A/N: No real plot, but I just thought it'd be nice to write this one down.

Vicki sat on her couch, a glass of scotch in one hand, the other resting on her lap. She had decided against doing anything tonight, opting instead to stay in, alone, and pretend that there was nothing different about that particular night. Coreen had tried to goad her into having a girly night in, but Vicki just wanted to relax; she didn't think a distraction of that kind would be helpful. Of course, the word 'girly' would put her off almost any suggestion that came afterward. She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose then taking a sip of the whiskey. Henry hadn't shown up the night before, and she was fairly sure he'd be off somewhere wining and dining his skinny, perfect-hair-and-makeup dinner menu. She found herself thinking about him taking some random girl back to his bed, but finding the thought too repulsive she pushed it to the back of her mind. Downing the rest of the scotch, she decided to just call it a night. She took a quick shower then headed to bed.

xXxXxXx

"Vicki?" She grunted and rolled away from the source of the noise. Upon feeling something touch her face her eyes shot open and she instinctively reached for her asp.

"Vicki, it's ok, it's me." Henry's voice was quiet and reassuring. He had learned a thing or two about waking heavy sleepers in his time and had the good sense to do it gently.

"Henry? What are you doing here? What time is it?" she grumbled, still not entirely awake. She rubbed her eyes, trying to speed up the return to full consciousness. "What are you doing here?"

He chuckled softly and she felt a weight lift off the side of her bed. She remembered she had a lamp, so decided to use it. Henry blinked away the tears caused by the sudden light hitting his sensitive eyes.

"You should get dressed. I want you to come somewhere with me."

Vicki sat up and put on her glasses. Her brows drew down in confusion. Was she supposed to be doing something with him tonight? She didn't remember any plans, and she hadn't had any night-time cases this week so it couldn't be that…Nevertheless she did as instructed, throwing on a pair of jeans, a fitted red v-neck jumper and a pair of black boots. She ran a brush quickly through her hair, then joined him in the other room.

"Where are we going?" He smiled serenely at her, obviously enjoying her confusion.

"If I told you, it would spoil the surprise." He held up her jacket to help her into it, then handed her her bag. They left, Henry taking Vicki's arm like a true gentleman and leading her off into the night.

xXxXxXx

He guided her carefully through the brush. She was becoming a little irate at this point, they had walked a long way and she was none too pleased. After the hundredth complaint he picked her up, and carried her, flung over his shoulder. They appeared to be moving into a clearing, at least from what Vicki could see upside-down.

"We have arrived. If I put you down do you think you could manage the last few yards?"

"Yeah, sure, why not. You know if you're kidnapping me or something Coreen will kick your ass…" He put her down, as promised, and turned her around. When she took in the scene she couldn't help but gasp.

Hundreds of candles, all shapes and sizes were placed around the secluded grove, making it bright enough for her to see clearly. In the centre a tartan rug and some red pillows lay on the ground.

"What is this?"

"It's your Valentine's Day date. I knew you hadn't made plans and felt it was a shame that such a beautiful woman was going to shut herself away for the night."

Her mouth was slightly ajar. She was so overwhelmed by the beauty of the scene and the gesture she had no idea what to say.

"Henry…" She looked up at him, unable to say any more.

"Come, sit down. I have brought some refreshments I'm sure you'll approve of." Her reaction was more than he had expected. He had thought she'd pull the usual 'tough chick' act, but instead she seemed genuinely appreciative.

They sat on the big cushions and Henry produced a bottle of rosé champagne and rich dark chocolates. He poured her a glass of the sparkling rosé and she took a chocolate. She didn't think she'd tasted anything as nice in a very long time. He surveyed the beauty that sat opposite him, taking his own delight from seeing her so contented. She noticed him gazing at her.

"What?" He laughed at her reaction. She had absolutely no idea how amazing she was to him.

"What?!" She asked louder. Why was he staring at her like that?

"Nothing, Vicki. I'm just glad you're enjoying this."

She rolled her eyes and placed her champagne flute carefully on the ground.

"Fitzroy, I swear…Do I have chocolate on my face or something?" She rubbed at her lips, trying to ascertain if that was the reason.

He could do nothing but laugh at her wiping near frantically at non-existent chocolate. Before he could get out of the way a cushion hit him hard on the shoulder.

"Vicki!" He grinned at her, she herself was trying not to laugh.

"Tell me what you were staring at, or I'll do it again! Is my hair poofy? What is it?!" She was laughing a little, but was still frustrated with him. He desperately tried to hold in the laughter and, having lost the battle, had to dodge another attack from the cushion as a consequence.

"Tell me!" She demanded, giggling at the part-bemused, part-amused look on his face.

He dodged the third attack and, quick as lightning, was on top of her, pinning her down. She gasped at the sudden body contact with him, and both had instantly come through their fits of laughter.

"Are you going to stop throwing things at me?" He asked, his voice low and quiet.

"Well I couldn't now even if I wanted to. Truce?" He let her get up but sat directly beside her now.

"Do you really want to know what I was looking at?"

"Yeah!" She exclaimed, patting her hair down.

"I was looking at you."

"Well duh!"

"I was looking at you," he tried again, the emphasis on the words indicating she shouldn't interrupt, "because I couldn't believe how lucky I am to be here with such an amazing, beautiful woman."

Her eyes widened. Why couldn't it just have been her messy eating?

"You don't have to say anything; I know you're not good with…mushy stuff." He smiled, almost shyly, then turned his attention to her quarter-full glass. He refilled it, busying himself. When he turned back to her it was knocked out of his hand as he was thrown backward. This time he was the one pinned to the rug. Before he had time to register what had happened warm lips were pressed against his and he understood. She couldn't say anything, couldn't tell him how touched she was that he had set this all up for her, wasn't able to express how special he had made her feel, that much they both understood. Instead, she was going to show him.