All That Glitters

 

AN:  Sorry for the abrupt ending to the last chapter, everyone.  Talk about your plot twists, right?!  But it had to be.  So let’s hurry and get into the next installment, and forget all about that little blip, shall we?

 

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Kuromei:  Haha, I’m glad the humor still makes you smile.  Thanks for the nice comments!

 

Tainted_Emerald:  “Bad grammar?!  Spelling errors?!  Kill it!  Die die die die!!”  *stomps all over it*  I love you for noticing. 

 

Csi Forsythe:  We all know Torn is just there for comic relief.  And we love him for it.

 

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Characters:  Everyone belongs to Naughty Dog.  Even the setting belongs to them, if you cross your eyes and squint a little.

 

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     “Jak!  Jak, stop!  I said hold, soldier!”

     It took the prince a moment to realize that he was indeed being screamed at.  It took him a few more moments to decide how to respond, and in that short amount of time his stunned opponent somehow wound up face down in the dirt of the training field.  Obviously it wasn’t his fault.

     The look on Torn’s face was far from pleased as he jogged over, raising little puffs of dust under his heavy footfalls.  “What the hell was that about?  Jak, I think it’s time for you to take a break.”

     He frowned.  “But—”

     “Break.  Now.”

     Jak huffed but did as he was told.  Stowing his practice sword he meandered off the field, hardly noticing when the crowd of watching soldiers parted around him like a flock of songbirds before a hawk.  It had not, as such, been a good day.  Maybe he could use a little rest in the shade after all.

     Torn joined him before too long, still looking none too thrilled.  Very pointedly the commander dropped down beside Jak under the tented pavilion that had been set up for the officers.  “Alright.  May I ask what’s been going on out there today?”

     “What?”  Jak idly flicked an ear.  “You can’t say I’m not giving any effort for once.  You’ve got to be happy with that change, right?”

     “That makes me very happy.  In fact, I’m ecstatic.  However, I would like to point out that as of now all of the new recruits and a good majority of the seasoned warriors are afraid to spar with you.  Your newfound enthusiasm would be better used raising troop moral instead of making them frightened of their own leader, wouldn’t you agree?”

     Jak shrugged noncommittally.  Torn sighed. 

     “Jak, look.  I know you’re upset.  I personally think you have a right to be—and don’t you dare tell your father I said that.  But we have to look at the bigger picture right now.  Taking out your anger on the subordinates isn’t the way to handle the situation.  I hear you punched one of the servants this morning?”

     The green-blonde had to smirk at the memory.  Pure coincidence had seen him walking to breakfast down the same corridor as a group of the palace staff, one of them bragging loudly to the rest how he had “showed that little redheaded bastard who’s boss” the night before.  Daxter’s goggles had been perched on the filthy man’s head.  Jak still considered the entirely satisfying crunch of his fist meeting a gaping face to have been the highlight of his day.  He lightly fingered the worn goggles now hanging by their straps from his belt, half listening to Torn’s raspy but somehow soothing voice.

     “… so, do you think you can do that?”

     “Huh?”

     Torn sighed deeply.  “I asked you if you could keep your mind on the situation at hand.  But judging by your response, I think it would be better if you took a little time out.  You’re officially in charge of going to tell the servants to bring out water for the troops.  Get moving, soldier.” 

     It didn’t take long at all for Jak to do as he was told.  Life really was much simpler when he followed orders without a fight, though he would never admit as much out loud.  When his errand had been run, however, the prince didn’t quite know what to do with himself. 

     I doubt Torn wants me back on the field, he thought as he wandered along the wall top.  Maybe I should have taken it a little easier on the troops.  Not all of them are jerks, I guess.  Even if I didn’t really mean to sprain that guy’s wrist that’s still one more soldier we won’t have in top condition now…

     As he considered, Jak looked over the ledge and down into the gardens.  He scanned the lush expanse in vain.  Not a sign of orange fur was forthcoming.  Not that he knew what he would be able to do even if he did spot the odd little creature that had been his friend.  There were strange, strange powers at work in the world—unless you were trained to handle the challenge, as sages like Samos were, messing with them was generally a bad idea.  There was no guarantee he would be able to do anything to change Daxter back without possibly making the problem even worse, and he doubted very much that Samos would be of any help.  And that was all supposing that the little animal hadn’t been scampering around willy-nilly in his unexpected freedom and been picked off by a hawk already.  

     Jak groaned softly, letting his arms cross over the top of the wall stone and his forehead rest on them.  He really didn’t need that mental image pecking at his conscience.  “This has got to be the weirdest day of my life.”

     “You’re telling me.”

     Jak’s head snapped up.  “Keira!”

     “You were perhaps expecting someone else?”  She moseyed up to lean beside him, glancing out over the cityscape of Spargus beyond the palace complex.  Hot wind ruffled her blue-green hair and made her squint against the bright sun.  “I’ve been looking for you all morning, ‘great warrior prince.’  Been up to no good, as usual?”

     “Something like that.”  Jak couldn’t help but notice that his friend looked tired.  “What’s the word?”

     Knowing exactly what he was referring to, Keira cut to the chase.  “I snuck down to the city last night.  Erol was still there.”

     “Did he tell you anything else about Praxis’ army?”

     “Yeah.  Quite a bit, actually.”  She sighed.  It was somehow bitter, to Jak’s infinite surprise.  “Turns out he’s their general.”

     “What?!”  Despite everything else on his mind at the moment, Jak’s first reaction was one of military strategy.  “The enemy army’s general is inside the city?”

     “Was, until late last night.  It’s not like there was anything I could do to stop him from leaving, even when I did find out how dangerous he was.”  Keira shrugged moodily.  “He came in with the traders to scout things out for himself.  Formulate battle plans.  You understand.”

     “Smart bastard.”  Jak began to pace.  From what Damas had said, Praxis’ head general was unbelievably sly.  What kind of damage would he be able to do if he had already seen inside their defenses?  “Remind me to fire the guards at the main gate.”

     “It’s not their fault, Jak.  Strangers come in and out of the city all the time.  Wastelanders, even the less violent marauders, occasionally.  If we’d known sooner that there was a threat of invasion the traders market never would have been allowed to happen.”

     Jak sighed deeply.  Despite his frustration, he knew she was right.  They had been spoiled with a longer-than-average span of relative peace; they had let their guard down.  No use punishing the sentries now.  “Alright.  What’s done is done.  Now we’ve got to make sure that it doesn’t happen again.  The city has to go on lockdown, right now.  Most likely we’ll be facing a siege.”

     Keira nodded and fished a small piece of parchment paper from her belt pouch.  “I wrote down everything I can remember that Erol told me about the Haven troops.  I don’t think he figured out that I’m connected to you and King Damas, so everything he said should be the truth.  I made like I was a stranger here and was impressed that he would be brave enough to command a hostile takeover of the place.”

     Jak couldn’t help but grin.  “So he bragged for the hot Wastelander girl.  You’re pretty amazing, Keira.”

     “I’ll give this to Torn.  I’m sure you and he will want to go over it with the king tonight.”  Waving off the compliment, Keira turned to go.  Only a few steps away, though, she paused.  “Ha.  You know what’s really amazing, Jak?”

     “What’s that?”

     “My luck.  My first crush since I was ten years old, and he has to be one of the bad guys.”

     Jak froze.  Oh.  Oh, that really wasn’t fortunate at all.  Shaking off the blank stare he knew he was sporting, he quickly moved behind her to lay a hand on her shoulder.  Even if it would never work out, he didn’t want his friend to be upset.  “Keira, hey, I’m sorry…”

     She looked uncomfortable.  “Well, I mean, not that it really matters.  You and I will be together someday, after all.  I don’t know why I even mentioned it.”

     “No, don’t think like that,” Jak said firmly.  He gave the petite shoulder still in his grasp a little shake.  “You are allowed to like other people.  Just because our parents say we’re going to be together, just because it makes sense politically, that doesn’t mean you don’t get to choose who you love.”  He thought for a moment.  “Even though I might have to kill this guy on the battlefield.  Sorry in advance, if that happens.”

     After a moment of startled silence, Keira had to laugh.  “Well, in that case I think I can forgive you in advance, if that happens.  Just barely.”  She turned to give him a brief hug, still smiling.  “You know, I think I like what that slave kid did to you.”

     At the mention of Daxter Jak balked, tried his best to muffle a groan of ironic unhappiness and failed.  Keira picked up on it immediately.  Damn it.

     “Jak…  Jak, listen.  I know he’s run off again.”

     “Yeah.  I told him to get lost.”

     “Good for you.  I know you just want what’s best for him.”  Reaching up, Keira affectionately straightened his headscarf.  “And you did exactly the right thing.  I wasn’t going to tell you this, but… since he’s already gone I think it’ll make you feel better.”  She looked away, obviously bothered.  “Your father and Daddy decided that it was okay to get rid of him.  I heard them talking about it after breakfast.  They were going to make sure he got sent away with someone at the end of the traders market this evening.”

     As her soft words sank in Jak began to feel genuinely sick.  This was his little friend they were talking about, not some inanimate item that could be bought, sold, or bartered!  He pulled Keira back into his arms for a tighter, grateful squeeze.  “Thanks.  Thanks for telling me.  That won’t happen now.  They won’t be able to find him this time.”  Maybe what had seemed like a horrible accident of hostile magic might not be so bad after all, considering the alternative.  At least now Daxter would be unrecognizable to anyone who might wish to do him harm.

     “I’m glad.  I know he means a lot to you.  And who knows—maybe you’ll get him back someday.”

     If the boy-turned-animal in question wasn’t already fuzzy scavenger bait in the desert sands or a Spargus back alley by now.  Feeling utterly helpless for the second time in twenty four hours, Jak forced himself to let go of Keira.  She had her own business to attend to.  “I should let you get going and talk to Torn.  Thanks again, Keira.  You really stuck your neck out this time.”

     “Aw, not at all.  Nothing any red-blooded Spargian woman wouldn’t do for prince and country.”  Making a show of flexing subtle arm muscles she chuckled, gave him a wink, and finally turned away.  Jak noted a little spring in her step that hadn’t been there before.  She was feeling better, then.  Good.

     Noise from the training ground below slowly brought Jak out of the tiny private world he and Keira had been tucked away in.  He should get back down there, and really try to be more mindful of the physical well-being of his companions while he was at it.  More hard training and shows of confidence for the Spargus forces would probably do more to keep his mind off his personal troubles than anything Jak could dream up to occupy himself.

     Wherever he went and whatever he looks like, the prince thought morosely as he gave a final glance at the mountains in the distance and descended from the wall top once more, just please let Daxter be alright.

 

- // - // - // - // -

 

     Jak was entirely right when he assumed that the day’s training would keep him occupied.  It was much later that evening when he trudged up the stairs to his rooms, dog tired and dirty. 

     Fighting is highly overrated, he mentally groused with laid back ears. 

     The conference of war that had been called among Torn, Damas, Samos, Keira, the top officers, and himself had taken two hours just on its own.  Strategies had to be hashed out.  Battle plans had to be dreamed up.  And things hadn’t been pretty when Samos had finally learned where the coveted secret information had come from.  At that point the green-blonde had prudently excused himself to wash up for the late dinner about to be set on the board for them.

     No one had touched his room all day.  The bed remained unmade, the curtains and washroom door stood open, the dented brass urn lay on its side in the middle of a mess of pebbles just inside the door.  It was possible word had gotten around, and now the servants were too afraid of bodily injury to venture into his domain to clean.  Jak felt a sort of gleefully evil satisfaction in the idea.  Jak Mar was not to be messed with, and that went double for those under his protection.  They deserved being frightened out of their wits for what they had done to his little friend.

     Jak sighed deeply.  It all kept looping around to Daxter.  All day long, every little thing had reminded him of the redhead and the mind-boggling way they had parted that morning, perhaps for the last time. 

     I have to stop thinking about it.  About him.  For my kingdom’s sake I have to focus!  I’ve got to believe that Dax is safe somewhere.  And, you never know.  He may not want my help at all.  He might be okay with being a weasel, if it keeps him out of being a slave. 

     Yeah, sure.  He could justify his reckless disobedience of a wise old sage’s explicit orders all day long and still never really know if Daxter hated him for what he had accidentally done.  Grabbing frustrated double handfuls of his short hair Jak fell backwards onto the bed without bothering to take off his dusty boots first.  The low mattress squeaked in protest.  And that wasn’t all that squeaked.

     “Hey!  Watch what yer doin’ up there!”

     With a warrior’s reflexes Jak bolted upright and leapt from the bed, hand automatically falling to the side of his belt—exactly where the sheath of his sword was not at the moment.  He had given it to one of the attendants downstairs, curse his luck.  Grabbing a candlestick off the bedside table instead, Jak brandished it boldly as he glared suspiciously around the seemingly empty room.

     “Who’s there?  Show yourself!”

     The voice that answered back was positively grumpy.  “Okay, okay, sheesh!  Guy can’t catch a wink ‘round here without bein’ squashed by big heavy lugs an’ then gettin’ yelled at for it.” 

     Out from under the bed squirmed a long, lithe, orange form.  It paused on the rug to rub halfheartedly at its face and eyes, indeed looking as if it had just been rudely awoken from a peaceful snooze.  Jak nearly dropped his candlestick. 

     “Daxter?!”

     There was a huge yawn that showed slightly pointed little canines, perfectly white.  “The one an’ only.  And I was havin’ a really great nap, too.  Been waitin’ for ya most of the day.”  Noticing the prince’s bewildered stare, an orange head tilted slightly.  Long ears flicked in puzzlement.  “What?”

     Where to begin?  “Dax, you’re… you’re tiny!  And furry!  And you can talk!”

     “Yeah, I know.  Ain’t it great?”  Looking quite content with the development Daxter smoothed down the yellow fur of his belly.  Noticing his tail give a slight wag, he grabbed it up and squeezed it happily to his chest.  “I really missed this thing.”

     There were mystic forces at work in the world that most mortals could barely comprehend.  Sometimes these forces reared their heads in bad occurrences, and sometimes in good.  Apparently this was one of the rarer good times.  Almost as relieved as he was stunned, Jak slowly dropped to his knees on the rug beside the altered form of his friend.  The candlestick clanged sharply as it dropped to the stone floor.  “Then you’re not mad at me for turning you into a weasel?”

     Daxter bristled.  “Let’s get one thing straight right off the bat, pal.  I ain’t no weasel!  I am an OTTsel, thank you very much.  And I happened to look like this for quite a long time before I had the bad luck to run into that dirty, rotten, lousy, no-good, no-talent, stuck-up, self-righteous, bug-eyed, flop-eared, log-wearin’—!”

     Jak watched the sudden fit silently, kneeling there on the carpet beside an irate ottsel that was violently stomping, cursing, and throwing inappropriate hand gestures.  Ottsel.  He had never seen or heard of such a creature before.  Most animals he knew of didn’t walk on their back legs, or have perfectly distinctive little hands in place of front paws, or have such brilliantly colored fur that would stick out like a sore thumb in the drab desert landscape.  Or throw verbal tantrums.

     But what did that matter?  Daxter was alright, even if he did look vastly different than before.  Jak hadn’t made a mistake when he took the collar off, after all.  He had done nothing wrong.  And Daxter had come back to him, for whatever reason, instead of bolting off into the wild blue without a backward glance.  Despite the strangeness of the circumstances, a little spark of happiness began to glow.

     Slowly the green-blonde raised a hand and carefully, so carefully, touched his fingertips to Daxter’s furry shoulder.  “Is this really what you used to look like before you came here?”

     Dax stopped mid rant, ears going up in surprise.  “Uh.  Yeah.  Eh-heh, sorry.  Got a little carried away, there.”  Visibly the former slave made an effort to compose himself with deep breaths and smoothing raised hackles.  “This is what I am for real.  What I was quite happy bein’, until yer moronic ‘Court Sage’ happened to catch me with my guard down.  Jak, please, when yer the king, get rid’a that bozo!”         

     The prince laughed weakly.  That didn’t explain everything, not by a long shot, but it would do for now.  He could find out more later.  Right now he was just happy to finally hear his friend say his name, now that he knew it was indeed possible.  Lightly he began to scratch under Daxter’s chin.

     “And you could talk before, too?”

     “Mmm-hm.”  Coherent speech seemed impossible.  Dax looked like he was in heaven as Jak scratched, ears flitting back in enjoyment and eyes falling to half mast.  Well, at least now behavior that had seemed odd in a human made perfect sense.

     “I’ve not seen a talking animal in years.  So it was the collar that kept you from speaking?”

     “Yeah.”  With a last blissful sigh, Daxter finally eased away from the scratching.  Jak was a little sad at the loss of contact.  “That damn thing put a huuuuge damper on my life.  Couldn’t talk, couldn’t change back, couldn’t do—anything, really.”  The prince was gifted with a grateful little grin.  “I really do owe ya fer gettin’ me out’a that mess, buddy.  Even if it did take a few years to convince ya to do it.”

     “Um… don’t mention it.”

     Jak closely considered the happy face regarding him so earnestly.  Yep, that was Daxter, without a doubt.  He had the same expressive eyes, ears, smile, body language.  After that epiphany the grab was totally reflexive.  Daxter squealed in surprise as he was lifted from the floor and hugged firmly to Jak’s dusty chest. 

     “Hey, hey, hey, hey!  Watch the fur, sweetheart!  Static in the desert is hell!”

     “Sorry.”  With one more squeeze for good measure Jak forced himself to put his friend down.  “I just… thought I might never see you again.  I was worried.  I’m glad you decided to come back, Dax.”

     “Yeah, well.”  The ottsel shrugged uncomfortably and suddenly became very interested in the pattern on the rug.  “It’s not like I got anythin’ better to do at the moment.”  Then his roving eyes landed on Jak’s belt, and lit up.  “Hey!  You found my gear!”

     “Huh?”

     Before Jak could ask, eager fingers were scrabbling at the goggles secured to his belt.  Oh, of course.  He sat back so the straps could be worked loose a bit easier.  Daxter’s eagerness surprised him.  It wouldn’t have occurred to him that Dax would even want the goggles back.  He would have thought they would be just one more reminder of bondage, but apparently that wasn’t so.

     Looking inordinately pleased, Daxter restored the headgear to its rightful place. Surprisingly, it didn’t look any sillier on him now than it had when he was human.  “Where’d ya find ‘em, big guy?”

     “The servants who messed with you last night had them.”  Last night.  It seemed like so much longer ago than that.  “Hey.  Since when am I ‘big guy’?”

     Daxter grinned cheekily.  “Since about two weeks after I got drug into this hellhole kickin’ and tryin’ to scream.  You were the only one who was even a little bit nice to me.”  The grin turned into a mellower, somehow more affectionate smile.  “I just knew you were the only nice guy in a joint full’a assholes.  Glad ya proved it.”

     Jak smiled back.  His hand was drifting out again, the ottsel was inching closer to it with an accommodating look in his eye, when—the door was literally slammed open.  Jak jumped a mile and Daxter disappeared, quick as a flash, under the bed.

     “I am literally begging you, Jak, come down to dinner with me and run damage control so I don’t lose it and murder that man!”  Keira was seething.  Still worked up from the argument with Samos that Jak could only assume has escalated after he had left, she was now too angry to notice her friend sitting on the rug in the middle of a very messy bedchamber.  “I swear, from the way my father carries on you’d think I was still in diapers!  The nerve of that guy…”

     “Uh, yeah!  Sure, Keira, I’m coming.” 

     It didn’t matter that he hadn’t had a chance to wash up yet.  No one would notice.  The sooner he got downstairs and made a token appearance at the table the sooner he could retire for the evening and ask Daxter some of the many questions that were already itching to be answered.  With one lingering look to the still-swaying bed hangings Jak surged to his feet and darted into the washroom for a quick brush up and face wash.  Keira stalked around the room like a ruffled lioness, muttering angrily to herself as Jak sloshed water and threw rumpled towels.

     “Okay, I’m ready.  Sorry about that.”

     “Finally.  Let’s get this over with.  If I look like I’m about to start pulling my hair out or lunge across the table you have to hold me down, okay?”

     “Right.” 

     With exaggerated politeness Jak held the door open for his friend, who stomped through without acknowledging the gesture.  Before he closed it fully, though, he chanced a look back into the room.  Daxter was peeking out from under the bed.  Catching sight of the prince’s gaze, he perked up and flashed the hand signal Jak had come to understand as “fruit!”  Jak slowly smiled back, and nodded minutely.  He got it. 

     Despite Keira’s grousing, walking down to dinner was a happier affair with a heartfelt thumbs up and a fuzzy grin held firmly in his mind.  He only hoped there was plenty of fruit to choose from at the table.

 

-//-//-//-//-

 

     “Mmm.  Nice haul, big guy!”

     Jak watched, incredibly amused, as the fruit he had smuggled back upstairs in his napkin was inhaled with alarming speed.  That Daxter hadn’t eaten that day was obvious.  He had juice stains and pulp in the yellow fuzz all around his mouth, and was still smacking loudly away at what little was left.

     “Don’t forget there’s some bread there, too.  That’ll help fill you up.”

     “Yeah, yeah.  I’m getting to the bread.”

     Jak watched, almost fascinated.  The mixture of cognizant animal and the human boy he was used to was incredible—especially with how cutely he was eating.  Draped across his bed with his chin propped on crossed arms, the green-blonde observed his smaller friend closely.  He had always rather liked animals, but besides the leaper lizards and the occasional crocadog kept by the gate sentries as an extra precaution Spargus as a whole had no use for frivolous pets.  He wondered if he could persuade Daxter to sit on his lap now.  It would be in a different context, sure, but he was willing to bet it would be enjoyable nonetheless.

     Eventually Daxter noticed the close scrutiny.  He eyed Jak warily, licking the last of the fruit juice off his fingers.  “Don’t get any funny ideas, pal.  I wasn’t yer pet before and I ain’t gonna be yer pet now.”

     Jak jolted somewhat guiltily.  “Yeah, I know.  Sorry for staring.” 

     “S’okay.  Long as we’re on the same page with that.”  Looking more reassured, Daxter quickly wolfed down the thick slice of buttered bread that had been set aside.  Then, licking crumbs from almost invisible whiskers, he unexpectedly hopped up on the bed beside Jak.  “I tell ya what, this has been some kind’a day.”

     “Yeah.  Yeah, it has.”

     Jak rolled over slightly to accommodate the extra presence of the ottsel.  He could hardly believe it, but it almost seemed like Daxter was saying he was going to be spending another night in the prince’s company. 

     “So, Jak.  How’s preppin’ to get smashed by that bad guy’s army goin’ for ya?”

     Blunt little hairball, Jak thought.  “It’s going just fine, thanks.  We can handle it.”      

     Sitting up, Jak came almost nose to nose with the ottsel, who seemed to be getting comfortable on the pillow he had liked so much the night before.  But it was probably better not think of what else had happened last night.  Little animals, even talking ones, were not to be seen as acceptable bed partners in that particular fashion.  For the first time, the thought made Jak feel a little moody.  He tried to push it firmly away.  He had his friend back in one piece.  No matter what that piece looked like, and no matter what restrictions it dropped on their formerly budding romantic relationship, he would be content with it.  As content as he was able, anyway.

     “Dax, can I ask you something?”

     “Sure,” came the casual answer.  “I’m all ears.  Fire away.”

     Excellent.  He had a mental list ready, in fact.  “Where did you go this morning?”

     “Around.”

     Jak blinked.  The instantly offered reply was rather vague.  “Uh… okay.  How did you get down off the balcony so fast?  I ran over there and didn’t even see you in the gardens.  That’s too high for a human to jump from, let alone someone your size.” 

     “I have my subtle ways.”  Daxter smirked smugly, kicking the pillow into shape.  He seemed bent on keeping mum, for whatever reason.  But there was no good reason, not that the prince could see. 

     “Unless you can suddenly sprout wings on that little weasel back of yours, then I’m stumped.”  Jak couldn’t help but laugh.  He might not be getting any answers, but Dax’s cheeky personality was sure shining through.  “Come on, you can tell me.  Is it some closely guarded ottsel secret?”

     “You might say that.” 

     Jak poked playfully under tiny ribs and tickled with the tip of one finger, reducing Dax to doubling over in a sudden fit of giggles.  He was still ticklish, even when furry.  Good.  “Just spill the beans, Dax.  I won’t tell anybody.  Can you use some kind of magic?”

     Daxter feigned complete ignorance and skirted the issue neatly, bounding away from Jak’s tickling touches.  “Jeez, would ya look at the time?  I think somebody ought’a be gettin’ some sleep fer that big battle tomorrow!  Go on and brush yer teeth fer bed, you naughty boy.”

     “So that’s how you’re going to play, huh?”  Jak cracked his knuckles threateningly, but couldn’t hide a smirk.  “Well, I have ways of making you talk.”

     “No, no, no, no, no—!”  Daxter yelped and jumped for it as Jak lunged. 

     The chase that followed decimated what was left of the large bed.  Sheets and blankets slid from their places as the green-blonde scrambled for his quarry, who was now small enough to easily slip among the covers like an eel.  Pillows flew.  The curtains came loose at their moorings and fluttered around one side of the bedstead.  Finally Jak succeeded in a mid-air catch when the ottsel tried to leap to the freedom of the nightstand.

     “Gotcha!”  He flipped the loudly protesting creature over easily.  After only a moment’s struggle Daxter went limp, upside down in his friend’s arms.  He was panting slightly for breath, but grinning just the same.

     “Okay.  Okay.  I give.  You win.”

     “A wise choice.”  Gently Jak allowed himself to pet the soft fur under his hand.  Daxter’s tail twitched contentedly, draped over the crook of his elbow.  “Dax?”

     “Hmm?”

     “Why did you come back?”

     The former slave shrugged as well as he was able from his languid, upside-down position.  Was it Jak’s imagination, or did he look almost embarrassed?  “Well, somebody’s gotta keep an eye on ya.”

     “Right. Of course.”

     With a fond sigh Jak set Daxter back on the bed and began to clean it up.  He would have demanded help from the other guilty party, if only said party wasn’t too small to do anything but drag the pillows back where they belonged.  The covers were entirely up to him.  It took several minutes for the bed to be made presentable again, during which time Jak unexpectedly turned up Daxter’s discarded slave collar that had been forgotten among the tangled bedding that morning.  Noting the ottsel’s sour glare he prudently tossed it away.  Out of sight, out of mind.  As he had expected, Dax immediately loosened up.

     “You turnin’ in already, then?”

     “Yeah, I’m going to get cleaned up for real and get some sleep while I can.  Apparently wars are notorious for sleep deprivation.”

     “Aw, but that’s no fun!”

     “Excuse me?  You just said yourself I should get some rest.”

     Jak shifted through his furniture chests for cleaner clothes, not missing the little snort behind him.  This was better than he ever could have imagined, finally hearing Daxter banter back and forth with him like this.  It was almost worth the sacrifice of their hard won physical intimacy.  It really was a pity he couldn’t have both at the same time… but that really might have been flipping off fate, in asking for more than the good luck he had already gotten.

     “Hey, Jak?  I got a better idea fer what we can do.”

     “Oh, really.”  The prince dug deeper into a drawer in search of a favorite tunic for bed.  “What might that be?”

     “Let’s try that sex thing again.”

     He almost burst out laughing.  Almost.  Would have, if he didn’t think it would have hurt Daxter’s feelings.  Trying to keep his shoulders from shaking too much, Jak quickly calmed his silent attack of mirth.  Whoa.  His eyes were watering with suppressed laughter.  Subtly he wiped the moisture away.  It wouldn’t do for Dax to think that Jak cared about him any less in what was apparently his natural state—that wasn’t true at all.  But there were plenty of other reasons that a cross-species barrier might be hard to surmount romantically.  Best to let the little guy down gently.  He cleared his throat with some difficulty.

     “Uh… I don’t think that would work out so well now, Dax.”

     “Why not?”

     He couldn’t wipe the amused grin off his face.  The grain in the lid of the wooden clothing chest seemed like a safe, humorless detail to fix his eyes on while he schooled his features neutral.  “Well, for one thing, I’m a lot bigger than you now.  Your body’s a lot different than you were last night.  You might get hurt.” 

     “Pssh.  What, is that all?”

     “Pretty much, yeah.”  It wasn’t that sex with an ottsel would be wrong, per se, since the furball in question was sentient, intelligent, and obviously willing.  But shed fur would be bound to get into some pretty interesting places, and… this was neither the time nor the place to begin a discussion like that.  “Stuff like that really works out better when you’re roughly the same as your partner.”

     “Oh.  Well, in that case…”

     Jak gathered his clean garments with a last affectionate chuckle.  If he had thought it was impossible to be bored around Daxter before, he couldn’t wait to find out how often he would have occasion to laugh around him now.  He turned around—and immediately dropped his bundle of clothes with a startled jolt.

     Upside down, smirking coyly at him and crooking a finger in an obvious “come hither,” was Daxter.  Human once more, and completely naked. 

 

- // - // - // - // -

 

To be continued…

 

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

(2^nd)AN:  Uh-oh.  Looks like Jak’s troubles are far from over, with an enemy force massing just outside the palace walls and a teasing shape-shifter in his bed who seems to raise more mysteries than answers.  What’s a prince to do?!

 

Outtakes!

 

- - - - -

 

Torn: Jak?  Jak!  JAK MAR—pay attention, dammit!

 

Jak: Hmm?  *clueless*

 

Torn: (aside) The future of this city hinges on a moping, lovesick space cadet. We’re doomed.

 

Jak: You shouldn’t mumble, Torn. Good leaders practice clear communication.

 

Torn: If I put in my resume to Praxis’ team, would that be considered blatant treason, or a proactive move toward curing my constant tension headaches…?

 

- - - - -

 

Keira: What the heck is this? The minute I move on and get a new love interest, your redheaded bed boy runs away!

 

Jak: That’s life, I guess.

 

Keira: The hell it is, bub!  Don’t think I’m coming back to you. No I’m not. *snub!*

 

Jak: (sigh) It’s official. Some deity somewhere hates my guts.

 

- - - - -

 

Jak: (overjoyed) Daxter!  You came back!

 

Ottsel Dax: Yes, Jak! I care about you too much to stay away, and I—

 

Jak: Wait a second. You’re a weasel. I can’t screw a weasel! What gives?!

 

Ottsel Dax: I ought’a bite you.  I ought’a bite you so hard…

 

- - - - -

 

Jak: Daxter! You came back!  *opens arms for a hug*

 

Dax: You bet I did, buster. *runs past Jak and dives on the pillow* Baby, I missed you!

 

Jak:  … Princes don’t cry.  Princes don’t cry!  *cries*

    

- - - - -