A/N: I was watching Midnight again, and I found myself feeling rather sorry for Jethro. He seems like a decent kid who got caught up in a bad situation, so I thought I'd give him a shot at redemption and see how it turned out.

Everything belongs to the BBC, except maybe the potted plant. We'll go ahead and say that's mine.

Jethro was sitting on the floor next to a large potted plant in a long, deserted hallway. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall with a thump. He just had to get away from them all—he couldn't bear it anymore! His mum and dad, laughing and talking, going about with their holiday like nothing had happened. It was true, the ride back had been painful—everyone silent and ashamed, no one looking one another in the eye…Once they'd gotten back to the leisure palace though, back where everyone felt safe and normal again, it just amazed him how quickly everyone returned to normal. By the time dinner rolled around, it was like the events of that morning had never happened. His mum and dad had been arguing over which show they ought to go and see after dinner, and Jethro had leapt to his feet and run from the room feeling sick to his stomach.

He gripped the sides of his head with a groan. He felt like crying, but after two hours sitting here, he had nothing left. He just didn't understand. That…thing, whatever it was, that was the most horrible thing Jethro had ever seen in his life. Already, the thought of going to sleep filled him with dread, because he knew a long string of nightmares were waiting for him. And as if that wasn't bad enough, they'd nearly killed a man! Sure, he hadn't been one of the ones dragging the Doctor towards the door, but he may as well have been. He certainly hadn't tried to stop them, had he? And earlier, the Doctor had looked at him, had tried to talk him into staying on the side of reason, but Jethro faltered. He knew the Doctor was right, deep down, he knew it, but he was scared. Scared, and he sided with them, and look what happened. He felt disgusted with the lot of them, but then he caught himself with a scornful snort. "Cause you're so much better than them, aren't you?" he murmured to himself. "May as well have helped Dad drag him to the door, for all the good you did." Dad. Oh, sweet heaven help him! He drew his legs up to his chest and buried his face in his knees. How could he ever look at his dad the same way again?

He rocked slowly back and forth as he found that he had tears left to shed after all. His whole world had turned upside down, and he didn't know what to do about it. He didn't even know who he was anymore. Sure, he knew he'd always had a smart mouth and a bit of an attitude—he knew he could be a pain from time to time, but he'd always thought that underneath that, he wasn't such a bad person. Before today, he would never have thought that killing someone would have been a solution to anything. He'd never even been in a fight at school! He thought that he could never be the kind of person who would deliberately hurt someone else, or stand by while others were doing the same, but now, he just didn't know. Now that he had seen what it was like, he wanted to say that he would never stand by again, but today had rattled his faith in himself. If there ever was a next time, what was to stop him from breaking down like today? An innocent man, a man who had been trying to help them, was almost killed, and Jethro hated himself, whoever he was now, for that.

The time dragged slowly by, whether hours or minutes, he couldn't tell, and he stayed with his head down and his thoughts churning, the silence of the hallway broken only by the occasional sniffle. He looked up suddenly as he heard voices and soft footsteps passing him by. They didn't seem to have seen him, tucked away behind the pot plant. He stared stupidly at the retreating figures for a moment before realizing who it was. He scrambled clumsily to his feet, and, catching the noise, the Doctor and the woman stopped and turned around.

For a long moment, they all stared at each other, no one saying anything. The woman must have been the friend the Doctor mentioned…what was her name? He'd said it when they'd all started shouting at him. Donna? She was glaring at Jethro, looking like it was all she could do to keep herself from walking over and slapping him. The Doctor, on the other hand, didn't look angry, which surprised Jethro. He looked…tired. Maybe a little sad, but he was looking at the boy with a hard, even stare, coolly, without emotion.

Jethro swallowed uncertainly as he realized they were waiting for him to speak. He'd thought he would never see the Doctor again, and suddenly there was so much he wanted to say, nothing he felt he had the right to say, and no way to put any of it into words. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, lost for words. "Lauren," he found himself blurting out suddenly.

"What?"

"The hostess," Jethro said nervously. "Her name was Lauren. After we got back, I…I went and I asked."

"Why would you do that?" the Doctor asked. There was no disdain in his voice, just simple curiosity, almost as though he was testing him. His face still showed no emotion.

"She, well, she saved us. From that thing. No one knew her name, but I thought…I thought someone should," he finished quietly.

"You're right," the Doctor agreed. "Someone should." He folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head thoughtfully to the side. Something in his face had changed, as if he was looking at Jethro in a new light. Jethro shifted uncomfortably under his penetrating stare, but did not look away. A moment of silence passed before the Doctor went on. "Was that all you wanted to tell me?"

Jethro considered for a moment. "No," he said finally. "I…" He bit his lip. He looked up, for a brief moment looking the Doctor squarely in the eye, and before he knew it the words just came pouring out. "I was so scared," he said softly. "You were right, I knew you were, but everyone was shouting, and she just—she just kept looking at me!—and then mum was shouting at me, and she was repeating, and then you were repeating, and she was moving but she was just so wrong! And there was so much noise, and my dad was dragging you to the door…My dad! My own father was going to kill you, and I—" His voice caught in his throat, but he rambled on. "I just stood there! I should have done something, I could have—But I couldn't—I didn't—" He stopped and drew in a ragged breath, trying to calm his voice. "None of any of that is good enough," he said, as steadily as he could manage. "And nothing really is, I suppose. I know it doesn't mean anything coming from me, not after this morning, but for what it's worth…I am so, so very sorry." His voice broke on the last word and Jethro looked down at the floor. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, blinking furiously as he fought back a fresh wave of tears. Silence followed, and he knew that was all he deserved—forgiveness was certainly too much to hope for, and if the Doctor's friend had walked over and slapped him now, he wouldn't have blamed her in the slightest.

He jumped in surprise, therefore, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw the Doctor standing in front of him. "Thank you," he said, simply, sincerely, the lines of his face becoming softer and warmer. "And you're wrong. It does mean something coming from you. I don't know that I can say it's okay, but…Thank you."

Jethro blinked, confused. He hadn't expected this at all. "But, I—"

"What? Don't deserve it?" the Doctor finished. " 'Course you don't! Neither do I, when it comes down to it. But that's the thing about forgiveness, isn't it?"

Jethro considered this, and realized he didn't know if he was actually being forgiven or not.

"Thing is, Jethro," the Doctor went on. "You're a good kid. You just need to take your own stand on things. Don't let the other people and the noise push you around, or one day you'll wake up and the good kid who made a mistake has turned into a weak man who makes the same mistake all the time."

Jethro took a deep breath, soaking in the Doctor's words. Here was the man they had all tried to kill just this morning, and instead of being angry, instead of lashing out at Jethro like he had every right to do, he stood there with his hand on Jethro's shoulder trying to help him. Jethro wasn't sure who he really was at the moment, but he realized that once he got it sorted out, he would be doing alright if he could end up like this guy.

"Now," the Doctor said, removing his hand from Jethro's shoulder. "I would imagine you've got some thinking to do. Go and get it done, and try to do the right thing next time around." A small smile crossed his face. "I think you'll manage."

"Yes sir," Jethro said softly. He wanted to say more, but realized there was nothing else that needed to be said. He nodded, and the Doctor nodded back, took Donna's hand, and turned to walk off down the corridor. Jethro returned to his plant and sat down with a heavy sigh. He was distracted a few minutes later by a harsh, grating, windy sort of sound echoing down the corridors. His thoughts resumed their racing, but his mind was much clearer than before. Maybe he would be okay after all.

Donna grumbled as the Doctor led her back to the TARDIS. He had told her what happened on that bus, and she had wanted nothing more than to slap that kid and give him a piece of her mind. "I mean, how can he just apologize, after all that?" she demanded. The Doctor sighed, but Donna went on before he could answer. "And you let him! Like it's as simple as that!"

"But he apologized, Donna. He meant it."

"And that makes it okay, does it?" she snapped.

"No. No it doesn't," the Doctor replied. "But it means there's still hope for him."

"What?"

"That fact that he apologized doesn't make up for what happened, but he had the guts to admit it was wrong. None of the others did. Like I told him, he's a good kid. He just made a mistake."

"Hell of a mistake," Donna said.

The Doctor nodded. "Yeah. You learn more from the big ones."

"Fair enough. If you want to forgive him, go ahead then, but can I just go back and smack him on the back of the head? Or maybe give him a good kick?"

The Doctor laughed then, and for the first time since he'd gotten off that bus all those hours ago, Donna saw a glimmer of his usual joy in his eyes. "I'd rather you didn't," he said, throwing an arm around her and flashing her a warm smile. "But I do appreciate the gesture."