Title: Seeing is Believing
Summary: Believe me, this isn't want you want.
Point of View: Jak
Rated: T for Teen or PG-13

A/n: Eventually I WILL add something funny to this collection! I SWEAR IT. The angst will stop! Just...later. Right now? Well, I was told this fic had just the right amount so I didn't chuck it. It was interesting writing in first person again, especially present tense. I haven't written first person present tense in AGES. ANYWAYS, nuff'ah me, go read the fic.

.-.-.-.-.-.

"I want to see."

Brave girl.

Brave, stupid girl.

"No, Keira," I reply, glaring ahead. There's always point in the distance for me to focus on when I need it. It's a little black spot on the other side of the bazaar this time. I pretend it's Errol's fat head. "No, you don't."

"I believe I just said I did," she snaps back. Always had that bite to her, didn't she? Always was smiles and sunshine until she found something she wanted. Then she'd fight for it, tooth and nail.

Precursors, why does everything have to be so complicated when it comes to this woman?

"You don't know what you want," I snap right on back. And she doesn't. If she did, she wouldn't be asking this. Not now. Not of me.

"I know I want you back," she replies, the harshness retreating from her voice. She's changed tactics. Or she's just being honest. Either way, she coils those slim arms of hers around my own, thick, muscled limb, stopping me dead in my tracks. I tense up--it's natural--a reflex nowadays. And she loosens her hold in response. "See," she says, looking up into my clouded eyes currently filled with more than she'd ever want to know. "This is what I'm talking about."

"Seeing…" Dammit, what should I call it? I can't call that side of me me--not to her. "Seeing that isn't going to change anything," I finally blurt out, still drifting my vision away from her.

It'll only make things worse.

"I have a right to see, don't I?" she asks. Yupp, she's changing tactics, alright. Just winding me tighter and tighter around that pretty little finger of hers. And, damn, am I getting claustrophobic. "Daxter's seen it tons of times and so has Tess. Precursor's, Jak! Even Daddy's seen it once!"

"I don't need this," I mutter, just wanting to leave. I just want to get away from her right now, before I get so frustrated I snap whether she wants it or not. But her hand is back, this time digging so hard into my arm it almost hurts.

"How can you expect me to get used to this new you if you wont show it to me?" she cries in a desperate, shrill tone I don't believe I've heard before. I let out a rough, short sigh.

"Do you want to hate me?" I ask pointedly, turning to stare right at her. I've caught onto her little game now, or so I think. "Is that it? Do you want a reason to never see me again so you can get out of this guilt-free?" Her confused and hurt expression is almost refreshing.

"Of course not!" Her other hand finds mine and squeezes it despite how ridged it's become in her grip. "That's the complete opposite of what I'm trying to do!" She looks up at me and for a moment all I can focus on is how her eyes plead with mine. Mar, I've missed those eyes.

I never want to lose them again.

Sucking in a breath, I try to push all the selfish, suspecting, negative, dark thoughts out of my mind--just for a second. She's just trying to mend our relationship, I tell myself. She's asking this of me because she wants to help, not hurt. She wants to be with me. She loves me.

She'll never look at me the same again.

"I can't do that," I say, almost in a whisper. "It…you'll…" Even after all this time, I still can't find the words.

"Jak," she says softly, the hand clutching my arm loosening to come up and brush its fingertips across my cheek. It's supposed to be a comforting gesture, but it only sends shivers down my spine. "I love you. Please…let me love all of you."

Love all of me? There's nothing to love about what I become. It's tainted and darker than she could possibly ever imagine and she'll never forgive me for showing it to her.

Brave, stupid, naive girl.

I will say no to you. I will.

"Fine," my mouth mutters before mind can stop it. Way to go, Jak. You've officially been appointed the Moron of the Month. Just one more stupid, life ruining decision before you're bumped up to Dumb-ass of the fucking Decade.

Her face almost makes up for it, though. So relieved, so pleased.

So 'I just got my way'.

-.-.-.-.-

It's cold out tonight, but I know I don't feel it. She might, though. Good thing she brought that jacket along.

The stadium is deserted. We're the only ones here. That's why I picked it.

And that's what I keep telling her, but I don't think she's quite listening. She just wants to get this show on the road and go home.

"You wont like it," I mutter for the thirty-millionth time. She rolls those green eyes of hers right on cue before giving me a encouraging push in the shoulder.

"Just do it already," she says, an almost playful tone to her voice. I wonder bitterly how that long that'll last. Of course, I already know the answer; not long at all.

"Step back a ways," I instruct through my teeth. She does as she's told well enough, waiting impatiently for me to begin. I don't want to do this, but I've realized having her see me this way is a hell of a lot better than her catching my rage at its peek. Now I have some control at least. Now the bloodlust is contained. Now…maybe really is the best time.

And I let it all go.

It's no way as painful as it used to be. I've gotten used to it, I guess. My head instinctively retreats behind my hands as everything rearranges itself. Claws, fangs, horns, hair, skin--all on fire, all growing and shifting in only a few seconds. Things I don't realize are there in my normal form, but are so profound now--when I'm this way, crash down all at once and for a moment I forget what I'm doing here. I forget everything but the hate I have for one person and one person alone.

A tiny gasp pulls me out, though, just in the nick of time.

That's right. There's a reason besides survival or lost control that I let myself change tonight.

I force myself to face her, looking past the black film into the saucers she's placed on either side of that button nose. Despite how uncomfortable it feels in this form, I straighten my back, standing like a man--not a monster. And I wait. I wait for her to say something. To move. To scream. To run away.

But she just stares.

"Well?" comes a rasp from the back of my throat. I've never tried to talk this way. Scream maybe, but never talk. It doesn't sound pleasant but, then again, I didn't expect it to be. Nothing ever is when I'm like this. Still, the half-word-half-wheeze jars her out of her frozen state and she blinks.

Then she does something I never thought she'd have the courage to do: she takes several steps towards me.

I don't dare move an inch as she approaches. One wrong move could send a stray bolt of Dark Eco careening right in her direction. But soon she's less than a foot away, her eyes still wide, taking everything in. I can't read her at the moment. I can smell her perfume, her skin, her hair…her fear, and her pulse beats rapidly in my ears, but these eyes don't take details very well. All I see are the whites of her eyes…Then, slow and shaky, I see a hand rise from her side and make its unsteady way for my face.

Brave, stupid, naïve, suicidal girl!

"Don't," I hiss, taking a step back. Sparks sizzle around me but luckily none veer off to run through her. The hand snaps back instantly as the violet electricity jumps into life. She stumbles back a couple steps herself, holding the hand she was about to sacrifice close to her chest with her other. I let out a ragged sigh before letting the dark bleed away. My vision clears and everything returns to how it's supposed to be…for now.

"It's not…safe touching me when I'm like that," I explain, slightly relieved at hearing my usual voice leave my throat instead of the much scratchier version that had taken its place moments before. She nods mutely in understanding, and I don't need super senses to realize I've really done it this time. I look away. "Are you happy now?" comes the all too harsh question that's been burning a hole through my chest. I hope you are. Dear Precursor's, I hope you are and I never have to be that around you again. Not if I can help it.

She doesn't reply. She scrunches up her face to push back the tears, bites her lip, clings to the hand that could have touched the other me if I had let it, but doesn't reply.

I shake my head sadly.

So much for bravery.