This story will be set at the end of season 7 and beginning of season 8, where Sheldon hopped on a railway journey all by himself. This is intended to be an AU Shamy multi-chap that I promised on writing. Enjoy!

Chapter One

The most enjoyable and introspective vehicular choice one must try out at least once in their lifetime is trains. High-speed trains, rapid transit trains, trolleys, everything that runs on railways always amuses him from the get-go. Don't forget the steam engines, diesel locomotives, electric trains, maglevs, monorails, and of course, the most precious ones—his collection of toy trains.

Sheldon has been proficient with trains at a very young age, and he's been riding it since he can remember. At that moment, Sheldon has got intercity trains into liking more; it was his stronghold in a confounding time of his life. Due to a recent disruption of the status quo, he distanced himself from the people and circumstances that started and worsened it all.

It's not that bad being on his own aboard trains—with a bunch of strangers—that will take you across the country. A breath of fresh air and scenic routes, alongside with hot dog stands and ketchup packets, were his best friends throughout his railway journey.

As painful as it sounded, the thought of leaving behind his friends, family, prized possessions, and a work that can pay the bills, was oddly bringing him solace. He's been like this ever since a little boy - having his own universe with him as its only resident. It didn't bother him when he was young. But now that he's gained years and years of confinement in the hands of the Heathen State, it was time to move away.

Though, not for too long.

As he tapped his fingers on the customer service counter, he thought of what he can do more and what he accomplished for the past forty-five days.

Twenty-nine states, check

At least forty-five major cities, check

More hot dog stands than the City of Pasadena and Glendale combined, check

More ketchup packets than one would have imagined, check

One heck of a train ride journey that satisfied my soul and kept my motor running, check

He got pulled out of his trance when the sound of keys jangled in front of him. A woman—in her corporate suit—proceeded to hand him his keys for his rental car and went on to babble about insurances and mileage and car safety, none of which he understood.

It was between renting a car, riding a bus, and asking his mother or sister to come and pick him up. The latter was quickly shot down by a six-month-old breastfeeding monster and a devout Christian who thought that missing at least one Sunday service would initiate a series of ungodly and sacrilegious events that would lead her to hell. Certainly, riding a bus would be the least of all. Imagine sweaty strangers squeezed up in a bus toward a Texan city.

That led him to the only option: to rent a car for the rest of his visit. The driving lesson he took almost six years ago better work or else he'll end up wrecking his car as well as his insurance. Didn't worry him a bit considering that, at times, he snooped on Leonard or Penny's car and start to familiarize himself with the mechanics.

Carrying his only baggage, he strode the remaining steps toward the automatic glass door and was struck by the air of Houston —sweltering and an odd smell of dirt. Thinking about the life he left behind in California, he unlocked the car and started doing his signature car check.

It took him an hour to drive down to Galveston despite the time of day and the amount of traffic. He arrived at the city proper by 1 o'clock and five minutes after that, he stopped in front of his childhood home. A typical family house—complete with a rocking chair and an old wooden bench by the porch, a garden filled with blooming plants from the recent spring season, and a swing, attached to a branch, where he used to formulate equations and develop his experiments as a child.

The luxury of having a second floor wasn't available when he was still living there. But due to his father's unused insurance money from when he died, his mother decided to use it for constructing a second level that has been established since.

Turning off the car engine, he grabbed his small bag and walked up the steps to the porch in the middle of a sunny day. The last he went here, there was a new addition to the clan coming out of his twin's reproductive organ.

As he gazed up the house in front of him, he felt a twinge of sadness creeping up. He was lonely and distraught and another wave of life-changing events went on his way drowning him down and making things worse and worse by the day.

Before too long, he buzzed the doorbell once—not caring too much about his compulsive knocking—and was greeted by his shocked mother.

"Oh, Sheldon!" Mary shrieked. Her mouth grew larger in shock as she witnessed her boy in front of their home. She wrapped him in her arms lovingly.

"Hello," Sheldon sheepishly answered as they parted. He grasped his bag tighter as a sign of embarrassment. Embarrassment from the not so recent fleeing from Pasadena. Embarrassment from the phone outburst he had fifteen hours ago to his mom when she quickly shot down his demand to fetch him in Houston. It was acceptable considering that he called at midnight, where everyone was asleep and doesn't want to handle any bullcrap.

"Come in! Come in!" she offered. "I didn't expect you to go with your plan, Shelly." Mary moved to give way to Sheldon.

"This is an impromptu visit, Mom," he started, "I saw that Houston was one of the train stops, so I decided to stop by here for a while." Sheldon carried on to place his bag on the floor and seated on his spot that he'd since left behind.

"How long is a while, baby?" Mary questioned, trailing Sheldon to his seat.

"Probably four days… maybe five. I don't know," he weakly informed, unsure of the duration of his stay. His display of unwillingness didn't escape to Mary.

"Stay right there. I'll get you something to drink," she insisted, noticing Sheldon's unnerved demeanor.

"Just cold water, please."

He watched his mom as she rounded the corner to their kitchen. On his own, he inspected the new interior of his childhood home and compared it to their previous one he's used to. This'll never get old, he thought, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Here ya go." Mary emerged from the kitchen, glass on her hand. His thirst overpowered, and he mindlessly snatched the proffered water from his mother's hand.

"Easy there," his mother said, rubbing his back as he tilted his head backward to chug. He was done in seconds, not minding the lone water droplet that rolled down his neck.

Sheldon placed the glass on the coffee table and proceeded to wipe his mouth with his arm like a rugged man.

"You sure are thirsty, baby," Mary drawled, still patting his son's back.

"I am," Sheldon merely replied, his head drawn down to his knees.

"Ya don't sound so good, Shelly," Mary pointed out warily. Just as she witnessed Sheldon at the front door, he looked like he's not himself. Bloodshot eyes and dark bags surrounding his eyes, stubble that Mary rarely sees, and his raspy voice that barely had a word.

"I'm here to discuss something," he raised his head up, trying to keep determined a face amidst his weary state. That didn't work past Mary.

"Why don't ya lie down for a while," Mary ordered resolutely. She rose up and paused in confidence, waiting for Sheldon to obey her wishes.

"But, Mom—"

"No buts, Mister! What ya have to tell will have to wait… Not until ya get some sense into ya," Mary crossed her arms on her chest, chiding him on his life choices but doing so as not to harsh for his younger son. Tough but fondly.

"If you say so," Sheldon surrendered unmistakably. He aimed to look undeterred, too, but he's just genuinely exhausted from everything that arguing his mother would just mean unconsciousness for him.

He stood up with wobbly feet—relieved when he didn't pass out right then and there—and excused himself from his mother. He walked the remaining steps in the hall in with his vision doubling from fatigue. Next thing he knew, he landed on the mattress, body down, and was out.

Sheldon roused from his sleep due to the afternoon heat. Bathing in his own sweat, he carried his head up and noticed his air conditioning unit turned off since the day he left it six months ago. Drat! Now he's soaked in sweat and a dull throbbing in his head.

He pushed himself out of bed and approached the air conditioning unit to power it on. He stood there for a while, sucking in all the cold air to cool down his body. Since his clothes were drenched in sweat, he haphazardly removed it—from shirt to down to his socks—and dashed for his bathroom for a much needed wash.

The cold bath alleviated his internal temperature, but not the external force heating up his body. He remembered; it was the beginning of summer. And he visited East Texas, out of all states, nonetheless.

What a good way to celebrate the season! he derisively thought as he went out of the room, wearing the only clothing that both fitted him and, at the same time, laundered spotless. He has to take it in that all he brought for the forty-five-day trip was only good for three change of clothes and donning an old shirt from his 20's that he inadvertently left in Texas was a good enough choice.

Entering the kitchen, he saw his mother— her back against him—preparing for dinner and Missy who was tending to his nephew with her bosom.

"Hey, Shelly!" Missy greeted with her heavy accent. As she snugged back her breast to her bra, she reached Sheldon and administered a one-handed hug—with a baby attached to her waist—tightly on his shoulder.

"Please don't embed your breastmilk on my shirt," Sheldon pleaded, horrified with the notion of his twin's breastmilk in contact with his skin. He scrunched his nose in multiple directions and shutting his eyes firmly, afraid of what's coming.

Missy guffawed at Sheldon's meaningful appeal. He's still the same, she surmised. Despite Sheldon being adamant and tedious at times, Missy allocated a portion of her to understand and support her twin. She can't go wrong in joining sides with him seeing that her brother wouldn't hesitate on defending her. Naturally, there are a lot of deciding factors for Sheldon to consider before backing up his sister, but still.

"Why's that funny?" he hysterically chided. The outburst prompted his nephew's change of emotion—from observant, neutral baby to sobbing and tightening his grip on his mommy.

"Oh, Noah. It's alright," Missy cooed, rubbing her son back and bouncing him up and down gently. "It's just Uncle Shelly."

"It's Uncle Dr. Cooper," he corrected but was taken aback when Noah's soft, innocent face radiated through his heart. "I'm sorry, No," he apologized, awkwardly patting Noah's head.

"It's okay, Uncle Shelly," Missy said in a baby voice as though Noah was speaking. She danced the baby, occasionally teasing Sheldon by drawing Noah closer, which elicited a giggle from the infant.

"I'll let that slip," he tolerated. Now the kid's smiling, he thought when Noah flashed him a toothless grin. "but once he talks, you're teaching him my preferred title," he demanded and walked passed them to sit down on the dining chair.

"Okay, whatever, Uncle Shelly," Missy dismissed. She turned back to the kitchen and started conversing with their mother.

"Shelly, set the table please," Mary ordered from the kitchen as she was finishing up their dinner for the night.

Sheldon grumbled and dragged his feet across the room to begin with his task. "I'm not someone else's servant," he murmured, which got Mary and Missy's eyes rolling to his petulance.

When dinner was served and subsequently blessed, everyone started with their array of conversations. Missy with her husband, Jacob, who arrived minutes just before the prayer. Mary with the couple. Mary and the baby. Missy and Jacob and the baby. But no, not Sheldon.

He was oddly keeping it to himself—just nodding yes or none at all. The urge to talk and lecture and correct and educate others by his word of mouth was not that powerful. He'd rather eat his meal than engage in endless jibber jabber that is his family members.

Mary and Missy noticed it. Jacob, not so much. Definitely not Noah, no. The women in his life knew him so well that Sheldon visiting Texas was either forced by Mary or Meemaw, or he's in a pickle that he can't handle himself properly.

Of course he would just visit, but they were aware that he'll never talk unless he's asked to. Much like the spring break of '93—his second year in college. It was the first time he went home—on his own free will—for a spring break without his family even asking to. He just showed up, indifferent as ever, and started locking himself in his room. It wasn't until three days after that Mary talked to him and learned about him coming in second in a Social Science elective he took because there were no other electives left. And the kid was a history major in a university with a strong emphasis on natural sciences, no less.

The wasted three days could have prevented an outburst from Sheldon that harmed his mother and the innocent Missy who was just eavesdropping the conversation. He thrashed and flailed his whole body endlessly. Mary and his ever so prying sister kept him from hurting himself by keeping his arms together but to no avail; he was just so strong than Missy and Mary. If it wasn't for his father and brother, who were much larger men than he was, it could have been worse for everybody.

That's why when everybody settled out and the events of the night dwindled down, Mary knew she was going to talk to him in a few moments. She heated up the tea kettle and waited for it to boil in silence. In the background, Sheldon was still sitting in his chair, mindlessly moving around his phone. He's old to enough to know that Mary, without doubt, will try to talk to him. Either he's gonna accept the advice or be adamant as he'll ever be.

"What tea would you like?" Mary asked, her back against him.

"Chamomile, please," he answered, detached to the notion that chamomile was supposed to be his sleepy time tea and not his we've-got-something-to-talk-about tea.

"Y'all wanna talk?" Mary said as she sat down in front of him. She slid down the cup to his waiting hands and lingered on her tea for a while.

"Do we have to?" Sheldon dismissed. His hands enveloped around the mug, the heat comforting him as though telling that he's gonna be okay.

"We need to."

Next chapter will be published tomorrow. Let me know what you think!