A/N: Thanks so, so much to gohan11, shadows-of-flame, and ChibiSess for reviewing! Also, a special thanks to Ekobean for helping me a bit with this chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to Jak and Daxter; on the contrary, NaughtyDog does.

Dialogue Key

"Dialogue"
Thoughts
'Dark Jak Telepathic Dialogue'
Emphasized word

The Rejected
Chapter Seven

Torn glared at the abomination that sat across from him. He could hardly believe he was actually on Jak's ship, negotiating for the safe return of the Wastelander Arrah. Torn knew from experience that negotiations usually never turned out the way one wanted them to be. He suspected a trap, but then again, he might be able to trust Jak.

"So, Torn, how are you?" questioned Jak from the other side of the table. Torn's eyes narrowed to slits.

"Cut the crap and get to the chase."

Jak drew back a bit in surprise. "Jeeze Torn, I never knew you hated me that much."

"What do you want for Arrah? Precursor orbs? Eco?"

Jak sighed. "Torn, I only came to this godforsaken planet for one reason, and that is to terminate my alter egos. That is all I want. Give me them and I'll give you Arrah and never come back. It's just two monstrosities; nothing major."

"I'm not trading two innocent citizens of the city for them to be slaughtered! There must be something else you want: land? Power?" bellowed Torn.

Jak shook his head. "Okay, Torn, I am going to tell you why I want those two. Maybe you'll understand when I finish.

"It was nearly two months ago. I was fighting the Dark Makers on Twilaris in the Taiwinian Star System when all of a sudden the Precursors just kind of turned me away. The Leader said that he didn't my help anymore, and that I had to find myself to re-become the hero that I once was. I don't know why; I'm the same as I ever was. I'm not any different, though I may be to you. I am not going to kill Arrah; on the contrary, I want her to get out of here alive, and soon. There are only two people that I'm after, and I don't want any more killed than that.

"Torn, those monsters are harmful to this planet. They'll attract the Dark Makers again; and next time, I'm not going to be here to save you. I know you'll be fine, but what about the rest of the world? There are other cities other than Spargus and Haven, you know."

At this, Jak paused. Torn could tell Jak was being completely truthful, or at least Jak thought he was.

Torn sighed and rubbed his temple.

"Jak, they are not a danger to this planet. You misunderstood what the Precursors implied. Please, just release Arrah and leave this planet."

"No. You think about my deal, and what I've told you, and we'll see. I know I'm right."

"Fine," Torn retorted. He backed his chair up and stood up; Pecker grumbled, but followed Torn by getting off his perch on the back of Torn's chair.

"You think about it."

Torn jumped out of the HellCat in the Dune Buggy Port, with Pecker following him. He was going to tell Sig what had happened in person, for he suspected that Jak still somehow had the radio transmission machine cut off from Spargus.

He wandered the streets, catching many glances from curious onlookers. Maybe it was because he was an Outsider; maybe because of the black tattoo from his days in the Krimson Guard that stained his face. He wasn't sure, but then again, he didn't care.

Sand fluttered past him and Pecker as they walked toward the Wasteland Palace where Sig stayed. The day was just reaching its end; dying rays of sunlight danced on the sandstone and limestone homes that dotted the sides of the rough, rocky streets. A Wastelander on a Leaper Lizard rushed past, and other Spargan citizens dove out of the way of the flying lizard and its rider. Miniature dust demons sprung up from the Leaper's hind legs, and Pecker coughed as he hovered near Torn's head.

"Arrwak, curse that crazy rider and his crazy lizard," Pecker murmured.

When Torn and Pecker finally reached the Wasteland Palace, he found Sig waiting for him in the throne room. Keira and Dark were off somewhere and Light was conversing with one of the palace servants about something that was malfunctioning in the Great Library. The atmosphere was of utmost frustration: they were waiting for any news that might come their way concerning Arrah or Jak.

How awful it must be, to just wait when such horrible things are happening right outside of the city, Torn pondered.

"Torn!" called Sig. Torn turned round and greeted the Wastelander. How would he be able to tell him about what had happened? Where would he start?

"Sig, we need to talk, in private."

"Well cherry, this place is the most secure in all of Spargus. So talk all you want."

Inhaling ever so slowly, Torn started. "It all started a bit ago when I was attempting to fix the radio transmission machine…"

A moment of profound silence reigned throughout the throne room. It was impossible to do, impossible to even think that they might do that against a friend (Or a person who once had been a friend). How could they do it, and why? But they had debated for hours and hours, and it was already quite late into the night. Light had joined the discussion a bit earlier, and then Keira had aided Dark into the room. And then they had come to a decision.

The more they thought about, the more that they debated, then the more it became obvious that there was only one choice, one action that they would eventually have to carry out. None of them wanted to. But that fact was irrelevant, for it did not matter in the slightest what any of them desired or yearned for. They would do the thing that so many before they had done in the past, one event that caused the destroying of cities and the extinguishing of lives and the falling of great empires. But it was the only thing to be done and it could not be avoided. But as to who would speak of it first, no one knew. No one in the room even had the courage or pride to suggest such a thing.

And yet, there was one in the room who was skilled in the art of the thing, and knew what everyone else was thinking. He could hear their frightened, resentful thoughts echoing through his own mind, and he could not stand it any longer.

He pounded a clenched fist on the table, the sound echoing through the room. His dark black eyes narrowed, and he spoke the thoughts of all those present:

'We must go to war.'

A/N: Heh heh heh, bet you can't guess who said the last line! I'm joking, it was Dark Jak, if you couldn't tell. Anyway, please leave any thoughts you have so that I can keep improving as a writer!