Chapter One

A/N: Got the idea for Magdalene's character while listening to Evanescence's "Bring Me To Life". And since I haven't really written a Torchwood story recently, I thought I'd plop her down in Cardiff. And since Jack is just so irresistibly sexy in a bizarre kind of way… haha, enjoy!!

Magdalene was running. Her heart was pounding furiously as icy cold gasps of breath pierced her exhausted lungs. Leaping over branches and stones, her legs could barely keep her upright. She could hear dogs howling behind her, and men's voices raised in anger. Twigs and branches held out their fingers, tangling them in her clothing and hair, cutting at her skin life so many icicles. Howling, shouting, terror.

Keep running! her instincts told her. Keep running and never, never stop!!

But she knew perfectly well that she'd have to stop eventually. And when she did, there was going to be hell to pay.

She shuddered inwardly, already able to feel the dogs' teeth ripping her worn, battle-scarred flesh to bits.

But maybe, just maybe, death wasn't the worst option. She'd come to learn a thing or two about life, through death.

First went Fionn, her brother. Battle was an ugly thing, especially if you were young and pig-headed and desperate for the glories of war, as Fionn was. Magdalene felt the cold bite into her skin as she thought of her brother. Always smiling, always a warm presence… the Summer child.

But he wasn't smiling that terrible day. The bloodlust in his eyes as the look-out's horn blew was truly terrifying. Magdalene had strapped on his sword, acting as his lady in place of the wife he did not have. She had been shaking all over, head whirling with worry for her closest friend.

One of the dogs let out a piercing howl that split the frigid air of the night like a knife. Chills that had nothing to do with the wintry weather ran up and down Magdalene's spine, their freezing fingers leaving a tingling, electrifying sensation behind them.

Fionn had been brave, reckless, and loyal to the death. To the death… Magdalene reflected miserably. Oh, Fionn, you stupid boy! He had been one of the first to fly onto the field of battle, and one of the last to finally accept defeat, with a sword through his middle, his life's blood flowing out onto the trampled ground.

Magdalene had been one of the pale, worried wraiths flitting around the blood-bathed field looking for survivors after the tumult had died down. She was the one who had found him, gasping for his last breaths in this life. She'd held him as the life left his body.

Another howl. More steps, more frozen breaths, more pain. But she would never give up. Not while her legs could still hold her up. She kept going- for Fionn… for…

Tears pricked at her eyes, and immediately froze on her cheeks as they came in contact with the bitingly cold wind that whipped past her, causing her long black hair to fan out behind her. The second death had been more recent, occurring only two days ago. That death was the reason she was running madly from the hunters. That death was the reason she felt so broken, empty, and cold inside as well as out.

Niall was a poet, by nature and by trade. He was romantic and chivalrous to the core, and what's more, he loved her. He truly did love her. He had found it in his large, warm heart to love the Winter child. The cold one. The princess of ice. She had been born to the royal couple, and in their land at the time, the children must be born to balance the realm. That meant summer and winter. Fionn and Magdalene. Fionn, the Summer child, had always been loved by all who knew him. And Magdalene… well, there was only so much a courtier or potential suitor could take of long silences and calculating stares. But Niall, in his goodness, had found it in himself to care, to get to know her, to find the best in her and to bring it to the surface.

Oh, God, Niall! she cried inside her head, for her labored breathing was all that her airways could sustain at the present time. He didn't care if she was cold, aloof, and distant. He knew the meaning of hidden depths. And it was that connection, that understanding, that had caused Magdalene to fall for him as well.

They had meant to be happy together. They'd meant to live out their lives together, never parted, happy forever. But that, alas, was not to be. When Magdalene's father told her she was to be betrothed to the Earl of the Moorlands, she had been struck speechless, unable to break her moral code and scream out that she would not accept the offered betrothal. He dimwittedly took her silence as acceptance, and had proceeded with the marriage treaty. But she couldn't, and wouldn't, marry the earl while she was still able to be with Niall. They had panned an escape, an elopement, but the wretched earl, being possessive as he was, took Magdalene's refusal and Niall's "impudence" as a personal slight and hunted them down. He challenged Niall to a fight to the death, and Niall, being unable to refuse (seeing as he and Magdalene were backed up against a cliff wall) had been the unfortunate loser. He, too, had died in her arms, his last breath drawn in pain. Still, at least he died after the earl, who had received a dagger through the heart by the viciously angry Magdalene. And that was why these wretched hunters and their horrid dogs were after her, chasing her until her body would take no more. They were after what they termed justice. They wanted her head, or at least the satisfaction of seeing her blood run in red rivulets through the pure white snow.

Concentrating now on simply putting one foot in front of the other, Magdalene could only hear the sound of her own ragged breathing, and the sound of her heart as thundered against her body ribcage. She could feel nothing but the immense weight of exhaustion pressing down on her thin, pale form. She held her tattered green skirts high in an effort of keeping them from snagging on protruding branches, and for that same reason, she had dispensed with her black cloak long ago. All she was capable of knowing was the terrible cold, the tiredness, and the terror of the chase.

She started praying. Not to any deity in particular, but to any god that would be willing to lend an ear. Please, help me! Let me escape these dratted dogs! Or if you can't do that, just let me die quickly. Then I'd see Fionn again, and my wonderful Niall! Just end it now!

And suddenly, all was blackness. She could feel herself falling, falling, falling, her sense of equilibrium thrown for a terrible loop, her head spinning and her stomach churning as though she was going to be violently ill… but she could see nothing but blackness al around her, and could hear nothing but the rush of her own heated blood and her relentless heartbeat. She was capable of feeling no more shock and mind-numbing fear, but she was curious as to what was happening.

Am I dead? she wondered. Was my prayer finally answered? What is happening?

Then she felt as though her body had hit solid rock, and she regained her senses again for one fleeting moment, taking in the sight of some strange, rocky surface on which she rested, hearing a strange rumbling noise, and feeling a warm breeze on her tired body before she lost consciousness and slipped into the land of darkness.