Part II

Her new resolution to move on, for good this time, resulted in a thorough interrogation from Penny and Bernadette. They held girl's night frequently, going out to bars and the like. Drunkenness, apparently, suited her as much as it did Penny.

Her girlfriends were missing from her life recently, as she allowed it to be turned upside down. Penny and Bernadette did not lead her to self-destruct. They put her back together.

When she finally admitted to some of what she'd done, Penny had squealed and did not believed her. Bernadette did not believe her either and thankfully for her hearing she did not squeal. Amy finally showed them the pictures of her before they finally believed her.

She tried to explain how it was part of her self destructing. They congratulated her on being a bad ass, not conforming to the good girl exterior she always displayed.

Their disbelief led to an interesting revelation. Her friends thought her boring. Oh, they still cared for her but they saw her as fitting into the mold and never taking risks. Always the perfectionist, she was solid and dependable. It was liberating to no longer have to be perfect. She made a mistake. She could talk about it. She wasn't any better than either of them anymore.

With Penny and Bernadette married, she was the girl in their group constantly going on dates with new guys. It was her who had the most juicy gossip to share about her personal life. Gossip they wanted to hear, at least.

Amy tried online dating again but with no success. What few matches she got were uninteresting, and if they did lead to conversations, within a few lines they bored her. She only met up with Dave once a week for the first two weeks, and, having finally admitted to herself that dating strange men was a huge failure, she was happy to become exclusive with Dave when he broached the subject.

"I really like you," he said to her. They'd just walked out of the movie theater, having watched a chick flick that neither of them was particularly interested in. However, it was the best option of the movies they both had not yet seen.

"I like you too."

To her surprise, he pulled his hand away from hers and she felt the inevitable sting of rejection at the loss, but her worry ended when he rubbed his hands together nervously. He seemed to be nervous frequently around her, despite her best efforts to put him at ease.

"I thought you should know that I . . . umm . . . that is to say I am not seeing anyone else."

She felt a thrill as he admitted that to her, and she could easily discern just how hard that admission was for him. Being open did not come naturally to him, especially after the way his marriage ended, and it made her proud of him for trying.

"I'm not seeing anyone else either. I tired a few times, but—"

"—But what?" His voice rose in pitch.

"It didn't work out. I really like you." She did. He listened to her. He praised her, but not unnecessarily; he was not a sycophant. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked, because if the conversation was going where she thought it was, she wanted to be ready.

"Since I like you, and you like me, maybe we could . . . fuck I'm making a royal mess of this." Dave ran his right hand through his hair, tousling it. Messy was a good look on him.

"I think you're doing great. Go on." No stranger to encouraging reluctant admissions, she was eager for him to continue

"I'd like us both to not see anyone else," Dave blurted out, and from his horrified expression, she knew he did not mean to be that blunt.

She couldn't stop the grin that spread across her face. "You'd be my boyfriend."

"That is the general idea, yes."

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

On impulse he kissed her and she didn't mind in the least. However, a movie theater parking lot was not the most romantic of places for a make out session.

The following weekend, he picked her up to go ice skating. Bundled up as she was in her sweater and leggings, she still felt the chill of the indoor ice rink. Living in California really made her a cold weather wimp.

"What made you decide to study neurobiology?" he asked, taking her hand as they started skating.

Focusing some of her attention on not falling down, she replied, "I always thought the brain was fascinating. I wanted to know how humans work. Besides, with so much of the brain still unmapped, it's the one organ we don't understand that. I want to figure it out. It's a challenge."

"An exploration," Dave added, and while it was not the word she would have used to describe her work, once he said it aloud it fit well.

"Exactly," she agreed. "Why study math?" she asked in return.

Refamiliarizing herself with the gliding motion, she became more confident. Her confidence propelled her forward too quickly and she felt herself stumble.

She would have fallen were it not for Dave holding tightly onto her arm and pulling her upright and towards his center of gravity. In so doing, he winded up skating backwards, but rather than fall himself, he adjusted to the motion, pulling her along with him.

He took her hands again, looking over his shoulder instead of at her to ensure he did not crash into anyone. On a weekend, the ice rink was crowded with teenagers and families with young children all looking for a way to occupy themselves, more often than not skating erratically.

"Thank you," she said, slowing the pace of her skating. She didn't want to risk falling again. It was a near enough miss the first time, and she was only upright because of Dave. "When did you become such a good skater?"

"Which question do you want me to answer first?"

"Either."

"I frequently skated as a child. I like the uniformity of math. More than that, math is a linguistic explanation of the world, and it is in essence a series of definitions and conclusions obtained through the application of a series of logical manipulations to the definitions. Math is like a metaphor and there is no mathematical "Truth" to the universe. It is a language created by humans, consisting of signs, a tangible placeholder, and the concept that they represent. Any meaning, any conclusion can be created. Behind any application, math is in essence an exercise in thought. Without definition, without metaphor, math has no meaning."

"Elegant and predictable," Amy said, hearing the feeling and the raw passion behind his words. It made her shiver with anticipation. If that was the intensity with which he regarded her work, how much stronger would it be in his personal life?

She was eager to find out.

"Infallible," Dave returned, and she heard it in his voice again. While the passion receded as quickly as it came, it simmered beneath the surface, overwhelmed by the trauma of his past. When life failed him, math was constant. It made sense and would not disappoint him as it was inherently logically consistent.

"You're quite the philosopher. Why did you decide to teach?"

Her intellectual curiosity led her to only do research and not to have to teach classes. Students would distract her from her purpose which was the advancement of neurobiology.

"I like teaching," Dave said. " It's fulfilling work. My father and grandfather were both professors as well."

"Were?" Amy questioned.

"They're dead now."

"I'm sorry," Amy sympathized. She might not like her parents but she would not want them dead. She might not always get along with her father, and resent him for siding with her mother over her, but she loved him.

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault."

"Still, I shouldn't have pried. Shit!"

The expletive came without thought as one of her blades caught in the ice and sent her falling forward. Gravity pulled her down and though she felt Dave hold onto her again, the second time he wasn't quick enough to stop her fall. However, he did manage to spin her towards the wall where she caught herself.

"Thank you," she panted, having embarrassed herself for the second time. She was on a roll.

"You alright?" Dave asked, concerned, as Amy kept herself steady by holding tightly onto the wall.

"I'm fine. Just surprised," she said. She shouldn't be afraid. It wasn't the first time she'd been skating, and while she was not a proficient as him, she was not helpless.

He held out his hand to her. She waved it away.

"I don't want to drag you down with me next time," Amy explained her refusal. With two near misses, a third seemed inevitable.

"You won't," Dave promised, and grabbed onto her hand anyways.

Turning to skate backwards, he watched her feet and she followed him, still holding onto his hand.

"Make more of a V with your feet. It'll help with your balance."

Amy made the suggested adjustment and to her surprise, she did feel steadier. More confident, she picked up the pace, which Dave matched glide for glide. With his long legs, he had the advantage over her speed wise, though theoretically with her lower center of gravity she should have the better balance.

Once she was skating more confidently than before, he switched to skating next to her, still holding her hand.

"What are your friends like?" Dave asked out of the blue.

Amy tried to think. She must have mentioned them to him, but upon reflection, she hadn't. All the information about them were generalities, that they went on girls nights and the like.

"You've seen them already. In the parking lot."

"The ones who crashed into my car," Dave said.

There was no need to elaborate about that date. It put neither of them in a good light.

"Yes. Them. They're my best friends. Penny is a bit ditsy but she has a heart of gold and she means well. She's become a bit smarter over the years, and she can take on anyone in a fight. It's impossible not to like her. She's warm and open. And Bernadette is a microbiologist and she's a lot like a honey badger. Her voice is shrill and she's tiny, but she's downright scary when she's mad. Don't ever cross her."

Dave laughed. "She was the smaller one?"

While Dave might be more than two feet taller than Bernadette, it was no contest who would win in a confrontation. It would always be Bernadette.

"Yes. And she also has this really dark sense of humor sometimes."

"Maybe I could meet them officially sometime," Dave suggested.

Amy rolled her eyes, glad he could not see her face.

"They'd love that," she agreed. Ever since she started going out with Dave officially they'd begged her to introduce him. They were curious.

In their shoes, she'd be curious too, yet she was also hesitant to introduce him. She really liked him and he her, but her friends could be overwhelming at times. They overwhelmed her when she first met them, although she disguised her uncertainty well. It helped that she felt her emotions less acutely back then.

"You've told them about me," Dave surmised.

"Of course I have. You're my boyfriend."

He grinned.

"Why are you so happy?"

"You told your friends about me."

She could not miss that boastful tone. It did not irk her in the least.

"It's not a big deal," Amy said. "I tell them everything." She did. More than either of them ever wanted to know. Yet having him point her candor out was disconcerting, because her actions revealed more than her words that she was beginning to care about him.

At first he was interesting. Sexy. He was a good kisser and he could take her breath away and make her forget. He was stable and mature, and he could be good for her. When it came to politics and religion they were similar minded, and although those were not prerequisites for a relationship, it helped that they were of the same bent. It was a physical and mental attraction but with each date, each kiss, she felt the attraction deepening.

Gradually, it was becoming more. It could become a lot more if she only let it.

The problem was she wasn't sure she wanted to let it, because if she allowed it, it would be the final admission that she was moving on. From that point onwards, there would be no changing her mind. No going back.

If she allowed herself to care about him, she'd give him the power to disappoint her. Not that she thought he would. He was too gentle to intentionally hurt a fly, let alone a person, but emotionally he would hold great sway over her.

If his body language was any indication, he was coming to care for her more as well. If for some reason it didn't work out, and it was too early to know that yet, she could have the ability to hurt him, and she didn't want to do that either.

It was scary. It terrified her. She was drawn to him and did not want to back away, dangerous though that decision might be.

Everything was moving rapidly. A handful of months ago she didn't even know him and now she was contemplating a lot more.

"Don't be embarrassed," Dave said. She wasn't embarrassed. Not really. She was terrified for what the future may or may not hold. She disliked uncertainty.

"I'm not embarrassed," she protested. She wasn't. She had very little shame.

"If it helps any, I told my mates about you."

"What did you tell them?"

She wanted to know what he said, hopefully good. It was a good sign that he told his friends about her. Though sociology was hardly a reputable science in her mind, numerous sources suggested that men talked about their relationships with their friends far less frequently than women did. If he told his friends about her, it meant something. Didn't it.

She shivered in anticipation, though it could have been the cold from the ice rink as well.

"I told them that I'm dating a beautiful American woman."

"That's it?" Amy was in disbelief. Surely if he broached the subject it would have to extend beyond just that.

"What would you have liked me to tell them? That she's an amazing scientist."

He loosened his grip on her hand and ran his pointer finger laterally down her palm. The motion sent tingles through her entire hand.

"Don't do that. I'm ticklish," Amy protested. She didn't pull her hand away.

"That she covers up all her assets under multiple cardigans." Again he ran his finger laterally down her palm, the repetition causing the tingles to flare. Long after the touch ended she could still feel it, a ghostly reminder. She giggled again.

"I'm comfortable this way," she defended herself. She liked wearing cardigans. They kept her warm, even if it meant she boiled in the summer. They were a layer of protection, because if for some reason she passed out at a frat party again, she wouldn't wake up again with more clothes than she had on and would thus not have to bear the humiliation of being undesirable. Her clothing meant she was admired first for her mind and not her breasts.

Dave came to a stop and stepped off the ice rink. Amy followed him. He stood just to the side near the bleachers so that other people could enter and exit the ice rink as they wished, but as for him, he looked down at her.

Leaning in towards her, she could feel the tingle of his warm breath on her ear as he whispered huskily, "Did you want me to tell them that sometimes all I can think about is what she's hiding underneath all these bloody layers?"

His fingers pulled at her sweater and, simultaneously scandalized and turned on by his words, she playfully pushed his shoulders away from her.

"Dave!" Amy scolded. Don't say things like that. Only she never said it aloud. She didn't want to.

He desired her. Her body. Maybe she wanted to be respected for her intelligence, but her boyfriend just said he wanted to become intimate with her, and from their increasingly frequent and more heated kisses, she knew it was the inevitable direction their relationship was taking. Swept along by the tide, she happily followed along. The deep timbre of his voice as he whispered in her ear, and the intimacy at the close physical proximity, had her drowning in her desire.

She knew how to deal with letting her desires go unfulfilled. Unacknowledged. It was a routine dance but not this time. Not now.

"You want that too," Dave observed, not the least bit fooled by her automatic display.

"Yes."

She didn't have time to say anything else because she kissed him. She had to lean up on the tips of the blades, relying entirely on his body for balance. If he let her go she would fall over, and though her ankles ached at the awkward position and the plastic of the boots cut into her circulation she did not spare the discomfort a thought.

She could feel his desire for her in the kiss and it amplified her own. Only they were in public.

Dave guided her back down to stand steadily on her blades. She was about to protest the sudden change when her stomach growled.

Dave's grin let her know he heard it.

"Peckish are you? I saw a nice looking cafe down the block. Let's get you something to eat."

"I'm famished," Amy agreed. Skating took a surprising amount of energy out of her.

Rather than drive, they decided to walk the short distance to the cafe, enjoying the sunshine and the warm California air. It made her aware that she really did not get outside enough, focused as she was on her research in the lab and the indoor pursuits with her friends. They guys were nearly allergic to sunshine even wearing SPF 50.

He got a sandwich while she ordered a soup and salad, and while they waited for their meal to be brought out, she held his hand from across the table.

Remembering his earlier comment about infallibility, she felt a twinge of sympathy. Though neither of them were strangers to failed relationships, the reasons were vastly different. At least in hers she never had to worry about infidelity, be it mental, physical, or emotional.

"I'm not going to hurt you." It wasn't a promise she could keep. She could never actually promise not to hurt him, because there was no guarantee. But she did know was that she would do her best to prevent any pain he might feel. "I'm not your ex wife. I'm not going to cheat."

For that was the heart of the issue. While he cared about her, deep down he harbored doubts she might be like his ex wife. She wasn't, and he knew her well enough to know she wouldn't cheat on him, but emotional trauma ran deep. She understood it well. It characterized her every interaction with her mother.

"I know you're not her. Believe me, Amy, I do know."

"But you still won't open up to me. Not fully." From his expression her observation was correct, for that day as he talked about his profession, for the first time she saw him truly unmasked and open. It was different and she liked that side of him. She wanted to nurture that part, bring it to the forefront.

"You know but you don't act like it."

Dave sighed. "It isn't that simple."

"Neurobiologist remember. I understand." She was well qualified to understand the workings of the human brain even as much of it was still a mystery even to her and the top experts in her field.

"I think you're beautiful," he abruptly changed the subject. Diversion was a common indicator that the person was either uncomfortable or lying. However, she glanced down at the table and blushed at the compliment, absently poking at her salad with her fork but lacking the intention to spear a biteful.

"Thank you," she said.

"You don't believe me," he observed.

She glanced up at him, astonished he perceived that without her having to explicitly tell him that.

"How did you know?" she asked, more surprised than anything else.

"I can be observant too. Why don't you believe me? Who made you feel that way?"

Amy took a bite of her salad. The conversation was too intense for a small cafe but Dave sounded determined. There would be no diverting him.

"You wouldn't understand," Amy said. She did not mean it to be condescending, but it came across that way even to her own ears.

"I might not be a neurobiologist too but give me some credit."

Amy sighed. "Fine. My mother says I'm unattractive. Penny is beautiful and I'm the ugly duckling next to her. Raj has had a crush on practically every girl he's talked to, but not me. When I was in college I went to a frat party and woke up with more clothes on. My last boyfriend had to be coerced into kissing me most of the time. So if you're the expert, you tell me why everyone seems to find me repulsive."

"I'm sorry all that happened to you, but it doesn't mean anything to me. I think you're very attractive."

"Really?" She came across as hopeful and she despised the vulnerability she projected.

"Really. Your eyes light up when you talk about the brain, and you have the oddest sense of humor. You're almost frank to the point of being off-putting, but you're so kind it's impossible to take offense. You're smarter than I am, and your right pinky finger twitches whenever you are about to correct someone."

"Does not!"

Yet even at her exclamation she felt it, now made aware of the slight movement. The way Dave raised his eyebrows at her let her know he felt the movement as well.

"Fine. Maybe a little. But not every time."

There it was again. That twitch. Dave's mouth upturned in amusement and she saw him trying not to laugh before he gave up entirely and let loose.

"Yes every time," he said when he finally stopped laughing.

She glared at him in return. It wasn't funny. She was completely in control of her body language.

"No it doesn't. I'll prove it to you."

Stupid reflexive motion that she had not even noticed until Dave brought it up. Her newest failed attempt caused him to laugh at her expense once more.

"I told you you can't help it."

"Yes I can!"

Twitch.

Annoying though it was, no matter how hard she tried she could not stop it. Even conscious of the movement it still happened despite her efforts to will her hand to be still.

"No you can't." There was no malice there. Only amusement and disagreement.

She hated loosing arguments but the current evidence would appear to support his hypothesis.

"You're impossible."

"You just don't want to admit defeat."

"I can prove you wrong." Twitch. Damn autonomic nervous system. It was really messing with her at the moment.

He chuckled at the feigned furious look she assumed, but as she looked at him, expression open and full of laughter, she felt her exasperation fade away and she joined in the laughter.

AN: What do I do after spending the last five hours arguing with LaTex about the correct formatting for my thesis while it metaphorically flips me off? Procrastinate by posting fanfiction. I'm warning everyone now that my updates may be slower for the rest of the month as in the next week and a half I have to finish and present my thesis while flying around the country to tour the three law schools that offered me full tuition scholarships (yay! but it makes the decision about where to go so much harder).

To guest reviewer who I couldn't respond to personally: Amy isn't perfect. While the last chapter did reference the brief time when she wanted to be his girlfriend again, she didn't actually mean it. She'd had a string of rough dates, was feeling lonely, had lingering embarrassment from her 'teenage rebellion', and had to put up with her family. She was upset and wanted to take the easy and familiar way out and get back together with Sheldon, but once she had time to think about it she would have changed her mind. (I've seen so many people get back together with their exes even when they're incompatible or it was a bad relationship for the comfort, familiarity, or the realization that it is really hard to start a new relationship. I think Amy's moment of weakness a couple days previously is plausible.) She and Sheldon both know there is no way to compromise; one of them will have to make a sacrifice, which isn't fair to either of them. Sheldon's a smart guy. He probably would have figured a lot of this out on his own, difficulties understanding emotions not withstanding, which is why he doesn't mention it. Though as for Part II, it focuses entirely on Amy and Sheldon apart.