Fic: Names and Truths in Photographs; Tim Drake/Michael Holt; NC-17; Part 1/12
Title: Names and Truths in Photographs
Author: Aravis Tarkheena
Part: 1/12
Pairing: Tim Drake/Michael Holt
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Violence. Grief. Angst. Smut. Also, I feel compelled to mention, this story also discusses Michael's suicide attempt. It's not a major plot point, but it's there.
Disclaimer: Not mine, everyone's legal.
Word Count: 31,000ish
Author's Notes: Written for scifibigbang. Thanks for darkdanc3r for the beta and to lyanth for the fan art. You guys are awesome. <3
Summary: Elijah Steinmen, a friend of Michael Holt's, has run into some trouble. While trying to help Eli out of a bind, Michael runs into a bit of trouble himself. Trouble by the name of The Dark Hunter. AU, future fic. Slash.
Index Post
Chapter One
The lab was dark. Light from the windows was minimal as clouds drifted across the tiny slice of moon that was just barely visible over the tops of the skyscrapers lining the streets in this section of the city. Work benches, file cabinets, instruments and machinery were nothing more than greyish shadows littering the long expanse of the room.
Tim picked his way carefully among them, not making a single sound as he kept himself low and shielded by shadow. His cloven tabi boots were quiet on the smooth linoleum. He moved in the way Shiva taught him, shifting only his feet and keeping his body steady and straight. His clothes did not rustle and his head did not bob as he slipped behind each counter top and desk.
Tim quickly made his way to the only other light source, aside from the dim moonlight. The little flashing sparks at the far corner of the room became clearer the closer Tim crept forward.
Tim could hear the low, dull buzz of some sort of grinder as it worked on a lock. He got within three yards of the sparks before he came to a stop behind a large counter space. He dropped to his belly on the floor and then the lifted himself up on only toes and finger tips and used them to shift himself forward inch by inch. He moved until only the top of his head and his eyes were visible beyond the counter top so he would not be within anyone's line of sight if they suddenly looked up.
When someone was startled, they never looked down for a source of danger.
Another trick Shiva had taught him.
Tim watched, barely breathing, as the three men huddled around what looked like a large case of lockers worked their power tools on the lock. The sparks were getting brighter and larger and the hum of the grinder was getting louder with each proceeding second. The tension across the backs of the men gathered together indicated to Tim that they were about to break through.
Tim was left with only a few seconds to decide on a course of action. Tim wasn't entirely sure what this lab was used for. When the three men had broken in, they had triggered the silent alarm in the building for about a second. A short enough duration of time that the cops wouldn't have caught it, but Tim's instruments were much more sensitive than the police's.
He had been nearby when he picked up the signal and headed over. It had taken him less than three minutes to get here and break in. He'd had very little time to look up background on the building in question on transit.
It was listed as a Research and Development Lab on the file he pulled up on the way over. Chances were good that its uses and equipment changed and rotated with each switch in project. Anything could be in that locker from blood samples, to a weapon or a virus.
Unfortunately, Tim's hands were tied at the moment. He needed to find out what, exactly, these men were after. If he found that out, figuring out who hired them would be far simpler. Interrogation was out of the question because he was almost certain that they didn't know who hired them. They also, likely, didn't much care so long as their accounts were padded.
For them, life was much simpler if they didn't know.
Additionally, Tim wasn't terribly eager to jump into a fray with these men while one of them had a power tool.
So he waited.
After a few spark filled moments, there was a low gasp of triumph from one of the men and the power tool switched off. It was set down on the floor with a muted clatter. Tim made a note of it's location. He would need to remember when he jumped into things.
Tim quietly used one hand to pull his gas mask from his pocket. He pulled it on over his face and secured it tightly. His mask would protect his eyes but his face was mostly exposed. None of the men was wearing protective clothing so Tim guessed that whatever they were after wouldn't burn his skin, but he had learned the hard way to be careful in laboratories.
One of the men, the one on Tim's far left, stood to a half crouch and flicked the lock off the cabinet door. He pushed it open with a low creak and the three of them sat there on the floor for a few long moments, examining the contents of the locker.
"Which one is it?" the man on the right, clearly a heavy smoker, hissed at his companions.
"That one," said the one in the middle, hesitantly pointing with one gloved index finger, "I think."
"Grab it," said the one on the left and nodded to the smoker on the right. He stood and reached out a hand to grab a canister on a high shelf.
Tim moved in a flash. He sat up on his knees and pulled a small, sharp shuriken from one of his pouches. He flung it at the man who was standing, putting all the strength and body weight behind it that he could.
Normally, when fighting a group of three or more, Tim would try to take out the leader first. That would be the man on the left. He was the only one with enough confidence to pull this off. The smoker, while he wasn't the leader, did have the canister and the power grinder right next to him. Right now he was the biggest threat.
Tim's shuriken hit home. It buried itself into the man's hand and he shrieked in pain, clutching the appendage. He tried to pick the sharp piece of metal from his hand but he just managed to cut his other fingers as he grasped at it.
The other two men jumped up in surprise and stared at their partner in shock. All three of them were looking at the man's horribly bleeding hand. Tim took advantage of the confusion to jump them.
If he had been anywhere but a lab that was possibly filled with unidentifiable and potentially explosive chemicals, he would have thrown a gas ball or a flash bomb to incapacitate them. Instead, Tim grabbed the nearest one by the head and tackled him to the floor. He smashed the man's face into the hard linoleum before striking him once in the back of the head to thoroughly stun him.
Tim stayed on the ground, and kicked his legs out at the last, uninjured man, the leader of the group. He caught him by the knees and he came crashing down onto the floor next to Tim. Tim gave him a quick jab to the front of the throat with his fingers extended. Tim wasn't about to risk him giving orders to anyone, just now. The leader choked and gagged and grasped his throat. Tim grabbed a taser from his belt and hit the man with it. He shook twice, his eyes widening, before he went very still.
Tim looked up from the body just in time to see the man he'd hit with the shuriken flee across the lab. Tim leapt up from the floor and took off after him. He pulled his bo from it's harness at the back of his belt as he ran and quickly closed in.
The man made it to a set of doors on the far right of the large room. He hit them at a run and just bounced off of them as their locks held them firmly closed. He looked up at Tim with wide eyes and scrambled to his feet as Tim cornered him. He reached out, grabbing blindly for a weapon of some sort to use against Tim.
Before Tim could grab another shuriken, the man pulled a canister of something from a nearby work station. He pulled the cap off the bottle and threw it at Tim. Tim stepped to the side, pulling his cape up over his face. He smelled something foul and acrid and when he pulled his cape back down he saw it slowly melting.
Tim unhooked the clasps that held his cape to his suit and tossed the still smoking material to the floor. He looked up at the still cornered man with a glare.
"That was a mistake," he growled at the man and hit the button to extend his staff to its full length. "I'll give you a choice. We can do this easy, and all you'll need are a few stitches. Or we can do this hard and you'll be looking more like your friends over there." Tim jerked his head back, nodding towards the other two, unconscious men.
The cornered man thought about that for a second but his eyes widened when he saw Tim's grip tighten on his bo. He swallowed hard and pursed his lips.
"Easy," he rasped out.
Tim reached slowly into one of his pockets, keeping his eyes fixed on the man. He pulled out a few zip strips and tossed them over to him.
"Put those on," Tim instructed.
The man did, warily and Tim walked him back over to his compatriots. Tim tied the other two men up. Then he pulled off his gas mask and called in the police. The leader was just waking up from his taserering when Tim heard sirens in the distance.
"They'll be here soon," Tim said and looked down at the still conscious man. "I'm leaving. If you run, I'll find you."
The man was looking up at Tim with wide eyes. As Tim watched a dread certainty entered those eyes and he swallowed hard. "D-d-dark H-h-h-hunter?" the man rasped in a terrified whisper, more a statement than a question.
It was clearly not a suspicion the man wanted confirmed so Tim didn't even bother to answer, he just glared down at the man. "I'll find you," he repeated before he took off for the nearest exit.
Tim made his way out of the building and down the block to where he had parked his Ducati. He disengaged the security on his communicator and his bike and then straddled the Ducati. He slumped down on the seat, leaning forward and resting his head against the handle bars. His heart was still pounding slightly from the fight but he was mostly coming down off the adrenaline. He probably shouldn't drive until he was a touch less shaky.
Tim sighed heavily and tried to concentrate on slowing his heart beat. While he hadn't exerted himself much in this fight, the acid had scared him. If his reflexes had been a bit off tonight, he might be blind right now. It was no wonder his heart was pounding half out of his chest.
Tim suspected that he would never grow accustomed to near-death or maulings. He would always be afraid when he went out on the streets. Shiva had told him once that was a good thing. She said it was when he stopped being afraid that he needed to start worrying. It was a piece of advice Tim had never forgotten.
Tim was distracted from that sobering thought by the chirp of his communicator. Tim pulled it from one of his pouches and looked down at it past his elbow and handlebars. The screen was brightly lit and the name 'Squire' flashed across it every few seconds.
He loved his communicator. He really did. Hiro had made it for him when he spent a week trying to track Tim down for a consult on a job. Tim had been out in the middle of the desert at the time and even his Sat Phone hadn't had reception. Hiro had been furious at Tim for not having the equipment to stay in touch at all times.
Tim had told him that nothing in the world existed that met his particular needs. After Hiro spent a week interrogating Tim about what, exactly, those needs were, he had delivered this. Tim's new communicator.
It was like the cross between a cell phone and a computer. It stored and searched for information across dozens of different data bases. Tim was tapped into Oracle's computers, the JSA's, the JLA's, the Titans, the Outsiders and every law enforcement organization known to man. It was voice activated, super fast, water proof, sand proof, mud proof and worked under ground up to a mile.
The only problem was that it didn't turn off. Tim could silence it when he was under cover. He could put it to vibrate when he was out with people. He could even turn the screen off when he needed things to be all dark. But the communicator itself was always receiving and transmitting information. Tim wasn't sure what Hiro used as a power source, but he was almost certain, what ever it was, it was the answer to the global energy crisis.
While Tim didn't mind Hiro, and, very probably, Babs, always being able to track him via satellite, sometimes Tim wished he could just turn the communicator off. His life was a lot less stressful three months ago when all he needed to do to be alone was press a button.
Tim sighed and keyed in the code to answer the call.
"Hey Squire," he said tiredly into the receiver.
"Well hello, Dark Hunter," Beryl replied making her voice go deep and sort of sultry on as an ironic emphasis on his new code name.
"Don't call me that," Tim snapped and he heard her laugh on the other end of the line.
"Did you need something?" Tim asked and sat up straight on his bike. He arched his back and felt a few vertebrae pop back into place.
"The Boss and I need a favor. How soon can you be in London?" she asked him seriously.
"Mmmm, not sure. I'll have to check," he said, silently wondering if he had enough money in his bank account for both a ticket to London and a new cape. He was pretty sure he didn't.
Tim had prided himself in being self sufficient these past two years. His on going feud with Dick and his independence made him reluctant to use any of Bruce's money. It was rough sometimes, but he always managed. He had a few sources of income but if he didn't focus on them for any period of time the coffers got low.
They were currently very low, indeed.
"What's this about, anyway?" he asked.
"Mmm, a friend of the family is having a spot of trouble. We need help finding someone to alleviate that trouble. From what I hear, you're very good at finding people," Beryl teased him.
"It's urgent?" he asked.
"You have something more important than us? When we took you in and loved you like one of our own!" Beryl exclaimed with faux indignation.
Tim smiled. "No, you're right. I've got nothing more important."
"Good, your flight leaves at seven this morning," she informed him, mischievously.
Tim looked down at the clock on his Duc. "That's in six hours," he said stupidly.
"I know. Can you make it?" she asked with laughter in her voice. "Knight's paying and there's room for you and your beloved motorbike."
Tim sighed. It would take care of his money problem if he caught the flight Beryl had booked for him. He didn't really have a choice. Besides, he could make more extra cash in London than he could here at this point.
"I'll be there. Send the information to my phone," he instructed and she was laughing at him while he hung up.
Chapter Two
Author: Aravis Tarkheena
Part: 1/12
Pairing: Tim Drake/Michael Holt
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Violence. Grief. Angst. Smut. Also, I feel compelled to mention, this story also discusses Michael's suicide attempt. It's not a major plot point, but it's there.
Disclaimer: Not mine, everyone's legal.
Word Count: 31,000ish
Author's Notes: Written for scifibigbang. Thanks for darkdanc3r for the beta and to lyanth for the fan art. You guys are awesome. <3
Summary: Elijah Steinmen, a friend of Michael Holt's, has run into some trouble. While trying to help Eli out of a bind, Michael runs into a bit of trouble himself. Trouble by the name of The Dark Hunter. AU, future fic. Slash.
Index Post
Chapter One
The lab was dark. Light from the windows was minimal as clouds drifted across the tiny slice of moon that was just barely visible over the tops of the skyscrapers lining the streets in this section of the city. Work benches, file cabinets, instruments and machinery were nothing more than greyish shadows littering the long expanse of the room.
Tim picked his way carefully among them, not making a single sound as he kept himself low and shielded by shadow. His cloven tabi boots were quiet on the smooth linoleum. He moved in the way Shiva taught him, shifting only his feet and keeping his body steady and straight. His clothes did not rustle and his head did not bob as he slipped behind each counter top and desk.
Tim quickly made his way to the only other light source, aside from the dim moonlight. The little flashing sparks at the far corner of the room became clearer the closer Tim crept forward.
Tim could hear the low, dull buzz of some sort of grinder as it worked on a lock. He got within three yards of the sparks before he came to a stop behind a large counter space. He dropped to his belly on the floor and then the lifted himself up on only toes and finger tips and used them to shift himself forward inch by inch. He moved until only the top of his head and his eyes were visible beyond the counter top so he would not be within anyone's line of sight if they suddenly looked up.
When someone was startled, they never looked down for a source of danger.
Another trick Shiva had taught him.
Tim watched, barely breathing, as the three men huddled around what looked like a large case of lockers worked their power tools on the lock. The sparks were getting brighter and larger and the hum of the grinder was getting louder with each proceeding second. The tension across the backs of the men gathered together indicated to Tim that they were about to break through.
Tim was left with only a few seconds to decide on a course of action. Tim wasn't entirely sure what this lab was used for. When the three men had broken in, they had triggered the silent alarm in the building for about a second. A short enough duration of time that the cops wouldn't have caught it, but Tim's instruments were much more sensitive than the police's.
He had been nearby when he picked up the signal and headed over. It had taken him less than three minutes to get here and break in. He'd had very little time to look up background on the building in question on transit.
It was listed as a Research and Development Lab on the file he pulled up on the way over. Chances were good that its uses and equipment changed and rotated with each switch in project. Anything could be in that locker from blood samples, to a weapon or a virus.
Unfortunately, Tim's hands were tied at the moment. He needed to find out what, exactly, these men were after. If he found that out, figuring out who hired them would be far simpler. Interrogation was out of the question because he was almost certain that they didn't know who hired them. They also, likely, didn't much care so long as their accounts were padded.
For them, life was much simpler if they didn't know.
Additionally, Tim wasn't terribly eager to jump into a fray with these men while one of them had a power tool.
So he waited.
After a few spark filled moments, there was a low gasp of triumph from one of the men and the power tool switched off. It was set down on the floor with a muted clatter. Tim made a note of it's location. He would need to remember when he jumped into things.
Tim quietly used one hand to pull his gas mask from his pocket. He pulled it on over his face and secured it tightly. His mask would protect his eyes but his face was mostly exposed. None of the men was wearing protective clothing so Tim guessed that whatever they were after wouldn't burn his skin, but he had learned the hard way to be careful in laboratories.
One of the men, the one on Tim's far left, stood to a half crouch and flicked the lock off the cabinet door. He pushed it open with a low creak and the three of them sat there on the floor for a few long moments, examining the contents of the locker.
"Which one is it?" the man on the right, clearly a heavy smoker, hissed at his companions.
"That one," said the one in the middle, hesitantly pointing with one gloved index finger, "I think."
"Grab it," said the one on the left and nodded to the smoker on the right. He stood and reached out a hand to grab a canister on a high shelf.
Tim moved in a flash. He sat up on his knees and pulled a small, sharp shuriken from one of his pouches. He flung it at the man who was standing, putting all the strength and body weight behind it that he could.
Normally, when fighting a group of three or more, Tim would try to take out the leader first. That would be the man on the left. He was the only one with enough confidence to pull this off. The smoker, while he wasn't the leader, did have the canister and the power grinder right next to him. Right now he was the biggest threat.
Tim's shuriken hit home. It buried itself into the man's hand and he shrieked in pain, clutching the appendage. He tried to pick the sharp piece of metal from his hand but he just managed to cut his other fingers as he grasped at it.
The other two men jumped up in surprise and stared at their partner in shock. All three of them were looking at the man's horribly bleeding hand. Tim took advantage of the confusion to jump them.
If he had been anywhere but a lab that was possibly filled with unidentifiable and potentially explosive chemicals, he would have thrown a gas ball or a flash bomb to incapacitate them. Instead, Tim grabbed the nearest one by the head and tackled him to the floor. He smashed the man's face into the hard linoleum before striking him once in the back of the head to thoroughly stun him.
Tim stayed on the ground, and kicked his legs out at the last, uninjured man, the leader of the group. He caught him by the knees and he came crashing down onto the floor next to Tim. Tim gave him a quick jab to the front of the throat with his fingers extended. Tim wasn't about to risk him giving orders to anyone, just now. The leader choked and gagged and grasped his throat. Tim grabbed a taser from his belt and hit the man with it. He shook twice, his eyes widening, before he went very still.
Tim looked up from the body just in time to see the man he'd hit with the shuriken flee across the lab. Tim leapt up from the floor and took off after him. He pulled his bo from it's harness at the back of his belt as he ran and quickly closed in.
The man made it to a set of doors on the far right of the large room. He hit them at a run and just bounced off of them as their locks held them firmly closed. He looked up at Tim with wide eyes and scrambled to his feet as Tim cornered him. He reached out, grabbing blindly for a weapon of some sort to use against Tim.
Before Tim could grab another shuriken, the man pulled a canister of something from a nearby work station. He pulled the cap off the bottle and threw it at Tim. Tim stepped to the side, pulling his cape up over his face. He smelled something foul and acrid and when he pulled his cape back down he saw it slowly melting.
Tim unhooked the clasps that held his cape to his suit and tossed the still smoking material to the floor. He looked up at the still cornered man with a glare.
"That was a mistake," he growled at the man and hit the button to extend his staff to its full length. "I'll give you a choice. We can do this easy, and all you'll need are a few stitches. Or we can do this hard and you'll be looking more like your friends over there." Tim jerked his head back, nodding towards the other two, unconscious men.
The cornered man thought about that for a second but his eyes widened when he saw Tim's grip tighten on his bo. He swallowed hard and pursed his lips.
"Easy," he rasped out.
Tim reached slowly into one of his pockets, keeping his eyes fixed on the man. He pulled out a few zip strips and tossed them over to him.
"Put those on," Tim instructed.
The man did, warily and Tim walked him back over to his compatriots. Tim tied the other two men up. Then he pulled off his gas mask and called in the police. The leader was just waking up from his taserering when Tim heard sirens in the distance.
"They'll be here soon," Tim said and looked down at the still conscious man. "I'm leaving. If you run, I'll find you."
The man was looking up at Tim with wide eyes. As Tim watched a dread certainty entered those eyes and he swallowed hard. "D-d-dark H-h-h-hunter?" the man rasped in a terrified whisper, more a statement than a question.
It was clearly not a suspicion the man wanted confirmed so Tim didn't even bother to answer, he just glared down at the man. "I'll find you," he repeated before he took off for the nearest exit.
Tim made his way out of the building and down the block to where he had parked his Ducati. He disengaged the security on his communicator and his bike and then straddled the Ducati. He slumped down on the seat, leaning forward and resting his head against the handle bars. His heart was still pounding slightly from the fight but he was mostly coming down off the adrenaline. He probably shouldn't drive until he was a touch less shaky.
Tim sighed heavily and tried to concentrate on slowing his heart beat. While he hadn't exerted himself much in this fight, the acid had scared him. If his reflexes had been a bit off tonight, he might be blind right now. It was no wonder his heart was pounding half out of his chest.
Tim suspected that he would never grow accustomed to near-death or maulings. He would always be afraid when he went out on the streets. Shiva had told him once that was a good thing. She said it was when he stopped being afraid that he needed to start worrying. It was a piece of advice Tim had never forgotten.
Tim was distracted from that sobering thought by the chirp of his communicator. Tim pulled it from one of his pouches and looked down at it past his elbow and handlebars. The screen was brightly lit and the name 'Squire' flashed across it every few seconds.
He loved his communicator. He really did. Hiro had made it for him when he spent a week trying to track Tim down for a consult on a job. Tim had been out in the middle of the desert at the time and even his Sat Phone hadn't had reception. Hiro had been furious at Tim for not having the equipment to stay in touch at all times.
Tim had told him that nothing in the world existed that met his particular needs. After Hiro spent a week interrogating Tim about what, exactly, those needs were, he had delivered this. Tim's new communicator.
It was like the cross between a cell phone and a computer. It stored and searched for information across dozens of different data bases. Tim was tapped into Oracle's computers, the JSA's, the JLA's, the Titans, the Outsiders and every law enforcement organization known to man. It was voice activated, super fast, water proof, sand proof, mud proof and worked under ground up to a mile.
The only problem was that it didn't turn off. Tim could silence it when he was under cover. He could put it to vibrate when he was out with people. He could even turn the screen off when he needed things to be all dark. But the communicator itself was always receiving and transmitting information. Tim wasn't sure what Hiro used as a power source, but he was almost certain, what ever it was, it was the answer to the global energy crisis.
While Tim didn't mind Hiro, and, very probably, Babs, always being able to track him via satellite, sometimes Tim wished he could just turn the communicator off. His life was a lot less stressful three months ago when all he needed to do to be alone was press a button.
Tim sighed and keyed in the code to answer the call.
"Hey Squire," he said tiredly into the receiver.
"Well hello, Dark Hunter," Beryl replied making her voice go deep and sort of sultry on as an ironic emphasis on his new code name.
"Don't call me that," Tim snapped and he heard her laugh on the other end of the line.
"Did you need something?" Tim asked and sat up straight on his bike. He arched his back and felt a few vertebrae pop back into place.
"The Boss and I need a favor. How soon can you be in London?" she asked him seriously.
"Mmmm, not sure. I'll have to check," he said, silently wondering if he had enough money in his bank account for both a ticket to London and a new cape. He was pretty sure he didn't.
Tim had prided himself in being self sufficient these past two years. His on going feud with Dick and his independence made him reluctant to use any of Bruce's money. It was rough sometimes, but he always managed. He had a few sources of income but if he didn't focus on them for any period of time the coffers got low.
They were currently very low, indeed.
"What's this about, anyway?" he asked.
"Mmm, a friend of the family is having a spot of trouble. We need help finding someone to alleviate that trouble. From what I hear, you're very good at finding people," Beryl teased him.
"It's urgent?" he asked.
"You have something more important than us? When we took you in and loved you like one of our own!" Beryl exclaimed with faux indignation.
Tim smiled. "No, you're right. I've got nothing more important."
"Good, your flight leaves at seven this morning," she informed him, mischievously.
Tim looked down at the clock on his Duc. "That's in six hours," he said stupidly.
"I know. Can you make it?" she asked with laughter in her voice. "Knight's paying and there's room for you and your beloved motorbike."
Tim sighed. It would take care of his money problem if he caught the flight Beryl had booked for him. He didn't really have a choice. Besides, he could make more extra cash in London than he could here at this point.
"I'll be there. Send the information to my phone," he instructed and she was laughing at him while he hung up.
Chapter Two