"Papa, Papa! Hide and seek, Papa!"

"Very well, little one, I will play. Why don't you hide, and I will seek?"

"Okay, Papa! I hide, you seek!"

Damas jerked awake, his chest tight and aching. He couldn't breathe, all of those memories coming back to him at once. Gasping for air, he stumbled out of his cot and headed for the door.

A tight ball of pain in his chest, settled in the notch of his clavicle. He leaned against the stone wall, trying to catch his breath. He found his pulse and began to count the beats, seeking a touchstone to bring him back to the world he was in.

Count ten beats. Breathe. Count five beats. Breathe.

His pulse was slowing and his breathing returning to normal. Ionna's tricks had always worked for the nightmares. People needed something steady, she had always told him, something to rely on.

Once he was back to himself, Damas sighed and straightened. It was early morning, too early for a man to be awake without a reason. Even so, there was no chance of him getting back to sleep. His mind was already racing with dreams of Mar. His dearest son, playing the cruelest game of hide and seek with him.

Damas headed to the throne room, his chest still aching with a dull reminder of his loss. He stopped in the hallway, however, right outside a closed door emblazoned with Precursor writing. He gently brushed his hand over the engraved word before pushing the door open.

The room was almost pitch black, so Damas used a flint to light the torch on the wall. As the shadows flickered, his eyes scanned the room.

A child's cot, with the blankets folded at the foot of the bed and a fluffy pillow at the head. A shelf of books on the wall, with children's stories of heroes and adventures. Old favorites, Damas thought, running his finger over the spines. His son hadn't been able to read yet, but he'd loved listening to the stories over and over again.

There was a well-worn stuffed toy on the bed, stitched and patched in spots. Damas picked it up and sat on the edge of the bed. It was a crocadog, handmade with soft leather and fur. He could remember tiny arms, tight around the toy at night, cuddling it to soothe himself to sleep.

Damas set the stuffed animal back down and sighed heavily. Beneath his feet was a rug woven from strips of cotton, the bright colors of eco intertwined through it. It had been a gift from the monks when his son was born, blessed with the essence of the Precursors. Mar had loved to play on it, building blocks and drawing pictures.

Abset-mindedly, Damas' gaze shifted to the spot on the floor next to it. Stained into the stone floor, dark and faded, was a red stain. Blood.

Damas' blood, to be exact.

Damas abruptly stood up. He didn't want to be in the room anymore, didn't want to wallow in his self-pity and loss. The pain in his chest was gone now, so he quickly made his way back into the hallway. He shut the door behind him and headed for the throne room, leaving behind the calm darkness of his son's life.

He had a city to lead.


"Erol is behind it?"

Torn, Ashelin, and Samos all seemed shell-shocked at this revelation. Keira gave a little gasp and clapped her hands together. "Are you sure?"

Jak had just returned from the War Factory. Erol had certainly given him a run for his money; he could already tell that one of his ribs was broken, and he was pretty sure he'd done something to screw up his shoulder. He'd gone back into the Naughty Ottsel, where everyone was waiting.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I thought he was just working with the metal heads, but I guess he'd also taken over the KG bots." Jak winced as he sat down at the bar. Tess quickly poured him a drink and squeezed Daxter into a hug. "Well, not anymore. We shut it down. Erol got away, though."

"How on earth did he even survive that dark eco explosion?" Ashelin asked incredulously. "That amount of dark eco should have killed him."

"You'd be surprised," Jak said flatly.

This proclamation was met by silence, then Ashelin said, "Jak...I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way."

"It's fine," he said curtly. "I'm just saying...Dax and I have both been through the dark eco grinder and come out the other side. The stuff isn't as dangerous as you've been led to believe."

"It's insanely dangerous," Samos argued. "Do not forget Gol and Maia, Jak! All their turmoil and evil deeds!"

"Uh, excuse me, green stuff!" Daxter snapped from Tess's arms. "We understand dark eco! We live it!"

"But dark eco can bring madness if not carefully tempered!" Samos rubbed his temples. "Look at what it has done to Erol. No doubt his exposure to the eco caused his insanity."

"No, he was like that before," Torn replied. "Either way, that means we need to figure out how to stop him."

"I suppose." Samos nodded solemnly. "I just hope that Erol isn't able to awaken that ship before it arrives at our planet."

"Then we need to get down into the catacombs." Jak spun around on his bar stool. "That's the key to stopping Erol."

Samos sighed. "Yes, but Onin says there are still artifacts to be found. Without those, the weapon in the planet's core won't work."

"What are these artifacts anyway?" Ashelin asked, a hand on her hip. "Maybe there are some in Haven, in the museums or the monk temple."

Privately, Jak wondered if she was trying to keep him here. To make him stay longer and grow attached again. As if he would never leave if he stayed now.

Well, that ship had sailed. With a place like Spargus around, Jak had less than no desire to stay for an extended period in Haven City. He took a drink, enjoying the burn of alcohol in his throat. "I know someone who might know where they are."

"You talkin' about Nurse Rached?" Daxter reluctantly removed himself from Tess' grip and hopped onto the bar. "She and Face Paint probably know where some of them are hidden."

"Exactly." Jak drained the last of his drink. "If anyone knows, they do."

"You're leaving again?" Keira asked. Jak hesitated, then nodded. "Jak…"

"Listen, Jak," Ashelin interjected. "I know you're mad. And...you should be. We didn't defend you like you always defend us."

"And we're sorry for that," Samos added. "You can't imagine the regret we feel."

"But we think you're letting your anger cloud your judgement." Ashelin fiddled with her gun holster, clearly uncomfortable with bringing it up. "We screwed up, yeah, but we're still your friends."

"Some friends!" Daxter hooted, but Jak shook his head to quiet him.

"You're right to be pissed off," Torn told him. "But if I were in your shoes, I'd hope I could put that shit aside for the good of the world."

Could he, though? Hadn't he already done that, twice? He'd given up his life in Sandover, let the Baron stretch his sanity to the breaking point, let them all use him until there was nothing left. Could he really put his anger aside?

Daxter didn't speak, which Jak could tell was absolutely killing him. No doubt the ottsel had a thousand foul words for everyone in the room. But he was waiting for Jak to speak, waiting for the words in his head to form on his lips.

No one else was, apparently.

"You care about us, Jak, we know you do," Keira said quietly. "The Jak I know would never abandon his friends."

The Jak she knew? Did that Jak even exist anymore? Jak opened up his mouth to try to verbalize his thoughts, but closed it quickly, frustrated.

They wouldn't understand.

"So we're asking you," Ashelin pleaded. "Please. Stay in Haven."

Samos stepped forward as well. "We're counting on you, Jak. I know you'll do the right thing."

Jak clenched his fists at his sides. The right thing? His anger bubbled below the surface, and he felt that familiar spark of darkness in his chest. He growled in his throat, feeling some of the darkness spark behind his eyes. Samos took a step back, eyes wide with panic.

"That's enough."

Jak felt his darkness recede with a hand on his shoulder. He turned around, surprised to see Tess, of all people. She'd stepped out from behind the bar and was standing beside him. There was a strange, cold fury that seemed to emanate from her, something he'd only felt when she'd threatened him before.

"I've stayed out of this so far," she said, her mouth pursing into a thin line. "But I just want to say something."

She folded her arms, giving them a glare. "You guys are putting a lot on our boys' shoulders. Standing there, piling guilt on them. You all should be embarrassed at how you're treating them."

Both Keira and Samos looked down at their shoes, clearly feeling Tess' scolding. Ashelin, however, said, "We're just trying to remind him of where he belongs."

"Oh, really?" Tess rolled her eyes dramatically. "Not to be rude, but I think he belongs wherever he wants. And I doubt he wants to be cornered in a bar and ganged up on."

Ashelin's face flushed red, but she didn't get a chance to retort. Daxter's silence had finally reached his limit. "Yeah, you tell 'em, babe! I'm fallin' in love all over again!"

"Look," Jak finally said. "It doesn't matter what I feel. Torn is right, I have to worry about whatever is trying to destroy the world. And that means I have to go back into the Wasteland and find out how to save it." He clenched his fists. "I just haven't decided what I'm going to do after that."

"Jak…" Keira's frown turned into a small smile. "You're right. I trust you, okay? Just...make sure you remember that we care about you."

"Right. Don't forget…" Ashelin looked away from him. "We're still here, Jak."

Tess grabbed her jacket off the bar. "C'mon, boys, if you hurry, you can catch the last transit out of here tonight."

Jak hesitated, his eyes scanning over them all. "...I'll be back," he said finally. "Don't worry about me. You know I always get myself out of trouble."

"And into it!" Daxter leapt onto Jak's shoulder as he stood up. "As always! C'mon, Jak, we got some stuff to dig up."


Spargus' council met once a month to discuss issues concerning the city. There were only eight, plus Damas, in the council. In recent years, it had only been six: Sig was away in Haven City, and anything Ionna had to say was communicated through Seem.

Except tonight, Sig was here. Ionna, as usual, was not.

Damas, sitting on his throne, cleared his throat. "As we are all present, I'd like to begin this meeting. Sig?"

"Sure. Circle up, cherries, we got a meeting to attend!"

The council was a fairly straightforward bunch; Damas had chosen them carefully. His eyes swept over each one as they assembled into a circle around the throne room.

Sig, of course, was the second-in-command and generally in charge of defending the city. Seem, the leader of the monks, a valuable advisor in any capacity. Kleiver, in charge of vehicles and Wasteland missions. Rider, the old man in charge of agriculture and whatever farming they managed in the desert. Jess, the tough matriarch who ran the armory. Malik, an expert on infrastructure and engineering. Jamera, a young woman tasked with caring for and educating Spargus' children.

There was also Ionna, still a member, though she hadn't attended a council meeting in years. She'd been in charge of the medical treatment in the city since its beginnings. Back when the first patient had been Damas himself.

"We all ready? Good." Sig nodded at Damas. "Wanna start us off?"

"Very well." Damas brusquely continued, not wanting to get side-tracked. He had a headache and his thoughts were still stuck on his nightmares of Mar. "Routine business first. Anything for the good of the order?"

"I'd like to request another building to be used for the school." Jamera might be young, but she wasn't afraid to voice her needs. "There's not enough space where we're at now."

"There's an empty building in the south end of the city," Jess suggested. "I store some parts for the turret in there, but I can move 'em."

"Hmm." Damas rubbed his chin. He remembered the dilapidated schools of Haven, even during his own reign. With a war going on, the city hadn't had the funds to fix leaky roofs and buy books. Spargus, at least, could spare an empty space. "I don't see any issue with it. Seconded."

"Thirded," Jess said.

"Three out of nine," Sig stated. "The motion passes then. Jamera, get your stuff packed and we'll find some folks to help you move."

"Other business?" Damas questioned.

"Is it possible to upgrade the communications system?" Sig asked. "I've been gettin' some static when I go too far out into the wastes."

"'tch, I'll second that one." Kleiver folded his massive arms and nodded. "We've lost a few fellows out there because their beacons weren't workin' right."

"Thirded," Rider rasped out. "Don't want to lose any o' my gents out there."

"The motion passes." Damas rubbed his temples, the headache still lingering. "Anything else?"

"Yes." Seem stepped forward. "I have been observing the Day Star. I'm now aware of who is controlling it, and what their goal is."

"Let me guess," Sig said wryly. "We're not gonna like it."

Seem shook her head. "He wishes to destroy the planet, just as I thought."

"What sort of attack would we face?" Damas asked. "I'd like to be prepared."

"I do not know yet. However, there is evidence that the Precursors have a defense system for our planet. Supposedly, the way in is to go through the catacombs in Haven City." Seem furrowed her brow. "Ionna and I are working together to find this weapon. I only pray it isn't too late."

Damas was quiet as he thought. Finally, he said, "While concerning, I trust you two to work together. If you need anything—more warriors, vehicles, weapons—let me know. In the meantime...I'm going to suspend the arena battles."

That proclamation got them whispering. It was Sig who loudly said, "What?!"

"The arena has been used to determine the usefulness of warriors. However, I feel that we will need all the help we can get. Should anyone approach Spargus and wish to join our ranks, allow them to do so. Now is not the time to turn away assistance."

Malik nodded. "A wise decision. Seconded."

A formality, really. Damas was the king, and his word was law. No one needed to second his motion, as it wasn't a motion at all. Simply a statement of what would be. However, he was pleased when he heard
Jess say, "Thirded. We need to save the ammo, anyway."

"Motion passes. We'll suspend the arena battles until this is all sorted, let the folks who want in fight for us." Sig folded his arms. "Anything else?"

Silence reigned, so Damas nodded. "Meeting adjourned."

As the circle broke apart, he watched them all leave. He never really liked council meetings much, as necessary as they were. And today was compounded by the terrible morning he woke up to.

"Hey, Damas? You alright?"

Damas blinked and turned to Sig. "...Fine. Sleep is just...hard to come by these days."

Sig's eyes scanned over him, worried. "Anything I can do?"

"No, Sig," Damas assured him, clapping him on the back. "You're doing everything you can."

"I can get something from Ionna to help you sleep." Damas frowned at the suggestion and Sig gave a deep chuckle. "Right, I should have known. Well, if you change your mind, just let me know."

Damas watched Sig leave before tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He sighed and let himself fall into sleep, not even caring that he was still sitting on the throne.


The dreams started the day after Jak was found in the desert. They'd found him, along with his strange menagerie of talking animals, in the desert and brought them back to Spargus. The monks surrounded Jak, cooling his body with water and cleaning his dirt-crusted skin. One of them approached Damas, a thin knife in hand.

"Your Highness. His hair is long and matted. It would be easier to cool him down if we cut it…"

Damas nodded. "Do it."

He glanced over their shoulders as they cut the boy's hair. He was in and out of consciousness, his eyes opening and then closing again. Damas gasped when the boy opened his eyes briefly.

For all the eco in the world, Damas was looking at Mar again.

Yellow-green hair, bright blue eyes, a round nose. He looked so much like his son that Damas almost reached out for him. He thought better of it, turning away to remind himself of the truth. He grabbed one of the monks.

"Is he going to survive?" he asked.

She shrugged, callus as only a Wastelander could be. "He's not out of the woods yet. He's still severely dehydrated."

"...Call Ionna." The monk looked surprised. "Please. I'd like to take all measures we can to keep this one alive."

The monk bowed her head. "Yes, Your Highness."

Ionna came almost immediately; she always did. It was rare for Damas to call her to the palace. He only ever did it when it was a severe case.

As she walked through the pools of water, she gave Damas a nod. "Don't tell me. One of your warriors was injured in that absurd arena."

His lips quirked up. "Not quite. A foundling."

She sighed wearily and glanced down. He thought he saw her face twitch in recognition, but she didn't say anything. She simply sat down beside the boy and began to examine him. Finally, she said, "He'll be fine. His core temperature is going down. Keep giving him water in small doses so that he doesn't get sick."

She said nothing else, but there was no need. If she said the boy would survive, Damas trusted her judgement. She moved past Damas and went down the elevator, probably wondering why he had called her just for a case of dehydration. Or, perhaps she knew why he'd called her.

He stared at the teenager's face, seeing even more similarities the longer he looked. A muscle in his face twitched just as Mar's had when he slept. The boy even had the same notch in the tips of his ears that Mar did. Finally, unable to look any longer, Damas turned away.

Perhaps he was just nostalgic. Surely other children looked like Mar.

Perhaps he was getting sick. Hallucinating, seeing things that weren't there.

Or perhaps, he mused as he sat on his throne, he was finally going insane with grief.

About time.


I love Tess. She's seriously my favorite of the three main ladies. Don't like Ashelin, obvs. Keira is okay, but considering she got downgraded in Jak 3 to "Error 404: Personality Not Found," I feel like she was wasted in that game.

Samos sucks. That is all.