Fic: The Crossroads Conundrum, Part 4
Title: The Crossroads Conundrum
Part 4: Sheldon
Author: she_burns1
Pairing: Sheldon/Penny, Leonard/Penny
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,912
Summary: Future!fic! Sheldon, Penny, and Leonard all thought they knew exactly what they wanted, but with a big change on the way, all three begin to question themselves, and each of them is lead in a direction they had not anticipated.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The plot is all mine. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thanks again to everyone for reading and commenting! I'm glad people seem to be enjoying the story! And don't worry, the mysteries of the laundry room are soon to be revealed!
Back to: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
Is love supposed to last throughout all time, or is it like trains changing at random stops. If I loved her, how could I leave her? If I felt that way then, how come I don't feel anything now? - Jeff Melvoin
He’d been on the train over four hours now, and with each click of track, he found his mind growing more at ease. Better. Lighter. As if a weight had been taken from him, his thought process unblocked.
And his view from the left side of the train was breathtaking. Sure, at first he had had to go through the monotony of seeing a concrete jungle of blandness, but it had eventually given way to a scenic beauty that was, essentially, impossible to describe.
Slopes and rolls of land that were aesthetically pleasing, with colors that varied all over the color spectrum. And the sky, well, the sky had just grown more brilliant as the sun rose. Such a remarkable blue.
Sheldon admired it for only a moment or two before finally drawing out his journal again. This time he found it easier to steer himself back towards his work and he took an almost vicious pleasure in the fact. Leaving had obviously been the right thing to do.
His pen worked over the paper sharply and quickly, almost to the point of abuse, as idea after idea occurred to him. Each equation seemed more surmountable than the last, and he was starting to think that he should have done all his work on trains years ago.
Oh! Another idea, mobile work stations! He made a quick notation to one side of his work, knowing he would want to come back to that later. Besides, he didn’t want to get too side tracked - he felt like he was getting close to a breakthrough here. Even more so than what he had accomplished on his sojourn to the Artic.
Maybe location was key.
Not being locked down by frivolity was certainly one. To think, he had wasted so much time.
How many hours had he lost to paint ball or to Halo or to those other childish endeavors that, at the end of the day, were utterly meaningless. They certainly didn’t bring him anything. No Nobel Prize, that was for sure.
Leonard, Wolowitz, Koothrappali - look where such distractions had led them. Not one of them would ever accomplish anything. At least, not anything of real note. He was the only one of them with the vision, the cunning to make it, to succeed, to get what he wanted.
What did he want?
Sheldon’s writing slowed and he blinked as if snapping out of a trance.
The question had come to him, unbidden and so startling, it was as if someone had spoken it aloud.
What did he want?
He shook his head.
That was simple. What he wanted. He knew what he wanted. Of course he did. What a silly question. It shouldn’t have even made him pause.
He wanted a Nobel Prize.
A Nobel Prize, answers to the unanswerable questions that string theory presented…maybe some recognition, though, honestly, it wasn’t something he required. He could really care less about what people thought of him.
That much is obvious, his thoughts stated and he frowned, confused. Interesting. Sarcasm in his own mind? Directed at himself?
He looked around the train suspiciously. He highly doubted that any of the passengers on the train were telepathic (not to mention, he didn’t given any credible credence to telepathy, despite what some of his favorite comics hypostasized), which could only mean the thought had come from within his own mind.
He found it odd that such a thing could happen, but then, his mind could be called into question as of late, despite what work he had just managed to complete.
Something was…wrong.
Okay, no, in point of fact, several things were wrong but he didn’t really want to go through the list.
He decided to just focus on just the one and ran it over again in his mind. He didn’t care what others thought of him. This much was obvious. Clearly a reference to the fact that he had not only left so abruptly, but that he had also left only a few weeks before his best friend’s nuptials. Nuptials that he himself was to take part in as best man.
Best man.
The title irritated him for numerous reasons.
There was the fact that the term in and of itself was ridiculous - how does one measure a ‘best’ man? Is it measured by years of friendship, by the integrity of the person receiving the title, or by the person’s merits over time and so on?
And then there were the tasks the person thrust into this role was to undertake -helping the groom get prepared for the wedding, giving a toast at the reception, making sure all the arrangements for the couple were taken care of - it was like being a glorified babysitter.
Sheldon was positive that Howard would be a much more suitable candidate for the position than himself. Besides, the man had practically begged to plan the bachelor party and frankly, Sheldon was relieved he would not be there for that.
Whatever Howard Wolowitz cooked up for a bachelor party was sure to end in gratuitous nudity, tears, and possible jail time.
And the notes Sheldon had left Howard were very thorough. So thorough that anyone with them could easily take over the role. Even Winkle, with her limited learning capacity, could, if need be.
And Sheldon highly doubted that there would be a need. Howard would most likely rise to the occasion - and years of friendship with Howard had taken there toll, as even he saw the pun therein. Penny would do well to warn her bridesmaids.
Penny.
“What are you drawing?”
Sheldon sat up, startled, and turned to see who had spoken.
Besides himself, there were three other passengers in the train car he was seated in. The first was a harried-looking young woman to the far other side of the car, who alternated from looking out the window to looking at her book. The second was an elderly black woman who slept peacefully across from him. And the third was now on the seat to his immediate right, looking down curiously at his journal.
It was a young boy who, if looks could determine anything, was most likely the son of the young woman. They shared the same fair complexion and dark black hair. Though the boy certainly seemed more carefree as he looked up at Sheldon with big eyes.
Big eyes that were the same color as Penny’s.
Sheldon swallowed, and for some reason, found his voice difficult to find, “And you are?”
“Ben.”
Sheldon just nodded blankly and Ben asked again, “What are you drawing?”
“I’m not drawing. I’m working on an idea stemming from the holographic principle that I believe will better justify string theory and, as an added bonus, show more inherent flaws in the idea of loop quantum gravity.”
Ben blinked.
Sheldon sighed and tried again, “I’m doing math problems.”
Ben gave a tentaive smile and displayed his own journal, “I drew a horse!”
Sheldon looked at the drawing, “Ah. I see. Though, if I may, I would recommend in your future artistic endevaors that you keep within the preameters of reality, as there are, in fact, no horses that are the color purple.”
“You talk funny.” Ben giggled, wiggling about in his seat. Sheldon didn’t even know how to respond to that. Ben, however, just continued, “D’you want to see what else I drew?”
Sheldon was more than prepared to tell the child ‘no’ but the eyes held him. He sighed, “I suppose if I must…”
Ben flipped through the pages, pointing to this one or that, not elebaorating futher but obviously indicating his favorites. Sheldon was greatful for the silence, as it had been his limited experience that children were a noisy breed.
Once Ben had finished flipping through the book he looked at Sheldon, head tilted to one side, “Are you alone?”
“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”
Ben took in a deep breath, his whole body moving with it, as he rubbed at his nose, “I’m with my Mom.”
“Oh?”
Ben nodded and, as Sheldon thought, he pointed to the young woman on the other side of the car. Sheldon, once more, had nothing to say to this, but Ben didn’t seem to mind as he had instead managed to weasel one of his tiny hands between them to take hold of Sheldon’s journal.
He flipped thorugh it, turning it this way and that, face scrunched up with confusion and Sheldon scowled. Great. Germs. Children were not only noisy, they were well known for being full of germs. Tiny walking bacteria farms.
He thought to snatch the book back and rub it down quickly with the sanitizer in his bag but, once more, Ben beat him to the punch, looking at him with those eyes, voice soft, “I like this one.”
Sheldon looked at the page and his face went blank.
“She’s pretty.”
It was a simple drawing. Just lines and curves. He could barely remember drawing it. But it was her, all the same.
“That’s Penny.”
Sheldon hated how his voice sounded when he said that.
Ben’s lips jerked to one side and then the other, as if he was thinking hard. At last he asked innocently, “Is she with you?”
“No,” Sheldon breathed, “No. She’s very far away.”
“Are you going to see her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Just…because.”
Ben closed the journal and pushed it back towards Sheldon, “You miss her?”
Sheldon put the journal away and, not looking at him, said sharply, “You’re awful nosy, aren’t you?”
“What’s that mean?”
“What’s what mean?”
“Nosy.”
“It means you are of an annoyingly inquisitive disposition.”
Ben blinked again.
Once more Sheldon struggled to answer without coming off as ‘an ass’ as his friends would say, “It means you’re being rude.”
“Rude?”
“Bad.”
“Oh.” Ben drew this word out, making it almost musical before it finally trailed off into silence. Sheldon waited, thinking that, as the discussion had ended, the boy would leave his company.
Ben, however, did nothing of the sort and seemed more than happy to swing his feet back and forth, head rested back against the seat. Sheldon shot a look towards his mother, but she had finally become fully immersed in her book.
Sheldon huffed, irritated, but resigned as he looked out the window. Besides being noisy and full of germs, children were well known for their short attention spans. Ben would grow bored and leave soon enough, of this Sheldon was positive.
As Sheldon looked out the window he suddenly found himself overcome with exhaustion. He closed his eyes and could have sworn he smelled fabric softener.
Part 4: Sheldon
Author: she_burns1
Pairing: Sheldon/Penny, Leonard/Penny
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,912
Summary: Future!fic! Sheldon, Penny, and Leonard all thought they knew exactly what they wanted, but with a big change on the way, all three begin to question themselves, and each of them is lead in a direction they had not anticipated.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The plot is all mine. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thanks again to everyone for reading and commenting! I'm glad people seem to be enjoying the story! And don't worry, the mysteries of the laundry room are soon to be revealed!
Back to: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
Is love supposed to last throughout all time, or is it like trains changing at random stops. If I loved her, how could I leave her? If I felt that way then, how come I don't feel anything now? - Jeff Melvoin
He’d been on the train over four hours now, and with each click of track, he found his mind growing more at ease. Better. Lighter. As if a weight had been taken from him, his thought process unblocked.
And his view from the left side of the train was breathtaking. Sure, at first he had had to go through the monotony of seeing a concrete jungle of blandness, but it had eventually given way to a scenic beauty that was, essentially, impossible to describe.
Slopes and rolls of land that were aesthetically pleasing, with colors that varied all over the color spectrum. And the sky, well, the sky had just grown more brilliant as the sun rose. Such a remarkable blue.
Sheldon admired it for only a moment or two before finally drawing out his journal again. This time he found it easier to steer himself back towards his work and he took an almost vicious pleasure in the fact. Leaving had obviously been the right thing to do.
His pen worked over the paper sharply and quickly, almost to the point of abuse, as idea after idea occurred to him. Each equation seemed more surmountable than the last, and he was starting to think that he should have done all his work on trains years ago.
Oh! Another idea, mobile work stations! He made a quick notation to one side of his work, knowing he would want to come back to that later. Besides, he didn’t want to get too side tracked - he felt like he was getting close to a breakthrough here. Even more so than what he had accomplished on his sojourn to the Artic.
Maybe location was key.
Not being locked down by frivolity was certainly one. To think, he had wasted so much time.
How many hours had he lost to paint ball or to Halo or to those other childish endeavors that, at the end of the day, were utterly meaningless. They certainly didn’t bring him anything. No Nobel Prize, that was for sure.
Leonard, Wolowitz, Koothrappali - look where such distractions had led them. Not one of them would ever accomplish anything. At least, not anything of real note. He was the only one of them with the vision, the cunning to make it, to succeed, to get what he wanted.
What did he want?
Sheldon’s writing slowed and he blinked as if snapping out of a trance.
The question had come to him, unbidden and so startling, it was as if someone had spoken it aloud.
What did he want?
He shook his head.
That was simple. What he wanted. He knew what he wanted. Of course he did. What a silly question. It shouldn’t have even made him pause.
He wanted a Nobel Prize.
A Nobel Prize, answers to the unanswerable questions that string theory presented…maybe some recognition, though, honestly, it wasn’t something he required. He could really care less about what people thought of him.
That much is obvious, his thoughts stated and he frowned, confused. Interesting. Sarcasm in his own mind? Directed at himself?
He looked around the train suspiciously. He highly doubted that any of the passengers on the train were telepathic (not to mention, he didn’t given any credible credence to telepathy, despite what some of his favorite comics hypostasized), which could only mean the thought had come from within his own mind.
He found it odd that such a thing could happen, but then, his mind could be called into question as of late, despite what work he had just managed to complete.
Something was…wrong.
Okay, no, in point of fact, several things were wrong but he didn’t really want to go through the list.
He decided to just focus on just the one and ran it over again in his mind. He didn’t care what others thought of him. This much was obvious. Clearly a reference to the fact that he had not only left so abruptly, but that he had also left only a few weeks before his best friend’s nuptials. Nuptials that he himself was to take part in as best man.
Best man.
The title irritated him for numerous reasons.
There was the fact that the term in and of itself was ridiculous - how does one measure a ‘best’ man? Is it measured by years of friendship, by the integrity of the person receiving the title, or by the person’s merits over time and so on?
And then there were the tasks the person thrust into this role was to undertake -helping the groom get prepared for the wedding, giving a toast at the reception, making sure all the arrangements for the couple were taken care of - it was like being a glorified babysitter.
Sheldon was positive that Howard would be a much more suitable candidate for the position than himself. Besides, the man had practically begged to plan the bachelor party and frankly, Sheldon was relieved he would not be there for that.
Whatever Howard Wolowitz cooked up for a bachelor party was sure to end in gratuitous nudity, tears, and possible jail time.
And the notes Sheldon had left Howard were very thorough. So thorough that anyone with them could easily take over the role. Even Winkle, with her limited learning capacity, could, if need be.
And Sheldon highly doubted that there would be a need. Howard would most likely rise to the occasion - and years of friendship with Howard had taken there toll, as even he saw the pun therein. Penny would do well to warn her bridesmaids.
Penny.
“What are you drawing?”
Sheldon sat up, startled, and turned to see who had spoken.
Besides himself, there were three other passengers in the train car he was seated in. The first was a harried-looking young woman to the far other side of the car, who alternated from looking out the window to looking at her book. The second was an elderly black woman who slept peacefully across from him. And the third was now on the seat to his immediate right, looking down curiously at his journal.
It was a young boy who, if looks could determine anything, was most likely the son of the young woman. They shared the same fair complexion and dark black hair. Though the boy certainly seemed more carefree as he looked up at Sheldon with big eyes.
Big eyes that were the same color as Penny’s.
Sheldon swallowed, and for some reason, found his voice difficult to find, “And you are?”
“Ben.”
Sheldon just nodded blankly and Ben asked again, “What are you drawing?”
“I’m not drawing. I’m working on an idea stemming from the holographic principle that I believe will better justify string theory and, as an added bonus, show more inherent flaws in the idea of loop quantum gravity.”
Ben blinked.
Sheldon sighed and tried again, “I’m doing math problems.”
Ben gave a tentaive smile and displayed his own journal, “I drew a horse!”
Sheldon looked at the drawing, “Ah. I see. Though, if I may, I would recommend in your future artistic endevaors that you keep within the preameters of reality, as there are, in fact, no horses that are the color purple.”
“You talk funny.” Ben giggled, wiggling about in his seat. Sheldon didn’t even know how to respond to that. Ben, however, just continued, “D’you want to see what else I drew?”
Sheldon was more than prepared to tell the child ‘no’ but the eyes held him. He sighed, “I suppose if I must…”
Ben flipped through the pages, pointing to this one or that, not elebaorating futher but obviously indicating his favorites. Sheldon was greatful for the silence, as it had been his limited experience that children were a noisy breed.
Once Ben had finished flipping through the book he looked at Sheldon, head tilted to one side, “Are you alone?”
“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”
Ben took in a deep breath, his whole body moving with it, as he rubbed at his nose, “I’m with my Mom.”
“Oh?”
Ben nodded and, as Sheldon thought, he pointed to the young woman on the other side of the car. Sheldon, once more, had nothing to say to this, but Ben didn’t seem to mind as he had instead managed to weasel one of his tiny hands between them to take hold of Sheldon’s journal.
He flipped thorugh it, turning it this way and that, face scrunched up with confusion and Sheldon scowled. Great. Germs. Children were not only noisy, they were well known for being full of germs. Tiny walking bacteria farms.
He thought to snatch the book back and rub it down quickly with the sanitizer in his bag but, once more, Ben beat him to the punch, looking at him with those eyes, voice soft, “I like this one.”
Sheldon looked at the page and his face went blank.
“She’s pretty.”
It was a simple drawing. Just lines and curves. He could barely remember drawing it. But it was her, all the same.
“That’s Penny.”
Sheldon hated how his voice sounded when he said that.
Ben’s lips jerked to one side and then the other, as if he was thinking hard. At last he asked innocently, “Is she with you?”
“No,” Sheldon breathed, “No. She’s very far away.”
“Are you going to see her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Just…because.”
Ben closed the journal and pushed it back towards Sheldon, “You miss her?”
Sheldon put the journal away and, not looking at him, said sharply, “You’re awful nosy, aren’t you?”
“What’s that mean?”
“What’s what mean?”
“Nosy.”
“It means you are of an annoyingly inquisitive disposition.”
Ben blinked again.
Once more Sheldon struggled to answer without coming off as ‘an ass’ as his friends would say, “It means you’re being rude.”
“Rude?”
“Bad.”
“Oh.” Ben drew this word out, making it almost musical before it finally trailed off into silence. Sheldon waited, thinking that, as the discussion had ended, the boy would leave his company.
Ben, however, did nothing of the sort and seemed more than happy to swing his feet back and forth, head rested back against the seat. Sheldon shot a look towards his mother, but she had finally become fully immersed in her book.
Sheldon huffed, irritated, but resigned as he looked out the window. Besides being noisy and full of germs, children were well known for their short attention spans. Ben would grow bored and leave soon enough, of this Sheldon was positive.
As Sheldon looked out the window he suddenly found himself overcome with exhaustion. He closed his eyes and could have sworn he smelled fabric softener.