Me: Ah, I'm getting better!
Others: … well… you are a little.
Me: Yes! I am putting in plenty of detail, and everything! IT'S PERFECT! Now what to do next?
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Me: (Dancing) oh yeah, oh yeah, I got reviews!
Hiei: (Grabs me and forces me into a chair where other tie me down).
Me: WHAT! HIEI? You're in the wrong story.
Hiei: No I'm not, I wanted to say thanks for all the reviews this time.
Me: Hiei… saying thank you. OH GLORIOUS DAY! HIEI IS NO LONGER A SELFISH ARAGONT IDIOT!
Hiei: (Sweat-drops) Yeah, anyways thanks for the review everyone. We'll go into much more detail next time. K?
Chapter 3: Others Like Me
The alarms echoed in Scar's ears as he raced through the rows of cells, all of who were empty. Soldiers appeared, blocking his exit. He slammed his hand to the wall, which blew up, leaving him a clear path to the outside, which he took.
His body was already protesting, but he ignored the pain. The wound in his shoulder opened and blood soaked through the bandages. Ok, he'd have to get help for that.
He took a sharp turn, his clothes soaked from the rain that was still falling from the other night. It was almost pitch black outside. They'd never find him.
The sounds of shouts alerted him to the coming enemies.
But they sure as hell would try.
He jumped over a wall, and raced down an alley, jumping a second wall.
He spotted flashlight beams hitting the ground and buildings nearby. He needed to find a hiding place quickly, very quickly.
Voices were soon apparent over the roar of the rain, and thunder.
He jumped over a trashcan, and landed with a gasp of pain. His leg was hurting worse then every. Pain sheared through his body, intensifying the pain from his other wounds.
The sounds were drawing nearer.
Scar looked around in the darkness, hoping to see something. He forced himself up, and hurried as fast as he could to the left. His foot suddenly slammed against something very solid, and very low, sending him flying forward into a river. A beam of light landed right where he had been seconds before as his head slammed against a rock, knocking him out.
"We lost him sir!"
"KEEP LOOKING!"
Sunlight lit the lands about fifty miles from central. A small town was stationed there, safe from the feared military as long as they did not do anything.
Ishbalians were walking around the streets of the village, some working outside on something, others working in the fields.
On the banks of the river that flowed from central to there, lay a young man, unconscious. His clothes were torn from the trip down river. The injuries he had were open, and bleeding, and there were new ones too, mostly simple scratches. A locket was clutched tightly in his hand, the chain tangled around his fingers.
A group of young boys and girls walked over, intent on either playing, doing laundry, or cleaning food.
"WHOA!"
"Oh my!"
"QUICK! GET SOMEONE!"
"Is he alive?"
"He's breathing!"
"Who is he?"
"He's one of us!"
A few adults raced over to see what the children were so interested in.
"Everyone, get back! Oh dear, quickly, let's get him cleaned up, he won't last much longer!"
The village was in an uproar about the stranger that washed up on the banks. Rumors spread quickly like in the city. About who he was, his condition and such.
People were trying to see who it was, and soon, the healer became annoyed, and forbid anyone from entering except the elders, and him.
"Isn't it exciting," a girl about 25 asked her friends, who were talking excitedly about the stranger?
"Yes!"
"Of course!"
"I wonder if he's cute?"
"What about you Lila?"
The girl addressed as Lila, looked up. She looked exactly like she did when she had lived in Ishbal, except for the scar across her cheek. She got it when a bomb exploded right next to her.
Lila shrugged, and went back to staring at the ground.
That's all anyone really got out of her. She didn't talk often. She was found on the banks of a river, nearly dead. When she was well enough to move and talk, she had disappeared, only to come back a month later, looking scared and sick. Since then, she didn't talk unless she needed to. She rejected every boy that asked for her hand in marriage, saying each time she was waiting for someone. Her friends thought her crazy for turning down so many offers, but they still knew why.
"Lila, give up," one girl, called Jasmine said. "If that boy you were waiting for was alive, he'd be here by now, and you'd be with him. Either he's dead or forgot, you need to move on."
Lila stood up and turned her back to them, tears flowing down her cheeks. "No, no I won't give up on him. He'll come, he promised me. And he never breaks promises. Never." She ran off to the small house she had.
Unlike the other houses, which had at least six rooms, hers just had a kitchen, living room, bedroom, and bathroom.
Another one of her friends, Kathy, shook her head. "She should give up, boys don't often keep promises like this."
Pain suddenly brought him back to consciousness. Gritting his teeth, and gripping the blanket around him tightly to stop himself from yelling in pain, he opened his eyes.
He was in a small room, lying on a comfortable bed. Next to him was a bed stand that had medicine, bandages, and a bowl of water on it.
Light was pouring in from the open window, bringing in a nice breeze. He could hear people talking, and chatting happily. Where was he?"
With a huge amount of effort, he pushed himself into a sitting position, letting his soar body get used to it. This still didn't tell him where he was and how he got there, but it provided him with a view of outside.
'Ishbalians,' he thought. 'What village am I in?'
The door opened and an old man walked in. "Ah good, I see you are awake."
"Where am I," Scar demanded at once, watching as the old man walked over?
"In a Ishbalian town my young friend. You are safe here. You've been out for at least two weeks. Let me check your wounds." Not waiting for a reply, the old man checked the wounds, nodding after each one.
"Who are you," Scar asked, winching when the old man touched his shoulder.
"I am Tom, the best healer in the village. I see you flinch when I check you leg and shoulder wounds. They should be healed in a week or two. Who might you be?"
Scar decided he trusted this man. It's not everyday for find your people after thinking they were all dead. "My name is Scar," he replied.
"Ahhh, yes, yes, I've heard rumors of you. The state alchemist killer."
Scar nodded.
Tom nodded too. "Would you like to walk around outside? You can use the crutches." He indicated the items leaning against the wall.
Scar nodded. He would like to go outside. Maybe some of his friends did survive the massacre. But as he thought of his friends, he thought of Lila. She wouldn't be out there, she wasn't even alive, and neither was Kim. A wave of depression washed over him as he stood up with the support of the crutches.
Tom held open the door for him, and he hobbled out a little uneven on the crutches.
People looked at him as he limped past. He looked around, taking in the sights, the smells, and the sounds. It was just like home, except smaller.
He ignored the girls staring at him. He promised Lila his love right before she died, and he wouldn't go back on his promise, even if she were gone.
Scar headed towards a tree and sat down with his back to it. He was already tired after the effort of dragging himself around, and he hadn't seen half the town.
His eyes suddenly widened as he looked at his hand. His ring was gone! He groped for the locket, and with relief, found it, and to even more relief, found his ring on the repaired chain.
With that comfort, he looked over at the small town, giving a very small smile.