Chapter Text
She’s only ever been to New York twice in her life, once for an all-girls’ road trip and the other for an elopement that she chickened out of in the last minute. The past few months had been a carousel of rehearsal drills and press calls. The city looks different through the shaded windows in the limo that chauffeurs her to and from her hotel and the Orpheum theatre. Stepping through the revolving doors, she always has to blink twice when she sees her name on billboard, now strung up in lights for opening night, just a few hours away. As the driver pulls up to the back entrance curb, she can see a few critics lurking outside the main entrance, chatting.
Craig had been replaced since she phoned in about their little scuffle, and sent in pictures of her bruised lip. That was when she knew that her character, Laine, was pivotal and that she was the star. Doubt crept in. Could she do it? Could she stun the critics and impel the audiences? Broadway was so raw. There were no special effects or rigorous editing. It was just her and the spotlight. She had to be an enchantress rather than an actress to please everyone. The new guy who was taking over the role of Jack was tan and well-mannered. They did a few chemistry readings before he got the role, but her heart wasn’t in it. During rehearsal breaks, she kept fiddling with her phone, drafting various text messages to Sheldon but then deleting them. Thinking of you. Hope you’re feeling better. The city is so magical at night. I hate sleeping alone. I can’t eat Chinese takeout without thinking of you. I’m scared. I’m so sorry. Leonard had sent his well wishes, apologizing that he wouldn’t be able to fly over to New York. It was fine with her, familiar faces in the crowd would do nothing but faze her, pull her out of Laine’s mind.
In her dressing room, she takes a few deep breaths and stares at her reflection in the powder-stained mirror. She fidgets with the red wig and smooths out the black silk night gown that cascades way past her ankles. Sheldon had only seen her in that little low-budget production of A Streetcar Named Desire, but he was so enamoured by it, generous with his compliments regarding her performance in the weeks following it. This was a whole new ball game. This was everything she had ever wanted and worked for. She will not ruin it by thinking about a guy. This was her moment and she’ll enjoy every second of it.
The curtain rises, and the first act kicks in. The theatre is packed, and she tries not to search through the faces whenever she faces the audience. Laine has possessed her. She speaks haughtily with a faux midwestern accent. Takes sly, seductive steps around Jack while clutching a cigarette between two fingers, crushing the bud against the wallpaper just before the scene ends. Jack is entranced, the audience is silent. She has them all in the palm of her hand. She breaks character for a split second in the third act, when Jack flings a beer bottle in her direction and tells her she’s a whore. She lets out a real scream, piercing and guttural. But in the heat of the moment, her emotions are fused with Laine’s. An idea buzzes, and she decides to continue with the improvisation. She lets herself sink to the floor as she breaks down in a fit of hysteria. If being a whore means that I’m someone that takes what I want, then that’s what I’ll be. The words sear her tongue, and the audience gasps when Laine finds Jack’s dead body next to an empty bottle of pills in the last scene. The applause is deafening, people rising to their feet and yelling encore. The cast joins hands and bows, and they step aside to let her take a solo one. There are flowers all over her dressing room, it’s so old school and cheesy that she can’t help but laugh, tucking a few petals into the hair of the extras. When she slips out the backdoor leading into the alley for some autumn breeze, someone taps her on the shoulder.
She almost doesn’t recognize him at first. He’s dressed in a velvet burgundy blazer with matching dress pants, sporting a pair of brown wire rimmed glasses. A dark blue handkerchief embossed with the star fleet logo peeks out of his lapel, the only indication of the past.
“Sheldon?” She squeaks, nearly toppling into an empty trash can.
“My prognosis was accurate. You always need a few minutes away from the crowd, despite claiming to be an extrovert.”
“You came.”
“I thought it’d be better if I didn’t inform you advance. It occurred to me that my presence might affect your performance.”
She steps forward, resting a hand tentatively on his shoulder. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re here. Did you like the play?”
He catches her hand in his, runs a thumb down her palm. “My eidetic memory wouldn’t let me forget the promise we made when you first got the role. I’m a man of my word if nothing else. As to whether I liked it, your performance is the first thing I’ve come across that has challenged my preconceived bias in regards to a career in the arts. You were spectacular, even from the mezzanine.”
She stares at the familiar stranger in front of her. The new look is sexy nerd chic and she’s digging every bit of it. He squirms a little under her gaze, adjusting his glasses. Something about it this at her heartstrings. She never dreamed of meeting a guy who would put himself on the line like this, wishing to earn her affections, but would covet just a smile.
“What’s with the new look?”
He fidgets for a moment before meeting her gaze. “I’ve always been slightly short sighted, but have always worn contact lenses. I thought a change would be a nice visual metaphor for what I’m about to propose. I’ve been thinking a lot about this affiliation we’ve been embarking on, albeit wrought with many speed bumps. Needless to say, our vices might have detracted from its full potential. I believe we may have a better shot, now that we’re past them.”
“Sheldon, I don’t want you to change for me.”
“Penny, you deserve a partner who’s ready to be part of your world. A socially deficient hermit will only hold you back, and to say that will be a tragedy is an understatement. You have made many alterations in your life to accommodate me, and it’s time I do the same. Think of this as Sheldon 2.0, new and improved.”
She laughs, a throaty one that’s half sob. “I like that. I’m just so happy to see you. And guess what?” She pulls out a badge from her purse and waggles it in front of him. “Two months sober.”
“I knew you could do it.” His voice is quiet, sheepish. “I have some good news of my own. I’ve made headway with dark matter research and Oxford has invited me to do a seminar. I was hoping you’d accompany me to England. They have an excellent rail network around the countryside that I intend to thoroughly explore.”
“All the chocolate in the world can’t stop me." He rolls his eyes and she pulls him close. "Hey, I need something to stave off the cravings. Don’t think that body alone will do it for me.”
*
The afterparty ballroom is decked out with an overflowing buffet table and a full dance floor, which she tugs Sheldon onto.
“Hey, Penny!” Calls the director. “Thought you didn’t have a plus one.”
“Got lucky, I guess.” She calls back. So absurdly lucky.
A new song starts, the rift somehow caverns and winds her as the lyrics croon words that seem so tailored for them. Cos you’re beautiful inside. And he is, achingly so. As she rests her cheek against his shoulder, the twinkling sky gleams above them through the sky roof. If she lifts a hand, she might be able to pluck Polaris from its obsidian canvas, carve it into a pendant to string around her neck. The dark had never been so bright, but still she hopes the fairy lights will come back on soon, so that she can see him. Fully, unobstructed. She couldn’t promise him forever, not just yet. But almost forever she could do, and almost forever was a long time. And a long time was enough for now. She might talk. He might kiss her. Or maybe they’d do neither, and that would be fine too. They fit their hands together for a proper waltz as the chorus kicks in, and she feels a strange pull, an amalgamation. He gasps a little, and she knows he feels it too. In every single universe, versions of themselves are magnetizing, reaching forth and closing the distance. She watches as the emotions flit through his eyes, until the body subdues the mind, and he leans down to kiss her. They take in short, controlled breaths as their lips settle into a rhythm, tongues loosening clenched jaws. She pulls away after what feels like a life time, as he lowers her into a dip. She basks in the sprawl of stars bared by the sky roof, her body almost weightless, levitating through the clouds and atmosphere, tethered by warm hands on her hips, the only thing firmer than gravity.