Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Haven City changed the moment the King attacked Praxis.

No one knew what happened preceding the incident. No one knew why it had happened. Only that there was no going back. One minute the world was peaceful and quiet. The next, hell had broken loose.

The people had rebelled. Those who had feared and hated the Eco Channelers from the very beginning seized the opportunity for war– and it only grew from there.

The loop of the King attacking his Advisor played on repeat, on every screen littering the City, for a week. Praxis’ voice shouted from the speakers: “Turn in the filthy Channelers. Our King has betrayed us! Protect your City from these vile freaks!”

-/-

Daxter blinked, abruptly brought back to the present. He stared down at his notebook, full of nonsensical doodles and scribbles.

Tapping his pen against the paper, he glanced up at Sig and decided now was a good time to focus, before he got called out for daydreaming - again.

“-a fool willing to go outside the walls to fish. The Cannery freezes and stores the meat, which is why it needs the extra security.”

Dax nodded solemnly and bent down to draw a lopsided stick-fish in his notes.

“The most important, however, is the Gardens.” Sig touched the electronic screen, zooming out from the Port onto a simplistic map of Haven City. Tapping again, this time near the Bazaar, the class now stared at an aerial shot of the Gardens.

“Fortunately, if anything were to happen to the Gardens, the City has a seed of every plant stored away. That information is classified, however.”

Someone sitting near the back of the classroom sighed.

Dax zoned out slightly as Sig rambled about agriculture and how important it was to preserve the vegetation and farm animals that lived in that sector. It still baffled him that the Baron wholeheartedly believed that yakows deserved more care and attention than the orphans that suffered on the streets. 

He rolled his eyes and scribbled onto his paper: Can’t grow big and strong without our fruits and veggies! Please be willing to throw down ur life for this. Thank you. :)

Smirking, he glanced at his fellow classmates and wondered what they were writing down with such serious looks on their faces.

“Daxter!”

Dax flinched, nearly throwing his pen across the room. “What?”

“Are you paying attention?” Sig’s gaze narrowed, his red optic eye shining brightly.

“I’m writin’ notes!”

“With that smirk on your face? Bullshit.”

Busted.

Dax neatly folded his hands on the desk and grinned. “I was just thinkin’ of somethin’ really funny, that’s all Siggy! You know how my thoughts are all jumbled up in this noggin?”

Sig grunted. “Well then. You can share them all with me after class.”

Great. Just great.

He heard snickering, and when he turned in his seat to glare, he was of course met with a bunch of poker-faced cowards. Dax huffed and slumped down into his seat. Sig was right, he hadn’t bothered writing notes. There was no point in suddenly acting like he was now. 

He glanced surreptitiously at Keira. Her lips were pressed together tightly. Her leg was also twitching, bouncing up and down in an agitated manner. Glancing down at her tablet, he wasn’t surprised to see the small screen full of text. With a smirk, he made a show of leaning towards her. “Neeerd.”

The grimace on her face deepened, and she firmly ignored him. Oh well. Dax vaguely remembered her telling him once how irritating it was when class had to halt due to his shenanigans. 

As if it were his fault that Sig liked to target him in particular. Daxter just didn’t feel the need to waste time and resources writing notes for something he already knew. His eyes drifted to the clock hanging on the wall. Only five more minutes. He could handle that. 

“Chili pepper,” Sig tapped on the screen, not bothering to turn around. “You better be markin’ this down.”

“Oh, absolutely!” Dax straightened and slammed his pen down onto his notebook with unnecessary force. He could practically hear Keira’s teeth grind, and felt a burst of satisfaction.

Time seemed to drag on by the minute. Sig babbled on about common knowledge, just with a few added details the public didn’t know. This sector has that. That sector has this. Blah, blah, blah.

At least class was different everyday. They were only required to attend twice a week. One day would focus on knowledge and crucial details. The next they would train for battle - either the gun course or hand-to-hand combat. 

When the buzzer rang, Daxter felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. Freedom!

“Do not forget about community service this weekend!” Sig hollered. “Check the tablet to see your duties!”

The sound of books shuffling, and chairs scraping across the floor filled the air. Daxter glanced at Keira as she cleaned up. “Uh, hey, Keira? I have somethin’ to ask you.”

“Hm?” Green doe eyes met his.

He leaned in with a completely straight face. “I totally forgot to take notes. Can I copy yers?”

Keira’s expression instantly darkened. She glared at him bitterly, and silently packed the rest of her things. 

Daxter watched her leave, snickering to himself. Pressing her buttons never got old. She should really learn to stop playing into his hand. 

Like the rest of the students, he stopped by the tablet hanging near the door. It showed a list of all their names, matched with the assignment they would have to do. The assignment itself was randomly generated by the computer. Daxter had done every single one so far, and definitely had his preferences.

His eyes scanned the electronic screen.

Daxter …… Border Patrol

He immediately groaned. Dammit, his feet were gonna hurt!

Sig was seated at his desk. If Dax could just walk out without being noticed then-

“Hey. Get your skinny ass over here.” 

Daxter winced and obediently shuffled to his desk. He knew better than to ignore Sig. He had tried it once. Sig was a big man, and there was nothing more shit-your-pants terrifying than the sight of him sprinting down the hallway towards you, even with his prosthetic leg. 

The classroom was empty.

Sig simply held his hand out. “C’mon. Give it.”

Hands tightening defensively on his bag strap, Dax gritted his teeth. “C’mon big guy, are ya really gonna waste yer time with this?”

“Yeah. It’s kinda my job.” Sig glared at him, brows lowering over his eyes. “Give it.” 

Reluctantly, Daxter handed over his notebook. Crossing his arms, he glared out the windows. Well, the windows weren’t technically real. They were screens. Sig could pick and choose what he wanted the screens to show to the class. Today the projection was vibrant, green shrubbery and trees. All to cover up the gray, bleak outside world of Haven City. 

With a sigh, Sig snapped the book close. He rubbed at his forehead. Daxter held his breath. 

“Do I need to show this to your brother?”

Paling, Daxter lunged forward to snatch his notebook back, but Sig was faster. “No! No, Precursors sake, no!”

They grappled for a bit as he futilely tried to get his hands on the book, before Sig finally pushed him gently, but firmly, away with one hand. “Torn busted his ass gettin’ you in here again. Don’t you think this is a spit in the face?” He waved the book pointedly.

“I’m not gonna write notes on shit I already know!” Daxter snapped venomously. “I passed all my tests last year, didn’t I? Let it go, man!”

Sig’s hand clenched on his notebook. For a split, frightening moment Dax thought Sig would destroy it in retribution. The moment ended. Sig handed the book back with a sigh. Anger instantly vanished from both of them. 

Shit. He had really just snapped at his teacher? Sure, he knew Sig better than the rest of the students, but they weren’t even remotely friends.  

“Sorry - uh, sir.” Dax bit his lip.

“Listen, kid. I’ll let you write whatever bullshit notes you want, on one condition.” Sig pointed at him sternly, and Daxter instinctively registered it as a big brotherly gesture. “You show Torn the notebook yourself, or I will.”

Daxter gulped and hastily nodded. “Okay, okay. Geez.” 

Sig nodded, apparently pacified. “Good. Now get the hell out of my classroom.”

This time, Daxter saluted and grinned hugely. “Sir, yes sir!” He ignored the warning glare and quickly rushed for the exit. 

Before turning the corner, Dax took one last look at his teacher. 

Sig appeared wary and tired, isolated in the empty room. The expression on his face twisted unpleasantly, as he bent down to massage his leg. Dax couldn’t help but stare at the dark KG tattoos marking his face.

Unwilling to call Sig on his bluff, Dax stopped by Torn’s office on his way out of the building. It wasn’t inconvenient after all, since he was heading in that direction anyway.

"Messy as ever," Dax commented as soon as he opened the door.

Torn paused from typing at his computer and glanced up. "What's the problem now?"

"Problem? Like I can't visit my favorite big brother in the world?" Skipping on sitting in one of the office chairs, he instead propped his elbows on the desk and fluttered his eyelashes.

"Watch it," Torn snapped and nudged Daxter's elbows away. Backing off, Dax sheepishly watched Torn rearrange the papers back into their former place. They weren't at all organized, causing Dax to wonder why Torn bothered to make an issue of it. 

"Seriously. I'm busy. What do you want?"

Daxter rolled his eyes and dug into his messenger bag. He purposely threw his notebook onto the desk as roughly as possible. There. Watch the prick rearrange that .

Torn merely quirked his brow.

"Sig wants you to take a look."

No sooner had the words left his mouth that Torn was flipping through the pages. It only took a second, tops, for those sharp eyes to see his senseless drabbles. He simply pushed the notebook back. Without another word, he went back to his computer.

Stomach dropping, Dax wordlessly put it away. The silence, the lack of reaction, felt worse somehow. Clenching his fists, he asked, "Got nothin' to say?"

"What do you want me to say?" Torn's lip curled in irritation. "I can't force you to do anything."

"Sure doesn't feel that way," Daxter mumbled sardonically.

"If you want to fail the course again that's your choice." Torn waved his hand in obvious dismissal. "The Baron won't give you another chance."

The words struck him right where it hurt the most, leaving him defenseless. Head dipped low, Dax saw himself out. 

-/-

Slamming the front door to his house shut with unnecessary force, Daxter made a beeline for the kitchen.

“Hey! Watch it!” Tess’ voice echoed from deeper inside the house. 

Daxter ignored her and flung open a cabinet where they stored the snacks and began shoving various bags of junk food and granola bars into his bag. 

“Hi, Daxxie.” Her voice was closer this time, and significantly brighter.

“Hiya, Tessie.” Dax turned around.

His sister stood in the door frame leading to the hallway. She held a hairbrush in one hand. Her hair was damp, turning light blonde to deep gold. Obviously she had just jumped out of the shower. The scent of her strawberry soap was strong.

Every time, without fail, Daxter’s eyes landed on her KG tattoos before anything else. Everything about Tess was just so… light. Her pale skin, sky-blue eyes and platinum blonde hair. The tattoos on her face stood out too much, like they had used an ink shade darker than intended.

She paused in brushing her hair. Her smile immediately fell with sympathy. “Oooh. Bad day?”

“Sig is such an asshole!” Dax immediately began ranting. “He thinks it’s fuckin’ hilarious or somethin’ to stop class just to humiliate me! Total fuckin’ power trip. And Torn refuses to pull the stick outta his ass and give a crap about anythin’! Like, forget giving me a pep talk, the dude can’t even yell at me, or lecture me, or anythin’!”

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down, baby.” She shot the clock a glance and bit her lip. “I have enough time, if you wanna sit down and talk about it?”

He waved her off. “Nah, it’s nothin’. Don’t be late for patrol. The Baron might not give you another chance.” His voice deepened with bitterness.

Tess sighed and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Sig and Torn care about you, Daxxie.”

Dax rolled his eyes. “Quit it, yer gonna make me puke.”

“No, you quit it. They want you to succeed, because they know you have potential. I guess they just… don’t go about it the best way.”

He placed his hand over hers, soaking in the warmth. “Yeah? And what do you think?”

Tess smiled affectionately. “I’ll always be your cheerleader, you know that. No matter what you choose, I’ll support you. Personally, I think you’d make a great Krimzon Guard. With you on our side, we’d win this war in, like, five minutes.” She laughed, hand tightening on his shoulder.

Daxter’s lips twitched mirthlessly.

“If you graduate this year, I’ll take you out to a big, fancy dinner. Chocolate cake and everything. But, if you drop out again, I’ll do the exact same thing.” Tess winked then leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. “I just want you to be happy, that’s all.”

He sighed. “Yeah? Shoot, me too.”

Tess giggled and released him. She lingered in the hallway, and messed with her hair again.

Dax turned, ready to go down into the basement. He hesitated in the doorway, feeling marginally guilty for unloading his problems onto her before she had to go to work. “Hey! Want help puttin’ yer armor on?”

She paused from twisting her hair into a bun to smile at him. “You’re a sweetheart, but no.”

Satisfied with that, Dax grinned back and descended down the stairs, to his room.

Technically, he used to have a bedroom, but it had quickly been turned into a storage room. Tess and Torn stored their KG armor, weapons, and important paperwork there. Dax had nothing to do with it.

Instead, he had taken advantage of the basement. It was clean, dry, and even had a half bathroom. The washer and dryer prevented him from having complete privacy, but they developed a system so that no one just barged downstairs unexpectedly. 

The washer and dryer were under the stairs. There were two doorways in front of him. One that led to the small bathroom, and the other to his room.

The bedroom wasn’t fancy by any means. It was just a bit claustrophobic and dirty. On one side, he had a futon. On the other side was his desk. That was it. Sure, he had hung up some posters, but nothing could really defeat that basement feel. 

Robotically, Daxter crashed into his chair and turned on the desk lamp. He dumped everything from his bag onto his desk. Then bent down to the mini fridge to grab a bottle of beer.  

After a minute of shuffling everything around, he finally had a pencil in hand and a packet of homework glaring up at him.

Notes were one thing but schoolwork was another. 

Cheek cupped in his palm, he slumped over his desk and stared blankly at the jumbled mess of words sitting in the golden waning light from his lamp. 

Idly, his eyes drifted to where his name, ID number, and date marked the top of the page.

He blinked, once. Twice. He read his name, over and over. Slowly, he lifted his pencil.

Leaning back, he stared at what he’d written and frowned.

Daxter - No.1 Krimzon Guard

Chapter Text

Haven City changed the moment the King attacked Praxis - or so Dax was taught. 

After all, he had only been a child when the war broke out. Not to mention the immense trauma he faced in such a condensed time for his age. He was bound to forget his previous life.

But, not every memory was lost.

One mundane day, things just suddenly changed. 

He decided to sit down and watch the news with his parents. Nothing stood out of the ordinary. The screen showed a lot of people being arrested. Crowds holding up signs. The newscaster had a lot to say about the King that Daxter didn’t really care to listen to.

Eventually, there were cameras surrounding the Haven hospital, talking about a man he had never seen before. “The King’s Advisor,” his mom explained curtly. “He was hurt - very badly.”

“People are hurt everyday!” said Dax. “Look, I got a scab on my knee, see?”

Months later, while Dax was coloring on the living room floor, he happened to glance up at the TV and witnessed many guards escorting the King away. But screams rang out as he easily broke free and made a run for it.

After that, yeah, things went from bad to worse. He hadn’t known that it was the official start of the war. Hadn’t known anything, really, all while he shivered in his parents bed, listening to what sounded like constant booming thunderstorms outside.

Children began to be taken from their homes - Daxter included.

It was fuzzy to recall, because it had been so frantic and horrifying. The Guards had shoved needles into their arms to make the entire limb go numb. They then tattooed a barcode on their wrists. Made them stand in line in a cold, metal room.

One by one they were brought into a second room, practically the size of a closet, and were ordered to stick their hands into a container of what looked like blue jello. 

Hand trembling, he hesitated, before his hand was forcefully shoved into it. It burned, like racing fire up his arm. For a heartbeat he couldn't pull away, as if he were being electrocuted. When he managed to stumble away, the goo slid off of him, like oil on water, and drifted back into the container.

"Clear," the Guard called and escorted him out. They scanned his barcode before they piled him into a cargo zoomer, packed to the brim with other children of all ages.

Dax whimpered the entire time, roughly dragging his sleeve under his nose until it chafed. The barcode on his wrist burned. All their pleas for relief were ignored.

An orphanage. They were gathering the children from their homes and dumping them into the foster system. There hadn't been enough room. Dax had only managed to stay one night. One night sleeping on a ratty blanket on the floor surrounded by sweat and tears. Before dawn broke, he ran away. 

He never knew what happened to his parents. His home had been reduced to shambles. Their bodies were never found. 

Daxter took to being a street rat quite effectively. He mastered pickpocketing, and hiding in plain sight. He adapted to sleeping in trash every night. He ignored the gunfire and blasts of vibrant yellow fire. He survived, day by day, all while the adult population quickly dwindled above his head. A constant mantra played in his brain reminding him in rough times that it was better than the orphanage, better than the orphanage, better than the orphanage…

-/-

A year passed.

The sun was setting beyond the horizon, washing the sky in vibrant reds and purples. Daxter crouched in an alley, next to a running water pipe. Gurgling on little grunts of frustration, he brushed his teeth with a stolen toothbrush.

His small ear flicked nonchalantly when a shout of panic was drowned by gunfire. But, deeper in the alleyway came a clatter of glass. Daxter froze and listened carefully. A spooked critter maybe? There was another rustle and the telltale sound of crying. Immediately, he pulled his hood over his head. 

On guard, he crept closer. His eyes instantly settled on a shock of green hair. Not a spooked animal, but a spooked child. Dax’s shoulders relaxed. He turned away, already disinterested, but a small sob stopped him. Warily, he peeked over his shoulder. The boy looked so pitiful, curled up with his head buried in his knees. Dax hadn’t been around another kid in a long time. The streets were practically overrun with orphans just like him, but usually they took one look at his scrawny limbs and moved on. 

Beat by loneliness and pity, he bit his lip and inched toward the boy. He settled on his knees in front of him. “Hey,” Dax soothed. “It’s okay, buddy.”

The boy flinched away, hitting his head on the wall. Big, blue eyes suddenly met his own. They stared at each other. Dax curiously tilted his head to the side. The other mimicked him. 

“My name’s Daxter!” he announced joyfully. “What’s yers?”

There was another loud sniffle. The boy harshly rubbed at his wet eyes before he began to frantically pantomime with his hands.

Dax wrinkled his nose, annoyed. “Why are ya doin’ that?”

His face crumbled. For a moment he looked like he’d start crying again. Very pointedly, he lifted his chin and tapped his throat. Then covered his mouth and shook his head.

Dax blinked stupidly for many moments. “Ohhh,” he realized. “Ya can’t talk.”

A nod.

He hummed thoughtfully, trying to shield his irritation. He’d never met a mute before. Lack of knowledge on how to handle the situation only fueled him with the desire to walk away. But… “Can ya at least write?”

Another nod, this time slower. 

Jumping into action, Dax found a nearby stick and handed it to his new companion. The boy hesitated, studying Dax suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. His small shoulders hunched as he wrote his name in the gray sludge on the ground.

Dax peeked over his shoulder to read the clumsily written name. “Jak, huh? Not bad! Hey, watch this!” He swiped the stick back and drew funny faces and immature illustrations adults expected kids their age not to know.

Jak hid his chubby face into his hands and giggled.

Now that they were both standing, Dax couldn’t help but notice how significantly smaller the kid was. Clearly younger than him, then. A rush of protectiveness overwhelmed him. He unclasped his makeshift cloak and wrapped it around Jak’s shoulders.

Jak’s pudgy fingers curiously played with the fabric. Dax helpfully leaned in and pulled the hood over his head, shadowing half of his face.

“Are ya all alone?”

Clearly miserable, Jak nodded, dipping his chin to his chest.

“Great! Ya can stay with me!”

Irritation flashed across his face. He firmly shook his head no, and pointed towards the city.

Dax followed the direction of his finger. Finding nothing, he turned back and shrugged exaggeratedly.  

Holding up his palms, Jak moved back a few paces. Then, he began to play a game of charades. Miming out an intense story that Dax couldn’t quite keep up with. However, he caught on to the important parts. Such as Jak scratching his head in confusion and twirling around without direction.

It dawned on him, then. “Yer not just all alone. Yer lost.”

Jak abruptly halted and nodded frantically. 

Pointing in that general direction again, Dax asked, “And yer family is waitn’ for you there?”

Smiling gratefully, Jak snapped his fingers.

Bitter, Dax ignored thoughts of his own nonexistent family. Had no choice but to. And now the small hope of creating a new family had been unceremoniously squashed. “Sheesh,” he bit out, “How can someone not know their way around this dump by now?”

That small face fell, and guilt hit him in the chest. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Listen pal, how bout I swipe a map for you? And then ya can be on yer way.”

Brightening, Jak agreed to that. Without warning, he rushed forward and grabbed his hand. 

Flushing indignantly, Dax begrudgingly returned the handhold. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get this show on the road.”

Together, they left the alleyway. 

He remained vigilant the entire way. Children were generally ignored in the war effort. The unfortunate ones were caught up in the crossfire. Praxis was still scrambling for order, and he only wanted the street rats shepherded back into their respective prisons such as school or the orphanages or slapping on red armor and joining the fight. Dax refused it all. 

He kept a tight grip on his friend’s tiny hand, while he scanned for a business that would have a map.

Dax took quick note of a couple of Guards escorting some kids away, but ignored it. Or, he would’ve preferred to, but Jak’s pinched grip clawed into his arm. “Ow! What?”

The pure terror on his friend’s face melted away most of his annoyance. Jak inclined his head toward the group of Guards. Dax studied them once again but didn’t note anything out of the ordinary. “Yeah. They got caught. So what? Hey, where ya goin’?”

Jak was already scrambling away, crouching low to the ground. Dax had no choice but to follow. Nearby was an abandoned two-seater zoomer. Big enough for them to hide in. They clambered in and peeked over the edge. The KG were herding a group of kids, and ordering them to line up against a wall of a building. For a petrifying moment, Dax thought they’d all be shot one by one. Instead, they were all checked over and forced inside a prison tanker. His stomach dropped with the realization. “They’re takin’ kids?” He exchanged a look with Jak. “Why?”

There was something grim and dark in Jak’s eyes. It scared him, so he quickly averted his gaze and ignored it. 

“We’ve already been coded!” he hissed, mostly to himself. “What else could they want?”

Watching the tanker fly off didn’t bring him any comfort. Instead, he curled up against Jak on the seat. It didn’t escape him that the kids were around their age. But, his young mind couldn’t fathom an answer.

“You were right,” he huffed. “We gotta get outta here.”

Jak didn’t respond, he simply watched Daxter with dull eyes.

“I’ll getcha that map.” he promised and held his friend’s hands tightly. “And then yer bookin’ it outta here.”

Jak released a breathless sigh and curled closer against him, practically nuzzling his head into the crook of Dax’s neck. 

After their shivers of fear finally subsided, they crawled out of the zoomer. Dax honed in on his target and gently guided Jak to hide in a nearby alleyway. He shushed the worried hands reaching for him. “Just wait for the fireworks, bud.” 

It took awhile but as soon as the sector alarm went off, signaling the beginning of an attack, he charged into the chaos. 

Paranoid adults surrounded him, attacking the Channelers or sometimes even each other. They screamed hatred and obscenities that Daxter was too young to ponder over, all while a makeshift battle for dominance began around him.

He ignored it all, and masterfully stole a small brochure from the sector’s laundromat. Haven’s structure displayed helpfully on one of the pages.

“Easy as pie, baby!” Dax crowed and shuffled next to Jak in their hiding space. “One map served up hot!”

Jak remained quiet. Chin nestled into his knees, he stared at the ground and silently shuddered. 

Sympathetic, Dax scooted closer. “Hey, relax. We’re safe here.”

They both winced when a spiraling blast of yellow fire flew alarmingly close by.

“We’re safe,” Dax repeated firmly. “This happens all the time! Remember, the KG will swoop in and it’ll all be over!” 

His words didn't have the desired effect. Jak’s lips tightened before hot tears dripped down his cheeks. Curling into himself, he silently sobbed, just as he had when Dax first found him.

Dumbfounded, Dax didn’t know how to help. He hadn’t cried since the beginning. Didn’t allow himself to. Survival meant fighting every single day, and breaking down crying only got in the way of that. 

He had never comforted someone else before either, until today. But, he knew for a fact that Jak enjoyed touch. So, tentatively, he slipped an arm around his friend and held him close. There was a hitch in the sobs, and then Jak was pushing into him, hard. 

They remained close, long after the battle was over. Long enough for the stars to come out. 

The night didn’t deter him from continuing onward. The streetlamps provided enough illumination. 

Again, he felt irritated when Jak pointed to a specific spot on the map, right at the edge of the city. They didn’t need a stinkin’ map for that - he knew the way just fine! Everything would be so much more convenient if Jak could just speak. Internally calming himself, Dax took the initiative and grabbed Jak’s hand tightly. “Just keep close, a’ight?”

Jak bobbed his head obediently and kept up with his fast pace. 

Just because it was dark didn’t mean the battles stopped. Some people seized the chance of vulnerability, others just wanted to sleep. It was a fifty/fifty chance. 

“Keep yer eye out for any hidin’ spots,” he advised quietly. “The alleyways are awesome, but sometimes there’ll be some weirdos creepin’ in there. Don’t let ‘em grab you. Oh, and best to avoid critters. They can be nasty.” 

Dax’s mouth rattled off, giving Jak all of his survival guidance. Mostly to distract himself from the inevitable end. Mostly to give Jak a fighting chance when he was alone again.

Haven City was surrounded by many things. A forest that led to vast mountains. An ocean that led to freezing Icelands. And a desert that led to the unforgiving Wastelands. One day, when he was all grown up, he’d like to see it all. Maybe.

Jak chose the edge closest to the desert. 

The city had a large archway for an exit where a few Guards were stationed, but that was alright, as long as they didn’t draw their attention. As far as he was aware, Jak had no intention of actually leaving the city.

“Well, here we are.” Dax reluctantly offered the map. 

Timidly, the map was plucked from fingers and checked over once more. Nodding, Jak sidestepped him, but hesitated from walking away. Gazing at him with his sad, doe eyes, he slowly held out his hand in silent invitation. 

Heart breaking, Dax couldn’t understand why he felt so resentful. It wasn’t Jak’s fault, it wasn’t! But, Jak had come into his life, and had been so strange, and new. Had relied on Dax, just to suddenly turn around and leave him. It wasn’t fair.

He quickly caught him in a warm hug, tucking Jak’s head under his chin. “I wish I could, but-” it was impossible to find the proper words. How could he explain that his world had already been severely rocked, and he wasn’t quite ready to go through it again? How he couldn’t put blind faith into leaving everything he knew behind. Jak’s fingers squeezed his back, and he knew then that he didn’t have to. 

When they pulled away, Jak questionably began to unhook his cloak.

“Nah. You keep it.” Dax grinned crookedly. “I’ll just get a new one!”

Blue eyes glimmered like sapphires. Jak rewarded him with a genuine grin. Dax’s tummy warmed at the sight. 

Digging into his blue overalls, Jak fished something out of his pocket and held it out to him. Dax cupped his palms and a glimmering white stone dropped into them. “Oooo! It’s shiny!” He wished he could hold it up in the sunlight. Even in the dark it sparkled like a jewel. It felt cool, like ice.

Very briefly, he considered how valuable it could be, but… looking back at Jak’s crinkled eyes and sweet smile… he curled it possessively against his chest, and banished those thoughts. 

Dax smiled weakly and watched his friend walk away. Jak looked over his shoulder, once, to shyly wave goodbye before he disappeared into the darkness.

He was alone.

Chapter Text

Guard duty was the worst, especially on top of the wall.

The hours were agonizing without company. The nearest person to talk to was patrolling another section of the border a couple miles away. He could communicate with the other guards on the wall through the walkie-talkie attached to his belt. But then he'd be in trouble. "I can talk to myself just fine," he said aloud. "It's not crazy."

Daxter stared over the horizon. Out in the desert, he could see their tents and huts. A small village that used to be a Traders market until Praxis cut it off.

They lived a comfortable distance away, too far out to be a threat. The only purpose of the wall patrol was to make sure none of them had the brilliant idea to climb over into the city. Or worse, try to destroy the wall itself.

Dax thought it was foolish to practically have their enemies as neighbors, but hey, he wasn’t in charge. 

“Why doesn’t the Baron just go out and blast ‘em to smithereens? Y’know. Sneak attack.”

“He can’t.” Torn’s face had darkened. “The Baron needs this war. Needs them alive.” 

So the village remained standing as did the threat of the Channelers' existence, constantly within view. 

The wall was supposedly haunted. 

Daxter was not a fan of horror. Sure, he could appreciate it every once and awhile if it was enough to get under his skin. And he occasionally enjoyed telling his own spooky tale whenever he managed to gather enough attention. However, ghost stories were first and foremost not real.

That being said, there was something off about the wall. He wasn’t ready to slap the label of ‘haunted’ onto it. But... sometimes there would be a gust of air - warm against the chilly wind. Unnatural. Then, a shimmer appeared, like light bouncing off a fish’s scales. Fleeting and gone in an instant.

He had tried to report it the first time, but was brushed off by his supervisor. After all, the higher ups, like Erol, only wanted to know about real threats, not delusions.

Speak of the devil. The air abruptly felt wrong, like the wind had changed course. 

There. Dax rubbed his eyes, convinced his mind was playing tricks on him. A sporadic purple light arched the edge of the wall. He blinked and it was closer. 

Fear struck him, seizing his back until he was rigid. Tangible warmth brushed against his side and Dax suddenly felt the presence of something large. Then it was gone like it had never existed. The cold air came rushing back - jarring in the absence of heat. 

Dax let out a breath. His heartbeat gradually slowing as he stared at the Wastelands.

Okay, so maybe the wall was haunted.

Two hours later, he was begging for the shift to be over with, mentally bored and physically exhausted. His feet ached from walking back and forth down the perimeter. He sang random tunes out loud to ease his loneliness. 

Halting so he could kick a pebble over the edge into the sands down below, he considered just sitting down and taking a break. There were no cameras installed up here, and the other guards were too far away to notice. 

Fuck it, Dax thought and lowered down - just as the faint sound of the city alarm went off. The system had different sirens of course. One for shelter, one for evacuation, and the most common one: besieged by Eco Users. 

He scrambled closer to the edge, trying to see which sector was under attack, but nothing appeared out of the ordinary. 

His walkie-talkie came alive with a burst of static. “Stay at your posts, boys,” a voice he didn’t recognize said. “That damn freak is assaulting the power station-” Dax once again looked down into the city as the lights went out in the Industrial Section. “Fuck! Where is Vin-” the voice cut out with another crackle of static.

Daxter settled down, suddenly grateful for guard duty on the wall.

When the sun began to creep over the horizon, Dax received the signal that his shift was over. Thank the Precursors it was the weekend and he could attempt to get his sleeping schedule back on course for Monday’s class. 

He stepped into the elevator that would take him back down to ground level. “Au revoir, fuckin’ ghost.” He saluted the burnt orange sky.

At each elevator post, there was a guardhouse. Daxter stepped into the claustrophobic booth and returned his walkie-talkie, flare gun, and pistol. He went through the tedious motion of signing his name on the tablet along with the date and time. In the report file, he simply noted that nothing significant happened.

“Before you go, Red, Ms.Praxis wants you to report to her office.”

Daxter paused at the door with a frown. “What, right now?”

“Obviously.”

“Just me?”

His supervisor shrugged. “She asked to speak to everyone that did guard duty tonight.”

It didn’t add up, and Daxter turned fully with a twisted scowl. “That’s bullshit. We’re not all piling into her office at once. She just asked for me cause I’m a rookie.”

The older man shifted at his desk, subtly reaching for his utility belt. “You gonna defile a direct order, Daxter? Best to get a move on.”

Dax’s eyes caught the threat, but from this angle he couldn’t tell if his supervisor was reaching for his taser or baton. Quickly, he held up his hands. “Don’t get yer panties in a twist. I’m goin’...”

His feet ached and he was beyond tired, but he did what he was told and climbed onto his zoomer. Back to the Academy he went. Not only was it a school for ambitious, new Guards, but it conveniently held office space for the higher ups. The Baron was notorious for sharing his sparkling Palace with others. 

The sunlight was blinding as it steadily rose, but he didn’t exactly want to piss off Praxis’ daughter. He didn’t know a lot about Ashelin, other than that Torn apparently had a thing for her. Tess tended to gush about the two of them walking on eggshells around each other, but Dax had never personally seen them interact, so he didn’t have any material to work with when it came to teasing. Any attempt at getting Torn to spill the beans ended with a brick wall. 

According to gossip, Ashelin was very aloof. She was the Captain of the KG but preferred spending time in the Palace, essentially avoiding her responsibilities and pissing off her father. She hadn’t even shown up for the final exams last year.

So, when he stepped into her office, his nerves were admittedly a bit shot. All he saw sitting behind the desk was an extremely hot babe, and he opened his mouth before he could think. "Well, hel-lo gorgeous."

Her gun was out in a flash, pointed directly at his forehead. "I suggest you shut your mouth and take a seat."

He none too gracefully collapsed into the chair across from her desk. "Good idea!" And promptly cleared his throat when his voice squeaked. 

She practically sneered as she redirected her attention to her computer. "The Dark Warrior attacked last night."

"Yeah. I'm well aware."

"He's getting more persistent. And I'm determined to find where he's hiding." She met his stare, eyes sharp as emeralds. "You and the others on guard duty didn't report anything. Why?"

"Cause I didn't see anything weird, well, except the ghost."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Ghost?"

His stomach clenched. Hastily, he fumbled to explain. “Well, we don’t actually know if it's a ghost. It's just easy to call it that."

Ashelin snapped up her hand, cutting him off. "Stop. What is it?"

"I'm trying to tell you, it-" Dax inhaled deeply. "Every once and awhile, there's this weird light. It moves across the wall and then it vanishes. They all call it the ghost. I personally voted for alien cause-"

"And you didn't think to report it?" Her voice deepened with rage.

"We tried, lady! That creepo Erol shot it down! Told us the Baron wasn't interested in conspiracies or some shit."

"Erol said…" Ashelin looked away, curling her fingers around her chin. “But why would my father-” She exhaled deeply and closed her eyes. Her muscles visibly tensed, as if she was holding back from lashing out. 

Dax remained ragged stiff, trying with all his might to keep his mouth shut. No wonder Torn had a thing for her. She was fucking terrifying.

“Have you ever considered what they are truly capable of?” 

His eyebrows raised at the random question. He wondered if she was rhetorically talking to herself. 

“Maybe they’re just testing us.”

He doubted it. If that were the case, there wouldn’t be a decade old war. But, he wouldn’t tell her that. “Well… that’s a disturbing thought.” Dax ventured cautiously.

Her ears flicked. She looked at him as if she had forgotten he was there. "Thank you, Daxter. I'll speak with Erol about this… ghost."

He nodded and nearly tripped over his own feet in his eagerness to escape. However, in the doorway, he stopped. "Huh. I'm noticing the lack of a line. That's funny, ain't it?"

"You're dismissed."

-/-

It was late afternoon by the time Daxter woke from his nap. He stepped upstairs into the kitchen and nearly gagged. “Ew, what died?”

Torn shot him a dirty look over his shoulder from where he stood at the stove. “My day to cook.” He brandished his spatula threateningly. “And I don’t want to hear a thing from you.”

"I'm just wonderin’ why yer almost thirty and still can't cook- uh... what was that supposed to be?"

"Says the guy that burns eggs."

"Touche." Daxter slumped at the table, desiring more sleep. "By the way, yer girlfriend pulled me into her office today. For some reason she thinks I'm responsible for the Dark Warrior attacks."

There was a sizzle from the hot pan. "Ashelin is getting tired of the same problem with no solutions."

"Yeah, well, no reason to take it out on me! By the way, why don't you ever invite her over here for dinner? Yer lack of social skills besides."

"You are aware I would be executed on the Palace steps if we were actually in a relationship."

Dax blew a raspberry. "Doesn't seem like it'd stop you."

The stove was turned off with a click. Torn slid the burnt food onto a nearby plate. Daxter didn’t make a move for it, and neither did Torn. It seemed he only cooked for appearance - to avoid an ass-kicking from Tess for not following her homely schedule.

Instead, he grabbed the coffeepot and poured them each a cup. Dax grabbed it gratefully, but didn’t say anything as his brother took a seat across from him.

"I've been thinking," Torn began nonchalantly. 

"Oh no…"

"There are plenty of other professions out there."

Daxter harshly placed his cup down, spilling a few drops. “Ugh. Not this again.”

“If you’re so desperate to work for the Baron-”

“Uh, technically everyone works for that dude.”

Torn ticked off his fingers. “You could be a medic, a firefighter, a dispatcher-”

“Okay. One, I can’t even handle blood. Remember a couple years back I nearly cut off my finger and had to get stitches? I was out cold!”

“Yeah, I had to pay the emergency bill-”

“Two! I would never pass the physical exam to be a firefighter. And three! I’ve got waaay too much energy to be sittin’ in a chair all day. Total snoozefest.”

“Right,” Torn drawled, unimpressed. “So, basically, you’re only fine with the blood of people you’ll be ordered to kill. You’re strong enough to wear a suit of armor every day, but not to carry someone in need. And finally, you find the idea of assisting the helpless to be boring.”

Daxter stared, stunned speechless.

Torn raised his cup to him. “Congratulations. You’ll make an excellent Krimzon Guard.”

-/-

Frustration and humiliation boiled in his belly. Desperate to douse it, he drove to the nearest bar: The Hip Hog Haven. A significantly bleak and depressing bar in his humble opinion, but hey, he wasn’t in the mood to be picky. 

As with everything in this city, all Dax had to do was hold his wrist to the bartender, who quickly scanned his barcode to affirm his citizen status and age. Sixteen was the legal age to do anything independently. Drink, drive, work, marriage. Sixteen was the magic number. Luckily for him, he had passed his seventeenth birthday and was doing, well, most of those things. Marriage had yet to be a goal, considering he had never even dated anyone before.

Grabbing his beer, Dax considered whether to sit at the bar and yuck it up with the chucklefuck working, or pick a booth. 

Freezing, he caught sight of Sig stowed away in the back booth. Definitely Sig. His hulking mass was unmistakable and Daxter, fairly enough, had memorized his mug from staring at it for over a year. 

Briefly looking around to make sure no one was watching, Dax shuffled over to his table. “Uh, can I join you? Or is that, like, illegal?”

Caught off guard, Sig stared at him owlishly. But, it didn’t last long. “Probably not illegal.” He said smoothly, “But preferably? Not sure.”

“Aw, c’mon, big guy! You’d leave yer favorite student high and dry?” Dax fluttered his lashes for added effect. 

The puppy eyes apparently worked. Sig sighed, a slight smile twitching at his lips. “Okay, but just for a minute.” 

Without further ado, Dax slid into the booth across from him. The leather seat squeaked obnoxiously, but he settled in easily. 

“And for the record, Keira is my favorite student.”

“Gee, color me surprised!”

Sig shrugged unrepentantly. “You would’ve been, if, y’know, you had graduated.”

Dejected, Dax immediately swiped his beer and took a swig. “Let’s not, okay?”

Features softening, Sig quietly examined him. Dax met his stare, but didn’t elaborate. As if it was hard to figure out. 

Sig was… interesting, to say the least.

A clearly intimidating man who appeared strong enough to lift a yakow with his pinky finger. And this terrifying man had been assigned to be a teacher for cadets. It was easy to guess why. Sig had lost both his eye and leg in the effort to eradicate the Channelers from the city. Out of the battlefield and straight into the classroom. Celebrated as a war hero? Naaah. Praxis didn’t have time for that. All he saw was a man who was useful on his own for five minutes. And he would continue to be useful packing out more glory-hungry kids. 

Despite everything, Dax liked Sig. The big lug positively radiated older brother energy, even when it wasn’t intentional.  No one would ever replace the gratitude he held for Torn, of course. But, Dax still remembered the mushy, bright feeling the first time Sig had smiled with pride and ruffled his hair. Something that Torn had never done.

Daxter wanted both of their approval, but there was something distinguishably warm about Sig. Whereas Torn had only perfected his Ice Prince persona over the years. 

He pointedly cleared his throat. “Don’t tell me ya actually like hangin’ in this burg?”

“The scenery isn’t appreciable.” With a smirk, Sig casually inclined his head to the side. “I’m here for the company.”

Following the intended direction, Dax’s tongue rolled out in disgust as his eyes landed on Krew. Thank the Precursors he was floating on the other side of the bar, seemingly dealing out with a couple of customers. “Seriously? What do you get from that piece of work?”

“It pays to have connections.”

“Mhmm.” Dax took a moment to consider it. Even in his increasingly buzzed state. Sig never had to go through the Academy. He had been given his tattoos and status just for his heroic deeds alone. It would be useful to pull a few strings. “And how would someone like me make those connections?”

Pausing from pulling out a cigarette, Sig gave him a look. “You serious?”

“Well, why not? C’mon, throw me a bone. I wanna be hot out of the gate when I graduate. When, not if.” He added petulantly to Sig’s skeptical snort.

“Hate to break it to you, kid, but you’ll never be close to Krew’s level.” The small flame from his lighter illuminated the space between them. There was a sudden puff of smoke lingering in the already heavy air. 

Daxter frowned. “What does he got that I don’t? Butterball can’t even run a bar correctly.” Eager to prove himself, he held out his hand. “Gimme a smoke.”

Blinking rapidly, even Sig’s red optic eye flashed. He hesitated before he shrugged indulgently and handed it over.

Dax confidently took a long drag, and immediately gagged. Dammit, that burned! He pounded his chest with his fist and quickly handed the cigarette back. 

His loud coughing fest conveniently covered up the sound of Sig’s quiet laughter. Unwilling to garner attention, he gulped down his drink to ease the flaring ache in his throat. “Fuck it.” Exhausted, Dax propped his forehead in his head and whined, “This place sucks.”

Sig shook his head with a smirk. “It’s not too bad.”

“Yeah right! If I was runnin’ this place, there’d be parties every night!” Tipsy, and imagination running rampant, he motioned to the dreary bar. “Lots of women! Dancin’ on that vacant pole!” His voice raised excitedly. “Oh, oh! See those stairs over there? That means there’s space upstairs! It could be renovated to be, like, a suite! And suckers would pay to sleep after they’re too wasted to leave!”

Sig’s rumbling chuckle shattered his fantasies. “Pretty ambitious for a Krimzon Guard.”

Oh. Yeah.

Sheepishly, his eyes dipped down to the dark tabletop. Coldness encompassed him, and not even the warm alcohol swirling in his chest could oppose it. He suddenly felt very lost, and alone. 

Sig sighed and snuffed out his cigarette. He regarded Dax sympathetically. “If ya really want my advice... Always be on your guard, chili pepper. Trust me. There’s a lot you don’t know.”

Slumping back in the booth, Dax grabbed his beer in defeat. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, big guy. I’ll make sure to jot that in my notes later.”

Chapter Text

Daxter didn't hate the Channelers. Not really. He just... didn't like them. 

There was something unnerving about them - given the fact that they didn’t look any different from anyone else, but still held awesome power. And he couldn’t help but feel jealous of those few people lucky enough to be born one step ahead on the evolutionary scale. That was just it, wasn't it? Eco existed, so the Precursors created humans to control it.

Dax should feel hypocritical to judge others. His large overbite, scrawny limbs, and nasally loud voice made perfect fodder for relentless teasing comments. No matter where he went, or who he was with, he was the butt of the joke. He understood being different. He understood the outcast. The underdog. 

To an extent he did sympathize with them, but at the end of the day, the farther they stayed away the better. 

They were the reason the world fell apart. 

The old King attacked his Advisor first. The infamous clip had played on a loop throughout the city for months: Praxis, holding no weapon. A blinding white light, held in the King’s hand, and half of Praxis’ face had been blasted off in an instant. 

The King had been trusted with his powers and he had abused them. 

No one knew why. Praxis had never explained what had provoked the King to attack. Not that it really mattered, anymore.

Praxis wasn’t exactly a good ruler. Most would prefer to call him a Dictator, but at least he was doing his best to keep them safe.

Would Daxter rule things like this? Probably not. The state of the world was entrusted to those at the very top and that obviously wasn’t him. What difference could he make? None. Zilch. Nada. 

Besides, Praxis had insured the Channelers weren’t a true threat anymore. Except for one…

-/-

The classroom lights went out as the board lit on, and everyone automatically shut their mouths.

Sig waltzed in front of the room, his prosthetic leg audibly creaking. It seemed it gave him more trouble than usual on certain days. Dax wondered if it was the cold rain that made his leg stiff. Even the window screens had been set to a dreary, gray landscape, casting the room in a bleak atmosphere.

“What can you tell me about the Eco Users?” 

Many rushed to answer Sig’s question. Unfortunately, even if they were technically correct, they all missed the mark.

“They’re irredeemable monsters?”

“They shouldn’t be trusted?”

“They belong outside the wall!”

There were a few chuckles to that.

“They don’t have a home.” Keira’s voice muttered, too low to be heard by anyone but Daxter. He side-eyed her for a moment, put off by her differentiating mood swings. It was really unfortunate the desks allowed for two people to sit at. Some days he wished the desks were designed smaller.

Sig rubbed his chin, a playful glint in his eye. “Ambitious lot. Not exactly what I’m lookin’ for.”

Daxter didn’t bother raising his hand. “We don’t know anything about them.”

Sig sighed, exasperated, and spared him a glance. "Yes, Daxter. We don't know anything about them." He crossed his arms and leaned casually against his desk. "Why can't any of you channel eco? It grows in the planet, after all. It's natural .”

“Are you saying it’s not genetics?” Alexia -no, or was it Astria? Damn, Dax needed to start remembering names- asked. 

Sig shrugged, a little too cheerily for his own good. “Who knows? Maybe it's, let's say, a mutation?”

The room went quiet - with dread.

“Are you saying any of us could one day start channeling eco?”

“Our children could? Wait, no way.”

“Has that ever happened before?”

Rolling his eyes, Dax dismissed the conspiracies floating around the room. He adamantly returned to his doodling. Precursors made eco. Precursors made humans to control it. It was that simple. It had to be! No one in this room would ever just one day wake up with the ability to channel eco. No one. Never. 

He glared sourly at Sig’s satisfied smirk. He couldn’t understand why the big guy enabled the classroom like this. It was clear the idiots were just spewing bullshit to get his attention, and more importantly, his stamp of approval. And Sig was having a good ol’ time eating it up.

“I don’t have the answers, which means neither will any of you.” Sig interrupted jovially. "Now that’s out of the way,  what can you tell me about eco?"

This time, Daxter spoke up before anyone else could manage to. "It's magical!"

"Not quite. But that's one strike for you, chili pepper." 

Scoffing, Dax turned to Keira and winked cheekily. She glared at him.

No one else bothered to try and answer, and Sig nodded, as if this told him something significant. “Nothing. That’s right. The planet produces it, but what does that entail? As you’ll all hopefully be Guards, there are a couple things we can tell you.” A wave of anticipation rolled through the room. Even Dax looked up. “Ten years ago, all the eco inside the city was confiscated.”

“Where is it being held?” A voice piped up curiously.

Torn probably knew but his lips were firmly sealed shut. Apparently puppy dog eyes and ass-kissing didn't beat government secrets. “Hey, that is classified information!” Dax heckled.

“Strike two, Daxter.” Sig tapped on the board, showing the class an image of an array of vibrant colors. “Praxis has adequate knowledge of what eco does to a Channeler. Super speed, strength, control over the elements. Anything they put their imagination to, they will achieve. Eco, to them, is basically just sand. They can use it to shape whatever they please.”

“See?” Dax hissed to Keira. "Magic!"

"Shush!"

“This is why it can be different colors. That is why it can be found in any shape or form. Liquid, gas, solid. You need to be diligent out there or you will die.”

Finally, the exuberant act came to a halt. The smile disappeared, and Sig scanned over all of them with his eye. The red optic glistened briefly.

“There is one type of eco you should all avoid at all costs, and it is unfortunately the most common.” He tapped on a dark purple square. A picture showed pools of a black oily substance. It glowed unnaturally with purple light. “Dark eco,” Sig explained grimly. “It’s found in mass quantities outside the wall. Even if we were to contain it, it’s too unstable to handle. The last scientist to test it had her arm amputated.”

“Precursors,” his classmate whispered in horror.

"Luckily the Users don't want anything to do with it either." 

Daxter rolled his eyes at the dramatics. Or…

"Or, at least, they used to." His teacher finally shuffled off to the side, holding a minuscule remote in his hand. Everyone knew what was about to happen next. "A year ago, he showed up."

In his peripheral vision Dax covertly studied Keira. Maybe not quite for spiteful reasons, he wanted to see her reaction. She didn’t disappoint. With a nearly inaudible click from Sig’s hand, purple light illuminated her green eyes beautifully. She raised a hand to her mouth, chest fluttering.

On the screen were multiple photos of a demon. All taken at indiscriminate angles.

The Dark Warrior. 

A title bestowed by Praxis himself. Because, why not? Every monster needed a title.

To his shock, Keira subtly turned her head to examine him. Their eye contact lasted a split second before he glued his gaze to the board. What the hell was that about? She wouldn't get a reaction out of him.

Everyone knew about him, it was impossible not to. But, seeing what he was truly capable of put it all under a different light. Made it more real. 

No one even knew what he was, exactly. 

“I wish I could explain what he is, but no one knows.” Sig’s voice regretfully echoed over them. “Praxis believes they managed to carve a beast out of dark eco itself - hence the name.”

There was another subtle click. 

The pictures were swapped for a series of videos, all extremely short in length, but directly to the point. 

Daxter’s eyes were locked onto the screen, breath reedy in his chest. 

The quality was atrocious, as was the nauseatingly shaking camera. One showed the monster lifting a prison tanker over his head, before tossing it away as if it weighed merely a few pounds. Another where lightning burst from deadly claws, immobilizing a group of Guards. Bullets cutting through corpse-pale skin, only to show wounds sealing up, instantly healed. 

And, of course, the most terrifying of all. The one that had left Dax with nightmares for a week. This particular video was clear and recognizable, given it was body-cam footage this time.

An entire troop had the demon surrounded. Just as everyone felt a spark of hope - it immediately died as he jumped straight into the air and crashed fist first back to the ground. An entire shock wave of destructive energy exploded from him, knocking everyone off their feet. Zoomers wailed in protest as the energy holding them in the air disrupted. A streetlamp busted, showering the area in sparks. Static overwhelmed the video before it cut out. 

He was strong, he was fast, he was invincible…

“ This ,” Sig pointed firmly to the board. “Is our biggest threat. This will be your greatest opponent.”

No one stood a chance against that. 

Horror clenched his stomach. Numbness crept up his hands, making his fingers twitch. He couldn't hear the muttering around him anymore. He didn't notice Keira staring at him.

They would never be safe. Every time he managed to fall into a false state of security, it would all go to hell again.

Shaking himself off, he violently shoved those thoughts to the back of his head. 

He dove back into his notebook and drew the Dark Warrior as a stick-man, with big, scary teeth, destroying the town like something out of a B-monster flick. 

-/-

In the KG academy, there were only three courses a person had to complete: Community hours as a part of training for the real deal. The written test, to prove your knowledge. And the physical assessment, to prove you had the skills to fight and defend. Pass all that and you were in.

Today they were in the combat facility, training how to fight. There were many different skills to combat training. Hand to hand wrestling matches. Guns. Tasers. Mace. All the arsenal the KG had under their belt, the rookies would learn how to effectively use.

Daxter preferred this to sitting in the boring classroom, being lectured on basic shit he already knew. Not to mention, he was a decent fighter and genuinely enjoyed learning how to improve. He may not be big or strong, but he was agile and balanced and his small stature belied his advantage. 

With a satisfied grunt, Dax stretched his arms over his head. Chilly air hit his stomach as his tank top lifted from the movement.

“Alright, newbies, listen up!” Sig hollered, waving his fancy clipboard. “Today you’ll be paired off.”

Noobs indeed , Dax thought smugly. As this was his second run through the course, he could typically take down his fellow classmates with ease. He continued to stretch as Sig called out the match ups and people scrambled to their mats.

“Hagai with Daxter.”

Dax’s head snapped up fast enough that his neck creaked. “What!”

Sig didn't appear impressed. "Did I stutter?"

Daxter hustled closer until he was practically glued to Sig's side. "You can't pair me with her."

"Really?" Sig crossed his arms. "Why not?"

They both glanced over to where Keira stood in convenient listening distance. She glared at them as she tied her hair into a bun.

Dax chose to ignore her. "How am I supposed to improve with her?"

"Kid, you're not gonna improve sparring with anyone here." Sig pointed out sardonically.

"Alright then, let me fight you!" The suggestion was thrown out carelessly and Dax immediately bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood. 

Sig chuckled, as if he enjoyed the thought. “Maybe another time.”

“Everyone knows you have a soft spot for her,” Dax spat out as a last resort.

Suddenly, Keira stepped between them. As always, he was dumbfounded with the fact she was so damn small.

“Are we gonna spar now?” She sneered at him. “Or are you gonna keep whining?”

“Whinin’?!” He sputtered indignantly. “I’ll have you know, babe , that I was just lookin’ out for you.”

“Yeah?” Green eyes narrowed. “Because I’m a girl?”

“Oh, shut up.” He crowded closer, towering over her with his height. “It’s because you’d topple over from a gust of wind-” She became a blur. Abruptly, Dax’s legs were kicked out from underneath him. He landed on his back harshly, the breath promptly knocked out of him. Dazed, he blinked up at her smug face. “Cheap shot,” he grunted and hopped back on his feet.

“At least it got you to shut up,” With a grin, she rushed forward to punch him. Reacting, he grabbed her wrist, twisted, and used her momentum to pull her over his hip, and straight onto her back. Upside down green eyes blinked rapidly up at him. “Don’t get cocky,” Dax teased with a brattish smirk of his own. 

They went back and forth, trading light blows, each trying to either temporarily incapacitate or knock down the other. Unfortunately, they both had hot tempers and a fierce competitiveness.

For Daxter, this meant backing down. There was a kernel of truth in her words earlier; whether she liked it or not she was a girl, and he had no desire to actually hurt her. He wanted to beat her, but he didn’t want to lose control. 

For Keira, however, it meant the complete opposite. 

When Dax went in for a punch, she ducked underneath the attack. Wrapping an arm around his stomach, she sidestepped him, knocking him off balance. At that moment, she threw him backwards over her hip. He floundered, nearly flipped upside down by the move. Unable to speak, Dax stared up at her in awe. That certainly wasn’t one of Sig’s techniques. “Where the heck did you learn that?”

The aggression evaporated in an instant. She gaped at him in return, eyes going wide. Briefly, she looked around before backing away. “Sorry,” she meekly offered her hand out to him. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Dax brushed her hand away. “Nothin’ to be sorry over.” He left the mat to grab his water bottle. “But, hey, mind teachin’ me that next time?”

When he glanced over his shoulder, she was gone.

Chapter Text

Daxter didn’t particularly like Keira Hagai.

She hadn't done anything wrong, aside from being, well, disgustingly sweet. A smile was always on her face. A little pep in her step. It was infuriating, because nobody could be that damn happy all the time. And she was cute, but not that cute.

He was the youngest of his siblings. He imagined having a little sister would be similar to having Keira around - and was very, very grateful that wasn’t the case. Maybe now, he even felt a little sympathetic for Torn. 

The class didn’t have assigned seating, so during the first month of the new semester, Keira had sat next to every single person, rotating throughout the classroom. 

Dax had dreaded the day she would sit next to him. It was inevitable. Every day she strolled in, he had held his breath apprehensively. It’s not like he wasn’t a friendly guy. But, there was just something inexplicably irritating about the girl with blue-green hair. She was small. Smaller than him. Dax couldn't fathom what place she had as a KG. 

He mentally groaned the day she finally sat next to him. All smiles and ear gratingly high-pitched voice. She radiated more sunshine and flowers than Tess, and that was saying a lot. 

Dax firmly kept his head bowed. Of course the seat next to him was always empty. People usually gravitated towards him for his outgoing attitude, before they walked away, overwhelmed with it.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her obviously appraising him. Fuck, here it comes…

"Hi!" she chirped. "I'm Keira Hagai! I'm sixteen years old. This is my first year and my goal is to ultimately change the city for the better."

Speechless, Daxter stared incredulously. 

Keira blinked. "What's up?"

"Do you just… give everyone a dossier on yer life?"

"Oh! Yeah." Keira meticulously straightened her noticeably brand new tablet on the desk. "I'm not really a fan of small talk."

"Right," he deadpanned. Please, just go the fuck awaaaay. My poor ears are bleedin’ here!

"What’s your name?”

"I'm Daxter. Nice to meetcha."

For whatever reason, she froze. She seemed to do a double-take, eyes gradually scanning over his body. "Daxter?"

He stared incomprehensibly before realization struck. “Yeah. Daxter, not Dexter. I get that a lot, unfortunately."

"No, it's not that. I’ve heard your name before."

Put out, Dax mutinously hunched over his notebook. “Yeah, yeah. I flunked last year. Peeps love to bring that up. Especially Siggy up there.”

Aggrieved, she glanced at their none-the-wiser teacher. “Siggy? That’s kind of disrespectful. He’s a veteran.”

“Thanks for the tip, babe.” He took vindictive pleasure in the way her expression abruptly darkened. Fucking finally. “But, in case ya didn’t hear me before, I’ve been here a lot longer than you. So, y’know, get used to it.”

“Mhm.” Keira grunted, and rolled her shoulder. With that, she simply turned away and continued to get ready for class.

From then on, he seized every chance at being a jackass towards her. She still sat at the same desk for reasons he couldn’t fathom.

It seemed no matter how much he pushed, she wouldn’t budge.

-/-

As the semester continued on, Daxter and Keira never did get along. They squabbled  - but respectfully never crossed any lines. 

It was the status quo - until it suddenly wasn’t.

Keira sat down at their desk with a vague expression of anger. Dax ignored her and continued to draw as they waited for Sig to begin the class.
 
“Damn Channelers.”

Dax started, broken from his concentration of sketching himself with cartoonishly large muscles. “Uh, sorry. What?”

“I said,” Keira’s voice dripped with resentment. “Damn Channelers. Eco Users. Whatever you want to call them.”

Dax blinked, silenced with bafflement. Prejudice was a concept he was more than familiar with, but hearing such bitterness from pretty, angelic Keira was jarring. 

Perhaps the lesson presenting the Dark Warrior had bothered her more than he had suspected. Or maybe she was still hot and bothered from their impertinent sparring match.

Keira frowned at him. "What?"

"Didja wake up on the wrong side of the bed or somethin'?"

She shrugged half-heartedly. "I didn't have time for breakfast."

He lifted an eyebrow. "So when yer hangry you become a bigot?"

Clearly taken aback, Keira blinked rapidly. Her mouth opened and closed. Suddenly her shoulders dropped and she refused eye contact. "I'm just tired."

"Insomnia?"

"No!" Her fist smacked against the desk. "I mean tired of the war!"

Sig cleared his throat pointedly as he powered on the board. A few students behind them snickered.

For the sake of continuing, Dax lowered his voice. "Uhh, no offense but were you even alive when it started?"

“I’m only a year younger than you,” she deadpanned.

“Okay so you were, like, a toddler. I highly doubt you remember anythin’ before this shit...” Dax trailed off, taking note of the way her lips thinned. Green eyes glittered. Shit. You don’t know what she’s been through, asshole. “Sorry,” he blurted. “That was kinda shitty. Sorry.” He had always pushed her buttons, but to actually make her cry? What did that say about him? 

“S’fine.”

But Dax knew it really wasn’t. “I’m tired too,” he admitted. “I wish everythin’ wasn’t so complicated. But, I don’t hate them.”

Keira casually rubbed her eyes. “Them? The Channelers?”

Dax nodded, heart officially on his sleeve.

“Do you know any? Like, have you ever met one?”

“No,” Dax said. “At least, not that I remember.” He cracked a tiny grin. “Who knows? Maybe I have and I just didn’t know it!”

“But you don’t hate them?” Keira pressed.

“Nah. Sometimes I’m jealous, and sometimes I’m scared, but, y’know sometimes I’m weirdly grateful? I lost my parents and I’m not even upset about it. I was raised by a couple of amazin' people and I’m glad I met ‘em.”

“I never knew my mother,” she sympathized with him softly. “My father and I were separated. I want to be a Krimzon Guard so I can be with him again.” She shook her head with amusement, twitching a smile. “Why are you even here?”

The question struck like a snake, wrapping around his lungs and stealing his breath. His expression fell, but only for a moment. He shrugged goofily. “Good question!”

She laughed a bit, just as Sig called for attention.

The status quo had been flipped belly-side up. Daxter was starting to like Keira Hagai.

And he surprisingly didn’t mind.

-/-

Usually, Dax was too lazy to pack his own lunch. Tess had taken up the task for a while but Dax couldn’t bear it, already used to her spoiling him like a baby at every opportunity. He was a man now, dammit. And they both had bad habits to break.

Instead, he would head down to the cafeteria at break time. Problem was, it was always busy. KG of all shifts and ranks came for a hot meal. And the prices were outrageous. By the time he had gotten through the line and paid for his totally-not-worth-it-holy-SHIT meal, he barely had enough time to guzzle it down and make it back to class in time.

He began to skip lunch. What Tess didn’t know wouldn't hurt her. 

As soon as the alarm buzzed for their break, Keira called out his name in the hallway. "Hey, I packed extra. Wanna join me?"

Dax looked at her scrutinously. "Didja poison it? I didn't think I was that annoyin’."

She rolled her eyes. "I noticed you wandered around on break." Digging into her pack she fished out a sandwich stuffed in a plastic bag. "Figured you'd be hungry."

His stomach growled in approval. "Oh, hell yeah!"

Obediently, he followed her outside. Turns out she ate under one of the only trees in the courtyard. Dax settled on the bench and eagerly swiped the offered meal from her. She neatly opened a carton of rice and vegetables.

A leaf gently swayed down and landed between them. It was peaceful, and more importantly...her food was goddamn delicious.

"Thanks," he grumbled sincerely, with his mouth full. "How'd you know that…?"

"I'm an observant girl." She sniffed haughtily. "I’ve noticed a lot about you, Daxter."

He paused. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Like how you wear the same pair of pants to class. Your ears droop when Sig berates you. You’ll bite your lip when you’re concentrating."

Dax blinked, caught unaware.

She dropped her chin to give him a reproachful look. "You've looked at my cleavage five times since the beginning of the semester. But, you also check out Ramon's ass whenever he leaves the class. So, I'm assuming you swing both ways."

The audacity! Burning heat flushed his cheeks, all the way up to the tip of his ears. He took an aggressive bite of his sandwich. "Definitely none of yer business, thank you very much!"

She shrugged, intolerably cutesy. 

Well, two could play at that game.

“So, how are you and Erol doin'?”

Keira stuffed a spoonful of rice into her mouth, completely unfazed. “Not sure what you mean.”

“Uh-uh. Yeah, right.” Dax rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure even Praxis knows ya’ll are datin’.”

“We are not together,” she scowled. 

“Preeetty sure I saw you lovebirds makin’ out in the hall last week, so…”

"So," she snapped. "We flirt sometimes. Big deal."

"Yeah but…" he wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Erol? Dude’s a major creep. Looks like he dreams of murderin’ puppies and blowin’ up orphanages!"

"He's not that bad, Daxter." Keira waved him off dismissively. "Besides, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover!"

Daxter took a bite of his sandwich, unimpressed. "Yeah, wow, never heard that before."

They ate in silence for another minute. 

Keira was clearly aggravated, but Dax didn’t really care. Stop tripping over himself at every given opportunity to piss her off? Yeah. Cuddle her? Fuck no.

Abruptly, her demeanor shifted to calm tranquility. She made direct eye contact. “Okay, but picture this: Erol and I get serious. Suddenly I’m dating Praxis’ right-hand man. Just think about the influence I’d have. I’d probably change the entire structure of this city in a week, tops.”

Eyes bugging out, Dax scooted back in fear. “Damn, girl!”

Keira smirked victoriously, and returned casually to her lunch.

Okay, Dax thought, maybe he had judged a book by its cover. That sweet looking cutie was an evil genius. 

Chapter Text

Keira didn’t bring him lunch frequently, which thank the Precursors for that, because Dax was very briefly worried he’d ended up with another Tess.
 
Keira was unique in that way and occasionally unpredictable. Sometimes Dax really felt like he’d unintentionally accumulated a little sister. At least, until he harshly reminded himself that after they graduated, there was a high possibility he’d never see her again. 

Sitting underneath the sole tree in the courtyard, Dax munched on a bag of chips he snagged from the vending machine. Keira settled down next to him on the bench, contently chewing on an apple.

Dax covertly studied her. He was overwhelmed with the curious need to know her better. But everything on his train of thought probably wouldn’t be appreciated. Like, where exactly were you when the war started? You said you lost your dad. Where do you think he is? Best to settle on something safe. “Hey, what’d you say you wanted to do when you graduate?”

Keira hummed contemplatively. “Something with tech, for sure. I’m more comfortable with computers than guns.”

Gee, what a shocker. But Dax bit down on his tongue. He was trying to be nicer, dammit!

“I’ve been hacking computer systems since I was little,” she continued on with a puff of pride. “What about you? What’s your goal?”

“Eh,” He brushed off her question, suddenly uncomfortable. He wanted to know her, not have it be a mutual exchange. “Don’t know yet. Nothin’ really peaks my interest, I guess.”

“Mhm.” Keira narrowed her eyes. “Don’t think I forgot you ignored my question last week. You don’t even want to tell me why you’re here, but-” she raised her palm before he could open his mouth. “I’ll be patient.”

Dax quickly jumped on the chance to steer the conversation away. “It’ll wear out, sweetheart. I’ll just keep saying it’s-” he shoved a handful of chips into his mouth and crunched down obnoxiously. “None ya business!”

Keira wrinkled her nose in disgust. Not dignifying him with a response, she returned to neatly munching on her apple. 

Daxter felt a twinge of guilt as he swallowed his food. If he was going to make friends outside of his sibling circle, then he needed to put himself out more. Stop retreating into his shell everytime he was poked at. Well, he could at least find a middle ground. “My brother is a lieutenant. So he’s tight buddies with Princess Praxis and your commander boyfriend.”

“Not my boyfriend,” Keira cut in.

Dax continued with a smile. “But, y’know, he’s a decade older than us, so he got a head start. And my sister overlooks the weapon factory. She worked her way up damn fast. Not only is her craftsmanship flawless, but she’s kinda batshit terrifying when she wants to be.”

Keira offered a wan smile. “Sounds like you’re part of an awesome family.”

The warm, mushy feelings were quickly doused when he remembered that she was alone. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“You’re fine!” Her smile widened into a beautiful grin. “But, don’t worry.  I’m not alone if that’s what you think. My best friend…he’s like a brother to me. I grew up with him.”

“D’aww!” Exaggeratedly, Dax lolled his head sideways and fluttered his lashes. She reached over and punched him lightly in the arm. 

They both laughed and fell into a companionable silence. 

A minute later, she smirked at him teasingly. “I hear you’ve got guard duty on the wall this weekend.”

“Ugh.” With a groan, he slumped forward. “Don’t remind me. Y’know, I think Sig rigged the system somehow. Why do I get it more than anyone in the class? It wasn’t like that last year!”

Nearly choking on her food, she hid a giggle behind her hand.
 
Turning his head, he glared at her with mock annoyance. “Oh, that’s funny, huh? You think my sufferin’ is amusin’?”

“I think,” Keira interrupted with a chortle, “you are starting to sound like a conspiracy nut.”

“Ew, you know, that’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.” But he did take a moment to consider it, and maybe Keira had a point. The decisions were up to a computer, he reminded himself. Why should Sig take the blame? The big lug was way too friendly to take the brunt of Dax’s suspicions. 

Keira’s brows abruptly creased. She twisted to face him directly. “Hey Dax,” her voice dipped, “have you ever seen anything unusual on the wall?”

Dax blinked at the question. “I guess. Why?”

She shrugged. “I’ve heard rumors. I’ve only been up there a few times, but I’ve never seen anything. You think it’s really haunted?”

“Ha, ha.” Dax rolled his eyes. “No.”

Ears perking up, she leveled him an inquisitive look. “What’s with that reaction? You don’t believe in ghosts or something?”

“Hell no,” he said firmly. “And don’t even try to tell me about some kinda insightful experience you’ve had, because I won’t believe it, and I do not care.” With an air of finality, he tipped his head back and dumped the remaining chip crumbs into his mouth.

Keira huffed. She played with the apple core between her fingers and grinned ruefully. "Heh. It's alright. Neither do I." 

-/-

The wall was truly a magnificent thing. Built with the taxpayers money on the promise to keep those dangerous Eco Users out. Too bad that didn't work out as planned. And no one would admit to it because they'd have to admit they had wasted their money. And that their dictator couldn't keep his word.

Guard duty on the wall again. He was starting to suspect it was a form of punishment, no matter what Keira said to mollify him.

At least if he were stationed out at the Drill Platform or Mines, he could’ve seen some action. Praxis might’ve cut them off from the city, but they were still a hot spot for the Channelers to sabotage due to eco still oozing out from the ground. 

Even without their eco, they still packed a punch. Turns out smuggled guns could get the job done just fine.

Another day, another battle for resources and power.

“How am I supposed to prove myself if I’m stuck up here?” Dax threw his arms out and shouted to the night sky. “It’s just me, myself, and that damn ghost-” his voice abruptly cut out.

The wind silently rustled his hair in the deafening silence.

The clogs in his mind frantically started turning as his arms lowered. The ghost. Right…

What ghost?

Ashelin’s words struck him. “What if there’s more to them than we know? What if…” 

His hand hovered around the gun at his hip.
 
“What if…” Daxter tensed up. Goosebumps burst down his arms.

Ghosts weren’t real. Why the fuck did he ever go along with that crap in the first place?

His eyes rapidly shot around, as if that purple light was just lingering in the shadows.

“Always be on your guard.” Sig’s voice dug into his brain. “Trust me. There’s a lot you don’t know.”

That purple light, illuminating the classroom, and the image of a monster.

Keira’s striking green eyes. Her lips curled as if she was hiding a secret from him. “Neither do I.”

Carefully, he stepped back, away from the edges. 

Still as a statue, Dax loitered near the elevator and waited. Maybe what he was about to do was absolutely crazy. Maybe it was his fate all along.

Like a predator waiting for the moment to pounce, he waited. 

Trying his damndest to look casual and not someone that was rapidly calculating a plan, he waited.

An hour went by. Then another.

His heartbeat fluctuated. Sometimes he would pace in a circle. Sometimes he would stand as still as a statue. 

He waited.

Then, it happened.
 
A purple light bounced at the edge of the wall. Daxter’s body tensed like a coiling snake. His hand dropped and curled to his holster. The light moved, flowing like a ghost, across the wall, toward the city. 

Adrenaline pumped in his veins. The light passed by Daxter as if he weren’t even there. Good.

His gun was out in a second. Daxter shot rapidly, blindly. He almost didn’t hear anything besides the ringing in his ears. But there it was - an unmistakable roar of pain and shock. His heart shot up into his throat. 

Gun lowering, he studied the aftermath in front of him. The light was flickering and fading, like a dying battery. With each ripple of purple, came the form of a man.
 
No, not a man, a monster. The Dark Warrior.

Daxter scrambled away, nearly tripping over his feet in his haste to escape. With one hand, he frantically fumbled for his security pass and swiped the elevator scanner. The doors slid open, but Daxter hesitated. He could only stare dumbly at the scene before him.

Gradually, the Dark Warrior’s colors became… vibrant. Grays and whites were washed over with greens and yellows. It was as if a switch had been flipped. The claws and horns disappeared, leaving only an ordinary boy behind. Huh.

Gun shaking in his grasp, he slowly aimed his weapon again. The boy twitched before going deathly still. Even from a distance, Dax could see red stains blooming in various places, bleeding through a blue tunic. 

Arms tense as wires, Dax shuffled over. He kicked at the boy’s leg before just as quickly retreating a few feet back. There was a weak groan, but no movement. He appeared to be completely unconscious. 

“Down for the count…” Dax muttered aloud to soothe his frayed nerves, “K.O.”

Carefully holding his gun away at a safe angle, Dax tentatively knelt down next to the boy… monster… whatever he was. “Wow, I got you real good.” 

Sparks of purple lightning danced over his wounds. Dax knew from class that they were sealing up. But as long as the beast remained asleep, it wouldn’t be an issue for the time being. It would be someone else’s problem.

Fear drained from him. With a trembling sigh, he dropped his head as if it weighed a million pounds. Then with a whoop of joy, he bounced up, pumping his fist into the air. “I did it! I can’t believe I actually did it!” He struck multiple poses victoriously 

“Daxternator one! Dork Warrior big, fat zeeeero!”

Chuckles fading away, Dax regarded the unconscious man with lingering smugness. This is what he needed. This would change everything for the better. He would be hailed as a hero by the entire city! Now, all he had to do was…

What exactly? 

Dax risked a panicked glance at the gigantic palace looming over the city. Drop off a teenager’s limp body and wait for the applause? He’d be an even greater failure than before and there’d be no chance for redemption. 

Wheezing harshly, he stared down at tan skin and green-blonde hair... “Change back.” He dropped to his knees and smacked the boy’s cheeks lightly. “Change back!”

No response. Not even a flutter of eyelashes. Fuck.

Daxter yanked at his hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

Thoughts racing, his face contorted with deadly irate. “Y’know what? You’ll wake up eventually...” Clawing his fingers into the small, tattered cloak wrapped around broad shoulders, he gave a harsh shake, causing the blonde’s head to smack against the ground. “And when you do, you’ll change back.” He peeled his eyes away to grab the set of handcuffs hanging from his belt. “Yeah… and they’ll give me credit. I’ll make ‘em give me credit, yessire-”

He barely had time to release a gurgling gasp. Thick fingers wrapped around his throat in a constricting grip. The handcuffs fell to the ground with a clatter. His hand instinctively tightened around his gun.

Dax couldn’t breathe. Horrified, he stared into feral blue irises surrounded in obsidian. The boy smoothly stood up, bringing Dax with him. His feet dangled several inches off the ground as he was pulled up to the other’s level. Their noses barely brushed. 

“You let your guard down,” he hissed between sharpening teeth. Breath, hot and acidic, fanned against Dax’s face. 

Unable to form a response, Dax could only whimper and grunt. He tried fruitlessly to claw at the hand wrapped around his neck to no avail. On impulse, Dax tried to angle his weapon, but it was easily yanked away. For a horrifying moment, he thought he’d be shot, but the gun was never raised against him. 

In a last ditch effort, Dax tried kneeing him, but they were already on the move. The other advanced toward the elevator, dragging Dax along with him. As soon as the doors closed, the grip on his throat released.  The immediate shimmer of hope was crushed, as instead, a strong arm wrapped around his torso, pressing him back into a muscular chest.  

The second the elevator hissed and began its journey downward did he feel the gun settle against the side of his head. In an eruption of motion, Dax struggled to free himself, even with nowhere to flee. The arm trapped around him only tightened, nearly suffocating him. “Please,” he begged, “Please, please, don’t kill me, please-”

“Shut up.” The compressing grip around him loosened marginally, allowing him to gulp in air. “No one is going to kill you.”

“Wh-What?”

“You’re my ticket out of here.” 

Dax cocked his head up at an angle, trying to get a good look at the man - who, for whatever reason, was not transforming into a monster and tearing him limb from limb. He seemed to be stuck somewhere in between. Horns barely poked out from green roots. Sharp black fingernails instead of wicked claws. Purple sparks sporadically whipped around him, occasionally stinging Dax’s pale skin. 

Struggling once more in a pointless endeavor, Dax felt his heart constrict painfully. Vision going blurry with unshed tears, Dax slumped over his captor’s arm. With an inaudible whimper, he let his limbs go limp - but strong muscles merely shifted effortlessly, denying him from falling.

“You fucked up,” came the unexpected frustrated hiss. It almost sounded like the bastard was grumbling to himself. “You were never supposed to-”

The elevator thumped to a halt. The doors began to slide open. Dax’s head wrenched up. He inhaled deeply, ready to scream his lungs out. 

In an explosion of dark energy, Dax’s entire body unexpectedly fell numb. His body didn’t respond to a single demand. His voice failed him, leaving him a gasping mess in the shock wave. In his peripheral vision he could see elongated claws attached to a gray hand, barely able to remain wrapped around his handgun. 

Two guards were lingering near the guardhouse. They immediately froze when they spotted their greatest threat. 

The gun dug deeper into his scalp. “Don’t move!” The demand came in a guttural roar. Purple lightning cracked the ground, leaving burn marks. Daxter’s back was on fire. “Don’t move or I’ll kill him.”

The guards hesitated, clearly torn on what to do. They were clearly shocked to see the Dark Warrior as much as he had been. 

Daxter’s feet stumbled as he kept up with his captor’s pace. They circled around and began to back away. 

Now, Dax was infamously terrible at remembering names. He just didn’t care to, not unless the person truly mattered to him. But he knew these guards, even hidden behind their faceplates. One had jokingly offered an exorcist if Dax came back from the wall with any unwanted passengers. The other had playfully grabbed him in a headlock until he cried uncle. A small, hopeful smile twitched at his lips as he watched their guns lower. He trusted them to somehow get him out of this situation. 

The guards surreptitiously glanced at each other. They both nodded.

It was the oddest thing, but at that moment, everything happened in slow motion. Like he was watching the scene unfold out from outside his body.  

The arm around him tightened, suddenly shifting to hold him instead of confining him. 

Daxter’s eyes widened in horror just as their rifles snapped up. His ears rang with the cacophony of gunfire. His entire world twisted and all he could do was clench his eyes shut with a panicked shout. 

A brief burn sliced his side, like a hot knife cutting through his shirt. He hissed, but didn't twitch a muscle out of petrifying terror.

Everything was so chaotic, all he could do was just breathe and realize he was still alive. His body was brutally spun around until his face was suddenly tucked into a secure makeshift hug.

He was moving, or more accurately, they were moving. He cracked open an eye and saw the city rushing past him in a blur. 

Belatedly, he registered that his feet were dangling off the ground and that he was holding on tight to his captor. 

Once his brain caught up to the fact they were running away from the threat, he efficiently tightened his arms around that solid neck and ensured his legs were out of the way. Anything to get as far away from the KG as possible.
 
The one holding him sprinted further into the city, running faster than any human should be capable of. Faintly, Dax could hear the sector alarm go off, and a shudder ran down his back. He buried his face into a jostling shoulder and ignored the world. 

They were cutting in between buildings now, safe from any prying eyes. He didn’t bother piping in - it was clear the other knew where they were going. At one point, they were airborne, leaping from the ground. The grasp around him shifted, and the redhead realized he was being cradled somehow, in one arm. The show of power made his stomach drop. Deadly claws snagged into the side of a building as he crawled his way up. They leaped across a few rooftops before they began their descent down. 

Tucked into a crevice, where two buildings met awkwardly, they adeptly hid behind a few trash cans. 

The alarm continued to sound off, alerting all the citizens to either hide or get the fuck out of the way while the KG scattered, searching for the threat.

Hidden in the dark, Dax focused on his breathing. In and out. Slowly. Count to ten. Repeat.

He practically slumped over with relief when the alarms finally cut out and the world was consumed with silence. 

Chin dipped low to his chest, he didn’t see the demon beside him transform back to normal. But he did feel it - the absence of smoldering heat and buzzing energy. His eyes snapped open but he didn’t dare move. 

"Here." The gun was held out to him.

Startled, Dax shot an incredulous look between the weapon and tired blue eyes. "Uh, yer really givin’ that to me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." The response dripped with sarcasm. "Did you want to shoot me some more?"

"...No." Meekly, Dax plucked his pistol back and holstered it. He tried to convince himself it wasn't guilt forcing his eyes to dip away.

He stared blankly at the ground. His brain nothing but a static void. He didn't know what to think anymore-

"Damn," the soft exhale pulled him back into reality, "you're bleeding."

A hysterical laugh escaped his throat before he could rein it in. "I'm bleedin'?! You should take a look in the mirror, pal! Ya look like ya took a bloodbath!" 

There was nothing to be said to that. The blonde simply leveled an exhausted stare at him, bags obvious beneath his eyes.

Lip wobbling, Dax's face crumbled for a moment. He steeled himself before he peered down to examine the damage. It wasn't too bad, he convinced himself. A stray bullet had cut through his shirt, leaving a punctured neat line behind. The crimson liquid blended quite nicely into his red tunic. Now that he was aware of the wound, it burned like hell. Good. Dax was grateful for something sane to focus on. Was it worth going to the ER over? Definitely not worth the bill. Maybe Urgent Care would be the better option, but it would suck if they just sent him to the hospital anyway. Wait, were they even open?-

“Sorry.”

Dax flinched. Reluctantly, he looked up. "Huh?"

“I’m sorry.” His voice raised a bit and Dax wanted to laugh again even though there was nothing funny about the situation. The guy he practically turned into swiss cheese wanted to apologize to him? The guy that held him hostage just a few minutes ago?
However, there was something so sickeningly sincere in his voice that made Dax’s throat close up. Against his better judgment, he kept his mouth shut and listened.

“The dark eco, it isn’t…” With frustration, he held up his free hand and curled his fingers. “I would have never-” Sharp fingernails cut deep into his palm in a sudden trembling fist. He met Dax’s eyes again.  The redhead sucked in a breath. How could someone be such an open book? He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had been this vulnerable with him. “I didn’t think they’d actually shoot you. I’m sorry.”

Something brushed against his side. He abruptly realized that the other’s arm was still wrapped around him. He had never let go and Daxter hadn’t even noticed. Curling his knees up and twiddling his fingers atop them, Dax sank into his side. Because it was warm. Because he could.

“Y’know what the saddest part is?” Dax’s voice clogged up and he curtly cleared his throat. “Neither did I.”
 
His heart ached, right along with the open gash in his side. 

And Daxter didn’t know what to think about the boy settled cozy beside him.

A beast into a prince. A captor turned rescuer. 

What the hell was he supposed to think?

Twin pools of blue connected.

Daxter curiously titled his head to the side. The other mimicked him. Slammed with deja-vu, his eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, have we… met?”

Shockingly, the blonde rolled his eyes. Broad shoulders shook with a breathless laugh.

Daxter was released from the warm hold. Abrupt coldness sunk into his skin, but he couldn’t stop staring at the man looming over him. His back was soaked in blood.

A hood snapped up, hiding green-blonde hair. He regarded Dax once more. “I dunno what I would’ve done without you, Daxter.” A coy smile curled at the corner of his lips. “But I already thanked you, even without my voice.”

Collapsing back, Dax barely caught himself on his palms. Memories flooded over him, released from the edges of his dreams. It took once, twice, to find his voice - but the name came easily. “Jak?”

He was alone.

-/-

The moon hovered brightly in the sky, illuminating the path.

Daxter’s entire body burned. His heart nearly pounded out of his chest - but he didn’t stop. The pain in his side pulsed with each gasping breath.

His feet carried him home at a speed he didn’t even know he possessed. Tess had once affectionately called him Orange Lightning and he was owning up to that name. 

His zoomer remained at the border, not even considered. The now officially stolen utility belt still hung on his hip. Without their goods returned and his status MIA -or more accurately kidnapped by the Dark Warrior- there was a good fucking chance they’d send a troop after him. But Daxter didn’t think about that. All possible consequences would have to be put on the back burner as he slammed through his front door.
 
No one was awake. Good.
 
He practically crashed down the stairs and slid into his dim little room. Weaseling under his futon, he pulled out an old shoe box. 

Inside was every little keepsake he managed to collect over the years. Nimble fingers quickly shuffled through. Birthday card from Tess, birthday card from Tess, Osmo’s old business card, goggles that no longer fit, birthday card from Torn- there! A glimmering little stone. Like ice reserved for eternity, unable to melt.

Fingers shaking, Dax cradled it in his palm. Once, he had considered pawning it for money, but had ultimately decided his unique, brief friendship had been more important. Whooshing out a trembling sigh, he was very grateful for his decision.

Now what?

Limbs going weak, he sat heavily on the futon. With a hitched sob, he finally let the hot tears run down his cheeks. The white crystal caught tightly in his clenched fist. 

Fuck, now what? 

Chapter Text

Reality was a bitch Daxter was unwillingly becoming acquainted with. 

Hiding in his room would do no good. They would eventually come for him - there was no escape from that. And he was manly enough to face his demise on his own terms… As long as he kept telling himself that, it could possibly end up being true. 

So, with a nauseatingly clenched stomach, he dumped as many painkillers down his throat as possible and embarked on the terrifying journey back to the guardhouse. He had no idea what time it was anymore. Could’ve been three in the morning for all he knew. 

The streets were empty, leaving him alone in his empty, buzzing mind. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t. Because if he did, he would inevitably collapse into a mental breakdown, and a panic attack was the last thing he needed. They were rare but extreme, usually resulting in a black-out. He couldn’t risk it right now.

Strangely enough, the moment he stepped into that claustrophobic building, his limbs stopped shaking. A mask of painful neutrality fell over him. The only remainder of his anxiety was his heart hammering double-time in his chest. He was hidden, he was safe. 

No one was behind the desk. His supervisor was standing in the far corner, conversing with a Guard. Simultaneously, they cut off and turned to him. 

Dax stood perfectly still as his supervisor surged forward. He didn’t even flinch when his shoulders were caught in a piercing grip. 

“Where is he?”

Dax blinked owlishly and remained silent. 

“That freak,” his shoulders were harshly jostled. “Where is he, Daxter?”

“He got away.” The lie slid out of his mouth, shockingly smooth. Deliberately, he twisted to show off the wound in his side. "I didn't mean to take so long gettin' back..."

Neither of them commented on his injury. More importantly, neither of them commented on the fact it was not deep scratches marking his skin. 

"He let you go?" The Guard loitering in the back asked dubiously.

"No." Dax gritted out between clenched teeth. "I said he got away." He narrowed his eyes, giving the Guard a steely look. 

Armored fingers clenched around the large gun. The same gun he had shot at Dax with.

Fear clashed with outrage. He wasn't safe here.
 
His supervisor released him with an aggravated sigh. "Where?"

"Uh, towards the stadium." In the opposite direction Jak had actually let him go. Hopefully that would let the trail go cold.

No sooner were the words out of his mouth that the Guard stomped past him, frantically spewing orders into his radio.

"Do you want me back on duty?" Dax asked nonchalantly, noticeably shifting his hip. “Cause I should probably get this looked at.”

"No," His supervisor responded curtly. He dug behind the desk and fished out a tablet. "Return your belt. You'll be filing a report. Make sure to keep to the point. Praxis has little time and patience."

"Praxis?" Dax's voice quavered with uncertainty, but he obediently accepted the tablet.

"Of course. What’d you expect?" An incredulous look was leveled at him. 

“What… about my injury? It burns-”

He was ushered into the backroom. It was practically the size of a closet, with only a singular workstation.

“You can worry about that later,” the man said with failing patience. “This takes priority.”

“Okay, but… do you have any bandages at least? An ice pack?”

The door was slammed in his face. Alrighty then.

As soon he collapsed into the chair, his hands began to tremble. His legs bounced with anxious energy. Whatever bravado he had managed to muster up crumbled in a millisecond. The inside of his mind swarmed like a hive of chaotic bees, rendering him helpless to type out a single word. 

Dammit all, he didn’t want to be in this enclosed room, filling out a dumb fuck report for anybody, let alone his esteemed ruler. He wanted… He wanted to be with-

He dropped his face into his palms, suppressing the sudden urge to vomit.

-/-

The week passed in a blur. 

He attended class, of course, but didn’t retain any of the information. He couldn’t even recall what the lesson had been about. Did it even matter?

They had gone to the shooting range for combat training, and Dax had simply gone through the notions, all without a remark or snide comment. Take the gun, put on ear protection, shoot the targets, put the gun away, go home. 

No one cared, of course. Keira and Sig certainly noticed, but hadn’t said a word to him.

Daxter had taken one side-eyed look at Keira, at the way she studied him, a slight inquisitive crease in her eyebrows - before he turned away, retreating into the dull roar inside his head.

Sig practically hovered at the gun range. He had too much of an image to actually show concern, but made up for it with a barrage of praise and compliments. He even tried to give an encouraging ruffle to gold-red hair, which Dax promptly ducked away from on his way out the door. 

That left days stuck down in the basement, all alone.
 
Daxter curled on his futon, staring at the strange crystal settled in his palm with drab eyes. 

His ears perked at the telltale sound of someone coming down the steps. He had developed sharp ears - not only as a kid living on the streets but as a paranoid pubescent boy living with other people. Quickly hiding the stone under his pillow, he stared firmly at the wall.

The subtle creaking ceased, and he waited until the rustle of socked feet went quiet. He glanced up.

Tess smiled gently and held up a plate with a couple slices of pizza. “Figured you didn’t want to cook tonight, so I got delivery.”

Dax’s lips twitched before he let his head flop back down. “Pass.”

Without further ado, she stepped into his room. “Are you sure?” There was a playful lilt in her voice. With a wave of her hand, she redirected the fumes in his direction. “Not hungry at all?”

It did smell sinfully good, and he couldn’t remember the last time he ate. His mouth salivated. Trying to glare at her, he failed as a huge grin spread across his face. “Yeah, yeah. Fine. Maybe a little.”

His stomach growled audibly, causing her ears to twitch. Choosing wisely not to say anything, she placed the plate into his lap and sat down next to him. “How’s your wound? Need me to redress it?” Her dainty fingers tenderly hovered near his side.

He shifted away, and she immediately retreated. “S’fine. It’s startin’ to scab over anyway.”

Tess had been a frantic mess when the hospital called her. Dax had begged them not to, but it was mandatory or some bullshit. Torn and Tess were his only emergency contacts, and Torn had been too busy with work to pick him up. Tess, on the other hand… She had made it to the hospital in record time, all responsibilities be damned. After informing him they had contacted his sister, one of the nurses alarmingly asked him if he was willing to confide about an abusive situation, given the horror on his face. They just hadn’t realized the mother hen they had released. 

(It was hilarious in hindsight.)

Unsurprisingly, Torn had checked on him to assess the damage. It wasn’t the first time Dax had stitches, so of course his brother had merely nodded and gave him space.

However, Tess just loved having an excuse to baby him and she played nurse whenever she had the time.  

Daxter appreciated the concern and distraction. But…

“I know why yer here.” Playing with the crust, he didn’t look up. “Let’s just rip off the metaphorical bandaid.”

She sighed, “I hate seeing you like this, honey.” The words spilled from her mouth a little too quickly, obviously rehearsed. Her painted nails gently settled on his shoulder. “You know you can tell me anything.”

That was true. 

Tess had been there from the start, unapologetically supportive and caring. Admittedly, maybe a bit too much. When they had first met, all she had seen was a baby stray rat, ready for pampering and smothering affection. And Daxter, touch-starved and desperate for love, had enabled it. 

With all the crazy bullshit going on, it would be a good idea to confide in someone. Get it all off his chest and stop bottling it up. And who better than Tess?

He turned to her, mouth open - and choked. All he could see were those tattoos carved into her face. Caring blue eyes behind those markings and everything they represented.

He turned away again, shoulders drooping. “Maybe later, babe.”

A small huff escaped her lips. “That’s alright. I’m here for you anytime!” Leaning in, she kissed his cheek enthusiastically. In turn, he scrunched up his face, playing the bit.

She lingered, ensuring he took a few bites of food. However, in the doorway, she paused. "Oh! And sweetheart?"

Dax's ears lifted. "Hm?"

"Please take a shower. And get some fresh air. You're starting to look like a ghost."

He chuckled mirthlessly. Unbeknownst to her, his stomach contracted queasily. "Sure thing, cupcake."

-/-

Dax did what Tess requested. Even if he wasn’t really feeling up to it. The older he got, the more he pushed her way. But at the end of the day, he loved her more than anyone. And he occasionally fretted he wasn’t showing her enough gratitude for, y’know, practically raising him. 

Besides, she ended up being completely right. The shower had refreshed his spirit. The food energized him. And breathing in crisp air compared to the musty basement really helped open his mind. 

Unfortunately, that meant he was starting to accept certain notions he'd been putting off.

Headphones snug atop his head, Dax hummed to his favorite tunes as he strolled into the shopping district. More accurately, where all the food stands were stationed.
 
The wound in his side was barely an inconvenience, more itchy than painful. The small white crystal nestled in his pocket. He rustled his hand down just so he could play with it between his fingers. It sent a pleasant chill up his hand. 

Now that he had time to actually think, he decided the next best course was to… take several steps back. Dax internally nodded to himself, as wise as could be. If he couldn’t disclose his feelings with his sister then that meant nobody at all. And, hey! That’s what sucked about not having any friends! And the only people he did have representing the government. Oh well!

The music blared loud in his ears, and he couldn’t resist doing a little slide across the sidewalk.

What would he say anyway? Dax sighed ruefully. Hey, my very first friend just showed up right the fuck outta nowhere almost a decade later, and surprise! He’s my worst enemy! The strongest Eco User in supposed history! Ha, ha. I’ve had nightmares about this guy. A pang went through him. He stopped briefly to pinch the bridge of his nose. And can ya believe I almost killed him? Aint that great? Anyway, what’s for lunch?

Fuck that. Dax released all the negativity with one heaving sigh. “I’ll take it to my damn grave if I hafta.”

A bypasser lifted an eyebrow. 

Dax beamed and waved before continuing on his way. 

There was more to it, now, though. As complicated as it was… Dax didn’t know if he could go through with being a Krimzon Guard anymore. 

Anxiety clenched his chest in one great agonizing punch. 

Tess said she would be proud of him no matter what. All he could do was take her word. Torn had been right. He could do anything he wanted to! Hell, he could go back to being an exterminator, that had been kinda fun! It didn’t matter that he would never live up to his siblings reputation, never be as talented or important as them, never see Sig again or Keira-

His vision tunneled. He stumbled and leaned back against the nearest wall. The music was suddenly too overwhelming for his brain. He yanked the headphones off and let them curl around his neck. 

With a swift click, he turned the music player off and finally released the crystal. Raising both hands, he scrubbed his face harshly.

Food. He came here for food.

Dax rolled his shoulders and approached the market. 

Everything was fine. Absolutely fucking fine.

Dully, his eyes scanned over all the variety of options. Too greasy, too greasy, not in the mood, too expensive, green-blonde hair, too expensive, wait-

Stiffening, Dax did a double-take. 

No, that… that was Jak, with absolute certainty. The same hair just tied in a ponytail, the same body, even the same damn blue tunic. It was him, standing in broad daylight, casually leaning against the counter of a smoothie stand. Dax couldn’t see his face, but the owner was smiling, obviously making pleasant conversation with him.

What the fuck?

Ears twitching sporadically, Dax stood like a dumbass in the middle of the market. The world around him had gone silent. 

Before he realized what was happening, his body had already made the decision to advance forward. His brain quickly caught up, screaming at him to turn back, but it was too late to stop.

Practically crashing into the counter, the momentum briefly had him bouncing into Jak’s side. 

The owner paused, sending him a quizzical glance. 

Flinching away, Jak opened his mouth - and promptly closed it. Rage transformed from confusion straight to recognition. He stood perfectly still, cautiously staring at Dax.

“Sorry I’m late!” Dax waved his hand around. “You would not believe the traffic! I tried lookin’ for you, but y’know…” He shrugged and grinned charmingly at the owner. “Blind dates, am I right?”

The smoothie-maker sent Jak an intriguing look, a smile curling at the edge of his lips.

Dax subtly narrowed his eyes. Say something…

"Yeah," Jak spoke slowly and cleared his throat. "Yeah, uh- sorry I didn't wait. I thought you ditched." 

Dax winked. "I'll have whatever he's havin’."

The owner tapped at the screen on his register. "Separate checks or...?"

"Add it to my tab," Jak grunted. 

Against his will, Dax’s grin widened, almost laughing at the grumpy tone.

The large smoothies were placed in front of them. They took the offered straws. "Good luck," the man said while handing over the receipt. "I definitely don't miss those days."

Simultaneously, Jak and Dax forced themselves to laugh awkwardly, and turned on their heels.

In unspoken agreement, they sat at a nearby table, perfect for two. They sat across from each other, the tension thick. Not really making eye contact, they instead busied themselves with their drinks. To anyone else, they really did look like two nervous strangers on their first date - or whatever the fuck Dax had thought up on the fly.

"So," Dax bit the bullet casually. "What the hell are you doin’ here?"

After taking a large sip, Jak shrugged nonchalantly. "Enjoying a smoothie."

"You know what I meant, smartass."

“Actually, I don’t.” Jak’s voice lowered. He dipped his chin to deepen his glower. “I came here for food. So what? I think the bigger question is what are you doing here?”

Dax’s heart skipped a beat. Whatever confrontational remark he had was hastily swallowed. He fidgeted with his straw anxiously. “I…I was going for a walk. I figured I’d get a bite to eat and then I saw you, and I dunno what came over me-”

“Let me rephrase that,” Jak interrupted. “What do you want, Daxter?”

The sound of his name sent a chill down his spine. For a moment, he liked it. “I…” Dax stammered, lost for words. He had so much to say, he didn’t even know where to begin. “I want… to know the truth. That’s all. I need to know who you are. I mean, heh, I didn’t even recognize you.”

Sighing through his nose, Jak straightened. Some of the overbearing tension had melted away. “Yeah,” he mumbled, meticulously studying his styrofoam cup. “I get that. I probably wouldn’t have recognized you either.”

As a distraction, Dax took a drink, allowing himself to enjoy the sweet fruity flavor. His palms were sweating. “So, uh, now that we agree there’s some catchin’ up to do, can we play twenty questions or somethin’?”

Jak winced. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not have this conversation out in the open.”

Dax looked around, searching for any possible prying eyes, and Jak quickly leaned over the table with a hiss, “Stop that!”

Flinching away, Dax’s ears flagged and pressed against the side of his head.

Jak rubbed at his forehead. “Maybe this was a mistake. You’re drawing attention to me and I can’t…” Finishing off the rest of his smoothie, his chair slid back. “I’m glad I saw you again, Daxter. Really. But I think-”

“No! Wait!” Reaching out, Dax wrapped his hand around Jak’s wrist. The blonde startled and regarded Dax warily. But, he didn’t shake him off, and Dax seized his one and only chance. “Please, just listen to me.” He tugged slightly until Jak reluctantly sat back down. Being vulnerable sucked, but in this case it was necessary. “I haven’t been doing well this past week, Jak. I keep thinkin’ these terrible things and I feel like I’m always on the brink of losin’ it. I need to talk to ya. I need to know what’s going on, or I’m worried I’ll-” Dax released a trembling sigh, “I’m scared, alright?”

Jak didn’t respond, but the wariness was replaced with something akin to consideration. Thank the Precursors, he was actually listening. 

Surged with the familiar need to prove himself, Dax dug into his pocket and held out the white crystal. “See? I still got that cool rock ya gave me!”

Blue eyes widened and suddenly big hands slammed on top of his, concealing it from view. Dax blinked and lifted an eyebrow. For whatever reason, Jak didn’t seem too pleased about it, rather he looked horrified. He scanned the area, all without moving his head. 

“Put that away, now.” Jak growled between his teeth. Forcibly, he curled Dax’s fingers over the rock and stood up. Before Dax could panic and make a fool of himself again, Jak inclined his head in invitation. “C’mon.”

“Oh. Okay…” He’d have time to ask questions later. Dax pocketed the crystal again and finished his smoothie as quickly as possible. 

Stopping to dump their trash away, he couldn’t resist glancing over at the owner of the stand. The man, quite obviously watching them, held a thumbs up.

Awkwardly, Dax grinned and returned the action. 

They left the shopping district together, heading out of the Bazaar. Daxter struggled to keep up with Jak’s longer strides. 

“You said you walked?” Jak asked over his shoulder.

“Yup.”

“Good. We’ll take my zoomer.”

“Mind tellin’ me where we’re goin’?”

“Somewhere safe. Somewhere hidden. No one knows about it.”

Dax was slightly stunned, and admittedly a bit afraid of that kind of responsibility. “And you’d trust me with it?”

Faltering to a stop, Jak turned and regarded Dax seriously. “I figured if you wanted to kill me, you would’ve done it by now. And…” Avoiding eye contact, Jak found something interesting to look at around Dax’s shoulder. “I’m glad you kept that,” he admitted quietly. “All these years. Part of me was afraid you’d thrown it away or… forgotten.”

Warmth blossomed inside his chest, spreading up his neck. He had never felt like this before, it was so unprecedented. All he knew, at that moment, was that he liked it. A lot. He smirked. “You? Forgettable? Hell no.” What kind of mushy bullshit was that? The heat traveled up to his cheeks. Since when did he talk like that?

But Jak met his eyes again, and smiled. Dax decided he liked that a whole lot, too. Even if it meant embarrassing himself.

Brushing the moment away, they continued on to Jak’s parked zoomer. A one-seater to be exact. Dax gulped nervously once he realized the connotations. Jak swung onto it without a care in the world, twisting the key into the ignition. 

Jak sent the redhead an anticipatory glance. 

“Uh…” Dax rubbed the back of his neck. “Are ya sure yer okay with this? I mean, y’know,” he gestured uselessly,  “gettin’ the stuffin’ squeezed outta ya?”

A surprised laugh escaped Jak, soft and endearing. “It’s fine. Better than falling off and breaking your neck, right?”

“I suppose,” Dax sighed dramatically to cover up his apprehension, and threw his leg over the machine. “Much appreciated, buddy.”

He wrapped his arms around Jak's waist and nestled in close. A warm blush crept up his cheeks again. That was becoming disturbingly persistent.
 
"Still okay?" He asked as he tucked his chin into the blonde’s shoulder. 

Jak sighed, "For now." And they were speeding off. 

Dax felt his stomach drop as they jumped hover zones.  Half an hour later he recognized the Slums. He frowned, tensing up again. Why here? This wasn’t exactly the safest place in the city.

The zoomer lowered near the entrance of an alleyway, and all the alarms inside his head were going off. Everything's a-okay, he reminded himself as he followed Jak into the dark alley. Jak had mentioned it was hidden and such secrets occasionally entailed a bit of creepiness. 

They turned the corner. Dax peeked prudently behind Jak’s back, not sure what to expect- and was met with a blank wall. 

“Oh wow.” Dax crossed his arms. “I am so impressed.”

“Just wait,” Jak insisted with a touch of exasperation. He placed a palm on the wall and pushed in a particular block. 

The now obviously hidden door slid up, revealing a set of stairs going into the ground. It was pitch black, even when Dax squinted to force his eyes to adjust. 

Without delay, Jak descended the steps. It might as well have gone straight to Hell for all the uneasiness Dax was feeling. His feet were stuck, unable to budge, even when the blonde turned back to him. 

Maybe his nervousness was more than obvious because Jak’s expression softened with sympathy. “It’s okay.” He reassured softly and held out his hand. “Do you trust me?”

Dax’s own hand reflexively rose before he hesitated, rubbing his fingers together. He chewed lightly on his bottom lip. Was it crazy to trust a guy that could hulk out into a raging monster at a moment's notice? Abso-fucking-lutely. But, truth be told, he wasn’t really thinking about that. All he could feel was the phantom sensation of Jak’s strong arm wrapped around him, shifting from confining to protective, and a solid bulk taking the brunt of unexpected gunfire.

“Yeah,” Dax said and placed his hand into Jak’s. “I do.”

Jak’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. That same warmth from before eased some of his nerves, at least to give him the final push to finally take the first step down the stairs.

The door slid closed behind him, enveloping him in darkness. No going back now.

Chapter Text

Before they went through the second door, Jak released a sharp whistle. It echoed throughout the bunker.

Daxter gripped the fingers he held as they entered complete darkness. There was a brief reciprocal squeeze back. They walked for what felt like forever. He kept expecting them to slow down and grew more concerned by the second. Exactly how big was this room? 

Finally, Jak stopped and guided him to sit on the floor. The icy chill of the metal floor stung the back of his thighs.

“I’ll be right back,” Jak reassured as he pulled away, leaving the redhead alone in the dark. 

Dax hugged himself, ears flicking rapidly. He was quickly beginning to regret this. Internally, he reprimanded whatever mushy bullshit had possessed him to think this was a good idea. 

There was a resounding clank and hiss. His heart stuttered with panic. Dax waited for an apprehensive moment and his eyes zeroed on a sudden ember glow. The soft fire grew brighter, allowing his vision to adjust to see Jak crouching in front of an open furnace. Ah. Dax wiggled closer, trying to soak up the comforting warmth. 

Jak met his eyes for a moment before turning and digging into a cooler in the corner. "Here." He placed a bottle near his knee.

"Ah beer," Dax sighed dreamily. "My one way ticket out of Awkwardville."

Jak huffed a soft laugh. “I wouldn’t bet on that just yet.” 

Dutifully, he held out his drink as Jak popped the caps off with a bottle opener. He awkwardly kept it aloft until Jak took a seat across from him and clinked their bottles together. They both took an obligatory sip. 

For a minute, they simply stared at each other. The orange glow from the fire highlighted their tense faces. The silence stretched like a tight wire - each waiting for the other to snap. Jak inadvertently broke it when his dark eyes trailed down Dax's chest.

"You checkin' me out?" Dax asked coolly. He ignored the seed of intrusive hope.

Jak winced, and diverted his gaze. "No. How's your wound?"

"Oh. My lil boo-boo?" Dax waved his hand, eager to brush off the concern. "S'fine. Practically gone."

With no choice but to take his word for it, Jak nodded. "Good. I have something that would've helped."

He took another swig of beer. "Yeah? Yer one to talk. Last I saw you, you were on death's doorstep. What the hell happened?"

Dax could tell Jak was struggling not to raise an incredulous eyebrow. “Eco,” he said candidly, as if that explained everything. 

“Right… yer tellin’ me that sparkly ooze just wiped all the hurt away? Like a magic eraser?”

“If you want to put it that way, yeah.”

The simple statement almost felt like an insult. 

Dax felt conflicted to say the least. On one hand, it was great that he hadn’t killed his childhood friend. An entire tonne of guilt had been lifted off his shoulders. On the other hand, the running gag of referring to eco as magic officially felt sour. Because… that’s all it really was, wasn’t it? Fuck whatever science or biology was behind it. Daxter had seen eco seal up the Dark Warrior’s wounds, sure, but to this extent? Could eco really do anything? If so- his heart sank to his stomach in perturbation. Why didn’t the Channelers just win the war? Had Ashelin been right before? 

The question gnawed on his brain like an insistent pest. The idea of just asking Jak was thrown out the window. Even Dax had enough restraint and common sense to know that wasn’t a hot idea.

“Eco can just do that?” he asked in a small voice instead.

Jak shrugged. “Some. Not all.”

Before Dax could really contemplate that, Jak’s expression abruptly darkened. “You sure do have some interesting friends though. Really had your back, huh?”

Bitterness stabbed him in the gut. “You think I haven't been re-analyzing my life choices, buddy? Get off my dick.” Jak's face pinched, but Daxter felt another fire pulse of anger. “And who put me in that position in the first place, huh? Huh?”

“Hey. You shot me. I didn't know what else to do.”

Dax rolled his eyes.

“I mean it,” Jak insisted. “I couldn't transform. All the eco stored inside was keeping me alive. I told you I didn't think they'd actually shoot you.” 

Daxter's lips twisted in a disgruntled grimace. “And I told you I didn’t either, so…” he trailed off with a scowl. Unable to meet Jak’s eyes, he glared at the floor. “They're not my friends. Not anymore.”

“So why the hell are you trying to join them?” 

There was something in Jak's voice. Something Dax couldn't place. Curiosity? Judgment? Jealousy? His lungs constricted. “I… I dunno. What else was I supposed to do?”

“You could be anything-”

“Don't talk to me like I'm some… some kid, alright? That motivational poster shit will only get you so far. We're in the middle of a fuckin’ war. I didn't exactly have a lot of options, you know. It was either make my life mean something or just be a nobody on the street.” The inferno rose and his mouth turned on auto-pilot. “I feel like I've been judged by every damn person in my life! Oh Dax, you can just be this or oh, you aren't ready yet! I'm sick of it! I want to do this and it felt like I was really fuckin’ good at it too! Why doesn’t anyone just get it-”

“I get it.”

Daxter faltered. “What?”

“You want to feel important. Appreciated. You see everyone around you accomplishing great things and you feel inadequate. You feel inferior. I get it.” Blue eyes glowed with both sympathy and intensity. 

“What do you know?” Dax hissed. Seeded jealousy sprouted and grew. “You and yer magic. You can do things I’ve only imagined. How the hell are you inferior to anybody?”

Jak bared his teeth. Fingers clenched around his beer bottle and he took a moment to carefully set it aside. 

Dax had clearly struck a nerve, and he immediately regretted it. What the hell was he doing? 

Before he could hack out a half-assed apology, Jak’s darkening eyes suddenly bore into his own. “Have you ever wondered why I’m the only Dark Warrior?”

He had expected the blonde to fly into a rage, but his words were so calm. Dax took a moment to consider it. “I… guess not. No.”

“It’s because I volunteered for it. They wanted a weapon and I volunteered.”

Dax’s eyes went wide. He swallowed heavily. 

“So yeah, I get it. You’re right. We are in the middle of a war. You and I... we both want to prove ourselves.”

“Should I send you my therapy bill?” He whispered, his mouth alarmingly dry.
 
The heated tension broke. Jak chuckled weakly, “Why are you so surprised?”

“Cause…I never thought we’d be the same, but-” Starstruck, Dax simply gawked at Jak. It was such an odd sensation to meet a matching puzzle piece. To find someone who really understood him. Maybe it was just the alcohol in his blood making him think such sappy things. Making him feel so careless. But, were they the same? “It doesn't matter. At the end of the day… we’re enemies.” Dax leaned forward, heart clenching inside his chest.

Jak also shifted marginally until they were inches apart. “We were friends first.”

Distracted by the orange glow in those blue eyes, Daxter’s brain fumbled for a response. “Um... well-” His eyes flickered and lowered to Jak’s lips. “We…we were just kids.”

“Then why are you here now?” There was a teasing lilt to his voice. A smirk curled at the edge of his lips, and Dax couldn’t peel his eyes away.
 
“Uh… I-I feel…” The distance between them was closing at an alarming rate and Dax quickly pulled away. “I feel like we’re sittin’ way too close to this fire!”

Blinking, Jak spared a critical glance at the splintering fire. His eyes lingered on Daxter’s red cheeks before he snorted and plucked up their empty bottles. “You a lightweight or something?”

“I’m offended you’d even insinuate that, frankly.”

While Jak mercifully left to throw the bottles away, Dax fixed his ruffled bangs and straightened the headphones still wrapped around his neck to not feel so strangling.

Moments later, Jak sat back down, and they stared at each other again. Dax felt wobbly, only slightly tipsy. Not enough to be a drunken fool, but just enough to make some reckless life choices with a justifiable excuse. “Is this okay? I mean, I kinda feel like I shouldn’t even be talkin’ to you.”

“You needed me.”

Dax blinked. “Huh?”

“Back at the Bazaar. You said you were scared. The way you looked at me…” Jak’s tone demanded answers and brooked no excuses. “You needed me.”

Vaguely ashamed of himself, Dax nervously twined his fingers together. “Yeah, well, can ya blame me? My world shifted on its axis and I suck at coping.”

Jak tilted his head. His eyes narrowed dubiously. “Because you need a new friend group?”

“Sure,” Dax drawled, “And meeting you again, and the fact that yer some super-powered hunk, which I'm afraid to even ask about-”

“Eco.”

“Right. That.”

They both chuckled, their quiet laughter echoing through the isolated bunker.

“It's a lot, y'know? I thought I knew my purpose but now I'm not so sure…”

“Do you want to be a Krimzon Guard?” Jak’s voice cut into him deeply. 

Instinctively, the redhead knew the jig was up. This moment would make or break them.

“No,” Dax answered swiftly and nearly smacked his own mouth.

“Just because they shot you?”

“No, that's not…” Dax struggled to form incoherent thoughts into a sensible answer. The alcohol wasn’t aiding him.  “It's because they can't be trusted.” The spoken truth made him sick. “Everythin’ I've been taught... I was told they wear their tattoos with honor. A symbol to protect this city and people, but… that's not true.”

Sighing deeply, Dax nearly curled into himself, grateful that Jak wasn’t interrupting. “Y’know, I dropped out last year. Right before graduation, too. My siblings thought it was cause of nerves. But it wasn't. I… saw somethin’ that really fucked me up. For a long time. Somethin’ a couple of Guards did. I almost didn't go back. But the panic attacks got worse. I didn't know what else to do. I do want glory… but at this expense? Hell no.” Dax finally met Jak’s eyes. “They told me you were a monster. But yer not. They lied to me.”

The blonde's lips twitched with sardonic humor. “Maybe to them I am. It's not like I've shown them the real me.”

“But don't you see?” The realization struck him. His heart sped up. His breathing felt short. “All they've done is lie. What else don’t I know, Jak?” Darkness crept inside the edges of his vision.

“Daxter…”

“They were gonna kill us and for what?”

“Hey.” Jak’s sharp voice broke through the haze. “Breathe.” 

He tried. Inhaling as deeply as he could, his chest hitched. “I’m gonna throw up,” Dax gasped. “I’m gonna pass out!”

“You need to breathe first,” Jak’s serene voice called out to him from far away. Warmth gently brushed against his hand and Dax latched onto it like an anchor. “Watch me.”

It wasn’t until he had to crack open his eyes that he realized he’d clenched them shut. As instructed, he studied Jak’s gentle rising and falling chest. After a moment, he mimicked the action.

“Good,” Jak praised. His voice was only slightly awkward, like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing. “Just breathe.”

Closing his eyes again, Dax retreated into the darkness. He knew how to ease out of an attack, he just wished Jak wasn’t here to witness this bit of weakness. There was the legit risk of passing out, but he couldn’t do that in front of Jak. No fucking way. 

I am not a pussy. Dax soothed himself. I’m fine! Everything is fine. He counted to himself while he began to take deeper breaths. I wish I could lie down right now. I wish I was back home. I never should’ve left. I never should’ve come here. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he was aware his heart wasn’t pumping in his ears. He could breathe again without a snag in his lungs. Exhaling slowly, Dax opened his eyes and looked down at his hands clasped with Jak’s. So warm, he thought dazedly.

Those big hands slowly disentangled from his, leaving him cold. “You good?” Jak’s voice sounded clearer. 

“Yeah. Mhm. Yup.” Dax sighed. Tears filled his eyes and he quickly dug his palms into them to hide them. “That was lame. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jak protested sternly. “I’ve never struggled with that sorta thing. I don’t know what it’s like. It doesn’t seem like fun.” He ended on a light note, probably in an attempt to ease the awkwardness, and Dax was heartily grateful for it. 

Embarrassed but easily hiding it, Dax offered a wobbly smile. “Yeah. It sucks. Full time. No way to prepare for it, y’know?”

Jak returned the smile, though he couldn’t quite hide his wariness like Dax could.

Emotionally exhausted now, on top of still feeling the clinging effects of alcohol left him in a doozy. His thoughts ran away from him. Staring and studying Jak unexpectedly made him feel irritated. Why the fuck did Jak have to be like this? He was fucking perfect. The annoyance increased; how the hell was he supposed to handle this?

Jak noticed his unwavering stare and quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

"Nothin’!" Dax snapped. Quickly he rubbed his forehead and sighed through his nose. "S'nothin'."

If Jak took offense, he didn’t show it. Instead, his ears flicked and he checked the clock hanging on the far wall. “It’s getting late anyway. I think we’ve had enough adventure for one day.”

Dax bit his lip. He felt like he’d been swiftly punched in the gut. “Can we…meet up again tomorrow?”

Jak tensed up, and refused to meet his eyes. 

That was enough to send Dax backtracking. What an idiot, he scolded himself. You really think you can just shove yourself into his life? You think you can, what? Be good buddies after everything? Unable to help it, his ears fell. The thought, no matter how logical, of never seeing Jak again sent a twist of dread through him. 

“Yeah,” Jak’s voice startled him out of his pity party, “I think we can do that. I’m supposed to be working, but I think a few hours would be great to…” Blue eyes flickered up to meet his. “Catch up. Some more.”

Grinning, Dax nodded and dug for his communicator. “Here, add yerself.”

Jak compliantly swiped the device and added his number. When Dax looked over his new contact enthusiastically, he puzzled over the fact that Jak had clearly added a fake number. Those types of automated numbers scammers and pranksters liked to use. It wasn't hard to tell. He opened his mouth to call him out on it, but slowly closed it out of respect for their rekindled friendship. It would be put on the back burner for now.

“I’ll be here tomorrow. Just come by at sunrise and I’ll let you in.” With that, Jak stood up and stretched. Nothing better to do, Dax mimicked him. 

The air was thick and awkward, though Dax couldn’t quite figure out why. He wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to ease it. A snide jab tingled on the tip of his tongue.

Jak rubbed the back of his neck, ruffling his chaotic blonde hair. “Want a ride home?”

“Actually yeah.” Daxter smirked with relief. “Nice primo service you run, pal. Free beer, free rides. What else you got?"

Jak immediately squared up. "Yeah, uh-huh. Don't think I forgot you owe me a smoothie."

Dax shrugged blithely, like the little brat he was. "Do you accept tips?"

It was indeed late by the time Jak drove him home. He didn’t mind that Jak knew where he lived. It simply didn’t frighten him, and he refused to spare the energy to configure why it would. In fact, he dozed off with his cheek pressed against Jak’s back, finally feeling content for the first time in forever.

The next day, as soon as rays of dawn burst over the horizon, Dax knocked on the door holding a bag of omelet bites and two cappuccinos. He figured that made up for the smoothie. 

-/-

Sitting under a wilting palm tree, Jak and Daxter stared out over the ocean. 

The heavy machinery of the Pumping Station broke the peaceful atmosphere. Normally this was off limits to pedestrians, but Dax did have at least some privilege as a rookie to be given a minor security pass. The only thing they had to worry about out here was maintenance being sent out if one of the machines malfunctioned. Not that big of a threat. If anything, it was kinda thrilling; the idea of being caught. It gave Dax a certain rush he didn’t know he liked, but now craved.

“Do y’want this back?” Dax tentatively held out the tiny crystal, even though every nerve in his hand was struggling not to close over it possessively.

Jak reached out and brushed his fingers over it. His muscles visibly shivered. An expression of pure relief and peace passed over his face. 

Red brows rose. What the heck? Sure, the rock was cold to touch but to that degree? “Uh, ya good?”

“Yeah.” He pulled away. “I don’t want it. It’s yours.”

“You sure?”

Jak nodded, apparently content with leaving the conversation there.

It wasn’t good enough. “If it’s worth alotta dough, I don’t mind giving it back,” pressed Dax. “I have money. And ya keep reacting to it like it means somethin’ to you, I just don’t…” He shrugged vaguely and let his words trail off.

Jak’s sigh was laced with impatience. “To be honest, I probably shouldn’t have given it to you. But I’m not enough of a jackass to take it away now.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t okay with it,” Dax argued, mildly irritated now. “What exactly is it? A diamond?”

“It was the most valuable thing I had at the time. It’s sorta a family heirloom, I guess. Let’s just say my father was not happy-”

“It’s yer dad’s?” Dax’s voice cracked on a high octave. “Sheesh! Now I really don’t want it!”

“It was my dad's. Then it was mine. Now it's yours. He understood you helped me.”

“Yeah, but what is it? Ya keep acting like it's super-duper important, and it’s kinda freakin’ me out.”

“S’nothing. Just a rock.”

“Oh, so you wouldn’t be upset if I chucked it into the ocean right now?”

Jak’s face twitched. “Don’t…”

Dax sighed, “We’re buds, yeah? I know our arrangement ain’t exactly conventional. But, we’re way past that point. We have no choice but to trust each other now. And I need you to stop leavin’ me in the dark.”

Jak pinched the bridge of his nose with a small growl. “It’s not that simple. I can’t just tell you everything - not because I don’t want to, but because it’s a lot.”

“Fine. One step at a time then.” Dax held up the rock. “What is this?”

Inhaling deeply, Jak’s face contorted as if he were in legitimate pain. “A light eco crystal.”
 
The words tumbled out so quickly, Dax almost didn’t hear them. Almost. “Wow! I have no idea what that is!” Jak turned his face away with a quiet hiss, and Dax quickly dropped the unappreciated humor. “Okay! That’s a start. Light eco, huh? So, uh, what makes it so special?”

“It’s… rare.” Jak spat the word out. In any other situation, Dax probably would’ve found his reluctance funny. He appeared to be literally spilling his guts rather than metaphorically. But he knew that it was a lot for Jak to step out of his comfort zone for this. It was touching to be trusted in such a way. Every time Jak gave a little piece of himself, Dax wanted to treasure it. “As far as I know, there’s only a few of these crystals in the world. Legend says they can heal the worst of wounds.”

Daxter snorted before he could help himself. “Seems like yer doin’ just fine without it.”

Shrugging in a ‘you got me there’ type of way, Jak seemed to agree with him.

Unable to keep the paranoia at bay, Dax cautiously studied the crystal. "Can it hurt me? Any inadvertent side effects I need to know about?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Far from it. If you could channel the energy, you'd probably feel high all the time. At most, it’d probably ease a stomach ache for you.”

“I’ll keep it safe,” Dax promised sincerely after a beat. “Thanks for tellin’ me. It’s nice to call it somethin’ other than a shiny rock.”

“Just…don’t show anyone, okay?” Jak shifted awkwardly, kicking one leg into the sand. “Honestly, I probably put you in a shit ton of danger when I gave it to you.”

“I refuse to be upset over somethin’ ya did when you were like six,” the redhead scoffed and pocketed his newly christened light eco crystal.

Jak’s lips puckered out slightly as he contemplated those words. “What? No, I was eight.”

Daxter’s eyes widened. “We’re the same age?!”

Chapter Text

“Do we need to discuss the birds and the bees?”

Dax halted in the middle of the kitchen. Nearly tripping over his feet, he spared Tess a baffled glance. “Uh, what?”

Without acknowledging him, Tess continued to stir the pot atop the stove. It smelled fuckin' delicious, but he had agreed to meet with Jak for lunch today. “I know we didn’t really give you the talk when you were younger, but we can make up for lost time. Right, Torn?”

Grunting noncommittally from the kitchen table, Torn buried his face into his newspaper.

Daxter glared between the both of them with mounting annoyance. “What the hell are you talkin’ about Tessie?”

“You’ve been going out a lot lately.” Tess finally leveled an all-knowing look at him. “Hanging out with a new friend, hm?”

Fighting back a persistent blush, Dax crossed his arms with a huff. “Yeah, a friend.”

“C’mon. We all know you don’t have those,” Torn commented flatly.

Dax spluttered indignantly, “I have some now, dick!”

The absolute nerve-!

Tess paused from cooking dinner and Dax prudently put some distance between them, a sixth sense warning him of the love onslaught that was about to commence. “Yes, but just in case, I have some sex ed books I can give you.”

He slapped his face. “Tess, for the love of Precursors, no-!”

“Is this the part where I threaten your new girlfriend with a shotgun or something?” Finally Torn lowered the paper to give Dax a reproachful look.

Dax felt just a few short moments from exploding. “I don’t have a girlfriend, I have a guy friend! And shuddup with that, yer not my dad, you idiot.”

“Oh, it’s okay, sweetie! We all know you’re bi.”

His face turned as red as his hair. “TESS!”

Torn promptly hid his face again.

“What? I’m just saying! It’s okay. It’s really in your best interest to educate yourself on safe sex though!”

“I am not having this convo right now! Nope! Nope! Nooo!” Dax threw his hands in the air and made a mad dash for the door. “We’re not fucking, we’re just talking!”

Her voice followed him on the way out, “What do you think talking leads to, baby?”

-/-

Today was a bit more adventurous. Rather than digging straight into food, Dax had suggested taking a quick romp first. Being the speed demon he was, Jak preferred driving recklessly from point A to B and the redhead felt the obligation to remind the big lug to sometimes take a damn break. Kick a load off and enjoy the smaller moments to breathe.

(Jak was indeed taking a break for him, given the city's collective sigh of relief from the recent disappearance of the Dark Warrior.)

They were strolling along the Port, enjoying the spray occasionally sprinkling them when they neared the edge. Dax was struck with a memory from when he was a pre-teen and chirped excitedly, “Hey, watch this!” He picked up a stray rock and skipped it across the water. It plopped eventually after traveling an admirable distance. 

Jak perked up like a cat, ears raising. His eyes had followed the bouncing rock with interest.
 
Smugly Dax asked, “Ever done that before?” 

“No.” Jak answered, still staring out over the water. 

Right... the desert was quite ocean-less and Jak probably didn't dawdle with games in his spare time. That thought was uncomfortable. Dax wondered what he did for fun, or if blowing stuff up was his only way of doing so. “Well, today’s the day that changes!” He raised his arms in the air theatrically.

Jak grunted but eagerly scooped up a flat rock. He studied the stone and ocean critically, eyes flickering between the two.

“C’mon,” Dax whined dramatically with a jackass grin. “I’ll be in a retirement home by the time yer done.”

Jak shushed him without a glance before twisting his midriff and throwing the rock out over the ocean. Dax half-expected it to sink immediately, and his brows rose with astonishment when it danced across the water even further than his had. “Well, damn! I had faith in ya all along, pal!”

“That was fun,” Jak deadpanned and straightened up. He had the decency not to be cocky about it. Or maybe he was just bored. 

Dax snorted. “No, that was anticlimactic. Fun would be watching you fail over and over until you exploded in a rage.”

Crossing his arms, Jak smirked down at him. “Twisted idea of fun, asshole.”

He nodded sagely, but his thoughts were already running away from him, and he grabbed Jak around the wrist with a beaming grin. “C’mon, let's see what else we can do!”

Inwardly, he appreciated the fact that Jak was letting himself be dragged along. If the blonde hadn't wanted to, he could've simply dug his heels in. To Daxter it only proved the point home that he was trusted. That Jak wanted to spend time with him. They hadn’t had the chance to grow up together, but there wasn’t a reason they couldn’t make up for lost time now.
 
Blue eyes scanned the Port, and the sound of squawking caught his attention. His sights landed on a crowd of seagulls lounging peacefully on one of the boarding docks, and a devilish grin spread across his face. He stopped abruptly enough that Jak nearly crashed into him. 

“Hey. Ever scared seagulls before?”

Jak’s face twisted with puzzled incredulity. “Why the hell would I do that?”

Perfect. Buzzing with uncontrollable energy, a laugh was already fizzling in his chest like a sparkler. Grip tightening around Jak’s wrist, Dax gave a sharp pull until they were sprinting forward to the unsuspecting birds. “Why the hell not?!”

-/-

Daxter didn’t like Eco Channelers. But he liked Jak. It was quite the conundrum, but unfortunately the truth. How fucked up was that?

There was a fog of avoidance engulfing them whenever they were together. They had a truce for the sake of friendship, yes, but it was a silent one.  They both knew they weren't asking the real questions. They weren't talking about significant shit. Walking on eggshells was a damn understatement.

Sometimes his romanticized, desperate thoughts escaped him, wherein he viewed Jak as his long awaited missing half. Like it had been fate for them to meet. Other times, the mask slipped off and he knew they were just playing pretend. Like a couple kids fooling around while the parents argued in the other room. It was enough to leave him with the jitters. It was obvious that sometimes they really just were on opposite sides. 

Dax wanted Jak - well, that is to say, he wanted to be closer. He was sick of the impenetrable wall between them.

“My siblings are adopted,” he said casually. Today, they were in the Gardens. Reclining against the wall in a secluded area, they decided to have their lunch there. 

The yakows were noisy nearby. The sprinklers watered the plants, filling the air with the scent of wet soil. People occasionally sauntered on the walking trails close to them. The ambience was perfectly adequate enough for them to talk freely without completely isolating themselves. Everything was normal. 

The words flowed from his mouth without a filter; “I don't see them as parental figures, cause we're too close in age. They were neighbors when the war happened and they found each other again after we were all branded.”

Jak regarded him curiously but he didn't question or stop the sudden backstory. “How'd you meet them?” 

“Just a couple months after you.” Dax could see in his mind's-eye a girl with shaggy blonde hair and a lanky teenage boy with dreads pulled tight in a ponytail. “I was sufferin’ from paranoia. I was just movin’ constantly, from one location to the next. And I literally bumped into them. I kept expectin’ ‘em to ransack my pockets. Tess, man…she was so sweet. I remember her just beggin’ Torn to let me stay.”

Jak snorted with a teasing smile. “Like bringing home a pet.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Dax rolled his eyes good-naturedly, “I was their stray. Torn was such an asshole and I was too freaked at the time to back-talk him. He was in the Academy and could only work a part-time job. Tess wasn’t sixteen yet so she couldn't work. They tested me first, made it seem like a game so I’d play along. I had to swipe some lunch…real easy shit. They eventually took me home to a one bedroom place. I just remember the mattress on the floor…and they kept the oven open for heat.”

What he didn’t mention was the puppy-pile cuddles - how Dax would be smushed against the wall, Tess’s arm snug around him. Torn had laid closest to the edge with his back to them. All those years, he had thought it was a cold shoulder. It wasn’t until he was wiser did he realize that Torn had been facing the door, always ready to act on the defense. Jak didn’t need to know everything.
 
Dax turned to him with a serious expression. “This ain’t a manipulation tactic. Even I’ll be the first to admit I’m not sharp enough for that. But…” he nervously brushed his thumb against his clenched fist. “I was kinda hopin’ this would break the ice? Even a little?”

Realization dawned on Jak. The damned mask slipped on again, just like that. Avoiding his eyes, Jak turned his attention away uncomfortably. Instead, he focused intently on a butterfly lazing away on a flower nearby.

“You said something about yer dad?” Dax pried, “Does he live in the Wasteland?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t talk about my family. Not yet.”

Heaving a sigh, Dax scooted down until he could flop onto his back. “S’fine. No worries.”

“I just don’t trust you enough for that.”

It cut deep like a knife inside his chest. Dax wanted to protest against it, wanted to desperately shove those words away - but it was true. After all, what had Dax done to earn his trust besides keep a shiny pebble and follow him around like a lost puppy? 
I don’t trust Channelers but I do trust you. Dax winced. I don’t like your people but I like you.

Was that even possible? Could an exception be made like that? If Jak could make one, why couldn’t he?

Ego stung, Dax sunk further into the grass. After a few moments of suffering alone in self-pity, there was a rustle as Jak laid down next to him.

“What’re you fightin’ for?” Dax asked carefully and tonelessly. “And I don’t mean like that, I mean what’re yer hopes n’ dreams? Where do you see yerself in the future?” 

Jak’s elbow barely brushed against his own, sending a pleasant shock down his arm. “I see…” he hummed, “safety. I see myself sharing a drink with my friends and returning home to my family.”

Why don’t you? Aren’t they right outside the Wall? The question tingled on his lips. What’s so special about staying in Haven?

“What about you?” Jak asked.

Dax envisioned his future ten years, five years, even a year from now and saw nothing. He couldn’t see himself clad in red armor anymore. “I dunno.” Tilting his head, he smiled softly at Jak. “I liked yers though.”

Jak’s lips twitched in return. They both turned away again to silently gaze up at the roaming clouds. They continued to pretend to be normal boys as the spring wind caressed them. Daxter inhaled deeply and smelled the fresh grass and mud. Peacefulness quickly sloped down into vulnerability.

“We’re so different,” he lamented quietly without a thought. “How are we gonna make this work?”

There wasn’t an immediate response, and Dax gritted his teeth in the silence. However, the grass crinkled as Jak rolled onto his side. Curiously, Dax copied him until they faced each other. The blonde didn’t seem upset, but there was a certain melancholy etched into his expression. Wordlessly, he held up his palm. 

Biting his tongue before saying anything caustic, Dax decided to be nice and play along. He placed his palm against his friend's. Jak's skin was deliciously warm, sending tingles up his arm. The color of his skin was darker, causing Dax's to appear paler in contrast. His fingers were also thicker, making him feel unexpectedly small.

“See?” Jak raised an amused brow at their mirrored hands. “Not so different.”

“Holy shit, dude.” Snickering, he dipped his chin down. Hopefully hiding away the blush dusting his cheeks. “You are such a dork!”

“Too corny?” Jak asked with a quiet laugh of his own.

“Totally, but-” Dax entwined their fingers together. “I like it.”

There was a quiet hitch of breath. Jak’s eyes flickered between the hand-hold and the redhead’s sincere eyes. When there was no mocking punchline, he relaxed and returned the squeeze. Dax’s heart did a funny little flip, but he relented the grip and rolled onto his back again. 

He had a lot to think about and some major self-reflection to do and boy was it not going to be easy. On the bright side, it may not have been the way he had imagined, but he did feel closer to Jak. 

For a couple hours though, they enjoyed their break away from reality and pointed out shapes in the clouds, occasionally snickering like dumbass teenagers until the sun began to set and the smog eventually encompassed the sky.

“Welcome to Haven City,” Dax sighed out his disappointment. “Hope you enjoy the scenery, cause there ain’t one.”

“You can actually see the stars out in the Wasteland,” Jak murmured - Dax’s ears eagerly popped up - “I’ll show you sometime, if you’d like.” - And immediately wilted like a dying flower. Leave Haven? No. No, he couldn’t. It was his life. Only Precursors knew what horrors awaited in the outside world. The Wall was a perfect indication of that; he was right where he belonged, safe and sheltered.

“Eh,” Dax shrugged it off coolly, not wanting Jak to be deterred from opening up again. “I’ll think about it. Maybe…maybe we can go during holiday break or somethin’.”
He quickly sat up with a groan to deflect the conversation. “I have to go. Dish duty tonight.”

Taking the cue, Jak stood up and gave a mighty stretch. Endearingly, he insisted on driving Dax whenever they went out, and who was Dax to not take up the chance for a quick break?

Jak liked him, right?

Wrapping his arms snugly around the blonde’s waist, Dax rested his cheek against Jak’s back.

Jak had to like him, it’s not like he was using him for intel or anything. And even Daxter could admit that his loud mouth wasn't worth the long run. He would kill Krimzon Guards but he wouldn’t kill Dax. We were friends first, he had told him with warmth in his eyes.

They didn’t talk the entire drive back to his apartment, and that was for the better, because Daxter’s thoughts were a jumbled, incoherent mess. 

-/-

They didn’t see each other the next week. Not out of avoidance or anything, but Jak insisted on ‘going back to work’ which really meant he was focusing on espionage and his apparent duty of uprooting Haven City. Daxter wasn’t remotely surprised to hear of double the effort of sabotage from the Dark Warrior. It bothered him, to not only think of Jak as some mindless beast, but that his home was under attack. However, he had no control in the matter, so he turned a blind eye and simply didn’t think about it.

Sitting in class, Dax flipped open his notebook to the goofy doodle he had drawn of Jak as a monster. People behind him were whispering about the intense attack last night. Something about an armory being blown up. He could even pick up muttering about wanting to have the honor of putting a bullet in the freak’s head. 

That’s right, Dax thought in a stupor, I missed a headshot.

Staring down at the crudely drawn beast, his mind provided the heart-wrenching image of a small mute boy with tear-glistening eyes. Fuck. He snapped the notebook shut with a huff and buried his face in his hands.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Keira asked nonchalantly. 

“I met an old friend,” Dax provided without lifting his face. “And let’s just say complicated ain’t even scratchin’ the surface.”

“An old friend? What’s wrong?”

Everything, he wanted to say. “He was my first friend, but I dunno…we’re just not close like we were.”

“People change,” she rebuked gently. “I’m sure he misses the way you used to be too.”

“Maybe,” he allowed, his voice still muffled. “Is it weird that we trust each other with our lives but not our hearts?” He finally lifted his face to give her a pleading look.

She pursed her lips. “Well, that may be a bit dramatic, but…huh. I guess not. After all, it’s easier to die than to live for someone.”

“Yer so wise,” he said solemnly, only half joking.

“Trust is not so easily given, Dax.” Keira quickly dropped the amusement. “You have to earn it.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” the redhead whined while leaning back in his chair. He could count on one hand how many friends he had. With his siblings, all he had to do was prove his resourcefulness. With Keira… he didn’t know. “How did I earn yers?” Dax questioningly tilted his head.

“When you were finally sincere,” she answered easily. “I was having a bad day and you just opened up to me. I liked it.” Keira looked away with a reminiscent smile. “You want me to be honest? I’ve talked with everyone in this room, and you’re the only one that isn’t fueled by prejudice. That’s why I trust you.”

Dax snorted, unwilling to show her how his heart had turned to mushy goo. “Says the girl that cursed out the Channelers first.”

“I had a lapse in judgment.”

He rolled his eyes. “Funny. So basically you tolerate me cause I’m not an asshole, got it.”

“You asked,” Keira snarked back, unfazed.

“But I’m not an asshole to him.” He flailed his arms out. “And I’ve opened up! I am totally sincere, but it’s like I’m blocked by a brick wall!”

“Okay, but we don’t know what he’s been through.” Keira’s voice accordingly lowered as Sig walked into the room and dutifully powered on the board. “Give him time. Earn his trust in a big way. Do something neither of you would expect!”

“Thanks, babe.” Daxter whispered back as Sig’s booming voice officially ended the conversation. Keira smiled, no longer offended by the nickname. And that was the thing, wasn’t it? Dax hadn’t realized he’d stopped using it in a derogatory way. His brows creased. Maybe he really was the problem in the equation, not Jak.
 
But how far could Jak be pushed over the line before he decided Dax wasn’t worth the difficulty? 

Actions speak louder than words. 

He highly doubted Jak was a chocolates and flowers type of guy. What did Jak want besides ending the war and how the heck was Dax supposed to help with that? Only one of them could turn into a Dark Warrior, and Dax wasn’t so sure he could commit to laying waste to his own people. 

He fought the urge to yank his hair in frustration.
 
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the door opening.

Commander Erol strolled into the classroom. Everything fell silent in one great hush. 

Keira inhaled sharply. Sig floundered, caught off guard with the rest of them. Immediately on high alert, Dax hunched his shoulders like a cornered animal, trying to appear smaller. Erol paying a casual visit to them and without informing Sig first? Definitely not fucking fishy at all.

Golden eyes, akin to a predator, skimmed the classroom. When they inevitably landed on Daxter, he couldn’t maintain the contact and quickly pretended to write something in his notebook.

“Commander,” Sig said effortlessly, like his class hadn't just been unexpectedly upended. “How can I help you?”

Erol smiled easily, and even when he addressed Sig, Dax could still feel his unrelenting stare drilling into him. “You can’t. I’m here to collect one of your students for a quick chit-chat.” Fuck, even his voice was enough to send goosebumps down his arms. Buttery smooth, hiding a snake about to strike.

Everyone in the room could feel Sig’s ‘Mama Bear’ switch officially turn on. He shifted uneasily, his red optic briefly glinting. “There a problem I’m not aware of?”

Holding up his palm in a patronizing way, Erol’s smile only widened. “Just a private investigation. Nothing you need to concern yourself with. I’ll bring him back safe and sound when I’m done asking a few questions.” Those yellow eyes landed on him again. “Daxter, if you would?”

His stomach dropped to his feet. Amidst the coldness dumping over him, Keira’s hand, hidden under the desk, fisted the fabric of his pants, practically digging her nails into his thigh. His eyes snapped to her. Her pupils were pinpricks, her lips a tight, thin line. Dax could read her face perfectly: Don’t screw this up.

Nodding shakily, Dax stood up on numb legs. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck! He cast a helpless glance over his shoulder as he trailed behind the Commander. The last thing he saw before the door closed was Sig’s thunderous, grim expression.

Chapter Text

Daxter had always imagined Erol’s office to be as loopy as he was - a mad man’s space filled with clutter and oddities. Maybe a pickled head in a jar on a shelf. 

The reality was a bit more anticlimactic than that. 

Erol’s office was in fact clean and neat, even more so than Torn’s. Not even a pebble on the tiled floor. A splash of personality amidst the monochrome came from the few racing posters on the walls, and a litter of medals and trophies in the back cabinet. Dax never cared about racing, but he could remember Keira gushing about Erol’s driving skills a few times. Huh. Maybe Dax had been harsh to judge. He’d been wrong about both Jak and Keira. Maybe he’d been wrong about Erol too.

Still, though… he desperately wished he was back in Ashelin’s office compared to this stifling hell. At least he knew what to expect from her. She was a terrifying Betty with an intimidation kink, but Erol? Precursors only knew. He’d mentioned a private investigation to Sig. Every warning bell in the redhead’s skull was screaming at him that he knew exactly what this was going to be about.

Play it cool, Dax. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Stick to yer story. You got this.

Sitting across from him at his desk, Erol silently scrolled through a tablet. When he held the device out, Dax obediently rolled up his sleeve and offered his barcode. The red light of the tablet’s scanner beeped, and they both settled back in their chairs.

The clock hanging on the far wall ticked with every second. 

Leg bouncing with agitation, Dax occupied himself with searching around the room with un-seeing eyes. 

After a few moments of reading over his file, a tight-lipped smirk curled Erol’s face. His yellow eyes slid up to meet Dax’s. “Tatouazophobia?”

Doing a mental double take, Dax fumbled for a response. “Who? What?”

“Tatouzaophobia,” Erol repeated and slowly placed the tablet down. “It means fear of tattoos.”

Speechless, Dax could only blink dumbly.

“You ditched the ceremony before they could finalize your admittance into the Guard last year.” Erol clarified. The smile never wavered. “Very clever, by the way. They all thought you were taking an extended bathroom break. There was a scramble for order when they realized you were gone. After all, no one expected you to just go home .”

Daxter hadn’t gone home though. He easily recalled that horrifying moment. Instead, he had hidden deep in an alleyway and curled into a ball until night fell, praying to the Precursors that he could just disappear from existence. 

He gulped in the heavy silence when he realized Erol was waiting for a response. “I…I- my nerves were shot, y’know? I was about to lose it. I didn’t want to pass out and crack open my head.” He shrugged with an exaggerated grin. “That would’ve been way worse, am I right? So, I just left. I didn’t really think to say somethin’. Totally stupid on my part.”

“Yes, well. I think you should’ve been executed for such a shameful act. Practically spitting in the Baron’s face like that.” He tutted and shook his head. “I’ve never seen Torn’s face so pale, and I’ve known him since the Academy.”

Mouth dry, Dax gaped wordlessly. Executed? What the fuck?

“And the amount of groveling he did to get you back in here.” The smile finally faded away. He curled his fingers together and rested his chin on his hands. “I'd almost be impressed if it weren't so embarrassing. You know…the only reason you were allowed back in here was due to the fact your skills were exceptional. Frankly, you would’ve been placed on active duty had you graduated. Now, though…” Erol hummed and narrowed his eyes. “There has been a significant drop in quality.”

Heart pounding harder in his chest, Dax made sure to keep his expression neutral. “I’ll just have to be better… sir.”

If Erol heard him, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Haven is the Baron's body, and the Guards are his hands. We represent him. There is no room for fear or compassion, and do you want to know why?”

“Uh…”

“It's because the Users will exploit it. They see weakness like a rotting wound on a prey and won't hesitate to jump on it.”

“You pulled me into your office for a pep talk?” Dax croaked, lost and confused.

Closing his eyes, Erol chuckled. “I called you in here for a bit of questioning. See, I’m completing a puzzle but I’m just missing a few crucial pieces.” The commander stood up and circled behind Dax’s chair. 

The hairs on the back of his neck rose. He didn’t dare turn to look.

“Where is the Dark Warrior?”

Dax flinched. “What?”

Erol’s hand was in his hair. He snapped Dax’s head back harsh enough to cause whiplash before slamming his face onto the desk. Reflexively, Dax tried to squirm away, but Erol’s grip was merciless. The chair went flying with a crash in the scuffle. Whimpering, Dax clenched his eyes shut and focused on breathing through the blackening pain.

“Where is he?” Erol hissed between his teeth. “I know you know. The others may believe he got away , but I am not so simple a fool.” Daxter’s head was forced onto its side. Erol bent over until he was close enough for his hot breath to fan over a freckled cheek. “You didn’t finish the job. And that freak kills as soon as it looks. You let each other go, didn’t you? Now tell me where he is.”

“I-I don’t know! I don’t! Stop!”

Distantly, he felt something warm trickle down his face. His nose was burning -

Erol let up on the crushing pressure, but only marginally. “As soon as I read your report I was concerned for your safety. I had a watch stationed at your house…”

Dax's stomach jumped hard enough to make him gag. 

“But you're not exactly a homebody are you? Going out from dawn to dusk.” Erol's voice lifted in a smug lilt, practically drawling out each word. “Your friend is quite the catch. What's his name? I couldn't find him on file…”

Daxter's vision filled with stars. Static overwhelmed his hearing. No, no no no-

“The Slums, right?” Erol continued maliciously, “Think he'd mind if I paid him a visit?” 

“Fuck you,” Dax spat. A slimmer of protectiveness gave him the courage to call out this bastard. Erol applied pressure to his head again, cruel enough with the will to crush him into a pulp. Tears slipped down his cheek, blinding him. “Ya don’t care about ‘im ,” he bit out gravelly. “Ya just know ya got nothin’ on my family…”

Releasing a harsh laugh, Erol played with the tip of his ear, gently enough for Dax’s stomach to twist. “You think this is about Torn? Cute.” He pressed himself harder against his back. “You know your brother can’t protect you from me.” His fingers clawed into Daxter’s ear and yanked it back at an unnatural angle.

He choked on a pained cry, and chewed his lip hard enough to break skin, not wanting to give this asshole the benefit of hearing his misery.

“Just look at that resilience!” Erol purred, “Maybe you do have what it takes. I’ve been telling the Baron for years that one-legged freak show was too soft on you all.”

Inhaling, Dax opened his mouth with the one weapon he had left. “ Harder. ” He shifted so he could grind back against the Commander. “Keep talkin’ to me, daddy.”

With a scoff of disgust, Erol reared away, nearly releasing him completely. 

Dax smirked weakly with bloodied teeth. Got ‘im.

Curling in close again after a long beat, Erol’s lips brushed against his ear in a spine-tingling whisper, “You will tell me where the Dark Warrior is, even if I have to break you. I’ll be watching.” 

With that promise, he finally let go, some gold-red strands floating to the ground from between his fingers. “You're dismissed.” Daxter glanced up blearily when a box of tissues slid across the desk. “And do clean yourself up before returning to class.”

-/-

Water flowing from the faucet echoed throughout the empty bathroom. 

The communicator was in his hands before his brain could catch up with his actions. Acting on instinct, he called the one person he needed most.

“What?” Jak’s voice was impatient and graveled when he answered the call.

Daxter had heard it like that only once before and recognized it immediately. His mouth gaped uselessly for several precious seconds, searching for a sound. “Are you…dark ‘n gruesome?”

“What?” Jak growled again. “Not a good time right now.”

“But ya still picked up for me… fuck!” Tears blurred his vision. His voice cracked and he bit down hard on his lip to stop the whimper. Frantically, he yanked a handful of paper towels out of the dispenser and shoved them under the water. 

“Dax?” Jak no longer sounded like he was speaking through a mouthful of fangs. Though his softer voice was still laced with concerned urgency. “What’s wrong?”

Now, that was the golden question! It was almost enough to send him into hysterics. “What isn’t wrong? We’re so fucked .” He patted the clump of dripping paper to his face and pulled away to stare at the red stains. 

“Daxter.” That calm tone instantly grounded him like an anchor. “Tell me what happened.”

Releasing a shuddering breath, Dax hunched over the sink and took a moment to gather his thoughts. Fingers trembling, he tossed the dirty paper into the trash and pulled out new ones to dab at his face again. “Erol. The Commander. He…he questioned me.” Realizing his words was bouncing off the walls, he sent a panicked look to the door before lowering his voice. “He knows. About you. He wanted me to tell ‘im about you.”

“He knows…” Jak spoke tediously slowly, “About me? That I can transform?”

“No! No  - At least I don’t think so. He knows yer my friend. He’s been watching us. I meant he wants yer alter ego. He thinks we’re in cahoots. He wants me to tell ‘em where you are.” Peeling the warm, dampness from his face again, he noted that the dark red was steadily lightening in shade.

The rushing water was the only noise in the bathroom. Dax breathed shallowly, awaiting Jak’s response.

“Did he touch you?”

The calm question captured the reedy breath from his lungs. Daxter debated the best answer to offer. This situation didn’t need to escalate, it needed to fucking end swiftly. But, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to Jak. Apparently his stalled silence was answer enough.

“I’m coming to get you.” The finality of those words sent a jolt of panic through Dax.

“No, no! There are cameras outside!”

“So?”

“So!” Dax parroted incredulously. “Erol has access to them! If I leave with you right now I’ll just be provin’ him right!” And he couldn’t stand the idea of Jak being anywhere near Erol right now. He refused to be the bait. 

There was a sharp hiss of breath. “Fine,” Jak conceded reluctantly. “But I’m picking you up after. I’ll be in the area if anything happens.”

“Alright,” Dax gasped out, shoulders sagging. “Alright. But just… don’t let anyone see you. I mean, just don’t come close-”

“Dax,” Jak interrupted. “Don’t worry about me.”

Huffing out a strangled, weak laugh, Daxter sagged further. “That’s like tellin’ me not to breathe, pal. Kinda impossible.”

There wasn’t an immediate reply, silence stretching long enough for Dax to worry he’d gone too far with the sap.

“I’m serious,” Jak murmured. “Worry about yourself right now. Call me if that bastard even looks at you.”

Warmth blanketed the cold, lingering horror in his heart like a soothing balm. His knees wobbled with relief. “Yeah,” Dax sighed, finally meeting his own tired reflection in the mirror. “Yeah. Thanks, Jak.”

-/-

When he re-entered the classroom, Sig stalled momentarily to look him over. Dax blinked slowly back, unsure of what to even say. Frowning, Sig waved his wrist to signal him closer. Shyly, Dax crossed his arms and closed the distance between them, letting Sig curl a hand over his shoulder and gather him close to his side, turning their backs to the others.

“I ain’t one to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong,” Sig bent close to whisper against his ear. “But if you’re in trouble, tell someone , chili pepper. Don’t have to be me.”

The warmth of Sig’s bulk amplified the solace in his chest. He nodded briskly and Sig was content enough with that response to let him go and return to the lesson.

He kept his eyes to the floor as he sat back down at his desk. He could feel the eyes on him, a concoction of curiosity and jealousy. Pfft. Yeah, if only they knew. 

Dax numbly stared at the wall, distantly listening to Sig ramble about patrol protocols. Next to him, he could hear Keira shuffling through her bag and pulling out a notebook. She bent over it protectively and rapidly wrote something. Odd, he thought, considering she was so tech-obsessed she only ever used her tablet for notes. 

My face hurts. Dax wavered in his seat, trying to ignore the sting in the back of his head where the hairs had been ripped out. His nose throbbed with his heartbeat. Pain was just an insistent hindrance. Torn and Tess had both told him that. He had been sprayed with pepper spray before and that was way worse.  So why the fuck did this have to bother him so much? 

He inhaled deeply and raced for a distraction. Jak. His big, strong arms, protecting Dax from the world. His eyes closed on their own accord. He craved that. That tingling sensation of hiding his face into dark warmth and trusting everything would be okay. 

A piece of paper being slid towards him pulled him out of his stupor. Keira’s small hand retreated, even as she kept her attention on the lesson ahead. Dax sent her a quick appraising glance before indulging her and pulling the paper closer with his fingers.

There was a sloppily written note on it: You k?

Snorting weakly, Dax quickly drew a doodle and discreetly returned the paper. He watched her from the corner of his eye, not sure how she’d react. ‘Not my boyfriend’ Keira most definitely had a thing for Erol; that was clear from the way they not so subtlety flirt in front of everyone, and she could deny it until her face went purple, it didn’t matter. But, he refused to lie to her. Now, it was on the table whose side she would choose. 

Her eyes widened as she took in the doodle of a deranged Erol cartoonishly screaming and a stick-Daxter standing on a bullseye.

Green eyes met his, and Dax solemnly stared back.

Her expressions flickered subtly, but not subtle enough. Partly because Daxter had an inane ability to read body language, and because Keira was an openly emotional gal.

Worry, suspicion, anger, calculation - it was all there. Eventually, she nodded and pocketed the drawing.

Dax, in desperate need for validation and comfort, took that as a win.

However, the anxiety pouring off of Keira escalated. She kept glancing at the clock. Bouncing her knee. Rubbing her hands together. It was enough to divert his attention from his own misery. Inevitably, she broke the one major rule and surreptitiously pulled out her communicator. Hiding it under the desk, she texted someone - the font too small for him to gander a peek. Then got up and left the room, fishing the bathroom key off the wall as she did.

Dax blinked. Well then. His ego clashed with common sense, struggling to understand what just happened. Was she really that worried over him?

-/-

It was a relief that Jak hadn’t parked near the Academy entrance. Dax lingered near the road, ignoring the traffic roaring overhead, and looked both ways for his friend. There. Down the block, Dax could see a speck of familiar blonde hair. Hefting his messenger bag up, he began the trek down the sidewalk.

Not only was it an ease to his frazzled nerves but it was also a reminder that Dax didn’t have to worry about every single thing out of his control - that he could trust others to do what was smart or right in a crisis. 

When he sidled up against the one-seater zoomer, Jak immediately locked eyes. Obviously appraising his condition, dark blue eyes scanned him down. 

That silent concern squeezed Daxter’s heart painfully. The same way Sig had, the same way Keira had. Lips quivering, he exhaled deeply and squared his shoulders. Without a word, he swung his leg over the machine and settled easily onto the seat, anchoring his hands onto Jak’s waist. There was a moment of stillness where Jak hesitated before he twisted the key and accelerated into the air.

The rumbling purr of the zoomer comforted him, allowing him to ignore the world. He pressed his cheek into Jak’s shoulder, letting wind-chaotic blonde hair tickle his face. 

The scenery passed in a blur - a very good metaphor for his thoughts at the moment.

They drove on for a couple of minutes before Jak shifted. 

The zoomers were not bikes. They were simply too heavy to be handled with only one hand, but Jak defied it to do so anyway. Briefly, he placed his hand over Daxter’s, pressing their fingers together before grabbing the handlebar again.

Dax wished he hadn’t. The physical reassurance was the last fatal blow to the dam. His defenses crumbled and his body began to shake. Tightening his arms around Jak’s waist, Dax buried his face into that strong back and finally let the hot tears flood over. If Jak felt the damp spot on his back or the redhead’s quaking chest, he didn’t say anything.

-/-

Peeking up to see the familiar entrance to Jak’s bunker felt like electricity shocking his limbs.

“No, we shouldn’t… Jak-” Raising his hand out weakly, he watched with terror as Jak nonchalantly hopped off the ride and confidently strode towards the hidden door.

‘The Slums, right? Mind if I pay him a visit?’

Flailing off the zoomer, Dax almost face-planted as he scrambled towards his friend and stopped him from opening the door. “Stop! We shouldn’t be here.”

Pausing, Jak turned to scrutinize him, thankfully not brushing off his distress so easily. “Why?”

“Erol knows you live here.” Frantically, Dax looked around as if the KG were scouting on the rooftops themselves, ready to jump down and ambush them.

Jak’s glower deepened. “I’m sure he does. Doesn’t mean he knows how to get in. C’mon.”

Effectively pressing the hidden mechanism, Jak firmly grasped his wrist and tugged him inside, letting the door slide closed behind them quickly. Light vanished, enveloping them both in complete darkness. 

That should’ve been the end of the argument, but as Jak moved to continue down the stairs, Dax’s feet remained firmly planted. Jak was stronger, he could’ve easily pulled Dax along, but instead he paused and stepped back up, letting their boots bump against each other. He was blind but he could feel Jak's palpable warmth as they faced each other in the dark. 

“What if they come after us?”

Logically he knew he could rely on Jak. That had been proven already. Had been the defining moment for them. It should be so easy to just trust his companion that they were safe - but paranoia washed it away.

“Bullets and grenades aren’t making a dent to this,” Jak reassured quietly, and Dax could hear the tapping of his knuckles against the door.

“What about tanks? Death Bots?”

Jak snorted softly. “Probably. But we’d hear that coming a mile away.” 

Fair point. “An’ if they smoke us out?”

“This isn’t the only door. It’s just the only visible way in .”

Gradually, Jak’s words settled over that little crack of panic in his mind. The growing realization that they were indeed sheltered encompassed his limbs like a warm hug.

Dax inched closer, and as if Jak sensed that token movement, he shifted so his nose brushed against the redhead’s forehead. His breath ruffled red bangs. “Don’t forget this is an underground bunker designed to withstand bombs . It’s probably the safest place in the city.”

Safest place in the city… 

Dax let his hands wander, sliding up Jak’s arms and digging his fingers into the fabric, feeling heat sink into his flesh. “Yeah…” 

-/-

Flicking on the lonesome lamp, Jak beckoned him closer. Interested, Dax tossed his bag aside and obliged. His heart spiked as Jak wordlessly lifted him up by the waist and gently set him down on the countertop.

“Sheesh, give a guy a warning,” Dax complained as his ears flushed. “Rude.”

Jak didn’t apologize, because of course he wouldn’t, and simply opened a drawer to fish through. “Your nose is swollen.”

As if I wasn’t ugly enough, was the first unwarranted biting thought. Instinctively he lifted a hand to hide his nose and dipped his chin away. “Yeah? I bet. Hurt like a bitch for a while there.”

Growling through his teeth, Jak pulled out a small container. “I promise if I see him I’ll return the favor.”

His stomach clenched pleasantly. “How noble of you,” he offered derisively. “I’d rather you not even touch the guy with a thirty-nine foot pole.” A green glow emanating from the box caught his attention. “What’s that?”

Elusively, Jak hesitated. His eyes fluttered away, as if he were about to be scorned. Dax couldn’t help but feel trepidation from that, but the moment passed as Jak met his gaze. “I don’t know if you remember, but I offered something that could help with your bullet wound. This is it.”

The pieces clicked. It wasn’t hard to figure out. “Eco?” 

Jak nodded and opened the box. The green glow intensified and the smell of freshly cut grass assaulted his senses. Dutifully, Jak dug his cupped palm into it and scooped it out. The little ball of eco pulsed like a flickering light bulb, even little shimmers of light floating away before sinking back in. 

Without warning, Jak moved closer with it. Dax tensed and scooted away in alarm from the pure energy. “ What are you doin’?”

Jak looked hurt for a second as if Dax had indeed slapped him on the wrist and chastised him. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s green eco-”

“I can see that!”

“No. Green eco… will restore your health. Not as intense as light eco, but it’ll make you feel better.”

“Look, I trust you.” Dax was adept enough to make that clear. No misunderstandings between them in that regard. “But you can't just come at me with yer magical goo and pull that be not afraid shit.”

Jak sighed, face twisting with frustration. The resignation on his face was more suited for someone who had no choice but to do their chores. “Eco comes in different forms. Trust me, this–” he held up the ball “–is more tame than the crystal I gave you.”

Dax eyed it warily. “So what are you going to do to me?”

“I'm going to channel it into your body. I’m actually preventing it from sinking into mine right now. It works just like medicine except much quicker.”

He eyed the green eco again, this time curiously. “Can I touch it?”

Jak nodded. Lips twitching into a smile, he held it closer. 

When Dax brushed his fingers against it it was akin to dipping his fingers into a warm bath. Like rays of sunlight against his skin. But the orb didn’t react to his touch, and he was able to pull away without an issue. The scent of spring and wildflowers was more prominent. “Wow. Only green eco is like this?” He wiggled his fingers and studied his hand but it didn’t look any different. “I… didn’t know the difference in colors meant a difference in abilities.”

Startling, Jak stared at him like he’d been personally affronted. “What?”

Dax shrugged weakly. “I was always taught the color didn’t matter. That you… guys can twist it to do whatever you wanted anyhow. They said the only one that was different was dark eco. An’ I always believed it ‘cause, y’know, dark ain’t a color.”

There was a short pause. Jak quickly shook himself off. “Yes, every color of eco adheres to the ability. No, we can’t just do whatever we want with it. They were right about dark eco being different but that’s because it’s destructive - even to the channeler.”

Intrigued, Dax regarded Jak through his eyelashes. “Not to you?”

Jak’s lips twitched with wry humor. “Unfortunately, It did have some side effects. Let’s just say I have more of a temper than I did before.” His eyebrows furrowed and he dipped his gaze to the green eco. “I’m sorry, Daxter… I’ve been avoiding talking to you about eco and that’s on me. I’ll answer any questions you have from now on.” He lifted his eyes sanguinely and held up the orb. “May I?”

Beaming, Dax appreciably nodded this time and forced his body to unlock and relax as Jak curled in and pressed the eco to his chest, right over his heart. The green glow disappeared and he could feel the energy pulse and course through his body. 

He took a deep breath and released it shakily. Damn, that felt good. The warmth flowed all the way to the tips of his ears and toes, relieving aches and pains he hadn’t even been aware of. 

Before he knew it, it was over and Jak’s large palm was peeling away. Huh. Blinking his eyes open, he met Jak’s semi-smug face. “Well, that was nice.” Carefully, Dax prodded his nose. “Everythin' good? How do I look? I swear if you gave me a third eye or somethin’...”

“Hmmm.” Narrowing his eyes, Jak crowded closer. He placed both hands down on the counter, trapping Dax between his muscular arms. 

His breath hitched, freezing inside his lungs. Suddenly unable to breathe as Jak closed the distance between them until their noses were only centimeters apart. Dax was only partially aware of his mouth hanging open but he couldn’t even squeak out a sound. Helplessly, he stared with shimmering wide eyes, anticipating the blonde’s next move…and it wasn’t until a shit-eating grin spread up Jak’s face did he realize he was being teased.

“Ugh!” Planting a hand into his face, he petulantly shoved him away. “Asshole!”

Chuckling like the jackass he was, Jak backed off and gave him some space. “You look fine, Dax. Good as new.”

Dax grumbled, curled his legs up on the countertop and turned his chin in the air. “I better . By the way, ever heard of mouthwash?”

Ignoring the jab, Jak’s ears abruptly perked like he’d just thought of a good idea. “Hey. Wanna smoke?” he asked.

“Ya mean like a cigarette?” Dax recalled the shitty experience with Sig and immediately shook his head. “No way. That shit burnt my throat like swallowing a hot coal.”

“No. That shit stinks. I meant weed.”

Red brows rose high enough to cause wrinkles in his forehead. “Why the hell do you have drugs?”

Jak shrugged flippantly and focused on digging through a cabinet. “You didn’t question the beer.”

Huh. True. “I mean, beer is more common,” Dax protested half-heartedly. “You could probably find a pack in a gutter if yer lucky enough.” He cocked his head. “Isn't that enough?”

“There are different ways to numb the brain, you know.”

“You mean numb the pain . All I need is a fruity drink and a good meat-beating sesh…” Dax smirked raunchily. “Unless that doesn't do it for you?”

Jak spared a quick unamused glare. “I will smack you.”

He shrugged the threat off easily and Jak returned to digging through his supplies.

“Wanna tell me where you got the goods then?”

“Let’s just say…” Jak turned around with his hands full of miscellaneous items he couldn’t put a name to. “I have friends in high places.”

Dax’s expression immediately darkened. “ Do you? ”

His face fell with the realization of his implications and he pinched his eyes closed. “No, Dax - It’s just a saying. I meant that I have connections.”

That wasn’t necessarily better. “Right, ‘course you do.” Glaring grudgingly at the floor, Dax brewed in his thoughts. Connections. All of means to an end to warfare, probably. “Not that you’d tell me about it.” He finished the thought out loud.

“Hey,” came the bitter refute, “you said one step at a time, and I am.”

“Fine, sure, whatever.” Fuck that. Jak had ‘connections’, aka people he trusted in Haven more than Daxter. His belly surged with red-hot jealousy and betrayal. So much for thinking he was a special exception. However, a wave of self-deprecation doused the burn, engulfing him with the notion that despite his efforts, he just wasn't good enough to be unique–

“Daxter.” Jak didn't sound impressed. Maybe he could read all of Dax's thoughts from his twisted expression. “It's not as bad as you're making it. You’re not the only person in this city that I talk to, but you are my best friend. Okay?” With that final tone, Jak waved him over. “C'mere. This'll help you relax.”

Best friend. Wasn’t that a delightful little title? 

Dax side-eyed him, all comfortable on the steel floor, before turning away stubbornly. “No. I told you that shit burns.”

“Not if you do it right.”

“You just know everything, don't you?” Dax groused. His resolve was crumbling like wet sand in the face of Jak’s charming confidence. Maybe he should’ve been more disturbed by that small bundle inside insisting he listen to Jak above everything else.

“Maybe. Now quit pouting and c'mere ,” Jak repeated the order, and Daxter was already sliding off the counter and settling down next to him.

-/-

“How do you feel?”

Daxter’s muddled brain struggled to answer that. How did he feel? “Um. I feel… floaty?” Raising a hand in the air, he wiggled it around and unceremoniously dropped it back down, hitting Jak’s thigh in the process.

They were laying side-by-side on Jak’s small bed-mat. They had splayed the blanket over it, to hopefully give the illusion of more space. It ended up being moot, as they both squeezed onto the deep cushion in the middle. There was only one pillow they were both trying to hog for themselves.

A deep chuckle from Jak’s chest was his reply and for whatever reason Dax also found that to be hilarious and he giggled.

Their quiet laughter echoed through the bunker for several moments. Cheeks aching from his grin, Dax nuzzled his head into Jak’s shoulder until the hilarity passed.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Jak contently closed his eyes, sinking further into the mat. “You had a shit day.”

“I did!” Dax thought back to Erol and didn’t feel a single twinge of dread. “But thanks to you I’m cool as a cucumber.” 

He felt freer than he had in a very long time. No matter how hard he recalled the worst aspects of his life - of Erol’s threats, of his anxiety, his non-existent purpose, his forbidden friendship that could collapse any day - none of it had an effect. His breathing only deepened with his steady heartbeat. 

He was carefree, and molten gooey chocolate straight from the oven, and safe, and it was all thanks to this one amazing man that he knew he didn’t fucking deserve. 

Warmth brushed against his hand as Jak silently entwined their fingers together. Smiling, Dax squeezed the handhold. This was so nice. This was comfy. This was his . 

What a great fucking way to end a terrible day. 

Nestling his face into Jak’s shoulder, he happily fell into a cozy, deep sleep. 

Chapter Text

Easing into consciousness slowly, Dax was unaware of his surroundings. What time is it? What day is it?

He blinked his bleary eyes open, soaking in the sight of the bunker. Why was he laying on the floor of Jak’s bunker? 

Moaning, he instinctively reached over to grab his communicator. The light emanating from the screen nearly blinded him. It was morning. Oh yeah. He’d spent the night after leaving school. 

Dropping the communicator, Dax yawned until his jaw creaked. As his brain booted up, he registered that he was colder than usual; the air distinctly chilly outside his comfy pocket. Craning his neck, he looked up to see the furnace’s glow had died to a pitiful handful of embers. Well, that would do it. 

He reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes and took sudden notice of the tangible warmth pressed against his back. Jak was spooning him, his arm a lax weight across Dax’s waist. Butterflies tickled his stomach. Dax reached down and gently brushed his fingers against Jak’s. Some time during the night, they had pulled the blanket over them into a pseudo-burrito. It was delightfully cozy, almost enough for him to fall back into a doze. 

Petting Jak’s hand, he thought of how wonderful yesterday had been - and what a fucking nightmare. Dax frowned. They had coped for a while but ignoring the situation wouldn’t just make it disappear. Sig had been right. He needed to tell someone. Jak and Keira were nice, but they couldn’t do shit in the grand scheme of things. Well, consider me fully awake now . There was no going back to sleep with the stabbing anxiety causing the surrounding warmth to become stifling and uncomfortable.

Briefly, he considered just sneaking out like an unwelcome one-night stand. And as amusing as that was, the water they were in was too deep to be taking risks like that. Sighing, he choppily rolled over until he was facing Jak. He took an appreciative moment to examine his friend in all his vulnerable peacefulness. Tenderly sliding his free hand up, he caressed his cheek - and then began to smack it. “Rise and shine, Jakkie-boy!”

Jak snorted and flinched away, quickly getting tangled in the blanket. Blinking rapidly, he squinted at Daxter until recognition hit. With a groan, he flopped back onto the bed mat. 

Daxter sat up, disrupting their little nest, and cackled, “Up and at ‘em! The birds are chirping! The coffee is brewing! And I~ need to take a piss!”

Jak grunted groggily in acknowledgement at Daxter’s way of saying he wanted to leave. For as homely as the bunker was, it only had a chemical toilet. Being a bit of a germaphobe, he refused to use it. Even Jak preferred just taking advantage of almost every establishment in the city while he was out. It was convenient that way. Without running water, he used the nearest gym for hygienic necessities. Dax had offered the big lug to stop by and use his shower but thus far it hadn't been taken up.

“Man, walking all the way home is gonna suck.” The higher pitch of his voice was distinguishable. 

Jak caught onto it easily. He slowly blinked at the ceiling before forcing himself up into a sitting position. “Yeah… just give me five minutes,” he yawned. 

His fluffy mane of messy green-blonde curls was so damn endearing. Grinning, Dax leaned over until his head was cushioned on a broad shoulder. “I'll pay for breakfast.”

Jak jerked slightly, but after a tense second, Dax felt a hand slide down his back and settle over his hip. “Alright.”

-/-

There wasn't school but Dax wouldn't let the issue rest until tomorrow. 

The guards sent him an inquisitive look at the door but didn't prevent him from entering the Academy, and Daxter made his way toward Torn’s office without a hitch. 

The door was slightly ajar. Before he could knock, the echo of quiet voices caught his attention. Ears saluting, Dax peeked through the crack. The angle was off, so he couldn't see who was talking. Poking out his tongue, Dax carefully inched the door further. The trick had never worked on Torn, his eyes like a hawk, but this time there was no gravelly growl to refute him. Huh. Dax squished his face to get a better look - and it was suddenly obvious why Torn was so distracted.

Ashelin was there, talking to Torn in a hushed tone, her back to the door.

Oooooh. Cue cartoonishly large eyes. Dax wiggled gleefully. Finally! He could see the supposed lovebirds in action. Just the way Ashelin was sitting on the corner of the desk like she had ownership over it told him plenty . No wonder Torn hadn’t noticed him yet, with the way he was ogling her - hanging on to every word with deep concentration. 

Dax desperately wished he could snap a photo and send it to Tess, but then he thought of somethin’ even funnier… Kicking the door in, Dax held his arms out. “Hell-llooo, Ladies and Gents!”

Predictably, they flinched. Ashelin’s hand snapped to her hip, finger already unclasping her gun before she fully registered the situation. Torn had nearly floundered backwards out of his chair. They both sent him deathly glares.

“You’re real lucky you don’t have a gaping hole in your skull right now.” Ashelin sneered as she straightened up. 

A cheshire-cat grin spread up his face. “I’m not interrupting anythin’, am I?”

Torn at least had the decency to look embarrassed. His eyes remained glued to his desk as he meticulously organized a clutter of papers. Ashelin coolly brushed herself off. “I need to head back to work anyway.” She turned and met Torn’s eyes. After a brief pause of held contact they both nodded. Her hand lifted, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before she sauntered towards Dax. Looming a full head taller she glared down her nose at him. “I heard about yesterday.”

Humor snuffed out, Dax preemptively wrapped his arms around himself. “Yeah…?” 

“Yeah. As much as I want the Dark Warrior sedated, Erol has no right to be pulling you out of class like that. Making a scene…putting a target on your back.” She tsked with disgust. 

Fear crawled down his neck. Is that what he had done? His fellow classmates had indeed appeared jealous when he returned.

“Keep your guard up. Torn and I can’t protect you from him.” Ashelin’s lip curled over sharp, white teeth. “My father’s greasy little henchman…”

Torn cleared his throat. “Ashe.”

She blinked before straightening up again. The confidence rolling off over her was almost smothering. Without another word, she swaggered out the door, making sure to close it behind her.

Daxter stared after her for several contemplative moments. “Again,” he finally turned to face his brother with a scolding grimace. “ Why don’t you invite her to dinner? Do you know how freakin’ awesome it would be to have the Princess as my sister-in-law?”

“Don’t let her hear you say that. She’ll actually shoot you.” Torn deliberately skipped over any romantic implications and finally rearranged his paperwork into something resembling neatness. “Why are you here?”

Dax scoffed, “Why are you so emotionally constipated?” Without further ado, he settled comfortably in the chair across the desk. “The same reason your Ladylove mentioned - I ain’t just gonna let that creepo walk all over me. So who the heck can I complain to?”

“Me,” Torn said with tired resignation. “HR won’t do shit. In fact they’ll just find something to blame you with.” He dug into a caddy and nonchalantly waved a paper between them.

Dax plucked it and lifted an incredulous brow at the ‘Harassment Complaint Form’ title. “This… won't help me.”

Torn rubbed his forehead with a disgruntled sigh. “It won't. The only thing I can do is talk to him. The Baron could give him a verbal slap on the wrist but…” his voice darkened, “The Baron doesn't particularly care.”

With a keen pitch of misery, Dax pointedly slapped the paper down and away from him. “This fuckin’ sucks.”

Torn tucked the paper back into its place. “Is there something I need to know?” Ice cold blue eyes pinned him, brooking no excuses. “Couldn’t wait til I got home?”

Welp, that was as far as Torn would admit that he was worried. Daxter fidgeted uncomfortably. “Yeah…and we both know Tessie can’t handle this. So can we keep it on the downlow?” He had taken the risk with Jak not to escalate the situation and while he had almost acted on emotional impulsiveness, he ultimately hadn’t for Dax’s sake. Tess, on the other hand, would. The gal had scared a hospital staff shitless just for the crime of treating Dax’s wounds by proximity. Without a doubt, she would hunt Erol down - and then what would the repercussions be? No, her rash protectiveness was a liability to all of them and Dax would protect her this time.

“I’ll make the call on that.” Torn scooted his chair closer and inclined his chin, waiting. 

Daxter sighed. “Fine. And don’t get the wrong idea; I’m not tellin’ you cause you know the asshole. I just feel like if I keep it a secret, I’ll be the one sawing at the anvil over our heads.”

Other than a crease of his brows, Torn remained motionless as stone.

His stomach bottomed queasily. Get it all out, spare the gritty details. Easy! His eyes dipped away out of a mixture of shame and disquiet. “He threatened me,” Dax spat out quickly, nearly tripping over the words. “Told me he’d ‘break’ me if I didn’t give him what he wanted. Even tried to use my guy friend as leverage. He’s been watching us” –his eyes met Torn’s grimly– “at our house. ”

Torn’s chest hitched on a deep breath. The office chair squeaked as Torn twisted slightly to the side. He rubbed a palm over his mouth, eyes glaring daggers at nothing in particular. “I see… I’ll have to warn Tess. Leaving her unawares will only put her in danger. But–” He quickly interjected Daxter’s protests. “I won't mention you.”

Closing his mouth, Dax reluctantly conceded because that was a good counterpoint. “Makes sense.”

The troubled expression didn’t change. “Ashelin never mentioned a change in patrols, and I haven’t noticed anything odd at home.” After a long beat of calculation, Torn relaxed and nodded to himself. "For now, I’m calling Erol’s bluff.”

Daxter’s ears shot straight up. “Huh?”

“Erol is a glory seeker and a control freak. Has been since the day I met him.” His mouth thinned sourly at the memories. “Used to do street races before he became a professional. Listen, he’s just trying to scare you into giving him what he wants, whether what you’re saying is true or not.”

“Why…?”

“You’re the first person on record to escape the Dark Warrior unscathed. He’s never taken a hostage before. Even the Baron put your report to the side. I imagine Erol’s ego is severely bruised and he wants the Baron’s spotlight once more.”

The idea of the Baron prioritizing his report over all others made Dax lightheaded. He nearly swayed and toppled out of his seat. Once upon a time, he would’ve salivated over that. He had wanted to bring Jak’s head to the Baron’s palace steps and receive all the praise the city could offer. They would’ve honored him. He would have made history. The Baron would’ve offered him a cushy spot right in the Palace. Maybe even make him Erol’s replacement as his right-hand man.

“Daxter?”

He opened his eyes - when had he closed them? - and saw Torn’s concerned face as the darkness receded from his vision. “What?”

“You’re sweating."

Dax hastily wiped at his forehead and stared down at the glistening pads of his fingers. Only then he was distracted by the fact he was trembling. “Uh…” He filled his lungs, fighting back the pins and needles in his stomach. Precursors, he felt sick.

“Do not throw up on my floor.” Torn’s voice was scathing but he was rising from his chair, ready to help.

“I’m good, I’m good!” Dax scrubbed at his face, and grinned tersely when his hands dropped to his lap. “I didn’t know the Baron noticed me! That’s uh, wowza! Ha, ha! A dream come true, y’know? Didn’t mean to get overwhelmed like that.”

“You’re not overwhelmed,” Torn corrected as he stiffly settled back down. “You’re pale . And you better drink some water before you drive home.”

“D’aww!” Clasping his hands together, Dax batted his eyelashes sweetly. “My big brother cares sooo much about me!” The sarcasm was his coping mechanism. He needed it, needed it, like the air he breathed. Anything to push away those horrible, disturbing thoughts. He couldn’t fucking think. His stomach clenched again, and he quickly gulped down the saliva flooding his mouth.

Torn rolled his eyes. “You’re even uglier when you try to be cute.”

Dax adeptly crumpled up the closest paper and threw the ball at Torn’s head. He missed. “Says the guy that burned off his eyebrows ‘cause he thought it looked cool. How's that going for you by the way? Y’know they got serums for that.”

“When are you going to visit the orthodontist? Braces are a thing.”

“When you pay the bill. I know you got dental.”

The banter ended when Torn bent down to pick up his wayward paper ball. As his brother diligently straightened it out, Dax took advantage of the silence to calm down further. Torn was right, he needed to visit the nearest vending machine to grab some water. Besides, he had a busy day planned ahead…

“Shit,” Torn mumbled as his eyes scanned over the ruined paper.

Dax perked up. “Uh-oh?”

“This was a student application for the next semester.” Torn didn’t sound particularly upset with him, so Dax didn’t bother apologizing. “I need to enter it into the system anyway, but it’ll be difficult to read.”

“How does someone get accepted anyway?” Dax cocked his head curiously, eager for a distraction. 

“Doesn’t require a lot. All they need to pass is a background check and drug screening.”

Daxter knew that but he hadn’t been sure if that really was the bare minimum. Literally the day he’d first come in here, all he had to do was let Torn scan his barcode, give him a packet, and send him down to the finance office. But, Torn never willingly talked about his work, and Dax had never loitered in his office until today. “For some reason I thought ya needed approval from someone else. Like a joint decision?”

Almost comically, Torn promptly opened a drawer and pulled out an ink pad. “It’s the Baron’s sigil. But I’m the one stamping.”

“Sheesh, no wonder yer so grumpy all the dang time!” Dax swept his arm out in an arch before slumping back in his chair. “Yer doin’ way too much!”

Torn smiled at him in that unique way where his lips curled up one side. “It’s not overwhelming, especially on days like this. The building’s practically empty.”

“Ahhh,” Dax grinned cheekily and lifted his eyebrows suggestively. “Is that why you were canoodling with yer mistress?”

That rare open fondness immediately fell off Torn’s face, leaving an unamused glower. “We were discussing important matters, actually.” His face pinched, and he regarded Daxter more intensely. “Ashelin was right though, I’d be on guard. If Erol tries to pull you from class again, refuse. I’ll talk to Sig so he knows, too. And don’t walk alone for now. Give it some time, I’m sure he’ll get bored.”

Back to that again. At least now he’d be heading home with a plan. Mission successful, and it was a relief. Dax trusted Torn to be the judge of those decisions, and nodded to indicate his credence. 

“By the way.” His gravelly voice dipped in a way never heard before, instantly catching Dax's attention. “You don’t have to tell me how you beat the Dark Warrior, but…” Torn met his eyes. “I’m impressed.”

Warmth blossomed in his chest. It wasn’t the ‘proud of you’ he had been chasing after all these years but really nothing in his life had ever been conventional. Daxter could read between the lines easily and recognized the approval. His eyes softened, silently soaking in the moment before the earnesty was dropped for smugness. Dax smirked and buffed his nails on his shirt. “I know. What was that ya said before? I’m the only one? Ya didn’t even mention the part where I took the fugly sonuvabitch down allll on my own. Had him running with his tail tucked between his legs. Is there a medal for that? If not, can they make one? Ooh, what about my face in the paper?”

That continued on for a while. 

-/-

Daxter returned home later than usual. The sun had already begun to set by the time he opened the front door, his arms full of well earned compensation from a long quest.

“Honey, I'm home!”

“Daxxie!” came the resounding chirp.

The vague scent of chemical cleaner caught his nose. Welp, she'd apparently been busy on her day off. He ventured deeper into the house, heading straight for the living room. 

Tess was curled near the armrest. A half-eaten sandwich and iced coffee rested on the coffee table. Errands too? Okay, maybe a bit more than busy.

As he leaned down to kiss her cheek, he noticed the tablet on her lap with gun designs and blueprints. Alright, that’s it. “Oh cmon, baby!” He complained aloud, “Not on yer day off!”

“When the muse hits, it hits!” Tess defended herself. “I really was just watching TV but this show is pretty inspiring.”

Dax glanced at the television and saw some poorly-acted soap opera. There was a lady crying, another lady screaming, and a random dude uncomfortable in the background. Typical shit. “Uh-huh…”

“Gabriella is a bitch,” Tess seethed, “I would just dare her to talk to me like that.”

Daxter unloaded his goodies - a stack of papers - onto the coffee table and plopped down onto the couch. “Should I be concerned you only think about weapons when yer angry?”

“It’s easier than anger management and puts food on the table.” She tucked the tablet away and wrapped an affectionate arm around him, hauling him into her side. “Where have you been? I wanted to spend the day with you!”

“Out and about.”

“Mhm. You didn’t come home last night…”

Dax winced marginally, a flood of memories overwhelming him in the time it took to blink. “I spent the night at a friend’s.” He realized his mistake too late as she tensed beside him. “Tess, no. Nothing happened, geez!”

“I’m not against it. It’s going to happen eventually. I just…” she sighed and turned her head to give him a pleading look. “Don’t want you taken advantage of. Please read at least one book?” 

Clenching his eyes tight, Dax let his head flop back. It’s going to happen eventually. He knew what the intention was but Precursors, all he could think about was the context. It’s going to happen eventually… with Jak. A flush rose to his cheeks, staining pale skin red. Would it though? Like, sure, maybe there was an undeniable odd tension between them. And, sure , maybe Dax thought Jak was the sexiest thing on legs. And, suuuure, maybe he wouldn’t mind something funky going down - but Jak had said it himself: they were best friends. Just best friends. And that probably wouldn’t change, ever.

But the intrusive thought was there now. Experimenting mentally, Dax thought about Jak under a new light. 

Jak’s sultry smirk as he tediously peeled off his tunic, revealing defined pectorals. Dax swallowed heavily and reached out to run his hands over chiseled abs. Jak’s smirk curled further and he easily manhandled Dax closer to his warm body, sliding a big palm down Dax’s back until it curled over a pale ass and squeezed-

While there was a deliciously hot pool in his gut - there was also a sharp nick of guilt contrasting it. Their situation was already fucked enough without further complications. Jak was unaware of being used as sexual fodder, and Dax didn’t want to feel sleazy. Consider all hot fantasies officially booked . Dax opened his eyes again and blinked at Tess’s concerned face.

“I’m not trying to embarrass you, sweetie.” She had misunderstood the color of his cheeks. “This isn’t something you can just drive blindly into.”

“Yeah, yeah. Gimme the damn book.”

“Oh! I appreciate it, honeybun!” Tess pulled him closer so she could pepper kisses over his face. “I love it when you do the right thing!”

Daxter’s voice deepened, “Oh? Tell me what else you love.” He cupped her cheeks and nuzzled his nose against hers. “You love it when I agree with everythin’ you say, turtledove?”

“You know it, pookie!” She giggled and reciprocated the physical affection before pulling away. “We better stop before we get caught by Torn again.”

Dax snorted at the memory. He lifted a hand to his mouth in shock and swiveled his head to look towards the door, like it might burst open any second. “Oh, the scandal~!” 

They loved each other, and used to make a game out of tiptoeing the line between platonic and incestuous. Not with each other, of course, they knew where they stood in that department  - but in public.

When Dax had just started at the Academy, he and Tess took the opportunity in the cafeteria, when it was bustling with off-duty officers. They had introduced themselves as siblings, conveniently leaving out the adopted part. Then proceeded to spend their break feeding each other, sitting in each other's laps, and kissing cheeks. The looks on people’s faces had been hysterical. Tess and Daxter had barely kept a poker face the whole time. Torn, on the other hand, had been furious. Turns out there had been a mountain of complaint forms piling up in his office and he had done everything but get on his knees and beg them to knock off the PDA. 

That had made the prank completely worth it, but they did indeed knock it off when Tess started full time at the Weapons Factory. 

“Whatcha got there?” Tess eyed the papers inquisitively. 

Finally, she had noticed. Dax couldn’t have made it more obvious. “The reason I’ve been gone all day!” He picked them up and unceremoniously dropped them into her lap. “Check it out!”

Her eyes punctiliously scanned down the first paper. A crease formed between her brows. By the second and third paper, her mouth was ajar in understanding. “Are these job applications?”

He nodded. 

“Oh, sweetheart!” The papers crinkled as she leaned over to hug him. “I don’t know what to say, I’m just-” her arms squeezed him. “I’m so proud of you!”

His grin was wobbly. “Really?”

“Of course! If this is what you want , of course I am! Have you told Torn yet?”

“I haven’t seen him in awhile.” The lie burned his tongue like acid, but he continued on. “And I wanted to make sure I did it first before saying anything. Y’know. Proof of commitment and all.” ‘ The amount of groveling he did to get you back in here .’ Dax winced. “You, uh… think he’ll be upset?”

“No! No, honey. He wants you to explore your options, not just stick to a career you think he expects you to do.”

“Yeah… yer right.” The reassurance plus the memories reminding him that Torn indeed did push him to branch out more calmed him down. “I dunno if I’m gonna drop out just yet, but…” Dax shrugged one shoulder sheepishly.

“You’re one step closer,” Tess finished. With another giddy smile she gave him one last kiss on the forehead and settled back into the couch. “Wanna watch a movie before bed?”

Erol had gotten to him - but Daxter was surrounded by love. He grinned and leaped from the couch. “I’ll get the popcorn!”

Chapter Text

Daxter sidestepped his fellow classmates as they practiced in the combat facility.

The wack of their weapons hitting silicone dummies filled the room. His target was standing on the sidelines, casually observing their progress. The redhead had been waiting for the past thirty minutes for others to just bug off and stop asking the big man so many questions. Now was his chance. He slid up to Sig, casually looking out over the room, playing it cool. “Hey there, Siggy.”

“Kid,” Sig greeted with a hint of amusement. “Everything everything?” Subtle concern underlined the question.

“Yeah, uh…” Dax scratched at his chin, finally regarding his teacher with an apprehensive glance. “Just had some… inquiries.”

Sig’s eye softened. “Your brother gave me a heads up. You ain’t-”

“No. I ain’t worried about wanderin’ ginger psychopaths at the moment.” Daxter waved his wrist. 

Erol hadn’t bothered him since the incident, and both of his siblings had been on guard-dog duty, scanning the perimeter for any possible stalker tendencies, but so far hadn’t found anything. 

Now that the terror had passed and no imminent threats were on the horizon, he was actually kinda grateful the maniac had brought him and Jak closer together. Go figure.

“Actually, I wanna ask you about somethin’ else completely. Um.” Shoot. Was this topic taboo? Would this somehow open a can of worms, leading to him getting in trouble? Anything was possible, really. Sig was a chill guy…sometimes. But despite all of his older brother energy, he was still on the other side , and therefore couldn’t be trusted. “I kinda wanted to ask about … eco.” The word fell flat, but Dax felt a tightening pain of anxiety in his stomach.

Sig’s ears flagged, obviously not expecting that to come out of his mouth. “Eco, huh?” Settling one palm on Dax’s shoulder, he manhandled him further away from any possible eavesdroppers. “You know everything I do, chillipepper.” His voice was perplexed, but at least he wasn’t upset.

“I know,” he placated, “I know. It’s just.. I was wonderin’. Is there any eco out there that could, theoretically benefit the city? In the right hands, I mean!”

Memory overwhelmed him, and he nearly shuddered at the phantom feeling of green eco channeling throughout his body. Jak had referred to it as quick working medicine, but in actuality he should’ve mentioned it was a spa day and therapeutic massage crammed into a millisecond. Nothing had ever felt that relaxing.

Sig’s facial expression fell blankly. Dax didn’t like the look in his eye - he had never regarded him with that deep rooted comprehension before - and icy horror gripped him. He knew this was a bad idea! Now, Sig would report him and-!

“Uh-huh. Define benefit. ” Sig asked skeptically. “The only right hands are the User’s hands.”

Dax bit his lip uncertainly. “I just mean - you said it’s natural.” He lost his bravado and couldn’t meet Sig’s eye. “You said that eco can do anything. Can it save lives? Heal the sick?” Shit, too specific! Derail, you idiot! “Uh. Prevent famine? Stop plagues? Gift immortality... sprout wings…. y’know, wacky shit.”

That had Sig’s shoulders relaxing. The suspicious, calculating gleam vanished in an instant. The big guy laughed and ruffled his hair. “You’re a riot, little guy. Unfortunately, even if eco could do that, the Users obviously chose not to go that route. Precursors only know why. Much more interested in burning faces off, apparently.”

Dax batted him away with an irritated whine. Then curiously scanned his teacher up and down. “Where were you when it happened? I was only fun-sized.”

“I don’t mind sharin’ a little, I suppose.” Sig made sure to inspect the room as he spoke, just in case there were any slackers. “I was in the Palace. There weren’t any Krimzon Guards back then. Just soldiers. In fact, I was only a couple floors down from the incident.” Sig hummed. “I lost this just a few weeks after the King escaped.” Bending down, he patted his metal leg.

Mouth dry, Dax warily stared before his eyes flickered away. “Musta been scary.”

“Oh, more than you can imagine.” Sig boomed with a hearty laugh. The unexpected joyful sound forced Daxter’s tension to loosen up.

However, another tiny thought distracted him. Red brows furrowed slightly. “You worked in the Palace … for the King? Didja ever meet him?”

Sig’s smile disappeared. Oof. “Discussing the old King is illegal.” His tone was firm and authoritative, immediately putting Dax back into his place. Reeling back some of the sharp edge, Sig quietly admitted “Yeah, I met him. Very reserved man, if that comes as a shock.”

It didn’t. Why would it? Dax didn’t know a damn thing about him. He only remembered a bulky man with a crown of thorns. 

Praxis was shameless when it came to boasting about the fact that any ruler besides himself never existed. Had a spectacular book burning ceremony to erase The King Who Shall Not Be Named, and any ancestors, from existence. Daxter had been too little for that spectacle, but he did vaguely remember a huge bonfire in front of the Palace steps... 

The only evidence that remained were the two inciting incidents of the King attacking Praxis, and when he escaped his fate. And those clips could be easily found in the Archives. Old news.  

Daxter didn’t want to talk about dusty royalty. He flailed his arms in the air. “Anyway. I was askin’ about eco! Y’know, the magical, totally natural goo! Why doesn’t Praxis-”

Sig snorted and shook his head, as if Dax was being ludicrous. “Natural disasters are called just that. Natural. You’re not gonna go around questioning why more people don’t sing the praises of tornadoes and earthquakes, are you?”

Dax frowned. “No…”

“Alright then.” Conversation apparently over, Sig began to walk away. “Oh, and Daxter? Don’t think I didn’t notice you haven’t lifted a finger since we got here. Get to it or I’m kickin’ your ass.”

“Yes, sir,” he drawled sardonically. Motion in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and as if on cue, Keira cheerfully waved at him from one of the mats. Dax acknowledged her with a little wave of his own. They hadn’t really talked since the fiasco with Erol.

Normally he would listen obediently to Sig’s orders, because he knew the big man wasn’t bluffing. And he typically enjoyed his time with Keira, when she wasn’t poking his nerves like the little gremlin sister she was…

Today, though, his mind was a million miles away from all of this. Something itched under his skin, ready to be set free. Turning his back, he pulled out his communicator. Jak had gotten a new burner, and this time, Dax wisely didn’t put his name in his contacts, just in case his communicator was confiscated for any sort of evidence.

/Hey, im in the mood to play hooky. Wanna get shakes?/

The response was almost immediate: /hell yeah/

Without waving goodbye to Keira, or even double-checking to ensure Sig wasn’t watching, he unabashedly strolled out the door.

-/-

“You enjoyin’ yer peanut butter and nutella?” Daxter smirked as they walked through the district with their frozen treats.

“Do you even have to ask?” Jak retorted after taking another large sip.

The redhead cheekily shook his styrofoam cup. “Maybe I'm regrettin’ cookie dough. Yers sounds really good.”

“It is.” Nonchalantly, Jak held out his own, nearly smacking Dax in the process. “Wanna try?”

Heart beating double-time, he wasted several seconds mentally swooning over Jak's sugary sweet gesture. Almost sheepishly, he bent down and wrapped his lips around the straw. Shit, this is hot. He didn't even register the taste.

Precursors, was he really this horny and pent-up? Sharing drinks and possible spit-swapping was totally a platonic, bromantic gesture. Nothing sexual about it at all. Dax gave a final suck and pulled away, licking his lips afterwards.

“Good?” Jak asked coolly, putting the straw back into his mouth.

“Yeah…” Mentally groaning, Daxter dove back into his own shake, hoping the chill would offset the molten warmth pulsing through his body.

-/-

Jak promised him something different today. To the redhead’s credit, he tried not to get too excited over the prospect. 

They were loitering near the edge of the Wall, precisely in the same area they had said their farewells and parted as children. Dax tried to remember what it looked like before, but couldn't. 

“Feelin’ nostalgic or…?”

“One step at a time,” Jak muttered quietly before looking down at him. The gleam in his eyes was almost shy. “I'm ready for a new step. Figured this would be a good place.” He shrugged with a small grin. “I can be poetic sometimes.”

“You are adorable.” Dax enunciated each word with a poke to Jak’s hard chest, and he was efficiently swatted away. Cackling at being a nuisance, he rubbed his palms together deviously. “So, what's on the agenda today, pal?”

The nervous energy was tangible. It buzzed against his skin, making him slightly agitated. Jak's attention was stubbornly caught over his shoulder for longer than necessary.

Daxter waved a palm in front of his face. “Uh, Jak?”

A hand wrapped around his upper arm and tugged him into the nearest alley. Secluded from any wandering eyes, Jak searched the perimeter before finally meeting his gaze. “I want to transform.” The words tumbled out too quickly.

Despite his best effort, Dax couldn’t help but take a small step away.

Jak’s face immediately fell. “I would never-”

“I know,” he interrupted. “Jak, I know. It’s just…” Daxter squeezed his eyes shut and took a moment to collect his thoughts. “I ain’t scared of you, and I mean that. But, I have seen you-” kill people “-destroy things, and no offense, that gives me the willies.” He chanced a peek up, and his gut twisted to see Jak’s blank face, painstakingly keeping all emotions hidden away. It couldn’t be helped. Honesty was the best policy, and sometimes the truth hurt… That didn’t mean he would let the painful moment stay its welcome. With Jak, everything was best to keep a move on. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

After taking a second to compose himself, Jak gestured with a tilt of his head toward the Wall. “I want to show you how I cross over that.”

That instantly had his attention. Dax’s ears perked up with intrigue. “Oh yeah! You were invisible.”

Jak nodded with subtle nervousness.

What a funny lil thought. A brazen smirk tugged at his lips. “Care to share yer secrets, Mr. Ghost?”

That title abruptly had Jak rolling his eyes and scoffing. “Yeah, I dunno who came up with that, but it’s ridiculous.”

“Not gonna say I disagree, but who can blame ‘em! What would you call an invisible presence walking around?”

“I wouldn’t call it anything before I checked my sanity and vision first. Then I’d demand answers with force.”

Dax snickered, until he remembered he himself had indeed gotten answers through violence, and that had his mouth snapping shut. 

Jak apparently remembered too, and his expression twisted with unease. He coughed into his fist. “Anyway. If you touch me while I am, you’ll be invisible too. Don't even have to channel the eco, it'll do all the work.”

Pure giddiness engulfed him. Dax beamed and let out his excitement by bouncing on his feet. “Alright!”

The momentary detriment between them vanished. Jak couldn’t wipe the bemused smile away as he scanned Dax up and down. “Excited are we?”

“Uh, yeah! Ya just told me I get to be invisible! That’s like havin’ a superpower! Okay, when can we start? I wanna start now.”

His exaggerated rambling was cut short as Jak quickly held up a palm. “Okay, we need to discuss some things before we jump to it.”

Daxter playfully froze and stared at him with wide, bug eyes.

Jak snorted. “You’re going to ride piggyback. Think you can hold on for that long?”

This time, he eyed the Wall with serious calculation. While it was intimidatingly tall, it wouldn’t be an impossible feat. Dax grinned and flexed his scrawny arm. “Easy-peasy, tough guy!”

Indulgently, Jak rolled his eyes, before taking on a much more solemn tone. “Second, the dark eco is hard to control, even for me. It sorta has its own aura.” Fists clenched, he grimaced and spoke through gritted teeth. “I dunno if you remember…from before. It will hurt you as long as you’re near me.”

That instantly wiped the boisterous grin away. In fairness, Dax barely remembered the burning sensation that had clawed at his back. His brain had been too preoccupied prioritizing the panic over anything else. “Eh, kinda. How bad would ya say?”

“I’ve been told it feels like being poked with a taser or hot knife.” The guilt passed, which Dax was grateful for; he never wanted his friend to feel culpable over something out of his control. “If it’s too much, just let me know and I’ll climb back down.”

Dax appreciated the reassurance. He knew he could handle the pain, it was the unknown that gave him the jitters. “I’ve been tased before-” Jak’s eyes widened, and he was quick to wave it off. “Part of our training, big guy. Totally safe environment.”

Jak merely grunted. Given his irked expression, he begged to differ, but didn’t feel like challenging the claim.

Nothing could dampen the redhead’s brightened excitement, though. This felt like the start of a new adventure they were about to embark on. A new experience for both of them. A new window to bond. Sign him right the hell up.

Unable to withhold it, he wiggled his shoulders. “Alright! I’m ready for the superpowers. Let’s do this.”

Jak sighed fondly. Even he didn’t have a defense against Daxter’s gleaming exhilaration. “I appreciate the enthusiasm...”

They double checked for any witnesses or security cameras in the vicinity first. Jak inhaled and closed his eyes, not self-conscious about his one and only audience member. The wind seemed to shift - the air surrounding them tunneling in like a vacuum. Dax froze as he felt an electrical charge course through his body, as if he had just frantically rubbed his socks on a carpet. All of his hair stood on end, and that was his only warning before a snarl ripped out of Jak’s throat and a bright, purple flash erupted outwards. Self-preservation kicked in. Covering his face with his arms, he scurried away until his back hit the wall. His ears twitched at the sound of electricity cracking.

Seeing the Dark Warrior in front of him had his heart leaping into throat. Memories overflowed of all the destruction this monster had caused with ease. Like acid, the memories twisted with dread, and suddenly Jak was lying on the ground, lifeless and bleeding out, by Daxter’s own hand. 

Squeezing his eyes closed, Dax shook himself off until he could get a hold of his rampaging emotions. 

They were both safe.

He knew it was Jak, he knew it. And he wasn’t afraid. However, he tried his damnedest to force that rational thinking to overcome his jittering fight-or-flight reflexes. 

It was still his best friend under all of the spooky makeup.

His best friend. Right.

That trust was still there. He just had to remember it. 

Scrupulously, Dax approached his friend. The purple lightning crackling around him occasionally bit into his skin, it hurt just as much as getting pinched, but he carefully kept the wince off his face. 

When he was only inches apart, Dax took a silent moment to stare into twin pools of black abyss. Jak’s shoulders were noticeably tense, but he remained still as a statue - waiting.

He let the moment drag out, and when the anticipation became almost unbearable, he slowly raised his hand as if he were about to caress Jak’s face.

“Boop.”

He poked Jak’s nose with the tip of his finger.

Jak wrinkled his nose in surprise then smirked down at him, showing off all his vicious fangs.

Daxter laughed.

-/-

Well, Jak had absolutely not been exaggerating when he warned him about the dark eco's bite. Only instead of a hot knife, it was more like he was hugging a hot furnace. Without a shirt on. And the furnace was scolding hot. Like infernos of hell hot.

Okay, that was all an exaggeration but still . Dark eco was no fuckin’ joke. 

Dax kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he clung to Jak’s back like a spider monkey, mindful of eye-poking sharp horns that he couldn't freakin’ see.

The worst part of it all was being invisible was not as gratifying as he had expected. There was something vertigo-inducing about not seeing his own body, like walking down a flight of stairs without seeing where his feet were.

Jak climbed gracefully up the Wall, using both his hands and feet, and moving slow enough as not to jostle his passenger. 

When Dax peeped his eyes open, he could see the dull shimmer of Jak’s claws snagging into already dug out grooves, perfectly spread each distance apart.

“Clever boy,” Dax whispered, before he felt another punch of nausea, and wisely buried his face into Jak’s tresses, the softness immediately soothing him.

-/-

They ensured they were far enough away from where the Guards patrolled the perimeter before separating.

As soon as there was a respectable distance between them, the dark eco drained from his body, its power gravitating back towards Jak like a magnet.

Relieved to see his body again, Dax gleefully wiggled his fingers in front of his face. “Okay, I’m gonna say it, that sucked! But it was also cool. But it also really sucked!”

“It takes some time to get used to,” Jak concurred as he settled down at the edge and swung his legs over. Silently, Dax sat down next to him.

They stared out over moving sands, soaking in the view. 

The guard shift would rotate soon, only giving them a slimmer of time without burning eco. No matter their position, someone was bound to notice them eventually.

“Every second I’m not a ghost is a pleasant one,” Dax muttered sagely. His eyes inevitably landed on the Channeler's village. The curiosity overwhelmed him; that was Jak’s home. “Do you go there to rest?”

“Yeah, sometimes. There's crates of eco out there, for when my internal stores are low.”

Dax briefly pictured Jak like a communicator connecting to a charger, and smiled. “Is it nice livin’ there?”

Mutely, Jak shrugged. It was easy to tell that he wasn’t interested in delving down this road of conversation. Usually, Daxter respected that and would change the subject, but Sig’s words from earlier were writhing underneath his skin. He chewed his lip, briefly weighing the repercussions. “Hey, Jak? Does a King live out there…?”

“A King?” Jak repeated languidly, tone flat.

“Yeah. Y’know. Yer King. The one who went bonkers and attacked his advisor for Precursors knows what reason.”

The wind washed over them in the overbearing silence. Daxter didn’t dare peek up at his friend. 

His stomach jumped up into his throat when, finally, Jak chuckled - a low, rumbling sound deep in his chest. “You think a King would live in those crumbling huts and tents? No room for a throne.”

“Huh.” Dax considered the quaint town. Lifting a palm over his eyes to shield the sun, he squinted, trying to see dots of people loitering around, but he couldn’t see very well. “Guess not…” An abrupt chill ran up his spine, leaving coldness in its wake. “Wait-” He spun around to stare at Haven's Palace. “Are you tellin’ me he’s in there ?”

“Daxter.” The halfhearted beguilement was gone, leaving only solemn ice. Dax slowly met steely eyes. “He's dead.”

“ What? No." He shook his head in instant denial. "No, he's not.”

But, Jak’s expression didn’t twitch.

Daxter’s stomach clenched queasily. “How…? Did Praxis…?”

Maintaining eye contact, Jak silently lifted his finger and pantomimed slitting his own throat.

“What?” He cried in disbelief. “Why would he do that?”

Eyebrows pinched, Jak simply shrugged and turned away.

A bomb couldn’t just be dropped casually like that and forgotten. Daxter refused to move on. “No, seriously, why? Did he finally go cuckoo off his rocker? Is that why he attacked Praxis? Cause he went nuts?”

“He wasn’t-!” A strangled snarl erupted from Jak’s throat before he could bite it off. His fists clenched until his knuckles went pale. “I don’t know.” The words were clipped slowly, the warning in them clear. “This isn’t exactly small talk, Daxter.”

Jaw ajar, Dax fruitlessly searched the Wastelands for answers. His mind buzzed chaotically. The King was dead? The entire reason the war started in the first place was gone. If they weren’t following his lead… If they weren’t doing it for him … then what was the point of the war?

Their King was dead.  

Surged with overbearing anger and confusion, Dax scrambled to his feet. “He’s gone? Then what are you doin’? ”

“ Enough, Daxter.”

“No! You said they turned you into a weapon! So what are you sabotaging the city for?!”

With a snarl, Jak surged to his feet, looming over him dangerously. His eyes burned with the challenge. “You think I’m gonna sit out there on my ass for the rest of my life? Fighting for scraps? All while I stare up at this stupid wall and watch you all thrive?”

“You blow up buildings and reactors! What the hell are you accomplishing with that? You kill Guards! What’s it all for, Jak?”

“A reminder. You hate us because you're scared of us. Scared of what we're capable of. Exiling us. Killing us. Treating us like we’re vermin just for existing! All out of cowardly fear!”

“... I'm not scared of you. ”

The anger melted away, leaving a pair of weary, lonely boys in its aftermath.

They panted heavily, staring at each other. Carefully, Jak backed away out of his personal space.

Daxter’s heart hurt. This was his nightmare. He stared pensively into similar eyes, too afraid to speak and ruin everything they’d fought so hard for.

The blonde broke the silence with a deep exhale. Breaking the contact, his gaze slid to the ground. “You still go to that Academy… you haven’t given up on being a Guard.”

“I… I have, though. I put in some job applications. Once I’m hired, I’ll quit.” Daxter bit his lip, staring out at the Wasteland. He wished his words didn’t fall out like empty excuses. “I know I can’t prove it to you, but it’s the truth. Please. You’ll see.”

He reached out to gently touch his friend, but Jak shifted away, crossing his arms. “It's hard for me to truly trust you some days. You say one thing, do another…”

“What're you sayin’?” He whispered, “That I can't be reliable? That I make bad choices?”

“No.” Jak’s defensive posture slackened. “Not at all, Dax. You've made smart choices. Brave choices, kind choices.”

Heat flushed freckled cheeks. Dax scrubbed at them to hopefully hide it. “Shuddap, s’embarrassin’.”

Jak slowly inched closer, voice softening into a murmur. “I really do appreciate the blind faith you've put in me. I haven't resented anything you've done, not even when you shot me-” Dax opened his mouth to protest, but Jak held up his palm with stubborn finality. “It wasn't malicious. You didn't know. If you did something like that now…” He trailed off sarcastically.

Daxter should’ve easily matched the dry humor, but the thought was too upsetting. “I would never. ”

Immediately, Jak smiled, and like rays from the sun, it warmed his fragile heart. “I know.”

The redhead didn’t reach out again, but he shuffled his feet closer so they were only inches apart. “Well, what can I do then? Dropping the Guard like hot garbage is on the agenda. But is there anything I could do right now?”

Jak frowned. “I don't like… I don't want you to feel like you have something to prove to me.”

Dax huffed and rolled his eyes. “Throw me a bone, dude.”

"Fine." Heavily sighing, Jak mulled it over, rubbing at his green goatee. His eyes slid towards the Wastelands and Dax could see the light bulb go off. “Come with me. Down there.”

Dread stabbed his gut. Dax took several steps back, away from his friend and towards safety. “No…”

“It won't take long. The sand is a bitch to walk through, but we'll be back before the sun goes-”

“Jak, I can't. ”

Surprised blue eyes blinked down at him. Jak cocked his head, finally taking stock of Daxter’s horrified expression. “What’s wrong?”

Wrapping his arms around himself, Dax shook his head. “I just can’t, alright? I’m perfectly safe right here. ”

Jak stared. “You’ll be safe with me. ” He announced every word acutely, as if Dax was being ridiculous in his fear.

“This isn’t like the bunker!” He snapped, voicing all of his worries and trepidation in one whoosh. “This is leaving my entire world! That might as well be a different planet! I don’t even know what sand feels like! I-” Unable to take Jak’s stunned expression, his voice cut out. He buried his face in his hands. In the sanctuary of the darkness, he sucked in several trembling breaths. Defeated, his shoulders slumped down. “I’m sorry, Jak… I’m lettin’ you down. Again.”

His ears twitched at the clack of Jak’s boots approaching, but he didn’t dare move. His shoulders were suddenly weighed down by two large hands. Dax’s head snapped up quick enough to make his neck creak. His eyes connected with deep, deep blue. Jak’s expression was somber, but his eyes were hooded and tender. An open book of affection and comfort.

So gorgeous.

“Knock it off. You haven’t let me down. I told you, you don’t have anything to prove to me.” Ruefully, his lips twitched up in a smile. “I’m not enough of an asshole to force you out of your comfort zone all the time .” 

Dax chuckled unsteadily, and relaxed. "Me neither..." He couldn’t wipe the dopey, grateful grin away as he gazed into the other's eyes. "Sorry for pushin' yer buttons."

The blonde's hands slid up to curl the back of his head, fingers disappearing into red strands. “We’re still getting to know each other. One step at a time, you ‘n me.”

He had never felt this way before. Unable to identify the feeling, he could only describe it as fireworks bursting inside his chest, stealing his breath away. Tentatively, Dax eased his hands onto Jak’s chest. “Patience is a virtue, I guess,” he whispered. “We’ll get there, eventually. Together.”

I’m so fuckin’ lucky to have you, he wanted to say, but it died on his tongue. Didn’t want to make things too weird.

On an unspoken whim, they simultaneously moved. Dax dipped his chin down and ducked closer, tucking his head underneath Jak’s chin. His fingers clenched blue fabric. Muscular arms slipped around his back and pressed him into an embrace.

Jak held him close, warm and snug. Closing his eyes, Dax inhaled the smell of spice, petrichor and electrical thunderstorms, and something faintly indistinguishable. 

They stayed close for several moments, soaking in each other's warmth and scent. The fresh breeze gently rustled their hair. Heart hammering in his chest, Dax nestled his face closer into Jak’s shoulder. He wished he could hide here forever, where their lives met in the middle. Where he was safe and warm and never had to make any difficult choices. This could be his reality-

Time was up. The muscles underneath him noticeably tensed. Dax peered one eye open and in his peripheral he could see the distant elevator moving. It was time to become a ghost again. Yipee. Wait, that actually held possibilities for hilarity and shenanigans to ensue. One ghost was bad enough, but what about two ghosts?

“Okay, enough with the mush!” Dax pushed the big lug away, only to wrap an arm around his shoulders before he could stray too far. With his other hand, he tugged out his communicator. “Selfie time!”

Jak winced, and his heart fell. Not one to be deterred, he remained still, keeping the sting off his expression. 

Maybe it was Daxter’s unrelenting grin that had Jak ducking into frame again, but he bent down and gently settled his cheek against the redhead’s temple.

The Wastelands stretched out in the background. Dax beamed wide enough for his cheeks to ache. For a moment, Jak silently studied his goofy, exaggerated face on the screen. It wasn’t until Jak’s eyes crinkled with an amused smirk did Dax click the button.

Chapter Text

The old King was dead.

Fuckin’ impossible. Improbable. Absolutely incomprehensible. A million other fancy words Dax could bounce around inside his lil noggin.

There was somethin’ funny about the way he had never given the King a second thought outside of disdain, but now the encompassing need to learn more blanketed his mind. Like an itch on his back he couldn’t quite reach without help. Sig didn’t want to tell him. Jak didn’t want to tell him. Fine . Dax could be an insistent little bugger when he so desired. True to his brattish nature, when he wanted something, he was determined to get it, come hell or high water.

First stop in his plan of action was visiting the Archives. Anything and everything a person wanted to know was stored there.

Easily scanning his security pass at the door, Dax strolled into the facility like he owned the place.

A mousy girl straightened her posture from behind the receptionist desk. “Hello. What can I help you with today?”

Heart hammering a million beats per second, Daxter smirked and slammed his palms onto her desk, rattling everything atop the structure. “Howdy hi, sweetheart! Yeah, uh, I’m kinda lookin’ for some info on-” He gulped down the lump in his throat. “The war.”

Her lips twisted, put off by his behavior. “Could you be more specific?”

Stifling silence washed over them as Dax internally steeled himself to ask the golden question. His throat constricted. Fuck, just one measly sentence and he couldn’t spit it out-

“Are you… searching for recorded casualties? Major battles? Economic impacts?”

Hastily shaking his head, Dax raised his palms in the air. “No. No. I’m lookin’ for more deets on the guy who pulled the trigger. Uh. Y’know. The King...” Trailing off, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. 

Behind her glasses, she deliberately scanned him up and down. “May I see your ID, sir?” He obliged. It only took her half a second, tops, before she was effectively typing at her keyboard. 

His ears flagged at the loud ding! that resounded around them, and a blank card slid out from a slotted machine next to her desk. She bent down to pluck it out, and resumed clicking at her keyboard. “Now, the viewing is free, but if you’d like to take any media home with you on a USB, there will be a charge. Would you like to do that transaction now?”

“Um. Not necessary, I guess.”

She held the card out to him. “Very well. Insert this into one of the computers and it’ll give you all the information you’ve requested. You have one hour. Enjoy.”

“Thanks, toots.” He grabbed the card, ignoring the stink eye she bestowed him for the nickname. 

Waltzing deeper into the building, he stopped at one of the small computer screens attached to a thin but gigantic tower that reached the ceiling. The casing was see-through, allowing everyone to see the massive motherboard. There were multiple of these towering machines, though Daxter was the only person there today. 

Inspecting the card with a critical eye, he snapped it into the only empty slot available and waited. The screen blinked to life, and a tab opened with rows of accessible files. 

Daxter inhaled sharply at the very first option. Of course it would be. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and steeled himself. Too late to pussy out now. He could do it. Fingers quivering, he reached out and tapped on the video file.

He hadn’t seen the clip since he was a child. 

Praxis, staring directly into the camera. The King swiping into the shot, his hand aglow with pure white light. Praxis’s face was wiped off as easily as a bandaid, chunks of sticky gore sludging to the floor. 

Grimacing, Dax valiantly held down his breakfast. The back of his throat burned. They had really shown this to the entire city for a week straight?

Sliding the video bar, he slowed the film near the very beginning. The motion blur made it almost impossible to tell, but the King’s face was twisted into an enraged snarl. What could have possibly made a man angry enough to snap in such a way? Had murder been his intent? His forehead throbbed with aching frustration and helplessness. 

Dax narrowed his eyes at the frozen image of the King. There was something achingly familiar about him. He struggled to remember, to reach out and grasp it, but it was fleeting and gone within a moment.

Exiting the video clip, he searched for more answers. Such as anything on the King’s actual fuckin’ name. Any close family or companions. What the damn disagreement between he and Praxis was that would start a decade-long ongoing war.   

He was seized with a burn of aggravation. What did Praxis do? The question pierced his brain. Dax bit his lip. Shit. Krimzon Guards didn't think like that. What… What did Praxis do to deserve that cruelty? Better.

Literally nothing. 

Anything pre-war was nothing but hashed out positive propaganda from old articles. The King opens the trade market in the Wasteland, allowing open access to merchants! The King adds funding to the Pumping Station, now the Slums have drinkable water!

Daxter pulled out the card with a scoff of disgust. What a waste of time. Practically stomping his way back to the receptionist desk, he waved the card unceremoniously through the air. “This all you got?”

“Whether there is or not doesn’t matter. Your clearance level only allows for that.” She promptly waved her fingers. 

Dax rolled his eyes and grudgingly slapped the card into her waiting hand. Before he could turn to leave, another idea brightened in his head and he lingered near the edge of the desk, awkwardly catching her attention again. “Any newspapers in this dump?”

“Classified.”

Daxter sighed, defeated. “I'm startin’ to think everything is...” 

-/-

Bugs were chirping under the shrouded moonlight by the time he made it home. However, his detective cap was still firmly on. There was still one last resort he could visit in this investigation.

His siblings were comfortably splayed out on the living room floor, their guns scattered into pieces and carefully organized in neat lines. The small television against the wall was set to a hushed volume, allowing for both concentration and welcome distraction.

They never invited him into this pseudo-bonding session. He convinced himself it was simply because he didn't own a firearm and not an intentional snub.

Dax plopped onto the couch and took a casual swig of his beer. “So, um. You guys are old. Do you remember the King?”

Tess and Torn swapped looks that he couldn’t quite decipher. It was their privilege over him by being childhood friends. After a beat, Torn slid disgruntled eyes onto him. “Old?”

“I remember him. A bit.”

Ignoring Torn’s offense, Dax eagerly scooted to the edge of the couch, ears perking to attention. “Yeah?”

Tess smiled wanly, her tattoos catching the warm golden glow of the nearby lamp. “Not much to say. He was just like every bigwig politician, hiding in the Palace where it was safe.”

That wasn’t exactly helpful. Dax couldn’t help but scowl at her. “Does anyone know why he went completely nuts? There's gotta be an explanation for everything.”

“Why do you care all of a sudden?” Torn interrupted. His gray-blue eyes locked onto him with uncomfortable intensity. 

Tess spared Torn another uncertain glance. “Yeah, Daxxie... It’s not like you to talk politics.”

The King is dead.

Dax swallowed heavily, unable to control his fidgeting hands.

The King is dead and… no one cares.

The world had upended. The knowledge he had gained changed… nothing. The war continued on because it didn’t fucking matter. If he climbed to the Palace itself and screamed it from the rooftop, would anyone blink an eye?

It was maddening.

“Well. Do you think this war is… justified?” His eyes were glued to the floor as he asked, but they quickly snapped up at the gravelly crackling sound that took him several moments to realize was Torn laughing. Laughing openly in his face. Rage swelled his chest. Jutting his chin out, Dax glowered. “What the hell is so funny, prick?”

“You. That you would have the gall to ask such a ridiculous question.” Torn’s face twisted into a sneer. “You think there's any possibility the death of innocents is justified? Was losing our parents worth it?”

The anger melted away. Dax shot a wide-eyed look at Tess, but she refused to meet him. Even from across the room, he could see the seeded pain in his brother’s eyes. He swallowed heavily, abruptly feeling like a fool. I always had you guys, he thought with mortification. His parents were nothing but a distant memory that held no sentimental value. He had forgotten that it wasn’t the same for everyone else.

“No,” he rasped weakly. 

“I know you always said that stuff was boring, Daxxie,” Tess swiftly cut in to defuse the situation, “But you should really watch some debates and discussions on the topic.”

Dax glanced up at the TV, as if one would happen to be on, but of course it was only a gritty action flick. The earlier flame was extinguished now, leaving a dull ache of crumbling ash in his chest. “Alright…”

Torn sighed through his nose, expertly flowing back into his cool persona. “Listen. The Baron doesn’t want anyone thinkin’ that kinda shit. ‘Cause everyone would start pointing fingers at him instead of the enemy. It’s best if the channeler’s just remain nefarious super beings and nothing more.”

“And the King?” Dax slumped backwards, dully examining the cracks in the ceiling. “It don’t matter if he was here right now or six feet under?”

“He was just an easy scapegoat. I mean, really, who cares if Praxis pissed him off? I could attack the aggressor down the street, doesn’t mean it’d start a war.”

What did Praxis do to piss him off? The earlier thought burned the forefront of his brain again. It doesn’t matter, came a voice that didn’t belong to him.

After a minute, Torn sighed. “I do remember… he had a son.”

Dax’s mouth dropped open. He sat up straight, giving Torn his full attention. “Wait, what?” 

Tess’s ears perked up. “A prince?”

Torn nodded, a grim expression twisted on his face. “The King rarely left the Palace, but a few years before the war, he was holding a rally of some sort. Halfway through, this little boy runs across the stage with his hands out like he wanted to be held. One of the Palace guards picked him up and carried him back inside.”

A little skeptical, Dax crossed his arms. “And what makes him the dude’s son?”

“You think toddlers are gonna run to anyone else like that? Highly doubt the King had time for babysitting. It lines up with the Queen’s death as well. Probably passed away in labor.” The light of the lamp flashed across his eyes as he shifted his body weight forward, suddenly addressing them with a smoldering stare. “Neither of you are to talk about this outside of this house. Not a breath. Understand?”

Both of them nodded - Tess with a stony grunt, Dax with a wary gulp.

Torn accepted their cooperation with a jerk of his chin. “My theory is… Praxis wants him found. You remember right after the war began, the new KG were hounding down kids?”

The memory electrocuted Dax, hitting him with a force so hard it blinded him. Of course. He had forgotten! The final push to reunite Jak safely with his family. The KG had been fuckin’ relentless for months afterwards, snatching up kids by the handful. His mouth was dry. “They were lookin’ for the prince…?”

“I think so.”

“What would it matter?” Tess asked through gritted teeth. “They would never put him on the throne.”

“They would,” Torn insisted. “The King was dethroned. The prince was not. Whether anyone likes it or not, he is the rightful heir.”

Thoughts racing a million miles, Dax released a shaky breath. “Wow.” He wasn’t exactly sure what to make of all that. “Well… that was years ago. Prince Charming has gotta be dead. They caught the little guy, didn’t they?”

“I’m not so sure.” Torn’s intensity melted away. He studied the gun pieces around him pensively. “It would explain why Praxis is on constant edge. It’s like he’s just waiting to be usurped.”

Tess pursed her lips and returned to her handiwork. “You think the kid got smuggled into the Wasteland?”

“More than likely...”

Dax picked up his forgotten beer bottle with a sigh, done with his investigation for now and ready to return to normal, mundane life. What a fucking trip. “Whoever did that musta got paid handsomely, huh?”

-/-

Sig was giving them a virtual tour of the Fortress in class. 

It was the largest facility in Haven, and would be the most important to them as Guards, aside from the Academy. A place for briefings and secret operations. Not to mention the hair-raising amount of WMD. The prison was underground, deep into the bowels of the planet. Daxter had never been there, but with how massive it appeared on camera, it seemed like there was a cell available for every person living in the city.

Tactfully, he slid a folded piece of paper towards Keira. On it was a not-so flattering doodle of her with an exaggerated forehead. After a minute, it was returned. Red flushed his cheeks at the drawing of his elongated teeth. Alright, good game.

“There are currently no security cameras at street level. The Baron is testing his latest operation…”

That stole his attention. Last year, there were definitely cameras surrounding the place.The footage moved to the image of a hulking tank, easily able to crush five men underneath its spike-plated wheels.

Dax flinched away from the image alone, shuddering at the notion of being near that monstrosity.

“This bad boy will pummel anyone who trespasses the territory without a security pass. It's hooked up with a motion-sensing laser. It’s already taken care of a few unsuspecting intruders. He hopes to get these tanks everywhere eventually to save from hiring Guards to monitor footage 24/7.”

Of-fucking-course he would.

“It's necessary for now. We are currently assembling a substantial amount of ammo on one of the higher floors.”

“Oooo!” someone in the back crooned obnoxiously. 

Daxter blinked.

An ammo dump in the Fortress. And he had access to it! His heart flared with reckless desire.

At lunch break, he pulled out his communicator, the sound of Keira’s voice droning out in the background. //i have a surprise for u! Free tonite?//

He nearly exploded with impatience waiting for Jak to reply.

//I will be later.//

In the meantime, he was probably sabotaging an innocent’s business. Maybe destroying precious cargo full of resources. Maybe killing a squadron of Guards. The thought still made his guts squirm uneasily. But. The Dark Warrior was Jak. The Dark Warrior was his dearest friend. And… and Daxter could turn a blind eye to what his buddy got up to in his spare time. Yeah.

//shall i meet u at ur place?//

//No. I can pick you up. 8 sound good?//

A wicked smile curled his lips up. //perfect! c ya then. make sure to wear a hood//

//You already taught me that. Should I be worried?//

Dax quirked a brow at the first sentence. What the hell? //hardy.har. trust me dude ur gonna love it//

This was fuckin’ it! His big break! The excitement rushed through his veins like adrenaline. He’d finally prove himself to Jak. Prove that he could be trusted! Prove that he was useful, that he was worth keeping around.

Nightfall couldn’t come soon enough!

So caught up in his fantasies, he didn’t even notice Keira, still sitting beside him, shamelessly examining his phone.

-/-

“Here we are!” Daxter exclaimed joyously as they rounded the corner, leaving the parked zoomer behind. They were both bundled in oversized hoodies, warding out the chill of the night air.

“ This is what you wanted to show me?” Jak asked skeptically, shifting his hip to the side. “The prison?”

“Actually, it's called the Fortress. The prison is part of it, but it's down below.”

Jak shot a prudent look at the ground, as if a chasm would suddenly break open and swallow him whole.

Dax snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Hey! Don’t be gettin’ any ideas now, buddy. Stay with me.”

“Right. Just making sure you weren’t turning me in.”

The words were too saturated in sarcasm to sting. Playing along, Dax lolled his head to the side. “Ya got me, Blondie. I was playin’ ya for a sucker all along. Hopefully the reward is worth all the trouble.”

Lunging, Jak tried to shove him, but Dax danced out of his reach, laughing.

“Okay, so what are we really here for?” Glancing around, Jak’s light tone indicated he assumed they were only here for something as innocuous as tagging the walls.

“Listen up, partner in crime! There is a buttload of ammo in here. We’re talking missiles, grenades, bullets, the whole shop! And we…” Dax snapped up his hood with an impish smirk, “are gonna serve some barbeque!”

Jak’s eyes flashed. He turned his attention to the building - he hadn’t known about it at all, of course he hadn’t. Dax watched in morbid fascination as green brows lowered and a forbidding smirk curled up his lips. “Alright,” his voice was a raspy growl, “let’s do it.” Lifting his hand in the air, purple lightning crackled off his blackening fingertips.

Dax gently but insistently placed his hand into the crook of Jak’s elbow and pushed it down. “No need for that. S’what yer hood is for.”

“No offense, Dax, but no one suspects me like this and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Well, yer in luck. There's no security cameras where we’re goin’. There is a tank, bat-shit terrifyin' if you ask me, but as long as I have my pass on me, it won’t wake up. The hoods will hide our identities anyway! And they’ll be so busy admirin’ the fireworks, we can easily make our getaway!”

His pal still looked doubtful, so Dax chilled with the theatrics for a moment. “If shit goes south, you can always hulk out. I just… wanna have some fun with you, without the need for Darkie.” Like they really were just teenage boys pulling a prank on the neighbors, TPing a house. 

Jak finally cracked a smile, the endearing kind that wrinkled his nose. “Okay, fine. I’ll trust you with this one. We slip in and out with no one recognizing us. If we’re caught, we go invisible.”

“Heck yeah!” Dax held up his palm for a high-five, which was promptly given.

“Now.” Jak slid up his hood, shielding his devilish glowing eyes. “Let’s go have some fun.”

-/-

True to Sig’s word, the tank never sprung awake upon their arrival, magnetically sensing the pass in Dax’s pocket. The duo invaded the facility easily, taking the trek to the upper levels, where the ammo dump awaited them like a sitting duck.

“Candy from a baby!” Daxter hissed mischievously as they entered the unoccupied room without any problems.

Jak didn’t respond. With widening eyes, he stumbled closer to a missile that was easily twice his size. “Look at this…” 

Dax winced at the horrified awe in his voice. “Uh, buddy?” 

“What were they planning to do with all of this?” Jak’s voice cracked. Broad shoulders tensed up. His clenched fists slowly began to tremble. “Bomb my village? Is that it?”

Ice crept up his spine, chilling the back of his neck. Shuddering, Dax wrapped his arms around himself. He was overwhelmed with the desire to reach out, soothe his friend, do something, but he couldn’t. 

No, they wouldn’t do that. The answer came unbidden in his brain, sounding suspiciously like Torn. Praxis needs the war to remain in power. He wouldn’t ambush the village. Destroying the Channelers would be the easiest solution but he couldn’t afford the risk. 

It should’ve been reassuring, but… his stomach bottomed out. If they weren’t going to bomb the village, then what were all these missiles for? 

Suddenly petrified, he rushed to Jak’s side. Craving to both receive and give comfort, he wrapped his arms around Jak’s brawny one. “This place is givin’ me the willies! Let’s get this over with!”

Jak’s glossy eyes met his. Daxter tried to keep the panic out of his gaze - tried his damnedest to be strong for both of them. Untangling one arm, he rubbed steady circles into his stiff back. He licked his dry lips, and chose his next words carefully. “They can’t hurt anyone with this, Jak. ‘Cause we’re gonna destroy it. C’mon.”

Several sickening moments pass before the light returned to Jak’s eyes. Alight with determination and fury, he nodded and tightly gripped Dax’s hand in his. “Right. You’re right.”

Daxter clenched his teeth, fighting off the pulsing nausea. He rapidly looked around. “Any ideas on how we’re gonna make this flambé? I didn’t think this far ahead, and I can’t exactly pull a boomstick outta my ass.”

They were moving before he could finish the sentence. Easily tugging him along, Jak made a dash for the far wall - and the singular door. It automatically slid open with their approach. The night air unexpectedly washed over them in a frigid wave, chaotically whirling their hair and almost blowing off their hoods completely. 

Carefully, they toed the edge and scrutinized the city below. Undeniably three stories high, a jump down would kill them, but there was an overhang directly below, and a ladder connected to the wall. Stepping back inside, they swapped a calculating look.

“We throw a grenade and rush down the ladder, then we can jump the rest of the way.”

Jak firmly shook his head. “There’s something I want to do. You climb down the ladder first and I’ll follow you.”

Daxter’s face twisted unpleasantly. “Hell no!” He tightened their handhold before the other could disagree. “I ain’t lettin’ you be a martyr! We do this together.”

“Only one can climb down at a time,” Jak asserted impatiently. “My body will heal, remember? You first.”

Daxter pouted, then released it with a sigh, his shoulders slumping forward in defeat. “Fine. But I ain’t leavin’ until I watch you.”

Jak narrowed his eyes, for a moment it seemed he would argue again, but he nodded his approval. “Okay. Ready?”

Backing up until his heels were brushing the edge, his body coiled up, pumped with sudden adrenaline. Just hook yer foot down into the metal bar and move like hell, he chanted in his head on repeat. This was the moment they had been waiting for. No margin for error now. His nerves trembled and he gave a quick shake off, face hardening with resolution. “Ready!”

He wasn’t sure what to expect, but his mouth opened as Jak held up his hand and a ball of eco formed out of thin air. It rapidly grew bigger with snapping lightning. Blinding purple glowed inside the middle, while the swirling edges were pure black.

“This is for my father!” Jak growled before he threw the pure energy at the cluster of missiles. 

In hindsight, they really should’ve prepared for this entire thing in advance. If they were wiser, they would’ve sat down beforehand and discussed a plan to the finest detail. Their only excuses being they were a duo of careless teenagers who were hungry for glory and fun. 

The explosion was immediate as soon the dark eco bomb made contact with the ammo. It rippled through the air in a devastating flood. The shock wave knocked Jak clean off his feet, sending him crashing into Daxter, and the both of them right through the door.

I’m dead, was all Daxter could think as he fell through the air. I don’t wanna die.

Time didn’t slow down. But, in the blink of an eye, everything was different. Steel bands wrapped tightly around him. Gravity was pulling his body up. Jak, who had been above him, was now below. They landed on the damned ledge, the force of the impact rattling through his teeth. Jak had taken the brunt of it upon his upper back. They rolled from the momentum, right off the edge to the street below. 

The wind whipped through his ears, but all Daxter could do was bury his face into his safe spot and clench his eyes shut.

Jak, once again, hit the pavement first, Daxter held securely to his chest. 

It was over. The fire roared above them. Bits of smoking rubble whipped by them, hitting the ground like hail. 

Daxter’s eyes snapped open. With trembling arms, he pushed himself up. “Jak! Are you okay?!”

No. Jak’s face contorted with agony, the sensitive skin red and wet. “Healing,” he gritted out. 

His vision went blurry, and it took a moment to realize he was crying. He bit down on his wobbling lip. Before he could say anything else, the alarms blared. He frightfully looked around but they were alone. Still, he could hear distant dismayed shouts too close nearby. 

“Heal faster!” he cried, and grabbed Jak’s hands. “We gotta go now!”

Snarling out a barrage of colorful curses, Jak eventually stood up with Dax’s help. Afraid to touch his back, the redhead clasped one arm around his hip and took some of his weight off his feet. 

The eco was surely a miracle maker because by the time they reached the zoomer, Jak’s skin had peeled over, and he was no longer limping. 

Daxter already had his arms wrapped around his waist by the time the zoomer jumped to life.

The sirens were wailing loudly. The red lights flashed against his skin, bathing him a hellish glow. Watching the flames dance, filling the sky with a billow of smoke - he felt like a hero.

Daxter laughed hysterically as they flew away, feeling free for the first time in his life.

-/-

Jak didn’t drive him home. This caught him unawares. He could only assume they were going to have another sleepover. 

Instead, they drove over the Bazaar, right past the food stands, and into the Gardens. Daxter finally lifted his head with a frown. “What the heck are you doin’?”

No answer. Dax rolled his eyes.

They slowed near the entrance-way to the forest. Jak leapt off the parked zoomer, and held his hand out. Dax took the offered hand and hopped down. 

However, Jak didn’t let go, immediately making his tummy twist. Silently, Jak led the way up the ramp to the imposing door. 

“Okay, seriously, what are we doin’?”

“I want to show you something. You’ll like it.”

Daxter harrumphed. “Fine. But can we make it quick? I need a shower, and I’m tired.” The whine in his tone took away from any real bite.

The door recognized his pass and let them through. There were no lights in the forest, and he squinted his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Jak seemed confident in where he was going though, so Dax let him lead the way, still holding his hand.

Dax had never really been out here much, when he had no reason to. It was a shame, the forest truly was peaceful luxury, untouched by metal. He would never understand why Praxis cut it off. 

Careful of their steps, they paused in a grand meadow near the lake’s edge.

He dubiously searched around. “Now what?”

Jak let go of his hand to bend down and grab a small rock. He chucked it far away, where it crashed into the long grass. For a moment - nothing. Then, Dax grinned with delight. A storm of fireflies raised up from their hiding, filling the air with golden shimmers. 

Jak smiled over his shoulder. They walked through the meadow, a cloud of fireflies bursting forth with every step they took, illuminating the path. Surrounded like this by the glimmering lights was special. Dax couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off his face. Chuckling, he gently poked the little things as they flew by. 

He glanced over at Jak and lost his breath. With a gentle expression on his healed face, he was holding a few of them delicately. They highlighted a bright golden glow in his eyes. Behind his head, a group of glittering lights perfectly shaped a crown.

Daxter frantically shook his head and looked away. When he felt a yawn building up, he played into it and stretched. “This is great, Jak, but I can’t keep my eyes open any longer, and my nose is numb.” He exaggerated bundling into his hoodie with a shudder.

“Sure. Just one more thing. C’mere.”

He swallowed a complaint and obediently followed after his friend. They ambled through the deep grass until it thinned out again. Dax watched curiously as Jak leisurely lowered to the ground and laid on his back, using his thick hood as a pillow.

“Uh, oh, okay.” Copying him, Dax laid down a couple inches away, wiggling to get comfortable. They were close enough to knock elbows. The cold instantly seeped through his pants and up his back. He shivered, pulling his hoodie closer. With an annoyed grunt, he glared up at the sky.

The light pollution and combined smog blocked out the stars, as per typical with Haven. It sucked that it had to affect the lush forest as well. 

“Since we can’t go to the Wasteland,” Jak breathed, “this is the next best thing.”

He didn’t understand at first. But the fireflies twinkled above them, bright little lights against the black sky. Oh. Keeping his promise of showing him the stars…

His puny heart fluttered. Unfiltered happiness flooded his chest, so warm and sweet, he felt like he would melt. 

Daxter smiled softly, relaxing. “Yeah, yer right. It’s beautiful…”

Time passed. For several minutes, they were content in each other’s company, gazing up at the sky. Part of him never wanted to leave.

The warmth radiating off of his friend was addicting. Dax subtly shifted closer, nuzzling his head to Jak’s shoulder, and closing his eyes. He breathed deeply.

“Don’t tell me you're falling asleep already,” Jak teased in a whisper.

Daxter thought about pinching him in retaliation but his arm was rubber. Instead, he weakly shrugged. “Too comfy. Just gimme fifteen minutes.”

Against the darkness of his eyelids, he inhaled the scents surrounding him. The earthy sweet grass. The sharp thunderstorm of Jak. His mind sloped into the hazy, delirious gap before sleep. Huh. Dew covered grass in the gray, foggy morning.  

Right before he slipped off the brink, he heard Jak murmur “Okay...”

He curled closer.

-/-

It was the middle of the night. 

Dax stared up at the ceiling of his room, gently fidgeting with his eco crystal. Not tired enough to sleep and not restless enough to go out, he was content enough to slide his headphones on and listen to music. 

Testing something new, he searched for a playlist of love songs. Dax had tried to tolerate them for years, but the sappy, vulnerable shit always made him cringe. Joke’s on me. He still didn’t know if he was fond of them, but the melodies were opening him up to novel intuitions he’d never considered before. They were kinda nice, actually…but he’d sooner bite his own tongue off before admitting it out loud.

His foot rocked back and forth.

Blue eyes closed. Immediately, memories of a certain blonde took over, and Dax didn’t fight against it. 

An old memory flooded his vision first.

Daxter slid off the zoomer as Jak parked in front of his house, unwinding his arms from Jak’s waist. Only making it a few steps, he couldn’t help but turn around with a coy smile. “Thanks for takin’ me out, and lettin’ me share yer superpowers. Even though I almost puked on yer shoes.”

Jak snickered, blue eyes catching the glow of the nearest streetlamp. “Thanks for playing hooky with me.”

Dax’s smile widened, his eyes dipping to the sidewalk momentarily. When he looked up again, Jak’s eyes were hooded. A loud crash from down the street broke the warmth. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah... it was fun. Night, big guy.”

Like a slippery slope, the memories continued on.

He saw a little boy with green hair and doe eyes, even though the vision was fuzzy, like static. He saw a monster, bleeding out- and he was filled with the primal urge to bite into his own skin to counter the mental pain that inflicted. I don’t wanna see that, I don’t even wanna think about it. 

Only belatedly realizing his face was pinched, and the crystal was biting into his skin, he forced himself to relax and go pliant again. He skipped a few songs until he was content again. 

We keep behind closed doors…

Every time I see you, I die a little more…

Tess would be weeping over this bullshit. A soft laugh caught in his throat.

Did Jak know his eyes crinkled when he smiled? Was he aware of the stray curl of green above his ear?

You and I both have to hide

On the outside where I can't be yours and you can't be mine

But I know this

We got a love that is homeless

A memory surged from the darkness again: Jak releasing him from a comfortable, protective hold, smirking at him like saving his life from his own supposed allies was no big deal. So cocky. Warmth curled in his belly. That was apparently his favorite memory to fall upon. Maybe because it had been such an eye opener. Whenever Jak held him like that, everything felt right in the world.

Snapping a hood up, hiding away. Calling him by his name before casually vanishing- 

Wait a minute. What? No…he hadn’t, right?

Concentrating, Dax raked the memory deeper, playing the scene on repeat in his mind.

‘I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, Daxter.’ he had said. 

His eyes widened.

That fucker had called him by his name.

Why can't we be like that

Wish we could be like that

“What's up, Dax?” Jak’s sleep-muddled voice muffled through the speaker.

“You think yer so clever,” Daxter hissed. His hand shook, clenched around the communicator. “Really played me for a fool, huh?”

“What?” This time his words were clearer and sharp with confusion. 

“I hadn’t recognized you,” he mocked Jak's voice. “That's what you said in the Bazaar!”

Jak didn’t respond, perhaps waiting for him to get to the point. Perhaps too confused to realize the gig was up.

“You knew it was me on the Wall,” Daxter accused with a snarl. His breath hitched on rage and turmoil. “You lied to me!”

The deafening, stunned silence was answer enough, confirming his suspicion. Dax sagged forward. The back of his throat burned. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” The question was meant to be released in a roar, but instead came out as a pathetic croak.

“Dax…” A beat of stillness. He could practically hear the mental gears winding on the other end. “I didn’t lie to you.”

“Shut the fuck up-”

“I didn’t…!” Jak’s voice rose with desperation. “I said, fuck, I said I probably wouldn’t have recognized you.”

Dax cackled maniacally. “What kind of bullshit is that? Stop fuckin’ with me!”

The sound of their heavy breaths filled the absence of words. 

Dax knew he was so close to connecting the dots, that he played a larger part of this picture, but he had been so blinded by eager affection and the deep rooted want to be special that he’d ignored all the signs. Realizations were brightening in his head like flashes - stunning him to the point he no longer cared what Jak had to say. Now he only cared about hurting.

“You knew it was me,” Daxter whispered, eyes widening. “You knew that whole time and you just… passed me by. You didn’t-” Tears blurred his vision and the lump in his throat prevented him from finishing the thought. He dug the heel of his palm into his eye. “Fuck. Did you even care? ”

“Dax,” There was a rustle through the speaker. “It’s not-” The pleading urgency in his tone was terrifying and unorthodox. “I can explain everything. No more secrets, I promise, just let me pick you up-”

“Probably not a good idea. I’m done.” On the cusp of a breakdown, Dax knew he’d never return from the shame of crumbling in front of Jak. The conversation had to end now . “I’m done, do you hear me, Jak? I’m done with the secrets and the lies and the…the pathetic desperation. I am done with - this. ” His lips trembled and he inhaled shakily before he could force out the next sentence, “I can't see you anymore.”

“Daxter-”

He pulled the communicator away from his ear, unable to listen to the rest. His finger hit the end button as the understanding of what he’d done immediately punched him in the gut.

Collapsing back, he curled on his side into the smallest ball he could manage. Choking on gasping sobs, he released all the misery and humiliation as hot tears into his pillow.

The room was dark, and quiet, and he was alone .

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Daxter considered destroying every reminder that remained of Jak in his life. His finger hovered over the delete button of the picture he had taken of them on top of the Wall, before ultimately bailing out. 

Standing on the edge of the port, he had tried to toss the light eco crystal into the churning waters, but his arm fell limp at his side.

He remembered the two of them returned to this exact spot to practice skipping stones across the water’s surface. With every turn, Jak improved his already arguably perfect throw. The rock danced across the water, disappearing from view. Dax could never make the damn thing hop more than a few skips. He even tried mimicking his friend; the way he flicked his wrist, the way he held the rock, but it didn’t get him anywhere. Inevitably, he was consumed with envy and inadequacy. He glanced up - only to see Jak looking back with a smug smile and hooded eyes. That alone should have deepened the bitterness, but instead Dax laughed. The jackass wouldn’t have even known what the game was without him! He had playfully shoved Jak, and a game of chase commenced along the port. 

I hate you, Dax thought.

-/-

When her day off finally rolled around, Tess settled down snug on the couch, painting her nails. Wordlessly, Dax dragged his feet into the living room and collapsed next to her. “Let me.”

Surprised light blue eyes blinked at him. “Oh.” She paused, eyes flickering between her pink nails and his determined face. “You sure?”

Not deigning to verbally respond, he held out his palms and impatiently wiggled his fingers. 

Tess shrugged and handed over the nail polish. “What’s gotten into you, sweetheart?”

“Nothin’.” Grunting, he held her fingers delicately on his hand, and meticulously painted a pink stripe on her nail. 

“Mhm. I’ve noticed you’ve been hanging around here a lot more. Not that I’m complaining. May I ask why you haven’t been going out with your… friend?”

He winced, and accidentally dragged the brush against her skin, leaving behind a color splotch. “Goddammit. Tess. Let me work.”

“Something happened.”

Dax raised his chin to glare at her. “ Nothin’ happened.”

“You are just oozing sadness, babe.” She rolled her eyes, then smiled. “C’mon. Talk to me.”

Responding with a noncommittal grunt, he ignored her to focus on his task. Each nail was painted with careful accuracy, until his vision was filled with the bright aggravating neon pink. Finally, after minutes of bearing silence, he finished painting the pinky. She plucked the bottle from his hand, placing it on the floor, before blowing and shaking her nails, graciously giving him a moment to collect his thoughts. 

Eventually, she raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m sure you really enjoyed wasting your time with that. Now that you’ve run out of excuses… ready to talk?”

With a deep sigh, Dax flopped unceremoniously against the couch. It was gonna suck admitting what happened, but keeping quiet about the ordeal only left raging bumblebees in his stomach. Dax swallowed thickly. He thought of his communicator, the last message from Jak still unopened.

//Let me explain. Please.//

“Yeah, uh. Jak ‘n I split.”

“Jak? Oh.” Her eyes widened and she swiftly dropped all sarcasm. A warm hand landed on his narrow shoulder. Conscious of the paint, she gingerly rubbed small circles into his skin. The weight of it - the warmth of it - made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t describe. “I’m sorry, baby. What happened?”

He hated himself for being such a gullible, trusting, starry-eyed idiot.

“He was a liar. And I dumped his ass.” The words fell easily off his tongue without hardship. He didn’t have to mention anything else besides the fuckin’ downfall. He couldn’t tell her the details. Couldn’t tell anyone. Nobody would understand.

Fortunately, she didn’t ask for the details, she didn’t demand to know how deep this ran. Instead, she continued to rub his back. “Did you love him?”

Daxter gagged on his saliva, wheezing harshly in shock. “What?!”

“You heard me.” He squirmed under her perceptive stare. “You’re sitting here, looking like your whole world just fell apart. I know we teased you about it, but, were you honestly a thing?”

“No.” The word was spoken bitterly, but rung true. “No,” he repeated fervently. “I cared about him. He was my… best friend.”

Tess raised her eyebrows and remained silent.

A pain bit inside of his chest, like thorns clawing at his heart. He desperately fought against it, twisting his fingers into the couch cushion. But, the clench released, and he let it all out in one agonizing whoosh. “I had… hoped. I thought maybe someday-” His voice briefly cut out into a mirthless chuckle. “I don’t exactly have an abundance of friends, y'know, and he was my first... I thought we were close. But, I had to step back and realize we were just two lonely sunuvabitches desperately trying to fill a void.”

“Everyone is lonely.”

“I thought he was gonna be my person -”

“Honey, it’s not that easy. Torn and Ashelin are thirty and they still don’t have their shit figured out.”

Dax giggled and tried to cough it off.

“I had my heart broken once, y’know. Dated a dreamboat and thought we were soulmates. Boy, that crashed and burned.”

He frowned, combing his memory for such a thing. “Really? I don’t remember you datin’ anyone, or comin’ home cryin’.”

“That’s because I’m good at hiding things, babe.” With a teasing giggle, she pinched his cheek. He swatted her away with an indignant growl.  “Also, you were down in the basement while I stuffed my face with chocolate and wine until I threw up.”

That caused him to look away in guilt. He had been drinking more than necessary lately, and puking in more bathroom stalls than he was comfortable counting, but it did nothing to numb the pain. 

“I… don’t even know what I want, Tess. I want him back, but the thought of seeing his face just makes me so fuckin’ angry.” Shame and cold despair clawed up his neck. “I wanna go back to how we used to be, but knowin’ what I know now? No fuckin’ way. He was just usin’ me-” Tears blurred his vision and he quickly ducked his chin away, praying that Tess didn’t see. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I miss him. I don’t know what to do...”

Delicately, she grabbed his head and pulled him towards her shoulder. He closed his eyes against her sweet strawberry-scented perfume. A kiss was pressed against his red hair. “Hey. You don’t deserve what he did to you. But, listen-” She sighed and momentarily struggled with her words. “I’m not saying you should run back to him because you’re lonely, but sometimes people hurt each other unintentionally. People fuck up, and unless what he did was unforgivable, there’s always second chances. In the meantime.” She brushed his bangs from his forehead.  “You can only ride this out. I know it sucks, but time will help. Don’t ignore the hurt or avoid it because you’re only going to prolong the healing.” 

Her voice was a calming blanket in the darkness of his closed eyelids. Her advice was a balm against the gaping wound in his heart. She couldn’t fix it, and he had known that, but… he felt a lot better. More than he had in days. Talking about it, receiving sympathy - it was a feeble bandaid applied to a bleeding gash, but it helped. Dax grinned. “Thanks, Dr. Tessy-kins. When should I expect the bill?”

With a peal of laughter, she pushed him off. “You can just say I’m the best and be done with it.”

“You are the best, sugar. That’s why I always dump my problems on you.”

She blew on her drying nails again, but her dimples remained prominent with her smile. “If it makes you feel any better, Torn and Ashelin apparently got into a spiff the other day.”

Dax blinked, but couldn’t deny the surge of excited curiosity. “Yeah? What happened?”

She leaned back against the couch. “She called him out for something, and he got all stiff and distant. You know how he gets when he’s pissed but trying not to show it.”

Daxter smirked a little. “Like he’s got a whole stick collection shoved up his ass?”

Tess rolled her eyes. “Something like that, yeah.” Then her expression turned thoughtful. “Torn didn’t tell me what it was about, you know him, but… whatever it was, it really shook Ashe. I tried to talk to her about it. I think that explosion at the Fortress has something to do with it. She mentioned spending more time at the Palace because of it.”

The words fell silent in the sudden roaring numbness in his ears. 

Palace. Ashelin.

Ashelin grew up in the Palace. Of fucking course she did. She was the Princess! Something in Daxter’s brain clicked.

His stomach dropped.

Holy shit.

How had he not realized it before? Ashelin!

“Where’s Torn?”

Tess fumbled over her sentence, a brief flash of irritation at being casually interrupted. “What?”

“Where’s our brother?” Dax shot up from the couch. “I need to talk to him! Right now!”

“Probably glued to his office chair like always…”

“Good idea.” Dax hastily bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks, babe! See ya!” At the door, he haphazardly slid on his boots, not bothering to clasp the buckles before he stumbled out the door. A new puzzle piece had emerged!

-/-

Daxter jogged through the Academy halls, his boots slapping against the cold floor. He didn’t care about the questioning looks from the few remaining Guards or recruits lingering about. He was on a mission.

Torn’s office door was shut. Resisting the urge to barge in, Dax politely took the time to knock first. 

“Come in.”

He took a deep breath and stepped inside. 

Torn, who had been hunched over a stack of reports, glanced up. He let out a slow sigh, something dark falling over his features. “And what fresh hell have you brought me today?”

Dax ignored the jab, immediately pacing the room like a caged animal. “Ashelin grew up in the Palace.”

Torn blinked at him, unconcerned. “Astute observation.”

“No, no, no! Listen!” Dax threw up his hands, grasping at the frayed edges of his own thoughts. “She grew up in the Palace ! With the King ! With-” His breath hitched, the weight of the realization finally settling deep into his bones. “With the Prince!”

Torn’s fingers twitched slightly against his desk.

Dax pounced on the tiny reaction. “You knew.”

The room was thick with something unspoken. Torn finally met his eyes, and Daxter’s stomach twisted at the expression on his face. It was the look of a man who was already three steps ahead in a conversation that hadn’t truly begun. A silent battle raged beneath his stoic face. Torn exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Daxter… I need you to let this go.”

“Like hell I will!” Dax yelled. He slammed his hands onto Torn’s desk, leaning in. “You are the one who brought it up!”

“You brought it up,” Torn snapped, causing the redhead to flinch away. “I told you not to speak of it outside the house. Are you brain-dead? Trying to have that conversation here of all places?”

Daxter felt frustration coil in his gut. “Fine. I won’t bother you about it anymore. Just… get me a meeting with Ashelin.”

“No.”

Dax blinked. “What? Why the hell not? I’ve been runnin' around like a dumbass chasing answers that she probably already has! I need to talk to her!”

“You need to learn to keep your mouth shut. Precursors-” Torn dragged a hand down his face. “I never should’ve told you about the Prince.”

“What the fuck does that mean? Yer just fine tellin' Tess!”

“Because Tess knows to keep her head down. You are risking your own life, and for what?”

Daxter threw his arms out, tilting his head towards the ceiling. “Uh! Discovering the truth about the past! Maybe, oh, I don’t know, finding where the Prince frolicked off to so he can help end this war!”

“Lower your voice. Now.”

It wasn’t a snarl or a roar - it was a chilling whisper that had Daxter snapping his mouth shut hard enough to rattle his teeth. 

Torn’s eyes were ice cold as they drilled into his head. It was a rarity, but Daxter found himself backing down, his stomach churning. His older brother wasn’t just annoyed, he was furious.

“If you think begging Ashelin for answers is going to solve all your problems, you are going to be sorely disappointed. There are things even she doesn’t speak to me about.”

“...There are things yer not speakin’ to me about,” Dax retorted immediately, shifting the conversation onto the current problem at hand. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t trust me.”

It was painful to say the words out loud, but there it was. Torn knew things and he was refusing to tell Daxter. Why?

Silently, Torn studied him, long enough to make him squirm. Eventually, he sighed and reached below his desk. “You’re right. I don’t trust you. Not with something this big. Now it’s your turn to be honest.”

Dax frowned, waiting, wondering what the hell Torn could possibly be digging for.

A crumpled, burnt piece of fabric was placed on the desk.

He froze.

It was his hoodie, or what used to be his hoodie. 

His stomach bottomed out.

The singed ends curled slightly, the acrid smell of burnt eco faint but present.

Dax stared in horror. He thought he had gotten rid of everything from that night. He had buried it to the very bottom of the trash, making sure it could never be found. Apparently, he had been wrong.

Torn crossed his arms. “You wanna tell me what the hell this was doing in our garbage?”

Dax’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“I know you’re smart enough not to burn your own clothes inside the house,” Torn continued, voice eerily calm. “So that means whatever happened, it wasn’t at home.”

“I mean... it’s just that… there was an accident.”

Torn’s lip curled. “An accident? Looks more like arson to me. And wouldn’t you know it, we just had a massive explosion at the Fortress. Really suspicious , don’t you think?”

The redhead felt lightheaded. He stumbled away until his hip knocked into the chair. “You got a part time job as a dumpster diver or somethin’?” His voice wavered. “Raccoon genes maybe?”

“Daxter.” Torn’s voice was steel. The final blow. “Tell me you weren’t there.”

His breath came fast and shallow. His thoughts scrambled for an excuse, for a way out-

But he had nothing. Even his quick wit couldn’t help him this time.

Torn leaned forward, both hands on his desk. “Tell me right now,” he ground out, “that you weren’t involved.”

Daxter felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff. Torn knew . Maybe he didn’t have all the pieces, maybe he didn’t have proof , but he knew . And Dax was out of places to run. He clenched his fists. His voice came out weak, but unwavering. “…I can’t.”

Torn inhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes dark and unreadable.

Dax’s hands trembled. “I can’t tell you that, Torn.”

The silence was suffocating.

Lowering his eyes to the tiled floor, he didn’t have the inner strength to raise them again and possibly see the anger or betrayal or disappointment.

“Do you understand what you’re saying right now?” Torn’s voice was quieter than ever, but it was sharp as a blade. “The Fortress is on high alert. The Baron's pissed . Erol’s been sniffing around, trying to pin this on someone.”

Daxter swallowed hard. “So? Our hoodies covered our faces-”

“ You think that matters?! ” Torn hissed, slamming a palm against his desk. “They don’t need proof. They just need- wait. Ours?”

Cringing, Dax realized his mistake and immediately wanted to shove his foot directly into his mouth. Fuck. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very aware of how small the room felt. 

“Don’t tell me you teamed up with your new boyfriend to-”

“Boyfriend!” Dax yelled with burning outrage, and snapped up his head.  When their eyes met, Dax’s throat closed up. In all their years together, he had never seen that expression on his brother's face.

“Ever since the Dark Warrior incident, you’ve been different. Out of the house, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, and now this-” Torn gestured to the burnt fabric. “Destroying one of our ammo supplies? I don’t know if you had a taste of glory and you’re just chasing for more, but whatever you’re doing-” Torn cut himself off with a sharp exhale. “You’re not just risking your life, but ours. And if you keep going down this path…”

Blue eyes met his own. A violent shiver sparked down his back, stealing the breath from his lungs.

“I can’t protect you. No. I won’t.”

Something inside him broke. Not quite his heart. The image of a teenage boy who had taken in a street rat baby - even though it ultimately made his own survival tougher, even though there was no real incentive - shattered. 

Briefly, the redhead imagined himself destroying Torn’s office. Throwing the chair across the room, shoving the papers to scatter across the floor. The fire pulsed through his veins, and then it extinguished, as if it had never existed in the first place.

Unable to say anything, Daxter jerked his chin in a stuporous nod and turned away. His brother’s words were a sharp blade to the chest. The quiet click of the door shutting behind him echoed in his ears.

For several moments, he stood in the hallway, staring blankly at the adjacent wall.

At least Torn had finally been honest to an extent. He didn’t trust Daxter, and he would continue to keep him in the dark. He would cut Daxter off, let him deal with his own consequences. Maybe he thought of Dax as a traitor already.

Fuck it.

His nails cut into his skin as he clenched his fists until they shook. He didn’t need his brother anymore anyway. He was seventeen years old, dammit. He’d prove him wrong, prove that he could play his cards right, and not endanger himself or his loved ones. And he certainly didn’t need Torn of all people to talk to Ashelin face to face. 

He could accomplish this on his fucking own.

Face twisted in furious determination, he glared down the hallway where he knew the elevator led to Ashelin’s personal office. He’d march there and slam on her door and demand answers.

His foot stalled in the air as soon as he tried to take a step.

Jak kept secrets from him. Torn refused to help him. He had never known Tess once had a godforsaken boyfriend until today. Precursors only knew what Keira was keeping to herself. It seemed nobody in his life trusted him. 

Ashelin wouldn’t even give him the time of day if he asked.

Daxter lowered his foot, breath shallow in his aching chest.

He really was on his own.

-/-

Daxter went back to class the next day. Not because he truly desired to, but because he simply had nothing else to do with his miserable existence. Being a Krimzon Guard was the only thing going for him. At least he’d make someone proud. Maybe save a baby from a burning building or somethin'. Arrest a shoplifter. He had given the Eco Users a chance and look where that had landed him - fucked sideways with his heart shattered into ugly pieces. 

The most daunting task was giving up on his self-appointed mission of figuring out the truth about the royal family. Without help, he was no closer to finding any answers of the past. The crazy thought of just scaling the Palace walls and spying on the Baron came to mind. But that was suicide. 

Jak probably would’ve done it.

Dax’s lip twitched humorlessly.

The blonde’s messages remained unopened and ignored on his communicator. And Jak must’ve realized his efforts at a reconciliation were pointless, because he finally stopped trying to reach out. 

It hurt.

And admitting it hurt only deepened the aching chasm in his heart. He wanted to be done with Jak. He didn’t want to fucking miss him anymore. He didn’t want to hear that soft laughter, or feel warm arms wrapped around him, or-

With a growl, Dax reached up and tugged at his hair until the sharp sting at his scalp distracted him.

Jak was nothing but an endless black hole of secrets and lies. He needed to keep reminding himself that when the pain became too much. When the temptation to reach out overwhelmed him. He knew where Daxter was for years and could have visited him any damn time he wanted. Was his mission so damn important he couldn’t have reached out to his childhood friend? Was Daxter so insignificant?

Tears stung his eyes and he rubbed them until the fragile skin was raw and red. 

Even Keira was acting peculiar. She couldn't meet his eyes when he tried to joke with her, desperate for some kind of distraction from his shit life. She mumbled responses, didn’t pick up on conversational cues, and Dax finally took the hint to leave her alone. 

The lesson passed in a droning blur. Only Sig’s booming reminder to check for community service the upcoming weekend kept him from dragging his feet right out the door. 

He impatiently waited his turn with the rest of the class, and bent down to read the electronic board.

His eyes widened.

Daxter … Border Patrol

“Oh, you have got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me!”

-/-

Daxter stood atop the Wall, chilling wind cutting through his skintight uniform, seeping past the fabric and into his bones.

He wasn’t just cold, he was numb.

His fingers twitched, his grip shifting every few seconds like he couldn’t commit to holding onto anything for too long. He dug them into his elbow before slapping his hand against his thigh, and repeating the process. Over and over. Below, the city lights flickered in the smog, casting long shadows over the streets. He could hear the distant hum of traffic, the occasional bark of orders from Guards stationed further down the perimeter.

But it all felt far away. Like he wasn’t really here. Like he wasn’t waiting for something.

No, not something. Someone.

His stomach twisted painfully at the thought. Gods, he was gonna be sick. He kept pacing toward the edge, just waiting for his stomach to up-heave. 

He's not coming. He wouldn’t.

Right?

Daxter bit his lip until he faintly tasted copper. 

But then… What exactly was Jak if not reckless and stubborn and unrelenting?

He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling deeply. The smell of metal and gunpowder filled his lungs, the ever-present stench of war lingering even in the stillest moments.

This wasn’t fair, not even remotely. Weeks of not being put on border patrol, and now, directly after a fallout with Jak, suddenly he was placed here? He should've refused. Should’ve demanded Sig replace him with someone else. Short of begging, he had asked a handful of his classmates to switch, but they had either brushed him off or laughed in his face. 

Besides the indignant rage, he couldn’t help feeling that old suspicion bubble up again. Why did he get placed here more than anyone else? Why now of all times? It was so easy to point fingers at Sig, since he was in charge, but Keira’s words from earlier slightly eased the injustice. The computer randomized the choices. Dax scoffed. Fuckin’ convenient AI program. 

The brief anger drowned in overwhelming anxiety. Why did he come up here? If his life was his own to lead, he could easily step into that elevator and never look back. What was he expecting? What would he do if Jak actually showed up?

A million scenarios played in his head, each worse than the last.

Maybe Jak would try to talk to him.

Maybe he'd ask for forgiveness.

Maybe he'd demand it.

Maybe he wouldn't say a damn thing. Just stare at him with those stupid, big blue eyes, waiting for Dax to make the first move.

Or maybe…

Maybe he wouldn’t come at all.

And somehow, that was worse.

Daxter let out a slow, shuddering breath, fingers curling into fists. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be relieved or disappointed. He was done with Jak, that was adamantly clear. But… he had sounded pretty desperate over the phone. Tess advised to keep the door open. The redhead had wanted the truth from his friend from the very beginning, and it was now being offered. Maybe he should hear him out?

“Gaah!” Dax threw his arms up and started pacing again.

For the next couple of minutes, he tried to focus on the task at hand. Haven needed protection, and that was his purpose tonight. But… eventually, he found himself turning his back on the industrial giant below to stare out at the Wasteland. The air was fresh and crisp and cool as it caressed him from over the shifting sands. 

Dax's stomach churned. His hand instinctively drifted toward the pocket where he kept his crystal, but he stopped himself before he could touch it.

More than anger or frustration or anxiety, Dax abruptly felt so sad. Melancholy weighed him down. His ears drooped so low the tips nearly brushed his shoulders. He didn’t have the energy to fight it anymore.

Hours passed. The wind howled against the Wall, a long, keening wail that drowned out the distant hum of the city.

Daxter barely heard it.

Because a sudden shiver tingled the base of his spine. A hundred pairs of eyes pinned to the back of his neck. He was undoubtedly being watched. He was here.

Almost easy to miss to the untrained eye, a dark shape, shifting in the shadows beyond his reach. Silent. Still.

Jak.

No, not Jak…

The Dark Warrior stood just ten feet away, the purple glow of his invisibility faint but unmistakable to the one who knew the truth. His posture was rigid, shoulders squared as if bracing for a fight, but he didn’t move forward. He just… stood there.

Waiting.

Daxter’s pulse pounded so loud it was all he could hear.

Jak had no right to be here. No right to come crawling back after everything.

But even as that thought burned through Dax’s brain, something deep in his gut twisted painfully at the sight of him. He couldn’t think straight.

Like an object touching water’s surface, Jak’s entire form rippled, and the invisibility faded away. Dax soaked everything in. The sharp silhouette of his obsidian horns against the dark. The way his white hair barely shifted in the breeze, despite the wind cutting through the air. The inky pool of his eyes hiding beautiful blue. The unnatural stillness of his body, like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

Neither of them spoke.

Neither of them moved.

The distance between them stretched, unbearable.

And then, very slowly, Jak reached out.

Clawed fingers extended, hesitant, like he was trying not to spook a wild animal. Or like he was the animal, unsure if he was even allowed to do this. For a split second, he looked so small, and that was somehow worse than anything Dax had been expecting.

The gesture was painfully familiar. Jak reaching for his wrist after an argument. Jak grabbing his sleeve to pull him closer. Jak wrapping hands around his waist and lifting him up. Jak, grabbing his hand for balance, steadying himself when the world felt too heavy.

Daxter felt his throat tighten. His fingers twitched, itching to move, to reach back, to-

The air shifted.

Daxter’s eyes widened, something primal thrumming in the back of his neck. Run.

A deafening pop echoed around them. White smoke exploded across the Wall in a rush of pressure and heat, swallowing them both.

Dax barely had time to bury his face into his elbow before coughing violently. His eyes watered instantly, lungs seizing from the acrid sting of KG smoke grenades.

The world turned into chaos.

Red lights snapped on, crisscrossing the smoke with search beams. Static shouts rang out, boots pounding against metal.

Daxter doubled over, hacking through the smog. A hand instinctively went to his gun, but it was already too late. He looked up, just barely making out Jak’s silhouette through the haze, crackling with faint arcs of purple light. Though he had become invisible again, the smoke billowed from his form with every movement, highlighting his outline.

Jak’s invisibility was useless now.

Red overwhelmed his vision as Krimzon Guards surrounded them on both sides. Their guns aimed directly at the Dark Warrior. Electricity snapping from their stun guns, ready to shoot at the first opportunity.  Panic clawed up Daxter’s spine as he watched Jak pivot, scanning for an opening between bodies. He staggered toward the edge of the Wall, vision cut down to inches. Then, without warning, he turned, ready to jump.

But he didn’t.

Something stopped him.

A gloved hand clamped around Daxter’s neck and yanked him backward, nearly lifting him clean off his feet.

“Gotcha,” Erol snarled into his ear.

Warm fingers curled, pressing into the vulnerable sides of his throat. The pressure made Dax gag, eyes bulging as he kicked out instinctively. But the grip didn’t loosen.

Through the veil of smoke and red light, Dax could see Jak’s entire posture change. His claws trembled. A snarl ripped from his chest so visceral that even the Guards flinched.

Erol pulled Dax close to his armored chest, using him like a human shield like the bastard he was. “I wouldn’t, monster,” he called into the smoke. Dax whined as he felt the barrel of a handgun press into the side of his head. “Unless you want to watch your little friend’s brains splatter on the ground.”

Jak froze.

They stood there - one glowing with fury, the other wheezing for air, the guards slowly encircling them, closing in with every passing second.

Dax dangled uselessly in Erol’s hold, fingers clawing at his glove, gasping for oxygen. His eyes - red-rimmed, wide with panic - locked onto Jak’s.

“Let him go,” Jak growled, voice low and inhuman . The smoke curled around him like something alive. Some of the Guards visibly shuddered from hearing the Dark Warrior’s guttural voice for the first time.

Erol barked a cruel laugh. “Oh? Suddenly you care about casualties now, freak?”

The glow on Jak’s skin pulsed violently. His claws twitched at his sides. Every muscle in his body screamed to lunge, to tear through the guards, to take Daxter back.

But he didn’t.

Instead… he lowered his arms. The bolts of dark eco coiling around his form settled.

Dax stilled. No. No no no nononono-

Jak refused to look at him again, instead obsidian eyes glared daggers at the Commander holding him hostage. “He’s mine.”

The words came out as a quiet growl. Measured. But they cut through the smoke like a blade.

Daxter’s breath hitched in his chest, heart thumping wildly. 

Erol cocked his head. “Yours?”

The surrounding Guards yelled and powered up their weapons as Jak stepped forward, just once. Let the red light beams hit his face. Fangs bared. “Mine to kill. Not yours.” There was a beat of stunned silence. “If you kill him… I fail my mission.” Then, slowly, Jak raised his arms in front of his chest, palms out.

The grip around Dax’s neck loosened slightly. His heart twisted painfully. “Wait…”

Jak’s eyes lowered to the ground. Through his eyelashes he leered at the Guards, every ounce of his body language radiating controlled menace.

“Well, well. Looks like even monsters have dignity.” Erol shoved Dax roughly to the ground. “Get this thing in cuffs, now!”

Dozens of armored bodies surged forward, guns at the ready. Jak let them come.

And Daxter… could do nothing but stare numbly as a Guard clamped powered handcuffs around Jak’s wrists. 

A prisoner.

A monster.

A liar - who saved him. Again.

Boots crunched through the settling smoke. They marched right past him with the Dark Warrior in tow, not even bothering to glance down at him or offer their assistance. Daxter couldn’t stop staring in shock at the spot Jak had just stood seconds ago. The world wasn’t real. 

Daxter remained on his knees, the sting of tear gas still burning his eyes. His throat ached with his pounding heartbeat. The sounds of Guards shouting orders, of weapons clanking against armor, of the elevator shutting faded behind him.

Then a hand fisted into his hair.

Dax let out a sharp gasp as he was yanked upright, his feet scrambling for balance. Erol’s mask was the first thing he saw through watery eyes.

“Cute little show, traitor,” Erol hissed. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice? I saw how he looked at you.” His voice was low now, venomous. “You don’t look at prey like that. You don’t surrender for prey. That freak was protecting you, just like before!”

Dax whimpered and thrashed against the tightening grip, burning his scalp in the process. 

“I wasn’t expecting that freak to be noble. I had planned to see the both of you on your knees begging to spare the other’s life. Then I could’ve proven to the Baron I was right all along.” He yanked Dax closer, until his nose brushed against the cold metal of his mask. “You deserve to rot in the cell next to him.”

“Then why don’t you?” he rasped, voice hoarse.

Erol chuckled, the sound cruel and condescending. “Because I don’t have proof. Yet. I could detain you for questioning, but I imagine your dear brother will swoop in and save the day like always…”

Then, without warning, he drove his knee up hard into Dax’s gut.

Pain exploded through his ribs. The air rushed out of his lungs in one broken wheeze. He collapsed like a rag doll, landing on his side atop the Wall’s icy ledge, coughing, gasping, struggling to breathe.

Erol stepped back, wiping his glove with mock disgust. “Thanks for the bait, Daxter,” he called over his shoulder as he stepped into the elevator. “You’ve been very helpful.”

Dax didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

The wind howled across the Wall in a mournful wail. Cold, sharp night air filled his lungs. He curled inward, arms wrapping around himself, face pressed to unforgiving metal, as the pain throbbed through his body.

His lips trembled.

And then without meaning to, without knowing how to stop, he started to sob.

Big, broken, ugly sobs that tore out of his throat and echoed across the emptiness surrounding him. He pressed a fist against his mouth to muffle it, but it wasn’t enough. It kept spilling out, wave after wave of grief and shame and fury and heartbreak, until there was nothing left but the sound of the wind and his own shattered breathing.

Jak was gone, and Daxter had done nothing to stop it.