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John found Aeryn sitting on the floor of the terrace, her arms hugging her knees, staring out at the stars. She never said a word but he knew by the way she suddenly tensed that she knew he was there. Slowly he approached her, and then dropped his heart-shaped letter on her lap. "Happy Valentine's Day, Aeryn." He backed away, but did not leave.

When she didn't move, he finally said, "Well, aren't you going to read it?"

"Please, just leave me alone, Crichton," she said.

"Not until you read that." His voice betrayed his nervousness.

Finally, she turned at looked at him, her eyes filled with angry hurt and deep pain. He just met her glare steadily. "Not until you read that, Aeryn," he repeated.

She grabbed the piece of parchment roughly, rolling her eyes at him over its strange shape. Then she let her eyes drop to read what he had written.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways,
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday?s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and  with my childhood?s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,
I shall but love better after death. 2

When she had finished reading the poem, she asked, "You wrote this?"

"No, I didn't. It was another poem we had to memorize in school. But I wish I could have written it for you." Her eyes flew to his. "It says everything I feel about you, better than I ever could." He moved closer to her. "So do you still want me to leave?"

He stood holding his breath. At her almost imperceptible headshake, he came closer to kneel in front of her. "I'm sorry about the last couple of days. It seems that several letters fell into the wrong hands."

"I know," she said, "Pilot explained it to me."

"Then what's wrong?"

She looked at him, her eyes bright with tears. "Me. You. Us. This. Everything. I should have trusted you when I saw you with Chiana, but you make me feel things I've never felt before. The only thing that is familiar to me is anger, so I got angry with you." A tear spilled over and ran down her cheek. "I want to feel these things," she said, indicating the poetry on the valentine. "But I don't know how." She let her head drop.

John slipped over to sit beside her on the floor. He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her head down onto his shoulder. He let his hand trail up and down her arm, in soft caresses.They sat like that for sometime, watching the stars. Finally, sensing her eyes on him, he looked down at her. "Let me teach you then, Aeryn. That's what Valentine's Day is for," he said as he lowered his lips to hers.

FIN

1. George Gordon, Lord Byron
2. Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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