3 | ArHi FF: Resistance | COMPLETE | PAGE 74 | UPDATED 2/6 - Page 32

He pushed through the crowd roughly, his line of vision blocked by the horde of people. He growled in frustration as he came up against a wall, stumbling into the person in front of him. The man turned around, fixing him with a furious glare before turning back.

There were people all around him, screaming and chanting in a cacophonous rhythm, their fists thrust into the air in a powerful punch. The grime stuck to his face, his white shirt sticking to his skin in the sweltering heat made worse by the thickening crowd.

He was frantic, roughly pushing past people as he snaked his way through.

Where the hell was she?

He had come out in a rush, intending to find her. She had slammed the door as she left, her eyes red with angry tears as she stormed out. Her voice had been hoarse as she had bit out the words, her eyes sparking with fury.

He could feel the steady pump of anger in his veins, infuriated that she had left.

She was so goddamned stubborn.

Didn't she understand? Didn't she understand that she could die?

He could feel the blood pounding in his brain, the curling fear in his stomach.

He was terrified that he wouldn't be able to save her.

If she was caught this time, he knew she would be...

No!

Fear clenched around his heart sharply, a chill settling over him.

Why didn't she understand? She had jumped to conclusions, not even bothering to see that he was worried about her, not insulting this stupid movement.

He ignored the little voice in his head that reminded him that this was his fault too. There was no way to clap with one hand.

"I lost my friend to this movement, I lost him and I couldn't save him!"

He slowed, allowing himself to be taken with the crowd. He glanced at the person standing next to him. The young man had dark skin and deep brown eyes, his entire body shaking with energy. Arnav could see the pride in his eyes as his mouth moved to form the words, the defiance in his stance.

He couldn't be more than 18.

He looked around. The sea of people began to distinguish itself for the first time, becoming a collection of individuals instead of a formless mass. He could see the same fire in the eyes of every single person, the reckless determination that was so necessary for the success of a movement like this.

It was the same fire he had seen in Khushi's eyes.

He had seen that same pride reflected there, in her. He knew that look that appeared in her, the fierce, unapologetic disregard for the British. There was no place left for fear, the emotion drowned in passion and determination for this.

They were here of their own will, fighting for what they believed in.

She had come here because she wanted to.

She wanted to be here, he realized.

These were her people, the ones that were willing to do anything for freedom.

Even when anything was their life.

They didn't care that India was run over by corruption and inefficiency. They didn't care that they fell behind, that famine and poverty were rampant. It didn't matter that India was a land that was bound to clash, that there were too many cultures to ever make it work.

"We've ruled ourselves for thousands of years successfully. Yes, we have a lot of languages- but each language reflects the personality, the culture of the people that speak it. India is beautiful because of its diversity."

Her words from when they had first met came back to him. The memory of the glowing pride in her eyes was clear.

They didn't care.

They thrived on it, this was theirs.

It didn't matter to them that the British could give them better, could make this better.

To them, this was the best.

It was almost contagious, their passion for what they loved.

Hadn't he been the same way?

He had been, when he had stepped onto that ship that steamed its way to London. He had felt this same passion, this same energy for what he loved, for the potential of being his own person and making something of himself.

Just like they wanted to make something of this country.

There wasn't much difference between them and him.

He looked around at the wave of people, crushing him from all sides. They were no longer a clump of people, but a group of individuals that believed.

He huffed in frustration, gritting his teeth as he stumbled again. He slowed to a stop as the crowd moved around him. He could see nothing but an endless stream of people, pushing and shoving as their khadi stained with dust.

Where would she be?

He attempted to catch his breath, glancing around. He squinted. Far off in the distance, he could see the beginning of the crowd.

Khushi was one of the leaders, wasn't she?

She would be at the front.

It looked so far away, a sea of people in front of him. It was overwhelming. He couldn't glimpse the end of it, the street stretching to fit the swelling crowd. His heart hammered against his chest.

Khushi!

He hadn't realized when he had said it aloud, his scream swallowed by the crowd. He could feel himself trembling, his mind completely blank as he was pushed forward in the mess with a single objective. He couldn't see anything as he was taken with the crowd.

He had to find her.

"Khushi!"

He tried again, his voice a croak. He braced himself against those around him. He twisted around, trying to escape the mass of people suffocating him. He could feel the panic gripping him.

He couldn't lose her. He couldn't lose her.

Suddenly, the noise began to die down, fading away. He could see the dark uniforms creeping slowly into the crowd. His eyes darted around, catching them slipping in from the side, their faces set tightly. His heart thudded uneasily against his chest as they increased in numbers.

His breath stopped when he saw the weapons in their hands. They were dark spots in the distance, their uniforms contrasting with the white khadi of the protesters.

They regarded each other warily. The anticipation in the air was thick, peace hanging by a dangerously thin thread. There was an uneasy quiet as they stared at the stone faced policemen, almost afraid to breathe.

"Quit India."

The refrain that had become their inspiration was almost inaudible, but the immediate stiffening of the policemen revealed they had heard it. Their grips tightened on their batons as they scanned the crowd, looking for the person who had said it.

"Quit India!"

This time it came louder, the chants coming more quickly as voices crested to a crescendo. Anger simmered beneath the surface, and the policemen moved forward, trying to intimidate them.

The police officers forced their way through, batons raised high. The chants grew to a roar, and Arnav found himself unable to see through the sudden rush of people, scattering as the police swung their batons.

"Khushi!"

He shoved himself through, not caring that his once pristine white shirt was covered in dust. His desperation slammed against his ribcage as he looked wildly around, scanning the crowd. The mass thinned as he pushed closer to the edge.

There.

He knew it was her, the tight bun coming loose as wisps of hair fell out. Her head was held high, the pallu of her sari tucked neatly at her waist. He could see the glimmer of anger mixed with determination in her eyes as she jutted her chin out defiantly, daring them to confront her as she chanted, her voice echoing into the crowd.

Relief swept through him. He felt his lips form a prayer of gratitude as he moved towards her, needing to touch her, to make sure she was okay.

He would stand with her, today, if he knew she was okay.

"Khushi!"

His voice was hoarse as he called out, exhausted from the yelling. He saw her freeze in her place as people swarmed around her, turning to look around. She caught his gaze, and her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Arnav?"

She looked so baffled to see him, not even remotely bothered. His temper sparked, infuriated with her.

Didn't she realize how much she had worried him?

He stalked up to her, grabbing her by the wrist as she slammed against his chest. Anger coursed through him, as she twisted her hand in his grip. She flinched under his furious gaze, her eyes darting about.

"Kahan thi tum? Pata hai kitna pareshaan tha main?"

He shook her, his heart pumping furiously against his chest. Her lashes swept up to meet his gaze, clearly stunned.

"I told you I was-"

"I don't care! Do you even know what I'm going through right now? I was so scared, damnit, what if something had happened to you?!"

He yelled. There was fear in his eyes as he shoved her hands away. They fell to her sides, her eyes still watching him in surprise. He huffed, running his hand over his face.

"We're going home. Now."

"No! I am not going-"

He gave her a warning glare, grabbing her wrist as he pulled her through the crowd. He could feel her struggling and then she wrenched her hand out of his grip. He whirled around, but she stepped back, shaking her head.

"I'm not leaving!"

"Khushi, don't-"

He reached out for her, but felt himself being jerked back, his hand twisted behind him as grimy fingers encased his wrist, cutting him off.

He saw her eyes widen in horror as she caught a glance of the person behind him. She shook her head, her mouth opening in a scream.

He felt a strange sense of calm knowing that she was okay as he anticipated the blow, ducking his head down and covering it with his hands in an attempt to protect it as it went black.

She watched as Arnav collapsed to the ground, curling into fetal position. She felt her heart stop, panic clutching her as fear clawed at her stomach.

No.

She wouldn't let them do that to Arnav.

She wouldn't lose another person she loved.

She didn't feel the tears running down her face as she strode forward, tugging at the police officer's shirt, yelling at him to let go, her voice growing hoarse. She could hear herself in the distance, her sharp scream sounding foreign to her own ears.

Fire lit within her as she kicked and screamed, pulling fruitlessly at the uniformed man who had hit Arnav.

She could feel his grip around her wrist and wrenched it out, turning to avoid the blow of the lathi as it hit her shoulder. She sunk to the ground beside Arnav, pushing away the eerie feeling that she had been here before, cradling the head of a person she loved.

His mouth was slightly parted, his hair falling loosely in his face as his head lolled back in her lap. She shook him lightly, his name on her lips even as the people raged around her, stampeding past. He didn't wake, his limp hand in hers as she shook him again, his name becoming a desperate plea.

"Arnav."

His face blurred in her vision as she cupped his cheeks gently, hot tears splashing on his skin. She hiccuped, a painful burn spreading through her chest.

"Arnav, wake up. Arnav, please."

She couldn't lose him.

"Don't leave me, Arnav."

A sob spilled from her lips as she cradled his head.

"Arnav, I know you're there. You won't leave me, Arnav, I- I know you won't. W-wake up please."

She paused, drawing a shuddering breath.

"Please, Arnav."

Her words were a mere whisper as her head fell forward, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

She heard a faint groan of pain through the haze of her tears, the body in her arms stirring. Her breath came in harsh gasps as she looked down at him, blinking to clear her blurred vision as the tears fell.

"Arnav? Arnav, can you hear me?"

She shook him more forcefully, a sob of relief escaping her as she glimpsed the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He moaned again, his cheek resting against her palm as his face contorted in pain.

"It hurts."

He said. His voice was a throaty whisper, his eyes fluttering as he drifted back into unconsciousness. She felt her chest heaving as the tears came rushing back, staining his shirt. She glanced around, looking for someone, anyone to help her.

She couldn't lose him. She couldn't.

Her heart tightened in fear when she looked up, glimpsing the cold eyes of the police officer. She shook her head, silently begging him to let them go as he towered over her, his jaw hard.

"Please. My husband needs help."

She clasped her hands together as his face remained expressionless, pleading with him.

"Please."

She whispered, her voice breaking.

She saw his expression shift imperceptibly before he roughly hauled her up, ignoring the faint cry of pain. He pushed her back, bending down to pick Arnav up, his gaze never wavering.

"Where is your house?"

She silently pointed him in the direction, walking quickly as the officer pushed through the crowd with Arnav in his arms.

*********

She sat by his side, staring at his pale face numbly. She could see the purplish bruises beginning to darken around his arms. She watched the nearly imperceptible rise and fall of his chest.

She closed her eyes, unable to fight the wave of painful memories that flooded her mind.

A chill slithered through her body, goosebumps erupting on her skin.

She felt herself being transformed into a terrified sixteen year old girl, standing in the middle of the market as a man delivered blow after blow to her father, the tomatoes lay smashed on the ground.

Her body trembled, the tears stinging at her lids. She could hear the loud crack, her father crumbling to the ground.

"Papa!"

She could feel her father's limp grip in her hands as she begged the man to stop, cradling his head in her arms. Her chest felt heavy, pressing against her ribcage.

"Stop it! Stop, please stop! Bhaisaab, don't hit him, please, we were just getting vegetables!"

The police officer ignored her screams. She tried to step between them but was quickly pushed back, her voice growing hoarse as she continued to cry, begging him to stop.

She gulped down air as a sob shook her, the tears sliding down her cheeks.

No. No, no.

She didn't know when the word had started to spill from her lips like a chant as she looked down at Arnav's lifeless face.

"Papa? Papa! Papa, please, you'll be okay right?"

She had shook him, waiting for the familiar, deep throated laughter. Any moment now he would wake up and tickle her, tell one of his trademark bad jokes.

He would wake up.

He had to.

Who would make her jalebis otherwise?

Who would protect her from Mama when she was angry, sneak her an extra poori?

"Papa wake up please, wake up! Papa! Why aren't you responding, Papa? Please talk to me."

Ashok Uncle had gently pulled her away as her mother had stared blankly at her father's lifeless body.

"He's gone, Khushi."

"He's not! Papa will wake up, he'll wake up to see me! He's not dead Uncle, he's not dead. He promised me we would make jalebis together, he isn't dead Uncle, he isn't dead."

She had kicked and screamed as they had taken him away, even as Ashok had pulled her to him, rocking her gently back and forth as he murmured soothingly, ignoring the tears that streamed down his own cheeks.

She shook Arnav, her vision blurring as she begged him to wake up. Her voice was broken by heaving sobs, her throat aching from the gulping breaths.

Arnav would wake up. She needed him.

She searched for his heart, needing to feel the steady thud of his pulse against her fingers. His skin was cool to the touch. He had slipped in and out of consciousness in the last half an hour, moaning out in pain.

She clung to the moments when he had murmured her name, seeming to know that she was there. She stared at his unresponsive, pale face, her heart sinking as she touched the side of his roughened cheek.

"Talk to me. Please talk to me."

She pleaded, taking in a shuddering breath.

"Of course mujhe faraq padtha hai, damnit! What if you die? Don't you realize that?"

His words rang in her mind, the panic in his eyes as he had grasped her shoulders.

She wished he would admonish her for going out despite his warning not to, yell at her for being so stubborn.

"Talk to me! Yell at me, damnit! Tell me I'm wrong, tell me this movement is stupid, Arnav, please yell at me, Arnav."

She begged, her voice dissolving into a cry.

This was her fault. This was all her fault.

"He told you not to go, Khushi."

Sakshi's voice cut through the haze, the door swinging shut behind her, deadly quiet. There was an eerie silence after her statement.

Khushi couldn't meet the anger in Sakshi's eyes.

"He told you that it could get dangerous, didn't he? Why didn't you listen, Khushi?! Did you have to go today? Jaana zaroori tha kya? He went after you!"

Guilt pierced Khushi sharply as Sakshi's words sliced through her. She flinched, avoiding her gaze even as Sakshi walked up to her, her voice trembling with fear.

"He could be dead right now, Khushi! You could have died because of this... this resistance that you insist on beating your head against."

Khushi remained silent, unable to say anything. The guilt kept echoing in her mind, taunting her. The weight was overwhelming, pressing against her relentlessly.

This is all your fault. This is all your fault.

Sakshi took a gasping breath, wiping her tears.

"What if one of you had died, Khushi? Don't you realize that?"

"Nahi Ma! Don't say that! Please, just don't say that."

She begged, her voice cracking. She couldn't take another reminder of his mortality, another reminder of what if she hadn't been there when the blow had struck, what if the officer hadn't stopped.

What if Arnav had succumbed as her father had- no!

She couldn't think that way, she wouldn't.

He was alive.

Sakshi regarded her quietly, closing her eyes in pain. She drew her face into a determined mask of serenity, giving her a sad smile.

"I hope you at least understand now, Khushi."

She said quietly.

Khushi watched her retreating back, her jaw trembling as she struggled to rein in the tears that threatened to fall. She could hear the faint thud of Ashok's walking stick as he limped slowly out of the room.

The shuffle of his feet paused and she heard him turn around.

"Sometimes, the most difficult lessons have the gravest consequences, Khushi."

He said, sighing heavily. The thud of his walking stick faded away, leaving her with nothing but silence.

*********

She woke with a start at the low groan, jumping up from her place by his side. She could see his dull, caramel eyes in the darkness as he struggled to turn, his face marred by a grimace of pain.

She immediately moved forward, easing him up until the pillow rested at an angle, elevating his head.

"Tum theek ho?"

He grunted, his head falling back against the pillow as an exhausted sigh left his body. He leaned against the blankets, his eyes half closed as his head sunk back.

"Should I bring you something? Do you want water? You haven't eaten since morning, shall I bring you food?"

"Khushi."

He muttered, groaning in pain as he tried to turn to face her.

"Here wait, let me get you some ice."

"No, don't leave."

He leaned back into the pillow, closing his eyes. She sat down next to him, running a hand over his forehead. He moved into her touch, the lines on his forehead easing under her fingers.

"Are Anju and Aman okay?"

He asked. She could hear the exhaustion in his voice as his eyes fluttered closed, his face drawn.

"They are okay. They stopped by earlier, but you were asleep."

He made a noise of understanding as calm settled over them.

Her fingers slowed. She traced the faint outline of his face, following his nose and lingering on his lips. Her head bent forward, tears sneaking out of the corners of her eyes.

"Khushi?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He stayed quiet, taking her hand in his. She looked up at him, the faded glow of the light bulb reflected in her tear filled eyes. She took a sobbing breath, a hiccup breaking from her lips.

"I'm so sorry, Arnav."

She repeated on a sob. Guilt pooled in her eyes, pinching her heart. She held herself stiffly away, trying to pull her hand out of his as she looked away. He tightened his hold, refusing to let her draw away.

"You could have died."

She choked on the word, the tears falling freely as her hand squeezed his tighter. He met her tear filled eyes, urging her to seek the solace she desperately needed in him. Her guilt broke his heart,

"But I didn't, Khushi. I'm here."

He said hoarsely, giving her a smile. She shook her head, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as her shoulders quivered with sobs.

"You could have died, Arnav."

She said more forcefully, a spark entering her eyes.

"Why did you come after me? Why did you have to come out there? You knew it was dangerous, didn't you? I could have taken care of myself. I've done this thousands of times, I know those streets like the back of my hand."

She took a shaky breath, her chest heaving with her outburst. He watched her silently, letting her get it out.

"Why the hell did you come after me, Arnav? What if you had died? What if- what if that man hadn't stopped, he had kept going like he did with Pa-Papa? What if, Arnav?"

"And what if you had died, Khushi?"

He asked quietly. Her gaze flew up to his, searching his face. Her face paled, stricken.

"What if you had died, Khushi? What if I hadn't been there, what if it had been you confronted with that police officer? What if he had started to hit you when you stepped in? What if, Khushi?"

He took a shaky breath, his throat tightening painfully.

"When Papa said they were using lathis out there, I couldn't breathe. I thought... I thought you were gone. I thought I had lost you, Khushi."

He looked away, fighting the tears that prickled at his lids. She leaned forward, cupping his face and turning it towards her. He closed his eyes, her touch comforting. Her thumb swept across his cheekbone, wiping away the tears, shaking her head.

She took a gasping breath, nuzzling her nose against his. She kissed his lips, pulling back only to kiss him again. She leaned her forehead against his, their breath mingling as she kept murmuring a phrase, broken only by kisses.

"We're here, Arnav. We didn't lose each other. We're here."