He knew she was dead on her feet. Jack had known Sam long enough to read her with particular accuracy and the effects of this last command were written all over her.

It had been 3 months at Atlantis, Sam was relegated to the command for 3 months since

Woolsey had no clue as to what was required in the situation they found themselves in and rather than risk him running the city aground in a panic, Sam had been sent to lend her expertise and experience to the Johnny-come-lately commander.

It hadn't been easy. The Wraith had regrouped, renewed their focus and retaliated. It had taken everything but it had worked. Atlantis, due to the combined efforts of that team, Woolsey and Sam, was back on solid footing, and safe, for the moment.

While she took a shower, Jack made Sam a sandwich. He knew she wouldn't want to eat it but Jack also knew that Sam would, if he watched her to make sure she did. Sam was just getting out of the shower, towel around her body when Jack walked in. Their eyes connected and a faint smile appeared on her lips, another sign of how tired she was and Jack was reminded that it had been three months.

Three months of reminding himself of how good Sam was at her job; of how many times she had pulled them out of near death situations. Three months of reminding himself that it had been years since he had been out on the field with her to watch her six, and she had always made it back – alive. Three months of reading what she didn't write in her reports, in between the lines of procedure and protocol, and understanding what wasn't put on paper – that she was so close to the edge that the lines were starting to blur. Three months of telling himself she'd be fine, over and over again, in order to keep his sanity.

Now Sam was standing in front of him, drying her hair as she stood in front of the mirror in their bedroom, and the sanity Jack had been desperately holding on to, suddenly began to slip from his grasp.

Jack walked over to Sam, placing the sandwich on the dresser, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror as he stood behind her. Jack's hands moved to Sam's shoulders, slowly tracing downwards. Although she didn't stop him, Sam didn't respond the way she usually would have, but simply stopped the task of drying her hair; another sign to Jack that the Colonel was more tired than she'd been in long time, but he didn't stop. He'd spent three months of wishing Sam was back, longing to touch her again. So the fact that she was tired didn't seem to be enough to derail his intention, the guilt he may have normally experienced, being no competition for the need he now felt that he had to have her, because tonight Sam was here – and it had been three months.

Jack bent to Sam's neck and she sighed and tilted her head to give him access. Pulling the towel from her grasp, Jack allowed it to fall to the ground and his hands took the path along Sam's body that they knew too well, but had been denied for too long. Sam put more of her weight against Jack and allowed him to have his way – sensing his need. Jack's every nerve recognizing that his wife was home and desperately needed to connect with her, giving him proof beyond what his eyes saw; that she was safely his again.

His hands needed to explore his woman's body again, his mouth needed to taste her again, his body needed to be one with hers again. Tomorrow he would give her tender words and soft touches, but not tonight. Tonight it was just about the physical, the connection. Tonight it was just about the sex because his need was raw and would only be assuaged by her healing touch.

Sam didn't even realize when they had moved to the bed; she was really too tired but realized that she needed this too. The press of Jack's body into hers, almost pushing out the stress and the burden she had carried for the last three months. Sam submitted to Jack, glad that she could release herself in this safe place, where she could freely give over, rather than bracing against submission, constantly presenting the Colonel instead of the woman, where every shadow was a threat.

In the aftermath Sam rested in the crook of Jack's arm, the weariness of the last three months and the physicality of sex with her husband having her completely spent; giving up what she didn't even realize that she still had. Hearing Jack's breathing, Sam knew he wasn't asleep and barely whispered his name: "Jack."

"I've got you Sam." He responded quickly and smoothly as he pulled her closer, squeezing her a little as he did so, Jack reassured Sam again.

"I've got you."

Jack held Sam a little tighter that was absolutely comfortable but his words were just as much of a reassurance to him as it was for Sam.

Jack had finally gotten Sam back.

It had been three months.

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