Don't worry about it, John says, but Ianto doesn't know if he could stop worrying even if he wanted to. Worrying about the look on John's face, worrying about the state of John's arm, worrying about -- the state of things between them, if he's being completely honest with himself. He realizes that one moment between them in the forest isn't going to solve everything, but he hopes that it was a start, and not just. A moment of weakness on both their parts. He would give anything for it to be a start towards making amends, at any rate.

Dipping the cloth back in the bowl of water as he applies it to John's arm, he's trying to be as gentle as he can, but it hurts just to look at the wound, never mind the fact that he's touching it. He's saving the worst of it for when he knows the drugs are working, but he'd like to hope that they do soon. For both their sakes.

He's quiet for a long few moments as he works, but in the end the silence gets to him. It's uncomfortable, where once a silence between them would have been anything but.

"I'm sorry," he says, quietly. "This my fault."