The thought plagued her as they silently ate the bacon he'd made and the quick scrambled eggs she'd offered to whip up as proof that she did, indeed, know how to cook and soon there was a knock at the door and the Doctor was ushering Martha into the living room, whispering in her ear in a way that made Clara suspicious. Martha moved towards her with a glance down at her shorts and night shirt, and Clara felt a twinge of embarrassment at not having changed into actual clothes, but she'd been distracted.

By the man now grinning in her direction and clapping his hands together to tell her, "I'm going out for a bit, give you two some privacy – be back for lunch?"

Clara stared at him a moment before nodding abruptly and laughing nervously, replying quietly, "Yeah, lunch, that'll be… yeah."

The woman beside the Doctor looked her over curiously as the Doctor departed through the back door, something else that was plaguing Clara – why did he leave through the alleyway? What was he avoiding? Where was he going? They were the new questions she found herself thinking about randomly throughout the day, whenever he would disappear for her therapy sessions or Martha's visits because he didn't want her to feel as though he were lingering, or hovering, so she could concentrate on the exercises and the questions asked of her.

"Let's get you in your chair," Martha told her quietly, settling her bag of equipment down on the coffee table in the living room and Clara turned quickly with a shake of her head.

She snapped defensively, "I'll sit on the couch, if that's alright."

Martha's eyes came up to find hers and Clara rubbed at a spot above her brow while settling a palm at her hip as she took a breath, knowing the tone was unnecessary. "Are you alright?" Martha questioned.

Clara smiled, gesturing at her before dropping her other hand and nodding, "Yeah, sorry, it's been an odd morning."

"He says you're starting to remember little things – things about him."

"I remembered a tool," Clara told her with a smirk.

Nodding, Martha reached for a small scanning device, holding it in her right hand while planting the other end in her left and she stated, "You don't seem pleased." Then she gestured, "Sit… wherever you'd like, Clara."

Clara glanced at the wheelchair she'd pushed into a corner before she dropped carefully onto the couch and clasped her hands in her lap, asking, "Am I hurting myself – not using the chair?"

Martha knelt in front of her, placing her device on the ground before kneeling to remove Clara's prosthetic as Clara stared at the offending object across the room. She shifted back slightly, taking in Clara's look of sadness, and she told her honestly, "You could be, yes."

With a small shy smile, Clara turned to look at Martha as the other woman stared up at her sympathetically, and she asked, "Were we friends?" Then she looked to the ground, muttering, "I'm sorry, I've never asked – hadn't thought to ask, but, were we friends?"

There was a small wave of guilt washing over her as she watched Martha's features soften because she knew, immediately, that they had been – they'd been good friends and Clara had never thought to ask her. Had never considered it even though she knew the doctor in front of her had been friends with the Doctor who'd entrusted Clara to her so easily.

Coming up on her knees, Martha reached for Clara's hands and she smiled, "Yes, Clara, we were friends. The best of friends."

She felt as though she might cry because she couldn't remember, but she could see the affection in Martha's eyes and she squeezed her hands, telling her quietly, "I'm sorry."

But Martha merely laughed and pushed to stand, picking up Clara's prosthetic after giving Clara's hands one last friendly caress. "Cleaning?" She asked her clinically, a small grin on her face.

"Yup," Clara responded with a nod.

"Any issues? Discomfort? Walking, sitting?" Martha probed.

Leaning her elbow on the arm of the couch and settling her temple into her fingers, Clara shook her head and watched the other woman scan the inside of the prosthetic with a set of red beams that shot out from her device. "Nope, it's still a little weird for a bit in the morning; a little achy at the end of the day, but no real complaints, I suppose."

Martha sighed and set the prosthetic down on the couch beside Clara. She knelt again and reaching for her leg, slipping the sleeve with her pin, and the sock she wore, off before glancing at the scarred tissue in front of her with a frown, "Everything…" she began.

"Cleaning according to instruction," Clara interrupted with a smirk, "Not really noticing any shrinkage that would require extra socks just yet, no pain or loss of sensation – all fairly normal according to the nurse."

With a huff of a laugh, Martha held her leg delicately and scanned it while Clara watched, knowing she was taking measurements. Martha sighed and asked, "Why don't you use the chair?"

Shrugging, Clara glanced at it and she admitted, "I suppose it makes me feel handicapped and I know… I know people function just fine in wheelchairs; handicapped people aren't lesser people…"

"This morning, you knew I was coming over and you put the leg on anyways, Clara," she clicked something on her scanner and set the stump of her leg on her own thigh to examine it visually, fingers working over her skin, Clara knew, waiting for a reaction that might negate what she'd said before. "You should have been in the chair; it's alright to relax – no one expected you to get back to your life so quickly after what you've been through."

She huffed, "What's there to get back to?" Clara frowned as Martha met her eye, "Can't remember anyone who'd been in my life. On leave from a job I'll lose if I don't get my memories of teaching back. Everything I have to get back to right now is ten years in the future."

Martha held her leg and shook her head, "Everything is right in front of you – whether you remember it or not. Jobs can be replaced; I could get you a place at UNIT, even without all of your memories. Because you're clever and you're determined and there are very few people in this universe I would trust and you're there, Clara, right at the top of that short list." She smiled when Clara blushed and turned away, "And everyone you've ever loved, they're still here, still in the exact same way they were."

"Is the Doctor dangerous?" Clara asked boldly.

For a moment, Martha simply stared at her, and then she slowly asked, "Why would you think that?"

Shrugging, Clara slipped her leg out of the other woman's grasp and she shifted on the couch as Martha stood and sat next to her, giving her a concerned stare as she mulled the answer over. "He's not forthright about anything," Clara told her.

"Is your father?" Martha teased.

She smiled and replied, "Fair point," but her face contorted as she continued, "But it's not just that – I know they're both hiding things from me; things they don't think I'm capable of handling and that's terrifying enough, but I just have so many questions and he avoids them, or he distracts from them."

"For instance…" Martha prompted.

"His Sonic," Clara said plainly, "He has… a wand… that fixes electronics – who has that? And he says it's a tool, but he could just as easily blow up the stove as he could turn down the heat. Seems like it's a tool that's also a weapon."

"A lamp is a tool that could also be a weapon in the right circumstances," Martha pointed out.

"You're defending him," Clara accused lightly.

She smiled and leaned into the sofa at her side, "Clara, he's my friend. And yes, he lies, and yes, he has his issues – he's not perfect, even though he sometimes thinks he is – and yes, given the right circumstances, again, yes, he can be dangerous. Anyone could be."

Clara chewed her lip anxiously, but Martha shook her head and she glanced up. The other woman was considering her and it was another one of those looks – one she'd gotten used to seeing from the Doctor, or her father – one that held some memory she couldn't remember. It was a good memory, she could tell, and she imagined they'd spent Saturday afternoons in a coffee shop swapping stories of their husbands and that notion brought a smile to her face as she understood: Martha Smith was her friend.

"I promise you, Clara," Martha told her quickly, "I promise you all he has is love for you and the only dangerous thing about him would be what happens to the person who harms you intentionally." Turning to her right, she lifted the prosthetic and sighed, "Now you, and that chair, have to learn to get along."

The frown on her face was automatic and Martha released a breathy laugh as Clara sighed and told her quietly, "Oh, fine," waiting as Martha stood and went to pull the chair out of the corner to wheel towards her, stopping just beside her and holding tight to it as Clara stood on her left foot and then dropped down, adjusting herself comfortably and groaning as she shifted back with a glance behind her.

"It doesn't make you less of a person," Martha repeated, "Just like you said."

She turned the chair slowly and faced the woman standing in front of her before dropping her hands in her lap and looking around with a shaky shift of her lips. "I don't want them looking after me."

It was one of a dozen silent worries she carried – if she didn't stand on her own two feet, the Doctor and her father would never let her be an individual; they would always see her as someone who needed help and Clara knew she wasn't that person at nineteen and she wouldn't be that person at thirty and when she glanced up at Martha, she saw the acknowledgement of her unspoken words.

Martha nodded slowly and watched Clara pick at her fingers against her stomach. "I've heard you've got a mean punch," she told Clara, seeing the smirk that brightened her reddening face. "If either of them makes you feel as though you can't accomplish something on your own, I would say you're at just about the right level to inflict some serious damage now."

Clara released a bellow of a laugh before bringing her hand up to cover her mouth until she clamped her lips together in a tight smile. "Do you think we could go out for coffee sometime," Clara asked shyly. "You and I, maybe it would help me remember us…"

Already nodding, Martha grinned to say, "Thought you'd never ask," before she moved towards the kitchen and began rummaging as Clara moved towards her awkwardly, unaccustomed to the wheelchair. She watched the woman pull a tea kettle up onto the stove as she raised her eyebrows and declared, "Today we'll start with tea and then a walk around the block."

With a devious look, Clara groaned, "By walk, you mean I sit in this chair."

Shrugging, Martha teased, "I'll push you, if you like."

Clara shook her head and they laughed together as Martha brewed the tea and they spent the next hour strolling through the neighborhood talking randomly about the neighbors and the weather and what Clara had been up to at home while Martha spoke vaguely about work. She noticed the other woman's measured words and carefully crafted stories and she sighed because she understood that as much as her father was her father and the Doctor was her husband and this woman was her friend they were all keeping secrets from her about her life.

And she was growing tired of pretending it was for her own good.