Jak did not sleep well that night.

The leaves and earth beneath him were growing more and more uncomfortable, the branches that made up his shelter rustled and let in a cold draught, and the insects would not leave him alone. Whenever he did eventually drop off, he would wake again soon after to the same problems, feeling little rested. He shifted around for hours, kept awake by the chill and the forlorn memories of home that would not leave his mind in peace. Soon he became hungry, but could not be motivated to crawl out into the cold and timeless night for his meagre food supplies. It was a terrible and frustrating feeling; he was so tired but could not sleep.

As the sky began to lighten and the morning drew near, Jak doubted he had obtained more than two hours' worth at the most, in short fragments here and there, and now it would be impossible to find more. At last, he gave up and depressively crawled out into the chilly morning. A new dawn now cast itself upon the beach, a gentle wind stirred the trees, and the sky was a beautiful shade between blue and red. The first thing Jak did, blinking tiredly, was reach for one of the fruits he had gathered yesterday to appease his hunger. They seemed a little riper already, and that at least gave him some extra energy and a little more resolve, but it did not slake his hunger.

He sat down in the sand, absorbing the early warmth of the sunlight and looking out to sea as he ate this pathetic breakfast. There was no sign of any aircraft out there in the empty sky, nothing or no one to come looking for him. He was not looking forward to another dismal day of trying to survive here. Right now he was even lacking the energy and drive to even get up. However, more wreckage had washed ashore in the night and was lying spread out across the sand, just like yesterday. Maybe the ocean had provided more useful objects that could help him.

This at least felt like something he could tolerate doing, something that provided him with a measure of hope. He assessed his priorities and plans for the day; first he would scavenge for more materials and food before it got too hot, and then use what he had found to keep him going and try to improve his shelter as best he could, make it stronger and more comfortable. He was also still very determined to try and make a fire; there had to be something on this island somewhere that could work. If he ran out of energy, so be it. Maybe he would be so tired that he could finally just collapse and get the sleep he had missed.

When the time came, he pushed himself to his feet, wincing as his injuries protested again, picked up his makeshift spear and the water flask, and said out loud, "OK, let's get to work."

He planned out his route: he would repeat his journey from yesterday, following the coastline around to where the rock pools were, collecting up debris as he went, and bring back some fresh crabs if he could catch any more, and if he was lucky, maybe some fish too.

Stepping out onto the bright sand, Jak surveyed the strewn wreckage all down both sides of the beach. He collected up every part he could, dropping the small ones into his backpack, but up ahead, his eye was drawn to a particularly large piece about a few metres up from the shoreline. As he came near it, he discovered it to be a grey padded seat, and recognised at once that it had come from another Hellcat Cruiser. It was intact and in good condition, and after his bad night of little sleep, this could be just what he needed to make a more comfortable bed for himself.

But what were those next to it? Jak looked closer with urgent surprise. There seemed to be regular depressions in the thick sand leading away from the chair, looking suspiciously like footprints. At first he thought they must be some of his own from yesterday, but then he realised that the tide had washed the beach clean in the night, and upon closer inspection, these looked fresher and deeper than any of his did. What was more, they led up the beach into a spot in the trees where he was sure he had not yet ventured.

Jak's heart jumped. Could it be...?

Someone else could have survived the battle and washed up here, and if they had arrived on a piece of a Hellcat Cruiser, they might even be someone he knew.

All tiredness forgotten in an instant, he chased the prints up the beach until the sand met the forest's edge, but there they disappeared in the undergrowth. If someone had walked through here, they must have gone straight into the woods, and might still be in there.

"Hey!" he called out as loud as he could. "Hey! Anyone here?"

The forest gave no answer, but the possibility of company was too great to ignore, and he had to find out for sure. Tightening his grip on the spear, he plunged into the trees, searching for any unnatural-looking disturbances in the undergrowth. Every few steps he would stop, look and call out, listening for any response or movement, but he could never detect any. If anyone were here, they were either too far away to hear or were deliberately trying to avoid him.

He trekked deeper still into the trees, and soon was at a part of the island he had not yet explored. The brush was growing thicker until he was wading through it at waist-height. He had no idea exactly where he was, or if his assumptions were even correct, but he was driven to not give up so easily, and searched on.

It was slow going, and the footprints had long been lost, but suddenly he broke through into a shaded clearing where the trees were thick all around. A column of sunlight beamed through a single break in the canopy, falling upon another small lake, its surface still and calm. He must be right at the island's heart. This place felt strange and peaceful. Too peaceful. There were no signs of life or any movement at all, and not a breath of wind. Even the ocean waves could not be heard.

Jak called out one last time in the enclosed space. "Hello? Is anyone here?"

His voice broke the insulated silence like a gunshot, but the silence closed back in again. He waited, starting to accept that he might have let his imagination run away with him, and that he was still all alone here. But then a distant answer came.

"Hey! Who is that?"

Jak's heart leapt in his chest again. That voice was one he knew. "Torn?" he shouted. "Is that you?"

"Jak?"

There was a rustling off in the trees to the left, and then Jak caught a glimpse of a figure fighting through the leaves.

"Over here!" he shouted.

The figure followed his voice, and very soon, Jak was standing face to face with none other than Torn. He looked bruised, his uniform was messed up and his skin was red with sun exposure, but the man was very much alive and broke into a relieved smile.

"Jak. It is you," said Torn, and they both clasped each other's hand, happy to see a familiar face again.

"In the flesh," Jak replied, smiling back and feeling truly optimistic for the first time in over a day.

"I saw you go down into the ocean," Torn said. "I thought you were a goner for sure."

"So did I, to be honest," said Jak darkly, "But it looks like we've both made it out alive. What happened to you?"

Torn tried to talk again, but his voice cracked dryly. "Man, I'm dehydrated," he croaked, then he looked at the lake. "Do you think this water's safe to drink?"

"I think so," said Jak. "I've been drinking the water from another lake closer to where I've camped up. Here." He offered Torn his flask, and Torn downed the entire contents.

Once he had drunk enough, Torn looked all around him. "So where in the hell are we?"

"On some island somewhere," Jak explained. "That's literally all I know. I've been here for a day already, just trying to survive. There's no one else here apart from us, as far as I know."

"Damn," said Torn, slumping his shoulders. "So we're stuck here?"

"Afraid so," said Jak apologetically, "But I've built up a small camp back by the beach. Come on, I'll show you."

Jak led Torn back through the trees, searching for the areas he was more familiar with. The woods here were tangled and thick, and they had to force their way through in places.

"So what happened to you after the battle?" Jak asked.

Torn told his story as they continued on their way. "You probably remember that I took a few hits and my cruiser caught fire," he began. "I'd lost flight controls, but you and Ashelin were doing a pretty good job of defending me, if I do say so."

Jak gave a small but proud smile to himself as this gap in his memory was now filled.

"But then I heard Ash shouting over the radio that you were going down, and I saw a glimpse of you falling through my window. We couldn't believe it had happened, but the enemies weren't letting up and we had no time to try and save you. They kept coming at us but my guns still weren't working, so Ash had to hold them off on her own. I tried calling for more backup but my radio cut out. I couldn't do anything. And then..."

Torn trailed away into momentary silence and came to a stop, finding it difficult to continue.

"What?" Jak prompted, turning back, but he could sense the terrible news that would come next.

"They got her," Torn said flatly. "Ash got shot down too."

They both came to a full halt. "No..." muttered Jak, as another heavy blow of grief struck him.

"I saw it," said Torn emptily. "They blasted her right out of the sky, and she went down in pieces."

"Shit..."

Jak was finding this hard to process. First Daxter, and now Ashelin; two friends who he had never dreamed of losing were now gone. After everything they had been through together, how could they both end like this? This was just wrong. He looked to Torn, and could tell that he was making a great effort to keep control of his emotions. The two of them had been close, at least as close as he had been with Daxter, likely more.

"Torn, I'm sorry," he said simply.

Torn tried to shrug it off. "Yeah..."

The two of them stood in awkward silence beneath the trees for a few moments, deep in reverent thought and not knowing how to proceed.

"Then what happened?" Jak asked finally.

"They came for me next," continued Torn gloomily. "I was a sitting target, and it was all too easy for them. Luckily I was already losing gradual altitude and didn't have as far to fall. I survived the impact, but the cruiser had had it. It sank into the ocean pretty quickly, but the seat came off and somehow stayed afloat, so I held onto that. Then the tide took me away from the battle fast and I drifted through the night and all the next day, searching for Ashelin or you or anyone else who was alive. I couldn't find anyone... and this morning I woke up here."

He stopped, knowing there was no need to continue.

"Well, at least we're still alive," said Jak, looking to the few positives. "But hey, if we made it then maybe Ash did too."

"I don't know, Jak. You didn't see it happen."

"But you know how tough she is; if there's anyone who could survive a battle like that, it'd be her."

Torn gave a mournful half-grin. "Yeah, that's true. It'd be a goddamned miracle though."

"I know how you feel, Torn," Jak tried to say consolingly. "I lost Dax too."

"Oh man," said Torn, looking up directly once more. "Sorry."

Torn never thought he would miss Daxter, not after all the annoyance he had caused him, but now it had actually happened, he was surprised how much he did. Still, he kept his words about it to a respectful minimum; he had never been very good with the compassionate stuff, as everyone in his Underground movement, Daxter included, had made very clear to him on numerous occasions.

But soon they resumed their walk in silence until finally they broke out at the coast again. They followed the sand and soon found their way back to Jak's camp. Torn looked around the sparse area with a grim look on his face, especially when he saw Jak's flimsy attempt at building a shelter.

"It's the best I've been able to do so far," Jak explained. "With that seat you brought with you, we can at least make things a bit more comfortable. I'll go get it. Make yourself... uh, feel at home, I guess."

Torn sat down on the grassy sand with nothing to do, nothing but dwell painfully on the losses he had suffered, until Jak returned with the seat, hauling it into the camp and laying it down beside the shelter.

Torn doubted, even with this seat to lie on, that his nights here would be any easier. The loss of Ashelin still plagued his mood and brought him down, adding to the misery he knew he would feel for as long as he stayed here on this island, separated from his home and his people.

"Help yourself to some food if you want," Jak said. "I found some fruits that grow in the woods, and yesterday I caught some crabs in a rock pool on the other side of the island."

Torn picked up one of the fruits and sniffed it despondently, before putting it back down. Even though he had spent a whole day adrift at sea without food, he just did not feel like eating right now. Come to think of it, he felt no motivation to do anything, except for figuring out how to get home as quickly as possible.

"Alright Jak," he said, "I think it's time we asked the most important question. How are we going to get the hell off this island?"

"Straight to business as always, huh Torn?" said Jak with a small smile, but Torn was very serious. "Well, I'm hoping the city'll send someone out to find us. If not, we'll have to find our own way back somehow."

Torn grumbled, not pleased with these vague and limited options. "That's what I thought. Jak, I have no intention of ending my days here, but if we're going to sit around waiting for a rescue, shouldn't we have some way of letting them know we're here? You still got your radio?"

"No, I lost it," Jak answered.

"Alright, that makes both of us. Guess we'll have to do it the old-fashioned way, and draw out a message in the sand. That way, any cruisers who come looking for us will see it from above and know we're here."

Jak listened and agreed. It seemed obvious now, but these were things he had never thought of doing yesterday. Just like back in the city, Torn's quick mind was already searching for an immediate solution to their situation, and Jak was feeling very appreciative for his company already. Together they could do this.

"Yeah, that'd give us a better chance," he said, "But it would take more work. Not only that, but we'll have to get more food for us both as well, and build up that shelter. By the way, did you manage to keep anything useful after the crash?"

Torn responded by proudly drawing out his signature curved knife, strapped securely into a sheath on his back.

"Excellent," said Jak. "That'll really come in handy."

"I'll start work on restructuring the shelter," said Torn, sheathing his knife again.

"And I'll go round to those rock pools and see if I can't catch me some more crabs," Jak added.

This was good. They were already planning well together as an efficient, organised team. Torn's military training had prepared him well for just such scenarios, and Jak was feeling a lot better about their chances of survival now he had someone to help him.

And so, Jak set off to do his fishing while Torn re-arranged and strengthened the shelter. He began by taking the longest, strongest log he could find, stripping it off its bark with his knife and carving the end into a tooth, about the length of his finger. Then he carved a notch of similar length and depth against one of the standing trees, until he could slot the long log into it, its other end buried in the sand at about a sixty-degree angle. It held pretty well. Then he harvested more branches to build proper walls and supports around it, incorporating segments of salvaged metal for rigidity, and stripped many of the large leaves to lay across them and fill in the gaps. He was actually enjoying all this work; it gave him something to concentrate on.

When Jak returned about an hour later, he found quite an impressive-looking half-finished construct. "Wow, you're really doing a great job," he said.

"Thanks," replied Torn. "They taught us survival skills back in KG training, in case we ever got stranded outside the city walls. Who'd have thought they'd come in handy now, huh? Besides, it would never last the way you built it."

"Just don't exhaust yourself," Jak warned. "It's getting hotter now, and you don't look like you could take much more sunlight."

Torn stopped briefly, a look of sad acceptance on his burned face. "How bad does it look?"

Jak tried to be polite, but Torn's usually pale skin was already looking very red from his day spent exposed at sea. "Just try and stay in the shade," Jak advised.

"Right. How'd you get on?"

Jak proudly emptied his bag to reveal another crop of speared crabs, freshly caught in the pools on the island's far side.

"Alright, good work," said Torn. "But how are we going to cook them?"

"Uh… haven't got that far yet," Jak admitted. "They're pretty OK to eat raw though. How are you at making fire?"

Torn frowned. "It's been a while. But maybe with the right kind of wood and a piece of rope… we could make a bow drill…"

For the rest of the day, Jak and Torn worked together to improve their quality of life on the island. Progress slowed somewhat as the sun was at its highest, but once it became cooler, Jak drew a large 'SOS' along the beach so as to alert any rescue vehicles who might fly over to their presence. Torn finished his work on the shelter as twilight loomed; it was now much sturdier and large enough to accommodate them both with room to spare. He had struggled with incorporating the Hellcat seat, however; in the end he had dismantled half the shelter and rebuilt it around the seat. Though it was large, there was really only enough room on it for one of them at a time, and its curved shape made any modifications difficult.

He discussed it with Jak before nightfall, and they settled on sharing it; both of them were tired and exhausted after their hard day of work and surviving, so they would split usage of it across the night. Jak let Torn take it first, as thanks for all the great work he had done on the shelter.

Finally they had another go at making a fire, and Jak was hopeful now that Torn was here to help, and to see if he had any better success. They hadn't found any of the exact materials that Torn thought would be ideal for the task, but he gave it his best efforts with what they had managed to forage, in spite of his depleting reserves of energy. He'd cut a long sheet of bark from one of the trees, lay a pile of dry moss in a depression at one end, and sharpened another thick, short stick, which he tried scraping quickly along the bark sheet towards the moss, like trying to light a match. He'd seen this done in his training years ago, but try as he might, he could not get even a spark, and he had to stop before he exhausted himself.

"It's no good. It just won't catch. Sorry, Jak." He put his materials to one side. "One thing we could try… if we found a shiny piece of metal or glass or something, maybe we could focus the sunlight onto this pile of moss."

"Bit late for that now," said Jak, looking out at the sun that was almost set. "But good thinking. Let's try that tomorrow."

As the sun's downward course was almost over, they spent the last hours of dying light eating crabs and fruits beneath the trees, reminiscing about their past and speculating about their future.

"What do you think's happening back in the city?" Jak wondered aloud.

"I hope everyone's coping without us," Torn answered distantly, staring out over the darkening waters. Even in the fading light, Jak could see just how shattered and sorrowful he looked. "It sucks, you know. I'm supposed to be the one protecting them. I hate being stuck here and not being able to do anything."

Jak could understand. As the frontman in charge of Haven's defence, he knew how devoted Torn was to his duties; he prided himself on always having something to do and always seeing to it expeditiously. Being stranded here on this island must be more unbearable for him than he showed. Truth be told, Jak was finding it hard to adjust too. This island was just so empty.

"We've got to get back there," Torn said with his trademark determination.

"I hear you, Torn," said Jak. "They've got to be looking for us."

"But that doesn't mean they'll find us," said Torn more lucidly, casting an eye to the SOS message laid out on the beach with a new sense of futility. "Let's be realistic, Jak. We're in the middle of nowhere, even we don't know where, and they might never even come close. Who knows how far away we are from the city? We need to start considering our own escape plans, Jak. I think we should build a boat as soon as we can, because I don't want to spend any longer here than we have to."

It was a rational idea and Jak agreed with it, but they were both too exhausted to delve into it earnestly right now. "Let's think about it tomorrow," Jak promised. "It's been a long day and we've worked hard."

Torn nodded. "Yeah. It has been a long day." He exhaled loudly through his nose and lowered his head. Jak could tell it was a gesture inspired not just by exhaustion.

"You holding out alright?" he checked.

Torn took a moment to answer. "Yeah, I'll survive. It seems I always do. But still, even if we do get back to the city somehow… I don't know how life's going to be without Ashelin…"

There was another break of mournful silence, one which Jak was unsure of how to counter. He felt the loss as well. "Torn, I'm sorry," he said again at length, and Torn said nothing. Jak watched, and then figured that perhaps what Torn needed the most right now was a moment alone. "I'm gonna go for a short walk. Why don't you try getting some sleep? You can take first go in the chair, if you like."

Torn still frowned, his eyes down in the sand, but the day's last light revealed a softer feeling on his face. He understood. "Yeah, thanks Jak. See you tomorrow."

Jak got up and left the area, moving further out onto the beach to watch the moon rise like a great pale eye over the sea. But he was concerned about Torn. The Freedom League commander was usually so focussed, driven and determined, and today he had shown that, but in his sorrow just a few moments ago he seemed lost and languished. Despite his tough and rugged attitude, Jak knew that he was taking this hard. Torn could be cold and stern, but he was by no means heartless. He understood his frustration and his impatience to get home, and he very clearly missed Ashelin, even if he wasn't showing it as much as he should.

Jak missed her too, and he found himself thinking now about their most memorable moments together, the good and the bad. He had fought alongside her as an equal in many battles, watching each other's back and kicking ass together. She had pointed a gun in his face out of moments of aggressive suspicion and mistrust, back in the tenuous context of the Metal Head Wars when all he'd really cared about was exacting his revenge on her father the Baron, in any way he could find. But once they had got to understand one another properly and cemented their allegiance and friendship, she had also treated him with respect and dignity, admiration and compassion, a firm friend and ally. She had even fought tooth and nail to prevent his unjust banishment to the Wasteland, back when the city was looking for someone to blame for all the pain and conflict that was suffered, risking her own reputation and seat in the council. Even though she ultimately failed to stop it, she still saved his life in the end, slipping him a tiny homing beacon upon his exile to ensure that he would be found. If it were not for her, he very probably would not be here right now, and his bones would be just another buried artefact in the desert.

With this realisation, he suddenly gained a much deeper appreciation for her and all she had done for him. But it hurt that he only saw this properly now she was gone and he was unable to express himself to her. She had certainly shown her appreciation for him on more than one occasion, most so in the brief, tender moment they had shared right after he had destroyed their final enemy outside the desert city of Spargus. He replayed the meeting in his mind, reliving the rewarding smile on her lips and the gentle touch of their faces.

Had she meant anything special by that at all? Or had it just been a spur-of-the-moment reaction? They had never really spoken about it afterwards, nor had she ever done anything like that since. It was tantalising, for now he might never know the answer. Whatever it had meant though, Jak still remembered it fondly, and it was one of his most treasured memories of her.

He lay down in the sand and looked up sadly at the emerging stars for a while longer.