Loser

Picking Battles


By the next day, Dax was wondering why the hell he thought doing construction was such a good idea. His body hurt, and with every tile he laid his muscles complained that much louder. And it wasn't even noon yet.

There were other elves at the house now – working on the walls and floor, putting in plumbing. Most were built more along Jak's lines than Dax's, and none of them complained. Dax found himself constantly scanning his coworkers for cues as to how to conduct himself. As of yet, none of them had a clue that he'd been an ottsel for years, and he didn't want to give them any reason to think he was anything other than an ordinary elf.

The foreman's whistle hurt Dax's ears, but it also lifted his heart. Finally, he could take a break and not look like a complete wimp for it. His biceps throbbed in time with his hammering heart, all he wanted was to get to his backpack. He walked down a plank not much wider than his hand, which slanted from the roof he was working on to the gutted second story of the adjacent building. He then took the stairs down to the ground.

He found an elf who had introduced himself as Arne sitting on a pile of boards by Dax's pack, munching on a sandwich. To Dax's consternation, one of the elf's oversized boots was propped up on the pack, using it like some sort of footstool.

"Hey, Arne –"

The bricklayer interrupted him. "You're pretty sure on your feet aren't you."

Dax quirked up an eyebrow. "What do ya mean?" He wanted the guys foot off his pack. The compliment kind of threw him off guard.

"Was watching you working up there, you walk about on those skinny boards like they were the floor. Don't you ever lose your balance?"

"Not really," said Dax feeling more irritated. "Hey, move your leg, I need my pack."

Arne looked down, shrugged and moved his foot. "You look pretty flexible."

What the fuck? "Yeah, thanks."

Shaking his head, Dax reached for his pack. He lifted it with one arm which screamed in protest and threatened to turn to jello, but thankfully didn't while he was within eyesight of Arne. There was something about the guy that was just… annoying. Dax didn't know if it was just some kind of social cluelessness or if the guy was just a being a jackass. He could tell instinctively that the guy would hone in on any weakness Dax showed. Dax would rather not let the bricklayer see him taking the green stuff.

Dax scanned around for a spot where he could get a moment of privacy, and found it in the half destroyed bedroom of the neighboring building. Once he was out of direct eyesight of any of his coworkers he reached down into the bag and found the egg-sized container. He scanned again to make sure that no one was looking, and then, without even completely taking it out of his backpack, he pressed his fingers into the weak part of the packaging, cracking it and releasing its contents.

There was a brief green glow, as the eco spilled out, hovered, then honed in on his skin of his hand. Dax sighed as he felt the cool tingle of the eco penetrating. Pain he hadn't realized he felt eased in his fingers, then swept up his arm with the speed of his heartbeat. In seconds the throbbing eased and his heated muscles seemed to cool and relax. Ahh.

He would have done that hours ago if he'd seen anyone else on the site use eco, but they seemed to grunt and deal with their minor injuries. Dax started to kick himself for being a wimp, but then stopped. You know, he thought. Most the guys here would piss themselves if they faced some of the Precursor death traps I used to deal with. I don't need to hurt to prove my manliness.

His arms were complaining again by the time the foreman's final whistle blew, but not so much as they had before. Dax had figured how much he could lift without straining, and how far he could reach out before his muscles tore. The time had passed rather swiftly, and all in all he couldn't complain. He put the tarp back over the raw planking, made sure the supplies were where they needed to be, and then dropped himself nimbly down to the first floor to join the line of guys waiting to get their day's pay.

"Hey fire-rat, wanna get a beer with us?" Dax turned and saw a bunch of workers clumped together in a way that suggested camaraderie. Dax's tongue tingled with the idea of beer and he felt a warmth in his chest at being included as "one of the guys." It would probably be a good idea to go and be friendly…

But… then again, maybe not.

"Eh, promised I'd meet a girl," said Dax waving them off. "She worries about me when I don't show on time." Other than the gender, it wasn't a lie. The group nodded and turned away heading up the street. Dax turned around and went the opposite direction, feeling mildly guilty about denying Jak's existence to his new mates.

He wasn't sure why he didn't want to own up to Jak. Maybe it was because Jak had such a huge reputation. Everyone knew him, and frankly, he terrified most of them. Sure anyone who actually got to know Jak realized he was really a sweet, soft-hearted dude, but that wasn't the face most people got to meet. They were far more aware of him as the guy who walked through the town, guns blazing, knocking down the Krimson Guard and monsters alike as though they were sticks.

Everyone knew things had been done to Jak that made him not quite Elven anymore – and not just cuz he turned into Dark. Sure, Dark Jak scared the ever-loving shit out the populace, but if anything regular Jak was worse in your average elf's eyes. Regular Jak didn't just randomly destroy things – he logically and thoroughly dismantled them. If there was any hint of a weak spot, he exploited it. He was imaginative and determined and utterly fearless. He couldn't be bribed or threatened and he rarely compromised. Not one, but two administrations had fallen to good ole normal Jak's largely solo efforts.

Even the dullest elf could get the hint -- you just did not oppose Jak if you were fond of your head being attached to your shoulders. Killing Jak was too damn hard, and even exiling Jak, all neat and legal, wasn't a solution. He just came back -- when he felt like it. Armed to the teeth and backed up with a cunning plan.

If anything, the City goers were surprised that Jak hadn't just set himself up as king – he could have, after all. No one would have dared say no to it, and some would probably found it a relief if he had. But politics on the whole didn't interest Jak and he was just as glad there was someone else willing to take on the job. Most of the time he didn't interfere. Most of the time he found a reason to avoid elves altogether.

That's a pretty dark shadow to be stuck behind.

Call it selfishness, but Dax liked the fact that when his mates saw him, they were seeing him, and not "that guy who hangs out with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Fucked-With." He wanted them to like him because he was likable, not because they were afraid of what Jak would do to them if they didn't.

Still, the idea of denying Jak's existence made Dax's guts squirm with uncomfortable guilt. Not many dudes would take care of their friends to the extent Jak had taken care of him. That was more than loyalty or friendship there. That was love. You just didn't treat that kind of thing callously, unless you were a real jerk.

Am I being a real jerk? Dax wondered. I probably am. Fuck.

Sure enough by the time he got home Jak was sitting on the steps waiting for him with sad eyed expectation. Lonely. That's the other side of being He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Fucked-With, you tended to scare off potential buddies. The chicks kinda liked Jak's badboy qualities, but the other guys? Yeah there were a few who wanted to toadie up to him – those Jak put on a show to scare off. Other than that there were a few guys like Torn and Semos who were badass enough in their own right not to be intimidated. But they were always too deep into their own business to really have time to hang.

Up to now, Dax had filled that niche.

"Hey, Jak," Dax called out. "Let's head over to the Naughty Ottsel. I could really use a beer."

"Sure." Jak perked up.


Jak's now familiar worried bellow woke Dax again. He rolled over and wrapped his pillow around his ear, willing it to go away, but of course it didn't. The moaning turned heartbreakingly plaintive, and Dax sighed. This was nuts. It had been four days since his transformation. They both had jobs to do. Jobs that required them being sharp and rested. Surely Jak's subconscious must have figured out by now that Dax wasn't a furry critter that needed accounting for.

Daxter's arms and legs felt like lead weights as he dragged himself across the floor, one palm pressed against his eye socket hard enough to make false patches of light bloom against his closed lid. He nearly tripped on something soft near the door to the single bedroom. Reflexes kicked in and he jumped, landing upright without needing to wave his hands too much for balance. He reached down and picked up a cuddly stuffed ottsel.

Well there was money well spent.

Sighing, Dax looked down at his buddy, framed in the dim light of his open window. Jak lay stretched across the bed, one hand feeling frantically for the ottsel who wasn't there. Who would never be there again. Dax sighed, and came to a decision.

"Move over Jak," said Dax.

"Mmm?" With a slight cough, Jak pulled himself up to a sitting position. "Dax?"

"Skootch," said Dax. "If you can't sleep with me ten feet away, I guess I better get in there with you. I can't have you falling in a pit tomorrow because you are tired."

Dax wasn't sure what he expected Jak to say or do, but he was faintly surprised when Jak quickly moved to make space for him. He could almost feel the relief coming off his partner, as though Jak had been waiting for Dax to do this for some time, but couldn't quite bear to ask.

"Thanks, Dax."

"You know," said Dax. "You can admit you miss me sleeping with you. It's not gay or anything. Well, okay, maybe it is a bit, but I won't tell if you won't."

"You wanted space."

Oh so true. But not at this price. "Eh, I get plenty of space during the day."

Jak didn't say anything to that, and Dax refused to rise to the silent bait. Going back into the Precursor ruins was not currently on the table for negotiation, and he wasn't going to let the big guy guilt him into it. Dax knew full well that Jak couldn't give up his job, but that didn't mean that Dax had to take up, too. Friendship didn't require them to spend their every waking minute together. Dax wasn't going to start up that conversation again. Maybe by spending time with him at night it would make up for the loneliness he must be feeling during the day.

The bed had seemed a lot larger when Dax was an ottsel, but, contrary to his first worry, there was plenty of room for both of them. Dax felt Jak's hand briefly touch his shoulder, and a huff of warm breath across the back of his neck, but otherwise Jak seemed content to keep to his own side. Within minutes Dax had fallen asleep, and when he next woke up it was morning, and Jak had already crawled off the end of the bed and was headed for the bathroom.

Dax sat up and rubbed his face with fingers. So much for losing this bad habit.

The roof was finished that Tuesday and the foreman gave Dax the option of taking a two day break or pushing on immediately at a different work site. Dax didn't hesitate before accepting the next job. It meant saying goodbye to all the guys he knew, but the way this kind of day labor thing worked, he'd probably end up back in their company again sooner or later. The guys on the worksite invited him to have a beer again, and Dax found that it actually hurt to turn them down. But Jak was waiting.

Jak would have probably preferred him to take the couple days off.

But no, it was better to go straight on to the next job. Work was good. Work made him strong, and it made him money, and it bought him self-esteem. When he was at work he was too busy to think about all the shittier parts of his life. Like the fact that his girlfriend and his best buddy were still mad at him for not being the cute furry creature they'd fallen in love with.

Dax shuddered on the walk home to realize that he was actually somewhat dreading going home to Jak. He stopped in his tracks, briefly tuning out the whooshing of late afternoon traffic over his head.

"The thing is," he said to a random pigeon sitting on a twist of rebar. "I miss what we had. It was scary, but it was also fun, and I really felt like I was doing some good most of the time. But I don't want to go back to it. I just feel so goddamn selfish for wanting to do something different." Dax reached into his pocket for some crumbs left over from lunch. He tossed them to the ground beneath the fat pigeon, who fluttered its wings for a moment before lazily hopping down to check it out.

"Dax!"

Daxter turned around and saw Ashelin strolling down the street, in a tight shirt and cammos and enough self-confidence in her swagger to run the city. Since her break up with Jak, she'd been rather scarce, but her name and influence were still plenty strong, and as always she seemed in on everything going down. Still, it took Daxter aback that she actually recognized him. Last time she'd seen him he'd been considerably smaller and a whole hell of a lot more important to her plans.

He painted a smile on his face. "Hey there, gorgeous!" he catcalled out of respect.

Ashelin shook her head and waved off the come on. Which was just as well because Dax wasn't any more interested in her than she was in him. On top of wearing her auburn hair in dreads, which was a style Dax wasn't too fond of, she also had the same bad-ass facial tattooing as Torn, which as far as Dax was concerned was a dating deal breaker. Tattoos on the arms, legs, torso – fine. Scrawling special Precursor symbols across your face in lines an inch thick? U-gly. And painful, too. Makers only knew the agony Ashelin must have gone through to ruin her good looks as thoroughly as she had. One more reason for Dax to stay faaaar away from kooky religions.

"Wasn't sure it was you, but I heard your voice talking to the wildlife and figured 'that's Daxter.'" She smiled with just a trace of condescension. Ah yes, typical Ashelin.

"Yeah well, it's a talent," said Dax. "Speaking critterese is a useful skill. This guy was telling me where all the good seed spots in Haven are." The pigeon obligingly cooed.

Ashelin's brow raised just for a second before she realized he was pulling her leg, then she rolled her eyes.

"So…" said Dax a bit awkwardly. "What's happening on the dune raider front?" Torn had Ashelin and her team hunting down pirates in the desert, trying to get regular trade route between the various city-states open up for the first time in more than half a decade. Important work, far more appreciated by the general populace than anything he and Jak did, and something of a bone of contention between her and Dax. Jak didn't mind the anonymity of metalhead hunting, but Dax had to admit to a bit of jealousy that Ashelin managed to get herself a job that not only made her more fame and money but was a hell of a lot easier. The few times he and Jak had pinch hit for Ashelin were most fun the two ever had on a mission. Sailing over the dunes on a bouncy buggy, chasing down bad guys and running them to ground. Whole lot better than dangling by your claws over a pool of noxious ooze.

Ashelin stiffened a bit. "I've been pulled, or hasn't Jak told you?"

"What?" Dax stared at her tattooed face with puzzlement.

"Torn partnered me with Jak again, I'm just on my way to your place to talk to him about tomorrows mission." She began walking down the narrow street towards Jak and Dax's apartment. Dax fell into step with her.

"So… what? You're my replacement?"

Ashelin lifted her eyebrows, "That's right. At least until you come back to us. What is it you are doing these days? Sewer work?"

Dax wondered if that were some sort of subtle put down. "Roofing."

"Roofing," she repeated. "I knew it had something to do with construction. I don't really understand why you are doing such stupid grunt work, you never struck me as being a coward before."

Dax bristled. "I am not scared." Not that I'll admit to her. He pulled himself to his tallest, which still was quite a bit shorter than Ashelin but he was not going to notice that any more than he was going to notice the scorn in her voice.

"Well then stop shirking and get back on the job. Jak needs you."

"Jak don't need no one, babe. Jak is a force unto himself."

Ashelin sighed and looked put out. "It's not that I don't enjoy Jak's company, but I really have better things to be doing. -- And I see this is just going over your head. You really don't get it."

"What don't I get?" Dax growled. "I think I get perfectly that Jak wants me back on the job, and I told him my reasons why I'm not doing it. It's temporary. I told that to him, and now I'm saying it to you. So what, now he has you pressuring me? Putting the old guilt trip on? Sheesh, couldn't he at least get Torn?"

"Jak did not put me up to this," said Ashelin angrily. "I put myself up to it because I care about Jak. In fact, Jak told both me and Torn to lay off of you. You want to know why? Because he loves you and he doesn't want to pressure you to do what you need to do. What you don't get is just how much he cares about you, how much he's willing to sacrifice for your whims."

Dax stopped in his tracks and waved his hands in front of his face. "Now wait a minute, sister. If you can unplug the pressure cooker for two seconds and step out into the sunshine, I think you and I need to have a talk."

"I thought that's what we were doing."

"No you are haranguing me. Care to hear my side?"

Ashelin put her hands on her hips. "Well."

"I'm sorry if my decision is temporarily inconveniencing you, but I'm doing it for Jak's benefit as much as mine." Ashelin looked highly doubtful. "Look at me," ordered Dax. "Look really hard, what do you see?" This was really painful. The last thing Dax wanted to do was to prove his inadequacy to Ashelin, but damn it, he was strong enough to be a realist even if no one else on Torn's crazy crew were.

Ashelin's eyes flickered to the side then settled on Dax. She made a slow deliberate pass up and down his body. "I see a short Elf, with big teeth and scrawny legs."

"Exactly, I'm an Elf. Not an ottsel. I can't do what I used to do. It's not that I don't want to do the mission, I physically can't. I can't sit on his shoulder. I can't fit into the little crawl spaces where he can't go. I can't reach into the cracks. Give me a few months, I'll shoot a gun or drive a car with the best of them, but I will never be able to fill the role I used to. No one can. I'm in the process of remaking myself into something Jak can use and I'm going as fast as I can. But right now, if I went down into those Precursor pits, I'd just be a huge distraction to Jak."

Ashelin's expression softened. "It's not that I don't agree with you. I can think of a dozen of my men who I'd trust with the job ahead of you."

Oh well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Ashelin.

"—But I'm not the one deciding these things, Jak is. It doesn't matter who goes out on the job with Jak, he's going to do the hard work. What he needs isn't any physical help, he needs emotional reassurance. Company. As far as I'm concerned anyone can fill that bill, but Jak wants you. And without you, he's getting distracted and sloppy, and he's endangering his own life. We can't afford to lose him and I hope you don't want to either. After all the years he dedicated to getting you that body back, the least you could do would be to try and help him out."

Ouch, ouch, ouch! That hit home hard.

"Tell me," said Ashelin. "Did the two of you get into some fight? Isn't there some way you can kiss and make up?"

"No!" said Daxter. "Like I said, there's nothing wrong, except that I'm not ready. I can't get ready any faster. Listen I already promised Jak, and I'm promising you that I'll do the stinking job. I'll do it. Just back off. Give me a couple of weeks." I don't want to go down into Precursor ruins, but now I really am committed, oh thank you Ashelin. Daxter felt a sudden flush of fury. "I mean, can't Torn just put Jak in the desert with you for a few weeks? Last I checked there was no deadline to find Precursor tech."

"The metal heads."

"Can be killed by anyone once they reach the surface. I remember you used to do that job once upon a time."

"I know full well what I can do." Ashelin waved him away and walked ahead. "Never mind, Dax. Far be it from me to try and change your pig headed mind on anything. You are right on one thing, Jak doesn't need you as much as he thinks he does. I can get the job done. You do whatever the hell you want to."

"Well, screw you, too, Ashelin," Dax shouted. He then turned on his heel and headed back to where the guys from the worksite were getting their beer. Dax already knew that Jak didn't need him to do his job. Jak certainly didn't need Dax to be hovering around while he and Ashelin discussed what they were doing. What they both wanted Dax to be doing.

And Dax certainly didn't need that hassle. No, he didn't need it at all.

It was late, too late, past midnight with work to do in the morning and Daxter could barely keep his feet with all the alcohol swirling in his blood. Rain started coming down in a fine mist about five blocks from home, cooling him down, sobering him up. He knew he was in the wrong. He'd really screwed up this time, green eco did dickall for hangovers and he was going to feel this in the morning, but that wasn't even touching on the consequences for the night's drunken irresponsibility.

Ashelin had been in the wrong. She didn't understand the situation half as well as she thought she did, and she had absolutely no right to imply Dax was a selfish idiot who didn't care about Jak.

But then Dax had gone and proved her right. Jak got worried when Dax came late from the work site, he would have gone nuts not knowing where he'd been for the last six hours. But it had felt sooooo good. For a few hours there, when the mad was still burning his chest, he'd felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He'd fought the urge to pick a direction and just go. Just walk out into the desert and leave all this responsibility behind.

But his work mates had one by one left the bar, and the last one clasped his shoulder and told him not to get so drunk he fell off the beam like the last apprentice did. For some reason that had brought him back down to reality again. Being drunk didn't feel fun anymore.

He turned into the narrow alley that lead up to the apartment, and sure enough, there on the steps, his hands cupping his chin, was Jak.

"I'm sorry, Dax," said Jak, his voice so soft that it could barely be heard over the rain. "Ashelin won't pressure you again."

Man, what an asshole I am, Dax thought.

Here's a joke: Loser cries out to the Makers, "What can I do to be a real man, and show I'm responsible and worthy to the world?" And the makers reply, "Give up your autonomy and go back to being a pet."

---

A/N: Sooooo last chapter was a bit rushed. I'm not sure what I can do to improve without adding filler. It was a big day full of lots of changes each propelling the next in a kind of a domino effect. Hopefully this chapter seems a bit more restful.

Everything will eventually resolve, but in the mean time things are a bit uncomfortable for our duo.