Seize A Lost Identity

Chapter 1: The Edge of Life

The squealing of brakes and the violent impact memory went over and over again in Dhawan's head, like a broken record. There, set on the threshold to the operating room, with trembling hands, he rubbed his face, doing his best to not break down. The boy jumped off the curb and ran into the street in school uniform. Dhawan was left completely disorientated following Xio's death and was only ever encountered when that prospect was out of the question.

"I should've been more careful," Dhawan muttered to himself, pacing in front of the pale, sterile doors. The boy couldn't have been older than 17-he had barely started living. This is my fault. I won't let him die because of me.

Doors opened hesitantly, then a team of doctors filed in, their faces grim with the weight of the news to tell.

Mr. Dhawan," went one of the doctors in a measured and clinical voice. "We did everything we could. But the boy is brain dead."

Dhawan froze, his breath catching. "Brain dead?"

"Yes," the doctor said grimly. Physically his body remains whole, but mentally his brain is beyond saving. There's no activity. It's... over."

Dhawan clenched his fists. His fortune, his influence-it all felt meaningless in this moment. The weight of the boy's life hung heavy on his shoulders. He couldn't just let this child slip away, not when it was his recklessness that put him here.

"Isn't there anything we can do? A brain transplant, maybe?" Dhawan asked, his voice desperate.

The doctor frowned. "With our current medical technology, brain transplants aren't viable. If we could, of course, the success rate would be infinitesimally small. And even if he lived, he would be a different guy. He would be... someone else."

"That's better than nothing," Dhawan snapped. "I don't care if he's not the same. I just want him to have a life!

The doctors exchanged uneasy glances. Such activity can no longer be performed by staff or by technology.

Dhawan's resolve hardened. He pulled out his phone and made the call that would forever alter the game.

Hours later, the boy's body was moved to a modern facility in a different country. The unit was an achievement of contemporary medicine with state-of-the-art equipment and a multidisciplinary team composed of leading experts in the field from all over the world. Dhawan stood in the brightly lit observation room, watching as the doctors prepared the boy's body for the impossible.

"Find a brain," Dhawan ordered. "He needs a donor. Whatever it takes."

Mr. Dhawan" (1) one of the physicians said, "the ethics and complications of such a procedure are monumental. There is no guarantee, even though we may eventually discover a donour, that the boy will live. And if he does, he might not be... himself."

"I don't care," Dhawan said, his voice like steel. "This was my fault. I won't let this child die because of me."

As the preparations continued, Dhawan received an unexpected call from Vasco.

"Dhawan," Vasco said, his voice tired. Xio's body.what do you want to do with it? Jules hasn't left his side. She's not coping well."

Dhawan's throat tightened at the mention of Xio. His loss was still a fresh wound, one that Dhawan hadn't yet begun to process.

Have him a stage funeral [i.e., fake funeral], Dhawan replied after a while. "But bring his body to me immediately. Don't tell Jules."

Xio's body will be delivered at the facility within hours, in a frozen and undamaged state. Dhawan waited, a mask of silence, while the physicians tested, as their expressions varied from incredulity to terror as they performed their tests.

"This is... astonishing," one of the doctors murmured. His body is totally unresponsive except for weak electrical activity in his brain. It's hanging on, barely alive."

"Then there's still hope," Dhawan said, his voice firm. "Use his brain as the donor."

The doctors hesitated. When we go on, the chance of success is less than one percent. However, it is impossible to predict the identity of the person that could emerge. Are you certain about this?"

"I've never been more certain of anything in my life," Dhawan said. "Do it."

Surgery was laborious, a surgical guillotine that never stopped, with the surgeon's team busy for hours and hours. Dhawan observed from the back of the glass, his nerves shredded yet yearning. At last, with the dawn's early light showing on the horizon, the principal surgeon stepped out.

It all went well," the doctor explained in a tired voice. "The boy's body has accepted the new brain. His heart is beating, his lungs are active. but there is no reaction. He's alive, but unresponsive."

Dhawan's heart sank. "What does that mean?"

"It means the boy is stable, but there's no way of knowing if he'll ever wake up. He could remain in this state indefinitely."

The room fell silent. Stucking his eyes to the child's face in the glass, Dhawan felt a tightness in his chest from guilt and remorse.

What have I done? he thought.

Dhawan exhaled, his breath fogging up the glass. "He was just a kid. An innocent kid caught in the crossfire of my. carelessness. His voice faltered, heavy with guilt.

"Legally, he was already gone," the doctor said cautiously. "You gave him another chance, even if it's unconventional. However, he may respond or he may not and if incase he do he might not be the same again with the possibility of him being a living with no understanding as of a new born baby who will never grow mentally.

Dhawan nodded absently, his mind elsewhere. "He has to wake up. I owe him that much."

The doctor made a pause and left the room. Dhawan was alone with the weight of his decision.

Two weeks passed. The boy remained unresponsive, his body slowly regaining strength but his mind a mystery. Dhawan came every day, sitting by the bed in the dark room. He conversed with the boy as if awake, wishing that his words might somehow penetrate the dark gulf that gripped him.

Hey, kid," Dhawan said one morning, pulling up a chair. "You probably don't remember anything, do you? That's okay. When you wake up, you'll have a fresh start. It's a new life," he smiled wryly, but it did not come to his gaze.

Xio Antic.

"You like it? he asked, even though he didn't expect an answer. "I thought it suited you. Xio... strong, unique. And Antic. a name with a history, to put it mildly.

His voice softened. "When you wake up, you'll have everything you need. A name, an identity, a life. And I'll make sure it's a good one."