Ianto misses pizza. He misses steak. He misses Chinese food, cheese pasties, chocolate hob nobs and chips.
Actually, the local cuisine that the nurses serve him isn't bad at all. It's just that every time he pulls back the cover to his dish, he never really knows what he's getting. He was served fish one day, and it was slightly lavender in color and accompanied by a tangy blue sauce that tasted orange-ish. The side dish consisted of vegetables that looked familiar, but had flavors that were different than he remembered. Only the rice was like regular rice, but it was brown. He prefers white.
In his rational mind, he knows that he shouldn't complain. The fish was cooked to perfection, and the meal as a whole was vastly healthier than what he normally stuffed in his face back in Cardiff. However, what he wouldn't give for a piece of cod, dipped in batter and deep-fried.
Yet, one of the few things that hadn't changed, even after a millennium, is coffee. It's true that he's read about and even seen some odd variations on the cappuccino or a Turkish coffee, and he's seen it dressed up like a cheap whore in a variety of ridiculous flavors. That's to be expected. After all, in his century, he's witnessed the horrors of adding raspberry syrup to a perfectly respectable cup (or worse still, flavored coffee beans). But the people of Palenque, for the most part, serve it black, no sugar -- the way nature had intended. Why mess with perfection?
Eventually, Ianto is allowed to have a cup of coffee from one of the local farms as a reward after an uncomfortable nerve conduction test. It's full bodied and smooth with a sweet and slightly nutty flavor, which reminds him of sitting on the hub couch with Gwen and Tosh and taking magazine quizzes and laughing at the results while Owen made lewd remarks from his station.
Right there in the employee lounge on the 52nd floor of the Caput-sihil Corporation building, he begins to cry before he's halfway through with the cup.
Not knowing what to do, Jack says, "Let me take that from you."
"Don't you dare," Ianto replies.
Jack sits at the table with both elbows on the table and his chin resting on his knuckles. He watches Ianto nervously.
"I didn't mean to snap at you," Ianto says to the older man.
"Don't. This can't be easy for you."
A middle-aged woman dressed in some sort of military uniform walks up to the table. She clears her throat and says, "Captain Harkness? It's almost time."
"Time for?" Ianto asks
"Mona has asked me to lead a few training exercises for her security team," Jack explains. "And well, the money's good."
Ianto attempts to smile and says, "That's brilliant. Go ahead." There's a prickling sensation in his throat.
"Are you sure?"
"I don't expect you to sit around a knit me a sweater, and I'll be fine," he says. Yet, his heart beats just a little faster, and the aches are a bit more noticeable at the thought of being alone. He also feels a little too warm.
"And Mr. Jones," the soldier says, "Ms. Cavendish sends her regards."
"Tell her thank you," Ianto replies.
Jack stands up and follows the soldier to the door, but before leaving, he returns to Ianto. He lifts the young man's chin for a kiss.
Ianto pulls away and says, "Good-bye, dear. Have a good day at work. Now, we really are a couple."
"Is that a problem?"
"It's just new."
Jack musses the young man's hair before he leaves with the soldier.
Rather than sit alone in the lounge, Ianto goes back to his room and opens up the laptop Jack gave him.
Although it was initially intimidating, the computer is easy to use, or perhaps it just seems that way after dealing the hub's system -- not that he's doing anything incredibly complicated with it. When he thinks about it, a six-year-old would be more proficient with this thing.
Most of the time he reads the local newspaper to learn about Palenque and its culture, although he must keep a dictionary and encyclopedia app running in order to understand the articles. A lot of articles deal with an upcoming election in which both politicians make promises about a better future for the people or news from the war in a frontier colony. Buried under all of that news -- even under the entertainment section -- are the stories about people protesting against genetic discrimination and for the right to genetic privacy.
While he takes great interest in those subjects, on this day, he types Gwen's name into an ancestry search, but he stops himself before going any further. He's done this several times before, but always stops himself. If he went any further, it would be like deciding he'll never see her again. He couldn't look at her knowing all the spoilers.
On a whim, he types his name instead; however, all of his information has been blocked -- like he's some sort of dirty secret. He tries a few of his best hacker tricks, but, alas, his skills are sorely out of date.
Outside, it's raining. The windows in his room are sealed so tight that if there's thunder, he can't hear it.
Ianto holds the cup of coffee between his hands and sips.
~~o0o~~
The next time Ianto sees Jack that day, both men are weary. Ianto's had another series of inoculations, one of which has resulted in flu-like symptoms -- Chi'ich flu 853, to give it name. Predictably, Ortega has told him that everything is perfectly normal and as it should be, never mind the coughing and the runny nose.
While there's nothing physically wrong with him, Jack stares out the window in a pensive trance.
Ianto grabs a handful of tissues and hobbles next to him. Aside from the pain that has now become normal, his body feels a little stiff from whatever he's contracted.
"You should use your cane," Jack comments.
"It's not that bad," he says. "I believe I've developed a high threshold for pain in the past couple of weeks."
"No, I think you've always had that."
Jack tries to take Ianto's hand, but the young man pulls it away saying, "Don't. I'm sticky and disgusting."
"Okay, I won't," Jack replies as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. Ianto notices that he isn't watching over the city; Jack's gaze is directed at the mountains.
"Tell me about your day," Ianto says.
Jack doesn't answer. He crosses his arms, and his eyes turn to the skies, which are filled with turbulent clouds. After a minute or so of silence, Ianto shakes his head and sits on the bed. He blows his nose and tosses the used tissue into the bin.
"They're so young," Jack says.
At first, Ianto isn't really sure if Jack had indeed said something, but he asks anyway, "Who?"
"The soldiers I worked with today. And they're cocky. Christ, are they cocky. They think that with the sort of kit that the medics have around here, they are safe as houses, but they can't always get to the medics in time. They don't see the soldiers who do survive but are left with their injuries and their pain. It's true that Ortega is developing better ways to treat those things --"
"As a product of her handiwork I can attest to that," Ianto interjects.
"You are walking again," Jack mutters.
"Didn't mean for it sound like a complaint," Ianto says, rubbing his thigh.
"As I was saying, there are a lot of treatments that have done away with a lot of suffering, but that's not an excuse for them to be so reckless."
"What exactly are the biggest threats?"
"People looking for drugs mainly," Jack replies. "Most of the time, the warehouses are hit by desperate people who are in over their heads, but no matter how stiff the penalty, they keep coming back. Every know and then, they get hit by people -- human or alien -- who know what they are doing and can do a lot of damage."
"And soldiers get killed."
"Yeah." Jack takes a deep breath and rests his forehead on the glass. "It's not just the warehouses, it's the fleet as well. A couple of months ago, a starship carrying a shipment of medical supplies to another colony was hijacked. The entire crew was killed, and their bodies were stuffed into an escape pod that was sent to the airfield as a warning."
"Jesus."
"Humanity is spreading across the universe, but you can't expect them to be greeted by the welcome wagon everywhere," Jack replies. "And I have to prepare those precocious young things to face that sort of danger."
"You've done it before in the RAF, Torchwood."
"Yeah, and look where it got you and Suzie, Tosh, Owen."
"We signed up for it. I stalked you for that job as you'll recall," Ianto says.
"If it hadn't been for that damned leather bird…"
"You wouldn't have gotten a piece of this fresh ass… or, more accurately, a piece of the not-so-fresh ass in cold storage. Wow. Technically, I'm a virgin."
"Do you always have to make jokes?"
"I'm coping," Ianto replies. "But in all seriousness, if it hadn't been for Myfanwy, you and I would have never happened. If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have been able to let go of Lisa and find meaning once again."
"Don't say that…"
"You are an incredible captain, and I would have followed you anywhere."
Jack slowly turns around. He cannot make eye contact with Ianto. He's fragile -- just like when Tosh and Owen died, only somehow worse.
Jack asks, "Have you eaten?"
"I can call the babysitter and ask for soup," Ianto replies.
"I'll get it."
"You know you can talk to me, Jack…" There are moments when Ianto looks into Jack's eyes, and they reveal the older man's true age. This is one of those moments. Ianto adds, "When you're ready."
Jack points towards the door. "The soup."
"No," Ianto says. He coughs a couple of times and blows his nose. "If you don't mind me being disgusting, come sit with me."
"I don't mind," Jack replies.
"Call the nurse, and order me the closest thing to chicken soup they have."
"Okay," Jack whispers.
"And when you're done, let's plan that holiday you keep threatening to take me on. We both need something to look forward to, right?"
Ianto can see a glimmer of excitement in Jack's eyes, and it makes his own pain that much more bearable.