A/N: Okay, soooo. Obligatory profuse apologizing for the appalling lateness. The sad thing is I'm actually trying very hard to be on time, and I'm failing very badly. But I'm going to keep trying! I set myself a schedule and I need to get myself back on it! I wanna thank you all for the reviews again because you don't understand how unbelievably...honored and warm and fuzzy they make me.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the chapter. I had fun with this chapter. Not the homicidal fun of the last chapter but still fun in its own special way...

DISCLAIMER: Is in the first chapter. If Jak and Daxter were mine...well...I wouldn't be writing this fanfiction because this would have happened in the game.

Jak and Daxter: The Darkness Within
by Jam

Sig had done a lot of questionable things in his life, both as a Wastelander and as Krew's hired gun. He had done things he wasn't exactly proud of, though he wouldn't necessarily say he had any regrets. However, just because he was a Wastelander and a mercenary did not mean that he didn't have any morals. He had quite a few of them, in fact. And shooting children was about as against his morals as Sig could possibly get.

The creature baring its teeth at him from across the blood-soaked sand didn't look like a kid. Oh, it was shaped like one, if you ignored the claws and the fangs. But the way it held itself, its muscles coiled and ready to lash out and its claws extended threateningly, fangs gleaming in the strange purple glow of it crackling Eco – that was all lethal, pissed-off predator waiting to strike. The Wastelander wished he could shove up those goggles and see what was going on in that silver-haired head, know what exactly he was dealing with. Sig tried to find any sign of 'Jak' in the lines of that creature's body, but found none. Three well-aimed shots with his Blaster mod could bring the thing down, he thought, and yet he hesitated. It wasn't that he was afraid, or that he didn't think he could get the shots off fast enough. One wrong move and there would be one more dead body on the beach, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be Sig's. But that was just the thing – the creature wasn't moving…at least, not moving like it was about to attack. It shifted subtlety in the sand, maneuvering until it stood firmly between Sig and the unconscious, bleeding lump face-first in the sand.

So maybe the demon wasn't so demonic after all, if it was trying to protect the kid. As much as that realization relieved Sig, it would probably do more harm than good. To Sig's understanding, Dark Eco was the most volatile and lethal substance on the face of the planet, and yet Daxter's friend didn't seem to realize that zapping him with dozens of little lightning strikes of Dark Eco might not exactly be the healthiest thing right about now. And if Sig didn't do something to stop the bleeding, he would have a very dead teenager and a very angry Dark Eco…something on his hands, and that was not something he wanted to deal with. Honestly, Krew didn't pay him enough.

"Look, things don't need to get any uglier than they already are," Sig said, attempting to sound placating while keeping his massive Peacemaker trained on the spot right between Jak's goggled eyes. He could be diplomatic when he wanted to be, but there was no way he was letting his guard down near a creature that had managed to take down a pack of Metal Heads by ripping them apart limb from limb with its bare hands. "Just…step away from the kid and let me -."

Whatever else he planned to say was drowned out by growl that could have made a Metalsaur turn around and run with its stubby tail between its legs. The Dark Eco surged like a wall of snapping, lashing tongues of death. Sig would have liked to say he wasn't at all intimidated, but that wouldn't be the whole truth. He did, however, have more important concerns.

"You're friend's dying. Might even be dead already," which was harsh, very harsh, but it seemed to do the trick. It was like somebody had flipped a switch. One minute there was a snarling, glowing, demon from hell glaring at him from amidst a circle of mangled corpses, and the next there was just an ordinary, if panicked, teenager.

And Jak was panicking. Which was a new and horrible feeling that he really didn't like and he couldn't understand why Daxter seemed to like panicking so much because, really, he felt like he was going to be sick.

Jak hadn't felt fear like this in years. Even on the darkest days trapped in that horrible prison he hadn't felt fear like this. Anger, yes. So much anger, and dread because he knew that every day he'd have to face whatever new horror Erol had concocted in that twisted, sadistic mind of his. But Jak had never feared for his own life. Locked away in his cell, he had worried about Samos and Keira, but mostly about Daxter. He had been terrified of the thought of Daxter out there somewhere, alone, in this strange cruel world that didn't make any sense. Terrified, later, of the thought of Erol torturing his best friend in the same ways he went through every day. But even that fear hadn't compared to the raw panic that had filled him that day in the spider caves. He couldn't remember much from that day. Back then, it had almost been like Jak and the bloodlust were two separate entities, and he'd tended to forget whatever he'd done after it faded. But he could remember the way his stomach had leapt into his throat when Daxter had collapsed, the way his heart had stopped when Daxter hadn't woken up no matter what he'd tried. It had been one thing to hear Erol talk about all the things he had done to Daxter, but another thing entirely to stare down at his friend's seemingly lifeless body and not be able to do anything.

It was so much worse this time. Jak ignored the instincts screaming at him that there was still a gun pointed directly at him, a threat that needed to be eliminated, and fell to his knees in the sand next to the limp body of his friend. Daxter was disturbingly cold, his skin clammy and so pale as to almost be translucent. That he was still breathing was hardly the relief it should have been when his breaths were so faint and far too quick. Jak didn't know the first thing about first aid or healing. Injuries had never been a real problem back home where Green Eco had been nearly as abundant as the air itself, and where anything serious could have been taken care of with a wave of Samos' wizened hands. Back at the prison, Jak had never had to worry about dying exactly, not until the end. The Baron had wanted to keep him alive to attempt to torture his so-called secrets out of him, so they'd always been careful to never go too far. It had helped in a way that he was chock full of Dark Eco; it meant he was a bit sturdier than the average elf. But none of that helped now when Daxter's life was literally flowing out of him, barely slowed by Jak's shaking hands and staining the sand an ugly, dark red.

A sound behind him, the soft crunch of a booted foot moving through the sand, literally had his hackles rising and his Eco snapping in warning. He glared viciously at the mercenary over his shoulder, but the only emotion he saw in that single green eye was worry.

"I've got a health pack I can use on 'im; it's not too late," Sig explained, eyeing the pale teen warily. "But I can't exactly heal him from all the way over here, if you catch my drift."

The Wastelander finally lowered his gun, reached into one of the pouches dangling from his waist, and pulled out a small, grey, metal cube. The object pulsed with a green energy all too familiar to Jak. Green Eco, the energy of life and renewal. There was hope, held not ten feet away in that mercenary's hand. Any sane individual would step aside now and let the older elf help, let him heal the downed teenager before it was too late. But Jak was self-aware enough to know he wasn't entirely sane. His mind was still hazy with the rush of battle, the blinding rage that someone had dared to attack his Daxter, and he wasn't thinking very clearly. He didn't want to let the other elf anywhere near Daxter, and the darker part of his mind told him he didn't have to. How easy it would be to take the other elf by surprise now when his guard was down. Without that gun to protect him he was barely a threat; killing him would be effortless. And then the last threat would be gone and Jak would be able to help Daxter himself.

The rest of his mind, the slightly saner parts anyway, all balked at the thought of killing Sig just because he could. Sig wasn't some Lurker or Metal Head out to destroy the world, or even some Krimzon Guard glaring at him from behind a metal faceplate. Jak couldn't say he knew him well, but he seemed like a good guy – the nicest of the few people he had met in Haven City. Yes, he had shot at Jak but he hadn't been aiming at him, or Jak was fairly certain he'd already be dead right now. Sig was worried about Daxter too and he didn't know that Jak would rather throw himself down the volcanic crater's lava tube without one of Keira's heat shields than willingly hurt his best friend. Despite this, he still didn't want to let the other elf any closer. He couldn't trust the Wastelander, and entrusting him with Daxter's life was too much…

"…Let me," was all he could manage to ground out, but it seemed like the other elf understood him.

"No can do. Who knows what kind of messed up things can happen when you mix two Ecos together," Sig commented with a leery frown, eyeing Jak's crackling Eco aura warily.

Jak knew exactly what happened when you mixed two Ecos together. Or at least he knew what happened when Dark Eco mixed with Green Eco. He could remember well the strange, horrible, amorphous monster he and Daxter had fought on top of Gol and Maia's citadel. No, that wasn't something he could risk…Even though there only seemed to be a small amount of Eco in Sig's health pack, anything could happen. Maybe it would mix with Jak's Eco and make a smaller if no less vicious version of the monster he had fought years ago. Or maybe the reaction wouldn't happen until the Green Eco was already inside of Daxter, mending his wounds, and then…

No.

Jak threw himself away from Daxter with a ragged snarl, a clawed hand dragging over his face and tearing through his hair. Every second that he hesitated brought Daxter closer one step closer to an early death. He had already thought he'd lost his best friend once. He couldn't go through that again. The rage and the guilt and the emptiness. He couldn't. He wouldn't let Daxter die because he couldn't control his bloodlust and let someone help.

As soon as he, and his small storm of Dark Eco, were safely out of the way, Sig shot forward and held up the health pack. Jak watched with narrowed, ink black eyes as familiar Green Eco began to surround Daxter's body and sink beneath his skin. It wasn't much, but when the green glow had faded his skin had already regained some color and his breathing had slowed, though it remained shallow. The gaping wound in his side, four long claw marks that would most likely leave nasty scars if not healed with more Eco, had closed somewhat. Knowing Daxter, he would probably prefer to keep the scars just so that he could brag about them to anyone who would listen. He would make up wild tales about how he had taken on fifty Metal Heads single-handedly and fought off the final one with his bare hands, receiving the scars in the process. He would make Jak out to be some sort of damsel in distress he'd had to rescue. That thought, and the realization that now he would be alive to tell such tales, had Jak grinning, if brittley.

"As good as new, or at least he's not knockin' on Death's door," Sig said warmly, his voice heavy with relief and mood abruptly changed now that the crisis was averted and his life wasn't being threatened. "He's still standing on Death's porch, however. Those gaping holes in his side are an infection waiting to happen, and I don't wanna know what kind of Metal Head germs might be swimmin' around in there. I'd head back and get my hands on some more health packs, if I were you."

"I…thanks," now that Daxter was safe, for now, he felt like some of the rage that had been clouding his mind was clearing somewhat. The big elf just smiled at him enigmatically with a raised brow, all earlier hostility mysteriously gone.

"Don't mention it. Really, don't. Wouldn't be good for my reputation," the Wastelander said, completely serious. "And maybe I won't mention that I ran into the Dark Eco kid running around Haven City."

At Jak's sharp glance, the big elf actually chuckled. "Oh yea, I've heard all about you. Took me a second to remember, though. The KG are paying a hefty sum for whoever can bring you in, dead or alive. Lucky for you I only hunt Metal Heads."

"I almost killed you, and you're not even tempted to turn me in? What's the catch?" the pale teen asked curiously, eyeing the other suspiciously.

The Wastelander actually threw his head back and laughed. "Don't get cocky, chili pepper. You might've gotten one hit in before I blew you away. Maybe. But really, do I look the type to cooperate with the Krimzon Guard?"

Jak snorted as he knelt down to pick Daxter up. Despite the fact the teen was taller than him now, and slightly less scrawny than Jak remembered, he didn't seem to weigh all that much. It would probably be easier to throw him over his shoulder, but with Daxter's injuries that wasn't an option. He'd have to carry him bridal style. He wasn't sure if Daxter would have hated that or loved it. The younger elf loved praise and attention and even being fussed over, but he hated feeling as though he were weak. If he were awake, he'd be either be soaking up the attention in the most obnoxious way possible or he'd be trying his hardest to deafen Jak with all his huffing and complaining. The pale teen actually would have preferred the whining to this silence, to the raspy sound of Daxter's shallow breathing. The health pack had stopped him from dying there on the beach but Sig was right, he needed more help. Even if he did manage to find another health pack, he wouldn't risk trying to heal Daxter himself and Jak didn't exactly have a whole lot of people he could go to for help. Definitely not Krew. "I don't know…your boss is such an upstanding citizen and all."

"And I'm the Baron of Haven City," the Wastelander murmured under his breath. "Well, looks like the last one ran while he could. I'm gonna clean the Peacemaker and pick up the trophies. Your friend didn't do half bad, for a rookie. Up until he got stabbed in the back, at least."

"I'll let him know." He tried to ignore the fact that he could still feel Sig's single eye watching them closely long after the Wastelander was out of sight. The bigger elf probably had a lot of questions, and Jak probably owed him some answers at some point, but he was glad the mercenary had kept them to himself. He didn't know if he could trust Sig, but things seemed to be pointing toward a resounding 'yes' and he didn't have time to worry about it now. He wanted to be able to trust Sig, though. He seemed like a good guy – a rare thing in Haven City.

The walk back to Haven City was agonizingly slow, but at least it was uneventful. If there were still any Metal Heads left, they were making themselves scarce, and the wildlife was thankfully smart enough to stay away from an adversary covered in enough blood to fill a tub. Jak didn't have much hope that a trudge halfway across Haven City would be equally uneventful. Torn was the only other person Jak thought they might be able to trust. The tattooed elf had accepted Jak's 'condition' easily enough, and they were working for him, so he should be willing to help. He just didn't know how the Krimzon Guards would respond to a blood-soaked teenager walking around with comatose, equally bloody body. It was entirely possible that the KG would just ignore it, like they tended to ignore all crime that didn't directly affect them in some way, and there was every possibility that the KG would pick this particular day to actually do their duty and try to bring Jak in. Or just shoot him on sight. He didn't have a lot of options and he honestly didn't know how much time he had. After all this was over with he was going to have to find some way to learn about wounds and all that encompassed, because he couldn't panic every time Daxter got injured.

"So nice to be pampered every once in a while. You should carry me around more often, Jak," the aforementioned comatose body commented cheerfully, and Jak almost dropped the fiery-haired elf in the muck of the water slums in shock.

"Daxter!"

"The one and only!" Daxter's smile was weak but completely genuine and another sign that he was alive. "I can walk, though, ya know. I got two legs, same as you."

To his credit, Daxter only wobbled drunkenly for a moment before he managed to right himself without help. He was hunched awkwardly to one side, as if he thought leaning to his left would somehow close the wounds more and make them stop hurting, but at least he could stand on his own two feet. A weight Jak hadn't really realized still haunted him slid off of his shoulders as Daxter began to complain – a sure sign that he would make it, or at least last long enough to find another health pack.

"Man, that stung! Please tell me I didn't faint after one pathetic hit? We'll leave that part out when we tell Keira about it," Daxter hissed as he glanced down at his side, eyes widening a bit as he took in the wound. Jak didn't think Daxter had ever really been injured before, that he could remember. Jak had broken bones before, had dislocated limbs and had had a fair number of scars healed by the resident Green Eco Sage, but he had always tried to make sure Daxter had never gotten hurt. The first time he could remember Daxter being hurt was that incident in the spider caves, and Jak had been so unprepared for it (and so mad on Dark Eco) that he had almost mauled Samos before he could heal him. "We, um…yea, we should do something about that, huh? Wow. Is that all my blood? That's… a lot of blood. That's not all mine, is it?"

"There's some Metal Head blood in there, too, if that makes you feel any better," Jak informed him helpfully, smirking at the face Daxter made.

"Oh, yeuch! This is just sick. If I get rabies I'm blaming it on you," the pale teen, and pale as in lost a lot of blood and not pale as in full of Dark Eco, placed a trembling hand to his side and started shuffling down the pier, Jak hovering within catching distance like a mother Flut-Flut. "I got a health pack back at the house for, uh…just such emergencies. Figures I wouldn't need it 'til I'm saddled with you again."

Making it to the house with a conscious Daxter was a lot easier, and a lot less suspicious, than trying to carry him through the entirety of the slums. A couple of Krimzon Guards still glared at them as they passed, probably thinking they were no-good ruffians who had gotten into some sort of street fight, but it was better than trying to avoid being arrested. Once they got safely inside, Daxter collapsed as slowly and delicately as physically possible onto the cot while Jak searched for the health pack. It didn't take him long to find it though, and once Daxter had used the Green Eco on himself he was as right as rain. Or, at least he was no longer on Death's front porch. It hadn't been enough Eco to heal him completely but, by the way Daxter poked and prodded at his new scars with a slightly disturbing grin on his face, Jak didn't think he minded all that much.

"These ain't half bad. Chicks dig scars, y'know," he commented lightly, as if the fact that he had nearly been ripped in half didn't faze him at all. Then again, he hadn't seen how bad off he'd been. He hadn't seen the growing puddle of blood or heard those weak, raspy breaths. "Those Metal Heads owe me a new shirt, though. Clothes ain't exactly cheap…"

"It might be a little difficult for them to pay you back," Jak said as he sat on the edge of the cot. There wasn't exactly anywhere else to sit, and he was tired. He had had more than enough excitement for one day, which was saying something, and the adrenaline that had been keeping him upright was draining fast. He pushed his goggles back and out of the way and let the red cowl fall to the floor, glad to be able to stop hiding at least for a little while.

"So, uh…how did Sig take the whole glowy, fanged, Dark Eco thing?" Daxter asked cagily, studiously examining the fingernails of one hand.

"People around here don't spook as easily as the people back home, I'll give them that," Jak admitted, remembering the way various villagers had reacted to seeing him for the first time. He still remembered the day the bird lady had mistaken him for a Horned Slaty-Breasted Long-Eared Screamer.

"Some people," Daxter corrected as he rolled onto his back and tucked his arms under his head. "Normal people would have run away screaming, no offense. But we just seem to be attracting all the crazy people in Haven City, like some sort o' magnet. I still don't know if I should find being called a cherry offensive or not."

"You didn't run away screaming, either. What does that make you?"

"Me? I'm the craziest of the bunch. It was the clincher on my application for dashingly handsome best friend," Daxter said with a shrug and an easy grin. Not even a full hour ago, Jak had almost been convinced he'd never see that grin again.

"I'm glad you're okay, Daxter…" He hadn't meant to say that out loud, but it wasn't as if he regretted it or anything. It was the truth. He didn't know what he would have done if Daxter had died today, if he had let Daxter die. There would be no one to track down for revenge, nothing to keep him focused. He was already frayed, and he would just fall apart without Daxter there to keep him together, to calm him down when he was too far gone and bring him back from the edge. But more than that, more important than that, Jak would just miss Daxter. It was as simple as that. He didn't want to imagine a world without Daxter's habit of complaining about just about everything, the way he bragged about even the smallest thing and his sometimes rather acerbic insults, the way he stuck by Jak no matter what crazy and dangerous thing he wanted to do and tried his hardest to be brave even when he would often much rather turn away and run, and the way he smiled genuinely like he was trying not to right now when someone said something nice about him that he wasn't expecting. He didn't have to imagine a world without Daxter. He had been in one for a little over a year, and he refused to go through that again.

Daxter actually seemed speechless for a second, and Jak wondered if he'd accidentally said all of that out loud as well, but after a moment he huffed slightly and glanced away with a smirk. "Of course I'm okay! Was there ever any doubt?" Before Jak could so much as open his mouth, Daxter quickly held up a finger and leveled him with a glare. "On second thought, don't answer that."

Something must have shown in Jak's expression, however, if the way his friend was suddenly frowning suspiciously at him was any indication. "Whaaaat?"

"You almost died today, Dax."

Daxter paled, his eyes going wide before he tried to hide his surprise. Maybe he hadn't realized how close he'd come to dying. He hadn't been awake when Sig had more or less told Jak that the young elf would die if he didn't step aside. He hadn't woken up until he'd already been back in Haven City, partially healed, and maybe he thought that was as bad as it had been. Well, Jak didn't need to describe the gory details for him. "Yea, well...now ya know how I feel every time you decide to do something stupid! Not exactly fun, is it?!"

No, it wasn't, but Jak had never been that close to dying before. He didn't have to say a word. After over fifteen years, Daxter could read his expressions and body language better than Jak could express himself with words. It was easier that way anyway, rather than trying to put things like this into words, especially when Jak didn't even know how to explain all emotions he had struggled through today. The fear and the anger and the hope and the relief. Daxter understood, though. He somehow always did. The heavy sigh and roll of the eyes that followed were needlessly overdramatic, but couldn't hide the way his dark blue eyes softened seemingly against his will.

"Yea, yea, I know. But if you expect me to sit back and let you do all the fighting, you've got another thing coming!"

Jak merely hummed in response as he collapsed onto his empty space on the cot by the window and buried his face in the sheets. He didn't care that it was barely past midday. Let Sig be the one to report to Krew and let them know the mission had been, more or less, successful. Just so long as the creep remembered to pay them, preferably with information so that they could actually try to get something useful accomplished. He didn't even care that he was probably getting blood all over the sheets; Daxter wasn't exactly spotless himself and he could complain all he liked, later. Much later.

"I…thanks, Jak. Y'know for…well. For savin' my tail."

He would have mentioned that he hadn't really done much, in that regard. Sure, he supposed he had ripped the Metal Heads to shreds before it could do any more damage, but it had been Sig who had healed Daxter. If he hadn't been there, there wouldn't have been anything Jak could do to save Daxter. He would have mentioned all that, but he was already sound asleep. And for once, strangely enough, there weren't any corpses in his sleep.

There's no cliff this time, but I still don't want to leave you hangin'. ;) I'll try my best to get the next chapter up soon.