This is the first time I've ever written anything remotely related to Jak & Dax, and I hadn't really expected to; but I just felt the need to let out this little splurge of text as I found myself recalling one of the most sorrowful moments I can remember from Jak 3. It's not very well-done or lengthy and for that I apologize; but I decided I'd be better of sharing it than not.
I don't know if it'll ever leave me.
The horrified realization as that man—no, my father—died in my arms. A father that never recognized me as his son. A father that was never even given the chance…
Never during my life had I ever experienced such feelings of desolation and loss. I'd encountered many painful things in my life, there was no mistaking that.
My best friend being forever turned into a furry rodent because of me… being torn away from Sandover Village and everything I knew in a cruel twist of fate… even the years of Dark Eco torture supervised by Erol and Baron Praxis, which tore away at my very sanity and core of being, could not come close to the grief that I felt then and there.
Back in Sandover, I didn't really have a family. Samos looked after me, and I spent my days with Daxter and Keira, but I always felt a pang in my heart whenever Keira called Samos "daddy" or heard the fond exchanges between them. I was always aware of something missing, something that should have been there but wasn't.
Looking down at the lifeless face of the man I recently discovered to be my father, I felt as though fate were mocking me, finally giving me the father I desired and then snatching his life away before we even knew each other's true identities.
The last task he'd entrusted me with, to find his son, told me that he truly valued me as an ally. If only he knew the irony of the situation.
He gave me the Seal of Mar, and I suddenly understood with a wretched horror that I was the son he'd longed so much to find. There was not even a chance to tell him that I'd already found his son before the life left his body.
It shouldn't have been that way. There should've been a joyous reunion, a long-delayed embrace of father and son, and a promise to make up for lost time.
Instead, I was left there kneeling in the sand, holding the body of my dead father and feeling twisted and broken inside.