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Collide, or, The Cooper-Ballard Convergence	By : FemmeBono Category: 1 through F > The Big Bang Theory Views: 4469 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Big Bang Theory, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
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Cht 7

I worry I won’t see your face

Light up again
Even the best fall down sometimes,

Even the wrong words seem to rhyme

“Leonard, I’m telling you, something is up,” Penny said as they ascended the stairs to her apartment one evening. “Why else would he give me the third degree about some guy Whitney told me she’s going out with tonight?”
“Because it means there’s an unknown variable thrown into his constant universe,” Leonard reasoned. “Sheldon just hates change, and if Whitney’s not there tonight it will throw off his whole schedule; he’s gotten used to her being around. All that’s going to happen is he’ll be damned unpleasant for the rest of the evening.”
“Leonard, I swear, for someone who’s such a freaking genius, you can be really obtuse sometimes,” Penny shook her head.
Penny’s head snapped up as she heard someone coming down the stairs ahead of them. “Oh Whitney hi! Wow, you look amazing.”
The trio stopped on the third floor landing where they met. Leonard grudgingly admitted to himself that if Sheldon really did have a deal, it would be easy to have one for Whitney. Meanwhile, Penny’s keen fashion eye took in Whitney’s dress, a nude body-hugging number that wrapped around her shoulders and accentuated every petite curve. Her blue eyes smoldered with smoky shadow and she topped off the entire look with a nude and black patent spectator heel that had Penny practically salivating for the credit card she had nearly maxed out already.
“Thanks,” Whitney replied unconsciously rubbing her hands against the stretchy fabric. “My palms are sweating like crazy and I feel faintly queasy to be honest.”
“Oh sweetie you’ll be fine!” Penny soothed. “First dates are always the worst, but if you need me too I’ll text you about half an hour in, and if it’s not going well by that point you can beg off and say the text was from a friend who needs you desperately, and you have to leave.”
“I would really appreciate that,” Whitney said pleadingly. “I hate blind dates, and I barely know the girl who set me up with him, so I don’t know about her judgment either. I’ve got to get out of here though, or I’m going to be late and he’s supposed to be here soon! Thanks for the out. I’ll text back if I don’t need it.”
“Aw, well good luck!” Penny winked and watched Whitney go, then turned to Leonard. “If Sheldon saw her in that get-up, he would bust something, and I don’t mean a gasket.”

As it happened, Sheldon spent another evening in, alone. Penny and Leonard were already ensconced in Penny’s apartment—probably having coitus—and Howard and Bernadette were out having dinner with Raj and Howard’s cousin Leah, who had flown in for a visit. Since it was a Friday night, Sheldon was consoling himself with orange chicken from Szechuan Palace and a game of Super Mario Brothers on his ancient Nintendo system.
He heard voices, his keen Vulcan hearing picking up the dulcet tones of his upstairs neighbor mingled with the deeper tones of what must be her date. A glance at the clock told him it was 8:30, which even Sheldon’s limited knowledge of social conventions told him was a bit early for a date to be ending. So when he heard Whitney’s voice raise an octave and a sudden thump against the wall of their apartment, Sheldon rose, pausing the game so he could hear more effectively.
“I said no, dammit!” he heard Whitney as the sounds continued, followed by a grunt.
“Oooh you little bitch!” growled the male voice, punctuated with a sharp crack and another thump.

Whitney hit the floor, and shook her head once as her vision went fuzzy. She didn’t feel the sting of the slap, but the vague awareness that somehow the asshole had landed a blow. Just as suddenly as she hit the floor, a door opened and she heard Mike again.
“Look punk, just mind your business. We’re just having a little disagreement--” and as soon as the words left his mouth, Mike’s legs tripped over her prone body and went airborne. He hit the top two stairs and rolled the rest of the way down.
“Ow! God dammit, you little fucker!” he yelled, bracing himself with the handrail as he limped upwards again. Penny’s door swung open and she and Leonard came running out. If Whitney hadn’t been on the floor in pain, she might have been rolling in laughter. Penny was wearing her pink bathrobe and there was Leonard gaping at the scene in Penny’s matching lilac robe. Sheldon stood over Whitney, his eyes not leaving Mike’s.
At the entrance of the two newcomers, though, Mike simply swiped the back of his hand across his now swollen mouth and spat on the carpeted floor. “Fuck it. I don’t need this, and you’re not worth it,” he pointed at Whitney. And favoring his injured leg, he limped around the corner, his curses fading out as he left.
“Do you believe me now?” Penny asked Leonard as Whitney stumbled to get up.
“Yeah, I kinda do,” Leonard marveled.
Strong hands grasped Whitney’s upper arms and righted her, leaning her gently against the wall where she flattened her hands to support herself. Her legs were too shaky still, and all she could do was stand gaping at the others, her chest heaving with shallow breaths.
“But I’m home,” was all she could say, “I should be safe here.” And with that, her voice broke. She stopped talking and just stared, silent tears trailing down her cheeks.
Sheldon took in the cold, clammy skin, rapid breathing and her dilated pupils and kept his grip firm as he guided her into the apartment. Penny and Leonard followed closely behind. They said not a word as Sheldon lowered Whitney into his spot and wrapped her with the throw that was draped over the back of the couch.
“I’m gonna make some cider,” he said, crossing to the kitchen, his Texas twang belying his emotions as he jerkily opened a canister of cinnamon sticks. Once the jar was opened, he took a slow, deep breath and steadied himself.
Leonard watched his friend’s back as he exhaled and stood amazed at the fact that his favorite frustrating robot was a real boy after all. In the hallway Sheldon’s face had looked murderous—until he looked down at Whitney. In that one unguarded instance, concern clearly warred with anger and something approaching adoration. Leonard was now sure of it. But what in the world had brought it on?
“Whitney, what happened?” Leonard asked as Penny tucked the blanket more securely around the shaken girl. Penny removed Whitney’s shoes and brought her feet up gently. Whitney took the cue from Penny’s guiding hands and tucked her feet under her on the cushion.
“He…he, um, tried…” Whitney’s voice was still shaking as she fought for control again. She tried to slow her breathing and clasped her hands together under the throw to try and stop the shaking. Then she started again. “I wasn’t having a great time at dinner, so I took your text and begged off. He brought me back here and told me I should blow off whoever needed me and we should just go upstairs.” At this her voice hitched, but she took another steadying breath and reached out of the blanket to take the cup Sheldon was holding out for her. Taking a careful sip, she thanked him and continued. “When we started up the stairs, his hands were freaking everywhere and I told him to stop and just leave. I said I was going back to my room, and he could hit the bricks, but he wouldn’t stop. Then he slammed me against the wall and I kneed him in the jewels. All that did was piss him off though, and he backhanded me.”
Penny tsked as she gingerly touched the side of Whitney’s mouth and cheek, which were bright red and still swelling. Leonard grabbed a bag of mixed vegetables out of the freezer and held it out for Whitney. She thanked him and settled her cup of cider on the end table.
Sheldon spoke up for the first time, “I’ll call the police.”
“Wait! What?” Whitney spluttered.
“What’s confusing about that?” Sheldon questioned, looking first at Leonard, then Penny. “That menace clearly assaulted and threatened you, and he deserves it. I would say we should let Penny go Nebraskan native on him, but we’ll see if the authorities are effective enough without emasculating him completely. However gratifying that might be…” he added. With that, Sheldon picked up the phone and started dialing.
“Sweetie, I never thought I’d say it, but Sheldon’s right,” Penny said, stroking Whitney’s arm. There were bruises forming there too, and Penny was certain it wasn’t from Sheldon’s hands. The finger marks were thick and short. “He hit you, he wasn’t stopping when you told him to, and who knows what might have happened if Sheldon hadn’t shown up.”
The sense of this seeped into Whitney’s shocked system and something in her gently unfolded at the thought that Sheldon had indeed come at the perfect time. She had been left wounded and had frozen at a time when she had needed her wits about her. That had never happened before, but the one prevailing thought was that this was home, this was not a combat zone, and she should be safe. It shattered her to think that even here she needed her guard up. Thank god for Sheldon though, she thought.

It took some convincing, but after the police had come and taken their reports, Penny, Leonard and Sheldon had convinced her to stay the night in 4A. Once that battle was won, they fought a brief one over whether Whitney would sleep in Leonard’s bed or on the couch. But Whitney had won that one, and curled up with her head on a pillow in Sheldon’s spot.
Leonard and Penny would discuss at length the fact that Sheldon had not only defended her, fought off an attacker, but also placed her in his spot of all places, and then took care of her afterwards.

Somewhere in the night, Sheldon’s sensitive hearing alerted him again. He rose, this time silently, and padded out to the living room where he saw Whitney thrashing about in her borrowed Flash t-shirt. The throw had been kicked to the floor, and she was whimpering pitifully.
“We have to break contact; there’s too many of them,” she was saying. Of all the things he knew, Sheldon did not know what to do with this. Missy had been a sleepwalker, so he knew not to wake one, but this was altogether different and out of his realm. He reached out a tentative hand and gently shook her shoulder, hoping when she roused, she would be cognizant enough to know where she was.
He shook her twice more before she woke. She landed on her feet, beside the couch, hands up defensively and eyes wide. A sheen of sweat glistened over her in the dim light and Sheldon tried to ignore the way the t-shirt clung to her damp skin.
“Whitney?” he asked gently.
“Sheldon?” she said tremulously. “Sheldon.” Whitney dropped her hands to her sides and then raised them again to rub them together.
“Do you know where you are?” he asked slowly. He stood still so as not to alarm her, but he wanted to grasp her and hold her close. She had proven to be open to his touching her, but he inferred that now may be an exception to that rule.
“Yes, I’m coming back to earth now I think,” she said, as her legs collapsed under her and she landed back on the couch. She wrapped her arms around her and hunched over her knees. “Sorry I woke you.”
She wiped at her cheek and sniffed. “I seem to have a bad habit of doing that, Sheldon, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Sheldon said, sitting down next to her. The middle cushion felt weird, but he was more concerned about his friend. The way Sheldon considered it, she needed the stability more right now. It was what moved him to put her there earlier. If Whitney needed an anchor, she could borrow his. Borrowing from that premise, he surmised that he might have a way to make her feel safer as well.
“I think you might be better off in a bed after all,” he began, holding up a hand when she started to protest. “No, listed. I have the perfect solution.”
With that, he stood and offered her his hand. When she placed her fingers in his, he curled his hand around hers gently and led her down the hallway. Instead of continuing to Leonard’s room, however, Sheldon led her to his bed and eased her down onto it.
“Sheldon I can’t kick you out of your bed,” she tried again.
“Nonsense,” Sheldon shushed her. He nudged her back onto his pillow and began tucking her in like a mummy. “You have a night light so you can see everything, there’s a lightsaber under the right side of the bed, and you can borrow my 24-hour bag in case of an emergency. It’s the black knapsack in the closet labeled, ’24-Hour Bag’. I have a back-up bag in the living room, so I don’t mind loaning you mine. Do you want me to sing ‘Soft Kitty’?”
“’Soft Kitty’?”
“It’s a song my mother sings when I’m sick. I can sing it to you if you like. I think traumatized is a kind of sick.”
Whitney gave a wan smile. “Sure, why not?”
“Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur. Happy kitty, sleepy kitty, purr, purr, purr,” Sheldon sang.
“Sheldon?”
“Yes?”
“I just—will you stay here? Please?” Their eyes met in the soft light, blue to blue. And gingerly, Sheldon’s fingers ghosted over the fringe of hair that fell over her brow.
“Sure.”
When Whitney threw the covers back and scooted over, Sheldon’s self-consciousness reared its head and he slid awkwardly in beside her. Then she curled her tiny frame up next to his body, her face pressed to his arm as she draped hers over his waist. Sheldon let out the breath he had not realized he was holding and let the warmth steal over him, very dimly aware that this was highly unusual in his paradigm. He was not only touching, but cuddling. There was a person in his room. In a very few minutes, however, he was fast asleep and none of it mattered.

Lyrics from Howie Day's "Collide"
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Collide, or, The Cooper-Ballard Convergence