Ianto nearly winced when Jack repeated those damning words, but he was calming down as if waking from a nightmare, and the superstition of them was fading. Still, there was a niggling voice in the back of Ianto's head whispering about parallel universes and other worlds that he was studiously ignoring. It was just a vision. Just a bad dream, nothing more.

"Right," he agreed, composing himself and letting Jack help him to his feet. He looked around dubiously at the shards littering the floor and their bare feet, but with some careful maneuvering and Jack sweeping aside some of the worst of it (Ianto protested, Jack didn't listen), they somehow made it out of the bathroom with Ianto's feet glass-free. Jack had caught a few slivers with his minor heroics, but the damage was minimal at worst and already healed by the time they sat down on the rumpled bed.

"I have no idea what it was," Ianto admitted, his voice now free of the tremor that had troubled it in his shock. "I went in to wash my face. I looked up, and there she was. Like looking through a window." A beat. "Bloody good thing we weren't overly fond of that mirror," he muttered sourly.