Clara (Part 11)

All things considered, it was a remarkably long time before Clara was significantly injured again.  She had bumps and bruises over the weeks and months, and once a seriously sprained wrist that put her out of commission for several weeks, but it was close to another year before an injury landed her in the hospital for more than a day.  This time it was a nasty knife wound to her left shoulder.  It was mildly terrifying, considering it wasn't too far off from her heart, but yet it wasn't so close that it was going to stop her from continuing to do what she did.

At least she told herself it wasn't going to stop her.  And it wasn't the knife wound that gave her pause.  It was one of the gifts she received while recovering in the hospital.

Given that she didn't have any close friends and had insisted on not contacting her family this time, it was somewhat remarkable she got any gifts at all.  Work (her day job) sent her a small bouquet of flowers the second day in, but then on the third day, another bouquet arrived.  This one was anonymous, but it came with a note that simply said, "Secrets are meant to be revealed."

When she read that, panic welled up in her heart.  All she could think to do in response was call the only other person whom she knew was aware of her secret.

"Clara?" Chris answered.  "How have you been?"  He sounded nervous but like, surprised nervous, not like he had been found out nervous.

"I might be in trouble," Clara admitted.

"Where are you?  Can I help?"

Even after all these months, he still cared, Clara realized.  "I'm in the hospital," she said, and before he could say anything about that she quickly added, "I'm fine, physically, but I think someone found out my secret."

Chris was silent for a moment.  Clara felt her heart thumping.  Then she heard the sound of a door closing and the quality of the sound changed, like Chris was in a closet or something, as she heard him speak in hushed tones to say, "I didn't tell anyone, Clara, I swear."

"I know," Clara admitted.  "But someone knows.  They sent me flowers with a note that says, 'Secrets are meant to be revealed.'"

Chris was silent for another moment before he said softly, "That isn't necessarily a threat..."

"Isn't it though?" Clara questioned.

He sighed.  "Yeah, it probably is, I was just hoping..."  He sighed again.  Then he asked, "How can I help?  If you knew it wasn't me who told, surely you must have something else in mind that I can do."

Clara paused at that.  She really didn't have anything in mind.  It was just that he was the only one she could talk to about any of this.  "I don't know," she admitted.  "I just... I'm not sure what to do."

"What hospital are you at?" Chris asked.  "I'll come over."  And then after a beat.  "That is if it's okay with you."

Clara smiled despite herself.  "Yeah, I'd like that," she admitted.


When Chris arrived, the first thing he asked was to see the flowers.  Clara didn't expect much to come of his inspection, but much to her surprise, his face lit up when he saw the note.  "I recognize this handwriting," he said of the note.  "I'm sure I've seen it before."

"I assumed it was just written by the flower shop," Clara noted.  "Surely whoever found me out wouldn't be so sloppy as to write the note themselves."

Chris shrugged.  "I don't know," he said.  "But I don't really make a habit of sending or receiving flowers, yet this handwriting is really familiar."

"Like its someone you work with?"

"Well..."  Chris seemed to be searching for words as he blushed a little bit and then he said, "Well, no one I work with anymore, but probably someone I used to work with."  When he glanced over at Clara, who was giving him a quizzical look, he said, "I got a new job.  One with a real paper."

Clara, despite not caring, couldn't contain her excitement.  "That's great, Chris!" she said.  "Congratulations!"  And then she winced a little at the pain that flared up in her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Chris asked, leaning forward in his chair as he set the flower note back on the nightstand.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Clara said.  "I'll be out of here soon, but I just I don't know what to do about..." And she gestured towards the note.

Chris shook his head.  "I can try to contact my old boss, see if he'll tell me what's going on."

"Not if it's going to out you, though," Clara stated.  It was definitely a command more than a question, but still, Chris shrugged.

"Frankly, I don't really care," he said.  "About anyone thinking I'm a ninja, I mean.  I haven't done anything in almost a year, so they can't pin much on me.  You on the other hand..."

"They can't really prove anything about me either," Clara noted.  "I mean, any evidence has to be circumstantial."  She paused and then questioned, "Right?"

Chris shrugged again.  "I don't know, Clara," he admitted.  "I haven't exactly been following you around.  I don't know what someone might have found out."

"But even you didn't have real hard and fast evidence until I admitted things to you," Clara noted.  "And you're a pretty decent reporter."

"Good enough to graduate from the tabloids, I suppose," Chris admitted, still a little red.  He sighed and then stood up. "I'll see what I can do to find out who sent the note.  In the meantime, take care of yourself."

Clara nodded.  "I will," she promised.  "Text me if you learn anything."

Chris nodded.  "I will."  He paused as if he wanted to say more, but then he just walked away.  Just before leaving the room he turned back and simply said, "Good-bye, Clara."

"Good night," she replied.  And then he was gone.