Rated: T for minor swearing, odd situations, etc.
A/N: Sorry for the major cliffhanger. They'll probably get worse as the chapters progress, though, so brace yourselves. XD this chapter was hard to write after the dream Jak had. EXTREMELY hard. but after i knew what i was doing i finally figured it out. XD this chapter seemed to have a hard time finding a place to stop... also, sorry for slower updates. i'll try to get some chapters written beforehand. I also have PSSA (Pennsylvania ...something something Assessments o.o) testing for two whole weeks. shdsjkfhsla'jkas D: by the way, as you read you'll know why you need to know this: Jak only killed Erol once. the first time Erol 'died' was his fault. enjoy~
P.S. if you ever wonder why I name a certain chapter a certain title, please ask if you can't figure it out. :3
*Flight attendant voice* Jak and Daxter are owned by Naughty Dog and them only. Please pack your lawsuits in your suitcase and go ask for some one else's character elsewhere.
thoughts/dreams/emphasis
Chapter 7
Daxter squinted and laid a paw above his eyes to block out some sand in the air. Torn's hellcat was driving towards him and his unconscious friend. Knowing Jak would be in good hands now, the ottsel relaxed. He padded over to Jak, checking to see how he was. The hero's eyes were still shut, purple bags under them. His breath was shallow, but he was breathing, nonetheless. Remembering the thing that caused all this, he searched for the artifact.
The object was laying half buried in the sand, moonlight glinting off of it. The furry rodent snatched it up. It didn't burn. The black smoke that swirled lazily in the middle before wasn't there anymore.
The hellcat was lowered to the ground a few yards away from the duo. Torn left it on, hopping out. When the commander saw Jak laying in the sand, he ran over immediately.
"What happened?" he asked. There wasn't much concern in his voice, though. It was a business-like tone, and Daxter frowned at that. The ottsel took a big breath and prepared to talk at light speed, anxious to help his friend out.
"Okay, so, me and Jak just got to the Wastelands and Jak was twitchin' real bad, y'know, overdose and all, and we had to wait until nighttime in case any peeps or creatures decided to pay us a visit in the day 'cause Jak here hates people seein' him in Dark mode and so it was finally nighttime and Jak got to work and so that explains all the split rocks and lizard skeletons layin' on the ground, but anyways-" Big inhale. "-Suddenly, Jak just stopped and took out the artifact that we've been havin' trouble finding out what it does and this HUGE Dark Eco explosion comes outta nowhere and after a few seconds it stops and Jak collapses on the ground and he didn't hear me worryin' over him and now he's passed out!"
Torn blinked, taking it all in. After a moment, he nodded. "I guess there isn't much I can do for him except get him home. Get in the cruiser, rat," he ordered, walking over to Jak and kneeling down, hefting him up, bridal style. Daxter padded over to the hellcat and hopped in the turret seat, letting the shotgun seat be used by Jak, not bothering to make any remarks about the 'rat' nickname. The ex-KG set the out-cold man in comfortably, then hopped into the driver's seat. Instantly, he raised the cruiser off the ground and flew off. Billions of gleaming stars enveloped them as they drove through the Wastelands.
Torn laid Jak on his bed. Daxter was surprised by the commander's expertise in caring for people in an unhealthy state. He did do it often, though, considering he was the Freedom League commander. Glad I called'em for Jak's sake, the ottsel thought as he set aside the dark artifact near his unconscious best friend. Torn slipped Jak's combat boots, goggles, and red scarf off, setting them on the floor. He didn't bother with anything else.
"There, he's fine now," the tattooed man said. He was going to leave, but Daxter squeaked. He looked down at him. "What?"
"I'm, well, y'know, ottsel sized and all..."
"And?"
"Can you, uh...stay here?" Torn gave him a look. "For Jak's sake, of course!" Daxter added quickly. "What help would I be to'em two feet tall?" It was a painful truth he had to face long ago that he was too small to do much. Torn sighed, then nodded. The ottsel perked his ears in gratefulness, glad that he didn't have to worry as bad for his best friend.
The commander pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down, keeping guard. Daxter jumped onto the bed and crawled onto Jak's stomach. Despite the blonde youth's muscles, he seemed much comfier than a plain old bed. The ottsel developed sleeping habits of an animal, curling up in a ball, wrapping his tail around his body to provide a blanket. His best friend supplied most of the warmth, though. He's always so warm, the Precursor thought, before dozing off into a deep sleep.
Laughter. Sick, humorless laughter directed at him. Mocking him because he was weak, because he was hopeless, because he was defenseless, because he refused to break completely. He was stupid to not break. He should've been broken long ago, save him all this trouble. But no, his best friend would save him. He said he'd save him, and he believed him. That's why he couldn't break no matter what the laughing man does to him.
Dark Eco surrounded the two beings. Jak was young, so innocent. Not the renegade, but the adventurous teen from Sandover. He seemed to being floating in mid air, the Dark Eco like a vacuum around him, giving off a dark atmosphere. The mocking being in front of him seemed to be standing on nothing, a scalpel gripped in his right hand.
Those gold eyes. Blazing, orange hair. Devilish grin. Krimzon Guard tattoos. The image haunted him. It would haunt him forever.
An all-too-familiar pain erupted in his stomach and radiated throughout his whole body like an electrical shock. Dark Eco injections. There was no table to lie on, just air, but he felt unable to move, trapped. The sick laughter rung in his ears as he was tortured mercilessly. It's what turned him into this dark eco freak everyone said he was. Everyone was right about him. He's just a monster.
The laughter made him wish he was deaf, the mere sight of the man made him wish he were blind, the pain and the nauseating things he did to him made him want to loose all sense of touch. The loneliness of it all made him wish he were dead.
Then, it stopped. Everything disappeared. No madman, no Dark Eco, no pain. Just, nothing. What was happening around him? Was he actually dead?
"You will carry my burden, Dark One," a voice whispered. The same voice he heard when he was on the verge of passing out from exhaustion.
What did 'carry my burden' mean? The blonde could only guess. A scream from a familiar voice rang all around him, blackness pulling every direction on Jak, seeming to play 'Tug of War' on his body. The pain brought him back to his senses.
Daxter awoke to low rumbling against his ears. Wondering what dare wake him up at this hour, he lifted his head. His vision was clouded by drowsiness, so he didn't bother waiting for the darkness to adjust in his sight. The rumbling was actually his best friend growling in his sleep. He would've said, "Aw, how cute," out loud if it wasn't for the tone of it. Another nightmare, the ottsel sighed mentally. He stretched and yawned, getting up. Daxter staggered over his friend's stomach to his chest, then crouched down, slapping the growling teenager very lightly with one paw.
Did Jak always have orange hair?
"Hey, buddy, wake up," Daxter whispered, only somewhat careful not to wake the commander. When Jak showed no signs of waking up, he dropped all concern for Torn's sleep. He's used to no sleep, anyways. Inhale.
"JAAAK!" The ottsel yelled into his long ears, then found himself flung across the room, landing on the floor with a thud. Daxter groaned in pain, the fall adding to the ache that was already in his back. His best friend always seemed to forget he used the blonde as a bed, tossing a turning in the middle of the night, flinging his body this way and that.
"Jak," Daxter croaked. "Buddy, I love ya, but you have way too many-" The fuzzy rodent stopped in mid-sentence. The words caught in his throat as his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and focused on two terrified, white and gold orbs.
Then, he noticed the other changes. Facial tattoos, crazy, orange hair, square jaw, slim body. The only things that were familiar was the blue tunic and tan pants, but they hung loose on the dangerously familiar man's body. Torn wasn't around. Daxter dared to look back in his golden eyes. Why is Erol here? Where's Jak? Where's Torn when you need'em!
Surprisingly, Erol's horrified expression softened into a relieved one, heaving a sigh. "Just another nightmare," he mumbled calmly. Daxter had never heard this tone from the deceased commander, it was Jak's tone with him. Wait, the confused animal thought. Deceased! He's dead! How is he all human again? How did he get here? Why is he acting like nothing is going on? Where's Jak! Hundreds of questions raced through the stressed Precursor's mind. He kept his eyes locked on the slim man's.
Seeming confused, Erol tilted his head to the side. Jak always did that when he was confused or found something cute or amusing. Or both. Erol's impersonating Jak! Who does he think he is? Daxter thought, anger building up. "Daxter?" The man asked, sitting up. His eyes were drooped from exhaustion. The tone Jak always used with his friend when he was concerned. "Did I scare you?"
He's finding this amusing!
He couldn't hold it back anymore. "Shuddup you Jak impersonator! I don't know how you came back from the dead again, but I'm pretty sure my buddy won't have trouble killin' ya twice!" The only response he got was a blink. There was silence for a few moments.
"What are you-" a gun cocking and the light turning on made both of them snap their heads in the sound's direction. Torn had found Erol sleeping in Jak's bed when he woke up and had retrieved his gun. The tattooed man was pointing an eco pistol at the other man's chest, right at the heart. One shot and he would be dead.
"You sure took your sweet time gettin' your ass in here!" Daxter cried, getting up.
"Don't move," the ex-KG hissed at the orange-haired man, ignoring the ottsel. The man looked at Torn, then Daxter, back at Torn, then Daxter again. He did what both weren't expecting at all; laughed.
"Good prank, guys. You almost had me there for a minute," Erol said, smirking off the laughter. He was too tired to laugh. Torn and Daxter stared at him in disbelief.
"Hey, walkin' dead, this ain't no prank, if you didn't catch the memo!" The ottsel exclaimed. Then, he turned to Torn. "Blow'em to smitherines!" The commander wouldn't usually-more like ever-take orders from a talking rat, but he wanted to shoot the man anyway. He lifted the gun to between Erol's eyes. The man's hands shot up in defense, now anxious. His expression was covered with betrayal and anger.
"Wait, guys! What the hell! Don't you remember me? Jak?" Now everyone in the room was confused.
When he had awoken, he found Daxter on the floor, looking terrified at him. He felt bad for flinging him across the room from waking up from his nightmare. When he had asked if he scared him, he seemed to sound different to himself, and he didn't remember getting home safely, only a flash of purples and blacks. He put it aside, though, figuring it was just from waking up after a graphic nightmare.
Now, Daxter was glaring at Jak like he was the enemy. Torn was pointing a gun at his chest. He thought this was all real, when suddenly it dawned on him; these two are his best friends. Well, at least Daxter. The blonde talked much with Torn, so that meant something.
This was obviously a prank. So, he busted out laughing. The sudden outburst made him lose a lot of his energy, so the man's laughter faded into a smirk. "Good prank, guys. You almost had me there for a minute." Except, he didn't get the reactions of being caught by his two friends, as he was expecting. They stared at him, not saying anything. It made Jak feel uneasy.
"Hey, walkin' dead, this ain't no prank, if you didn't catch the memo!" Daxter retorted. He only uses that tone with our enemies, Jak thought. Why is he using it on me? Suddenly, the ottsel turned to Torn and said something the green-blonde thought he would never command someone to do to him. "Blow'em to smitherines!"
The Freedom League commander lifted the gun's aim to his face, right between the eyes. Jak shot his hands up in reflex, feeling horribly betrayed and confused. "Wait, guys!" The teen yelled louder than he intended. "What the hell! Don't you remember me? Jak?"
Silence enveloped the room once more. All three pairs of eyes exchanged looks at one another. The young hero could see Daxter was debating with himself intensely, but Torn didn't reveal anything in his expression. It was just cold and hard. Jak was extremely confused. Didn't they remember him? Didn't he look the same? What happened while he was out? Daring to find out if he looked the same or not, he hesitatingly looked down.
His blue tunic and tan pants were immensely loose on his body. After thinking about it, he did feel much slimmer than before. Jak was only dimly aware of his friends watching him closely as he inspected his hands and flexed them to see how it felt. It felt different. They looked different. Thinner fingers, different lines indented in his palms. His finger bones stuck out slightly when he flexed them, and so did he knuckles. These are not my hands, he concluded.
Jak didn't dare search for a mirror to see who he really was. He had an idea, because he knew these hands and body build all too well. Still, he didn't want to confirm it.
Looking for an explanation, he turned his attention back to Torn and Daxter. Although he could tell they weren't entirely sure anymore, the ex-KG still aimed the gun at his face, and the ottsel held hostility. "If you're Jak," the Precusor said, "prove it." The commander still said nothing.
Prove it, the young hero replayed in his head. A perfect way to prove it would be telling him Sandover stories only the duo would know about. His dark or light sides didn't say anything, so he thought they didn't think it was a bad idea. Jak nodded to himself in approval of the idea. He locked eyes with Daxter. "Remember when we were six? We ran into a stray lurker and hid in a ditch until it left." The young man smiled from the frightening, but adventurous memory. The ottsel beamed.
"Yeah! We were as shaken up as wumpbees in a tornado."
"Oh, and the wumpbees. On my ninth birthday, we ran like hell after I got curious with their nest."
"Oh, man! I think it took Ol' Greenie to get over that one for a couple weeks." They both chuckled a bit from the silly memory. To make sure his orange, fuzzy friend was sure it was him, he continued.
"When we were twelve, we got into the Sculptor's painting tools and got covered in paint."
Daxter busted out laughing, laying a hand over his furry, yellow chest. "We were walkin' rainbows, man!" Both laughed. Torn was having an incredibly tough time holding back his own laughter from the image. The duo were such stupid, ignorant little brats back then, and they had the greatest times.
Realization dawned on the small rodent, and his laughter faded. So did Jak's. He really is Jak, Daxter thought. He looked into the golden eyes of Erol's, knowing Jak was behind them. He could tell not just by the memories, but the posture, the tone in his voice, the expression in his eyes.
"Jak," Daxter whispered. That was the quietest tone Torn had ever hear the rat use. It really is Jak, the commander thought, lowering his gun slowly. "Jak, what the hell happened to ya?" The ottsel screeched unexpectedly, making both Jak and Torn cover their ears.
"What? What happened to me?" the hero asked, looking at them both for answers. He really, really didn't want to figure it out. Torn seemed to understand. The ex-KG shook his head.
"Look in the mirror. You're not going to like it," he said in a raspy, low voice. Daxter laid his ears down, fearing Jak's reaction. Knowing he'd have to sooner or later, the hero trudged out of the room to the bathroom, where the mirror was. Daxter and Torn stayed where they were. They knew his temper and how he deals with things he doesn't know how to deal with. Anger.
Jak walked in, head down. He delayed it as much as possible, but didn't know why. When he reached the sink, knowing there was a mirror on the wall in front of it, he looked up. No matter how much he was expecting it, he was truly in shock.
Erol was in front of him, staring into him. Gold eyes. Those gold eyes. They always haunted Jak. The images would haunt him to his grave.
It wasn't until he felt immense stinging in his bloody knuckles and the shattering of glass that he realized he punched the mirror with all his strength. Erol wasn't there anymore. Just a blank, empty wall. The heir of Mar was safe form the image, for now. Knowing this, he sunk to the floor, not caring if he got glass in his legs. He didn't cry, didn't think much, just stared at nothing. How could he cry? How could he think? He was numb all over. Jak felt exactly like he had the day he met the orange-haired man.
The ottsel and commander cringed when they heard the mirror shatter. They didn't hear anything else, though, which surprised them. Both knew Jak hated Erol, especially Daxter. They were expecting he'd beat himself up, or tear up pillows, or bring the house down, literally. Not just this. Actually, it worried the ottsel he wasn't taking out his anger and hatred. Did the crazy, deceased man do more than just force his best friend into the Dark Eco treatments? He shuddered at the thought.
Daxter wouldn't dare ask him anything about it, because if the once-blonde wanted to tell him, he would. Torn can go suck Metal Head eggs, because this was only for him to deal with. Any moral support the ex-KG could offer was a smirk. Or a pat on the back, at most.
Torn shifted, capturing the ottsel from his trail of thoughts. He slid the eco pistol in his gun holder and left, turning off the light switch before we went, not saying anything. There were no words needed to be said. Daxter laid his ears down once more, knowing he would be alone, despite Jak being in the bathroom. He could try to cheer him up or reassure him with his famous jokes, but it's too early.
At that thought, he yawned and climbed back into bed. After a few minutes of tossing and turning, he gave up. The ottsel couldn't sleep without his best friend. The darkness seemed..dark, without him around, no matter what mood. Daxter sighed in defeat, hopping out of the bed once more. He padded over to the bathroom doorway and peeked inside.
The sight wasn't as bad as he expected it to be, really. Jak was just staring at the glass-covered floor, bloody hands hugging his knees. Careful not to injure his feet, Daxter avoided the glass shards carefully. Then, he jumped into the changed man's lap. His best friend was just as warm and comfortable to lay on as before, which he was glad about. The small creature curled up into a ball on his lap and shut his eyes.
A soft, warm hand touched Daxter's back affectionately. It was slick and sticky from the blood, but it was soft and warm, nonetheless. Loving. He dozed off into a dreamless sleep.
And...this is were the angst begins. XD I would try to avoid it, but with a situation like this, it's completely unavoidable. I'll try to keep it to a minimum...unless you guys like this stuff like I do. o3o Reviews are love and inspiration. 3
