AN: This story is creating itself quicker than I would have thought possible. To Sabulana, I would absolutely love it if you decided to draw that scene. I really would.

Once again, a huge thanks to everyone that has reviewed. I love you all.

And just in case you've forgotten, I don't own any of the characters in this story. If I did, it wouldn't be Ashelin that Jak kissed.

Chapter Three

Torn should have been ecstatic that Jak had found them a way to get back to Freedom headquarters, and he was for the most part, until he realised it meant that he had no logical reason to stay at the Naughty Ottsel anymore.

HQ had of course been delighted that they would now undoubtedly have Jak at their beck and call. Torn supposed HQ now included him as well, but was a small consolation.

He put off the actual move for as long as possible, somehow managing to convince himself that he was needed more here, to co-ordinate the war in the southern part of the city, but that lie could only last for so long.

A day came when Torn finally gave in to the inevitable, and began to pack what few personal items he had at the Naughty Ottsel into a tiny box, telling himself that if he didn't do it now, he never would. He spent most of the afternoon standing in the doorway, gazing forlornly over at the door to Jak's room.

He wondered, not for the first time, what he would find if he dared to enter the sacred domain that was the blonde's room. This, he realised, would probably be his final chance.

Where was the harm in it? Jak was off at Freedom HQ and would never know he had been there.

Torn hesitated as his hand hovered over the door handle, knowing that there was something inherently wrong about what he was going to do. He then took a deep breath, turned the handle, and stepped inside.

Jak knew he was stubborn. It was one of his inherent flaws, and without it he just wouldn't be Jak, but he did take a moment to wonder if perhaps this would be taking it too far. A city could be saved with stubbornness, a journey completed, but he was fairly sure that stubbornness alone could not win a woman's heart. Surely it was worth a try though.

"Jak!" Keira objected as he led her to a more secluded part of the palace. "You said you had something to show me; now show me already!"

"All right," Jak said, figuring that here was as good a place as any. He let white eco flow through his veins, letting it take over his entire being, and began to hope.

Seem had stared at his light eco form in awe for a good two minutes when he had first seen it, a strange sort of smile settling on the monk's face that made Jak wonder if the boy was going to pounce on him. Sig had rattled off a thousand questions in under a minute, concluding by asking if he could touch Jak's wings. Maybe, just maybe, light Jak could win Keira over as well.

Jak felt the transformation complete itself as his wings sprouted from his back. He blinked a couple of times, adjusting to the new way of seeing he received while in his light form, which left smudges of light and dark spattered over his view of the world.

Jak silently begged for Keira to ask if she could touch his wings, but instead she stood back as if she was surveying a possible new zoomer or jetboard. Jak stared at her hopefully, wondering if his expression would be able to say what he couldn't right now.

Please like it. Please… love me.

"Jak," Keira sighed. "I'm supposed to be impressed, aren't I? I'm sorry Jak, but I've already heard all about this. I figured I'd see it for myself sooner or later. Jak, if this is another attempt to make me fall in love with you, then it's not going to work. Are you even listening to me?"

Jak nodded mutely. He was listening to every word Keira said, even though every single word cut him like a knife.

"You need to get over me and on with your life. I've changed. So have you. It just wasn't meant to be."

How can you say that? After all we've been through, how can you?

Somehow, if Keira accepted him then everything would be all right. If Keira accepted him then somehow the darkness would be kept at bay, and yet, Keira hadn't accepted him.

Jak felt the light eco drain from his body, and felt his wings shrink back into his body, leaving nothing but the feeling of being cold and alone once more.

"Isn't there some chance?" Jak asked now that he had the ability to speak once more.

"No Jak," Keira said, shaking her head. "There's not."

Pain filled him, and for a moment he had to focus entirely on keeping his darker self at bay. If he wasn't careful then he knew it would burst out uncontrolled, and then who knew what would happen.

He remembered the one time it had happened while he had been out in the desert with Sig. A group of Marauders had attacked from nowhere, and his darker self had burst out then, destroying nearly everything around him, making him forget Sig was nearby in the process. He remembered the blood; there had been so much of it, and if they hadn't been so close to a shelter then Sig probably would have died.

The memory was a painful one, and for a moment Jak thought he heard a familiar voice taunting him once more.

…you'll be a monster…never able to love again…all alone…

This last memory was too much, and the damn burst. With a scream Jak transformed into his darker form and within seconds had Keira in his clawed hands.

"No…" he hissed. There was blood running down Keira's arms from Jak's claws. "If you won't love me…"

He raised one of his arms up to strike Keira.

No, part of Jak thought. I can't hurt Keira.

Why not? A voice that was both his own and yet not him responded. She hurt you.

I can't…

Keira stared up at Jak, the fear evident in her eyes.

I can't…

"Jak?" she pleaded.

"I CAN'T!" Jak screamed, transforming back to his normal self, the shock of the transformation making him stumble back a few steps away from Keira.

For a moment the two stood there, staring at one another in shock and fear. Jak caught sight of the blood still running down Keira's arms and shuddered.

What have I done?

He stumbled back a couple of steps, before turning around and running from the frightened Keira as fast as his legs could carry him. He ran through the palace, past faces that became a blur.

"Jak?" Ashelin asked in concern as he ran past her to the elevator. "Jak, what happened?"

Jak continued to run past Daxter and Pecker, engaged in one of their usual fights, and out of the palace.

"Jak?" Daxter called after him. "Jak! Wait up!"

Jak didn't know where he was running; just that he had to run. He needed to be somewhere safe; somewhere warm; some place where he didn't feel as though Keira hated him. He needed to be in the closest place to a home that he had.

Torn looked around the room, surprised at how tidy it was. He had expected a complete mess from the blonde. Then again, Jak didn't exactly spend much waking time here, and probably didn't have enough time to make a mess.

The bed was still unmade, and from the looks of things, Jak was a restless sleeper. At the foot of the bed was a small pile of sheets that Torn supposed must serve as Daxter's bedding.

Torn lay down on the bed, burying his face into one of Jak's lumpy pillows and breathing in his scent. It smelled like ottsel, and eco, and gunpowder, none of which would normally appeal to Torn, but mixed in with them was something else; something which was uniquely Jak and which sent shivers up and down Torn's spine.

Oh yes, there was definitely something about what he was doing that Torn knew was wrong, but he couldn't help it. The smell was intoxicating.

He pulled himself away from Jak's bed, even though he was extremely reluctant to do so, and took another look around the room. Jak only had a few personal belongings, all of which stood on an old makeshift shelf constructed from a couple of used crates topped by an old sheet of steel. There were a few spare gun parts, a couple of small boxes of eco that Jak must have been saving for a rainy day, and a few old gate passes.

What attracted Torn's eye however, was an old photo that Jak had propped against the wall. Jak and Keira had their arms flung over each other's shoulders. Both were smiling widely, and even though the picture had been taken only a few years ago, probably during the middle of the war against Kor, there was a look on Jak's face that Torn had never seen before. Jak looked completely and utterly at peace, as if none of the horrors Torn knew he had endured had ever occurred.

Torn picked the photo up, running a finger lovingly over Jak's figure in the photo.

What I wouldn't do to find that exact same look directed at me, Torn thought sadly.

"Torn?"

The brunette whirled around to find Jak standing in the doorway. When had he gotten back, and probably more importantly, how much had he seen? The blonde looked shocked, panic-stricken, but above all things, as though he had been betrayed. Torn realised guiltily that in a way he had been.

"Jak," Torn hesitated, putting the photo back down on the desk. "Jak, I'm…"

But Jak was gone before Torn could finish apologising.

"Jak!" Torn called out, racing after him.

There had only been a little anger inside when he had seen Torn, but even that was a little too much. He had almost killed Keira; he didn't want Torn to appear on his list of victims as well.

He had to leave just in case Dark came out again. He continued to run, heedless of the other man's screams behind him. He needed his light form again; needed the comfort and protection it gave him, even if it hadn't proven his worth to Keira. He pulled deep inside himself, searching for even a small trace of white eco, and found it.

His wings grew, just as he reached the end of the path, and jumped over the water. He flew over the harbour, going higher, and higher, away from anything and anyone that he could harm.

Torn stopped as Jak jumped over the wall and into the harbour. He couldn't help but stare as Jak's wings sprouted from his back and he took to the air.

Torn had heard a couple of the stories, and knew now that they didn't do justice to Jak's newest form. How could words describe anything as beautiful as this?

And yet somehow he had managed to hurt this splendid creature. Guilt tore at Torn's gut like a knife as he watched Jak fly away.

"Jak?" a voice somewhere near ground level said.

Torn looked down to see Daxter, staring after his friend in a similar fashion as Torn, though perhaps not with so much awe and fascination. A few metres away lay a badly dinted and now smoking zoomer. Torn didn't even want to think about how much damage Daxter must have caused by driving that thing himself.

"Maybe we should leave him alone for a while," Torn suggested.

"You're right," Daxter sighed, seemingly out of smart comments for once. "I'm gonna go see Tess," he said, though his heart didn't sound in it. "I'll see you… soon."

"Right," Torn answered, keeping his eyes fixed on a small figure of blue and white light in the distance.

Jak had found a ledge so high up that no-one would be able to reach him. He sat there for a long while, not doing anything except staring down at the city below and thinking, and wishing he wasn't what he was.

He didn't know how long he had been up there. Maybe it had been two hours, maybe three, or possibly an entire day, before his communicator sprang to life, jumping out of his pocket and hovering near his ear.

"Jak," Torn's voice crackled over the speakers. "I'm sorry. Could you please come down now?"

There was a strong pleading in Torn's voice that Jak almost couldn't ignore. Almost. He looked away from the communicator, turning his wing-covered back on the man he knew was watching him.

"Jak, please," Torn spoke again. Jak looked over at the Naughty Ottsel, and sure enough, Torn had not budged from his watchful position in front of the night club. "It's beginning to rain."

And sure enough it was. The tiny droplets seemed to dissolve before they hit his skin however, yet another of his light form's little tricks, Jak surmised.

"Jak?" Torn pleaded.

Jak turned and stared at the communicator, knowing that Torn would be able to see the look he was being sent.

You should go back inside Torn. Don't worry too much about me. Please don't worry about me.

"Jak, I'm sorry," Torn repeated. "Please just come back down here. Daxter's worried about you."

Of course Daxter's worried, but not so much that he'd be foolish enough to stand out in the rain like you are.

"I'm …" Torn hesitated, as though admitting the next part would prove, once and for all, that he wasn't as tough and unapproachable as he had tried hard to be. "...worried about you. Please Jak."

There was something so very wrong about the ex-KG commander pleading that almost made Jak want to cry. The very fact that Torn had actually admitted that he was worried about Jak changed the complicated and unclear image Jak had of the other man in his head in such a subtle, yet blindingly wonderful, and at the same time, deathly painful way that for once, Jak's stubbornness didn't hold out.

He would not cry though, and not only because Light Jak couldn't cry. He hadn't cried in years, and this was no reason to start now, but there was a massive knot in his stomach that just seemed to have been growing slowly since his earlier encounter with Keira, and Torn's concern seemed to triple its size. Jak knew that the only way to release it would be through tears.

He slowly stood up, stretched out his wings and stared at the communicator.

Fine. You win.

Torn brushed as much water as possible off his face, allowing him to watch Jak without the droplets of water blurring his vision. The blonde landed right in front of him, stumbling forwards as his wings disappeared once more.

Torn had expected some sort of outrage or anger, or at least protest against his secret investigation of Jak's room, but instead Jak stumbled the remaining few steps towards Torn and collapsed against him.

"Jak?" Torn queried as he felt Jak's hands twist and grip at the fabric of his clothing. Jak's head moved to rest against Torn's shoulder, and Torn realised that the younger elf was sobbing.

"Jak, what…?" Torn meant to say something, but the words fell away before they could reach his mouth.

Torn had never been good at comforting people. He had a feeling it was one of the reasons his relationship with Ashelin had fallen apart, but even still, he could try. He wrapped his rain-soaked arms around Jak and pulled him closer, letting the younger elf cry against his shoulder.

He had never seen Jak cry before, Torn realised, and he wondered how long Jak had been keeping this bottled up inside. There were tears there for innocence lost, for friends gone and forgotten, and for a million words never spoken.

Jak's tears mixed with the rain, until Torn wasn't really sure what liquid was wetting him where. The rain stopped after a short while, and the sun peeked out from behind a cloud, but Jak's tears did not cease.

"It's all right," Torn whispered, rubbing hesitantly at Jak's back, although he wasn't completely sure why he was comforting the other man. "It's going to be okay Jak," Torn insisted.

"No it's not," Jak argued between sobs. "Because I'm not… I can't…" Torn wasn't sure what Jak was talking about, but knew it must have been something that had been troubling Jak for a while.

"And Sig… and Daxter… and now even Keira…" Jak sobbed. "I could have hurt you too."

"I'm sorry about going into your room earlier," Torn blurted out, figuring now was as good a time as any.

"You could have just asked me." Torn was happy to note that Jak smiled as he said this.

"Would you have said 'yes' though?" Torn asked, trying to keep the conversation revolving around something that seemed to have a positive effect on the other elf.

Jak stayed silent, and Torn figured that meant he didn't know the answer.

"My room isn't really that interesting though," Jak eventually commented. The tears were now gone completely.

"You're right," Torn admitted, secretly thinking that it was a lot more interesting than Jak gave it credit for. "But I was curious."

Jak smiled again, and even though the tears were gone, they stayed in one another's arms for a while longer, oblivious to the eyes that were now watching them.

Daxter was shocked. Jak hadn't cried for ages. It had been quite literally years since he had seen the eighteen-year-old shed so much as a tear; since Sandover in fact, yet here he was, bawling like a child in the arms of, of all people, Torn.

Oh well.He shrugged away the thought that something was seriously off here. Stranger things had happened.

Well, well, well. Jinx grinned as he surveyed the scene in front of him. It looked like Torn had gotten lucky. He had only been witness to the last few seconds of the exchange, but it seemed pretty clear to him what had happened from the enormous grins on both men's faces.

Jinx decided he was happy for the two of them, before deciding that maybe he should leave them in peace.

Jak silently disentangled himself from Torn's arms, suddenly highly embarrassed that he had broken down in front of Torn. Surely the older man would make fun of him for this later on.

He looked up at Torn's face then, and saw nothing but a kind, understanding smile on his face. Jak returned the smile wholeheartedly, and Torn's stomach did a somersault.

It was exactly the same smile Jak had worn in the photograph with Keira.

Torn quickly decided that he needed to keep an eye on Jak. Moving to Freedom HQ could wait for a while.

AN: Hee hee hee. Silly Jinx, jumping to conclusions. Stay tuned for the next chapter, in which Jinx keeps his promise, Jak attempts to get Torn drunk, and there is at least one kiss.