Thank you so much for the reviews :) And I'm terribly sorry to give you more angst after last night, but it's also a tad cute. . .

Chapter 16

John was only halfway downstairs when he heard someone ring the doorbell furiously. He rolled his eyes and quickly considered his options – there was no way he would could get to the door within the next minute.

"I'm coming!" he shouted, "Slowly. Very slowly."

He hobbled further downstairs, but realized there was no point trying to hurry up when he heard a key being inserted into the lock and the door opened.

"Stay put. You need rest," John heard Missy's voice on the corridor, "Thank God you gave me a key so I could water your plants while you were on holiday."

Missy approached him quickly and a few seconds later she turned around the corner. John was about to greet her, but his friend was a lot faster.

"What in God's name are you wearing?" she sighed and shook her head, "I thought I had told you to burn those ridiculous trousers. I know we're Scottish, but they just make you look like a retired punk, you know?"

"Well, I like them," John retorted and made one last step until he finally felt the floor under his foot again.

"You haven't worn them in years. I told you that if you wanted any kind of chance with Clara, you better throw them out. You listened to me back then. Listen to me again – burn them, pour acid over them, cut them into tiny, little pieces – doesn't matter. But get rid of them."

"No," John growled and then raised his eyebrows as a question started forming in his head, "Hang on, you watered our plants while we were on holiday?"

Missy scoffed. "Of course not. I forgot."

"Right," he blew the air out between his teeth, "Remind me, what are you doing here?"

"Checking on my friend, of course," Missy replied as if it should have been obvious, "Making sure you're not doing anything stupid. Like dressing up as a punk grandpa that is going to get booed off stage. Why aren't you sitting down?"

With a sigh John tightened his grip around his crutches and started to make his way back to the sofa with Missy following him on his heels. She was right, of course, he leg was aching a little and his arms felt sore from dragging himself upstairs and back down. He needed a moment of rest.

"So, how was your first night at home?" his friend enquired curiously while she sank down next to him into the sofa cushions.

"Uhm," he hesitated, "Good, I guess. Bed is a lot more comfortable than in the hospital."

"And Clara?" she arched up her eyebrows, "Did you. . ."

"Did we what?"

"You know."

John let out a groan and rolled his eyes. "Missy, even if it wasn't for the memory loss – my leg is in a cast!"

She gave a shrug in reply.

He took a deep breath and sank further into the pillows. "Clara is a lovely woman. She is sweet and absolutely beautiful. I like her, but you know me better than anyone else. You know how long it takes me to get close to someone."

Missy snorted. "You bet I do. Took you nearly a year last time. And that was with my help. Without it you probably still wouldn't be married."

"I'm making an effort with Clara. I want to get to know her," he replied truthfully and turned around to look at his friend. The way she glanced at him was somewhere between sorry and sympathetic. "But it's gonna take time."

Missy sighed. "Do you think slapping you across the head will bring your memory back?"

"What?"

Before John could react Missy had reached out and given him a whack over the back of his head.

"Ow!"

"Mh," she shrugged and leaned back against the cushions, "It was worth a shot."

"I'm home," Clara announced loudly as she stepped through the door, carrying two large pizza boxes on her arms, "I hope you haven't started making dinner yet because I brought food."

She found John where she had hoped he would be – sitting on the sofa, a book on his lap and he granted her a shy smile. Clara also noticed that he had obviously been upstairs and found the trousers he had asked her for earlier and she had to suppress a chuckle. Somehow he looked somewhere between cool and ridiculous.

"I've considered it," he admitted, "But then I realized I didn't know what you like, so I thought I'd wait for you."

"Wise choice," she said and plopped down next to him on the sofa. Her feet were tired after a long day at school and Clara was insanely hungry. Thank God she had had the idea to buy dinner on the way. "Because I've stopped by the pizza place we usually order from. I brought your favourite."

Clara handed John the box and he opened it curiously, eyeing the contents inside before a smile spread across his face.

"Mhhh, that looks good," he inhaled deeply, "And smells good."

Clara looked down to his trousers once more and let out a sigh when she imagined how he must have struggled to get upstairs without help.

"You know, you could have waited for me to get home. I would have found the trousers for you," she said sincerely.

John turned his head to look at her. "I was bored earlier and decided to have a closer look at the house. I hope it was okay that I went into the bedroom?" he asked, seeming a little nervous, "I wasn't sure whether-"

"It's fine," Clara reassured him instantly, "It's your bedroom, too. I just thought you wouldn't want to go upstairs just now with your leg. So if there's anything else you need-"

"Actually," John interrupted her, "My guitar."

Clara smiled when he mentioned his instrument, hoping that he wanted it so he could pick up playing again. She missed his little music sessions.

"No problem. I'll bring it down right after dinner," she told him with a smile.

Still John looked at her, the tiniest frown on his forehead. "It looked rather dusty. Have I not played much lately?"

"Sadly not," Clara said, "I don't know why, but I'm guessing it was Missy who kept telling you that it was silly. I'd love to hear you play again."

"I'm sure that can be arranged," John smiled at her.

Clara reacted on impulse even though she probably should have thought about it before she reached for his hand and squeezed it in her own. She just missed John so much, missed touching him, hugging him, kissing him, but she should have known better because they had been through it once before.

John instantly flinched and pulled his hand away from her.

"Sorry," Clara mumbled, "Sorry, I know you're not good with touching. I shouldn't have."

He exhaled sharply and hesitated before he spoke.

"No," he replied quietly, "I'm sorry. I want to make an effort."

Carefully he placed his hand back on the sofa until it came to rest right next to her own.

"Please," he said, his voice almost a whisper, and lowered his gaze, "Let's try again."

After taking a deep breath Clara reached out once more and gently laid her hand on top of his own, this time without squeezing it. She could feel John tense up under her touch, but after a moment he slowly started to relax. They would have to do it all over again. Step by step. Clara needed to earn his trust once more.

"We'll get along somehow, won't we?" John asked carefully.

"Yes," Clara replied with a nod, "I'm sure we well."