She liked to leave the window open and let in the light. The fresh salt air lifted the lace curtains in the light breeze, but she liked that too. It let in more light into the simple room. One bed, a faded quilt, a small table to hold the remains of the meal her nurse had brought to her on the tray made of shells. The aging bookcase and desk were there, although her eyes could no longer make out the print in her beloved books. Her hands were too arthritic now to pen ink to paper.
She knew she was dying. She saw mostly shadows and light, a little color on a good day. Her treasures were stored on the nightstand in a bronze box stamped with gypsy patterns swirling and twisting their way to the edges. Dented and slightly rusted at the hinges, it had been passed down her family on Earth for centuries, long before they migrated to the stars. It was the way of all things, the birthing and the dying. She smiled as she remembered the births, strong sons with lusty cries. The smile faded as the memory of death carved fresh grief into her heart: a husband struck down in defense of family, a child carried to an unimaginable fate, and a son lost to time.
She heard a rustle at the door.
"Come in Sarah, the tray is on the table."
Sarah didn't answer.
A tall shadow stood by her bedside, and knelt down.
"Mom," he said as he leaned nearer. "Mom?"
She reached her hand to touch the face: unruly hair, a strong jaw line with full lips, a dimple on the chin. She drew his head closer to her face to see the eyes.
"Blue!" she cried with joy. "Tell me it's you, son!"
Jack stretched over the bed to gather the frail body in his arms. "It's me."
She clutched at him tightly, afraid to believe her senses, that this was a trick of the mind. Jack held her, fighting back the tears, wanting to make the most of each moment.
"There is someone else here," said Jack as he fought to keep his voice steady. "I found him, I found Gray." He gently pulled his brother to his side and placed her hand on his face. "See?" He then moved aside so his brother could take his place.
Gray reached for the other hand and placed the aged fingers on his face. She explored his features and then pulled him closer. Tears streamed from her eyes as she repeated his name.
"I'm OK, Mom." Gray whispered. "Jack and I are OK."
The Doctor stood quietly by the door watching them. He stepped back into the hall and quietly closed it and waited, shadowed by his own thoughts of family lost and family found.
Jack moved to the other side of the bed and took off his coat to cover his mother's shoulders where the quilt had pulled away. He climbed in next to his mother, like he used to do as a boy, embracing her, rubbing her back. Gray moved to lay in front of her, lightly pushing away her tears with his thumb, whispering words he never had the chance to say. There they stayed in soft embrace as the sunlight faded from the room into a sparkling dark of the night sky, the ocean below beating a steady pulse against the shore. When the morning light found them again, the brothers were there still, but she passed in night.
The Doctor returned and waited by the door, waited for the grieving brothers to say good-bye. Jack stood by the window and watched the ocean swells break on the distant shore, waiting for his brother as Gray opened her small box, and smiling at the pictures of the small family when they were young. Jack absently looked down at the bookcase. His father's sketchbook was on top, filled with speculative drawings for Boeshane colony, new hopes and dreams. He opened it, paging slowly through it, taking in the drawings made so long ago.
The Doctor stepped inside the room. Gray held up the bronze box. The Doctor nodded. No timelines crossed in old family pictures and letters. Jack picked up the journal, but the Time Lord shook his head. Disappointed, Jack put it down, but then a small smile spread over his face. Franklin's work still had a future. Dad would like that.
The colony was starting to wake up. The smell of coffee drifted in the air. Snatches of conversation filtered through the open window. The Doctor motioned to the time travelers. The blue police box in the hall was out of place and would soon be discovered. Gray put his mother's gypsy box into his coat, while Jack took one last look at the woman who lay peacefully on the bed. The time travelers quietly shut the door, and soon the grinding noise of the TARDIS was replaced by the soft rhythmic surge of the sea.