------------------------------
A New War #10: Reunion
by Lianne Burwell
March 1999
------------------------------

Paul nodded his thanks to the girl who'd led him and Harrison to their 
guestroom, then turned his attention back to his still oblivious lover.

Harrison had blanked out the moment Paul had walked into the room, and it 
was beginning to worry him. He moved when he was directed, but he didn't 
seem aware of anything. Right now, he was sitting on the edge of the bed 
that Paul had woken up in earlier, still staring off into the distance.

Paul took a moment to really look at his lover. It had been explained to 
him that everyone had thought he was dead for nearly eight years, and he 
could see it in Harrison's face. Deep lines between the eyes and around 
the mouth spoke of a lot of pain, and Paul felt guilty. Rationally, he 
knew that there was no reason for him to feel guilty; he hadn't had any 
control in the matter. Emotionally, though, the thought of Harrison 
grieving him for so long pained him. Mulder had whispered to him, before 
they'd left the library, about how Harrison had spent years living in the 
woods, alone with his grief.

Paul crawled up onto the bed and settled down behind Harrison, wrapping 
his arms around the oblivious man. He buried his face in the shaggy 
curls. Those curls had far more grey than he remembered, but they were as 
thick as ever. He paused, inhaling the familiar scent of the man, then 
began to talk.

"C'mon, love. Wake up. Let me hear that beautiful voice. Do you know how 
much I love listening to you talk? Doesn't matter what about. It could be 
analyzing alien signals, discussing scientific theories or just 
commenting on the weather. And the way your eyes light up when you're 
trying to figure out a problem."

There was a slight movement; a trembling in the large frame he held 
tight. He closed his eyes and kept talking.

"I'm sorry for leaving you alone like that. I should have know that it 
was a trap, but I walked right into it. I left you alone and in pain for 
so long. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

The trembling grew stronger, and there was a choked noise. "Not... not 
your fault..."

Paul's arms tightened. "Harrison..."

"My fault. Left you there. Should have..."

Paul shook his head. "There was no way for you to know." He reached 
around to cup the other man's chin, but Harrison refused to look at him. 
"What is it?"

The older man seemed to crumple inward. "I... you..."

"Well, that made a *lot* of sense, Harrison. Please. *Talk* to me."

Harrison sighed. "I'm not the same man anymore." Paul held his breath, 
his stomach churning. Was it too late? "I'm... old. And you..."

This time he forced the man's face around, meeting reluctant eyes. "And I 
love you."

"But..."

"No 'but's, Harrison. I love you, and unless you don't love me anymore, 
you're not getting rid of me."

Finally, Harrison's arms came up and around him, and he sighed at the 
familiar warmth. "Always love you," was the whispered reply.

Paul pulled back and smiled. "Good," he said, and reached for the man's 
shirt buttons.

Harrison looked painfully shy as Paul undid the buttons one by one. When 
they were all unfastened, he pushed the shirt back off of Harrison's 
shoulders, then completely off of him.

Harrison was thin. Far too thin. He was going to have to do something 
about that. Later, though.

He ran his hand down the lightly-furred chest, his eyes going sad as he 
encountered scars that hadn't been there before. Then he swooped down and 
started nibbling at the man's neck.

Then he pressed the man back until his was lying prone on the bed. He 
pulled back long enough to remove the sweatshirt he was wearing before 
lying back down on top of the larger man.

He moved against the other man, diving in to explore Harrison's mouth. In 
the back of his mind, he noted large hands running up and down his back, 
stroking him. He pulled away from Harrison's mouth and arched into the 
touch before diving back in. Harrison tasted just as good as he 
remembered.

Encouraged by the response, the hands grew bolder. Bit by bit, they moved 
lower, until one slipped under the waistband of his sweatpants. The other 
joined it, and together they gripped Paul's ass and pulled him hard 
against Harrison's groin. A finger dipped hesitantly to run down the 
crease between the cheeks, and he spread his legs obligingly for it.

Paul's control was rapidly disappearing, and he managed to worm a hand 
between their bodies to unzip Harrison's jeans. He lifted his hips 
fractionally and tried to work the denim and cotton beneath down over the 
man's hips.

Harrison lifted his hips to make it easier for his lover, and did the 
same for Paul's sweatpants and underwear. There was a brief pause as they 
were forced to toe off shoes and socks, and then they came together, 
naked flesh against naked flesh.

Harrison was clinging even tighter, making desperate noises in the back 
of his throat. Paul tried to move away, but the other man clutched at him.

"Easy," he said, stroking Harrison's face. "Just want to see if there's 
anything here to use."

Checking the drawer of the bedside table found that someone had very 
kindly left a bottle of KY. Paul wondered briefly if that someone had 
been using it, or if it had been left specifically for them. He didn't 
really care, though.

Paul looked at Harrison, and decided that the man wasn't going to be able 
to do the necessary preparations. He squeezed some of the lube out onto 
his fingers, and reached around to put it where it was going to be 
needed. Once he was sure that he wasn't going to get hurt, he coated 
Harrison's erection, then rolled them over until he was underneath the 
other man.

"See, love? I'm right here. Ready and waiting for you. Wanting you. 
Needing you."

There were tears on the other man's face, and Paul brushed them away. 
Then he brought his knees up to his chest, despite the protests from his 
stiff back, and reached down to guide Harrison in.

Harrison froze, just barely inside Paul. Then he moaned deep in his 
throat, and pressed all the way in in a single stroke. Paul hissed a 
little as he was stretched open, but voiced no complaint. Even if Harrison 
ripped him apart, he wouldn't say a word to distract him. Harrison needed 
this. They *both* needed this.

Buried as deep as he could go, Harrison dropped his head until it was 
nestled against Paul's shoulder. All the tension drained out of him at 
once. Paul ran soothing hands up and down the man's back. "It's all 
right," he whispered, over and over again. "I'm right here. I'm not going 
to leave. Shhh, it's all right."

When Harrison started thrusting, it was almost like he wasn't aware of 
what he was doing. Just small jerks of his hips. Then he raised his head, 
and the thrust became more purposeful. His eyes were fixed on Paul's 
face, almost glowing.

"I love you, Paul," he said, his voice rusty, as if it hadn't been used 
in years. "I love you."

Paul arched into the thrusts, gasping as Harrison hit the right spot the 
way the man always did. The years of separation hadn't changed that. He 
still seemed to know Paul's body better than its owner did.

"I love you, Harrison. Nothing will change that. Not even if *twenty* 
years had gone by."

Harrison's mouth came down on his, and their tongues clashed desperately. 
Harrison's thrusts were coming fast and harder and more erratic. Paul 
could feel his own orgasm coming, almost in sympathy.

Then Harrison froze, and Paul could feel him throbbing deep inside. 
Almost at once, his own climax hit him.

Harrison collapsed on top of him, and they clung tightly to each other.

"Paul," the other man whispered. "Paul."

"I'm right here, and I'm staying here," he told him reassuringly.

Harrison's tears were flowing freely now, and Paul's eyes started to 
water too. The older man looked up at him, and reached an unsteady hand 
to touch Paul's cheeks, as if he were still having trouble believing that 
he was there.

"I wanted to die," he said, and Paul felt his heart freeze at the thought 
of waking up only to find out that Harrison was gone. "But I knew you 
would be angry if I joined you too soon. So I stayed."

Paul grabbed the trembling hand, brought it to his lips and kissed the 
palm. "Thank you," he said. It was all he could think of to say.

They fell asleep that way; naked, sticky and still on top of the covers. 
Neither noticed, a while later, when a quiet form snuck into the room and 
pulled a quilt over top of them.

* * * * *

Kincaid leaned against the wall in the corridor and closed his eyes. Deep 
inside, he carefully let go of a long-held dream. Seeing the two men so 
tightly entwined had brought home the fact that Harrison would never turn 
to him, never need him.

He couldn't find it in him to be disappointed, though. Since the end of 
the war with the Mothren, Harrison had been half-dead inside. Kincaid was 
a little surprised to find that he could accept losing the man if it 
meant repairing that damage. Besides, it wasn't like he'd even *had* 
Harrison. Dead or alive, Paul owned him.

"You okay?"

Kincaid looked up to meet sympathetic green eyes. Krycek was just 
standing there, a study in casual. He smiled at the young man.

"Yeah. I guess I am."

Krycek returned the smile, and slipped an arm around the mercenary's 
shoulders. "C'mon," he said.

Kincaid followed him, a little puzzled and not quite thinking. "Where are 
we going?"

Further down the hallway, Krycek opened a door and waved Kincaid into 
another of the guestrooms. Kincaid turned around, confused.

Before he could voice the question in his mind, he found himself with his 
arms full of the younger man. The artificial arm hung loose, but the 
other was wrapped around him, and surprisingly soft lips were coaxing his 
own open.

He pulled away. "What...?"

Krycek smiled again, Mona Lisa sweet and mysterious. "You don't really 
want to be alone tonight, do you?"

"But..."

Krycek's fingers pressed against his lips, and he automatically opened 
them and sucked the digits in. Krycek moaned, and swayed towards him.

"Neither one of us can have the one we really want," he said, his voice 
gone breathless. "Doesn't mean we have to be alone."

Kincaid tasted sweat and the faint tang of gun-oil. Reluctantly, he let 
the fingers withdraw, but reached out to pull Krycek against him.

"No," he said, bending his neck slightly so their lips could meet. "No, 
we don't."

The kiss was sweet, but quickly grew in intensity. They stumbled towards 
the bed, shedding clothes as they went.

No, they didn't need to be alone. At least, not for one night.

* * * * *

Mulder watched from his doorway as the door closed behind the two men. 
Soon he could faintly hear the distinctive sounds of two people making 
love. He closed his door, his mind running in circles.

Krycek and Kincaid?

He shouldn't have been surprised that Krycek would go for a man; the 
double-agent didn't seem like he would care what gender his partner was, 
as long as he got what he wanted.

But Kincaid?

Still dazed, Mulder stripped to his underwear and climbed into the waiting 
bed. He closed his eyes, but his mind promptly started filling with the 
image of the two mercenaries in bed together, wrapped around each other.

His eyes flew open and he stared at the ceiling.

It wasn't any of his business, he reminded himself. He didn't have any 
claim on Krycek. On Alex.

He didn't *want* to have any claim on him.

Did he?

Mulder sighed, and settled down for a long, sleepless night.

* * * * *

Alex looked around the Mothren outpost in undisguised fascination. He'd 
seen a few alien bases in his life, but nothing like this. It looked to 
be all organic-based technology, like something out of a really bad 
b-movie.

Everyone else was clustered around the monitor -- if you could call it 
that -- where Mana was bringing up the scan reports.

Harrison was still hanging onto Ironhorse, obviously unwilling to loose 
contact with the man, as if he were afraid that the man would disappear 
if he did.

Kincaid looked a lot more relaxed than he had the night before. Alex 
grinned, and scratched at the purpling bite-mark on his neck. He felt 
relaxed, himself. Kincaid had been a wild man in bed, giving as good as 
he got, and the two of them had spent a very pleasant few hours wearing 
each other out. For once, he'd gotten through the night without thinking 
of Mulder even once.

But Mulder... Mulder looked anything *but* relaxed. He also seemed to be 
having trouble even looking in Alex's direction; his eyes just slid away, 
refusing to meet Alex's. Alex briefly wondered what was bugging the older 
man, but was distracted by the map that appeared on the large monitor, 
marked with glowing dots.

Everyone was looking up, waiting for Mana to explain the results.

"The marks indicate active alien technology," she said, her fingers still 
flying. "Most are low-level activity." She tapped a command, and large 
number of the dots disappeared. "I have eliminated Mothren bases where 
the signal indicates equipment in stand-by mode."

Mulder looked up at the depressingly large number of marks remaining. "So 
where do we start?" he asked.

"There are a wide variance in power output," Mana said. She tapped 
another command, and most of the remaining dots disappeared. "These are 
the ones that indicate heavy usage."

Alex studied the map carefully.

The remaining signals were widely spaced. One in Egypt. Another in 
Siberia, which didn't surprise him. More at both poles. One in Peru. 
Another in the Australian outback. And two in the continental United 
States.

"That one," he said, pointing to the dot in Kansas, "is a base known to 
the Consortium. I don't know about the other one, though."

Mulder frowned at the other dot, obviously bringing up a mental map. 
"Colorado," he said. "At or near Mt. Cheyenne."

Alex nodded, moving in closer. He frowned briefly when Mulder stepped 
away from him. He was going to have to have a talk with the man. 
Something was bugging Mulder, and he wasn't going to give up until he 
found out what.
 
"Well," he said. "That one is an unknown, and the easiest to get to, so I 
suggest we start there."

There was a round of nods, then Harrison spoke. "I think the three of you 
should go," he said, nodding towards Alex, Mulder and Kincaid. Alex 
frowned.

"And where will you be?" he asked suspiciously.

Harrison's arm tightened around Ironhorse's waist. "We need to see 
someone," he said. "Suzanne. And Debi and Agent Scully are still in 
danger. If Mulder will call them, they can meet us. I'm sure Debi would 
like to see her mother again. And Paul."

Mulder looked like he wanted to protest, then nodded reluctantly. "All 
right. Where should they meet you?"

"Rainier University. In Cascade, Washington."


TO BE CONTINUED

( I couldn't help myself. Really.)