Gunpoint

Summary: You are my plaything and I'm awfully irresponsible with my playthings.

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As Veer had predicted the beginning of the end comes, and it comes in the form of a bullet as Nalini Devi has instructed.

Amrit sees Farook in the sea of strangers before anyone else. The entire final leap of the race goes in anticipation of something ominously foreshadowing.

The crowd, the excitement and everything else drowns into clenching claws of fear. It is going to happen. She knows. But she has no idea what or when or how. That bothers Amrit.

Her eyes refuse to leave Veer, even as they sting with effort. There is a promise of power and strength in the way he holds himself. The raw energy that flows through him, making him one with the beast that he maneuvers, steadies and calms her. If anything Veer was in control of his surroundings, aware and alert. Nothing would take him by surprise. Nothing would defeat him from the shadows as it had done with his father.

Then her eyes turn on the crowd and she notices him. Those eyes, ridged with darkness as black as his heart are fixed upon her. They are intentful, almost as if he had summoned her gaze towards him by simply staring at her with enough will.

There's a sinister mirth there. Serpent like promise of poisoning everything. Farook watches her until Amrit feels tendrils of ice along her spine. Then his mouth twitches and his gaze shifts. Her head reels as she notices him looking towards Chandra Singh Rathod and the impeccable nod they exchange.

Briefly he glances back at her, his eyes mocking, making her think that he would be cackling inwardly at some ominous undertone she is too slow to catch. Farook turns and walks away, letting the excited crowd to swallow him whole. Stands erupt as the race comes to a close.

Rukzaar's arms wave around Amrit bringing her back to her present as Veer's mount touches the finish line, Anwar close behind - much to their mutual delight. 

From the designated stands Nalini stands up to make a show of celebrating her firstborn's victory and Chandra Singh Rathod follows, wishing her with an amicable smile.

From the guest stands Farida and her entourage stands up to make their way to the podium for post competition presentation ceremony.

Amrit sees him again then, taking an obsolete set of stairs to the right and vanishing into an unused wing of main residence. The purposeful gait of that villainous man does not sit well with her. Giving Rukzaar one last nudge towards the others Amrit turns and makes her way decisively through the crowd streaming in opposite direction, in search of the devil of her nightmares.

*

Farook cocks his gun, the smooth wood and sleek steel promising swift destruction beneath his palms. It makes him feel a thrill, he is so close to paying her back in kind; the woman who ruined his face; Amrit.

He had clung to life with that sole purpose, to ruin her the way she had ruined him. That unsettled score had brought him from the jaws of death, brought him across a country, to the company of men of means who would eventually return him all that he had and much more.

The evil within him had found purpose with Ali. His knowledge on his former country, the terrains they had to cross often had made him indispensable for Rathod's business.

Among all else it had slowly integrated him into her world.
He is still Ali's minion thirsting for recognition when he hears of Amrit first.

Of her new status.

Of her new man.

The very man who is at his gun point now. At his mercy.

Farook breathes through his open mouth, sense of power and purpose filling him. He could write destiny here, make kings fall. Just a touch of his finger on the trigger.

He watches as the trophy is presented, from the hands of a mother who wanted his son dead, to the hands of a man who will soon be a dead man. His mouth twitches at the thought.

Oh there you go princeling, raise your trinket up high. That's the last thing you will do before you go. And then your mother has promises to keep. Your wife surely has no idea what is in store for her.

There is a touch of cold against his nape. He registers it belatedly. The metal, unmistakably a barrel of a gun, presses punishing closer, right upon the pounding pulse running the length of his throat.

"Take your hand off the gun, Farook Ansari."

The voice that commands him does not belong to the girl he had once branded. Farook tries to turn on reflex but the hilt of the gun pointed on him, carved, metal and heavy comes hard down on his jaw.

"Hands off and step back," she repeats.

A mirthless chuckle escapes him.

"The princeling has been teaching you," he says jerking his head as he slowly lifts his hand off the trigger.

"My husband will not die at your hands. It is beneath him to even kill you. You bloody -"

He turns too swiftly, having advantage of countless brushes with death he fears too little for the weapon in her hands.

He doesn't expect her to pull the trigger though.

The pistol Veer had forcefully given Amrit all those days ago goes off with a bang. The recoil makes her jerk painfully, drop the gun and stumble back. The moment's advance Farook takes to shove her off his way.

With a shaking hand he wipes blood off the side of his neck where the bullet had nicked him on its way. The glass on half closed window behind him shatters as it meets the bullet.

Farook mutters a curse aimed at the woman on the floor.

"Now they will all be crawling in to see what that was about!" He spits and aims a kick at her, turning furiously to the rifle he had set up.

"Just you wait - just you wait - ek baar tu mere haat lag jaaye - ek baar yeh kaam ho jaaye -"

"Nahi!" Amrit throws at him the nearest thing she could grab which turns out to be a brass candleholder.

It shutters another glass pane. Next she throws at him a lamp shade made of crystal cut glass which shutters against him, drawing blood against his sleeve.

Farook growls, turns and grabs a handful of her hair, pulling her towards him through all the shredded glass. It crunches beneath her. Drawing her to face him, he pants against her.

"I should have carved my name on your face. Yes, that should have taught you well."

He picks out one of the larger shreds fallen off the window pane.

"Not too late yet - are we?" He snarls and then clicks his tongue. "Na. Itni aasani se nahi. Jab tu yahaan chal kar aayi hai, toh pehele - sab se pehele - you will see him die. Then we shall see what happens with you. Yes, that sounds right."

Amrit struggles against his hold on her hair as Farook drags her to the window. He raises the shred of glass in his hand and plunges it against her thigh making her scream.

"Ahh..." He imitates mockingly, plunging the glass deeper. "Let's see you walk - malika..."

When he lets her go, Amrit slumps against the window. Grabbing her hair once more, Farook knocks her head against the window frame.

"Watch," he hisses. "That's all you could do. Watch!"

Down below the post race ceremony was drawing to a close, the trophy being given,wishes made and received. Amrit's eyes blurting with tears of pain finds Veer and Anwar, laughing together as the latter uncorked a bottle of champagne.

Farida is there too, drawing Veer to her side, talking to him in a low undertone. Veer's eyes keep darting off, looking for Amrit no wonder, she could read worry beneath his learned facade of celebration.

"I'm here..." She wishes if he could hear. "Up here. Please move away. Please. Please. Please."

Anwar is there too, he says something that makes Veer stiffen.

Then, as if hearing her all three of them look up, across and towards the window from each Farook takes aim.
The look, unexpected and unsettling - rattles Farook, who is too agitated for anymore scheming. Seeing his chances running thin he pulls the trigger.

Mastering all her will despite the pain that threatens to pull her under, Amrit heralds herself at him, sinking her teeth into his wrist. The man howls and the gun goes off.

Down below, before either of the young men moves to act it is Farida who moves. The bullet aimed for either is a hit taken at her heart, for both are her children, blood or not. She pushes both down with all the force she could master.

And the traitor's bullet finds flesh of an unintended target. Farida stills on her feet for a moment, reeling from the shock of metal tearing through flesh. She sways on her feet before collapsing against Veer, her hand stretched out to Anwar.

"Ammie!" Resonates in her ear and she is uncertain which one of them calls her, Anwar or Veer or both. But both has arms wrapped around her, a shield made of sons, the best a mother could hope for.

When darkness comes, she thinks unwittingly of water that drowns and the ripples take her under.

*

There is blood on his hands. Heat and life. Red and flowing.

"Nahi." Veer says numbly, staring at his blood stained palms. "Yeh nahi ho sakta. Nahi. Nahi."

"Veer! Veer!" Anwar shakes him, while his face too is stained with both blood and tears, his eyes are clear. His brutal force pulls Veer back from retreating into darkness.

"Not here. No. You need to go to Amrit. Ammie will be fine. Unhe kuch nahi honga. Aap jaaiye. Amrit! Amrit ke paas jaiye!"

It feels like a call of a nightmare. Walking from one terror to another. Veer fears for his sanity as he comes face to face with the man who was already stained in Amrit's blood, stinking of gunpowder.

Shravan Singh has him on his knees, holding his shoulder in a grip that could easily break it. Two other guards behind him, just in case the man tries any more of his tricks.

"Hukum?" Shravan Singh prompts.
Veer's eyes have already slid past them to where Menka and two others huddle around Amrit. Blood, it is all he notices, and her long hair drenched in it. Her white face, her trembling lips, her bruised jaw.

"Keep him alive," he could barely recognise his voice as he issues the order. "Ask Nawabzade Anwar where you could keep him. I shall see to him once ..."

The man laughs, snorts and spits.

"Trying to even scores uh Kuwar sahab?" He sneers. "Has your little plaything told you everything about me? Have you kissed my name on her wrist and promised to make it better?"

Farook goes silent when Veer swoops down on him, deadly calm, as he grabs a handful of Farook's hair to pull his face upward.

"You are my plaything Ansari. And my mother might have confided in you - I'm awfully irresponsible with my playthings. They are of no good to anyone once I'm done."

There is a touch of madness to his grin as he grins down at the man who a moment ago believed he could hunt Veer Pratap Singh.

"Did they tell you I'm mad Ansari? That I must be taken down like a mad dog? No? Too bad. Because you will be the first to see exactly how mad Veer Pratap Singh is."

He stand up to his full height and gestures with his chin.

"Move him."

"Veer ko matt bulaiye, matt bulaiye..." her small voice breaks through the red haze of fury that had gripped him. Veer reels at that demand. "He can't see me like this. He can't. He shouldn't-"

"Move," he tells blindly to the woman blocking his view, collapsing on his knees next to where Menka holds Amrit.

"Jaan -" His voice breaks. "Jaan..."

She clutches him with trembling white hands and a death grip. Eyes glazed with pain finds his. Veer struggles for breath as he takes in her state.

"I'm fine," she mutters. "Truely. I promise."

He gathers her against him, feeling instantly how weak she grew with each staggering breath.

"Don't go," he tells her, choking on the words.

Behind them, footsteps thunder on the stone and Vijendra with few of his officers burst in.

"Veer!" He exclaims. "Aap teek ho? Amrit!"

Immediately the man begins issuing orders for preparation to be made. For Amrit to be carried to the ambulance waiting to take the injured. For every suspicious item to be retained.

In the haze of his mind that voice rings. Fitting vaguely into some other memory.

Veer aap teek ho?

Shh shhh kuch nahi honga.

Sab teek hai ...

Sab teek hai ...

He has always looked for papa sahab when he felt he was in danger. Maybe, just maybe that intuition had its roots somewhere.

"Veer...maaf kardijiye. Humein aane mein bohot dher hogaya. Aur aap ko yeh sab dekhna pada. Veer kuch boliye.. Veer..."

Each word he spoke resonated with a memory. Hazy but true and there.
But just then, his concern was elsewhere.

Veer lifts Amrit into his arms, her head falls heavily against his chest, her blood seeps through his clothes and meets the stains already left by Farida's blood. He closes his eyes against the stinging realization that these two women, had saved him with their blood. The debt he may never pay.

"DIG sahab, aap Daulatabadh mein hai. Humare mehel mein, humare riyasat mein. Yahaan kya hota hai hum faizla karenge."

Vijendra stands up nodding, assuming his business formality.

"Of cause your highness," he says. "You are accorded that right within your estates."

"Detain Chandra Singh Rathod."

"Veer...!"

"I have his man sent murder me already held, detain him and I shall give you proof enough to facilitate his arrest. I will see you shortly."

"Ji."

Amrit shifts, barely conscious.

"Kahaan...?" Her voice trails off.

"You are bleeding too much Jaan," Veer replies in a small voice.

"It's not your fault," her response is automatic and endearingly hurtful. Veer kisses her head, as he lowers her into the waiting stretcher. Amrit clasps at his hand, not wanting to let go.

"No, don't go. Veer! Don't let go!"

He takes her hand and draws it to his mouth.

"I won't. I swear."

*
See you again soon!