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CHAPTER 24

When Amy sits down to eat dinner with Sheldon, she feels embarrassed about sleeping away the vast majority of the afternoon yet again.

"It's good for you," he insists. "If it would help, I can recite your own lecture back to you about the restorative benefits of sleep. Particularly after a concussion, it's essential to rest and recuperate to speed your healing."

Amy pokes at her vegetables, trying not to be too grouchy. It doesn't work. "I feel like an infant. I eat, I sleep, I nap, and the whole thing almost makes me want to cry. It's frustrating not being able to do things for myself. I don't like being a burden to you, or to anyone."

"You're not a burden."

She tilts her head with disbelief. "Seriously? Sheldon, you had to prepare this meal for me, half carry my sorry butt out here to eat it, and then to top it all off, you just had to cut the meat on my plate."

He shrugs. "Okay, you're right. You are a burden. And you might want to add this mini tantrum to your list of childish behavior."

With the prongs of her fork, Amy viciously stabs one of the perfect little cubes of meat on her plate. It doesn't make her feel any better, but it does help forestall her from pouting about anything else, for the moment anyway.

"Amy, the best things that you can do for yourself right now are eat, sleep, and allow me to help you with whatever you need." After a quick sip of Yoo-hoo, he adds, "Oh, and throughout it all, try to avoid feeling stress."

That statement earns him an eye roll. "I don't think avoiding stress is a realistic option."

She transfers a bite of dinner to her mouth, trying to at least do something right. Washing it down with some water, she starts to feel guilty about voicing her frustrations in the face of all the selfless things he has been doing for her.

"I'm sorry that I've been taking out my poor mood on you. It's been wonderful to have your company, and you've been a tremendous help to me. I know how much you must miss your apartment, your spot, and your work. So when you get sick of being here, please don't hesitate to tell me. I promise I'll understand when you need to get back to your own life."

Sheldon looks puzzled. "But this is my own life. I'm not sick of being here, nor is there any risk of that happening. My work is in my mind, and thus it is with me wherever I am. I do miss my spot, but I've been testing various points around this place, and I expect to locate the ideal seating position soon. Perhaps this is a good time to warn you that the angles aren't quite lining up, and I may need to move some furniture to optimize the space."

His inadvertent sweetness topped with a dollop of his familiar obsessive-compulsiveness is enough to dissipate the last bits of her cranky mood. It makes her smile. "You can rearrange whatever you need to."

He returns her smile with a happy grin of his own. His simple pleasure at the idea of finding a spot here lifts Amy's spirits even more. Sheldon is here because he wants to be, and he clearly intends to remain for some time.

Even though she would like to help clean up, she shoves her need for independence aside and allows him to escort her over to the couch. The clink and rattle of dishes and cutlery fills her ears while she wonders if he has any plans to discuss their relationship tonight. After her chat with the girls over lunch, Amy is more curious than ever about what he might have to say to her.

An efficient tidier, he is sitting next to her within minutes, the faint smell of the lemony Lysol he must've used to disinfect her countertops following in his wake. "So what shall we do this evening? I brought my Star Trek DVDs, your bookshelves are lined with classic literature that is always worth a read, and I know you have Scrabble in your closet, if you're feeling feisty."

None of that is what Amy would prefer, but one is far worse than the others. "Star Trek? Sheldon I already watched that with you a few months ago."

"Au contraire, you only saw Star Trek, the original television series. There are five other tv series, not to mention twelve feature films to enjoy. Star Trek is much more than a show. It's an entire franchise."

Her voice is flat when she answers, "You don't say…"

"I do say. Isn't it spectacular? And with the 50th anniversary of its inception next year, I expect more will be forthcoming."

His face looks so bright and enthusiastic that Amy can't bring herself to tell him that it is not all that spectacular to her. However, it looks like he may very well find enough joy in it for both of them. She can envision watching it with him, if only to bear witness to his own pleasure. Besides, if they put his DVDs on over the next week or so, she'll probably snooze through most of it anyway.

Still, there is something else on her mind. "Yesterday evening, you told me that you planned to impart your relationship wisdom upon me. Something about evidence and testimony, if I recall correctly."

Sheldon bites his bottom lip and glances over towards the front door, eyeing his messenger bag that hangs on a hook next to it. Or he might be hatching an escape plan. It's hard to tell.

"I am planning to do that. Well, I was." He meets her eyes again before continuing, "I ran into a little snag during this afternoon's research."

"Research?"

"Yes. I found a considerable amount of information about concussions when I questioned Dr. Google. Along with resting and eating a healthy diet, you should be reducing physical activity and avoiding anything that might raise your heart rate or elevate your blood pressure. It could cause serious complications."

"I guess I'll have to cancel that six mile jog I had scheduled for tomorrow morning," Amy says, wiggling her injured leg to make the joke obvious.

It doesn't look like Sheldon gets the sarcasm, so she continues, "I'm aware of the need for taking it easy. As a matter of fact, I'm well educated with regard to brain matters. It's the kind of thing a girl picks up on while getting a neuroscience doctorate."

He leans in close to her and squints into her eyes. "You haven't felt any worsening symptoms since yesterday morning, have you?"

That strikes her as an odd question. "You mean since coming home from the hospital? No. Actually, being safe at home and having all of that extra sleep has helped a lot. What makes you ask that?"

Sheldon goes from looking nervous to relieved and then back to nervous again during her very short explanation. He stands and starts pacing, three steps to her door and three steps back to her couch. "I wasn't sure if yesterday morning's bath was a… stressful event for you or not."

"I don't remember," she admits. "Compared to what happened during the days before that, I'm sure it can't have been that bad. But since you brought it up, I do have something about that morning that I've been meaning to ask you."

He paces even faster, and his voice sounds reluctant when he agrees. "Okay. But Amy, I'm not sure if this is the right time for this conversation. You are supposed to relax and avoid stressful situations."

She ignores his attempt to dissuade her. "You apologized to me for enthusiastically returning a kiss that I initiated. What I want to know is why you felt sorry."

His frantic pacing comes to a halt, and he plops himself back down next to her. "Isn't it obvious? You were considerably out of sorts from the drugs they gave you. It was inappropriate for me to have escalated our physical contact in that way at that time. Having since read about the importance of avoiding activities that might raise your blood pressure or heart rate, it was even more awful of me."

Speaking of heart rate, Amy's is beating with giddy glee. The girls were correct. She reaches over and grabs his hand, squeezing it tightly, but before she allows herself to throw her arms around him to try to recreate the experience sans narcotics, there is a natural follow-up question. "Then why did you decide to do it?"

He stares at her and swallows hard. After a brief glance down to her lips, he meets her eyes again and pleads, "I'm not sure we should get into this right now. Can't we start with an easier, more mundane aspect of our relationship?"

Amy shakes her head and decides to utter the words that she knows will induce capitulation. "Not knowing these answers is causing me stress."

As expected, he acquiesces in an instant. He's looking at her lips again when he admits, "I didn't exactly decide to do it. You kissed me, and I had missed you so much. For the first time in weeks, everything felt right. So I dove in like some uncivilized heathen. I'm sorry."

Even though the girls told her to consider this very possibility, it feels like a dream come true to hear him put words to it. It really was an act of lust, a thing he wanted for himself. She only wishes that he didn't feel sorrow about giving in to an impulse that is bringing her so much happiness.

"Please don't be sorry. I understand why you feel bad about the circumstances, but you were only returning a kiss that I started and that you knew perfectly well I wanted. And Sheldon, from what I can remember and from everything that has happened since, you have been nothing but a complete gentleman."

He continues to look unsettled and flustered. "I touched your abdomen. In the bath, you moved my hand there, but I didn't pull it back right away. You were trying to encourage me to touch your…"

Sheldon pauses and runs his hand through his hair, an action that leaves it looking tousled and sexy. "I did stop you. Eventually. But I didn't want to."

She closes her eyes and counts out the first ten decimal places of pi to try to calm herself down and slow her breathing. If he catches on to how this is affecting her, he will end the conversation. She ends up counting out to twenty-five decimal places before she can open her eyes again.

"I'm sure that I didn't want to stop either," she says, proud of how steady her voice sounds. "I hope you understand that you aren't responsible for actions that I took. If anyone should apologize, it sounds like it ought to be me. You did not do anything that I am upset about, Sheldon. You are a good man."

That reassurance seems to be enough to set him at ease. His face is still flushed, but he is no longer fidgeting, and most important of all, he has stopped apologizing.

This might be a good time for her own confession. "When you told me that what happened was overwhelming and wrong, I thought that you found the experience itself distasteful, and you were sorry for that reason."

Sheldon licks his lower lip. "No, not at all. That's not what I meant by overwhelming."

His mouth looks inviting, leaving her a bit overwhelmed as they speak. "I didn't know what you were trying to tell me. The word 'overwhelming' does not have a connotation for being a good feeling, not strictly speaking."

"Maybe not, but context is key. When that context is in regards to kissing you, I can assure you that it is a good feeling."

She wishes that she could remember it properly. It is so tempting to lean closer, to kiss him and go fishing for his tongue with her own. With her heart pounding harder with every passing second, Amy feels several brief jolts of discomfort from her head. She reflexively presses her fingers to her temple and cannot stifle a wince.

Jumping to his feet, Sheldon scurries off to her kitchen. He returns in less than a minute with a glass of water and some ibuprofen. When he sits, he opts for the chair several feet away from her. "I knew we should postpone this discussion. If I put on some Star Trek, you can relax. I know how your eyes glazed over when we watched the original series. Shall I put it in?"

Amy's mind latches on to the last thing he said. She would love for him to put it in.

Fortunately, her brain reboots fast enough for her to realize that he's referring to the DVD. "I don't want to postpone this discussion."

Sheldon sighs. "I don't want to either. There are many other things that I need to tell you. I made a full PowerPoint presentation and everything. There are slides, Amy."

Of course there are. She smiles and says, "If I assure you that while I find your slideshows intellectually stimulating, they also tend to leave me in a relaxed state, would that make you feel better about continuing?"

He doesn't think about it for more than a second. "It would. My laptop is in my messenger bag. Let me just go whip it out for you."

Stifling a chuckle at both his enthusiasm and his wording, she says, "Please do. I'd like to see whatever you whip out for me."

He returns and chooses a seat on the couch with her again, but this time he places the laptop between them, a modern day bundling board, she supposes. His old computer is slow to boot, and he taps his finger in an impatient looking way next to the touchpad. Once it finally loads, he brings up his work with a few button clicks.

The first slide is a summary with three bullet points. Sheldon begins, "From the letters you sent me, it became clear that you had three main points of concern. Since all of them are completely wrong, we'll be going through each in detail so that we can highlight your most glaring mistakes."

He's only said a few words, but it's already starting to dispel any lingering desire to kiss him. Amy isn't sure what she expected from this. She was sort of hoping for a hint of sweetness sprinkled into an otherwise factual recitation of their issues, but at this point she decides it's best to quash even that meager expectation. He is Sheldon, after all. Hopefully he will at least move beyond telling her that she's been acting like a fool.

The next slide has her first issue spelled out in a bold font that looks familiar, but she can't recall the name of it. Sheldon continues, "Most of your logical errors are due to incorrect presumptions about certain basic facts. In any case, the first of your three main concerns involves your diagnosis of premature ovarian aging and a nonsensical belief that this makes you an unsuitable mate for me. We spoke of this earlier, but let me be clear: I won't be having children if they aren't yours."

After their visit to the endocrinologist this morning, there is no doubt in her mind that he damn well means this. She should not have allowed her own fears and feelings of inferiority to overwhelm her higher reasoning centers. More than that, she should not have assumed things about how Sheldon would respond to her situation.

Next to her, he continues to rant. It is a gentle, intellectual sounding rant, but a rant nonetheless. He must have the points of his slide memorized because he locks eyes with her while he speaks. "You think that there could be another woman for me someday, and that is flat out wrong. There is you, and there is me, and that is all. I will elaborate later, as the need arises. I know that I made an inappropriate comment about your eggs having a sell-by date while men can sire children for their entire lives, but you should note that I said 'men', not 'I'. It is true that men can sire children for their entire lives, but I, Sheldon Cooper, cannot. My sell-by date is your sell-by date."

His speech has left him slightly winded. She can see him take a few calming breaths before he whispers, "I don't have anything else to say about this. There is no evidence beyond my own testimony. Amy, please tell me that you understand that this one is complete and utter hogwash?"

She would like to nod vigorously, but given her head injury, that would be unwise. Instead she tries to infuse her words with all the certainty that she can muster. "Yes. I don't doubt you at all. Sheldon, no one has ever done anything for me like you did this morning at that appointment. I didn't get a chance to say it, but I can't imagine having a biological child with anyone other than you either. It was a mistake for me to think that you would feel differently."

He smiles. "Yes, that was a mistake, but I'm pleased to see that you are amenable to reason. That's the Amy Farrah Fowler that I know."

Before she can figure out if that's a compliment or an insult, he continues, "But that's only the first of your three logical failings."

Closer to an insult, she decides. It's difficult to feel bothered by it when he looks at her with concern in his eyes and reaches across his keyboard to take hold of her good hand. He turns her palm face up and places his first two fingers on her wrist. The contact feels sensual and arousing until she realizes what he is actually up to.

After ten seconds or so he says, "One-hundred beats per minute. That's a little high, Amy." He releases her wrist and stands to go fish something else out of his bag.

Once he sits down with his bounty and she sees what he has brought, she says, "You aren't really going to use that, are you?"

"Of course. How can we accurately gauge your blood pressure without a sphygmomanometer?"

Arguing about it would be a losing proposition that would only succeed in raising the eventual reading he takes. For this reason, Amy doesn't bother to object when he straps the cuff around her upper arm and goes through the process of measuring her blood pressure.

"One-twenty over seventy. That's normal, but we don't want it to get much higher. I suppose we can continue with your second ridiculous presumption for the time being. Nevertheless, we may need to take a break at some point. If you need to stop and meditate with some knitting patterns or something, let me know."

She wonders what he is so worried about. "Did you have something stressful planned?"

His eyes travel over her from head to toe and back up again. He nods.

Amy forces herself to keep her breathing steady and asks, "Good stress or bad stress?"

He sucks his lower lip into his mouth for a second, then releases it and says, "Definitely good."

His answer is enough to compel her to stop looking at him and to instead examine the blanket that is draped over the back of her couch. She contemplates the crocheting technique used and notes a few small areas that could use a repair. After a minute or so she has collected herself, and she is able to focus back on the situation at hand. Perhaps Sheldon also felt the need to examine some sewing techniques. He has snagged one of her other small blankets and draped it across his lap.

They both look back at his computer screen, and he clicks a button to bring up the next slide. His voice cracks when he begins, "Point number two…"

He clears his throat and continues, "Your second concern was with regards to the future of our relationship. You stated a belief that I did not want to live with you, and as an extension to that, you presumed that I would have no interest in marriage or children. Now, this is just as wrong as point one. In fact, the part about having children overlaps here, so I suppose I needn't go over the error of your ways on that again."

"No, you needn't. But I don't know how you can claim that I'm wrong about the rest of this. I've brought up living together on more than one occasion, even with the innocent suggestion of being roommates, and I don't think I've ever seen anything freak you out so much. The last time I mentioned it, you stowed yourself away on a train, hobo style."

"I wouldn't use the word hobo," he objects.

She doesn't say anything, and he gets back to the part that matters. "I can see why you might be confused. It's true that I left, but it wasn't entirely because of you. Everything seemed to be changing in my life all at once, and that kind of thing is difficult for me. As far as living with you as my roommate… Amy, that isn't who you are. That is not your role in my life. You can't be a roommate because you are much more than that. I just wasn't ready then for the more that you are."

That's fair enough, she supposes. She wants to be more than his roommate too. Rather than interrupt him to voice her understanding, she stays quiet to allow him to go on.

"Things are different now and have been for some time. Surely you can see how we've grown since then? I've been able to accept and tell you that I love you, and we have been closer than ever. I didn't put you on my application to go to Mars, but it wasn't because I didn't want you with me. It's not a safe journey, and those who end up going on that adventure will be unlikely to make it back."

Everything that he says rings true for her. She only wishes he had chosen to articulate some of this at the time.

He continues, "Anyway, I understand why the Mars thing and the train thing upset you, but there is something that remains baffling to me. On our anniversary, we were... communing on my couch. Being an anniversary, it seemed like a good time to talk about commitment. If that is what you want, then why did you get so mad at me for bringing it up?"

For as much as Sheldon claims to be baffled, Amy feels even more so. That isn't the way she remembers things at all.

"You didn't talk about commitment. You talked about watching a silly tv show. It was the most intimate physical contact we had ever had, and you were thinking about The Flash."

"I wasn't thinking about The Flash. Well, maybe a little bit, but beyond getting your opinion about the show, I was trying to explain to you the importance that I place on that particular moral principle. Starting a new television series is a big commitment. No matter how bad the plots get, once I've started watching, it's all over for me."

She thinks back to their date and tries to dig through the angry emotions in her memory. He did mention commitment at some point, didn't he? And if she views the situation through the unique lens of Sheldon-style logic, she can just about decipher what he was trying to say.

"I thought that you were so uninterested in what we were doing that your mind had wandered off to something unrelated," she explains.

"Well if that's the case, then you have been wrong yet again. I was very interested in what we were doing, and my mind had extrapolated that into the future."

He presses his fingers to the pulse point in her wrist again. Her mind swirls with a mixture of hope and happiness, and it combines with a contrasting deep regret about her own false assumptions. The confusion must be enough to keep her body from knowing how to react because it appears that she has passed Sheldon's heart rate check with ease.

"There is something else," he whispers, still loosely holding on to her wrist.

Biting his lip, his voice is shaky when he adds, "I had—I have a ring."

She feels her mouth drop open and her eyes widen with her growing incredulity. "What?"

"It's a family heirloom. My mother kept it in a safe deposit box in Texas on my behalf. I'd left it behind years ago, assuming that I would never have use for something like that. I asked my mother to bring it when she came to visit earlier this year. I wasn't planning to propose right away, but I knew that we were headed there. I thought that it would make sense to talk to you about commitment as a separate, theoretical issue first, without all the confusing emotions of romance to cloud things."

Shock and elation make it hard to form the words for a response. While marriage is something that she has always wanted with him, even Amy has held no expectation of it happening anytime soon, if ever. Hearing that it has been on his mind for so long is overwhelming. The good kind of overwhelming, once again.

She can't believe that all of this was going through his mind back then. She feels like an impatient fool for her impulsive actions, and the stupidity of it all makes her want to bang her head against the back of the couch. Further injury to her brain is unlikely to help the situation, however, so she settles for opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water.

He looks at her with concern. "Are you okay? Do you want me to get you a knitting magazine? Or shall I put on some Star Trek?"

She swallows down the lump of emotion that clogs her throat. "No. I'm okay. I just need a minute."

Resting her head on the back of the sofa, Amy closes her eyes and tries to calm down. It isn't really possible. Even if she were to count through all the infinite digits of pi, it would not allow her to stifle these feelings. She can only think of one thing that might help.

Opening her eyes, she has to face him and try to make things right. "Sheldon, I am so sorry. You've been telling me how wrong I was about things, but I had no idea it would be quite this extensive. I can't even begin to explain to you how foolish I feel."

Magnanimous isn't a word that one would often use to describe Sheldon. But that is exactly what he is when he answers her. "It wasn't your fault. Your letters made it clear that I had been remiss. You did make a number of incorrect assumptions, but that wouldn't have happened if I had been more forthright. Always one to state the obvious, Leonard recently brought up the fact that you can't read my mind. I don't think you need to apologize. You can't have been expected to know things that I never told you. In fact, from our earlier years together, you had plenty of reason to come to the incorrect conclusions that you did."

She doesn't think she deserves it, but he smiles at her and pokes her knee. "It's true that you were incredibly foolish. It's okay. Just don't let it happen again."

Her eyes tear up while she nods, and she smiles even through the tears, which is probably a combination that will confuse Sheldon. "I can't believe that you really want that with me. You've always been devoted to your work above all else, and from what you said at Howard and Bernadette's wedding, I thought you would aspire to live a happy life by yourself forever."

"You may not have noticed, but I'm not perfect. When I said that, part of me still wanted to believe that I could stay free of all human needs and weaknesses, but I already knew it wasn't true. I didn't want to be alone, even then, and that's why I first reached for your hand a short time later."

Amy remembers that moment with fondness, the first time that he ever initiated physical contact between them. Memories of past Sheldon touches remind her of their impending discussion of point number three. That final point can only be one thing. He must be intending to talk to her about physical intimacy—about sexual desire, more specifically. The thought is arousing, but also nerve-wracking. He has claimed that she is wrong about everything, but when it comes to this, she has no idea what he will say.

Unsure of how he will even begin the discussion, she looks up at his eyes and finds him staring at her face. While she is in the midst of contemplating the matter, she is distracted by a motion from down below. He still has one of her blankets in his lap, and she can see the lump of his left hand moving rhythmically down near his belt.

Heat rushes to her cheeks. He cannot possibly be doing what it looks like he's doing.

"Do you want to see it?" he asks.

Hell yes, she wants to see it. But he can't really be doing that, can he?

She can barely hear her own hoarse whisper. "See what?"

"The evidence."

"What evidence?" she squeaks.

Looking at her intently, he answers, "The ring. It's in my pocket."

Oh. He's turning the ring over and over in his pocket. She lets her breath out in one long exhale, feeling both relief and disappointment. Of course he wasn't doing that other thing. It wouldn't have been like him at all, but her rampaging libido had delusions of grandeur.

She clears her throat. "Not yet. I hope to someday, but not until the time is right. We aren't there yet. You said you weren't prepared to ask that question on our anniversary, and I don't want you to do so until you are sure that you're ready."

"A lot has changed since our anniversary date, but perhaps there are a few things yet to work out. Regardless, you will be seeing it someday soon, so don't ever doubt it again."

"I won't."

They sit in silence for a few moments. Now that so many of her concerns have been cleared up, the lull in their conversation doesn't feel awkward at all. The emotion of the evening has been a stressor, and her body sends her pain signals to complain about it. Even so, learning the truth is more than worth the physical discomfort.

Sheldon's voice sounds loud in the quiet room. "I should take you to bed."

Well that would be one way of going over point number three, but she suspects that his intentions are far too innocent. "You didn't finish going through your slides," she points out helpfully.

He squirms and his voice sounds a bit high-pitched when he says, "I'm not sure that it's a good idea to talk about your final concern right now. This evening's discussions have no doubt put a considerable strain on your body already."

"It's been a good strain," she assures him. It's impossible not to smirk when she adds, "We both know that you don't want to leave something unfinished." Sometimes his little quirks are so useful.

His left eye twitches like she knew that it would. "Even good stress can elevate a person's heart rate and blood pressure, Amy. That isn't safe when you're recovering from a concussion."

He's right, of course, but she would rather not admit it. For the most part, her mind is filled with a calm, Zen-like peace in the wake of his revelations. After all of the self-pity and her dark, gloomy outlook, the new lightness of being feels fantastic. Unfortunately, in contrast to her newfound mental contentment, her body feels exhausted and worn out. The ibuprofen has helped some, but her head continues to ache. The ups and downs of their conversation have caused some throbbing pains as well. Despite her body's complaints, she feels certain that the stress of avoiding this conversation would have been worse.

The discomfort she's feeling must show on her face because even her sweet, clueless baboo is able to read it in her expression. "Does it hurt?"

His lower lip looks sad and pouty with his pitying question. She wants to lean over and suck that lip right into her mouth, but her head zings her a brief warning pain at the thought. Forced to resist that temptation, she gives in to the lure of gravity instead, resting her heavy, aching head against the back cushion of the sofa.

"Yes, it does. But Sheldon, I still want to know the rest. I want to know everything."

There is no audible answer from him, but he closes the lid to his laptop and sets it on her coffee table next to the blood pressure cuff. From those decisive movements, she figures that he has elected to wait on addressing point number three for the time being. It is disappointing, even though she knows that he is trying to do what's best for her.

Leaning back in his seat, he stretches his arm across the back of the sofa, covering the distance between them with ease. He delicately runs the tips of his fingers through the hair above her left temple, keeping a safe distance away from the bandaged area of her injury. The contact is soothing, and the tensed muscles of her body relax with the comforting motion. He continues to stroke his fingers along her head, taking up a gentle, rhythmic pattern to his movements. She closes her eyes to concentrate on the feeling, and after a minute or two, happy little goosebumps start to pop up on her skin.

With her eyes closed and her mind quieting down, she is caught off guard when he starts whispering. "I think you already know the final part. For the sake of completeness, I will say this much: I do want a sexual relationship with you. Your assumptions about that were as wrong as everything else. When you're feeling better, I look forward to detailing just how wrong you have been."

Lulled into a relaxed state, her eyes remain closed, but her smile is reflexive. With the ongoing, soothing caress of his fingers, she manages to control her breathing and keep her heart from leaping out of her chest. He is right. Part of her has already suspected his answer, and every bit of her has hoped for it.

She has not, however, expected him to be so forthright with the final part of his assurance. His whispered voice is so quiet that she almost wonders if she is imagining it when he says, "And when you are healed, I will demonstrate."

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