Chapter thirty-five, Confrontation, Round Two

'

Begin Introspection. Serial code: Sig.

'

Well, it's been four days. I'm kinda missing my communicator. It makes life easier, stayin' in touch and not worryin' about missing orders. But I won't be caught dead asking Damas to give it back. I dun like one bit that he's still thinkin', though.

It ain't like him to think so much. Makes me nervous he ain't gonna make that call.

I ain't religious… I was raised right to respect the monks and what they said, but also to depend on things I can see and feel. But… if you'd hear this one single prayer of my life, Precursors… let this one thing turn out right. We've gone through so much, it's cost so much. Don't let it all be for nothin'.

'

End Introspection.

'

When he first saw the neatly tucked up bed and simple camp cot in their room, Daxter wondered if there would be another sudden step. Until then he hadn't even thought about it, but after the last few days it seemed obvious they would still sleep together – right? But sharing a bed seemed a wee bit more intimate than sleeping on mats beside each other. Of course he didn't want to say that out loud, though.

Calling dibs on the shower gave him a little more time to think, but the warm water clearing away remains of salt along with the usual sweat and dirt from him wasn't as distracting as he might have wished. He still felt confused when he walked out, in a fresh change of clean clothes and rubbing his damp hair with a towel.

Jak sat on the side of the cot, waiting for him. He had folded up the blanket on it. Not saying a word aloud, yet offering to sleep on that himself if Daxter preferred it.

The sight of that made Daxter's shoulders drop.

"Dammit, were you always this charming or did I never notice?" he said with a chortle, slapping the towel over his shoulder as he walked over.

"I'm trying real hard," Jak said with a slight grin.

Daxter had to laugh at that, both of them relaxing completely. Finishing that, Daxter tilted his head and looked at Jak.

"Ya know I trust you, right?" he said.

The only response – the only one needed – was in Jak's eyes as he looked up, smiling.

"Yeah, so, just try not to squeeze the stuffing outta me like your old crocadog pillow, okay?" They exchanged a grin, then Daxter jabbed a thumb towards the bathroom. "Now git in there, you need it as much as I did. Phew!"

While Jak showered, Daxter flopped down on the camp cot and twisted and turned several times, then flung the blanket so that it half hung down to the floor. Satisfied that it would keep the cleaning crew from starting to whisper amongst themselves, he crawled into bed. If it was any different, they'd find out.

Now, three nights later, he had concluded that it was a lot more intimate, even with soft pants and tunics on. Well, it felt like it, at least. Jak didn't do a motion different than when they were in Spargus, simply resting an arm over Daxter's stomach or chest. And really, Daxter couldn't recall sleeping this well since the time he was an ottsel. Even better, he noted that Jak seemed a lot more rested as well.

Which was a very good thing, because Torn and Ashelin made sure to fill their days with a lot of running about and blasting stuff. At times it was just picking things up or dumping things in the metal head or bot section of the city – most of the time without saying much about what the stuff actually was. But it probably served some important purpose, considering they didn't let just anybody handle it.

It all went unusually smooth, though Daxter had to practice his aiming on more than one occasion.

Even though every evening was a blessing promising sleep, he did take the time to check in on Tess and spill the beans, late in the second day. It was so embarrassing that he didn't even want to talk to Jak about it afterwards – who had wisely opted to stay the heck away. For all her squealing flailing, though, it was genuine happiness for both of them and he felt that most of all.

It was after lunch on the fourth day that Samos called them to ask them to check on the forest. He said that some of the green eco vents had suddenly become clogged – not that unusual when there were heavy rains or a lot of leaves falling, but it had happened suspiciously quick. The plants were too dozy from their approaching winter rest that they could not tell him much more than that there was something moving around in the forest.

And he felt that since Jak and Daxter were already making a round in that direction, they could make themselves a little more useful.

And so the duo found themselves standing on the sloping hill leading down into the autumnal landscape as the door closed behind them. Blazing reds and yellows rolled beneath the clear blue sky, but only a few birds chirped amongst the leaves. The smart ones had left, after all.

"Clogged vents!" Daxter said for the sixth time. "Did you sign a contract to become a janitor? 'Cause I didn't!"

"He's probably just paranoid because of the Precursor tech here," Jak commented.

"Uhuh. Like anything could put a dent in those pillars. And I think that telescope kinda served it's purpose, we already know that freakin' ship is coming!"

Jak shrugged and unfolded his morph gun.

"Stay sharp," he said and started down the trail. Sighing, Daxter drew one of his guns and followed.

They went down into the forest and walked between the trees for a while until they found one of the vents, just about where Samos had estimated the problem to be on the digital map in Jak's communicator. Whoever the scoundrel was, they hadn't bothered to hide their work very well, just tossed some leaves over the grate and left. Jak hunched down and wiped the leaves and dirt away, only finding more dirt beneath. It had been clumsily shoveled down – the ground by the grate was torn up by what looked like claws.

A little bit of green eco drifted out through the cracks in the dirt, making his hand feel pleasantly warm as he reached out. It drifted towards him until he pulled back.

"Since when do metal head pull kid pranks?" Daxter wondered aloud, a little more tense now than he had been before.

"Not sure it's metal heads," Jak muttered, narrowing his eyes at the marks in the ground. They were too even.

Looking back to the grate and the oddly shaped bolts that held it stuck, he concluded that somebody else would have to open it up to clean it. As long as the forest was secure, Keira could do it – though he didn't really like the idea of her crossing the metal head section, and he knew full well that Samos would blow a root at the mere suggestion.

Either way…

"Not much we can do about this," he said and stood. "Let's see if we can find whoever did it."

Daxter let out a noise of complaint, but followed him.

They walked deeper, reaching the lake. The warm sunlight broke through the shadows of the trees and glistened on the water and the warm orange of the Precursor metal pillars proudly rising from the lake's depths.

Even Daxter had to admit that it wasn't too unpleasant for an excursion, at least so far.

They continued around the lake – would have used their jet boards but since they didn't know what they were looking for, it was better to not slip around haphazardly and too quick. At least since Daxter hadn't gotten much time to practice with his board, and with an unknown hostile around it didn't seem like a good idea to start.

"Hey, I've got an idea!" Daxter suddenly said, raising a hand with his pointing finger stretched in a theatrical incoming-genius pose. "Why don't we split up to cover more ground?"

Jak turned around and gave him a long look. Daxter stared back.

Then they both snorted in amusement and continued on, side by side.

As the sky turned yellow and began to darken, though, their patience began to run thin despite the nice day. They'd pretty much toured the forest and nothing had jumped out to try biting their faces off.

With a grunt, Jak stopped and Daxter did the same, looking hopefully at him. Time to give up and go home and nap?

"Keep a lookout while I call Samos to ask if he's got anything new to share," Jak said, folding up the morph gun as he spoke. He hung it on his back to have both hands free for the communicator.

Daxter took a step back and turned his face up, gazing towards the deep blue sky above. A pale half moon was rising already and the air felt cool and easy to breathe, the autumn leaves whispering all around them. Well, he couldn't complain about the scenery, when he took a moment to stop and just experience it. The autumns in Sandover had been sparkling with color too, but they had also been brief – as had the boring winters, mercifully.

While Jak started dialing on the communicator, Daxter's thoughts wandered for a bit, distracted by the peaceful surroundings. Well, he was keeping an eye out either way, right?

And then a KG bot swooped down, shooting an iron band from its hand. It closed around Daxter's wrist, still attached to the robot by a thick rope. And the peace was shattered.

"Hey!" Daxter shrieked, spinning around and fumbling for his other gun with the hand that was still free. Then he shrieked again as the rope violently stretched, ripping Daxter from the ground and up to the hovering robot. The gun fell from his hand and disappeared into the grass.

"Dax!" Jak snarled, snatching his morph gun back in his grip as the communicator thumped against his thigh. It would have fallen into the grass if it hadn't been hanging by his belt with a string.

"Hello, boys," came an all too familiar voice from the faceless robot, crackling through the speakers which somebody had seen fit to install on a murder drone.

Jak would have fired, but the robot dangled the struggling Daxter in front of itself, making it impossible for Jak to shoot. Even at this close range, there was no way he'd take the risk and their enemy had obviously counted on that. He stood frozen, snarl on his lips.

"Oh, Mr. Tin-Can-Man," Daxter snapped with a hardly suppressed wince, kicking uselessly at the robot. He'd almost gotten his other gun out of the holster but the sudden pull had made his grip slip. At least it was still within reach… "We have got to stop meeting like this!"

He tried to grab his gun again but received a warning shake.

"I see that my cameras weren't glitching back in the cave," Erol commented, as calm as anything. "Though being a rat suited you better."

Oops. Daxter winced.

"Erol!" Jak snarled. The demand to release the prisoner laced his voice, but all of them knew that it was useless to speak it.

At first Erol didn't respond, as if waiting to see if Jak would voluntarily surrender in a bid to save his friend, again. Because it worked so well last time. But when there was no offer, he let the robot give Daxter a shake, making him cry out as his strained arm and shoulder were jolted.

"What, this scrawny thing was so important to you?" Erol asked, amused. "He's like a little fairy, with buckteeth."

"Well, at least I ain't a walking garbage chute!" Daxter winced, trying to put on a brave show. Jak would get him down. Somehow.

Erol ignored him.

"But I get it now," he said, thoughtfully. "It's the hair."

Daxter happened to glance down, and saw Jak freeze, panic blazing in his eyes. His lips moved, dangerously close to forming a useless "no".

"That's why you called me Daxter, that first time you spoke up."

Daxter's dazed "Huh?" drowned in Jak's roar and the crackle of eco. The morph gun thumped into the grass and Dark Jak streaked across the ground, snarling like a maddened beast. He leapt onto a rock, from it onto a tree branch and launched himself through the air. But the robot swept out of the way and flew deeper into the forest, towards the lake… in a straight line for the walls separating the forest from the metal head infested part of the city.

The wind howled in Daxter's ears and his arm hurt so much that black dots danced in front of his eyes, but he grit his teeth and fumbled for his other gun. They were so far up that he knew he'd break several bone if he was dropped now, but he could see the lake glisten just ahead.

"H-hey!" he gasped. "Won't there even be an in-flight movie?"

Joking made his own head clear and distracted him. His fingers curled around the familiar metal of the gun…

"You're such a jester," Erol said with a scoff.

On the last word, Daxter shot the robot straight through the "head" at point blank. There was a violent crackle from within, and then the jet pack faltered. Momentum carried them forwards a few feet longer, then the plummet began. Daxter saw a glimmer of the moon in the water, just before the world exploded in bubbles and darkness.

He'd managed to take in a deep breath before he hit the water, and childhood training of diving from increasingly stupid-high spots helped him to keep it through the shock of crashing into the ice cold water. His knees hit a rock and he scrambled for it, using it to shoot himself upwards. Breaking the surface, the chilly air tore at his wet body but it felt like heaven.

The rocky beach was a mish-mash of nooks and crannies to stumble on and get his feet stuck in, and he was half blind because of the water in his eyes. He raised his hand to wipe it out…

And realized that the metal band was still tight around his wrist. Glancing around, he saw a thick line sagging behind him into the water, still connected with the red blur beneath the surface. Well, at least the rope hadn't stayed inside the robots arm… he didn't want to think about the alternative.

Another realization struck him twice as hard. He had lost his remaining gun when he hit the lake. It might still be useable if Tess had constructed it to survive a bath, but it was also colored just like the rocks. He'd never be able to find it in the water, in this poor light.

"Crap, crap, crapcrapcrap…!"

He made a mental note to add a small dagger to his arsenal when he got out of this. Would've been pretty sweet right now. But first things first. He scrambled on through the cold water, teeth chattering as the gentle evening wind clawed freezing needles through his wet clothes.

"Jak!" he called out, hoping for the best. "Jak, over here!"

A distant roar answered him, and his gut did a back flip at the pure fury he heard in Jak's voice. Erol had really gotten him this time. And when he reflected on what the cyborg had said, it dawned on Daxter just how humiliating it must have been for Jak to mistake the person he hated the most, for the one he loved the most.

His head dropped and he rubbed his forehead. Water sloshed around his dripping boots as he finally reached the shore and started up it, the grass reaching to his ankles. It seemed the rope was pretty long, at least. He got several yards away from the lake before it stretched and forced him to stop. With a grunt he looked around and glared at it, then sunk down in the grass to wait for Jak.

And then he heard a whirr. He snapped up, seeing a crocadog-sized, spindly robot drop from a treetop like a metallic, red bug. It skittered towards him and Daxter reached for his guns without thinking, only to be reminded again that he had lost both of them.

"Maybe you'd have better luck with a bow and arrow?" Erol's voice crackled from the robot.

"Did you spend all week installing speakers on your leftover toys?" Daxter snarled, moving his feet apart to prepare bolting. The rope would limit where he could go but it was still a fairly large range... hopefully he could dodge the bot until Jak got there. "You need a hobby."

"Perhaps," Erol said. "How about angling?"

The rope suddenly snapped taught and Daxter yelped as it tore at him, dragging him several inches back towards the water. Towards the cold depths where the robot lay.

"Think we can go Jak-fishing, kid?" Erol asked. And a soft laugh, almost a giggle. "I know that, technically, you're not a fish, but I don't mind using you as bait."

"Do ya also know that you're really lacking in the humor department, among all your other faults?" Daxter grit out, digging his heels into the soft earth. It only created a pair of scratches in the grass as he was yanked yet another little bit closer to the water.

"Oh, we just have different tastes when it comes to what's funny, that's all," Erol said. "Want to hear another joke, since we're waiting for Jak?"

"No thanks, I've got my own and they're way better than yours."

"I think you'll like this. It's a smart one, made by scientists even."

There was a soft beep, and a tinny murmur rose from the robot's speakers. Even when the words were unintelligible, they were so familiar that Daxter instantly recognized it. It was he himself, calling out to Jak, saying he'd been looking for two years and say something, just this once!

Premonition boiled in his gut, even though he had no idea what was happening.

"Did you hear something?" somebody on the recording said, just as Jak snarled his promise to kill Baron Praxis.

"Eh? What's that rat doing there?" another voice said. "Commander, should we send somebody down there?"

"Over a rat––?" Erol's voice started, annoyed, but then there was a hollow, panicked beeping.

"Bio readings show increased eco activity. Eco level at 50 percent," a female computer voice drawled. "110 percent. 170 percent…"

"What the––"

And Jak's distant roar in the background as he for the first time transformed into his Dark form.

"How in the hell–– the readings were normal a minute ago! Did something trigger it?"

"Was it the rat?"

Daxter felt something break inside of him.

"N-no...!" he gasped, shaking his head furiously. "Why should that––"

But dark eco had transformed him. And Jak had been pumped full of it.

Maybe… maybe…?

His head spun.

"How would I know?" Erol said, shutting off the recording with the supposed scientists screaming about what had happened to Jak. "But even I have to admit that it's strange that everything was normal minutes before you touched him."

"Oh you think this is a riot, don't you?" Daxter snapped, swallowing hard against the thick, choking lump in his throat.

"Yes, I just love to play with little boys like you," Erol drawled.

Daxter's stomach roiled.

"Y-ya d-don't have t' tell me th-that, the word's all over the street." He gritted it through his teeth, wishing the stutter hadn't been so loud.

Erol chuckled.

"He mentioned that already, did he? Pity."

"Sicko!"

"You're the master of insults, aren't you? Know when you're outclassed, boy."

Daxter opened his mouth, but then Jak broke through the bushes some ways away. The sight of Daxter froze him for half a second, but then he rushed forwards again, passing between two trees.

Something dark fell from the tree tops, and Daxter couldn't shout a warning quick enough to stop Jak's dash. The darkness fell over him and he tumbled forwards, kicking and clawing – and for every wild movement only entangling himself more in the––

Daxter almost laughed hysterically.

"Is that your best? A freakin' net?" he blurted out. "Remember when you threw the whole army at him in the water slums?"

"Oh no, not just a net."

Of course it wasn't. Should have figured.

Jak's claws had already cut apart several of the thick ropes but he was still wrapped in it, and in his current frenzy he would have trouble getting loose, that much was apparent. Another small, bug-like robot dropped down.

"Shit–– Jak! Look out, it's––"

The robot hooked its dagger-like front legs into the net. A click, and then electricity danced from it, little lightning bolts dancing through every tangled rope around Jak's body. He howled in pain, arching upwards as his muscles spasmed. Somehow found the strength to swipe at the robot when it for a second let up.

But two more dropped down and the air filled with crackles and Jak's roar. And then nothing.

Jak slumped down with a heavy thump, black eyes closed.

Daxter hardly noticed how he was yanked another little bit closer to the water.

It can't be that easy it can't it can't IT CAN'T

"Well, that's just embarrassing even for a half-wit eco freak," Erol said, voice moved to one of the robots by Jak. "You won't hear me complain, though."

One of the robots shifted, poking its sharp leg at Jak's forehead. He didn't stir.

"Oh, now let's see," Erol muttered, a manic glee creeping into his voice that was nothing of the angry but confident, manipulative man he had once been. This was pure madness. "These little ones can't do much but if they slice up his legs he won't make trouble when I send something to pick him up…"

The horrific monologue became a drone in Daxter's ears as his brain finally caught up with that Erol was completely distracted. The rope had stopped yanking at him, further proving that. A wild plan formed in his head, glancing at the little robot nearby.

He fished out a rock from the water and flung it right into the bot' glossy "eye." The projectile smashed through and the metallic bug went down with a crackling whirr. Not stopping to be amazed at how easy that had been, Daxter snatched up a branch and pulled it within reach so that he could grab the bot by one spindly, sharp leg. A jolt of electricity surged through his arm, but he managed to bite back a cry.

Daxter wrenched the leg loose and caught the rope against a larger rock jutting out of the water. Silently praying to the Precursors to keep the tin can from remembering him, he began sawing himself free with the robot's leg. It was clumsy work – the rope was thick, and the leg was difficult to hold without cutting his own fingers.

Erol did not seem to notice what happened, caught in his loud planning.

"Aah!" Erol let out a demented sigh, purely for show since he had no reason to breathe. "I want to take his eyes but I want him to see…"

The rope snapped and Daxter straightened up, wincing as he saw the blood dripping from his left hand's cut fingers. It was a small issue though. He looked around, wincing as he caught another string of ideas from Erol's rambles.

You're not laying a finger on him, you twisted bastard.

He could see Jak stirring from the swoon, growl building as he remembered where he was. Clawed fingers twitched but he needed a few more moments, just a few… Jak was still so weak and the robots were already moving in to give him another shock, to make sure he stayed down.

"You know, it's funny that you keep calling him freak when you look like something from a low budget horror movie yourself," Daxter said, his voice more high pitched than he had intended. "Do you even have your brain left?" He barked out a fake laugh. "Wait, did you ever have one, what with how you handled losing that final race?"

There was a snarl from the robots and they all turned on him. Daxter hid his right hand behind his back.

"That does remind me," Erol said, his voice low and seething dangerously, "Jak would love listening to you screaming."

"Yeah, probably," Daxter said, managing a fairly honest grin this time. "Speaking of which…" he moved his arm and held it up, revealing that he had freed himself. "… you're still a complete sucker when it counts."

Two of the robots started towards him, but they didn't get far. Jak's fist slammed into the ground and dark energy exploded out in a wave around him, charring the grass in a wide circle – but also frying the robots with dark eco.

The forest fell silent.

Only for a moment though, as Jak snarled and started trying to disentangle himself. Daxter waited another couple of seconds, wanting to make sure that Erol didn't have any more robots at hand. It seemed strange that there would be so few.

But nothing else happened, and he figured that the cyborg had to be too pissed off to not attack with everything he had at hand. Also that was as far as Daxter's shattered patience went.

He rushed over to the thrashing heap on the ground. The robots just laid there like dead, freakish crabs. Daxter ignored them as best he dared.

"Jak!"

The pale head tossed in his direction, pitch black eyes staring up, furious, suspicious. Pale face twisted like a cornered animal's, raw and unthinking.

Minutes before you… before you before you… touched him.

Did I do this to you?

Daxter bit his lip, reaching out.

"Jak, I didn't––!"

His mouth snapped shut at the growl. The dark, trapped creature recoiled from the tanned hand. He still snarled when the arm fell to numbly thump against Daxter's side.

"I… didn't, right?"

The wind gently rattled the leaves around and above them, but knifed at Daxter's soaked body. Jak didn't move.

Swallowing hard, Daxter wrestled down the twisting panic and guilt inside of him. He had to help Jak, first. Then, he might get some answers – though it terrified him to think about what they might be.

Jak had gotten one hand outside of the net, the one he'd used to set off the dark explosion. Now it pressed down, fingers spread and the tip of the claws digging into the blackened earth. He growled, though lower this time, as Daxter leaned forwards.

"Hey, don't gimme none of that nonsense, you ain't no tall, dark stranger," Daxter said. He spoke the jovial words softly, though. Jak shifted his weight uncertainly, teeth still showing but in a confused withdrawal of his pale lips rather than anger.

Daxter carefully moved closer, stretching one hand forwards along the ground, palm down, towards Jak's. The eco-burnt grass crumbled to ash as he touched it, staining his fingers and spreading over the singed ground. Jak's pitch black eyes flicked down towards the hand as it moved into reach, then quickly back to Daxter's face.

"You know me," Daxter said. "I'm the one who doesn't run away."

His fingers drifted over the hand, fingertips brushing its back before he added the palm. Jak laid silent, watching him. Listening.

To Jak, when he changed like this everything seemed to move too quick or too slow, every word too loud, every motion a threat. Except from this one. This one's voice was soft and soothing. It didn't make him want to lash out.

"You're not a monster, Jak."

The hand moved to his cheek and he let it, blue eyes staring into his. He just slowly blinked. Daxter's eyebrows narrowed.

"You're not a monster."

Every syllable stretched out, digging their way into his hazy brain – but gently, not drilling like so many other words had done. Spreading across the hateful voice hissing in the back of his mind, the voice that told him to kill before he got killed, covering it in a veil––

"Not a monster."

– of peace.

The hand left his face, passing the darkness of his eyes without hesitation. He could feel the pressure of fingertips on his horns and they shrunk away, disappearing into the oblivion of his will together with the fangs, claws, pale skin and white hair.

He slumped, all tension fleeing his body and leaving a pounding exhaustion behind. Looking up at Daxter who still watched him in the same way, regardless of what he looked like.

"Hey, welcome back," Daxter said, but his voice cracked with relief and his shoulders slumped.

Jak just barely managed to form his friend's name. He wanted to speak, he needed to speak… but Daxter shook his head and reached for the net.

"Just a minute. Let's get you into something more comfortable."

Together, they managed to untangle Jak and he stood, still a little shaky after the shock treatment. He felt as if he had run several miles. Daxter ducked under his arm with one look at him, dragging Jak's arm around the gangly shoulders for support.

"Whoa there," Daxter said, though even in this state Jak heard the tension in his voice. "Let's just go get our pea shooters and blow this popsicle stand on the double, eh?"

Jak could only make an agreeing sound. It wasn't until they had walked several steps that he found his voice again.

"Dax," he croaked. "Dax, sorry."

"About what?"

Jak reached up and rubbed his forehead. There was a red mark from where the robot had poked him, but it would fade soon enough.

"He had to say that… that… you wanted me to say your name first and I…"

Daxter tried to stop him, say it didn't matter, but Jak shook his head and went on.

"I had been dreaming… he stood in the door, I didn't see right," he slurred.

Though Daxter's heart lurched, he took in a deep breath and shook his head.

"Meh. I wasn't paying that much attention to the décor in there, but the lighting wasn't exactly the best, was it? And you were sleepy. I'm more upset your brain didn't catch up on that I was never that ugly."

He put up a brave smile. It made it a little easier for Jak, at least for the moment.

Together they made it through the forest, supporting each other as best they could.

'

Begin Introspection. Serial code: Daxter.

'

Okay, good. We're good. Everything's under control. Yes. Right. Great.

…

… Can we get to the part where he makes me feel better, now?

'

End Introspection.

'

Author's note: Oh hai thar, LadyFitz/Meeko. A fic to go with that awesome Dark Jak/Daxter fanart of yours, you said? You want it, you got it :D Sorta, at least. The positioning is outta whack, but the spirit is there, right? ("The One that Doesn't Run")

And a shout-out to a few wonderful reviewers, some more subtle than others (if you think you got a shout out, you probably did ;) And even if you didn't think so, you still probably did), and another to Nashidesei ("Bait"). Which is fanart for my old super silly parody Jak and Daxter comic "Mermaids" on deviantArt. Three words: Erol with tentacles.

Also, Erol's comment about Daxter using a bow was inspired by Lady-Darkstreak who came up with that concept. Which looks badass. The braids help, too, haha. ("The Archer and the Gunman")

All the referenced art can be found on deviantArt.