60Patriciate
Jak breathed out a slow sigh of relief when the burn of dark eco finally worked its way out of his system. He rubbed his temples in a vain hope to push back the throbbing migraine the shift back gave him, and straightened his back slowly. He could hear his spine pop, and in a way the sound felt like music to his ears. Jak twitched his neck from side to side, and tried to return his focus to the world around him.
"JAK! LOOK OUT!" Daxter screeched. Jak jerked his head up in time to see the remains of Kor begin to crash down into the ground. The head of the metal head queen bashed right into the active rift ring. Jak cursed. He twisted around to dodge and saw the kid, free of the bubble Kor put him in.
"Precursors!" Jak hissed between his teeth. He dove for the kid and the stone, and then rolled them both out of the way. The body crashed down scant inches from Jak's back and knocked the stone from his hand. It bounced and came to a stop a few feet away; dust and metal head remains, practically showered Jak in dirt and grime when the body fell. When the destruction stopped Jak pushed himself upward. He looked down at the kid, who stared back with wide eyes.
"You okay?" Jak rasped, ears slanted in concern. The kid nodded quickly and gave Jak a thumbs up. Jak sighed. "Oh thank the precursors."
"Yeah, let's thank the guys who got us in this situation in the first place," Daxter grumbled. He wriggled his way out from under Jak's leg. "Yes, let's thank them. Let's not worry about Daxter who just got squished by your big ass. You ain't light you know! And I'm small!"
Jak chuckled. "Sorry Dax. You okay?"
Daxter shot Jak a grin back and waved his hand tiredly. "Nah, I'm good. Let's just not do that again."
Jak nodded once. He stood to his feet and dusted off his knees, then reached down to help the kid up and check him over. He couldn't find any wounds, no scrapes. It honestly looked like Kor didn't bother to hurt the child given everything, but Jak decided not to look a gift yakow in the mouth. Instead he just smiled, a sort of half quirk of his lips, and rubbed at the kids head.
"Glad you were out for most of that," Jak murmured. "Pretty scary stuff there."
The kid nodded, and then looked over to the stone. Jak turned to help out Daxter. He checked over his friend—even if Daxter said that nothing broke Jak needed to be certain. It didn't help that, despite a year of having Daxter on his shoulder, Jak still worried the dark eco aura he gave out and how it might affect the teen-turned-ottsel.
"I'm fine, Jak. Quit ya fussin'," Daxter grumbled. He shoved Jak's hand off of his head and scampered up Jak's leg with practiced ease. Jak sighed in relief.
"Good," the teen mumbled.
"'Sides, I'm the hero, remember?" Daxter cheered, and Jak's lips quirked back up.
"That you are, Dax," Jak agreed.
Neither teen noticed the kid toddle on over to the Precursor stone at first, not until little hands touched the crystalline shape and a flash of light swallowed the world. Jak paused. His breath hitched; the light felt warm and safe and a part of him hadn't realized that warm and safe weren't things he'd felt anymore. At first he closed his eyes, fought back the feeling of tears that threatened to overwhelm him. Then the light left, along with it the feeling, and Jak found himself hollow, drawn out and carved thin. His throat felt dry, and he opened his eyes to find the source of the distburance—
The rest of whatever breath Jak had left him in a rush of, "Oh man…a Precursor," spoke so faint that Daxter alone probably heard what he said. The kid backed up, stared at the glowing, tall elfin being. Jak quickly wrapped a hand around the child's shoulder to steady him. Both stared in awe at the creature with identical looks. Even Daxter found himself struck oddly silent.
The Precursor tilted its head. There weren't eyes, but it glowed like a miniature sun of pure eco. A second's pause settled between the four before it even started to speak. It's 'voice' reminded Jak of the Oracle in the water slums, of the idols back before the invasion that he'd romped around with, with Daxter. It sounded rough, but understanding. Cryptic, but clear. Jak couldn't breathe.
"It is finished…" the Precursor rumbled, and Jak swallowed heavily through his dry throat. "Our ancient enemy is no more." Kor, the thing meant Kor. Precursors Jak felt a bit faint at the thought. He'd finished an ancient war; not once, in all this time, Jak thought about the fact that the war with the metal heads went on for far longer than Haven's history. He ducked his head and pressed his lips.
He'd ended a war.
"Take hope brave one!" the Precursor continued and Jak's brow furrowed. "The terrible darkness inside you is now balanced by a glorious light." At the word 'darkness' Jak snapped his head up. As the Precursor continued he felt himself pale. A light? No, within him Jak felt no light. Dark eco; all the remained, even now—the things that the Baron did to him. The pain. The suffering. His limbs burned with the substance faintly even in his day to day life. Jak breathed out slowly. The Precursor; it was wrong.
For a moment Jak got the feeling that the Precursor frowned at him, like it sensed his thoughts and was disappointed. It felt like all of the beings hard work, all of its guidance over the years—the years in Sandover and then the year here of fighting and bleeding and hard work—meant nothing if Jak didn't listen. Jak licked his lips, opened his mouth to apologize, but the being shook its head.
"We will meet again," it promised. The words rang almost ominously in the air before it turned and flew straight into the rift gate.
From his shoulder Daxter hunkered down. His ears shifted flat and he glanced to Jak. "Weeeeell…" he dragged out slowly. "That happened."
Jak nodded, gaze focused on the ring, eyes wide. He didn't notice when Brutter's lurker balloon landed down with Keira, Samos, and Samos. The rift rider thankfully remained intact during the journey, and when Jak did notice—after a yell of, "Jak!" from Keira—he felt thankful that the thing survived at all. Thankful, and sad.
He glanced down to the kid.
"Jak, we haven't much time!" Keira said quickly. She moved into his space and Jak frowned. He glanced from her to the ring and noticed how little of it seemed left. No, there really wasn't any time left, was there? "I've set the coordinates back to our village. Let's go home, everyone!"
Jak didn't want to burst Keira's bubble. A part of him longed for it, longed for the beach of Sandover and the simplicity of life—longed for what had been and not what was now. He couldn't have it though. Not anymore. Not after everything that he'd done, seen, faced. Jak looked down at his hands, and then at the kid who looked back up at him.
Could he condemn a child to the future that awaited him? Could he give the boy a scant few years of happiness, knowing that when he was fourteen he'd come here, to this hell and suffer at the hands of those who should have known better? To face Erol and Praxis and to become a killer and a monster? Jak closed his eyes, he breathed out slowly.
"Keira…" he said, voice soft. The roughness of it eased away as he thought. "We are home."
'Dax, this…horrible place. It's…our world!'
Jak grimaced and then slipped past Keira before she could say anything more. He tuned out Samos arguing with himself and instead helped the Kid hop up onto the platform that held the rift rider. He gave the boy a small, almost sad smile.
"You stay safe when you're there, okay?" Jak murmured. "Remember to protect this scrawny little blabber mouth that you'll meet. You'll know him when you see him, and he'll need you as much as you'll need him." The kid nodded his head, face set into serious lines that Jak himself wore.
"Hey!" Daxter whined and when Jak arched an eyebrow in his direction he mumbled petulantly, "'m not scrawny."
"Sure you aren't, Dax," Jak chuckled softly. His ears twitched as he noted that the conversation between the two Samos' almost grew to a close, especially when Keira started to chime in entirely confused about the situation. He glanced to Daxter, who gave a short nod, and then the ottsel darted off to help continue to distract the three just long enough that Jak could finish his goodbye.
Jak's attention drew back to his younger self when he heard a snap of the cord from around the kid's neck. The kid held out the seal to Jak, eyes wide and face stern. Jak stared down at it. This, this was his. This was something that was a sign of who he was, that he was the heir to this city. Jak swallowed. Did he want it? Did he want that responsibility?
No. No, it wasn't fair to take it. Jak closed his eyes and swallowed resolutely. He reached out and curled the child's fingers back around the seal. He shook his head softly and opened his eyes. The kid looked up at him, confused.
"It's yours," Jak said softly. "Keep it…remember where you come from. At least one of us should remember…."
The kid stared down at the amulet, and then back up at Jak. He nodded resolutely and tucked it under his overalls. Jak smiled, and then blinked.
"Oh! Right, and stay away from any whumpbee nests on your ninth birthday," Jak added quickly.
"Yeah! That wasn't fun!" Daxter chimed in. He jumped back up onto Jak's shoulder.
"And whose fault was it that we even got in that mess in the first place?" Jak shot back, arms crossed over his chest.
"Well I don't know why ya lookin at me like that," Daxter replied absentmindedly, but Jak could read the faint hint of nervousness in his best friends face.
"Sure you don't," Jak chuckled.
"Now boys! Enough yammering! My younger self has to get going before it's too late!" Samos interrupted, ambling over to whack both Jak and Daxter over the heads with his stick. Jak jerked and rubbed at the spot with a scowl. Apparently not even saving the world, again, got him free from getting whacked over the head by Samos.
Jak backed away from the rift rider and gave a nod to the small kid, who nodded back before he climbed up onto the seat, the younger Samos already settled down. Jak watched them leave, a small part of him sad. He knew what future awaited the child, and a part of him wished he just stopped this before it even began.
"It's funny," Samos murmured from next to Jak, "but he won't remember any of it."
Jak glanced to Samos out of the corner of his eye. "No…" he mumbled. "I remember the light."
Maybe he would remember more than just that. Jak hoped so.
It'd been a while before Jak exhaustedly got back to Haven. Exiting the nest had to take time; Jak and Daxter needed to protect Keira, Brutter, and Samos on their way out. Metal heads, even without Kor, were still a vicious threat and attacked on sight; although now they were uncoordinated. They had to rest frequently, curled up in hidden alcoves once they were free of the dank, twisted caverns that Kor built up. Samos hadn't aged well and if Jak knew anything he knew that he couldn't push Samos. Besides, Keira would have his head if he even tried.
Most nights, as they worked themselves back within communications range, Jak spent awake with Daxter snoozing away in his lap. His morph gun rested against his shoulder within easy reach just in case any metal heads surfaced while Brutter, Samos, Keira, and Daxter slept. He spent those hours with his eyes focused out on the world, watching, and his fingers gently carding through Daxter's fur. The few times where he did sleep, he only did so when he felt assured in their safety. Even then Jak didn't sleep for long, only an hour or two before he went back to his watch.
When they reached Mar's gun Jak paused for rest. Daxter pulled out Ashelin's communicator and tried to hail the Underground, tried to hail Ashelin, anyone. They were met with static and silence and a part of Jak worried that the metal heads inside Haven had taken over. Without Kor they weren't organized, but there still remained a veritable hoard within the city when Jak left. Lips pressed thin, feeling the despondency of his companions, Jak decided they should press onward. They air train had dropped him off a ways away and maybe they'd be able to contact someone there, or even better maybe someone already sent it on ahead to await their return.
They found the site empty, no air train, nothing but torn up ground and metal heads. Jak made quick work of the beasts and focused on the others. He built up a basecamp against the craggy rock, double checked their rations with Daxter, and set up a round where everyone would give a go at the communicator in hour intervals. They just had to wait, Jak thought. Someone would come for them. The fact that Samos agreed with him at least rallied Keira to his side. Brutter didn't doubt him one bit, and Daxter—Daxter rambled in the way he did when worried.
It took three days more before communications came back. Three days of hardly sleeping, three days spent checking the perimeter Jak set up and rationing off the rations he had with him. By the time three days passed everyone, even Samos, began to feel like they'd been abandoned. Then the communicator, for the first time, gave something other than static.
"Jak? Jak can you read me?" Ashelin's voice came through. It crackled and popped and some of the words were dropped, but the basics of what she asked where clear.
Jak snapped up the communicator from Keira, whose turn it was to try and get into contact, and responded. "Ashelin. What the hell is going on?"
"The communications tower was hit sometime after you went into the nest," Ashelin said through broken static. "We couldn't be sure you were alive until we got it back up. It's good to hear your voice."
"Yeah," Jak mumbled. "Kor's dead."
For a moment there remained silence, and then suddenly instead of Ashelin it was Torn. "Are you certain?"
"Yeah," Jak growled out. "I have his head if you want proof."
"…no, I'll trust your word on this. It explains the sudden erratic behavior of the mess in the city." There was a pause where Jak breathed out a sigh of relief. "How are you holding up?"
"Low on rations," Jak said. "We've also got Keira, Samos, and Brutter here."
"The Shadow's with you!?"
Jak paused. He'd almost forgotten that Samos, the younger Samos, was the mysterious 'Shadow' that lead the Underground.
"Er, yeah," Jak mumbled. "I thought you knew?"
"No! We'd been searching for him for days. For Mar's sake, what was he thinking?!"
Before Jak could even answer Samos grabbed the communicator out of his hand and decided to voice his own response, words filled with the condescension Jak and Daxter were so familiar with.
"I was thinking that I had important matters to take care of once Kor was dead! Matters that could only be handled in the nest!" Samos ground out. "Matters such as specifically ensuring that young Jak got to a place of safety so that he could grow up to eventually save this city!"
"Jak's there with you," Torn said, voice pitched low. Jak winced. "What in Mar's name are you talking about?"
"Are you that blind, Commander?" Samos grumbled. "Even I noticed the similarities when I first saw them together!"
"You did?!" Jak blurted out suddenly. "You never thought to tell me?"
"I knew you'd learn the truth if you just opened your eyes," Samos grumbled back. "But of course you'd forget what I told you. In one ear and out the other, never listening to your elders!"
Jak scrubbed a hand through his hair and growled back, "Well telling me 'find yourself, Jak!' was extremely cryptic given the circumstances."
"It was perfectly clear!" Samos defended.
"Perfectly clear my a—"
Ashelin, at some point, apparently got hold of the communicator again because her voice wafted over sharp and clear, interrupting Jak before he could even finish the sentence. "Explain. Now."
"Jak is the heir to the city," Samos said bluntly. "The child we protected was sent to the past to keep him safe from his enemies. He grows up to be the," here Samos harrumphed out of annoyance, "hero to save Haven from Kor and the metal heads."
There was a moment's pause, and then, "Can you prove it?"
"Of course! Jak has the seal to the House of Mar, don't you Jak?" Samos turned and peered at Jak determinedly. Jak looked away. "Don't you, Jak?"
Well, shit. Jak hated that voice. Jak hated when Samos used that voice. He winced, and for a moment questioned his own decision to let the kid keep the only thing that was truly his. Maybe it'd been selfish of him, but Jak always wished he had something from his family, something from before living with his 'uncle' in Sandover.
"Answer me, boy!" Samos barked out and Jak winced again.
"I…don't have it," Jak mumbled. "Must've lost it back in Sandover."
Or, more likely, he never had it in the first place. Jak didn't tell Samos that, though. Let the old man think he hadn't, possibly, changed a bit of history on a selfish whim.
Samos, predictably, exploded. "You what?!"
Jak curled in on himself, ears falling back as he let the admonishments wash over him with a grimace on his face. Disappointing Samos had always settled wrong with him, and even know he didn't like the lecture and the berating that he received. Perhaps he'd never get used to constantly screwing up in the old Sage's eyes. As Samos continued, Daxter quickly rose to Jak's defense and suddenly there was a cacophony of noise loud enough to burn his ears. Jak clamped a hand over them in an attempt to drown out the sound, especially as Ashelin and Torn joined in on the conversation.
It was Keira who put a stop to everything. She whistled loudly, loud enough to pierce Jak's ears and leave them ringing. He almost couldn't make out what she said, but he followed the flow of the conversation well enough.
"Even if Jak doesn't have this seal thingy that doesn't mean he isn't the…heir…to the city," Keira said, and she stumbled over the words enough that Jak remembered she hadn't known who the kid was to the Underground. Despite all the times that Jak had dragged him over to her garage to hide out from KG patrols when he was babysitting not once had he told her about the boy being a, well, a prince.
Fuck. Didn't that mean Jak was a prince, too? His head hurt from just thinking about it, already with the pounding migraine that threatened to put him flat on his ass from all the yelling earlier. Exhaustion, too, wanted to overtake him. He drowned out the rest of the conversation and settled himself against a wall. He curled down and dug his fingers into his hair, ears pressed back and down. He didn't want to be the heir to the city. He didn't want the responsibility. If people knew, if anyone but the Underground knew—Jak feared the consequences. He feared being put into power, being forced to have the lives of thousands on his hands, forced to command people who had so easily before broken, tortured, changed him.
Somehow, through all the arguing and fighting and Keira calming down risen tempers Samos squirreled out of Ashelin and Torn the promise of an air train to come pick them up. At some point Daxter wound his way around Jak's neck and began soothingly running clawed small fingers through his hair. Keira carefully got Jak up and lead him towards the air train when it arrived, shushed her father, and admist it all Brutter remained blissfully silent.
At some point, during the ride, Jak passed out.
It was weird to see the city so cheerful when all Jak remembered of it was the oppression and darkness. Heads were down and people shuffled about quickly, determined to get through their business and then return home, out of the watchful eyes of the KG. They kept quiet aside from the sound of zoomers and the KG talking of their radios, or the Baron's propaganda commentary, the city had always been eerily quiet.
Now, though, it bustled. People cheered and moved freely. They embraced and laughed. They mourned through parties, rejoiced at the end of a war that had spanned centuries. They praised Praxis, Ashelin specifically as the Baron's death and his crimes had been reported shortly after the clean up—and Jak felt like it'd been a kick to the teeth to find out it'd been a full week and a half before they'd even been thought of and rescued.
Tess had at some point gotten Ashelin to give her the Hip Hog, and then she'd promptly handed it over to Daxter. They'd conspired for a day or two and then the Hip Hog debuted as the Naughty Ottsel with a loud, cheerful celebration of the end of a year of hell. Jak let himself relax, let himself revel in being surrounded by friends and comrades. He tried not to think about his position, his status in regards to the city despite that it followed him around like a lurker shark biding its time for its prey.
As Jak moved back indoors, settled down with Sig and Daxter—Keira and Samos wandered off to another section of the bar with Keira eagerly discussing what she was going to do now that they were going to live in Haven permanently—and Tess brought them a round of drinks. Daxter and Sig started off right away with Daxter telling the epic story of how they defeated Kor for Sig. Each dramatic wave of the ottsel's hand and each exaggeration of the story brought a smile to Jak's face as he carefully nursed the drink in front of him.
Jak never drank before. The entire thing felt like a novelty and a taboo all at once. The alcohol burned, but it burned pleasantly unlike the burn of eco that shifted around under his skin and through his muscles. Jak said nothing but Haven hurt. Breathing pained him, the air stagnant and corrupted, touch by the dark eco that the city used as a power source without abandon. Drinking water often burned down his throat, and even spending hours fighting despite that his muscles protested, that his heart and the beat of his own blood felt like fire, took its toll eventually.
The alcohol, amazingly enough, washed away a bit of the pain. It left behind a dull sensation of warmth that Jak sorely missed, but it didn't fill the empty feeling that burrowed deep in his chest. Still the feeling was pleasant, and a reprieve from the pain. For the first time in a long time Jak felt himself truly relax. He leaned against Sig, let himself just let go of everything. His worries washed away in a pleasant buzz and hum of Daxter's voice and the warmth of Sig's skin.
Luck reared its ugly head quickly enough when Ashelin picked her way gingerly over to Jak who dozed lightly against Sig. He felt his job was done, he was done. Ashelin felt otherwise.
"Jak," Ashelin said carefully. "May I speak with you? In private."
Jak blinked, and quite suddenly everything came rushing back. He tensed, pulled himself from Sig, and turned to face Ashelin. The pleasant hum of the alcohol beneath his skin kept him at least lightly relaxed, but the realization, the knowledge of what Ashelin probably wanted to speak about, now hovered back into his conscious though.
Daxter, at the table, fell silent. Sig looked at him in concern.
"Now, Jak," Ashelin said softly. "Please."
Jak swallowed heavily, nodded once, and got up from the booth.
"You okay, cheery?" Sig asked.
"Want me to come with you?" Daxter perked up, ready to clamber onto Jak's shoulder. Jak shook his head towards Daxter and told Sig he was fine. Silently he followed Ashelin towards the back. He wasn't surprised to see Torn there as well, leaned against a table, arms crossed, face set into a scowl.
Jak scrubbed at his face tiredly. The pleasantness of the alcohol left his system in a rush. He held up a hand to stop either of them from talking for a moment. Jak needed to get his bearings straight, his thoughts in order. Show no weakness, show none of the signs that you are afraid. Jak grit his teeth.
"Would you like to sit?" Ashelin asked. She took a seat herself up on the table, legs crossed.
"I'll stand," Jak said back and focused his gaze onto the two of them. "What is it."
Torn huffed. "What is it, he says," the Commander grumbled. "We need to figure out what to do with this mess." Torn waved one hand, gesturing at the metaphorical mess he spoke about. "Without the kid the Underground's claims of being fighting for the people suddenly become the talk of traitors. The kid was the lynch pin, Jak. With him we could be seen as people trying to take back the city."
"Weren't you?" Jak shot back, brow furrowed.
"Of course we damn well were!" Torn snapped and slammed his fist down onto the table. "Without a real source of backing though we're nothing but a bunch of traitors, fighting against Baron Praxis! Even with Ashelin's support—" Torn cut himself off with a curse.
"What Torn is trying to say," Ashelin continued, voice even and calm, "is that to the council and nobility I'm not a known ally of the Underground, and they're quite aware that I've been ignorant of the majority of my father's crimes. Even if I vouch for the Underground the majority will only see the harm they've done. Without the heir to the throne they're nothing more than traitors, and more than a few would be all too happy to pin the blame of the metal head invasion on the Underground's shoulders. They don't have a legitimate claim to force change."
Jak scowled. "But they helped this city!" He waved his hand out, exploding suddenly with anger. "They did what Praxis didn't. They fought against the metal heads and kept people safe!"
Torn sighed. "It won't matter. We're still traitors in their eyes. The most we can hope for is banishment to the wastes and a slow death, the least would be a quick death."
Jak clenched his fists and grit his teeth. He wanted to say that such a thing wasn't fair, but he remembered this was Haven. This was Hell. Of course it wouldn't be fair, of course nothing would be fair here. All those people, everyone in the Underground—Torn, Tess, Samos….Jak breathed out explosively and ran his hands through his hair. He slumped down on himself.
"What can we do?" he asked plaintively, and for all the world he actually looked sixteen, bordering on seventeen. He looked like a lost and confused kid. He didn't notice when Torn swallowed heavily, or how Ashelin stared at him with wide eyes like they both suddenly saw something that neither expected to see.
For a moment nobody said anything, and then Ashelin spoke up firmly, "We just have to prove you're the heir to the city."
Torn twisted, his eyes snapped open wide as Jak's head jerked up.
"Ashelin you can't be serious!" Torn growled out. "Anything we do to actually provide irrefutable proof would mean reinstating the—"
Ashelin held up her hand and cut Torn off. "I know what it means, Commander, and if that's what it takes…" she breathed out slowly. "Perhaps, in the end, it is for the best."
Jak's gaze danced between them, lips pressed thin. What would come would come, Jak figured. Right now he had to keep his friends safe, he had to keep the heroes safe, the innocents, and all the people who only wanted to do right by Haven. Jak straightened out, squared his shoulders, and nodded once.
"What do I have to do," Jak asked, and that was the end of that.
