Chapter 3, The Baron's shadow

"Ashelin…"

"What?"

The red-haired leader of Haven City's defense turned around sharply, and gave the figure in the door a cold glare. She had little patience with anybody who failed to be the person she was hoping to see. From the other end of the round table, Torn narrowed his eyes at his superior.

Ashelin forced her features to even out as she realized who it was. While she had lost a good deal of respect for Keira lately, Samos' daughter was still skilled and a friend. Why did she have to be such a ditz, though? Ashelin knew that there had been a lot more spunk in the other woman before, or at least she seemed to remember things being so. It was hard to believe now, when Keira at best piped up in agreement to something somebody else said.

The redhead was about to get quite a surprise, however.

Keira looked around, noting the absence of Pecker, Onin and her own father. While Torn was still there, she mentally shrugged and decided that it did not matter. This was important, and perhaps the former sub-leader of the Underground could help as well.

"Do you have a moment?" she asked, "both of you?"

Ashelin looked around and met Torn's eyes. He frowned, but nodded.

"Nothing seems to be going to hell right now, at least," he confirmed.

He studied Keira as she walked closer, noting with some bewilderment how determined she looked. The childish shyness which he had been used to seemed to have disappeared.

She stopped in front of Ashelin, and took in a deep breath.

"I met Jak at the gun course-" she started.

"Jak? Shouldn't he be resting up?" Ashelin interrupted.

"Why in the blazes were you there?" Torn interrupted.

"I thought so too," Keira told Ashelin, while waving a dismissive hand at Torn.

She clenched her teeth.

"I'm worried about him," she said, "I don't think he's doing well."

This was met by silence.

Finally, after several seconds, Torn shrugged.

"I wouldn't worry," he said, "Jak's always cranky between battles. It'll pass."

"No, he's not cranky, it's worse!" Keira said, placing both her hands on the table with a loud smack, "he seemed calm, but then when he mentioned his father he suddenly fell down and started transforming."

"Is he okay?" Ashelin demanded.

Keira bit her own cheek. A nasty lump was forming in her throat, strangely since she was surrendering something she had already given up on to her… rival. How could it possibly still hurt?

No… she had surrendered the fact that there was little more she could do to aid Jak in his physical battles. The emotional ones she had still tried to keep safe, in her own mind at least. Tried to make it easier on him to forget her, it was the only thing she could do to help. He should not have to be torn, on top of everything.

'But what about me?!'

She took in another deep breath to calm herself. She had come here to get the help which she could not provide herself. If that was the last thing she could offer him, then by the precursors' fur she would do it. If there was anything at all that could save Jak from his pain, she would try to provide.

"He's okay now," she said, "rushed into the gun course and started blasting away. I don't think that he's fully well, though."

"Post traumatic experience," Ashelin said, turning away, "it'll pass. Jak is stronger than you think."

Keira had been prepared to ensure Jak's need for somebody who could help him deal with his pain. She had not foreseen accusations towards her own person.

The past year, all the emotions she had tried to kill to give Jak a chance to move on to someone who understood him better, sprung up and slapped her in the face as Ashelin coldly dismissed her judgment.

She exploded.

"I have known Jak far longer than you!" Keira snarled, "you weren't there! You didn't see him! How can you say that?"

Ashelin started and spun around, staring at the other woman in surprise. She had not believed that the dainty little mechanic was able to raise her voice that much. On the other side of the room Torn cocked his eyebrows.

"You never saw Jak like he used to be! Why would- how could you understand what happened?! The difference between who he was at home and what he became here?!"

Keira advanced, and Ashelin drew back in her shock due to the radical change that had occurred. Her battle hardened instincts screamed at her to do something about this threat, but she struggled to control them – this was not an enemy. Enough rage streamed from the dainty Keira to make anybody worry about her intentions, however.

Torn desperately wished that he was somewhere, anywhere else.

And Keira forgot to think.

"He found his father just when that father died right before his eyes! How dare you claim that he would not be hurt-"

Smack!

Torn blinked. Ashelin did too, and Keira lost her voice. The two women stared at each other, one's hand a mere inch from the other's cheek. Keira's whole arm vibrated, but her wrist remained steady against Ashelin's.

Slowly, the redhead withdrew her hand.

"Don't…" she said, voice hoarse with emotions as she turned away, "don't mention Jak and fathers in the same sentence when you speak with me."

Keira took a step back, wavering between being horrified at what she had caused, or to give in to the tiny stitch of dark glee that bubbled deep down inside her. The latter sickened her, to find something so vile within herself. At the same time, she had dearly wanted to see Ashelin shook from her high yakows.

With a deep sigh, Ashelin placed her hands and entire weight on the table, letting her head drop between her shoulders. The red dreadlocks sloshed down around the base of her long ears while she gritted her teeth.

"Keira…" she finally said, almost croaking, "if Jak is hurting because of Damas, I'm definitely not the right one to help him."

"But you-" Keira started.

"I could never, ever face him about his father," Ashelin sharply interrupted, shaking her head without looking up, "you know what happened between him and mine."

Keira watched her in silence, unable to think of anything to say. Finally, Ashelin straightened up but still refused to look neither Keira nor Torn in the eye. She folded her arms and turned her back to both of them.

"I didn't know what father was doing, and I definitely didn't know that he had done it to Jak until long after I first met Jak," she told the blinking walls.

She took a few steps away, paused, and shook her head again. Unseen to her two friends, she pinched her eyes tightly shut.

"My father was a cruel dictator," she said, voice wavering between rage and resentful sorrow, "but he was still my father. Did Jak kill him?"

Keira gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth. Ignored by both women, Torn developed an even deeper frown.

"He said that it was Kor…" Keira finally said, but her voice did not quite rise as much as she tried to make it do.

"Yes, he and Daxter said so," Ashelin coldly said, "but they were the only surviving witnesses. Would they want me to know?"

Her head dropped again and she covered her eyes with a hand.

"I want to believe Jak, however," she said, "trust me, Keira, I care about him. But there is so much trash between us, and yet…"

She finally turned around and faced Keira, but there was an apparent resistance in her movements. For a second, her gaze flew towards Torn and back again.

"You know that when he and Daxter came back from the battle against Erol, me and him, we…?"

Keira thought that the clog in her throat would keep her from doing it, but somehow she managed to nod.

"I… guessed so," she pressed out.

It was lucky that Torn did not carry anything in his hands. It would have been pulverized, had it even been eco crystals.

"I used to… feel ashamed when I was around Jak," Ashelin continued, looking away, "once I learned what father had done. Then, I felt that I was the one who had to make amends. Maybe I still do. Nothing could ever make it okay, though…"

Once again she sighed.

"And I can't do anything this time, Keira, you'll have to find somebody else."

All air left Keira as her glimmer of hope finally died. She had counted on Ashelin's help; in the mechanic's eyes the tattooed woman seemed to be Jak's match.

'Far better than me, at least.'

But Ashelin would not even try. Deep down Keira did understand the predicament, but right then and there she could only feel bitter disappointment.

"But who, then?" she asked, clenching her fists.

She almost jumped when another voice came from the other end of the table – she had completely forgotten Torn.

"Maybe that giant war factory, Sig," he grimly said, "he and Jak always seemed like a pair of asskicking peas in a pod."

Ashelin perked up a little.

"Yes," she said, "he knew Damas as well. We should ask him-"

"I will ask him."

Keira turned and marched out of the room, her jaw clenched so tightly that the teeth almost broke.

Even before the door had closed behind the mechanic, Ashelin was hiding her eyes under a hand again and muttering in frustration. A few moments after Keira had left, she looked up and glared at Torn. He glared back, facing the mix of anger and hesitation in the face of the woman he loved.

He was tempted, it screamed in every fiber in his body, to thank her for letting him know that he had been left behind because of a guilt-trip. But, despite how much filth he had assembled upon himself, he was still better than that. Or he knew women's scorn better than that.

Or perhaps he was too intelligent to make things worse. Hell, did he not know quite a lot about guilt because of what he had done for Ashelin? Even if she ever forgave him for betraying the Underground to protect her, it would take an eternity before he could completely cast it aside himself.

So instead of digging deeper into the wound she had exposed to him, he chose to let it slip.

"You wanna be alone?" he said, surprising himself with his neutral tone.

"Huh…"

Ashelin folded her arms, narrowing her eyes further at him.

"Aren't you going to hold it against me?" she said.

'Oh, don't tempt me, woman…' he thought.

Yet he still managed to control himself.

"Wouldn't make me happier," he just said.

They both silently thanked the precursors – with a bit of doubt, of course – when right at that moment a red lamp on the table began to blink, announcing a patrol's call for help. It gave them a breather to cool off, and maybe later they could sort this mess out. Hopefully.