A/N - Conclusion of the tag to Ethon. Rated M.

Apprehension, Part 3

The last rays of the late afternoon sun reflected off the snow outside, filtering into the room and bathing it a dim, blue light. Sam walked in without turning on the lamp, finding that the dark space fit her mood. Slowly, she removed her jacket and laid it across the chair next to the bed. She then moved her hands to her head and began pulling out the pins that kept her hat in place, finally freeing it so she could set it on top of the dresser. She carefully began unfastening the buttons of her blouse, but as the last one came loose, she paused for a moment, her mind drifting back to the events of the last few hours.

She'd held it together at the memorial service somehow. The fact that Jack had been there had helped. Even though they were careful to avoid any obvious displays of affection, he'd stood next to her, occasionally letting his hand graze hers. Now, though, in the stillness of their bedroom, she could feel her resolve crumbling. She grasped the dresser and bowed her head.

Jack's voice broke her reverie. "Sam?"

She looked up into the mirror to find him walking into the bedroom behind her, his jacket off and tie undone. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. She placed her arms over his, noticing for the first time how small and pale her hands appeared next to his.

She leaned back into his embrace. "He was only 45, Jack," she said, her voice quiet in the still room. "His wife, those kids..."

She'd admired Lionel Pendergast from the beginning. He was honest and forthright, kind and brave. She had only worked with him a few times, but on each occasion, she'd been impressed, and he had clearly earned the respect of his crew.

She turned in his arms and let him draw her in, so she could bury her face in his shoulder. "It was just so senseless," she continued, her voice hoarse. Closing her eyes, she thought back to the moments before the Ori weapon had fired on the Prometheus.

She'd never seen it coming. Although the weapon had been designed by a strange alien race, the trigger had been pulled by ordinary humans, with the same petty motivations - religion, politics, turf - that were so common here on Earth. She'd always accepted that they might die in battle, but since she'd joined the Stargate program, she'd assumed that it would be at the hands of unfamiliar and powerful aliens, like the Goa'uld or the Ori. She'd never considered that she and those she cared about could be taken down by something so mundane as yet another power hungry dictator.

"It's a risk we all take, Sam," Jack whispered into her hair, as though reading her mind.

He held her for a moment longer, then pulled back to kiss her tenderly. But she responded with an unexpected passion, slipping her tongue past his lips, her hands scrambling to pull off his tie and shirt and moving quickly to the fly of his pants. It didn't take him long to catch up to her, and within seconds, what was left of her dress blues joined his in a pile on the floor.

Completely naked now, she pressed the full length of her body to him, as their tongues danced and their hands roamed over increasingly sensitized flesh. God, she needed to feel him, to remind herself that they were still here, that even after all the tough years and dangerous missions and long separation, they still had each other. She needed his strength, to feel him real, and solid, and alive. And she needed to know that she was alive herself.

Even though she was certain the light that had engulfed her on the ship was the one that would take her life, it had actually saved it, depositing her in the middle of a field in Caledonian territory, where she'd joined the other refugees from Earth as they looked skyward toward the explosion that took the lives of Colonel Lionel Pendergast and 38 others.

Gently, Jack laid her back on their bed, situating himself between her legs and letting his heavy frame push her into the mattress. She relished his weight, covering her, protecting her. She ran her hands down his spine, as he kissed the corner of her mouth, then along her jawline, down the length of her neck, and finally to her breasts.

After a moment, he began to move further south, but she stopped him and brought him back up the length of her body, anxious to have him inside her. Slipping a finger between her folds and finding her ready, he nudged her thighs further apart and entered her in one long, sensuous movement. She let out a long sigh.

She was reminded then of how right this was, in every single way. As what little light was left in the room began to fade, he continued to make love to her slowly, carefully, and Sam tried to imprint on her mind everything about the way they moved together.

She gave a passing thought to the time they had wasted trying to ignore their feelings - the first years, where she was in awe and more than just a little afraid of him; then the long, lonely years of their denial where any inadvertent touch or meaningful glance left her breathless; and finally, to the painful year they spent apart, trying to believe they could somehow exist without one another. How asinine that had been, when it was so clear to her now that she needed him the way she needed oxygen. And the idea that he could be taken from her, or she from him, in an instant...

"Sam," he finally whispered in her ear, drawing her name out in a manner she knew was as much plea as prayer. She'd been distracted and wasn't close yet, but he knew how to work her, and almost instantly she felt the low, sweet pang of desire she'd had since the beginning building to an almost unbearable tension in her core. Unable to resist any longer, she gave herself up to him completely and just let go.

She cried out as she came, Jack moaning his release at almost the same time, and for just a moment she was able to forget everything but the exquisite sensation of being married to him in every sense of the word.

She wasn't certain when she'd started crying, but Jack was already propped up on his elbows above her, kissing her face and wiping away the wetness with the pads of his thumbs when she noticed.

"What is it?" he asked softly, staring intently into her face.

She paused for a moment before meeting his eyes. "Do you ever think our luck is going to run out? That one day, it'll be one of us...?"

"Don't, Sam." He shook his head gently. "Don't do this."

"It just feels more real to me now, Jack."

He gazed down at her, continuing to brush his thumbs over her cheeks. "I know," he said finally, before leaning down to softly kiss her lips.

And she believed he did.

TBC...

A/N - I found the destruction of the Prometheus far more shocking than both Daniel's ascension or Janet's death (admittedly in part because I was spoiled with respect to the latter two). Nonetheless, I was caught completely off guard by the scene of Pendergast accepting the inevitable right before the ship exploded. It seemed to me that our characters would feel the same, and that was what I was hoping to capture here.

More to come on this series, so stay tuned. Thanks as always for reading (and reviewing)!