Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist and make no gain from this.

Yay! Thank you for the reviews.

Yeah, I know it's probably not a big surprise and you all figured it out anyway, but damn!

It's hard trying to subtly introduce a seven-foot tall, fur covered, creepy chimera. :P

Please note: I rattled this out in a hurry so I apologise for any errors.

Chapter two.

Chapter 2 – Waking

Consciousness returned much too slowly for Scar's liking.

He didn't know if it was an after effect of the dart or whether his captor had given him something else upon bringing him to wherever he had planned to take him, but neither his mind or his body would cooperate properly. His head felt foggy – like he was seeing everything through a thick haze – his thoughts just out of reach. The strange heaviness in his limbs from before was still there – a feeling, which he noted even with the manacles binding his wrists behind his back.

Moving slowly, Scar levered himself into a more upright position, leaning his shoulder against the wall so he wouldn't immediately slide back to the floor.

Gazing round with clouded eyes - the first thing he noticed – strangely enough - was how cold it was. Being born and raised in the desert Scar was not accustomed to cold. Even in Central the first thing the Ishbalan truly hated about the city was how cold it was when night came and vowed never to remain during the winter months regardless of his mission.

But this place was cold…..and damp – he could smell moss and mildew and it made him shiver involuntarily. Reaching down to pull his jacket tighter around himself he startled when his hands came into contact – not with the stiff material of his jacket – but with a rougher, much thinner fabric.

Frowning, he glanced down to see exactly what he was wearing and could not contain his gasp of surprise.

Gone were his clothes and in their place he wore a pair of loose fitting grey pants with a matching tunic. Both articles appeared to be made of the same material and - despite being at least two sizes too big – were nowhere near thick enough to keep him warm in a place this cold.

Sighing in frustration, another realisation suddenly drifted to him through the fog.

His wounds no longer hurt as much and a quick check under the edge of his 'new' shirt confirmed his suspicions – a thick, white gauze was wrapped tightly around his lower torso, effectively sealing the bullet wound. Scar cast a glance at his thigh and had a sinking feeling that – if he were to look – he would find a similar bandage.

Taking a deep breath to try and calm his racing heart, the Ishbalan once again attempted to focus on his surroundings.

He appeared to be in some kind of small cell…really small. In fact, if he were to lay down and stretched out to his full length, the top of his head and the soles of his feet would probably touch the walls. A tiny sliver of an opening at the very top of the wall he leaned against offered the only source of light but, even if he could stand up, he was too weak to investigate it - so he just allowed himself to rest easy, knowing that at least he could see it was daylight outside. Night had apparently been and gone, giving him at least some idea of how long he had been unconscious.

Sliding his gaze across to the opposite wall – Scar felt his breath catch in his chest.

As he feared, a row of heavy iron bars lined the outer wall of the cell – leading into a darkened room beyond where he could just about make out the outline of a door against the wall outside.

Stretching his arms carefully behind him – Scar tested the metal bonds around his wrists but both the cuffs and the chain connecting them remained solid – unyielding. Closing his eyes tightly he tried to focus on shattering the chain using the power concealed within his right arm and…

….nothing happened.

Clenching his fists, he growled in frustration.

The drug in his system was clouding his concentration and he couldn't focus on the chain long enough to destroy it.

Breathing heavily from exertion – Scar no longer had the strength to remain upright so allowed his aching body to slide sideways, back onto the floor.

All this concentration was taking his energy and he was starting to feel dizzy again – an uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach.

Closing his eyes, he tried to block out the swelling nausea. When that didn't work – he found himself curling into a protective ball without even realising. He knew that if he were stronger and more aware, he would have been disgusted by his behaviour right now. Showing blatant weakness instead of appearing strong while at the mercy of an enemy.

Still, the position did little to ease the sick feeling in his stomach and he found himself actually wishing for unconsciousness to return.

Head resting lightly against the cool stone floor, Scar was almost out cold when the door of the room outside opened.

The sudden grating sound of heavy metal against stone caused the dozing Ishbalan to nearly jump out of his skin. Fully awake now, Scar raised his head – ignoring the dizziness it brought – and squinted against the light held by the visitor when it fell upon him.

'Ahh, so you are awake? I was beginning to wonder if it was a reaction to the sedative I gave you….'

Even in his dazed and confused state, Scar had no trouble recognising the whispered voice and scooted back against the wall as much as his aching body would allow.

Setting the lamp down on the floor, the visitor walked slowly over to the bars.

'Please calm down. It is not my intention to hurt you but if you refuse to cooperate I may have no choice.' – it said as it curled a hand around one of the bars and gazed calmly down at the trembling man inside.

Wait…trembling? Sure enough –whether it was from the bitter cold or the effect of this creature being in the same room as him – a fine tremor made its way down his body and did not stop.

Gritting his teeth against another wave of dizziness, Scar glared at the being through the bars.

'You're…Shou Tucker….the Sewing…..Life Alchemist.'

His throat felt dry and sore and what came out was nothing more than a raspy whisper. But the thing behind the bars smiled slowly – proving that he had heard it.

'Yeeees. Although, I am curious, you don't seem that surprised by my appearance?'

Startled? Maybe.

But surprised?

No. Scar knew exactly who this was.

After he had killed that poor creature in the alley he had overheard the guards talking about the Sewing Life Alchemist and how he was destined for execution for using his own family to create talking chimeras. He had even seen the man being lead away from Central HQ in chains en-route to his execution.

This monster didn't deserve something as civilised as an execution and Scar had been torn over whether to follow the transport just so he could deliver justice to the man himself. In the end he had decided to stay away and let the military handle it. A decision he now regretted deeply.

As for Tucker's appearance….. A man who was willing to use his own family as test subjects obviously would not be put off by the thought of using is own body for the sake of progress.

Propping himself against the wall Scar bared his teeth in a snarl – breathing hard through clenched teeth.

'Hn….for…an abomination like you…no…I'm not surprised.'

To Scar's dismay – Tucker's smile only widened and he opened the door to the Ishbalan's cell and stepped inside.

As the chimera entered his cell any anger he felt through his haze filled mind abruptly fled. It was one thing to glare at the former State Alchemist through bars but it was an entirely different matter when the monster – who defiled his very beliefs – came within reaching distance.

The drug still heavy in his system – his thoughts were sluggish and his movements uncoordinated but Scar still managed to scramble back, pressing himself as tightly against the wall as he could – crimson eyes going wide with fright as the huge chimera advanced on him.

Staring down mildly at the shaking human, Tucker crouched down a few feet away before lashing out – hand wrapping tightly around an ankle - he tugged it harshly, pulling the struggling man towards him easily.

When the former State Alchemist's hand latched onto his ankle, Scar couldn't stop the cry of shock and fear and thrashed wildly, trying to escape the hold. His head must be getting foggier because he hadn't seen Tucker's hand move until it was on him.

'…LET GO…OF…ME!' – Gasping, Scar kicked out viciously but in his weakened state he was no match for the much larger creature and Tucker continued to tug him forward until he was satisfied Scar was close enough to work with - in reach of the lamp light.

The wave of relief when the hand left his leg was short lived as Scar found himself being flipped roughly onto his front with another hand placed between his shoulder blades and a large knee pressed on the small of his back – affectively pinning him to the floor.

Panic set in.

His thrashing intensified and he lashed out with everything he had in an attempt to throw the alchemist off. Blood was pounding in his ears and his breathing came in shallow gasps.

It was all too much.

For a horrifying moment his vision greyed around the edges and his struggles slowed.

All the while Tucker calmly waited for him to tire – holding onto him with relative ease and a sad smile on his face.

'I told you it is not my intention to hurt you…..In fact, my only wish is to make you better.'

Scar just listened, his eyes already half-closed and unfocused – both his mind and his body having gone beyond the point of exhaustion. Still, Tucker's statement about making him 'better' caused a surge of terror in the Ishbalan's muddled mind and he knew he should be doing everything in his power to try and escape before he found out what the deranged alchemist had planned.

But he was just so tired.

Sensing that the struggle was over, Tucker leaned back slightly to stare at the weary Ishbalan with something akin to wonder in his eyes. Moving the hand from Scar's back, Tucker reached up to stroke his fingers lightly through the mans' white hair in a gesture that once soothed his dear Nina.

To him, the Ishbalans truly were an amazing race – one he had longed to be allowed to use in his research. But alas, the higher-ups in the military had deemed such an idea inhumane.

Shame.

Reaching into a small bag, concealed at his waist Tucker pulled out a syringe filled with a pale pink liquid and removed the cap with his teeth – his other hand never stopping in its' slow movement through the Ishbalan's hair.

Scar barley flinched when the needle slid into his neck. The cold liquid filled his veins and his harsh breathing slowed to a gentler, more even rhythm – the slivers of crimson disappearing altogether behind closed lids.

'Don't worry my friend. When you awaken everything will be better…even you.'

TBC…..

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