A/N: Drabble, drabble, drabble. This one has been assaulting my brain. I don't know - I guess getting back into writing my chapter fic has made me fixate on these two. Maya should have been in AJ. Maybe she was, and we just didn't see ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own either of these characters. If I did, they would be married with six kids. (Six! Dang Phoenix! Calm down there son!)

This drabble takes place during GS4 and fits nicely into my head-canon , although a little sad. But then again, what good love story isn't tinged with sadness?


The street is crowded, but he can still see her just ahead.

Hair as black as midnight and as smooth as silk shines in the sunlight but a few feet in front of him. Almost close enough to touch. He reaches out, hoping to feel the silken strands beneath his fingertips. She is just out of reach.

Always, just out of reach.

He blinks. She is gone.

He pushes through the crowds, willing his legs to move faster, faster, faster. He needs to catch her. She can't get away again.

People around him push and shove.

Hundreds.

Thousands.

Pushing him back like an angry tide. He manoeuvres around them.

Ducking.

Weaving.

Excuse me.

Please! Excuse me!

Frustration boils with in him. Urgency.

Faceless strangers with their deprecating stares. They will not help him. Only condemn. Forever condemn.

How quickly people change. He used to mean something to them. A hero. They forget so quickly.

A distinct flash of purple ahead catches his eye. He knows that purple. That's 'her purple'. It stands out dramatically against the muted grey hues of the drones blocking his path.

He hears her laugh. The sound is somehow audible above the noise of the crowd. It's lilting, musical. The melody reverberates through his entire body.

He moves faster. Following. Finally gaining ground. She turns.

Dark eyes regard him questioningly. Long lashes drift downwards. An innocent smile graces perfect pink lips.

The crowd closes in.

She is gone again.

He frowns.

No!

His anguished cry is ignored by the people surrounding him. Always judging. Never caring. They never once try to help. He used to help them. It was his life.

Suddenly, the crowd disappears. He finds himself in the hallway of his apartment. Darkness envelops him.

He knows she is here. He can sense her.

Relief floods through him as delicate fingers graze across his bare shoulders. His skin burns with the contact.

He turns quickly, expecting to see her, but he is alone.

She laughs again. He turns in her direction, savouring the sound he loves so much.

She leans against the door frame of his bedroom. Her eyes lock with his as the corner of her mouth turns up in an almost suggestive smile. His heart pounds in his chest.

This woman excites him.

He takes a step forward, refusing to blink in the fear that she will disappear again. He will not take his eyes off her again.

But she does not disappear this time. His hands reach out, this time finally finding what they have been searching for.

He has longed for her. His heart sings.

She is soft.

Smooth.

Perfect.

Her alabaster skin almost glows in the moonlight. She is breathtaking. But best of all, she is his.

When he touches her, nothing else exists. Nothing else matters.

This spark between them. It's electric. He knows there will never be anyone else.

Her laughter reverberates once more in his ears. He smiles and opens his eyes. He already knows how this ends.

She is gone.

He has had this dream many times before.

Always.

Always when she leaves.

He wakes to find himself alone, the faint scent of her vanilla perfume still lingers lightly on his sheets and his skin.

He reaches out and gingerly traces the spot where her lithe body lay only hours before. She arrives under the shroud of darkness and is gone before he wakes. It's always the same routine.

She says she hates goodbyes. That he looks peaceful in his sleep. She can't bear to wake him. She doesn't know of the dreams where he frantically tries to reach her.

The dreams where the world gets in their way.

These fleeting midnight meetings are all they have, he a disgraced shell of his former self and she, the leader of her people. They would never allow her to be seen with a man of his reputation.

She says she doesn't care. That she loves him anyway.

He believes her.

He closes his eyes again, and repeats the same silent prayer. His mantra. He has wished for it a thousand times.

Today will be the day that he clears his name.

Then she can return to him, this time forever.


A/N: She will. I promise. My head-canon deems it so.

Also, just to clarify, she was there. He always dreams of her after she leaves.