Ok, I have no idea what a broken ankle feels like or how it's treated.

So if this is not medically correct, forgive me.

SPECIAL THANKS TO knittingfamine, who proofreads this story:)

ALSO, VOTING TIME

Would you like whouffle to well hook up next chapter, or in like three chapters.

LEt me know.

The first thing Elijah heard upon entering Clara's apartment was a crash. That was not a promising sound, seeing as he knew for a fact that she was alone, because Rose was on a not so secret date with his brother. He had come by to drop off her newly bought phone (he felt it was necessary after he broke her last) and was rather alarmed by the sound that split through the silence like a cracked immediately bolted towards the source of the sound, which happened to be the kitchen, worried that Clara had fallen over and broken her other ankle. It seemed like the sort of thing she would do.

The first thing he noticed was that she was not using her crutches. The next thing he saw was Clara herself, sitting in the middle of some sort of liquid, with flour coating her face and arms. She was glaring rather avidly at her blue encased foot, her arms crossed and her mouth puckered with annoyance.

"What did that ankle ever do to you?" he asked before he could stop himself, and she looked up, a rather confused expression tainting her features.

"How did you get in?" she asked, frowning slightly, "Did I leave the door unlocked again?"

"Rose gave me a key." he tossed her the silver piece of metal. "She wanted me to check on you. Which was a good idea." he gestured towards her current predicament.

"Are you just going to stand there Chin Boy, or are you going to help me up?" He immediately obeyed, blushing a rather fierce red at his stupidity before hitching his arms around her and pulling her upright. He was quite aware of the way her body felt pressed against his, as he whirled her around and placed her in the kitchen chair. He then grabbed a rag from the counter and began cleaning off her cast.

"You shouldn't be cooking right now." he lightly scolded her, wiping off the last remnants of milk, and starting on the floor. "You've still got four weeks to go."

"Ugh. Don't remind me." she said, watching him clean. "Sorry about this." she added as an afterthought, biting her lip.

"It is my pleasure to serve you." he said a smile on his face, and then moved to the mixing bowl. "what are you making?"

"A souffle." she sighed, "but it's gonna fail..."

Clara was correct. Except they had to flee outside to escape the gaseous fumes emitting from the stove, which was new. They had called the fire department, and now she was collapsed on the grass, laughing her head off, because she could hear the sirens, just to help with a burning souffle that got out of hand.

He was laughing too, as the fire teams walked in and out of the house, throwing the pair odd looks. When Rose came home however, the laughter died. Rose was livid, yelling at Clara about how they had no where to stay now, at least for a week, while all their stuff was washed to get the smoke out.

Clara sat there in silence through it all, but one last glance from Elijah sent her into peals of laughter again.

"You can stay at my place." Elijah assured Rose, "I'm sure John wouldn't mind having you over." Rose visibly blushed, but didn't say anything, just put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips.

"Alright then." she said finally, "Clara, you owe me."

"I do not!" Clara protested, "I've picked you up from the-"

"Alright." Rose cut her off again, amid a curious glance from Elijah.

He walked up to the door of his son's strange house, his dirty boots scuffing up the polished steps. He took out the key, the key that John had given to him incase he ever stopped wandering and wanted to stay with them for a while.

He twisted the key in the lock, and the door fell open. Red dirt fell from his shoulders as he stepped inside, his gruff face regarding the odd house interior with dull eyes. It was crazy, just like Elijah was. Elijah was to crazy for his own damn good. He stepped onto the polished floor, and looked around at the house. He chose the grated side, the dirt from his boots falling through and dusting the books below.

He marched up the stairs like a soldier, approaching the room he had once shared with Gallifrey. He stepped inside, and shut the door, before taking out his outdated phone. He dialed John's number.

"Dad?" John's voice sounded surprised.

"I'm in the house." he said gruffly, "need a place to stay for a few weeks."

Clara limped towards the house, greatly supported by Elijah. Her crutches had not been salvaged from the house, and they had been informed that they would never be moving back in. The souffle had apparently created a new toxic gas, and scientists wanted to examine it. They had evacuated the whole building, and even though the government had promised to pay them a large sum of money, they would be living at Elijah and John's for a while.

"It is partly my fault." Elijah had said, "and I refuse to make you have to buy a new house. We have tons of extra rooms." Rose had seemed to perk up at the mention of moving in with them, something Clara hadn't failed to notice.

He led them into the odd house, and quickly set Clara down in a blue chair by the door.

"You're heavy." he groaned, ignoring her glare. Rose sighed.

"I'm so going to regret this." she said, "but Clara, do you want to borrow some of my clothes?"

"Clothes? But they're all in the our house... YOU HAVE NOT BEEN SLEEPING OVER HERE HAVE YOU?" Clara shrieked.

"I'll take that as a yes please." Rose responded, and skipped lightly up the stairs. Clara turned her horrified glance to Elijah.

"Oh dear lord." was all he said.

"Should we try and make another souffle?" he asked Clara, setting a tea cup in front of her. She'd taken a shower, and he tried not to notice her dripping wet hair, or the slight droplets that gathered on her eyelashes and dissolved when she blinked. Rose had to help her in the shower, but other than that, she seemed to be fine with the whole ankle thing.

"Better not." she said, "we might have to evacuate the whole town." he laughed,and sat in the dining room chair across from her, resting his face on his sleeve.

"I can't believe that for the last week, Rose has been sleeping in my house and I never noticed." he said, and she nodded.

"Yeah, better wise up chin boy." she advised, grinning slightly at him. He only protested lightly, but suddenly found himself very close to her. Her brown eyes were wide, staring into his with curiosity, and almost... yearning?

"Where is the tea?" a gruff voice that he knew all too well said from behind them. Elijah whipped around, and Clara let out a small shriek. "Oh." his father said, "I suppose..." he cut off. "I thought you were John." he turned and walked into the kitchen. He looked down at his tea cup, before standing up abruptly. He turned and left.

"Elijah!" Clara called after him, but he kept walking.

"I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU!" she yelled at him, as she fell down next to him, nearly crying because her ankle was on fire.

"Why the hell did you follow me?' he asked, jumping up and looking at her cast. His eyebrows bunching up in concern.

"Because." she said, "You looked sad." he had to laugh. Where did she come from? This short little girl with the odd nose and easy smile. His life had resorted to shades of grey and black after River left, and suddenly in came this small bundle of sassiness and wonder, spraying his life back into color. He felt alive around her, felt like he could breathe.

For the months following that dreaded Monday, he couldn't breathe. It was like something was pressing on his chest. He would sit alone, wondering why the hell this had happened to him. Seeing his Dad had brought back that feeling, and he couldn't be around her, couldn't let her see him like that.

"You never asked me why I made a souffle today." she said, and he looked down at her. Her voice sounded wistful, her eyes glassy.

"Why?" he asked her, his lips forming the question, even though all he wanted to do was kiss her.

"because my Mum died five years ago, today." she said, flopping back on the grass. "That and I was bored because I have a bloody broken ankle."

"I'll have to carry you back." he groaned, flopping back on the grass. "Damn." he took her hand anyways, pressing it gently to his mouth.

"She got sick... like I told you." her voice broke. He sat up, and pulled her close. He'd wanted to hold her for so long, and he pressed his face into her hair as she silently cried, shaking into his shoulder. He found himself crying to, because they both were so damn messed up inside, because he was lost and didn't know why. "I don't know where I am." she sobbed, "I don't know who I am."

They were both lost, he realised, lost because things got messed up, thing got tangled, until he could hardly see through the tense entanglement of vinesthat seemed to be all his life was made of now. When he really thought about it, Clara was the only one he had left now. John had given up on him long ago, his Father didn't talk to him, and his Mother was dead, his wife gone and left him.

"You are Clara Oswald, and I'm Elijah Smith." he said reassuringly, although the words felt false, forced out, because he didn't know. He didn't know who they were, or what purpose they had here.

"Clara Oswald." she repeated, her face still pressed into her shoulder.

"My impossible girl." he finished.

Rose uneasily peeked into the kitchen, staring at the man who robotically drank a cup of tea. Elijah and Clara had disappeared, and she couldn't believe they would do this to her.

"Rose?" John asked from behind her, and she whirled around, a guilty look already installed on her face.

"There's a man in your kitchen." she whispered.

"John. How nice to see you." The man said, in the same gruff robotic voice.

"Who are you?" Rose asked rather rudely

"Rose, let me introduce you to my Father."

Elijah wished he could have stayed there with Clara all day. He still held her close to him, even though both their tears had faded away. Her body fit perfectly against his, her face still firmly pressed into his shoulder, and she was still slightly shaking, even though she kept murmuring that she was alright at regular intervals.

He was the one to pull away, his eyes staring down at the grass. "I suppose." he said, slowly, "That we should head back." in the back of his mind, he rather foolishly hoped that she would refuse, and bring her lips to his in a passionate embrace.

That didn't happen.

"You're probably right." she said, and held out her arms again. He helped her up, pushing away any thoughts that she may like his embrace "Just help me limp slowly." he ignored this, and swept her up in his arms.

"I'm a lot stronger than I look." he said, and she nodded.

"I noticed, since you seem to sweep me up like I'm nothing."

He laughed slightly, and she laughed too. He loved the way her laugh shook slightly against him, the way it sounded, like a peal of bells.

That's why he was surprised when the bells were cut off, and she collapsed fully in his arms. He looked down, and his only thought was, why is this strange dart sticking out of my arm and Clara's neck. Before everything went black.

Amy was getting really annoyed with Rory. He seemed to understand that something was wrong with her, and wouldn't leave her alone. She knew she couldn't tell him. She wasn't worried about her own safety, she was worried about his. If she could convince anyone, sadly it couldn't be Rory.

Throwing her hair over her shoulder, she stepped out from their apartment, ignoring his calls after her. She needed to get out.

"Amy!" he caught up to her anyways, and crossed in front of her, his arms crossed. "You forgot your lunch." he handed her the small plastic bag. "It's your first day."

"Stop worrying." she said, and it was true, she had accepted the modeling job. "It won't do me any-" everything went black.

Clara didn't know where she was. She woke up in a black room, where the darkness pressed down on her like a cloud, and the silence rang around her like a crowd of angry bees. She tried to stand up, but another splitting pain from her ankle sent her soaring back down to the ground. "Where am I?" she called out, against her better judgement.

"Clara?" Elijah whispered, and she cried out in relief, feeling around for him in the dark. She found his hand, and took it tightly.

"Elijah?" she whispered, and she felt his hand fumble around her face, cupping it in his hands. He rested his forehead against hers.

"Where are we?" he asked, but she simply shook her head, because she had no clue. As soon as she moved, the lights switched on. It was blinding. She dropped her hand from Elijah's, and brought to her eyes instead, crying out slightly as the harsh fluorescent lights invaded her skull.

"Is this..." Elijah stammered, and she brought her eyes to his face, blinking rapidly. "a hotel?" he finally stammered out, looking around at the blank yellow hall, with it's false end tables and fake flowers.

"Yeah." she said, automatically recognising where they were. "My Mum used to take me here when I was little. We'd rent one of the rooms, and spend the night." she sat up, adjusting her feet so her broken ankle wasn't directly under her. "It shut down a couple years ago though..."

"It looks brand new." Elijah said.

"Elijah? Clara?" Amy called, appearing from the end of the hall (with Rory) and bolting towards them. Clara threw her arms around her ginger friend, pulling her down to the ground.

"Have you figured out where we are yet?" Rory asked them grimly.

"The old hotel at the end of the town." Clara replied, as Elijah helped her up, before scooping her into his arms, carrying her like a sack of potatoes again. He reached towards a door handle.

"Don't!" Amy said quickly, slapping his hand away. He looked at her in alarm, Clara swinging lightly over his shoulder. "There's... things in the rooms."

"Things?"

"Nightmares." Elijah approached the door, his hand stretching uncertainly towards the door knob.

"Don't." Clara advised him, and he sighed, giving in, propping her more firmly on his shoulder.

"Thank you." Amy sighed in relief, closing her eyes for a second. "Why don't we find the lobby?"

They found it rather quickly and easily, and Elijah immediately set Clara down in one of the chairs, groaning and stretching out his back. "We really need to get out of the habit of me carrying you around places." he said, and she rolled her eyes.

"Stop moaning." she said lightly, "It was because of you I broke it in the first place."

"Was not!"

"Um... you were the one pulling me through the forest!"

"Yes...Well...I-... OH shut up!" he blushed, and she grinned. Amy shook her head slightly at the pair of them, a slight frown turning her features.

"Aren't you married?" she asked him, rather rudely, her eyes bright.

"Was. Married." he corrected her, "She dumped me, rather rudely."

"Good for her." Amy muttered.

"What is your problem?" Clara suddenly shot out, sitting up straight in her chair. Elijah and Rory both looked highly uncomfortable.

"My problem," Amy said, drawing out every word. "Is that he, is cheating on his wife, by flirting with you!"

"Divorced." Clara said slowly, "Or do I have to spell it out for you?" the two women glared at each other.

"Cat fight!" a loud, rude, american, male voice called out. "But I have to say," a male man, who was a hunk of... well... Clara wasn't about to even think it, walked in the room. "You two are mighty fine."

"She's engaged." Rory said tightly, eyeing the newcomer and drawing Amy to his side. The man, ignoring Rory, knelt down next to Clara and taking her hand in one fluid motion.

"Captain Jack Harkness." he said, kissing the back of her hand, "Do you know where the hell we are?"

Elijah spluttered.