A/N: I disappeared! I'm sorry! But life has gotten a little less crazy and I don't foresee another abrupt disappearance again. Thank you so much for your reviews! :'] That's a tear of joy. Enjoy!

I humbly dedicate this chapter to my friend Stephanie. :]

She had never seen anything like it before.

Standing at the top of the slanted clearing in the middle of the forest, Amy saw a crowd of people sitting on fallen tree barks with their backs to her. They were all gravely silent, slightly leaning forward in an act of rapt attention. Right in front of the crowd, the forest floor slightly descended. A makeshift stage that was low to the ground and made of wood was in the epicenter of the clearing, causing the entire set up to look like an amphitheater. The sides of the stage were framed by trees that acted as pillars to hold up a vaulted roof covered in vines and leaves and the trees were brilliantly illuminated by white, twinkling LED lights that reminded Amy of Christmas. Her brows furrowed while her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit atmosphere. Above the tall canopies of the trees, the sun was completely hidden by the clouds and the forest was so dark Amy could have sworn it was night. She narrowed her eyes as she studied the stage where a woman was in the middle of reciting a monologue. There was one lone spotlight that shone down on her from the top of the stage. Amy could hear her words clearly but could not see her face, only the blonde wavy locks that sat on her shoulders as she looked down at her feet. She wore a scarlet colored dress that wrapped snugly around her slim body. Her hands were hidden behind her back as she spoke clearly, her voice wavering as if on the verge of tears.

"'There is nothing better than this,' he said, and I worried he was right. I worried that once something had entered you, it would never leave—he would plant himself inside me and grow and grow until I was nothing but him."

Amy found herself walking closer to the crowd, still unnoticed by anyone since they were all facing the stage. She took a seat in the very back on a damp log and rested her spiral notebook on her lap, immediately pressing on the eraser end of her mechanical pencil to make the lead appear and poised her hand over the paper. Not a breath, nor a chirp of wildlife could be heard as the woman on stage lifted her face infinitesimally, enough for the crowd to get a view of her breathtaking emerald eyes shining with tears in the spotlight as she concluded her monologue.

"…His touch had always been too powerful a thing. His touch was something I assumed I'd find in other men, but never did." *

Realization hit Amy like a crashing wave as she recognized the woman that bowed slightly at the waist while the crowd applauded as Penelope, the young lady she had met in town yesterday afternoon. When she stood straight, Amy could see the dramatic shadowy dust of her eye makeup and the gloss of her pink lips as she drank in the feedback from her audience, lapping it up like a kitten with her saucer of milk, before walking gracefully down the steps of the stage. Penelope was clearly a performer. Soon, the air turned social as all of the people, a group of about twenty Amy quickly estimated, in the crowd turned towards another and began to chat idly. The voices sounded like a dull roar in her ears as she surveyed the odd sight before her. Had she stumbled upon some sort of secret acting company? Were these auditions for some sort of play? Her thoughts were distracted by the abrupt, yet unmistakable feeling of eyes on her.

She craned her neck around the crowd, some of whom began to stand up, but could not see anyone who had yet noticed her attendance. The audience was filled with men and women of all types of ages, races, and sizes. The only point of conformity was that they were all dressed for a special occasion; the women all donned solid colored dresses and dripped with lavish jewelry, and the men were all sporting slacks and dress shirts with ties. The sight of the crowd's fancy evening attire in the middle of a forest both fascinated and frightened Amy at the same time. She remained seated, severely underdressed in her hiking boots, skinny jeans, and thermal shirt, feeling slightly uneasy at the nagging sensation that she was still being watched, and a little shaky as a result from her near breakdown in the forest seconds before she came across this sight. She directed her attention back to the stage as a man and a woman commanded the crowd's consideration with a dialogue from Romeo and Juliet. Amy propped her elbow up on her knee and leaned forward, cupping her chin with her hand.

For a little while, she allowed herself to forget she was mourning her dead father, that she was craving the taste of alcohol, that she was all alone in this great big world, and silently mouthed the lines of Juliet Capulet as the tiny woman on stage recited the famous balcony scene.

Robbie Fowler was returning home from a restaurant opening one summer evening while vacationing in the Hamptons with his daughter. He had left 17 year-old Amy alone on her insistence that she was too big for a babysitter. At 1:00 AM, Robbie's private town car dropped him at the curb, and as soon as his Dolce & Gabana leather loafers hit the asphalt, he smelled something burning. But the peculiar smell was quickly forgotten, being that when he looked up, his rail thin daughter was beaming up at him from the stone steps at the entrance of the house.

"Amy?"

"Pop."

He visibly swallowed hard, as if he were trying to suppress a lump in his throat. "What…what happened to your nightgown?" Behind her, smoke was billowing out of the wide open front door, and the flames were high, consuming the foyer of the house.

"I can't remember. I think I started a fire. The bottom of my gown got caught in the flames." She held up the tattered ends of the skirt that had once reached her ankles, but now barely covered her thighs. "But don't worry, I'm fine. I only burned the skin of my palms as I patted the fire off of me." She pushed her arms up and held her hands out to Robbie, proudly displaying the flayed skin. Then she wheezed out a long, sputtering cough, winded after speaking.

Robbie already had his cellular phone in his hand and had begun to dial 9-1-1 by the time she quit talking, nodding slowly at her. "Okay, baby. I'm glad you're fine. Come stand by me while I call the fire department." He placed the phone to his ear with one hand and motioned with his other for Amy to come to him, which she did. She wobbled a little and began to cough again as she walked over to Robbie and protectively wrapped both of her arms around his waist, leaning her head on his chest as he held her tight and gave the emergency dispatch his address. She was so glad he was finally home.

And then Amy felt something wet hit her cheek, a droplet of water rolling down her face until it touched the corner of her mouth. She slipped out her tongue to taste it. Salty, like tears. She didn't feel like weeping, in fact, she felt elated. Like today was a hard one to beat. She was about to touch her eyes when she heard her dad sniffle, shortly followed by the feel of his racking sobs that made his body tremble. She looked up meekly and watched just in time for another tear to roll off of Robbie Fowler's chiseled, handsome face and land on hers.

It took two hours for Amy to finally succumb to the elements. She had regretted not bringing a jacket, figuring earlier she would only be walking around for less than an hour. She wrapped her arms around her body, fruitlessly attempting to keep the chill away, but the dampness of the log had seeped into her jeans, the atmosphere had begun to grow even darker, and eventually her teeth began to chatter. She was entranced by the line of different people who had taken turns on stage, reciting soliloquies and enacting famous plays or monologues from novels and movies. The whole atmosphere was extremely romantic, watching the performances under the twinkling lights, and Amy found herself longing for the passion and drive that each person on stage radiated. It reminded her of the days she would watch her father on screen. He transformed, just like the strangers before her. She was sad to see that the performances had begun to wind down and the crowd was beginning to disperse.

Still seated way in the back and out of sight, Amy stood up and stretched her back. She was torn between pursuing a conversation with Penelope who was still standing amongst the crowd or retreating back to the forest before night fell. On one hand, she had been fascinated by the performances and wanted to learn more about these people, but when the thought of wandering around the forest with no sunlight to guide her home overpowered her desire to stay, Amy sighed deeply and turned to slink back into the trees.

"You know every word of every Shakespearean play that was performed here tonight."

A tingle crawled down her spine slowly, like cold, tiny fingers as a dark shadow emerged from the tree line and stepped in front of her. She gasped and dropped her notebook to the wet grass. "What?" Her eyes struggled to focus on the shadow until it came closer and was finally touched by the dim light. It was a tall, lean man with icy blue eyes, neatly combed raven black hair with a side part, and smooth skin so shockingly pale he looked like a human-sized porcelain doll. He wore black slacks and a black long-sleeved dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The only contrast to his dark ensemble was his straight skinny tie that was scarlet in color. He walked towards her at a casual pace, both of his hands tucked into his pockets. Amy quickly flipped through her mental catalog to find a word that would describe the man before her: breathtaking. Astonishing or awe-inspiring in quality, so as to take one's breath away.

"I said, you know every word of every Shakespearean play. I watched you mouth every line." The man finally stopped merely three feet in front of her, his long neck angled so that he could look down at her. He was at least a head and a half taller than her, his wide shoulders and lofty stature adding to his shocking presence. Suddenly he looked down at their feet and bent at the knees to retrieve Amy's notebook. She looked down as he grabbed it then rose slowly, his eyes so blue they resembled steel, watching her the entire time.

It was a moment before Amy quit gawking and broke eye contact with the man, reaching for her notebook that he was holding out for her to take. He seemed as though he was in no hurry, perfectly capable of waiting for her to get her bearings. "Yeah, I know my Shakespeare," she said softly. She pulled the notebook from the man's hand and clutched it to her body like a school girl. He jammed his hands back into his pockets and made no move to step out of Amy's way. She had forgotten what she was doing the second before he walked out of the trees. Did he just say he was watching me? she suddenly thought, biting her lower lip. "Sorry, I was just going."

"Why?" he asked, his voice sounding genuinely disappointed. "We're having an after party. You should join."

"I'm sorry?" Amy felt like an idiot. She heard what he said, his voice was extremely clear and proper with a hint of a twang in his accent, but clear nonetheless. She was just shocked by his invite as much as she was shocked that he was still standing there speaking to her. That he had just admitted to watching her. Men like that never took the time to talk to Amy let alone show any interest in what her mouth was doing.

"I said," the man chuckled at the prospect of repeating himself again. His slight lisp caused Amy's heart to skip a beat. "We're having an after party. You should join." He waited a beat before adding, "My name is Sheldon. Sheldon Cooper." Another moment of complete silence went by as he plastered an easy-going grin on his face and held his hand out for Amy to shake. Her eyes lingered on his palm before she took it and shook gently. His hands were deliciously warm, soft and dry. Sheldon kept his hand in hers, and though Amy couldn't meet his eyes and stared dumbly at the ground, she could almost feel his gaze like a trail of heat ravishing her skin. "What's your name?"

Thoroughly embarrassed that Sheldon's tone had took on an almost patronizing quality, as though he was guiding a child through a conversation, she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. Just because she had not had significant human contact in days didn't mean she should act like a feral child stepping into civility for the first time. She mentally scolded herself to get a grip, then breathed in deeply. Exhaling, she peered at Sheldon through her glasses. "Amy Farrah Fowler. It's nice to meet you, Sheldon Cooper."

Sheldon smiled with a closed mouth, almost as though he was suppressing a laugh, but not at her expense. "That's quite a name. It's nice to meet you, too, Amy." He finally let go of her hand, and she felt the heat leave her body, almost regretting losing the feel of his skin against hers. "You seemed to have enjoyed yourself tonight. Do you like the theater?"

"I…" Amy turned and looked over her shoulder. She noticed that people had finally turned around and were now watching her exchange with Sheldon with very curious eyes. She turned back around to face him. "I've never been to the theater. But I enjoyed the performances tonight. Are these people in an acting company?"

"Sort of," Sheldon answered with a shrug. "Nothing official. It's just something we do for fun in the privacy of our stage, very clandestine. You've never been to the theater yet you're a fan of so many playwrights?" She noticed how he said 'we' but hadn't seen Sheldon take the stage all night.

"I read," Amy answered robotically, suddenly fearful of revealing any indication that she wasn't allowed in crowded theaters because of the anxiety it triggered. "A lot. I read a lot of plays."

"Then come with us," Sheldon offered again, nodding in the direction of the stage and the crowd of performers mixed in with the audience. "You'll fit right in."

This last sentence gave Amy a chill that rolled from her head to her toes. Sheldon seemed so sure of his last statement, that she would fit right in. It wasn't a guess. It was a certainty. He must have mistaken her trembling for a reaction to the sudden wind that had begun to pick up. "The party is indoors. We should go before it gets any colder."

"I appreciate the invite," she declined. "But I really need to get going. I literally stumbled upon this clearing with no idea how I got here. I'm new to Washington, you see. And if I don't head home now, I'll never find my way back."

Sheldon considered her explanation for a moment before he looked over his own shoulder and peered into the woods. The pitch black shadows between the tall trees nearly gave Amy a heart attack. She'd never find her way back in that! And Sheldon seemed to know it. He turned back to her and shook his head. "Amy, I was raised in Texas. I'm a southern gentleman, the product of my mother's raising. If word were to get back down south to old Mary Cooper that her youngest son allowed a lady to wander around in the dark without offering her hospitality before escorting her home, she'd come all the way up here to ring my neck." He had one hand in his pocket, and the other was waving between them as he spoke. She bit back a grin despite herself as he continued. "You want to be responsible for my neck being wrung?"

"No," Amy muttered beneath her breath, her cheeks reddening by the second.

"Good. Now follow me. Let's get you warm and fed, then I'll take you home myself." He then held out his hand again, but not for her to shake. Instead, he bent his arm at the elbow and offered it to her. Amy had seen enough movies to understand that she was expected to loop her arm with his, and before she could stop herself, that's just what she did. Now in such close proximity with the stranger named Sheldon, she could smell a faint hint of baby powder mixed with some sort of earthy scent. Her heartbeat sped up as Sheldon led them down the clearing in between the fallen tree bark that served as audience seats, and towards the crowd of people that had quieted significantly to watch Amy and him approach. "Guys," Sheldon greeted them warmly. "This is Amy Farrah Fowler." He looked down at her for dramatic effect. "She'll be joining us for our post-performance festivities."

Amy studied the feet of the crowd before looking up shyly and displayed a weak smile. All of the men nodded at her warmly and a few of the women waved and hollered a few "Hello, Amy!"'s. She waved back sheepishly. "Hi, everybody." She made eye contact with several people, especially those who looked close to her in age, and waited for any indication that they recognized her as Robbie Fowler's daughter. But when no recognition was found, she looked up at Sheldon who was smiling kindly at her. No longer feeling the effects of the cold due to the full-body blush she was sporting, she slowly removed her arm from his as a few people approached her.

"Howard Wolowitz," a man short in stature held out his hand for Amy to take. His other hand was held by a tiny blonde woman, and Amy recognized them immediately as the couple who performed Romeo and Juliet.

"Hi," Amy shook his hand and then took the woman's, who introduced herself as Howard' wife Bernadette. "You guys were amazing up there."

They thanked her for her compliment while others came to introduce themselves. Soon, Amy had acquainted herself with well over half of the guests, mostly performers, and complimented them all on their acts, as well as made small talk and she found herself becoming slightly dizzy. She had not interacted with so many people as such in years. And strangely, she felt no hint of anxiety that would hamper her ability to mingle. Finally, a dark man from India who introduced himself to Amy as Rajesh and earlier in the evening had performed a monologue from an old black and white movie she recognized, A Bucket of Blood, hollered for everyone to follow him to the party.

"You coming, Amy?" Bernadette asked in a sweet, high-pitched voice that Amy found oddly endearing. She and Howard held back as they waited for Amy to walk with them towards the forest.

"Yeah," she replied and started towards them, but stopped suddenly, feeling as though she was forgetting something. She turned in a circle and didn't realize what she was looking for until her eyes landed on him. She saw Sheldon standing at the staircase near the stage, talking animatedly with a blonde woman in a scarlet dress. His eyebrows were raised in what looked like exasperation and condescension as he looked down at the woman whose back was to Amy. Her arms were flailing and Amy could tell even without hearing their conversation that they were clearly engaged in a fight. She was about to turn around and join Howard and Bernadette but froze when Sheldon's eyes flitted to hers, their gazes making contact from yards away. Immediately, his expression softened and he nodded at her, giving her a silent go on. When he nodded, the blonde woman whirled around and her emerald eyes blazed almost hatefully as she locked eyes with Amy. The woman, she realized quickly, was Penelope. And she did not look pleased. Amy looked down and away, then pivoted to face Bernadette. "Alright, let's go."

Amy, Howard and Bernadette treaded carefully over thick tree roots and high, lush grass in virtual darkness. The only light was the yellow smears of lanterns in the distance held by the rest of the crowd ahead of them. Amy's arms flailed out every few seconds to grab onto her hiking partners, which was humiliating. She kept murmuring apologies every time she grabbed Bernadette to steady herself.

"It's okay, Amy," Bernadette laughed, her mousy voice chiming. "We walk this path all the time. Don't worry, we're almost there."

"Where exactly are we going?" Amy inquired, her eyes squinting in the darkness. She hoped wherever the destination, there would be plenty of wine.

"The Coliseum," Howard answered with a sly grin. He squeezed Bernadette's hand as they exchanged a meaningful look.

Amy was about to ask him to clarify when they finally broke out of the trees and approached a narrow babbling brook. She watched the couple detach hands and walk in single file line across large stones. Amy followed close behind, crossing the water and hiking up a small hill before they finally emerged from the woods and into civilization. She could see the crowd ahead of them advance on the lawn of a large manor painted entirely white. It had four massive columns that spanned the height of the three floors of the mansion which looked like a plantation owner's home right out of the 19th century portrait. Amy gasped and Howard turned around to face her. "Come on!" he urged, waving her forward. Taking a few hesitant steps towards him, she marveled openly at the sight. Torches were lit and hoisted at the front center of the house, creating a brilliant light that spilled onto the grass and reached the tree line. Amy's eyes roamed upwards until it reached the tip of the roof before meeting the night sky. It was unexpectedly clear, the moon was full, and the atmosphere up above was a black blanket with purple swirls and dotted with twinkling stars.

"What is this?" Amy asked in amazement.

"Welcome to my home," a voice behind her whispered. She jumped and let out a tiny yelp before looking over her shoulder, coming face to face with Sheldon, who had somehow managed to catch up quickly despite having been left behind in the woods with Penelope. He grinned down at her with his signature smile. "Shall we?"

Amy nodded dumbly, and finally managed to get her legs to work as the four of them crossed the lawn and made their way to the house. Howard pulled his bride closer to him and wrapped an arm around her. They walked up the porch steps and disappeared into the open doors of the house.

Amy risked a glance at Sheldon, who looked right back at her before gesturing with his arms for her to walk up the steps ahead of him. She nodded gratefully and swallowed hard, taking point as they entered the house. She suddenly thought of Penelope and wondered where she was. Before she could open her mouth to her ask, Sheldon had placed his large hand on the small of her back and guided her into a large ballroom with a hanging chandelier, oriental rugs, and a large fireplace already burning with a roaring fire. The ballroom was filled with the crowd from the woods who were manning the bar and scavenging the spread of food on the east wall of the room. "Would you like something to drink?" Sheldon asked her. Amy nodded and let the question about Penelope's whereabouts die on her tongue.

"Come now, Amy. What did you really think of Raj's monologue?" a woman with spiral curls wrapped in a loose bun and a yellow gown eyed Amy as she sipped from her glass of champagne.

"I thought it was very moving," Amy answered honestly, giving Rajesh, or Raj as he insisted she call him, a smile. "Walter Paisley has been depicted by Dick Miller in several films since the 1950's, in different character situations of course, but not so vulnerable and simple as in A Bucket of Blood. And Raj portrayed him brilliantly tonight."

"It was fucking creepy, is what I think you mean," Howard muttered as a few people laughed.

"Hey!" Raj whined in a mock tone, pretending to be hurt.

"Yes," Amy said once the laughter of the crowd died down. "Extremely creepy. But there's something sort of intriguing about how far a human can go to be accepted by their peers, am I right?" The majority of the crowd nodded, and Amy suddenly reddened. She was surprised by her loquaciousness. Usually crowds frightened her, aggravated her mood. Maybe it was the wine that kept being offered to her all night, but she found herself extremely relaxed around these people.

"Being that I'm from India and am new to the U.S., I could relate completely to Walter," Raj explained as everyone listened. "Although I don't see myself encasing my murder victims in clay and plaster to impress my peers, I can understand his overwhelming need to fit in." The crowd laughed and Amy joined in.

"See?" Howard shook his head. "Creepy."

Amy had lost track of time. Her eyes had begun to droop and burned mildly, though, and she realized it was probably well after midnight. She thought of Shakespeare at home all alone, and realized she hadn't made her promised check-in call to Valencia back in New York. Sighing, Amy looked around the crowd and scanned it for Sheldon. She lowered her mouth Bernadette's ear, who had stood by her most of the night, and asked her if she knew where their host was.

"There, on the front porch, with Penelope." Bernadette pointed straight ahead. Above the plush couch a few feet in front of them was a large window, the drapes pushed open and provided an amazing view of the lake beside Sheldon's home. And sure enough, out on the front porch, Sheldon stood, leaning against a pillar as Penelope waved her arms madly and mouthed angrily at him. Amy had wondered why, after getting Amy her first glass of wine, Sheldon had virtually disappeared for the rest of the night. This was probably why. Though, after discussing plays and film with the other guests, she hardly had the chance to miss him.

"I'm going to ask him to take me home, now," Amy said, setting down her glass of wine. "It was great to meet you all. Thank you for having me."

"Amy, you must come back soon," Raj pleaded, placing a hand on her shoulder. The crowd behind him murmured in agreement.

"I'll try," Amy promised. She was having a good night tonight. There was no telling which way the pendulum of her mood would swing tomorrow. "Goodnight." She was caught by surprise as Bernadette wrapped her in a quick hug. Blushing, Amy waved at the performers before escaping into the foyer of the mansion and stood by the front door for a moment. Would it be intrusive to just barge onto the porch and demand Sheldon take her home? Her curiosity getting the best of her, she quietly turned the knob and pulled the door open a fraction. She couldn't make out the words due to the racket still being made by the other house guests in the ballroom. Eavesdropping wasn't exactly an admirable trait, so Amy bit the bullet and yanked the door all the way open. When she closed it behind her, she looked left and then right, then found the pair talking in harsh whispers. Amy waited a beat before clearing her throat, which earned a startled glance from Sheldon and a murderous glare from Penelope. "Sheldon? Would it be alright for you to take me home now?"

It was a few seconds before Sheldon finally nodded at her. "It would be my pleasure, Amy." He walked past Penelope, who grabbed his arm roughly.

"This isn't over," the blonde warned him.

"Kindly release your hold on me, Penny," Sheldon said tiredly, but not even Amy could miss the ringing of warning in his order. "And help yourself to the food and drinks inside." Without waiting for her to heed his request, he yanked his arm from the blonde's grasp, then turned to face Amy again. "Shall we, Amy?"

Penelope's plump lips dropped into an 'O' of surprise before she stomped around Sheldon, passing Amy without so much as a nod in her direction. She disappeared inside and slammed the door forcefully behind her. The mystery of if Penelope recognized Amy from the CVS would not be answered tonight, she realized, then returned her attention to Sheldon who looked completely unaffected by the display. "Was this a bad time?"

"Of course not. I promised I would take you home." He took a few steps towards her before stopping, lowering his eyes to her chest. "What's that?" he asked, pointing at her.

Amy looked down in confusion, wondering why he was being so bold as to point at her breasts, but realized that she was still clutching her notebook. "Oh," she sheepishly. "It's just a stupid notebook."

"Why is it stupid?" Sheldon's eyes bore down on hers with genuine curiosity. It was quite unnerving.

"I like to write, but this one is blank."

"Ah, a writer," Sheldon said thoughtfully. "Are you published?"

"No," she answered with a laugh, shaking her head and lowering her eyes. "I just write silly stuff. Scripts, mostly. Nothing that I ever let anyone read." Anyone but my father.

"Interesting," Sheldon mused. "Are you any good, Amy?"

"No," Amy repeated. She avoided Sheldon's eyes as she looked through the open window into the ballroom and saw the crowd had begun to simmer down. Some women were gathered in a corner, talking conspiratorially with one another like a gossipy high school clique, and some men had gathered around a table playing cards. Howard and Bernadette were engaged in an animated conversation with Rajesh beside the fire. Other people had not so conspicuously disappeared into other rooms upstairs for some private time. Penelope was nowhere to be seen.

"How do you know if you're any good if you don't let anyone read your work?"

"I…" Amy was unsure how to answer. "I'm just not."

"You're a puzzle, Amy," Sheldon remarked.

"I'm not really that interesting."

"I disagree."

"Why is that?" she challenged, boldly meeting Sheldon's cobalt eyes.

"I have a ballroom full of people who would disagree. Don't question me." His stern twang startled Amy, and she watched in fascination as his eyes twinkled in amusement. "You ready to go?"

Amy swallowed hard and then nodded. "Yes. I had fun meeting everyone. Thanks for a great night."

"Oh, the night's not over yet, Amy Farrah Fowler." He took her hand and pulled slightly, walking down the porch steps and practically dragged her with him.

"What?" she asked, slightly alarmed. She allowed herself to be pulled by Sheldon around the side of his massive home, trudging through the damp grass, and saw a tall stable come into view. He walked towards the building at a steady pace, his skin shining in the moonlight. A wind blew past, causing his combed bangs to ruffle and fall over his brow.

"I'm glad you had fun with my friends. You were a hit. I watched you flutter around like a butterfly all night. But if it's alright with you, I'd like to get to you know myself now." They stopped at the entrance of the stables and Amy was acutely aware that he still was holding her hand. "You ever ride?"

"Excuse me?" Amy was caught off-guard by his question, but it quickly made sense when she heard the excited neighing of horses inside the stable. "No, no I don't ride horses."

"I do," Sheldon said simply. "Come on. I'll teach you. It'll be fun."

"You don't understand," her voice was scratchy, worried. "I'm from New York."

Sheldon laughed and shook his head. "Good to know."

"I really need to get home," Amy argued, staring at the closed stable door with wary eyes. Another neigh sounded from inside, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"I know." Sheldon nodded and placed his hands on his hips. "This is a lot faster than walking." His lips parted slightly as he looked down at Amy, studying her uneasy expression. "Trust me."

"Trust you?" Amy breathed. "I don't even know you." She shut her mouth quickly, embarrassed by her brash tone.

"There's no time like the present to get to know each other, though. Wouldn't you agree?" His eyes remained wide, feigning innocence, but challenging her all the same. Amy had a feeling that she should allow herself to get to know Sheldon, unwilling to accept what the alternative may be. He drew her in like a magnet, and she could not remember the last time, if ever, she had been interested in getting to know anyone. At the same time, the people she met tonight were remarkable. Relatable. She sincerely wanted to return, never having been around so many people that she could talk to about shared interests. How could she if she didn't allow herself to know Sheldon, the man who seemed to be the ringleader of it all?

Which made tonight all the more insane. Who was this man? Why had he taken to her so quickly? Questions she knew wouldn't be answered if she didn't follow him into that stable. She looked down at his hand that was extended to her for what seemed like the tenth time that night. But when she put her hand in his this time, it felt different. It felt binding. She imagined a silk ribbon twirling itself around their clamped hands before disappearing. An invisible tether. She blinked forcefully before looking up and meeting his eyes.

"Okay," she finally relented, then allowed Sheldon to pull her into the darkness of the stable until she could no longer see the moon.

"Pop," Amy whined like a child, writhing in her sheets. She struggled against the soft cuffs that binded her to the rails of the hospital bed. "Pop, help me!"

Robbie Fowler bit back tears as he watched his daughter cry and beg for his help. "I can't, munchkin," he said, then stopped himself. His daughter was almost 18 years-old now. Part of her problem was that he had ignored the fact that she was not a child anymore for years, ignored the signs that pointed out she was unwell, signs that echoed the destructive behavior of Farrah Holt. It was time for Amy to grow up. It was time for the both of them to grow up. "Amy, you're sick."

"No!" Amy bellowed, her glasses flying off of her face as she tossed her head back and forth. One of the nurses was bravely holding Amy down by the shoulders, wearing Styrofoam taped to her forearms to ward off any bite attacks. "I'll never do it again, Pop, I swear!"

"Amy, do you even know what you did?" The vacant look in Amy's eyes broke Robbie's heart. The doctors had diagnosed her with severe bipolar affective disorder, bordering on manic-depressive schizophrenia. When she set fire to objects and to her home, chances were Amy didn't know she was doing it. She would face a life full of rehabilitation and therapy, but would never fully recover unless she remained medicated. "Amy, you could have killed yourself or someone else. You need help. I will be here with you, every step of the way, baby, I swear."

"Let me die," Amy whimpered, her throat hoarse from screaming. "I'm alone. I'll always be alone."

* Penelope's monologue was composed of direct quotes from the amazing novel "The Adults" by Alison Espach.