Author's Notes: This was written as a Christmas gift to... guess. Who are my fics always for:cough:LoverofSilverHairedBishies:cough: As usual, now that the holiday's over and done with, I'm postin' it up here for the rest of you. :)
As requested by her, I wrote a fic in which Torn and Jak have A Moment (capitalization hers) of (non-yaoi) male-bonding time in a bar. It takes place sometime during Jak 3 after Jak comes back from Spargus the first time, though I didn't really have an exact timeframe in mind. Best to think of it as between Jak's return and the mission where you open up the way to Freedom HQ, though.
Only the ottsel is drunk.
Disclaimer: I don't own Jak & Daxter or anything associated with their universe. If I did, you can bet we'd all be riding around on zoomers instead of in cars. :snerk:
Enjoy!
Fighting Spirit
Torn didn't like quitters. As one who had dedicated his life to the betterment of his city, despite how little gratitude he got in return, Torn was the type of person who never said 'die.' He didn't lead his troops into battle with the expectation that he'd receive a medal for it later; he did it because it was the right thing to do.
So when Ashelin had returned from the desert without Jak in tow, Torn was disappointed in the young man. He knew the blond was pretty stubborn, but he didn't think he was so heartless that he'd abandon the people who needed him, even if they had thrown him out in the desert because they feared him. Torn thought that Jak ought to have known by that point that Havenites weren't so quick to trust.
When Jak (and, to Torn's chagrin, Daxter) returned a few days later, Torn was ready to forgive and forget, especially since Jak had thrown himself right into the fray for them. He appreciated the help. But something in Jak's attitude had changed for the worse, and it was beginning to annoy Torn.
It was beginning to really annoy Torn.
Jak and the rodent had just returned from blowing the bejeezus out of another wave of Blast Bots, and were now sitting at the bar inside the Naughty Ottsel, apparently intent on drinking themselves into oblivion before turning in for the night.
'Not on my watch,' Torn thought.
Jak had just poured himself another drink, no doubt stronger than the beer he'd just finished, and was in the process of raising it to his mouth.
Torn snatched the glass away from the blond, frowning severely.
"You're too young to be sitting in a bar, drinking your problems away," he admonished.
He received a glare in return.
"You don't know anything about my problems," Jak growled.
"Yeah -hic- so shuddup about it!" Daxter slurred from his sprawled position on the counter.
"No," Torn said to Jak, choosing to ignore the ottsel, "I don't. So let me rephrase that: you're too young to be drinking. Period."
"Who died and made you boss?" Jak sneered, making a grab for the glass, but Torn held it out of his reach.
"A lot of people have died for me," Torn said tersely. "And as I recall, you came to me for employment, so you made me boss."
"Y'don't pay us," Daxter muttered. "Bar's mine any-hic-way – Jak can drink iffy wants ta."
Jak looked at Torn expectantly.
Torn put the glass to his mouth and downed the contents in one gulp.
Jak leapt to his feet.
"What's your problem?!"
"I'm sick of your moping, whiney crap," Torn said, standing as well. "You're mad at the city for throwing you out – that's good for you. Except that it's not their fault you got thrown out. Why don't you take some of your attitude problem out on the guy who's actually responsible for it – go kick Veger's ass."
"Right," Jak said, "go kick Veger's ass so that you and your guys don't have to worry about him anymore."
Daxter worked himself into a wobbly but upright position, a worried look on his face.
"Jak…"
"You want me to go fight Veger because you and your whole army are too weak to take him out yourselves."
Torn's eyes darkened, and Daxter upped his pleas.
"Jak, that's the booze talking…"
"This has been a long time coming," Jak snarled. "You think you can just hide behind me and that I'll just keep on protecting and defending this city; you're out of your mind. I've got NO obligation to you people. NONE!"
"That must be real nice." Torn emphasized the word, slamming the empty glass down on the bar. Daxter, startled off balance, toppled over.
Torn went on, "It must be just peachy to have no attachments to anyone, to just turn your back on an entire city full of people and shrug them off as being unimportant. Poor you."
"It must be 'just peachy' having people actually trust that you're not a bad person just because you've had some bad stuff happen to you," Jak countered.
"So you're just going to sit around here and sulk, huh?" Torn asked. "'Boo hoo, nobody appreciates me.' That may be the case, but you're handling it like a two-year-old," Torn said, scowling. "You know what you do when life gives you a pile of crap? You light it on fire and put it on someone's doorstep. You don't sit around and smell it."
"Tha's really gross," Daxter complained from the floor.
"Yeah, it is. And it's exactly what Jak's doing," Torn said. "Why don't you quit your whining and go do something about it? Not for me; not for Haven – you want Veger to win because he kicked you out of the city and broke your spirit? I had you pegged as stronger than that."
"He didn't break me," Jak said angrily.
"It sure as hell looks like he did."
The two men glared at each other for several moments, before Jak finally sighed, sitting back down and looking away.
"You don't understand." The anger from before had drained out of his voice.
Torn sat down next to him. "I think I have a better idea than you're giving me credit for."
Jak glanced at him, unconvinced. "Yeah?"
"Look, Jak. Life sucks if you just let all the power-hungry people out there take control and run with it; you and I both know that. The reason you and I do all the fighting that we do is to try to get life as we know it to not suck quite as badly. And yeah, people don't really show any appreciation for what we're doing for them every day. People like to shoot their mouths off; people like having someone to blame. They shove the blame for the city's fall on you because Veger's the one in power right now, and they're afraid of him."
"So what about you?" Jak questioned, helping a woozy Daxter up to sit on the bar again. "Have you ever been thrown out of the city for trying to help their ungrateful hides?"
"No," Torn said calmly. "But think about it – how much support did the Underground get in fighting the Baron?"
"I don't know…"
"Not a whole heck of a lot," Torn said. "The Baron had the upper hand, not me. You think these people wanted to get involved in the crossfire? Of course not; they were the same then as they are now. If they'd found out where I was hiding out, they'd have turned me in to the Baron in a second; he had quite the bounty on my head."
"But you still fight for them." Jak sounded confused.
"Yeah," Torn said, regarding him solemnly. "Yeah, I still do."
"Why?"
"Someone has to."
"Why does it have to be us?"
"It doesn't," Torn said. "I do it because I want to, not because I have to. I do it because I understand that the rest of Haven City is too scared to take charge. What you need to do is figure out what your motives are. If you've got them, then Ashelin and I and the others will be happy to have you on our side. If you haven't…"
"…Then I can go back out in the desert."
Torn frowned. "We're not going to throw you back out there," he said.
"But if I just sit around here and don't fight for you, I'm just dead weight, right?" Jak muttered sardonically.
Torn stood up, turning away from the blond.
"Haven't you figured it out, yet?" he asked, walking towards the back rooms. He was tired of this conversation; he had a lot to do in the morning and he needed some sleep.
"Figured what out?" Jak asked after him.
Torn glanced back over his shoulder. "You're not just a gun-for-hire, Jak. Quit taking everything so personally. Friends don't see their friends as dead weight, got it? We're not going to mind you sticking around whether you fight with us or not."
A look of genuine shock flickered over Jak's features, and Torn scowled to himself; apparently the kid really had thought none of them cared about him.
"You better not -hic- have a problem with us bein' here," Daxter said finally, breaking the silence, "'cause this is still my bar!"
Torn snorted, but didn't respond. As he entered the back room and prepared to go to sleep, he already had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen the next day.
Jak wasn't a quitter, and Jak would fight. And maybe if he kept at it long enough, he'd see that he had plenty worth fighting for.
End Notes: Wheeeeee. I hope you all liked this one; I'm really kind of fond of how it turned out, which is rare. I'm a little worried that Torn was too open and honest about things, but he does like to monologue a bit, so hopefully...
As always, reviews of any kind are much appreciated. Hope everyone enjoyed their holiday season and is having a very happy New Year!