"Clara?"
Clara turned around, the tears streaming down her cheeks. The Doctor, his fringe flopping into his eyes, held one arm out stretched towards Clara who was still, as if frozen on the spot. She had just witnessed her death - her own death - and there was no way she could have not seen it.
"Clara, it's okay, we'll be oka-"
"No it won't, Doctor!" Clara meant to say in a whisper, but instead came bursting out of her in a yell. She raised her hands to her head, clasping her head in her hands as she sank to the floor. A violent sob pooled out of her, as she rocked back and forth, as if crazy with grief - for herself.
A pair of arms circled around her, and held on tight as tear after tear streamed down her face. After her screaming had died down to a bitter silence, the Doctor pulled back, brushing a strand of Clara's hair off her face and tucking it behind her ear.
"I know it's hard to understand what you just saw," the Doctor whispered, as Clara looked up from where she was focusing on the floor, "but I'm going to change it - I'm going to rewrite your death, Clara, because no-one deserves that. No-one."
"But you can't rewrite time - you told me that," Clara retorted, meeting the Doctor's sharp yet kind eyes, "it's not possible."
"Neither are you - but you're my impossible girl," the Doctor said the last part in a whisper, as if he didn't want anyone to know his and Clara's secret. At the mention of his nickname of her, Clara seemed to relax, sinking into his arms, aching for his embrace.
But the Doctor held her back, studying her face for a moment. Flushed with emotion, Clara took a deep breath in and out, trying to steady her nerves.
Holding her face in his hands, the Doctor leaned in, and pressed his lips against hers.
At first, Clara didn't know what to do. Here he was, the Doctor, literally her best friend, kissing her as tenderly as a boyfriend would do to a girlfriend...a husband to a wife.
Husband to a wife.
The Doctor.
River.
"Doctor!" Clara suddenly jolted out of his embrace, shocked by her memory. The Doctor, his face stricken with fear, softened into confusion as Clara jumped up and started pacing quickly.
"What is it?"
"Have you just forgotten her?" Clara snapped, making the Doctor jump.
"Who?"
"River! Your wife!"
The Doctor leaned back, suddenly going pale. A laugh escaped Clara's lips at the Doctor's vulnerability. The Doctor, jumping up with strange enthusiasm, walked over to Clara.
"She's not really my wife," he muttered, so quiet that Clara could hardly him, "yes, by law, but not the law of my heart - well, my two hearts."
"She loves you, Doctor!" Clara shouted, trying to pull her hands away as the Doctor reached for them, "and you love her - remember?"
"But I love you, Clara - why do you think I looked for you all that time? When you died in the Dalek Asylum? When you died in Victorian London? I found you, Clara - and I won't let you go."
Clara froze again, her fight against the Doctor dyeing down. So, when the Doctor leaned in and kissed her again, she didn't fight it off - she met it, with as much passion as the Doctor gave. Though the thought of River ever present in her mind, she ignored it, as she wrapped her arms around the Doctor's neck, and his around her waist.
And they stayed like that, until they finally let go.