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The evening of Ianto's first day back at work, hours after that brittle nod, he came to Jack's doorway.
Unready, Jack ignored him. His mouth tasted sour with tiredness, and he felt like the world was all fog; there was a heavy half-empty glass of whisky on his desk, beside an unfinished letter of confidence to an as-yet unknown forensics officer, explaining away the mangled body they would find on Monday of Annie Bennett, former Pizza Express employee.
Ianto moved wordlessly into the room and closed the door behind him. The click of the latch made Jack blink.
Jack focused on the abstract grooves in his glass until, in his peripheral awareness, he realised with a shock that Ianto had started undoing his tie.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Jack asked softly, without turning his head. "I've forgiven you - that doesn't mean I want to look at you."
There was a pause. Then Ianto's voice was equally soft: "Do you not want me now?"
Jack heard himself give an abrupt, involuntarily laugh, and rounded on Ianto, unwittingly taking in his pale face and shadowed eyes. His voice came out louder than he expected: "Did you ever want me? Jesus Christ, Ianto--"
"That's not--" Ianto interrupted, moving towards the desk, imploring. He lowered his voice. "I was there willingly, every time--"
Jack's face heated with fury. "Were you?" he demanded. "Is that what you think? Or were you there because you'd decided suffering like that was your absolution from violating me?"
"I--"
"My trust," Jack yelled, slapping his palm hard on the desk. His voice rasped in his throat, broken.
"No," Ianto said, shaking his head now, one hand lifting in an immediately-aborted movement towards Jack's arm. "No, that's not--"
"That's enough," Jack said quietly, turning back to his desk. "I don't want to watch you lie to my face any more," he told his whisky glass.
And he thought Ianto would leave at that, hoped he would, for both their sakes; and then Ianto was saying, "You made me feel good," his voice so raw that Jack flinched and looked back at him.
Ianto took a deep breath. His hands were in fists, his tie was hanging loose; he looked like Jack had dragged him in here by the scruff of his neck. "And if you really want to punish me," Ianto said quietly, reading God knows what in Jack's face, "make me feel that good again."