Summary: Sex isn't the ultimate expression of love, but Sheldon discovers he wants all the intimacy he can handle with a woman he can't have forever. Sheldon/Miranda, post "I'm Fine," pre "In Which We Say Goodbye."

Rating: T-M for sexual scenarios.

Author's Note: "I'm Fine" is one of the most beautiful episodes of PP I've seen. I loved it, especially since it focused on Sheldon, who has been one of my favorite characters in the show.

First part is rated T, part two may be rated M (I will change the rating if this happens). This has the potential to be a four-parter, but will not exceed that.

Reviews are very much appreciated! I can't be the only one out here who loves these two!

"I'll have the You-Can-Do-Anything salad," Miranda orders with a smirk that makes Sheldon smile. He's already ordered, and watches her tap her manicured nails against the menu as she speaks with the teenage waitress. His hands are clasped together, resting passively on the tabletop as he waits for the Miranda to finish her order so they can be alone.

"Instead of the vinaigrette dressing, can I get ranch?" When the waitress nods, Miranda smiles and hands her menu over. "Thank you."

Sheldon smiles as the waitress leaves and comments, "You weren't kidding."

"About the names? Optimistic and organic. Totally California." Miranda smirks. "It's better than a You're-Gonna-Die-Eating-This burger or Forget-Your-Diet chicken sandwich. More motivational."

"Just as many calories, I'm sure."

"And you call yourself an optimist." Miranda avoids his piercing gaze, gentle and undemanding but one that intimidates her all the same. The pain in Sheldon's eyes worries her, but she refuses to look at it for very long, knowing that when she looks back at him the pain will still be there.

"Miranda?"

She gazes up at him and smiles weakly.

"I have a proposition for you." He reaches out his hand to her and smiles when she accepts it. Her hand feels warm and soft against his, and he squeezes it with another sincere smile. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Whatever you're thinking of right now."

Sheldon chuckles and tenderly caresses her thumb, running circles with the soft pad of his thumb. Her hand relaxes in his, but she doesn't pull away, and Sheldon is thankful her gaze hasn't left his. "Have you ever been to the opera?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Do you want to go?"

"I love the orchestra…" Miranda shrugs and turns the tables on him, her forefinger brushing against the tops of his knuckles. The simple touch electrifies his senses, and he feels a tightening of his chest, a shortness of breath, and he's once again reminded how deeply he cares for this woman.

"But you don't want to go?"

"It's not that."

"So what is it?" Sheldon worries that she'll say no, but she still hasn't avoided his gaze. "Do you want to do something else?"

"I don't have anything to wear to an opera," Miranda admits quietly. Frustration doesn't line her voice, but embarrassment, and she squeezes his hand a little tighter. "I don't…I don't feel the most comfortable."

His job is to notice the small details. He prides himself in that skill. So when she glances down at her chest, Sheldon immediately knows what she's saying. "We can just stay in if you'd like. I can cook for you."

Her eyes light up and she smiles enough for the sadness on her face to fade away. "You can cook?"

"I can cook. You sound surprised."

"Is your cooking any good?"

"I've been told so." He chuckles. "You don't believe me? Never had a man cook for you?"

"Never. I…My husband never really knew his way around the kitchen. He tried once, but…It didn't end well. We had to redo the kitchen after that." A small smile breaks through the memory. "Sometimes I think he did so horrible on purpose because he hates to cook. I didn't think anyone could be so bad, so I always think he may have faked it to get out of cooking."

It doesn't surprise Sheldon to learn that a man insensitive enough to ask for a divorce in a email wouldn't have the courtesy to at least try to cook for his wife.

"I'm glad I can be the first one to cook for you then." When she places her free hand over their joined ones, Sheldon smiles and does the same. The warmth from her hands, her intimate, delicate touch, spreads a heat through him so intense he cannot stop looking at her.

He would hold her hand all day if he could.

…

"I like her."

"And that scares you?" Sheldon's therapist questions.

Sheldon leans back against the couch with a sigh, wishing they had two more seconds in a session that has forty minutes left.

He doesn't want to talk about Miranda, about her terminal illness, but if he doesn't talk to someone he is going to go insane. A man whose belief firmly sides with therapy, Sheldon has discovered that his therapist is the best person to talk to, even if he doesn't want to.

"She's dying. Today, tomorrow, the day after that. Who knows? She could die any moment."

"And that scares you?"

More than he is willing to admit, even to her. He's scared of getting too close, scared that he already has and there's no way to protect his heart when the moment comes.

"You almost lost her once," his therapist supplies the memory, coaxing him to communicate. "You told me that a few sessions ago. That you thought she had died. And then the next day she hadn't?"

"And we've spent every day together ever since." Sheldon smiles at the memories, the simple, but intimate thoughts that will connect him to her always.

"It's been two weeks. That's a lot of time to spend with someone in your situation."

"It hasn't felt like a long time. But I still…" Sheldon shrugs. "I feel like I've known her forever."

"Why is that?"

"We connect," he explains. "In ways that..." Sheldon stops himself from admitting too much but says, "I take her to lunch and dinner and even though both of us haven't changed our routines, nothing really is going on, we talk about that don't revolve around cancer."

"I'd say cancer is a pretty big thing going on in both of your lives at the moment," his therapist suggests. "Even if your cancer may go into remission soon. It's still a part of who you are, a part of your daily life. And hers, too, in even more profound ways."

"We try to avoid discussion of it as much as we can."

"Why?"

"Neither of us wants her to die."

"You both will one day," she challenges.

"But she will sooner." And the thought kills him, and the thought both inhibits and propels his desire to spend time with Miranda.

"You knew this going into it. Time is limited, Sheldon. You know that as a therapist, and as a human."

"It doesn't make it any easier to accept."

"Why not?"

"Because..." Sheldon shrugs and twists his hands together. He considers his response under the inquisitive gaze of his therapist. Sheldon wishes that to be honest with her, he wouldn't have to be honest with himself. "You're a therapist."

"I am."

"So you get it, being a therapist. You get the job and what it entails and how you counsel people. You know the tools to help patients heal."

"As do you. How does this relate to your situation with Miranda?"

"It..." He pauses to formulate his response. "I know the tools necessary to grieve and cope. I know them all. I preach them to patients daily. I know how to accept the time when it's come."

"And you're suggesting that's what makes it hard? Knowing the tools but not feeling equipped to apply them?"

"It's definitely different on the other side," Sheldon comments sadly.

"And that scares you? Knowing that Miranda's going to die, but still getting close to her anyway?"

"Scares me more than my own cancer."

"Why?"

Sheldon meets her gaze for the first time in this appointment to admit, "Prostate cancer I can survive. I can even one day return to the man I was before cancer, both physically and emotionally. It won't kill me if I fight it. But Miranda...She's dying. She has brain and breast cancer. And I'm still spending days with her. I'm still getting close."

"You've displayed the characteristics necessary to go through this with someone else. Are you having second thoughts?"

"That's not it." Sheldon sighs and shakes his head. "It's just...I'm not doing myself any good by getting close to her, knowing she's going to die. That's not doing me any good."

"Do you think your life would be better were she never in it?"

He doesn't even need to consider it. "No."

"So then why do you think her presence in your life won't do you any good?"

"The more time I spend with her, the more that I..." He stops himself from admitting too much, but his therapist can see he's holding back, and he can't help but close his eyes. It's too much. "The more time I spend with her, the more it's going to hurt when it's all over."

"Are you going to let your fear stop you from being in an honest, true relationship with her?"

Sometimes I think I already am.

After a deep breath, Sheldon admits, "I try not to, but it's hard. It's hard to jump into something completely when you know the end is, not near, but there. You know, I've heard people say that fear is a prison. I just...I never thought it was one I'd ever be trapped in."

…

"No talk of cancer tonight," Miranda encourages with a gentle, promising kiss.

In that moment Sheldon is able to forget because her lips are just soft enough, her arms around his neck hug him tight against her, and her wig is enough to fool even the smartest man. He moves to return her kiss, but Miranda pulls away before their lips can meet again.

"You promise me, Sheldon? No talk of cancer?"

"I promise. Now can I…?"

He smiles when she bridges the distance between them, their lips meeting in a tender, slow heat he knows excites them both. In the past weeks between them, they have kissed so much that the moments start to blur together. But Sheldon remembers every kiss like it's the first time all over again.

Miranda pulls away moments later to breathe. She smiles when he tries to kiss her again, but she puts a finger against his lips. "Wait."

Miranda's hands cup Sheldon's cheeks gently, and she looks into his eyes, and she sees a man who sees her completely for who she is, not just a woman with cancer and a well-placed wig. With him, she may not have one of her breasts, but she still very much feels like a woman.

Sheldon covers her hands in his own with a smile. "What?"

"Thank you for today."

Sheldon takes one of her hands and presses it against his lips in a kiss. "The day isn't over yet."

"No?"

"We still have dinner," Sheldon reminds her, and he kisses her hand again. "Which, if it's as good as what I made for you last time—"

"Which I loved."

"Then you'll love this even more," he promises. "It's cooking in the oven as we speak."

Miranda hums softly and wraps her arms around his neck once more. Her body inches closer to his until her chest touches his. With a quick, gentle kiss, she suggests, "How about you kiss me until it's done?"

"It has another twenty minutes."

"Kiss me anyway."

Sheldon kisses her, at first soft but increasingly passionate as he wraps his arms around her, holding her close.

With one arm around her shoulders, the other curved around the small of her back, they kiss until it's hard to breathe. A moment's separation ends when her mouth captures his again, pleading and so deliciously warm that Sheldon considers ignoring dinner all together.

Miranda wraps her arms around his neck, one hand buried in his hair, the other cupping his cheek. "Girl can get used to this kind of five star treatment."

"You're more than welcome to," Sheldon agrees. "I won't give you anything less."

"I think that deserves another kiss."

"And maybe cuddling later?" He asks, hopeful.

"Oh, there will definitely be that."

…

"Good morning Sheldon," Violet greets as she steps onto the elevator with him. She smiles when he nods in acknowledgment. "You okay?"

"Fine. Why?"

"You just seem a little tired is all."

"I'm fine," Sheldon reassures her. He smiles as the elevator door slides shut. He wishes Violet hadn't already pushed the button for their floor, so that he could fill the silence with the action. Not in the mood to make small talk, he looks down at his shoes and patiently waits for the ride to end so they can part.

"Sheldon?"

So close. He glances at her with a warm, optimistic smile. "Yeah, Violet?"

"Have you ever missed someone for the little things?"

Sheldon pulls the emergency stop before they can reach the floor. He turns to face her, and he sees sadness outweigh panic. Frustrated that he's still the resident therapist for the practice, even for a fellow therapist, Sheldon hopes this will be quick. "What's going on, Violet?"

"I miss Pete. Well, I don't miss him, exactly. Just...Just the little things."

"Like?"

"Cuddling."

Sheldon smiles. "I never pegged Pete as a man with an affinity for cuddling."

"Oh, he wasn't. But he did it for me, because he knew I enjoyed it," Violet answers with a shrug. "I just...I miss it. Having someone to just be alone with at the end of the day. Someone you can hold onto when everything is falling apart."

"I know how that feels."

Violet chuckles. "Do you, Sheldon?"

"Yes." He understands it better than she could ever imagine. "You think about it all day, how you get to go home to that person and wrap your arms around them. It makes everything a little easier to deal with, and your daily routine doesn't feel so monotonous anymore. You feel a little less alone. A little more loved."

"It's intimate."

"Very," Sheldon agrees.

...

"Sheldon," Charlotte scolds, "I am lyin' here in a hospital bed worryin' about my babies. You think I wanna advise you on sex?"

"No."

"Then why are you here botherin' me about it?"

"I just…" Sheldon sighs and shakes his head in bitter disappointment. "I guess I hoped talking about something you enjoyed might get your mind off this miserable state you're in."

"The only thing that's gonna get me outta this miserable mess is the birth of my babies. Healthy. Alive. Babies born. Can you do that for me?" When he doesn't answer, because she's only 34 weeks along, she lets her head fall against the pillow. With a deep exhale, Charlotte sees the frustration in his eyes and asks, "Any other reason you're askin' me about sex?"

"No."

Her eyebrow quirks up in disbelief. "No?"

"Yes," Sheldon agrees. He rubs his temple thoughtfully, shakes his head, and glances back at Charlotte with a weak smile. "Nothing's wrong, Charlotte. I was just trying to get your mind off your pain."

"I don't believe you. There's somethin' more." Her lips curve in a knowing smirk Sheldon doesn't like, and Charlotte props herself up on her elbows. "You found yourself a new woman?"

"You're guessing."

"But I'm guessin' right, aren't I?"

Sheldon sighs softly, but he doesn't dare meet her eyes when the smirk grows to a grin, proud and full of interest. "Listen, I'm sorry I ever brought this up. All I was trying to do—"

"Are you having problems…performing?"

"It's not my performance I'm concerned with," Sheldon mutters. Before she can interject, stunned at his admission, he tells her, "Listen, I don't want to talk about this, Charlotte."

"You brought it up! And now," she lets out a low chuckle, "now I'm intrigued. Who is this woman? You meet her at the gym?"

"Y-Yeah." The gym. His code for radiation therapy he no longer experiences because the treatment is over. It's treatment that Miranda still suffers through because of a promise she's made to her niece, and treatment Sheldon still goes with her to so she doesn't have to sit alone.

It keeps his ruse alive, so no one will ever have to know.

"Well, come on! I have to live vicariously through you! What's her name?"

"Charlotte—"

"You started this," Charlotte reminds him bitterly with a firm, no-nonsense tone that tells Sheldon she will not give up. "Now you've piqued my interest. Spill."

"I should go."

"You will not! You leave this room and I'm callin' security on you!" When he stops, mid-rise, she encourages him to sit. "Come on, Sheldon. I'm lyin' here in this room all day long without anyone here to keep me company. I need some talkin'. I need some conversation. Humor me. Please?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You came here askin' me about sex. Your opening line through that door was askin' me if I can give you any advice. You don't just ask someone that and pretend you never did." When he stares at her in disbelief, she attempts a different approach and reminds him, "I can help you. It is my speciality, after all."

"I don't want your help anymore." He'd have to tell her about his cancer, Miranda's, too, and the thought unsettles him. He's not prepared to admit that much, not now. "But I guess now I've got it, hm?"

"Oh, yeah. Tell me about her. How exactly did y'all meet? What's her name? What's she like?" After a moment, she squints at Sheldon, who has said nothing and only twists his hands together, and probes, "What's your physical problem? If you're havin' trouble performin', that's solvable."

"I'm not telling you anything ever again." Sheldon stands and leaves the hospital room.

...

"You know the one good thing about wearing a wig?" Miranda quips as she leans over the toilet, preparing for an unattractive show of lunch making a comeback. She rests her head against the cold, clean basin, and chuckles when Sheldon shakes his head. "Moments like this when I'm about to throw up, I don't need to pull my hair back."

"No?"

"I just rip the wig off. No mess."

Sheldon laughs and shakes his head again. He relaxes against the edge of the bathtub fixed into the wall that doubles as a shower, and he rests an arm against the edge. Sitting upright, he crosses his ankles and watches Miranda watch him. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

Miranda laughs. "This is definitely my most attractive light."

"What can I say? I'm attracted to optimistic women." She hasn't thrown up yet, but the nauseous feeling he knows all to well from his own radiation treatments tells Sheldon it will come soon.

"Yeah, well, pretty soon you're going to have enough optimism for the both of us."

"Gonna throw up?"

"I'm gonna die."

Sheldon doesn't respond and nervously bites his bottom lip. "You promised we wouldn't talk about that tonight."

Miranda frowns and quips, "Nice game of tag we play, hm? One night you promise not to talk about it, one night I promise to, and somehow, in the sick workings of the world, we end up talking about it anyway. It's like a disease."

Sheldon knows she's joking to ease the grimace on his features, but it doesn't help. "We had a nice evening."

"Until I dry heaved in the middle of a romantic moment?"

"There's nothing romantic about a kiss on the cheek, Miranda." He remembered his initial surprise. Concern overtook any other emotion when she'd doubled over, coughing and sputtering in pain. He'd helped her to the bathroom, and they sat in the positions they are in now, waiting for her to vomit.

"It was until I gagged," she reminds him with a weak smile. "You would have kissed me?"

"I was already kissing you."

"On the lips, Sheldon," Miranda responds with a shake of her head. "You would have kissed me on the lips if I hadn't dry heaved."

Sheldon smiles in response. "Oh, yeah."

Miranda sighs and rolls her eyes. "Side effects of radiation ruined a good moment. Never happened to me before. My ego's a little bruised. I don't think I'd ever be able to look at you again if I threw up on you." She smiles back at him and comments, "I don't even know how I can look at you right now. You should run for the hills."

"I'm comfortable right where I'm at."

"Even if I throw up? You really want to see me in that light?"

He snorts. "Trust me, I've seen worse. A little nausea from radiation treatment doesn't scare me. It'll take a lot more than that to push me away."

"You're a saint."

And you're an angel.

Even if Miranda is spread out over the rim of the toilet, vomiting, he'd rather sit here in the bathroom with her than be back at his apartment wondering how she is. Here he knows, and he can help, even if it's just with a comforting hand on her shoulder. He can do something.

He can help make her feel a little less alone in her struggle, and that makes all the disgust worth it.

"Sheldon?"

"Yeah?"

"When we first met, what'd you think of me?" Miranda adds, "I mean at the hospital, not at the treatment center. I was a bit rude the first time that we met."

"First time we met?" Sheldon whistles. "You still are!" He laughs when she throws a towel at him, and he wraps it in his hands. The fabric is soft and clean, and it smells like dryer sheets. He grins when Miranda smirks at him. "The first time we met, hm?"

"I'll tell you what I first thought of you."

"Not sure I want to hear that one."

"It's good, I promise." Her leg extends until her bare foot rubs against his pant leg, and she gives him a soft, playful kick. "Come on, Sheldon. Humor a sick woman."

He smiles, scoots forward, and takes her small, fragile foot in his hands. Cancer has reduced her to almost nothing, and he can feel every ridge and bone in her feet. Cold to his touch, Sheldon covers them with both hands and begins to rub gently, the soft pads of his thumbs working circles even as his hands create warm friction.

A light application of pressure draws a whimper from Miranda, and Sheldon worries for a moment that he's hurt her, so he pulls his hands away.

"No, no," she whispers. "Don't stop."

Sheldon resumes his gentle foot massage with a warm smile. Meeting the green eyes that blanket over in a dim haze, he tells her, "First time we met I thought there's a woman I could help. I was having a bad night, you know."

"Your ex told you to get lost, right?"

"Not as crudely." Sheldon smiles when she shrugs, as if the actual words do not matter, and doesn't make the flee any less painful. "Like I told you, if you're having a bad day—"

"The best way to cheer yourself up is to cheer someone else up," Miranda finishes. "Mark Twain. I still owe you a dollar, don't I?"

"I'll never ask for it."

"You really are a saint. That's what I first thought of you." She whimpers when he applies more pressure. Letting her body slide off the basin, she relaxes against the wall but inches closer to him, encouraging him to pay attention to her right foot. Propping herself up on her elbows, Miranda smiles when he lets go of her left foot in exchange for the right, and adds, "You bought me a chocolate bar."

"It was nothing."

"That was one good chocolate bar." Miranda hums at the memory before she moans when he works out a knot. Her toes curl and she clenches her hands. "I've never met a man with such soft but firm hands before."

"Too much pressure?"

"Just enough."

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" Sheldon smiles to see her eyes flutter open and she flashes him a brilliant, satisfied grin. "What would you do if I stopped?"

"I'd kill you."

"Guess I can't stop. Don't want that."

"Me either. Who else is going to give me a foot massage and cook me dinner?"

"That the only reason you keep me around?"

"You know it," Miranda says with a smirk.

Sheldon gazes at her, at the woman who slowly deteriorates before his eyes, and wonders when the last time was she'd treated herself to a pampering. He makes a vow to buy her a visit to an all-inclusive spa, where she'll receive a genuine, more pleasurable massage from a trained professional.

She slides her feet from his grasp and readjusts her position so she's sitting against the wall, a few tiles distance between them. When she reopens her eyes, Miranda smiles at him.

"I thought you told me not to stop?"

"Don't want to get too used to such amazing treatment," Miranda explains with a shrug. "Won't have it forever."

Sheldon frowns, and he moves so he's sitting in front of her. Cupping her warm, flushed cheeks in his hands, he kisses the bridge of her nose, her closed eyelids, and her forehead. Clammy skin saddens him, but he smiles slightly when she grips his wrist. Miranda's hands tighten around his wrists like he'll pull away and never return, so to calm her, Sheldon kisses her lips.

They are dry and cracked, but he doesn't care. Sheldon kisses her again and promises, "I'll be here as long as you want me."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Sheldon."

"I don't make promises I can't keep. And I'm promising you," he kisses her again, "I am not going anywhere."

Her nails dig into his wrists. His body doesn't register the pain, the marks she will leave because as soon as his lips leave hers, she follows and kisses him fiercely, filled with such honest, overwhelming passion that he wishes she didn't have cancer so he could make love to her. Miranda kisses him like they will have no tomorrow, the heat and passion and desire unlike anything he's ever experienced. It's a don't go, not yet. More importantly, it's a thank you for all of the things he's done, for all the ways he's shown her he's here to stay.

Her breath catches mid-kiss, and Miranda pulls away with a shudder. Sheldon realizes she's crying when he feels her body shake against him. Concerned, he cups her chin and encourages her to look at him. When she does, the green eyes he's come to love are filled with tears, and streaks stream down her puffy, pink cheeks.

"Sheldon…"

"Miranda?"

"Go." She attempts to push him away, but her strength is no match for his. "Sheldon, go. Please don't do this. Please..."

"Miranda, please-"

"You should go," Miranda whispers with shaky, strangled breaths. "Leave before it's too late."

"No."

"Go! Damn it, just go!"

"Miranda, I can't." Sheldon holds onto her wrists tight as she attempts to wiggle from his grasp. "This is my apartment."

"Oh. Oh!" Miranda tries to stand, but Sheldon keeps her against the wall. Given her thinning frame, it is no difficult feat. "Sheldon, please let me go. Let me go."

"No."

"Let me-!" A shuddering sob interrupts her plea, and Miranda collapses against him, head buried in the crook of his neck, hands balling the fabric of his shirt into fists. Leaning into him, she lets out another sob that breaks his heart. "I don't want you to see me like this."

"It's okay, Miranda."

"It's not. It's not."

"It is," Sheldon reassures her gently, kissing her cool forehead. He wraps his arms around her, and he helps Miranda shift until she's straddling him, collapsed against him with her legs on either side of his. He holds her safely against him, one hand on the small of her back, the other cupping her cheek. Her arms snake around him, and she holds on tight.

When she pulls away to meet his gaze, Sheldon kisses away the tears on her cheeks.

Miranda clutches his wrists and intakes a heavy breath. "You should leave before it's too late," she whispers. "Before we get too far into this. Save yourself the pain of being with a dying woman. Just do it, Sheldon. I won't be mad. Go before it's too late and it'll hurt too much."

"Oh, sweetheart…" He cups both of her cheeks in his hands and shakes his head. "It's already too late."

Miranda doesn't say anything as she leans against him again, sliding her body backward until she is just short enough to rest her head on his shoulder. His arms tighten around her, holding her close, and she smiles to feel his lips ghost over the sweaty skin of her forehead. "You didn't leave."

"No." No matter how hard he's tried, he can't leave her. Sheldon cannot bring himself to dislike her, even though that would be easier than to admit he adores her.

"Stay with me tonight," Miranda pleads in a whisper. "I know I begged you to leave..."

"I'm not going anywhere." It's a promise Sheldon intends to keep.