THE CONNECTION REGENERATION

Summary: When Sheldon gets back from his travels, his inner search is far from over. And his is not the only one. His return is only the beginning of a whole new complicated journey for Pasadena's favorite power couple.

A/N: I know way too well that everyone and their grandmother are having a go at writing their version of Sheldon's return and its aftermath, and, for several reasons, I said to myself that I would not go anywhere near this topic. What can I say? I'm weak. I have been thinking of writing a specific kind of Shamy story for a while and it turned out that the season seven finale actually works very well as a trigger for the events I had in mind for that story. So, with a little bit of twisting, here it begins. I hope I will have the willpower to see it through to the end, as I expect this to be pretty long. Wish me luck because I'll need it!

I don't own TBBT or any of its characters. Otherwise there would be no corner to write Shamy out of in the first place.

Prologue

Sheldon really regretted not having the presence of mind to bring his noise-cancelling headphones on this trip.

The station was loud. The chatter, the clinking of cups and cutlery and the seemingly never-ending sound of screaming children and rolling suitcases seeped into his brain, making it harder and harder to concentrate on the task at hand.

He clasped his hands over his ears in an attempt to block out the sounds as much as possible, and he squinted down at his laptop, perusing the Excel spreadsheet open in front of him, rows of red, yellow and green cells filling the whole page.

He was filled with dismay when he realized that, once again, none of the rows contained enough green to make his next decision any easier. He moved the cursor to select the ones with the most number of green cells, but all that resulted in was a smaller list of seemingly irresolvable comparisons.

"Claw-footed bathtub or a wet-room… Bathing inside a monster or inside nothing at all. What happened to good old reliable middle grounds?"

"Go somewhere with a forecast for 93% humidity or somewhere with 105 degrees and danger of wildfires. Basically live like Aquaman or the Human Torch…"

"Direct train in first class but wait in this hellhole for 3 hours or take a train in second class which will use up twice as many segments on my rail pass, or take overnight train in a shared compartment… One can never win."

Sheldon brought his browser back to the forefront, surveying the long row of tabs open, none of them providing any useful solution. With a frustrated sigh, he was about to open a new one and initiate yet another search, when a family of five approached him with the full intention of setting up camp at his table.

Sheldon stared at the small group for a moment, indignantly open mouthed, before confronting them. "Excuse me!"

The mother, a petite woman cradling a slobbering and screaming baby in a strap against her chest, flopped down first into one of the chairs, and only then finally acknowledged him. "Oh, I am sorry… are these seats taken?"

Sheldon puffed out his chest slightly. "Technically speaking no. Those seats aren't taken. The table however, is, as you can see." He gestured to his belongings on the table.

The woman shared a glance with her husband, who scanned Sheldon up and down while continuing to set their bags down next to their seats. "Well, there seems to be plenty of space for everyone."

Sheldon braced himself against the table. "But I was here first!"

"The only other table available is too small for our family." The man pointed across to a tiny, two-chair table covered in sandwich wraps and spilled take-away cups.

Sheldon jumped up, startled, as the eldest child of the couple, a boy in his early teens, peeked over his shoulder. His French fries breath, hot over Sheldon's ear, made Sheldon shudder in disgust.

"Is that your girlfriend?" the boy pointed at the screensaver and Sheldon managed to push the laptop away just before his greasy finger made contact with the screen.

"I would request that you refrain from bringing your filthy appendices anywhere near my belongings!"

The boy was momentarily taken aback by Sheldon's language, but then just stared him down, a smirk appearing on his face. "She looks like a dork…"

In the blink of an eye, Sheldon was up from the chair, towering over the boy and making him back away a few steps. "You take that back!"

"Andrew! Don't be rude!" the mother grabbed the boy by the arm and pulled him away from Sheldon.

"But it's true! And so does he!" the kid whined.

Sheldon felt his palms get clammy and his chest constrict with anger, but just as he was about to burst into a rant, his attention was drawn to a little voice calling at him from across the table.

"We have the same t-shirt…" the smaller boy, about four years of age, sing-sung, pointing at himself and then at the physicist.

Sheldon, distracted by the observation, felt his anger dissipate slightly and he smiled at the boy. "We do. You have excellent fashion sense, young man."

The calm was only momentary, however, because Sheldon soon realized what it was that the little boy's lips were happily sipping away at. "That is my milkshake!"

The father swiftly ripped the cup away from the child's grasp, causing him to start crying, and reached for a clean straw before presenting the drink back to Sheldon. "I'm sorry, sir…"

Sheldon's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "Like I'm going to drink your offspring's spit!" he exclaimed.

"Fine, I will buy you a new one…"

"No, no, no! You win! Your invasion is complete." Sheldon started hastily gathering his stuff and relocating to the smaller table, shouting over his shoulder. "The table is all yours, you troglodytes!"

After he got rid of the garbage and thoroughly cleaned the surface, and his hands, with half a bottle of hand-sanitizer, he collapsed into the chair just in time to see his laptop's screen go black, the battery completely drained, taking three and a half hours of his careful planning with it.

Sheldon looked across the room in despair, as the obnoxious eldest son, now occupying his previous seat, happily swiped his greasy hands all over a tablet, plugged into the only electric socket of the whole cafe.

He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself down. "It's ok, Sheldon. It's ok. You are the master of your own emotions. You are in control. You are not overwhelmed. You are in control." He muttered to himself.

He opened his eyes again, only to stare at his own reflection in the glossy screen of his computer, the dark circles under his eyes evident even when reflected against the darkened surface.

If his impromptu trip had been a welcome relief for his overwhelmed system during the first two or so weeks, the more he moved around, the more his need for order had started to catch up with him. Planning his next move had become increasingly draining with each passing day.

"I left because I needed time and space to think! THINK!" he cursed his own reflection. "These conditions are not conducive to THINKING! I need peace and quiet and comfort and cleanliness!"

A tray of food was set down across from him as his companion took the empty seat, munching on a potato chip. "So… where to next?"

Sheldon didn't even look up to acknowledge the question. He just kept staring at his tired reflection, his shoulders slumped. "I need peace and quiet and comfort and cleanliness…"

A/N: Here we are…. The, somewhat short, prologue is up. It took me longer than I expected to finally post it because a) the first three chapters are really hard to write and b) posting means I'm committing myself to finish this, which, in my current state of mind about the show, is a big commitment indeed. Special thanks to Marina, Lio, Andy and Chloe for the feedback and giving me the confidence to go ahead and post this, because it's unlikely I would have had otherwise!

*jingle*