Jak 3: The Sands of Time

Genre: Adventure, General

Rated: T for language and violence

Characters: Jak and Dax of course

Prologue

I've heard legends of that person.
How he plunged into enemy territory.
How he saved his homeland.

I've heard legends of that person
of how he traveled the breadth of the land,
reducing all he touched to rubble.

I've heard legends of that person
I've heard legends of that person.

Revered by many - I too revere him.
Feared by many - I too fear him.

Now that person
stands at my side.

Dark blue boots paused mid-step. Turning around to stare at the sleeping ottsel he had befriended many years ago Jak sighed; he had too many burdens for a mere seventeen years, Daxter wasn't going to be dragged into them as well.

Slowly and tentatively the youth crouched to pick up his goggles that had fallen to the ground sometime in the night. He closed his fingers around the worn leather and brought them to his head. He fastened them determinedly, but was betrayed by trembling fingers.

He shook his head, the motion hasty. He had already wasted enough time, as transparent light from early morning began to seep through the dingy curtains. He would have to leave quickly, before Daxter was lucid enough to follow. Jak felt something- shame, cowardice, guilt? -as he looked towards his best friend for what he knew would be the last time.

"Maybe in another life," he whispered softly; a catchphrase the two had come up with during their brief but happy time in Sandover Village. "Take care of yourself Dax."

He looked towards the ground, eyes downcast - full of torment, full of pain. More emotion than anyone besides Daxter had ever seen, had ever tried to see. For a moment they were black, black as the night, before shifting back to their usual blue hue.

It wasn't much but he left the ottsel a blue eco infused stone, the only reminder the two had of home. With shaking fingers the youth placed it next to the orange sleeping form, and turned away. He moved without a sound, ducking low beneath the slanted door frame and gliding into the city where his entire life had been shattered, twisted and warped until he became nothing, just an unrecognizable shadow of the hero whom he once was. Gods, when was this nightmare going to be over? As the dark, smoggy clouds opened up and it began to thunder Jak knew the answer.

It wouldn't.

Slowly, Daxter awoke with the sound of soft, scattered raindrops echoing in his ears; incoherently the ottsel cursed. Gods, he hated the rain - at least in Haven City. It was more smog than anything as it mingled with Haven's toxic air, and it stank like pollution. Just like the rest of the Mar damn city.

Stupid crappy rain. Stupid crappy city. Stupid crappy bed. Stupid crappy crap.

The ottsel's eyes were barely open as he curled his tail around his slim body, attempting to obtain some body heat, if any. "Jeez Jak, you sick or something?" he asked sluggishly. It wasn't very often that Daxter had to suffer bitter temperatures, so long as he had Jak, and his fantastic ability to generate enough warmth for the two of them.

"Seriously Jak, it's freezin' tits over here," the ottsel spoke, louder than before.

There was still no response.

"Aye, Jak are ya even listenin' to me?" Even though he was only half asleep, Daxter hated being ignored. Crinkling his nose, he moved to poke his best friend in the stomach, hard enough to wake him should he be sleeping. He missed, jabbing himself instead.

"Jaaaaaak! C'mon!" he shouted, irritated. He continued poking downward - nope that was his leg, and Jak definitely didn't have a tail last night. Suddenly the ottsel gave a jolt as his finger collided with hard cemented wood, softened only by a shabby blanket that he realized wasn't his best friend.

"J-Jak?"

No no no no no...

Attempting to untangle himself from the thin throw and swallowing the cold feeling settling in the core of his chest, Daxter began to curse. "Oh Mar..."

Small, dark blue orbs were instantly alert as he looked around frantically, searching for any sign of other life. "Jak?"

He found none, and the realization that he was alone began to suffocate the small ottsel. "No no no no no..." his words were spoken hoarsely, in disbelief, in despair and in bitter defeat.

"Why Jak?" His voice cracked; this could not be happening.

Any signs that someone else resided with the ottsel were gone. The morph gun, armor, boots, goggles- everything -that had littered the floor that previous night were missing. There wasn't any indication that they had even been there to begin with. Gone, just like the young renegade, Daxter numbly realized.

But if one really looked close enough, they might have seen the footsteps that indented the cool, earth floor. The rather large footsteps, which led outside and into the scattered falling rain. Familiar footsteps. Jak's footsteps.

Jak- Jak was gone. He had picked up, taken everything, and left.

"Mar damn it Jak, why?"

Anger begin to bleed it's way into the ottsel's system. Helplessly he clutched at the tattered blanket, trying to steady himself before he lost it completely. But instead of coarse fabric, his paws gripped something smooth, and dense. Picking up the blue stone with a quivering hand, he slowly ran his fingers across its surface, feeling every crack, each crevice. The blue eco contained inside sparked mildly with his touch and his lips moved soundlessly as he tried to cope with the horrible revelation that was burrowing itself deeper and deeper in his stomach.

Jak left him. And he was going to die in that Mar forsaken desert, alone.

"Damn it!" With a snarl the ottsel flung the rock towards the nearest, crumbling wall. The stone made a distinct plink! noise, ricocheting off of the rotting wood and landing onto the floor. "You idiot!" Daxter burst out, clenching his fists so hard they began to shake. "You jack ass! Are you fucking retarded?" He whipped the blanket off of the rickety bed, and practically collapsed, burying his head into his paws. "Why the hell would you do something like this? You...you...UGH!"

Standing on unsteady legs Daxter took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his orange fur. Each coarse strand stuck up straight, reaching towards the ceiling.

This couldn't be happening. This wasn't happening. He and Jak were the Dynamic Duo, they were inseparable. No one and no gun could ever tear them apart; the idea of separation was unthinkable. Unbelievable. It couldn't be real.

But it was.

Daxter heart rate began to quicken as he started to breathe harder. The cold air stung his small lungs. Clutching at his sides, the ottsel forced himself to take a series of short breaths before he passed out.

"NO, NO, NO!"

Oh Precursors, it wasn't supposed to end like this! The old adventure tales about heroes and their sidekicks that Daxter had heard as a youth had never ended like this! The two were never supposed to be separated, never alone. Those duos stuck together through thick and thin, despite the treacherous danger that lurked around every corner. Even when there was a chance they wouldn't make it they never deserted each other. They were inseparable.

Yet in this world, it seemed like the ottsel found a lot of stories didn't have happy endings as they should.

But why couldn't they? Hadn't they been through enough? What more did the gods want from him, from Jak, from them? It wasn't fair, and if Daxter ever met his makers he was going to demand a Mar damn refund, dammit.

Oh for the love of the gods, what was he supposed to do? Hands now freed from his knotted fur, Daxter paced the bed's small frame. Gradually his heartbeat slowed and he stopped his pacing, long enough to take a deep, steadying breath.

"Awww shit," he murmured at last. "Who'da thunk I'd be the one to have the save the day?" He clambered down to the ground, landing nimbly. Had the ottsel still been human, his landing may not have been as graceful.

Daxter's decision to save Jak had been quick, reckless, and in the spur of the moment. But he could have had all the time in the world- which he didn't; Jak could be departing any minute now –and he would have reached the same conclusion.

He couldn't abandon his friend. Never. So he would go after the youth and follow him into whatever fate had in store for them. Just like it should be.

The ottsel darted outside into the rain on all fours, but not before grabbing the eco infused stone and stuffing it into the top of his goggles for safekeeping. He would use it as a projectile to throw at Jak for being such a simple minded idiot when he found him.

When. Not if. He was going to find Jak, even if it killed him.

Which it probably would.

Every step Jak took brought him farther from familiarity and closer to his absolute death. Of this he was certain - he was going to die, and without Daxter by his side. It was worse than a bullet through his chest, and the renegade tried to push all thoughts of his friend away.

The polluted rain made it impossible. He and Dax had always liked rain; back in Sandover they would follow tidings of the weather almost religiously. For days they would wait anxiously for a storm to roll in. They had nothing better to do.

Jak remembered how it was both scary and exhilarating: to stand in the midst of a thunderstorm atop one of the village's highest hills with only Dax by his side. He wished he could to return to that time of his life. Back to where the weight of the world wasn't on his shoulders and ready to bury him alive.

That was why he had left his friend - to save the ottsel from his own miserable fate. Mar, he couldn't let Dax get killed. It just wasn't right. It wasn't fair, as was a lot of things.

For days Jak had inwardly begged the Precursors to spare the ottsel; he hadn't prayed since prison. But all he was met with was silence, and the confirmation that his faith was misplaced. He'd never felt so empty. So he ran, unable to find the words that would make Daxter understand.

His intentions were to save him. Honestly.

So why did he feel so guilty?

Jak dimly realized that he had made his way from the Slums and into the main sector of Haven City. It was virtually empty - no one dared to step outside before the sun rose fully into the hazy sky. Bitterly he noted that maybe the streets would be filled once more when he was gone. No one dared to stand three feet near the renegade, not after they had heard the truth.

The only noise was Jak's steady footsteps; never did he pause.

But then the addiction and craving began to take over as the dark eco in his bloodstream started to engulf everything, threatening to bring Jak down with it if he didn't comply. The edges of his vision began to darken.

No - not here. Not now.

The dark eco continued to fight against Jak's determined will, but it was a losing battle that he was up against and deep down he knew it. He hated it. And even deeper down he was ashamed of it. If only he had been faster, or a little bit stronger. If only he wasn't so Mar damn weak. Maybe then his life wouldn't have spiraled down into the current nightmarish hell that he couldn't wake up from.

No matter how many times or how hard he fell.

Because it seemed as though the gruesome experiments he endured from the Baron would never leave him, no matter how much he wanted them too. Not physically - the deep, crisscrossed scars remained where they would always sit splayed across his chest and neck. Just like any other old battle wound, except each one was a reminder of those two, terrifying years where he had completely lost himself.

And prison wouldn't leave him mentally either because Mar dammit - he couldn't even sleep without the faces of Praxis and Errol looming over him as the dark eco lashed against his body again, and again, while all he could do was scream for them to stop, please just make it stop-

The sound of Jak's heavy footsteps never faltered, even though his faith was long gone.

Hissing in anger Daxter skidded to a halt outside of the slums, trying to locate Jak's footsteps. The rain which had seemed harmless in the close proximity of buildings that was the Slums, now fell to the ground quickly and with force, washing away everything.

"Dammit!"

Letting out an exasperated breath Daxter thought frantically as to what he remembered from the hearing. All that seemed to register was the pained, hard expression on Jak's face and the fact that it just wasn't fair. Then Count Veger's face seemed to smirk inside the ottsel's head and his haughty mouth began to speak in that miserable, nasally voice:

"You, Jak Mar, are hereby banished to the Wasteland. Be at the port tomorrow morning by six. Resistance is futile."

The port! Of course, the port! But how in the hell was the ottsel supposed to make it to the port on his own? Oh Precursors, what was he supposed to do? But then an idea- as unappealing as it was -appeared in Daxter's head and he knew he was going to find Jak.

Pecker!

Turning back in the direction he had come Daxter quickly scampered east on all fours towards the Bazaar. If anyone could help him now it was the annoying monkey-macaw hybrid, even if the egotistical ottsel didn't want to admit it. But he would gladly do anything if it meant being with Jak again.

"Where's Daxter?" She asked quietly, for fear of being heard by the wrong ears and he didn't reply. Absentmindedly she brushed a strand of rain soaked hair behind her ear, and tried again. "Jak?"

He looked down at his feet, fists clenched as hard as he could - they shook as he attempted to speak. The words didn't come, yet Keira seemed to understand the silence. Green eyes void of any emotion but compassion for her childhood friend, she laid a small, calloused hand against his arm. "He'll be alright Jak," she murmured. He glanced upward, a blank and bleak expression on his face. Both knew it was a lie, and Jak finally found the will to speak.

"He's going to hate me." Words spoken by a broken man - not a man who single-handedly saved the city. Not the man who defeated the Metal Head leader. Not a hero. He turned his eyes back to the ground, fighting the urge to run; all he ever did was run.

Once again it was quiet. Even when Jak was mute they had never had to face a silence like this.

Then boldly and without hesitation, Keira's hands moved upward to grip Jak's chin, pulling his face towards hers. Startled, Jak let out a small grunt, resisting the voice in his head that hissed at the forced touch. He had to remind himself that it was Keira, and that she wasn't going to hurt him. Common sense grappled with instinct. For a moment Jak almost gave into the sinister thoughts, but Keira began to speak and he was reminded of who he was.

"Jak, look at me."

Willingly he complied, too exhausted to do anything indifferent.

Once his tired eyes focused on hers, Keira's voice increased in volume, a dark expression stealing over her face. "Don't you ever think that he'll hate you, Jak. Daxter is your best friend, he could never hate you." Suddenly her voice softened and a faint blush spread across her face. Her brief fit of courage had drained away completely, as she realized how close their faces were, noses almost touching. Green eyes slid to the ground. "He cares about you Jak. And so- so do I."

The closest words she could find to I love you.

Something strong began to build up in Jak's stomach and he found himself pushing Keira gently but with purpose against the small arch of the collapsing dwelling. She gave a startled cry from the sudden contact, but it was cut off swiftly as Jak pushed his lips against hers. Within moments Keira returned Jak's intensity with a fervor of her own, the shock from his assertiveness melting away as the kiss deepened.

He wasn't good with words, action was all he knew. Jak gently parted Keira's lips with his own because there was no other way for him to show her how much he really cared.

They were three words. All he needed. But they wouldn't come and for that he hated himself.

Because this was it.

Jak ran his lips along Keira's cheek, using his hand to brush lightly against her hips, her neck, her hair. This was it. There was no do over, no second chance. He had but a few stolen moments with the mechanic before he was to be taken to his death. As he moved his mouth against hers with more force he realized just how much he had screwed up. They should have had months, years, decades to be together - not minutes. Not a final goodbye behind a rotting, crumbling building under a smog infested sky.

Because how many times had they done this?

For the love of Mar - how many times had he done this? Tried to forget about his troubles, if only for a minute within Keira's touch? How many times had he kissed her without meaning, held her in secret because he was too afraid to admit how he felt about her?

Precursors, he had screwed up. Feelings began to well up in his chest, and that heavy, numbness began to settle in the pit of his stomach. The youth found himself taking Keira by the waist again, kissing her roughly, too roughly. He listened to the mechanic's sharp intake of breath as he pushed her back against the wall once more. Jak tried to pull away- not now, please not now -but the voice only laughed.

It was hungry.

"NO!"

With a snarl he tore himself away from Keira, as far as the small space would allow, panting heavily. Pain; it exploded over his abdomen and Jak bent over, trying to regain some sense of humanity, trying to remind himself why he couldn't do that. If he did - Precursors he didn't even want to think about what could have happened.

"Ja-ak?"

He glanced up and grimaced at what he saw - trembling, Keira held her hand tightly against her chest in fear. She was so fragile, and she didn't even realize it.

It was silent once more, save for the rain and occasionally a gasp of air as neither could seem to catch their breath.

Finally, the sharp pressure subdued from his temples, and the dark, cold feeling that had taken over melted away, leaving him shivering. Wincing at the way his voice cracked and rumbled, Jak murmured, "M'sorry." He struggled to stand, to leave so he couldn't hurt her anymore.

For a heartbeat it was silent again. Then Keira spoke, her voice an octave higher than normal. "It's okay. Don't worry about it."

He didn't reply.

Slowly, tentatively with her arm still pressed up to her chest, Keira moved wordlessly towards Jak. He had managed to stand, leaning heavily on the other wall for support. At the sound of her footsteps he turned to look at her, conflicted. For a moment his lips moved soundlessly, before he found the words he needed to say."Not just for that. For everything," he whispered at last, closing his eyes. He moved to leave, and she panicked.

"Jak please just- don't be!"

Stumbling forward to meet him, Keira bit back a choked sob and wrapped her arms around him, ignoring how he jumped again at the touch. Everything - absolutely everything was falling apart; why had they stepped onto that damned rift gate? She held back another as he turned to move away - he couldn't leave. She clutched him tighter; she couldn't lose him, not now, not again.

"Keir," Jak murmured, running his fingers through her hair for the final time. The strands were soft, and smelled of home.

Burying herself in his chest, Keira struggled to speak. "Please," she begged, out of breath and unable to form the words she needed to say. "Come back to me."

Tenderly, with far more caution than anyone could ever imagine he was capable of, Jak silently took Keira's face in his hands. Slowly he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. It was quiet for a moment; the only sound was their mingling breaths and the ever falling rain. "I'll try," he breathed, caressing her eyelids with quivering fingers. "I'll try."

It was the only answer he had. Reluctantly he pulled away, trying to forget the smell of her, the taste of her.

He was running out of time.

He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, and that it was the thought of her smiling that kept him alive in prison. He wanted to tell her - not forcibly show her -that he was in love with her. That he always had been.

But he didn't. All he managed was a soft, desolate "Bye Keir,"as he pressed his lips once more to hers for the last time.

The tears that had been welling in her eyes at this point fell, and Keira blinked hastily. His back was turned to her as he staggered past the fallen debris. "Jak. I-" Desperately she tried to force the words out, because it was her last chance to say them but they wouldn't come.

All the while Jak paused, glancing behind his shoulder at her and shifting from foot to foot as his eyes swirled from cerulean to black and back again. "Just- just be careful," she whispered at last, meeting his ever changing gaze once more.

"Always," he murmured, pressed his fingers to his lips and pointed towards her. Then he was gone.

Sinking down to the ground on unsteady legs, Keira wrapped her arms around her aching chest, trying to remember the point in her life where everything had been simple. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the soft waves hitting the shore, the only sound of industry the village windmill as it continued to twirl in the ocean breeze.

And for a second, she could almost breathe.

The old soothsayer smiled softly to herself as the young ottsel and her orator quickly sped out of her tent, the latter more reluctant than the first.

"If ya don't hurry yer feathery ass now I'm gonna make ya hurry!" Daxter threatened, the unusual seriousness of his voice showing no misgivings that he planned on carrying out the forewarning. Onin grin widened. His loyalty to Jak- although often shadowed by what some might call cowardice -was deeper and truer than any friendship Onin had seen in her many years.

"RAWWWK! How dare you threaten me with such nonsense? ¡Bésame el culo, inútil tonto!"

"Hey! Just cause I don't speak yer stupid language bent beak-"

Soon their brawling voices faded the prophet's old ears, but the joy in her heart never vanished. The Precursors had told her Jak would be saved. Another voice had whispered that he would be saved in more way than one.

Gritting his teeth Jak stepped carefully into the transport, feeling off balanced and exhausted.

"Next stop, the Wasteland," Count Veger announced smugly.

Jak had no retort. The guns pointed at his back made sure of that.

Sitting uncomfortably between two guards, Jak bitterly tried to keep from meeting Ashelin's apologetic gaze. Instead he kept his eyes focused on his tightly bound hands, and was almost comforted by the fact that this would soon be over. He didn't notice the blur of orange that snaked it's way into the vehicle just as the door began to shut with a clank!

He was out of time.

The transport slowly began to take off and the hope drained from him completely.

Okay, so after much deliberation (and a little (a lot) of common sense from my amazing beta, Fishyicon) I am plowing ahead with writing regardless of these previous chapters. So be prepared for much more consistent updates as I finally get this show on the road.

Comments? Concerns? Questions? Review. I'd love to know what parts of Jak 3 you'd like to see, what parts you'd rather didn't happen at all (like a certain kiss maybe?)

Jak and Daxter unfortunately do not belong to me, but I like to pretend they do. So humor me.

Enjoy.

~LeiaOrganicSolo