"Yes I can," John says, and he means it. "That's my job. It was my job to keep this from happening."

He didn't, and now here they are. Rubbing at his face John tries to take a steadying breath, to count backwards, to try and think what Heightmeyer would say to him. Then it occurs to him with a jolt that Heightmeyer is dead because of him, too. Momentarily queasy, he moves toward one of the large tree trunks and leans a hand on it -- tries to rein himself back in bit by it.

"You weren't weighing me down," he adds finally, because sure -- maybe Ianto could do with a little more combat training but he was at least helping. He was stunning people. He wasn't just sitting there cowering while John worked around him. That all counts for something.