Third Chapter!

To be honest, I'm having a hell of a lot of fun with this fanfic. This chapter starts off the really good stuff, I think. I've noticed this has already earned quite a few hits, and I hope people are enjoying it so far. If anyone has feedback, it would be appreciated. But if you're going to outright flame, don't waste your time.

Enjoy!

Minor warning for those who are sqeamish - there's a fair bit of blood in this.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respectful owners (Square-Enix and Disney)


Waking was a difficult task after all that Isa went through to become unconscious. Yet, slowly but surely, he came to with a painful reminder of the recent catastrophe in the form of sharp pains. His face, his chest, and his back all throbbed and pounded relentlessly, refusing to have mercy on him when he whimpered and curled up as best as he could. In doing so, the man came to a horrifying realization: he was completely naked.

With much effort, he opened his eyes to try and see where he was. He was rewarded with nothing. Blackness. Isa's immediate assumption was that the slashes on his face had blinded him, and he brought his bare hands to his forehead for inspection. Gingerly, he brushed his shaking fingertips over the skin until the found two gashes. He then, careful with the fresh wound, traced them to see the damage. They ran diagonally down his face, starting at the top of his forehead, crossing paths over the bridge of his nose, and ending in separate points just under his eyes. They felt deep, but then again he would not be alive if they were severe. Thankfully, the eyes were undamaged, just sticky and hot with blood that was still escaping his body through the gashes.

In fact, the blood was the only thing warm about him at the moment. The rest of his body was cold, likely from blood loss and having nothing to cover his skin and trap in heat. The ground beneath him was chilly, yet smooth to the touch. A floor, perhaps? Keeping curled up to attempt staying warm, Isa then moved his hands down to his chest, feeling for any wounds. He had, after all, felt a horrible pain there. Yet, as he examined with his hands, he found nothing. Yet, it felt different. As if there was a physical emptiness in his chest. At first he doubted it was possible, but after all that had happened he was not ready to dismiss the unlikely.

After taking a moment to compose himself, Isa shifted delicately where he lay and put his hands on the ground. It took some effort, but he pushed himself up to his hands and knees, however feebly. Shivering, he blinked hard several times in attempts to see. Still, all he could see was blackness. The injured man was trembling, and not liking how vulnerable he felt. He managed to choke out a call for help, but his strained words earned no response. Not even an echo of his voice. Again, he shouted, feeling more desperate by the second. Just when his hope was slipping away, the distant sound of footsteps came to him. Even in this horror, his sharp ears heard enough to know there were two people walking, and they were coming closer.

"Help." He murmured again, this time his voice barely above a whisper. Soon, strong hands grabbed Isa by the shoulders and hauled him up. This was rather painful, but as he yelped and winced, he only had to endure more as his face stung sharply in protest to his pained expression. A blanket of sorts was put around him to cover him up, and the injured werewolf was half dragged along, to a place he had no way of guessing.

No words were spoken by the ones who had picked him up, but their grip on Isa made him feel both safe and concerned. With no way of seeing them, and all scents overpowered by that of blood, the young man could only allow himself to be towed to wherever they were going. If they held good intentions, he was lucky. If not, he was utterly helpless to defend himself. His body was battered, and his spirit was quite worn down at the moment.

Much to his shock and relief, Isa was able to see when light exploded in front of him, a large doorway through which he was taken. Still, his vision was hindered by the blood in his eyes. He made an attempt to ask where he was, but his weak question was not given a response. His two soundless saviours simply kept walking with him between them. Isa had to close his eyes once they walked through the passageway, as the light was overwhelming to his eyes. Without a word, the two deposited him on a cold metal surface, likely a table. He lay on his back with little strength to keep him sitting, and listened as the sound of heavy footfalls moved away from him. He was being abandoned.

"No, wait." Isa blurted out, trying to roll over to push himself up. His fingers gripped the edge of the table and he forced his eyes open. Just barely, he saw two large, dark figures continuing to walk away. "Don't just leave me!" he growled, and could have sworn he heard one of them laugh. It held a sort of familiarity that shook the poor man to the core. Having to close his eyes again, Isa slumped down again and gritted his teeth. He did not like this one bit.

It seemed like forever that he was left there, cold and only with a sheet of fabric to hide his battered body. Everything was dead quiet, which was even more unnerving. Several efforts were made to see where he was during this time. All that lay between the blurred edges of his vision were white walls and floors, what looked like counters and cabinets, and a large brown beclouded rectangle against one wall. It could have been a bookshelf, or even a big door. Setting his head back down on the metal, Isa forced himself to bite back a whimper. It would be a lie to say he was not scared. It was a type of scare he was not familiar with. This was sheer terror and helplessness, and deep down, restrained bursts of rage kept whatever hope he had left, as forced and artificial as it was.

Finally, he heard someone approaching, and lifted his head again. His eyes only made out another black smudge in his vision, but it was coming closer.

"Who are you?" Isa muttered quietly, but once again received no words in response. Hands pushed him onto his back carefully, and only pushed harder when he squirmed in protest. Once he gave up, they left for several seconds, in which running water could be heard. Soon the injured man felt sudden cold on his face, and brought his hands up to cover it. An irked sigh was heard before his hands were pulled away forcefully but carefully.

"Hold still." The voice was male, and carried and air of annoyance. Again, the cold touched his face, and Isa soon realised that it was a wet cloth wiping the blood away. He complied, not wanting to upset the stranger further. He needed help, and it seemed he was getting it. It took a while, but soon Isa's face and around his eyes were mostly cleaned up. Opening his eyes again, the werewolf looked up at the one who seemed to be helping him.

At first all he saw was dark clothing and a mass of long blonde hair, but as his vision slowly cleared, more features became apparent. The stranger had a narrow, pointed face, and almond-shaped green eyes. His expression was one of concentration as he carefully wiped the last of the blood off the man's forehead. He seemed to be mindful to not touch the gashes. When Isa furrowed his brow in confusion, he was given a harsh reminder of his condition with a horrid sting. The blonde sighed again and waited for him to recover from the pain.

"The wounds will never heal if you don't stop that." Then he turned away and faced one of the counters nearby. Isa was quiet, still too confused to really process all that was happening to him. His eyes travelled upwards, where a large fluorescent light hovered overhead. Luckily for his already abused vision, it was not turned on. The fact that this man implied he should withhold expression seemed frustrating. Then again, the reality was that he was not able to move his eyebrows without a horrid pain. Soon the one clad in black returned, a small and thin silver object between his fingers.

"What are you doing?" Isa hissed softly, beginning to panic as the object was brought closer. It soon became obvious that the other was holding a needle, and intending to stitch the wound. "Are you a doctor?"

"Hold still." The stranger repeated, voice gaining a stronger air of seriousness. "I mean it."

One hand was firmly placed on the side of Isa's head to hold him still, while the other brought the needle to the top of one of the gashes. The second the point punctured the tender skin, the young man yelped and tried to turn his head. The 'doctor' hissed under his breath and took a stronger hold to steady him. A second attempt ended in Isa attempting to strike out at the one with the dreaded instrument. All he succeeded in was thrusting his knuckles into the other's ribs. Straightening up with a grunt and stepping back, the blonde sneered at the stubborn man.

"I will call someone in to hold you down." He threatened, ignoring Isa's warning growls. "I am trying to help you, but I could just as easily let you take several months to heal without stitches. Stop being a damned fool."

The two stared at each other for an extended amount of time, in some sense sizing each other up despite Isa's injured state. Luckily for the doctor, Isa's pride was too hurt to allow himself to wind up restrained, and he lay back down. This time, a little more progress was made in the stitching. It was extremely painful, and the injured man could not help but yelp or jerk his head now and then if the needle struck an especially painful spot. The pulling of thread through his skin was nearly unbearable, even for his pain threshold. Eventually tiring of the hassle, the doctor straightened up again.

"Fine, I'll numb the wound." He huffed. Isa narrowed his eyes, unable to fully glare at the strange man.

"You could have done that sooner." He remarked, his annoyance slowly turning into boldness. The blonde rolled his eyes and put a finger to the start of one of the gashes. Much to Isa's amazement and horror, he felt an intense cold radiating from the gloved fingertip, but the soon touched skin lost all feeling. He traced both wounds, numbing the nerves with cold. When it was done, the injured one could only stare up with wide eyes. "How did you-"

"Quiet." With that, the stitching resumed with much less trouble than before. It was still unnerving, even if the pain was almost completely gone. The patient had to close his eyes before long; watching the needle work so close to his face undoubtedly tested his nerves. This all seemed to get only more surreal, but the constant stings and throbs of injuries always reminded Isa that he was not dreaming. He could only lay still and allow the doctor to finish his work. By the time he finished the last stitch, feeling was beginning to return to the patient's face.

When it was all over, the stranger wiped away the tiny stray rivers of blood that had oozed from the wound during the procedure. He then moved to the counter again and peeled off his white gloves. With much effort, Isa sat up on the table, and instinctively brought a hand to his face.

"Don't touch it." The other said blandly, knowing what he was about to do without even looking. Bringing his hand back down, Isa watched the blonde wash his hands and the cloth that was used to clean the blood. His black clothing was a full robe that almost reached his ankles, complete with a hood and long sleeves that were up until recently rolled up and out of the way. Again, it struck Isa with some sense of familiarity, but it was hard to place. When contemplating the other's clothing, he remembered that the only thing between his body and the open world was one sheet of fabric, which (barely) covered what was meant to be hidden. Vulnerability was something he despised, but could not avoid right now. Looking to the back of the one who had fixed his injury, Isa summoned up courage to ask one of the many burning questions that would not quiet in his mind.

"Where am I?" he asked, surprising himself with a more assertive tone.

"You are where you belong." The other said with a tint of finality in his voice. Before Isa could ask him to elaborate, he spoke up again. "If you can walk, there is clothing on the other table for you to put on."

Indeed, there was. With a bit of a limp and a struggle, Isa slid down from the table and moved towards the pile of fabric nearby. As he did, he went to great lengths to over himself as much as possible with the small blanket. It seemed some of his strength was returning, although he felt lightheaded and sore, still. He picked up the first piece he could grab, which turned out to be a long black robe identical to the one the doctor was wearing. There were also black pants, boots, and gloves. He turned his head to look at the other, who still had his back to him.

"I'm not wearing this." He growled, feeling rather sour about the notion of wearing the clothing that unsettled him so very greatly. An amused and pitiless laugh was what he earned.

"Unless you would rather meet the Superior wearing half a towel, I suggest you put the clothing on."

"The who?" Isa growled, not liking the tone being given to him. "I'm getting sick of this, you know. Not one person has answered my questions, and I don't like being left in the dark." Still the blonde did not look at him.

"The answers will be given soon. Now quit being stubborn and get dressed. The Superior is waiting."

An attempt was given to ask again just who this "Superior" person was, but Isa soon found that he was being ignored. With an acidic growl, he put the clothing and boots on, already resenting every thread of it and the doctor who had such a cold and calloused attitude. When straightening the hood, Isa caught a glimpse of a shocking detail that had been lost to him through all of this; his hair was now a shade of pastel blue. When he exclaimed his surprise, the blonde finally turned to him. He seemed amused by Isa's horror.

"That is one of the things that happen during the separation. Don't fret over it; it's just a change in pigmentation. I have yet to figure out what causes it." The doctor seemed very calm, and even smiled. It was, however, more of a smirk than anything. "I used to be more of a brunette, myself."

"What happened to me?" Isa finally demanded while raising his voice. "What is all of this? What happened to my home?" he was letting the anger take over, and as he took a step closer to the other man, he growled. It was a vicious one, and for a moment it sparked a surprised expression from the other. "Enough with this, I want to go back."

The shock faded, and another laugh came from the doctor, and he shook his head. "That's not an option, I'm afraid. You are lucky to be here." He then grew more serious with frightening quickness. "Now take that savagery of yours and contain it. No more questions, for I already assured you that they will be answered."

Immediately after, a large dark circle burst into view near both of them, and seemed to swirl about in strands of black and purple smoke. It touched the floor, and towered over them at a height of at least seven feet. The blonde seemed unconcerned with it, but Isa of course backed away nervously. Out of the dark void walked another man. He was significantly shorter than both of them, and his dusty blue coloured hair was combed expertly over one side of his face. Every little bit about him was suspicious looking. The newcomer wore identical clothing to what they were wearing. He cast a look at Isa, then to the blonde.

"Is he ready? The Superior is growing impatient." The shorter man's voice was monotone, but held seriousness. The other nodded.

"Take him through." Sharp green eyes then moved to Isa. "Mind your temper from now on." Was all he offered in parting before turning back to his work at the counter. The dark-haired one looked to Isa expectantly while backing up and returning to the darkness from which he came. With nothing to call another option, Isa sighed and followed, stepping tentatively through after him. Going back was not up for suggestion, that much was obvious. All the battered and frustrated man could do was follow this stranger into the void, and face the person that was apparently so intent on meeting him.