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CHAPTER 16

"I wish you would've explained all this from the beginning," Amy says. Even if everything Simon has said is true, she's still angry. There's no excuse for him to have not told her everything, instead leaving her and her injured brain to try to solve the mystery of his ridiculous choices with incomplete information.

He scoffs. "I did. I must've gone over every detail five or six times on the first day alone. You kept forgetting every time you fell asleep, which isn't all that unusual right after a traumatic brain injury. Anyway, I thought I had explained everything well enough this last time, but I was sick of the process by then, and I guess I might have missed some facts."

Amy is incredulous. "You guess? There's no guessing here. You definitely missed some facts!"

"Yeah, well, you also jumped to some conclusions." His voice sounds defensive, and he folds his arms across his chest before adding, "You shouldn't presume important things like that."

She can't think of any other conclusion she could've drawn under these circumstances. "Maybe I shouldn't. But more importantly, you sure as hell shouldn't tie an injured woman to a bed in an abandoned house and leave her to think the worst instead of explaining yourself as thoroughly as possible. There's no 'maybe' about that at all!"

Finally, he starts to look chastened. His voice is soft and regretful when he admits, "I really thought you knew, but I guess not. I'm sorry."

Not in a forgiving mood, Amy doesn't respond. She supposes she should start to feel relief, but all she can muster is exhaustion. Beyond the swamping tiredness, it's hard to feel much of anything other than the pounding pain in her head and the burning ache of her injured limbs.

After a moment of silence, he asks, "Who are you going to call?"

Amy wants to speak to Sheldon more than anyone else in the whole world right now, but she knows there are certain things that must take precedence. She licks her chapped lips and says, "For as long as I've been gone, I'm certain that I'll need to speak to law enforcement. I could call my friends, but they would only call 911 anyway, so I might as well do that myself."

Simon nods, and she sees the dejected slump of his shoulders. He mumbles, "After everything that you've said, I know how shitty all of this will sound. They're going to want to arrest me."

As exhausted, confused, and angry as she feels right now, Amy still has no desire to pursue charges against this man. Everything that he has told her has turned the past day upside down. It's hard to accept that she could've gotten everything so wrong. At least he is now starting to show signs that he understands how awful all of this has been for her.

"They're not going to arrest you. It's true that you should've called for help, but you did save my life."

Simon looks at her with an expression of guarded hope. "So you do believe me?"

She fiddles with the phone in her hand while she considers her answer. "It's been difficult to think clearly, but I have to admit that what you've said sounds right. As far as I can tell, you've done nothing to hurt me and have actively taken many steps to help me."

His sigh of relief is loud, and he runs his hands over his face before wiping them on his pant legs. "I sure hope the fuzz is as reasonable as you are. But even if they believe both of us, they might not be so forgiving about my little visit to gather medical supplies."

That's a sensible thing to worry about. "Yeah, they might not look kindly upon that particular decision. However, much like your poor decision to keep me here, if your intention was to help save a life, then I think you'll be okay."

He grunts but doesn't look convinced.

Amy continues, "Perhaps it would be easiest if you aren't here when they respond to my call."

His eyes flit to hers, turning wide with apparent surprise. "You're going to let me go?"

The irony of him being the one to ask that question is not lost on her. She never expected to hear something like that spoken in his voice rather than hers. She shrugs. "I don't know your real name, and I doubt the police would be able to find you. If I explain everything that happened, I doubt they'll care enough to pursue you anyway."

For the first time ever, his smile doesn't creep her out. "I want to go back to my life just as much as you do."

Rather than return his smile, Amy's face contorts with a yawn. She doesn't remember ever feeling so tired in her entire life. After everything that she's been through, she doesn't think she'll ever be able to bring herself to apologize for her assumptions about Simon, nor does she think she can forgive him for scaring the hell out of her. If he had just acted like a normal person in the first place, none of this would've happened.

In spite of all that, the fact remains that he did save her life. It's a struggle for her to force out the words, and she can't manage more than a strangled whisper when she says, "Thank you for helping me."

He nods at the same time as he stands up. There isn't much around to pack, but he shoves a few errant items into his backpack. "You should call soon, before you fall asleep again. If you're lucky enough to have people who love you, then I'm sure you don't want to make them wait any longer than necessary to have you back."

Amy thinks of Sheldon, her mother, Penny, Bernadette, and the guys. She is lucky to have them all in her life, and she finds herself with a brief twinge of pity for the strange, lonely man who has kept her here for the past five days.

Right before he leaves, he turns back to her and says, "No offense, but I hope I never see or hear from you again."

Feeling safer and more relaxed with every passing minute, Amy is able to work up the nerve to return the sentiment. "Well, it looks like we finally have something in common. No offense, but even though you saved my life, I still think you're the biggest jerk I've ever met."

He laughs out loud at that and offers a rejoinder, "Yeah, you're right. I sort of am. But you know what? I still think you're an impossible pain in the ass."

With that parting statement, he strides out of the room. Amy can hear his footsteps echo off the wooden floor as he retreats. His exit out the back door involves a noisy thump or two, but shortly thereafter she can sense his absence. Alone and free at last, she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, savoring the welcome feeling of freedom.

She gives him a minute to get some distance away. It's difficult to fight the heavy weight of her eyelids while she waits, and even the promise of going home is barely enough to keep her awake. When at last she thumbs out the three digits to call for help, she wonders if anyone else has ever felt so happy to call 911 on their own behalf.

—-

Making his way around the outside of the house, Sheldon stops at each window and tries to peek inside. Every single window he has checked so far has been blocked with either curtains or blinds, causing his frustration to escalate as the minutes go by. Even worse, his attempts to nudge open each one have shown him that these entry points are also locked. The front door is no better.

As he has at many other points in his life, he wishes he could possess special powers like the superheroes in his comic books. Superman would be able to bust straight through a wall to rescue an endangered woman with finesse and ease. Sheldon figures that if he attempted it, then he would only succeed in dislocating his shoulder.

As he rounds the corner to the back of the house, he continues to check each window. He finds one that seems to have a faint glow peeking out through the tiny gaps in the blinds, so he leans towards it to listen. Once again he can hear voices from within, and they sound much louder from this spot. Sheldon becomes more confident than ever that one of those voices belongs to Amy.

He can't make out specific words, but her tone sounds angry. His heart rate rises as his adrenaline surges, making his entire body sweat and his breathing quicken. A glance to his phone shows no update from DiSalvo, and he can't allow himself to wait one minute longer. Amy might be in danger, and he refuses to stand here like a fool and let something happen to her. He attempts to twist the knob on the back door, only to find it locked just like the rest.

This door seems flimsier than the front door, though. Or at least that's what he wants to believe. Part of him knows that trying to break this door down with nothing but his own body is a fanciful hope, not a scientifically probable outcome. But Sheldon's sense of logic and reason is overrun by his anger and his fear. Eyeing the rear door, he takes several steps back and tries to summon the strength and rage of the Hulk. With a quick burst of speed, he lunges at it, throwing his entire body shoulder first into the solid wood.

As the laws of physics dictate, he bounces impotently off of it, causing no damage other than to his own shoulder. He winces with the pain and laments the fact that his efforts have resulted in nothing but a brief thump of noise. So much for not being a fool.

Rubbing his shoulder and trying to think of a more sensible plan, Sheldon is torn from his thoughts by the sudden movement of the door. It swings inward, and he finds himself face to face with a person that he has never seen before. The stranger emerges slowly, allowing the door to swing closed behind him.

Sheldon stares at the man, whose unkempt beard and long hair remind him of a hippie. Shock shifts to anger in a fraction of a second. "Hey! Who are you? Where's Amy?"

The man doesn't respond to his questions, instead taking a quick step sideways. This person is as tall as he is, and he must outweigh him by a good forty pounds, but that doesn't stop Sheldon from diving at him.

"Shit," the man whispers as he dodges out of the way.

By the time he spins back around, Sheldon sees that the stranger has started sprinting across the backyard. Without a second thought, he races after the man, his arms and legs pumping up and down faster than he ever has in his whole life. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Sheldon's fastest isn't very fast.

In spite of his best efforts, he cannot even come close to catching up. He stops at a neighboring fence, panting and out of breath. Bending at the waist with his hands on his knees, he begins to wonder what he would have even done if he had caught the man. With his next breath, he realizes that the man's absence means that Amy is back there alone.

Mad at himself now for wasting time on a futile chase, he turns on his heel and runs back towards the house, back towards Amy. Feeling frantic and foolish with every stride, he comes to a halt and reaches out to grab the doorknob once again.

"Stop! Police!"

He barely has time to register the words before he finds himself face down on the ground, shoved by a burly officer who now straddles his back. He feels cold metal clamp around his wrists, and tries to catch his breath well enough that he can start to explain.

"Wait!" he gasps. "I'm not the bad guy. That's my girlfriend in there."

"Sure she is, buddy," the officer retorts. "And you just happen to be out here skulking around, sweaty and looking like a maniac, trying to break into this place where someone just called 911. Nothing weird about that at all, eh?"

Sheldon continues to fight for breath and briefly wonders why the officer has addressed him as 'buddy'. Surely one doesn't handcuff one's buddy?

A female officer walks over, and together the two of them haul him to his feet. The woman's pinching grip on his freshly bruised shoulder makes him try to pull away, but that only causes them both to tighten their grips even more. He keeps trying to yank his arm away until the male officer warns, "Calm down, man! We don't want to have to get out the taser."

Having experienced that device before, Sheldon freezes his defiant movements. He looks up at the restraining officers, planning to try to reason with them instead. Before he has a chance to speak, however, he is distracted by the sight of a few paramedics rushing by with an empty stretcher. They throw open the back door, and Sheldon careens his head from side to side, trying but failing to make out anything in the shadows behind them.

The police start to drag him around the side of the house despite his choked protests. "No, you don't understand. I'm the one who made contact with you guys. You're making a mistake!"

"Look, buddy, we got two calls: one from the Sheriff's station and then another two minutes ago from 911 dispatch. You can't be the woman who called into 911, so unless you're a deputy who got beamed here Star Trek style, then save your breath."

Halfway across the front lawn now, Sheldon squeaks, "DiSalvo! I told him to send help here. Call him, he'll tell you. I'm Sheldon Cooper. He knows me."

For the first time, they loosen their hold and look at him with some small degree of credulity. The woman raises an eyebrow and asks, "Oh yeah? So what's his first name?"

He tries to rein in his galloping thoughts, to wrack his brain for the answer to this simple question. It's so unlike him to forget anything, but try as he might, the answer doesn't come. The swirling colored lights of the emergency vehicles don't make it any easier to think. "I can'tâ€Ĥ I can't remember. I always called him by his last name."

The woman opens the rear door of the police car, and the two of them nudge him inside it. He ducks his head lest it bang off the frame of the door, and before they close him in, he begs one last time, "Please, call him. You've got to straighten this out."

The male officer pulls a phone out of his pocket and holds it up. "Sit tight. We'll let you go after we arrange a quick trip to the station to see Deputy DiSalvo in person, assuming that he verifies your story, of course. It's more likely that we should be calling psych services, but hey, we'll give this a shot first."

They flick the door shut, enclosing him in the small space. His long legs are squeezed into the tight confines of the backseat, with his knees pressed against the hard divider that separates the front seats from the back. Behind him, his hands remain trapped by the cuffs, adding even more to his discomfort. In an effort to keep the encroaching feelings of claustrophobia at bay, he leans his face close to the window to look outside.

Sheldon's breathing begins to slow while he watches the officer place the call that should begin the process of securing his freedom. It is taking much too long, and he has no desire to end up at the station instead of the hospital, but it doesn't look like he's going to have any choice in the matter. He taps his foot impatiently and wishes that he could lecture them about their inefficiency. His attention shifts when he spots new movement behind the officers. The paramedics have emerged from behind the house, and they make their way across the yard, their gurney now burdened by the small lump of a person's body.

He can't see her face, but he can see the long brown hair on the back of her head. "Amy! Amy! Amy!" he shouts. With his hands wedged behind his back, he can't knock on the window, so he futilely bangs his good shoulder into the side of the car instead.

It looks like she is turning her head, but his view becomes obscured as the EMTs move her behind the ambulance doors to load her up. Once the vehicle begins to pull away, he leans back against the headrest and closes his eyes in defeat. He's felt powerless from the moment Amy first broke up with him, and he supposes he really ought to be used to it by now.

Logically, Sheldon knows that the police will soon piece together the truth and that he will see her again before long. At the same time, he wonders when his life might start to make sense again, if things will ever go right again instead of endlessly, helplessly wrong.

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