DISCLAIMER: I don't own Doctor Who.
THANKS: to JennyLD for the beta and for the prompt that led to this story.

Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man, ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand -- Tiny Dancer by Elton John

A hand swept gracefully through the grains of yellow sand before moving up in a fluid motion to join its twin, curving elegantly over a brunette head. A poised leg kicked out once, twice, then again before spinning the small child around, her pink tutu a blur of color against the dull, grey sky. The girl hummed along to music only she could hear, but the Doctor recognized the tune; he'd written it himself.

He watched from a short distance, smiling as she dipped back down again, the setting sun shining through her hair and silhouetting her briefly as her lithe body blocked it from his view.

She was beautiful.

Standing on tiptoes, she pirouetted again, then dropped to the warm sand with a giggle. Still humming, she settled her legs out in front of her, digging her toes into the sand.

A hand slid into his and he instinctively threaded their fingers together. Lifting their clasped hands, he pressed his lips briefly to Rose's, then swung her around to stand in front of him. Wrapping his arms around her, he gently kissed her chilly lips.

She rested her forehead against his chest, slipping her jacketed-arms around his waist. "Your daughter is as tone deaf as you are."

Chuckling, he settled his chin on the top of her head, watching as their daughter tried to stand on her head, ending up with a face full of pink tutu in the process.

"Regrets?" Rose asked, tightening her arms around him and snuggling closer.

Holding tight to one half of everything that he held most dear in his lives, he thought about all the dangers they'd faced over the years. Thought about all the times he could've lost them. About how much safer they would've been if he'd left them on Earth as he'd tried to do so long ago.

Rubbing his cheek against her head, he whispered, "Not one."