Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I'm just playing in Naughty Dog's sand box.

-Chapter Seven-

Jak had dreams of sand again, this time without the confusion of cold water. It still didn't make any sense, but it didn't have to. The shadow-man felt familiar, and the warmth was... nice. It was easy to just let his mind drift through the fuzzy images and feelings.

When he woke up, the warmth didn't disappear. Where...? He blinked muzzily and sat up, scratching absently at his chest. With a start, he realized that the bandages he'd been wearing earlier were gone.

"The bandages were no longer necessary." The voice beside him was quiet, almost raspy, but it still made him jump. He whipped his head around to find a... boy? girl? sitting beside his cot. The girl, or boy-

Jak decided to cut a headache off before it started and just mentally labeled the kid a boy. There certainly wasn't anything about him to indicate otherwise.

The boy was staring at him intently, the expression made eerie by the paint on his face that matched his short white hair. Jak raised an eyebrow, then lifted the edge of his tunic to examine his skin. Sure enough, there wasn't a mark to be seen.

"The king says you absorbed a great deal of green eco," the boy answered his unspoken question. "He brought you to the infirmary only so that you could rest while someone kept watch. He was... concerned." Something flickered in the boy's eyes, as though he didn't approve of Damas being concerned about Jak. Or maybe he just didn't approve of Jak. It was difficult to read the expression on his face, and his voice was entirely too flat.

The boy held out a glass of water, which Jak accepted gratefully. Bright sunlight filled the room, heating the air to an almost uncomfortable temperature. Jak's throat felt raw and parched. The water was lukewarm, but it felt good as he swallowed. He handed the cup back once he was finished.

Who are you? he asked, raising his eyebrows as he gestured at the boy.

The boy ignored the question. He rose smoothly, his black robes barely making a rustle. "I was ordered to report as soon as you regained consciousness. Do not leave the room." The boy left before Jak could protest.

Jak grimaced. He was getting tired of people telling him to stay put, but it irked even more when it came from someone who didn't look older than twelve. He briefly entertained the thought of leaving anyway, but in the end decided against it. Damas would expect him to be there, and since Damas was the person he wanted to see, it would be easier to wait for the king. He could always explore Spargus later.

As he waited, he let his eyes take in the room. It was larger and had several cots lined up along the walls, two of which were occupied by bandaged figures. Both were sleeping, Jak noted. Maybe that was why the boy had been so quiet, so as not to disturb them. There were also shelves in this room, little more than planks laid across two mounted brackets. Bottles and jars and folded cloth - probably sheets and gauze - sat stacked on those shelves. The whole place smelled faintly of antiseptic. Jak rubbed at his nose.

Someone had taken his boots off, but they were sitting next to his bed, as was his gun. Jak swung his legs over the side and started pulling the boots on. He considered the gun for a minute, then left it where it was. He'd pick it up when Damas came. Until then, he'd just as soon leave the unfamiliar weight off his back.

His thoughts drifted back to that strange Precursor chamber.

A light eco vent, he marveled. Samos will never believe- He stopped that thought right there. Samos would never learn about it, at least not from him. Jak had promised not to tell anyone, and he always kept his word. Still, he wished that Samos was there. The sage bellowed and grumbled and scolded Jak, but he was old and wise and knew a lot of things. If anyone could figure out what was going on, it would be him.

The door opened and Damas entered, followed by the strange boy from before. The boy gave Jak one more dark stare, then got a jar from the shelf and turned his attention to one of the bandaged men. Damas went straight to Jak.

"Good," he said. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

There were a lot of ways that Jak could have answered that question, but before he could lift a hand to form a response, his stomach decided to speak for him. Loudly. Jak glanced sheepishly at the king. Sorry. I never did eat breakfast. He hadn't even thought about food until now. There'd been much more important things to deal with.

The corner of Damas' lips twitched. "I see," he said. "Well, that can be dealt with easily enough." All traces of amusement vanished, then, as Damas sternly looked him over. "Answer the question, Jak. How are you feeling?"

He must have meant something besides physically, because anyone who looked at Jak could tell that he was fine. Better than before, in fact, with his injuries gone. Jak took a moment to look inward and really examine himself, searching for whatever Damas was worried about.

He still felt just a little... raw was the best word he could find to describe it. He'd never tried to channel more than one kind of eco at a time before. Having all five rushing through him at once made him feel like a riverbed during a flood. Even after the eco was gone, parts of him felt thin and bare.

He held out his arm and rubbed his thumb across it hard enough to leave a mark. It was the only way he could think to describe the feeling.

Damas nodded. He probably understood exactly what Jak was saying from his own experience. "That feeling will pass," he said. "Though I would advise you to avoid channeling eco for a time. Now, come with me. You can eat while we go over the maps I had collected."

Jak picked up his gun and followed, more than glad to leave the room. But even with the promise of continuing his search for his home, there was still a question that burned in his mind. The temple. He lifted his hand to indicate the picture he'd formed of a very tall building. Is it all right?

Unfortunately, the question was met with blank incomprehension. "I do not understand what you just said," Damas said, a flicker of irritation on his face.

Jak sighed, and if he could have, he would have grumbled. Daxter would have understood. Considering the context of their conversation, he'd thought the question was pretty obvious. Switching tactics, he formed a circle with one hand and placed it over his eye. Sig?

That, at least, Damas could interpret. "No," he said. "I have not yet heard back from Sig. It takes several hours to get to the temple from here, and then the Metal Heads themselves must be dealt with. I do not expect to hear from him for at least another day."

As they stepped outside of the building, the full force of the desert heat hit Jak like a blast of air from the Lava Tube, and the sun itself was so bright, at least in comparison to inside the infirmary, that the teen immediately had to shield his eyes. Waves of heat rose from the ground, making it appear to dance and ripple. Suddenly, Jak was grateful for the boots he'd been given. The wrappings he'd worn on his feet in Sandover had been good and serviceable, but they'd still left his toes bare. Somehow, he didn't think bare toes in this sand would be very comfortable.

They were only outside for a few minutes, but it was long enough to make sweat start to bead on Jak's forehead. When he saw the door that he knew led to Damas' throne room, he thought that was where they were going. However, the king stopped in front of a different door.

"The throne room is not the ideal place to view important documents," he said as he keyed the door open. "This room is convenient both because it is near and it is dry. The maps we want are already on the table. Sit down and look them over. I will be back shortly."

And just like that, Jak was alone in yet another nearly empty room. Trying very hard not to feel cooped up - and silently promising to get out and explore in the very near future - the teen headed over to the large, paper-strewn table and sat down in one of the chairs. It was obvious that Damas had already spent some time poring over the maps. No one who had simply delivered them would have left them in such disarray. There were large maps and small maps, some with color and some that were just lines on paper. Some of them showed the same areas in differing amounts of detail while others were completely unique. Jak let his eyes drift over them, looking for anything familiar.

It quickly became an exercise in frustration.

That could be Snowy Mountain, but there's no mountain pass near it. He pushed aside that map in favor of another that had rivers and forests. But the Forbidden Jungle was near the ocean. I don't see anything like that on here. Another map. ...I don't even recognize any of these names.

The first map that caught his interest was actually one that had Spargus on it. Nothing on the map resembled his home in any way, of course, but Jak was fascinated nonetheless. Almost the entire continent was mountains and desert, with only two, maybe three places that were populated. Speaking of places where people live... His eyes scanned the map. Where's Haven City? But it wasn't anywhere on the map, which meant that it must be on a different continent. Curious, he started searching for a map that had both continents.

He'd just found what he was looking for when Damas came back in. The man was carrying something wrapped in cloth and a small jug, both of which he handed to Jak. "Sit away from the table when you eat this," he said sternly.

Reminded of his empty stomach, Jak immediately slid his chair back and unwrapped the cloth. Inside it he found a small loaf of bread and a strange, bumpy fruit that he didn't recognize. As hungry as he was, he didn't ask what it was before taking a bite. It was sweet and juicy and reminded him of something he couldn't quite remember. Jak licked his lips appreciatively, then set to work eating the rest of the food, with water from the jug to wash it down. When he was finished, the cloth served double duty as a napkin to wipe his fingers and mouth.

While Jak was eating, Damas had seated himself at the table, busying himself with looking over the maps. Once Jak scooted his chair back up, the man slid two pieces of paper toward him. One of them was the map that Jak had drawn. The other... "This is the map I found that looks the most like yours," he said. "What do you think?"

Momentarily forgetting about Haven, the teen picked up the second paper. As he examined it, he squinted and tilted his head. Then he tilted the paper. He laid it down next to his map to compare, even though he knew that his map wasn't really drawn that well. Yeah... I guess I can sort of see how they're similar... The names were all wrong, and the north-south symbols were slightly off, but there was a beach with an island just off the coast, a river that ran though a jungle, some mountains to the sort-of-north, and even some swampland. And maybe the person who drew this map wasn't that great, either, and that was why some of the distances between things were larger or smaller than they should be. But...

There's nothing that could be the Precursor Basin or the Fire Canyon on this map, and I know there's no lake in that area. Frowning, he pointed out the differences to Damas.

"Hnn." Damas' lips compressed into a thin line. "Keep looking, then."

Jak lost track of time as they sifted through the maps. His eyes began to ache after a while, but progress was made in the form of two stacks of papers, ones that were Definitely Not Where He Was From and others that were Close But Not Quite, Maybe Someone Made A Mistake. So far, though, none had matched his memory of the land around his home. Eventually, he came back to the map with Haven.

Wait... Jak's brow furrowed as he took a closer look. It was almost habit at this point to skip over all the names, but the shape of the coast... and there was a forest... and mountains... Slowly, Jak traced his fingers over the familiar geography.

But even this wasn't exactly as it should have been. There was a canyon, but no mention of lava. There were ruins in a place where Rock Village could have been, but Rock Village had been just fine when he'd seen it only a few days ago. That certainly wasn't long enough for it to appear as ruins on someone's map, even if it had somehow been destroyed.

And that was all ignoring the fact that Haven City was right where Sandover should have been.

"Did you find something?" Damas asked.

Jak huffed his dissatisfaction and shoved the map away. Scowling, he slashed a hand through the air. This isn't working. None of these maps look right.

Taking in the boy's irritation, Damas set down the map that he'd been looking at. He gave Jak a level look. "Getting frustrated does nothing productive, Jak, and will only hinder your efforts."

My efforts are already hindered, Jak thought peevishly. Feeling restless and tired of sitting at the table, he got up and began pacing. There's got to be a map that's missing. Even the ones that are close can't be right. Why would someone rename all those places when those aren't their names? Maybe Samos would-

A hand fell on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Jak blinked up at Damas.

"Perhaps," the king said, "we should do something else."

-o-

Killing Metal Heads, it turned out, was exactly the kind of release that Sig needed. The Wastelander grinned viciously as his Peacemaker blasted one of the ugly creatures to nothing more than a stain of blood and dark eco. "Boom, baby, boom."

A flash of light from across the room and a shriek that ended abruptly signaled the death of another Metal Head. "Right, then," his current partner called out. "I think this room's clear. Let's move on."

"Wait." Sig held up his hand. The other man frowned and opened his mouth, but Sig shot him a glare that shut him up. Profound silence filled the room.

Except...

There it is. I knew I heard somethin'. Adjusting his grip on his gun, the big man crept forward as slowly and quietly as death itself. It wasn't until he reached the corner of the room that he lunged forward, smashing the one unbroken pot that had managed to survive the fight.

"Gyah! Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

Startled by the thin, high voice, Sig pulled up short, his Peacemaker poised inches from the quivering form of something orange and fuzzy that was most definitely not a Metal Head. He didn't lower his gun, though. Just because it wasn't a Metal Head didn't meant it wasn't dangerous. "You so much as twitch funny an' you'll be breathin' from a new mouth," he threatened the thing. "Now who and what are you, and what the hell are you doing here?"

Slowly, as though the thing couldn't believe it was still alive, the whatever-it-was uncurled enough to peer up at Sig. Seeing the tip of the gun pointed at its face, it eep'd and suddenly it was like it couldn't talk fast enough. "It was an accident! I swear, it wasn't my fault! Maybe old Green Stuff bumped something, or Keira had the settings wrong, or maybe Precursor artifacts just don't like giant glowy monsters! Everything just exploded an' then I was here and there were monsters everywhere and I swear I will leave if you just tell me how!"

Sig and his partner exchanged glances. "What 'giant glowy monster?'" the other Wastelander asked.

"Dunno," the creature said. "Never seen nothin' like it. Er... d'ya mind not pointing that thing quite so close? I kind of like my nose where it is."

Whatever this thing was, it was easily intimidated. Sig had no qualms about using that to his advantage. With a dark scowl, he shoved his Peacemaker just that much closer. "Answer the questions, chili pepper. Who are you, what are you, and what monster were you talkin' about?"

The creature swallowed hard, nearly going cross-eyed as it tracked the tip of Sig's gun. "Daxter! My name's Daxter, I'm an ottsel, and like I told you, I don't know what that monster was. It just tried to pop out of that Precursor ring when we turned it on. I swear that's all I know!"

Sig stilled, his one good eye widening just a fraction. What?

Suffering no such shock, his partner snorted at the self-proclaimed ottsel. "Right. That's a likely story. I'll bet-"

Sig cut him off. "Your name's Daxter?" he demanded. He ignored the annoyed look the other man shot him.

Daxter's eyes darted nervously from one man to the other, then finally settled on Sig. He nodded. "Yeah. That's what I said."

The creature's name, the babble about Precursor rings and artifacts, the story of a monster that tried to come through - it all matched up too neatly. It couldn't be coincidence. But after lecturing Damas on the dangers of making assumptions, Sig wasn't about to do the same himself. Keeping his face unreadable, he asked, "The name Jak mean anythin' to you?"

Daxter's ears immediately perked up. "Jak?" he echoed. "Blond hair, blue eyes, a little on the quiet side? Yeah, we're best buds. Why d'you ask?"

Feeling something close to a grin slipping across his face, Sig finally lowered his Peacemaker. "Man, and here I thought the kid just couldn't draw."

-End Chapter Seven-