Disclaimer: I don't own anything. All of it belongs to the brilliant musicians known as The Beatles.

A/N: So, let me just say, being a huge Beatles fan, Across the Universe is the best movie I've ever seen. To fuel my new obsession, I've decided to write an Across the Universe fic (there could possibly be more in the future). I hope you like it! Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Jude

I don't quite understand why Lucy spends all of her time working for that radical anti-war group, and that seductive womanizer Paco. She works hour after hour for him, going to rallies and demonstrating against the growing violence over in Vietnam, and there's no progress to show for it. It's controlled her life; I barely get to see her anymore. She says that there's a revolution happening now, but what can they really do to change the world? Some things are out of our control, however unfair that may seem.

What I do understand is that she's scared for her older brother, Max, who's currently serving in the Army in Vietnam. I think she's got this notion in her head that all this protesting is going help bring Max home. For her sake--and mine, because Max is like a brother to me--I wish it could. News reports of the rising casualty rates come out every day, images of death and destruction plastered everywhere. It breaks Lucy's heart, and it kills me to see her so upset.

Contradictory to Lucy's beliefs, protesting is not going to end this war any faster.

That's why I don't understand why I'm walking toward this rally. Sure, Lucy's bothered me on numerous occasions to join her in attempting to make a real 'difference'--instead of wasting my time with 'doodles and cartoons' as she puts it--but I never had any interest. I'm an artist--a dreamer--and somehow, she fails to see that it's what I like to do.

I glance up, and notice the mob of people gathered outside this building.

And Lucy--my Lucy--is somewhere in there.

I pick up the pace, approaching the wild crowd of people fighting for the cause. I find myself pulled into the horde of protestors, and I begin pushing my way through, looking for any sign of Lucy. The police have interrupted the demonstration, and therefore things have gotten a little chaotic. Waves of people move in all directions, screaming and shouting, fighting their way out. The police officers are dragging away the thrashing radicals one by one, and hitting others with their nightsticks. The noise is so loud that I can barely hear my own thoughts.

Lucy, I keep thinking, Lucy is here somewhere. What if they've already hauled her off to jail? What if she's hurt? The thought of them beating up my cheerful, sweet Lucy was enough to make my stomach churn. If they dared to touch her...

People surround me on all sides, kicking and punching, falling to the ground, yelling hysterically. I shove past them, craning my neck to catch a glimpse of that silky, bright, flyaway blonde hair...

Finally, I see her.

I see her, at the top of the steps, police officers holding on tightly to her arms. There's a defiant look on her face as she struggles against their grips. It's an odd rush of relief to see Lucy under these circumstances, especially since she's currently being held captive by the police. But it's comforting to know that she's not hurt. It still bothers me nonetheless to see her in the midst of this violence.

This was all Paco's bloody fault. Getting her mixed up in this--this craziness. It wasn't worth it. It was dangerous and stupid--why did Lucy commit herself to helping the so-called 'revolution'? What good was it getting herself thrown in jail?

"Lucy!" I shout, hoping that somehow, she'll hear me. I push people out of my way, desperate, but I can't seem to get through. "Lucy!"

She hears me and looks up, her beautiful azure eyes locking with mine for a short, meaningful gaze. "Jude?" She calls loudly, not quite sure as to why I've decided to come now, of all days. "Jude!" She thrashes wildly against the officers, anger flashing across her flawless features. Lucy manages to break free for only a moment, and I reach frantically to try to get to her.

Suddenly, we're both pulled back by the harsh hands of the police. I try to rip myself from them. "Lucy!" I shout, fighting against the officer who has seized me. She calls my name, and I hear the urgency and terror in her voice. I try to look up again, but the officer's fists and nightstick are pounding down on me. I defend myself, but I'm pushed to the marble steps beneath me, and beaten until my nose is oozing blood. I can taste the blood in my mouth from a cut on my lip, and I see the crimson liquid dripping onto the ground, like juice drips from a strawberry.

The noise is slowly fading away, but I can still hear Lucy's panicked cries above everything else. Her name is the last thing I can coherently think of before I blackout.

Lucy...Lucy...Lucy...

Lucy

We work so hard to make a difference. Jude doesn't understand my obsession with helping Paco and his friends make advances in the anti-war movement. Max is risking his life every day in Vietnam; the least I can do is get invloved here, providing some form of help to end the war. It wasn't fair to any of us that Max was forced into the military by the government, and sent to the brutal war-torn country of Vietnam to possibly loose his life.

Jude says that Max is tough--which he is, I don't deny it--but when I see the newspapers and the reports on the news day after day, proclaiming the death tolls of our troops, I can't help but think of my brother. I know that there's a chance he could get wounded or killed, even though it hurts me inside to think about the 'what ifs'.

I try and fight my hardest for this cause, never giving up hope. I take action. Jude's different; he supports Max, disagrees with the war, but doesn't try to do a damn thing about it. I guess we can't all be revolutionaries. Then again, he's the one who's so jealous of Paco, and the fact that I'm spending so much time with him. As if anything could happen between us--I don't know why Jude's so convinced that Paco's some 'Don Juan'.

I met Paco at the rally anyway. This rally was supposed to help us make progess. It was supposed to be important. We gathered quite a following; people showed up with signs and fighting words.

And now? Now, I'm being dragged out of the building by police officers who disrupted our demonstration after about twenty minutes. The two officers who are holding onto my arms with a vice-like grip lead me out into the crowd. There's an incredible amount of people, moving and thrashing against the cruel officers with nightsticks. I can't believe the sight in front of me; it seemed like the world was suddenly spinning off its axis--like nothing made sense anymore.

I can't believe life had gotten so hectic. Was this what our country was coming to?

I struggle against the cops, a surge of newfound energy rushing through me. They pull me along, pushing past other radicals like me. The noise is overwhelming...screaming, crying, bodies being beaten and thrown to the ground. It's mass chaos, and I feel like I'm in the middle of it.

Unexpectedly, I hear someone shout my name. The voice is familiar, the accent unmistakable. But it can't be--he wouldn't have come here. It's my mind playing tricks on me, because I know there's no way that Jude would've shown up at this rally.

"Lucy!" I hear the voice--Jude's wonderful, Liverpudlian accented voice--shout through the din. I look up and see Jude, standing among the crowd, his chocolate brown eyes flashing with worry. What is he doing here?

"Jude?" I ask, yelling over the increasing volume. It's frightening, yet wonderful to see him there. With another burst of adrenaline, I try yet again to free myself...to reach Jude...

I break loose from them, and attempt to make some sort of move toward Jude. He's struggling through the mass of out of control demonstrators, making an effort to get to me as well. We reach out, grasping for each other even though we're so far apart. Our attempts are in vain, however, because suddenly Jude is pulled back by an officer.

"Lucy!" he hollers. I'm thrown back into the grip of a cop once again, forced to watch helplessly as Jude fights desperately against the police. He takes several punches and particularly violent shoves before he looses his footing and falls to the ground.

It's all my fault, I think. It's my fault--always pushing him to come to one of these rallies, and now look what happens. I'm fucking selfish, that's what I am.

Oh Jude...

"Jude!" I cry, my voice breaking the slightest bit. They keep hitting him; every time they throw a punch, my heart breaks a little more. What have I done? He's bleeding on the steps of this building and I'm to blame. Tears sting in the corners of my eyes, I can't watch anymore. They hit him, and kick him...they just won't fucking stop. They're hurting the person I love, and I can't get to him, I can't save him...

I can't apologize for being so selfish and yelling at him. I can't tell him that I love him more than he'll ever know.

He's nearly unconscious on the marble steps, and I'm screaming at the top of lungs, ordering the cops to just back off. I want to run to Jude, tell him I'm sorry, but the cops are dragging me away.

"Jude!" I yell, even though I'm pretty sure he can't hear me now. As I'm towed off by the police, I get this strange sense of foreboding. It's an icy pain; I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest, like Jude and I won't see each other again...

Oh Jude, I'm so sorry. I love you...