7
Ianto is walking with purpose, carrying a bundle of letters. The exercise is lifting his spirits. The sun is sinking, turning the frost gold.
A brook runs close to the path; half frozen. Its slow trickle is the only sound to be heard. Ianto moves slowly, acutely aware of everything around him.
Further into the wood, the brook has frozen right across the path. Ianto slips on it as he passes. The noise of his feet echoes. he steadies himself.
He gazes at a huddle of snowdrops, their heads bowed. A crystal drop of water runs to the end of a snowdrop and begins to freeze as he watches. It is held suspended as if the whole winter is contained in it.
The moon is mounting the sky. Ianto hears a sound like the beating of wings. The blood is rushing through his ears.
His trance is broken by the figure of a great dog – which glides past him so close it almost knocks him off his feet. The beating is loud; not wings she realises, but the rush of an approaching horse. It is almost on top of him before he can move. His shocked, pale face, his black garments startle both horse and rider.
"What the fuck…"
The rider gets the horse under control and continues, only to have his horse slip on the ice. Both man and horse fall with a crash. The dog begins to bark, until the hills echo with the sound. The horse is on one side; the man is lying, trapped beneath it on the ice; Jack Harkness.
"Hellfire."
Ianto is confounded.
"Pilot, get down! GET DOWN I SAY!"
"Can I do anything, sir?" Ianto finally finds his voice.
Jack stares at him; a tiny black figure, surrounded by darkening frost, the low moon behind him.
"Get back."
Ianto doesn't move. Jack turns to his horse. With much stamping and clattering, the horse clambers to its feet. Jack seems relieved.
He tries to stand himself. His ankle will bear no weight. He lets out an involuntary cry. It echoes "Damnation."
"Are you injured, sir?"
Jack looks at him once more. He manages to get himself off the ice. He sits on a nearby stile. Ianto approaches him. He now has the moon on his face. He begins to look less like a phantom and more like a boy … a pretty one.
"If you are hurt and want help I can fetch someone from the village. I'm on my way there to post a letter."
Jack looks as if he doesn't believe him "Where do you come from?"
"Torchwood Hall."
"Whose house is that?"
"Mr Jack Harkness'."
"Do you know Mr Jack?" he asks Ianto.
"No, I've never seen him."
Jack is trying to place him. he is a puzzle to him. "You're not a servant there..."
"I am the Handler, sir."
"The Handler." A slow smile as Jack snorts.
"Gods take me, I had forgotten." Examining Ianto once more, he laughs a low laugh. "The Handler."
Ianto does not like to be laughed at.
"Have you got an umbrella I can use as a stick?" the rider asks as he limps slowly towards Ianto.
"No."
"Then try to get hold of his bridle and lead him to me."
Ianto doesn't like his imperious tone. He looks at the horse; huge, trampling, nervous. Jack is amused. "If you would be so kind..."
Ianto obeys. He endeavours to catch the bridle but the horse rears away. Ianto falls on the ice. Jack bursts out laughing. Ianto picks himself up.
"Perhaps it would be easier to bring me to the horse." Jack laughs "Come here."
Ianto resists.
Jack's smile fades as he sees fear and he asks in a softer tone "Forgive me. I must beg of you to come here."
Ianto approaches. Jack instantly leans all his weight on him. He almost crumples under it; the first time he has ever touched and been touched by another man. He holds him up. And walks him closer to his horse.
"Janet." The horse approaches him. Jack calms it. He springs into the saddle, grimacing as he wrenches his sprain. "Thank you. (He bows.) Now, make haste with your letter."
Jack's spurred heel makes the horse start and rear. Ianto steps back. The horse bounds away, the dog rushing in its traces. All three disappear.
Ianto doesn't move until the sound of hooves has faded away. His face is flushed, his eyes glitter in the dark.
.
.
Ianto runs up to the front door. He pushes it open. To his amazement, there is a fire burning in the stone fireplace. The whole hall is lit. The double doors are open into the library. Mrs Harkness is hurriedly approaching. "Mr Jack is here."
"Oh?"
"Go and change your suit; he wishes to meet you."
"I have to change?" Ianto looks donw at his plain black suit with surprise.
"Oh yes - I always dress for the evening when Mr Jack is here".
"But all my suits are the same."
"You must have one that is better? He's in a terrible humour; the doctor has been. His horse fell in Hay lane and his ankle is sprained." She gasps with horror.
Mrs Harkness anxiously hurries back into the library. A large dog wanders out. Ianto finds himself looking at Pilot.
He smiles.
Ianto enters. Jack is in front of a superb fire – one foot bandaged and supported on a stool. Pilot is at his feet - and so is Toshiko, gazing adoringly at him.
Jack is looking through Ianto's portfolio of sketches and watercolours. Ianto feels utterly exposed - as if his diary is being read. Mrs Harkness timidly interrupts. "Here is Mister Jones, Sir."
Without looking up Jack mutters "Let him sit."
Ianto sits. Jack continues to study his work.
"I have examined Toshiko and I find you've taken great pains with her. She's not bright, she has no talents - yet in a short time she's made much improvement."
Toshiko is gazing at him uncomprehending, her face radiant. Ianto feels a bristling as he struggles not to defend the child who is bright as a button actually "Thank you."
"You've been resident here three months?"
"Yes, sir."
"And from whence do you hail; what's your tale of woe?"
"Pardon?" Ianto blinks with confusion.
"All Handlers have a tale of woe; what's yours?" Jack continues to flip pages like discussing the weather. Ianto is now getting slightly insulted.
"I was brought up by my Aunt, Mrs Reid of Gateshead, in a house far finer than this. At ten years old I went to Torchwood One school where I received as good an education as I could hope for." He bristled politely "I have no tale of woe, sir."
"Where are your parents?"
"Dead."
"Do you remember them?" he finally looks up.
"No."
"And why are you not with Mrs Reid of Gateshead now?" he frowns, showing that he smells a rat somewhere.
"She cast me off, sir." Ianto sees no need to lie.
"Why?"
"Because I was burdensome and she disliked me." Ianto shrugs, not caring if this one feels the same.
"Torchwood One; that's one of our charity schools, isn't it?" Jack looks aghast, his own views on the 'family business'known as he openly despised the lack of funding for those children.
"Yes."
"How long did you survive there?"
"Eight years." Ianto didn't flinch under the stare.
"No tale of woe..." Jack snorts, throwing the pad on the table like it is nothing, annoying Ianto more.
"I daily thank providence for sending us Mister Jones. he's a kind and patient teacher and an invaluable companion …" Alice rushes to defend her only real friend here.
"Don't trouble yourself to give him a character. I'll judge for myself. He began by felling my horse."
"Sir?"
"I have him to thank for this sprain." Jack huffs.
Mrs Harkness looks at Ianto, bewildered. Jack lifts one of his watercolours. "Toshiko has brought me these; are they yours?"
"Yes sir".
A swollen sea. A cormorant, a golden bracelet held in its beak. A girl's arm coming out of the water, white and deathly, her drowned figure underneath.
"Where did you get your copies?"
"Out of my head."
"That head I now see on your shoulders?" Jack seems amused as Ianto's bland face becomes even more droll.
"Yes sir."
He turns the next. The top of a hill. An expanse of twilight sky. Rising up, a girl's shape, her forehead crowned with a star, red hair flowing; Kai Burns. "Who's this?"
"The evening star."
Jack gives him a direct gaze. "Why did you bewitch my horse?"
Ianto cannot reply.
.
.
.
.
Ianto is by the blackboard, where he is writing sums.
"Tonight I will have my cadeau." Toshiko says, practicing her English but unable to remember the correct word for gift "He always bring me a cadeau."
Mrs Harkness breathlessly enters. "Sorry to disturb. He's asked for your art."
Ianto looks at her in disbelief. "What for?"
"He wishes to have it." She repeats like Ianto is simple.
"Why?" Ianto has placed the chalk down and is looking at her, then the desk.
"To show to his company, I should think. Is this it here? Thank you."
Ianto watches helplessly as Mrs Harkness takes his portfolio.
.
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.
Ianto is crossing the landing holding Toshiko's hand.
Downstairs, the library doors swing wide open. The sound of male laughter can be heard; gentlemen walk out into the hall. Jack follows, walking with a stick.
"Monsieur!" Toshiko says with glee.
All eyes turn upon the landing. Ianto tries to find a shadow to back into but there are none. Toshiko curtsies.
"Ah, there we are..." Jack says grandly and it is unclear whether he is referring to Toshiko or Ianto. He makes a bow. The men are staring at Ianto with great curiosity. It makes him uncomfortable.
He tugs Toshiko away.