Neighborly Concern
Summary: Is the name Samantha somehow synonymous with busybody neighbors? It's certainly the case for one Samantha Carter.
Spoilers: Ascension, just barely
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
AN: My first real fic, ladies and gentlemen! This was quite obviously inspired by Bewitched, and you might just find a reference to The Sound of Music. I'm thinking this might be the start of a continuing story filled with wacky hijinks.
Gladys was in the den reading when she heard it. She raced to the window, peaked through the blinds, and glanced across the street to see an old silver car settle beside the curb. A tall, lanky blonde figure climbed out, and Gladys practically jumped with joy when she saw the woman walk to the trunk. Maybe there was a body stuffed in there. She wouldn't put it past Samantha Carter.
She had always known something was off about that girl. She didn't have a husband, and Gladys was pretty sure she couldn't cook. Many times she had seen the thrown out remains of something that must have started as edible but ended up charred beyond recognition (and no, she had not been snooping through her neighbor's garbage, she was just concerned for the girl's well-being). It was no wonder she was so skinny; she probably never ate a decent meal. Gladys reminded herself to bring the will-o'-the wisp a pan of her world famous tuna casserole.
Samantha also worked not one, but two typically male jobs at that mountain. She was a military officer and some kind of scientist, a physicist or something (whatever it was, it required a lot of math, and Gladys knew females didn't have much of a head for figures).
She rode around on motorcycles, wore her hair short, and, maybe worst of all, she insisted on being called Sam. It was all completely unladylike, and call her old-fashioned, but Gladys didn't like to see such a sweet girl waste her life away. Maybe she's one of those homosexuals. The girl was pretty and smart as a whip to boot, so why else wouldn't she be married?
Gladys then recalled the numerous times she had overheard Samantha baby talking the flowers in her small garden (and despite her husband's claims, she was not eavesdropping, she simply happened to be outside tending her own garden whenever her neighbor was doing the same). Well, maybe she's just not right in the head. That would explain the lack of a husband and a lot of her odd behavior.
Samantha was gone for weeks at a time, and when she did come home, it was often limping and covered with scrapes and bruises. Gladys couldn't see the danger in working in a mountain, but somehow Samantha Carter managed to find it. Perhaps she's been lying about her job. Maybe she's an undercover agent for some secret organization. Is Samantha even her real name? She'd have to sniff around for more information. Maybe she could catch her in a lie.
Her suspicion that something was very wrong was confirmed just the other week. When she had seen Samantha with a handsome young man, she assumed that the girl had finally done herself good and gotten a boyfriend. However, when the black vans with tinted windows showed up outside her neighbor's house she quickly corrected that assessment. Samantha and that man must have been in cahoots together. Maybe she's a drug dealer or a terrorist. Or a counterfeiter. Whatever it was, normal people didn't have uniformed men with guns showing up at their houses and going through their things.
Now that Gladys thought about it, before those men had shown up she had seen Samantha in her house. She never saw her leave, even after the men left, but several hours later she saw her exhausted looking neighbor unlocking her front door (and Gladys had most certainly not been staked out on the porch all night following that fiasco, she just had a bad case of insomnia and was in the mood for a little stargazing). Gladys suddenly had an odd idea. Maybe she's a witch! No, no. It would certainly explain the disappearing act, but it was awfully outlandish. You silly, old bitty.
She was shaken out of her reminiscing by the sound of a trunk slamming shut, and she couldn't repress a giddy squawk. However, it transformed into a sigh of disappointment when all she saw was a bag over Samantha's shoulder. Not nearly big enough to fit a dead body. The blonde's head bobbed up, and she smiled and gave a little wave. Gladys quickly dropped her hand from the blinds and backed away.
Well, maybe Samantha Carter wasn't a witch, but there was certainly something strange going on with her. Whatever it was, Gladys was determined to find out the truth.