Title: Club Descent: Regrets

Author: Aeon Cole

Rating: FRM

Genre: AU, angst, hurt/comfort

Warning: Slash

Fandom: CSI Miami

Pairing: Horatio/Speed

Challenge: Lover100

Table: table-c

Prompt: #61 Secret

Word Count: 1620

Summary: A chance meeting at a club does not work out as he'd hoped.

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me and I am making no money from this.

Author's Note: This is NOT part of my H/Speed universe. This is my first AU. I have plans to turn this into a limited series.

Friday evening, after he'd completed the last of the paperwork on his latest case, Horatio decided to take a ride back to the club he'd visited the night before. As hard as he'd tried, he couldn't get the young man with the sad brown eyes off his mind. He figured if he was a regular at the club then maybe he would be there tonight. He still had no idea what he would do or say to him after running away the night before but the urge to see him again was too great to ignore.

He pulled his car into the lot and shut off the engine. His keen police mind was already surveying the parking lot, comparing it to his memory of the night before. The lot was full of nondescript vehicles with one exception. Thursday night there had been a yellow Ducati motorcycle parked in front of the club that was not present at the moment. He did not know for certain that that particular vehicle belonged to the young man he'd met but he could imagine that it was his. It seemed to fit him perfectly.

Horatio took a deep breath, steadying his nerves before he got out of his car. He could feel his heart pounding and his palms sweating as he approached the front entrance of Club Descent for the second time in two nights. He pulled the door open and peered inside, not seeing the one he was looking for. He felt a strange combination of disappointment and relief as he walked inside. He did notice that the same man was tending bar as had been there the night before and decided he might be able to garner some information from him.

He walked up to the bar and took a seat at the same spot he had occupied when he'd met Tim the previous night. The bartender wandered up to him, showing no sign that he recognized him. He order a scotch, just as he'd done before and waited. The bartender returned with his drink and placed it on the counter in front of him.

Just as the man turned to leave, Horatio said, "Excuse me."

The bartender turned back and asked, "There a problem with the drink, buddy?"

Horatio smiled. "No," he said. "It's fine. I was just wondering, do you remember me from last night?"

The bartender gave him a blank stare, a move obviously well practiced and probably very necessary in his profession, especially in a place like this where people wished to remain anonymous. "Lots of guys go through here every night," he answered. "Can't recall every one."

Horatio smirked and nodded his head. Years of experience in interrogating suspects told him that the man was lying. "How many of those guys are sporting this?" he asked, gesturing to his most distinguishing feature, the bright red hair.

The bartender looked him up and down before asking, "You a cop?"

Horatio couldn't help smiling at the man's perceptiveness. He'd left his badge and gun locked safely away in his car before entering the club. But, his professionalism demanded that he answer truthfully.

"I'm not here as a cop," he said.

The bartender nodded. "I remember you," he said.

"There, um, there was a young man I was talking to last night." Again the bartender nodded. Horatio could tell he wasn't going to volunteer anything too easily. "Do you know him?" he asked.

"Nope," the man answered quickly. "Never seen him before."

Again Horatio could tell he was lying. He gave the bartender a tight smile, the one he frequently used in the interrogation room. "Funny," he said as he glanced down at the drink in his hand. "Because he said he was a regular here."

The man remained silent so Horatio dug into his pocket, pulling out a small wad of bills. He pulled twenty dollars from the pile and placed it on the table. The bartender glanced down. "Name's Tim," he said.

But before he could take the cash, Horatio quickly placed his hand over it. "You can do better than that. Tell me something I don't know," he said smoothly.

"Speedle, Tim Speedle. Some hot-shot researcher at the university," the man said.

Horatio was surprised by that bit of information. Tim hadn't looked like a college professor. He moved his hand away and the bartender snapped up the cash.

"Any idea if he'll be in tonight?" Horatio asked.

"Not likely. He took off with one of the club kids last night. Won't see him again 'till next weekend."

Horatio hid the hurt he felt at knowing that his actions had caused Tim to take off for the weekend with someone else. He was still trying to figure out what had made him run away like he did. He downed his drink and got up to leave when a thought struck him.

He turned back to the bartender and asked, "You know what he drives?"

The bartender raised an eyebrow so Horatio pulled another twenty out of his pocket, holding it up just out of the man's reach.

"Yellow motorcycle," he answered. "One of them flashy racin' bikes."

Horatio handed over the bill and said thanks before leaving the club. He would head home and do some research of his own at the university's web site.

888

Tim wandered around his empty apartment. He picked up a book and sat down to read but he couldn't concentrate. Tossing the book onto the coffee table he picked up the TV remote. He flipped through a few channels but couldn't find anything worth watching so he tossed the remote on the sofa and began pacing the room again. Ever since Thursday night he'd had trouble concentrating on anything and he didn't like it. He had sent the kid that he had picked up at the club, he couldn't even remember his name, home Friday morning. He just couldn't get into the hook up. It was now Saturday afternoon and still, every time he closed his eyes, he saw Horatio. There was only one other person who had ever gotten under his skin after such a brief meeting like Horatio had, and he had died a long time ago.

Tim had even had a dream about the stranger Friday night that had caused him to wake up with an almost painful hard on. Now he wondered if he would ever see the redhead again. The whole thing was so mysterious. Why had he chosen that particular night to walk into that particular club? He recalled looking into Horatio's blue eyes and seeing something hidden away, something secret.

He sighed, finally fed up with his restlessness. "This is ridiculous," he muttered as he grabbed his helmet and headed for the door. Maybe a ride would help clear his mind.

Not surprisingly, after driving around for almost an hour, he ended up at Club Descent. He parked his bike, took off his helmet, and pushed his way through the front door. A quick glance around the club revealed the usual crowd of club kids in a sea of leather, but no denim clad redhead. Tim sighed and walked over to the bar. He didn't really expect to find him here tonight, not after the way he'd fled after Tim had kissed him so suddenly. He was still kicking himself over that. It was obvious to him, in hindsight, that Horatio was not like the others who hung out at Club Descent. He should have known that his usual approach wouldn't have worked.

The bartender wandered over and said, "Hey Tim. Didn't expect to see you here again this weekend."

Tim shrugged. "Hey Max. Give me a JD, neat."

Max reached down under the bar and pulled out a bottle and a glass. He set the glass down in front of Tim and poured the golden liquid. Tim picked up the glass and was about to take a sip when Max said, "That guy was here looking for you yesterday."

Tim raised an eyebrow but was only half paying attention. "What guy?" he asked.

"That redheaded dude you scared away on Thursday," Max answered him with a smirk.

Max had debated with himself for most of Friday night as to whether or not to tell Tim what had happened that night. He wasn't proud of the fact that he'd allowed himself to be bribed into giving out personal information, though he hadn't told the guy anything that he couldn't have figured out on his own eventually. Finally he decided that he owed it to Tim to tell him what the man had said.

Tim looked up from his drink. "Really? What did he say?" He was trying not to sound too eager but he felt a sudden adrenalin rush at his words.

Max didn't say anything at first as Tim looked at him expectantly. "He, um, was asking a bunch of questions about you."

"What did you tell him?" Tim asked.

"Not much," Max answered but Tim could tell he was hedging.

"What is it? What's wrong? What did he want to know?" Tim shot the questions at one right after the other.

Finally Max sighed. "He's a cop."

Tim's eyes widened and he placed his drink back on the bar. "Excuse me?"

"He's a cop, Tim," Max said again.

Tim's mind flashed back to that night and his initial impression of the newcomer. Several things suddenly made sense to him including his hesitancy and why he'd fled after the kiss. Then Tim's paranoia kicked in and even though he couldn't deny that something had passed between them the other night, he began wondering why a cop would be interested in him.

TBC