Chris went back to Karen's room, going back to what he was doing.
Everything was becoming so confusing – Karen's grandchild was seriously unwell and if that wasn't bad enough, his own daughter decided to show up and fluster him for whatever reason she was there for.

Why was she there exactly? Everything between them sorted itself out, so he couldn't understand how she could suddenly have some personal vendetta against him. The previous night she told him that she loved him.
That might not have been the case that day. It certainly seemed that way anyway.

Telling himself to think no more of it, he went back to what he was writing, only to have Tom hastily come in through the door. A more panic-stricken expression formed on his face, and he immediately feared the worst.

Had Clara…attacked him? Had she attacked one of his set? He sharply got up out of the chair, his eyes fixed on the older male's. He didn't want to think the worst of his own daughter, but anything was possible – especially in the volatile state she was seemingly in.

"We have to call for an ambulance." He explained palely.

"Why, what has she done?" Chris immediately assumed that Clara had indeed not taken on what he'd said about leaving.

He shook his head. "She hasn't done anything…not that I know of."

"Tom, I…" He came from behind the desk. "I don't understand."

"I went to take my set in for the swimming session."

The younger male noticed how pale he sounded and looked. He raised an eyebrow in concern.

"Chris, I think she's dead."

He swallowed hard and he was sure his throat tightened at his words.
"Sh-she can't be." He faintly stated. "Not if nothing happened."

"She'd sunk to the bottom of the deep end." Tom went on. "She jumped in there and…she must've known she couldn't swim...I-I mean, why do that?"

Feeling a sudden jolt of adrenaline kick in, he rushed down to the swimming baths with Tom chasing after him.
"Why didn't you call for an ambulance?" He suddenly asked him, unable to suppress the protectiveness in his voice.

"I-I don't know…" He weakly replied. "I guess I didn't expect to find her there."

"Where are your set?"

"I cleared them out of the pool as soon as I found her." He explained.

Chris came into the main pool area, finding Clara had indeed lifelessly sunk to the bottom of the deep end. His adrenaline went into overdrive, prompting him to peel his suit jacket off and dive in after her.

Tom breathed at the young male's athleticism, but grew worried when he didn't surface straightaway with the girl.
He felt relief wash over him as he emerged, pulling Clara up behind him. He helped him out, and then helped in pulling her out straight after.

Tom laid her down onto her back on the side and made to start resuscitating her when Chris placed a hand on top of his. "She's not breathing."

"Let me do it." He insisted, his eyes revealing something to the older of the two males, but not quite giving anything away. Clara was his daughter, and he was sure she'd have a better chance at pulling through if he used his breath to save her.

He nodded unsurely. A few seconds had gone by and in that time she may have had a better chance at coming round.

He knelt down beside her, gently tilting her head up and placing his lips around her smaller ones, breathed into her a few times.

Within a few minutes of breathing into her and pressing down onto her chest, she stirred and violently coughed up the water she'd breathed in.
Chris helped her to sit up, feeling a wave of relief crash over him at the realisation that he'd saved her life.
"Thank god," his voice was faint with shock, "thank god you're ok."

Tom knelt down beside them both.

He turned to him. "I guess you can carry on with your set now."

"What about her?" He wanted to know. "You sure she'll be ok?"

He looked to her, placing a hand on her back.
"I'll sort her out." He stated. "You've got a set to be carrying on with."
He took Clara into a small room within the pool's outhouse, helping her to sit down on a stool so he could find her a towel. Managing to find one, he carefully wrapped it around her, keeping it as close to her as he could.

"I guess I should thank you." She mumbled.

"On top of the fact that you should apologise to me as well." Chris finely added, placing a hand on his hip as he looked to her. "Clara, that was so stupid of you. What was going through your mind before you did that?"

"You wanted me to disappear."

"No, not like that I didn't." He cast his gaze to the floor. "Do you know how close I came to losing you? You could've died."

She drew in a small sigh.

"Never mind how bad I was going to feel after finding out about what you'd done." He couldn't be annoyed at her for long, and he started to rub her down with the towel.

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't say sorry." He replied firmly. For her to say sorry to him didn't quite cut it. What she'd done was inexcusable and it was going to take more than an apology to put it right. "We should just carry on with the way we are."

Clara nodded sadly. She knew what she'd done had angered him – probably beyond words. After all, she almost took her own life. "I just felt so bad."

"You shouldn't have to." Chris stated, as he made to dry her hair. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"But what about the times when you aren't?" She looked to him. "You're not going to be there for me all the time, are you?"

"There comes a time when I have to not be there for you." He noted. "You're not a baby."

"I know." She felt the tears shimmer behind her eyes. "Sometimes I feel that no one loves me."

"No," he shook his head softly, "don't think that, sweetheart. I love you, you know that, right?"

"Do you?"

"Yes." He squeezed the ends of her dark hair between the creases of the towel. "Do you sometimes doubt that?"

She shrugged. "I guess so."

He stopped drying her hair, putting it to one side so he could go down to her level and get her to look into his eyes. "That why you did that?"

Clara said nothing, but felt the urge to pull her hood back up and not let him see her face. Instead, she turned away from him.

"Don't turn away from me." Chris placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back round to face him again. "You've got nothing to hide from me. If you tell me either way, I'm not going to get angry with you."

She drew in another small sigh.

"I just wanna know, that's all, sweetheart," he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, "I won't love you any less. But I can help you if that's what you want."

She closed her eyes and nodded, sending a slight weight into the pit of his stomach.

"Ok," he stated softly, "I can help you."

She could sense from the tone of his voice about his innermost intentions. "You're going to send me away." She shakily noted. "You're going to take me to a doctor and they're going to take me away."

"No," he rubbed her gently, "no, they won't do anything you don't want them to – not without your say-so."

"But you're still going to take me to a shrink." Clara replied with stark horror.

"I still love you the same," Chris went on, "but it'll work out better for both of us if I take you somewhere you can get help."

"I can't believe what you're saying." She tore herself away from him. "You said you would let us carry on with the way things are, but that's not what you want at all."

"I'd rather you go somewhere you can get help than to let you carry on and endanger yourself." He stated. "You're not well, sweetheart."

"Then make me better." She tore up to him, placing her hands around his wrists. "I don't want anyone else but you to make me better."

"I can't." He admitted softly. "I can't be that person. The doctors know more about what you've got."

"I haven't got anything." She retorted, pulling herself away from him when she realised he wasn't playing along with what she wanted him to do. "There's nothing wrong with me and you can't make me go anywhere I don't wanna go."
And with that, she disappeared, leaving him alone in the small room.

Later that night.
Chris was thankful that Clara hadn't packed her bags and left him after their run-in.
He found her curled up on her bed with her back to him when he stood in the room's doorway, the pair of them not saying a word to each other since he got home from work.
The silent treatment can't go on forever, surely.

The time soon came up to half-past seven. By that time he'd gotten pretty hungry and he was sure she wasn't far off being so as well.
"Clara," he started, leaning against the doorway to her room, "it's getting late if you wanted anything for me to get for you."

She didn't so much as stir or say a word.

"I know we should be steering clear of takeouts and heavy stuff like that, but the offer's there if you want one."

Still no answer.

Sighing, he sat next to her on the bed, causing the mattress at his side to dip a little and slide her against his thigh. "I know you don't like me that much right now and you probably think of me as some really bad person, but I want you to get better."

"There's nothing wrong with me," she stated, "why can't you see that?"

"It might not have to be for very long." He ignored her question. "It could be a few days, maybe even a week."

"Maybe even a few months, from what I've heard."

Chris shrugged. "In more extreme cases, yeah." He placed a hand on her back. "But we don't want it to get that far, do we?"

Clara pulled herself away from his touch, sharply looking round at him. "So you're not denying there's something wrong with me then?" She sat up, looking into his eyes that were devoid of any anger. "Stop playing mind games with me."

"I'm not," he inched closer to her, "really, I'm not."

She quickly escaped under the blankets, the nipping sensation of hunger fading away all of a sudden. "Stay away from me." She warned him.

"Clara," he started, knowing that in all honesty she wasn't that well at all. Refusing to eat wasn't a good sign either, especially when she hadn't eaten all day and was probably starving.

"I don't want you to touch me," she went on, "till you stop threatening to take me away."

He decided to hold off for then. There wasn't a lot he could've done and he didn't feel comfortable in whisking her out of bed and manhandling her into the car to take her to a doctor.
He got off the bed, switching the lamp off and leaving her to sleep.