It is I, your local fandom hermit! I have come out of hiding to gift you this chapter. Happy reading!

For a moment, there was only the sound of the torches crackling, the flames reflected in the water of the throne room. Finally, Damas said stiffly, "I'm not sure what we need to talk about."

Ionna was quiet as she moved, walking over to the steps. She gently sat down, then patted the spot next to her. Damas stared at her for a few seconds, then sighed and sat beside her.

"Do you remember," she asked quietly, "what you said after Mar was born? The first time you held him?"

Damas pursed his lips, but didn't answer. She continued, "You said that you never wanted Mar to face what we had faced. That you wanted him to always be safe from the horrors of the world." She paused, ducking her head to make eye contact with him. "Do you remember what I said back?"

Damas folded his arms. "I don't recall." His body language said something very different.

"Yes, you do." She leaned back on her elbows and sighed. "A ship in harbor is safe, but that's not what ships are built for. I told you that, one day, you would have to teach our son how to survive in the world, because one day he'd have to keep himself safe."

"We're not talking about Mar," he said stubbornly. "We're talking about Jak, and a mission that holds our entire fates—!"

"Of course we're not talking about Mar." Ionna had no qualms about speaking over Damas. "We're not talking about Jak, either. We're talking about you."

She reached out and gently settled her hand over his own. "One of the things that I have always loved about you," she continued, "is that you have compassion. You always have, as long as I've known you, and it's made you a good leader. But your compassion has become fear, and that's not good for anyone."

"It has nothing to do with my fear. We must consider this problem from a tactical standpoint." He didn't move his hand from beneath hers. "Who is the most likely to complete this mission? I'm unconvinced that Jak and Daxter alone can do it."

"...Why?" It could have been a sarcastic remark, but it was a genuine question coming from her. "You have yet to convince me that they can't."

"Jak is, what seventeen? Eighteen?" Damas demanded. "Much too young to be burdened with this sort of task."

"Damas," Ionna said lightly, "you were sixteen when you were crowned. Only a bit older than that when you led troops against metal heads. And, if I recall correctly, you argued fiercely for the right to do so."

He snorted. "I was foolish then."

"You're foolish now. But more importantly, you're now denying Jak and Daxter the opportunity to show their skills. And, don't forget," she added, "Sig is right. Those so-called children you dismiss so easily achieved what you yourself could not: they killed Kor."

Damas grew quiet for a moment. "...It's hard to let go of the past. Of my past, of my failures. I wasn't able to protect Mar, and I don't want…I have to protect Jak, too."

Finally, finally, he'd been able to say it. Ionna smiled and squeezed his hand comfortingly.

"I know you think," he said slowly, "that it's because Jak is so much like Mar. But it's…not that."

She waited patiently while he gathered his thoughts. Finally, he continued, "Jak says he never knew his parents. And as I see how…warped his worldview is, I worry that Mar could become the same way." He frowned into the water. "If our son is left to his own devices, will he become as bitter and broken as Jak is?"

"Bitter? Broken?" Ionna laughed, her voice echoing around the throne room. "I think you're imagining some fears, Damas. Jak is…hardly personable, that's true. But I, for one, would be proud if Mar grew to be like Jak. Someone with a curious mind and a hard-working heart. A loyalty that rivals your own, a protective streak that outshines it." She dipped her head, smiling. "And you also need to consider your own influence, you know. Jak admires you, and you've helped mold him into the strong young man he is."

Damas huffed out a laugh. "...I have no idea how you do that."

"Do what?"

"Make me see the most obvious things." He stood up and put his hands on his hips, his sardonic grin in place and his chin tilted up. "I suppose you're right. Jak and Daxter have accomplished more than enough to prove their abilities. Any other warrior would have earned their respect; I owe it to them to show it."

He held out hand to help Ionna up. As she stood, he continued, "This isn't me admitting that I was wrong, for the record."

"Of course not," she mused, heading for the elevator. "I've never known you to be wrong in my life, oh wise king."

Over the next few weeks, Jak met more Wastelanders than he thought possible. Random citizens showed up at his and Daxter's place near the shoreline, handing over power cells without the slightest sign of annoyance. In fact, the seemed to be rather cheerful about the whole thing, or as cheerful as Wastelanders got.

"Most Wastelanders have a power cell or two stashed around here." Sig's mother had brought them six power cells, arranged carefully in a metal wire basket. "They can come in handy when we need to conserve eco. I use 'em to power my forge sometimes."

"Thanks, Zy'air." He took the basket from her and set it in the corner, where a steadily-growing pile of power cells were. "If you need to keep some in case…"

She gave a short snort of laughter that matched her son's almost perfectly. "Please, cherry," she told him. "The forge can wait. Those Dark Makers, though, are mighty impatient. Better take care of them first."

By the end of the week, Jak had nearly eighty power cells. He and Daxter carefully counted them, a strangely nostalgic task. "Nearly there," Jak confirmed, setting the last one aside. "Looks like we're almost at the end, Dax."

"Great," Daxter whined, "now all we gotta do is deal with the dangerous crap that comes right before the end!"

Jak rolled his eyes as Daxter hopped into his bedbox, wrapping the blankets around him and sighing contentedly. "Ahhh, so warm, so cuddly. If only Tess were here…"

"Then she couldn't fit in the box anyway," Jak grumbled, climbing into the hammock and yanking his own blanket over himself. "Now shut up and go to sleep."

Daxter blew a raspberry at his friend, but nestled deeper into his blankets. Within a few minutes, he was snoring softly, the familiar backdrop that Jak was used to at night.

Still, he couldn't sleep.

He was restless, shifting and tossing from side-to-side, unable to even doze a bit. It had been like this a long time ago, the night before he and Daxter had taken the zoomer over Fire Canyon. Back then, it had been so exciting: flying over open lava, his first time away from Sentinel Beach, onto a new place. It had been kind of frightening, too, to have to face danger head on like that.

Little did he know. Flying over lava was just a regular travel route for him nowadays.

Jak flipped over and tried to put his arm under his head. No luck; sleep just wasn't going to come to him. He sighed and threw the blankets off. It was late, after midnight, closer to the morning than to the night.

He shoved on his boots as quietly as possible, even though Daxter was the heaviest sleeper he'd ever known. He carefully opened the door, hoping the creaking wasn't too loud, and stepped out into the city. It was pleasantly cool outside in the darkness. Jak walked towards the shore, sighing.

He sat down on the rocky edge of an overhang that looked down into the inky black water. Somewhere, deep down there, was the sea monster, probably slumbering like Jak should be. He wondered if the lurker sharks still existed, or if they'd gone extinct over the years.

The thought was a little too morbid for him right now, so he glanced up instead. The stars seemed to stretch on forever. He could see the purple glowing Dark Maker ship hanging overhead, a looming threat on the world.

"Staring at it won't make it disappear, you know."

Jak jerked his head around. "Damas?"

The king was climbing his way up the rocks. He stood next to Jak for a moment, tilting his chin up to look at the Dark Maker ship. "It's funny," he mused. "For something so small, you wouldn't expect it to be as threatening as it is. But I suppose that anything, if it seems far away, would look to be insignificant."

"..." Jak folded his arms. "You couldn't sleep, either, huh?"

"Let's agree that both of us have something on our minds." Damas let a faint smile grace his face. "Come, Jak, walk with me."

They went down towards the bazaar, where closed market stalls stood in the darkness. There wasn't anyone else around this late-early hour. Jak kicked up sand over his boots, while Damas gave him a sideways glance.

"Sig, Seem, and Ionna are convinced that you should go into the catacombs to power up the Precursor's weapon." Damas decided it was easier to just rip the bandaid off instead of easing into it. "I have my reservations, however."

"Why?" Jak asked, stung. "Dax and I have done this kind of stuff a thousand times."

"And you've done it well," Damas replied. "But this is not Haven City. We are Wastelanders, those who have lost their homes and their lives. We have survived thus far by banding together and supporting each other. I wouldn't be very good at my job if I didn't consider other warriors for the job."

He paused, thinking how to phrase his next words. "...But I would be a fool to deny you," he continued. "You and Daxter have done great things, and it would be disrespectful of me to ignore that because of your youth. So."

Damas abruptly stopped and turned to Jak. His eyes drilled into the teenager's, intense and serious. "You tell me, Jak. Why do you think you should be the one to go down into the catacombs? Why does it have to be you?"

Jak opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. Why did he want to go down there? Honestly, he didn't really want to go fight through a half-destroyed city and a hoard of Dark Makers, just so he could screw around with some kind of weapon. Plus, he was never looking forward to deal with all the Precursor crap, as Daxter liked to say.

If Damas was offering…why didn't he just let it go? Why not let Sig or Kleiver or some other batshit crazy Wastelander go take up the role of hero for a while? Jak was getting pretty sick of it himself.

But…

"...Do you remember a while ago, you asked me what the difference was between a soldier and a warrior?" Damas blinked in confusion at Jak's words. The boy plowed ahead. "You said that soldiers fought against enemies, and warriors fought to protect others."

"I remember."

Jak shifted on his feet. "I…have a lot of people to protect," he said haltingly. "This place…this planet, even the people who've hurt me, they all deserve to live without some kind of crazy enemy trying to destroy them. I ha…I want to save them."

"Ah. I see." The king tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Jak, you have been in Spargus now for…just shy of a year, correct? Tell me, in that time, what have you learned?"

They fell silent for a moment while Jak considered the question. Damas expected the young man to rattle off a list of his powers and skills; but to his surprise, Jak didn't say anything of the sort.

"I've learned…that I'm not alone." Jak's eyes flashed with a fierce stubbornness that Damas knew all too well by now. "There are people all around me who've helped me all this time, and I should rely on them, just like they do on me. We survive by working together. So if you don't send me and Daxter down there, then we're still going to fight to save everyone. We'll just fight in a different way."

Damas smiled proudly. "I'm glad to see you've grown, Jak. You are no longer the same angry teenager who we found in the desert, lashing out at those around him."

"...Thanks." Jak grinned back. "So…then, who's going to go down into the catacombs?"

"You are," Damas replied simply. "I would be a fool to not recognize that, with your unique set of powers, you're the most fitting candidate. But being the best man for the job does not mean you're ready. With this conversation, I believe you to be."

Jak's grin widened. "Thanks. For everything. I swear, I'll do the best I can to protect Spargus."

"I know you will, son." Damas clapped Jak on his shoulder affectionately. "And always remember, should you need anything, come to me. Even if it's just to while away a sleepless night."

Jak watched Damas walk away, back to the palace, before turning to head back to his own home. The feeling of unease he'd had while trying to sleep had faded away, leaving a weird exhaustion in its wake. He yawned as he went back inside.

By the time he'd crawled back into the hammock, Jak had no trouble with sleep. He closed his eyes and let the sound of Daxter's snores lull him into the void. His last drowsy thought before he fell asleep was that this is what he wanted when it was all over: to come home and relax, with his friends and family safe around him.

The Freedom HQ building was usually pretty quiet in the mornings. Samos, Onin, and Pecker almost always arrived first, quietly meditating or discussing the vaguely mystical goings-ons of the city. Ashelin was often right behind them, brow furrowed as she scanned through the overnight reports on the computer. Keira, if she had work to do there, was next to arrive, tools in hand.

But Torn never really "arrived." He was simply always there, except for the times when he had to leave for a mission or to take a smoke break. So when everyone arrived to find that Torn was nowhere to be found, they just assumed he was on a mission somewhere.

Incorrectly.

He came into the room, kicking open the door to the main communication room with a loud slam. Tess came in behind him, her face stormy and furious. Keira, sitting on the floor with computer parts around her, jerked her head up, startled. Samos puttered around nervously, unsure how to handle the sudden rage on Torn's face.

"What," he loudly asked, "the fuck is this?!"

He tossed a stack of loose leaf papers onto the desk where Ashelin was working, watching them scatter around her. Her cheeks went pink beneath her tattoos as she recognized the words.

"Where did you get these?" she demanded. "These are supposed to be kept locked in the council meeting room."

"Oh, please." Tess rolled her eyes and folded her arms. "I've been keeping some eyes and ears out ever since Jak was banished. Now stop deflecting."

"I didn't have any control over it." Ashelin looked up at Torn. "The council decided—"

"Oh, fuck the council!" Torn slammed his hand on the desk, rattling the coffee mug next to her. "This isn't about the council! Why didn't you step in?"

"Let's calm down here!" Samos said, alarmed. He hastily stepped up to Torn's side of the desk and patted his arm. Torn jerked away from him with a growl. "Sit down and we'll talk rationally about this."

Keira stood and looked at the papers that Torn had thrown. "What's going on, you guys?" She scanned over them quickly. "Wait…Ashelin, is this true?"

"What's true?" Pecker, ever the gossip-monger, squawked and landed next to her. "What's happening?"

"These papers are notes from a meeting of the Haven City Council." Keira picked up another sheet and read it. "They're going to vote on having Torn stripped of his position!"

"What?" Samos hurried over to read the paper, too. "What possible reason could they give?"

"Dereliction of duty," Torn snarled, still glaring at Ashelin. "Apparently, I'm a failure as a commanding officer."

Ashelin pursed her lips. "You haven't done anything wrong. They just have some questions to ask."

"Yeah? Just like the ones they wanted to ask Jak?" Keira quipped. She shuffled through the papers and added, "They've already set a date to vote on removing him!"

"Does it say anything about imprisonment or banishment?" Samos asked anxiously. "I hate to imagine the possibilities…"

"I'd never allow that." Ashelin exhaled tiredly. "Look, Torn, I'm sorry that you got caught up in all this, but the council is making moves. It's Veger, that creep, and he's—"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute." Keira held up her hand as she continued reading. "'Council voted for testimony of the commander based on accusations of dereliction of duty and reckless decision making in his role. No members objected and no dissenting opinions.' Ashelin, is this true?" She looked at the governor incredulously. "You didn't object to this?"

"I told you," Ashelin snapped, "Veger is pushing the council into this. He's trying to divide and conquer us. Stop letting him."

"Okay, but Veger doesn't control what you do." Keira waved the paper wildly. "Why didn't you object? Why didn't you defend him?"

"Because that's what Veger wants!" Ashelin stood up abruptly, shoving her chair behind her. "He's just looking for a reason to get rid of each and every one of us. I have to keep as much power as possible for as long as possible so I can stop him!"

"Even if you sell your friends down the river to do it," Tess mumbled, disgusted.

"Let's remain calm," Samos said, though there was an edge of panic in his voice. "Cool heads must prevail! Instead of petty infighting, we need to focus on those catacombs. Has anyone managed to get ahold of Jak yet?"

"Petty?" Keira tossed the papers she was holding back down. "Daddy, they're talking about firing Torn! He controls the whole KG! If he isn't running it, Veger will try to take over, and then who knows what will happen!"

"I'll have command of the KG if that happens," Ashelin assured her. "It defaults to me."

"I agree with the old man," Pecker suddenly butt in. "These dark creatures threatening the world are much, much more important than who bosses around some stupid soldiers!"

"Shut the hell up!" Torn, who'd been glaring steadily at Ashelin for the entire conversation, finally spoke up. He inhaled sharply and then leaned forward. "Ash. Why…why didn't you even warn me about this? If Tess hadn't told me, I'd have been blindsided."

Ashelin's face flushed. "It just happened last night," she muttered. "I didn't have time to—"

"Bullshit!" Torn seemed to have finally reached his limit. "You have my comm, Ashelin, you know where to find me! Hell, you've been to my apartment before! There's no excuse."

"Fine!" she yelled back. "You want to know why I didn't say anything to you? Because I knew this was what would happen! You'd take it personally and get everyone involved and we'd all end up fighting! It's pointless, it doesn't help anything. And I can't do anything about it, either! Not without getting into a shitton of trouble myself."

Torn shook his head and gave a bitter bark of laughter. "That's what this is really about, isn't it? You want to keep your nose clean, so you won't stand up to the council."

"Torn," Samos began, almost desperate, "I'm sure Ashelin is doing her best. In fact, she has a point. We need her to remain in power to keep Veger at bay! Surely you can understand that."

"...Yeah," he replied grimly. "I understand it. And I'll make it easier on her." He reached carefully up to the pin that was settled on his chest. He slipped it off and set it down in between himself and Ashelin. "I hereby resign as commander of the Freedom League. That leaves you in charge, Governor Praxis."

The room went silent and Torn spun around. "Wait," Ashelin said weakly, "where are you going?"

"The same place I went the last time this shit happened." Torn pressed the button and the elevator door opened. "Back to that dead end alley in the slums."

You know, I'd be more inclined to like Ashelin if she didn't seem to be the kind of person who would sell out her friends for one(1) corn chip.