Title: Dark Horse: Chapter Five, Embracing Beauty
Rating: PG-13 [mild drug use]

Summary: George finds Sitara in the trees. Donovan interrupts Sitara's dance practice. And to end it, Sitara helps out Cynthia before spending moonlit hours with George




Lingering at the dining area after the band, Donovan, and others drifted off to the lecture, George watched the monkeys encroach on the area. Not at all at ease with the animals as Sitara had been, he got to his feet. While he should have been joining everyone for the lectures, his worries would not allow it. He waited for everyone to come and go, but still he did not see her. Not once had she mentioned she would be missing breakfast. Had something happened and she fled during the night? Or did she sleep much later than… even the band?

He decided to head to her quarters to check on her. If she still slept, he supposed he would let her continue to sleep. If she was gone, he did not know what he would do. Trying to not think about it, he quickly walked to the apartments and headed directly to her room. Propped open, her door beckoned him in without knocking.

The room was empty.

George looked around quickly, relieved to find her things still littered the room, a bit messily. However, that was tempered by the very fact she had not been seen that morning. No one had mentioned her at breakfast; he listened to bits of conversations all through the meal. Had something happened to her during the night? If she was not in her room at night, where could she b – oh.

Leaving her room undisturbed, he headed across the campus. Passing groups who sunbathed or read instead of attending the lectures, George ignored them all. Most assumed he was hurrying to join the lecture, but rather than turn into lecture hall, he continued beyond it.

It was a bit different heading into the forest with the sun blazing above, but he was certain he headed in the correct direction. Even if it did not look right, it felt right and that was more important. As he stepped into the small clearing, his dark eyes went directly to the tree he expected to find her. Without fail, the Indian woman lounged on the low-lying branch, one foot propped up on it, the other dangling down. She faced towards the forest, away from him, and leaning back against the tree trunk.

Slowly, he stepped forward, trying to not startle her. His fingers reached up and touched her knee gently. Sitara gasped and immediately lost her balance, tumbling off the branch. George leapt forward, catching her. His arms embraced her for a few long moments before her balance returned, her feet firmly on the ground.

Turning to face him, her green eyes went to his, “George…”

Reaching up to her hair, he plucked a leaf from her dark locks, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I must have dozed off.”

“Were you out here all night?”

“Um,” she bit her lip slightly, “for the most part.”

“Why, sweet girl?” his fingers played with her messy hair.

She leaned her head into his hand, “I feel safe up there.”

“Did something happen last night to scare you?”

“…not really.”

“You hesitated.”

“It’s nothing to be worried about. Why did you come here?”

Leaning forward, he kissed her quickly, “I was worried about you. You weren’t at breakfast or in your room.”

“I…”

“I was afraid you left.”

“Why would I leave?”

George continued to hold her, “Your father maybe? You never told me about that conversation.”

“I didn’t have one.”

He smirked, “You just stayed without telling him?”

“Not exactly.”

“What happened?”

“The Maharishi called him for me…”

He remained silent, letting her finish.

“Told him that his most esteemed guests requested that I dance for them this weekend,” she stated. “Apparently after some lengthy discussion, my father agreed to it.”

“I’m glad,” he quickly stole another kiss.

“I need to go practice the dance,” Sitara stated, pulling slightly back in his embrace. “Especially with what I – you – bought yesterday.”

“Will you show me?”

She quickly shook her head, stepping out of his arms, “No. You will wait until your birthday like a good boy.”

He sighed and pouted, “But I don’t want to wait.”

“No one ever makes you wait, do they?”

“No,” he smirked. “Just like how they never tell me no.”

She rolled her eyes, “Well I can tell you no and I can tell you wait. I don’t care if you’re a Beatle or a monkey or a giraffe or whatever. You will wait until your birthday.”

“Ohhh, do I have to?” he whined.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes! I should go practice. You should be… meditating.”

“I couldn’t meditate while worrying about you.”

She smiled slightly, “I’m okay. Walk me back to my room?”

“With pleasure.”



Not entirely keen on meditating for four hours, Donovan wandered about the complex with a joint in his mouth. He chatted with others, fooled around with Jenny for a bit, worked a bit more on a song, but still felt aimless. Maybe he should have meditated on that, like the others likely would have. It just was not his day to meditate.

So he would get stoned out of his mind instead. It seemed a viable option. If only he could get his hands on something a bit stronger than pot. He knew they broke the rules of the ashram by smoking both tobacco and marijuana, but the Maharishi seemed to be turning the other way about it. It was fine by him.

Lighting the next joint from the one he was finishing as he leaned against a tree, Donovan glanced around. He could hear the slight tinkle of bells just outside his immediate realm of influence. Figuring it had to be a sign if ever there were one, he pushed off from the tree and followed the sounds. Reaching the apartments, he tilted his head to the side, thinking that for a moment he had just heard nothing. The tinkling picked up again and seemed to follow some unheard rhythm. Donovan zeroed in on it and followed the sound.

Reaching a slightly open door, he casually pushed it open with his pointer finger. Though already sparsely furnished, all of the furnishings leaned against the wall in a cluster, leaving the floor as open as possible. In the center of the room, Sitara twirled about, her eyes closed. No music played, as there was no radio or turntable, but that did not seem to matter to her at all. Watching silently, Donovan finished his joint and flicked the nub away. His eyes were fixated by the way she moved. It was not just how she moved, but also how controlled her movements were. He knew there certainly had to be some significance to the dance, but at that moment, he did not care. She was… beautiful.

Turning towards the door in a movement, Sitara’s eyes flicked open. She froze mid-pose, her eyes locked with his. Neither spoke, but his lips curved into a smile. Remaining silent, she continued through the phrase before turning to face him.

“Hi,” she breathed.

“That was amazing, Sita,” he uttered.

She flushed slightly, “It will look better in full costume, with the musicians and all.”

He quickly glanced at her appearance. Wearing a long gauzy, embroidered skirt and a slim-midriff bearing shirt in the same fabric and pattern, she was truly breathtaking. Without even meaning too, he mentally undressed her. His fingers itched to reach out and touch her.

“You are beautiful.”

She wiped her forehead with a cotton scarf, “I am not.”

Even though he was not invited, Donovan stepped into her room. Her eyes turned to his and she smiled slightly. His fingers reached up and tucked an errant, wet curl behind her ear. Her eyes fluttered close, her lips slightly parting. With a smile, he leaned in and kissed her. As her lips were parted, Donovan gingerly slipped his tongue into her mouth as his arms circled around her back.

Surprised, her eyes flew open and her head snapped back, “Don?”

“I couldn’t help it. You are just so…” his lips touched hers again.

“I… should clean up and change before midday meal,” she muttered, taking a step back but not fully out of his arms.

Donovan stepped forward, “There’s no rush.”

“I… I have not eaten yet today. If I’m going to keep this practice up…”

“I’m a bit peckish myself,” he declared. “Shall we go to the kitchen now together?”

“Um,” she wiggled out of his arms, “okay. But let me clean up and such.”

“All right. I will wait outside.”

As Donovan retreated from her room, Sitara turned to the sink and quickly rinsed the salty perspiration from her skin. Running the wet cloth over her hair as well, she wished for a proper bath, but had not the time. With no consideration to the fact the door was open, she quickly unzipped her top and tossed it on the floor. Donovan had to bit his cheek to keep from gasping at the glimpse of her perky, teardrop-shaped breasts. He forced himself to step away from the door and light another joint before she saw that he had seen.

She stepped out of her room a moment later, attired in the same skirt, but a longer, flowing shirt like the other girls wore usually. Stopping to close her door, she turned to Donovan. Smoke wisped around his head and towards her. As her father smoked tobacco on occasion, she was very familiar with that scent. What Donovan smoked was certainly not tobacco.

“I was unaware that you were a shaman,” she stated, stepping up next to him as he looked out over the balcony smoking.

“Huh?”

She pointed to the tightly rolled white cigarette, “That certainly isn’t tobacco.”

Donovan smirked, “No, love, it’s not. Want a hit?”

“What is it?”

He handed it to her, “Just try it.”

Sitara accepted the joint and carefully sniffing the smoke, “I can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“For what purpose are you smoking it? If this is how you worship Shiva, you’re doing it wrong,” she declared, handing it back over.

“Love, I don’t smoke it to worship anyone. I smoke it to feel good,” he accepted it back and inhaled a quick hit.

“Most would find that an affront to Shiva,” Sitara claimed and moved away from the balcony. “Besides, there are more pleasant ways to ingest it.”

Completely intrigued by her statement, Donovan trotted to catch up with her, “Really? How would you know that?”

“Here in India, hemp is used for spiritual and medicinal purposes. Very few smoke it.”

“Have you had it another way?”

“Of course. We drink bhang during the celebrations of Holi in March and Vaisakhi in April. Some people use it to boost meditation and reach a transcendental state. But some yogis do forbid it,” she explained as they headed towards the kitchen.

“What is this bhang and where can I get some?” he asked.

Sitara laughed, “Not here. But there are probably people selling it in town. The Maharishi does not use it, as far as I know, so there is none here.”

“Could you…”

“No. I am not going to go and buy you any nor will I make you any,” she responded.

“You know how to make it?”

She rolled her eyes, “Yes. And again, I’m not going to make you any.”

“I… fine. Fine.”

They entered the kitchen a minute later so the conversation completely dropped. Without the two Australians available to cook anything, Sitara riffled through the cupboards for food. Though watching her, Donovan’s thoughts were far from food. He was still thinking about her frank conversation about making some drink with pot in it – and trying to figure out how to convince her to make him some.



With dinner over and the sun set, people began to drift to bed. Having set down his sitar for a cigarette, George’s eyes followed Sitara’s movements. She sat with the women for a while, chatting about whatever women chatted about before getting to her feet. She said something to Donovan and Jenny, the latter sitting the former’s lap, and headed out of the halo of gathered people. He presumed she headed to bed and wanted to get up to see her safely to her room.

Before he could, Pattie plopped into the lawn chair next to him. She scooted it closer, leaned over, and kissed him. Giggling, she stole his cigarette, finished it, and discarded the butt. Paul teased George for his lack of control over his woman – and was promptly reprimanded by Jane, who sat on his knee. Even Ringo and Maureen laughed and cuddled. The only couple who did not seem to be relaxing was John and Cynthia. In fact, the moment she attempted to speak to her husband, he said something brusque, got to his feet, and stomped off. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes and Cynthia stood to leave too. No one moved to comfort her, though a couple of the girls tried to get her to stay. She merely shook her head and hurried off.

As she stepped into her quarters and turned to close the door, Sitara instantly noticed a crushed aura heading in her general direction. Hesitating, her green eyes watched the darkness to see who was hurt. Cynthia appeared in the clearing in front of the apartments a few seconds later, tears running down her cheeks. Not even thinking about it, Sitara stepped out of her room and into Cynthia’s path. The other woman ran directly into her, blinded by her tears. Without hesitation, Sitara embraced her, holding her close as she sobbed.

Speaking soft words of comfort, Sitara led her into her chambers. She eased the other woman onto her bed, but continued holding her. Cynthia’s sobs made no sense at all, but Sitara did not ask an explanation either. Instead, she began to rock the woman back and forth gently. Unexpectedly, a soft lullaby often sung by her nurse filled the room in Sitara’s voice. Cynthia did not understand the words at all, but slowly her sobs faded and her tears dried as the Indian sang to her.

“There,” Sitara wiped her tear-stained cheeks and kissed her forehead, “that’s better.”

“Th-thank you,” Cynthia muttered. “I… I…”

“Shhhh. It’s okay. You don’t need to explain anything.”

“I…”

“Shhhh,” she hushed her. “Why don’t you lie down? I will go get you some tea.”

“I… okay.”

Easing the other woman out of her arms, Sitara kissed her forehead once more before getting to her feet. Though she had water in her room, she did not even have access to a hot plate – which meant a quick trip to the kitchen. She closed the door behind her, partly grateful that she had not lit a candle yet. Part of her hoped Cynthia would be asleep when she returned. She had a feeling the woman needed it.

Back in the kitchen, Sitara dug through boxes of tea. Barlow chai was the best in the country, but it was not quite the tea she had in mind. Something softer, more calming was needed. Yet box after box did not yield the sought-after tea. She knew it had been in the last order, especially since the order was twice the amount of tea as normal. However, she could not locate the calming tea at all.

Selecting another mild tea as a poor substitute, Sitara set the tin on the counter and turned to fill the teakettle with water. At that moment, George stepped into the kitchen, silently. She did not see him until she turned to set the kettle on the stovetop and gasped.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she remarked, setting the kettle down.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he commented with a slight smile. “Late night tea?”

Sitara turned the knob, “Not for me. I thought it would help Cyn, but for some reason, I can’t find the one I really wanted to take her.”

Approaching her, he picked up the tin and turned it over, looking for some indication of the kind of tea it could be, “We are lucky to have a tea expert in residence.”

She chuckled, plucked the tin from his fingers, and moved to fill a tea ball with the loose leaves, “Tea is unfortunately or fortunately a very big part of my life.”

“Is it what you want to do with your life, though, Sita?” he asked, retrieving a large teacup from the cupboard for her.

“Yes, no, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter what I want,” she declared, affixing the tea ball to the cup.

One hand went to her chin, turning her eyes to his, “Of course it matters what you want, Sita. Don’t be so foolish.”

“I am to take over the Tea Company. That is my future.”

“Not if you don’t want it to be.”

“I don’t have the freedom here to choose any other path.”

“Then the answer is simply to leave,” George stated.

She shook her head, pulling her chin free from his soft touch, “I cannot leave any more than you can walk down a street in London and not get accosted.”

He smirked, “But I can. And so can you.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible at all. I will do as I must.”

“Sita,” he reached once more for her chin to turn her face back to his, “let me help you escape.”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

The shrill screech from the teapot interrupted any answer he could have muttered. Instantly, Sitara turned away to fill the teacup with the hot water. Remaining silent, George watched her work quickly, adding a dash of milk. When she did not stir the milk and hot water, he wanted to ask why, but did not have the chance as she picked up a spoon, a saucer, and the teacup, heading out of the kitchen. He quickly checked to make certain the stove was off before following her out.

When they reached her room, she paused, “Wait here.”

He nodded and leaned against the banister. Carefully opening the door, Sitara stepped into the mostly dark room, closing the door behind with her foot. She set the tea on the single table in the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Her fingertips gently brushed Cynthia’s forehead and cheek. The other woman did not stir. Sitara smiled slightly, feeling it right for Cynthia to relax into sleep. Brushing her lips across her forehead again, she muttered that she would return later, but to sleep as much as she wished. Silently, she stood and exited the room.

George’s eyes met hers, silently asking how Cynthia was.

“She was already asleep. I’ll check on her in awhile,” she declared softly.

“Did she say…”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. Merely held her while she cried and sang her a lullaby,” she responded with a sheepish smile.

“How sweet of you,” he held out his hand.

Without thought, she slipped her hand into his, letting George lead her away from the apartments. Though he wanted to take her to the tree she seemed to fancy, he decided it was too far away and headed to the nearby meditation hives instead. After leading her up the steps, he opted to not duck inside, but rather sit on the edge of the platform, feet dangling off. His hand continued to hold hers, though he was tempted to slip his arm around her and pull her closer.

“Tell me why you slept in… wait… tell me why you find trees to be safe,” he requested.

She chuckled, “There is a tree back home, a very large tree, by the back fence. Ever since I was little, I climb into its branches when I want to escape… something. It actually does provide actual escape too, as some of the branches sprout out over the fence…”

“Allowing you to sneak out at night,” George finished.

“Yes.”

“That makes sense then,” he nodded. “Do you sneak out often?”

“Some weeks, every night.”

He turned his gaze away from the night-embraced forest in front of them to look into her eyes. Unable to help himself, he quickly and softly kissed her mouth. She shifted closer to him, silently urging his hand to release hers so he could embrace her fully. They kissed a couple of times before her lips parted. George deepened their kiss, but only for a moment before pulling back and looking down into her eyes.

“You are too beautiful to keep behind locked doors,” he breathed.

She cast her eyes down, “Things are not the same here, George.”

“Let me help you out of your cage, beautiful.”

“I…”

“The world should not miss out such an opportunity as embracing your beauty.”

“I cannot deny wishing to escape here, but…”

He kissed her again, gently, “Then let me take you away.”