A/N: This story was previously written on Wattpad by me. Since the forum has become a little more active I decided to share it here as well.
Character study/Headcanon of the sort. Takes place through episodes 298 to 301. Words in italics are the character's monologue.
Premise:
Santosh Sharma had met with an accident and slipped into a coma. As it turns out, a pit full of darkness isn't exactly comforting.
Karishma Singh is reeling with the ramifications of leaving her alone that night. The guilt and anger are fighting in an adneausem manner and she doesn't know who will win.
Chapter 1: Solitaire
Loose cannon.
Impulsive.
Short-tempered.
Irresponsible.
Stubborn.
Undisciplined.
These were the names she had collected for herself over the years. Of course, they were other accolades too such as, morally indisputable, patriot, compassionate and having a spirit of dauntlessness. There would be a couple more added to the list - ruthless and cruel- once she was through with the perpetrator the police force was currently hunting for.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
While the situation isn't exactly the same, the raw fury burning her out is abounding to a point of no return. It's waiting impatiently to be quenched with the appearance of the perpetrator she is relentlessly searching for.
Station Inspection Karishma Singh painstakingly dug out criminals from every nook and cranny of Lucknow, beating them into a pulp. She hauled them over coal until satisfied or in this case, unsatisfied with the information they spurted amongst the cries for mercy. The station House Officer tried in vain to stem her tortuous crusade bathed with the need to seek vengeance. When it was clear that there was no stopping her, Haseena Malik made her way back to the station.
Pushpa had often joked about the genesis of Karishma's violent tendencies being a fire seed she swallowed as a child. Said seed grew and came out as hot as any dragon had ever flamed when someone she loved or salient to hers was hurt. In this case, it was both. The fire raged uncontrollably inside her, releasing sparks that endangered any and all personnel in the vicinity. She wondered who it would turn to ash first, the offender or herself. But, it didn't matter to her if the tradeoff of apprehending the lawbreaker was a little self-control.
There was a criminal on the loose- one she had a personal vendetta against, one she had to take revenge against, one she had to bring to justice in order to avenge the girl she had come to see as a younger sister.
Santosh Sharma was currently slumbering peacefully. A coma, the doctor whose name she was too grief-stricken to remember, had called it. The consequence of suffering major head trauma due to an accident- an attempted murder.
An attempted murder that never should have happened. It wouldn't have had she not listened to her subordinate and left her alone on that fateful morning.
It wasn't a secret kept from her that Santosh wasn't pleased with her decision to leave the force but she respected it. If it meant Karishma was going to leave a more content life, she would gladly support her.
Veiling her dejection she said, "Madam aap ek kam kijye na. Main yaha pe sambhal lungi. App jaiye na. Aap Ka ajj office ka first day rahega na."
"Ha toh ek adh ganta main kuch fark nahi parta hai. Koi baat nahi." she protested wanting to delay the inevitable for as long as possible.
"Pehla din hai madam. Late nahi hote na. App jaiye." the cyber expert advised wisely.
At that moment, it was nothing but an innocuous decision that materialised the understanding they shared. The younger of two had grown up from a naive little girl to a courageous constable and Karishma was confident that she could handle an hour of patrolling on her own. As they anxiously awaited news about Santosh's condition, however, proved how misjudged and detrimental it was. Not just to the girl currently out cold with a life support machine attached to her body, but to every team member present in the police station.
Karisma watched the lifeline monitor like a hawk, unblinking, praying to the one at the helm to prevent it from taking the shape of a linear line without any crest or trough. It waxed and waned erratically. Ironically, it served as a mirror of how her own heart was pounding away in her chest so much so that she could hear it in her ears. Breathing was becoming a task as if someone was squeezing her lungs, crushing them unforgivingly. She gripped onto the bed frame until her knuckles turned white.
Yet, she held on to hope. The hope Santosh had taught her to cherish in a time of peril- to not let its candle diminish and cast a dark shadow.
The monitor beeped frantically before unsuspectingly flatlining; screeching loudly in its wake. A pall of silence blanketed the room and there was a paradigm shift in the atmosphere. Cheetashwar was the first to recover and barely managed to ask the doctor for an answer. Following suit, she rounded her eyes on the doctor, throwing her a quizzical glance only to have been given the answer she feared ever since the phone call that morning.
The white-coated woman placed two of her fingers on Santosh's wrist to detect a pulse. "She is no more," she announced solemnly.
Her brown eyes snapped back to her little sister's presumably dead body on the bed in front of her. The station inspector flinched at the thought alone.
"Sa-santu," A broken sob left her lips. Upon receiving no response, her world came to a standstill. The sound of her lovely laughter still playing in their ears was music but the light on her petal skin was too harsh, the heart that beat no more was unpalatable. She wanted Santosh to say her knuckleheaded thoughts, to giggle, to say that this was all a big joke. No such luck. she was gone, this was not her but a corpse.
Her feet worked on their own and she moved further into the room, turning away from her sister, unable to look at her still form.
Santosh Sharma had ceased to exist.
They say anger is a bodyguard of sadness. In her case, it was the bodyguard of guilt and disappointment - at least until she began to mourn. The bodyguard couldn't do his job and Karishma was assaulted by the stones of guilt. She embraced them for this is what I deserve.
Twice.
The first time she felt this guilt weighing her down was during the festival of colours. They were on a mission to find the three men who were using the festive occasion as an excuse to prank and bully people. Before they left, Karishma and haseena assured the girl traumatised by past experiences of her safety. She failed to deliver on that promise despite being together at the time of occurrence. They were ambushed and enveloped by colours that stung their eyes. The ones who made a mockery of the uniform they wore were taught a lesson and given due payback.
In spite of that; the misty and scared eyes, tear-jerking sobs and defeated posture of the girl who was always bubbly and full of life in that jail cell haunted her to this day.
"Madam sir, Apne kaha tha kuch nahi hoga hame waha," slowly rising to her feet, Santosh presented herself in front of the cops and prisoner. "Yeh dekhiye unhone kya kiya.'' There she stood, covered in the different coloured powders she despised from head to toe. Of all places, the cell used to house menaces of society in order to keep residents safe was where Santosh found herself feeling the safest.
Even after Santosh had reassured her later on that she didn't blame Karishma or hold anything against her, the Station Inspector knew she let her down.
The oath Karishma had taken to protect Santosh was violated again. This time the ramifications may not leave any behind to salvage.
Her incensed eyes shined with regret within, the senior who failed to look out for her comrade and the sister who couldn't do anything to save her sibling. The pain beneath it was visible and her soul drowning in this pit of tormenting reality was surreal. She can't fight it, she won't, it takes such a toll on her to do so. The best to offer is a void, to let her shadow be boxed in until she craves the sunlight.
She turned back once more, making sure to avoid the sight of the girl not breathing. Cheeteshwar remained rooted to his spot, frozen as he gazed at the love of his life. She knows a person like that cannot be helped, not unless the tears come and he realises what's really going on. Unbeknownst to her, he does actually but is simply refusing to believe it.
If it is one you love that passed on, there is a moment of grief, as if all the love you ever felt for them, every good memory sparks up, as if the soul makes this SOS for them to return. And perhaps a conviction like his was enough to bring the dead back to life.
The machine started beeping again and Karishma ordered the doctor to do their job. "Oh my god. She's alive." the woman announced, awed by the discovery.
Everyone erupted in a roar of happiness, thanking the almighty. To assure herself that indeed her sister was alive, she reached a shaking hand out to touch her skin; soft, warm, alive.
Hope as she saw it, breeds eternal joy.
However, happiness had a habit of being short-lived.
Karishma had come to fear phone calls. The first one she received this morning delivered the news she had never imagined in her worst nightmare. It was a situation fraught with the possibility of death. The second one threatened to lose that same person because her family wanted to bring her back to their village. unpalatable. The third one had her worry resurging.
For the second time on the same day, Santosh almost flatlined. But, she fought with her abuser and the silver lining was the culprit's identity coming to light.
There's a little flicker in her peripheral vision. Karishma perceived it as a fluke at first. Taking a closer look again, she realised that Santosh had caught haseena's hand.
The agonisingly long wait had come to an end. Constable Santosh woke up. She was valiant enough to have defeated death and the allure of sleep. The relief claiming its territory in her was exhilarating.
Karishma vowed that Shyam would plead for leniency which she would never grant. He would atone for all the pain, sadness, disappointment, heartbreak and anxiety they had to endure through this whole ordeal.
She didn't renege and instead, made good on this promise and brought him in front of her little sister to be punished. The almost martyred cop brought him to justice whilst retraining the innocents she was famous for.
Karishma Singh understood the little girl she had told to keep that dollhouse had grown up. There wasn't anything the station inspector could be prouder of.
However, if this growth meant Santosh had to knock on heaven's door, she doesn't want it. Karishma Singh would happily accept that small child who got on her last nerve and had joined this family two years ago.
---entreat me not to leave thee---
It's a rare moment of peace that greets Santosh as she returns to the station that night for her night shift. For the most part, it is commonly filled with the hustle and bustle of shop wonders and customers bargaining with prices whilst Pushpa Ji, cheetah and herself was partaking in some sort of foolishness. Although the doctors had strictly advised her to not overdo it with her recovery still in genesis, she needed to get back into the routine of things. It required a lot of convincing because no one wanted her to exert and set back her rehabilitation process. In the short span of time since she came back to the land of consciousness, every member of the family had become a tad bit overprotective. Especially Karishma who had threatened to suspend her if she continued to deny bed rest.
Nonetheless, a couple of arguments, screaming matches between the Station Inspector and Station House Officer- as usual- quarrels and requests later, here she was- ready to serve her country.
If she were to be honest, she missed the kind of adrenaline rush and serenity her duty as an officer brought. Be it behind the scenes providing intel to her seniors as they chased down the delinquents or on the frontline fighting alongside them. The latter was a little far fetched with the number of times the juniors ended up needing to be saved. Needless to say, they had their fair share of bright moments too. There are times that often go unnoticed; quiet nights where she waited with her guard up all night in case of an emergency. But still, worth every second of it.
In that black hole, there was nothing like it or anything at all.
Santosh awoke in a haze with a splitting headache making its presence obnoxiously known. She was exhausted and every muscle aches with lethargy. It felt like a horse had just kicked her in the head and proceeded to break every bone in her body with its vigorous strength. "Wow, it's dark," she commented absentmindedly, even though her throat was dry.
She laid there for a moment, transfixed by the pit that had become her world. The only decoration being herself.
At first, she thought that the room lacked light or maybe she was just dreaming. After pinching herself, she discerned that it was in fact not a dream. Rallying up the little energy she possessed, Santosh pushed herself up onto her feet. She felt atrociously disoriented and air was the thing that caught her hand as she attempted to clutch something for support.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" she called tentatively, wary of the new environment. "I think the owner of this house forgot to pay their bills. That's why it's so dark. How do they see anything here? oh but what if they are visually impaired," immediately, brought her hands to her ears. "Sorry. Didn't mean to offend you."
"Wait, whose house is this? Where the hell am I?" As the seconds passed, it was becoming painfully obvious that this wasn't a familiar place she was in. "better question, am I forgetting something?" Straining her mind was ill-advisable. Unbothered, she tried to pry open her memory bank to make sense of what was going on.
Hair thief. Video. Scissors.
Gasping in horror, she shrieked, "My phone! I am going to end that uncultured meat bag." before continuing down the current train of thoughts.
Van. Pain. Black.
"Oh," was the sound that left her lips. "I hope I'm not dead. I still haven't completed the last season of Grey's anatomy! And if I get a scar, I am going to slap that hooligan until he will be left saying, daroga ji dekhe toh buhut lekyn tumahre jaisa nahi dekha."
she waited for a moment weighing out her options. "Can't sit here and do nothing." So she started her journey to recovery by setting foot in the direction of what she thought was the door.
The choice was made and the next forty-two hours were going to be the longest of her entire life.
In its true sense, it was devoid of any form of stimulation. It left here starving for companionship. It's the need for physical closeness, for touch, for emotional warmth from someone or really, anything. She was at a plateau, neither suffering nor truly in comfort, a sort of distressing emotional limbo. At that moment all she wished for was another beating heart in that deserted plane, another being of warm blood and flesh, one more pair of boots to walk next to her.
Those forty-two hours were elongated as humanly possible and Santosh felt every second of it- as the pit leeched off her energy and resolution. The determination she owned was insatiable. But as time went on, it faltered; bit by bit, steadfast. At one point I think I actually died.
Santosh stifled a groan and rubbed her forehead that felt warmer than it did a minute ago. Team Mahila police thana and her biological family were wrestling for the cot on which her body was resting, unaware of the affliction their actions caused. The former wanted to keep her in Lucknow while she recuperated and the latter wanted to bring her back to Ghaziabad.
She loved her biological family except when they forced their decisions on her. "Seems like things are still the same even when I am in a god damned coma." their concerns and qualms were valid. The cyber expert understood their dilemma. What she couldn't understand was their inability to think rationally. The atmosphere was already filled with grievance. The least they could do was not aggravate the situation.
As they continued to push and fight, Santosh stumbled in her steps, falling face-first on the cold floor. Things shifted in and out of focus, not that there was anything much to look at either way. Her vision swam and Santosh found it difficult to hold on to any coherent thought.
"Stop. please stop."
They did stop eventually. Not because she requested them as she assumed for a split second but because Karishma had returned to the station.
Station Inspector Karishma Singh, always the saviour- a sage of her own league. Santosh knows she can trust her blindly and she would be there right by her side in the face of adversity. That bedrock of their relationship could not corrode.
With that one lucid thought, she turned onto her back- drifting off.
Occasionally, she would catch a whiff of hushed whispers and sometimes the loud wailing of her family members. Those sent a shrill chill to run down her spine. She heard them loud and clear. The sense of helplessness was despicable. They spoke continuously and begged the youngest member to wake up, to not die on them. All she could do was scream futile replies because her voice went unheard by the outside world and her body was sinking further beneath the yawning chasm of heaven and hell.
She couldn't stand their agony. It was too much- like nails scratching on blackboards ceaselessly. "I'll get out, if it's the last thing I ever do, I will."
The darkness was a protector from the monsters of the night. Within its confines, they are as children once more, safe in shields of a duvet. Only, this duvet had a thousand rusty nails in them. The stupor drove the prey it caged insane insidious and stripped its agency.
Yet, she held onto hope- an intangibly unquestionable belief that had the power to wipe the draconian rule out of its existence.
When one is willing to shine a light upon their darkness and make it submissive to the light, they are reborn as a hero. The light was catching the culprit- Shyam.
"yeh baal katne wala sanki admi aur koi nahi shyam hi hai.'' Santosh hears Haseena bellow in the distance.
"Yes, madam sir. He is the one who broke my forty eight-megapixel camera phone," she nodded enthusiastically. She frowned when everything suddenly went quiet again. No indication that the voice she had had ever been there.
"Can you hear me?" the technologically adept girl howled her lungs out, hoping for someone to hear her cries. Met with saddening silence, she sighed in frustration. "Can you guys hear me! Madam sir! Karishma madam! Pushpa Ji! God has every one of you gone deaf. Come on guys, listen to me! he..."
Then, she saw it. The unmistakable speck of light in the corner of her vision. She hankered to get out of here and it seemed like the divine agreed with her- it was time to go home.
She didn't know when or how it happened. She was no longer in the pit of blackness. She was in the police station surrounded by her loved ones. There was a tender hand on her own. Haseena gripped on tight to it as if afraid that if she let go, Santosh would slip back into hibernation. Weakly, she returned the squeeze before making an attempt to study their smiling faces.
There was that look again on Karishma's face. The one last witnessed during the festival of colours. A look that reflected her conflict between relief, guilt and happiness. Santosh made a mental note to speak to her about that later.
For now, she relished the fact that everything was going to be okay. She knew this was her haven. A home where she was safe, secure, happy and loved.
Being in a coma for almost two days was a paradoxical notion. She was out for the count and never did she ever want to go back there. That's a tough thing to come back from, but the constable did.
There's a certain level of weariness that awakens in lockstep with lunacy; for Santosh, it's when she'd like to temporarily dislocate her spirit from her body. Just for a short while, let her soul go wherever she wants without the burden of trauma and trepidation weighing her down. She was a fairly brave person, but sometimes it's easier to not feel the process of compartmentalizing emotions. She knows that after a good night's sleep, she would wake up feeling okay. Probably. it's the level of worn-outness that hurts. The quiet ambience provides a little comfort from the demons harrowing in her fogged mind.
The break in the clouds and blue sky- This is how they knew who she was, and so even this despairing pain can be seen as a gift, a chance to know what she is made of - to earn her own respect.
I'm strong. I'm brave. I'm indomitable. That's me. Whatever that was, it's over. God, I am so glad to be free of all that.
A/N:
The dollhouse was from episode 59.
I honestly felt like the guilt and trauma aspect of this incident could have been explored a little more. I tried my best to do so although it did deviate a little from what I had in mind.
Dont forget to R&R! It's my first time writing for this fandom.
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