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Sarah crochets a little red heart. It's nothing complicated, but it doesn't need to be for Jack to appreciate it. That is something Sarah knows, and the next time they're alone together, she approaches him pleasantly and slips it in his breast pocket.
“It isn't much,” she started modestly, “but I want you to have something of mine to keep with you.”
Sarah waits eagerly for his reaction. Jack isn't a very expressive person, with about two facial expressions in total with which to gauge his moods. His eyes usually said more than he did. Or maybe that was just in Sarah's head, the uncanny way she could uncover the truth with a glance.
Jack was quiet and rather than on her face, his eyes were trained upon her hand on his chest.
“Thanks,” he whispers. He's never quite sure what to say when Sarah's involved. She's not only incredibly smart, but romantic as well. Jack doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of her, but apparently his body does that perfectly all on its own. She reached up to brush her palm over his cheek, and he was sure she could feel how crushingly warm he was despite his reservations.
“Take care of it,” Sarah said, grinning. Jack smiled back. He wanted to give her something of equal importance if they were exchanging sentimental items now, but he'd never had much of his own, let alone something he was allowed to get attached to enough to justify giving it to Sarah.
When she moved away from him, it was like a loss. The sun was coming up. Unconsciously his hand followed the criss-cross of his shirt to his pocket, tracing the outline of Sarah's heart.