It took him probably four hard weeks to settle in, to really feel like he was where he belonged, but he figured, all things considered, that four weeks was pretty quick. There were currently nine kids he and the Academy had pulled for this special program but he was told that there could be more. Because they were read into the Stargate program, though, the higher ups wanted to be sure before actually inviting the cadets into the program.

He was working with seniors, for which he was grateful, but they still seemed impossibly young. He didn't even remember being that young, not really. He had vague memories of being youngish but never, ever that wet behind the ears.

And they were whip-smart, all of them. Carters and Daniels, each one, as much as they were tacticians like him. The best of both worlds. The program was lucky, training them up like this. Not that Jack didn't think the program would still recruit civilians, he was sure they'd have to if they wanted to keep getting the best and the brightest – not everyone could be enticed by the military. But these kids, he had to admit, were pretty damned amazing.

But they were still kids and they still had a lot to learn. And he was still a hard-nosed Colonel. Who apparently had a reputation. They were all a little scared of him, he could tell. And a little in awe of him once they'd heard of some of the things he'd done alongside SG-1 over the years.

What was most surprising to him wasn't that the kids were actually good, though, it was that he enjoyed instructing them. He felt... useful. He felt vital again. He didn't feel like he was going to get anybody killed because damn if the stakes weren't a helluva lot lower. Not that he didn't feel pressure to train them right – he did. But there weren't any Goa'uld right around the corner that were going to snatch them up while he was preoccupied with whatever went on in his head these days. And there wasn't a chance he was going to get them killed or be made to kill them by some megalomaniacal snake-head. And he damn-sure wasn't going to be kidnapped and tortured while instructing these kids on how to survive on a planet halfway across the galaxy.

As a matter of fact, the biggest worry he had was how many rations to pack on a field trip to the alpha-site next week. Well, the biggest professional worry, anyway.

He had some personal worries. Like... it had been four weeks and he still hadn't been able to be intimate with Sam. He wanted to be. God, she made him feel more like a man than any woman had in a damn long time and he wanted her, but something inside him made it still feel wrong to want her that way. It was strange to know that the programming he received at the hands of Astarte was pure bullshit and yet still believe it to some extent. Damned strange.

Sam had tried to talk to him about it a week ago but he found it too embarrassing to talk about – about how he could get erections but that he felt guilty about them. And how he did touch himself but that he felt guilty about that too. And how he felt pleasure but it didn't feel like it used to and how he hadn't made himself come, not since long before his stint on '289. Hell, not since before Edora had he been responsible for his own orgasm.

And it had been a lot longer than that since he'd spoken frankly with a woman about sex or sexuality. Not since his marriage to Sara had he even had to consider it. And Sara had been... not prudish exactly, because she'd been a sexual woman, she just hadn't been the kind to talk about it, really. Not that they never had, just that it hadn't been something that had come up regularly.

So when Sam had tried to broach the subject with him, he'd clammed up rather quickly. She'd look embarrassed more to be shut down than she did to have brought the subject up in the first place and for that he'd felt bad. He wanted her to feel like she could talk to him about anything. And he didn't really have a problem talking about sex. He just had a problem talking about the fact that he couldn't seem to have any with her right now.

Jack picked up a handful of files from his desk and turned off the light in his office. He made his way down the hall, out of the building and across the parking lot to his truck. He tossed the files across the bench seat and climbed in. He had to go over those files tonight so talking to Sam about... stuff... wasn't going to happen, but he knew it needed to happen soon. She wasn't going to wait forever. She shouldn't have to wait forever.

He thought about asking a healthy, vibrant, sexual woman to not have sex for a prolonged period of time in a committed relationship and rolled his eyes. How long did he think he could keep that up? He knew Sam cared about him, but eventually she was going to want the full package, right? And he wanted to give it to her, he really did. He wanted her. He could feel the desire for her, felt it regularly. He got hard and wanting for her. He just also got the guilt and uneasiness, too.

He thought, briefly, about MacKenzie and wondered if he shouldn't talk to someone about the programming that had been done to him. A sex therapist maybe? But as quickly as the thought came he tamped it back down. He wasn't carrying this particular issue off to anyone. It was bad enough he had to deal with it, he wasn't sharing it with anyone else. But... was it fair to Sam to make her wait it out? He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove. No, it wasn't fair. And no he couldn't talk to a therapist of any kind. Not about the sex stuff. Not again. He'd done it once to save his marriage and it had barely worked. He and Sara had barely made it through those months after he returned from Iraq and he would bet money that it wasn't his time with the sex therapist that saved his marriage. Though, if he was being honest, the time with the therapist saved his sex life. It taught him how to deal with what happened to him and how his body reacted to what happened to him. But this... as alike as this was, it was – and the fallout was – completely different.

He wasn't surprised to find his house dark when he arrived. Sam wasn't there as often as she was there. Sometimes she was at her place, sometimes she was at the mountain. He still had to invite her over and she'd been at the mountain the night before which meant he hadn't gotten to issue an invitation for this particular evening.

He thought about calling her. He did have work to do, but he could do work with her in the house. He liked her company. But was it fair to invite her over then ignore her in favor of work to be done? She'd understand. But were they there yet? Would she simply find something to entertain herself or did she still expect him to entertain her?

Truth be told, Jack hated this part of a relationship. It would be so much easier if they lived together. This dating part was tough. He didn't always know where all the pieces went. And he was crap at taking her out. He'd much rather stay in with her. But, as it happened, she was pretty keen on staying in, too. She liked putting on yoga pants and a t-shirt and curling up on the couch with him. She liked throwing on jeans and a work shirt and jumping into whatever project needed to be done. She looked great in whatever she put on to go out to dinner – they'd done that a few times. But he preferred her dressed down, tousled, ready to be touched.

But, easier though it may be, the living together, there wasn't a shot in hell they were ready for that. Living together implied things his body couldn't deliver on. Not yet. And he wasn't going to write a check he couldn't cash. So, he'd just carry on with the dating. And he'd hope that she was okay with spending an evening with him even if he had work to do. He had to see her, had to spend some time with her. He needed her around. He picked up the phone and dialed her number.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam, while looking down at the cuffs on her jacket, ran smack dab into the solid wall of Daniel's chest as she walked out of the ladies locker room.

He steadied her with his hands on her upper arms. "Good, Sam, I was looking for you."

"You found me," she said, slightly wary, still of him, even all these weeks after his outburst after the mission on Trusk had gone bad. In truth, they hadn't really spoken since then, except in a professional context. They'd spoken to one another on missions – she'd commanded a three-manned SG-1 on a couple of routine exploratory missions, first contacts were on hold until they had a fourth, likely a colonel – and in her lab or his going over artifacts or devices found off world.

"I wanted to apologize."

"Seems like you've been doing a lot of that," she said.

He had the good graces to look chagrined. "Yeah."

She sighed. "Let's just be done, okay?"

His face fell. "Done... being friends?"

She reached out and put a hand on his chest. "Done being upset. You said things – a lot of things – that were pretty crappy, some because you put your nose in where it didn't belong and some because you were being an ass. But if you're apologizing, you know what you did was wrong, right?"

He nodded.

"So let's just be... done. I'm tired of being angry at you. And I'm sure you're tired of being wary of me."

"I am," he said, sounding relieved.

"Okay."

Daniel pulled Sam into a tight hug. She returned it, though not as tightly and heartfetly as she once would have. She might want their arguing to be over and done with, but she felt disconnected from him and it would take time to rebuild that trust. Daniel, for his part, didn't seem to notice. And she thought that seemed right, after the way he'd been acting over the last several months.

Her cell phone rang in her purse and she pulled back out of Daniel's embrace. She smiled at him apologetically and pulled the device from her purse. She saw Jack's number and couldn't help the genuine smile that spread across her face. She answered with a soft, warm, "Hello." It was a voice she knew she reserved for him and she caught the interest on Daniel's face.

"Hey," Jack said sounding slightly nervous. "Listen. I've got some work to do tonight, but I wanted to know if you'd come over anyway."

He wanted her to come over when he had work to do? Why? Not that she was opposed, necessarily, but what was she supposed to do? Sit there and watch him work? She must have hesitated too long.

"You don't have to," he said, but he sounded disappointed.

"No," she said quickly, realizing how much she wanted to be with him, spend the night with him, wake up the next morning with him. "I'll come."

She could hear the smile in his voice when he said, "Good," in that soft, gentle way he had that always surprised her so much.

"I'll see you in about an hour," she told him. "I'll bring dinner."

He hummed his pleasure. She sure did love making him happy, and he was pretty damn easy to make happy. "See you soon."

They disconnected.

"So... you and Jack..." Daniel said.

"Yes," Sam said, immediately on the defensive, unsure where he was going with his statement after his little outburst a month before.

"I'm glad that worked out for you two."

She lowered her metaphorical hackles. "Me too." She didn't tell him, couldn't tell him all that hadn't worked out yet. That was conversation better suited to a girlfriend anyway, if she was going to tell anyone. And while she'd had plenty of conversations with Janet since she and Jack had been back together she hadn't broken his confidence on how things were – or weren't – in the bedroom. Janet hadn't asked so Sam hadn't had to lie or omit. Sam didn't know what Janet assumed, and that was fine, as far as she was concerned. It was private. Personal. And she didn't feel much like laying Jack's personal issues out for someone else to examine when Jack wasn't comfortable doing the same. Hell, he couldn't even really talk to her about it.

Sam and Daniel said their goodbyes and Sam made her way to the surface, then home for an overnight bag, then to a Thai restaurant for take out and then, finally, to Jack's house. He greeted her at the door and divested her of the bag of food and pressed a heated kiss to her lips, bags haging from each of their fingers, one hand each gripping the other's hip tightly.

"Let's eat," he said against her lips.

"Yes, let's," she murmured, not yet ready to separate from him completely. She swiped her tongue over his upper lip and he claimed her mouth again with a growl. Her overnight back thumped to the floor and she wound her arm around his neck holding him to her. He was hindered by the food he still held in one hand, but he kneaded her hip hungrily with the one hand he had on her body, then he slid that hand under her shirt and up her back, up up to the smooth skin of her shoulder blade. He held her against him so he could ravage her mouth. Moments later she pulled back from him, her breath coming in sharp pants, his head followed hers, lips still seeking hers, and she chuckled sultrily. "That was some hello." She wondered how much of his ardor was him making up for his inability to make love to her.

"That one was your fault."

"I'll gladly take the blame."

His hand slid down her back, out from under her shirt, and down to her ass where he gave one cheek a squeeze. "Now, let's eat."

"All right," she said with a grin.

When he turned she let her eyes fall to his backside. She enjoyed the view all the way into the kitchen. She might not be getting laid but that didn't mean she was a nun about it. He wasn't particularly modest anyway. Since that first time when he'd come into the kitchen in the towel, she'd encountered him thusly many more times since and it was driving her crazy to see him that way and not get to have him. But she was a patient woman, and she understood exactly what the holdup was so she was absolutely not going to push. She was going to let him take the sexual aspect of their relationship at his own pace. She just wished she knew what she could do to help.

She considered talking to a professional about what she should be doing. Her thoughts went back to Janet. Maybe she should mention what was going on with Jack and get Janet's professional opinion about how to proceed. But, Janet wasn't really that kind of doctor and maybe that was sharing too much information with someone he was too close to. Maybe she needed a doctor a little further removed from the situation.

Maybe she could just try some books on the subject. But most books she'd come across dealt with rape from a female's perspective and definitely didn't deal with the kind of anti-pleasure conditioning Jack had received. She felt like they were in this alone, completely, in uncharted waters. She sighed.

He turned and looked at her curiously. "What?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, not wanting to spoil the moment they'd had in his entryway with the direction her thoughts had taken. She gave him a brilliant smile that she knew lit her eyes.

He relaxed visibly and turned back to the food with a smile on his face. "Okay, then. Let's eat."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack loaded the last of the dishes into the dishwasher and closed the machine. Sam shoved the take out containers into the trash and they were both done with the cleanup at the same time.

"So," she said clapping her hands together gently, "you've got work to do tonight?"

"A few more evals from the mock mission today, yeah."

"Why don't you get started on that? I'll make us some iced tea and then I'll join you. I've got some protocols I can start writing for a new gate diagnostic the General wants."

"You brought your laptop?" He hadn't expected her to come armed for work, though he didn't really know what he expected her to do while he was working. She wasn't really a television watcher. But he had seen her pick up a book from time to time. Maybe he'd expected her to relax in the bath? But... no... not really her style either. He didn't think. He frowned.

"What?" She asked rather than answer his question.

"Nothing. It's just... I guess I didn't know what exactly I expected you to do tonight while I worked."

She laughed. "I'm just glad you wanted my company even though you had stuff to do."

He reached out and snagged one of her belt loops, pulling her to him. She came on a stumble and steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders. "Sam, I always want your company."

"Jack," she scoffed, dropping her eyes, "I know I wanted this more than you. You don't have to say-"

"Hey," he said lifting her chin with his finger, "you may have come around to this first, but it's not fair to say you want it more." In the week they spent together before being split up he went from being interested in her to being invested in her. In the time they were apart he went from invested to sublimated desire. That sublimate desire, once released, bloomed over the course of the past month into something strong and resilient that he hadn't felt since he'd put a ring on a woman's finger. So, to say she wanted it more was, well, just not true. He watched her eyes fill with tears. "Please don't cry," he pleaded softly. Sam Carter's tears had a way of doing him in, and that was before he had soft, warm feelings for her.

She bit her lip and blinked rapidly, and sure enough stemmed the tears. "I didn't think."

"I can tell what you didn't think." He took her face between his hands. "But let me tell you right now, so we can clear this up once and for all; you told me once that you thought you loved me."

She nodded, still biting her lip.

It made his insides tighten. "Well, I do love you."

She had to have known it was coming, and still, she gasped. "I love you, too."

He threaded his fingers into her hair. "I know."

"You're not going to tell me that I can't or that I don't know you well enough or that there's something wrong with you?"

He shook his head. "Would it do any good if I did?"

She shook her head slowly and gave him a wry smile. "No."

"Then no."

She leaned forward and kissed him. He could taste the spicy basil sauce from her dinner, but underneath that he could taste her. When she pulled away from him she looked flushed and happy. "You've got work to do."

"So we're okay here?"

"Yeah, we're okay."

"Good." He pressed one more quick kiss to her lips, just because he couldn't not and then pulled away from her completely. It instantly felt wrong to be disconnected from her, but it would be hard to do his paperwork with his hands attached to her skin. It made him look forward to going to bed with her, to wrapping her up in his arms, to the way she threw her leg over his and snugged up against his side, her breasts pressed against him, her hand on his chest, her head on his shoulder.

He knew she wasn't naturally a close sleeper, that she did it for him, but he liked it, liked the feel of her body next to his, the rhythmic cadence of her breathing against his skin. He liked the way her hand smoothed against his chest when she felt him tense up in his sleep and the way she woke him when he was having a nightmare. He liked the way she was careful to avoid being hurt. He liked that after that first time how he hadn't hurt her at all.

He'd been making inroads in his files for a few minutes when a glass of iced tea appeared on the table next to him. He looked up to find she'd changed into yoga pants and a t-shirt, he could tell she'd taken off her bra. She slid onto one of the chairs at the table and set down her laptop and her own glass of tea and opened the computer and caught his eye with a smile. He smiled back. Soon, they were both working.

A couple of hours passed with the sound of his pen pushing across the page and her fingers click-clacking on the keys of her computer, the occasional soft curse issuing from her lips when something didn't go quite right. That never failed to make him smile because she was always so professional at work that he was surprised the first time he'd heard her whisper motherfucker at her computer. He'd chuckled and peered at her over his reading glasses, she was so intent on the screen that she hadn't even noticed his scrutiny. That had just made him smile harder.

Finally, he finished his paperwork and pushed the files across the table and away from him. She looked up from her work almost immediately. "Are you done?"

"Yep. You?"

"I could be done."

"I'm going to take a shower, you can have a few more minutes."

"Five minutes," she said, after a moment of internal debate, as if negotiating with him.

He chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

He had his shower and when he came out into the bedroom, she was there, turning the bed down. "You weren't kidding about five minutes," he said, wandering to his dresser.

"No, but I had incentive. House is locked up."

"Thanks." He pulled a pair of jockey shorts out of the dresser and pulled them on under the towel that was swathed around his hips. She looked at him with a hunger in her eyes that was unmistakeable. He felt it to his core. He felt immediately aroused and then immediately guilty for not being able to give her what she obviously wanted, what she needed, despite being physically able. She'd be able to tell his body was ready, even if his mind wasn't.

When he turned around, though, her eyes didn't stray to the front of his underwear, they stayed chest high or higher and then they were back on the bed. Huh. He wondered if that was self-preservation kicking in or if she was trying to be polite. Not that it mattered. When she cozied up to him in bed, she'd feel it.

He crawled into bed. She did, too. He opened his arm, inviting her into his side, she came willingly and snuggled up against him. Her leg curled over his, her thigh pulled up to his groin and she froze, instantly, when she encountered his obvious erection.

Damn it, he wasn't going to apologize. Should he apologize since he wasn't going to use it? Fuck all, what was protocol here?

She shifted her leg away from it and relaxed against him. He relaxed too, not realizing he'd tensed up as well when she'd encountered it. She'd probably felt his tension and known he wasn't planning to do anything about it. Damn it all if that didn't make him feel like less of a man. "Sam-"

"Shhh..." she said, rubbing her hand over his bare chest. "Let's just go to sleep."

He nodded and reached over and turned out the light.