Even after that night, even though they began spending several nights together a week, Rosalind still insisted that Raj spend plenty of time with his friends. She always had something to do – sorting through her mother's things, going through legal documents for her mother's charities, attending business meetings with her uncles, working on her research, grading student essays – and she said she always trusted him to come back to her.

Late one night, the men were driving through downtown Pasadena on the way home from a monster movie marathon. Sheldon was in the middle of lecturing them on the proper translation of the Gamera song, when Howard interrupted him, "Hey, Raj, isn't that your girlfriend?"

The men looked across the street at the woman in a sundress and loose cardigan; Raj pounded on the back of the driver's seat. "Leonard, turn around!"

Leonard glanced around, then pulled a U-turn in the middle of the deserted street. Raj pounded on Sheldon's seat. "Sheldon, roll down your window. Call to her!"

Sheldon sighed, then leaned out and called, banging on the car door, "Rosalind! Rosalind! Rosalind!"

She turned – it was indeed Rosalind - and greeted them with only mild surprise. "Hi!" She leaned down to look in the window. "Hey, Raj. How are you guys? How were the movies?"

Raj was sputtering. "What are you doing?"

Rosalind looked down at her feet and deadpanned, "Walking?"

Raj was cross. "Walking where? Do you know what time it is?"

Rosalind was still oddly casual. "Just walking. I'm a regular Clarisse McClellan. Oh, and…" she looked at her watch, "it's 2:30, give or take. Isn't it past your bedtime?"

Leonard was worried about an argument, so he interrupted, "Rosalind, would you like a ride home?"

She shook her head. "I'm good. Goodnight, guys." She stood up and patted the roof of the car, as one would when dismissing a taxi, before stepping back to the curb.

Howard leaned toward Raj. "Man, you've got to go."

For an answer, he got a door slammed in his face. Raj was already on the curb with Rosalind. Leonard shook his head and pulled away.

Raj was upset. "I can't believe you're walking up and down the streets at night. It's not safe."

She smiled at his concern. "Don't worry. It's all strictly amateur."

He was not amused. She added, "Really, Raj, dear, it's perfectly safe. Walk with me."

Her arm in his, Rosalind steered Raj down the street, then turned off the main road into a residential neighborhood that was mostly apartments and old houses that had been converted to apartments. "When I was in high school, I used to sneak out at night and wander up and down the streets. Sometimes I'd go over a few blocks and rouse a friend, or some cousins, but they always got in trouble, so I usually just wandered on my own. I know every street between the Huntington and the 110."

Raj began to object, but she stopped him, patting his arm. "Don't be so worried for my long-ago teenage self. Pasadena is perfectly safe. So is Bryn Mawr. Philadelphia and Rio? You just have to know where to go. I'm careful; when I was in Mexico City, I hardly walked out at night at all. Such a shame. Such beautiful streets."

He repeated his reproachful look. "I have trouble sleeping." she replied, by way of explanation, before adding on, "And I can take care of myself."

"But I want to take care of you," Raj said. She indicated a turn, and he followed her.

"I appreciate that, I really do. But there's nothing to worry about. I walk, and I think. I look at the houses and the plants and the stars, and I think. After an hour or so, I go home, and I can sleep."

They walked in silence for a few minutes; Raj noticed that the apartments were giving way to small houses. Suddenly, something occurred to him. "But you've never done this before. You've spent the night at my place – I've been at yours – and you never got up and left in the middle of the night."

Rosalind sighed. "Yeah, I know. Lately, that's what I think about most nights. Why can I sleep when I'm with you? Is it the sex? Is it your comforting presence? Is it some combination of the two, or some other factor entirely?"

Raj didn't know how to respond to that, so he prompted her again. "What else do you think about when you're out walking at night?"

She smiled. "I think about you. I think about books. I think about the past. I think about the plants and the seasons. I think about the stars."

This was something Raj could respond to. He didn't know books as well as she did, and he was only beginning to grasp her relationship to her past and her place. He wanted to keep her talking, so he asked, "What do you think about the stars?"

Rosalind smiled. "Actually, when I think of the stars, I usually think of ancient peoples. Imagine, you're barely subsisting, thinking only about how not to die – about food and shelter and maybe sex – and you look up at all those lights. They can't do anything for you; you can't eat stars. But do people ignore them? No, not at all. Instead, people construct constellations and tell stories about them, and the stories are all stories about loss – about the man who falls from the sky, or the woman who is taken up to the sky – and because they are stories about loss, that makes them stories about connection, too. So the stars always make me think about how people need stories and the connections they make just as much as people need food and shelter." She paused for breath, and Raj looked at her, surprised and impressed. "But that's just my pitiful little humanities brain," she added hastily.

"No, that's – that's beautiful, really. I never thought of it that way, and I spend a lot of time thinking about stars." Raj looked up at the few stars that shone through the urban haze. They stopped on a street corner; they were deeper in the neighborhood now, and the houses and lawns were larger and more elegant. Raj returned his gaze from the heavens and found himself looking down into Rosalind's upturned face. He kissed her; what else could he do? "I'm still worried about you," he said, but he was past his first anger.

She took his hand and pulled him along the sidewalk. "I'm not used to people being worried about me. I'm not trying to be difficult, here, but I'm used to being on my own."

Raj hurried to keep up with her. "Me, too, you know? I'm doing my best, here, and I need you to let me in."

Rosalind slowed down a little, but didn't meet his eye. They walked together for another few minutes; he recognized her street, and when they reached her house, he was first through the gate. When they reached the door, he leaned against it. "Rosalind, talk to me."

She pulled out her keys and looked him in the eye. "OK, Raj. Stay."

"Stay? What do you mean, stay?" Raj wasn't sure what Rosalind was saying.

"Come in. Stay. You stay, I can sleep, I won't go walking, you won't have to worry. Stay."

"When you say 'Stay,' do you mean tonight, or do you mean, 'Move in'?"

Rosalind's smile was thin and a little nervous. "Can we just say, 'Stay'? Just… stay awhile?"

She put the housekeys in his hand, and Raj turned to open the door. He held it open for Rosalind, and rested a protective hand upon her shoulder as she passed him.