32. (Sam)

Additional A/N at end of chapter. Here, I want to thank Bristow1941 and NiciMac for helping me with this chapter of the story, and in fact the direction of all of the story. More on their help at the end; I don't want to spoil this chapter... ( she ducks.. grinning) OK, and I should also mention that Jack's costume in this part of the tale, if you haven't followed RDA's work or don't live in the US is a dig. It's explained in the A/N at the end. Thanks to all for reading and writing to tell me your thoughts! It's been really fun.

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Sam flounced the sides of her ankle length skirt and wiped her hands on the apron she'd put over the velvet in order to avoid damaging it. She grimaced. The costume was a complete pain; it had been severely constricting her movements all night. Then she grinned, remembering. Of course, in the end it had been worth it. The party had been amazing.

She looked around her at her kitchen. Although it had been a complete disaster mere hours ago, the SGC had come through with its usual panache and now all of the surfaces were spotless and the food stored away. The countertops gleamed, and the cherry cabinets and floors reflected the warmth of the fire burning in the fireplace.

The table that "ate New York" was settled in; it looked like it had always been in the center of the room ready for action. She smiled to herself. On the other hand, the Colonel's wine cooler looked exhausted. Of course, it had had quite the workout that night. The Colonel was right. You couldn't throw an SGC party without a wine cooler. Gets the beer and the wine out of the fridge.

If someone had told her three months ago that she was going to throw a Halloween party for all of the SGC and their families, she would have told them they were nuts, which just went to show how you can never predict the future. Had someone told her that she was also going to invite the Colorado Springs police chief and his officers, the city planner, Griff, his crew and the rest of the Colonel's poker buddies, she would have had them certified immediately.

And yet, here she was. Even Rodger had closed the restaurant in Denver in order to enjoy the fun. Of course, once there, she couldn't keep him out of the kitchen. Consequently, the food had been amazing.

She grinned, remembering. The Colonel had insisted on a costume party. All of the adults had been required to wear period costumes from the days when Hayes owned the house. It had been eerily appropriate; for one night the house had come to life again as it had been a hundred years ago. There were prospectors, cowboys, saloon girls, bankers, teachers, miners and more.

Daniel had taken the Colonel's idea one step further, along with the County librarian, and provided biographies of members of the 1890 Colorado City community for anyone who wanted to act the part. Most of the SGC had taken him up on the offer. All night long she'd heard snippets of conversation that easily could have happened when Hayes was alive. And the idea had been a brilliant icebreaker between the community members and SGC staff. The groups had interacted as if they'd known each other for years.

She smiled. The Colonel's dress code hadn't extended to the kids; he thought they should be able to dress up whatever way they wanted. Consequently, there had been miniature ghosts, goblins, witches and even Batman running through the house. Somehow, that made the evening pretty much perfect.

The SGC's creativity had really shown through when it came to the kids. They'd taken to planning a haunted house for the kids like ducks to water. The "Terrifying Trail" started outside the house, with ghosts rising out of her crypt to offer candy, miners disappearing into the mists, and monsters hiding in the trees. It led down through the tunnel, lit dimly by old mining lanterns, with bats on the ceiling and other creatures popping out of the walls. The kids had to push through the tunnel door, which groaned in a way it never actually had, into the hidden room, where witches and ghosts and monsters and cauldrons of dry iced punch and, as Cassandra had said gleefully, "really really icky treats" were loaded on tables.

The SGC crew had left the door from the room into the house open, although covered by a thick black curtain. The basement, Hayes' old speakeasy, had been set up as an 1890s saloon; the mahogany bar gleaming, tables for poker and card games prepared, and a dance floor ready for use. It had been honestly amazing.

And thinking of amazing, the Colonel had shown up early to help her with preparations, and had taken her breath away. He'd dressed as a western Victorian gentleman, and his casual elegance and relaxed demeanor made her feel almost as if she had been sent back in time. He literally looked like he had been born to the part.

She grinned, remembering the conversation.

"Carter, where are you?" His voice came booming through the house. He'd left an hour earlier to get ready for the party.

"Kitchen, sir." She turned as he entered. "I --- wow."

He smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Carter, you look great. That dress is the exact color of your eyes."

She grinned and curtsied. "Thank you, sir." She looked him up and down, carefully. "You look pretty fine yourself."

He grinned. "Well, thank you, ma'am." He looked back at her questioningly, suddenly seeing something in her expression. "What?"

She swallowed, coughing to hide her laughter. "Well, sir, what's with the ----?" She gestured towards what had to be the biggest fake mustache she'd ever seen.

"Teal'c's idea. You know, I think he has a thing about hair." He smoothed the mustache down. "No?"

She cringed. "Uh, no, sir. Sorry."

Instead of looking deflated, he looked delighted. "Thank god." He ripped the fake mustache off, wincing. "I owe you one, Carter."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. Do you have any idea how itchy that damned thing is? Not to mention that it had the potential to seriously hinder any 'eat, drink and be merry' on my part."

She grinned. "Glad to be of help, sir. Who are you supposed to be?"

He bowed. "Nickolodean -- uh, Legend, I think it was, now minus a mustache. I'll have to ask Daniel the name again. Evidently, the guy's a writer, or something."

Her mind boggled at the idea of Daniel assigning the part of a writer to the Colonel. "A writer?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I thought it was weird, too. But Daniel says he's not a literary type. Wrote dime novels, kind of like the Simpson's of the time, Nick-at Nite stuff."

"Ah." Well, that did explain a lot. She paused, thinking. "Nickolodean's a kids tv channel, sir."

He shrugged. "Whatever. At least the guy had a preference for poker and whiskey. I thought that part worked."

She laughed. "Yep, that fits. Looks like you're ready for prime time, Colonel."

He smiled. "Nah. More likely they'd cancel half-way through the season." He grinned again. "On the other hand, I could really get used to you in that outfit."

He gestured towards her dress, and then backed away when he saw the look in her eyes and coughed. "Or not. Uhh… I'm going to check on the decorations downstairs."

"You do that, sir."

"Yeah. Going now."

"Good idea."

He headed down the stairs.

The evening had been fun, actually pretty hilarious, because for some reason, the Colonel had decided to designate himself as her personal emcee, commenting on everyone's costume as they arrived.

"Who the hell knew that there were archaeologists in the west in 1890?"

She grinned. "I expect Daniel did, sir."

"Yeah, well, he should not have been allowed to pick out his own costume. It's just – wrong."

"Why? What did he---oh." She turned and located Daniel in the crowd. He was dressed as a half cowboy, half archaeologist. "Sorry, sir."

He stared at her suspiciously. "Did you know about this?"

"Totally innocent. Why? Who's he pretending to be?"

"Some guy named Richard Wetherill. Evidently, Weatherman was a cowboy turned archaeologist who lived in Colorado canyon country and dug up… lots and lots of bones. I managed to miss most of the lecture, but they were from an early people who lived here called the Anasazi."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. Daniel has researched the story extensively."

"Sorry, sir."

He grumped. "Do either of you understand the term downtime?" She started to defend herself, but he stopped her by raising his hand. "Daniel says that the term 'Anasazi' isn't P.C. anymore. The correct term is the 'Ancients' or 'Ancient Enemy'."

She stared at him, slightly shocked. "You have to be kidding."

"Would I kid about a thing like that?"

"No."

"Yeah." He took a drink of beer and then continued looking around the room, brightening when he saw Teal'c. "Now that is a cowboy."

She grinned. "Quite the hat."

The Colonel looked outraged. "That, Carter, is a Stetson. It is not a hat."

"I stand corrected."

He smiled. "You know, Kazinski has been giving Teal'c the evil eye. I think he has visions of a stand off at high noon."

She laughed. "More likely, he wants to recruit Teal'c to the Springs Police Force." She refilled the empty bowl of chips he'd brought into the kitchen and watched, amused, as he rambled off and then introduced Teal'c to Kazinski. From the looks of it, the two men hit it off immediately.

It couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes later when the Colonel headed back with more commentary. "You seen Cassie?"

"No, what's she dressed as?"

"Laura Engalls Wilder."

She grinned. "She's been reading all the books. This part of Colorado isn't exactly the prairie, but I guess we have to give her poetic license."

"The kid is amazing, Carter. She has the role completely down pat."

"As good as Daniel?"

The Colonel scowled, and then grinned at her. "Far, far better."

"What's Janet dressed as?"

The Colonel looked at her evilly. "Oh, that I can't describe. You have to see it to believe it." With that, he grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the kitchen and into the living room where Cassie and Janet Fraiser were talking to General Hammond.

"I – uh…Wow." Janet looked absolutely amazing, dressed as a saloon girl in a red and black corset that had more than one of the SGC's single guys looking at her in an entirely new way. And the Doc was definitely playing the role to the hilt.

The Colonel grinned. "Who knew that the Doc was a wild woman?"

Sam stared, still taking in Janet's costume. "I knew Daniel gave her the bio of a saloon girl in Colorado City, but I had no idea they'd come up with something so … creative."

The Colonel glanced around, amused. "Well, I suspect the infirmary's going to be a busy place for a while, until most of these guys," he gestured at a group of SGC personnel, "recall that the Doc's really good with needles."

She grinned. " Janet can take care of herself." She smiled. "In fact, I think she'll be amused by the whole thing."

"Yeah." The Colonel glanced at her, a teasing note creeping into his voice. "So, Carter, ever think about taking a turn at being a saloon …uh… woman?"

"Actually, yes. I was going to be one tonight, but Daniel talked me out of it."

"He did what? Why?"

"Well, he said that as the proprietor of this fine establishment, I needed to dress respectably. Apparently, the madams of the time made sure that everyone knew they were businesswomen by dressing accordingly."

"Uhuh. He is so dead."

"What?"

"Never mind, Carter. Daniel loves messing with my mind, that's all. C'mon, let's go see what Hammond and the Doc are up to."

"Who's Hammond supposed to be?"

"The mayor of Colorado City, the honorable Carleton Gates. After two terms, he lost the election in 1890 due to graft. Evidently, when he sold his shares in the local bordello," he looked around him, grinning, "the locals weren't pleased."

She grinned. "Shame."

She finally asked the question that had been on her mind most of the evening. "Has Henry Lanford shown up?"

The Colonel smiled a full-blown smile, his eyes crinkling. "Yeah. He's talking to Daniel. He's dressed as Henry Hayes in his mining days."

She sighed. "Oh, man, I hope ---"

"Carter, it's all right. He's fine. Jemez says his progress is amazing."

The doctor at the Veteran's Administration that the Colonel had convinced to take on Lanford's case had said that Lanford had been misdiagnosed the first time around. He'd consequently changed Lanford's medication and the results had been dramatic. The last time she'd seen the Major, when she'd visited him at the VA, he'd been lucid and attentive.

It was typical of the Colonel, now that she understood him, that he'd followed through to make sure Lanford was all right. It was also typical of the Colonel that he'd gone one better.

She glanced out the window at the house next door to hers that had been owned by the drug dealers. By the time it had gone up for public auction, the Colonel had convinced the VA, Hammond, and the Colorado Springs community leaders that it was the perfect location for a VA satellite community center, particularly serving members of the SGC and their families. So, the Air Force had acquired the property. In fact, it was being renovated now. Another one of the Colonel's ideas was to hire Lanford on as a caretaker of the property if he became well enough.

She smiled. Apparently the Colonel had been serious when he told Lanford he wanted the man to watch her back. She shrugged. She could hardly complain; it was a solution that worked for the VA, families of the SGC staff, and Lanford. And for her. With Lanford and so many military around regularly, the NID was going to find it impossible to try to get into her place again. And that really was the best they could do right now to bring the rest of the group down. At least the Colonel's plan had resulted in sending most of the rogue agents to ground for a while.

"Carter? You there? You look like you're out in ...no, you usually pay more attention there. Right now, you're just somewhere else."

"Sorry. Just thinking about Henry. I really hope he's all right."

"Well, then, let's go talk to him. You can see for yourself."

They had and after some conversation, she had to agree with the Colonel. Major Lanford was going to be fine.

The rest of the evening had followed the same pattern. Every time she started working in the kitchen the Colonel tracked her down, helped for a while and then dragged her off to some new sight. She thought about that. He'd been right. As hostess, she needed to be moving around, talking to folks, and because of him, she had been. Besides, Rodger had been in his element in the kitchen. She'd only been getting in the way. And so, she'd had a wonderful time. They all had.

She grinned at the memory, turned off the lights in the kitchen and then blew out the last of the jack-o-lanterns perched throughout the room. The fire in the fireplace was nearly out, the last embers crackling, sending out an orange-red glow. She glanced at her watch. Midnight. Only the Colonel was left now, downstairs locking up. He should be back any minute.

She shivered. It was suddenly cold in the room.

She turned, quickly, somehow expecting to see someone come through the door. But the door to the outside was closed, locked and there was no one…

...except there was someone, there in the shadow.

"Hello?" She stared at the shape, still in darkness. It looked like Henry Lanford, dressed in Hayes mining clothes, but there was something … off. Somehow, Lanford looked too perfect, too real.

"Henry? Is everything ok?"

Nothing.

"Major Lanford?"

The person in the shadow gazed at her silently, as if he was waiting for something.

She swallowed and asked the impossible. "Mr. Hayes?"

The vision bowed and then raised his hand in farewell. Suddenly, he was gone.

Sam stared into empty space. It was not possible. It was absolutely not possible. The Colonel was right; there was no such thing as ghosts, but…

"Captain Carter?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin as she turned quickly, seeing the real Henry Lanford standing behind her.

"You saw him, didn't you, ma'am."

"I—hell, I don't know what I saw, Henry."

He walked into the kitchen, following her gaze. "It was Hayes, Captain. He told me he wanted to thank you and the Colonel for finding his wife. I wasn't sure when he was going to get around to it."

He stared into the shadows. "He's gone now. I don't think he'll be back." He swallowed and then continued. "The guy was literally driving me nuts, but in a way, I am going to miss him."

"Henry, he wasn't here. It's not possible." She scanned the area again, looking for any sort of rational explanation. There. The window. She gestured towards it. "I just saw your reflection. It surprised me."

He looked at her knowingly, as if to argue and then clearly changed his mind. He shrugged. "Whatever you say, Captain."

"I – yeah. It was just your reflection."

"Yes, ma'am."

She swallowed and turned away from the window, rubbing her arms to chase away the chill. "Is there something you wanted?"

He cocked his head. "Wanted to thank you for the invitation and the fine evening, Captain. We're secure downstairs. The Colonel asked me to tell you he'll be up shortly."

"Thanks. I was glad you could come."

"Captain, I also want to thank you for the opportunity for myself and for helping Hayes. I won't let you down."

She smiled. "I know you won't. And I appreciate your being willing to keep an eye on the place. But it was General Hammond and the Colonel who organized everything. They're the ones you should thank."

"Already did, ma'am." He looked away. "If there's nothing else that needs doing, I'll head out. Dr. Jackson said he'd give me a ride back to the VA." He grinned to himself. "Have a good rest of the evening, ma'am. I hope you enjoy it."

"Sleep well, Henry." She watched as he headed out the back door, securing it when he left. She rubbed her arms again, thinking. It had to have been his reflection. It'd been a long night after all, and with all the costumes, it wasn't surprising that she was imagining things. It had just been his reflection.

Yeah, right.

"Carter?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin again. Damn. That was getting to be a habit.

"What's wrong? You look like you've just seen a ghost." The Colonel grinned, pleased at his joke. He did a double-take when he saw her expression. "Whoah. Sorry. Clearly not funny."

"No."

He grimaced. "Long night?"

She shrugged away the last few minutes and focused on the man in front of her. She smiled. "It was a wonderful night. I guess I'm still wired from all of the action."

"Well, I have the perfect solution for that. C'mon. Everyone's gone. The place is cleaned up. And a night cap is ready and waiting for both of us downstairs in the saloon."

She followed him down the stairs, and stopped, suddenly grinning. All of the jack-o-lanterns and Halloween candles were focused around the mahogany bar, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere.

"Nice. I think Hayes would approve."

The Colonel rolled his eyes. He walked behind the bar, pulled out a bottle of champagne and popped the cork. He poured them both a glass, his eyes twinkling. "Congratulations on your first successful SGC party, Carter."

His grin infectious, she smiled back and took a drink. "Thanks." She looked across the bar to him. "I really want to thank you for all the—"

He interrupted. "No need. I may have started the ball rolling, but I think Teal'c, Fredrickson, and Reynolds would have shot me if I'd interfered that last week."

She took a sip of champagne, remembering. "I still can't believe how much they accomplished. Not just the kitchen --but the living room, dining room --- they finished all of it, the whole first floor, not to mention what they accomplished down here." She glanced around the room, in awe of the amount of work the SGC had put into her house. It was stunning.

The Colonel shrugged. "I told you that the kitchen would only take about a week, two at most. With all the extra bodies that last week while we were waiting out the NID, it made sense to finish the rest." He paused, thinking. "Good thing Teal'c is on our side. He definitely knows how to marshal the troops."

She grinned. "Hard man to argue with."

He raised his eyebrow, his face deadpan. "Indeed."

She sighed and took a sip of champagne.

"What?"

She tilted her head, trying to smile. "I don't know -- I guess I'm going to miss it all." Mostly, she was going to miss him hanging around the place at all hours now that there was no reason for it any longer. And if Hayes story had taught her anything, it was to live in the moment and appreciate what she did have.

She tried joking. "I never thought buying a house would be quite this much fun."

He smirked. "I *told* you it would be, but you didn't believe me. So, admit it --- you loved discovering gravestones, crypts, secret tunnels, ghosts ---"

She laughed. "Okay, I admit it. I did."

"I will miss the company, though. I'll miss everyone..hanging around the place." She swallowed, trying to keep her tone light, "and I'll miss...you... uhhh... your help." It was as close to the truth as she could go, given what was possible.

Something in her expression must have given her away, though, because the Colonel's eyes turned suddenly dark, searching, and his expression serious.

He grabbed his glass and walked around the bar, settling down next to her on a barstool. She settled in next to him, watching as he picked some imaginary fluff out of his champagne glass.

"You ever watched any soap operas, Carter?"

"What?" The change in topic was jarring, but that, after all, was the Colonel. He went from one topic to another with regularity without anyone following at first. "I -- no. Not really. Haven't had the time. Have you?"

He smirked. "Fraiser's excellence at torture is not limited to needles. When she gets really pissed, she kills the news and sports channels in the infirmary. That leaves day time tv."

"Ah. So..."

"So...just saying that the Hayes story seemed a bit like that to me. Not really real. An 1890's version of a soap. But then, you said something that changed my mind. That the lesson was we should appreciate what we have, when we have it." He took a sip of his champagne, and looked back at her, his eyes serious.

She grimaced. "Yeah. I did."

"I'm not done, Sam. I think you're right; we should, but that's not all to consider. There's also Lanford's story. He left everything far too late; gave up his life, who he was, because he thought he didn't need anyone, ever, only the job. He's a good man, but he couldn't get out of the trap."

"You helped him out of that. He'll be all right."

"Yeah. I think he'll be ok. But he spent a decade lost. That's a lot for anyone to pay."

She stared. "It is."

He swirled his champagne glass, and finally continued. "Reynolds mentioned something interesting a while ago to me. Said nothing's permanent in the military. Things change."

She took a sip of champagne, refusing to look at him. "He was right."

"He was." She finally glanced up again at him when he ran his hand lightly over her own, ignoring the shivers that suddenly ran down her spine and then turned her palm deliberately to his.

"Sam, he wasn't speaking in general. At the time, he was referring to the fact that tours of duty are routinely renegotiated every three years. I think most of the SGC rosters will need to be looked at next year." He glanced down at his champagne. "I know I'm up for review then, so are you."

He paused. "Not all change is necessarily bad."

She stared at him, her mind racing. He couldn't possibly mean what she thought he did. "I –"

He interrupted. "I'm just…saying. That's what Reynolds said." And then he continued. "It is something to consider."

She thought about all the things she could say. That they were fighting a war, that the Goa'uld were on the doorstep, that they had the obligation to see it through. And then she stopped. He knew it as well, knew the risks, probably better than she did. There was no need to remind him.

But she couldn't let it go, either. "You won't be able to walk away. Neither one of us will." She grimaced, "Hell, they probably won't even let us, anyway."

He stared at her carefully. "They won't have a choice. When the time comes, if you're still up for it, we could re-deal the deck and play a new hand. And if that doesn't work, we up the ante. There are always options. That is, if you want them."

She looked back at the Colonel… no, looked back at …Jack.

"I could do that."

He pulled her hand away from her glass, gently examining her fingers, one by one. "Good to know."

She smiled, and then grabbed his hand, resting hers on top of his, stilling his movements. "You know, I swore that I was going to learn something from the Hayes' story. They never learned to appreciate what they did have, to live each day as it came." She swallowed and then looked back at Jack. "But honestly, right now a year is looking like a really long time."

She thought she'd seen Jack O'Neill in all of his manifestations; Colonel, superior, colleague, mentor, friend, partner… but the look in his eyes and his smile told her that she'd only scratched the surface of learning about him. And what was underneath the veneer was something that took her breath away.

She swallowed again, trying to break the spell he'd suddenly woven around her and yet unwilling to leave its cocoon.

He broke it for her, his smirk lighting up the room for her. "Yep, a year is a really long time, or only a moment. It's all relative, you know."

She smiled, and let him lead. "I had heard that somewhere."

He grabbed her hand firmly in his, solidifying their grasp. "Thought you had. Word does tend to get out." He paused, suddenly serious again. "Sam, I ---"

She stopped him simply by moving her other hand along his mouth, savoring the feel of his lips under her hands. "It's enough."

His eyes darkened, and he put his own hand on top of hers, then moved hers next to his heart and placed his forehead on top of hers.

She could feel his grin; it was a moment she thought she'd always remember.

She swallowed and then grabbed her champagne when he finally moved away. "You know, Sam, that relative time thing… a year isn't so long."

She glanced up at him. "No?"

He smiled. "Nope. There's a lot to do. Right here at your place."

"Like what?"

"I figure there's at least a years worth of remodel projects on the horizon. First, you've got to have a master bedroom suite."

"I do?"

"Of course. You can't have a house this size without a Jacuzzi and a steam shower."

"In a Victorian?"

"Architectural license, Carter. Trust me. Not having a steam shower is just… wrong."

"Of course it is."

"And while we're at it, you need two more baths on the second floor."

"Because?"

"Because the one that's up there currently will be part of the master bedroom suite. You have three other bedrooms on the second floor. You need a bath for the guest room, and then one for the other two rooms."

"Of course I do."

"And then, there's the landscaping. We did prune the bushes, but you need to put in the watering system and add a few more trees for background. While you're at it, you may as well put in a white picket fence."

She stared at him, suddenly speechless. There was absolutely no way he could know about her fantasies about a white picket fence. No way in hell.

He looked concerned. "What? You have a thing against white picket fences?"

"Ah, no. No not at all. They're fine. More than fine. A white picket fence would be great."

"Good. Personally, I think you should put that in right after we finish the master bedroom suite. No need to wait until the rest of the landscaping's in. Then you can get a dog."

She looked up at that. "I don't want a dog."

"Maybe not, but I do."

"Oh." She smiled, the future suddenly bright and clear. "Right. Master bedroom suite, white picket fence and then dog. I think I have it."

"Good to know, Carter. And not one of those sappy lap dogs. I'm talking a real dog, lab, German Shepard, you know, a big dog. Just so we're clear."

"Got it."

The smile he sent her literally took her breath away. He finally broke the moment, and looked down into his champagne, taking a sip. From his grin, she could tell he clearly wasn't done yet.

"Now, as far as parties go, I would classify the Halloween bash you just gave as a distinct success. But you have to follow up; the SGC will expect more than a one-time deal. There's Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's…"

"You can't be serious."

"Of course I am."

She sighed, thinking it over. "Of course you are. Don't forget Valentine's Day, St Patrick's Day, the Fourth of July, and …"

"Exactly, Carter. Now you're getting the hang of it."

"Does this include your monthly poker games?"

He grinned. "Well, now that you mention it, the saloon really is the perfect location. Not that I'd ask, of course."

"Of course not."

"And –" He stopped suddenly, staring at something behind her to his left.

"Jack?"

She tried again. "Is something wrong?"

"No – I – Sam, did you see that?"

"See what?" She turned and looked. There was nothing behind her.

He cocked his head, still staring. "I could have sworn…you're sure you can't see that?"

"I -- no." She stared into the darkness, suddenly tense, reacting to the Colonel's motions. But there was nothing.

"Lanford did leave with Daniel, right?"

"Yes. About an hour ago."

"Huh."

He shook his head, as if to clear it, and then started blowing out the jack-o-lanterns. Then he grabbed the champagne. "Let's finish this upstairs. It's late and Hammond will have both of our hides tomorrow if we're not on time, party or no party. Besides, Schroedinger is probably pissed about being stuck in the bedroom all night."

"Sounds good to me." She helped him blow out the rest of the lanterns and started heading up the stairs. "You know, for someone who doesn't like cats, you worry about mine enough for both of us."

"First line of defense. Make friends with the locals."

"Ah." She grinned. "I thought your usual plan was shoot first and ask questions later."

"Smart ass." He paused, suddenly silent.

"Carter?"

"Yes?" She turned and stopped on the stair, looking down. Jack was still gazing into the dark of the room.

"So, after all of this…do you honestly believe in ghosts?"

"No question about it."

He grinned up at her. "That's what I thought you'd say." Then he turned around, looking back down into the cellar.

"Night, Henry."

She laughed as she heard him latch the door.

End

Additional A/N. Well, there you have it. The end of GAL. I do hope you enjoyed the tale. Again, I want to thank NiciMac for putting up with reviewing numerous, numerous, numerous renditions of this tale and patiently explaining when I was losing it...as in characterizations, plot, sanity, etc. grin. A truly wonderful woman!!! I also want to thank Bristow1941 for patiently explaining that, if she didn't, someone else would probably shoot me, as Jack would say, if I ended the tale the way I was going to originally--- which was for Sam to sell the House, as they couldn't trust the NID. She also came up with the idea to do something about Henry as a caretaker and being a caretaker. Thank you both very much!!And yeah, they both would have done something evil if we didn't have some sort of carefully quiet but happy resolution. So, they rock, very much.. grin...

Thanks to all of you for reading, reviewing, and taking time to look at the tale. I do hope you enjoyed it. It was a lot of fun to write. If I have not responded to reviews or missed any, I apologize. I think I may have in the year I was distracted. My thanks for writing then and my apologies now.

Take care,

Sam938

FYI.. After MacGyver, RDA had a brief series where he played Nicodemuous Legend, a dime novel writer, who drank a lot and played poker. The tale was set in the 1870s in the West. It lasted half a season; it was really fun to watch. Yep, had a huge mustache. Nicolodean is a kid's tv channel in the US and Nick-at-Nite is another that plays old classic reruns...