AN: Because Keira deserved more than what she got in Jak 3. No obvious pairings, but Jak's a little awkward, though you don't have to read any into that if you don't want to. Don't ask why she's in Spargus in the first place – just assume she convinced Jak to let her come along or something.
Disclaimer: The Jak & Daxter franchise is property of Naughty Dog; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image is by the lovely bluandorange on tumblr.
Saviour
by Miss Mungoe
Chapter 1: grease-monkey business
–or the day Kleiver learned the size of your girth doesn't necessarily make a difference when it comes to knowledge of motors
There were a lot of things Kleiver wasn't sure of but one thing he did know, and he knew it about as well as he knew how long to cook a slab of kangarat meat to get it just the right amount of bloody, and that was vehicles. Hell, he'd even go so far as to say there was no one in Spargus who knew buggies like he did.
And it was an unspoken rule in Spargus that you didn't go around touching the buggies without his permission. "Hey!"
A head popped up from beneath the hood of the Sand Shark, before a small hand shoved a pair of goggles up to a wide forehead, and he found himself looking at the grease-smudged face of a girl so pale she screamed smog-born Havenite from a league away. But that wasn't the oddest part by far. "The hell d'ya think yer doin'?"
She blinked, and tilted her head, as though she hadn't just been caught elbow-deep in someone else's vehicle. "Are you the mechanic?" she asked, as she wiped her hands on a rag she'd plucked from her belt. "Because I've got a few ideas. Now, I've mostly worked with zoomers, but it doesn't seem all that different, and–" she stopped, probably at the look on his face, and smiled sheepishly. "Ah, sorry – I get so excited, I forgot to introduce myself!" She laughed. "I'm Keira," she said, and held out a hand that looked too damn dainty for the black smudges that seemed to have seeped into the skin of her palms. She offered a smile. "Friend of Jak's."
Kleiver snorted. "The city boy, huh? You hailin' from Haven then?"
She grimaced at that, but didn't correct him. "Something like that." She threw another look at the buggy. "It's not home," she added, like that was supposed to explain it.
But Kleiver wasn't one to question another person's conceptionof home, and so he only grumbled, "Yeah, well, this ain't a place for smog-lurkers," he snapped as he pushed past her, to slam the hood of the Sand Shark back down. "And this ain't a zoomer."
She pursed her lips, and shifted her weight to her hip. "I know. I said I've mostly worked with zoomers. That doesn't mean I can't flip this baby on it's side and get her running." She shrugged. "Land-bound motors aren't that different."
"Buggies," he corrected her.
She quirked a brow. "Sorry. Buggies."
Kleiver glared, but she didn't back down, and with another grumble he turned to walk away, wondering if he ignored her she'd scamper off to look for the blonde brat. But when he glanced back over his shoulder, she was still there.
"I don't see Blondie around." Which was about as good a hint as any that she should beat it.
But she only shrugged at that, too. "Jak went out on a run, whatever that means. He said I should have a look around, but," she threw a glance towards the entrance to the city with a sheepish smile. "I got distracted."
He snorted. "I can see that."
She cheerfully ignored his rising ire. "So, the buggy over there. Have you considered–"
"No."
"But–"
"No."
She was quick on her feet, though, and circled around him when he turned away again. "Hey!" she snapped, hands on her skinny hips. "If you think I'm going to let you push me around just because you want to keep your toys to yourself then think again. I'm the best mechanic in Haven – you should be begging me to have a look at your motors. Sorry, buggies."
Kleiver laughed. "Best mechanic? Pop, ya don't even look old enough ta drive."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "I learned early."
"Sure ya did."
"I invent– I mean I built my first zoomer when I was thirteen. With limited equipment, I might add."
He threw her a look. "And whaddaya want, a medal? Go snap at someone else's heels, girly, I ain't got time fer this."
But she was a persistent lass, he'd give her that, and when he looked up there was a determined light in her eyes. "I bet I can fix it."
He raised a brow in challenge. "Nothin' here that needs fixin'."
She smiled at that – the kind of smile that told him she wasn't buying any of his crap. "So that little one over there is running smoothly, is it? Because from the look of the engine, I'd say you wouldn't get it started, much less out the front gate."
Kleiver glared, but she didn't back down, only tilted her head and raised her brows, as though daring him to contradict her. After a moment's stand-off, he snorted. "Caught that, did ya?"
She shrugged. "A blind mechanic could have caught that."
"And ya think ya can fix it?"
She raised her chin in return. "I bet I can."
He barked a laugh quite despite himself. "Yer a bold sort, ain'tcha?"
"I didn't get to where I am today by cowering in a corner, if that's what you're asking. Haven's great for racing, but it's a tough business making it as a mechanic, especially if you're a woman."
"And ya know, 'cause yer at the top, that right?"
She nodded, and seemed to ignore his blatant suspicion. "That's right. Personal mechanic to last year's racing champion."
He looked her over once – from the googles perched on her head to the tool-belt that looked too wide for her waist but that she carried without seeming to notice. "Don't strike me as the exaggeratin' sort."
She smirked. "That's because I'm not."
He regarded her closely. "I've a feelin' there's somethin' more ya want."
"When I fix it, I want to take it for a spin."
He burst out laughing at that – honestly, because that was the last thing he'd expected. The grease on her palms notwithstanding, she didn't look like the type who could turn a wheel. "For a spin? Ya realize this desert ain't a race track? Ain't no streets out in the wasteland, girly."
She only quirked a brow at that. "Just because I live in Haven," she said then, "doesn't mean I grew up there. I know terrain like this, and I've driven zoomers over worse."
"This ain't a–"
"–zoomer, I know, so you've said." And hell if her gall didn't have him a little impressed.
She crossed her arms over her chest. "So, what will it be?"
Kleiver shook his head, but hesitated. He didn't like Havenites as a rule, but the girl seemed an odd sort – a little rougher around the edges than the usual type who came crawling out of the big smoke, elbow-deep in motor-oil and looking for all the world like she damn well could flip a buggy on its side if she put her mind to it.
And so, "Fine, ya fix the Shark, I'll let ya drive it."
She grinned – wide and clever and promising nothing but trouble, and for a split second Kleiver was damn glad he'd never had any daughters. "And if I drive it and I beat you in a race?"
He had to laugh at that, because damn it all but the girl was amusing. With a shake of his head, he turned towards the entrance to the city, throwing his answer over his shoulder as he went,
"Pop, ya beat me in a race I'll damn well let ya have the bloody thing."
When the Dune Hopper pulled into the garage later that evening, Jak was half expecting Kleiver to be ready to tear them a new one for unleashing Keira on his babies. But as he pulled the buggy to a stop and killed the engine, there was no burly shape thundering towards them to physically pull them from the vehicle.
"Dude, it's quiet. You think he killed her?"
He threw Daxter a look, and the ottsel raised a brow. "What? You know how she gets when there's engines around. And Porn-Stache isn't exactly known for his patience."
Jak only shook his head as he dropped down from the vehicle, raking a hand through his hair to get some of the sand out. Daxter climbed over the hood to land on his shoulder. "Keira can take care of herself."
Daxter was quiet a moment. Then, "What if he ate her?"
"Dax."
"What?"
Jak only sighed as he cut across the garage. It was dark, but there were lantern lit by the entrance to the city, and, he was surprised to see as he neared the door, there were two shapes sitting by the buggies parked near the steps, and as he came closer he heard Keira's voice over the howl of the wind pushing against the city wall outside.
"What the hell is–" he heard Daxter mutter. "Are they drinking?"
"–and so I told him, I said, are you sure – are you sure you want me to get my manager, because I can just as easily fix your zoomer, it'll take me five minutes, tops. But he's all," and here she lowered her voice, "'I'd never let a woman touch my zoomer. I'd like to see the manager of this garage, little lady – he's supposed to be the best in the city'. And so I go, right? And then," she laughed as she took a sip of the tankard, "and when she comes out, the look on his face."
And then Kleiver laughed, and Jak was sure the world had tipped right off its axis.
"Motherflippin' Precursors," Daxter whispered by his ear. "Old Walrus went and lost his marbles."
Kleiver snorted, and sipped his own tankard. "Can't believe that old fox still runs the race garage – gal used ta be around when I still lived in the city." He barked another laugh. "Old as all hell now, I wager."
Keira laughed, and then seemed to notice their arrival. "Hey, guys!" She waved them over. "What are you standing over there for?"
Jak hesitated, casting a glance at Kleiver. "Uh."
The scarred wastelander smirked. "See ya nippers made it back. Was wonderin' if ya'd make it through the storm."
"Jak, Jak, Tub is smiling. What the hell do we do?"
"Yeah," Jak said, ignoring the ottsel and shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he took in the strange sight before him. It didn't get any less strange the more he looked at them. "So...I see you've met."
"Eloquent, Jak. Really. Prime dialogue right there."
"Shut up, Dax."
Keira smiled. "Kleiver gave me a crash-course in buggy maintenance so I can make sure you've got your wheels ready for whenever you go out," she declared, like she would have declared that she'd had a 'fine day, thanks, it was a little bit warm but otherwise swell'. "Ooh!" she exclaimed then, and with a wide grin patted the wheel of the buggy to her right. "And I got this one!"
Jak took a moment to let her words sink in, looked at the Sand Shark, then back at the grinning mechanic. "You...got it?"
"Th' Shark belongs ta girly now, gents," Kleiver announced, lifting his tankard to his lips, "Tough luck."
Daxter sat a little straighter on his shoulder. "Come again, wide load?"
The old wastelander glared at the insult, but waved in Keira's direction. "All's fair. I told her she'd get it if she beat me in a race."
Jak balked. "You what?"
She blinked. "What? I wanted to drive – you said it was fun!"
"Yeah, but, Keira that's dangerous!"
She wrinkled her nose, the way she always did whenever her old man told her to stay in the garage and off the race-track. "Being a little bit of a hypocrite there, Jak?" she asked then, "Or are those not teeth-sized dents in your buggy over there?" And there was that calm note to her voice he remembered from their childhood – the one that was so infinitely much worse than a screaming fit, but that packed about the same punch.
"Sweet mercy it's the A-Grav all over again," Daxter groaned into his ear. "We'll never hear the end of this."
"At least we didn't lose it in the volcano this time," Jak muttered.
"This time," Daxter said. "Wait until lard ass over there tells her about what happened to the Dozer – she'll box your ears for that!"
"Wh – my ears? You were the one who said it could make the jump!"
"I miscalculated, okay?!"
"What are you two whispering about?"
Jak stiffened, and threw a glance over at the mechanic, who watched them with an entirely too innocent look on her face. "Uh. Nothing."
She raised a brow. "Really? Because I'm sure I heard 'volcano' in there somewhere."
Daxter shook his head vigorously. "No volcanoes. I hate volcanoes."
She raised a brow, but didn't push the matter. Instead she calmly sipped her tankard, and said, "Well, either way, you can bring your buggies to me next time to mess them up. I'll make sure they're at least in top condition when you send them flying into molten fire."
"Yeah, sure. Wait – what? You're staying?"
She nodded. "That's what I said. There's not much I can do in Haven right now but hover at everyone's elbows, so I figured why not? Kleiver said my skills could benefit the city."
Jak glanced at Kleiver, disbelief making his voice a little too high for comfort, "Did you tell her about the arena?"
"Hey – I'm right here," she snapped, drawing his attention with a wave of her hand before the wastelander could answer. "And yes, he did. What, you don't think I can make it? I spent a whole year in the Underground before you two showed up, you know. I didn't just work in the garage. And who do you think has been testing all of Tess' new gun mods while you've been away? Sweet Precursors what do you take me for, wall décor?"
Jak found the verbal thrown-down awfully reminiscent of the first time they'd crashed her first zoomer, and found he didn't have much more to say than he'd had back then.
Seeming to take their collective silence as approval, Keira leaned back against the side of the Sand Shark. "I know how you two operate, you know. Someone needs to make sure these wheels can handle your manhandling. And anyway," she grinned, and raised her tankard, and Jak wondered a moment if bringing her to Spargus had been an entirely short-sighted idea.
"It's a miracle you two have lasted this long without me."
AN: The fact that they did survive without her is still surprising to me, considering how much they depended on her in the two preceding games. Also, a shout-out to Rocket Owl's fic Torque, where the owner of Keira's race garage is a woman! (you should all go read that by the way, because her hero!Keira is ten different kinds of amazing)