The Betrayal Culmination

by ButtonPusherExtraordinaire

What if the Arctic fiasco resulted in consequences and permanent changes, unable to be washed away by lukewarm apologies? What if Sheldon was more of a character than caricature? What if Penny understood the sabotage's depths? What if Sheldon had someone on his side? What if Sheldon understood more than he let on? AU!

1. Chapter 1

The whole Arctic debacle was, frankly, an insult to watch; it was disgusting. It was written for comedic purposes (understandable, given its setting in a comedy show), but for such a serious thing (and for a show that claims to be "scientific"), it was brushed aside as meaningless, making it all a joke. Analyze it for a simple moment, and it becomes so much more complex than was depicted. It was all just a house of cards with no substance—because the work was not done after the debacle to explore it as such a thing, such a tragedy, needs to be explored. Research integrity is paramount in the world of academia, particularly with men of Sheldon's intellectual caliber. Not even to mention the paradigm-shifting nature of his quest, which made it one of, if not the most serious intellectual endeavor in his life up to that point—it was the most serious intellectual endeavor that any of Leonard, Howard, and Raj had been in, too. They all knew it—they could not have not known it. They had to know it. They would have never reached their academic/career positions, including obtaining doctorates (minus Howard), if they were incapable of making such logical connections and conclusions. Leonard, Howard, and Raj were certainly intelligent enough to know exactly what they were doing and what their actions meant, but they did not care. Their intellects knew the truth that their hearts ignored—things would never be the same. They could never be the same after sabotaging the experiment—it is maddeningly simplistic and stupid to think otherwise.

Frankly, the show should have never had such an episode/storyline because the show could never do a competent job in exploring something so complex and complicated, especially for characters that the show treated/represented as caricatures. The entire debacle is one of the most incompetent storylines I've ever encountered and has no place in a comedy show—the idea should have been scrapped the moment it was conceived because it did not make sense within the pre-existing framework of the show, not if you wanted to do something real and serious with it honestly, giving it the respect and dignity it needed. Leonard, Howard, and Raj sabotaged funded research, and it was not even to a rival scientist (though, they are all innate rivals, particularly Sheldon and Leonard, which the show explores minimally); it was to a friend. What does that mean? Automatically, it means they are failure scientists; it also means they are failure friends. It means they would be fired instantly if they were discovered. It makes you wonder if there is anything valuable about them. If they are willing to screw around during the most serious, important career-defining moments of their lives (because they would, without exception, be part of the team that discovered the "paradigm-shifting monopoles," which would open many doors for them, undoubtedly), what do they do when no one is watching? If they are willing to sabotage their friend (yes, Sheldon is hard to count as a friend, especially for them, but Sheldon views them as his friends—his only friends), what are they willing to do to anyone else?

Sheldon invited them to take part in his experiment and mission, something he did not have to do, not at all. In fact, it is entirely unproductive for him to have done such a thing. Really, it's more of an out-of-character thing for Sheldon to do. Why would he give Leonard, Howard, and Raj the possible glory of discovering something so monumental when their work has never been anywhere close to his level? What makes them worthy companions to bring along? What makes him think they could occupy the same intellectual awareness that he can? Why bring them at all? It is obvious that it was a decision made of fondness, a decision dictated by the heart rather than the mind. Sheldon obviously chose them because they were his friends, not because they were stalwarts of intellectual discovery and willing to "go the extra mile" to pursue the truth. Really, Sheldon inviting them is him doing them a favor rather than them doing him a favor. It is the opportunity for advancement for the others, the chance to elevate their names and legacies into rarified air—the same air that Sheldon has breathed his whole life as a wunderkind genius who everyone important in the scientific world must have been aware of because he was worth keeping an eye on as he accomplished his studies, progressing prodigiously.

But Leonard, Howard, and Raj throw it all away. They know what they are getting into by signing on. They know Sheldon; they know what he is like; they know how demanding he is; they know that the expedition could never be a "walk in the park" at all with him in charge; they know how cruel he can be; they know how obsessive he can be; and they know that he can be an uncompromising ass at the best of times. They know all of that and more—because they are familiar with Sheldon. They shouldn't be surprised—it is insulting to think that they were surprised. If they were actually surprised, they should rip their diplomas up, for they are unworthy of them, possessing a powerful, staggering unintelligence. Only an idiot would be surprised by Sheldon's behavior, but the show goes to such lengths to portray the others as intellectually competent while socially challenged. But when compared to Sheldon, the others are socially competent. However, the show contradicts itself by making Leonard, Howard, and Raj surprised by Sheldon's behavior. It's asinine and absurd; it reeks of shallow thinking.

Because the entire expedition is not social; it is intellectual, which they understand. If it was social, then yes, it would make sense that they could be surprised by Sheldon's behavior. But nothing about it is social; it is intellectual at its essence, which means that everyone, including Leonard, Howard, and Raj would be oriented to the Intellectual Landscape. Sheldon was always going to act as he did, and they all knew it. There can be no surprise. They knew exactly what they were getting themselves into and doing. They are not pure or innocent. No, their actions, at the depth, are much darker. Their actions are tainted with whispers of resentment, bitterness, and fear; they convey a malicious undertone. You cannot plan someone's murder, least of all a friend's, to the imaginative degree of "tying Sheldon's limbs to sled dogs and yelling 'mush'" without a large amount of pre-existing animosity. The truth is—Leonard, Howard, and Raj never liked Sheldon nor considered him a friend. The Arctic debacle reveals it. They simply put up with him, seeing him as inferior to them, almost like a pet or an exhibit at the circus for people to gawk at—because, at least, at the end of the day, they could be considered "normal," while Sheldon never, in their estimation, could be. In a way, Sheldon is like a protective blanket/shield for the others, for Sheldon's extreme/radical behavior and outlook is so extreme/radical that it makes Leonard, Howard, and Raj look a lot better, making them actually seem normal—or as normal as men like them can be.

But their betrayal at the Arctic is not normal; it is far more extreme/radical than Sheldon ever could be. And it's simply written off and never explored, which is a travesty—frankly, it is an intellectual injustice.

But what if there were consequences, not only for Leonard, Howard, and Raj, but for Sheldon, too? What about Penny? How would she see the others after such a betrayal? She doesn't understand the nuances of it, but she would understand the impact better, which would taint her interactions going forward. Could she look at Leonard, Howard, and Raj the same? If they were willing to do such a thing to Sheldon, who they had known for a long time, what would they do to Penny, who they had known for such a shorter time? Penny has to have some smarts. The fact alone that she is shown to keep up in conversation multiple times with Sheldon himself reveals that her intelligence is substantial while not overwhelming. It has to do with the topic, really. Around which nexus does her thoughts revolve? The nature of all the intellectual nexuses, the literal connections allowing comprehension and communication, are the same, but the form is different for whichever nexus it is. A physicist and mechanic are both very intelligent, but each uses his intelligence in different ways, applying it differently, according to whatever form he follows. One may be smarter than the other, but both are undoubtedly intelligent, allowing for intelligent and comprehensible communication—because they are both tapping into that identical nature they each recognize on some level. It is the same for Sheldon and Penny. Penny makes ridiculous decisions typical of the "dumb blonde," but she is certainly above average in intelligence. It's pretty obvious that she simply doesn't apply herself; she possesses a laziness that holds her back.

What if Sheldon fleeing to Texas for haven wasn't a half-assed (actually, "half-assed" is an insult, for that was fraction-assed) plot device? What if there had always been a reason Sheldon stayed away from home? The fact that he made such a 180-decision suggests that something equally horrific to him (or close to it) happened back in Texas. If something terrible happened in a place he loved and found comfort in, and he needs to get away, the only logical place to him (remember, this is Sheldon) would be to go to a place where something terrible also happened where he found love and comfort—it strikes a balance that Sheldon would, no doubt, adore. I think the excuse of him leaving just for school is too simplistic. That will be explored, too.

Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Big Bang Theory or any of the characters therein.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The beard threw her off.

When Leonard let her know that she was back from his trip, she was happy to see him, but there was also a tension that she didn't know what to do with. In the past, she would have rushed into his arms and kissed him, but something held her back. Maybe it was shock; maybe it was surprise; maybe it was panic.

She didn't know for sure.

But the one thing she knew is that her life was different because time had changed her. She got used to having all the guys gone, leaving her alone for months, making her life nowhere near as crazy and hectic. But she found that she definitely liked having crazy in her life; it made her feel more balanced and in control, strangely enough. It didn't make much sense to her, but she knew that it was true; she felt it in her gut. She liked who she was with all that—she liked who she was with the guys, even if they all got on her last nerve sometimes. She had certainly missed all of them while they were gone on their trip, but there were two she missed more than the others. One was a surprise while the other wasn't.

She thought that she had finally gotten Sheldon pegged, meaning that he couldn't surprise her anymore, but there he went and surprised her with how much she missed him. She missed the order and structure he gave her where things were in their places. Sure, it was nice not having to be on such a strict schedule, but it became clear to her within about two weeks of him being gone that she really, really missed it. But because he was gone, she made her own order and stumbled into her own rhythm, giving herself structure, letting her momentum carry her like she knew it needed to carry her. But it also surprised her in that she missed him, too, even if he annoyed her ears off sometimes.

But she liked Sheldon, and she liked having him in her life. If she didn't like him, she'd want nothing to do with him. When she first met him, there were days she wished for a different neighbor, but Sheldon had grown on her a lot, and she suspected that it was the same for him with her. They seemed to somehow balance each other out. It didn't make a lot of sense to her, except for that whole 'opposites attract' idea, which was stupid, and made no sense at all because she and Sheldon weren't like that. 'Opposites attract' was reserved only for couples or something.

But there were those few times she had wondered, looking at him differently. The package his beautiful, insane mind was wrapped in was a nice package—until he opened his mouth, showing how insane and picky he could be.

Sheldon had always caught her eye, even from the first time she saw him that first day, and she didn't know if that was because Sheldon was so extreme, which meant eye-catching, whether it was his height, his electric eyes, his bizarre fashion sense, or his beautiful mind. But when compared to Sheldon, Leonard was certainly easier and more 'normal,' though 'normal' wasn't much of an accurate gauge. She liked 'normal' because she understood normal. Sure, it made her feel awkward with Leonard's obvious try-hard tendencies, but Leonard was a really nice guy, and she wanted a nice guy who just cared about her rather than only wanting her body to give him another notch on the bedpost.

She was ready for a change—she was finally ready.

But now that Leonard was back, something kept her from doing what she normally would do; something held her back. She didn't know what it was. Maybe they missed the boat; maybe timing wasn't on their side; maybe they needed to wait a few days to try or something; maybe they needed to let the dust settle for a bit, trying to get used to things again before hopping right into something.

That seemed the smartest thing to do, and she wanted smart—she was tired of making dumb decisions. But by looking at Leonard, she realized that there was something off about him, and though she thought it was the beard at first, she realized quickly that it was different; it had nothing to do with the beard.

It was his eyes. She didn't know what it was exactly, but there was a difference. Maybe it was the light inside.

"Were you able to sleep?" she asked, concerned, taking in his whole appearance for what must have been the tenth time.

Leonard flinched, confirming her fears. "Not as well as I wanted," he responded, face twisting slightly. "It was really cold- "

"Which explains the beard," Penny commented, amused. "You're going to shave it, aren't you?"

"After I shower. I haven't had a shower in a long time."

Yep, she made the right decision in choosing not to kiss him. "You're not going to stink up my apartment, are you?" she teased.

Leonard shook his head rapidly, panicked. "No, not at all."

Penny grinned. "Probably a good thing. Sheldon would go nuts if you did. He'd probably break in and clean my whole place. On second thought—go ahead and stink this place up." When Leonard looked away at the mention of Sheldon, her eyes narrowed before she sighed in realization. "He was giving you hell while you were there, huh?"

"Something like that," Leonard muttered before shaking his head.

She could imagine it—Sheldon being more overbearing and demanding usual while they were all away from the comforts of home and familiarity. "Well, you don't have to worry about that now," she said. "You're back. Maybe you could take a vacation for a few days."

Leonard looked painfully hopeful. "Could you join me?"

Penny hesitated before waving a hand. "I don't know. I don't want to go too fast, you know."

"Fast is fine," Leonard protested. "I've been stuck in the Arctic tundra forever, where everything was slow. I need something fast."

She didn't like what his words suggested but knew that he wasn't aware of it; he could be clueless sometimes. "If you go from one extreme to the other too quick, you're in for a world of pain. Sorry, Romeo—we're going slow."

"Who told you that?" he asked, looking intrigued, despite himself.

Penny shrugged, shocked he didn't understand the reference. Even Sheldon would have understood the reference. "Shakespeare."

"No, the going from one extreme to the other."

"Sheldon said something like that once, but he sounded a lot smarter about it. And he's right—I've had enough experience with it when drinking. You want to take your time getting buzzed; you don't want to get there in one go. It's much more enjoyable that way."

Leonard swallowed before stepping closer, trying to puff out his chest. "Sounds like sex. But I'll take my time with that—I promise."

She hesitated, put off by his forwardness before smiling tightly. "That's not a good line."

"But I came up with it myself."

Penny exhaled slowly, wondering if the Arctic's chill had numbed Leonard's sense. "Well, it sounds like one of Howard's lines. I would have thought you got it from him."

Desperation flashed in Leonard's eyes, something more familiar to her than whatever currently rested in those depths. "No, that's not- "

"Leonard!" a familiar voice—could it be considered 'familiar' with its seeming guttural quality?—shouted from outside her apartment, rising like a tide.

Penny glanced around in shock. "Was that Sheldon?"

But when she looked at Leonard to get his thoughts, there was no surprise on his face—only fear and dread. "Yes," he whispered, voice weak—a powerful contradiction against Sheldon's impressive volume—as he seemed to shrink before her, shoulders curling in slightly.

Suddenly, her door rattled rhythmically with powerful strikes. "Leonard! Leonard! Leonard!"

Penny had a terrible feeling in her gut and went to open the door before Leonard stumbled forward to stop her, but by the pale look on his face, his terror made him act in defense—for whatever reason. "No, don't let him in," he hissed.

Her door groaned with Sheldon's endless assault, and she glared at the door, picturing Sheldon outside of it. "What the hell is this? Sheldon, stop!"

"Leonard!" Sheldon yelled from outside, fists pounding with an intensity that surprised her—and worried her. Would he break down the door? She never considered Sheldon violent or physically capable, but the man outside her door pounded against it with shocking violence. "Open the door! I know you hear me! You told Penny not to let me in!"

Something in Sheldon's voice was different; it was primal and seething. For the first time, she heard a darkness in it, something raw and real, something his massive intellect couldn't hide, and something his formal speech couldn't suppress.

It wasn't a child's anger or frustration, simple and silly; it was a man's rage, broad and deep.

When a particular knock—or was it a punch?—made the door whine in warning, she had enough. "That's it. I'm opening the door- " She was yanked back by Leonard's hands, and he tried to corral her, pulling her away.

"No," Leonard squeaked. "Let him cool off. He's fine; he's being Sheldon."

"I've never seen him this upset!" she exclaimed, ripping his arms off her, wondering in what world Sheldon roaring and punching her door was normal Sheldon behavior. "What the hell is going on?"

Leonard looked panicked, like he had eaten dairy, face pinched. "Nothing!"

Her eyes narrowed, knowing something was up. The question was—what? For something to upset Sheldon so much meant it must be awful. And Leonard seemed to know exactly what had pissed off Sheldon. "This doesn't sound like nothing, Leonard!"

"Penny, I swear, it's all going to roll over- "

"I've never heard him this upset! Are you sure he's alright?"

"He's fine!"

Penny huffed and shook her head, finished with his pathetic evasions, as she turned around, approaching the door. "I'm going to talk to him- "

Leonard gripped her arm and tried to pull her back. "No! Just let him be- "

A whistle pierced the air before a crack echoed with finality.

Penny's lips parted in shock at the arrowhead sticking through her door.

Leonard swallowed thickly behind her. "He grabbed his crossbow."

She whirled on him, seeing the terrible pallor on his face; he looked scared out of his mind as he backed away, tripping over her coffee table. "He has a crossbow?"

Another cracking sound echoed, and she knew another arrow stuck through her door. Then another and another followed in a terrible rhythm. Something seized her spine and traveled to her heart—it wouldn't let go. She stared at Leonard, whose face depicted what she had known all along—he knew the source of Sheldon's unthinkable anger.

She swallowed, horrified. "What did you do?" she breathed.

Before Leonard could respond—to tell a lie, she could tell—a pale arm wrapped in erratic, colored fabric burst through her door frame, stretching through the holes made by the crossbow bolts until his tight, bleeding fingers pulled back the latch and opened the door, which swung open with a harsh jerk.

The sight before her made her gasp and back up. Sheldon had always been mentally unforgettable and physically forgettable, but what she saw was finally physically unforgettable. He looked like a wild man, eyes simultaneously bulging and narrowing, jaw jerking with eruption as the air seemed to ripple with the wrath pouring off him. His vivid blue eyes were electric with ire, and specks of fire danced in his irises, glowing with a powerful outrage and fury, alight with intensity and a blazing truth, and ferocious with the demand for retribution and answers. There was nothing awkward about him—there was no hesitation or timid posture; there was no brittleness or meekness; there was no slouching or wavering; there was no trouble with meeting gazes or backing down from a fight; there was no spinelessness or aversion; there was no fear or nervousness; there was no doubt or insecurity; there was no restraint or control; there was no reluctance or repression; and there was no modesty or second-guessing. He stood tall, taller than she had ever seen, shoulders back, jaw clenched with strength, fingers curled into tight fights—and blood dripped to her floor from where it looked like he had cut his knuckles banging on her door. His hair was a mess, looking like fingers had been tugging at the dark strands. His goatee—she never imagined him with a goatee before, and it was more surprising than Leonard's beard!—seemed even darker, more pronounced, making the rest of his face look gaunt but enhanced—more precise and intimidating. His lips were in a tight, unbending line, and his beautiful blue eyes were blazing, piercing, and as cold as the Arctic he had just come back from. There was an air of danger around him, something she thought impossible.

Sheldon had snapped.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Well, in actuality, what your equipment detected wasn't, so much, evidence of paradigm-shifting monopoles as it was static from the electric can opener we were turning on and off."

The words floated in the air, piercing all parts of his body with insidious needles, digging deeper and deeper, burning, until it felt like he could not breathe.

The connection and its meaning were instant. His experiment was sabotaged; his grand triumph into the realm of transcendental discovery was sabotaged; his pursuit for the truth was sabotaged; his quest to make sense of the world and universe, opening more pathways for enlightenment, was sabotaged; his vow to decipher the mysteries eluding him was sabotaged; his oath to unearth the enticing wonders invisible to his eyes was sabotaged.

Had anything else been sabotaged? Was this a solitary occurrence, or was it a pattern of deceit and treachery spanning years?

He thought that he was near the completion of his journey, but he had never started his journey, for he could trust nothing he had ever done since meeting Leonard, Wolowitz, and Koothrapali.

Was Leonard part of it?

Sheldon stared at Wolowitz and Koothrapali, two weak men enslaved to piteous impulses that swayed them from pursuing honorable discourses. "It was not your idea."

They both bowed their heads in confirmation of what he knew, deep down. The betrayal burned, coming out of his breaths in smoke, making his eyes mist. Fury filled him in a rush, making him gasp as his heart accelerated to an unhealthy rhythm, stirring primitive instincts inside him. He remembered previous times where such wrath molested his mind, but there was something different—there was something deeper. Unlike the other times, he did not burn; he felt cold, instead, which sapped his intelligence of its potency until only the wrath remained.

Intellectual sabotage was a cardinal sin in academia. Any honorable scientist who was serious about his work would never engage in such foul, demeaning debauchery, in which madness reigned over order and structure. Leonard, Wolowitz, and Koothrapali knew the impact of their gross sabotage, but they had not cared; they had only wanted to interfere with his potential breakthrough—a breakthrough he thought he completed before it all came crumbling down with the hisses of deceit and treachery. Past and present began to converge in an unholy, unnatural collision, and he tried desperately to ward off the chaos as he always did, but it was different. The barriers were fractured, broken by the stress of the revelation of treachery, and that which he never wanted to remember fluttered into his consciousness, materializing with vivid colors and experience—the powerful memories of his life.

Daddy's words pierced his mind, catapulting him back to when he was a child in those last years of Daddy's life, when he started to realize that Daddy was not a simpleton.

"You gotta fight for you, Sheldon," Daddy said, peering down at him with a light in his eyes. "Your mama and I ain't gonna be around forever. Gig and Missie love you, but they don't understand you. Truth is—your mama and I don't understand you, either. I try to understand you, and I think I've gotten better at it, but there's still a lot missin'. The only one who understands you is you, and you gotta fight for that. There's gonna be people who try to screw with your understandin'. They'll try to tell you what to think and what to say; they'll try to manage your life; they'll make you doubt yourself; they'll ruin everythin' you're doin'; and they'll tell you that they know what they're doin', but the only one who knows what he's doin' is you. You know yourself, Sheldon. That's what the Greeks taught, right? Plato, Aristotle—all those boys. 'Know yourself.' You gotta know yourself, Sheldon, and you gotta fight to know yourself, and you gotta fight everyone who tries to make you not know yourself. Nobody in your life's ever gonna be able to fight for you like you can. I know you want others to do it, but only you can do it—that's the damned truth. If someone fights you, you make him choke on some dirt. Your mama says to turn the other cheek and all that, but that's hogwash. You fight for you, Sheldon, and you give as good as you get. If someone pokes you in the eye, you poke him back. If he takes your knees, you take his knees—none of that pacifism nonsense where you just lie there and take it. I'm much more Old Testament than New Testament. 'An eye for an eye.' I'm telling you—one day, there's gonna be someone who spits on your mind and tries to scrub it clean of everythin' you are to do what he wants it to do, and you gotta fight back. You can't just let him do what he wants because what he wants is bad for you. Your mind is your mind and no one else's, and that means all the works your mind makes are yours, too, and you gotta fight for those because there will be someone who tries to steal it or ruin it. Your mama doesn't understand this, but there's always gonna be scumbags who try to take advantage of you and make you dance to their tunes, trying to make you a puppet. But you fight and dance to your own tune—do you got that? You're your own man—no one else's. No man but you ever tells you what to do. You gotta fight, Sheldon. No one else will do it for you."

His friends—the only friends he ever had in his life—betrayed him during the most groundbreaking moment of his career, a possible fulcrum for advancement and opportunity. It was his ingress to the Nobel. But it was not only his ingress to renown—it was the beginning of greatness for Leonard, Wolowitz, and Koothrapali, whose contributions to his success would facilitate progress and development for their unimpressive careers. It was the lure of advancement that convinced them all to join him on his expedition, but when it mattered, they proved they did not have the necessary gumption for intellectual discovery. Instead of helping him achieve greatness, they sabotaged him, casting his career into torpor forever. They did it to spite him, even if it meant ruining their own chances for advancement or opportunity. Their resentment and cruelty were so potent that, by sabotaging him, they were willing to sabotage themselves, dragging him down into their mediocre cesspit.

His friends did not care about him—it was the only explanation—but there was one friend who surpassed the others in cunning and deception.

"Leonard!" Sheldon jumped up from his spot, ignoring Wolowitz and Koothrapali's joint squeaks of questions, and marched to the door; he flung it open and strode to Penny's door and cast off restraint as Daddy's words filled his mind. He had to fight back. He pounded on the door with his clenched fists, banging harder than he ever dared; he did it again and again, not stopping. "Leonard! Leonard! Leonard!"

From inside, he heard Leonard's recognizable nasal voice hiss: "No, don't let him in."

Sheldon continued his assault, arms swinging faster and harder, heart pumping with adrenaline, body surging in strength. He was a Cooper, after all. "What the hell is this?" Penny asked, shocked, from inside, the first time he had heard her voice in months—except for in his memories. "Sheldon, stop!"

"Leonard!" Sheldon demanded, voice rising like the wrath inside him—it was balanced perfectly! He began punching the door with his knuckles, arms arching back at the elbows before surging forward like pistons, one after the other, going so fast to his own eyes he felt like the Flash. If only he had Superman's strength. But he was not Superman except in intellect, for the flesh across his knuckles began to crack and bleed with the force he exerted. "Open the door! I know you hear me! You told Penny not to let me in!"

There was no response, which did not surprise him, given Leonard's cowardly nature, but the stiff silence infuriated him as he heard only his memories and the incessant chant of 'sabotage' and 'failure,' shrieking its judgments and condemnation in a chorus of the world's greatest minds from Copernicus to Galileo to Newton to Einstein.

It was madness!

Arriving at a swift decision—the only logical decision as he lacked Superman's strength—Sheldon pivoted from Penny's door, meeting the bulging gazes of Wolowitz and Koothrapali in his apartment's ingress. He darted forward, running past them as they dove out of the way, splitting through their astonished forms, lungs quivering, and heart throbbing.

Was it breaking?

He ran past the couch, ignored the soothing whispers of his spot, and into the hallway; he dashed into his room for the first time in months but knew exactly what he sought. He found it swiftly along with its necessary attachments. He walked out of his room with his crossbow, stalked into the living room, ignored Koothrapali fainting in fear at the sight of his crossbow while Wolowitz collapsed to the ground, turned around, and presented his posterior as a sign of submission.

Sheldon felt the irrational impulse to unload a crossbow bolt into Wolowitz's offered posterior, but he refrained. He knew Daddy might approve of it, but he was still a civilized man—mostly. He exited his apartment's ingress and loaded the crossbow bolt, knowing that Leonard and Penny were not pressed against the door. If either was watching through the peephole, they would know to retreat.

He raised the crossbow, nestled it against his shoulder like all the times he had practiced, and heard Daddy's instructions echo in his head—and felt the shadow of a hand clasp his shoulder in guidance. He released the bolt, which whistled through the air in a shriek before it embedded into Penny's door. He continued his assault, heart racing with action; there was part of him that felt alive for the first time in years. With his compromised memories, he suspected he knew why.

When Penny's door was suitably compromised of its external authority, he laid his crossbow against the elevator exhibit, and stalked forward; he yanked out the crossbow bolts and surprised himself by punching through the compromised wood, but it was a success, for Daddy had taught him how to punch when he was a boy. His memory notified him precisely where Penny's latch was located, which he found instantly; his fingers grasped it, unclasped it, and pulled back. He jerked the door open, which whined in protest, but his attention moved into the apartment as he stepped inside, an action he had committed exactly three-hundred eighty-nine times since Penny had moved in.

But something was different—he was different.

Penny's immediate visual appeal was powerful, bathed in red garbs, and he suddenly realized why a beautiful woman was always responsible for soothing a warrior's fury in literature. But he shook himself, remembering Daddy's warnings about women—"you gotta be careful to find the right one, Sheldon. If you screw up, it'll be the worst decision you ever make. A good woman can make you, but a bitch-woman can break you."—and peered at Leonard, who cowered behind the coffee table, attempting to obviously use it as a pitiful shield.

"I know what you did, Leonard," Sheldon condemned, voice stronger than he thought it would be; it sounded solid and rigid, uncompromising. He hoped it sounded like Daddy's used to when yelling at his teachers and principals who were too unintelligent to understand anything. "I am a reasonable man. I am willing to hear your explanation. You have ten seconds."

Leonard gaped for several moments, breaths coming in an unsynchronized rush as he glanced at Penny. "No, Sheldon—it's just a misunderstanding- "

"Do not insult my intelligence!" he shouted, causing Leonard to flinch while Penny stared at him, eyes wide. He couldn't stop his Texan twang from tying his words. "It is beneath us both, though far more beneath me since your intellect is as barren as the moon!"

Penny held up her hands, face concerned. "Sweetie, you need to calm down- "

Sheldon whirled on her. "Stay out of this!" he yelled, chest heaving. "This has nothing to do with you!" He glared back at Leonard. "I always knew you lacked integrity in meaningful quantities, you snipped toad! Yet, I never conceived the audacious cruelty you so clearly possess in abundant proportions! Your intelligence is as small as your stature! Your dishonor is in the mediocre work you pursue, and you sought to drag me into your mire! You are a degenerate!"

Leonard faltered. "It was a prank- "

"It was sabotage!" Sheldon roared, face manic, eyes bulging, voice breaking with the excessive volume; he sounded hoarse and worn—the opposite of anything he had ever sounded. ""I am not interested in your small-minded weakness! You were hysterical and arranged to decapitate me! You did decapitate me, you weak, pathetic eunuch! My career is over! My Nobel—gone! My vengeance begins now! I would decapitate you myself, but my mother endowed in me mercy. Unfortunately, despite Henry VIII's habitual beheadings, decapitation is not considered virtuous Christian conduct, and my mother is a model Christian woman. I am her son, and I detest the thought of making you a martyr."

Daddy would want him to fight back, but he failed—he always failed. But while the physical realm was not his realm like Daddy's, he could wage war—could fight—in the intellectual realm, as he always did.

Leonard sagged in relief. "You won't tell anyone?"

Sheldon's face spasmed with resentment and pain. "You already won! You played your hand perfectly. For the only time in your life, you were more intelligent than me, which is my fault. But I have learned, Leonard; I absorb this treachery and am prepared. Never again will anyone cripple my aims; never again will anyone subvert my findings; never again will anyone rob from me my dreams; never again will anyone sabotage me; and never again will I trust you. You defecated all over our friendship- "

"You did that yourself!" Leonard snapped, attempting a weak glare. "You were acting like a tyrant! We had to do something! You were driving us insane!"

He felt merciless. "A true scientist would have withstood the pressure. You knew what was at stake; you knew we needed authentic results; you knew the pressures; you knew what success meant; and you knew what failure meant. But you did not care, for you are an unworthy scientist and a smaller man than your miniscule stature conveys! It is a wonder you can stand considering you lack a backbone! My mind is mankind's most valuable asset, Leonard—anyone intelligent recognizes it. But you? No, what intelligence you hold is an oversight. I will confer with your mother to discuss your I.Q. results, for they were wrong- "

Leonard's eyes widened before a flush crossed his face. "Leave my mother out of this, Sheldon!"

"Why?" he hissed. "For you proved her assessment of you true with your intolerable betrayal? Do you not want her to hear of your- "

"That's enough!"

"It has only begun! Penny possesses more intelligence than you, for she is rational enough to recognize that instead of acting hysterical as you have and arrange to decapitate me- "

"Shut up, Sheldon!" Leonard cried out. "I don't care to hear about Henry VIII again! Even that tyrant had better luck with women than I do!"

"What the hell is going on?" Penny demanded again, stepping forward, eyeing Sheldon with concern and confusion. "What happened? Decapitate? What the hell does Henry VIII have to do with anything? And what's this talk of sabotage?"

Sheldon exhaled roughly and stared back at her, finding the powerful red color a stimulant to his mind, and Daddy's advice about a good woman echoed in his ears before he reminded himself of his necessary balance. "I would tell you to ask Leonard, but you cannot trust him. All he knows is distrust and mediocrity- "

Leonard threw his arms in the air, disgusted. "Enough, Sheldon! Just let it go! It was a prank! At least we didn't kill you! Because we were giving it serious thought! If we had killed you, made it look like an accident, then I would be spared your whining right now!"

"You did not kill me but killed part of me, and I will never get that part back! Damn you to the Hell Mama believes in!"

"You're being dramatic- "

"I think a level of drama is necessary to convey the monumental impact of your betrayal! I was a worthy scientist who had everything before him before treachery from those closest to him struck him down! It is a great Shakespearean tragedy!" he cried out and turned to Penny, gesturing with his head, insistent. "Not even MacBeth or Hamlet compare! Go ahead—tell him. Explain it to his simple mind. You love Shakespeare. Explain to him what a tragedy this is."

Penny closed her eyes for several seconds before inhaling slowly; her eyes snapped open, and he stared at her. "First of all, no one compares to Shakespeare. And second—you need to slow down. I'm trying to piece this together- "

His chest rumbled with a foreign sound, one he dimly recognized as the beginning of a growl, before he whirled back on Leonard. "Why?" he demanded, glaring at Leonard, and hating how his voice cracked and waned slightly. "We were friends. I thought we were friends. All evidence pointed to it."

"What did you do, Leonard?" Penny asked quietly, but there was a firm warning in her voice; a fire blazed in her memorable eyes. "Man up—what did you do?"

Leonard shuddered, face falling in despair at Penny's ire. It occurred to Sheldon with painful precision that Leonard cared more about Penny—about the possibility of coitus—than him. It was a truth he should have recognized long ago. He endeavored to find the truth about the Universe, about Life itself, but Leonard did not care about any of it, not genuinely. Leonard cared about securing coitus foremost; anything else was secondary, including friendship and discovery.

"It was a prank," Leonard said slowly, face stretching in explanation, but Sheldon barely heard him over the roaring in his ears. "We didn't sabotage him- "

His heart seemed to burst inside his chest. "What do you call tricking me?" Sheldon shouted, fists trembling at his sides; he kept them there, for he knew if he moved them, it would be toward Leonard's pale face. "What do you call defacing my results on the biggest experiment of my career? What do you call willful interference of the readings by manipulating an electric can opener? It is no accident! It was intentional, for you all knew what you were doing and how the electric can opener would confuse the readings—and deceive me, cheating me of my career! I already sent an email proclaiming my success to all the emails I have stored in my network, including all the emails of other universities and research facilities! Everyone in my realm of peerage! I am ruined! My reputation is poisoned forever! The word is sabotage, Leonard! I see through your weak lies, but do not beguile, Penny! Why did you do it?"

"We wanted to come home!" Leonard exclaimed, face flushed; his eyes glinting with exhaustion but resignation. "We were done. But you wouldn't accept that. We did it so we could come home! And then once I was home, I could get with Penny!"

Penny frowned. "'Get with Penny'?"

Leonard's eyes widened before he sputtered, face aflame with panic. "No, that came out wrong- "

Sheldon almost staggered, mind spazzing in horrified realization. "The possibility—the simple possibility, not promise—of coitus enabled your treachery? Coitus is more important to you than science; it is more important to you than the truth."

"The truth is you were a nightmare!" Leonard cried out. "We didn't care about your stupid experiment- "

"Then why did you accept my invitation?" Sheldon roared, eyes narrowing, breathing chaotic. "You cannot have it both ways! It is a paradox! You know how I loathe paradoxes! And there is no greater paradox than your continued standing before me! You are without shame, Leonard! You should prostrate yourself- "

Leonard rubbed a hand on his face and collapsed on Penny's couch. "Sheldon, it happened. There's no undoing it. But it was your own fault you sent that email. You shouldn't have been so hasty- "

"You should not have been so hasty in betraying your friend!" he condemned, trying to keep control, but he felt himself falling apart; he felt his inward balance deteriorating as his memories—memories he swore to never remember!—swarmed him. It was too much! "I will never forget this day," Sheldon breathed, eyes starting to mist with the foreign, undesirable presence of tears—no! He had not cried since that damned day, and he would not start now! But the images flashed and materialized before him, and the sun glimmered off that damned lake as he felt the shadow of the fishing pole in his hand, and Daddy beckoned him forward with a proud smile and clap to his shoulder. He had to stop it! "I terminate all contact and connection between us forever. Your actions were not that of a friend; your actions were that of an enemy—and my enemy you will be, for that is what you are. You achieved your doctorate, but never think that makes you my equal. You lost the game the moment you started to play. You think you won this day, but this is the day you lose forever."

Sheldon exited Penny's apartment in a daze, walked past the gaping Wolowitz and Koothrapali, and strode down the stairs.

He felt empty.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Penny watched Sheldon leave, stunned, mind screaming as she tried to make sense of everything that was said, but there was only one thing that made sense. She whirled on Leonard. "You sabotaged the experiment?"

Leonard groaned. "No, it wasn't like that- "

She crossed her arms, anger growing inside her; there was a deep outrage that surprised her. "Tell me why I don't believe you. He's right! That's not what a friend does—it's an enemy's move!"

"Of course, you're taking his side," he muttered, face twisting in a mixture of resentment and dismay. "Everyone always takes his side, and you're just like everyone else."

Penny flinched before glaring. "If you think friendship entails whatever the hell this is about a can opener and decapitation, I don't see how we're friends."

Leonard's eyes widened, and he reached toward her, but she pulled away. "No, Penny- "

She shook her head and looked back to where Sheldon had left. "I'm going after him. If you know what's good for you, you won't follow."

When he tried to pull her back, she reacted on instinct and punched him in the face. He collapsed instantly with a shocked groan and cough, holding his face. She left him there, knowing it wasn't a wise decision, but knowing that Sheldon was more important—making sure that he was okay. The look on his face haunted her. She grabbed his crossbow from where it laid against the broken elevator, grabbed the extra bolts for it, and tossed it into her apartment. If it landed on Leonard, she didn't care. But before she ran down the stairs, she jumped at Howard and Raj, who both yelped and scrambled into Sheldon and Leonard's apartment.

Satisfied but disgusted, she dashed out the building as fast as she could, hoping to catch a sign of Sheldon, see his tall form, but he had clearly already left. She shoved open the doors and craned her head, trying to catch sight of him. He was far in the distance, farther than she thought he could be, but his longer strides were clearly the explanation.

"Sheldon!" she called out, running to catch up.

Penny didn't know if he heard her and ignored her or if genuinely didn't hear her because he kept walking, not even hesitating once in his stride; he looked robotic, marching forward, not even seeming to realize where he was going.

She realized immediately that he clearly didn't realize where he was going, for he was heading towards traffic.

She gasped, and her legs pumped faster. "Sheldon!" she screamed in warning.

But Sheldon didn't hear her, clearly lost in his own massive mind, dazed. Her terror swept through her heart, energizing her body; she sprinted forward, colliding with several people, but she kept going and going! When she reached Sheldon, she pulled him away from oncoming traffic, where he would have been flattened instantly by a speeding car, at the last second.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Penny cried out, staring up at him as she heaved to catch her breath. But the look on his face stole whatever breath she had left. He looked lifeless, beautiful eyes dead, and brilliant mind broken. "Oh, Sheldon," she breathed, grabbing his hands; she felt even more freaked out when he didn't jump away and squawk about germs or something. "I'm so sorry."

He was silent, just staring at her, face blank, and she was unsure she had ever seen someone look so lost and out of it.

She swallowed and tried to smile but knew it was more of a grimace, and to reassure herself, she squeezed his hands and tried to pull him closer to her. He robotically stepped forward, hands trapped inside hers; he didn't squeeze back or seem to register what she was doing.

She was trying hard not to freak out.

"Where do you wanna go, Sheldon?" she asked, craning her neck to see possible destinations. "Back to the apartment?"

He flinched so hard that it made her flinch.

"Okay, no apartment," she soothed, relieved that at least he was aware enough to hear her—and know that he didn't want to return to the apartment. "Are you hungry?"

Silence.

"What about the comic book store?"

Silence.

"The library?"

Silence.

"CalTech?"

Silence.

"Train store?"

Silence.

"Bus ride?"

Silence.

Penny tried to control her breathing because she knew freaking out wouldn't do either of them any good—because then the destination would be the hospital, probably. "Okay. We're going to a diner. I know one close by. I think it passes all your criteria."

Silence.

She cursed under her breath, gripped his hand, heart beginning to race with a painful thrum when he didn't shriek and pull away, and squeezed tightly to keep him attached to her. She led him down the familiar path, wishing he would open his mouth and demand to know by what criteria she had judged the diner according to, questioning her evaluation, and raising hell because of it. But he remained silent, almost like a ghost, but she felt his hand inside hers.

But he didn't squeeze back; his hand was limp, which was why she squeezed so hard to keep hold of him. She guided him to the diner, trying to stay calm, but she could tell it was a losing effort by her elevated breathing—and the shaking of her hand, which caused Sheldon's hand, within hers, to tremble, too.

How could so much have gone wrong? Because she knew that nothing would ever be the same for their group, once a group of friends but now a group of betrayers. Where would that leave her? Where would that leave Sheldon? Automatically, she knew sides would be taken, and she knew that Leonard, Howard, and Raj had each other's backs. But who had Sheldon's back?

Penny decided to have his back, knowing he needed her a lot more than the others. Frankly, she was disgusted by the others and didn't like the thought of being on their side, not after such an obvious betrayal. If Leonard, Howard, and Raj were capable of betraying Sheldon, sabotaging him, to such a degree, and they were friends with him for years, what would Leonard, Howard, and Raj do to her, who they had known for a much shorter time?

And there was the unfortunate habit of them, specifically Howard but there were a few times she had caught Leonard, viewing her as nothing more than a hot blonde. She wasn't sure if they actually viewed her as a friend or a hot girl that they were waiting for the chance to sleep with. She remembered when Missy showed up when they dropped her for the next hot girl to appear in their lives—and it had happened other times, like with Alicia right before they went to the Arctic, revealing a sobering pattern.

It didn't fill her with confidence.

When she and Sheldon reached the diner, she hoped for an explosion about the uneven color pattern decorating the door, but Sheldon said nothing; she sighed and pulled him inside and waived down the hostess.

"I've come here a few times, but it's been a while," Penny commented after they were shown to their seats—a corner booth that, thankfully, provided privacy. "Good burgers, though. You could have a burger if you want."

Silence.

Desperation and fear swirled together inside her. "Sheldon, you're scaring me. Please say something."

Sheldon didn't react until his eyes latched onto her; the depths were dim and dark rather than bright and memorable. "Something."

Penny grinned in relief and laughed slightly, patting his hand. "There you go. I know you're in there somewhere."

He said nothing, but she wasn't as freaked out that he would die on her or something; he was at least aware—partly.

"I don't know about you, but I need a drink," she muttered, distracting herself by looking at the menu. "Maybe a wine. Is it too early for wine? Maybe Mr. Jack Daniels might take the edge off- "

"Please stop," he whispered, voice hoarse, eyes murky. "I hated when Daddy drank."

Penny hesitated and pushed away the menu, stunned; she had never heard Sheldon speak of his dad. She had heard Mrs. Cooper speak about her husband briefly, but it was never anything of substance. There was only something about trying to hunt an animal while naked or something—something dumb. But that didn't tell her anything. All she really knew about Mr. Cooper was that he was dead and had died years ago. "Really?" she asked, watching him. "Was he an alcoholic?"

Sheldon's face flickered. "He said otherwise."

"Like, a bad alcoholic?"

"His drinking killed him," Sheldon notified, looking even more miserable; he looked panicked and anguished.

Penny had always known that Sheldon was complicated, but she never knew just how complicated; she was beginning to realize that Lake Sheldon was very, very deep and swimming with lots of fishes, ranging from idiosyncrasies to experiences to genius to interesting facts. "I'm sorry."

"You did not kill him- "

"I know," she said, smiling sadly. "It's just—my mom's brother, my Uncle Tommy, who my brother was named after, loved drinking. I remember his funeral. No one thought it was in good taste to drink at the lunch afterwards. I mean, I was young, so I couldn't drink, but I remember what it was like and how Mom and Dad and everyone else reacted to it. I'm sorry about your dad. What was his name?"

Sheldon seemed to wither before her eyes, sinking into the seat; he looked immersed into the fabric, incapable of ever leaving. "George."

"George Cooper," Penny tested, trying to think of something to say that would erase that agony on Sheldon's face; he seemed elsewhere, head moving slightly, like he was watching something, like a projection of his own mind through his eyes. "I'm sorry he died like he did. How old were you?"

He flinched, face pale. "Three weeks past fourteen."

"Three weeks after turning fourteen," she echoed, thinking about it, grateful that both her parents were still alive, even if she had problems with them both. But she still loved them a lot. And by the painful-to-look-at look on Sheldon's face, he had loved his dad a lot, too. It was weird to think about Sheldon loving anything or anyone in a real way, and it took her a long time to see it, but Sheldon clearly loved deeply. "I'm sorry, Sheldon."

"You did not kill him- "

Of course, their waitress chose at that time to appear and ask for their order. Penny turned to her quickly, recognized the stress on her face, and smiled. "Two waters. I'll take two pancakes with bacon, and he'll take a barbecue bacon cheeseburger—barbecue sauce, bacon, and cheese on the side. That will be all."

The waitress nodded and left quickly, allowing her to look back at Sheldon, who watched her, haunted.

"I know that I didn't kill your dad, sweetie," Penny repeated. "But I'm still sorry. I wish things were different."

Sheldon seemed to gasp, face spasming with a shocking amount of visible, though not decipherable, emotion. "As do I," he murmured, grieved. "He failed to see the inevitable. I see now that I inherited his failure."

Her eyes widened, realizing what he alluded to. "No, this 'sabotage' was never inevitable- "

"It was," Sheldon interrupted with a grim certainty that chilled her spirit. "My calculations were wrong; what I thought was evidence was, in reality, negligence. I am ruined forever. All I know is failure."

Their waitress returned with their waters, and Penny stared at her glass sadly. She really wanted a wine, even if it was early in the afternoon—she deserved it! But she didn't want to upset Sheldon, not after he had opened up about his dad. "That's not true. You can come back from this- "

"How?"

"By fighting to come back."

Sheldon's eyes sharpened abruptly, making her tense. "Daddy always said that; he always told me to fight."

"He was right," Penny agreed. "I don't mean fight Leonard, Howard, or Raj—I mean fight for you. If you set that beautiful mind of yours on something, you're going to get it; you're going to find success. You've had way more success in your life than anyone I've ever met! You went to college when you were twelve, and you got those PhDs- "

He sagged in the chair. "Irrelevant. None of it matters."

Penny's eyes bulged in a mixture of terror and horror, for she realized that Sheldon was even closer to shattering than she thought. "Of course, it matters- "

"It all feels insignificant now," Sheldon divulged, voice flat and quiet, electric eyes distant. "None of it helps me now. If it mattered, it would help me in my direst moments—it does nothing of the sort."

She swallowed, realizing he was alluding to something beyond Leonard, Howard, and Raj's sabotage. "Sweetie, what are you talking about? What do you mean?"

"I feel… empty," he whispered, sounding confused but lonely; his face was distressed. "I have the irrational but persistent knowing that even if I filled my emptiness with the monumental totality of the Universe, it would not be enough. There would still be emptiness; I would still feel empty."

"Have you always felt empty?" she asked, unsure what else to ask; she was trying to keep up with the flood of everything that was happening.

Sheldon's eyes darted away from her in confirmation. "I have searched all my life to fill it. I suspect I have looked in the wrong places—or focused too extremely on one side. I failed to heed the fundamental Law of Balance on which the Universe is predicated. My work is meaningless. What does it do? How does it accomplish anything? Newton is beyond me forever; I will never compare to him, the greatest mind Man has ever spawned. Newton invented calculus from nothingness to track the stars and celestial bodies themselves, for all prior mathematics were feeble to his grand intellect. He is significantly more intelligent, influential, and revolutionary than I am. He is the father of modern-day physics, and his accolades set the standard for all scientists after him; he is the exemplar to which we all measure ourselves, and we will ever more for generations. I fall short of his shadow, unworthy to even look at it, nonetheless him. But even Newton's work is no longer the paradigm. Even his work is dismissed now as out-of-touch and outdated. Scientists look to Einstein now, looking to the 'better' theory. Even if I accomplish anything, my work will be overshadowed in time by a 'better' theory, casting me into a bygone era where no one will think of me or remember me; no scientist will look to my work. He will look to other work, instead. What is the point to it?" He gazed at her in desperation, blue eyes panicked and fragile. "Penny, what is the point?"

Penny hesitated, mind screaming as she tried to give him answer before shrugging, helpless. "Sweetie, I don't know what the point is. You want the truth, right?"

"The truth is all that matters."

"Maybe the truth is you've been looking at it too closely. You told me one time that everything has to be in its place, right? That's why you like all the structure and order. But what if you haven't been keeping your work in its place? What if it's taken over everything else, putting everything in disorder and chaos or something? It seems to me that you made your life all about your work and career, but your life is your life, Sheldon. Nothing can be your life but your life. Your work can't be your life—that's not how it works. Your work isn't all there is. It's like what Shakespeare says: 'There are more things, Horatio, in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' And your philosophy has been your work this whole time. Science or physics isn't your life—it's part of your life, not your actual life. Keep it in its place. Then you can do other things and actually live a life. Then you can work on that emptiness you feel. Because you can't just fill it with one thing, you know—that's not balanced. You gotta have a lot of different things that actually reflect Life, which includes everything."

Sheldon stared at her, blue eyes wide; he didn't seem to be breathing at all, and she began to panic that she had broken him before he inhaled slowly, shaking his head. "Your intelligence is subtle but vividly apparent. I have many recalculations to complete. I was wrong. I apologize, Penny—your understanding is elite. I have often derided your intelligence, and though it will never be at my own, yours is reputable."

She swallowed and waved a hand to control the emotions rising inside her. It was the first time anyone in her life, except her mom or dad, had praised her intelligence rather than her body or looks. "I still have a long way to go, you know."

He shuddered, haunted. "I once thought my journey was over, but I realize now that I have a long way to go, as well. My way may be longer than yours. I was wrong. I never thought I was wrong before. What if I was wrong before but did not realize it? I must reconsider everything that I have ever considered. If I was wrong about this, I could be wrong about so much more. I am wrong about so much more. To what links have I attached my chain of being? What if the chain's links are eroding, and I never realized it, for they consisted of fraudulent and misinterpreted data?"

"Sweetie, I know this sabotage is messing with your head, but- "

"How do you do such a thing to a friend?" he croaked, eyes far away, looking at things she never could see. "They were my friends. If I had analyzed the data accurately, I would have foreseen this."

Penny struggled for answers, wracking her mind for a comforting anecdote, but there was nothing. "I don't know," she whispered, shaken. One of the things that had always been apparent was that Leonard, Howard, and Raj were Sheldon's friends. But clearly, she was wrong—they weren't his friends. If she was wrong about something she thought was obvious, what else was she wrong about?

It was a painful feeling, making her question and re-evaluate everything—a feeling she knew that Sheldon was directly experiencing but on a whole other level.

"Maybe they didn't know what they were doing," Penny tried, but she knew it came out as desperate—because it was born of desperation for things to make sense and be the way things were previously.

Sheldon looked hollow; the world didn't even seem to touch him—because he was pulling away, drowning under the impact of the betrayal. "They knew. It was an act of hostility existing on animosity. The only conclusion is that they never considered me a friend."

The waitress returned with their meals, and though Penny didn't feel particularly hungry, and she knew that Sheldon didn't, either, she dug into her pancakes; Sheldon ate his burger silently, not even seeming to register its taste. He made no complaints or judged it in comparison to his Cheesecake Factory burger.

Nothing would ever be the same.

XxXxXxXxXxX

They stayed at the diner long enough to have dinner also, which didn't surprise her nearly as much as the fact Sheldon was capable of having long conversations. He seemed to speak about nothing and everything, mind in chaos; he switched from subject to subject, like he was fighting himself, trying to keep from slipping into something he was trying to avoid. Sometimes he talked about his dad; other times, he talked about the history of ketchup. Sometimes he talked about his siblings, Gig and Missy; other times, he talked about the miracle of gravity. It was all over the place, but she let him talk and asked questions. In return, she talked, too, surprised that he actively listened, watching her; he wasn't typing at his computer or working at his whiteboard, distracted, giving her a fraction of his attention. He stared at her as she spoke, seeming to take her seriously, holding her in his attention, even when she talked about Nebraska and her family.

It was different—it was really nice.

When they finally left the diner—Sheldon had paid for the two meals; she had offered, but he had refused, saying she gave him a lot to think about; it was only honorable to repay her—they returned to their apartment building; it was almost nine o'clock at night. As they ascended the building steps, encircling the elevator, she kept talking, trying to distract Sheldon from the inevitable—having to see the others again.

"Then Tommy figured out that if he just unhooked the fence, he didn't have to keep jumping over it," she explained, rolling her eyes thinking about her brother's antics. "Trust me, it saved him a lot of electric burns. And saved me from hearing all his whining."

"I see you inherited all the intelligence in your family line," Sheldon commented. "Like me."

Penny smirked up at him, walking past the last angle to reach their floor. "It's a wonder our siblings are still alive."

"I have the same wonder you do."

When they reached Sheldon's apartment, she waited for him to pull out his keys or knock on the door for Leonard to let him in, but he just stood there, staring at the door. After several moments, she twisted her neck to find his gaze; he looked lost. "You alright?"

"I do not want to see the Betrayers—any of them."

It took her a moment to realize that he alluded to Leonard, Howard, and Raj. "Well, looks like we'll be roommates for the night," she decided. "You're not gonna make me sign a contract, are you?"

Sheldon glanced down at her, lips twitching behind his goatee. "Your intellect is not in need of it."

She had no idea what he meant but decided to take it as a compliment. "Do you need anything from your apartment? I can go in and get it for you."

He looked back at her apartment, face faltering at the sight of her compromised door—she had forgotten about it. "I recommend taking the door, if possible."

Penny grinned and dared nudge him with her elbow. "Don't worry. I grabbed your crossbow earlier and threw it into my place. We have a weapon to defend ourselves. If anyone tries to break in, we'll decorate him with arrows—right in the ass, too."

"That would make Daddy proud," he commented distantly, eyes beginning to glaze.

She pushed him toward her apartment and unlocked the door—with her key, rather than reaching through the hole to unlatch it. "Stay here. I'll grab what you need. What do you want me to grab?"

Sheldon shuffled into her apartment, looking lost. "I abandoned my bags near the television. If you grab the largest one, that will suffice."

Penny nodded, watching him for several moments, before she closed the door and marched to his apartment; she tried the door, but it was locked. In response, she knocked with less patience than she wanted.

It took a long time, but Leonard finally opened the door, glaring at her blearily; he held an icepack to his cheek, stretching over his jaw. She breezed past him and found Sheldon's bags exactly where he had said—dropped in front of the television. She located the largest one and grunted when she pulled it; she squatted and heaved the bag onto her back, slipping her arms through the straps, but it was very heavy.

Sheldon was stronger than he looked.

But when she turned around, Leonard had shut the door and removed the icepack from his face; he stood in front of her, blocking her, making her see him.

No doubt, he was trying to make her feel guilty.

But the only thing she felt was pride at the sight of his swelling, discolored bruise—because she still had it, definitely.

"Get out of the way," she said flatly. "I'm serious."

Leonard held firm, stubborn; his face twisted in desperation. "You don't understand; you weren't there. You know how he is."

"You know how he is," Penny pointed out in disbelief and anger. "Clearly Sheldon was always right about how stupid you all are next to him if you didn't expect what you were in for! How could you sabotage him like that?"

"It his own fault he sent that stupid email!"

"He sent it because he trusted the results that you screwed up on purpose!"

"Why are you taking his side?" Leonard demanded, even point at his face. "You hit me- "

Penny felt no sympathy or regret. "If you can't understand why I did, you're as stupid as a paramecium."

Leonard's eyes narrowed. "Paramecium? Where's Sheldon?"

"He's staying the night with me," she responded. "And yes, I know what a paramecium is—he was telling me about it earlier."

"It was just a prank- "

Penny shook her head, tired of his excuses. "You can keep telling yourself that, Leonard, but that doesn't change what it is. You screwed him over; you sabotaged him. I think you know, but you just don't want to admit it—because it means you would have to recognize that everything's changed now. He was serious about terminating friendship with you, Howard, and Raj. I don't see how you can come back from it."

Leonard threw his hands in the air, frustrated. "Why are you on his side? You know how he is!"

"He's my friend," she responded, trying to keep her anger in check; if she failed, she would give him a matching bruise. "And I do know what he's like. I know that he's a lot more complicated than you think, and he's rough around the edges, but he's actually a real nice guy. Maybe you've never really known him like you thought you did—because if you did know him, you would have never sabotaged him with what you thought was a prank." She stepped forward and was rewarded when he took a step back; she didn't know what her face looked like, but she suspected based on the way he didn't look at her in the usual awed, devoted, lustful way. "And don't forget that I know why you sabotaged him—so you could come home. But it was more than that, wasn't it? It was so you could 'get with me,' right?"

His face was pale, but he shook his head. "No, that's not- "

"You're lying!" Penny cried out, recognizing the signs. "How do you think that makes me feel, Leonard, knowing that the thought of me is what made you sabotage Sheldon? Knowing that I'm the one responsible for it? Knowing that you used me as an excuse to screw him over? That's not love or anything; that's just lust. And I know it's lust because I know all about lust; I've felt lust a lot. When your mind is on fire, and you can't think about anything else—that's lust. When you think about everything that I can do for you and not you for me—that's lust. When you think about sex—that's lust. And that's exactly what you feel for me; there's no love. Don't pretend it's love—that's intellectual dishonesty."

"Don't quote Sheldon at me!"

"You screwed over Sheldon because you wanted to screw me!"

"That's not true!"

She crossed her arms, trying not to falter with the weight of Sheldon's backpack. "Tell me how I'm wrong. Tell me how I don't know what I'm talking about. You know what? Sheldon's always going on about heroes and archetypes and stuff. You thought you were the hero returning home to the beautiful maiden after a perilous journey, right? And the maiden would reward you when you got back, right? But really, you were actually the villain, Leonard, who sabotaged the hero for your own desires. That's what happened, and I'm telling you now—I don't like villains. I like Superman a lot better than Lex Luthor."

Leonard's face spasmed with a mixture of bitterness and frustration. "Stop quoting Sheldon- "

"Superman and Lex Luthor have nothing to do with what Sheldon likes and doesn't like; they have to do with what I like and don't like. Sheldon's my friend, and I don't see how you are right now. Have you actually helped me or spent time with me at all since we've met without the goal being to have sex, without hoping that I would 'reward' you or something and offer a late night? Because I have to tell you—I'm rethinking everything that we've done since we met. And I don't like having to second-guess everything, but I have to. Tell me I'm wrong, Leonard; tell me there wasn't always a hidden goal you had."

His eyes revealed the answer, but his face stretched in a desperate apology. "Penny, I'm sorry you feel that way- "

Penny sighed and closed her eyes briefly; her back was about to break, surely, from Sheldon's backpack. "I'm sorry I feel this way, too. I didn't want to feel this way, but there's no going back. I can't overlook all that. Now get out of the way, Leonard. I'm leaving."

Her willingness to punch him again must have shown on her face as he stepped aside with a drooping head. She marched out of the apartment and to her own. However, her door was no longer compromised; there were objects filling the holes from the crossbow bolts. But when she tried to open it, it was locked—of course.

She knocked. "Sheldon, open the door before I can't walk straight." The door opened immediately, and she dropped the backpack at his feet with a shudder. "What the hell is in there?"

"Necessities," Sheldon notified as she shut the door behind her, finally seeing how he had duct-taped objects to her door in a makeshift effort to fix her door.

"I'm guessing you didn't only use duct-tape," she drawled, glancing up at him. "Some spit, too?"

Sheldon's brows furrowed. "I reinforced it by applying the correct angle and pressure to- "

She didn't want to know and waved her hand before she saw the obvious—her apartment had been reorganized. It was comprehensible because she was familiar enough with Sheldon to understand the flow and rhythm—the literal structure—but she sighed. "Did you label anything?"

"My label-maker is in my apartment."

Penny shook her head in warning. "Nope. I'm not going back to grab it for you."

Sheldon didn't smile or look amused or grumpy liked she hoped; he still looked far away. "I was not going to ask you to. Thank you for obtaining my bag. My sleep schedule has been disrupted, and I seek to restore pleasant REM cycles. I hope having my bag will be beneficial."

She groaned in agreement, closing her eyes; today had been a very long day, and felt like her mind was all screwed up. All she knew was that nothing would ever be the same with the guys—but also her, too. And she didn't want to think about it; she wanted to sleep, too.

But where to sleep?

Penny made the decision quickly and dragged him with her into her bedroom. "Look, I'd offer you the bed and me the couch, but I haven't been sleeping well, and I can't afford a bad back tomorrow. That bag of yours already jarred me. We need to share my bed."

Sheldon just blinked at her and robotically slipped into the bed without saying anything; he was still in his clothes, not even thinking to change into pajamas or anything.

It freaked her out.

To try to make things normal—or as normal as could be—she tried to grin; she knew it wasn't as great as it needed to be. It looked like there was a reason she was a failed actress. "Don't worry—it's not like I'm gonna try to deflower you or anything."

Sheldon's head tilted, and a subtle awareness reached his eyes. "That is a chivalric term. It has its roots in Middle English."

Penny nodded in relief, finding her smile became a little more real, even though nothing was okay as she changed into her nightwear in the closet, door still open slightly so she could hear and talk to him. "Exactly. See? This will all be chivalrous- "

"But it is inaccurate, for it refers to a maiden's virginity," Sheldon interrupted, voice almost lifeless, but it contained a hint of something that reassured her. "I am not a maiden."

She exited her closet and pulled back the covers and slipped beside him, surprisingly aware of how much skin she was showing. But it was just Sheldon. But why did something feel different? "Well, I don't think I qualify as a maiden, either."

"Indeed. Your virginity is so far gone that you need a telescope to see it."

Penny laughed in surprise, amazed at the sheer feeling of relief knowing that Sheldon was still Sheldon—on some level. She was also unprepared for the swell of fondness with his typical Sheldon response, but she nodded. "Of course. I'm guessing to find yours you'd have to look under a microscope, right?"

Sheldon didn't react for several moments before blinking as he peered at her; his beautiful eyes sharpened slightly, murkiness clearing for awareness, even though it was brief. "I do not follow."

"Because it's impossible to find?"

"My virginity is apparent," he pointed out, confused; he resembled himself more, but there was still an obvious inconsistency that worried her. "Everyone says it is obvious."

Penny would have once laughed, for she had heard Leonard, Howard, and Raj—well, technically not Raj—make such remarks, and she had laughed back then. But she no longer felt like laughing. "Maybe listening to everyone isn't such a good idea."

Sheldon's blue eyes glazed. "I concur."

"No, no, no," she hissed and grabbed his arm beneath the covers, worried even more when he didn't jump away and fall out of the bed to put space between them. His arm was very warm to touch, and she felt the slender muscles—probably from all the writing on his whiteboard. "Don't do that. Stay with me. Don't go to wherever you're going to. I get that your mind is a big place, but it won't do you any good to be in such a big place. Just be here with me, alright?"

"It is all I know," he whispered, chest inhaling slowly but deeply. "I know nothing else. How do I not think? How do I look elsewhere from my mind?"

Penny blinked, surprised at the question. "You feel, instead."

His face twisted. "I despise emotions."

That didn't surprise her at all; it actually explained a lot about him. "Why?"

Sheldon twitched before something washed over his face. "I know you think I do not understand emotions, but I do, for I have always been deeply emotional, to my utmost horror and grief. I hate emotions and separate myself from them, for I know Emotion's effects. I know what it does; I know how it works; I know the worst acts in the world are committed out of emotion. Rape is born of emotion; murder is born of emotion; betrayal is born of emotion; and theft is born of emotion. Emotions are Man's scourge, hindering discovery and weakening integrity. Emotions are crippling."

Penny smiled in sympathy. "Sweetie, I know that big brain of yours thought that up, but that's a load of steaming crap. Sure, the bad things are born of emotion, but the good things are, too. Don't you like balance? You think you'd love that and everything. And there's a lot of good with emotion; there's a lot more good than bad. Anyone who says different, including you, is choking on hogwash."

He glanced at her, startled; his blue eyes seemed brighter, almost burning. "Daddy would always say that."

"Hogwash?"

"Affirmative."

"I never met George Cooper, but he sounds like he was a good man."

Sheldon's face flickered. "He was complicated," he whispered.

Penny dared pat his arm, squeezing gently but firmly; it felt pleasant to do so. "As everyone is. The world's not as simple as you think it is, Sheldon; it's a complicated place—because it's part of a complicated universe, right?"

"Right," Sheldon agreed, words barely audible, looking lost and like he didn't trust himself.

She laid back on her pillow, watching him for several moments. "I trust you not to try anything sleeping here in the same bed with me—I trust you. But you need to start trusting yourself again about anything. I know you doubt yourself; I know you feel lost; and I know you're second-guessing everything you've ever done because you don't trust that you did any of it right. But trust yourself, Sheldon. Because you know yourself, right? Trust that you know yourself, and then work outwards and trust other things—trust other people."

He glanced at her, blue eyes holding something within them that she couldn't decipher. "I trust you."

Penny controlled the emotions surging through her at his statement—confession. "And I trust you right back. Start trusting yourself again."

"I am unable to right now."

"Well, you will one day. You're gonna have to start sometime. Now go to sleep, Sheldon; close your eyes. It won't be bad sharing a bed."

Sheldon perked up slightly, surprising her. "I agree. It will be much more pleasant than sleeping with the Betrayers in the nude."

Penny really didn't want to know.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Sheldon did not sleep, not even because he did not wear his pajamas or due to the knowledge of Penny's compromised front door. It was not his chivalric instincts, for he kept his ears open for a sign of a possible invasion. He was a chivalrous knight, after all, and though Penny was no maiden, he wanted to defend her.

However, that was not the source of his insomnia.

His mind refused to rest, swimming in an erratic cauldron, and it was beginning to boil. Past and present were muddled as his memories swarmed him, one image morphing into another without structure; his sense of time was compromised. Everything no longer fit in its designated place, unfortunately. Nothing could be the same. His structured life was disintegrated, torn asunder with scraps piercing his flesh, penetrating his psyche, allowing those infernal memories to slip through; everything he had tried diligently to prevent was happening to him. There was no order; there was no balance; there was no peace; and there was no understanding—for nothing made sense due to the disorientation he suffered.

But one thing stood out to him, something he had overlooked, astonishingly. Penny had been right, revealing a remarkable intelligence that he had never considered—things must be in their places, which he already knew. However, as she pointed out, he had not had his work in its place. His life became his work, the one thing he tried so desperately to preserve, but it shattered, leaving him alone and isolated—as he always was. His disorientation would not be as disorienting if he had kept his work in its place. He had believed—believed rather than known—that since his work associated with physics, which encompassed the universe, that it was the highest order to pursue, that there was nothing possible to surpass it. Thus, he had overstretched his work's influence, bringing it into all facets of his life, for it entailed the universe. But his life was not the universe; it was a false equivalency. His life was part of the universe—part of the world in which he lived. Thus, his work was part of his life, not the other way around—as he had irrationally and absurdly deemed.

Furthermore, if his work was as primary as he had believed, he would not be so devastated by his disorientation—by the betrayal. The betrayal of his experiment was horrifying, but it was secondary to the betrayal of his friends. The connections he thought he shared with the Betrayers was more important than his intellectual pursuits. Both were important, and because both were destroyed, he was lost—but there was one that was more intense, crippling, and mystifying. The emotional betrayal was more impactful and withering than the intellectual betrayal, for he had valued his friends more than his intellectual passions.

Why else had he invited unworthy scientists to accompany him on his grand endeavor?

He had never realized it, which meant there were other things he had never realized it. His personal paradigm was shifting, growing, expanding, and reorientating with new measurements and evidence.

Penny was right—things must be in their places. However, he had overlooked the other places of his life; he had neglected them, revealing an innate imbalance in his being. It was a horrifying oversight that he needed to rectify. But he did not want to rectify it, for he knew what rectifying it meant—he knew what he would have to do to rectify it. It was too much! He could never go back! He had dedicated years of his life to chaining those memories—those events—away! He had looked to science for answers to fill the emptiness inside him, the emptiness that had always existed but became a gaping chasm with the power of a black hole that threatened to swallow him on that day!

But science was not enough—blasphemy!

Yet, it was true; it was chilling and horrifying, but it was true.

And there was nothing more important than the truth.

Sheldon watched Penny sleep, tracing the curve of her face with his eyes, and following the wild spillage of her golden hair and observing the serene gladness on her notable features—he wished it never to leave her face. Not even the drool drifting out of her parted lips made him look away—nothing could make him look away, not even if she opened her eyes and caught him staring at her.

He was in awe.

Somehow, she understood what he did not—what he never had. She knew it instantly, having assessed and analyzed in moments, and arrived at her staggering conclusions. It was impressive and noteworthy; it left him stunned, making him rethink and re-evaluate. She challenged his perception and asked questions that were stimulating in different ways than listening to lectures or speaking with fellow scientists. When speaking with fellow scientists, it had always been obvious to him that they spoke to him not out of pleasure or enjoyment; they spoke to him either out of obligation or selfishness, trying to enhance their intellectual caliber and understanding. They spoke to him for themselves, engaging with him due to their selfish desires.

However, Penny spoke with him not out of a selfish objective—it was revolutionary. She spoke to him for him, not for herself; she spoke with him because she actively, genuinely cared and held affection for him, enjoying talking to him, even if she did not enjoy physics or understand it.

Instead, she enjoyed him, despite their many quarrels.

It was intriguing.

Iron sharpened iron, creating a sharper, more potent weapon, and he had assumed himself already sharp. However, his profound failure denoted that he was dull and neutered. But Penny had challenged him with her keen sense, sharpening the blunt blocks into pristine edges, which gleamed with knew truths that pierced through his mind, illuminating that which he had never considered. The only reason she was so successful was due to her persistence in actively wanting to talk to him, not out of fear or obligation or selfishness. When she asked him questions, she wanted to know his answers not to enhance her career or try to undermine him in a subversive strategy but to know him better. She did not want to know about his career, for she understood his career was part of him. Thus, when she learned about him by asking her questions and absorbing their interactions in her unique understanding, she learned about his career, even if it was not her objective.

She fascinated him not for the first time. However, his fascination now almost left him gasping, for it was revolutionary—because she was revolutionary. He had looked for evolution his entire life, trying to progress in a linear function, but what if he had needed revolution, instead? After all, the great discoveries were always revolutions rather than evolutions. Whether it was Copernicus' model of the universe, Galileo's heresy against the domineering papal authority across Europe, Newton's miraculous calculations, or Einstein's staggering achievements, each was a revolution at its essence, not an evolution. He had never known it, but he had been looking for a revolution in his life for all his life, thinking that the revolution would appear in his work, producing lasting changes for generations of scientists. But what if the revolution was not in his work but outside of his work? What if the revolution outside of his work could have a greater impact on his work because his work was part of his life, reflective of the revolution outside of his work, achieving a serene balance that had always eluded him, even with his imposed order and structure?

Penny was a revolution in his life, not a mere evolution—or de-evolution—as he had originally surmised.

What else was she?

Sheldon stared at her; he knew her features, having memorized them the moment he saw her years ago. He would never not know what she looked like, whether when she was joyful or frustrated. However, the way he looked at her was different now. His mind remembered everything he had ever seen, but the foremost problem of his life was that he had never seen everything; his memories only consisted of that which he had seen, not everything that had been apparent to him, for he had never seen everything that was apparent, letting obvious evidences slip through the cracks of his understanding, falling into the abyss of non-memory and non-retention—and he had only seen Penny in a limited, fraudulent, simplistic way. His memories of her before were incomplete, derived from a limited mind and perception that had only seen what he was capable of seeing then; his memories henceforth would have different colors, different focuses—a complete image that was accurate and brimming with honest totality.

Mama taught him to preserve and respect a woman's modesty, but Sheldon found his eyes wander, dipping beneath the covers where intriguing, mesmerizing flesh met his gaze. The precedent was set—the hero always peeked. However, he did not feel like a hero; he was a failure, ousted by simpletons from his grand destiny of obtaining the Nobel.

A hero would never be outwitted so completely.

But Daddy told him he needed to fight, and Penny echoed his lessons, agreeing with them. He had always dismissed Daddy and Penny as advisors of any sort, thinking them simple and unworthy to advise him about anything, thinking they understood little but frivolities. Yet, if he had heeded Daddy and Penny's lessons—if he had paid attention and absorbed them—he would have foreseen the Betrayers' treachery.

It was his own fault—he had made decisions that influenced other decisions, which culminated in his humiliation. He had made wrong decisions, but it was not an immediate source. It had been building for a long time, festering. He needed to deduce the source of his wrong decisions. What was the genesis of his momentum towards his appalling but inevitable humiliation?

He knew what he needed to do—there was only one logical conclusion.

Sheldon slipped out from the bed and obtained Penny's laptop, logging in—she was too obvious with her password. His laptop was in one of the other bags back in his apartment, which left him with only Penny's to use. But he made his necessary arrangements and created a viable schedule to which he would adhere vigilantly.

He was going home—he had to oversee the evolution of the revolution that Penny had evoked.

XxXxXxXxXxX

She was only able to say a few words to Sheldon before she left for work, but he had already been up; he had just been sitting in the bed where she left him last night, staring into nothingness, eyes so far away he looked like a telescope. But there was a difference that she could never have predicted. Sheldon hugged her when she said she was leaving; he actually pulled her to him with an awkward tenderness and held her.

"Thank you, Penny," he had whispered, voice worn and old, but he stared at her with a clarity she was unsure he had ever possessed. Penny hadn't known how to respond but say 'you're welcome' and cut off their hug, though it had been a really, really nice hug. But since she was late for work, she took off with one last wave at Sheldon.

The workday was brutal, and by the time she got back to her apartment, her feet were killing her, and she smelled of cooking grease, but when she reached her floor, she saw Leonard, Howard, and Raj whispering furiously in the doorframe of Sheldon and Leonard's apartment. However, when they noticed her, they went silent and none looked at her.

It filled her with foreboding.

When she noticed that she had a new door on her apartment, her brows rose, realizing that Sheldon must have already discussed it with the landlord or something. But Sheldon was nowhere to be seen. Was he still inside her apartment? Had he taken up residence there and abandoned his apartment with Leonard?

It seemed likely.

Leonard stepped forward, fact still bruised. "Penny- "

She glared at him as she went to her apartment. "We have nothing to say to each other."

"Sheldon left."

Silence.

Something cold gripped her as she saw the confirmation on their faces. "He's gone?"

Howard shrugged. "Didn't show up for work today but sent an email saying he was resigning from his position and all honors, effective immediately, due to his failure at the Arctic. He said he made irredeemable mistakes. It was completely out of the blue."

Leonard looked desperate, but she felt sick when she realized that it was because he didn't want her to think poorly of him, not because he was worried that Sheldon had vanished. "We thought he just needed a few days to cool off, but then we got back, and he was gone. We talked to the landlord, and apparently, Sheldon packed up some of his stuff while we were at work and paid off the rest of his rent share for the year. He didn't leave a message—nothing. He's gone. He left a lot of his stuff, but he didn't say anything."

Penny felt sick—even more sick!—and infuriated in equal measure, feeling like she could barely breathe; an intense panic gripped her heart and squeezed. "Where did he go?"

Raj shrugged while Howard shook his head. "Didn't say."

"He didn't say goodbye," she whispered, trying to understand why she felt so hurt and crushed—and she suspected why but didn't want to consider it, not yet. "This is your fault- "

Leonard winced and wavered. "Penny, we had no idea this would happen- "

"It's still your fault!"

"He's the one who decided to leave!"

"Because of your dumbass sabotage!"

Howard scoffed. "Which was done because he was being a tyrant."

Penny wasn't feeling gracious—not at all! "And that dumbass sabotage was done because you are all dumbasses who couldn't see what was right in front of you and weren't prepared! Apparently, you're not only socially incompetent; you're intellectually incompetent, too, unable to see patterns and make connections!"

Leonard's face flushed with outrage and shame—and bitterness. "Stop quoting Sheldon- "

"I quote him when he's right!" she cried out, flinging her arms out with the force of her upheaval, unfortunately giving a better view of the food stains on her uniform. "And I always thought he was too critical about you guys and your intellects, but it turns out that he was right! If anything, he undersold it!"

"Says the one who dropped out of community college," Howard muttered, glaring at her. "Don't blame this on us. Sheldon chose to leave- "

Penny's fists clenched, and she saw them back up in wariness, but it didn't help her; the only thing that would help her was Sheldon returning, but she didn't know if he would. It didn't sound like he was. "But he didn't have to leave! If you idiots hadn't been such fucking asshats, he would have stayed! I didn't like when any of you were gone, but now that all of you minus one are back, I preferred when you were all gone—because I knew everything was okay! I knew that he was okay! Look what you've done! He could be anywhere! He could be doing anything! He could be hurt!"

Howard paled and glanced at Leonard and Raj, worried. "He's plotting vengeance against us—he must be- "

She nearly slugged him right then and there, and she scoffed, disgusted. "That's it, isn't it? You only care about you. You only care that he's gone because you can't track him or control him or whatever; you only care about if he's going to do anything to screw you over after you screwed him over. You don't actually care that he's gone, do you? He's supposed to be your friend!"

Raj looked ashamed, averting his eyes, posture drooping, while Leonard and Howard looked more angry than sad. "He'll be fine," Leonard dismissed, jutting out his chin in certainty. "He just needs to cool off. He'll be back in a couple days."

"He might never come back!" Penny snapped, voice cracking.

Howard's brows rose. "Is that really a bad thing?"

Penny feared attacking them—and even possibly killing them—with how furious and hurt she felt. To prevent possible murder, she whirled around, unlocked her apartment—realizing, thankfully, that it was the same keyhole—and stepped inside; she slammed the door shut.

"Women," Howard muttered in deriding disbelief from outside. "She's a terrible actress—because she's so obviously on Sheldon's side. She's not even making an effort to hide it."

She peeked through the peephole to see Leonard nod in agreement as they went inside Sheldon and Leonard's apartment—no, it was only Leonard's apartment now. "I'm glad she wasn't serving us our drinks. I think she would have drenched us."

"Or punched us," Raj added, voice somber; he was the only one who seemed regretful somewhat.

"Again," Leonard added, voice bitter and more nasally than usual.

The door shut, and Penny braced her forehead against her door, squeezing her eyes shut. The door felt cool to her skin, making her realize how hot she felt; she felt like she was burning inside—it hurt too much! She didn't even care that Sheldon had gotten her a new door; she cared that he was gone without giving her warning. She understood needing to get away—she understood a lot better than most people as she had needed to get away from home; it was why she left Nebraska for California. But why didn't he tell her goodbye? Why didn't he give her a chance to talk to him one last time?

Or had his shocking hug this morning been his attempt at saying goodbye?

Penny's eyes misted at the thought, and she scrubbed them away with uneven swipes of her fingers, trying not to fall into a fit of emotion—but it was hard. She needed a bath—and a drink. Yes, a drink would be good—it would be nice. But she couldn't drink, for she still remembered the expression on Sheldon's face when he spoke about his dad drinking himself to death.

She had felt so much better when he was in the Arctic with the others, for she knew that he was safe; she knew that he was okay. But now, she had no ideas. It made her panic because she wanted him to be safe and okay; she wanted him looked after!

She wanted him to come back in one piece!

The only hope she had was that he would reach out—or return—when he was ready, but when she thought about how he acted yesterday, it seemed unlikely.

Why did the thought of him cutting off contact crush her?

Penny sniffed, unable to stop the tears before freezing. There, in stylized penmanship on her coffee table, she saw her name written on an envelope. She inhaled slowly, knowing its writer, and picked up the letter like a holy relic, an object of remembrance. Sheldon had left without warning, without a goodbye—or so she thought. He had left her a memento—an actual permanent goodbye that she could read again and again.

But did she read it? Did she want to read it? What if he cursed her for knowing him? What if he regretted their times together? What if he cursed her and blamed her? What if he mocked her? What if he severed their friendship and connection?

None of that mattered—she wanted the truth.

She pulled out the papers from inside, top right corners stapled together, and saw that it was computer paper—all typed on in sophisticated fonts, printed out. She tried to prepare herself for anything before her eyes roamed and read:

Dear Penelope "Penny,"

I hope my departure has not inconvenienced you; I suspect it liberates you. You can live your life now according to yourself and not my dictates. There are many things I suspect for which I must apologize, but I lack your discerning powers. I do not know how to apologize to you, for I know propagation instead of concentration. I suppose I must apologize for that. I'm sorry, Penny. I realize that my understanding was never anything more than my perception—and my perception was wrong. May you choose your friends better than I did. Well, except one—because somehow, I chose correctly with you. Or, more accurately, you chose me. I have never been able to deduce why you wanted to be friends with me. My memories are scattered; I no longer think clearly. None are in their categorized places I administered them. However, I think of the times we shared, and I wonder. Why did you stay? Why did you fight for a place in my life, for you fought vigorously and expended valuable effort to try to understand me as best you could? I know I did not offer anything valuable socially, and I know you do not understand my work. I also know that you did not stay because the Betrayers offered you anything of substance, either socially or intellectually—quite like me, it appears. The only conclusion I have arrived at is that you enjoyed me, even when, according to you, I was "a pain worthy of the Devil."

The mysteries of friendship and love have often eluded me. I find pleasure in complexity and find it stimulating in ways nothing is. But not even I can grasp friendship and love's complexities—it is too much for me. I took a simplistic view—the most intellectually simplistic, shamefully. I ignored investigating friendship and love for a long time, dismissing it as inconsequential to my research and pursuits. Yet, when you invaded my life, I considered that forgotten subject again. For the first time since my times at home with my family, I began to make strides in my understanding thanks to you—thanks to watching and observing you, assessing what you do and analyzing it. You are chaotic and unfit for logic; you are irksome and tenacious; you are loud and haughty; you are disorderly and messy; and you are fiery and temperamental. But you are exceptional and revolutionary. You understand a complexity that I am unsure I ever can. But you understood it always, didn't you? You knew how it worked; you knew the connections; you knew the nature; you knew the frame; you knew the foundations; and you knew the boundaries. It is extraordinary, for you are extraordinary. You are a genius, Penny—never let a fool say you are not. You understand something instinctively that my intellect cannot, which makes you a genius beyond me.

I see that now. Your genius lies in a different area, but it is no less valuable and important—a stunning revelation that I rebel against but know it is true, unfortunately. The truth is all that matters. I have undergone a radical reorientation in the past day. What held my attention is not as powerful as that which holds it now. The impact of the Betrayers' betrayal reveals to me what is more important. The intellectual betrayal was secondary to the primary source that ravishes me—the heart. The emotional betrayal was worse. My heart does beat; it does have its passions; it does try to sway me with the promise of desires; and it does connect and seek trust and understanding. I do feel love's pull, unfortunately. I detest emotions, Penny, which I know is an emotion in and of itself—it is most shameful. It has stolen many peaceful REM cycles from me as I have tried desperately to reconcile myself. Though I have aspired to compromise the strings attached to my irksome heart, I have been unable to fray the strands; I have been unable to wither them; I have been unable to sever them. I tried to grasp them with intellectual fingers and rip them away, but they are composed of a material invulnerable to my probing, something akin to the fictional adamantium, the indestructible substance coating Wolverine's skeleton. I have come to the realization that not even Superman could destroy my heart's strings. Though, perhaps if he used his heat vision, he might accomplish it. Alas, Superman is only real in my comic books and my mind, and I have realized that what is in my mind does not equal how things are. My mind does not possess the truth like I thought it did. Unfortunately, my emotions have always been present; they have always stirred sensations inside me; they have always provoked memories I despise; they have always crippled my logic; they have always weakened me; they have always hindered my pursuits; and they have always reminded me that I am of this mortal species instead of a superior species.

I wanted emotions out of my life; I wanted them banished and exiled, frozen in the frigid wasteland of my eternal disregard; I wanted them to be forgotten and unknown, the legacy of all men to ever come before me; I wanted their impurity to be cleansed by order, structure, and logic, which are the hallmarks of civilization and mankind. I thought I was succeeding in my noble quest; I thought my strides were swift and eager; I thought my accomplishment of total serenity was imminent, only years away. But you invaded my life and refused to leave; you provoked my emotions, calling their existence forth in a primal greeting; you bivouacked yourself in my life and challenged my order with your chaos; you crumbled the pillars of logic I erected and scattered the pieces in dust, leaving disarray and confusion; and you made me accept the fact that I am a man rather than, perhaps, a latent Kryptonian with an enhanced intellectual capacity without the yellow sun's powers-inducing properties. I resented you for a long time and perceived your invasion as unwelcome and unnecessary—a crime against my pursuits and infallible reasoning. I thought my life was ending when you invaded; I thought you would pull me apart and glue the pieces together in a misshapen mass, a distortion of the identity I fashioned for myself, for your amusement; I thought you would disintegrate all my strivings and ruin every gain I obtained previously; and I thought my life would cease to be my life, deprived of the potency and purity I administered with my order and structure.

However, I was wrong. The best years of my life since my early years have been these recent two since you invaded—it is a correlation I cannot overlook, even if I want to in a desire to suppress those pesky emotions. You have taught me things that science could not—cannot. Your intelligence and aptitude are striking, for your understanding is beyond me. I hold no doubts that you could understand the lesser realms of science with enough persistence and effort within several months of intensive study. However, I have dedicated my entire life, from when my memory begins when I was five months old to now, to understanding friendship, love, and social bonds, and I have never understood any of it. But you understand it, and you have taught me many things that I have not wanted to learn but needed to learn. Thank you. You are revolutionary, and you have produced in my life a revolution that will crumble the old order around which I shaped my life—it has already begun. You are right—things must be in their places, a truth I have always known. However, I did not apply that truth as I needed to, specifically pertaining to my work, which impacts all facets of my life due to my overstretching of my work's essence. You are right—my work is not my life; my work is part of my life. It is a staggering distinction I had never realized—until you. I have not realized many things until you, Penny. You should take pride. It is not simply "anyone," least of all a "dumb blonde," who can evoke in me, who possesses the most premier intelligence across mankind, powerful realizations about myself and Life.

After watching you and interacting with you over these two years, listening to the vague knowledge you exude, I realized the impacts of Leonard, Howard, and Rajesh in my life. I realized they were my friends and the value they held. They were not simply my colleagues as I had considered for so long. Their value was deeper than "colleagues." I wanted them to be part of my great triumph, which is why I invited them—because they were my friends. Before you invaded my life, I would have never invited them, but I saw the extensive, profound value of friendship—because you are my friend and revealed it to me. I do not blame you for what happened—I blame myself for not understanding the complexities. I thought they would honor the expedition and look to the truth as I do to try to grasp the mysteries all around us; I thought they were worthy of my trust and regard to help me undertake the biggest experiment of my life; I thought they would want to help me because I considered them my friends. What I never considered is that I am not their friend; it was not a reciprocal connection. However, it is different with you.

You are the only friend I have ever had, Penny. No one but you has ever been my friend. You possess a striking warmth that radiates charisma and understanding. I am familiar with the moth and flame metaphor, for I conducted experiments when I was a child on it. I considered its scientific potential meek and turned to other areas. Yet, it is not only a scientific phenomenon; it is a social phenomenon, one founded in love and affection. For a long time, I thought it was asinine; I thought only a cretin could conceive something so absurd. However, on the rare times I entertained such idiocy, I realized my intellectual fertility was the brightest flame in the world. I thought everyone in my life, and everyone I would ever meet, would be moths drawn to the miraculous flame of my intellect. I thought I would never be a moth. But I was wrong, for while my intellect is a miraculous flame, I am still a moth. By moth, I mean a metaphor for being trapped in an indescribable yearning. Perhaps all of our species are moths—I must consider this more. However, I was the moth drawn to your flame, Penny, for you hold within you a remarkable warmth, kindness, and adaptability. You evoke the best in me. Chaos is needed to purify order, to bring order to its full potential as order emerges directly from and out of chaos, and I see that is what you are—you purify me and refined me to reach my full potential, which had been far away due to my many poor decisions.

Now I see you for the genius you are, for you are revolutionary. Thank you, for I see now that the friendship you offered me, though I remained unaware for a long time, is a gift. I apologize for only now realizing what must have been obvious to you. I do not know how to repay you for the gift you gave me except to say that I love you, and I mean my vow—for the first time in a long time, I mean it. I do not understand why I love you, only that I do. I despise the innate contradiction within that statement, but it is the truth, which my intellect does not grasp—not yet, anyway. Perhaps you could deduce why I love you and explain its significance and interpretation to me, for I trust you to be my teacher about it; I would trust no one else to do so. Missy would tease me, my mother would beg to know all the details of this excruciating confusion, and my meemaw would tell me to 'follow my feelings,' which is nonsense—or, as Daddy would say, hogwash. But you would understand—I know you would.

I hope you are not upset by my departure, Penny. I am sure you noticed by now, but I took the liberty of paying the landlord for the damage I inflicted on your door. There was an extra door in storage from previous renovations, and the landlord attached it. I oversaw its completion, of course. I also procured for you an extra lock to facilitate a more rigorous burglary prevention protection. I hope you do not mind. But if you do mind, I colloquially recommend that you "get over it," as safety is paramount. You can never be too careful. I also left you my crossbow and its attachments, including projectiles—where I am going, guns are more efficient and accepted. I also attached an envelope of money under your bed in case you ever become in need of it. I know you have had difficulty with your finances before. Though, I recommend you use the additional funds to rectify the damage to your car with that infernal check engine notification instead of buying shoes or other frivolities. However, I leave the decisions to your discretion.

I do not need the money, so do not feel guilty. I have never cared for the Material as I have looked to the Universe for the answers I know await me; I have looked to abstract thoughts, which hold no material value. Yet, I scoffed at everything else within the Immaterial, deriding it and dismissing it. I thought it unimportant and the only facet of the Immaterial realm that the mediocre simpletons around me were capable of. However, now I see that it is time for me to discover the other side of the Immaterial, that side in which friendship and love are born. For reasons that astonish me in that I cannot discern the source, there is a part of me that suspects there is more for me to find in that side of the Immaterial than the side I have focused on for so many years.

I do not know when I will see you again, nor if you wish to keep in contact while I am gone. No one ever has before but my family. However, I offer you my phone number and email address as methods of communication (you already know them due to your incessant snooping), for I would like to continue our friendship. You revealed to me that friendship is reciprocal. I do not make you keep in contact with me; the choice is yours if you wish to or not. I hope you will, but if you do, I must make one request—please do not contact me after 9:00PM Central Time, which is 7:00PM Pacific Time (your time zone, currently). I still must adhere to my sleep schedule. As an act to show you my seriousness, I hereby delegate you as the beneficiary of my Spot until I return. Do not stain it again. To give you peace of mind, for I know you worry, or will attempt an unplanned, hazardous trip to locate me, I return home now. I will stay there for as long as I must. It is something I must do, and I do not expect you to understand, though I suspect you do understand—such is your genius. I have many recalculations to undertake, many more than even I anticipate now; there is new data to discover, document, and incorporate into my understanding.

May you live long and prosper, Penny.

Your friend, Sheldon

She pulled her eyes away, stunned, tears spilling down her cheeks. She thought that Sheldon had the biggest mouth she'd ever met, always talking and saying whatever was on his mind, but she realized that for every one thing that Sheldon said, there were a dozen other things that he didn't say; there was so much he never said, content to hold it all in his beautiful mind. She had just read the most heartfelt message of her life, and it had been from Sheldon—Sheldon! It was Sheldon revealing more emotion and depth than she had ever seen! It was unbelievable!

But it was real—the evidence was held in her shaking hands.

Penny knew that her becoming friends with Sheldon and the others was a big moment, especially for her because she was trying to become someone better, someone she could be proud of, but she never realized how big of an impact it had on Sheldon. After all, while she had always thought his instinct was to run his mouth, it was obvious now that his actual instinct was to be silent and rely on previous conversations for fuel, referencing structures and orders—thing he had already introduced and imposed. But apparently, she had made a big impact in his life, bigger than she ever imagined, for he called her revolutionary.

And he called her a 'genius.' No one had ever called her a genius before, and she knew that he meant it—Sheldon meant it. The smartest guy she was ever going to meet in her life meant what he said when he called her a genius and believed that she was a genius, capable of so much more than most people.

How had she missed so much? How had she overlooked so many things? There must have been signs that Sheldon thought such things about her! But what were the signs? When she had caught Sheldon staring at her with his impressive gaze, she had always thought it was because he was annoyed with her or trying to conceive a way to insult her or something. But what if he had been assessing her? What if he had been trying to figure out the impact she had in his life? What if he was thinking how revolutionary she was? What if he was thinking that she was a genius, which frustrated him because he didn't understand her or how she was actually a genius?

But something told her that his perceptions had changed recently, certainly in part due to Leonard, Howard, and Raj's bullshit sabotage.

It was also clear that, despite his claims to the contrary, Sheldon understood love and friendship—or, at least, was beginning to. By her judgment, he certainly understood it a lot better than Leonard, Howard, and Raj—he seemed to understand it better than some of her own other friends that she used to hang out with more. Maybe that's why she had started hanging out with her old friends less and less—because she realized, on some level, that Sheldon was a really good friend and understood friendship. He also seemed to understand friendship better than she did, as in seeing its effects and studying them, comparing them with instances in his memory. She never did anything in friendship out of an intellectual focus or anything; she didn't talk to Sheldon and be his friend by analyzing everything and seeing the depths of connections or whatever—she did it because she followed her instincts.

But Sheldon didn't have those instincts—or, if he did, he had suppressed them in favor of 'order, structure, and logic.' Yet, Sheldon tried and made effort; he was trying to understand and had written the most honest—possibly too honest in some areas—letter she had ever read, and he wrote it for her because he wanted to, because he wanted to thank her, revealing a hospitality and maturity that she wasn't expecting.

And he said that he loved her. What did that mean?

Penny reread parts of his letter, knowing she would be rereading it for months—she might memorize the whole thing and be able to recite it in a week. But Sheldon didn't even sign it as Dr. Cooper, only as 'Sheldon,' which was a lot more informal—but more intimate—than normal for him. Or was it because he no longer saw himself as a worthy scientist and punished himself by leaving off the 'Dr. Cooper' after what happened with his experiment?

Her heart no longer hurt as much as it had after first learning that he left because he had, in his own way, said goodbye to her, leaving her part of himself—more parts than she ever gave him credit for—in a letter addressed to her, for her eyes only. He revealed himself to her, being honest and reflective—being genuinely himself on all levels for, maybe, the first time she had ever known him. No longer was there the performance. For the first time, she realized with a jolt of shock that Sheldon was an actor just like she was an actress. Sheldon performed for people and acted how he knew was acceptable and familiar; he wrote his own script and performed for himself, but it was still a performance—one he had been pretty good at. But he left the performance when writing his letter, leaving the façade and forced separation behind. The break in performance, directed according to the order, structure, and logic he had imposed in his life, had clearly started after Leonard, Howard, and Raj's bullshit sabotage, and she had seen a whole new side of him the previous day in the diner and when they shared her bed to sleep, but his farewell letter had illuminated all the shadows of him that she had once been unaware of.

It was just Sheldon—the true, real, grand totality and complexity of Sheldon.

She quite really liked Sheldon—liked him a lot. And she missed him even more, knowing that he was leaving alone to return home. But she trusted that he knew what he was doing—knowing that he needed it.

Penny wiped her tears and checked under her mattress and found another envelope, marked: Spend intelligently—I know you are capable of it. She felt the thickness of it in her hands and swallowed, opening it; by her brief look, it was at least over a year's worth of rent and more.

She stuffed the envelope back under the mattress, sitting there for a long time, just thinking—or rethinking all the events she could think, like she knew Sheldon had been doing.

Overwhelmed, she pulled out her phone and entered a message and sent it to him: Whenever youre ready call me Im going to miss you I miss you already

She hoped he would be alright.

XxXxXxXxXxX

That's it. I hope that you all enjoyed it.

Stay Safe
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