Chapter twenty-five, Daze
'
Begin Introspection. Serial code: Tess.
'
Of course Jinx was the one who helped me get the job as a bartender at the Hip Hog. He put his neck out big time, because if I got caught, no lifetime's worth of "being useful for getting stuff blown up" would keep him safe from Krew. Of course big bro knew I was with the Underground. Krew played on all sides – but I guess we'll never know if he also knew about which one I stuck with.
Although, being totally honest… it would be pretty weird if he didn't.
Well! It doesn't matter now.
The last bartender spent about twenty minutes giving me instructions before he bolted for his freedom. Hope he got to live to enjoy it, too, or if he was deemed knowing too much. Jinx gave me the real lowdown.
"I know yer tough, Tessa," he told me, leaning on the bar as he crushed the stump of a cigar into the ash tray. "But if trouble piles up, jus' holler. We're close by."
He motioned at a group of patrons in a corner, and a couple of them glanced our way to nod just the slightest. All of them looked dumb as bricks – scarred bricks – but also as strong as lurkers. Jinx had made sure everyone knew he was my brother, making sure that I would get no trouble from any of Krew's goons. Nobody in their right mind – and hopefully not in their most drunk state either – would be dumb enough to push their luck with the bomberman's sis.
Jinx can be a darling when he feels like it. We both knew that yeah, I could deal with unruly morons very well, thank you. Growing up in Haven looking like I do, you need to learn more than a little self-defense. Big bro wasn't talking about the usual "trouble." Drunkard idiots can get angry when they're slighted, especially in such parts of town, and then they might very well call their armed friends for a party.
I hadn't expected Jinx to leave me hanging, but hearing about his safeguards made me relax quite a bit. It made it a lot easier to play the airhead when Krew deigned to give me a minute later. Thankfully he didn't care much for the bartenders, no matter how they looked, as long as the drinks were served and the bar was clean.
But before that, before Jinx left me to start looking through the stock and learn where things were, my bro jabbed a thumb towards the farthest corner of the room. I could see a bulky shape sitting in a booth, but the light was so bad that for a moment I thought I saw a metal head. Soon enough I learned that it was just the skull of one, used as part of an armor.
Hehe. "Just" that.
"An' if nobody else is here," Jinx said, "ya can always count on Sig. Jus' be prepared for a lotta nicknames."
I just looked at him and raised an eyebrow at that last comment, making both of us crack up laughing.
He was right though. I could always count on Sig. Several times he just marched up before I even had time to signal him, to stare down or drag out guests who had had a few too many and wouldn't take any no for an answer.
Of course I had heard about Krew's Wastelander of a heavy, but I hadn't met him before. The stories made him a lot more scary than he really was.
Okay, he's terrifying if you make him angry and I imagine even metal heads might stop and think for a second before trying to jump on him, but he was never rough or rude to me.
There was always something very proud and stoic about him though, as if he was just bearing being there. The usual rumor about why he worked for Krew, was that nobody else would dare hire him. But that just didn't make sense. He went back to the wasteland now and again, and I could see the glint in his eye when he mentioned that he was going. He didn't like being in Haven.
Of course I didn't ask. It doesn't take a woman's intuition to know that you'd better stay out of a Wastelander's business.
Well, that was then. Now is now.
And now I know why he's in Haven, because he just explained it to me.
And suddenly my old, biggest safeguard is big, big trouble.
'
End Introspection.
'
It was a good point, and a good idea. Really good ones, even. Even so, Daxter couldn't shake his (mild, mind) misgivings as he climbed into the Sand Shark's seat. Jak put the car in reverse and backed – undoing Daxter's noob parking from yesterday – until he could turn towards the gate. It obediently opened as they approached, letting them out into the sunbathed sea of sand. Evening was coming on, though, and it was not unbearable.
Immediately as the gate closed behind them, Jak turned the wheel and drove along the wall towards the ocean. The dunes were smoother in that area, leaving no place for potential hiding enemies to spring out.
Jak parked far enough away from the wall to hopefully keep them out of sight of anybody watching from Spargus, too. Because…
"This is gonna look stupid as heck," Daxter declared. He couldn't help snickering, though. "Prolly even after we get it right."
"We'll leave no witnesses," Jak said with a quirk of the corner of his lips.
"Sometimes, bud, you do come up with great plans!"
Daxter reached up and grabbed the bare rail frame of the Shark to heave himself up.
"Also," he said with a mix of a wince and a grin, "sorry in advance for all the times I'm gonna kick you in the head."
Jak chuckled and shook his head. Then he started shuffling over from the driver seat to the passenger's, while Daxter struggled to half-crawl, half-swing past the meager "back" of the car. Of course he managed to knock his knee into Jak's shoulder along the way. Twice.
"You know…" Daxter huffed as he crashed down in the driver's seat with very little grace, "it just struck me that I have to do a lot more work than you with this. Was that part of your smartass plan too?"
"You're more nimble than me," Jak pointed out, not trying to sound too innocent.
"Oh yeah, not like you could climb up a tower by swinging on conveniently placed poles. Oh wait!"
They lasted half a second of glaring at each other before the laughter broke through.
"Okay," Jak finally said as he calmed down, "back again. Quicker."
Even though he was still chortling, Daxter managed an annoyed sound in between. But he clambered back up.
It was a simple idea, really, inspired by what had happened at the oasis.
What if we're out in the desert and the one of us driving gets hurt?
Well, the one driving would most likely always be Jak. But disregarding that, the whole idea was that there could be times when they needed to switch places in the car quickly. Better have that practiced at least a little bit, so that they wouldn't have to improvise in a bad situation.
It was a pretty undignified display. That first knee to the shoulder was just the beginning, and Jak head butted Daxter in the chest or stomach from behind several times as well.
But since nobody saw them, the only ones laughing at them were they themselves.
Daxter couldn't even remember when they last had this much fun. Neither could Jak, when it was pointed out.
Finally, when they had gotten used enough to it to get the switch done sans accidental fighting a few times in a row, Daxter fell onto the passenger seat and wiped his sweaty forehead.
"I need a drink!" he said and gulped down the last water from his flask.
Nodding in agreement, Jak breathed out and started the engine.
"Tomorrow we'll practice doing it while driving," he said.
Daxter threw a stare at him, saw the look in his eyes, and sunk back into the seat with a grunt.
"Okay, but no practicing switching while zooming up a ramp for a jump! I mean it!" Daxter added the last to make absolutely sure Jak wouldn't get any ideas. Because he would, otherwise. If he hadn't already thought of it.
And there were several more cars to practice on as well. Well, at least they had some basic practice now, so the other vehicles might not cause them as many bruises.
They drove back into the city, wherein Jak parked the Shark properly – no comments – and then they could head off to the Black Oasis bar. Maybe if he hadn't been in such a good mood, Jak might have been a bit more careful about what followed.
It was, after all, Daxter's first time in the bar as a human. As soon as they entered, Etche the bartender spotted them and her scarred face twisted up in a challenging grin the moment Daxter met her gaze.
"So, the rat's grown a few inches!" she cackled. Yep, she had seen his arena fight, at least.
"And I've got hairless hands now!" Daxter shot back, waving them about. "Remember that time you said you wouldn't let a rat into your stock?"
Etche's grin turned into a smirk. Of course Daxter had told her that he owned his own bar back in Haven and could mix drinks just as good as she – which was of course a bit of an exaggeration seeing as she was a few years' worth of experience ahead of him – and she had responded by teasing him about not allowing animals behind the bar.
"You wanna challenge me, kid?"
Jak got a sinking feeling right about then.
"Well, I betcha I can throw one of your Facetwisters together in a minute, for starters!" Daxter declared.
Etche responded by lining up bottles and fruit on the counter, for him to prove himself. Daxter immediately attacked.
It took longer than a minute, as the right ingredients were hidden amongst dozens of bottles and he had to stop and look for them, but in the end he had chopped, squeezed and stirred up something that looked about right. Meaning that it looked radioactive.
"Will you do the honors, Jak?" Daxter offered with a grin, holding out the glass.
"No." Jak didn't even glance. He happily stuck to his own, un-painful drink.
"Hey, I'm the judge here!" Etche said and snatched up the glass.
The entire bar looked on with transfixed horror as she drained the neon green liquid in a single gulp. As she straightened up her mouth moved into something that looked like a horizontal S and her eyes squeezed shut.
"Mh!" she groaned, twisting her neck and forcing her face back into order with sheer willpower.
"You know, it's kinda cheating when you drink it so quick you don't stop and taste it," Daxter said with a chortle.
"Heh!" Etche slammed the glass down and plucked a clean one from one of the many, many shelves behind the counter. "You almost got it, squirt. Lemme show you how it's done."
And so it went back and forth with the other person drinking the alchemist's creation. To little surprise though, Etche was also much better at handling her alcohol. She didn't even seem fazed by the time Daxter started to wobble and ramble more than usual.
There would be no declarations of love this time, Jak knew that. He also knew that he shouldn't have let Daxter get drunk – again! – but towards the end it went too fast for him to pick up on it in time. Maybe he too had had one or two too many. The competition had been rather fun to watch, and he had gotten himself distracted in his own gulps.
Finally, though, Jak pushed away and took a hold of Daxter's shoulder, dropping payment on the counter.
"Aw, I was about to get ahead!" Daxter complained, but he didn't argue anymore than that as Jak steered him towards the door.
Etche waved goodbye at them from the other side of the now very messy counter, with a glint in her eye saying that she'd like to do that again.
Daxter cheerfully rambled on as he and Jak went up the street towards their apartment, but the closer they got, the more thoughtful the redhead seemed to be. That was not how it usually went, and Jak tried to get a look on his face. The flickering torches along the walls did not offer enough light for it, though.
"Dax?" he finally asked.
"I think I'm drunk." Daxter looked up and gave Jak a goofy grin, which he returned with a twitch of his lips.
"You are."
Daxter chuckled. They climbed the stairs to the apartment and Jak pushed the door open, steering Daxter inside. As Jak turned and closed the door, though, the redhead dropped a mental bomb on him.
"Hey, no ravaging the drunk stud. Ain't yur style!"
Jak twisted his head around, staring at Daxter who just chortled and poked him in the chest. As if that had been anywhere near funny.
"Though I dunthinkya would, even'if y'were high on drugs'n buckets o' dark eco. You jusht think I think you think so."
Daxter paused and slowly blinked, finally turning a pair of wide, glassy eyes at Jak.
"Yep, I'm drunk."
He slumped a bit more, face disappearing beneath his bush of hair.
"If you've got that, then drink some water," Jak said and pulled out a chair with his foot.
He set Daxter down and walked to the water urn, not wanting to let the redhead see how disturbed he felt. It may just have been drunk babbling, a passing thought of an inebriated mind – but that still meant that the thought had been there, not necessarily born during the intoxication. And that bared crack in Daxter's trust was like a slash in the gut.
He glared murder at the hand holding the dipper. It only seemed to make the shaking worse.
Without a word he gave Daxter the dipper and waited as the redhead slowly sipped. When the water was gone Jak took hold of a bony shoulder again, steadying Daxter's fumbling steps to the sleeping room.
Jak didn't bother to drink any water on his own. He did not drink much in the first place – maybe a little tipsy now, but not so bad in his own opinion.
He never really got drunk because alcohol never seemed to help as much as rumors would have it. If he was angry already he just got angrier, and worries increased. Not something he needed.
Daxter brushed against him, muttering something about the floor not cooperating. Jak bit his lip. It burnt after the thoughtless, drunk accusation, every little thought and fantasy he had not felt comfortable with before now twisting his stomach. Things passing through his mind of holding Daxter close and listening to that sweet voice mumble senselessly, half words broken by little gasps and moans. Things he could not help or stop thinking about, but they had always felt like a crime. A crime, as long as Jak knew that it wasn't something Daxter wanted. It wasn't right.
He should leave. He knew that, but he had to at least make sure Daxter got to bed without falling over, first.
Somehow he felt a little safer when they sat down, but at the same time he dreaded the moment Daxter would stretch out on the sleeping mat – woozy, vulnerable. As he idly fumbled with his armor, Jak considered curling up to sleep in a corner rather than lie down beside his friend. In the next second he caught himself. Where had that thing about leaving gone?
He knew why, gritting his teeth. It was just that he didn't want to be alone, either.
He frowned, trying to shake it off as idiotic, thinking about all the people who'd tell him he was acting like a child. But it came back when he glanced at Daxter; thin fingers clumsily trying to get his boots off while he kept muttering to himself. The goggles had been discarded, dirty, yellow-red hair flopping about around his ears.
Jak turned away again, fighting the urge to rub his arms. He felt dirty.
Finally there was a shuffling sound as Daxter crawled up to sleep, but Jak didn't look. He dawdled, wishing he wasn't there.
He didn't have to stay. Leaving would probably be for the best.
At the same time, that would be running away, and he pursed his mouth in disgust at the very words. So he sat there, hesitating for a few moments longer.
Daxter gave a loud yawn and shifted, trying to fluff up the pillow. An annoyed grunt followed, as he was reminded that it would be easier to fluff up a rock. He heaved himself halfway into sitting.
"Hey," he said.
Jak looked up at the sleepy, impatient tone.
"Hm?" the blond replied.
"Floor's too hard. Get over here."
Jak blinked. He sat dumbfounded for a second, until Daxter got annoyed with it and started to sit straighter. Suddenly numb, Jak just kicked his boots off and crept over. Just following an order. That was alright, it was safe.
He stretched out on his side, only to have Daxter suddenly flop down and put his head on Jak's unguarded arm. Jak started, about to recoil when the glitter of confused eyes caught him. He froze.
"You said s'okay when I touch you," Daxter mumbled.
A hint of guilt crept into his voice. He thought he had made Jak uncomfortable.
Well, he had, but not because of that.
"Yeah, but…" Jak began.
"'Kay."
Satisfied, Daxter curled up slightly. His eyes slid shut.
"You're comfy."
Despite the stubborn unease, Jak had to chuckle at the statement and the deadpan way Daxter made his declaration. He could hear the sleepy smile in Daxter's snort before the redhead wriggled, underlining that he was perfectly satisfied where he was and wasn't going to move. A slow sigh, and then he settled. The breathing evened out and he relaxed.
Jak didn't move for a little while, just watching the silhouette of his friend's hair and long ear. It would be pretty hard to leave without waking Daxter up.
But after a couple of minutes Jak had to shift, trying to tilt the head on his arm so that it wouldn't completely cut off his circulation. Daxter grumbled in his sleep but didn't wake up, settling again as soon as the movement stopped. His hands had landed just by Jak's chest, fingers easily bent in relaxation.
Defenseless.
Jak moved his own free hand indecisively, unable to find a comfortable position for his arm that didn't involve laying it over Daxter's side. It would have been the most practical for balance, and the parts of him that weren't painfully constricted wanted to – but he couldn't. Instead, taking note of Daxter's hands, he lowered his own to them. It wasn't the most comfortable, the arm couldn't really rest leaning against Jak's side, but he felt better resting his fingers over his friend's.
Slowly, Jak started to relax again. It still took quite a while before he fell asleep however, lying awake and listening to Daxter's and his own breathing, shifting now and again to keep the circulation going.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he counted on that he might move around a little in his sleep. Eventually however, the exhaustion from the day overpowered him and he drifted off.
Freedom HQ was never abandoned. They didn't dare to. There could be a crisis popping up at any second, and then there had to be somebody trustworthy at hand to shout orders at troops and directions to evacuees. So Samos, Torn and Ashelin took turns sleeping. There were always some points when they were all gathered, however. It was at those times they felt the safest, too. Of course, none of them would ever admit it.
This was such a time. For the time being things were calm. Ashelin listened to a report while Torn leaned over a computer screen, reading the lists of supplies that scrolled past under his hand. Samos sat at a table with parchments and papers strewn about, taking notes and pausing only now and then to stare off in a distance, thinking.
Onin sat over in her corner, Pecker resting on her hat. Both of their heads bowed and eyes closed. They might be meditating or sleeping, or something in between.
The peace was broken by a beep from a side monitor. Torn turned over and pushed the button to answer.
"Come in, Tess," he said.
"Hey Torn," her voice chirped from the communicator. Everyone instantly relaxed at her cheerful tone. "I made some cucumber sandwiches for old time's sake. Should I bring them over?"
Torn did not move a muscle on his face during this random offer, but when Tess fell silent he glanced up and met Samos' gaze. The old man raised an eyebrow.
"Thanks," Torn calmly said, returning to the communicator. "I'll meet you halfway down."
He switched off the communicator and exchanged a nod with Ashelin before turning to leave. Samos followed him without a word.
During their time as the Underground, they had taken to codenames for their communicator conversations and any other time there was a risk somebody could overhear them. To make it sound innocent they had used grocery items for the names – and Tess might have had a little too much fun with thinking it all up. Any reference to cucumbers or cabbage meant Samos, apples meant Ashelin, toffee meant Tess, and Daxter would have died laughing if he heard what Torn was.
That Tess brought that back up at this time, though, was strange and worrisome.
Although, after she met up with Torn and Samos in the HQ and the three of them withdrew to a secure meeting room, it turned out that she actually had brought bread-and-cucumber-based snacks.
"Because you're falling into your bad eating habits again!" she told Torn as she shoved half a dozen, neatly cut sandwiches at him. He started to protest about not having time for nonsense, but she stabbed at the air right between his eyes with a finger. "But that's not the thing! Listen!"
Torn glanced at Samos for help, but the Sage just sat down on a chair by the round table and leaned his staff against the furniture.
"Go ahead, Tess," Samos said. He absently waved at Torn to eat his sandwiches.
Sighing, the Commander obeyed. He did take note of the serious look on Tess' face too, but he also had a lot of work to do…
"We trust Sig, right?" Tess said, drumming her pink nails against the table.
"We'd be a juggernaut short if we didn't," Torn commented and picked up another sandwich.
Tess waited for Samos to nod as well before she continued.
"Yeah, I always wondered why a Wastelander like him would work for Krew," she said, ignoring the impatient look she got from Torn. "He never seemed like a bad guy…"
She took in a deep breath, then spoke very quickly through her teeth.
"He told me he's searching for a five-year old boy with green hair and blue eyes. Mute."
Torn choked on the sandwich. While Tess shot from her seat to dunk the coughing man's back, Samos leaned forwards on his seat, eyes closing in thought.
"You… didn't… tell… him… did you?" Torn managed between coughs and wheezes.
"Of course not, what was I supposed to say?" Tess said, throwing up her arms, then let them flop down to dangle helplessly. "I said that I'd take a listen around."
She looked between the two men, clenching her fists.
"But… it's not fair. If he put up with working for Krew for all those years, just because… and he's helped us too! It's not fair!"
"No," Samos said in a low voice. "It certainly isn't." He looked up. "But we all know that he can't find the boy."
He paused.
Yes.
"Not like he, nor the one who sent him, expects."
The words hung heavily in the air. Finally, somebody had to take that final step over the edge.
"Samos," Torn said, coughing one last time. "You said that you, Keira and Jak and Daxter came here from the past because of an accident with Precursor technology…"
"Yes," Samos said, watching him evenly.
They were all silent for a moment, until Samos quietly sighed. The gears had been turning in their heads for a long time, he knew that. He owed them at least this final push to remove the disbelief, and allow it all to click. After all, disbelief must be the only thing holding it all back now, and on a very thin thread. It was more a question of "never dared to ask."
"Although we might have altered history," he said and smiled a little, "the four of us coming here set some things right, in a way. Only Keira and Daxter did belong in the past."
"And…" Torn gripped the edge of the table, not just because he was still out of breath. Standing beside him, Tess chewed on her lower lip. "And you said that the Shadow used the same technology to bring Prince Mar someplace where he would be safe."
Slowly, Samos nodded.
"And you look like an older version of the Shadow, and his name was Samos too," Tess said, her voice thinning. She had to sit down. "Samos… the Prince…?"
She could only mouth another name after that. A simple, one syllable name.
The Sage took off his glasses and turned them over in his small hands. It made his face look very different, without the spectacles enlarging his beady eyes. The blue bird that always scurried around him settled on the thick branch he wore as a bizarre head ornament. It ruffled up its feathers, oddly still.
"Let me tell you two what I remember from this time," Samos said in a soft voice.
They listened without a word, Tess pressing a hand to her mouth and a hint of pale creeping onto even Torn's controlled features, as Samos described a situation so dire that it forced enemies to cooperate – and even then, only to carve a bloody swath to open a way for a tiny, frail ray of hope carried in an old man's arms.
"So," he finally said, looking between the two of them, "if we take a hard look at the issue, Jak is not truly your Lord Damas' son. But we cannot say that he isn't, either."
Torn stared at the table. Tess rubbed her forehead. It was too much to take in at first, the revelation they had suspected for so long, and it's morbid backstory. In the end, Tess might not be the one who recovered the quickest, but she gathered her thoughts to speak before Torn could.
"We… we gotta tell Sig," she croaked. Her hands clenched on the table. "It's too cruel! We have to tell him, Samos!"
"And then what?" Samos said. Serious, but not unkind.
"Then he'll tell Lord Damas, and… and…"
She faltered as Samos shook his head.
"And do you think that Lord Damas, who has every reason to be paranoid and expect treachery at every turn when it comes to Haven, would believe it?" Samos asked. "He might very well lash out and banish Jak from his presence forever."
"But he respects Jak, Daxxie gushed about it!"
"Yes, and Jak idolizes him." Samos put his glasses back on. "Do you want to risk destroying that?"
Tess' shoulders dropped. She raised a hand, started to speak, but cut herself off and moved the hand to her face instead.
"I won't tell you what to do in this situation," Samos said. "But as for me, I admit that I am too afraid of harming Jak at this point."
"We can't tell them," Torn said, finding his voice again at long last. It was hard as flint as he glared at Tess. "Not now. We can't risk Jak and Sig's help before we're in the clear."
Tess flung out her arms in frustration.
"And what if they die out there?" she snarled. Deep down she knew very well that Torn was right, but that only made her angrier.
The Commander pushed himself up, shaking his head.
"Don't pull this on me, Tess," he said, walking towards the door without looking around. "Thanks for the sandwiches."
"Hey––!"
But he was gone.
Tess slumped forwards, planting her forehead on the balls of her hands. Her blonde hair swung down, creating wall that shielded her face. Samos sat still, deep in thought.
"What should I tell Sig, Samos?" Tess asked the table.
He gave her a sympathetic look, but she didn't see it.
"You don't need to tell him anything right now," Samos said. "Simply that you're keeping your eyes and ears open. Give your thoughts time to sprout and grow."
Tess nodded, numbly.
'
Begin Introspection. Serial code: Samos.
'
The poor girl wanted a yes or no answer, it's plain as a poison caterpillar on a rose. She would have preferred the former. However, Torn is right that we cannot risk crumbling Sig's trust, and I meant it when I said that I would not dare risk harming Jak.
The current situation is frighteningly delicate. Jak is still growing stronger, and another blow to his trust in us is something that I won't dare risking – from a strategic standpoint and as his guardian.
I could not even begin counting all the mistakes I made while raising him, but somehow he still trusted me in the end. He's done as he's told, because he must have known that no matter what happened I did care for him as much as for Keira. It was never just about creating a hero. That part he had to make out of himself.
But Jak was never my child, and I cannot take a gamble with the bond between him and his real father. We all failed Jak horribly when Veger's schemes were put into motion.
I hope that Tess can keep her head cool. I would like to order her to be silent, but I fear that would backfire. There was a reason for why she got along so well with Daxter, after all.
'
End Introspection.
'
This is where I would normally do a "OMG Tess/Sig OTP!" joke, but ya know, it's nice to have a male and female character interact and still just be friends sometimes. Even in fanfic ;)
Sidenote: Etche the bartender is loosely based on my best friend, who worked as a bartender back when I started writing this story. And indeed, she invented a cocktail she named "Facetwister". It was super sour.