The instant Amy opened the door, the smell of alcohol hit Sheldon, and he waved his hand before him in a vain attempt to clear the air. Though it was only four PM, she was dressed in pajama-like clothes, her hair pulled into sloppy pigtails.

"So. You came after all," her voice was a shard of ice.

"I came to give you the honor of yelling at you in person," Sheldon answered, in his usual no-nonsense smartass way. "I don't understand you, Amy Farrah-Fowler! You have the audacity to correct any behavior of mine you don't like, yet you get to threaten me with a breakup."

"Well, you could have at any minute threatened me with the same thing."

"But I didn't, because I respect you," Sheldon said triumphantly.

Some of the pain seemed to clear from her eyes, but she still didn't sound much happier. "Maybe I'm being ridiculous."

"Maybe. Want to tell me why one of the greatest minds in Pasadena is drunk?"

Amy turned and shuffled inside, and Sheldon followed her. "I'm sad, Sheldon," Amy finally said, her voice breaking on emotion that startled him. "Penny's married, Bernadette's having twins. What about me? What about us? We're still in love, aren't we?"

"Yes!"

"I'm getting too old to have any children at all. We're not married. We don't express our love often enough. And I would do anything to become a mother." Amy refilled her wine glass with a shaking hand. "A boy is my first preference, but I'd love my daughter equally. Whatever I have would be my biggest pride and joy - the one thing I can leave behind when I die. To mark my place. To let people know I was ever here."

Overwhelmed, Sheldon offered, "You can write an autobiography."

She shook her head. "It's not the same thing. I don't want my...my footprint, to be the product of sitting behind a computer screen. I want laughter, and love, and memories to look back on. I want what Bernadette's going to have." She sighed and resolutely lifted her chin. "And if you absolutely do not want children, then I have to find someone who does before it's too late."

"I can handle children!" Sheldon said hotly. "It's what they do, think, and say that drives me up the wall."

"We would guide them," Amy said bitterly. "We would influence those things. It would be okay. And on days we need a break, we could give them to your friends...or your sister, or your mother. You know your mom would take good care of our kids."

"Kids!" Sheldon blinked. "How many do you want?"

"At least one. More would be nice. It would add more of the laughter and love I was talking about." Amy sat on the couch.

"Well...Where would we live? Here?"

Amy shook her head. "No, this is a one-bedroom." I don't know, I kind of thought we would move into your apartment, and we would share a room and the kid or kids would get the other..." Her voice trailed off and she set the full wine glass onto the coffee table. "I'm sorry, Sheldon. I didn't mean to scare you over here. I just thought..."

Sheldon raised his brows expectantly.

"I don't know. I thought wine would help. It always seems to loosen Penny up."

"Penny's loose enough sober. Are you sure you want her as a role model?"

In the following silence he sat next to her. "Amy...you have six friends," he said importantly. "I didn't have this many people in my family. Surely you can see why I think there's plenty of love and laughter for you right now."

"I can! I absolutely can. But I want to be tied with you. I want to pass on our genes."

Sheldon sighed and nodded. "They are good genes."

Amy stared across the room, and finally, hesitantly, looked at him. "I don't want to be forgotten."

"You won't!"

"Okay, what about you? Unless you make a breakthrough in science, or save a life, or do some other remarkable thing; what will you be remembered for?"

Sheldon's face darkened. "I came over here to cheer you up. And all that did is bring me down with you."

Amy finished the glass and sighed. "Want some wine?"

"No. I want a real drink."

Amy got up and walked, albeit unsteadily, to the fridge. Pulling out a bottle of beer she handed it to him. "You realize we still don't have any answers?"

"Well...Some people leave footprints in the sand, and some just draw and write in it."

"I can draw and write well enough. I want the journey." She leaned against the counter. "Things are happening all around me; and I'm just stuck in the same room picking at brain matter. It's not enough."

Sheldon watched her gyrate the bottle, letting the wine churn. As she uncapped the bottle and took a deep pull, Sheldon noticed the faint lines beginning to show beneath her eyes.

She drained the bottle and set it down with a clatter. "I don't want to just be remembered as the neurobiologist who pleasured a starfish. I want more than that for myself. I mean...who wouldn't?"

Sheldon reached out to steady her as she tottered a little. "Maybe you should lie down."

"Okay," she mumbled, and he draped an arm around her. As a pair they began walking slowly toward the bedrooms, and she leaned her head on his arm.