Dedicated to: All my Readers. You want this. I deliver. 

'Its never the heroes who suffer. Its never the heroes who die. Its always those who are behind them, out of the spotlight. Those who are heroes in their own matter. Once they disappear, true bravery dies with them.'

Would it never end? This suffering. Lakshman's feet ached and his arms hurt, but there was something much more important than the brief relief of rest waiting for him. Maa Sita was here. Somewhere. She had to be. She had to be. She couldn't be gone. Not when he finally made the mistake his demons were waiting for. Not now. Not when he was so close to seeing his Urmila. Not when he was so close to seeing bhaiyya crowned.

"Something seems wrong, bhaiyya." Lakshman whispered. "I don't know what, but something seems wrong. Bhaiyya, we have to get out here." He rubbed his eyes. Where a yawn would have taken over his face, his mouth screwed up into a thin line. He couldn't afford to get tired. Not now. Not when he was supposed to protect his brother. The only thing, it seemed, he could do right. Perhaps he was flawed even here.

"But Lakshman," Ram began, his voice clipped. "These are the flowers Sita loves. Look!" he lifted up a bunch of jasmines, and Lakshman's eyes softened. "We'll find her soon, and when we do, I'll give her these. Right?" Ram glanced imploringly at him, and Lakshman could do nothing but nod. Right. They kept on walking, Lakshman going first, pushing past the thick brambles and shoving the branches out of the way.

If leaves rustled, if the air suddenly chilled, Ram took no notice. It was in the early hours of Sita's kidnapping. They still held out hope. Perhaps she would be found. Perhaps, hidden somewhere in the trees, or kept for dead. Maybe they would find her, laughing with a new animal friend. But as they strayed further and further from their cottage, Lakshman knew. Sita bhabhi was gone.

In these moments, they were ambushed. Lakshman forgot how strong they were. Horned monsters, bodies covered in disgusting boils. Ram lifted his bow, but his hands shook. That strong crown prince of Kosala's hands shook, and Lakshman couldn't believe it. Never had he seen bhaiyya so weak. So...helpless. Inhaling a deep breath, Lakshman lifted his own bow and five arrows at a time, managed to fend off the demons.

Something sharp flared in his shoulder as he worked on lifting Ram, who had fallen again, crying out for Sita. "Sita! Site! Come back! Come back!" His voice sounded so hitched and broken, Lakshman could scarcely keep in the tears himself. But he had to. If he burst into tears, what kind of a brother would he be? Because it was all his fault. And now he had to suffer. He had to watch his brother slowly dissolve into this cyclone of desperation, and he could do nothing about it. This was his penance.

Later in the night, Lakshman drew out a long splinter embedded in his shoulder, biting his lip. Pain was useless. He deserved it. He deserved it all. He stood back, despite the protest from the nerves in his red feet. Ram bhaiyya sat near the camp fire. He could not have that luxury. He didn't need it.

------O------

"There are scars on your feet, Lakshman bhaiyya." Angad whispered. "Why are there scars on your feet?" Lakshman looked up from his dirty nails. Reaching down, he drew his foot up for further inspection, and exhaled. There they were. Long, thin scars, some deep and pockmarked, some white and healed. WIth his thin, precise fingers, he pulled a burr from the heel of his foot and threw it off.

"Years in the forest do not bode well for skin." he said with a spasm in his face possessing a merely meager semblance of a smile. Angad glanced over at Ram's feet, swallowing hard. They were dark, even at the soles, but something was unmistakable. Ram's feet were devoid of all of these scars. The crown prince did not ask any more, and it was all for the better. Lakshman would not answer.

------O------

"Ravan. He's a devil. He kills men through torture, roasts them on spits while they are still alive and breathing, and slowly drains their body of blood. But they have it easier. If he spots a woman, he falls upon her like a bird of prey. They're ruined by him. Tales of his exploits, victims of rape, have reached even the ears of the women in Kishkindha. We do not allow our wives to venture anywhere near this island for fear Ravan may spot them."

"It's all your fault! All you had to do was wait! Keep watch on Sita! This is all your fault! I gave you a command, Lakshman, and you disobeyed it! You know, when I stood there in the middle of the forest, staring at Marich's dead body, you know what I thought? Oh, Sita will be alright! Because my freaking brother is there, and Lakshman always keeps a clear head and follows what 've said, doesn't he? He would never leave that cottage! He respects Sita like a mother! He would ensure she stays safe! And then I saw you, rushing towards me. What ever could have entered your mind to leave a defenseless woman in the middle of nowhere? What's wrong with your mind that that could have struck you as a marvelous idea? Hanh? If Sita is dead, it's your fault, Laksh! Remember that!"

"Why aren't you more scared? That is your brother! The man whom you love the most in the world! Why aren't you frightened for his life! Why are you so calm? No, it can't be! There is only one reason for this. You-You wish to marry me! So convenient, isn't it, that your brother goes out, dies, and then the younger brother gets the widow? No? It's the only reason you followed us into the forest, na? You were just waiting, like an ambushing hyena! I'll have you know that before I ever stray from my Ram, I will jump into a fire and perish! Leave! LEAVE!"

"You idiot. This is all your fault. If you hadn't left the cottage that day, then Sita bhabhi would still be here. If you hadn't thrown that dagger at Surpanakha like the tempestuous person you are, maybe we would have been safe. Everything is your fault. You shouldn't have followed them into exile. What kind of a husband are you? What kind of a son are you? What kind of a brother are you? You can't do a single thing right!"

Lakshman sat up in a cold sweat.

-----O------

"Urmila," Lakshman whispered. "I want to kill myself." There he stood, on the edge of a cliff. If he looked down, the sight would be sickening, he knew, so he didn't. All there was left between him and the jagged rocks in the deep canyon was a wall of air. And a single step. Right on the edge of life and death. Lakshman wondered if he peered close enough, he could see the abode of Yama. Perhaps he could describe it.

He wondered what it would be like if it wasn't twilight. Would the walls of the deep ravine seem as welcoming? The eyes of night, Maa had said. Perhaps, if he had the eyes of the night, he needed to be engulfed by it too. Because he was a failure. He couldn't do anything right. He was hated by his own bhaiyya and bhabhi. He was useless. He was just a burden. Lakshman inhaled, closing his eyes, and stepped one closer.

One more step, and he'd be gone. If he was lucky, Ram and Sugriv would never find him. If he wasn't, then bhaiyya would. Lakshman never wanted to be needed. He just wanted to be useful. What was he now? Just dead weight. Licking his lips, he paced closer. There was only thin rock right at the edge. If he jumped, or shifted his weight to only one foot, the rock would now crack, and he would fall to his death. Urmila. Lakshman blinked.

Urmila. Was that the only reason he had to live? 'I'll always wait for you.' Those words rang through his ears, and Lakshman swallowed. If there was anyone, it was Urmila who would never go back on her word. He had to keep living for Urmila. He had to fight the inner darkness which rattled his brain and filled his conscience with terrible thoughts, because Urmila was still waiting. His own mother had told him the life of a widow. Would he confine his own wife to the color white, pacing aimlessly around the palace?

A cracking noise filled the air, and with a single look down, Lakshman saw a thin line, just like the thread of a spider, running through the edge of the ledge he stood on. Lakshman quickly scrambled back as the limestone crumbled and fell into the canyon below. His foot slipped, but something on his hand managed to grip onto the edge of the stronger rock. Hoisting himself back onto the stronger part of the cliff, Lakshman glanced at his hand. There was his wedding band. Useless or not, a smile spread across Lakshman's face. Urmila had saved him.

------O------

"Bhabhi I-" Sita stared at him, eyes flaming and burning. She couldn't tell if it was with anger or tears. But the truth had finally come out. Surely his silence was enough for a confession. "Bhabhi?" Lakshman asked, his voice soft. She had never heard him at such a loss for words. He, who never stood back from a challenge, who always had something witty to snap back with. Then, something in him seemed to click, and he stood tall, his shoulders broadening with purpose.

"Bhabhi, I will leave to go search for bhaiyya." he said, and his voice was like a robot. Emotionless. Sita inhaled sharply. The voice he used when he talked to strangers. "And then, once I return with bhaiyya. Once I come back, I will jump into a fire and end myself as you wish." He gestured towards a collection of logs near the cottage, and bowed slightly, as if not going only to return and kill himself.

End myself as you so wish....Those words haunted Sita till the very end.

-----O-----

"Bhaiyya." Lakshman interrupted Ram's reading. "So sorry to interrupt. I'm just saying that all of the tents will soon be erected. I have arranged for separate resting cottages for some of the unmarried women, just to keep them comfortable. There is a separate store for healing supplies. Everything should be fine in terms of putting all the buildings up." Ram nodded, flipping a page.

"Also, about the monkey army materials, me and Hanuman have been working with the boulders, just to make sure enough are lying around to be used as weapons. The mountains, trees, and other such things nearby are also supposed to be enough. However, we have got some talented weapon wroughters here, apparently, so they'll be working with whatever wood we have around." A yawn. "Sorry. It's been an interesting schedule and-"

"Is there anything else?" Ram asked, and Lakshman shook his head silently. Smiling, Ram returned back to his book, flipping a page interestedly, and he heard Lakshman stepping away. Suddenly, he looked up. "Hey! Lakshman! I realized I haven't said this for some time, but thank yo-" Ram stopped. Lakshman was out of earshot much before he had begun.

-----O-----

For a moment, everything, even he, was silent. Nothing moved. He stepped back for a second, then with a slow, hesitant movement of his head, looked down to stare at the weapon stuck in his chest. The sight of this appeared to trigger something, for the moment he looked up, he seemed to lose balance. His body fell in an arc, like a perfect rainbow. The black eyes of his rolled back into his head as his eyes slowly fluttered closed.

The spear still was stuck right where his heart was, in a perfect diagonal. Even the blood in his body seemed to have stilled like the rest of the battlefield. As his body met the ground, a loud thud echoed. Dust rose in a storm as if a giant had taken a step in the Earth. Without his tall body, the field suddenly felt empty. His mouth moved, saying something incomprehensible, and then, he stopped moving. His body became limp as it lay on the Earth.

Amidst the laughter from somewhere, a loud sound echoed. "NO!" Because they suddenly realized, this 'he' wasn't just anybody. It wasn't some normal fighter. It was Lakshman.

A/N-Ooola. Actually, this chapter was supposed to be longer, but then Amita said 'Slow-burn!', or something like that, and I said 'Aye Aye capitan!" Because, ya know, she's the warrior queen. Anyways, yeah, I did update, because I SAID DAILY FREAKING UPDATES AND GOD HATE ME IF I DO NOT FOLLOW THAT TO THE BEST OF MY FREAKING ABILITY. Cough cough. Anyways, yeah, next chapter Ram realizes something. Er-a couple things. Anyways.