Catherine

It was when the whale pod wafted the smell of coffee into the ship's airlock – as only a pod of hyper-intelligent space whales could do – and Zabbio let it into the control room that Jix became Jack and stayed that way.

The whales also taught Jack how to synthesise a better version of coffee, but he still resented the hell out of Zabbio as it consumed the rest of Yen-todge Owns' BitterBlack. The miniature grenade launcher that Zabbio was training on him to protect its treasure didn't help his mood any. Slow-insertion diamond shard grenades were an excruciating way to die.

And then he looked out the window and saw the gorgeous effects of the Lower Galactic Current, and everything but finding Ianto went out of his mind. Ianto's love of acquiring experiences and knowledge crashed through his brain, filling him with memory and feeling. All he could see was Ianto's face boggling at the sight of red-shifting clouds of plasma and space dust. If they passed close enough to a nova, he could point out trails of gold in the stardust. Assuming, of course, that the sensors and enhancements were working properly. Even Ianto knew that getting that close to a nova was a terrible idea. Jack didn't want to see Ianto die again.

Neither did the whales, apparently. They were quite fond of him, and not because of his coffee – although the one who'd first recognised his name had become quite the addict. (Jack didn't ask how.) The child who had died in the warehouse back in Cardiff all those centuries ago had felt to them her gratitude for Torchwood's help in her last, agonising moments. They regretted that only Jack and Ianto were available to thank.

The coffee scent was as close to exactly right as Jack could ask, and was different enough from the smell that Ianto exuded back at Torchwood that he could be sure that the whales were giving him the true representation of the famed coffee god on Solaxis. He would have felt better, though, if the whales had actually laid eyes on this Yen-todge guy. The image they could have communicated to him would have eliminated uncertainty. Except, of course, it wouldn't have. There were so many possible ways to fake an identity that Jack had to close his eyes and re-focus his mind on solving a mystery, rather than on rescuing a lover.

He smiled at Zabbio as it consumed the very last drop of ecstasy from its preservation vessel. At least a good cup of coffee would be waiting for him on Solaxis, and he wouldn't let Zabbio have a single drop.

Zabbio held Jack's gaze in a mutual gloat.

*****

Gills sniffed suspiciously at the gourd of hot, black liquid Ianto offered him.

"Popular Earth drink. I, um, had a bit of a reputation for making it well."

Gills took a sip and instantly spat it out. "Bitter!"

"Ah, yes. You might want to try sweetening it a bit? I noticed you like the sweet bit of the berry...."

"Ah!" Gills went to a nook in the alcove and pulled out a vial of opalescent liquid. He stroked it fondly. "This. This was my toy!"

"And I just got a tie."

Gills cocked his head.

"Never mind."

Gills started to twist the top of the vial and then stopped. He eyed Ianto. "I do not want to waste this. It is very precious."

"You sound like Gollum," muttered Ianto.

Gills gave Ianto a suspicious look.

"Very interesting character in a movie. One of my favourites." Ianto smiled and nodded at the gourd. "I don't know what that is, or how it will interact with the coffee, but if the smell of the coffee goes well with the taste of that liquid, it might be worth risking a drop."

"This is worth five thousand credits a drop."

Ianto decided to hold Gills' gaze, rather than trying to persuade him. Easy to do, when he was gagging for another cup, himself.

Gills gazed at him for a long time, unblinking. And then he nodded, slowly. "You are strong. That is worth the risk." He twisted the top of the vial about a millimetre to the right and let one pinhead drop escape into the gourd.

The coffee turned iridescent for about three seconds and then went dark again. To Ianto, for a mad minute, it looked pregnant.

Gills sniffed it again, raised the gourd at Ianto and took a sip.

His eyes went wide, his upper lip curled; he swallowed the first sip and then took another. And then he looked as though he was going to say something to Ianto, but changed his mind. He addressed the gourd again and didn't come up for air until he'd drained the last drop.

"Did you like it?"

Gills held out the empty gourd.

Ianto sighed and emptied the remains of the coffee from the bigger one into it. "Won't take long to brew some more," he said.

"You wish to escape," said Gills, about halfway through his second gourd of coffee.

"Don't you?" Ianto didn't take his eyes from the pot in which the next round was brewing.

"There is no shoal for me out there."

"There might be. I could teach you how to make this."

Gills looked at Ianto over a very slow sip. "What would you want in return?"

"Unlimited access to the tip, everything you know about this place and its owners, and half your toy."

Gills' crest rose.

"If I'm right about this," said Ianto, before Gills could speak, "we're going to make so much money that you could buy an ocean of that ... stuff."

"Perfect," said Gills.

"Glad to be of service," said Ianto, a little confused.

"The name of the 'stuff' is 'Perfect'."

"Oh. What does it taste like?" Ianto decanted the coffee carefully into the carafe gourd.

"Whatever one desires in the food it touches."

"Does it work on humans?" Ianto poured himself a gourd-cup of coffee.

Gills took in a deep breath – still an odd thing for Ianto to see done through the sides of one's face. "You may try."

Ianto held out his cup.

Gills allowed one tiny drop of 'Perfect' to fall into it. "You must wait until it turns black again."

"Why? What happens if I don't?"

Gills smiled at him. "You die."

Ianto made very sure to wait until all traces of colour left before sipping.

He sipped again, and a third time. "Doesn't taste any different."

"Perfect does nothing to a substance that is already exactly as one wishes it to be."

"Then I'll only need a quarter of what you have."

Gills cast an eye at him.

Ianto recalculated. They were very tiny drops, after all. "An eighth."

Gills finished his cup, rinsed it with water and held it out.

Ianto started to fill it with coffee.

Gills stopped him halfway up and began to drink. His face wrinkled and he paused. He inhaled and seemed to reset. Then he drank in earnest, draining the cup dry.

"I thought you hated it without Perfect."

Gills licked his lips and smiled. "I acquired the taste."

"How rare is Perfect?"

"I own half of the galaxy's supply of it."

"Do you have milk and sugar on Solaxis?"

Gills fell silent, half closing his eyes. He seemed to be straining at something, scales drawn tight over his face. Then his eyes popped open. "Ah! Yes, in raw form."

"That ... took a while."

Gills' lips curled, sourly. "Milk is a difficult concept."

"Ah. So where do they keep the cows?"

"She lives half a day from here."

"And the sugar?"

"The sugar mine is at the farthest edge of my demesne."

Ianto eyed the vast expanse of thorns. He stood up and still couldn't see the end of them. He'd need clothes or a way out to the path beyond the forcefield in order to get to the mine. Madly, he wondered if salt grew in canes in this place. "Don't suppose she lives with a sheep, does she?"

Gills frowned. "Ah, yes, you Welsh and your sheep. Legendary throughout the galaxy for—"

"Glad we're galactic legends for something," said Ianto, before he could think seriously about throttling Gills. "Rather it was Rugby." He looked around for something in which to carry roasted coffee beans. "I have to make some clothes before I can get to your sugar mine, so ... cow now?"

Gills snorted. "You cannot afford her."

"You make her sound like a sex worker," muttered Ianto, still looking around. "Do you have something to carry beans in? Like a pouch, or a small bag?"

*****

"When was the last time you checked your shield modulator?"

"I ... do not remember."

Jack squeezed himself out of the crawlspace. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me. You know you need to overhaul these things every twenty cycles, right?" He held up an exploded chunk of polycarb. "Otherwise they tend to die."

"The technoforms only say that to extort credits from cowards," said Zabbio in a sandy growl.

"Not about the OmniBlock5! I helped them write the specs!"

"You are their Unique Source?"

"Yeah." Jack tossed the ruined device to Zabbio and rose, dusting himself off. "And there isn't another one within a standard kiloparsec radius of our position. So what are we gonna do about them?" He pointed at the view screen.

"They are not a threat."

"That's a Sontaran annihilation fleet!"

"I can destroy them in battle." If Zabbio had saliva, it would be practically drooling.

Jack shook his head. "We're travelling with beings protected under Article 9 of The Shadow Proclamation. You can't even upset them!"

"We can leave them and kill the Sontarans. They do not pay well."

"We are not leaving the whales!" Jack folded his arms across his chest, feeling his face contort into shapes of frustration. "They're my only chance at getting to Iant—Yen-todge."

"He is important to you."

"Yes." Jack shook his head, as if he could make his brain fall out.

"Why?"

Jack took a deep breath and pushed it out. "Because he makes great cof—BitterBlack. The Sontarans are on course to go right through us."

"We must hide before their sensors discover this ship."

Jack opened his mouth to speak. And then he grinned and picked up the telepathy enhancer. "Crush, we need to hide from the Sontaran sensors. Can you help?"

The closest translation of the warm thud of response-feel from Jack's gigantic new friend was, "Sure thing, dude; hop in!" The map to the exact safest spot in Crush's mouth was promptly uploaded to Jack's brain. "Thank you, my friend," Jack thought back.

Without a word, Jack took over the helm and disengaged the navcomp.

Zabbio jumped as the ship lurched out of phase with the auto-grav. "Where are you taking my ship?"

"Into a safe place," Jack murmured, "and we need to be silent." He pointed at the fast-approaching fleet and then nodded towards the empty seat next to him. 'This is going to get rough,' he mouthed.

Zabbio sat and fastened the stealth-mode restraint system into place around its body.

Jack appraised the system – well-improvised – and Zabbio's skill – impressive – and gave an approving nod. He looked the question, 'Are you ready for this?'

Zabbio flicked its eyestalks in assent.

It took about five minutes – and Jack was a bit surprised that he was thinking in those time units – for him to guide the ship towards the place where Crush could suck it in like a piece of edible space flotsam.

Zabbio was a shade of magenta-infused purple that Jack couldn't describe.

"Are you going to puke?"

Zabbio just sat and undulated, its colour slowly returning to normal.

"Good."

"We are supposed to be silent," said Zabbio.

"Not when we're inside a space whale. They dampen all sensor technolo—Oh! Sure, just a minute...." Jack programmed the communications array. "Crush wants to say hi."

"Greetings! Lovely arc for a swim. Too bad about the angry froods."

"Frood?" said Zabbio.

"Slang," said Jack. "Just roll with it." He closed his eyes. "Hi, Crush, nice to hear you in the ears as well as the mind. I have a companion here from Vlakkis. Its designation is Zabbio."

"Greetings, frood! Delighted to house you in my mouth."

Zabbio's face turned slightly mauve. "It is an honour," it said, responding to Jack's glare.

"The zarking honour is mine."

"What is 'zarking'?" asked Zabbio.

"A sign that Crush, here, has spent some questionable time with Zaphod Beeblebrox. He doesn't belong here!"

"We sent him back to his own current after we absorbed his language and story," said Crush. "You have a shortened fin on the right side."

"Huh?" Jack buried his face in the ship's diagnostic portal.

"This ship does not have 'fins'," said Zabbio, bristling to a third again its size.

"Geez, Zabbio, don't you ever do a pre-flight check? Your starboard stabiliser's been sheared in half!"

"I forgot."

"You forgot? What happened?"

"My client failed to leave a sufficient number of credits on hir payment leaf."

"So you went after hir and ... what? Your busted-up navcomp made you run into hir transport? Oh, no, I forgot – you fly by the seat of your—"

"Frood Jack, please calm yourself. It is of no zarking matter."

"Sorry." Jack held his head against the psionic pressure for which Crush was named.

"It is of no matter. We offer you sanctuary whilst we hear your story. Tell us why you are travelling to Solaxis to see the righteous frood Ianto Jones."

Jack looked at Zabbio, who was fixing him with a gaze of entitled, lethal curiosity. Nothing he'd yet done had felt harder than this would, and he still didn't know quite why. He sighed, leaning back into the comforting weight of Crush's mind. "A very, very long time ago, Ianto Jones was someone I ... someone who ... someone I knew."

Zabbio looked at him.

"Very well," Jack added.

Zabbio cocked its head.

Something should be happening, Jack thought. Zabbio should be asking him some sort of earnest question.

Nothing.

"He was my lover."

Zabbio nodded and untied itself from the Captain's seat. "Unsurprising." It walked off in the direction of the starboard stabiliser.

Jack felt a sting through his heart that hadn't happened since the last time he'd seen Ianto – the real one.

"Tell us of him"

"He's—he was ... so afraid ... the last time I saw him. He thought—" Jack had to swallow the break in his voice. "He thought I'd forget him. As if I ever could. I told him I wouldn't. Told him I'd remember him. He didn't believe me. I remember all of them. All the ones I've loved. I work at it, goddammit!" He slammed his fist on the panel, too close to the controls, activating the alarm.

Zabbio emerged at speed from the access crawlspace near the stabiliser. "What is the emergency?

Jack deactivated the alarm. "Sorry! I, uh, got a bit emotional. Haven't used that curse in a long time...." His grin was very fake, even for him.

Zabbio gave him a visual snarl.

"No harm has been done, Frood Zabbio. Your ship is as it was when you arrived, and the angry froods have passed without incident."

"I am gratified to hear that. Can we leave, now?"

"That is not advisable. Your fuel regulator does not match your supply, and I can taste that you will be stranded in a spatiotemporal void without our help. We offer you transport to Solaxis."

Zabbio narrowed its business eyes. "What do you seek in return?"

"Wrong question," hissed Jack.

"Frood, we make this offer in friendship."

"That is against the Universal Code of Mercenary Commerce as agreed and ratified by—"

"Zabbio!" growled Jack.

"We are not signatories to commerce. But if you wish to offer us something, we wish to meet Ianto Jones."

"Done," said Jack. "If he's really alive and ... himself."

"Most excellent, Frood Jack! Now, please tell us of him. And you."

It took a long time for Jack to speak. Trying to tell anyone about Ianto was so hard – always had been. Ianto had defied every attempt at categorisation. Their relationship had been more recalcitrant. Jack hadn't wanted Ianto anywhere near him, at first. Ianto had been irritating, persistent, devious, treacherous, whiny, cowardly and devoted to a fault to those he loved.

He'd also been eager to learn, highly adventurous in bed, ready to help Jack and eventually the team in whatever manner was needed, and had grown oddly into one of the bravest men Jack had known. He had betrayed and defied Jack many times over, once enough to warrant execution, and yet had kept Jack interested in coming back. Interested enough that Jack turned down the Doctor's offer to be a companion again.

"He shouldn't have come with me. I shouldn't have let him. I shouldn't have wanted his company so much." Jack wasn't crying. He was so over Ianto's death that anger was better. So over it, especially after he said goodbye to the ghost in the Rift. The Rift he'd closed, sealing that one last, desperate hope into a rocky grave no better than the likely disposal of Ianto's remains at Thames House. He hadn't stuck around long enough to find out whether Ianto'd had a funeral.

"Froooooooooood...." It was a low keen through psyche and nerves that soothed and wrung emotion out of every fibre of Jack's being.

"I miss him, all right? I'm going to Solaxis to see if Yen-todge Owns is my Ianto Jones, and then I'm going to ... I don't know what I'm going to do." Jack wiped everything on his face that was wet in one rough motion.

"You will save him from Darla of Klom."

"I might feed him to her," snarled Jack.

"No." It was gently intoned, but clear. A heartfelt prohibition against violence, borne of experience still too painful to tell.

Jack visualised a hug, returning some of the comfort he'd just been given. "No," he agreed. He hoped he could bear it if this man on Solaxis didn't turn out to be Ianto.

The idea that it might actually be Ianto was much more frightening.

*****

Peaches was not a sex worker. She was a therapist: a damned good one, much to Ianto's dismay. Even more irksome was the fact that in order for her to produce milk, she had to be told secrets that he preferred not telling. It stimulated the hormones that made her body think that she had children to feed, and made Ianto wonder about her Terran relatives. But she did give great milk that complemented his coffee even without benefit of a proper machine. He imagined it would foam up nicely in such a device, but for now, he just whisked it into a vast gourd of coffee and stood back as Penny drank it.

Her eyes changed. She blinked on first taste of his coffee exactly as Jack had done. She clicked her beak and clacked her tongue and dove back in to consume a huge gulp of it.

She went absolutely still.

She breathed in slow, calming rhythm.

She levitated thirty yards into the air, puffed out her feathers and opened her mouth.

"Protect your hearing portals," said Flatt, amidst a thick set of clicks that Ianto had learnt meant that danger was near.

Ianto complied, but not soon enough.

Penny let out a deafening noise, best described inside Ianto's battered brain as bray-keen-screech-foghorn. It went on for minutes.

By its end, Ianto was writhing on the ground and Flatt was – nowhere to be seen.

And then something shimmered on the edge of Ianto's vision and an oddly shaped figure morphed into view. It was rectangular and white with a black stripe down its front. It had a head and four limbs – two on which it walked and two hanging off the top corners.

Ianto blinked. "Human!"

The figure stopped, its head moving in his direction.

Ianto blinked again. "Clothing! Where can I get some?"

The figure turned away and moved towards Penny, who was still high in the air. It pointed a short, wand-like thing at her for about five seconds, and then pointed it down at the coffee. After about a minute, it squatted down and stuck the wand into the coffee for about two seconds.

Then it rose and turned towards Ianto, pointing the wand at him.

Of the thousands of things that went through Ianto's mind right then, the one he didn't expect to come out of his mouth was, "I could make that suit look better on you."

The figure paused for a second. And then it proceeded toward Ianto, pointing the wand at him like a weapon.

Ianto had already died once. He didn't want to again, but he didn't want to sacrifice his dignity any more than he already had. He looked it straight in the place where its eyes ought to be under the opaque, head-to-toe garment, and let it raise him from the ground – surprisingly gently – and guide him to the place from which it had come. He closed his eyes as they reached the place where he thought he'd be obliterated.

He felt a sort of moist prickling everywhere on his skin. Everywhere. He wondered with some resentment if his guide – keeper – was protected from that by its clothing. And then he realised that the keeper had stopped touching him just as they stepped through whatever it was from the outdoors into a very boring room with four walls, a floor, a ceiling and no windows, doors or lighting. "Why's it light in here?"

The keeper turned towards him, issuing a guttural series of noises that began with something that sounded like "Beth". It sounded like a question.

The Babel fish vibrated in what Ianto understood as pain.

He looked up at the keeper in confusion.

The keeper repeated the noises, separating them as though speaking to an idiot.

The Babel fish vibrated enough to make Ianto's ear hurt.

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand you. Who's Beth?"

The keeper was silent for a moment, and then drew itself up to its full height of about six foot ten and looked down at Ianto. "What ... is ... your ... name?"

Ianto blinked and felt a little faint when he realised that he'd heard that through his non-fish-inhabited ear. "You speak English?"

"That is your name?"

"No! My name is Ianto Jones."

"Where are you from?"

"Earth."

"Where on Earth?"

"Wales. Cardiff, most recently. Sort of."

"Where did you work?"

Ianto hesitated only a moment before saying, "Torchwood."

The wall to his left disappeared. "Mister Jones."

Ianto whipped around to see a very female-looking human. Humanoid, he corrected as he noticed that she/ze/it/he was at least seven feet tall and had six fingers on each hand. She/ze/it/he was dressed in something that looked very much like the iron-grey suits that secretaries of a certain age wore during his days on Earth. She/ze/it/he also sported what looked like iron-grey hair in an iron-grey bun that added another four inches to her/zir/its/his height. She/ze/it/he was beautiful, in a peculiar, alien-that-might-eat-you sort of way. "Uhm ... yes?"

"I am Haniyar pen-E Marchantithan. You can call me...." She/ze/it/he frowned, revealing a feathery structure to the eyebrows, and pulled a small egg-shaped thing from a pocket, scanning it. "Ah, yes. Ma-Am."

"So you're, er, female? I didn't want to presume so far away from my place and, er, time?"

"I am going through a female phase, and thank you for your consideration." The tone made it clear that she was quite unimpressed, which meant that the words might indicate that he was somehow valuable.

Despite Jack's training to the contrary, Ianto found himself wishing he wasn't. He inclined his head, remembering his dealings with diplomats. "I apologise for any slowness in adjusting to my new surroundings."

Haniyar smiled, slightly. "The cause is sufficient. Do you know how many Ianto Joneses there are in early twenty-first century Wales?"

"I, er, never bothered to check."

"Our records indicate that there are only fifty-two of them." She looked at him as though she were looking over pince-nez, though she wasn't wearing them. "Get rid of all the ones that are really named 'Ifan' or 'Ivan', and you're left with three. And you'd be surprised how difficult it is to arrange for getting them all here to sort them out and find the right one."

Ianto mustered enough coherence to say, "Why ... are you doing this?"

"To find Ianto Jones, of course. The right Ianto Jones."

"Right, then. I'm the wrong one."

"What makes you say that?"

"I am of absolutely no importance."

"No?" Haniyar beckoned to the keeper. "Your sensor, please."

The keeper handed over the wand.

Haniyar spoke eleven slurred syllables at it – some sort of passcode, Ianto thought, as he noted that the Babel fish didn't translate – and examined it.

She turned to Ianto. "According to this, it contains the exact liquid compound for which Ianto Jones is famed throughout the universe."

"Coffee? Not unique to me. Anyone can make that." Ianto nearly choked on it, but kept up his 'Harmless' smile.

"Oh, no. Not like you." She held out her hand, palm up. "Cup, please."

"I'm sorry, but I don't—"

A white cup materialised into her hand, open side down.

She frowned. "Technog issue one-one-three-seven still unresolved," she said, pointedly.

She glanced over at Ianto and turned up the corners of her mouth. "Sorry about that." She righted the cup and tilted the wand over it.

The milky coffee that poured out of it was enough to fill the cup almost to the brim, much to Ianto's surprise. She raised it to her lips.

"I wouldn't drink that! Penny was just drinking it when, er, he...?" Ianto pointed at the keeper. "...took the sample."

"I know." She sounded almost reverent. She took a sip of the liquid as though it was the most precious and rare thing in the universe. Gills hadn't been that enamoured of Perfect.

She drank it slowly, savouring every part of the experience. When she was finished she bowed her head, mouthing words that Ianto couldn't decipher by sight. She turned towards him, her face somehow lifted. "You are Ianto Jones."

Ianto felt his heart sink as his ego soared. "How do you know?"

"Only you can correctly cook the seeds of the coffee fruit—"

"Roast," muttered Ianto.

"—even in a primitive vessel over a crude fire. Only you preserve the correct balance of 3-methylthiopropionaldehyde in the brewing."

"It's nothing, really...."

"And only you, of the seventeen Ianto Joneses we brought here, recognised the coffee planted here to identify the right Ianto Jones."

"Seventeen? I thought there were only three who fit your criteria."

"Records can become ... muddled over vast distances of space and time, Mr. Jones. We needed to be sure. Especially given what we know – or rather, don't know – of what happened to your records after your death."

"You know about the 456?"

Haniyar's lips curled in unmistakeable loathing. "Disgusting creatures for whom you have too good a name."

"Have to agree with you on that." Ianto ran his hand through his hair, which reminded him that he was naked. It also made him aware that his tolerance for being naked around clothed aliens was nearly gone. And when he looked down at himself in the dimmer light of the room, he realised that he was bright red, and that it wasn't from embarrassment. "I, er, don't mean to be rude, Ma-Am, but I wonder if I could have some clothes?"

Haniyar frowned. "We do not let our exhibits wear clothes. It interferes with the natural experience we set up in our habitats."

Ianto forced himself not to seethe. "I woke up in a giant bird's nest. That is not a natural experience for my species."

"It is an honour for anyone of your species to be under the protection of—" She swallowed. "Penny." The way Haniyar bit it out made it clear that she thought she should be announcing the queen of the universe just before ordering Ianto's execution.

"I'm glad you think highly of her. So do I. She's been ... very kind to me at a difficult time." Ianto rubbed weariness from his eyes. "Why am I here?"

"Because you are of interest to my Employer, and you need protection from those who would harm you."

"So you're putting me on display in a zoo?"

"You haven't been on display, yet. But you're going to be."

Ianto's blood ran cold. "How, exactly?"

"You, Mr. Jones, are going to introduce the universe to coffee."

"That was my plan, but I thought you said it was famous."

"It is. Just not yet."

"I have to sit down...."

"Chair for Mr. Jones, please."

Ianto waited to sit until the chair solidified where it should.

"You perceive time as a separate thing from space. I know that it's all the same—"

"—fabric, yes I know."

"Very good, Mr Jones!"

"Doesn't mean I can quite see it that way."

Haniyar smiled. "Your brain contains the necessary structure to conceptualise space-time as I do, but you haven't practised it."

"So ... you perceive it all in one big ... sort of ... lump?"

"In a manner of speaking. I see time as you would perceive ... a forest. Individual events in areas and subgroups that form a bigger whole and keep shifting. It's—"

"Complicated?"

"Yes, though I was going to say 'timey-wimey'."

"Sounds like the Doctor," Ianto muttered.

"Oh! Do you know the Doctor?"

"Never met him. Can't get away from him."

"Interesting...."

"So ... why now? The coffee ... introduction, I mean."

Haniyar's face changed ever so slightly. "I can't tell you that."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no! This is not your fault, Mr Jones. I just hate time paradoxes. They make the universe all ... wrinkly." Haniyar smoothed her suit.

"So I'm going to go on display by introducing coffee to the universe ... how?"

"We have a new habitat. Display BitterBlack zone, please."

The wall in front of Ianto revealed a counter in a colour he couldn't name. It looked to be about six feet long by about two and a half feet wide. He couldn't tell how high it was because the view was from directly above it. The only reason he could discern the scale was by the size of the coffee machine sitting on one end of it. "That's—"

"Yours!"

"But that's—"

"From Earth!"

"It's not just from Earth. It's ... mine!"

"Yes, Mr Jones, I thought I mentioned that."

"The Hub was destroyed...."

"And we reclaimed its most valuable objects."

Ianto stiffened.

"Oh, I am sorry, Mr Jones. I meant to say assets. My English isn't particularly good."

"Your English is excellent," said Ianto.

"Yes, well.... Shall we go visit your new enclosure?"

Ianto examined the rest of the image. "Where's the toilet? Where do I sleep?"

"You'll go back to your nest when you aren't on display."

"How are you going to transfer the coffee to the customers?"

"You will serve it to them, of course!"

"Ah. Then I'll need clothes. You wouldn't want me transmitting exotic diseases to your clientele."

"All our specimens are sterilised upon arrival," Haniyar huffed.

"Well, then, you wouldn't want me to contract anything from any of your visitors."

"All visitors enter through sterilisation units."

"Then give me some clothes so that I can have some fucking dignity, or so that I can stop being sunburnt! I'm not supposed to be red all the time!"

Haniyar blinked and went silent, staring. And then she bent her head once and mouthed something that looked like a prayer. "My employer offers apologies for having hurt you, and for not understanding your need for corporal privacy," she said, quietly. "Will you allow our veterinarians to treat you for your injury?"

"That might be a good idea." He glanced at the coffee bar on the wall/screen. "Don't suppose you could put up a bit of shelter there, could you? My species can die from too much sun."

"My employer informs me that I am to do whatever is necessary to keep you safe from harm until you are released back into the wild."

"When am I going to be released?"

"When the time comes."

Ianto knew better than to ask.

*****

Jack awoke from a languid dream about space dust, supernovas and quiet times with someone called Janto Cooper at the William Jones Holiday Palace on Gwack. As the vestiges of the dream wisped away, he resolved to look up Gwack on his wrist strap, now that he had his fingers back.

"Frood Jack, we are about to exit Frood Crush," said Zabbio.

"Great! Maybe I can stop dreaming that I have fins. I don't, do I?" Jack looked at his hands.

"Negatory," said Zabbio. "However, I have considered having some installed."

"Yeah? Well, you have the scales for 'em," said Jack, with a wink.

"Thanks for the compliment, Frood!"

"Sure. No problem." Jack stepped into the lavatory. "If I never hear that word again, it'll be too soon," he muttered, after he closed the privacy hatch.

When Jack emerged, Zabbio was humming.

It looked relaxed. The set of its back looked happy – something Jack hadn't seen until their timeless sojourn inside Crush's cheek fold. Its voice had mellowed almost as much as its word choices.

Jack smiled. "Hey. You ready to leave?"

"I have digged our time with Frood Crush. It has been awful."

"I think you mean 'awesome'," said Jack.

"It has been full of awe, therefore awe-full."

"Never let a space whale teach you a language he's learned from Zaphod!"

"Froooooods," said Crush. It was mournful – a fact more pronounced by the fact that they no longer need the telepathy enhancer.

"Aw, Crush. Is it time, already?"

"Yes, Jack."

"How far away are we?"

"Just a few thousand miles."

"That close? And you're thinking in Earth terms! Definitely time for us to leave." Jack gave Crush a mental squeeze of a vestigial shoulder.

"Our fuel reserve will not let us travel that distance," said Zabbio. "And he is thinking in Vlakkin terms. We should stay longer."

"Then your pay will be delayed," said Jack.

"Can you give us a boost, Frood Crush?"

"No problem, Frood Zabbio. Here are the coordinates to the back of my throat."

"Thank you, Frood."

"No offence, but if you sneeze us out, won't that blow us off course? "

"Not if you position your ship as instructed before ejection. You will reach the Solaxis Zoo twenty-five point seven-three-nine Earth hours later."

"Fantastic! Zabbio, wanna—"

"We are at launch point," said Zabbio. "Frood Crush, are we correctly positioned?"

"Indubitably, Frood Zabbio. Prepare for launch...."

Jack sat down, bracing himself and the chair as best he could for a sneeze powerful enough to send the ship thousands of miles through space. "Ready!"

"Ready," said Zabbio, with perfect calm.

"Farewell," rumbled Crush.

"Farewell! Thank you!" Jack squeezed his eyes shut, waiting.

Nothing.

"I miss Frood Crush," said Zabbio.

"What do you mean, 'miss him'?"

"Ejection was successful," said Zabbio.

"Huh?" Jack opened his eyes and activated the window. "Oh. Wow! I didn't know how much I missed seeing the stars!"

"We were Crush's guests for two grade three time bundles."

"A three and a half months," murmured Jack.

"Why do you insist on thinking in irrelevant measures of space-time?"

"I have to be able to talk to Ianto," said Jack, as the fear of it sank in. "What if he's dead? What if he's gone? What if he's part of Darla's ass?"

"At least your question now varies from, 'What if it isn't him?'" said Zabbio.

"This is going to be the longest day of my life," said Jack, barely registering Zabbio's presence.

"Mine also," muttered Zabbio, flicking a wistful eye at the weapons locker.

*****

"One miniature BitterBlack nothing added," said Ianto, handing it up as high as he could to the ten-foot walking stick whose name the Babel fish still couldn't translate. The stick angled himself so that his fingers would reach the tiny cup. His people broke if they bent, and Ianto had asked Haniyar many times for a mechanism by which this very nice repeat customer might be served. The stick rattled his thanks and dropped a tip into Ianto's hand. And then he rattled, "I will bid on you."

The press of customers waiting to get their coffee began to applaud, the sound spreading as the word passed from being to beings about the bid intent.

"Thank you. You are most kind." Ianto stuffed the money into the pumpkin-sized gourd under the counter before greeting his next customer. "Ah, Madame Txihn! Gills, we need the Perfect, please."

"I wish to attempt it without embellishment, today."

"I am honoured by your bravery. What strength do you favour this hour?"

"I shall attempt grade three."

"Flawless choice, as always." Ianto filled a gold tasting cup with his Robust roast and bowed, turning his back as he handed it to her. This time, he knew he hadn't spilt a drop. He kept his position as all around the bar fell silent. He could sense the collective holding of breath.

There was a tingly hum interrupted by rapturous sighs and an occasional cough. "Perfect manners, perfect bitter, perfect black. I will bid for you."

Nobody made a sound.

"Perfect manners, perfect silence, perfect day. When I win, Ianto Jones will stay on Solaxis and be the only maker and seller of BitterBlack."

There was a collective breath.

"Perfect breath. I am content." Madame Txihn placed the tasting cup with just the right amount of noise on the counter.

"You do me the greatest honour, Madame Txihn."

"As you have done me."

Ianto turned around and smiled, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

"I will also bid on Ianto Jones!"

There was an uproar from the crowd that translated to, "Wait your turn!" and "How dare you?" and "Interloper!"

Ianto, as always, ignored the interruption and focused on his next potential bidder. "Mister Bon, your presence warms me. May I be permitted to serve you in this moment?"

"You may grant me a size two, grade two with cold milk, Prime Owns. I would like it to be the colour of my palm."

Ianto dispensed the coffee and placed the cup next to Mister Bon's outstretched hand. He poured the milk into it, stirring, until the exact colour match had been achieved, and then picked it up. "I offer my life if this cup displeases you."

Mister Bon accepted the cup and bowed. "I accept your offer." He sips and gurgles. "Though I do not need your life. I will bid on you, that you may be saved from absorption and may continue to serve the honoured guests on Solaxis."

The crowd applauded.

"I, too, will bid on Ianto Jones!"

Ianto froze at the voice.

"Prime Owns is upset," someone said. The word spread like fire through the crowd.

"No, you won't! He's mine!"

That voice caused him to shudder.

"Darla of Klom!" It came as one utterance from those gathered. They all pressed closer to the bar.

"She's not supposed to be here! It was agreed!"

There was a roar of affirmation.

"Ianto Jones is mine!"

"No! He's my pet! Daddy bought him for me!"

Ianto shivered, clamping down, refusing to say the name, even to himself.

Gills put his arm around Ianto's shoulders. "Prime Owns is suffering!" he shouted. "You recognise that voice," he whispered into Ianto's ear as the clamour grew.

Ianto nodded, in spite of himself. Then he shook his head.

"Which is it?" hissed Gills.

"I've wanted to hear it for so long. What if it isn't him?"

"The one you paid the mercenary to find?"

"Yes."

The crowd roar was so loud that Ianto couldn't hear himself speak. Emergency alert blasts ripped as a sonic wave through the zoo.

And then there was a deafening bang and a burst of green, focused light shooting straight up into the air.

The crowd fell silent.

"Under Article seven-five-nine-nine of the Code of Claims and Commerce, in accordance with Shadow Proclamation Directive two, I declare that Ianto Jones is mine by right of coital partnership, and I hereby assert my claim!"

"Where's your proof?"

Ianto didn't recognise that voice, but the question spread.

"Ianto Jones will certify my claim."

"He can't certify anything! He's an exhibit!"

"Pets recognise their owners," said another voice.

"Ianto, tell them who I am!"

"I can't see you or smell you," said Ianto. "I don't know who you are."

"See? He's mine," shouted Darla.

"Let him through," yelled someone else.

"Yeah, let's see some coital partnership!"

"I can't do this," said Ianto, though he knew he could, no matter how much he hated the idea of having all his hopes dashed or met.

And then the air was rent by the same sound that Penny had trumpeted when she'd first drunk the coffee over a Moonth ago.

The crowd fell to the ground, some clutching their hearing portals, others kneeling as though to royalty.

"Make way for the claimants!" That voice belonged to Haniyar. "By order of her Royal Imperator Vanemah Trinoq pen-E!"

The crowd shuffled itself until two paths appeared.

Ianto despised the sight of Darla oozing down the first one. It seemed as though the crowd might agree with him.

He was so busy looking at her and trying hard not to imagine his impending doom that he didn't see the other claimant approaching.

"Prime Owns," said a familiar, prickly voice, "I have performed the tasks for which you hired me. Here is the target known to you as Captain Jack Harkness."

"I—" Ianto swallowed, refusing to look at Zabbio's target. "I thank you, Agent Zabbio."

"You must confirm or deny correct target acquisition," said Zabbio.

Ianto closed his eyes and centred himself as best he could. And then he looked.

The man looked older. Just by a few years, in an ordinary life, but Ianto knew that Jack had lived for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years since they'd last seen each other. It broke his heart. "Jack...."

"Do you confirm target acquisition, Prime Owns?"

Ianto was silent, rapt.

"Ianto?" Jack's voice cracked, and Ianto couldn't decipher the emotion that caused it.

"Yes," whispered Ianto. "Yes," he repeated, louder. "I confirm that this is Captain Jack Harkness, the target I paid you, Mercenary Agent Zabbio, to seek and recover for me."

"And do you confirm either claimant?" said Haniyar.

Ianto looked the person he hoped – knew – was Jack straight in the eye. "I confirm that the claimant known to me as Captain Jack Harkness and I did engage in coital partnership."

"NO!" screeched Darla.

"Guards, control the child," said Haniyar. She turned to Ianto. "Did that partnership end by free volition of either or both parties?"

"Only if you count stupidity as a choice," said Ianto.

"Ianto, I—"

"I insisted on confronting the 456. They killed us. Me—"

"You wouldn't have died if I'd thought to get you a gas mask," said Jack, tightly.

"I should've been better prepared or not gone in at all. I just—"

"—wanted to be there with me. Fight for England—"

"Wales...."

"Wales – like always."

"I'll take that as a 'no', then," said Haniyar, with uncharacteristic warmth.

"I didn't want to end it," said Ianto.

"Neither did I." Jack's voice was so broken that Ianto barely managed to stand his ground.

"Then by the power vested in me as Overseer of Collections of the Solaxian Zoo, I hereby declare Oddity Ianto Jones, also known as Yen-todge Owns, Prime Owns and something only Lord Flatt of Gondwana can pronounce, claimed and no longer eligible for containment or sale. You will be released into the wild after a short transition time, during which your claimant may stay with you, as he sees fit."

"What about Gills and Penny and, er, Lord Flatt?"

"My employer, Her Royal Imperator, and her consort are, of course, at absolute liberty to do as they please. As for Gills, his sentence is nearly served. Perhaps you would like to bid on him when he is available?"

Ianto glanced at Gills. "I'll think about it," he said. Then, "Wait ... Penny is your employer?"

Haniyar smiled. "Of course. And she welcomes you and Captain Harkness into her enclosure for your transition period, if you so desire. It is private, warm and bigger than you have been allowed to see."

"That sounds fine," said Ianto.

"Works for me," said Jack.

"Any chance you could let me, er, be with my coital partner?" said Ianto.

"Oh, of course! Do forgive me. Open coffee bar, please."

Two-thirds of the bar vanished and Ianto was in Jack's arms. "Jack—"

"I love you."

Ianto stopped short. "That didn't need saying," he said, searching Jack's eyes.

"Yes, it did," said Jack.

"How do you know it's the real me?"

"I just know...." But then Jack pulled back, eyes narrowing. "Ever heard of a broad called Siriath?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

"You sure you never heard of a Welsh demon called Siriath? Keeper of the dead, or something?"

"No. You sure it wasn't an alien posing as a demon? It's happened before."

"More like an alien who became the demon. But really, you never heard of Siriath?"

"Jack – if you are Jack, that is – why are you ... oh, wait.... You don't mean Cyhyraeth, do you?"

"Huh?"

"Some sort of Welsh legend about a hideous woman that moans when people die. Never really did believe in that sort of thing—"

Jack put a finger on Ianto's lips. And then his face changed and he turned Ianto's head slightly to the left. "You still have a scar," he murmured, tracing it.

"From the Hub explosion," said Ianto, cupping Jack's hand.

"I missed you so much."

The kiss should have been awkward after all that had happened between them. It should have hurt, but in an awkward, I-don't-know-you-anymore sort of way, not with such a deep, excruciating realisation of mutual love and grief. It was beautiful and horrible and everything that Ianto had ever needed in his vastly interrupted life. He hung on shamelessly, because he thought he would never be able to let go of it, and because Jack was doing the same.

When they pulled apart just enough to breathe and gaze at each other, Ianto touched Jack's face. "Thank you for finding me."

Tags: challenge, jack/ianto, slash, torchwood
Current Mood: amused amused