Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Good afternoon, Bonnet Adventures, this is Stede Bonnet speaking. Yes, of Bonnet Adventures. No… actually, my grandfather founded it in- uh, no, that would be Nigel Badminton. Shall I transfer you? Yes, this is Operations. No, I don’t lead the tours but I’m sure I can answer any question you- Ah, no, unfortunately I haven’t been to the North Island. No, I… I haven’t been there either. Well, because I mostly do the planning, but- yes, they keep me busy here! I can, however, give you some excellent recommendations for activities in Queenstown, are you in need of those? Ah. Alright. Have a nice day.”

Stede set the phone back into its receiver and dug back into work. He had an enormous list of things that needed doing before a FAM tour kicked off in Rotorua, including the arrival times of some of the guests - journalists, bloggers and travel agents from London and New York, who were connecting in LA. There were also hotel rooms that needed confirming, outstanding details on dietary restrictions for the welcome dinner, and a final gear list that still had yet to be approved by the guides. 

I may only be the administrator, he thought to himself. But I’m certainly not twiddling my thumbs. 

“Twiddling your thumbs again, Bonnet?” 

Stede started and swivelled around in his chair. Nigel, looking smart in a crisp suit, was leaning up against the half-wall of Stede’s cubicle, single handedly scrolling through his iPhone. 

Stede forced a chuckle Always a good idea to keep things light with Nigel. “Not this time Nigel. Just tightening things up for tomorrow’s Fam trip.”

“Did I hear you on a call with a client, just now?”

“What’s that?”

“Offering travel recommendations?”

“Oh, erm-”

Nigel finally looked up from his phone. 

“Because you know that only Bonnet Adventures Adventure Specialists with guiding experience are permitted to field inquiries from clients.”

“Yes, I know, I just-”

“Do you have guiding experience Bonnet? Did I miss a memo somewhere that says you’ve been beyond Queenstown?”

“No, Nigel.” Stede decided to stop trying to explain himself. Nigel was just there to needle him, and it was usually best to just wait that out. 

“So then next time you receive a call from someone looking to speak with someone who knows their way around the country, you’ll transfer them to someone who actually knows what they’re talking about?”

“Absolutely, I will.”

“Wonderful.”

Nigel drifted away, still on his phone. Stede watched him go, then turned his chair slowly back to face his computer screen. 

His inbox pinged. 

“Oh, wow,” Stede breathed, taking a moment to check out the details. “Bit dear though, isn’t $115 for a flask?”

“But it’s not just a flask, is it?” Jeffrey said, popping his head up from nextdoor. Read the website. It’s a ‘compass, a flashlight, a flask and two shot glasses. It’s the whole package.’” He ducked back down into his cubicle. 

“You’re not buying it?” Stede called. 

“I am,” Jeffrey called back, almost defiant. “It’s cool, I want it, I’m getting it.”

“You’ll never use it,” Stede frowned. “When was the last time you left the city?”

Jeffrey didn’t answer. 

Stede flicked his monitor off, stood up, and stretched. Nigel had taken the wind out of his sails. 

“Cup of tea?” he asked Jeffrey. 

“Breakroom or cafe?”

“Breakroom, I’m afraid.” 

“No, thank you.”

###

Stede had the breakroom to himself. He took his time with his tea, stirring milk into the mug while browsing the list of new gadgets Jeffrey had sent through earlier. 

He hadn’t wanted to admit it to Jeffrey, but he already owned the VSSL Adventure Flask Kit; he’d nabbed it last week, along with a Garmin GPS watch and a Stellarscope for mapping constellations. Outdoor gear was his guilty pleasure; he had far more gadgets than he’d like to admit. Jeffrey knew this, but he didn’t know just how often Stede actually splurged on the items they often ogled at over lunch. The only person who did know was Mary. In fact, Stede’s earlier doubts about the purchase had, in fact, been echoes of Mary’s own reaction when the flashlight-compass-flask came in the mail. 

“I only thought… it might be neat…. If we went camping.”

“You know I hate the forest. I said so the other day, when you bought that sleeping bag thing.”

“It was a bivy sack, actually-”

“Stede!"

They really hadn’t been getting on lately. Mary believed Stede spent too much time at work, too much time online buying “toys,” as she called them, and too much time  watching travel bloggers on YouTube. 

She was right, he did do those things. Ordering the latest gadgets broke the monotony of arranging group tours dreamed up by Adventure Specialists every day, without ever getting to experience the outdoors, the challenges – the camaraderie of being with like minded adventurers – for himself. He supposed he was delusional, thinking he might ever actually use his pair of Hyperlex all-terrain snowshoes,  or his Nighthawk M5 5G mobile router, but it was fun to imagine all the ways they might come in handy, should he ever find himself in the New Zealand bush. 

He'd asked last year if he might switch from administration to field work, but his father wouldn't hear of it. Boys who went to boarding school, who went to business school, they didn't guide coach tours - they carry on the family business (whether or not they've earned it). Setting up tents and paddling kayaks and boiling coffee over a fire wasn't for him. So for now, day trips to the national park with the kids would have to do.

Just then, the door to the breakroom banged open and the air erupted with chatter and laughter. After tours wrapped up, the guides would usually swing by HQ, to drop off their paperwork, collect their cheques and catch up while raiding the breakroom. 

“Hi all!” Stede sang as they crowded in. There were about six of them, clad in the standard garb of merino wool, convertible pants, fleece vests and ball caps with sporty sunglasses on the bills. “Ivan, Fang,” he waved at the two he recognized. "How's life out on the open road?" 

The group didn’t seem to hear him; they were rummaging through the snack cupboards while trading notes on their last trip and bragging about where they were headed next. Stede listened, eyes wide, as they listed places he’d only ever seen in a Bonnet Adventures brochure. Antarctica, Botswana, Yukon, Australia, Nepal…

The guides were gone just as quickly as they’d arrived, the breakroom cupboards depleted and a rather alarming number of energy drinks now littering the countertop. 

Stede dumped his now-cold tea into the sink and headed back to his desk, imagining himself as the one cooking for guests over a fire in the middle of the Australian outback. As he rounded the corner, he bumped into Hornberry and Wellington, the Adventure Specialists team running the FAM.

“Hi there gentlemen,” Stede said. He noticed they both had grim faces. “Everything alright?”

“We were just coming to find you,” Hornberry said, lowering his voice while Wellington glanced around. “I spoke with Ivan-”

“Ah yes, we said hello in the breakroom-”

“He’s pulling out of the FAM.”

Stede blinked. “What?”

Hornberry and Wellington stared back at him, letting the news sink in. 

“But - but the tour is tomorrow,” Stede said unhelpfully. 

“That’s right,” Wellington said in his patronizing drawl. “We’re fucked.” 

“Why would he?”

“Apparently, he doesn’t like that Ed Teach is his expedition partner, and Izzy Hands is his coach driver,” Hornberry groaned. “According to him, Teach is a ‘dick’ and Hands is a ‘prick.’ He said the last time they worked together, the guests tipped terribly and left bad reviews.”

“Then why did we hire them?” 

“Because it’s high season. Everyone is booked solid, and we were lucky to get someone as experienced as Teach for something like a FAM,” Wellginton snarked. “Bloggers don't tip well so most guides won't do them."

“The guests are already en route, we don’t have time to rehire, and Teach can’t do the trip on his own - he’s hopeless with logistics, and if Ivan is to be believed, usually hungover,” Hornberry added. 

“Can one of you go?” Stede offered racking his brain for solutions. Hornberry and Wellington exchanged looks. 

“Well you know, we’ve just been on so many FAMs so many times,” Wellington said with a slight air of indifference, “it’s become a bit of a bore for us.” 

“We were actually thinking that you might like to do it,” Hornberry said, as though he were offering a sweet to a child. 

“Me?” Stede’s heart quickened. Blood rushed in his ears. 

“Nobody knows the tour better than you,” Wellington said. “You’ve done all the bookings, and with your last name, the guests will feel as though they’re getting the VIP treatment.”

Stede scoffed. “Well I don’t know about that. Besides I… I don’t have any experience.”

“Well you won’t be alone,” Hornberry reasoned. “You’ll have Teach, for what that's worth, and it’s the same thing, really, as what you do now - only you’re there, instead of behind a desk. Stede,” he added, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I think you’ll do… fine.”

“I agree,” Wellington chimed in, nodding approvingly. “Look at him, he clearly has the eyes of an adventurer.”

###

“You what?” Jeffrey leapt to his feet to face Stede. Stede shrugged, palms facing the ceiling. “They asked you to do it - just like that?”

“Just like that,” Stede nodded. “But I don't know... I’ve no experience, plus there’s Mary and the kids-”

“Stede.” Jeffrey took a sober tone. “You have to do this. For the rest of us stuck in here. You’re right - I’ll never get to use that damn flask. The most I ever get out is to take my dog to the park now and again.” 

Jeffrey’s face fell further. “Most of the time he has diarrhea.”

###

“You what?” Mary’s reaction to Stede’s news was somewhat less enthusiastic than Jeffrey’s. “You want to go hiking across the country… for 13 days?”

“Well, yes,” Stede reasoned. "But as a guide." He’d gotten quite excited over the last few hours at work, talking over details with Hornberry and Wellington, and promised he'd confirm once he'd talked it over with his wife. Now, he could feel all that slipping away. 

“So spending all your time buying toys online isn’t enough anymore," Mary said slowly, simmering mad. "Now you need to physically get away from us?” 

“No, that’s not-” Stede stopped himself. “It was a work emergency, they don’t have anyone else.”

“Don't." Mary crossed her arms, glaring. "We're supposed to be working on us, Stede. Instead, you’re literally flying to the other side of the country - to do something you're completely unqualified for, by the way.” 

Then she dropped them to her sides, defeated. “Stede. I know you’re unhappy. I’m unhappy too. But we’ve only got this one life. We’ve got to try, right?”

Stede felt the prickly heat of conflict anxiety spread across his body. “I'm not… unhappy. But I'm sorry. I’ll get it stopped.”

Mary didn't react. “I’m going to get dinner going. Why don't you play with the kids. But- don’t show them any Bear Gryllis videos - they’ll have nightmares again.”

###

It was 11PM, and everyone was in bed but Stede, who had, after tucking in the children and catching up on The Crown with Mary, slipped into the basement with his tablet. Now, he was doing what he usually did every night- drinking a brandy, reading Outside Magazine and listening to a podcast about the Inca trail. 

Mary was right - he was unqualified. He didn’t know the first thing about guiding a tour. Or travel. Or New Zealand. No amount of daydreaming was going to change that. 

Stede drained the last of his brandy. May as well go to bed, so he could start another day of being Stede Bonnet, the only businessman in tourism who had never actually travelled. He clicked his browser tabs closed, one by one. As he moved to close Top Rated Camping Tech You Can’t Live Without, an advertisement for Bonnet Adventures popped up.

Chapter Text

STEDE EMAILING HORNBERRY AND WELLINGTON

Good evening gentlemen,

I've given it some thought and have decided to assist you by filling the role of lead guide on tomorrow's Trekking New Zealand FAM.

I've taken the liberty of booking my own flight to Rotorua. I plan to be at the hotel before the guests arrive. I will, however, require in-house assistance from you both should anything unexpected arise in the field. Please also forward along any documentation that may be relevant to the trip, so that I can be fully briefed for the journey.

If I've forgotten anything, you can reach me on my cell - 03-783-3320.

Regards, Stede

STEDE EMAILING JEFFREY

Can you cover my desk for a few days? Nothing urgen - I'll forward you some emails.

Looks like I'm going to be using that flask after all!

Stede

STEDE TEXTING MARY

Stede: So I've decided to go after all. Please don't think I'm running away. This is just something I have to do. I hope you can understand. 

Stede: Because you're right: We've only got this one life. And you deserve happiness. As do I. 

STEDE TEXTING MARY

Stede: Flying to Rotorua shortly. I'll text you when I land.

Stede: Boarding now. Love you. I'm sorry.  

Chapter Text

"Afternoon my good sir!" Stede sang as he approached his hotel front desk. "I'm here to check in for the Bonnet Adventures trekking tour – which I'm leading, so you know… tour guide,” he pointed at himself. 

Stede was riding high. He'd just flown in a plane for the very first time, and had spent the majority of the flight glued to the window, watching the sun shine through the clouds. 

He still had to finalize some details, connect with Hands and Teach, and review tomorrow's itinerary before dinner that night, but for the moment, he was entirely absorbed in his surroundings, gaping at the lobby decor and the bustle of tourists and the fact that he was about to hold the key card to his own hotel room. 

"Name?" the clerk asked, far from whatever energy level Stede seemed to be buzzing at. 

"Stede Bonnet," he replied, saying each word with emphasis and a large smile. 

"Oh, hello" said a voice from behind him. Stede turned. Next in line was a short man with salt and pepper hair and dark eyes. He looked tired, like he'd been annoyed every day of his life. 

"Izzy Hands. Motorcoach driver," the man said. 

"Well, I'm delighted to meet you Izzy," Stede said good naturedly, extending a hand. "I'm very much looking forward to working with you."

"I haven't seen your name on any of the guide rosters before," Izzy said in a questioning tone, his handshake as stiff as his demeanour. "Other than on the company logo, of course. Where've you been guiding?"

"Actually, this is my first time," Stede admitted. "You're looking at an adventure virgin!" 

Izzy stared. "You've never led a tour?" 

"Afraid not. I've never really been on one either, but – I've organized plenty, so I'm confident I can learn on the job." 

Izzy seemed unconvinced. "But you have your outdoor survival training?"

He frowned at Stede's blank expression. "Wilderness first responder certification? CPR? Can you light a campfire?" he pressed. 

Stede shifted uncomfortably. He'd never even heard of those first two.

"Oh I'm sure Mr Teach and yourself will more than make up for whatever qualifications I might be lacking," Stede was glad he sounded more confident than he felt. 

"As for a campfire, I do have a nifty little firestarter that doubles as a single burner. "It's solar powered," he added as though that might delight Izzy right out of his sour mood (it didn’t). 

Stede said a silent thanks when the front desk clerk finished checking Stede in and he had to step away to take his key. 

"Thank you. Before I go up, I wanted to ask - have any of our guests checked in yet? First ones in would be… Lucius Spriggs and Pete Black.”

The clerk tapped away at his computer. 

"There doesn’t seem to be any reservations with those names." 

"That's not– is that true? What about uh… Frenchie Fry?" 

He wasn't in the system either. By the end, Stede learned that four out of the eight guests attending didn't have rooms. And with the tourism season in full swing, the hotel was fully booked. 

"That can't be right. I booked the rooms myself," Stede argued with the clerk. He asked him to check again, but nothing changed. 

Izzy stepped up to the counter beside Stede, checking in with the next clerk over. 

"Not enough rooms for the guests? That doesn't seem good," he mused. 

Stede scrolled through his inbox, scanning for confirmation emails. When he found them, he saw the dates they were made. Then he remembered: It was weeks ago. He’d been in the middle of booking when he'd had to race out of the office for Alma's school play. He’d forgotten to do the rest.

A familiar prickly feeling started to spread through Stede's body. 

Do not panic, he scolded himself. Think, little rich boy. 

"Oh I wanted to ask- how're you stocked for medical supplies?" Izzy asked, his own check-in having gone smoothly. 

"Medical supplies?" 

"For your first aid kit," Izzy explained. When Stede didn't respond, he rolled his eyes. "Every guide on the tour needs to carry his own. I have one on the bus, Edward has one. Do you not have one?" 

"Uh, I don't, I don't think– Does the company not supply those?" Stede asked, guessing the answer. 

"No, your father's company makes us bring – and pay for – our own," Izzy said. “But supplied or not – every guide's got one,, for obvious reasons.” He scrutinized Stede, who could feel his inadequacy – and anxiety– growing. 

“Let me see if I have this straight - you’ve got a GPS watch, a FitBit and whatever the fuck that is,” Izzy said, gesturing at Stede’s wrists (“It’s a Paracord survival bracelet,” Stede mumbled), “but you don’t have basic first aid supplies?”

Stede didn’t know what to say, and only tugged his jacket sleeves over the offending items. How could he have missed this?

"I wonder,” Izzy said as he wheeled his luggage around and toward the elevators, “if you didn't know about something as basic as this, what else do you not know?" 

Ivan was right. Izzy was a prick. 

Still, he had a point. Stede knew nothing about what it took to be a guide on the ground – and it seemed as though he wasn't that good at his job back in the office either. Stede felt the familiar pang of inadequacy that he’d begun to associate with Nigel, his father and even Mary, at times. Whatever else he didn't know, Izzy would be sure to point it out on the road. The thought of sharing a bus with him was starting to - 

"Hang on," Stede gasped. He turned to the clerk. 

"Put Mr. Oach in a room with Mr. Swede, with two queen beds. Mr. Fry can share with Mr. Feeney, same arrangement. We’ll be in Turanga tomorrow, hopefully they don't mind sharing for a night." 

The clerk nodded, inputting the update. "You still have Mr. Spriggs and Mr. Black without a room," he informed Stede. 

Stede thought for a moment. Then he smiled.

###

"Hold the elevator!"  he called after Izzy, arriving just in time despite Izzy's attempts to the contrary.

"Mr Hands," Stede slid into the car with his suitcase. "Unfortunately we needed to consolidate some rooms to accommodate the guests. I'm going to need you to share with Mr. Teach for the duration of our stay. I hope you don't mind?" 

"Alright." Izzy looked as though he did mind, but he kept his eyes front as the elevator hummed upward. They reached Stede's floor. 

"Can I leave it with you to let Mr. Teach know? It appears I have some shopping to do," Stede, said, stepping into the hallway and turning back to Izzy. 

Izzy acknowledged his request with a sneer before the doors slid closed, leaving Stede facing his own mirrored reflection. He exhaled. 

"I. Am. Adequate.”

IZZY TEXTING ED
Izzy: Don’t bother checking in. You’re in 304 with me. 
Ed: the fuck
Izzy: Not my doing. The tour leader needed extra rooms
Ed: What’s he like
Izzy: A fucking joke. Never guided before. Never even traveled Looks ridiculous too. Like a walking talking Helly fucking Hanson billboard
Ed: you love Helly Hanson
Izzy: I have one pair of gloves, fuck you very much. I think his daddy gave him the gig. 
Ed: ?
Izzy: He’s a Bonnet
Ed: really 
Izzy: Yep
Ed: So a fancy man with a fancy name. Who got you to give your room away. 
Izzy: He fucked up the reservations. Completely unprofessional. You’ll see when you meet him. 
Ed: it might be nice to haev some new blood around. sick of seeing the same old faces everywhere we go
Ed: doing the same shit, w the same shitty tourists. maybe the fancy man will spice things up
Izzy: You say that until his fuck ups have us out of jobs. Speaking of which, did you submit that application?
Ed: the what? jk. no i haven’t yet but i will. 
Izzy: It’s due day after tomorrow. Better get on it if you want to eat next season
Ed: you do it
Izzy: Has to be the guide. Make sure you say you only work with me
Ed: Yes daddy

-15 mins Later-

Izzy: ETA?
Ed: Just stocking up. be there for dinner
want anything
Izzy: Some fucking aspirin. Going to be a long week
Ed: Poor baby

###

By 5:30, Stede felt in reasonably good shape. He had a clearer idea of what the next day would bring, he’d spoken with the hotel event staff about the welcome dinner, had unpacked his gear and laid his outfit out for both the evening and the morning on the other bed. He’d even had time to swing round to the shops and pick up a first aid kit. It was nothing too fancy, but it was light, and fit nicely in his backpack. Unfortunately, a Google search revealed it would take a little longer to obtain outdoor survival certification. 

“Next time,” Stede reasoned. Still, he felt a little less unprepared than he had in the lobby, and decided he was allowed to kick back a bit before dinner – maybe order up some wine and enjoy his room’s lovely view, which overlooked the lake. 

STEDE TEXTING MARY

Stede: Landed safe. Settled in well. Narrowly avoided a few minor disasters but I think I'm getting the hang of it! How are the kids?

Mary: Wondering where the hell their father is.

FRENCHIE TEXTING STEDE

Frenchie: Is this Stede Bonnet?
Stede: This is he, who is this?
Frenchie: It’s Frenchie Fry, I’m covering the tour for T+L
Stede: Nice to meet you Frenchie! Welcome to New Zealand! I have to admit I’m a fan of your work. Loved your piece on the Grand Canyon. 
Frenchie: ty. So I just went to check in. Apparently I’m sharing a room with another journalist?
Stede: A photographer, actually, John Feeney. I’m sorry about that - there was a slight mixup with the rooms. I’ve gone ahead and confirmed with the other hotels, so it should only be for tonight. 
Frenchie: Unfortunately, that’s not going to work for me. I have a deadline tonight and will be up all night writing. I’d hate to keep someone awake. 
Frenchie: So I’ll need my own room
Stede: There’s a business centre in the lobby, open 24 hours, you could use that?
Frenchie: I really need my own space. For other reasons as well. Personal. Medical 
Stede: Well I’ll see what I can do. 
Excuse me Frenchie, I’ll be right back. 

ROACH TEXTING STEDE

Roach: Hi Stede, this is Rory Oach. 
Stede: Well hello Rory! Welcome to Rotorua!
Roach: Am I sharing with another agent
Stede: I’m afraid so, just for tonight. They were overbooked.
Roach: Is there anything that can be done? I’m quite a loud snorer and restless sleeper (night terrors)
Stede: Unfortunately no, we haven’t any rooms to give away. 
Roach: Can the other agent share with you?
Stede: I’ll be back in a moment Rory

OLUWANDE TEXTING STEDE

Oluwande: Is this Stede Bonnet’s number?
Stede: This is he
Oluwande: Hi Stede, this is Oluwande and Jim, from Out and About
Stede: Hello! Welcome!
Oluwande: Thank you. Jim and I were looking at the itinerary for tomorrow, and we were hoping you might provide an alternative to Whirinaki, Waiotapu Thermal Reserve and Huka Falls? This is our fifth time to Aotearoa, and we’ve done all tomorrow’s activities several times
Stede: We’ll we’re on the road quite a bit tomorrow, which would mean an additional experience at each stop
Oluwande: It’s a big ask, I know, but when Hornberry invited us he said the guide would help us expand on the itinerary, find some new experiences. It’s what our clients have been asking for
Stede: I understand. What did you have in mind? 
Oluwande: We were hoping you could make some recommendations? Anything new. Oluwande: We’re especially interested in locals-only type activities
Oluwande: Stede?

LUCIUS TEXTING STEDE

Lucius: This is Lucius Spriggs from Travel Snax. we just arrived from a VERY long and exhausting flight and our room is an absolute mess
Lucius: completely unacceptable
Lucius: I must admit this is a poor first impression
Lucius: Travel Snax has been on many FAMs and we’ve never seen anything like this. We now have very strong reservations about the quality of the trip, and the legitimacy of Bonnet Adventures as a travel brand
Lucius: We’d like this to be remedied immediately so that we get some much needed rest before this tour - which is quite ambitious, by the way, hardly any free time - begins
Stede: Thank you so much for reaching out Lucius! Hello to Pete as well! I’m very sorry to hear about your room. May I ask what the problem is specifically, so that I can relay it back to the front desk?
Lucius: Well it’s very small. 
Lucius: it doesn’t look like it’s been vacuumed
Lucius: there aren’t nearly enough towels
Lucius: when we open the windows there’s an awful amount of street noise
Lucius: they also seem to have forgotten our welcome basket
Stede: Thank you Lucius. Unfortunately, the hotel was overbooked this weekend so there weren’t any larger rooms available, but we’ll be in a new hotel tomorrow. 
I can certainly speak to housekeeping and ask for more towels. Not sure what can be done about the street noise, as we’re in a city
Lucius: Please move us to a higher floor
Lucius: As content creators, we are not able to operate at our standard without appropriate accommodation. If we are expected to remain in this room, we’ll be unable to provide the content promised to your marketing department 
Stede: Well unfortunately, there are no more rooms available. But your welcome basket will be provided to you at tonight’s dinner!
Lucius: I’d like the number of your supervisor.

Stede's head was spinning when he heard a loud knock. His ears ringing, he made his way to the door and checked the peephole. 

A very large eye stared back at him. Stede yanked himself back. He considered not answering it - he wasn’t sure he could handle another complaint. More than that though, he wasn’t really feeling up to it; he felt strange. 

“I know you’re there, mate, just saw your shadow in the door,” called the owner of the eye. 

Damn. Stede reached forward and pulled the door open. A tall, unshaven man in an eclectic hiking ensemble stood on the other side. 

“Hello. Thought I'd come up and introduce myself – wow.” The man looked past Stede. “That is a sweet view. Mind if I–”

Despite being right in front of Stede, the man’s voice sounded awfully far away. 

“Uh, of course,” Stede said, forcing a smile. “Come right in.”

The man headed straight to the windows, which spanned two-thirds of the room. He craned his neck, looking in every direction, then turned and took in the room with a low whistle. “Very nice. How’d you end up the only bugger with a room all to yourself? Look, you've got a sofa and everything…” 

Stede, who had made it back as far as the desk, was now struggling to find words. His hands and forearms felt tingly, as if they were asleep. His mouth was dry. Everything was quickening, and it was getting rather difficult to catch his breath. 

“You’re holding out on the rest of us-” The man finally looked at Stede and his entire demeanor changed. “Oh, shit. You OK?”

“Ah, I’m not quite –”  Stede shook his head, and felt a sudden swooping feeling. He grasped the desk to steady himself. 

The man didn’t need more than that. Grabbing the desk chair by its back, he wheeled it over to Stede, between them. 

“Here, sit down.” Stede sank into the chair and instinctively bent over at the waist, facing the floor. Air was getting harder to take in, and he was starting to panic. 

The man crouched down in front of him. “I’m just going to quickly take your pulse, alright?” He gently pulled Stede’s right arm out from between his chest and his legs, and pressed two fingers into the inside of his wrist, looking intently at a large, scuffed-up watch on his other hand.

Stede watched this happen while feeling as though he was vibrating along the outline of his body; almost outside of himself but not entirely. Looking down at his wrist, he noticed that the man’s fingernails were painted a deep, forest green. It occurred to him that they were profoundly beautiful, and in that moment, the only things that actually felt real. He tried to hold on to that as he struggled for air.

Seemingly satisfied with Stede's pulse, the man sat back and looked at Stede, his head cocked to the side. 

“Is there any pain?” he asked, the epitome of calm. 

Stede shook his head. “No. Am I dying?” he whispered. 

“No no, you’re alright, just having a… moment. So – try to slow down a bit. Think deep, comfortable breaths.” The man shifted so he was leaning against the desk at Stede’s side. “Alright if I touch your back?”

Stede nodded, still hyperventilating. His hand flat, the man started patting the space between his shoulder blades. Alternating between that and rubbing that same spot in broad circles, he spoke to Stede, his voice soft and low. 

“So this is going to help get your nervous system back online,” he explained. “Your brain and body are having a bit of a panic, and we need to convince them that you're safe. And you are, mate. This’ll all pass in a minute.” 

Similar to his experience with the fingernails, Stede found he was able to focus on the gentle, rhythmic feeling of the man’s hand on his back. The tightening began to ease, and he could breathe a little easier. Suddenly, silent tears burst forth and began to stream down his face. It felt… OK. More of a release, like a runny nose, rather than weeping. He wouldn’t have been able to stop them either way. 

“Good, keep going. Comfy breaths, nice and slow. Be right back.” The man disappeared into the bathroom, returning with water and a washcloth. 

“Here. Drink it all, but take small sips,” he instructed as Stede took the cup in both hands. He set the washcloth on the desk to Stede’s left. 

The man stepped back then, sat on the edge of the bed opposite Stede, and waited. When the cup was empty, Stede was finally taking what he would call comfortable breaths. He felt so heavy, the opposite of how he’d been only moments ago. His neck and shoulders ached. He wiped his face, breathing in the warmth. 

“Better?” 

Stede nodded. “Yes, a bit. Thanks.”

“No sweat, I get it. Anxiety can be a real bummer.” He held out a hand. “I’m Ed, by the way.” 

Stede set the washcloth on the desk and did the same. 

“Stede.”

###

It took a few more minutes and another cup of water for Stede to fully gain back his faculties, but Ed seemed in no hurry. Offering to hang back until Stede felt 100% again, Ed had noticed his belongings spread out on the bed, he was now busy rifling through them. 

“Look at all this great stuff,” Ed exclaimed. He swung around, holding a strange, long aluminum carafe. “Is this for coffee?” 

“That’s actually a cafe-style espresso maker,” Stede corrected. “I uh, brought it for when we camp.”

“A cafe-style espresso maker,” Ed repeated, lifting the lid with his thumb. He set that down and picked up Stede’s GPS watch, which he’d guiltily removed earlier that afternoon. 

“Your gear is something else, man. I’ve honestly never seen anything like it. Did you pack a water bladder and a vest with a built-in canteen?”

“Well. It’s important to stay hydrated,” Stede replied. 

Stede observed Ed as he tried on the vest and continued his rummaging, testing out mini salt and pepper mills and flipping through a waterproof notebook. It didn’t feel like Ed was making fun of him. No, he genuinely seemed to be… interested?

“Want to see something else?” Stede ventured, trying to sound casual. Ed, now wearing Stede’s solar-powered headlamp in addition to the vest, looked interested, so Stede stood up and slid open the closet. It was packed with the latest in moisture-wicking, bug-repelling, sun-reflecting technical gear. On the floor were not one but four pairs of hiking boots, in varying styles. Stede watched as Ed took it all in, from the boots and the jackets to the selection of hats sitting on the top shelf. 

“You bought all this for the trip?”

“I actually already had it onhand,” Stede said. “I'm told I can be a bit obsessed with this stuff. I probably read too many adventure novels growing up. All the great explorers had amazing skills, gear… I don’t know,” he trailed off with a shrug. 

"This is amazing. No, really-,” Ed said, seeing Stede shaking his head. “The people I usually work with – they take themselves way too seriously. All anyone cares about anymore is selling tours, TripAdvisor ratings, new trends to make travel more 'sustainable,' 'experiential,' fucking 'cultural,'" Ed dropped back onto the edge of the bed. "Everybody says travel is their passion, but it doesn't feel that way anymore.

"And here you come with your water bladder and your solar bank and your closet full of Patagonia and smart luggage. Look, you’ve got two Leathermans! That’s overkill. And you've brought a bivy sack, on a coach tour, with 5-star hotel stays." You're a fucking lunatic and I like it."

“Well thank you, but it's not what it looks like,” Stede admitted. “Izzy may have told you, I don’t have a lot of – or any – experience as a guide… Honestly, I might not be cut out for it at all.”

Stede told Ed everything. About the rooms, the certifications, about Frenchie, Roach, Oluwande and Jim, and about Lucius. 

“...And I don’t know any outdoor survival! I can’t provide any local recommendations, I certainly wouldn't know what to do if someone was having a panic attack,” Stede exclaimed. "I didn’t even have a first aid kit until about an hour ago.” 

Ed flopped  backward on the bed, tossing Stede's portable ice cream ball in the air. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about any of that. Most of the guides I know - they’re fully certified but damned if they’re any good in an emergency.”

“But what am I like in an emergency? I have no idea! How am I going to make sure that all goes smoothly if I don’t even know what I don’t know? I thought I'd solved these  rooming issues but somehow I've made them worse!"

Ed gave him a frank look. “These things never go perfectly, no matter who’s in charge. Listen, Stede, I’ve done more tours than I can count. As long as you double check your bookings, listen to the guests when they bitch about stuff and always have extra water on hand, you’ll be doing a hell of a lot better than most.”

Stede put his head in his hands. “I haven’t got any water.” When he looked back up, Ed had a strange expression on his face. 

“Here's what we're going to do."

The welcome dinner was a Bonnet Adventures signature experience, complete with an impressive buffet spread set in a private room in the hotel restaurant. As they had dozens of times before, the staff had set out place cards and Bonnet Adventure-branded welcome baskets, containing branded water bottles, notebooks and a thank you card written by the marketing department, but signed by Edward Bonnet. 

The guests filtered in around 6:55PM and after taking a gander at the buffet, found their seats. They knew the drill; they’d all done this sort of dinner before, too. 

“Has anyone met the guide yet?” Frenchie asked everyone in general. “Stede?”

“We were texting with him earlier,” Jim said. “Seemed OK.”

“Well we’re not OK,” Lucius commented, picking through the welcome basket. “I told him our room was horrible, and he didn’t even bother to text me back.”

“Honestly, when I saw his last name I thought we might be getting VIP treatment,” Swede said. “But then we don’t even get our own rooms?”

“You're doubled up too?” John asked from across the table. “Though to be honest I’m so jetlagged, I could sleep in the hall.”

“Go for it man,” Frenchie grumbled.

“All’s I know is, we passed on a luxury cruise on the Nile for this trip, so this better be worth it.” Pete said. 

“Oh, I think it will be. Ed Teach is leading the trekking bits,” Oluwande said. “We toured with him last year and it was cracker. He really knows his stuff.”

“We did the Ball Pass Crossing with him at Mt Cook, and a washout had fucked up the trail,” Jim added. “We thought we wouldn’t get to finish, but he literally carved a new trail around it. We ended up scaling an actual glacier – it was awesome.”

“I heard that when some kid got lost down in Tongariro, they called him in to lead the search party,” Roach ventured. “And I had a client who did an expedition with him in Antarctica – his zodiac was the only one that managed to find orcas that week.”

“Exactly, it’s like adventure seeks him out,” Oluwande said. “Man’s a legend.”

“I hope so, because I’m supposed to be writing about hardcore adventures in Aotearoa,” Frenchie replied. “So a guide with actual adventuring experience would be nice.”

###

The guests had all agreed they would attack the buffet as soon as the clock struck 7, whether or not the guides had arrived. A few had begun to stand when two outdoorsy-looking people wearing lanyards filed in together. 

Lucius stood quickly, clearly ready to continue his conversation. 

"Remember - they need you more than you need them," Ed muttered to Stede as they approached the table. Stede nodded and took a deep breath. 

"Good evening all!" Stede. "I'm Stede, and I'll be your guide this week. I'm delighted to welcome you all to Aotearoa! I'm sure some of you already know Ed Teach, who will be taking the lead on the cultural and adventure aspects of the trip. We're both very much looking forward to showing you all our beautiful country!"

There was a variety of hellos and waves from the table.

“Excuse me Stede, we need to continue our conversation about the room situation-” Lucius said before being cut off by Stede. 

“Ah yes, you've been having a problem with your free hotel room?” Stede asked cheerfully, and loudly enough for everyone to hear. “You said it’s too small to sleep in, and you need a bigger, nicer room, is that right?” 

Lucius glanced at the others at the table, aware his complaints were now on display in front of people who, he now knew, didn't have their own rooms.

“Well it’s just - we make videos of all the hotels we stay in, and it’s just not a very impressive setup for - for what our followers are used to,” he explained. 

"I completely understand," Stede assured him. “I’ll speak to the hotel GM and have them send some video footage of an executive suite for you to post online tomorrow.”

Lucius looked predictably dissatisfied.

"Of course if you're still uncomfortable," Stede continued, seeing Ed give him a subtle nod out of the corner of his eye, "we’ll all," Stede gestured to the room, "understand if you can’t continue with the trip." 

Pete hurried over to Lucius’ side. 

“No that's… great. Everything is… fantastic. Thanks Stede.”

"Glad we got that sorted out," Ed said loudly. He grabbed a bottle of wine from the centre of the table. "Now who needs a drink? I know I do." 

The guests all introduced themselves to Ed as he filled their glasses. Stede stepped a little closer to Lucius and Pete. 

"I understand this isn't the outcome you wanted, but Bonnet Adventures would be thrilled to host you both for an additional night in Queenstown," Stede said. "Perhaps you'd enjoy a private jet boat ride, with a barbecue lunch?" 

"You could arrange that?"  Lucius asked. 

"Well of course," Stede replied. "After all Lucius, it is my company."

Pete leaned slightly into Lucius. "Thanks Stede, we'll let you know." 

“Excellent." Stede turned to the table. "OK, who here is Oluwande?" 

Before everyone had finished filling their plates, Stede had, carefully following Ed's instructions, smoothed over every wrinkle with the aplomb of a seasoned professional. He’d agreed to set Oluwande and Jim up with local guides at each stop on the first leg of the tour, assuring them new experiences to take home. He had charmed Rory (“Call me Roach, all my friends do”) and Swede into enduring a night together, slipping Rory a small bottle of something brown to “help with the night terrors.” 

Frenchie had been promised his own room by the end of the night, although Stede still wasn’t sure how Ed thought they'd manage that. Regardless, everyone seemed much more congenial, thanks in no small part to Ed passing around the bar menu, making sure everyone was well lubricated. 

The group also seemed to respond to Ed’s irreverent confidence. He gave them all a breakdown of what to expect from the trip ("Some of the trekking can get pretty intense, but there'll be a few nice, easy nights in really beautiful spots as well"), answered any adventure-related questions ("Just how challenging is the Tongariro Alpine Crossing?") and when that was all through, broke out some pretty impressive stories from his travels, which triggered a travel story trading session. Everyone travelled for a living, so they all had a few good tales to tell. Stede was content to sit back and listen, and forget about everything that happened before dinner. 

The evening didn’t last long; everyone was keen to get some sleep. They trickled out into the lobby, where Stede bid people goodnight, then waited by the front desk while Ed finished up a conversation with Roach and Pete, who had really warmed up to him, about Huka Falls. 

After they’d left, Ed came up to Stede, and led him to the clerk at the front desk. 

“Hey mate, so we have a few things that need doing,” Ed said casually. “We’re going to need housekeeping in about half an hour to room 304, to do a total reset – beds, bathroom, all of it.” The clerk placed a brief call and then confirmed it would be done.

“Anything else sir?”

“Oh yeah one more thing,” Ed said, leaning on the counter with both arms and grinning at Stede. “We’re heading out really early tomorrow so I’m going to need a wakeup call for about…” Ed thought for a moment. “4AM. Name’s Lucius Spriggs.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Stede gaped at Ed.

“Alright mate?” he said as the clerk walked away. "Wasn't such a bad night, was it?" 

“Are you serious with that wakeup call?” Stede asked in disbelief. “He’s going to be furious.”

Ed shrugged. “Wakeup calls happen by accident all the time. Look Stede,” he said, now serious. “As tour guides, we have to expect to eat a pretty decent amount of shit – just comes with the territory. But that doesn’t mean you can let them run wild. You gotta keep in mind that you’re their guide, not their butler.”

Stede nodded, understanding. “But wait – how does waking Lucius up at 4AM help with that?”

“Oh it doesn’t,” Ed grinned again. “That was just for me.”

“I honestly can’t believe any of that just happened. How did you know just what to do?” Stede asked.

Ed looked amused. “I didn't do anything, you did."

“You know what I mean – you just solved everyone’s problems and charmed them, all over dinner!” Stede exclaimed. “You're a real pro, Ed.”

Ed shook his head. “Nah, it’s nothing- but now you’ve seen what’s basically two-thirds of your job. We’re dealing with creative types and people who spend all their time planning other people’s vacations. They just want to feel heard.” 

"Besides,” he continued, “bloggers like Pete and Lucius are more bark than bite - they make their living being hosted on trips, so they need to have good relationships with the companies who invite them. Sometimes they just need to be reminded of that. Plus, you piss them off, you're really only pissing off their followers, which are what– about 15 thousand people?

"Real journalists writing for legitimate publications with ten million readers on the other hand…” He nodded toward Frenchie, who had hung back and was sitting in the lobby on his phone. 

Just then, Izzy arrived, having enjoyed a night of room service and quiet, ever grateful he didn't need to do the welcome dinner. 

"I got your text," he said to Ed. "What's up?" 

“Hey, Iz!” Ed said cheerfully, gesturing to Frenchie, who headed over. “Pack up your shit. We’re bunking with Stede tonight.”

Chapter Text

Sometimes, in the fuzzy, final moments before waking, before Ed opened his eyes – before he was even fully aware of who he was – there was dread.

It lived in his throat, in his chest, in his head. It would pass through him, weightless and dense like a fog, obscuring the difference between pleasure, pain, tears, rage, and nothing. It would sink, heavy like lead and spreading like paraffin into any place where there was light, and choke it out. 

Sometimes, in this sinister sliver of time, Ed took comfort in this feeling. With dread, there was no room for anything else – and although he knew, logically, that this wasn’t necessarily good for him, it could be… kind of nice to be engulfed in something so uncomplicated. 

Then, as the gravity of reality – usually in the form of some work, which was never over – grew stronger, beckoning him back into the light and all the terrible truths that come with it, Ed would feel that dread withdraw, cool and phlegmatic, into some unknown region of his person, where it would lay, quiet and ever-present, in wait until the next. 

On the first morning of the trekking tour, however, Ed was jolted awake by the aggressive pinging of his phone. 

STEDE TEXTING GROUP CHAT

6:45AM

Morning all! 

And what a glorious morning it is, with clear skies and a perfect temperature of 18°C (64°F if you prefer the Imperial system)! 

Today, we begin our grand adventure, kicking off with visits to some magnificent waterfalls via Whirinaki Forest Park, Huka Falls and Tongariro National Park! I’ve taken the liberty of creating a group chat so we can all keep connected, and I’ve re-attached the itinerary for the next week, for ease of reference. 

A reminder that we are departing from the lobby at 9AM sharp. Our very capable driver, Izzy Hands, will be onhand (ha!) to assist with your luggage. 

As always, if you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to direct them my way.

I hope you’re all ready for an unforgettable journey!

“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”
— Bilbo Baggins

IZZY TEXTING ED

Izzy: Are you up yet
Ed: If I say yes will you bring me a tea
Izzy: You can get your own damn tea. 
Ed: Then I'm still sleeping 
Izzy: Gtf up
Ed: You're not my real dad
Izzy: Assuming you haven't applied for Europe gig yet. 
Ed: I've been busy since you reminded me about it yesterday 
Izzy: Busy drinking 
Ed: Oops
Izzy: You're going to be even busier the next few days, so best get on it before that happens.
Ed: I'll do it on the bus 

STEDE TEXTING ED

Stede: Morning! Coming up to grab my bags shortly, want a coffee? Or are you more of a tea person? 

###

“Nope - no,” Izzy had said last night, after they’d moved their things into Stede’s room and Ed had pulled three beers out of a paper bag. 

“If you’re going to stay up all night gabbing, you need to get the fuck out. I’m going to sleep so I can wake up from this nightmare as soon as fucking possible.”

“He’s not a fan of me is he,” Stede had asked once they’d taken the beers into the parking lot. 

“He’s not really a fan of anyone, I wouldn’t take it personally.”

They did stay up way too late. Stede told Ed about how it had always been his dream to travel, how he loved the idea of meeting and connecting with new people over shared adventure. 

Ed talked about how he was getting sick of it all, from the rotating door of tourists who rarely seemed to care about anything beyond their next selfie, to the trips he’d been leading for years – which never really seemed to change. 

Stede said he understood where he was coming from; he felt that way about the office. Ed could get where Stede was coming from too; he had memories of loving to guide in the beginning – however vague.

What struck Ed was how Stede had flung himself headfirst into what he’d wanted at the earliest opportunity, and was figuring it out as he went. And as naive as he seemed about some things, he really wore his heart on his sleeve. 

Neither were things Ed could really relate to, which made Stede all the more fascinating. 

It was after midnight when they finally crept back into the room so as not to wake Izzy. After Stede had passed out on his bed by the window, Ed was unable to sleep. As it often did on a first trip night, when he'd had to meet a bunch of new people, his mind was too busy trying to process everything that had happened in the last eight hours. 

It wasn’t until he’d turned onto his side to face Stede, who was silhouetted by the light coming in through the window, and watched as he drew in the big, comfortable breaths of sleep, that Ed was finally able to drift off. 

###

Stede’s table set up was indicative of how long he’d been up. He was tapping away on his laptop and sipping tea, with used plates and bowls scattered to his left. At his feet were two large jugs of water, and a grocery bag spilling over with energy bars. 

“Morning Ed! How’d you sleep?” he asked as Ed sat down opposite him with tea and toast. 

“Alright I guess. Forgot how badly Izzy snores though, sorry about that.” 

“Oh, I barely heard a thing. Is that all you’re having?” Stede asked, nodding at Ed’s plate. “I probably ate too much, but I thought if we’re hiking today, I’d want the energy.”

“Honestly, I’ve eaten so many hotels it's all pretty disgusting at this point. Toast is safe."

Stede unzipped his backpack on the chair beside him and rummaged around while Ed tipped most of the sugar bowl into his tea. “Not sure if you like marmalade… aha!” He handed Ed a small jar of something electric orange. 

“Try this,” he said. “It’s the. best. marmalade I’ve ever had. I brought about five jars.”

The label was handpainted and the lid was decorated with a gingham square of fabric, fastened with an orange ribbon. Ed looked from it to Stede. Who was this cheery man decked out in professional-grade Arcteryx, but had never spent a single night in the wild? Who was this intensely anxious man, who’d packed a backcountry firestarter and gourmet fucking marmalade? 

“I’ll give it a try, thanks.” he asked, unscrewing the lid and sniffing its contents (his mouth watered). “So, how are we feeling about today?” 

“We are feeling excellent,” Stede answered assertively. “I double checked the itinerary, phoned ahead to the next hotel, I’ve stocked up on snacks and water for the bus ride, and I even sent everyone a little morning greeting.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Ed grinned, slathering his toast. 

“I thought it might be a nice way to start each day. After all, a good guide is equal parts imaginative, inspiring, and informative,” Stede recited.

“Where’d you hear that?” Ed asked, his mouth full. It was damn good marmalade. 

Stede smiled like he had a dirty secret. “Let’s just say I’ve been doing some research.”

It was the first of what Izzy assumed would be several aspirins that day. After Edward had given their – his – room away to the journalist, Izzy had been relegated to the sofa in Bonnet’s room - and it had absolutely fucked his back. 

Izzy checked his watch. He’d been up before either of them, and after doing the requisite morning maintenance check on the coach, had been able to enjoy tea and a roll from the comfort of his driver’s seat. 

It was a ritual, of sorts. The only part of the day where he could sit in silence without having to think about head counts and gas mileage and whether the GPS was full of shit. 

It was about 8:30AM, so he drew a deep breath, reminded himself to smile more, and stepped out of the coach, ready to load the first of the bags into the hold. 

By 9AM, nobody had arrived yet. 

IZZY TEXTING STEDE

Izzy: We should be loading up the coach now. Where is everyone? Where are you?

###

“Bonnet!” 

Bonnet paused from the chat he was having with Oluwande, Jim and Ed and turned to see Izzy marching across the lobby toward him. 

“Good morning Izzy! Did you sleep well?”

“No. Where the fuck is everyone?”

“Well the agents are all down here, I believe Mr. Oach – did you know he likes to be called ‘Roach?’ – just nipped into the restaurant to grab some breakfast for the road…. Frenchie is checking out, and John is….” Bonnet scanned the lobby as John stepped out of the lobby restroom. “Right there! I haven’t seen Lucius and Pete yet.” 

“What time did you tell them they needed to be on the coach?”

“Well, I told them we were departing the lobby at 9AM,” Bonnet checked his watch. “And it’s just 9 now.”

Izzy pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He reminded himself to breathe. 

“It’s 9:03, which means we should already be on the road.”

Bonnet shrugged. “Well it’s the first morning, everyone’s still pretty tired from travelling, I expect that they’ll all be a little sluggish. But we can make it up elsewhere during the day, right?”

As Izzy opened his mouth to respond, Lucius and Pete appeared, depositing their bags at Izzy’s feet. 

“Morning,” Pete said. “Just going to grab a coffee and we’ll be good to go.”

“We need to get going,” Izzy said reproachfully. They stopped and looked at Bonnet, who shook his head like Izzy had told a hilarious joke and sent them off with a "there’s always time for coffee.”

Izzy watched them go. He cleared his throat and cracked his neck, then tried again.

“Everybody knows, when you’re dealing with a group of travelers, you need to always, always tell them to be somewhere 15 minutes before they actually need to be somewhere,” he explained.

Bonnet frowned. “Well that seems manipulative. Why on earth would we do that?”

“To make time for things like tardiness, traffic and general bullshit like that,” Izzy exclaimed, pointing to a retreating Lucius and Pete. Suddenly, the injustice of it was too much. He was just trying to do his fucking job. 

“Otherwise,” he continued, “the guests will take their time, sip their tea, have a nice lie-in, maybe a chat, and the next thing you know, we’re a day behind schedule and the guests aren’t getting the experience they paid for because Little Johnny spent an hour buying sunnies at the petrol station!” 

The others had noticed Izzy and Bonnet’s exchange by now, and were making half-hearted attempts at conversation, pretending not to be watching as Izzy’s diatribe got louder and louder. Bonnet, who had remained expressionless for Izzy’s tirade, paused before responding. 

“Alright Mr. Hands, I can certainly appreciate the importance of keeping to the schedule. I’ll be mindful to pad the timings more in the future. But can you appreciate the need for everyone here to feel a sense of flexibility – especially on the first morning of the trip? I may still be learning but even I know that staff arguing before 9AM–”

“It’s after 9” Izzry grumbled.

“– Arguing at all, really, is bad for the general vibe around here. Are we in agreement?”

Izzy nodded stiffly. 

“Morning all!” Bonnet suddenly boomed over Izzy’s head, side-stepping him to address the others.

Izzy cast a look at Edward, who tilted his head slightly, as if to say he has a point. 

He snatched Pete and Lucius’ suitcases and stormed back to the bus. 

###

“If everyone would follow Mr. Hands to the bus, we’ll be on our way!” Stede called, letting Frenchie and Roach go ahead of him. 

Lucius and Pete arrived with their coffee. Seeing Stede lingering behind the group, taking a headcount, Pete gently nudged Lucius with his shoulder. With a roll of his eyes, Lucius dragged his feet over to Stede. 

“Good morning Lucius! Ready to get the show on the road?” 

Lucius winced at Stede’s exuberance, and took a deep breath. 

“Stede, I… wanted to,” Lucius let his head loll to one side, his shoulders slack. “Apologize,” his eyes travelled back to Pete, then back again, “for… everything… yesterday. It’s just, I’m very jet lagged, and… I had low blood sugar, and it just made me…”

“Horrifying?” John offered as he made his way to the coach.  

“Lose perspective,” Lucius glared at John. “And for that, I’m sorry. But the truth is I’m very grateful to have the opportunity to be on this tour, and I… just wanted you to know that.”

“Well that’s very nice of you Lucius, but totally unnecessary,” Stede replied. “Fielding guest concerns are all part of the job description, and I appreciate you being so forthright about yours.” 

Stede watched Lucius board the bus and cast a surprised look at Ed, who had been watching from across the lobby. Slowly and simultaneously, Ed raised his eyebrows and gave Stede a subtle thumbs-up. Stede beamed back; two thumbs way up.

Chapter Text

MAP FROM ROTORUA TO WHIRINAKI FALLS

The drive to Whirinaki Forest Park would take roughly an hour. The perfect amount of time to settle in, take in some scenery, and…

“-play an icebreaker!” Stede announced, standing at the front of the bus. 

LUCIUS TEXTING NON-GUIDE GROUP CHAT

Lucius: Please god no
Jim: NOPE
Swede: Nobody move. 
John: His vision’s not based on movement 
Frenchie: I'm pretending to be asleep
Oluwande: Let’s just say no. We’re allowed to say no?
Roach: Wouldn’t be so sure about that…
Pete: Oh god, he brought props

###

Ed was sitting at the very front with his leg stretched out, back against the window, watching as Stede explained to the group how to play something called “Guess Who.” Moments earlier, he had warned Stede this may not be the crowd for games. 

“Kelsey from Be a Better Guide.com says: ‘A good guide encourages mingling,’” Stede replied. “And, I want to kick things off on a high note.”

“Yeah, I get that, but…,” Ed looked around. Everyone had spread out, and were either on their phones or looking out the window. “I dunno if they’ll be up for it.” He didn’t mention that really, it was he who wasn’t up for it. 

“Enthusiasm is contagious,” Stede reasoned. 

“Did Kelsey say that too?”

And he was half-right; the current vibe was decidedly “begrudging compliance,” but they hadn’t shut him down, either.

Stede handed him a pen and a slip of paper. 

“Here, write down something interesting about yourself. When we’re finished, I'll read them out and we all guess who each fact belongs to. Oh, try not to pick anything travel-related. Too obvious!” 

Stede was gone as quickly as he’d appeared, and Ed grappled with how annoying he found this. He hazarded a glance at the driver’s mirror and of course, Izzy was there, looking back at him. He tilted his head to the side slightly, as if to say I fucking told you so.

###

Stede settled back into his own seat across the aisle from Ed and pondered his interesting fact. He decided to go with “speaks eclesiastical Latin.”

His phone started to vibrate.

It was his father. 

Stede fumbled with the phone to reject the call.

Almost immediately after, an email notification popped up.

JEFFREY EMAILING STEDE

Things are fine with your inbox, but your dad’s in the office with Nigel right now with Hornberry and Wellington. I can’t say for sure, but I’m pretty sure they’re in the shit. Just an FYI - thought you might want to know. Hope you’re having fun otherwise!

- Jeffrey

###

“Stede, what if we can’t decide between two interesting facts?” Swede called out. Stede stashed his phone into his bag and put on a large smile. 

“Do both!” 

###

By the end, Ed had to admit - the stupid game was a bit of fun. Swede and John had warmed up to the idea pretty quickly, and by the time Stede had collected everyone’s bits of paper, the others had come around, too, straddling the line between curiosity about others and a desire to be known.

“Ooh, this one’s a goodie,” Stede looked up. “I bake a cake with a 40-orange glaze that wins ‘best dessert’ at my hometown fair every year. Guesses, anyone?”

So far, they’d learned that Roach baked, Jim liked to throw knives in their spare time, and that Oluwande had a degree in psychology. Swede loved to sing and puppeteering. Pete knew how to whittle and Lucius had an Etsy store where he sold nude sketches (“You all laugh but I’ll sketch most of you before the week is out!”) Frenchie admitted to being a bit of a virtuoso with the guitar, while John had his own fashion line (“It’s just something I mess around with back in New York”). 

They’d all guessed Stede’s immediately. 

Ed hadn’t known what to write, so when Stede came to collect his paper, he'd scribbled the first thing to come to his head that wasn’t travel-related. But now, his was last, so there’d be no guessing, and nobody would go after. He lost his nerve. 

“Stede, we don’t need to-” Stede had unfolded his slip, but paused at the sound of his name. Ed took that moment to grab the scrap out of his hands. “Game’s over, don’t need to do mine.” 

The rest of the bus was now invested, and erupted in protest.

“Come on Ed, fair’s fair, we all did it!” Stede took the slip back, scanned it, then paused and looked back at Ed. 

In the very next moment, the bus came to a violent lurch of a stop, forcing Stede to grab hold of the seat backs in front of him to avoid falling over. 

“Bathroom break,” Izzy called out. “Five minutes!”

“And that’s a taut five,” Stede called as people headed to the exit. Turning to follow them, Stede handed the slip of paper back to Ed without a word. 

Ed followed him, pausing on the driver’s landing just long enough to drop it in Izzy’s outstretched hand. It was then unceremoniously deposited into a half-finished cup of coffee. 

###

When they were a few minutes out from Whirinaki, it was Ed’s turn to stand up. 

“OK everybody, so we’re about to enter Whirinaki Te Pua-a-Tāne Conservation Park,” he announced. “Which is, in my opinion, easily one of the most beautiful places on the North Island. It covers 60,000 hectares, and it’s most famous for what’s called its podocarp trees, which are a species so ancient, they actually evolved before flowering plants even existed."

Ed noticed that Stede, sitting at his elbow, mesmerized. 

"Uh, that said, about 1800 years ago, a volcanic eruption wiped out a huge amount of land here, so the trees you’re going to see today are younger than that." 

Stede was actually a little distracting. Had he never heard this before? No, of course he hadn't. Ed pressed on. 

“In terms of wildlife, there’s a lot of rare birds, including the North Island brown kiwi, North Island kākā, the blue duck, and the kārearea, an endangered falcon. There’s not much in the way of native mammals – mostly bats – but thanks to colonization, the gift that keeps on giving, we’ve also got red deer, pigs and possums, cats and rats, which are invasive species and basically just walk around devastating the plant life and eating all our rare birds, so.”

Ed paused for a moment, considered his next words carefully, and continued. 

Ngāti Whare, the local iwi – or local nation of Māori – have been in this region for over 700 years. They practice kaitiakitanga, which means guardianship; they do a ton of work to keep the area safe from things like disease, degradation and overtourism.”

He paused again, as though waiting for something, then continued on.

“We’ve got a big day today, so we’ll be doing Waiatiu Falls, which will take roughly an hour. But there’s a track that takes three days to complete, which I highly recommend if you ever find yourself back this way again. Any questions?”

Stede’s hand shot straight up.

###

Even Ed’s description couldn’t have prepared the group for how beautiful the Whirinaki Forest was. Save for Oluwande and Jim, who Ed had handed over to a local guide, Fang, in Murapara, the entire group set out on the trail with awestruck expressions. 

It was like something out of the Jurassic period; ancient, towering trees cloaked in moss, fern fronds peppering the forest floor. Sun streamed through the canopy to light the trailhead, and the air was a cacophony of bird song. 

“This is unbelievable!” Stede said to Ed, who was stuffing cookies and tupperwares of cut fruit into his pack. “I can’t believe this and Queenstown are in the same country!”

“Pass me that juice?” Ed pointed at a tumbler stuffed into a plastic bin in the baggage hold of the coach. 

“OK so what’s the plan,” Stede asked, passing him the tumbler and then turning around so Ed could put it into his backpack. 

“We usually do a flourish at the end of a hike,” Ed told him, zipping his pack. 

“A flourish?”

“An unplanned moment,” Ed explained. “Something not in the itinerary. Like a surprise stop somewhere, or in this case, a snack at the base of a waterfall. 'Flourish' is just the industry term.'”

Stede spun around with a look on his face that said he had clearly never heard of anything so delightful in his life. 

###

Ed led the group into the forest, with Stede bringing up the rear. They took their time, stopping every few minutes so Ed could explain the biology of some greenery, or point out a rare bird in the trees. It wasn’t a bad group so far; Lucius and Pete asked good questions, and Frenchie took plenty of notes whenever Ed provided an interpretation. John was behind his camera for the most part, thrilled at the bird life. 

When they arrived at the waterfall, the group spread out to take selfies, record content and the like, while Ed and Stede set up the flourish on a bench at the base of the viewing platform. 

Ed arranged the cookies in a fan-like format along the length of the rectangular tray, set out the juice, and placed a smooth rock on top of a pile of napkins to keep them blowing away. It was always a pain to do these, but they were also always a hit with guests. 

"All set?" he asked Stede. Stede didn't answer. His back was to Ed. "Stede?" 

Stede twirled around, tray in hand. "Et voila!" 

Ed blinked. He was staring at an impossibly ornate arrangement of fruits.

"Wow." 

"I just thought, it's a flourish, so go big or go home, right?"  Stede admired his creation. 

Ed ran his hand through his hair. He didn't know what to say about the fruit plate. In that moment, his brain was busy grappling with the look on Stede's face and the realization that he found it completely fucking adorable. 

"It's brilliant," Ed managed, taking the tray and carefully setting it down. Stede nodded in agreement; he knew. 

###

As the group helped themselves to juice and snacks, Ed and Stede wandered to the edge of the viewing platform for a better look at the falls, and the blue-green pool below. 

"So uh, what other hidden talents do you have that you plan to roll out this week?" Ed asked, indicating back to the fruit tray. 

"I don't know!" Stede admitted. "I sort of surprised myself there."

They leaned on the railing of the platform in silence for a moment, taking in the powerful rush of the water in front of them and the muffled chatter of the group behind them. 

"Speaking of talents," Stede said casually. "Mind if I ask you something?" 

Ed braced himself. "Sure." 

Stede checked over his shoulder to ensure the group was well occupied. "Why didn't you want anyone to know your interesting fact?" 

Ed didn't respond. 

"I only ask because, well, cooking is a pretty common skill," Stede reasoned, trying to tread lightly. "And you seemed so set on nobody knowing…?" 

Ed shrugged. "Ugh, I dunno mate. People sign up to travel with the Ed Teach who climbs mountains and treks through jungles. Plum wine reductions are not very… adventurey." 

Stede looked skeptical. "I don't know about that. Maybe they'd like getting to know their guides as people." 

Ed frowned at him. "Do you really believe that?" 

Stede gave a small shrug. "I think they’ve signed up to do things that push them outside their comfort zone, and knowing some personal details about their guides might help them trust us more… and that might make them feel safer.”

Ed considered this. He'd actually never really thought of it like that.

"I mean, isn’t travel supposed to be all about expanding on the way you see the world?." Stede paused a moment, reflecting. "And for what it's worth, my first thought when I saw it was 'wow, he’s also a chef? What can’t this guy do?" 

Ed watched Stede out of the corner of his eye. He was still leaning on the railing, gazing at the waterfall, a peaceful expression on his face. He caught Ed's eye. 

"But I won't tell anyone," he said. “Not if you don’t want anyone to know.” Then- "do you really make plum wine reductions?" 

Ed hesitated. "I like sauces.” 

“Well I'd love to try one some time," Stede replied. 

Ed felt a bit ill. Because he travelled so much, he almost never had a chance to actually do any cooking that wasn't over a fire, or made from dehydrated ingredients. This meant he could count the number of people who knew about this on one hand. It felt uncomfortable to share it. 

But then Stede smiled at him, a warm smile that made him feel very seen, and he realized it wasn't nausea – it was butterflies. 

"Hey Ed, do you mind doing a video with Pete and I about the history of the park?" Lucius asked as he approached. "Maybe we can do it in front of the waterfall?" 

The remainder of the day was more of the same. After lunch in Taupō, the group checked out Huka Falls, which was more crowded and touristy than Whirinaki Forest but no less beautiful, then headed onward to Tongariro National Park, where they were staying in the nearby village. 

"Once we arrive, we'll be embarking on a two-hour hike to Taranaki Falls,” Ed informed the group. 

“This will only be a very small taste of what to expect from our trek tomorrow on the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, which will be eight hours, starting at sunrise. For now, we’ll hike to the waterfall and loop back.”

"This'll be our last waterfall stop for a while, so drink it in!" Stede added, pausing to let the pun settle in. 

Only Roach and Izzy responded, with Roach pointing at Stede with an approving “heyyy!”, and Izzy groaning “oh my fucking god” from the driver’s seat. 

Stede settled back into his seat, victory attained. 

LUCIUS TO NON-GUIDE GROUP CHAT

Lucius: My god, the puns
Pete: I know
Roach: I like them. 
Olu: What’s happening?
John: You don’t want to know. 
Frenchie: What’ve you two been doing
Jim: Can’t talk, doing very cool shit you've only dreamed of 
Frenchie: Come ON
Jim: muahaha

###

“Before we head in,” Ed continued, suppressing both an eye roll and a smile at the same time, “I’ll just give some quick info about the park, because understanding the meaning of the land, I believe, influences how you experience it. 

“To Māori, Tongariro is tapu – or sacred. The mountain itself is considered both our ancestor and is central to some of our most deeply held spiritual and cultural beliefs.

A Māori rangatira – leader – who understood just how much of a threat colonization was to the wellbeing of the land, had it preserved as a national park in 1982."

"Isn't it also a UNESCO site?" Roach asked, hand half-raised. 

"Yes," Ed clapped. It was only the first day but the group was pretty engaged - the upside to having a tour group full of travel professionals, rather than tourists. 

"In 1993, it became the first UNESCO World Heritage site designated as a 'cultural landscape,' in recognition of the spiritual connection between the Māori community and our environment. 

The Ngati Rangi, Ngati Tuwharetoa and Ngati Tahu iwi of the region are all consulted on any management matters related to the park, especially on ways to protect the park from the 60,000 people who visit it each year. 

That’s the broad strokes,” Ed finished, “but if you’re interested in the Māori origin story around the park, I’m happy to share it with you on the hike in.”

The hike to the falls was much different than the last two stops, which had been all lush, verdant rainforest surroundings and coursing blue-green water. 

This trail, which was located in the Ruapehu region, was almost desolate, like an open tundra. It was no less breathtaking; the sky was high and bright and flecked with cotton ball clouds. It was clear enough to see Mt Tongariro and Mt Ngauruhoe in the distance. 

###

When they arrived at the waterfall, there were a few other hikers present, picnicking and taking photos. A few brave souls had decided to go for a dip. 

Stede and Ed gave the group a few minutes to gather their media content, then Ed offered to take them behind the waterfall. 

It was a strange dynamic, leading a group of seasoned travelers with a real sense of worldliness about them… and Stede.

His enthusiasm seemed to be inspiring the group's high spirited overall vibe so far, but there was a certain contrariness to the lead guide having never actually been to any of the places they were visiting – and appreciating each of them with a genuine childlike wonderment. 

Stede’s labrador energy was strong as they scrambled over the rocks along the edge of the pool and negotiated their way behind the curtain of water, under a shallow curve of rock. 

With his hands over his ears to brace against the deafening sound of the water hitting the rocks below, he appeared overtaken by the sheer power behind the falls’ movement. 

Ed put a hand on his shoulder as a way of saying “you OK?” amid the roar of the water, but Stede was clearly having the time of his life. 

The group slowly moved beneath the falls and trickled their way back out to the pool, removing their shoes off to dip their toes in the chilly pool and wandering the area, taking in the sights. 

Lucius and Pete hung back, and Stede held the camera for them while they did a quick video of themselves walking through the cavern and marveling at the space. 

Predictably, Stede took his job as a videographer seriously, maneuvering the selfie stick to create some dramatic angles and even going so far as to kneel down on the damp, rocky cavern floor to attain an ultra low-angle for Lucius and Pete’s mock entrance to the space. 

In the span of a day he'd already created some sincere connections with some of the group, and Ed saw that what he lacked in practical experience, he made up for with his ability to endear people. 

Ed hung back behind Stede, not wanting to be in the way, his arms crossed and smirking at the proceedings. Once they were finished, they reviewed the footage, huddled together amidst the misty spray, poking and swiping at Pete’s phone until, satisfied, they rejoined the group outside, leaving Ed behind. 

Once alone, Ed closed his eyes. He welcomed the roar of the water in his ears, he breathed in the dampness of the air, and reaching out, pressed a palm against the cool rock of the cavern wall. 

He stayed there, suspended for a moment in the privacy carved out for him, this precious slice of peace where he could just be. 

It didn’t last long; Ed was jerked back when a group of young men and women scrambled behind the falls. 

Somehow, they managed to be louder than the water, their voices echoing off the walls as they each took turns taking photos in front of the wall of water, directing each other’s poses. 

Then one of them dug out a wireless speaker, and they began to play music and dance - all for the benefit of a video they seemed to be taking. 

Ed, used to having to share the land and his time with others, rolled his eyes and started heading out to where his party had exited. 

He made the rounds to see if members of the group had any questions about the park. To Ed’s surprise, there were several. 

Frenchie and John in particular were very interested in learning more about the volcanoes as they related to Māori lore, approaching Ed with their notebooks and smartphones to record the conversation. 

He was explaining the significance of Ruapehu and Ngauruhoe when he noticed the dancing tourists emerging from the waterfall. 

They were still rowdy, although it wasn’t as disruptive out in the open space of the clearing than it had been in the confines of the cavern. 

Still, something pulled at Ed, and he had to excuse himself from Frenchie and John to return to the place beneath the waterfall. Once inside, he felt a sudden but familiar expansion of dread, like air filling a balloon, in his chest. 

Beer bottles and plastic packaging littered the stone floor of the cavern; it looked as though they’d had a party. There was an abandoned shoe, soggy and forgotten, by the entrance. The balloon suddenly popped, and all Ed was left with was anger. 

He spun around and exited the way he came, in pursuit of the fucking slobs who were already continuing on the trail back to the parking lot. 

“Ed, is there-” Stede’s voice was nothing more than a high-pitched whine in his ears as he passed by. He wasn’t aware of anyone else, and he didn’t realize what he looked like, storming out from behind the waterfall with a blazing intensity in his eyes. He didn’t know who saw, and he didn’t care.

“Hey,” Ed called to tourists. “Hey.” A few of them stopped and turned. 

“You want to go pick up all the shit you left back there?” 

“Uh, what?” One of the offenders looked at him like he was crazy. 

Now that he was standing in front of them, Ed’s inherent awareness of the risks of being an angry brown man kicked in, and his survival instincts recalibrated his self-presentation.

“The bottles, and the plastic and your shoe – who throws away one shoe?” Ed said, still angry but channeling his tour guide persona to be more authoritative in tone. “This is a park, not your dorm room. Go back and clean it up.”

“Oh my god,” another giggled nervously to her friend, who surveyed Ed, clearly amused. 

“Calm down, bud,” he said, holding up a hand as though Ed might take a run at them.

The rage came back then, sweeping Ed up in a lifetime of injustices just like this one. He balled his fists. He was vaguely aware of a presence at his side but the edges of his vision were black. 

Ed felt stuck, like he couldn’t defend the waterfall without risking his own safety – but retreating, just letting it go, was equally unthinkable to him. 

The tourists started backing away from him themselves. They held their hands up, like he was a dangerous animal, but also grinned, like it was all a joke. 

Eventually they turned and continued on their way, laughing to each other and looking back over their shoulders at him.

A different feeling replaced the rage in his chest. Frustration and grief welled up and then lodged in his throat, corked by a sob he needed all his energy to swallow back. Why did they have to be like that? Why did he have to be like this? Why were they able to make him feel like this? Why?

“Ed,” Stede’s voice was soft in his ear, a hand on his arm. “Ed?”

“They-” Ed choked out, then turned away from Stede. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to give in to the tears that were raring to break forward. Pull yourself together, he scolded himself. Be better, get over it. 

It took every ounce of strength, every piece of mind he had, but he managed to push the tangle of feelings all down, down somewhere dark. They'd come back and haunt him later, when he was awake in bed, like they always did. 

But for now, Ed did what he always did when he was overwhelmed: He forced himself to think of the next task, the next job that needed doing. His mind cleared, and he felt himself go numb.

“Let’s get everyone back to the bus,” he said, doubling back to the waterfall, not able to even look at Stede. 

When he returned to the pool, he found the group gathered at its edge, standing over the trash he had last seen behind the falls. Pete was taking a picture. They looked at him with varied expressions he couldn’t quite place. 

“We got it all,” Frenchie said. 

“We thought we’d just take it back to the bus,” Lucius added. 

Ed swallowed and nodded. “I’ve got a bag,” he said, shrugging off his backpack.

To his surprise, the litterbugs were still in the parking lot when they arrived. They were hanging around their car, laughing and talking, showing each other images on their smartphones. The parking lot itself was busy; it was the end of the day, and there were a number of tours as well as families wrapping up and packing into their vehicles.

A few of them saw Ed at the trailhead and nudged each other, their words indecipherable from where he stood.

“Ed,” Stede began, but Ed cut him off.

“I’m fine,” he said in a dull voice. “S’not worth it.”

With that, he went back to the bus, leaving Stede and the others to dispose of the garbage in the nearby bins. He chanced a final look at the tourists from his seat window, still lounging on their trunk, and gritted himself against the tears of frustration still simmering beneath the surface.

Then something happened. 

Stede, carrying the bag of trash, marched up to the tourists. The rest of the group followed.

Although Ed couldn’t hear from where he sat, he watched as Stede spoke to the tourists sitting on the trunk, gesturing to the garbage bag. 

He turned one way and another, clearly speaking rather loudly, gesturing to other people in the parking lot, who turned to hear whatever he was saying. 

People started to stop, watch, and gather. Frenchie and Lucius were filming it all. 

Suddenly, Stede thrust the bag into the chest of one of the tourists – the one who had told Ed to ‘calm down’ – and pointed to the lot’s designated bins, giving instructions. 

“What the fuck?” Izzy said, opening the door to the coach so they could hear what was being said.

Ed scrambled off of the bus and headed toward them, stopping about midway to where the interaction was unfolding. 

The tourist rejected the bag at first, pushing it back, but then Stede, Lucius, Pete, Frenchie, Roach, Swede and John all started talking at the same time. 

“We all saw you leave it there-”

“Fucking gross-”

“Not cool, man.” 

“Here in New Zealand,” Stede said, his voice rising about the rest, “we tend to have a bit of a problem with folks who don’t respect our natural treasures.”

The other people who had stopped to see the commotion began to join in, pointing to the bins and accosting the litterer to take care of his own trash. Ed slowly approached, coming to stand just behind the small crowd. 

Finally, another litterer from the group slid off the trunk and came to her friend’s side. She nudged him forward, muttering something into his ear. 

With this, the tourist finally took the bag from Stede and, enduring a gauntlet of disgruntled strangers, slunk over to the bins and disposed of the garbage. 

When he returned, Lucius and Stede advanced on him once more, Lucius’ phone directly in his face.

“Now, you’re going to apologize to the good people of Aotearoa for treating a sacred park like a garbage dump,” Stede scolded. 

“And, for generally being just the worst,” Lucius added, pretty amped. Ed watched from his place in the crowd. 

The tourist looked incredibly pissed off, but was also reading the figurative room. Drawing in a sulky breath, he looked at Stede.

“Into the phone, babes,” Lucius said. 

“I’ve treated this place like a garbage dump"

“I’m a litterbug,” Stede prompted.

“I’m a… a litterbug,” the tourist said, deadpanned. 

“And, you’re the worst,” Lucius said matter-of-factly.

The tourist stared at Lucius. 

“And what else are you?” Stede’s asked, as though speaking to a small child. 

“Holy fuck. I’m sorry, OK?” the tourist said. “I’m sorry.” 

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Lucius withdrew his phone, the tourist retreated to his car, and the crowd disbanded, leaving Stede, Ed and the rest of the group to return to the bus. Stede noticed Ed standing a little ways away and waited for him to catch up.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Ed said, a little stunned.  

“I disagree – they absolutely had it coming,” Stede replied with a half-smile and a shrug. “Besides, if there’s one thing I know about New Zealanders, it’s that we love to shame shitty tourists.” 

“I considered dumping the bag all over their car for effect,” Stede continued as they settled into their seats, “but I thought that might confuse the whole ‘litterbug’ message.”

With that, Stede scooted over so that he was leaning against the window, kicked his feet up, crossed them at the ankles and settled in, hands folded behind his head.  

The bus started up and they pulled out of the parking lot toward the hotel. Everyone else was chatting, exchanging perspectives on what had just happened. 

Lucius was considering posting the video. “It could go viral,” he reasoned to general assent. “I bet the New Zealand media would have a field day.”

An argument kicked off on whether to post the video and share the link or send the video directly to just one outlet for airing. 

The energy on the bus was the polar opposite to its sleepy start that morning. 

Ed – or at least, portion of Ed’s mind that wasn’t just replaying the sight of Stede shoving a bag full of trash into a stranger’s chest over and over again – recognized this as the early stages of one of his favourite parts of a tour: 

When the guests begin coming together over unique, shared experiences, and a sense of connection and camaraderie, one that is usually pretty hard to find in adult life, starts to form. 

###

A few hours later, everyone arrived, freshly showered and originating from their own rooms, to dinner in the restaurant of the Chateau Tongariro Hotel. 

Oluwande and Jim, having been delivered by Ed’s local guide hookup, a lovely and warm local expert named Fang, arrived at the table looking tired but invigorated. 
 
As Ed had promised, Fang had experiences up his sleeve Olu and Jim had never even heard of before, and they’d had an incredible day.

“We spent the morning with this master Māori carver, Delani Brown,” Jim told Frenchie as the salad course was served. “He had us in his workshop and we just talked about his culture and the spirituality behind these massive wood carvings he does -- it was fucking gufiao.”

“Then he took us to this guy’s cabin, in the middle of nowhere,” Olu continued, “like seriously, nothing for miles and miles – the land’s been in his family for generations – and we hiked it and fished for eel and we made a hangi together… it was just- wow.”

It sounded as though hanging with Fang himself was a treat as well. 

“He knows all the cafes and places where locals prefer to eat, and he showed us all the places he takes his pups, which is great because our domestic clients always want to see the country with their fucking dogs,” Jim said.

“Sounds like they had an amazing time,” Stede said to Ed as they watched the conversation unfold from the end of the table. “That must feel nice, knowing you had a hand in arranging this life-changing experience for them.”

“I’d hardly call it life-changing,” Ed said. He’d noticed Stede being purposely kind and gentle with him after the afternoon they’d had, and he appreciated it. “But I’m glad they had a good time.”

“Oh come on. You’re going to tell me you’re not even a little proud of yourself?” Stede sipped his beer. “What’s the point of being this good at your job if you’re not able to enjoy it a little?”

Ed considered this. “I guess, in the beginning, getting that kind of reaction from tourists did feel good. Like you made them happy, so that made you happy. But,” he shrugged. “After a while, it all just kind of fades because while the experiences are new to the travellers, you just had that same experience with different travellers the week before, and their reactions are mostly the same.” He set his own beer down and thought about this. 

“Eventually it just gets old.”

“I mean, I see what you’re saying,” Stede replied. “But I really can’t imagine this,” he gestured to the group on their right, all curiosity and chatter and jokes and the best kind of exhausted, “...ever getting old.”

Ed smiled at Stede as he admired the group in front of them. “You really love it, don’t you?” 

“Absolutely” Stede nodded. “I know it’s only going to last for a few days, but..” he met Ed’s gaze. “It sort of feels like we’re a family, you know?”

Ed thought about how he’d seen everyone starting to connect on the bus, the levity and the familiarity of it. Then he thought about Stede going after him at the park, keeping an eye on him when he was upset, making sure he was OK. Then he thought about how they’d all rallied behind him, picking up the trash and standing up for what was right.

Maybe he did. 

###

After everyone had retired for the night, Stede was busy in his room. As per Ed’s instructions, he was going through what to bring on the trek, and what to leave in his luggage, which would stay on the bus. 

He was weighing the pros and cons of including the flask-compass-flashlight when he heard a knock on the door. 

“It’s open,” he called. 

“Hey,” Ed greeted him. “Just wanted to touch base about lunch tomorrow. All set there?”

“Yes, no problem. I went to the store,” Stede said. “I just bought chips and muffins and apples, and thought I’d get up early and whip up some sandwiches, something simple.”

“Perfect,” Ed replied, checking the list on his phone. “We’ll hand it out to the group to carry from the start, so you and I can worry about the emergency gear and extra water.”

“How’s the weather looking for tomorrow? Are you bringing a bivvy?”

“It’s looking great actually,” Ed said, flopping down on the edge of the bed. “Clear skies all day. But yeah, I’m bringing one; I don’t take groups up there without a bivouac tent. When it comes to the Crossing, always better to be safe than sorry.”

“Hm, in that case, this might be a perfect opportunity to give my SOL bivvy sack a try!” Stede wondered.

“I’d only pack it if you have room, mate,” Ed advised. “I take the tent for insurance, but it’s a really long trek to be carrying something you probably aren’t going to use.”

Stede had already moved on to laying out his trekking clothes. “What are you wearing? I know it’s March but it can get cold right? I want to be prepared for anything.”

Ed helped Stede pick out some key items; sunglasses, a hat, sunscreen and plenty of layers. He also talked him out of wearing his hydration vest (too bulky), but approved of the water bladder. 

One thing led to another, and they ended up unpacking and repacking Stede’s entire kit, exchanging moments from the day and poking fun at Stede's packing choices. 

“How were you going to carry all this?” Ed laughed as he set out everything to be included in Stede's pack on the bed. 

"I had plans to slowly offload items into other people's packs when they weren't looking," Stede shrugged. 

"Like a reverse pickpocket." 

"Like a cat burger, but instead of stealing diamonds from a bank, I force the bank to hold onto my useless garbage." 

As Ed decisively removed the camp-size salt and pepper shakers Stede had argued were essential, Ed could feel his eyes on him. 

“Are you… feeling any better?” Stede ventured. “I couldn’t help but notice those tourists got under your skin.”

Ed groaned inwardly. He didn’t really want to do this. 

“Nah, pretty much par for the course,” he shrugged, setting the shakers down and vetoing Stede’s collection of Outside magazines.

“As in, there’s always tourists who leave trash around?” Stede asked.

Ed paused. He thought about Stede giving him back his slip of paper, telling him he’d love to try his cooking, shoving trash into the arms of a stranger. Could he trust him with this? 

Probably not, Ed reasoned. But then again… he looked at Stede, who was standing over his gear, watching Ed while looking equal parts cautious and caring.

Fuck it. It was going to come up with Stede sooner or later, and he may as well get it over with.

“As in, you can put up signs, you can hold their hands, you can make them take a fucking pledge before entering the country,” Ed said, removing four of the five rolls of toilet paper Stede had packed for himself. “But if you tell tourists something is sacred, they just can’t help but shit all over it.” 

He stood up straight to draw in a breath, looking both sad and frustrated with someone Stede couldn’t see. 

“It’s not enough to be able to tramp all over our land, swim in our hot springs, catch our fish – they’ve got to treat it all like it’s disposable, like it exists just for them. It’s like they can’t help it – their first reaction is to always take what’s not theirs and act like they had it the whole fucking time – sorry,” Ed broke off, suddenly self-conscious. 

He sat on the edge of Stede’s bed. Stede hesitated a moment before gently moving some gear to the side and sitting beside him.

“You can… keep talking, if you want to,” Stede said, choosing his words carefully. “I’ll listen.” 

He added, I'm sorry that happened today.”

Ed leaned forward, hands on his knees. He was at odds with himself; highly aware of Stede’s shoulder touching his, highly aware that he could smell his shampoo, and highly, highly aware of how badly he wanted Stede’s earnest, validating demeanour to be real and lasting. 

Yet he also knew how short a week was, and how easy it was to bond with someone on a tour – and how easy it was to be forgotten afterward. He was also intimately familiar with how difficult it was for the Stedes of the world to really understand where he was coming from when it came to certain things like land ownership and oppression – and how much it hurt when their true unwillingness to learn came to light. 

And yet, here he was, sitting quietly, waiting for Ed to continue. Here he was, smelling like lavender and emanating warmth and holding space – space for him. Ed couldn’t sort it all out – it was too confusing. So instead – for now – he looked at Stede and gave a slow smile. 

“Did you see that fucker’s face when the crowd started yelling at him?”  

IZZY TEXTING ED

Izzy: Smoke? 
Ed: Sure
Izzy: Front door
Ed: Coming down 

###

Izzy was just outside the hotel doors, already lighting up by the time Ed arrived and joined in. 

Ed could tell by the way Izzy didn’t immediately start complaining about Stede or the guests that he wanted to ask him about what had happened at the waterfall today. He’d only seen part of everything that had gone down, but he’d travelled enough with Edward to know how this kind of thing affected him. 

Instead, they smoked their first cigarette in silence, watching their exhalations dissolve into the cool, dark air. 

Then, because he was Izzy, and he could never help himself: “Did you get that application in?”

Ed took an extra long drag and slowly exhaled, hoping the wait for a response annoyed him. 

“Nope,” he said. He was exhausted, and he was about to lead a 19km trek, so he had very few fucks to give.

Izzy didn’t immediately jump down his throat, but Ed could sense his frustration vibrating in the space between them. 

“Do you even care if we go to Europe?” Izzy asked in a forced casual tone so uncharacteristically him that Ed almost laughed. 

“Not really, no,” Ed admitted. 

“Well neither do I – as long as we have work for next season, I don’t care if it’s in Europe or Alaska or wherever,” Izzy replied, stubbing out on the wall behind him and flicking the remainder into the parking lot. 

“Or maybe we don’t go anywhere,” Ed ventured. He felt Izzy pause before lighting his next smoke. 

“What are you talking about?”

Ed shifted from one foot to another, leaning the other on the wall behind him. “I don’t know man. I’m just… so sick of it all. It’s so fucking boring. The long haul flights and the tour companies and the people who think they want to hike the rainforest but they end up needing to be literally carried – I mean, is this all there is?”

“Well as bored as you are, if we don’t get jobs lined up, we don’t get paid,” Izzy said. 

“OK,” Ed countered, “or, what if we just don’t guide? What if we do something else to get paid?”

“Oh come on Edward, what else is there at our age?” Izzy asked. “What are my options? Drive a transit bus? Become a trucker? At least with touring, you get to see the world, eat good food, the hotels are alright, sometimes. We’re almost at the end of our careers as it is. It’s a little late for new ideas.”

Ed didn’t reply. 

“You know you’re the reason I got into this work in the first place?” Izzy continued. “I never saw myself doing this, but you made it seem like a great adventure. And for years, I’ve never minded being the one who job hunts, the one who has your back, and covers for you when you can’t get out of bed in the morning, because I was honoured to be working with the great adventurer, Ed Teach. Nowadays I ask myself: ‘Where did that man go?’”

“He’s tired, Iz,” Ed said, finishing his second cigarette and crushed it into the pavement with the toe of his boot. 

“I know it can be a grind,” Izzy said softly. “But we need to make it work. I need to make it work, and to be honest, it’s always easier when… well, you’re the one they always want.” 

“What’s the point of being good at my job if it makes me miserable?” Ed asked, twisting Stede’s words from dinner. 

“Look, you always hate touring here, because of – shit like today,” Izzy continued, exhaling a long plume and gazing at Ed. "Maybe it makes the job seem worse than it is." 

He turned to Ed then, looking up at him with a strange expression. 

“So let's not work here any more. Let's go to Europe - you liked it last time. Let's get the gig, and never come back here, if you don't want to."

Ed thought about this. Izzy had a point. The money here was better, which was why they always came back, but in Europe, there were no reminders of tapu land, tikanga and his childhood. In Europe, he was just another faceless guide, not 'Ed Teach,' best guide to come out of NZ, making his whānau proud. 

He nodded. "Alright Iz."

Izzy seemed relieved. He ashed out and walked inside then, leaving Ed to stand alone wondering where ‘that man’ had gone, or indeed, if he’d ever really existed in the first place.

Chapter Text

TONGARIRO ALPINE CROSSING

###

STEDE TEXTING GROUP CHAT

Hi all!

Today we are embarking on the Tongariro Alpine Crossing – known to be one of the most beautiful hikes in the world!

A reminder that we are heading out from the lobby this morning at 6:30AM sharp. We will have rolls and tea on the bus if you’re not able to get to breakfast on time, but please don’t be late – it’s an 8 hour trek and we want to be finished in relatively good time!

Please read the following packing list carefully, and let me know if you don’t have access to any of the items. The crossing can be somewhat arduous, so it’s important we’re all prepared. Whatever you don’t need to bring in your day pack can be stowed away on the bus; Mr. Hands will be picking us up at the other side of the crossing. 

I HOPE YOU’RE ALL EXCITED!

“A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.”
― Lao Tzu

###

The sun was just beginning to peek out over the horizon when the group emerged, sleepy-eyed and ready, from the bus to the very start of the Tongariro Alpine Crossing. The air was crisp, the sky quite clear and a shocking blue. 

“Perfect day for a trek,” Ed declared, passing out day packs to their owners from the belly of the bus. Despite waking up in a bitter haze after the events of the day before, it was hard not to be caught up in the sheer magnificence of a brisk morning in Tongariro; it was already vastly improving his mood.

Stede hitched his up and looked out at the expanse of tundra and sky ahead, brimming with anticipation, already feeling fulfilled. He couldn’t explain it, but something about doing the Tongariro Alpine Crossing felt huge – like the embodiment of his greatest outdoor ambitions. 

It had everything he’d always imagined a real adventure would: the need for speciall gear, the need for skill and expertise, the potential for danger. He adjusted the gadgets lined along his wrist and was raring to go. 

Stede, Izzy and Ed did a quick huddle while the rest of the group loitered near the trailhead, snapping shots for socials and, in Swede’s case, stretching as though he was about to enter an Olympic race. 

“So: Weather today looks great,” Ed started. “We’re the only group scheduled to go through between 8:30 AM and 5 PM, so the trail shouldn’t be too congested - just general hiker traffic. Izzy will meet us at the car park on the other side – with beers this time,” Ed added warningly. 

“He forgot them the last time – huge letdown, not bloody optimal,” Ed told Stede, looking pointedly at Izzy.  

“What the hell are you wearing?” Izzy interjected, looking at Stede. 

“It’s my BioLite, my headlamp,” Stede replied, touching it as though it had disappeared

“It’s daylight, for fuck sake.” 

“Well, sure, but it’s listed as an essential for the trek, and it seemed silly to pack it and take up space when I could just wear it,” Stede said, looking to Ed for validation. 

Ed clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Can never be too careful. Izzy, be ready for the midpoint check-in. Since there’s media here, we’ll probably be a little late if they take a lot of pictures, but I’ll keep you posted.”

With that, they were off. 

###

The track was flat for the first hour or so, which was a good thing because Lucius and Pete were full of piss and vinegar, keen to create a load of content on this leg of the tour due to the stunning, moon-like setting of red dirt, yellow and red scrub and the endless, sweeping landscape. 

Stede fed off of Lucius and Pete's energy, enthusiastically helping them record their videos in between bouts of marching along the path, proclaiming that they were all "proper trampers now." 

They worked their way around Mangatepopo stream, which followed the edge of an old lava flow, before approaching the Devil’s Staircase. 

“We’ll be going to about 1400-1600 metres above sea level to South Crater, and working along different levels of hardened lava flow,” Ed informed everyone before they began the ascent. “Take your time, be aware of where you’re stepping, and wait until we come to a designated stop to take any pictures – it’s too distracting to do it walking when the trail is not smooth.”

The climb was steep, and there was plenty of groaning (especially from Lucius) but the view down into the valley once they came to a stop was well worth the trouble. With the air being so clear, they could see Mount Taranaki from where they stood, and everyone stopped for a water break while Lucius and Pete did a quick video about touring Tongariro and John took some shots of the volcano in the distance. 

Stede was standing at the edge of a ridge, chest puffed, breathing in the mountain air when Ed stepped up beside him. 

“Bad news,” he said, checking his satellite. “It says there may be some rain passing through up Red Crater. Shouldn’t last too long, but we’ll get wet, and it'll be windy. Let’s have them take as many pictures as they can here, in case they can’t take out their cameras later down the trail.”

Stede nodded, checking his watch – “sunset is still relatively late this time of year so it’s no trouble to be a little flexible. Should we tell Izzy?”

“Nah, he knows to give a grace period of about two hours or so before getting too Izzy about things” Ed replied. 

Once the group was collectively satisfied with their work, they set off again, beginning the ascent from South Crater to Red Crater, the highest point of the track at 1886 metres. 

At first, fuelled by adrenaline the "tramping vibe," as Stede called it, was quite upbeat. 

The climb became very steep very quickly though, and much more difficult to negotiate. The formerly broad, flat track was long forgotten, having been replaced by a narrow, rocky ledge. The group chatter dulled into a focused quiet, which Stede found was even more thrilling than the cheerful chatter of a group enjoying themselves.

“Nothing like a little hardship on the trail,” he said to no one in particular as a rock he kicked tumbled hundreds of feet down the ridge. “Makes it all so much more authentic, eh Frenchie?”

Even Frenchie, who had been at Ed's side thus far, asking him questions about Tongariro for his article on hardcore adventures in Aotearoa, had tucked his notebook away and was keeping his head down. 

Ed in the meantime, Stede observed – with the same swell of admiration he was beginning to associate exclusively with Ed – was spectacularly in his element. After instructing the group to waterproof everything they had and giving a brief talk on trekking in strong winds, he was leading the group along the trail while keeping a careful watch on his satellite gadget.

Despite all the preparation, by the time they reached the Red Crater, the forecasted rain had never arrived. Save for some darker cloudy patches, the sky remained blue and the visibility was clear enough, if not a little blustery, for the group to enjoy the fiery hue  of the exposed crater. 

###

After a photo op and water break, they began the descent toward the Emerald Lakes. Somehow, going down was almost more challenging than climbing up; the earth was an extremely unstable mix of fine volcanic dust and loose chunks of scoria. 

“Take your time.” Ed instructed over his shoulder as he tried to locate solid spots for the group to use. 

They didn’t have much of a choice; the winds had picked up, and would occasionally gust so strongly everyone had to crouch and brace themselves from falling over. Some walked down sideways, to give themselves more leverage against the rubble sliding underfoot. Stede had read that Red Crater would be about 10 degrees colder than the start of the Crossing, but he hadn’t really registered until now what the difference would feel like – especially with wind chill. 

The sky was still relatively clear though, so Stede made his way around Frenchie to arrive beside Ed. 

“What do you think about taking a break by the Emerald Lakes? I read it’s a nice spot for lunch,” he asked. 

Ed considered this without taking his eyes off his feet. 

“Uh, sure, if it’s not too windy, it’s probably a good idea,” he replied. 

“OK, I’ll see if I can’t get down a little ahead of you all and-” 

“LUCIUS!”

Lucius, who had wanted to get footage of the group’s downhill struggle, had stepped off the main ridge for a better angle. Taking small steps alongside the group to allow the camera to follow the group, he wasn’t looking when he stepped on a large, loose rock that immediately crumbled beneath his foot. 

Losing his balance, Lucius instinctively put his hands out and down to stop his fall, but gravity meant he lurched down into a full somersault instead. He rolled once head over heels, then turned his shoulder for the next roll, meaning he was rolling on his side instead. 

It was an incredibly lucky move, as he achieved a little airtime before crashing his body into a larger, much more solid rock. If his shoulder hadn’t turned, it would have been his head stopping his fall. 

Ed took off, moving deftly and with a skill that made it clear he had previously been walking slowly and carefully for the group’s benefit only. 

“Lucius,” he said, kneeling down where Lucius was crumpled around the rock. 

The rest of the group made their way over as well, Pete with a wild look of panic on his face. 

“Am I dead?” Lucius asked, looking up at Ed. 

There was a collective sigh of relief from the group. 

“No, you just had a fall,” Ed replied. “Does anything hurt?”

Lucius wriggled different parts of his body. “I don’t think so.”

“Do you want to try standing?” Ed asked, finding some even footing so he could help Lucius up. 

Lucius was fine, it seemed, albeit a little dusty. His side was a little bruised from where it had connected with the rock, but he insisted he was fine to continue.

“Just watch your step,” Lucius joked as Pete wrapped his arms around his neck. “It’s a bit slippy.”

The adrenaline from that entire interaction had their party joking and chirping the rest of the way to the lakes, but the winds did decrease the lower they went, and by the time they reached the bottom, it was calm enough to enjoy their sandwiches overlooking the lakes, both a vibrant green due to their makeup of dissolved volcanic minerals. 

Ed seemed unsettled. He insisted on checking Lucius out, performing a quick exam on his ribs. In the absence of any real pain, Ed sat back and forced his lunch down, fiddling with his satellite while everyone else chattered about their surroundings. 

“Everything OK?” Stede asked, coming to sit next to Ed. 

“Yeah, I’m just keeping an eye out,” Ed replied. “The weather is always weird at this altitude.”

“Well with the exception of Lucius’ little tumble, I’d say it’s going quite well, wouldn’t you?” Stede asked cheerily, offering Ed some chips from the bag he was demolishing. “You’re really an excellent guide.” 

Ed glanced at Stede but kept his head down. “Thanks, mate. I’ve done this one a few times.”

Stede marvelled at this. “Imagine doing one of the greatest walks on Earth more than once! What is your life?” 

Ed smiled despite himself. He’d been slowly embracing, ever since the fruit tray, his ever-strengthening realization that Stede was really fucking cute. Even if nothing ever came of it, because the guy’s dad was Ed’s meal ticket, and he was his guiding partner and they were working, and he was married with kids, Ed felt comfortable admitting, privately, that he found Stede, the things Stede said, and his general, overall Stede-ness pretty adorable. 

“You saw the part where Lucius almost cracked up on the rocks? That’s my life most of the time – tourists forgetting that the planet isn’t a playground,” he said, wincing at the cynicism in his voice. He’d actually begun to quite like Lucius, who was much kinder and funnier than how he had first presented himself in Rotorua.

“But that was the most exciting part!” Stede exclaimed, perhaps not knowing quite what the sentiment sounded like. “That’s what makes hikes like this a real adventure! And he’s fine, so we’re all winning, aren’t we?”

Ed squinted at him. “Are you even capable of seeing the bad side of a thing?” 

“I’m just saying what I see,” Stede replied, looking pleased. 

Around them, the group had finished munching on snacks and sandwiches, and were starting to take a wander around. John was snapping pictures with a very willing Jim and Oluwande as models, Swede and Roach were taking a walk around the edge of one of the lakes. Pete and Lucius were-

“Oh what the hell Lucius,” Ed growled, pushing himself off the ground. Something had possessed the pair to clamber back up the ridge Lucius had just fell down, presumably for a better shot of the lakes from above.

“Guys, maybe let’s not revisit the site of Lucius’ near-death experience?” Ed called after them. 

“Oh, let them do the thing,” Stede said, tugging at his pant leg from his spot on the ground. “What are the chances Lucius falls twice?”

“We should actually think about getting going,” Ed grumbled, sitting back down and pulling out his satellite messenger.. 

“Would you give me that,” Stede took it out of his hand, “and relax for five minutes?”

“Oh, stupid me, I thought we were working,” Ed said in mock embarrassment. . 

“The weather is fine, we’re at the halfway point, past the hardest part,” Stede reasoned. “We’re all in a safe spot, it’s OK for you to take a break. I mean look where we are!” he gestured to the red-gold ridges, the towering mountains, to the gaping sky around them. “Doesn’t it just take your breath away?”

Ed observed, with a slight pang at the inescapability of it, that he was drawn to this bright, bossy version of Stede. So, acquiescent to the insistence that he exist in the present moment, Ed let himself relax a little. He accepted Stede’s offering of chips, told Stede some anecdotes about his previous crossings, and laughed openly at Stede’s retelling of Lucius’ fall from his perspective. 

“-And I thought – just for a moment, mind you – that it was a stunt for the camera. Because how many times have you seen a person fall down like that? It didn’t look real! Then I realized he was holding the camera. And then I thought damn. If he dies, that’ll be bad for the general vibe around here.”

“Oh absolutely,” Ed nodded in grave agreement. “Would really cast a pall.” 

“I mean imagine carrying that dead weight for 9 more kilometres-”

“-On top of our packs-”

“-All the way to the car park?”

“We’d be too tired for beer at that point.”

“And even if we did have a beer, it would make the celebratory group photo a bit awkward.”

“What if we gave him sunglasses?”

“Oh, alright – and maybe tape a beer to his hand? Prop him up a bit between us?”

“Too much work,” Ed decided. “Let’s just leave him here, let search and rescue take care of him.”

“I mean, that is their job,” Stede agreed. 

“Gotta give them something to do, lazy bastards.”

“Uh, guys?” Oluwande interrupted. “Should we maybe get moving?”

It took Ed a moment to go from leaning toward Stede, a very stupid grin on his face, to seeing the gathering of clouds behind where Oluwande stood.

“There it is,” he announced, jumping to his feet. “That’s the rain we’ve been watching out for, so let’s get moving everyone. Jackets and pack covers out if you don’t already have them.” 

They moved, as quickly as they could, away from the encroaching clouds, but about a kilometre later, they were surrounded by a fog as thick as stew. 

“Headlamps!” Stede called, probably a little too excitedly. Ed clicked on a red bicycle light he had clipped to his shoulder so everyone could see him through the mist. 

“Everyone stay close, keep to the buddy system,” he told them. 

They had no sooner paired up when the winds picked up, gusty at first, but increasingly fierce and nothing like they had been back at the Red Crater. 

Then the rain came. It would have been heavy, were it not being whipped around into a violent, sideways spray by the wind. 

Stede cinched his hood closer around his face, grateful Ed had insisted on thermal gloves when they had packed the night before. Lacking visibility and a solid centre of gravity, the group walked clustered together, trying to follow Ed in the fog and the rain and the wind but struggling to merely move forward. 

The wind made the rain bitterly chilly, and if it got any colder-

“Hail,” Roach shouted, shielding his face from the onslaught of ice. 

“It’ll pass, just keep moving,” Ed called back. “See if its better on the other side of the ridge.”

They continued on for another kilometre before the wind reached a breakneck speed, so strong and volatile that they had to crouch every time a stronger gust kicked up. The mist had made everything very cold, and the hail vacillated between pellets of ice and wet, semi-frozen rain. 

He fell into step with Stede. “I’m calling it; time to shelter.”

“Do you think it’ll get worse?”

“I dunno. This was supposed to be rain,” Ed surveyed the sky, which was difficult to distinguish from the fog around them. “But our visibility is shit, and this wind is tiring everyone out.”

“Should we call search and rescue?”

Ed shook his head. “They won’t be able to get us until this all passes. Let’s just get out of this and see if it passes.”

They assessed the group. Everyone was either linked by the arm or gripping their buddy’s jacket. Nobody seemed able to really see what they were doing. 

“OK, lets get to shelter,” Ed yelled over the roar of the wind after another ten minutes. He led the group, hunched against the wind and barely able to see, down a ridge and into a small enclave sheltered on three sides by a low hillside. 

Here, the wind wasn’t as vicious, but Oluwande and Jim still had to help Ed pitch the bivouac tent because parts of it kept flying up. 

As they finished, Stede and Frenchie collected everyone’s packs, dug out everyone’s water, then covered them with a tarp and secured it with stones provided by Roach and John. 

“Everyone into the tent,” Ed ordered, standing outside the doorway to help people in and wincing as bitter rain obscured his vision. 

“Shit,” he said under his breath. Lucius, who had gone from chipper at lunch to sullen in the short span where they’d been hurrying to safety, was limping toward the tent, looking grey. 

“I must’ve rolled it when I fell,” Lucius said as Ed helped him inside beside Jim and Oluwande. 

“He didn’t feel anything at first,” Pete added, “but then just now, he stumbled coming down the ridge.”

“Can you make space for him to lay down?” Ed asked as Pete, Roach and the Swede crowded into the tent as well. They shuffled to the edges of the tent so Lucius could lay on his back in the centre. 

“Put his foot up on this.” Ed, who had kept his pack, shrugged it off and gave it to John and Pete to prop up Lucius’ leg. Shivering and soaking wet, Stede handed out reflective blankets for everyone to try and wrap around themselves while Ed examined Lucius’ ankle. 

“It’s a bit swollen but not broken,” Ed said, straightening out of the tent. It was then he realized that with Lucius on his back, there was no room for him or Stede in the tent. 

He didn’t let this grave realization show on his face, instead instructing Pete to give Lucius water, and telling everyone else to hang tight, and keep as warm as they could while being completely sopping wet. These things never last long, he told them. He hoped.

Then, he zipped them all inside, his mind racing. His training meant he knew that this was the right thing to do in the moment, and to reassess when they had more visibility and movement. 

But it was cold, they were all wet, and so this needed to pass quickly for them to stay on the right side of safety. If it kept up for too long, they’d be facing hypothermia, shock, and worse. 

Ed logically knew to stay calm, to take it one step at a time. But there was no ignoring how bad this could be. If he and Stede couldn’t get out of the storm–

“Ed!” He spun around. His jaw dropped.

Stede had put up his own bivvy sack in the minimal shelter of the tarped pile of backpacks. It was far smaller than Ed’s 6-person tent, more like a large sleeping bag you could somewhat sit up in, but it was an emergency bivvy, which meant it was heat reflective and waterproof. 

Stede had already squeezed inside, and turned on his side to make room for Ed as he twisted his way inside.

“Fuck, I’m so glad you didn’t listen to me when I said not to bring it,” Ed remarked as he settled in. 

“Well you said not to, but then you also said that it’s better to be safe than sorry!” Stede said, sealing the entrance near their heads. 

The inside of the bivvy was neon orange, and cast both their faces in an electric glow. The wind outside continued to attack, but the deafening sound was slightly muffled by the olefin material, and they no longer had to shout. 

There wasn’t room for fidgeting; there was less than an inch between them. Their gloved hands were in tight fists, their arms were crossed in front of their chests for core warmth. 

“Isn’t this terrifying?” Stede said in his very weird, afraid-but-also-awed tone. 

Ed stared at him. 

“Really though – how many times has this happened to you?” Stede asked. 

“Never, actually.”

“Exactly! I bet you never imagined you’d ever have a new experience on this trek again,” Stede pointed out. Ed coughed out a laugh. 

After a moment of listening to the hail pelting the walls of the bivvy, Stede met Ed’s gaze. He was hesitating from saying something, Ed could tell.

“You can ask me Stede,” he said softly.

“Are you scared?” Stede asked, his eyes searching. 

“Yeah Stede,” Ed whispered in a deadly calm voice, “I’m really fucking scared.”

Stede opened a gloved hand and placed it over one of Ed’s fists. “We’re OK,” he whispered back. “You’ve got us somewhere safe. We just have to wait it out. We have food and water right? We can always call for help?” 

This reflection prompted Ed out of a head of what-ifs around all the millions of ways things could go immediately worse, and his training kicked back in. He took stock of the situation. 

In his ignorance of how much danger they were in, Stede was technically right – they were warm, somewhat sheltered, had food, water and a satellite messenger. He could message Izzy and-

“Fuck,” Ed groaned. The messenger was in his pack. In the other tent. Currently propping up Lucius’ foot. 

“Ok,” he recovered. “Let’s give it…” he turned Stede’s hand to look at his GPS watch, “... ten minutes. If it doesn’t pass, I’ll go get the messenger and call for help.”

“Right!” Stede approved. “In the meantime…” he rummaged in the inside pocket of his jacket, and suddenly produced-

“Is that a fucking flask?” 

“Oh it’s not just a flask,” Stede informed him. “It’s also a compass, and a flashlight. It’s the whole package.”

Already jazzed by the chaos and the adrenaline, Ed lost it, and Stede joined him, both snickering their way through panic and passing the rum Stede had, for some reason, decided was crucial for an alpine trek, back and forth. 

After all, if they were going to die, Stede said, may as well do it in style. 

They talked through a few scenarios. If the storm didn’t pass, they’d be waiting at least an hour or more for search and rescue, due to the strength of the winds. 

If it was possible, they should still try to finish, as it would be much safer than waiting in the crater for a helicopter, as long as everyone was up for it.

Stede seemed, if not worried, oddly chill about the whole thing, as though he didn’t really believe they might die, and something about that helped Ed stay as calm on the inside as he was presenting himself to be on the outside. 

It felt like an hour, but it was, according to Stede later, actually only 8 minutes and 32 seconds before the storm passed and all that was left were some clouds and stubborn, albeit weaker, winds. 

It felt like an hour, but it was really only 8 minutes and 32 seconds of being huddled next to Stede, foreheads almost touching, sharing a flask along with hopes and fears and plans of what might come next, of Stede’s hand on Ed’s. 

It felt like an hour, but after 8 minutes and 32 seconds, they were crawling out of the bivvy into a much calmer Tongariro. Ed retrieved his messenger as the group clambered out of the tent, and called a pickup for Lucius.     

The SAR responded that the winds were still wicked along certain parts of the crossing, and the wait would be at least an hour.

Ed sat back on his heels and considered his options. Waiting around for an hour could be worse for everyone if the storm came back, but Stede wasn’t experienced enough to guide them down. 

“Jim,” Ed said, “You and Olu have done this before right?”

“This is our third time actually,” they replied. “Although definitely the first time we got fucked by a storm.”

“Do you think you could lead the group down the rest of the way so I can stay with Lucius?”

“For sure,” Jim replied. “The hardest parts are over now anyway – it’s pretty well all downhill from here.”

“I’m never sure if that’s good or bad,” Swede piped up. 

“It’s good this time,” Ed said, pulling out his messenger to text Izzy. 

###
SATELLITE MESSAGE FROM ED TO IZZY
Ed: Guest hurt ankle. Not srs. Called SAR
Izzy: Where
Ed: Blue Lake
Izzy: Other guests?
Ed: Coming
Izzy: You?
Ed: Staying here til SAR comes
Izzy: Be careful
###

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Stede asked when Ed explained the plan. 

“As long as the storm doesn’t kick up again we’ll be fine in the tent. SAR knows where we are,” Ed replied. “We’ll just eat some snacks and wait.” 

“Well, take the rest of this,” Stede said, handing over the flask-compass-flashlight. “And keep the reflective blankets too. Do you need a firestarter? Maybe we should all just stay. What if the storm comes back–”

“Stede,” Ed cut him off, taking hold of a shoulder with a stern confidence, “it’ll be fine. This is why we do wilderness survival training.” 

“Oh right,” Stede replied with a weak smile. “I guess I should get on that.” 

“Just get everyone down safe, and take your time. If they need to rest, rest all you need. If you need to try and text anyone, you should have service up until the last leg, when you get into the bush. 

“Lucius and I will meet you back at the hotel. It’ll all be over in a couple hours.” Ed said. “You good?”

Stede took a deep breath and nodded. “OK all, let’s get going. Everybody say bye to Ed and Lucius, we’ll see you both at dinner tonight!”

The group was as reluctant to split up as Stede, especially Pete, who wanted to stay but couldn’t because Ed wasn’t sure how much room would be in the helicopter. 

“You just want a free chopper ride,” Lucius ribbed him from his makeshift bed in the tent. “Go on, finish the trek. Think of how banger it’ll be to have footage of the whole trek and a rescue?”

Pete shook his head in disbelief and kissed him. “You’re a maniac. I love you,” he said, smoothing Lucius’ hair. 

“I love you too now go away,” Lucius waved him away. “If you get everyone caught in another storm because of me I’ll be super pissed off.”

The rest of the group took their leave then, Stede turning around more than once to wave goodbye to Ed, who was crouching beside Lucius in the tent, waving back at the doorway. 

They had one more short climb to North Crater, but didn’t linger this time for the fantastic view, which in the still-clearing sky, went as far as Lake Taupō. 

After an hour zigzag downhill to the Ketetahi Shelter along boggy ground, they all took a quick bathroom break and continued on to the car park, Jim and Oluwande taking the lead and Stede bringing up the rear. 

He took on the task of morale-boosting, rhyming off any facts he had read about the Crossing, and pointing out interesting landmarks. It didn’t seem to do too much good; the group was mostly tired and anxious about leaving Ed and Lucius behind. 

The last leg was an agonizing two hours, downhill and passing by some lovely springs, but seemingly unending. 

They hiked through open tussock land into a clearing, then followed the track into the bush line, which dropped into Mangatetipua Stream. Stede offered to let people stop for pictures, but nobody was in the mood. 

They didn’t bother stopping at the waterfall which greets those who finish the Crossing either, opting to beeline to the car park instead. When they saw it, it was as though a bubble had burst; smiles finally returned and there were even some high-fives. 

Exhausted and ready to quit, they stumbled into the car park where Izzy was waiting at about the 9 hour mark. 

Izzy helped them stow their packs and handed out beer, water and snacks after everyone had sat down. Then he pulled Stede off the bus.

“What the fuck happened?” he demanded. 

“Didn’t Ed tell you? It was a freak storm,” Stede said, stepping backwards. 

“Yes, but how did you get caught in it in the first place?” Izzy glared at him. “Edward knew there was rain coming, but he’s never let it catch him. It just doesn’t happen. You were probably fucking around, or distracting him. Asking too many questions or picking wildflowers-”

“First off, this is a volcanic landscape,” Stede corrected him. “There are very few wildflowers to pick, believe me – I tried. Secondly-”

Then Stede stopped. Izzy was right: he had been fucking around. Ed had wanted to get going, but he’d forced him to sit back down, take his mind off his work, and make jokes. 

If he hadn’t done that, they wouldn’t have gotten caught in the rain, and they wouldn’t have had to run, and Lucius wouldn’t have hurt his ankle worse, and Ed would be down there with them, right now. 

“Have you heard from Ed?” Stede asked in a hollow voice. Izzy gave him a withering look. 

“Yes. He’s updating me every 15 minutes. They were picked up an hour ago.”

Stede leaned against the bus, relieved. 

“So you’ll have to wait for another opportunity to try and get everyone killed,” Izzy added, climbing back onto the bus. 

###

GROUP CHAT - NO GUIDES

Oluwande: You good Lucius?
Pete: He hasn’t texted yet, I don’t know if he has service
Lucius: All good babes! Free copter ride over the volcanoes was totally worth being abandoned by you on the top of a mountain with only Ed for company. 
Frenchie: I’m totally interviewing you later. 
Lucius: Fame too?! Minor injuries are the best. Imma fall again tomorrow. 
Pete: Don’t you fucking dare. 
John: Are you done with SAR?
Lucius: Almost. Ed’s doing some paperwork, then we’ll take a cab back. 
Roach: How’s the ankle?
Lucius: Fine, not even broken. Hoping I can do trails again once we get to South Island. 
Jim: Glad you’re OK. Wouldn’t be the same if you weren’t around, annoying everyone. 
Lucius: That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. 
Lucius: g2g. 
Pete: Love you
Lucius: Love you
Swede: Love you

###

Everyone seemed relatively no worse for wear, considering the circumstances. After arriving home, rather than napping or showering, they opted to wait at the lobby bar for Lucius and Ed to return. Stede paid for a round of drinks and ordered pizza from the hotel restaurant. 

It didn’t take long for the waiting game to turn into a bit of a party, with everyone taking turns rehashing their own point of view of the adventure – and trying to process how lucky they were. By the time Ed and Lucius rolled in, the drinks and exhaustion had made everyone delirious and silly. 

They rushed the bedraggled pair as they dragged their feet into the lobby, Lucius on a crutch and Ed carrying two packs, and pulled them toward refreshments and the lobby’s centre sofa. 

Stede hung back by the bar, watching as Lucius described his rescue with dramatic hand gestures, as people passed around his phone to watch the pictures he’d had Ed take of him being helped into a helicopter by SAR techs. He watched as Oluwande approached Ed, handed him a beer and they tiredly toasted each other. 

He watched as Izzy sidled up to where Ed was sitting, as they talked with their heads close, something Izzy didn’t want anyone else to hear. He watched as they both looked up at him. Then he turned away, his insides twisting. 

“All good?” Ed slid onto the stool beside Stede’s a minute later. “You look disappointed that we made it back.”

Stede opened his mouth, horrified, to respond, but abandoned his defense when he saw the humor in Ed’s eyes. 

“How are you?” he asked. Ed tilted his head side to side, thinking about it. 

“Pissed about how much paperwork we’re going to have to do. Wanting a bath. Otherwise, fine. You?”

“Same, I suppose. A bit dazed too, I think. Can you believe it's barely been 12 hours since we left this morning?”

Ed didn’t seem impressed. “I mean, yeah. Time moves differently on tour; you cram so much and so many places into a single day.”

“I can’t believe everyone wanted to stay here and hang out,” Stede replied. “I thought for sure they’d all want their beds.”

“That’s journalists and agents for you,” Ed said, nodding at the group. “They’re not as fazed by this stuff as normal tourists would be. Did you know Jim and Oluwande got stranded in the Outback once for four days? Nobody could find them. Frenchie was telling me his jeep got mired in a river last summer in Botswana, and they had to dig it out while watching for hippos. Compared to that, today was playtime,” Ed sipped his beer. 

“Somehow I doubt that,” Stede said, suddenly serious. He turned to face Ed, gathering up nerve. “Look, I’m sorry about today. I know it’s my fault.”

Ed frowned at him and set his beer on the bar. “This ought to be good. Explain.”

Stede searched for the words. “You wanted to watch the weather and keep the group moving. I made you sit down and tell jokes. We might’ve gotten out of the crater before the storm hit if it weren’t for me.” 

“I’m so sorry, Ed,” he hung his head. “I put everyone in danger – I couldn’t even lead the group back down the mountain, Jim and Olu had to do it. I-I don’t know why I’m here.”

Ed cocked his head. He seemed mildly amused, although Stede couldn’t imagine why. 

“Couple things. One: Don’t listen to Izzy, like, ever. He wasn’t there, he sits on a nice warm bus all day. He’s got no fucking clue. Two: That storm was fucked way before it showed up on my satellite. We were never going to beat it out of the crater – sometimes, that’s just how these things go. It’s a risk everyone signs up for when they do the Crossing.”

He craned his neck down until he met Stede’s downward gaze. 

“Three: You’re the one who brought the bivvy sack, and the flask–”

“--It’s a flask, compass–”

“--and a flashlight, I know,” Ed grinned. “We might’ve frozen if it weren’t for you.”

He hesitated, then put a hand on Stede’s forearm. “Hey. I’m really glad you were there today.”

COMMENTS ON LUCIUS' INSTAGRAM POST

Ed: Not OK.
Lucius: Xoxo
Frenchie: Can vouch, this guy saved me too. 
John: And me
Roach: Pretty sure we'd be corpsicles if it wasn't for @TrekkerTeach
Ed: How do I stop this
Stede: I for one would have left you there Lucius
Lucius: ???
Stede: :D

###

By the time Stede made it back to his room, he was exhausted. He took a long shower, drank half a litre of water, and climbed into bed, but an hour later and unable to sleep, he reached for his phone. 

###
STEDE TEXTING MARY

Stede: Are you awake?

Stede: Something happened today. 

Stede: I really need to talk to you
Mary: What do you want Stede
Stede: Can I call?
Mary: This is fine. 
Stede: K. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. Again
Mary: You’ve said that. Anything else?
Stede: I almost died today

###

“Mary?” Stede answered the phone. 

“Did you really almost die, or was this another bad shellfish situation? 

Stede laid back, his head on his pillow. 

“We did a big trek today into some mountains, and there was a storm, and we had to – get this, I had to use my bivvy sack.” 

“I don’t know what that is, Stede.”

“Emergency shelter, in a crater. One of our party had to be airlifted out.”

“That… sounds scary.”

“It was. Well, it was probably more a potential for death than an almost death. But it made me realize something.”

He braced himself. 

“You were right, Mary. I’ve been unhappy. Know how I know?”

He took the silence on the other end as an invitation to continue. 

“Because… honestly, this was the best day of my life,” Stede felt his throat tighten. This was the first time he’d said it out loud. 

He knew today was his fault, he knew he didn’t belong there. But somehow, none of that was getting him all the way down.

“I’m sorry, because I know that’s not fair to you and the kids,” he continued. “I wish that almost – well, potentially – dying on a mountain wasn’t the thing that makes me happy. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

He broke then, failing to hide his overwhelm from pouring out into the line. 

For a few agonizing moments it was just Mary’s silence and Stede’s sniffling. Then-

“There isn’t anything wrong with you, Stede.” 

Mary sounded tired, too. “You just… you found something that makes you feel alive. And now you know what that feels like.”

Stede held his phone to his forehead, his chest heavy and aching. 

“But I don’t want to have to choose between this… and you and the kids.”

May sighed. “Who said anything about that? Our problems have nothing to do with you wanting to be a guide, Stede.”

“That’s fair. I just wanted you to know – well, I’m thinking about you guys. I didn’t run away to forget you.”

“I know that.”

They shared a silence. Stede felt closer to Mary then, alone in his hotel room, than he ever had laying next to her in their bed.

“I’ve been thinking…” Mary ventured, “Maybe we needed this space. Maybe it’ll give us time to ask ourselves… what makes us each feel alive, and how that needs to work?”

Stede nodded. “Maybe.” 

“Your dad’s really pissed, you know.”

“I noticed,” Stede replied. He’d found 7 missed calls on his phone after climbing onto the bus that day. “I’ve been pretending it’s not a massive problem.”

“Ah, your signature move,” Mary joked dryly. Stede chuckled. 

“Worry about it later,” Mary said. “Block him and just finish the tour. I’ll handle him.”

“How are you going to ‘handle’ my father?” Stede was skeptical. “He doesn’t listen to anyone. Remember that time he was subpoenaed?”

“He burned it in front of the clerk, right on our front lawn."

"The grass never grew back."

"But, I’m the mother of his grandchildren. I have special powers,” she assured Stede.

“I wish I had special powers,” Stede wondered what value being the father of his grandchildren had, if any. 

“You do,” Mary said kindly. “Nobody can piss me off quite like you.” 

“Thanks,” Stede smiled. 

“See you at home, Stede.”

“Bye, Mary.”

Chapter Text

MAP FROM TONGARIRO TO WELLINGTON

STEDE TEXTING GROUP CHAT
Stede: Morning everyone! 

May I say I am extra glad to be seeing all your smiling faces today (at 9AM in the lobby)! What an adventure yesterday was!

If you’re wishing you could stay in bed today, believe me – I understand. But, today will be relatively light, as we’ll be en route to Wellington for most of the morning, with a few fun stops along the way!

Aotearoa’s capital city, Wellington, or Te Whanganui-a-Tara, is widely known as the creative capital as well, where many of our brightest and most brilliant artists choose to share their talents. 

When we arrive and check in, you’ll have the afternoon and evening free to explore however you wish!

A reminder that we’ll be flying to Picton tomorrow, so remember to pack an overnight bag this morning, as we’ll be leaving our main luggage on the bus for Mr. Hands to transfer to Picton via Ferry tomorrow morning. 

While you’re at it, make sure you bid our steadfast driver a fond farewell, as we will be switching over to a South Island driver when we arrive in Picton. Thank you for your great work Izzy, safe travels! 

“The danger of adventure is worth a thousand days of ease and comfort.”
― Paulo Coelho

###

NON-GUIDE GROUP CHAT
Lucius: I swear, if he tries to make us sing or play any games today…
Frenchie: As soon as he stands up, everyone pretend to be asleep
Swede: I like the games
Oluwande: Not today, Swede
Frenchie: I second the pretending to be asleep idea
Jim: I’m going to ACTUALLY sleep so no one wake me
Lucius: Not even for “wheels on the bus”?Jim: Fucking try it
Lucius: eep.

###

Stede had already decided he would just let everyone rest on the bus, given the day they’d had previously. He was pretty worn out himself, and intended to spend the 3-hour drive to Wellington napping and reviewing the itinerary for the days ahead. 

He had just started thinking about doing the first thing when Ed flopped into the seat behind him. 

“Gooood morning!” he said, a big smile on his face. He held up two cups. “Tea or coffee?”

“What are you so chipper about?” Stede said suspiciously, taking the tea. “Why aren’t you exhausted like the rest of us?”

They both turned to look at the rest of the bus. Everyone immediately closed their eyes and slumped against something. 

“Oh no,” Ed said, standing up and moving up the aisle. “No, no, no, we can’t have this, guys,” he chastised everyone in general.

“Today’s the Wellington day! No trekking, no backpacks, just us and the coolest city in the country! We are going to eat cool food, see cool art…”

The bus slowly started waking up to watch Ed. “... and probably walk around a lot, which will be annoying if you’re tired – but! There are so many cool things to see that it’ll be worth it.”

Lucius raised his hand. “Sorry, just a bit confused about what you’re trying to say, not sure about anyone else here. Is Wellington cool, or-?”

Ed immediately snapped his fingers and pointed at Lucius. “Wellington, my friend, is extremely cool.”

The other passengers stared at him. Ed bounced back down into his seat and grinned, a spark in his eye that Stede hadn’t seen before. He waited for Stede to speak. 

“So… you really like Wellington then-” 

“I really like Wellington, yes,” Ed nodded solemnly.

“Oh… kay,” Stede mirrored Ed’s nod. “I’m still catching up, but I’m loving this energy.”

Ed responded by using the back of Stede’s seat as a drum. 

“It’s gonna be a great day!”

### 

After a brief stop at Tararua Forest Park for some final North Island rainforest photo content, the coach arrived in Wellington just in time for lunch. 

Ed joined Stede in line for check in at the hotel, feeling more energized than he’d felt in a long time. He was excited for Wellington, it was true, but he also had a sneaking suspicion that Tongariro was also playing a role in his influx of serotonin. 

Though it had not been very fun at the time, there was something about having gone through it, survived it and come out on the other side that felt… great. Ed had forgotten that feeling. 

It had been so long since he’d been challenged like that; things usually just went to plan these days. Tongariro had been a reminder of how dangerous his job could be.

###

"So, what is it about Wellington that makes it so great?” Stede asked while they waited for the hotel clerk to check in the group. 

Ed shrugged, slightly bouncing on his heels. "I dunno. I lived here a bit during high school, it was a fun place to be a teen. I guess I like being somewhere that kind of has a life of its own? Parks and forests are beautiful, but they're also just one thing. Wellington is whatever you want it to be and always changi– what?” he stopped, seeing Stede’s face.

“Nothing, no, it makes sense," Stede covered. “I just… haven’t you like, visited all the greatest cities in the world? New York? Tokyo?”

“Yep, sure have. Wellington’s better,” Ed said with inarguable conviction. 

After Stede had handed out room keys, Ed clapped his hands to get everyone's attention.

"I know lunch is free choice today, but if anyone’s interested, I’m heading to Burger Liquor.”

"Will there be alcohol?" Swede asked, hand half-raised. "I could use a lunch beer." 

"Uh, yep, I believe Burger Liquor does indeed serve liquor," Ed nodded. "Anyone else?" 

###

###

The whole crew – sans Izzy, who was gone as soon as the room keys arrived – ended up coming for lunch. Whereas Stede's unique brand of enthusiasm tended to elicit eye rolling and begrudging participation, Ed's was contagious and magnetic, and the group descended on the restaurant like a group of boisterous teens. 

The liquor part of Burger Liquor didn’t hurt, either. The 19 kilometre “potential” near-death experience no longer seemed to matter as they all spent a good hour in the hip, downtown restaurant indulging in burgers, hard milkshakes and good-natured jokes at each other’s expense. 

It no longer seemed to matter after everyone spilled out, tipsy and full to bursting, into the street, and followed an exuberant Ed to Waitangi Park, where some sort of community music festival was in full swing. 

And, it was very nearly forgotten altogether when, after a few hours of beer and hanging out on the grass listening to live bands and people-watching, Ed corralled the crew onto the Wellington Cable Car for a spectacular photo op of the city. 

###

###

When we were erased we came back here / to the unknown
/ we write ourselves into being again
/ in this ocean of endless potential / 
as the night turns we taste the first 
kiss of dawn
// te pō tahuri mai ki taiao //
a call to arms / we come to know ourselves
in feel / we come in to knowing /
te pōis in the womb / the afterlife / a dark sticky room
tased in late summer heat / draw closer one last time
/ ki te whaiao! / ki te ao marāma!
/ takatāpui  mā / 
maranga mai!

###

###

“What’s takatāpui?” Stede whispered, leaning toward Ed. 

Everyone was lined up along the darkened hallway, Kahu Katia’s work stretched out in vibrant neon along the floor. 

They’d walked along it, pausing to consider the words and share quiet insights. John took pictures, Frenchie took notes. Halfway through, Olu reached out and took Jim’s hand. The mood had sobered, though not literally, but it wasn’t low. It was charged. 
 
“Uh, put really, really simply, it’s a Māori word we use to identify our queerness,” Ed whispered back. He nodded at Stede’s phone, which he was using to take pictures of the exhibit.

“You should look it up.”

###

###

“Stede?”

Stede started, looking up from his phone. Ed was gazing at him in the dim light of the hallway. The others had moved on ahead. 

“I was just- uh,” Stede began, trying to pull himself back into the present. He felt flustered.

“You good?” Ed stepped toward him and put a hand on Stede’s shoulder. 

Stede’s eyes were readjusting to the darkness. 

“Come on,” Ed said, pinching his jacket sleeve and gently pulling him forward. “Let’s catch up.”

###

When they stepped out of Te Papa and back, blinking, into the sun, tired, full of food and music and culture and a sense of belonging, everyone seemed ready to tone things down a little, Ed included. But that didn’t mean he was ready to quit.

“OK, drinks and a show, anyone?” he said, throwing an arm around Oluwande and Stede. 

"Actually," Olu stepped out from under his arm. "Jim and I have sort of a special dinner planned, so." 

"All good! Frenchie - you in?"

Frenchie and John were already walking away.

“They’re checking out a spa," Stede nodding at their retreating backs. 

"And before you ask, we’re headed to an agent party," Roach said apologetically, gesturing to Swede as well. “Active Adventures is launching its 2023 tours.”

“It’s on a boat!” Swede added, excited. 

Ed didn't seem ruffled. "Sounds fun! Pete, Lucius? Drinks?" 

"Well. While we always love being the last two people invited to a bar – thank you for that by the way – Pete here seems to think I need to rest my ankle so we're uh, going to head back to the hotel and… stay off our feet," Lucious smirked. Pete raised his eyebrows. 

"Not subtle at all, love it, respect it, see you tomorrow," Ed waved them off. Then he turned to Stede, his arms spread wide. 

“Let’s roll.”

Chapter Text

They arrived at Fringe Bar just in time to catch the start of its Level Up Comedy Night, which had Stede laughing so hard that Ed ended up laughing more at his reactions to the jokes than at the jokes themselves. 

It had been so refreshing to watch Stede, who hadn’t done any of the day’s activities before, experience Wellington for the first time. Ed couldn’t understand how someone who was so fun to be around, who was so passionate about exploration, had done so little. 

“But Queenstown has comedy bars?” Ed asked after the show had ended, three drinks into his two-drink minimum.

“I think so?” Stede raised his shoulders to his ears. “Live comedy’s never really been our thing – mine and Mary’s, I mean. I’ve seen standup on Netflix,” he finished helpfully. 

“I’m just trying to figure out what you do for fun at home,” Ed said.

Stede thought about it, sipping his own drink through a straw. “I work a lot,” he admitted. “I take the kids hiking in Kahurangi on weekends.”

“What about you and - was it Mary?” Ed ventured, paying very special attention to swirling the ice at the bottom of his glass. 

“Oh, uh,” Stede thought harder. “Mary likes art, goes to a lot of art exhibits, and sometimes I tag along. She’d have liked the one we saw today. We have friends over sometimes, people from her painting club.”

Ed looked at Stede sideways as he drained the last of his drink. “Is that it?”

“I mean, you already know about the adventure gear. What about you?”

“You’re looking at it,” Ed set his glass down on the table and gestured around him. “When I’m not touring, I mean. If I’m in the country, I’m usually here.”

“So all the things we did today, that’s just an ordinary Tuesday for you?” Stede rested his chin on his hands, unabashedly fascinated by Ed. 

“I mean,” Ed shrugged “The company isn’t usually this good.”

Stede sat back again. He seemed absurdly pleased to hear this. 

“Thank you,” he said, somewhat shy, “for letting me tag along today.”

Ed studied him. Stede, he’d recently realized, was in the habit of saying things that were so sincere they sounded almost sycophantic. It sometimes took a moment for Ed to recalibrate his brain and take them at face value. 

“I was going to thank you for humouring me,” Ed said. “I know I – today – was… a lot.”

“Not at all, it was loads of fun,” Stede said with meaning. He then slurped down the rest of his drink. 

“Are you hungry? Because I’m starving.”

###

###

Ed took Stede to a chill little place called Daisy’s, all wooden bistro tables, tealights and servers in denim aprons. He snagged them a table tucked away in the corner and loaded it with tapas.

Stede, being overwhelmed by the eclectic selection, was all too happy to let Ed order.

“Would you eat sweetbreads?” Ed asked, peering over the top of his menu. 

“Only if you’ll split this malbec with me,” Stede returned, pointing at a pricey spot on the wine list. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

###

###

“I’ve never had such an interesting meal before,” Stede observed, finishing off the last piece of smashed peas and ricotta on sourdough. 

“Glad you’re into it,” Ed agreed. “It’s usually hotel food and sandwiches for me when I’m working, so I like to splash out a little when I'm here.”

They’d decided to go bananas and got a second bottle of the malbec for dessert. Stede expressed surprise at how much alcohol Ed could put away, only to have Ed point out Stede had been keeping up with him all day. 

Perhaps, Stede reflected to himself, it was the alcohol that made everything about the day feel so effortless, so easy. 

Maybe it was the libations that made Stede ask Ed so many questions about his life, and maybe it was what made Ed share a little more with him than seemed characteristic, without being asked. 

Stede learned that Ed had started out leading foot tours in the city as a teen, and was hired by an English landowner named Hornigold out of high school, to guide what he called “traditional” Māori nature tours – but what Ed called tourist trap play acting – on his extensive property. After he’d saved enough to get certified as an adventure guide, Ed started hauling food and supplies up Tongariro for other guides, learned enough to start leading day trips himself, then got his first multi-day gig in Australia, which led to more and more work in more and more destinations. 

Ed said he had worked his way up on what he called a natural ability to “fake it” until he made it, earning trekking and alpine guide certifications as much as his income would allow, and seeing the world and climbing as many peaks as he could in the process. 

“Wow, I can’t believe how much you’ve done over the years,” Stede said, then paused with a mischievous smile. “Don’t you… Everest?”

Maybe it was alcohol that made Stede tell more jokes than he would normally find appropriate, given that he didn’t think he was particularly funny. Maybe it was the alcohol that made Ed laugh at them like he was hilarious. 

Maybe, Stede reasoned, uncovering this hazy thought in a distant part of his mind mid-way through malbec #2, it was the wine that made Ed seem particularly nice to look at in the candlelight. 

And just maybe… It was what made Stede feel as though he had known Ed his whole life. 

“So. Stede,” Ed said as dessert arrived (milk pie for Stede, vanilla bavarois for him). “You’re on day three – day four if you count the welcome dinner – of being a guide. Is it everything you wanted it to be?”

Stede thought about this, taking a bite of his pie. “It’s harder than I thought,” he decided. “But so much better than I thought, too.”

“Think you’ll keep doing it?” 

“If I can.”

“What’s stopping you?”

Stede topped them both off and set the bottle down. He was hesitating. 

“Well, the idea of me tramping around the woods and pouring coffee for people on a bus isn’t exactly my father’s idea of a dignified lifestyle,” he finally said. 

“I don’t agree,” he added hastily, as though Ed would be offended. He only laughed. 

“Well obviously, mate – you’re doing it. But…” Ed leaned forward on to his elbows. “I mean, I get that dads can be dicks, but you’re in your forties, so… why does he get a say?”

Stede seemed uncomfortable. He took hold of the stem of his wine glass between his finger and his thumb.

“I think the reason I’m here doing this is because I’m wondering that exact same thing. I guess I thought: if I don’t try it now, I might never get to know what it’s like. I realized that I can’t just wait until he dies; he golfs a lot, so. Pretty healthy.”

Ed pretended to itch his nose with the back of his hand; he wasn’t sure if it was OK to laugh at that one.

“I won’t lie, it was bad when he first found out,” Stede said. “He was… mad. I think you saw my reaction to his reaction when we first met. But…-”

He shook his head in disbelief, smile on his face. 

“-I’m so glad I did it.”

“OK, why?” Ed pushed his dessert toward Stede. Stede completed the trade. 

“Because now I know,” Stede said. “Even if it doesn’t work out, I’ll always have this. He can’t change that.”

“Good for you mate, ” Ed said, sampling Stede’s milk pie. “Oh wow, this is great – I’m keeping this, you can have mine.”

“Uh, no thank you,” Stede reclaimed his plate. “What about you? You’re sort of the opposite, right? Will this be your last tour?”

Ed snorted. “Fuck no. I mean, probably not. Sure, it’d be nice to try something new, but...” he trailed off with a shrug.

“Buuuuut what?” Stede leaned forward.

“Buuut, I worked really hard to get here Stede,” Ed replied. “Doesn’t make sense for me to just throw it all away."

"Would you be throwing it all away?" 

Ed gave a non-committal tilt of his head. "I dunno. Yes? Izzy says it would be." 

Stede leaned back in his chair. "Well I don't mean to be a parrot, but why does he get a say?" 

Ed didn’t respond. 

Stede worried he'd stepped over a line. He felt the urge to fill the silence with something else, a different tact maybe. 

He pulled his phone out, swiped at it a bit, then held it in front of him.

“When we were erased, we came back here,” Stede read off his screen, “to the unknown. We write ourselves into being again, in this ocean of endless potential.”

Ed narrowed his eyes at Stede. 

“Did you just quote Kahu Kutia to me?”

“Yes I did. I found today’s exhibit very… illuminating,” Stede was somewhere between defiant and pleased with himself.

Ed scoffed a laugh. “Do you even know what that means?”

Stede’s smile faltered. “It’s… about how it’s ok to reinvent yourself? That there’s endless potential to- to try something new?”

Ed bit his bottom lip against a bewildered grin. 

“No mate, that’s not what that means.”

###

###

It was after 10 PM when they finally pulled away from Daisy's. 

“What do you think,* Stede said, checking his watch. "Should we call it a night?”

"In a minute," Ed replied. "There's one more thing I think we should do."

###

EMAIL FROM INTREPID TRAVEL TO IZZY

Greetings Mr. Hands,

Thank you for your email. 

I spoke with the Operations team for Italy, Spain and Portugal, and we don't have a record of Mr. Teach requesting placement for the 2023-2024 season. I'm told we reached out to him several times to inquire about his plans for the coming year, but received no response.

All that said, the Operations team did ask I pass along that should Mr. Teach wish to work with Intrepid next season, he would be more than welcome.

Thank you also for your inquiry regarding coach operator placements for 2023. We are currently fully staffed with drivers, but will absolutely keep your qualifications onhand should anything change. 

We look forward to future opportunities to work together.

Kind regards,

Jenna McMalon, administrative manager 

###

“I feel like I have to ask,” Stede said as they stepped out of the Uber and into a dark, empty road 20 minutes outside of downtown. “You haven’t brought me here to murder me, have you?”

“Aw mate, it was supposed to be a surprise,” Ed answered, shutting the door behind him. “No Stede, I’m not going to murder you.”

“OK then, where are we?” Stede knew they were on the coast, by the sound of ocean waves crashing against the shore. He could see Wellington, lit up against the night sky, in the distance.

“Follow me, up here,” Ed flipped on his phone’s torch. They padded along the road until they rounded the corner to arrive at a…

“… lighthouse!” Stede said with the appreciation of someone who wants to get it but absolutely does not get it. 

“Point Halswell Lighthouse,” Ed revealed grandly, taking on a mock formal tour guide stance, hands clasped in front of his chest, eyes and smile wide. 

“Named after Judge Edmund Halswell, who was ‘Protector of Aborigines’ in the late 19th century. If you’ll just follow me…”

Ed led Stede to the top of the rocky crest directly facing the black and white-checked structure, its light shining out to the sea. Below them were a crumbly set of steps and beyond that, a concrete walkway stretching out to the lighthouse. Waves lapped at its edges.

”As you may know, in the 1800s, this spooky thing called colonization happened,” Ed explained to an imaginary group. “And colonizers, well they loved to name things after the people they paid to fuck up our shit. Like giving someone a gold star for dehumanizing people."

Ed gestured to the lighthouse as though in front of an audience of tourists. 

“So this guy’s whole job was to ‘civilize’ us, which included a whole lot of bullshit I won't get into here, but was all done to make it easier to steal our land and erase our cultural identity."

Ed paused, letting the ash from those words settle. Then:

"Apparently, Hallswell did such a good job of that, they immortalized the bastard with an historical monument." 

“Well… he certainly doesn’t sound like the kind of person you should name a lighthouse after,” Stede offered with a disapproving tone, uncertain of what else to say. 

“Well put. Ok let’s go!” With that, Ed turned and bounded down the steps.

“Uh, OK…” Stede bit his lip. “Are we… worried about the tide at all?”

“Nope!” Ed called over his shoulder, already bounding across the walkway toward the lighthouse.

Stede took a moment, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet to psych himself up, and followed.

When he reached the other side, Ed was crouched precariously on the edge of the platform with one foot on the corner ledge, holding onto the doorframe of the lighthouse with one hand and looking for something with the torch of his flashlight.

“Here,” he said, illuminating a white checked part of the structure near its base. 

Stede stepped closer to see what he was pointing at. Scrawled in black marker, in small font, were the words Ed Teach, ‘92.

“What am I looking at?” Stede asked. Ed grinned as he stood and took a big step back over to the main platform. 

“I’ve got a bit of a thing for lighthouses,” he explained. “Whenever I find myself in a place that has one, I find it, and write my name and the date on it.”

He cast his phone’s torch back onto the signature. “I’ve done most of the ones here, plus in Barbados, Canada, even Sri Lanka, but this baby-” he patted the side of the structure - “was my first.”

“So you… vandalize… historic monuments?” Stede summarized, his expression unreadable, “...around the world?”

Ed shrugged, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Why?”

“I mean, not that there has to be a reason to do something this badass,” Ed said, “but I guess… well, we learned about Halswell in school; he’s considered some basic fucking hero. It really pissed me off, so I came out here and did that,” he pointed to his name. “It’s a little thing, but I dunno. It really made me feel better. So I kept doing it.”

Stede stared at him, taking this all in, past the darkness and the waves at his feet, past the wine sloshing around in his brain.

“That's … so neat!” Stede exclaimed. 

Bracing himself on the side of the lighthouse, he stepped a foot over to the corner of the platform for a closer look.

"I noticed the other places you listed were also colonized countries too, so have you–”

Mid-sentence, Stede held his hand back toward Ed, indicating he needed help back over. Instead, Ed handed him a Sharpie. 

“What’s this?” 

“You go,” Ed encouraged, nodding toward his own signature. 

Stede was taken aback. “I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

“Well. It’s your thing. I don’t want to step on your thing,” Stede said. “Just seeing it is enough for me.”

“Well not for me,” Ed said, hands on his hips. “I've told you all about my criminal activities now, Stede. I'm exposed as a vandal, and now I need insurance that you won’t tell anyone."

Stede stared. Ed nudged an errant stone off the walkway and into the brine. 

"So. You can either sign your name, or…” Ed tilted his head to the side and rolled his eyes toward where the stone had just disappeared below the water’s surface.

“I have to sign my name, or you’re going to… throw me into the sea?” 

“Sign your name and put the date.”

“You just said back there that you weren’t going to murder me!” Stede exclaimed. 

Ed shrugged. “That was before I revealed my darkest secret."

Stede scowled, weighing his options. He looked from the lighthouse, to the water, to Ed. 

“Fine,” Stede sighed, uncapping the marker. Ed broke his pseudo-serious stance and skipped, like a little kid, to the edge of the walkway so he could watch. 

Stede wrote his name beside Ed’s: Stede Bonnet, 22.

Ed burst into hysterics. 

“What?!” Stede straightened up, alarmed. 

“I can’t believe you just did that!” Ed doubled over. 

“You said I had to!” Stede yelled back, split between panic and laughter. 

"I didn't think you'd actually do it! I was just fucking with you!”

Ed leaned over for a better look. 

“Oh my god and you put your last name?!” Ed pointed at the words, in total disbelief.

“You put yours!” 

“Yeah but my family doesn’t run one of the biggest corporations in the country,” Ed cackled.

“Shit,” Stede panicked again. Then he saw how hard Ed was laughing and cracked up too. “Shit!”

“Hey, it's like the fruit tray, right? Go big or go home,” Ed offered Stede a hand. “C’mon.”

“One sec.” Stede added a little “+” between their names. 

“This way," he explained conspiratively, "when the authorities investigate, they’ll know we were in it together, not acting alone." 

With that Stede recapped the marker and took Ed’s hand. 

Ed pulled Stede back over to the main platform. Stede turned to admire his work, while Ed admired Stede. 

"You know what's kind of nice," Stede observed. "Now whenever I remember that this lighthouse is here, I won't think of it as 'Point Haswell Lighthouse.' I'll think of it as our lighthouse. Although, I guess that's why you did it in the first place." 

Ed felt his heart quicken. It occurred to him then: Maybe it wasn’t Wellington, or almost–potentially–dying on a mountain that had him so jazzed today. 

Maybe, he thought, it was the fact that he spent 8 minutes and 32 seconds nestled against a man who gave him butterflies, who liked to do things with him, who would be silly with him, who wanted to share a lighthouse with him. 

Maybe. 

“Well I’m relieved,” Ed said finally, putting an arm around Stede’s shoulder as they strolled back up the walkway toward the road. “I really didn’t want to murder you.”

“No,” Stede agreed. “It wouldn’t have been ideal.”

###

Chapter Text

Ed knew, when they finally arrived back at their hotel around midnight, that the last thing they needed was another drink. 

Careful…

He also knew that having Stede in his room at this point was a stupid idea, because he knew – he knew – that nothing could happen with the man who had kids and a wife and had only just learned what takatāpui was. 

Careful… 

But he also knew that he’d never felt so good, so completely full of light and laughter and so seen, in a long time. 

Careful… 

And he wasn’t ready for the night to end. 

That’s how Ed came to be sitting cross legged on his desk across from Stede, who was so toasted he had to lay down, his legs hanging off the end of the bed. 

“I think this was the best day I’ve had in a long time… maybe ever,” Ed said. 

“You know what, me too,” Stede replied, lifting his beer up and tipping it in toast to Ed. “You were right – I don’t have any fun in Queenstown.”

“I never said that.”

“Yeah, but you kind of did.”

“OK, no. See,” Ed climbed off the desk, pointing at Stede accusingly with his beer bottle. “What I said was- fuck!”

Ed knocked his shin on the bedframe and hopped up and down on one leg, wincing, beer spilling onto the carpet. 

“Oh no!” Stede sat up so fast his own beer sloshed forward. 

“Fuck, fuck.” Ed whined. He braced himself on Stede’s shoulder. 

Careful…

“Are you alright?” Stede took hold of Ed’s arm on his shoulder, to help steady him. “I think I heard a crack!”

“Yeah, I think I did too,” Ed lowered himself down to sit beside Stede.

Careful you idiot…

“Should I call Lucius and ask for his weird leg massager?” Stede joked. “You know that thing cost $1300 and they just sent him those for free?”

“He did mention that three or four times, yeah,” Ed rubbed his shin, sat up and started counting on his hand. “OK. So. I’ve gotten day drunk, seen sick art, eaten extremely decent food, visited my–our–lighthouse and I’ve gravely injured myself. I think I can officially say I’ve done Wellington right.”

“Do you do all those things every time you come here?”

“Oh my god, Stede, no, I’m not a young man anymore – I don’t always manage to visit the lighthouse.”

“Oh, so that bit was just you showing off then?” Stede joked, bumping Ed with his shoulder.

Ed held his gaze. 

“Yeah mate,” Ed said. “That’s exactly what that was.”

Careful! Careful! Abort!

They both jumped at a loud knock on Ed’s door. 

###
IZZY'S TEXTING ED
Izzy:Today's the due date. I know you know but still
Izzy: What the fuck Edward 

-Izzy calling Ed-

Izzy: Pick up
Izzy: Where are you
Izzy: would you call me back we need to talk
Izzy: You obviously know what's up since you're avoiding me
Izzy: Call me when you're back srsly. 
###

“I’ve been texting you.” Izzy said when Ed opened the door. 

“Yeah, I haven’t been looking at my phone, ” Ed replied. “What’s wrong?”

Izzy held up his phone. “Spoke with Intrepid today.”

Ed stared at the screen.

“They said they’ve been trying to reach you for weeks,” Izzy shoved it back in his pocket. “I guess you must’ve forgotten all about that-”

“It’s late, come out of the hallway,” Ed said, moving aside. “I was going to tell you,” he continued as Izzy charged past him. 

“When? After the season started and you realized that you needed money? Oh, what the fuck,” Izzy stopped dead when he saw Stede. 

“Hope I'm not interrupting something?" Izzy said in mock embarrassment. 

“I was just leaving,” Stede stood warily. 

Stede scootched past Izzy and stopped beside Ed. 

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," he said apologetically. 

Ed sighed heavily and patted Stede's back as he stepped past him to the door. 

"Night, mate." 

Ed closed the door behind Stede and paused for a moment before turning back to Izzy, who was standing with his arms crossed. 

“Izzy, I have been telling you,” Ed said. “I don’t want to do Europe. I’ve said that.”

“OK, so what’s the plan then, Edward? Going to college? Become an accountant? A doctor? Or do you not have one.”

Ed glared up at the ceiling. 

“Yeah, I thought so." Izzy took a breath and changed his approach.

"Look, you can still apply, they said they’d still take us,” Izzy implored.

Ed was exasperated. “It’s not going to happen, Iz.”

Izzy stared at him. Ed held fast. He saw something flicker in Izzy’s eyes. 

“Right, so where does that leave me?” Izzy asked. “You told me you'd take care of it, so I didn't line up anything else. Now the season is locking up, and I’ll be locked out.”

"I am sorry about that," Ed admitted. "I can make some calls if-" 

"I don't want you to 'make some calls'," Izzy cut him off. "Everything would have been fine if you weren't trying so hard to throw away this living we've both worked for- and for what?"

"Listen-" 

"None of this makes sense, Ed," Izzy pressed on. "We've got a great thing going on–" 

“No Izzy,” Ed drew in a deep breath. He was surprised to realize he wasn't angry, just tired. “You’ve got a great thing going on.” 

Izzy stopped, taken aback.

“It's true, right? I always get the gigs, you follow. And, that’s been… fine. For a long time. But now, maybe – maybe it’s time to try something new.”

“So that's it then?” Izzy had looked away, past Ed now, something darkening in his gaze. "More than a decade togeth– as a team and now you're just… done?" 

Ed wished he'd look at him. 

“I just think, well,” Ed thought back to dinner. “That I need to try. Or else… I'll never know."

Something seemed to wash over Izzy then. First a look of deep hurt, then a coldness. He finally looked up at Ed, his jaw set. 

“OK then. Go ahead, make a lovely new life for yourself, never mind that you haven't been on your own in years. Just tell me this,” Izzy said, his eyes flashing. 

“What are you going to do when you've found the life you think you're missing, then realize that even then, you’re still an unmotivated, unpleasant shell of a man who needs constant babysitting? What then?”

Ed didn't react, not really. His lips parted, and his brow creased slightly, but otherwise he was very still.

"You won't have me to prop you up, to manage your increasingly erratic moods, or the other guides when they're worried about your judgment," Izzy listed off angrily. 

"And if you think Bonnet is going to stick around and be that for you, you need to wake the fuck up," he added. 

"Don't," Ed said quietly. 

"I'm serious Edward. Your new buddy is going to either get bored or burn out and take off, because people like him, well, they like everything to be shiny and bright. And you can't keep that act up forever. Sooner or later, you always-" 

"Shut up Izzy," Ed snapped. "Just shut up. You don't know as much as you think you do." 

Izzy raised his eyebrows. 

"I know that you likely spent this whole day on a high. I know that Bonnet probably ate that fun, sparkly Ed right up. But what about when you’re not so much fun? Will he put up with you then? Cover for you? Stick around when you're-" 

“OK. Time to go ,” Ed announced, heading to the door. He opened it and waited, blinking hard. "I mean it, Iz. Fuck off." 

For a moment it seemed as though Izzy would refuse. But then, he left, out into the hallway. Then, he turned back to face Ed, imploring. 

“You know I’m right, Edward-”

Ed let the door go, and it slowly whooshed shut. 

###
STEDE TEXTING ED
Stede: Sorry ducked out so fast - thoght id be in the way. Thks again for such a fub day. Sorry did I keave me key in your rom? 
###

Stede had just made it up to his room when, after fumbling around in his pockets and wallet for a while in the ineffective way drunk people do, turned back around and reluctantly headed for the elevator again. He couldn't find his key card. 

Stede considered going back to Ed's room to see if it was there, but the thing with Izzy felt rather intense, so it didn't seem right. He texted first. 

Then, as if it had heard Stede's thoughts, the elevator stopped on Ed's floor. But when the doors open, Stede audibly groaned. 

"Ugh, it's you," Stede greeted Izzy, all professionalism having melted away with the help of alcohol and the fact that he'd probably never see him again after tonight. 
 
At first, Izzy stepped back, repelled into taking the stairs. But then, he got into the car with Stede, and when they'd started moving again, he pulled the emergency stop button. 

"Hello, do you need assistance?" a voice crackled over the intercom. 

"No, fuck off," Izzy told it while glaring at Stede. 

The intercom crackled and went dead.

"The fuck have you been telling him?" Izzy demanded, cutting to the chase. 

"What are you talking about?" Stede crossed his arms. 

"Ed's been complaining about this job for years, but he's never actually wanted anything to change," Izzy said, leaning into Stede's personal space. 

"Now he might actually ruin his life in pursuit of a whim – and there's only one other person I know who's stupid enough to do that." 

"I'll have you know I haven't said anything to Ed that he wasn't already talking about himself," Stede shot back. He stewed for a moment, offended by Izzy’s accusation. Then he rounded on him again. 

"And you know, the Ed I just spent the day with is more than capable of building whatever kind of life he wants," Stede added, indignant. "Anyway, aren't you his friend? Aren't you supposed to want that for him?" 

Izzy scoffed a laugh. It was a weird laugh, kind of hollow and dry. 

“Oh, I bet you both just had such a lovely time today, right, Bonnet?"

Izzy's smile faded. 

"Well I hope you enjoyed yourself, because the witty, bubbly, drunk Edward you just spent the day with? That was the high. But the low is coming. And there's always, always a low.”

Stede opened his mouth and then closed it again. 

“Wait until he’s so moody he won’t get off the bus," Izzy said in a low, cold voice. 

"Or when he disappears in the middle of a hike. Or when he makes stupid mistakes with the weather that almost get you killed – remember that? 

"I know what Ed can handle, and what he can't handle," Izzy continued, "because I've been there. I've seen it all. So don't fucking talk to me about what I should or shouldn't want for him. Because you’ve no clue, Bonnet– it's been three days. Try fifteen fucking years.”

Stede didn't know what to say, so he merely reached past Izzy and pushed in on the emergency stop button. The elevator lurched and started to lower down for the lobby. 

“But then what am I saying?” Izzy scoffed. “You’ll be gone long before you ever really know him properly. Back to your daddy and your cushy life, as soon as you get bored.”

"Excuse me?" Stede said, wishing he sounded more confident. 

"I doubt anyone’s ever explained this to you, but most people don’t get to just choose new lives whenever we want, or step all over other people to get them. It's not a game for us –we actually have something to lose. Ed actually has something to lose. So just remember that when you decide to take off and leave him the way you did your family."

Stede did a double take. 

"Oh yeah," Izzy said coolly. "I know all about that. Called the head office on day one to ask why the fuck they would send out such an imbecile." 

Stede felt a familiar tingling in the tips of his fingers. 

"And Hornberry," Izzy pressed on, "told me you're in a whole heap of trouble with your daddy because you took off on your wife and kids – just because you felt like it." 

The elevator reached the lobby. Izzy stepped off but turned and stood in the doorway, almost frightening in his withering resentment. 

“I see you, Bonnet. You use people, and then you leave them like it's nothing. You call yourself a guide, but when it comes to people, you’re really just a tourist.”

He stepped back then, letting the doors slide shut, leaving Stede alone… and still needing to talk to the front desk about his key. 

###

Izzy didn’t really sleep, so he was incredibly early for the ferry the next morning. He ate his roll, drank his tea, and stewed while he waited. 

It was his last day of the tour, and it could be his last job, at least until next year. Maybe he could drive a city bus. Or – ugh – do a tour in Canada. 

What the fuck was wrong with Edward? He’d been bitching for ten out of the fifteen years they’d worked together – it was never serious. He just liked to complain. It was probably why they got along – Izzy liked to bitch, too. 

It seemed real this time, though, and he couldn't really tell: Did Edward not want to work anymore, or did he just not want to work with him anymore? 

Fucking Bonnet, he thought in response to the pang in his heart. Providing just enough newness, just enough of a distraction. More than enough change. 

Bonnet was in every way the opposite of Izzy. And he seemed to have broken Ed's brain, because he seemed so drawn to that ponce, like a moth to a flame. 

Well – fuck them both. Stede could have Ed and his moods until he gave up, and Ed could go fuck around and find out what it was like to fly solo without someone to cover for him.

It wouldn't be long before Ed was calling him up, Izzy was fairly certain. 

Izzy launched himself out of his chair, no longer able to sit still. He decided to check the bus one more time, to make sure everyone’s bags were accounted for. 

Outside in the parking lot, he dug through the hold of the bus, reading luggage tags and his clipboard. Then he paused. He saw a flash of blue. He reached past a duffel that read O. Boodhari to grab a small blue pack that was shoved into the corner. 

Upon seeing the stash of cereal, cake, fruit, veg and bags of dehydrated Firepot meals, Izzy realized it was the pantry pack for the day’s camping trip. 

Pulling it out from inside the coach, Izzy checked his phone. 6:12 AM. They’d already be at the airport. 

He could leave it for them to pick up in Picton before he returned the coach in Nelson. Izzy swiped through to text Edward, give him the heads up. 

Then he stopped.

He tucked his phone away, heaved the pack into a nearby dumpster, and climbed back onto the bus. 

Chapter Text

MAP FROM WELLINGTON TO SOUTH ISLAND AND ABEL TASMAN NATIONAL PARK

STEDE TEXTING GROUP

Hi all! 

I hope you all enjoyed Wellington yesterday! 

Today we say goodbye to the North Island and fly into Picton, where we’ll meet our new driver for the South Island portion of the tour, Mr. Buttons.

From there, we’ll head into Abel Tasman National Park, for a sea kayaking trip to our overnight campout at Bark’s Bay! Our new driver will have sleeping bags for us to bring with us to the campsite, but don't worry - there'll be a bunkhouse to protect us from the elements. 

I hope you’ve all packed your swimsuits; the beach there is supposed to be beautiful. 

See you all in the lobby at 6:00 AM for the airport shuttle!

“Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.”
― Andre Gide

###
STEDE TEXTING ED
Stede: Morning! How are you feeling because I am ROUGH. Remind me to drink more water next time.
Stede: Remind me to drink water, period. Breakfast? 

-1 hour later -

Stede: Are you up? Flights at 7?

### 

When his phone pinged from somewhere in his room, Ed opened his eyes to an anchor on his chest. Hugging his pillow into his stomach, he kept the blankets over his head. 

He’d not slept much, and now he was hungover. His eyes were sore, his head was pounding. 

His pillow was damp. His heart ached.

Ever since they’d met, Izzy had had a knack for, when he wanted to – usually when he was annoyed – tapping into a part of Ed that could make him feel like a little kid. 

Over the years, Ed found that ignoring or making light of Izzy's attitude helped avoid that feeling. 

But Izzy also knew, when he wanted to – usually when Ed needed it most – exactly how to be there for him. Which distraction would push him out of some dark place, and how to bring him down when he flew too high. 

This meant that Izzy had seen sides of Ed that he never willingly shared with anyone else. Better for them to think he was a dick, or a drunk, some racist stereotype or bad at his job.

Izzy knew what was really there, but the thing about Izzy was, he always showed up for Ed with detached practicality; treated the symptoms but never made him talk about it, never asked questions. Never made Ed feel like there was something wrong with him. 

Until last night.

Ed had realized, somewhere between kicking Izzy out and curling up under the covers, it wasn't so much the words Izzy had said that were crushing him.

It was the fact that Izzy had always acted as though it was… OK for Ed to have ups and downs, to need more space sometimes – and had never asked Ed to try to change that. 

Then, last night, he made it clear that it wasn't OK. That it had never been OK. 

That Ed had been exhausting Izzy, and inconveniencing him, for years. 

That there was indeed something very wrong with Ed, and that Izzy knew this, because he had been keeping score. 

In addition to hurting like hell, this bitter piece of clarity had prompted a question, sharp and cruel, to begin haunting the peripherals of Ed’s mind:

If Izzy, who had known Ed for years, had really seen him, but - it turns out - had never actually liked what he saw… 

What chance did he have with anyone else? 

###

Nathaniel Buttons loved birds. That much was clear when they found him in the airport parking lot, throwing crackers at and having a frank conversation with a flock of seagulls. 

“You must be Mr. Buttons,” Stede greeted him, holding out a hand. 

“Aye,” Buttons confirmed, dusting off cracker crumbs and shaking with Stede. “I’ll be takin’ ye tae Abel Tasman n then on from there.”

“Well it’s very nice to meet you,” Stede said, going on to introduce the rest of the group. 

###
NO-GUIDE GROUP CHAT
Frenchie: So…  is anybody ask this dude why he has like, six birds on him rn
Roach: I’m kind of scared to draw attention to it
John: Oh thank god I’m not the only one who noticed
Jim: Pretty fuckin hard not to notice 
John: well I thought maybe I was hallucinating 
Jim:?? 
Frenchie: John and I may or may not have partaken in some hoity toity recreational substances last night 
Olu : uh, I think it's "partook" Mr fancy pants Travel + Leisure journalist 
John: drugs. We did drugs. Made the whole night really magical 
Pete: maybe cut it out guys you look weird all standing around texting 
Frenchie : yeah wouldn't want to weird out the bird guy

###

“Hey guys, are we in a rush to get to Bark Bay, or can we take some time to do a bit of video work when we pick up the kayaks?” Pete approached Stede and Ed as they followed Buttons to the bus. 

“Oh, I think we’ll have plenty of-” Stede started, but Ed cut him off. 

“It’d be better if you wait til we get to the campsite,” he told Pete. “We’re going to want to take our time getting there, see some wildlife, but we also need to beat the sunset with extra time to spare. The bay itself is sheltered though, and we reserved the whole thing. You can take all the time you want once we’re there.”

Pete climbed onto the bus, and Stede turned to Ed. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have presumed there,” he apologized. “I know that part is your department.”

“No worries.”

Stede watched Ed head up into the coach without another word, trying to ignore the tense and prickly feeling creeping over him. He was used to associating that feeling with people like Mary and his father – people who were regularly fed up with him. 

Ed had been awfully quiet, if not a little curt, all morning. First at the airport, then on the plane, and again now. 

While he suspected it had something to do with Izzy, Stede wasn’t sure exactly what had been said in Ed’s room after he left. 

So he had a gnawing feeling that, perhaps, in an effort to convince Ed not to quit, Izzy had taken all the shitty things he thought about Stede to Ed as well – and that now, Ed was chewing on them. 

Stede felt the prickly feeling tighten its grip on his chest. It was true he hadn’t had to work for anything in his life, that his father had handed him everything. But was he really just a tourist? Would he eventually get bored and take off? 

Stede didn’t think so. But – wasn’t that what he’d just done to Mary and Alma and Louis? 

Maybe it was the hangover (which really wasn’t helping things), but Stede’s stomach was twisted tight. 

Stede just wished Izzy hadn't been so horribly right about the things he'd said. 

He was learning a lot from Ed, yes, but using him? Wouldn't a person know if they were using someone? Stede hadn't wanted to use or hurt anyone by doing this trip. He’d just wanted to prove he could be something… other than himself. 

But then, he realized, his heart sinking like a stone: That was exactly what Izzy had been talking about.

###

###

After nearly three hours on a bus, save for a leg stretch and a lunch stop in Richmond, they arrived in Kaiteriteri, a seaside tourism town in the Tasman region of Abel Tasman National Park. 

The beaches were positively tropical, stunning green-blue against soft golden sand. It was hard to believe they’d been trekking in the bush with beanies and raincoats only a day ago. 

Mr. Buttons dropped them at the kayak outfitter, where Ed spent a few minutes discussing their route with the owner before assigning everyone their kayaks. 

“Oh,” Stede said, when Ed pointed him to his very own vessel. “Are we not… going with a guide?”

“Stede, you are the guide,” Lucius said as he walked by. 

“I know kayaking in the ocean sounds intimidating but we’ve all done it a bunch of times,” Swede said. “Just follow us.”

“Only,” Stede said to Oluwande and Swede in a lowered voice as Ed paired Roach with a vessel, “I’ve never actually been in a kayak before, so…”

“How did you end up leading an adventure tour?” Olu exclaimed, a reminder to Stede that not everyone was privy to his inexperience. 

“I’m… mostly a tramper!” he insisted. “I thought we’d– I don’t know, be in those double kayaks where the guide sits in the back and does all the paddling?”

“It’s not that hard,” Swede insisted. “Once you get going it’s easy – getting in is the hardest part.”

“Just watch what we do.”

###

###

Swede wasn't wrong. Getting into a kayak was easier said than done, even with the refresher runthrough that Ed provided to the group.

When it was Stede’s turn to lower himself into the kayak from his spot on the beach, he was hopelessly off balance, and couldn’t quite get inside the thing without having to put his legs back on solid ground for balance.

“Alright Stede?” Ed finally asked as he prepared to launch his own kayak into the water. The rest of the group was already paddling their way around the cove. 

“Oh yes, no problem,” Stede said cheerily. “Just getting the hang of it–” 

In an attempt to hop into the kayak like Frenchie had just done, Stede put too much weight on his right side and tipped, with the kayak, into the water. 

The fact that the water was less than a foot deep did very little for Stede’s pride. 

“You’ve got to find your center of balance,” Ed said, holding the back of Stede’s kayak steady so he could try again. “Make sure your legs are bowed, so your feet are touching but your knees are apart.”

Stede slid into the cockpit and tried following Ed’s instructions, pressing his upper thighs against the braces on either side. 

“Like this?” Stede asked, leaning back so Ed could check, but Ed stayed where he was. 

“Are your legs bent?”

“Yes.”

“Feet almost touching?”

Stede wriggled a bit. “I think so.”

“Then it should be fine.”

“OK, then, I think I’m ready,” Stede affirmed. 

Ed pushed his kayak into the water until the sand fell away from the hull. 

Suddenly, Stede’s right leg cramped, and he straightened it quickly in response. This meant he tilted right too quickly, and lost his balance. 

To keep from capsizing, he plunged his paddle into the two feet of water beneath him, completely aware of how clumsy he seemed.

“Seriously, are you comfortable doing this?” Ed asked. "Kayaking in the ocean isn't a game, you shouldn't mess with it if you're not experienced." 

"It's not a game for us Bonnet, we actually have something to lose." 

Stede, who was facing away from Ed, was glad he couldn't see how hurt he was. 

Stede understood Ed didn’t want to mess around with water safety, but Ed also knew he wasn't experienced. Did he just not want him along? 

Flustered, Stede bent his leg again, pulled his paddle up and found balance. 

“Uh, no, I mean yes! I’ll get it,” he said, positioning himself. These stupid things were so uncomfortable. “Just, uh, give me a moment.”

“Can you turn yourself around?” Ed asked.

Stede made an attempt, but it was very awkward, and he ended up beaching the bow at Ed’s feet. 

“Listen, Stede…" Ed bent down so no one else could hear. "If you’re not up for this, it might be better for you to stay behind with Buttons,” Ed said. 

Stede felt his ears and cheeks grow hot. He forced himself to look up at Ed. He looked tired, yes, but also… different in a way that Stede couldn’t quite place. 

One thing was clear, though: There was no sign of the Ed from yesterday. 

You’re just a tourist. 

“No, no, I’m definitely not staying behind!” Stede said, putting on his brightest smile and using his paddle to clumsily push away from Ed, backing further into the bay. “I’ll get it!”

Maybe Ed was giving Stede an out just in case he didn't want to stick around. Or, maybe he just didn't want Stede to drown in the sea. Either way, Stede wanted to prove him wrong. 

Stede dipped his paddle into the water on his left, then on his right. Again, and then again. He was gliding smoothly through the green-blue sea, the sun on his face, the breeze in his hair. 

He beamed at no one in particular. He was doing it! 

“Drop your rudder,” Ed called from shore. At this, Stede turned quickly to look back over his shoulder at Ed, promptly lost his equilibrium, overcorrected, and rolled right into the water. 

“For fuck sake,” was the last thing Stede heard Ed groan, before he plunged beneath the surface.

###

###

“Once you get the hang of this, it’s really quite fun!” Stede remarked, lifting his paddle above his head in triumph, wind in his hair. 

"You know, it's a lot easier when both of us are paddling?" Swede piped up from behind Stede. 

"Right, sorry!" Stede said, dipping his oar back into the water. 

After his dip in the bay, Ed was ready to leave Stede on shore, but Swede had swept in, feeling bad after telling Stede how easy it was, and offered to double up. 

This had put them behind somewhat, as George the kayak rental owner had to find a tandem that wasn't already on the water, but Swede, it turned out, had been kayaking since he was a boy, so they were still able to make pretty good time – as long as Stede was paddling too. 

The journey from Kaiteriteri to Bark Bay was like something out of a postcard. The sky was clear, the sun bright, and the water an exquisite aquamarine. They also had plenty of company. 

They stopped to observe a pod of dolphins feeding off a nearby reef, and slowed down their pace to welcome a few curious fur seals, who followed them for half a mile, popping their heads out of the water every twenty feet or so to get a better look at their party. 

“These fur seals, or kekenos,” Ed explained, the first to spot them pop up just behind Roach’s kayak, "are just one of the many species found in Abel Tasman. 

“The park, which was named after – you guessed it, a European dude – has some really spectacular wildlife, including blue penguins, the world’s smallest penguin.”

Ed led the group closer to shore, and bid them to listen to the forest. It was alive with birdsong.

“So what you’re hearing is mostly Tui and bellbird,” he explained. “But these songs are nothing compared to what early Europeans described hearing when they first came here. One ship captain wrote in his journal that the sound of the birds along the shore was deafening.

“Like with Whirinaki," Ed continued, leading the group along the edge of the cove and back out to the main track, "things like logging and invasive predators depleted the numbers of native birds over the years. The sound we’re hearing indicates that conservation efforts are working.”

Stede observed Ed while he was speaking. He was doing his job, certainly, but there was a dullness to him. If anyone else noticed this, it didn't show; they were all listening intently from their kayaks, and taking photos with their phones and cameras. 

###

###

They were scheduled to spend the night at the Bark Bay campground, where there was a bunkhouse, restroom and cooking station just off the beach. 

The sojourn was meant to feel like a bit of a rustic beach getaway-meets-camping trip; to show off the diversity of Aotearoa’s natural landscapes. 

When they arrived into the bay, they were surprised to see a party of four boats and about a dozen men ashore. They’d lit a fire on the beach and were standing around, drinking and talking loudly. 

“Probably fishermen,” Ed said to Stede, paddling up beside him.

“I thought this was a wildlife reserve?” Stede asked.

“It is, but the reef back there behind us is outside the boundary and that's fair game,” Ed said.

“They’re awfully loud,” Stede observed. "Should we-" 

“They’ll probably head out before sundown.” Ed backed his kayak up and returned the group. 

Ed led everyone to the other end of the beach, where they pulled their kayaks ashore. 

Once they had all brought their packs and sleeping bags to the bunkhouse, the guests hit the beach while Stede and Ed decided to get things set up for dinner and a fire. 

Stede was organizing the plates and utensils when Ed jogged down to the kayaks and started digging through them all, looking for something. 

He jogged back up and looked inside the water bin, which was just extra jugs of water.

“No,” Ed said, pulling Stede’s pack away from him and emptying it onto the sand. "No, no, no, no-" 

He looked down at the contents, then sat back, his eyes wide in horror. “Shit fuck.”

“What’s happening?” Stede asked, taking in the scene. “What’s wrong?”

“The food,” Ed stated, his voice hollow. “I think I forgot the fucking food.”

“Oh,” was all Stede could say. Ed stood up, and looked around, as if a solution might pop out of the trees.

“This is bad,” Ed said, taking a few steps forward, stopping then taking a step back. “I don’t think anyone brought anything.”

“I have a bag of granola bars from the bus,” Stede offered. “Or someone could paddle to town, bring something back?”

Ed shook his head. “No, it’s going to be dark soon. He ran his hands through his hair. "Fuck!”

“OK, OK,” Stede scrambled to his feet, more alarmed at Ed’s reaction than the situation at hand. 

"I need to think–"  

“Well let’s not panic,” Stede interjected. “We’ll go to bed hungry tonight – we’re all healthy, we’ll survive on granola bars. Then, we’ll kayak back first thing tomorrow and treat everyone to a nice big breakfast in town. People might be a little cranky, Lucius will be insufferable but hey – part of every good adventure is a little suffering, right?”

“Hey guys,” Pete approached then slowed, sensing a disturbance. “Everything cool?”

“Oh yes Pete!” Stede greeted him. “What can we do for you?”

“Well – this is annoying, sorry – but some of those  guys on the beach keep getting in our shot. It wouldn't be a big deal normally, but we only have one chance at a sunset and you did say we'd have the beach to ourselves so…"

Ed and Stede looked where Pete had nodded to. Four of the men were messing around with a rugby ball along the edge of the water, running the length of the beach. 

"What do you want to happen here, Pete?" Ed asked. 

"Have you tried talking to them?" Stede added. 

Pete looked from Ed to Stede. 

"Yeah… kind of, but they seemed pretty drunk, and I just…" Pete shrugged, glancing back at Ed. "I thought Ed might have more luck." 

"And why’s that?" Ed said. There was an edge to this. 

Pete could tell he'd said something wrong but wasn't sure what. "Well just, you're all” he gestured with his hands that Ed was tall “...outdoorsy and… and I'm… me," he explained, gesturing that he was less tall. 

Ed rolled his eyes and started shoving the items he'd dumped onto the sand back into their pack. 

"Erm, perhaps if Ed and I both explain the situation," Stede began, but Ed set the pack down hard on the ground and stood up. 

"We kind of have bigger problems to deal with right now, Stede. And to be honest Pete, I'm not that keen on getting knocked out by some drunk dickheads just so you can add another sunset picture to the fucking internet. OK?" 

Stede shook the prickly feeling out of his fingers and put a hand on Pete's shoulder. "Can you give us a moment Pete?" 

Pete trudged off muttering about sunset pictures literally being his job, and Stede turned slowly back to Ed. 

"So–" 

"Before you say anything," Ed pinched the bridge of nose with his fingers, "I know. I know, OK? I fucking know." 

"I--" Stede started, then stopped. "I think you're right. No reason why Pete and I can't talk to them ourselves. Why don't I go do that, and you--" 

"Jesus Stede, can you stop?" 

Stede stopped. 

"Just… stop trying to fix everything for one minute so I can think." 

Ed didn't seem angry, not really. He hadn't even raised his voice. But it still stung. 

Stede swallowed, looked at his feet. Then Stede frowned and raised his chin. He was not a tourist. 

"You know what?" his voice trembled a bit, his fear of conflict lodged in his throat. 
"We're the guides – we're supposed to fix things, as a team. So, I want to do that…" 

Stede paused, flexing his fingers at his sides, “Even if it makes me annoying." 

Ed looked stricken. 

"Stede–" 

He turned to the side, almost away from Ed. 

Stede remembered to breathe then. He couldn't feel his hands, but he was breathing. 

And he was glad he'd done that.

Ed, on the other hand, could only hear his heart pounding in his ears. Shame, hot and thick and making him nauseous, overwhelmed his senses and he couldn't stay there anymore, it was just too much because all things Izzy had said were happening and he felt like he couldn't stop it. 

Backing away from Stede, Ed turned and disappeared into the bush. 

###
NO-GUIDE GROUP CHAT
Pete: Ed's acting fucking weird, am I wrong
Frenchie: No, something is definitely up
Olu: he just literally fled into the forest, I'd say something is wrong. 
Jim: Ugh, look at Stede
Lucius: That's a sad boi right there
Swede: Maybe Ed's just hungry. I'm starving 
Olu: Yeah, I don't think that's it, Swede 
Lucius: Guys. Do we think… 
Roach: what 
Swede:? 
Pete:? 
Jim:? 
Lucius: I mean, they spent the whole day and it seems like the evening together yesterday… maybe this is some kind of…sexy spat? 
Frenchie: You're nuts. Stede's married
Swede: and straight? 
Lucius: oh honey. 

###

With the sun creeping its way toward the horizon, the bush was full of shadows, and much darker than when it had a sun streaming through the canopy at midday. 

Ed didn’t care. He just needed to move, and the forest felt enclosed, familiar.

His head was spinning, sick with the bitterness of knowing he'd been a dick to Stede, and feeling totally powerless to do anything about it. 

The anchor in his chest was heavier than ever, weighed down by shame, anger and fucking emptiness. 

Fuck. Izzy. 

Ed came to a fork in the trail and chose the path snaking its way up to a lookout point. He started hiking upward. Getting far away was the goal. Create space between him and Stede so he couldn't do any more damage. 

The resistance from the steep slope created a heat in Ed’s chest that helped stave off the numbness that was starting to spread; the fortress of protection being set in place by his nervous system.

All day, Ed had heard himself get annoyed, saw himself roll his eyes, felt himself withdraw, and watched, cringing, as Stede kept trying to stick it out. He would have liked to have more patience, but he also felt so drained. 

And besides, he thought on more than one occasion that day, if he was nothing but a shell of a man, why fuck around with pretending? 

It’d been a long time since he’d felt this shitty, and the only thing Ed hated more than feeling this way was himself for feeling this way, for not being able to be more professional, for being a drag, for not being what Izzy wanted him to be. 

For being anything less than generous with Stede.

These sentiments had flip flopped back and forth all day, taking turns tearing little chunks out of him, but forgetting the food had pushed him over the edge. 

No matter where his head was at, Ed was always, always good at his job. It was something he could cling to in the hardest times. Sometimes, being good at his job was the only thing that made him feel like himself. 

Now though, there were doubts springing forth, infecting his head like insidious shadows, flickering and intangible and difficult to make out in the dark. 

Mess. Sloppy. Erratic.

Izzy was right – Ed was being careless, making mistakes. 

So what else was he right about?

Ed winced as his bad knee began protesting at the steepness of the incline, and the speed he was going. He kept pushing through, but his worries and Izzy's words kept up the pace too and he couldn’t escape them.

I need to wake the fuck up.

What if my worst parts follow me somewhere new?

What then? 

Sooner or later, I always burn out.

Why can’t I be shiny or bright?

This yearning bloomed within Ed like a drop of blood in water, curling and unfurling and spilling out onto the trail in concert with his ragged breath.

Ed came to the lookout point. It was a bluff that had been cleared of brush to make way for a bench, now home to only a slender young tree that had grown from a crack in the dirt. 

Panting, Ed leaned on the back of the bench and placed a hand on his chest, which felt like it was sagging under the weight of the anchor. 

The sunset was glorious, casting the clouds above it and sand below it in a candy pink glow. 

Ed stepped around the bench and right up to the ledge. He gazed down, down, down to where the blue-green waves were crashing spectacularly into explosions of white upon the rocks. It was so loud up there, so wide open, and the view went on to the horizon, yet he also felt very alone. 

Alone was fine. Alone was safe. 

But did it have to hurt so fucking much? 

He closed his eyes. He wished he was somewhere else, someone else. Someone whose heart didn't swing so wildly. 

Someone who didn’t get so caught up in new places, ideas, people and then drop to brutal depths when they changed, aged or disappeared. Someone who could control their emotions. Someone who deserved things. 

He opened his eyes. The sun was in its final moments. Work Ed, usually the only part of him loud enough to compartmentalize these feelings and pull him back into reality, spoke up from some obscure, distant corner of his mind and ordered him home before dark. 

Ed wiped his face with the heels of his hands. He knew he was going to listen to that part, go back to camp and maybe even talk to Stede. Do better. Yeah, maybe he would.

But shit, that felt impossible. 

Ed looked down again. Rocks, jagged and layered, slick with sea spray and kelp. 

He could, but he wouldn’t, he knew that. 

He just wished – no, wondered, sometimes, that was all. 

Stop being so dramatic. 

Ed inched forward so his toes were on the ledge. Below him, waves threw themselves against the rocks again and again, violent and reliable. 

He could. 

But he wouldn't. 

The sound of the sea and wind filled Ed’s ears. His heartbeat felt harsh against his ribcage. He closed his eyes, felt the sea breeze cool his cheeks. Tasted salt in the air, on his lips. 

He found himself thinking he could let the anchor lead him somewhere else – somewhere new like he wanted, but where there was no chance of his worst parts following.

He could. 

But he wouldn’t.

Stop being so dramatic. 

Ed closed his eyes again. He wanted to flood his senses with the sound of the ocean, rhythmic and wild and beautiful.

He wanted to pretend none of the past 24 hours had happened. Take control. Make everything stop hurting. 

He could. 

He lost his balance. 

Ed's eyes flew open. He panicked, fought for balance, slipped, and grasped behind him, gripping the sapling behind him to correct himself. 

It was only a fraction of a second, but it was scary enough that adrenaline shot like lightning through Ed's body, his heart jolted, his blood rushed, and his nervous system roared back to life.

Just enough that the anchor lost its weight. 

This cleared the way for other, less utilized, parts of Ed to sweep in and urge him back to safety, to people, wherever he wouldn’t be alone. 

Breathing heavily, Ed pulled himself away from the ledge, by gripping the tree, knuckles white. He rested his forehead against the trunk, catching his breath and trying to stop shaking, afraid to turn around and face what had almost happened. 

Then, propelled by the adrenaline and the horror of what could've happened – what he could've done, Ed fled back into the forest, back toward camp. 

###

###

When Ed emerged from the treeline, it was dusk. The beach was empty; the fishermen were gone, and the group had moved up to the firepit, which was bustling with activity and chatter.

The fire was being stoked by Oluwande, using wood the Swede was bringing over from a nearby shed. John and Frenchie were laying out cups and cutlery, finishing the job Stede had started. 

Pete was rinsing off a pile of fish that Jim and Roach were gutting into a bucket and piling them on a tray, while Lucius helpfully recorded them on his phone.

“Ah, you’re just in time!” Stede said, approaching Ed from the side. He was carrying a nylon bag bursting with cans of beer. 

“S’cuse me Ed, just need to– got drinks all!” he declared, maneuvering around Ed to reach the group.

Everyone dove in. “Easy up, there’s enough for everyone! And they gave me a bottle of something stronger, if you’d rather.”

Oluwande arrived at Ed’s side, holding two beers. Ed shook his head, with thanks. 

“So–?” Ed asked, gesturing to Jim with the fish, then Olu with the beer. Olu cracked his open and took a sip.

“It was all Stede,” he shrugged. “Walked right up to those guys and talked them into swapping their day’s catch and, clearly, a lot of beer, for a bunch of stuff out of his backpack."

“So he told you about the food then,” Ed said, watching Stede doled out beer to Roach and Jim like he was some kind of boozy Santa Clause. 

"No, he didn’t say anything about that – he actually tried to pass this all off to us as a flourish, but," Olu chuckled. "I mean, we all watched him make the trade, so.”

“Jim says five more minutes for the fish,” Stede told them, arriving at Ed’s side. “But they asked me to send you over to help, Olu.” 

Olu handed Stede the second beer and ducked away, leaving Stede and Ed by the fire. 

Stede caught Ed staring at him.

“What?” he asked innocently, a smile playing in the corners of his mouth, popping the tab of his beer like a punctuation. 

“The hell did you do?”

“Oh, not much really,” Stede said with an air of false humility. He took a heroic swig of beer and then promptly spit it out. 

"Ugh, no, still too hungover," he grimaced. "Anyway, they had supplies and I had gadgets, so I thought they might want to make a trade. It was– what do they call it? Serendipity!” 

“So you made friends with the fishermen?”

“Oh my, no – they were very impolite actually. But they liked my watch, so-”

“You traded your watch for some fish?”

“Yep, and a waterproof bluetooth speaker I had, plus the Adventure Flask-”

“-the flask-flashlight-compass?” Ed gaped at him. Stede nodded, acknowledging the loss. 

“That one hurt, I’ll admit.” He sighed and toasted an imaginary gadget in the sky.

“You didn't need to do that, Stede," Ed glanced at the party happening around them. "It was my fuckup." 

Stede looked confused by this. 

"Ed. We're a team," he said, as though Ed may have forgotten. Like it was the simplest idea in the world. 

"Yeah but – all your stuff?" 

Stede shrugged. “Didn’t need all that. They’re just toys.”

“For fish and beer.”

“Plus some apples, and a dozen lovely muffins for tomorrow’s breakfast!” Stede added, as though that made a huge difference.

Ed looked around. Everyone was having a great time. Jim was wielding a knife like it was a magic wand. Frenchie and John were cheering Swede on as he poorly shotgunned a beer. Roach was chasing Lucius with two handfuls of fish guts while Pete laughed. 

“Everybody’s pitched in for the prep,” Stede said, seeing Ed watching the others. 

“But," he added, his tone even and neutral,"we need someone who knows how to turn a pile of raw fish into something delicious."

He nudged Ed with his elbow. 

"Do you happen to know anyone? Maybe a foodie with a flair for the culinary arts?” 

Stede smiled at him, something hopeful in his eyes, something delicate. It made Ed want to reach out and touch it – but he shook that away and chose distraction. Sweet, safe, unfeeling distraction. 

“Uh, yeah, I think I can work with this," he rubbed his hands together, thinking. 

"Got any more of that marmalade?”

###

###

After everybody had had their fill of orange-glazed grilled snapper and baked apples stuffed with fire-crisped granola – as well as beer and Stede's distinctly underwhelming ghost stories – the sun-baked and satisfied tour guests were snoring in the cabin by 10:00 pm. 

Stede made sure everyone was settled in before closing the door and rejoining Ed, who was picking up dirty plates by the fire. 

“Sleeping like angels,” Stede said with such affection Ed couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. 
 
They gathered up the dishes and cutlery, cleaned everything at the wash station, and packed it all away. 

The entire time, Stede filled the space between them with chatter about how he'd negotiated the fishermen out of their catch (“I really took them for a ride!”); about Jim’s remarkable abilities with a knife; about the ridiculous lengths to which Pete and Lucius went to capture a mere 30 seconds of sunset.

Ed was out of the dark; the dinner and campfire had almost been fun. But he was also exhausted, so he answered mostly in monosyllables, throwing in the odd “mate” for good measure. 

He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop with Stede, for an apology to be demanded for his outburst earlier, for friendship to be withheld until an expression of regret was delivered. 

But that moment never came.

Instead, Stede had been very much himself, if a little more reserved than usual, all evening. Even-keeled, a bit goofy and gentle, especially with Ed. 

Like nothing had happened. 

But he was also being careful, keeping things light and staying busy, never slowing down, like he was keen to be useful. 

Ed could feel that shift in Stede and he hated it, hated that Stede felt like he needed to manage himself around Ed, hated that he’d revealed too much and broken the thread between them so soon after realizing– well. It hardly mattered now. 

“I was thinking,” Stede said as they finished up, “I brought my fireside espresso maker, so we can brew some coffee for everyone in the morning, though it might take awhile.”

“Between that and the muffins," he continued, "it should keep everyone until we take the kayaks back. Then I thought we’d have a big, early lunch in town. Know any good spots in Motueka – or are you only a gourmand when you’re in Wellington?”

Stede was teasing, but Ed didn't respond. 

Stede peered at him in the dark, the only light now being from the porch at the bunkhouse a ways back, and the moon above. Ed's back was to him, but something didn't feel right. 

“Ed?” 

“I’m sorry,” Ed blurted, whirling around. His expression was neutral, but his hands were balled into fists. 

Get it out of the way. 

“For being a dick today.”

Stede raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I don’t think you weren’t being a dick,” he replied. “You were right about the kayaks, I – I know I should be more experienced than I am. And… I appreciate you helping me as much as you have. Let's just… chalk everything else up to a less-than-stellar day?"

“A fucking shitty day,” Ed agreed, relieved. 

He held his hand out, gesturing for the bag. Stede handed it to him. Ed went to take it, but Stede didn’t let go right away.

“You’re not a dick,” he said pointedly. Then– “You’re lovely.”

Ed didn’t meet his eyes. “Thank you,” he said softly. 

Stede released the bag and Ed turned away, crouched down low in the sand, and started picking up empty beer cans. 

Stede didn't seem too fazed, but Ed knew better. Now that the thread had been broken, now that Stede had seen how Ed could be, whatever sparkle that might’ve been between them would wear off pretty soon. Izzy had even said as much; Ed wasn’t shiny or bright.

He was vaguely aware of Stede still standing nearby, not moving. He wished he’d just go, just beg off and not hold on too tight. 

But he knew Stede, ever the gentleman, would try to act like things were fine for a while, try to be polite, for the sake of the job. Then, he'd eventually distance himself, disillusioned, until it all slipped away, like it never happened.

“You can go to bed, mate,” Ed said over his shoulder. “I’ll finish up here.”

“Ed?” Stede said. Ed swivelled around, still crouching, and looked up at Stede. He looked antsy; his arms were crossed, his eyebrows knitted. 

“What?” Ed said, self-conscious. He propped himself up on one knee. 

“I-” Stede rubbed his elbows with his thumbs, hesitating. “I don't want to overstep…but-”

It seemed like Stede wanted something but was afraid to get snapped at again. Ed braced himself.

“Stede, you can say it.” 

“I, well–” Stede took a step forward, his voice achingly tender, “are you doing OK? You just seem… awfully sad.” 

Stede sounded pretty sad himself. He reached out awkwardly and his fingertips found Ed’s shoulder. 

“You’ve seemed so sad all day. You – well I hope you know – you can talk to me.”

Well. That did it. 

Ed’s throat clenched shut. Everything from the past 58 hours that he hadn’t held any space for, from Tongariro to Wellington to Izzy to the food pack to standing on that lookout to Stede's beautiful, hopeful smile and his fucking words of affirmation caught up with Ed and crushed something inside of him. 

Ed dropped the bag, sat down in the sand, hung his head, and burst into tears for the third or fourth time that day. He felt Stede’s hand withdraw.

“Fuck, sorry,” Ed managed, covering his face with his hands, wishing he could curl up somewhere and never be found. “I’m fine.”

Stede stood stock still beside him. Ed, past trying to reel any of this in, was ready for Stede to give an excuse and escape. 

But then Stede sat down in the sand beside him.

He was so close his shoulder touched Ed’s, and so softly, his hand came to rest on Ed’s back. 

Then Stede did what Ed had done for him, that first night they’d met in Rotorua, alternating between pats and little circles between his shoulders while they shuddered up and down. 

“Just breathe,” he whispered. 

They stayed that way, wrapped in night air and insect sounds and ocean waves, Ed leaning into Stede, until Ed spoke first, his voice congested, staring down at the sand and their almost-touching feet.

“Wow. This is embarrassing.” 

Stede sighed. 

"Oh, I dunno," he said. "I think I get it – the Adventure Flask really was the whole package. But we can always get a new one." 

Ed choked on a laugh in between shuddery intakes of breath. 

"Lunatic," he mumbled. 

“You know… it’s OK sometimes,” Stede said, serious now, comforting, still hesitant, “to not be OK? Gosh that’s cheesy – sorry.”

Ed sat back and stared at him then, taking Stede in through a blur of tears. 

Careful. 

Stede looked back at him, earnest, and worried.

Careful. 

Sitting with him, staying.

Careful–

Oh, shut the fuck up. 

Ed lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Stede’s neck. 

It was slipping on that ledge all over again. His nerve endings came alive at this act of boldness, of connection, waves breaking on the rocks into spectacular explosions of white. His brain and heart were alight at the feeling of his cheek against Stede's ear, of Stede's hair tickling his nose. Of the scent and the warmth and the softness of Stede, closer than ever before.

Maybe, Ed thought, his skin tingling with the promise of it, this was all he needed. 

Stede hadn’t told him to buck up or get over it, or fucked off when things got uncomfortable. 

Stede had stayed.

Meanwhile, Stede was wide-eyed. 

The man who had never really been hugged much by anyone apart from his kids needed a moment to regroup from Ed’s act of massive affection.

Ed hesitated, and squeezed. 

Then, in one heart-soaring moment, Stede’s arms slid around Ed, and he squeezed back. 

Ed tried to live inside that squeeze, knowing full well it would likely be the closest he ever got. He’d leveraged his general apathy for life into taking a risk here, and he wasn’t sorry – he wished there could be more.

When Ed finally let go, he thought for a moment he felt Stede hold fast, just a little. 

Just a little. 

Ed mopped up his face with his sleeve and turned toward the water. The tide was low, and it was quiet in the bay, little waves lapping at the shore. 

They sat there, side by side, watching the moonlight dance on the surface of the sea.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Stede finally asked. 

“Not much to say,” Ed replied, sighing. “I let Izzy get to me, that’s all.”

Stede looked at Ed sideways.

“Not for nothing, but that Iggy’s a real prick.”

Ed tilted his head upwards in low-key agreement.

“He’s right about some things, though,” he said. “I’ve been making stupid mistakes. First Tongariro, then the food.”

“Mmm,” Stede said, shifting so his knees were drawn to his chest, “I seem to recall a wise man once telling me: ‘Don’t listen to Izzy, ever. He sits on a bus all day. He’s got no clue.’”

Ed smirked despite himself and pushed his hands into the sand, relishing the coolness, the sensory focus.

“Point taken.”

“Can I ask…” Stede hesitated. “I hope I’m not being too nosy, but: What did he say that upset you so much?”

Ed picked up two handfuls of sand and watched the grains fall slowly back onto the ground. 

“Oh, nothing specifically. But we’ve known each other a long time, been through a lot, and… I dunno man. He knows how to push my buttons. He– he sees me.”

Stede watched Ed playing in the sand.

“Well.” He rested his elbows on his knees, and laid his chin on criss crossed wrists, looking back out over the water. “I wish he could see what I see.”

Ed’s hands fell to his sides. He didn’t dare look at Stede.

“It’s been three days, mate,” he finally said, pushing his hands as deep into the sand as they could go. “You barely know me.”

“Maybe, but it’s like you said in Tongariro. Time moves differently on tour.”

Chapter Text

MAP FROM ABEL TASMAN TO CAPE FOULWIND

###
Morning all, 

I'll keep this brief as you all know we're heading back to Motueka today, but I couldn't let a glorious morning like this pass by without one of my absolute favorite adventure quotes:

“I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, “This is what it is to be happy.”
— Sylvia Plath
###

Ed woke up in his corner of the bunkhouse feeling strangely clear headed. He realized that he'd finally slept. 

He sat up and looked around. Everyone was still asleep, except Stede was gone. 

Pulling on a fleece, Ed stepped out of the bunkhouse and into the cool morning air, still but for the sound of the ocean waves washing up onto the beach. 

He paused and looked inward. He felt… better. Still raw, and sore from a day of sky high cortisol. Still gutted like one of Jim’s fish, and his knee fucking killed from scaling that ridge. But there was a line he’d fallen below yesterday, and he was comfortably above it now.

It’s OK to not be OK.

He wandered over to the fire pit, expecting to find Stede making coffee, but it was empty, out cold. 

Then Ed looked to the water. 

He was silhouetted by the sun as it peeked above the horizon, standing against the morning haze. Standing a few inches from shore, barefoot and bed-headed, Stede was practicing getting in and out of his kayak. 

Ed crossed his arms and watched him, relishing the stupid grin he could feel spreading across his face. 

“You might go faster if you put it in the water first,” Ed chided as he approached. Stede, who was sitting in the kayak, waggling back and forth on the sand with his paddle, whirled around, caught being extra keen. 

“Well– I’m just trying to get the positioning right,” he explained, too focused to get the joke.

“I’d say you’ve got it, as far as on-land kayaking goes,” Ed said, standing over him, amused.

“Does it ever get less, you know, physically agonizing?” Stede asked, wincing as Ed gave him a hand out. “I’m incredibly sore today.”

“Ah, yeah no,” Ed said. “That never goes away. I’ve brought a few Aspirin with me, take one before we leave.”

“What are you doing up so early?” Stede asked, taking it and standing and brushing himself off.

Ed stretched. “I wanted to squeeze in a swim before everyone’s awake. Didn’t get a chance yesterday.”

“OK, well have fun,” Stede said, starting up toward the fire pit. “Call you when coffee’s ready.”

"You uh, want to join?" Ed asked. "It’ll be cold, but the water here is great.”

"Oh, uh…" Stede looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know-”

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess you've never swum in the ocean before," Ed grinned, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, you're wrong, actually. I do it all the time."

"Oh. Really?"

"No!" 

Stede hugged himself, looking at the water like it might attack. "Is it safe this early in the morning? I mean, what about… sharks?"

He whispered that last bit as though any nearby sharks might hear him and get ideas. 

Ed marveled at him. Fucking. Adorable. 

"I've been swimming in the ocean since I was a kid," he told Stede, kicking his boots off into the sand. "I've only ever seen like, twenty, maybe twenty-five sharks, total.”

“That’s too many sharks, Ed!”

Ed peeled off his fleece and handed it to Stede.

“Suit yourself!” 

Off he went then, sprinting toward the water, his mind and body dizzy with the thrill of feeling the ocean on his skin and his lungs filling with air, of salt water for his knee, of Stede, of making this day better than the one before.

Meanwhile, Stede was still standing where Ed had left him, trying to remember what had been happening before Ed had taken his shirt off, and failing to remember to breathe. 

Ed’s fleece was still warm between his fingers. Dazed, he watched Ed, glowing in the warm morning sun, a blur of biceps and silver curls, brown eyes and tattoos, free and at ease among the waves. 

Stede’s skin was prickly, his head was blurry, his heart racing – but as a person who regularly dealt with anxiety, this felt… different. 

"Stede!" Ed called from quite a ways out. Stede realized he’d been hugging the fleece to his chest and dropped his hands to his sides.

“There’s no sharks, mate. Promise!” Ed bobbed just above the surface of the waves.

With care, Stede folded Ed's fleece and set it on a piece of driftwood. 

Then, he straightened up,  cast off his own shirt and, screwing up his face with terrified determination, sped into the water without looking back. 

###

###

By 10am, everyone had roused, fed on muffins and some truly surprisingly good espresso, packed up, and were back on the water. 

Ed took the long route back to town, leading them into a few hidden caves along the shore, stopping to spend an hour with a few blue penguins they came upon in a secluded cove. 

He also let everyone take their time with photos in a particularly brilliant green lagoon, which was graced with the presence of a curious orca – a pretty rare occurrence that even had Ed excited. 

Nobody seemed particularly eager to leave behind the natural wonderland of the park.

By the time they met Buttons in Motueka though, they were all pretty ravenous. 

Fortunately, Stede had called ahead to a funky little spot called the Toad Cafe (a Ed Teach culinary recommendation) and arranged for a rather elevated lunch experience than what they were typically used to enjoying. 

Everyone had just sat down when Stede felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. 

Mary was calling. 

“Hello Mary,” Stede said as he ducked out of the restaurant. “Everything OK?”

There was silence. 

“Mary?” He checked his phone. Full bars. “Can you hear me?”

Silence again. And then – a quiet little voice.

“Dad?” 

“Alma?” Stede froze. “Are you OK? What’s wrong? Where’s mom?”

There was silence again. Stede’s heart rose up in his throat. 

“Alma, where’s mommy?” 

“...She’s in the bathroom,” Alma answered offhandedly in a low voice. “I’m not supposed to use her phone.”

“No you're definitely not.” The fear of an emergency was rapidly fading, but Stede’s heart was still pounding. “What's the matter Al?"

“When are you coming home?” 

“What?” Stede sat down on the steps outside the restaurant. 

“Mom says you’re working but it’s starting to be a really long time. What's the actual day you're back?" 

Stede ran his hand through his hair. 

“Alma,” he said softly. “Listen sweetheart, I’m… I’m almost done. In about a week–”

“What!” She was suddenly angry." That's so long, Dad!"

Stede was used to being chastised by his daughter – she was one of the few people in his life who didn't use passive aggression when he was getting on their nerves. 

This time though, unlike the time when he brought home the wrong biscuits for her tea party, he actually felt guilty. 

“I'm so sorry Al," he said, meaning it and kicking himself internally. 

Between school, dance, basketball, swimming, art class, French and karate, the kids had so much going on all the time – plus, with the hours he usually worked – Stede honestly hadn’t thought they’d notice he was gone. 

Stede was a bloody idiot.

“Listen” he said finally, taking on a falsely cheerful tone, hoping she'd buy into the optimism. 

“I’ll be passing through Queenstown in four sleeps. On–” he counted silently on his fingers – “April 4. That’s just four sleeps! So how about I’ll come by for a visit that day and we can see each other then?”

Another moment of silence. 

"Do you promise?" Alma emphasized the word 'promise' like she didn't believe him. 

"Pinky promise," Stede said, holding up his pinky even though she couldn't see. 

“Tell mom I’ll be home for a visit on April 4, OK? Tell her I said it was ok you used her phone this one time.”

“OK."

"I'm glad you called me. I miss you guys," he said. "And how's Louis?" 

"He's fine. He doesn't miss you." – So Stede had been half right – "I don't think he knows what day it is." 

"Well he's only five, cut him some slack." 

Alma gave him a small "heh" and Stede relaxed a bit. 

“Stede,” Ed popped his head out the front door of the restaurant. “Food’s here.”

Stede nodded at him. Ed disappeared back inside.

“I’ve got to go now,” he said. Then, because he had a sense these feelings  were not coming from the same place as her tea party-related indignation: "Are you feeling any better?" 

Alma sighed. 

“I guess," she answered. "I'm not sure." 

“Well, what does mommy always say about being OK?” Stede prompted gently.

“It’s OK,” Alma answered, “to not be OK.”

“That’s the ticket,” Stede smiled into the phone. “I’ll see you in four sleeps. Tell your mother, OK?”

“Bye Dad."

Alma disconnected the call.

Stede closed his eyes and rested the phone against his forehead. 

Ouch. 

###

IZZY TEXTING ED

Izzy: Dropped everything at the hotel, should be there by the time you're back. Everything good?
Ed: Went fine. Forgot the food though.
Izzy: Shit really?
Ed: You didn't happen to see the pantry pack on the bus?
Izzy: I didn't see anything, no
Ed: Only I remember packing it with stuff in Tongariro. Should have been in the back
Izzy: Just guest stuff. Maybe you left it in the hotel
Ed: No, definitely remember putting it in the hold. Since when do you not double check the bags
Izzy: Must've forgot. It was a long night, don't know if you remember
Ed: I remember.
Izzy: I guess we both forgot shit yesterday
Ed: Yeah. Do me a favor Iz?
Izzy: Sure
Ed: Whatever you did to the food, do that to my number.
Izzy: ?? I didn't touch your fucking food
Ed: Actually, I'll just block you. Wouldn't want you to forget to forget my number the way you forgot to check the bags. Bye Iz.
Izzy: You're being fucking ridiculous. Edward you forgot the food not me. Take some responsibility.

-Izzy calling Ed-

Izzy: Pick up. 

###

ABEL TASMAN TO CAPE FOULWIND TO HOKITIKA

###

The next four days flew by in a flurry of spectacular scenery, sumptuous food, decidedly excellent Sauvignon Blanc and far, far too much fun. 

Stede was determined to make it all count. 

Of course, by this stage of the FAM, the group had grown fond enough of each other that they were all feeling wistful as they approached their final days. 

Time did move differently on tour, and spending every moment of every day together while exploring a new place could always go badly or marvelously. In this case, it had absolutely been the latter. 

Sure, Stede had gotten much better at the logistics and creative solutions side of guiding, but it was the building of relationships on the tour that he really considered a sign of a job well done. 

###

###

STEDE TO GROUP

"Travel far enough, you meet yourself."

- David Mitchell

###

Naturally, it felt like much more than a job to him. Between the camaraderie and the teasing and the divulging of secrets and histories over late night dinners with people he had never even heard of a week ago, Stede had felt something very fresh and new blooming inside of him. A sort of new way of relating to others that he didn't recognize. 

###

###

He felt it when the group chose to eat together – even on free nights – and when they actually asked to play party games on the longer bus rides. 

He felt it when he and Roach competed for a day over who could tell the most puns (Stede lost and was quite shook up about it), and when Olu and Jim, totally unobligated and unprompted, invited him to breakfast with them one morning. 

He felt it when Frenchie interviewed him for his big article, writing him down as their “lead guide,” and when John spent a good amount of time shooting some official portraits of him for the spread, even though he kind of knew that they’d both originally only been interested in profiling Ed. 

It was a feeling of ease and authenticity, of security in the knowledge that the people around him knew just who he was, and wanted to be around him anyway – enjoyed his company, even. 

When they teased him, he was laughing with them. When he spoke, they listened. There was fondness and warmth and pride and giddiness – for them all, but also for himself.

These feelings all tumbled together and hit Stede in such a way that he realized he'd never really known any of them before. Not with his parents, not with Mary, not with anyone he'd ever called friend. 

The realization was at once both thrilling and depleting; where would he be when they were all gone, scattered to the wind and back to their own lives? 

Was he just supposed to go back to the way things were before? Was it even possible? 

And then there was Ed. 

###

### 

Ed, who treated Stede like a real professional, part of the team, someone whose opinion really mattered. Ed, who seemed to think Stede was both clever and funny. 

Ed, who was absolutely a genius and so talented at so many things, but was also (usually) very patient, and came alive when he was sharing what he knew with others. 

Ed, who would eat a stale bagel one minute and lobster wasabi tataki the next. 

Ed, who scratched his beard absent-mindedly when telling a funny story, who could nap anywhere, and always smiled when Stede woke him up. 

Ed, who had tilted his chin so Stede could take an errant crumb out of his beard at Lake Pukaki, who scrunched his nose when he laughed, who smelled of lavender soap. 

Ed, who had big brown eyes always that lit up, immediately giving him away, when he was fucking with someone, and who was always nudging Stede with jokes, always keen to spend their free time together, and always texted him goodnight. 

The thought of the tour ending and Stede having to say goodbye to Ed gave him indigestion, so in classic Stede fashion, he pushed those thoughts to the furthest regions of his mind. 

He'd just deal with those deal with later – likely poorly, and in a panic. But another time.

###

###

The tour itself had gone smoothly the last few days as well. After leaving Abel Tasman, they’d visited the seal colonies of Cape Foulwind, staying until the jokes got completely out of hand, then moved on to Hokitika for a hikoi (walk) of the Arahura River to learn about pounamu, the sacred greenstone – also known as jade – found on the west coast. 

“So, used to be,” Ed told the group as they hiked along the stretch of beach on the river, “anyone could harvest this resource for profit, and believe me – they did. But then in 1997, the law changed, and all the pounamu in Aotearoa was returned to Ngāi Tahu, the traditional kaitiaki, or guardians, of this taonga – which means treasure left for us by our ancestors.”

“Does that mean all pounamu sold here is harvested and carved by Ngāi Tahu?” Frenchie asked, poised over his notebook. 

“Ha,” Ed pointed at Frenchie like he’d told a clever joke. “Like with any kind of precious resource, there’s a black market, there’s issues with importation from other countries, there’s issues with pakeha overstepping into this traditional space because it’s also a lucrative business, especially in tourism. But if you apply yourself and do your research, it’s not hard to find the real deal.”

They spent some time “fossicking,” or treasure-hunting for small pieces of pounamu on the beach, an endeavour that Stede took far too seriously and got weirdly competitive about. When they came up empty-handed, he moped all the way back to the bus.

###

GROUP CHAT

Lucius: I guess the real treasure was our day spent together!
Stede: Lucius, we spend every day together. Treasure is the real treasure!
Lucius: :(

###

MAP FROM HOKITIKA TO FOX GLACIER

###

STEDE TEXTING GROUP CHAT

"May your adventures bring you closer together, even as they take you far away from home"

- Trenton Lee Stewart

###

FOX GLACIER TO WĀNAKA

STEDE TEXTING GROUP

"The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes" - Thomas Alva Edison

###

Chapter Text

MAP - WANAKA TO AORAKI MOUNT COOK

STEDE TO ADVENTURE CREW GROUP CHAT

"Adventure is not outside man, it is within." - George Eliot

When they rolled into the Aoraki Mt. Cook village, the group's collective state of awe at the stark mountain setting was on a different level – like they hadn't just spent the past week surrounded by natural wonders. 

Aoraki, or Mount Cook, was the glorious jewel of an entire crown of mountain ranges, with a meadow of scrub and golden grasses set in the centre, home to the Hermitage Hotel and Chalet Village. 

The road from the village seemed to stretch forever, giving off a very yellow brick road quality. Everyone pressed themselves against the windows of the coach, unable to wait until they stumbled out into the crisp mountain air. 

“OK. Aoraki!” Ed clapped his hands and stood to address the group, in a fabulous mood because he was in one of his top favourite places in the world. 

“Named after an atua, or powerful ancestor, who was turned to stone trying to return home to the heavens by a karakia gone wrong.”

“Aoraki is the ancestral mountain by Kāi Tahu, who are the mana whenua over the land, and who work really hard to keep it beautiful and safe. This entire area we’re driving through right now,” Ed gestured broadly with his hands, “is to be respected as tapu, or sacred.” 

“There’s mana, which roughly translates to power, everywhere in this landscape – not just the peaks. I really encourage all of you to take a quiet moment at one point while we’re here and just try to feel it. It’s also a dark sky reserve, making it one of the best stargazing sites on the planet.” 

“And you’ve climbed this?” Stede breathed, his forehead pressed against the window. 

“Couple times,” Ed confirmed. “There’s a cool group called Aoraki Bound, and they do a 20-day cultural trip that helps Māori connect with their tupuna and the land. I did that a few years ago and it got me hooked.” 

"Wow 20-days on a mountain?" Stede whistled. "Puts our little weeklong trip to shame, doesn't it?" 

"Shit like that is on a whole different level," Ed agreed. "Run by Māori for Māori, none of the contrived touristy stuff, just exploring the land with whānau, sharing knowledge and history and building pride around te ao."

“Christ, that’s gorgeous,” John said, frozen mid-lens change. 

“You know, I thought it’d be taller,” Lucius said. 

“Well, Aoraki is the highest peak in Aotearoa, so.” Ed told him, craning his own neck for a look out the window. “Pretty tall.”

“I thought it was called Mt. Cook?” Swede piped up, face against the glass. “After James Cook, the explorer?”

“Well that’s right Swede, some other European dude in the 1800s named it after Cook, in honour of him or some shit.”

“He didn’t even name it after himself?” Roach asked, turning to frown at Ed. 

Ed laughed “Back then, guys loved naming all the land they stole after each other. They did it all the time, all over the world, like some big, weird, colonizer circle jerk.” 

“Cabrón Cook never even saw the mountain,” Jim added. Jim and Olu had heard this one before. 

“Is that true?” Frenchie asked, jotting something down in his notebook. “Why name it after Cook then?”

“I dunno, because he was like… the Walt Disney of colonizers?” Ed shrugged. 

Everyone stopped looking at the mountain and looked quizzically at Ed. He held his hands up like it was obvious.

“You know, has a massive legacy,” he explained. “Like Walt Disney, everybody considered him some kind of trailblazer, and like Walt Disney, despite all the good PR, he has a very shady history when it comes to the representation of Indigenous people.”

“Didn’t he also have like, TB and syphilis?” Olu said, winking at Jim. They’d also heard the Walt Disney metaphor before and knew it always transitioned into TB. 

“Absolutely,” Ed pointed at Olu. “And he spread that shit all over the South Pacific. Then he got cocky in Hawaii and got what was coming to him– but not before he caught a parasite, went psychotic on his crew and forced them to eat walrus meat.”

“Eugh!” the bus collectively exclaimed. Ed grinned and sat back, quite satisfied. With the right group of people, decolonizing history wasn’t always the worst. 

“Ooh, speaking of eating, before I forget,” Ed added delighted at the segue opportunity. “We’re meeting at the main lodge for dinner tonight at seven.” 

The bus pulled into the parking lot and everyone climbed off the bus to collect their luggage from Buttons. 

“We’re booked into the village chalets,” Stede told them as they got sorted. “And not to revisit the drama of the first night, but we paired everyone up to share – don’t worry, don’t worry,” he held his hands up as people groaned. “Everyone who isn’t a couple has got their own bedroom.”

Stede handed out keys to Lucius and Pete, Jim and Oluwande, Roach and Swede, and Frenchie and John. 

“Mr. Buttons, you’re with Ed and I,” Stede advised, handing him a key. 

“Remember we have a 6AM start time for the sunrise hike in Hooker Valley Track,” Ed reminded everyone as they started heading toward the chalets.  

“Ugh, Cape Foulwind, Hooker Valley – who named these places?” Lucius griped as he and Pete passed by. 

“What– are you serious? I was just telling you: The colonizers! The circle jerk!” Ed exclaimed, bewildered, at their retreating backs. “Lucius!” 

“I… don’t think he can hear you,” Stede said as they rounded a corner and out of sight. 

“That or he’s just NOT LISTENING,” Ed called the last two words meant for Lucius. 

“C’mon,” Stede patted him on the back. “Let’s get you a cup of that sugary sludge you call tea.”

Mt Cook was not a cheap place to stay, but the PR team at Bonnet Adventures had insisted on lodging Frenchie and John in the village so they’d write about it later, and that meant everyone got to stay there.

It also meant that after all the two-bedroom chalets were let, the guides and driver had to share whatever was left. In that case, it was a one-bedroom plus pull-out space for the night. 

“I’ll be needin’ tae bedroom,” Buttons informed them as they dropped their bags inside the door. “Seein’ as I sleep in tae nude.” 

Ed and Stede exchanged uncomfortable glances. 

They watched, silent, as Buttons carefully rolled his suitcase into the bedroom. 

“He’s, uh, he’s got birds in that suitcase isn’t he?” Stede said, still staring at the now closed door. 

“For. Sure.” Ed said, crossing his arms scrutinizingly. 

Letting that realization settle, they then turned their attention to the cramped living room, which came with a two-seater pull-out sofa and a rickety cot. 

“Welp…” Stede sighed, nudging the cot reluctantly with his foot. 

“Couch is mine!” They shouted, both scrambling to claim it first. 

As they were nearing the end of the tour, Frenchie wanted to spend more time with Ed and get some background for his article, so he and Ed took a corner of the dining room at dinner while the others ate at a long table by the window.

Ed usually hated doing media interviews and how contrived they always felt, but he quite liked Frenchie, so he was biting the bullet. Even so, he purposely used up the first half of the meal talking to Frenchie about food, since they both shared a mutual love of cool restaurants, and Frenchie lived in New York. 

They didn’t even get to talking about Ed until the sun had set over the mountains in the distance, and the first of the dark sky reserve’s stars had begun to wink from the deepening blue.

“So what made you want to get into guiding?” Frenchie asked as they returned from the buffet with coffee. 

Ed fidgeted, rolling his napkin between his fingers. 

“Can we skip that one? It’s a boring story,” Ed said. 

“Sure thing. How about: What was it like growing up in Aotearoa, before tourism here exploded?”

“Do we have to do the background stuff?” Ed asked. “I don’t really do ancient history.” 

“Says the man who takes every opportunity to tell us about the dicks who stole his land,” Frenchie raised an eyebrow, grinned and scribbled something down in his notebook. 

“Fine, we’ll start with something easier. What do you love most about guiding?”

Ed sighed. “Erm, I guess seeing the world is cool.”

Frenchie didn’t write that down. 

“Can you tell me about the proudest moment of your career?”

Ed leveled a look at Frenchie. “Really?”

“Come on man,” Frenchie laughed. “I need something personal from you. Otherwise it won’t be much of a profile. How about: What’s it like, being an international adventure guide?”

Ed drew in a breath, thinking. “Ok, well, I haven’t actually lived in one place longer than three months for about the last – wow, ten years. I tend to book tours back to back as much as possible so all my expenses are covered by the companies, which is basically my retirement plan but I’ve got it all in index funds so it’s working out pretty well –”

“My god, how did you just manage to make your job sound boring?” Frenchie leaned back in his chair, unbelieving. 

Ed pretended to be offended. “OK, uh, rude. I take my personal finance really seriously–”

“SO, haven’t had a home in ten years?” Frenchie clicked the end of his pen a bunch of times to indicate his impatience. “Even during Covid?”

“Yeah, even then,” Ed nodded. “The travel industry didn’t slow down as much as people think. Especially for the rich. I was an onsite guide at a few high-end hotels in the US.”

“What about vacations?”

Ed became very interested in plopping sugar cubes into his coffee. “Never had much use for vacation,” he said. 

“I guess when your whole life is creating other people’s vacations, the concept loses some of its lustre?” Frenchie offered, scribbling something down. 

“Sure, you could say that,” Ed replied. “What about you? You live right in Manhattan, or-?”

“Oh my god, you’re allergic to being interviewed,” Frenchie shook his head, eyes wide. “I give up.” He tossed his pen down onto the table. “I rent a walk-up in Brooklyn, but that lease is coming due in a few months.”

“And then what?” Ed popped a sugar cube in his mouth. 

“Well actually,” Frenchie shifted a little in his seat. “I think I’ll be moving into John’s place. With John. We were thinking of looking for a new spot but he has a loft in Tribeca so that was kind of a no-brainer.”

“Oh,” Ed said, surprised. “I thought you only just met.”

“Yeah, we did, and now we’re rooming together.”

“So… you and John… are-?” Ed nodded slowly, not wanting to make assumptions. 

“Room… people,” Frenchie nodded slowly along with him. 

“Right,” Ed stopped nodding. “And ‘room people’ are…?”

“Room people, man,” Frenchie shrugged. “We’re still figuring it out, neither of us are crazy about labels.”

“Wow, but moving in… isn't that a bit fast?” Ed said, not judging, more observing. 

“A bit fast for what?” Frenchie asked amused. 

“I just mean, it’s been less than a week. What if, say, you give up your place, move in and then realize you actually hate each other?” Ed gently prodded at the tongs on his fork with his index finger. “Don’t you worry… that you’re just getting caught up on the tour and it’ll all fall apart when you both go back to real life?”

Frenchie raised his eyebrows at this, then leaned forward like he had a secret. “I think you’re asking the wrong questions, man. Why would I worry about something that might happen while I’m going after something I want? Why would I follow some so-called rules or timelines designed by society to make us doubt ourselves, stay lonely and buy things?”

Ed blinked. “That…. actually makes a lot of sense. So… no happily-ever-after fantasies for you then?”

“The way I see it, a relationship doesn’t have to be a fairytale by anyone’s standards but your own.” 

“Holy shit,” Ed said. 

Frenchie grinned.

“Well, listen, good for you, mate,” Ed said. “You seem really sure about this.”

Frenchie nodded. “Yeah, ‘course.”

“OK, but…” Ed hesitated, then– “how do you know?”

“Oh. Well I don’t know,” Frenchie laughed, looking at Ed like he’d asked a stupid question. “Nobody knows anything! We could all be wiped out by one of your country’s killer volcanoes tomorrow.” 

He paused to take a big slurp of coffee.

“But just because I can’t see the future doesn’t mean I can’t be in charge of my choices. And it's an easy one with John. Especially since he–"

Frenchie paused, then took another sip of his coffee then, smiling into the mug.

“Since he what?” Ed said, a little too urgently. 

Frenchie lowered the mug away from his face, but the smile remained. He gave a little half shrug, like the answer was obvious. 

“Already feels like home.”

Across the room, the main table was finishing up their meal, tossing napkins aside and grabbing jackets. Ed nodded at them and he and Frenchie got up to join them.

“Alright, so, our place?” Frenchie said to John, who was standing with Pete and Roach. “We got drinks, mints, everything.”

“You guys go ahead,” Pete said. He checked his watch. “I’m going to wait here a bit, for when Lucius gets back.”

“Where’s Stede?” Ed asked, only just realizing he wasn’t with the group.

“Oh, they both went out to get some star footage,” Pete explained. “Lucius brought this fancy camera thing that catches really fast time lapses of the night sky. Stede got all gadget-eyed and wanted to tag along.”

Ed didn’t need to look out the window to know how dark it already was outside, but he did it anyway. They'd gone out into the scrub, without (let's face it) a guide, at night. 

Oh, Stede.

“When was this, Pete?” 

“Uh, right before we sat down for dinner, so,” Pete looked at his watch, “maybe an hour ago?”

Oh Stede, no…

"And nobody here thought this was maybe not such a hot idea?" he glared at Jim and Olu, whom he would have expected to know better. Jim glared back as Olu held up his hands in defense. 

"We didn't even notice they'd left," he said. 

“I told them not to do it,” Roach piped up, raising his hand. 

"I honestly figured the area seemed pretty well developed, with the hotel and the chalets and everything!" Pete said defensively. "I thought they'd just… cross the road into the field or something.”

“Have you been in touch with them since?” Ed asked, glancing at his watch. 

“Er,” Pete’s face fell as he finally realized exactly what he had willingly waved Lucius off to do, and with whom. “They… kind of haven’t been answering their phones.”

Why, Stede?!

###

ED TEXTING STEDE

Ed: Hey, where did you guys go?

-Ed calling Stede-

Ed: Stede if you get this please call me.

###

“We’re not lost,” Stede said with absolute certainty. 

“Are you sure, because it really feels like we’re lost, considering that we don’t know where we are” Lucius said, hugging himself tightly and wishing he’d worn something warmer to dinner.

Stede shook his head and continued scanning the ground in front of him with his phone torch.

Sure, they had walked quite a ways from the hotel to get away from the village lights, for maximum starry night effect. 

Yes, they had stepped off the trail a bit in order to get a perfectly symmetrical shot of the mountain under the moon. 

True, they weren’t looking where they were going and after getting the shot – which looked amazing, by the way – couldn’t remember which direction the trail was. 

And correct: Stede, confident in his role as guide, told Lucius to simply follow him and he’d get them correct but now they had been walking for an hour without any sign of the hotel or a trail.

But they weren’t lost. 

They were surrounded by mountains, Stede reasoned, so as long as they didn’t start climbing one of those, how far–

###

“--could they go, really?” Pete asked in a higher voice than normal. 

Ed was absorbed in a trail map of the park on his phone. 

“Well, Hooker Valley is about six miles long, if they went that way,” Ed replied. “But they could have taken the Kea Point Track, which then turns onto the Sealy Tarns Track, which leads to the Mueller Hut Route. Or, they could have done the governor's bush walk.”

“OK, so they took one of five tracks,” Pete concluded. “So we what, split up into pairs and try at least four of them?”

Ed looked at him squarely. 

“Look Pete, it’s so dark now that it’s likely they may not even be on a trail anymore.”

“So what do we do?”

Ed sighed. “We keep texting them and hope one of them answers and drops a pin.”

“Do we call the SAR?”

Ed pretended to calmly consider this option. He could feel Pete starting to panic. 

“It’s only eight-thirty, it’s not super late yet, and they’ve only been gone an hour. Let’s give it a bit, hope they get service and tell us where they’re at.”

Pete put both hands on the table and looked Ed in the eye. 

“Ed, I’m pretty sure Lucius loves his phone at least as much as me. If he’s not answering, it’s because–”

###

“--I’ve got no bars out here,” Lucius dismayed. “How is that even possible, I can literally count the satellites orbiting above us.”

“Mine’s not picking up either,” Stede said. “Well, let’s keep walking and hopefully we’ll find a signal.”

“Stede, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to stay in one place when you’re lost.”

Stede glared at Lucius. “Well in that case I hope you’re prepared to spend the night here.”

Lucius let out a frustrated whine. 

“I thought not. So let’s keep moving. At least that way we’ll stay warm.”

“I don’t understand, you’re like a walking, talking leatherman,” Lucius griped. “How do you not have a compass?”

Stede had been asking himself the same thing. 

“I traded away all my compasses to put food in your belly,” he pointed out testily.

“Ugh, don’t say the word food,” Lucius groaned. “Why didn’t we eat before we came out here?”

“Look, we’re still in a pretty open space,” Stede reasoned, looking around. “If the village is in the centre of the mountain range, and we manage to keep the closer mountains behind us and walk forward, we should, eventually, theoretically, reach the village. I just hope we’re not–”

###

“--too far off,” Ed said to the group. “I’ll spend an hour out there and then we’ll see.”

It was 9:30PM. Stede and Lucius had been gone without a word for about two hours now.

Everyone else had gone back to Ed and Stede’s room, and Ed had pulled on a few more layers and helped himself to Stede’s stash of gadgets. Now equipped with a headlamp, compass and his own satellite messenger, Ed was preparing to head out and look around the area, a last-ditch effort before they brought in SAR. He stuffed water, power bars and a couple thermal blanket packets into his backpack. 

“If they exited out the front of the hotel, there’s a good chance they took the Kea Point Track just to the left,” Jim said, looking at the map on their phone. “From there is anyone’s guess, but there’s a chance they really didn’t get far and are just going around in circles somewhere.”

“Yes, exactly," Ed agreed. "We’ll go around the hotel in broadening circles and call their names a few times, just to see – No, nuh uh,” he said, pointing at Jim as they made to follow him, leatherman and flashlight at the ready. 

“Cabrón, I know this area as well as you do,” Jim snapped. 

“Yeah, but if I get lost looking for people, I’m just doing my job,” Ed explained. “If you get lost looking for people, I’m doing… bad… at my job.”

“But I won’t get lost, because I’m not a freakin’ idiot, si?” Jim argued. “Yo lo puedo hacer. I can do it.”

“If Jim’s going, I’m going,” Pete announced. Ed whirled around. They did not have time for this.

“Absolutely not, no. Guys,” he addressed the room. “This is not part of the tour. Comprende?” he glared at Jim. “So all of you… go, hang tight in John and Frenchie’s room. I will update you.”

“You probably shouldn’t go alone, though,” Oluwande reasoned. “Seeing as: it’s dark; it’s cold; you might need to perform first aid; general buddy system safety logic–”

Jim raised their eyes at Ed and pointed at Olu, who was counting reasons on his fingers, to punctuate their complete agreement. Ed waved at Olu to stop.

“Fine, Jim, you’re with me.” He turned to Olu. “I’ll update you via the satellite, but if you don’t hear from us one way or another in an hour, don’t hesitate. Call – ”

###

“-- the SAR. Again!” Lucius moaned. “I mean it’s fun when the handsome ones grab you and lift you into the helicopter like you weigh basically nothing but it’s also embarrassing, you know?”

Stede wasn't really listening, because Stede was starting to think that maybe, there could be a small chance, however slim, that they were lost.

He had a sneaking feeling that they'd been going in circles, because even with only his phone torch for light, he was 99% sure he'd seen the rock formation in front of him before. 

A sneaking feeling was starting to seep out of the part of his brain Stede usually stored unpleasant truths in, and this was starting to make things feel real. Well, that and the encroaching, bitter chill of night. 

"Have we seen that rock before?" Stede asked, regretting it as soon as he said it. 

“Oh my god OK, Stede, no more,” Lucius announced, dropping his bag of camera equipment at his feet and crossing his arms. “We’ve been wandering in the dark for over almost two hours, we still have no idea where we are. We’re obviously very lost, even if you don’t want to admit it, and I’m not an ‘adventure expert’ like you but even I know that if you’re lost, you’re supposed to wait for someone to find you. So do what you want – I’m staying put.”

Lucius collapsed onto a nearby boulder, refusing to look at Stede. Stede stared at him, at first offended, wanting to argue, but then, his phone went black. 

He couldn't see much; it was very dark, and while the sky was alive with stars, they didn’t magic away how embarrassed and, well, a little freaked out he was. 

“Fuuuuuuuuck," Stede whispered, desperately tapping the screen like it would restore a dead battery, and looked around.

"Lucius, give us your phone," Stede ordered. "We need it for the light." 

Lucius hugged his phone to his chest like a precious baby. 

"As if! We should preserve the battery in case we absolutely need it, which we don't if we're going to be staying in one place, which we should, because we're FUCKING LOST!" 

Stede, his hand still out, seemed to deflate.

"Fuck," he said, as though coming to a profound realization. "Fuck!" 

Lucius, his head resting on his arms, didn’t respond. 

All the hunger, the cold, the doubts, suddenly came in real strong – and Stede started to pace.

“You're right. We're lost. I got us lost! I’m not a guide – I’m an idiot!”

Tourist.

If he was waiting for a contradiction from Lucius, it didn’t come. 

"We're going to freeze to death and die," Stede said, sprinting to the other end of the crisis leadership spectrum. 

"I wanted to get the perfect shot, I took us off trail, and I knew it was a bad idea but I did it anyway – without thinking about how others might be impacted by my terrible, terrible choices!" 

Tourist.

Lucius lifted his head as Stede continued to spin out, unable to ignore this sudden change in energy. 

"And now we're going to get hypothermia and they'll find our bodies in this sacred mountain landscape and it'll be my fault my children are orphans and Mary's going to hate me even more than she already does and I'll just be known as that guy who thought he could do a thing but he couldn't do the thing Lucius, he couldn't do the thing!"

"Woah, OK," Lucius held up his hands. "Let's just take a breath, and not do the only thing worse than moving around when you're lost, which is panic." 

Lucius scooted over on his boulder and patted, eyebrows raised pointedly at Stede the space beside him. Stede trudged over, sank down onto the boulder and put his head in his hands. 

“God, I’m so sorry Lucius. It’s my fault we’re here.”

Lucius hesitated but then gave Stede a reluctant pat on his knee. 

“I mean, you’re right, but technically we both came out here. And I mean, I listened to you, so. That’s on me,” Lucius reasoned, attempting generosity. 

"No, no, I did this," Stede groaned into his hands. "It's not a game but I treat it like a game because I'm, well me. And now I've dragged you into it.” 

Lucius fidgeted, uncomfortable at Stede’s negative self-talk when he was usually so annoyingly and ignorantly confident. 

They sat in silence for a while, huddled against the deepening chill of night. 

“Can I ask your advice about something, Lucius?” Stede finally mumbled, head still in his hands. 

Lucius drew in a long, inconvenienced breath. 

“Well… I don’t really do vulnerability,” he said, casting a look at Stede’s pathetic form. “But, I love telling people what to do, so go ahead.”

Stede lifted his head out of his hands. 

“How do you know if you’re making the right decisions in life?”

Lucius thought about this. 

“Wow, that’s a big question. But, as a proud and courageous gay entrepreneur whose job is literally to fly around the world with my husband, stay in fabulous hotels and take pictures if myself, I’d say I’m uniquely qualified to answer a question about making good life choices.”

“That said,” he made an exaggeratedly apologetic face at Stede, “the truth is… you can’t ever really know.”

Stede groaned but Lucius was serious.

“I mean, nobody can, can they? I think you just… have to do what you feel is best for you, and hurt as few people as you can along the way,” Lucius said. 

Stede sighed. 

“So, are we… talking about any big decisions in particular?” Lucius fished. 

“What? No, this is just general philosophizing,” Stede said unconvincingly.

Lucius rolled his eyes and drummed his fingers on his knees. “Sure, talking about hypothetical situations and completely made up people. Gotcha.”

They sat in silence a while longer. 

“I just wonder if I haven’t been making the wrong choices for the wrong reasons for a… really, really long time,” Stede continued the conversation, staring off into the distance, at something Lucius couldn’t see. 

“I mean, we’re unhappy. She even said so. Maybe the reason I did this was because I didn’t want to face it. I've been told I avoid unpleasant things,” he admitted. “But is sticking this out, ignoring the truth – is that hurting my kids? Would ending things be worse?”

Lucius cocked his head to the side. “Wow. What happened to ‘we’re just philosophizing?’”

“Well. You’re very easy to talk to,” Stede sniffed defensively.

“Funny because I have literally never heard that before,” Lucius said. He patted Stede’s knee again. “OK, so, what does… she… think about all this?”

Stede shrugged hopelessly. “She was angry, but then she said she thought taking space might be a good idea?”

“Ah, the words of a person who is obviously deeply committed to their relationship,” Lucius nodded affirmingly. “I honestly keep forgetting you’re like, very married.”

“About ten years now,” Stede replied. “And that’s the thing: It’s been like this for so long, I suppose we just–”

“Got used to it,” Lucius offered. “Sounds very… heteronormative and complicated.”

“Yes, and things are getting more and more complicated every day,” Stede added, more to himself than anything, but Lucius leaned in, suddenly hungry. 

“How’s that now?”

Stede tucked his hands into the sleeves of his shirt.

“Oh, you know.”

Lucius gave him an “I absolutely do not know” look. 

“Well, I suppose I’ve just really fallen in love–”

Lucius’ eyes nearly overtook his own face. 

“--with guiding,” Stede said, looking meaningfully at Lucius. “And, I’m not really sure where my old life fits in. With, you know, guiding.”

“I… see,” Lucius squinted at him, suspicious. “So what are you going to do?”

“I’ve no idea,” Stede snapped. “That’s why I’ve been asking you for advice. You’ve hardly been any help at all, by the way.”

“Well sorry, but I’m a ‘live life loud and proud’ kind of guy, and you’re not even ready to admit that you’re – a guide – quite yet. So I’m not sure we’re on the same page,” Lucius snapped back.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Stede moaned. “Seeing as I’m going to get hypothermia and die tonight.” He shivered and drew his knees to his chest. The wind was picking up. 

Lucius rolled his eyes. 

“Listen Stede. “We’re not going to freeze or die, we’re going to be found, and I promise you’re going to get an opportunity to face allll of these lovely, life-changing challenges head on,” Lucius assured him. 

“Ugh, can’t I just freeze to death instead?” Stede put his head back in his hands, shivering.

With that, Lucius cuddled up close to Stede, hooking their arms so they could shiver and look up at the stars together. 

###

Once away from the activity of gearing up and the chatter of the group, Ed’s mind was starting to flood with all the things that might’ve happened to Stede (and of course, to a lesser extent, Lucius). 

He could have fallen into a ditch and broken something. He could have hypothermia, he could be miles away, dehydrated and hallucinating and out of Ed’s reach. 

“They’re fine,” Jim said, as though they could hear Ed’s thoughts. 

“I know,” he said, too quickly. 

“They’re both morons, but they’re fine.”

“Right, yeah, morons,” Ed agreed. 

Please be OK.

They’d decided to start about fifty feet away from the hotel and move in a circle around it, moving outward roughly fifty feet at a time with every completion of the circle. 

“Stede!” Ed called. “Stede?”

“And Lucius,” Jim reminded him. 

“Lucius!” 

They did this for nearly an hour, moving as quickly as they could in the dark, Ed’s heart in his throat and his stomach tightening horribly as they went. 

By 10:30PM, he was ready to call SAR. At this point, he was sick with the certainty that Stede really was hurt and he was kicking himself for not just calling them outright – as well as for a whole list of other things he hadn’t done yet and probably should have. 

“Para,” Jim suddenly grabbed Ed’s arm and pointed ahead of them. Partially obscured by a hillside a ways off, was a figure, silhouetted black against the sparkling astral skyscape.

“Stede!” Ed called. 

##

“Did you hear that?” Lucius suddenly sat up. 

“What?” 

“I thought I heard your name,” Lucius said, climbing stiffly to his feet. 

Stede followed suit. 

“Where’d it come from? HELLO–?”

###

“--HELLO?” Ed called out to the head. He and Jim carefully made their way toward the figure. He had to fight not to run toward it, but the last thing anyone needed right now was for him to trip or fall on a rock in the dark. 

“Hey!” Jim boomed. “Lucius!”

The figure turned as they reached the top of the knoll. 

“Que carajo?” Jim skidded to a stop and held their arm out to stop Ed as well. 

“Holy shit.”

###

“I know I heard my name that time,” Lucius said, bending down to grab his pack. 

“Wait for me!” Stede stumbled after him. 

Less cautiously than Ed and Jim had, Lucius and Stede jogged in the black of night toward where Lucius heard the voices.

“Hello? HELP US!” Lucius screamed as he jogged.

“We’re a guide and an influencer with Bonnet Adventures,” Stede announced, as though the information was important. “Varying degrees of experience–”

“Stede!” 

Stede stopped. 

“Ed?” He called into the night. 

Lucius smacked him in the chest with his hand. “Look,” he pointed.

Floating at the top of what looked like a low knoll were two beams of light – headlamps! 

“We’re here!” Stede and Lucius started shouting, waving and making their way toward the lights. “Over here!”

“Stay where you are!” Ed’s voice commanded. 

“We’re coming!” Stede called back. 

“No! Don't come closer–”

“That’s Jim! It’s Jim, Jim and Ed,” Stede told Lucius, tapping him on the back. Lucius glared at him over his shoulder, still jogging.

“I know that, I–!” Lucius yelped as he came into contact with something in the dark. 

“Oy, watch where yer goin!” a voice barked. 

There, stark naked and standing beneath a glittering canopy of millions upon millions of stars, was Buttons, accompanied by not one, but three, wild keas. 

“Buttons? What are you– what the fuck?!” Lucius recoiled as his eyes adjusted. “Why are you naked?”
 
“Can’t a man bathe his nethers in tae purity of an unspoilt night sky in peace!?” Buttons demanded, deeply put out by this intrusion. The keas whinnied* in agreement.

Before Lucius could answer, Ed and Jim’s headlamps cast Buttons in a ghastly backlight, simultaneously blinding Lucius and Stede, who shielded their eyes. 

The next thing Stede knew, Ed was crushing him in his arms. 

“Jesus, Stede, are you OK? Are you hurt?” Ed was asking into Stede’s hair, his cool wilderness survival demeanor gone, forgotten.

“I’m fine–” Stede said, laughing with surprise and relief. “Ed–”

Ed held Stede by the shoulders at arm’s length and scrutinized him. Stede, squinting in the harsh light of the headlamp, reached up and flicked it off. Even in the dark, he could see Ed’s eyes flashing at him. 

“What were you thinking, you nut?” he demanded. “You could have died, you could have broken your legs, you could’ve–”

“Ed– Ed,” Stede said calmingly, as though he hadn't been losing his mind half an hour ago. He reached up and placed his hands on Ed’s forearms, making eye contact. “I’m OK.” 

Ed gazed back at him, a thousand emotions flickering across his face. Stede caught every single one. He just had no idea what to do with them. 

Jim handed Lucius a water and a thermal blanket, then messaged Olu on the satellite to say they’d found the “pendejos.”

“Uh, can we go?” Lucius called over to where Ed was fussing over Stede, lending him his outer layer and adjusting a toque over Stede's ears. “I was actually alright when we were lost but now I’m kind of freaking out.” 

He tilted toward where Buttons was still spread eagled with his keas, basking in moonglow. 

Everyone tilted their heads in confusion, unwillingly absorbed. 

“I mean,” Lucius whispered to Jim. “Isn’t he cold?”

Jim invited Buttons to return with them, and upon being impatiently waved away, turned and started leading the rest back. Ed flicked his headlamp back on, casting one more worried glance at Stede. 

Stede caught it and gave him a contrite “sorry I got lost and scared you” shrug. 

With a bewildered shake of his head, Ed muttered “mad man,” before wrapping an arm around Stede’s shoulders, and not letting go the whole way home. 

MAP: AORAKI TO QUEENSTOWN

###

When Stede opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Ed. 

Laying barely a foot away, his face was relaxed in sleep, hair mussed against his pillow. Unguarded, unburdened. 

Still fuzzy-brained in half-sleep, Stede watched as Ed’s hands, resting on his chest, rose and fell with every one of his deep, easy breaths. 

He felt a profound sense of – was it sadness? No. It was the same feeling he had when he saw a breathtaking mountainscape, or that internet video where a lion and labrador became unlikely friends.

It was emotional, appreciative, potent. It swelled up from his sternum and tugged at the back of his throat. If left unchecked, it would bring forth a whimper. But Stede gently pushed all that back down again. 

Then he remembered. 

After they got back to the chalet, they'd decided to wait up for Buttons – partly to make sure he arrived home ok, and partly because they were both terrified to wake up with him standing over them, covered in keas. 

While they waited, they'd kicked back on the pullout sofa with TV and hot tea for Stede's frozen core, both absolutely wrung out from the evening's events. 

Sometime after Stede finished his tea and Ed turned off the TV, leaving only the bedroom light on and its door ajar for Buttons, they’d both settled down on their sides, comfy and bone tired, and murmured to each other in the semi-dark.

Stede talked about being lost in the valley with Lucius. 

Ed had told him about the time leading up to the search, arguing with Jim, and how glad he was that they had come along in the end. 

At some point in the conversation, Ed had admitted that he'd been really scared for Stede.

"I just hated not knowing if you were OK." 

Stede remembered feeling worse than ever, to have gotten lost and make Ed worry. 

He could recall his hand inching across the divide between them, finding Ed's and saying he was sorry to have scared him. 

Then, strangely, everything after that seemed to sort of blur together: 

Ed, gently tugging his hand away. 

Stede, feeling a pang of worry that he'd perhaps done the wrong thing. 

Ed reaching for him then, his expression unreadable. 

Ed's fingers brushing the hair back from Stede's forehead. 

Stede holding his breath. 

How quiet it was. 

Ed's fingertips tracing a whisper of a line from Stede's forehead to his temple and across his cheekbone. 

Ed's fingers curling into his palm, the back of his hand resting against Stede's face, thumb brushing the corner of his eye. 

Stede leaning into the gentle touch, into the warmth, into Ed's soft brown eyes, only just visible in the low light, with the deepest sigh.

How very quiet it was. 

It might've happened. It felt real. Didn't it? 

What he did know was that when the chalet door had flung open, they had both jumped.

Buttons, still extremely naked but distinctly sans-keas, shuffled into the chalet and through to his bedroom. 

There was a cacophony of chirping, and a “s’no business of yer’s where I’ve been!” before Buttons closed the door to his bedroom, casting them both in darkness. 

Then Ed had snorted, and was suddenly gripping Stede's arm in a different way, the familiar help me I’m dying way Stede was used to, and Stede grasped gratefully for the available levity to ease his racing mind. 

Then they were both muffling their laughter, faces buried in hands and pillows, giddy with nerves and awash with broken tension. 

No longer alone, exhaustion had claimed them both soon after that. 

They must have fallen asleep where they lay, curled up toward each other, little fingers achingly close to touching. 

Now, Stede was awake in that same spot, blinking in the harsh white morning sun and wondering with a bleary mind what he knew and what was true. 

Maybe it had been some exhausted hallucination from the strangeness of being lost in the valley, he reasoned unconvincingly even to himself. 

Or maybe, he entertained for one wildly honest moment, it was just wishful thinking on his part. 

Before he could delve further into this, Stede heard something squawk in Buttons’ room. He would soon not be the only one awake in the chalet. 

Stede quietly slipped off the bed and allowed himself one more pause, one more moment with Ed's resting face. His curls, his rising and falling hands. 

Shaking himself back into the present moment, Stede grabbed up some clothes for the day and retreated to the shower. 

A few moments later, beneath a steady, scalding spray, Stede took his time working up a lather, steaming up the mirrors, and thinking about Ed's fingertips on his forehead. 

Thinking about how Ed smelled of lavender and bergamot. 

How soft his beard probably was, even against sensitive skin. 

About the tattoos Stede knew about. 

About the ones he didn't. 

About Ed's arms wrapped around Stede at Abel Tasman, his body pressed against him on Tongariro, his hands reaching for Stede at the lighthouse, and a thousand other moments that had and hadn't happened yet. 

Stede was chasing a feeling he didn't need to understand, unable to think beyond how good it felt, how badly he wanted it, how easy it was. 

Yet, when Stede came, he still surprised himself, crying out and whiting out and shuddering into some secret place within his mind, retreating there to avoid the oncoming clarity. 

He couldn't account for himself, these feelings. They scared him. Thrilled him. Made him shiver. Made him want to run and hide. Made his blood rush. Made him want to take it all back and return to what he knew. 

Worst of all though, they made him want so much more. 

###
STEDE TEXTING ADVENTURE CREW CHAT

Greetings all! 

To save you all the trouble of asking, I’m fine after my little adventure with Lucius last night, and ready to get back out there this morning!

After breakfast, we’ll be trekking Hooker Valley Track, which leads to the gorgeous, glacier-fed Hooker lake. The entire journey is three hours return, which will give us plenty of time to have lunch at the buffet and then head to my home sweet home, Queenstown! 

We’ll arrive in town in the late afternoon, where you’ll all be free to explore the city for the rest of the day. If you need any recommendations for food or culture, I’ve got loads, so just ask!

See you on the trail at 8,
Stede

“Attitude is the difference between an ordeal and an adventure.”
— Bob Bitchin

###

###

The bus was silent and full of sleepers for pretty much the entire trip from Aoraki to Queenstown. The excitement of the night before, paired with a steady three-hour walk all morning, had wiped everyone out. 

Stede woke up first, as though he could sense that he was back on home turf.

“Ed,” he whispered, reaching over to the seat in front of him and drumming his fingers on Ed’s shoulder. 

Ed opened one eye and smiled. “Hey.”

“We’re here,” Stede told him. 

Ed stretched and looked out the window. 

“Plans for the afternoon? We’re in your house, you want to play tour guide and show me around?” he asked. 

“That sounds lovely,” Stede said, and he meant it. “But, once I get us checked in, I have some errands to run while I’m here.”

“Oh, what errands?” 

Stede hesitated. It was silly, but something he couldn’t quite name what kept him from saying “I’m going to see my wife and kids.”

Ed must have got the hint, because he didn’t press Stede further.

“Well, I’m going to swing by Bonnet HQ, get some paperwork sorted and then probably wander around, maybe grab a burger.”

“Fergburger is the best,” Stede advised, relieved at the change in topic. “And it’s a block away from the head office.”

“Nice. I’ll check it out.” 

###

###

An hour later, Stede was standing on the lawn outside his house, wondering if he should knock. 

He decided against it, and opened the front door. The house was pretty quiet, looking and feeling about as lonely as it had a week ago.

“Hello?” he echoed into the cavernous, empty foyer. 

Stede heard the chaotic clattering of little feet coming from a distant part of the house before he was overtaken by Alma and a rather chocolatey-faced Louis. 

“Hi Dad!” Louis shouted while Alma put her hands over her ears. “We’re making cookies!” 

“Oh are we now?” Stede said, crouching down in front of them both. 

“Yachocolatechip!” Louis shouted again before turning abruptly and hurtling back down the hallway. Alma drew in a long, “give me strength” breath and watched as he went. 

“I wasn’t sure you were coming today,” she said, twisting her mouth in a shy almost-smile. 

“April fourth, right?” He said, reaching out and awkwardly giving her hand a little squeeze. “My bus got in a bit late today, that’s all. Where’s Mom?”

Alma shrugged. “Painting class.”

“Oh, so you’re baking cookies with Katie then? Well, perhaps I’ll let her go early and we can–”

“Well now, look who’s back.”

The voice made something twist sharply in Stede’s chest. A familiar prickliness tickled at his fingertips. 

Behind Alma, standing tall and straight in the same doorway Louis had just disappeared into, was Edward Bonnet. 

“Alma, your grandmother is waiting in the kitchen,” Stede’s father told her stiffly. Alma turned and looked up at Stede. 

“Do you want to help us make cookies?” she asked in a more subdued voice.

“I would love that,” Stede told her. 

“Alma, go let Granny know that your father is home,” Bonnet Sr. ordered. “The grown-ups have some things to discuss before anyone gets any cookies.”

“What are you–” Stede asked his father when Alma had gone.

“Doing here? In the house I paid for you mean?" Bonnet Sr. cut him off. “Between their mother running all over town thinking she’s an artist and their father doing lord-knows-what with lord-knows-who, someone needs to supervise these children." 

Stede knew from personal experience that meant his mother was anxiously micromanaging both the children and the nanny, while his father drank brandy in the den, surfacing only to deliver orders and criticisms. Precious memories. 

“I suppose you being here means your little fantasy tour has finally come to an end?” his father asked. 

“It’s finishing the day after tomorrow, actually,” Stede replied, flexing his hands behind his back.

“And I don’t imagine you have anything to say for yourself,” Bonnet Sr. drawled as though he hadn’t heard Stede. “About why you slunk away without a word to me. Or why you’ve been ignoring my calls, like some delinquent on the run.”

Stede felt an uncomfortable heat spreading from the top of his head through to his extremities. He tried to remember to breathe. He gave his tingling hands a shake. 

“No, I didn’t think so,” his father said. “Badminton had an interesting theory – would you care to hear it?"

Stede knew well enough by now that this wasn't the type of question that wanted answering. 

"He wondered whether you intended to surprise everyone with your extraordinary skills," the senior Bonnet continued, "amaze the team, and be asked to begin guiding on a regular basis."

Stede looked at his feet. That was, he realized, now that he'd heard it said aloud, exactly what he'd been hoping. 

"Well you were only partially correct I'm afraid," his father went on. "I am amazed that you didn't come to an untimely end out there. I'm also amazed that you imagined a world where you would be rewarded for embarrassing your family." 

Stede’s mind was both blank and racing. He’d been totally unprepared for this and couldn’t seem to keep up with anything being said to him. 

"Well?" 

It was now Stede’s turn to speak.

“I suppose… I just wanted,” Stede tried, ignoring a chorus of inner voices telling him to shut up, "to know what it was like.”

Edward Bonnet laughed at this, a short, dry, unkind laugh.

“And was it everything you hoped? Serving tea to freeloaders and sleeping in the mud?" 

“It was… amazing," Stede whispered instead, barely daring to breathe but unable to help himself. "The best." 

This enraged his father however, in the quiet, stiff, simmering way he allowed himself to be enraged. 

"Well I hope it was worth it. Because as of the day after tomorrow, you'll never set foot outside Bonnet Adventures again."

Stede had misheard him. He had to have misheard him. 

"What?" 

“Badminton and I thought accounting might be a better fit for you," Bonnet Sr. told him conversationally. "Away from the temptations of the Tours and Operations floor." 

"You're moving me out of tours," Stede said in disbelief, "because I did a good job leading one?" 

But his father stepped in close to him, taking full advantage of the half inch he had over his son. 

“Because you can't help yourself," he said with disgust, his voice low. "Because you would prefer to indulge in frivolities and ignore your responsibilities. Because you can't be trusted not to abandon your family and go do this all again." 

Tourist. 

Stede kept his chin up, but fixed his gaze on his father’s shoulder, unable to meet his eyes. 

"I don't think there's anything wrong with having dreams," he said softly and regretting it instantly, his trembling hands now clenched behind his back. 

Edward Bonnet stepped back and shook his head, darkly amused.

"Oh, I see. You think you’re the only one who wants things. You think I didn’t dream about being somewhere – anywhere – else every day when you were growing up? You’re not special for wanting a different life, boy. But you are weak for giving up the one you have.”

Stede swallowed, working at the lump in his throat. He couldn’t find the words to contradict his father, or express the thoughts in his head that were still very much just swirling intangibles, or feel anything below his elbows. 

“I think you've wasted enough of my time,” Bonnet Sr’s voice brought him back into the foyer. “Go on and finish living out your dream. Savor it. It’ll certainly be the last time you breathe fresh air on my dime."

His farther crossed the foyer and opened the front door for Stede.

Stede blinked. What was happening? “Can I–” he gestured to the hallway leading to the kitchen, where he could hear the clattering of baking sheets and Louis’ excited shout-talking. 

“Oh, I think that might just upset everyone, don’t you? All this back and forth, hellos and goodbyes,” Bonnet Sr. said coldly. “But don’t worry – until you arrived, they hadn't mentioned you at all.”

Before he knew it, Stede was standing on the front step of his house, facing the manicured lawn. He felt his feet taking him down the street, and later, he would vaguely recall ordering an Uber, but nothing would be entirely recollectable until he found himself back in the hotel lobby, ears ringing, staring blankly at his phone.

###

###

Ed stepped out of the Bonnet Adventures headquarters and into the late afternoon sunshine. He tucked some paperwork that was sure to make his accountant’s job easier into his jacket. 

Next stop, Fergberger.

He took one step forward and froze. Just ahead of him on the sidewalk, holding a manilla envelope similar to the one Ed had just collected from upstairs and staring straight at him, was Izzy. 

The man gave a small, uncomfortable wave. Ed turned on his heel, striding away in the opposite direction from where he’d intended.

“Edward!” He heard Izzy call and he knew he was going to follow. He sped up. 

“I know what you think and by the time I found that food it was already too late to do anything about it,” Izzy called as he tried to keep pace with Ed. 

“Yeah OK,” Ed said, unable to help himself. 

“And I would have warned you, but I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me–” Izzy tried, but Ed stopped. That was a bit much.

“I’m only going to say this once,” Ed said, “and then I’m going to walk away, enjoy a burger, and try to forget that I ever thought you were my friend.”

Izzy was hiding his emotions terribly. Staring up at Ed and darting rapidly from left to right, there was panic in Izzy’s eyes and maybe some sadness that Ed didn’t give a fuck about, and absolutely some fear about what Ed was going to say next. 

“I’m sorry,” Ed said, “if you ever felt like you had to take care of me. But it doesn’t mean you get to throw shit back at me after the fact.”

“Go on,” was all Izzy said. 

“You said some really shitty things that night,” Ed continued. 

“I'm listening.”

“Just because you’ve been there for me doesn’t mean you get a say in what comes next for me.”

“Are you done?"

Ed swallowed back a lump that was rising against a tightening in his throat. “And sure, maybe my life is messy sometimes. But it’s my mess, Iz.”

Izzy nodded.

Ed locked his jaw, waiting for Izzy to say something. But Izzy just shrugged.

“You’re right. I was a dick.” 

It was possible that Izzy might actually be an alien in an Izzy suit, because Izzy had always been medically incapable of admitting he was wrong.

“But I’m not sorry, Edward.”

There it is.

“If telling you harsh truths so that you can open your eyes is part of being your friend, then I’m willing to do it,” Izzy said, crossing his arms in front of his chest with the air of an adult squaring off with a willful teen. 

“If trying to stop you from making mistakes that might ruin your life is what friends do, then, yeah, I’m not sorry.”

Something clicked in Ed then, like a light had just been turned on and something was, so strangely, for the first time ever, plain as day.

He tilted his head at Izzy, suddenly more curious than anything else. A mere five days ago, he would have agreed with Izzy. Appreciated him, even. After all, they’d been on the same road together for so long, moving in the same direction, following the same map.

But now, it almost felt as though Ed had jogged ahead, just a little bit, had seen a few things, gotten directions from others along the way, and had new information that Izzy didn’t have. 

Because, he realized, incredulous with how obvious it now was, Izzy really believed what he was saying: that he had said those things out of friendship. That it was sometimes necessary to harm someone you cared about. He was referring to the same map they’d always used. He only knew what he’d seen so far on the road. He wasn’t interested in knowing more. 

Ed, though, knew there was more. More to see, more to want, more ways to move through the world other than according to Izzy’s route. He knew now that trying to prevent the unknown wasn’t as important as making his own choices. 

Ed wanted to see where the road led next. Izzy seemed… stuck on the curb.

“We’re not friends, Iz,” Ed said, gently, knowing exactly how that was going to land. “We’re… well, we’re toxic. It’s not your fault, not really. It just… is.”

Izzy looked stunned. 

“And if either of us are ever going to be OK, we…” he took a huge, deep, nourishing breath. “We need to admit that.”

Ed could practically see the wheels turning in Izzy’s head. 

“What the f–” he started, but Ed cut him off.

“It doesn’t have to be forever,” Ed said, easing his hands into his pockets. “But it does need to be now.”

He waited for a moment, to give Izzy a chance to say something, but Izzy couldn’t seem to find the words. Ed took a step back in the direction he’d originally been going, ready to move on.

“Good luck Iz,” Ed said, meaning it. Then, without hurrying, he walked away and didn’t look back. 

###

###

MARY TEXTING STEDE
Mary: Pick up Stede. I had no idea you were coming, please believe me. 
Mary: Are you ok? I’m guessing he was pretty horrible. I'd really like to talk, can you call me back 

###

ED TEXTING STEDE
Ed: Hey, how were errands? Fergberger = wicked good
Ed: Fancy a drink? 

###

The Adventure Crew group chat was trading ideas on which bar to meet up at, but Stede had already moved himself up to his room, into pajamas and through a few minibar-sized bags of potato chips before crawling into the covers and staring at the television for four straight hours. 

Thoughts poked away at the edge of his consciousness, but he fought them off with salty snacks and reality TV until they got tired of trying and retreated to some darker place and sleep began to take their place.

Stede had just pushed the empty chip bags off his bedspread and turned off his lamp when his phone, long ago turned on its face, lit up, a thin line of blue light outlining the edges of the screen. 

He considered not looking at it, but technically being on the clock, he reasoned he should give it a glance.

###

ED TEXTING STEDE:
Ed: “Night mate” 

Chapter Text

MAP - QUEENSTOWN TO MILFORD SOUND

###

STEDE TEXTING ADVENTURE CREW

Avast ye! 

I hope you've all got your sea legs, because we are about to set sail! 

Today we head into Milford Sound, part of the glorious Fiordland National Park. There waiting for us will be the Fiordland Navigator, a sturdy vessel that will take us on an overnight tour through the fiords. 

Expect to see dolphins! Expect to see penguins! Seals! And our old favourite: waterfalls! I've heard as well, this is a great spot for rainbow photos. 

So hoist the main sail and prepare the cannons! We are spending our last proper day together on the high seas (although the fiord is quite calm, I hear, so don't worry about sea sickness)! 

See you on the bus at 8am! 

"A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are built for.”

— John G. Shed 

###

Stede finished checking out and headed out the sliding doors of the hotel lobby, ready to join the others on the bus. 

He was ready to play the cheerful guide, ready to push yesterday’s encounter to the back of his mind, ready to sit and joke with Ed for the next 24 hours and pretend this trip was all there ever was. 

What Stede was not ready for, was to find Mary standing on the sidewalk, just a little behind where the bus was parked.

“Hi,” he greeted her, surprised and a little petrified. 

“The office said you were staying here,” Mary explained. 

Stede didn’t know what to say. Then– “Are the kids OK? I left without–”

“Saying goodbye,” Mary finished for him. “Again. I know. But yes, they’re OK. Alma is properly pissed at you, though, as she should be.” She paused. “Are you OK? Was he completely awful?”

Mary had always been like this. Measured and slow to anger, considerate of others, empathetic. Brought up well, as his parents had said. 

But unlike her own childhood, which was full of repressed emotions, Mary had always wanted their childrens’ to be filled with naming their feelings, expressing themselves, acknowledging before reacting. She worked hard to be a model for them with her own behaviour, and succeeded for the most part – except when it came to all things Stede.

Stede cast a glance over his shoulder; everyone seemed to already be on the coach.

“I’m sorry–” he started but Mary shook her head. 

“No Stede, this isn’t going to be where I forgive you. We,” she gestured between them, “still have a lot to talk about.”

Stede hung his head. “I know. I’ll be home tomorrow, perhaps we can talk about it all then?”

Mary sighed. “Or… maybe you just don’t come back.”

Stede must have looked stunned because Marty hastened to add:

“Yet. maybe don’t come back yet."

"I… don't understand?"

Mary took a deep breath. “Look, Stede, I’m angry. The kids are confused. But really, more than anything, I'm just so… tired."

She turned her head and gazed down the street, suddenly lost in a thought. There was a layer of guilt to her tone, as though she wasn't certain he'd agree, or understand. 

"I'm tired of us never understanding each other. I'm tired of feeling upset all the time because you don’t seem to care about me in any way that actually matters. I'm tired of being hurt and wanting to hurt you back."

She looked at him then and searched his face for something. 

"I mean, aren't you tired, Stede?" 

Stede felt a familiar sad exhaustion rise up like a slow swell within him. He was so tired. Of his father, this life. Never feeling like he fit. 

"Yeah, I… I am," he admitted. Mary looked immensely relieved. 

“You leaving like that made me… we’ve been in a bubble for so long. Kind of.. trapped. With each other,” Mary said, shaking her head. “I meant it when I said I wanted us to think about what made us feel alive, and now that I’ve started doing that… I'm not sure I can go back to before.” 

She seemed worried about his response. “Do you know what I’m talking about?”

Stede took Mary in, this person he’d known for years and somehow still didn’t feel like he knew at all. He felt like that was his fault. He knew he should be devastated, that he should try to change her mind. But inside of him, it felt like clouds were parting. 
 
“I really think I do,” he said. Mary visibly relaxed. 

“Obviously we still have a lot to figure out,” Mary said. 

Stede nodded slowly. 

"What about the kids?" Stede’s head was swimming and he didn’t know if it was good or bad.

Mary nodded; she'd thought about that too. 

"I don't want them growing up in an unhappy house, Stede. They deserve better than what we had for parents. I think… if we're OK, they'll be OK. What they really need is some clarity."

“I want them to be happy,” Stede said with so much meaning. “I just don’t know– what does clarity look like?”
 
Mary took yet another deep breath, readying herself. "Here's the thing. And I'm not saying this to hurt you…" she added, back to being worried about his response.

"Life… really hasn’t been all that different this week than when you were here.” 

She took a moment to let that sink in. 

"It actually felt better sometimes, because we weren't all wondering whether you were listening to us – or even wanted to be there. You were gone, and we all knew where we stood."

"You didn't miss me." Stede meant it as a question but it didn't come out that way. 

"No–of course we did. Especially Alma. But we were also… fine?" Mary crossed her arms in front of her chest, uncomfortable but pushing through. "I mean– that's kind of the best case scenario for something like this, don't you think? You wouldn’t want them up crying every night, right?" 

Stede felt sick, a sensory overwhelm rising up from the most basic parts of reality. The truth hitting far too hard. 

"That said," Mary continued, treading softly, "showing up unannounced yesterday and then leaving without warning, without saying goodbye – that did more damage than a week of you just not being there." 

"So I think that before you come back, you need to ask yourself if you're ready – really ready – to be the dad they need? Because if you're going to pick up and leave whenever you get bored, or spend all your time wishing you were somewhere else, that's not going to work. They feel that, Stede.”

She waited. She watched everything settle on Stede’s shoulders. She sighed.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

She was right, of course. He felt a sudden pang at the memory of Izzy saying he dropped people like it's nothing. He didn't want that to be true. 

But, this week had made him realize – or at least, was making him start to wonder – what he'd been missing in his life. He knew he'd miss it again, this source of happiness and confidence and belonging he’d found. 

Even now, if he was being honest with himself, he was half-thinking about what was happening with everyone on the bus, what he was missing. What sort of new happiness awaited him today.

Beside them, the coach rumbled to life.

“I should go,” Stede said, gratefully distracted by the engine.

“Right,” Mary sighed, still calm but clearly frustrated. “Don’t keep them waiting.”

Stede was steeling himself. He knew if he didn't get away soon, he'd crumple right in front of her. This had been too much. 

“I promise I’ll think about it,” he said, looking around to the front of the bus to hide his face from her. 

“Alright Stede. But listen,” she reached out and tugged at his jacket lapel so he’d turn around. “Don’t come right home tomorrow. Text me first. We need to decide what the next step is.”

Stede was in full escape mode now, and only nodded as he took steps toward the coach door.

“I will, I’ll text you,” he promised. “See you tomorrow, I’m sorry I’ve got to go.”

Stede left Mary on the sidewalk and climbed up onto the coach. It drove past her once it pulled out of the lobby loop, and Stede caught a glimpse of his wife, hands in her pockets, chin up, walking down the street looking light and composed and relieved and seeming so sure. 

He envied her.  

###

###

The Fiordland Navigator was quite a vessel. Designed to resemble a coastal sailing scow, which were once a frequent sight in Fiordland during Aotearoa’s trading heydays, it was a fun combination of dignified wooden interiors and kitschy textiles, of nostalgic sails and rigging, and of carpeting in the strangest places, like the dining salon. 

The PR team had booked the entire tour group in private cabins, except of course, for Stede and Ed, who were relegated to the cosy but rustic quad-bunk compartments below deck that only had a curtain separating their compartment from those of the other passengers. 

“Shared bathrooms?” Stede said with distaste as he and Ed checked out their digs. “There’s about 30 other people down here.”

“Thankfully it’s only for one night,” Ed said, amused at Stede's rich boy scowl. “Plus, having done this before, I can tell you the bunk beds are way more comfy than that cot at Aoraki.”

“Well that's something," Stede conceded as they started climbing the stairs to the main deck for lunch. 

He glanced briefly at Ed, wondering if he was going to say more about that night – like the fact that he hadn’t slept in the cot at all. "And at least this time, I won't have to fight you for the softer mattress."

"Uh," Ed made a face, faux-confused, "does screaming 'no' a bunch of times and jumping on someone's back count as fighting?" 

Stede’s face became dead serious. On the inside though, he was happy to accept the light-hearted chatter Ed was tossing his way. An easy distraction, a joke – that kind of thing was so easy with him and Stede wanted to escape into that ease. So sure, he could josh about fighting for the couch at Aoraki.

"Oh, absolutely yes." 

Ed pretended to be thinking hard. 

"OK but what about the begging after you'd lost?"

"Oh," Stede scoffed, looking at Ed like he was totally missing the mark. "It's called psychological warfare? Ever heard of it?" 

Ed barked a laugh and held open a door for Stede that was leading into the dining galley. 

"OK please explain to me how that works because I am dying to know." 

They spotted the group clustered in a long booth-bench combination by a window and headed over, still engaged in their discourse. 

"Quite simple really. I lure you into a false sense of superiority by begging you to reconsider, and then when you're not expecting it, POW !" Stede leapt in front of Ed and grabbed him by the shoulders, "I strike!" 

"Uh, no I don't think that's how it went at all –" Ed argued, grinning broadly and grabbing Stede's wrists off his shoulders, instigating a weird tug of war over who was in control of Stede's hands. 

“Believe it, buddy boy–”

“Buddy boy?!”

The two were so wrapped up in their exchange – which had devolved into mostly just giggling and talking over each other as they jostled about – they were oblivious to everything else around them. 

The group, however, who were all staring silently, all frozen in various stages of what they'd been doing before Stede had "pow'd" Ed, were extremely aware of what was going on. 

Jim hid their face behind Olu’s shoulder. Swede rested his chin in his hands, watching unabashedly. Without looking away, Roach slid Frenchie a few crumpled bills. Frenchie took them, smug. 

"Oh my God this is happening," Lucius breathed, a biscuit suspended halfway to his mouth. 

Stede and Ed stopped then, Ed still grasping Stede’s wrists, holding his arms aloft, and turned to the group in the booth. 

"What?" they both said. 

###

NO GUIDES GROUP CHAT

Lucius: OMG OMG OMG
Jim: like.
Pete: omg I'm so uncomfortable but also very invested?
Lucius how invested babe
Pete: omg no stay out of it
Lucius : ugh fiiiine
Roach: I just lost $30
Frenchie: easiest $30 I ever made 
Olu: i think it's sweet
Jim: you would
Olu: !!!
Frenchie: ok, bets on them actually figuring it out? 
Roach: I'll take that action 
Swede: what are you guys talking about 
###

Once the ship had sailed away from the mainland and well into the fjords, the afternoon was spent  in kayaks, navigating the shore in search of dolphins and penguins. 

Unlike Abel Tasman, where the water had been a vivid turquoise, the water in Fiordland National Park was inky black in some spots and a rich, deep teal in others, and beautifully smooth.

Verdant ridges towered over the group, cutting into the clouds above as they wound their way along the coast, which was itself shrouded in an ethereal mist. 

The region was coming out of a week of heavy rain, according to their Navigator kayak guide, which was why there happened to be dozens and dozens of slender catchments all around them, cascading down the mossy granite slopes and returning to the fiord. 

“You are improving,” Ed complimented Stede, who had been trusted to captain his own kayak this time around. “Kinda.”

Stede flicked a splash of water at Ed with his paddle. 

“I think this is my new favourite thing.”

“Oh yeah? Thinking of plummeting head-first into being a sea-kayak leader next?” Ed teased. “I gotta warn you though, if you thought adventure guiding is tough– what?” he stopped as Stede’s smile faltered. 

“What? Oh, it’s nothing–” Stede covered casually. “I’m just… not sure how much guiding I’ll be getting up to after this.”

“Really?” Ed looked taken aback. “I thought you were loving it.”

Stede did a few strokes in the water. He didn’t want to say “My father is putting me in a windowless room and never letting me out again,” so instead, he said: 

“I was. I am. But I got lucky this time around – they needed a last-minute sub. Who’s going to hire someone like me, with no certifications and next to no experience?”

“Uh, lots of places?” Ed replied. “The entire face of the tourism industry is under-qualified white guys Stede, you’ve got the world at your feet.”

Ed was joking (except not really), but he could tell something was eating at Stede, who, though he hid it well, had lost a bit of spark since Aoraki. 

“Can you believe it’s our last night?” Stede ventured, changing the conversation.

“Yeah,” Ed sighed, taking in the splendor. “These trips all come to an end, but the good ones always seem to go faster.”

They paddled quietly for a bit, the group getting ahead of them. When they were out of earshot, Stede cleared his throat. 

“So…I’m uh, terrible at goodbyes,” Stede said, lifting his paddle out of the water and watching the water drip down.

There was only the sound of water trickling off a paddle between them. Then–

“Yeah, me too."

“So could we maybe,” Stede said hesitantly, “agree not to do that? A whole sad goodbye thing tomorrow?" 

Ed chanced a look at Stede, and caught him just as he looked away.

“Why would we?” Ed said with forced bravado. "I'm sure we'll talk loads - we… can keep the group chat open or something." 

“Absolutely,” Stede nodded. “Are you leaving like everyone else tomorrow, flying out of Queenstown?”

Ed leaned back in his kayak, pulling the paddle up to rest. “Actually I haven’t decided yet. I don’t have anything lined up – thought I might actually take some time off. Maybe stay in the South Island a bit, run a few winter treks here and there."

“You're not leaving?”

Ed didn’t answer right away. He wanted to get this right; not take a risk but not close any doors, either. Not until he was sure he knew what they weren’t talking about. 

“I don’t have plans, yet,” he heard himself say. “I figured, what’s the rush?”

“Really?” Stede seemed to light up at this. Ed decided to lean in.

“Yeah, I mean, why not. Hey – maybe we could even hang out sometimes. You can show me some of those trails you said you hike on the weekends.”

This suggestion seemed to sit differently, because Stede’s hopeful smile faded then. 

“Hey,” he poked at Stede’s paddle with his. “Are you OK?”

Stede recovered and bounced back to beaming. “Of course. Look where we are!” 

###

###

After they’d kayaked the length of a strait and photographed wildlife to their satisfaction, the group split up to change into drier clothes and then met back at their long window booth in the bustling dining hall. 

“I think I should give a speech,” Stede whispered to Ed halfway through the meal. “Given it’s our last night and all.”

“Maybe wait on that,” Ed advised. 

As if on cue, Lucius stood up, a glass of wine aloft. 

“OK listen up, because I am about to do something really out of character and recognize someone else’s achievements,” he announced, prompting the others to launch into good-natured goading. 

“Yeah, yeah, calm yourselves. As you all know, it’s customary to thank the guides on the final night, an honor that typically falls upon the shoulders of the most charismatic of the group.”

This was met with boos and laughter.

“Alright, yes. Bloody animals. Let’s all raise our glasses to Stede and Ed,” Lucius held his glass out with a straight arm, suddenly very stern. “Our illustrious guides, our directors of entertainment, our walking, talking itineraries, the guys who made sure none of us had to share a hotel room more than, well, a few times,” he grinned wickedly at this. 

“And in Ed’s case, the guy who saved my hide twice in one week. What can I say, I’m incorrigible, and Ed, this gorgeous genius, was always ready to scoop me up and carry me, Bodyguard-style, to safety. So. Thank you Ed.” 

Ed rolled his eyes but nodded his head at the acknowledgement. 

“In my humble opinion, we also have these two to thank for the bizarre and beautiful vibe of this group,” Lucius continued. “Ed with his lifetime of wilderness and cultural knowledge, his survival skills and hands-on experience, his brooding dry humour – and Stede, with his icebreakers.” 

Stede perked up, cautiously piqued. 

“That first game on day one was truly the game that launched a thousand inside jokes – and made us all want to know more about the weirdos we were travelling with. Stede, you may be hopeless when it comes to outdoor survival, but you absolutely know a thing or two about bringing people together.”

The group clapped and hooted in agreement, nodding and grinning at Stede to drive their point home. Stede felt himself flush. He was thrilled and sad and overwhelmed in the very best way. It was all he could do to hold himself together. 

Then, beside him, under the table, someone gently bumped his foot with theirs. He instinctively looked to where it would be coming from. But Ed was staring straight ahead, attuned to the end of Lucius’ toast. But his foot remained, still and gentle and firm. Grounding him. 

Stede remembered to breathe. 

“So thank you both, for a FAM that was not the worst.” Lucius concluded. “To Stede and Ed!”

“To Stede and Ed!” 

Chapter Text

###
As everyone tucked into their meal, Stede turned to Ed, but he was chatting with Jim, and then passing Roach the salt, and then laughing at something Olu said. Stede turned his attention to something Pete was saying, but his attention was divided.

They were facing opposite directions, but Ed’s foot was still gently pressed against Stedes, and while he inwardly chastised himself for making it about anything other than the fact that everyone was crammed in together at the table, he couldn’t help but magnify the feeling of warmth, of belonging, it gave him. 

Never much for introspection, Stede found himself wondering at the difference between how his family had all made him feel yesterday – tense, harmful, disappointing – and how he felt now. 

Almost as though on cue, Ed mentioned Stede’s name and put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his conversation with Olu and Jim. 

Stede felt a pang then, wistful and a little sad, but also warm and fizzy, like butterflies but with a bit of sparkle.

Shit. He was not ready for tomorrow. 

“OK, so, where’s everybody off to next?” Roach asked the table sometime later as they all settled into dessert and coffee. 

“Ugh, back to London,” Lucius said. “Here comes the part of our jobs where we actually have to work.”

“We owe so many travel brands so many videos of us enjoying their product,” Pete added. “We won’t see the sun for months.”

“Me either,” Swede piped up. “I’m headed to Antarctica to check out White Desert.”

“Atzaró, in Ibiza,” Jim told everyone. “It’s this wicked hotel set on 10 acres of orange groves.”

Roach was off to a river cruise of Vietnam. John was stopping to see friends in Baja en route to New York. 

Everyone came alive at the prospect of each other’s next adventure, as though whatever they had lined up to follow would take the sting out of their current one ending. Stede had no such luck.

“But we’ll be back,” Olu assured him as a consolation. “For the Adventure Travel Summit next October.”

“Oh, that's my favourite conference,” Roach sighed. “One year, they had it in Christchurch and helicoptered us to the top of a mountain for the closing night party. Unbelievable.” 

“Jet lag is going to kill me,” Frenchie was telling Ed to his right. “I’m headed to a luxury wilderness camp in East Greenland. The travel is a slog but it’ll be worth it: Sea kayaking, whale watching, Arctic foraging with Inuit guides – really unique.”

“Really?” Ed asked. “Luxury? In Greenland?”

“Totally,” Frenchie confirmed. “It’s owned by this lodge company that are bananas about ‘impossible luxury’ – high end experiences in remote places.”

“What’s next for you?” Olu asked Ed.

“Nothing as cool as Greenland,” Ed said. “I figure I might stick around here a while, see what pops up.”

“Oh, that’s an interesting choice,” Lucius chided across the table. “Whatever could be in Queenstown that’s so intoxicating–” he stopped when Pete poked him. 

"Bungee jumping," Ed told him stiffly. Lucius made a face. 

“I can introduce you to that lodge company,” Frenchie offered. “I did a profile on their CEO. Might be a good fit for you; no coach tour, no hotel bookings – just you, a handful of guests each week and a whole season in the Arctic summer.”

“Never been to Greenland,” Ed admitted. “But… I don’t know.”

“Actually, the more I think about it – you’d really love it,” Frenchie said. “The guides get their hands on pretty much everything – cooking, kayaking, the works. You’d set the menu, the itinerary – make up your own rules.”

Ed seemed hesitant. Without meaning to, he looked at Stede. Then everyone looked at Stede.

“Well,” Stede said, looking around at everyone, “it sounds like it’d be an amazing experience. Not too much day to day travel, Indigenous-centered experiences, and cooking? I’d say… go for it?”

Ed stared at him. The conversation continued around him, the sound of it now aggravating his senses. Why would Stede encourage him to fly to Greenland when he’d already told him he wanted to stay in Queenstown? 

Ed excused himself. 

He was washing his hands when Lucius burst into the bathroom.

“Hey there,” he greeted Ed like he was greeting a frightened kitten. ”How ya doing?”

Ed raised an eyebrow and reached for a towel. “Did you mix liquor and wine again?”

“Funny,” Lucius said, leaning up against the counter. “Pete’s going to kill me for this – he thinks I have a problem with meddling, which, like, don’t even get me started–”

“Lucius.”

“Right.” Lucius cleared his throat. “I know why you want to stay in Queenstown. And I know it has nothing to do with bungee jumping.”

“Oh really?” Ed tossed the towel in the basket under the counter.

“Listen Ed,” Lucius said, suddenly softer, more serious. “You need to make the first move. He’s never going to figure it out on his own. He needs… a bit of a push.”

“What the hell,” Ed asked politely, “are you on about?”

“Please,” Lucius was impatient. “You can play dumb if you want, but I’ve been onto you two ever since you had a whole devastating goodbye moment on Tongariro.”

Ed pressed his lips together, and didn’t respond at first, but then he sighed.

“He’s married,” he said quietly to Lucius. 

“Yeah… I don’t think that’s the hurdle you think it is,” Lucius replied. “I mean, you’re technically right so don’t go bananas, but it’s really worth having a conversation, if you get my drift.”

“How do you know?” Ed asked skeptically. 

“Let’s just say I learned a lot when I was stranded in bitter, mountainous isolation with him,” Lucius said, breezing past Ed into the stall. 

“Yeah, uh, you were only three kilometers from the village,” Ed said as Lucius disappeared behind the door. He turned and stared at himself in the mirror. 

Was he doing this?

It’s worth having a conversation. 

He took a deep breath. He felt like, after Aoraki, things had shifted somewhat in that direction. Something in the way Stede looked at him, touched him – were those signs? But then they hadn't seen much of each other yesterday, and now Stede was suggesting he leave for Greenland–

“Oh, my god just go talk to him!” Lucius’ voice commanded from inside the stall. 

###

###

Once dinner had been cleared away, people settled in for after-dinner drinks and an educational slideshow about the history of Fiordland, led by the ship’s naturalist, a cheery woman in a beige explorer ensemble.

“Fiordland National Park covers 1.3 million hectares and has been a World Heritage Area since 1985,” she explained, clicking through images that very much reflected the scenery surrounding them in the mostly-glass galley. 

“Glaciers scoured the Fiordland landscape for tens of thousands of years, carving the fiords, lakes and deep U-shaped valleys that make the park so unique. There are fourteen fiords in the park and there are hundreds of lakes inland.” 

“Captain Cook and his crew were the first to discover Fiordland in the 18th century,” the naturalist continued, and every single member of the Bonnet Adventures group, still collected in their long window booth, turned their heads to Ed, who widened his eyes as though to say "I told you so" and mouthed “ Walt. Disney.”

“Captain Cook’s excellent maps and descriptions– Oh. Yes? Question?” the naturalist said, pointing to a raised hand in the room. 

“Hello," Swede waved. "Are you saying there were no other people here before Cook arrived?” 

“Yeah, you said buddy ‘discovered’ Fiordland in the 18th century," Pete added, "but didn't Māori get here like, a thousand years ago?"

“Oh of course , there were Māori here before Cook, that's absolutely right,” the naturalist replied, smiling broadly before continuing. 

"Cook's maps and descriptions soon attracted sealers and whalers who formed the first settlements of New Zealand."

“Settlements? Is that like, colonization?” Frenchie called out in a faux ignorant, curious voice.

The naturalist smiled, cleared her throat with a high-pitched little cough, and continued.

“Ahm, yes, the first settlements largely comprised British colonies,” she finally replied. Ed felt a few familiar eyes on him again but this time he didn’t react. 

“Interestingly though,” she continued, “Cook named Doubtful Sound because his crew wanted to explore it, but he refused, because he wasn’t sure if they went into the fiord, they’d be able to get out– uh, yes?”

“Scuse me,” Oluwande said, lowering his hand, “I’m just wondering if you could tell us the Māori name for the park?”

“I’m sorry?” the naturalist still hadn’t stopped smiling.

“You know, all the places in Aotearoa have Māori names,” Jim explained in a 'you know exactly what we're talking about' tone. “So what’s this one’s?”

“Erm, I’m not 100% sure. I believe it’s called ‘Shadowland’ – but I can’t pronounce the Māori translation," she said apologetically, like she was silly. 

“It’s Ata Whenua," Lucius suddenly piped up in his perpetually exasperated Lucius way. He cast a glance at Ed, who was gaping at him, and rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t look so surprised.”

“Wowee, we have a shipload of historians on board today!” the naturalist beamed, clapping her hands as though entertaining kindergartners. “So, Māori didn’t really spend a lot of time here because it was a difficult place to survive, with the mountains and such. But after Cook, who is known for having a very respectful relationship with Māori–”

“--that included disease and murder,” Ed muttered so only Stede could hear him–

“--which he maintained with all the native people he visited–”

“--colonized,” Ed added quietly–

“--during his travels. In fact, Cook’s instructions from the King of England was to be patient and gentle with the native peoples he came across.”

“OK,” Ed breathed, standing up. “I think that’s me. I’ll see you after,” he muttered to Stede. 

He was through and out of the room before anyone could say a word. A moment later, Stede followed.

“I'm sorry," Roach was calling. "But you don't actually expect us to believe that, do you?...”

###

NO GUIDES CHAT
Frenchie: ok i need to shower i feel GROSS
Lucius: I'm going to the bar 
Jim: word
Olu: Anyone got eyes on Ed
John: I'll text them 
Lucius: NO DON'T 
John:? 
Jim: ? 
Oluwande: ?
Lucius: they're…busy. I think.
Pete: wtf did you do
Lucius : 😇
###

Ed was glad for the fresh air, and he breathed in lung loads of it once he reached the back of the ship and took in the fiord around him, breathtaking and overwhelming in its unreal beauty.

Dusk was starting to settle in; the sun had long slipped behind the looming emerald peaks, and the air was cool.

“Everything alright?” Stede asked, arriving at his side. 

Before, Ed had resolved to have a conversation' with Stede, but though they were finally alone, all the talk in there had knocked it out of him. Now he just wanted quiet. 
 
“Oh, lovely,” Ed answered sarcastically. “Par for the course in this fucking country.”

“It must be hard, leading tours here and trying to tell the whole story,” Stede ventured. “When so many people are still getting it wrong.”

“Getting it wrong on purpose Stede,” Ed corrected him. He winced at the tone. He knew his anger was plenty valid, but he didn't want to put it on Stede. 

He grasped the railing with both hands and leaned backward, head tilted up to the sky. “That’s why I kind of hate working here, to be honest. It never gets easier, seeing all the ways they try to erase us."

Ed went quiet then. He was closing up again, and Stede knew there was a window closing before he wouldn’t be able to reach him anymore. He stepped forward beside Ed, taking hold of the railing, too. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t speak. But he knew what had worked for him. 

Slowly, he inched his foot sideways until it connected with Ed’s. 

Next to him, Ed's mouth twisting upward despite itself, and he glanced up at Stede. They held the moment for each other, until something appeared in Ed’s eyes that made Stede blush and look away. 

Ed cleared his throat. Stupid Lucius and his stupid meddling. This was all murky as hell. 

“Fuck this ship. Let's get pissed.”

Stede gave this some thought. 

"Or," he said, still in the midst of a developing idea. He grinned at Ed, a certain spark in his eye. 

###

###

It was entirely dark by the time Stede and Ed returned to the back of the boat, Stede from the bunks with anoraks and his backpack; Ed with a bottle of brandy he’d nicked from the dining room bar, which had been abandoned by most guests for the discovery lounge for an interpretive stargazing presentation. 

“OK,” Stede said, holding up both hands, fingers spread wide, “follow me.” 

And then he was off, sneaking like he was on a secret mission. Ed strolled after him. 

For Ed, the kayak, dinner, Lucius, the presentation – made it hard to keep up with everything, the thoughts and emotions around those moments were figures moving behind foggy glass. 

But for all his mixed signals, Stede’s energy was catching, as usual. As soon as he tugged Ed along by the sleeve of his shirt, the foggy figures faded, however slightly, and it became less important to perceive them with clarity.

Stede led Ed up the stairs to the topmost deck, just behind the wheelhouse. He was looking around for something that was unclear. 

“Can I help?” Ed asked, watching Stede scanning around aimlessly. “OK, Stede, what are we doing?”

“Umm ha!” Stede found it: a ladder, painted white and almost invisible in the dark, against the back of the wheelhouse, leading up to an equally difficult to discern trapdoor. “I knew there had to be something here – I saw a drawing hanging outside the bathroom. C’mon.”

“I… don’t think this is part of the guest experience,” Ed said dubiously. 

“Oh, says who?” Stede said dismissively already halfway up the ladder. 

“Uh, the sign that says ‘crew only?’ In big black letters, there,” Ed pointed at the sign, which was eye-level for him, but at foot-level for Stede, as he had already climbed to the top and pushed open the trapdoor. 

Ed looked around, but they seemed out of sight of the wheelhouse, which only had windows at the front and sides; the trapdoor seemed unguarded. Stede’s face appeared in the square opening above. 

“They wouldn’t leave it unlocked if they absolutely didn’t want people sneaking up here, now come on!” he said, suddenly very bossy. 

“Who are you?” Ed demanded of the man who had been worried about trespassing at a lighthouse not too long ago. He hurried up the ladder.

They were now above the topmost deck, on a landing without railings, at the very back of the ship. There was a New Zealand flag fluttering in the low breeze at one end, a couple of exhaust pipes and a large white mast and sail poking out of its centre, and a raised area at the front of the deck, shielding them from view of anyone below.

“OK, now what?” Ed asked, shutting the trap door behind him.

“So. This might be a ridiculous idea,” Stede said, nervous and excited – and, Ed admitted – being pretty cute about it. “So just tell me if you think it’s stupid, OK?”

“Yeah, alright,” Ed said, now curious. 

Stede stepped forward primly and took Ed by the hands, muttering “this way this way,” under his breath as he led Ed over to the mast. 

The thing towered over both of them, large and white and some kind of metal, situated in the very centre of the deck, home to a huge sail unfurled above their heads.

“OK, so it's not a lighthouse, but…” Stede released Ed’s hands, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a black Sharpie like it was a magic wand.

Ed stared at the marker, and then at Stede. Stede uncapped the Sharpie with no small amount of flair and handed it to him. 

“Go ahead,” Stede said nodding at the mast. 

“Are you serious?” Ed couldn’t help but smirk. 

“Well, I’m not going to threaten to throw you into the sea or anything, but yes.”

Ed shrugged and took the marker. He appreciated the callback, supposing this was ‘their' thing now, which was kind of nice. He crouched down at the mast and wrote his name at its base, then stood back up again. 

Stede's tone, he noticed, had now shifted from frenetic enthusiasm to something more grounded, warm. 

Stede took the marker and repeated his action, writing his own name beside Ed’s. Casting up a winning smile, he then connected the two with a ‘+’ before getting to his feet and handing the Sharpie back to Ed. 

The two observed their work, their names indelibly scrawled together on yet another spot in the country. 

“There,” Stede said. He turned to Ed. “Something they can’t just erase.”

It happened like a hard reset, a quick failure of energy that powered the lights down briefly in Ed's mind. When they flickered back on again, everything was illuminated. 

And the noise that had been swirling around inside of Ed every day this week – the shouldn’ts, the what if’s, every reason to dismiss what he was feeling – was gone. 

Because every day since they'd met, Stede had taken whatever part of Ed that had shown itself, and with a strange, patient fondness, he’d always chosen closeness. Even when it was a risk. Even when he really didn't have to. Every. Time. 

Now, with the sort of urgency that always comes with suddenly knowing many things at once, Ed fully felt in his blood, in his pounding heart, what that choice of closeness really meant – what it had meant all along. 

And he wanted – needed – Stede to feel it too.

The marker rolled out of Ed’s hand, and with a single small step he had closed the space between them by the time it clattered to the floor. 

The rest was a blur, a beautiful blur, of Ed’s fingertips, Stede’s hair, parted lips, and the safety, the thrill , of seeing and knowing. Of being seen, and being known.

It was a light kiss, barely a whisper of a kiss. A kiss accounting for every moment Ed had marveled at Stede that week, been winded by Stede that week. A kiss that contained every unsaid moment between them, as large and expansive as the sky overhead. A galaxy of a kiss. 

And then there was Stede. 

Stede, with his hands suspended between them, unsure of where to go. Stede, holding his breath and standing stone still, but his eyes were closed and he hadn’t pulled away yet. 

Just as Ed was about to check in, maybe apologize, maybe run, Stede’s hands found the front of Ed’s fleece, and he was kissing him backhewaskissinghimback. 

They stayed inside of it together, this kiss, as they slowly came undone. 

Ed’s hands smoothing down and around Stede’s shoulders, gently pulling him a little bit closer. Stede’s fingers feeling their way up Ed's throat to touch his face. Ed’s heart singing. Stede relaxing into him. 

When they finally parted, it was only at the lips, the air between them filling with shy, breathy laughs, whisper-quiet. Their foreheads touching, noses brushing, they contained their kiss like a secret, this precious thing that had, in an instant, made everything so real. 

Ed didn’t want to open his eyes. He could already feel the moment fading away, and when it did, it would be gone forever. Time was pulling at them; it had to end at some point. But if his eyes stayed closed, perhaps the time could stretch, just a little. 

It was Stede who stepped back first, taking Ed’s heart with him. But he didn’t go far, his hands sliding down the length of Ed’s arms to find their match, fingers seeking shelter in his palms. 

The moment was gone, and all the certainty that had driven Ed there evaporated. He was on that ledge in Abel Tasman all over again, on the tip of something unknown and terrifying and entirely not within his control. 

But when he opened his eyes, Stede was waiting for him, watching him with his head slightly bowed, seeing past Ed’s wildest fears into something only he knew was there. 

Something shiny and bright. 

There was moonlight on Stede’s face, catching a tear that glimmered on its slow journey south. Ed reached up to greet it with a brush of his thumb, and Stede sighed. 

Ed realized then: he wasn't on a ledge, nor was he standing alone. 

Because Stede didn’t feel terrifying or unknown. 

He just felt like home. 

Chapter Text

###

Stede may not have known what was coming, but he’d come prepared for something. 

After spreading out the woolen blankets from their bunks he’d stuffed into his pack and pulling out the half-bottle of brandy Ed had brought, he presented –

– “A stellarscope,” he revealed like it was a naughty secret. “It provides a map of the night sky, of all the constellations.”
 
They were seated on the nest of blankets, tucked between the mast they’d just marked and the raised platform at the front of the deck. The sky was a strange, deep periwinkle, a tapestry of astral brilliance, a twinkling awning above them.

“Do you know Takurua?” Stede asked, holding the stellarscope to his eye. “It’s the brightest–”

“Stede, mate, I’m Māori?” Ed cut in. “And an adventure guide. I know a little bit about constellations.”

“Oh,” Stede blushed embarrassed. “Right, of course.”

“Relax,” Ed nudged him, taking the stellarscope. “I’m just fucking with you. But not really. Have you ever seen Matariki? It shows up at the start of Māori New Year, in June. They’re actually making it an official holiday this year, for the first time ever.”

They were both working to keep things light and breezy, as though they both needed to ensure that a kiss wasn’t going to upend everything else they’d found in each other. 

There were things still to explore that felt overwhelming to them both, and things still unsaid, especially by Stede, that made it all feel so delicate – like things could crumble with a single wrong word. 

So, they did what had always come easily for them: they drank and made jokes and looked at stars and pretended not to notice the way they both kept finding reasons to touch, to lean into, to graze each other.

Inside, Ed was soaring, but he kept that quiet, wanting to let Stede take the lead, set the pace; it was more complicated for him. 

But, when they ran out of brandy and had named all the stars they knew, it was Stede who used his pack as a pillow and reclined onto his back. It was Stede who tugged at Ed’s sleeve, and when Ed cautiously took that as an invitation to lay down beside him, it was Stede who shifted so Ed’s head could rest on his chest, as though they’d done it a hundred times before.

“Are you really going to stay in Queenstown?” Stede asked, fingertips finding Ed’s curls.

“What would you think if I did?” Ed asked. He held his breath.

Careful. 

Stede didn’t respond. Ed stared straight ahead, clocking the silent seconds. Lucius’ voice “ It’s worth having a conversation” floated into his head, ruining the perfect obliviousness of the last hour. Sometimes, having a conscience was awfully inconvenient.

Careful Dickfuck. 

"I reckon things are… complicated. With your family?" he fished, unable to say ‘wife.'

Stede stayed silent. Ed counted to three before he spoke again.

"Right?" 

He felt Stede's chest rise up slowly and come back down. .  

Stede stayed silent. Ed counted to three before he spoke again.

"Right?" 

He felt Stede's chest rise up slowly and come back down. . 

"No it's not that," Ed heard him say. "I've actually… I'm not going home. Back to my house, that is. So." 

Oh. 

Ed didn't know what should come next. Sorry your marriage sounds over but that's kind of excellent timing? Probably not. 

"It's good," Stede continued. "It's better this way. We both… decided." 

Ed weighed this. He had questions, and Stede wasn’t offering more. 

But, he reasoned, if he dug deeper, would everything collapse in on itself? Fear crept up from Ed’s belly at the thought, making his skin crawl. No. No no, he decided, reaching out for safety and easy. This could be enough for now. This was fine. 

“Alright,” Ed ventured again and wincing at his pathetic need for validation. “Then… I reckon I’ll stay,” Ed counted to three, “if… that’s what you want?”

What are you doing? Stop pushing things and just enjoy the fucking starry sky you idiot. 

“Yes, of course it is,” Stede said, sounding more sure than Ed had ever heard him. Then he hesitated. “Only…”

“Jesus, Stede, what is it?” Ed laughed nervously, propping himself up on an elbow and looked down at Stede. If ‘family’ wasn’t an issue, and if he wanted Ed to stay, what was he not saying?

“It’s just… well Ed, that’s not what you want.”

Ed blinked hard. 

“What?” 

“You hate it here,” Stede answered softly. “You’ve been saying that all week. You basically just said so an hour ago. I'd love if you did, but – do you really want to stay?”

Ed lowered himself back down to the comfort of Stede’s heartbeat. His brain struggled to process the baffling notion that Stede had been hearing him at all. Or that he actually gave a shit about what Ed wanted. The notion that his comfort actually mattered. He felt lightheaded, and it wasn’t the brandy.

He was in so much trouble.

As far as staying went, he couldn’t really argue the point. There were about a thousand other places around the world that didn’t constantly make him feel worthless – but none of them had Stede. 

“OK," Ed said suddenly to the sky. He sat upright. “What if I don’t stay? What if we go?”

“Go?”

“Yeah, like, fly somewhere that’s not here,” Ed started speaking quickly as he worked it out in his head.  “You’ve always wanted to travel, right? Well I know how to do that. We could, I don’t know – do it together." He paused. He laid down again, hand on Stede's chest. "Couldn't we?" 

“Where would we go?” Stede asked, his voice cautious, neutral.

Ed shrugged against Stede because it absolutely did not matter at all where they went. Somewhere beneath him, where Stede couldn’t see, he was gathering the wool blanket with his fingers into a tight fist.

“We could go anywhere, really,” he said, convincingly casual. “Wherever you want.”

"And you – you would want to go somewhere… with me?" 

Ed closed his eyes, smiling to himself. Stede really had no idea. 

"Stede," he said, into the air, into the night, "I would go just about anywhere with you."

This time, the silence that followed didn't need to be clocked, because Ed could feel how adorable Stede's expression was without even looking at him. 

“...So what would we do?" 

“Nothing,” Ed said, feeling himself fill with hope. “Anything. We could explore. We could guide, if you wanted. I get about an email a day from coach tours who need guides.” 

"You don't like coach tours."

"I'd like them if you were there." 

Just beneath Ed's spinning head, Stede’s brandied heart started racing. Ed wanted to go away with him. Ed wanted to see the world with him. Ed wanted to spend time with him, anywhere. 

Ed wanted him.

He sifted through the factors as best he could. Mary had said not to come home. But the kids. Then again, could he be with them right now, really be with them, like Mary said? Or would he have one foot out the door?

His father had stayed when he didn’t want to, Stede realized, and his childhood had been miserable. He didn't want that either. 

Maybe some distance was the best thing for everyone? After all, he remembered, his family hadn’t missed him the past week, they likely wouldn't miss him now. 

Not like Ed would. 

“Where do you think you’d want to go?” Ed ventured, breaking the silence. “If we did?”

“Would you maybe want to visit… Alaska?” 

“Why Alaska?” 

“I don’t know,” Stede mused. “Anytime I read a great adventure story growing up, it took place in Alaska. Always seemed like a kind of dream destination for that kind of thing."

“I mean, it’s beautiful, definitely.” Ed agreed. “But landscape-wise, it’s actually pretty similar to here in the summer.”

“Yes, but there are grizzly bears in Alaska.”

Ed had to sit up again.

“OK hold on, so you can pick anywhere in the world, and you’re going to choose what is essentially the South Island, but with 100% more bloodthirsty predators?”

Stede looked at him like he was missing the point. 

“Well, yes, because I've never seen one! Besides, what’s an adventure without a little bloodthirst?”

Ed snorted and returned to his place in the crook of Stede’s arm. “I think you’d feel differently if you met a grizzly in real life.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Stede said with a studied sort of machismo. “If a bear came at us, you know what I’d do?” 

“This is going to be good.”

With one arm still around Ed, Stede cocked an imaginary rifle at an imaginary grizzly. 

“I’d take a gun and look it square in the eye and then I'd say: ‘Yogi, you just made a huge boo boo.’” Stede pretended to blast the rifle, complete with over-the-top sound effects, as Ed lost it, burying his face in Stede's shoulder. 

Stede cracked up with the ridiculousness of it all too, and just like that, the winds changed, carrying them into lightness and joy. Ed sat up again and interrogated Stede’s knowledge about bears and guns, Stede pretended he knew far, far more than he did. Ed called him a lunatic.

Both became lost in the laughter and the silliness and the feeling of fitting with another person who made you feel so damn good all the time, like it was nothing, like it was the only way to be.

When they’d settled back onto the blanket again, the winds changed once more, with Stede wrapping still-shy arms around Ed, breathing him in. 

“Seriously though, we don't have to go,” Stede mumbled into his hair. “To Alaska."

"Why wouldn't I want to go?" 

"Well – because if it reminds you too much of here… I mean, would that make you happy?”

Ed wiggled free of Stede and rolled over so he was looking squarely in his eyes. He searched Stede's face for any trace of fear, or doubt and found plenty, but he knew – he knew – he could fix all that with a little time. 

“You make me happy,” Ed told him, firm, insisting and serious as a heart attack, his eyes filled with everything else he didn't know how to say. 

Stede exhaled quickly, like he thought Ed might be making fun of him. Then he took him in, his earnestness, his closeness. He reached up and touched Ed’s cheekbone with his fingertips, brushing Ed’s bottom lip with his thumb, pressing gently as though he wasn’t wholly sure either of them were really there. 

Ed shifted his weight so he could bring his own hand up to cover Stede’s, and they were together inside something again, something phenomenal and dazzling and only for them. 

“Alaska it is then,” Stede breathed.

“Alaska it is,” Ed melted back, leaning in to kiss him again before they both died of thirst. 

###

###

At some point in the quiet splendor of the night they’d fallen asleep, wrapped in blankets and each other, but it was still April in Fiordland and they were still laying on a metal deck. 

When Ed woke up it was twilight. His back snarled at him, his limbs stiff. His body was warm but his face was frozen. 

“Stede,” he whispered, pressing on his chest to wake him. 

Stede opened his eyes and, regaining his surroundings, still half-asleep, seemed to experience the same wave of pain and chill Ed just had. 

“C’mon mate, we can’t sleep here,” Ed had coaxed, battling his knee – fuck that hurts – as he climbed to his feet and pulled Stede up with him. 

They gathered the blankets and the brandy bottle into Stede’s pack and somehow made their way back to their bunk compartment without being seen. 

Not bothering to take off more than their coats and boots, Stede crawled into bed as Ed stashed the pack in the bunk above his head. 

“Hey,” Stede whispered, lifting the covers as Ed sank down onto the mattress opposite him. 

Ed raised an eyebrow. “These beds are tiny. We’re going to be squished.”

“So come and squish me then,” Stede replied, his voice thick with slumber. 

Ed climbed in beside Stede, folding against him beautifully. Stede pulled the blankets down around them and snuggled into his neck. 

The feeling of being held that way – to be really wanted and to know it, too – made Ed want to cry. 

He’d been right, that night on the beach.

This is all you need.  

Tugging Stede’s arm around him tighter, Ed closed his eyes, smiling gently into the universe until sleep came back around. 

Chapter Text

MAP: MILFORD SOUND TO QUEENSTOWN

###

STEDE TEXTING ADVENTURE CREW CHAT

Good morning all, 

I'll admit to having some very complicated feelings about the fact that it's our last day, and that when the Navigator makes landfall today, we will be headed for the airport. 

While I'm of course very sorry to say goodbye, I have no words for how grateful I am to have met you all. 

I want to thank you for your patience with me as I learned the ropes, for your good humour on the road, and most of all, for your friendship. 

I hope fortune leads us all back to the same place some day again very soon. 

Until then, 
 
“I am not the same, having seen the moon shine on the other side of the world.”
― Mary Anne Radmacher

###

###

EMAIL TO ED FROM SEBASTIEN FORD OF ALASKA TOURS

Hey Ed,

So great to hear from you!

I'll confess to being surprised that you're interested in leading another one of our coach tours, but I'm not going to question such great news.

We actually have something starting next week that we could definitely use you one. Happy to figure out something for your friend as well, as long as you're vouching for him.

Give me call when you're in town and settled and we'll get you squared away. Excited to have you back!

Talk soon,

Bash

--
Sebastien Ford Founder and Ceo Alaska tours

###

###

Pete and Lucius, who were flying out that night so they could do the jet boat ride Stede had promised, had said goodbye back at the harbour. 

Save for them, the entire crew was leaving Queenstown on the same plane to Auckland, before they caught their flights home.

"If you and the rest of your country could make it so Queensland flies international so that we don't have to connect through Auckland just to get out of here, that'd be great," John grumbled to Stede only somewhat jokingly as they all walked into the departures terminal. 

"Well now, John, that's simply not true - you can fly to Sydney from here," Stede corrected him. “Sydney is technically international.”

“Not in any way that counts–” John argued.

"Reeaally hates layovers," Frenchie said to Ed while they both walked behind John and Stede, arms crossed and watching the two go back and forth about what destinations counted as domestic versus international. "Says it's like being stuck in a time warp." 

"Yeah, well, so is arguing with Stede over a technicality," Ed replied, shaking his head. 

They made their way to the security line and stopped for final goodbyes. 

"Of course we'll keep the Adventure Crew group chat open," Stede said to everyone, half-asking, half-telling. 

“And, you know, we can grab dinner when we’re in town,” Olu assured him. “Jim and I are here all the time.”

“I’ll send you the article when it comes out,” Frenchie told him. “Then you can relive everything all over again.”

This seemed to placate Stede. 

After hugging and waving at the group until they'd disappeared through security, Ed, seeing the expression on Stede's face, bumped him softly with his shoulder. 

"They'll be back."

Stede huffed sadly. "Not soon enough." 

Ed pretended to share Stede's bereavement for about half a second more before pulling him away to buy two tickets to Anchorage. 

###

###

###

"OK, we have two hours before departure," Stede said as they stood below the ETA screen. “What do you want to do?”

Ed didn’t seem to hear. He was gazing out and away, shaking his head and grinning like he couldn’t believe his luck. 

Stede, feeling bold, reached over and slid his hand into Ed’s. 

"Ed, how do you usually pass the time?" 

Ed came back to earth.

"Oh, right, let me show you what the professionals do." 

As it turned out, professionals gorged themselves on trashy magazines and party-size bags of peanut M&M's, just like most travellers. 

And, like most travellers, Ed had a wealth of experience – and opinions – on all the ways to survive a long haul flight. 

"No to the compression socks, yes to the noise cancelling headphones," Ed said, pointing to items as they loaded up on essentials.

"Really?" Stede asked, holding up a pair of sheer compression socks. "What about varicose veins? Blood clots?" 

"All those socks do is make you think you don't need to move around on a flight, which is what actually gives you blood clots," Ed replied. 

"Now here's something that's actually helpful," he bent down to pluck something from the rack. "Inflatable neck pillow. You can control the firmness and use it for lumbar support, which is great when you enter hour ten and start having back problems." 

"Oh but I like that one," Stede said, pointing to a beanbag style pillow with a brightly coloured paisley pattern. "It's spiffy." 

"It's your back," Ed shrugged, reaching over and grabbing the paisley one for him. "Hour ten, I'll get to say I told you so." 

"Hour ten? How long is this flight exactly?" Stede asked, having left the finer details of the booking to Ed. 

"Only three…ty two hours," Ed said sketchily and wincing at Stede's face. "I know. But don't worry – I've got melatonin, a ton of HBO and pretty much every Planet Earth documentary ever made on my laptop. It'll fly by." 

Ed spread his arms out, waiting for a shower of praise from Stede, who looked confused.

“Am I going to get nothing for this pun?”

“Was that a pun?” Stede asked skeptically. “Or was it an idiom?”

Ed’s face fell. “I can’t believe I’m running away with you.”

“Oh is that what we’re doing?”

“I guess, but now I’m having second thoughts.”

Stede gasped in faux outrage. “It’s not my fault that you spent a week with both Roach and myself and still can’t figure out how to be punny.”

“You’re right, I guess an entire week of listening to you two just wasn’t enough time,” Ed quipped, eliciting a scoff from Stede. 

“Well it’s a good thing we have ten hours for me to teach you.”

“Hard pass.”

They bounced back and forth like this, paying for Stede’s in-flight essentials and continued strolling through the terminal, window shopping. It was easy, being together, like breathing, delightful. At one point Stede brushed against Ed’s hand with the one that wasn’t holding a bag, and a few of their fingers hooked around each other, both casually and with intense intentionality, holding for a few seconds before letting go and moving on to the next. 

When Stede stopped to admire a set of smart luggage – “I didn’t know they’d released a new collection!” – Ed watched him instead, trying to remember the last time he felt this happy anywhere, let alone in an airport. 

Perhaps, he thought, this was how travel was for most people. It still had boring stuff like buying headphones, M&M’s, wandering airports – but when doing it with a person you wanted to kiss and who wanted to kiss you back, it could actually be… fun? 

Ed realized this would apply to the flight as well. The thought of watching movies and eating junk food for hours with Stede, having conversations that wouldn’t be interrupted by the needs of the group, falling asleep on each other’s shoulders – and honestly, not having to spend another long-haul sandwiched between two strangers – was overwhelmingly beautiful to Ed. 

And when they finally got there – they’d sleep off the jet lag together. Wake up, make coffee and have nowhere to go. Together. Then, Ed decided, before they left Anchorage, he’d take Stede to dinner on a real date. Just because he could.

“Ed,” Stede’s hand was on his arm and he stumbled out of his reverie. “Alright there?”

Ed looked at Stede and felt a smile spread across his face that made Stede blush. He reached out and tugged at the zipper of Stede’s windbreaker. 

“Yeah, great. It’s just,” Ed took a step closer to Stede and watched with a thrill as goosebumps appear along his neck, “this is happening.” 

Stede’s eyes sparkled. "It really is." 

They wove their way through the terminal together, killing time buying coffees, loading up on snacks, stuffing their backpacks full of travel games, and picking out some in-flight reading on each other’s behalf, just for fun. 

“This one is set in Alaska,” Stede observed, presenting it to Ed. 

“Mmm, maybe not the Alaska vibe we want in this case,” Ed said, placing Into the Wild back on the shelf. “How about this?”

“ The Adventure Gap? ” Stede read. 

“Also takes place in Alaska,” Ed told him. “I did a FAM with Mills in Denali once. Nice guy.”

Stede spent a good amount of time on his choice for Ed: A Cook’s Tour, by Anthony Bourdain.

“I think you’ll like it,” he said, handing it to Ed. “The jacket says he eats a lot of weird foods, like you.”

“Weird to you maybe,” Ed scoffed, accepting the book with interest.

They lost themselves in book browsing. After a while, when Ed was engrossed in the cooking section at the far end, Stede took out his phone. 

He’d been trying to work up the courage to text Mary. He figured that whether she wanted him home or not, with a fifty-two hour flight ahead of him, he at least owed her a heads up. 

He opened his messages, and hovered his thumbs above the keyboard. 

Was there a good way to tell your wife that you’re running away to the other side of the planet with your– well, what would he say about that? What if she had follow-up questions? He still had a lot of those himself.

He put his phone back, then pulled it out again. 

###

STEDE TEXTING MARY

Stede: -typing-So I've-deleted-
Stede: -typing- I'm at the airport. I've decided to-deleted-
Stede: -typing- You're right, we can't go back to before-deleted-
Stede: -typing- I've met-deleted-
Stede: -typing- I'm flying to Alaska-deleted-

###

He stopped. There was a layover in Auckland – maybe by then he’d know what to say. 

“OK I think we should head to security,” Ed said, arriving at his side. “Dream destination awaits.”

You think I didn’t dream about being somewhere else?

Stede ignored that and tucked his phone away. “Right, let's go.”

They made their way to the line, which was exceptionally long. At its entry, Ed stopped and held out his hand with a roguish grin that betrayed how excited he actually was.  

"You ready?" 

Really ready – to be the dad they need?

Stede suddenly stopped short. Ed's hand fell to his side.

"Forget something?" 

“No, I just…” Stede chuckled. “We’re a bit mad, aren’t we? For doing this?”

“Says the mad man,” Ed joked. Then he saw Stede’s face. 

“Hey – are you OK? For real.”

Stede swallowed. He pursed his lips together, looked around them. “It’s just… a lot, I guess? All at once?”

“Woah, OK,” Ed steered Stede away from the entrance to the line so others could move past. 

“Stede, you know we don’t have to do this, right?” Ed said soberly. “We can… figure things out right here. It won’t kill me to stay."

Stede thought about this, frowning slightly. 

When Ed had counted to three in his head, he poked his foot forward, bumping Stede’s. Stede noticed this, looked at Ed, and then slowly turned his head from side to side. 

“No,” he said, reaching out and taking Ed’s hand. “No, we’re doing this. I want to do this. Really, I’m OK.”

Ed softened then, nodding knowingly. He slid his arms around Stede, comforting, ear to ear, and Stede breathed it in, the lavender and kindness and reached for that shiny new, inimitable feeling of being wanted. 

“Well as a very smart, very handsome adventure guide once told me," Ed said in a low voice, "it’s OK to not be OK.”

That’s the ticket .

Stede set his jaw and nodded into Ed’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

After that, it felt like they had found their way back inside that certain something they shared, that strange mix of nerves and daring that tingled and drew them to each other.

Each had only their pack, passport, their best friend and something else – something urgent and delicate. Waiting in line, now without distractions, they pulled up their boarding passes on their phones, made fun of each other's passport photos. Arms bumping. Fingers brushing, tentative, anticipating. Moving a few steps forward at a time. 

It was busy in the airport. A loudspeaker blared overhead. A machine beeped. Somewhere in the distance, a little girl started crying.

Ed reached out and poked Stede’s upper arm with one finger, for no other reason than he wanted attention, as well as to gauge his ease.

“Bored already?” Stede asked, playfully pained. 

“Nope. Not bored,” he said, stretching his arms above his head, feeling silly and so light. “Just can’t help myself.”

Because you can’t help yourself.

Stede forced back down whatever was rising up into his throat. "If this is pre-flight behaviour, I shudder to think what hour ten might look like." 

Ed smirked at him, though really, that didn’t feel like enough anymore. 

For Ed, just smirking at Stede was never going to be enough again, because for the first time in weeks, months – maybe ever – he was actually looking forward to the days ahead. 

He was brimming with so much: Every single moment before now, every second where he had wanted to touch Stede or hold him or kiss him or even just smell his hair, was bubbling up, a rolling boil in his chest, in his spine. It fizzed in his wrists, his jaw, the top of his head, his thighs, the tips of his fingers.

It felt like light might feel, travelling through a body, warming and illuminating every darkened place inside. 

It was all joy and sadness and laughter and being charmed and being surprised and being turned on and being scared and the wanting and adoring and Stede’s lips on Ed’s and thanking fuck and their hands and their feet touching and the stars above them and Stede holding his heart in his goddamn teeth and not having a single clue. 

Ed was so full of all of it, it was everything, sparkling up and threatening to spill over, ready to be set free. 

He had no idea where he might put it all. What else, other than his own mangled, lovesick body, could hold so much ? 

So, for now, he smirked. 

And Stede, beautiful Stede, gave a little half smile back, raising his eyebrows as though to say we're doing it!

They were doing it. They were really doing it. 

Beside him, Stede took a lovely big breath and sighed deeply, that half-smile still playing on his face, looking around the terminal. He took another big breath, in through his mouth this time, and then another. Then he stopped smiling. 

Things happened fast after that. Or maybe it was all in slow motion. 

Stede taking breath after breath, deeper and deeper, faster and faster. He said "uh" and put his hand on Ed’s shoulder and then he said “Ed” in a small, hollow voice, like it was a question, as though Ed wasn’t already very aware, and maybe in his head Stede was shouting, but it came out like a hushed and strangled breath.

He couldn't focus his eyes on anything; they were wild and afraid and seeing something far away inside, he was pale and damp and breathing like he couldn’t get enough air. Ed put his hands on Stede and said his name over and over and when Stede bent over in line and the long fast breaths became high pitched little gasps, Ed bent down to meet him, tried talking to him, tried holding his hand, tried coaching his breathing and rubbing his back and whispering "you're OK" but it was too late, it was too late. 

The Aviation Security guard checking passports said something into her radio and two more materialized and asked Stede stiffly to step out of line. Ed heard himself say “he’s having a panic attack” so then they were retracting the belt barrier and pulling Stede away to a nearby bench and people were watching it happen and Ed followed with their bags, telling Stede he was right there and that it was OK, that it was going to be OK but it was too lateitwastoolate. 

And then he was on his knees on the floor in front of Stede, who was seated between security talking into their radios, and Ed's hands were on Stede’s legs and Stede’s hands were covering his face and their heads were touching and Ed was trying to talk him through it but Stede was sobbing through his fingers onto the floor and didn't seem to be able to hear anything anymore and it was too late.

It was too late. 

Chapter Text

###

When it was over, after the storm had washed over Stede and he’d sweated and cried himself out, after the airport medics had given him water and checked his vitals and confirmed that Ed would stay with him until he was ready to go, Ed climbed up onto the bench beside Stede. 

Dazed, head pounding, knee killing from the concrete floor, Ed stared ahead across the corridor and watched as an entirely new line of people from the one they'd once stood in shuffled up to the security agent, handed her their passports, then fumbled on with their day. 

Stede, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, watched too. They gazed in silence as it kept going, this never-ending line, this mix of boredom and anxiety and excitement and chatter, of friends and family, plans and partners, all moving forward one step at a time, all heading somewhere, all with or going to someone. 

“I can’t,” Stede finally said. He croaked it out, almost like a question, his voice cracking.

Ed, his hand resting on Stede’s back, his thumb moving slowly back and forth between his shoulder blades, kept his eyes on the line. 

“I know.”

“I’m sorry,” Stede said through a strangled throat, dragging the words across razor wire and handing the mess over to Ed. 

“I know.”  

It wasn’t until after he had helped Stede order an Uber, after he’d carried his bag and walked him to the dropoff zone, that Stede finally turned to Ed, looking a little more like himself. 

“It’s not you,” he tried, so fucking earnest. “It’s–”

“Don’t, Stede,” Ed stopped him, so fucking tired. “It's OK.”

“No, but– it's not because–" Stede began, then stopped and tried again, his eyes filling with tears. “I don’t want you to think I'm afraid of being…”

Stede kept talking, but Ed couldn’t keep up. Everything, all the effervescence, all that bright and shiny light, had long drained out of him. 

Stede was hugging himself now, waiting for Ed to respond, searching his face for– what, Ed couldn’t imagine. 

The millions of tiny gossamer threads that had been collecting between them with every new day were starting to come apart, and Ed could actually feel it happening. 

Stede turned away, pretending to look for the Uber while wiping tears away with his fingers, a quick flick of his wrist. 

“If I go now,” he said, his words tumbling out into the street, “I wouldn't be running away with you. I'd just be… running. Again.” He turned back to Ed. "I can't keep…" 

Ed wanted to understand. He tried making sense of it, tried taking the words in and working at them as Stede explained, but his head was swimming. It was all just white noise. It was all just drowning and encroaching distance. Distance that told him he could not stay too, because there would be nothing there for him after this. 

The Uber pulled up. The trunk popped. 

Tears tumbled forth, mostly Stede’s, carving gleaming streams along his face and falling onto the ground between them. 

He reached out and took Ed’s hand, but Ed couldn’t bring himself to squeeze back, so Stede let it drop. 

“I’ll call you,” Stede promised. He hesitated and leaned forward a little – to kiss Ed? But then he didn't. He looked lost, unsure, searching Ed’s face for a hint of the right next step. 

But Ed didn’t have a hint. All Ed could do was watch. He watched Stede’s lips move as he said some kind of goodbye. 

He watched Stede put his bag in the trunk and climb into the backseat. He watched Stede turn his head, meet his eyes through the window, and hold his hand up in an uncertain goodbye.

Then, Ed watched Stede drive away.

Chapter Text

APRIL 10 

###

STEDE TEXTING ED 
Stede: Hi 
Stede: Checking in, how are you doing?
Stede: If you’re not up for talking, no pressure; I just want to know you’re OK
Stede: But no pressure
Stede: Even just a thumbs up
Stede: Or whatever works for you

###

APRIL 15

###

STEDE TEXTING ED
Stede: Hi
Stede: I don’t mean to be a bother, but wanted to say Lucius told me you’re in New York with Frenchie, so no need to get back to my other message. 
Stede: Unless you want to talk, in which case I'm here, anytime. 
Stede: I hope you’re well. 

###

APRIL 21

###

MARY TEXTING STEDE

Mary: What time are you picking them up?
Stede: I actually thought I’d get them right from school?
Mary: Sounds great, but back here by 7 for bed OK?
Stede: Alright if I do bedtime?
Mary: Of course

###

STEDE TEXTING ED

Stede: -typing-I’m so sorry Ed. -deleted-
Stede: -typing-I know you must be so angry. -deleted-
Stede: Hi. How are you? 
Stede: -typing-I miss you-deleted-
Stede: -typing-I’m scared that-deleted-
Stede: I think it would be good to talk.
Stede: but no pressure 
Stede: only if you want 

###

APRIL 24

###

FRENCHIE TEXTING STEDE

Frenchie: Hey Stede
Stede: Hi Frenchie!
Frenchie: Ed asked me to reach out to you
Frenchie: I know you’re worried abt him. He’s OK. Maybe just give him some time.
Stede: OK. 
Stede: Thanks Frenchie
Frenchie: For sure

###

###

APRIL 25

###

“I’m not not talking to him.”

“Right...”

Frenchie leaned against the doorframe of Ed’s room, arms crossed. He flicked the light on, illuminating the space in a harsh yellow glow. Ed rolled his eyes, closed his laptop and slid it onto the bedside table. He sat up against the headboard and stretched his legs out in front of him. 

“I’m just letting the dust settle.”

Frenchie didn’t respond.

“It’s barely been a month.”

Frenchie stared. 

“I’ll text him eventually, jesus. I just.” Ed glared at the ceiling. “Not yet.”

“Look, it’s totally fine to need more time,” Frenchie assured him. “I just wonder if you shouldn’t… at least tell him that? Yourself?”

Ed didn’t move. Frenchie crossed into the room and motioned for Ed to move over before climbing up and settling in beside him. 

“Look man, I don’t know what happened–”

“I told you what happened–”

“-- But when a friend lands on my stoop and spends a month eating flaming Cheetos and watching Planet Earth in the dark–”

“Hey, I read too.” Ed gestured to a worn copy of A Cook’s Tour that was folded open at the foot of the bed. 

“--And asks me to message our mutual friend for him–”

Ed groaned and buried his head in the pillow he’d pulled onto his lap. Lucius and Pete had been the ones to find him, standing lost on the sidewalk in the drop-off zone when they arrived at the airport from their jetboat tour. 

Lucius had suggested he change the ticket to fly with them, but it was Ed who decided he'd only go as far as New York, where it didn't matter how sad you were, because there were millions of people who were probably sadder. Plus, he knew Frenchie had a place in Brooklyn. 

“Ed, come on. I don’t need details. But whatever is going on with you two–”

Ed’s answer, spoken into the pillow, came out muffled. Frenchie, ever-patient, tugged it gently out of his arms. 

“It’s really not that big a deal,” Ed repeated. 

"So it's some kind of misunderstanding?" Frenchie clarified. 

"No, it's – It was tour fever," Ed mumbled. "That’s all.”

Frenchie kept listening. 

“You get swept up in the place and the people around you, so the rest of the world and all the non-tour parts of your life kind of… fall away,” Ed explained, reclaiming the pillow and pulling it into his chest. “And that’s what happened – with us.”

Frenchie waited.

“And then as soon as it was over, I guess– the non-tour parts came crashing back on Stede and it was too much. And I get it. I’m not mad. Well that’s not true,” Ed corrected, punching the pillow into his lap. “I am fucking mad.”

“At Stede?”

“At myself ," Ed said, swallowing hard. "Because I should have seen this coming. I knew all about his… non-tour parts and I didn’t care. I let it happen anyway. Fucking idiot.”

Ed’s face was back in the pillow again. Frenchie sighed, thinking.

“Well to be fair, you don’t really ever have ‘non-tour parts,’ do you? You mostly jump from gig to gig. So while it might’ve been ‘tour fever’ for Stede, it was kind of just… you, for you?”

Ed didn’t respond. 

“Nothing wrong with following your heart,” Frenchie ventured. Still no response.

“But,” Frenchie continued, "if you’re not mad at Stede, why are you avoiding him?”

Ed didn’t respond for a while. He finally peeked up from the pillow, not at Frenchie but staring straight ahead.

“I just need more time,” he finally answered.

“OK. That's valid," Frenchie told him. “And you know you can stay here when I'm in Greenland. Stay as long as you want."

"But Ed…" Frenchie continued, choosing his words carefully, "I just want to say… that with stuff like this – going dark on someone I mean – there’s always a point where you cross a line where, even if things work out, you can’t take back all the silence that's passed, if that makes sense. So maybe – I mean, do what you want, the fuck do I know – but maybe think about whether you really want to go there? To that point of no return?”

Ed put his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. “I don’t want to go anywhere ever again,” he said, his voice shallow.

Frenchie shifted so his arm was around Ed’s shoulders, pulling him sideways so he could rest his head on Ed’s.

“Yeah, I know man, I know.”

###

APRIL 30

###

“Can I get you anything to make you more comfortable?”

“No, no,” Stede chuckled, fidgeting and fighting against a tightening in his throat. “Sorry, I’m just uh… awfully nervous?”

Kewa nodded knowingly. “I hear that a lot, especially from first-timers.”

“Why is that, do you think?”

Kewa considered this. “Well, I suppose it can be intimidating, sitting in a space that’s just for you, with all the attention on you. That's not usually how the rest of the world works for most people. I've had clients tell me they feel pressure to perform.”

Stede frowned with recognition. Dr. Kewa smiled.

“Ring any bells?”

Stede nodded. 

“Would it help you to know that there’s literally no way you can screw this up?”

Stede let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in the form of a laugh. 

“Actually, yes.”

“Right then, does it feel OK to try again?”

“Yes.”

“So. Stede. What brings you here today?”

Kewa tilted their head to the side, gentle, waiting. Stede sighed.

Where. To. Start. 

###

MAY 2

###

EMAIL FROM STEDE TO NIGEL BADMINTON

Good morning.

Please accept this email and the attached letter as my formal resignation from Bonnet Adventures. My last day will be May 16, 2022.

Regards,

Stede

###

MAY 18

###

EMAIL TO ED FROM ASGER KøPPEN

Dear Mr. Teach,

Reaching out at the recommendation of Frenchie Fry, who I had the pleasure of speaking with yesterday while he was touring out space at Illimanaq Lodge.

Frenchie mentioned that you may be interested in taking an in-residence guiding role at a place like ours, and upon reviewing your LinkedIn, I'd very much like to speak with you further about potential opportunities at our property.

Do you have time for a Zoom in the coming days? Frenchie informed me you're currently in NY, so let me know what time would work best for you EST and my assistant will send a link through.

Very best,

Asger Køppen

###

MARY TEXTING STEDE

Mary: Alma’s asking if you’ll come to family dinner Friday
Stede: Will my parents be there?
Mary: Do you have to ask
Stede: Do I have to
Mary: Well. It’s valid that you don’t want to
Mary: But tbh it would be nice not to have to run interference all by myself. Plus, now that you’ve quit BA, I can’t say you’re working late. So they’ll wonder why you’re not here.
Stede: I gather we’re still not telling them I’ve moved out?
Mary: *We* are not because *WE* do not feel like standing in a shit storm of judgment. If YOU want to tell them though… 
Stede: fine, fine! I’ll be there. 
Mary: Yeah you will
Stede: But I’m putting the kids to bed early and then hiding upstairs until they leave
Mary: Deal.  
Stede: Could we maybe talk after?
Mary: You want to talk? You? Stede Bonnet?
Stede: Don’t want to, goodness no. 
Mary: Need to
Stede: yes

###

MAY 20

###

After dinner had finished and the kids had gone to bed, after the senior Bonnets and Allamby’s had run out of cutting remarks and departed in their town cars, Mary and Stede retreated to the backyard to deconstruct the worst parts of the evening. 

This led to talk about why they hated family dinner…

…And then about how horrible their parents could be…

...And what they would say if they knew about their situation now… 

…Which led to talk about how much they hated living so close to them…

…And how much they hated Queenstown…

…And then, eventually, after a bottle of wine, they talked about what might happen next for two people who wanted more – for their kids; for themselves.

Stede, emboldened by recent commitments made to Dr. Kewa, to his kids and to himself to be more honest, told Mary he’d never disappear again, but that he couldn’t go back to before.

That he needed to figure out who he was. The real Stede.

Mary, emboldened by recent commitments to her own therapist, her kids and herself to accept realities in synthesis with her needs, told Stede she wouldn’t ask him to stay, because she couldn’t go back to before, either.

That she wanted love. Real love. 

That she hoped he could find that, too. 

And then a look passed over Stede’s face, like a cloud obscuring an otherwise sunny day, that told Mary everything she’d been wondering for the past two months. Or maybe, from the very start. 

“What’s her name?” she asked, ready. 

“Ed. His name is Ed.”

###

MAY 22

###

STEDE TEXTING ED

Stede: Frenchie said I should give you some time so I hope it’s OK I’m doing this now
Stede: -typing- I wanted to tell you -deleted- 
Stede: -typing- I’ve come out to my family -deleted- 
Stede:-typing- I just came out and it feels really lonely -deleted- 
Stede: I’d love to catch up sometime, when you feel ready. 
Stede: -typing- I miss you -deleted- 
Stede: Hope you’re well.

###

MAY 23

###

Ed arrived in Greenland exactly five days before Frenchie's lease was up and he was headed to John's loft in Tribeca, so the new gig had worked out perfectly, timewise. 

Feelings-wise, he was not in the best shape. Maybe it was the jet lag or being abroad on a job without knowing anyone for the first time in awhile, or it could also be the gigantic scorch mark in his chest cavity where his heart used to be, but Ed was, well, not quite himself. 

Frenchie and John had seen it, in the tv binging and the unholy junk food combinations and spontaneous blanket forts in the guest room, but when he took the lodge job in Greenland, they’d hoped that meant the worst was over. 

In reality, he was just taking the worst with him to another part of the world. Because part of Ed really believed that if he could just forget all of it had ever happened, maybe he could stop feeling like such a fool. 

Maybe the sick, hot shame of wanting more from life and then actually believing he might be able to have it would eventually ebb away, and he could just be Ed Teach, jaded adventure guide, again. 

The owner of Ilimanaq Lodge, Køppen, seemed nice enough; passionate about his work and about guardianship of the landscape, and was pleased to have found someone like Ed, who could lead a kayak expedition to a glacier and had a mean orange grilled snapper recipe.

He boated Ed out to the property himself for an orientation, which included touring the area and meeting the staff, which was essentially a housekeeper, groundskeeper and the Inuit culture guide, Julie – "Jules," she'd clarified when shaking his hand – who lived nearby and ran Zodiac and culture tours for the guests. 

Ed was glad for the work; glad to be busy and to have something new to learn, but if he was being honest with himself, he could have stayed at Frenchie's watching HBO and Netflix in the dark forever. Work was an excellent distraction – but after years of never taking a break, spending a month hiding from the world inside of a laptop screen had been pretty fucking great, too.

“Jack!” Køppen called, pulling Ed back onto solid ground. A man carrying a large sack filled with something wet and imperceivable toward an a-frame stopped in his tracks and then headed toward them.

“This is Jack Rackham, our head host,” Køppen introduced the man to Ed. “He joined us about a year ago out of Wolwedans Dunes in Namibia. Between kayaking, hiking and preparing guest meals, you’ll both be spending a lot of time together.”

“Lovely,” Jack said with a smirk when he shook Ed’s hand. A strange glint in his eye gave Ed the impression he was on his best behaviour for Køppen, but there was something lurking behind his practiced manners.

“Seaweed,” Jack added, following Ed’s gaze to the sack. “Our tasting menu is full of it, so we collect it fresh every day.”

“Most of the menu is set by our Michelin chefs based in Nuuk,” Køppen told Ed. “But you’ll be recreating it here on site. It changes bi-weekly, so you’ll have to stay on your toes.”

“When you’re not on your knees,” Jack smirked, hastening to add “picking seaweed.”

###

MAY 25

###

###

STEDE'S COMPUTER

###

Chapter Text

JUNE 1

###

JACKIE JONES EMAILING STEDE

Hi Stede,

I'm writing in response to your resume.

Congratulations on your recent departure from Bonnet Adventures (saying this under the assumption that if you've resigned from your own family company, there had to be some pretty toxic shit at play -- apologies if that's not the case?)

After speaking with my team we wll feel you absolutely have something to offer Tino Tours, and I'd love to speak more with you about what that might look like, since I understand you're currently in Queenstown.

Are you available this Thurs, say 10AM?

Let me know,

Jackie

###

###

"How are things, feelings-wise?" 

Stede shrugged. Picked a bit of fluff off the arm of the chair he was in.

"No attacks since– since April," he responded. "But there's still a lot of… unease?" 

"There's been a lot of changes over the past three months," Kewa said as though remarking on the weather. 

"I suppose so." 

“Do they feel like big changes?”

"Little bit." 

Stede hadn't talked about Ed in any great detail yet. He’d delivered the broad strokes of the situation out of necessity, but found it too hard otherwise. It was much easier to focus on things he could do something about, like work, family, and where he lived. Even coming out had been a choice that he got to make for himself, something he could work through with Kewa while they listened without judgment. 

The whole thing with Ed, however, was just a gigantic question mark at this point, and the more time that went by without a word, the less it felt as though it might be something that could be fixed.

Why wouldn’t Ed just talk to him? In the wild grasp for answers and logic that usually kicked off into a mad loop around 3AM each night, Stede usually concluded that since he had been so terrible at communicating with Ed in April, he was probably getting what he deserved.

Stede suddenly became aware that Kewa was holding out a box of tissues. He accepted it gratefully.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure what we're talking about," he apologized, narrowing his mind back into the present moment and escaping into a tissue. "I blanked a bit." 

"That's totally OK Stede. I just want to reiterate: this is your space. Anything you want or need to bring into it is welcome here." 

Stede sighed.

"I wish it were like that everywhere else." 

"To have all your feelings be welcomed?" 

Stede nodded, while wondering whether it was possible to utterly love and completely hate therapy at the same time.

"OK, let's say that it was like that everywhere else," Kewa said, leaning back in their chair. “What would that life look like for you?"

###

###

JUNE 5

###

Ed was fairly certain he was pretty much basically entirely over April. 

For one, he hardly had time to think about it, between running tours, hosting guests and learning the menus sent over from the chefs in Nuuk.

Thanks to the post-Covid tourism hiring crisis, his guiding experience was in short supply; the fact that he'd never actually worked in a commercial kitchen before had been totally overlooked, thanks also in part to Frenchie's recommendation. 

Ed hadn't given it too much thought himself; he knew he could cook well, he'd done it for entire groups on tour before, so how hard could it be in a fully stocked five star kitchen? 

Turns out, it was pretty damn hard. He'd managed to pick most of the jargon and technical skills up pretty fast, but what he hadn't counted on – what no culinary institute would have been able to prepare him for anyway – was Jack. 

"BEHIND, Teach," Jack would snarl if Ed didn't hear him and mind his six in the tiny galley kitchen. 

"Jesus fucking Christ, where are the motherfucking scallops?" he'd burst out as Ed multi-tasked over the burners during the dinner rush.

"What the hell is that," he'd scrutinize Ed's potato kelp millefeuille. "That shit needs to be a perfect square, do it again." 

It should have been miserable, and for someone else it might've been. It had been a long time since Ed was anything but naturally stellar at his job, so this new feeling of being constantly found wanting was an uncomfortable one. 

But there was an urgency that came with it, a sense of focus around the challenge and a thrill with every tiny win that was extremely endearing, and Ed slid right into that.

It was the ultimate escape; exactly what he’d been hoping for. The days were so full, from guide tasks to guest needs, from kitchen duties to whatever drudgery Jack could think up that he had no interest in doing himself, that Ed hardly had space to think about anything other than getting things done, and doing them better and better each day. There was simply no time for anything else. 

And then, when he did have the time, in those quiet moments after the guests had gone, the kitchen had been scrubbed and the equipment for the next day prepped, just as thoughts of blonde hair and bright eyes and things like “so come squish me then” or "why didn't you just stay there with him you fucking idiot" started to seep into the periphery of his mind, there, always ready to jump in and distract him – was Jack.

At first, it had been unexpected, the sudden flip from demanding and dissatisfied head host into more of a smirking, smooth, almost goofy colleague, but Ed was certainly relieved when it happened, chalking it up to him having earned Jack’s approval through sheer tenacity.

It wasn't long before Jack felt less like a superior and more like a work pal, quick to crack jokes, invent stupid games at inconvenient times and make light of every situation, no matter how bleak. 

He was the kind of pal who had Ed's back; when his kayak tour didn’t meet expectations one day and an irate guest showered him in abuse, Jack had intervened and the guest had walked away, thoroughly charmed, five minutes after. Later, that same guest’s solar-powered hot water tank mysteriously conked out, and they had to shower in the staff quarters until it could be fixed.

Jack was also the kind of pal who told Ed his beard made him look "like somebody's drunk, perverted uncle" every day until he shaved it off. The kind of pal who replaced all Ed's knives with capelin one morning before disappearing on a three-hour hike with guests ("never turn your back on a bastard!"). 

He was the kind of pal who, whenever he opened his mouth, seemed to say the most unintentionally offensive things – which was probably why Jules usually found a reason to avoid him whenever she was at the lodge. 

But underneath all of that, Ed saw someone using work as an antidote for loneliness, and that made it easy to overlook Jack’s rougher qualities, because he, too, really needed a friend.

So on June 5, when Jack harangued Ed into opening two of the 2010 Château La Tonnelleone after the guests had retired, charged them to the richest guest there ("old bitch won't even notice!"), and wanted to get wasted playing drinking games in the kitchen, Ed didn’t argue.

And later, under the haze of too much wine and not enough sleep, when Ed’s new pal Jack reached past him for the bottle and paused, his face close to Ed’s, Ed didn’t pull away. And when Jack went for it, stepping closer and pressing Ed against the counter, Ed might have shivered, but he didn't tell him to stop. 
 
Jack didn’t have a wife, or kids. Jack knew exactly who he was, what he wanted, and what he was doing. Jack was exactly what Ed needed – untethered, easy to read. Uncomplicated. 

Or at least, that’s what Ed insisted to Frenchie the next time they caught up. He was struggling to compensate for the silence coming from Frenchie’s end of the line – because Ed had forgotten Frenchie had been to the lodge once, had met Jack before him, and now was desperately wishing he hadn't told him anything at all.

###

JUNE 7

###

NO GUIDES GROUP CHAT

Lucius: HOLY SHITTING FUCKING BALLS
John: The fuck? 
Olu: ?
Jim: Start typing more words
Lucius: Does anyone else get the IGLTA newsletter?
Olu: Never actually ready it, why
Lucius: Well this month, they’ve welcomed their newest fucking member

Olu: Fuck. Me.
John: That’s MY photo. No credit, wtf? 
Swede: !!!!
Lucius: OK you should both be less surprised?
Olu: I didn’t want to make assumptions!
Jim: Out loud. You didn’t want to make assumptions out loud. 
Frenchie: Curious – who didn’t know?
Swede: I didn't?
Frenchie: Anyone other than our little Nordic angel
John: I mean it was kind of hard to miss bc of all the… you know. Ed.
Lucius: This.
Pete: This.
Roach: What John said
Olu: Well good for him. Should we reach out? Since it’s in the newsletter?
Lucius: That’s a good question. He didn’t tell us, but he’s part of IGLTA now? So
Jim: I say we leave him. If he wants to share he'll share
John: Seconded
Frenchie: Makes sense to me. Maybe he’s working up to us.
Lucius: I can't believe he didn't come to me for my expertise
Roach: Expertise on what exactly
Jim: How to start a group chat with jump scare profanity
Lucius: How to make an ENTRANCE

###

JUNE 10

###

STEDE TEXTING ADVENTURE CREW

Stede: Hi all, hope you’re well!
Stede: I don’t know if anyone receives the IGLTA newsletter (don’t want to assume)
Lucius: HAPPY COMING OUT
Olu: Lucius. 
Lucius: What? HE brought it up!
Stede: So I guess you do get the newsletter then. 
John: Stede. We love you. We’re proud of you. You’re the best.
Lucius: <3
Frenchie: Love you man
Jim: <3 <3
Olu: <3 you Stede
Pete: The mostest
Roach: I'll bake you a cake next time I'm in town
Swede: Hi Stede!
Stede: Thank you all so much. I’m sorry I didn’t say so sooner, but it’s been a bit of a confusing experience 
Lucius: Understatement of the year Stede. but srsly you have nothing to be sorry for. 
Stede: Has anyone heard from Ed lately? I wanted to tell him before the newsletter came out but I think he’s in Greenland without reception

###

JUNE 11

###

FRENCHIE TEXTING ED

Frenchie: Hey
Ed: greetings
Frenchie: Have you opened Adventure Crew lately?
Ed: That’s all archived why
Frenchie: Guessing you still haven’t talked to Stede then.
Ed: Archived. Why.
Frenchie: OK well you might want to call him. 
Ed: ?
Frenchie: Or at least text him back. just for this one thing
Ed: what thing
Ed: Frenchie what thing

###

ED TEXTING STEDE

Ed: Hey. Everything OK?
Stede: Hi Ed!
Stede: everything is fine
Ed: -typing-Then why - deleted-
Ed: -typing-Fuck you scared m- deleted-
Stede: Thank you for reaching out. 
Stede: I tried getting you earlier but I know you’re off the grid for work
Ed: Yeah, I got your texts but I’ve been travelling and working a lot, sorry
Stede: You took that job in Greenland right?
Ed: Yes.
Ed: Stede What’s going on
Ed: Frenchie said I should check in
Stede: Oh, well
Stede: This actually feels weird to do over text
Ed: Should I be worried
Stede: No
Stede: It’s not a big deal
Stede: Can I call you?
Stede: Only if you want
Ed: reception’s pretty spotty here – a call probably won’t go through
Stede: np
Ed: OK what’s up
Ed: ?
Stede: Well
Stede: I just wanted you to hear it from me
Stede: I joined IGLTA
Ed: -typing- So you came out- deleted-
Ed: -typing-Does your wife know- deleted-
Ed: -typing-Congratulations- deleted-
Ed: That’s great Stede. 
Stede: I suppose. It just felt like the thing to do, put it out there
Ed: How does it feel?
Stede: Surreal
Ed: -typing-Better late than never- deleted-
Ed: Yeah. Well it’ll feel real enough when they take your membership fees. Just one of the countless perks that come with being queer. 
Ed: Don't worry, you’ll get used to the VIP treatment.
Stede: lol I can only imagine 
Stede: Are you a member?
Ed: Was. Got sick of the fees. Among other things. 
Stede: I really appreciate you 
Stede: reaching out*
Stede: it's honestly so nice to talk to you abt this 
Stede: And I'm not saying that to make you feel guilty or anything I just really wanted to tell you
Ed: -typing-It's nice to- deleted-
Ed: -typing-I’m sorry I’m such a- deleted-
Ed: -typing-I wish- deleted-
Ed: I'm happy for you. Really. 
Stede: I have something else to tell you
Ed: oh god what
Stede: I'm moving to Wellington
Ed: WHAT
Stede: :D
Ed: Holy hell, what happened
Stede: New job. Tino Tours? I move next month, start in August
Ed: I know Jackie. She’s great. She’ll be good to you.
Ed: well congrats. you're moving to the coolest city ever. What's the gig?

###

JACK TEXTING ED

Jack: Guests want coffee

###

ED TEXTING STEDE

Stede: Oh, it'll be a little bit of ops but then also guiding!
Ed: Sorry, I g2g, running the place pretty much by myself. 
Stede: OK. Can we do this again somtime?
Ed: Yeah for sure

###

JUNE 20

###

Chapter Text

JULY 5

###

###

###

STEDE TEXTING ED

Stede: Ed, you’re cooking now! 
Ed: I am cooking now. 
Stede: How are you liking it?
Ed: It’s good. Different. You? How’s Wellington?
Stede: it's great. been busy?
Stede: Running the place alone, you said
Ed: yeah it's busy
Ed: Man I can't believe you're there rn. 
Stede: I know
Ed: Been eating well?
Stede: Insanely.
Ed: Jealous. 
Stede: You're welcome anytime. 
Ed: -typing - I -  deleted-
Ed: -typing - Do you-  deleted-
Ed: Thanks mate
Ed: So where's your house?
Stede: Mt. Cook
Ed: Central neighborhood, nice
Stede: Not a *huge* fan of the name
Ed: Not a *huge* amount you can do about that
Stede: The kids will be going to Mt Cook Elementary. Maybe I'll start there. 
Ed: Ha! Good luck with that. They sound super progressive...
Stede: Well if they say no, I'll just have to break out my Sharpie!
Stede: - typing- Sorry, was that too much? - deleted-
Stede: - typing-sorry, I'm an idiot- deleted-
Stede: - typing-Maybe we should- deleted-
Stede: - typing-I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm fucking sorry- deleted-

###

JULY 15

###

ED TEXTING STEDE

Ed: - typing - Hey, sorry I went dark. I think jokes like that - deleted-
Ed: - typing - Are you up for a call?- deleted-
Ed: - typing - Hey. I hate that I - deleted-
Ed: Hey, I’ll be at the camp and service is bad, so I’m shutting my phone off so it doesn’t roam
Ed: I’ll message you when I’m back online. 
Stede: k

###

JULY 20

###

"I know that staying was the right thing, I do. But I also feel like I did it in the wrong way. And just when he came back, I’ve said the wrong thing, and everything feels worse than before.”

"So there’s a sense of a sort of blackslide taking place?" 

Stede nodded, adjusting the screen of his computer away from the glare obscuring Kewa's face. 

"And it was just so insensitive, I can’t blame him for pulling away again. I just wish he wouldn’t.” 

Kewa nodded, and Stede hugged himself on his new sofa. 

"I'm really glad you called, Stede." 

"First panic attack in months," Stede replied, giving a sarcastic little double thumbs up. 

"What's it feel like, to say that?" 

"It's… upsetting, because I think I've been doing really well with my family, life in general actually, but this one thing can't be fixed and the panic attack was a reminder of that.”

“Can you name what that one thing is?" 

Stede fought the lump in his throat.

"I'm just so bad at communicating. And that failure… it keeps hurting others. It hurt Ed." 

"I'm curious about something. You said once that Ed is pushing you away, because he needs time." 

Stede nodded, pulling the computer closer, onto his lap. 

"What are some of the words he's used in his own communication with you, when he's taken that time?" 

Stede thought about this. 

"Well I suppose he… well he mostly just goes quiet." 

“And how has he responded to you when you’ve asked to talk about what happened?”

Stede slowly raised his shoulders to his ears. 

“He… he hasn’t.”

"So. Maybe not such a stellar communicator himself," Kewa mused. 

Stede sat with this. 

"Why does it feel worse when it's me? I'm not even angry with him, but I’m furious with myself.”

"Maybe, sometimes, it's easier to be harder on ourselves than on people we care about?" 

"So what do I do about that?”

Kewa regarded him for a moment. “Well, if you’re able to be furious with yourself, I wonder whether there aren’t also ways you might be kinder to yourself, while you're working to repair things with Ed.”

Stede blinked. 

"Like self-care?" 

Kewa tilted their head from one shoulder to another; he was half-right. 

"I like to think of it more as self-compassion. Cutting yourself some slack, especially when you're really trying, like you are now. And maybe… letting Ed take on a little of that repair work, too.”

“But what if he doesn’t?”

“What if he doesn’t try to repair things?”

Stede jerked his head in the direction of a nod. Kewa gave him a kind smile.

“Rather than thinking about what might or might not happen, is it OK if I share with you what I see, in this moment?”

Stede gestured for them to continue.  Their voice became very soft.

“Stede, I see someone who wishes that some things had happened differently, and is working really hard to make them OK again. And he’s doing such a fantastic job.”

Stede swallowed hard and bowed his head.

“But I also see someone who is doing all this work… by himself.” Kewa added cautiously. “And I keep wondering what that feels like for him.”

“It’s… really hard,” Stede managed. Kewa nodded, hearing him. “It’s really hard and I don’t know how much longer I can do it alone.”

“Well I think that’s really valid Stede, because I’m not sure this is the kind of thing that really works if you’re doing it alone.”

Stede sat back, thoroughly winded.

Well fuck.

###

###

“Fuck, I forgot to pull the steaks out of the freezer,” Jack cursed, throwing his cards down onto the table. 

“Nice try,” Ed admonished. “You just have shitty cards.”

“I’m serious!” Jack insisted, his eyes giving him away completely. “If I don’t go now nobody’s getting any caribou tomorrow.”

Ed rolled his eyes and threw his cards onto the table too. “Go on then.”

“Unless you feel like going and taking them out for me?” Jack asked hopefully. 

“Do I want to put on my coat and boots, take the bear gun, and cross the camp in the dark to the lodge? Yeah, no, pass,” Ed grinned, pulling the cards together into their deck

“Well when you say it like that I really don’t want to go,” Jack said, dragging his feet to the coat rack. Then he stopped, and turned to Ed. “Hey – I’ll play you for it?” 

“Convenient, seeing as you’d get a new hand,” Ed raised an eyebrow. 

“Convenient now that you’re a smarmy piece of shit,” Jack parried back. “Come on, Teach, let's make it interesting. I win, you do the steaks. You win,” he paused and smiled slowly, taken by some inner thought, “and I… do… you."

Jack was standing over Ed now, their knees touching. Ed hesitated, so Jack leaned forward onto the arms of his chair, his breath warm on his cheek. 

“So do you wanna play?”

"Come on, Jack," Ed said, looking anywhere but at him. "I told you, that was a one-time thing." 

"You're sure I can't tempt you?" Jack pressed, staying where he was. He moved his face closer, his lips brushing Ed’s ear. "Gets awfully cold at night." 

"Yeah no shit, we're in Greenland," Ed joked, moving his chair back. "Nah, I’m – I'm good." 

Jack backed off, scowling. 

"Is there a problem, man? Is it me? Because it feels like it’s me and to be honest this is starting to hurt my fucking feelings." 

"It's not you," Ed shifted in his chair, now uncomfortable sitting there. "I'm just… not looking for anything like that right now." 

"The fuck are you talking about? I wanna blow you, not marry you." 

Ed drew in a long, steadying breath. 

"I'm…" he searched for the words. "I just think it would make things… complicated between us and I don't want that. Better to just stay friends, you know?" 

Jack made a face. 

"Jesus christ, listen to yourself," he shrugged his jacket on, shoved his feet into his boots, and grabbed the rifle by the door. "You think I give a shit about being friends? Grow the fuck up.” 

He disappeared outside then, leaving Ed, who jumped a little when Jack slammed the door. 

###

JULY 23

###

MARY TEXTING STEDE

Mary: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!
Stede: lol thanks
Mary: Did you ever think we’d be in our mid-40s?
Stede: I’m not yet 45, thank you very much
Mary: You’ll need to get used to the idea eventually. 
Stede: I’ve made a lifestyle out of avoiding unpleasant truths, so
Mary: Ha.
Mary: The kids are at day camp but they’ll call tonight. I thought we could do a proper birthday dinner when we get in next week. 
Stede: I really don’t need a fuss. How’s packing?
Mary: Much easier with them at camp, you were right. 
Stede: Well that’s the only birthday present I need. Can I be right for Christmas as well?
Mary: NOPE
Mary: happy birthday 
Mary: Do something fun. Now.
Mary: No watching Planet Earth

###

ADVENTURE CREW GROUP CHAT

Olu: HAPPY BIRTHDAY
Roach: HAPPY BIRTHDAY
Swede: HAPPY BIRTHDAY
Stede: Thank you!
Lucius: Happy birthday you old slutbag!
Stede: uh thanks lucius
Roach: I'm actually in town next week. Birthday lunch?
Stede: Yes! Anyone else in Welly and want to join us?
Jim: Yeah, definitely do NOT call it Welly if you want to continue living there
Stede: Welly’s not a thing?
Olu: Welly is not a thing. 
Stede: I’ve definitely said it a few times. 
Frenchie: And they haven’t run you out with pitchforks yet? Watch your six. 
Jim: he's not joking
Frenche: hbd by the way Stede
John: This 
Stede: Thanks!
Lucius: So how are you celebrating the big 5--0? Doing anything questionable for your first birthday as an openly and bravely gay man?
Stede: OK well I’m 44, thank you for being the worst, always. 
Lucius: tee hee
Stede: But otherwise, all above board Lucius, you know me. 
Lucius: So you’re sitting at home then. 
Stede: Incorrect, I’m at the Library
Olu: wtf. 
Lucius: omg Yay!
Pete: Nice!
Frenchie: ?
Pete: It’s a cool bar we discovered in March
Lucius: I told him to go when he moved there and he LISTENED!!! 
Stede: Yes and I look very cool indeed, texting on my phone in the corner all alone.
###

###

Stede was so engrossed in his phone that he almost didn’t notice the drink being set down in front of him by the server. 

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” Stede informed them. 

“No, but someone did,” the server replied with a wink before collecting Stede’s empty glass and disappearing again. 

Stede cautiously pulled the drink toward him and looked around The Library. He’d picked a corner table when he’d arrived, tucked out of the way but still close enough to be able to see the jazz trio at the front of the house. It was quiet for a Friday, although it was still early, and Stede had felt comfortable at first. 

Now though, with a mysterious drink in front of him, he was silently cursing Lucius for convincing him to do this in the first place. He wanted to make friends in Wellington, yes, but there seemed to be rules here and it felt overwhelming.

Stede was texting Lucius to ask for insight on being given a drink by a faceless stranger when a voice asked:

“Did I get it wrong?” 

Stede looked up. Standing at his elbow was a man, perhaps a little younger than himself, in a brightly coloured ensemble Stede immediately appreciated. 

“You looked like a sex on the beach guy but now I’m thinking I might’ve been presumptuous.”

He smiled, and Stede felt at ease. He seemed confident, kind. His eyes, Stede silently noted, were very brown.

“Oh, I think you knew exactly what you were doing,” Stede said, immediately wanting to vomit all over himself at the shock of how smooth that sounded. He made a mental note to tell Lucius about it, although he would probably never believe him. 

“Well in that case,” Brown Eyes tilted his head toward the booth. “Can I sit?”

Stede focused every ounce of energy he had not to squirm. 

“I… don’t see why not,” he said quietly, gesturing with an open palm. 

###

ED TEXTING STEDE

Ed: Happy birthday Stede

Chapter Text

AUGUST 1

###

STEDE'S CALENDAR

###

AUGUST 5

###

\

###

STEDE TEXTING ED

Stede: Sorry for being so late with this, it’s been a busy week
Stede: Thank you for the bd wishes. How are you?

###

Ed wasn't great. 

Standing on the beach, wiping down the kayaks after a glacier tour, he was wallowing a bit in the misery of it being the 5th of the month, of Jack being especially awful to be around these days, of missing home and also never wanting to go back, of not knowing what to say to Stede and worrying it was too late anyway, of knowing that escaping to the other side of the world hadn't worked at all because he absolutely hadn’t been able to forget a goddamn thing. 

He was so absorbed in these thoughts, he didn't hear the crunching of rock beneath Jules' feet as she approached. 

"Oh," she backed up a bit when he quickly turned. "Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up." 

"You didn't, I'm just out of it," Ed smiled apologetically. He tossed the rag down onto a kayak and straightened up. "How's it going?" 

Jules shrugged, shoving her hands into her pocket. 

"Alright I guess. I just brought the guests back from Tinit." Her voice, while casual, had an edge to it, an invitation that Ed recognized immediately. 

"How did that go?" he asked, remembering the last time Jules took guests on a day trip to her home village, which was part of the advertised excursion at the lodge, but by far her favourite experience. 

Ed had done the trip, as part of his orientation, and had been stirred by how personal she was with everyone, how candidly she spoke about colonization, the ways the Inuit were being threatened by climate change, and how fiercely proud she was of her culture. 

Aside from the last tour, he rarely felt safe enough to be that honest with guests, but Jules didn’t fuck around.

"Not bad this time really," she shrugged. "Actually they were so nice, I took them to my house for tea. But… then we had this whole talk about tradition versus tourism, and someone said tourism’ll be the thing that saves the Inuit. It was…" 

"Demoralizing?" Ed finished for her. "Depressing?" 

"Devastating," she replied, kicking a rock at her feet, working her jaw through clenched teeth.

"It's like that where I'm from too," was all Ed could think to say. "That idea. That tourism is all we have left." 

"The save none of us asked for." 

"Just what the ancestors would have wanted for us."

They stood for a moment, swallowed in their own share, smoldering awareness. Then Jules noticed Ed staring at her. 

“What?”

"Do you ever just think about leaving? I mean you could guide anywhere you want." 

"Why would I do that?" Jules half-smiled like Ed was telling a joke.

"I mean, it's kind of nice sometimes, not being constantly reminded of how bad things are for your land or your people." 

"So… by leading tours somewhere else – on someone else’s land,” Jules huffed a laugh at the thought, “I would be able to forget about what’s happening here?”

Ed shrugged. “Works for me.”

Jules squinted at him, skeptical. “Does it?”

Ed looked away. They were quiet for a moment. Then Jules picked up a rock and threw it into the water. 

“Is that why you’re here? Things got too heavy at home?”

There were two opposing parts battling inside Ed; the part that preferred to keep things private because private = safe and he’d only known Jules a few months – and the part of him that hated not having anyone to talk to anymore, and knew it was his own fault.

“I guess you could say that,” he replied, deciding to flirt with the latter part and see how it felt. He picked up his own rock. “It’s hard to be there in general – but then it was just too much.”

He hurled his rock into the water too. It broke the surface of the cove, which was still around this time of day, save for the whales that occasionally breached through, flying like birds before crashing back into the sea.

“What was too much?” Jules was trying to pick up as many rocks as possible now before standing up again. 

Ed lost his nerve. “Oh, you know. I just had to get out of there.”

Jules whipped off a series of stones into the ocean like she was pitching an inning. 

“It must have been pretty bad to send you running to the other side of the planet.” 

Ed rubbed his thumb over a smooth rock the size of an orange. 

“Uh, yeah. It… it wasn’t great.” 

“Oh for fuck sake” Jules, now rock-free, turned to him with her hands on her hips. Ed dropped the rock. 

“This might surprise you Ed, but throwing rocks into the ocean isn’t something I just do,” she said evenly. “But you had this whole broody, heavy, sad-boy-cleaning-kayaks-alone thing going on down here, so I came over, because you’re cool and not the worst.”

“Now, you kind of seem like you want to talk,” she continued, moving her head to maintain eye contact with Ed, who was trying to evade her, “but you’re also not saying anything at all, just a bunch of bullshit, so get whatever it is you have to say off your chest because I’ve got shit to do.”

Ed stared at her, his mind racing to process all the things that had just been spoken at him. 

“You think I’m cool?” he joked. Jules gave a frustrated snarl and punched him on the arm. 

“Let me be here for you, idiot!” she scolded him. Ed tilted his head up to the sky, rubbing his arm. 

Earlier that season, the lodge had done a polar dip for the guests, and Ed had gone in too. Before he ran in, Jack, in the spirit of fucking with him, told him exactly how cold it was. 

Ed had had to shove every feeling he had about that level of cold into a mental box so he didn’t chicken out, because he was already standing on the beach. 

And it had been cold as hell – like, knives stabbing your skin, brain panicking like it’s on fire, kind of cold – but he’d do it again in a heartbeat – as long as he had the box.

“Fuck. Fine.” 

Without looking at Jules, he took a huge breath.

“There was this guide. And he had a wife and kids and he wasn’t out yet but he was just so… and I could tell he liked me too because of the lighthouse and Aoraki and I kissed him on a boat because he did my Sharpie thing to make me feel better and then he kissed me back and we decided to run to Alaska and kind of ignored the whole wife and kids thing and then he had a breakdown at the airport and left me in the drop off zone,” Ed gasped, “and we haven’t talked about it because I’ve been ignoring him for months and I think I crossed Frenchie’s line of silence but I feel so stupid because it was a stupid idea and I should have known better but I just wanted to be with him so badly and now I’m here because I thought if I got far enough away I could forget about it and it would be like nothing ever happened and I fucking fucked Jack and every time I do talk to Stede I feel like I’m in literal danger and everything hurts and I don’t know what he’s thinking but maybe I love him so fuck me, I guess?"

Ed was panting. Jules didn’t look surprised at all. 

“Feel better?”

Ed burst into tears. 

“Oh, jesus,” she said in disbelief, pulling him into a hug. “How long has that been in there? You can not do that to yourself, Ed. Pushing that shit down doesn’t make it disappear, it’s like trash in the ocean. Pollutes everything around it and then floats right back up to the top.”

Jules, whom Ed didn’t know well, but did know she had three dogs, hated embroidery but loved hunting seal with her dad, had a weird thing for glaciers and swam in the ocean loads– probably without a box, too – held him until the searing pain in his chest eased. After an appropriate amount of time had passed, she pulled back slightly, still holding Ed by the shoulders, and looked gravely in his eyes.

“You fucked Jack?

###

AUGUST 15

###

###

###

AUGUST 23

###

ED TEXTING STEDE

Ed: Hey, hows the new job?
Ed: - typing - Do you remember -deleted-
Ed: - typing -I'd love to talk to you -deleted-
Ed: - typing - I really fucking miss you Stede and -deleted-
Ed: Are you around at all this week?

###

###

AUGUST 30

###

STEDE TEXTING ED

Stede: Sorry I missed this - I was camping
Ed: By yourself? You?
Stede: Ha. With my kids
Ed: jk I saw on IG
Stede: What's up Ed?
Ed: Oh, not much
Stede: - typing - Then why - deleted-
Stede: - typing - you know, I - deleted-

Chapter Text

SEPTEMBER 1

###

###

"I'm already going to be there Stede, it doesn't make sense to register us both." 

Jackie was running out of patience with him, his highly tuned annoy-o-meter could tell, and Stede knew he only had one or two rebuttals left before the conversation would be over. 

If he wanted to spend five days catching up with the adventure crew, going on day FAMs and fancy dinners and summit parties with all his friends, he needed to stick the landing. 

"Yes, but you're going as a keynote speaker," he argued. "You're not going to want to step down off the mainstage and pop back into the booth on the conference room floor, you'll be too busy rubbing elbows!" 

Jackie narrowed her eyes at Stede over her desk.

"The ATS isn't the Oscars, Stede. The booth is why we're going in the first place. The keynote thing was an add-on. And I can rub elbows just fine from there." 

"Yes but your registration is free because of the keynote thing," he pushed, hoping his smile masked his lack of confidence. "So you'd essentially be having two Tino representatives there for the price of one."

Sensing traction with this fact, Stede pressed on. 

"I just think since I'm new in town and new to Tino, it would be good to have me there as well, to get to know our partners better, put faces to names." 

This time, Jackie didn't respond right away. Stede went in for the kill. 

"You said yourself when I started you're wanting to get away from the business side of things and back into guiding again. This is how we make that happen faster."

That seemed to do it. Jackie gave a half nod. 

"Alright – fine. It's not the worst idea. But watch your expenses," she warned. "Jackie's got enough overhead as it is." 

"I won't even stay at the hotel," Stede assured her, hand over heart and grinning like the cat that got the canary. "I can walk there from my house." 

###

ADVENTURE CREW CHAT

Stede: SHE SAID YES!!!
Roach: omg YES
Olu: AMAZING
Lucius: This is going to be such a glorious dumpster fire of a time
Jim: Frenchie are you and John coming
Frenchie: John pulled strings. we'll be there.
Jim: Nice
Stede: Excellent! I'll be hosting a gathering at mine one of the nights, natrurally
Roach: Party at Stede's!
Olu: LEGEND

###

###

SEPTEMBER 15

###

###

###

FRENCHIE TEXTING ED

Frenchie: Article’s out
Ed: I saw
Frenchie: Refreshing the page were we
Ed: Fishing for praise, were we
Frenchie: What’d you think
Ed: Really great Frenchie. I’d forgotten what a great trip it was. 
Frenchie: thanks. Did you talk to Amelia at ATS?
Ed: Yeah can you stop giving people my email
Frenchie: You mean can I stop using my incredible influence to put opportunities in your lap
Ed: Yeah that
Frenchie: ATS would be great for you. you’d meet so many lodge owners looking for superstars, and get to show off
Ed: sorry, what about me screams “loves to show off”
Frenchie: It’s there. It’s just deep down
Ed: ATS is fucking dumb
Frenchie: Deep, deep down
Ed: it's a conference. Conferences are against my religion 
Frenchie: Do what you want Ed, I’m not your mom. But it never hurts to network. Plus, they’ll cover the flight, do the hotel thing, all of it. All because my article made you so cool. 
Ed: I was already cool
Frenchie: See? show off. Look, I also miss you, and I want to hang out. OK?
Frenchie: I don’t know if this is going to help or hurt my case, but the whole crew is coming, so it's going to be a sloppy fun time.
Ed: - typing-  the whole crew? - deleted - 
Ed: Well I do like slop Frenchie:
YES. call Amelia back right now
Ed: Have you always been this annoying
Frenchie: You love me and you know you love me and I love you too and also, you're welcome.

###

###

STEDE TEXTING FRENCHIE

Stede: Amazing article! I feel like I’m famous now!
Frenchie: Thanks man. Glad you liked it.
Stede: I'm going to have to wear sunglasses in the grocery store now so I don't get mobbed! Please maam, I'm just shopping for my dragon fruit, same as you.
Frenchie: Haha
Stede: What did Ed think
Frenchie: He was very Ed about it. 
Stede: Frenchie at this point that could mean anything 
Frenchie: Fair. He loved it, just didn't show it. 
Stede: Then how could you know?
Frenchie: Oh you know
Stede: I really don't. 

###

SEPTEMBER 22

###

###

MARY TEXTING STEDE

Mary: Hey, I know you had them last weekend, but do you mind taking them this Friday and Saturday? My next Art show is Sat but set up is actually Fri
Stede: Of course, no problem. 
Stede: What if we come to see the show Sat?
Mary: Do you think they’d like that?
Stede: I think seeing that your passions go beyond driving them everywhere can only be a good thing for them
Stede: And just in case, I’ll tell them we can get ice cream after. Collateral for art appreciation
Mary: haha 
Mary: OK, can you get them from school Fri?
Stede: Yep and I'll do the carpool for Alma's soccer
Mary: That's right, I totally forgot bc of this stupid show
Stede: It's going to be great. 
Mary: thanks stede :) 

Chapter Text

OCTOBER 5

###

It had been six months, to the day. 

Six months since Stede had dragged Ed up to a secret place, and showed Ed that he really saw him, on purpose, and that he liked him all the same.

Six months since Stede kissed him back under the stars, since they’d cuddled under a pile of blankets he’d stolen and joked about grizzly bears.

It had been six months since Ed had looked at Stede, and felt like he was home. 

The time that had passed since then had been weird, and hard. This 5th of the month felt significant because six months was a long time for most things. And this thing… well. 

For six months, Ed had tried running, ignoring, avoiding, and trying not to care, but numbness wasn't the same as not caring, and he knew that now.  

###

It had been six months, to the day.

Six months since Ed had touched Stede’s leg under the table, since he’d kissed Stede on that boat, since he’d asked Stede to go with him, anywhere. 

Today, six months ago, Ed had awoken something in Stede that he knew would never be able to lie quiet again. 

Six months ago to the day, Stede had fallen hard for Ed Teach and had agreed to run away from the rest of his life – from his kids – to be with him. 

And then tomorrow, it would be six months since Stede had collapsed in on himself like a dying star, six months since he’d left Ed standing alone at the airport, since he’d almost blown up everything but stayed instead to mend it, determined to do better, to be better, and to be ready, should he ever, ever get another chance. 

Tomorrow, it would be six months since Stede realized that he couldn’t just keep running – but that he didn’t need to be stuck anymore, either. 

###

"I do not know what to say Edward, other than I am very impressed," Køppen said, gesturing at the meal before him. 

It was the end of year review, and Køppen had arrived to spend time with the last guest rotation, see how the tours and meals were being received, and make plans for next summer – including renewing contracts. 

"Yeah, we're a great team,” Jack said, throwing an arm around Ed’s shoulder. 

"The guests are raving about you, the food here speaks for itself, and Jules – well Jules has been working with the Lodge since she was eighteen, ever since it was just one little building, and I have never heard her say anything good about anyone, so that is quite the endorsement!”

Ed smiled, bowing his head, unsure of what to say. 

"Jack, would you please excuse us for a moment," Køppen asked. Jack didn't bother to hide his resentment as he disappeared into the kitchen and started clattering around in the back.

"Ed. Join me?" 

Ed sank into the chair opposite Køppen. 

"I wanted to say I hope you will return to Illinabaq next summer," he told Ed. "But I'd also like to ask if you would be interested in taking a winter contract, in Denmark? We are in the process of developing a new lodge there, and I would love to have your input.”

"On the tours?" Ed asked. “I’ve only really been to Denmark a few times.”

"On all of it," Køppen explained. “You and I would design the entire guest experience, tours, leisure, menu, everything.”

Ed considered this. Then he tilted his chin up. 

“If I were to ever do that, I would want my sole focus to be food,” he told Køppen. “I’ve been doing tours a long time, and part of why I came here was for a change. I’d want to keep pursuing that.”

This was clearly a departure from what Køppen had in mind, but he bounced back quickly.

“I had not realized that,” he said. “Well, of course this changes nothing. If food is where your interest lies, perhaps we could explore combining food and experiences. Foraging, fishing, you know? One thing I did have in mind, if you were coming on board, would be to offer a menu replete in soups and reductions. I have heard sauces are your specialty.”

Ed stared down at his hands a moment. He was not stranger to receiving good job offers, but Køppen’s mentions of sauces had caused his skin to prickle. 

Well I'd love to try them sometime. 

When Ed looked up again, he tried to look remorseful.

"Asger, I really appreciate you taking a chance on me this May. I've learned a lot.”

"I am sensing there's a 'but' coming that will disappoint me very much." 

Ed twisted his mouth into a smile of admission. 

"I have to go home. I’ve agreed to speak at this conference.”

“Well we would fly you back after, of course.”

“That’s not the only reason I need to get back there. And I think… when I do, I’m going to stay.”

Køppen reached across the table, laying a hand in front of Ed so he would look up at him. 

"We will be here if you ever do change your mind.”

“Thanks,” Ed said. “Really. And I need to say Asger: You should really be working with Inuit chefs. The food here… it would be so much better – more meaningful – made by the original people of the land.”

Køppen nodded, though Ed was unable to tell whether the suggestion had landed or not. 

“Well while we're on the subject," he leaned toward Ed with a pained expression. "Do you know any guides who might be a good fit here next summer? Because according to the surveys… the guests really seem to despise Mr. Rackham."

###

Stede knew he’d done the right thing, big picture-wise. But even six months and all that therapy later, Stede still found himself wondering, often late into the night, what might’ve happened if he'd had the right tools, at the time, to find a middle ground between staying with Ed and staying with  his family. 

Although there were some things he’d wished were extremely different about that day six months ago, Stede also treasured it, because it was the day everything had changed for him. 

Because of that day, Stede had so many good things going for himself now that he could sometimes almost forget how it felt when Ed’s fingers had laced themselves into his hair, how he’d been awash in lavender when Ed’s lips found his, or the way Ed’s eyes had sparkled buying tickets at the airport. 

It was much, much harder, though, to forget the look on Ed's face when Stede had left in that cab, the weeks of silence that had followed, and the spectacular, searing pain that plagued his hideous, mangled pulp of a heart.

“Buy me a drink?”

Stede was startled out of the depths of his gin and tonic, and whirled around to greet the voice. 

It was Brown Eyes, from Stede’s birthday, who did have a first name, but after all the Sex on the Beaches they’d drank, Stede had forgotten it completely and was too embarassed to ask again.

“Certainly,” Stede replied, moving his blazer off of the bar stool so Brown Eyes could sit down. “What’s your poison?”

“You tell me,” he posed for Stede, ready to be perceived. “I guessed you were a sweet, fruity cocktail guy not too long ago – now it’s your turn.”

Stede squinted at him, surveyed him, scrutinized the man in front of him. He pointed at him with a realization, but only with a certain measure of confidence. 

“Old… fashioned?”

“Oof,” Brown Eyes answered with a grimace, hand to an invisible chest wound. “Ouch.”

“No good?”

“Not even close I’m afraid. But I like you, so I’ll give you another shot.” 

###

Ed set his phone down and looked up at Jules. 

"Well?" she demanded. 

Ed didn’t answer. She grabbed his hand and tilted the phone toward her. 

“You haven’t sent it!” 

Ed launched himself off his bed and paced the hooked rug in the middle of his cabin. 

“I thought the whole point of all this was to stop avoiding things,” Jules pointed out, flopping down on the bed and looking unimpressed.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Ed argued. “I’m going to do it.”

Jules scoffed a laugh. “Ed. What are you afraid of?”

“Is that a serious question?”

Jules threw her hands up, impatient for an explanation. 

“I’ve already said yes to the conference, I’ve booked the flight, I’ve turned down the job,” he told her. “So what if he doesn’t…? Then I have to go and see his face knowing he doesn't–”

Jules made a face that seemed so uncharacteristically sympathetic Ed had to look away.

“Look, I get it,” she said. “Rejection sucks. But you just did all that other shit so you could go there and see his face. This is the last step, Ed, but it’s kind of an important one.”

"It’s not that I don’t want to," Ed said. "It's that my chest feels like it's full of sand. Some real fight or flight shit happening here." 

Jules wasn't buying it. “Aren’t men your age supposed to have more confidence than this because of, you know, all the life you’ve lived?”

“That’s ageist, patriarchal bullshit and you know it,” Ed said, still pacing.

“Look, if you’re not ready, you’re not ready, but I really think you should just rip off this bandaid.”

Ed stepped toward Jules and handed her the phone. 

“Ed…” she groaned in a tired voice, knowing exactly what he wanted.

“This is me ripping off the bandaid,” he told her. 

Shaking her head, Jules took the phone, swiped at it, then tapped away with her thumbs for a few moments. She held it up for Ed’s approval. He scanned the screen, then gave a solemn nod. 

A bright, swooshing sound told Ed it was done. 

“You’re a coward,” she said affectionately, handing the phone back. Ed took it. 

“I know it.” 

###

It was a great way to ring in a six-month anniversary, drinking oneself under a table – or bar, as it were.

There may have been some shots. There may have been some singing, at one cringeworthy part of the night. There may have been a hand on Stede’s knee at some point, and there was definitely a moment where a pair of lips had gone from whispering something in his ear to trailing down his jaw and lingering on their match.

And if he were being honest with himself, he hadn’t hated any of it.

No, Stede thought as he gazed out the window of the Uber that had greeted him and Brown Eyes outside the bar a few minutes ago, he didn't hate being wanted and knowing he was wanted. And maybe Mary and Lucius, without either of them really knowing the whole story, were probably right: he had so much going for him now, maybe it was time to move on. 

It was dark in the car, and the quiet lulled at him, but his boozy haze of a brain was determined to stay awake. The night was not yet over. 

###

Every other 5th of the month before this one, Ed had blazed through his day, prepping or touring or repairing or planning or drinking or joking with Jack or kayaking with Jules. 

He’d gotten so great at keeping his mind off of the date and everything it reminded him of, avoiding it in the way others avoid walking on ice, or touching an open flame. 

But then night would come, and Ed would run out of things to do, and he’d climb under his covers and close his eyes and then, promising that this time would be the last time, he’d let himself pretend April 6th had never happened. 

That he and Stede just stayed on that ship that night forever, curled up at the base of that mast under wool comforters and a blanket of stars. 

That time had stopped, and they’d never moved forward.

That time had just stopped. That they were still there. 

###

“Thank you,” Stede bid the driver goodnight when they arrived at his destination. He stepped out and steadied himself as the briney salt air hit him, as his ears filled with the surging sound of water against a seawall, as his eyes fell upon the only place he could have ever ended up at that night.  

He braved the treacherous walk across the narrow cement path, being extra careful not to slip in his compromised state. He reached the end of it and rested his hand against the familiar cool of the checkered structure, looking up at the blinding light going round and round above. 

And when Stede leaned over to the spot where his mind had been fixated all night, the sight of his and Ed’s names tied together with a "+" made it so six months, a new life, and that weird fucking message from Ed had never happened. 

That time hadn't passed, because they were still there.

Chapter Text

OCTOBER 20

###

The end of the season seemed to arrive suddenly, but not soon enough for Ed, who was very ready to leave Greenland behind. 

When Jack had found out Ed had elected not to renew his contract, he'd thrown a tantrum, which had surprised Ed, since they barely spoke anymore. 

"I mean it makes sense," Jack crowed on Ed’s last day. It was nearing dinnertime. Jules had brought by seal meat for the final night meal, which always featured traditional Greenlandic cuisine, and was watching them clean it in the kitchen. 

"This place isn't for everyone. I just never pegged you for a quitter."

"Is that what you're doing Ed?" Jules asked in horror, with a cryptic tinge in her voice she usually employed when pretending to take Jack seriously. "Are you quitting Greenland?" 

"Yeah I just couldn't hack it," Ed answered dryly, slicing the meat into minute cubes for tartare. "I've never spent this much time indoors and it's really starting to freak me out."

"Fuck, seal meat is disgusting," Jack exclaimed, throwing his knife down and gagging. "I don't know how you people eat this, it just tastes like blood. Though, I guess it's good for shock value because the guests pay extra to try it." 

"I will say, it's too bad we're losing you," Jules said, glaring at Jack then turning to Ed again. "Greenland could use more guides who actually give a shit.”

"Fuck is that supposed to mean?" Jack demanded. 

“Aw, don’t feel bad Jack,” Ed quipped, glancing at Jules with a spark in his eye. “Every exotic destination needs the white man too."

"Oh yeah," Jules added with faux gravity. "Otherwise, who would let us know which of our traditions are uncivilized and which ones have touristic value?”
 
“Well someone has to do it,” Jack sneered. 

Jules jumped down off the counter swiftly, as though toward Jack, and he sped for the door, swiping a bottle of something brown on his way out. 

Wide eyed, Jules held up her hands and made a strangling motion at Ed before picking up Jack's disgarded knife to help. 

“Don’t worry,” Ed said in a low voice. “He’s leaving this summer and he’s never coming back.”

“Promise?” Jules asked. 

“I made sure.” 

They worked quietly for a few moments. 

"I really am going to miss you," Jules admitted. "I can’t say how nice it was to work with another Indigenous guide. Now I'll have to go back to internalizing microaggressions on my own." 

“Sorry about that,” Ed said with a half smile. “I'll miss you too. You've a great person Jules, really. I wish I could be more like you.”

“Bossy and scary?” Jules chirped. 

“Smart and proud,” he replied, serious. “You know who you are and you don’t take any shit. Back home, we call it ‘mana wahine.’” 

Jules, fixated on the seal meat, pressed her lips together as if to prevent a smile, but it snuck through at the edges. 

“No one’s going to miss you more than Jack, you know. He’ll have to do all the work around here by himself again.”

“I know,” Ed said, shaking his head sadly, wiping his hands on a towel. “And I just don’t know how he's going to manage without…” he dipped an arm beneath the counter and pulled out a gorgeous leather knife roll, “...these."

Jules’ eyes widened. “You’re taking them?”

“Steal a chef’s knives? No, I’m not a monster,” Ed scolded her. “I am going to fill the roll with seal fat and hide his knives in the freezer. He’ll find them. Eventually.”

It would perhaps, oddly, be the fondest memory of his time in Greenland, standing and giggling with Jules in the kitchen, stuffing fatty bits of seal meat into Jack’s dark leather knife roll, tucking the bundle back where it belonged and stashing the knives in a bin inside the deep freeze.

Afterward, with a few minutes to spare before dinner and the guests all enjoying happy hour in the lodge bar, Ed and Jules drank goodbye beers on the back steps of the kitchen, watching the glaciers in the cove drift lazily across the water, dark and mighty against the setting sun. 

“So. Ever get a response from your guy?” Jules asked, leaning back on her elbows to take in the view. 

Ed fished his phone out of his pocket and held it up for her. 

###

ED TEXT TO STEDE
Ed: Hey. So I've been an idiot with zero emotional intelligence al summer. 

I'm really sorry for what that meant for you. You didn't deserve it. 

I have so much I want to say to you Stede, so I'm coming to ATS and I hope you'll let me say it in person -- although I understand if you can't. 

Know that I miss you though. I've missed you every day. 

See you Oct 25. 

Stede: OK. Travel Safe. 

###

Jules gaped from the phone to Ed like she’d never seen anything so stupid in her life. 

“God, you idiots are meant for each other.”

Suddenly, a scream cut across the cove, echoing off the floes. 

“HELP!” 

Ed and Jules sat up and looked around, but couldn’t tell where it had come from. 

“SOMEONE FUCKING HELP ME FOR FUCK SAKE!”

“Is that – Jack?” Ed asked as they got to their feet. 

“It’s coming from–,” Jules hurried down the stairs to check around the corner, and froze in her tracks. 

“Ed,” she called, not taking her eyes off whatever she was staring at. 

Ed followed her and stopped short. 

"Fuuuuck,” he groaned.

There, stranded on the roof of Cabin 4, swinging his belt like a weapon at an enormous polar bear and, for some reason that was yet unclear, pantless, was Jack. The polar bear, measuring at around 8 feet tall, was on its hind legs, clearly in pursuit of its next meal, but was uncertain about the roof, which was steep and strange to it. 

When it took a belt buckle to the nose, the bear was momentarily deterred by Jack, and redirected its attention toward testing the structural integrity of the patio furniture, then happily nosed at Jack’s pants, which were in a heap on the patio, tearing at them like tissue paper. 

“I guess–” Ed said.

“We should probably…” Jules said at the same time. 

“WHAT THE FUCK YOU ASSHOLES HELP ME,” Jack screamed when he saw them staring. He was holding onto the roof’s solar panel with one hand, gripping his belt with the other, still trying to scramble up the length of the roof.

“Hold on,” Ed mouthed to him while holding up a finger so as not to attract the bear. He and Jules backed away behind the lodge again. 

“I’m going to do a head count, make sure all the guests are inside,” she said as they went back into the kitchen. 

“Yeah, do a call-out on the radio for staff too, tell everyone to find shelter and sit tight,” Ed said, mentally scanning the lodge's polar bear protocol. He opened the locker by the door to the kitchen and pulled out a rifle, checking to see if it was loaded.

“You’re not gonna –?” Jules asked, her voice uncertain. “I mean – it is Jack…”

Ed scoffed at her. “Fuck, no. I’ll just use a bear banger or something.”

He rummaged around in the locker for a moment. “What the–” he turned to Jules. “Are there no rubber bullets?” 

Jules’ face told him everything he needed to know. Of course Jack would think blanks were for “hippies.”

Frustrated, Ed slammed the locker door shut. “OK, I’ll try to distract it or scare it enough to get that idiot inside.”

“OK be careful – they don’t bite people, Ed. They eat them.” Jules advised before disappearing toward the lodge bar, calling out a code white on the radio. 

Ed stood alone in the kitchen for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to not have to use the gun. Then he had an idea. 

It was getting dark fast, and Jack had lost the belt to the polar bear by the time Ed re-emerged from the lodge. While he had made it to the top of the cabin and was perched on the solar panel, no longer in danger of sliding down, the polar bear had also regained its confidence and was slowly making its way up the roof toward him. 

To the untrained eye, it looked like it was merely curious, but being the height of summer, it was likely hungry. Its head low and its movements steady, Ed could see it meant business. 

“Ed, thank god,” Jack half-sobbed when he saw Ed round the corner. “Shoot it! Fucking shoot it!”

Ed ignored him and crept his way to Cabin 3, closest to the Lodge and roughly thirty feet from where Jack was standing. 

Slinging the rifle over his back, he clambered up the roof so he was atop the cabin, across from Jack and looking down at the bear. 

“What the fuck are you waiting for, SHOOT IT!” Jack screamed. The bear was stalking him, intently silent and making real headway. Jack backed up to the very top. 

“ED!” He bellowed. “I swear to christ, if you don't shoot the fucking bear–” 

“Shut up,” Ed ordered him in a low, calm voice. “Listen. When I give the signal, slide down the other side of the solar panel and make a run for the lodge,” he instructed, pulling something damp out of his jacket. “But don’t go until I tell you.” 

“What are you doing, what is that?” Jack demanded, squinting at Ed over the top of the bear, which was now halfway to Jack, unnervingly slow and calm for the amount of weight and power it carried.

“Is that –” Jack’s jaw dropped. “Is that my fucking knife roll?” 

Ed smirked despite himself as he lowered the gun to the roof, looping the strap around his ankle so it wouldn’t slide down. Then, he gripped the leather knife roll, stuffed to bursting and soaking through with seal trimmings, with both hands, ready to throw.

“When I say go,” he told Jack, “Fucking quietly, Jack. Ready?”

Jack nodded, scrambled to the other side of the solar panel, and waited.

Ed lifted the knife roll above his head, aimed, and hurled it hard at the polar bear. 

It connected with its head with a dull thud, hard enough that the bear lost its footing and tumbled, clumsy and massive, down the roof slope and back to the patio. It got to its feet immediately and went in search of its attacker, locating the roll, which had followed it down the roof, and tearing into it like it was a marshmallow. 

Ed reached down to retrieve the gun at his feet, fixed it at the bear, then motioned silently for Jack to go. 

Jack’s pantless slide down the roof seemed significantly uncomfortable, but he made it easily enough without drawing attention to himself and made it back to the lodge, entering through the front door held open by Jules, who had been watching from the window with the guests the whole time. 

With Jack safe, Ed lowered his gun and crouched down so only his head was visible over the top of Cabin 3. After giving the bear a few minutes with the seal-flavoured knife roll, Ed produced the Lodge’s emergency flare gun, aimed it just above the head of the bear toward a blank patch of tundra.

“Hey bear!” he shouted. The bear looked up, and he shot. The stream of orange light illuminated the dusky surroundings of the cabin, casting the bear in a neon glow, and landed on the ground nearby with a sizzle, burning brightly. 

It worked: the bear, scared shitless by the unnatural glowing entity whizzing over its head, clamped the knife roll in its gigantic jaws and trotted away like a dog with a bone. Ed waited until it had disappeared over the ridge bordering the camp before he slid down off the cabin roof. 

Once his feet were on solid ground again, he looked to the lodge. Jules was leaning against the open lodge door, Jack nowhere in sight. She shook her head at him, wide-eyed, a disbelieving smile spread across her face. Ed shrugged, rifle in hand, and let out a nervous laugh, adrenaline still pumping through his body. 

“Crisis averted,” Jules greeted Ed as he jogged up to the lodge. “Way to go out on a high note.”

“Yeah well,” Ed replied, leaving the gun at the door, “The downside to using food is that it might come back.”

“Better than shooting it dead,” Jules reasoned, glancing toward the ridge all the same before closing the door. “Besides, they’re tearing camp down for the winter next week, and then this place’ll be deserted until April.” 

It was time for dinner service, and the guests had settled into the dining hall, but Ed and Jules didn’t make it further than the bar, going straight for the hard stuff. 

“To taking on a hungry polar bear, which is apparently way less scary than sending a text,” Jules said with a shitty smirk, toasting Ed with her shot glass.

“To getting to see Jack try and fight off 800 pounds of teeth and muscle with a belt,” Ed replied solemnly, tipping his own.

“To saving an innocent animal from the worst fucking food poisoning of its life,” Jules quipped back, clinking their glasses.

Ed laughed a bit suddenly, at some private joke. Jules paused, shot glass halfway to her mouth.

“What?”

Ed bit his lower lip, staring at his glass. 

He suddenly couldn’t wait to tell this story, because he knew exactly who would appreciate it most. 

Shaking his head and still smiling, Ed held his glass aloft one more time, his eyes bright.

“To Yogi!”

###

Chapter Text

OCTOBER 25

###

Depending on who you asked, the annual Adventure Travel Summit was either the most highly anticipated tourism event of the year, or an enormous waste of time and money. 

Travel agents, operators, hoteliers from all over Aotearoa, as well as international outbound brands looking to partner up on new ventures, all flocked to the ATS every year for a solid few days of schmoozing, learning, drinking and partying. 

Stede had always wanted to go, to feel part of the community, attend the fancy dinners and end of week gala, but he'd never imagined he'd be experiencing ATS with a whole group of friends. 

He knew this meant he should be excited, that he should be soaking up every moment both on and off the exhibition floor, that this was exactly where he’d hoped to be less than a year ago. 

But for the last month he'd been a little distracted. 

It had come in the middle of the workday; the kind of text message he’d been waiting six months to receive, and had given up expecting:

Hey. So I’ve been an asshole with zero emotional intelligence all summer. I’m really sorry for what that meant for you. You didn’t deserve it. I have so much I want to say to you, Stede. So I’m coming to ATS, and I hope you’ll let me say it in person – although I understand if you can’t. 

Know that I miss you though. I’ve missed you every day. See you Oct 25. 

Ed was sorry. Ed had things to say. Ed was coming back. Ed had missed him. 

Every day. 

Stede had been grappling with those facts since the message had come in. Deciding what to write back had required an unscheduled call with Kewa, with whom he decided that he was allowed to wait to hear what Ed had to say first before really, fully responding, if that’s what he needed. 

It took some work, but he got there, accepting that what he could give, a simple “OK, Ed” was enough – especially at this point. 

Stede still wasn’t sure, but the thought of pouring his heart out into a text only to be ignored for days at a time – refreshing and glancing and carrying his phone with him from room to room at home in case he got a response – made his stomach twist and sink.

That had been the name of the game the last three months or so after all: go easy on himself, reconsider thoughts of guilt and obligation to Ed, put his needs first, even and especially when it was hard. Let Ed do a bit of the repair work, as Kewa had suggested. 

It wasn’t easy, but once he’d gotten the hang of it, Stede found it much easier to put his phone down and do other things. 

Worries about responding quickly to any text he did get became less and less urgent in his mind, and after a while, he’d managed to build something pretty great out of the pieces of his life he could control, and that could be enough, couldn’t it? 

Maybe, he sometimes thought to himself, it was the same for Ed too. 

Then the text arrived, and all the anxieties, all the hopes and all the private thoughts Stede had grown to associate with last spring came crashing back. 

Ed was sorry. Ed had so many things to say. Ed was coming back. Ed had missed him. 

Every day. 

Then the day before the conference, another text had pinged into his phone. 

###

ED TEXTING STEDE

Ed: Hey I'm here. In Wellington I mean. Was thinking we could grab a drink? You choose, since you're the local now.  

###

So now, instead of preparing for the conference Stede had been begging his father his entire life to be able to attend, he was standing in front of his closet, trying to decide what outfit best said “I missed you too but please talk more about all these other things you have to say to me because I'm trying not to be completely insane about my expectations."

He settled on a t-shirt, jeans and a light quilted jacket. Before he closed the closet door though, he ran his fingers along its contents, coming to rest on a fleece pullover tucked away with the rest of his autumn vibe wear. 

It was a dark red, no tag or brand that he could tell. It had long lost its scent; it no longer smelled of campfire and lavender. It wasn’t even particularly nice-looking after years and years of wear. But he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away or move it. It had been a gift, after all. Sort of. 

###

“Fuck, your hands are freezing,” Ed said, grasping at Stede’s hands to check his fingertips. “Here.” Dropping them, he removed his gloves and gave them to Stede.

Nearby, Lucius was huddled under a thermal blanket. Jim was radioing the rest of the crew to say that they'd found them. 

“OK this is good, this’ll be fine, you're fine,” Ed was saying, more to himself than anyone else. He shed his jacket, pulled off his anorak and gathered up the fleece in his hands. 

“C'mere.” 

Before Stede could react, Ed had fitted the fleece over his head. 

He went along with this without complaint, partly because he was too cold and relieved to care much about anything, and partly because Ed’s frenetic fussing, which was very different from his usual stoic, stern, wilderness first aid expert persona, was uniquely bewildering and absurdly adorable. 

Popping his head out the top of the fleece and finding himself a little closer to Ed’s face than he had been a moment ago, Stede felt much warmer. 

“Ed,” he tried, pushing his arms through the sleeves. He wanted to assert that he was fine, maybe say something funny to distract Ed from his worrying, but gave up when Ed pulled his own hat down over Stede’s ears. 

“Better?” Ed asked, hands on his shoulders, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. His face was serious, so serious. Stede was still freezing; he was chilled to the core, but he nodded. 

He nodded because he could tell that Ed needed him to nod. 

"Much better," he said through chattering teeth. 

“Uh, can we go?” Lucius called to them. 

###

Stede stared at the fleece now, unworn for months and colder to the touch than he ever remembered. He'd realized he’d kept it after they’d left Aoraki, when it found its way into his suitcase – intentionally, if he was being honest with himself. Although at the time, of course, he was being anything but. 

Aoraki had been when things started feeling much different for Stede, when things had started stirring, waking up, making him excited, giddy, afraid. 

Looking back in it all now, he wondered how he'd been so asleep for so long in the first place. 

###

Stede was still working through these thoughts when he turned on to Wigan Street toward Havana Bar, and was no closer to determining what exactly he was hoping to hear from Ed when they met in about five minutes. 

He’d been running through the narrative that had been playing in his head on loop since April. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt important to remember the order of things. 

He’d left Ed at the airport. Ed had left then, too. Then Stede didn’t hear from him. Then in June, he did. And they were… OK again? Until Stede said the Sharpie joke and Ed went dark again. 

And then Stede decided to stop trying so hard, and they had a few light exchanges, but Ed didn’t seem to know what he wanted to say, and Stede, well, Stede was trying to not try so hard. 

After going round and round with Kewa about this for months, Stede knew neither of them had been trying to hurt the other. They were both, each, just stuck. 

But then Ed had reached out last week and this time it felt… different. Ed said he was sorry, he’d missed Stede, and he had so many things to say. All week the message had rolled around and around in Stedes head. Kept him up, nagged at him, even made him smile once. 

It also made him feel very anxious. As he approached the little orange and blue house that was Havana Bar, Stede felt something happening in his body that had taken him months of work to be able to recognize. 

His heart was starting to race, his head was starting to cloud. Nothing was tingling yet though, which meant he could likely bring himself back from it. 

Stede hurried past Havana and ducked into the entranceway to the parking garage directly to its left. Hidden from view of the bar’s entrance, Stede cycled through the somatic exercises he and Kewa had practiced week after week, bringing his nervous system back online, preventing a total shut down. 

He was getting better at it; quickly, his breathing slowed, his mind cleared, and soon he was just a slightly sweaty man leaning on a concrete wall in a parking garage, not having a panic attack and enjoying the feeling he’d started having more and more when he recognized these little signs of progress: confidence. 

Then Ed was there. 

Cigarette poised between his lips but not yet lit, he’d clearly had a similar idea to Stede and was planning to compose himself in the shadows before heading inside. 

They stared at each other, stunned. Stede, who had been slightly bent at the waist, straightened up, any panic that had been rising up now shocked right out of him. 

The cigarette dropped from Ed’s mouth and onto the pavement. 

“Hi Ed,” Stede heard himself say, so quietly he wasn’t Ed had even heard him. 

“Hi,” Ed whispered back. 

And then, everything that had felt so complicated and overwhelming, clouding his mind and blocking out the sun only moments before, suddenly ceased to exist. 

Because to Stede, it was all so simple now, so easy, as clear as a bright blue sky. 

He couldn’t help it; some things are so big, so bright, they just shine through everything else – months, miles, sleepless nights. 

He couldn’t help that all he saw in that moment was his best friend – the first person to ever think he was interesting or funny or important – who had disappeared and been out of reach for months, suddenly standing right there in front of him. 

Real. 

And so he certainly couldn’t help but stumble out of the parking garage, onto the sidewalk and straight into Ed’s arms.

Just like he couldn’t help how the air rushed out of him when Ed squeezed back, how he laughed from relief and nerves and happiness, or how softly Ed rested his chin on Stede's shoulder. 

###

###

Ed seemed very nervous, which was interesting for Stede to observe, because Ed being nervous didn’t happen very often – or at least, not the last time they’d been together. 

They’d settled into a window table at Havana Bar, which was quiet and rather deserted; they’d beat the 5-o-clock crowd. 

Ed ordered Mezcal, Stede got some kind of mango cucumber concoction, and they made small talk about Ed’s flight and ensuing jet lag while they waited for their drinks. 

Stede only half-listened to Ed babble awkwardly about the slog of airports and layovers it had taken to get here, because he was too busy trying to process the sight of Ed, sitting there, right in front of him. 

Real. 

Stede could reach out and touch him, if he wanted, if it wouldn’t be weird. 

And it would be weird, right? Stede wasn’t actually sure. They had just fully embraced on the street. 

But now, ten minutes, two drink orders and a handful of awkward jokes later, things felt a little unsure. The tone was light but also thin, like tightly strung wire, musical when plucked, fragile all the same. 

“Thanks uh, for doing this,” Ed said, toying with his drink and chancing a glance at Stede. 

“Of course,” Stede said, a little too earnestly. “I’m glad we could… get together and you know, talk things through.”

An odd look passed over Ed’s face for a moment, but it passed quickly. 

They'd never really acknowledged anything that had happened before Ed had left; all of the drama of the summer had somehow become about not returning texts, disappearing, things unsaid. Stede didn't know how to or if he could bring any of that up, but he did know that he thought about April 5 all the time – and he was pretty sure Ed did, too. 

“Listen, do you mind if I just get this out of the way?” Ed asked, his words tumbling forth without their usual smooth irreverence.

“Oh, yes,” Stede said, folding his hands on the table in front of him and trying to appear open, receptive. "Ready when you are."

Ed drew in a deep breath. 

“Stede, I just… I’m so sorry I took so long to get my shit together,” Ed's eyes bore into Stede's. “I was so fucked up and angry and frozen after the airport, the only thing that made sense was to forget everything, just push it away, and replying to your messages would get in the way of forgetting, so I just… avoided them.”

“I hate that I did that,” he clarified, “and I wish I had a better explanation, but I was just…”

“Stuck,” Stede offered, knowing. 

“Yeah,” Ed sighed, looking out the window. “And I can’t imagine how that felt for you, not knowing if I was OK, or mad at you, or even gave a shit anymore. And yeah, I wasn’t OK, but I wasn’t mad at you either, and–”

“You weren’t… mad?” Stede interjected, unable to help himself from grasping for that bit of clarity. 

“Oh, I was furious,” Ed admitted. “Just – at myself. For so many reasons. I still am, I guess. I hate that–.”

He trailed off and withdrew, looking into the golden amber of his drink. He touched both sides of the glass with his fingertips, something private passing over his face like a dark cloud. 

Suddenly, Stede could feel it too, whatever it was, and couldn’t bear it. He reached across the table. 

“Ed, it’s OK,” his hand on Ed’s arm, just wanting this all to feel less horrible. “It was… a lot. So much. And you know, I’m sorry, too, for–” Stede started, ready to offer his own apology, rehearsed a million times in his head, in the shower, the kitchen, on walks, long drives. 

Ed cut him off with a wave of his hand, pulling his arm out from under Stede’s.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Stede, not really. This was all me.” 

Stede wanted to argue, wanted to explain the exquisite storm of shit – his father, Mary, his own complicated feelings about Ed – that had led to him thinking that going to Alaska might actually be a good idea, that he could start a new life, and wouldn’t be missed. That Ed had offered him a way out, and at the time, he had really, really wanted to take it. Until he realized he couldn’t. 

He was aching to explain this, because he'd never really had the chance. 

Then, Ed drained his glass and set it on the table with precision. 

“So,” he said, turning it in a circle with his thumb and finger, closing that particular door. “What else is new?”

Stede pulled in his lower lip. This was not really how he thought things would go. He wanted to clear the air between them until it was breathable again. Instead, things felt thin, lacking in oxygen. 

“Oh,” Stede heard himself say. “Is– is that all then?” 

Ed was gripping his empty glass now, looking like he night crawl out of his skin. 

“I… think so? Is there anything else? Something I left out?”

Stede hesitated. After all, Ed had come back. Ed had said he was sorry, and now he seemed to have said everything else he'd come to say. Hadn't he? 

He must have. 

“No,” Stede said as any expectations he’d had began shrinking away. “Thank you for saying all that Ed, I… really appreciate it.”

“So, are we, uh, OK?” Ed's eyes met Stede's. Looking into them, and all that looked back, Stede saw that Ed was with him, he was there. He just wasn't quite ready. 

“Absolutely," Stede replied, nodding and smiling, smiling and nodding. 

Because he could tell: Ed needed him to nod. 

Chapter Text

###

It was only his second day home, and Ed was crashing. 

He’d left Greenland with his head full of what if’s, and so didn’t consider the implications of four straight days of flights and airports, or the sheer Stede of everything percolating for the entire trip.

He’d switched his phone on and texted Stede the moment they'd landed on the tarmac. 

Hi, I’m here. In Wellington I mean. Maybe we could grab a drink? You can choose, since you’re the local now.

The anticipation of fixing things had become unbearable after two dozen hours on planes, and he wanted to get it out of the way as quickly as possible. Rip off the bandaid, as Jules had said, before he lost his nerve. 

But then he saw Stede, standing in a parking garage beautiful, glowing like the fucking sun, and looking the same, like their Wellington had been just yesterday, and his brain stopped. 

And then Stede was in his arms, hugging him like it had been years, not months, and his heart stopped. 

And then Stede seemed so warm, so forgiving and normal about everything, even as Ed bumbled his way through the apology that had been fermenting in his brain, typed and re-typed out on his phone, practiced in the mirrors of bathrooms thousands of feet above the ground, since Nuuk. 

He didn’t seem ruffled, even when Ed choked on the last bit, and couldn’t bring himself to talk about anything beyond what he was apologizing for. He’d managed to a point, and then the fear, whatever it was that held him back, ever-present but couldn’t be named, had stepped in and shut him up.

Stede’s lack of resentment and gladness at seeing him hadn’t been what Ed was expecting, and rather than relieving him, had thrown him for a loop. He’d made his way back to the hotel afterward in a haze, wondering if he hadn’t been able to say it all – did any of it really count? 

And then the jet lag hit. The kind that makes the blood feel tingly, that makes the bones ache, that feels like your brain is filling with syrup until it's sloshy, sticky and thick. 

Most times, Ed tried to just let his body take the lead during jet lag – it was partly why he could nap anywhere – but most times, he rarely had a tangled mess of regrets, shame, and insecurity to contend with. Or at least, not on this scale. 

So instead of sleeping, Ed stared at the ceiling of his hotel room, both dreading and excited for the morning, wondering why he still felt so frozen, why Stede had just forgiven him so quickly, so easily, and what the fuck would happen next.

"OK, maybe just relax a little," Frenchie told him hours later at breakfast. "You've been back what, a couple days? Have you even adjusted to the timezone yet?" 

Ed shook his head, hunched over toast and coffee. 

"Well, you did the hard part, which was starting,” Frenchie counseled, smothering his eggs in hot sauce. “As long as he’s willing to listen, it’s worth trying to say whatever you want to say. Just keep trying, and you know, go slow.”

Ed was about to ask how slow was too slow when they were interrupted by a trio of representatives from Tourism New Zealand.

“Sorry, but, are you Edward Teach, from Man of the Mountains?” One of them asked, clutching a copy of Travel + Leisure. 

“Yes, this is Ed Teach,” Frenchie told him. “And I’m Frenchie. Fry. The journalist.”

The rep shook Frenchie’s hand, introducing himself to them as Matt, and his team from the Wellington office.

“We saw you're doing the panel talk with Tino Tours and Nigel Badminton,” Matt said. “What are you planning on talking about?”

Ed sipped his coffee, wishing more than ever that he could inject it directly into his veins. 

“Well,” he said as he put the mug down. “Jackie Jones, who owns Tino Tours, will probably have adventure parts on lock, so I really don't know. Complain about the state of our cultural relations, I guess.”

They all cackled at this, and Ed glanced at Frenchie, alarmed.

"He'll be talking a lot about crossing culture with adventure and how the two don't have to be mutually exclusive," Frenchie told Matt after rolling his eyes at Ed.

"Excellent, well I – we – can't wait, because if it's anything like your article–" 

Frenchie leaned forward "can you tell more about what you mean by that? I always appreciate, you know, feedback." 

Within a few minutes, Frenchie and Ed’s quiet breakfast had become a weird gathering of tourism board people who wanted to hear about the storm on Tongariro, about Ed’s many visits to Aoraki, about his education and training, where else he’d been. 

It became clear pretty quickly that they were all envisioning some sort of ambassadorship, perhaps with Ed being featured in more global publications, maybe appearing in an Air New Zealand safety video or two. Matt in particular had some interesting marketing ideas. 

"Picture you, leading branded trips organized through NZ tourism, themed around different signature experiences," he pitched Ed. 

"Alpine trekking, sea kayaking, city food tours. Market this right and people will fall over themselves to adventure with you. We could even do self-guided itineraries you design -- the opportunities are endless." 

Frenchie, bless him, did most of the talking. Seeing this as an opportunity to finagle more media trips, he played Ed up as a sort of demi-god-like hero, and Ed while made a mental note to thrash him for that later, he was grateful in the moment to drink his coffee and be a visual reference to Frenchie’s stories. 

Then his phone buzzed, offering an even more merciful escape.

###

ADVENTURE CREW CHAT

Lucius: HI ALL
Lucius: We got in last night but were up for hours trying to get out of the pathetic room they put us in. 
Roach: They gave you a free hotel room? The nerve. 
Lucius: I wouldn't expect you to understand this but it was a DOUBLE QUEEN SUITE. 
Pete: For the love of god don't get him going again please
Olu: We're doing a FAM all day but do y'all want to meet up for the big dinner tonight? 
Stede: YES, but also, there will be a very casual, very relaxed and laid back, post-dinner reunion cocktail reception at Casa Stede
Lucius: sounds very laid back and casual.
Stede: Well I don’t want to give anything away, but there WILL be a signature cocktail
John: No shit?
Stede: I won't reveal the name but I WILL say that it was named after a part of our tour. You’ll never guess it.
Jim: Sounds like a challenge 
Jim: Sounds like a challenge
Roach: Whirinakitini 
John: Tongariro Collins
Swede : Fiordland Sour 
Olu: Taupopolitan 
Lucius: Guys, it’s obviously going to be an Aorakuiri after our SECOND near-death experience

###

STEDE TEXTING ED

Stede: They're all wrong.

###

Ed sat up. 

Stede was texting him outside the chat.

Somehow, he knew Ed, who never, ever participated in the group chat, was there watching.

He felt perceived, seen. 

It was very Stede.

###

ED TEXTING STEDE

Ed: What is it?
Stede: Guess.
Ed: is it an Abel Tasman and Tonic? 
Stede: Not even close. should I tell them? 
Ed: I'd keep THEM guessing but tell me though.
Stede: They don't get to know but you do?
Ed: Obviously
Stede: Because you’re special.

###

Period. 

Not question mark. 

Stede was playing with Ed, and Ed had taken the bait and now they were back in their shorthand of weird, irreverent banter, funny to no one but them. 

###

ED TEXTING STEDE

Ed: It’s for quality control. 
Ed: and science
Ed: how else will you know if it’s good
Stede: oh it’s good
Stede: if I tell you you have to act surprised tonight when I do the big reveal 
Ed: Am I invited to tonight?
Stede: of course you are?? 
Ed: didn't want to assume 
Stede: why wouldn't you be invited? 

###

Ed didn't know, because maybe it was uncomfy for Stede to be around Ed, in some inexplicable figment of Ed’s imagination? 

Because maybe Stede had been expecting more from him at Havana the day before and had been disappointed? 

Because maybe he had a whole life outside of Ed and Ed shouldn't just assume he could slip back in like it was nothing?

###

ED TEXTING STEDE

Stede: You're invited, Ed
Although no pressure
Think you'll come? 
Ed: have to check my schedule. I'm very popular
Stede: I understand
Stede: hope you can squeeze me in 
Ed: enough stalling
Stede: OK.
Stede: Get ready 
Stede: Are you sitting down
Ed: JUST SAY IT
Stede: TE PAPA COLADA!
Ed: After the museum? 
Stede: Exactly!  I wanted it to be Wellington-themed, and this seemed fitting – apparently they've booked the whole thing for the closing night party, so
Ed: ok, that's a pretty good name. 
Ed: What's in the drink
Stede: oh 
Stede: haha. 
Stede: I have no idea. 

###

Ed burst out laughing then, forgetting where he was and surprised to look up and see Frenchie and the reps all staring at him questioningly. 

"Sorry, someone uh, funny text," Ed said, pointing at his phone. 

"We uh, we should go anyway," Frenchie said, looking at Ed, amused. "Catch the opening ceremony." 

"Pass," Ed said, with no intention of sitting through an hour of circle jerking self-promotions and token Māori cultural demonstrations.

“Oh come on,” Frenchie chided. “I heard YETI is sponsoring. Might be gift baskets…”

“You didn’t hear it from me, but there are definitely gift baskets,” Matt told them. “Anyway, we should get going too, we’re hosting the opening night dinner at HIAKAI and there's still lots to do."

Matt stood and his team followed. “If not, Ed, we’ll see you tomorrow on stage! Frenchie, we’ll be in touch.”

###

ED TEXTING STEDE

Ed: are you doing this opening ceremony?
Stede: already there! Save you a seat?
Ed: ok, Frenchie is with me
Stede: will save two seats!

###

Chapter Text

###

The morning of Stede's first-ever adventure summit flew by in a flurry of gleeful crew reunions, motivational keynotes, sponsored snack breaks and only one slightly cringey cultural presentation that even Ed admitted "wasn't the worst” he’d seen.

It was also much easier to joke and pretend things were completely and totally normal with each other when they had Pete and Lucius stuffing free merch into their bags, and Frenchie dropping the article into every conversation they had with a stranger. 

Following lunch, everyone had drifted off to a FAM trip or a seminar or to sleep off their jet lag, leaving Ed and Stede, who needed to return to his booth and rep for Tino Tours that afternoon. 

“Ok so, show us your office then,” Ed asked in his signature aloof, offhand way. 

Stede didn’t quite know why he was surprised Ed wanted to hang out at his showroom booth, but he knew exactly why he was excited about it. 

Pulling up a chair and kicking his feet up on the table, Ed crossed his arms across his chest and napped anytime someone approached the booth to speak with Stede about Tino Tours. 

Then, once a brochure had been doled out and Stede was free again, Ed would sit up, and they’d play a game he invented called "Who's That Dickhead," which really just involved pointing out people he knew or knew of, and telling Stede what their deal was. 

"So that's Fleming Frish, he's only been guiding a few years but he’ll tell you it’s been longer," he said, smiling and waving at a muppet-like man with darting eyes at the Intrepid booth. "His one-sheet says he knows how to zodiac in sub-zero waters. He… does not." 

"OK, what about her?" Stede asked, nodding discreetly at a woman in what appeared to be a full-on Crocodile Dundee ensemble. 

"Oh Kimmy," Ed said, leaning forward and getting into it. "So Kimmy is a super talented bush camper. Possibly the best. But poor Kimmy also has a not small fear of rats, which, well, love the bush. One time a rat was poking around in our food and she saw it, then—" Ed clapped, "she bolted into the bush. It was ten at night. I didn't see her again until the morning." 

"Where was she?" 

"In a tree." 

" Ha!" 

The rest of the day went by in a similar way, with Stede working as little as he could and Ed doing an excellent job distracting him; nicking them matching hats from the Tauranga booth that said "Simply Superb" (and insisting they wear them); introducing himself to unwitting buyers as Jeff, Tino Tours' accountant, and stealing a platter of cakes from a closed-door seminar while everyone was on a bathroom break. 

Stede hadn't realized how much he'd missed laughing with Ed – had forgotten how it felt like the easiest thing in the world. 

He'd also forgotten how Ed always seemed to like hanging around him, even if it didn't really make sense, even if there were probably more interesting things to do elsewhere. 

Remembering these things made it so Stede didn't mind so much that he'd laid awake all night, staring at his ceiling, wondering if things were actually OK between them, why Ed had seemed so reserved and stiff at Havana, and what was going to happen next.

Maybe it would just take a little time, he thought, watching Ed's eyes light up as he scanned the room for more tea. Maybe it was OK to just enjoy this part for now.

###

###

The opening night dinner was going to be at HIAKAI, a restaurant specializing in modern Māori cuisine, owned and led by Chef Monique Fiso. 

Ed was so excited about this that when it came time to close up the booth for the day, he insisted on helping Stede – much to Stede's chagrin. 

“Hold on, those don’t go in that box,” Stede leapt at him, grabbing a stack of brochures out of Ed’s hands. 

“They go in Spring 2023. And no no,” he stepped in front of Ed to save a pile of business cards from being placed back into the business card box. 

“These go in the ‘Day Two’ bag. I've got a whole system, so."

“Oh OK sweet, so that means these…” Ed picked up the next stack, boasting Summer 2023 itineraries and holding them over the trash bin, “…probably go in here?”

“OK I know you’re joking, but you’re actually ruining my life right now,” Stede said, lunging for them and explaining where they should go while Ed, who had been steadily backsliding into a sort of jet lag-fuelled absurdity vibe all afternoon, acted infuriatingly more and more confused about what Stede wanted. 

A decidedly unprofessional tug-of-war erupted in that corner of the exhibition hall, with Stede's laugh-begging blending with Ed’s insistent ignorance and ending when the trash can tipped over and spilled wrappers and a banana peel on the floor.

“Uh oh! Clean up in aisle four!" 

Stede and Ed ceased with their grappling and looked up to see Matt from New Zealand Tourism nudging the spill back into the can with his foot and setting it right again. 

“Ed, Frenchie said you were here and I– oh,” he said, straightening up, surprised. “Hi Stede.”

Ed looked at Stede, whose face matched Matt’s. 

“Uh,” Stede said, plastering a gracious smile on his face. “Hello, erm–”

“Matt,” he said, placing a hand on his chest helpfully.

“No, of course, I remember,” Stede assured him. “Ed, this is-”

“We’ve met!” Matt interjected. “At breakfast. I’m a huge fan of Ed’s article, trying to talk him into stepping up for the destination," he winked at Ed. "Maybe a campaign, right Ed?"

“Oh really?” Stede asked lightly, his voice stretched and sing-songy. “Well that would be something –”

“Sorry, how do you two know each other?” Ed blurted, very weirded out by how weirded out Stede was. 

“Oh, we go to the same bar,” Matt told him, gesturing between he and Stede. “The Library. Have you been?”

Ed had been. 

He looked at Stede. Stede’s face, a blank veil poorly shielding untold depths of discomfort, looked back.

“Anyway, I asked Frenchie where you were because I was wondering if you had time to grab coffee tomorrow before the panel talk? I’d love to bend your ear about a few things.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Ed replied, just wanting him to go away. Before that happened, they had to exchange numbers, and a little more extremely awkward small talk, before Matt bowed out and left them alone at the booth, each holding half a stack of brochures for Summer 2023.

###

###

Ed didn’t ask, which somehow made Stede feel more uncomfortable than if he had.

They’d walked to HIAKAI together along a strange road of joking and chatting and pretending, not really saying anything while not letting any silences settle in, either. 

He almost wished Ed had asked about Matt. He thought about bringing it up, since it really wasn’t that big of a deal to begin with, but felt helplessly paralyzed. 

He didn’t know what the rules of romance were when it came to one's Ed meeting one's Matt, who hadn’t ever really been “his” Matt in the first place (after all, he'd only just learned the man's name), but then again, had he ever really been “his” Ed, either? Stede caught himself gnawing a fingernail as they walked and shoved it in his pocket.

He knew he was overthinking things – therapy had helped with building his awareness around that, so he could recognize when it was happening. 

He just hadn’t been going long enough to know what to do about it. 

And just like that, in not bringing it up, it became yet another thing unsaid, yet another thing added to the list of things to be worked out between them as they walked into the restaurant and were hailed over by the crew. 

“OK it's a good thing you got here when you did because I was about to eat your share of –” Lucius greeted Stede as he slid into the chair next to him. “What is it, you look weird.”

“Uh, well,” Stede replied, watching as Ed disappeared toward the bathroom. “Remember the guy I met on my birthday?”

“Who, Brown Eyes?” Lucius leaned in, his finely-honed sense for drama picking up on something very juicy.

“Yes, him,” Stede confirmed, glancing around at the table making sure everyone else was sufficiently engaged in their own thing. “Well, Ed just met him.”

“Really.”

“He works for NZ tourism and his name, apparently, is Matt.”

Lucius leaned away again, disappointed. “So? You said nothing happened.” He quickly leaned back in again. “Nothing happened right?”

Stede hesitated. 

“Not… on my birthday,” he admitted. Lucius’ eyes bulged and Stede hurried to settle him. “I saw him again next time I was at the bar and he– we… kissed. A little bit.”

“That’s it?” Lucius was back to being disappointed. “Stede, that’s nothing to be worried about. Everybody kisses. I could kiss you right now, nobody would care.”

“Please don’t,” Stede asserted. “It’s just… it happened last week. After Ed sent that text. Like, moments after.”

Lucius clenched his teeth together in an awkward grimace and hissed in understanding. 

“OK so you feel guilty. Well. Does Ed know that?”

Stede shook his head. He turned to order a drink from the server, who had appeared at the end of the table. 

“Did he ask?” 

“No,” Stede said, becoming visibly uncomfortable again as Ed reappeared at the table, settling between Olu and Pete. “It just feels… we were doing OK-ish and now it feels weird again, I think?”

Lucius gave Stede a frank look. “It was going to be weird regardless. Everything about you two is weird, mostly because you both insist on making it weird.”

Stede snuck a glance at Ed, who had been looking at him, and they both redirected away. 

They did make it weird, didn’t they?

“OK so now what?” Stede asked. Lucius shook his head like it was nothing.

“If he asks, tell him the truth. If he doesn’t ask, don’t worry about it. It’s not your job to read his mind, Stede.”

This isn’t something you’re supposed to do alone . Kewa’s words, inscribed on a post-it in his home office, floated by in his head. 

“Right, that makes sense,” Stede agreed. “Go with the flow, stop making it weird–”

“Stop looking for ways to make it weird,” Lucius corrected.

“I got it.” Stede took a giant pull from his red wine. “Easy.”

###

###

At the other end of the table, Ed was well into making things weird. 

He hadn’t asked, but he knew there was something to that Matt guy that Stede was not saying aloud. Didn’t matter that Stede seemed to not even know his name – there was a weirdness there, he could feel it. 

Not that he would ask; it was none of his business anyway, he told himself. 

After all, Stede had been out all summer, and living here, and they weren’t together, not really, and so why the fuck would he care what Stede and Matt got up to at the Library, the bar that had been too romantic , in Ed’s mind, to take Stede to the last time they had been in Wellington together?

Stop, he told himself, feeling the all-too familiar buzz of insecurity bubbling up. Stede had spent the day goofing off with him , not Matt. He had been happy to see him yesterday. 

Ed silently begged the parts of him that loved to fuck his shit up not to let something awkward and unsaid make things weirder than they needed to be. 

He looked at Stede and saw Stede looking at him and he looked away and decided not to think another damn thing about Stede or Matt or anything else until he’d had a full night’s sleep. 

###

ADVENTURE CREW CHAT

Stede: 40 Rolleston Street, Mount Cook, Wellington. White bungalow. See you there!

###

###

Ed stared at Stede’s bungalow from the sidewalk. The house was large, for being a single floor, framed in hydrangeas and rhododendrons, and set upon a broad, neatly-trimmed lawn. 

A narrow walkway connected the front door to the gate of the – Ed shook his head – literal white picket fence. Of course Stede Bonnet had a white picket fence. 

He’d walked to Stede's bungalow with Olu and Jim, and after a fantastic dinner and bottle of wine paid for by – well, not strictly by Matt since it was New Zealand Tourism that had sponsored the dinner, but Ed had ordered a really expensive one with the hope of somewhat inconveniencing Matt with his expense report later – he was feeling much better about pretty much everything. 

Olu and Jim were some of his favourite people, though he hardly ever saw them outside of work functions– and they’d had a beautiful catch up over dinner and en route to Stede’s after-dinner Te Papa Colada fest. So he was feeling fine. 

He was determined to be normal and keep the good vibes flowing, and not be weird about being in Stede’s house, which, he realized when they arrived, was so nice. 

The door was ajar; Lucius and Pete had rode ahead in a cab with Stede to help set up and were now shouting over pop music blaring from somewhere in the house, so it felt safe to just walk in. 

Olu and Jim followed the beats down the hall, but Ed drifted in the other direction, down a different hall, looking around.

Beautifully framed but loud and splashy artwork, a mix of paintings and photography, lined the walls. The lighting was warm and inviting. The wooden floors were a buttery sort of colour, and the walls a soothing shade of cream. 

It was like Stede, but in house form, Ed decided: warm and comfortable, and somewhat eccentrically adorned.

He poked his head in the first room to his left, and upon realizing it was the master bedroom, froze. He wanted to venture inside, he really did. But he shouldn’t. 

Right?

Ed placed a hand on the wall and scanned his surroundings. This room was also very Stede: uniform in certain ways: the bed, neatly made with far too many decorative pillows; the furniture was clearly expensive and yet also a bit too splashy; trinkets, well, everywhere. 

Abandoning his resolve not to trespass, Ed was drawn across the room by a collection of what appeared to be Japanese pottery, then a grouping of colourful seashells, and eventually found himself peering down at a series of first-edition novels by Jan Morris. 

“Have you read her?” 

Ed jumped, caught snooping. Stede was in the doorway, looking hesitant to enter his own bedroom.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure how to not surprise you,” Stede apologized. 

“I’m sorry,” Ed said. “I was just…” 

“You've found me out, I'm a real geek about collections,” Stede said, nodding to where Ed had been looking. “I collect pretty odd things, kind of have them spread all over the house in little spots. Jan Morris – well she’s considered one of the great travel writers of our time – reading her always makes me feel like I'm traveling myself. Did you know she was a trans woman?”

Ed looked over his shoulder at the books. Of course, he knew Jan Morris, but he loved that Stede did too. 

“I think I’d heard that somewhere, yeah,” he said. Stede came to stand beside him, and then there they were, together, alone, next to each other, in Stede’s bedroom. 

“Her book about Venice is… well it made me want to go, naturally,” Stede said, picking it up and sifting through the pages. He put it back. “One day.”

He turned to Ed. “Were you looking for something?”

Ed blinked at him, then realized Stede was offering him a graceful excuse as to why he was in one of the most private parts of a person’s home. 

“Uh, yeah – do you have a phone charger? Mine’s about to go,” Ed said, holding up his phone and hoping Stede didn’t see that it still had a half charge. 

Stede nodded, smiling and led Ed across the hall to his office. Ed plugged in his phone, feeling a bit embarrassed now, self-conscious.

“Cheers,” he said, turning back to Stede. “Really nice house, by the way.”

“Well I’d love to show you the rest of it!” Stede said, extra cheery. Then he stopped. His face dropped and he also looked self-conscious. 

“Listen, Ed,” he said in a low voice. “Matt–”

“You don’t have to do that,” Ed stopped him abruptly. “None of my business.” 

“I know, but I want to say–”

“Seriously, Stede,” Ed said firmly, squeezing past Stede. “No need. It really doesn’t matter.”

That had come out harsher than he’d meant it, but he was far too tired and buzzed and, now, embarrassed that Stede had caught him poking around his room, to get into something that was just going to make him feel worse.

“Is the party down that way?” Ed pointed to where he’d seen Jim and Olu disappear. 

“Ah, yeah,” Stede said, breathing out his answer, appearing tired. “Follow me.”

###

###

Stede was mixing another batch of Te Papa Coladas in his kitchen, frowning over the rum to coconut cream ratio. 

Across the expansive island that separated his kitchen from his living room, the rest of the crew was spread out on sofas and leaning against walls, joking and catching up, snacks and cocktails in-hand.

Music made everything feel really lighthearted, and hearing it blend with the sound of his friends’ laughter made Stede’s heart swell.

Save for Mary and his kids, everyone he loved was in this room, and no matter what else might be going on, that made him really happy. 

“Hey, got any fizzy water?” Frenchie asked, sliding around the island and helping himself to the fridge. “John’s limit for the night is one, then he switches to bubbly.”

“Yep, but not in there, you want the drink fridge,” Stede directed Frenchie to the mini fridge built into the island with his foot, not leaving his blender. 

“Ooh, a drink fridge!” Frenchie said, twinkling his fingers as he crossed toward it. “Very hoity toity, Mr Fancyman.”

“Hardly,” Stede laughed. “It’s just lower to the ground and the kids are always wanting snacks and such.”

“You know, I was going to ask how many juice boxes a grown man needs,” Frenchie joked, pulling a Perrier out of the fridge otherwise stacked with cartons of fruit punch and turning to Stede. 

“But that makes more sense. I always forget you have kids. Are they here a lot?”

Stede nodded. “Yeah, we all moved here after the divorce. Mary and I both wanted to get out of Queenstown, so this made sense for co-parenting purposes.”

“How’re you liking it?”

Stede topped the mixture off with some pineapple juice. 

“It’s alright. A bit lonely, I guess? But I’m meeting people.” 

“Yeah Lucius was just telling me– Tourism Matt huh?” Frenchie teased knowingly. Then he saw Stede’s face. “Shit, sorry – I didn’t know it was a secret.”

“No, no it’s not Frenchie, it’s fine – although, really Lucius? – but no, it’s fine. It’s just…” Stede looked over at Ed, who was telling an animated story, half-finished Te Papa Colada in hand, to Pete and Swede. Frenchie followed his gaze. 

“Uh huh,” he watched Ed with Stede. “Someone jealous?”

“You know, I don’t even know if that’s it?” Stede replied, relieved someone outside his head was saying it. 

After Ed had disappeared to Greenland, Frenchie had been a sympathetic ear, not so much wanting to speak for Ed, but once going so far as to explain that Ed’s avoidance of Stede was more about Ed than anything else. It had helped; Frenchie seemed to understand Ed more easily than Stede did at times.

“He says it’s fine but… it doesn’t feel fine? I don’t know, it’s all confusing, sorry.”

Frenchie put the water down and looked sternly at Stede. “Listen. You didn’t do anything wrong so don’t let him get to you that way. You weren’t together or anything, and Matt and Jack were just–” Frenchie stopped, but Stede caught it anyway. 

“Jack?” 

Frenchie sucked a deep breath. “Fuck me. What are you putting in those coladas?" He ran his hands down his face, composing himself.

"OK, listen, all I’ll say is: don’t feel like you did anything wrong last summer, because you really didn’t. And neither did he.”

Stede stared at Frenchie for a moment, his expression blank. Then he turned away and punched a button on the blender , drowning out the other sounds around him. 

###

Ed was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. 

A few hours later, the living room was a mess of chips and crackers on the floor, empty, still-foamy colada glasses everywhere, and a damp clump of paper towels sat on the coffee table, where Olu had spilled a drink while trying – and failing – to teach Roach a dance move. 

The crew was sprawled out across the furniture and on rug, sloshy and gleeful and obnoxiously loud, and Ed hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. 

The music had stopped playing but nobody seemed to notice for all the talking.

Pete had just finished telling a horrifying story about getting pelted with fruit and robbed by monkeys in Sri Lanka, and everyone was dying at the description of Lucius fleeing into the truck and locking the door before Pete had had a chance to follow him. 

“It’s funny now,” Pete said, “but I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared in my life. They took my money and my passport. Why does a monkey need a passport?”

“Who else has a freaky animal story?” Olu asked.

So far, they’d heard how Swede had been chased by a hyena on horseback at Mount Kenya, Roach’s close encounter with a leopard seal in Antarctica and Pete’s monkey mugging.

“I bet Ed has one,” Jim piped up. “Am I right?”

Ed’s coy shrug was fooling absolutely no one. He was feeling no pain, and kind of liked the way everyone was leaning in expectedly. 

“OK, so last week,” he began, going on to tell the polar bear story with a surprising lack of embellishment, because in retrospect, he realized, it was a pretty cool story all on its own.

“Fuck OFF!” John exclaimed as Ed described the size of the bear.

“Holy shit,” Roach had laughed when Ed told them how his fellow guide had looked, trapped pantless on the top of the cabin.

“NOPE,” Lucius had shouted, hands over his ears, when Ed detailed how he’d snuck around the bear to climb on top of the adjacent cabin. “I’d be staying in the lodge and locking all the doors.”

“Yeah, we know you would,” Pete griped darkly.

The room gasped and shouted incoherently at all the right parts of the story, and Ed felt himself physically inflate with anticipation as he neared the end, where the bear fled, unharmed, into the tundra and he slid down the cabin roof, gun still in-hand, like a goddamn action movie hero (he may have made that part sound a little cooler than had happened in real life). 

Everyone applauded when he finished; Ed had told the story with a rare level of enthusiasm, thanks to the coladas, and he couldn’t help but bask in the glory of the recognition, but also, the memory of that day, and how great Jules had been. He wondered what she was up to now. 

“I can’t believe you had a Yogi moment!” Stede said in faux despair. “And I wasn’t there!” 

Ed threw his hands up. “I know! Devastating! I did do a shot in your honor, though Stede. Well, I toasted Yogi, but I was thinking of you.”

Stede was smiling, but there was something behind it Ed could see flickering but didn’t really register. 

“Well. Jack was really lucky to have you there,” Stede said then in an oddly lighthearted, high voice, standing up to take a few empty glasses to the kitchen. 

Ed felt his neck and shoulders grow hot almost instantly. He hadn’t said Jack’s name in the story, not once. 

He looked to Frenchie, the only person in the room who knew about Jack, as Stede busied himself in the kitchen. Frenchie looked guilty, but not sorry. He shrugged with one shoulder as if to say it just sort of happened. 

In the kitchen, Stede was rinsing glasses at the island sink, facing the living room but fixed on the tap and the dishes, his brow finely knitted. 

Around Ed, everyone else had gone back to chatting, but it all sounded tinny to him. Stede knew about Jack. He'd been caught in a – not a lie, exactly, but an omission. They both had omissions, apparently, and that realization made everything feel suddenly… unsafe.

He looked again at Stede, and caught some horrible blend of hurt and confused being directed at a soapy glass. 

It was too much for Ed. He climbed to his feet, and without another word, without attracting any attention, left the room. 

Stede noticed though, and after a glance at Frenchie, who merely shrugged again, went after Ed. 

“Ed, wait a moment,” Stede said as he came into the hallway, but Ed had already thrown on his jacket and gone out the door. Stede followed him, not bothering with shoes. 

“Ed!” 

Ed was halfway down the walkway already when he turned, eyes flickering momentarily to Stede’s sock feet. They were neon pink, with yellow pineapples on them, and he felt his brain file that away, for some reason.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, I’ve got to… go,” Ed finished, too flustered to think of a legitimate reason.

“Why? Because I mentioned Jack?”

Ed considered telling the truth: how much it fucking hurt that there was a stretch of time where they both wanted different people, even if it was just for a night, for a minute. 

That it was his own fault it had happened, because he had fucked off, he put the space between them, and he was still putting space between them, so he couldn’t even be mad at Stede. 

He was just mad at himself, he was mad at himself all the time these days and didn’t really know what to do with all of that.

“No mate, it’s not that deep. Just tired. S’been a long day.”

Stede wasn’t buying it. He padded a little closer. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up the way I did. I just… I wish you’d told me.”

Ed regarded him. “Like you told me about Matt?”

Stede chewed his top lip and looked down at his sock feet. “I would’ve, you know. Everything’s just been happening so fast, since yesterday. We haven't had much of a chance to talk."

“Yeah, maybe too fast,” Ed said, turning before he could see Stede’s reaction. His mental state in the last 24 hours had been constantly vacillating between fear and anxiety and anger and shame, and he was finally running out of juice. 

He headed to the gate.

“What? Wait, what does that mean, 'too fast'?” Stede said loudly, following. “Ed, would you just talk to me for god sake?”

“Doesn't mean anything,” Ed called casually over his shoulder. “It’s fine Stede, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“No – nope, Edward, it is not fine!” Stede said, suddenly angry, taking on a stern tone that probably worked on his kids, stepping forward and putting himself between Ed and the gate. 

“I’ve had it with everything being so weird . Now we need to have it out, but we can’t do that if you won’t be honest so– please, talk to me. ”

At first Ed was startled by this bossy side of Stede. Then he felt a wave of resistance. He wasn't the only one who had issues with honesty. 

“You want honesty?” he challenged. “Are you sure you can handle that? Because you really seemed to have a problem with it back in April. Remember? When you made it seem like everything was fine with your family and you were totally free to leave – and then absolutely none of that was true?”

Stede seemed almost relieved. “I remember. I wish I had been more upfront about everything, and – I’m sorry, Ed.”

He seemed to really mean it. “I was kind of… spinning out about a lot of things and you were so… I didn’t mean to keep the facts from you, but at the time – I think I was keeping them from myself, too, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah. Well. It doesn't matter now." 

Ed winced. That hadn’t come out the way he wanted. His attempt to close the conversation was only half-hearted, because something about Stede explaining himself, admitting his heart was a mess too, had sort of brought the temperature down. 

"Sorry. I only meant–” Ed tried again. “Being honest is…" 

"Fucking terrifying?" Stede said helpfully. He had finally gotten things to where he needed them to be, and he wasn’t about to let go now. Ed raised his eyebrows in agreement.

“Well if it helps, I’ll go first, in the spirit of honesty,” he continued, componsing himself with a deep breath and folding his hands in front of his body. 

“Ed, I didn’t do any of that to hurt you. But sometimes… well this summer, it really felt like you wanted to hurt me.”

Ed’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“Well, you said,” Stede started, trying to steady his voice. “You said at the airport that we didn’t have to go – that we could figure it out. Do you remember? You said that you’d stay . And then I freaked out and drove away, yes, but I never thought you’d disappear like you did."

Ed’s muscles tensed. A familiar sense of shame, panic, started brewing. He paced away from and moved toward the house, seeking distance, suddenly feeling caged in. 

“Then after, I didn’t know where you were. I couldn’t even talk to you. I only found out where you were because Lucius told me.” 

Stede didn’t sound angry, moreso urgent. Moreseo sad, almost pleading. “You just vanished. On purpose. I never would have done that to you.”

Ed’s breathing hitched in his throat; attacked as he was, and with Stede blocking the gate, he was either going to fight or cry.

“Well if it was possible that you were spinning out and keeping things from yourself, Stede, I guess maybe I was too.”

“But I spun out over a twenty-four-hour period,” Stede pressed. “It took you weeks – months, really. Which is OK, it’s just something we ought to talk about.”

Ed pressed his lips together, swallowed down the lump in his throat. Stede’s lowering tone was triggering something in him that was aching to be understood, to be told that maybe he wasn’t such a disaster after all.

“Well it was really fucking hard,” he admitted, “thinking you wanted to…" –he forced the words out– "be with me and then seeing you just – just totally break down like that, and know it was because you didn’t want to... You could have just told me what was going on.”

“I should have,” Stede agreed. “I wish I hadn't let it all go on for so long without saying anything. Mostly because… it ended with me losing my best friend,” he paused, seeming to weigh something in his head. 

“Losing my best friend,” he continued, “when I really needed him. When I thought he’d be there. You… you could have just texted me back.”

At that, the pendulum swung and Ed was heat and fight again, a current of emotion rushing along his spine into his head, blocking out all reason. 

He hated how much he felt at fault for this, how much Stede had clearly thought it all through, how collected he was while Ed was standing there, heart racing, on fire.

Stede seemed to sense this, so he left the gate and slowly approached, standing in front of Ed.

“I know I handled everything… horribly, too” he said. “But I also tried to repair it. I texted, I called, I reached out. You– well, we never actually talked about it. So after a while, it felt like our friendship sort of… ended that day."

Stede was being so earnest, but Ed couldn’t feel that now because something was still rearing up in him, sharp-edged and protective. This was exactly the kind of exchange that he had been trying to avoid because he knew it would likely end with an inevitable admission – and a rejection. 

“What I’m saying is, I’ve spent the last few months feeling really confused. Maybe that’s why–” Stede trailed off, reconsidered his direction. “I really missed my friend, that’s all.”

Something electric surged through Ed and he squeezed his eyes shut against the words. 

“Please Stede, stop saying that .” He maneuvered himself around Stede and took a few steps forward, but then turned around to face him, exasperated. 

“Saying what?” Stede asked, confused. 

“That we were friends, ” Ed said, looking expectantly at Stede. Inwardly he wondered, if given the choice now, faced with hard truth, whether Stede would still rather choose honesty, or blissful ignorance. 

“But we were friends?” Stede’s voice was small.

“Yeah but that’s not what we’re talking about right now.” 

A voice inside Ed said don’t. 

Stede frowned, trying to understand. 

“You’re hurt that I wasn’t honest with you. I’m hurt you left. We were friends, and then it felt like we weren’t. That’s… that’s what we’re talking about, right?”

don’t do it.

“Yeah, but it was different for me ,” Ed insisted, his voice climbing, pleading for Stede to understand so he didn’t have to say it. 

“How?” Stede was so confused.

don’t

“Because I was in love with you!” 

Ed couldn’t catch the words before they flew forth and shattered the night air, harsh and raw and irredeemable. 

He couldn’t handle that Stede was pushing for honesty and yet avoiding the truth that had been the catalyst for all of this at the same time. 

Ed could only stare at him, horrified, braced against the wrenching heartbeats in his chest, and try not to run. The words were out now, he couldn’t take them back, plus there were more – and now that he'd broken the seal, he couldn’t stop until he’d said them all. 

“I kissed you, and you kissed me back,” he blurted, his face hot, eyes brimming, then tumbling forth into slow, steady rivulets streaming down, down. 

“I asked you to come with me, you said yes. You couldn’t do it in the end, that’s… fine , but it was about a lot more than friendship so don’t pretend that you didn’t know exactly what was happening.”

Stede didn’t move, didn’t blink. He just stood in front of Ed, listening, and breathing. 

“Maybe I should have stayed, yes, but I was also devastated , Stede. You were everything  – all of it – and then suddenly none of it was actually real ? Suddenly you had hidden shit that you needed to fix, that'd been there the whole time? All I had were these half truths from you – but what I did know was that the idea of leaving with me made you fall apart . I’m sorry I didn’t know how to handle that, I wish I did. But I fell apart, too.”

Ed was hugging himself tightly, his fingers digging into his arms. His throat ached, but he kept pushing every word through, now, finally, needing them to be said.

“So yeah, I’m not that keen to talk about it. And sure, things are weird right now. But I’m here, I came back, and I’m really fucking scared of what’s next because being heartbroken fucking hurts, and you’re standing there talking about friendship? I mean were you really that confused, Stede?"

He held his arms up then, begging for some explanation, for Stede to contradict him. But Stede had become very still, and that just made everything so much worse, and Ed was desperate, after all that, for Stede to say something.

"I mean did you ever feel anything at all?" Ed poked, "or were you just – using me to escape your shitty life?” 

Fuck. 

Stede looked so hurt then that Ed almost took it all back, almost pulled him in to whisper apologies until everything could be unsaid. 

Instead, with sickening shame hitting him in fiery waves, he did the only thing he could comprehend – the thing he did best in the face of remorse and Stede’s crushing expression. 

He made for the gate and took off, down the street and around the corner, stopping to catch his breath against the wall of a store with dark windows. This time, Stede didn’t follow.

You piece of shit. 

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, willing them, threatening them to stop running. 

Why would he say that? Why would he be such a dick, why couldn't he just be normal about this? The fuck was wrong with him?

He could feel himself teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something that existed in a darkness outside of ordinary reality, that saw the brutal truth of what it meant to live, breathe and feel as a human being and could rarely ever see the point. 

Desperate to avoid that feeling, Ed grasped blindly for an antidote – and took himself back to a day in August, when he was preparing lunch alone in the Lodge kitchen. He was in the weeds, working to get everything plated hot for twelve, and was majorly multitasking. 

Then, just for a moment, a flash of a second, his mind had wandered to the packing list for that afternoon’s hike, just for a moment – but it was long enough to forget to grab a towel before palming the handle of the skillet that he’d just pulled out of the oven. It had only been a moment, but the pain had been dazzling. 

He rose above the pain, and managed to play through it, as vicious as it was, until lunch had been served. 

He needed that now. Needed to get around the searing pain; rise above it. Distraction. Distraction was safe.

Ed climbed to his feet and began to walk in the direction of his hotel, filling his head with the dishes he’d eaten at HIAKAI that night, and started pulling them apart, preparing them in his mind, tricking his brain and nerves into thinking he was working, being methodical and consistent, rather than hurtling through the deafening, unceasing chaos of self-loathing.

It worked for about a half hour, the entire walk back to the hotel, seeing Ed all the way up to his room. 

He didn’t know what else to do when he got there, so he put on the kettle for tea – something his mom used to do when things were going south at home, something she said always made things feel a little less terrible, just another thing he could think to do with himself so he didn’t have to think at all. 

Once the water had boiled, Ed picked the kettle up to pour the water, and in his exhaustion, picked it up too fast, pouring too hastily. Boiling water, jumpy and still bubbling, spattered out of the spout, all over the hand that was holding the mug. 

"Fuck!" he yelled, the mug clattering to the floor. His hand killed. He ducked into the bathroom to put it under cold water. 

This required topping for a moment, held hostage by the tap, waiting for the sting to subside. The water smoothed itself over the burn, and Ed turned his hand over, looked at the palm. It was the same one that had palmed the skillet, the same one he’d been able to ignore the first time. It was fine now, not even scarred.

Then, another part of that day in August came hurtling back at him; something he had somehow suppressed in favour of a memory about rising above pain. 

Ed hadn’t ignored the agony of being burned, not even close. The part of him that could get lost in work for hours, that felt safest working, had wanted him to keep going, lest he fail all the guests and serve them cold lunch, lest Jack yelled at him and he get fired from the lodge. 

But his hand and wrist felt like they were being stabbed with needles, and another part of him, a usually quiet, usually invisible part, knew that couldn’t be ignored. 

His first instinct, which was to finish the job, and have a fucked-up hand, lost out to this other part, the part that wanted him to not just survive – but to live, to be safe. To heal. 

And in that moment, as his nerve endings screamed louder than his need to keep pushing through, the quiet part won. 

Abandoning lunch, Ed had stepped away and held his hand in a sink of cold water until the burning stopped, and it had felt impossibly good, standing there, his muscles unknotting, his breathing slowing, being soothed, made safe in a radical sort of way that he hadn’t tried in years. 

It was like a spell had been broken, something that had been keeping him submerged since April, numb to anything that had a need. 

Connecting the dots while he stood, silently chastizing himself in the bathroom mirror, Ed realized this had happened only days after talking to Jules on the beach. 

In the end, when the pain had dulled, he’d dressed it, took a few Tylenol, and then got back to work. 

Yes, lunch was late, and cold, and Jack had thrown a tantrum that, at the time, had made him feel really stupid – but he’d still done what was needed to make the burning stop. 

###

###

It took some doing to convince everyone that Stede was fine to be alone.

Nobody was eager to leave; they’d all seen what went down on Stede’s lawn, having rushed to crouch at the front window as soon as Stede had gone after Ed. 

But Stede was reeling, and told everyone he just wanted to be on his own, he’d be fine, maybe clean his house about it, yes, he promised to text Lucius if he changed his mind.  

That’s how Stede came to be sitting on his rug in the middle of his living room an hour later, having cleaned absolutely nothing, surrounded by chip crumbs and crumpled napkins, eating a litre of Cherry Garcia to a soundtrack of sad music.

On the one hand, Stede actually felt, strangely, a little better. He’d gotten some things off his chest. He knew a little of what was in Ed’s mind too, at least. 

On the other, Ed had said some pretty mean things, regardless of the circumstances, and Stede knew he hadn’t deserved that. 

The words I was in love with you carouseled endlessly in his head. 

Of course he knew they weren’t just friends. Ed had to know that. 

I was in love with you . 

Then again, maybe he needed to actually hear it said? 

I was in love with you. 

Ed had come back. He wanted to be here, but he was scared, or something equally strong, and it was making him… well, it was making things rather complicated. 

I was in love with you .

Now that things were out in the open, Stede knew what needed to happen next. 

That didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to do it, but he had spent too much time talking to Kewa to ignore what was ringing clear in his head and heart.

Stede was about to turn the sad music up when he heard a knock on the door. 

He padded across the room in now-dirty sock feet and opened the door to find Ed on the front step. 

“I forgot my phone.”

###

Everyone had gone by the time Ed made it back to the house, because when Stede opened the door, there were no more voices, no more pop songs, but rather, something slower, quieter.

“I forgot my phone,” he heard himself say. 

Stede looked like he’d been crying. He was still in those pink socks, but had changed into grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, and was holding a pint of ice cream with a spoon sticking out of the top. 

Ed inwardly gathered strength. 

Sometimes, the universe sees your pain… and decides to fuck you a little harder with adorable shit that you do not have the capacity for. 

“I think it’s in your office.”

Stede stared at him for a little longer than what would be considered polite, then moved to the side. “Uh, OK, come in.”

Ed stepped back inside. Stede pointed down the hall.

“Just down there.” 

“Yeah, I remember.” Ed left Stede and went toward the office. 

When he came back, Stede wasn’t in the foyer anymore. 

He’d left the ice cream sitting on the hall table though, among a series of gold picture frames Ed hadn’t noticed before.

There were five, different sizes, and in each of them was Stede, in various states with two small children; posing all together in a campsite, sitting with the girl and a birthday cake, a silly selfie with the boy, holding up the girl and what looked like a swimming trophy. 

Stede, asleep in bed with a toddler and a baby cuddled up with him. Ed picked up the last one because he loved the way Stede looked, peaceful and happy, and instantly regretted seeing it for the searing pang in his chest. 

“Alma and Louis,” Stede said evenly, reappearing in the doorway between the hall and the living room. “They’re nine and five now, that’s an old photo.”

Once again, Ed had been caught nosing around. “I uh, I didn’t notice these before.”

“Oh, I put them in the drawer for the party,” Stede replied. “I thought it might be… upsetting or –I don’t know.”

“You hid pictures of your family? Why would that upset me?”

Stede had circles under his eyes. He reached around Ed to retrieve the ice cream off the table. 

“I don’t know. To be honest Ed, sometimes I don’t know what’ll upset you until after it’s already happened.”

Ed looked down. Fair. 

“Right. Well, I’ve got my phone, so.” Rapidly losing his nerve, he moved to the door. 

“Ed.”

Ed stopped. Stede was gazing at him, unreadable, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Why are you here?”

Ed held up his phone, but Stede shook his head. 

“You didn’t have to come all the way back here for that tonight, I would have brought it tomorrow.”

Ed didn’t reply. He couldn’t think of an excuse because Stede was completely correct, and they both knew it. 

“So?” Stede pressed.

“I’m here because…” Ed looked all around the room, then squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. 

Make. The. Burning. Stop.

“I’m here because I was a fucking asshole to you before and I’m– I’m really sorry,” he said, forcing himself to look at Stede, to speak and not stop. Radical safety. “I’m here because… I really don't want to be anywhere else."

He held his breath. Stede didn’t react, at least not in any way that Ed could see. Then, Stede tilted his head back toward the living room.

“Come on.” Stede turned and left the foyer. Ed hesitated, then followed.

In the living room, Stede sat perched on the edge of his sofa, facing the entry. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands folded in front of his chest. Ed hovered in the entryway a few feet away.

"I loved today," Stede said thoughtfully, like the idea had just occurred to him, his gaze fixed a few feet from where Ed stood. "Being… ourselves. Idiots. Just together, like before, you know? It was the best I've felt in, well, since April."

He bowed his head then, as if stooping to collect more words, organize his thoughts. He looked small, folded up like that. 

"You and I… I think we fit. We just do. It feels so – so easy sometimes." 

His hands moved to comb through his hair, cradling his head, and Ed recognized the look: Stede was having his own internal war with honesty. 

"I want us to fit like we did today, all of the time.” He looked up then, squarely at Ed. “But sometimes I can't tell if that's what you want? And I can't–"

Stede was clenching his hands now, a gnarled knot, a physical container for whatever was going on inside. 

"I can't keep trying to make things fit by myself, Ed. It won’t work. I need you to talk to me, tell me when something’s bothering you, when you're afraid, when you – whether or not you even want me? I need those things Ed, or else… I don't think I can keep going."

Ed felt lightheaded. He could feel his neck, his shoulder muscles tightening. He wondered at what point was he ignoring the burning, versus stopping the burning. It was hard to tell. 

“And I know… that I don’t always know the right thing to say either,” Stede said then, to the carpet. “I’m working on that. Trying to communicate more. Have less… disasters. It's, well it’s slow going. Lots to unlearn.” 

Stede said all this without expression.

Ed waited to speak, sensing there was more. 

“But–” Stede paused for a full minute, not looking at Ed, proceeding with care. "Please don’t think that just because I don’t have the words sometimes… it means that I don’t – that I didn’t feel anything.”

Ed was gutted. He wanted to run, avoid the responsibility of his words having hurt Stede, of accusing him of not feeling things because what the fuck was wrong with him?

But he firmly pushed that away. Radical safety. 

Ed crossed the room and sat on the edge of the coffee table, across from Stede so that their knees were almost touching. 

“I don’t think that,” he told Stede softly, his voice hoarse from the tightness in his throat. 

“Because I did, you know,” Stede drew in a shaky breath, still focused on the carpet. “I- I do. I feel a lot of things, actually. All of the time. Especially…” he swallowed, eyes flickering up for a moment, “especially for you. Especially now.”

If Stede had looked up again, he would know that Ed's eyes were moving over every inch of him, as though trying to detect a point of entry, where he might reach Stede, where they might both connect and actually feel it at the same time. 

“I feel happy – so happy – when I'm with you and things are OK,” Stede went on. “But I also feel sad that you spent such a long time feeling like you couldn’t talk to me, that it finally all came out tonight the way it did. I feel really scared that we’re– that this is maybe too hard for you. And I feel… well, so much for you, Edward.

Ed's hands were shaking when Stede reached for them, smoothing over his knuckles and pressing his fingertips into Ed's palms. He studied them, head down. 

Suddenly, after looking away from Stede for hours, months, all Ed wanted was to see his eyes. 

“Mostly though, right now," Stede frowned at their hands, "I feel…angry, a bit, that we lost so much time, that it could have all been different if we’d just… said a few words here and there."

Stede finally looked up at Ed then, lips parted, his eyes searching. Ed felt energy spreading all over his body, soaring through him, big and bright, weightless and golden.

“I don’t want to lose any more time, Ed.”

Ed would have done it if Stede hadn’t kissed him first, softly, firmly, determined – decided. 

But it was Stede’s hands pressing a little deeper into his; Stede’s eyes fluttering as they drew closer to Ed’s, and Stede’s lips that made the daring leap across the divide. 

It was Stede’s declaration, his last-ditch attempt to preserve the thread between them; to say I want to fit with you. Do you want to fit with me?

And oh, how well they fit. 

A shared vibrancy between them, glittering and alive, soft and soothing. 

Touches trailing up Stede’s forearms and pulling him closer, closer; fingertips on Ed’s throat, his jaw, the velvety place beneath his earlobe.

Cool water and honesty, that radical form of safety. The sort of thing not meant to be done alone. 

A tiny sighing sound, foreheads brushing. Tears mingling, an eternity, a handful of moments, pineapple socks and heavy boots on a crumb-strewn carpet.

Words were less painful after that. Ed made his whispered apologies into Stede’s hands as he kissed them, and Stede held every one of them. Stede said that he knew they weren’t just friends. The tension burst when they both laughed at that very obvious, very Stede-like statement. 

They made, well not promises, exactly, but rather, promises to try. And that was enough. 

That was plenty. 

The room became quiet but for soft, sad music, and Ed leaned forward into Stede, heavy and wrung out, forehead on his shoulder. It was late. There was Cherry Garcia melting on the table. 

“You’ll stay here?” Stede said into his ear, not asking. 

And Ed, well. 

Ed wasn’t going anywhere. 

###

Stede was pretending to read when Ed emerged from his ensuite bathroom, fresh, hair damp, wearing borrowed sweats.

“Better?” Stede asked, closing Vienna, which he’d picked up after getting Ed all sorted for a long, hot shower. 

“Much,” Ed replied, setting his own clothes on a nearby chair. “Although I’m so tired, it actually feels like I might be floating?”

“Oh you are. I didn’t want to say anything in case you didn’t know,” Stede said lightly. “Didn't want you to feel self-conscious.”

Ed tilted his head, touched. “Aw.”

There was a sliver of a moment where neither said or did anything, and for once, it didn’t feel like a chasm of angst, or awkwardness. It felt… comfy. Stede wished he could bottle it. 

He moved first, leaning over to the side of the bed closest to Ed and pulling the comforter back. 

“Loads more room than last time,” he said, setting the book aside. “But I still expect to be squished.”

A laugh escaped Ed, breathy and relieved. 

He climbed into bed and the relief was like a gasp of air, like the touch of the cotton and the gentle yield of the mattress reached up and flicked a switch in Ed’s brain that said shhhh. 

“Ohh shit,” he moaned, only making it halfway to Stede before sinking face-down into the pillows.

“When was the last time you slept?” Stede asked the back of Ed’s head. “Like for more than five hours at a time?”

Ed rolled his head to one side so that his mouth was partially visible. 

“Thirty-five years,” he answered, sounding drunk. 

Stede’s mouth twisted up, amused. 

“Here,” he flicked off his lamp, rearranged his own pillows so they were closer to where Ed had collapsed. He nudged Ed up, and gently pulled his pillow aside, clearing the way between them. 

Ed used the very last of his energy to pull himself closer and curl up against Stede, head in the crook of his shoulder. 

He could feel Stede's heartbeat, thrumming beneath his, and silently wished they could stay, hidden, safe and happy, inside that perfect pocket of a moment forever. 

“N’night,” Ed mumbled into Stede’s chest. Stede, still smiling, bent his head low enough to press his lips into Ed’s hair, breathing in his own shampoo. 

“N’night,” Stede answered. 

There was a little more rustling of the sheets as they settled into each other, Stede wrapping his arms around the man who was already fast asleep beside him, and then gently drifting off himself, finally relaxing into the sweet epilogue of this fated night, which was now entirely dark, and entirely silent, but for the musical clockwork of their almost-touching hearts.

Chapter Text

###

Stede had spent much of his life allergic to the truth, because the truth was harsh, it hurt, and it was rarely ever fair. 

The truth looked like his father getting so angry, even though Stede really was telling it each time. 

The truth looked like Santa, forgetting to visit the year his parents went to Australia and left him with the gardener. 

The truth looked like nobody picking him for rugby, or coming to his birthday party. 

It was when his cat, Cat, wasn't really sleeping, even though she'd seemed as though she was. 

It was Mary talking to her sister on the phone, when she thought Stede wasn't home. It was Nigel, insulting him in the boardroom, and his father laughing. 

The truth, Stede had learned over the years, didn't care whether you were liked or loved. It wasn't concerned with whether or not it made you sad, or scared. It didn't matter to the truth if you couldn't handle any more of it, if you needed a break, if it made you question everything you thought you knew. 

The truth couldn't care, because the truth was just the truth. 

So, after years at the mercy of such painful objectivity, Stede had become a bit of an expert in shutting all that out. 

He'd learned that if you can sense it early enough, there's a sliver of time, a window, however small, where you can duck the truth, close your eyes and ears. 

Ignore it, and maybe – just maybe – stay OK for a little while longer. 

For most of Stede's life, the truth had rarely appeared as something that could be both harsh and comforting, scary and something he actually wanted. 

The end of one thing, and the beginning of something new. 

Until last night. 

I was in love with you

I'm fucking scared of what's next 

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll talk to you, I'll try.

How could moments of such honesty be both razor sharp and beautiful, hard to swallow, and so delicious? Stede, with all his experience avoiding the truth, couldn't begin to imagine. All he knew was that these were things he'd been waiting to hear – and hearing them felt like medicine. 

Then, that morning, Stede woke up to exactly three mind-splitting truths – only he didn't want to run from them. These ones were nice. They greeted him like the sun, streaming through his windows, casting light in soft ribbons across the covers, warm and cozy. 

The first was that Ed was there. Right there, right beside him, nuzzled to the point of suffocation into a pillow, hair frayed, a hand above his head, curled into Stede's. 

The second was that Ed wanted to be there, that he'd left and come back twice, first by plane, then on foot, right up to Stede's front door. 

And the third was the one that tugged at the corners of Stede's mouth. It compelled him to reach out with his free hand, to caress one of Ed's curls with a single finger, not wanting to wake him, but needing to touch him all the same. 

The third truth was that he, Stede Bonnet, asleep for years until he crashed into consciousness with a terrific, life-altering bang, determined to live with his eyes wide open for the rest of his days, was in love with the man in his bed. 

He knew it was true, because it scared him, felt familiarly dangerous, and seemed equally unconcerned with whether or not he was ready. 

But because of that ambivalence for his feelings, Stede believed resolutely that it meant the truth could be trusted. It wasn't some figment of his imagination, a desperate hope. 

It was real, frightening, raw, neither for or against him, but simply, what it was. 

The truth, however inconsiderate it was of Stede, was still, at least, consistent that way. 

And so laying there, in the warm, in the sunshine, hand in hand with his love, Stede saw the sliver of time, the window, was there too. He could slip into it, right then, and not have to face that third truth. It was still in his head, not quite real yet. 

But instead, with a soft rustle of skin on sheets, Stede leaned closer to Ed, smoothed a curl away from his temple, and kissed him there, nose in his hair, eyes closed, hand on his back. 

Ed stirred then, turning his head so an eye peeked out at Stede from its feathered fortress, and crinkled in the corners when he saw him. 

And just like that, the window closed, they were both in the sunshine together, wrapped warmly in a truth that Stede would welcome willingly, with arms outstretched. 

The end of one thing, and the beginning of something new. 

###

LUCIUS TEXTING STEDE

Lucius: morning. All good? Can you text me and just lmk you're ok pls? Not that I'm worried. I'm just a really, really good friend. 

###

Ed woke up to a kiss. That's how he entered the world that day. In a bed made of feathers, in a literal ray of sunshine, with someone who smelled like oranges, kissing him. 

There was a split second where he was worried that, perhaps, he wasn't awake. That he'd dreamt every heart-soaring moment of the last eight hours, and when he opened his eyes he'd be in his hotel room – or worse, his cabin in Greenland – far from Stede and back at square one. 

But when he turned and ventured a tiny peek out at the source of the kiss, when his eye focused on Stede and the thoughtful crease in his forehead, his shy smile, and the ethereal glow of his hair, backlit by the morning light, something inside Ed blossomed and he knew there was much more at play than a series of neural misfires. 

"Oh, hi," Stede whispered, as though he had only just realized Ed was there. 

"Oh hi," Ed mumbled back in kind, muffled by the pillow still partially obscuring his face. He shifted so he was on his side. "What time is it?" 

Stede rolled away momentarily to check his phone. "Early," he said, returning to Ed. "About a quarter to seven. When's your panel?" 

"Noon" Ed answered, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “When do you have to be there?”

“Oh, probably ten-thirty or so,” Stede said, doing the same. “How are you feeling?" He asked, probably meaning the jet lag. 

"Still floating," Ed replied, not meaning the jet lag. 

He curled a finger down the centre of Stede's palm. They both watched this happen for a moment, then Stede closed his hand around Ed's. 

"I'm really glad you came back," he whispered again, despite them being alone in the house.

"Me too," Ed whispered back, as though someone might overhear and take the moment away. As he continued to wake, his mind grew clearer, and with that, emotional memories of the night prior began to crystallize. 

"I’m sorry again," he said, cringing with them, "for running. Both times." 

Stede gazed at Ed for a moment, then said "I understand. I run away too, sometimes, as you know." 

While this was certainly true, it felt different to Ed. He struggled to vocalize why. 

"Yeah but you've never…" he couldn't name the unkind way he'd lashed out at Stede last night, his silence over the six months, and at Abel Tasman. Something about being afraid of Stede not wanting Ed made him need to push Stede away before that could really happen. 

He couldn't explain that to Stede though; he didn’t have the words. He just knew it, like one knows that they're awake, like one knows their likes and dislikes. It was a fact that was within him, not unclear but not yet ready to reach the surface – like the fact that Ed also knew pushing Stede away had never, not once, actually worked. 

But, he’d promised to try. So he was going to try. 

"I dunno," he continued. "When you ran, you had reasons. You could explain why. It feels, sort of, different for me. Like… everything feels out of control. And confusing. And I just have to… go. Or else.”

Stede didn't respond, just frowned slightly, listening. 

"I can't really explain it,” Ed fumbled. “I'm just fucked up, I guess is the easiest way to put it." 

Stede looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he nodded. 

"It feels that way to me sometimes," he replied. "Like I’m panicking, and maybe not… totally here. Like, the rules, the things I think I know… they change. You know?”

"Yeah," Ed said with recognition. "And then after, I look back, and I wonder how I could have ever thought some of the things I did.”

Stede didn’t react. Ed  thought about the security line in the airport. Stede's panic externalized. Ed's was always kept inside, like some sort of captive storm. 

“Is it like that for you?” 
 
"Sometimes," Stede admitted. "The out of control part, sure. But it's gotten better, last few months." 

“What changed?" 

Stede hesitated, perhaps deciding how to answer. 

"Well," he set out, carefully, "after April – after the airport – I realized I wanted things to be different. So I decided to… get some help with that." 

“From who?”

"Their name is Dr. Kewa." 

"So like a doctor?" 

"Like… a therapist," Stede corrected gently, easing into the conversation like it was a hot bath; carefully, with a fear of being burned.

Ed chewed on this, not judgemental, moreso trying to imagine Stede settled on a leather sofa, some shadowy figure taking notes. 

"What do you talk about – sorry," he grimaced. "None of my business, sorry." 

But Stede actually seemed encouraged by the question. 

"Oh, lots of things," he mused. "Everything important. Whatever might be upsetting me, things I want to work on about myself – like panic attacks." 

"Did it help?" Ed heard himself ask. 

Stede nodded, reflecting. "It does, yes. It was a bit awkward at first but now, well I rather rely on it. Especially for talking about things I need to sort through that are too confusing to do alone… and, well – you." 

Ed lifted his head off the pillow, surprised. 

"You talk about me?" 

Stede shrugged with his one free shoulder. 

"Well… Of course? Everything important,” he repeated.

Ed ignored the fluttering in his stomach and lowered his head back down again. He started playing with a tassel on one of Stede's more decorative pillows. "And what, uh, what d'you say?" 

Stede hummed as he thought, relaxed, open. Ed wondered how he did that.

"Mostly, we talk about how I feel about… well, all of it,” Stede chuckled. “My insecurities. And how I can... Stay feeling calm – level-headed, you know –and communicate better."  

Ed nodded, taking this in. "And what else?”

"Oh, uh,” Stede suddenly looked a bit shy. “Things I want. Or hope for, I guess." 

"And what do you want?" Ed asked, voice low, eyes softened. 

Just then, Ed’s stomach chose that moment to make a sound that could have been created in a lab, by a mad scientist. 

“Sorry,” he grinned sheepishly. “Maybe tell me while I make some breakfast?”

Stede laughed. "I think you'll find my pantry situation to be quite below your standard." 

Ed sat up. "I'm sure it's fine. Do you have bacon?" 

“Oh, no, nothing luxurious like that." 

"Eggs?" 

"Ha. Think smaller." 

"Bread? We can have toast." 

"Bread?!” Stede cried in disbelief. “Ed, I said, nothing fancy!" 

Ed laughed, adoring Stede, ridiculous as he was. 

"It's not fancy to keep bread in your house, Stede." 

"Maybe not, but it’s somewhat of a luxury when you're the only one around to eat it," Stede replied. "It always gets moldy." 

Ed wasn't deterred. "Alright then,” he declared, throwing the covers off him. “C’mon, we're going out." 

"OK, wow,” Stede said, alarmed at the speed with which Ed was moving. “Right this very second then."

"So I've hidden this from you up til now,” Ed said, grabbing his clothes off the chair and heading for the bathroom, “but if I don't eat immediately when I'm hungry, I become a bit of a dick." 

Stede raised an eyebrow. "You think after a week of trekking I didn't notice that?" He called to the bathroom door. "It was painfully obvious from day one!" 

"And yet," Ed said, emerging from the bathroom having thrown pants on at the speed of light, "you're still laying there acting like it's not. an. emergency," he clapped his hands at Stede for emphasis. 

"Up and at 'em Stede, let's go." 

###

STEDE TEXTING LUCIUS

Stede: I'm perfect. Thank you.

###

The morning weather was mild and Stede's neighborhood was showing signs of activity when he and Ed ambled out of his house, down the walkway – which felt very different in the light of day – and onto the sidewalk. 

Neighbors were scooping up their papers, walking their dogs, heading out for work. 

Nobody looked liked they did though, slightly disheveled in last night’s clothes, unshaven and sparkly-eyed, cheerfully chattering at each other as they made their way to Wallace Street. 

“Fidel’s for breakfast?” Stede proposed. 

“Read my mind,” Ed agreed. “What are you thinking?”

“The waffles,” Stede said decisively. “With the chicken. Every time. You?”

“I don’t care as long as it comes with the hash browns,” Ed said with a wave of his hand, laser-focused on their destination. “And the bacon. And halloumi. Eggs. And hollandaise.”

“But you don’t care,” Stede chided. 

“Nope,” Ed declared, bumping Stede with his shoulder. “As long as it’s edible, and isn’t fruit.”

“No fruit?”

“For breakfast? Nah, that stuff’ll kill you.”

“OK that's a new one, did not see that coming,” Stede chuckled, shaking his head. “An epicurean who hates fruit.”

“Yeah that's right, I contain multitudes,” Ed said with conviction. “Can’t put me in a box.”

“No, I’m sure your palate is a deep ocean of secrets,” Stede said, serious everywhere but his eyes – the same eyes that were still making Ed’s stomach drop, chasing the air out of his lungs, and prickling the hair on the back of his neck in the most excellent way. 

Ed was still rapidly taking stock of everything that had changed overnight. 

Things that had lived exclusively in his head for months were suddenly out, living and breathing, in the world and it was totally fine. 

There were no more secrets, nothing being withheld – only loads to still uncover, which they could now, because the main barrier, the everlasting adolescent question of does he like me was finally out of the way.

Ed took Stede in, walking alongside him. He was so light, so clever, so funny. Ed rolled those thoughts around his head a few times. It felt really nice to be able to lean into them with relish, rather than rebuff them, pretend not to notice, or warn himself to watch his step. 

Emboldened by this, Ed let his arm swing more freely, knocking his knuckles lightly against Stede’s, flexing his fingers, feeling out for a sense of what was OK on Stede’s street, in front of his neighbors. 

But of course, because it had been this way from the very start, an invisible, reciprocal thread between them that just always felt right – " I think we fit. We just do, " – Stede’s fingers flexed back. 

Then they were curling around his, and then Ed could feel him looking, feel the warmth from his gaze on his cheek, and then –

“DAAAD!” 

Two tiny voices shattered the still morning air just as Stede and Ed stepped onto Wallace Street, followed by two tiny bodies colliding with Stede, knocking him backward and away from Ed, a blur of pink and orange and yellow hair, just like Stede’s.

“Well good morning!” Stede cried, sparing Ed a lightning-shot, slightly worried glance before planting kisses on a pair of golden crowns. “This is a surprise! Little early for school though?”

“We’re getting pancakes!” the little one  – Louis, Ed assumed – shouted. Next to him, the bigger one – Alma, was it? – had noticed Ed, and, though facing Stede, was side-eyeing him curiously. 

“We're also getting coffee,” a new voice said wearily, strolling up behind the kids. “Buckets of it, because someone – I won't say who – decided to binge Succession last night, and – oh," she stopped when she saw Ed. He realized she must be Mary. "Hi." 

“Good morning,” Ed said, frowning inwardly – why did he suddenly feel like he had to be so formal?

"Mary, Louis, Alma,” Stede said, hoisting Louis up on his hip. “This is my um, this is Ed, from the… conference?" Stede looked to Ed for confirmation and Ed gave a tiny jerk of a shrug, because they hadn't had a chance to even talk about that kind of thing yet, and hell if he knew.

"Ed, these are my kids, Louis and Alma. Say hi guys," Stede continued. 

Louis buried his head in Stede's shoulder, and Alma gave a little wave. Mary smiled at Ed, giving him a little upward nod, but there was something else, too. A dawning of recognition, maybe. The amused look of several pieces being put together. 

"And I'm Mary," she said, stepping forward to shake his hand. 

"Nice to meet you," Ed told her, smiling back. 

“Just visiting, or–?”

“Mummy, I’m staarving,” Louis said, going limp rather dramatically and bending backward to the point of nearly falling out of Stede’s arms. 

“Can you come with us?” Alma asked Stede as he lowered Louis to the sidewalk. “Or do you have to work again?”

She gave Ed a slightly alarming glare – which made him realize she probably assumed he was part of "work," keeping her dad from any fun – and slipped her hand into Stede’s.

“Oh, erm…" Stede looked from Alma, to Louis, to Mary, then Ed. 

“Come for pancakes Dad!” Louis cheered, punching the air with both fists and barreling into Stede's middle. Stede was thoroughly charmed by this, wrapping his free arm around Louis before glancing at Ed. 

Suddenly, they were all looking at Ed. Stede, his kids, attached on either side, and Stede's ex-wife, the family that Ed had almost separated – or at least, that's how it felt to him, especially in this particular moment – waiting for him, expecting something of him, perceiving him. 

Stede tilted his head to the side, which Ed read to mean a sort of I think we should. 

“Uh,” Ed said, quite on the spot, “yeah, pancakes sound great," he glanced at Mary again, "but I've really got to get to uh, work. Because I have a talk later, so I need to…prepare.  You all go ahead, though."

"Oh, you sure?" Mary seemed almost disappointed. "It's still early, you don't have time for breakfast?" 

"Yeah, no," Ed assured her. "I'm not – not even hungry, to be honest." 

Stede raised his eyebrows at the lie. 

"You guys go on, I'll be right behind you," Stede told them. 

"OK. C'mon," Mary said, taking Louis' hand. "It was nice meeting you," she said, smiling at him, shooting a look at Stede, then corralling the kids up the street. 

"You too," Ed said, smiling back weakly. 

When they were far enough away, Stede turned to him. 

"Sorry, was that weird? They live just down the street, but I didn’t think we’d run into them like that–" 

"What? No, no it's not… weird," Ed said. "I think it's just me. I uh, wasn't expecting to meet… them. This morning."

Stede didn't look entirely satisfied with this answer, but he let it drop. 

"Are you sure you won't come with us?" he asked. "It doesn't have to be anything you don't want it to be." 

Ed believed that Stede really believed that, but the idea of pancakes with Mary and Alma figuring him out with their eyes made his skin crawl. 

"Nah, no… thanks," Ed said, cringing at how tactless and idiotic he sounded. "But it's all good, do your thing with your kids. I'll grab something on the way back."

"OK, yeah, probably too much," Stede said, trying to meet him halfway. 

"Just… unexpected." 

"Next time, then." 

"For sure," Ed agreed. "Definitely next time."

"DAAAAD," Alma's voice called from the corner up ahead, where they were waiting. 

Stede didn't seem to want to go, so Ed reached out and bopped him on the arm, very conference-friend vibes, letting him all the way off the hook. 

"Really, it's all good," he insisted. "See you later." 

"I'll be there for the panel," Stede assured him. 

"Course," Ed nodded encouragingly. "OK those kids are going to combust if you don't get moving." 

Stede still hesitated. 

"Alright," he finally said. 

Then, before Ed could blink, in front of the entire neighbourhood and his kids and Mary and the sky and the taxi cruising by, Stede leaned forward and kissed Ed goodbye. Palm to his chest, quick but not hastened, it was a kiss with a message. A punctuation to the conversation. A placeholder, a confirmation. Nothing was different. 

"See you later," Stede told him, purposefully, before turning and jogging away to join the kids. What they all thought of that, Ed didn't know, because he didn't look at them. 

Instead, he jammed his hands into his pockets and carried his lips and his hot face and his singing heart as quickly in the opposite direction as he possibly could. 

###

###

JULES TEXTING ED

Jules: Soooo

Ed: Holy shit
Jules: Yep
Ed: were you there 
Jules: No. But there were witnesses and everyone here is really pissed about it.
Ed: Are they going to shoot it
Jules: Not if the locals have anything to say about it. He literally tried to fight it. with his hands. Like an idiot. The bear was just being a bear. 
Ed: well. to be fair – the idiot was just being an idiot. 
Jules: Touche. Anyway, I wanted you to hear it directly, from me, since you two were
Jules: you know
Ed: don't
Jules: lovers
Ed: Why?? with the violence??? 
Jules: What?? I'm just trying to be sensitive. about your lover. 
Ed: fuck you so SO much
Jules: You’re lashing out. I get it. Grief is not linear
Ed: for real though. How thrilled are you right now be honest
Jules: I mean. Bro was racist, sexist, and tried to fight a fucking bear, so. 
Jules: I’m not totally heartless though - I am worried about the bear
Ed: Did it eat him? Articles doesn’t say
Jules: well. Yes and no.
Ed: Do I want to know
Jules: Let’s just say the part he tended to think with most is no longer with us. 
Jules: you may be familiar with it 
Ed: JULES. A man is dead
Jules: a man woke up, tanked a third of scotch from the bar and thought it would be a good idea to "defend his Honor"
Or so the stories say
Ed: wow
Jules: annnyway how's life? How's home? Did you do the thing
Ed: i did. I did the thing
Jules : actually though? Don't toy with me, I'm grieving and in a fragile emotional state
Jules: And then you kissed
And then you kissed right
Ed: There may have been an element of kissing
Jules: !!!!
What are you doing now? More kissing? IS HE THERE WITH YOU
ED: No
Ed: he's with his family. Having breakfast
Ed: he's got two little kids. They're cute
Jules: you met them?
Ed: yeah. We were going for breakfast and ran into them and then Stede went with them instead 
Jules: breakfast?!? going from where? 
Ed: his place 
Jules you stayed the night and you're focusing on his kids rn? Details. 
Ed: Nothing really happened. Not like that. And I’m not focusing on his kids. I just kind of forgot they existed
I mean I knew. I just also didn't really think about it?
Jules: yeah and now you remember
Ed: yeah it just makes things a bit more complicated you know
Jules no. Do not do this Ed I swear to God
Ed do what
Jules: look for ways to poke holes. You did the thing, you kissed, now kiss some more and don't over complicate things
Ed: I'm not over complicating things I just mean it's a different side of the Stede I know
Jules: ok, valid
Ed: and that makes things more complicated. so I dunno.
Jules: OH MY GOD
I wish the bear had taken me instead
It would've been less painful
Ed: wow. 

###

MATT TEXTING ED

Matt: Hey Ed! It's Matt. Wondering if you're still up for that coffee this morning? 
Ed: Hey, sure, when/where
Matt: Lobby cafe? Say 11?
Ed: Sounds good, see you then.

###

"So that was Ed," Mary said, nonchalant as she poured cream into her coffee at Fidel's, the kids happily plugged into tablets while they waited for their pancakes. 

"That was Ed," Stede agreed, feeling suddenly somewhat shy about it. Up until now, Ed had been alluded to, mentioned, but never made manifest as far as Mary was concerned. 

She'd known there was "an" Ed, and she'd known it was complicated, but for the past six months, Stede had preferred to keep Ed mostly to himself. 

It was as though going into too much detail with the only other person in the world who really knew Stede might make parts of the situation too real and therefore untenable – especially when Stede had relied on a good amount of denial to keep going. 

But, now that he and Ed had talked things through – or at least come to the delicate understanding that they didn't want to be apart, that they were more than friends – it felt real enough to bring to the surface. 

"He seemed pretty freaked out," Mary observed, pausing to slurp from her mug and savor the caffeine. "He knows you have an ex-wife and kids, right?" 

"He knows," Stede confirmed. "He just wasn't planning on meeting them so soon. I wasn't either, to be honest." 

"So soon? Didn't you meet in March?" Mary was confused. "How long have you actually been together?" 

Stede felt a little heat gathering beneath his collar.

"Well, I suppose if you were to get technical about it… eight or nine hours?" 

Mary's eyebrows shot up. "Oh."

"It's a long story," Stede told her. "But we might finally be in the same place at the same time. Or getting there, at least."

"OK, then yeah, meeting the family at the eight hour mark– a bit quick," Mary agreed. 

"It's strange though," Stede added. "Nothing with Ed has ever felt very tied to time. It was kind of… instant, then suspended, and now it's just… back? If that makes sense?" 

They sipped from their mugs for a moment, Mary clearly rolling this new information around in her head. 

"So if time hasn't been a factor, what happened between March and eight hours ago?" she finally asked. 

Stede didn't know where to start. "So, so much, honestly, and yet also – almost nothing? Mostly it was me being me, and him… being him, I suppose." 

"Ha. So then you, avoiding uncomfortable feelings, and him…?"

"Avoiding uncomfortable feelings as well," Stede filled in. He considered this, weighing it against everything that had been said the night before. "To be fair, there was some fear and a fair amount of heartache in there as well." 

The pancakes arrived, and they took a break to reorient the kids, cutting things into bite-size pieces for Louis, then arguing with the kids about how much syrup was "enough" syrup. 

"Well it sounds like things are better?" Mary circled back, digging into her own stack with double the approved amount of syrup herself. "Especially if he's spending the night and staying – well, almost staying – for breakfast."

"It feels better than it did a week ago," Stede agreed. "It's never felt like we've followed a particular set of rules though, so breakfast may not be the best metric." 

"Are you guys talking about your boyfriend?" Alma piped up, curious now that her tablet had been tucked away. 

"What makes you say that Ed is my… boyfriend?" Stede asked Alma patiently, holding the word boyfriend momentarily on his tongue. 

"Because you were kissing and that's what boyfriends do," Alma said as though it were the most obvious fact in the world. 

"People have lots of different kinds of relationships," Mary swooped in. "Girlfriends and boyfriends don't really cover all the variables, so you should ask people before you tell them what they are." 

"Do you both want to hold hands?" Alma ignored her, her knife and fork poised over her plate. 

"Yes," Stede said too quickly; like his nine year-old, he too, was seeking clarity. 

"Then you're boyfriends," Alma said decisively, returning to her breakfast having solved the simplest of equations.

"Darling," Stede asked, waiting for her to look up. "How does that sit with you, me having a… boyfriend?" 

Alma finished what was in her mouth before answering: "Does he make you feel happy?" 

Mary and Stede exchanged the bewildered looks unique only to caregivers whose children are constantly surprising them. 

"He does," Stede answered evenly, careful not to apply too much emotion not wanting to influence Alma's position. "But I asked you how you felt about it." 

Alma looked from Mary to Stede. 

"Well, you're always kind of sad. So if a boy makes you happy, then I'm happy too." 

Alma returned to her breakfast without another word, totally unmoved, thoroughly unreadable. 

Stede turned to Mary again, still bowled over. 

"I'm not always sad, am I?" he asked her. She scrunched her face up at the question. 

"I mean, not 'boo hoo', sad," she told him. "But you give off a bit of a sad vibe sometimes, yeah."

"Like when you think we're not looking," Alma added. "You make a sad sort of face." 

"Yeah like this," Louis chimed in, executing a perfect, contemplative 'sad Stede' stare into the distance and promoting praise from Mary and Alma. 

"Well how long has this been going on?" Stede demanded. "And when were you all going to tell me?" 

Mary looked at Alma, as though to say It's OK. 

"I mean, kind of… always?" she told her father. "But less lately, if that helps." 

Stede was at a loss for words. "Well for what it's worth I don't think I'm sad all the time." 

The look of pity he received from his family then put him off his pancakes. Alma, sensing this, reached across the table and took his hand. 

"It's fine dad," she assured him. "We still love you." 

"Yeah!" Louis agreed. 

Stede squeezed Alma's hand back. "Thank you. I love you guys too." 

He watched as the kids ate for a moment, then glanced at Mary in time to see  a strange expression, smug and satisfied, pass over her face, 

"What?" Stede asked. 

"Just you," she said. "Just how you are now. With them, with us. Here, present." 

"Oh come on it can't be that different," Stede scoffed. "I've always been around."

"Yeah but never here , Stede, not really." 

Stede must have put on his sad look then, because this time it was Mary who reached across the table. 

"You know, since March, it's been feeling like one Stede left to go be a guide, and a very different Stede came back." 

Mary lowered her voice, not meaning the kids to be involved in this part.

"And this new Stede, he wanted to change. And then that new Stede just kept changing, kept growing , figuring things out – wanting to figure things out." 

She grinned, still smug and satisfied. 

"So at first I thought it was because of me, because of that talk we had that day at the hotel – do you remember? I thought maybe I'd actually, finally gotten through to you."

"You did," Stede insisted. 

"Nope," she shook her head, smiling at some private joke, resting her chin in her palm. "I figured out pretty fast that it wasn't anything I did, not really – something else had gotten a hold of you. I just didn't know what." 

Then Mary gave Stede a look he'd never seen before, wasn't even sure what he'd call it. It felt nice. 

"Now though, I think I finally do."

###

###

"Ugh, thanks for doing this," Matt stood as he greeted Ed with his arms spread wide, his tone endlessly grateful, almost apologetic. "What're you having? My treat." 

"Oh, cheers mate, I’m fine," Ed replied, a bit uncomfy at Matt's gregariousness and still not fully certain why he agreed to do this in the first place. 

No, that was a lie. He knew exactly what he was doing there. 

"Two teas," Matt said when the server popped round. "And two of those really yummy looking chocolatey tart things in the counter there," he added, saying to Ed, "I'm a total nut for chocolate. Don’t make me pig out alone." 

"Alright, twist my arm," Ed smiled politely.

"Isn’t Summit great?" Matt said once the server disappeared with their order. He gestured to the bustling atmosphere of the hotel lobby. "This part is my favorite, when you can just meet up with cool people for a quick bite, strike up partnerships, get around the red tape. Sometimes it can take weeks to nail down a guide for an in-person meeting, you're always all so busy. We usually have to go through operations teams…”

Ed took Matt in as he prattled on. He was extremely cheery without being cloying, in a way that didn't seem put on or nervous at all. Some shitty recess of Ed’s mind noted that his obliviously peppy demeanor reminded him of someone else, and that it made sense they’d have some sort of history. 

“Oh, speaking of Ops, how do you know Stede?” Matt asked, conversationally, as though reading Ed’s mind. “Through Bonnet Adventures?”

“Uh, yes, actually,” Ed heard himself answer. “We led a tour together back in March.”

“Oh really? I didn’t know he guided – he’s always looked terribly suited up and professional whenever I see him around,” Matt said, a small smile playing on his lips as though he was remembering. 

“Yeah, he guides,” Ed told him. “He’s a fucking great guide, actually.”

“Well now that you’ve said it, that actually makes a lot of sense,” Matt replied, nodding politely at the server when they brought their order. “Those manners, that humor – and he’s so clever. I could definitely see him charming people up a mountain or two.”

Ed cleared his throat, which had become very dry. He hurried to doctor his tea.  

“You… know him pretty well then?” he had to ask, hating himself for it.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Matt shrugged. “But you know how this business is – and it’s a small town, too. First, you’re at the same trade shows or product launches. And since Stede’s new at Tino Tours, he’s at all the functions. Then you’re going to the same bar."

"‘Course,” Matt added with a roll of his eyes, “being as effortlessly cool as I am, it only took me a few of those run-ins and more than a few gin and tonics before I could actually say anything to him.”

“And then what happened?” Ed blurted, trying to hide his tone behind his teacup. 

Matt furrowed his brow at Ed, perplexed and amused and still smiling. “Well… you did.”

Ed choked on his drink, poorly managing to cover it as a cough. 

“Yeah, Stede told me not too long ago that there was 'a someone,'" Matt explained, his voice kind. “And then I saw you yesterday, how you were together... I mean it was pretty obvious. So I don't know what he told you, but I figured I should clear the air before we get down to business – it'd be weird for me not to, right?"

Ed shifted in his seat, not knowing where to look or what to do with his hands.

“Relax, it’s fine,” Matt laughed, placing a hand on the table to emphasize the point. “Nothing really happened, he was pretty upfront about it. Story of my life, to be honest. And really, I wasn't even surprised. Someone like Stede is – well,” he gestured at Ed, “you know.”

“What?” Ed asked, still catching up. 

“Well, different," Matt shrugged with a knowing look. "Special. Men like him just have… a way. And, just my luck, they're also perpetually unavailable."

Then he shook his head. “Ugh, listen to me. Sorry Ed – I’m a tourism guy – baggage just comes with the territory, you know? OK, wow. Now I’m doing travel puns – I swear this isn’t why I asked you here. Bottom line: Best of luck to you both, really. Onward and upward for me!”

Ed just stared. 

“Alright, enough theatrics,” Matt clapped his hands, suddenly back to being breezy. “Listen, you’ve got to go soon, so let me just get to it before I completely embarrass myself.”

Ed should have been very annoyed by Matt, but there was something about how self-effacing – how sincere and honest he was about Stede – that made him almost… likable. It was disarming. 

“Now, I heard you, Ed, when you said yesterday that you’re not much of a promotions guy,” Matt began, having assumed what seemed to be a more serious, salesy, “business” persona. “But I also know you’ve been in the expedition game a long time, probably nearing your post-physical phase – and Tourism New Zealand would love to kick that off with you.”

“Post-physical phase?” Ed had never heard that before. 

“The later stage of your career,” Matt explained, “where guides, well, guide less, and move more into management or influence. It’s pretty common among expedition guides ah, your age.”

Yeah, Ed decided, that was definitely not a thing.

“Mate, I know guides who are in their sixties and don’t have plans to slow down,” Ed scoffed. “So I don’t see myself entering a ‘post-physical phase’ anytime soon.”

“Fair, but have you noticed what work looks like for those guides?” Matt reasoned. “Because in my experience, it’s taking a lot of anti-inflammatories and losing contracts out to younger pros. Expedition work is tough on the body, and you’re only human.”

Ed took this in, and couldn't help but reflect on the pharmacy of ibuprofen and acetaminophen he'd consumed in Greenland alone. Matt paused to take a bite of his tart. 

“Holy shit,” he said through a mouthful of chocolate. “So good – try it, seriously. Anyway. Most guides after fifty – the really successful ones anyway– have their own operations up and running, they lead a few tours a year and hire young blood to do the rest, and then sit back and let the money roll in. Now – you haven’t gone and done anything like that yet, have you?”

“Uh, no,” Ed replied, not sure why he suddenly felt embarrassed. “I’ve always preferred to freelance – more interesting opportunities, less headaches.”

“And a totally valid choice,” Matt assured him. “Until the work dries up. And obviously, you’re still a ways from that Ed – but what I’m saying in a very long-winded and drawn out way is, I see a lot of potential for your post-physical phase. You would be perfect as an ambassador for the country.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Ed said. “I mean, sure, I complain about work a lot but I can’t really imagine doing anything else. And I’m working more with food now, which has been interesting–”

“OK, clearly I’m doing a shit job of explaining this so let me paint you a picture,” Matt cut in, a little of the cheeriness in his voice being replaced with a touch of more edge. 

“In 2023-24, we’re launching our new Adventure Aotearoa campaign. We’re planning it to be a decade-long project, possibly the most ambitious one we’ve ever done, and I – the whole team, really – want you to be at the heart of it. Guiding three tours a year, anywhere in the country you want, however you want to guide them – and we’d pay you far more for those three trips than you’re making now in a year. 

"Then, the rest of the job is just media relations, panel talks, and jet-setting off to global trade shows as the face of the destination. Hotels, food, transportation – all of it covered, and on a salary, with benefits, on top of whatever you make guiding.”

Matt was using big hand gestures, exciting himself at the description. 

“And if you’re into food, well, we’d make that work too. Maybe a few well-publicized residencies at some top lodges: Huka, Treetops, Minaret Station?” 

Now that got Ed’s attention, and Matt noticed.

“That’s right!” Matt pointed at Ed’s face. “New Zealand could be your oyster Ed, your guaranteed, all-expenses paid, retirement plan of an oyster – all for the low, low price of you, just showing up and being your cool, outdoorsy self.”

“OK,” Ed finally had to ask. “I get it, you’ll basically do anything to get me to be your poster boy. But – why ? You guys usually go for movie stars. I'm not getting the pivot."

Matt smiled, a broad, warm smile, and leaned across the table. 

“Ed, did you even read Frenchie’s article? You are a star. Smart, experienced, handsome – exactly the kind of guy people want leading them across Tongariro. Yes, we usually contract celebrities, but Adventure Aotearoa will appeal to high-income, survivorman LARPers with way less skill than money. The Silicon Valley crowd. They don't care about celebrities – they want experiences that feel so authentic you almost can't tell they're engineered. So there has to be a level of authenticity to the offering, or else they’re all going to keep flocking to Jackson Hole and Patagonia.”

Ed sighed. “So you want someone who actually knows what they’re doing, but –”

“Looks like a movie star, exactly,” Matt interrupted, grinning smugly. “That’s you, buddy. And it will be a sweet gig. Think helicopters and cliffside five-star dining. Think mountain climbing with Kjus and Matteo linens.”

Ed had to admit that did not sound like the worst job in the world – particularly if he could design the tours himself, and cook at Minaret. But he still felt skeptical. It still didn’t make sense to him that the richest tourism board in the hemisphere – home to the Adventure Capital of the World – needed him to convince tech billionaires to try their luck on Aoraki. He told Matt as much. 

“You're absolutely right, we have a great reputation, great product,” Matt agreed. “But my job isn’t to address the present – it’s to anticipate and provide for the needs of the destination's future . And I think that what our future visitors will want is someone just like you.”

"OK but what does that mean?" Ed asked. He'd been an in-demand guide for decades. Why was the tourism board just now taking notice? 

Matt seemed to switch gears then. He studied Ed for a moment, drumming his fingers on the tabletop, seeming to decide something. Then, his confident, easygoing smile returned and he leaned onto his elbows, as though telling Ed a secret. 

“Ed, you're a clever guy so I'm going to level with you. I don’t have to tell you that the landscape for tourism has really changed since 2020, and well, people are more judicious about where they spend their money. Destinations like ours are being held to totally new standards – how they care for natural resources, how they approach history, how they treat their populations. That means when we promote ourselves, we need to be really intentional about representation."

There it was. Ed felt a familiar sinking feeling in his sternum. 

“So to do that, we need a seasoned professional, but also a forward thinker. A charismatic leader. Someone who–”

“Is Māori,” Ed interrupted, not even really meaning to say it aloud. But Matt held up his hands and made a clownish face that said you got me. 

“Obviously that’s not the only reason,” he told Ed. “I meant what I said about your years of experience, your expertise – that’s all part of it. You being tangata whenua , well, that’s just a particularly well-timed bonus.”

“You want an Indigenous ambassador so people can see how woke this country is,” Ed said flatly. He didn’t know what he hated more – the truth that was slowly unveiling itself, or the fact that he was surprised and disappointed about it. 

“Exactly! And how exciting is that, really?” Matt insisted. “Celebrating our Māori culture through the lens of wilderness and adventure, through the eyes of an accomplished expert – that’s diversity and inclusion, that's–”

“--Tokenism,” Ed finished. 

“Oh, don’t be so short-sighted Ed,” Matt scolded him cheerfully. “Think of the bigger picture. We could show the world what adventure tourism should be like – run in collaboration with the original guardians of the land. It’s the future – what Aotearoa needs – and it’s what tourists are increasingly interested in seeing – even if they don’t realize it yet. I mean, New Zealand already has a great global reputation for its Indigenous relations – you’d be taking that to a new level. Pioneering a new path to touristic excellence!”

Ed coughed a laugh. Great reputation? Pioneering? Across from him, Matt was poised for a positive reaction, clearly thinking he may have landed the deal. 

“What do you say, Ed?” he asked. “Do you want to be at the forefront of our country's charge into a brave new world of Indigenous-led tourism?”

"Yeah, no, sounds super colonial and fun." Ed stood up, reminding himself to breathe, to keep a hold on the roiling anger in his gut. He silently cursed himself for thinking anyone from Tourism New Zealand could possibly be likable.

“Well Matt, you made quite a compelling case,” he said, digging a few dollars out of his wallet for the tea. “Really pulled out all the stops. Whoever you rope into doing it is going to, well, have an interesting ten years. But… I’m afraid that’s going to be a pass from me. You can have that," he gestured to his untouched dessert.

“What? Wait wait wait,” Matt cried, his eyes bright, genuinely confused. “I haven’t even told you what we’d pay you. Stick around for that, at least.”

“Nah,” Ed pushed his chair in and grabbed his bag off the floor. “I’m good. Thanks, though.”

“OK hold on,” Matt said, standing too. “You don’t have to make a decision now. But – just think of how great this could be for Māori in tourism – your people, Ed. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to make a difference on an international scale – become an example of what it looks like when Indigenous people are given a voice – maybe even change the system from the inside! Honestly, I think walking away from this would be a huge mistake.”

Ed pressed his lips together and slung his bag over his shoulder. “Welp. I guess I’ll just have to live with that.”

Chapter Text

JULES TEXTING ED

Jules: Speaking of painful
Is today the panel?
Ed: it is
Jules: good luck
Ed: thanks
Jules: Knock em dead
Ed: sure
Jules: Do it for jack
Ed: middle finger
Jules: 🖤
Ed: 🖤

###

ADVENTURE CREW CHAT

John: GOOD LUCK ED
Olu: break a leg!
Swede: I don't know what you're talking about but I'm excited for Ed!
Pete: Don't forget to put in a good word for media
Roach: Ed we're proud of you
Jim: super proud. Don't make it weird tho
Frenchie: I don't think he's really on this chat guys
Ed: I'm here 
Olu: HE LIVES
Lucius: well then GOOD LUCK, don't do anything embarrassing bc people will probably be recording with their phones. That shit does scrub off
Ed: Inspiring. thanks for the luck... I think 

###

By the time noon rolled around, Ed had managed to squeeze most of his residual anger and bewilderment from his meeting with Matt into an out-of-the-way place inside himself, which he planned to sort through later. 

For now, he needed to grapple with the overwhelming realization that he was about to go on stage in front of a large group of people – something he’d all but forgotten that he hated , and was actually quite bad at. 

“Alright man?” Frenchie found him backstage, loitering near the stairs to the stage. “How’s it feeling?”

“Bad Frenchie,” Ed rounded on him, eyes wide, his nerves rising high in his throat. “It’s feeling bad . Remind me to murder you later for talking me into this. I hate this shit.”

Frenchie rolled his eyes. “God, you’re dramatic. Why are you freaking out? Listen. No matter what happens, this gig got you here, all expenses paid, which was the entire point. So say whatever you want, man. Say nothing, even. You can’t fuck this up – you’ve already been paid.”

Ed nodded, taking this in, yes, OK, Frenchie was right. All Ed had to do was make it through 30 minutes of mindless chatter about tourism. He could do that. It had been one hell of a cosmic joke of a morning, so it would probably be best if he just let the others do all the talking anyway. 

“Well if it isn’t motherfuckin’ Teach.” 

Jackie Jones stepped into the backstage area, looking spectacular in a double breasted, neon purple suit.  

“How’ve you been?” she asked him, clapping his hand into a solid shake hello. “When I saw they landed you for this thing, I thought you must owe money, or be dying from a tumor or something. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you inside a ballroom.”

Ed grinned. As great a guide as she was, Jackie had always been so much better at the schmoozing side of things than Ed; never afraid play the business game in the interest of gaining traction. As a result, Tino Tours had solid investor relationships, a dedicated global customer base and used its clout to partner with community groups to train youth in outdoor survival and hospitality skills. Jackie also ran a mentorship pairing program, pairing the trainees with larger tour companies to secure them jobs as guides. Ed had a lot of respect for that; it was the sort of program he'd have loved to have around when he was young. 

“I could have a tumor,” Ed replied, a little more at ease. “I can’t think of what else would convince me to do something as stupid as this.”

Jackie barked a laugh. “I heard they gave you a plane ticket, a suite and a stipend – so it sounds like you’re doing just fine. Jackie didn’t get any of that shit. Jackie's here pro bono. So quit bitching."

“It’s good to see you,” Ed replied, still grinning. “Oh, have you met Frenchie?”

“OK Ed, Jackie,” Amelia, the ATS executive who had contacted Ed to do the panel in the first place, appeared at Jackie’s elbow. “Just wanted to do a quick rundown of the talking points before we go up there.”

“Where's Nigel?” Jackie asked as Frenchie ducked away to find his seat, mouthing kill it at Ed before he went. 

“Oh, Mr. Badminton is old hat at these things,” Amelia explained. “He’ll be here right before we go on. Now ATS wants this to be about the future of adventure travel, and how it will impact every part of the business. Of course it goes without saying that we’re also interested in a - a diversity of perspectives.”

Ed and Jackie exchanged looks. 

“So questions are going to be something like: ‘What’s exciting you about this business today?’ ‘what are some trends that we can expect to roll out in the next five years?’ ‘How are visitor profiles expected to evolve,’ things like that.”

“Any particular points you want made?” Jackie asked. 

“Well, obviously we’d love for the underscoring message to be how perfect a destination New Zealand is for adventure travelers who still appreciate creature comforts,” Amelia explained. 

“And maybe you can mention too, how primed we are as a destination for high-income adventurers.”

“The Silicon Valley crowd,” Ed offered. Amelia pointed at him, thrilled. 

“Exactly! Oh, Mr. Badminton, welcome,” she became even more hospitable as a grimacing man in a crisp suit joined them. 

On the other side of the curtain, a voice was inviting conference attendees to take their seats; that the panel discussion was about to start. 

“All set? Any questions?” Amelia asked. 

“How long can we expect this to be?” Badminton drawled at her. “I have a lunch at 12:15.”

“Well, the uh, the panel is due to be over at one thirty,” Amelia said carefully. “Someone must have forgotten to tell you…”

"Good to see the ATS is still attracting the very best in corporate sponsorships," Ed muttered to Jackie while Amelia placated Badminton. 

“Bonnet Adventures paid for everything this year,” Jackie muttered back. “Nigel there is going to be on stage talking about the business all week, he’ll be guest of honor on closing night; this is basically that fool's birthday party.”

Ed was just about to flip his phone off when it pinged. 

###

STEDE TEXTING ED

Stede: Frenchie said you're nervous
whenever I have to give a presentation , I try to just look at one person. it helps tone everyone else out 
so if you need to, just talk to me!
Stede: I'll be your person 
Stede: I'm in the third row
Stede: I'm not going to say you'll do great because it honestly doesn't matter –no matter how it goes, I'm taking you for ice cream after. 

###

Ed forgot where he was for a moment, only that he felt much, much better. As he moved to respond, Amelia appeared. 

“OK, that’s us,” Amelia said, hurrying up the stairs and holding the curtain open for them. “Break legs, everyone!” 
 
“C’mon Teach,” Jackie straightened her lapels and stepped in front of Ed. “Time to sing for your supper.”

###

ED TEXTING STEDE

Ed: 🖤
I like you. 

###

Ed ignored the high-pitched buzzing in his head and focused on breathing as he followed Jackie up the stairs and onto the stage. 

The main ballroom was packed. The sound of applause filled his ears as Ed and Jackie took their seats, watching as Badminton waited until the very last minute to step out on stage, his face transforming as it left the shadows from deadpanned to bright and pleasant, waving to the audience, a picture of humility. 

Amelia took her place in the host chair as a PA handed Ed, Jackie and Nigel each a wireless microphone. 

“Welcome, everyone,” Amelia greeted the sea of faces. “Thank you for coming, we’re very excited to be in the presence of some of our industry’s most accomplished professionals today.”

While Amelia rattled off the panelists’ backgrounds, spending an extra long time listing the accomplishments of Badminton, Ed scanned the audience until he saw Stede, seated between Lucius and Jim, right in the third row. 

Catching his eye, Stede paired his grin with a very endearing wink, and Ed's stage fright mingled with butterflies of a different kind. 

“... Which brings me to my first question," Amelia's voice wafted into Ed's head bringing him back into the present. 

"What would you say is New Zealand's greatest strength when it comes to adventure tourism? Let's start with you, Nigel." 

"Well obviously, New Zealand is in the unique position of being an incredibly biologically diverse, incredibly wealthy, incredibly young country," Badminton answered, addressing the audience. 

"It was settled quite recently, compared to similar places, and that means that it's more progressive in its policies, less developed than other countries, and has the means to maintain its natural resources in a way that preserves them while also profiting from them. Its greatest asset is its biodiversity, and how relatively untouched it is compared to other adventure destinations."

"Yes, we've certainly done a good job of evolving sustainably, and retaining our most valuable assets," Amelia agreed. "Ed? Jackie?" 

"I would argue that Aotearoa New Zealand's greatest adventure asset is its people," Jackie lobbed back smoothly. "We have some of the finest guide talent in the world, I can attest to that personally."

"Yes, we've got some truly great people in this business," Amelia gushed. "Many of whom are right here in this room!" 

At this, the audience burst into rowdy, self-congratulatory applause. Jackie played into the love, pointing at select people in the audience. 

"Yeah I'm talking about you Fang," she called into the mic at someone in the room, laughing at an unseen response. 

Amelia moved on to the next question, something about reflections on the intersection of adventure and luxury travel, which Badminton bogarted with a five-minute long answer. Questions continued, examining topics like environmental stewardship, emerging international markets, trends. 

Ed pitched in where he felt obliged, but he was happy to let Jackie spar with Badminton, and didn't want to get in the way. He agreed with pretty well everything she said anyway, and didn't feel he had much to contribute. 

Amelia felt differently. 

"OK, let's hear from our resident expeditionary expert," she said in a game show voice. "Ed, you were quoted in a recent article criticizing the way some New Zealand tour operators portray the country's history. Can you talk a little bit about how we can do better with that, in the face of rising social consciousness around race relations?"

Ed’s mouth fell open. What the fuck? 

He glanced at Jackie, whose eyebrows had shot up in surprise at the sudden shift from softball questions. He scanned the audience again for Stede's face, his grounding source, but caught sight of Matt, instead. He was in the second row, a few seats down from Stede. Upon seeing Ed, he shot him an encouraging two thumbs up. 

"Uh, well," Ed lurched toward his mic, knowing he'd delayed too long, "I think that's a pretty big question to be answered by a single person. I suppose if I'm critical about how our industry is telling people this country's story, it's because there are a lot of voices that get erased from that narrative, usually on purpose. So if we're talking about doing better with that as the starting point, I'd say: actually share the full history. Acknowledge how colonization impacted people – how it's still impacting people, and places. Don't leave out whatever's inconvenient, or uncomfortable, or makes your company look bad. Learn the full history of the regions you're operating in, find out what it's like for the people who live there now, and I don’t know – tell the truth?"

Ed realized he was scowling, and forced himself to lean back in his seat. 

"That'd be a start," he informed Amelia, forcing a more casual tone. There was a gaping silence in the crowd, but then a single row started to clap. 

Lucius whooped, Roach whistled, and Jim, looking around threateningly, coerced a few others in the vicinity to join in with scattered, half-hearted applause. 

Ed lowered the mic and smiled gratefully at his friends, wishing he could sink into the floor. 

"OK, I mean, I have so many follow-up questions, but we should probably keep things moving," Amelia said with a shaky laugh, forcing her own decidedly not uncomfortable tone. 

The rest of the panel went by in a strange sort of blur, whereby Amelia would ask a pandering question, Badminton would answer it by plugging something new with Bonnet Adventures, and Jackie would provide an actually insightful answer. Ed stayed as quiet as Amelia would allow. 

But then they neared the end, and Amelia asked "Nigel, what, in your mind, is New Zealand’s greatest missed opportunity when it comes to adventure tourism?”

"So glad you asked that Amelia," Badminton answered, having warmed up considerably in the limelight. "Now, I'm loathe to criticize anything about this spectacular field, as we're so privileged to do what we do, but if you're to press me, I'd have to say we are abso lutely missing an opportunity when it comes to capitalizing on the cultural offerings of our country."

For the last ten minutes, Ed had been oscillating between zoning out with the microphone against his forehead, and having funny little eyebrow conversations with Stede. But this caught his ear. 

"Interesting, can you expand on that a little?" Amelia leaned forward, entranced. 

"Well it's no secret that our Māori people are in possession of one of the most colourful and exotic cultures in the hemisphere. They were warriors, royalty, carvers. And yet, in tourism, we reduce the culture to a shadow of what it was. Visitors come here, they see a haka, perhaps they eat a hāngi, maybe sleep in a marae. But do they leave with a real understanding of the culture? Do they leave with a knowledge of carving, of pounamu, of weaving?"

Ed and Jackie looked at each other, both surprised, neither knowing where this was going. 

"I mean, these are all beautiful traditions, fundamental to our country's identity, and with incredible marketable value." 

Badminton flashed Ed a smile. 

"See, I agree with Mr. Teach, here. This country is full of tour operators who glaze over our history, our relationship with Māori, and if they only applied themselves to understanding our Indigenous people better, they could be promoting cultural experiences in concert with their existing adventure product."

Ed lifted his mic to his mouth, but Badminton didn’t leave a gap. 

"There is an enormous crossover opportunity here. I'll give an example while also delivering some exciting news. In 2023, Bonnet Adventures will be launching a new tour, 'Māori & Mountains," where guests will experience our forests, our mountains, in the way New Zealand’s Māori people used to experience them. Eat like they used to, journey like they used to. I won't get into the details because, well, loose lips," Badminton held a finger to his mouth and paused for the ripple of appreciative laughter that followed. 

Ed became aware he was gripping the arms of his chair. 

"But what I can say is that by offering this new, never-before-done experience, we will be employing over a dozen Māori guides and interpreters, partnering with local carvers, and shedding some much-needed light on our vastly underappreciated Indigenous culture."

He nodded graciously when the audience responded with polite applause. 

"I– wow," Amelia looked from Badminton to the audience. "Remarkable insights and the surprise unveiling of a new Bonnet Adventures tour! Nigel, I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that it sounds like Bonnet Adventures is paving the way toward a very exciting, innovative future for New Zealand – I mean, Aotearoa." 

Badminton held a hand up to stem the applause. 

"Well you see Amelia, this isn't particularly innovative – it's just late. This is what people, global travelers, have been asking after for years, according to our research. They're interested in delving deep into the local Indigenous cultures of their destinations, wherever they’re travelling, and experiencing them with authenticity…"

As Badminton continued, Ed couldn't help it – he looked down at Matt, who clearly had been waiting for him to do so, because he craned his neck toward Ed with a you see? little shrug, squirming for how excited he was.

Ed felt ill. His head had gone back to ringing. He looked out at the sea of people filling the ballroom. Easily over a hundred travel professionals, all clapping and nodding and agreeing with Badminton. Moved by his words, inspired by his vision, basking in their perceived collective progression. 

"...and most importantly," Badminton’s voice floated back into his head, jovial, passionate, maybe even believing his own bullshit, "these are experiences that guests will gladly pay very dearly for. Premium experiences. And they're at our fingertips. They always have been." 

Badminton stopped then, bowing his head with reverence, pressing his hands together in a prayer position, mic held in them, in thanks to the audience, which was now roaring. Matt's hands were smashing above his head. 

Ed looked to Stede. Stede looked back, worried, his face folded into a pitying sort of look that made Ed feel worse. 
 
Amelia allowed the applause to go on for some time, while Ed's head keened along with it, his throat tight, his heart on fire, caught somewhere between wanting to cry and – well, why the fuck not. 

Despite the mic being hot, Ed's words were initially lost in the din. Amelia saw him speak though, and once the audience had quieted enough for her to do so, she nodded at him. 

"Sorry, Ed, did you have something to add?" 

"I said , we are not a commodity," Ed said, louder this time, right into the mic, head bent. 

Any remnants of applause immediately ceased. 

"And we’re not some kind of historical attraction either," Ed said, this time to the audience. Amelia lifted her microphone, but Ed shook his head at her. 

"So stop saying 'our Māori,' like we're all a single fucking entity that belongs to you and stop talking about us in the past tense like we don't still fucking exist." 

"Mr. Teach," Badminton smiled, raising his hand good-naturedly, trying to calm a child. "Edward. That's absolutely not what I –" 

"You're bragging about employing Māori, like that's the answer?” Ed talked right over him. “How about investing in Māori so that we can run our own fucking tour companies? Well. We all know why," Ed gazed out over the audience. He was sitting ramrod straight, defiant, daring someone to stop him while also, somehow, lost in himself, lost in years of keeping quiet about what he saw, what he heard, what he knew, and what was never, ever acknowledged.

"I mean, why make room at the top when you can just take 60% of what we earn leading tours for you at the bottom ?" 

The nerves that had been keeping Ed withdrawn up to this point had been replaced with a cool clarity, a simmering rage and a blissful absence of impulse. He didn’t care about consequences, about staying safe. He was being fueled by Matt, and everyone like Matt. Fueled by Nigel. Fueled by Jules, whom he was channeling, remembering how she would talk to guests about Arctic issues with a thoughtful, steely, calm. 

"Tourism is this country’s biggest export earner. It gets all kinds of global attention for its 'Indigenous relations,' whatever that means," Ed cast a meaningful look at Matt, "and yet, Māori are completely underrepresented in industry leadership. The people in power, like you, Nigel, sit around talking about promoting and celebrating Māori in tourism, as though we aren’t already out there, doing that work just fine on our own. As though we haven’t all been right here with the rest of you right from the very start.”

He looked squarely at Nigel then, relishing the grey, furious humiliation on his face. 

“Well, guess what,” Ed said with a twisted smile. “None of the iwi in Aotearoa need anyone’s help to connect our cultures with visitors. We just need you to get the hell out of our way.”

In the audience, someone whistled their approval. Ed barely registered it as Olu. 

“And who says we want iwi cultures to be the centre of Māori-led tourism, anyway? Maybe some of us just want to guide – teach visitors to appreciate nature. Not all Māori want to be defined by carving, or haka, or weaving – no matter how lucrative that may seem to you.” 

"And I know there are people here right now thinking 'oh Ed, maybe there aren’t enough Māori-owned businesses, sure, we still have a long way to go, but every little bit helps, right? Jobs for Māori are still jobs, right?’ Well, no." 

Ed took a steadying breath, shaking his head slowly at the audience. "It's. Not. Enough ."

He chanced a look back at Stede and found the sad, worried look had been wiped away, replaced by – was it awe? Ed fed on that. 

“Ed,” Amelia said quietly, finally. “What would be enough?”

Ed turned to her.

"When we get to a point where there are so many Māori-owned businesses that you can't choose your favourite, then we can talk about what we're achieving. When the visitors who come here are learning te reo before they arrive, then we can talk about forward movement. But until manuhiri are giving 100% of what they spend experiencing our culture to Māori-owned operations, and until all the people in this room start referring to specific iwi when they’re talking about ‘Māori’ tourism," Ed paused for emphasis, "any perceived 'progress' in this industry means nothing – because it's at the expense of us, not in the best interest of us – no matter what you say," he finished, looking down at Matt now, who was no longer smiling. 

The silence in the room was deafening. All eyes on Ed. His worst nightmare – one he actually had from time to time, although he was fully dressed in this case – made real. Ed could feel the walls starting to loom over him, but he wasn’t quite finished yet.

"The system cannot be changed from the inside," Ed said, softer this time, just to Matt. "The problems I’m talking about – they're not going to be solved by the same system that created them in the first place. So… stop trying to make us fit into that system and just- just make space for us to succeed – to breathe – on our own terms."

That's when the focus pulled and Ed ran out of rope. 

The ballroom was a void, choked into silence on Ed's words. 
 
The anger that had coursed through him moments ago had drained out and was being rapidly replaced with a more familiar old friend, panic. 

A humming panic, and a hyper awareness of where he was, who he was with, and what he had just said. 

Then, someone started clapping, the sound echoing out into the ballroom. It wasn't Stede. It wasn't even coming from the audience. 

It was Jackie, slowly bringing her hands together, head nodding, looking pissed off. She sped up her clapping, and glared at the audience. The third row joined in, and then, like a ripple, whether obligatory or an unlikely awakening, applause spread throughout the audience. Jackie stood up then, still clapping, hard, glaring this time at Ed, approving. The room stood with her. 

Only Badminton sat still, sinking, in a way, back into the shadows. Everywhere else in the room, Ed's truth to power was being echoed back at him, while he sat, stock still and in shock, submerged in applause. 

Overwhelmed, he darted his eyes down to find Stede, who had leapt to his feet, who was clapping harder than anyone, who was blinking through tears and who was absolutely, positively – in case there had been any doubt before – going to be taking Ed out for a fucking ice cream.

###

###

What happened next was a measure of just how much things had changed in Ed's life, since he’d joined his last Bonnet Adventures tour in March. 

After Badminton had made a point of striding away before everyone else, Ed and Jackie followed Amelia backstage, where a group of people – ATS staff, audience members – were at the bottom of the stairs, waiting to talk to Ed. 

Ed barely had time to take in their faces before Stede and Jim appeared at his elbow, ushering him away from the crowd and enveloping him into the rest of the crew, who were waiting just outside the curtain. 

Moving as a group, they quickly got Ed out of the ballroom, across the lobby and down the street before breaking ranks and dissolving into their own jumble of reactions over everything that had just happened.

Surrounded by his friends, being patted on the back, grateful for them and beyond knowing what to do next, Ed didn’t realize how far he was from his own body until Stede slipped a hand into his and brought him reeling back.

“Want to go?” he asked Ed gently, and Ed looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time, and nodded. 

They didn't make it out for ice cream. 

They did, however, make it all the way back to Stede’s house, out of the cab, into the living room and to Stede asking if Ed wanted something to drink before Ed completely disappeared. 

He sank suddenly, onto the edge of the sofa, folded forward with his head in his arms, fists gripping the fabric of his pants, and crawled up into himself, looking for a dark place to hide. 

“Oh…” Stede shut the fridge and sat beside Ed as he shook violently, a silent runaway train. “Ed–”

At first Stede hovered, unsure.

Then, in the absence of knowing what Ed wanted or needed in that moment, Stede defaulted to what he’d wished for himself the past six months, anytime he was hit with the awareness of how much his life was changing, how much of himself he had failed to understand, and for how long. When he felt like he had no one.

He eased his arms around Ed where he could, rested his head against Ed’s, and sat just outside the dark place, happy to wait, going nowhere. 

###

###

It was a while before Ed was able to come back, stand, get himself a glass of water, and even notice that Stede was there. 

“Sorry,” he said, leaning against the counter in the kitchen, looking to where he’d left Stede sitting on the sofa. “I feel like I’m always falling apart on you.”

Stede frowned, taken aback. “Oh, I don’t know about always. You say some pretty funny shit sometimes too,” he stated. “And… I’m glad that when you need someone… I get to be that someone.”

“The someone who gets to pick up the pieces,” Ed joked, retreating into his glass. “Clean up the fucking mess.”

“Hey.” 

Stede waited until Ed reluctantly lowered the glass and looked at him properly. 

“You’re amazing.” Stede’s face was open, soft, at its most earnest. He shook his head, disbelieving. “You amaze me.”

Ed’s own face was drawn, but his eyes smiled at that before he went back to his water. Stede watched him until the moment faded, until it felt OK to let it be. 

Then, Stede leaned back on the couch and stretched, a relief after spending such a long time bent forward, and then reached behind him, finding the remote in the cushions. Ed finished his water as Stede turned on the TV. 

“Oh,” Stede chuckled, nodding at the TV, which Ed couldn’t see from his vantage point. “Look what’s streaming.”

Ed rounded the corner to see. It was No Reservations. They exchanged grins and Ed climbed back onto the couch. 

There was a blanket bundled in the basket at the far end of the sofa, and after it was pulled out, and unbundled, after it was employed and began radiating warmth, that blanket became a fortress. 

And after it served a crucial role in a late afternoon hiding from the outside world, that same blanket became a placemat for a pizza box and a pint of ice cream, and then a surface for storytelling, until long after the sun went down. 

The blanket was a warm stretch of wool that held retellings of things that had been missed, things that weren’t yet known, and things that still wanted to be shared. Its loops wove themselves around talk and teasing, around questions and answers, giggling, and heartfelt words. 

For hours, the blanket was pulled tight and reshaped and tugged at, made a shared safe place for secrets, for smiles, for searching lips and fingertips, even a few shy discoveries.

And eventually, the blanket outlasted the two people it was tangled around, doing its job long after the house, and everyone in it, had grown still and silent, finally yielding to the blue light of early morning.

###

Chapter Text

Ed woke up alone, on Stede’s sofa, with a sore neck. 

Grimacing against the merciless white light of morning as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, Ed kicked the blanket off onto the floor and ran his hands over his face. 

“Stede?” he called, clueing in a moment later that he was in Stede’s house.

Ed needed to crack a few bones before he was able to stand up and wander down the hallway, still half-asleep in his sock feet, with rooster hair. 

Ed ventured into Stede’s bedroom, feeling less weird about it than the first time, since he’d spent the night in it since then, and noticed clothing laid out on the still-made bed. 

He turned around just as the bathroom door opened, and Stede stepped out, wrapped in a towel, hair still dripping. 

“Oh,” Stede said. 

“Uh,” Ed said, too. 

They stood in the room, Stede looking awkward and Ed, well, just looking. 

“Morning,” Stede said, touching his towel absent-mindedly. 

“Sorry,” Ed tore his eyes away and tried to look casual. “Wasn’t sure…”

“I have to do the booth today,” Stede explained. “Running a bit behind, actually.”

They stood in silence for a moment, Ed knowing Stede needed to get dressed, but also not feeling like he could just leave without it being weird. 

Something had shifted last night. It happened after they’d spent the afternoon and then the evening on Stede’s couch, watching TV and ordering food and actually, for the first time since they’d reunited, genuinely catching up. 

Stede had talked about his divorce. Ed had told him all about Jules. They’d danced around the subject of Matt and Jack before agreeing that neither of them mattered, although Ed did tell Stede about Jack’s timely end, and when Stede  laughed, he fell in love with him a little harder. 

They’d rooted themselves in the cushions, sometimes facing, nudging each other’s feet and posing hypotheticals (Ed would much rather fight a polar bear than lead a tour that included Nigel, Jack and Matt), sometimes leaning on each other, unable to get close enough, divulging the first time they ‘had a feeling’ (Lucius’ 4am wakeup call for Stede; the fruit tray for Ed). 

They’d filled in the blanks for hours, as though trying to make up for the lost time, as though trying to cement to each other that they were both in this. All-in. 

Sometimes they struggled to find the words, and sometimes they didn’t need to use words at all. 

At around midnight, when the credits rolled on Into the Wild, and Stede had declared he actually never wanted to go to Alaska ever, Ed had made a joke about it.

Then Stede had joked back, and then they were sparring in the way they always did, talking and laughing over each other about nothing to prove some silly cartoonish point, disproportionately passionate and outlandish and loud and beaming at each other, delighting in each other.

At one point, swept up in his half of a debate neither would remember later, Stede had turned to Ed and pulled his legs up under him, kneeling beside him defiantly, eyes alight, ready to argue his point. Then, he had trailed off, distracted by some unseen, wonderous thing. 

Ed, still laughing, had leaned forward to prompt him into continuing – “OK and what’s your point?” – but by then the air had changed, and Stede looked different, and—

—“I’ll be done around five, if you want to get dinner?” Stede offered, bringing Ed back into the moment and stepping around him, gathering up the clothes he’d laid out on the bed. 

“Uh, yeah, perfect,” Ed said, taking a step back to make space. “But I, erm, don’t really plan on going back to the summit. Probably ever.”

“No problem,” Stede said, unruffled. “There’s some cocktail thing tonight for operators, but I can skip that. I think Lucius and Pete are having a sort of shindig in their suite as well. Any interest in that?”—

—Kissing Stede still felt new, still tentative, still a little awkward, even, but it gripped Ed in the back of his throat, too, suspended time, sent feelings Ed didn’t know he had rushing to the surface.

It still felt new, but that night, in the living room, dark but for the flickering light of the TV screen, it had felt different, too, from the times before. 

There was a crackling electricity to it; a gentle urgency building. Stede, curious, needing, newly brave. 

So Ed had enjoyed leaning back into the arm of the sofa, bringing Stede with him, holding his face in his hands, soaking up the feeling of his weight against him, the softness and the scent of Stede.

Ed could feel that something, a slightly dark and delicious something that went beyond simply adoring Stede, was unfurling its wings, ready to take flight – and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t mindless about it, or zeroed in on just one thing. He wanted all of it, everything, with his whole self. 

Knowing this was relatively unfamiliar territory for Stede, Ed had been happy to let him set the pace. But then, the pace began increasing rather quickly, and Ed was swept up in the thrill of it, in the hunger he could sense from Stede, how his hands, smoothing their way beneath Ed’s shirt, ignited something fiery in him—

—“I think I could rally for a party with the crew,” Ed said, making his way toward the hallway. “What time?”

“Knowing Lucius, probably around ten,” Stede said, standing back in the doorway of the bathroom, clothes in hand. 

“At night? !” Ed gaped at him. 

Stede grinned. “These young people, you know.”

Ed shook his head. “Jesus. Guess I'll go back to bed, rest up for tonight."

“Leaves us plenty of time for dinner though,” Stede said. “Want to meet anywhere in particular?”

“In Wellington? There's a million places I want to take you,” Ed said, meaning it. “I’ll go ahead and pick one, text you later. If– that’s OK?”—

—Looking back, Ed knew he’d probably matched Stede’s pace too quickly, had forgotten to communicate, to ask, to check in, and then, without noticing, outpaced him altogether. Looking back, he would have done things differently. 

But at the time, when Stede’s breath had hitched, when he had withdrawn suddenly, sitting back from Ed, panting and looking a little stricken, a little thrown, Ed had been confused. 

This was an area he usually had a fair amount of success in, and he’d never had that reaction before.

Immediately, Stede had made efforts to divert, excusing himself to get drinks, visiting the restroom, deciding they needed a snack, rattling off some facts about Alaska, laughing nervously. 

Ed had watched it unfold from his place on the sofa, perplexed and embarrassed and worried, but not able to bring himself to name anything aloud. It felt wrong to make Stede even more uncomfortable – especially when he was clearly working so hard to take things in the opposite direction—

—“That sounds great. Say six? Sorry, I’ve got to…late,” Stede asked as he began to close the bathroom door. Ed nodded. 

“Yeah, great, I’ll text you,” Ed said, raising his hand to give a little wave, which Stede returned, and cringed at how horribly awkward that felt, as Stede finally finished closing the bathroom door. —

— And because they were them, they’d recovered quickly enough, finding another movie, making more jokes, slightly more subdued this time but still there, still holding hands and nudging feet and not talking about it until eventually, they drifted off together in an awkward jumble of limbs in the glow of the television. 

The night had been… fine, still good. But even as Stede relaxed into his chest again for another movie, as though nothing had happened, Ed kept going back to earlier, and what he might've done wrong. 

It was as though he'd spent years and years practicing a dance with partners who shared his rhythm; that it was an easy dance, never tripped him up, and he'd never had a reason to question the moves. 

But now, Ed was trying out the dance with someone new, someone who didn’t quite know all the steps, and the resulting rhythm was starting to make him wonder whether the dance he’d always known was any good  – or whether he'd even really had the right moves to begin with. 

###

###

Stede was glad Ed hadn’t come with him to the summit. 

He’d left Ed with explicit instructions to make himself at home, binge something mindless on Netflix, enjoy his essentially empty fridge, and do whatever – but had stopped short of suggesting he stay off social media. 

Now, he wished he had mentioned that too.

Keeping in mind that ATS was a niche sector event, one couldn’t say Ed’s moment in yesterday’s panel had gone viral, exactly, but within the tiny algorithm of the #ATS2022 hashtag, #EdTeach was certainly trending. 

It seemed to be trending in real-life conversation too; tourism people loved a good scandal, something to gossip about, and that morning, business was the last thing being discussed on the tradeshow floor. 

Of course, few people knew about Stede’s connection to Ed, but many did know he was a Bonnet, some knew he’d left his family company for Jackie’s, and those clever enough to make the connection between Ed’s condemnation of everything Bonnet Adventures stood for and Stede, well – his booth was certainly popular on Day Three. 

Fortunately, Stede had exchanged texts with Jackie and their PR rep about some key messaging on the subject, all heartily in support of everything that was said, and was all too happy to stick to the script.

He needed a script, because he was far too close to the situation. He didn’t like the feeling that swept over him when people offered up their own opinion about the points Ed had made the day before. He wasn’t one to anger, usually – he and Kewa had long established that his default in conflict was usually to blame himself, thank you Father Bonnet – but whenever someone commented that Ed had missed the point of Nigel’s speech, that he’d been too sensitive, that it had been comments that were prejudiced, not Nigel’s – it left Stede with clenched teeth.

As uncomfortable as his newfound righteous anger was though, it was nothing compared to what was raking through his subconscious about the night before. 

It was there when he was handing out brochures. It reared up, behind some imaginary curtain, when he talked pricing. It flickered every time he got a text from someone and he thought it might be Ed. It asked him in whispers why he’d pulled away, and what had he expected, after all? It asked what was wrong with him, and what this might mean for him and Ed.

It nestled comfortably into the back of his head and poked at him all morning, insidious and alarmist and so wonderful at recollecting every single one of Stede’s previous experiences with other partners, pointing out all the mistakes he’d ever made, everything he didn’t know, and worst of all, every moment he’d otherwise buried away that had been truly awful, humiliating, and had left him feeling horrible about himself. 

It was all a bit much for Stede, but his next session with Kewa wasn’t for days, and after a full morning of absorbing other people’s ignorance and his own cruel inner-critic, Stede badly needed a break. 

###

STEDE TEXTING LUCIUS

Stede: Hey, are you free for lunch?
Lucius: Not sure, have to check my schedule
Stede: My treat
Lucius: Schedule’s clear, let’s go.

###

###

Lucius was distracted by the plating at Shed 5, and couldn’t stop taking photos of his food.

Normally, Stede wouldn’t mind, but today, he was dining with an agenda.

“Lucius, I need to talk to you. Could you–” he halted when Lucius held up a finger at him. 

“I’m working.”