I have been feeling really motivated recently. I have most of the next two chapters already written out, and I am so excited.
Also, I was listening to Cat Stevens' "Father And Son" while writing this. Which just...so many feelings. If you've never heard it, go listen to it. It's fantastic.
It was drizzling when Tess led Jak and Daxter out into the streets. She tugged her coat around her and started walking, her shoes splashing in the puddles. Behind her, Jak sped up to reach her.
"Thanks," Jak said awkwardly. "For what you said back there."
"It's just annoying," she grumbled. "They shove all these problems onto you two the second you get back."
"I get it, though," Jak replied. "I mean...we are in the middle of a war. And I'm the Baron's weapon," he added bitterly.
Tess stopped in her tracks, causing Jak to practically run into her from behind. "You're not a weapon. You are you, Jak." She put her hands on her hips and gave him a bright smile. "A good friend. I just wish they treated you like one."
Jak felt himself smile back. "...Thanks, Tess."
"And, don't forget, you're also my sweet little Daxxie's sidekick!" She winked and rubbed said ottsel's head. "You protect my little precious when he has to go into danger."
"Aw, Tessie!" Daxter hopped over to Tess and nuzzled her neck. "You're such a sweetie!"
"Oh, I'll miss you, my hero!" Tess nuzzled him back and Jak made a face. "Going off to save the world again! We're too good for you here."
Much to Jak's relief, they'd reached the transport. The driver was reading a magazine with his feet on the dash. Tess released Daxter, who returned to Jak's shoulder.
"Now, listen, boys. Be safe out there. I don't want any harm to come to my sweet, handsome hero!" She batted her eyes at Daxter and then gave Jak a warm smile. "If you ever need anything, but don't feel like dealing with all of their crap, just send Sig with a message, okay?"
"Thanks, Tess." Jak hesitated. "Are you going to be okay with them? Won't they be mad?"
"Don't you worry about me," she assured him. "I can handle myself. I've already been dealing with their bitching for the past month or so."
Jak gave her a grin. "Well...I'll be back, I promise."
"And take care of him out there, okay?" She gave Daxter a wink. "We need to keep our boy safe."
"Don't I always?" Daxter's fur rustled as the door to the air train opened. Jak waved as the door closed and Tess watched them ride away. She tightened her jacket against the wind before turning back to go home.
The inside of the transport was empty, as usual. Jak settled in the seat and sighed, then gently slid his hands over his face.
"Uh-oh. Is this the part where you get all moody?" Daxter teased. Jak rolled his eyes. "Oh, no, it is!"
"I just...I thought my darkness was getting better." He didn't know a good way to explain it, but Daxter understood. "I thought with all these new dark powers and the light eco that...I could control it."
Daxter shrugged. "Seems like you control it pretty well to me."
"Daxter. I really...I felt like I was going to hit Samos. I didn't change, but it felt like I was going to." Jak took a deep breath. "Who knows what would've happened if Tess hadn't said anything."
"Eh, it'd have been fine." Daxter waved his paw breezily. "You've never hurt me when Dark and Ugly shows up."
"But you're different." That was all Jak said. That was all he needed to say.
"Well, maybe you should talk to Seem," Daxter suggested. "Wasn't she supposed to help you out?"
"...Yeah. Yeah, I'll do that." He wasn't exactly looking forward to hanging out with Seem, but if it helped him get ahold of his dark powers…
Seem it was.
Both Jak and Daxter fell asleep on the way to Spargus. It had been a tiring day; Jak still ached from his fight with Erol, and Daxter was always up for a nap.
Their nap quickly turned into a 7 hour sleep.
When Jak woke up, rubbing his eyes, he realized they were no longer moving. Glancing out the window, he saw a dim light that signaled sunrise.
"Dax! Wake up." He lifted his friend off his chest, where the ottsel had been curled up. "We're here."
He climbed out of the transport and knocked on the window of the driver's door. The driver lowered it and gave him a smile. "Feelin' better, warrior?"
The driver was one of the Wastelanders that Jak saw every once in a while, usually in the bar where he and Sig would relax. "How come you didn't wake us up?"
"Saw no reason. You were both knocked the hell out, and I wasn't goin' nowhere. Best to let you sleep it off." He tapped the wheel and gave Jak a salute with his fingers. "Good journey to ya."
"Yeah. Safe journey, too." Jak nodded as the driver rolled the window up. "C'mon, Dax, let's get inside. I think there's a storm coming."
"Yeah, yeah," Daxter mumbled sleepily, leaning against Jak's head and using his hair as a pillow. "There's always a storm comin'..."
Jak walked towards the gates of Spargus, his feet sinking into the sand. It felt familiar, comforting, almost...nostalgic. Like walking along Sentinel Beach. He pulled his scarf up against the harsh winds.
Going into Spargus, Jak marveled at how quiet it was. He'd grown used to the busy bustle of the desert city: hearing merchants call out their wares, the occasional scuffle of Wastelander fights, leaper lizards hopping and rolling around as their masters prodded them.
But in this early hour, he didn't see a single soul out. His footsteps didn't echo, but they were unusually loud without the other people to muffle them. As he got closer to the turret, he could hear the sound of the ocean crashing against the rocky shore.
Jak glanced around, expecting to see a few seagulls flying by or perhaps even Kleiver, trying to beat Jak's score on the turret. No; there was no one around.
His eyes caught a shadow off to the side of the shore. Almost no one.
Damas.
He was standing up on the rocks above the sea, watching the tide push and pull. Jak hesitated, then went to climb up after him. As he reached for the next level of rocks, he felt a pain run up his side and hissed.
Damas glanced behind him. "Ah. The prodigal son returns. I'm glad to see you're still among the living."
"So am I." Jak winced as he pulled himself onto the rocks. Damas, sharp-eyed as he was, noticed.
"You were injured." It was a statement, not a question, and Jak knew better than to deny it. Instead, he just lifted up his tunic to show Damas. There was a series of bruises all along the side of Jak's midriff. They'd begun to turn a blotchy purple-blue, almost like dark eco itself. Damas reached out a hand and pressed his palm against them. Jak grit his teeth in pain. "Hmm. It looks like you have a few broken ribs."
Jak rolled his shirt back down. "It could've been worse. At least it'll heal."
"True," Damas mused. "A warrior fights on, even when faced with pain."
Damas abruptly reached over and squeezed Jak's injured shoulder, hard. The teenager let out a yelp of pain, startling Daxter awake and making Damas smirk.
"But there are some injuries that need to be cared for, if you are to be of any use. Come." Damas leapt off the rocks with surprising grace and nodded towards the palace. "We'll get you bandaged up."
Damas likes having Jak around.
There's a part of him that rebels against it, a part of his mind that argues that Jak is not Mar, the boy is not his son, he cannot replace Mar.
But the more practical part of his mind tells him that it doesn't matter. Jak is not replacing Mar; he's just another warrior, a warrior that Damas happens to think could use a little guidance.
Especially after hearing that Jak didn't know his father. That struck Damas somewhere deep down inside him, a young boy left to fend for himself. A strong heart and a smart head, but rough around the edges.
How could Jak learn what was never shown? Integrity, loyalty, grit? All things a son learns from his father. Without that guidance, Jak was just a boy, lost in the tide.
There had been a time, not the first, when Jak and another Wastelander were brought to Damas. It happened often out here, where disputes were often settled with physical fights. But Damas couldn't have his warriors fighting each other.
Jak looked like he'd gotten the brunt of the beating; he had a nice goose egg on the back of his head and his knuckles were swollen. The other Wastelander, Eylin, had a few superficial scratches on his face, along with a prominent black eye. Damas was, quite frankly, glad he wasn't looking at bullet holes.
"What could you two have possibly been fighting about?" he demanded. Both Jak and Eylin looked chagrined. "Well?!"
"...The boy stole some food," Eylin replied bitterly. "Had his stupid rat steal it for him."
"Daxter found that fruit," Jak said hotly, while Daxter made a mocking face. "Look, I was willing to just pay for it. But then you started to insult me-!"
"Yeah! You called him worthless!" Daxter started to make rude hand gestures, but Eylin slapped his furry hand away. "Hey!"
"Don't touch him!" Jak snarled, but he could barely be heard over Daxter's shout of indignation.
"Enough!"
Damas' voice echoed through the throne room. They stopped speaking immediately, though Daxter was still making faces. "I said enough," Damas snapped at him, which made him stop. "Now, Eylin, did Jak offer to pay for the food?"
"...Yeah," Eylin said begrudgingly. "I woulda taken it, but then he got all huffy about it."
"You calling him worthless?"
Eylin nodded. "Yes, sir."
Damas sighed and rubbed his temples. "You know better, Eylin. Youth is foolish, but age is responsible for tempering youth."
"...Eh?"
"Don't egg people on, Eylin," Damas said dryly. "You could have just taken the money and let it be." He sighed again and gestured to the elevator. "Go, then. I will speak with Jak."
Eylin nodded, then left, still glaring at Jak and Daxter. Damas sat down in his throne and motioned for Jak to step closer. The boy did so.
"Youthful foolishness is a reason," Damas said, "not an excuse. Do you routinely go around starting fights because someone called you a bad name?"
"I don't take other people's shit," Jak said curtly. "I'm not a doormat."
"Nor is any Wastelander," the king reminded him. "I told you before, reckless actions can get you killed out here. Punching another warrior in the face because he called you a name is hardly productive."
Jak clenched his fists at his side. "Easy for you to say," he mumbled. "Nobody called you worthless."
Damas slammed his hands on the throne as he stood up. "Do you think no one ever has?" he asked. "Do you think I have never been called worthless, foolish, pathetic, and weak? Am I supposed to fight all of them?"
Jak's head snapped up. "Who called you weak?"
Damas shook his head. "We are not speaking of me. We are speaking of you, Jak, and the recklessness of your actions. Eylin was not in the right, but you threw the first punch. You chose to escalate the situation."
"Look, can you just punish me and let me go?" Jak spat. "I don't need the lecture."
"Clearly you do!" Damas stepped closer. "You are not foolish, Jak, so I do not understand why you are acting foolishly. Why do you allow your own hard-headedness to get the best of you?"
Jak folded his arms and looked away. "Maybe that's just who I am," he replied bitterly. "Just some punk kid who's only good for fighting."
"You know who and what you are, Jak." Damas folded his own arms, looking down at Jak imperiously. "If that's what you truly think of yourself, why should anyone see anything else? Why should Eylin treat you with respect, when you clearly have none for yourself?"
Jak seemed to shrink in front of him, hunching his shoulders. "...I...I respect myself."
"Then act like it. Choose your battles wisely. Show that you are worthy of being treated well, and others will treat you well." Damas nodded at the empty elevator. "If you act like you are worthless, then others will treat you like you are worthless. If you act like a warrior, others will treat you like one."
Jak swallowed and his face twisted in some indescribable expression. "I'm sorry."
Damas blinked. He hadn't expected Jak, usually so brusque and brash, to speak so quietly. As he watched, Jak put his face in his hands. Daxter patted the boy's back.
"I'm sorry. I know all that, I just...it hurts, you know?"
Damas nodded sympathetically. "Yes, I know, all too well. But hurt does not give you the right to lash out at others, no matter how they may have hurt you. It will only hinder yourself."
With that, Damas reached over and squeezed Jak's shoulder. "Look at me." Jak did so. "Now that you have learned your lesson, let me teach you another."
"What?" Jak seemed apprehensive, but intrigued.
"...Mistakes, Jak, can always be learned from. And if you learn from them, you will grow." Damas nodded at the elevator again. "Now, go give Eylin an apology and pay for the fruit. And mean it," he added.
Jak nodded and turned away. "Um...thanks."
Damas watched him go, his chest feeling tight. It took a few seconds after Jak and Daxter had left before he sighed heavily and went back to his throne.
"Take your shirt off and lean forward." Damas nodded approvingly as Jak did so, sitting down on a stone. The throne room was dim, but lit enough that you could see the water at your feet. "I'll be right back."
Jak glanced down at his reflection. Now that he could see it clearly, that bruise did look pretty bad. It looked like he'd been peppered with hits all along his side. It was probably from when Erol had kicked him, he thought to himself. Daxter glanced over at him.
"Geez! And I thought you couldn't get any uglier." He dove into the water and relaxed. "How come you don't heal yourself?"
Jak shrugged, then immediately regretted it. "Ah! That hurt." He saw Daxter raise an eyebrow. "Shoulder. Anyway, I didn't get the chance to get any light eco. I should probably grab some after this."
Daxter began to backstroke across the pool. Behind them, Damas reappeared, a roll of bandages in his hand. He settled down behind Jak and unwound the roll. "Hold still. I'll tape your ribs."
"Okay." Jak braced himself. Damas began to wrap the bandages around his torso.
"Where'd you learn to play doctor?" Daxter asked, spinning around so that he was watching the two of them.
Damas huffed air out of his nose. He was working quickly, wrapping the bandages sloppily, but it did the job. "Ask any warrior and they'll be able to tape a few cracked ribs. War makes you a quick learner." He cut the bandages and tucked it tightly. "There we are. Now onto the shoulder."
As Damas began to assemble some kind of a sling with the bandages, Jak exhaled softly. "At least you're quick about it," he commented. "Most of the medics I know take forever."
Damas gave a short bark of laughter. "A word of wartime advice, Jak?" He settled the sling snugly over Jak's neck. "A terrifying warrior can kill you with one strike. A terrifying medic can kill without one at all." He gently guided Jak's arm into the sling. "Trust me, a medic can be your best friend on the battlefield or your worst enemy after. Better to do as they say and stay on their good side."
Jak thought of Ionna and Samos, the quick and precise way they went about their work, sharp and snappy. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Relax your arm a bit." Jak did as Damas ordered and smiled. "The ribs will hurt for a while, but the sling should take some of the strain off your shoulder."
"Got it." Jak shifted, trying to get comfortable in the makeshift sling.
"Good, then." Damas gathered the materials and stood up. "When the monks wake up, they can provide you with some green eco."
He helped Jak awkwardly stand up and put his shirt back on. "Thanks. Really, I appreciate it."
Jak turned to him and gave him a grateful smile. Damas felt his heart ache, those eyes and that grin mirror images of Mar's. "Get moving, warrior. You're put back together, now get out there and fight the good fight."
Jak grinned even wider and saluted Damas with his free arm. "On it."
