A/N: Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, Ottsels, Metal Heads, Lurkers, Eco-infused warriors/ warrioresses and anyone else who exists in my head! Now, this was a leftover chapter from this series, but I never got round to publishing it - not sure why, probably because there wasn't a point in the connected series where I could post it...Anyway...My birthday gift to you guys. Cheers, as always, fo' the support and love and shit. ~Mika

Before "Deny Thy Father..."

"You sure you wanna be alone?" Daxter asked the taller man, concern in his eyes.

"Yes," the man said brokenly, raising his own blues to meet those of his best friend's. "I h-have to do this alone..."

"And then what?"

"And then..." Jak shook his very heavy head. "I...I don't know..." His eyes snapped up, focussing on the ottsels in front. "Shit. Dax, come with me. Please...J-just...be there,"

"Sure thing, buddy." The ottsel hopped onto his well-worn spot on Jak's shoulder. "Then we come straight back here and go find little Jak,"

The warrior frowned. "Y-you mean my daughter."

"Yeah. Course I do. Just she already looks like you, so I've been callin' her that – "

"She does?" Despite his intense grief, Jak's heart lifted a few centimetres.

"Yeah. Green-haired, blue eyed and angry lookin',"

Jak gave a small smile at that comment, a ribbon of pride threading itself through his shattered heart.

"Right...I guess we'd better go then," Daxter said uneasily.

"Yeah," Jak sighed resignedly. "I...guess so."

~x~

Jak stopped the Zoomer by the front gate, his heart sinking when he saw the silent house, wishing beyond wishing that the circumstances were different. Taking in a deep breath, he pushed the gate open and trod the gravel path to the front door, feeling as if time was slowing before him. The door hung on one hinge, splintered from Roah's attack, and he had no problem pushing that open.

His buckling heart, however, stopped him from going any further, knowing what he was going to see.

"C'mon, big guy," the ottsel on his shoulder encouraged. "You can do it,"

The broken man took a deep breath and stepped into his literally and figuratively broken home. He rested his hand against the wall as he walked, not trusting his feet to keep him upright. The grief and anger pulsing through his body as he walked that long, torturous walk up the hall to an opening that led out to the kitchen and living room burned along with the Dark Eco in his veins, silently begging to take over.

"No," he whispered. "I can't let you."

But you wouldn't feel any pain if you let me...

"I said no!" Jak shouted, startling his best friend. "Now back off!"

The Dark Eco retreated, lessening the burning in his heart a touch. When he turned the corner and saw a slender leg, bruised and bloodied, his heart cruelly twisted all over again. Heaviness lifting from his legs, he ran to the body sprawled on the wooden floor, blood-splattered and cold, as cold as his soul was for a long time.

"Keira..." he whispered, scooping her up in his arms, holding her close. "I'm s-sorry, honey. I'm so sorry..." He buried his head into her shoulder and rocked her back and forth, no tears spilling from his eyes. "Let's...let's get you and Damas rested..."

"Damas?" Daxter queried. "Jak...I can't see him anywhere."

The ottsel's tone waned and wavered as he finished that sentence. Slowly, Jak lifted his head and turned it to the spot where just last night, his dead son's lay.

Sure enough, it was no longer there.

"Did she take him too?" he gasped. Damas' Channelling powers had manifested before birth and Jak had spent as much time as he could between missions teaching him to control them. "Did she take him for posthumous experiments? That sick, twisted bitch!" Jak screwed his eyes shut, desperate for emotion to be contained within him. On a fucking child, and on my child too. "How could she..."

Daxter licked his lips. "I don't know, Jak. I...really don't."

Turning his attention back to the soulmate he'd lost, Jak brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face and held her tightly as he stood up, venturing outside to the grassy plain that comprised of their back garden. Surprisingly, there was already a five-six-by-six-foot rectangular hole dug out, and Jak looked at Daxter, who was scraping mud out from beneath his claws.

Thanks, Dax.

The warrior walked over to the hole and knelt beside it, Keira still in his arms. Staring at her for many long moments, he shifted himself and her body so he had a hand free, then gingerly touched her face, stroking it tenderly just as the distant rumble of thunder reached his ears. He was never good with words; never the most eloquent boy or man to have lived. That honour belonged to his son's namesake, if anyone.

"Thank you, Keira..." he whispered, emotion destabilising his voice. "F-for everything. I...I love you. More than I can say." He kissed her forehead before resting his own on it, rocking her back and forth for a few minutes. Finally, he inched forward, swinging one leg out from under him and then the other, leaving them dangling over the edge of the hole. Taking a deep breath, he jumped in, bending his knees as he landed, cradling his dead soulmate in his arms. Slowly, he laid Keira down, closing her eyelids and folding her hands over her stomach. Her wedding and engagement rings glinted in the dull light and he swallowed the hard lump that had formed in his throat as he planted one last kiss on her cold lips. Jumping out of the hole before the urge to lie down next to her took over, he landed on his knees, straightened up and turned to face the hole as Daxter began filling it in, covering her body quickly.

When he was done, Jak rested a hand on the raised mound that had followed, tears finally escaping from his eyes.

"Wherever you are, wait for me," he whispered, running a hand lightly over the grave before turning away, heading back through the blood-soaked house. As he passed the kitchen, he grabbed the box of matches without thinking and struck one, dropping it as it consumed everything it touched. He did not look back as he walked out the house that was being consumed by flames, the black smoke that reflected his heart spiralling into the silver-clouded sky.