---
It's funny, how easily love can turn into an all-consuming hate. Ever since my transformation it's been gnawing at my soul, making me doubt the one certainty in my life. The two emotions are so similar in their intensity that, once they make the switch, it's hardly noticeable.
Until you have to make a choice.
I abandoned Jak that day. I turned my tail and fled, completely controlled by the hatred I didn't realize was there, should have realized was there. It took a week for the flames to die down, and that was when the hatred lost its grip on my mind. It was replaced by utter despair. The weight of what I had done, the inescapable guilt, crushed me utterly. I was alone. There was one person in the world that I had loved, and I left him to die. I was alone, and there was no one to blame but myself.
The darkness enveloped me.
When I woke from it a year later, there was one thought on my mind: save Jak.
---
Jak walked past the pile of Krimzon corpses without a second glance. "We need to get going."
"Yeah," I muttered. "Let's just get it over with, already. I'm sure the tattooed wonder will be DISPLEASED if we slack off!" The hate was flaring up again, as always. This isn't Jak. I destroyed my Jak long ago, and he deserved it.
I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't hear the snarls and weak screams, but Jak did. He abruptly tore the hoverboard from his back, nearly braining me in the process, and sped off on it down the pipe and around the corner.
The scene would play itself over, again and again and again, in my nightmares for many months to come. A group of Metalheads were tearing our rebels to pieces. The rebels, far too few in number to hold them off, were weakly struggling as the monstrosities ate them alive.
My mind froze in utter horror, and I found myself unable to look away or react until I felt a tremor underneath my paws. I slowly, stutteringly, looked to Jak, and what I saw did not ease my terror in the slightest. Jak was sobbing, or growling, or screaming, and the color began to drain from his skin. Horns exploded from his head with a sickening rip; his eyes never left the scene ahead of us as they dimmed and then flashed deepest black. My stupefied mind had just enough time to tell my hands to hold on as, crackling with energy, Dark Jak went to work.
Metalhead or rebel, Dark Jak did not care. They all bled the same, and the blood drove him into a killing frenzy. Dark Eco sprung from the quivering chunks that were once Metalheads, further fueling his rampage, and the man-made monster did not stop until the Eco quit flowing. Only when we were surrounded by unrecognizable heaps of flesh and bone, soaked in an unholy mixture of blood and bodily fluids, did the insanity fade from Dark Jak's eyes.
"Oh, God... Daxter..." As he slowly reverted back to himself Jak began to hyperventilate, sinking down to his knees. "Daxter! Oh god!"
I still don't know whether he was seeking comfort or thought he had killed me. In either case, I pried my stiff fingers from his shoulder plate and threw myself at his neck, which was the only part of his body I was physically able to envelop in an embrace.
The claws had retreated from his fingers, but those were still trembling wildly as Jak tentatively reached around me. He didn't seem to believe that I was real, at first. The hate, which was burning at my mind mere minutes ago, has been replaced by an overwhelming love and a terrible guilt. Again.
You know... Maybe Jak and I aren't so different.