Rating: K+
Pairing: None
Warnings: Spoilers for the Precursor Trilogy, unbeta'd.
Word Count: 584
For: The sake of speculation.

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Better Weeks
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"So we're up against the world's nastiest crime boss, with the best mercenary racers money can buy." He turned his back to the young woman that had, technically, gotten them all into this mess, and hesitated, the familiar seizing sensation in his chest reminding him of the half-truth of his next words. "And we've been poisoned."

Or at least his friends had been poisoned.

How could Jak possibly tell his friends, his family, that the Light Eco in his system had completely purged the toxin from his body the moment it contacted his tongue? How could he explain that even if they didn't win, even if they failed in this life or death gamble Krew had forced them into, he would survive?

He couldn't stand the thought of having to watch his friends die, of watching as they fell prey to his former employer's potion one after the other. Ashelin and Keira and Torn…and Daxter. Daxter might not last the season, he was so much smaller than everyone else and so much more vulnerable because of it. Just the thought of his best friend, of the person that had always been there dying in his arms, drifting off to sleep forever, was too much for him to bear.

Jak could tell himself over and over that he couldn't be certain that he was clean, that there was a chance that he was in just as much danger as everyone else, and it wouldn't change the familiar tingling sensation that had flared in his chest when he took that drink. That happened a lot when he was drinking something that had the ability to intoxicate a normal person—a quick, reflexive purification of the baser elements of the liquor. It assured the fact that Jak would never get drunk.

He hadn't thought on it much until later, but when they had all split up to think things over and make a thousand decisions, to deal with the hands they had been dealt, Jak realized that the flare had been stronger than he was accustomed.

The young man didn't dare allow any tests to be run, unlike the others who had asserted that they wanted blood and function tests run weekly to keep track of the progression of the poison. He told them it was because the needles and the observation of men in white coats was too much like it had been in prison, and it was almost the truth. The last thing he wanted was to relapse into a psychotic episode because the sensation of needles under his skin was too familiar.

But the real reason? If they ran tests on Jak they would find that he was clean, free of the poison that plagued the rest of his team. And then there would be questions from the doctors and a sense of betrayal from his friends, and he couldn't stand the thought of either. So he avoided the tests and never brought up the subject of his powers, of what they might have entailed for his condition.

He didn't want Rayn to know about those anyway, so the situation worked for the better in some ways. Others, though…

Jak felt Damas dying in his arms, the helplessness and anger over not being to save one of the few people he had wanted most to keep safe, and his chest ached at the thought that he might have to feel that again.

He lowered his eyes and heaved a sigh. "I've had better weeks."

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End
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