Sarah was busy building a series of sandcastles on the beach, it looked more and more like an entire sand town at this point; and Mickey was in the wings, busy thinking of ways to bring about their destruction. Sarah acted annoyed, but didn't scold her little brother too badly because every time she needed more wet sand, Mickey was there, ready to splash into the cold tide to retrieve some. It was a particularly nice day, the sun was shining and the breeze was almost nonexistent. Rose had still made them bring their jumpers, it was by no means the tropics, but it was warm enough to let their toes wriggle in the sand. It was a good compromise for the crowded beaches closer to home, and this beach was special.

Rose loved this beach, though it had taken some time for her to admit it. They came every year now, at least once. They came to remember, and to celebrate. She looked to where John sat, reclined in a chair with his sketchbook spread across his lap. His eyes were on the children then, a stick of charcoal in his hand and a pencil clenched between his teeth. Of all the things she thought that the former defender of the universe might settle down and become, an artist certainly wasn't what she had expected. But it made him happy, and had given him an opportunity to teach, something else he enjoyed.

She spied on his drawing, feigning that she was also watching the children. Most of the page was taken up with a large image of the children, building in the sand together; they were often his favorite subjects to draw. She had many of them framed at home, they were made more real when it was captured through John's eyes, more alive than the photos they had. In the margins, she recognized sketches of herself and found herself smirking. She had to laugh when he caught her sneaking a peek and he smiled back, as well as he could with the pencil still stuck firmly in his mouth. She melted under those grinning brown eyes, still felt her heart flutter when they were directed at her.

The baby kicked once, hard, and then continued to move. She had to lay her book in her lap and pursed her lips into an 'o' while letting out a slow breath. She pressed her hand to her stomach, just starting to show now, a small bump hinting of things to come. John pushed his work to the ground and knelt beside her, a hand stroking through her hair.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded, forcing a smile. "He's getting feisty."

"Ah, kicking again?" His voice was filled with wonder as his hand joined hers against her belly. The smile wasn't forced this time, he was excited like this every time and it was contagious.

"Yeah. Got me in the ribs a bit."

"Atta boy, Alonso. Give 'er hell." He looked up guiltily and then leaned toward her stomach conspiratorially. "And by that, I mean, you treat your mother nice, or she's bound to stick me on the couch all winter." She laughed and shoved at his shoulder.

"Oi, watch it." She grinned. "The couch is better than you deserve, egging him on like that." He kissed her on the cheek in apology, and once, on the lips, to remind her why she'd likely never send him to the couch. "Alonso, honestly." She rolled her eyes, a little flustered. He flashed a quick grin and settled back into his chair to sketch. His hands and arms were a mess of soot, at least he had the forethought to roll up his sleeves today, he'd ruined many shirts that way. And it had been rather expensive to do so, since he had never really mastered 'casual' as a dress style. Even out on the beach for holiday he was wearing a white oxford and a tie, she considered it a huge victory that he was wearing jeans. She thought it was funny that the only time she had seen him in a t-shirt was going to bed or mowing the lawn, and even then, sometimes it had been a polo.

She scanned the horizon lazily, another week of freedom to enjoy, Torchwood was still as busy as ever, despite it having been years since the last sighting of the Doctor, almost a decade now. There was still plenty of activity going on. She supposed that it was probably true then, he was never coming back. But that was alright, if a little bittersweet. She knew now that she had fallen in love with the man, not the time-lord, her time with John enjoying the mediocrity of normal life had proved that.

A speck caught her eye in the glittering water, something dipping below the waves only to appear again. She watched it closer, wanted to call out to the children to point it out, but she saw something that made the words die on her lips. It was an arm, two of them, thrashing up against the surf only to plunge back beneath the water.

"John." She grabbed his shoulder, not daring to take her eyes off the figure in the water.

"What is it?" His journal was forgotten again, the tone of her voice had him alarmed. "The baby?"

She shook her head. "There's someone out there, look." She pointed in the direction of the flailing person, their struggles still evident despite the waves crashing against them. "I think they're drowning." She swallowed. It was only a moment before John saw them too.

"Wait here." His tone was that of the old Doctor as he flew head first into danger. He ran down the beach, sand kicking up behind him and he dove into the surf. She jogged after him, until she reached the water line, the ocean was icy cold and her concern for the stranger now extended to her husband. She was suddenly grateful that John hadn't decided he had wanted to be a police officer, or work with her at Torchwood, she wasn't sure she could take this kind of stress daily. She shook off her dark thoughts of what might happen, it wouldn't do her any good to stand on the beach and brood.

A tug on her arm brought her around as she saw Sarah's face staring up at her.

"Why's daddy in the water? You said it was too cold to swim." Sarah's tone was accusing and if she hadn't been so worried for John, she might have laughed.

"It is." She said firmly, she saw Mickey then, standing by the sandcastle, but his eyes were on the water, watching intently. "Why don't you take Mickey up to the car to fetch the picnic, yeah?" She gave her daughter a quick pleading smile. Sarah looked like she would argue, but lunch must have been on her mind because she nodded and turned to grab Mickey. They both scuttled up the beach to where the car was parked, up closer to the road. She hoped it took them a while, she wasn't sure what was going to happen, but she wasn't in a hurry to have her children witness someone drown. Especially not their father.

She returned her gaze to the water, finding John almost immediately. He was a strong swimmer and had closed the distance between him and the figure quickly, but it didn't seem to be fast enough. The arms didn't move as they once did, hardly breaking the surface of the water at all anymore. Her heart stopped as the arms disappeared beneath the waves and didn't emerge again, she saw John propel himself faster, kicking frantically to reach the spot where they had last been seen. He reached the spot and spun around momentarily, searching for any sign. But it was no good, they had properly sunk and they weren't coming back up for air any time soon, so John threw himself under the surface, searching desperately for some sign of them.

"Come on, come on." She whispered, her voice was agitated and she chewed at her lip nervously. It was a painfully long stretch before she saw John burst back above the surface of the water, dragging something up with him. She felt some of the tension leave her body when he started to return to shore, floating on his back and carefully supporting the victims head so that it stayed out of the waves. It was a slow job and she was pacing back at forth at the water line, the waiting was killing her. When he finally reached the shallows, she ran out into the surf, heedless of her wet clothes she splashed in up to her knees and helped him to carry the body up as the waves washed them onto the beach.

John heaved for air, exhausted from the swim he barely had the strength to crawl up out of the water. He looked almost just as drowned as the man he had saved, his shirt clinging to his shivering form and his hair plastered down across his forehead.

"Cheeky bastard is still wearing my suit." John spoke between chattering teeth, using the last of his strength to help Rose push them both far enough onto the shore that the tide wouldn't wash them away. The man laid on his side, unmoving, a blue suit stuck tightly against his thin frame.

"What're you on about?" She looked at John curiously, but he just shook his head, something in his eyes worried her. She dropped to her knees and pulled the man onto his back. She turned white as a sheet when she saw his face, nearly gasped. The familiar sideburns, drawn face, spray of freckles. It was the same face she had known for years, the same face as her husband who knelt across from her, still struggling to catch his breath. It was the same man.

"The Doctor?" Her voice came out as a squeak and she slowly tore her gaze away from the man who lay unconscious in front of her.

"Seem to be, I'm accounted for." His worried eyes caught hers, and for just a moment, she could read the doubts in them. Would he still be enough? Had he ever been enough? There'd be time enough to worry about that later, what concerned her most immediately, was that he didn't seem to be breathing.

"Alright then," She knelt over the Doctor's chest, listening for any signs of life. His chest didn't rise, and no hint of breath came from his lips. She pressed her hands against his chest and counted off the compressions before plugging his nose and forcing air into his lungs, she could see his chest rise, but not on its own. She counted off another set of compressions, fear starting to fuel her pumping arms.

"Come on Doctor. Wake up." She said desperately as she pressed her lips against his cold ones once again, pushing more breath into him. She paused once to draw air and exhaled again, pushing all of her will and desperation into the effort, not wanting to think of what it meant if he stayed cold and dead like this. She felt him cough and sputter beneath her and she knelt back, covering her mouth with her hand as she felt her eyes fill with tears of relief. He turned to his side to choke up the water, his coughs were wet and broken and he gasped between them, struggling to get enough air. After a minute, he was able to take regular, if shaky breaths. He collapsed onto his back again, his own relief evident.

He seemed to notice them both then, confusion swept across his features as he saw John, but when his eyes focused on Rose a slow grin spread across his face.

"Rose Tyler." His voice was hoarse. "Fancy meeting you here."