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!

4. Chapter 4

Thank you for the reviews. I appreciate it.

This is the last chapter of this story, so I hope you enjoy. Thank you for reading.

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

XxXxXxXxXxX

Daddy's truck was restored finally—but Sheldon felt his mind far away from restoration. He had worked from approximately 1:30 AM to 11:45 AM—over ten hours in total, no breaks, no thoughts but finishing what he had started.

He had to stop failing!

Unfortunately, upon completing the restoration, there was no sense of relief or elation; there was only the emptiness that had steadily been growing beneath his awareness, threatening to suck him in like a black hole, swallowing and leaving nothing left. Even when he inserted the keys and twisted, evoking a powerful roar from the engine, he felt numb and distant to it—it was less loud than the shrieking emptiness that maddened him.

He tried everything he could deduce to regain concentration and direct him with momentum, but reading comic books did nothing; reading peer-reviewed scientific papers did nothing; eating a brownie did nothing; watching old Star Trek reruns did nothing; reciting the digits of pi did nothing; completing complex mathematic equations did nothing; listening to Mozart did nothing; imagining a conversation with Einstein, Newton, Galileo, and Copernicus did nothing; remembering tedious events of his life did nothing; playing video games did nothing; and banishing his memories did nothing, for his memories were too resilient and alive. No matter what he did, the void beckoned him, making it harder to look away and focus elsewhere.

His only option lied in human contact. However, he did not want to contact Penny, who, due to her remarkable genius, would deduce his problem and investigate, probing and questioning—it was intolerable!

He needed to talk to someone who had known Daddy and could tell him the secret to forgetting.

"You don't look too good, Moonpie," Meemaw greeted, face twisting in sadness when he arrived at her doorstep.

Sheldon accepted her embrace and wrapped his arms gently around her. "I slept minimally last night."

"I can tell. Were you feeling sick? Do I need to sing Soft Kitty to you?"

"Sleep disturbances," he dismissed, ignoring what sounded like Penny's voice in his head declaring that his heart was sick. "I realized there would be no rest."

Meemaw looked concerned. "You didn't wake your mama up, did you?"

"If I did, it was unintentional; she could fall asleep swiftly thereafter. I left the house and went to the garage and completed my restoration of Daddy's truck."

"You got that old thing running?" Memmaw asked, impressed; there was a twinkle in her eye. "Bazinga?"

Sheldon shook his head. "No Bazinga."

"How did you manage getting it running?"

"My genius falls within the scope of many realms."

Meemaw ushered him into her small house, as she had so many times throughout his life. "Do you want some tea?"

"Water only."

"Then go fill yourself a glass and bring me one, too," Meemaw said with a kind smile and relaxed on her couch.

Sheldon dutifully went into her kitchen, located two glasses, filled each with water, and returned to the living room; he handed Meemaw her glass before sitting in the chair perpendicular to the couch. "Thank you," he whispered, taking a long sip; he knew that the water was the same as at home, but there had always been an intrinsic quality in Meemaw's water that produced a more memorable taste.

"You ever going to tell us why you quit your job?"

Sheldon shook his head automatically. "I did not quit; I resigned."

"That sounds like quitting to me."

"There is a difference."

"But it's the same thing, Moonpie—you left because you made the choice to. Why'd you leave? What happened?"

Sheldon found his exhaustion too potent to battle; he surrendered. "I miscalculated. My friends were not my friends; they were saboteurs and betrayers."

Meemaw frowned in consideration. "What does that mean?"

"They interfered with my work in an act of academic sabotage," he explained, voice lifeless. "My great triumph in the Arctic was a powerful lie. They tricked me, fed me falsified data, and ruined all my credibility with their tampering."

"Oh, Moonpie, I'm so sorry," Meemaw comforted, face worn with sadness. "How could they do that to you?"

"The only logical conclusion is that they never considered me their friend."

Meemaw placed her glass on the coffee table and wrung her hands. "No, I don't believe that. It can't be."

"But it is," Sheldon confirmed, wishing the hollow sensation would swallow him, ending the emptiness forever. "I returned home to reorient myself and put things in their places, which is what had led to my downfall. A friend pointed out my imbalance, which I now rectify."

"Friend?" Meemaw echoed, confused. "I thought your friends betrayed you."

Sheldon hesitated, aware of what interpretation Meemaw might take. "Her name is Penny—Penelope, technically. She is my only friend."

Meemaw blinked before a coy smile crossed her face that, unfortunately, reminded him of Missy. "Oh, she's your neighbor, right? Your mama was telling us about her after her visit. And Missy said she was pretty."

"That is irrelevant," he dismissed. "It was not her visual appeal that pointed me to the truth; it was not her visual appeal that made me see things as they are. It was her genius, for she is in possession of a staggering but subtle intelligence that not even my intellect can grasp. It baffles me."

"But you think there's a 'visual appeal'?"

Sheldon frowned. "Yes, but it is secondary to her strange, peculiar genius. I have considered it extensively and arrived at no rational explanation, which baffles me."

Meemaw's eyes twinkled as she took a sip from her glass of water. "But there's no 'rational explanation' for you, either. Who'd have thought your daddy and mama would make you? No one, least of all me. It looks like a pretty blonde can have a brain that even yours can't keep up with. It doesn't have to make sense."

"If something does not make sense, it is, thus, nonsense," he pointed out, weary. "Thus, all things must make sense, lest they be ridden by nonsense."

"The heart's different from the mind, Moonpie."

Sheldon stiffened. "This has nothing to do with the heart, Meemaw. The heart is a parasite existing within each of us that we must conquer and dominate forever if we are to achieve success."

Meemaw stared at him, silent for several moments. "Do you really believe that?"

"Of course."

"When did you start believing it?"

Sheldon blinked. "Since my birth. This has always been me."

Meemaw sighed. "You think your memory's good, but you can only remember what you saw, and we both know there was way more that you didn't see than saw. You've always been emotional, Moonpie."

A flinch spasmed through his body. "No. I am rational."

"You are, but you're emotional, too—and that's okay."

"No, it's not," he said slowly, spacing his words to bolster his control. "Logic is all there must be, lest you fall into despair and devastation."

Meemaw stared at him, eyes crinkling in sorrow. "Like you did when your daddy died?"

Sheldon jumped as if burned. "That has nothing to do with- "

"I think it's got everything to do with it," she interrupted. "We all think so. Are you really going to tell your meemaw that she's wrong?"

He twisted in his chair, uncomfortable. "You tell your moonpie that he is wrong."

Meemaw patted the spot next to her on the couch. "Come here. Sit with me."

Against his willing, he stood to his feet and sat in the offered spot on the couch. "I do not see the point."

"Moonpie, sometimes what's on the outside doesn't match what's on the inside. Your outside's always been fine, but your inside's been breaking slowly; you've been dying. All this logic's been your outside, but it's only been the shell for the inside, which is your heart. You can't hold onto it forever. Aren't you tired?"

Sheldon tensed. "My exhaustion is a result of my lack of sleep last night."

"But what's that a result of?"

His jaw clenched. "A singular instance."

Meemaw patted his hand. "I think you've been tired for a long time. You can start resting; you can relax and not hold yourself so tight and put together. It's okay. You can't keep going on like this because isn't what got you to this place in the first place you holding yourself together so tight?"

Sheldon's brows furrowed in irritated impotence. "I despise your argument but cannot refute it."

"Then stop trying to," Meemaw suggested. "Accept it. You're still human, Moonpie. It's okay to be human."

He sagged back against the cushions. "I do not know what to do. I feel empty. I have felt empty since… that day."

"And you have to work yourself out of it; you can't just avoid it like you've been doing for so long."

Sheldon shivered as he recalled Daddy's advice. "I have to fight it."

Meemaw's grip on his hand tightened. "No. You don't fight it; you accept it and work your way through it to get through the other side. You can't keep avoiding it; it's going to come no matter what. But you have the strength and will to get through it and find your way again. Just relax, Moonpie—relax. Stop holding yourself so tight."

He found his body begin to relax against his willing, following an overwhelming desire to surrender; he closed his eyes for a momentary reprieve, but the moment they closed, the weight slammed into him, keeping them closed. The exhaustion seeped over his senses in a delirious haze, distorting his awareness of everything around him.

Meemaw caressed his cheek briefly, passing over his beard hairs. "Go to sleep, Moonpie. Rest. You don't have to fight anymore."

It was the last sensation he registered.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Penny was on cloud nine—it had finally happened! After so long of waiting and dreaming, she had finally been offered a part in a local play, produced by a local house, that could open the door to bigger and better opportunities! For once, she went into her shift at the Cheesecake Factory with a real smile on her face rather than a performative one. Nothing could sour her mood, not even the reminder that Sheldon was gone and might not ever return. For the whole day, she felt giddy; nothing could bring her down from cloud nine.

Until she got back to her apartment and found Leonard packing up his things, boxes littered on their floor between their apartments.

She stared through the open door and saw him for the first time since he had sat in front of her door, drunk, and demanding to know if she had ratted him, Howard, and Raj out for their sabotage of Sheldon. And the only difference she could see was a fading bruise colored around his eye. Had he been punched? Who had punched him? It clearly wasn't Sheldon. Had Leonard had a falling out with Howard and/or Raj? Had the stress of losing their jobs caused them all to blame each other, resulting in a fight? But if there had been a big fight, why was there only one bruise marring Leonard's skin? She knew that Leonard wasn't the type of guy able to end a fight quickly, so why only one bruise? Why only one visible evidence of a punch?

Penny sidestepped several stacked boxes and knocked on the open door, standing in the doorway. "Want to explain this?"

Leonard glanced at her, face dark and miserable. "What does it look like?"

"It looks like you're moving."

"Winner," he said with heavy sarcasm. "How'd you guess?"

"Why?" she asked, trying to process the sight before her; it seemed impossible—but it was real, and she wasn't dreaming.

"Because there's nothing here for any of us," Leonard notified, voice stiff; his eyes were red, raw, and devastated. "We're pariahs now; we're blacklisted. Raj has to go back to India, and I'm going back home where the Hofstadter name still carries weight instead of distrust."

Penny swallowed, realizing the door was shutting firmly on an era in her life—and she would never get it back. "And Howard?"

Leonard carried a box filled with what looked like video games and stacked it with several other boxes near the door with a harsh jerk. "He's staying with his mom as far as I know. But he may move eventually to find work because he's not finding it here. CalTech's going to write us all letters of rejection and spread them as far as possible. Our reputations are ruined forever."

"I'm sorry it turned out this way," she whispered, pained.

"Are you?"

"Yes. I didn't want things to go this way."

"You wouldn't come with me if I asked, would you?" he asked with a derisive snort, glancing at her, bruise shining under the light.

Penny shook her head. "No. There's nothing to save now—maybe there never was."

"I didn't want things to be this way, either," Leonard said distantly, looking far away. "I think we could have been really good together."

She sighed. "You're thinking with your penis, not your head. We would have never been good together—that's the truth. And the truth is all that matters."

"Apparently," he muttered.

"What happens to the apartment?"

Leonard's face twisted. "I don't care what happens."

"This is Sheldon's apartment," she protested, feeling a sickening panic grip her spine—and heart. "If you give up the apartment, he's never going to come back!"

"His name is still on the lease- "

Penny shook her head, thinking rapidly. "But he already paid off his half of the rent, which means that, technically, he completed his term on the lease! The landlord could take Sheldon's name off if he wanted to because Sheldon didn't sign on for a renewal yet!"

Leonard shouldered past her brusquely into the floor's hallway. "I don't care."

She turned around and watched him heave one of the boxes outside into his arms. "Are you taking everything?"

"Keep the couch," Leonard said, voice soft; there was a tension in his body, reflected on his face. "Put it in your apartment if you want until he comes back—I don't care. He used it more than I ever did. When he comes back, tell him I'm sorry."

Penny squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to control her rising emotions. Why did so much have to go wrong? "Tell him yourself," she retorted with a tight smile. "You know his number."

Leonard looked away, uncomfortable. "I'm not going to be able to take everything with me. Once I'm gone, you can take it or sell it or dump it—it doesn't matter to me."

She nodded. "Okay. Will I see you before you leave?"

"Of course," he assured, but she didn't know whether to believe him.

Penny said nothing as he hiked down the stairs with the box in his arms, watching him vanish past the corner, and hearing his fading grunts and steps. She looked back inside Leonard's apartment, trying to figure out a way for everything to work out somehow, but she couldn't think of anything at the moment. She swallowed and avoided the other boxes and entered her apartment, debating if she should let Sheldon know that Leonard was moving, but she feared if she let him know, he'd run ever farther, feeling pressured to return. But what if he would want to know? What if it would actually make him want to return? But he should only return when he was ready, and she didn't want to pressure him, even though she wanted him to return.

She elected to wait, unsure if it was the right decision.

XxXxXxXxXxX

His resistance had finally crumbled. He had almost ground his teeth to dust, but he swallowed his pride and asked for help, for there was someone he had to see, someone he had been avoiding.

He was going to see Gig again.

"He doesn't look like you remember," Missy warned as she drove him to Gig's town, which was approximately three and a half hours away. "He's bigger now."

Sheldon stared out the window, watching the scenery pass in vivid colors. "Big like Daddy?"

"He's built like him, but he's not that big."

"Does he still look like him?"

Missy sighed. "Even more now."

"Will he speak only about the Cowboys?"

"He only talks about the Cowboys with you 'cause that's what you're used to. He can surprise you."

Sheldon's face twisted. "Unlikely. I have already simulated seventeen different conversations based on my previous experience with him. The only conclusion is that he will ramble about the Cowboys."

Missy snorted. "Seems to me like you're missin' a lot of data there, smartass. The only thing you know is your old experience with him, not your new one."

"By analyzing the old experience, I can predict the new one."

"But you're not the same Shelly, are you?" Missy challenged. "That screws the data all up. You're assumin' that you're still the same Shelly and that he's the same Gig. Stop bein' a dumbass."

Sheldon huffed. "I am not a dumbass."

"You're the biggest dumbass I've ever met, and that's including Gig."

Outrage swept through him. "False," he notified, voice rising. "Since your statement is ludicrous and extrapolates based on your own experience, along with your knowledge of what makes someone a 'dumbass,' you yourself are a dumbass."

Missy shook her head with a slight smile. "Maybe, but that don't make my statement any less true then because you said I had knowledge of what makes someone a dumbass, right? Doesn't that mean I know what I'm talkin' about when it comes to dumbasses?"

Sheldon realized his error and grit his teeth. "I am not a dumbass."

"No, but you are bein' one."

"You are one with your infernal insistence on intruding on my privacy."

Silence.

"I'm sorry I pushed you to talk about Daddy," Missy said with a deep sigh. "I shouldn't have done that. I just got frustrated 'cause you haven't said anythin'."

Sheldon looked back out the window, but instead of seeing the scenery blurring past, he saw the lake and Daddy clutching his chest. "There is a reason I never discussed it," he said, hollow.

Missy jerked, surprised, glancing at him before she looked back to the road. "We've always known that, Shelly. We know it was horrible just based on what you became after that day. You've never been the same. But we can help you. It helps to talk about things. It sucks, but it helps. And you have the biggest mouth; you gotta be dyin' to tell us."

He flinched as Daddy's red, dying face flashed in his mind. "No dying."

"Sorry," she whispered.

The drive continued in a long, extended silence until they reached Gig's town. It was another small town, but it was noticeably more successful and economically vibrant than back home. There were also nicer cars and trucks, newer made than dozens of years old, passing them on the drive. The roads were smoother and possessed more signs and symptoms of dedicated maintenance.

It was a healthy town.

"Here we are," Missy said as she pulled into a parking lot in front of a store and parked, shutting the car off. "He knows we're comin', so he won't be too surprised."

Sheldon nodded but said nothing as he exited the car and followed her into the store, which was clean and orderly—he approved. Missy seemed to know where she was going, weaving past aisles and customers and heading into the back of the store, like she was following an emanating beacon. They reached a door that was marked with 'Employees Only,' which Missy pulled open without hesitation and stepped inside, but Sheldon stopped.

"This is for employees only," he pointed out, confused. "We are not employees."

Missy rolled her eyes. "We have an in with the owner. Come on."

Sheldon begrudgingly followed her inside past a break room, past a corner, and he paused when he saw the outline of a broad man inside an office. He inhaled sharply when Gig—it was Gig!—turned around, speaking on the phone, cord extending perilously out as he gestured with his hands, for it was the first time he had seen him in so long. Gig resembled Daddy deeply, but it was actually less than he had prepared himself for, which relieved him powerfully.

"You alright?" Missy asked, pausing next to him.

However, before he could respond, Gig spotted him through the open door, eyes widening before he pointed and clapped. "Hey! Look at you! There's my baby brother!" He grinned and leaned into the phone as Sheldon followed Missy into what could only be Gig's office. "Sorry, Bobby- well, actually I ain't sorry, but I gotta role. We'll finish this up tomorrow or somethin'. Yeah, my brother just popped in. I've been waitin' for his slow ass to get here for fifteen years. Alright, thanks."

After Gig hung up, Sheldon frowned as Missy waved her arms in a flourish at him. "As promised—here's Shelly."

Gig's eyes roamed him, amazed. "Well, I'll be a son of bitch—look at you! And you got a beard and everythin'! It looks good. Why'd you grow it?"

Sheldon blinked. "It is a physical manifestation of my pursuit of discovery toward enlightenment. Rather than concealing the revolution in my mind, I have physical evidence of my journey. It is also the sign and symbol of my procured wisdom, for I have become most wise."

Gig glanced at Missy before shaking his head. "Uh-huh. Well, I guess I gotta grow one, too—'cause I'm way wiser than you. Mine should be reachin' my feet—or my dick, at least."

Missy rolled her eyes. "Your dick's why you aren't wise. Linda's a good start, but let's see if you can keep her."

"I guarantee I can," Gig said with a wink. "My dick may not be wise, but it's never been the problem in any of my relationships."

"It's the problem in our relationship," Missy drawled with a smirk. "Because you're clearly a dick."

Gig smirked and turned to him. "You ain't gonna defend me, Shelly? Not even after I said you got a good beard?"

Sheldon's head tilted. "The only way a penis and beard correlate is that the penis is attached to the scrotum, which houses the testicles, the beginning source of a man's ability to grow a beard."

"Charmin'," Missy drawled.

An employee peeked into the room. "Hey, Gig, my break's over. I'm heading back out."

"Great," Gig replied, winking at his employee. "This is my brother right here—can't you tell?"

She frowned, observed them for several moments, before shaking her head. "No."

"Exactly," Gig assured. "'Cause Shelly here got all the hot brains while I got the hot bod."

"The only one who thinks that is Linda."

Gig laughed and waved her off. "You just gotta get out more."

"And I am," the employee assured. "I'm going right back out there."

"See you later."

Missy smiled at the employee as she left before turning to Gig. "You ready? Or do we have to wait on you?"

Gig smirked and grabbed his keys from the desk and ushered them out of the room with a half-hearted flourish of his hands and locked the door to his office. "Yeah, yeah—I gotta show Shelly around here. Gotta make sure he doesn't get lost in his own shadow."

Sheldon frowned as he followed Gig past the break room and into the store. "I could never get lost in my shadow."

"If anyone could do it, it'd be you."

Missy snorted. "Or he'd somehow make it so he doesn't have a shadow."

"That's a freaky thought." Gig slung an arm around his shoulder, and Sheldon lacked the energy to throw it off as they exited the store. "C'mon—I'll show you the house. Linda's out visitin' her family this week, so it'll just be us."

Sheldon glanced back at the store, uncertain. "But your job- "

"Shelly, I make my own schedule," Gig dismissed. "I'm the boss—I can do whatever the hell I want. That means I'm takin' the day off early just to spend time with you. That should make your head grow."

Missy smirked. "I don't think his shoulders could support an even bigger head. It's big enough as it is."

Gig chuckled and dragged Sheldon along out of the store. "If I didn't know you, I'd say you were lootin' my store and hidin' your loot in your big head."

Sheldon's jaw clenched and managed to free himself from Gig's arm as he adjusted his clothes, smoothing the wrinkles. "That is impossible."

"Only to a blind man."

"A blind man cannot- "

Gig glanced at him with a lamentful sigh. "It's a figure of speech, Shelly. Weren't you tellin' me you were gettin' better at sarcasm?"

Sheldon sniffed. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit that appeals to the most common denominator in society—the mediocre."

"But now that you're understandin' it, don't that mean you're mediocre, too?"

Missy laughed while Sheldon sputtered in outrage. "No. That is absurd!"

Gig elbowed him. "That was sarcasm."

Sheldon deflated. "Oh."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Raj stared at the many boxes, which houses not only his belongings but his dreams. His dreams were gone, ousted from the permanent presence in his life. And there was no one he could blame but himself—he did blame himself. He made the decision to stand by and participate; he made the decision to go along and keep his head down, avoiding confrontation; he made the decision to fall mute when talk of sabotage hissed in the air; he made the decision to nod along and voice his own displeasures, his own bitterness at the mediocre fate allotted to him while a once-in-a-generation genius bent the world to his will; he made the decision to fall into a pattern in which he couldn't escape; he made the decision to value conformance rather than rebellion, knowing what he—what he, Howard, and Leonard—was doing was wrong but not wanting to rock the boat with the others; and he made the decision to look into Sheldon's eyes and lie to him, feeding him falsified data.

What kind of friend sabotaged his friend? What kind of friend let cruel and snide remarks be made about his friend without defending him?

He had never been a friend in his life; his only experience with it was the distortion of it, not the real, genuine thing.

He was paying the price for it.

Howard shuffled over, face mournful; it matched the withering Raj's heart endured. "Is that the last of it?"

Raj swallowed. "Yeah," he croaked, voice breaking. It was finally time. He had prepared himself for it, imagining all the pain and emotion—but it was different to live it. He was leaving his life to return home, a place he didn't want to go but was the only place for him because of the stupid decisions he made. It was his fault. Nothing was ever going to be the same because he did it to himself. "If I'm forgetting anything, it's my heart."

"Me too," Howard whispered. "I'll come out and visit you some time."

"You shouldn't. You wouldn't last a day in India. I'm barely going to survive."

"We'll do video calls," Howard promised, face twisting in despairing hope. "Every day, got it? This isn't the end."

Raj didn't have the strength to prevent his slump. "Yes, it is. We made it our end."

"Sheldon did it- "

"We did it, Howard," he interrupted, solemn. "It was us. And we've been punished for our crime. We all messed up at the Arctic; none of us are immune. Sheldon messed up by inviting us and being a tyrant, but we messed up by sabotaging the entire experiment and humiliating his intellectual standing."

Howard tapped his shoe against one of the boxes, bitter. "But he messed up first."

Raj was long removed from the bitterness; he just felt worn and tired, instead. "We messed up last. And we're still messing up because none of us have called and apologized to him."

He had debated texting Sheldon, but he lacked the courage necessary for such a monumental act. He had typed out several messages, but he could never send them, too doubtful and scared. The memory of Sheldon's betrayed, hollowed face was too fresh.

He was a coward.

"He's never going to apologize to us," Howard muttered, scorn flashing over his face.

"Our crime is worse, and you know it," Raj pointed out, shrugging his shoulders. "We all know it. Sheldon scratched us while we decapitated him."

"We didn't deserve to be fired!"

Raj swallowed and looked down at his feet. "Maybe."

Howard shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'll ship all your stuff to you. It might take a while, but I'll get it to you—or my mom will."

Recognizing the change in subject, he nodded. "Thanks. I'll know if you take one of my comic books—I'll count."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Raj hugged Howard, for time was short; he, unfortunately, had a flight to catch. "Goodbye."

Howard squeezed before letting go with a tight smile. "Good luck with your parents."

"Good luck with your mom."

Emotions passed over Howard's face as he swallowed. "Bye, Raj."

Raj's exhaled roughly and nodded before he stepped back into the taxi, which had been idle in the street, waiting for him.

He had to meet his fate.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Gig and Missy chatted incessantly while they drove—Gig's truck was in the shop, and he had been having one of his employees pick him up each morning and drive him home—in which the topics flowed freely and endlessly. Sheldon simply listened but said nothing, trying to adapt to being around Gig again. It was a lot easier than he thought, which surprised him. When they reached Gig's house, Gig immediately dragged him to the backyard area, where he plucked a worn football from a cracked basket.

"I've been dyin' to show you this. Remember when we were kids, and you said it was impossible for me to throw the football farther than Daddy ever could."

Sheldon frowned, remembering the entire conversation effortlessly. "Yes. However, I said it was impossible for you then to throw the football farther than Daddy ever could. It is certainly possible now that you have reached maturation."

Gig blinked. "Oh. That makes sense. Still, watch this."

Missy raised a brow. "I'm not bein' your receiver."

"No, that tree down there's my receiver," Gig boasted, pointing at the tree approximately forty to forty-five yards in the distance. "I'll hit it—watch."

Sheldon remembered Gig's horrible form when they were children. "Unlikely."

"How much you wanna bet?"

"I do not gamble."

Gig rolled his eyes. "It's not gamblin'. How about this? If I don't hit the tree, I'll swear off talkin' about the Cowboys with you for a year; if I do hit the tree, you have to tell us why you came home."

Sheldon scoffed. "Your subtlety leaves much to be desired."

Gig shrugged and shared a glance with Missy. "Thought you'd appreciate somethin' direct. What's it gonna be, Shelly? You gonna keep keepin' more secrets than the secrets of the universe in your head?"

Against his willing, he found a powerful instinct within him that was ready to confess. Perhaps it was his conversation with Meemaw in which he had already discussed the tragedy that befell him; perhaps it was his ceaseless exhaustion, born atop his stubborn emptiness; perhaps it was the powerful longing to put things in their places. But something was different; he felt ready.

His resistance no longer resisted.

"Very well," he agreed, nodding stiffly.

Gig whistled and rotated his arm, stretching it, several times, preparing it for the physical undertaking to which it was to be subjected. He inhaled roughly, rotated his body to a proper position, and took off in a rhythmic shuffle of two steps before he heaved the football in an impressive launch. The ball sailed through the air in a well-executed spiral, reaching its apex before it descended—and connected against the tree in the distance.

Sheldon was surprised when he felt no fear or panic at losing the bet, which meant he, as a man of honor, would have to confess of the tragedy that befell him. He was unsure what it meant. "A bet is a bet," he recited, echoing Daddy's words that were said many times.

Gig's grin flashed before he gestured for them to follow him. "C'mon. I gotta get the ball before some damn coyote takes it or somethin'."

"Wouldn't be too bad a loss," Missy said. "You could use a new football."

"I know this one's close to retirin', but I like to wear it out all the way before I get a new one. It's got a few more miles on it. Somethin' about the feel of worn leather makes it all worth it. Makes me feel like I accomplished somethin'."

"Or you're just too cheap to buy a new one."

Gig held up a finger as the tree approached. "Business is goin' good. I can afford a football field of footballs, but it's about findin' the right one, and the right one's one that's all worn and used—somethin' that has some years and experience on it, so you can rely on it.'

Sheldon frowned. "A worn football might not spiral as well as a new football due to the reduced aerodynamics and- "

"I know Daddy said there's nothin' prettier than a perfect spiral, but there is something prettier—a touchdown. You ain't ever gettin' a touchdown with a brand-new ball; you're gettin' one with a beat up, seen-some-shit ball. You can't always go for the new stuff. Go for the classics 'cause at least you know the classics are reliable and ain't gonna fuck you over."

Missy picked up the football from where it lied next to the tree. "Maybe that's why Shelly fixed up Daddy's truck."

Gig jerked and glanced at him, eyebrows rising in intrigued astonishment. "Really? You got that thing runnin'?"

Sheldon felt uncomfortable. "Yes."

"You take it for a spin yet?"

"No."

Gig sighed. "Still ain't drivin', huh."

He controlled the flinch that arose. "Affirmative."

Missy threw the football at Gig. "Engine sounds good—even better than it used to. Shelly should be a mechanic."

"I am a physicist," Sheldon corrected. "I look to the truth."

Gig motioned Missy and Sheldon away with his hands, which, while Missy did it easily, Sheldon reluctantly backed up, anticipating what would happen. As expected, Gig threw the football ball at Missy, who caught it and threw it back.

Gig laughed as he caught the football. "Missy, you throw like a girl!"

Missy rolled her eyes and threw the football back. "That's 'cause I am a girl, shit-for-brains!"

"When you have a son, make sure you bring him to me, 'cause I'll teach him how to really throw the football."

"Or his daddy will."

"Please," Gig scoffed and patted the football with his hand for emphasis. "I'm better than any guy you could hitch your wagon to."

"Is that what Linda says?"

"It's what she should be sayin'," Gig defended and turned to Sheldon and leaned back, body twisting as he threw the football, releasing it from his grasp.

Sheldon caught the football on instinct, despite having no yearning to do so; indeed, Gig was correct at how worn the football felt between his hands. It had seen much action in the past but it neared the end of its lifespan. Knowing Gig, he would probably give it to a coyote to chew on or something—or use it as target practice for his rifle.

"What are you waitin' for?" Missy asked, spreading her arms in invitation. "Throw it."

"I am disinclined," he replied, holding the football between his hands.

"C'mon, throw the ball," Gig demanded, rolling his eyes. "I know you know how to throw. Me and Daddy taught you. Start throwin' it like you mean it. You know the mechanics- "

Sheldon threw the football back in a crisp spiral, which Gig caught in between clapping hands.

"There you go!" Gig praised. "Daddy would love that one."

"He loved many things," Sheldon replied distantly, trying but failing not to think of that day at the lake.

Missy caught Gig's pass before throwing it to him, to which he responded in kind; thus began a little game, throwing the football to each other. They continued throwing for a while, even with Gig pretending to run football routes and exaggerate his catches to make them look as 'awesome' as possible with Missy ruling if it was a viable catch or not. According to Gig, Missy was 'fucking biased' against him, ruling unfavorably too often for his liking. Sheldon had little reason to interfere in the squabbles; though he acted as quarterback, which was the most important position in football, it did not mean he had to take a leadership position.

He had been told often that he was not a good leader. The Arctic was the foremost evidence of it.

"Since you love the truth so much, what brought you here, Shelly?" Gig asked as he picked himself up from where he had made a diving catch, narrowly avoiding the tree trunk; Missy had generously ruled it an authentic catch. "I know it wasn't 'cause you missed us. Missy told me you ain't been talkin' about it."

Sheldon glared at Missy, who shrugged, unabashed. "Figured I should prepare him. Wasn't sure how you were gonna be actin'."

He caught Gig's pass and cradled the football between his hands, fingers crushing over the worn leather. "There was little left for me in California, though that may change."

The Betrayers had been fired after all, according to Penny.

Gig motioned for the football, and Sheldon threw it back. "What happened?" Gig asked, catching the ball. "Why'd you come home? What wasn't there anythin' left for you?"

"Shelly, we want to help you," Missy said, catching Gig's pass; her eyes were rooted on him. "We can help you."

Gig nodded. "Linda says I'm not a good listener, but that's hogwash. I'm the best damn listener I know."

Sheldon caught Missy's pass with a sigh, surrendering; he was tired. "My friends betrayed me, sabotaged my work, and debased my grand triumph. They humiliated me on the scientific, academic level. All there is left for me is my emptiness and pursuit to put things in their places."

Missy's face flushed with ire. "They those same ones you were pimpin' me out to?"

Gig's eyes narrowed. "What now?"

Sheldon bowed his head, feeling a strange pulse of shame ricochet through him. "Yes. I asked them to accompany me on my grand triumph, believing they were as devoted, diligent, and motivated as myself. I miscalculated, for they only held such traits when it came to ruin me. The only conclusion is that they never considered me their friend."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Shelly," Gig consoled, face far away, but there was no surprise. "Did you beat their asses?"

"I terminated our connections," he notified, voice stiff. "I lacked the violence necessary to inflict damage on them; I was too… hurt."

Missy approached and placed a kind hand on his arm, which he had been unaware was trembling until she stopped its rhythm; her face stretched in sad sympathy. "I'm so sorry. Makes me wish I punched them all last time."

Sheldon swallowed, gripping the football tighter. "I thought I possessed a clear understanding; I anticipated many conclusions to the expedition, but I failed to anticipate the actual conclusion. I had no understanding, which somehow means all my previous understandings were the wrong understandings, for they failed to prepare me for this. The Universe was silent as this happened when it should be weeping and furious at once."

"The great irony surrounding you, Shelly, is that you can observe the world all you want, but you can't be in it, can you?" Gig pointed out, voice soft. "It's time for you to start bein' part of it. You can't keep distractin' yourself. You're just like me and Daddy, you know that? You've always distracted yourself, put your mind onto something. Daddy always found distractions at the bottom of a beer bottle while I did it chasin' girls and sleeping with as many as I could, and you did it by lookin' to the universe, right? But at the end of the day, it doesn't do anythin'; it doesn't change anythin'. It can work for a long time, but there's always that damned point when it doesn't. It sounds to me like you hit that point."

"I crashed into it," he mumbled.

"That's how it goes," Missy said with a sad smile. "How you've been goin' was never gonna help. This was always gonna happen at some point or another."

Gig nodded. "You gotta look around and see the world—you gotta see the people around you in the world. And you know what? You gotta join them. All you do is look straight ahead, never turning your head once, never changing your gaze—you're always straight. But what are you missin' when you only look straight ahead? Look at me now." Sheldon followed Gig's order and looked directly at him. "I'm in your line of sight, and you're starin' right at me. But am I the only thing here?"

Sheldon blinked. "Of course not," he dismissed. "Missy is here; there is that tree and all the others in the distance- "

"Then why not look at those other things?" Missy challenged kindly. "You've always said you're lookin' for the world's mysteries, but you've never looked at the world around us your entire life. You've just been starin' straight ahead like your neck can't turn at all; you've been both stubborn and blind."

Gig clapped him on the shoulder, but it was much less rough than he remembered. "How much of Life have you been missin'? Life's got 360 degrees, to see the world around you, but you've fucked yourself over by only seein' a small fraction—maybe 40 degrees or somethin'—because you just keep starin' straight, not turnin' to see the world around you, the same world you've always been livin' in. All this right now, the way you've been goin', it doesn't do anythin' for you."

Sheldon rebelled instinctively. "False. My pursuits are noble and just- "

Missy sighed. "Then why are you here instead of still goin' after those 'noble' and 'just' pursuits of yours? You can't get outta this, Shelly. Look, if those 'noble' and 'just' pursuits are actually what you claim they are, you should be able to rely on them like they're your best friend, but you can't. That's why you're here. Doin' all that wasn't doin' it for you, which you knew, deep down."

A shudder rippled through him. "I feel empty, and no matter what I do, the emptiness persistent; it grows and deepens."

"You've been feelin' it since Daddy died, right?" Missy asked.

Sheldon knew his silence alerted them of the answer. "I feel empty," he repeated, unable to admit it. "I do not know what to do about it."

Gig laughed, though there was something strange in it. "That's 'cause you got some dogshit structure, Shelly. Look at you—you're the worst skyscraper I've ever seen. When the wind hits a skyscraper, it bends a little bit; it sways, you know. It doesn't just push back or hold itself so tightly it can't do anythin', which is what you've been doin'. It goes with the flow a little bit; it's flexible. Not flexible like a hot girl, no, but it's still flexible. But you ain't flexible at all. You've been holdin' yourself so tightly that you can't even breathe; you're destroyin' yourself. And sooner or later, you're gonna come crashin' down. Maybe you already crashed; maybe this is your crash. But that's how you put yourself together again. Daddy always said you could be anything, but you sure-as-shit couldn't be an architect based on this. What kind of logic is that, huh? That's some dogshit logic, and I'll say that right in your face."

"We are already face-to-face."

"Then I'll scream it in your ear," Gig said. "You gotta learn to be flexible. I know you think you can bend the world to your will and everythin'—you been tryin' ever since I've known you. But you can't. It's time to be one of us, Shelly—come down from this askin'-for-death skyscraper you built. You can't keep livin' up there forever—because that ain't livin'. It's just survivin', and survivin' ain't worth anythin' without livin'. 'Cause you've been survivin' ever since Daddy died that day. When you gonna start livin' with the rest of us?"

Sheldon backed away, putting space between them to mitigate the rising panic and pressure starting to suffocate him. "Logic is all there is- "

"But what you're doin' isn't logical, Shelly," Missy interrupted, holding her arms out in preparation for something. "I know you think it is, but it's not. It would be logical if you were like Spock like you've always wanted, but you're not like Spock—and you're not like Superman, either."

Gig's face flashed with enlightened welcoming. "You're one of us, Shelly—you're human, which means you ain't always gonna be logical. Case in point—'cause this ain't logical."

"It is what I needed," Sheldon hissed, gripping the football so tightly he felt surprised that it did not explode between his hands—but as Missy observed, he was not Superman, unfortunately.

Missy's smile was comforting somehow. "But it's not what you need anymore, right? 'Cause you realized what you've been doin' hasn't helped you; it's not enough to help you anymore. You reached the point when you needed somethin' more."

"You gotta get back to how you used to be," Gig encouraged; his smile was brighter and stronger. "You remember us all runnin' around? I miss that kid who used to mouth off to everyone he ran into; I miss that kid who used to fear nothin', not even his older, stronger, and much better-lookin' brother. Now look at you, Shelly—you fear everythin'. You're scared of your own shadow. You've always been goin' off about studyin' Life and understandin' the universe's mysteries, but the only way to understand 'em is to live 'em—you gotta live your life and not be afraid. Where's that kid who would pull pranks? You remember that Cowboys prank?"

Missy rolled her eyes while Sheldon nodded. "I tricked you into thinking they were relocating."

Gig shook his head. "Yep. I cried my eyes out. It was the saddest thing I ever heard; it broke my heart—and it broke Daddy's heart, too. That was the only time I ever seen him cry. Well, that, and Pop-Pop's funeral."

"Daddy cried when he died," Sheldon said, not knowing why he confessed it, why he felt the instinct to keep talking.

Missy placed a hand over her mouth while Gig swallowed, face flickering. "He was in pain?"

"No, he was at peace," he whispered, seeing it in his mind as clear as he always had—or clearer since his memories were much fresher since returning home. "We sat in the boat in the middle of the lake. He looked around across the lake, into the sky, at the sunlight, and then he looked up at me. I was in hysterics trying to help him; I was above him, reaching down, and he smiled at me. Tears fell out of his eyes, and he tried to talk but struggled extensively. He was holding onto something metaphysical, trying to stay conscious, and he said my name—'Sheldon.' It was a croak hanging in the air." His chest heaved with emotion, voice beginning to break. "I told him I would get help, but he reached up with his quivering hand and patted my cheek, rubbing briefly with his thumb. He stared at me. His eyes were bright. He tried to communicate something, and I did not know what—I still do not know. He pulled me down with his hand until I was pressed against him; he hugged me with weak insistence. I embraced him as hard as I could, terrified and horrified. Even when his arms fell away, and his chest stopped its rhythm, I held on."

"Oh, Shelly," Missy said, voice almost a whimper as she embraced him from the side, resting her head on his shoulder; the football slipped from his numb fingers, bounced off his shin, and tumbled away as he gripped her back, trying to replace the memory of his last hug with Daddy with Missy's hug—but it would not work.

Sheldon sagged, tears misting in his eyes, and there was no logic strong enough to disperse them; they began to thicken and fall. "I held his body, holding onto the warmth—but the warmth died like he did. I screamed for help, but only the birds heard my call—and they flew away. I was alone in the middle of the lake with Daddy. I could not do anything; I was paralyzed, equally as unmoving as Daddy. I held onto him for hours, feeling as his body became cold and stiff. I tried to stop it, tried to warm him with my body, tried to deduce all possible calculations to bring him back, but I failed. He was dead. Once the sun started to set, I had to steer the boat back to the shore, which I had never done before. I went in circles for an hour trying to understand while my mind shattered. By the time I figured it out, I could barely see due to night's darkness. And I had to pull Daddy's body, which was heavy and unforgiving, out of the boat and into the truck when I reached the shore. Then I had to drive the truck with him in it, but it was not him who was there with me; it was an empty vessel, and I have felt empty ever since. That was the last time I drove, refusing to ever do it again. It was in the dead of night as I drove, and I kept looking over to his body, hoping for a miracle, but his face was expressionless and eyes closed; his chest, frozen. I saw deer dart across the road as I drove. I almost hit several of them. But I watched them able to run off when death was all around them, and I wished I could do the same; I wished I could run, but I could not."

A long silence fell over them as the wind rustled its presence until it was pierced.

"But you been runnin' ever since after Daddy's funeral," Gig whispered while Missy wiped tears from her eyes. "This is the first time I've seen you face-to-face in half your life. You never came back until now."

Missy rubbed his shoulder with a ragged sigh. "When you left all those years ago, Shelly, it was 'cause you couldn't bear puttin' Daddy to rest, but I think you came back 'cause you can handle it now. You're ready to put him to rest—ready to let him go and accept that you had to accept it."

Sheldon swallowed and looked for his logic, but it was nowhere to be found; he felt laid bare, extended beyond his structured parameters. "He was beside himself with excitement the night before when I agreed to accompany him. I surprised myself with the enjoyment I experienced fishing with him. There was a simple but profound pleasure."

"Daddy told me he never found God while in church," Gig said with a deep but mournful fondness. "He said he found God while out there fishin'. Maybe it was like that for you."

"Do not be absurd," Sheldon dismissed.

"What if you're the one bein' absurd?"

"Preposterous."

Gig tilted his head. "How do you know? Those friends of yours fucked you over, and you couldn't see it. You had no idea it was comin', right? You didn't know. You don't know as much as you think."

"That is different- "

"Something tells me there were signs, Shelly, but you didn't see them. Doesn't that make you absurd since you couldn't see what was right in front of you? And I bet it was right in front of you; I bet those friends of yours ain't amazin' actors or anythin'. You've never been able to see what's right in front of you, Shelly. Actually—I take that back. You see what's right in front of you, but that's it. You don't see anything that's around you. And I bet those friends of yours never showed signs right in front of you; I bet they showed signs when they were around you, outside your strait-laced line of sight. But now you're ready to get out of that strait-laced bullshit. You're ready to move on and start livin' instead of just survivin'."

Sheldon looked down at his feet. "I'm sorry I was with Daddy when he died; I'm sorry it was only me; I'm sorry I spent his final hours with him; and I'm sorry I never told you what happened, producing a painful void in your understanding. I'm sorry."

For the first time in his life, he meant his apology.

Missy hugged him, and he surprised himself by hugging her back. "I was never mad at you. Well, I was for a while 'cause you wouldn't tell us anythin', but I was never angry that you were with Daddy durin' his last day."

Gig nodded and slapped his shoulder, hand sliding up until it rested in his hair; he patted gently but warmly. "There's nothin' to apologize for, Shelly—but thanks. I'm glad you were with him. And I think Daddy was happy you were with him. Maybe it was the best day of his life—'cause he got one more day with you when he might not have. Out of all the days of your life, you just happened to choose that day to go fishin' with him. He always asked you, but it was that day you said 'yes.' No, there was somethin' more goin' on. It was meant to be; it was meant to go down like it did. If you weren't there, Daddy would have died alone, layin' in that boat for who-knows how long. Maybe the birds would've gotten to him if you weren't there to scare 'em away."

Sheldon shuddered as something tight erupted through him, like a valve bursting; his strength left him, and he collapsed to his knees, uncaring of the dirt, soil, and possible pathogens near him. He simply sat there, unable to stop the tears spilling down his cheeks and into his beard, deprived of utterance due to the overwhelming emotion flooding him. Gig and Missy sat down next to him, and for the first time in a long time, he yearned for human contact—for human touch and its restorative, indescribable powers.

"I'm glad he wasn't in pain," Gig croaked, voice breaking, and Sheldon leaned his head on Gig's shoulder and closed his eyes.

They sat there in silence—in remembrance.

XxXxXxXxXxX

After ordering a pizza to eat, Missy went to bed early, citing exhaustion, but Gig dragged Sheldon out the door, declaring they were going to the bar.

When they arrived at the bar, Gig was an obvious recurring customer with his first-name basis with the bartender. "Charlie, this is my baby brother, Shelly—the genius I was tellin' you about. Shelly, this is Charlie the Bartender."

Charlie the Bartender nodded in greeting at Sheldon, eyeing him briefly. "Don't see a resemblance."

"I have often wondered the same," Sheldon assured in reply.

"It's there somewhere," Gig assured with a laugh and slapped Sheldon on the back, gesturing for him to sit down on the stool, which he did. "You know what I like. Bring Shelly one, too."

Gig plopped down on a stool next to him as Charlie the Bartender poured alcohol—what brand or type, Sheldon failed to deduce as it was too dark, and the bottle was twisted away—into small glasses.

"C'mon, Charlie," Gig said, rolling his eyes at how full his glass was—or 'empty.' "You know me—I'm thirstier than that. Shelly's is fine, but what do you take me for, a fuckin' virgin?"

Charlie the Bartender dutifully filled Gig's glass to the brim, to which Gig nodded in approval while Sheldon hesitantly grabbed his glass and eyed the copper liquid. "I am a virgin, Gig."

"In more ways than one, right?"

"Affirmative. This small glass- "

"It's a shot glass. We're doin' shots now."

Sheldon sniffed the alcohol, which catapulted him back to when he was a child with Daddy still alive. "I am under the impression that it burns."

Gig laughed. "It sure-as-shit does! That's what makes it worth it. C'mon—do it with me. I'm makin' you a man tonight." He patted him on the shoulder and slid his brimmed shot forward, gripped it by his thumb and index finger. "Follow me, Shelly—do what I do."

His own thumb and index finger gripped the shot glass, mimicking Gig's movement, and as Gig whipped his shot glass up into the air, miraculously preventing any spillage, Sheldon followed and brought it to his lips and tipped it back.

It certainly did burn.

Gig smacked his lips together as he pulled the shot glass away. "That's the stuff. You know what?"

"What?" Sheldon asked, wiping his mouth from some of the spillage and blinking his eyes rapidly to clear the instinctive mist; he had been unprepared for the alcohol's strong impact.

"Daddy's watchin' us right now," Gig said, slinging his arm around Sheldon's shoulder. "I don't know where he is, but I know he's watchin'; I know he sees us. And I know that he's damned proud."

Sheldon felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the alcohol spread through him in an intoxicating flush. "Good."

Gig patted his shoulder. "But you know what'd make him even prouder?"

"What?"

"Havin' another one!" he hollered and smacked the bar. "Charlie, give us another round!"

Charlie the Bartender dutifully filled their shot glasses again, and Sheldon had much more success with the next round, though he grimaced as it went down his throat; he had much adaptation to undergo, it seemed.

"Where's Linda?" Charlie the Bartender asked Gig as he refilled the shot glasses again. "Back home?"

"Nah, she's visitin' her family," Gig replied and downed his next shot with an ease that was impressive and gasped in pleasure before cracking his neck. "Alright, that's it—only beers from now on. Hit us up, Charlie; bring us two—you know which ones."

Sheldon shuddered as his last shot went down, and he was beginning to feel the visceral impact of the alcohol; he gripped the lip of the bar to steady himself. "I want Daddy's beer," he said, pointing at Gig, who was starting to duplicate himself through what appeared to be a non-mitosis-related procedure—it was against Nature!

Gig winked. "What do you think I always get?"

"Excellent."

Charlie the Bartender returned with two beer bottles while Gig elbowed him and swiveled on his stool; he immediately reached over and steadied him when he almost fell off his stool. "Shit, Shelly, you really are a virgin."

Sheldon grabbed his beer bottle and was rewarded by its familiar smell; it truly was Daddy's beer. He took a tentative sip and was flung back in memory to when he had shared a beer with Daddy on the lake that day. He took a longer sip, knowing it was irrational and foolish, but he felt closer to Daddy because of it. "Not a virgin anymore," he replied. "This alcohol is my prostitute, awakening me to desire."

Gig rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Nah, I think you already know desire; you've always known it. C'mon—you can't tell me your eye ain't been caught by some sweet thing. Even Superman's got Lois Lane, right? What about you? You find a girl you're sweet on?"

Images—memories—of Penny flashed through his mind, and Sheldon elected for honesty; the alcohol certainly helped him be honest. "The only friend—the only true friend—I have ever had is Penny, my neighbor."

"She pretty?"

Sheldon nodded. "She is most comely. She is visually appealing; her attributes are memorable. However, her physical beauty, while impressive, is little when compared to her baffling genius. She is a revolution—the revolution." He took another sip of his beer, amazed as he conceptualized her impact on his life. For some strange reason, it seemed like the alcohol helped him make new connections. "She resembles Newton's apple that fell and produced remarkable discoveries and insights that changed the world. She invaded my life and made me see how things are, producing remarkable discoveries and insights that changed my world. When she invaded, I prepared for desolation, but she improved my life somehow. The best two years of my life since Daddy died have been with her in my life. I never anticipated it."

Gig chuckled and pulled his own beer bottle from his lips. "That's how it goes. You can't anticipate everythin', 'specially the effect a woman can have on you. It sounds like this Penny of yours is a good woman."

"She understands me," he replied, blinking rapidly to keep his train of thought; it was difficult with the alcohol coursing through his body, impairing his mental prowess. "Or she makes the effort to understand. No one but family has ever done it before, but most astonishingly, she is not family; she is not of blood, yet she made the choice to try to understand me. She never speaks with me out of a selfish objective as everyone else does; she speaks to me for me, not for herself. She speaks to me because she actively, genuinely cares and holds affection for me; she enjoys talking to me, despite her failure to grasp physics. It is mystifying."

Gig snorted. "Sounds like she loves you, smartass."

"I am most lovable," he agreed. "Mama always said so."

"Penny must not be a genius like you said if she loves you."

Sheldon frowned and took a long swig of his beer; he tried to sit taller on the stool, but he had to grasp Gig's knees for support. "Do not insult her intelligence," he warned, words beginning to slur. "I once made the same mistake. She is exceptional."

Gig watched him for several moments and nodded. "Sounds like it."

"I think Daddy would like her," he continued, starting to sway on the stool; he could not keep his balance. "Mama already likes her—and Missy, too. I think Meemaw would, too."

"Would I like her?"

"She is aesthetically pleasing."

"Blonde or brunette?"

A flash of gold hovered in his memory when he recalled Penny's hair. "Blonde."

Gig laughed. "That's my baby brother!"

XxXxXxXxXxX

She was moving.

Leonard had left without saying goodbye, leaving while she was at work, and she wished she was surprised, but she wasn't. She also wished for his sudden departure to hurt her, a sign that they had actually shared a real friendship and connection, but it didn't hurt her. The only thought that hurt her was that the apartment across from hers was empty, which meant that Sheldon might lose it for when he came back.

After thinking about it a lot—well, it was just a few minutes—Penny made a decision that was the only one she could live with. Instead of Sheldon possibly losing his apartment—and her losing a chance to really see him again—she decided to move into Sheldon's apartment and hold the fort down until he got back. She already cleared it with the landlord, who gave her Leonard's old set of keys, and said it would free her apartment for any new resident, which meant more revenue. She knew it was a huge risk, especially because she hadn't cleared it with Sheldon, but she had to do it. When Sheldon returned, if he hated it, she would cross that road when she got there. Sure, she knew it was an impulsive decision, but she had to do something! She couldn't risk Sheldon losing his apartment because the landlord might see an opportunity to make some extra money or something.

And she wanted Sheldon to have a home to return to when he decided to come back—because it was when, not if!

It had been exhausting moving everything herself, but it had been worth it since it was literally moving everything only around thirty feet, give or take a few. The apartment looked weird with her stuff combined with the few things that Leonard had left behind, including the couch, but she tried to make it work and vowed not to get too attached to the layout or anything because she knew she'd just have to change and rearrange it when Sheldon got back.

But because she was so tired from moving all things over, she slept on the couch, head positioned in Sheldon's spot as its rightful, declared beneficiary, too spent to try to move her bed into Leonard's old room—that would be a task for the next day.

But something awakened her, pulling her out of blissful rest.

She groaned as she heard her phone vibrate against her the coffee table, also left by Leonard, jarring her awake. She ignored it and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to go back to sleep. It went silent for several moments before it buzzed again. She hissed and flipped over, blearily snapped her eyes open. But when she saw WhackADoodle flash over her screen, she gasped in surprise, feeling wide-awake. Did he somehow hear that she had moved into his apartment?

She flipped it wide open and jammed it against her ear. "Sheldon?"

"Close," a deep voice with a southern drawl echoed. "This is Penny, right? It'd be awkward if not."

Penny's eyes narrowed. "Who is this? How'd you get Sheldon's phone?"

"He gave it to me."

"I don't believe you- "

"Well, I technically took it from him when he tried to call 911 to report a death—said he was dyin'."

Her eyes widened in alarm. "Dying? What's going on? Who is- "

"Not a real dyin'," the voice dismissed, sounding impossibly calm and amused. "He's just drunk off his ass, don't know what's goin' on."

She placed a hand against her chest, where she felt her heart race; she was relieved. "He's okay? He just too familiar with Dr. Jim Beam and Dr. Jack Daniels? Were they making house calls?"

"Good one. I'm not even sure he's gonna remember this, but yeah, he's okay."

That painted a clear picture of just how drunk Sheldon was, especially considering he had a perfect memory. "Then why the hell are you calling me at- " She looked at her phone and hissed between her teeth. "- one in the morning? Who are you? If you hurt him, I swear I'll hogtie you up and castrate you. I'll even put your balls in a jar!"

A deep chuckle echoed in her ear. "Ahh, there it is. No wonder Shelly likes you."

"Shelly?" she echoed, knowing there could only be one man who would dare call Sheldon 'Shelly' and have no fear of retaliation—because he could get away with it. "Wait, you're Sheldon's brother? Gig?"

"The one and only," Gig confirmed. "And you're Penny. I'm gonna have to meet you someday. Shelly won't shut up about you. Ever since I got him started, it was like Pandora's Box—he was sayin' you're like Pandora, openin' his world to all possibility or somethin'."

Something embarrassed came over her, never expecting to meet Sheldon's big brother he barely spoke about. "He's drunk," she pointed out in explanation.

Gig laughed. "That's why I know he's talkin' the truth. I gotta see you for myself. He says you're all aesthetically pleasin' and visually appealin'. He says you're a genius, too—something about a revolution. If you think it's hard to follow him when sober, try listenin' to him drunk off his ass. Daddy's gotta be damned proud right now. He's not a virgin anymore—of drinkin', I mean. You're welcome for that, by the way. I'm makin' a man out of him—or more of a man. He's always been more of a man than most."

Penny tried to keep up but relaxed against the couch's cushions. "But he's really okay?"

"Yeah. Missy dragged him down to see me, and he's doin' better, I think. He got it all out, you know."

She didn't know the specifics, but she understood. "Just make sure he doesn't get it all out. We all need to have some secrets."

"Nah, that ain't any- Shelly, stop." It sounded like Gig smacked Sheldon's hand away by the slap that she heard. "I'm talkin' to Penny right now. Ain't you always goin' off about what's rude and shit like that? You're bein' rude. No, I don't care that it was your idea to call her. You can talk to her after I'm done. She's gotta answer my questions, like why the hell she puts up with you if you ain't of her blood. That's number one- what? No, it ain't 'cause your mind's a gift to mankind! Shelly, cut it out! Lemme tell you—you ain't seemin' that smart right now- … No, it's ain't 'cause I'm too dumb to understand you! I understand you fine enough. What I know is that you're the biggest asshole I've ever met, and I gotta know why the hell Penny puts up with you without the excuse of 'he's blood' fuckin' up her judgment!"

Penny felt a breathless laugh escape her because Sheldon was still clearly Sheldon—still himself. "He's my friend, Gig—that's why I put up with him."

"I think we both know it's more than that," Gig retorted, voice distorting strangely; it sounded like he was fighting off Sheldon based on the grunts she heard. But it was all secondary to the rising panic she felt at his words—he knew! How did Gig know? How could he have figured it out when he didn't even know her and had only talked to her for a few minutes? Had Sheldon said something that gave him an idea or something? "Shelly, stop! It's my turn to talk to Penny- … oh, you better be glad I love you, smartass, 'cause I'd knock your fuckin' head off if I didn't. And then I'd punt it right into the middle of the filthiest, sickest landfill I could find. And then I'd take a shit right on it." His voice became much clearer in her ear. "Sorry, Penny—Shelly's a little territorial. Probably thinks I'm gonna steal you or somethin'."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm guessing you've done that a lot."

"Now what exactly has Shelly been tellin' you about me?" Gig demanded, aghast, before his voice echoed in a drift. "Shelly! Have you been tellin' Penny I'm an asshole? … What? 'Only assholes like the Cowboys'?! You like the Cowboys, too! Are you tryin' to piss me off?"

Penny always had the idea that Sheldon's relationship with Missy and Gig was weird when compared to more 'normal' relationships that siblings had, but she was beginning to realize that Sheldon's relationship with his siblings was probably just like most. "If it's any consolation, I don't think you're an asshole- "

"Fine, you can talk to her!" Gig exclaimed in interruption, annoyed. "Go ahead and tire yourself out. Penny, since you're an actress, just recite all his bullshit about the Universe, and it'll put him right to sleep! Then you and I can talk after!"

She laughed when she heard Sheldon's semi-comprehensible babble to Gig before his voice cleared; the phone had been handed off. "Penny, Penny, Penny," Sheldon crooned into her ear through the phone. "You're my apple."

Penny shook her head, amused. "Apple?"

"Uh-uh," Sheldon confirmed, voice wavering from the alcohol, but it was still surprisingly strong. "You fell into my life, bonked my head, and made me see how things are."

She realized suddenly that he alluded to Isaac Newton and the famed apple that fell from the branch onto Newton's head, which culminated in Newton's revolutionary discoveries. "That's really sweet—just like an apple," she said, trying to control her racing heart because she knew that Sheldon would never compare her to an apple, least of all Newton's apple, if it wasn't significant. "How are you doing?"

"I'm intoxicated."

"It sounds like it- "

"Gig says I'm no longer a virgin."

Penny laughed. "Good thing you've got such a good brother, huh?"

The phone scratched, and Sheldon's voice was muffled slightly before it cleared. "I feel better—my head is clearer. It's not from the alcohol. Things are in their places—there's homeostasis."

"That's good, Sheldon," she praised, feeling lighter. "I'm happy to hear that- "

"I told Gig and Missy the truth," he continued, rambling. "I told them about Daddy and what happened. I relived the worst day of my life, but I'm still here—I'm still standing. I never thought I could."

Penny blinked. "The day your dad died?"

"He died in front of me. I was the only one there and had to drive his body back to the house in the middle of the night by myself."

That explained so much. "Sheldon, I'm so sorry."

"You are showing sympathy?"

She nodded, unsure if his confusion was just him or that he was having trouble processing because of how drunk he was. "Yes. I'm sorry that happened."

There was a sudden silence that made her worried before Sheldon sighed. "Thank you, Penny," he whispered. "That was a difficult day. Every day since has been a difficult day because of that difficult day."

Penny swallowed, starting to understand him more; an instinct told her that all his structures, systems, and logic, while having always existed, were kicked into overdrive after his dad died. "But now every day can be better," she said. "Whether you're there or here or wherever, it can be a good day. Not every day has to be a difficult day."

"Very probable," he agreed. "When you invaded, I thought all days henceforth would be unbearable. While the first days were, it changed swiftly until the days were not only bearable but actively enjoyable. Your revolution was always destined to succeed, it appears."

She had never been aware that it was a big deal that Sheldon accepted her into his life as a friend; she had always thought that it was just that no one wanted anything to do with him. But really, Sheldon had always wanted nothing to do with other people, which made his acceptance of her in his life mind-blowing. "I'm glad it did."

"As am I. Now what about your role in the production house you mentioned?" he asked, words slurring slightly, but she still understood him. "I never asked how it went."

"You had other things on your mind," she said. "But it went great. I was offered a part in a local play, produced by a local house! It can open the door for me to do bigger things!"

"Excellent news, Penny," Sheldon commended. "I would drink in celebration for you, but I fear another drink might kill me."

Penny laughed. "It wouldn't kill you," she assured. "But thanks. I'm really happy about it. I feel as buzzed as you are right now."

"Buzzed?"

"Never mind. Just tell me that if I make it big, you'll be there to see it happen."

"I will be there before that happens," he dismissed like he was talking about the weather or something, but she suddenly felt like she could breathe so much easier; she placed a hand against her chest to control her voice.

Penny swallowed, mouth dry. "You're coming back?"

Apparently but unsurprisingly, Sheldon was unaware of how big a deal it was. "Affirmative. I lack specifics to divulge, but I have succeeded in my quest—or will shortly. I feel settled; I feel more balanced."

"You feel lighter?"

"Yes," he agreed, sighing in pleasure, voice softening; he sounded tired. "Your genius intrigues me deeply. I don't understand it, which makes me want to understand it."

Penny felt pleased. "Well, when you come back, just know that it's all here to understand."

Sheldon's yawn was audible before he spoke. "In what play were you offered a part?"

"It's a small play, but it's going to open in three weeks," she explained, feeling buzzed and alert just by the thought of it. "Next week, I start rehearsing with everyone else. It seems like it's kind of based on MacBeth because I play this bitch who's scheming to put the crown onto her brother's head. I don't have much more to go on right now, but it sounds fun to play. I'm trying to figure out how I should approach her relationship with her brother. I mean, if she's trying to put the crown on his head, she clearly loves him. But then again, it could just be a power play, you know? She could be using him for her own means and ends. I'm not sure yet, but I'm buzzed—I mean, excited—to play it. It's my first one that I'm really doing actual acting. From what I heard, I even get my head chopped off at the end—it's going to be so much fun!"

Silence, followed by continuing silence.

"Sheldon?" she asked, but there was only more silence. "Sheldon?"

"He just fell asleep," Gig's voice suddenly said into the phone. "I hope all your stories ain't that borin'."

Penny's eyes narrowed. "My stories aren't boring."

"It was borin' enough to put Shelly asleep, and I've seen him stay awake for 50 hours straight before."

"I think it has more to do with how drunk you got him."

Gig chuckled. "Uh-oh, you're mad at me, ain't you? I know that tone."

Penny leaned back, relaxing. "I'm not mad."

"That's just what a mad woman says."

She laughed. "No, I really mean it—I'm not mad. I'm just glad that Sheldon's okay. I've been really worried about him."

"Do you love him?"

Penny stiffened, realizing that Gig wasn't lying—he wouldn't have asked her if Sheldon was awake. "Yes."

Gig was quiet for several moments. "It takes a special woman to be able to love Shelly. Are you special enough? He seems to think so, but he gets his head twisted all the time, thinkin' stuff he shouldn't."

"I know," she agreed with a fond smile.

"Are you special enough?"

"Apparently, I'm a revolution," Penny pointed out. "I think that means I'm special enough."

Gig sighed into the phone. "Figures. Never thought he'd make a blonde fall in love with him, but he's always been unlike anyone ever."

Penny snorted. "That's for damn sure. I don't even know if he made me fall in love with him. It just happened, you know. Caught me by surprise. He doesn't even know, and I'm not even sure if he would reciprocate or anything- "

"Oh, he loves you," Gig assured like it was nothing, sounding almost like Sheldon, but his calm reassurance made her heart pick up its pace.

Gig was Sheldon's brother, who knew him since he was a baby, knew the ins and outs of what made Sheldon 'Sheldon' and understood how he behaved, acted, and thought of things. And Gig was a guy, too. If anyone knew what he was talking about, it was Gig—and Gig said that Sheldon loved her. That had to mean something.

Right?

"Really?" she asked, unable to help herself.

"Do you shit in the toilet?" Gig chortled. "Of course, he loves you. If he hasn't kicked you out of his life, he loves you. He thinks you're comely and everythin'—I heard him say that earlier. He calls you aesthetically pleasin', too—and lemme tell you, that's some real high praise comin' from him. He once said a girl I was datin', one of the prettiest girls in the entire school, a girl any guy would love to date, looked like nothin' more than a horned toad. It didn't go over too well when he said it to her face. I was too busy fixin' brisket with Daddy to do anythin' about it. And by the time I heard what happened, I just ate my brisket; I didn't wanna get in the middle of that fire."

She laughed, believing his assurance. Sheldon loved her. "Brisket was more important than your girlfriend?"

Gig snorted. "Hell yeah. There's billions of girls in the world—there's only a few briskets in comparison, 'specially good brisket."

"I'm guessing your girlfriend wasn't too happy."

"Nah, she stormed out and told everyone in school I had a small dick. But then I turned it around and said since she was failin' math, she can't ever be trusted to do accurate measurements. Then I made everyone start askin' why she stayed with me so long if I had a small dick, 'cause we dated for about four months. Made her look stupid all around."

Penny shook her head. "Well played."

"Yeah, but Shelly said that to a girl I was thinkin' I might marry or somethin'."

"But you married your brisket instead."

"Exactly. So, now I can't wait to meet you. If Shelly says you're aesthetically pleasin', I'm thinkin' I may have a heart attack when I meet you."

Penny smiled. "That's the right thought to have. I look good."

Gig laughed. "Well done, Shelly. Daddy's gotta be so proud. We weren't ever sure with him, sometimes. I mean, Shelly's never done things like everyone else. He's always been hopeless, 'specially about this stuff. When he had a crush on Lucy Simmons, he wrote a twenty-page research paper or somethin' on 'courtship protocols' that he put in her family's mailbox."

She smiled. "How old was he?"

"I think six, but he was six goin' on sixty, you know. She was seventeen—didn't think it was nearly as cute or 'natural' as Shelly kept callin' it."

Penny could certainly see that happening and laughed. "I bet that caused a stir."

Gig scoffed. "Yeah, by me. Daddy thought it was hilarious, and Mama wasn't worried at all. But that was Lucy Simmons, older sister of the Simmons brothers! I fuckin' hated those assholes! If Shelly got together with her, I'd be brothers with the Simmons brothers by association! I might have killed myself to avoid it—I'm not sure. I raised hell and tried to convince him of how evil it was, but he just talked circles around me. He had me even questionin' if I had a crush on Lucy Simmons by the time he was through! That was painful."

"I can imagine," she drawled.

"If Shelly's kept you around this long, it means somethin'; the fact you ain't been scared off means somethin', too. He loves you. It may not seem like he understands love and all that, but he does. Trust me, he knows."

Penny swallowed. "I know."

"He's always been scared of it, 'specially since Daddy died," Gig explained, voice softer but also more insistent; it was pressurized, making her understand how serious he was. "But he knows it; it ain't somethin' foreign to him or anythin'. He's had enough of it to know what it is. He just doesn't like thinkin' about it."

"I know."

"That's good. I'd tell you not to break your heart, but I know I don't have to."

"Thank you- "

"Shelly would build a ray gun and do away with you before I could ever hurt you."

Penny laughed. "Sounds about right. Don't worry—I don't plan on making him build a ray gun."

"Maybe you could convince him to make one for me," Gig replied, sounding serious and hopeful. "That way, I could shoot my T.V. when the game's goin' like shit. Then I won't have to watch those damn replays—it makes me sick just watchin' how it all went to hell 'cause of a screw-up play call."

"The plight of all Cowboys fans, I imagine," she concluded, feeling sympathy. "I'm from Nebraska, so I understand."

A choked laugh echoed in her ear. "You're a fan of the Cornshitters?"

Her eyes narrowed; her sympathy vanished. "Cornhuskers."

Gig snorted. "Believe me, you're the only one who calls 'em that. The Longhorns eat those suckers and shit 'em out every year—the Cornshitters."

Unable to deny that fact, she rolled her eyes. "And you're the only one who calls the Cowgirls the Cowboys."

A long-suffering sigh echoed in her ear. "Abso-fuckin'-lutely. I know, I know. They play like a bunch of girls—it's pathetic. The only thing that makes the games worth watchin' are those cheerleaders—the actual Cowgirls. I'd rather just watch those cheerleaders all day instead of the team with how they've been playin'. I got spoiled young watchin' 'em have that dynasty. It's been jack-shit since."

Penny shook her head with a smirk. "That's the fun with football—you can watch other games and be a fan of other teams."

"Being a fan is fun?" Gig asked in disbelief. "Shit, I'm definitely doin' somethin' wrong."

She laughed. "You did a lot right with Sheldon—that's what counts."

"Same goes for you," he commended. "You're good for him."

Penny smiled. "I hope so. He's good for me, too."

XxXxXxXxXxX

It was his first time driving since that night, but it was not as terrifying as he had anticipated. Daddy's truck ran smoothly and efficiently, showing no symptoms of an integral problem that needed his attention. There was nothing wrong with it—and, more surprisingly, there was nothing wrong with him. He knew how to drive, remembered all his lessons from when he was a child when Daddy showed him how, specifically when Gig had been learning. He had been part of the lesson. Daddy had become so frustrated with Gig's lack of progress, that he declared it was so easy that Sheldon could do it. Thus, he had started driving, which motivated Gig to master it.

But he had prepared for memories to bombard him—memories of that night—and threaten his ability to drive, impairing him, but nothing; there was a serenity that astonished him. It was not an active enjoyment, not something he foresaw doing often, but no longer did the terror that had always been there since that night hinder him. It was now within his capability, for it had always been within his capability—he simply had needed to put things in their places, giving his life proper and healthy order.

When he arrived at the lake, he killed the engine and hopped out of the truck, feeling the fresh breeze hit his face; there were no thoughts of germs or possible contamination from uninspected sources. He closed the truck door, feeling its vibration reverberate through his arm briefly as he walked the same path he had fifteen years ago, approaching the lake. When he reached the shore, he stopped and breathed everything in, allowing himself to finally breathe for the first time since he had stopped breathing—at the lake when Daddy had died.

He stared for a long time, absorbing it until he sat on the shore at the lake's edge, uncaring that he dirtied his pants—because they were blue jeans, something he was ambivalent toward, regardless if it was dirty or not. For a long time, his thoughts shimmered in his mind like the lake's surface, remembering. There was no more fear in remembering, and he basked in it.

Daddy clapped his shoulder and reclined next to him on the couch. "What are you doin'?"

"Homework," Sheldon answered, confused.

"No, you were doin' homework. You've just been sittin' there for about ten minutes, starin' off into space."

"I'm thinking."

"What are you thinkin' about?"

Sheldon smiled slightly. "My Nobel. I will win it one day."

Daddy laughed and took a sip from his beer bottle. "Of course, you will. But you can't tell me that it's all you think about. I know you have other thoughts than that. And if you don't have other thoughts than that, you need to. What else do you think about?"

"My trajectory to obtaining the Nobel and what college and career path would best offer- "

"No, no, what do you really think about? When you go to sleep, or are trying to, what do you think about?"

Sheldon blinked, tilting his head in consideration. "I think about Superman and Spock; I marvel at how Copernicus, Galileo, Newton, and Einstein succeeded in all they did; I wonder what technological advancements will be made across the span of my life; I consider how history reached this point; I think about the man who discovered fire and shaped our entire species forever, changing us on all foundations; I imagine the first Man interacting with Neanderthals and Cro-Magnons; I ruminate on the miraculous odds of Life existing; I think about gene flow and how countless generations of men have resulted in me with my premier genius, with genes contributed by sources unknown to me due to the lost recorded lineages; sometimes, I think about the Cowboys and how they would have had more success if they called different plays- "

Daddy laughed. "I knew you were my son! But I'm glad you think about all that. Don't ever get too focused on one thing, Sheldon. When you do that, you get tunnel vision and miss everythin' that's happenin' outside that tunnel. And lemme tell you—it's a lot that you're missin' if you get stuck in tunnel vision. The world's an amazin' place. Don't get so focused on the tree in front of you that you miss the forest surroundin' you."

"But in a forest, there is a central tree that supplies all the other trees with their existences," he protested, confused. "It is the great tree. With physics, I study the motions of the Universe, which supplies all the other 'trees in the forest' with their existence. This means that I am already encountering all the other trees within the great tree."

"But you're still missin' the effects of all those other trees," Daddy pointed out, tipping his beer bottle at him for emphasis. "You think you got all the roots connected to the big tree, but you're missin' the fruits of those roots, missin' the amazin' trees that those roots sprout from the ground. And these other trees have a bunch of branches, takin' in so much more than what you think they are. The only way to actually see any of it and understand it is to see those other trees and pay attention to them. You can know all about their existence and everythin', but you ain't ever gonna understand them unless you look at them and do the work to understand them. And you'll find that by studying those other trees, it makes your understandin' of the great tree all the bigger and better."

Sheldon stared at him for a long time, processing his claims. "That does not make sense."

"Does the Universe make sense?"

Outrage flooded his body. "Of course, it does!"

Daddy smiled. "How do you know? You don't actually understand it now, right? You're plannin' to study it later on, but you don't know hardly anythin' about it now. But you got faith there's understandin' to be had, right? These other trees are the same—you don't understand them now, but you got faith they can be understood."

"But I have no desire to understand them."

"These other trees exist rather you like it or not, and you gotta respect that; you gotta give it the respect it deserves. You can't just write it all off. How do you know somethin' is bad unless you understand it? You can't say these other trees are bad or not worth understandin' 'cause you've never given them any actual thought. You're just half-assin' it right now. You can't go through your life half-assin' things, Sheldon. You know what I say."

Sheldon sighed but nodded. "'If you're gonna half-ass anything, no one'll ever take you seriously. Half-assin' equals not even doin' it at all.' I know."

"Exactly," Daddy praised and took a long swig of his beer and swallowed it with a pleased gasp. "Things are never as simple as they seem."

"But Occam's Razor says that simplicity is primary. Intellect is pointless without simplicity."

Daddy's eyebrows rose. "But if that was true, a simple mind could understand things as well as your mind, but it's not true because your mind is complex. The complex matters, Sheldon. You can only ever go to the simple once you've done all the work on the complex side, but you haven't done that, have you? 'Cause if you had, you would have looked at all those other trees and given them the same focus you do the big tree. You can only ever understand the simple once you understand the complex beneath it because the complex is what's givin' the simple its existence. It's like an iceberg. You see what's on the surface—the simple—but underneath the waters, there's a much bigger iceberg, unseen—the complex. And you only see the surface 'cause the complex is doin' the work to keep the simple afloat."

Sheldon tried to find words to refute Daddy's claim, but he was unable to deduce the necessary words in the moment. "I will consider your words."

"Just don't consider them too hard," Daddy said, stretching back and nestling in the cushions. "Overthinking means nothin' gets done. When you over think somethin', you're not actually thinkin'—you're just stuck. Thinkin' is supposed to be like a river, constantly goin', but if you're overthinkin', you're no longer the river—you're just the rock coming out of the river, unable to move, unable to go anywhere. You're stuck. That's gonna be your problem, Sheldon—overthinkin'. Sometimes you'll have to get out of your head and live your life; you ain't ever gonna live it by just thinkin'."

Even though he did not understand, he nodded. "I understand."

Daddy grinned as he ruffled his hair briefly, which Sheldon hastily corrected. "Atta boy."

Sheldon watched the sunlight gleam against the lake's surface, which rippled gently with the wind's steady glide. "I did not have you in your place, for I kept you in no place," he confessed with a thick swallow, trying to call upon his logic to keep from breaking, but it was impotent next to the redemptive emotion. "I'm sorry for that. You deserve to be remembered forever, and I am up to the task. I will remember all that you are all my life."

There was no response, as expected, but somehow, despite logic's simplicity, he knew that Daddy heard him.

XxXxXxXxXxX

When his phone buzzed, he grabbed it, expecting Penny, but when he saw the number, he froze for several long moments before answering: "Leonard."

"Hey, Sheldon," Leonard greeted, voice soft and hesitant.

Silence.

Leonard's sigh was ragged. "Listen, I don't really know why I'm calling, but I wanted to let you know that I moved out of the apartment. CalTech fired me, Howard, and Raj."

"I know," he notified stiff.

"Of course, Penny told you," Leonard muttered, voice distorting strangely through the connection before it cleared. "But we're all gone. We all went home—we had to. Raj went back to India. I'm back home, and Howard told me he's probably moving to find new work. We're considered pariahs now—untouchable."

Sheldon's eyes traced his belongings, which he had been packing before Leonard's call. He had prepared himself to deal with Leonard—with all the Betrayers—upon his return, but it appeared that his preparations were for naught, for they were moving or had already moved. "I hope your mother is understanding of your situation."

Leonard grunted and was quiet for several moments. "I guess I deserve that. I haven't told her yet, but I'm going to. She thinks I'm on a real sabbatical."

"I anticipate her disappointment will be repairable, unlike mine."

"We're no longer friends?"

Sheldon's eyes closed briefly. "We never were to begin with."

"I guess not," Leonard whispered. "I'm sorry, Sheldon. We shouldn't have sabotaged you."

"I'm sorry, as well," he replied honestly. "I should never have invited you on the expedition. You could not handle it—none of you could."

"No, we couldn't. We should have been real friends to you."

Sheldon's spare hand clenched into a tight fist. "But you never considered me a friend. It is the only logical conclusion. Do not bother denying it."

Leonard was quiet before releasing a breath. "I guess not, no."

Silence.

"But I don't think you were friends to us, either," Leonard pointed out, voice firmer. "You've never understood friendship. Because you didn't, we knew we couldn't be actual friends with you."

"I understand it now," Sheldon retorted, voice wavering slightly with emotion. "Penny is the only friend I have ever had."

"I'm sorry you couldn't understand it before now. Maybe things would have been different."

Sheldon swallowed. "Perhaps. I'm sorry that I infuriated you to such a degree over years where you felt the only reply possible was to sabotage my grand triumph. I did consider you my friend, Leonard—I thought you were my friend. Perhaps I misunderstood its depth and meaning, but I thought of you as a friend. I valued you in my life and trusted you to be part of my life, including with my grand triumph."

Leonard sighed. "I'm sorry that I valued the promise of sex more than whatever connection we had, whether it was friendship or not. I shouldn't have done that. That's why I wanted to get home so badly- "

"For Penny," he observed, understanding why he felt a flush of ire at the thought but refusing to dwell on it—for now. "You anticipated coitus with her."

A laugh that sounded unamused echoed. "And now she wants nothing to do with me. Nothing went how I thought it would go."

"A sentiment I share."

"Then you know how much it sucks."

Sheldon shook his head. "Yes, but it was necessary. I have learned much from this ordeal. Things are in their places now; no more is my work overstretched across all facets of my life. Not only is there the tree in front of me; now there is the forest surrounding me. I am balanced finally."

Leonard was quiet for several moments. "Maybe I'll be able to do the same someday."

"Perhaps," he agreed. "You have always operated on less extremes than me. You are much closer to it than I was."

"I compare you to when I first moved in, and you've always been a nightmare—but you've changed. You're not the same Sheldon. You evolved."

He thought of how far he had come. "Yes."

There was a statical silence before Leonard seemed to almost hum. "It was Penny. After she entered our lives, you started changing—you've always been you, but the edges became different."

Sheldon nodded. "The nature is the same while the form is different."

"Right," Leonard agreed. "Since she entered our lives, I think we've almost switched places. You started out extreme but have migrated toward balance while I started out balanced but migrated toward the extreme."

"Penny brought out the best in me but did not bring out the best in you."

"That's one way to put it," Leonard muttered, sounding pained—but he did not reject the conclusion.

"You said you moved out of the apartment," Sheldon said after a long time, feeling the beginning of alarm pierce through him. He had anticipated he would have an apartment to return to because he assumed that Leonard would still be there. However, since he had paid off the rest of his share of the rent for the year, he had effectively stranded himself with no apartment if the landlord decided to begin a new lease with a new client—since the previous ones had already paid their lease. His plan to return had relied on Leonard still living at the apartment, but now that he knew Leonard was no longer there, his plan was in disarray. "Now I no longer have an apartment to return to."

A pained, almost breathless laugh echoed. "I don't think you have to worry about that from what I gathered. I think Penny's taken care of it."

"Meaning?"

"It seemed to me like she was planning to move in herself—take my place, if you will."

Sheldon's eyes widened in surprise. "She told you- "

"She didn't say anything about it," Leonard interrupted, voice more hollow than lively. "It's just a sense I have. It's either that, or you could sleep on her couch—or she could sleep on her couch while you take her bed—for a while until you find a new place. Either way, I bet you'll be living with her. Whenever you go back, you'll have a place to go to."

A fierce surge of affection inflamed his mind. "Good."

"I'm sorry, Sheldon—I really am."

Sheldon nodded, curt. "So am I, but there is no changing this now. Too much was lost, and I have gained new things in the old's absence; the void has been filled."

"I understand."

"I wish you well, Leonard."

"You too, Sheldon," Leonard whispered, words a faint puff of air. "Goodbye."

"Farewell."

Sheldon pulled the phone away from his ear and hung up; there was a sorrow but acceptance that accompanied it. He had considered Leonard his friend, but it had been a misperception. Now that he refined his perception, he understood things much clearer, but there was still part of him that mourned his misperception, for there were good times, at least to him, that he shared with Leonard. They might not have been friends, but they were roommates and colleagues—but now they would never be again.

It appeared that he would have a new roommate. According to Leonard, who possessed a clearer understanding of the situation in California, he would live with Penny, who might have taken it upon herself with her notable boldness to secure the apartment, keep it from falling into someone else's possession by moving into it. Such a thought did not make him panic or rebel or reject. Even the forceful reminder of her chaos and messy environment, how she left items and clothes scattered everywhere, did not diminish his satisfaction with the situation. He felt no horror or distress about the sudden change in structure; he felt content with living Penny.

It was strange—but thrilling.

Fascinating.

"You comin'?"

Sheldon glanced at Gig, who stood in the doorway with a box of his belongings held in his arms. "Yes, in a moment."

Gig rolled his eyes. "I drove four hours to see you off, and you just keep me waitin'—ain't that typical?"

"Not as typical as a Cowboys loss."

"Are you tryin' to piss me off?"

Sheldon's lips twitched. "I make a simple observation."

Gig scoffed but nodded. "Can't say you're wrong, can I? They suck worse than one of those shop-grade vacuums. And then they go ahead and suck us all into their suckage. Why are we Cowboys fans again?"

"They were Daddy's team, which makes them 'our' team. We inherited his affection and support for them."

"That may be my one inheritance from him I gotta rethink."

Sheldon exhaled slowly, savoring the serenity he felt; it was riveting and mesmerizing. "I regret none of my inheritances from him nor from Mama."

Gig's face twisted. "Suck up."

"No, that is the Cowboys."

A surprised laugh echoed. "No, they're suckers—and we're the worst suckers of all 'cause we root for 'em!"

Sheldon picked up his box and followed Gig out of the room; it was the last of his belongings he would take with him back personally to California. "You root for them while I listen to you deride their gameday decisions."

"Nah," Gig assured, confident. "You pay attention. You may not watch the games, but you read up on 'em. I bet you probably watch highlights of the games. 'Cause you know too much when we talk on the phone to have nothin' to go on."

He elected not to notify Gig that he was correct in his assessment; he watched highlights only—on double speed, of course, to make it as minimal as possible. Sometimes he read comments posted by fans. "My genius understands all subjects. Football is simple to grasp."

"You should've become a coach—you could make the Cowboys finally win another Super Bowl if you were the coach."

"Naturally," Sheldon agreed as they approached Daddy's truck and placed their boxes in the back, where all his other belongings he was able to fit were located.

He was driving back to California in Daddy's truck—Mama wanted him to have it.

When he shut the door, Mama, Meemaw, and Missy were waiting, for it was time for his departure if he wanted to make good time and arrive when he calculated accurately. He had already selected highly rated hotels to stay at during his journey and made his reservations; if he missed his reservations, it would be a calamity.

Missy met him halfway with a fond smile and gentle punch to his arm—before she pulled him into a hug. "It's been good seein' you, Shelly. I wanna see more of you, got it? You're my twin brother—I should see you more, and I don't mean me flyin' up to California to visit."

Sheldon patted her back as Mama taught him when he was a boy. "I understand. We will communicate more on the subject. The form of communication, email or phone, is up to you."

She pulled back and stared at him with eyebrows raised. "Phone, Shelly. I'm gonna talk your ear off."

"That is impossible- "

Missy smiled. "Are you doubtin' what I'm capable of?"

Sheldon sighed. "If anyone could achieve such an impossible absurdity, it is you."

"Thanks, Shelly. You drive safe, alright? Remember what Daddy said?"

"I remember everything that Daddy said."

Missy's smile stretched into a grin. "Some guy runs you off, you just pepper his bumper—call 'em love taps, right?"

Sheldon shook his head at the memory. "I will elect for a wiser approach."

"About time you do."

He turned to Mama, who hugged him immediately; he embraced her in return. "I will come back," he promised. "Perhaps for the holidays."

Gig laughed from behind him, and somehow, Sheldon knew that Gig was grinning, even though they did not look at each other. "You bringin' Penny?"

He closed his eyes as Mama leaned back, eyes roaming his face. "Penny, your pretty neighbor?"

"That's her," Gig confirmed with a snort. "Shelly thinks she's comely."

Mama smiled. "Well, then she's welcome anytime. God works in mysterious ways, right?"

Sheldon sighed. "Goodbye, Mama."

"Goodbye, Shelly. You call me when you get there, alright? I wanna know you made it safe."

"I will," he promised and let go to turn to Meemaw, who stepped forward slightly and embraced him; he crouched down and wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm proud of you, Moonpie," she said.

"Thanks, Meemaw."

She squeezed his arms as she pulled back; her face beamed with happiness. "Your daddy's proud of you, too. You've done a good job, and you're going to keep at it."

Sheldon nodded, knowing that Meemaw could not possibly know that Daddy was proud of him, but he believed it, regardless. "I will."

"I expect a letter telling me all about it."

"I will describe everything," he promised and let go of her and stepped toward Gig, who leaned against the truck bed. "Only assholes do not like the Cowboys."

Gig laughed. "Ain't that the truth?" He pushed himself off the truck and clapped Sheldon on the shoulder and pulled him into a side-hug; he patted his chest several times. "You get back and seize your life, you hear me? You be successful and win that Nobel thing. Do what you wanna do and live your life like you wanna live it. It's your choice and no one else's. There ain't anyone in the world who can tell you how you gotta live your life; you just tell yourself and do it. No one can be Sheldon Cooper but you, so go be Sheldon Cooper—the real Sheldon Cooper."

Sheldon patted Gig's shoulder, much bigger than his own. "I underestimated you."

Gig winked. "Like all the teams playin' the Cowboys this year, right?"

"Right."

"Now you gotta promise me somethin'," Gig said, face serious, but there was a light in his eyes that suggested otherwise. "It's real important."

"What?"

"When you see Penny, tell her that the Cornhuskers—I'm sorry, Cornshitters—ain't gonna sniff an undefeated season even if it was given to 'em." Gig grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. "She'll know what it means."

Sheldon sighed, anticipating the reaction to such an 'important' message. "I will give her your phone number if she demands to verbally reprimand you for such a slight."

Gig stepped back, opened his arms, and bowed slightly. "I look forward to it."

He memorized his family one last time, seeing how they all gathered together to see him off and wish him well—all done for him. It was nice, pleasant, and meaningful.

Fascinating.

"You be safe, Shelly!" Mama called out as he started the engine. "I'll be prayin' for you to have a safe drive!"

Sheldon rolled down the window and waved. "I love you, too!" he said, raising his voice to be heard.

With one final look at them waving at him, he turned the truck around and took off.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Penny had finally gotten the apartment's layout right for now; she had tried to make everything fit together so nothing clashed or looked out of place. It was difficult, for there was certainly a big part of her that wanted to move the couch to produce a better, more open flow for the space, but she knew Sheldon's spot, of which she was beneficiary, according to Sheldon, which meant he trusted her to care for it—and sit in it—needed to remain where it was. Sheldon's spot belonged to Sheldon; though she was the beneficiary, she wasn't the owner. She couldn't decide to move it, and she respected it—even though it was hard. So, she left it alone and adjusted and rearranged everything else on her own, trying to make it all match and flow as best she could.

She sat down in Sheldon's spot as its beneficiary and started flipping through the script for her part in the local play she was offered. She had already read it several times, but she was doing it again, focusing specifically on her character instead of the whole story. She liked to start on the whole before she worked down to specifics. Now that she understood the story, she focused on her character and how her role in the story progressed, influenced, and ended ultimately. There was a lot to consider, especially in doing her performance; it was a lot more than memorizing her lines.

What should her face portray during certain scenes? How should she walk? How should she huddle to the side and listen to others? How could she convey to the audience exactly what was going through her character's mind accurately? What did she need to do? What did it mean to try to seize a throne for her brother? Should there be stoicism? Should there be laughter? Should eyes gleam or dim? Should she go for dramatic or subtle? Did she want the audience to love her character or hate her character? Did she want the audience to root for her character or against her character? What about her character's brother, who her character was, allegedly, doing all her plotting for? Would the relationship be close and intimate and trusting, or would the relationship be cold and distant and political?

There were so many things to consider—so many interpretations to make to bring the story alive on the stage.

Suddenly, she heard the door's lock twisting, and she turned toward the door, confused. Had Leonard returned or something? Did someone think she wasn't home? Was she being robbed? But before she could do anything, like try to grab a weapon or prepare herself, the door swung upon, and Sheldon—Sheldon!—walked in, which made her mind go blank.

Penny gaped at Sheldon—he was back! Her eyes bulged because it was clearly Sheldon, but he was different; his beard was full and dark, but it was his sudden but tentative smile that caught her eye—a real smile! And then there were his electric eyes that possessed a shade of light inside that had never been there before. She realized that she was seeing him happy for the first time ever—an actual real happiness that was set in his bones. And it left her breathless that she felt the same happiness at seeing him again.

Sheldon stared at her sitting in his spot while she gawked at him, stunned. "Penny, since I have returned, you are no longer the beneficiary of my Spot. I request you move."

She did move—directly at him. She scrambled from the couch and lunged at him, surging forth to hug him; he grunted in surprise and stepped back from the unprepared-for force, and just when she was about to pull back and apologize, she went still completely when his arms wrapped around her in a natural way—nothing like the awkward previous attempts.

Sheldon knew how to hug.

"I've missed you," she whispered, emotions rising inside her—and finding release in the tears that beckoned and fell.

Sheldon's arms felt really nice around her—very warm, too. "It does not make rational sense since we communicated often through text and phone calls, but it does not dismiss the fact that I missed you, too—somehow. It baffles me."

Penny laughed and squeezed him tighter, amazed when he didn't flinch or squawk about germs or something; she pulled back and looked up at him with a breathless grin. "Because we're actually here. We see each other in-person and can feel each other—feel our presences or whatever. It doesn't have to be rational—because it's not about that all the time. I know you love being rational, but it's not always about that."

His lips quirked in a way she had never seen before. "'There are more things, Horatio, in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'"

"Exactly!" she praised, in wonder, trying to keep up with all the onslaught she was feeling. "I had no idea you were coming back so soon!"

"Though it is not one of my classic practical jokes, you fall victim to it all the same."

"You wanted to surprise me?"

"Affirmative."

Penny grinned. "You succeeded! Are you really back?"

Sheldon nodded. "Yes. Things are in their places."

Her joy faded swiftly as she remembered that she hadn't got his permission to move into his apartment. "Is this okay? Us living together? I didn't want to risk you losing the apartment. There really was a method to my madness, I promise."

He assessed the apartment, obviously taking in the new layout before he looked back at her; there was no chaos or fury or horror on his face. He was calm—and remarkably laid back, almost. "We will reach a more balanced layout," he said at last. "But this does not displease me. I am content with the arrangement."

Penny sagged in relief. "Good. If I had known you were coming back this quick, I wouldn't have done it- "

"I am glad you did," Sheldon interrupted, holding her shocked gaze. "The thought of living with you would have once revolted me. However, now, it is pleasant. It is a strange, but I contribute it to your revolution, for you are revolutionary. I am undoubtedly capable of living without you."

She rolled her eyes, trying but failing to squash the stab of hurt. "Wow, thanks, Sheldon. You sure know how to flatter a girl- "

"However, I deem such a reality unacceptable," he concluded. "I love that you are in my life, and I would love it even more if you continue being in my life."

Penny swallowed. "Good," she whispered, voice cracking slightly before she cleared her throat. "I love that you're in my life, too. I'm really happy that you're back."

Sheldon nodded. "Naturally," he agreed, and she finally noticed the keys in his hand.

"Wait, are those car keys?" Penny asked, shocked, brows rising in amazement. "Did you drive?"

He looked uncomfortable. "I never drove not due to an incapability to drive but because I did not want to. Now I wanted to."

"Did you buy a car- "

"It is Daddy's truck."

Penny closed her eyes in understanding. "The one you fixed up. And it's yours now?"

"Mama gave it to me."

"Must be a pretty special truck," she commented, knowing that it had to be if it was kept for so long—and if Sheldon dedicated so much of his time to fixing it up while he was away.

Sheldon smiled slightly, surprising her; she was getting used to seeing him smile, but she loved it. "Daddy said it was part of the family due to its success in keeping us safe for so long. He said you have to love your truck so your truck will love you, which he claimed reflected many things in Life."

Penny smiled gently, impressed by his dad's wisdom. "Sounds like a smart man."

"Daddy would like you," Sheldon said with a fond distance on his face. "I wish he could meet you."

"I can't meet him, but I do know him," she assured, staring up at him. "I know him because I know you, and he had to have been a good dad to make you who you are."

He cleared his throat, emotions passing over his face. "Yes, he was the best. Gig agrees, and he told me to tell you that the Cornhuskers will fail to achieve an undefeated season even if it was given to them."

Penny accepted the change in topic. "We're going to beat the Longhorns this year—you tell him I said that."

Sheldon frowned. "You can tell him yourself. I will give you his phone number- "

"Maybe another time," she dismissed, waiving a hand as she eyed him; he looked tired. "Do you need help carrying anything up from your truck?"

He blinked in surprise, clearly realizing that it was no longer his dad's truck but his truck. "Yes, that would be beneficial. Thank you. There is not much. Once everything is brought up, I can resume my life with things in their places. There will finally be peace and order."

When they began walking down the stairs after she shut the door and locked it, she took her chance, risking it all, and grabbed his hand and interlocked their fingers. In response, Sheldon's hand stiffened for the briefest moment before it relaxed, squeezing back, accepting her hand in his, despite all the possible germs.

It was the start of something more—and that was enough.

XxXxXxXxXxX

That's the end of this story, everyone. I hope that you all enjoyed it. Thank you for reading.

Stay Safe
ButtonPusher