Thank you for the reviews :)

Chapter 11

The nurses helped him back into the wheelchair after he had come out of the MRI machine and he plopped down with a thud like a bag filled with wet clothes. The heavy cast made it impossible for John to move properly.

"How long will I have to be driven around in this thing?" he asked, growling a little. He hated relying on others for the simplest things.

"Just until you've regained your strength. Then we'll get you a pair of crutches," Martha Jones explained in her usual friendly manner.

"Great," John replied grumpily, his voice heavy with sarcasm, "Can't wait."

The doctor appeared to ignore his last comment as she started pushing him through the hospital corridors back to his room and on the way John asked her if he could have a look at his MRI results once they came back. Dr Jones agreed and they continued the rest of the way in silence.

However, once she had pushed the wheelchair into his hospital room John found a surprise waiting for him there. The pretty, young woman from yesterday was standing by the window, granting him a light smile, and yet there was so much sadness in her gaze that it tugged at his heartstrings. John knew why that was. Clara was his wife and he didn't even remember her.

"I'll help you back into your bed," Dr Jones said, but John held her back.

"No need," he said, "I'm tired of lying around."

"Alright," Martha Jones replied eventually, "I'll come back later with the results."

John waited until the doctor had left the room, all the while keeping an eye on the woman in front of him. One of the first thoughts he had was that he was probably an extremely lucky man, apart from the accident. Clara was beautiful, there was absolutely no denying that. She had a sweet, round face and incredibly large eyes. Right now John even questioned the fact that she was his wife at all because how could it be that such a pretty woman would fancy him? John, on the other hand, understood all too well why he must have fallen for her. There was an aura of warmth around her that simply drew him in even now that he knew nothing about her except her name.

"How are you feeling?" John asked her after Dr Jones had left.

Clara's smiled widened. "I'm pretty sure I should be asking you that."

"Yeah, but I asked first."

"I'm not the one with the cast around my leg."

John looked down at the heavy, white bandage and laughed for a moment before his features grew serious once more. "For the circumstances I'm doing quite well, I think. Except for the memory thing." He paused and looked at her and right now he simply had to ask. "Are you really my wife?"

"Yes," Clara confirmed with a small nod, her voice had dropped to a whisper, "The day of your accident was our first wedding anniversary."

John could clearly see that she was upset about that, but he just needed to know more, otherwise he wouldn't be able to believe it.

"How did we meet? I mean," he nodded in her direction, not wanting to state the obvious. She was younger. Most people would argue that she was too young for him.

"Missy," Clara said simply.

And all of a sudden it all made a little more sense. John remembered the fight with his best friend, although now he knew that it must have been five years ago, and Missy had pretty much told him to find a girlfriend or she would find one for him. Apparently she had succeeded in that.

Clara chuckled softly, but her expression remained sad. "Missy gave me your number, telling me it was a helpline. I called you, ranting about my broken router and you. . . well, you helped me."

"I see," John replied even though he couldn't understand how it had happened at all, how they had fallen in love. He hoped that he would remember at some point because Clara seemed lovely, but right now it seemed a little too much to take in. "I'm gonna need a while to. . . well. . . get used to that idea."

"You are my husband, John," she told him and her eyes seemed wet when he looked at her, "We love each other."

"I don't even remember you," he argued weakly, "I don't know your last name or your favourite flowers or-"

"Smith," Clara suddenly interrupted him and finally a light smile appeared on her lips. John couldn't quite follow. "We're married, so my last name is Smith."

He looked at her for a long moment until the words had sunk in and then John couldn't help but laugh. "Of course," he said, "That was a bit silly of me."

Clara smiled kindly at him in reply. "That's okay. It was a bit funny."

Then silence fell over the hospital room and John started to shift in his wheelchair to cover up the awkwardness. It was bizarre. Everything about it was absolutely bizarre. Yesterday, or what he had assumed to be yesterday, he had been a doctor at this very hospital and a widower. After the death of his wife John had dedicated himself to his work so that he could help people and maybe spare a husband or wife out there the pain that he had gone through.

"Dr Jones said I no longer work here at the hospital," he suddenly began, "What do I do now?"

"You have your own practice now," Clara explained, "Don't worry. I've called your receptionist and he is taking care of your appointments."

"Why?" he asked blatantly, "I never wanted my own private practice. Why would I do that?"

She looked at him for a very long time, obviously considering her words before she spoke.

"The job was killing you, John," Clara replied heavily, "The night shifts were killing you."

Yes, the job had been killing him, but he had loved helping people and John couldn't see why he would have changed his entire life.

"You did it for me," Clara added, "You quit so we could spend more time together and as far as I know you've never regretted it."

John nodded softly. Of course he had done it for Clara. He hardly knew anything about her at all and yet he could tell that she had been special to him. That he was special to her. It would take a long time to get to know her.

"I should go," Clara said after a moment, "Dr Jones said not to overwhelm you. But if you like I could come back tomorrow?"

John smiled at her in reply. "I would like that very much."

When he looked at her Clara forced a smile as well, but it was too obvious from her face that their meeting hadn't gone like she had hoped.

When Clara had left John was about to call for a nurse to help him back into the bed when Dr Jones stepped through the door once more and offered to help him with it. He struggled with the heavy cast and couldn't wait until it would finally come off again.

"Oh, before I forget," Martha Jones said and pulled something out of her pocket, "You had a couple of things on you when you were admitted. The box looked a lot like a present, so I wasn't sure whether I should hand it to your wife or whether that was something you'd prefer to do in person."

She granted him a smile as she left a small jewellery box and two envelopes on his bedside table and John reached for them as soon as Dr Jones had left the room. The box itself looked quite fancy and when he opened it John found a small golden necklace inside, no doubt a gift for Clara for their first wedding anniversary. Then he moved on to the envelope, the first of which contained two tickets to a ball hosted by his former university and again John suspected them to be an anniversary present. However, the second envelope made him pause and John wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

He was more than a little surprised to find a cheque for no less than £5000 inside as well as a letter. He unfolded and read it instantly.

Hello dear,

I know you declined my offer the last time we met, but I would still like to help in any way I can. Just take it and use it wisely.

I haven't had a chance to speak to Clara yet and I would like to wait until after our anniversary. I don't think she's going to like it, but it's the right thing to do.

See you soon,

John.

He read the letter over and over, but it made less sense each time. John moved on to the envelope, but couldn't find any address or name on it, not even the cheque was completely filled out. Either he had planned on writing it down at a later point or he had wanted to deliver the letter in person. But to whom? And what had he wanted to discuss with Clara that she wouldn't have liked? Had he been cheating on his wife?

Suddenly the ringing of his phone tore John from his thoughts and he picked it up instantly.

"Yes? This is John Smith speaking?"

In response he heard the first familiar voice since he had woken up. "What on earth have you done now?!"

John sighed. "Missy," he breathed, "I'm so glad you've called. I have questions."