~Chapter 7~

A/N – Thank you to everyone for the amazing reviews. This chapter was difficult to write, from an Amy lover's POV. I can guarantee no one will like what this chapter holds. But I do have a plan. Do not fear. Happy thoughts. And remember: Out of chaos, brilliant stars are born –

BTW, my opening lyrics choice for this chapter, was purely by coincidence. I remembered it after I wrote the chapter. Have a listen to this song on Youtube. It is one of my favorites, is absolutely beautiful and fits this scene to a T. x Jo

Disclaimer: I own nothing of The Big Bang Theory. This is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

"…Feel the ground, it's slipping away like a sigh that greets the close of day. Feel the water's welcoming arms embrace me in their quiet calm. I can't hear what you say anymore, just the sound of trees on the ocean floor. Irresistibly drawn…from the shore. (I'm)…Drowning in your eyes I'm, floating out to sea. Helpless on the restless tide, that flows between you and me…" Ephraim Lewis – Drowning In Your Eyes

When Amy was younger, she had trouble falling asleep.

Due to her unusually high brain function, falling asleep at night was a chore. She would try to stay up for hours after her bedtime, devising ways to stave off slumber for as long as possible.

Reading by flashlight. Scribbling notes and ideas down into a journal. Talking to herself as though she were being interviewed by a prestigious paper. But sleep was always forced upon her. Her mother would tuck her in to her twin bed tightly, kissing her forehead and removing the glasses from her daughter's small face.

'Careful with these, Amelia. Smart girls don't fall asleep with their glasses on.' She would say sternly, putting the spectacles on her nightstand. This in turn blurred the world from her view and distorted everything. Her mother would shut off the light, blowing Amy another kiss, and then leave Amy to her darkened room.

The second the door would click, Amy would pull out the covers from the mattress, thus freeing her from the heavy restraints. She hated when her mother did that. What? Did she think she would roll out of bed at the age of 10?

She'd lay there for a long while, her eyes stubbornly refusing to close. There was so much to think about. So many ideas to jot down. So much to discover. Her mind was a gift she never took for granted. Sleep seemed like such a waste.

Another wasted concept to her, was fawning over the opposite sex. Most of the boys she knew were juvenile, ignorant, smelled funny, and never gave her a second glance. Besides…even if she had been interested in dating, a well arched brow from her mother would put the kibosh on that in a New York minute.

'A good girl doesn't need to act like a tart, Amy dear. A boy won't buy the cow if he gets the milk for free.'

By the time Amy was fourteen, she had a thick dossier of worldly wisdoms passed down by her mother to her. Not that it mattered; those jewels her mother pontificated about were wasted upon her.

While Amy's peers were tall, lithe, and had the kind of bone structure models kill for, Amy had been born blessed with brittle ankles. A low center of gravity. And myopia. Not too many boys in the neighborhood wanted to sample her milk, anyway.

As the girls her age were swooning over the boys of bands like New Kids on the Block, she was stockpiling knowledge as a gatherer would food. There would be a time later for makeup, and boys, and giggling with besties over ice cream and glossy magazines. Now was the time to learn. To absorb. To excel. And she did. Oh, she did.

The problem was, when the day came she was ready to experience those superfluous things, time had marched on without her. She had no real friends to rely upon, or share things with. Science and Academia were her only friends. They comforted her and surrounded her with contentment.

Her love for learning had altered her in ways the general populous scorned. She was quick-witted, though too direct. Nobody liked a know it all. She was quirky, but her interests were considered weird. What fourteen year old plays the harp and reads Chaucer? And she was cute, but she had zero fashion sense – hiding behind masculine cardigans, stringy hair, and orthopedic shoes.

In short, she was what her peers considered a loser.

And they never let her forget it. On more than one occasion, she was the victim of cruel, malicious pranks. It shouldn't have been that way; so they didn't like her. Why not simply ignore her? Why go out of their way to harm or humiliate her; what was the point of that?

It took her a long time to accept that they did it because they liked it. Plain and simple. People could be cruel and merciless. So she built a wall around her heart, never allowing anyone to penetrate it.

Though she secretly wished for the companionship of those blond, blue eyed waifs, something deep inside of her told her she was on a different wavelength than them. Trusting them was a risk. She had learned her lessons the hard way. It would take her years to find the kind of fellowship she would ultimately find. Thanks in part to the chance meeting in a coffee shop and the promise of the use of a George Foreman grill.

Her life had changed irrevocably since that day. There was no going back. She could never have guessed how becoming one half of a whole with Sheldon, would give her an even larger social circle. How could she have known, that he had so many good friends, and in turn, they had significant others who would accept her. Support her. Love her.

She often feared over the years that it was only Sheldon that bound her to this group. If she and Sheldon parted ways, would the others even bother with her? She had to hold on to the truth they would. Or else, her heart would splinter into a million tiny shards of glass. They didn't just tolerate her because she was Sheldon's girlfriend, right? While it was true in the beginning, four years had gone by. Surely, they cared for Amy, the person, now… and not just out of obligation?

Penny and Bernadette weren't always supportive. They had, in the past, teased her and mocked her about not only her style, but her slow moving relationship with Sheldon. But she knew deep inside, they cared for her and would be there if she needed them.

They teased her relentlessly about that fanfiction during girl's night. In the end, though…it was fine. They really seemed to enjoy her little tale of Amelia and Cooper. It made her smile to know she shared something so personal with them, and wasn't judged or ridiculed. Not only that, they encouraged her.

Lying in bed that night, she smiled in the darkness at how they were on the edge of their seat, waiting to know what happened in the end. This was what besties did; except there was no makeup, and the ice cream had been a more adult libation called wine. But still…

In the deepest recesses of her heart, she allowed her dreams to flourish of a physical relationship with her boyfriend.

Sheldon was handsome, no doubt about that. But it was more than his boyish face, tall, muscular body, and underplayed charm. It was his sexual innocence that intrigued her. She too was inexperienced in the ways of Eros. That they would be learning all of this together titillated her. She needed an outlet for her ever growing attraction to him. He wasn't ready. She accepted that. They were in this holding pattern that sometimes had her turning back to her childhood passion of writing. What could it hurt, spending out her desires on paper?

She often found herself in the midst of dreams about him; touching her. Kissing her. Bringing her to rapture. She'd feel guilty and spent afterwards, but it didn't matter. She couldn't help the attraction he'd wrought from her.

Last night was just another example. She dreamt of Sheldon all night; his wounded eyes and soft lips imploring her to believe him. Understand him. Accept him as he was. Quirks and all. He was so imperfect, her perfect man. And he may never see her side of the coin. She knew he loved her. But would that always be enough? Actions spoke louder than words in Amy's mind. She was a Scientist. She could only believe in cold facts. Her heart was too full of him. He would be the death of her someday, she was certain.

She had been so incredibly sad last night, when he left. She was hoping he would kiss her goodbye, but no such luck. She couldn't fault him; his mysophobia was as big a part of him as anything. She knew and understood his fears. Yet she longed for his kiss as the sky longed for the Sun to warm it.

He left her, leaving her cold and alone. She spend the entire night tossing fitfully, her mind hazy and her body restless. Why couldn't she relax? She was exhausted.

Something roused her. A noise next door perhaps. Or a car backfiring outside. She carefully sat up, trying to gather her bearings. Her head was pounding, her throat on fire, her lungs constricted.

Amy blinked rapidly as she tried to focus. Her brain was normally as sharp as a surgeon's honed blade. Her first indication that something was terribly wrong, was that she couldn't remember what day it was. She remembered last night was date night, but what night was that again?

She had slept until after ten this morning, spending the next two hours laying there staring at the television which was on mute. She was starving, yet had absolutely no saliva in her mouth to chew. The effort was simply too much for her. Her mouth was so dry she could hardly swallow.

She thought about going to heat up some soup, but couldn't muster an ounce of energy. Reaching over, she grabbed some Tylenol and downed it with the warm water on her bedside table. Her head was swimming. She hadn't eaten since dinner last night, and that was at least 15 hours ago.

That burning sensation which began to take root in her throat the day before yesterday had morphed into a full on inferno. Her lungs ached each time she tried to draw a breath. She was sweating like she was in the Congo, yet felt achingly cold.

She couldn't remember the last time she felt this terrible. She couldn't remember much of anything, in fact. Her thoughts were a hazy pattern of images and sounds. Her limbs felt hundreds of pounds and her eyes scratchy.

She was lucky she had the presence of mind to call out sick earlier that morning. Even that was extremely difficult. She could only manage a text to the University Human Resources Dept. at the crack of dawn.

Part of her was frightened that she needed real help, yet she didn't have the heart nor the energy to call anyone. She thought of Penny, but she was no doubt in conference with Dr.'s all day. There was no way she could bother Sheldon with this; he was stressed enough about his job without having to deal with her cold. Her mother was in Bakersfield for the week visiting her sister, so that was out as well.

Exhausted and out of breath, the most she could do was fall back into a fitful sleep, dreaming of crashing waves and sunsets.

She awoke later on feeling dizzy and disoriented. What time was it? The room was bright with shadows fading in and out through the blinds, casting patterns on the floor. A fleeting thought shuffled through her mind; lying in bed as a child at night, watching the headlights from passing cars lighting up her room for a second. They cast similar shadows as the light did now. Amy felt her eyes drooping as she tried to remember.

She was so incredibly thirsty. She was dying for a drink, and knew she had to walk to the kitchen to get one. She stood up on wobbly legs to make her way, but the short trek wore her out and had her clutching the couch for support. Halfway there, the room began to spin in front of her.

Are you sure this is just a sore throat, Dr. Fowler? Her feeble mind supplied.

What was the matter with her that she couldn't even take care of herself? She was a world renowned Neuroscientist. And she was not even able to make it to the kitchen for…

For what?

Suddenly, she couldn't remember where she was going, or for what reason. Her hands began to tremble, and dots swam in front of her already blurred vision. She swallowed thickly, but the fire in her throat was too painful and she began to cough uncontrollably.

Amy began to cry. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

I have to make it back to my room. Where is my cell phone? I have to call for help. Please, help me.

She staggered back the way she came, gripping the doorframe to her room. Her bleary eyes scanned the room until they found her dresser. She forget to put her glasses on, so she couldn't see that far. Walking over slowly, she let out a frustrated gasp. Her phone wasn't upon it.

"Dammit," she choked out, beginning to panic. Was it on her bedside table? She paced over, only to find it, too, was empty.

Where was the damn phone?

It was in the bathroom. She had left it on the counter last night. That's where it was.

Amy took a shallow breath, unable to exhale it completely. The room began to spin once again, this time moving even faster and faster than before.

I can do this. I can do this. One foot in front of the other. Keep calm, Fowler. One foot in front of the other.

They say it only takes a second for your life to change.

Stumbling on the carpet, she didn't see the shoes she wore last night by the side of the bed. Her foot got caught in the heel, sending her flying across the room.

In her haste last night to dress for date night, Amy had left her lingerie drawer open. As she came down hard from her fall, her forehead made contact with the sharp edge of the drawer, knocking her unconscious immediately.

Time was meaningless. It might have been hours, or days, since she remembered anything. Felt anything.

As if in a dream, she felt cold water splashing her in the face. If that wasn't bad enough, the cold water began to trickle down her bare body, seeping into her bones and making her shiver uncontrollably.

Bare body? When did she get naked? How did she get here? Where was here, anyway?

Something soft and gentle caressed her face, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes. She began to shake harder from the freezing water. Where was she? Had she wandered into the Antarctic exhibit at the San Diego Zoo?

She couldn't focus on anything. She tried to stand, but her feet gave way underneath her. Was she floating on air? She was lying down now. How did that happen? Something hard was beneath her. A raft, maybe? Had she drifted out to sea? The freezing water pelted her, blinding her. She was so cold.

Tears began to form in her eyes. She tried to take a deep breath, but it was impossible.

'I can't breathe…'

Panic seized her as she couldn't get oxygen into her lungs. She was on fire, her body aching as the flames swallowed her. Yet the cold water felt like millions of needles going through her skin. All she wanted to do was go to sleep. Why couldn't she go to sleep? Her head ached, pounding against the onslaught of light, sound, and touch.

'Oh, god…I'm dying', she thought incoherently. She tried to stand again, but strong arms held her tight.

Arms?

She was a Neuroscientist. She knew that the brain played tricks on you during times of trauma. It was the cerebral cortex's way of protecting itself.

What was happening to her? Sobs began to bubble out of her. She sifted through her memory, trying to find the medical jargon to give her help. She flailed her arms about, trying to grab onto something. She couldn't gain purchase on anything. Everything was slippery. Everything was wet. Something was holding her tightly, anchoring her down.

Why was her vast knowledge of Science and medicine failing her? She had devoted her life to Science, and now, it had let her down. What good was Science when you were alone, empty, and helpless?

'Who am I? Oh, god…I can't remember my name'…

She shifted through her databanks, terror stricken, unable to remember the slightest detail about her life. It was like she had never existed at all.

Suddenly, one word forced its way through the haze and murk she found herself immersed in. She knew somewhere in her mind that it would keep her safe.

"Sheldon."

Sinking into the cushion of the raft beneath her, Amy drifted off to sea. She had no fight left in her. Hopefully they would find her before the raft overturned or tossed her into oblivion.

She couldn't hear the soft voice in her ear whispering…

"…I'm here..."

She saw shadows of dark and light.

Lights shining in her eyes.

She heard words, too. Murmurings which were muffled. Words that should have been like second nature to her. But these words meant nothing. Especially uttered by strange voices she had never heard before.

Seizure

Head trauma

Respiratory distress

Severe dehydration

Lactated ringers

Pneumonia

CPR

Crash cart

She felt things, as well. As though she were standing above her body, looking down at herself. It didn't feel real. Nothing felt real.

A tourniquet on her arm.

Something tense being pulled across her forehead.

A pinprick.

Another pinprick.

Strong hands pressing on her diaphragm. Something plastic being put in her mouth.

Then, later, who knew how long… something cold tightly gripping her hand. Something soft and warm pressing against her temple. Something wet dripping down her face, sliding onto her lips. It was salty.

Curious.

Sea water, perhaps? Had she fallen off her raft into the ocean after all? What time was it, anyway? Had she made it to the shore? So many questions…It was bright here. Too bright. Whiteness everywhere.

Something was warm by her ear, whispering quiet sounds to her. She could not make them out. She strained to hear, but the oceans roar was too loud.

'Don't leave me'.

That was strange. Where would she go?

Her body was being dragged over coral and seaweed and stinging water. It hurt. Dear God, it hurt. Because she knew that she was drifting further and further away from who she was. Who she had been. Who she was going to become.

'Help me', she moaned in the darkness, trying and failing to open her eyes. She tried to remember anything about herself. Anything at all.

She heard the words of Chaucer in her head, but she couldn't comprehend their meaning. They were beautiful, though, and she feared she would never hear such words again.

'This thing that has happened to you is for your instruction and your profit. Let's see! Do you dare to look yet? Be fully assured, I tell you plainly, I am your friend…'

That voice…I know that voice. I hear that voice in my dreams…

'Come back', she cried helplessly as the words and the voice speaking them flew through the air, out of her reach, destination unknown.

Pushing through the water, her limbs as heavy as concrete, she tried to gain ground. It was impossible as the heaviness in her chest weighed her down. She was drowning.

She saw snippets of things she didn't understand. Heard voices whispering words that were a foreign language. The fear gave way to acceptance. She felt calm. It was strange; only moments ago she was terrified. Where was this strange place?

The color blue flashed before her whitewashed vision.

Blue…Deep as the ocean. So deep. She was drowning in that color. She was drowning.

Drowning…

Above her…below her…behind her…in front of her…

It hit her. It was so simple. So clear. So clean.

Eyes.

A baby's eyes. A toddler's eyes. A child's eyes. A man's eyes.

Her man's eyes.

She tried to hold onto them, her gaze faltering as the blue was being pulled away from her, to be replaced with black.

Further.

Further.

No…Focus on those eyes. Don't look at the other thing. Turn away from it. Close your eyes. Blue. Focus on the blue.

Cornflower blue. Azure blue. Indigo blue. Navy blue. Sapphire blue. Lapis blue. Cerulean blue. Sheldon's blue. Sheldon's blue. Sheldon…

That was his name. Sheldon...

'I kiss you back. On the lips…I remove your armor…what do you do?'

Sheldon…

'I deserve romance. And I didn't know how else to make it happen.'

Sheldon…

'Sometimes…I can't help but want more.'

Sheldon.

'I'm always hoping.'

Hope is the thing with feathers…that perches in the soul…

She was standing on another shore, a distant shore…many miles from here. Graduation day from Harvard University. Valedictorian. Summa cum laude. Nantasket beach…late spring. She was alone. Always alone. Cap and gown still on, diploma in the front seat of her car. No shoes. No tights. Staring at the Atlantic. UCLA bound. PhD. Clutching a bottle. A small vintage bottle she found while vacationing on Cape Cod. It held a note. She felt foolish. She threw it across the expanse, watching as the waves took it. Tumbling. Tumbling. Gone. She smiled sadly. One part of her life, over. Another chapter to begin. Pasadena beckoned. Or perhaps Glendale. Would it be the same? No friends. No lover. No hope? She had brains. She knew brains. Brains held the key to the universe. Brains couldn't hold your hand, though. Would she ever find someone like her? Too smart for her own good…too involved with Science…too much a cynic? Probably not. She was a rarity. One of a kind. A freak. Was anyone here going to miss her? Was anyone anywhere going to?

She stared at the water.

Blue…so blue. Blue was her favorite color. Would she ever again see a blue as lovely as this? A blue that filled her heart, soothed her soul, seeping in and covering her in its splendor?

She doubted it.