A/N: The night before the beginning of Jak II, still in Sandover
There was only so much preparation—avoidance really—one could make for a journey like this. And yet he'd rearranged his tomes, meditated, paced, then finally found himself motionless at the bedroom door.
If he kept doing these things, it could undo the future. He had to believe that...
Jak and Daxter were curled around each other on the extra cot. Starting the evening back to back, they'd tossed and turned until they were settled into their current tangle. It'd been happening for years and though it appeared a painful arrangement, neither tended to move once they'd gotten that way. Keira was asleep in the next one, relaxed and half smiling. Forgotten tools were scattered on top of the blankets; a bad habit he'd never managed to scold out of her.
Excited about testing the gate they'd spent a week hauling to the hut, Jak and Daxter simply hadn't gone home. The old man had only managed to dissuade his daughter from testing based on the late hour.
'Who knows what will happen when we activate this. It is ancient Precursor technology! It would be wisest if we were at least well rested.'
Samos had choked on the words. He'd known the moment he saw his daughter's latest welding project that their time in this idyllic place was ending.
And though he'd never asked the renegade Jak of the future for any specifics, he'd learned that prison had drawn him to the Underground from Kor. Several years into Sandover, he'd suspected that imprisonment had involved the rumored eco experiments as he watched the child effortlessly channel.
The Baron was no fool, everyone agreed. He would have seized on Jak's skill.
The eco experiment's failures—particularly from a division codenamed DWP—spoke of horror Samos could not conceive. A doctor who worked for the Underground had shown him several cases. Called it the most inhumane treatment he'd ever seen.
Certainly Jak had survived, but at what cost?
It was the only explanation he could fathom for how the bright, friendly boy cuddling his ottsel best friend, had become the mouthy, hurt and angry young man who saved Haven City.
Restless—guilty—the sage turned to leave.
But a groggy blonde head rose to investigate the doorway. Jak was barely alert, relaxed and only curious. This was a second home, an adult around to handle problems.
Utterly safe.
Samos spoke softly, his voiced pitched an octave above a whisper—at once reassuring and heartbroken.
"It's alright Jak. Go back to sleep."
Mild confusion creased his features followed by almost immediate acceptance. Jak grinned, sheepish and a little silly. Flopped down and settled almost instantly back to sleep. The other two sunk back into instinctive deeper sleep, stirred in response to their friend.
The sage listened to their breathing for endless moments. He left, down to the kitchen and sat, head propped in his gnarled hands. There were tears, and he knew he was sobbing.
How could he do this to his children?