DISCLAIMER: The Big Bang Theory belongs to Chuck Lorre, Bill Prady, Warner Bros., CBS, etc. I'm sure I've missed somebody. At any rate, none of them are me.

A/N: This story is complete, but will be posted in chapters. It takes place seasons 5 to 6-ish so some instances may change, or have changed in future seasons. However it is fan fiction, so I'm allowed some license :-)

Love Is In The Proof

Proof: 1. Mathematics, Logic. A sequence of steps, statements or demonstrations that leads to a valid conclusion.

2. The state of having been tested and approved.

1

Amy Farrah Fowler was pregnant.

Sheldon Cooper sat in his spot on the sofa staring, unseeing, as the words swirled through his mind in an endless loop: Amy's pregnant, Amy's pregnant, Amy's pregnant. His breathing hitched as he consciously tried to fight down the panic threatening to overwhelm him.

He knew when it had happened, of course. He could pin down the moment of conception to the day, hour, perhaps even the minute. Their one and only "intimate exchange," as he euphemistically thought of it to himself, had been six weeks ago, resulting in yet another relationship reset.

"Sheldon?" Amy's voice quavered. He couldn't look at her, and found himself grateful she'd insisted he sit down as his limbs were now shaking. Swallowing, Sheldon tried to speak, but no sound came out. Maybe for the first time ever. "I know this is a shock," she said, voice low and choked with emotion. She cleared her throat, and in his peripheral vision, Sheldon noted she was hunched over even more than usual. "I did the test six times, each with a separate kit, and the results were all positive."

Silence stretched for endless minutes between them, as he sat there, numb. "Say something!" Amy snapped when the tension became too great.

Licking his lips, his gaze darting everywhere but at her, Sheldon spoke softly. "I believe you told me you were taking contraceptives to regulate your monthly cycle."

"That's it?! That's what you've got?! It's not infallible you know!"

"The probability of fertilization while on contraceptives, given they were properly used, is. . ."

"Don't you dare quote me statistics! And you're pinning all this on me? You think I haven't been taking the pills consistently? How do you think I suspected I was pregnant? After I started taking contraception you could set your watch by my menstrual cycle!"

Sheldon flinched, his face twitching. He didn't like thinking about Amy's menses any more than he liked thinking about anyone's bodily functions.

"All I am saying is that statistically this is a near impossibility." He sat up straighter and looked at her for the first time since she'd asked him to have a seat on the sofa. "But then again, as a Homo Novus, I no doubt have superior sperm, capable of overcoming the effects of the most stringent contraceptives." Sheldon felt a bit of the shock start to ebb. Now that he had a logical explanation, it wasn't so unbelievable Amy could be pregnant.

He was surprised to see Amy crumple even more, wiping her eyes. Now it was she who wouldn't meet his gaze. It was baffling how she could go from yelling at him to becoming a weepy mess in a matter of seconds. Were her pregnancy hormone levels affecting her?

He knew what he should do. When Amy's feelings had been hurt by Penny and Bernadette excluding her from wedding shopping, he'd been forced to cuddle with her to cheer her up. It was all this "affection" nonsense that had gotten him into this predicament in the first place. Penny insisting Amy needed more from him than he was ready to give.

He was perfectly happy with the way things were, or rather had been. He'd see her on their date nights, or Skyping, and that was more than sufficient. When she'd temporarily moved in with him, he'd told Amy Penny was "the snake in our garden," and now she'd proven him right. He hadn't been able to withstand the combined force of Amy and Penny's pressure. They were a unified front, bent on breaking him down. Why did things have to change? And when they did, why did it have to be at such a lightening pace?

With great effort, Sheldon raised his arm, silently beckoning Amy closer. He wasn't aware she could move so quickly, but there she was, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, damp face pressed into his chest. Awkwardly, he placed his arm around her shoulders, patting her as if she were an unfamiliar dog he'd just encountered. "There, there," he said, looking around his apartment, searching for something to focus on rather than the woman secreting germ-laden tears into his t-shirt. At least it wasn't one of his favorites.

"Sheldon?" Amy snuffled, turning her head to look up at him. "What are we going to do?"

Panic gripped him again, and suddenly the discomfort he felt at her proximity was negligible. What was he supposed to tell her? Somewhere, a part of him knew he should be reassuring her things would work out, but he couldn't do it. It would be lying, and he always told the truth. His normal paradigm had shifted, the world had shifted on its axis and there was no going back.

Sheldon's breath came in short little gasps as he bolted from the couch and Amy's embrace. He began to pace the room, arms jerking as he started to reach for something, then suddenly pulled back. He began reciting the periodic table, searching desperately for a sense of calm.

He couldn't stay here. Not with her looking at him, waiting for him to produce an answer. He had to get out. He didn't know where he would go, but so long as it wasn't here, it would suffice. Grabbing his beige jacket, he was out the door before Amy could offer a protest.

xxxxxx

Amy stared blankly at the door, mouth agape. Had he really just left her there? No explanation, no nothing?

Okay, she'd known he was going to freak out, and quite frankly she'd had no idea how he was going to receive the news, but this wasn't one of the scenarios she'd imagined. Not that she had any preconceived notions. She knew what she would have liked to have happened. That she would have told Sheldon the news of his impending fatherhood, and while shocked, he would have been accepting.

"Like that would ever happen," she sighed, running a hand through her hair, rising from the sofa to make herself a cup of tea. Leonard had spent the night at Penny's, and Amy was grateful he hadn't heard, or witnessed her and Sheldon's conversation. If it could even be called that.

Making herself at home, Amy filled the red kettle and set it to heating. Pulling out the box containing an assortment of teas, she chose camomile. She started reaching for the yellow mug—the one Sheldon usually gave her—but instead, took the blue one he often used. She realized the choice came from her wish to have contact, on some level, with Sheldon. Chuckling ironically, she knew she had the ultimate connection with Sheldon, now growing inside her.

Amy hadn't really wrapped her head around the impending change in her life. She'd seen all the little plus signs on the pregnancy test kits, but it really hadn't sunk in. She'd driven over to Sheldon's in a daze, having no idea how she was going tell him. In hindsight, perhaps she should have couched the information as a question from counter-factuals: In a world where Amy Farrah Fowler is pregnant, what role does Sheldon Cooper play?

Just then the kettle began to whistle, drawing her out of her thoughts. Watching the boiling water bubble around her tea bag, Amy found herself comparing it to the turmoil now bubbling in her life. This wasn't in her plan. Sure, she'd been on track to get Sheldon into a more intimate relationship within five years, but children hadn't even been in the flow chart. Not that she'd ruled them out, she just couldn't imagine either of them working family time into their career paths.

Now, given Sheldon's reaction, she didn't have to worry about what they were going to do about about juggling work and a baby. She was going to have to come up with a plan. Her tea had cooled sufficiently to take a sip, and as Amy sampled it, she took a seat at the stool pulled up to the kitchen's island. The more she thought about her exchange with Sheldon, the angrier she became; the calming effect of the camomile negated.

Ever since the fateful night, Sheldon had been even more distant, consciously holding himself back from touching her in any manner. She'd even given him seventy-two hours notice requesting a mere holding of hands, which he managed to escape with some convoluted excuse. She'd given up mid-way through his diatribe claiming a headache to end their date early.

At first, Amy had been hopeful their night of intimacy was the beginning of a new phase of their relationship. Instead of a step forward, it had proven to be two steps back, and she wished it had never occurred. It simply hadn't been worth destroying what little progress they'd managed to achieve. And now it really wasn't worth it, she decided.

It had been an awkward encounter, to say the least. Two virgins who intellectually knew what went where, but not really sure how to get there. It wasn't fireworks or celestial choirs, that was for sure. Amy had reached satisfaction, but that was only because she felt like she'd been waiting for the moment for so long, she was half-way there just seeing Sheldon at her door on an unscheduled night.

They'd never discussed what had brought him to her apartment that night, and since the relationship reset, Amy often wondered if it had actually happened or if she'd just imagined it. She could have convinced herself it was one of her fantasies if not for the row of plus signs lined up next to her bathroom sink.

"What a nightmare," Amy sighed again, shaking her head as she finishing her tea. Sheldon had been gone for over half an hour, and she was tired of waiting, knowing it was possible he was watching her parked car to see if she'd left. Rinsing out her mug, she started washing it so she could replace it on the shelf, then thought screw it, knowing the dirty mug in the sink would drive Sheldon crazy.

Gathering her purse and coat, Amy's hand was on the knob when the door pushed open, leaving her gaping once more as she stared at Sheldon.

xxxxxx

Sheldon's gaze met with Amy's as they stood on his threshold. She looked surprised to see him, which in turn surprised him since this was his apartment. "You're leaving?" he asked, hopeful this hellish encounter had come to a conclusion.

"I was," she said, then started removing her coat.

If only I'd waited a few more minutes, she would have been gone. "Don't change your plans on my account," he said, breezing past her, shedding his jacket, then neatly hanging it on the back of his desk chair. He sat down, opening up his laptop, hoping his attention to the computer would signal his disinterest in continuing their former conversation.

Sheldon could feel Amy's presence behind him, but was determined to ignore her, tapping away at his keyboard.

"Sheldon, we need to talk."

"I don't see why," he said, staring intently at the computer's screen. "You have informed me you're pregnant, and I have digested this information. I'm not sure what else you require of me."

"What else I require of you?! I require that you man up and take some of the responsibility in this!"

Sheldon sat up straighter, turning slightly, but still not fully facing Amy. "Are you certain I'm the father?" He heard a strangled gasp, causing him to look up to see Amy's shocked, then outraged expression before she burst into tears.

"How can you even ask me that?" she choked out between sobs.

"Well, I only have your word on this, now don't I? You certainly didn't protest when I. . .," he swallowed, "Made my intentions known. How do I know you don't invite men to your bed on a regular basis? After all, you've been practically begging me for coitus for months."

Sheldon felt totally disconnected from his body. As if he was watching the exchange rather than being a participant. It was almost as if he had Tourette's Syndrome and couldn't stop the vitriol he was spewing at Amy. He recognized it as a symptom of his panic, but was helpless to stop it. He wished she would just go, give him time to absorb what this all meant. He needed to talk to Leonard, and that wouldn't happen if she was still here.

Amy remained standing in the middle of his living room, tears running down her face, looking so devastated he almost went to her, but if he did, she'd either take her anger out on him physically, or break down and start clutching at him again. Neither was an option. She had to go.

"Amy. . . ."

She was grabbing her coat, jamming her arms into the sleeves with such force, Sheldon was surprised the material didn't rip. The purse was the next item to be the recipient of her ire, nearly batted across the room as she swept it up from the coffee table.

"You know what, Sheldon? I don't need you. I can do this easier on my own. In fact, if you were to participate, then I'd have two infants to take care of! Thanks for lightening the load!" With that she turned, stomping out the door, slamming it in her wake. Seconds later, it re-opened and Amy issued her parting shot. "Oh, and by the way? You can go screw yourself!" The second door slam was even louder than the first.

Sheldon rose and stood staring at his entryway, waiting for a third expletive and door slam. He almost wished she had. Now he was left hanging with only two incidents, and he was starting to twitch. There was only one thing for it. Walking to the door, he opened it, giving it a resounding push. Three. Thank God, he sighed. Suddenly, her last words came to him and he spoke to the empty room.

"Amy! Language!"