It's a moment of affection, but Ianto can almost feel the regret on Jack's lips as they brush across his clammy skin. He can't categorize it either, but that's the state of their relationship on most days, so he's not disappointed. He's adjusting, like everything else.

He's trying to separate himself from the bad memories and the good ones. It's harder than it would have been had he and Jack done this when Ianto first arrived, before he'd actually killed someone. Now half the memories are real, not the ones that make him a killer, but he has killed, and that makes this all the more painful. He can't exorcise those memories, and he'll never truly be able to forget... he's not going to be able to forgive himself either. It's a moot point.

His head aches, and then there's a sharp, stabbing pain, and the memories are fighting back, grasping for purchase. He clutches Jack's arm with his hand, nails digging into the soft flesh beneath familiar cotton. He hears his own gasp of breath, and he sounds like a drowning man, but it's almost as though he can hear in from beneath the water.

It's confusing and terrifying, but exhilarating, all combined together and his brain is trying to process what's going on.

Another gasp, more pained, but he can almost feel the memories receding back, hiding in the darkest shadows of his brain. They'll never really be gone, but they're losing control and he's gaining it back.

It isn't until he takes another breath and feels the tiniest bit of blood bubble up to his lips that he realizes he was screaming.