Each day is a reminder of the agony of combat, each step a hard-won victory. Halloween is my least favorite time of year right now, the idea of ghouls and goblins too much so I retreat to my cabin in the woods. Today, my steps of victory crunch through melting snow and piles of fallen leaves. Since my last case, I find myself on leave for some much needed rest. Like I needed a break. Me. Mister Workaholic. I hate it here.

My legs burn, regardless of the cold. This daily run grounds me. I've kept the habit from before the Agency, through my Special Forces career, and now here, one of the few things I kept from my previous life.

I push on through my woods. Trees slide past in a blur. My lungs settle into my pace, my chest rising and falling in customary rhythm. Puffs of steam escaping my lips into the frigid air. My feet land on the familiar trail, my legs stretching over downed branches without thought.

My body has run this path so many times it no longer needs my conscious thoughts to guide it. My mind is free to roam into the darkness. I struggle to keep my thoughts on the path, to skirt the empty abyss that beckons.

My property consists of three-hundred acres of heavily forested woodlands. When I first came here, the woods seemed to stretch forever, an expansive embrace of trees and wildlife. Now I quickly reach my property line and make the turn back towards the cabin, following the remnants of snowy footprints from my last run.

My only companion, my gray and white husky, Myfanwy, knows the path well, too. As we make the turn towards home, she bounds ahead excitedly kicking up snow and leaves with her fast feet. Myfanwy stops suddenly, several paces ahead on the trail. She raises her nose to the air and catches a scent. The rabbit flashes across the path and Myfanwy gives chase. She shoots into the brush, her gray fur flashing against the white of the snow. I watch her go, wondering if I should follow, but I run on. Myfanwy can take care of herself in the woods better than I can. She'll come home when she's had her fill of fun.

The music in my earbuds blasts the last of my dark thoughts about death and life away. I match my feet to the beat and plunge forward one step at a time, eager to get home before darkness falls. A sharp bark intrudes over the music. I slow my pace, turn the volume down, and Myfanwy barks again.

I pull an earbud out.

"Myfanwy?" I call into the trees.

A whine and a yelp echo in the stillness. Panic spurs my feet, and I crush into the brush. One earbud hangs from its wire, bouncing against my chest. My breath claws at my chest, hidden branches cling to my feet.

Myfanwy's paw prints lead to a frozen pond and continue onto the thin sheet of snow blowing across the ice. Several yards away, Myfanwy scrapes the edge of an icy hole, desperate to draw herself out of the frigid water. She yelps in fear, her bright blue eyes pleading for help. The ice moans beneath my weight as I take cautious steps towards my dog.

A crack zigzags in front of me, and the ice gives way. The shallow water bites up to my knees. Gasping against the icy pain, I push on, breaking the ice with clenched fists. The water crawls up to my thighs. Drowned branches and debris pull at my numbing feet. Myfanwy watches my slow progress with helpless eyes.

The water climbs to my crotch, knocking the air from my lungs as it reaches my sensitive bits. A few feet away from her, I stretch my arms across the ice, strain to reach the thick fur of her neck. It fills my gloved hand, and I pull.

Myfanwy yelps and claws at the ice.

One paw catches hold, and combined with my pulling; she slides out of the water. She crouches on the ice, instinctively spreading her weight on her four paws.

She scrambles to the bank and shakes off most of the water. Now that she's safe, she paces the bank of the pond, barks anxiously, spurring me on. Numbness settles into my bones, making my return to the bank heavy and slow.

A submerged branch catches my running boot, tripping me. Icy water clenches around my belly, but I catch myself on the edge of the ice before sinking lower. Freeing my boot from the branch, I lunge for the bank, pushing hard with my other leg.

A hidden scrap of metal slices my foot, the sudden warmth of blood burning against the cold water. Ignoring the pain, I push again for the bank. I land face down in the dirt and snow, then belly-crawl out of the water.

Myfanwy pushes her nose against my face, urging me on with his warm breath. My vision fuzzes, and I shiver in the wind. Using my unhurt foot, I try to stand. My numb leg wobbles, crumples, and I land with a humph.

The cold seeps from my soaked legs up to my chest. It slithers under my coat and wraps icy fingers around my lungs. I will my legs to move, too cold to obey, my muscles only twitch. With my gloved hands, I pull myself through the dirt like an animal.

Fallen branches reach out from the snow to scratch my face. Myfanwy whines and shoves me with her nose, urging. Shadows dance around her pretty face, as the sun sinks low in the sky behind her. Time seems to lag.

I manage to drag myself a little farther, and then lie panting against the dirt. The cold seeps from my chest into my shoulders. Myfanwy whines against my cheek. I can barely see her blue eyes in the falling darkness.

"I just need to rest," I tell my dog. "Give me a minute."

Music sings softly from my earbuds dragging along beside me. "Dust in the Wind" carries along with the snow on the breeze. As I have every day for two years, I fight the battle to survive. I don't give in. I don't give up. The cold strikes back, a valiant competitor.

My dog drags me as I crawl now, so tired. So damned tired. Then I feel the bite of gravel under my knees and hands, a driveway? A salted driveway? Looking up, I see steps. Pumpkin heads and candles flickering from the weird carvings… a black cat regards me silently, and then rises to stalk off like it had been expecting me. This is so weird. What the hell … this is not my cabin. Why did she bring me here?

I drag myself up the three steps to the wrap-around covered porch on the cabin. The wood steps creak under my heavy steps.

Myfanwy zooms past me, wasting no time going to bark at the door, scratching at it as she demands to be let in. I can practically smell the warmth of the cabin. Pale firelight pours out of the windows flanking each side of the door. The wind funnels through the porch, stings my chilled cheeks.

The sudden blast of cold spurs me to cross the last few agonizing steps. Leaning heavily on the door, I fumble to turn the handle with my freezing fingers. I finally manage to turn the knob and collapse through the door.

I land hard on the polished wood floor and try not to think about the bruises I've collected from my many falls tonight. The wind from the porch blows through the open door, makes the fire roar to life in the open fireplace, and a few sparks dance up the chimney. I find myself giggling insanely as he stutter "trick or treat, I hurt my feet."

Already curled on a sofa by the fire, Myfanwy contentedly licks the melting ice and snow from her fur. She looks up with a 'you're letting the cold' in expression. The place smells of pumpkin pie and cinnamon.

I just close my eyes for a second.

.

.

The water steams invitingly as it fills the tub. Sitting on the toilet lid, I feel someone untie my running boots. The sole of the one flops open at the cut, ruined. I grab it up and inspect it with a weird fumbling of my numb hands then I toss my favorite boots against the wall in anger, thinking of all the snowy miles it took to break them in. They'll need to be replaced now, and fast.

He peels my soaked socks off and add them to the pile against the wall. The sock is ruined too, cut through and stained with blood. I don't look at my foot, unwilling to see my skin opened by the sharp metal I stepped on.

He makes a sound in his throat like he feels my pain and then soft hands poke at it. Fuck. Then… then the pain is gone and I look done to see the medical kit at his side. Whatever he just gave me… it's taken the edge off alright.

When the pile includes my soaked pants and my mostly dry sweater, he turns off the water in the tub. The silence in the small bathroom nearly deafening after the roar of the running water. Steam obscures the tiny mirror above the sink.

"That was close," I whisper to myself.

Hands slide under my arms to lift me from the toilet seat and I clumsily climb into the tub. The heat of the water like fire against my still cold skin. I welcome the burn, and slide into the water, tipping my head back on the edge of the tub.

My injured foot stings. I raise it from the water, and fresh blood dribbles down my leg. Just a little blood, nothing serious, but it's enough. I feel him touch my foot again and a slight tugging. Huh. Stitches. This man is a jack of all trades.

Soon it seemed to seep into my brain.. like the heat of the bath water… I am naked.

I open my eyes and see him bending over me to turn on the hot again, renewing my slice of heaven and I find myself croaking out a thanks.

"No problem" he replies gently, then adds "What's your dog called?"

"Myfanwy. She's not allowed on the furniture" I mumble, then sigh "hi. I'm…."

"Oh I know who you are. Saw the wallet and the badge. I was warned about you ya know, might have been best forearmed that you have a weapon like that. I remember her now… you got her from the local pound."

"The vet called her that before I got her so I didn't change it. Too had to think of something else as cute" He's cute too. Did I say that out loud? His smile tells me that I may have.

"Don't go to sleep. I will get her off my sofa and on some old quilts then come back to help you get out. Oh. By the way… I'm Ianto. The vet who named her. She must have recognized my scent from the running track."

Ianto.

I like that name. I drift in the tub some more, not the least put out as he glances down at me once more, his eyes roaming to the .. ah… nether regions.

Ha.

Half dead and Jackie Boy's still got it… and I gotta tell ya that pond water had been bloody cold.

Trick or treat? Why not both.