Donovan had been there with the whole team, watching from off in the distance as the hospital staff had been released from isolation and reunited with their families. It was a bright, sunny day in Cardiff and the heat from the sun had warmed his face but not as much as the sight had warmed his heart. He'd had his arm around Miranda's shoulders, smiling broadly. He hadn't been with the Torchwood team long, but he'd been with them long enough to know that Torchwood received precious few days like this - good days where everybody lives. Even Kowda and Oliver had come through in spectacular fashion. Kowda's new pacemaker was functioning well and all of the staff were symptom free. No one had thanked them. No one had known. All they'd known was that a special team had swooped in with an experimental treatment that had been a success. But Donovan didn't care. He didn't want thanks. He didn't want praise. Seeing the families hugging and kissing and crying their tears of joy was enough for him.

He and Miranda had celebrated properly during his remaining week with Torchwood, spending many late evenings and nights in each other's arms. It had been a week of normal little Torchwood things - Weevils and artefact retrievals. In between, when they rift allowed it, he and miranda had laughed and talked. It had been a wonderful affair full of lust and love; although the latter was quite one sided but Donovan had told Miranda the truth. He hadn't minded.

It was Miranda, not Ianto, who'd driven Donovan back to Cardiff International Airport for his flight back to America. They were standing just inside the terminal with Donovan's bags at their feet. He had her hands in his. He was grateful not just to Torchwood but to her. Torchwood had educated his mind but Miranda Ryan had educated his heart. She may not have known it but being with her had returned a warmth to him that he hadn't even realised he'd lost.

Now, it was time for their affair to end and for Donovan's new story to begin. He felt like he should be sad but he wasn't. He was going home and he was doing so with a hopeful soul. And one good solid hope is worth a truckload of certainties… his mother had said to him once. He had to arm the human race for the future. The twenty first century is where everything changes. Message received, Mr. Hopkins… He had a mission. He had a purpose. This door in Cardiff was closing and another was opening for him. He would file away his time with Torchwood and Miranda along side some of the most memorable and significant of his life. He stared into Miranda's honey coloured eyes. It was strange, but he didn't think he would miss her. Donovan gave her one last kiss. It was tender and slow. When he stepped back, he cupped her face. For a few minutes, silently, he stood there, looking down at her, rubbing at her cheek with his thumb.

"I love you, Miranda," he said, gently.

Every time he'd said those words to her, he saw an almost infinitesimal wince on her face. At first, he'd thought that wince was guilt over the fact that she didn't love in him return, but after a few days he'd figured out the real reason and it had broken his heart. Miranda Ryan felt she didn't deserve to be loved. He'd done his best to show her how much she'd done for him, how alive she'd made him feel but nothing had been able to penetrate this penitent shame that hung around her like a fog. He had no idea why it existed and he hadn't even tried asking but he knew that guilt like that in a woman like this wasn't from something insignificant nor was it an over reaction to something trivial.

During his time here, she'd imparted words of personal and professional wisdom. Learning from someone who'd lived more than a few lifetimes was quite a unique opportunity. So, he'd taken all of her advice to heart. He'd taken time each day to examine his life, his priorities and his behaviour, and he vowed to change. She'd given him so much without even knowing it and now, he felt the need to say something to her in return. He didn't think she'd listen but he had to try.

"Do me a favor, babe, and listen to me. I get that to you I'm just a kid. Fuck, everyone to you must be just a kid, but… just listen for a minute, okay? I see that look on your face every time I tell you how I feel. I know you don't think you deserve love or happiness."

She turned her gaze down, staring at their joined hands. He put his hand on her chest and said, "I know that in here, you're nailing yourself to your own cross every minute of every day. It might be kinda cocky but I think I know you well enough now to assume that whatever you're punishing yourself for, it's something big - something you think is unforgivable. Whatever it is, you really got to let up on yourself a little."

He patted her trouser pocket, indicating the antique rosary beads the immortal woman always carried. "Matthew 7:1, 'Judge not, or you too will be judged.' It isn't just about our judgement of others. It counts for ourselves too. Only God judges us, Miranda. To be absolved, you need remorse and you already got that in spades."

He cupped her face again but she didn't look up at him. He said, softly, "I get that's not what you want. I get that you want to go on punishing yourself but if what you did is really as bad as I think it is, then you believe that there's an eternity of punishment waiting for you on the other side. Don't you think that punishing yourself in this one is being melodramatic?"

He hooked his index finger under her chin and stared her straight in the eyes and said, "Everyone deserves someone who'll make them look forward to tomorrow. When you find that person, don't let whatever this is stop you from loving them or letting them love you because it's not just you who you're punishing. You're punishing them too."

He rubbed her jaw with his thumb while he let his words sink in a bit. She swallowed and Donovan swore she almost quirked a smile at him.

She let go of his hand and stepped back. "Godspeed, Ethan."

He'd said his piece.

"Goodbye, Miranda." Donovan turned and walked away. He was taking the first physical steps towards his new life and now it was time to take the metaphorical ones too. He took out his mobile phone and dialed. The call was answered on the third ring.

"Hey, Becca, it's Dad… Yes, I got your message again… Well, what did your mother say?… I agree with her, but I'm not saying no to helping you out until you do find some work but I've got some conditions… Well, for starters, how about you have dinner with your old man and tell me all about your first month at school?… Great… No, I'm getting on the plane now. I'll be home tonight so how about this weekend… Yes, I'll see you then… I love you too, sweetheart. Bye."

Donovan disconnected the call and moved through the security line. He had two more phone calls to make before he caught his flight home.