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

-Chapter Eighteen-

The call came when Damas was inspecting the city gate. A storm had kicked up during the night, one of the worst that he had ever seen, lifting boulders and uprooting trees and tossing them around as easily as if they were sand. One of those boulders had struck the gate, and when they had opened it the next day, its movement was jerky and threatened to stick.

And then there was the matter of the boulder itself. With it sitting there right at the entrance, there was no way to get any vehicles in or out. Both problems, his people assured him, could be dealt with by the end of the day, but when it came to his city's defenses, he wanted to look into it personally.

But a call from Haven, from Sig who would only do so in the most dire of circumstances, was effective in shooting that plan to pieces. Not knowing what to expect, except that it couldn't be good, the king quickly excused himself and followed the messenger back to the communications room. Once there, he dismissed the only other man that was present before sitting down at the console and activating the call command.

"I'm here," he said briskly. "What happened?"

Sig's voice crackled with static when he replied, but the words were thankfully clear. "Shit happened," the man said bluntly. "I think Praxis is supplying the Metal Heads with eco. Don't ask me why. That's just who picked the stuff up after it was delivered, and I don't think it was a coincidence."

"What?" He couldn't have heard right. Praxis was ruthless and aggressive, and his plans were often radical, but surely the man wasn't stupid! What possible victory could he hope to gain by strengthening the enemy?

"That's not the worst of it," Sig went on. "Jak got captured and Daxter's down for the count, and the Metal Head leader made it sound like it's got somethin' nasty planned. Somethin' it needs an 'heir of Mar' to accomplish. Damas..." There was a moment's hesitation before the man plowed on. "What exactly is in Mar's tomb?"

The question caught Damas by surprise, and he tensed, not at all liking what it implied. Mar's Tomb was not something he had ever discussed, and for very good reason. He probably shouldn't have even told Sig that he had been to the place, no matter his trust in the man. Up until today, Sig had respected his reticence, never pressing for details. To have it come up now... "Why?" he demanded.

There was another moment of silence. It might have been lag in the communication, but to Damas it felt more like Sig was carefully weighing his words. "You remember how I thought that Jak might be related to you?" he asked. "Metal Head leader thinks so, too. Called him 'heir of Mar' flat out, then said they were goin' to his ancestor's tomb. Seems to think Jak can do somethin' there that'd help 'em take over the world."

Cold dread froze the blood in his veins. It couldn't be. No one should even know that that thing existed. But why else would the Metal Heads be interested in Mar's final resting place? How had they even found it? Walled up and buried in the heart of the city, the secret of its location should have been lost when Damas left. And Jak...

He still didn't think it was likely, but if the boy was somehow related to him, it would give the Metal Heads access to the secrets within the tomb. Including...

The decision was made before he opened his mouth to speak. "Where are you right now?"

"Back room of Krew's bar," Sig answered promptly. "Why-"

"Be at the landing platform when the next transport arrives," Damas cut him off. Cutting off the transmission, he stood up and swiftly strode from the room. With the threat of what the Metal Heads might be doing, there wasn't a moment to lose.

-o-

Sig frowned as the line suddenly went silent. The last part of that conversation had unsettled him more than he cared to admit. Damas knew something, and whatever it was, it was spurring him to act as though there was no time to explain. That only confirmed that whatever the Metal Heads were up to, it posed a very real and very immediate threat.

And now Sig had to sit there and wait. Oh, he spent the time productively enough, loading up the ammo in both his and Jak's guns and getting his own minor injuries tended to after the medic was done with Daxter, but that didn't change the fact that he felt like he was just sitting around while the Metal Heads hatched their plans. Eventually, he left the bar and headed out to the landing pad, glancing up at the overcast sky even though he knew that the transport couldn't arrive this early. No matter how urgent this situation was, the thing could only fly so fast.

Still, only strict discipline kept him from pacing as he waited for whoever Damas had decided to send. It felt like forever before he finally spotted something flying in that was too large to be a zoomer. With no small amount of relief and impatience, he straightened up, ready to grill his backup as soon as the man or woman set foot on the dock. The transport settled down and the back door opened.

And every one of Sig's questions died on his lips. With a sharp intake of breath, he nearly choked on the exclamation that almost came out instead. "D- Sir! What the hell?" Because even with a cloak and a brown scarf that wrapped around his head and the lower half of his face, Sig would know the Wasteland king anywhere.

Damas glanced at him, then shook his head. "Not here." With staff in hand, he stepped off the ramp, moving as briskly as he could without drawing attention and never once hesitating in his direction. This had been his city once. Even if he no longer ruled it, a part of him would never forget. Sig fell into step beside him.

Nothing more was said as the two made their way across the water and started circling the port, turning only when they reached the midway point and the road that would take them toward the heart of the city. A knot of tension formed in Sig's stomach which he did his best to ignore. What was Damas doing here? He'd been banished from the city and publicly declared dead. If anyone realized who he was...

No. That wasn't what was truly bothering him. If Praxis or the Krimzon Guard learned that Damas wasn't dead, that was something they could deal with. They could fight back to back and escape, or go out in a blaze of glory. The danger was real, but it was something he knew how to handle. The real issue was the fact that Damas had left his city and come to Haven himself. If the king had to deal with this both immediately and personally, it said too much about how dire this threat really was.

And he still didn't know what it was. That was the part he liked least of all. It took every bit of his self restraint not to ask the man again what was in Mar's tomb. Damas would tell him when he needed to know and not a moment before.

That moment came sooner than Sig expected. The path they had taken took them past a huge statue of Baron Praxis, but instead of leaving it behind, Damas stopped on the other side and stepped off the path. He reached out a hand to touch the blank wall at the base, and though Sig couldn't see his face, he could hear the frown in his voice.

"Something is wrong," Damas said, keeping his voice low. "Someone has tampered with this wall."

Sig furrowed his brow, not understanding the significance of the wall. "Maybe someone crashed into it and it had to be repaired." His eyes roamed the street as he spoke, making sure that no one was paying too much attention. There weren't any Krimzon Guards in his immediate view, but that didn't mean they couldn't be called if someone thought they were acting suspiciously.

Damas' eyes narrowed. "No," he said grimly. "It's more than that." With his fingers, he drew Sig's attention to a thin line that cut neatly through the stone. From a distance, no one would be likely to notice it, but this close, Sig could easily trace it up, around, and back down in the shape of a large rectangle. "Someone who did not know how to open the door cut a hole through this stone."

Suddenly, pieces began falling into place more rapidly than Sig could keep up with. A door, a destination, a threat, the need for Damas' presence - added up, it could only mean one thing.

"Yes." Damas nodded as he withdrew his hand. "This is the door to Mar's tomb." His eyes darkened. "And someone has beat us to it."

-o-

Someone was touching his face.

warm sun on his skin and sand, so much sand, sand everywhere

Jak's eyes fluttered, but he didn't want to open them. Opening them meant waking up, and waking up meant... something. Something unpleasant.

a shadow fell across him, shielding him from the sun, and he could see blue eyes and a smile, blue eyes that could almost be purple

The hand moved, ignoring his reluctance, and started patting his chest. Thankfully, it avoided the places where Jak hurt the most, but it still managed to provoke a wince.

Someday...

He cracked his eyes open just a slit, the world swimming with a dizzying blur of dreams and fuzzy shapes.

Someday, you will be a great warrior...

Sun and sand and torches and stone, and there was someone sitting next to him who was too small who towered over him.

Just like...

Small fingers touched his cheek again, and as he blinked the last bits of dream away, he found that the hand belonged to a boy who couldn't be more than a few years old, dressed in blue overalls and a leather cap. The boy stared at him with concern, then raised his green eyebrows in silent, exaggerated question.

Are you all right?

No. No, he wasn't all right. Jak hissed with pain as he tried to sit up, putting one hand behind him to help support his weight. His other arm hung useless at his side; it hurt too much to even think about using it. The other injuries he'd received from the Metal Head's claws hurt just as badly, and they protested even the effort it took for Jak to sit up.

But he had to see where he was. He needed to understand his current situation. The Metal Head had done something to him, trapping him in some kind of translucent sphere, and then... He couldn't remember anything after that. He looked around. Where was the Metal Head leader?

It was just him and the boy, though, in a room with a high, vaulted ceiling and stone walkways that arched over a seemingly endless pit. A huge statue dominated one side of the room, the side that they were on. There was a door on the other side, pieces of it lying cracked and shattered on the platform in front of it, but the bridge that connected to the platform was broken. The only other distinguishing feature in the room was the large Precursor ring which hovered in the air on level with the statue's chest. It looked just like the ring that had taken Jak to this strange part of the world, except that there was no light shining inside its spinning pieces. It looked... dead, for lack of a better word.

The boy patted his arm, drawing Jak's attention back to him. Oh, yeah. He'd asked a question. He shook his head, but forced a smile for the kid's sake. Don't worry. I've been through worse.

Not looking very reassured, the boy pointed at his arm and his bloody shirt and vest. His blue eyes were wide and his lip trembled. He was so young. Jak wondered if he'd ever seen someone bleed before. Sitting up so that he didn't need the support of his arm, he wrapped it around the boy's shoulders and pulled him into a hug. I'll be fine. I promise.

His silent comfort earned him a wordless sniff, and the boy responded to the hug by burying his face in the cleanest part of Jak's chest. His body shook with sobs, though he still didn't make a sound.

He's terrified, Jak realized. The Metal Head must have brought him here just as it had brought Jak. How long had he been here? Had he been alone this whole time? And...

When his own injuries throbbed, he frowned and pulled back, looking the child over more closely. He couldn't see anything obvious besides a few minor scrapes and bruises, but still he raised his eyebrows and mimicked the earlier question.

Are you all right?

The boy scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, then nodded. Laying his ears back against his head, he bared his teeth and curled his fingers into claws before grabbing his thumb with one hand and "carrying" it to the ground they sat on. Then he held up his thumb to show that it was okay, that the monster hadn't clawed or bitten him when he had been captured.

For a moment, Jak felt a strange sense of deja vu. Before he could think too much about what caused it, though, it dawned on him that this boy was speaking like him. Without a sound or a word, he used his body and his actions to illustrate what he wanted to say. Other people knew how to communicate with gestures, of course, but for them, it never seemed natural. That wasn't the way they were used to speaking. This boy, on the other hand, didn't even seem to consider opening his mouth, just let the words tumble from his hands as easily as they did from other people's lips. This, Jak realized, was what everyone else saw when he tried to talk. Seeing it from the other side was a very novel experience.

When the boy was finished, Jak briefly mirrored the claws and the silent growl, then raised his eyebrows again. Do you know where the Metal Head is?

The boy blinked at him, then pointed at the door. It went that way.

Hmm. If it left them here, then it thought they couldn't escape. That meant that, potentially, it could take however long it wanted to return. They might have hours to themselves - or they might only have another few minutes. Best they take advantage of whatever time they had.

First things first. He needed to deal with his injuries. He wouldn't be of any use to anyone if he passed out or bled to death. Moving his right arm as little as possible, he gingerly pulled off the vest and shirt, wincing with pain with every move he made. Angry, bloody wounds stared back at him from the soft muscle just below his shoulder, his ribs, his arm, and his side, showing clearly where the Metal Head's claws had dug into him when it had grabbed him from his fall. There was a fifth wound on his back from the claw on the monster's thumb, right around his shoulder blade, but this one he couldn't get a look at. It didn't feel as serious as the other four, though, which was a lucky thing. It would be difficult to bandage that injury. His arm was in the worst condition, as it hadn't had any protection from the leather vest.

After taking stock of everything, he set to work awkwardly tearing strips of cloth from his shirt with one hand and his feet, sometimes gnawing at it with his teeth to help weaken the part he wanted to rip. The boy sat next to him while he did all this, his hands fidgeting with some kind of amulet that hung from his neck as he stared with wide, worried eyes.

When it came to actually wrapping the bandages around each injury, though, Jak found himself at a bit of a loss. He was able to tie the knots for the bandages on his arm and his shoulder by using his hand and his teeth, but his other two injuries were too far down to use that method. Trying to trap one end of the bandage between his arm and his chest didn't work, either, and only made him hiss from the awkward pressure it placed on his injuries. I can't do this, he thought, closing his eyes against the pain and dizziness. I'm going to have to leave it like it is. That wasn't good. He'd already lost too much blood.

But then another possibility presented itself when his companion hesitantly touched his arm. Jak opened his eyes and looked at the boy, who was now standing and hovering over him anxiously. He looked like he wanted to help, but didn't know what to do. Jak gave him a faint smile. Here. Taking hold of the boy's hand, he guided it to his chest and pressed it against one end of the bandage. Just hold this here while I tie it. He raised his eyebrows. Can you do that?

The boy bit his lip and nodded, seeming to understand, and he gripped the strip of cloth tight between his fingers.

Even with his help, it was still awkward, and the knot was far from perfect, but Jak felt confident that it would at least hold. Together they repeated the process for the claw mark on his side. When they were finished, Jak had to fight the urge lay back down, settling instead for just leaning forward while he caught his breath. If he laid down now, he didn't know if he could force himself to get back up.

He couldn't afford to sit there for long, though, not when he didn't know when the Metal Head would be back. With a grimace, he carefully stood up, then waited while another wave of dizziness passed. Once it had, he reached out to take the little boy's hand.

Come on. Let's see if we can find a way out.

-End Chapter Eighteen-