A/N: Now the weekend has passed, and a brand new week is ahead of us. Let's conquer the days, shall we? We're the pilots of our own planes, so let's fly high. I am extremely grateful for all the wonderful people inthis fandom and your beautiful support. Chatting with y'all has now became my favorite past time.
Enjoy!
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/ Disclaimer: I own nothing of The Big Bang Theory. This is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended. /
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~Chapter 7~
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Alone and I'm happy
Never offended
So independent
I'm so out of my place, what
Did I do wrong to
Be so unwanted
If I could leave I know
The kind of place I'd go
On my little island, there's no one to please
No one can hurt me and nobody leaves
I won't be a burden
Can't be insecure and
There's no one that I have to be
I sure won't be cryin'
On my little island
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—L. Lapid
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He really tried not to think of her face.
He really did.
It was sort of a pickle now that his mind launched itself in that image of Dr. Fowler returning his book.
The form of emotion that was not known to him, she wore ever so delicately yet at the same time profoundly.
The eyes are often described as the "windows to the soul" because they can convey a wide range of emotions and feelings.
Of course, these descriptions are not exhaustive and different people may interpret the emotions conveyed by the eyes differently. In his case, Dr. Cooper could not draw the right interpretation for almost all his the attempts in life.
There was a meaning behind the flash in those green orbs of shimmering light.
An unspecified meaning.
In its entirety, it was the look on her face that had given him a great deal of disturbance as it was one that reminded him of his mother. His visit to his maternal guardian was a month ago before the neuroscientist had caused him to be a madman in front of his own office.
How Dr. Fowler looked at him with a something that somewhat matched his mother's when she had seen him off.
He chastised himself with a mental slap and even a pinch to not lollygag in this foolish prolongation.
The physicist decidedly wiped his feet on the mat, determined to break loose from the tricks his mind was playing with him.
He reconciled the idea that it was only once again his imprecise reflection.
Dr. Cooper flung himself on his office chair and hauled his legs up on the coffee table. He'd been so tired lately. Another torment of his inconsistent nightmare had not given him proper rest the night before. It was a constant, paralyzing weariness that overwhelmed him and refused to let go. His headaches had also been more frequent as one gave birth to the next, forming an endless spiral that dragged him down deeper and deeper in his exhaustion. He took off his shades and cautiously massaged his temples, relieving the pain a bit. Since morning, his body was stricken with dread in approaching the neuroscientist after their 'little friction' the other day.
If he did not comply with their formal request, Dr. Cooper had no choice but to concede to the reality that he may find himself in temporary confiscation from his work. He knew the rules of the 'Suspension of University Employment' policy by heart with its criteria for "adequate cause" listed in the section.
This so-called 'cause' includes a clear level of professional incompetence, a serious breach of professional ethics, willful neglect of duty, or serious misconduct.
And willful neglect of duty was the borderline he was just about to cross over.
One that he must avoid now that he felt so attached in deriving the rigorous molecular orbital methods.
Separating him and his true love alone was a threat enough for him to change his mind.
And yet here he was– about to only march into a bigger threat: Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler.
His neck felt stiff.
He massaged the area, kneading it skillfully but not efficiently.
….So much for hoping to have another swell defecation in his lavatory.
"Good morning, Dr. Fowler, how do you do?"
"How do you do."
"Hello."
A kind smile.
"Hi."
"Jolly day to you, Miss!"
"And to you."
Not a single colleague had passed by her without saluting. As she walked through the university's gates, Dr. Fowler could feel the eyes of her male colleagues following her every move. It was read by their quick glances and their not-so-well-hidden stares. She thought to herself, I must have something stuck in my teeth or my skirt must be tucked into my underwear. Perhaps she was overthinking it because surely, anyone there would be nice enough to reveal to her before she gets humiliated. But as she looked around the office, she realized that every employee was staring at her with an intensity usually reserved for the discovery of a new planet. Amy suddenly had a hilarious thought, "Am I a unicorn? Did I grow a horn or wings overnight?" She couldn't help but chuckle to herself lightheartedly as she walked to her desk, feeling like the center of attention in a very bizarre way.
As she went on towards the administrative offices, she noticed that the glances from her colleagues persisted. She started to feel like she was in a fishbowl with everyone watching her every move.
Everywhere she went, watchful eyes trailed after her like a hawk on its prey, zeroing in on the woman.
She was now positive that there must be something on her blouse or her hair was out of place. So Amelia tried to check herself in the small mirror on her desk, but the reflection was too dim. After some searching, she found nothing out of the ordinary.
The scientist couldn't possibly understand why she was the focus of so much attention. The young woman had always tried to be professional and friendly with her colleagues, and she didn't want to create any tension in the workplace.
Anyhow, Amy was going to be set on her research– which will easily take her mind off of these droll things.
Dr. Fowler's current focus was on GABA and other inhibitory neurotransmitters, which she believed played a crucial role in regulating brain function and behavior.
One of her heroes, Eugene Roberts, was the first to report on the discovery of GABA in the brain— demonstrating gamma-Aminobutyric acid as the main inhibitory neurotransmitter in the mammalian central nervous system.
His work had revolutionized their understanding of the brain, inspiring Amy on her latest research project focused on top of his; a carefully drawn plan to demonstrate that it could slow down neural activity in a variety of animal species. Thus, she had assembled the stratagem she needed to help her investigate its effects.
For months, the young woman conducted her pioneering research; she spent countless hours in her previous laboratory, carefully analyzing samples, conducting experiments, measuring GABA levels and observing changes.
Back in her hometown, her research soon became the subject of main interest and debate, with many experts hailing her work as transformative.
She was excited to delve deeper into the mysteries of other neurotransmitters, pushing the boundaries of science and expanding the world's understanding of the brain. The neurobiologist knew that there was still so much to learn about the brain and its complex functions.
Her findings shall be groundbreaking and they shall challenge many of the prevailing theories about the brain's workings. Amy only dreamt to publish her results in an appreciable scientific journal, and the terrific, newfound study to quickly gain international recognition.
However, she was not content to rest on her laurels as she knew that there was still so much to learn about the effects on the brain. That morning, she was content to continue on her work, pushing the boundaries of science and expanding their knowledge of the human brain.
Now residing on her desk of study, she gazed outside her small window, lost in thought.
Her mind was a garden, filled with the seeds of ideas waiting to be cultivated.
"Excuse me, Dr. Fowler? I don't mean to bother you," said a chap from the other side of her door.
Her head snapped up. "Why, yes?"
The door slightly swung open and a head popped through the crack of space.
"I am here to send you a message down from the laboratory that it is now ready for disposal."
"Ah, it is? Thank you very much."
"Here are the files they had requested from me. But before you leave, do you want to come in and shortly take a sip of dew?" She motioned to a pitcher, showing her gratitude to the man running the errand.
He visibly grinned, shyly looking away while he shook his head. "Oh no, I'm more than fine. I'm strong, you don't have to worry about me, doll."
She involuntarily recoiled at the last word. The word alone was something she'd seldom been referred to as, except it wasn't the name that made her shrunk back, but it was rather how he said it.
"Ahem, well, again, thank you very much. I suppose I should go now." She stood at once, her materials cradled in her hands.
Picking up her satchel, Amy sidestepped around the chap who was still at her door and flew down the hall. "Please do close the door before you leave, I appreciate it!"
The last time he'll hear from her, she says?
What a funny thing. Now that Dr. Cooper was heading towards the office that belonged to the only fantastical neuroscientist in the entire institution. Presently, the young lady was the last person he wanted to come across, and that meant something. Because as of thirty-five hours ago, that individual on the bottom of his list had been Barry Kripke. He made an audible humph. It was senseless for those people in the higher ups to push him in this ungainly situation. What am I going to say to her? His mind wandered. She had told him that she would not see him, yet he was on his way to her like a miracle worker. The physicist knew that she might think he was silly to be going to her in the initiative after making it clear to her how he did not want to be in her premises. What if she does not want to work with me? He panicked. Like a cherry on top, this will surely be a damage to his image. However, why was he caring about this impression? Dr. Cooper never had an ounce of contemplation for how others thought of him. All he ever knew was that he was simply in a whole different track, and that he was his only person he ever believed in– it was all that mattered to him.
But he acknowledged that he could be in deep waters if Dr. Fowler objected to their proposal. Hell, his proposal. If there was anyone who should be deserving to amass an ally, it would be him. Anyone should be ecstatic to work with his brilliance, he thought in vain.
As he was nearing her door, his heart skipped a few beats. The inexperienced physicist held his breast in surprise once the unplug of emotion gravely unnerved him. Okay, this was getting out of hand. He needed to regain his control of his body and thoughts now, or else he'd die a slow death of an illness he was not sure of (if her rejection did not rob him of his life first).
With his head hovering above the silver sign on her door, he lifted his hand to begin his knocking ritual (a habit of his since he was a young buck). But on the spot, Dr. Koothrappali was walking past with a clipboard and a miniature model rocket.
"Um, what are you doing?" The foreign scientist questioned, finding it peculiar to see his lone wolf slash hermit crab of a friend there by the new employee's study.
The tall man reacted with a start as if he had not wished to be caught by an act.
"Dr. Koothrappali," he acknowledged, licking his dry lips.
His eyes moved from his coworker, to the door, then back to his coworker. Perhaps it was his Christian upbringing, but the man did not intend to lie to his friend. Another reason could probably be that he was also a terrible liar and a secret keeper.
"If I may not be mistaken, although I do admit I do not contain full expertise in these kind of formalities, I find that your curiosity to my affairs at hand— which does not concern you, the viewer— is not well accepted. As an outsider, you are peeking into the inner circle of another individual's circumstance, and this may be perceived as 'rude.'" Dr Cooper let out.
Right. This was the proper way to do it: go through every pressing situation with a rule book. In his life, this was always handy to him.
Rajesh's eyes were slit with suspicion and his lips were molded into a pout.
After a second or two, the other man sputtered at last, taking away the growing trepidation from Dr. Cooper's shoulders and the sweat from his brow.
"Oh my goodness," The astrophysicist expressed, his accent singing the words. "Rude? No, no, I promise I wasn't being so on purpose."
He fell for it. Oh ho, the sucker.
"I am not doing this again, so please, please do not tattle-tale to Mrs. Davis. A while ago, I tried a similar thing to one receptionist down the lobby. You know, just being friendly and all… attempting my one hundred and sixtieth time soberly speaking to a girl, but no biggie.. somehow it came off a bit creepy."
Dr. Cooper returned the gaze with confusion. Where was all this coming from?
"Because… I had to say it right before she used the facilities– 'hey,'" a dramatic pause then he finished by leaning in with his suave voice, 'whatcha doing?'"
The theoretical physicist sighed by the expected idiocy of the other fellow.
"Yet you were able to talk to Dr. Fowler," Dr. Cooper said.
"Yes, because I took a little sip of martini that day." Rajesh replied as if it was fairly obvious. "And I don't need to be told again that I am rude, it hurts."
What versatility for his peer to be discordant in first, then be followed by the sensitivity of a small rabbit.
The solemn physicist only nodded with a mimicry of a judgmental look, not easing off the other man in relenting his sulk.
"Okay, I'm going to quench my pain by shooting this rocket out of the testing areas." Dr. Koothrappali told him, leaving the tall man by himself at Amy's office.
Well, let's forget that this trivial thing had happened and go back to important matters at hand, Dr. Cooper thought.
Refocusing back to his quest with his face close to the solid wooden stile.
Lifting his fist steadily on the surface, he withdrew his knuckle to begin the motion….
As Amy dipped a cue tip in a saline solution, she began to gently rub it to the surface of the microscope eyepiece lens. She started from adding ethanol to a cotton swab and then drying with a cotton swab. As these motions continued, she pondered about how she'd start her unearthed experiment. First thing first, she had already chosen the appropriate design, checked; obtained ethical approval from the institutional review board, checked; installed lab monkeys as participants, checked; prepared the EEG machine ensuring that it is calibrated correctly, checked. The next thing Amy had to do was to measure GABA concentration by the execution before getting down to the nitty-gritty part of her work. The good stuff and her favorite part: data analysis, interpretation of results, and report writing.
Cozying herself up on her swivel chair, she swished her buttocks side to side before sinking into the cuddle of the soft cushion. Ah, nothing beats this. This was the life. Now she could finally claim that this moment was hers and hers alone to spend, peace and quiet. Caltech's lab, her new happy place.
Just as she was about to wiggle her hands into the dark blue gloves, Amy heard a sound that she had not recognized to be the dawn of her doom.
Knock,
Knock,
Knock,
Dr. Fowler?
Knock,
Knock,
Knock,
Dr. Fowler.
Knock,
Knock,
Knock…
Dr. Fowler.
Spinning her chair to a 180 degree, she looked up to see someone outside the lab's window. The neurobiologist physically restrained a squeak from her mouth when she stared at the man whom she did not think to see so soon. Dr. Cooper was on the other side, looking back at her with the shared expression of slightly agape. He carried the same magnetic aura of self-assurance. He was a picture of confidence, from his well-groomed appearance to his powerful body language. Not to mention, the strong tapping on the transparent glass that was loud enough to call the Von Trapp children for supper.
A million ideas clouded her train of thought at once. Why is he down here? She blinked. Perhaps he mistook her for someone else. Perhaps he was asking for her permission to borrow some equipment. Fiddlesticks. What would a scientist like him need her equipment for?
"Oh, Dr. Cooper," she voiced a second bit too late,
"Dr. Fowler," he replied.
Again, silence.
Why on earth was he standing there for?
If his gaze were up, he'd surely notice her sitting on her chair ever so still.
It was quite unexpected, to say the least, to see the last person she prayed not to meddle with. Yet he was right there, right then. Only eight feet away from her place.
And what was that style of knocking? She never ever spectated such a kind, and was peaked by this seemingly need for repetition. There was that other tickle in her brain to observe this somewhat guise of obsessive compulsive disorder.
It seemed as if he was conjuring a plan. Amelia was almost certain it was one about getting rid of her, however, she was about to hold her ground and set her feet before him. Dr. Fowler was not up and about in taking the crumbs of anyone's leftovers.
When he finally looked up, that confidence almost faltered as her temperature began rising, alluding her to respire.
Dr. Cooper had his own beads of sweat, nonetheless, he wrapped himself with strong features.
"Dr. Fowler, may I have a word with you?"
Another blink that she swore she could almost hear.
"R-right. Yes, please come in."
Before he took a step, he added, "Are there any dangerous chemicals looming in the air inside?"
"Uh." she replied with incredulity. Of course not, she'd like to say. Otherwise, she'd be wearing a clinical mask or would be passed out on the floor, poisoned by now. "No."
However, that did not stop him to give another second of thought before welcoming himself inside her laboratory.
"So," she slowly drew the vowel out. "What is it that you care to share, sir?"
For some reason, Amy was now watching Dr. Cooper fixing the cuffs of his sleeves.
"I…" He began.
"Yes?"
Then he started again.
"Well, you see– I…"
"Mm."
Was she going to hear an apology from the conceited man?
Had he realized his vain deeds?
Waiting in anticipation had not been a wise idea to be prepared in receiving the sentence that was about to come next. Oh boy, how boundlessly wrong her perception had been.
"President Seibert and the rest of the representatives of science had formally given a message to the both of us."
Amy's face fell.
"And it is..?" She was at the edge of her seat.
A deep sigh was heard.
"By the request of the largest science organization, AAAS, we are enforced to work together as an obligatory de rigueur."
The neuroscientist steadied her foot on the desk leg to brake her from slipping down her seat.
No...
She bit her tongue from exclaiming a 'what?!' to the other professional being.
Her train of thought was so scrambled that she had to catch them all in a net, putting all the pieces back together.
For a profession like his... partnering and combining efforts with a profession like hers... it just could not add up right.
Did he agree to this? She thought he did not like her, so she reciprocally did not like him as well.
Amy tried her best to not show any of her true feelings on her face, thinking that he'd easily read them.
But little did she knew that he too was busy with the troubles of his own.
They were both stuck in their whirlpool as they faced one another.
More and more, their walls of logic and sensibility... was slowly crumbling down.
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"I am more of a threat to my own heart than anyone else could be."
—S.L. Gray
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