Dave texts him the address within a minute of getting off the phone, but KD's hands are shaking so badly he can barely read.

He's seen his share of injured and dead people, but nothing can prepare him for this. Nothing ever will.

The address texted is about an hour's drive away. It's a lonely and deserted stretch of road flanked by trees on the one hand and the wall of a compound housing an abandoned construction project on the other. It's perfect for a quiet drive—probably why Varun and Shefali decided to come here.

The accident happened when the car swerved off the middle of the road and went and hit the wall, the driver's side of it taking in the impact of the collision. Dave meets him as he steps out of his own car a few feet away from the site. 'It's bad, you see'-an understatement, because it's worse than KD imagined—'Shefali was driving and it looks like she was killed on impact. Just look at how the car is practically meshed into the wall. Getting her out of the driver's seat was like trying to scoop sauce out of a battered tin can'.

KD winces at the mental image. 'Where's Varun?'

'He's relatively all right', Dave says. 'Relatively, which means he's got a gash on his forehead and wounds on his elbow and knees. He was unconscious when we got here, but the medics in the ambulance looked him over and said it's nothing to admit him to hospital for.'

'Where is he?'

'We moved him', Dave says, 'He's sitting in the back of my jeep. He's traumatized, anyone would be. Hasn't spoken a word since we go there.'

Varun's sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees, seemingly unmindful of how painful it must be to bend his wounded legs. His chin rests on his arms and there's a blank, faraway look in his eyes. He clearly isn't aware of their presence. KD steps forward and places a gentle hand on his head, careful to avoid the bandaged gash on his forehead—'Hello, Varun'.

Varun looks up and the haunted look in his eyes feels like a physical blow to KD. It's something he's never seen before in the vibrant and intensely alive Varun and doesn't wish to again: it reminds him of a frightened, vulnerable young animal. He keeps running his fingers through the boy's thick dark brown curls. Varun hasn't reacted, at all. It's frankly unsettling, and KD isn't even sure Varun has registered his presence, but he hopes he can draw a little comfort from the gesture.

'He lives alone, doesn't he?' Dave says. KD nods.

'Well, he can't for the night', Dave replies, 'He's hurt his head and someone needs to keep an eye on him to see if he has concussions or if he's throwing up. Injuries on the head tend to deteriorate very quickly.'

'I'll take him', KD says without a second thought. 'Any prescribed medicines? Instructions?'

'Take him to a doctor for medicines when he's a little more stable', Dave says, 'right now, I'll tell you what the medics told me. Take him home, give him a little light food to eat and put him to bed. If he falls asleep, wake him up every three hours and shine a light in his eyes to check for concussion. No bright lights, and noise kept to a minimum'.

KD nods. His car's parked up front and, as he turns to get it, Varun reacts.

KD's just turned around when Varun's arms come up around his waist and Varun buries his face against KD's back. He's trembling violently, but not crying. KD freezes at the sudden contact—all the more unexpected because Varun had been looking down during his conversation with Dave and they'd had no idea what he'd been thinking or whether he realized at all they were talking—but only for a moment. He turns around as gently as he can in Varun's surprisingly strong grip and holds him close, one arm around the thin shaking shoulders and the other on top of his head.

'I'm not going anywhere', he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. It sounds like he's speaking to a very young child. 'I'm going to take you home, yes? Aren't you tired? We'll go home, and you can eat whatever you want to, and you'll be okay. I'll be there. I'll be there for as long as you need me to be. It's okay. You're safe'.

Dave's watching with a look of barely concealed astonishment on his face. KD doesn't blame him: he's never been one for physical contact and, while he is quiet and gentle, he's not exactly soft. He's not the kind people come to when they're trying to deal with emotions or when they need comfort (except, of course, of the legal kind). It's so out of character for him that Dave's probably wondering whether he's been knocked on the head as well. KD doesn't care, he cannot bring himself to care, honestly; when it comes to Varun, nothing's off the table.

It takes some time, but Varun's finally calmed down enough to let him go. KD rubs his back and practically runs to his car. It takes only a minute, and soon Dave's helping Varun get in. There's no expression of pain on his face but he's limping badly, and KD wonders how he's been sitting with his knees bent for so long.

Dave's about to put him in the passenger seat next to KD, but KD shakes his head and gestures to the back. Varun's just had an accident where he was sitting up front, he's seen the girl he loved bleed and die next to him, he really doesn't need to relive it anymore.

They've taken Shefali to the hospital and informed her family, and there will be a postmortem once they agree to it. The police will also want to talk to Varun—KD knows the only reason they haven't done so yet is because Varun wasn't in a position to say anything. Shefali's parents don't know him but they must have heard of Varun; KD makes a mental note to ask Varun later if he wants to meet them, or to visit Shefali one last time in the hospital.

Later, he thinks, we'll decide all that later. Varun's fiddling with his fingers in the back seat, and it appears as if his trembling's lessened somewhat. First, let's get you through the night.

It's okay. You're okay.