Crichton looks up, and rage and sadness fight for control of his face for a few moments before he just looks confused and tired.

"Aeryn?"

He looks up at her and slowly stands up.

"Aeryn?"

He stands there, his mouth hanging open for a few seconds, dumfounded, and then puts a hand on her shoulder, partly to feel if she's there, and partly to touch her, to be close to her again. And then it dawns on him he should ask.

"It's you, right? Your name isn't Bettina Fairchild or something?"