12.

Jim Reynolds arrived at her house around eight that evening. A tall, burley man with a shock of red hair and blue eyes, his hands full of blueprints and architectural drawings, he came barreling through the door as she opened it, cheerfully acknowledging her greeting.

"Hey, Sam. Jack here yet?"

She let him in the house and took his coat, putting it on a set of antique hooks built into the wall by the door. "He had a report to finish for Hammond. He said he'd be by around 8:30. Thanks for coming and thanks for doing this. I--"

He grinned and cut her off. " Not a problem. Looking forward to it. I haven't worked on a historical renovation in a while. I like to keep my hand in and work like this helps keep me up to date and board-certified."

He changed the subject, clearly interested in her project and ready to start work. "And knowing Jack and reports, he'll probably show around ten at the earliest so no point in waiting. Let's take a look at -- whoah." He stared at the entrance to the living room. "Interesting color choice."

She grimaced. "Yeah. It's unique. Wait until you see the kitchen."

He grinned. "Oh, definitely looking forward to it."

She led him toward the back of the house. "Seriously, Jim, it's in pretty bad shape."

"Not surprising. But if there are no structural problems, interior work will be easy enough to – wow." He stopped short at the entrance to the kitchen, staring.

She grimaced, looking around at the orange walls and 30-odd year old avocado appliances, what there were of them. "Yeah, I know. I think it's one step past 'needs help'."

He shook his head. "No, Sam. That's not what I meant. This room has great bones. The blueprints don't do it justice."

"You can say that again." She started to comment further on the décor, but Jim was already walking around, inspecting the room. He focused first on the old cast iron stove sitting to the left of the current refrigerator location. "This is original; wood burning. It's in good shape. I'd keep it. It's a classic and can be refinished."

"I – all right."

He wandered the room, inspecting everything structural. "These cabinets are original; look at the glass insets." He took out a knife from his pocket and scraped at the paint, revealing the wood underneath. "Cherry. Hayes must have imported it from the East. You have to keep these as well. They just need refinishing and we can take out this portion and move them over there to make room for the oven." He moved through the room. "Soap-stone sink, must have cost a fortune even in 1880. Stained, but again, that can be fixed. And – yeah, I thought so." He pried up a section of the counter top. "There's marble underneath here. It's been covered over. Hayes' servants probably used it as a pastry counter top."

"So you don't think we should just gut the room and start over?"

He looked at her like she was nuts. "No. Absolutely not. When it's restored, this room will be spectacular." He leaned over and pulled off one of the old linoleum floor tiles that had come loose. "Cherry floors, as well. Hayes didn't spare any expense in this place. Looks like the wood's been protected; it's in fairly good shape. We'll have to see if it can be refinished, once you get the grunge out of here."

He looked up at her from his position, crouching on the floor. Her expression must have given away that she wasn't convinced because he stood up and grabbed his sketch pad. "Sam, I'm serious. It's a beautiful room. Here, let me sketch out what I see."

She watched, stunned, as his vision came to life. "You really think we can do that?"

He grinned. "Yep. I do. Like I said, the bones are all here."

"The sketch is amazing, Jim. You have an incredible talent. I couldn't see it."

He shrugged. "It's already here. And it's not like it's rocket science, Sam. That's your look out. You're the one saving asses. I just 'see' design and help people work out what they'd like to see functionally that fits with that. I'm not exactly from the architectural school of 'form follows function' but I do see the point. So, more to the point here, is there anything you'd like to change before I start putting together the final plans?"

She paused, thinking. "Any chance we could put in an island? Like the one in the Colonel's house? There's a lot of space in the center that's going to waste and it wouldn't be that hard to bring in gas and electric to that part of the room, given the backbone I've had put in since I moved in."

He looked around. "I wouldn't recommend it. There's no way that you could match the wood exactly in this room, or the marble for that matter, and to put in anything of lesser quality would be criminal. Besides, strictly speaking, if we do this correctly, this is closer to a restoration than a renovation. Sure, you're going to be living here, and modern appliances need to go in, but I'd recommend you keep as close to the original design as possible. A better solution would be a large table in the center; it's probably what was here originally, and where the servants ate."

She looked around the space suspiciously. "Big table. Very, very, very big table. As in the table that ate New York."

He grinned. "Well, yeah. King Kong size table at the least. Still, it's a better solution than an island, like Jack's place. That works well there, but his house doesn't have the history that this one does."

She looked at him curiously. "Is that how you got to know the Colonel? Working on his renovation?"

"In a way." He looked down at his drawing and then back at her. "Jack's a good man."

She smiled. "Yes, he is. He's a great CO."

He shrugged and looked at her strangely. "I wouldn't know; haven't had the chance to serve under him directly, except that he's the second for the base. Strikes me as the kind of guy who might be tough in the field. But he is a good man." He turned back to the drawing.

"How did you-- sorry." She caught herself. SGC folks were, by necessity, reticent about their relationships and connections. She swallowed. "I didn't mean to be intrusive. Daniel mentioned you had a connection with the Colonel and I guess I was curious. Sorry."

He looked up again. "Jackson mentioned that?" When she shook her head, agreeing, not sure what she should say, he commented, "Knowing Jackson he must have had his reasons."

She had absolutely no idea how to respond to that, so she stayed silent.

Jim came to some sort of decision, however, and finally looked up from the drawing he was staring at again, and smiled at her. "The story's not that interesting or unusual, Sam. Although it was to me at the time."

He paused and then continued, swallowing. "You might not know this, but I came to the SGC because Charlie Kawalsky recommended me. I was on his… anyway. Doesn't matter. When Charlie died, things, people were rearranged. I was supposed to be part of SG2 back then. And the SGC was new; hell, no one knew how to deal with it. We'd all been part of Special Ops in the past, so were used to keeping things quiet. But this, this was more than that."

He sighed. "My wife's name is Linda. Anyway, she was used to 'quiet', but this was so quiet that she started pulling back. Or, hell, maybe I did. I don't know. Anyway, when things were really bad and she finally kicked me out, Jack showed up one day in the locker room, pulled me back together, and gave me place to stay. For nearly five weeks. And put up with all of it. In the end, he even talked to Linda. And things got better from there."

His expression was closed, and then he smiled. "We've got a one year old, and another on the way right now."

He looked back at her, his expression serious again. "So, I owe him, even though he doesn't think so. He's a good man."

She choked, and agreed. "Yes, he is. Thanks for telling me the story." She smiled. "You have any pictures? I'd love to see them."

He grinned, and pulled out his wallet. And they spent the next half-hour together, she hearing his stories of his family, he remembering. Sam loved it.

Jim, however, finally got a bit embarrassed, or at least that's what it seemed. He grinned, apologetic. "Sam, Jack's going to shoot both of us if we don't get this plan nailed. Grab the end of the tape, will you? I want to measure the space from the cabinets to the end of the room."

And so they did. Two hours later, Sam had her head under the sink, her body on the floor, holding the tape for Jim, focused on verifying the dimensions on the floor plan.

"Carter, you forgot to –"

"Ouch."

She jerked up, hitting her head on the pipes above her. "Damn it. Will you stop --"

Oh, hell. She'd responded automatically, focused on the problem, not remembering they had an audience. OK, so not good. She needed to watch herself. She pushed out from under the cabinet. Even though Jim was facing the other direction, she could see his eyebrows rising to the top of his head.

She tried to retrieve the situation. "Sorry, sir. You surprised me."

The Colonel scowled, still focused. "I wouldn't be doing that, Carter, if you'd lock your door and set the alarm. Even I have my limits."

She bristled. "I was expecting you and Jim was—never mind." She shut up, not wanting to give Jim any more fodder for thought. The man was looking amused enough as it was.

"Yeah. Well, it's locked now." The Colonel turned to his friend. "So what do you think, Jim?"

Jim grinned. "Oh, I have a few thoughts on any number of subjects." When the Colonel scowled again, Jim shrugged. "But if you're talking about the kitchen, I'd say it's a winner. The cabinets are cherry, so is the floor. Sink's soapstone. Marble counter top by the sink."

The Colonel brightened, clearly diverted. "Cool." He pointed toward the west wall of the room, part of which was window, the rest paneled in cheap 1960 grunge. "Have you checked what's behind the paneling yet?"

"Nope. I was waiting for you. Thought you might like to be in on the fun."

Sam interrupted; slightly horrified at the turn the conversation had taken. "Are you saying there's something behind that paneling? Because I already have one hidden room; that seems like enough."

"Carter, it's probably not a hidden room." There it was, his "calming the horses" tone again.

She wasn't buying it this time. "Then what?"

"It's most likely a fireplace. There should be one in here, given when the house was built. 'Course, given Goblin Manor's record to date, there might be a hidden staircase instead. We haven't run into one of those yet."

"Funny, sir."

He grinned. "Do you have a crowbar? It's going to take some muscle to get that paneling off."

She groaned and went to hunt her crowbar. An hour later, a lot of muscle, and a lot of grumbling from the Colonel, they were done. It had honestly been a lot of fun.

"Wow." She stared at the opening. The fireplace in the kitchen was gorgeous.

Jim grinned. "Yeah. Nice stonework. Most of it is granite. Hayes must have quarried it in the mountains and brought it down."

Sam came back down to reality, looking at the scene with homeowner's eyes, or at least she hoped she had them. And thought about the work she now needed to do because they'd uncovered the wall.

She sighed. "Yep, very enlightening. My favorite's the dead rat's nest."

The Colonel looked up from where he was poking through the debris in the fireplace, considering her comment. "No rats. Mice probably. Maybe a few bats."

He knocked on the inside wall. "And I'm sorry to disappoint you, Carter, but there's no hidden staircase. This wall is solid stone."

"I'm crushed." She grinned; she couldn't help it.

Jim smiled and stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans. "In any case, I have enough to draw the plans. And there's plenty for you to do to get the place ready for renovation."

Sam sighed. "Yep. Seems like enough. We need to tear out all the old appliances. Clean out, re-grout, and polish the fireplace and re-plaster the wall around it. Take off the cabinet faces and strip them. Remove the linoleum, and then repair and refinish the floor."

The Colonel stood up, looking around the room, grinning. "Should be a piece of cake. And you forgot that we need to tear out the counter tops, Carter."

She smiled. "Sorry; minor detail and all. It slipped my mind."

Jim grinned. "Watch out for the marble, Jack. And take out the sink. We can send it off to Colorado Stone Works to be refinished. And take out the cabinet bases on the east wall. We'll need that for new appliances…to here." Jim pointed at a break in the cabinets.

"Will do."

Jim looked around, assessing her kitchen one last time. "I better get going. Linda's expecting me home and SG4's off-world tomorrow."

He paused, diverted, suddenly silent, his attention caught by something outside the windows next to the fireplace.

"Sam, are you expecting anyone else?"

"No, why?"

"I – probably nothing. There were some lights out back; I thought they were headed this way."

"Where?" Both she and the Colonel moved to the window, scanning the scene. The Colonel had turned off the lights in the room to see the exterior outside, but there was nothing.

Jim shrugged. "It's gone now. It was over there, by the aspens." He pointed toward the west side of her property, towards the aspen grove.

"That's the end of the property. There's a small stonewall that marks the line. Was it beyond that?"

He looked back into the yard, toward the area where she was gesturing. "Hard to tell this time of night. Anyway, it is gone, whatever it was." He pulled on his jacket, changing the subject. "I'm probably just a little too alert for on-world activities. We just got back from P3X772 and it takes a while to come down. Sorry."

He changed the subject. "Anyway, I should have the finals ready for you to look at Friday night, Sam, unless my team gets waylaid on P3 whatever tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jim."

The Colonel broke in before she could finish. "Bring the plans by my place, Jim, and bring Linda along. OK with you, Carter? We'll probably both need a break from take-out dinners and demolition by then."

"I – yes, that would be great. Thanks, sir."

She waited for some sort of comment from Jim, but he didn't even raise an eyebrow. "Will do, Jack. Thanks. Night, Sam."

"I'll see you out, Jim."

When she came back into the kitchen, the Colonel was standing in darkness, staring out the window.

"Anything?"

"No. Nothing. Nothing at all."

She shrugged. "It was probably just a neighbor."

"Could be."

He turned from the window to look at her. "I better head out."

Sam interrupted, not wanting to end the evening, even though it was late. She'd seen another side of the Colonel tonight from Jim's eyes, and one she wanted to know better. "Night cap, sir? I've got some 12-year-old single malt scotch straight from the Isles. Talisker."

He grinned. "You're corrupting me, Carter."

"I wish." Oh hell, she'd said that aloud. How could she have actually been so stupid to say that aloud? Jeez. "I didn't—"

His eyes were twinkling as he broke in. "Sounds like a plan."

TBC…