When Jak was a kid he, Kiera and Daxter had gone to go play in the forbidden jungle. There had been a massive thunderstorm the night before, as if the heavens themselves had opened up and released a torrential downpour. While out, they came across a long, skinny log laying several inches above a bed of freshly formed mud. Daxter had dared him to cross to the other side, saying that he would kiss a yakkow on the mouth if Jak pulled it off. Wanting to prove himself in front of his friends, Jak stepped forward. He made it nearly halfway, when the log could no longer support his weight and cracked underneath him. Jak fell backwards, landing hard in the mud. His face went red, hearing Daxter and Kiera laughing. Time seemed to hold still in that moment. He was suddenly and acutely aware of the consequences of his actions. He knew that he would get up and, upon trying to, he would just further coat himself in mud, and make a bigger fool of himself. He would struggle to get back to dry land, twisting under all the new weight that clung to his clothes and skin. And then there would come the humiliating ordeal of walking over to the water, head to toe in filth, and attempting to rid the worst of it from himself. Then would come the teasing, knowing that even on his deathbed, he would think back to this moment and cringe, knowing what a fool he had made of himself. As Jak lay there in the mud, seeing his immediate future before him, he wished beyond all hope that he didn't have to face it. That instead of having to get up, and move on, and deal, he could just lay here in the mud forever, never getting cleaner but never getting any dirtier either. Just him in that mud forever and ever and ever.

The real tragedy is not the act itself, but the mess it leaves behind.

Jak lay in the cold alleyway, the sun long since set. He could feel the blood, itchy and caked to his skin, and the fresh bruises thrumming in pain as they slowly deepened in colour. Pushing with his hands flatly on the ground he removed his cheek from the biting cold of the cobblestone. He pushed, until his upper body was upright in a half push up. Next, came the part he was most dreading. Slowly, and ever so carefully, he began to move his right leg underneath himself. The pain he felt was steady and searing. When he had gotten his leg bent at about a 45 degree angle, he felt a sudden stinging pain radiate up his spine. Jak groaned in agony, pausing momentarily from the suddenness of it, before biting back pained tears and continuing the excruciating ordeal. Finally, after moving his right leg underneath him, he worked on the left leg. After more growls and moans of pain, he had both legs underneath him. Now, he was on all fours. The same position he had begun this awful night. The thought brought a wave of nausea to his throat, but he swallowed it down and brought his focus back to the task at hand.

Carefully, crawling over to the wall, Jak used it to pull himself up into a standing position. It was slow going, just like before, and just as painful. But, soon, he was up on his two feet, and carefully shuffling with them. He tried not to grunt too loud and stuck to the shadows, lest someone find him and take advantage of him again in his sorry shape. Even if he did come across someone who meant him no harm, he couldn't stand the thought of someone seeing him now, like this. He walked for over an hour like that, even though on a usual day, it would have only taken him fifteen minutes. He practically dragged his body, shambling down the street. He could hear the voice of dark eco shouting in him, telling him to keep going, to not just lay down and die here like a sewer rat. By some miracle, he finally made it back to the motel. His fingers shook, getting his keys; he said a quick prayer of thanks that they hadn't been lost in the alleyway. If he had gotten all the way here and discovered they were gone, he would have broken down right there at the door.

Jak carefully opened the door and poked his head inside, the tv was on and Daxter was sound asleep on the couch in front of it. Jak sighed in relief, before crossing in front of him and heading straight for the bathroom. He quickly removed his clothes and buried them deep in the waste bin. He then cranked the shower up to a nearly scalding hot, before stepping in. The water stung, especially along all the sensitive cuts and bruises that marred his skin, but he relished in it, feeling as it melted away all the dirt and filth that covered him. He wished he could just remove his skin altogether, and bury it deep in the garbage like his clothes, but this would have to suffice for now. The warm water had taken a lot of the edge off, nearly causing him to fall asleep standing up. Patting himself dry, Jak wrapped two towels around himself before stepping out. Opening the door, he came face to face with Daxter.

"What the hell happened to you?!" Daxter cried.

The noise made Jak jump.

"Oh… I, uh." Jak muttered. He was so tired, so unbelievably exhausted, his brain struggled to come up with a convincing lie.

"I, um, fell." Jak finally said.

"Fell?! More like you lost a fight with a pack of angry yakow!" Daxter exclaimed.

"I fell down some stairs, I'm fine, just going to bed." Jak stated, and made to leave. Daxter held out his arms, trying to block the door frame with his tiny body.

"You're really not going to tell me what happened?" Daxter said.

"Don't worry about it." Jak said curtly. Daxter paused, looking at Jak, Jak bit his lip, reopening the wound he had created when he was… Jak shook his head.

"I just want to go to bed." Jak said. He could hear how desperate his own voice sounded, Daxter noticed it too, and his face quickly deepened in worry and confusion. Jak quickly moved past him, not wanting to have him look at him like that. Could he tell? Could he put the pieces together and realize exactly what had happened to him? Could he read it on his face, in his body language, from his very soul? He didn't want him to know. He didn't want anyone to know. He just wanted to crawl away and hide and never come out.

As Jak made his way into the bedroom, he could feel Daxter's concerned eyes burrowing into his back. It made him feel like throwing up. When Jak's hand landed on the doorknob, Daxter suddenly piped up.

"Was it Miso and Razer?" Daxter asked. The name made Jak's stomach churn unsteadily, and goosebumps prick his flesh. He quickly swallowed his sickness and turned his head toward Daxter, but didn't look at him.

"No, it's alright. I'll be better tomorrow. 'Night, Dax." Jak said.

"...'Night." Daxter murmured. Jak could tell he was unconvinced, but right now, he just needed to go to sleep and forget this entire day.

"Holy precursors, Jak! What happened?" Kiera cried.

"Nothing, I just fell down." Jak murmured feebly.

The sage's daughter looked at him in concern and disbelief. Jak wished she wouldn't. He tried to hide how much pain he was in, each step would send an awful jolt up his spine, and sitting hurt even worse. It was going to be a bitch to have to sit in his car and race, but he would suck it up. At least Dark told him he would, and Light tried to encourage him too. The amount of light eco in his veins had helped speed up the healing process overnight, he had noticed in the mirror the next morning. The worst of it had cleared up. He hoped maybe it was enough that no one else would notice and ask him what happened. Guess not.

Keira put a hand to his cheek to touch an especially dark bruise by his left eye, and Jak flinched, but not from pain, fear. Anger immediately bubbled up inside him, realizing that now his brain associated that soft, gentle touch with what Razer did to him. How Razer could make him believe, even for a split second, that Kiera, of all people, would do something even close to what Razer had done, was something he would never forgive him for.

Keira drew her hand away quickly, obviously mistaking that anger as being directed towards her, and that just made Jak want to cry.

"It's fine Kiera, really, I'm okay." He said softly.

"Are you sure you can race today? I could see if Ashelin or Torn could take your place." Kiera said.

Jak shook his head.

"I'm at the top of the bracket, I don't want our team to miss out on my points and risk being eliminated. I'll be fine."

"Yeah! As long as he has orange lightning with him, then we're a shoo-in to win!" Daxter cried, jumping up on Jak's shoulder. Jak glanced over at Daxter, he wore his usual cocky smile, but he could tell he was anxious too. Jak smiled lightly, thankful that Dax would help him pretend nothing was wrong.

Keira crossed her arms and bit her lip. He wished she'd stop worrying about him, that was his job wasn't it? He'd saved the world several times over, vanquished many foes, killed a plethora of metalheads. She didn't need to worry about him, he was fine. Nothing he couldn't bounce back from, he'd been through worse before.

"Alright," Kiera sighed.

"Leave 'em in the dust, guys."