I am soooooo sorry you guys! I didn't realize how much time had passed since my last update, but a very motivational message from user jacks marie gave me a little nudge of inspiration. I will be working on completing this story! So, if you're reading this, you're awesome ;) So, here it is! Chapter 7!

Clara walked into the hallway, determined to make some use of herself. She heard a

faint sobbing down the way a bit, and followed it. She'd walked very far when she finally came

upon a wooden door, the sound of her bitter tears clear. Clara reached for the doorknob and

turned it slowly, pushing the door open.

River was curled in on herself, eyes clenched shut. Every few seconds, a cry escaped her

lips. Her curly blonde hair had come out of its ponytail, and her fingers were clasped around a

Mahogany picture frame that was facing towards her. The tears fell unrestrained onto the

purple velvet carpeting the floor. She had not yet realized that Clara had entered.

"Professor Song…" Clara spoke softly, not wanting to startle her. She looked up slowly,

and her eyes were red and puffy, much like Clara's own. Upon seeing her, River stood and

wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, clearing her throat. She let the picture she was

holding find its place on the little desk in the room, face down.

"We can't let him die. I will not just sit by and do nothing." River said assertively.

"You're right. There has to be a way."

"There's not; but we're going to make one." Clara nodded. She would do whatever it

took to save the Doctor. "We should go back and be with him for now."

They left the room and headed back to the library, where the Doctor lay on the red

velvet sofa. He was still, too still, and it startled River. She rushed to him and was relieved to

see his chest rise and fall, even if it was slower and more shallow than she would have liked.

Teardrops were drying on his face, and River felt guilt in the pit of her stomach, knowing that

she was the reason they were there. Had he not done more than enough for her? And look how

she'd repaid him, running out on him when he needed her most. It didn't matter how she felt, it

was him who was dying. Still, it felt like she was dying with him.

She let herself be divulged in her thoughts, and she realized that if he did… well, if he

died, she could never go on. How on earth could someone live in a world without him? She

couldn't do it, not now, not ever. She got on her knees and leaned close to his face, her own

tear falling onto his cheek. "My love…" She knew Clara was standing in the room with them, but

far enough away to give them space.

River tenderly gripped his head in her hands, lifting it ever so slightly to put his forehead

against hers. "I love you. I love you so much. You can't leave me, you hear? You just can't, I

won't let you." She pursed her lips. "I love you, I love you, I love you…" She whispered, getting

quieter each time, finally drawing in a shaky breath. "I do, I really do. I do. With all of my heart.

But you know that, don't you? Doesn't matter, I'm supposed to say it. That's what makes it all

the more real." Another tear streamed down her cheek as she shifted to sit on the edge of the

sofa, now only cupping his feverish cheek in her hand, their foreheads still touching. "Don't go

away, my love. Don't go away. I won't let you." Her hand gripped his hair gently, the action

both physical and symbolic. She wouldn't let him go, wouldn't let him leave her.

She lightly pressed her lips against his forehead before straightening up and looking

over to Clara. The younger woman spoke. "Who are you to him?"

"I'm his wife." Clara tried to hide her surprise.

"Oh… How did you meet?" She said, not sure of what else to say.

"I tried to kill him… At least, that's when I met him. He'd known me before that. Our

wedding was kind of last-minute, the world was ending, we were on the top of a pyramid and

he was going to die, and all I knew was that I loved him. And when I looked at him, I knew that

he loved me too. And that was all it took, we just… got married. And then I killed him."

"What?!" River chuckled sadly.

"No, no. He faked his death so that he wouldn't have to die. Then, he came back to me.

It's supposed to be that way, he's always supposed to bounce back." The room fell awkwardly

silent. "He can't die. He just can't. He'll pull through, just like he always does."

"He will." Clara agreed. "What can we do to help?"

"We need help. There's only one person I know of who could help, that is, if he chooses

to."

"Who?"

"He calls himself the Master."