A/N: Just a reminder—this town that I've set the story in is made up. And if it's actually real, that's purely coincidental (and lazy on my part for not researching it). Hope you guys are ready for this chapter. Enjoy ;]

Amy yawned quietly and her eyes fluttered opened. As she regained consciousness after a long restful sleep, she felt many things at once. First, the warmth of Shakespeare's long, furry body propped up against her hip and leg. His cacophonous snores beneath the sheets immediately made her smile sleepily.

Next, she felt a stinging pain in her hand and realized the numbing ointment had long since faded while she slept, and beneath her gauze-wrapped hand the injury from last night was irritated and needed to be tended to.

Finally, Amy felt her stomach take flight as memories of her evening yesterday with Sheldon flooded her brain. When they arrived in her driveway, he promised to return to her tomorrow evening again to pick her up for that night's performances. She shuddered as she remembered how he leaned over the middle console as the car idled and lightly brushed his lips against hers. He pulled away quickly, his eyes darkening by the second and she climbed out of the car before they could start getting hot and heavy again. Then she floated on a cloud into her house before falling into a restful slumber.

Her eyes slowly closed and she rolled over to her back, away from the heap of covers and her sleeping dog and she found herself on the cool side of the bed. The new sensation of the uninhabited sheets against the skin of her legs made her body react in a peculiar way. Without quite understanding why, she drew in her ankles towards her body, her legs bent at the knees, and her thighs purposefully pushed together, clenching right in front of her. She felt her lower abdomen and center warm at the contact and then she let out the tiniest of moans. Sensations she had never felt before ran through her body like a tremor as she lazily ran her eyes up and down her legs. Although she could hardly see a thing without her glasses, she was suddenly very aware of the creamy skin on her fleshy yet defined thighs and the attractive curve of her hips. Hazy light from her curtain-less windows filled her room, creating a grayish blue atmosphere and she heard a rumbling of thunder in the distance.

She imagined what it would be like to have Sheldon in bed with her at that moment. Immediately, she pictured him running his hands along her legs in the same zigzag pattern that she was flicking her eyes over the skin. Then, she parted her knees slowly and closed her eyes as a clear vision of Sheldon appearing between her legs solidified. His blue eyes danced teasingly while in her vision, he lowered his lips and kissed her knees, then trailed down to her calves. She gasped as she imagined the vivid, wet feel of his mouth mumbling in approval against the skin of her legs. She ran her good hand through her hair while the fingernails of her injured hand grazed her soft stomach over her pajamas.

Her eyes abruptly flew open when the bed had begun to vibrate on account of Shakespeare's strange, sudden growls. She propped herself up on her elbows, blinking the sleep from her eyes as a figure came into view. Unable to make out what was in front of her, Amy reached over to her night stand and grabbed her glasses before slipping them on to get a better look.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, golden hair wrapped in a perfect, albeit stylishly messy bun, freshly applied make-up, and her fire-red gown, was Penelope.

"Stupid little girl, dreaming the day away." She smiled evilly, making eye contact with Amy. Then she looked down her perky nose at Shakespeare who had emerged from under the sheets with his tail sticking out of one side and his face on the other. "Woof," she said to him as growls continued to rack his body.

"Why are you still wearing your dress from last night?" Amy asked casually, not the least bit surprised to see the woman in her bed. At least this time, she wasn't on fire.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Penelope hissed.

Shakespeare barked, warning Penelope to keep her distance. The blonde woman did not move. She sat perched at the foot of the bed with her legs crossed, back straight, and eyes boring into Amy who was frumpy in her flannel PJ top.

"What is that mutt's problem?" she asked.

Amy nodded thoughtfully. She thought of Sheldon's hands and lips that had been on her last night, the way he looked over and called her exquisite. How she wanted to feel it all over again. She bit her lower lip and regarded the woman at the foot of her bed. Amy obviously wasn't well. "Should I take my medication, Penelope?" she asked.

At this, Penelope's features thawed. For a moment, she looked human, almost vulnerable. She turned her face away.

"Not unless you want to wake up."

Amy was afraid she might say that.

The butterflies and the warmth that thoughts of Sheldon had brought, along with Penelope sitting at the foot of her bed, disappeared. She heard another crash of thunder and watched her window as lightening crackled against the sky. Shakespeare continued to growl viciously and she peered down at him, sighing heavily. She realized that it had been the rain that he was growling at the entire time.

Amy sat at a table outside of a small café on the corner of the block. She slipped bits of her scone to Shakespeare whose leash was tied to her metal chair. Dressed in black pants with a white and black striped shirt, Amy knew it was a longshot that she would be recognized here, but tried to keep as inconspicuous as possible. Her jean jacket blocked out the chilly air, but at least it wasn't raining. The sky was an angry gray, dark and menacing even though it was only noon. She wondered if she could stand to be any paler, suddenly missing the spring time weather of New York. She looked down at her bandaged hand, a reminder of what was here, and she realized she didn't miss the sun that much. Placing her wrist on the table, she studied the newly wrapped gauze. It wasn't done as neatly as Sheldon's work, but it would have to do.

When she finally rolled out of bed this morning, she showered and dressed before pausing in front of the vanity mirror in the bathroom that held her medication. She was now on her second day of missing her doses. Aside from her hallucinations of Penelope and slightly elevated anxiety, she didn't feel very different. Except guilt when she remembered how she promised her father she would take care of herself after she finally left the institution and moved into the brownstone on her own; taking care of herself included keeping up with her medication.

"But you're dead, Pop," Amy said aloud just to hear something, remind herself that she was still there even though he wasn't.

She left the medication in the cabinet and walked downstairs to her bare kitchen. The few snacks that she had bought, cups of yogurt, bread and sandwich meat along with bottled water and several cheap bottles of wine, were not enough to live on. She figured she would have to go back into town soon and purchase actual food to cook and stock her kitchen with, but she took one look at the gas-powered stove and blanched. She steadily walked up to the stove and turned the knob for the burner, listening to the sharp clicks as the gas readied the fire and it shot up with a whoosh. The small ring of flames burned as the smell of the union reached her nostrils and she inhaled deeply. Slowly, she turned the knob again to extinguish the fire. She shuddered and breathed out. If she could control herself, there was no reason she couldn't live without her meds.

Detaching her hand from the knob on the stove, she peered over her shoulder, suddenly feeling very tense as though somebody was watching her. Shakespeare was sitting on the threshold between the dining room and the kitchen, staring up at her patiently. She studied him, waiting for him to growl or bark at the smell of an intruder, but when he did neither, she shook the feeling away.

"Want to go for a walk, buddy?" she asked him. He happily wagged his tail and she leashed him before grabbing her satchel and heading out to the car. Now they were here at the café, finishing brunch.

While her dog panted and people-watched, Amy studied the leather-bound journal she brought along. She poised her number-2 pencil over the page and scratched a few words that had been on her mind all morning:

Hallucinate

Fire

Desire

"Amy?"

She looked up quickly, slamming her journal shut. She blinked as Rajesh Koothrappali appeared in front of her, wearing a stylish black coat that hung to his knees, along with gray slacks and a white dress shirt beneath it. He looked very handsome with his hair slicked on the sides and styled high at the front, and for a moment, Amy contemplated not answering him, fearful that she was hallucinating yet another person.

"It's me, Raj." He peered down at her with a slightly worried expression, and again, Amy remained silent until she saw Shakespeare rise from his haunches and pad over to Raj, sniffing his hands and nudging his fingers in a friendly greeting. "Oh, what a nice pooch," he cooed, bending at the knee to lean down and pet Shakespeare's head.

"Raj, of course, hi," Amy sputtered, relieved that she wasn't seeing things for the second time that day. "I'm so sorry, you just caught me by surprise. How are you?"

"A little worse for wear to be honest," he chuckled, patting the head of her dog. He straightened his frame and put his hand in his pocket. She noticed his other hand held a briefcase. "Drank a little too much last night, and I had an early meeting today at work."

"Oh, no," Amy said sympathetically, slightly leaning her head to the side. "Would you like to sit down? I was just going to order a coffee."

"How kind of you to have me," he gushed, smiling widely as he pulled out the only other metal chair at the table and took a seat, setting his case down. Shakespeare watched him, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"It's my pleasure," Amy assured him. She smiled both at Raj and at herself for recovering from her initial awkwardness and inviting him to sit with her. Deep breaths, she commanded herself. "So, what brings you over here?"

"Taking a quick lunch," he answered. He immediately relaxed into his chair, crossing an ankle over his knee and smiling at Amy. "It's so nice to see a familiar face."

"Indeed it is."

"How are you liking Evergreen Falls?"

"It's…different," Amy said carefully. "Not different bad, just a different pace for what I'm used to."

"Where are you from?"

"New York City," she answered proudly.

"Ah, the Red Apple," Raj said with an impressed nod. Amy bit her lip to stifle a laugh. "What?" he asked, noticing her expression.

"I think you mean the Big Apple." She shook her head to dismiss his mistake as he lowered his eyes in embarrassment.

"Yes, of course." He cleared his throat and met her stare before they both erupted into laughter. "I've been in this country for 10 years and I'm still learning new things every day." He flagged down a waitress and ordered two coffees, specifying how he would like his prepared before he asked Amy how she wanted hers.

"No cream, but can you ground some cinnamon into it, please?" she asked the waitress, who nodded and walked away.

"Amy, what happened to your hand?" Raj suddenly asked, noticing her bandaged wrist and palm.

"Oh," she laughed dismissively. "I fell in the woods last night as we made our way back to the Coliseum. I'm okay though. Sheldon had a first aid kit." She blushed slightly, not sure if she should have mentioned that she was walking with Sheldon, but when Raj didn't show any indication of finding this peculiar, she relaxed. "It doesn't hurt, just a scrape." He nodded, satisfied with her answer, and they smiled at each other. After a comfortable silence, Amy could no longer hold back her curiosity. "Raj? You look awfully professional. If you don't mind me asking, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a partner at the biggest law firm in the commonwealth, Sanford, Michaels & Berry," he answered with a smile, garnering a wide-eyed gawk from Amy.

"Amazing," she murmured, truly meaning it. "You seem so young…"

"I am," Raj laughed. "I'm only 30. But I had an accelerated education and worked very hard to get where I am today."

"I could only imagine." Amy wilted slightly. Raj was only two years older than her and achieving success in leaps and bounds. His last ten years were spent in academic and professional success while she spent the last decade in a stoic trance where she was prohibited from touching sharp or flammable objects. "Well, that's great, Raj. But how does an accomplished lawyer like you find himself in the company of stage performers at night?"

"I've always enjoyed the theater. And when I was ultimately invited to join, I thought I would give it a go to try and overcome my fear of speaking to women. An after party at the Coliseum helped me discover that booze helps me speak to the other sex. This was, of course, before Howard healed me by hypnotism."

Amy nodded, remembering the fascinating story. "How interesting. Have you ever invited any of your colleagues to come see you perform?" She sipped from her coffee as Raj stiffened.

"Hmmm," he hummed, abruptly avoiding eye contact for the first time since he had seen her. She noticed how he began to bounce his leg, causing the ankle he had crossed to quiver.

"I'm sorry," she said, noticing his obvious discomfort. "I didn't mean to pry. Don't worry, next subject."

"No, it's not that you're prying," Raj said quickly. "I just don't know if I'm breaking any rules here."

Although his accent wasn't so thick that she couldn't understand him, she still strained to comprehend what he said, thinking maybe she misheard him. "Did you say 'rules'?"

"Yes," he said carefully. "Forgive me, Amy. But did Howard and Bernadette not explain the rules to you?"

Amy suddenly sat back in her chair, her chin close to her neck as she eyed Raj questioningly. "No, they didn't say a thing about rules. What are you talking about?"

"Well," he started but then paused, looking over both of his shoulders before resuming. "Performers are not supposed to discuss the stage with outsiders. What we have in the woods is sacred, brilliant. But that's as far as it goes."

"Oh," Amy said, frowning. "Well, I'm not a performer."

"I know, which is why I'm unsure of what to say. I don't want to break any of our anonymity rules, but then again, you were welcomed by Sheldon Cooper himself." He brought a hand up to his chin, stroking the line of his jaw in thought. "We've had observers before. But they quickly became performers. Are you sure you don't plan on taking the stage?"

"No," Amy said assertively. "I don't perform. At all." She chewed on her lower lip before asking her next question. "Who makes these rules, Raj?"

"Well, Sheldon of course," he answered easily. He looked up and saw the waitress bringing their coffees, immediately pulling out his wallet and handed her a $20 bill and shook his head when she offered to bring back his change. When she was gone, he continued. "He makes the rules." He laughed before adding, "That makes him sound like some sort of dictator, doesn't it? No, Sheldon has the right idea. We try to remain very hush on our arrangement in the woods and the Coliseum."

"I see," she mumbled, making a mental note to ask Sheldon about these rules when she saw him later. "But in remaining a secret, what is the appeal?"

"Isn't it obvious, Amy?" Raj grinned over his cup of coffee before taking a sip. "Mystery."

Amy grinned back in spite of herself at his impish expression.

"If too many people came or found out about it, it would ruin the exclusivity. Don't you think?"

"But you all are performers. I was under the impression that performers like to be seen, discovered."

"I think we're all there for the same reasons, none of which include obtaining fame," Raj said, his nose scrunching up when he said fame. "It's a cathartic experience, baring your soul to nature and a few of your closest friends. Can you imagine trying to do the same with a camera in your face?"

Amy could imagine this. She had grown up around cameras stuck in her face. Her father did it for a living. "I see your point," she conceded, taking another sip of her beverage.

After more silence, Raj sighed and looked down at his sparkling wrist watch. "Well, I'd better head back to the office. Will you be joining us tonight, Amy?"

"Yes, I will." She bit her tongue, deciding not to share that she would be attending with Sheldon. Suddenly, a shower of drizzle fell on them, accompanied by a boom of thunder just near them. "Wow," she said as she looked up and realized how much darker it had become in such a short time. "Weather permitting, of course."

"I would hate to get rained out tonight, especially since our performances were cut short last night," Raj huffed, squinting up at the sky. "Alright, I'm only a block away, so I'm going to start walking now before it begins to pour. Do you have an umbrella?"

"No," Amy said shyly, knowing how ridiculous that was. She had been living in one of the wettest areas of the continental U.S. for a week and had yet to purchase an umbrella. "But my car is right here at the curb. I'll see you later Raj. Thank you for the coffee."

"My pleasure, Amy." He gave her one last smile and ducked his head as he headed in the direction of his office. Shakespeare whined as he watched his new friend depart, and Amy looked down at him and rolled her eyes.

"Are you that bored with me already?" she asked him. She removed his leash from her chair and they trotted to her car to get out of the rain.

She stared miserably out of her bedroom window as thick sheets of rain pummeled the glass pane. The wind was blowing just as fiercely as the rain was falling, and the howling racket that accompanied it just saddened her further. Although it wasn't quite time for the sun to set yet, had she been able to see it at all, the atmosphere surrounding her house was pitch black and ominous. The huddle of forest beyond her property bent loyally to Mother Nature's fury, and Amy sighed at the sight.

It was evident that the performances would be cancelled tonight, which ultimately meant that she would not be seeing Sheldon either. And the fact that they had not exchanged phone numbers, Amy was near tears. She had truly been looking forward to another magical night with Sheldon, sure, but she was also beginning to develop a bit of cabin fever. After her trip to town and coffee with Raj, she had come home to an empty house of course, but had yet to discover any parts of the enormous abode that wasn't her bedroom, kitchen, or living room. There were still 9 rooms that were ready for exploration, and she was too petrified to walk down the hall in fear of what she would find.

Logically, she knew that if a homeless person was indeed feasting upon rodents and meth in one of the bedroom closets, they surely would have made their presence known by now. Again, Amy's head began to swim with questions, wondering just what her father could have been thinking to lead her to this tomb of a house on her own. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. She suddenly felt very alone.

With emotion threatening to overcome her, she reached for her satchel that laid on her bed and pulled it on, deciding she no longer wanted to pace in her bedroom. She called for Shakespeare and he leapt off the bed, following her closely as she took the stairs two at a time until she reached the ground floor. Heading into the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of wine from the counter, disregarding the need for a glass, and headed into the dark living room. She stopped at the mouth of the room, trying to remember where the light switch was again. Moving forward slowly, she pushed one arm in front of her, feeling for the wall. She bumped into something hard and gasped before remembering that it was just her arm chair, which she had moved out of the hallway and finally placed it in the living room, right front of the fireplace. A fireplace that she never planned on using.

"But aren't you cold?"

Amy froze as the familiar voice filled her ears. The hand with the wine bottle gripped the neck tightly and she slowly spun to search for the source of the voice. "Hello?" she asked timidly. A sliver of light poured out of the kitchen, illuminating the hallway and little else.

"Why aren't you going to use the fireplace?" Penelope asked again. Amy jerked her neck in the direction of the noise, but saw nothing except for the darkened corners of the large living area. "Scared of a little blaze?"

"Please, leave me alone," Amy whispered as she moved forward again, reaching blindly for the light switch on the wall. Outside, thunder rolled and her heart pounded in unison.

"Stupid little girl," Penelope giggled. "Dreaming the day away."

Her throat began to constrict as her hands ran over the wallpaper, and she winced as the gauze caught a nail in the wall and strained against her hand injury. "Fuck!" she cried, feeling the tumbling waves of panic begin to build up inside of her.

"Someone's here," Penelope whispered harshly right in Amy's ear, catching her off-guard at the sudden proximity of the voice. She gasped and tripped, crashing to the floor on her hands and knees.

Sure enough, a pounding sounded on her door and Shakespeare came hurtling down the hallway, stopping at the door and rising on his hind paws as he barked at the intruder on the other side. Amy blinked dumbly before scrambling to her feet. She gulped in deep breaths and reached out to the wall to steady herself. As her fingers pressed against the wallpaper, they purchased a smooth plate and the knob of the light switch. She flipped it upward and the light flooded the room. She peered around with narrowed eyes through her smudged glasses, looking around for any trace of Penelope. When she found none, she exhaled.

The knocking persisted and Shakespeare let out another long howl of alarm. Tearing her eyes away from the living room, Amy realized that someone was truly at the door and wasn't a figment of her imagination. She walked tentatively up to the foyer and placed her good hand on the brass knob. "Who…who is it?" she asked meekly.

"Amy?" The voice was nearly drowned out by the angry clatter of thunder, but she pulled the door open anyway, searching with blurry vision for what she hoped were blue eyes against a sea of darkness. She took a step back as a white arm reached out to her from the dark porch, followed by the towering body of a soaked man. His black hair was sloppily matted against his forehead and water dripped from his nose and cheeks.

She shuddered a breath of relief and closed the gap between them in one step, wrapping her trembling arms around his neck, relishing the feel of his damp, sturdy body against her.

"Amy, are you okay?" he asked, his voice soaked with concern as he walked forward with her attached to him, wrapping one arm around her waist while the other closed the door behind him. "You're shaking."

"You came," Amy whispered against his moist neck. In one ear, she heard her unexpected guest ask her again if she was okay, Shakespeare continued to bark, and the rain continued to roar. In the other ear, a whisper from somewhere behind her reminded her that it doesn't last before it silenced, finally leaving her alone with Sheldon.

He rubbed his hair furiously with a clean dish towel Amy had retrieved from one of the unpacked boxes sitting in the kitchen sink. She watched him, leaning over the counter with her chin in her elbow. He turned around and swiped the towel over his neck and arms, then finally rubbed his face before catching Amy's eyes with his own. "What?" he asked, feeling the weight of her intense stare.

"I'm just happy to see you," Amy answered with bold honesty. She let her eyes roam over him, studying his soaked dark jeans and red and gray checkered shirt that hugged his body. "But it was so dangerous to drive over here in this weather."

"I didn't have your number," he said simply, tossing the dish towel to the sink. He took a few steps towards the counter that she leaned on, coming closer to her. "I came to tell you that performances were cancelled tonight on account of the rain."

Amy let out a laugh as he gave her a goofy grin. "Gee, thanks. I never would have figured it out otherwise." It felt good to laugh, she realized, now that her heart had finally slowed to a regular pace. The events in the living room transpired so quickly she couldn't be sure if it actually happened or if it was all in her head. All that mattered now was that Sheldon had come to her when she had been at her loneliest.

"Well, I also came to tell you something else," he said softly as he folded his body and leaned over the counter as well, the partition the only thing separating them.

"And what's that?" Amy whispered as his face came closer to hers. He tucked his elbows in and leaned further until he stopped his lips right in front of hers. She closed her eyes as he spoke again, his breath washing over her face.

"This." He innocently pressed his mouth against hers, slightly parting his lips just enough to take in her bottom lip suck it gently. Then he pulled away and gauged her reaction, perching one of his eyebrows high in a devilish smirk.

Amy's eyes fluttered open as she returned his smile. "Message received." They both chuckled quietly. "Thank you for being here."

"Anytime," he promised. After a moment of silence, he turned away from her and looked around her kitchen. "Are we going to stay in here all night or are you going to give me the grand tour?"

"Oh," Amy said shortly, her heart racing all over again. Her legs were still shaking from her ordeal just before he arrived, and the prospect of inspecting the house frightened her. Not to mention she was petrified that she would freak out and have another hallucination at any moment. "I'm not sure…"

"Come on," Sheldon insisted, walking around the counter to her side. He held out his hand for her to take. "Don't be scared. I'll hold your hand."

After a moment's hesitation, Amy entwined her fingers with his, grasping his damp palm tightly with her good hand. "Don't let go," she warned, half-serious.

"Never," he said softly and winked down at her as she led him out of the kitchen.

"Who are you talking to, little bear?" Robbie Fowler asked his eight year-old daughter as she sat on a swing in their backyard.

"Huh?" Amy grunted, looking up at her father through her tiny pink glasses. The sun shone brightly on her sleek, brown pony tail.

"I heard you talking, Amy," Robbie said before carefully lowering himself onto the adjacent swing. He looked down and smiled at her. "Your imaginary friends are back?"

"They never go away," Amy corrected him.

"Is it your bad friends or your good friends?"

"Which ones are my bad ones again?" she asked, squinting her eyes.

"The bad ones are the ones that told you to play with Daddy's lighter not too long ago," he reminded her sternly, furrowing his eyebrows. He watched as Amy pushed her feet to the ground and backed up, poising to swing. "Are those the friends you're talking to right now, little bear?"

Amy lifted her feet off the ground and swung back and forth. In one ear, her father asked her again who she was talking to, in the other ear, a woman told her to swing faster, higher and higher, all the way to the heavens.