A/N: Sorry this is kind of short but I simply could not sleep without getting this out. Love the reviews, thank you all so much! Enjoy ;]

Amy wondered what Robbie Fowler would think of the situation she found herself in now.

She sat timidly on the closed lid of the toilet, her back straight and legs closed together while Sheldon brought a wooden stool and placed it in front of her as he tended to her. His legs were wide open to get closer to her body. Amy's knees grazed his inner thighs and she pursed her lips together as Sheldon took a pair of tweezers to her swollen skin, searching for pieces of stray glass. His head was down and his eyebrows were high as he looked down at her hand intently, gently turning it over between his fingers. One of his hands had a latex glove on.

They were silent for awhile as her pulse finally slowed to a normal pace and the last of the terror from her hallucination faded. The only noise that could be heard was their even breathing, the tink of the tweezers as they pulled small slivers of glass out of her skin, and the occasional roar of the crowd below them who were still drinking and conversing. Amy took the opportunity to study the restroom. It was very bare, white walls and pearl and black tile. The walk-in shower was situated in the corner behind Sheldon. It was a very clean lavatory; she could smell disinfectant. A lone white towel hung on a silver rack beside the ceramic sink.

"I don't see that you'll need stiches. The cuts are very shallow, but you're still bleeding a bit. I can wrap this up for you."

"Please," Amy agreed. He looked up and met her eyes then they smiled at one another. He reached down into the white first aid box and gathered gauze and ointment. While he worked, Amy occasionally looked over his shoulder, searching for any remnants of her chilling vision. She felt as though she were watching a horror movie; she was just waiting for the monster to pop out of the closet. She blinked a few times, expecting to see the burning woman every time she opened her eyes, and the image in her head gave her a chill. She involuntarily shuddered, which Sheldon mistook for pain.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, leaning his face closer towards her hand. "Just a few more minutes." As he came closer, Amy inhaled his powdery scent, mixed with a subtle yet effective spritz of cologne. She traced the array of freckles just below his tapered hair line behind his ears with her eyes. She imagined herself nuzzling her face into the curve of his neck then closed her eyes shut, suppressing the urge. "So," he spoke again, causing Amy's eyes to fly open. "Are you going to tell me what you really saw?"

"I…" Amy bit her lower lip and avoided his eyes. She craved his touch on her skin, even if he was just tending to her wound. And she needed him this close to her so that every breath she took filled her with a hint of Sheldon's fragrance. So she avoided his inquiry in fear that if she revealed the thoughts racing through her mind, he would order her away. "I believe it was my turn to ask the question."

He smirked, a close-lipped, teasing smirk that immediately made it difficult for Amy to remember her own name. "Very well. Proceed."

She blurted it out before fear caused her to subdue it. "What is your deal with Penelope?" She hadn't meant to come across so blunt, but it was the question she was going to ask anyway before her hallucination. Her teeth clenched as she weighed his reaction. She had to know.

He didn't even flinch as he finished applying the ointment on Amy's hands with the pads of his latex-gloved fingers. "My deal?"

"Yeah, well, I mean. Are you two a couple…or something?" Even as the words left her mouth, she knew how ridiculous she sounded. She was making the assumption that a man involved with another woman was reciting Shakespeare and sitting in bed with someone else. Could she be any more insulting?

As if he could hear her thoughts and agreed with them, Sheldon pursed his lips and his eyebrows lowered. His eyes found hers and he gave her a derisive glare.

"I know!" she started, shaking her head. "Stupid question. I just thought that maybe you two were involved. Every time I see you together, you two look extremely tense. And she's…"

"She's…?" he waited for her to continue.

"She's exquisite," Amy mumbled.

As she finished speaking, Sheldon securely wrapped her hand and wrist with the gauze, leaving her fingers free as the damage was only in the U-shape between her thumb and pointer. The numbing agent in the ointment had now dulled the stinging to merely a tingly itch. He was silent as he put his tools away into the first aid box and yanked his latex glove off, discarding it in the trashcan by their legs. Finally, he rose from his sitting position and walked over to the sink before washing his hands fervently. As he turned off the faucet and toweled his hands, Amy was afraid to look at his face, fearful that she would see anger or irritation on account of her presumption.

He walked back to stand directly over her. "You and I have very different opinions of what 'exquisite' is," he finally spoke, and Amy was certain she could hear the irritation in his voice.

Immediately, she began to wonder if Howard and Bernadette weren't too drunk to drive her home. She had a feeling she would need a ride very soon. She could feel Sheldon glaring down at the crown of her head, but she figured she would keep the little dignity she had left this evening and not meet his eyes.

"If you're saying Penelope isn't beautiful, then you must be blind," she affirmed.

"I did not say that."

"Well, then, we both have the same definition of beauty."

"I said we were at odds of the definition of 'exquisite'," he clarified.

With her head still down, Amy watched as one of Sheldon's hands made their way to her chin and lifted her face to look up at him. She was suddenly very aware of his proximity and how compromising their position would look to anyone who might walk in on them. She was at direct eye-level with his slim waist while she sat on the toilet, looking up at him expectantly, and he had his hand on her face as he stood over her. She swallowed hard and tried to concentrate on getting the conversation back on track.

"You still haven't answered my question," she accused, catching her breath. Her heart sped up when Sheldon removed his fingers from her chin and crossed his arms over his chest. He studied her for a beat longer before he sighed.

"Penelope and I are not involved romantically, if that's what you are wondering. She has always been fond of me more so than I would like." He folded his body and sat back down on the stool, meeting Amy's eyes evenly. "She is what society would without a doubt deem as beautiful." He licked his lower lip and cocked his head to the side. "But I have never felt for her anything more than an acquaintanceship." He clasped his hands together. "And I never will."

"I see," she said, nodding her head. "I guess I just assumed that you were an item because…" She trailed off, not wanting to give away the conversation with Howard and Bernadette earlier that evening. "Because every time I've seen you two together you seem to be engaged in an argument or a heated discussion. Like last night on the porch. And…"

He perched his eyebrow. "And?"

"And," Amy persisted. "Earlier this evening by the stage. She saw me waiting for you and wasn't very subtle about not wanting me around. Well, you were there, you know what happened." She sighed, suddenly very uncomfortable. "Do you suppose her anger has anything to do with me?"

"It most certainly does."

Amy's jaw dropped. "Really?"

"It seems that she has picked up on how drawn I am to you," Sheldon said with another signature smirk. When Amy got paler, the smile slipped right off of his face. "What's the matter?"

Amy shook off the eerie memory of her vision of a burning Penelope before focusing on Sheldon again. "I don't want to be the cause of a rift between you and your friend."

He scoffed. "I assure you, her unpleasantness is not something your arrival has spawned."

"So she did say something about me to you?"

"She is threatened by your presence," he said simply, shrugging his broad shoulders. "Can't blame her."

"Stop," Amy pleaded as she shyly looked away. "I couldn't even begin to compare to Penelope." She hated how self-deprecating she was coming off. But between her horrifying vision of the blond siren just minutes earlier and the struggle with self-image Amy had battled her entire life, she had a difficult time believing a dapper man like Sheldon Cooper could ever choose her when someone like Penelope was up for the taking.

As these thoughts pummeled her brain, causing an ache to ripple down to her temples, she suddenly felt Sheldon brace both of his large hands on her knees then slowly leaned forward, his lips stopping by her ear. "For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds…" His voice was creamy, tasty. Amy grinned at the floor as he breathed the next line. "Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds."

"More Shakespeare," she murmured. Her nerve endings were expanding, shrieking with delight at how close he was to her. He pressed on her knees with his palms, the heat coming off of his body warming her.

"Seems to be the only way I can convey how I feel to you," Sheldon said softly. And then he leaned away from her, straightening his back before he squeezed her knees again. "Penelope is a beautiful woman, a fine actress. But at her core she is jealous of what others have that she doesn't, even if whatever it may be isn't something she had ever coveted before. She allows her pride and unpleasantness to eat her from the inside out. She is not good." He brought one hand to his chest as he said good. "And because of this, she is not exquisite."

Amy nodded when he finished speaking, still refusing to meet his eyes.

"Come with me," he said.

She finally raised her eyes to meet his. "Where?"

"To the bedroom." The lower register of his voice kindled a swirling in Amy's abdomen. He rose to his feet and extended his hand to hers. She offered her uninjured hand after a second's hesitation and slowly stood up. "Careful," he warned, steadying her as she wobbled on her heels. "You lost some blood, take it slow."

"Sorry again about the wine," she said awkwardly as he led her out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom. She looked at the mess on the bed. "And the broken glass. And the blood." She frowned deeply. "And for being so nosy."

"No need to apologize," he assured her. He let go of her hand before he walked up to his bed and gathered the thick duvet in his arms, ripping it off the mattress and rolling it up to keep the broken glass from falling out. Then he carefully set the bundle of fabric on the floor. He turned back to face Amy and waved his arm at the bed. "Shall we?"

She hesitated for a moment, not willing to have a repeat of what happened earlier, but when she glanced up and saw how the dim light of the room hit Sheldon's lofty figure just right, her heart hammered in her chest and she felt compelled to climb back onto the bed and never get off. When she lifted herself and settled on top of the sheets, Sheldon nodded, happy with her following instructions, and followed suit. They situated themselves so that they were both sitting Indian style in the center of the mattress, facing each other and grinning like fools. "So what else would you like to know?"

Amy's eyes were fluttering closed on their own accord. Sometime during the last few hours, the rain had finally stopped pounding against the window in Sheldon's bedroom and the dull roar of the guests downstairs had completely silenced. She blinked once and sighed as her eyelids protested, struggling to stay closed. But she lifted them and once again he filled her view. They were now on their backs, finding their way to this comfortable position while they talked for hours about everything and nothing. Their heads had remained turned towards each other, and occasionally one of them would graze their fingers along the other's hand, giving them both something to feel as the conversation carried well into the midnight hour. Tiny shadows had formed underneath Sheldon's round blue eyes, giving Amy the impression that he was just as tired as she was. But neither of them wanted to succumb to their exhaustion, since it would mean that the night was over.

Fortunately, no more hallucinations of Penelope or anxiety crept up on Amy as she allowed herself to become better acquainted with the man before her. He had revealed that he was born and raised in southeast Texas by his mother and her parents, whom Sheldon affectionately referred to as Meemaw and Pop Pop. At 26 years-old, fresh out of grad school with a masters in business and terribly unhappy with his life and the lack of motivation to continue on, he was at a loss of what to do next.

"I was very nearly suicidal," he admitted. "My mother is a lovely woman, but she is a religious nut. She didn't understand me. She tried forcing me to partake in church and other things that I just did not believe in. She wanted me to take the safe route, always stay on the straight and narrow. I dreamt of bigger things. And one day, that bigger thing found me in the form of phone call."

He explained how a call from a law firm in Seattle had told him that his biological father, whom he had never met, had died and left him, his only son, some land in upstate Washington.

"If you had never met him, why would he leave you anything?" Amy asked.

"I wasn't sure at first. My mother was even more puzzled. She said she had met my father only in passing, which was always a hard story for me to hear. They met because his acting company, a very poor group of misfits that practically performed for peanuts and toured the country in an RV, had passed through Houston one month in the summer. It was a summer romance, she had told me after so many years of remaining mum on the issue. She said that after they courted for a few weeks and she realized she was pregnant, she told him immediately, but he would have none of it. He left her and she had never heard from him again."

"That's insane." Amy was completely engaged in his story, craving his history. "So how could he have known that you even existed if he never followed up with your mom or the progress of her pregnancy?"

"Good question," Sheldon said with a smirk. "I was curious of course to see what sort of land this virtual sperm donor had left me. I left home at once and traveled to the Pacific Northwest, interested only in collecting what profit I could from selling the land he had left and washing my hands of everything, starting over somewhere fresh. Instead, I found that the land he had left me was this very house."

"Amazing."

Sheldon nodded, eating up Amy's expression of wonder. "Long story short, my biological father came from money, and being that I was the only heir alive, it was all mine." He sighed and turned away, straightening his neck to stare up at the ceiling. "I found a map in one of the rooms down the hall," he continued after a moment, his voice becoming more animated, excited. "It led me to the theater in the woods. And in that moment, I knew that the life I was led to had purpose. It took months to make the stage presentable after years of misuse left it in disrepair, and even longer to find the other performers, but soon, my life had finally found its meaning. My calling." He craned his neck again to face her. "It was like this place, this escape from reality, had been waiting for me all of my life. And I was home."

Amy froze at the sudden wave of familiarity that Sheldon's story provided. But she swallowed down the eerie feeling that formed in her gut and threatened to rise and reached out to squeeze his hand gently. "This place suits you."

"I can say the same for you." He smiled tiredly at her. "I've been talking for hours. Please, tell me more about you."

Amy stiffened as they finally arrived at the portion of the evening she had been dreading. If she could bottle this moment in time, their bodies close to each other without touching, the complete silence that enveloped them, this perfect, euphoric sense of calmness, she would. She felt so at ease with Sheldon and found herself desiring him in ways that she had never thought would be possible for her, ways that she had given up on ever feeling long ago. But if she revealed her truths, her past, her life to him, she was very sure that she would lose him. And she couldn't, not when she had just got him.

She found herself wondering how he couldn't know her. Her father's celebrity went hand-in-hand with the fact he had an imbalanced daughter. To know Robbie Fowler was to know the legend of Amy. And yet, the lost look on Sheldon's face made her heart swell. Perhaps coming to this place was her only hope to survive, a place where no one knew her and she could start over. Both her father and Sheldon's had provided an escape for their children, they had that in common. She was suddenly grateful for the man in front of her. He wanted to know her and not her past.

When she peered over at Sheldon what she saw was sanctuary.

"What if I told you that who I used to be doesn't exist anymore?" She watched his eyes go wide as she continued. "What if all there is to me, to Amy Farrah Fowler, is what you have in front of you?" He was quiet for a few moments, mulling over her question. Just when she was afraid he would call her nuts, he spoke.

"Then I'd say I would rather have this Amy than no Amy at all." He licked at his lips and his blue eyes shimmered slightly as they roamed all over her face, studying her as if he was seeing her for the first time. "And I'd say that after four years of living alone here, that you got here just in time."

She blushed deeply and buried her body further into the mattress. "What do you mean?"

"I feel something, Amy," he said quietly, his voice hoarse with sleep. "When I first saw you, when you stumbled out of the woods and upon my theater, I was intrigued just at the sight of you." He brought his arm around and flipped onto his side so that his entire body was now facing her. He traced his fingers down her face until they reached the tendons in her neck and lingered there on her skin. "But now that I've spent time with you, I'm addicted." He lowered his gaze until they reached her lips and he kept them there, studying the plump skin of her lower lip with purpose. "When you told me in the woods that you didn't plan on staying here long, I meant it when I said I wasn't going to let you go."

Amy daringly flipped her body as well so that she was lying on her side. She faced Sheldon and matched his intense stare. "I don't think I could leave now if I tried."

They were both watching each other's mouths now with a primal yearning that she could nearly taste. Amy knew what was coming next though she had never done it before. To kiss a man was unthinkable to her, being that she had never been around any man she found desirable. The men she longed to kiss were on the screen of the movies she watched. In the past, anyway.

But at that moment, as they slowly leaned into each other, Amy had never wanted to feel anything more than Sheldon's lips on hers. Before long, she felt his breath again on her face. He reached up suddenly and gently removed her glasses, folding them and placing them on the pillows above them. When he returned his gaze to her, he smiled shyly. Then he placed his warm palm below her jaw and slightly curled his fingers, cupping her neck before pulling her closer to him. And after what seemed like years, their lips finally met. She felt the smooth, silky inside of his mouth on her closed upper lip while he gently suckled on her bottom one. Her eyes were shut tight in fear that any vision of a burning Penelope or any other horrifying image waiting in the recesses of her mind would ruin this moment. Seamlessly, Sheldon continued to apply pressure, pressing his peppermint-flavored mouth against hers, their breathing in rhythm, their heads tilted at opposite angles so that they fit each other perfectly.

The hand on her neck became more insistent in pulling her closer and the feel of his touch set fire to her skin. A tumbling wave of pressure began in her stomach and expanded slowly, scaling every inch of her body as suddenly, Sheldon pushed his tongue against the line of her mouth, begging for entrance. And she granted him permission, slightly parting her lips to let him fill her completely. Her senses heightened at the slippery feel of his tongue against her own and on pure instinct, she laid flat on her back, pressing her shoulder blades into the mattress.

"Amy," Sheldon groaned softly, the abrupt departure of her lips from his causing him great distress. A split second later, he realized that it wasn't her intention to stop kissing him at all, but to invite him to a better position in which to continue. She gently tugged on his hand and led it to her hip bone, and Sheldon did the rest. He immediately pulled himself up and crawled over to her, hovering above before he lowered himself down and reattached his lips to hers. This time he didn't politely wait for her permission to use his tongue and it freely darted it into her mouth, probing every crevice like he was trying to memorize her.

She moaned into his mouth and carefully raised her arm with the injured hand above her head, while the other hand reached up and ran her fingers through his short hair. She innately bent her knuckles and gently scratched his scalp, causing a loud, purr-like noise to vibrate throughout his whole body which spanned the length of her. At that moment, she felt him push his hips into her side and the sensation of something rigid and thick rubbed against her stomach, both startling and delighting her. But being the novice that she was, she instinctively removed her lips from his, frightened by how carried away they had gotten. She froze beneath Sheldon's icy stare, his obvious arousal prodding the soft skin on her side where her shirt had slightly ridden up just below her breasts, exposing her ribs to him.

He glared down at her in confusion, wondering why their lips were no longer connected. But suddenly, as if a cold bucket of water had splashed him, Sheldon too suddenly became very aware of how far it had gotten. He exhaled slowly and shut his eyes tight, still hovering over Amy. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Then he rolled onto his back, immediately removing his hands from her. She turned her head to study him; his chest was heaving up and down as he struggled to catch his breath like he had just gotten done jogging. His eyes met hers and she could see how dark they had become in the last few minutes.

"No, I'm sorry," she said. "I just…I've never done this before." Shame threatened to add pink to her already flush complexion.

"Don't apologize," Sheldon insisted, his breathing finally regulating. "And for someone who claims they've never done this before, that was very, very good." He reached up and ran a hand through his hair, touching the spot on his scalp where Amy had grazed her fingernails and nearly drove him mad with pleasure. She giggled at his compliment and looked up at the ceiling as he spoke again. "If you're not ready to go any further, I completely understand. But it might be a good place to end the evening. If you continue lying in my bed like this, well, let's just say I've reached my gentleman quota for the day."

Amy laughed as Sheldon shook his head slowly, seemingly amazed at his own restraint. "I agree," she chuckled. "Should I call a cab?"

He did a double-take, perching an eyebrow as he peered over at her. "Are you kidding me?"

"I just…I don't want you to have to prepare a horse just to take me home, and I doubt Bernadette and Howard are in any condition to drive me…"

"Amy," Sheldon stopped her, shaking his head as he propped himself up on his elbows. "This is the 21st century, you know. I own a car."

The short break in the rain was good news for Amy. On the ride home, Sheldon left the top down on his silver Lexus, and the cool, wet air was welcome on her flushed cheeks. She closed her eyes as they winded down the road surrounded by lush forest on either side, and the fresh air filled her nostrils, swirled in her chest, and expelled out of her mouth. She lifted her arms up, the simulated feeling of flight as Sheldon sped freely on the pavement once again approaching her.

She arched her back and sighed then looked over at Sheldon who was sneaking glances in her direction. He looked completely at ease in the driver's seat, his body relaxed and one hand draped over the steering wheel. His lips were still swollen and tinted with a cherry-like color from their kissing. He was still in his nice slacks and dress shirt, but the once-pressed fabric was now disheveled. Every time he took his eyes off the road and placed them on Amy's body, he gave off the impression of a man dying of thirst. He watched her like she was the only thing that could save him.

"Amy," he called to her over the loud gusts of wind. "It's you."

"What?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

"It's you," he repeated, glancing at the road before turning back to meet her eye. "You are my definition of exquisite."

Visions of burning women and nightmares of the forest on fire outside of her window be damned—there was nothing that could make her take her medication now. She wouldn't go back to who she was, where life was tasteless and bland, black and white. The life Robbie Fowler had created for her the last ten years that would have caused her to miss out on this. She grinned back at him and squeezed his hand that found hers in the dark.

Like she told Sheldon, there was no other Amy except for the one in front of him. For once, she felt like she was living her life in color.