A/N: Happy New Year! At last, here are all twenty-six chapters I "finished" before I began publishing back in August. For the remaining twelve it'll be a bit of a wild west situation. As of now, I'm considering doing batch updates so that each individual chapter isn't sapped of impact. I have no idea how long it will take me, but I'll aim to try this out with the next four. Here's hoping it'll be an acceptable schedule for all, and thank you to everyone who has supported TMC up to now!

I'd like to take a moment to respond to yosefa since, as a guest reviewer, this is the only way I can do so. First off, I totally understand if you're not an OC fan. It sounds like Ryker won't be winning you over anytime soon, but I have some illustrations in mind that, if I can get to them, may make him feel more like he belongs to you. We'll see! As for the Dark Warrior Program, it is indeed implied that it ends with Jak when Erol says "I fear the Dark Warrior Program has failed," a quote that I left unaltered in this fic. I could probably revisit it so it makes more sense that, in TMC, it continues on after him. I'm sure the Baron's state-of-the-art injection equipment cost a pretty penny, and he wants to get his money's worth. :P Also, in Daxter it's referenced that five people are test subjects irc, so there's a random factoid. Anywho, thanks so much for providing in-depth feedback, and I'm so glad that you're enjoying the story and art so far! It feels great knowing that TMC can induce binge-reading. XD And goodness, making this into a full-fledged manga is fun to imagine. If only! I look forward to hearing from you should you feel inclined to review again!

When Jak awoke again he was alone. Stark light filtered into his small room through the drawn blinds, and he wondered how much time had passed. If the state of his body was any indication it must have been a while. Gingerly engaging the muscles of his back and chest was painful but far from debilitating. Probing under his pajamas, he found his torso free of medical dressing. The open wound left by Torn's bullet was gone.

Steeling himself with a deep breath, he slowly rose into a sitting position, pulling himself up first by gripping the blankets and then a knee. Never in his life had he ever felt so weak. Every limb seemed as hollow and brittle as an old log, and if it wasn't for the voracious hunger gnawing at his belly he might continue resting. Instead, he tried to stand up and promptly collapsed back onto the bed, overwhelmed by a rush of blood to his head. He waited out the dizziness with his eyes shut tight and stubbornly tried again, determined to move under his own power. Though he felt like a gentle breeze could blow him over with ease, he somehow stayed upright.

Jak staggered toward the chair Samos had sat in the night before, now serving as a supportive island halfway to the door. As he gripped the back with his trembling hands, he noticed his clothes were folded in a neat pile on the seat. He took a moment to unfurl his blue jacket. Much like his wound, there was no evidence he had ever been shot in the first place—the bullet hole was mended and the blood stains washed away. Another ravenous pang spurred him onward, and after draping the garment on the chair he exited the small bedroom and stepped out into a wall of humidity.

To say he found himself inside a kitchen wasn't quite accurate. While it had all the usual trappings of such a room, nearly all the available counter space was occupied by an exotic menagerie of plants. A pitched skylight above bathed them in sunshine, broad, life-giving rays toward which they angled like attentive schoolchildren. They sported leaves of all shapes, sizes, and colors and spilled out of clay pots large and small. Some were festooned in vibrant blossoms that perfumed the thick, tepid air. A few even moved of their own volition.

Daxter looked up from the small table where he sat poking the snapping jaws of a carnivorous indigo flower with a fork. "You're awake!" he exclaimed.

Just as Jak nodded an affirmative his strength faltered, and he stumbled and sagged against the wall.

"Woah!" The ottsel jumped down to the olive tiled floor and ran to his side, alarmed. "Should you even be up?!"

"I just need some food," Jak grumbled, waving him off, "I'm starving."

"Alright, alright, but sit yer butt down first." Daxter hovered around his feet as he slowly made his way to the table, waiting until he was safely situated on a stool before leaping up to the stove. A little pot was keeping warm over a low flame. The diminutive animal ladled some of its contents into a waiting bowl and delivered it to the invalid.

"Samos said to give this to you. It's supposed to help ya recover, which probably means it tastes terrible," Daxter said, wrinkling his nose at the porridge.

Jak sipped a small spoonful. It tasted bland but nutty, pleasant enough that his stomach immediately gurgled for more. He proceeded to wolf it down, not caring that he was burning his tongue in the process.

"Woah, not so fast!" Daxter warned, "Samos said if you eat too fast you could make yourself sick."

"Fuck Samos," Jak snarled.

The ottsel clamped his furry lips together, unsure of how to respond. Normally he was the first in line to complain about the crusty old sage, but the current situation was anything but—he had never seen his friend so furious with their teacher. Deciding silence was prudent, he drummed his gloved paws on the tabletop and pretended nothing was said at all.

For his part, Jak felt bad enough for snapping that he marginally slowed his pace. "How long was I out this time?"

"Less than a day. It's a little after four in the afternoon." Daxter tapped his wrist as though he wore a watch.

Jak shook his head between bites, amazed.

"What?"

"I can't believe I've spent most of the last forty-eight hours sleeping."

"I can. You were bleeding out like a stuck hip hog. Yer lucky those dark eco powers of yours include super healing or I'd have to find a new best buddy."

"If I didn't have them in the first place Samos could've taken care of it on the spot," the blonde countered.

"Yeah, maybe," Daxter trailed off, contemplating the point, "But he was already pretty drained from his showdown with… well, you. And there were a lot of other injured folks. Guess you were in such rough shape you would've gotten first priority though."

For the first time since he started eating, Jak's spoon stopped, clanking against his bowl. "I fought with Samos?"

"Yep. You weren't changing back like you usually do, so he tried to stop you. If Keira hadn't gotten in the middle you might've…" Though the sentence went unfinished, the meaning was clear. Would his transformation have ended in time if it was Samos's flesh his claws were tearing asunder?

Rather than dwell on such a grim line of thinking, Jak elected to focus solely on his meal. For a few moments, the only sound was the clinking and scraping of his utensil.

"So," the ottsel began in a conciliatory tone, "the talk with ol' log on the head didn't go so great."

"Nope," Jak firmly responded. He had no intention of rehashing the confrontation, and Daxter was wise enough not to press him further.

"Well, you just missed Keira. She left here with him and the Shadow ten minutes ago."

Again, Jak stopped eating. The thought of the green-haired girl made his chest tighten painfully, and he stared at his orange friend with wide eyes. "Keira was here?"

"Yeah, she—"

"Was she alright?"

"She was, and—"

"How did she look?"

"Would you just let me talk?" Daxter admonished before continuing, "She seemed kinda low, but her arm's just like new. She sat with ya for a few minutes."

Jak waited for the ottsel to elaborate, his foot jiggling with impatience. When a few beats passed he prompted, "And?"

" 'And' what? She sat there while Tweedlegreen and Tweedlegrump talked about the Life Seed and didn't say anything! All she did was stare at you."

Jak imagined what emotions might have played across Keira's beautiful face—worry, sadness, maybe ambivalence. Hopefully not disdain. His throat constricted as he considered his own warring visions of her. Corrosive memories of the illusion inside Mar's Tomb bubbled up like acid, making it all too easy to picture her looking upon him with contempt. He couldn't stop himself from asking, "How did she stare at me?"

Daxter indignantly threw up his paws, griping, "I don't know, she was hard to read! If you're so curious you should just ask her yourself!"

Though it was a flippant suggestion, Jak considered it very seriously. After what he did to her during the raid, the thought of facing Keira filled him with anything but anticipation. Indeed, he was gripped by such powerful dread that his first instinct was to avoid her at all costs, and yet… He couldn't run away from her anymore, as he had ever since practically the moment she stepped into Headquarters. If he did so now, having committed such an unforgivable sin, he wouldn't be able to live with himself. No matter how his worst impulses attempted to sway him, no matter how afraid he was, he had to see her.

"One more question," Jak finally, reluctantly replied, "Where did they go?"

"The Great Tree in Haven Forest. Keira and Tess got the Life Seed from Samos' hut yesterday, and now they're gonna use it for some ceremony. Apparently, it'll give young Samos his sagely powers." The ottsel said the words with mocking derision. "Just imagine… Today's the day Samos becomes the mystical pain in the butt we've known all these years." He shivered in disgust.

"Alright then, we're going too," Jak declared as he stood on shaky legs.

"What? Why?!"

"Like you said, if I'm so curious I should ask Keira myself."

"I didn't mean you should literally go see her right this second! No way I'm letting you out of here, big guy. You're in no shape to leave right now!"

"We're going," Jak repeated as he turned to get dressed. He would brook no argument. He had to know she was alright.

"Is this really necessary?" the Shadow asked, eyeing the mountain warp gate with suspicion. "He could just use his powers to float me up to the top of the canyon, and then I could skip this teleporting business entirely."

"Absolutely not," the Sage of Green Eco countered, his voice gruff, "You're much too heavy for me to carry you such a distance."

The younger Samos tugged his waistcoat down his potbelly with an indignant harrumph. "I suppose I am asking too much of a man as old as yourself. You're almost dead anyway."

"Well, if you'd taken better care of yourself, I wouldn't be in the state I am now!"

Torn sighed in irritation, as weary as any parent of squabbling children might be. "What was the point of repairing the warp gate in the forest of you're not going to use it?"

"Oh, he will," Keira said, saving an especially stern glare for her father, "They both will."

Given that her words were in part directed at the leader of the Underground she wondered if she was being too bold, but she soon dismissed the concern. Perhaps she was more assertive now that she once again wore Vivian's jacket—she had labored for hours cleaning and stitching up the bloodied outerwear to the best of her abilities.

Having just set the warp gate's destination, she dusted off her hands and gestured at the swirling ring of aqua energy with exaggerated pomp. "After you, gentlemen."

Torn led the way, and though they continued grumbling both little green men obediently followed suit. Keira was the last to leap through, and she dove in head first. Time and space folded in on itself as she cut, weightless, through the sparkling current of the rift. Much like water, her hair, skin, and even clothes became saturated with energy, tingling and tickling until she was covered in gooseflesh. She didn't share her father's antipathy for teleporting, but it was a strange enough sensation that she could never stop herself from holding her breath. Her lungs were just starting to protest when she reached a burst of white light that marked the other side, and she somersaulted onto the soft grass of the forest floor.

Not everyone had such a graceful landing. The log atop the elder Samos' head had gone askew, and the younger brushed dirt off his rump. Once they regrouped, the quartet set off through the towering trees. No one spoke, but Keira didn't mind. She was enjoying walking in companionable silence beside her father, and there was more than enough natural beauty to hold her interest. The late afternoon light had shifted to a golden, buttery hue, casting the forest in a warm glow. The natural particulate of the lush air lazily danced through the sunbeams along with flutterflies and other winged insects. Most striking of all were the leaves shielding the western sun, blazing like thousands of paper lanterns.

After a bend in the path, their destination came into view. Atop a steep hill crowned in Precursor ramparts sat a deciduous giant, the Great Tree. For countless generations, it had stood watch over the forest, a grand sentinel of an ancient world. Its gnarled trunk was wider than most streets, and its leafy crown rose far above the rest of the canopy. The closer they drew to it the more dominating its presence became. When they set foot on the gently curving ramp that led up to its base, the tree's twisting branches already loomed directly overhead. Keira's attention became lost in the rich tapestry of leaves as they made their final ascent.

Upon reaching the top, she was wrenched back into the present when Torn's trigger hand flew to his holstered pistol. "What is this?" he exclaimed.

To everyone's utter shock, Jak and Daxter were waiting under the tree, a massive root serving them as a bench of sorts.

"Great yakow horns!" the elder Samos cried, "What are you doing here? We left you at the house less than an hour ago!"

"You guys must've taken the scenic route. We thought you'd beat us here for sure," Jak said with a triumphant smirk. Although the journey to the Great Tree had been harrowing in his weakened state, the young renegade shrugged as though it were nothing. "Anyway, I needed some exercise."

" 'Exercise'? You shouldn't be out of bed!"

"I told him," Daxter asserted, "I told him we shouldn't go anywhere!"

The ottsel stumbled when Jak elbowed him to stop.

Torn looked as though he might pull his firearm out at any second, and he stepped in front of Keira and the time twins in a protective stance, his smoky voice radiating menace. "Are you going to go berserk again?"

There wasn't a trace of humor in the younger man's face when he retorted, "Why don't you make me angry and find out?"

"Boys, boys," the Shadow placated, "there's no need to do anything rash."

"Too bad he didn't think of that when he shot me," Jak growled.

"The Underground has no use for freaks who turn on their fellow soldiers," Torn spat back.

Jak made to stand up, but he did so too aggressively and fell back onto the tree root with a thud. Samos exclaimed his admonishment, but the blonde waved him off. Moving with greater care, he stood and firmly planted his feet, doing his level best to project strength. "I'm feeling fine. I just… felt like I should be here for this."

Young and old Samos exchanged an unconvinced look while Torn, still gripping his gun, watched Jak like a hawk. Keira also stared at him, and given how evasive he was by default she was taken aback when his eyes found and held hers. Though there was an underlying diffidence, his gaze was as searching and unyielding as a pair of cobalt spotlights. Unable to endure it, she focused on the ground instead and felt like a coward for it.

"Well we don't have time for dawdling," Samos said, sounding especially cantankerous, "let's get going." And with that, he began to instruct the Shadow on what to do with the Life Seed.

Keira tensed when she heard footsteps. Jak approached her, his movements stiff and unsteady, and she could scarcely believe he had left his bed. It was plain as day how poor his condition still was. Annoyance that he would be so careless with himself flared inside her like a lit match, and she crossed her arms defensively.

"Keira," he said by way of greeting, his countenance now meek.

She waited.

He looked like he had no idea what to say. After some deliberation, he settled on, "How are you?"

"I'm alright. Better than you it seems," she replied more tartly than she meant to.

"Like I said, I'm feeling fine," he lied.

"Oh come on, Jak, you look like you're about to fall over. You almost died." Vivid memories of the ghastly ordeal came crashing back like boulders tossed by a cyclone. Her screaming his name over and over. Him laying unresponsive in a pool of dark blood. She involuntarily convulsed, her lips curling back in distress. "...You should take better care of yourself."

"Well," Jak muttered as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, "I needed to talk to you. And not over a communicator."

At that Keira's breath caught in her throat. Surely he meant to bring up how he had lost control and injured her, and she became acutely aware of the visible mending on her jacket sleeve. The experience had so rocked her she had done nothing but avoid any and all discussion of it, even with her father. She knew enough about the distorting dangers of dark eco to understand that if Jak bled the substance and could transform into some sort of berserker then it didn't necessarily follow that he meant her harm. More likely than not she was collateral damage, a tragic casualty of an impossible situation. Even so, she was plagued by doubt. There was once a time when she believed with her whole heart Jak would never do anything to hurt her, but now—

"Can we…" the blonde interrupted her train of thought, nodding his head toward the ramparts in a sheepish request for her to step away with him.

Keira blinked back, astounded. If her senses weren't deceiving her, he was making his first honest effort to truly connect with her in the roller coaster ride that had been the four days since their reunion. A nervous flush crept up her cheeks, and she began to fiddle with the hem of her jacket. Hoping she wasn't too obviously flustered, she spared a glance around the circle and found that no one was paying them much mind. The Shadow sat in a meditative pose, his eyes closed in solemn concentration as the Life Seed hovered in front of him, Daxter was busy examining his claws, and the elder Samos engaged Torn in low conversation. Whether the sage was making an effort to relieve some of the ex-KG commander's tension or attempting to give his daughter some semblance of privacy wasn't clear. Regardless, the only person stopping her now was herself.

Without looking Jak in the eye, Keira ambled away from the group in silent acceptance. He followed, but his continuing silence elicited a restless sigh. "What did you need to talk about?"

He hesitated, again at a loss for words. "...About your arm—"

"You wouldn't have done it if I hadn't jumped in the way," she cut him off.

"I… I'm not sure," he admitted, his voice tremulous, "I've only ever attacked the Baron's forces in the past, but… I never remember what happens."

She could see him repeatedly clenching his fist in her peripheral vision, a further sign of how agitated he must be. Still, she was determined to stare elsewhere, in the general direction of the ramparts.

"I just want to say—"

"You don't have to say anything. I think—I know that wasn't you."

"That's no excuse!"

He said it with such force that she looked up and was captured by his intense blue gaze. There was something about the way he looked at her that sparked a glimmer of hope in her aching chest.

Jak took a deep breath, gathering himself. "...I'm sorry."

They were only two little words, and yet his remorse was so earnest and his vulnerability so naked that Keira's hope was realized. At last, he looked not like the hardened renegade of Haven City but the kind hero of Sandover Village. He wasn't totally lost to her after all. Her heart swelled, and without even being aware of it she beamed a radiant smile of forgiveness.

Before either of them could say anything else an ethereal resonance drew their attention back to the foot of the Great Tree. The Shadow was levitating, the Life Seed's energy swirling into him until his flesh glowed a brilliant lime green. His brow was deeply furrowed, his closed eyes rolling back and forth as though he were having a nightmare. The sound and light built together in a final, powerful crescendo before dissipating as quickly as they had come, and Samos gently touched back down on the soft ground. The transference was over.

When he opened his eyes they shimmered an otherworldly chartreuse, and he appeared to still be far away. He began to speak, his pace slow, "The Life Seed gave me a terrible vision… The Baron is planning to destroy the Precursor Stone. He aims to crack it open somehow. If he does this, the energy released will be beyond comprehension." With every word his volume and urgency gradually increased. "It will destroy the world and more… ending all life. The plants are crying out for protection! We must stop the Baron! Stop him, however we can!"

The Shadow looked expectantly around the circle and was met with blank shock. No one knew what to say to such overwhelming, grave tidings.

"...We're already doing everything we can with what resources we have," Torn said, tiredly running his hand down his tattooed face.

"There has to be something we haven't thought of!" the afroed man demanded.

The only response came from the birds placidly chirping in the canopy above.

He rounded on his older self. "Surely there's something useful you can tell us!"

Samos only shook his head, eyes closed and mouth clamped shut. He would not cross the line of revealing the future.

The Shadow cursed in frustration and proceeded to nervously pace across the grass.

"Well," Keira began, drawing everyone's attention, "we could win the NYFE Racing Championship."

"...What would that accomplish?" Torn asked.

"It would provide us an opportunity to get up close and personal with Praxis in the winner's circle."

"And how exactly are we going to do that with only two races to go and no driver?" The ex-KG commander's pale eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

"Actually," Keira swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, "we already have one."

Taking the cue, Jak stepped up beside her and stood akimbo. She straightened her shoulders, bolstered by his solidarity.

Torn looked back and forth between the two of them, nostrils flaring and a vein throbbing in his temple. He appeared on the verge of flying into an apoplectic rage. "Just how many races has he competed in?"

"Enough that if he places second or better in the final two races he's clinched the title," Daxter answered, joining his friends with his chest puffed up.

"He can barely stand right now, and you expect me to believe that he's just going to sweep everything right at the end of the season?!" the Underground strategist yelled, gesturing with such violence that his auburn dreadlocks swung about, "Never mind that you'll be a sitting duck in the middle of the stadium—this is no better than a suicide mission!"

Jak retorted, "You hate me anyway, right, so what do you care if I get killed?"

"Which he won't," Keira interjected, "I've got some R&D in mind to make sure of that, and if it doesn't pan out we can pull the plug. Either way, opportunities like this don't come around often."

Torn stared at the trio, his chest heaving with fury, before turning to the Shadow. "What do you think of this insanity?!"

The little green man adjusted his spectacles. "I think we need every chance we can get, even if it's one of the longest shots I've ever heard of."

Outraged and outranked, Torn sneered and turned away to fume in silence.

Though she had a feeling she'd regret it, Keira pointed out, "Lucky for us, there's more we can do to improve our chances. We just got ourselves the perfect coach."

Her statement was unexpected enough that the entire group shot her a round of perplexed glances.

"A 'coach'?" Daxter echoed.

"Who do you mean?" the Shadow asked.

Summoning all her confidence, she answered, "Ryker."

A/N: Huzzah, I did a fully screentoned illustration for the first time in forever! I'm always drawing such miserable and/or dramatic moments, so this time I spotlit a happy one with Keira's smile. :) (htt*ps:/*/*im*gur.c*om*/*a/Hopu6dr)