"I gave this to my son before he was taken away from me."
Characters: Jak [shadesofeco], Damas [wastelanderking]
Location: Jak's room.
Date: 02/23
Rating: PG-13
In all honesty, Jak was more than just a soldier to Damas. More than just a warrior. He had always liked Jak, was always fond of him, but even now he couldn't treat him with any form of softness. As a citizen of his city, Jak had a certain amount of pride to keep, even if they weren't in Spargus any more, and even if Jak was still just a teenager and really couldn't be held accountable for these things. Damas did not think highly of a citizen of his throwing tantrums for everyone to hear. It just didn't sit well with him
So that would explain why he was standing outside of Jak's door, twisting the knob without even so much as a knock. This wasn't punishment, this was a refresher course on self-respect.
Not again. PLEASE not again, Jak would have done anything if it meant Redd didn't take Daxter again.
But the ottsel was gone. His room was empty, as if he'd never been there. No note, no resurrection, no signs of a struggle. Just as if he had vanished out of thin air.
Slamming his fist against the wall, Jak felt the plaster crack. His knuckles were raw and bleeding, the walls smudged with red here and there. The coffee table lay splintered in two halves, cracked down the center, the dresser mirror shattered on the floor.
Hearing the door handle rattle, his ears twitched, then he grunted and resumed his fight against the wall.
Damas walked in, letting out a disgusted grunt at the state of the room. Even in his earliest days of building Spargus from the ground up, he had never lost his cool quite like this. This was a wreck. This was just... ridiculous.
"Jak," he said gruffly. "Your wall is not an appropriate outlet for your anger."
He kicked a piece of shattered mirror out of the way and took a few steps further into the room.
Breathing hard, Jak braced his hand flat against the cracked wall, sending a shower of dust raining down to the floor. The Dark Eco surged inside him, twisting and pulling, burning and bubbling violently.
He just wanted to let. It. Out.
"I can't find Redd, this'll have to do."
Maybe he should be ashamed at his father seeing this side of him. But the anger was all he had right then, he clung to it like an old friend. If he was angry, he still had enough force to keep going.
Damas scanned the room, sighing in understanding. "The loss of our comrades is hard to take, but we must be strong and keep going."
He crouched down to pick up some debris. "Throwing useless, destructive tantrums is not part of that."
DAMN IT why did he have to take Daxter again? WHY? Just when things were starting to go right, when he was starting to think it might be for good this time.
Punching the wall again, Jak slammed his shoulder up against it, then slid down in defeat to sit on the floor, cradling his bruised, bleeding knuckles.
Damas continued to clear away debris, only taking a moment to look up at Jak. He could forgive this, Jak was only a boy, he didn't have the same sense of pride that Damas himself did. He didn't--
Damas paused, finding a particularly interesting thing underneath a piece of shattered wood.
"What's this?"
He picked it up and held it in his hand delicately, as if it would break.
Glancing up tiredly, Jak grunted. "It's just my seal, it --"
His eyes widened and his hands flew to his neck, finding the leather tie gone, the skin bare. It must have torn while he was destroying the furniture.
He gaped and tried to figure out what to say.
"This..."
Damas cleared his throat and glanced up at Jak. His favorite warrior. His...
"I gave this to my son before he was taken away from me."
Jak kept his eyes down, his anger gone in an instant, the Dark Eco simmering quietly with no rage to feed it.
"Yeah. I know."
His hands twisted, fidgeting nervously.
Damas looked back and forth between Jak and the seal, his expression growing more and more puzzled and angry and frustrated.
"Why do you have it?" he demanded.
His son... the last thing he had left of his son was sitting right there in his hand and it was in Jak's possession. He was torn between the glimmer of hope that his son was alive and well, and anger at Jak for knowing something and keeping it from him.
"It's ... a long story."
Jak cleared his throat, wringing his hands. He paused, staring at the blood and pieces of plaster stuck to his knuckles, then wiped his hands on his pants self-consciously. He was going to ask if Damas was sure he wanted to hear it, but of course he did, it was about his son.
"Haven Underground found a kid, asked me to keep him safe a few times. He was supposed to go into Mar's tomb, to get the Precursor stone but ..." His fists clenched in anger at the memory of that place, an evil assault course full of sadistic traps. "I went in instead."
There was another long pause as he tried to figure out what to say next.
His mind was racing, and he had to take a moment to calm himself down. He closed his eyes briefly and then looked back up at Jak.
"And you needed this seal? Why didn't you give it back?"
This was the last way he had of tracking down his son. This was the last thing he could have depended on to reunite them... Now, if Jak had it, how could he have any faith that his son would be found?
Reaching over, Jak picked up a piece of glass, turning it over in his fingers. Something to do to stop his hands from shaking.
"I didn't ... I don't remember Haven. I grew up in a fishing village. Then we ... I found a Precursor artifact that opened some kind of rift. It brought me forward in time, to Haven."
His breath hitched and he grimaced, cutting his thumb on the mirror fragment. Sucking on the welling blood, he tossed the shard aside, then shook his hand.
"It's ... that's where they sent the kid to keep him safe from the Metal Head Leader. He said ..."
Deep breath. Why was this so hard to say?
"He said the kid was me."
Damas did his best to piece it together in his mind. Forward in time? How did that work? Precursor artifacts could do that...?
He had to take a deep breath now. If the kid in Haven had his seal, and Jak and the kid were the same person...
Damas grimaced. "What does that mean?"
He still didn't quite understand how Jak could go forward in time and meet the younger version of himself. But... he thought he was starting to understand. Is that what Jak was getting at? It was... it was impossible.
Jak shook his head, still not sure how to explain it to get it to make sense.
"It means what you think it means."
Finally he looks up at the older man. His eyes are wide and clear, more full of hurt and hope and desperation than they ever have been. He'd watched his father die in his arms, held him as the pieces of the puzzle finally clicked together in his mind.
And now Jak had a chance to really know him, to know him as a father rather than a respected authority figure.
"Damas ... I'm your son."
Damas could do nothing but stare at the seal. Jak, his son? His? Could something like this really be true?
He cleared his throat and looked up at Jak before taking a few steps toward him. Close enough to hand over the seal.
"You know," he said as he held it out, "in the back of my mind, I had hoped he would be something like you."
Bracing his hand against the wall, Jak grunted and forced himself back to his feet. He was suddenly very aware of what side of himself Damas had seen; not the Dark Eco of the Wasteland Arena, or the slightly cocky, presumptuous teenager. But the real dark side of him, the Dark Eco fuelled rage, the childish part of him that just wanted for once, to stop running and fighting and just be happy.
Holding his hand out for the amulet, he glanced up at the king. "You did?"
Damas gave Jak a short nod, looking down at the floor. "Mm," he replied. "Your bravery is admirable."
But he needed to be on his own, needed to think about this. He would not get emotional in front of Jak, in front of his son.
"I should go."
Well this was ... awkward. Taking the seal, Jak stuffed it into his pocket, unsure where to look. The disappointment was evident in his eyes as Damas spoke, but he swallowed it back and nodded. This was a big revelation, it would take time to process, to accept.
"Yeah. I ... yeah."
Damas still didn't want to lose his cool right now, but he was staring into the face of his son, his son... it wasn't right to just leave. His features softened for just a moment before he pulled Jak into a tight hug.
"I am glad to have found you."
Jak tensed like a spring as Damas wrapped his arms around him, awkward as only a teenager can be. But slowly, he let the tension bleed out slightly, and clenching his eyes shut, hugged Damas back.
He was really here, it was really him. And he'd actually believed Jak. For the first time since Daxter had gone, Jak actually felt something other than anger. Like Damas was lending him strength just by accepting this unbelievable truth.
His son had been right under his nose the whole time. It was amazing, to have a person now, to have a face and know it was his son, it was really his son, his family. It was one of the most amazing things...
But Damas knew he'd still have to process this, still have to think it over, and as he pulled out of the hug, he gave Jak a look of weathered pride.
"I will go now."
Pulling back, Jak nodded, scrubbing his eye with his forearm -- it was dust, okay?
"Yeah. Thanks."
Exhausted and emotionally drained, Jak gave the older man a weary grin. He was dishevelled, dusted with plaster, hadn't slept, and his hands were raw from tearing up his room. But this was a huge weight off his shoulders.
Damas gave him a nod and then turned to leave, kicking away a few pieces of debris as he made his way to the door.
"We will have to talk more when you have regained more composure."
He didn't mention that he had a feeling his composure might slip if they kept talking about this here and now, he just gave Jak another brief look as he opened the door and left.