Title: Just Talk
Summary: A lot of questions need to be asked eventually. It's answering them that can be the hard part.
Point of View: Jak
Rated: PG13 or T for Teen for language

A/n: Finally, a new addition to this collect. Yessh, tis another one from Jak's POV and the theme is also pretty much the same. This is what I get for reading too much anti-JakxKeira. Please read it with an open mind tho and enjoy

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"Jak?"

The man in question looked up from the table that had occupied his attention for a good number of hours to the communicator sitting across from him. The screen was lit, the image of the face it displayed distorted and inverted from the angle at which he was sitting.

"Jak…? Could we…talk?"

The hero continued to stare at the device for a moment longer before reaching over to pick it up somewhat gingerly. The screen was much clearer now, giving him an all too clear view of the tear-stained face on the other end of the connection. There was a pause, during which he was withdrawn and looked past his comm. to bare wall of his room, thinking. When the moment was gone, he hesitantly flicked the switch fixed to the side of the hand-held machine.

"Sure," he replied into it, voice rougher than usual. "C'mon over." The other end of the line remained silent but the image it showed nodded in understanding. Then the screen went dark and, with a sigh, Jak returned it to the table and rose from his chair all together.

His visitor would be arriving in twenty, maybe thirty minutes. A quick, cold shower was taken and the youth changed his clothes. Then he set to making some coffee. A knock came from the door across the small room a few minutes after the beverage had finished brewing. Thinking of the perfect timing almost sourly, he rose from the seat he had once again filled in waiting. Upon opening the door he was met by the same red-eyed face that had adorned the tech currently on the table-top.

"Come in," he instructed quietly, moving aside for the guest to do just that. "Make yourself at home."

"I've never..." Keira trailed off as she entered, looking around her. A small, half smile crossed her face and she shook her head, deciding it would be better to start over completely. "Nice place," she said finally, turning around to face her host. The other elf shrugged, giving the door a push back into its frame.

"It's a crap heap and you know it," he muttered, moving past her. One room with a only a bed, a stove and sink, a counter, outlet and table with miss-matched chairs didn't exactly say 'Nice Place' to him. Her shop was larger than this. So was the old HQ.

He decided he didn't want to think about it. Fishing a mug out from a crate of dishware sitting on the floor by the sink--a house warming present from the Dax himself; all items of which used to belong to the former Hip Hog--he set out to pouring the young woman a complementary cup of Joe. When finished, Jak turned around to find the mechanic had wandered over to his cot. One of her slender fingers traced the frayed hem of the blanket upon it.

"Here," he said, presenting her with the cup. Once she had taken it, a hesitant and careful motion--wouldn't want to touch that skin of his now--the young man turned and sat at the table, waiting for her to join him. She did soon enough, sitting across from him, eyes enveloped in the darkness inside her mug.

"None for you?" Keira asked, coffee being raised slightly to show she meant the drink. He shook his head.

"Never liked the taste."

His childhood friend let out another half-hearted chuckle at his answer. "Of course not. You've always had such a sweet tooth." Again, the elf shrugged, not knowing if he could quite agree with her on that or not. Jak hadn't had anything sweet in a long time.

Silence, awkward and heavy, filled the next couple minutes. Jak looked past the girl, a little over her head, avoiding her eyes. It was a habit he had picked up after being reintroduced to the mechanic after the rift. She never seemed to notice, or perhaps she didn't care, as long as she didn't have to return any more of his gazes than absolutely necessary.

"How…how's your eye?" the woman finally asked after a long sip from the mug.

"It wont be black for much longer," he replied without missing a beat. "I've had worse." Keira nodded, a sad glint in the eyes that still refused to even shift in his general direction. No wait, there they went, followed by the usual hard swallow. How many times had he wondered if it was vomit she was choking back down?

"I'm sorry," Keira whispered.

"It's not that big of a deal," he said, dismissing her guilt with a brief wave of his hand. "It was a wild night. Don't worry about it." It was strange how even he could force his voice to be. He surely didn't feel that unfazed on the inside. His eyes shifted quickly to the door leading to the joint bathroom he shared with the next apartment over. "That's all you came here to say, right? We done?"

"Yes--wait, no," Keira stuttered. A look of surprise slipped onto the blonde's face at her reply, but it didn't last long. He quickly covered it back up with the emotionless mask he had adorned since before her arrival. Still, the hero found it hard to believe the mechanic would actually want to stay longer than what was expected of her. "Can't we just…I don't know, just talk about things?" she continued, apparently having missed his slip-up. "You know, like we used to."

Jak shifted his weight onto his elbows, leaning forward slightly in his chair. "Like what things?" he pushed.

"I don't know," the young woman admitted. "Anything. How have you been?"

"Bored," Jak admitted easily.

"And?" Looks like she was going to push back.

Jak let out a small sigh. "It's been long time since I've just had…down time. Time to…"

A slender eyebrow rose slightly. "To…?"

"To think," he finished, albeit reluctantly. "To do nothing if I wanted to."

"See? That wasn't all that hard." Keira broke a small, amused smile, one the hero found hard to believe in with her eyes still tracing lines in the woodwork. "It's so nice talking to you again, you know that?"

"We've never really talked before," Jak replied bitterly.

"Don't be that way," the young woman spat back. Whatever anger she was feeling was quickly suppressed however and the half-smile returned. "It's your turn anyways. Ask me something."

This caused Jak to hesitate. Even with over a year and a half of verbal conversations on an almost daily basis under his belt, he was far from comfortable starting one of his own that didn't have a set objective. It wasn't like he was told to pump Samos' daughter for information.

That, however, did give him an idea.

"Anything?" he asked finally, drumming his knuckles on the tabletop. The woman nodded. "Okay then…" A long pause followed in which the teen searched for the best way to phrase what he wanted to convey. Absently, the thought crossed his mind about how much easier this would be back in the days when a single look could express to the girl what was on his mind. Finally, he settled on a wording and, in a hushed tone, asked, "Why are you afraid of me?"

That caused her to look up.

"Jak, I'm not--"

"Are you sure?" the man asked, leaning forward ever so slightly. "It's not that hard to be."

"I could never be…afraid of you," Keira choked out, trying to make it sound like it was the most absurd thing she'd ever heard. Her face, on the other hand, told him a different story. Did she really believe he couldn't read her? How naïve.

"I'm not stupid, Keira," came the nearly harsh reply. "And I'm not blind." It was obvious from her still blank face that he needed to explain. "You won't look at me, you won't touch me, you wont even be in the same room with me longer than a couple minutes."

"Then what's this right now?" she challenged.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," he replied plainly, meeting her challenge head on. "You actually asking to come over and staying like this is confusing the hell out of me. It completely goes against this whole 'No Contact' policy you've seemed to have decided for the both of us."

Keira shifted, most likely feeling the walls close in. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Why can't you just admit you're afraid of me?" he snapped.

"Because I'm not!"

"Why did you punch me yesterday?"

The mechanic tried to look appalled he would bring that up. "That has nothing to do with this, and you know it! I was drunk and it…"

Jak's face had become stone. "That's a load of yakkow shit, Keira, and you know it. And you are afraid of me; I can see that you are right now." He made a point to stare right into her eyes. "All I'm asking is why. And if you don't tell me, I'm going to have to assume."

Again the girl shifted, arms wrapping around herself as if in protection. He watched, silent, as she attempted to make herself smaller in her chair.

He had found her out, alright.

"You're different," she admitted quietly. There was a pause as he waited for her to go on. Letting out a sigh, Keira seemed to realize that she needed to too. "It's…hard adjusting. And it's…yes, it's kind of frightening the difference." Jak nodded, expression frozen but heart dropping as a few of his own fears were finally rationalized. "I'm trying to, though," she continued. "Adjust, I mean." Obviously, she meant her visit tonight. "I…missed you, Jak. I…still miss you."

Again, silence. Keira took small, shallow swallows of air as her fingers dug into her bare arms and eyes bore into her lap. By now Jak had covered his own blue orbs with one of his large, ragged hands. After what seemed like eternity, the hand removed itself and the blonde looked up, gaze piercing into his guest's downcast eyelids.

"I think we're done," the man said coldly. Getting up, he walked past the other side of the table, the kitchen area and his cot over to the door. Without another word he simply opened it. Keira, being a smart woman when she wanted to be, got the hint and, silent herself, rose as well and made to leave. As she passed him at the threshold, he said in a quiet, surprisingly calm voice, "My eye will be fine." This caused the woman to pause, but then she simply nodded and continued out the door.

Jak closed the door behind his guest and returned to the table, ready to spend another night staring at it and thinking. First, however, he shut his communicator off.