Chapter 4: One Day at a Time

"Hi," he said lamely.

The room around them had stilled so completely with tension that even the drop of a pin would have sent out waves into the atmosphere. Somewhere behind him, he heard shuffling. "Well," he heard his dad say. "Let's maybe give these two some room. May, why don't you join us all in the lounge for a bit?"

"But—"

"Listen to your Granddad, May," Clara said firmly, although she kept her eyes squarely on Matt's face—likely trying to read his reaction to her words.

For his part, Matt couldn't feel more shocked than he already was. Was Clara suggesting that May was his child? His eyes instinctively flicked beyond Clara to the young woman who had followed her into the kitchen. He may have tried to deny it, if only to spare himself the emotional upheaval that learning about her existence was sure to bring, but she looked to be about the right age, and it was her eyes that were the dead giveaway. She had his eyes.

His attention turned back to Clara as the girl, May, was pulled out of the room and the two of them were left alone.

Clara bit down on her lip. "So—"

"Clara—"

They both paused after starting to speak at the same time. It was Clara who broke first by waving a hand back towards the kitchen table. "Should we sit?"

He nodded numbly and felt her follow him back towards the table. For a split second, he thought about pulling up a chair beside her, but instead made himself sit directly across from her. A whole new wave of chaotic emotions were rolling through him as he felt himself lean back in his chair and flail his hands about aimlessly. "So…I don't even know where to begin. I can't seem to decide what to even feel yet."

He saw her flinch, and instantly regretted his words. "That's fair," she said. "Completely. I don't think I could have predicted how this would feel...for either of us."

Matt's eyes drank her in again—this time with enough focus to take in more detail. She was older, certainly, but so was he. Time had been kind to her. Maybe even more so than it had to him. Besides those few new laugh lines and a freckle or two in places he couldn't recall them being in before, she largely looked the same. Still beautiful. Still his Clara.

Was she, though? His?

As if she could read his mind, she seemed to know the direction his thoughts had taken. "We are still married," she said. "Legally, that is. I checked."

"Clara…how is this possible?" His voice was barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would disrupt what he was still half convinced was a dream.

"Jack," she said. "And Jenny. I know she thought she'd killed me, and if Jack hadn't been there, she might have done. She did what she could to make sure I'd survive, and Jack did the rest." He saw regret flash in her eyes. "I'm just sorry I never got to thank her for her efforts. She never got to know she succeeded."

Matt felt himself choke up at the mention of Jenny. He looked down at his hands. "I suppose you've heard about her, then."

He saw Clara reach out with one hand, only to let that hand fall flat onto the table. "Matt, I'm so sorry. For all of it—but especially for her." She began to blink back tears. "I wish I could have returned the favor and saved her the way she did me."

"Why not tell me though?" He couldn't help but let his tone become laced with accusation. "I mourned you, Clara. I never really stopped from the moment you…" He let out a huff. "And why come back now? I had only just—" he cut himself off again.

Only just started to put his life back together. That's what he'd wanted to say. He'd only just begun to have the pain caused by the loss of her begin to ease. Had only just begun to consider the possibilities of a future without her with the flicker of a positive mindset. Had only just begun to let the rituals he'd clung to for so long in an effort to keep her memory alive fall away. Why now?

She swallowed. "It wasn't my idea to hide from you. Jack was the one who took me into Torchwood's protective custody, and they wouldn't allow him to tell you anything. He wanted too. Badly. We both did, but no argument we posed changed their minds." He saw anger flash across her features then. "If I'd had my way, you would have been brought into custody with me the moment I found out that I was pregnant with May."

"May, is she…?"

Clara nodded. "Ellie May. She's ours. Even likes to go by her middle name just like someone else I know." She let out a low chuckle. "She's a lot like you, actually. It's a bit uncanny."

Matt felt all the air leave his lungs as his brain processed that confirmation as best as it could manage in the moment. "She has my eyes."

Clara chuckled again. "And your weird food habits. I almost regret introducing her to fish fingers and custard."

He couldn't help the smile that began to tug on his lips at the thought of May sharing some of his traits. He knew he wasn't capable of processing all the feelings he now felt surrounding her existence, or the fact that his chance to know her before now had been stolen from him, but he did register a new type of warmth gathering in his heart.

"Does she know about me?"

Clara nodded. "I told her stories about you every chance I got. She's been trying to convince me to help her find you for years."

That new warmth was again replaced by hurt. "Why didn't you? The Silence have been decimated for years now. You could have searched for me safely."

Clara let out a slow breath. "It was complicated, Matt. There's still so much you don't know."

"So, tell me," he implored.

She glanced up when they both heard scuffling near the kitchen door, and Matt caught sight of both Melody and May trying to hide just outside to listen in to their conversation.

Clara turned back towards him with a roll of her eyes. "Thick as thieves those two. Suppose I shouldn't be surprised, given who their parents are."

Matt chuckled, and then sobered. "Should we continue this conversation somewhere less crowded?"

Clara nodded. "How about dinner at mine? I can send May over to the Pond's for the evening, or she can join us. Up to you."

"It's a date," he agreed, before blushing and waving his hands around again. "Oh, ah, not a—oh, Clara, I—"

She threw her head back then and effectively dissipated any remaining tension between them with one of her musical peals of laughter. Matt felt something within him begin to knit back together at the sound. Something that he couldn't yet name but sent a pleasant tingling feeling into his limbs.

"I'm glad some things never change," she finally said in between giggles, and stood. She tilted her head back towards the door. "C'mon, Chin Boy, let's go introduce you to your daughter."

May had been everything Matt would have hoped she'd be—if he had ever allowed himself to fantasize how a child of his and Clara's might turn out. She was witty and intelligent—that much was clear within the first few minutes of conversation with her and the rest of his family. She easily kept up with their jokes and quick changes in subject. She was also clearly kind; he could see that easily in the tender smiles she gave to her grandmother and to her mother.

To his utter relief, she also seemingly had been surrounded her whole life by people who loved her. He had spent the evening listening to stories from Amy and Rory, Rose and David, and Clara and Melody about May's life.

He also easily caught the curious and nervous glances she kept shooting his way. Clearly, she was just as interested in having a one-on-one conversation with him as he was with her.

It was late in the night, when things were winding down, that they finally got that chance.

"Here," she said as she snatched up a dish towel. "I'll dry."

He nodded as he began washing the plates they had all used for dessert—Rose's most famous Bananas Foster. He felt his heartbeat quicken as she came to stand near him. She was a bit tall for her age—clearly something she'd picked up from him.

"So…" he said slowly. "Where are you and your mother living?"

"Not terribly far from here," May said. "Mum doesn't like living in cities anymore. She hasn't since she had me, apparently. Plus, it was easier for her to raise me closer to Gran and Granddad in case she needed to go on…go to work."

Matt felt an odd sensation once again at the thought of Rose and David as grandparents but nodded. "That makes sense I suppose."

"Are you and mum going to be seeing more of each other?"

He was quiet for a long moment. "We're…we're going to have dinner. We'll have to see where it goes from there." He glanced over at her with a serious look. "But May, no matter what happens between your mum and I, I want you to know that—so long as you want me—I want to be a part of your life." He had sorted out his feelings enough to know those words were true. Given his own childhood, Matt knew he didn't have it in him to abandon any child of his own. His own anxieties about fatherhood be damned.

May bit down on her lower lip. "I do, you know. Mum has shown me pictures and told me stories, but there's only so far that pictures and stories can go."

He gave her a smile then and reached out to offer his hand. He felt a rush of affection when she tentatively took it. "Well, let's take this one day at a time, eh? I'll have dinner with your mum, and then I'll see if she'll let me spend some time with you."

May's own bright smile dazzled him as she gave his hand a squeeze. "Don't worry—I'll convince her."

Three Days Later.

Matt was so nervous he could barely breathe. He had yet to move from his place in the driver's seat of his car that was parked out in front of Clara's home. As May had described, it wasn't too far from his Mum and Dad's—maybe two miles at most.

His eyes took in the modest cottage in front of him, with its rose bushes and shade trees. While her home didn't have access to the cliffs, as Rose and David's did, you could still smell the salt from the ocean in the distance. It was peaceful, and so like a home he could imagine Clara loving that he felt a bit envious that he hadn't been able to spend these last years enjoying it with her.

He swallowed that emotion down when he saw her peak from behind the curtain, and mustered all of the courage he could as he got out of his car and began the walk towards her front door. Off to the side of the house, he noticed a motorbike tucked safely underneath a tarp cover. He quirked an eyebrow at the sight but tucked the information away to ask about it later.

She opened it before he could knock. "Hi," she said.

Matt chuckled. "Hello."

"Come in." Clara opened the door wider and waved him inside.

He cautiously stepped into her home and darted a glance around the space as he followed Clara back towards a dining area he could only just see from the foyer. The lounge was cozy—with well-worn couches covered in throw blankets and pillows surrounding a decently sized television. He felt his lips tug with a smile when he saw the bookshelves filled to the brim with books and CD's, more than one of which with a title he recognized. Some things really never did change.

"Would you like any music?" Clara asked as she breezed towards the back end of the dining room where an impressive sound system sat. Without waiting to hear his answer, she picked up a remote and pressed a button.

Matt let out a loud laugh when the first notes of "Ukulele Heroes" came through the speakers. "I would have thought you would never want to listen to this song again."

She shrugged with a coy smile. "Oh, I dunno, it sort of grows on you after the first ten-thousand plays." She turned then and headed toward another door that clearly led into the kitchen. "Dinner is almost done. Do you want anything to drink?"

"Whatever you've got is fine, I'm sure," he said as he glanced around at the pictures hung up on the wall. He felt a lump rise in his throat—they were all pictures of the life she and May had lived together. There were school pictures and Christmases and birthdays littered along the walls and on every other available surface. It especially stung to see the smiling faces of the other members of his family in those snapshots of time. Time he would never get back.

Matt tried not to let the deep guilt he was feeling show as Clara reentered the room with a glass of wine. He took it gratefully and dared a sip. "So, where is May tonight?"

Clara's eyes scrutinized his face for a moment before she turned and waved him over to follow her into the kitchen. He felt a flutter of nerves—maybe he hadn't hidden his guilt so well. "Oh, out getting into trouble with Melody, I'm sure." She chuckled as she stirred a pot of pasta. "I know Amy said something about the two of them meeting up with some friends to see a movie."

"Do you need some help with that?" Matt asked and nodded towards the cabinets. "I can pull out the plates at least."

"Sure, take this." Clara handed him her stirring spoon, and as he took it—for just the smallest of moments—their fingers brushed.

They both froze at the contact and looked up at each other with wide eyes.

"Ah," he said, but quickly turned to the task at hand. "It smells wonderful."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her let out a slow breath of relief. She moved to get the plates. "Yes, well, it's your mum's recipe."

They were quiet for a long time as they focused on the task of turning off the stove and serving the food onto plates. Matt kept darting glances at her as they worked, and he could swear he caught her stealing a glance or two of her own. He wanted to say something—anything—any one of the many, many things he had been practicing for the last eighteen years would do, but none of them seemed to come to mind. He felt almost exactly as he had when he first began falling for her all those years ago—nervous and off-balance. Worried about spooking her with the wrong look or a misspoken phrase.

It wasn't until they were settled at the dinner table—her at the head chair and him just off to the side, almost as though he was sitting right next to her—that she spoke.

Clara kept her eyes fixed on her pasta as she pulled in a breath. "You must have a million questions, but I want to say something first." Slowly, she put down her fork and turned her impossibly dark brown eyes on him. "I'm so sorry, Matthew. If I could have found a way to let you know that I was alive, I would have. And I don't blame you if now, even with May in the picture, you decide that you don't want anything to do with me."

His brow furrowed as he held her gaze. "I just don't understand, Clara. Not why you didn't tell me you were alive at the start—I think I understand that. It took some thinking, but I assume now that the Silence would have killed one of us or our family if they discovered you were alive. I understand why you left us behind, but…" He swallowed as hurt once again bubbled up into his throat. "I don't understand why you waited until now to find me. Why not when the all-clear was sounded by Torchwood? Why not when they took me into custody to begin with? You clearly spent time with Rose and David when we were all in hiding, why not seek me out too?"

Clara bit her lip. "When you all were taken into custody I…I wanted to come and find you, but I was afraid. I was afraid of how you might react. I thought you would be angry or that you might reject us—May and I." She shook her head. "It was silly, I know. But May was still so young, and I didn't want to put her through any of that. I had to protect her, Matt. Even from you."

Matt recoiled back from her. "How could you have thought, even for a moment, that I would send you away? Either of you? Jack must have told you—I was a mess when they took me into protective custody, Clara. It was all I could do just to function through the day without you, and you thought—" he broke himself off, and looked down into his lap. "What did I do to make you believe I would ever—ever—send you away?"

He looked up when she didn't answer and found her with tears in her eyes. "Nothing intentional," she said, and wiped away a tear that escaped. "I just—I'd heard that you'd been in a brief relationship with River Song…I assumed you were trying to move on. I thought it would be cruel of me to disrupt that process. And then, later, I considered finding you. May had gotten a bit older, and she was asking so many questions…but Jack told me that you were with Tasha, and I just…" She looked away, and he saw her hard swallow.

Another wave of guilt moved through Matt, and he reached out to take her hand. She stiffened but let him wrap his hand around hers tightly. "There's never been anyone for me but you, Clara. Not really. I did try." He felt stinging at his eyes when his own tears threatened to come forward, but he forced them back down by biting the inside of his cheek. "I really did, but…I was never the same after I lost you."

She turned her eyes back toward him then, and the tears were flowing more freely now. "Can you forgive me?" she asked, almost too quietly for him to hear her.

He stared at her—at the raw look of sadness and grief and anxiety in her face. He could see that she was barely breathing as she waited for his answer. If there had been any anger left within him, it would have dissipated immediately with that look. He had never been able to resist it before, he certainly couldn't now. But…

"Let's take it a day at a time," he said softly, and gave her hand a squeeze.

Ever so softly in the background, the song on the stereo changed and the opening notes of "Skinny Love" started to play.