Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters and places mentioned. All the places are fictional and any resemblance is a mere coincidence.
Daya's fever made a turn for the worse in the dead on night. Seriously, this night seemed to last forever, as did the thunderous, tumultuous storm outside. There were times when it seemed the entire house was shaking by the mere force of the raindrops pelting against the roof. In fact, Daya actually woke up once by these pelting raindrops, asking whether or not someone was open-firing a machine gun.
Of course, most of that was due to the fever, but even Abhijeet himself could fairly compare the rain with bullets. His thoughts didn't wander much; the only reason he considered the rain in the first place was because there was nothing he could do, no help could get, until the rain let up.
He had tried to get the landline working. He tried and tried and tried until he didn't have the strength to try again, but it was all to no avail. After filling another bowl with cold rainwater and leaving more bowls out to keep collecting. He found a rag in the kitchen, soaked it in the water and, without bothering to wring it out first, pressed it to Daya's burning forehead. Daya twitched and grunted incoherently, but didn't wake up.
His fever was draining him, little by little, and Abhijeet knew it.
Abhijeet decided to wake him up: hey… Daya… utho… Utho Daya…
Daya tried to roll over on his side, away from Abhijeet, but in the end, all he managed to do was jerk his head and whine quietly in pain. The wound obviously hurt a heck of a lot more than Daya let on.
But no matter. Either way Abhijeet need him to get up.
Abhijeet warningly: Daya utho… mjhe pata hai… tum mjhe sun sakty ho utho…
Daya mumbled: mjhe koi… awaz nhi.. A rhi…
Abhijeet groaned: Daya mery liye or mushkil khari mt karo… utho mjhe check krby do k bukhaar barh to nhi raha.
Daya raised his hand to shove him off, but all Abhijeet had to do was to stop him by holding his wrist: abhi zarorat nhi hai… check krny ki…
Abhijeet: Daya zid choro or utho… or wesy bhi tum iss situation mai nhi ho k mjhe rok sako… Iss liye jaldi utho… warna mjhe zabardasti krni pary gi… or mai nhi chata k zabardasti mai tumhe chot lagy…
Daya under the spell of fever: mjhe nai uthna… leave me alone…
Abhijeet: mai nhi chahta k mai tumhe sirf iss liye marny dun k tum thermometer ni rakh rhy thy…
He waited for a response, but when he got none he called him again: hey Daya… (Daya had fallen asleep again… sigh)
Abhijeet pinched the bridge of his nose: hey bhagwan…
Abhijeet was feeling guilty, as he was the reason Daya got injured so badly. He took the bullet meant for Abhijeet. If Daya hadn't jumped in when he did… the bullet would have gone through Abhijeet's back… straight through his heart… and out his chest.
He managed to get the thermometer under Daya's tongue, and he waited impatiently for the reading. After checking the reading, Abhijeet discovered that fever had risen a half a degree, so it wasn't that much higher, but it was still high enough to raise concern. Abhijeet had actually managed to make it go down a few notches earlier. But now, his work had been balanced out. Nothing he accomplished earlier mattered anymore.
Abhijeet: dammit… hunh…
Despite his fever, Daya was shivering, and even though Abhijeet wanted to get his temperature down as soon as possible, he couldn't leave Daya to suffer like that, so he pulled the blanket further over Daya's shoulders (he'd had to take away the other two earlier – that was one of the main things that had got his fever down), re-wet the rag on his forehead, and headed out to switch out the bowl of warm water for cold water.
All the while, the night and the storm plunged on.
An hour or two later found Abhijeet with his nose in a small map of the area he'd in his backpack, searched for the nearest civilized building, the nearest hospital, heck, even the nearest phone box, but none of them were a short distance from their current location.
And besides, even if Abhijeet could make the trip, there was no way Daya could, and Abhijeet wasn't about to leave the lad alone in the state he was in. Abhijeet cursed himself. He had dropped his communication device, so he honestly had no idea where it was. He'd had it during the fight with criminal, but not afterwards.
They had no means of communication. No nearby phone boxes, hospitals, or police stations . They were, in a sense, in the middle of nowhere, in an abandoned part of a low-life city, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.
He only hoped that someone from the CID finds them. He just hoped someone would get worried about them and tried to find them.
Sir, Sir
Abhijeet stiffened and leapt from the creaky office chair he'd been sitting in. Those shouts…they'd come from the living room…and wasn't…
Wasn't Daya in the living room?
Alone?
Abhijeet shouted: "Dayaaaa !", and he made a break for the door.
He stopped at the last second, avoiding a head-on collision with yours truly. Daya stood in the hallway, by the doorframe, gasping for breath. He looked dead, actually, like a robotic corpse, but more than that, he looked terrified. He was pale, his one arm, placed against the wall, helped keep his balance, his other arm was wrapped tightly his stomach.
Abhijeet demanded: Daya , kiya hua? ( hurrying forward to grab Daya by his shoulders, just as he began to fall forward).
Abhijeet: kiya hua… ain…
He reached for his gun, suddenly overwhelmed by a fierce protective – almost Brotherly – instinct. But his gun didn't seem to be around.
Abhijeet: dammit lagta hai gun bhi gir gai…
Daya panted: wo…hans… hans rhi hai…( Abhijeet's attention was drawn to him again) or or… gana… gana… bhi gaa rhi hain…
Abhijeet's panic dimmed, but his confusion skyrocketed. What the…what the h-hell: tum kis bary mai baat kr rhy ho… pehly idhar ao betho… gir jao gy… chalo…
Daya shrieked: FILES… (and yes, now he definitely sounded and looked loads younger than he was.) files has rhi hain mjh pr… mera mazak ura rhi hain…
Abhijeet stared into the his haunted eyes. Daya stared back. And then, wordlessly, Abhijeet slammed his hand against his forehead.
Abhijeet: bukhaar taiz ho raha hai… (Dammit , and now Daya was delusional, too, and childish. Wasn't that just the icing on the cake.)
Daya furiously: bukhar gaya bhar mai… ab files ka kiyaa karun… dance bhi kr rhi hain… ACP Sir daanty gay ab…
Abhijeet had left a small stack of files on the bedside table; he had found while digging around in the study. And now Daya was hallucinating, and the files were a prime object for these hallucinations.
It was almost hilarious.
Almost.
Abhijeet said: chalo ao tum meray sath (steadying Daya again when he nearly toppled over.) tumhe shaant hony ki zarorat hai… warna tum apny apko or nuqsan pohancha lo gay… (He still didn't know how Daya actually got up in the first place; most soldiers laid low for a long time after getting shot.)
Daya said tiredly, jabbing a finger over his shoulder: lekin wo… files…
Abhijeet said: unki fikar na karo mai dekh lunga…
Daya said: phir theek hai… (and his eyes were rapidly becoming less and less focused.) phir mai… phir mai… so… so (His knees buckled, his eyes shut, and he fell forward.)
Abhijeet was already holding him by his shoulders, so it didn't take much to catch Daya altogether. Besides, he had been expecting him to collapse sooner or later. With a heavy sigh, he hefted Daya into his arms and strode back down the hallway.
Daya's fever had definitely gone up.
A/N:
Thank you to all those who reviewed. Well the number of reviews still not reaching its mark.
Angelbetu: hahahahaha... Loved the way you shared your feelings. Well ab log reviews nhi dy rhy mai kiya karun... Again maine puri story likh li hai... 😉😉
Again a reminder for all, please review for further updates. Whole story is already done so it's upto you guys when I update it.