A/N: This story is set somewhere in the middle of the Jak II game, and will eventually lead into the Jak 3 storyline as well,however it might be slightly AU considering I may have to make up facts along the way. It's a specifically AshelinxJak story, along with some TessxDaxter, and although this isn't particularly Keira-bashing it does tend to point out her faults, so if you like her, keep in mind that this story doesn't.
Disclaimer: I don't own Jak. Squat.
Coming of Age
Chapter 1: I Remember
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Jak was sure that there was a time when he could remember what it was like to be carefree and happy, but the feeling had escaped him, and he doubted it would ever return. With leaden feet and a heavier heart, the blonde warrior trudged down the hallway to the barracks of the Underground HQ. There was an…opening in the beds due to the losses from a recent Metalhead siege at the north gate, and Jak was out of money, so renting a room at an inn was definitely out.
Daxter was just as, if not more, exhausted than Jak, but while the ottsel was perfectly content to collapse onto the mattress and add his snores to those of the other Undergrounders, Jak found it painfully necessary to dress his throbbing wounds consisting of vicious bites and slashes criss-crossing his torso and arms, and finding something to eat for Daxter, because he knew the furry rodent would be pestering him in the morning for some breakfast if he fell asleep on an empty stomach.
Shuffling listlessly into the common room, Jak rummaged wearily through a pile of blueprints before unearthing a shoddy first-aid kit. Not much, some gauze bandages and tape and a tube of antiseptic, but it would have to do. Casting a searching glance over the room, Jak spotted a metal folding chair and settled warily into it, listening for the tell-tale squeaks of a damaged leg and, satisfied as the chair remained silent, proceeded to remove his tunic to treat his injuries.
The door banged open and Jak jumped, squirting a glob of antiseptic onto his knee rather than a particularly nasty gash just above his navel that pulsed with the beginnings of an infection. A ridiculously furious Torn stormed in and promptly knocked two rolls of city maps to the floor before kicking the table and leaning against the wall, breathing heavily.
Had Jak still retained an ounce of extra energy, he would have raised his eyebrow, but as he was exhausted beyond words, he simply allowed his eyes to linger on the ex-KG for a moment before scooping the ointment from his pantleg and smearing it despondently over the cut Torn's entrance had stolen Jak's attention from. There was no sound save the occasional hiss of pain from the blonde elf and the rasping breath of his elder as Jak finished coating the bites and slashes on his torso, arms and neck. Deciding to be tape-efficient, Jak simply wrapped his entire chest and stomach with gauze and secured the ends with clips rather than bandage each wound seperately.
"You got beat up pretty bad." Torn's words were unexpected, but Jak only replaced the tube of medicine and the extra bandages back into the metal box and clasped it shut, tossing it onto the table and tying his tunic around his waist. "Metalheads sure got you good."
"I've been worse," Jak answered wearily, without the usual venom he applied to his voice when speaking to the Underground general. Running a hand through his hair, Jak stood, preparing to stumble off in the search of food when Torn reached out and grasped the younger elf's arm as he passed, causing a brief sting of pain to shoot to his shoulder. Jak ignored it.
"Jak, uh…tell me. About yourself." Torn wouldn't meet his eyes, but immediately dropped his hold and folded his arms over his chest. "I've heard too many different stories," he added, as way of explanation for such an odd and abrupt request.
"They're probably all true," Jak mumbled, but relocated his chair and sat all the same, laying his head on his arms atop the table and closing his eyes briefly, before dark blue flitted open and fixed upon Torn's tattooed face once more. "What do you want to know?"
"About…about your home. I heard it was nice."
Jak snickered, the snort muffled by his arms and drained by fatigue. "Funny you ask that. I was just thinking about how I'm forgetting it. I remember there being…sand. And ocean. There was green grass, and the smell of animals. I lived near the farmer." For some reason, details were refreshing themselves in his mind as he struggled to recall them. Perhaps all he needed was to talk about it. "Yakkows. Smelly sons uh bitches. I usually stayed at Dax's. My uncle died when I was younger anyways."
"What about your parents?" Torn found another chair and plopped into it, straddling the back and resting his chin on his arms atop the backrest.
"I never knew them." Jak turned his head, yawning widely. "Not that many people in Sandover. But it was a beautiful place. I can't remember what the sunlight on my arms and back feels like, or the smell of clean water and air. I can tell you that sunrises and sunsets were stunning, but I couldn't tell you what colors they were." Jak cracked open an eye to stare sadly at Torn. "I was happy back then."
"You're lucky," Torn snapped at him. "Some of us have grown up knowing nothing but pain. At least you have memories of something good to fall back on."
"Is that better? To have something good, only to have it ripped away and replaced with hell?" Jak's voice took on a decidedly angry tone. "No one can answer that, because all have experienced either one or the other. When I was in that prison, in the beginning I thought it was good to have those memories, but as time wore on, I began to wish that it never happened. I wished that the only thing I ever knew was that prison, that cell, that-that Eco in my body, so that I couldn't be tortured with my own knowledge too, that there was something better, and that I'd had it." Jak's head lolled on his arms so that his face was hidden. "I knew paradise. I'm forgetting it, but I knew it at one time."
Torn's voice was silent as he shifted his weight on the chair, eliciting a squeal of protest from the metal. Just as Jak was beginning to doze off, he spoke again, his grave voice dragging Jak back to consciousness. "I had a fight with Ashelin."
"Am I supposed to care?" Jak's attitude was returning with his anger that he was being disturbed from a rare rest.
"It was about you. I wanted to send you out on a mission tomorrow morning, but she protested." Torn shifted his weight again, apparently uncomfortable. "She said I've been running you ragged."
"Why the hell does she care if I'm being run ragged?" Jak sighed irritably, peeking past his forearms at Torn, eyebrows furrowed.
Torn snarled his next statement. "Because she likes you, fucktard." There was a fire in his eyes that screamed of jealousy. "And I'm not talking about 'comrade in arms' like, I mean she wants you."
Jak regarded Torn with an indifferent eye before yawning again, tucking his face back into his arms. "I don't care. I haven't got the time or patience for a girlfriend."
"Then you'd better tell her then." The chair scraped against the floor as Torn stood, nudging the chair back into place with his toe. "Nobody has time to be happy these days. Don't think you're special."
"A few gallons of Dark Eco in my body would say different," Jak growled, but stood all the same. "But I don't feel special anyways. I feel like a freak."
"You are a freak." Torn ignored Jak's outraged and slightly hurt expression. "To everyone else, you are. Don't forget that."
Jak watched silently as Torn sauntered from the room in a seemingly better mood, his fists clenching and unclenching with raging emotions. Finally, Jak settled upon weariness and returned to his search for nurishment for himself and a certain furry best friend sleeping soundly a few doors away.
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"Go away."
"No. I'm about to die. Move your furry ass over or you don't get a crumb of the bread I managed to steal for us."
At the sound –and now smell- of food, Daxter perked up immediately, rubbing his eyes and wiggling over to the wall so that Jak could slide tiredly beneath the sheets, sighing as his head sank into the pillow. At his friend's insistance, Jak produced the loaf of bread and broke off a chunk for both of them, setting the remainder of the loaf on his stomach. Daxter accepted the food eagerly, wolfing it down as quickly as possible. "This is the most wonderful thing I've ever tasted. Baby, you are a lifesaver."
Jak nodded, tucking his own piece into his mouth and chewing before tearing off two more pieces for them. "Dax," he mumbled through the crumbs, "d'ya think Ashelin likes me?"
"Uh, duh," Daxter answered, refraining from rolling his eyes as he felt his stomach filling, consciously leaving more for his larger friend. "I'm very sure she wants your body more than Tess wants mine. And that's sayin' something." Daxter gazed curiously at his friend, nibbling on what was left of the bread in his paws. "Why? You finally figured out that some female companionship would break you from this Dark and Brooding complex you have going?"
"Shut it, Dax. I was just wondering." As punishment, Jak crammed the rest of the loaf into his mouth, ignoring the dismayed whine of the ottsel curled comfortably in the crook of his arm. "Besides, even if I was shopping around, Keira's apparently off the market." Jak's tone was bitter. "I'm not good enough for her anymore." Daxter felt Jak's muscles tense with repressed anger. "It's always, 'The Jak I knew' or 'You used to be' with her. Like I should have stayed the same. Maybe I should just tell her that Erol was the one who did most of the torture. Maybe she'd think twice about her 'perfect driver.' "
"Whoa, boy, calm down," Daxter urged, propping himself up on hind legs and folding his arms atop Jak's chest, leaning forward and peering at his face. "Don't worry about her, Jak. She's always been kinda snooty anyways, with her dad being a Sage. She likes to think she's pure and good and innocent, and that everything she does or likes is right. She wouldn't know what you and I do. We've seen the bad, and we've done it."
"Yeah," Jak answered softly, idly resting a hand on Daxter's back, his expression softening to regret and guilt. "We have done some pretty bad stuff." He met his comrade's blue eyes with his own, both pairs filled with regret.
"Don't worry about what you've become," Daxter muttered, curling back up between Jak's chest and arm, laying his head on Jak's bicep like a cat. He was becoming more animalistic every day.
"Were you afraid of me?" Jak asked suddenly, the thought striking him with a deepening feeling of dread in his stomach at the expected answer.
"Yeah, a little. I mean, sharp claws and teeth in your face isn't exactly what I'd call cuddly." Daxter closed his eyes and smiled.
"No, I don't mean my dark side. I mean me, just Jak." Jak rolled onto his side, so that his back was to the door and Daxter was now spooned against his stomach and arm. "Were you afraid of who I was?"
Daxter opened an eye tiredly, fixing Jak with a reproachful glare. "No. Why would I be? Just go to sleep, Jak, I'm tired." With that, the rodent fell into a deep slumber, little body rising with each breath he took.
Jak watched Daxter sleep for a bit longer, then closed his eyes and fell asleep as well, unconsciously covering his friend with an arm as if to protect him.
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He's beautiful.
I've never been one to look for physical beauty in a man. Hell, I've never even been one to look for a man, other than Torn. But that was a long time ago, so long that despite his desire for it, it can't be revived. I'm sorry for that, very much so, but there's nothing I can do.
He's very young, seventeen from what I hear. That's so young, not compared to me, but to be involved in something like this, to be treated like that by my own father.
I heard. Of course I've heard. Who hasn't, with my barbaric oaf of a guardian broadcasting what he's done to the poor boy at ever corner? I've heard stories of what's happened by the other guards, some who's even treated him personally. I heard Erol go on and on, so gleefully, about his treatments. When I first saw him, I didn't know that he was the poor soul all that had happened to, but when I learned that he was Jak, that he was the experiment…
Mar, the guilt nearly destroyed me. The only thing I could do was shut down all my feelings about him. That's why I was so rude to him when he helped me in the bazaar. I couldn't look at him.
I saw him race. I heard that he's trying to win the championship so that he can get into the palace to kill my father. I don't know what to believe. I know he's been wronged and nearly destroyed by what my father did to him, but I can't let him kill Dad. No matter what he's done…
I'm also hearing rumors about him joining with Metalheads to get at Father. Normally I wouldn't believe such ridiculous claims, but Jak's never made it clear what side he's on. It seems like the only one he's out for is himself, and maybe that obnoxious animal on his shoulder.
Who is he? That's the question of the century. Who is Jak? No one even seems to know his last name.
My emotions have found it necessary to ignore the obvious danger in dealing with such an enigma, and decided to fall for this walking Pandora's box. Not because of his beauty, or bravery, or dare-devil antics (my heart nearly stopped seeing him pull those stunts on the track), but for the simple fact that he stills retains his humanity. Of all people, Jak is one of the few with a viable excuse to be a completely cold and uncaring bastard, but he still wants to save lives, despite what he says. He could shout all day that he's only looking out for himself and his best interests, but no one can ignore the look in his eyes when he has to kill another person, or when he sees the bodies of innocents the Metalheads have destroyed.
What is it about him that draws me to him?
And then there's that mechanic girl. It's painfully obvious that she has a thing for him, but she seems almost afraid of what he is. Fear in a relationship doesn't work. I've seen the monster he can turn into, and I'm afraid of that thing, yes, but this girl –Keira- seems to be afraid of Jak as a person. Perhaps because she's seen what he used to be? Supposedly, he was much different before two years of torture changed him.
But that kind of thing has that effect on people.
First of all, Jak only introduces me, and she has the nerve to get bitchy with me when I haven't even done a single thing to her. All I did was congratulate him on his victory and she automatically assumes I'm out to bed him like a common whore. That child has some growing up to do. She doesn't deserve someone like Jak, and she sure as hell couldn't deal with his complexity even if she did.
I didn't want to fall in love with the number one enemy of my father, but look what happens when a girl allows herself to be a girl again. For so long I've just regarded myself as soldier, a warrior, and it wasn't until Jak came along that I remembered that I'm a woman, too.
Speak of the devil…