Still Waters

Author: a. loquita

Summary: Sam balances being in command on Atlantis with being in a long distance relationship with a special guy in her life. (S/J established)

Spoilers: SGA Adrift, Lifeline, Reunion

AN: I wrote something called "Oasis" several weeks ago. I was sort of imagining Sam and Jack together after she takes the Atlantis post before SGA season 4 began. This fits as a sequel to my previous story "Oasis" but you honestly don't have to have read that story to get this. This could certainly be classified as stand-alone. Yet, could be fun in conjunction with "Oasis" if you were interested in S/J shippy fun :)

Rating: T

WWWWWWWWWWW

"Jack," I say, exasperated. Not noticing that I slipped because the intensity of the conversation we're having is distracting me.

"Look, Carter, I'm not happy about it either." Jack agrees with me before I start in.

I didn't even notice the blunder at first, until I see the way Sheppard looks at Jack and then back to me. It's as if I can almost see the gears going inside his head. He's wondering how Colonel Carter just got away with that one. General O'Neill not commenting on the informality. Forget commenting, the General didn't even notice. So clearly, it's not all that unusual for me to use his given name during a conversation.

After that, we wrap it up in the conference room rather quickly. The changes the IOA are suggesting be implemented can wait for the moment, Sheppard and his team have a mission scheduled in a little more than an hour and they need to gear up.

Jack came to Atlantis initially because of the Genii situation, which resolved rather quickly and without tragedy, thank goodness. Then the President suggested Jack stay on a few more days to handle more mundane issues, since he was here already.

Not that I'm complaining, but I do wonder about what was said during that conversation. How much of it was about official business and how much was about my private life. I don't ask Jack because I don't want to know the details of what Jack's new best buddy, who also happens to be my Commander-in-Chief, knows about me.

I walk back to my office thinking great, it's already begun. I am going to have to deal with Sheppard wondering and watching. Not that there's anything improper going on. Jack's had a civilian position outside my chain of command for a while now. In addition to the President being well aware of my personal relationship with Jack, Cassandra and some other people close to us are also in the loop. But I haven't been exactly forthcoming about it since coming to Atlantis.

When I first arrived it was an emergency situation, I was there to help find Atlantis and then get the city safely on a new planet. Considering the circumstances at the time, there really wasn't chance to sit down and have a friendly little catch-up chat.

Not to mention the fact that once things did settle down, Sheppard threw me saying, "In all the excitement, I never got a chance to congratulate you."

My mind went immediately to my very recent engagement. Until he clarified that he was referring to my promotion, my heart had literally stopped for a second wondering how Sheppard could've known about something so private.

Then I was offered a command position full-time. Jack and Woosley both put in a good word for me and I was flattered to even be considered. But I really didn't want the job, I didn't want to leave the comfort of the SGC, and I certainly didn't want to leave Jack. My mind often wanders back to that conversation we had.

I stood in the sunny kitchen at the cabin and said, "I don't think I can."

Jack shot a look of surprise my way. "Lacking confidence? I wouldn't have expected that from you, Carter, you're more than qualified and prepared to–"

"That's not what I meant."

"They've ordered you. You can't just turn this down and expect it won't impact your career. Besides–"

"I could leave the Air Force."

He looks almost disappointed. "For me."

"For us." I correct him.

"If you do that, I'll be insulted."

I'm more than a little bit surprised by his reaction to this. "So, you're OK with this? Me leaving?"

"I didn't say that." He pours himself more coffee and then continues. "This is great for Colonel Carter, my former teammate whom I was proud to serve with. The one I always knew would go on to do great things."

He takes a breath and adds softer, "As for my girl… now that's another thing all together. Part of me doesn't want you to go," he admits.

"Then how can you just–"

"What if it was me? What if I were ordered to Atlantis?"

I sigh because he's got me, because I would make him go. I would support him. I would stand there proud, and I'd find a way to handle it and be strong.

I say, "Reverse psychology isn't going to work on me."

"Think you're too smart for it, eh?"

"No." I step toward Jack. I put my coffee mug down and warp my arms around his middle. "Just too much in love."

It always startles him when I say it. It was kept silent for so long that I can't blame him for the shock that comes when it's out in the open now.

I continue, "Reason and logic and duty… it all will not change that fact that I won't see you for maybe months at a time. I'm not sure I can handle that."

"We'll manage."

"Jack–"

"I said we'll manage." Spoken of course in his best 'I'll make that an order if I have too' tone.

Jack runs a hand through my hair. "Besides," he says evenly. "They'll probably find Weir in a few weeks and you'll be home before you know it."

I look up at him. I don't want to debate this again. I believe she's dead and Jack believes she's alive. He's always had a great respect for her, Weir's tenacity and judgement. But it's not those things that I'm worried about.

Jack just sometimes forgets– or perhaps chooses to never think about– my experiences with Fifth and the replicated version of myself. I'm perhaps the only one who truly understands what Elizabeth has gone through. There were a few weak moments when Fifth held me captive that even I wondered if death was the better alternative.

"Look, Carter, I promise I will find ways to talk to you and see you. We will not allow this post of yours to get in the way of what we have. That will always come first."

He was never one to make grand speeches. In fact, usually a grunted, "You look hot, com're." Was typically about the deepest conversation we'd have when we spent time alone at the cabin together.

Something about Jack's conviction was what made me believe. I had my reservations still, but had enough reassurances to go. The next day, I accepted the position and began to pack for Atlantis.

Now months later, I'm here in command of the Atlantis expedition. I'm still resistant in some ways, including that I just prefer people don't know about Jack and I.

No matter how much I might insist that the relationship didn't start until after I was no longer under his command, there will always be people that wouldn't believe me. I don't want to have to deal with them questioning my judgement or leadership as a result. There's also the fact that I've known many who are stationed here but they are not friends, at least not yet.

It's also me. There's something inside me that is struggling to have confidence in myself as the commander here. In handling that, I've convinced myself that in order to be effective in leading these people I have to not be "one of the gang."

Right or wrong, I feel I need to maintain some distance and not let them see the real me. The part of me that has a deeply meaningful, fulfilling relationship with a man I miss terribly. So much so that at times that I want to relinquish my duties, just so that I can go home and sleep in his arms every night.

Jack and I talk shop for a few minutes in my office and then he rolls back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Lunch?"

I give him a small smile. We're in the quiet of my office and no one could possibly overhear us so I tease him. "Are you asking me out on a date, General?"

"Might be," he says straight-faced. "Depends on if you're gonna sock me in the jaw, or say yes."

"Yes."

He does the 'wipe the brow in relief' gag. I shake my head as if embarrassed by his juvenile behavior, but he knows by now that I find it endearing.

This physical separation has been hard on him, probably even harder than it has been on me. But Jack tries to pretend it doesn't bother him. I'm not entirely sure why he does that. Maybe it's the tough solider act, but I doubt it. I think he's doing it for me. Likely because Jack believes he has to not make this any more difficult then it already is.

I wonder if he knows the kind of power that he has over me? That asking me just once to come home would be all it would take. Jack wouldn't even have to beg. But he doesn't say a word. He is silent about his need for me yet verbal about his pride in me.

These thoughts run marathons in my head as we take the short walk to the commissary together. Once there, Jack lets me go first in line, and follows along adding extra things to my tray. It's an old habit of his.

Back at the SGC, O'Neill never believed I ate enough. I, on the other hand, know exactly how many pounds I've gained in the 11 years I've known him, mostly thanks to his habit of feeding me. But he doesn't seem to notice and still thinks I'm not keeping my strength up enough.

I've never been one to get overly worked up about body and self-image insecurities. But if I ever did, it would have vanished after things changed between us. When I became well aware that those few extra pounds do not in any way diminish how he sees me, or how enthusiastically he enjoys my body.

We find a table alone together. Jack leans over and digs his fork in my JELL-O, stealing a glob.

"Why didn't you get your own?" I ask.

"Cuz this is more fun."

"Of course it is."

Daniel's voice in my subconscious isn't all that usual, nor Teal'c, now that I hardly see them and miss them both. Among other things, I miss their support and advice on a daily basis. I often find myself thinking about situations, tactics, and decisions from their perspectives. But this time, JELL-O stealing is all about Jack being nothing more than typical Jack.

I realize that being with Jack has changed me. It's loosened me. When I first came to the SGC I would have been mortified that a male officer took food from my tray and treated me with such disrespect. I'd probably launch into some sort of feminist speech about it. After all those years being in the field with Jack and then later as his lover, he has fundamentally altered me. Now I give him a smirk, shake my head as if to say, 'you're nuts' and move on. I think the altering part has pretty much been for the good and not for the bad.

We banter a little about how I'm going to make him sleep in the guest quarters. Jack insists he'll just crawl through the ventilation shafts to get to my room nonetheless, and did I really want to do that to his poor knee? I'm implored to take pity on an old man.

"Old man?" I give him a look and decide to tease a little. "Well, if that's the case, maybe you're too old to be taking part in any strenuous activities–"

The radio in my ear interrupts with Sheppard's voice. "Colonel Carter?"

I sigh. We were just finishing up lunch anyway, I knew within minutes his team would be leaving. I'd have to go back to being on duty, and Jack and Sam would have to go back to being General O'Neill and Colonel Carter. But a few minutes more would have been nice.

"Yes," I say over the radio. "I'm on my way to the Gate room as we speak."

"Good, cuz I don't think we're goin' anywhere."

"What do you mean?"

"Dialing the gate isn't working."

I inquire, "McKay?"

"Already workin' on it."

"I'm on my way." I say into the earpiece and then turn to Jack. "You'll find something to amuse yourself with?"

"Not my favorite thing to amuse myself with." His eyes flicker down to my chest then back up. "But I'll manage."

I think of several names I'd like to call him as I simultaneously fight a smile. If it were any other man he'd be knocked out right now. But this man, he could get away with anything and I'd still kiss him silly. How does Jack do that to me?

McKay and his team deal promptly with the issues at hand, eventually getting the gate working and heading out on their mission. But of course, it's never as easy and straightforward as it should be. It's strange to me, even still, not being the one to work on something like a gate malfunction. I mostly leave it to McKay and his team of scientists. It's something I continue to feel a little out of my comfort zone about, losing the role in which I felt confident in myself. Where my solace lay.

Instead, I am the leader. I'm capable at it but just not comfortable with it. In the middle of this ordeal, I actually take a second to recognize the fact that I'm gelling well as a member of the team in this new leadership role. This thought startles me. Part of me, a large part, still views myself as a member of SG-1. I'm just here to help out, not find a new team.

Well into the night when Sheppard and the others return from the mission successfully, I realize that Jack has snuck off somewhere. I'm not too surprised to find him in my quarters. Even less surprised to find him zonked out, sound asleep.

I start to strip clothing, but Jack wakes and stops me. He loves taking his time doing it himself. Not like a kid on Christmas tearing at the wrapping paper. Much more like a collector of exquisite, priceless art that has just received the piece that he's been searching years for. Knowing all along it would finally complete his collection.

After I join him in bed, he whispers, "Major, allow me…" undressing me slowly.

I do a double take. "Major? What happened to Colonel?"

"I thought we could work out some of my fantasies and in that case… Major." Jack runs a hand across my stomach, setting on my hip. "Let me help you out of those soaking wet BDUs. You're shivering, Carter. I think we need share body heat."

"You're terrible, you know that?" I roll my eyes at him. "That's the stuff you were thinking about when we were out in the field together all those years? You were fantasizing about me and not thinking about the mission."

Jack doesn't answer. He asks instead, "Or how about my favorite?"

I reply dully, but while suppressing a chuckle. "I'm not sure I want to know."

"The one where you're the Colonel and I'm the Major." He dips his head, so that his breath tickles my ear lobe. "You order me to do whatever you want, however you want it."

"Now that one I like." I smile and sit up a little, nudging against his chest until he lay back. "So, Captain…"

"Captain?" Jack sounds insulted. "I'm at least Major material."

"Hmm." I say while settling over him. "We'll see. If you're good you might earn a promotion."

"Ah." He grins. "I'm up for the challenge."

The next morning at breakfast, Jack is sitting with Sheppard's team when I approach. My tray has wheat toast, yogurt, coffee, and fruit loops on it. This time all my choosing. What can I say except that Jack has worn off on me in strange ways?

"As I was saying," Sheppard continues with whatever he and Jack were discussing before I approached. "She's doing a good job in command here, Sir."

"Glad to hear it."

I look between them. Wondering which one is brown nosing more pathetically? Both men look innocent.

"You know," O'Neill continues casually, as though not noticing I'm there. "If you're good, she might give you a promotion."

I had just taken a sip of coffee. The unexpected echoing of words said during the previous night's lovemaking session, here in front of everyone, caught me totally off guard. I cough a few times nearly spewing coffee all over.

"Colonel?" Jack asks concerned, "You OK?"

I fix my eyes on Jack. Oh, I'm so going to kill him later. "Fine. Thank you, Sir."

The day progresses like most do, slowly. There are only rare days when the Genii attack or a team encounters the Wraith while off-world. Most days here are like this one, filled with paperwork. Halfway through my afternoon, after I've signed my name on reports and requisitions so many times my hand is cramping, I take a break.

I find Jack sitting on one of Atlantis' many balconies, with his feet dangling over the edge and a fishing line in the water. I raise an eyebrow by way of a question.

"McKay," Jack supplies the answer in one word. "Says it was Carson's and he's held onto it for sentimental sake but never uses it."

"Ah." I sit down next to him. "He let you borrow it… or did you frighten him out of it?"

Jack glances toward me and grouches, "He lent it too me." As if I'm rude to suggest otherwise. Then after a beat he admits, "I think he was more afraid that I might break something in his lab."

I smile. I know the feeling. A bored Jack O'Neill puttering in your lab is a recipe for disaster.

Jack interrupts my thoughts to tease me back, "So, busy day, huh?"

I take a deep breath before responding. "I understand now why you'd get so irritated when you headed up the SGC. Most days are pretty boring and most decisions are about how many pineapples we need to order from Earth."

"Not all the glamor you hoped for?" He questions. I don't answer but simply look out over the ocean, contemplating.

I want to say something to him about my coming home. Maybe? I'd miss this place and this opportunity. But I miss him more, sometimes so much so that it hurts like nothing I've ever known. Despite that, I can't seem to form the words.

This isn't the first time I've had an opening like this, but I never seem to work up the courage to tell Jack. I'm not exactly sure why. Perhaps I'm afraid of how he'll react– Disappointment? Confusion? Hurt? I don't want to let him down. I don't want to lose his pride in me.

"Carter?" He finally breaks through my thoughts. "Everything OK?"

"Yeah."

"Everyone here treating you well?"

"Yes."

"Are you happy here?"

This causes me to turn my head and meet his eyes. He must have sensed something in me. It's not the first time he's been incredibly intuitive.

Jack has never asked me this before now. In all of our conversations over the communications in these last months, in the days since he has arrived here on Atlantis, he's never asked. I'm not entirely sure how to answer.

"I don't know," I say.

He squints at me. "You don't know if you're happy or not? It's not really a gray area kind of thing, Carter. You either are or you aren't."

"I'm happy most of the time," I say and finally I let it out, "but I miss you."

I feel the hurt already start washing over me in waves as I think about him leaving again. I confess, "It's going to kill me when you leave tomorrow."

"Don't think about it."

"But, Jack–"

"Don't," he repeats. "We have right now, here. We will have tonight together. Live in the moment, Carter."

"How very Zen of you."

Jack smirks. Then he recovers and gets serious again. "What would help? You coming home and leaving all of this behind… I don't think you can do that. The problem is not that you hate this job."

"I like it. I'm learning and growing. When it took this, I never imagined it would be so fulfilling."

"So, you can't leave." Jack concludes for me.

A heavy sadness settles over us. Eventually, Jack asks casually, "What about me coming here?"

"You can't."

"Why not?" He raises his eyebrows, questioning. "I'm here now."

"Yes, but I mean, you can't just keep popping up here on visits that are veiled with pathetic excuses. You have an important post back home and they need you there."

"First of all, it's not pathetic, it was a good excuse." He backtracks. "Well, OK. But no one noticed but you." He casts his line again. "And second, if you'd like me to be here, I'll find a way…"

"I know you would. But I can't ask that of you."

"Why not?" He demands, I don't answer.

"Damn it, Carter, it's not a weakness in you. It's fine. You're allowed to care for someone and miss them. It's OK if sometimes that makes it hard for you to do your job. You're not perfect and I thought you gave up pretending that you were, at least to me. You gave that up the moment that this went to the next level between us."

"Jack–"

"Don't 'Jack' me." He's angry and he's being more cantankerous than normal. I understand his frustration but he knows that I don't want any special treatment. Others have handled being separated from their loved ones, why can't I? It is a weakness, no matter what he says.

"Sam," he says in the same firmness I had in my tone a moment ago. "I could be assigned here. I don't know, maybe help in some way."

"Under my command?"

He gives me a look usually reserved for the bedroom. "You liked it when we played out our little fantasy last night."

I give him a hard stare in response. "That's different."

"Why are you being stubborn about this? You say you miss me. You know this separation is making me nuts too, and here I'm offering a solution. What? You enjoy being a martyr?"

My voice drops in frustration and exhaustion. "I don't want to fight with you."

"We're not fighting." He grunts.

I resist the desire to roll my eyes. Fine, whatever he wants to call it, I still don't want to be doing THIS. I have precious little time with him and I want it to count. I want kisses and sweetness, not this. Compromise is in order.

"Look, can we talk about this later? I'll think about it, you think about it, and we'll talk later, OK?"

He knows I'm dismissing it. But he lets me. "Fine."

"I've got to get back," I say. "But I'll see you later tonight. I told them to bring dinner to my room at 1830. I'll meet you then."

He grunts something unintelligible but sounding like he's agreeing with me, and I leave.

The rest of my workday drags by. I try to stay focused on checking off my 'to do' list but my mind keeps drifting to Jack's offer. What would he do here? Would it actually work? Of course him being assigned here permanently would mean he wouldn't be under my command, despite his joking about it. He'd have to answer to someone back at home. Probably the IOA directly, or maybe the President still.

No. I stop my train of thought, I can't get caught up in this. I can't dream about what it might be like and how it would work. We can't do this. It is taking advantage and being given something that others on Atlantis under my command are not given.

Besides, I couldn't keep my little secrets anymore. Could I? It would all come out, Jack and my relationship, my weakness for him.

I sigh. That's really what this is about. I'm holding back because I'm unwilling to reveal too much about myself. I'm worried that my command will be compromised if those under me see that I can't handle a simple separation from one man. He's just a man in their eyes. He's my life, my blood, my soul, in my eyes he's everything to me. I can't seem to let go and to allow others to see that.

I wonder if it's because of all those years that I had to keep my feelings buried inside. I caged them and locked them away, fearful of anyone seeing and using it against us. Maybe it's become such habit, instinct after all these years that I can't change now. Now we have freedom and I could choose to be open about it. But you can't teach an old dog, as it where.

That evening as I walk through the corridors on my way to my quarters, Sheppard falls in step beside me.

"Colonel," he acknowledges.

"John," I say, giving him a friendly smile.

"Rumor has it that a certain General was being grumpier than usual around here this afternoon. Thought you might want to know."

I can only imagine. After our little 'not fighting' Jack probably did what he usually does when annoyed with me, or Daniel, or life in general. He stomps around, barking at people, taking it all out on anyone that happens to cross his path. I shouldn't have let it drop. I should have finished the talk if for no other reason than for the sake of the people who unfortunately encountered my charming fiance this afternoon.

I say, "Thanks for the report." In a way that John realizes I'm not particularly surprised.

He shrugs. "I don't know that I'm… reporting it so much as… telling you personally."

I stop short in the hall. "Is there something that we need to discuss?" I ask.

He looks at me, unsure of what to say next. "I don't think so. Unless you feel you need to talk to me about something?"

I fake a smile. "The General will be leaving tomorrow. I'm sure everyone will be relieved."

"Nah," John says in typical lazed tone. "The guys down on the training deck got a lot of helpful advice from him. I for one have very much enjoyed my conversations with him over these last few days. And then there's you."

I raise an eyebrow, waiting. He smiles ever so slightly as he speaks. "I have a strange feeling, Colonel, that you'll miss him quite a bit when he leaves."

I don't refuse nor do I agree. "I served under his command for a long time." John's military, he understands the bond between people who have shared a bunker together.

"Yeah, well… You're not under his command anymore. That usually changes things between people."

I fight the urge to stiffen up and to find a way to escape this conversation. If I do, it will only serve to strengthen his suspicions.

He continues, "Like for example, you don't have to call him 'Sir' but I notice that you chose to… well, most of the time."

"Habit," I say.

"Right." He nods.

"Was there anything else, John?"

"Not really. Just that you should know… if a few complaints make their way to your office, on the whole, most of us have enjoyed having the General here visiting. I hope he comes back soon."

"I'm sure the President will send him again if the situation calls for it."

"Shame he has to wait for all hell to break loose in order to come." Sheppard turns and we begin down the hall again while he talks. "Be nice if he could just come by when ever he wanted, don't you think?"

I walk beside him, weighing the chance to open up against the fear quaking through me. "Yes," I admit. It slips out of me, without realizing what I've done. I obviously must have said it like a woman in love because John looks at me knowingly and nods.

"Yes," he agrees.

After a beat, he continues. "Good to know we're on the same page and all is cool between us." We arrive at the door to my room. "Have a good night, Colonel. I'll see you at breakfast."

"Goodnight," I say, shakily.

Did what just happen really just happen? He knows. He knows that I know he knows. Yet, John didn't call me out on it, he didn't question me, ask when it started.

John didn't treat it as wrong or a dirty little secret to use against me one day. He seemed to be supportive, understanding. I honesty don't believe he was lying when he said he enjoyed conversations with Jack and was looking forward to the next visit.

It wasn't my most enjoyable conversation in the whole world. But it didn't go the way my fears would have me believe either. Maybe I am being stubborn, pretending, as Jack says. And just maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I opened up a little bit. Maybe it wouldn't be the end of me, my command here, or my life with Jack.

I enter my room and find Jack and our quiet dinner together waiting for me. I'm distant all through it and Jack allows me to be. He doesn't push me to talk, doesn't ask what's wrong. It's rare that he ever does because he knows that eventually I'll get around to it and tell him. I just need to work it out in my own head first. This is one way that this normally inpatient man is exceptionally patient with me.

We make love and I'm desperate. It's never been like this for me, even on the last night before I left Earth to take this post. I'm clawing at him, needing, nothing is enough for me.

After, he holds tight while I let go. I cry out all the missing and longing for him, all the confusion I have about the choices in my life. I cry out my insecurities and fears. I cry for mistakes I have made and the ones I will inevitably make in the future. I cry for the lives that depend on me, those under my command, Cassie, Daniel, Teal'c, and of course, Jack. I cry from the weight of responsibility. I cry with the need to have Jack here supporting me, giving me strength, feeding my heart, soul, body with his love.

"I need you," I say rough from the tears.

"I know." Jack has his fingers tangled in my long hair, combing through it. I lay sprawled across him with my head against his chest, his hands relaxing me.

Jack says softly, "Do you have any idea what that does to my ego?"

I snort. But he's apparently not kidding.

"Sam, the fact that you allow me to be with you like this, it blows me away. That I need you is pretty much a given from day one. But you needing me it's like…it's impossible for me to believe."

I affirm, "It's true."

"You have no idea the honor... Let me be here for you."

I take a deep breath, knowing I'm starting to face things and deal with them for the first time. It's a big step for me, for our relationship. "OK."

"I'll go home tomorrow and have a nice long chat with Mr. President. I'll see what I can do."

"Jack."

"Yeah?"

I say reluctantly, "Just wait a little longer. Give me a few more months to get my feet under me here. Then come."

"OK. Whatever you want, Carter. It's your call."

I lift my head to look into his eyes. "I need you but I need to do this in a way that's… good for everyone involved."

Jack's hands are no longer in my hair, instead sliding across my back. "There's good fishing here, did you know that?"

I smile. "No, I did not." His hands continue to sooth.

I finally say, "I got a report this afternoon of a very grumpy General in my city. Wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"

"Nope."

I move to sit up and face him. "Jack–"

"I hate when we fight," he says flatly, as an explanation or maybe an apology.

"I thought it wasn't a fight?"

"Whatever it was. It kills me. I just want this, with you." Sliding his hands up my sides and eventually cupping my cheeks, he says, "Love you."

I smile and start to give in again.

"Com're," he says.

Jack does something that only he would know to do. He tugs me out of bed and I trail along after him. In the bathroom he fills the bathtub with hot water, climbs in and I follow. He cuddles me to his chest, holding tight in the over-heated water and foam of bubbles. He knows this is what relaxes me even in my worst moments of fear, pain, or confusion.

I have been in relationships but never like this one. The fact that I share this ritual with him– my bath time, my relaxation, my space, it is just one of many examples of how being with him is different. I have never opened up and shared everything with someone. Never cried openly in front of any other man. I have allowed Jack to see even the quiet corners of myself without hesitation, without fear of how it may change the way he sees me. This is unconditional love.

We relax for a while, just being comfortable with each other in the bath water. Sometimes this becomes sex but sometimes not. It's one more way for us to be close. It shuts out the world and reduces it to just the two of us, alone, together, warm, happy.

Later as I shave my legs, Jack lounges his head back at the opposite end of the tub lazily.

"What?" He says in response to my amused look. "I like watching."

"This? Me shaving my legs?" I shake my head. "You're nuts."

"I'm obsessed." He corrects. "With every little part of your body down to your leg hair."

"I repeat, you're nuts."

I start on the other calf, recalling something about my past I've probably never told him.

"When I was in high school I only shaved my legs up to here." I stop at my knee. "Because there was this saying that a girl only shaved as far as she was willing to let a boy's hand go. I didn't want to get a reputation."

"No, we wouldn't want that." Jack agrees, with a bit of a mischievous grin forming. He sits up and runs a hand up from my ankle to my knee, where he stops. "And now?"

I drag the razor up the inside of my thigh.

Jack says smiling, "That's my girl." He takes the razor, puts it aside, and leans in for a kiss.

A few minutes later, I sigh with the pleasure he's creating with his kisses on my neck and his hands on my skin. Jack comes up for air for a second and says, "Just promise me something."

"Anything," I say shamelessly. Anything at all to make sure he doesn't stop doing what he's doing.

"I'm going to leave tomorrow but I'll be back." Jack's hands continue to move across my wet skin as he talks. "Promise me while I'm gone that you'll stop at the knees."

"Promise." I grin and kiss him.

The next morning, I'm standing in my office looking down at the Gate room. Jack has a bag in one hand and the other gives me a little wave. It's not good-bye. It's just "until next time." Then he steps through the simmering event horizon.

I'll be the strong and capable leader they need. And if, or when, I decide that my source of strength has been away too long, maybe I call in that favor. Maybe Atlantis will need to hire a full-time fisherman so our kitchen chefs can have fresh fish. But for now it's until next time.