Chapter Eleven: Sheldon Strikes Back

It's a commonly accepted notion that after they had verbally expressed their innermost secrets, fears, and emotions to another human being, most people felt better.

Amy felt like cleaning.

I love Sheldon. She'd told her sister that, which was something she'd never directly admitted out loud to anyone before—not even herself. The feeling had always been there, of course. It was hard to remember a time she'd known Sheldon when it hadn't been there in some form or other. Over the summer, specifically, it had seemed to mushroom within her.

But like Pandora's infamous box, she'd left it alone. She'd been too afraid to give it a name, afraid of what it would mean for her relationship with Sheldon. He couldn't pick up on sarcasm, but he was more than able to pick up on other things. Would he be able to figure this out? Would it scare him away? Would it change their interactions, destroy the fragile but pleasing intimate connection they'd worked so diligently to construct? Would it make her want more, not only in terms of physical affection, but also in areas of emotional fulfillment? In particular, would it mean she would want to admit her feelings to Sheldon and to have him tell her he felt the same? She had a sneaking suspicion it would, and this only reminded her of the time she'd asked Sheldon to meet her mother. He'd flown into a complete panic and refused to speak to her because he'd assumed her request meant she'd fallen in love with him. Of course, at the time, it hadn't meant any such thing. But now … What would he do when he found out she really did love him? She hadn't wanted to consider that; so she'd pushed it all away. There would be time for that later, she'd always told herself. Much, much later.

So, now that Pandora's box was well and truly open, she didn't feel better. It just stood as a reminder that the "later" she'd expected to have to work this all out would never come. It also made one fact abundantly clear: She loved Sheldon Cooper, and it was a scar she was going to carry for the rest of her life. How could one feel better about that?

Of course, once her feelings for Sheldon were out in the open, Amy couldn't seem to stop herself from spilling every embarrassing detail of the past week as well. On and on she'd talked until she felt like she'd born her soul to the world. The mere concept of that bothered her, as that was the kind of thing only hippies did. But logic-loving scientist or not, she'd done it.

Now that she'd blabbed everything, she didn't want to talk ever again. She wanted to immerse herself in something menial, anything so she didn't have to think. For the first time in her life, thinking was the enemy. To think was to consider all she'd had and all she'd lost again and again. No. No. No. No thinking. Thinking was a dangerous occupation right now.

She was overwhelmed with the need to wipe down her coffee table until she could see her face gleaming back at her in the pine. Not that she was necessarily concerned by the sudden compulsion. It was a family trait. Some Fowlers cleaned when they were angry and needed to take out all the negative energy on something. Some cleaned because they needed to keep their bodies busy while their minds worked through something complicated. Amy cleaned because her apartment was a disorganized, unhygienic mess and it was driving her to distraction. Maybe if she got her apartment in order, the rest of her life would follow as well.

She'd been hoping to at least be relieved to have shared all that had happened to her with her sister. Instead, she was oddly disappointed in herself and, at the same time, overcome with the sense that she'd done the right thing in dumping Sheldon. It was an odd paradox of emotion to be sure. While she didn't feel like celebrating or even smiling at this point, the anger she hadn't even realized she'd been holding on to had been released. There was a slight euphoria in the action; so she concentrated on that while she searched under the sink in the kitchen for her bottle of unscented Lysol and a few cleaning cloths.

It had taken one box of Kleenex, three glasses of wine, and a half a pack of Mallomars to explain the whole sordid tale to Emily—well, not the whole story. There was no way Amy was going to explain that Sheldon had never touched her in the first place. Emily would never understand that. So, she just stuck to what had happened with Kripke (well, just that Sheldon had disclosed their sex life to him), the issues with the new assistant, the gossip, Sheldon's insistence that he'd done nothing wrong, and the eventual fallout which came from that. Thankfully, her sister hadn't spoken too much during the telling. Actually, she'd made only one comment. It was just that she had a strange habit of repeating it over and over like a refrain at the stickier and more upsetting points in the story. Amy hadn't taken it too seriously considering all the sordid details Emily had to hear—she'd always been a tad overprotective of her younger siblings, after all. But when Amy returned to the living room with cleaner and cloths in hand and began spraying and wiping everything in sight, the comment was made again, and Amy had to consider that maybe there was more to it than Emily just blowing off a little steam.

"I'm going castrate that man with a butcher knife."

"You don't mean that," Amy said, hoping she was right as she dropped wadded tissues, empty food cartons, and other sundry debris into a nearby trashcan. Still, it was nice to have someone stick up for her like that. It made her feel oddly vindicated in her actions.

Emily nodded. "You're right. A butcher knife is too good for him. I'm going castrate Sheldon Cooper with a dull spoon." Her eyes radiated the fury behind her threat as she gave a confident nod. "It'll hurt more."

The crazy light in her sister's eyes left Amy alarmed. Suddenly, she was very glad she'd never allowed her sister and her boyfriend to meet in person. Ex-boyfriend, she mentally corrected. When Emily rose from the couch and marched into the kitchen, she grew more concerned. Of course, that concern wasn't so much for Sheldon, it was for the dishes Emily was washing with the ferocity of a tornado in a trailer park.

Emily was an angry-cleaning Fowler, much like their mother. Since Amy knew there would be tons of questions from her sister as soon as she had worked through most of her rage —and because Amy had gotten a good look at herself in the mirror when she went to hang up the discarded plum sweater in her closet—she decided a long shower was in order.

It took two thorough scrubbings before she felt anywhere near clean. As she got out of the shower and began to towel-dry her hair, memories of Sheldon rose again to the surface. What would life be like now without him? She'd had a five-year plan set for them for so long; so it wasn't a question she'd ever contemplated before. Now, it wouldn't go away. She remembered when she'd received that second gift from him yesterday. Pulling the ornate card from the box and seeing something she'd wanted for a long time being used as a ploy to buy her silence had made something snap inside of her.

How could he do that? How could he be so callous to try to use something she loved so much against her? She'd hated him so much then. If he'd brought the gift in person, she was sure she would have struck him repeatedly across the face. Admitting this was shocking. Amy had always considered herself above such obvious displays of violence, but, in that moment, she could certainly understand the inclination.

It wasn't just that he'd sent her such a gift. It was that the gesture made it obvious how much Sheldon wasn't going to take her feelings seriously and how stubborn he was going to be in even understanding the situation. He honestly didn't believe he'd erred, and he was only humoring her with gifts so she'd stop punishing him. It made her feel like he'd been the one to slap her. Why would he send presents to cover up his mistakes instead of apologizing? Why did he think it was all right to do so?

Because you've told him it was by your own prior actions.

It was true. She knew it. From the time she'd accepted the perfectly magnificent tiara, she'd set up a pattern of behavior which told him with absolute certainty that the way to get around her anger was through presents. She'd never contradicted this, verbally or otherwise. Even when he'd taken Wil Wheaton's side during her directorial debut of Fun With Flags, he'd given her a boxed DVD set of Star Trek: The Next Generation instead of apologizing. She'd slammed the door in his face, of course, but she'd eventually taken the gift. Then, the next day, he'd shown up at her lab with lunch for them both, and she'd let it all go. She'd never made him apologize. He'd looked sickly and a little green around the gills and she'd foolishly told herself that he was unwell because he'd missed her presence in his life. Then, he smiled the little boy smile of his that made her stomach clench and her heart do backflips and she was, in the words of Penny, "a goner".

Besides, he'd never repeated his mistake. No matter who was arguing with her, he always took her side. She'd told herself that was the most important thing. Now, she knew it wasn't. It was just another way Sheldon had been trying to get around getting punished or having her angry. He never stopped to consider her feelings except in relation to how it would affect him, and he never would.

"Arrogant and stubborn," she muttered, squeezing toothpaste on a toothbrush and taking her frustration out on plaque.

By the time she'd gargled and swished with Listerine for the required thirty seconds, she was calm again. She spit it out the mouthwash, wiped her mouth, and padded into her bedroom in search of clothes to wear. The Tweety Bird nightgown was out, of course. But as Amy pulled out her favorite blue flannel pajamas and slipped on a pair of white cotton underwear, she made a mental note to pick up another cotton night shirt similar to that one.

"You feeling better?" Emily said, pushing open the door and using her sisterly right to barge into Amy's bedroom without knocking.

Before her shower, Amy had been feeling tipsy—the effects of too much wine—but now she felt sober and clear-headed. "I just need to get some sleep, and I'll be fine," she said, reaching into a drawer to pull out some socks. Her toes were freezing. Also, since she was obviously getting ready to sleep, she hoped Emily would take the hint and go home. After all, Amy understood well now that her sister knew the full story behind her relationship with Sheldon, she was going to want to spend hours dissecting everything. As much as Amy enjoyed using a scalpel as a neurobiologist, she had no interest in taking part in Emily's relationship autopsy. There wasn't enough wine in the world to act as an anesthetic for that.

"So, what are you wearing to the dinner tonight?" Emily asked, stepping inside the room.

Fudge! Amy looked up at her sister in a near panic. She'd forgotten about dinner with her family tonight. Oh the horror! "Please don't say I still have to go to that. I don't have the strength."

"You don't have a choice, Amy. You know that. It's mandatory. Besides, I already told everyone you're coming."

Amy groaned and slumped down on her bed, holding the flannel nightgown against her naked chest. "Tell them I'm sick."

"They'll know I'm lying. Then, they'll make me tell them the truth, which means Harper will find out that you broke up with your boyfriend. Is that what you want? Her wedding is next week. You think she's gonna let news like that slide without throwing it in your face?"

Burying her face in the flannel, Amy shook her head in denial.

"All right then. Dooley's back and on his way upstairs. Get dressed. We have to go in ten minutes if we are going to make it home on time."

"Ten minutes? Why?" Amy shot up from the bed, her wet hair slapping against her bare back. "I'll never be able to be ready in ten minutes. I haven't even dried my hair yet. Besides, it's only three in the afternoon."

Emily frowned. "Yeah, and it's a two-hour drive to Mom and Dad's house. Plus, I've got to get ready myself and make sure the kids get ready, too. You're also forgetting Mom is going to want us there early to help get everything set up."

"You go ahead," Amy said, her mind coming up with a pretty brilliant plan. "I'll catch up."

Her sister cocked a suspicious eyebrow at her. "Who do you think you're talking to? I wasn't born yesterday, missy. You might be smarter than me, but I am infinitely more cunning and I'm the mother of two children who have written the book on ingenuity. Besides, you've had way too much wine to be driving yourself anyway." She tapped a finger against her chin. "I know! I'll leave Dooley here, and he can drive you."

"Doesn't he have to get ready as well?" Amy pointed out, aware that she was grasping at straws at this point, but too desperate to care.

Emily shrugged. "I'll get his suit ready. He'll be fine. Men don't need a lot of time. Just don't forget to get your hair out of your face and to wear makeup. Otherwise, you know Mom will complain."

There was a knock at the door.

"That'll be Dooley," Emily said. "I'll let him know the plan. Hurry up and get ready."

She shut the bedroom door behind her before Amy could reply. She slumped back on the bed again, her hand fisting tightly in the fabric of the nightgown she was holding until her fingers began to ache. I broke up with my boyfriend. I'm heartbroken, slightly drunk, and now I have to have dinner with my family.

"Oh, crap," she said. "I'm going to be an alcoholic before this is over with."

—TMR—

"Well done, Dr. Cooper," Dr. Gablehauser said, reaching forward to shake Sheldon's hand.

Sheldon didn't even look up as he made his way out of the auditorium where he'd just helped Kripke give their presentation for the grant. His work obligations were over with, and he had other things to do before he went to see Amy tonight. The last thing he needed was to be sidelined by Gablehauser spouting facts he already knew.

"Dr. Cooper?" Gablehauser called as Sheldon sprinted away.

"He's on the verge of something pretty important, sir," he heard Leonard say as he made it to the door. "He's been up all night working on it."

Sheldon didn't hear the rest of Leonard's lies. Or maybe they weren't lies. After all, he had been up all night trying to come up with the right way to approach Amy. He'd garnered advice from as many sources as he could. The internet, Leonard, his mother, Meemaw, and even Penny. They all seemed to come to the same conclusion: Apologize. Sheldon had rolled his eyes each time—well except with Meemaw. No one rolled their eyes at Meemaw (even if they were on the phone with her)—because the fact that he should apologize had been apparent to him from the time he'd made it home last night. After all, Amy had said she wanted nothing more than a real apology. He was going to give her what she wanted. His real conundrum was what to say beyond that so Amy would know he was sincere when he said he willing to do anything in order to get her back.

"Do you even know why you're apologizing?" Penny has asked when he said that.

"I hurt her feelings," Sheldon had replied.

"You hurt her feelings by doing what?"

"I lied to Kripke about our bedroom activities. And, even though I did not directly lie to Kripke in the beginning, I can admit now that not correcting him in his assumptions about my relationship with Amy was lying as well."

"You finally got that, huh?" Penny had said.

Sheldon had nodded. "Indeed. Amy made her point quite well on that."

Now, all these many hours later, he was standing in his office, packing up his stuff and readying himself to leave. He remembered how Amy had made her point about omissions being the same as lies. How could he ever forget that?

His girlfriend was smarter than he was. That fact should have bothered him or, at the very least, left him feeling emasculated and unsure of himself. But it didn't. If anything, it made him more fascinated by her than he'd ever been. It also stirred something within him that couldn't be calmed. It was arousal—not just sexual, but, more importantly, cerebral. Amy Farrah Fowler was a puzzle, and there was not a time in his life when she wasn't going to keep him on his toes. Instead of being frustrated or worried about this, he was energized, excited, and eager to get started.

Sheldon couldn't wait to see her again. He would do anything to get her back, and he had a short window of time to get it done. Two days before they were officially broken up. No time to lose.

"Why are you weaving? It's onwy thwee in the afternoon," Kripke said, coming into his office. "Gabwehauser and da othews awe weady to cewebrate. We're a shoe-in for the gwant money, for suwe."

Sheldon didn't look up as he powered down his laptop and shoved it into his bag. He also didn't waste time on replying to Kripke. Grabbing the last of his stuff, he marched towards the door. He had to find Leonard and get him to take him to Amy's. He looked at his watch. 3:05 pm. No doubt, she was still at work. That gave him a few hours to get his plan in action.

Kripke grabbed his arm to get his attention. Sheldon stopped and stared down at the offending hold on his person. Kripke released him and gave an uneasy grin. "What's da rush? Wet me guess: Youwre girwfriend forgave you and is weady to hawe makeup sex?"

Something cracked inside of him. Without thought, Sheldon slammed his fist into Kripke's face, dropping him to the floor in a matter of seconds. He stepped up to him, using his impressive height to intimidate the man as he'd often seen his bullies do when he was younger.

It seemed to work as Kripke, holding his right eye, began scooting away on his butt as he stared up at Sheldon in shock. "What did you do that fow?"

Sheldon glared. "That was for being disrespectful of my girlfriend. What happens in our relationship is none of your business, understand? If you speak of her in such a way again to me or anyone else, I'll thrash you within an inch of your life." He took a menacing step forward. "Got it? I'm from Texas, and I grew up with an older brother and seven older male cousins. I'm well acquainted with the art of thrashing someone."

He didn't wait for a response. Instead, he left his office and went in search Leonard. He had a date to keep. His time was running short.

Twenty-five minutes later, the two physicists were in the car and on their way to Amy's house.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Leonard asked.

"Yes. I have considered it from all angles. I have a 98 percent chance of this functioning properly, plus or minus 3 percent."

Leonard looked over at him as if he were insane. "You worked out an equation to tell you whether or not your girlfriend would accept your apology and take you back?"

Sheldon shrugged. "Everything in the world can be condensed into an equation. Surely you, as a physicist, know that?" He stared at his best friend for confirmation.

"OK." Leonard agreed with a shrug. "Mathematics aside, what is your backup plan?"

"Whatever it takes."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I have brought several back up plans taking in a variety of variables. I am sure one of them is going to work."

"But what happens if she won't listen?"

The mere thought of that left him paralyzed with fear. He closed his eyes and took a fortifying breath. It was the lone variable he couldn't overcome. No, he told himself. It won't happen. You'll get her back.

He had a great imagination, always had, but he simply could not ponder a future for him without Amy in it. The idea of it pushed him toward a realm he was sure was close to insanity, but telling himself over and over again that he would get her back was what had kept him safe on the side of logic and reason.

"She will take me back. She has to do so." His voice brooked no argument on this quarter.

They pulled up to her apartment a few minutes later.

"Do you need me to come back to get you?" Leonard asked.

"Amy will bring me home, or I'll take the bus. I don't know how long this will take. I've never apologized like this before." Sheldon said, getting out of the car.

"But she won't be home from work for another two hours. Are you sure you want to be dropped off this early?"

"I need time to prepare and to practice. Besides, I have an extra key to her apartment. I'll let myself inside."

"She's not going to like that. Remember when we used Penny's spare key to go into her apartment without her permission to clean things up?"

Sheldon shivered at the memory. "I'll be fine. Factoring in her anger at my invasion of her privacy, I still have a 96 percent chance of achieving my objective, plus or minus 3 percent."

"But what if she—"

Sheldon knew his friend was trying to be helpful, but he was only succeeding in making Sheldon more nervous. "I assure you, I have considered every variable. I will be fine." He slammed the door. "I have no wish to talk to you about this anymore, Leonard. Go home."

He turned his back on his best friend and entered Amy's apartment building. It didn't matter what Leonard said. He was more than prepared to handle anything that came up. Sheldon would not fail. He wouldn't.

He couldn't.

Sheldon took the elevator to third floor and was getting off to go to her apartment when he heard her speak. His supreme hearing catalogued the divine sound of her voice and told him she was approximately ninety seconds from encountering him. What was she doing home? Why wasn't she at work? This wasn't how it was supposed to go. If she saw him now, everything would be ruined. Without thought, he jumped behind a large ficus tree located in a convenient corner away from the elevator.

He thanked genetics for providing him with a slim, tall body because he was able to hide himself completely in the plastic, lush ficus benjamina and was still able to see her though the leaves—which he noted were in need of a thorough dusting.

Amy was wearing the pink dress he'd seen the night she'd had Leonard take her to that wedding. Moreover, her sleek hair was pulled back in a strange, twisty bun, giving her usual friendly face a severe demeanor he didn't like. Moreover, she was wearing more makeup than he'd ever seen her don before. The cherry-colored gloss was evident even from his distance.

Where was she going dressed like that? He almost gave up his hiding place to ask her. But as he was about to reveal himself, she was joined by a dark-haired man who looked to be in his early forties. The stranger was tall and lanky like Sheldon, but his skin was tanned from too much time in the sun. He had what Penny would have called "Movie-star good looks" and was illogically wearing aviator sunglasses, even though he was clearly still inside a building.

What is this? Reason fought for control. Calm down. Maybe Mr. Movie Star lives in the building and just happens to be catching the elevator at the same time as Amy.

This theory was blown out of the water the second the George Clooney wannabe put his hulking hand around Amy's waist and brushed a kiss against her temple.

"Don't worry, Amy. I won't let anything happen to you," the man assured her. "Tonight's gonna be fun. With me, you know it's bound to be."

Amy gave him a small smile.

Sheldon felt like someone punched him in the stomach. The world around him turned scarlet as his hands fisted at his sides.

The elevator dinged, and the two stepped inside. Two seconds later, they were gone. Sheldon blinked and stumbled out of his hiding spot.

Amy was going on a date. With someone else. Amy was dating someone else. It couldn't be. But there it was. He'd seen it with his own eyes. He looked down at the bag wrapped around his midsection. All of his plans for tonight were ruined. He thought he'd considered every variable.

A cackling, little voice laughed gleefully in his head. Not this one, you didn't. His lungs were closing in on him. It became a battle to breathe.

The smile she'd given the guy replayed in Sheldon's mind. That's my smile. My smile. My Amy. My woman. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Something must be done. He didn't know what, but he knew something had to be done and soon before Amy allowed that obvious Neanderthal to do something worse to her. Like hold her hand or kiss her on the lips or … His brain stuttered. Or have coitus.

No! Not happening. How could she do this to me? She just broke up with me yesterday. How can she already be seeing someone else? The voice in his head was more than willing to provide the answer.

She's smart, she's clever, and she's beautiful. Did you expect her to wait around on you forever? No woman is that patient. You were lucky to have her for as long as you did. Did you think no other man would notice what a gem she is and snatch her up?

Filled with more emotions than he could name, Sheldon whirled and marched towards her apartment. This was not to be tolerated. Something must be done. She's still mine. Legally, she's still mine.

He growled, "I keep what is mine."

His mother's voice rang in his ear over and over until his mind began to formulate a plan. She's the one. Make her listen. Do whatever you gotta do, but you get her back.

Sheldon knew this new plan was desperate and irrational and illegal. An hour ago, he would never have considered such a thing. But, then again, an hour ago Amy wasn't dating someone else. Desperate times call for desperate measures, he decided as he turned the corner and let himself into his girlfriend's apartment. Whatever it takes.

The dark line between sanity and insanity blurred more with every step he took, but Sheldon couldn't summon the energy to care.