Introspective Hero, chp. 9a

Chapter 9, Marks of the Past

‘
Begin Introspection. Serial code: Samos the Sage.
‘

There will come a day, and I fear it will be sooner than later… when Jak doesn’t come back to Haven. Not because he dies trying, but because he will choose not to. He does not speak much of the wasteland when he is with us, but one single phrase was enough to tell me everything. He told Daxter at one point, “let’s go back”. That was all I needed, because I can read Jak well enough to tell.

    His tone was not very eager, but it only took one look on his face, the way his eyebrows rose just the slightest and the scowl eased. He has found a home in the very place that was supposed to be his grave.

    But even if he is happy there, it’s not in him, not in anybody, to forgive the ones that let him be thrown out. Not completely. Jak will fight for us because he still cares, he cannot turn his back on us and let us die. Such things are not in his nature. Yet it is undeniable that he did not make it out unscathed. He has been let down so many times by us, by this city, that I believe that this might have been the last shove he could deal with. Even if he would say it loud, “I forgive you”, it would not be true. And we all know it. Still, we have all tried to make it up for him, ever since he found a way back to Haven. I can assure you that it has not gone unnoticed, as Daxter has been very pleased to make his usual idiotic comments about it.

    We have to make it up for him somehow, it is a feeling all of us share. Onin, Pecker and I have the ability to do something more than the others, and we are carefully reaching out – Ashelin may have been able to help, but due to the delicate matter of this project and her already pressed situation, I suggested she stays out of it.

    For me, it is not only a matter of repenting my failure to save Jak from being exiled. It goes far, far further back, three years ago and more.

    Time… does not move in a perfect circle. My past in Haven, my own memories of the battle against Metal Kor from when I was younger… those things do not match with what happened in this timeline. I recall a far more desperate battle, a more frightening one.

    In my past, we did not have a Jak to save us. The grown hero simply did not exist, for he had never been sent back in time to grow strong and then return.

    What we had, was a child whom a blind seer had promised could change history itself to prevent our annihilation.

    Perhaps we started a time loop, as the child of this time was successfully sent through the precursor ring as well. I can only pray that this loop is stable, that my past is indeed merged with this happier one.

    The sacrifices we made in my past were too terrible. For my own sanity I must believe they have been undone. Perhaps I am still left with the memory because I let the innocent child be sacrificed as well.

    I could have warned him, told him that we may come to a strange place. Told him to flee if he saw men in red armor.

    Yes indeed, the Krimzon Guard under Baron Praxis’ reign did patrol the Haven I recall as well.

    Why then, did I not warn Jak? I cannot make excuses, it was neglect and foolishness on my part, and I will surely be made to pay further for it. While I did know that Praxis was a cruel man, I had no concept of the inhuman treatment he put Jak through for two long years.

    Perhaps I did not realize the lengths at which that man was willing to go, but on the other hand… how could I know that he would have information of Jak’s abilities? But no, I have no right to excuse myself.
    Still, the last I saw of Praxis in my time… gave me a bit of hope, if that is the word, that he may not be the tyrant completely blind to people’s suffering, the man we had thought him to be. It is… difficult to keep hating a man, when he once was your enemy but in different times was forced into an alliance.

    We were losing, all of us were. And in those desperate times an alliance was formed between tyrant, rebels, and betrayed. All for that one hope in a child whom the precursors had faith in.

    It was a long, agonizing process getting everyone to agree, nothing else can be claimed.

    Yet somehow in the end, we fought our way into the metal head nest, all of us – Krimzon Guards, Undergrounders, wastelanders and lurkers alike. It was not a winning battle, but the light of the precursor ring drove us onwards. Even me, an old man and aspiring sage, clutching an unconscious child in my arms.

    The child was always silent, a fear of him giving himself away was not why we had drugged him into unconsciousness. Many men died there. Many dear men. It is not a sight for such young eyes.

    Still now, I recall activating the rift rider in a haze of shock, screams ringing in my ears. One of the last things I saw was Praxis crushed beneath the gigantic monster’s paw. That much triumph was granted to Lord Damas, that the man who betrayed him died first. And I want to believe that his dimming eyes caught sight of me and the boy fleeing, knowing we were safe – knowing he had bought enough time, before he died between Kor’s jaws, his armor and bones crushed into spoils falling down the hard chins.

    Knowing that his son would be safe.

    And now…

    You cannot force somebody to believe. But for Jak’s sake, all our sakes… I agreed to try, to give the child something back for all his suffering. For all the sacrifices.

    Just a little prod, a thoughtless and vague comment made by a talking, flying monkey… to a man used to only believing his own eyes – but still knowing to trust in the monkaw’s master. While no one else heard, just a little hint.

    That is all we have tried, and it is all we can hope for. This knowledge is far too strange to force upon somebody. A man who only believes what he sees must first be made to doubt, then study the hints on his own. Only then can he who does not know the truth choose how to handle it. It is not our right to push him there, neither can it be done.

    Lord Damas is not prone to accept absurdities.

‘
End Introspection.
‘

For an eternity, Jak could not get to his feet. He managed to drag himself back to Daxter’s side, something about safety already driving him on. But once back there, he sat frozen and only stared.

    It seemed like something impossible, ripped straight out of everything lost from so long ago. Even more precious now, breathing, within reach. Alive. Cold fingers and blades gone, no longer threatening the precious neck.

    He vaguely heard his own breathing, and the wheezing from Daxter’s nose. In the background, the howl of the wind continued undisturbed by the chaos that had just passed. He felt the cold, and the rocks digging into his legs. But he didn’t register any of it. All he could do was stare.

    Daxter. Alive.

    And… back.

    He should have been dead. And yet…

    It may be impossible to walk out safely with Daxter on his shoulder, but Jak felt, though he was in no state to formulate it, that he could live with the loss of that plan.

    Sometime during this paralyzed phase, Jak mechanically pulled off his scarf and dropped it over parts Daxter probably would be grateful to find covered once he woke up.

    Eventually though, there really was no time for such stunned musings.

Brain to body, do you copy? Do you copy? Ya think the metal heads are going to leave you alone just because you’ve forgotten about them? For the love of- move it, you buffoon!

    The more sensible parts of Jak’s brain finally gave up the shouting and rammed the metaphorical butt of a subconscious morph gun into the paralyzed parts. He blinked a few times, shaking his head to clear it of the confusion.

    Right. Cave armed with a metal-pede. Time to move.

    He had to admit to himself though, that his hands actually were shaking just the slightest as he shoved his arms beneath the warm back and limp knees. Shock was definitely not good for his image.

    Well, Daxter could not see it and by the time the redhead woke up, Jak hoped that he would have gotten his heart down from the racing level and mind set straight again.

    Hopefully Daxter could deal with being knocked out for a looong time.   

    Jak stood up and set his gaze ahead, hurrying forwards to pick up his morph gun. The sand crunched beneath his boots in the sudden silence – reminding him of the dangers more than ever. Apart from the wind, nothing did anything against the noise he tried to keep down. But it was difficult moving silently with the extra weight. Jak frowned, but never stopped – only looked around with more suspicion.

    He had to set his friend back down for a moment to pick up his gun, protectively reaching over Daxter’s unmoving form to grab the weapon.

    That was when he noted the angrily red area on the thin lower arm – with a heart of a deepening black-and-blue hue. His brow shot downwards at the sight of darkness on the pale skin, making him forget the gun for a moment as he took hold of Daxter’s wrist and lifted the arm for closer inspection. It was a large mark, disturbing in its size – stretching down the thicker end of Daxter’s arm, on the underside where the skin was smoother and softer. Jak moved his gaze and frowned deeper as he found a similar, though lighter, mark on the other arm, almost a mirror of the first.

    Had Daxter hit his arms on something? Maybe in the fall?

    No…

    He recalled seeing everything in a haze – it was nothing he wasn’t used to, turning into his dark self always included that.

    But there had been that sudden invasion of something light that flew at his prey, a familiar voice that gasped something – confusion drowning in rage, he hadn’t cared anymore than noting that something was there. Something that didn’t matter as long as he killed his prey.

    Now that the eco no longer clouded his senses and his heartbeat was slowing together with his breath, he could piece things together.

    Through the haze, that moving blur that latched onto his prey. The cruel light that suddenly moved. He had known that the light was important, but he had forgotten why in the rage.

    Now he knew it was the laser cannon, aimed straight at him. Impending death, but he only felt momentarily disturbed by how close it had been. As he looked down to Daxter, he saw the arms that had clumsily grabbed the hard leg – movement so violent that he had bruised himself. Grabbing and pulling, making Erol lose his balance and aim.

    Jak let go of the limp arm, raising his hand to Daxter’s cheek. Thumb brushing against the round nose, in shape hilariously similar to the black, wet button it had been mere minutes ago. The cheek was soft, not as much as Keira’, but it felt much more smooth and warm against his roughened palm.

    Not a handsome face, not even a pleasant sight in the odd light of the cavern – the sick glow of the moss giving the skin a grayish tone, dampening the red of Daxter’s hair into a withering brown. But the real colors had been there, fully visible in the purer light of the eco – and it would be that way again as soon as they got out of the cave.

    No, not a handsome face; angular and oddly shaped like the bones had been stretched and pressed back a couple of times. But with its sorely missed familiarity, alive and safe… it was beautiful.

    Jak smiled, squeezing the shoulder in his hand. Wanted Daxter to be awake then, regardless of confusion – wanted to see the blue eyes open, blinking slowly, then widen in surprise at the sight of his own furless hands. Wanted to grin at the look on that face.

    But if there was one thing Jak had learnt, it was that things tended to go to hell when he really wanted them to be alright.

    That thought sobered him, letting the peace last only for a couple of seconds before he hastily grabbed the morph gun, returned it to its holster and gathered Daxter in his arms again. That done Jak stood up and started on the quick trek back towards the Hopper.

    He headed for the lower slope of the hills – a bit too close to the ravine, but it would be easier to climb.

    It was too quiet.  

    He started up the slope, the sand giving away and sliding beneath his boots. For each step it brought him back half a pace, making the climb excruciatingly slow.

    One step. Two steps. One back.

    Jak gritted his teeth, glancing over his shoulder. There was no real telling whether or not Erol had actually left or just taken off someplace safer – even if it did seem plausible that he was gone, with the lack of attacks during those stunned moments a little while back. Still, there was definitely something else in the cave apart from the warrior and the newly-turned-youngster he tightly held.

    Two steps. One back.

    He was almost by the top, lifted his foot one last time to pass over onto more stable ground-

    And of course, that was when something huge smashed through the ground on the other side of the valley, sending rocks flying. A hoarse screech filled the air, echoing among the crashes of falling rocks.

    Jak didn’t even waste time looking around. He ran.

    Behind him, still far away but hardly far enough, the monstrous body of the metal head hit the ground and started forwards on bloodthirsty claws.

    Roles suddenly reversed, the metal-pede the hunter and the two young men the prey. Erol must have held it back earlier.

    Frustration and dark eco merged within the warrior and he gritted his teeth against the roars of his entire being, revolting against fleeing. But tightening the grip of Daxter sent a cold shower over his temperament. He had stepped out of the car prepared to fight the damn monster on foot, but at that point Daxter had been sitting on his shoulder, small enough to slip down his shirt if worst came to worst. That was not the situation anymore. Now, Jak would have to drop his unconscious friend on the ground in order to fight, leaving him defenseless.

    Protecting Daxter came first. Jak just had to keep both of them alive until he could strike against he opponent.

    The opponent who, by the sound of it, had just made it into the valley. It tumbled and screeched, the sound subdued just the slightest by the sunk position. Hopefully it would have a bit of trouble climbing out, too.

    They had to get out of sight before the damn thing got them in its beady sights again.

    Jak narrowed his eyes ahead; the boulder shielding the Hopper was still too far away to reach in time. But there was another boulder closer by, if he just turned a little – it would bring them even further away from the greater safety of the armed vehicle, but in this case there really was no choice.

    The hero took a turn.

    The metal-pede roared in frustration as the loose sand slowed its progress upwards.

    Daxter squirmed.

    Jak sucked in his breath and glanced down. He thought he could see small motions beneath the close eyelids – red lashes fluttered just the slightest. Lips parted around the protruding overbite and a pathetic groan escaped Daxter.

    Tightening the grip even more, Jak dove in behind the boulder. He crouched down until he sat on his knees, changing the grip to set Daxter in his lap, off the cool ground. Praying that his eco reserves were drained enough to make it hard for the beast to track them.

    Another groan, but it drowned in the frustrated screech of the monster finally reaching the top of the hill and finding its prey nowhere in sight.

“Uhh… wha-?”

    Daxter’s weak mumble was cut off by Jak’s hand clamping over his mouth. He squirmed for a second, panic spiking until he met the gaze set on him and recognized Jak. Then the redhead stared, blinking in confusion – despite the wooziness he obviously noted that something was glaringly odd, apart from the apparent proof of danger which was Jak muffling him. The fingers pressed to his face gave a small squeeze to underline the need for silence.

    That loud, monstery noise in the background didn’t sound too good either. Really not good. Daxter’s first question was what it was. The second was why they were hiding instead of the usual fare of Jak blasting everything threat-like to kingdom come.

    There could be no good answers to that. It was enough to make Daxter pinch his eyes shut and shuffle all other confusion into the back of his head. At the next crash he shuddered closer to Jak, instinctively aiming to take cover under the red scarf.

    His brain could not avoid confusion, however, when he first noticed that the scarf wasn’t there, and his hand somehow managed to curl over something that felt suspiciously much like the shoulder guard he could usually stand on.

    Jak bit his lip hard enough to almost draw blood. Worry for their safety clashed with the feel of having Daxter’s warm body so close.

    He wasn’t prepared for this. The only good thing was that at least Daxter hadn’t grabbed hold of his arm – feeling the unusual weight on the shoulder plate alone poked at the panic buried in his mind.

    The hard drumming of the metal-pede’s thrashes forced him back to reality and Jak swallowed hard to get a grip of himself. The monster furiously shrieked, then its feet clattered off in an echo – and began to soften, but still remain for a little while as a subdued, hollow rattle.

    It was going into one of its escape holes, maybe hoping that its prey would be stupid enough to start moving about and make noise as soon as the hunter was out of sight.

    Jak eased up just the slightest, enough to dare another glance at Daxter. What he saw were a pair of blue eyes wide open, staring at the hand placed on dull metal. Shaking, the hand slid off and was brought up for inspection. Fingers twitched, tested, the other hand came up.

    Daxter stared.

    Without thinking drawing in a sharp breath but Jak twisted his hand, pinching Daxter’s nose shut as well so that not even a squeak made it out. The redhead’s eyes shot wide open and he writhed, trying to breathe.

“The metal-pede!”

    Jak hissed it into his ear, easing his grip during the last word. Daxter froze, chest rising in one desperate gulp of air and then fluttering in quick, snapping breaths. Wide, blue eyes stared into Jak’s narrowed ones, trying to make sense.

    The tortured confusion was more than the blond could deal with and he shifted, hand sliding into Daxter’s hair as Jak pressed his friend closer, holding his dirty cheek to a clammy forehead. Only too late did he realize that half-choking his friend may have been overreacting, but he could not blame himself for trying to avoid risks.

    Daxter squirmed for a moment, then suddenly slumped. Alarmed, Jak shifted back to check that the redhead hadn’t passed out again. But the eyes were open, though the eyelids had sunk and a near-delirious smile was twitching in the corners of Daxter’s mouth.

    He blinked when Jak frowned, but the goofy look remained.

“Izza dream, isn’t it, babe?” Daxter whispered, slurring.

    Finding himself furless, naked and hugged by his butch best friend just might have touched a little too far out on the other side of his view of reality.

    Jak started to shake his head, when both their ears twitched at the sound of rocks crashing and rolling against each other after being flung into the air. Hundreds of huge claws furiously smashed into the ground, drumming it mercilessly as they tore forwards. Still at a distance, but from the sound of it the damn thing still had no plans on giving up the search.

    A hand clenched on Jak’s upper arm and he nearly jumped, a rush of panicked memories teetering on the edge of his mind – but the tightening of his own arms around Daxter’s body pulled him back before it crashed. He looked down, clenching his teeth. The delirious look was gone in a pang of doubt.

“It won’t even look at you,” Jak growled.

    Daxter still looked at him like he wasn’t sure whether or not to believe anything was real for the moment. However, he closed his mouth when Jak narrowed his eyes, pressing a big finger to his own tight lips. A small nod was the only reply the redhead managed to give.

    Not too gracefully Jak shuffled himself one way, Daxter the other – the redhead moved clumsily, like he was sleepwalking. It looked like his limbs were too heavy for him, which did not really surprise much. It was, however, disconcerting. Could he run if needed?

    Jak studied his friend almost fall over when trying to sit straight.

    No.

    A jaw already set in stone got even tighter.

    Without a word the hero produced his morph gun and hit the button for it to transform – a new flavor of unease presently settling in his stomach. He had always liked the powerhouse peace maker but now the sluggish, purple shine was disturbing. It had failed him not even an hour ago.

    The movement beside him had stopped. He turned to look, already knowing.

    Daxter stared at the familiar gun, teeth clamped down on his lower lip.

    In the background, the metal-pede raged on.

    Finally Jak shook his head, hand brushing Daxter’s shoulder as he stood up. This time it would be okay, and the silence promised it better than any of his words could have.

    Daxter pulled up, hugging his knees as his friend left him.

    Hands clenched the gun tightly as Jak moved forwards and cautiously looked around the side of the rock. The metal-pede raged about maybe fifty yards away, far too close for comfort. At least it was turned in another direction… and closer to where the Hopper was parked. Jak couldn’t see the car, but he could make out the other rock in the dim light.

    The most important thing was that he kept the huge beast from getting too close to Daxter. It wasn’t looking for two young men, but one man and one tiny pinprick of orange. However, it would probably not stop in surprise at the discovery of another snack.

    Jak set his jaw.

    When the metal-pede turned away he dashed from their hiding place, running across the cave floor away from both the monster and Daxter. Only when he felt that he was far enough from the one he had left behind, he squeezed the trigger of his gun. White-purple flared beside him and the metal head roared in triumph as it spotted its prey.

    It swung around, half the long body thrashing behind the rest as it struggled to completely turn.

    Jak stopped running, turned on his heel and raised the gun. Sparks angrily hissed and he had to squint against the intense light, painfully bright against the dusk. He would have wanted to push his goggles down, but there was no time for that.  

    The metal-pede stormed towards him. He pulled the trigger.

    Only too late did the stupid monster realize its mistake, but it had no chance to avoid the ball of pure energy crackling straight into its face. It reared up, screeching in agony as the flares dug into its armor, finding every way to tear at the thick skin and hard eyes. It thrashed and hit the ground again, roaring – injured, blinded and pissed off.

    Jak was already running again, only sparing a glance towards the rock where Daxter was still hiding. He could see no movement anywhere except for the huge shadow of the metal-pede. It gave him a brief respite, but he still could not be sure. If there were more metal heads in the cavern, he had no way of knowing – the fact that there had not been any other attackers did not feel like a safe piece of proof. Not when Erol may have orchestrated the whole thing as long as he was still here.

    Who was to say that the cyborg wasn’t still somewhere close?

    Jak gritted his teeth. The metal-pede was too noisy, he may not be able to hear Daxter scream.

    He had to kill that damn thing. Now. Without getting too far away from the friend who needed him. They’d leave here together, alive and safe.

    Hundreds of claws drummed behind him and he looked around. The metal-pede’s face was burnt black and it moved clumsier than before. The blast may have damaged its eyes. But it was still coming straight at him.

    He dashed closer towards the edge of the valley by the ravine, and sharply turned. The metal-pede tried to skid to a halt but its momentum and the loose sand sent it toppling down into the sink. Jak inwardly cursed at not having managed to get close enough to the ravine to send the monster down there instead, to join its companions. He had to make do.

    The monster tumbled over on its back, furiously thrashing as it tried to get back up. It wouldn’t take it too long to manage, but it gave Jak enough time to start charging up the now cooled peace maker again. By the time the metal-pede got back to its feet, he was prepared.

    It started up the slope, only to have another blast straight into its face – and at much closer proximity. The new screech was hoarse and the beast tumbled back down, twisting about in agony – completely blinded this time, the exoskeleton of its face cracking. Jak saw the slithering fractures as the last of the blast died away, dark eco bleeding through them and casting its non-light over the burnt insect face.

    He waved the peace maker about a little, trying to make it cool quicker. But the metal-pede was so dazed that when it finally managed to turn back towards him, Jak was ready to fire another shot.

    It did not screech or roar this time, it had no chance. The energy tore through the broken panzer of its face and ripped the metal-pede’s head apart. Dark eco exploded, thrown about in the violent death throes.

    Jak didn’t stay to watch, not even to refill his eco reserves. The moment he was sure that the metal head was beyond saving, he turned and dashed back towards the secluding rock, to Daxter.

    He almost fell around it, eyes locking on the redhead’s eyes immediately. Daxter had not moved, still sitting where he had been left behind, curled up and staring in the direction of the steps.

    Both of them lost all tension as they saw each other. Even with the crashes of the metal-pede’s throes in the background, grins of relief took over the young men’s faces.

    Daxter tried to stand up but staggered and fell back with an annoyed grunt.

“Hot damn, I weigh a ton!” he complained, rubbing his thigh – just below where the border of the scarf. “The heck were ya feeding me all this time, Jak?”

    The whine was so utterly Daxter that Jak could do nothing but smile. He glanced around one last time to be on the safe side, then returned the morph gun to its holster and hunched down beside his friend.

“You okay, Dax?”

“Naked, sore and freezing in the middle of a desert, thank you?” Daxter said.

    He was grinning now, but it suddenly dropped as his elbow knocked against his bare side.

    His gaze fell away and he moved his hand, pressing it against his stomach. The other hand rose slowly, shaking, to the side of his neck where a few hairs had been nicked by a razor sharp blade.

    A bigger hand came into view and he jumped, ripping his gaze back to Jak. There was no smile now, but the big hand moved to the bare side of the thin neck and rested against it. Eyebrows drawn low, Jak made a shield against the remaining chill of the remembered edges.

    For a second they just watched each other, Jak grim and Daxter uneasy, looking at his friend with some confusion. Soon enough however, the blond shook himself out of it. He moved his hand down and around Daxter’s shoulders, helping the redhead get to his feet. A warm arm clumsily rose up and snaked around his neck – Jak clamped down his teeth, instinctual panic at the touch bubbling in the back of his mind and mixing into a painful brew with wonder at feeling Daxter un-furry and close. Until now, he had been the one carrying an unconscious body, but Daxter moved on his own now, watching Jak intently.

    An annoyed blush darkened the freckled face when the scarf dangerously slipped. Daxter fumbled for it with his free hand, catching the sagging cloth.

“Holy crap…” he muttered, voice higher than usual.

    He looked up, scowling in suspicion of Jak watching that undignified display. But the blond had pointedly avoided it, eyes set to meet Daxter’s the moment the exasperated face turned the right way. The redhead visibly relaxed a little at that.

“I think there’s a blanket in the Hopper,” Jak said.

“There better be, or I’ll make you skin a seat,” Daxter replied.

    They started towards the car, Jak keeping a lookout for any potential threat every step of the way. But even the metal-pede had finally stopped moving, and all was silent apart from the wind and their steps.

    Daxter moved as quick as he could, but his suddenly returned body obviously caused him a lot more trouble than the first transformation had. It made sense; last time he had grown a whole lot lighter. To him it really must feel like he weighed a ton.

    The fact that he had to try and hold the scarf didn’t help either. So he stumbled along, supported by his best friend and crouching under his own weight. Despite this he took in a deep breath after a few steps.  

“Well, you’re obviously taking me home with you no matter what decides to get in the way,” he said. “Good to know.”

    Jak sacrificed a moment of safeguard to half-smile at Daxter, letting him know that the attempt to lighten up the mood was appreciated. The gesture was returned with a weak grin.

“Don’t I always?” Jak said.

    Daxter’s grin widened.

“Yeah, big guy, I’ve noted that’s one of them quirks you’ve got going.”

    That definitely made it safe enough to pull at Daxter for a brief, playful squeeze. The protest at the stumble this caused was simply attacked by an amused smirk.

    They made it to the Hopper without any further trouble. Jak helped Daxter climb into the passenger seat, taking care not to make it more embarrassing than it obviously already was for the redhead. The blond lifted his friend up by his arms and let him fall over on the seat by himself. That done Jak quickly stepped down on the ground and made his way around to get into the driver’s seat. But before he sat down he reached for the back of the car, to the small expanse of floor behind the seats.

    A brown blanket made out of rough cloth met his fumbling hand and was pulled out, to great relief for both of them – though for rather different reasons. Jak threw the cloth over Daxter and sat back, starting the engine while the passenger wrestled with himself to get wrapped up.

    Jak drove out from the hiding place and around the rock, turning the Hopper towards where he recalled the exit to be. Because Daxter kept having troubles with getting “dressed”, it was a rather silent ride through the cavern – save the grumbles and half curses of course.

    It was when they entered the tunnel leading out that there was an “Uhm…” on Jak’s right side. He glanced, seeing Daxter sitting with the blanket around him up to his armpits. In his lap laid the scarf, held in a loose grip.

    He held up the red cloth.

“Thanks for letting me borrow this, man.”

    There was little else to do in reply to that than snort and point to the back of the car with a thumb. Daxter dropped the scarf where the blanket had been laying, awkwardness faltering as Jak chuckled. Grinning, the passenger rubbed the back of his head.

    Up ahead the darkness parted for sunlight, the welcoming glow speeding closer and growing more intense by the second.

“Hang on,” Jak said and pushed down the button to make the Hopper crouch for the leap.

    They soared across the hole blocking the way in and out of the cave. The car touched down with a metallic slap and groan, but past that they skidded out and down the slope of sand into the hot blast of sunlight.

    Jak let the Hopper slide along as gravity demanded, there was little that they could crash into right there. Letting the focus off the area around them he looked at Daxter again. The redhead still clutched the sides of his seat, a rather confused look on his face. He turned to see askance in Jak’s eyes.

    The hands let go and Daxter straightened up, chuckling with a  mix of embarrassment and pure elation.

“Still used to being sent flying by your jumping acts,” he said. “You’ll hafta find some other way to rattle me now.”

    His smirk almost split his face, even more when Jak lightly slapped at the top of his red head without any intention of really hitting. Daxter still ducked away from it, laughing.

    Amused and relived to the core, Jak tramped on the clutch and gas pedal, sending the Hopper back into motion. They sped across the desert, but Jak didn’t head for Spargus right away. He did not want to wait for the entire ride back there to finally get a chance to stop and look at Daxter for a moment in peace. Out in the open under the blazing desert sun, sitting ducks for anything out for a kill, was not a good place for it either.

    The nearest lean-to was the tunnels beneath the great volcano mountain range. More caves did not sound very much inviting either when it got down to it, but at least those were kept clean of metal heads and the marauders avoided getting into them with their clunky vehicles. The bandits were easy enough to pluck down outside with better equipment; in the tunnels the rogues could not use their normal tactic of simply coming from too many angles to fight off.

    There was another reason to camp out for a little while. Even though it was a long drive back to Spargus, there was something else that needed a bit more time than that – it took longer to get to Haven from Spargus than to get to the sand city from the middle of the desert. Specifically, time that the air train needed from being called to actually arriving and being ready to bring the two youngsters to the questionable safety of Haven. But it would definitely be safer for Daxter. The first moment he took a step inside Spargus would be the moment he was in demand for the next arena fight. There was no way he could manage to survive that.

    Jak hardly thought about this more than on a subconscious level yet, he didn’t want to ponder such things. All of him which wasn’t concentrating on driving, was set on listening to Daxter.

“I can’t wait to see their faces when we get back. Oh man, the look on Pecker’s face!”

    A mildly deranged snerk was born from the last comment. Jak had to chuckle too, shaking his head. It struck him as Daxter went on and on, that something was different from usual. The same voice and tone, nothing wrong there. But he spoke slower.

    Now that Jak thought about it for a moment, he recalled being perplexed at the speed Daxter had picked up in his rants post-eco bath. So much in fact, that it had been difficult sometimes, at first, to make out what the little rat was going on about when he really got going.  

“And the revered mister Sour cream Tattoo… hey, I’m taller than Samos again! Oh man, and Tess…”

    Jak squeezed the wheel. He had been prepared for the blonde lady’s name to come up, even if he had not been aware of it. But Daxter went on in his rant, recounting friend after friend past his “Tessy-poo”. Everyone except the one who sat beside him. But the big, blue eyes were locked on the face of the driver, the best friend, the guy who took in every word even though the route demanded the attention of his sight most of the time.

“… wonder what Keira’s gonna say. And on that subject again, I hope Samos’ eyes’ll pop outta his lil’ green skull. Not to forget Ashelin and Sig. Hah! And none of the new peeps even believed us when we told ‘em I wasn’t always fuzzy! Well the man’s shed the fur now…?”

    His rambles faltered, a pang of confusion creeping into his last words. Jak heard the frown before he saw it, but he still glanced his question.

    Daxter scratched his head, watching Jak with an uncertain spark in his eyes.

“Uhm… how did I get back, anyway?” he asked. “It’s… kinda blurry.”

    Bad memories crashed down, visible in both their eyes. Jak clenched his teeth and forced them aside – later, later…

    Instead, he focused on what was alright. Explained the white eco that had made its way out from underground, onto the plateau. As he talked he felt sympathy from Daxter’s disbelieving gaze. Such luck, was it luck? It was enough to make a guy religious.

    But he finished the explanation anyway, and then waited for a comment. Hoping that it would keep the memories at bay – surely Daxter would prefer it that way too.

    However, with so much to question about the string of events that had resulted in his return to un-furriness, Daxter’s brain tried to start sorting it out from the beginning.  

“Hang, hang on, wait… I fell in there because- I’m back thanks t-”

    He snapped his mouth shut at the look on Jak’s face.

    Yeah. There really was no need to finish that line of thought.

    Ever.

    But the lid had been opened, and now the memory of what had happened inside the cavern, in the valley, by the ravine, in Erol’s control, all of it laid bare and open to both of them.

    An awkward silence fell, Daxter biting his lip. It was so apparent that he wanted to ask about why, beg for a reason for actions that should not have been possible for his best friend to go through with. But he could look at Jak now and already know that there would be a numb little smile and a headshake, and not a word anyone could hear. Only that look in Jak’s eyes saying that he would do it again, and again – and let whatever happen, even if he may claim that he never really would let Erol or anybody else take him down without a fight.

    Jak already looked serious enough, lips pressed together and eyes tight. So grim that Daxter’s mind reeled back at least ten years, what felt like three lifetimes ago, when there were green grass and white sand and warm waves lapping at both their small feet.

    Running down the beach hollering and laughing – Daxter the only loud one but Jak just behind him, just as excited but silent. Armed with sticks that in their minds were swords, attacking drift wood and ocean smoothed rocks that figured as monsters and dragons. Children not yet knowing real danger.

    And then him climbing onto one of the bigger rocks after they had “slain” it, proudly declaring that they were brothers in arms and nothing could ever defeat them because they would die for each other.

    He had laughed then, at the way Jak’s round little face gazed up at him, triumphant grin gone in sudden seriousness. Like he took it as a sincere vow – the fantasy world broke down for Daxter in that moment, because it was too funny to see his friend taking the statement with such gravity.

    But that serious expression was grown up and real now.

    Daxter gulped, looking out at the sand around them in the search for some way to repair the situation. He didn’t want to think about it. He’d have to eventually, but not now. Not yet.

    The godawful amount of sand offered no ideas. He looked around again, finding Jak’s gaze shifting from the area ahead of them and back to him quickly. Desperately, Daxter threw his mental net deeper into his own mind. And in his rush to keep away from everything that had happened back in the cave, he stumbled upon a detail that had been about to surface before he sent everything awry by almost crediting Erol for doing something good.

    He was in no position to be choosy.

“Uhm, wait,” he started, holding up his left hand and touching the fingertips with his right pointing finger as if trying to calculate something. “I don’t remember. How did I get back up there after I fell?”

    He saw Jak stiffen a bit at first, and cursed inwardly. But just as suddenly the tight face relaxed and the numb smile deepened. Daxter raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t see,” Jak said, looking ahead. “I guess the white eco spat you out like the dark did back then.”

“Uhuh, yeah. Real nice of it, wish it’d given me my pants back though… what?”

    The smile looked odder than he had thought, but Daxter saw it when Jak looked at him. It wasn’t anything he had not seen before, but definitely of the near extinct kind. Still, Daxter’s heart jumped when he recognized it, though he could not at first recall why he was entitled to that smile.

“Thanks for the save,” Jak said.

    Daxter couldn’t remember when he last had heard that voice so soft, and he was left blinking even while a warm, fuzzy feeling of pride settled in his gut.

“… uh?”

    The tension shattered when Jak gave a silent chuckle. When he spoke again however, he had sobered – still smiling in the same way, but the words demanded more sincerity.

“When you pulled his leg,” he clarified.

    Neither of them had been fully aware how far they had come, and Jak probably should have been more conscious of it. Still, in the brief silence that followed, the Hopper rolled inside the mountain tunnels. Jak pushed down the brake and they came to a halt still within reach of the sunlight.

    Daxter was blinking.

    He could recall movement and blurred colors, a rush of panic – everything confused and disjointed like a dream, unable to make sense in his jumbled mind. He had an image of seeing Jak not being Jak and that cold metal thing calling itself a person when it was a monster, freak, freak freak, dared to call Jak a freak dared to smile and it was going to kill him- and Daxter was still moving and got within reach, brain far from clear enough to piece a proper thought together but he knew he had to do something against that painful light.

    So he pulled the bastard’s leg. But then his arm hurt and Jak took the thing away and he fell back. After that, things started to make sense again, when the screeched and sharp sounds jolted him back to the real world. Just in time to see Erol take the coward-trek and fly off.

    Daxter blinked again, and did a double take. He retraced the confusing bit and set them up to actually make some sense, past the panic. Added what Jak said.

    That warm fuzzy feeling grew three times its size.

“Heeey!”

    He had to let out that howl, to get a chance to get his bearings straight. Because, golly, that realization and the look on Jak’s face had him practically floored.

    But only for a moment, of course. Then his palm collided with Jak’s in a light high-five and he was cackling.

“Perfect save by yours truly! Ha! You owe me a drink, man.”

    Totally disregarding the fact that Jak always paid for their drinks. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered for a moment, except the fact that they were both safe and sound, anybody wanting to hurt them sent running by a joint effort.

    You saved me. You saved me.

    Jak sat back and just watched, trying to take it in again. And for the first time, out of the cave’s dusk and in enough calm to allow him to actually look closer, he got a proper look. The red hair and the freckles, skin pale in compare to the tanned hand that had clashed into his in a playful slap. Protruding front teeth shaping the laughter, as contagious as ever. The same as the ottsel’s, but stronger and finally completely Daxter again.

    But it wasn’t exactly as he remembered. Little details in cheekbone and smile, more angular, less rounded. Daxter wasn’t fourteen anymore, he was seventeen, almost eighteen. Not a kid – but Jak knew from own experience, and he smirked a bit wider at it for once; both of them would still be called kids even when they were young men.

    That didn’t matter either.

    All Daxter, alive, returned to what he used to be but grown. Laughing, eyes shining with delight.

    Beautiful.

    It may have been lucky, for the way Jak’s arms wanted to reach out and enclose his friend, press him to his chest and hold him close – lucky for that moment, that all such wishes were derailed, for it may have destroyed the laughter for a longer time. What did happen stopped the laughter, but it was easier to mend. Whichever the case, luck or not luck, it was not pleasant.

    Because in the light, with peace, Jak saw things that he hadn’t been able to notice before. When his gaze traveled down just a little bit, his smile froze.

    There was a line of scars around Daxter’s left shoulder – a crescent of round bumps, more pink than the rest of his skin.

    Something had bitten him. Something big too, by the look of it.

“What’s that?”

    Jak frowned as he reached out and thumbed the offending marks. The warm skin slid under his fingers as Daxter moved, rolling his shoulder in an attempt to get it within sight. Red eyebrows jumped around on their forehead as the eyes beneath them squinted.

“Huh?” Daxter muttered.

    It took him another second to realize what it was, and then he stiffened immediately.

“Ah, nothing!”

    He shrugged Jak’s hand off, clapping his own fingers over the shoulder. Teeth coming down on his lower lip he looked away, the hard swallow very much visible. After a tense moment he took in a deep breath and started off with what he did best. Chattering.

“I’d totally forgotten about this one. Sheez. Now don’t go into mommy-mode on me, bud.”

    He lifted his hand a little, taking another look. The hand went back down with a low thump.

“Man, they must’ve grown with me. It was just some slum rat thinking I was a fuzzy piece of cheese.”

    Jak only clenched his teeth harder.

“Dax-”

    The redhead snapped his head at the blond suddenly, shaking it with a half annoyed, half pleading look.

“Oh come on, don’t stop the music. I was feeling good here, so guilt trips aren’t allowed!” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “It’s not like it hurts anymore. Besides you couldn’t have done anything, you weren’t there-”

    He stopped dead, pinching his eyes shut. It didn’t help, he could still feel Jak stiffen.

    The words were heavy in the air, with everything they meant and reminded the two men of.

    Daxter shrunk back, melting down into his seat as his hand slipped from the shoulder and hooked at the side of his stomach instead. His fingertips pushed into the cloth, massaging it against his skin while he chewed on his lower lip, glancing at Jak from the corner of his eye. Could still feel it, and knew that Jak saw that he still felt it – the huge, cold fingers clenching around his tiny body, making it impossible to breathe, to do anything but tremble.

    It was far too close still, and behind it were memories of months upon months of loneliness, lost in a new world that hated them both.

“I, ah… I haven’t gotten… well, yeah, I got one more since then but…” Daxter finally said, faltering. He fell silent, then set his jaw. Forcing himself to turn his head he tried to smile. “Your mommy-syndrome’s been payin’ off for a while.”

    He fidgeted with the blanket, dropping his gaze to his lap.

    For a minute there was a silent struggle of wills until Daxter gave up and dared a glance. Jak’s eyes nailed him to his spot, clenching the bony hands in the blanket. He shrunk further back, even though Jak did not move.

    The blond’s face was tight, mouth thin – unlike the eyes. There was something wild in them, a masochistic demand for knowledge.

“Uhm…”

    Daxter struggled for another moment. In the end however, he let out a sigh.

“Seriously…”

    It was supposed to be annoyed, but he failed to make it so. Sitting up straight he lifted his – suddenly so very heavy, making him wonder if it had always been like that – left leg and set the foot on his seat. The blanket still shielded him at first, but the brown covering fell aside with a light pull and pale skin emerged. Daxter anxiously peered at it, then turned to Jak with the same look in his eyes when he found that the marks were indeed there – and as bad as he had assumed after seeing what had become of his shoulder scars.

“Oh come on, you know that… leaper lizard throwing me off?” Daxter pleaded. “Remember?”

    Jak did remember, his eyebrows tightening.

    The stupid animals were normally quite gentle, even when wild, and Daxter had managed them fairly well the first couple of times the two of them were sent to the ruins to catch more mounts. Easy work that could earn even Daxter some recognition was a welcome change of pace once in a while, but…

    Small orange body shooting forwards, slapping onto the back of one of the lizards. Twig-arms squeezing the neck, ready to force the beast through the twists and turns to the cage… but this one doesn’t run.

    It jumps, swings around and throws its neck.

“HEY whoa!”

    The tiny body looses its foothold, sweeps like a wet rag clinging to the dry scales-

“Dax!”

    Brakes screech, wheels tearing into the sand but its too late, too late. Before boots even touch the ground there’s another kind of screech and a speck of orange flies, a sharp arch, crashes in a patch of cacti.

    The lizard flees.

    He doesn’t care.

    Meaty plants crushed beneath his boots as he rushes towards the skeletal form in the green. It lies brokenly, limbs hung over several cacti. Small hand reaches up, blue shimmering through slit eyelids, a whine.

    Alive.

    But pain so terrifyingly apparent.

    Knees crush thick branches, ignore the sting of needles. Big hands reach down, thumb brushing the tiny hand.

    I’m here, I’m here, don’t worry…

    Fingers wedge beneath small back carefully, nudging lightly to check how it hurts before lifting. Small groans from moving the limp arm, pricks of crimson. A weak cry and Daxter arches in agony at the slightest push at his left leg.

    Two needles pierce the fur and skin, dug into the tiny calf.

    Jak never did figure out if he managed to catch that particular lizard, which was very lucky for the damn thing. Even luckier now.

    What had been pinpricks of painful yet small needles, hidden beneath the fur, now looked more like marks from a pair of spears. It got a whole new meaning, put the entire accident into Daxter’s point of view in a way Jak had not fully grasped before. It churned his stomach, but the blond also felt a renewed surprise – after what had happened he had not believed that Daxter would ever want to try catching anymore lizards. But the ottsel had, more furiously than ever. Refusing to give up something that he was actually better at than many others.

    Despite the unease, a speck of pride fluttered for the redhead.

    Jak straightened up.

“Is that it, Dax?”

    There was a distinct underlying hope in that tone, mixed with tension.

“Uhm…”

    The hope died.

    Daxter looked away, fingers drumming against the cloth covering his legs.

“I think there maaaybe something more, but it’s not so bad. Really, it can’t have been more than a scratch. You don’t wanna see. Really, Jak…”

    He turned back, blue eyes pleading.

“… y-you don’t wanna do this.”

    What was frightening was that this was the kind of thing that Daxter should flaunt – battle scars to wear as proof of his own bravery in the past. Make up stories to make Tess coo for him.

    But he didn’t.

    He knew Jak wouldn’t coo. Jak didn’t think about the bravery, not when there hadn’t been any – he had enough scars for at least ten people and he’d rather face off with the entire metal head nest again than show them to anyone.

    Jak thought about the pain. That he should have been there to prevent it, either by crushing anything that tried to hurt his small best friend, or-

    Daxter’s stomach rolled, hands clenching in the blanket until they shook.

    … or say “take me instead”. A small part of Daxter was still praying that he had just been dreaming the whole thing. Jak should never have done anything like that. Not for anyone.

    Jak was the guy who risked everything for those he cared about. Not… sold himself.

    Daxter tried not to meet the eyes watching him, knowing how they would look – stern and angry. But really, when you knew Jak well enough… it wasn’t anger. It just tipped over when he got so worried he didn’t know what to do with himself, that stuff that made him pick up his gun and go kill the closest thing that looked like a danger.

    There was nothing he could shoot in this situation to make it better.

“Dax.”

    He looked up because Jak didn’t sound angry.

    That haggard look was worse than anything Daxter had expected.

    Jak was gripping the wheel so hard the muscles on his entire arm bulged. It clashed with the parted lips and the heavy eyes.

    Saying perfectly well that, “no, I don’t wanna do this. But I need to.” Didn’t need to do anything to bring Daxter’s thoughts to the moment he saw Jak’s scars for the first time.

    He wanted to talk Jak out of it, but that attempt had already failed.

    Daxter crumbled.  

“Oh sh-sheez, fine. Just stop the guilt tripping, d-dammit, okay?”

    He grabbed the blanket and tried to turn on his seat, turning clumsy both because of the cloth getting in the way and being insecure in his new-old body – feeling Jak’s tension raise in sync with his own for every stumble. A big hand landed on his shoulder and steadied him; he’d rather the movement had taken longer, at the same time as he was half-relieved to get the awkward motions over with. But once he sat with his back to Jak, the only thing he could do to remain was to gulp and pray there was nothing to see, no matter how stupid that would make him look. He’d prefer that.

“Well, uh, I really don’t think there’s anything,” he started, “so just- just…”

    He faltered, biting his lip as he let the blanket drop. The cloth silently slid down his back.