Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

—

They meet for the first time at a wedding. Theirs.

Well, Bryce thinks, it doesn’t really feel like a wedding. It’s no special day, but an affair more formal and careful, and he’s being given off not by a tearful father (J.C. Shaw might be sniffling, if he counts?), but a polite band of politicians who hold their applause.

He’s curious to know about the man he’s entering this union with; he has until today only known his face through grainy photo and name on benefactor contract paper. Bryce steals quick peeks across the venue, but Gideon McGill gives him nothing to work with. You usually don’t use stone to describe a person’s face, but Bryce would have trouble finding a more perfect descriptor for Gideon. He looks stern, he looks less than thrilled (lines etched into his face suggest he is maybe rarely that!), but at least at least he doesn’t look particularly upset either.

That’s good, he supposes. It’s good if Gideon isn’t too bothered by the whole show. Bryce doesn’t want his first interaction to be with a thunderous, humourless Gideon — that would be such a bummer.

The ceremony starts.

"From the old Province of Quebec, with its different tongue but similar loyalty to [educational federation], I bring you one of those links of friendship with which we hope the St. Lawrence will always be linked, with the Pacific."

Men march up on the stage, speech after speech declaring what a meaningful day, expanding education, wonderful to forge these national ties.

Bryce resists the urge to fidget. Their people have tried to dress up the event as a marriage, but at the core it is just a series of long monologues by school officials, no sense of fun.

They don’t even make the two of them kiss! (No way they were ever going to, but the fallout would have been kind of worth it.)

After the whole thing, chatter-with-officials-period starts. Bryce is mildly surprised to see Gideon march straight towards him the second both of them get a moment’s respite from the filler talk. He doesn’t really know the other university, but he sure thinks he knows his type — those arrogant bastions who lord on their thrones with a beckoning finger, who would never lower themselves to talk to such a freshly founded university.

"Hello," says the Easterner, standing stiff-straight. Robotically he sticks out one hand. "Gideon. Good to make your acquaintance. I hope that this shall be the start of a fruitful relationship between our two institutions. The marriage — (he coughs, the only pause in his practiced speech) — well, I was not told it would be a marriage. It is my wish that we can reach a mutual understanding for our relationship." Gideon takes a quick breath, then adds: "I am not interested in any romantic affairs. I understand if that comes as a disappointment, but I would not be opposed to a productive partnership."

The whole time, Bryce stares and stares and stares, his jaw dropping another centimetre every third word. As Gideon seems poised to deliver the next section of his monologue (is this guy serious? How much did he memorize for this??), Bryce interrupts with a snicker of laughter.

"Man. You are way too intense about this."

Gideon looks slightly ruffled. "Pardon?"

"I think you must be the only one who’s thinking so seriously about the whole thing."

"Of course I am, it’s important," Gideon objects.

Bryce gives him another incredulous look. "Well, okay yeah— but the wedding is just goofy. Who seriously expects a set up for a romance between two universities? I bet you’re like, one of four, maybe five, people here who drank that Kool-aid."

Gideon looks at a slight loss for words. There’s a flush on his nose — embarrassment or anger, Bryce doesn’t know him well enough to clock it.

Bryce goes on. "For your whole thing — yeah, yeah, I’m not expecting anything but a working relationship." He claps Gideon’s still-outstretched hand, making the other blink.

"Well, I’m pleased to hear it." Gideon recovers quickly, grabbing Bryce’s hand in a firm handshake.

"Wonder why they tried so hard to make it a wedding." Bryce gestures down at their matching white suits, then the venue decorated in exorbitant red-white. "This could have been a signing, or just some plain ceremony. Here’s what I think: they’re just abusing the new budget."

"…I have to agree," says Gideon.

Bryce flashes an approving smile.

"D’you think they’ll have the same minister divorce us in two years? Heard he shadows as a judge." Bryce asks the question mostly unseriously, but with like 20% honesty. He wouldn’t put it past the school officials to drag everyone in the ceremony to UBC’s grand new campus opening.

Gideon snorts. "I would rather they find someone who speaks a touch faster."

Bryce snickers. "So they should ‘forget’ to invite all of Ontario, got it."

While Gideon hums noncommittally, the dry humour in his eyes gives his opinion away.

With a bit of delight, Bryce revaluates his initial impression of Gideon. The other university is horrifically sober, sure, but not exactly stuck up. Very pokeable.

That’s silly. He can work with that.

-

-

Dear British-Columbia,

I pen this letter to extend an invitation to you and your company to join us for dinner this January on behalf of McGill. It would be good to speak with you again, I beg pardon for the lack of contact since our first meeting.

My apologies for not writing sooner, my time has been occupied with all the going-ons and whole hullaballoo. Dreadful weather in the province this year, the snow reaches my shoulders and half of campus is nearly inaccessible against the force of the wind.

Sincere regards,

Yours,

Gideon McGill

Dear Gideon,

Glad to hear from you!

Would be happy to join you all, I’ll send the message on if your folks haven’t already done that.

Rough weather, eh? Sympathies. You should find some excuse to make your way over here. In the sunny afternoons it’s brisk enough to go for a walk without a vest, it averages around 40-50 F right now. 

Your faithful wife,

Bryce British-Columbia

Gideon,

And don’t feel like you have to write so formal, jeez. You sound even more high-strung in writing than in person.

Your doting wife,

Bryce British-Columbia

Dear British-Columbia,

Thank you for your letter.

It’s excellent news to hear of your enthusiasm for the dinner party. We’ve begun arrangements, will write again to update.

Indeed, your weather sounds quite pleasant… I’m not sure when official business will next bring me to your province, though if not too presumptuous I hope that day comes sooner rather than later.

I take the opportunity to inform you that though I received a second letter bearing your name as sender, unfortunately, the carrier pigeon traveling with the letter was eaten by a horse. As such I will not be able to give a reply to its contents.

Sincere regards,

Yours,

Gideon McGill

Dear Gideon,

Sorry about the horse.

Your loving wife,

Bryce British-Columbia

Dear Bryce,

Please find an alternate signing-off.

Sincere regards,

Your mildly peeved

Gideon McGill

-

The dinner parties hosted by provincial aristocrats are like a slide, in that they always start off on a jubilant high and then go down-down-downnn and you can’t get off this ride. It makes Bryce torn.

Anything’s better than dining alone, right?? Empty room gnawing at you, left alone with your own brain mush as your only sustenance… But dining with others who seem to want to devour you instead is not much more nourishing is it!

Keeping to pattern, dinner in ‘07 with the Montrealers starts off fine, real engaging even. Someone grabs his ear with a whimsical weekend tale, leading to someone else chiming in with an eccentric invention, to a third someone yapping about a series of insane hypotheticals that has laughter rippling through their half of the table. There’s an interesting conversation rising to his left about gossip in the agriculture department, elopement between professor and somebody’s granddaughter. Bryce unsubtly leans over to listen in.

It’s all jolly, before conversation dims and the next topic on the table is the business of the new school. The orchestra of clattering silverware halts, and a dozen pairs of eyes turn to fix on Bryce in unison, cornering him.

Ah. There it is. The whole room switches from one of warm merry to cool business. Bryce switches off one part of his brain and slides into another.

He will have to maneuver his way carefully. Many of those conversation companions show another side now: loud boasts and thin jabs, sharp looks and demands, clinked cheers ruined by a haughty laugh. Bryce has been taught what to say in settings like these, but the words on his tongue never taste less like plastic. Won’t anyone here take it easy for one night?

Beside him, Gideon seems to be doing much better. If he was twitchy and out of place at their marriage, here he is a natural.

Bryce watches him from the corner of his eye. It’s funny how much calmer Gideon seems now, when the rules are so constrictive, when they have to perform on command. Well—Bryce takes a sip of his drink—Gideon’s had time to get a run of the whole circuit.

Any especially tricky questions that come his way, he pawns off towards Gideon: "Ohh, interesting! You should ask McGill what he thinks." and nibbles at the courses so his mouth is too full to answer.

There are many advantages to his strategy of making Gideon do the conversational lifting. For one, he gets to grin relentlessly at the sight of red on Gideon’s face every time somebody says the words "married" or "husband". A stray comment he wishes he heard the start of has Gideon choking on his drink, which is the funniest thing he’s seen all night.

Gradually, evening fades further into night and the heavy stuff seems to lessen. At a point in dinner that is probably still too early to be polite but well beyond when Bryce is ready to call it, he makes his excuses and stands up from the table. He might get a light scolding for it later, but he’s done enough of his job as networking mascot.

He finds himself going for a walk outside. For a while he lingers close to the manor windows, the sound of distant chatter and pulsing warmth from inside oddly rhythmic.

When the thought comes to him that this might count as eavesdropping--a little creepy--he sets off to make a tour of the gardens instead.

Right now they’re just rows of dirt and frost, they probably make for a nicer sight in another season. What kind of flowers grow here, how would they look on display? As he’s stretching his shoulders with thoughts of petals on his mind, crunching snow signals the approach of footsteps.

Bryce turns around.

Gideon waves, walking up.

"You don’t find it too cold out?"

"No," lies Bryce.

"Hm," says Gideon, who chooses not to press the point. "I’m sorry the gardens aren’t more presentable."

Bryce scoffs. "Dude, it’s winter."

"I hope you had a good time at dinner. I know these can be a lot."

"What? Yeah, you guys were great hosts, don’t worry."

Gideon purses his lips. "I’m sure everyone was polite, but that’s not what I’m asking about. If I’m not mistaken, it’s your first time in a setting like this, and the pressure put on you…?"

"No, it was fine."

Gideon frowns. “Please don’t lie on my behalf. You barely spoke the last hour, and you kept picking at your plate."

Bryce rubs his head sheepishly. "Aha."

Crossing his arms, Gideon says quite seriously, "I’ll support you, so don’t worry. We have to stick together."

A kind of feeling flickers across Bryce’s mind. He doesn’t dwell on it, changing the subject instead: "Appreciate it, but doesn’t mean you have to chaperone me. You left dinner early, right?"

Now Gideon’s turn to have some guilty emotion flash across his face. "Not too early."

Bryce laughs then groans aloud, "Dinner parties, man."

"I wouldn’t disagree with that assessment."

"Maybe I can convince them it’s not worth shipping everyone around for those things." It’s mostly Bryce’s wishful thinking. "Like, for appearance’s sake they might want me here. If I cause enough trouble then they’d stop, right."

Alarm in his voice, Gideon’s quick to say, "I’m not sure that’s a smart idea."

"Any ideas then?"

"I doubt they’d allow you to stop travelling here. Your end of the bargain is supposed to be collecting information on university development, no? But that doesn’t require your whole party to be here. What if," Gideon’s voice rises in tempo, "an arrangement was made for smaller visits? You could visit on your own, and if it’s only one person I can host, it’s less work on my side as well."

Bryce snaps his fingers. "Hey, that’s a cute idea. Dunno if they’ll bite, but it can’t hurt to ask."

"Indeed."

There’s a moment of understanding between them, floating in the air.

"Ah," Gideon finds a stack of snow very interesting to kick at, "We shouldn’t stand out here too long. There isn’t much to see right now, but I can show you around, if you’d like."

Before Bryce can accept, they both turn at the sound of far away boots padding on snow. Their handlers are here to collect them.

Bryce smiles. "Next time?"

"Sure. Next time."

-

-

Dear Gideon,

Good news and better news since that supper last month.

Got the go-ahead to travel on my own for future Montreal trips after some hijinks and flattery. Life is good. Also, they ask would McGill (you) want to come over and see the West Coast too, they’ll cover your travel.

On another note, my first class is going to be entering soon! I feel brilliant. Makes me want to shout with full glee. Do you still remember your first cohort?

I’ll do my best to take care of the students you served as Alma Mater.

Your faithful,

Bryce

Dear Bryce,

On both accounts wonderful to hear! I look forward to receiving you again. We can finish up the tour around mine, if your next visit is Winter, there’s a dashing Carnival I insist you experience.

If it doesn’t hinder your people too much, I would be much obliged to pay a visit. I’ll need to confirm permission on my end, but I don’t foresee too much trouble.

As for the academic matters, again absolutely wonderful news. Yes, all this time later and I still remember how bright my first class was. Take good care of yours.

And thank you for looking after my earlier pupils, they’re good eggs. It will be their honour to be the first to write their signatures, 'M.A. and B.Sc, British Columbia".

Sincere regards,

Your loyal,

Gideon McGill

Gideon,

I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you use an exclamation mark. Can’t believe you’re the type.

Your slightly surprised,

Bryce

Dear Bryce,

Shush you.

Sincere regards,

Your mildly peeved,

Gideon

-

There’s a spot down by the water where a particularly large, flat stone is positioned perfectly to be sat on, admiring the view of the ocean as it ripples further and farther out. If you throw some caution to the wind, you can reach that stone from the shore by climbing down and across a path of rocks.

It’s a favourite place of Bryce’s, for when he wants a bit of peace. It’s his first time bringing Gideon here, today in high summer.

"Are you sure," Gideon says as they make their way across the rocks, "that this is safe?" He curses (How undignified! How ungentlemanly!) when a pebble slides out from the stone under his footing.

"Not really," Bryce says breezily. He doesn’t look down when placing his feet on the tilting stones, but it’s not out of muscle memory or a false sense of security. Things will work out, probably, or he can always backtrack if he makes a false step.

Soon enough Bryce has outpaced Gideon handily, the former already standing at the flat spot while the other huffs from well over ten stones away. Bryce waves at him encouragingly, and Gideon’s frown grows.

The Easterner is in A Mood Ever when he finally catches up to Bryce. Okay, Bryce is guilty of making it worse, just a bit, a dig at his “old man bones”. (That might be a real scowl on Gideon’s face.)

Turning away from the ominous look Gideon’s sporting, Bryce faces the ocean and breathes in the fresh air. It’s a bright, crisp day and the water is crystal. Waves pull over the rock edges like a blanket, tides singing a gentle lullaby.

Bryce folds himself down into a sit. Gideon doesn’t copy him.

Whistling, Bryce drags a free hand through the shining water. He feels Gideon’s eyes on him, when he looks up he catches Gideon wearing his familiar stone face, hands in jacket pockets.

"Come sit." Bryce pats the rock. "It doesn’t bite."

Gideon still looks reluctant. Bryce rolls his eyes. "C’mon."


It’s in achingly slow movements that Gideon takes a seat. He mutters something about dust that Bryce tunes out.

"Okay, now just look at that." Bryce gestures towards the endless ocean and sunny sky. He rests his head on one hand. "Isn’t it gorgeous? Told you it’d be worth it."

The sound that Gideon makes is somewhere between muted agreement and light groan.

Bryce shoots him a dry look. "You have eyes. The water looks nice. Agree."

Gideon coughs. "I—Apologies, yes. Yes, it’s a good view. Thank you for showing me."

Oops. Overcorrected and now Gideon’s slipped into formality again. Bryce resists the urge to sigh. "Have you ever skipped rocks before?"

"Pardon?"

"Making the rocks hop." He fishes around in the smaller pebbles around their rock until he finds one he deems flat enough. Pulling it back, Bryce launches it into the ocean, where it leaps twice before sinking.

"Can’t…say I have."

Bryce makes an exaggerated face of horror. "Well, you gotta try!" He grabs another thin pebble and presses it into Gideon’s hand.

With brief hesitation, Gideon accepts the rock. "Alright…" He does his best to copy Bryce, but when his pebble sails out into the sea it drops with not a bounce.

Gideon gives the water an offended look. Bryce snickers loudly, and then Gideon’s piercing eyes swing to him.

"Try again, try again!" Bryce finds him another pebble.

The pebble flies out and plummets.

"Again!"

Fwoosh, thunk.

"Again!"

Swoosh, thud.

"Again!" — Gideon says it this time, a little snappy, he’s getting into it.

They continue like that, Bryce a pebble-honing machine and Gideon the tosser until Gideon finally satisfies himself with a little hop of the stone. He looks far too smug for having achieved only one success after countless flops.

Bryce gives him a small round of applause anyways.

Gideon grins sharp, then his face falls as he curses to himself, scrambling up. "Drat—the time, the time?" he mutters, hands running through all of his pockets.

"Relax. No rush."

Gideon fixes him with a sharp look. "We have a meeting at noon."

A minor rush, then.

From within his coat, Gideon draws out a pocket watch. He fiddles with the key and pin. Bryce watches him.

"It’s, what is it again, 3 hours behind Montreal here?"

"Hm? Oh. Yeah." Bryce’s eyes flicker up as he checks the math in his head.

Gideon nods, then flicks the crown to move the hands, glancing at their new positions, tweaking a few more times. Seemingly satisfied, he raises the pocket watch to the light and asks Bryce, "10:44?"

"Don’t look at me," Bryce shrugs. "Don’t carry a watch."

Gideon clicks his tongue. "Suppose I’ll keep track of the time for both of us then." As if physically unable to avoid saying so, he adds, "You really should get one. Useful for a lot, and especially for meeting all your appointments."

"I did have a watch," Bryce clarifies, "But I didn’t end up using it ever so I just gave it to someone."

Gideon fixes him with a look in much the way a human regards an ant. "I see." His judgement speaks for itself.

"Hey," protests Bryce, "I’m almost always inside in a room with some sort of clock. It’s just redundant to have a second one."

"How about now? Outside?"

“Well, only time I’m out is just walking between buildings, a one-two-minute thing. Again, redundancy."

“Did you not just admit to me less than five minutes ago that you lost track of time on the rocks?"

“That’s what I have you for, eh,” Bryce says breezily.

Gideon stares at him, unamused.

"Ple-enty of time, don’t worry. You just said we still have like an hour."

"Yes, but—"

"Easy, take it easy. Let’s just chill for a bit." Bryce shuffles back into his earlier sitting position. Gideon grudgingly follows him.

Bryce looks back out over the waves. It really is easy just to spend days here and exist with nothing else on the mind. He’d be happy just to spend the rest of time here without a word. Beside him, Gideon still looks pinched, stressed as hell. He opens and closes his mouth, finally saying,

"Ask me if you need a reminder of the time."

-

-

Dear Bryce,

This letter is written to invite you back to the McGill grounds. A few visits ago I made the offer to show you around campus before we were interrupted, and though the proposal may have slipped your mind, I would like to confirm that I am a man of my word.

I sincerely apologize for having been so busy your last two trips as to not be able to properly entertain you. I am hoping that a brief informal visit would be more suitable to these whims.

I very much enjoyed the British Columbia air, I hope you’ll find something equally charming in Quebec.

Sincere regards,

Your loyal,

Gideon

Gideon,

Oh snap good call. Yes I’ll be there in a skip and a jump!

Your faithful,

Bryce

Gideon,

Nice seeing you again, got back to BC safe.

Not staying at home for long though, I’m actually going out again soon to visit Manitoba and then East to Toronto. Got any tips for talking to those guys? You know Toronto University, right?

Your faithful,

Bryce

Dear Bryce,

Indeed I am familiar with the whole lot.

Terrence, that’s Toronto, is a good fellow. He’s friendly and candid, if you have any questions while you’re there he should be able to guide you along. I’m happy to vouch for his character. A word of caution, his Methodist colleges may still be tempted to swallow you. They almost sent an offer for your hand, you know.

Regarding the Manitoba trio (three of them, you do not read wrong), I admit to knowing less about. them. They seem a little disorganized, but they do good work. When I visited they were quite hospitable. Try and link up with them, it will do you good to have connections with your neighbours.

Safe travels.

Your loyal,

Gideon

You’re kidding! Toronto did? That’s really really weird to think about.

Please tell me you have also had universities being thrown at you, that’ll make me feel better.

Your squicked,

Bryce

Dear Bryce,

If you ask my opinion, I think a union between you and Terrence would have worked out. There’s something similar about the two of you, I think it makes for one of the more compatible matches.

…Well, you were one of those “thrown my way”. If we’re excluding that, then I had a brief set-up with Alistair with much less pomf. And Acadia and Newfoundland I suppose, though all three were much more of a one and done signing.

Your loyal,

Gideon

Hah well you’re stuck with me.

I’ll have left Vancouver when you get this, write me at Winnipeg your next letter?

Your faithful,

Bryce

—

"Is all you do," Bryce says, leaning his arms over the back of Gideon’s armchair, "stay inside and read? Gotta say, I get this feeling they won’t think it’s worth my travelling weeks to your side of the country if all I can report back is book facts."

Gideon’s snug inside his study, books stacked two feet high on the table before him. He ignores Bryce’s complaints soundly, flips through another page of his novel. "I thought you wanted to see the libraries."

"I did! I do!" A pretty little building, they’d broken in after hours (Not breaking in, Gideon objected, I have a key. Snuck in, Bryce suggested, which was another word choice Gideon wasn’t a big fan of. Picky-picky.) and Bryce had had all the hours ever to gawk at the gorgeous wood architecture. A nice library hall was definitely being added to the Point Grey campus shopping list.

Bryce huffs. "Redpath Hall was beautiful. But I wasn’t expecting you to turn the rest of the week into a reading week."

"I like to read." <- Gideon isn’t lying.

Coming back from Redpath the other night, Gideon had had at least eight books in his arms. A bedtime reading each day of the upcoming week, an extra tome as a treat, he had claimed in a tone Bryce couldn’t tell between serious or mocking. He'd doubted his horrible humour would have rubbed off on Gideon that quickly. And well, Gideon had indeed gotten through at least a couple of those books.

Day two of his visit: back to Redpath again. Gideon had settled in for some light reading, Bryce had shrugged and done the same. Day three: Gideon had suggested Redpath again, Bryce had groaned, instead they’d gone for a run around Montreal. Day four: Gideon had not managed to bring up Redpath before Bryce had burst out, literally anything else, and Gideon had only been creative enough to suggest reading in his study.

"I mean, I like to read too. But we could do something. Something actually interesting."

"Reading’s plenty interesting. Maybe you just need to read more books." With the eyebrow that Gideon raises topping that plain comment, it might be a jab. Sounds like he’s holding onto a pinch of salt from being forced to part with his favourite library.

Bryce sighs and lifts himself off of Gideon’s chair. He’ll take the bait. "Ugh, what are you reading?" He grabs a book off a stack. "A Doll’s House. Henrik Ibsen." The author’s name sounds Scandinavian.

"Ah, I just finished reading that last night upon Arvida's recommendation. It’s a play from a few decades ago that caused quite a stir. It’s about a wife in a painful marriage and the responsibilities upon the couple. I won’t spoil the ending, but I quite enjoyed what it had to say about face and deceit."

"Oh, I hope it’s a good divorce," Bryce says with cheer.

Gideon snorts and his attention returns to his book.

Bryce takes A Doll’s House , sinks into a sofa opposite Gideon and starts to read. Might as well.

Cue a couple quiet hours later—

"What, in the end Nora just leaves like that?"

Gideon looks up at the outburst, mouth quirking into a small smile. "See, I had a hunch you’d think that. I wasn’t impressed with her either. It’s not responsible to abandon her family."

"Yeah, I don’t really get how that’s supposed to solve any of their problems. Nora’s…Nora’s something."

"She certainly left a sour taste in my throat." Gideon clicks his tongue as he sets his own book down. "Selfish, childish."

Bryce taps his chin. "I do get we’re supposed to find her sympathetic, but yeah it’s hard for me to get on her side. Her husband — well, I’m not going to get into that. But the kids! Nora, the kids!"

"Even if she is a victim of her circumstances, there’s just no world where running away from everything is the correct course of action. Stiff upper lip, you have a duty."

"Mnhm. Between all the characters in the story, it’s probably Nora that I like the least. Her husband Torvald’s pretty bad, but he’s just pathetic enough that it doesn’t leave any conflict for me. How about you, Nora too?"

"Rank."

The venom in Gideon’s voice catches Bryce off guard. "What, him? For chasing a married woman?" It kind of makes sense to Bryce that the near-adultery could be the reason — Easterners, their conservative feelings — but it’s surprising that Gideon would think quite that poorly of him for it.

"For betraying Nora," Gideon corrects. "Dr. Rank is an awful man. I’m not counting the extramarital affair against him, it didn’t happen. Rather, he has my scorn for his confession. In the same breath he tells Nora he’s dying, he admits he’s been in love with her since forever? How could you do that to your friend?!"

Bryce hums, disagreeing. "Well, what does he have to lose by telling her?"

Gideon sputters. "It’s not dignity he’s losing, it’s his morals. What right does he have to tell her that, now? What reason would he have to tell her both of those now, if not to guilt and manipulate her? Pick one to say, and it should be the one about his mortal sickness."

"If he’s dying, Dr. Rank only has so much time left with her. He shouldn’t spend his last few weeks hiding secrets from her. That would only hurt both of them."

"Really now, Bryce… I’m surprised to hear you say that. Nora’s been strong through years of marriage with Torvald, and Rank can’t even bear mental hardship for a month? That’s his failing, not her burden."

Bryce rests his head on one hand with a frown. "You really have a bone to pick with him. They’re friends, they shouldn’t be trying to 'protect' themselves from each other. They should support each other."

"Well now he can’t," Gideon says with a sneer. "He’s ruined it for Nora. Nora’s trapped in her marriage, Dr. Rank is one of the only people she can trust, and then he all but blocks that off when he says he loves her. Now the poor woman cannot lean on him for risk of being unfair or leading him on or collapsing their friendship."

"Okay?? But c’mon, cut Dr. Rank some slack. He can’t control his feelings. Is he supposed to repress until he’s blue in the face? That’s such a bad way of living life. Even if he tried to, Nora’d find out eventually-- and she would rather hear it from him."

"She’d rather not hear it at all."

Bryce sighs loudly. "Why do you hate communication so much? I really don’t think what Rank did was wrong, he was just explaining himself to his friend. It’s hard for people to understand each other, you gotta use your words."

Gideon looks like he’s about to counter, but he must sense that this debate could go on another year because what he says is a grudging compromise. "I suppose. You have a point." Even if it sounds like he still considers it a personal failing.

Before the topic changes, Gideon gets the last word in. "But I would never do what Rank did."

-

Dear Bryce,

I have your letter of November 2nd. Sorry to hear you’re under the weather, I suggest a helping of warm tea.

If you’re bedridden, may I suggest “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz”? It’s a nice tale to pass the time.

I have included a copy to lend with this letter, should it pique your interest.

I have the honour to be,

Your loyal,

Gideon

Gideon,

I can’t believe I have reading homework. (Joke)

If this book is mid and it mushes my brain and I puke on it I will be blaming you. Just so you know.

Your faithful,
Bryce

Dear Bryce,

…Damage the book and I will damage you.

Your regretfully loyal,

Gideon

OOF!

Your faithful,

Bryce

-

-

This Vancouver spring, they’re out on the lake, on a tiny fishing boat. Bryce’s tiny fishing boat.

Apparently this is not a common thing for universities to have. Gideon is still, hardly visibly, shaking his head and muttering something to himself. Skill issue, that’s what that’s called.

“I mean,” Bryce shrugs, “They pay me a bit for the random stuff they have me do. I already get room and board, so why not spend it on the boat.”

“...That’s nice,” Gideon says.

They’re on the tiny fishing boat, squished in its tinier exterior, because it’s raining outside. When they had first set out, it hadn’t been. Gideon had looked up at the clouds in the sky and pursed his lips, but before he could say anything Bryce had already boarded the boat with a reassurance that they’d just make a quick lap around the lake before the rain started.

They’d made it two thirds around before the sky had started pouring down in earnest. Bryce had suggested they speed back to the docks and then make a dash to the nearest building.

No thank you, Gideon had said. With no umbrella on board, they’d get soaked before getting anywhere close to shelter. It was him who’d made the call to wait it out.

So they’re there in the cramped room until however long.

Bryce makes a face. His eyes flit to the window of the cabin, watching the raindrops race down. “Hey, Gideon. Time?”

Gideon glances down at his watch. “2:01.”

Rubbing his eyes, Bryce sighs. That makes it half an hour since they’ve been stuck, no sign of the rain outside slowing, and there’s really nothing to do inside.

Back to watching the rain it is. Pitter patter splish splash.

After a dreadfully long minute of that, Gideon coughs to draw his attention. “Bryce. Thank you for waiting here with me, I know it’s not terrifically entertaining. I meant to give this to you later, but if it can help alleviate some boredom now I think this timing is good enough.”

He pulls out a thin book from one of his pockets and hands it over to Bryce. It’s a collection of poems.

Gideon goes on to add, “As a token of friendship. I know we’ve been swapping books back and forth, but I wanted to give you something to keep. This little book’s from a New Brunswicker, thought it’d be good to share some Canadian literature.”

Blinking, Bryce glances down at the volume, then back at Gideon. He flashes a gentle smile. “That’s really thoughtful of you. Thanks.”

Gideon looks pleased at his words. “I’m glad you appreciate it.”

“Although…” Bryce’s smile turns more mischievous as he grins ear to ear. “...You really brought it on the boat? The boat with water everywhere around it?”

Gideon pauses, considering. “Well.” There’s a struggle on his face as he tries to form justification.

Bryce lets the awkward moment sit for an extra second, two, because it’s pretty funny and he’s kind of a bad person. “Oh well! Whatever, if it gets wet it’ll probably be when we’re drenched too.”

Because Bryce is terrible, to add drama to his point he shifts his fully weight to one side of the boat and then the other, and the boat lurches a beat.

“Bryce!” Gideon hisses, and Bryce snickers.

When the boat is still again, Gideon speaks up. “At first I was actually considering finding a watch for you.”

Bryce pssh es. “But my system works just fine. Time?”

Gideon glances down. “2:06.”

“See?” Bryce lets a bit of smugness seep into his voice.

Gideon doesn’t deign that with a response.

Bryce focuses his attention back to the book. He flips through the pages and hums at some of the interesting titles. When he raises his head, he sees Gideon watching him.

“Hey, Mr. Reader.” Bryce pokes Gideon’s leg with the little book. “You should read some of it.”

“I’ve already read the collection.”

It’s always a question with Gideon whether he’s playing the straight man for the joke or just being flat. “No, I mean read it out loud.”

“Hrm?”

Bryce rolls his eyes. “Will you read some of the poems out loud for me? You just said you’ve already read it, so you know how it goes. Besides, according to one of my English profs, isn’t poetry supposed to be absorbed from being spoken?” Logic, a direct hit on Gideon.

Gideon gives in surprisingly fast. “Oh, very well. Pass me the poems?” And Bryce does that, and Gideon skims through the pages and then he starts to read.

Bryce hums, closing and opening his eyes. Gideon’s voice is clear and distinguished, his pronunciation of plosives satisfying. The beat of rain outside provides additional rhythm to make for a peculiar lullaby.

Bryce gives a slow nod, suddenly drowsy. “Keep reading please. It’ll be a good bedtime story, I’m gonna take a nap. Wake me up when the sky’s clear.”

Despite Gideon’s sigh, Bryce proceeds to do just that, shuffling into position and shutting his eyes.

He dreams of the sound of Gideon’s voice.

-

Gideon,

Screw my baka life. Again the opening of the new school has been pushed back, I feel like a looped tape. When I heard the news I realized that it was almost certainly the cause of my terrible headache this entire month, which has certainly gotten worse now. Starting to think I’ll drop dead before things happen.

Your glum,

Bryce

Bryce,

Indeed that is very unfortunate. I’m quite sorry to hear it :-(

If it’s any comfort, in my early years I must have stalled almost three or four times before finally coming into my own. Good luck, I’m sure you’ll get there.

Sincere regards,

Your loyal,

Gideon

Gideon,

Yeah. Thanks for the support. I’m just, ugh, this sucks man.

Legislation in the 90s took so so long to get anywhere. I think I came into existence around then, don’t really know. I just remember flickering in and out between death and a dream, I am very hopeful I’ll never go back to that place.

Of course it was wonderful being Vancouver and then your MBC, but it feels like I’ve been waiting forever to claim my own place as the provincial university.

Well. Tomorrow comes.

Your faithful,

Bryce

Bryce,

I often forget how young you are. All of you in the West, I mean. Were we ever like that?—I find it hard to believe.

Did you You were McGill BC? I didn’t know that. Or I suppose I had assumed you were always the spirit of some grander British Columbia destiny.

I, I once knew Victoria College ages ago. I can’t imagine you two would’ve been around at the same time? He was a good lad.

Your loyal,

Gideon

Gideon,

Hey we’re not babies! We do enough to give you guys a run for your money eh.

Yeah that was me. SO WEIRD seeing you write that, you know. 'McGill BC'. Haha. Words are funny.

It’s funny you bring up Vincent, I ran into him once or twice at your old haunt, but as soon as he saw me he’d lose me in the hallways. We do our own thing now, dunno what he’s up to! Maybe in another world he’d have been on his way to being UBC haha.

Your faithful,

Bryce

Bryce,

You give me plenty trouble indeed…

Yes, yes. Words are funny things. At some point in your life all your titles and history start to mix together in a blur. Very difficult for me to recall the early days now.

And I am glad, very glad, to hear that Vincent’s still around and that you two have gotten to know each other. Keep each other company, eh?

Your loyal,

Gideon

Is the memory thing 'cause you’re old and grey or is it an everyone thing?

Sure, if I run into him I’ll say hi from you.

Your faithful,

Bryce

Bryce,

Couldn’t say. You try and keep track, update me in a few decades?

I do wonder where the next century will bring us. I never would’ve imagined crossing the Rockies when the only path was wagon trail. And now here I am.

Your loyal,

Gideon

P.S. Please don’t feel the need to bother Vincent about me.

Flying cars before the end of the millennium, do you think?

Your faithful,

Bryce

Not a chance.

Your loyal,

Gideon

What!! Some optimism, please. They’re cooking up crazy stuff in the labs and in the fairs across the border.

Your bright-eyed,

Bryce

I’d sooner believe they abolish our education systems altogether.

Your loyal,

Gideon

Booo. I trust things to get better.

Your faithful,

Bryce

Is that hope or blind belief?

Your jaded,

Gideon

Hey, and you tell me I don’t read! It’s in my sign-off!

Your faith ful,

Bryce

I will be very amused when your faith breaks under the weight of a tired world.

Believe me,

Your faithless,

Gideon

You really think there’s so little point to it all? If you’re kidding I can’t tell.

There’s always something to live for. Purpose of life has gotta be to become the best version of yourself. Before I die, I want to do good and find happiness and help as many people as I can.

Your faithful,

Bryce

You’re a good person.

Me, I think we might just live to die.

         (Do you think it has to be the dissolution of a constitution, or would a sharp bayonet be able to get me too?)

Your faithless,

Gideon

Have you considered that just a tap less pessimism would make life a lot more fun?

You should choose something to live for.

We all get to make our own path.

Your faithful,

Bryce

—

—

After a long week of meetings and documents, Bryce and Gideon retreat to Gideon’s study in the evening for some quiet. They take the seats they usually occupy, Bryce the plush couch and Gideon his wood armchair. Glasses are poured and set on the table.

Bryce takes a sip and flutters his eyes shut, content to take it easy and laze in peaceful company.

"Happy 8 year anniversary, dear," Gideon says out of nowhere, and it snaps Bryce to the present.

"Whuh?"

Gidoen tilts his head. "The wedding ceremony, at yours, eight years ago. I was…I was making a joke." There’s an awkward red creeping up Gideon’s face, Bryce jumps in quick.

"Ohh yeah!" Bryce snaps a finger. "Sheesh. Eight years already?"

Gideon snorts. "Well, yes. I can’t believe only this month Emmet stopped being a prick to me about the 'marriage.’" Bryce hears the air-quotes as the words are said.

"Haven’t heard anyone call it that in a while. 'Marriage'. Gosh, that was pretty stupid." Bryce grins wide.

Gideon hums agreement. "Weddings do tend to be."

"Don’t say that, you’ll make me want a divorce."

"What’s the point of marriage anyways?" Gideon flicks a finger in his drink. "Such a ridiculous human thing."

"Of course you say that, you’re not human."

"Hey hey now, I think I make a pretty convincing person. You’re just especially inhuman. It’s your lack of a heart~~"

"I’ve survived this long without one," Gideon drawls.

Bryce raises him a long look, lets it sink. "Uh-huh. I sure see that."

Gideon scoffs, returning to the subject. "But weddings. Really? The ultimate celebration of life is this ritual caging? After all of the joy is gone and you’re only left with resignation and a sense to go through with it because you know no other alternative?"

"C’mon, you’re dooming. Marriage isn’t a prison. It’s like, you gain a companion to create the rest of your lives together."

"Alright, and that’s worse. You swear yourself to some delusion that a small happiness will be forever. You become so swept up in your relationship, you lose yourself, fall to pieces when it ends. I know you’re observant, Bryce. I’m positive you’ve met people like that before."

Bryce sighs. "Okay, sure, some people get super codependent with it. That’s… brrr. But think on the bright side, if you don’t pedestal it so much you’ll find positives. It doesn’t matter if it’s not forever, there’s something in it for everyone."

"That something is in the pre-relationship period. The thrill and flutter of wanting. Make it into a relationship, and you’ve ruined the magic."

Bryce laughs into his glass. "Aw, you’re into the pining? You sound like a precious maiden."

Gideon looks a bit cross. “It’s the principle. You would only want somebody so badly because you can’t have them. When you finally "get the girl", she’ll never live up to your expectations. You’ll have lost the game."

"But it’s not a game of tag, it’s a real thing. Look, you’re building, like, a house together. Brick by brick, you build something grand."

"If it’s an investment, it’s only because it’s a prison." Gideon raises an eyebrow, raises his cup. "Say your house metaphor. Okay, you’re building it together, but after laying a foundation you’ve sunk cost, now you’re trapped in that relationship. Wouldn’t you get sick of it? Even if you are happy — rare in itself, have you seen that rising divorce rate? — how could you give yourself up for forever?"

"Well, take our marriage. (Wince, oh god might be an awkward example), In-in a real marriage, there would be something meaningful created there, I think. Like, over the last few years we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well. Sharing time isn’t unhappy."

Gideon offers a cynical silence.

Bryce fills it. "If you enter a marriage contract with someone, as a human, you must have chosen it. You decided to tie yourselves together, because you trust each other and you’re important to each other, and you make each other better." He’s the one who sounds like a dreaming maiden now. The tips of his ears feel warm.

The Easterner appears to mull it over. "Well…For us, yes, we have taken a shine to each other," he agrees at last with a clean nod. "I suppose if you can know the other person first it’s not as dangerous. But for us, we don’t have a traditional marriage. It’s much more of an alliance of fellows."

"Yeah, right," Bryce plows past. "An alliance. But not only that, you get a precious connection. Going beyond the transactional, you get to make each other happy. Enjoy a good conversation, a sense of security, a partner in crime, a support, a confidant. Etcetera."

"Sounds like you should try making friends."

The dry tone which Gideon employs pulls laughter from Bryce. "It’s still different. In a relationship you can trust your heart in their hands."

"Hrm."

"It would be nice." There’s a smile on his face, Bryce is sure.

Gideon studies him. Bryce clears his throat. "What?"

"I just wouldn’t have pegged you for a romantic."

Bryce tenses for a beat, relaxes. "Only seems that way because you’re such an unromantic."

A roll of an eye from Gideon, before he immediately asks, "Was it a human who made you soft?" And the brightness of Gideon’s eyes prevents Bryce from looking away.

"Huh? Oh, do you plan to blame one of them for corrupting me?"

"It’s happened with Valentino." Gideon’s eyes flit down to his drink, then back up.

While Bryce hasn’t heard the full story about the widowed university, he knows it has a sad ending. He tries to rescue the grim mood. "Aw, are you asking me if I’m single? Sorry, I’m already married." He mimes flashing his left ring finger. (Of course, they didn’t actually have rings. Only for real weddings.)

"Har-har." It might be that Gideon takes the joke as a sign to back off, he doesn’t push further.

Bryce shares the information for free. "Sure, I’ve had relationships that were important to me before, yes." He doesn’t specify whether they were human or their universitykind. Easterners do tend to have some more orthodox thoughts on the natural order and he’s not going to push it, not tonight.

"That’s nice." Some unusual vulnerability in the comment. "I still can’t imagine it."

Bryce stills. Quiet, soft as the breeze, he says, “Have you ever been in love?”

Something flickers across Gideon’s face. He’s quiet. “No.”

Gideon doesn’t ask the question back.

-

-

Gideon. GIDEON!

The university opening date is really, finally, confirmed now! Fall 1915 and here we come, here we come! Vancouver’s turn on the stage.

Even Doc Tory’s coming back for a visit, I might never forgive Alvaro for poaching him but I’m glad he’s making the trip.

Your gleeful,

Bryce

Bryce,

Warm congratulations and well deserved.

Yours,

Gideon

Gideon,

With the happy news I have also heard whispers of potentially annulling the marriage. Will hang around corners and try to find out more —

Would rather be a shame to end it now at such a high note, honestly. I feel like our institutions have both learned so much, and it’s been really nice to have this consistent relationship with you.

I trust you feel the same?

Yours always,

Bryce

—

Bryce is not really prone to having his mouth run faster than his mind. Even if it sometimes seems that he just says out of pocket stuff, there’s thought behind it.

Most of the time.

He’s watching Gideon at the tail end of a ramble, studying the movement of his mouth, catching every third word.

“—What I think, at least. You, Bryce?”

“That’s why I really like you.” The words slip out of Bryce so easily, his choice of phrasing not fully hitting until the sentence can’t be taken back.

“I’m sorry?”

Ah. Ah. He really just said that.

Gideon looks legitimately lost. He waits for an explanation, but he is going to have to keep waiting. Bryce’s mind is empty, busy, blown white, nothing but a mad scramble for words.

The break in the conversation stretches longer. Oh dear. Verbal blunder!

What a pickle. What does he do?? While certainly he has been a bit more careless with letting his feelings colour his words lately, hinting or hoping, he was not prepared for it to all come out today.

Does Gideon know? Probably he suspects; Gideon’s not that dense. Not generous enough to let him down easy, but maybe he might, if he’s being polite.

Though, put a word on it, and there will be fallout. What could he gain, having it said and heard? ‘Shoot your shot’, but the odds are a hundred to one. He could back up, play it off as a bad joke. There’s some way to recover the conversation, reorient them both on steady ground. It’s the less risky option.

But honestly…does he really want to?

Flushing briefly, Bryce makes the decision to lean into his initial slip of the tongue and continues,

“I like you, Gideon.”

Gideon blinks. Slow. Processing.

The words Bryce just spoke seem to expand and take up all the space in the room, suffocating the thought of anything else. Bryce watches the shift in Gideon’s face, feeling lightheaded.

Gideon prepares to speak.

Bryce is giddy.

A shoe is about to drop.

“And what,” says Gideon, tone careful, “do you want me to do with this information?”

Brushing past his racing heart, Bryce shrugs about it. “Now you know.” He says it as if it’s just matter-of-fact.

One. Two. Three heartbeats of silence. Bryce looks away from Gideon, tries to force out the tension in his body. He’s standing over the edge of some cliff, no safety net, suspended by only a single breath.

Haltingly, Gideon speaks again at last. “I think you know what I’m going to say. I…I’m not interested, but I’m flattered. Thank you for telling me. I…appreciate the honesty.”

There it is. Bryce starts to freefall.

Gideon looks at him, concerned. “Bryce?”

For whatever reason, this provokes a laugh out of him. A snort, a long train of chuckles. His breath cuts in and out between wheezes.

“Bryce?” Gideon’s voice has more urgency to it this time.

Bryce holds up a hand as he steadies his breathing. “I’m…M’fine.” He doesn’t know what brought on the laughing fit, he’s not usually a nervous laugher. “Yeah, thanks for letting me down quick.”

“Of course. It’s the least I could do.”

Bryce shakes his head. “Dude am I ever going to get all of your formal training out of you.”

Gideon responds like it’s a serious concern. “Let me rephrase then: Sure thing, man. ” He dons an accent so ridiculous that Bryce chokes on a smile.

”Easy, easy.”

Gideon hurrumphs and they are almost normal.

Bryce speaks what’s on his mind. “I thought you would’ve known.” His laugh is breathy-fast. Play it off, play it off. “Are you telling me I made a fool of myself for no reason?”

Gideon shakes his head, an answer to both statements. “You do enough of that already.”

Again Bryce bursts into laughter, bending over.

“Hey?”

Bryce looks up. Now Gideon looks away, twisting his fingers into pretzels and he asks, “We’re…we’re still friends?”

“Of course we’re friends.” This too is easy to say.

—

APPLICATION to instate a petition for declaration of nullity of marriage. Heard by JUDGE. at Vancouver on the 15th of August, 1915 .

All, for the petition.

None, contra.