Loser

CHANGE

The fantasy more or less ran like this:

Towards the end of their usual bug-hunt Jak suddenly stops, gobsmacked. "Dax! Look!" He points to a large machine full of random gears. It looks a bit like it might grind someone up, but Dax isn't afraid, because Dax is brave and all that.

"What is it?" Dax asks, hoping, but not ready to commit to actually asking if it is indeed the mythical devise – the grail – the fruit of all their labors.

"This is what we've been looking for," says Jak in a giddy voice. "This will turn you back into an elf."

Daxter's heart flies. He's never felt such pure joy before. "What do I need to do?"

"Nothing. Just stand there between those two poles." Jak touches the machine, which whirrs to life. Golden mist sprays out of it, and suddenly Dax really is floating. He looks down to see his old body gracefully coalescing around him. Tears well up in his eyes as he looks at a conveniently shiny section of wall.

His face is narrow, and body spindly and short, but, man, he's never been so happy to see it. He doesn't care that he is scrawny, or that his ears look weird or that his front teeth are poking out of his mouth. He loves his body. Every beautiful elvish flaw.

Jak pats him on the back, congratulating him. And Tess –elven again – smiles with joy to see her old body back. And everyone is happy forever.

It's a good fantasy. Even after 6 years it still had the hopeful smack of plausibility.

Jak chose not to go off hunting for a new route to those inconvenient eco vents the next day. It wasn't that unusual; Jak went on hunches as much as he did orders. Torn's priority was neutralizing Metal Heads first, finding precursor tech second, and thoroughly mapping the place out a very, very distant third, and as long as Jak was doing one of those, he didn't complain too much.

At first, Dax didn't give it much thought when Jak picked a section they'd been through just three months ago. Every so often Jak decided to loop back and re-explore a part of the Precursor ruins they'd been to before. There were more nooks and crannies, half-blocked passages and weird out of the way holes than could really be covered in a single day. Thoroughness was not a realistic possibility.

As time went on, however, this sudden diversion from agreed on plan began to bother Dax. It was a little too purposeful. Just a bit too much like Jak knew something Dax didn't and damn well should. Something was up with Jak. He liked to stroke Dax's fur while he thought things over and he was doing a lot of this stopping and petting this particular morning. Normally, Dax liked being petted and it all worked out, but today the sensual enjoyment was tainted with guilt.

Dax suspected Jak's mood was due to Daxter's drunken tirade the day before. He gritted his teeth. Dang it. Should have known to keep his trap shut. It was a momentary loss of composure. Jak didn't need the old guilt trip stirred up again. Yeah, sure Jak was responsible in large part for his current state, but the dude had already done his penance. Dax had forgiven him long ago – honestly.

Dax knew talking it over just dug the pit of self-recrimination deeper and the hell if Dax wanted to play another round of "I'm sorry." There was nothing more gut wrenchingly painful than watching such a dignified, strong friend get down on his knees in tears and apologize for what had been a totally unpredictable accident. Three times was enough. So Dax played it cool and pretended he didn't notice the way Jak looked at him.

It would blow over, and they'd both be back to laughing soon enough. Best to just concentrate on the job at hand.

They had entered through a small hole clogged with vines and half hidden behind an enormous tree trunk. The first sections of ruin were bare of everything except dust and disintegrating leaves, but Dax smelled rats not too far in. Sure enough a few metal heads had migrated back to this section. They cleaned those out first, because nothing could be properly explored while something waited to drop on ya. It turned out to be a rather piddling haul for such a long zoomer ride.

"So, er… Jak," said Dax as they backtracked through the quiet corridors. This place still had a bit of ancient lighting going on – a low, eerie, bluish glow that emanated from the walls themselves. "Why here?"

"Tech," said Jak.

Dax nodded and adjusted his focus to keep an eye out for anything that looked promising.

Despite being miles away from yesterday's ruins, the corridors were nearly identical. Precursors were rather boring in their madness: nothing they did made sense, but it all didn't make sense in more or less the same way. Dax's eyes drifted over a pair of cracked ceramic vases. Jak was on the same wavelength, crossing over to them with swift strides. There was no market for Precursor pottery, so Jak smashed them with a couple well aimed kicks. Occasionally they'd find active orbs in them, but if there weren't, it was no loss; the stupid things were stamped out of cookie cutter molds anyway. Dax vaguely wondered why the Precursors had so many flowerpots and vases. You wouldn't think an underground nation would be that big into houseplants.

Ah well, no tech, no surprise. They'd already gone over most of the obvious stuff the first time. Anything left would be hidden in the nearly inaccessible parts.

Which meant climbing and jumping those damn pits. Both tedious and terrifying at the same time, what a combo! Eh, actually hunting tech was a lot safer than hunting metal heads -- usually the worst that happened was that the thing blew up and sprayed black eco around the room – and Dark Jak got himself a meal out of it.

Still, come to think of it, maybe hanging around Jak when he activated random shit was not the smartest thing to do.

"Hey buddy, how about I go take these metalhead orbs back to the zoomer, maybe catch a nap. You can come get me when you've found something."

"Wait," said Jak. The elf was scanning a huge room in a purposeful way, looking past the hulking lump of machinery in the middle, and staring up at the doorways some sixty feet above them. The Precursors had a liking for oversized chambers ringed with balconies, none of which had railings, and many of which had no stairs.

You know, maybe the damn Precursors could fly. That would explain a lot.

"Dax, get the light eco in the backpack."

Light eco was flipping rare – which was why Torn was wasting so much of Jak's time trying to find easy routes to it. The few fonts near the surface had already been used up, but it was still plentiful enough in the deepest and most inaccessible parts of the runes. Neat stuff, but honestly, not that useful to Elfkind. If you were desperate enough you could use it to heal yourself, but like it's black opposite, it could do some pretty funny things to a guy. The priesthood loved the shit, used it to "commune with the all" and stuff like that – and should one of them suddenly sprout a third eye, they just took it as a good omen. Most elves weren't ready to take that kind of chance.

Jak, of course, was different. Jak used it to bring out his other, other persona.

On one hand, Light Jak was not nearly as scary as Dark Jak – in fact Light Jak literally glowed with innocence and purity, and, well, light. On the other hand, it was still a damn creepy thing to see happen to an elf – especially a close friend. Light Jak for all his beatific looks, wasn't Jak.

Daxter reluctantly handed over an eggshell container marked with a blue dot. "You gonna summon him?"

"Only way to get up there. I need wings." Ah yeah. Another vote in support of the "precursors could fly" theory.

Jak cracked the little box with one hand, bluish glow seeped from between his fingers briefly before absorbing. A moment later. Jak's body grew transparent. Daxter, swept up in the side effects, felt gravity's pull grow lighter. His fur lifted off his back and puffed out – not entirely from his fear. Then with a sudden fluff of energy, long glowing tendrils flowed out from Jak's back, pulled by an unfelt wind. They looked more like streamers than wings. How they functioned at all was beyond Dax's imagination.

But they did function. With one leap they were up off the ground, Light beat his wings twice to reach the next balcony up, then turned around and flew across the empty space to an even higher balcony. With two more zigzagging jumps they'd made it to the very highest open door. Here Light let his wings drop and fade away.

But he didn't go away. Jak's personas were being rather persistent lately. Never a good sign. "Hey Light, you -- you got something you want to do up here?"

"Yes." Light regarded him with a distant but pleasant smile, and Daxter's throat dried up.

Light walked purposefully down a new corridor to a small room just jammed with Precursor doodads and whats-its. Dax knew from experience that most of them wouldn't do shit, but one or two might still have a bit of life in them after a thousand years of rotting. The light was natural here, provided by a sizable chunk missing from the domed ceiling. No one had been up here since the Precursor's had disappeared so many centuries before. Considering how close to the surface they were, that was a surprise.

Daxter was getting even more nervous. Jak had a sense of what Precursor crap did, and that was a damn useful thing. But Light… Light actually knew what it did. No guesswork involved. That would be awesome if Light were a normal person, but Light's mind wasn't really on the elvish track and he seemed at times to have his own agenda, quite separate from Jak's or the good of the species.

The sooner Light disappeared the better, in Dax's view. He just couldn't trust the dude.

Despite the large amounts of showy (but completely unrecognizable) machinery, what Light honed in on was actually rather small -- a rounded lump of cream colored ceramic, with a few narrow bands of geometric motifs. It seemed strangely irregular in shape until Light picked it up and Daxter saw that it fit naturally in the curves of his cupped palm.

"Lie on the floor, Daxter," Light said. "Don't be afraid."

Okay, no. Angelic looking being or no, that was not a command Daxter could take.

"Sorry, your Brightness." Daxter jumped off Light's shoulder and put a bit of space between himself and the device. "But you aren't messing with me no-how with that thing. I've been hit with waaaaaay too much funkiness over the years to walk into active tech blind. Why don't you let Jak back, and we'll take that device back and let the smart guys at HQ see what it does."

"Jak fears change."

Yeah, that's Light for you. You make a perfectly good protest and he comes back with some complete non sequitur and expects you to nod and say: "Okay, then." What the hell was Light trying to do to him? Give him glowing wings like Jak? A third eye? A new godly persona who would talk in enigmatic phrases? Oh hell no. One "Light" was enough in this partnership. Jak, buddy, come back.

Seeing Dax wasn't about to lie down (literally) for him, Light offered further "reassurance." "I will heal your soul."

This level of insistence was new. Even Dark Jak knew how to take "no" for an answer. Daxter's heart went into double time. Facing down a dude more than 15 times your weight with mysterious Precursor powers took a lot of courage, but Dax had done it before. "Hand it over, Light, I'll put it in the pack for ya. We'll have the big boys study this and then if it's good, I will lie down and take it."

"Very well." Light cocked his head and then held the device out in front of him, as if offering it up. Daxter took the bait, but before he could actually touch the device it began to glow. By then it was too late to run. The bright flash hit Dax like an ocean wave, bowling him over, and rolling him across the floor into the corner.

Daxter wasn't sure what the device was doing but he knew it felt awful. A stream of light eco invaded his flesh like some oozy tide, pushing his skin out from the inside. It was the most disgusting feeling he'd ever felt… but it didn't actually hurt. He felt like he was being turned to goo. His bones wavered and bent and collapsed, his fur and flesh melded in a pasty lump. His muscles gave out at that point, and he couldn't do anything, not move, not even breathe. That was when he mercifully passed out.

The white glow was fading from the relic in Jak's hands, fading from Jaks skin, and in a moment there was nothing but the shaft of sunlight coming through the broken dome to show the wide-mouthed shock on Jak's face. Dax blinked slowly, realizing that he was conscious and the damage had been done.

He opened a dry mouth to speak, then thought better of it. He was dizzy and tired and his body felt… cold. That first dark eco pool had pulled less of a whammy on him than this.

But… but… his eye fell on his hand and, oh hell, Light wasn't lying. This was it. He was an Elf again. Finally. The fantasy had come true, and in almost the way Dax had visualized it. He really aught to have known what Light was up to. In retrospect it was so obvious.

"Dax?" Jak looked confused and shocked, staring down at Daxter as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Of course, Jak didn't remember being Light any more than he remembered being Dark. It was clear from his expression that he was expecting to wake up on the balcony, the moment the wings were no longer needed. He wasn't expecting to see Dax in elf form any more than Dax had expected to be in elf form.

There was the briefest look of horror on Jak's face. It lasted less than a second and then it was flooded over by concern.

Dax lifted his hand and held it in front of his face. The movement was graceful as if this were the way his joints had always worked. As if there had never been a time when turning his palms up to the sky was impossible. Had his fingers always been this long? He curled to his side and saw his body, long and pale and naked. Elven.

This isn't me Daxter thought. This body belongs to someone else. It can't be mine. It was a crazy thought, but it went well with the cacophony of emotions he was feeling. Yeah, there was joy -- huge whooping amounts of joy -- but there was terror, too, that this was just too good to be true. There was a hitch. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach. The emotions crowding his chest made it ache.

"Are you okay?" Jak asked, quietly.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me what you were going to do?" Dax's voice was harsh and bitter and he cringed at how ungrateful his words came out.

"I didn't know," said Jak. "I mean, I knew there was something here – part of me knew. But … this is what you wanted. Dax… this is it! You are back! You are you!"

I'm me. Dax felt a happiness welling up and he grasped on to it, because dammit, this was what he wanted.

"Yeah, totally, Jak. Hell, this is all the holidays rolled up into one massive present." He pulled his lips into a smile and it felt so odd, he couldn't help but run his fingers (soft smooth, snort nailed) over his cheeks. Had his fingers always been this sensitive to touch? Dax crunched his eyes closed and was lost for just a moment in the sheer sensations his body was giving him.

Then he felt another touch against his face and he instinctively flinched away. He opened his eyes to see Jak kneeling over him, looking stung. Then it was as if a wall went up. Jak's face took on that stern, no nonsense look he always had when they were off adventuring and he had to be on high guard.

"I'm fine," Dax reassured him, lightly clapping his arm. "Same ole Orange Lightning, in a new improved package."

A small smile tweaked Jak's lips briefly. "I'm glad."

Oh screw it. This moment was just too damn good to waste on worries. One damn moment of happiness wasn't too much to ask the universe.

Dax felt an irrepressible surge of energy and he grabbed Jack around the chest and pulled him into a huge bear hug. For about five minutes they just knelt together, silently, on the dusty floor. Rocking together in shared happiness. Almost six years – more than a quarter of their lives – had been building to this moment. It was a hell of a long journey. And now it was over.

Of course every silver lining had to have its cloud. This one lowered down upon them quickly, driving out the heady joy with annoying practical details. Daxter felt chilly and with a stab of embarrassment he realized that some of the things he'd simply taken for granted were going to have to change – like wandering around nude.

"I don't suppose that Light thought to pack me some pants," said Daxter, blinking away absurd tears. He let himself settle into a more comfortable cross-legged position.

Jak coughed out a laugh, and then covered his face with a hand. "Actually – no."

Well that figured.

Six years and Dax hadn't given more than a passing thought to clothes. He'd tried wearing pants for a while, hoping they'd give him some respectability, but the effect was less than stunning. If he was expecting to be treated more like an Elf, it just didn't happen. Silly thought, after all, if intelligent conversation didn't overcome the prejudice, why would he think fashion could do it. Soon he got lazy about washing the pants, and then they got ripped, smeared with metalhead blood, and eventually he just abandoned them again.

No one else cared one way or another. The fur covered his sex, but even if it hadn't, he was just an animal. Even Tess, for all her love, had never showed any curiosity about his ottselly boy bits.

But now his sex lay dangling out in all its elven glory for the world to see – and he damn well better cover it up. Dear Makers. Dating. Marriage. Getting finally laid. It was all wonderfully, deliciously possible again. He was a sexual being again, worthy (he hoped) of a second look. He'd scandalize the town if he walked in nude.

Speaking of town, they'd passed through a small elvish village on the way to the ruins. The selection might suck but there would something there he could wear. "Jak, you better leave me here and go into town. Get some clothes for me."

Jak nodded. "I'll be back quickly." He quickly moved to the door of the room, then suddenly turned around and came back. He pulled one of his guns out and put it on the ground near Dax's feet. "I don't feel any more metal heads, but if you need it…" He headed back out the door before Dax could do more than gape.

And oh, didn't that cloud look pretty dark about now. No metalheads, but that didn't mean no danger. Here he was, sitting around in a Precursor ruin – one chockablock with tech that might or might not go off if Dax touched it, which might even have those evil little yellow orbs in it… and no Jak to protect him. Damn that sucked.

Worse – he was going to have to get down that sixty foot cliff, and not on Jak's shoulder like usual. He wasn't built for falls anymore. He didn't have claws. His perfect balance probably went the way of his fur. Yeah, he'd climbed a lot when he was a kid, and he hadn't been half bad at it, but that was a freaking long time ago. He didn't trust his new muscle arrangement yet. And oh wouldn't it be ironic if Dax broke his neck mere minutes after finally getting his body back.

"Get a rope too!" Dax shouted.

It turned into one of those days where every minute seemed to stretch. The wait for Jak to return lasted eons, during which every distant plop of water, or scritch of an animal sent Dax's heart into triple time and his mind reeling down every bad thing that could possibly happen.

He held the gun in his hand, feeling the unfamiliar heft of it. Sure, there had been a few times in the past he'd pushed his stubby ottsel fingers though the trigger guard – but those had been really bad scary times and he'd done it out of pure desperation. Aiming was a crap shoot, and the kick back tossed him about like a doll.

Another scrabbling sound. Definitely rodent. Could Jak have missed one?

The metalheads would be going after him now. And not just 'cause he smelled like Jak. Like it or not, being an ottsel had a ton of advantages when it came to this line of work – for example, pretty much his entire job was contingent on him being small enough to fit on Jak's shoulder. Feeding ammo without getting in Jak's way. Crawling through holes too small for Jak to get through. Debugging traps Jak's thick fingers couldn't reach.

Anything Dax could do now, Jak could do better. Dax had nothing to bring to the party anymore. Well, I think I just evolved myself out of a job.

Dax wrenched his thoughts away from that direction. It lead down uncomfortable paths, and he was already dealing with as much change as he could handle.

And anyway it didn't matter. The simple truth of it was that he wanted to go home. He wanted to be somewhere safe where he could become reacquainted with himself. And then he didn't want to enter another Precursor ruin for a long, long time. Now that he had his body back, he wanted to protect it, like a new zoomer, and never let it get hurt again. No scratching the paint job before he had a chance to show it off… For whatever time he was allowed to keep it.

Because it just couldn't be this easy. He wasn't meant to have what he wanted. It just wasn't his fate. Somehow, someway, he would lose his body. It would revert. It would turn to goo. It would fall down a chasm, into a pit of black eco, or be taken over by an orb. If the powers that be wanted him to be happy, he'd have been born someone else.

Something clanked behind him, and Dax crouched and aimed. His gun shook for a moment in his hand… then his muscles seemed to loose their rubber and he felt something click inside his gut.

"You know what?" he said to no one. "Fuck fate. This is my life, and for once I'm going to run it my way. I don't have to hang out in no Precursor death traps if I don't want to. It's my choice."

Yeah, that's it. That's the spirit. It seemed like the walls were giving him a bit more respect.

Things were going to have to change. No two ways about it. And the first thing that would have to change was that Dax was going to have to stop letting the world push him around and learn be his own master. He was a goddamn grown-up after all, it was well past time he took responsibility for his own destiny.

Daxter stood up straight and tall and stared at the machinery around him. Daring it to frighten him.

"Screw you, Precursors, I'm not putting up with your games anymore," he scolded echoing ruin. "I'm a man, now, hear? Not anyone's pet."

Dax lowered the weapon. There was nothing to shoot but shadows, and he wasn't chickenshit enough to do that.

"No more mooching off of Jak," Dax vowed, his voice echoing around the circular room. "Hear that, Precursors? I'm going to get my own job, with my own pay. Which is going to go to my own apartment, where me and Tess can finally be a real couple. And you, my dear, long dead friends, are going to finally fuck off and leave me alone."

Yeah, that sounded great. That was exactly what he needed. A healthy, normal life from now on. Sign him up.

And it would be so good for Jak, too. It really would. The dude could finally get a bit of privacy in his life, and Precursors knew he needed it. Jak could bring home his girlfriend-of-the-week, have a nice, normal romantic time, and not have ole Dax being a fifth wheel. After all the good Jak did for the world, he damn well deserved some quality time with the ladies without worrying about his sidekick walking in on him at inopportune moments.

Dax's face reddened at the memory. Memories. That was a little social faux pas that had happened way too often.

Worst part? It didn't faze Jak at all. The guy had no modesty when it came to Dax. It was the girlfriends who always took askance. And Dax, of course, who'd chew Jak out for not warning him and then leap right back out the window. Jak, he'd just shrug it off. He was too big to be embarassed about those kind of things.

Mmm.

Come to think of it, in his own way, Dax had caused just as many problems with Jak's love life, as Jak had with his. Dax knew for a fact that Keira had dumped Jak over him. It was kinda hard to miss his name in the screaming arguments. Ashelin lasted a couple of months, but ultimately she had gotten frustrated by the fact that Jak preferred racing cars with Dax over romantic moonlit walks with her. Dax had known that ditching her was pretty un-cool and had felt guilty about it… but at the same time, hey, cars….

Not that it ultimately mattered. Keira and Ashelin may have thrown up their hands in disgust, but there were plenty less picky fish in the sea. All Jak had to do was smile at a girl and she was his -- for a week or two.

Which was good, because on those occasions (and they were pretty frequent) when Jak wasn't seeing a girl… he took care of his own needs, to put it politely. If anything that was more embarrassing than walking in on him and a girl. Let's just say, there had been a couple of times (four) when Dax'd been sleeping comfy on Jak's chest and been woken by an "earthquake."

Ew. That wasn't right. Privacy was definitely a good idea.

No more Pet Thing. He'd yelled it, but now it was just beginning to sink in. I'm not a pet anymore. I'm not a pet.

What kind of sick idea was that, anyway? Now that he thought about it, his whole relationship with Jak had been downright kinky if you looked at it the right way. He was an elf after all, had been one before he'd turned into an ottsel, was one again now. And he'd spent the last six years being petted and cuddled by his best male friend. Sleeping in his bed. Drinking from his cup. Being hand fed -- in front of their mutual friends, no less.

Er… yeah. Dax made a face. Suddenly he was a lot less eager to see Torn's expression when he saw his new body.

Everything would have to change. Makers, that was a scary thought.

Something, somewhere, fell tinkling and clattering its way from a high spot to a place out of Dax's hearing. Where was Jak? It had to be hours now. The shaft of sunlight had moved significantly across the floor. How hard was it to buy a freaking pair of pants? Oh, please don't let him have fallen off his zoomer and broken his neck.

Dax felt heady with relief moments later when he saw Jak walk through the door again.

I'm not going to complain about how long he took, Dax thought. He bit his tongue for good measure, but then released it to say. "Hey, was there a line?" No, no, that's not what he meant. He meant: "Glad you're back this place is kinda spooky when you're all alone." Did that sound like a complaint? Yeah, it kind of did.

Jak wasn't smiling. Instead he pulled a folded bundle of cloth out of his pack. There were two pieces, a dung brown shirt, and pair of matching trousers. Even laid out on the floor, Dax could tell they were not his size. What the hell? Had Jak mistaken Dax for Mitch or something?

Not in any kind of an accusatory way, Dax lifted up the pants and held them to his hips. Holy crap, he could fit himself and Mitch into these.

Jak shrugged up a shoulder in sheepish apology. "You look bigger than you used to be."

"Not that big." Dax was grumbling again. "Admit it, you just grabbed the first thing you saw, and you didn't even bother to check the size." Was Jak embarrassed to be shopping for clothes for a guy other than himself or something? The dude's sense of macho showed up in the most peculiar places. Dax couldn't understand it. But maybe that was because he himself had been out of the macho circuit so long. He'd have to work on that.

Jak raised both shoulders this time, and awarded Dax with a goofy grin. "I got a belt."

Dax bit back some pretty cutting comments, because he was grateful, damn it. With the cuffs folded over three or four times, and the belt synched in he was able to keep the pants from sliding off his narrow hips. Barely. It would have to do.


You know, it's rather hard to climb your way out of a Precursor ruin with your pants around your ankles. And it didn't help having your best friend roaring his head off about it, either.

"Don't laugh," warned Dax the third time his pants slipped. "You were the one who picked these out." Jak muffled his response behind his forearm.

Dax pulled his pants back up and then chuckled. Okay, he admitted, It is pretty good comedy.

Or rather it was -- right up to the point where those damn pants nearly killed him. Then it got unfunny in a big hurry.

They were almost out of the ruin, just one last itty-bitty pit to cross. More of a crack than anything else. Jak leaped lightly over it without a second thought.

Dax followed, taking one wide step forward, ready to spring. Then at the worst possible moment, the pants slipped past his hips again, falling inconveniently to his knees. Instead of a graceful jump, his front half went forward, while his legs stayed behind. He dropped face first into the hole.

Jak's reflexes kicked in and he grabbed Dax by the scruff of his oversized shirt. Dax's arms stretched out and clawed into the lip of the ravine. Then he felt the pants slip down to his ankles. Quicker than he thought he could, he pulled himself up and out, barely able to hook the pants on his foot before they fell off and were lost forever down a pit that could have been miles deep for all Dax knew.

The whole incident had lasted about two seconds, but in Dax's mind it had gone on for an eon.

Dax lay, naked from the waist down, on the dusty, cold and crumbling floor, breathing hard while his heart attempted to leap out of his rib cage. He kicked the offending pair of pants the rest of the way off and beat his fist against the ground in anger and frustration, while Jak bent over and watched with a bewildered expression on his face, as if the fact that Dax had nearly lost his fucking life were just some ordinary daily activity.

Which, fuck it – it was.

Goddamn it. God Fucking Damn It!

Screw this shit! There was no way he was going back into another Precursor Ruin again. No way. NEVER!

---

A/N: Thank you all! This fic ate my brain for a good long time.

Kaybrianna: Dax is not a happy camper in this fic. I try to treat his situation in a realistic way -- without glossing over the consequences. I find the dynamic that Jak and Dax shared to be enticingly complicated and interdependent, and I tried to write that feeling into the fic.

Robin: The future is complicated. So complicated it took 8 of these sized chapters to work my way through it.

Killerfox: Yeah, this isn't a light happy story. If that's what you are looking for you aren't going to get it. Though honestly, I could have taken it a lot darker than I did.

RHP: Dark and Light are both separate personas -- with their own agendas. Which kind of complicates things. Though this is mostly Dax's story rather than theirs.