—
CHAPTER 17
Penny sits next to Leonard in the drab waiting room of the Palmdale Regional Medical Center. She taps her foot and fidgets, unable to contain her impatience.
After receiving the call from Deputy DiSalvo, she had grabbed Leonard before hurrying to drive to the hospital. They arrived at least an hour after Amy, but they have not been able to see her yet nor have they received any recent updates about her condition. Between the mad dash to get here and the previous days spent on frenzied searches, it is frustrating to now sit and do nothing.
Beside her, Leonard taps his fingers on the arms of his chair, no doubt working off some excess energy. Every ten seconds or so he glances down at his phone. It's almost midnight, meaning they've already been here for close to two hours, and it worries her that Sheldon has not been answering calls from either of them. She knows how much he would want to be here right now. To work off her own anxious feelings, Penny examines her fingernails, trying and failing not to pick at her manicure.
Her head shoots up at the sound of someone rushing into the room. At long last, it's Sheldon. She looks him over from head to toe and sees that his hair is sticking up in messy tufts, his clothes are rumpled and dusty, and his face is shiny with sweat. He glances at her and Leonard with frantic, red-rimmed eyes.
"Have you seen Amy? How is she?" he asks, running his hand through his tousled hair.
"Where the hell have you been?" Penny asks, wanting answers of her own.
"The sheriff's office. They can't seem to stop trying to put me in jail. DiSalvo finally came in to clear things up, but that's not important any more. Now, what do you know about Amy?"
She wants to know more about this trip to the police, but until they have news about Amy, she supposes her curiosity will have to wait.
Leonard answers, "We were told that she is resting, but we haven't seen her or gotten any kind of detailed update yet. Why don't you sit—"
Sheldon turns and strides towards the nurse's station, apparently as uninterested in sitting still as she and Leonard have been. They stand and go over to join him. Maybe he will fare better at getting information from the lady at the desk than they did.
The nurse is pale and thin, and her dark hair is cut short and tidily. She wears thin spectacles, solid navy blue scrubs, and a strict facial expression.
"I'm sorry sir, but like I told these two, until we finish our assessment, I can't allow anyone to see her other than immediate family."
Penny wants to argue again, but the woman had not been swayed by her earlier insistence that she is as good as a sister to Amy. She wonders if the stubborn nurse will be able to withstand a stubborn Sheldon.
"I am family. I'm her boyfriend."
The woman looks unimpressed. Penny can't really blame her. With his sloppy appearance and crazy eyes, he looks like a guest who should be screened and escorted to the nearest exit.
"Look, if you give me your name, we'll ask her if she'd like to see you just as soon as we can."
She and Leonard gave their names quite some time ago, so she suspects that 'as soon as we can' is a pretty flexible timetable around here. From the look on his face, she can tell that Sheldon finds this proposal unacceptable.
"I want to see her right now," he demands, raising his voice.
"There is protocol to be followed, sir. These rules are for our patients' own protection."
"If you can't let me in, then your protocol is deficient!"
The nurse narrows her eyes at all three of them. "Do I need to call security?"
"No, no more law enforcement," he pleads. "They're always trying to tase me."
That statement isn't going to help his cause. The nurse takes a step back and raises a nervous eyebrow. Thankfully, before things can escalate further, Leonard steps in and says, "Wait. Sheldon, aren't you and Amy one another's medical emergency contact person?"
Her little man is a genius, remembering how those weirdos celebrated Valentine's Day a few years ago. That tidbit of information might help get Sheldon in to see Amy before he starts causing an even bigger scene.
The nurse continues to eye Sheldon as if she's two seconds away from calling to have him hauled away. He gives a grateful looking nod to Leonard and says, "Yes, of course. That's right!"
He turns his wild gaze back to the woman and insists, "Check her information and her health care directive. I'm Dr. Sheldon Cooper."
The nurse steps hesitantly forward and taps a few keys on her keyboard, darting her eyes up every few seconds to give him a few more glares. Her expression morphs into one of surprise when she says, "Well, how about that? I do see a Sheldon Cooper here as Ms. Fowler's—"
"Dr. Fowler."
Penny rolls her eyes at his interruption. He's about to get what he wants, but here he is making it more difficult on himself.
With a curt voice, the nurse finishes, "Dr. Fowler's emergency contact."
"Finally. It would've been easier if you'd just let me in to begin with. Now, where do I find her?"
The nurse tilts her head and shoots him one last wary look. "I'm going to need to see some I.D. first."
—
"Amy has already been through triage and admitted for observation. Her doctors have ordered a few precautionary tests, and they want to keep her here at least until morning."
The nurse who leads him to Amy's room is decidedly more helpful than the one who gave him a difficult time at the information desk. Where the other woman was thin and severe, this nurse is more rotund and kind. She looks almost too young to be a nurse, with her smooth, dark face and bright Snoopy scrubs. This one even smiles from time to time. More importantly, she is willing to provide information.
Even with his efficient guide, Sheldon feels increasingly nervous with every step he takes. His hatred of hospitals is well entrenched, and the fact that Amy is in this one somewhere, injured and in pain, only makes it a more ominous place than ever.
They come to a halt outside of one of many nondescript rooms. The door to this one is closed, but he sees Amy's name printed on some paperwork attached to a clipboard outside the door. In all capital letters, the paper shouts, 'AMY FOWLER'. He has to fight the impulse to pick up the clipboard and write in her middle name. It doesn't look right without the FARRAH.
Sheldon knows he should be focusing on something more useful. But every time he starts pondering Amy's condition, every time he starts thinking of her ordeal and her possible injuries, he finds it more and more difficult to breathe. With the knowledge that she is resting only one door's width away, the anxiety is almost impossible to keep at bay.
He wonders if perhaps it is the not knowing that is the worst of it. The nurse clears her throat, breaking him from his trance. He's not sure how long he has been standing there, staring at the door in silence. As Amy's medical contact person, he supposes that they will tell him about her status, but it's difficult to ask questions when he is so nervous about what the answers might be. His voice is strained and quiet when he finally manages to ask, "You said they want to keep her overnight and do a few tests. What else can you tell me about her condition? I want to know everything."
After a quick nod of understanding, the nurse says, "Okay. Well, first of all, she is stable. Her injuries were sustained over five days ago, and she received some degree of treatment during that time, so her situation is a bit unique as trauma cases go. Orthopedics wants an X-ray of her right wrist and her left ankle. It is suspected that both are no worse than sprained, but it's a simple matter to double check for any kind of fracture. Dr. Fowler's most serious issue is a wound to her head. She has a laceration that has been closed with stitches, and she is not actively bleeding, but the blunt force trauma to her head was a significant enough event that the neurology department wants us to keep her under observation for the night."
The nurse clears her throat before continuing, "Dr. Fowler was in varying states of consciousness during the early days after her injuries occurred. In spite of her insistence that it wasn't necessary, we advised her to allow us to do a brief gynecological exam, and she did eventually acquiesce."
Sheldon looks up from where he has been staring at Amy's door. Thankfully, the nurse doesn't hesitate in her explanation. "The physical exam showed no signs of sexual trauma whatsoever, just as she had anticipated, but the extra peace of mind never hurts."
He nods absentmindedly. It's a relief to know what's going on, but at the same time, his chest constricts at the fact that such an exam has been necessary in the first place. Even though there is no indication of sexual assault, just hearing the term is enough to make his jaw clench and his heart pound with the desire to fight someone.
The man he wants to rage against is not within reach, so he forces himself to take a few calming breaths. He counts to ten and reaches his hand out to steady himself on the doorframe. He has one last question, and it comes out as a quiet murmur. "Is she in pain?"
There is a brief pause before the woman answers. "I would imagine so. She has been refusing pain medication beyond the basic ibuprofen. That's an unusual choice given this kind of head injury."
Sheldon nods and starts turning the doorknob. Before he pushes it open, she adds, "One last thing. A deputy from the Sheriff's Department has requested that no one speak to Amy about the specifics of her ordeal until they have gotten a chance to question her. He should be by soon. The name was Jack DiSalvo."
Jack! Now that he hears the deputy's first name again, he wonders how he could have forgotten it. He nods at the nurse and remembers his manners. "Thank you."
She hurries off to a room further down the hall, leaving Sheldon all by himself. He gently swings open Amy's door, not wanting to be alone for long.
His heart skips a beat when he sees her lying there. Finally, she's back.
He closes the door behind him, taking care to do so as quietly as possible. Amy's eyes are closed, and he sees her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of her sleeping breaths. There is a tidy bandage along her hairline near her right temple, and he sees a black fabric sleeve wrapped around her right wrist. He can't see her injured ankle, but there is a bulge under the sheet, an indication that it is being kept elevated.
On the other side of the room is a second bed. The privacy curtain between the two areas is half open, revealing that this other space is currently unoccupied. Content to be alone with Amy, Sheldon takes slow steps to her bedside. Up close there are scrapes and faded bruises visible on her cheeks, arms, and hands. Her fingernails are a ragged mess, and he makes a mental note to pick up some clippers and a nail file so that he can fix those for her.
The room is quiet, with the exception of her soft snores and the steady beeps of a heart monitor. Her uninjured hand has an IV in it, making him wonder if there are any areas of her body left that aren't hurting right now.
She appears to be resting peacefully, but he is tempted to wake her nonetheless. He wants to see the unusual hazel shade of her eyes, to see the spark of intelligence that is brighter than that of any other person he has ever known. After a brief moment of contemplation, he decides that waking her would be a more selfish action than he is willing to partake in at this time.
Still, the compulsion to touch her is overwhelming. For most of Sheldon's life, he has been incredibly touch averse. Amy, however, remains a notable exception. There has always been something different about her. He remembers how she once experimented by holding his hand and, in another instance, how she requested he cuddle her in a moment of sadness. If anyone else would've asked for such things from him, they would've been met with a derisive no. But not Amy. From holding hands to hugs to kisses, physical expressions of affection have grown steadily bolder since those first interactions.
Having not touched her in over two weeks, he now feels touch starved as opposed to touch averse. It's still a bit difficult to admit to himself just how much he wants to feel her skin. As gently as possible, he brushes the tips of his fingers against the part of her hand that doesn't have the IV attached. Her skin is soft, but slightly chilled. After he pulls his hand back, he reaches for her blanket and tugs it up to cover her more fully.
A black vinyl chair is several feet away, and Sheldon nudges it over so that he can sit close to the bed. Having her right next to him frees something in his brain, and he feels a relaxed sleepiness that he hasn't felt since before she went missing—perhaps even since she first broke things off.
Maybe remembering the breakup should make him sad, but it doesn't. She has articulated her reasoning in her letters, and he understands her concerns. Even so, she has it all so very wrong that it makes it difficult for him to think of the breakup as real. With her decision based on incorrect assumptions and incomplete information, he considers it null and void. In fact, he is rather looking forward to haranguing her about her logical failures once she is feeling better.
Sheldon battles back the selfish urge to touch her hand a second time, but he does allow himself to lean his body against the side of her bed. Seconds tick by, marked by the rhythm of Amy's breaths and the consistent electronic pings of her heart monitor. He yawns and fights to keep his eyes open, but each blink becomes longer and longer as he is lulled by the comfort of her presence.
Gravity is always a powerful force, and it feels stronger than ever right now. His heavy head plops gently onto the soft blanket near her hip. Before drifting off to sleep, his final thought is spent hoping that he won't wake her up by drooling through her sheet.
—
Amy gasps awake at a firm squeezing sensation around her bicep. A quick look at her surroundings reminds her that she is no longer trapped in that house, and the relief is instantaneous. Her body still hurts in more places than she cares to consider, but at least her brief nap is allowing her to think a bit more clearly now.
On her left is the source of her awakening, a nurse in Snoopy scrubs who is taking a blood pressure reading. "Sorry, 1 AM vitals check," she whispers.
The woman gives her an apologetic expression and then inclines her head downward, covering her lips with her index finger, the universal symbol to stay quiet. She follows the woman's prompting gesture and looks down to see why.
At her hip is Sheldon's sleeping face. He looks pale, tired, and more gaunt than she remembers. His hair is sticking up at odd angles, his face is smooshed awkwardly against the bed, and it looks like he's been doing some serious drooling on the linens. Still, he is every bit as attractive to her as he's always been. Even as injured as she is, the sight of his face so close to her southern borders causes her bruised brain to skip down an extremely prurient path.
Her heartbeat monitor speeds up, and the nurse wrinkles her brow in concern. Amy feels heat rush to her cheeks, embarrassed to be caught staring at the man she loves while the result pings out on the monitor for an outsider to hear. The nurse suddenly gives a soft snort, having no doubt figured out the cause of her patient's 'distress.' She turns her eyes to Amy and silently mouths, 'He's cute.'
The altered rhythm of sound is enough to rouse the cute man from his sleep. Sheldon blinks open pink-rimmed eyes, and when his gaze lock with hers, he stops blinking altogether. He does not break eye contact while he slowly raises his head up from the mattress.
"Are you okay?" he whispers.
Before she can answer, she sees him swallow hard and then turn to the nurse. His tone is more brusque when he addresses the woman, "What's wrong? Why is her heartbeat racing?"
Amy shoots her a pleading look. The woman smiles and shrugs. "Oh, I probably startled her when I woke her with this blood pressure check."
"Are you sure? It's not a sign that something's wrong?"
The nurse's smile widens, and she winks at him. "No sir, I'd say it's a fantastic sign. Banging out a strong, steady rhythm can be a very good thing. If you know what I mean."
Sheldon, of course, doesn't seem to know what she means. Amy watches his brow wrinkle up in puzzlement.
After a brief, knowing glance of camaraderie, she pulls the clip from Amy's finger, removing the pesky sound from the room. Addressing Amy this time, she continues, "In fact, your heart rate has been quite consistent, and you don't need to keep this on all the time anymore. That's the good news. The bad news is that I still have to be back to annoy you at regular intervals all night to check your vitals. If everything continues to look healthy, I bet they'll spring you in the morning."
She gives the woman a grateful nod, and Sheldon appears equally assuaged, if for different reasons. He returns his attention to Amy, staring at her with intensity, but at least now he blinks from time to time.
The nurse scribbles something onto her chart and starts to head to the door. "Don't you two get too comfortable," she warns as she leaves. "Radiology will be here shortly for X-rays."
The door clicks shut behind the woman, leaving Amy in awkward silence with Sheldon. That's okay. If they weren't sitting in awkward silence, they would be sitting and awkwardly talking instead, and she's not quite sure how to even begin saying everything that needs to be said. Her probable infertility, the breakup, the letters, her journey, the accident, and her captivity all swirl through her mind. There are so many things to explain, but for now she enjoys the comforting blue shade of his irises.
She has been dreaming for days about having his familiar face by her side rather than Simon's mysterious countenance. It is kind of surreal to have it finally come true. He looks every bit as tired and stressed out as she feels, but even in his exhausted state, he doesn't seem to be having any difficulty focusing on her.
In fact, soon his scrutiny becomes unnerving. Is he angry? Tired? Sad? Happy to see her? Anxious for explanations? Maybe he's all of those things. The desire to know what he's thinking has grown stronger with every passing second, and she can't stand the silence anymore. She decides to break their staring contest by volleying back his earlier question. "Sheldon, are you okay?"
He nods at her very slowly. "I am now," he whispers, and she thinks she detects a hint of a smile forming in the thin line of his mouth.
His answer intrigues her. The ragged appearance of his eyes, hair, and clothing tells her that he has not been doing well in her absence. Regardless of their relationship status, if he had been the one to go missing, she knows she would have been a wreck too. Worried for him, she wants to know more.
When he doesn't offer anything else, she licks her dry lips and tries to prompt him. "Because you look kind of terrible."
She understands how ridiculous that must sound given her own current state. It's not like she's prepped for a beauty pageant here herself. A mirror isn't necessary for her to know how bad it must be. Surely tumbling off part of a cliff hasn't done anything to improve her physical allure.
He shrugs a little but doesn't speak, so she continues to prod, "Have you been eating and sleeping okay?"
For some reason, something goes through that brilliant mind of his that causes him to smile. "No, I haven't."
The thought of him not taking care of himself is upsetting. If he were the one in danger, she'd never be able to eat or sleep like normal either, so it's easy to empathize. Still, she hates to think that he has been suffering because of her in any way. What bothers her the most, though, is the fact that he seems happy about it.
"Sheldon, you know as well as I do the effects of poor nutrition and disrupted sleep patterns on the brain."
His smile widens, perplexing her further. "Oh?"
"Yes, of course. Lack of sleep causes serious impairment in cognitive function. Neurons start to malfunction and neuronal connections begin to deteriorate."
He tilts his head. "Mm-hmm."
"Your neocortex might start to have memory lapses, and your parietal lobe can begin to have slower logical thought processes. Your altered temporal lobe might start causing you to slur your speech, and problems with your frontal lobe can affect your imagination and ability to focus. Even your prefrontal cortex can be impaired, resulting in poor judgement and, over time, hallucinations."
He rests his chin on his palm. "And not eating enough?"
His continued nonchalance bothers Amy even more. "Seriously? A lot of the same things are exacerbated, not to mention the chemical effects of lack of nutrition on the rest of your body. Altered hormone levels affect every part of the brain in this instance as well."
She stops speaking and looks at the wistful, contented look on his face. "What the hell, Sheldon?"
He brushes his fingertips across the back of her hand, deftly avoiding her IV line and setting all of her nerve endings on alert. "I've been waiting to hear you lecture me about that ever since you left. I hope you have some diagrams, charts, and schematics at home with which to better illustrate your points."
She stares at him with her mouth open until he reaches up and closes it for her. He never ceases to confound her sometimes. She's not sure what shocks her the most, his gentle touch of her hand in a public hospital or his audacious, untimely request for a Powerpoint presentation. It is equal parts sweet and insane, reminding her of how much she has missed him.
With an affectionate tone, Sheldon continues, "Once we get home and you're feeling better, perhaps you can email me the appropriate citations. While you're at it, you could also stand to elaborate on the specific alterations to hormone levels and the affects of such on each area of the brain."
Her mouth is falling open once again, but there's no time for another 'What the hell?' before an X-ray technician knocks on the door and comes in to wheel her away.
—-