First came the sound of ocean waves crashing and he knew then it wasn't a bad memory. He let out a heavy breath, feeling the salt air bite at his lungs. Waves lapped gently at his bare feet and still he kept his eyes tightly closed, letting the feeling of the sun beating down on him chase the fear out of his body.

He was surprised when he felt a tiny hand slip into his own. He opened his eyes for the first time and looked down to find two familiar amber eyes staring up at him. "Don't let go, Daddy," she said softly, shyly. The gentle breeze whipped at her lavender dress, already sandy at the hem.

"Never," he promised. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if they'd done it hundreds of times before, they ran into the oncoming waves.

The child squealed with glee as the salty spray hit them and Derek could only laugh at her unfettered childlike joy. And in that moment, it was so easy to imagine a life where this – father-daughter trips to the coast on weekends, just the two of them and the waves crashing relentlessly onwards – was a reality.

"Is there a God?" Rosie asked, holding his hand tightly and swinging their arms.

"I don't know," he replied honestly, staring off into the sun setting over the water in a splash of orange-red.

"Just tell me," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically.

"I would if I could, but I don't know and neither does anyone else," he insisted, looking down into her eyes.

"Grandma Fran knows," she said, "I hear her talking to God."

"No, she has a faith," Derek replied. "And that's a great thing to have, but faith is about what you think and feel, not what you know."

"What about Jesus?" Rosie persisted, attempting to climb him like a tree.

"Love that guy. Do what he says."

"But is he God?"

"I don't know," he said with a shrug, dislodging Rosie from her attempt to climb him. He lifted her up to sit on his shoulders. "I have an opinion, but that's my opinion and I could be wrong, so why would I screw up yours? Use your head, but don't be afraid to believe in things either." He reached up to tickle her ribs. "I'll tell you what though...one way or another, we all end up back together in the end. That's what you're asking, right?"

There was a long pause and he thought maybe she was mad at him. Then, with a sigh, she rested her chin on his head and said, "Yep." She popped the P sound deliberately.

"Find something else to worry about, will you?" Even as he said it, his thoughts drifted back to Emily, waiting for him on another plane. Maybe this was it – the end, his end – and what if what she saw when she'd coded was the only end waiting for her when she died?

He used his toe to draw a heart in the sand and he could feel Rosie's attention on his movements. "That's for her, isn't it?" she asked.

"Who?" he asked, even though he already knew.

"Mommy."

He was about to reply when he noticed the figure approaching. "Dad?" he said cautiously, curiously, hardly daring to believe it was really him, that any of this was real. He carefully lifted Rosie down from his shoulders and set her in the sand, taking several wary steps forwards.

"Looks like you've been in quite an accident," his father said, pointing to his forehead. "You're bleeding."

Derek frowned, reaching up to dab at the blood on his forehead that he was sure hadn't been there a moment before. "I didn't do anything wrong," he said without knowing why he felt the sudden need to defend himself.

"Of course not," his father said, holding up his hands in supplication. "I just need to ask you a few questions. Do you have any...?" he asked, trailing off.

Derek watched his eyes dart towards Rosie. "Children?" he asked, glancing back at the girl. "No. Not anymore."

"Good," his father said cryptically. "Because what's out there..." He gestured into the growing darkness down the beach that somehow, Derek knew meant life, living. "Let me tell you..." He shook his head, but didn't continue.

Derek whipped his head around, a far off voice on the wind. "Did you hear that?"

His father shook his head. "You're better off coming with me."

"Emily?" Derek shouted, certain this time he'd heard her voice calling to him.

"Nope. You're just tired, Derek," his father insisted.

"I am," he admitted. He was so tired.

"I know. It's been a long road with no turning back. Come on..." He reached a hand towards his son.

"Where are going, Dad?" he asked, stepping forwards to take the hand.

"Home, son. It's time to go home."

Then, again, the voice calling his name. "That's Emily..."

"You come with me, its the best thing," his father persisted, reaching again, more earnestly. "Come on."

Derek shook his head. "I have to go, Dad."

"Derek..."

"I have to go. I have to." He turned towards the voice calling for him, calling him back to life, when he again felt the tiny hands in his own, this time pulling him back with all the strength in her little body.

"No, Daddy!" she cried, fat tears already streaming down her chubby cheeks.

He knelt down in front of her, taking her face in his hands and wiping away the tears with his thumbs. "I'm so sorry, baby girl, but I have to go... It's not my time. Your Mommy is waiting for me."

"But..." she said, bottom lip wobbling pitifully. "I don't want you to go. I want you to stay here and play with me..."

"I know, Angel, I know. I want that too, but I'll be back before you know it and then we can play until the end of time, okay?"

She sniffled and flung her arms around him, as tightly as she could. "You promised you wouldn't let go..." she whispered.

His heart nearly broke in two, then, and he almost promised he'd stay if she'd only stop crying. But he couldn't stay. He knew that. "You have to let me go," he said, just as softly. He carefully extracted himself from her grip on him, feeling like the worst father in the world, wishing there were something, anything he could possibly do for her.

He set her gently in the sand, smoothing away the hair plastered to her face with tears. He kissed the top of her head gently. He didn't say anything because there was nothing left to say.

He turned and, with one last glance behind him at his forlorn daughter, he took off running into the growing darkness down the beach.