Fic: Names and Truths in Photographs; Tim Drake/Michael Holt; NC-17; Part 4/12
Title: Names and Truths in Photographs
Author: Aravis Tarkheena
Part: 4/12
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 Four
When Calet called Michael, almost a week after his dinner party, Michael was sitting at his desk in his home office skimming some paper work. Michael had spent nearly the entire morning trying, and ultimately failing, to make himself focus on his work. For some reason he couldn't concentrate.
Michael Holt had never had any sort of problems concentrating. He was always focused and intent on his goals. He wasn't accustomed to not being able to throw the full weight of his intellect into his self assigned tasks.
Lately, however, Michael found his accustomed diligence deserting him. He would suddenly shake himself abruptly only to realize he had been sitting there for the past ten minutes completely ignoring the tasks at hand. His mind would wander to places that it hadn't gone in years. It was slightly unnerving.
Five days ago he had stopped a his local coffee shop for some much needed caffeine. As he was standing in line his gaze wandered to the display case that held various and assorted baked goods. On the left was a large sugar cookie with brightly colored sprinkles scattered across the stop. Michael had found himself thinking how it looked like something his brother Jeffery would have enjoyed.
The shock of that off hand thought had stunned Michael for a long moment. It had been years since he had thought about Jeffery. In the time immediately after Jeffery had died Michael thought about him almost constantly. He missed him and grieved for him but as the years passed, thoughts of Jeffery had faded into the background. It had been quite a long time since he even thought of Jeffery's name, let alone the types of things that Jeffery liked.
It had brought that familiar empty ache in the center of Michael's chest, the physical embodiment of grief Michael had found, to the surface again.
It was mildly disconcerting.
Michael had almost succeeded in putting the incident out of his mind when, two days later, he decided to have his lunch in a park near his office building. As he was sitting on a park bench, unwrapping his sandwich, a woman walked by with a bouquet of sunflowers. She was gazing at the bright yellow flowers with rapture and talking animatedly on her cell phone as she passed Michael.
Michael found himself smiling and remembering the several occasions that he had brought a similar bouquet home for Paula over the years that they had been married. Michael vividly remembered the bright smile on her face when he handed her the flowers. He remembered exactly which vase she would use to arrange them. He remembered catching her standing in the doorway of their kitchen and just looking at the flowers, sitting in their vase in the middle of their small, second hand dining table.
As the young woman walked away with her sunflowers in hand, Michael felt the low hum of happy memories fade into that empty ache again. He hadn't eaten his sandwich, merely re-wrapped it and walked briskly back to the office. Michael had thrown himself into his work as best he could, in an effort to distract himself.
Unfortunately, it was that afternoon that Michael's little bouts of distractions had begun. He had been so upset and unnerved at the sudden flood of memories of his wife and brother that Michael began to slip into bouts of pointless introspection.
Over the next few days Michael would find himself wondering if Jeffery would have ever grown out of his taste for exceptionally sweet things every time he passed a newsstand with candy prominently displayed in front of the window. As he walked by the florist shop he wondered if Paula's favorite flower would have changed over the years or if her fondness of sunflowers would have been perpetual.
Most heart-rending of all, each time he passed a small child he wondered what, exactly, his child Terry would have looked like if he had ever lived long enough to be born. Michael wondered, for the first time, if Terry would have had a developmental disability like Jeffrey, or if he would have been a prodigy like Michael. He wondered if Terry would have had Paula's eyes or his own. He wondered what sorts of things Terry would have enjoyed. Would he have wanted to be an architect, a fireman or a doctor?
How would he feel about his father being Mr. Terrific?
How would Paula?
Michael wouldn't have even considered putting on the mask and jacket if he hadn't lost his wife and child. Would he have found his family and his job as fulfilling as he found his work with the Justice Society of America?
They were things Michael hadn't even let himself consider before and he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why he was thinking about them now. The thoughts came to him with the inevitability of a setting sun. Night or day the specters of his lost family seemed to be intent on haunting him and Michael couldn't figure out how to stop it.
Even as his eyes flew over the page in his hands, Michael could feel his mind beginning to wander. The ring of the telephone was a much appreciated distraction and he snatched it up, flipping his phone open and pressing it to his ear without even checking the caller ID read out.
"Hello!" he said into the mouthpiece, attempting to keep his voice even and neutral didn't even occur to him.
There was a pause on the other end of the line before a voice broke though the silence. "Holt?" Calet responded hesitantly. He had clearly noticed something off about Michael's tone.
Michael cleared his throat and tried for something a bit more cheerful. "Auggie! How are you? We didn't eat you out of house and home last week, did we?" he asked in a booming voice.
Augustus Calet laughed on the other end of the line. "We have tap water and stale crackers to live on, I think," he teased and Michael laughed politely.
"What's new in your neck of the woods?" Michael asked when their laughter died down. "Need a consult?"
"Ha!" Calet repiled, "I couldn't afford you."
Calet could, actually, afford Michael's consulting rates. Probably more easily than Elijah Steinmen could and Michael told him so. Affably, of course.
There was a slight hesitation on the other end of the line.
"Speaking of Steinmen, have you heard from him recently?" Calet asked in cautious tone of voice that put Michael on his guard.
Now what?
"He cut me a check a few days ago for the work I did for him. I haven't heard anything from him since. Why do you ask?"
"Apparently one of his clerks caught some serious embezzlement going on," Calet said warily. "The clerk mentioned it to one of Steinmen's bigger stock holders and now the police are involved."
Michael straightened in his chair and threw the sheaf of papers he had been holding down on his desk.
"Do they know who did it?" he asked, pursing his lips with concern.
"No one has a clue," Calet said and Michael could almost hear the man shrug on the other end of the line.
"Shit," Michael said succinctly.
"Agreed," Calet replied and then hesitated for another minute.
"What is it?" Michael asked, picking up the meaning behind Calet's silence. He had more to say.
"It's just... Weren't you just working security for him?" Calet asked before he continued hastily. "I just don't want your reputation brought down because of this mess. I was just worried."
Michael was sure that most of Calet's professed 'concern' stemmed from the fact that he used one of Michael's security systems on his buildings. He clearly didn't want to use Michael's programs if they had failed for someone else, for whatever reason.
"No, I didn't work with his books or computers. I just did his building and lab security protocols," Michael replied distractedly.
"Oh good," Calet replied with relief. "I was worried you were losing your touch."
"Never," Michael assured him. "Listen Auggie, I'm going to let you go. I want to give Elijah a call and see if he needs any help."
"Sure, sure," Calet agreed easily. "My wife wants you to know that she gave your number to the agent of that artist you liked, by the way."
Michael nodded to himself and answered distractedly. "Tell her I said thanks and that she throws a hell of a party."
"Will do," Calet assured him and they hung up.
Michael sat there staring at the phone for a few long moments before he flicked it open again and punched in Elijah Steinmen's number. It rang three times before the line clicked open and Steinmen sounded breathless.
"Hey Michael, I don't mean to be rude but I've got a lot going on right now and--" Elijah was speaking all in a rush but Michael cut him off.
"I heard about it. Did you need any help?" he asked with concern.
Elijah hesitated. "At this point, I don't know if I can afford your fee..."
"Don't worry about it. It's a favor between friends, that's all," Michael assured him and Elijah sighed with relief.
"I would love your input, Michael. I have no idea how this happened. I have good security and I have a pile of people checking each others' work. No one saw this coming," Elijah's voice sounded strained and slightly panicked the more he talked about the situation.
"Don't worry. I'll check it over and see where the inconsistencies are. Don't worry Eli, we'll find the guy," Michael assured him.
"Thanks. I'll have a courier send you the documents and files," Steinmen said.
They chatted for a few minutes more about what lawyers Steinmen had hired and how the police were treating everyone. What lay unspoken between the two of them was Steinmen's standing on the bid for the government contract. There was no doubt, now that his systems had been compromised, that the government wouldn't accept his bid.
Michael wasn't sure what, exactly, the contract was for. Those things were often kept very secret. Steinmen was probably under contract to keep whatever information he got before the bidding started a secret.
The problem was that Steinmen had put a lot of cash into beefing up his security systems. He had paid Michael a large sum to keep his buildings secure and, Michael was almost sure, he had paid another company or organization to do over his electronic security. Steinmen was hoping to get the money for the government contract to cover the costs of the security and then some.
Now, even after Steinmen had paid all that money to the security men, he was out all the money that had been embezzled.
A double hit.
Michael wasn't entirely sure how much cash Steinman was out, but it was very probably a substantial sum or the stock holders wouldn't have brought the police into things so quickly.
"How are you holding up?" Michael eventually asked as their conversation started to wind down.
"I'm alright, I suppose. It could have been worse. I could have ended up like Calvin Coskin and lost a couple million dollars worth of prototypes," Steinmen said tiredly.
"Coskin lost prototypes?" Michael asked with some surprise. He didn't know Coskin personally and only had a passing idea of what it was Co-tech specialized in. He knew they did a lot of hush-hush work for the government. No one knew what they did exactly, but there were whispers of Star Wars type technology that would usher in the new age of war fare.
For Co-tech to lose any prototypes was both devastating to the company and potentially dangerous to civilians.
"Well, he didn't lose them. Someone broke into his lab. Calvin thinks it was a foreign job and that has the military in fits," Steinmen explained.
Michael could imagine. This was troubling.
"Oh, my wife's back. I have to go. Let me know right away if you find anything. Day or night," Steinmen hurriedly.
"You bet," Michael promised.
"And Michael?" Steinmen began nervously.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks so much. Your help on this means a lot to me," Steinmen finished.
"Not a problem Eli. That's what friends are for. Tell your beautiful wife I said 'hello'," Michael said breezily.
"Not a chance," Steinmen said acidly. "She'll leave me for you."
They both cut the line laughing.
The courier arrived an hour and a half later and Michael spent the rest of the day pouring over the files. As he worked he input the data he found into his tracking systems and the JSA's. He didn't get any matches on MO but then he didn't think he would. Embezzlement was a crime of opportunity not of intent.
The more and more he worked on Elijah's files with little progress the more and more his mind started to wander to Co-tech and their break in. He wanted to know what was taken and what it could be used for.
Steimen was a friend and the embezzlement could devastate his business but Co-tech could have lost something potentially dangerous to civilians. He wanted to know what it was they had lost in order to warn the caped community. If they knew that something potentially dangerous was out there, they could prepare for it.
Michael decided that the next day he would leave for a short trip to The City of Brotherly Love, home base of Co-tech. He and his T-Spheres would drop in on the site of the robbery and see what sort of information they could find.
Just as Michael got off the phone with his assistant, who had promised to have his flight booked and his hotel suite reserved by the next morning, his phone rang again.
Michael glared down at it and sighed. Some days it felt like all he did was talk on his cell phone. He flicked it open with a snap without even bothering to read the caller ID.
"Yes," he barked into the phone, rubbing at his tired eyes with his free hand.
"Mr. Holt?" an accented voice on the other end of the line asked.
"This is he," Michael confirmed. The woman's accent was British and Michael racked his brain trying to remember whose voice this was.
"This is Eva Davies. Vanessa Calet gave me your name and said you might be interested in an art show I'm doing in London next week," she said smoothly and it all clicked into place for Michael.
"Yes, you represent Jackson?" he asked interestedly.
"I do," she confirmed. "The show is invite only. Would you be interested in receiving an invitation?"
"I would very much. Thank you," Michael said and he gave her his address.
They both ended the call politely and, shortly after, Michael called his assistant again. He would need another plane ticket. Philadelphia to London. Non-stop.
Chapter Five
Author: Aravis Tarkheena
Part: 4/12
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 Four
When Calet called Michael, almost a week after his dinner party, Michael was sitting at his desk in his home office skimming some paper work. Michael had spent nearly the entire morning trying, and ultimately failing, to make himself focus on his work. For some reason he couldn't concentrate.
Michael Holt had never had any sort of problems concentrating. He was always focused and intent on his goals. He wasn't accustomed to not being able to throw the full weight of his intellect into his self assigned tasks.
Lately, however, Michael found his accustomed diligence deserting him. He would suddenly shake himself abruptly only to realize he had been sitting there for the past ten minutes completely ignoring the tasks at hand. His mind would wander to places that it hadn't gone in years. It was slightly unnerving.
Five days ago he had stopped a his local coffee shop for some much needed caffeine. As he was standing in line his gaze wandered to the display case that held various and assorted baked goods. On the left was a large sugar cookie with brightly colored sprinkles scattered across the stop. Michael had found himself thinking how it looked like something his brother Jeffery would have enjoyed.
The shock of that off hand thought had stunned Michael for a long moment. It had been years since he had thought about Jeffery. In the time immediately after Jeffery had died Michael thought about him almost constantly. He missed him and grieved for him but as the years passed, thoughts of Jeffery had faded into the background. It had been quite a long time since he even thought of Jeffery's name, let alone the types of things that Jeffery liked.
It had brought that familiar empty ache in the center of Michael's chest, the physical embodiment of grief Michael had found, to the surface again.
It was mildly disconcerting.
Michael had almost succeeded in putting the incident out of his mind when, two days later, he decided to have his lunch in a park near his office building. As he was sitting on a park bench, unwrapping his sandwich, a woman walked by with a bouquet of sunflowers. She was gazing at the bright yellow flowers with rapture and talking animatedly on her cell phone as she passed Michael.
Michael found himself smiling and remembering the several occasions that he had brought a similar bouquet home for Paula over the years that they had been married. Michael vividly remembered the bright smile on her face when he handed her the flowers. He remembered exactly which vase she would use to arrange them. He remembered catching her standing in the doorway of their kitchen and just looking at the flowers, sitting in their vase in the middle of their small, second hand dining table.
As the young woman walked away with her sunflowers in hand, Michael felt the low hum of happy memories fade into that empty ache again. He hadn't eaten his sandwich, merely re-wrapped it and walked briskly back to the office. Michael had thrown himself into his work as best he could, in an effort to distract himself.
Unfortunately, it was that afternoon that Michael's little bouts of distractions had begun. He had been so upset and unnerved at the sudden flood of memories of his wife and brother that Michael began to slip into bouts of pointless introspection.
Over the next few days Michael would find himself wondering if Jeffery would have ever grown out of his taste for exceptionally sweet things every time he passed a newsstand with candy prominently displayed in front of the window. As he walked by the florist shop he wondered if Paula's favorite flower would have changed over the years or if her fondness of sunflowers would have been perpetual.
Most heart-rending of all, each time he passed a small child he wondered what, exactly, his child Terry would have looked like if he had ever lived long enough to be born. Michael wondered, for the first time, if Terry would have had a developmental disability like Jeffrey, or if he would have been a prodigy like Michael. He wondered if Terry would have had Paula's eyes or his own. He wondered what sorts of things Terry would have enjoyed. Would he have wanted to be an architect, a fireman or a doctor?
How would he feel about his father being Mr. Terrific?
How would Paula?
Michael wouldn't have even considered putting on the mask and jacket if he hadn't lost his wife and child. Would he have found his family and his job as fulfilling as he found his work with the Justice Society of America?
They were things Michael hadn't even let himself consider before and he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why he was thinking about them now. The thoughts came to him with the inevitability of a setting sun. Night or day the specters of his lost family seemed to be intent on haunting him and Michael couldn't figure out how to stop it.
Even as his eyes flew over the page in his hands, Michael could feel his mind beginning to wander. The ring of the telephone was a much appreciated distraction and he snatched it up, flipping his phone open and pressing it to his ear without even checking the caller ID read out.
"Hello!" he said into the mouthpiece, attempting to keep his voice even and neutral didn't even occur to him.
There was a pause on the other end of the line before a voice broke though the silence. "Holt?" Calet responded hesitantly. He had clearly noticed something off about Michael's tone.
Michael cleared his throat and tried for something a bit more cheerful. "Auggie! How are you? We didn't eat you out of house and home last week, did we?" he asked in a booming voice.
Augustus Calet laughed on the other end of the line. "We have tap water and stale crackers to live on, I think," he teased and Michael laughed politely.
"What's new in your neck of the woods?" Michael asked when their laughter died down. "Need a consult?"
"Ha!" Calet repiled, "I couldn't afford you."
Calet could, actually, afford Michael's consulting rates. Probably more easily than Elijah Steinmen could and Michael told him so. Affably, of course.
There was a slight hesitation on the other end of the line.
"Speaking of Steinmen, have you heard from him recently?" Calet asked in cautious tone of voice that put Michael on his guard.
Now what?
"He cut me a check a few days ago for the work I did for him. I haven't heard anything from him since. Why do you ask?"
"Apparently one of his clerks caught some serious embezzlement going on," Calet said warily. "The clerk mentioned it to one of Steinmen's bigger stock holders and now the police are involved."
Michael straightened in his chair and threw the sheaf of papers he had been holding down on his desk.
"Do they know who did it?" he asked, pursing his lips with concern.
"No one has a clue," Calet said and Michael could almost hear the man shrug on the other end of the line.
"Shit," Michael said succinctly.
"Agreed," Calet replied and then hesitated for another minute.
"What is it?" Michael asked, picking up the meaning behind Calet's silence. He had more to say.
"It's just... Weren't you just working security for him?" Calet asked before he continued hastily. "I just don't want your reputation brought down because of this mess. I was just worried."
Michael was sure that most of Calet's professed 'concern' stemmed from the fact that he used one of Michael's security systems on his buildings. He clearly didn't want to use Michael's programs if they had failed for someone else, for whatever reason.
"No, I didn't work with his books or computers. I just did his building and lab security protocols," Michael replied distractedly.
"Oh good," Calet replied with relief. "I was worried you were losing your touch."
"Never," Michael assured him. "Listen Auggie, I'm going to let you go. I want to give Elijah a call and see if he needs any help."
"Sure, sure," Calet agreed easily. "My wife wants you to know that she gave your number to the agent of that artist you liked, by the way."
Michael nodded to himself and answered distractedly. "Tell her I said thanks and that she throws a hell of a party."
"Will do," Calet assured him and they hung up.
Michael sat there staring at the phone for a few long moments before he flicked it open again and punched in Elijah Steinmen's number. It rang three times before the line clicked open and Steinmen sounded breathless.
"Hey Michael, I don't mean to be rude but I've got a lot going on right now and--" Elijah was speaking all in a rush but Michael cut him off.
"I heard about it. Did you need any help?" he asked with concern.
Elijah hesitated. "At this point, I don't know if I can afford your fee..."
"Don't worry about it. It's a favor between friends, that's all," Michael assured him and Elijah sighed with relief.
"I would love your input, Michael. I have no idea how this happened. I have good security and I have a pile of people checking each others' work. No one saw this coming," Elijah's voice sounded strained and slightly panicked the more he talked about the situation.
"Don't worry. I'll check it over and see where the inconsistencies are. Don't worry Eli, we'll find the guy," Michael assured him.
"Thanks. I'll have a courier send you the documents and files," Steinmen said.
They chatted for a few minutes more about what lawyers Steinmen had hired and how the police were treating everyone. What lay unspoken between the two of them was Steinmen's standing on the bid for the government contract. There was no doubt, now that his systems had been compromised, that the government wouldn't accept his bid.
Michael wasn't sure what, exactly, the contract was for. Those things were often kept very secret. Steinmen was probably under contract to keep whatever information he got before the bidding started a secret.
The problem was that Steinmen had put a lot of cash into beefing up his security systems. He had paid Michael a large sum to keep his buildings secure and, Michael was almost sure, he had paid another company or organization to do over his electronic security. Steinmen was hoping to get the money for the government contract to cover the costs of the security and then some.
Now, even after Steinmen had paid all that money to the security men, he was out all the money that had been embezzled.
A double hit.
Michael wasn't entirely sure how much cash Steinman was out, but it was very probably a substantial sum or the stock holders wouldn't have brought the police into things so quickly.
"How are you holding up?" Michael eventually asked as their conversation started to wind down.
"I'm alright, I suppose. It could have been worse. I could have ended up like Calvin Coskin and lost a couple million dollars worth of prototypes," Steinmen said tiredly.
"Coskin lost prototypes?" Michael asked with some surprise. He didn't know Coskin personally and only had a passing idea of what it was Co-tech specialized in. He knew they did a lot of hush-hush work for the government. No one knew what they did exactly, but there were whispers of Star Wars type technology that would usher in the new age of war fare.
For Co-tech to lose any prototypes was both devastating to the company and potentially dangerous to civilians.
"Well, he didn't lose them. Someone broke into his lab. Calvin thinks it was a foreign job and that has the military in fits," Steinmen explained.
Michael could imagine. This was troubling.
"Oh, my wife's back. I have to go. Let me know right away if you find anything. Day or night," Steinmen hurriedly.
"You bet," Michael promised.
"And Michael?" Steinmen began nervously.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks so much. Your help on this means a lot to me," Steinmen finished.
"Not a problem Eli. That's what friends are for. Tell your beautiful wife I said 'hello'," Michael said breezily.
"Not a chance," Steinmen said acidly. "She'll leave me for you."
They both cut the line laughing.
The courier arrived an hour and a half later and Michael spent the rest of the day pouring over the files. As he worked he input the data he found into his tracking systems and the JSA's. He didn't get any matches on MO but then he didn't think he would. Embezzlement was a crime of opportunity not of intent.
The more and more he worked on Elijah's files with little progress the more and more his mind started to wander to Co-tech and their break in. He wanted to know what was taken and what it could be used for.
Steimen was a friend and the embezzlement could devastate his business but Co-tech could have lost something potentially dangerous to civilians. He wanted to know what it was they had lost in order to warn the caped community. If they knew that something potentially dangerous was out there, they could prepare for it.
Michael decided that the next day he would leave for a short trip to The City of Brotherly Love, home base of Co-tech. He and his T-Spheres would drop in on the site of the robbery and see what sort of information they could find.
Just as Michael got off the phone with his assistant, who had promised to have his flight booked and his hotel suite reserved by the next morning, his phone rang again.
Michael glared down at it and sighed. Some days it felt like all he did was talk on his cell phone. He flicked it open with a snap without even bothering to read the caller ID.
"Yes," he barked into the phone, rubbing at his tired eyes with his free hand.
"Mr. Holt?" an accented voice on the other end of the line asked.
"This is he," Michael confirmed. The woman's accent was British and Michael racked his brain trying to remember whose voice this was.
"This is Eva Davies. Vanessa Calet gave me your name and said you might be interested in an art show I'm doing in London next week," she said smoothly and it all clicked into place for Michael.
"Yes, you represent Jackson?" he asked interestedly.
"I do," she confirmed. "The show is invite only. Would you be interested in receiving an invitation?"
"I would very much. Thank you," Michael said and he gave her his address.
They both ended the call politely and, shortly after, Michael called his assistant again. He would need another plane ticket. Philadelphia to London. Non-stop.
Chapter Five