Chapter 11, Objection

They'd had to wait two days for a ship to head to Kras. Now that the championship was over and autumn wore on, the tourism trips – a luxury concept to begin with – had faltered for the season. And then it took almost ten hours to get to Kras, during which Daxter popped sea sick pills like candy just to be able to keep upright. They spent half the night up on the deck so he could get fresh air, wrapped in a blanket against the cold wind.

Kras became visible long before any silhouette of buildings peeked above the horizon. The first view of it in the early morning's darkness was a distant glow rising from the far ocean and illuminating the heavy clouds in a mishmash of colors. The light of dawn melted the worst of it away from the sky, but by that time the ship was close enough that the thousands of neon signs could compete with the sunlight.

The harbor was deserted save for dock workers, toiling away under the cold street lights.

"Aw, no welcome committee?" Daxter commented as he took a glance over the peaceful scene, leaning against the ship's railing. "It's almost like they don't care!"

"If they don't, they will soon," Jak said in that very special quiet voice that meant a lot of things were going to be very broken very soon.

Daxter let out a hoarse laugh, but there was a hard edge to it.

They walked off to the vehicle deck, aware of the dock workers watching them. Minutes later they were tearing down the familiar streets, sliding through the somewhat slower than usual morning traffic. It was that strange hour where the night people and day people were switching places and everyone was sleepy. That made it a simple trip to the Bloody Hook.

They had no idea where to find Rayn, but she would know where they would head first, even during this insanely early morning. Neither one doubted that she'd known they were coming long before they touched shore.

They hadn't needed to talk about where to go; it was the most logical place.

Razer's presence in the pub was immediate confirmation. His red coat made him a bright spot amongst all the other dull patrons, and he had the gall to not look the least bit sleepy as he glanced around at the door chime. At first glance he was alone by the bar, but it was safe to assume that everyone else there was on his side.

"Hiya, sunshine!" Daxter cheerfully shouted in his most shrill voice, making more than one person there growl. "Didn't know vampires were awake this early!"

Then Jak entered behind the redhead, and the annoyed atmosphere thickened with tension.

During the races, he had worn a tight fit racing uniform. Now, his clothing was simple, ragged at the edges, and dusty with desert sand. He wasn't a racer, he was a Wastelander.

He wasn't their Jak.

"I heard you were in town," Razer said, lowering his eyelids slightly as the two of them approached. "How sweet of you to come visit me."

"We don't have time for any of your crap, psycho diva," Daxter snarled. He made a motion towards Jak, who hadn't changed from his defensive stance. "We can do this with a light show or with dark poetry. And lemme warn you, the light show involves tentacles."

"Is that a threat?" Razer responded, but he raised his hands in a pacifying motion very quickly.

In any other situation, Daxter would have gladly spun that to see if he could actually make the smooth operator uncomfortable, but he wasn't in the mood. This was business.

"You've got one of our big pals here," he said, fixing Razer with a glare. "Sig."

"We do?" Razer said and blew out a cloud of smoke, gazing at the two of them through the haze. "That is news to me."

"Playing hard to get doesn't suit you, ya know," Daxter said with a sneer. He whipped two fingers out to point towards Razer and his smoke cloud. "And just a pro tip, if you're gonna play innocent, try to wipe the sarcasm outta your eyes."

Razer just gave him a long, bored look.

"The game's up, bub, so cough out the intel before we give you the squeeze," Daxter said, and proceeded to bluff through his teeth. "We've got peeps who said they saw him with you and your goonies. Big guy like him stands out, ya know."

Everyone in the bar shifted, either preparing to duck or reaching for their weapons. Except Razer and the two young intruders, who just stood there like statues for a moment, mutely challenging each other.

Razer glanced at Jak, and dark eco crackled at the hero's fingertips. They weren't going to play this game the mafia way.

With a soft sigh, Razer crushed his cigarette in the ashtray and stepped away from the bar, crossing his arms.

"And what if he doesn't want to see you?" he said in an even voice, looking between the two of them.

"Yeah, lookie here, we know what Sig did, and we wanna have a chat with him about it," Daxter said. "So you just tell us where he is."

"How unfeeling!" Razer sighed. "You must understand that your handsome friend has been in a very… compromising situation since he's come back here. And here you are, ready to trample upon his wishes."

"Uh-huh, yeah." Daxter scoffed and sneered. "See, we trump all of your butts with a few years of knowing Sig better than any of you, so don't even try to tell us what he wants."

"Where is Rayn?"

Jak's voice was low, and calm. And it made a shiver of terror run down every spine in the room except his and Daxter's.

Even Razer needed a moment. Then he cleared his throat and his usual smug expression returned.

"I'll be sure to let Rayn know you'd like to speak with her," Razer said, patting Daxter's shoulder in a patronizing way.

Both Jak and Daxter were too busy glaring at that gesture to notice where Razer's other hand drifted.

"But I can't guarantee that Her Highness will grant you an audience," Razer added and drew back. "She's a very busy woman these days."

"If Rayn knows anything about Baron Praxis," Jak said in that same voice, "she knows she doesn't want me loose in her town."

He turned, Daxter following with one final glare.

And they were gone, the door slamming shut so hard that the windows jangled.

Razer leaned back against the bar, looking perfectly unaffected. However, he allowed himself to let out a long, slow breath. Of course Rayn knew about Baron Praxis. Everyone who paid attention did.

Yet it was glaringly obvious to Razer that his new boss was incapable of connecting the dots in this case. She didn't seem to take it seriously.

Razer, on the other hand, felt that keeping Sig was definitely not worth all the destroyed buildings and piles of corpses that Jak was prepared to leave in his wake. Rayn might very well end up as one of those bodies, and that would leave a dangerous power vacuum on top of the reconstruction bill.

Also, forcing him to get out of bed and head to the Bloody Hook just to greet those two at this time of the day was just unforgivable.

Outside, the two young men didn't exchange one word until they reached the Sand Shark.

"I know he's a big guy, but it'll be like looking for a lurker in the market district," Daxter said, gazing down the street in front of them. But he slipped down in the seat beside Jak, schooling his face into a determined expression.

"Then we'll turn things upside down until she hands him over," Jak growled, eyes set on the road as he twisted the wheel and stomped on the pedal, sending them roaring down the asphalt strip.

One thing Kras had over Haven was the speed of the traffic, even now when the city was awakening properly. There was almost never any kind of standstill, even without the inability to move several feet up or down in the air like the zoomers of Haven city. Kras had been constructed to allow racing pretty much everywhere, and speed limits hardly existed.

Of course Jak put every last one of the other drivers on the streets to shame, weaving in and out of every given opening to get where he wanted. It was still aimless, however; neither one of them knew where they wanted to start. Daxter let Jak head wherever his instincts pointed. That tended to work out messy but for the best.

Trying to think of something that could help, Daxter shifted on his seat. That was when he felt that there was something in one of the pockets by his waist. He dug into it and drew out a piece of paper. He stared at it for a second, at first surprised that it was even there and then even more at who must have placed it. Still staring, he reached out and poked at Jak's arm.

"Jak… Jak, clue."

Jak took a glance and then quickly slid into a parking spot along the road so that they could look at the message together. It was written in a quick, elegant hand which neither of them recognized, but it was easy enough to guess.

Rayn is blind to the risk vs. reward. Try around here.

And a short list of street names.

"From Razer?" Jak said, plucking it from Daxter's hand to glare closer at it.

"Must be, I sure didn't have it before. This smells like a trap," Daxter said, crinkling his nose.

"Good." Jak started the engine and sped out of the white parking square, ignoring the shocked honks from the car that had been coming down the street behind them.

"I knew you'd say that." The resigned sigh was brief, however, and caused more than habit. Daxter's face was settling back into a resolute frown even as the breath passed over his lips. Jak's scowl never let up for a moment.

Seconds passed. Then realization struck.

"Ew!" Daxter exclaimed. "Razer stuck his fingers down my pocket!"

Jak barely avoided swerving onto the sidewalk. He turned a corner and slowed down, just to give Daxter a look that slapped the half-serious, half-joking grimace right off the redhead's face.

"Uh…" Daxter rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. "Well… he did."

"Don't joke about stuff like that," Jak said in a low voice.

Not angry.

Uncomfortable.

"Sorry." Daxter reached out and brushed his fingers over Jak's hand on the gear stick.

Jak let go for a moment, turning his hand over so he could grasp Daxter's hand and give it a squeeze to show that the apology was accepted. That was all they needed.

"Alrighty, let's go Sig-hunting!" Daxter cheered as Jak let go of him and returned full focus to driving.

Sig wasn't sure how long he had been sitting on the floor of that dusty, empty room. It didn't matter.

The cut on his cheek and the small burn mark at the base of his throat still smarted, even though the former had closed to an uneven red split and the latter had turned from a fat, swelling bubble of pus to a slowly healing, pale lump. They had to heal naturally, because Rayn had declared that he wouldn't get any eco salve since he ought to feel it. To learn.

Then again, she also thought there were a lot more under his clothes. He got away easy this time, all things considered. But there would be a next time, and Rayn might not let Razer take care of future punishment alone. Not that he expected Razer to always be so altruistic. It had just suited the man this time.

It didn't scare Sig. It was just a tired conclusion, that fell through his mind and settled into the smothering bitterness that numbed everything in him.

Something had died when Razer called him a slave.

He wasn't sure why he had been sent to wait in this empty apartment. Rayn had been upset about something and told him to go to this place and wait. For what, he didn't know. And he didn't care.

He heard tires screech against the concrete in a nearby street but didn't think much of it, as it was a common sound is this godforsaken hellhole. Minutes slipped by, and he just sat there on the floor staring up at the cloudy sky through the window.

Had he watched the street, he would have seen it coming.

Running steps echoed in the stairwell far away, hard boots slamming against the floor of the corridor. A few quick words outside, and he only caught the last few:

"Who cares if it's the wrong one!?"

He was getting up and moving further into the room, expecting an attack. His brain didn't catch up with the familiar voice.

And then eco crackled, and Dark Jak tore down the door as had it been made of paper.

"Knock, knock!" came a shrill shout after the demon, and Daxter's face became visible in the gaping door-hole.

If the damn window hadn't been so damn close to the door and thus Dark Jak, Sig would have leaped out of it. But he'd have to go through Jak for that. His hounded instincts acted completely against his nature, instead.

He recoiled.

"Sig!"

Jak transformed even as he called it, and Daxter rushed up beside the blond, holstering his guns.

"Whoa there, buddy. You look like total crap," Daxter commented.

Sig staggered further back when it looked like they would get closer. His head throbbed, and he pressed a hand to his face.

Not this, not this, no…

"Leave," he snarled. "Leave!"

His back hit the wall and he leaned against it, scrunching his eye shut. Couldn't bear to look at them, couldn't bear that they'd see him like this, that they'd find out—

"We're not going anywhere without you!" Jak growled back.

Sig could only shake his head, waving at them to not come any closer.

His communicator beeped and he froze. Nausea poured through him as he fumbled for the device, grasping it and pushing the button to answer. He didn't want to, but he moved as if controlled by an outside force.

"Sig! Leave that place right now!" Rayn's sharp command lashed out even as he was still raising the communicator, and he squinted to meet her glare from the screen. "I'll give you new coordinates as you move, just—"

"Ugh, Rayn! Way to butt in on our boys' club meeting," Daxter drawled, too loud for her to miss. Rayn's eyes widened and her mouth snapped shut to a thin, grim line.

Unwatched, Jak unhooked his own communicator from his belt and pushed a few buttons.

"You be quiet, Daxter," Rayn icily said, recovering from the first shock. "I know it's you. And you better get your long, freckled nose out of my business."

"Ooh, you're breaking my heart, babe!"

Daxter theatrically slapped his hands over his chest and staggered backwards. As if this was funny. As if there was any reason to smile left in the world.

"Daxter, stop." Sig groaned, pressing a hand to his good eye. Everything spun around. "Stop. She's got… she's got me. I can't— you gotta—"

The speakers on his communicator were sophisticated enough to transfer Rayn's small, pleased scoff. It made him grit his teeth, hating that she had to show off in front of Jak and Daxter. They'd only come to help, he knew, he knew it so well it burned, and yet…

"So," Rayn said. "There you have it. I know that you and Jak can be difficult to deal with, but I must ask you to leave the premises. You are not welcome here." Her tone changed to a more diplomatic, but just as smug, one. "In fact, I could inform you that you owe me your lives, so you had better think twice before you start causing trouble."

Daxter glanced around, and Jak straightened, giving a thumbs up. While Jak never let up his scowl, a grin broke on Daxter's face as he looked back at Sig.

"Got another VIP wanting a word with you," the redhead said, and Jak flipped his communicator around.

"Sig, you utter fool!" roared from the speakers.

Jak had turned the volume up to make the voice loud and clear, so that it would reach the microphone on Sig's communicator. He might not have needed to, though.

Damas was absolutely terrifying when he got angry. But this time, every harsh, furious word flowed into Sig's ears like a drop of healing balm.

"Get back here right now! You're on forager duty for the next year!"

"Sig!" Rayn shrieked, all of her bureaucratic finesse shattered in one fell swoop at the sight of how Sig's expression changed.

He had to swallow hard to find his voice, staring at Damas's glowering face on the small screen. All the tension that had built up over the past months fled his body and he almost crumbled to one knee, but braced himself against the wall.

Damas hated weakness. And Sig was not weak.

"Yes, Your Lordship," he said, and dropped Rayn's communicator.

"Sig! You can't— father gave you to me—!"

Rayn's high-pitched protests shattered under Sig's heel to the communicator. It crackled angrily, and cracked pieces of its hull and screen clattered against the floor as he kicked the device across the room.

"Whoa," Daxter commented, looking after it as it crashed back on the floor. "Never thought she was such a brat."

He looked up as Sig heavily thumped against the wall, running his hands through the thin layer of hair growing on his head as he bent his neck backwards, groaning. Looking like he could breathe for the first time in ages.

"Are you hurt?" Jak asked, finally noticing the cut on Sig's cheek and the blister on his throat.

"Yeah." Sig breathed out, giving them an exhausted smile – exhausted, yet it could still have illuminated a dark room. "But it'll be okay."

"Good," came Damas's voice from Jak's communicator. He sounded as strict as always, but there was one of those rare, faint smiles in his tone. "Then move out, on the double."

"Your Lordship, I…" Sig's head dropped forward and he massaged the back of his neck. Wasn't sure where to start, ashamed and grateful and sheepish all at once.

Jak silently offered the communicator and Sig took it, cradling it in his hands to face his King properly. At first Damas looked impatient, as his order to get moving was not immediately heeded, but then a soft sigh flowed through his nose and he shook his head.

"Were we correct in surmising that you were blackmailed, because you provided Krew with the black shade?" he asked.

"He made a recording of me dropping it off," Sig muttered. "Rayn's gonna toss it all over the place now."

There was no way she would let him get away without at least that revenge, if she couldn't have him back or kill him.

He'd been convinced that it would destroy him if they found out. However, in the face of the confession and information, Daxter only scoffed and rolled his eyes, Jak shook his head and Damas pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I will say," Damas said, "that I'm glad I found out about this so much later."

"When I first let you in about the poison—" Sig blurted.

"Yes, I was not in a state of mind where you could have safely confessed your part."

That, at least, saved Sig from feeling like a complete idiot. Only later did he take in the fact that Damas had, for his sake, admitted to being fallible.

"It doesn't matter. You had a mission to complete." Damas leaned a little closer to the communicator on his end, scowl digging deeper into his forehead. "But I take issue with you deserting Spargus. I ought to have you take all your arena tests again." A pause, and then he smirked. "Actually, I will."

"Oh boy, gladiator fanman strikes again!" Daxter muttered in the background. Then, louder, "Eh, you're not gonna pit Jak and me against Siggy for the third one, though, right? Right?"

"I'll think about it," Damas said. The smirk melted back into his usual grim expression. "Enough talk. Get out of there."

Sig was glad that he was, at least for the moment, spared the confession that he had destroyed his war amulet. But even the rant he'd get for that would be music to his ears.

"Yes, Your Lordship," he said.

Damas cut the line on his end, and Sig handed Jak's communicator back.

"There's a ship leaving in about an hour," Daxter said as the three of them hurried down the hallway outside the apartment, their footsteps echoing loud and clear. "Anything you wanna pick up before we blow this rotten pie stand?"

"Yes," Sig said. He could not stop grinning, and it widened even more as he said that.

The door on the brothel could only be opened through the code lock, if one played by the rules. Sig just kicked the door in.

The receptionist sitting by her desk near the entrance jumped up and recoiled, her face turning ashen as she stared at him stepping over the wreckage.

"Morning," he said, trying not to laugh as he waved the cloud of dust aside. Her fear and shock couldn't dent his good mood, but he also wasn't cruel enough to make it worse unnecessarily. "I just wanna pick up Taraxa."

"You— uh—" the petite woman stammered.

"Taraxa," Sig repeated, calmly.

Swallowing hard, the receptionist leaned forward and pushed a few buttons on the intercom on her desk. It beeped a few times, before it finally crackled and Taraxa's sleepy, confused voice rose from the speakers.

"Wha…?" she yawned.

"Taraxa, get down here," the receptionist said in a high-pitched voice. "Right now. Please."

"Right… right away!" Taraxa responded, alarm chasing the grogginess out of her.

It took only half a minute before she appeared at the top of the stair beyond the reception, wrapped in a morning coat and last night's make-up still smeared on her face. She stopped, eyes wide and confused as she saw Sig. He reached a hand towards her.

"I'm getting outta here," he said. "Wanna come along?"

Hope and doubt flashed back and forth in her stare.

"I… they took my passport!" she blurted.

"Mine too. But I've got an escort."

She stared at his grin for a second. Mad hope won out and she spun around, yelling over her shoulder:

"Let me just get dressed!"

She disappeared around the corner, and Sig crossed his arms to wait. The grin hadn't budged an inch.

"Sir…"

Sig looked back at the receptionist, who pressed herself to the wall and wrung her hands against her chest.

"Please…" she croaked. "I've heard… but please— Miss Rayn has done so much good for us on the ground— and the families will start fighting…"

The grin got a dent, but only enough for Sig to scoff.

Rayn should be grateful that the only thing he could care about right then was to get the hell out of Kras and never, ever look back. And that they had to hurry to catch the next ship.

It was strange seeing somebody beg for Rayn's life, though.

He pushed that aside as Taraxa reappeared, still wrapping her coat around herself as she hurried down the stair. All she had on her legs were fishnet stockings – the coat was probably the most covering clothes she owned.

"Is there anybody else who needs a lift out of here?" Sig asked.

Taraxa paused for a moment, but shook her head.

"Not that I know," she said.

"Alright."

They exited, followed by the receptionist's dazed stare.

"How will we get on the—" Taraxa started, but then saw the Sand Shark that was carelessly parked half-way up the walkway, its motor still running.

Daxter hung over the frame, head cocked to the side as he made a greeting salute. Noticing the two leaving the brothel, Jak leaned further into sight and gave Sig a half-smirk.

"Everyone rescued?" Daxter asked.

"Is that…" Taraxa's voice faltered.

Sig glanced at her, but there was hypnotized amazement in her eyes rather than fear of the legends before her. He barked out a laugh, giving her a start.

But they both looked up as there was a sound of several loud, heavy cars tearing down the street. They turned the corner and headed straight for the small gathering. Sig's grin turned bloodthirsty.

He didn't mind the intervention at all.

"Ooh, Rayn doesn't want us to go!" Daxter cooed, grinning from ear to ear as he leaned out of the car to wave at Sig.

Taraxa recoiled, but Sig stretched out his arm in front of her.

"We're covered," he said with a grim smirk.

The cars formed a jagged half circle on the street, blocking both ways out. Those weren't just regular cars, but combat racing monster vehicles with their guns aimed at the Wastelanders' car. Thugs stuck their heads out of the windows and leaped out of the cars, hollering insults and threats.

Sig didn't see Razer amongst them and it didn't surprise him. That man was far too smart to get roped into this. He did see Shiv though, who sported a black eye and a murderous glare from their last encounter.

"Now you've done it, you slobbering—"

And then the taunt stuck in Shiv's throat as pure white, glowing tentacles sprouted up from the top of the Sand Shark and a shimmering silhouette of Jak raised itself up and out of the car on them.

Jak hadn't had reason to change during the championship. There had been a sense of pride in being able to fight their competition on equal terms, without cheating or fighting.

Now, all at once, the thugs realized that those crazy rumours had been true.

"I told you the light show involved these, but did you listen?" Daxter hollered above the screaming.

Shots went off only to collide with a shield that held up easily under the onslaught, despite appearing to have the consistency of a soap bubble. The panicking thugs were so busy being freaked out by Light Jak that they didn't even notice Sig charging up his Peace Maker.

He didn't aim for them. The charge exploded in the street, pushing thugs and cars backwards and leaving a deep crater.

The thugs scrambled up, took one more look at the light creature and Sig standing there glaring at them, and fled.

"… me in! Report I say…!"

The voice crackled from a communicator dropped on the ground. Sig strode over and snatched it up, glaring at the flickering image of a frantic Rayn. She gasped when she saw him, starting to speak, but he cut her off.

"Shut your dirty mouth, ya damn snake."

"But I've got—" she stammered.

"I've got plenty ammo left. And also…"

Sig turned the communicator towards Jak, who let his Light form shatter and returned to normal – but only for a moment. With a furious roar his skin turned grey, horns sprouted from his head and claws from his fingers. He spun around and leaped into the air, punching downwards. A shockwave of dark eco rippled out from his fist as it hit the ground, tearing deep cracks into the already damaged asphalt. The nearest cars tumbled over, color and rubber melting off and the seats blackening from the eco heat, flames flickering across the cloth.

"You send a single goon more an' we'll come find you before we leave, Rayn." Sig's lips curled in a bitter, unforgiving sneer, tossing her own words back at her. "You ain't too dumb to understand that much, are you?"

"Sig! Please, be reasonable—"

But Sig instead did something he normally didn't stoop to, and let loose a string of Wastelander cussing to illustrate what he thought of her. While she was still struck mute by sheer shock at the vulgarity, he flung the communicator at the ground, so hard that its hull cracked. It sparked and beeped, and only white noise came out of the speakers.

Closing his eye for a moment he let out a deep breath of relief, letting himself savor how good that had felt. When he looked up, Jak was back to normal and leaning against the Sand Shark, both he and Daxter grinning. Taraxa too watched Sig from behind the car, pressing a fist to her lips and shaking with laughter as tears of relief streamed down her face. In the background, several women peeked out from windows and the door of the brothel – as did neighbors in nearby buildings.

"I didn't think there was a more impolite version of 'may the lice of a thousand cameldiles haunt your genitals,' but the more you know!" Daxter cheerfully said.

For once, Sig allowed himself to chuckle along with the loudmouthed redhead, riding high on the unspeakable feeling of freedom washing through him. He pulled himself together in a moment, though, not so drunk on the release that he forgot that they weren't home free yet.

"You okay there?" Sig gently asked Taraxa, offering her a hand as she visibly trembled while she scrambled into the car.

"Maybe… maybe a bit hysterical," she said in a clogged voice, a half-strangled giggle escaping her. "Sorry— need to digest… oh gods…"

"You called?" Daxter piped up, but Taraxa didn't even seem to register it. He got a snicker from Sig and a light bap on the head from Jak, though.

The ship cleaved through the darkening waters, leaving twin sets of fading, foamy waves and a trail of little whirlpools in its wake. In the east the fiery reds and warm purples of the sunset had long faded as the sun sunk, and the stars spread high above on the deepening blue of the heavens.

But the horizon behind the ship still remained aglow, the lights of Kras city reaching high enough to create a dim halo above the tall buildings. At this distance, the skyscrapers looked sharp and pointy. It made the battle honed mind think of a sleeping metal head.

The air felt chilly, but crisp and clean, and though Daxter absently massaged his arms while he chatted away, and Jak drew closer to him for warmth – both of them so used to the heat of the desert – neither one suggested going inside the ship. Because Sig just stood there, his good eye closed as he silently drank in deep breaths from the salty, fresh winds.

Taraxa sat curled up on a bench a little ways away, wrapped in a blanket and softly weeping over Jak's communicator as she spoke with her parents. She never drifted far from the men who had saved her, to ensure that nobody would come after her in Rayn's name.

"You better be prepared to take a shower, shave and otherwise pretty yourself up before we get back home, by the way," Daxter commented after a while, tilting his head with a slanted grin as Sig glanced at him. "'Cause you know His Great Crankiness is gonna want to yell at you in person the moment you put one foot in the sand."

That only got a slow shadow of a smile in response. Daxter chuckled and massaged one of his ears. Both of them were starting to go numb from the cold wind, but just this once he wasn't going to complain about stuff like that. It helped that Jak slipped even closer, warm breath brushing over the base of the other cold ear.

Of course, that caused even more goose bumps on Daxter's skin, but for a different reason.

"Oh, and fair warning, Tess might give you an earful too if she manages to snag us before we can sneak off," he added. "She was fretting apart. And you prolly won't escape the Dreadlocks Duo. Or Samos… or Keira…" He threw out his arms in a dramatic shrug. "You know what, just expect a whole army of people ready to rant out their relief at full volume. With our luck the two ol' seer crows told everyone we're coming, so they'll be waiting at the dock for you."

For once, Sig did not look the least bit annoyed at Daxter's rambling. In fact, he even let out a soft, rumbling chuckle.

"We were worried about you," Jak said, in that low, warm voice reserved for only his closest friends.

"Sorry," Sig murmured. He glanced back, towards the lingering glow of the city.

The dim light spread like a fan in the background, surrounding him. He turned away, smile gone as his gaze slipped towards the deck.

An awkward, heavy silence teetered over them, but Daxter tackled it head on. Nothing would ruin this moment of relief. The redhead spread his arms with a playful smirk.

"Ya know, that offer for hugs for everyone still stands, big guy," he said. "And you kinda look like you could use one."

He – mostly – meant it as a joke. Neither he nor Jak expected Sig to look at Daxter for a second, then grab both of them, hoist them up, and press them against his chest.

"… thanks, bush boys."

The End.

Author's note: And then of course, when they got back to the desert Sig had to explain what he had done with his armor, so Jak went and flew down the abyss to get it back for him.

Thanks again to my betas!

MAAAN this chapter was chathartic to write. I hope it was to read, too!

This story is so inspired by post-colonial literature it's crazy. Pretty much everything about how Sig is treated in Kras has some connection to things I read while studying that in college. Putting that literature degree to good use ;)