Geez, 25 chapters?! Holy moly, this might be the longest fic I've ever written!
Happy reading, and thanks for sticking with it!
Jak couldn't sleep.
Staring up the ceiling, he couldn't shake the voice of Baron Praxis, raspy and breathless as he spoke his last words.
"Remember, the first rule of making a bomb...is to always make two."
Two of them. There had always been two.
He rolled over on his side, looking towards where Daxter and Keira were sleeping. Daxter was lying in the box, a lump of blankets and orange fur that snored. Keira was curled up in the fetal position, a blanket wrapped around her.
Jak hadn't told them what Seem had said. He'd been quiet and distracted when he arrived back in Spargus, troubled by the story she'd told him. Daxter had suggested that he was just tired from the eco lesson, and Jak didn't bother to correct him.
These were his friends. Once upon a time, he'd been able to tell Daxter and Keira his most well-kept secrets.
But this…
He needed some time to think. To make sense of the story he'd just been told.
He'd tell them eventually.
Jak stood up abruptly, too awake to lie down anymore. He needed to clear his head, get himself straight. He pulled his boots on and crept to the door, careful not to wake them as he slipped outside.
It was cooler out than expected: Sig had told him once that the desert was only hot because of the sun. Jak rubbed his arms and started walking.
Somehow, it bothered him more to think that Praxis had been toying with dark warriors for years before Jak came along. Sure, he'd known that Praxis experimented on others. He'd heard the screams and seen the bodies.
But the fact that Praxis had first wanted to use Seem, a little kid, and throw her into a war she had no chance of winning…
For some reason, that bothered Jak a lot more than anything the bastard had ever done to him.
Jak walked through Spargus, boots scraping against the rocky dirt. Distantly, he could hear the raucous sounds of laughter coming from one of the taverns on the other side of the city. This late, only the partiers and drunks were out. The leaper lizards were all asleep, perched like birds in the shade of the buildings.
He found himself heading for the shore. Jak always felt safe there, listening as the water splashed against the rocks. It reminded him of all those days he'd spent in Sandover, diving for Precursor orbs and chasing seagulls.
You could take the kid out of the ocean, he thought, but you can't take the ocean out of the kid.
A figure loomed from the rocks above the shore, a shadowy sentinel overlooking the sea. A staff in one hand, the other on his hip. Jak automatically felt his mind shift into a better place.
"Damas? What are you doing out here?"
The king turned around, surprised to see Jak scrambling up on the rocks. "I should be asking you the same question. This is hardly a time of night for younglings to be out and about."
Jak stood next to him, looking out over the ocean. "I couldn't sleep," he admitted. "Just...too many thoughts, you know?"
Damas nodded, his lips twisting into a smile. "All too well, I'm afraid."
To Jak's surprise, Damas sat down on the edge of the rocks and gestured for the younger man to join him. Jak sat beside him, his feet dangling above the water.
"Thoughts are often best shared. If you wish to unburden your mind, my ears are open." Damas gave a gruff laugh. "And if not, silence can be calming."
Jak leaned back on his palms, letting the cool breeze blow drops of water over his skin. In the sky above them, the purple splotch of the Day Star glowed between the stars. Jak couldn't help but be reminded of dark eco.
"...You fought with Praxis against the metal heads, didn't you?" Jak asked suddenly. Damas raised an eyebrow. "What was he like back then?"
"Are you asking if he was a tyrannical dictator with sadistic tendencies?" Damas asked wryly.
"Well...yeah, I guess." Jak shifted uncomfortably under the older man's gaze. He got the feeling that Damas had not expected to be talking about his past like this. "I mean, it's not like he was born crazy, right?"
"Hmph. Praxis has done nothing but bring you pain. I would think you'd never want to talk about him again."
"I don't want to talk about him," Jak grumbled. "But…"
He couldn't really explain it. How could he describe the strange hole that sat in his mind, the lack of closure. Praxis was dead, yes; but the effects of his cruelty still remained. In Jak, in Seem, in all the citizens of Haven City itself.
Damas gave a humorless chuckle. "I suppose I did ask you what was on your mind." He leaned back on his palms. "To answer your question, Praxis always had a fervor for the endgame. He firmly believed that the ends justified the means. Unfortunately, I think his obsession with winning the war overtook all sense of morality. He did truly reprehensible things."
"Like creating Dark Warriors," Jak said bitterly. "He couldn't find a soldier to kill the metal head leader, so he decided to make one."
"...Do you know the difference between a soldier and a warrior, Jak?" Damas was looking across the water absent-mindedly, a smile playing on his lips. "What separates a man like Praxis from a man like you?"
"Not a clue."
Damas folded his arms over his chest. "Soldiers," he explained patiently, "fight against enemies. They fight and fight and fight until their enemy is eradicated. Then, they have nothing left."
He turned to Jak then, huffing out a breath of air. "But warriors fight for others. They fight to protect their loved ones, to make their lives better, to build a world worth fighting for."
"And Praxis has only fought against metal heads," Jak said. "Never for the city."
Damas nodded. "He spent his entire life fighting them. He gave up everything for it, sacrificed countless lives, fought like hell, did things no moral man should ever do. He crossed lines that made him a monster, and all for the sake of defeating a single enemy."
Jak frowned. "I just...I have to live with what he did to me." He turned away, his eyes towards the sea. "Every day of my life. I thought if I heard more about him, I'd...understand him. Why he did all this stuff to me."
Damas reached up and pressed his fingers to Jak's chin. He gently turned the boy's face towards him so their eyes met. "Jak. You're searching for answers that won't help you."
"But—!" Jak wanted to argue, to tell Damas that he needed closure, that he'd never really gotten to beat Praxis. But the words died on his tongue.
Because Damas looked sad, more than anything.
"What good does it do to dwell on what Praxis did to you?" Damas shook his head. "You're far beyond that life. Consider all the things you have to fight for now. You're not the weapon that Praxis made, you know. You're a warrior, not a soldier."
Jak swallowed. "I...guess you're right."
"You've accomplished more than Praxis ever intended," Damas said. "You should be very proud of yourself. I know I am."
Jak straightened his back. "Uh...thanks."
Damas gave a bark of a laugh, one that resounded over the ocean waves. It was almost...familiar, Jak thought, but he couldn't place where.
"Remember this," Damas told him lightly, the smile still lingering on his face. "Praxis sacrificed everything and everyone for the sake of destroying the metal heads. But you know that there is life after the battle is won. Do you think Praxis was fighting for peace, or a better world? Or do you think he was fighting just to win?"
Jak sat quietly, digesting Damas' words. Finally, he said, "Are you so sure that I'm not like him?"
Damas raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"When I first got out of the prison," Jak said, his voice stilted, trying to keep it steady, "all I wanted to do was kill Praxis. That was the first thing I said to Daxter. I wanted him dead, and I wanted to be the one to do it. I made it my mission, and for a long time, that was all I cared about."
"Praxis is dead," Damas said bluntly. "Tell me, what do you care about now?"
Jak closed his eyes. "I...Daxter." His eyes fluttered open, determination in the sparkling blue. "I care about Daxter, and Keira, and Sig, and...everyone in Haven. And I care about you, too," he added. "The people in Spargus, Ionna and Seem and...even Kleiver, I guess. I want this war over so I can just sit here and relax with all my friends and family."
The word slipped out before Jak could even comprehend it: family. It was a strange, foreign word on his tongue. After all, he'd never had a family. His uncle, sure, but the absence of a real family, of parents and brothers and sisters...it had always stung.
But what else could he call them? Daxter had always been his brother, there through thick and thin. Samos had been like a grandfather: distant, but always a steady presence in his life.
And what had the Wastelanders become to him? Those who had fed him, taught him, nursed him back to health? If they weren't family, what were they?
"You forgot someone, warrior."
Jak frowned as Damas stood up. Who had he left out?
"You must also fight for yourself." Damas' voice was firm and warm, heartening in a way that appealed to Jak. He held out a hand to help the teenager up. "You are worth fighting for, too, Jak."
Jak grinned and took his hand. As Damas hauled him to his feet, he saw the light go on in the window of his little home. Someone—Keira, probably, since Daxter could sleep through an earthquake—was awake, and probably wondering where he'd gone. Damas followed his gaze.
"You'd best get home. And get some sleep," he added sternly. "You've got people to protect."
War was tiring.
It took its toll. The older Krimzon Guards—Praxis, Antwon, and Yasir—were used to the mental and emotional turmoil that came with constant battle. They had learned to cope with it, albeit in sometimes unhealthy ways. But Ali, Damas, and Ionna were younger. They hadn't adjusted to the pain of war yet.
Ionna was most obvious: she had become hyper vigilant in the past year, jerking her head towards any loud noises and flinching when anyone touched her. Her hands shook sometimes, and she would have to take deep breaths to steady herself.
Ali mostly seemed to be very tired. He would sometimes stare off into space, a faraway look in his eyes, and wouldn't snap out of it until Yasir called his name several times. He claimed it was just trouble concentrating, but Damas saw how his gaze would slide out of focus sometimes, when he was shouldering his gun after battle.
But Damas seemed to be having the most trouble. He often woke up in the middle of the night, gasping for air, mind spinning from dreams he couldn't remember. It got to the point where he would show up to meetings exhausted, listless and unable to think clearly. Eventually, Ionna gave him a packet of green herbs from the temple.
"To help you sleep," she told him. "Make a tea with it, drink it about ten minutes before you go to bed."
And it worked. Damas would sleep peacefully through the night, dreams gone by morning.
But the longer the war went on, the more people died, and the worse it became. At this point, Damas had seen his fair share of soldiers fall to the metal heads. He'd seen Ionna desperately try to heal men with missing limbs, only for them to succumb to blood loss. She'd put her head in her hands, the blood marking her hood, before saying last rites.
He'd seen Antwon and Praxis load up bodies while Yasir wrapped them in cloth. For most of them, families would not get to say goodbye; a small blessing, though, since most of the bodies had been half-torn apart. There would be pyres for the dead, and their ashes returned to the families.
He'd seen Ali become violently ill as they lit the pyres, doubled over as Yasir gently rubbed his back. The flames flickering in the light of his eyes, until he finally turned away, unable to look anymore.
He'd seen widows and orphans, parents who'd lost their sons and daughters, siblings who were suddenly only children. He'd heard sobs that seemed to be ripped from the depth of mothers' chests, vicious swears spat at him in rage, denial that dissolved into hopeless grief.
But he'd seen the other side, too.
Damas had seen the bazaar in the mornings, when the shopkeepers set up their stalls, hopeful that they'd have a good day. He'd seen festivals, full of lights and laughter, food that had been carefully rationed for the event. He'd seen weddings, with dancing and singing, lovely couples who could forget about the war, just for a day.
Damas had seen people worth protecting.
Maybe that was why he did it. Why he walked into the strategy meeting, surrounded by the Krimzon Guard he'd begun to think of as his best friends, despite all their differences. Why he put his palms flat on the table and leaned forward, his words sharp.
"We're going to attack the metal head nest. This ends now."
"Not even a note! You coulda been dead for all we knew!"
Jak rolled his eyes. "I already apologized, Daxter. And you weren't even awake for it."
"Not the point!" Daxter dramatically clutched his chest. "Oh! What would we have done if he hadn't returned, Keira?"
"I don't know about you," she said dryly, "but I would've gone back to sleep."
Jak laughed as his boots hit the rocky ground. He'd gotten back just as Keira was getting dressed to go find him, though he'd never tell Daxter that. He'd eased her worries by telling her he just went out for some fresh air.
And now, with a few hours of sleep behind him, Jak was heading to find Ionna.
Keira stopped at the entrance to the palace's elevator. "Well," she said, "I guess I'd better go. I'll see you later today?"
"Yeah, of course." Jak hesitated, then gave her a brief, one-armed hug. Evidently, this surprised both Keira and Daxter, who stared at him in shock. "What?"
"Nothing," Keira said, a grin breaking on her face. "Nothing at all."
Daxter, however, wasn't quite as quiet as Keira. As they walked away from the elevator, watching the door shut on her, he teased, "Aww, you're back to hugs, not drugs!"
"Shut up, Dax." Jak rolled his eyes. "I just...wanted to hug my friend, is that so bad?"
"Aww! You big softie! Here, you wanna hug from me?" Daxter didn't wait for an answer, instead throwing his arms around Jak's head. Through the orange fur covering his eyes, Jak saw Sig jogging up to them.
"Hey, chili peppers, glad I caught you two."
"Sig!" Daxter let go of Jak's head to reach his arms out toward Sig. "I'm givin' out free hugs over here. What'da say?"
"I say, that sounds like Jak's problem." Sig put his hands on his hips. "Ionna said she wants to meet you at the Arena for your lesson today."
"The Arena?" Jak and Daxter exchanged looks. "Why?"
Sig shrugged. "Don't know, but you better get going. She's waiting there now."
"We better hurry," Jak said. He started running, waving back at Sig. "Thanks! We'll see you later!"
They made it to the Arena quickly, stumbling up the stone steps and into the sweltering volcano. Down below, Jak could see Ionna, waiting in the center of the platform. He reached her and put his hands on his hips.
"Ah. I see you got my message," she greeted. She was dressed differently, he noticed: she didn't usually wear armor, but today she wore a chestplate and arm guards. "We're going to practice shooting eco today, and Damas was kind enough to let us use the Arena for a training ground."
Jak glanced around. "I don't see any dummies," he said.
In fact, there wasn't anything around. The Arena was in its dormant state, with nothing but a flat platform on the lava.
"And what good is it to shoot at dummies, when you'll be fighting something dangerous?" Ionna asked. "No, you're going to shoot at something dangerous. You're going to shoot at me."
Jak blinked at her, while Daxter mumbled something about Wastelanders and their heads. "But...listen, I don't want to…"
"You won't hurt me," she said firmly, tightening the straps on her armor. "I'd have thought you'd have learned that by now."
It was true, of course, though it definitely hurt Jak's pride to admit it. He folded his arms. "Yeah, but…"
"But nothing." Her tone was even as she readied herself in a battle stance. "Come now, get into your stance."
Jak did as she told him. "Ready."
"Now, you're going to do the same thing we did yesterday," she said, modeling the movements. "Except now, you're going to let the eco propel out of your palm."
They went through the movements together for a few moments, before Ionna said, "Alright, watch me."
Jak took a step back, Daxter swaying on his shoulder. Both of them eagerly waited while Ionna took a deep breath.
Faster than they expected, Ionna moved. Her movements were fluid and quick: an outstretched arm and suddenly a flash of light zoomed by them. By the time Jak had blinked the stars from his eyes, the shot had dissipated against the rock wall.
"Whoohoo!" Daxter cheered from Jak's shoulder. "Do it again, do it again!"
She did so, three more shots in quick succession. Finally, she turned to Jak. "Your turn. Let's see what you've got."
Jak nodded and took a deep breath. "Here we go."
He pulled on the eco he'd stored up and mimicked her movements, jolting his arm forward. With his palm out, he felt the eco flow up his arm and towards his hand.
Before it hit his fingertips, it fizzled out into nothing but bluish-white sparks. He blinked and Daxter laughed. "Wh-what happened?"
Ionna was fighting a smile. "Well, you didn't quite...put enough power into it. Try again, but put your whole body into it. It's a motion, not a movement."
Jak nodded and tried again. This time, he threw his whole body weight behind it. To his surprise, the eco zipped out of his hand, exploding out of his palm with a lot more force than he remembered.
"Excellent!" Ionna clapped her hands together as the eco exploded against the rocks. "Though not surprising. Here, adjust your shoulders and keep your arms straight."
Jak did as he was told and fired another shot. He grinned at the scorch mark it made on the rocks. "This is great. Can you imagine the damage this could do to one of those KG death bots?"
"Ha! That'd wipe their mechanical wires off the map!" Daxter pretended to fight an imaginary death bot. "Ka-pow! Hiya! And some o' that!"
Ionna led him through a few more shots, adjusting and advising him every time. Finally, she said, "Good. Now, let's up the ante, shall we?"
She moved to the other side of the platform, a good hundred feet away. A glimmer of light and her skin turned an unearthly white, her eyes an icy blue. "Take aim at me. I'll move fast, so keep on your toes."
Jak nodded and readied himself. She nodded, satisfied, and waited. He pulled back his arm and fired a shot.
Before it reached her, she clapped her hands.
With a blur of movement and the crackling sensation of blue eco, Ionna disappeared. He saw bits and pieces: a flash of her armor there, the echo of a boot on the metal. He saw enough to know that she was headed towards him.
In a panic, he fired another shot of eco at her, though it missed by a mile. She was moving too fast; by the time he realized he'd missed, he felt her fingers grip his wrist tightly. Another hand grabbed the ring on the front of his tunic, and before he knew it, he was slammed to the ground on his back, his head bouncing on the metal platform.
Daxter screeched, but Jak knew he was fine: he could feel his friend climb onto his chest. "Oww…"
"A solid attempt," Ionna said with a smirk. "But you got caught up in what I was doing, instead of considering what I was planning."
She helped Jak to his feet and returned to her previous spot. "Remember," she called, "anticipate your enemy's movements. Aim for where I am going to be, not where I am."
Jak nodded in understanding and readied himself. This time, however, he and Ionna stood staring at each other for a few minutes.
He was waiting. Waiting for her to make the first move.
She smiled knowingly and clapped her hands.
This time, Jak was a bit more prepared. He shot twice at her, both times missing, but when she pinned him, she said, "Good job."
Jak blinked up at her. Daxter had, wisely, decided to take a flying leap off his shoulder before Ionna grabbed him. As Jak stood up, Daxter said, "Ya know, I don't think Wastelanders are normal people. What was good about that? He missed!"
"But he almost didn't." Ionna indicated her tunic, which had a tiny black mark where the eco had buzzed by. "Good eyes, child."
Jak grinned as she returned to her position. Daxter clung to his shoulder and they began their stare-off again. In the back of his mind, Damas' words suddenly echoed.
Sometimes...
Ionna finally moved, jolting forward so fast he couldn't see her, but this time he was ready.
...you wait…
He shot again, but knew it would miss. He kept his eyes on Ionna's hands as they reached for him.
...until their weakness is revealed.
He braced himself when she grabbed him and slammed him into the platform again.
"Not bad," she told him. "Try again."
They stood apart for another few seconds, but this time, Jak shot first. Ionna dodged it as easily as the first time, but he was ready. As she ran for him and reached to grab him again, he ducked.
Ionna, who hadn't expected him to move, grasped nothing but air. For a moment, she stumbled, having to take an extra step to steady herself above him. Before she could register that she didn't have a hold on Jak, his instincts kicked in.
He punched straight up, his fist slamming into her nose. With a crunch and spurt of blood, she was knocked back, landing on the platform several feet away. Jak winced and ran to her.
"Sorry! I didn't mean to hit you that hard." He could see blood gushing from her nose, but she laughed thickly. "Huh?"
"No," she agreed, reaching for his wrist, "you really didn't."
He glanced down as she pulled his hand in front of his face. There, spreading across his fingers like flames, was red eco.
Suddenly, he was pulled back to a lifetime ago: among the monstrous bones of Misty Island; in the bitter cold wind of Snowy Mountain's peak; surrounded by Lurkers that snapped and clashed at him in the Citadel.
"I...I didn't...mean to…" Jak stared in wonder at his fingertips, entranced even as the eco faded away. Ionna laughed again and reached a hand up to her nose, healing herself. "I didn't mean to do that."
From behind him, Daxter whooped. "Man, we oughta sell tickets to stuff like this! I bet some folks in Haven City would pay a lot to see the two of you duke it out."
Jak rolled his eyes and helped Ionna up. She still had blood all over her face and dripping down her tunic, but she didn't even notice. "You're starting to develop eco powers without being explicitly taught them. You're even able to transition between the powers naturally. Well done!"
Jak beamed. "Thanks. I mean, I don't think I really did anything…"
Ionna waved him off. "It's quite an impressive feat, especially given the timeframe you learned it in."
Daxter jumped up on Jak's shoulder. "Yeah, maybe one day you'll be as good as me!"
"Now," Ionna said, touching her face with a bemused smile, "if you don't mind, I'm going to head back to infirmary, as I think you may have broken my nose."
"Uh...sorry." Jak rubbed the back of his neck, but Ionna hardly seemed bothered. "I'll be a little more careful next time."
"I certainly hope not!" Ionna said abruptly. "We're training you to face some fearsome enemies. Treat it like what it is: a battle."
With that, Ionna headed for the platform that took her up. "Damas said you're welcome to train here as long as you'd like," she said. "Feel free to get some extra practice in!"
Jak and Daxter watched her go. "You know," Daxter said conversationally, "I'll bet you can get real good with that red stuff if you try again."
Jak stared at his hand, the memory of eco still lingering. He closed it into a fist and grinned at Daxter. "Let's do it."
