CH 42 Drink it Sink it
The clock ticked past midnight
The monitors still glowed dim blue, silent sentinels of chaos.
Paperwork, files, and half-drunk cups of coffee littered the chamber.
Aditya had dozed off on the leather sofa, exhaustion finally claiming him after twenty straight hours of field intel and crisis coordination.
Then the silence broke with a faint gasp. His fingers twitched, his brow furrowed, and his breath quickened.
Smoke.
Screams.
Fire crackling.
In his dream, no, in that memory the house burned like a monster breathing red.
Flames licked the walls, devouring everything.
A young boy barely twelve stumbled barefoot through the collapsing hallway, his face smeared with soot and tears.
"Baby... chotti ... kaha ho tum?" he cried, choking on smoke.
His small hands tore through the debris, searching desperately for the sound of a baby's cry.
Somewhere in that inferno, a cradle had been where his baby sister lay, barely a month old.
He ran room to room. "Please... please, ro mat," he whimpered.
But there was no answer. Just the hiss of fire and the weight of loss crushing his chest.
Then a beam collapsed. A blinding flash and everything went black.
Aditya jolted awake with a gasp, sweat dripping down his temples. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
"Aditya," Aarav's calm voice cut through the dark. he passes a glass of water to him. He closed his laptop and looked up, concern soft in his eyes. "You saw that nightmare again, didn't you?"
Aditya tooks the glass and gulps in one go. and puts the glass on table with a sound of. Thud.
Aditya didn't answer at first. He just pressed his palms to his face, elbows resting on his knees. "It never stops, Aarav. Every damn night. That fire... her cry... and then silence."
Aarav stood, walking over.
He'd seen this too many times the same haunted look in his brother's eyes.
He placed a reassuring hand on Aditya's shoulder. "It's been years," he said quietly.
"You've turned every city upside down, every record, every orphanage. You'll find her. You just haven't reached the right place yet."
Aditya let out a long, shaky exhale. "She was just a baby, Aarav. Barely a month old. I was twelve — useless. I couldn't save her." His voice cracked, raw with guilt that had never healed.
Aarav's grip on his shoulder tightened slightly. "You were a child who lost everything in one night. You survived, Aditya. You built yourself up from ashes. You've saved countless others since."
He paused, his gaze distant for a moment a flicker of his own ghosts surfacing.
" my parents were killed, when I was twenty one, I lost my reason too.
But that camp... that day I met you, after a years of my parents's death I found something again a brother.
We may not share blood, but I won't let you carry this alone anymore. "
Aditya looked up, eyes wet but steady now. "You sound like a damn therapist."
Aarav chuckles faintly. "Comes free with the job description."
They sat there for a moment two men forged from tragedy, bound by unspoken loyalty.
Then Aarav added, quietly, "We'll find her, Aditya. Your sister's out there somewhere... maybe closer than you think."
Aditya leaned back slowly, the weight of years pressing on his shoulders.
His eyes softened, distant almost lost in time.
Then, wordlessly, he reached under the collar of his black shirt and pulled out a thin silver chain. Hanging from it was a small heart-shaped gold pendant, worn and scratched with age.
He turned it over between his fingers, his breath hitching slightly.
With a quiet click, he opened it. Inside was an old, faded photograph its corners frayed, the image almost blurred by time.
It showed a small, happy family a man and woman in simple clothes, standing in front of a modest house.
The mother was holding a baby girl barely a month old, swaddled in a soft blanket, her tiny hand visible.
Beside them stood a boy, twelve years old, grinning proudly his arm around his mother's leg.
"That's all I've got left," Aditya said quietly, his voice rough but steady. "My father, my mother... and her."
Aarav looked at the photo, his expression unreadable, but his eyes sharp and steady softened with understanding.
Aditya's thumb brushed the image of the baby. "You know, Aarav," he continued, his voice dipping into memory, "my mother used to say something about her. She said my sister had a birthmark right on her lower back. A small sword-shaped mark."
He smiled faintly a sad, nostalgic curve of lips. "She used to say that mark was a sign. That she was a gift from God. That one day she'd grow up to be someone's strength... someone's fire. That she'd cut through darkness like a blade of light."
Aarav's gaze flickred half in thought, half in emotion. "A sword..." he repeated softly, the image searing into his mind.
Aditya closed the locket, his fingers trembling slightly.
"Every time I go to a new city, I look for her. Every time we take down a trafficking ring, I check the files for missing children. twenty one years, Aarav... twenty one years, and still nothing."
Aarav rested a hand on his shoulder again, firm, grounding. "We'll find her, Aditya. The world can hide faces, but not fate."
The heavy silence in the chamber broke with the sound of hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Kabir and Raghav entered, both still in their tactical black, their expressions sharp and alert.
"Bhai," Kabir started, his tone clipped, "surveillance team reports—" He stopped mid-sentence, the words dying on his tongue the moment his eyes fell on Aditya.
Aditya was sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, the pendant still dangling from his hand. His face was pale, eyes glassy, lost somewhere far beyond the walls of the base.
Aarav stood beside him, one hand on his shoulder, silent but steady.
Raghav glanced at Aarav, reading the unspoken tension. "What happened?" he asked quietly, his voice lower than usual.
Aarav exhaled softly. "He saw it again," he said the words simple, but they carried the weight of years.
Kabir's jaw tightened. He knew what it meant. That same nightmare. That same burning house that had haunted Aditya every night for years.
Without saying another word, Kabir crossed the room and crouched in front of him. "Oye..." he said softly, his rough tone suddenly laced with brotherly warmth. "How many times do I tell you, soldier? Dreams can't burn you twice."
Aditya blinked, a weak, tired smile forming. "Feels real every time," he muttered.
Kabir huffed a small laugh and pulled him into a half-hug, clapping his back hard. "That's because you're stubborn as hell," he said. "You keep fighting ghosts instead of sleeping them off."
Even Raghav usually the quiet observer stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on the back of the couch. "Kabir's right," he said, his voice even and calm. "You need rest, not revenge on your own memories."
Kabir smirked, still holding him. "And maybe some whiskey. You always think clearer after that."
Aditya chuckled weakly, shaking his head. Aarav allowed a faint smile too the rare kind that only came when all four were together.
They sank into the leather sofas, glasses clinking softly as a rare, quiet evening settled over the base.
For the first time that night the tension loosened into something almost ordinary brothers sharing a drink, trading barbs to keep the dark at bay.
raghav raises his glass leaning forward on arm chair saying, ''Ah. Days been like this again.''
Raghav sips his drink, flatly says'' From your Ass''
then kabir's phone rings his eyes wide.