A/N: Does anyone out there hate me? I am so sorry for the delay! I'm absolutely sick over it. But school and work demanded more out of me than I anticipated this month. To those of you who have stuck with me, and to my new readers, I promise I will see this story through to the end. Never believe that I'll leave you permanently.

There's a link to my tumblr and twitter account in my profile where I often update about the progress of my fic. You're welcome to follow me on there and yell at me if it ever seems like I go missing again. :]

Enjoy this chapter as the plot deliciously thickens.

Summer, 1981

Evergreen Falls, WA

George Cooper's long fingers were wrapped tightly around the tiny hand of his girlfriend's as they trekked carefully through the dark woods. They were losing the late afternoon sunlight the deeper they moved into the forest as the foliage thickened above them. He squinted at the piece of parchment in his free hand and stopped abruptly.

"Baby?" Helena Rostenkowski asked softly, squeezing George's fingers with hers. She knew better than to chastise him, regardless if they were on a wild goose chase with the stupid map George had found earlier. Her boyfriend had an explosive temper that she did not like to ignite. "What is it?"

"I can't read this fucking thing," he cursed, turning it over and back again. "Robbie, get over here!"

Robbie Fowler appeared by his best friend's side in seconds, but not before casually brushing his arm against Helena's hip. She blushed deeply and let go of George's hand as the two men hunched over the map. She studied George's defined back, broad shoulders, and shaggy raven hair as he stood next to Robbie's shorter, stockier frame.

"It's just a little further up and to the left," Robbie confirmed, ripping the page away from George's hands. He began to lead the way as the taller man scowled a little and pulled Helena along.

Although Robbie and he had grown up together and were the best of friends, George couldn't help but feel like Robbie made everything a competition. Together, they had formed an acting group and toured the country in George's RV, but everyone thanked Robbie for the experience. Sure, he was the best performer out of all of them and was the one who drew in the crowds, but if it had not been for George's convincing, Fowler never would have come along at all. He was constantly taking credit for everything, and when they found where this map was leading them, he would surely take that from George, too.

He tightened his grip on Helena's hand subconsciously.

"Up here!" Robbie called, a blip in the darkness thanks to his white t-shirt. "It's a clearing."

"Hank!" George hollered over his shoulder at one of the other guys in group following close behind. "Fowler thinks he found it. Burn the lamps; I need some more light up here."

After a moment, a lit kerosene lamp was handed to George and he relaxed a little, able to see the forest floor beneath him. He was about to call out to Robbie again when his friend let out a long, low whistle just ahead of them.

"Ho-ly shit," Robbie declared as George and Helena came up behind him. George's eyes widened and Helena loosened her grip on his fingers to bring her hands up to her face in shock.

"It's beautiful!" she squeaked, her tiny frame bouncing up and down. George lifted the lamp and it illuminated her strawberry blonde curls as they bobbed to and fro against her shoulders. A second later, she sprinted forward, making haste towards their discovery. The rest of the group arrived at the clearing and there, in the center of the small incline, was a wooden, makeshift theater.

"We probably could've made it sooner if Georgie had just given me the map to begin with," Robbie complained as he walked slowly towards the stage. George scowled again but his face quickly softened when he saw his Helena climb on the stage and begin to twirl around, her arms flailing as she spun. The sun peeked in through the trees enough to shine a lone ray upon her and his heart thumped a little faster. He truly loved Helena Rostenkowski, his first real girlfriend. Someday, he would make her his wife.

He shifted uncomfortably as memories of the last couple of months touring the country haunted him. He had made a mistake when they stopped in Houston about six weeks ago. Helena had not come with them on tour during summer vacation because her parents were extremely strict (and did not approve of George Cooper), and the nights got lonely. He had a one night stand with some local named Mary (who was also from a religious background and had ashamedly reminded George of Helena) and after weeks of her showing up to their gigs and basically stalking him, she had finally pulled out her last stop and said she was pregnant.

George could not, would not believe her. He packed up the group and they were gone by sun rise. He was only 18 years-old. Even if Mary was telling the truth, what good could he be to some baby? A wayward scamp, high school dropout chasing his dreams of becoming a famous Hollywood actor someday? He did the right thing by departing Texas and not leaving a trace.

The only soul he confided in about his mistake was Robbie, who was currently watching Helena with a slightly awed expression as she continued to twirl on the stage, humming loudly to herself a tune that George did not recognize. She was always doing that, humming loudly, a honeybee buzzing about. Yes, someday Helena would be his wife. He left Houston and Mary and her lies behind where Helena could never find them.

He knew that Robbie would keep his secret. George turned to study his best friend and his eyebrows furrowed together as the intensity in Robbie's stare trained on Helena grew deeper.

"George!" she suddenly yelled, grabbing his attention. "This place is yours!"

His wide, blue eyes blinked in astonishment as Helena's words sunk in. This map had led him to what he had previously not known had been left for him. Along with the mansion that he inherited when his parents died, this theater did belong to him now.

"I think you mean all of ours," Robbie chimed in, winking at George. "We like to share, right, Georgie?" Then he looked forward again, staring hungrily at Helena's form as she danced and hummed louder.

"Sure, Rob," George finally said, staring at Robbie until his vision began to blur. He joined his fists behind his back and rested them on the base of his spine, looking down his nose at his shorter friend. "Ours."

"I know who you are, Amy."

Less true words had never been spoken. No one really knew Amy. No one but Robbie Fowler.

As he spoke, Amy's brain stumbled against her skull like a drunkard feeling his way along a wall. Sheldon's voice had taken on a bubbling effect, like she was halfway submerged, her face afloat but her ears surrounded by murky water. She blinked a few times and snatched her hand back from under his, yanking it to her chest. Then she blinked again.

Amy thought she should be upset, but she realized she felt very little. Maybe it was on account of the medication; perhaps it reigned in her emotions. Or maybe she was just stunned stupid for believing that he had been honest with her. Of course he knew who she was. The question now was: what did he really want from her?

"Amy," he whispered, pulling her above water. She flitted her eyes nervously towards him and recoiled when he leaned in closer to her, scooting his chair in her direction. "Amy, listen. Let me explain."

"There's a reason," she began as her bottom lip trembled. She lowered her eyes to the table as she laid her hands flat on the surface. "There's a reason I didn't…tell you who I was. I didn't want you to know. But now you do know. And I can't look at you."

"Knowing your past doesn't change anything, Amy—"

"It changes everything," she promised. He reached forward to try and take her hand again when Amy shouted, "Don't!" Sheldon flinched and sat back in his chair. A moment later, Shakespeare came hurtling into the kitchen and sat by Amy's legs, nudging her thigh with his wet nose. She was quiet for a moment, allowing the gentle touch of her dog to calm her while she lowered her injured hand to pet his head carefully.

"Have you always known?" she asked suddenly, still avoiding his cobalt eyes that she could feel burning holes into her head.

"No," he said forcefully. "I truly didn't. But when we found that map in your room, I …I had to do some research on you. You wouldn't tell me anything about you—"

"There was a reason," Amy reminded him through gritted teeth.

"I know that now," Sheldon breathed. He dared to lean in again and Amy finally met his stare, eager to see if he was being honest with her. Her stomach fluttered when she remembered the map. Had Sheldon put it there?

"And I'm sorry, Amy," he continued. "I know it was a violation of your privacy, but I was intrigued as to why you had the map. Why you lived in this house. Why our lives seemed to collide out of nowhere after 30 years of being alive." He paused and reached his hand out again, letting it hover over hers instead of touching her. "This doesn't change how I feel about you."

"I don't believe you." Amy jumped up from her seat so fast that the heavy back of the wooden chair toppled over and clattered to the floor, startling Shakespeare and he yelped at Sheldon, daring him to get closer as Amy began to pace. "If you know me, if you know about my past, you would leave. You would drive away and never look back."

It's what I would do, she thought to herself as tears formed at the brim of her eyelids, splashing against her eyelashes every time she blinked. Her hands trembled in front of her as she wrung them together, wincing as her wound became irritated. Emotions finally began to seep in and the strongest of them all was humiliation. She wanted her father to shield her from this reality like he always had before, a reality where she was so exposed, like a gutted fish.

"No," Sheldon said firmly, talking loudly over Shakespeare's growls. He looked down and swallowed hard, stepping closer to Amy and still giving the guard dog a wide girth. "I'm not leaving you. That's why I brought this box. When I realized your father was my father's best friend, I had to bring it to you." He pointed his chin in the direction of the box he had brought to the table and pulled out the identical picture of their fathers. "There are items in there you have to see. Something is happening, there's a reason why we were brought together, I know it. And I intend to see it through."

"I'm not well, Sheldon," Amy's voice broke as she paced away from him. "I didn't want you to know." She faced the living room, her back turned to him, her thoughts flooring her. "I don't want you to know that I'm crazy." It was extremely quiet for moments and she had hoped he was taking the opportunity to leave when suddenly she felt the air around her change.

She closed her eyes as his large hands wrapped slowly around her shoulders. They were now sharing air, his breath evenly flowing near her ear as he stood behind her, pressing his body to hers. She felt her knees quiver and she sighed, a tear falling down her cheek. "I'm not well."

"I don't care," he declared in a low voice from behind her. She unconsciously sunk into him, her shoulder blades resting on his chest. The night in the barn abruptly came to her, when Sheldon held her from behind as he helped her pet his horse.

"Sheldon," she protested, shaking her head. Amy was not strong enough for this. She was ashamed of herself, her past. She was an adult orphan in a large house and it was a daily battle not to burn it to the ground while she stood inside. She had nothing to offer Sheldon. Amy realized, though, that even after just a week of knowing him, she could not imagine what life would be like without his touch. But she had to try. Her heartbeat sped up as Penelope's haunting promise rang loudly in her ears.

It doesn't last.

"Just go," she pleaded. She waited for him to release her, but he never did.

"You're mine," Sheldon groaned in her ear. "And I'm not giving you up." To seal his promise, he nudged her head to the side with his chin and brought one hand up to move her dark strands of hair from her shoulder. Then he rubbed his chin against the exposed skin before planting a moist kiss there. His stubble scraped her neck and it felt electric, jolting her from the core to every nerve ending. His breathing sped up as she pressed herself against him, and she felt the tiniest of twitches on her lower back as he responded to her touch. She moaned as he spoke again, leaving a trail of his breath and kisses along her shoulder. "Amy, please believe me. I don't care about your past."

She let him lower his hands to her waist then dip down until his fingers met on her pelvic bone. He pressed his fingers against her still sensitive center and she spread her legs on impulse. Before he could touch her further, he spun her around to meet his eyes. Blinking back more tears, Amy let herself look up at his face. It was time to be honest with him.

"I'm a pyromaniac."

He responded by pressing a kiss on the pulse on her neck.

"I heard voices for years that told me to harm myself."

Another kiss, this time on her chin, dangerously close to her bottom lip.

"I have hallucinations." She looked around Sheldon's shoulder as a flash of red turning the corner caught her eye. A billowing train of a dress behind her dog who was watching the couple carefully, ready to attack if need be. Of course she would appear at this moment.

"I'm having one right now."

"Look at me," he finally said, and she did. "Keep your eyes on me. I am what is real."

Her heart raced and the heat from his soft body confirmed that he indeed was very real. And instead of waiting for him to kiss her, Amy reached up on her tip toes and brought her lips to Sheldon's, her eyes open the entire time to watch him, just like he told her to.

Penelope watched from the dark as Sheldon wrapped his arms around Amy tighter.

He had helped her up to sit on the counter near the stove. The air was thick with their heavy breathing after they finally broke their kiss long enough to come up for a lungful. The staccato of fresh rain drops falling outside popped against the tin pipes just outside of the kitchen window. Penelope had long since left.

Amy's knees spread open and Sheldon stood in front of her, between them. He kept his hands on her thighs and his eyes on hers.

"Don't send me away," he said, his lips pink and swollen.

"I thought I could," she admitted, bringing a hand up to brush a stray lock of his hair off of his forehead. "I meant what I said, Sheldon. I'm not well. I'm on medication, but I have my days. It's been this way since I could remember."

"Your life must not have been easy," he said carefully. "To live such a high profile life in such a fragile state. I don't think I could have handled it. You're a lot stronger than you think you are, Amy Farrah Fowler." He leaned closer to her, tightening his grip on her thighs. In response to the stimuli, her head dropped back and she exposed her neck to him, which he quickly took advantage of. He nipped the slope of her throat and gave a plush kiss on the same spot.

She pulled her hands up and placed them on his shoulders, pushing him away just enough to bring her head back down and meet his eyes. "What's in the box you brought?" She giggled when Sheldon pushed hard against her hands, trying to kiss her again, but she resisted. "Seriously. You said I had to see it."

"Right," he relented with a sigh. "Come on." He held his hand out to her and helped her off of the counter before leading her back to the table. They sat down and Shakespeare joined them, sitting at Amy's feet to create a barrier between the two humans. His large eyes were steadily watching Sheldon as he began to extract items from his box to show Amy.

"When I realized you were Robbie's daughter, I went through this box that was stashed away. I had opened it once before, and in it was my map." He unrolled a coiled piece of parchment and pushed it in front of Amy. She gave it a once over, the tattered edges giving it a much older, antique appearance than hers. She put it to the side and gave Sheldon a nod, urging him to continue. "Also in this box were pictures I had been through before, but never gave much thought to. I always thought that the man in this picture looked familiar, but Robbie was very young in these pictures, no older than 18 years old. It was hard to recognize him from all the movies I've seen him in."

Amy gasped as Sheldon handed her handfuls of photographs that were of her father as well as Sheldon's, and other young kids. There were some of him in costume, and some of him on the makeshift stage in the middle of the woods. He looked so young and carefree, primeval. She had never seen Robbie look so happy. Raising her must have blown the light right out of him. She looked up after awhile and saw Sheldon studying her.

"So do you think…do you think my father owned the theater, just like your father?"

"I do," Sheldon said with a small nod. "Then again, I didn't know much about my father up until I got the phone call from his lawyers stating that his property was now mine. Anything I currently know about him, including the fact that he and Robbie were best of friends, was because of this woman, right here." He pushed his fingers on one photo and slid it across the table top to Amy. In the picture was George Cooper, a dashing photo copy of Sheldon. He had his long arm wrapped around a significantly shorter, petite woman with light brown curls and a beautiful, porcelain complexion. Her dainty nose sat charmingly above her wide, coy, familiar smile.

"Is that…" Amy started, unsure if she should say it. Could it be?

"Yes," Sheldon confirmed. "That's Helena Rostenkowski. My father's high school sweetheart and Bernadette's mother."

"Wow." Amy was appropriately shocked. It seemed as though almost all of the performers in Sheldon's company were related to generations before, and he was right; it did prove even more so that Amy did belong here. But how? Another thought sprung to mind as she looked up at Sheldon quickly. "Does that mean that Bernadette is your…half-sister?"

"No," he said curtly. "Bernadette has been adamant that her mother and my father had broken up before she was born. Though she has never met her real father, Bernie says she knows who he is, and it's not George. But Helena always loved my dad, until the day she died. Bernadette was kind enough to fill in some holes about his past to me when I first moved here, since I had absolutely no knowledge of George Cooper.

"As far as I was concerned, he was the asshole who knocked my mother up and left. But Helena had nothing but nice things to say about him, and so Bernadette made sure I only knew the good things." He looked down at his hands for a moment. "I always felt like there was a hole inside of me for never knowing my father, no matter how angry I was with him for leaving my mom behind like a used toy. But hearing the good things from Bernie kind of softened the blow." He paused for a moment and looked up shyly at Amy. "Would it be rude of me to assume that you can relate?"

"Not at all," Amy assured him, knowing exactly what he meant. Amy had always felt left of center, off-kilter, and she was insightful enough to know that it wasn't just her mental illness but the fact that she had no mother growing up. She still remembered the day she left the institution after hearing her mother's voice on the television for the first time and how painful the ridges of the hole in her body were at the sounds. "I thought it was silly, but I guess I always missed my mother, even though I had never known her."

They sat together among the photos of ghosts in their pasts, two lonely orphans in their late twenties and early thirties, as the rain fell outside. Amy sighed quietly and looked away from Sheldon for a moment when she saw her.

"Isn't this sweet?" Penelope asked in a mocking tone. Her nails tapped rhythmically against the wooden table top as she watched Amy and Sheldon. "The two love birds kissed and made up."

Amy's breathing sped up as she watched Penelope from her peripheral. Her eyes were trained on Sheldon who was still looking down at the photos, his brows furrowed as though he was trying to make sense of their connections. He was oblivious to her presence.

"Sh…Sheldon?" Amy asked, her voice shaking.

"Yes?" he answered, his head snapping up to look at her. He could sense the panic in her tone. "What's wrong?"

"He can't see me, stupid girl," Penelope spat. "You're the only crazy one here."

"It's time for my medicine," Amy declared, pointedly ignoring Penelope's comment. "I will be right back."

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice unsure. "I can come with you."

"No," she said quickly. She rose from the table and watched, still through her peripheral, as Penelope rose, too. "I'll be right back. Could you…could you take Shakes outside really quick? He should relieve himself before the rain gets worse."

"Sure." Sheldon got up and followed Amy to the foyer where they parted, her up the stairs while he called Shakespeare to go outside. She felt him watching her as she advanced up the steps but refused to look back.

When she was finally in her bathroom, she shut the door behind her and locked it. When she turned around and flipped on the light, Penelope was sitting on the edge of the tub, smiling widely. Amy walked calmly to her mirror and opened the door, reaching for her meds.

"I asked you if I should take my medication again," Amy said softly, not worried about Penelope being able to hear her. "That morning in my bed. I asked you, and you hesitated. Then you said, 'Not unless you want to wake up'."

Penelope was quiet as Amy placed the pills in her mouth and cupped her hand under the running water, bringing the liquid to her lips. She swallowed and shut off the faucet.

"What did you mean by 'wake up'?" she spoke again.

"You should have sent Sheldon away," Penelope ignored her question. "He is not who he appears to be. Stop thinking with your body. He only wants something from you, and it's not what is between your legs, although, he'll get use out of that, too." They were both quiet as the thunder shook the house. "You were born to be alone, Amy. Don't fight it."

"Am I awake, Penelope?" It was Amy's turn to ignore her comment. She braced herself against the sink before she whirled around and met Penelope's blazing green eyes. "Are you awake?"

And with that, Penelope disappeared.

Amy ran out of her bathroom and took the steps down two at a time. She met Sheldon on her front porch just as he was calling Shakespeare to come inside. Over the roar of the rain, she shouted to him.

"Sheldon!"

"What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes widened with concern.

"You need to call Penelope. I think something might be wrong with her."

"I'm sorry about today, bud," Howard spoke through the phone. Rajesh nodded even though he couldn't see him and took a swig from his glass of whiskey. "I didn't know Sheldon and Amy were a thing. If I did, I never would've encouraged you to ask her out."

"It's quite alright," Raj assured his best friend. He sat behind his large desk at his home office, the sound of the rain and the ice swirling around in the liquor in his glass keeping him company. Raj had confided in Howard about his crush on Amy since the first night he saw her, and after much convincing, he had finally gotten the courage to let her know his interest at her house today. But he had been humiliated in defeat, by Sheldon Cooper, no less. He had always admired him from afar, thought of him as a treasured acquaintance, but was always told by his closest friends, including Howard, that he was not a man to be trusted. A young guy with all that money, living in a gigantic mansion with part-time help. What was he hiding?

"Anyway, I'd better let you go. I'll see you tomorrow for performances?"

"Sure, see you then." They hung up and Raj sighed loudly, leaning back in his leather chair as he stared at the flames popping in the fireplace near him.

As an accomplished lawyer with a healthy respect as well as knowledge for the law, Raj was appropriately concerned about went on behind closed doors at the Coliseum. But he was grateful to Sheldon for welcoming him into the acting company and providing a cathartic experience for him and his sister Priya at the theater so he never pushed it. Without the theater, Raj would never have met his dearest friends or had a social life outside of work. Actually, he suddenly realized, his booming social life was not on account of Sheldon. It was because of his best friend Howard Wolowitz that Raj was even able to speak to women.

Sure, at first, he thought hypnotism was pure hokum. Until it worked on him. He could still vaguely remember that night, even though he was trashed from all of the champagne, walking into that dark room and sitting in a chair as Howard stood in front of him and waved a golden watch back and forth, back and forth, until Raj was no longer in control of his own body or mind.

He thought hypnosis was the act of sleeping, but he had never felt more awake in his life. His senses had heightened and he had become aware of all of his faults and strengths. Howard talked him through every motion, assuring him that he had unlocked the hidden cove within his mind that would allow him to speak to women without inhibition ever again.

"Say it," Howard's voice had commanded him, and although Raj could not remember Howard telling him what to say, it was like their minds were one, melded so closely that he already knew what to say anyhow.

"I will never be afraid to speak to women again."

When it was all said and done, Howard had explained that he was now free of the crippling fear that kept him from fully experiencing life as it was meant to be lived. But there was one catch.

"There's a password, that only I know," Howard had explained. "It's a control. If I ever say it in your presence, you will clam up again. Sorry, buddy. It's how hypnosis works."

Raj wasn't worried though. Why would Howard ever need to shut him up?

"Amy, I'm sure she's fine."

"But she's not answering her phone."

Sheldon sighed and slipped his phone back into his pocket. "I don't know why she's not answering. Maybe she's busy."

Amy was not convinced. She paced around the living room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "She looked at me…when I asked her…she was afraid."

"What?"

She stopped pacing long enough to turn and give a pleading look in Sheldon's direction. "Sheldon, when I told you I was having hallucinations, I meant it. I've been having very specific kinds of visions that started when I stopped taking my meds. But even though I've begun to take them again, they're still coming to me."

"I don't understand," Sheldon said, licking his lips. "What does this have to do with Penelope?"

Amy held her breath for a moment before exhaling loudly. "My visions are of Penelope. She comes to me." She waited for Sheldon to give her a look of confusion, any sign that he had resigned and would bid her a good night. But none came. Instead, he fixed his hands on his hips and glared at Amy angrily. She cringed, afraid that she had upset him further than she realized.

"God damnit," he muttered and yanked his phone out of his pocket again. He redialed Penelope's number and cursed under his breath when it went straight to voicemail. He stuffed the phone back in his jeans and crossed his arms, focusing on a far away spot on the ceiling.

"If you want to go, I understand," Amy said quietly, sadness staining her tone.

"God, no, Amy," Sheldon breathed, his demeanor thawing out as he shuffled across the living room to meet her. "No, it's not you. I promise. It's just…"

"What?" she demanded, watching his face as he worried his bottom lip with his top two teeth.

"Penelope," he finally answered. "That night on the porch, she was trying to tell me something. And I thought it was just her being petty out of jealousy for you."

Amy blanched slightly. What could Penelope have said?

Sensing her apprehension, Sheldon touched her face lightly, then let his hand fall. "She told me that you were only acting interested in me for my money. That you knew who I was and you were going to use me."

"Sheldon," she protested, feeling sick to her stomach. "I had no idea who you were. I literally stumbled upon you." And I've got my own damn money, she thought angrily to herself.

"No, I know that," Sheldon assured her with conviction. He took a step closer to her. "I didn't believe her, of course. But as her behavior became more insistent that I send you away, it angered me. And I stopped listening to her nonsense." He looked around the living room, his blue eyes darkening as he swept the empty space. "And now she is showing up in your hallucinations?"

Amy was still trying to process his words. "Did you say she told you to 'send me away'?"

"Yes," he said with a tight nod.

She felt a chill roll through her body as she remembered not even ten minutes ago in the bathroom when Penelope had told her the same thing.

"You should have sent Sheldon away."

"Sheldon, are you all performing tomorrow? In the woods?"

"Yes," he answered quickly. "The weather is supposed to clear up. Penelope should be there, she never misses a performance. We'll clear all of this up with her tomorrow."

"But what if she doesn't show up?" Amy asked.

They stood in silence, watching each other carefully. The rain continued to fall outside.

So tired.

Back and forth

So very tired.

It swings

"You're almost there."

Until it stops

The flicker of gold disappeared and surfaced, over and over again, never staying in one place.

Back and forth

"Open your eyes."

The scene changed. She was no longer herself. Her body belonged to someone else.