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Chapter 46

Clara wasn't pleased with his suggestion, John could tell. Even though she had agreed to it and probably knew that it was for the best, she just didn't give off the impression that she was happy with the arrangement. After leaving the station, John drove her to her house so she could pack and he helped her carry her bag into his guest bedroom afterwards, but Clara remained quiet most of the time except for the moments where she politely thanked him for his help. John felt at a loss. Was she still in shock after Ciaran O'Neill's attack? Was there something she wasn't telling him? Or could it be the unspoken thing between them that she refused to talk about? The last two times they had spent a little more time together, it had ended in a kiss each time. Was that what she was afraid of? Given her still-recent loss, it wouldn't surprise him. But as long as she didn't talk to him about it, there was little he could do to help.

Still, John was determined to make her feel welcome and at home in his house, so he carefully stepped into the living room and when he entered, a smile spread across his face at the sight in front of him. Clara was sitting on the sofa next to Odin, massaging his ears and talking to him in a soft voice. He wasn't entirely sure what she was saying to him, but his dog obviously enjoyed it.

"I see you're bribing the guard dog with ear rubs," John remarked and Clara's head shot around in an instant. He had taken her by surprise.

"John, I didn't hear you come in," she replied.

"I was going to make dinner, but I wanted to ask if there was anything specific you'd like," he explained carefully. "Or maybe we could cook together?"

Clara seemed to consider it for a moment, then shrugged. "I'll have what you're having," she replied as she rose from her seat. "But I'll definitely help you cook."

Odin seemed to know what was going on because he too followed them into the kitchen where John immediately opened the fridge only to have one important realisation: it was nearly empty except for some cheese and sour cream. Not knowing what else to do, he opened the cupboards as well to find a bag of potatoes and bread. With an apologetic smile on his lips, John turned to face Clara.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I forgot to go to the supermarket," he confessed. "I suppose you don't feel like eating out?"

In response, Clara stepped past him and glanced into the almost empty cupboard. "I see potatoes," she noted with a shrug. "That could be chips or mash or fried potatoes."

"I have sour cream," John suggested.

Clara granted him a smile. "Baked potatoes then."

Despite her smile and although Clara got straight to work, sorting through the potatoes and scrubbing them, John could tell that most of it was a mask and that underneath, her thoughts were probably miles away and he wanted to find out what they were about, but he had to be careful about it. Not knowing what else to do, he also grabbed a couple of potatoes and held them under the tap.

"Thank you for letting me stay here, by the way," Clara said of her own accord, but she didn't look at him. "You were right. It's probably not the best idea for me to be on my own right now."

"Because Ciaran O'Neill is still after you or because of… what happened earlier?" John asked carefully, watching her closely.

Clara suddenly stopped what she was doing and turned her head, looking right at him. There was still a hint of fear in her eyes. "Both," she admitted.

"It must be difficult, so if you ever feel the need to talk about it-" John broke off, laughing a little. "I'm probably not the right person, but we have trauma experts at the station and they're so much better at this than I am."

In response, Clara smiled at him again. "Thank you, but I don't think that will be necessary. You'll catch O'Neill and then it'll all be over. I'll be fine, I just don't want to be alone right now."

Still, John wasn't entirely convinced. Maybe it wasn't the shock. Maybe it was something else entirely. He wouldn't know unless she told him. "Are you sure?"

At last, Clara chuckled and she reached out to give him a soft nudge. "I'm tougher than I look, trust me," she reassured him and without saying another word, Clara turned her attention back on the potatoes. Reaching for a towel, she started to dry them off one by one.

"So, um, I didn't hear much of your conversation with O'Neill," John went on, his voice cautious, "but I had the impression that he was after something and he thought you had it."

Clara inhaled sharply. "Ciaran O'Neill asked me about it, Kate asked me about it and I still don't know what he was talking about," she replied without looking at him. The potato in her hand was dry, but Clara kept on rubbing it with a towel. If she wasn't careful, she would peel it like that. For some reason, she was overcompensating. In his many years as a detective, he had often seen this kind of behaviour and it usually implied that the person was hiding something. Was Clara hiding something from him, too? Or was she just trying to hide how the encounter with O'Neill had really affected her?

"Do you have an inkling what it could be?" John wanted to know. He had to tread carefully here. The last thing he wanted was to stick his finger deeper into the wound, but he just had to know. "I mean, did he maybe say something that could lead you to believe it was something specific?"

Clara blew the air out between her teeth, but she still avoided his gaze even as she placed the potatoes aside. "I don't know," she replied gruffly. "He just said it had something to do with Bonnie."

John opened his mouth, ready to ask another question when Clara cut him off.

"Can we change the subject now?" she demanded. At last, she turned her head, eyes on him – but she still wasn't meeting his gaze. Was she telling him the truth? Was she lying? John had no idea. Right now, it felt as if he didn't know her at all.

John swallowed hard. "Of course," he replied. "I'm sorry. Let's focus on the food, shall we?"

Clara seemed to agree because without saying another word, she reached for the tin foil and started to wrap up the potatoes and John set about helping her. Only this time, it was John's mind that was miles away while he kept on wondering what it was that Clara wasn't telling him.