Chris drove back to his flat that night, not expecting Clara to be still up as she'd been so tired lately. He was surprised to see her sitting up on the sofa, turning round to see him come back. "Am I glad not to see you in bed for once."

She tilted her head at him playfully. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, for one thing," he slid next to her and tilted his body towards her, "it's a Saturday night and I don't consent to you going to bed early on a Saturday night. Secondly, if you're not yet sleepy, I was thinking about taking us both out somewhere…"

"Y-you wanted to take me out as you promised?" Her eyes shone happily from the TV screen's glow.

He nodded slowly, a playful smirk reaching his mouth. "I said I wouldn't break my promise to you, didn't I?"

"Wow…"

"So what I suggest you do, young lady," he started teasingly, "is to get something nice on and let me know when you're ready."

Clara gave him a mock pout. "Are you saying I'd take a while to get ready?"

Chris laughed a little. "I don't think you'd take that long – you're pretty enough without getting dolled up anymore."

They both went to a restaurant that she'd set her eyes on after her trip into the centre that time.

"This isn't too expensive for you…is it?" She fretted at making him spend too much on her.

"Don't be silly." He placed a hand on her shoulder as they both stood outside by the main door. "I said I would treat you and that's what I wanna do. Besides," he flicked through the amount of money he had on him, "nothing is too much for you."

She blushed madly at his flattering comment. She knew full well that he loved her and would do anything for her, so why should he go to so much trouble showing it? She twirled a few of her lustrous dark strands shyly as they went in together.

"Sit wherever you want."

Once she decided on somewhere to sit, Chris slid up behind her chair to pull it out for her. She glowed inside at his chivalry.

"Everything's ok, right?" He realised that he'd said that at least three times before, and he was sure she was getting bored of him saying that.

Clara reached over the table and placed a hand over his. She caressed the soft, dewy flesh tenderly. "You sound worried."

He swallowed hard at her answer. He didn't mean to sound worried and he knew that if he worried, he most certainly made her worry. "I don't mean to come across that way…"

"Then don't worry," she smiled softly, "silly."

"How do you feel now?"

She took a while to answer. "Better now I'm out of the flat, I guess."

"So the change of scenery has done you some good then?" He assumed.

"It's cleared my mind a little more."

"In what way?"

She frowned a little at how probing his question was. Had he inexplicably turned into some sort of shrink? She hoped not. Although…he was her dad and so she should feel comfortable talking to him about anything. "About what I want."

This was news to him. When had she ever considered anything other than living with him and maintaining a good enough relationship with him?

"I wanna move out."

"Clara, I…" He shifted about a little in the chair he was sitting on. "It isn't that I don't want you to have your own life, 'cause I do, very much so. But it's a little early to consider moving out from my place to one of your own. For a start, you need to ensure you feel well enough to be by yourself."

"I do feel well enough."

"Ok," he tried again, "I know that over the past few days you've gotten on better than you have done previously, but that doesn't mean to say necessarily that you've healed. Post-traumatic stress takes a lot of time to get over and be made liveable without the need for intervention."

She cast her gaze from his bright blue eyes that shone from the slowly flickering candle in the middle of the table.

"Secondly, you need a more stable income. It's no good me having to fork out monthly rents on your place as well as mine, 'cause that's not fair. That's going to take a huge chunk out of my account and I've had enough problems with that as you well know."

"You don't have to fork out any money for my rent when it comes to me renting though, dad."

"So you've got a job?" Chris came over more incredulous.

"You know I've got a job."

"Don't tell me you still work at that bar in the centre." His voice hinted slight stoniness within it. He thought he'd told her to pack that in.

"The manager wanted me to stay on," Clara shrugged, "I couldn't say no, could I?"

"But that doesn't matter or make it any better." He explained. "You're working there, doing things that even I don't wanna know about. That's how bad doing that sort of job is."

"You're making it sound like I'm dirty." She frowned more. "That isn't my intention, but I wanted money quick – especially to make up for all the money I spent on your card."

"Clara, please listen to me." He pulled her hands closer to him over the table. "That sort of job is not for you, not at your age. There are other better jobs for you to go for out there."

She didn't like the way he was talking to her.

"You're better than that."

She pulled her hands away from Chris. "You're making me sound like a slut."

"I'm not," he stated softly, "I promise you that I'm not."

She sat back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. It was just as well the two of them had finished eating and he was going to pay. She suddenly felt like she hadn't eaten at all from how sordid he'd made her feel.
"I wanna go home." She noted stonily.

"Well, we can go once I sort out the bill." He didn't say anything to her stony remark, choosing to fish out a few notes to settle the bill. "I guess you're feeling a little sleepy after eating so much."

She nodded dimly, saying nothing more to him.

After they went back to the flat, Clara went straight to her room and closed the door.

What could he have done about it? He was too slow to have stopped her anyway as he didn't bank on her hidden anger towards him, and she had a clever way of hiding her intense emotions – turning them on and off like the flick of a switch.
He stood by her door, feeling slightly worried that she wasn't well again. "Do you wanna open the door for me, love?"

No answer.

"Clara, I'm sorry for saying what I did, but I just want what's best for you as any parent would. After everything that had gone on between your mum's partner and yourself, why wouldn't I think that way?" He drew in a small sigh. "Please don't seclude yourself like this, it only destroys things between us."

"You're a spoilsport." Her voice came out muffled from behind the door. "You don't want what's best for me at all – you just wanna put me off doing whatever I want."

"Well I'm sorry you feel that way," Chris told himself to remain calm with her, "but that isn't my intention at all. I want you to have a job that you like, but…just not this. Please, honey…unlock the door."

"No," she shot back angrily, "go away and leave me alone."

One last attempt wouldn't hurt, surely? "We can do anything you want…anything at all. Come on, it's Saturday night. We can't have you shutting yourself away like this all night."
He knew full well that she didn't want to stay in there like a hermit and he was trying so, so hard to lure her back out. Even if they were to do something completely gratuitous like share a massive tub of ice cream between them whilst huddled up on the sofa together, he didn't care – just as long as they were together. "Ok well, please yourself then."

So much for them trying to be a perfect family.

Clara remained curled up on her bed, feeling too tired and drained to stop the tears rolling down her cheeks and for her to hear them drop onto the blankets faintly. She just couldn't see it from his point of view, although did his point of view matter to her?
She wanted to do whatever she wanted without his intervention, and seeing as though she was due to be on call for the next night, she was going to go whether he liked it or not!

"I don't care," she mumbled to herself as she started to take her glitzy pendant off, "I'm still going to work tomorrow night and he can't stop me."