"Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts."

Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

There's a lump in his throat, he has trouble breathing and his eyes are burning. Even in the middle of all the pain and the humiliation, Sheldon realizes he hasn't cried for a few years, now, and it kind of feels weird. He's no stranger to tears, because he's shed his fair share of them as a child beaten up by school bullies, but when he left for university, he made a point of never let others get the better of him again. He's brilliant, and he doesn't need anyone's validation, and there is no point in crying over other people. That's what he's been telling himself for over two decades, and even his father's death couldn't bring tears out of him.

But he finds himself on the verge of crying, right now, as his demise is brought by the very thing he uses as a shield, and somehow, it's even worse this way, because if Sheldon takes pride in his superior intellect, it's mostly because he needs it to feel like his life is worth living. Without the knowledge that he's much more intelligent than most people can handle, he loses a lot of things he came to take for granted; this is why discovering that Kripke's better than him hurts more than anything else. This realization shook him to the foundations of the person he is, and now he's as lost as the day Pop-Pop passed away.

When Amy realizes something is off and asks him what's going on… Sheldon can't contain himself any longer. She knows him better than anyone else, and there is no point in hiding his failures from her. She's probably the only person in the world who will not mock him when she learns about his fall from grace, so he whimpers and confesses through the tears.

And just like he knew she would, she doesn't belittle him. She just offers a hug, and it's the weirdest sensation Sheldon's ever felt, because it's tight and suffocating but somehow, it's also wonderful and comforting. And as he watches the tears fall from his eyes onto her blue jumper, Sheldon knows that as long as Amy's here, things will eventually be alright. Because he's found someone to love him unconditionally, and as much as it scares him sometimes, he knows that it means that with her at least, he can be himself. And if "himself" has to mean "vulnerable", then so be it.

ooo

"Don't let go of my hand," she whispers, and Sheldon won't, because in the midst of all this chaos, the feel of her warm, small fingers laced with his is the only real thing in the world.

"Are you ready?" she asks, and Sheldon isn't, because no one ever is ready for this type of things, but it has to be done, right? He asks if she's sure that no one's in here, and Amy whispers that she made sure that he would be alone and that everyone else is downstairs in the kitchen. Her answer is all it takes and, gulping, he pushes the door to his mother's room open.

She's lying on her bed, her eyes closed and looking so peaceful it's like she's asleep and having a wonderful dream. Sheldon's wonderful dreams are filled with trains and Star Trek characters and his mom's pecan pies and Amy's eyes, and for a fleeting second, he wonders what are his mom's wonderful dreams made of. Does she ever dream of him? Is he a child building a death ray, or is he an old man finally winning a Nobel Prize?

But then reality comes crashing down, and his mother isn't asleep. His mother is dead and she'll never dream of him again, and he knows that even though it's been less than a day, insects are already doing their job of turning her into dirt and soon there will be nothing left of her but memories. And it's not fair. It's not fair because for all her faults, Mary Cooper was an amazing woman who brought so much to his life that Sheldon's not even sure how to thank her. And just standing here watching her lifeless form and knowing she'll never get up from this bed to hug him and tell him she loves him is more than he can handle.

He starts crying, the first tears he's shed in the past two years, tears that are running down his cheeks and dying on the edge of his jaw, and he kind of wishes he could drown in these tears because it's probably the less painful option for him right now. But Sheldon knows everything he needs to know about the human body, and he knows that he's not going to die in this room and on this evening.

And when Amy squeezes his hand even tighter and rests her head against his shoulder, he knows; he knows that he'll make it through, because such is life, and because he's not alone. Not anymore. It used to be Mary's job to make sure Sheldon would always be happy, but Amy's been replacing her at it for a while now. Sheldon knows that she'll fix him without even trying, just like she always does, and even though it's not enough right now as he's looking as his mother's pale face, he knows that eventually, it will be.

ooo

His heart is beating so fast it feels like he is going to burst out of his ribcage and his lungs seem so heavy he wonders how he can even be still breathing. It's both the worst and the best sensation he's ever experienced, and as he watches Amy beneath him, her eyes closed, her pink mouth slightly open, and her face painted in pleasure and desire, he doesn't know if he wants to stay here between her legs forever or if he really needs to move away from her as quickly as possible.

The thing about coitus is… Sheldon's terrified, that's what. He's terrified because he can't help wondering if he just changed the chore of who he is as a human being and can never be the same again. What if finally giving in to his baser urges just made him weak and worthless? What if even if never has coitus ever again, this first and unique time is enough to ruin everything he is and stands for? What if he can never look at himself in a mirror ever again, for all he would see here would be his judging reflection?

Sheldon is conflicted and even more because… he wanted this. That's the worst part of it all. He'd like to be able to say that he simply agreed to have intercourse with Amy because she wanted it and he felt like he owed her, but this is definitely not true. Although Amy's wanted it for longer than he has, Sheldon cannot deny that, six years into their relationship, he found himself more and more drawn to Amy and her soft skin and her rosy lips and her beautiful eyes.

She's the woman he loves. It's taken him some time – probably far too much – for him to acknowledge it, but she's the woman he loves and he wants to experience everything with her. And that also means coitus, and being right here in the middle of her sheets, buried deep within her shivering body, moving in time with her unsure thrusts, it feels so right that somehow, it turns into being too wrong.

And suddenly, it's all too… overwhelming, that's what it is, and a tears falls from his eyes before he even has the time to realize it, and it lands on Amy's cheek, and her eyes fly open so fast it's destabilizing, a bit.

"Sheldon?" she asks, and her voice is shaking, not unlike what he imagines his would be if he were to speak right now.

She stops moving and somehow it's even worse, because now Sheldon doesn't really know why he's still here between her legs, but when he goes to withdraw from her, she puts her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly to her chest, and Sheldon breaks down and sobs and weeps into the crook of her neck. He stays here for what feels like hours but is probably only a couple of minutes, his tears mingling to Amy's sweat, and the realization that it's the most natural thing in the world kind of hits him so hard it's nearly enough to make him cry again – tears of relief, this time.

"Sheldon?" Amy asks again, and Sheldon doesn't answer right away. He simply kisses her neck one, two, three times, and then he murmurs. "I'm sorry."

"Don't…" she starts, but he cuts her right there.

"I love you, Amy," he says, "I love you so much," and then he starts moving again. They reach climax together soon after that, and Amy's sheets are covered in blood and tears and sweat and semen, but miraculously, Sheldon doesn't even mind.

ooo

"Are you ready?" Leonard asks, and Sheldon… Sheldon guesses he kind of is, yes. He's been waiting for this day for weeks, now, and it's about to happen, finally, finally, and he's ready because he had time to prepare, but he also isn't, because it's scary, it really is.

"How did you not explode from anxiety when it was your turn?" Sheldon asks, and Leonard smiles.

"Because even if it seemed mental, it also seemed like the most natural thing in the world," and Sheldon smiles too, because it's exactly how he's feeling.

He casts one last look at his reflection in the mirror, and he really does cut quite the dashing figure. He looks just like the Flash who's about to get married, and, well, he's not really the Flash, but somewhere on the road, there's a car coming towards here, a car in which his bride is sitting.

Sheldon wonders how Amy's feeling. Is she scared? Is she excited? Is she just very happy? She probably is, because they're the same, she and him, and if he's feeling these emotions all at once, then he knows she is, too.

"I'm proud of you, Sheldon," Leonard says, and then Sheldon's best man is gone from the room before he even has the chance to answer, probably so he can stand at the end of the aisle Amy's going to walk down in less than thirty minutes. A wedding in a church even though none of them believes, because that's what his mother would have wanted. And it doesn't even bother him. What matters the most he's that today, Amy is becoming his wife. The place they marry in is irrelevant.

Sheldon exhales profoundly before following Leonard into the main room of the church, his heart beating fast and his steps light and joyful. He can feel his eyes burning, but he doesn't mind, because they're happy tears, and if he's learnt something since that day he cried into her arms because of Kripke, all these years before, it's that there is no shame in being emotional. He doesn't care that people see him cry, for today, they don't matter.

And if she sees him cry… well, it's Amy. It's not like she doesn't know him.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Any commentary you may want to do on this piece is greatly appreciated. :)