Summer in Cardiff was heat and haze.

Ianto sat on the low bench outside his father's shop, the ice cream in his hand perilously close to becoming soup in a matter of minutes and running all down his arm. He'd have to give it a few more licks if he was going to buy himself time. If another customer didn't come into the shop, his tad would come out and join him. They'd sit on the bench and watch people and make up stories about them.

Standing up, he peered through the window and saw his father crouching down, taking an inside leg measurement when Ianto knew he probably didn't have to. But it never hurt to double check as his father always said. Inside looked nice. Inside looked air conditioned. But he wasn't allowed inside until he was done with his ice cream, lest there be an accident with a half melted cone falling on a suit that needed mending.

Ianto eyed the double chocolate mint he was clutching before he dropped it into the bin next to him. If his mother was here, she'd scold him for the utter waste. But he wanted to go inside. His father was now back on his feet and moving toward his counter. Suddenly, Ianto was gripped with a fear that he'd go behind the curtain where Ianto could no longer see him.

Scrambling down from the bench, he raced in, the bell above the shop door chiming as he did.

"Ianto?"

"Tad, I'm done!" he called, waving his free hands as proof.

Fall in Cardiff was brief and fleeting.

It was time for school to begin and Ianto had outgrown his old coat. His father was measuring him for a new one. He held up the tape measure for Ianto to see how tall he'd gotten.

"Keep on like this and you'll be taller than me soon," his father stated with a fond smile. "You'll be the tallest Jones in all of Wales."

"No, I won't," Ianto protested, giggling. He squirmed a little and felt his father put a gentle hand on his shoulder to keep him still.

"Head up. Look straight ahead," he instructed. Ianto stared at his reflection in the full length mirror. His seven year old self smiled back at him as his father stretched out an arm to measure. "Look at you," his father murmured, sliding the tape measure over his sleeve. "All grown up."

His tad sounded happy, but also sort of sad.

Winter in Cardiff was long and freezing.

Ianto lay on his stomach in the living room where his father had lit a fire. He looked up from his arithmetic homework and saw his parents, cuddling on the sofa, his father pressing a kiss to his mother's lips.

Ianto made a face, much to the amusement of both his parents.

"You'll think differently when you're older," his father stated, knowingly. "And a pretty girl catches you," he added, smiling at Ianto's mam.

Ianto wasn't convinced. "Girls are stupid," he proclaimed.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't have to be a girl," his tad speculated with a teasing smile.

"Huh?"

"Huw!" his mam scolded. Only Ianto knew she wasn't really scolding because she was laughing.

"You'll see, Ianto," his father continued. "You'll meet someone and the entire world will be different."

"Different?"

"Better."

Spring in Cardiff was temperamental and wonderful.

It had rained the night before, leaving behind a fresh, clean smell.

Ianto laughed as his father grabbed him under his arms and swung him upward. The tree was damp, but its branches were thick and solid. And now they were well within his reach and Ianto grasped onto the nearest one to climb.

He made his way up steadily, careful to have a good grip on the next branch before pushing off. He climbed and climbed for what felt like awhile before he looked back and saw how far off the ground he was. And how small his father looked from this distance.

Suddenly, Ianto froze as vertigo struck him. He couldn't move. He couldn't go back down and the branches above him seemed too far to reach.

He clutched at the branch he was sitting on. "Tad!" he cried, frightened.

"Keep going, Ianto," his father called to him from below. "You can make it."

"I can't!" he sobbed.

"It's alright. Look up."

Still keeping a death grip, Ianto craned his head up to look. A hand, attached to a blue-grey sleeve, was stretched out toward him.

"Take it," said his tad from below. "You'll be alright."

Bit by bit, Ianto forced his right hand to let go of the branch. It was slow going, but finally he reached up, fear giving into slight confusion when he saw how big his own hand seemed to be. He wavered from grasping the wool sleeve.

Twisting slightly, Ianto looked back down and saw his tad, smiling encouragingly. He looked happy, but also sort of sad again.

"Don't be afraid, Ianto. You'll be alright."

And Ianto knew it had to be true. So he reached up and hung on as he was pulled upwards and home.

THE END