Chapter Text
Gustavo didn’t enjoy fiction.
As a child, survival was always a more pressing matter—he had little energy left to care for the fates of made-up people. Maybe other little boys could dream of being cowboys and superheroes. Gustavo dreamed of a full stomach, of clothes that fit, of shoes for his bare and bloodied feet. All of that was as fantastical to him as any comic book.
When he grew older, ambition joined survival as his animating forces, and he had even less attention to spare. He used his imagination to see the potential in the real world—potential that others missed because they were well-fed and too busy dreaming of things that could never be. While they built castles in the air, he built fortunes in reality. Far more satisfying.
Max had been different.
He came from the slums, the same as Gustavo. He hunted opportunity, too. But his imagination was so huge and dazzling that it could encompass multiple worlds, real and imagined, with attention left to spare. Gustavo had never met someone so aware of potential—who saw possibilities in places Gustavo would never dream.
It’s what attracted Gustavo to him at first. Not as a romantic partner—as a valuable asset. Gustavo’s funding of his education was not a benevolent act. It was the sharpening of a tool he could use.
It didn’t stay that way for long. Max had such beautiful dreams, impossible to resist. And those dreams included Gustavo, for reasons he could never fathom.
But it was a mistake to dream, just as he’d always suspected. The vultures and wolves set upon them with talons and teeth, ripping that beautiful dream to shreds.
He doubted he’d ever let himself dream again.
***
Gale was not Max’s replacement.
How could he be, when Max was irreplaceable? No, Gustavo merely needed someone who knew the science and had the moral flexibility to work with him. Not a partner. Not a friend. Not anything more.
Still. Gustavo wasn’t blind to the similarities. Gale had Max’s enthusiasm—an irrepressible eagerness for the possible. He had his curiosity, if his apartment was anything to go by, which Gustavo took in as he sat on the couch while Gale made their tea.
A hookah pipe sat on the table in front of him. Propped up on another table was a lute. A telescope peered out the window. Photographs of mountaineering decorated the walls—his photography, presumably, if the collection of vintage cameras perched on a shelf was any indication. Unusual plants dominated one corner. A clock made from a potato ticked surreally on a shelf. And everywhere, stacks of books.
Cluttered, but not messy. Everything here had a cherished place. Controlled chaos.
Max's place had been much the same.
“Which kind of tea would you like?” Gale asked from the kitchen. “Or do you want me to surprise you?”
Gustavo stretched his mouth into a genial smile. People found it warm and genuine. It was easier to achieve with Gale than with others. “Surprise me.”
Gale looked over his shoulder with a smile of his own—nothing practiced about it. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He set two cups on a bamboo tray and fetched mesh strainer balls and a couple of cannisters from the cupboard. He carefully filled each ball with loose leaves and placed one in each cup before turning his attention back to the kettle. A bead of red appeared on the silver as he pointed his infrared thermometer at it.
Briefly, Gustavo wondered if the thermometer was a prop meant to impress him— you see, Mr. Fring, I’m meticulous in everything I do! But he dismissed the idea. No, this was not a put-on. It most likely never occurred to Gale not to use an infrared thermometer to make tea.
“There we are,” Gale said cheerfully. “Seventy-one point one degrees Celsius for yours.” He removed the kettle from the burner and poured the water into one cup, then returned it to the flame. “And a bit more heat for mine.”
“Does the water temperature matter that much for different varieties of tea?” Gustavo asked, not out of genuine curiosity, but to give Gale the chance to explain to him. Gale still hesitated too much when Gustavo asked questions—not from dishonesty, but because Gustavo intimidated him. He needed to get used to explaining things to Gustavo. Their arrangement wouldn’t work otherwise.
Besides, Gustavo enjoyed Gale’s enthusiasm.
Gale’s eyes lit up. “Oh yes, very much! With tea, it’s all about the subtle differences. All tea comes from the same plant—Camellia sinensis. The different varieties merely reflect at which point in its growth the tea is plucked, and how it’s processed.” He pointed the thermometer at the kettle again—not quite ready yet, it seemed. “The younger a tea is, the cooler you want the water, or else it scalds. The older teas can take a little more heat.”
“So you’re giving me a young tea?”
Gale laughed—a chirp, like a bird. “Yes. But I’m getting ahead of myself.” He raised the thermometer again—satisfied this time. He shut off the burner and poured the water into the second cup.
A few more minutes of fussing and the tea was done. Gale brought the tray over to the couch and set it on the coffee table.
“And which one is mine?” Gustavo asked.
Gale pointed to the cup on the right. “Sugar?” he asked.
“No thank you.” Gustavo picked up the cup and took a sip. He’d never had anything quite like it.
“What do you taste?” Gale asked.
He took another sip. “It’s… floral, almost.”
“Yes! That’s Bai Mu Dan white tea—harvested just before the leaves and buds are fully open. A subtle, sophisticated flavor. It takes a sensitive palate to appreciate it.”
Flattery, but sincere. Gustavo nodded to Gale’s cup. “And what are you drinking?”
“Tieguanyin—a type of oolong. The name roughly translates to ‘Iron Goddess of Mercy’.”
“And what does the tea of the goddess of mercy taste like?”
“A little nutty, with a surprisingly sweet aftertaste.”
Was that a wink? Gale seemed much more at ease in his little realm. It was a good idea for Gustavo to come. He wanted Gale to be comfortable with him.
They took a few moments to appreciate their tea. It really was excellent; Gustavo had expected nothing less. “So you are happy with your new equipment?” Gustavo asked eventually.
Gale set his cup down. “Happy doesn’t begin to cover it, Mr. Fring! I’ve never had the opportunity to work with equipment of such caliber, and I swear to you, I won’t let you—”
“Gale,” Gustavo interrupted, gentle but firm. “I have every confidence in you. You don’t need to keep reassuring me. And please, call me Gus.”
“All right, Gus.” The name came out almost like a hiccup, and he let out an awkward laugh as a flush spread over his cheeks. “Sorry.”
Gustavo tilted his head. “Why are you sorry?”
“Oh—I don’t know. I’m just—awkward.”
Gustavo took pity on him and changed the subject. “Did you really climb Everest?” he asked, nodding to one photograph on the wall.
“Yes!” he said, his enthusiasm returning. “A tremendous experience—although it’s sad. Did you know that there’s a bunch of trash up there? There’s no way to clean it up, so whatever gets left there stays. For my next big hike, I’ll go somewhere less commercial. Mount Khuiten in Mongolia, maybe. It’s extremely remote—it’d be a real adventure.” He flexed his hands around his cup. “That’s what I’m using the money for. Adventures.”
Interesting. Gustavo had wondered. He’d yet to meet someone who couldn’t be bought. However, the more he got to know Gale, the less it made sense that he would risk so much for money. There wasn’t a trace of greed in him.
Gus smiled. “I can’t think of a better use for it.”
Gale flushed again. “Really?”
“Really.” Gustavo laid a hand on his shoulder. Gale was soft under his touch—not just the smooth fabric of his well-worn T-shirt, but the flesh below had a pleasant yield to it, like touching a toy bear. He imagined his hair would be soft too, with its wispy curls like lamb’s wool.
Gustavo took his hand away. Where had that thought come from?
“My parents were overprotective, but as soon as I got out on my own—” His voice shifted. “Something Tookish woke up inside him, and he wished to go and see the great mountains, and hear the pine-trees and the waterfalls, and explore the caves, and wear a sword instead of a walking-stick.” He paused. “Ah, that’s from a book. It always spoke to me.”
He didn’t recognize the word Tookish. “A lovely sentiment,” he said.
They chatted more about Gale’s plans for adventures—not just mountains, but cities and seas, savannahs and jungles, the arctic and the tropical. He wanted to see it all. When they finished their tea, Gale brought the tray to the kitchen. Gustavo stood and browsed his bookcases—plenty of science titles, but lots of literature too.
His gaze lit upon a folder decorated with lightning and titled Lab Notes. He recognized it from the other day, when they had unveiled the new lab equipment together. Curious, he picked it up and began leafing through it—
—only to have it snatched from his hands moments later. “Sorry!” Gale squeaked and then cleared his throat. “There’s some… personal material in there.”
Gustavo blinked in astonishment at Gale’s flushed face. He seemed almost panicked. “My apologies,” he said. “I should not have been nosy.”
Gale tucked the folder under one arm and rubbed his neck. “I mean, it is labeled lab notes—you couldn’t have known.” He let out a nervous titter. “I should separate things out, but everything is all whorled together in the ol’ noggin.” He tapped his temple. “Sorry,” he repeated.
Gustavo used his warmest smile again. “Think nothing of it. The fault is mine.” He gave Gale another pat. “I have enjoyed our conversation, but I’m afraid I must be going. We should talk more soon.”
“Of course, Mr. Fring.”
“Gus,” he corrected gently.
“Right. Gus.” He smiled a little. Shy. Sweet. Soft.
Gustavo turned the encounter over in his mind as he walked to his car. What was in that folder? He didn’t suspect Gale of anything duplicitous, but at the same time…the reaction had been odd. He pulled out his cell phone.
Mike picked up on the first ring. “Yeah?”
“There’s a document I need to see, without it being known that I’ve seen it.”
An affirmative grunt, and then, “Give me the details—I’ll take care of it.”
Gustavo filled him in and shut the phone with a satisfied snap. It was nice to have people to rely on. Hopefully after he saw what was in that folder, he could still count Gale among them.