Captain Khalid Rahmani, one of R&AW's finest, is dead to the world. Another soldier who sacrificed himself for his people. Little did they know that nothing is how it appears to be.
He's still alive, albeit with an alternative name and a new persona...
[A/N] This chapter is dedicated to my friends @Tennisgirl711, @Rasnak, @tigershroffy, @aladdinfan. Hope you will like it!
"Hello, sir, it's been a long time," Khalid greeted, smirking as he towered over Kabir's sitting figure, still grabbing the black bag that used to cover his head.
Kabir's heart dropped in his stomach. The features, the stance, the voice, they all indicated that the man standing over him was Khalid. Yet, it was as if he was looking at a hologram, an illusion painted in his mind that he'd never be able to erase. He couldn't comprehend the idea.
Was that the real Khalid?
Saurabh was dead, he killed him in the Netherland, he was there when the dome fell over him, he was there when his body was dragged from under the rubble and was taken to be buried in a remote area under a nameless grave. He was a traitor, he didn't deserve to be remembered.
But then again, that wasn't the traitor. That wasn't the stolen face with the hideous scars marring the wicked features, those weren't the malicious eyes that used to stare back at him with spitefulness and hatred. Maybe at that time, they could change his face, but they certainly couldn't change the eyes. There was an aura of familiarity about this face, about these warm gazes that always looked up to him with respect and gratitude, about that clipped, almost shy smile. It was scarily comforting.
But Khalid died in Marrakesh, sacrificing himself for Kabir and his team without a second thought. He witnessed the grand honoring ceremony that was held for him, and deep down he wished that it was held with Khalid alive and well, standing proud in his military uniform with the golden accolade shining over his chest.
He couldn't deny the pain he felt in his heart every time his image crossed his mind. The young, promising agent that had gone too soon, the newest member of his dysfunctional family, the one who could truly call a friend. Even more than a friend.
He used to see himself in him. The talent, the ambition, and the persistence he used to find in his eyes and in the way he carried every mission on without hesitation reminded him of the young version of himself. He thought that he would never see such a thing again.
Coming to think of it, Kabir never saw the dead body of Khalid, nobody talked about that matter or mentioned it. He thought that maybe it was because the matter was sad to talk about. Could it be possible that he was alive all that time, yet, nobody took it upon themselves to inform him? Why would they hide such an important issue from him? What was in it for them?
But then again, everything was possible in their job, even if it was rising from the dead.
"I'll certainly have a word with Luthra about that once I'm out of here," the notion passed in his mind, cutting its way through the chaotic thoughts and unspoken questions.
