Chapter Text
Clara was glad she could escape the hospital for a bit. She took the bus to the Rose and Crown, where she met Malcolm last night, to get her bike and cycle home. Once home she immediately took a long and hot shower and dressed herself in something more comfortable to spend the time at the hospital. Then she looked for some old clothes of her dad for Malcolm to wear instead of that horrible hospital shirt. Right before leaving she picked up some biscuits because she could imagine the hospital food being awful. Then she jumped on her bike again and cycled back to the hospital. When she arrived at Malcolm’s door she could hear voices; Malcolm’s and a woman’s, so she went up to a nurse to ask if she could enter the room. “Doctor Song, the psychiatrist, is there for his therapy, maybe it’s better to leave them alone for a bit,” she spoke in a kind voice. “Thank you,” Clara smiled and she sat herself in a chair next to Malcolm’s door until he and the woman would be finished, the bag with clothes and food at her feet.
After a little while, the voices behind Malcolm’s door started to grow louder, yet not loud enough to hear what they’re saying. Clara tried to listen hard but then Malcolm’s voice came loud and clear: “Stay out of my life! I have someone else I can confide in, I don’t need you!” Clara couldn’t help but smile. The psychiatrist’s voice was a little less loud, but still very clear: “You need someone a bit farther from you and someone who will always be there.” At that moment, Clara could just feel Malcolm break. She expected a raging answer but nothing came. After a few seconds she heard his voice vaguely, barely audible, and immediately after, the psychiatrist. The next thing that happened made Clara jump out of her chair and run into the room. Malcolm’s voice sounded louder and clearer than ever and to her horror, a few tones higher than he usually spoke. “I BELIEVE IN HER. I TRUST IN HER. GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” When she entered the room, Malcolm was frantically wiping away angry tears while a wild-curled blonde woman was leaning on the windowsill, looking appalled.
Clara sat next to him on the bed and flung her arms around Malcolm but he tried to push her away, accidentally hitting her nose with his fist in his attempt, but Clara didn’t let go that easily. Instead she pulled him closer to her and whispered “I will never ever let you go.” Finally Malcolm relaxed and wrapped his arms around her small frame and rested his head on her shoulder. “I’ll just go then,” doctor Song’s voice suddenly came, “I’ll be back tomorrow.” Clara had completely forgotten about her in her attempts to calm Malcolm down. “No,” she said, planting a kiss in Malcolm’s hair and letting him go, “I want to talk to you.” She felt determined, because she didn’t want Malcolm being pushed too far and lose the tiny bit of confidence to open up he had already gained. The kind blue eyes of the woman pierced into hers and for a minute she didn’t feel very brave anymore, but led the psychiatrist out of the room anyway.
“Mister Tucker –“ doctor Song started, but Clara interrupted her. “Look, I don’t want you to push Malcolm too far. I made a deal with him and as you heard, he trusts me. He has a tough life and I don’t want his life to be more difficult because people keep forcing him to talk.”
“He needs proper therapy, miss,” the psychiatrist answered in a friendly voice, “but I’m curious to hear your deal.” Clara took a deep breath. “We agreed that he will tell me when something is wrong but doesn’t necessarily need to say what it is.” She saw doctor Song considering her for a moment and her heart dropped. She didn’t want Malcolm to go on with the therapy if this happened every day. “Look,” she started again, “I know I’m not an expert but Malcolm just isn’t ready to talk about his feelings yet. I don’t want people to push him.”
“Why do you care so much for him?” doctor Song asked, a concerned expression on her face, “you’ve only just met him and he nearly attacked you.” Clara folded her arms. Why did she care so much? “I don’t know,” she said hesitatingly, looking at the floor, “he was all alone, no one to look after him, he looked like a mess and it broke my heart.” When she looked back up she noted a hint of sadness in the psychiatrists eyes. “All alone,” she mumbled, but then she took a deep breath and looked determined. “I agree with your deal,” she started, and Clara felt a weight lift from her shoulders, “but I still want to go on with the therapy.” Clara had opened her mouth already but doctor Song cut her short. “But if you both agree, you can stay with him when we’re talking. Mister Tucker’s wishes are the most important at the moment, we should listen to him.” Clara felt so happy she had to hold back herself from hugging doctor Song. “Shall we go and tell him?” the wild-curled woman asked.
Clara picked up the bag she had left under the chair she had sat on earlier and entered the room with doctor Song. Malcolm’s eyes were closed but Clara was pretty sure he wasn’t asleep. “I’ll just go,” doctor Song whispered, “you tell him what we agreed on. I’ll be back around the same time tomorrow.” She smiled and left the room.
Clara sat on Malcolm’s bed, stroking his hair when he opened his eyes. A soft smile appeared on his face, but it was not his full smile. “Are you okay?” she asked, locking eyes with him. “Sure,” he said, lifting his hand and distractedly stroking Clara’s cheek, “I need a drink.” For Clara it was the sign something was wrong. “It is better to talk about your problems than just drinking them away,” she whispered. “Not yet,” Malcolm said, closing his eyes again, “just that stupid psychiatrist, bringing back old memories.” Clara took her hand away from his hair and looked at his face. Even though his eyes were closed, she could see him struggling with his thoughts and it broke her heart. This man, how little she even knew him, deserved to be happy.
“So what’s that deal she was talking about?” Malcolm asked after a while. “Oh,” Clara said, “right.” She had forgotten to tell him about their agreement. “She will continue with the therapy –“ Malcolm groaned, “- but if you want to, I can stay with you, and she also agreed with our deal.” Malcolm opened his eyes again and there was some relief in them. He grabbed Clara’s hand. “Yes, I’d love you to stay while she’s here,” he said, squeezing her hand. Clara smiled and looked at him, noticing that the hospital shirt was falling off his shoulders. “Oh, I forgot, I brought some clothes from my dad,” she said, taking the bag and holding it up to him. “Great, I’m sick of this thing, it’s too loose around my legs,” Malcolm chuckled, the hint of a crooked, playful smile around his lips. “Have you, er, brought underwear as well? They kind of removed mine.” He said while Clara was rummaging in the bag. When she looked up she saw he was blushing and she bit her lip, trying not to smile too wide. “I did,” she answered, showing him sweatpants, a loose T-shirt of some punk band her dad used to like when he was younger and a pair of boxers. Malcolm took the boxers and slipped them on under the covers of the bed. Then he took the T-shirt and sweatpants and went to the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a shower too so if you wanna go for a walk or something… feel free,” he smiled right before closing the door.
Clara left the room to stretch her legs a little. She walked up and down the corridor and went into Malcolm’s room again. The water of the shower was still running. She sat down in the armchair again, took out her phone and started browsing her Twitter, not really knowing what else to do when she heard a thud coming from the bathroom. She went to the door and knocked a few times, but Malcolm didn’t answer. “Malcolm, are you okay?” she asked, but still no answer came so she opened the door and saw him lying on the floor of the shower.