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Chapter 12

John was moved from the ICU to an ordinary hospital room the following day and he was glad of the fact that he wouldn't have to share it with anyone else for now. A nurse stopped by after breakfast to measure his blood pressure and John became increasingly aware of the fact that he was staring at him.

"Something wrong?" he asked after a while, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, uhm, no, sorry," the nurse spluttered, "It's just, uhm, well. . . we sort of know each other."

"Ah," John uttered in reply, not knowing what else to say. He had never seen that face before.

"My wife is friends with Clara," he explained, "I'm Rory."

John granted him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I don't remember."

"Yes, yes, of course you don't. Sorry," the nurse mumbled and John concluded that Rory was either weird towards him because of the memory loss or he was a very awkward person in general. Nevertheless, he knew him and everyone who did might hold a clue. There were still so many questions that needed answering, especially the ones circling around the ominous cheque and letter.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure," Rory agreed.

"How was my marriage to Clara?" John enquired carefully and watched Rory's reaction closely.

The nurse, however, chuckled. "Annoying," he said before he instantly turned serious again, "Sorry, not the right word. It's just, uhm, you are. . . very much in love. It's quite adorable most of the time."

John raised his eyebrows at him. "And when it's not adorable?"

"It's annoying."

He nodded in reply. "I see."

If they were as much in love as Rory seemed to think, John probably hadn't cheated on Clara. But then who had he meant to send the letter to? And what was it that he had wanted to discuss with Clara? But if it was as important as the letter had made it sound, John was sure that sooner or later someone would approach him about the matter.

Clara inhaled sharply as she came to a halt in front of the hospital room, clutching her purse in her hands. She could do it. John would eventually remember. She would help him remember.

She spotted him sitting on his bed when she entered the room and John looked up when he noticed her, granting her a soft smile.

"Hello Clara," he said.

"Hi," Clara replied nervously. She felt almost as nervous as she had felt when they had first met. All those months of pining after him, hoping for a sign. Now it seemed like they were going to do it all over again. "How are you?"

John nodded towards a pair of crutches next to his bed. "I've been upgraded to crutches. Dr Jones said that once the cast is off, I will get a walking stick. Doesn't that sound nice?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Clearly John wasn't keen on the prospect of crutches and canes.

"A cane has style," Clara said with a shrug while she pulled up a chair to sit next to him.

"A cane is a walking aid, not an accessory."

"I've brought photos," she blurted out, trying to change the subject, and immediately reached into her handbag to pull them out.

Clara had gone through their albums all evening, selecting the best shots of the two of them because Martha Jones had said that it might help him remember.

"Alright," John replied and sat up straight, "Let's see them."

With a smile Clara showed him the first photograph, which depicted the two of them in front of the registrar's office on their wedding day. John took it from her and stared at it for a long moment.

"I suppose it's our wedding day?" he asked, his eyes still glued to the picture.

"No, just a fancy dress party."

John's head shot up and he frowned at her.

"I'm kidding," Clara laughed, "Of course it's our wedding."

He cracked a light smile before he lowered his gaze to the picture again. "You look beautiful," John said thoughtfully, but before Clara could thank him he looked back up at her. "Where do we live?"

"Uhm, we bought a house right after the wedding. It's beautiful, very quiet. Nice neighbourhood."

John nodded and suddenly he seemed to remember something because he dropped the photo in his lap and reached into the drawer of his bedside table.

"Oh, before I forget. Dr Jones gave me something I had on me when I had the accident," he explained and pulled out a small box with a red bow around it, "You said the day of my accident was our wedding anniversary, so I suppose this was my gift to you."

When John held the box in her direction Clara took it only reluctantly. Their anniversary had been last week and yet it seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had changed since.

When she opened the little box Clara could hardly believe her eyes.

"Oh my God," she uttered in disbelief.

"What? Is something wrong?" John asked instantly.

Still Clara couldn't tear her gaze away from the necklace. She had to make sure that she wasn't dreaming and right now she needed all of her willpower not to start crying.

"Clara?"

"This was my Mum's," Clara said eventually, her voice small and broken. "I lost it when we were on our honeymoon in Milan. I thought I'd never see it again."

"There's a note in there, too. I couldn't really make sense of it," John added.

Clara lifted the padding under the necklace and discovered the note, unfolding it instantly. It was written in broken English, but apparently John had managed to locate her lost necklace in a lost property office in Milan and the owner had sent it back to England. She couldn't believe he had done that for her.

"There was another gift-" John said, but Clara didn't let him finish. She bent forward and threw her arms around his neck in a tight embrace.

"Thank you," she said and bit down on her lip. She couldn't cry now. If she started to cry she wouldn't be able to stop.

"Uhm, Clara," John said and then she felt his hands on her arms, gently pushing her away from him. "Sorry, I'm not so good with hugs."

"Sorry," Clara apologized and instantly distanced herself from him. She wiped a tear from her eyes before she vowed to herself not to cry once more. "Sorry. Uhm, another gift?"

"Yeah, at least I think so," John said and pulled an envelope from the drawer, "This contains two tickets to a ball hosted by old university. I suppose we wanted to go together?"

She smiled at him in reply at the sound of that. "Yes, the ball. You weren't so keen on going, but I kept hinting that I would love to."

"Apparently it worked," he commented.

"Yes," she breathed in reply, "It did."

Clara swallowed hard, still clutching the box with her necklace in her hand. It was the best and most thoughtful present he could have given her and John didn't even remember doing it. He would remember eventually. He needed to remember.

"Do you want to show me the rest of the photos?" John asked and when Clara looked at him she realized something and it made her heart ache.

He felt nothing for her. He didn't even know who she was. Clara loved him so much, especially for his kindness, and right now, when he looked at her, his gaze was empty. There was nothing of his old devotion towards her whatsoever. He needed to remember.

"Sure," Clara agreed and swallowed her tears. She would help him remember.