Chapter 1: Survivor's Guilt

A/N: Hey guys! Guess I'm back sooner than I imagined myself to be. :P

Well anyways, this story deals with the aftermath of Behrupiya. This once again, will sort of be an AU, and also this story will be containing a special element that I've been yearning to try out for ages now. But that special element will only be revealed next chapter. :D

The story will be a tri-chapter one. :D I had this idea almost towards the ending of Tryst with Destiny and I needed to pen this down as soon as I could.

Not keeping you'll any longer now. ;)

Happy Reading! :D

Abhijeet sat in the living room, reading a magazine. Even though he flipped through the pages with a mild interest on his face, his mind was far away from the various gossip and spice filled columns of the magazine. His mind was once again lurking into the realms of the past, but this past was different. This was not the usual past he had to endure, and in a way was completely fed up enduring. No. This was a very recent past, the past of the previous week where he had lost his best friend, only for him to be returned back to him after a couple of hours, unscathed and miraculously alive.

This wasn't just a usual case of kidnapping and it's immediate after effects. No again. This was the case where Death had thwarted them all, despite their meticulous efforts to keep it at bay. Almost thwarted. Daya had managed to escape Death's vice-like grip only to return back to the mortal world, into the happy arms of the only place he had called home, and the only people he called family.

But that was not what disturbed Abhijeet that much. What disturbed him was the fact that Death had been there for him, and his best friend had thrown himself into harm's way and steered trouble towards himself. It was not as though he, himself, had steered his way out of trouble. He was tortured badly for a week, barely any food, not the mention the adorable living conditions he was made to stay in. Most of the people would have cracked within a day or two, but not him.

But was that any use at all? All his resistance brought about was pain and suffering to his nearest and dearest, not forgetting the fact that his best friend had to endure much more in order to prove his innocence and stand up for the truth. But there was something more to this affair. Characteristic of him, guilt was the main emotion that coursed through him, followed by deep, resentful loathing towards the people who had caused such chaos in their life. But the guilt he felt was not the usual one. It was more of survivor's guilt.

But along with this hint came a new question, the only question and what if situation that his mind kept pressing upon him - what if it was me?

He had been putting up an excellent appearance at work, almost as excellent as the one Daya was holding, as though what he had just gone through was something had happened really often and was something he was used to. Abhijeet caught Daya looking wary several times a day, and one or twice, he even found him getting a bit twitchy. Abhijeet himself was facing the exact same issue though the reason was different, yet the post effects being the same, perhaps a bit more twitchy than necessary.

But this was not a temporary PTSD that Abhijeet had been going through. The thought that what if the entire thing had happened to him seemed to have latched itself onto him like a leech, the thought feverishly racing through his mind at every free moment he had. The thought soon became an obsession with him and that thought even interfered with his concentration level at work - a fact not gone amiss by anyone.

It had been a fortnight since Daya had been discharged from the hospital. His vitals had returned to normal, and he was perfectly alright, except for the occasional bouts of ache he felt in his chest when he was doing anything very exertive, during which he would be severely reprimanded by everyone in the Bureau. However, miraculous as it was, the focus had been so much over Daya that for once, in spite of being held captive for over a week, Abhijjet managed to neglect treatment without anyone's attention truly being on it.

Abhijeet had not even got himself any medicines to suffice for the wounds or his vitals but instead followed a blind treatment, having a painkiller two times a day, along with a mix of this ointment and that, all prescribed to him at an earlier time in life. It helped to a certain extent, but Abhijeet still found his body sore and tired from its tough encounters from the previous days, and now somewhere along the lines, he deeply regretted not getting himself any treatment.

He was lost deep in thought, when he put too much pressure on his back, and a painful gasp of pain left his lips. Cursing himself for his lack of attention, he walked up front to the nearest mirror and stared at his reflection. Without his façade at work, he looked ghostly. His eyes had dark circles around it and looked deeply tired. His shoulder had got a hunch, chipped off cut and he practically looked worse for wear.

Contemplating slightly for a few moments, before making his mind up about something, he took off his shirt and turned himself at a 270° position, so that he could see his back as much as his view allowed. His back had a raw-red grid look about it right at the center as though someone had charred the skin by burning. Cringing at the sight of it, he quickly took out an ointment from the drawer below the mirror and started dabbing at his wounds with it, hissing with pain as the wound stung him with all its might.

Putting his shirt on once again, he went and sat back on the couch, his mind wandering over the same dwellings of the previous days. It must have not been more than ten minutes later, when his door bell went off. Surprised at the hour of the call, but convinced that it must be him, he quickly reached the entrance door and almost wrenched it open with excitement and fear alike, only to be greeted by a disappointment falling like a brick in his stomach.

For standing at the door was not Daya, but was someone else entirely. In fact, as a matter of fact, Abhijeet was convinced that he had never seen this person before. Giving the person a mildly curious look, he put across his question as politely as he could.

"Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Dr. Jay Bhatia." He pulled out a card from an inner coat pocket and presented it to Abhijeet. The latter took it, without really seeing it, and nodded his head.

"I think you've got the wrong address, I'm not-"

"I'm here on ACP Pradyuman's request."

"Sir's request? At this hour?" Abhijeet felt highly surprised. What he should have actually felt was suspicion, but that happened to be the last thing roaming on his mind. He observed the doctor clearly - he must have been a guy in his mid-thirties, with a carelessly handsome look on his face and kind, brown eyes, his body moderately well-built and his height an inch more than his own. There was a very warm and friendly air about the man, and a smile that never seemed to fade.

"Yes, I understand that the timing is rather odd. These are not my usual consulting hours as well. But your boss sent me here because he believes that you've been looking a little… unwell these days and you'd refuse meeting me if he would have told you about this appointment in advance."

Abhijeet felt a frown crease his forehead. But surely, this must be a mistake? This must be a doctor for Daya, not him. And judging by the looks of the doctor, he had the airs of being either a psychiatrist or a general councilor. He now read the card in his hand that read 'Dr. Jay Bhatia, Psychiatrist and General Councilor.' He voiced his thoughts as nonchalantly as he could.

"I really think you've got the wrong address."

"Are you Sr. Inspector Abhijeet?"

"Yes."

"Then I don't think that I've made a mistake." The same smile once again and seemed to disarm Abhijeet's counter-attacks. The smile was getting Abhijeet unnerved, and with half-an irritable jerk, he beckoned him into the house.

"If you want to double-check it with your boss, you're more than welcome to."

"No, I don't think there's a need for that."

Abhijeet could think about a thousand reasons as to what he did was blatant stupidity, but yet his instinct seemed as solid and resolute as ever. Atleast in these many years of duty, he had learnt when to trust his instincts and when to not. This was one of the times when he did. There were a whole lot of things that was wrong with the situation. Abhijeet's hand twitched several times towards his pocket to confirm and double check with his boss, but each time his hand touched the phone, he felt the purpose drain out of him.

For someone as twitchy as him these days, he felt eerily calm at the sight of the new stranger. It was as though he mind was bewitched, put in a trance, where nothing required logic anymore. It had to be, because… well it had to be. Besides, he had been yearning to get all the thoughts out of his head that was eating and chewing his brains inside out, and was so intense that he had altogether now stopped dreaming about his dead mother. And there was no better way to do this than have a professional look you over, even though he detested it.

Beckoning the doctor to take up a place of the couch, he sat on the adjacent armchair. Asking him for refreshments, which the doctor completely refused, Abhijeet and Jay finally took their positions on the couch and chair respectively and gazed at each other in a dignified silence. Breaking the mounting silence after a few moments, Jay spoke.

"Your boss had told me about the entire scenario so you don't need to worry about renarrating it."

"Oh."

"How's your back now? I don't expect there's any improvement in it, but still."

"What?"

It took several minutes for Abhijeet to register the whole question. It was completely wrong. Not the question of course, but the content. For someone who had been here on the request of his boss and was let known the entire scenario, he should not have known about his back at all. Narrowing his eyes at the doctor, whose smile was never wavering, he let slip the question before he knew it had left his lips.

"How do you know about that?"

Jay did not reply at all. Abhijeet glared at him for several minutes, while he tightened the grip over his service gun steadily, but no such opportunity came. Jay looked at him in the same happy manner, as though this question was not caused him any discomfort. After several more minutes of useless waiting, Abhijeet gave up.

"There isn't any improvement." Abhijeet had almost expected him to remove and give him some sort of ointment to help erase the scars on his back, but no such luck. Jay gazed at him with a mild interest now, his fingers interlocked under his chin, which was co-incidentally acting as a support.

"So tell me, what happened with you when you were kidnapped?" The question was expected, yet Abhijeet felt a pain bubbling inside him while recollecting the events.

"When I first regain consciousness, I found myself in a glass chamber along with my service gun. They'd left a bottle of water and some eatables inside. I was left in the same place for three whole days."

"How was the glass chamber? Was it like a room or-?"

"No, it was like an erect coffin." Abhijeet shut his eyes feeling nauseous at the thought of it. Jay was understanding. He proceeded further without dabbling much.

"What happened after three days?"

"They kept me at a warehouse, tied to a chair with a metallic grid. They kept me hungry for two days and tortured me. I got these from there."

This time, Jay did not ask him what had happened. It was pretty obvious that he must have been electrocuted by means of torture for classified information. He proceeded further.

"What happened next?"

"Then they kept me in another room of the same warehouse, but they just tied my hands and feet and left me like that. I had no strength to try to escape any more. I'd nearly given up."

"When did Daya arrive?"

"I think a day or two later. He'd freed me from that prison and I…" Abhijeet shut his eyes in anguish this time. His pain was now quickly turning into boiling pits of anger. "I wish it were me. That bullet had my name upon it, not Daya's. Had I been the one to get shot, Daya would have been spared the suffering. Maybe-"

"Maybe what?" Jay's so far calm expression had now turned into one of shrewd understanding.

"Maybe nobody would have to bear that much. Maybe it's best that I'm not a part of their lives."

"What's wrong what you, Abhijeet? How can you even think like that?!"

"I'm not joking, doctor, but it's the truth."

"Do you really believe this, then?"

"Yes."

Jay looked at him for a good one minute, studying something that was apparently way out of Abhijeet's understanding. And suddenly, as though someone had zapped him back to life, he got back on his guard. It was as though the trance was finally broken. He slapped himself mentally for having behaved so stupidly and for letting a stranger, no less a psychiatrist who was more of a fishy character, enter his house so late in the night. He tried to keep his panic at bay, by keeping a straight face but it was getting difficult by the moment.

Finally sighing, Jay let out a small yawn before saying, "Alright, if this is what you want, so be it."

Jay got up from his place and walked towards Abhijeet, who now seemed to have become rooted on the spot. He tried to get up and run, but his legs wouldn't budge. Jay reached near him and caught one of his shoulders in a vice-like grip, while he removed a pocket-watch from his coat pocket. The moment the cover of the pocket-watch flew open, a blue light flooded the room. While Jay adjusted something over the watch, Abhijeet suddenly felt his world covered in a fusion of sounds and colors, before he felt himself sucked into nothingness.

The living room was now empty.

There! :D First chapter done. Well, I decided to leave this on a suitable cliffhanger for more suspense. ;)

Well, sorry for any typos and constructive criticisms will be more than welcome! :D