Delirium (takes place concurrent with The Hobbit)

"All this seismic activity today? The Geology department thinks it's either an earthquake swarm or even foreshocks. You know, before the big one. The Pres is encouraging everyone to go home and shelter in place," Kripke said.

They agreed the experiment was success. Amy and her colleague were discussing the results, pleased that it took less time than expected when both of their phoned chimed at the same time.

After reading the email from President Siebert, Dr. O'Brian said, "It's good thing we finished early, then. We'd better leave and discuss this tomorrow. Hopefully. Are you parked far away? Do you need a ride to your car? I'm close."

"No, thank you," Amy answered. "I have to walk over to Downs, to get my husband."

"Are you sure you don't want a ride there?"

"No, it's not that far. It will probably take as long to drive around campus as it will to walk straight there. But thank you."

"Alright. Be safe." Dr. O'Brian left, his large hulking form practically filling the doorway.

Amy took one last lap around the lab, making sure all was in order before taking off her her lap coat and gathering her things. She walked into the hallway and looked both ways. The building really was empty. All of the text alerts from the Geology department about earthquake swarms and foreshocks had frightened everyone away. Just then, the ground rumbled again. Yes, I definitely need to get Sheldon and go home. She was surprised he hadn't already called or texted her; surely he was terrified. Although, if he was deep in thought, he might not even notice.

As she had never used this lab before, Amy was uncertain of the most direct route. She debated which way to turn, and decided on turning right. The hallway stopped in a T. Frowning, she turned left as she saw a doorway at the end of the hall. Exiting the door, she realized it was the wrong one. She walked back into the building and went down the opposite direction. The hallway turned but then there was another door. Stepping outside, she thought this was wrong too, but wasn't as sure. She thought the exit she wanted had stairs. This exit had only one step down to the sidewalk. But she walked about slightly, standing next to a bench, and looking back at the building. This is taking forever! I need to go get Sheldon.

She took out her phone, planning on texting him, when it happened. The violent shaking startled her and she dropped her phone. On instinct she reached down to pick it up, but then she jerked forward instead. She felt a sharp pain in her temporal lobe as it struck the corner of the bench and then nothing else.

There was a voice, someone talking, saying he was happy he'd come back to look for her. It was the wrong voice. She wanted to sleep, but she needed to find the right voice.

Why am I allowing him to buy me a beverage? Why is he offering to buy me a beverage? Normally my well-rehearsed line about coitus being off the table has the man running away by now. Did he just look over at me? Should I look over at him?

She thought she was being carried. Or maybe she walking and being held upright and pulled by a set of arms at the same time. Whatever it was, it was surreal and difficult and uncomfortable. She thought she might vomit from the motion. It was the wrong set of arms, the wrong set of hands. She wanted to sleep, but she needed to find the right set of hands first.

I did not think I would feel this different. Why does the act of him putting a simple ring on my finger made me feel so different? I wish my hands would stop shaking, it is making it difficult to put on his ring. He has such lovely hands. They are now my hands, too.

She heard sirens and some sort of blaring announcement. The same voice, the first voice, was talking to her constantly, but she did not understand it. It was the wrong voice. She desperately wanted to sleep, but she needed to find the right voice.

Did he just use the word vixen? Vixen! What does that mean? Am I vixen? I like being a vixen. I like it when he calls me a vixen. I do not think I would like it if anyone else called me that.

There was some noise, some shuffling. She was being laid down. She was so very, very tired. She still thought she might vomit. It was the wrong mattress. She wanted to sleep, but she could only sleep if the right person was there.

I know, I remember, he will be there when I open my eyes. He loves me and he will be there. Oh, he is! Even knowing it did not lessen the feeling! He is so sound asleep. Look at those tufts of hair. Look at his eyelashes. I am besotted. And he is besotted with me! I still cannot believe this, even seeing it now, in the morning light, that he is here in my bed.

She heard a new voice, a voice she also knew. Her face felt wet, the hands connected to the voice were washing her face. Everything looked like a dream. She saw red, red on gauze. It was the wrong color. She wanted to sleep, but she needed to see the right color first.

Did that really just happen? Did he really just kiss me? His eyes, his eyes are so blue. What is that look he is giving me? What does it mean? I will die of happiness from that look. His eyes are so blue. They have never been more blue.

This voice is soothing and familiar, but it is still the wrong voice. She was in a different place, some sort of small room. Like a doctor's office, but not. It was the wrong room. She wanted to sleep, but she needed the right person with her.

I cannot concentrate. I must concentrate. I must remember every detail of this. It feels like three heartbeats. Yes, that is it. The first is the one I've known my entire life, although it is beating exceptionally fast. The second is the one I've longed for, deep inside of me. It feels full and strange, although it is getting better. The third is completely unexpected, whispering in my ear. It is the most beautiful, soft and sincere. I must remember every word. Why is my cheek wet where it touches his? Am I crying? Or is he crying? I do not care. I want to hold him closer. Now there is only one heartbeat. It is ours.

At last, she heard nothing. She was so very tired. She has never been more tired. No, once, she remembered, she was this tired. It was a different sort of tired. But she wanted to hear the same thing. She could not sleep until she heard it, no matter how very, very tired she was.

I don't know why I agreed to dance with him. I don't know why I thought I would have the strength. I cannot do this. I cannot continue to break my heart daily, even for him. I thought, for a while, that kisses were enough. They are not. He is quoting Jane Eyre. I shouldn't accept it. I want to accept it. I want it to be enough. It is not enough. I need his love. I need him to tell me. I need to hear his voice. I need to hear his voice.

She heard his voice. But it was anguished. It was killing her. She felt his hands, but they were trembling and one was strangely sticky. They were killing her. He was sobbing. She wanted to reach out to him, to hold him, to tell him that she was here, that everything would be okay. She could not sleep until he knew.

I cannot figure out what I am doing wrong. I want to reach out to him, to hold him, to tell him that I am here, that everything will be okay if he will only let me help. But he will not let me. He is closing in on himself. I can't seem to reach him. I don't know what to do. This is killing me.

She forced her eyes open. He was talking now, sounding more like himself, but he was not talking to her. He was talking to . . . someone else she knew. But it was like not the conversations they normally had. He was drinking water. He smelled strongly of sweat. That was not his normal smell. Everything was strange, everything was different, everything was wrong.

"Amy?" It was his voice, it was his heartbeat, they were his hands, they were his blue eyes, any room with him was the right room.

She gathered all her strength, she dug down deep inside herself, she forced the word out, the only word that mattered to her. "Sheldon."

She didn't want to stop looking at him, but her eyes closed without her consent. She was so very tired. All she was wanted to do was sleep. But she could not, not just yet.

"I love you, Amy."

It was all she needed. Everything was strange, but everything would be alright. She feel asleep to the lullaby that was his voice.

AN: Obviously, this was trip down memory lane, both from the show and also from my stories (The Oxygen Deprivation Exploration & The Exhalation Combustion Investigation). Thank you in advance for your reviews!