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Except for the messy-haired guy at the bar, Clara and her friends were alone in the café. Her friends, who were all a little tipsy, giggled while looking at the barkeeper. Clara could not disagree that the guy was kind of cute, but as the only one who didn’t drink, she at least didn’t get a fit of giggles when he looked over at them. “I’ll get us some drinks!” one of her friends announced, but almost fell when standing up. “Yeah, best not, I’ll get some,” Clara laughed. When she walked over to the bar, the barkeeper looked up and smiled at her. “Sorry for them,” Clara said. “I get them a lot, the barkeeper answered, “I’m Danny, by the way.”
“Clara,” she replied, “err, do you have alcohol-free beer?”
“A bit sick of being the only sober one?” he chuckled, “we sure do.”
“Don’t laugh at me because I don’t drink,” Clara winked, eyeing the silver-haired man next to her, who appeared to be sleeping “I think it’s a wise decision.” But in that moment the man’s head shot up. “Don’t look at me like that, I was fucking innocent!” Clara took a few steps back, almost falling over one of the high chairs. “I – I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to –“ she began, but it was too late, the man stood up. Clara was terrified by him. His face looked ghostly, his eyes in deep, dark sockets and his cheeks hollow. The three-day stubble didn’t do much good to the sight. Her friends joined her quickly, but it wasn’t necessary, as soon as the man took one step he sunk through his knees on the floor, where he started vomiting. “Malcolm, fuck!” Danny shouted, running from behind the bar, but the man’s eyes started rolling like mad while he was choking on his own puke. “Shit,” Clara breathed, sinking down next to him and lifting his upper body. “Someone, call an ambulance -” she shouted, tears evident in her eyes. Danny took out his mobile immediately. “- and someone get down here to support his head,” she continued. She was terrified that he would choke, even though she didn’t know him. “But – he’s vomiting,” one of her friends said with a disgusted expression on her face. “Yeah but you don’t want him to die, do you?!” Clara screamed, tears rolling down her cheeks. Danny sunk on his knees and took Malcolm’s head. “They’re on their way,” he said softly, “he’ll be fine.” His reassuring voice made Clara calm down a little. “Does he have a family?” she asked. Danny shook his head, looking down sadly. “They all abandoned him when he was imprisoned for a crime he didn’t even commit, that’s why he has a drinking problem.” Normally Clara hated drunk people, but she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. She looked down at his ghostly face, which now looked peaceful. His eyes were closed and his mouth slightly open. Her eyes travelled over his body – his chest, rising and falling quickly. Not very healthy, but at least breathing. Dressed in a shirt, the top two buttons undone, full of his own vomit. His belly, too thin for a man his age. His legs, in tight jeans, a bit short for the rest of his body. It made Clara smile a little. “Do you have a wet towel or something?” she asked Danny when she moved her eyes back to Malcolm’s face, noticing the puke in his stubble, “so we can clean him up a little.” Danny stood up and came back a little while later with a bucket full of warm water and a bunch of towels.

As she was wiping Malcolm’s face, Clara heard the sirens of the ambulance. “Finally!” she sighed in relief. Danny ran outside to guide the paramedics inside. Clara hurried out of the way when five men in fluorescent suits kneeled next to Malcolm, tearing open his shirt. His chest looked pale and thin, Clara could see all of his ribs sticking out and it made her uncomfortable. One of the paramedics took out a stethoscope while the other fiddled with an oxygen mask. A third man put something on Malcolm’s finger. “Oxygen in his blood is low,” he muttered to the man who was adjusting the mask on Malcolm’s face. Clara worriedly looked at the scene. She smiled when Danny came standing next to her and took her hand. “Why don’t you just deny him any drinks?” Clara asked carefully, looking at Danny, who chuckled. “Oh, you don’t know him. He can be very unpredictable and very aggressive, he gave me a black eye and a broken nose once because I didn’t want to serve him any more alcohol and told him to leave.” Her eyes widened but Danny merely smiled. “I think he has a tough life.” Clara swallowed “Do you think I can go with him?” she asked softly. He squeezed her hand. “Sure.” Meanwhile the paramedics rummaged around his body and lifted him on a stretcher. “Can I accompany him?” Clara asked the man closest to her. “But, Clara, you don’t even know that man!” one of her friends shouted. She had forgotten that her friends were still there, and the effect of the alcohol had worn off a little. “He doesn’t have a family,” she answered, looking over at them, “I don’t want him to be all alone.” One of the paramedics gestured to follow him and Clara did, stepping into the ambulance after Malcolm on the stretcher. Another paramedic stayed with them in the back of the ambulance.

“What are you going to do to him?” Clara asked carefully. The paramedic looked up from the screens he was fiddling with. “Probably pump his stomach and sending him in therapy. The barkeeper told me it wasn’t the first time he collapsed.” Clara nodded and looked at Malcolm’s ghostlike face. She could tell that if he wouldn’t be so thin he would be a very attractive man. At that moment Malcolm opened his eyes a little. “He’s awake,” Clara whispered to the paramedic, who immediately turned all his attention to Malcolm. “Hello sir.” Malcolm’s eyes widened in shock as he looked around and started shifting like mad on the stretcher. “Stay calm sir,” the paramedic said, “you’re in an ambulance, you drank too much, we’re here to help you.” but Malcolm didn’t stop shifting. “Malcolm,” Clara whispered, standing up and moving closer to him, “you need to rest.” He stopped shifting but his eyes were still full of terror. She moved her hand to his hair and started stroking it softly, until his eyes closed again. “What is your relationship to him?” the paramedic asked. “Oh,” Clara looked around nervously, kneading her fingers “I don’t know him, to be honest. But the barkeeper, Danny, told me he had no family and I didn’t want him to wake up all on his own.” The paramedic smiled, “you’re too good to this world. Anyway, I don’t think his alcohol poisoning is too bad since he woke up in the ambulance, but we took a blood sample in the café and I’ll have it tested anyway.” Clara nodded, not leaving her eyes from Malcolm’s face.

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With a brute force the ambulance stopped and two paramedics opened the door, taking out the stretcher. The paramedic that had stayed with Clara talked to them very briefly and then walked back to her. “They’re going to take him to the operating theatre now,” he said, while walking her into the hospital, “I’ll let you know something as soon as I know something more. Do you want some coffee?” Clara smiled, “yes please.” The paramedic guided her to a chair and left, only to come back two minutes later with a cup of coffee. “Thanks,” Clara said, taking the cup. “I’m now going to the operating theatre, but I’ll be back in an hour or so,” and off he went, leaving Clara on her own on the emergency unit of a hospital at 3 AM. After five minutes of pointlessly staring around her phone buzzed. A number she didn’t know had texted her: “Hey it’s Danny, one of your friends gave me your phone number, how’s Malc doing?” Clara smiled and put her coffee on the chair next to hers to type out a reply. “They’re pumping his stomach at the moment but the paramedic said he’ll be fine. That’s all I know.” After she hit ‘send’ she leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. The next thing she knew someone was tapping her shoulder. “Miss?” Clara opened her eyes with a start, “I’m sorry, I dozed off!” The paramedic from earlier was standing before her. “I’m sorry to scare you,” he smiled. “How is Malcolm doing?” Clara asked urgently. “Mister Tucker is doing fine miss, but we’re going to put him in therapy. A psychiatrist will visit him tomorrow.” Clara stood up and looked worriedly at the paramedic. “Why?”
“We found 1,5 promille of alcohol in his blood,” he replied, “and his liver is damaged, which means your friend has a severe drinking problem.”
Clara’s eyes widened in shock. “Can I see him?” she asked. The paramedic firmly gripped her by the shoulders. “Stay calm miss. You can see him, but he’s asleep.”
“Okay,” Clara said, “bring me to him.” She didn’t know why she was so concerned by the health of a man she had never seen before and had probably attacked her if he hadn’t collapsed. “Only if you stay calm,” the paramedic answered, his voice rising a little, locking his eyes with Clara’s. His brown eyes reassured Clara that she could trust him. Clara took a few deep breaths. “Okay, follow me.” Clara did, through halls with doors leading to other halls. It made her head buzz, until the paramedic stopped at a glass door. He held his badge up to some kind of scanner and the door slid open, revealing another long corridor. The paramedic softly knocked at the third door on the left and peered his head inside, talking softly to someone in the room. “Okay,” he said softly when he turned his head back to Clara, “there’s a nurse who will stay with you for if mister Tucker wakes up. Doctor Song will be with you at some point during the day to start the therapy.” Clara nodded. “Thanks,” she whispered, before entering the room. The nurse looked over his shoulder and smiled at her, before moving his gaze back to the form he was filling in. Clara settled herself in the red armchair next to Malcolm’s bed, wondering what she would do if he woke up. After all, she didn’t even know the man. What would he say? Would he be aggressive and start shouting? Clara started biting the nail of her left index finger while staring at his ghostlike face. Only now in the cold light of the hospital she noticed his fierce eyebrows and it made her smile. “Will he be sober when he wakes up?” she asked the nurse and he looked up again, staring at her for a long time before answering her. “Yes,” he said, “but he’ll probably be confused and it’s possible that he doesn’t recognise you immediately. His memory will come back though. Except probably everything that happened last night, due to the booze.” He looked a bit nervous, Clara thought. “You can call me Rory, by the way,” he added, and concentrated back on the papers on the table before him. Clara looked at the back of Rory’s head when her phone buzzed again. This time it was one of her friends. “We’re sleeping at the hot dude’s!!! Are you still with that man?” Clara laughed, which caused Rory to turn his head. “Sorry,” she apologised, and she started typing an answer: “Yay good for you? Yes I’m still in the hospital with him. Goodnight.” She put away her phone and leaned her head back, closing her eyes once more. She dozed off quite soon. When she woke up again, light was shining through her eyelids and her neck hurt.

“Hey, you,” a soft, husky voice somewhere on her left sounded. She opened her eyes to look in the steely blue eyes of Malcolm Tucker, a man she had never seen before but nevertheless had accompanied to the hospital after he had drunken too much. She smiled at the man, who looked back in confusion. “Who are you, actually?”
“Oh,” Clara remembered that he probably wouldn’t recall anything from last night, so she quickly stood up and introduced herself, “I’m Clara Oswald, 28, English teacher at Coal Hill and you nearly attacked me last night.” She presented her hand and he shook it, an expression of mild surprise on his face. “Nearly attacked you?” he asked. “Yeah, you said you were innocent, I don’t know,” she said, settling herself back in the armchair. “Oh,” Malcolm answered, moving his gaze from her, “I’ve been in prison.” Clara sensed that he didn’t like talking about it so she quickly changed the subject. “Does the nurse already know you’re awake?” Malcolm laughed. “That Rory fella? Yeah, he examined me hours ago, but it was as if he was terrified of me.”
“So you have been awake for ages, with a girl you’ve never seen before sleeping in your armchair.”
“It’s not my armchair, it’s the hospitals.” he looked back at Clara, giving her a weak smile. “I guess I didn’t really care,” he said, smiling, but staring back in front of him, “you’re nice to look at.” Clara saw him swallow and knew that was not the reason he didn’t care a strange girl was sitting next to him. “Danny told me that your family abandoned you,” she said softly and carefully, afraid that he would become angry with her for being so curious. But he didn’t. Instead he took a deep breath and clenched his jaw, which was a sign for Clara to stop just there. Not because he was angry, but because he was sad. He shrugged. “Who needs a family anyway?”
Clara stood up again and took his hand carefully. It looked so thin and fragile and there was an IV line attached to it. “Everyone does,” she whispered, squeezing his hand softly.
Clara knew there were high walls built around Malcolm, but he was too tired which meant they weren’t protected.

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Clara knew she should let him rest but she was too curious. “Why hasn’t your family come back after they found out you were innocent?” The look he gave her in response was one of shock and surprise. He pursed his lips and shrugged again. “Can you please leave me alone?”
“Malcolm –“ Clara began, but he interrupted her. “Hey kiddo, you don’t know me okay? And I ask you to leave me alone so you better just do that, okay?”
Clara was a bit shocked by his change of attitude but she wouldn’t accept him trampling all over her like that after she had saved his life. “I think you should talk about-“
“LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!”
His look had changed in barely a second from kind and emotional to wild and animalistic. Clara walked towards the door and gave him one last angry look before leaving the room. What she saw though, was something she didn’t expect. Suddenly Malcolm looked tiny and piteous. “Clara -” she heard him say right before she closed the door behind her, but she thought it was better to leave him for a bit. After all, she felt kind of hurt. She looked for her phone and when she found it in her bag dialled Danny’s number.

“Clara!” Danny’s voice sounded through the other end of the line. “Hey,” Clara said, not sure what else she could say.
“So, any news from Malcolm?”
“Yeah he’s awake and I think he’s doing fine,” she responded, walking up and down the corridor.
She heard Danny sigh in relief, “good.”
“They’re going to put him in therapy for his drinking problem though,” she added and Danny chuckled.
“What?” she asked, smiling a little bit.
“Can you see Malcolm lying on a couch, talking about his problems?” Danny answered.
“I seriously think he’s a really nice guy if you look past his problems,” Clara replied.
“Yeah,” Danny said, “I’ve heard stories of him from right before he went into politics, I think it has changed him a lot.”
“Hold on, he was a politician?” Clara stopped walking.
“Of course he was, infamous Malcolm Tucker!” Danny exclaimed, “he was director of communications for the previous government!”
“Yeah, I vaguely remember it,” Clara said slowly, starting to pace the corridor again. In that moment her stomach rumbled inappropriately loud. “Look, Danny, I’m sorry but I gotta go, I haven’t eaten yet, but I’ll let you know something as soon as possible. And oh –“ she quickly added, “- I hope my friends haven’t bothered you too much?”
Danny started to laugh. “No, not at all, they’re both quite hilarious! We talked for a long while before they fell asleep on my sofa. I drove them home just half an hour ago.”
“Okay,” Clara smiled, “bye.”

She ended the phone call and went looking for something to eat for her and Malcolm. When she returned to the glass doors she pressed the small button. “I’m here for mister Malcolm Tucker,” she stated through the microphone. The doors slid open and she walked straight to the third door on the left. She softly knocked but didn’t wait for an answer to open it. She closed the door slowly and looked at Malcolm, who gave a small, almost relieved smile. When she came closer to him she saw that his eyes were a little bit red, but she decided to ignore his emotions for a bit because it was clear that he wasn’t ready to talk about them yet. “I brought us coffee and sandwiches,” she smiled, placing the two plastic coffee cups on his nightstand and taking the bag of sandwiches out of her handbag. “Clara,” Malcolm’s Scottish accent rasped and she looked up into his steel blue eyes. She saw he was terrified so she took his hand and squeezed it. “I know that I have to open up to people if I want them in my life, but I just can’t,” Malcolm sighed. “It’s okay,” Clara whispered, “we’ll have a deal: you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, as long as you tell me something’s wrong, okay?” A small smile appeared on Malcolm’s face, “deal.”
“So, do you want ham or chicken?” Clara asked lightly, holding up the sandwiches. Malcolm looked relieved by the change of subject. “Ham please,” so Clara gave him the ham sandwich and took the chicken one for herself.

It was a good excuse not to talk for a bit because Clara had no idea what to say, so they ate their sandwiches and drank their coffee in silence. Clara looked at Malcolm’s ghostly face, studying his features. His fierce eyebrows made her smile. He had very beautiful cheekbones, Clara noticed, and his salt and pepper messy hair fit his features wonderfully. She also saw how he enjoyed every bite of the sandwich, like he hadn’t eaten such good food in months, while she found the sandwiches rather dry. After a few minutes Malcolm looked at her, noticing her watching his face. She smiled apologetically but a grin spread on his face and for the first time since she had seen him his eyes lit up. Little lines appeared around his eyes and his nose wrinkled a bit. It was quite adorable. “I’m sorry,” Clara said, tearing her eyes away from his face, “I like studying people’s faces”
“You don’t need to apologise,” Malcolm assured her, sipping from his coffee again, “as long as I can study yours now.” Clara nodded, giggling. She watched his eyes travelling over her face, taking in every feature. It made her feel a little uncomfortable knowing that she was being watched but she didn’t care.

“Do you mind that I go home for a shower and a change of clothes?” Clara asked when she saw Malcolm trying to stifle a yawn, “so you can rest a little.” Malcolm nodded. “You will be back though?” his eyes revealing that he was afraid she wouldn’t. “Of course I will,” Clara smiled, standing up and taking his hand, brushing her thumb over it. “See ya.”

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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.

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“Fuck!” she yelled and she ran over to him, hitting the button to call a nurse and kneeled next to him, not even bothering to turn off the shower. His mouth was hanging open and his eyes had rolled away so only the white was visible. By instinct she checked his pulse and his breathing. He was doing both, but his pulse was going really fast.

“Malcolm, can you hear me?” her voice broke as she softly hit his cheek but he didn’t react. Her other hand grasped for his right hand and she squeezed it really hard. “Malcolm, please, wake up!” she bit her lip, but tears started rolling over her cheeks anyway. She quickly ran to the corridor, leaving a wet trail behind her and yelled, “Malcolm’s lost consciousness, someone come and help please!”

She ran back in the bathroom and switched the shower off. “Everything’s going to be alright Malcolm,” she said between ragged breaths, stroking his wet hair with one hand and holding his hand with the other.

A nurse finally came running into the room and Clara stood up, making place for her. She kneeled next to Malcolm and grabbed his hand. “Mister Tucker, can you squeeze my hand please,” she said in a loud voice.

Clara felt her knees give way so she quickly sat down on the toilet. “Is he going to be alright?” she sobbed, terrified.

The nurse looked at her. Clara saw it was the same nurse who had told her that the psychiatrist was in Malcolm’s room earlier. “Yes, miss,” she smiled, “as you know, stopping with alcohol leads to withdrawals, he’s having an epilepsy attack.”

“Epilepsy?!” Clara shouted, her stomach twisting, “that’s really bad, isn’t it?”

“No, he might experience some more in the coming week, but if his medical records don’t show any previous attacks he will not have them anymore after next week,” she said, a look of understanding on her face, “my name’s Rose by the way. I’m gonna call some help to put Malcolm back in his bed, hold on.”

Rose ran up the corridor and Clara heard her shout, “I need two people at room 305 as quick as possible please! And someone bring me an extra blanket!” Then she came back into the bathroom and took a towel from the rack to cover Malcolm up a little. In all the commotion Clara hadn’t even bothered to think about the fact he was naked.

Silent tears were still running over her cheeks when two nurses walked into the room; one of them was tall and lanky and Clara wondered how he balanced on those long legs, let alone how he would be able to carry Malcolm. The other was a dark-haired woman who wasn’t necessarily muscly but looked like she could handle even an alien. “What’s this for?” she asked in a thick Welsh accent, giving the blanket to Rose.

“Oh thanks Gwen, here miss, wrap that around, you’re all wet.” Rose replied.

While Clara gratefully wrapped herself in the blanket the three nurses easily lifted Malcolm and brought him back to his bed safely. Rose covered him with his blanket and stayed in the room while the other two smiled at Clara and left.

Rose was now busy opening Malcolm’s eyes and shining with a flashlight in them while Clara sat next to him on the bed, holding his hand. As she felt the warmth of his hand she felt herself calm down and her tears finally stopped falling.

“His reactions are normal, I expect he’ll retrieve consciousness again soon but I’ll stay here just in case.”

Clara smiled, “thank you.”

Rose shuffled her feet a bit awkwardly and stared at the ground. “Uhm, can I ask you something?”

Clara frowned curiously. “Er, yeah, I guess?” she answered, not sure what to expect.

“Well everyone here is talking about it, the wildest rumours, about you and mister Tucker.” A relieved sigh left Clara’s lips, “oh.”

“So is it true that he hit you knock out before passing out himself?”

“No!” Clara shot back loudly, and in that moment she could feel Malcolm’s fingers moving around her hand. Rose looked a bit taken aback.

“Sorry,” Clara began, “I just hadn’t heard that before, that’s not what happened at all. Malcolm just squeezed my hand a little?”

Rose moved closer to Malcolm, examining his hand. Clara looked at his gaunt face. She saw his eyelids move a little. “I think he’s waking up,” she whispered, a knot in her stomach finally untying.

Malcolm opened his eyes and a soft smile spread on Clara’s lips. “Hey,” she whispered, placing her hand on his cheek for a moment. She could feel tears burning in the corners of her eyes again but she was determined to stay strong for Malcolm.

“Water,” he croaked, and Clara immediately jumped up from the bed to fill the glass on his nightstand. Meanwhile Rose asked him some basic questions like his name and what day it was. Malcolm smiled softly when Clara handed him the glass. “Thanks.”

“I’ll leave you now,” Rose said, “just hit the button when you need me again.” and with a swipe of her peroxide-blonde hair she was gone.

When Malcolm had put the glass back on the nightstand Clara launched herself at his body and embraced him in a hug. She couldn’t help herself and started to cry in his naked chest. Malcolm awkwardly put his arms around her back.

“I was terrified,” Clara sobbed.

Malcolm tightened his embrace and planted a kiss in her wet hair. “I’m so sorry.”

These words and the way his voice broke didn’t do Clara any good. She could feel her heart rip into a thousand pieces and just started to cry harder, not noticing how her nails were digging in his back.

“Uhm Clara, you’re hurting me,” Malcolm whispered.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” Clara sobbed, moving her hands away from Malcolm’s back, still resting her head on his chest. He moved his long fingers through her hair and Clara felt herself finally relax.

“How come you’re all wet?” Malcolm asked softly after a few minutes.

“I didn’t turn the shower off immediately when I saw you lying there”, Clara replied with a weak voice, looking at him. His eyelids were bright red which meant he had been crying while trying to comfort her. It made Clara’s eyes fill with tears again. Malcolm gave a short laugh though. “Typical.”