In the Welsh countryside about an hour's drive from Cardiff, down a narrow country lane, there stood a typical rural cottage. It had been on the market about a year before, and had been bought by a private company. Locals had seen much comings and goings of workmen doing renovations, though mostly interior work they assumed, as the exterior remained much the same, barring a sophisticated security system that included external sensors. The locals waited for someone to move in, but apart from occasional visitors who seemed to be different each time and only stayed for a day or two, no one did. It was assumed the cottage was serving as a corporate retreat for the company that had purchased it.

Mid November. Temperatures were dropping, and most mornings were accompanied by frost. On this particular morning an icy downpour drummed at the roof and windows of the cottage. Inside, however, due to expensive insulation the noise was minimal. A gas fire warmed a comfortable living room, and the occupants of the two armchairs that were arranged in front of it. Jack sat in one, seemingly relaxed, but his eyes never left the other chair.

Ianto occupied the second chair, in dressing gown and pyjamas covered in a blanket. His sunken eyes stared at nothing in particular, and his thin scarred hands lay limply in his lap. Jack watched him, considering. In the nine days since their arrival, Ianto hadn't spoken. He had submitted to the medical treatment provided and to Jack's care, except in one regard. He would not accept affection, shied away if Jack got too close. Jack couldn't help but feel daunted by the damage he was seeing, but knew he could not give up.

So, trying not to hope too much, he asked the same question he had asked every day since their arrival, every morning after breakfast. "How are you feeling today?"

He had become so accustomed to no answer that he almost missed it when it came, as it was the barest whisper. "Confused."

Jack started, curbing his delight with an effort. Calm, stay calm, he told himself, just as if we'd been talking all along. "What are you confused about?"

Ianto still hadn't looked at him. "Why … are you doing this?"

Jack considered the various possible answers to that question, and finally said, "Because I want you to be well."

"You should hate me."

Jack had known this reaction was a possibility, and after a few moments hesitation decided to challenge it. "Why would I hate you?"

"I betrayed you."

"Oh? How'd you do that?" That's it, Jack thought suddenly, as Ianto looked at him for the first time. Get angry.

"You want me to spell it out?" Ianto snarled. "Is that what you've been waiting for? You want me to hear my own voice say it?" He threw the blanket aside and got up from the chair. "I poisoned you, Jack! I made you sick. I made you suffer. You'd still be sick if it weren't for the Doctor. It's my fault, all of it!" He screamed in Jack's face. "I betrayed you!"

All Jack wanted to do was put his arms around him, but he forced himself to stay still. "That's him talking," he said. "Not you."

Ianto shook his head, and fiercely wiped away tears. "Is this your idea of tormenting me, is that it? Make me confess? Well, I've confessed. What next? You want to hurt me? Punch me? Kick me? Beat me?"

He paused, breathing hard, and then to Jack's horror suddenly knelt down on the floor, bowing low to the ground. Jack wasn't sure later whether it was the act itself that had upset him or the familiarity of long practice with which Ianto performed the move. "Go ahead!" he whispered bitterly, his voice full of self-disgust. "I deserve it."

Jack got up and raised him from the floor, trying not to notice the way his friend flinched when he touched him, trying not to notice the feel of bones under skin. "For God's sake, Yan," he said gently, "I'm not going to hurt you." He led him carefully back over to his chair, and spread the blanket back over him, immediately withdrawing to his own chair to give him space. "Do you want me to tell you what really happened?"

Ianto pulled his feet up off the floor, curling into a ball and wrapping the blanket more tightly around him. "I know what happened."

"No you don't," Jack told him. "Yan .. he lied to you. Everything he said was a lie. I'm going to tell you what really happened, alright?"

Ianto shrugged, looking at the floor. Jack decided he would take this as an invitation to continue, and began.