A/N: Hello everybody! Thanks for review and general lovage :D not much to say. Same disclaimers apply. Or no Chapter 29. ~ Mika

Jak clung onto the huge gun on top of Sig's car for dear life as it roared through the Wasteland. He swung it around, firing on various stray Marauders as they approached from several miles away, ripples of satisfaction running through his veins as their cars flipped and exploded, often against each other, which amused him greatly. He was having far too much fun taking Marauders out, so he was immensely disappointed when Sig's car suddenly jerked and screeched to a halt, almost throwing Jak off the gun. He hopped down onto the sandy ground with a thump, Daxter unbuckling and scooting back onto the taller man's shoulder, face paler than winter snow. Or it would have been if he was human.

"Enjoy that, Dax?" Jak asked, a smirk on his face.

The ottsel responded with a narrow-eyed glare and a caustic "Always, Jak!"

"Father!" a rough and young but distinctly female voice cried joyfully. Jak's head snapped to the source of the voice and his heart burst with wordless joy as he saw Jakuelynn – not Keira, not Keira – alive, well and, most importantly, with her Morph Gun strapped to her back. She ran to greet him but inexplicably stopped short before him, defensive.

"Jakuelynn, come here!" Jak whispered, his voice breaking as his arms clenched tightly around his daughter. He held her tightly, squeezing his eyes shut to fight the tears as she released hers, dampening his red scarf. "H-how are you still alive, little one?" he whispered.

"The kindness of strangers, Father." Jakuelynn sniffed as she released her father, furiously wiping her eyes, the warrior blood in her surging, hiding the emotional side she'd just displayed. "R-Rufas? How is he? How's my son?"

"Relax, Nelly. He's fine. Getting more and more handsome every day. He smiled at me the other day." Jak felt his features soften as he remembered the memory.

Jakuelynn's heart fell. His first smile and...I wasn't there? "You promise?" Her pupils were contracted in hysteria as the maternal instinct took over.

"Nel, have I ever lied to you?" Jak reasoned.

"N-no," she replied, her pupils returning to normal size. She turned, spotting Damas emerge from the cave with Seem and the children, joining herself and Jak. Tell him, a little voice said in the back of her mind. "Father, this is – " Damas, your long lost son. "This is Saldam Ar'Aigham. He's the man who's been taking care of me. And his children – " Your granddaughter and grandsons. She indicated each one with their respective names. "Oreyn, Kieron and Jayelle." She smiled at them in response to the uncertainty on their faces. "It's okay. He's not here to hurt us. This is Jak. My father." Your grandfather.

"It's okay, children." Damas whispered, careful not to say any more. "Good to meet you, Jak," he said, a warm smile on his face. Something about him made Jak freeze as a chill of recognition ran up his spine and reached his brain. This recognition reached his heart, making it twist in a way he had not felt since he was reunited with Jakuelynn.

"N-nice to meet you too, Saldam," the veteran warrior stuttered, failing to keep his emotion in check as the twist throbbed with every heartbeat. He didn't know why this feeling suddenly blossomed in his heart. He just couldn't put his finger on it. "I hear you've been taking care of my daughter?"

"Of course I have," Damas said warmly. She's my sister. Why wouldn't I?

"Well...that's good," Jak said feebly.

Jakuelynn broke in. "I would offer you something to eat, Father, but – "

"We don't have many supplies left," Damas admitted, eerily finishing Jakuelynn's sentence. She gave him a look that mystified the veteran.

"Why didn't you say? Could've picked some up before we took off to you guys," Sig interjected, the lack of personal pronoun making the last half of the statement ambiguous as to whom he was referring to.

"We'll live," Jakuelynn shrugged. "We've got bigger obstacles. Like the fact that the Metal Head and humanoid factions have stopped making noise at the ruins,"

Jak's eyes widened. "They stopped?"

"Yeah, around eight," his daughter replied. "It's more than likely to mean that they've finally reached the Eco crates – "

"Then what the fuck are we doing here?" Jak interjected frustratedly. "Why don't we go say hello to these things?"

Jakuelynn grinned. "C'mon then, Big Daddy. Let's go say hello with a coupl'a friends of ours..."

~x~

Back in Sandover City, Nuala Ghosten listened to the silence of her empty house, her heart once again heavy. She had had another vision – or was it a dream? – regarding someone who was either her dead son, thirty years older and in full uniform or her husband, presumed dead. She turned her head, resting her black eyes on a school photo of Deimin. It had been taken in his final year of school, aged sixteen and two Seasons, when he'd insisted on having long hair which made him look more sullen and anti-social than he already did. Nuala chuckled at the memory, yet tears touched her eyes. She missed him terribly and she'd only met baby Rufas once or twice; it was, however, enough to understand her visions about him.

She also thought about Jakuelynn, whom she hadn't seen since the last time she'd seen Rufas. The young woman was finally talking – a breakthrough, according to Jak – but the anger and sadness was still very much present in her eyes, taking the form of darkness swirling in her green irises. She was understood to have also rejected all attempts at physical comfort in those nine or ten months, which at the time contrasted and battled strongly with Nuala's urges to reach out, take the young woman in her arms and hold her so tightly that she would break; that she would admit her softer side.

The clairvoyant shook her head, pulling her coat tightly about her. She would finally get out the house today; go and see her mother and that annoying bird who talked for her. Nuala considered that he was in effect needed, her mother having been involved an accident had left her both blind and mute when Nuala was very young. The clairvoyant locked the doors and hurried out to the Bazaar, the famed tent instantly recognisable.

"Ah, Nuala. Onin welcomes you...blah blah blah...asks about you...asks about her granddaughters and great-grandson...all the usual boring salutations,"

"Everything's as well as it can be, Onin. As for Rufas...I haven't seen him in weeks. He'd be a full Season old now."

Pecker flapped a wing in contempt. He restrained himself when Nuala was here. "That's grrreat and all, but Onin wants to know if – aaark! – you have seen Eraux in your own visions recently?"

By now, Nuala shouldn't be surprised that her mother knew of her visions, but she was. Each and every time. "Yes...yes, I have. But why? He was declared legally dead a decade ago."

Pecker bent down to read Onin's hands, rapidly translating as he went along. "Onin says...the actions always defy the words, and those whom you have lost may be closer than you think...Okay lady, that's enough from you."

"What, Mother? You're saying Eraux is alive?"

Pecker sighed, rattling off more translations. "Onin says to follow your heart and you will find what you're looking for. Oh, and the Viking Queen will return it to you at the gates of...Who's the Viking Queen? Anyway, the gates of home."

"Jakuelynn," Nuala answered, reeling back from the shock of what she'd just heard. Jakuelynn is alive? She's going to bring my husband back to me?

"Huh? Weell...that doesn't surprrrise me," Pecker grumbled sceptically. Before he could open his beak to tell her to go, Nuala was gone, the settling of the tent flap and a trail of footprints the sole indications that she'd ever been there.