Completely missing - or rather ignoring - the point of Gwen's confidences, Miranda had buried herself in the former PC's fertility struggles. She'd brushed up on her reproductive medicine. She'd downloaded article after article. She'd done hours of research, completely losing herself in Gwen and Rhys's cause. She'd gone to bed ridiculously late and gotten up just as early. After a quick run for some exercise, she'd returned to her computer for more research. Reproxcxc It was a hand on her shoulder around lunchtime that brought her head up.

"Evie?" Fish said, an amused smile on his face.

She quickly closed article. She was certain that Gwen didn't want to announce her troubles to the rest of the team. Before she could ask the Australian was he wanted, he held up his mobile. "Henry's waiting for you."

"What?"

"Lunch," Fish said, his smile widening. "You were supposed to have lunch with him, remember?"

Miranda uttered an ancient curse. She'd forgotten. She looked at her ignored mobile telephone. There were several missed texts and calls. She got up and scrambled for her coat and sword. Earlier in the week, the Duke asked her to meet him for lunch. Likely he had yet another idea for a marriage proposal that he would, in a week or two, abandon.

Fish, amused, said, "I'll let him know you're on your way."

He turned away, chuckling a bit. It wasn't like Miranda to be so out of joint. She ignored him. Once she was in her coat and properly armed, she drove to the restaurant. Once she walked up to the door, she'd immediately felt Henry's presence. She slipped her hand into her coat, relaxing when she saw it was, indeed, Henry she sensed. He was already seated, perusing the menu. She sat down opposite him, draping her coat over the back of the chair so as not to reveal the sword concealed within. Henry's coat was arranged in a similar fashion. Oddly, Henry had suggested a restaurant she and Nora had often eaten at. She didn't bother with the menu. She always ordered the same thing. It had unnerved Nora to no end. The Thai food had been a favourite of theirs because they had shared their first date here.

"Your grace," she said, politely. She then scolded, "You should not have assumed it was me."

"Mao-Lin, how are you? I'm glad you're well," he replied, with mock frivolity. "And so punctual."

She gave his hand a light hearted slap. He laughed. They ordered their food and started to eat. Well, Henry ate. Miranda merely pushed her food around on her plate. Her mood had been light hearted and quite jovial when she'd arrived, it had waned quickly. The restaurant reminding her of past love.

"Have I done something to disturb your appetite?" Henry asked with a slight smile on his face.

"Hmm?" she asked.

He pointed at her plate with his fork. "Do not think I have not noticed you are merely pushing that curry about instead of eating it."

She ignored the statement and changed the subject, asking, "Have you decided on a date yet?"

"You are a meddlesome creature aren't you?" he retorted. His words may have been annoyed but his tone was friendly. He was just teasing her. His smile widened. She'd correctly assumed the reason for this lunch date.

Since Fish had left the marriage proposal in Henry's hands, he'd delayed a great deal. He'd started formulating his proposal the moment he'd moved to Cardiff. Unfortunately, he'd dismissed each idea in turn, deeming none of them suitable for his lover. Many ideas had come and gone and now years had gone with them. Henry was beginning to worry that he was pushing the limits of Fish's patience. He had been discussing his ideas and suggestions with Miranda for some time.

"I've told you that anything you do will sweep him off his feet," she said. Her voice was a bit harsh. She'd never understood why he continued to cast aside brilliant idea after brilliant idea. "You could tie the ring to your cock and he'd say yes."

Henry wiped his mouth and rolled his eyes. "Must you be vulgar?"

"I am merely pointing out that you are over thinking this, your grace," Miranda said. She pushed away her plate of mostly uneaten food. She waved at the ring on Henry's left hand. "Fish presented that to you years ago."

"This is a matter of some importance," he said, repeating himself for what felt like the thousandth time. "I've never proposed marriage before and Joe's prior experience with matrimony has left much to be desired."

Miranda rolled her eyes inwardly. She'd heard about Olivia Porter from Fish and her opinion of the woman couldn't be lower. Unstable nutter… She didn't express her real fear to her former student; that Torchwood would steal Fish from him before he had a chance to make his grand proposal and then Henry would be left with only regret.

"You are being too much the perfectionist," she warned. "I thought you were going to insert your proposal into the middle of one of your favourite films? So that he would be surprised when you two were watching it together?"

"I am still considering it. Ianto said he would be willing to assist me with the digital editing," Henry said. He picked up his water, taking a sip. "It felt too simple."

"Nonsense. It's spontaneous. It's unexpected. It's characteristic of your relationship," she said. When he had first come to her with this idea, she'd thought it was perfect. She'd also thought that of every single idea he'd presented to her.

"Yes, it was specific to our relationship but I didn't feel it tailored to Joe's interests," Henry explained. "He's quite fond of the New Year. I was thinking of proposing then."

The choice surprised Miranda but she said, brightly, "That is an excellent idea. I'm certain we can arrange time off for him on New Year's Eve and New Year's Day."

"I would appreciate it," he said, smiling.

He tilted his head and reached across with his fork. Miranda thought he was going to take a prawn off of her plate but instead, he tapped the edge of the plate.

"You still have not answered my question," he said. His smile had vanished, replaced with seriousness. "Something is troubling you."

It was a statement, not a question.

"Nothing you should concern yourself with," she said, dismissively.

Henry pushed the remainder of his food away. He leaned back in his seat and said, "You wear your heart on your sleeve, my friend."

Miranda sighed. She'd expected this from the team. She hadn't expected it from Henry. Fish had not only gossiped with the rest of the team but also with his lover. She opened her mouth to spout an angry barb about being the subject of their pillow talk and to say precisely what Fish could do with his mouth but Henry interrupted her. "Before you speak ill of Joe, I have seen the evidence with my own eyes. I saw you beside the captain's sickbed."

Miranda was about to give Henry the same rationale as she'd given Jack but he interrupted her again. "Do not give excuses that you are his physician. Your concern was more than that for one's patient."

Henry was an artist and excelled at seeing. Her formal address towards him was just that, a formality. They both knew Miranda's was the superior position. While they were close friends, it was usually Miranda who inquired about his life not the other way around. Henry was always respectful of her privacy, only accepting what she offered. This was the first time he'd been so blunt with her.

"I expected this from the team but not from you," she said. "You call me a meddlesome creature?"

"I don't wish to quarrel," he said, holding up a calming hand. He asked, seriously, "Is it the usual reasons?"

"Yes, it is," she replied, honestly.

It was a common immortal failing to anticipate loss and all the grief and pain that went with it. Every immortal developed their own defense mechanisms as the heart began bracing itself against inevitable pain. Ianto and Jack were still young. Ianto was still within the span of a normal life, little had changed for him. Jack, although a bit older, was still young - relatively speaking - but he tended to shield those around him, hoping to place himself between them and death itself. Hoping to soften the blow before it actually came, Henry attempted to build a tolerance to the grief. He mourned those he loved before their time. Miranda often avoided the situations altogether, accepting small morsels of happiness, grateful even for the small scraps and crumbs.

This wasn't the entire reason. Grief was always the emotion she had little strength against. Her break-up with Nora Ashline had hit her hard. Jack and Ianto's time in her bed had, as she expected, made things worse. The two friends, eager to ease Miranda's loneliness, had been extending invitations to her for years. Shortly after Ianto's first death, Miranda had begun accepting those invitations. Sometimes there wasn't even any sex, one or both men would come down to her rooms just to sleep. But she'd had no illusions about the arrangement. Jack and Ianto were the couple and Miranda was the guest. So, when the two had made a formal commitment to each other, Miranda had withdrawn. Even though the only difference in their relationship was the presence of rings on their fingers, she'd chosen to allow the men to settle into their new marital life together without her presence. And now, she was lonelier than ever.

"Change comes slowly," he said. He shifted the fingers of his left hand. The ring there was different than the gold and ruby one his late husband Matthew had given him. Matthew's joyful face appeared in his mind. That smile… The light of my life… Henry felt his heart constrict. He leaned forward, putting his forearm down on the table in front of him. He lowered his voice, "Joe likes to celebrate my birthday."

Miranda winced. She joyfully celebrated the random spring date the team had picked for her birthday as well as the birthdays of those around her. Henry was of a different mind, hating any reminder of the passage of time. It was why the choice of a New Year's proposal had surprised her. Not only did Henry despise his birthday, he equally despised the New Year and all the celebrations that went along with it.

"My melancholy ruined all of Joe's thoughtfulness," Henry said, with deep regret.

She didn't interrupt him. Henry's body language told her that he was about to speak for quite some time.

His voice wasn't entirely steady as he continued. "I could think only of how Matthew and I had celebrated each birthday, each passing year with such joy… and how that joy is now gone. I miss him, his smile, his laughter, his warmth. But most of all, I miss his love of life because it helped me to love my own."

He tapped his left ring finger on the table. "Like Matthew, Joe presented me with a ring. I thought opening my heart again was a betrayal. I thought that loneliness was a tribute to Matthew's memory and to the vastness of our love but it wasn't."

He nervously began to fiddle with the edge of his carefully folded napkin. "I know that Matthew often wrote you, asking how he could alleviate my despair over his inevitable demise. All too often I felt sorrow instead of joy, mourning him while he was still with me, still vibrant and alive."

She wondered how Henry had discovered this. She'd always believed Matthew to have written her in secret. Why is he wasting our short years together with sorrow, when he will have an eternity after I am gone for his grief? Matthew had asked.

"I'd so completely crushed Joe that he promised me he would never celebrate my birthday ever again. That was the deepest betrayal. Over a hundred years and I am making the same mistakes, inflicting the same pain on those I love." He took a deep, shaky breath. "The years I have with Joe… they will… they will be… even shorter…"

Henry shut his eyes against the pain. He swallowed past the hard lump in his throat. He fisted his hands and then forced them to relax as he tried to regain his composure. He looked up at her for the first time since he uttered Matthew's name. "You taught me that perceptions are everything in the Game; how your opponent perceives you can mean the difference between life and death. I may not celebrate my birthday nor the New Year with Joe's zeal, but slowly, I have tried to change my perceptions. I do not celebrate Joe becoming one year older and closer to death. I do not celebrate the coming of a new year, the year I may possibly lose him for ever. I celebrate Joe himself. I celebrate his similarities to Matthew - the same love of life, the same endless capacity to give, the same selflessness. And his differences - his calculating intellect, his deep empathy, his competitiveness with himself."

Henry reached into his pocket. He placed the small box on the table and tapped it with his finger. He carried the ring he'd bought for Fish with him everywhere he went, in case the moment suddenly struck him. "Slowly, I am learning. I am trying to fill these landmarks of time with memories I may treasure… when he is gone."

"Memories that will sting when those days come round again," she pointed out.

"But those stinging memories will be all I shall have. Drawings wear away. Paintings and photographs fade."

"So do memories," she argued.

"They are still there," he replied.

She looked out of the window. She went back into her memory as she had countless times in the past, reaching for the image of her first husband's face. It was like falling off a cliff, reaching out desperately for the edge, any hand or foothold and grasping only air as you fell.

"I can't remember Anj's face," she said bitterly.

"You don't need to," he replied. "That is not what was important."