Do not stand at my grave and weep (слэш)

Another painful breath, but it’s getting easier now, his body carefully adjusting to what should be natural, and Ianto can make out shapes around him in the shadows. Small, swift shapes darting through the air. Larger, gangly shapes leaning out of the tree branches or looming over him. Ianto wants to ask who they are, what they are, but his body is still too weak.