Here I am! Hello again!

I replayed Jak 3 recently, and I felt like there were a lot of scenes missing. I really wished they'd talked more about how Jak decided to go back to Haven, when he explicitly said he didn't want to. I feel like that was a choice he struggled with.

In the morning sun, the Spargus palace was bathed in beautiful golden light that sparkled on the streaming water. The torches weren't lit this morning; normally, Damas would light them as his first duty of the day.

This morning was different. Today, Damas was standing behind the throne, staring out the huge window that overlooked the desert. He fiddled with the flint his hand, absent-mindedly turning the stone in his fingers.

He was tired. His night had been plagued by dreams—nightmares, really—that kept him awake at night. He rubbed his temples and sighed.

Dreams of Mar. His toddler son, splashing his feet in the water, giggling as he played. Shaking the sand from his spiky blond hair after a short trip into the desert. Chasing the kangarats and crocadogs around the city in efforts to catch a pet.

But those dreams, such bittersweet memories, had devolved into night terrors. Mar had disappeared, and no matter how much Damas screamed for his son, there was nothing but swirling darkness.

He had almost been glad when the dawn came, despite the fact that his head hurt from lack of sleep.

The elevator rumbled to life behind Damas and he turned around. Quickly shoving all thoughts of his son aside, he went to one of the dead torches and struck the flint. It sparked and lit up, burning with a ferocity that reminded him to focus on the present.

By the time Jak and Daxter stepped off the elevator, Damas was lighting the last torch. He glanced over at the pair.

Jak looked troubled, or at least, distracted. More surprising than that, Daxter was looking a little thoughtful, too. Damas smiled as he greeted them with a familiar Wastelander salute.

"Damas." Jak stepped towards him, while Daxter leapt off his shoulder into the pool. "Got any missions for me?"

Damas chuckled. "I see you tire of being cared for. Did Ionna give you any restrictions?"

Jak's jaw twitched. "Nope."

Daxter threw himself out of the water with a splash. "She said not to overexert yourself!" he called out. His tone was reminiscent of the child who used to tattle on Jak for poking wumpbee nests. "Don't listen to him, Your Highness of the Barren Wasteland. He's supposed to take it easy."

Jak glared at him. "I'm fine," he snarled. "I can do whatever you need me to."

"Good, because I have something that I think only you can do." He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Tell me, Jak , do you still have that handy board you were telling me about?"

Jak blinked as Daxter shook the water out of his fur and climbed back onto his shoulder. "My JetBoard? Yeah, I have it."

Damas smiled. "Excellent. Come with me."

Damas led them out into Spargus, where he gestured above them, at the buildings that towered above them.

The water pipes, he explained, wound their way up and around the walls of the stone buildings. Normally, minor repairs could be done with ladders and strong climbers, but there were always a few places that were hard to reach.

Until now, Damas told him. Jak, with his JetBoard, could surely find a way to reach some of the higher spots that needed repairing.

"They only need spot welded," he said to the delighted boys. "Just as a preventative measure. The last thing we need to worry about is losing water pressure. Do you think you can handle it?"

"You bet." Jak already had his JetBoard in his hand. "This is what I was born for."

Damas smiled as he and Daxter hopped onto the JetBoard. "Then get to it, warrior."

When the sun set over Spargus, it really was a pretty sight. Much better than Haven City, both Jak and Daxter agreed. But not as pretty as in Sandover.

It had taken all day, but Jak had grinded his way around the city of Spargus, balancing and leaping on pipes before stopping to fix the worn spots. Daxter had been the real worker, squeezing into small holes and gaps between buildings.

They had stopped at the very top of the arena, sitting on the roof above Spargus, looking out over the ocean. Sitting there, eating their way through some dried fruit, Jak's communicator beeped again.

"Jak, it's Ashelin. I know you can hear me. Pick up, it's important."

"This is the third time in an hour," Daxter observed. "She seems pretty desperate to get ahold of you."

"I guess." Jak tossed a raisin up and caught it in his mouth. Chewing, he mumbled, "I'm busy, though. She can wait."

"Ha!" Daxter snatched a peach slice up. "If you ask me, she can wait forever. If she needed you so bad, she shouldn't have banished you!"

"She let me back in," Jak said, though there was a bitterness coloring his voice. "She overrode the council after we came through the catacombs."

"Yeah, and that's even worse!" Daxter griped. "She could've done that months ago, when you first got thrown out here. Instead, she waits until you almost die of dehydration—!"

"That's enough, Dax." Jak's voice was soft, but firm. "She did her best."

"Yeah, well, her best wasn't very good…" Daxter viciously bit into the peach. "Anyway, I think you should leave her hanging for a while. Let her twist in the wind for a bit."

Jak was silent, thinking. As much as the idea appealed to him—after all, Ashelin had thrown him out to die—he knew he'd eventually have to go back to Haven to help. As if to remind him, the communicator beeped again.

"Jak, listen. I…Haven really…we could really use your help. I don't know if you're hanging out in the desert with Damas, but…remember that Haven is still your home."

At this, Daxter glared at the communicator. "Then why'd they throw us out?" he snapped.

Jak shushed him, but as he stowed the communicator away, he couldn't help agreeing. Staring back out at the desert sunset, he sighed and took another bite of fruit. "Pretty, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Daxter agreed, leaning back on his hands. "Nothing like this in Haven."

Jak ignored Ashelin's messages for the rest of the night; eventually, she gave up.

"Fine, Jak. I get it. You're not at my beck and call. Just…remember that Haven needs you. Your friends need you. I need you."

Daxter rolled his eyes at that message, but Jak just shut the communicator off and went to sleep. He didn't want to worry about Haven City at the moment. He tried to focus on the sounds of Spargus: hollow wind and grains of sand slicing against the stone.

The weird dreams had decided to cool their jets, mercifully. He didn't dream of anything that night, curled up in one of the bunks in the arena. It was nothing but the peaceful bliss of unconsciousness until he woke up.

The boys met Ionna at the entrance of Spargus the next morning, just before dawn. The city was practically empty at this point, with only a few sleepy-eyed merchants setting up their tarps. The only sounds he could hear was the ocean crashing on the rocks and the wind gently blowing through the sand. When they reached the garage, Kleiver was nowhere to be found, but Ionna was waiting near the Dune Hopper.

"Are you ready?" When Jak replied affirmative, she nodded. "Good. We'll be there for a few hours, so fill your canteen before we leave. I've brought some food for us as well."

"Are we going to the Monk Temple?" Jak went to the spigot to do as she said.

Ionna shook her head. "Too far away, and not enough space to make mistakes. There are some caves off near the lake that have a light eco vent. We'll go there."

Ionna pulled herself into the driver's seat and motioned for Jak to climb into the passenger's side. He did so, making sure Daxter was secure on his shoulder. They both pulled their scarves over their mouths and set off into the desert.

The caves Ionna drove them too were just outside the Marauder compound. There were worn stone carvings around them: symbols for eco, the Seal of Mar, Precursor murals. Jak had seen them in his travels, but never stopped to look at them closely.

They got out of the Dune Hopper and Ionna led the two boys into the caves. It was dimly lit with the same kind of torch lights that were in the monk temple. There were a few jars of dried fruit and cisterns around, placed against the back wall to keep them from the sands outside. In the middle of the cave, there was also an open eco vent, letting out a plume of white gas.

Jak glanced around as he set his bag down. "What is this place?"

"The tunnels down that way used to lead to the monk temple," Ionna explained, gesturing. "Unfortunately, it collapsed a long time ago, but the cave still has an eco pipe running through it. Right now, it's just used as a rest stop for the Wastelanders."

Ionna was unstrapping her rifle, so Jak followed suit with the morph gun. Daxter hopped off Jak's shoulder and started stretching out on a rock.

"Now," Ionna said briskly, "replenish your supply of eco and let's begin."

Ionna walked through the eco vent, allowing the light eco to swirl into her body; Jak did the same, feeling the familiar warmth created by the eco.

"Very good. Now, channeling eco requires precision control over your body." Ionna bent down and started unlacing her boots. "Go on, get barefoot. It'll help with the channeling."

Jak hesitated. He'd learned very early into his stay in Spargus that running around in the desert sand led to blistered and sore feet.

"Ha!" Damas had laughed as Jak sat in the throne room, rubbing his red feet and grimacing. "Usually, this lesson is learned in childhood. Why did you even take your shoes off in the first place?"

Jak had just shrugged, too embarrassed to admit that he had just been curious about feeling the sand between his toes. And though he learned his lesson about the course, scorching sand, he still, every once in a while, had an urge to strip off his boots and feel it again.

"Jak. Shoes off."

Jak snapped back to reality. Ionna was watching him expectantly. Slowly, he reached down and unbuckled his boots. Daxter began to whistle a swanky tune in time to his movements and Jak glared at him. Ionna looked mildly amused.

He set the boots aside, next to Ionna's own tan ones. The stone ground was, surprisingly, cool to the touch, shaded from the sun. On Ionna's direction, Jak stood across and facing her.

"Take a deep breath." In tandem, they inhaled. "Good. Relax your muscles and close your eyes." Jak did as she said. She led him through a variety of exercises: touching his toes, stretching his arms above his head, twisting his neck around. Finally, she said, "Alright. Loose enough, I suppose."

"Loose enough for what?" Jak asked.

"Center yourself on the light eco, just as if you were channeling it. But instead of trying to control where it goes, just…let it flow."

Jak did as she said. He found the pool of eco inside himself and pulled it to the surface. The light shined around him. Instead of doing something with it, he instead just let it…exist inside him. He exhaled slowly before Ionna said, "Good. Let it go."

Light eco dissipated around him, leaving him with the familiar light-headedness that came on after he switched between his forms. Ionna nodded, satisfied.

"Your channeling abilities are astounding. Tell me, Jak, did you ever receive formal training from any of the monks?"

"No." He stretched his arms above his head. "Well, not really. The green sage, Samos, was the one who taught me how to channel, but I mostly learned the little things on my own." He shrugged. "Then, when I started channeling dark eco, one of those weird Precursor oracles showed me all the moves I know."

Ionna's eyes widened. "The Precursors spoke?" she asked harshly. Jak stiffened at her tone. "One of the idols actually spoke to you?"

"Well…yeah. They've always done it." Her jaw dropped and Jak shifted uncomfortably. "Ever since I was a kid. That's how I got my light powers." She was staring at him in a stunned silence, the first time he'd seen her speechless. "What's the matter?"

Ionna took a moment to compose herself. "The Precursor idols," she explained, "are said to only speak to the Precursor monks. There's only one person who wasn't a monk that the idols spoke to, ever."

"Really? Who?"

"Mar." Ionna folded her hands together. "The fact that the idols spoke to you only cements my theory. You are the one who is destined to save us."

"No pressure," Daxter said, grinning. Jak frowned, annoyed.

"Look," he said, "I don't buy into all that crap. Maybe a long time ago, I might've believed it, but…" He shrugged. "I'm not a hero. Not anymore."

"…" Ionna watched him for a moment, then sighed. "Child. You seem to think that heroism is something one is born with, rather than something that is learned."

"Yeah? Well, the Precursors disagree with you there. I've been told I'm a great hero since…well, for a long time," he grumbled.

Ionna closed her eyes and sighed. "The Precursors can be wrong."

It was an odd statement, Jak thought. It rang hollow compared to everything he'd grown up hearing. Samos had extolled the powers of the great Precursors, while Damas and Sig behaved as if they were almighty gods. He'd never heard anyone speak to them with disrespect.

Well, with one exception.

"Ha! Ain't that the truth!" Daxter flipped off the rock he was on and padded over to Jak. "You know, I don't think the Precursors are all they're cracked up to be."

"They are what they are," Ionna said evenly. "Remember, above all else, the Precursors' greatest gift to mankind was free will. You chose to behave like a hero, Jak, and you can choose to ignore everything the Precursors say."

Jak shifted on his feet, uncomfortable. "Look, can we keep going? Not that this isn't really interesting, but…I don't really want to talk about being a hero or…whatever else."

Ionna nodded. "Of course, that's why we're here. Now, face the eco vent."

Jak did as he was told. Ionna reached out and spun her hand in a circle. The eco obeyed, swirling into a shining white vortex, then solidifying into a sparkling white crystal. She picked out of the air and handed it to Jak.

"Wow," he whispered, marveling at the crystal in his hand.

"That's a much more advanced technique," Ionna explained. "We'll get there, but you need to learn the basics first."

"Right." Jak nodded. "So, what first?"

Ionna reached out and spun her hand again. The eco swirled into a vortex, then Ionna absorbed it. "You try," she said. "Remember, let the eco flow. You must not force it."

Jak steadied his stance and exhaled. "Okay. Here goes." He reached his hand out and concentrated.

Meanwhile, Ionna watched and listened.

By the time an hour had passed, Jak was exhausted. Channeling eco, as it turned out, was a lot easier than controlling it. He sat down, wiping his forehead off.

Ionna sat beside him. "Good job," she complimented. "You're getting the hang of it."

"I don't feel like I did much at all," Jak complained. Indeed, in the hour that had gone by, he had only managed to get the eco to follow his commands once. Most of the time, the eco just zoomed right towards him automatically. It wasn't until the last try that he had managed to make the eco spin in a weak little tornado. "I usually don't have to work that hard."

"Don't be discouraged. It takes the acolytes many years to master the unique nature of eco." She smiled gently at him. "You're doing very well, Jak."
"...Am I?" he asked. He took a drink from his canteen, then passed it to Daxter. "Everyone is saying that I'm some great hero and I'm supposed to do these awesome things. But…I can't even get the stupid eco to do what I want."

"You must have patience, child," she soothed. "It takes years for babies to learn to walk and talk; how can you be expected to learn this in just a day?" She shrugged. "Even if you decide to be a hero, you can't do the impossible."

"…You're really big on this whole 'deciding' to be a hero thing," Daxter said. He was pulling out all the dried cherries from the food they had brought. "How come?"

Ionna paused for a moment, thinking. "I suppose," she said slowly, "it's because I was never given the same opportunity. I've been marked as the light eco sage since I was a toddler. My destiny was chosen for me. It wasn't until I made the choice, until I decided not to become a sage, that I fully appreciated the power of autonomy." She gave Jak a meaningful look. "I understand how hard it is to forced into a role you never chose."

With that, Ionna stood up and started for the Dune Hopper. "It's nearly noon. We'd best get going."

As Jak went to bed that night, he hesitated. The communicator from Haven had been turned off since the previous night. He wasn't sure if he wanted to turn it back on.

"Dax?" The ottsel's ears perked up. He was lying on the pillow, eyes closed. "Do you think I should go back go Haven?"

"I dunno," Daxter groaned. "Geez, Jak, if the Precursors don't know, how should I?"

Jak sighed, then set the communicator aside, still off. As he curled up into bed, he sighed and tried not to think about his previous home, being torn apart by metal heads and rogue KG bots.

Choice were great and all, he thought as he drifted to sleep. But you had to be ready to face the consequences of those actions.