The big 5-0~! God, I cannot believe I made this 50 chapters. Thanks to everyone who reads and enjoys this! I had fun with this chapter, and there's so much happening, I'm so excited.

The next few days of Spargus were a sort of holding pattern.

It seemed like every Wastelander had a job to do, and they waited around to do it. There was an undercurrent of anxiety that settled over the city like a blanket.

Jak and Daxter spent most of the next days in the infirmary. Ionna showed them how to make the medications, gave them a book of who they went to, and put them in charge.

"Right now, there shouldn't be many injuries," she explained to them as she put on her boots. "We're getting into defense mode, so it's quiet. But if there's an emergency, call me or Damas on the communicator."

"Got it. Good luck." Jak watched her go and then picked up the bottles of medicine. "Ready, Dax?"

"As I'll ever be."

Ionna was right, much to his relief; there weren't many patients in the infirmary. Mostly sicknesses that could be cured with the right decongestant or pain pill. Jak was getting a feel for the fast-paced, never-ending work. It almost felt…constructive, for once, to be doing something so normal.

But the time came quickly.

A sandstorm hit. Spargus shuttered up, as usual: pulling tents over the market square, hunkering down in their houses, letting the storm pass. Including Jak and Daxter.

"I swear, when this is over, I want a nice, peaceful life." Daxter muttered wistfully. He took a drink from the bottle of wine Jak had procured for the occasion. "We've saved the world enough times! Karma says we should be able to relax for the next eighty years or so."

"Don't drink too much," Jak warned. "I'm not scrubbing vomit out of your blankets again."

"Eh, I'll be fine." Daxter sighed and leaned back against Jak's side. "You doin' okay?"

Was he? Jak swallowed. He felt like his head was buzzing with thoughts and feelings, a worry he couldn't quite shake. Out loud, he said, "Why does it feel so much worse this time? We've been through bigger fights."

"It's 'cause you're not the one doin' it," Daxter said knowling. Jak raised an eyebrow. "Let's face facts, buddy. You're a control freak. You've always been the one who does everything. So now that you're taking a backseat, you feel like you can't control it. Makes you nervous."

Jak exhaled. Daxter had always been able to read Jak's mind better than everyone else, even Jak himself sometimes. "I don't want to be like this," he muttered. "I want to rely on people more often, it's just…I've been burned before. I want to trust people again."

"Yeah, well, I want to be filthy rich," Daxter remarked.

"You saying I'll never trust people again?" Jak shot back.

"No." Daxter burped and Jak wrinkled his nose. "I'm sayin' it'll take work. Speaking of which."

He hopped up to his feet and began to pace around. "About the Taste of Wasteland. I'm thinking you'll start as a junior associate. Tess and I are gonna co-own it, and then you can work for us. You'll be in charge of taking the inventory and stocking shelves."

"Gee, thanks." Jak rolled his eyes. "I figured you'd make me work the counter."

"Are you kidding? With your attitude? You couldn't sell water in the Wasteland." Daxter sighed dreamily. "Nah, my Tessie is gonna be the real money-maker. You can be the stock boy."

Jak snorted. They lapsed into silence again. The winds were picking up outside, the occasional gusts making the windchimes outside go crazy. Jak swallowed again.

"...Hey, Dax?"

"Mmm?"

"Can we…do you care if we go talk to Damas for a while?" Jak picked at the sole of his boot, trying to act nonchalant. "I just…want to touch base with him before the storm ends. Just to make sure everything's ready. He might need us to do something else."

A lie, one Daxter saw through right away. However, all his friend said was, "Sure. Whatever ya need, Jak."

"The storm will be over by morning." Damas uncapped the bottle of whiskey and started to pour some into a shot glass. "Do you think you're ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Ionna said. She took the glass gratefully. Damas poured another and handed it to Sig.

"Seem?" he asked. The monk shook her head, so he poured a shot for himself.

"She doesn't drink, Damas," Ionna chastised. "You've known her for over two decades."

"I know she doesn't," Damas replied. "But it's polite to ask." He pulled out his canteen and poured water into the fourth glass. "Here."

The four of them were sitting on the throne room steps, a veritable feast in front of them. Sig had brought some kind of spicy meat stew ("Mama's recipe"), Seem had brought a lentil and vegetable dish, Ionna had brought flatbread with spiced oils, and Damas had brought the whiskey ("It's safer that way," Ionna had said).

Damas held up his glass. "Cheers." They tapped the glasses together. "To an easy fight tomorrow."

They downed the shots in unison, just as the elevator rumbled behind them. Ionna swallowed and frowned. "Damas, did you have a meeting with someone?"

"No." He craned his neck to see who it was. He laughed when he saw orange fur start to appear. "Jak and Daxter."

Jak froze in the elevator. "Um…sorry. We can leave if you're busy…"

"Don't be silly," Ionna told them. "Did you eat already?"

Jak shook his head. He'd been too anxious to eat, though he'd managed to drink that wine. Sig slapped the stair next to him.

"Then come join the fun, cherries." He picked up two bowls and started to scoop stew into them. "Here, try my mama's recipe. It's spicy, though, so watch out."

Jak sat down and Daxter leapt off his shoulder. "Mmm-mmm, that's one hell of a dinner. Sure you don't mind sharing?"

"We have plenty." Damas poured another shot and held it out to Jak, only to have it immediately snatched by Ionna. "Hmm?"

"Don't give them drinks, they're too young." She set the glass aside as Daxter sputtered. "Besides, the both of you already smell like a bar. You're cut off."

Daxter grumbled something under his breath, but the food seemed to soothe some of the indignation. "Ooh, lentils."

Jak inhaled the smell, which brought his appetite shooting straight through any anxiety he had. "Thanks for the food."

Daxter had already shoved a spoonful of lentils into his mouth, but he gave a garbled noise of gratitude. Jak took a bite of the stew, glancing around at them. No one asked what, exactly, the two of them were doing here. Nor did Jak ask why all four of the adults were sitting around in the palace eating.

Instead, Sig asked, "What do you think of the stew? Made with snapper turtle fish."

Daxter sniffed his bowl and sighed dreamily. Damas picked up the shot he'd poured for Jak. "Man, you don't get fresh fish like this in the city. Closest thing is whatever three-eyed mutant you find in the sewers."

"You would eat sewer fish," Ionna commented. "This is the same boy who ate a metal head."

Damas did a spit take, choking on the whiskey. He coughed as Sig slapped his back and wheezed a few breaths. "You. Ate. A metal head?"

"You really surprised by that?" Sig tore off a piece of flatbread and dipped it in the oil. "Hell, I'd be more surprised if that wasn't the case."

"You have a point." Seem stirred her vegetables around the bowl. "Your self-preservation skills are on the low end of the scale."

"Gee, thanks." Jak reached over and dumped some lentils into his stew. "And it was only a few bites."

"He cooked it!" Daxter's voice was muffled with the stew, but everyone understood him. He swallowed his bite. "I would like to remind everyone that he cooked it!"

"...How?" Seem tilted her head curiously. Everyone glanced at her. "How, exactly, did you cook it?"

"That's your question?!" Daxter threw his hands up. "That's it! We're doomed! You don't ask why he ate it, but how he cooked it! What's wrong with you people?!"

"You know," Sig mused, "it's a valid question. Did you put seasoning on it?"

Jak stopped eating, his spoon midway to his mouth. "...No. Why? Would it make a difference?"

"Oh, for sure," Sig told him, at the same time that the other four all voiced their disagreement. "Good seasonings can change a whole dish, cherry. Get some cayenne pepper, garlic, a little bit of paprika…"

"I," Damas announced grimly, "hate this conversation. I would like to politely request that you talk about anything else."

"Man, I haven't had garlic in a long time." Jak tilted his bowl up to his mouth and drank some of the broth. "Dax, remember Samos used to grow herbs and stuff outside his hut?"

"Buddy, I've blocked out everything having to do with Samos."

"He used to make this tea with mint and ginger." Jak finished his bowl and set it aside. "He gave it to the fisherman in our village before he went on long trips."

"It's to help seasickness," Ionna told him. "Ginger helps calm the stomach and mint helps clear your sinuses to keep from getting vertigo."

"He also had this weird citrus-y tea that would knock you right out." Jak pursed his lips, trying to remember. "I can't remember what he used, though."

"Lemon balm." Ionna gestured to Sig. "A lot of my patients take it for insomnia."

Jak picked up a piece of bread and tore it in half, handing one half to Daxter. "I wish they had stuff like that in Haven," he said bitterly. "I can barely get good salt in the city. I'm pretty sure Torn has never tasted a spice in his life."

"Amen to that." Daxter scarfed down the bread and hopped to his feet. "Hey, I got an idea! We can sell spices and herbs and crap like that at Taste of Wasteland! That way all the visiting city folks can finally eat something that's not bland as tap water."

"Doesn't Pavil have a restaurant called Taste of Wasteland?" Sig asked. "Over on the north side, I think. Pretty good place."

"What?!" Daxter shrieked, causing Seem to wince. "Who dares take the name for my perfect souvenir shop?!"

"Pavil," Seem deadpanned. "Obviously."

"Under Wastelander law, you can challenge him for the name," Damas said, reaching over to collect Jak's empty bowl. He stacked it into his own. "Of course, you'll have to wait until we open the arena again."

"Uh, just out of curiosity, is this Pavil guy old? Sickly? Blind?" Daxter fidgeted with his tail. "'Cause, uh, I don't want Jak to get in over his head, ya know."

"Me? It's your idea. I don't even like the name."

"What do you mean? You wouldn't fight one measly Wastelander, after all I've done for you?! I rescued you from prison!"

"I gave you a place to live!"

"You turned me fuzzy!"

"You took my conch shell!"

"I saw it first!"

Somewhere in the midst of their bickering, the adults had started laughing. Jak grinned at the warmth of the sound.

This is how it should always be, he thought. Him and Daxter, hanging out with their friends. Eating dinner and laughing and chatting while the storm raged on inside.

That anxiety in his chest hadn't gone away. But as he made eye contact with Damas, who smiled warmly, Jak felt it loosen. Everything would be okay.

He was sure of it.

By the time Jak and Daxter woke up and met Damas at the turret, Ionna had already left.

"She didn't even say goodbye?!" Daxter looked appalled, but Damas just gave a dry chuckle.

"Ionna will be fine," he assured them. "She has faced worse and come out the other side. Besides," he added, "she has her beacon. She will call for back up if needed."

Jak nodded and looked up at the gun. The morning sun reflected over the ocean, making the whole area bright. "So what's the plan?"

"Jamera has taken the children to the arena to shelter in place." Damas put his hands behind his back and paced around them. "Sig is on the east side of the city, and I will stay near here. Kleiver is going to defend the gate with about half of our warriors. The other half will be covering the ground inside the city. Seem and some of her monks are at the infirmary, ready for any casualties."

"And we're on the gun, right, boss?" Daxter made a gatling gun sounds. "Those bad boys don't stand a chance!"

"You two will be on the turret," Damas confirmed. "If your friend is right, then there will be bigger forces coming down. Your job is to take care of them."

"Great. Thanks." Daxter gave Jak a knowing look. "Of course we've got the worst job here!"

"Feel free to change places," Damas challenged. "Kleiver has been looking for a reason to win his title back on that turret."

"No way!" Daxter puffed out his chest and Jak rolled his eyes. "You think we're gonna give that bozo a chance to—?!"

Damas' comm interrupted him. The king shushed Daxter and pulled it off his belt. "Ionna?"

"Damas." Static silence, then, "I'm at the door, about to put the last power cell in. Good luck."

"You as well." He put the comm away. "I hope this wasn't just a dead end," he said grimly. "If she opens that door and there's no eco sphere, we're in worse shape than I thought."

The air was still and silent, then the comm beeped again. "It's here. They're coming."

Just as Ionna's words faded, a streak of purple came from the sky and slammed into the water with a splash. More, smaller Dark Makers came down after it, landing all over the city.

Damas gestured to the turret and drew his rifle. "You'd better get up there. The fight has just begun."

The eco sphere was a lot bigger than Ionna thought it would be.

It was heftier than a power cell, and it required both hands for her to hold it. She quickly shoved it in her bag and turned around, just in time to hear the Dark Makers crash land.

"They don't waste any time, do they?" She pulled on a thread of light eco and clapped her hands. The world slowed down, giving her time to run.

The Dark Makers were weak to her light eco. It seemed as if she barely had to touch them before they disintegrated. She clapped her hands and time jolted back into place.

The Dark Makers seemed confused by her movements, which was good. While they scrambled to keep track of her, Ionna pulled out her wings, letting the soft tendrils float around her.

Sages used these wings to fly. Warriors used these wings to fight.

She let her wings spread out as far as they could, watching as the Dark Makers shrank back. Perfect.

With that, Ionna ran, her wings trailing behind her, taking out each and every Dark Maker they touched.

About fifteen Dark Makers in, Jak wiped the sweat off his forehead and aimed the gun at another huge creature. Daxter groaned.

"Don't these guys give up?" he snapped. "They're worse than the metal heads!"

Jak glanced behind him. Down below the turret, the citizens of Spargus were still fighting the smaller Dark Makers. Jak growled and turned back to his own enemies.

"These guys aren't stupid." The Dark Maker he hit gave a loud roar and fell into the water. There was another right behind it. "They know if we get the eco sphere, they're done for. I'll bet Erol is sending everything he's got right now."

"Yeah, well, he should come down here and fight us himself!" Daxter flipped off the sky. "Lousy coward knows we'd knock 'im into next week."

Jak took down another Dark Maker, but there were a few more purple streaks that signaled the arrival of more. Daxter let out a string of curse words and Jak leaned back.

"Daxter. Can you handle the gun?"

Daxter glanced down at his friend. He knew that face. That face was the same face Jak had made when he'd taken Daxter to Misty Island; the same face when he'd roughly shoved the Precursor Stone into that huge gun. That was the look Jak had when his plucky little brain had thought up an outrageously stupid, absolutely insane, 100% grade-A going-to-get-somebody-killed plan.

"Of course I can handle the gun!" Daxter shouted, feigning insult. "Go do what you gotta do, buddy!"

Jak took off, leaving his friend to clamber up onto the turret. Daxter had to stretch a bit to aim and shoot, but he could do it. He took aim as a large Dark Maker came crashing into the water.

"Let's dance, ugly!"

They wouldn't let up. Wave after wave, a seemingly endless amount of Dark Makers. The Wastelanders were adept at defending themselves, sure, but there was only so much that could be done. Sheer numbers said they were going to lose the city.

Jak had been on the turret, cursing the fact that Spargus didn't have a shield wall, when it occurred to him.

He could make a shield wall.

He ducked and weaved through the city, avoiding Wastelander shots and Dark Maker's alike. He quite literally leapt over a few men who were taking down a creature, not stopping to see if they succeeded.

Somewhere along the way, he thought he saw Damas, but he didn't stop for the king, either. He could've sworn he heard someone shout his name, but in the roar of battle and single-minded focus, Jak didn't bother seeing if he was right.

He reached the light eco vent, planted his feet on it, and inhaled.

All he had to do was expand his normal shield. Maybe it wasn't easy—maybe he couldn't do it—but he had to try.

He had to try, because Spargus was his home, dammit. He wouldn't let Erol take it away.

He started by bringing the shield up around him. Once he had it up, he closed his eyes and exhaled. Slowly, like blowing air into a balloon, he pushed the eco outwards. The shield grew bigger, and as it touched the Dark Makers around him, it vaporized them, causing them to dissipate into dark eco.

Jak felt a sharp pain shoot up through his chest, but he ignored it. Erol had shown him one thing: now was not the time to hold back anything. He pushed forward, outward, destroying the Dark Makers with every inch. He felt the world spin around him, wringing out every ounce of energy he had.

Yet he continued.

Finally, finally, the shield reached the water. It hit the huge monsters that had landed. They shrieked, flailing against the water, but it was no use. After only a few seconds of exposure, the light eco incinerated them, leaving nothing but whisps of darkness behind.

Everything went still. They were gone, Jak could feel it in his bones, and he exhaled. All the tension left his body, the eco receding. It was over; the city was safe, at least for now. Jak opened his eyes and gave a shaky laugh of relief.

Then he passed out.