A/N:
I promise I haven't abandoned this story. I'm so sorry it's taken me this long to post an update. If you've read some of my earlier work, you may know that I tend to write as I go along, which usually means slow updates. Finding the time and the motivation to write has been incredibly difficult lately, but I finally managed it. I fully intend to finish "The Caged Bird Hypothesis" from beginning to end. It just might take a while. This was going to span across the hiatus, but it will lapse into Season 9. Please disregard the events that will occur on the actual show (if you've read the taping reports, then you know what I'm talking about).
Anyway, I hope you enjoy Chapter 2. I apologize for the lack of Sheldon in this particular chapter, but he will come up later on. The spotlight will mostly be on Amy from here on out. There may be some typos or errors here and there. I got tired of reading the same lines over and over again while editing during the wee hours of the morning.
Thank you so much to all of the people who have read this story and left reviews. You guys are awesome.
Disclaimer:
If I owned The Big Bang Theory, I'd be the happiest person alive. Alas, that is not true. It's all Bill Prady's , Chuck Lorre's, and CBS's property.
The Caged Bird Hypothesis
Chapter 2: Mirroring Emeralds
"Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands." –Anne Frank
May 22, 2015
Looking up, Amy swallowed thickly.
In front of her stood her mother's Victorian home, in all of its ancient, beautiful glory. With its thick outer walls covered in ivy and painted in a deep maroon with white trim, antique interior design complete with ornate furniture and overall old-fashioned ambiance, it never ceased to make Amy feel like she was living in the nineteenth century.
Its presence used to be a source of comfort.
But now, as she remembered why she was there, the feeling of safety quickly vanished and was replaced with a hollow type of sorrow.
With a shuddering breath, she wheeled her suitcase in one hand and her carry-on with the other. When she reached the front door, her hand grabbed the brass knocker. She tapped it loudly against the door. The sound of shuffling feet from the other side notified her that her mother was indeed home.
The door clicked open to reveal a petite woman in a long khaki skirt and navy blue sweater. Her light brown hair, tinged with a bit of gray, neatly brushed against her shoulders. Gentle brown eyes stared back at Amy behind a pair of black round glasses that perched on the bridge of woman's nose.
"Amelia," Maria Fowler said quietly.
"Mother," Amy greeted. "I hope you were expecting me. I did call."
"Yes, dear. I recall that conversation. Come in."
As soon as Amy crossed the threshold, she gazed around her.
Everything was just like she had remembered it. Nothing had been added or removed; not a piece of furniture was out of place. Her mother was never a person who liked to change things once she had solidified in her mind that was how she wanted it.
Amy had to bite her lip to keep from snorting. It sounded like someone she knew.
"I was just about to have tea. Care to you join me once you to settle in?" Amy's mother asked, gesturing to Amy's bags. "I assume you would like to place your belongings in your bedroom. And before you ask, it is just how you left it. The only thing that I did was maintenance in the lab for you."
Amy nodded. "I would love some tea. Thank you."
As she maneuvered her bags in the direction of her room, Amy had to suppress the urge to cringe. Having just spoken with her mother and feeling the waves of awkwardness that passed between them, she now understood why she was so socially awkward around people. She supposed she hadn't realized just how…influential her mother was on her social skills. It wasn't until she had made actual friends that it dawned on her that when she first met them, she was probably a fish out of water.
For as long as she could remember, her mother had been the only one she could talk to. And it wasn't like the elder Fowler was much of a social butterfly. Conversations between the Fowler women were limited at best. They mostly became absorbed in their own interests, and only talked about the thing that they both cared about: neuroscience. While the topic of neuroscience was certainly enough to keep Amy and Maria going for a few hours, eventually, they tired of it and silence overtook them once again.
Growing up, Amy was used the comfort (and loneliness) of silence. And it seemed like she was about to return to that life, at least of the time being.
When Amy reached the door of her former bedroom, she hesitated. It had been years since she'd last visited. She wasn't sure how she would feel.
Her room had been her sanctuary from the time she was an infant until she left for undergraduate school. Amy had spent many days alone inside of this room, reading medieval literature, listening to folk music, writing her own poetry, or working in the laboratory that her mother had designed and built for her.
She was definitely surprised that the lab had been maintained. She had fully expected it to be cleaned out entirely, but it was a relief that it was still there and functioning. She had promised CalTech that she would take her sabbatical to continue with her research, and having a lab handy at home was perfect.
With a deep sigh, she pushed open the door, the feeling of nostalgia washing over her.
The room wasn't complex, but Amy preferred its simplicity.
The walls were painted a mossy green to represent the trees in a forest, while the ceiling was a light blue to match the color of the sky. As a child, Amy had wanted the feeling of being in the forest without having to actually leave her small paradise.
Smiling, she glanced at all of the posters that remained tacked onto the walls. Most of them were science related, but she managed to find some that were Medieval themed. Her gaze shifted to the large wooden desk that was pushed against the wall closest to her. She loved that desk for its delicately carved edifice. It looked like it was about a hundred years old, but it still stood as strong as ever. Amy could imagine when she was younger, sitting at the desk, with the lamp on, writing her worries away in her diary.
She cast her gaze towards the full sized bed that rested against the opposite wall facing her. It wasn't a water bed, but the cushiony mattress was similar to that of one. As a child, she never had any issues falling asleep. Her bed was a comfortable oasis that could easily whisk her away into Dream Land.
In the center of the bed lay her white stuffed teddy bear. The bear, with his kind brown eyes and arms surrounding a plush red heart that said, Be Mine, was her childhood friend.
She had bought Snuggles after passing by the window of Hallmark on her way home from school during the seventh grade. It was Valentine's Day, and she would be lying if she said she hadn't spent most of it hidden away in the library, shielding herself with a book so the other kids didn't know she was crying. She hated how every girl seemed to have valentine, even the extremely quiet ones who looked like they couldn't talk to a boy to save their lives. Feeling sorry for herself that day, she caved and purchased the bear because that was the closest thing she would have to any type of romance.
Amy's thoughts spiraled back to the present time when she felt her heart clench painfully in her chest. Seeing Snuggles for the first time in years reminded her of her own Cuddles. He was back in Pasadena, probably working on solving the next biggest physics crisis, too busy to think about her at all.
Shaking her head, she mentally scolded herself for thinking about him. The point of leaving was to put him aside for now so that she could focus on herself.
"Maybe seeing the lab will help," she muttered.
She plopped her bags on her bed and walked to the back of the room where a single door was shut. Without hesitating, she yanked the door open and flipped the light switch on.
Amy stared at the large laboratory and smiled.
This was the lab she had used as a child and adolescent—where she first had the opportunity to design and run experiments, examine specimens under the microscope (especially brain matter), and overall enforce her love of all things science related.
While it wasn't as high-tech as the one at CalTech, it was similar to the first lab that she worked in before she transferred to the university. There were a several beakers, graduated cylinders, and other glassware hidden in the cabinets. High gadget technology sat on the counter tops, all shiny and freshly cleaned. There were even a couple of cages that normally contained animals that Amy could experiment with as she pleased. They were, of course, devoid of any living creatures at the moment. But, her mother had connections, being a retired neurosurgeon and a current professor at a local university. If she needed lab animals, all she had to do was ask.
Amy decided to run her fingertips across the surface of the counters. She only really felt completely at home when she was in the lab. It was just something about working under the lights, scrutinizing whatever neurobiological thing she was working on at the time.
A soft knock on the door pierced the silence in the air.
Amy turned to find her mother leaning against the door frame.
"The tea is freshly brewed, Amelia. Would you like to join me now?"
The younger Fowler nodded. "After you, Mother."
Maria exited, followed by Amy.
She closed the lab door behind her, mentally reminding herself to spend the remainder of the evening locked inside of there. She could do some preliminary work that didn't involve examining addiction levels of primates, or stimulating the nervous system of sea stars.
It didn't take long for Amy to reach the formal sitting area. She elected to sit down on the high backed Victorian chair that looked like something one of the former Queens of England would have perched on for tea.
She noticed the silver tray on the coffee table. The tray, the kind that women of wealth used to have their servants carry, was covered with fine white china that had tiny pink roses dotting across the surfaces. A steaming tea pot was in the center of the tray, with two cups and matching saucers on either side. Additionally, two sterling silver spoons, a bowl for sugar cubes, a plate for lemon wedges, a small glass jar of honey, and plate of what appeared to be butter cookies were all neatly placed on it.
"I brewed a combination of chamomile and peppermint rose tea. I thought you needed something calming," Maria said, settling herself down on the loveseat, opposite of Amy. She gestured to the tray. "Help yourself."
Amy felt touched. For as few words as Maria actually uttered, her actions spoke volumes.
"Thank you, Mother."
Amy carefully poured herself a cup of tea. As soon as the liquid escaped its china container and dripped into the cup, its aroma immediately soothed her tense muscles. After squeezing in a bit of lemon and adding two sugar cubes, she brought the cup to her lips, taking a sip of the scalding beverage.
When Maria situated herself with her own tea, she asked the question Amy had been dreading to answer.
"Amelia, tell me the real reason why you've decided to visit. I do not believe that you are simply here to see me, as much as I wish that were the truth."
Amy sighed, took another swig of the tea, and placed it in its original spot on the silver tray. She leaned back in her seat and glanced up at the ceiling to avoid her mother's probing gaze.
Shrugging as if it wasn't a big deal, she said, "I needed to get away. Life in Pasadena was suffocating me. Work became stressful, so I asked to take a sabbatical."
Even though Amy couldn't tell what Maria's facial expression was, she could imagine her mother quirking an eyebrow at her.
"You know that's a bold-faced lie, Amelia. Tell me the truth."
Amy winced. That was the Mom Voice—the one that all mothers used when they wanted information now.
"Fine." Amy frowned, straightening her posture. "It's—it's about Sheldon, okay?" she paused, swallowing around the sudden lump in her throat. "We're on a bit of break. I felt that if I came home, I would be far enough away to think clearly."
Maria flinched. "Ah, I see." She trained her eyes on her beverage and continued to drink in silence.
At that moment, Amy wanted nothing more than for the floor to open up into a gaping hole and drag her down into its depths. She and her mother never discussed their feelings. The endeavor was always way too awkward, so they mutually agreed that neither would participate in such a thing.
Amy was torn from her thoughts when she heard her mother clear her throat. Looking up, she found a gentle expression on her face.
While Maria was never a harsh person, she certainly wasn't one to openly show emotion. To say Amy was a little startled would have been an understatement. And the words that came out of her mother's mouth surprised her even more.
"Amelia Farrah Fowler, it is perfectly normal to be upset about a situation like this. You don't need to always have such a brave face."
Amy's shoulders sagged. She couldn't get much past her mother—she knew her better than anyone else.
"What choice do I have? If I don't act like I'm okay, then what am I supposed to do? I decided to leave on my own; no one forced me to. I thought it was the right decision. Despite what you may think, I didn't leave solely because of Sheldon. Yes, he has a large part in this, but I also figured out that I was losing who I was in Pasadena. Somewhere along the line, I started to realize that I was melding into that group. I got caught up in their lives, all too enticed by the prospect of friendship. Because of that, I neglected to see the parts of me that were slipping away."
Maria's eyes flashed with concern. "What do you mean by your statement? I'm not sure I quite understand."
A long, drawn out breath left Amy's mouth. When her mother asked her to have tea, she expected polite small talk, followed by awkward silence. Not an interrogation.
"I'm not as strong and independent as I used to be. Before I had friends, I didn't need to rely on anyone. I may have craved company, but I wasn't on my hands and knees begging for it. Now that I've had a taste of what true friendship is like and have seen the beauty of it, I don't know if I can give it up." Amy's eyes widened at the realization. "Now I know how the monkeys feel in the lab. I'm the product of my own addiction study—I'm addicted to the company that my friends provide."
Maria sipped at her tea, allowing Amy to momentarily revel in her epiphany. After a few moments, she chimed in.
In a quiet, but sterner voice, she said, "And the problem with being 'addicted to your friends' is what? You've always wanted friends. That's all you could talk about as a child. Now you have them and you're complaining?" She shook her head. "That's very contradictory. Amelia, get to the root of the problem. You are beating too much around the bush. I cannot decipher what it is you are trying to tell me."
Amy groaned, removed her glasses, and proceed to rub at her eyes with the heels of her palms. She was trying to buy time to further evade the question, but of course, she knew she couldn't avoid answering. Her mother could definitely be an insistent woman when she wanted to be.
Pushing her glasses back on her face, Amy squared her shoulders.
"It's not that I don't love having friends. I really do. It's just that I'm afraid that I miss the old Amy Farrah Fowler. The one who was quirky and broke social norms. The one who was so emotionally strong that not even a cruel comment could truly break her down. The one who didn't need to constantly have 'Girls' Night' to make her feel better about herself. The one who didn't need an egomaniac boyfriend who keeps stringing her along. After much thought, I've decided that I deserve to feel happiness without the fear that I'm on a time crunch. I constantly feel like someday, they are going to tire of me and leave first. I'm not sure I could handle the rejection. I haven't stood on my two feet in such a long time because I've been leaning on other people. The old me wouldn't have done that. I need to figure out if she still exists. Do I want her to? I don't know. That's why I'm here, and that's why I'm traveling around this country. This is for me, Mother."
A rare, full blown smile crossed Maria's lips.
"You remind me so much of your father sometimes."
Amy's jaw dropped. Her mother never talked about her father. Ever.
She wasn't even sure how to reply.
So, she sat in silence, with her mouth hanging open, looking like a gobsmacked fool.
Maria clucked her tongue impatiently. "Amelia, do close your mouth. I assume you do not wish for flies to nest in there."
Amy snapped her mouth shut. But, surprise and confusion still swirled in her emerald eyes.
Luckily, Maria understood what her daughter wanted to say, despite the lack of words.
"I realize I don't generally talk about your father, but he did exist. We were a married couple who was very much in love." Nostalgia glistened in Maria's eyes.
Amy reflexively clutched onto her the upholstery of her seat. When she spoke again, she had to fight to keep the hysteria out of her voice.
"I was aware that I had a father because biologically speaking, it makes sense. But, I didn't know that you involved with him. You led me to believe that you had just gone to an intelligent sperm bank. You said you wanted a child, but didn't want to spend the rest of life as a married woman. There are no family photographs with him. There's no trace of him. I didn't know—"
"Yes, that's what I wanted you to believe," Maria interrupted. "I thought it was easier than telling you the truth. When you were a child, I didn't want you to become entranced by the idea of finding 'true love.' That was why I prohibited you from watching any of those Disney movies. There was no way that I was about to let my daughter get into her head that all a woman needed in her life was a man to save her. I learned to save myself, and that's what I intended to teach you. I kept your father a secret because if you had known that I was in love once, then…"
"Then I would believe that it was acceptable for me to feel it as well," Amy finished roughly. She threaded her fingers through her hair impulsively, yanking on the tresses in frustration. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, as her cheeks flushed a deep pink. Her eyes suddenly became misty.
"I can't believe you kept that from me! Mother, do you know how many nights I've dreamed about having a father who could read me bedtime stories, hug me when I was feeling depressed, and ruffle my hair after I did something he was proud of?"
"I am aware, and for that, I apologize." Maria paused, shame coloring her tone. "It was for your own protection, which is something I'll have to explain in more detail later on. I understand that we have a lot to discuss, and while you are home, I hope we have a chance to do that. Whatever questions you have about your father, I will answer, no matter what they are. It's time for you to learn about the other half of you. If the purpose of your traveling is to rediscover who you are, it's only reasonable that you understand your heritage."
Amy took a shuddering breath. "Before we even delve into the topic of my father, I need to ask you something."
Maria set her empty tea cup on the coffee table, crossed her legs, and placed her hands in her lap.
"Yes?"
"If you wanted me to avoid love for so long, why did you make me vow to date once a year? I don't understand."
A quiet chuckle unexpectedly bubbled out of Maria's lips. "Oh, Amelia. That was your grandmother's doing, not mine. I was more than happy to let you stay single. However, my own mother was concerned for your well-being. You know Grandmother Evangeline and how traditional she is. She was afraid that you would never attract a gentleman. She noticed how you were constantly alone, which did not settle well with her. She didn't want you to grow old without someone there beside you. In other words, she didn't want you to turn into me." Maria smiled ruefully.
"She told me to set you up on those dating websites, but coerced me into making it seem like it was my idea. The last thing she wanted was for you to become upset with her. Apparently, it was perfectly acceptable in her mind for you to get frustrated with me instead. The batty old woman." She shook her head fondly.
"Against my better judgment, I followed her instructions and pushed you to 'date.' I was secretly glad that none of the men worked out for you."
Realization dawned on Amy. "So, when I actually fell in love with Sheldon…"
"I was hesitant, yes. A bit upset? Certainly. Concerned? Of course. I didn't want you to have the same fate that I had. I would never wish that on anyone, let alone my own daughter."
Amy nodded in understanding, but there was frown on her lips. A part of her was dying to know what her mother was referring to, but she didn't feel the need to press the issue at the moment.
Instead, she asked, "You never approved of Sheldon then?"
Maria heaved a slightly exasperated sigh.
"Amelia, there was never a moment when I thought he was wrongfor you. On the contrary, I believed that you had found exactly the right person for you. And that's why I was worried. I knew that if things were to fall apart, you would be devastated. Nothing is worse than losing someone that you know deep in your heart you belong with." Maria's eyes shined with unshed tears. "I know the feeling all too well."
Amy looked away, deciding that she wasn't quite ready to open the fresh wounds of her relationship with Sheldon. She would much rather talk about her elusive father.
"I want to know everything about my father." She paused. "But, please do not give me the entirety of the information tonight. It's just too much all at once."
"Of course—I completely understand. If you wish to bring up your father, then by all means, do so. It will be on your terms. But, I must apologize for inserting your father into the conversation without a fair warning. I'm not exactly sure what came over me just now. I've had practice holding my tongue all of these years. Every time you did something that reminded me of him, I chose to stay quiet. My only conclusion is that this piece of information slipped out because you wanted to know more about yourself." She shrugged delicately.
Amy shifted awkwardly in her seat, seeming antsy.
"There are a few of things I'd like to ask you right now, though, if you don't mind."
Maria nodded. "You may proceed."
"What is his name? Is he still alive? And what did he study in school?"
Maria's lips curled into a small smile. "His name is Robert Anderson. He is two years my senior, and yes, he is still alive." She stopped speaking for a brief second. Amy noticed that the smile grew a tiny bit bigger. "He was a biology major with a psychology minor. As much as he loved the sciences and the social sciences, he also dabbled a bit in the arts. He didn't like to boast, but he was actually quite a poet. That's actually how we met—I first laid my eyes on him at a poetry reading."
Amy's stomach fluttered. That sounded incredibly romantic. And so unlike her mother. She had never imagined her mother as the type to wander into a poetry reading. She was always too straight laced and serious for something so…artsy.
"You and poetry, Mother? I cannot imagine that," Amy laughed.
Maria laughed along with her daughter. "A friend convinced me to go. It wasn't my idea."
"And you actually stayed? I'm impressed."
A ghost of a smirk graced Maria's lips. "I was more open-minded when I was younger, Amelia. You have to give me some credit."
Amy could hardly believe it. She almost wanted to burst out laughing. Here she was playfully joking around with her mother. Years ago, this would have been improbable. But now…they were able to talk freely, without awkward silence. She couldn't help it; she smiled.
Maria could easily pick up on daughter's brighter mood, having felt the tension she normal shared with her dissipate. She decided to run with it.
"Would you like to see a picture of him? I have two that are hidden in my bedroom." She hesitated for a second before continuing. "I understand if it's too soon, though."
A soft look crossed Amy's face. "Yes, if it wouldn't be too much to ask. I want to know what he looks like."
Lifting herself gingerly out of her seat, Maria quietly said, "I'll just be a moment. There is one I would like to show you one tonight. The other will have to wait for another day." She turned on her heel, walking swiftly out of the room.
Amy waited in bated breath for her mother to return. She had to resist the urge to bite her fingernails in anticipation. The tick-tock of the old grandfather clock drove her up the wall; its steady rhythm had no match for her erratic heartbeat.
When her mother appeared once again with a golden circular frame in her small hands, Amy let out the breath she had been holding in. Her shoulders visibly relaxed from the stiff position they had been in.
"Join me on the loveseat, Amelia. It will be easier to see this way," Maria instructed.
In two quick strides, Amy moved in front of the loveseat and sat down next to her mother. Leaning over her shoulder, she gazed at the photograph. A whisper of a gasp left her mouth.
The man staring back at her was definitely her father. Even though the photograph had yellowed with age, Amy could tell that his eyes were a sharp, intense emerald green. They were her eyes through and through. His smile, which was somewhat crooked but still loveable, was quite similar to her own. His hair, a deep chocolate brown, appeared soft and smooth. One dimple showed on his right cheek, and the sight made Amy's heart melt a little. He was a very attractive man—no wonder her mother had fallen for him.
She glanced down at what he was wearing: a tuxedo. Her eyes widened and shifted their focus to the right side of him. He had his arm wrapped around…her mother.
In the photograph, Maria Fowler beamed into the camera wearing a lovely wedding gown. Like Maria, the dress was petite, but it was cut so beautifully on her. With a beaded bodice and flowy ballroom style finish, it certainly made her look like a princess. Her veil was thrown back to reveal her radiant face, shining with bliss.
Without a doubt, this was the most beautiful picture Amy had ever seen. With a gentle finger, she reached out to trace the image of her parents.
She felt her eyes well up with tears. "It's beautiful," she whispered, holding back a sob.
Maria smiled, setting the picture frame on the coffee table. "Thank you, Amelia. Handsome devil, isn't he?"
Amy grinned through her tears. "Most definitely. You two look perfect together."
There was wistful look in Maria's eyes. "I have to agree with you."
Hesitantly, Amy touched her mother's knee. Physical contact had never really been their thing.
"Thank you for showing me the photograph. It means a lot to me. Probably more than you'll ever know."
To Amy's complete dismay, her mother shifted and carefully embraced her. She stroked her hair as they hugged.
No words were exchanged between them, but there didn't need to be. This simple gesture was all it took to get the message across.
When they both moved away from one another a few moments later, a comfortable silence settled.
Amy smiled. "I think that's enough discussion on that for tonight. I should go back to the lab and pull up the data that I've been working on. I did tell the university that my sabbatical was going to put to good use." She chuckled. "Would you mind speaking with your contacts about lab animals? I may need to run some tests while I'm here."
"Of course. Good luck with your lab work, Amelia. I am preparing dinner tonight, so if you find yourself famished, you can find me in the kitchen. Would you like to keep the photograph in your bedroom while you are here?" With that, she picked up the used tea cups and placed them on the tray. Before she made her way out of the room, she turned to Amy. "Would you like to keep the photograph in your bedroom for the duration of your stay?"
Her answer came quickly. "I would love to."
Amy took a hold of the picture frame and cradled it to her chest. She watched her mother go, but before retiring to her own bedroom, she marveled at all of the information she had learned in one sitting with her mother—a woman who, only an hour ago, hardly exchanged words with her.
Maybe this trip will be better for me than expected, she thought to herself.
Shaking her head and smiling again, she stood and headed towards the lab in her room.