As always I own nothing, make no money from this and bow before the genius that is Chuck Lorre, Bill Prady and all of the writers, actors and crew that bring the TBBT to life. Thank you.

Thank you bamadude, SRAM, and tonstar17 for reviewing this story and pointing out a slightly different way to push the words. I appreciate all reviews but these were particularly helpful.

Down the rabbit hole

The teleconference with my Mother marked a large change in our relationship. On finding out the true nature of my call she had become engaged and almost witty at times. She found my revelations about Sheldon to be both interesting and insightful. She did critique some of my conclusions but they were more instructional than confrontational. I began to understand why her classes were so popular at Princeton. Mother reviewed the journal entrees I had for Sheldon and agreed that while the witch hunt had crippled him, he should be able to reach his full potential if in a more secure environment. Explaining my actions to date she warned me that while I was smart to get him into a regimented schedule, I needed to take care not to go too far and end up taking control of his life. That would not be good for his personal growth or mine. Mother stressed that many times. This was the first time I realized she did care for me but was unable to express or show it in a socially acceptable way.

Mother agreed to assist me in my endeavor on 2 conditions. The first was regularly scheduled visits from her so she might study Sheldon's progress. The second was that if she said to walk away I was to do it without argument, no excuses. The next part surprised me when she stated that her reasoning for that requirement was that she was not willing to lose one person with potential while trying to rescue another. Since we had accomplished what I needed I assumed Mother was ready to disconnect. This is when I got yet another surprise, Mother wanted to share information on the rest of the family. Michael was studying for the bar. Uncle Floyd and family were still enjoying retirement in Tuscany. Father was at a dig in northern Italy that promised more data on the lives of the Etruscans. The last news was that Eleanor had been accepted a position at one of the large research firms that was studying diabetes. Mother seemed proud that she had chosen that path. I always wondered how much Mrs. Loletta's death had to do with that decision. Then it hit me that Eleanor's interest in Neurology had never about Mother. She was trying to "save" Angelo. Once she was educated enough to know that the technology needed for his "repair" was decades in the future she instead focused on curing Diabetes, the disease that had taken Mrs. Loletta from her. She was human after all.

Badda-bomb

We were well into the 7th week with no clear results. Our liaison officer, Capt. Wilkes, had informed us that the DOD was considering shelving the project and moving on to other options.

We were all pretty tired and a little angry with our lack of progress. Tempers were short and after a particular lack luster test I sent everyone home. I had to meet with the Dean so Howard offered to drop Sheldon of at the apartment building. You always hear of the fortuitous mistakes. The discovery made by accident. I decline to use those terms to define that night. I had been cleaning up when for some reason I had noticed a miscalculation on our last test run. I fixed the error and mixed a small sample of the "new" fuel to test under the fume hood. I had raised the containment wall and was walking to the Waldo controls when I heard drip. Fans running, centrifuge whirling, and yet I still hear that drip. I had spun back to face the fume hood when I saw the smoke rising from the test tube. I hit the panic button and then everything went blank. When I woke I hurt all over and could not open my eyes. I tried to raise my hand to clear my eyes and found that they were secured to my side. A soft woman's voice explained to me what was going on. There had been an explosion in my lab and after being checked over by the DOD guards and paramedics I was medivaced to UCLA's Medical Centre. It had a secure ward and as luck would have one of the Neurologists on staff had DOD clearance. She introduced herself as Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler. I liked her from the start. She told me what to expect and detailed my wounds and injuries. The jet fuel had exploded destroying the fume hood, the containment wall and a good bit of the work bench. Most of the damage I had sustained was not from blast itself but from the damage done by the the percussion. Shattered glass and pyrex shards went spiraling through the room like a mini-claymore mine. I had a concussion, my right arm and left leg was broken. My left hand was covered in a gelatinous goo that was designed to leach out the chemicals my hand had been soaked with. Minute slivers of glass had gotten into my eyes, scratching one cornea and shredding part of they eyelid. I was on a dialysis machine but only to clean my blood of the chemicals I had absorbed while laying on the lab floor. One eardrum had been pierced and I was missing 2 toes from my left foot. There was also a small chance that the chemicals in the air my have mangled my taste buds. Other than that I was fine. Dr. Fowler in tandem with the team of military doctors brought in were tending me and looking for any other damage done. I must say it was interesting being tied to a bed and attended by voices without faces. There was Amy, who had a very dry sense of humor but also was obviously socially awkward. There was Dr. D who sounded like he should be out riding a dirt bike instead of gluing people back together. The there was Nurse Cratchet who never introduced herself but seemed determined to scrap off what was left of my skin. Very professional but also very off putting. Amy brought in her iPod for me to listen to as well as some audible books. She was a great fan of Neil Diamond judging by her iPod collection. So my days went. Being satisfied that I had no serve brain trauma it was decided to move me into the hospitals advance care ward. I was then to spend time with the physical therapist but would still spend most of the time in bed till my eyes recovered. I was into my sixth week of recovery when I heard them come into my room. Raj, Sheldon, and Howard had finally been allowed to visit. Raj was trying to keep it light hearted but Sheldon sounded sullen and tense. Realizing what a set back this could be I asked Raj to guard the door while I talked with Howard and Sheldon. They had read my AAR (military speak for after action report) had continued working on the formula but without me they were spending to much time on the wrong steps. I told them to continue but to focus on the tests prior to the explosion. We could no longer be methodical if we were to keep the DOD from pulling the plug. I sent Howard out of the room and told Sheldon he needed to step up. He could do the math and he was fully capable of analyzing the formula to find a way to maximize the power created and minimize the destruction. I told him of my belief that the explosion was caused by a drop of water getting into fuel mix through the fume hood. His eyes lit up as his mind began to deconstruct our previous sessions and factor in the water droplet (or what might be in the droplet). Doubt was returning to his face so I played dirty. Pretending that the dark glasses were to cover damaged eyes I raised my broken arm and made him swear to finish my project. Do not let my pain be in vain (I actually used those words, not one of my finer moments). I used every cliche and platitude to convince him only he was capable of leading this project to a successful conclusion. His eyes took on a fire I had not seen before and he was already lost in thought determining the next step. Everything was in place and then fate stepped in in the form of Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler. Here to check on her favorite patient even though technically she was never my doctor. Sheldon and Amy could barely answer as I introduced them. Sheldon's pupils were dilated and Amy's ears where turning a dark red. Amy was paged by her lab but before she could leave I made her promise to have dinner with us once I was out of the hospital. She became tongue tied but finally agreed. I had her and Sheldon exchange numbers for later contact. The parting of the two was a mix of babble and giggle. I may be out circulation for a while but the work would go on. I couldn't wait to report the latest events to Mother. Her visit was going to have to be sooner than originally planned, then again what better reason to visit that a sick child.