Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed! It is very much appreciated. Thanks again to Lionne6, editor extraordinaire!

Warnings for this chapter: Just to remind everyone again, this is a little bit AU (alternate universe) in that this story occurs in a season 4/season 5 setting, and the relationship agreement has not yet been conceived. Also, Stuart/Amy never happens in this universe, though jealous!Sheldon is there in spades. Additional warning for this chapter: introduction of an original character.

One week later

"Excellent suggestion, Amy Farrah Fowler."

Her computerized image nodded at him. "I believe that this will be a successful way to navigate your professional relationship with the department head," she said. Her gaze fell to the bottom corner of the screen and she smirked, typing rapidly.

"With whom are you g-chatting?" Sheldon asked before he knew what he was saying.

Amy looked back at the computer camera with a raised eyebrow.

"David Ricci. I've been collaborating with him on some of my addiction work. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason," said Sheldon, shrugging, "I simply didn't realize you were on a g-chatting basis with your lab partner."

Amy gave him an odd look. "It is an efficient way to communicate. And furthermore, he's not my 'lab partner' – he is an accomplished neurobiologist in his own right at the university." She glanced at the corner of the screen again. "He's informed me that Ricky has stubbed out one of his cigarettes on Fred's anus again. Needless to say, Fred's feces flinging has intensified."

Sheldon looked as if he hadn't heard any of what she'd just said. "Do you g-chat with others at your lab?"

Amy blinked. "Of what relevance is this question to what we were discussing?"

"You're the one who interrupted our Skype session to address this real-time correspondence, and thus it is you that made this question relevant to our conversation."

Amy considered this. "I suppose that's true – though we generally don't refocus the conversation when Leonard walks by and disrupts our sessions. Additionally, I believe you've checked a text message recently and neither of us found it remarkable."

"But…" Sheldon began, then stopped. Her logic was sound. Was a brain tumor affecting his cognitive reasoning? Oh no, perhaps it was the malaria, slowly destroying his precious tissue—

Amy was frowning now. "Are you feeling ill, Sheldon? Pardon the idiom, but you have not been yourself lately."

Sheldon hesitated before speaking. "I have been feeling rather peculiar recently," he said carefully.

Amy straightened her glasses. "Well, let us assess your symptoms and narrow the possibilities."

Sheldon was silent for a moment. "Actually my bladder is my most pressing, pardon the pun, concern right now. We'll continue this conversation at our regularly scheduled Skype session tomorrow." He gave her a bland smile and closed the computer gently.

When it was halfway closed and the screen was black, he slammed it shut and jumped away from it. Good lord, what was he thinking, admitting to her that he'd felt "peculiar"? He'd need at least forty minutes to weave a cogent tale of some affliction that didn't include the octopus presence. Or the...waking nightmares. And traditional nightmares, come to think of it. But you do suspect malaria to be the cause; why not consult her? He uncomfortably pushed that thought aside.

He paced around the room with his hands clasped behind his back. He supposed he didn't have to tell her anything; it was possible she wouldn't deem it an important enough topic to broach during their next Skype conversation. His musings were interrupted by the vibration of his phone, alerting him to a new email. He retrieved his phone from his pocket to check it.

His finger paused above his Gmail icon on his phone, then he looked up in the direction of his computer. He put his phone back in his pocket, strode over to his desk, and reopened his laptop, logging into his Gmail account. He skimmed the message quickly and deleted it. He pursed his lips, then scrolled down his chat contact list until he arrived at Amy's screen name. She was still on g-chat, and still "available." Probably still chatting with that beaker jockey.

He wondered what else could possibly be said about feces-flinging monkeys that would still be occupying her time – it was doubtful Ricci was "a ball of fire," as his mother would say. After all, the natural "sciences" produced mostly amateurs who could hardly be called scientists. Except for Amy. She might as well be hobnobbing with Penny, gabbing about menstrual cycles and pantyhose and such. If only Amy and I had met earlier perhaps I could have persuaded her to join the superior discipline.

"What do you say?" Amy asked Leonard, though her attention was laser-focused on the hangnail she was currently picking at.

Leonard regarded her from the kitchen, cringing slightly at the self-mutilation proceeding apace on his couch. "Go with you to a fundraiser for the biology department?" He asked distractedly.

Sheldon, who'd been typing furiously at his desk, stopped.

Amy nodded. "No chance of pulling your groin muscle this time – no band. Also, the staff of my lab will be there and I have accrued acquaintances among them - perhaps I've absorbed some of Penny's socialization techniques after all."

Sheldon looked up from his computer.

"Amy," he said reproachfully. "You don't actually believe that Leonard will make you appear more intelligent and promising to donors, do you?"

"I think she does," Leonard said, smiling now.

"Why on earth wouldn't you take me?" Sheldon continued, ignoring Leonard. Amy looked up suddenly at Sheldon.

"Maybe she heard about your impressive attempts to scare away all of the physics donors?" Leonard suggested. Sheldon turned around in his seat to glare at him.

"I did not 'scare' that woman – though she is clearly intimidated by brilliance and I'll have you know—"

Leonard grinned, enjoying Sheldon's explanation of the donor's "lack of vision." By chance he glanced over at Amy again, who he noticed was still staring intently at Sheldon.

Leonard cleared his throat. "Actually, Amy—Sheldon probably would be a better choice." he said, interrupting Sheldon's diatribe. "I have to go…somewhere that evening," he amended. Both Amy and Sheldon stared at him.

"Why didn't you say that originally?" Amy asked flatly.

Sheldon shook his head at Amy. "That's typical for Leonard. He still forgets the bathroom schedule."

"Yeah, yeah," Leonard cleared his throat again. "Well, I'm uh… actually going into the bathroom now," Leonard said. "To take a shower," he added. He nodded once to himself, then walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

"Do you see the kind of chaos I'm dealing with?" Sheldon asked Amy once the bathroom door was shut.

Amy nodded, then looked down at her nail again. "So," she said, "do you want to go instead?"

Sheldon folded his hands at his desk thoughtfully. "I believe in advancing the cause of science – if potential donors approach you and see me, they'll recognize that your taste in companions reflects a penchant for brilliant discoveries."

"All right," Amy looked down, a broad smile overtaking her face for a moment. Then she cleared her throat and gathered her messenger bag as Sheldon turned back to his game. "I suppose I should be going - we're experimenting with withdrawal again on Ricky, and David needs me at the ready with the tranquilizer gun."

Sheldon stopped typing again for a moment. "You say that the staff of your lab will be in attendance at the fundraiser, correct?"

"Yes, that's correct."

Sheldon nodded, attention already focused elsewhere.

Amy opened the door of their apartment. "Oh, by the way," Amy said over her shoulder as she was leaving, "it's black tie."

Sheldon burrowed deeper into his cocoon of blankets while checking his email one last time. The only new message was a forwarded email from Kripke with the subject line "hot cosplayers rocking RockBand." Sheldon shook his head distastefully, and began to close his laptop so that he could put it in its safe place on his bedside table. He paused when it was halfway shut, then reopened the computer and logged into Facebook.

He typed "David Ricci" into the Search box, revealing a multitude of results, but only one with whom he shared a common friend. He clicked on the link - the common friend was indeed Amy Farrah Fowler. This was the David Ricci.

He clicked on the profile. "You must first be friends with David to view his entire profile." Sheldon rolled his eyes. He noticed that Ricci's profile pictures were visible, though.

Looking around quickly as if someone were the in the room to see him, he clicked on the album. His first picture was a blurry photograph of a stage at some sort of outdoor concert. Good heavens, Amy, what kind of hooligan are you associating yourself with? The next picture was some candid shot of Ricci running through a wooded area with a number pinned on his chest. What a mindless fool, Sheldon thought with disdain and, inexplicably to him, a slight stirring of unease. Why would any scientist display proof of participating in such a pointless activity? Even his sister could run around at considerable length, and, as his mother always said, she was as "dumb as soup." Ricci must be more of an imbecile than he first guessed-a thought that cheered him considerably.

Clicking on the next picture stopped his mental revelry cold, though. It was Amy. Standing next to Ricci. Three other people dressed in white coats were also in the photo with them, but she was the one positioned directly beside him. They were all holding cigarettes (cigarettes, really?) and grinning wildly. In front of them was Ricky, taking a drag off a Virginia Slims. After a thorough examination, which included saving the image to his hard drive and subsequently enlarging it, he realized with some relief that the cigarettes held by Amy and the rest of the white coats were not lit. Regardless, he must be a terrible influence on all of them, thought Sheldon, still slightly scandalized. The next picture after was a portrait-style photo of Ricci wearing a suit. Sheldon felt a growing sense of annoyance as he examined Ricci's face close up.

Simpleton Sheldon thought viciously, then slammed his laptop shut.

To be continued