Saturday morning.
It should've been quite a blissful morning for Chris, as he was off work. What didn't make the weekend so merry for him was the fact that Clara had warned him off her.

It made him feel like he was being seen as some bad person – someone who was planning on taking her away to a doctor and never get her to see him again.

That was a terrible thing to think on her part. How could his own daughter make him out to be someone who didn't love her? And he did really love her, which was why he was trying so hard to get her to see she needed help.

Clara scuttled out of her room later that evening, sitting down on the sofa next to him but choosing to inch to the far side of it so he couldn't interact with her. She had her back turned to him, and he was sure that although he was given a fleeting sight of her, the dark circles under her eyes were prominent enough to show she'd hardly slept. If that were the case, what was she doing in her room all day – lying on her back in bed looking up at the ceiling?

"You must be starving." He slowly pointed out, remembering that she hadn't eaten at all the previous night and was at least trying to break the awkward silence between them.

"What do you care?" She snapped, bringing her legs up to her chest. "You wanna send me away."

"I can't do anything till you let me," Chris explained, "and don't think for one minute it's something I wanna do. 'Cause it isn't."

"How can I believe you?" She turned round to look at him that time. "After telling me that you wanted to keep things the way they were, and then deciding to send me away."

He said nothing, but cast his gaze down to the floor. She had him there, he had to admit, but it was a split-second decision about sending her away. "I didn't mean to lie to you, if that was the way it came out."

"Whether you meant what you said or not, I wasn't going to change my mind." Clara noted.

"Well then, that's up to you." He looked to her steadily. "But I can't force you to go if you're not going to let me. So you've got it your way for now."

She twirled the ends of her dark hair with an index finger in a pensive way. She'd grown aware of how coarse and dry it'd gotten.

Chris realised she'd let herself go a little bit, and it was something he didn't want to see. "You should have a bath." He noticed a bewildered look forming on her face.

"I smell that bad, do I?"

He inwardly found that a little funny, though he knew it really wasn't a laughing matter. They'd barely spoken to each other since the previous night! "Taking a bath will help you relax."

The look of bewilderment deepened all the more.

"Don't worry," he smirked cheekily, in an attempt to instil a bit of humour into the atmosphere, "I promise not to look at anything I shouldn't."

"But if I'm…you know…with no clothes on, you'll look without wanting to." Clara squirmed a little in her place on the sofa, and felt all the more self-conscious when she got up and found him still looking at her.

He took in her slender, well-formed figure, gauging her silhouette from underneath her long pastel-blue sleeveless top and black leggings. He couldn't deny that he and his ex had done a perfect job with creating her!
"Well," he started, getting a towel from the bathroom, "there's a way around that!"

He started to run the bath for her whilst she got stripped in her room so that he couldn't see her in a state of undress. That would not make him feel very comfortable.

She emerged into the bathroom with the towel he'd given her around her so as to protect her modesty.

"All ready now?"

She nodded dimly, and he helped her into the bath as she kept the large towel wrapped around her body. The water was a nice balmy temperature, not too hot and not too cold but at the same time not tepid.

Chris bent down to her level and started to wet her hair with the flannel he had lying about. "You can fill it with bubbles after I wash your hair if you want." He didn't know why he even talked to her, as he would have to someone who was ten years younger than her. She wasn't a baby, but he did like making a fuss of her. She was the only daughter he had, so why not?

Clara closed her eyes when he massaged a very pleasantly scented shampoo into her scalp and through to the ends of her hair. She found the touch very relaxing.
"That feels so good…" Her voice tailed off due to how relaxed it was making her feel.

He smirked to himself. Why did he suddenly feel like some professional hairdresser? "Well, it'll do your hair some good, especially after being in all that chlorine. I would've hated for it to start splitting."

"Would it have done that?"

He felt a little happier in realising that she was willing to hold conversation with him. He kept the relaxing scalp massage going till the shampoo lathered up for him to rinse off. "Eventually. It'd make the hair much more fragile anyway if that didn't happen."

Images of blue flooded back to her, and there came a feeling of heaviness. It was almost as if she was fighting to keep her head up above the blue heaviness, and her eyes flashed open, prompting him to quickly pull away as she sat up bolt upright in the tub.

"Clara?"

She felt a little unwell, and she was sure she was starting to come over faint. "I don't feel so good." She grabbed hold of the side of the bath as Chris pressed the wet flannel against her upper back.

He wasn't sure what had happened. He'd only just finished rinsing the soapy water from her scalp and her long hair, and it wasn't as though the water she was in was hot as he tested it himself before she got in.

He frowned in concern at the fact that it could well have been a delayed reaction to the cold water in the swimming pool. He hoped that it wasn't going to develop into full-blown hypothermia but she didn't have chills, which was a good sign. The only thing he could do for her for then was to hold her – reassure her that she was ok.

"Clara…ssh…it's ok now. It's ok, it's over." He could gather she'd suffered a flashback and that it was harking back to what happened before he pulled her out of the pool.

"M-make it stop." Clara immediately grabbed two wet handfuls of his t-shirt and buried her face in it, not caring if she made it damp.

"No one is here to hurt you. It's just you and I. Relax…" He slid an index finger up and down her back through the soaked towel that was still covering her.

The rest of her soak went quite well apart from that small mishap. He wrapped a completely dry towel around her after the water had been drained away and she sat on her bed while he started to comb through her long, dark hair.

"I love you," he stated, sliding his other hand along the wet strands, "and I won't do anything to hurt you."

"I know you won't," she assured him, "but it felt so real and I just got so frightened."

"Flashbacks do that." He pointed out. "They turn out to be even more frightening if they seem or feel as real as they are."

"I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't." Chris was trying very hard to be careful with combing the longer strands of her hair, making sure that the tangles didn't get caught in its teeth. "I haven't got anything in the way of a hairdryer, so I'm going to have to let you go to bed with wet hair."

"That's ok," she flipped her long, damp hair over her shoulder and allowing it to loosely cascade down her back, "it doesn't look any different if I'd have let it dry on its own."

He nodded appreciatively. He'd always liked her hair, admiring the way it would fall into spirals. "You've got lovely hair," he twirled a few strands to make them coil all the more, "it's in such good condition. I could sit here all day and comb it just to watch where the spirals would end."

She came over a little shy at his comment, as he rubbed the partially wet towel into the ends of her hair to get the worst of the dampness off.

"Now then, my princess," he peered at her with his bright blue eyes glimmering, "what do you feel like eating?"

Clara had gotten so relaxed from what he'd done with her that she'd completely overlooked her stomach nagging at her to feed it.

"You can have anything you want," he added coaxingly, "and that includes takeouts."

"Even a Chinese takeout?"

"If that's what you want." Chris knowingly smirked. How did he guess she would've gone for something like that? He wasn't complaining though, as he was more partial to those himself.

"I think my stomach needs feeding."

He laughed a little. "Well, why am I not surprised?" He got his jacket on after he'd gotten off her bed and disappeared out of the room. "I shouldn't be too long in getting that."

She certainly came over more relaxed at the fact that he'd looked after her through her flashback. He didn't do much, but he did enough to stabilise and ground her – pull her back down into reality again. All she really wanted was for someone to hold her and tell her that she'd be ok.

Maybe she didn't need to be taken to a doctor, but he knew that it'd be worth monitoring her till he was sure she'd be fine. For all he knew it could be a temporary improvement in her condition and the next day she could get sick again.

"We should go there more often." Clara remarked, as Chris took her empty plate off her.

"As if we don't go there often enough." He teased, as he put both of them on the side. "We can't make too much of a habit out of going there, it's not good."

"True," she shrugged, as he retook his spot next to her on the sofa, "but why do such bad things taste so good?"

He sat back, inviting her to snuggle up next to him. He wrapped an arm around her as she placed a hand against his flat stomach.

She was amazed at how little fat had accumulated on him after eating so much. He must have really high metabolism, she thought to herself.
Not that she was complaining. She loved the fact that he wasn't exactly stick-thin, but comfortably soft enough to hug and wrap her arms around.

"I didn't know if you wanted to watch a film or anything." He said after a few minutes of watching something that really didn't interest him. "I know there's not a lot on a Saturday night, but…"

She sat up, looking to him through the dim light. "Depends what you have."

"I've got a pile of DVDs I can rifle through for us if you want." He offered.

"What's with you going through them?" Clara teased. "Worried I might pick something naughty?"

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting I keep naughty DVDs and watch them?" He took on a more serious look. "I just don't want the pile to…you know…get disturbed."
Images of the mountain of DVDs collapsing with all of them sliding about like dominoes all over the floor made him squirm.

"Oh, I see. A perfectionist, I take it?"

"No," he smirked, "just with the DVDs."

She brought her legs up onto the sofa in a more comfortable position.

"I'll get us something both of us will like and that you won't sleep through." He disappeared out of sight, and set about rifling through DVD Mountain when he heard his mobile vibrate on his nightstand. Frowning, he answered.
"Karen…" he breathed in mild surprise. "Hey."

"Enjoying your Saturday night?" She asked him at the other end.

He'd hoped she wasn't asking him to come over for some fun or to arrange something for the next day. Not if Clara wasn't fully better. "Immensely." He replied. Before you called, he felt like adding.
His Saturday night would've gone more perfectly if the two of them were alone, spending 'father and daughter time' together. "How's Jess's baby?"

"Fine," she answered, "absolutely fine. It was a close call though. She must've been lying in a strange position in her cot."

"But Karen," he wished the call would end, "babies don't get themselves into strange positions in their own cot. It's usually the responsibility of the mother to make sure they're sleeping properly."

There came a pause at her end. "Are you saying my own daughter almost killed her baby?"

"Well, I wouldn't like to put it like that, but…"

"I can't believe you think my daughter is some sort of killer." Karen stonily replied, cutting off the call.

Well, that made things easier for him. She'd cool off in her own time, and anyway, since when was Jess considered ideal mother material anyway? He went back to picking out a DVD, careful not to cause an avalanche as he slid one from between the others.

"Right then," Chris stated enthusiastically, "see what you make of that." He handed the case to Clara, who read the back of it.

She nodded in agreement. "Seems ok."

"You sure it's something you wanna see?" He sat down next to her. "If you're unsure, I can get another one…"

"Dad," she threw her arms around his waist, "as long as we're together, I don't mind."