'Thanks,' Clara said to the nurse as he adjusted the sling that held her left arm steady. She rose from the edge of the bed, feeling much better now she had rested for a couple of hours.

The sky was dark now, and she had seen the time had just gone midnight when she had messaged Peter a few moments earlier. 

She walked from the room and began towards the front entrance of the building. She had said goodbye, again, to Simmons earlier when she was listing the many, many things Clara had to avoid doing in order for her shoulder to heal faster. All the while, Simmons expressed her apparent need to take more blood samples from Clara. 

She had mentioned something about the Aether, and how S.H.I.E.L.D. 'just want to be sure everything's A-Okay!' Clara didn't really know what she was talking about; she was too busy thinking about Sharon, and what she might be planning.

It was obvious she had made some kind of name for herself in Madripoor, and that she maybe even has some sort of power considering how she has access to satellites, high-tech devices, and apparently has a driver at her beck and call.

'Clara!' She jumped as she left through the front doors, Peter running towards her already dressed in his usual clothes. 'You should have seen what happened tonight!'

'It was busy then?' Clara asked, smiling at his excitement - which was no less than it was every night he told her about his adventures through New York. 

'Yeah!' He nodded, speaking quickly as he relayed the story in a rush to reach the part where he saves the day. 'There were these guys trying to get into one of those armoured cash transport van things and they were putting these, actually I don't know what they were, but they were putting these things on the doors to get in there to get all of the, well, the cash and- Oh, my God your arm's broken!' 

'It's nothing,' she waved him off. 'I was only shot.'

'Only-?'

'Plus, I'm loaded with pain meds, so...' She pursed her lips, Peter noticing how heavily she was blinking. He placed a hand on her back, easing her down the road so he could get her to bed. She yawned as he did, leaning into him. 'If you were abandoned for eight years after risking and losing your career and tarnishing the family name, what would you do?'

'Maybe we should wait until the morning to talk about that,' he told her, having no clue what had brought about that hypothetical. 'Are you okay?' He asked, glancing nervously at Clara's partially covered bandages as she tried to tug her jacket further over her shoulder, feeling a slight chill through the t-shirt she wore. 

Peter reached over to pluck up the material, more gently than needed, and shifted the jacket so Clara could hold it together with her useable hand. 'You could probably shoot me in the other shoulder and I wouldn't feel it.'

'Oh, okay then,' he said. 'I'm pretty sure I won't be doing that... ever.'

'Well, you never know,' she one-shoulder shrugged. 

'No, I- I think I know,' Peter chuckled lightly, guiding Clara round a corner as they headed back to his apartment. He stopped when he heard something drop to the floor, a faint rattling sounding as whatever it was rolled a few paces away. 'What's that?' He asked, moving from Clara to pick it up. 

'The nurse said I wasn't allowed to forget to give it to whoever was picking me up,' Clara informed him, yawning once more. 'All the instructions are on there somewhere. He said it was absolutely impertinent I gave it to you to make sure I don't lose it.'

'You mean imperative?' Peter raised an eyebrow. 

'That's what I said.'

'Right,' he nodded. 'So, why was it that you didn't give it to me to look after?' 

'I forgot.'

'Uh huh, okay.' He slid the small pill bottle into his pocket, moving back to Clara as she leant against the closest wall. 'We should probably get you into bed,' he urged, snaking an arm around her waist and easing her along again. 

After what should have been a moderately short walk, made longer by Clara's sleepy pace, they arrived back at the apartment. Peter unlocked the door, walking in to see Aunt May had fallen asleep on the couch. She awoke at the sound of them entering, happy to see them alive and, for the most part, well. 

She fussed over them both for a while, but ushered them to bed when she saw Clara wasn't far from falling asleep where she stood. 'Night, Aunt May,' Clara smiled, most of her weight on Peter, who didn't look as though he had much energy left himself. 

Peter closed the door behind them, taking his eyes off of Clara for only a second. He turned back just in time to catch her by her good arm before she fell onto the bed, about to land on her injured shoulder. 'What now?' She groaned, just wanting to snuggle up in the duvet and get a few days worth of sleep. 

'Well, first you need to take off your boots,' Peter reminded her, sitting her down on the edge of the bed whilst kneeling in front to untie the laces for her, a small smile tugging at his lips. Once he was finished tugging the shoes from her feet, he lifted her jacket from her shoulders. 'Are you supposed to sleep with the sling on?' He frowned. 

'I don't know,' she shrugged, before gasping with a relocation. 'There's instructions for that, too!'

Peter took in a deep breath, digging through Clara's jacket pockets for the note that had hopefully stayed in there somewhere. When he found the slightly crumpled paper, he sat beside Clara, reading over as much information as his brain would allow him to. 

Clara shuffled beside him, continuing the job he had started as he put his concentration somewhere other than on her. He blanched as he finally looked away from the sheet, seeing Clara had somehow managed to take off her tight-fitting trousers and was now just in her t-shirt and underwear. 

'What?' She asked upon seeing his expression, a frown knotting her brow. 

'N-Nothing,' he stammered, avoiding looking towards her. 'Here,' he added, blindly passing her a clean pair of pyjama bottoms. 

'Too hot,' she told him, shuffling back on the bed so she could finally get under the covers and get some sleep. 

'Are you sure?' He pressed, his voice a slightly higher pitch than usual. Clara didn't respond, too focused on trying to figure out how she could move the fabric she was currently sitting on to get under it. Peter cocked his head to the side, observing the struggle she was creating for herself, and wondering just how she had managed to get herself to this never-before-seen level of exhaustion. 'This is weird.' 

'Just help me,' she whined, giving up to fall back. Once again, Peter quickly reached out to stop her landing heavy on the shoulder, and slid her off the duvet she was trying to make budge. 

'There,' he finally said, now gently letting Clara lean back onto the mattress as he laid the bedding over her. She tried to roll over onto her side as Peter got in beside her, but found herself eased back once again so she was looking up at the ceiling. 'You have to stay on your back.'

'But I can't fall asleep on my back,' she complained as he tucked a pillow under her elbow. 

'Just try,' he persuaded her. She didn't argue back, Peter knowing the medication was to thank for that. 

'You didn't finish your story,' Clara realised, having been lying in silence for a whole second. A second too long, in her opinion. She turned her head to face him, seeing he was already looking across at her. 'The one about the cash, and the vans, and the bad guys. Did you win?'

'Yeah, I did,' he smiled gently, seeing her heavy eyes fighting to stay open for a moment longer, just until she got the answer. 'I'll tell you my story in the morning, as long as you promise to tell me yours.'

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