Author's Note: So this is the beginning of a multi-chapter fic that I came up with last night while watching The Snowmen for the second time. This is sort of my way of dealing with that episode.

Hope you enjoy it. And remember, there is more to come.

*Additional Note*(6/14/13)- I just want to stress that this entire fic was written prior to the broadcast Series 7 part 2. When I wrote it, I tried to weave my Clara speculation and canon elements in whenever possible. This fic assumes that the post-The Snowmen Doctor was NOT post-Towers , after TNOTD, it is clear that he would have been. So, essentially this fic has become slightly AU...but trust me, if you ship 11/River it's still worth a read.

Resting his hand against the flat surface of the TARDIS scanner, the Doctor fingered the image of Clara Oswin Oswald, the girl who had been clever enough to get a weary old man back on his feet.

"You watch me run, Clara Oswald…" he repeated, this time as a vow, a promise to her that he would go across the universe and back again just to find this mysterious, amazing, twice-dead woman.

But the more the Doctor pondered it, the harder he found it to go from there. Where did he start?

He'd been at this for a good few hours or possibly even days; he couldn't really tell the difference, not when he'd been thrust from the very stationary state of isolation straight to his typical flying-about-the-universe routine.

"Where do I look Old Girl?" his voice possessed a hint of uncertainty.

For all it was worth, the Doctor's hearts were practically bursting, thumping far more quickly than the rest of his body could keep up with.

"Come on, Sexy, show me your files on Clara Oswin Oswald." The screen immediately shifted from the picture of Clara to a rather lacking description.

"Right, so, let's see, 'Clara Oswin Oswald. Born 23rd November 1866. Died 24th December 1892. No further information available.' Really? Is that all you've got? Because I already knew that!" Running his hands through his hair, the man in the bow tie became frustrated.

The process was bound to be tedious, he knew. But strangely enough this young barmaid-turned-governess had intrigued him, calling forth a liveliness that he hadn't thought he'd ever regain.

Out of all the endless possibilities, Clara had encountered the Doctor twice and perished both times. Based on previous experience, there was absolutely no way those meetings could have been coincidental. In essence, the truth was undeniable: something was drawing them together.

"But what? And why? Who is she?" these questions reverberated through his mind, and it wasn't until after a momentary pause that the Doctor realized he'd spoken aloud.

He released a tired sigh, his mind scouring over ideas on what to do next.

"No, I am NOT sulking! Just a bit irritated. The one time I finally find a companion she just has to go off and die, not just once, but twice. TWICE. Honestly, I don't know what she'd playing at…" Fingering the TARDIS controls, the man in the bowtie huffed.

A sudden jolt caused him to lurch backwards and yelp in confusion.

"Wh-what…what was that for?" the Doctor retorted to his unruly ship.

In a matter of seconds, the TARDIS hummed backed in response, regaining its former status.

Without thinking, the Doctor found himself steadying the smaller-on-the-outside box, pressing various buttons and such until his fingers slipped, falling onto a very out of place object.

A book.

One glimpse sent his hearts racing, a sort of melancholy pain seeping into them.

He withdrew Amelia's precious reading glasses from his pocket, trying to dismiss any further doubts that he was hallucinating.

Bringing the novel closer to his eyes, the Doctor reexamined the title.

'Melody Malone.'

A stab of guilt rushed through his body as he forced himself to take in the illustration of his wife.

"Stop it! Stop it, Old Girl. I thought I…I thought I put this book…back…in….in…Amy and Rory's room…" he stumbled on that last bit, covering his face as he placed the book back on the console. "Wh-why are you doing this to me?" his voice quivered as he spoke, the familiar vulnerability returning once more.

The image of River Song with her dark fedora, nearly tangible curls, and that yowzah dress caught his eye again, causing his pulse to escalate.

"No, no I am not thinking about…I'm not going to…I mean…" the Doctor stuttered, his arms flailing in the air.

'Go to her my Thief. Go to my Child. She can help you.' The TARDIS spoke softly, gnawing at the very core of the man's soul.

His face flushed at this and he saw the truth in those quietly spoken words.

River Song was a professor of archaeology and she dabbled as a detective, with 51st century technology at her expense. If anyone was well-suited for the task of helping him find Clara Oswald, it was his wife.

And the more he thought about it, the more he realized how much he needed to see her. For various reasons, some of which he loathed coming to terms with.

"Oh, you're right, Old Girl. B-but what if she…what if she doesn't…I mean…"his babbling continued, circulating through the dark interior of his ship.

'Go to her.' The phrase repeated in his mind, urging him to do what needed to be done.

The Doctor's eyes returned to the TARDIS scanner, and he watched as Clara's picture reappeared, stimulating the exhilaration that had only recently come back into his life.

"Fine. You know I never could resist a good mystery…or a chance to see the Missus for that matter. Alright Old Girl. If you insist…"

Clasping her books to her chest, the curly haired professor traversed across the long, elaborate corridors of the building.

After an incredibly lengthy week, River Song was relieved to have a break.

Her body ached all over, her eyes pealing over in exhaustion - a living testament of her fatigue.

Ever since she'd returned to the Luna University following the events of Manhattan, her life had literally become her work. She worked and labored and toiled and taught until she could drown out the heart-wrenching pain of losing her parents, the constant fear of her husband's state of mind, the inevitability of the coming day that she dreaded more than anything.

It was her way of coping apparently. Instead of moving into isolation she overworked herself to the point that she could scarcely function, to the point that the prospect of sleep was the only thing that appealed to her. In the past few months alone, she'd added teaching night classes to her already overwhelming course load.

Now, at the end of this torturous period of final exams and such, River Song wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed at that very moment, to ignore the constant nagging that she felt on her husband's behalf.

Just a little further. The flat's just round the corner. She reminded herself, trying to regain the motivation necessary to do what needed to be done.

Recognizing the TARDIS blue entrance to her apartment, River quickly shifted her books to one hand, using the other to prop open the door.

"Ah, home at last." She sighed, turning her head slightly upon entering the dark room.

Although her brain was practically short-circuited for the most part, it didn't take much for her to get the sense that she wasn't the only person in the general vicinity.

A chilling fear swept her body, her acute senses coming to light.

If her days with the Silence had done anything for her, they had helped her develop a keen wit.

"Hello…is…is…anyone…there…"

Cautiously, River maneuvered through the darkness, flicking on the light switch ever so slowly.

The sight before her was quite daunting to say the least. Whatever aspirations she had to sleep were dashed instantly.

Startled, she couldn't help but step back, her books falling to the floor below.

"D-Doctor?" her voice sounded surprisingly weak as she drank in the vision of her husband who had perched himself on the nearby seat, his legs crossed and resting on the surface of the desk.

This was obviously an older Doctor; she could see it in those ancient, yet lively eyes, that love-filled expression, the subtle lines lining his forehead, the way he carried himself.

"Long time no see, Honey." He declared smugly, managing that goofy smile she absolutely adored.

"Hello Sweetie. You look…well. Surprisingly. Though I have to say, the hat doesn't really suit you." River quipped, her heart racing at the way her husband stared straight at her.

At that, he arose from his chair, fingering the flaps of his Sherlock Holmes hat with fondness.

"Oi! Don't insult my hat within the first minute of the conversation, wife!"

River rolled her eyes.

"Okay, down to business. You've done Manhattan, I presume?" she questioned, already knowing the answer.

A flicker of pain flashed in the Doctor's eyes and River almost regretted her bluntness. Almost.

"Yes." His voice was low and gruff and he looked anywhere but her face.

"How long has it been for you?"

"Months? Years? How am I supposed to know? You?" her husband counteracted, now standing within a foot of her.

"About ten months." Despite wanting to handle the situation nonchalantly, she couldn't seem to hide the tremor in her voice.

"River…" his tone grew high-pitched, sympathetic.

"Anyway so I see you're not sulking anymore. Life in isolation on a cloud in Victorian London get too boring for you?" Drawing upon her own internal worries, River watched her husband become very uneasy.

"For your information…I….wait…how'd you know about that…" he raised an eyebrow.

"Madame Vastra was kind enough to keep me informed. And I popped in on you once. Don't you remember?"

"Bad day. It's all a bit of a blur." The Last of the Time Lords shrugged, trying to avoid her gaze.

"But you're feeling better now I take it? Out of retirement?" Her fingers straightened his bow tie, causing a rosy blush to form in his neck.

"Y-y-yes." He stuttered, hands suddenly flailing about. Scratching his cheek nervously, the Doctor began to explain.

"I…um…met this girl…this clever, brilliant amazing girl…Clara…" River watched in awe as his entire face started to glow.

This wasn't much of a surprise.

"I take it she's something special then, judging by the way you're blushing." There was a hint of sadness in her voice, though it was scarcely detectable.

"No, River, it's not like that…that's not why…I'm…you…" he stared awkwardly at her, his fingers absentmindedly stroking his hair.

"Go on."

"Well, there…um…I…well….I asked her to come away with me…"Stopping, the Doctor waited hesitantly for her response.

For a mere moment, silence resonated between them.

"Honey, that's… wonderful! Glad to see you're finally coming to your senses." A smile crept across her face, and in one respect she was genuinely happy for her husband. When he didn't seem so excited, River began to grow concerned. "Sweetie, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Well…I…ah…um…she…well…she…kissed…me…and I may have…blushed…" His breath puffed out in short bursts. "And also…I may have said that I was her…erm…gentleman friend…and some other things may have transpired…" Snapping his eyes shut, the Doctor fully expected his wife to slap him.

It seemed to take her a second to process his words.

"I see…well, it's not as if it hasn't happened before. I mean my mother tried to seduce you…" a hearty laugh escaped her throat, but deep down a shot of pain swept through her gut.

Stop it! You're being irrational. It happens. And after all those times you used your hallucinogenic lipstick…you have no right to feel this way.

She hadn't even realized the implications of her words until a flicker of hurt transpired in her husband's eyes.

"Sorry, Doctor…I didn't mean…"

"No, really, that's okay; I should be the one apologizing…" his blue-green irises gazed directly into hers, his hand brushing against hers, making a warm sensation spread in her body.

"Oh, it happens…I understand…"

"River…I…" he stroked her palm, speaking in a tender whisper. She could feel the color seeping into her cheeks, so she hastily turned her face away.

"So when do I get to meet her?" Professor Song changed the subject in a flash.

"Well…um…that's kind of why I'm here…you see…she's…erm…sort of…dead. And as it turns out, I well…I met her once before when y-your p-parents and I went to the Dalek Asylum. She got turned into a Dalek and she also died there. But somehow she ended up in the Victorian era and now that she'd died twice…I'm…trying…to…erm…find her again."

"That's why you came to me." River surmised.

"Erm…yes? Well, I thought your archaeological and detective skills might be…um…useful. So, will you help me find the whereabouts of Clara Oswin Oswald, Professor Song?"

"I'd be happy to, my love."

Despite her own worries and fatigue, River Song found herself giving in quite easily.

After all, she'd never been able to resist that adorable baby face of his.

Note: Hope you enjoyed it so far. Please take this time to leave a review:)

Have a wonderful day!