Zeno. Seneca. Marcus Aurelius. Ianto Jones.

Ianto had often been described as a real stoic. It wasn't strictly true, but he never argued the point. Of course, Ianto felt things as anyone else would – sadness, excitement, fear – but he prided himself on not making an exhibition of how he felt. It was no one else's problem, after all, and Ianto could deal with things for himself. Except….

The coffee was extra strong that morning, Jack thought. Whenever Ianto had the coffee made before Jack was up and about, he always left Jack's mug on his desk, wrapped in a kitchen towel, with a piece of cling film over the top. Jack didn't see or hear Ianto around, so headed down to the archives.

The first thing Jack heard was a loud, kinda dramatic sigh. No… not a sigh. More like a labored breath. Then a sniff. Ok, not good, Jack thought.

"Morning," Jack called out before he got to the entrance of the archives. If Ianto was upset about something, he'd want a second to compose himself. Jack knew that.

"Hello," Ianto responded, rather dully.

When Jack stepped around the corner, Ianto looked up at him with red-rimmed, puffy eyes, and one of the most miserable expressions Jack could recall. He wondered if he should have given Ianto a little longer to "compose." Like half an hour, maybe.

"I'd feel pretty stupid asking 'are you ok?' right about now," Jack said honestly.

"I'll be fine," Ianto said, sounding anything but.

"No doubt you will. But 'will be' and 'are now' are kinda different. You know you don't have to talk about it… but, you also know you can."

"Talk about it?" Ianto asked, sounding confused.

"Yeah," Jack said. "Not pushing. Just offering."

"Why would I want to talk about it?"

Jack shrugged.

Ianto sighed, an actual sigh that time. "I suppose you should know," he said. "I've had a dose of Triludan already this morning. I'll let Owen know whenever he turns up. So, it'll be a couple days, but given sufficient quantities of coffee, I'll be fine."

"You've had what?" Jack asked, sounding a little alarmed.

"Triludan. 60 milligrams. An hour and… 13 minutes ago."

"What's that do?"

"Stops me wanting to shoot myself. Mostly," Ianto muttered.

"Ianto…?"

"Hay fever, Jack. It's sodding hay fever," Ianto snapped. "I'm fine. No alien illnesses here, Jack. Just please leave me down here to die and table any unnecessary communications, yes?"

Jack rolled his eyes. He's always known that somewhere beneath that calm exterior – Ianto couldn't even have a go at someone without being completely collected about it - was a bit of a drama queen. "Home, Ianto," Jack said patiently.

"Nope. Fine here."

"You're not. You're miserable. I can tell. Go home, take a couple days off."

Ianto shuddered and shook his head at the thought of what he'd come back to. Wasn't worth it.

"Go home. Take a hot shower. Use that minty shampoo, and your eucalyptus shower gel. That'll help. Then dry off, put on your jim-jams – I'm thinking the red ones with the teddy bears on – go to the kitchen and take the vodka out of the freezer. Pour yourself two fingers and throw that back in one. Then crawl into bed and stay there until I say otherwise."

"Jack…. It's not even past 6 in the morning and you're suggesting I pound shots?"

"I'll let you drive." Where temptation failed, bribery could surely succeed.

Ianto stopped and gave Jack a long look. "When?"

"As soon as you're feeling better. A solid week." Jack held up his right hand. "My word."

Ianto considered the offer for a few moments before closing the folder in front of him, standing up and stepping away from his desk. Then he stopped again and turned to Jack.

"Oh… and if anyone else around here ever learns about the teddy bear jim-jams, I'll find a way to see that your next resuscitation occurs while handcuffed, naked, in the middle of the Plass."