Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The first bouquet arrived on a Tuesday evening, left neatly on Samantha Carter’s front porch. It was late spring, the air still holding a trace of coolness as the sun dipped behind the mountains. She almost didn’t notice the bouquet at first. She had been running through a mental checklist—lab work, reports, the briefing she had that morning—when she reached her door and paused. The flowers were arranged with deliberate care. White lilies and pale pink roses, tied together with a satin ribbon that looked expensive but not ostentatious. For a second she thought maybe Janet. Or Cassandra. Some forgotten occasion.
Then she saw the note.
You always come home around this time. I thought you might like something waiting for you.
Sam stood there longer than she meant to, keys still in her hand, her pulse doing something small and strange in her chest. It wasn’t threatening. Not exactly. But something about the wording felt… off. Too familiar. Too certain.
She looked up and down the quiet street. Nothing. No car idling. No figure lingering. Just the soft hum of suburban stillness.
After a moment, she picked up the bouquet and carried it inside.
She told herself it was nothing.
—
The second delivery came two days later.
This time, it arrived at the base.
An airman knocked on the door to her lab, holding a smaller bouquet—bright yellow daisies, cheerful and harmless-looking in a way that almost felt like a deliberate contrast to the unease curling in her stomach.
“Delivery for you, ma’am.”
Sam blinked, startled. “For me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She hesitated only a second before taking them. “Thank you.”
The airman nodded and left, and the door clicked shut behind him. The lab felt quieter than it had a moment ago.
There was another card.
I wasn’t sure if you preferred mornings or evenings. You left earlier than usual today.
Sam stared at the words.
Her mind moved quickly, automatically, trying to rationalize. Someone who lived nearby. Someone who noticed patterns. Someone observant.
Not someone dangerous.
Not necessarily.
Still, she set the flowers down more carefully than she needed to, her fingers lingering against the edge of the table. Her shoulders felt tight, her awareness sharpened in a way she didn’t like.
She had faced things far worse than anonymous flowers.
So why did this feel… different?
—
By the time the third bouquet arrived—again at her house, this time deep red roses—Sam’s unease had settled into something steadier, quieter, harder to ignore.
You didn’t come home at your usual time yesterday. I waited longer than I expected.
She read the note twice.
Then a third time.
Something in her chest tightened.
Waited.
She hadn’t mentioned the deliveries to anyone yet. Not really. It felt… small. Insignificant, compared to everything else she dealt with on a daily basis. Alien threats. Planetary risks. Life-and-death decisions.
Flowers didn’t belong in that category.
And yet.
She found herself checking the locks that night. Once. Then again.
—
After the second delivery to the base, she went to security.
“I’d like to decline any future floral deliveries,” she said, keeping her tone even, professional. “Personal preference.”
The officer nodded without question. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll flag it.”
“Thank you.”
She left quickly, ignoring the faint sense of relief that followed her out the door.
—
It didn’t stop the ones at her house.
—
Janet stopped by her lab a few days later, leaning casually against the doorframe as Sam worked through a series of calculations.
“Those are new,” Janet said lightly, nodding toward the latest bouquet—soft lavender and white blooms arranged in a glass vase.
Sam glanced at them and gave a half smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah.”
Janet tilted her head, studying her. “You’ve got a secret admirer I don’t know about?”
Sam let out a small breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “I guess so. They just keep showing up. Everywhere.”
Janet’s expression shifted almost immediately. The teasing faded, replaced by something gentler. More attentive. “Everywhere?”
Sam shrugged, turning slightly back to her work. “Home. Base. It’s not a big deal.”
“Are they making you uncomfortable?”
Sam shook her head quickly. “No. Not really. They’re just flowers.” She paused, then added more quietly, “I asked security to decline all floral deliveries for me moving forward though.”
Janet didn’t move. “Sam…”
“It’s fine,” Sam said, a little too quickly. “Really. It seems silly to make a big fuss over flowers.”
Janet watched her for a long moment, clearly unconvinced. “You could report it. MPs. At least have it on record.”
Sam shook her head again, more firmly this time. “They’re just flowers, Janet.”
But even as she said it, she avoided looking at the bouquet.
Janet noticed.
And the worry didn’t leave her face when she finally nodded and changed the subject.
—
Jack noticed too.
It was hard not to.
Even with security declining deliveries, one slipped through—a bouquet left at her workstation before anyone caught it. Purple irises this time. Elegant. Precise.
Jack picked up the card before she could stop him.
His expression changed as he read it.
You worked late again. You should get more rest.
He looked at her. Really looked at her.
“Care to explain this?”
Sam exhaled slowly, running a hand through her hair. “Someone’s been sending them. I… I don’t know who.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion—never that—but in something sharper. Protective. “How long?”
“A couple weeks.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it?”
She gave a small, helpless shrug. “It didn’t seem like a big deal at first.”
“It still doesn’t?” he asked quietly.
She forced a small smile. “They’re just flowers.”
Jack didn’t smile back.
He studied her face instead, and she felt that familiar, unsettling sense of being seen too clearly. He had known her too long. He knew the difference between her calm and her pretending.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, edged with something deeper than a superior officer’s concern.
“Completely,” she said.
It was a lie.
They both knew it.
Neither of them said so out loud.
—
After that, things shifted.
Subtly.
Quietly.
Sam didn’t notice it right away, not until she realized that Daniel and Teal’c had started alternating walking her to her car in the evenings.
It was never framed as protection.
Daniel would say something about continuing a conversation.
Teal’c would simply fall into step beside her, his presence steady and unspoken.
But it happened every night.
Without fail.
And Jack—
Jack started texting.
“You make it home?”
The first time it happened, she stared at the message for a long moment before replying.
“Yeah. Just got in.”
A few seconds later:
“Good.”
That was it.
Short. Simple.
But it stayed with her longer than it should have.
—
The flowers at her house kept coming.
Always different.
Always carefully chosen.
And always accompanied by notes that hovered just on the edge of something she couldn’t quite name.
You took a different route today.
You seemed distracted this morning.
I hope you’re sleeping better tonight.
None of it was overtly threatening.
None of it crossed a line she could clearly point to and say, this is wrong.
And yet—
Every time she unlocked her door, her chest tightened just a little.
Every time she pulled into her driveway, she scanned the street before getting out.
Every time she saw a new bouquet waiting for her, something in her stomach dropped before she could stop it.
She kept telling herself it was nothing.
She kept telling everyone else the same thing.
“They’re just flowers.”
But late at night, when the house was quiet and the shadows felt a little too deep, she found herself wondering who was watching.
And how long they had been.