Author's note: Thanks for all the reviews, and especially thanks to Neoecco who betaed this chapter :)
Uhm, yeah… I realize that the switches between point of views can be irritating, but please bear with me – they will be consistent, that I promise. I'm doing them as a test, because I've written so many stories in a "normal" style that I'm getting a little bored with it and want to try something different.

Chapter 3, Partnership

Begin Introspection. Serial code: Daxter.

Heey! It's everyone's favorite cuddly, funny little ottsel! Did'ya miss me? Know you did.

If you wanna know anything about moron-safe flirting, comedy acts, sweet lovin' and Jak, you've come to the right place.

… I just said "sweet lovin'" and "Jak" in the same breath, didn't I? Oops.

Well, it just can't be helped. I always seem to get back to that subject no matter what I'm entertaining people about. My life is based on the guy, in case you've failed to notice. Especially my continued life.

No thanks to his kamikaze tendencies, of course. I used to think that his hobby of using lurkers as punching bags was bad, but now?

"Metal heads? How many, three hundred? Really? Wohoo, let's go!"

Okay, so he wouldn't be caught dead in a mousetrap saying that, but it's the general idea. Whenever those ears perk up like wumpbee antennas at the smell of honey, you know there's trouble.

… please don't tell him I just drew a parallel between him and wumpbees. He'll flip. Trust me, he'll flip. Hard. Only way to make him flip harder would be to tell him something like "Y'know, sometimes when you grin like that it makes me think of Baron Praxis."

And now I'm starting to scare myself, so we'll stop right there.

Ahem.

Sooo, anyway. I'm the second half of the Demolition Duo DeLuxe, and you better believe me when I say that Jak wouldn't last a second without me. 'Cause he couldn't.

… okay, so he could. But no longer than that. Happy now?

The point is, there's a duo right there. Yep, duo. Not just Jak, there're two of us, baby! He brings the guns and action, and I take care of the little things. Like observations. And Jak. Not that he's a "little" thing.

And yet people don't think too much of me for some reason. Take Torn for example. He just loooves to call me a rat, wimp, dog food, whatever. Pff. Like he's got any bragging rights. Can he make Jak squirm? Didn't think so. Too bad I can't tell him that, because Jak would chop up my tail if I ever let this one slip. Oh well… it's mine and my blonde's little secret.

Not that I, uhm… like it that much. But you just can't help but grin at it, y'know?

End Introspection.

"Ow!"

"Sheez! Good thing I found this one before it locked up… hepp!"

"Muscles don't do tha- rrgh!"

"What are you, man or pansy? If anyone heard you complain so much because of some tense nerves they'd toss ya off a cliff."

Daxter underlined his point by digging his heel into Jak's back and rolling it over the offending muscle knot. The victim of the treatment bit the pillow to keep from giving the smirking ottsel the tease-fodder of another groan, thinking that "massage" was just another word for "friendly torture".

"This thing's the size of mossman's eyeballs. With the glasses on, that is," Daxter informed.

He continued to work on the lump with his heel, using just a little less force this time.

"Mmrgh," Jak eloquently replied, still with the cloth between his teeth.

"Why don't you get this fixed more often, hotshot?"

"Mechu ong a chachu."

Daxter crossed his arms and looked down at the blond-green spikes pointing at him. After a moment he reached out and pulled one of the long ears.

"What?" he said.

Using his tongue Jak pushed the pillow cloth out of his mouth, but it was with a slight reservation that he dared to let go. He turned his head and looked at the ottsel from the corner of his eye, suspiciously.

"I said 'because you're a sadist'," he said.

This earned him a scoff from Daxter.

"I am not!" the little guy proclaimed.

"Sure you ain't- ow! Goddammit!"

"Hey, here's another one!"

Jak nearly chewed through the pillow as the small feet marched across his bare back in the search for more tense nerves.

"You could use some of these for bullets, I tell ya," Daxter said while strutting about, "either you need to cut down on the tension or we're gonna have to do this more often."

Jak's eyes rolled at the mere thought of the second option.

"No way in hell…" he growled, burying his face in the slightly moist lump of cloth and feathers.

Soft knees landed on either side of his spine, and a second later a pair of small hands pushed down on his neck, the claws safely pulled in. A deep intake of air slowly caused Daxter's perch to raise and fall, and he grinned to himself as he began kneading the area before him.

"Thaaat's it, babe. Nice and soft."

After a while Jak turned his head and let his cheek press against the pillow instead, eyes closed as his breathing grew more steady and the shoulders began to sag from their tense posture.

"Ya know, if it became known that you're such a weakling we'd all be doomed. Imagine any nutjob just sneaking up from behind and poking at the right place-"

He suddenly paused and Jak immediately tensed, expecting just that kind of jab into a sore spot. But when Daxter cackled, the blonde knew that he had fallen for a false alarm. Shooting a dirty look in the ottsel's general direction, Jak moved his hands to rest beneath his cheek to collect himself.

"… and that'd be the end of it," Daxter continued, poking the neck with one fingertip, "no wonder you need me to watch your back, eh? Though as far as I remember this wasn't in the job description."

"You are watching my back," Jak muttered.

"Yeah, yeah… smartass."

"Mmf."

Smirking, Daxter returned to the neck rub.

"I tell you, it wouldn't hurt so freakin' much if you didn't let these buggers get so freakin' big before you freakin' ask me to deal with 'em. Sure it's macho and all to fight the system, but think about me! It's a pain to sort them out, and your complaining ain't helping."

Jak just mumbled something inaudible somewhere in the middle and at the end of the yapping. A soft warmth spread across his back and arms from the area that Daxter worked on. This would be the "heaven" part.

But just as he was about to drift off, the small hands disappeared and the weight on his back centralized on the two small places where Daxter's feet were positioned. Sighing, Jak took the pillow between his teeth again.

"Ready?" came from above.

"Mmf."

Jak pinched his eyes tightly shut, chewing the cloth as the small heel came down straight on the first big lump again. It did not hurt quite as much as before since he had managed to relax, but it was still uncomfortable. Hello, hell.

Okay, so this really was pathetic for a guy like him. It was not like he hadn't endured hours and hours of things that made this stuff seem like a trip to the café. But the bolts of pain from where the tense nerves were kneaded and crushed were only a fraction of it, and an excuse.

Pain made him tense. Pain made the anger stir. And pain shot a searing instinct straight into his backbone that he needed to stifle.

This is Daxter, just Daxter trying to help, don't fight back, it hurts but don't fight back.

Biting the pillow helped him stay calm and continue allowing Daxter to be the stronger one until the massage was finished. It was a stretch, it would always be a stretch, and getting to the current point had taken a lot of time and psyching for Jak to agree to.

And letting anybody else do what Daxter now did was something that the blonde could not even begin to consider. Not even Keira. Only those two small hands – and feet – could he deal with, secretly wondering what it would feel like if they had not been quite so small and fuzzy. As long as they were the same hands.

Jak grunted when the pressure increased again, relaxing only slightly as the pain slowly began to ease up. It was buckling now, as the tense nerves bit by bit melted beneath Daxter's insistent kneading. At least… this lump was. There were others.

Another groan had to be stopped.

Standing on his friend's back Daxter looked down, studying the skin his heel pressed against. A thin scar went straight across the impact area – too thin and straight to be the work of a metal head's claws.

Fuzzy ears drooped.

He really knew nothing about what Jak had lived through. Jak spoke with nobody about Praxis' prison.

Nobody.

Not that he could not imagine – anyone who even got a glimpse of Jak's scars could. Only half of them could have been gained from battle. A few were of questionable origin and could with some goodwill be credited to daggers or claws merely scratching the skin, but… too many were still obviously created with surgical expertise. And all the tiny pricks from needles, too... all over, even on his neck.

But Daxter tried not to imagine, because it was just too horrible. Just seeing all the lighter lightning bolts and dots marking Jak's skin, and knowing that if he had just been quicker, there would have been fewer. Even if it was just one or two fewer…

Even the smallest mental image could make his fuzzy little body shudder and made him want to cower, hiding from the thundering guilt with his arms over his head. In an egoistical way he was glad that Jak never even gave a broad idea of anything that had happened, because the mere thought of hearing the details made Daxter's stomach churn.

But at the same time, he knew that he would listen to every last word if the pain ever got the better of Jak. That pain that was so excruciatingly obvious in those blue eyes sometimes.

The bump beneath the skin was getting smaller by the minute. He sat down on his knees again, exchanging the heel for his hands despite the stinging feeling creeping up the bony arms. He clenched his teeth and continued to rub.

Jak moved again, and Daxter threw a glance upwards. That made it worth any pain his tired arms could throw at him.

Heavy eyelids hung over the blue irises as the blonde returned to the position with his cheek against the pillow, and the knitted eyebrows had moved up to a far more relaxed position, taking the constant scowl away with them. Even if there was no smile on the lips, a hint of it hung over the tranquil face.

Daxter let out a silent sigh of relief as he watched Jak's dreamy look. Much, much better… he winced, unwillingly.

Eyebrows knitting in discomfort, dirty fingertips fumbling and pressing down on shirt stretched across skin.

"Oi! You got an aching shoulder there, buddy? Want me to rub it for ya?"

Blinking eyes, twitching eyebrows. Head shake, small movement but a little too forceful. Rustling cloth, standing up and leaving.

The one left behind is surprised.

Frown, realization.

Suspicion. Always the suspicion.

He doesn't want to be touched.

A knock on the door jostled both of them out of their thoughts – or well, Jak out of his sweet oblivion. With an irritated groan he heaved himself up, Daxter slipping onto the floor.

"Whazzit?" Jak called, setting himself cross-legged on the mat.

He looked straight ahead, watching the door open from across the dusky main room. Sunlight spilled inside and lit up the simple table and the two chairs; there was not much else to see in there – which the sunlight probably appreciated since it had to make it past the tall, bulky figure blocking most of the doorway.

"Yo, cherries. Mornin'."

No mistaking that one. Jak smiled slightly, raising a hand in greeting.

"Mornin', Sig."

He yawned and the hand moved to scratch his bare chest instead. This turned out to be a bad idea as a popping sound came from his still un-cared-for shoulder, and he winced. Sig squinted at what his working eye made out as dusk, while the two people more used to the dim illumination had no problem whatsoever to see every last detail.

Especially scars. Daxter grimaced.

Sig debated asking if Jak was okay, but reached the conclusion that the answer would just be a yes. Even if golden boy was bleeding to death. The thought made the big man grin slightly with friendly pride.

Instead of asking about health, Sig settled for the original question he had in mind.

"You boys up for some action? Kleiver said his men saw something big moving in the ruins and wants somebody to check on it."

Jak smirked at Daxter's immediate "Nooo…" and completely disregarded the protest in favor of a nod.

"Yeah, sure…"

He tried rotating both his shoulders, getting another pop with a bonus cold flare for no extra charge.

Ow.

"Just give us twenty," he said, keeping the sigh out of his voice.

Sig gave a small mock salute, hefting the Peace Maker over his shoulder.

"I'll go prepare the Sand Shark. Don't chicken out on me."

At that, Jak just gave a dry chuckle. Grinning, Sig closed the door, increasing the dusk radically. The demolition duo heard his boots slamming against the stone stair as he left, listening in silence for a few moments.

Finally Jak stretched and laid down again, resting his forehead on his lower arms.

"Okay," he muttered.

With a slight cackle Daxter hopped back onto his pal and headed for the next victim.

"Ready or not, here we go!" he cheerfully said.

"You enjoy this far too- ow! Son of a-!"

The pillow was having a rough morning. But even that got to rest as Jak's tension gradually dissolved beneath Daxter's stubborn hands.

Kind, soft hands.

Begin Introspection. Serial code: Daxter.

I hate horror stories, 'cause I just can't shake them off afterwards. Yeah, yeah, go ahead and call me wimpy. Didn't y'all know I'm of the careful kind? Yup, that's right. I get enough action, gore and terror in my everyday life with Jak, thankyouverymuch.

Sooo my point is, I'm really not hot on hearing a real life horror story. But it's not just that I'm anxious of having to listen to Jak talking about what they did to him, not just that I won't be able to forget. It's… it's because I could've prevented some of it, a lot of it, if I had just been able to find him faster. Maybe even stopped Darkie from ever being born.

I don't… don't want to know how bad I failed.

The scariest thing really is not knowing, but the suspicions. Of course I can see the scars, and they tell me a lot more than I want to know. But there are those things I can't see, that nobody can… that Jak never will tell. Not when he's conscious, at least.

I know they beat him up, he looked like a freakin' patch doll of bruises when I first found him for chrissakes.

Mmf…

Yeah. Nasty stuff… ugh… I don't wanna think about it.

I don't wanna think about the rest either, 'cause… 'cause those bruises healed, of course, but I still remember them, a-and… and…

… and Jak never wants to talk about it and I totally respect that but there's a crapload of other stuff, y'know, stuff that doesn't show but never heals and Erol always said these really weird things and I'll never know if anything happened and how bad Jak hurts and what he hides but there's that bloody suspicion that it's much, much worse and I ran away, watching them drag him off- rargh!

Okay, I'm calm, I'm calm. Damn, that crap makes my blood pressure rise, hehe… heh.

Sigh.

I don't wanna think about it. But… I just ran away, and left him there. Let them take him to do precursors knows what. S-so I had to find him. Had to find him, and that was the only thing that kept me alive during those two years of hell. Don't call me an animal, peeps, I know how it's like to live as one. And they don't treat animals any better than people in Haven. Almost got made into a fur hat at least seven times. Ugh.

… yeah, trying to change the subject. Sorry.

I got a thousand leads that led nowhere, I tell you. And getting into the prison was no cakewalk either, no siree. Especially since I had almost given up at that point…

Ugh.

So I fo-found him. B-but it wasn't enough, 'cause they had hurt him so bad that he wasn't Jak anymore and I was so sure that he'd kill me when he flipped and Dark Jak came out for the first time bu-but then… then…

I… I never want to hear him talk like that again. Not the way he said my name when he snapped back to reality.

Now we'd spent our entire childhood together and of course I teased him and tried to coax him into talking to the point where he'd shove me into the grass and have me eat mud just to shut me up. I really thought it would rock if the first thing he ever said was my name. Think I told him that a few times, kinda… said that since I always put up with his cheating in wrestling and crazy zoomer driving he owed me that.

But I really, really wanted him to smile when he said it. Not like he did back there beside that torture device, stumbling backwards and staring at me like that. Not sounding as if he was about to break. Not in that place.

I-I don't really think that Praxis' death sentence was the first thing he ever said, but I don't know. He won't talk about that either. For all I know his first words could've been a plea for mercy.

So I… really screwed up. Well, it's not like I could've done anything when they grabbed him off the street – "Oh shit, it's an orange rat! Everyone retreat!". Yeah, imagine Erol saying that. Wish it sounded funnier to me.

But anyway, I just can't stop thinking that I could've found him faster, before they messed him up.

B-but I didn't. I couldn't. So… so I promised myself, and him, even though I never told him, that I'd make it okay again. I'd stick around and make sure he was okay no matter what happened, even if he went completely psycho and turned into that monster a hundred times over, I'd still be there.

And it was worth it, 'cause even though I was scared outta my mind at first, throwing stupid gags like "breaking stuff's fun, right!" at him while he was kicking guards in the face and sneaking up from behind to twist their necks… even though he never changed from "manic mode" until we got outside, even though he chewed out an old man with a kid (and about that, holy crap!) and turned into a monster again to beat up a dozen guards – then, then it got better. When he had walked away from Kor and the midget, and suddenly just stopped and looked like he was about to fall over… had to tell him to go lean on a wall, and he just did what I said like he couldn't do anything on his own. Guess the adrenaline had run out on him.

I got worried that he'd flip again of course, I just didn't know what to make of him right then. But he just stood there staring up at the sky above, ignoring all the odd looks he got from every other passerby. I… I guess he finally realized that he was free. For real.

No idea how long he stood there, and I didn't dare to say anything due to this really hot wish to not see tall, dark and gruesome again so soon, especially not since Jak said he couldn't control it.

Not cool.

He stood there for ages, it seemed, and then finally he just raised his hand and reached for the cloudy sky – through the smog, I might add – as if he wanted to make sure it was real. And when he did that, looking all spaced out, I just couldn't keep my yap shut any longer.

"Could be prettier, but hey, it works, right?"

That just got him looking at me, all blank. Like he hadn't noticed me before, and that was really damn creepy I tell you. Which only got me talking more, of course. What else could I do?

"Uh, uhm…"

Yeah, smooth talking! Don't gimme that look, I wasn't even sure if he heard me!

"It's gonna be okay now, Jak… okay?"

Now that jolted him back into focus, for some reason. He really jumped and gave me this odd look, but I forgot that in the next moment 'cause he smiled.

He finally smiled.

If I was a girl, I'd go all "Awwww!" just thinking about it.

"Dax…"

Yup. This time he said it like I had wanted it.

"… thanks."

And that made it all worthwhile. 'Cause, they hadn't managed to totally kill my Jak after all. So then it was my job to make sure he stayed alive, to make him smile even as things got darker and dirtier by the hour.

And no matter how many mad skills he got with his gun and Darkie, and no matter how many metal heads and Krimzon Klutzes came at us I'd still hang on to his shoulder and never let go.

So… I lied back there in the desert, when me an' Pecker-flap argued. I was the one who wanted to go and help Jak, and I would've gone with or without the birdbrain. 'Cause I need to stay with Jak and make sure he's okay.

I'm gonna make sure that nobody ever knocks him out and drags him off again, even if I hafta scratch somebody's eyes out to stop them. Nobody's ever gonna get another chance to hurt Jak like that if I can do anything about it. And sheez, okay, fine, I'd probably get squished in the process, but even that's better than doin' nothing. So bring it on, world! Bring all the sand, sun, metal heads, crazy zealots, politicians, morons and cyborgs, and I'll help him deal with 'em 'cause I'm never gonna let anybody take him away again.