A/N: I'm only going to give this disclaimer once, so here it is: I own nothing. Absolutely nothing. The characters, the (original) plot, the setting, the cover image, nothing. All of it belongs to its respectful owners. Nothing at all is owned by me. Especially Vaas. Also, read at your own risk. I plan on this story getting pretty dark and there may be triggers. I mean, it is Far Cry 3, a game themed around killing, torture, madness, and manipulation.

I really had to do this scene justice but there also had to be some kind of justification for Jason to not immediately save his friends. I feel like Jason would consider it. Why would we, the player, even think about it when we just sunk 25ish hours trying to save his friends. Anyway, mini rant over. I didn't want a wall of text at the beginning, so there's another A/N at the bottom.

"Sometimes when you win, you lose."

-Robin Williams, What Dreams May Come

Jason didn't know what this was, but it sure as hell didn't feel like winning.

His brain felt fuzzy and his eyes burned as the pressure at the base of his skull began to recede and, when he blinked again, he was back in Citra's temple. Liza was in front of him, cradling her face into his gloved hand. The shine of the full moon reflected two lines on her face. Was she crying? Why was she crying? Jason released the hand clutching her head and gently shushed her, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

The thing about our loved ones, right? Our fucking loved ones, they come and they blindside you every fucking time. He looked to his right and saw no one there. Don't give them the fucking chance. Do it, Vaas whispered. What did he want him to do? Do it, Jason. Fucking do it!

Shut up.

Jason glanced down and realized there was a knife hovering just inches from Liza's throat. Holy fuck, when the hell did that get there? He decided he was going to fucking kill whoever was holding it. His eyes found the hand holding the blade and trailed up the arm. It was his arm. It was his hand. It was his ceremonial dagger.

Was this even real or was he still hallucinating? The powder Citra gave him was apparently some pretty strong shit, so strong that he could have swore he saw hell: fire and brimstone and screaming. Demons had stood in his way to Citra, yelling, nagging, berating, emasculating. His attention came back to the woman in front of him when Liza began to beg. Why was he still holding the knife? He remembered now. She was one of the demons, she was one of them but right now she was Liza. She was real. They were not.

He tried to move the dagger away, but his arm was frozen in place. Liza tried to back her head away but Jason's hand, the one that gave her comfort only moments ago, held her still. Glassy, frantic blue eyes raised to meet his and begged. Why did she look so afraid? Didn't she know that he wouldn't hurt her? Didn't she know one of the lessons the Rakyat taught him was honor and that the way of the warrior told him not to kill an innocent? Then again, why the hell couldn't he move the fucking knife away from her throat?

"You are strong," Citra's hand ghosted across his back as her sultry voice whispered in his other ear. Between the accent he thought was sexy as hell and the wistful tone he was sure could lead the strongest man to death, he was powerless to stop the warm shiver from running down his spine. "Powerful. One of the best warriors on the island. I have seen you fight, Jason. You could be the best. You will be the best. Complete your tatau, Jason. Break the ties of your family. They hold you back, they make you weak. I love you, Jason, and I want you to do this. For me and for yourself." She stroked his cheek, he absently nodded. "The Rakyat need a leader. I will make you a king." The way she was looking at him, with such passion, such intensity, he was nearly helpless to deny her anything.

And Jason really considered it. She wasn't wrong: they had all tried to convince him to slow down at one point or another. Plus, she promised him a good life with sex and thrill and adventure, everything he'd always craved. Suddenly, L.A. seemed tedious, monotonous. Worthless. He'd killed hundreds of times before and really, what was once more? Just add a little pressure, a little more force, and swipe sideways. He could stay on the Rook Islands.

He could finally be free.

His thoughts were interrupted when blue eyes, beautiful blue eyes he'd loved so much, met his and flared in horror. She must have known what he was thinking, she was always good at that. He didn't want to see her so sad and scared, but their eyes were glued together and he couldn't tear them away and he was stuck. She rubbed her cheek against his hand. "No, Jas! Please! Please… please, Jason! I'm sorry. I know I should've been more supportive," she whimpered. "No, Jason. No! No, please!" Her voice broke and she lost control as sobs wracked her body.

Jason lowered the blade. Been more supportive? Sure, Liza has frowned at his tatau and glared at his weapons, but she didn't understand. None of them did. They didn't feel the rush, the thrill, the feeling of holding someone else's life in your hands. He could understand that, but why was she blaming herself? She'd never done anything wrong and always tried her best not to disappoint anyone. Hell, she even turned down a fucking Hollywood role to skydive with him. She shouldn't have even been here in the first place.

Look at the way she's looking at you, Jas, another voice sneered. It wasn't Vaas this time. Who was it? She thinks you're crazy. She thinks you finally lost it. You're allowing her to breathe the same air as you and, look at her, Snow White. Look at that worthless bitch. She's disrespecting you, man. Show her what you do to someone when they disrespect you. Jason turned his head and frowned at what he saw.

A privateer, his neck bent and head drooping sideways at an odd angle, slid his arm around Jason's shoulders like they were old friends. Just like Ollie would do when he was trying to convince him to party even harder. From this distance, Jason had to crane his neck to read the stitching on the jacket. Foster. Why the hell wasn't the Rakyat stopping him?

Shh. That's it, it's all right. It'll all be over soon. Foster grabbed Jason's wrist and raised the blade back to Liza's throat. He was pushing hard enough to make a mark. All you gotta do is end this little bitch's existence. Just like you ended mine.

Jason wanted to take a step back, away from Liza. He didn't know what was scarier: that he couldn't move away or that Foster was right. She was looking at him like he was a monster.

"Please, Jason. Please…don't."

His mouth was moving before he could stop it. "I don't like the way you're looking at me, Liza. Stop looking at me like that." What the hell was he saying? "Stop fucking looking at me like I'm fucking crazy!" Shit. Even to his own ears he sounded batshit. Didn't Vaas say those exact fucking words to him? Jason looked to his right and Foster was gone. It was just him, holding the knife. Fuck, he was hurting her and he couldn't even stop himself. He didn't think he'd ever seen her look more terrified and it was all directed at him. Liza finally averted her eyes, pinched her mouth, and stopped begging.

Shit, he needed to fix this, he wanted to apologize. His brain formed the sounds but his mouth choked on the words when her body caught fire. Suddenly, with skin burnt black and malice glowing her eyes gold, she wasn't Liza anymore.

Some warrior you are, she screamed at him. You're not a real warrior. I bet you shot Vaas in the back! You think you deserve those tattoos? Whatever hold the voices had on his body released him and he quickly backpedaled, fingernails digging into his ears. I'm taking them back. I'm deleting them, Jason.

Shut the fuck up.

He wanted to slit her throat, he really did. But then she was Liza again, sweet and harmless, silently weeping and mouth pinched shut. And he was pressing the knife even harder into her throat. God, even though he was careful not to draw blood, he felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. The worst part was he couldn't stop himself.

Maybe he was a monster.

Fuck, this was all his fault: he brought them skydiving. It was his fault Riley was tortured and Keith was raped. It was his fault Grant was dead. He shouldn't be dead, he shouldn't have been shot. He always knew what to do and never hesitated to do the right thing. If Grant were here instead of him, he would have cut all of them free immediately. Liza, Daisy, Ollie, Keith, Riley. They would all be free. Why the hell was he hesitating? Why the hell couldn't he move? Why the hell didn't Vaas shoot him instead?

Did I ever tell you the definition of insanity, hermano? It's you, Jason, Vaas laughed, shrill and cruel and too close to his ear. You are insanity.

"Shut the fuck up!" He was not insane, even if everyone stared at him like he was. He didn't know what he was but he was not insane. Jason screamed and lunged forward with the knife. Liza cried and fought and panicked. He couldn't kill her though; he would have to be insane to kill her. If he did, she would be right there with Vaas in his head. Maybe, if he saved his friends, they would all be able to forgive him. Maybe Vaas would leave him alone.

He brought the blade up and severed the ties at Liza's hands, careful to avoid her wrists. She must have been hanging there longer than he'd thought because, as soon as the ropes were cut, she slumped forward and gracelessly hit the ground with a whump.

He hoped she could tell how sorry he was, how much like an asshole he felt. When he crouched next to her, her eyes held the same fear and apprehension as before, but she hugged him anyway. That was enough. That's why he fell in love with her, he remembered. She grounded him. She forgave him for all the stupid shit he did, even when they both knew he didn't deserve it. A shaky sigh passed her lips and her hand rested on top of his, on top of the knife, pleading for him to let go.

He gave it up.

Citra, probably unhappy about his decision, indignantly approached Jason and pulled him up and away from Liza, clinging to his other hand with desperation glinting in her wide eyes. "Jason, what are you doing? You could be-" He shushed her, waited for Liza to move to help Daisy, and tugged her aside, leading her down the stairs and away from his friends.

"Remember, after I killed Vaas? I made a promise to you, I told you-" Jason huffed at the sound of footsteps urgently approaching them. Someone was climbing the steps. Jason scoffed; whoever it was, they weren't even trying to be quiet. It must be one of the new warriors, he thought.

Jason recognized the man first by the glimmer of moonlight on wide glasses and second by the green army jacket. Dennis sprinted up the stairs two at a time like a bat out of hell, jealousy and fury marring his face. "Jason, what is wrong with you? Citra, she saved everyone. She saved me, she saved you, she loves you and still you reject her love." Dennis groaned and when Jason saw the gleam of a knife in his hand, he reached for the machete sheathe on his hip. He cursed to himself. It wasn't there and neither were his rucksack or ammo belts or anything else that could be remotely useful.

Jason considered disarming him. It should be easy enough. Dennis obviously wasn't the best in hand-to-hand combat: he was holding the blade way too loose and was leaving his body wide open.

When Dennis reached back and made to rush at him, Jason prepared himself to sidestep and counter but Citra rested a hand on Dennis' shoulder, stilling him immediately. Jason looked the other man in the eyes and nearly laughed. Big and brown and mad, just like the island's rabid dogs. He was tempted to tell Citra to send her mutt back to the kennel.

Fuck, maybe he was crazy.

Jason tore his eyes away from Dennis when he heard how desperate Citra sounded, almost like she was going to cry. He didn't know if he could handle that. "Jason, why are you doing this? You are leaving the island? You will stop being a warrior, a hero, for these—these people," she spat. "They have no idea what you have been through, how much you have grown. How much you are capable of. Look at me, Jason. Stay with me," she demanded. "I love you, Jason. You do not need these people. They do not-" Jason cupped her face in his hands. She really was beautiful, even when she was angry, even when she was starting to piss him off.

I get that, hermano, I get it. I mean without family, who the fuck are we?

Jason felt the familiar flare of anger wash over him and heat his tatau. His bandaged finger throbbed. "They're not just fucking people, Citra, they're my family. I already promised you I would stay here, with you. Relax. There doesn't have to be any more violence, not here, not anymore. No more- no Citra, let me finish. No more blood." Citra's frown deepened, bitter and confused. In that moment, she reminded him more of a pouty child than a Rakyat warrior the others considered a goddess. "My friends, they haven't done anything to you or any of the Rakyat. They've been put through enough hell, so they're going to leave." He pulled her close.

"Fine," Citra folded. That was a hell of a lot easier than Jason expected. Maybe he scared her too. "I will allow them to leave. But you must stay here with me. They do not need you. They can handle themselves. We need you. Our ancestors called you here so that you could lead our people."

What she said brought Jason's thoughts to a screeching halt. Why had they come here? Jason couldn't believe he hadn't even though about it before. Citra thought they were brought by some fucked up gods, but that wasn't right. They didn't come so he could lead these people and they sure as shit weren't brought by anyone's dead family. This whole situation was an accident, right?

He and his friends went skydiving and when they landed, they had just enough time to get the equipment off and find a good spot to sunbathe before the pirates emerged from the bushes and captured them. It all seemed to happen so quick, so smooth. Almost too smooth. Jason felt like he was missing something, like there was something that should be so glaringly obvious but he just couldn't fully grasp it.

It was almost like Hoyt and Vaas knew they were coming, but that was impossible. They chose to go skydiving. They chose to come to the islands. They chose to come to a place-

Where you could do anything.

Wait. That's what Doug, the DJ at that club had told them. Suddenly, things that Jason couldn't remember through the haze of the shots started to click into place.

Something had seemed slightly off about Doug. The way the DJ hovered around their group, the way he personally asked for song requests from their group just after Grant flashed his money and bought them another round of shots. The way the elevator just happened to be open and waiting when the fight started. The way he was the only other one in the elevator when he told them about the island.

Now that he thought about it, wasn't Doug wearing a red tank top? Weren't the pilots of the skydiving tour wearing red singlets? At the time, Jason thought it was just a part of the skydiving business' uniform but now—now they were too familiar. Why hadn't he realize it before: Doug and the pilots were working with Vaas!

Holy shit, they were fucked from the start.

Citra snapped her fingers expectantly, he muttered a curse. "Listen, Citra. I promised you I would kill your brother and I did. I promised you I would kill Hoyt and I did. I killed so many pirates and so many privateers but—but they're not all gone. They're not all dead. The men that brought us here, the men who took us skydiving, they were in on it. Your brother had men working for him outside the islands, in Bangkok." Somehow, it hurt to say it out loud. Like it made everything that happened so much more real. He decided then he wouldn't tell his friends about Doug. They didn't need any more stress.

He needed to make sure this doesn't happen again to anyone else. "I need to go back to Bangkok with my friends, Citra, but I'll be back." He could see it flooding her eyes, pinching her face. Doubt. Dennis moved to interrupt but apparently thought better of it when Jason glared. "Now it's your turn. Look at me, Citra. Does it look like I'm lying? I'm not joking when I say I'm supposed to be here. This is my home now, but I have to make sure that my home is safe. I promise you, I swear to you, I'll be back." He sealed his lips to hers.

The kiss was meant to be an oath, saying everything he couldn't to make her understand. He had to do this and he would be back. Clearly, Citra didn't see it as that, if the way she pulled back and frowned at him was any indication. She shouldn't frown like that. She was so much more beautiful when she was smiling. "What if I say no?"

Kill her, hermano. Drive a bullet through her skull.

Jason ignored the voice. "If you say no, the pirates still have men on the outside. Men that could easily recruit more and send them to fight us. I've met one of them personally, Citra. He's charismatic and clever and manipulative as hell. It wouldn't be hard for him to gather an army, shit, especially since he knows exactly where we are and how to get here." He held her hand in both of his and gave his best try at a meaningful look. She still looked unimpressed.

She nearly jerked away but he kissed her to try to silence whatever protest was forming on her lips. "Please, Citra, let me go. I have to do this."

She shook her head. "I cannot allow you to leave. I love you too much, Jason. I have waited so long for you and I cannot wait any more."

Just drive a fucking bullet through her fucking skull.

Jason knew he couldn't let a dead man control him. He wasn't crazy enough to actually shoot her, but he could listen and maybe Vaas had a point. A bullet. Maybe that's all it would take. If she was going to deny him what he wanted, he would just have to deny her what she wanted.

He dropped her hands and stepped away from her, towards Dennis, and leaned close as if to tell him something. Dennis did exactly what Jason wanted: he tightened his grip on the knife. "You can't kill me," Jason whispered to the other man before turning and grabbing the pistol from Dennis' hip holster: a 6P9 Makarov, extended mag. Jason quickly put distance between himself and the other Rakyat and made sure his back was against the wall of the temple, away from where his friends could see. They didn't need to see what he was about to do.

Jason examined the gun with a sick fascination and tested its weight. He quickly checked the extended magazine. Good, it was full. Ten bullets. It felt heavy in his hands when he aimed it at Dennis. No response, so he tried Citra. Dennis growled but still no reaction from her. It was only when he lifted the cool metal of the barrel to his own head just like in the visions that Citra finally cracked.

Jason heard a weak flurry of 'no' escape Citra and met Dennis' glare. "If you keep me from leaving with them, if you keep me from protecting my people, then you're not worthy of me." She choked on a gasp and Dennis growled. Hopefully that hurt just enough to get through to her, to show her he was serious. Jason knew it was a huge gamble, but he'd always loved to take risks. Besides, he was certain the odds were strongly in his favor. If she really did love him as much as she said, she would stop him.

"No, Jason. No. Please, don't." Jason almost laughed. He had no intention of actually pulling the trigger, but some part of him thought it was nice to hear someone begging for his life. Fuck, he was really starting to scare himself.

"That's why you gave me the tatau, right? So I could fight for the Rakyat, so I could fight for you? I'm going to fight for you, Citra. I'm going to go with them whether you like it or not. Don't make me do this, Citra."

Citra leveled him a frantic, heavy look and finally relented, turning towards Dennis. "Go. Grab the best warriors you can find and three vehicles. Find them a ship. No matter what happens, I want them safe. All of them. Protect them with your life, warrior." She shooed him off when he hesitated, mouth agape in protest. "Go." Dennis turned and left with his tail between his legs.

Once he was far enough away, Citra visibly deflated. Jason lowered but didn't drop the gun when she approached him. She palmed his cheek, ran a thumb across his lips, and affectionately nuzzled her forehead against his. "Jason, look at me. I love you. Please, you do not have to do this." She sighed. "Please, come back to me. You come back, and I am yours. We are yours." Not once did she try to take the pistol.

Jason glanced above them and saw that Daisy had the blade and all the bonds were cut. Daisy and Liza were halfway down the steps, watching him, and Ollie and Riley were trying to walk a whimpering Keith forward. Fuck. How much of that did they see? He would have to deal with it later, once they were off the island and he had a few beers in him.

Jason nodded to the girls, then to Citra. "I will. For what it's worth, you have my word," he was pretty sure he'd never felt this high from relief before. He reached down with a smirk and pulled back the sleeve of his privateer uniform, revealing the ink that nearly reached his hand. "After all, I still have to complete my tatau. When I return, I will be the best warrior on the islands."

A/N: Now that the first chapter's out of the way, I'm going to try to keep this short. I know I'm pretty late to the party as far as Far Cry 3 goes but holy shit, that game drew me in and wouldn't let go. Especially when I saw how great Michael Mando's portrayal of Vaas is and how he really brings the character to life. Especially when I accidentally skipped the credits, looked up the incredible music that plays during the beginning of them, and found the song. You know, the one that starts with ticking? The one that plays at the end and during the Vaas fight scene? It's called "I'm Sorry." Holy fucking shit, that song. Just the title of that song. I'd like to think I'm not super overanalyzing it when I say that between that and Jason's tiny monologue at the end of the "friends ending," so much more depth was added to Jason's character. It moved me enough to lose hours of sleep and to write. The fact that he wasn't okay at the end made it so much more believable.

Anyway, this is my first fanfic and hopefully I'm only gonna say this once: but I would appreciate it if you did something. Anything. Review, favorite, follow, PM just so I know I'm doing something right. Also don't hesitate to criticize or tell me if I'm doing something wrong or if I missed something. It's all appreciated.