A/N: Your reviews … oh my, goodness. I've already thanked some of you personally but to those I haven't, just know that your feedback is truly astounding. I'm so glad you like this story! Just…thank you!

I'm so sorry about the delay. Every time I picked up my laptop to write, I swear something else would happen. I have so much homework this semester and major changes happening at work. Real life can suck sometimes. Can you all please call my boss and tell him to get off my back? I have a fic to write!

It was Halloween night.

Amy was 15 years-old and too old to trick-or-treat, but even if she were a few years younger, she didn't like costumes. Or candy. Her father was having a dinner party downstairs with a small group of people as she roamed the top floor hallway of the mansion by herself. She leaned over the rail of the spiral staircase and looked to the ground floor where she could hear the clinking of glass and sounds light jazz music wafting upwards towards the darkened third floor. Sighing, she pushed off the railing and continued her journey down the hallway. She came to a stop outside of the private theater built in the east wing of the house.

Stepping inside, she let her fingers run along the cold tin canisters of 8MM films on the built-in shelves. Amy loved her father's library of movies almost as much as she loved a library of books. She picked the can she was looking for and brought it over to the film projector room built over the small theater that sat 20 people.

Robbie was never one to deny her anything, but he didn't want her watching movies alone in fear that she would break the projection machine. Being that Amy spent most of her time alone, she figured out how to efficiently handle the projection anyhow. After attaching the film to the spool, she walked down the wooden staircase that led to the theater. She settled into the velvet red couch right in front of the screen and wrapped her knobby knees in an embrace against her chest as the film began and illuminated the room.

She often passed the time watching black and white movies rather than doing anything else. It was the only thing that pacified her, kept her from idling for too long, kept the bad thoughts away.

"Darling, I make you only one promise," the handsome, oval-faced Robert Montgomery crooned, his round, expressive eyes wandering over his lover.

"What?" Amy echoed the enigmatic Joan Crawford.

"I'll never call you 'darling' unless I really mean it." *

She pushed the glasses up on bridge of her nose and marveled at the faint crackling noise that was signature in the background of every black and white film. What a novelty colorless moving pictures were. Nothing looked so appealing as it did in black and white.

Amy realized if anyone bothered to capture her listless life with a lens, it would be black and white, too.

Maybe with splashes of red.

"Now, tell me. What else would you like to know?"

The excited chattering of the crowd faded and soon the only noises were the crunch of their shoes on leaves and twigs and the pitter patter of rain drops falling on the trees above them as Amy and Sheldon trudged through the woods. She quickly noticed that they were so far into the forest now that the thick foliage above them blocked the cold sprinkles of raindrops from touching their skin. Still, the air had a biting chill as it blew through her hair.

A question surfaced and bubbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "How far can we go into these woods before you get lost?"

Sheldon released a breath of air through his lips in amusement. Pfft. "Is that your first question, Amy?"

"Yes. How far are we going?"

Sheldon's eyebrow rose mischievously. "How far do you want to go?"

Amy swallowed hard, struggling to disregard the double entendre. "I certainly don't want to venture so far that no one can ever find us should we get in trouble," she mumbled. She tightened her grip on the bouquet of flowers still in her fist as he led her further into the trees. No one was ahead of them anymore and the last of the lanterns that had been lit to illuminate the performers' paths were long gone.

Sheldon chucked. "Don't worry. I will let no harm befall you, Amy Farrah Fowler." He paused for a moment and looked down at her. She could see the round outline of his face, his skin so pale against the dark. "My turn to ask a question. Are you spoken for, Amy?"

Though she was initially ill at ease by the darkness around them, Amy was suddenly grateful for the veil of night that covered her sudden blush. She swallowed hard and shook her head even though he couldn't see her. "No, absolutely not."

"Then why would a young woman like you move into such an enormous home like the one on River Road all by herself?"

Was it time to reveal her life to Sheldon? She bit her lower lip as the question rattled in her mind. And even more pressing, did this man really have no idea who she was? Who Robbie Fowler was? Her instincts advised her to clam up. How could a person like Sheldon, so driven by theater and performing, not know who one of the most lauded actors of the last 20 years was? But Amy found herself ignoring her instincts for once. Her instincts were what drove her towards inversion, loneliness. For what seemed like the first time, Amy allowed herself to speak freely. "My father died and left his home, the manor on River Road, to me in his will."

"I am sorry for your loss," Sheldon whispered, not skipping a beat.

She shrugged, hoping that she would come off as aloof so that he didn't press her any further on the matter. She couldn't talk about her father, not yet. "I don't plan on staying here," she surprised herself by adding, and was even more surprised by Sheldon's violent reaction.

"What do you mean?" His pitch hiked and he held her in place as they stood in the middle of a dark path between the trees. "You're leaving? You've only just arrived!"

"Sheldon," Amy found herself consoling her companion, patting his arm gently albeit awkwardly. "I don't plan on leaving tomorrow. I just mean I came out here for a little distance, maybe some clarity from the mess my life had become." Again, she shocked herself into silence at how revealing she had become to this stranger.

"I refuse to let you go," he declared, linking their arms together again as they continued up the path. "What a terrible thing to say. You don't plan on staying here."

"Okay, sir," she said quickly, her voice taking a serious tone as his concern became a little too much for her to understand. "My turn to ask a question. Why are you so fascinated by me?" She bit her lip again. How pathetic and conceited she sounded! She tried to reword her question. "I'm sorry, I don't mean fascinated. I mean why are you so interested in me?" She cursed under her breath. "No, that's not what I mean either-"

"Amy," Sheldon laughed. "You were right the first time. I am fascinated by you."

Her heart whirred in her chest. "What? Why?"

"You're a fan of Shakespeare, are you not?"

"To a fault," Amy chuckled.

"And the sonnet I recited tonight?" She couldn't be sure since it was still so dark, but she could have sworn she saw him duck his head. Was the smooth-talking Sheldon Cooper suddenly shy?

"Yes, Sonnet 151," Amy recalled. How many times had she read those verses before, dreaming, desiring, how it would feel to harbor such intimate feelings for another. Wondering if it would ever be possible? She felt herself inwardly blush as well. "Why did you pick that piece to perform, anyhow?" Her pulse raced as she waited for him to answer.

"If you'll forgive me for being frank, Amy, I feel it best describes the sudden onslaught of feelings that have overcome me since I first laid eyes on you." Just then they stepped into a partial clearing, and the small break in the trees above them shone very dull light from the cloud-filled sky over his face as he peered down at her with an intense gaze. "Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove; for, thou betraying me, I do betray..."

She finished the rest of the verse in her head. My nobler part to my gross body's treason. Sheldon was revealing to Amy that his attraction to her was very much so out of his hands. It was biological. No, physical. She was confused, elated, and embarrassed, all at once. Flashbacks of the solidity of Sheldon's body behind her as they stood in the barn last night flooded her senses all at once, making her dizzy.

It was then that Amy realized that Sheldon was not alone in feeling the way he did, and it shook her to the core.

"I don't know what to say, Sheldon." She forced herself to look up and concentrated on the blue hue of his eyes. A tumble of warmth suddenly spread through her extremities as something akin to the longing she once used to feel while she watched old films in her home theater during her youth jolted her.

"Say you don't mind, Amy," he said, his voice low and gruff. They had stopped walking and were now facing each other. She had become aware of Sheldon's hands, one placed casually at the curve of her waist, and the other smoothing a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. She had never been touched this way before. "I can be honest with you, can't I? Or have I crossed a line?"

"I don't mind," she whispered, closing her eyes as his smooth fingertips trailed down her cheek and fell to his side. "No, no lines have been crossed." Yet, she added mentally. Her eyes fluttered open behind her glasses and she watched Sheldon's lips curl into an easy smirk. He's got me right where he wants me.

"Did that answer your question, Amy?" he finally broke the silence and pulled her along as they continued walking. Before she could answer, the pair finally came upon the tree line. Sheldon's home loomed before them, a massive castle crawling with loyal subjects running up the porch steps to get out of the rain that had begun to fall harder. Over the roar of the fall, Amy could hear the delighted squeals and cat calls of the crowd of performers as they scrambled inside.

"Ready to run?" Sheldon asked.

"Sure, hold on." Amy released her arm from his and placed her flowers on the ground before removing her jacket. She held it over her head to shield herself from the rain then bent to pick up her flowers again.

"What are you doing?" His voice was drowned out by the sudden crack of thunder in the distance. A second later, lightening flashed brilliantly above them, illuminating his face like a firecracker in the sky.

"Covering myself so my hair and makeup don't get messed up," she answered simply. She watched as Sheldon reached for her jacket and yanked it out of her grasp.

He stepped closer to her, lowering his mouth to her cheek. She held her breath as his low voice filled her ear, making her shudder. "Run in the rain with me." Then he straightened his frame, tucked her jacket beneath his arm, and reached for her hand. He broke out into a sprint and it took a few seconds before Amy's feet caught up with his speed. He held her tight as she lurched behind him.

She frowned deeply, knowing that the care she took to look nice tonight was for naught and now being ruined by the sky's shower. But then Sheldon looked back at her just as another roll of thunder dominated the atmosphere followed by a streak of lightening, and she swelled at the euphoric grin on his face. She felt her frown disappear and her lips curled in reciprocation.

"Woo!" she cried suddenly and let go of Sheldon's hand, running the fingers of the hand that didn't hold her flowers through her hair as the rain drenched them completely. They continued to run side by side as they gained momentum on the house.

"Woo!" Sheldon echoed and laughed. He stretched his arms out as they reached the middle of the lawn and caught Amy before she could run past him. Then he twirled her around like a dance, one hand at her waist and the other extending their arms to the heavens. Her flowers fell from her grasp, splaying out on the soil all around them as he twirled her again. She saw the colorful petals mixed in with the mud at their feet and then looked up at Sheldon as grinned down at her. No music kept their tempo except the crashing of the thunder and their stifled giggles. Amy didn't know how to dance, never had a partner in her life, so she shamefully stepped on Sheldon's shiny shoes, now covered in mud. But every time she pinched one of his toes with the flat of her foot, he would laugh harder and spin her. Now fully covered in earth from the waist down and soaking wet, she was sure that the two of them looked ridiculous, and it drove her mad with delight.

She had never felt this free, this open to possibilities. All from dancing in the rain with someone who found her just as intriguing as she found him. She should be terrified of a man who pushed her to do things outside of her comfort zone. But she only felt desire.

He stopped twirling her and brought both of her hands into his, squeezing them tightly. "This way," he instructed, leading her towards the house again. They reached the dry sanctuary of the porch and Amy shivered as the wind blew.

Sheldon handed her jacket back to her. "The rain looks good on you," he remarked, staring down at her with an almost hungry look as she wiped what she was sure was running mascara from under her eyes.

"Sure," she murmured. "I look like a wet alley cat." She held her jacket in front of her. It wouldn't do her any good now. She smirked when Sheldon laughed heartily, a wheezy laugh that made his shoulders shake. It was sort of an awkward guffaw, but she appreciated its sincerity nonetheless. "Do you have a towel or something I can use?"

"Inside," Sheldon said quietly, still studying her. She avoided his eyes as they roamed over her before stopping at her torso. She followed his gaze and blanched at how snugly her blue top clung to her curves, and how noticeable the hardened peaks of her breasts were as they pointed accusingly at Sheldon. Immediately, she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Shall I wait out here?" she finally asked.

"Don't be absurd," Sheldon said with a roll of his eyes. "Come with me. I'll get you that towel, a glass of wine, then a tour."

"A glass of wine first, please," she requested before allowing him to usher her into the foyer of The Coliseum.

After showing Amy many empty rooms and unused dining halls that the first floor of The Coliseum held, they snuck past the crowd of performers busying themselves with more drinks and food and Sheldon had led her upstairs. The wide hallway was lit by lanterns that lined the walls. She followed closely behind Sheldon as he pointed out all the closed doors on their left and right.

"More unused rooms?" she inquired, a black terrycloth towel wrapped around her shoulders and a glass full of red wine in her hands.

"Well, I wouldn't say they're unused," Sheldon said pointedly. "My guests make use of them quite often."

Amy blushed and Sheldon caught her expression before chuckling. He turned around and continued leading her down the hall. She berated herself for acting so virginal. She was nearly 30 years-old for crying out loud. Could she make it any clearer to Sheldon that he was the first man to openly show her any interest?

"This sort of reminds me of my house," she said, trying to change the subject. "It's full of closed doors and rooms I have yet to even explore."

"Why haven't you explored all of the rooms?"

"I don't know," she mumbled. "I guess I'm afraid of any surprises behind the closed doors. No one has been in that house for the better part of two decades."

"Sounds like something we can have fun with," Sheldon mused. "How about tomorrow? I'll bring Howard and Bernadette and we can help you explore the house. You seem to get along well with them."

Amy crinkled her nose. She didn't relish the thought of inviting anyone to her house that was barely habitable enough for her and Shakespeare to live in. It certainly wasn't impressive enough for someone like Sheldon.

"I do like Howard and Bernadette very much. But I don't know. What if there are like dead rats or something? Or homeless people living in the closets. It's a big house, it's entirely plausible."

Sheldon scoffed then wrapped an arm around her waist. "All the more reason we should be there when you start exploring that humungous house. I can protect you."

"From a savage homeless person living off rodents and doing drugs? I doubt it."

"That imagination of yours," he laughed before adding, "I'll bring wine?"

"Sounds like fun," she gave in. They smiled before continuing down the hall to the very last room at the end of the wing. It had double doors and one was slightly ajar. "What room is this?" Amy was still not at complete ease with Sheldon's fondness of touching her, but she would be stupid to outright reject it. She emitted a silent sigh of relief when he pulled his arm away from her waist and walked forward towards the double doors.

"It's my room," he said quietly, stopping just outside of it. He stuffed both of his hands into his pockets and his back slightly hunched as he looked from her and to his doors and back again. She could tell he was wrestling with the potential of the impropriety of inviting her into his living quarters, especially after he had been so forthcoming with her in the woods. He toed the carpet beneath him and looked as though he was struggling with what to say next.

It would have never happened if she allowed herself to mull it over. Instead, she found herself studying his uncharacteristic shyness and felt a strong surge of confidence out of the blue. She didn't think about it at all before asking, "Does the tour continue in there?" Fluidly, as if they had a mind of their own, her legs moved forward and she walked up to join him at his door and placed her hand flat on Sheldon's chest. He peered down at her with wide, eager eyes, and she felt him slightly lean into her touch.

"If you'd like," he said softly. His gaze dropped down to her lips.

"Lead the way," she insisted, her voice falling to a throaty, flirtatious tone. She wasn't sure exactly where she wanted this to go, but one quick glance at his moist, rosy lips and Amy knew she wanted more than anything to be in his room, which would undoubtedly be the most intimate spot in the entire mansion.

"S-sure," he stammered and pushed the slightly open door out of the way so that she could step in first. She had seen enough movies to know that she was having an effect on Sheldon. And although she still couldn't be sure as to what he saw in her to make him react this way, she was enjoying it. She felt like a young Joan Crawford; saucy, playful.

When she walked into his room, she marveled at the warmth of the atmosphere. She saw a large fireplace with an almost extinguished flame burning a pile of logs. She turned away immediately, willing herself not to focus on the tiny embers. Sheldon noticed her flinch and gave her a concerned look.

"Would you like me to put more logs on the fire?" he offered.

"No," she answered quickly. "It feels warm enough." She gave him a weak smile and walked towards the four-poster bed in the center of the room. It was made of sturdy mahogany and was as vast as it was long. The scarlet colored blankets were neatly made and just the sight of the plush covers made it extremely inviting. She was about to compliment his taste when on the left pillow near the headboard, something caught her attention. "Is that…" she began to ask as she walked over to the side of the bed and gazed down at the object. "Is that my notebook?"

"It is," Sheldon confirmed. He had been silently watching her take in the environment, his hands clasped behind his back. "I found it in the stable where you dropped it, and was holding it for you."

"Thank you," Amy said, turning around to smile at him. She suddenly remembered the satchel she had slung across her body the entire night that held her new leather-bound journal. "There's nothing in it, you could have just thrown it away."

"No, I couldn't have," he said softly before walking towards the headboard on the opposite side of Amy. "If you hadn't shown up today, it would have given me an excuse to go see you."

Amy grinned as she picked up the notebook and flipped through the blank pages. "You didn't need a prop to come see me. I would have enjoyed your company under any pretense."

"Good to know." He smiled right back at her, a crooked grin that showed his top teeth and made her heart skip a beat. "So, would you like to have a seat?" He waved his arm towards the leather arm chairs in front of the fireplace, but his eyes inadvertently lowered to his bed.

To answer his question, she lowered herself to the mattress. First, she placed her wine glass on the nightstand beside her, slipped off her satchel and set it on the floor, then she removed her boots quickly and swung her knees around until she was fully on the bed. Her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her ears, she stretched her legs out and pushed herself to the top of the bed, leaning back against the headboard. Sheldon watched her every move, and she could have sworn that for the first time since she met him, a pink shade of blush stained the tip of his ears and cheekbones. She smiled at him innocently and patted the mattress next to her. Then she put her hands in her lap and waited patiently as he mimicked her movements, first removing his shoes and then climbed on the bed himself. The king-sized bed provided them enough comfortable space that they were at least four feet away from each other, both of their backs to the head board and legs straight out in front of them, but just the intimacy of being in bed together, even without touching, was palpable.

Amy craned her neck and shyly met Sheldon's twinkling eyes with her own. He was studying her with a newfound curiosity, tinged with slight apprehension as though he was afraid of her, yet intrigued by her all at once. The way they faced each other, so close yet so far away, Amy couldn't help but feel like maybe, in some other lifetime, they had been here before.

"So who was next?" he asked after a few moments of silence. The room was dimly lit, the only lights from the dying fire across the room and the tiny lamps on either side of his bed.

"I'm sorry?"

"Whose turn is it to ask a question?"

"Oh, I don't remember," she admitted.

"Then you go," he suggested and then smiled encouragingly.

Amy hated to admit it, but even though the night so far had been nothing short of thrilling, one thought in the back of her mind kept threatening to surface. She thought back to the nearly an hour ago at the end of the performances when she was confronted by Penelope. She couldn't keep the frown off of her face as she realized that more than anything, she needed to know what was going on with Sheldon and that woman, especially if whatever this was, what was going on between Amy and him, was going to continue.

She reluctantly tore her gaze away from him and turned to the nightstand to pick up her wine. Bringing it back to the bed with her, she took a long sip before holding it in both hands between her legs.

"Amy?" Sheldon picked up on her trepidation. "You can ask me anything."

She kept her eyes low and studied the liquid in her glass. The warmth of the wine traveling down her throat and into her blood stream gave her a push of confidence. She opened her lips to ask her question and looked up to meet Sheldon's eyes but what she saw instead was something over his shoulder that rendered her silent.

"Amy?" Sheldon asked again, peering at her with concern. "What is it?"

Amy felt her eyes widen, the air in the room stinging her eye balls and causing them to water. But for the life of her, she couldn't blink. She couldn't close her eyes, she couldn't make a sound. Her hands trembled as there, just a foot behind Sheldon, stood Penelope herself. She wore a terrible grin, and her skin, her dress, her hair…were engulfed in flames.

"Amy," she mouthed as fire licked her lips, charring her once-perfect skin. "It doesn't last."

"Amy!"

A cold splash of liquid coupled with the sharp throb of pain in the pocket of skin between her thumb and index finger finally caused Amy to tear her gaze away from the sight of a burning Penelope and down to her own hands. She felt the mattress shift as Sheldon flew towards her and cradled her hand in his. Blood trickled down her wrist and onto Sheldon's arms as he held her hand up high. She realized that she had been holding her wine glass so tight that it busted and the glass cut her deeply. She whipped her neck up again to face Penelope but she was gone. Then her eyes flitted to the fireplace where the fire had finally died out as if it had never been lit.

"Lord! What happened?" Sheldon cried, still cradling Amy's bleeding palm in his hands. He pulled the towel off of the floor that had been around her shoulders and wrapped it deftly around her wound, holding it tight.

"She…" Amy began, her eyes frantically searching for any trace of the burning woman who stood so close to Sheldon that he should have caught fire, too. Before she could finish her sentence, she forced her eyes to focus on Sheldon's worried face just inches away from hers. He was imploring her with his eyes, no doubt questioning her sanity. In that split second, Amy's heart plummeted into her stomach. Sheldon didn't know that indeed, he should be questioning her sanity. For Amy had very little of it.

Burning Penelope wasn't really standing behind him, watching them, warning her. It was all a figment of her imagination. But what was real was the searing pain now shooting through her hand and the spilled wine and broken glass on her lap. She quickly gathered herself and lucidity returned to her face. "I'm so sorry!"

"What happened?" Sheldon asked again, carefully moving around Amy so that he was still holding her hand tightly and climbing off the bed at the same time.

"Christ, I'm so clumsy," she laughed, a shrill laugh that she tried to keep the panic out of. "I was startled by a shadow behind you, I thought I saw something, it scared me. I must have grasped the wine glass too tightly. I'm so sorry, Sheldon." By the time she was done rambling, Sheldon had pulled her out of bed and led her into the adjoined bathroom. He twisted the faucet on and removed the towel from Amy's hand.

"What did you think you saw?" Sheldon demanded, his voice still high and taut with stress and he ran her palm under the cold water. She hissed at the new sensation of pain shooting up her arm, but refused to say anything that would deem her unfit to be in public, even though she knew deep down that this was true. Her heart was suddenly too heavy for her chest, and she swallowed hard, stifling back tears.

"Oh, I don't know, I get startled easily," she forced herself to speak, keeping her voice light. "I'm really sorry, Sheldon. I'm so embarrassed. I'll have your sheets laundered."

"Amy, I don't care about the sheets." Sheldon tore his gaze away from her bleeding hand and met her eyes evenly. "You didn't look startled, you looked terrified. Are you sure you're okay? You kind of left me for a moment in there."

She needed to go home. She needed her medication.

"No, Sheldon, I'm fine, please. Maybe I should just go home, I've already ruined your evening." She lowered her head and her hair fell over her face, creating a curtain between her blush and Sheldon's eyes. She inhaled deeply when she felt his wet fingers touch her cheek before pushing her hair out of her face.

"You didn't ruin anything, Amy Farrah Fowler." He looked at her with raw intensity, willing her to listen to his every word. "If you say you're alright, I believe you. But please, don't go."

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized that now Sheldon's lips were merely inches away from hers. His sweet breath washed over her face and she closed her eyes. How could she tell him what she saw without losing him? Well, she couldn't tell him what she saw, she realized. It wasn't real.

It wasn't lost on Amy that feelings she had never harbored before were surfacing for this man. But how could he understand what really went on in her head?

She foolishly thought that the fresh air and green forests would cure Amy of what ailed her. Her sickness wouldn't go away just because she relocated and found new friends.

This was the life Amy was doomed to live. Medicated. Dull. Listless, black and white. With the occasional splash of red.

She opened her eyes to see Sheldon watching her carefully. His lips were slightly parted, his chest rising and falling as he waited with bated breath for what she would say next. She had the overwhelming urge to touch him. She would risk another vision of a burning woman to feel his skin on her fingertips. Very slowly, with her free hand, she raised her arm and touched the side of his face. She felt his jaw, lined with a barely-there stubble of beard and heard him inhale sharply at her touch. His lids fluttered closed before opening again, and she saw his pupils dilate before her very eyes.

In that moment, she would not be able to leave him even if she tried.

"Okay, Sheldon," she heard herself. "I'll stay. Just for a little while longer."

He offered her a relieved smile before he let go of her hand and instructed her to sit down on the closed toilet seat while he retrieved the first aid kit from a linen closet down the hall. He left her alone and a few seconds into the silence, Amy closed her eyes again.

"It doesn't last," she repeated Penelope's words. "Nothing ever does."

*The film that Amy was watching, a fun flick starring one of the most handsome men of the black and white era Robert Montgomery and the classic Joan Crawford, is called No More Ladies, 1935.

A/N pt 2: More soon! I won't leave you hanging for long again, I promise!