Morning! Too much caffeine again, tried to sleep but couldn't, so here's a
fic!

Disclaimer: don't own, no money, yadda yadda.

Category: Vignette. HR: H&J, J&J, DBN, and Angst? Someone on the committee
tell me if that's right.

Warning: lightly lemon scented, nothing serious, probably not really worth
mentioning. 

Emrald Eyes.
by LesliWeird

	Hadji Singh relished in the feel of the cool evening air brushing freely
against his skin. He had told them he needed a walk. It wasn't far from the
truth.
	He needed to walk as far away from Jessie's happy smile as he could. 
	He could begrudge Jonny nothing. The younger boy had always been his best
friend, at times his only friend, and he loved him more than he could ever
imagine loving anyone.
	Except her. Maybe it was because she was so much like Jonny; alive, sparkling
with a careless joy for life. The way her eyes shone. He could feel his skin
tingle and his steps grow light. 
	She was happy with Jonny. That was all that mattered. She was happy.
	No matter how many times Hadji repeated that same soothing mantra, nothing
dulled the pain he felt at seeing her svelte body curled, sleeping in Jonny's
lap, or seeing the smile, the perfect white smile that she only gave to Jonny.
Hadji could feel the beginnings of tears in his eyes and his mind scanned
desperately for some distraction, something, anything else to think about. He
faltered on, until he found himself in a tree-speckled park. Gliding in his
misery, he followed a narrow gravel path to a small ornamental bridge across a
gentle, babbling brook. 
	The bridge was white, and in the fading sunlight the base concrete took on
the elegant sheen of marble. The water below it ran shadowy, the last light
catching in golden flecks and then vanishing completely, so that nothing
remained but the stream's gentle song, and the cool breeze.
	Hadji leaned against the bridge's railing, feeling absolutely sorry for
himself. The gentle wind curled across his neck, tracing the contours of his
shoulders down inside his shirt, and across the back that several years of
yoga had left muscled and straight. The air felt almost like a cool hand,
caressing. He stared dejectedly into the dark water and wondered if he would
ever feel a touch like that from someone warm and living. He sighed. It had
waited eighteen years, there was no reason it could not wait a little longer.
	He was still staring into the water when a voice behind him called his name.
	Hadji whipped around, startled. Before him stood a young woman, about his own
age. Long hair, dark as the stream traced the edges of her luminous face, and
her lips were full. There was something striking about her, a cloak of mystery
that made her lovely and intriguing, standing just in the dim radius of the
nearest lamp. The shadows painted her like a human canvas, only adding to her
mystique. Her clothes were dark and nondescript; a simple skirt and a sweater
to ward off the cold. By herself, she was shrouded in dark allure, but her
eyes made her beautiful, sparkling like distant green torches in the night. 
	"Hadji?" she asked again, her voice carrying gently as the breeze that was
still inside his shirt. "Hadji Singh?"
	He swallowed hard, realizing he had been staring at her. "Yes?" he replied,
his misery vanishing like the sun. The only light now came from the mounted
lights on either side of the bridge. He hoped the inadequate light would hide
the deep magenta blush on his dark cheeks for the way he had been looking at
her.
	She only smiled. 
	"You don't remember me, do you, Hadji?"
	He had to admit he could not. As beautiful as she was, he could not remember
ever having seen her before in his life. Certainly he could never have
forgotten this girl, though. The wind tugged at him, tickling at his chest
under his shirt. 
	Something about her was familiar. Something in her eyes.
	He stammered, wracking his brain for some answer to give her other than no.
Her smile was almost amused and she took a few graceful steps toward him.
	"I remember you," she whispered.
	Hadji didn't remember her moving again, but somehow he found her with her
arms draped across his shoulders and her head gently fitted into the niche
between his shoulder and his neck. He could feel her warmth and with each
breath he took in her scent. He felt almost drunk, and the image of Jessie
faded by the moment in his mind, replaced by...by what? 
	The girl was so familiar, but he couldn't place her face, no matter how hard
he tried. And his will to try, to do anything but wrap his arms around her and
drink her in, was eroding quickly. He must know her. There was no other
explanation. Her slender hand glided slowly up the back of his neck, sending
tingles through his entire body. Her fingers deftly found the crucial knot in
his turban and worked it loose so subtlety he scarcely felt it until the white
fabric began to unwind. He looked down into her face, only to find her green
eyes looking up into his. Something in those eyes spoke in a distant whisper
of a predator; a wolf in the night. 
	For an instant the protective image of Jessie came to his mind, stabbing like
an icy knife. In that single brief flash, he could see fire in those emerald
eyes. Fire, hunger, and frustration, like a cat, bitten by a cornered mouse.
Without a word she stood on her toes, and slid up Hadji to his lips. 
	Her kiss obliterated the image before with a haze that he found his mind
welcoming like an old friend. He knew her, but he couldn't remember, couldn't
think. Something primal stirred inside of him. His perceptions dimmed and he
could feel nothing but her warm, soft lips, and the tips of her fingers
sliding gently inside the neck of his shirt.
	He knew her now. The fog clouding his mind revealed her as surely as the sun.
"Elise". Whatever her true name was, he might never know. No wonder he had not
recognized her face.
	He knew his enemy now, he could fight her. His mind and body were trained as
a precise machine. He could stop her.
	"I love you," she whispered, hardly drawing her face from his. He could feel
her breath on his cheeks.
	Love?
	Something even deeper stirred inside of him. A deep lonely void yawned up in
his soul. Who in the world had ever loved him? a sweet voice inside his head
asked. Suddenly the cold of the night around him was the cold of Calcutta, in
the monsoon. He could feel the rain and the wind in the darkness, huddled in
an alley, hungry and alone. The memory hit him with a force he had never known
it possessed. A sea of strangers faces assailed him from every angle. Angry
and anonymous, they shoved his tiny form like a tattered doll. For ten years
he had worked to overcome the despair of those days and nights and suddenly
they crashed down on him like a wretched wave.
	He could see his family too. No, they had never been his family. Jonny had a
nightmare and his father held him and crooned a lullaby. Hadji's dream had
been worse, he knew, but he silently watched his adoptive father tend to his
own flesh and blood. Jonny came first. It was his place.
	Jonny? Surely Jonny loved him. They were the best of friends, almost
brothers.
	Images of Jonny flooded painfully into his mind. In every mental frame, he
smiled, almost mockingly, confident and triumphant. And in every vicious
snapshot his arms snaked around Her. They came as Hadji had seen them, from
the corner, shoved aside, unneeded and alone.
	"Elise" had stepped back from him, leaving only the cool wind in her wake.
Hadji felt naked with his long hair unbound and falling across the night air
and across his shoulders. Her eyes focused on his, entirely on him. Her smile
was warm and inviting, and he felt small and alone. He took a tentative step
toward the petite body she had made her home, and her hand cupped his cheek.
	"I love you," she whispered again. No one in his life had ever said that to
him. His mind reeled in a heavy cloud, and she was a single beacon of light,
warm, caring. He could almost feel her on the tips of his fingers. 
	No. He had to fight this. This wasn't what he wanted.
	You don't want to be loved? her voice purred demurely in the back of his
mind. He could feel the blood rise in his cheeks, up to meet her delicate
hand. The sensation was almost painfully beautiful, as was her voice: I think
you are mistaken.
	This isn't real, he pleaded. I have no choice. This isn't love. He pushed the
haze back, regaining himself a little. Suddenly he could see a pair of perfect
green eyes. Not "Elise's" but Jessie's. Her smile danced on the outskirts of
the fog and his own words crashed back to him. I have no choice.
	He had no choice as to whether he loved Jessie either.
	"I love you," the succubus whispered again, her small hand tracing through
his dark hair and across his neck. In every inch of his skin he could feel a
tingling sensation and somewhere inside he could feel the sincerity,
illusionary though it might be, warming him in a way he had never before felt.
	And you do have a choice, her sanguine voice cooed. A hard, lonely, loveless
reality...
	The waves crashed back against him with full force. The faces of his friends
and family suddenly mirroring the Calcutta strangers, uncaring and unfamiliar,
even Jessie's.
	...or love...
	Love?
	He looked down, searching her eyes and he saw it. Love. He felt it in her
touch. His entire body lightened. He was loved.
	But it wasn't real.
	Did it matter?
	In his mind he could see the crowds shoving by, and the warm, sheltering haze
that obscured all but the two of them.
	He looked into the green jewels of her eyes one last time. 
	Then closed his own to kiss her.

Fin.
 
Yeah yeah, sucks, I know, I really shouldn't even have posted it, it was
against my better judgement... What do you want from me at 5 am? 
Any suggestions on style, polish, or dramatic movement highly appreciated. As
in please? 

<sigh>
LesliWeird

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