After Friendship

I’m back again, sorry for the wait, but work is keeping me very busy. Thank you for the reviews, it’s always appreciated. :)

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Ringmaster: Sorry for the wait but here it is, at least it’s a bit longer. :)
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random hyper person: I’m glad you liked the last chapter, although I tortured you with an evil cliffhanger. ;) I hope you’ll like this chapter too even though it sadly doesn’t have any cute Jak and Daxter interactions. But we will have more of those in the next chapter, and they are getting very close to the “real action” now so don’t worry.
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Sej: I know, aren’t I just a big horrible mood killer? Plus, I’m mean to poor Daxie in this chapter, I must be a horrible person. Please don’t hate me. blinks innocently XD
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AlphaOmegaPsi: Yes, who knew gun practice could be so sexy, lol. Those two can make anything sexy, I guess. XD
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He was lost.

It was getting dark, and he was lost in Haven City. That was not a good thing. That really wasn’t a good thing at all.

Daxter hadn’t gone to the bar. Actually he hadn’t planned to go there in the first place. He just needed to get away, to think, and clear his head. The Naughty Ottsel wasn’t exactly the right place for that sort of thing, but it had been a good excuse. So instead he had ended up walking the buzzing streets of Haven City. Walking was a good way to clear your head, or at least so he had heard. Daxter wasn’t so sure it had actually worked, because he still felt just as confused, if not more.

By now the streets were almost deserted, people knew to stay at home after dark. Daxter knew that too, he just wished he knew were home was. Actually, any kind of familiar place would be a welcome sight right now.

He thought he had seen most parts of the city but the streets he walked now were completely alien to him, and he was seriously starting to regret that he had never paid more attention to their surroundings when riding on Jak’s shoulder.

Jak, lets talk about Jak for a moment. The person who had completely occupied his brain the last few hours to the point that he had no idea of where he was at the moment. Which made him end up in strange neighbourhoods far away from the headquarters. His supposed best friend who had kissed him.

And the scariest part about it was that he had liked it, a lot.

How was he supposed to react to that?

Though, it didn’t matter right now. He had other things to deal with; it was getting dark and he needed to find his way back to headquarters. He determinedly pushed any thoughts of Jak to the back of his head.

The streets weren’t completely empty, but those who still were out weren’t exactly anyone Daxter wanted to approach. He did his best to keep his distance from them actually. He had already made a couple of quick detours when spotting Krimzon Guards, you could never be too careful after all. But it wasn’t just Krimzon Guards that you would rather avoid making acquaintance with. Just a few minutes ago a group of bulky men that had been staring at him creepily had made him hasten his steps.

Yeah, so maybe you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but the people Daxter had passed by so far made him want to keep a safe distance of at least twenty feet instead of asking for directions. He didn’t really see the point of doing it either, it’s not like he could ask for the direction of the Underground’s secret headquarters anyway. But still, he was getting desperate. If he could just find someone with a friendly face, maybe he could get some information on where the hell he was. But on the other hand, did anyone have a friendly face in Haven City?

So to say that he was becoming a bit anxious was an understatement. His only comfort was the gun he still had tucked down in the waistline of his trousers. A gun he still barely knew how to use. It pushed uncomfortably into the small of his back, but he was glad that it gave him some resemblance of reassurance. He could always scare people off with just the sight of it, he didn’t have to actually use it.

But still he wished for about the hundredth time that Jak was there, which was ironic since he was the reason why he had run away in the first place and ended up in this mess. But the more he had walked the less he could see the reason why he fled. What must Jak think? First they kiss, and then the first thing he does is run out of there. Daxter couldn’t really explain it himself, he just needed to get away, to think. Damn, Jak was really messin’ with his head.

The kiss had been good, really good, not that he had anything to compare with, but still. So wouldn’t the logical thing to do have been to stick around, and demand another one?

‘But no, instead I have to go and get lost in Haven City. Real good decision, Daxter.’

But in his defence, how was he supposed to act logical in a situation which had no logic? Jak shouldn’t be kissing him in the first place! The whole thing was just so confusing, it was no wonder he had to get away for awhile.

Jak was probably pretty worried by now. The big guy could be such a mother hen sometimes, he must be wondering where Daxter was. Well, he was wondering the exact same question. His feet hurt, he was hungry and tired. It was starting to get cold, too. All he wanted was to get back home, get something to eat, and crawl into bed.

He had to be getting closer soon though, he was sure he was walking in the right direction. Well he was pretty sure at least. A few blocks ago he had walked by an old run down shop they visited once, to get Jak a new pair of gloves.

‘That had been pretty close to headquarters, right?’

He cursed when he realized that he had once again ended up in another dead end. He hadn’t grasped just how many of those there were in Haven City. Probably because Jak knew how to avoid them. This must be his fourth just that night.

He kicked an old can in frustration; it rolled away with an audible crash that echoed loudly in the silent alleyway. It was a long narrow street, and it shut out most of the city lights from the main road so it wasn’t much of a surprise when Daxter’s boots suddenly ended up in something slimy on the ground that he had failed to notice in the dim light.

“Damnit, that’s just what I needed,” he muttered while he tried to shake the smelly thing off his boot. He really didn’t want to know what it was.

However, he froze when he heard steps behind him. With his foot still raised in the air he started to turn around, but just then a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. With his breath caught in his throat he spun around fully to face the owner of the offending hand.

It was a man, a pretty damn big man too, probably a bit taller than Jak even. However he wasn’t as broad over the shoulders—he actually looked a bit underfed, but who wasn’t in this city? He couldn’t see clearly in the dim light, but his shaggy hair looked dark, maybe dark brown. His narrow eyes looked to be of the same colour, but it was hard to tell. Judging by his clothing he wasn’t a Krimzon Guard at least, that was a relief. But Daxter knew that it wasn’t just Krimzon Guards you should look out for in Haven City. And the man didn’t exactly have what he would call a reassuring look; first of all he was touching him, why was he touching him?! Second of all he was ogling him with a somewhat creepy look. He got nervous just by looking at those eyes. The smile, if it could classify as one, directed at him wasn’t exactly very comforting either. And his breath, good God, he could kill someone with that breath. It was like something had crawled up in his mouth and died. Daxter gagged when the stranger breathed a puff of hot air into his face. There was the distinct smell of alcohol tinged in it, too.

“Whoa, ever heard of personal space, man?!” he said when he was able to catch a breath through the fumes.

He ripped himself free from the loose grip on his shoulder. He didn’t know what the man was after, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to stick around and find out. He was probably some drunkard who was trying to find some money for his next drink. And not doing a very good job at it, either.

But Daxter only got about two steps before he was snatched back by a grip on his jacket. He felt himself slamming into the guy’s chest and a strong arm wrapped around his waist. At first he was too shocked to do anything, but when he felt a sloppy kiss being placed on the side of his neck he was anything but idle. He kicked and squirmed in earnest to get free from the unwelcome embrace he suddenly found himself in. He also made sure to scream bloody murder.

“What the hell! Let go of me, you slobbering idiot!”

His demand didn’t exactly have the desired effect, and to his dismay he could feel the arm tightening around him. To make the whole thing worse, the man kept nuzzling his neck like he was some damn pet he could cuddle.

“Come on, don’t be like that, stay,” a coarse voice murmured into his ear, and he could feel the hand placed on his hip softly kneading it.

If that was supposed to qualify as something that would calm him down then the guy would be sadly disappointed.

“I’m not staying anywhere with you, so get off me right now, you freak!”

He wasn’t scared, yet, probably because it was kind of hard to find the time to register fear when you’re fully occupied with screaming and kicking. That was one of the little quirks he got going. People might think he never shut up because he liked the sound of his own voice. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t an entirely wrong assumption, but there were other good qualities to talking. Talking is a good distraction; you don’t have time to be afraid if you’re to busy talking. So Daxter made sure to practice it to its full potential, and managed to come up with quite the creative list of names for his attacker.

As it turned out the man certainly didn’t require any positive encouragement to continue his pawing, because seconds later he was slammed against the brick wall. And he managed to just in time catch himself from heading face first and smash his nose into the hard surface. He glanced over his shoulder and in the dim light he could make out the hard and determined look in the man’s eyes as he grabbed him harshly by the hips.

Daxter felt his insides grow cold; he was now officially scared.

This wasn’t some drunken idiot. Well, technically he was still drunk and an idiot, but he wasn’t drunk enough for Daxter to be able to push him away, and more important, he was determined.

This wasn’t his first time in a dangerous situation, but there was one big difference; Jak was always there with him. He would always be safe. This time he was on his own. Because, let’s face it, the few people who might walk by wouldn’t give a shit about what happened to him. This mess he had to get out of himself.

He yelped when he felt the man lean in closer and efficiently cover him. He spastically ran his fingernails over the hard brick wall, and made a failed attempt at taking a calming breath. But when the body behind him kept pressing even closer Daxter panicked. Forcefully he was crushed against the wall and slowly his breath was pressed out of his lungs. Alarmed, he tried to draw a couple of ragged breaths into his starved lungs.

‘Is he planning to kill me?’

He surely would if he kept crushing him against the unrelenting wall for much longer. But at least someone got enough air, because he could hear the man breathe heavily and grunt into his ear when humping against him a few times.

When he almost was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded, the man finally backed off slightly. Daxter greedily sucked in a couple deep breaths of air. The polluted air of Haven City had probably never felt so refreshing. But his relief was short lived. Because soon after his new favourite leather jacket was ripped off him, and he heard it land with a thump somewhere in the dirty alley.

He started to protest and struggle anew, but froze when his head was jerked back painfully by a grip on his hair. Somebody had obviously lost his patience.

“Do that again, and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t,” was hissed into his ear.

After that it was like his attacker was a man on a mission. And everything happened fast, too fast. His head was slammed back again and Daxter could feel his chin scrape against the rough wall. If he had any doubt that the man meant business before, he had absolutely no doubt now. He wouldn’t care if Daxter went along willingly or not, it would just be a bit more convenient if he did. However, it’s not like he would have a qualm in forcing him.

‘This is not happening, this is just not happening. This is nightmare, I will wake up soon, and Jak will be there.’

But he wouldn’t be there, so he sure as hell would have to come up with a better plan than that. So he did the next best thing. While the man was busy pawing over him, Daxter made an attempt to change into his ottsel form. The only problem was that he had never made the change under pressure, and especially not while a drunk man was touching him in places he really shouldn’t.

Despite that he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the busy hands, but that was certainly easier said than done. He bit his lip in frustration. He just couldn’t bring himself to relax as much as the change demanded. And just how the heck was he supposed to relax with his soon to be rapist right behind him? It was impossible to shut out the wandering hands under his t-shirt even for a few seconds. His attacker probably interpreted his sudden motionlessness for compliance, because he made sure to make very good use of it.

‘Where’s your happy place when you need it?’

Still, he nearly had it under control for a moment, and Daxter almost thought he would succeed. But then a hand was suddenly palming his ass through his pants, and was working its way to the front, into his pants. That successfully broke his concentration like a cold shower. He quickly directed his effort at swatting away the unwelcome hand. When the hand retreated he breathed a sigh of relief over the small, though temporary, victory.

After that he gave up any attempt of changing. He wasn’t even sure how much better the situation would become by turning into ottsel. He would be even more defenceless. Although, if he managed to get away it would probably be easier to hide somewhere, and you couldn’t rape an ottsel, right? You could definitely kill one, though. Not a very pleasant thought.

When he suddenly was turned around and slammed against the wall once again any thoughts of clever escapes fled his mind. “Gentle” clearly wasn’t a part of this man’s vocabulary. He felt rough fingers grab his t-shirt. At first they tried to manoeuvre it over his head, but when that proved too much of an effort they settled for ripping it in one quick motion. Daxter gasped when the cold night air hit his bare chest. Now even more eager to get away, he tried to wriggle out of the grasp but was restrained with a heavy arm over his neck. He felt sick when a hard bulge was pressed against his thigh.

‘No, no, no.’

He started to shiver, if it was from the cold he wasn’t sure, but his whole body shook violently. The man grunted and pressed closer to him, like his shivering was in some way distracting him in his quest of touching every damn part of him. His hands were everywhere, on his hips, his ass, his chest. Groping and pinching, making Daxter want to scream. But he didn’t, because he planned to live just a little bit longer.

“You’re so hot, I’ll bet you’re tight,” the man spoke huskily into his ear, and gave his ass a painful grope.

If he was supposed to be flattered it wasn’t exactly working. And, to Daxter’s humiliation, he heard a sob escaping him. He could feel wet, hot tears on his cheeks.

‘When did I start crying?’

A sound of distress left his throat when the man decided to join his busy hands with his mouth. Not just for kisses, but also small bites that were placed all over his chest. Daxter yelped and tried to jerk away when he suddenly felt teeth bit down hard on one of nipples. He pushed urgently at the man’s shoulders, but with little effect. He was sure his poor abused nipple must be bleeding from the harsh treatment. He sighed when the man finally let go of his acing nub, but frowned when he instead searched out his mouth for a kiss.

Oh no, there was just no way he was going to allow that.

Disregarding the man’s earlier threats he started to thrash in earnest. His hands were quickly restrained, but to his satisfaction he got a knee right up in the man’s crotch. His assaulter doubled over with a pained sound, but not before gripping him with a bruising grip by the throat. Daxter choked and clawed at the hand, but the grip was firm.

‘Oh my god, I’m going to die.’

Maybe fighting back hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

He didn’t have much breath to spare to begin with, and black spots were quickly appearing in front of his vision. The man must have recovered again because he could feel himself getting pressed against the wall once more. He grimaced when he felt something hard sticking painfully right into the small of his back. He was confused at first, his sluggish, air deprived brain worked slowly to figure out what the strange object could be. That’s when it suddenly occurred to him; it must be his gun that was still tucked into his waistband.

‘Why hadn’t I thought of that earlier?’

Getting his body to obey was an effort, but with a last boost of energy he managed to reach for the gun. His fingers brushed over the handle before he griped it, and with effort managed to get it out of his waistband. His heavy eyelids where beginning to slip shut when he removed the safety, but he still held onto the gun like a dog to his bone.

Which was fortunate, because it was probably the only reason why he managed to still keep his grip when pain suddenly exploded in the left side of his face. Sweet air returned to his lungs, but instead he felt dizzy from the hard blow to his face. It seemed like the man wasn’t planning to kill him just yet. That’s good to know.

His chin was grabbed and he met the man’s furious eyes. He really hated those eyes already. He was mad now, really mad. Daxter was feeling more and more grateful for the gun in his hand every passing second. He looked like he wanted to murder him, which he probably would when he was done with him. Well, a knee in the crotch had never helped to improve one’s mood.

“You’ll regret that,” he promised in a deadly tone.

Daxter didn’t doubt that for one minute. And he should have been terrified, but the gun in his hand reassured him. He had a way out, and he was going to take it.

He raised his gun.

The man looked a bit confused at first when he spotted the gun in his hand, but soon after he was laughing. Not really the reaction Daxter was going for.

“What’s this, are you going to shoot me?”

Daxter ignored the mocking tone.

“Get the hell away from me,” he said with a slightly wavering voice even though he made an effort to keep it steady. His voice was still a bit hoarse from the harsh treatment to his throat.

He knew he probably looked pathetic, like a kid playing with a grown up’s toys. He was shivering, dirty, and wet tracks of tears were on his face. Not a very scary sight indeed. All Jak’s instruction on the proper ways to use a gun had fled his mind. He just gripped it steadily with both hands and kept one finger ready on the trigger like it was his only life line in the world. Which it most likely was, because there was no chance he was getting out of there alive by his own, sadly lacking, strength.

When the man smiled down at him, and made no effort to move back, Daxter pressed himself even further back against the wall. This really wasn’t the reaction he had been anticipating. Why didn’t he back away like he should? That was a normal reaction, right? If someone points a gun at you, you give up and back away.

“Just go away,” he said hoarsely, and it was more of a plea than a command.

The man snorted, and barely gave the gun in his hand a second glance, like it was nothing to worry about.

He closed in on him.

Daxter fearfully raised the gun even higher, his fists were probably turning white by the tight hold he had on it. If he could have melted into the wall he certainly would.

“Don’t come any closer!”

“Come now, put that thing away and— “

When the man reached for him, Daxter jumped, startled.

The shot echo loudly through the deserted alleyway.

The man looked at him, surprise registered on his face, and for the first time that night he looked anything but confident when he stared backed at the wide-eyed Daxter. But just moments later the man fell face down to the ground by his feet. He was still.

‘Oh my God.’

Daxter stood frozen to the spot, transfixed by the dark pool that was slowly spreading from under the lifeless body. He stood like that probably for a few minutes, just staring, waiting for some life sign, but nothing happened. He carefully pushed at the man with his boot, but got no response. He pushed again, a bit harder this time, nothing. His shivers were getting worse and he had a problem with still keeping a steady grip on the gun he still held in his hand.

The gun, he didn’t want it anymore.

With a sob he finally let it fall to ground. The loud sound when it hit the ground made him wince. His fingers were still acing after the impossibly tight grip he’d had on the handle. Slowly he started to back away from the unreal scene before him. He just wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and forget this ever happened.

His body was aching all over; he touched his cheek lightly and grimaced. He would probably have quite a shiner by tomorrow. But it could have been worse, so much worse. He felt cold in the harsh night wind, and started to search for his jacket. He found it a few feet away and quickly put it on. It was a bit dirty and smelly but it felt heavenly against his cold skin. He didn’t bother with his t-shirt that was lying in rags on the ground.

He still needed to find his way back, to Jak. He just wanted to see Jak again.

How he found his way back to Headquarters, he wasn’t entirely sure. He was in a daze most of the time, and he hardly remembered anything from the walk itself. He just remembered feeling cold and empty, a surreal feeling surrounding him. But his heavy feet led him well, and sometime during the night he finally ended up in familiar territory. He was lucky nobody else seemed to care about the lost gangly teenager wandering the streets, since he had little attention on the world around him.

His head was a mess.

He had shot a man, probably killed him. He wasn’t entirely sure, he hadn’t dared to look closer. But with all that blood, he must be dead. He hadn’t even meant to shoot him, he just wanted him to go away, to stop touching him. Why couldn’t he just have left him alone?

TBC

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Go Daxter for defending himself! I hope you’ll not hate me for being so mean to poor Daxter, but I think he’ll be alright, he has Jak after all. ;) And to all the impatient, yes the lemon is on its way! The story is actual coming to an end soon. I still have at least a couple of chapters left so don’t worry but I’m wrapping it up soon. Though, there’s no need to despair because there’s a big chance I’m doing a sequel. :)

Now make me a happy writer and leave a little review for me to read.