Clara's in a world of hurt. Between the loss of her eye, being strangled, the kick to the chest, and all the various other injuries she's collected over the course of the day, it's no wonder that everything above her waist is a giant mass of pain. And now that the adrenaline's starting to recede, she knows she probably doesn't have long until it gets unbearable.

Which doesn't stop that small panicked feeling from rising up in her chest when she sees the burns on Alex's face. Compared to the way he looked after the bombing, they're downright mild, but it still hurts to see him like this, even if he won't acknowledge that he's hurting. She considers looking for a cloth to try to at least clean him up with the slightest bit until he starts talking.

"I was trying to help you," Clara says hoarsely. "I'm not sure if you've forgotten it, but that's what people do for their loved ones." And once she notices that he's reaching for the knife, she steps back, clutching to it. "Could you please take me to Dr. Norton? I need to see him."