Shattered

Chapter One: Broken Friendship

A sweet voice, hollow and clear, slipped into Jak's room like a breath of wind. So light and calm, it hovered in his ears. He opened his eyes and slowly got to his feet. Did he smell yacow bacon? Who was in his apartment and who had let them in? He looked around the room and saw Daxter curled tightly on his pillow, playing and twitching in his dreams. He looked so helpless, Jak thought, like he was still the short, red-haired boy, pale and face dotted with freckles. Letting his eyes scan the floor, Jak remembered the incident vividly. The lurker, the artifact, the accident… and he had promised Daxter that he would be changed back, that he would help him. But after all that, Jak hadn't been able to. Not even the green sage, powerful though he was, could turn the poor ottsel back.

His thoughts finally drifting back to the present, Jak stepped out of the tiny bedroom. He was hit with a wave of mouth-watering smells. Bacon, ham, eggs, toast, just the smell of a feast in general. But who had cooked it all? Where had it come from? Daxter and he had been too tired to cook anything after their mission the previous night.

Jakpulled outhis gun - which he always had at the ready- hastily and stepped timidly into the kitchen. A sigh of relief reached his lips as he realized that it was just Keira who had been cooking the fabulous meal laid before him on the familiar wooden table.

"Keira, you should really ask before you come in," Jak said groggily, still not fully awake. He put his gun down on the table.

"Ask? Of course I asked. Daxter let me in," Keira explained. "But he must've gone back to bed. I pounded on your door for twenty minutes before Daxter finally opened it. You were out cold."

"I bet. I was really tired," Jak said. He felt no regrets for sleeping in, although he was very glad to see Keira, making him breakfast, nonetheless…

Finally, after a long silence, Keira slammed down the last plate of steaming hot food. "Time to eat!" she announced loudly, obviously trying to wake Daxter. He came trudging out of the room, stretching his arms and rubbing his tired eyes. He spotted the food and was upon it in less than a heartbeat.

"Wow! Glad I let you in, Keira!" said Daxter through mouthfuls, crumbs of toast flying everywhere.

"Yeah, me too. No talking with your mouth full," Keira said, pointing to a chair with a heaping plate sitting lonely in front of it. Daxter seemed to have a look of sympathy on his face as he looked at the lone food. He scuttled over and began, once again, stuffing his face with the delicious meats and other breakfast items.

How Daxter ate so much, so fast, Jak and Keira would never know. They just stared in amazement as bite after bite slipped down the ottsel's throat. They watched as his frame seemed to slowly expand in front of their eyes. When Daxter was finished, and Jak and Keira had just began to eat, the ottsel fell over on the table, letting small gurgling noises escape his throat.

"Now that…THAT is what I call a breakfast fit for a king!" he slurred through his fullness. Keira laughed and Jak smiled. Jak got up and lifted the ottsel gently over to the couch in the other room. Daxter, in his stuffed state, could not protest or get back up to waddle over to the table. He just laid on the couch cushions relaxing.

Jak sat back down to finish his meal.

"You're not talking much today," Keira observed.

"I'm thinking," Jak said inattentively.

"About what?" Keira asked in general interest.

"Was that you singing?" Jak asked, looking at Keira. He was obviously trying to change the subject. But his eyes danced wildly in the dim light above the table. How Keira loved his eyes… they were like great stars that twinkled in the night and cast an eerie glow around. How excited they looked. How happy Keira thought with a sigh.

"Keira? Was that you singing this morning?" Jak asked again, waving a long-fingered hand in front of her.

"Yeah. That was me. Why? Was it horrible?" Keira asked suddenly in alarm. She had hoped Jak hadn't heard her, and now that she knew he had, she was embarrassed.

"No, not at all. It was really good," Jak said, once again escaping to the confines of his thoughts. Keira wondered what Jak really thought about when he was alone. She wondered what his nightmares were about every night- what could possibly scare him so much that he screamed in his sleep?-and what he thought when he… changed: When those ugly horns, sharp and twisted, sprouted. What happened when his claws grew sharp and thick and darkness ate away his glorious blue eyes? What did he think about when he was… beside himself? Keira knew better than to prod Jak for answers, that would only bring conflict and invoke anger. But what did Daxter know? Could she somehow get him to reveal some answers? If so, when? Now, while he was in his bloated state and Jak was lost in thought? If she knew, could she help Jak handle it? She knew that no one so far had been able to help Jak at all, not even his best friend in the world, the one that had stuck by his side through everything- Daxter.

Keira, still turning over the ideas in her mind, sat at the table until Jak was finally finished. Deftly, she lifted the dirty plates, deposited them into the sink, and began to tuck the leftovers into the empty fridge.

"Thanks, Keira," Jak said softly.

"No problem. I couldn't let our heroes go hungry," she said, trying to emit a laugh from Jak. The statement lost its humor on Jak before she had even said it. Something had been bothering Jak lately, and it was obvious to Keira.

"Jak," she said warmly, setting down beside him. She laid her hand on top of his, which were folded on the table. Jak seemed to almost flinch. It had been a long time since someone had touched him with good intensions, besides the ottsel that was permanently perched on his shoulder. But before he could protest, Keira went on. "You haven't been yourself lately. I wonder if… something's wrong," Keira said, her eyes wide with concern. This flared Jak's temper. He had been touchy lately, just like a time bomb waiting to explode on anyone who came within its deadly boundaries. But Keira wasn't afraid. She would've walk into a mine field if it meant helping Jak get over whatever was wrong. But Jak thought of this as sympathy, that Keira sypathized for him. He hated it, it made him feel weak, like he was inferior, and he was too bull-headed to admit that anything was wrong.

"What's it to you?" said Jak, his eyebrows hanging low over his eyes. He glared at Keira and retreated his hands away from her warm, gentle touch.

"I want to help," Keira said desperately. Why had she brought it up? She knew it would bring no good. Looking at her shaking hands, she said: "I care about you."

"If you care so much, you would leave me alone!" Jak said. He knew that Keira didn't deserve his temperament and that he was riding on the edge of their friendship, but they had been through this so many times. Why did she keep bringing it up? It flamed his temper horribly. Everytime they met, she thought something was wrong, and- even if it was- Jak either changed the subject of just plained denied it.

"If I didn't care, I would let you sulk and wouldn't cook and clean for you, Jak!" Keira tossed. The statement stung Jak. He really hadn't noticed all the things that Keira had done for him lately. Not only was he feeling guilty, but Keira had never raised her voice during one of their arguments. It made him realize what a thin string their relationship was really running on. But Keira went on, depicting all the little things she had done for him: laundry, dishes, shining his favorite armor, even updating his hoverboard so he could go faster yet have more balance- just chores in general that Jak and Daxter never really thought about or had time for.

Jak saw the hurt in Keira's eyes. He knew she wanted the arguing to stop, she wanted their friendship to resume its former status. They had been so close, like two peas in a pod… What had happened? Jak hadn't been paying attention when Keira had first hinted that their familiarity was dwindling, and now he wished he had. It would've saved them both a lot of pain.

Keira had continued raving while Jak was lost in his thoughts. He hadn't noticed the tears in her eyes, or her clenched fist rising at her side. It was until she pounded her fist on the table that Jak snapped back to reality.

"Jak! You weren't even listening. You always said that I didn't care about you… Well, I think it's the other way around. This friendship can't last. Good-bye. I hope you enjoyed your breakfast, because it's the last one I'm ever cooking for you." This being said, she stomped through Jak's apartment. Jak stopped her at the door.

"Keira, wait!" he cried. Keira paused half-in and half-out thefront of the door. She had desperately hoped that Jak would give her an apology. If only he would say sorry, then all would be forgiven. But, so far, Keira had been hoping in vain.

"Don't go like this…" he said. Keira was infuriated.

"You just don't get it, do you Jak?" she cried. "We're done. I never want to see you again. You thought that you could have my friendship because you have pretty blonde hair and a handsome smile? You thought you could use me, let me do all the work while you prance around the city being praised like a pampered prince? No, it doesn't work that way! To be friends, both people have to work at it. I tried, Jak. I told you it would come to this. I showed you all along, and you ignored me just like I was an abandoned cruiser or something… Good-bye, Jak."

Now that Jak had been told off, Keira ran out the door and down the street. She ran until her lungs burned, she ran until her legs collapsed under her. Where was she? She looked around. The slums, she was in the slums. The thick green water churned under the rotting piers and docks. It bubbled and sloshed, making Keira feel sick just to listen to it. But she watched as one small current drifted into another so easily. It seemed so effortless, how the two separate currents joined each other. Why couldn't people be that way? Why couldn't they just flow together to make a big forceful current, sweeping through the waters and watching the birds dive and catch the small fish, or the large fish eating the smaller fish… Why couldn't Jak have understood? Jak was the larger current, his path straight with a hard pull, but she was the trickling stream. She had to think about each move before she made it, she had to examine things carefully and make an effort to get past obstacles. Why couldn't she be a strong current, like Jak. Why couldn't Jak be a slow, steady stream? Why did he have to be a tugging river?

Keira sighed and threw a small rock that she found on the pier into the center of the gathering current. She watched it swirl about, being pulled here and there, until, finally, the small stone hit bottom. Keira felt like the stone now, being pulled about until she finally hit rock bottom. Keira tried to choke back her tears, but it was impossible. She was overwhelmed with emotions and she needed to cry. Her salty tears of pain dripped off the tip of her nose into the water. She was once again aware of the sickening sloshing and got to her feet, wiping away the tears furiously. She took a few deep breaths and continued back the way she had come.

I, she decided, will become a river.