Ianto winces and reaches out a hand to his wrist, his touch gentle but hopefully stilling the motion of him trying to flex those fingers, for the love of god stop trying to move those fingers it hurts him just to look at you.

If Jim were to ever talk to Ianto about these feelings, he'd be willing to listen. To understand. He knows what it is to feel alone. More than a lot of people, really. He's never been in command, of course, but he'd lost all of his friends and coworkers once before, and here it seems it's happened all over again. The fact that they're supposedly in a stasis pod somewhere is hardly a consolation if he'll never see them again. He may not understand the Federation, but he understands loneliness. (And he's there for you.)

"You had better be," Ianto says, firmly. "Just because the Natha don't let us die doesn't mean that those of us left behind don't suffer for it. This had better not be some attempt at machismo. I've already dealt with one fatal case of that today." He aims for his tone to be light but he isn't kidding about the suffering bit.