Leonard could feel the goggles slipping down his nose. It was hot in the lab when the laser had been running all day. He took a deep breath, pushed the goggles up one final time, and ran the last experiment.

He glanced at the clock but he knew from the way the light was casting shadows that it was nearly time to go. Time to pack up the lab, power down all the equipment, file the notes from today. Time to walk over to Sheldon's office and wait for him to tie up the loose ends of his day, time to walk to his car and drive home in the fading California sun. Time to stop off at the Indian place they both liked and pick up the take-out, time to go home and relax.

He shrugged into his jean jacket, adjusted the hood from his sweatshirt so it laid flat against the jacket, and slung his bag over his shoulder. It was a little later than usual, his last experiment had run long. Sheldon should be fine, he tended to just work right up until he showed up, which could be late and frequently was. He knew that Sheldon had worked his tendency to be late into his schedule.

He walked across campus to the building where Sheldon's office was, enjoying the mild California weather all these years after leaving his native New Jersey, but it wasn't easy to forget those bone chilling winters, the way your fingertips would get red and cold, the way you could almost never warm up.

The hallway to Sheldon's office was lit with subdued ceiling lights, and he tread across the gray carpet. No one was here, not on this floor. It was quiet. When he got to the door he knocked and waited for Sheldon to yell to him to come in. There was no answer, and he knocked again, slightly louder. No answer. Leonard's brow furrowed, and he began to tick over the possibilities in his head. Had Sheldon left with Howard or Raj without telling him? That didn't seem likely. What was more likely was that he was in a meeting somewhere else and hadn't let him know. He took his phone out and checked for messages but there weren't any. The more he thought of this the less likely it seemed. Sheldon was frequently called to meetings that ran late, but he always let him know. Always. Without fail.

Where was he?

He knocked again, his fist pounding on the door.

"Sheldon!" No answer. He opened the door and went in. The room was dark. When his eyes adjusted he saw someone huddled in the corner of the office. It was Sheldon, his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them, his head down. Leonard blinked. Looking around, he noticed the disarray of the room. Papers knocked to the floor, the desk chair overturned, the legs pointing toward the ceiling. He advanced cautiously.

"Sheldon?" he said, his name almost a whisper. No response. He reached out to touch his arm and when he did Sheldon jerked away and looked up at him, pulling closer to the corner, pulling closer into himself. In the dim light he saw the blood that had dried on Sheldon's bruised lips. Sheldon was looking at him, his blue eyes wide and frightened, but he didn't seem to be recognizing him at all.

"Sheldon, hey, it's me, Leonard," he said, lowering himself so he was almost at eye level with him. It was then that he noticed the tears in his shirt, the quickness and shallowness of his breathing.

"Leonard?" Sheldon said, questioning the reality of Leonard kneeling in front of him.

"Yeah, buddy, it's me,"

He put his head down again, and Leonard noticed how messy his hair was, how it fell across his forehead in shaggy bangs instead of being neatly brushed to the side.

"What happened?" Leonard said, talking to the top of his head. He wouldn't look up, he wouldn't uncurl himself from the little ball he was in, he wouldn't get out of the corner of his darkened office. He wouldn't answer him. Leonard licked his lips, surmising the possibilities of what had happened. Someone, or someones, had beaten him up, robbed him, maybe...in here. Obviously in here, based on the state of the room.

"Are you okay? Are you, were you mugged?" Leonard said, and got no response. The expensive laptop computer was still on the desk, although upside down and near the edge, ready to totter over any second. The expensive collectibles were still here, the book shelves that displayed them were undisturbed. Did he still have his cell phone and wallet?

Unsure of what to do, he stood up and flipped the light on. He righted the chair and moved the laptop to a more secure position on the desk. He gathered up the white snowdrift of papers and stacked them neatly and set them on the desk. Then there was nothing left to do but try and deal with Sheldon.

He still had his knees drawn up to his chest, he still hugged them tightly, and now he could see the marks and bruising on his hands and forearms. He still had his head down, his face covered.

"Sheldon," he said, trying for firm but failing, his name wavering. Leonard could feel himself start to shake. What had happened and why? He couldn't shake, he couldn't fall apart. He had to deal with this, and he was probably the only one who could. He took a deep breath, resolving to fall apart later if he needed to fall apart.

"Sheldon," he said again, and kneeled down next to him, put his hand on his arm, and he felt the immediate tensing of his muscles at the contact. Sheldon wasn't generally good with physical contact but it wasn't like this.

"C'mon, we need to go, we need to..." Still he wasn't moving, he wasn't responding. Was he going to have to drag him from the office? He couldn't leave him here. He wished wildly for Penny. Penny would know how to coax him up and out of here, Penny could get him to talk and tell them what happened.

But Penny wasn't here. He wouldn't call her. He could deal with this.

He put his thumb under Sheldon's chin and lifted his face up, and he saw the beginnings of the deep purple bruising around both eyes, the line of blood from his mouth like a cartoon vampire, and Sheldon squeezed his eyes shut. He was so totally cut off, so deep inside himself, his distant autistic tendencies serving him well right now.

"Sheldon, you need to get up now. We're going to go home. Stand up or I'll drag you out of here," Leonard said, standing, pulling on Sheldon's arm. Still, he wouldn't move, he shrugged from his grasp. Damn it.

Leonard leaned against the wall, closed his eyes and slid down it to sit on the rug beside Sheldon. What should he do? He didn't want to force him to move but they couldn't stay here all night. They should be going to the hospital, because who knew how injured he was? There were bruises everywhere he could see.

"Sheldon, listen to me. You're alright now, whatever happened, whoever did this...they're gone. It's me, Leonard. I'm gonna bring you home, okay? Okay?"

Maybe it was his words or his soft tone, but Sheldon opened his eyes and seemed to comprehend now that it was just him, just his roommate and colleague and friend. He watched him swallow hard and take a deep breath and he answered him in a broken scratched voice.

"Okay,"