Well, I need another fandom like I need a hole in the head. I guess I 
must need that hole, because here we go.

The other day I was flipping past Space (The Imagination Station!) and 
suddenly stopped. Ooooh. Big guy with curly hair and a babe in a uniform. 
Tell me more! War of the Worlds? You're joking! Then I found out that the 
babe gets replaced in the second season by Adrian Paul (looking, 
unfortunately, pretty scuzzy). I gave this Canadian show a skip the first 
time around, but through a slash filter...

------------------------------
Shelter
by Lianne Burwell
March 1998
------------------------------

"Quick. This way."

Harrison Blackwood followed his companion, keeping one eye out for aliens 
and the other eye on the trim, denim-covered rear in front of him - not 
that it was much of a hardship to watch the man move. Normally, He would 
have asked Colonel Ironhorse for an explanation of where they were going, 
but with a pack of aliens on their tails, they didn't really have time to 
discuss plans. Ironhorse knew the area, and he obviously had a plan.

The dark-haired man led them through back streets into the suburbs. It 
was late at night, and no one was out, thank God. Harrison was about to 
give up and ask where they were going, when Ironhorse grabbed him by the 
arm and pulled him into a backyard, behind what looked to be an old 
farmhouse. It was out of place among all the cookie-cutter suburban homes 
around it..

"Here we go." Ironhorse lifted a brick in the walk-way and pulled out a 
key, while Harrison kept an eye out for aliens. The streets were silent, 
but that didn't mean anything. Then the colonel led him to a shed.

"You can't be serious! We can't hide for long in *that*."

"*Trust* me, doctor. Have I ever let your down?" There wasn't much that 
Harrison could say in response to *that*. Without the colonel, their 
group probably would have been dead several times over by now.

They entered the shed - almost a barn in itself - and locked the door 
behind them. Then Ironhorse headed for a pile of boxes in the corner and 
pressed the key into a hidden lock. After the key was turned, the 
apparently solid pile of boxes moved aside easily. Underneath them was a 
trapdoor. He opened it up, and indicated for Harrison to go down the 
ladder. Following him, Ironhorse stopped briefly to press a lever. Above 
them, the trapdoor closed and Harrison could hear the scrapes as some 
mechanism moved the crates back over the hatch. They finished descending 
to the bottom of the ladder, in pitch darkness.

"There. Without the key, those crates are immovable. We're safe for the 
moment."

"Is there a back door to this place?" Harrison asked in the dark. He 
could hear Ironhorse fumbling, then there was a click and the lights came 
on. 

"Of course there is, but I suggest we wait until we're sure that we 
aren't just going to run into our hunters again. Don't worry, the other 
entrance is equally well-hidden."

Harrison glanced around the room. There were several cots against one 
wall, and a table in the middle of the room with a few old-fashioned 
folding chairs leaning against another wall. A pile of crates proved to 
contain canned goods, bottled water and dry rations. A small hotplate was 
on the table, along with a transistor radio. Speakers and a control panel 
were mounted on the wall near the ladder. Everything was bare, and 
military-tidy. The perfect hiding place.

"How did you know about this place?" he asked in open curiosity.

"The house belongs to an old commander of mine. He worked in covert 
operations for years, and had lots of enemies. When he bought the house, 
it was in the middle of nowhere, the suburbs not having been built up 
yet. He had this bolt hole built, then used his military connections to 
cover up any evidence of its existence. He wanted someplace for his 
family to hide if old enemies came calling."

"But he told *you* about it?"

The man shrugged, a distant expression on his handsome face. "We were 
close. A while back I ran into him. I told him that I was involved in a 
project so secret that almost no one in command knew about it, and that I 
was up against some *very* nasty types. Oh, don't worry doctor. I didn't 
tell him what *sort* of nasty types. Anyway, he told me how to find this 
place if I was ever in the area and needed to go to ground, and here we 
are."

"Here we are." Harrison nodded. Friends and word of mouth was one of the 
main ways that the project operated, along with Drake's computers. It 
certainly helped them this time. Ironhorse went over to open the panel on 
the wall. He flipped it open, and pressed a button. Suddenly sounds were 
coming through the speakers.

At first there was nothing but night sounds. Then footsteps and voices. 
The voices gained in clarity until they could tell that the people were 
speaking in the gurgling sounds of the alien language. Harrison raised an 
eyebrow, and Ironhorse smiled back.

"Well hidden microphones. We'll know when it's safe."

They listened for half an hour, until the last of the voices disappeared, 
and the normal night noises were all they could hear. Ironhorse shut the 
speaker and closed the hatch.

"I suppose we should be on our way." Then he yawned, and looked faintly 
embarrassed. Harrison grinned.

"No rush. They're probably still in the area, and it's late. We're not 
expected back at base for a couple days, so we might as well get some 
sleep. Think your friend will mind if we have something to eat and use 
the cots?"

"No, he won't. There's even a small bathroom - but no shower."

"That's fine."

Harrison started looking through a crate for something appealing for 
dinner. He pulled out a couple cans of beef stew. That seemed to be 
pretty much standard fare in the shelter. He wasn't about to try any of 
the freeze-dried stuff if he had a choice. He opened the cans and dumped 
the contents into a sauce pan, and turned the burner on. Ironhorse pulled 
out some dishes and poured water into glasses.

"There's tang, if you want some flavor to it."

Harrison grimaced. "Thanks, but I think I'll stick with plain water. It's 
probably healthier. It certainly tastes better." The colonel snorted. The 
shelter was starting to fill with the aroma of stew, and Harrison's mouth 
was watering. Hopefully the smell wouldn't escape the shelter to give 
them away.

The stew was surprisingly good, for something that came out of a can. 
Neither one was *really* eager for sleep, while the chance of discovery 
still hung over their head, so they filled the time with conversation. 
Discussion of plans for dealing with the aliens didn't last too long, 
becoming sillier and sillier as time went by. They gave up on that topic 
when they started to speculate on using radioactive material to lure 
the aliens under a very large box. Then the conversation turned to other 
matters. Politics. Science. Personal histories.

As time went by, Harrison found himself relaxing, listening to the 
improbably tales that the military man was spinning, a wide grin feeling 
like it would split his face. He realized, with a start, that he hadn't 
really felt like smiling in a long time. The smile on Ironhorse's face 
was equally unfamiliar, open and honest. He was so used to the grim 
expression the man usually wore, that it took him by surprise. He'd never 
had time to actually talk to the man, except when discussing plans, and 
was pleased to find that the man had a wicked sense of humor, as well as 
being widely read. He finally decided to ask a question that had been 
bothering him since they'd arrived here.

"So, this old commander of yours. If he's paranoid enough to *build* this 
shelter, how is it that he would tell you about it?"

The smile disappeared from the colonel's face, and Harrison winced. 
Obviously not a good subject.

"We were... friends. He still worries about me."

"Good friends?"

"Very. He considered me... part of the family."

Harrison noted the slightly pained look in the brown eyes, but couldn't 
help asking.

"Family. How close were you?"

"I was his aide for three years. We ended up in some nasty situations 
together. We were very close." He glanced up at Harrison, looking like 
he was debating with himself over the wisdom of saying something. "We...
were lover, also."

Harrison blinked in surprise. "Really? I never would have thought..."

"What? That I'd sleep with my commanding officer? I was his aide. We were 
around each other every day. It just happened. Or is it that I would 
sleep with a man? If you have a problem with that, I don't care." The man 
was putting up walls, angry and daring him to make something of it.

"Why would I have a problem with it?" Harrison was genuinely puzzled. As 
a scientist, few things struck him as morally wrong. Experiments on 
humans, yes. Aliens trying to take over the planet, yes. Sex between 
consenting adults, no. Ironhorse sighed, seeing his expression.

"I'm sorry. Do remember, I'm in a profession that doesn't look kindly on 
same-sex relationships. Having an affair with a superior is bad enough. 
If someone found out that I'd had an affair with a married *male* 
superior, it would ruin me completely."

"Understood. It's not like I'd tell anyone."

"No, I know you wouldn't. If I thought you might, I wouldn't have said 
anything."

"I was just surprised. I've never seen you show an interest in, well, sex 
at all. " He quirked a smile. "Makes you seem more... human."

Ironhorse laughed, and the tension broke.

* * * * *

Hours later, both men were yawning. Periodic checks of the microphones 
hadn't found any more evidence of alien hunters in the area, but both men 
were too tired and tense to head out again.

"I'm going to wash up, then try out one of these uncomfortable-looking 
cots," Harrison said. "Sound good?" Ironhorse just yawned. They washed 
the dishes, and their hands and faces and whatever else they could reach 
with a facecloth, and climbed into the cots. They were as uncomfortable 
as Harrison expected, too small to properly stretch out on for either 
man, with thin, lumpy mattresses, but they had both learned to sleep 
anywhere.

But Harrison found sleep elusive. The tension of recent months had built 
to the point where he was finding it impossible to relax enough to sleep. 
The bouts of insomnia had been coming more frequently the last while. He 
finally rolled over, gingerly, on the cot and opened his eyes. Ironhorse 
was also awake.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

Ironhorse gave a slight snort. "Ridiculous, isn't it. I can sleep 
*anywhere*, but this place is just too damn quiet." Harrison sat up.

"And we are both too tense. That's dangerous. The tension builds until 
it's difficult to think straight. Then you start to make mistakes."

"You don't have to lecture me, doctor. I learned all of this first hand 
in the military."

Harrison felt a little sheepish. "Sorry. Well, if you learnt all this in 
the military, did you learn a solution?"

Ironhorse sat up and ran a hand over his face and hair, rumpling 
it until he hardly looked like the same man. "Several, most of which 
don't apply here."

"Like?"

"Exercise." They both looked around the small space and snorted. No 
space to do more than pace, and that wasn't going to help. Harrison 
didn't even think that his usual yoga stretches would help, though he 
could do them in the space. "Mental distraction." They'd already talked 
themselves hoarse, the radio didn't pick up much and there was nothing to 
read. "Sex." Ironhorse flushed.

Harrison laughed. "Why, colonel. That almost sounds like a pick-up line."

"Well, you asked." Ironhorse sounded defensive.

"True, I did. And what about you?"

"What?"

"Are *you* asking?"

"What!?"

Harrison raised an eyebrow and quirked a half-smile. "You might be 
surprised at the answer, you know." Ironhorse went very red.

"Listen, doctor, if this is some sort of joke."

"No joke, colonel."

"I can't believe you're suggesting..."

"Why not?" Harrison got up and went over to stand in front of Ironhorse, 
looking down at the smaller man. "We are both in a long-term situation 
full of tension and death. A little life affirmation once in a while is 
good, if not necessary, but we can't exactly go looking outside the 
group. Any outside lover would become a potential target. Suzanne has 
Debi to look after. Norton hasn't shown any interest in anything other 
than his computers. So, we let ourselves get tied into knots, or we help 
each other out. We both have past experience in this..."

"*Both*!?"

"Yes, *both*. Do I look like a monk to you?" He almost laughed at the 
expression on the other man's face. Obviously the Colonel *hadn't* ever 
considered that Harrison might have any experience, or even interest in 
sex, with either male or female partners. He found it almost amusing, 
though he wouldn't embarrass the man by showing it.

And he wasn't lying. Sex *was* one of the best ways to lower tension 
levels, as they both knew, and he did find the man *very* attractive. 
Hell, given a chance it could become even more. He'd like to have that 
chance, he realized. He pulled the colonel to his feet, fully conscious, 
for once, of the size difference between them. The military man had a 
charisma that seemed to fill a room, but he was actually a couple inches 
shorter than Harrison, and slighter in build. He knew he was standing 
well inside the other man's personal space, and he was enjoying it.

"Well, colonel. What do you say?"

"This is crazy!"

"And?"

"It could completely screw up the team dynamic!"

"And?"

"And..." Ironhorse sighed, and shook his head, ruefully. "And my lovers 
usually call me by name. *Harrison*."

Harrison laughed, delightedly. "I would think they do. *Paul*." 

Harrison stepped back for a moment, and started to take his clothes off, 
deliberately keeping eye contact with the other man. Ironhorse smiled, 
and followed suit. Each item was removed, folded neatly, and piled with 
military precision. Once they were both naked, Harrison took the time to 
admire the other man's form. Lean and trim, not an once of wasted weight, 
and almost completely hairless, except for the tufts under the arms and 
the curls around the groin, thanks to his Amerindian heritage. His cock 
wasn't over-endowed, but it was nicely formed, elegantly arching up. 
Harrison knew what he looked like, himself. A former lover had once 
referred to him as a large teddy bear, bulky and furry. He stepped in 
close again.

"Well?" he asked, eyebrows arching. Ironhorse smiled, then used a hand 
to the back of the head to pull him down into a kiss. This was promising, 
Harrison thought. Someone just interested in a simple fuck doesn't 
usually go in for kissing. He responded, but let the other man determine 
the pace. The colonel pulled away.

"A little more *active* participation would be appropriate here."

Harrison grinned. "Yes, sir!" he said, then pulled the man in. This time, 
*he* set the pace, and it was a hungry kiss. Soon, he had Ironhorse 
pressed up against a wall, pinned by superior body weight, and they were 
moving against each other with practiced ease. Harrison smiled against 
the mouth. It was everything he could have hoped for and more. Then 
Ironhorse pulled away.

"So, Harrison. Are we just going to hump, or are you going to fuck me?"

He was surprised for a moment, not expecting the question, then thought 
about it. He shook his head, regretfully. "Much as I'd like to take you 
up on that offer, trying it without lube or condom would be taking a 
foolish risk. Spit just doesn't cover it, so to speak."

"I'm clean. Unless you aren't..."

"Don't be silly, it's not that. Renal tears have a higher risk of getting 
infected. If there was a proper lube, I'd be more than willing to oblige, 
but I don't recall seeing anything that would serve." He almost laughed 
at the disappointed pout on Ironhorse's face. "Don't worry. Next time 
I'll make sure I slip a tube in my jacket before we head out. Now, where 
were we?"

"I'm sure we'll figure it out." Ironhorse reached down to grab Harrison's 
ass, pulling him in tight. They were moving together, kissing again, and 
Harrison was surprised that neither of them was passing out from oxygen 
deprivation. He wanted to taste the colonel's cock, but couldn't seem to 
force himself to release that gorgeous mouth. Then Ironhorse got a 
speculative look on his face. He pulled away and reached down to start 
jerking at his own cock, until he was filling his hand with his own 
semen. He pulled away with a gasp.

"There... lube..." he panted, holding out his hand. When Harrison just looked 
at him, Ironhorse drizzled part of it on his cock, the rest into his 
hand, then he turned to face the wall. "C'mon, doctor. The *original* 
lube. Use it before it dries."

Harrison laughed. He quickly prepared the way, then added a bit of spit 
to the tip of his cock and pressed his way in.

Glorious. The colonel may have had experience, but it couldn't have been 
recent, he was so tight. He took as long as he could, determined not to 
cause any pain or harm. Unfortunately, the other man had other plans. He 
lunged backwards, when Harrison was only half-way in.

"Careful!"

"I don't *want* careful, I want *action*. Now *move*!"

"Yes, sir!" he said, with a grin in his voice. Then he was thrusting, 
harder and harder, responding to the panted demands. He reached around 
the other man and grasped his genitals, coaxing a second erection with 
ease. Obviously, both of them had been going without for far too long. 
Well, that was going to change, from now on.

With self-control - and luck - he managed to time it so that his orgasm 
hit at the same time as the other man's, and they collapsed to their 
knees, leaning against the wall, still. There were very obvious stains on 
it, which would have to be cleaned before they left.

"You know," Ironhorse said, in a speculative tone. "The mattresses on the 
cots could be put together on the floor. Might be a bit more comfortable, 
not to mention steadier."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

Mattresses and blankets were maneuvered into the middle of the room, and 
the two men climbed into the resulting strange bed. Ironhorse draped 
himself over Harrison, much to his delight. He smiled down at the dark 
head, but the other man was already asleep. Somehow, he didn't think he'd 
have any trouble getting to sleep, either, now.

* * * * *

The next day, they woke about noon. They washed and ate, then cleaned up 
the evidence of their activities. Harrison left some money for the food, 
and Ironhorse left a brief thank you note. Then they slipped out the back 
entrance.

As they were leaving the area, Ironhorse handed an envelope, with the 
shelter key in it, to a passing kid, and asked her to put it in the 
farmhouse's mailbox. Then they headed back to base.

* * * * *

"So that's how you and the colonel got together."

"That's how Paul and I became lovers, yes."

Kincaid stared, pensively, into his beer. He'd guessed that there was 
something between the two men, almost from the start. The pain in the 
bigger man's face whenever Ironhorse's name was brought up. The wistful 
look on his face when he was looking at one of the few surviving pictures 
of the man.

Ironhorse had been good-looking, Kincaid had to give him that. He'd seen 
an old picture of the group, with the dark man standing next to 
Blackwood, wearing a military uniform. Tidy, clean-shaven, he looked more 
hispanic, but the name and the heritage was native american. He and the 
other man, Norton Drake, were both dead. Sometimes Kincaid got the 
feeling that he was a poor substitute for either man.

"Do you regret it?"

"What, becoming lovers? No. We only had a couple of years together, which 
I *do* regret, but I'd rather have had that time, than nothing at all. 
But his death hurt a *lot*."

"I kinda thought you and Suzanne..."

"Suzanne?" Blackwood gave a laugh. "No, we're good friends and allies, 
but I don't think we'll ever be anything more than that. Besides, I don't 
think I'll leave myself open for that sort of pain again. Maybe, when 
this is over, I might try again. If I'm alive, that is. Until then, I'll 
stick with my memories. They're safer."

The man lifted his glass, as in a toast, then drained it and put it down, 
face-down. He stood and tossed a couple of bills onto the table. "I'll 
see you later," he said, then headed out the door.

Kincaid watched him go. He wasn't really in the mood for drinking 
anymore, at least not by himself. He paid his tab, then headed for the 
door as well. On the street, he glanced in the direction that Blackwood 
would have gone, replaying the conversation in his mind. The expressions 
that had passed over the bearded face. The pain in the deep voice. The 
statement about not taking the chance again, not while the conflict 
continued. Then he turned and headed in a different direction.

"Pity."

THE END