Bonfire

That first evening the clan started what quickly became their nightly ritual: a bonfire on the beach. One of the storerooms on the ground floor contained a treasure trove of beach toys, including a dozen high-backed, short-legged folding canvas beach chairs. Mike and the Doctor carried all of them up and across the bridge, then down to a sheltered gap between two high dunes where a large pile of charred wood and ashes revealed it a favorite spot for such fires. When Donna unearthed a dozen long-handled skewers in a kitchen drawer, and produced both hot dogs and marshmallows from the grocery cache, it was a done deal.

Soon the cheerfully crackling flames had a full circle of admirers, and even Hannah was coaxed away from her latest masterpiece to join the party. As the sun set over Pamlico Sound, eleven contented travelers relaxed back in their chairs, desultorily browning marshmallows and enjoying the gooey sweetness.

Rose smiled across the flames at their host. "Thank you, Mike, for bringing us here. For the first time in fourteen years, I don't hate the beach any more."

Wilf was puzzled. "Why would you hate the beach, sweetheart?"

She gave him an ironic glance. "I have some pretty bad memories of the beach – a certain beach, anyway." She turned the other way and gazed at the Doctor, memories of both visits to Bad Wolf Bay almost visibly playing behind her eyes. He solemnly looked back, then held out his hand across the tiny gap between their chairs. Significantly, he didn't pick up her hand, but waited for her to reach back for his, and when she did so, it was with an air of apology. Then she hitched her chair to touch his, and rested her head on his shoulder; and he leaned his cheek onto her hair, sighing softly.

More than one pair of eyes caught the entire little scene, each wondering what it was about. Whatever had been between them looked like it was patched up now. Donna snuck a peek sideways at Mike, her breath catching at the unguarded look of longing written on his face, before he deliberately dropped his eyes back to the fire as if tearing his gaze away from a painful sight.

"Do you remember the beach on Irrigon Island, Doctor?" came Hannah's voice, the only adult who had not been watching the couple. "And the fires they lit there for the Feast of Centuries?" She had decided not to cut the long ginger hair her regeneration after rescuing Rose from the Immortality Gate had given her, and the long curly tresses tumbled around her shoulders, catching the fire and reflecting it. She stared into the flames as if mesmerized, seeing scenes from so long ago.

"No, actually I don't," the Doctor replied. "I don't think I ever went there."

He may as well have not spoken at all. "The fires ringed the entire island, one for every century of the Time Lords' existence." Her voice seemed to come from as far away as the memories. "And we each walked the sacred path of history, stopping at each fire to remember and reflect. The fires burned all night, until the morning tide put them out and washed away the ashes. And after the tide receded, it was as if they had never been."

"What did you eat at the feast?" Sylvia asked her, a hint of weariness in her voice. She got no answer, though; Hannah simply continued staring silently into the flames. Sylvia shared a glance with Donna and shrugged.

The twins distracted everyone then by getting into a squabble over whose turn it was to roast the next marshmallow – for some incomprehensible twinnish reason they'd insisted on sharing a skewer. Mike growled at them to stow it, and without any segue at all, they were off into an argument over how many sand dollars each of them had gathered that afternoon. Mike just shook his head, grinning ruefully across the fire. "ADOS," he commented to the group in general.

"ADOS?" queried Rose.

"Runs in the family. Attention Deficit – Ooh! Shiny!" he grinned.

Rose giggled. "On this side it's more often Attention Deficit – Oh! Slitheen!"

Donna: "I prefer Oi! Spaceman!"

Wilf: "While the rest of us poor slobs are stuck dealing with ADHD: Aliens Descending! Help! Doctor!" He turned to grin at the Time Lord, who returned it.

"To which I respond with GRAY! Grab Rose – Allons-Y!" His grin widened at their collective groans – then he ducked as they pelted him with marshmallows. "Oi!" And he began grabbing the puffs and throwing them back.

They quickly found themselves lined up naturally in two teams: the Doctor, Rose, Davey and Lucy on one side, with Donna, Mike and the twins on the other. The other three remained carefully neutral, Sylvia and her dad chortling at the various antics, while Hannah simply gaped, dumbstruck. Sadly, it didn't take long before the marshmallows were exhausted, falling into sand or fire or – a lucky few – into the combatants' mouths. As the last one bounced off Mike's head and sailed into the dark, they collapsed back into their chairs, giggling.

Mike noticed Hannah's expression, then. "What? Haven't you ever seen a food fight before?"

"A food fight?" she echoed faintly.

"Better a food fight on the beach than a cat fight!" Donna put in gaily, before turning to the kids. "OK, gang, it's late – especially with this time change. Off to bed!" Busy gathering the younger generation up and chivvying them across the bridge, she missed the Doctor and Rose exchanging puzzled glances. Then they shrugged, and began carefully putting out the fire.