For centuries Atlantis had stood alone, empty and devoid of life. When these foreign guests, strange and yet so reminiscent of her former residents, had first stepped through her Stargate, Atlantis had grudgingly given up her secrets; just enough to keep them alive. As much as she resented these imposters who laid claim to her legacy, she had been lonely for far too long. But there was never any doubt who was in charge. These were her walls, her halls, her rooms. She quietly watched, listening, observing these young creatures as they began to carve their place in the Pegasus galaxy.

The strangers surprised her. They were kind, compassionate. They struggled, amongst themselves at times, and always against the many enemies they faced. Yet these people remained pure of heart, and as time passed Atlantis accepted them into her heart.

She protected them, gave them hope when they believed all to be lost. But it was not without loss; their commander, kind and yet ruthless when it came to protecting her own, was lost. The loyalty Doctor Weir had garnered was palpable, and it lingered long after she vanished. When a new leader came to take her place, the whole city anticipated conflict, a coup between power mongers. But none came.

Colonel Carter was an unassuming leader. She arrived keenly aware of the situation she was walking into, knew exactly what she would face. The woman demanded nothing. Slowly, through firm, yet gentle guidance, she earned the respect and loyalty of her people in her own right. She was very like Dr. Weir, but the two women were not the same. This Carter never pretended to be. She led in her own way, and her people followed, warily at first, and then willingly, trustingly.

For a while, all seemed at peace. But it couldn't last. Colonel Carter went through the gate, and she did not return. In her place came a small man, rigid and blusterous. He had been in the city before, and Atlantis acutely remembered his fear in the shadow of the Wraith cruisers that had hovered above the planet. His panic would have doomed them all; but for Carter's adamant countermands, they would have been destroyed.

The people who called Atlantis home did not trust him, and neither did the city herself. She shared in the negative regard they afforded their newest commander, embittered by the manner in which the Colonel had been dismissed.

Richard Woolsey believed Atlantis to be a simple machine, non-sentient and unfeeling. Atlantis was only too willing to perpetuate that belief. She helped him along his misconceptions; with automated operations, doors closed on him unexpectedly, lights that turned off when he was too long immobile—and would only resume their brilliance when he left the room.

When he addressed the malfunctions to the technicians under his newly tendered command, they assured him they would look into it, but as soon as he went on his way they merely smiled knowingly. They understood her, respectfully, and sensed the intent behind the reported glitches. Once they ran their basic diagnostics, and found nothing amiss, they let her be.

It could be that this Woolsey would prove himself yet; as both a man and leader. But for now, Atlantis would entertain herself by keeping the man on his toes.

Jack wanted Sam home. But he hadn't wanted it like this. His fingers tenderly passed over her palm, tracing lightly over the four crescent bruises embedded under her skin. Left there by fingernails of a tightly clenched fist, it was the only lasting indication that she was bothered by her abrupt dismissal from command.

Glancing down at the top of her blonde head, remorse cloyed at him. She was sleeping now, curled up against him with her head pillowed on his shoulder. It was hard to believe that merely an hour ago she had been crying. Sam was the least overly-emotional woman Jack had ever met, but the overwhelming frustration and sense of failure had been too much. She'd made it home, and dumped her duffel inside the front door. He'd been waiting on the couch, and as soon as her eyes locked on him her face had crumpled, tears pouring from her in an anguished torrent.

His reaction had been immediate. The instinct to comfort had overwhelmed all conscious thought, and the next thing he knew she'd been in his arm, clinging to him for dear life.

That was when his guilt had reared its ugly head. He knew the IOA's decision; he hadn't agreed with it, but he couldn't deny he was glad she was home. It was this happiness that weighed on him as she sobbed.

When her anguish had relented, and she could speak once more, they'd eschewed the indoors in favor of moving to the roof. Under the open sky, by light of the stars the last of her sobs had calmed. Together, they'd wrapped up under a blanket and lay staring at the pinpricks of light overhead.

With Sam now sleeping, exhausted by the day's events, Jack had time to think. While on SG-1, he had found more peace off world than he did here in Colorado. It was as if those night skies felt more like home than Earth did. He didn't consider it much then, but it was only when he'd left SG-1, left the SGC altogether that Earth had begun to feel like home again. He didn't make the connection until Sam went to Atlantis and took that sense of belonging with her.

Once she left Jack was an alien on his own planet once more. The stars turned cold and lifeless, to the point he could barely stand to look at them. It was then that he realized. It wasn't the stars that felt like home. It wasn't the planet he planted his boots on. It was her. It always had been. Those SG-1 years had seen Captain then Major Carter looking at those stars right alongside him. Those short months she had been in Nevada, and he in DC, they'd met somewhere in the middle and he couldn't have been happier.

Now she was with him again. Jack knew it was only temporary: the Hammond was nearing completion and as soon as it was mission ready Sam would be on it. But for now it was only she and him; the rest could wait. For now, so long as Sam was here, he would simply cherish the warmth she provided.

For now, with Sam beside him once more, he was home.