by Andrea Speed, A. B. Gayle, Jessie Blackwood, J. J Levesque, Katisha Moreish
Haven Falls #165 - Coming Down
Miles Sutherland, Flynn Archer and Aiden Parker
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After a few minutes of aimless walking, the night air cleared Miles’s head long enough to realize he was still thirsty. He stopped and glanced around. He’d ended up heading uphill instead of down for some strange reason. The lights of Haven Falls spread out beneath him. The entrance to the hospital stood not far away. Funny how even without conscious thought his feet had led him here. Maybe that’s all he was good for now. Work.
He could go in and get a bottle from the automatic dispenser but no doubt he’d get shanghaied by Millie wanting to know all the gossip from the opening. He really didn’t feel like sharing.
He turned and headed down the road to Celestial Falls. Typical. On Independence Day he’d been one of the few residents not to go there and now everyone was in town, it seemed to be the perfectly logical place to go.
The ground still bore reminders of the previous day’s rain. After spending most of his life in arid areas, firstly outback Australia, then Africa, Afghanistan and Iraq, it seemed strange to be in an area where water was no longer a scarce resource. Already the air was growing damp and a mist seemed to shroud everything.
According to his watch, there were still a couple of hours before the sun was due to rise. If he lived in the southern hemisphere he might have been able to see a solar eclipse, but there was nothing to see here. What little moonlight there was hardly made a dent in the surrounding darkness. Picking his way carefully, he followed the path leading to the falls. In the still of night, the running water was the best guide toward his destination.
He started peeling off his shirt when he got close enough. Boots, jeans and undies joined it, making a messy pile on the large rock that overhung the pool at the bottom. The icy chill on his head as he stood underneath the cascading water scattered the last remnants of his drunkenness. Shit. He turned his face and caught some of the water directly in his mouth, letting it roll over his tongue before spitting it out. Fuck it tasted good. He took a deep breath and filled his mouth again and again, swallowing as if he was as parched as the earth he knew so well. When he’d drunk as much as possible he turned around again and let the water dump on his shoulders.
After a while, the shards of ice numbed his skin so much he hardly registered the cold. As his body tuned out, his brain took over, images and sounds hitting where physical stimuli no longer had any impact. After a while he moved forward out of the spray and let the water gradually drain away. The urge to relieve himself grew so strong, he planted both feet firmly on the ground and let his piss join the stream running between his feet. His cock grew warm in his hands from the urine running through its length. When he finished he kept hold of his shaft and started pumping. At least one part of him was warm.
He hadn’t wanted to attend the opening. He should have trusted his gut instinct. He’d been too bloody focused on spending time with Gil, getting to know him better, but the sight of him kissing the undertaker had soon shown how little chance he had there. While drowning his sorrows, his eyes had been drawn to the buff bodies grinding to the music. After a while most of the revellers had removed their shirts and stuck them into the waistband of their jeans. The wall to wall flesh, some smooth, some hairy had stirred another memory he’d tried to forget. He and Darren at the Mardi Gras After Party in the Hordern Pavilion a few years ago. Bodies gyrating around them, fists pumping in the air as the DJ’s pumped out the music. The two week holiday had been such a strange oasis in their lives. A world away from the dirt and dust they’d had to work in. The difference almost staggeringly surreal. He’d had trouble letting go, but Darren had chided him, telling him to just enjoy the moment. To chill.
His hand was flying now, the dry roughness adding its own burn to the heated flesh. He’d had to move in a couple of times on bastards who seemed to think Darren was by himself. The virus hadn’t turned into full blooded AIDS at that stage and the only sign he was sick was the darkness around his eyes that added to his beauty.
“Darren!” Miles arched back, his body a tight coil as rope after rope of cum spurted out. Tears flooded down his cheeks. He wiped them off with the back of his hands and washed himself again under the water. It wasn’t just that he missed his partner, there was no bloody way he could start all over again. The two of them had been friends and then lovers for so long. Each knowing their hearts, their souls were safe in each other’s care. He couldn’t just lay it out on the line, trusting and hoping someone wouldn’t trample all over it.
Miles grabbed his undies and roughly dried himself down before dressing again and shoving one end of the damp CKs into his back jeans pocket. He’d bloody well go commando. Wouldn’t be the first time.
The walk back into town seemed to pass in a moment. The loud barking of a dog attracted his attention. For a second he thought it might have been Roofie so he headed toward the sound. A taxi was pulled up outside a small house and someone seemed to be struggling with their passenger.
* * * *
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
A hand gripping his shoulder woke Miles. He blinked and tried to focus. Flynn Archer was glaring down at him, anger blazing out of his brown eyes. He grabbed onto Miles’s shirt, but what passed for patience had been washed out by the cold of the waterfall. With one swift jerk Miles broke free and surged to his feet. The chair hadn’t been very comfortable to start with. It was a wonder he’d managed to fall asleep.
He took one quick glance at the bed and confirmed Aiden hadn’t stirred. Cold rage turned hot as he collared the smaller man and twisted his hands around the material, lifting him off the ground and barreling him backwards into the wall.
“Keep your fucking voice down. I’ve only just got him off to sleep.”
“Oh really? Doing what?”
“For your information, smarty pants, he’s been drugged. When I arrived Cecilia Lancaster was trying to get him out of the taxi all by herself. If I hadn’t helped she’d have probably given herself a hernia. We managed to locate his keys, she took care of the dog, and I carried Aiden inside. Satisfied?” Miles relaxed his stranglehold slightly but kept a wary eye on Flynn. “I gave him a few drinks of water to keep him hydrated and put him to bed.”
"What the hell were you doing out here?”
Miles rubbed the back of his neck. Sleeping in chairs always put it out. He probably had drool running down from the edges of his mouth. He swiped a hand across the edge of his lips and was glad to see it came away dry. “After I left the club, I went for a walk and was thinking I might poke my head back into the Steele, but I heard a dog bark. Thought Roofie might have come looking for me.” He grinned. At least someone loved him!
Flynn eyed him warily. Why did he keep running into Mad Max? The town just wasn’t that small. “You’re not ... are you keepin’ an eye on me or somethin’?”
A chuckle escaped as Miles walked over and placed a hand on Aiden’s forehead. “Get over yourself, mate. This one’s much better looking than you.” He turned and put one hand up in the air. “Scout’s honor. I only put him to bed. Nice bod though.” He couldn’t resist the last dig. “Look, he was in a bad way. It was either that or take him to the hospital. They wouldn’t have done anything differently. I knew you’d be along, eventually.”
If Max was a stalker, he was kind of rubbish at it. Besides, did stalkers look like him? Usually they had a maniacal look in their eye, not like hangdog sad sacks. “Someone dosed Aiden at the club. He got a little grabby with some people and I had to bounce him before someone hurt his pretty face. Is that underwear in your pocket?”
Miles pulled the offending article out and grinned. “Yep. Been swimmin’. Wanna’ make anything of it?” He pushed the still damp CKs back into his pocket. “For your information, the cab driver reported she was in two minds whether to take your precious boyfriend to the hospital herself. His breathing got qui
te ragged at one stage. If I hadn’t come along who knows where he would have ended up. Mind you, I know what you mean by ‘grabby’. He made a pass at me. Luckily he won’t remember when he wakes up. In fact he probably won’t remember anything about tonight.”
“He made a pass at you? Holy shit, he was more fucked up than I thought.” Flynn put a hand on Aiden’s throat. His breathing and pulse seemed fine. Was Max exaggerating a bit? Maybe. Judging by the way he’d been driving the porcelain bus earlier, he was probably still a bit drunk. “Since when do you live around here?”
Miles sighed. “I don’t. I explained how I came to be here. Frankly, I couldn’t give a shit if you believe me or not. The problem with drugs is their effect can be heightened if dehydration occurs. Did you make sure he had a drink with him when you kicked him out? For someone who professes to care about someone, you seem pretty casual about the whole thing. Was there much evidence of drug taking at the club tonight? I didn’t see much. I may have looked as drunk as a skunk, but I wasn’t. I have an ulcer, and the alcohol affected it. That’s why I puked, you moron.”
“Me, a moron? You shouldn’t drink booze at all with an ulcer. Even I know that. And for your information, I caught a few guys dropping stuff in the bathroom. And I don’t mean dropping kids off at the pool.” Flynn ran a hand through his hair, and wondered if this night was ever going to be over. Technically it was day now, but it seemed like the same thing to him. He hadn’t slept since yesterday.
“Thanks for your advice, Dr Archer.” Miles walked up beside Flynn. In his boots he was a couple of inches taller and definitely outweighed him. Not that this was a pissing contest. “It might pay you to take better care of him in future. You don’t know how lucky you are having a boyfriend like him. And no, that’s not a threat. Just an observation. You don’t seem to be very thankful for my help, so I’ll go. I didn’t have a stethoscope with me, so I couldn’t check his heart. I assume you know all about his health records and what his body can and can’t stand. You may be surprised how sick some seemingly healthy people can be.” He gave Flynn a bit of a shove when he walked past him. If he went home now he might manage a couple of hours sleep before his next shift at the hospital.
That was it, the absolute final straw in a shitty, shitty week. “You tell me how the fuck I’m supposed to deal with all of this, wise ass! I have some psycho bastard of a mortician who dismembered my father and left bits of him all over the park, and who has tried to kill me at least once. Now he’s been threatening Aiden, and I can’t protect him all the time, especially since I don’t know what he wants from me! How do I deal with that, Max? Huh? What’s your solution? Fix it for me, oh magic Aussie genie.”
The nearest chair seemed as good a place as any to collapse into as the impassioned speech sunk into his skull. For once, the mask of indifference had slipped from Flynn’s face and a trace of real emotion shone through. Suddenly he looked what he was. A young man at least ten years his junior. “The hands belonged to your father? Look. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that.” Miles frowned, the surname definitely hadn’t been Archer. “Do the police know of the connection or the attempts on your life?” What else had he said? Something about a mortician? “If that prissy blond mortician is behind this, it will give me great pleasure to tear him limb from limb.”
“What, Jude? Please, he’s a yes man kiss ass. He doesn’t know what Vale’s doing and he likes it that way. And no, the cops don’t know about any of this. I can’t go to the cops.” Flynn slumped down, sitting on the edge of the bed. Aiden wasn’t going to wake up any time soon if his outburst hadn’t woken him up.
“Vale? Why am I not surprised.” Miles sat and stared at the rug on the floor. The rich ochre tones reminded him of some of the African rugs he’d seen when he was there. He was still trying to process that the hands belonged to Flynn’s father and that Vale was trying to kill him or Aiden. “Stan worked for Vale.” He muttered the words as much to himself as anything. There were too many unanswered questions. “We should report this to the sheriff’s office.”
Flynn pinched the bridge of his nose. He had fucked this up. He never should have come here. Why did he leave Seattle? “You go right ahead, but leave my name out of it. Or diminish my role, if you have to mention me.”
Flynn’s anonymous call to the station to report the break-in at Stan’s house made more sense now. Miles may not be Sherlock Holmes but the body language Flynn was exhibiting showed he tensed whenever the word police or sheriff was mentioned. Miles eyed him speculatively. There was a lot the young man wasn’t telling him. Being vague about who told him what, when and why wouldn’t make anything he said very believable if he went to the police. “Okay, mate, you have two choices. Either I walk out of here, let you stew in your own juice and tell the police everything I know, or you come clean to me. If your reluctance to speak to the police is because you’re hiding something that’s wrong, in my book... heck, in anyone’s book, I can’t promise I’ll keep my trap shut. It’s up to you to convince me that’s the best course of action.”
Flynn laughed. It was even funnier than The Giant Spider Invasion, and that was pretty damn funny. He held his arms out as he looked at Mad Max and smiled sardonically. “You really haven’t figured it out yet? Wow, you’re a doctor. I thought you guys were supposed to be smarter than us scum of the earth types. Flynn Archer doesn’t exist. He’s a valid Social Security number, swiped from a dead man. He has a birth certificate that looks awesomely real, until you track down the hospital named, and discover it has never existed. I don’t exist, Miles. At least ... Flynn doesn’t.”
“So, all this shit secrecy is just to protect your precious hide.” Miles stood and walked to the door. “Does it occur to you that by keeping quiet you’re possibly endangering the lives of the people around you? I don’t give a flying fuck who you are. I worked out ages ago that your surname wasn’t Archer. I thought though there must be a good reason for you to suppress all the information you obviously carry around in that precious head of yours. I hope it keeps you warm at night if anything happens to Aiden.”
“Has it occurred to you that lying about who I am is the only reason I’m still alive? Everyone in my family is dead. Even my step-mother, who never liked me. Dead. That picture that someone - Riley? - sent me even had a message on it: keep running. Somebody wants me dead, it has something to do with my dad, and I don’t know what. I don’t know who he was anymore. I thought he was a dick ass who murdered my mother, but now I don’t know what to think, or who to trust.”
“Trust? Is that your problem. You don’t trust me? Or the police?”
“Why the hell should I trust you? Why not? You’re poking Vale as much as I am. You’re probably in danger too, you just don’t know it yet.”
Miles walked back and glanced at the bed. Aiden still slept peacefully. His longish hair mussed around his face and his dark eyelashes resting on his cheeks. Miles’s fingers itched to smooth the strands away from his face, but he doubted Flynn would appreciate his concern was purely professional. It was. That was the strange part. “Look, mate, I know you have no reason to trust me, but then again you have no reason not to trust me. If I can help in any way, let me know. From what I’m hearing, you sound as if you’re way out of your depth.”
“You haven’t the slightest idea. But at least you are too.” Flynn stood with a sigh, and looked back at Aiden. Max was certainly giving him a weird look. Not ... pervy, really, more avuncular. Weird. “I can’t tell him. He can’t know the truth about me.”
“Sometimes people are stronger than we give them credit for. In a way by keeping the truth from him you’re endangering him more than by telling him. You’d be surprised at how strong seemingly innocent, sweet people can be. Take it from one who knows.”
Flynn shook his head. “He knows about Vale, he knows about my dad, he knows all he needs to know if I have any chance of keeping him safe. He just can’t know I’m a lie, ‘cause I don’t think I’d be good dying knowing he h
ates me. I’d rather he hates me after I’m dead, and I don’t know it.” He walked off, figuring now was as good a time as any to share the rest of it. He couldn’t make heads nor tails of Riley’s diary, so why not give it to an egghead, no matter how naive he seemed?
“Well, that’s fucked up logic if ever I heard it.” Miles called out as loud as he dared and followed Flynn out of the room. “I friggin hate it when people decide who should know this and who should know that. You weren’t listening to me. If he loves you, he’ll love you no matter what you’ve done. Or don’t you believe you deserve his love?” Shit. This was becoming worse than Days of our Lives. “Quit the melodrama and come clean.”
Flynn laughed again. Max was hilarious. He missed his calling as a comedian. “You’ve never been in an actual relationship, have you? People disappoint you, they leave you, they toss you out when you’re not what they want you to be. I don’t know what or who Aiden thinks I am, but he thinks I’m so much better than I actually am. I can’t live up to what he wants. I’m just a fuck that got out of control. I think he’s lonely. And me, I’m just a fuck up. I need to find another fuck up to burden. Hey, you available?” Flynn made a beeline for the kitchen and Aiden’s freezer. He asked if he could keep something in here, and Aiden agreed, thinking he was just being weird (as usual). But inside the TV dinner box was Riley’s diary, still sealed in its bag. He took out the dinner, put it on the counter, and opened the box. (He never bothered to glue it shut, mainly because he was still trying to figure it out.)
Miles watched what Flynn was doing and raised his eyebrows. “You know you sprout a lot of bullshit. Have you ever listened to yourself speak?”
“No, because I’m full of shit.” Flynn tipped the box, and the plastic bag covered journal slid out on the countertop.