Thank you, Moon. I'm not sure how my writing comes out as easy to read, it's just always been like that. Sorry about the intial confusion. It was meant to convey how hectic it seemed to Jak aswell. And you were inspirational without doing anything, because you gave me a review. I thought Cletus was going to be the only reviewer until I finished the story and let it sit for weeks.

Bringing Sig into it, seeing as he is a big part of the actual story, there will be other characters pulling the plot along, but Sig is a big decider in the scheme of things.

Sig as Jak mentally proclaimed uncle, I'm going with the idea that Spargus is pretty tight, I'm not saying he's blood or anything, just that Jak feels he's an unlce in the sense of looking out for him.

Disclaimers in earlier chapters.

Jak was right. He did feel better. Dark eco still burnt into his flesh as his body absorbed it, but the Light eco kind of evened it out.

If the vent hadn't opened in the middle of Spargus, he suspected he wouldn't have felt as evened out. It was a counterweight at best, but the light-well felt right.

The Arena was once again brimming with spectators, some hoping for a bloodbath, others hoping for their families to be alright. Jak was the only person that didn't have anyone actually watching out for him.

If he was mortally wounded in here, chances were he was dead, unless his father suddenly decided, 'Fuck it, my kid's somehow 18, instead of 6, but I'm not going to let him die yet.' and that was unlikely.

Jak stood at the podium, waiting surprisingly patiently for Pecker to end his long and elustrious introductory rant. Damas was obviously getting annoyed by the swings that landed a few feathers in his nostrils. Jak had been on the receiving side of that a few times in the last year.

He spared Damas a sympathetic look, without saying anything. Damas caught it. It was far too much like Mar for him to bear. He told Pecker to hurry it up, before he broke down with everyone's eyes on him.

Jak knows there's someone else out to attack him. But to date, he hadn't killed a single wastelander, not even one. When told it was to be death combat, he pointed out that would be thining their numbers, not the best idea...

He avoided hurting them as much as he could. The arena fighters made it slightly more difficult. He made sure to knock them out more than physically hurt them. Literaly, one hit when they physically tried to touch him, instinct more than thought.

He jumped as he saw a towering figure turn to face him, gun cocked. He knew that armour...

"Sig?" he asked surprised. The figure dropped the gun slightly.

"Jak? Daxter?" Sig replied just as surprised. He glanced the pair up and down. The fact they were here, didn't bode well for Jak. "Well, don't you two look sorrier than ever." he muttered to himself.

"What are you doing here?" Jak asked him confused. This was the arena... in a 'to the death' competition... oh no.

"Honing my skillls." Sig muttered darkly. "Let's finish this." He pulled the peace-maker up to eye level again. He didn't know why he hadn't shot yet.

"Whoa! Come on, Sig, I'm not gonna fight you!" Jak told him taking a step back and dropping his morph gun from a ready position. Jak stared him in the eyes. I won't. Not against a guy I think of as an uncle.

Sig flinched slightly at Jak's stare. "If we don't, he'll kill us both. The rule of the arena. Sorry, nothing personal..." he muttered, holding it at eye-level for a few moments, waiting for Jak to go for it. But somehow, it was personal.

He would never back away from an order made by Damas, or an arena rule. Jak knew that.

But he didn't know that there was something, only one thing, that would stop him from listening to Damas. Damas' son, that Jak looked so much like. That Jak could be... from what Sig had managed to gather from Samos' fragmented comments. Sig realised what he waiting for.

If he strikes me down, even in defence, he can't be Mar...

Jak stared down the barrel of Sig's peacemaker, not flinching in the slightest, despite the intent written on Sig's face. He didn't make a move to strike Sig. He just stared at him, asking him to stop without saying a word. Please...

Sig stared at Jak, waiting for the tension to snap one of their wills. Sig's snapped first. He stared at Jak's features only to see Mar, never expecting to see the boy at the business end of his peacemaker.

He dropped the peacemaker in disgust at himself. Jak felt the tension he didn't realise he was holding dissipate.

Damas shot out of his seat, both relieved and angered that these two had stopped fighting.

"Blasphemy! One must destroy the other! Complete the test or face worse pain!" he cried out authoritatively. Jak stood motionless, stubbornly refusing to attack his mentally-proclaimed uncle. Sig moaned quietly to himself. "Seize them!"

Damas stood in the throne room, with a number of citizens crowding around the elevator and a few, mostly holding Jak, guards holding the seized men. That made things difficult.

He had to know why Jak seemed so close to Sig, when they had known each other for the most of a year. Why Sig refuses to finish the fight?

Was it because Jak reminded him of Mar aswell? Sig would always go through to the end, even if he was not proud of it, unless it was a child.

Jak was not a child. There had to be something there for Sig to break out of his own strict behavioural pattern.

Damas stared at Sig, trying to silently ask him for the information he wanted. Mar would've been able to convey the message, but that was part of the problem. Sig stared downwards, knowing what Damas was glaring for, but also knowing he couldn't explain it here.

Damas stormed up closer, trying to understand. Sig lifted his head slightly, looking from Damas to Jak, then back with a difficult expression to explain. Jak glanced his eyes to towards Sig, confused. It was an awkward thing Sig tried to convey, but even Jak couldn't understand it.

Damas glared at the larger man, demanding answers, NOW!, but Sig kept himself tight-lipped. He would have sounded insane, or gotten Jak mixed up in it, If he isn't already, Sig reminded himself. This wasn't something that could be cleared up in a public hearing, at the least.

None of them realised how mixed up it already had Jak. And Damas could tell it was not that simple for Sig to explain without words. A simple problem to fix, send them on a punishment that he knew they could survive, even if it seems harsh.

"Sig, your time in Haven City has poisoned you!" Damas growled to the thoughts of the audience's eyes. He didn't understand how that worked in the slightest. Haven was dog-eat-dog, if anything Spargus' ruler, himself, was the reason Sig and the newcomer..."And you, newcomer!" He turned to Jak, an angry scowl on his face, but he couldn't seem to sound like he was sending them to a horrible fate, it pulled at his lungs when he tried. "You deserve no mercy." His words fell to the pit of his stomach for a moment.

"I should toss you both into the jaws of the desert!" He noticed a few guards seeming to comply with that, he quickly glared their movements into submission. "However, Sig, your years of service as our spy in Haven have earned you a chance to redeem yourself." And I need to know why this boy has you going soft... "But just this once!" he reminded, swinging a staff close to the man's nose. Jak glanced up, scooting towards Sig as much as he could, with four men holding him in place.

"A spy?" The boy sounded surprised to Damas' ears, but his eyes didn't. They looked hopeful for some reason. Sig quickly, without looking at the boy to see a child he shouldn't, elbowed Jak in the ribs.

"Just shut up..." he muttered quietly. "I'll tell you later." he half-lied. He knew he would have to tell Jak sooner or later. That he thought Damas was his father, but had no idea how. That he was in Haven looking for the child Jak had been, the kid they had been protecting.

Damas sent the pair into the desert to deal with metal heads, something both of these men were well known for doing.