Link and Haddon Chapter Seven: If Wishes Were Flowers

Haddon closed the door behind Bryan. Good riddance, as far as he was concerned. They didn’t need that kind of help. He turned and looked down the hall, frowning. Link had been pacing up and down the hall, phone pressed to his ear, for the past twenty minutes. “Any idea who he’s talking to?”

Danny nodded. “His mom.”

“Fucking hell. That can’t be good.” He edged down the hall so he could eavesdrop.

“I don’t care,” Link was saying. “No, really, I don’t. You can tell yourself I do all you want, and you can believe that, if it makes you feel better, but the reality is, I don’t care.” He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. “If this is all you called for -- No, I don’t... Damn it, will you listen to me?”

Haddon stifled a growl and the desire to rip the phone out of Link’s hand and throw it across the room. The last thing they needed right now was Link’s mother getting him all riled up. That woman could drive a saint to drink. Or worse.

“Just stop, alright? Just stop it. No. If you’re so concerned, you help him. Then let him rot. Gee, I don’t know, maybe if he had to deal with a consequence or two, he might learn something.”

Haddon sighed. Great. Judging from what he could hear, Link’s older brother, Connor was in trouble. Yet again.

Link ripped the phone away from his ear and raised his arm, but Haddon stopped him before he could throw it. He took the phone, snapped it shut, and shoved it in his pocket. “What happened?”

“What do you think happened? My idiot brother got arrested again. Mom wants me to bail him out. Says I owe it to him.”

“Bullshit!” Danny charged into the hallway. “You don’t owe him anything! You’re not going to bail him out, are you?”

Haddon held up a hand. “No one’s bailing out anybody. Just calm down.”

“I’m not bailing him out!” Link turned and slammed his fist into the closet door.

“Agreed.” Haddon took a step back. Little though he might be, angry Link could still be formidable, and once angered, it could be hard to switch his focus. “Don’t let her get to you, baby. She’s just trying to upset you, like she always does. Don’t give her any leverage.”

“You don’t owe him anything, you know that, we know that, and your mother knows that.” Danny laid a hand on Link’s shoulder.

Link’s phone rang again and before he could answer it, Haddon grabbed it first. “No. No more of this tonight.” He hit ignore on the phone, opened the closet, and tossed the phone up onto the top shelf. He turned to Danny. “No offense, but--”

Danny held up his hands and nodded. “You got it. I’m outta here.” He grabbed his coat and hurried out the door.

Haddon turned his attention back to Link. His lover stood stock still, breath coming in ragged gasps, face red, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Nobody got under Link’s skin like his mother did.
Haddon took Link’s hand and led him into the living room. “Sit down.”

Link didn’t respond, but he did sit, though he shook so hard he could barely stay upright.

With a muttered curse, Haddon headed to the kitchen, grabbed the only coffee mug Keoni hadn’t broken, and fixed some peppermint tea. Back in the living room he sat down next to Link and pressed the cup to his lips. “Drink some tea, baby. You’ll feel better.”

Link sipped at the tea, tears starting to course down his cheeks. He leaned into Haddon’s shoulder and pressed his face tight against Haddon’s neck. “I don’t owe him anything.”

“No, you don’t.” Haddon slipped his arm around Link and held him close.

“He beat the shit out of me when I was little. Beat me up, and she just stood there and watched. Just...let him.” His voice rose an octave with each word.

“I know.” Heart breaking, Haddon rocked them back and forth, trying to summon the words to soothe Link. Words that didn’t exist.

“She said to me... On the phone tonight she said to me blood is blood. Blood is blood? What the hell is that supposed to mean to me?” Link gazed up at Haddon through tears. “What am I supposed to do with that? She hated me so much, she hated what I was so much that she let him torture me, and I’m supposed to just... What? Forgive and forget and run to bail him out whenever he’s stupid enough to get caught? That’s what it is, you know? No matter what he does, he’ll always be better than me because he’s not the freak. He’s not the tranny faggot.”

Haddon swallowed hard. “You’re not a tranny faggot, baby.”

“She thinks I am!” he hissed.

“Well, there’s a word for what she is. It’s four letters long and starts with a c.” He held the cup of tea up again. “Drink the rest of this, and then we’ll go take a nice, long bath and you can relax and forget all about her.”

“If only wishes were flowers,” Link murmured.

“I’d pick you a field full, baby.” Haddon stood and held out his hand. “Now come on. Come with me.”
By the time Haddon had the tub full and both of them stripped, Link had descended into full blown tears. He maneuvered them into the tub, Link in front of him, and held Link tight while the storm raged inside his lover’s heart. How long it would take, he couldn’t say. Might be over quickly, or it might last hours. He made a mental note to visit Link’s mother in the morning and lay down some new terms with her. She couldn’t keep doing this -- she couldn’t be allowed to torment him like this.

Anger burning him from within, Haddon leaned back against the tub, hummed softly, and waited.

Link and Haddon Chapter Six: When it Rains

Link opened the front door and gestured Danny and another man inside. “It’s about time you got here.”

“Sorry, we hit traffic out of Palmdale,” Danny explained as they entered. “Guys, this is Bryan Phillips.”

“Bryan Phillips?” Haddon stepped in front of the newcomer, blocking the way. “Wait a minute, he’s your paranormal expert? The Detroit Butcher?”

Bryan held out a hand. “I--”

“What?” Link looked back and forth between them. If Haddon had known a paranormal investigator, why hadn’t he just said so? “You know each other?”

“I know of him. Enough to know I don’t want him in my house.” Haddon folded his arms across his chest. 

“He didn’t kill anyone,” Danny defended.

“The word butcher kinda implies he did.” Link folded his arms across his chest too, unconsciously mimicking his lover. He knew Danny well enough to tell when the man was hiding something. “What’s the deal?”

Bryan sighed. “It was a misunderstanding of sorts.”

“A misunderstanding?” Haddon raised an eyebrow and shook his head. He stabbed a finger in Bryan’s chest. “You drove that man insane!”

“He was already insane!” Bryan took a step toward Haddon, head high and chin and chest thrust out in defiance.

Link pushed in between them and shoved Bryan away. “Explain.”

“I was called in to investigate a suspected haunted house. I was told things were moving around in the house, even going missing, and that weird sounds were being heard. What I wasn’t told, and what I didn’t find out until after things had already gone to far, was that the man who lived in the house had Dissociative Identity Disorder.”

“Dissociative...” Link trailed off. What the heck was that?

“Multiple personalities,” Bryan explained. “He was the one doing the so-called haunting. By the time I figured things out, the media had gotten involved somehow, things had spiraled out of control and it was too late.”

“Too late, how?” Link pressed.

“Too late as in he took his own life,” Haddon supplied. “Isn’t that right, Bryan?”

Bryan nodded. “Yes. Based on something I said, something he overheard me saying, he hung himself.” He faced Link. “There’s nothing you can say to me that hasn’t been said already, or that I haven’t said to myself.”

“He can help us.” Danny laid a hand on Link’s arm. “He’s not a bad guy.” He shot a glare at Haddon.

Haddon threw up his hands. “Right. Of course. He’s a great guy.”

Link frowned. On the one hand, Bryan certainly seemed less than trustworthy. On the other, the list of paranormal investigators they knew amounted to one name, and it was Bryan Phillips. He sighed and nodded.

“Seriously?” Haddon rubbed a hand over the top of his head and walked away.

“What do you want me to do? You want to keep the ghost? Maybe he can pay rent!” Link turned to Bryan. He hated going against Haddon’s wishes, but the situation needed to be dealt with. Now. “What do you need from us?”

“Show me where everything has been happening.”

Link lead the way into their small kitchen. He stood over by the sink, avoiding the hole in the wall as much as he could. Just the sight of it made his skin crawl. “Everything started when we opened up this wall.” He gestured to the hole.

Brian pulled a small device out of his left pocket and started poking around the wall. He stuck the device inside the hole, nodded, grunted, and faced Link. “Have the spirits tried to contact you?”

Link nodded. “Both of us. There’s a man and a woman, and the man keeps asking where is it.”

“Where is what?” Bryan looked back at the hole. “Did you take anything out of here?”

Haddon cursed. “We’re idiots.”

Link closed his eyes briefly and cursed as well. Where is it. Of course! The tiki! “We’re more than idiots. We’re fucking morons. We found a tiki in the hole.”

Bryan nodded, putting his device away. “Well, that’s it then. All you have to do is put the tiki back, and things should right themselves.”

Haddon paced away, his cell phone already up to his ear.

Link gestured to him. “He’s calling his sister. We gave her the tiki because she fell in love with it.”

“If you’ve got a possessive angry spirit, I’d say someone else fell in love with it, too. It’s probably something of great importance to the couple. Something personal.” Bryan rubbed his chin. “From childhood, even, perhaps.”

That made a lot of sense, come to think of it. “Keoni is Samoan, I think. Maybe the tiki has some importance to--”

“What?” Haddon shouted into his phone. “Why? To who? Well can you get it back? Fuck’s sake, Alice! You need to get it back. Fine. Call me the minute you hear from her.” He slapped his phone shut and turned to face Brian. “How bad would it be if we couldn’t get the tiki back?”

“What?” Link shivered as dread raced up his spine.

“On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst?” Bryan asked. “I’d say about a hundred. You’ve got to get that tiki back. These spirits aren’t going to rest until you do, and they’re only going to get angrier.”

“And more active, I’m assuming?” Danny asked.

Bryan nodded. “Unfortunately.”

“What can we expect?” Haddon leaned up against the sink next to Link. “I mean, what exactly are ghosts capable of anyhow?”

Bryan let out a low whistle. “Any number of things, depending on how long they’ve been around. Some can move objects--”

“Yeah, we’ve noticed.” Haddon reached up and pulled open a cupboard. “You’ll notice the lack of dishes. Keoni got a little pissed.”

“Ah. Well, then you’re in for a nightmare until you can get that tiki back.”

“What did Alice do with it?” Danny asked.

“She gave it to an ex-girlfriend of hers. They were Skyping and she had it sitting out and the woman begged her for it, so she mailed it to her.” Haddon rolled his eyes. “Anything for a piece of ass.”

“Mailed it?” Link groaned. Trust Alice to give away a ghostly heirloom. “To where?”

Haddon winced. “London.”

“London!” Link and Danny chimed at the same time.

“She’s pretty sure she can get it back, but the woman is on vacation and isn’t home. Alice is going to call her though, and see if a neighbor or someone else can get into the house and get the damned thing in the mail.” He threw up his hands. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”

Link started to respond when his pocket buzzed. He pulled out his phone, recognizing the number as his mother’s. Fuck’s sake. What now?

Link and Haddon Chapter 5: You Won't Like Him When He's Angry

Haddon rolled over and scrubbed his hand across his eyes. He peered down the hall at the glow of what he assumed was the television in the living room. He scooted over into the empty space beside him, buried his face in Link’s pillow and breathed in the scent of the man he loved. It wasn’t uncommon for Link to leave their bed in the middle of the night, especially on a night like this, when he’d had nightmares. But something was off. Haddon raised his head and squinted at the light - far too bright to be in the living room, it seemed to be emanating from... From the kitchen? And the burn was steady, not flashing in and out and changing colors like he’d expect from a program switching scenes or back and forth from commercials. Come to think of it, he couldn’t hear anything either. Link never had the thing blaring, but in a house this small, even the quietest sound carried.

He slid from bed, stuffed his feet into his slippers, and made his way to the door. The light only intensified, and he rounded the corner into the kitchen, the sight before him wringing a gasp from his throat. Link stood in the middle of the room, staring at the sink -- at the glow of light, to be more specific -- a smile on his transfixed face. He turned his head then and Haddon gestured him over, but his gaze instead followed something Haddon couldn’t see.

“Link?” Haddon whispered.

But Link just continued watching whatever it was. He laughed and shook his head, muttering to himself about how silly that man was.

Haddon frowned. This must be what had happened the other day, when John and Danny had showed up -- the vision that had led to them calling in a paranormal investigator. His frown deepened. What should he do? Try to wake Link? Was that even the right word? Was Link technically asleep or under some sort of...spell?

Haddon followed Link’s gaze wherever it went, though he could see nothing with his own eyes. Nothing but that glaring light. He couldn’t hear anything, either, and clearly Link could, judging by how he kept reacting to things - laughing or sighing, shaking his head and even letting out a whoop.
That sound must’ve changed something, triggered something. Link’s eyes went wide and he shook his head slowly, taking slow, measured steps backward. He held up his hands, palm outward, toward something. “What...what do you want?” he asked, his voice shaking.

He backed up some more, until he collided with Haddon. He slipped his arms around Link’s waist.
“No!” Link struggled and clawed at Haddon’s arms.

“It’s me! Calm down!” But all his efforts earned him were scratches and an attempt at being bitten.
The light shifted, surrounding them, and flared so brightly Haddon was forced to shut his eyes. Heat radiated in on them, and he ducked his head, trying desperately to escape it while still holding onto Link.

Haddon opened his eyes just enough to navigate the kitchen. He hauled himself and a now kicking and screaming Link toward the door that led to the living room. Two steps away though, he stopped dead in his tracks. A man stood in front of them. Not a man, really, he supposed -- that same strange hot light surrounded the man, and Haddon could see right through him. Right. Through. Him.

“Where is it?” the man asked. His voice came out as a garbled, almost wet sound, as if he’d been asking from under water.

Link slumped in Haddon’s arms, and he struggled under the change of weight. “Where is what?”

“Where is it?” That same question again, and this time Haddon detected an edge of anger in the tone.

He shook Link, trying to wake him, but keeping his eyes on the man. Or rather, the ghost, he reasoned. “Where is what? I don’t know what you’re looking for.”

“Where. Is. It?” With each word he stepped closer and closer, until he was face to face with Haddon, staring down at him, his face twisted by a menacing snarl.

Haddon shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re looking for.” The man’s gaze shifted to Link, and Haddon clutched his lover closer. “Leave him alone!”

The man reached out and Haddon backed them up. If he tried to run, would the ghost follow? Worse, would that make the ghost even angrier? What in the hell were ghosts capable of, anyhow? Could they do any real physical harm?

His question was answered as the man threw back his head and howled, a long, low, mournful sound. It might’ve been a heartbreaking moment, had the gesture not been accompanied by everything in the kitchen flying off the walls and out of the cabinets.

Haddon pushed Link to the floor and hunkered over him as pots and pans, dishes and cans of food rained down on them. A can of baked beans smacked him in the shoulder, and a copper-bottomed sauce pot landed a punch right to the top of his head. “Fuck!”

“Where is it?” the man asked again.

The last of the food hit the floor, and Haddon stood, putting himself between Link and the ghost. “I don’t know what you want from us!”

The man raised his fists and shook them at the ceiling. Around them, a whirlwind picked up, dragging the contents of the kitchen into it, circling them around Haddon and Link like inanimate vultures.

“Stop it!” Haddon reached for the man’s throat, but his hands went right through. “If I could help you, I would! But I don’t know how!” Brute force and threats wouldn’t work -- the ghost probably knew more about, well...ghosts than Haddon did. So he tried another tactic. “I want to help you! Tell me how! Tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll find it so you can rest. That’s what you want, right? To rest?” He eyed the ever-increasing-in-speed tornado around them.

The man looked down at him, squinted at him and finally nodded. “Find it.”

That was all he said, before he disappeared in a burst of light. The tornado dissolved, leaving Haddon standing in a room full of broken dishes, bent cans, and exploded cereal boxes.

Link stirred. “What...?” He sat up, looking around. “What the fuck?” He looked up at Haddon. “What did you do?”

“Me?” Haddon raised his eyebrow and shook his head quickly. “Oh, no. This was all you.”

“I did this?”

“You triggered it. At least, I think you did. I found you in here watching the...ghosts or whatever they are. They must’ve seen you, and then all hell broke loose. Incidentally, the big man wants to know where it is, and he wants us to find it.”

Link frowned and rubbed his eyes. “Find what?”

“Fuck if I know.” Haddon threw up his hands. “How much longer until that ghost hunter guy shows up?”

“Paranormal Investigator.” Link stood, tip-toeing around a shattered dinner plate. “Two weeks.”

“Two weeks.” Haddon looked around at the destruction and shook his head. Two weeks too damned long.

Link and Haddon Chapter Four: Meanwhile, at Dayre

Haddon paced back and forth in his office at Dayre, disgusted with himself for agreeing to meet with Mel. The man had nearly taken Link’s life, had nearly ruined Haddon’s. He didn’t deserve a second chance. 

“That’s not what I’m doing,” he muttered to the air. This wasn’t about second chances. He and Mel were over. Finished. Finito. This was about trying to forgive. Never mind that just hearing Mel’s voice the other day had made Haddon see red. Never mind that he wanted to rip the asshole limb from limb. Forgiveness. He had to stay focused on that.

“Hey boss?” Tony, Haddon’s bartender and life-long friend, stuck his head in the door. “Someone’s here to see you. Says he has an appointment?” He frowned and gave Haddon that you-want-I-should-beat-him-up? look. “Should I send him away?”

Haddon sighed and stood. “No, he’s right, we have an appointment. Do me a favor, though?”

“Anything.” Tony nodded quickly.

“I want you and Charlie to hang out behind the bar. I’m going to bring him over there, and I want you guys in earshot, and witnesses just in case.”

Tony squared his shoulders. “Is this guy bad news?”

“Something like that.” Haddon left the office with Tony on his heels. He waved Mel over to the bar and gestured to a stool. He waited until they were both seated, folded his arms across his chest. “So? You’re here. You wanted to talk. Talk.”

Mel glanced at Tony and Charlie. “Are they going to be here the whole time?”

“This is my business. They’re working.” Haddon shrugged. “Why? You have something to say that can’t be said in front of them?”

“I guess I just figured this would be a private conversation.”

That earned him a smirk. “Your days of private conversations with me ended when you tried to kill Link."

Mel looked away quickly then back, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “I wish you wouldn’t bring that up.”

“I wish you hadn’t done it.” Haddon leaned unfolded his arms, leaned one elbow on the bar and raised an eyebrow. If he was going to get this conversation done and over, he was going to have to keep Mel on track. “Say what you have to say. I’ve got things to do.”

Mel sighed. “I came here to say I’m sorry. About Link, about the way I treated you when we were together -- the drinking, the drugs. All of it. I know that probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but I am truly sorry. If I could go back and change things--”

“But you can’t, can you?” Haddon interrupted. “You can’t take back all the nights I wondered where you were. You can’t take back all the beds you woke up in that weren’t mine. You can’t take back all the piles of vomit I cleaned up, all the things you broke in drunken rages. All the trips to the emergency room. All the hours spent worrying, wondering would this be the time you didn’t pull out of it? You can’t take any of that back.” He stood and walked away, amazed and angry at himself that those memories still hurt so much, that he let Mel get to him like that.

Mel laid a hand on his shoulder but Haddon shrugged it off and turned. “Don’t. You don’t get to comfort me. You don’t have the right. You know who was there for me? Link. Link was the one holding my hand in the hospital while I waited to find out if you’d died. Link was the one who would come over and sit up with me while I waited to see if you’d come home. Link earned my trust and my love.”

“I know. And I’m sorry for that, too.” Mel smiled bitterly. “I’m sorry he ended up with what I wanted.”

Haddon cursed and shook his head. “You never wanted me. All you wanted was your next drink. Your next fix. You didn’t want a relationship or a partner. You wanted someone who would clean up after you and smooth things over with whoever you managed to piss off.”

“I deserve that.” Mel nodded.

“Fuck yes, you deserve that.” That and a lot more. Pent up anger surged through Haddon, making his hands shake. He turned and slammed a fist down on the bar.

Tony and Charlie looked up from their conversation. “Everything okay, boss?” Tony asked, eyes narrowed at Mel.

“Yeah.” Haddon waived them off. He took several deep breaths before spinning around to face Mel. He wanted to hit the man. Or hug him, and that seemed strange. A part of him, albeit a tiny part, was thrilled Mel had gotten clean and sober, thrilled Mel was trying to move on and make a life. But the bigger part of him was just angry and hurt.

Mel wiped at his eyes and shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Haddy. I wish I could make up for it all, or take it all back.”

“I told you not to call me that.” But despite the bravado, the sight of Mel’s tears still tugged at his heart the way they always had. He stepped forward on instinct and lifted a hand to brush the moisture away. “I know you’re sorry,” he whispered. “What I don’t know is if that’s enough. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Mel looked up at him, eyes glistening. “All I want is your forgiveness.”

“It’s not just me who has to forgive you, though, is it?” Haddon shook his head. Link deserved the apologies just as much as he did. And then there were Mel’s other friends, his family.

“No, it’s not. There’s no one I haven’t hurt, I’ll admit that. But I’m trying to make amends.” Mel took Haddon’s hands in his own. 

Haddon tugged himself free and took a step back. “What if you can’t?” His phone went off in his pocket, and the Friday the 13th ringtone told him it was his friend, John. He pulled the phone out and answered. “Hey.”

“Hey. You need to come home. Link needs you.”

“Wait, what?” He turned his back on Mel, fear gripping his heart. “Is he okay? What happened?”

“He’s fine. It’s just...It’s a little odd. Just come home.”

Haddon hit the End button, yelled to Charlie and Tony to watch the club, and left. Mel could work out his own issues. Right now, Link needed him.

Link and Haddon Chapter Three: Who You Gonna Call?

Link stretched and yawned, squinting at the bright rays of sunlight that pierced through the narrowly open blinds. He rolled over and looked at the clock. Eleven-forty-five. Holy shit! He’d been dead tired last night, but he’d never slept in this late. He’d even managed to miss seeing Haddon off. Though why his lover needed to go in so early on a Saturday was beyond him. No matter. They had all day tomorrow to spend together.

He rolled out of bed and slid his feet into his slippers, wiggling his toes and digging them into the fuzzy warmth. Did other people consider slippers a decadent treat, or was that just him? Chuckling, he headed for the bathroom, mentally going over his to-do list as he freshened up and dressed for the day. Or what was left of the day.

First order of business, of course, was brunch. Then onto kitchen construction, and finishing off the demolition of that wall. He pulled on a tank top and made his way into the kitchen, grabbed an apple and started absently munching while he considered the construction area, and the odd little hole within the hole. Haddon had told him all about the tiki, but neither of them had been able to come up with a reason for the thing to have been where it had been.

Link frowned. Why would a person stick something in a wall? He’d heard of planting a Saint Joseph statue upside down in a yard for luck in selling a house—his grandmother had sworn by all those old Catholic wives’ tales—but even a Google search hadn’t turned up anything related to sticking a tiki in a wall.

And for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out the mysterious draft that seemed to emanate from the hole. He swallowed a last bite of apple, dumped the core in the garbage, and walked over to the wall. The temperature dropped drastically about a foot away, and became downright freezing up close—nearly cold enough to send him searching for a coat. He leaned in and peered up along the studs, to the ceiling. Just like the dozen other times he’d done it, he saw no daylight, no cracks, nothing that would indicate air was getting in.

He shook his head. Maybe the issue was behind one of the studs? He wrapped his hand around one of the boards that made up the tiki’s hiding place, and tugged.

His vision became blurry and the floor under his feet seemed to shift left and right. A bright flash of red surrounded him, dimmed, and dissipated, followed by several more flashes, though all of them less intense. The frigid cold gave way to warmth, and he gasped. This wasn’t his kitchen.

Link now stood in the middle of a room he didn’t recognize. None of his belongings were there, and in fact, the placed seemed to be stuck in a time warp—no modern appliances, no overhead lighting. Instead, a large window over the sink and a couple lanterns provided light, and the warmth he’d felt radiated out from a hearth with a large, metal pot hanging over a crackling fire.

A man and a woman stood in front of the sink. They were just as odd as the rest of the house—she wore a pale blue dress with long sleeves and a high collar, and he looked like he’d just walked away from business meeting, complete with suit jacket and tie. They didn’t seem to notice him, didn’t turn to look at him, and they certainly didn’t seem as surprised to see him as he was to see them. She was quite beautiful, he had to admit, with pale skin, flowing blonde hair and big blue eyes. By contrast the man’s complexion was dark, his black hair short and curly atop his head, his eyes a deep brown Link could only describe as chocolate. She epitomized everything Link had ever imagined about women from the early 1900s, and the man, although far too skinny, reminded him of the Samoan wrestlers he’d grown up watching in WWE.

As he stood there, though, he realized he knew them. Impossible as it sounded—he’d never seen them before in his life, they weren’t long lost relatives he’d glimpsed in faded photographs or even celebrities of a bygone era—he knew them. The woman’s name was Winifred, and the man... Link wrinkled his brow in thought. Keoni! The man was Keoni.

“Keoni! Stop it!” Winifred giggled and wiggled in the big man’s grasp, fighting back with not much effort as he nuzzled her neck and nibbled her earlobe.

“You protest too much, woman!” Keoni straightened and looked down at her with a grin, ignoring her protests. “Admit it—you enjoy my attentions.”

She blushed and smoothed out her skirt. “I’ll admit no such thing. Now here,”—she handed him a large metal bowl full of apples—“help me peel these for the pie.”

He took the bowl and sat it down on the counter, reached for a knife.

Winifred sighed and picked up another knife. “One day, I want to do this in a home of our own.” She smiled dreamily out the window. “I can imagine it now. A kitchen just like this.”

Keoni raised an eyebrow. “Just like this? Not a little bigger?”

“Perhaps a little bigger.” She grinned. “Big enough for three to work in, I suppose.”

“Three? Are you planning on bringing your mother along?” he teased.

She gasped and shook her head quickly. “Certainly not! I meant...perhaps...perhaps a child.” A new blush climbed her cheeks.

Keoni leaned over and kissed that bright red skin. “I will give you a proud home, and as many children as you wish,” he whispered.

Link’s chest tightened. Keoni would give every bit of his heart and soul; all his blood, sweat, and tears to see her happy, even if it killed him. Link didn’t know how he knew that, but he felt absolutely certain of it. 

Winifred turned her face to press a long, lingering kiss against his lips. She broke the kiss and cleared her throat, turned back to her apples. “I heard they plan to make New Mexico a state.”

Keoni chuckled. “Perhaps we’ll go there some day.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I hear it’s very dry and unpalatable there. My Cousin Elizabeth has been, and she tells me it does quite hideous things to one’s nose.” She lowered her voice and leaned in close. “She tells me her nose bled for twenty straight days, every morning she would awake with her pillow fully red from it.”

Link nodded sagely, aware that to discredit anything Elizabeth Dunshire had said would be Keoni’s ultimate demise. Still, he knew the man dreamed of a warmer climate; somewhere sunny and bright year round. Somewhere like his beloved homeland. Link shook his head. How in the hell did he know that?

“Link!” Link frowned. The fearful shout hadn’t come from either of the two other people; they still hadn’t even looked his way.

“Link!” John shook him roughly.

Blinking rapidly, Link took a deep, shuddering breath. He squinted up to see his friends John and Danny squatting next to him on the floor. On the floor? How the heck had he gotten on the floor? “What...? What are you doing here?”

“We stopped by to see if you needed any help with the construction and found you here passed out.” John frowned and ran his hands through Link’s hair. “Did you hit your head?”

“No. I...” Link wrinkled his brow and tried to remember what had happened. Keoni and Winifred! “Did you see them?”

“See who?” Danny asked.

John’s eyes went cold and his face filled with rage. “Did someone hurt you?”

“Did you get a look at them?”

Link looked back and forth between them. “No...nobody hurt me. But there... This is going to sound crazy and impossible, but I swear to God there were people here. A man and a woman.”

Danny frowned. “Like someone broke in?”

Link shook his head. “No. Like... Like they lived here.”

John raised an eyebrow. “You sure you didn’t hit your head?”

“Positive. I was standing here, thinking about the tiki, and then I walked over to the wall to see if I could find where the draft was coming from, and I...” Link’s eyes went wide. The images had started when he’d touched the wood.

“You what?” John prompted.

“I touched the wood.” Link rolled his eyes at Danny’s snicker. “Not that kind of wood. That wood.” He pointed to the studs. “I was going to try to shake it and see if there was a hole behind it or maybe it was rotted or something, and then I saw them. Keoni and Winifred. They were right here, clear as day. Only...” He glanced around. “It wasn’t here. It didn’t look like this. I don’t even think it was this house.” He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “And I knew them. I’ve never seen them before or heard of them but I... I knew them. As well as I know myself or Haddon or you guys.”

John stood up, held a hand down and pulled Link up as well. He ran his hand over his beard absently. “Huh.”

“Huh?” Link echoed. “That’s it?”

John held his hands out wide. “Well? What do you want me to say?”

Danny shivered. “This is weird, you guys. Like, paranormal weird.”

John scoffed and flapped his hand in the air, but Danny shook his head, his face pale and his arms hugged around himself. “I’m serious. Didn’t you say it gets colder near that spot? And now you’re seeing ghosts? I think the house is haunted. You should call someone.”

“Like who, the Ghost Busters?” John chuckled and gave his husband a playful shove.

“Maybe.” Danny stuck out his chin and slapped John’s hand away. “You can’t be too careful with stuff like this,” he said to Link.

Link frowned. All the strange things—the cold, the visions—had started after they’d removed the tiki. And Keoni did look Hawaiian or Samoan. And tikis were linked to Polynesian people. Maybe there was a method to Danny’s madness. There were tons of paranormal shows on TV where people went around investigating places for hauntings, but how many of them were real, and how many were faked, and how did one go about finding an accredited ghost wrangler. Did such a thing even exist? “But who would I call? Do you have any ideas?”

Danny nodded. “I know exactly who to call.”

Link and Haddon Chapter Two: Complications

Haddon cursed as the claw end of the hammer slipped off the drywall he’d been yanking on, slamming into the side of his head like an anvil. He stood back and glared at the offending wall. He’d hoped to have this done by the time Link got back from work, but that was quickly becoming a fantasy. What should’ve taken him fifteen minutes, tops, had already taken well over an hour. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear the house didn’t want the wall to come down. He shook his head with a grin. Now he was starting to sound like Link.

Setting the hammer aside, so as not to concuss himself, he grabbed hold of a the chunk of drywall and pulled as hard as he could. It came loose easily this time, his momentum driving him back with a whuff against the edge of the sink. He lost his footing and landed on his ass, coughing and sputtering in a cloud of drywall dust. Haddon chuckled. At least the damn thing was down. He rubbed his back and wondered how fast the bruise would form.

A flash of dark color across the room caught his attention, and he waved a hand in the air to dispel the fog of particles, squinted at the hole he’d made. What the hell? Pushing to his feet, he tossed the wall scrap onto a growing pile of debris, and crossed the kitchen to lean into the hole. There, stuffed into a space between two oddly placed studs, was a little brown tiki totem. He wiggled and jiggled it until it came out, took it over to the sink to inspect it under the light. Nothing special - just a plastic brown tiki, like the kind he imagined you might find at tourist traps in Hawaii or the Bahamas. But what had it been doing in the wall?

He turned on the water and started to rinse it off. A layer of dark dirt covered it, clinging like glue, so he reached into the cupboard under the sink and nabbed the Magic Eraser. If that didn’t clean it, nothing would. Rubbing lightly, just in case the paint might come off, he finally got the little tiki clean. He dried it off, and began an inspection of it, looking for any kind of mark or writing or...something. Anything that might tell him why the thing had been where it had been. Nothing.

He was so engrossed that he only vaguely noticed his cell phone ringing. When the shrill notes finally pierced his awareness, Haddon jumped as if he’d been shot. That ring tone? Why was that ring tone going off? He clutched the tiki tight in one hand, dug in his pocket with his other for his cell phone. Sure enough, there on his iPhone’s display was the image of his ex, Mel.

Frowning, he tapped the Answer button with his thumb. “What?”

Mel chuckled. “Well hello to you, too. I’m doing fine, thanks.”

“What do you want?” Haddon glanced around. Though he knew he was home alone, he still didn’t want to get caught on the phone with Mel. Just talking to the man was a betrayal of Link in so many ways, more than even Link knew.

“I’m in town for the weekend, and I thought we could get together. You know, have coffee or something. Catch up.”

Haddon chuckled bitterly. “Are you serious? You want to catch up? Here’s a catch up for you. I’m still not going to leave Link for you. You remember Link, right? The guy you tried to kill?”

“I didn’t try to kill him. It was an accident.”

The annoyance in his ex’s voice came through loud and clear, and Haddon could just imagine him sitting there, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Apparently some things hadn’t changed. “You ran him down in the street. I was there. I haven’t forgotten anything about that night. Unlike you, I don’t have the benefit of drug-induced blackouts.”

Mel sighed. “This... This is what I wanted to meet with you about. I’m clean and sober. Did you know that?”

Haddon tucked the phone between his head and his shoulder and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I’d heard you enrolled in a program a while back.”

“I did. Last February. I’ve been clean - no drugs, no booze - since last April. The last time I used, when I woke up, I promised myself I’d get sober for your birthday, and I did.” Mel paused and cleared his throat. “Part of the program is to make amends for what you’ve done wrong.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar with the Twelve Steps.” Haddon shook his head. All those years of cleaning up after Mel, pleading with the man to get better, making up excuses for him, covering for him... It had all left Haddon more than a little bitter, and while he was truly grateful that Mel had made some real progress, a part of him was still resentful that it hadn’t happened when they’d been together. Still, if they’d stayed a couple, he never would’ve met Link, and Link was worth a hundred years of Mel’s bullshit.

“Anyhow, I wanted to make amends to you. You know, for how I acted when we were together.”

“Okay, go ahead.” Haddon toyed with a few errant pieces of drywall that had stubbornly clung to the wall.

“In person. I want to do it in person. Please, Haddy?”

Haddon grimaced. “Don’t call me that. Look...” He shook his head at his own stupidity. “What about lunch this weekend. Saturday at Dayre?”

“That’s awfully public. I was thinking somewhere more intimate, where I don’t have to shout over the music.”

He didn’t want his name, Mel’s name, and the word intimate in the same sentence. Ever. “The club doesn’t open until eight at night, you know that. Come by around Noon. It’ll be quiet enough.” And I’ll have staff there just in case you try anything.
“I guess if that’s the way it has to be.” Mel sighed and made that lip sucking noise that Haddon had always found so sexy. “I heard you bought a new house.”

“Link and I bought a house, yes.” Who the hell was telling Mel his business?

“Where at?”

“Mel... We can meet at the club Saturday, you can say what you have to say, and that’s it.”

“I was hoping we could be friends.” Mel’s voice broke on the last word. “I know I hurt you--”

“Yeah, you did.” Haddon pressed the ball of his hand into the space just above his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “There’s too much history there. I don’t want to be your friend.”

“You don’t even know me anymore,” Mel protested. “I’m different now.”

Haddon opened his eyes and looked around the kitchen at the construction debris piled off to the side, the new tiny stove covered in garbage bags so it wouldn’t get dirty, the purple coffee pot Link had brought home so proudly yesterday. This was where he belonged, both figuratively and literally, and he couldn’t let Mel hurt this place. “So am I.”

He pulled the phone away from his ear and hit End, and shoved it back into his pocket. “Well, little guy,” he said, holding the tiki in front of his face, “wonders never cease, eh?”

The tiki stared back at him, grinning from ear to ear.

“Where did you come from, huh?” He glanced back at the wall. The spot where the tiki had been stuck seemed to have been made just for it -- there was no other explanation for the studs being so close together. Haddon was no carpenter, but his friend John had taught him enough about construction to know how to build a wall, and those boards were most certainly spaced wrong.

“Knock! Knock!” His sister Alice bustled into the kitchen, carrying several boxes of take out from Tarts. She stuck one under his nose and waved it back and forth. “I brought you lunch.” She stepped back and looked him up and down. “No blood so far! Good for you!”

Alice busied herself with paper plates and napkins, dumping out something that smelled like delicious and decadent had given birth to a baby called ohmygodnomlicious, babbling on about her day and the latest family gossip.

Haddon paid half attention. He stepped closer to the hole in the wall. The air around it had gone from room temperature to down right cold. He shivered as he reached out and stuck his hand inside, his fingers going numb in seconds. He yanked his hand back, eyes wide.

“You okay?”

“Do you feel that?” He pressed his hand to Alice’s arm.

“Yikes!” Alice jumped back. “Holy freeing, Batman. Don’t do that.” She looked down at his hands. “Hey, who’s that?”

“What?” Haddon’s left had tightened reflexively on the tiki, and he remembered at the last second he’d put his phone away. She couldn’t have known he’d spoken to Mel. “Oh, this? I found it in the wall.”

Alice snatched the tiki away. “Oh my God! He’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! He’d look so perfect in my tropical bathroom. Can I have him?” She batted her eyelashes at him and pouted prettily.

“Yeah, yeah sure.” Haddon chuckled. He held his hand near the wall again, but the air had gone back to normal. He shook his head and took the plate Alice handed him, leading her to the dining room.

Link and Haddon Chapter One: Home

Link stopped on the concrete walkway and simply stared at the house in front of him. No, not the house. His house. He tightened his grip around the key; let the metal press painfully into his palm. Maybe it would leave a mark, and he could remember this feeling – this elation, this sense of finally accomplishing something. Something he'd been told he'd never do.


"Hey." Haddon bumped up against him, shoulder to shoulder. "You okay?"


"Yeah." Link nodded and took the box his lover hefted toward him. "What the hell is in this one?"


"What do you think? What's been in the last dozen?" Haddon shrugged and laughed as he turned and headed back to the moving truck.


"Books." Link sighed and let the tug of a grin curve his lips. "My books," he whispered, "that I'm taking up my front walk, and putting on my bookshelf, in my house." He toed open the door and stood on the threshold, frowning at the sea of boxes in the tiny living room. "My books, that I'm putting on my living room floor."


As much as he knew they had to get back to work – they only had the truck for another hour – he couldn't resist the urge to walk through the place again, even though he knew he'd be walking through it for years to come. He strolled into the dining room… okay, he stepped into the dining room. The place wasn't that big, after all – only a little over nine hundred square feet. Most of his friends had said he and Haddon were nuts to buy such a small place, but how much room did two guys in love really need?


He surveyed the dining room. They'd found an old retro Formica table and four powder blue chairs at a thrift store the week before and brought them over while they'd worked to make the hundred year old house livable. The table had since become command central, littered with receipts, notes, screwdriver bits, pens, soda bottles, and more rolls of packing tape than any two people should legally own. He tapped his foot on the dark hardwood floor – what a surprise it had been to find that lurking under inch thick shag carpeting.


He passed through the door into the postage stamp of a kitchen. First order of business would be to head off to the local appliance store and see about a smaller stove and fridge. Ones that didn't take up half the space and dwarf the room. He ran his hand over the cabinets absently. His friends Danny and John were really creative when it came to decorating – they'd have to have them over to take a look at the place and see what they could collectively come up with together. Maybe a Bitchin’ Kitchen theme. He grinned as he imagined the place bedazzled in sparkly skulls and disembodied baby doll heads.


The sounds of Haddon grunting under the effort of more boxes floated into him, but Link ignored it. Haddon loved this kind of physical work, the man was right in his element, and Link could afford these few minutes to himself. He turned left, took two steps, and turned right, leaned in the doorway of the bathroom. The blue bathroom. Blue tub, blue sink, blue toilet. He shook his head. And those gold stars on the wallpaper? Good grief. Haddon had fallen in love with the blue, but those stars simply had to go.


Link turned and walked another couple steps and peered into the bedroom. And what a massive bedroom. The largest room in the house, neither of them had ever had so much space. They'd have the bed delivered this week, put it right there in the middle of the room, where they could lay together and look out the window at the backyard. They'd get bird feeders and a birdbath, maybe leave some binoculars on the bedside table, and maybe a digital camera. Shit! He slapped his palm on his thigh. He'd forgotten to ask Danny which one he should get. He'd have to make a note of that.


He turned around and headed down the hall, intended to go grab a piece of paper off the dining room table – God, he loved saying dining room – and instead found himself stopped in his tracks, breathless and dumbfounded. Haddon stood at the other end of the hall, naked from the waist up, wiping the sweat dripping off his forehead with his balled up shirt. Link moved without thought, grabbed his lover's wrist and pulled Haddon behind him.


"Damn," Haddon muttered. He kicked the door closed and followed without another word.


Link dragged them both to the bedroom.


Haddon tugged on his hand. "You wanna wait until we have a bed?" He trailed his fingers up and down Link's right arm. "You know, somewhere soft?"


Link bit his lower lip. A bed and soft sounded good. But something primal, a need to claim this place, his place and his man, as his own thrummed through him. If he didn't, someone might come and take this all away from him. Show up at his door tomorrow morning and say there'd been some mix up, and he had to leave. Go back to that filthy, run-down apartment with the uncleanable stains of God only knew what on the bathroom wall, and the sometimes running, sometimes not running hot water, and the broken windows that let in the cold and the rain and the bugs, and the disgusting, sticky carpet in the kitchen, and the roaches they could never seem to get rid of. He squeezed his eyes shut and sagged back against the wall.


"Hey." Haddon moved close, rubbed hips against Link's and pulled Link into a tight embrace.


Link held on for dear life, afraid the tide of emotions churning inside him would crash over him and drag him under. He fought not to let the tears slip, fought the choking sob lodged in his throat.


Haddon moved a hand up to caress Link's back. "Nobody's gonna take this away from us, baby. I promise you that. This is ours. We scraped and pinched and went without for so long, and this is our reward." He pulled back and captured Link's face in his hands. "You hear me?"


Link nodded. He sighed as Haddon captured his lips in a gentle kiss, Haddon's mouth moving across his, tongue searching out all those warm, wet spaces, grinding against him, pressing him back against the wall, Haddon's fingers gripping the back of his head so tight.


Haddon broke the kiss and took Link's hand. "Help me finish getting this stuff inside, then we'll take the truck back and get dinner."


"Here," Link blurted. "I want to eat dinner here. Not out somewhere. Just…here. We can pick up whatever you want, but lets bring it back. Let’s eat in our house."


Haddon grinned. "There's no place else I'd rather be." He quirked an eyebrow and his grin widened impossibly. “Maybe on the way back from the truck place, we can stop at that camping store on the highway.”


Link frowned. “For what?” He knew which box they’d packed the coffee pot in, and if they were ordering out tonight they wouldn’t need any pans.


Haddon took his hand an pressed a kiss to his ear. “An inflatable bed.”