Valentine's Day is only slightly less sucky when you are too busy to think about being single.

It was something Lindsey had taken to heart by her junior year of college and just sort of accepted after that. If she just buried herself in that backlog of journal articles she'd been meaning to read in the carrel in the corner behind the last stacks in the basement of the library the whole day could safely pass without seeing any pink or red or heart-shaped things. And she wouldn't have to think about why she was never asked on any dates when there were ten men for every woman in her engineering department.

Now it was February 14th again, and Lindsey couldn't hide herself away because the Daedalus was shipping out at 1900 hours that evening.

Instead, she and Hermiod had spent hours of quality time discussing the perplexingly frivolous holiday during preflight checks. They finished at 1700, but Lindsey declined to join her few tardy crewmates heading to the Atlantis party. "I've got laundry to pick-up," she said, and email to check, she added mentally, and a thousand other things I'd rather do than choose to wallow in loneliness.

"Isn't Dr. Novak coming?"

The airmen just shook their heads, murmuring something about laundry and mousey and anti-social. When the refreshments arrived, they moved off with renewed joviality, leaving Major Lorne with a frown on his face.

This could not be happening. Here it was Valentine's Day and he had unexpectedly been sent off-world early that morning to assist another team. He hadn't been back all day and the Daedalus was leaving in fewer than two hours. It wouldn't return for another month and a half after that – and Evan hadn't seen Lindsey at all.

What was he going to do? How was he going to give her his gift? Think, think, he told himself. He felt like Pooh-bear, captivated by something he didn't understand. Perhaps because she hadn't flung herself at him like all the single nurses, or chatted his ears off like all the desperate expedition scientists. Or because she wasn't off-limits like all his female subordinates. Somewhere between escorting an extremely nervous and hiccupping Dr. Novak from the conference room and watching a fiery misunderstanding between McKay and Hermiod be defused by a supremely confident and in-her-element Lindsey, Evan had fallen for her so hard that it hurt. It hurt even more to think that he wouldn't see her for weeks and weeks, and she would leave again with no idea how he felt.

Wait, he had an idea…

Lindsey waited for the lift doors to open, and strolled out into the deserted hall. Emptiness on Atlantis was soothing. On the Daedalus there were ever-present pings and clings and that awful low-grade mechanical hum. Here there were no hums because crystalline technology doesn't hum, at least when it works properly. At most she could sense a gentle gurgling and lapping of water – it reminded Lindsey of laying absolutely still on a waterbed. Someone sat on the edge of her waterbed. Startled from her thoughts, Lindsey realized there was someone else in the laundry room.

"Hey … Doc."

"Hello, Major," she replied, stepping up next to him beside the piles of clean laundry. Quick! her brain urged, find your clothes and leave before he asks why you aren't at the party. Wait! Ask him first!

"Why aren't you at the party?" Lindsey asked casually, skimming to find her name.

"Oh, uh, had to come get my clothes sometime, you know? They keep us so busy I forget until I run out of clean stuff." Real smooth, Evan, you sound like an idiot, he reprimanded himself. "I think that's your pile," he pointed helpfully to a stack at the end of the third row.

Lindsey nodded and gathered up her folded uniforms in her arms. She gave the stacks one more scan. "I don't think your clothes are done yet. These are all scientists' blues."

"Guess so."

"Well, have a good time at the party." The engineer made her escape before the major could say anything else to her.

"Thanks… I…" Evan said to the closing door. God, he hoped she'd find it!

Back on the Daedalus, Lindsey had just set down her clothes when her radio beeped. Hermiod was calling about some minute power fluctuation. With a sigh, she headed back down the hall and within minutes, she was pulling off paneling and deck plates, covering herself in dust and grease, looking for what could be causing the anomaly.

Only four hours out did Lindsey finally get to drag herself back to her mouse-hole-sized room. The day was almost over, she felt completely, disgustingly dirty, and her mind was focused on a soapy shower and sleep.

Before she could sleep though, she had to get those clean uniforms off her bed. Lindsey scrunched her eyes with fatigue and picked up items one by one to put them away. Midway through the pile, her fingers brushed something definitely not cloth. Moving the undershirt aside, Lindsey peered at the intruding object.

A card. Lindsey flailed a hand at her bed lamp to increase the lighting and studied the card. On the front was a watercolor painting of a meadow replete with colorful wildflowers. A very tiny "E.L." was scribbled in the right bottom corner. Tentatively, she flipped open the card, not sure if she really wanted to find what she hoped was inside. Over the cardstock was the loopy, careful message of someone unaccustomed to writing in cursive.

Dear Lindsey,

I regret not being able to see more of you today.

I hope you will accept my deepest affection and this painting I made

during some downtime on my last mission.

Yours,
Evan Lorne

P.S. Happy Valentine's Day!

Yes, Lindsey thought, it finally was a happy Valentine's Day.