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Both the Time Lord and Smith were still looking at the door. The younger one was the first to speak. "I'm going to give you some advice: Never cross the woman who cares about you. And believe me…she cares."

"Strange way of caring." The Doctor took his clothes with an even more confused look. "What am I supposed to be? A magician?"

Chapter 26: Can't see me

They had barely spoken since they arrived at her little flat. She tried, wanting to be kind with him, but it was like trying to speak to a bug-eyed porcupine which responded by throwing sharp spikes at her.

Clara was tired. She really wanted to help him, but she had to figure out how to soften the porcupine. She wondered why he was so defensive.

Her fingers scratched her front, deep in thought, until the kettle began to whistle.

His gaze was fixed on the ceiling; it was as blank and white as his memories. He was weary of having to be bedridden, but he couldn't complain, the girl's bed was infinitely more comfortable than the military hospital one.

The Time Lord needed answers, and quickly. He tried to gather all the possible information that this house could offer, but it was difficult when the only room that he could scrutinize was the bedroom.

When she left him alone he tried to get up again, but to no avail. He decided it was best to let go, at least for then.

The Doctor closed his eyes. The room was filled with the fragrance of the girl. Maybe the little human was odd, but at least she smelled good.

Then he heard a knock on the open door, and opened his eyes to meet her in the doorway.

"May I come in?"

"No," he rolled his eyes. "But it's a ridiculous question when you are already inside the room."

"Sorry," she apologized as she came closer to the bed. "I made tea. I thought that you would like it," she said, offering him a mug. He took it reluctantly, although it was pleasant to warm his hands.

"It's your favourite. With eight sugar cubes." She smiled nervously at him.

He looked down doubtfully at the liquid inside the cup. She spotted an unsure gesture.

"Come on. You're looking at it like if it's poisoned."

"Is it?"

She smirked at him but his face was very serious.

"For heaven's sake." She took it from him and drank some sips. "See. Not poisoned. Your turn," she said giving it back to him.

He looked at it disgustedly. "Now it has your corporal fluids on it. You know, I'll pass."

If she didn't know him so well, would have said he was the most annoying person in the solar system. But knowing what he was trying, she just simply breathed deeply. "It'll be good for you. I just want you to get better, you know."

"Of course." There was a hint of irony in his voice. "The question is, what for? I must recognise that you're a good actress, round-face, but you and I know that being such a good girl is a facade, so there is no point in faking it."

Mentally, Clara counted to three before answering him. "Why wouldn't I want your well-being?"

"Because you're alone with a stranger who is clearly superior to you. Or maybe not," he said, looking suspiciously towards the door.

"A stranger? And don't be paranoid, there is no one there," she said, irritated. It was perfectly clear that he was trying, by all means, to build a defensive wall between them. "Doctor. If you're going to stay with me there will be rules: No rudeness, and please, no untruthfulness."

"Trust is something that must be earned." His eyebrows warned her that he wasn't in the mood for an argument.

She put her arms akimbo. "And what I did for you to not trust me? I'm trying to be nice; I'm trying to make it easy for you." She sighed. "If you don't trust me, why did you agree to come with me?"

He glared at her but didn't say anything. He didn't want to reveal that he thought it would be easier to escape from a tiny human girl than from an army building guarded by the military.

"It's ok that you're angry, but you don't have the right to judge me when you don't even remember me."

"Oh…that's where you are wrong, round-face." With effort, he pushed himself up into a sitting position to look straight at her. "I can tell a lot of things about you."

"Oh?" She was surprised. Was he remembering?

"I can tell that you try to hide your insecurities behind a screen of perfection even though you are a mess on the inside. You have a very self-centred and egocentric personality…really? Three mirrors? And judging for your choices of words and demeanour, I would say that you're a very manipulative person who must be really alone."

The shock was evident in her face. She wasn't angry or sad, not even frustrated by his words. What she felt was pure terror.

"You're an arsehole," she whispered before storming out of the room.

He let himself fall down on the pillow, with a satisfied smile on his lips. At last he was going to be alone and quiet enough to try to think of a good plan. But after some minutes, he heard the only sound he wouldn't tolerate under any circumstances.

By the time the girl entered the bathroom, her eyes were burning and tears flowed from both of them. She didn't look up to the mirror in front of her. She didn't want to see anyone, not even herself. Instead, her body slid down the tiled wall until she was sitting on the cold floor.

She was terrified. Not of him, of course. What frightened her was the thought that their friendship was over. The pain she felt every time he looked at her and didn't see her.

"Can't see me." She remembered those exacts words, coming out of his lips.

The girl began to sob aloud as she pulled her phone from her pocket and began to text John. The scientist had told her to call him, whatever happened.

She didn't want to ask for help but wasn't sure if she could handle it. "He's not the Doctor anymore. Help" she wrote, but when her thumb was about to press the send button, she heard a heavy sound, like a potato sack falling over. She wasn't sure what that was; after all, her neighbours had always been very noisy.

"Why?" she thought. "Why I have to lose everything? Why is he doing this? Why he can't see me…" And then she realized that he was right, she was being egocentric, not thinking about how he actually feels. "You're right. Even without your memories, you're always right," she said, burying her face into her hands.

"I know."

Surprised, she looked up to see him standing by the door.

"How…?"

"Very badly."

"Please, leave me alone."

"I don't think I'm capable of doing that," he said, falling to his knees, very exhausted.

She tried to stop the sobs, didn't want to show him that he had won, to show him her weaknesses, because they would be the target of all of his attacks and wasn't sure if she could stand them.

The girl waited for another blow. But it never came.

"I didn't mean it," he murmured softly.

She hid her surprise. "Yes, you did. And it's ok because it's true." Her fingers tried to wipe away the tears. "Anyway, why are you here? Did you find a better insult than round-face and couldn't wait to spit it on my face?"

He didn't say anything but his gaze remained on her, lost for words. Realization hit her when she dared to look up at his big sad eyes.

"Oh…I know. You hate the sound of crying." She smiled still trying to dry her tears, but they didn't stop.

"It's very hard for me. But I can try," he broke the silence.

"Try what?"

"To trust you."

She looked down at her phone, and then at him "Why, why is it so hard for you?" she asked curiously, as she knew he didn't do owt for nowt.

He smiled back, not answering her.

"You won't trust me, not yet. But you say that because you'll need help to come back to bed, don't you?"

"Perhaps. But don't trusting you isn't an excuse to be cruel to you. I have been testing you since we got here; you have had the opportunity to slap me five times, and you didn't. That means that you could be one of two things. But until I figure out which one, I won't trust anyone."

"And what if I finally slap you now?"

"Hmm…that would reset the experiment, but you wouldn't like that."

"Nor would your face."

"Do you really want to slap me?"

She glared at him, but soon her eyes warmed up. "No."

"Interesting. I believed that was what the monkeys with two hands usually did," he whispered.

She laugh, and her laughter grow louder when he looked at her, puzzled.

Finally, the girl observed the phone screen which it still read 'he's not the Doctor anymore. Help.' Her finger deleted the message, slowly standing up. "Let's get you back to bed."

Clara offered her hand to him timidly, not knowing what to expect, but he finally took it. "Yes. I have a better name for you," he said, leaning on her as he stood up.

"I already have one: Clara."

"Control freak. Otherwise, why would you ordered clothes from your closet by colours?"

"Keep doing that and you'll find your arse against the floor."

"Ok. Sorry, but what about the socks by size? Do your feet change their size, and how do you do that?"

She bit her tongue while they walked to her room again, letting him lie on the bed. "Doctor. Are you truly testing me? What are the two things do you think I could be?"

She was sure that a hint of fear reflected on his eyes before he blinked and looked back to her. "Oh… you could be just stupid, or retarded." He faked a smile.

"Riiiight. What do you think about a soup?"

"Ok. But make sure to not mix it with your corporal fluids."

The next day was a very exhausting one for Clara. The first thing to do was to change his bandages, which was like fighting with a three-year-old child.

"Are you actually enjoying this?!" he said, protesting every time she applied more ointment on the burnt side of his chest.

"I'm doing what John told me to do. Hang on, I'm almost finished."

"You and your beloved John could throw yourselves into a supernova." Then she reached the worst part of his burned skin, just below on his heart. "Oh…be careful, be careful."

She tried to be gentle, but he clenched his teeth anyway. "Hang on, Doctor, it hurts me too."

"Shut up. It doesn't!"

She put new gauze on his skin and then gave him a little pat on the shoulder. "Better?"

He glared at her. "I won't tell you what I'm thinking right now."

The rest of the day passed without many changes. He was still defensive towards her, and she tried to ignore his poisoned darts. Tiredly, she threw herself to the sofa on her living room.

"His wounds are better. But his mood is hell," she texted to John.

"His mood was always hell, so it's ok." She read the answer on the screen and a shadow of a smile appeared on her lips.

"Not like this."

"You mean: Not to you."

Clara sighed while writing her next message. "I miss him. The real him."

"Be patient. He's still there, somewhere."

She was about to answer him when the Doctor's voice startled her. It sounded distant. Was he calling her? Immediately she stood up and went to the corridor, to find out that the Doctor was whispering to someone.

"How?" she thought, trying to listen to his voice.

"No, I need to find out. I need to know the limits. […] Hmm, I didn't expect that, good idea."

It was only his voice, no one else was there. A shiver ran down her spine. "Has he lost his mind?"

(Note: Yes, The Doctor is very rude, but I have an explanation for that xD)