The feeling was similar, not the same, but some elements were familiar. The feeling of the cool stone under his head. The smell of something medicinal. A dull feverish pain. A great throbbing throughout his whole body. And the mandrill. Scar couldn't remember why he was here. But he knew that he had lived through this before. And then he heard the voice of Mufasa and Ahadi. They were talking, but he couldn't interact with them. They were in the cave with him. He couldn't open his eyes.

In the darkness, their voices played around his ears. Mufasa's voice was light, high, the voice of a cub, and his father's voice floated up from the darkness. It struck him funny that he should even remember that voice. He didn't know why. His position in time confused him. There was Simba, and there was Mufasa and in some way they were one in the same, but he couldn't separate them in that moment, as if the two golden beings had fused together. But now the cub spoke in the voice of his brother, and as he focused, the words drifted up faster and clearer from the darkness, and he could understand them.

"Dad, what does Taka mean?" Mufasa said. They were talking about him. He pricked up his ears, and even though he didn't seem to have a body, the feeling of his ears moving seemed real.

"You're mother and I thought long and hard about what to name you two."

"Well I already know what Mufasa means, but what about Taka? I thought it meant dirt. But why would you name him that?"

Something pushed against Scar's face, and he put a paw up to push it away.

"It does mean dirt," Ahadi said. "Where does everything come from and where does everything go?" His father's deep voice echoed through the darkness, bouncing off walls he couldn't see.

"Dirt?" Mufasa asked.

"Everything does. The trees grow from it. All life comes from the earth, you and me and every other creature that roams over the land. When we die we return to it, and the grass that grows over our bodies feeds the wildebeest. We eat the wildebeest, and when we die the cycle starts over again. And from the dirt grows the most beautiful world imaginable. It's a foundation. Cubs, like you and Taka are, have your whole lives ahead of you."

"So someone with the name Taka will make something beautiful?" Mufasa asked.

"That's what your mother I can only wish for," Ahadi said. Their voices hovered above him like the vultures, and he opened his eyes to see the Mandrill standing in front of him, and he didn't know who he was, Taka or Scar, cub or lion, but his claws were out, and something had him by the mane, and the mandrill had this stick raised above his head, and he knew himself for the briefest of moments, the deposed king Scar, and then it came crashing down over his head.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You can't let that overgrown fleabag sleep in there. He'll have your head for a breakfast muffin."

"I don't want him in there either. But Rafiki says he needs to be somewhere out of the sun."

Voices drifted into the cave, and Scar rolled over, letting out a small groan from pounding pain around his eyes.

"I can't believe you're letting him stay. Earth to Simba, he tried to eat me. And you know that's number one on my list of unforgivable acts, followed closely by near destruction of your home! If you somehow forgot that little fact."

"Timon, I didn't forget. But I want to question him."

He tried to focus on the voices, but the grogginess surrounding him, like a thick morning fog made it near impossible.

"About what? What could he possibly tell you. Simba, are you thinking straight, maybe in that fight he knocked something loose in your head. We're talking about your murderous, revengeful, manipulative uncle, here. I don't even know the guy, and I wouldn't touch him with a thirty foot pole."

"Well, he's not going anywhere even if he wants to. Rafiki, said the pain in his leg would be enough to keep him out for awhile."

"Yeah, but does that monkey know your Uncle or what? Because if you're sleeping in there with him, what are the chances that he doesn't rip your throat out?"

"Timon, didn't you come here for a reason?" Simba said and Scar detected the annoyance.

Everything was heavy, his thoughts slow, and thick, and he struggled against the fog, knowing he should be disturbed by his lack of faculties, but somehow numb to the point where concern was nothing more than a thought, a passing blip. Much easier to keep his head against the cold stones, the throb in his leg, a tiny pulse now, his head heavy and warm. Simba's voice echoed from outside the cave, down the passage, and reached him as if from miles and miles away.

"Did you see Nala?" Simba asked.

"No, but , really Simba, I have something to tell you I think you might like to know. Look, I was on my way back to my home, you know to see Ma, and all my siblings. Anyway I was getting near to the watering hole, and I hear this cackling, and you know my fur just about stands up on its own, because I know that laugh. Like any brave meerkat, I grabbed my tail and dropped behind a rock to do some investigating, and lo and behold, one of those fleabag mutts is making a gazelle into his late morning brunch. And I only saw the one, but pee-yew, did I smell a whole murderous mob of them."

"Okay." Simba said with a sigh. "I figured they wouldn't leave so easily. Where was it exactly?"

"About fifty feet from the waterhole, back in the valley."

"Okay, Timon, I appreciate you coming back to tell me. I'll talk to the lionesses about it. I'm sure someone else caught the scent."

"Simba, just be careful, okay. I'm thinking maybe I should stick around, make sure your scraggly pelt doesn't become someone's breakfast."

"I appreciate your concern, Timon, but everything's going to be okay. It's going to take a while for everything to get back to normal."

"Yeah, especially with the murderous carcass of an uncle in your living room."

His first thought when freed nominally of the fogginess was to move. The cave he was in smelled strongly of Simba and Nala, not being able to understood, he felt fear when he thought of Simba. The urge to get up and move, get away from that scent, gave him the strength to stand. His back leg had been secured with a few pliant green branches, and one thick one, and wrapped in vines and leaves. The smell of medicinal herbs made him think of Rafiki. And his thoughts caught up to his fear. The voices outside had faded away and Simba's scent had lessened, meaning he had left the entrance of the cave.

Though knowing his nephew and the paranoia that now seemed to possess him, he wouldn't have left the cave unguarded, most likely one of his former pride members stood outside right this moment. It was best to stay put for the time being. And moving had sent the now familiar sensation of spinning back to his head, but refusing to lay back down, he sat delicately on his haunches leaning slightly to not aggravate the pain. For some reason it hurt much less then he thought it should. Probably some ointment Rafiki had put on it. The wounds and bite on his back had been caked in mud, and he had the slight recollection to that being one of Rafiki's main methods of treating wounds. It did wonders to soothe the sting and ache.

He thought that perhaps the plants and ointments were giving him a false perception of his own strength. It was amazing how fast Simba and Nala's scent had overtaken his own, mere days since he had been ousted. Shivers accosted him. He supposed from infection. He felt a great gut gripping anger. And he shifted, wanting nothing more than to move, to reclaim his kingdom with one well thought slash of his paw. Or bite straight through Simba's windpipe. But that wouldn't do. No, if only he could reach someone, he could ensure his survival until he was well enough to make another move. And as if on cue, he heard the voice he had wanted to hear.

"Let me in."

"Nala, it's not safe."

"I don't care. I'm the queen. Now let me in."

A/N: Hi to all my readers! I hope you're enjoying the story. I would love to hear from you. Good or bad, let me know what you think of the story so far.