A/N: You guys are amazing. Thank you so much for your kind reviews. I love how well you're receiving a darker, twistier Amy. I will keep trying to update as frequently as I can, being that the fall semester is coming up next week. I have some big plans for this fic, so stay tuned!
A few warnings before I continue: The small Washington town that I moved Amy to is just a figment of my imagination. But, obviously, I have incorporated the very real topic of mental illness. While I'm not a doctor, I will use some medical terminology. I am, after all, just a mere writer, but have had some experience in my life with knowing a little bit about depression and its very real consequences. So please don't observe my story as insensitive or uninformed. It's just fiction!
One last side note: You should totally listen to "Transatlanticism" by Death Cab for Cutie when you read this chapter. Perhaps you will be as moved as I was when I wrote the Sheldon and Amy scenes. ;] Enjoy!
"Close your eyes," Sheldon whispered after he closed the stable doors behind them, shutting out the moonlight.
"I can't see anything, it's too dark in here. I don't understand why I have to close my eyes." Amy was a bad sport, and she knew it. Her tone was flat and skeptical, calculating. She had always been that way, never easy to excite, very self-sufficient. Even as a child, it took her father many tries to rouse joy or a sense of adventure out of Amy. Unless, of course, she was misbehaving or having an episode.
But her company seemed undeterred. He led her into what she could only guess was the center of the giant stable, only to detach his hand from hers and move away. "Just do it, please," he requested calmly, but now from behind her. She looked over her shoulder, squinting desperately, but still saw nothing but blackness.
"Okay," she relented, finally letting her eyelids rest. "They're closed." Seconds later, Amy could hear the unmistakable noise of a match head scraping across a surface, then the whisper of a flame coming to life. She lifted her chin in the direction of the noise and felt her heart thump a little faster. Sheldon couldn't possibly know it, but the first few milliseconds of the birth of fire were like the opening chords of a symphony to Amy. Her limbs stiffened and she bit her tongue.
"What's the scariest thing you've ever done?"
The question momentarily threw her. "What?"
Sheldon was walking closer to her, and even with her eyes closed she could feel it. Now she was afraid to open them. She heard scuffling to her right and the breathy grunt of a large beast. Then Sheldon spoke again. "What's the scariest thing you've ever allowed yourself to do?"
"I…" Amy could feel her neck constricting, her eyes seemingly nailed shut. She felt a blast of air on her face and she gasped. "I once allowed myself to be dragged into a dark horse stable with a strange man."
From the sound of his throaty chuckle, she anticipated Sheldon was now standing right before her. "Give me your hand." She complied and she felt his nimble fingers intertwine with hers for a few moments. "I like your nails. Trimmed and neat, no polish." He then let his fingers slide down her palm until they closed around her slender wrist and brought up her hand, letting it rest flatly on a warm fur. She tried to resist, but Sheldon's hold was firm and sure. "Shhh," he whispered.
Amy didn't have it in her to reply as another blast of hot air hit her cheeks, coupled with the sound of rustling.
"Open your eyes."
She silently willed the crashing of her heart to cease as it protested against her ribs, took a deep breath, and then let her eyes flutter open. First she noticed the dim light of the lanterns that had been lit around the edges of the inside of the stable, flooding the barn with a warm, orange glow. Then she let her eyes focus and found herself face-to-face with the narrow nose of the largest black horse she had ever seen in her life. Being that the only horses Amy had ever seen were on television or in movies, and had never been up so close to a horse before, she could only assume that this beast was indeed abnormally large. She whimpered and took a step back, but was met with the resistance of Sheldon's tall frame behind her. He still had his hand wrapped around her wrist, his arm spanning the length of hers while her back rested against his chest. She watched in awe as the muscles in his forearm flexed. "Is this the scariest thing you've ever done?" he inquired, his lips dangerously close to her ear.
It was overwhelming, the view of her own hands rubbing the edge of the horse's face, up and down, while it stared down at her with one eye, accusing, sizing her up. But it stayed still, allowing her to get acquainted. For this she was grateful. The next feeling that overwhelmed her was the warmness of the solid body of a man behind her. A man she had never met until hours before, a man that was forcefully, yet kindly, pushing her boundaries. He was presumptuous, standing so close to her that she could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her shoulder blades, but she found that she was not offended.
But to describe the sudden warm tremor that echoed in her lower abdomen and her shortness of breath, she would need a moment to find the words. It was unlike anything she had felt before, electrifying yet stifling. She had the sudden urge to hook her finger on the collar of her thermal shirt and bring it away from her neck. Suddenly Sheldon's grip loosened, and finally fell away. Now she was petting the horse on her own. Amy's mouth, which had been set in a firm line, began to relax, and she felt the muscles in her chin twitch until a smile broke out across her face. She watched Sheldon from the corner of her eye as he studied her reaction. "This is unbelievable," she finally breathed, her fingers running through the length of the horse's mane. The tension left her body and the horse seemed to know it, as it playfully nudged its nose into her shaking hands.
"It sure is," Sheldon murmured, his eyes focused solely on the side of Amy's face. She felt a tingle travel down her temple until it reached her neck, then finally broke her concentration on the horse to meet Sheldon's gaze.
"What?" she asked shyly, unsure of how to react under the strange man's scrutiny. Biologically, she was reacting to his presence in a way she was almost ashamed of.
"Nothing," he replied, smiling with closed lips. He brought his hand up and rested it on the flank of the horse. "Come feel around, run your hand on her spine. She's strong, built for agility and speed." His blue eyes sparkled in the dim light as he spoke of his animal. Amy mimicked his movements, running her hands along the body of the horse, marveling at her proximity. Amy's head barely reached the shoulders, the beast was so massive.
"She's magnificent," she finally admitted.
"Thank you." Sheldon had moved to the back of the stable to reopen the doors, then returned seconds later with horse's saddle and reins. He strapped everything on and held out a hand to Amy. "You're up first."
Well, I've come this far, Amy reasoned. She didn't recognize herself as she took Sheldon's hand and allowed herself to be hoisted up onto the seat. Robbie Fowler's daughter loved animals, and would never wish harm on a horse, but it was also the one creature she would never willingly go near. They tortured her with their size and noises, their ability to quite literally trample out her life. But the expectant look in Sheldon's eyes left no chance for her to deny him anything, and this terrified her. She suddenly had the answer to his earlier question.
When she was upright on the horse, Sheldon followed, hoisting himself up until he was straddling the seat with Amy right in front of him, her rear snuggling back into his open legs. A sweat threatened to break out on her skin as the blush crawled over every square inch of her face and neck. "You ready?" he asked cheerfully, taking the reins and encouraged her to hold onto the pommel.
"No," she croaked, but fastened her grip on the hilt between her legs, and leaned back into Sheldon's chest.
"Good." She could hear the smile in his voice. "Let's go." He made a clicking noise with his mouth and the horse moved forward, clumping her great hooves into the dirt as they left the stable and emerged into the night air. A light mist had begun to fall, the once clear sky now covered with thick, rolling clouds. A sliver of moon peeked out, bright enough to reflect of the horse's shiny coat. Amy watched the ground blur beneath them as Sheldon snapped the reins to make the creature run faster.
"Oh!" Amy gasped, watching Sheldon's mansion fly by them as they rode with haste towards the woods. Just before they entered the forest, the horse was steered left, and they trotted quickly along the tree line in the direction towards the lake. She felt her hair whip around and lash at her face, accompanied by the cold spritz of drizzle, and felt a rumbling in her chest. She opened her mouth and hollered to release the reverberation that built in her throat, exhilarated by the speed and the simulated feeling of flight. Sheldon leaned closer to her, encouraged by her cries of pleasure, and they soared until she felt weightless.
Amy shivered involuntarily, the cold wind swirling around them as they picked up speed bit at her skin, and almost pouted as Sheldon slowed the horse down.
"Sorry," he breathed. "It's been awhile since I've rode like that. I forgot you didn't have a jacket. Why don't you have a jacket, by the way?"
Amy reddened even though he couldn't see her face. She looked to the side and watched the lake sparkle in isolated spots on the water beneath the moon that was still playing hide and seek behind the clouds. "I hadn't planned on being outside for long. I was just going to explore the woods right on the line of my property but got turned around or something and lost my way."
"I'm glad you stumbled upon us," Sheldon said, his voice serious.
"Me, too," Amy agreed. "Or I'd still be out there, wandering around, or worse, being digested by a mountain lion right now." She allowed the real possibility that she could have been in danger after walking into the woods on her own run through her mind, when she suddenly realized that both of her hands were still tightly wrapped around the hilt. "Shit!" she suddenly cursed.
"What?"
"Oh, my notebook. I must have left it in the stable. Shit." Amy bit her lower lip. After the night she was having, she surely had some material to write about. She would have to make another trip into town tomorrow for more paper.
"You can always come back tomorrow to watch the performances and I'll have it waiting for you there," Sheldon offered casually, his voice clear now that they had slowed to a modest trot. He left the offer sit in the air for a while as Amy mulled it over.
"You really want me to go back?" She couldn't help herself. The question was purely indulgent, a heat-seeking missile pursuing a personal invite from the man who escorted her home.
"Of course," he nearly cried out, snapping the reins to keep the horse on a straight track. "There's so much more I want to know about you, Amy Farrah Fowler. More, in fact, that one night is not sufficient enough time to discover."
"Really?" she asked. "I told you, I'm not all that interesting." She paused and then added, "What do you want to know about me?"
"Well, for starters-where do you live?"
Amy busted out laughing, a very husky, throaty laugh that she had not heard in so long. It startled her. "Yeah, I guess that would be helpful." She sighed and craned her neck to look at the lake. "I live at the top of River Road. This is the lake that is right in front of my house, so we shouldn't be too far now."
"I know exactly where that is," Sheldon assured her, snapping the reins again. A few minutes of comfortable silence passed by, save for the occasional whinnies coming from the horse. And sure enough, the steeple-like roof of Amy's home broke in the center of the trees and came into view. "There, isn't it?" her escort asked.
"Yeah," Amy answered, almost sorry to see the night end. They rode up the hill and stopped right on her front lawn. She was about to ask Sheldon how the easiest way to dismount was until she felt him shift away from her and slide off the saddle. When his feet hit the ground, he turned and gazed up at her, raising his hand once again for her to take. The clouds had finally dispersed and the moon shone brightly down on the two of them. The light reflected in Sheldon's wide eyes as he looked at her expectantly.
"M'lady?" he offered with a smirk, and she took his hand as he helped her to the ground. He steadied her as she came back down to the earth, tightly gripping the sides of her waist.
"Sheldon?"
"Hmm?"
She looked up at him and he met her eyes, in no hurry to remove his hands from her sides. "Who are you?"
"That's a peculiar question to ask," he answered after a moment, the smirk reappearing on his face. "I told you, my name is Sheldon Cooper."
"No," Amy said, almost regretting the direction this conversation was taking. "Who are you? Why do you and your friends perform in the woods? And most importantly, why are you interested in getting to know me?"
Sheldon released Amy from his hold and took a respectful step back. She watched him join his hands at the base of his spine, his stance slightly hunched forward as he regarded her question. "I'd like to answer your last inquiry first, if that's alright." He looked over her shoulder and peered at her house with a curious eye. "You move into this enormous house all on your own. You walk blindly around the woods with nothing but a pencil and some paper as your only defense. You sit quietly in the back and watch my friends perform, silently mouthing along with the words. And you are careful not to let any personal details about yourself slip." Sheldon lowered his chin a fraction, gazing at Amy like he was chastising a child. "I'd say you're pretty mysterious. Can you blame me for being interested?"
"I guess not," Amy yielded after a moment.
"And as far as my friends and our nightly recitals," he began again, straightening his back. "We are all functioning members of society. We have jobs and lives and some of the others even have families. But at night, after bearing the weight of the mundane lives we lead, we come to the woods and perform. It sets us free." His tone became wistful and he stared straight at Amy. "I don't know much about you, Amy, but would it be audacious of me to assume that you can relate to the overwhelming need to 'let off some steam' every once in awhile, so to speak?"
Amy's heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She tried to rearrange her expression so that he couldn't see how frighteningly accurate his assumption about her was. "No," she finally said. "It would actually seem as though you're spot on with your observation."
"I thought so," Sheldon whispered, stepping closer to Amy. Her heart rate accelerated. "Won't you come see us tomorrow? Perhaps if you were to see more performances, you would be able to understand why we engage in this cathartic act that you find so strange."
"I loved watching the performances," she protested. "I just found it odd that it was in the middle of the woods. You all quite literally appeared out of thin air."
"Ah," Sheldon exhaled. "I'm fairly sure we can say the same about you." And with that, Sheldon reached for her hand and brought it up to his lips. Her knuckles grazed the cleft in his chin as he kissed it, sweetly, slowly.
"Oh, my," she breathed out. She collected herself quickly as Sheldon let her hand fall. Southern gentleman, my ass, she thought with an internal smirk. The man obviously knew what he was doing.
"Goodnight, Amy." In a swift movement, Sheldon was on his horse and steering her around to leave. He paused then looked over his shoulder. "Wait for me tomorrow evening right before sunset here on your porch. Don't go wandering into the woods looking for us. I wouldn't want to have to mount a lion head in my study to avenge your death."
"Alright," Amy giggled despite herself. "And tomorrow, I get some more answers, don't I?"
"If you ask the right questions." He winked, and then rode off in the direction of the woods.
Amy watched until he disappeared down the trail alongside the trees. She shivered again, noticing how damp her clothes were. She needed a hot bath and perhaps a glass of wine to calm down her nerves and get some sleep. Retrieving the lone house key in her front pocket and unlocking the door, she attempted to take a step inside when a dark brown mass came hurtling towards her, yelping in surprise and relief. She laughed as her beloved Labrador lifted on his two hind legs to reach Amy's face and attack her with happy kisses.
"I missed you, too!" she cried over his whines. He stopped suddenly and removed his paws from her shoulders before taking the porch steps two at a time to relieve himself on the grass. "Poor Shakes," she cooed, giving her dog some privacy as she settled onto the porch swing and watched the trees rustle in the wind.
An hour later, after replying to her lawyer Valencia's frantic texts, assuring her that she was home and safe, Amy lied in bed with Shakespeare, rubbing the soft fur between his ears. She had used the same hand earlier to rub Sheldon's horse for the first time, and then the same hand had been taken to his lips for him to kiss. She felt an involuntary quiver roll over her body, once again surprising herself with the very chemical reactions she was having to Sheldon.
From elementary school all the way until her senior year of high school, Amy had crushes like any normal adolescent girl into her teens. There was always that unattainable, yet very present boy that she pictured herself holding hands with, but nothing had ever solidified, no relationships or dates or even many friends that she could hang out with. Along with Amy's sullen nature due to her condition, she had been a very awkward teen. A 'nerd' by most standards. Her nose always in a book, her very enthusiastic approach to the sciences and literature. Her high grades were only curbed in later years when she had succumbed to her depression and began starting fires. It had been a proud moment in her life to receive her acceptance letter to Yale, and yet the saddest moment too, knowing that she would never be the normal girl who could go off to college and make friends and maybe even meet her future husband on campus.
No, Amy was sick. And the only thing that kept her level, that kept her head above water, the only thing that kept Amy from taking her life on many occasions, was her medication.
She abruptly sat up in bed, her back ramrod straight. Her reaction was so quick that her dog yelped in surprise, jumping up and pointing his nose in the direction of her bedroom door, expecting an intruder. She fled from her sheets, running to the bathroom down the hall where all of her medication was. Amy flipped on the fluorescent light and her bare feet tingled at the touch of the cold tile as she walked towards the vanity mirror door above the sink. She opened it and saw all the prescription bottles staring back at her.
She had missed her scheduled dosages that day.
Fear threatened to cripple her; she had not missed a dose in nearly ten years. How could she have been around all those people in the woods, how could she have spoken to a strange man like Sheldon, how could she have ridden a goddamn horse for crying out loud, without having an episode? This medication, though slightly catatonic state-inducing, was the only anchor Amy had to reality. Yet she had functioned for nearly eight hours after missing her scheduled doses without it.
She stood there for a long time, holding the bottles of pills in her hands as she stared at herself in the mirror while unanswerable questions fired off in every corner of her mind like tiny sparks in the dead of night. Then she carefully put all of the bottles back, never opening them, then turned off the bathroom light and walked back to her bedroom.
Morning light flooded her bedroom and bathed her in its glow. Amy shifted beneath her sheets, kicking them off as a light film of sweat covered her skin. The sun was shining so bright that it was heating up her room. She cursed herself for not having brought curtains to put up in her bedroom when she packed in haste to leave New York. She stretched and felt Shakespeare move beside her, his tail thumping expectantly against the mattress. She flailed her arm out, searching for his warm body. She felt something wet in the sheets instead. Groaning, she opened one eye to search for her dog. "Shakespeare! Did you go in the bed?" She forced herself to sit up then reluctantly brought her fingers to her nose, sniffing. The pungent scent of gasoline invaded her nostrils. "What the fuck?" she whispered, grasping at her sheets and pulling them off of her. The sharp smell only got stronger as she threw her sheets off the bed, the stench wafting in the air. She looked around frantically for Shakespeare but he was no longer in the room with her.
Her eyes suddenly hurt from the brightness of the sun pouring in through her drape-less windows. She shielded her vision with one arm and shakily walked to the south wall of her room where the horizontal gape of double-paned glass showed her a view the forest. She peered outside through squinted eyes, the brightness of the sun causing her retinas to ache in screaming protest.
"No…" Her mouth fell open as she saw that it wasn't the brightness of the sun, but a roaring fire in the trees at the foot of her property, the flames so high and intense that they licked the sky like orange and yellow tongues.
When Amy finally woke up from her fitful sleep filled with upsetting dreams, her room was dark and the air was stale and cold. She hesitated before opening her eyes, truly hoping she was actually awake and not about to be bombarded by more troubling visions. She heard Shakespeare snoring to her left and when she peered over at him, he was there. She sighed and reached over him to grab her cell phone off of the nightstand and saw that it was already 11:00 AM. The windows in her room were dripping on the outside with the day's rain, creating patterns on her skin with the reflection. She lied in bed for a bit longer, relishing the warm cocoon beneath the blankets and the even breathing of her canine companion. Then she remembered her nightmares.
It had been a conscience decision on her part not to take her medication last night before bed. A part of Amy was slightly proud of herself for being on her best behavior with Sheldon and his friends. But the other part of her knew that just before she had stumbled upon their makeshift theater, she had been on the cusp of a breakdown. True, at that moment she had just realized she was lost in the middle of the woods, which warranted a bit of a freak out. It's not like she had wanted to hurt herself or set something ablaze.
Her dreams came to her again and she shuddered, deciding to get out of bed and go take her medication. But when she reached the bathroom sink, she let her hand hover over the vanity door. The only person she truly stayed medicated for was her father. But now he was gone, and Amy had fled across the country to escape the memories of his death and her old life behind. Perhaps it was on account of the fresh, forest air of this town, but Amy had entertained the thought that maybe she could learn to live off of her meds. Maybe Robbie Fowler left this property to Amy in his will because he knew that an escape like this was all Amy needed to be completely cured.
But if he thought that this was what you needed, why didn't he bring you here when he was alive? she inwardly challenged herself.
Amy liked to think that somewhere deep down in the recesses of her twisted mind, that the intelligent, loving girl she used to be was still there. The young girl who would write plays for her dad to act out, the little Amy who dared to dream of a life beyond her own that was subdued by her prescription pills.
She stared into the mirror, assessing her sharp chin and narrow, yet sweetly curved lips. Her green eyes, the eyes of Robbie Fowler, and the thick lashes of Farrah Holt. Amy still had the young, fresh face of a girl with a brave new world ahead of her. She was saddened by the comatose, passive shell of a woman she had become. Realizing her decision, she took a step away from the medicine cabinet and whirled around to start the shower. She had to make a run into town to grab a few things before Sheldon came to get her tonight, and her agenda for the day did not include taking her medication.
She had narrowed it down to two different outfits. One was a cream-colored blazer over dark denim skinny jeans and a royal blue silk top. This would be paired with a pair of knee-high boots and was decided to be the outfit she would don if Sheldon showed up on his horse tonight, which she wasn't looking forward to. The other outfit was a coral colored silk top with a ruffled chest to go with a navy blue pencil skirt with a high slit in the back. This would be completed by black heels, which she was truly hoping to wear, being that the heels made her calves and bottom look amazing even though they hurt like hell.
Amy had been over Sheldon's arrival many times in her head. She had never been on a date before, and could hardly count this as one itself, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't anticipating seeing Sheldon again with the vigor of a debutante about to be called on by the most handsome boy in town. She had planned on being ready when he got there, didn't want to keep him waiting, so she decided she would go with the safe choice and changed into the jeans, blazer and boots. Even if they didn't arrive to the stage in the woods by horseback, it would still be hell trekking through the forest in heels.
She walked downstairs and surveyed her empty house, most of which had still gone unexplored. The vastness of the quarters gave her an eerie feeling, and she didn't relish opening all ten bedroom doors to see what had been left inside after twenty years. She called for Shakespeare to join her and opened the front door just in time to see a small white Jaguar coupe pull into her driveway.
"Shakes!" she called fearfully as her Lab tore down the porch steps to meet the intruder at their car. She walked down the steps herself and squinted her eyes in time to see Howard and Bernadette waving at her through their windshield. "Shakespeare, heel!" When he heard the order from Amy, he sat on his haunches, watching Howard's every move as the short man opened his car door and peered down warily at the large dog.
"Hey, Amy!" Bernadette squealed happily, climbing out of the passenger side and walking around the hood of the car to come closer. "You look great!"
Amy tried to keep the disappointment from her voice as she searched the backseat of the idling car and saw that it was empty. Sheldon-less. "Hey, Bernadette. Thanks. It's probably because last time you saw me I was wearing wet, mud-covered hiking clothes."
"Hope you don't mind us showing up like this, but Sheldon sent us," Howard apologized, still looking down at Shakespeare as the dog lowered his ears and growled.
"He did?" Amy inquired, torn between disappointment and excitement; disappointed that maybe Sheldon sent them to deliver the news that tonight was cancelled, or even worse, that maybe he no longer wished to know her, but excited that maybe there was a chance he was waiting for her. "I hope he's okay…"
"Oh, peachy," Howard began, then pointed at her dog. "Does he bite?"
"His own tail." Amy rolled her eyes then clapped for Shakespeare's attention. "Inside, boy." She pointed at the house to drive her point home, and he whined before following orders, trudging across the lawn and up the porch stairs before disappearing inside.
"Sheldon was just preparing for his performance tonight," Bernadette said, her voice as high and sweet as Amy remembered it. "He asked us to deliver you in one piece, so here we are. Are you ready to go?"
Amy's heart fluttered, damn it for being so temperamental, and she tried to hide the smile on her face. Sheldon on stage tonight? Her blush was not lost on Bernadette and Howard as they exchanged a knowing look. "Yes, I'm ready. Let me just get something from inside." She bounded up her porch steps and grabbed her satchel, gave Shakespeare a kiss on the head goodbye, then locked up behind her. "Okay, good to go."
"Hop in, sister," Howard panned, pointing to the backseat. She smiled gratefully and crawled in as he pulled his front seat forward. When she was settled, he adjusted his chair and climbed in behind the steering wheel.
"You really do look great, Amy," Bernadette commented from the front seat as Howard shifted the car into reverse and then turned it around to head down the driveway.
"Not as great as you," Amy returned the compliment, truly awed by the black, knee-length gown and golden jewelry she was decked out in.
"Please," the petite blonde said with a hint of sarcasm. "I'm tired of wearing these types of get-ups into the woods. But it's for the love of the theater. And it's what Sheldon asks of all of us."
"I had a dressier outfit inside," Amy said, suddenly feeling under-dressed and frumpy. "I can run back inside and change really fast."
"Nah." Howard shook his head. "Don't worry, only performers are required to get all dolled up."
Amy relaxed slightly, happy she wouldn't have to strap on her high heels. Then she mulled over Howard's statement. "Do you guys ever have an audience?"
There was a hesitation before she answered, and Amy did not miss it, but then Bernadette peered over her shoulder playfully at her backseat passenger and winked. "We were all an audience at one point." Then she reached for Howard's free hand that wasn't on the wheel, and Amy watched them rest their joined palms on the middle console for the entirety of the drive, pondering over what Bernadette could have meant.