Chapter Text
It had started as a running joke on base.
At least, that was what people still called it, even though the joke had long since taken on a life of its own.
Nobody could really pinpoint the moment it had happened. Somewhere between off-world missions, paperwork, staff meetings, and the sort of near-constant danger that came with working at Stargate Command, the question of whether anything would ever happen between Jack O'Neill and Sam Carter had become a source of endless fascination.
It probably should have died a quick death. The regulations alone should have killed it.
Instead, those regulations seemed to have had the opposite effect.
The fact that something was impossible only made people more interested in it.
At first there had been the occasional joke in the mess hall. A few knowing looks. Someone making a comment after a mission that earned a round of laughter and a sharp warning to keep their voice down.
Then someone introduced betting.
That had been the beginning of the end.
The pool started small enough to be ignored. A few dollars exchanged between friends. Harmless speculation. Before long, however, people were tracking trends. Someone had started assigning odds. Someone else had begun keeping records of "significant incidents," a category that somehow included everything from shared smiles during briefings to who stood next to whom during post-mission celebrations.
The whole thing should have been ridiculous.
The problem was that every now and then Sam and Jack would do something that made everyone think maybe it wasn't.
The infirmary incident had nearly broken the system entirely.
Nobody knew exactly what Jack had whispered to her while she was recovering. Nobody had been close enough to hear. But plenty of people had seen him lean down beside her bed, and even more had seen the brief hug that followed. It hadn't lasted long. Maybe a few seconds.
Apparently a few seconds was all it took.
People had won money.
People had lost money.
At least one argument had reportedly escalated into a shouting match in the commissary.
Siler knew this because he had personally witnessed it.
Which was exactly why he nearly walked straight into a support beam when he saw Sam Carter emerge from her lab carrying a bouquet of roses.
Not flowers.
Roses.
Long-stemmed. Red. Unmistakably romantic roses.
On Valentine's Day.
For a moment he genuinely wondered whether he had forgotten what day it was.
His gaze darted toward the nearest display screen.
February 14th.
Right.
Still Valentine's Day.
Still reality.
Unfortunately.
Slowly, his eyes returned to the bouquet.
Then to Sam.
The flowers themselves were surprising enough.
Sam's expression was what truly threw him.
She didn't look embarrassed.
She didn't look pleased.
If anything, she looked annoyed.
Actually, annoyed wasn't quite the right word.
She looked like she'd been presented with a problem that refused to obey the laws of physics and had decided to take it personally.
Siler had seen that expression before.
Usually it preceded several hours of intense calculations and the occasional frustrated muttering about people who clearly didn't understand basic scientific principles.
Seeing it directed at a bouquet of roses was unsettling.
Sam adjusted the flowers slightly as she walked, glancing down at them with visible suspicion. The look suggested she expected them to reveal hostile intent at any moment.
Which, admittedly, wasn't entirely impossible around here.
Still, Siler wasn't focused on her reaction.
He was focused on one very important detail.
Nobody got anything into Major Carter's lab without clearance.
Nobody.
Her lab wasn't just another office. It housed classified research, alien technology, and enough sensitive material to give security personnel nightmares. Getting access required authorization. Getting access without anyone noticing was even harder.
And while Sam Carter was hardly lacking in admirers, none of them had ever been reckless enough to act on it.
Certainly not openly.
Certainly not inside Stargate Command.
Certainly not with roses.
Which left one possibility.
Siler stopped walking.
The realization hit him with all the force of a zat blast.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
Several people glanced at him.
He ignored them.
Because suddenly he was remembering exactly how much money he currently had riding on "nothing happens before summer."
A significant amount, as it happened.
Possibly an irresponsible amount.
An amount that now felt deeply endangered.
Ahead of him, Sam continued down the corridor, apparently unaware that she was carrying the financial future of half the base in her arms.
Siler hesitated for approximately three seconds.
Then he made a decision.
A terrible decision.
A decision he would later defend as professional curiosity.
Keeping a careful distance, he followed her.
Not close enough to be obvious.
Just close enough to observe.
Entirely different thing.
---
Sam had almost reached the next junction when she spotted Daniel.
He was leaning against the wall outside one of the briefing rooms with a folder tucked beneath one arm and several pages spread out in his hands. To a casual observer he looked deeply focused.
Sam knew better.
Daniel only looked that concentrated when he was translating Ancient texts or pretending to work while actually thinking about something else.
The moment he noticed the bouquet, his attention shifted completely.
His eyes widened slightly.
Then one eyebrow climbed.
Then both.
"Wow."
Sam immediately became suspicious.
"Daniel."
"What?" he asked innocently.
The innocence lasted less than a second.
His gaze dropped back to the flowers.
"Those are nice."
There was something in his tone that made her narrow her eyes.
"They're unexplained."
Daniel blinked.
"Unexplained?"
"Yes."
Sam adjusted her grip on the bouquet. The roses were beautiful—she could admit that much—but carrying them around the base was becoming increasingly awkward. Every person she'd passed had looked at them. Most had looked at her afterward. A few had smiled.
One airman had nearly walked into a door.
At this point she was beginning to feel like she was participating in some joke nobody had bothered explaining to her.
"There wasn't a note," she continued. "No indication of who sent them. They were just sitting in my lab when I got back."
Daniel's expression brightened immediately.
Not helpful.
"That's weird."
"Exactly."
She glanced down at the bouquet again.
The mystery bothered her far more than the flowers themselves. Flowers she understood. Anonymous deliveries appearing inside one of the most secure facilities in the country were another matter entirely.
She was still trying to work through the logistics of it when Daniel suddenly frowned.
"Hang on."
"What?"
He leaned forward before she could stop him.
Sam watched as he carefully parted several stems near the center of the arrangement.
A second later he pulled out a small card.
They both stared at it.
Then Sam sighed.
"Oh, come on."
Daniel's grin widened.
"You missed it."
"Thank you, Daniel."
"You're welcome."
She took the card from him and flipped it open.
The moment she saw the cover, she froze.
Then blinked.
Then looked again.
"A Simpsons Valentine's card?"
Daniel immediately looked away.
Not subtly.
Not casually.
The man practically threw his gaze at the opposite wall.
Sam narrowed her eyes.
Slowly.
"Daniel."
"I don't know anything."
"You know exactly who sent these."
"I don't know exactly."
"Daniel."
He sighed.
The guilty kind.
The kind that answered the question before he'd even spoken.
"Okay, I might have a guess."
"A guess."
"A very educated guess."
Sam stared at him.
Daniel stared very determinedly at a nearby fire extinguisher.
The silence lasted several seconds.
Long enough for the answer to become painfully obvious.
There were not many people she knew who would pair an expensive bouquet of roses with a Simpsons card.
In fact, there was exactly one.
To her immense annoyance, she felt the corners of her mouth threaten to rise.
She refused to allow it.
Mostly.
Behind them, hidden badly behind a support pillar, Siler felt his remaining optimism begin a rapid and irreversible decline.