Round Shot

Round Shot 3

Abhijeet shouted furiously: aargghhh, yeh kesy ho gaya??? (he practically tore up the house, rummaging through cabinets and boxes like his life depended on it) ufff kuch to hoga yahan...!!!

After finding there was nothing of use in the kitchen, he tore down the hallway and into the house's small bathroom, all the while cursing and shouting. Outside, thunder rolled and lightning crashed. Other than the lamp Abhijeet lit earlier, the house was completely dark.

He finally managed to find a second first aid kit, this one coming more equipped than the first, complete with a thermometer. Once he had everything he needed, he raced back into the living room – back to Daya.

He took a bowl from the kitchen and put it in the rain. He shook Daya's shoulder a bit, tried to wake him up, he said while trying not to let his fear show in his voice: Daya, utho... (Daya didn't move) utho Daya mjhe check krny do bukhaar... utho Daya...

Daya didn't wake up. Abhijeet resisted an urge to moan, looks like he had to revert to drastic measures: Daya foran utho... It's an order...

Daya murmured without opening his eyes: yes Sssir... (Abhijeet unconsciously sighed in relief, and at that, Daya opened his glazed eyes half-way, staring up at Abhijeet blearily.

Abhijeet said, having a thermometer in his hand: daraao mt mjhe iss tarah... theek ho tum??? (he took a sigh of relief seeing Daya conscious) (POV) kam az kam, behosh nhi hai... lekin yeh aam bukhaar nhi hai itna to mjhe maloom hai...

Daya in a weak laugh: dar gaye...??? Agar marny dety to abhi apny... ghar araam kr raha hoty...

Abhijeet: chup kr k lety raho... zyada bak bak krny ki zaroorat nai hai... munh kholo or yeh thermometer rakho munh main...

Daya: lekin mai kyun... (Daya started but cut off when Abhijeet took the moment of weakness and shoved the thermometer into Daya's mouth. Daya grunted, and when Abhijeet held a finger to his lips as a sign to 'be quiet', Daya groaned).

Daya had a bad habit of chewing on something when he was working, like a pen or toothpick or a straw, but when he had a thermometer between his teeth, he tried to chew it.

Abhijeet: ssshhhhhh... thermometer ko chabao nhi...

It was not fair. Daya didn't deserve this. Why Daya is suffering from Abhijeet's carelessness. Abhijeet is feeling guilty for the current situation. It was his carelessness in counting criminal's weapons during the fight? Why?

Either way, it still wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair, Especially to Daya (he recently came to know about Daya being orphan).

Abhijeet took the thermometer out, he read the reading displayed on the thermometer and cringed.

103.

Abhijeet POV: ohhh noo... mjhe pehly kyun nai pata chala k bukhaar itna ziada hai...

Daya slurred, eyelids drooping: kkitna... bu..bukhaar hai... Sir...

Abhijeet didn't want to worry him unnecessarily: tum uski fikar na karo...

Abhijeet took the water bowl and started putting his handkerchief dipped in water on his Forehead: thori dair mai utar jaye ga bukhaar.

Daya blinked twice. He looked disbelieving, but he just closed his eyes.

Abhijeet moved his hand from Daya's forehead to his shoulder: thora araam kr lo... baad mai jaga dunga...

Daya slept. Abhijeet got up and started looking for some more clothes he could use as a cold compress as his handkerchief was not enough.

Daya bolted awake while at the same time a particularly loud bit of lightning crashed through the sky. Rain pattered against the rooftop threateningly, like it was trying to break through the roof by force, and Daya inhaled in several deep, shaky, harsh breaths that grated his throat and made his chest ache. He could feel himself sweating profusely, and wasn't because of his fever, nor was it because of his multiple blankets- he knew this much.

It'd happened again.

Another nightmare. Another memory. Another cruel reminder of the people he had not managed to save. His mother. His father. Abhijeet Sir...

He sucked in a breath that was too deep for his dry throat, and he instantly broke into a fit of coughing. He hid his face in the crook of his arm, but the coughing continued, nothing he did stopped it. A sharp pain shot through his torso, and he wrapped his other arm around his wounded torso, trying to keep the strain off of his wounds.

Sitting up had been a bad idea.

It took him a few moments before he noticed a hand rubbing between his shoulder blades. Daya fell unusually dizzy and lightheaded, which was why he didn't stop Abhijeet. Abhijeet helped him in controlling his coughing fit.

Abhijeet: arram sy... relax... saans lo... relax... gehri saans lo... (gradually Daya's fit of choking diminished and turned into nothing more than a few feeble coughs).

He nodded shakily and did just that, trying to steady his breathing. He pulled his arm away from his mouth and looked down at his skin. He was not coughing up any blood, which means that the bullet missed his lungs, and he was not vomiting blood assured him that his stomach is also safe. It seemed like he was lucky. He??? Lucky??? what a joke, that's what he told to himself.

He fell against the back of the couch, exhausted, wanting nothing more than to sleep and sleep and stay sleeping for a very long time. But at the same time sleep seemed to haunt him right now, and his fever wasn't helping.

Abhijeet patted his back until he was sure Daya was breathing normally again. He folded his hands, waited for a beat or two, and then spoke.

Abhijeet: baat krna chahogy uss baary mai jo abhi hua???

Abhijeet wished that Daya tell him about this sudden waking up and all. But Daya refused without a single thing. He didn't want to talk about it to anyone.

Daya: nhi...

Abhijeet respected his privacy and didn't want to force him saying anything he wasn't comfortable with. No, the real problem was the fact that Daya spoke like he was ashamed. Ashamed of himself. And yes that was a problem.

Abhijeet squeezed Daya's shoulder in reassurance: koi baat nhi... agar tum nhi batana chahty to mai samaj skta hun... don't worry mai tumhy force nhi karun ga.

Daya sighed and shut his eyes in apparent relief, glad he did not have to recount his nightmare verbally. It was enough to imagine it, but speaking it and describing it would only be worse: hmm... wesy mjhe pata nhi... heh... heh... tha k aap care... bhi krty hain...

Abhijeet: mai apny saathiyon ki hamesha qadar krta hun... or care bhi... mjhe nhi pata tha k tum mery liye iska ulat sochty ho...

Daya leaned back into the couch, curling in on himself and bundling three heavy blankets around his shoulders. He knew he had a fever, because of how lightheaded and dizzy he felt, but at the same time, he felt chilled, like someone was dropping ice-cubes on his back, so the blankets were necessary.

Daya: nhi... wo ap...hr waqt daant'ty... hain... to... dar... lagta hai ap...se... lagta hai... ap sirf... kaaam...

Abhijeet put his hand together: kaam k sath sath mai apny subordinates ki bhi fikar krta hun... haan bs gussa thora zyada aata hai...

Daya looked up at him, eyes only half open, so really, he was probably only half-aware of the situation, but regardless of this, he managed a soft, exhausted smile: bs... thora???

Abhijeet sighed heavily and stared at the ground. Well, what was he supposed to say to that? If he disagreed, Daya would say he was in denial of the truth, so in the end, Abhijeet settled for agreement, saying: sirf ghaltiyan krny pr he gussa krta hun...

Daya with closed eyes, his breathing slowing down bit by bit, but just when Abhijeet thought he was asleep, Daya mumbled: hmmm... gussa krty hain... aap... mjhe... pasand hai...

Abhijeet sighed.

A/N: Do tell how it was in the comments...