#Damas is like 'MAR I HADN'T TOLD HIM YET!'

[radioactivepeasant]

Surprise! Demolition Trio Snippet!

It's an in-between scene that happens right after Jak gets his first battle amulet, but before he and Sig go back to Haven to continue the Jak 2 plot.

Mar tugged Jak's arm and frowned at him. "How come you don't eat lunch with me no more?"

Jak scratched the back of his head. "Ah...I just...well, kid, your dad hasn't seen you in a long time. I wanted to give him time with just the two of you."

Mar, much too young to understand that idea, looked skeptical. "But he likes you, too!"

Jak laughed and tousled Mar's hair. "Okay, sure, Mar-mar. But I'm not his kid."

"How do you know?"

Jak sputtered and stared down at his small friend, completely speechless. He could think of a dozen reasons it would be impossible, but none that would satisfy a four year old. Also the implication was weird enough that his brain was having trouble even processing it- and unfortunately Mar was clearly interpreting his bewilderment as conceding to his point.

And considering Jak had never known either of his parents, and knew next to nothing about Mar's parents, he couldn't really say with 100% confidence-

Wait, why was he even entertaining the thought?

Who even were his parents?*

How did he get to Sandover? How far away was Haven?

When Damas came to collect his son a short time later, he found Jak sitting and staring off into space with a thoroughly puzzled expression. His ottsel friend was shaking him, trying to get a response with no success. Concerned, Damas turned to Mar, who lay on his back kicking his feet in the air.

"What's wrong? Is Jak alright?"

"I broke Jak. Sorry, Dad."

Mar looked faintly chagrined.

"I dunno why he broke though."

"It's because junior told him that if he never met his parents, he can't prove that you're not one of 'em," Daxter supplied with a groan.

Damas’s eyes widened, and his face went slack. "Mar!"

"What?"

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippet Friday Week Two: Blackmail au

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The cheers were deafening. Overwhelming. Too much noise and too many people and-

Jak clamped his hands over his ears and shrank behind Sig.

Ahead of them, Damas carefully navigated a throng of warriors, all of whom seemed to want to slap his back or tousle Mar's hair. Jak didn't like them touching his brother. He wasn't their kid. He wasn't theirs!

"Easy, kiddo," Sig murmured, and wrapped one thick arm around his shoulders. "There's not too many kids in Spargus. Losing Mar hit everybody hard."

There hadn't been too many kids in Sandover, either. But Jak could say with reasonable certainty that no one would've kicked up this much of a fuss if he or Daxter had gone missing.

Well, maybe they would have if it had been Keira. She had a parent to miss her, after all.

Jak swallowed down a prickle of envy. It tasted like anger, and stale bitterness. In Haven, it was easy to look at people there and think of his childhood as ideal in comparison. But Spargus made it clear that Sandover had provided the bare minimum of what a child needed to survive. Necessities, but no true emotional investment. No genuine love.

Mar seemed to be getting as overstimulated as Jak. He grew quiet and subdued, huddled against his father's chest. There was just too much happening.

Damas smiled softly at him and hefted him a little higher in his arms. "I know. You're doing so good, baby. We're almost home."

"Want Dax an' Jakky," Mar signed, beginning to look zoned out.

Damas turned to face Sig and the older boys.

"Jak," he called gently, "Could you come take your brother for a moment? He's asking for you."

It was as much strategic as it was simply responding to Mar's needs.

Jak needed something to ground him, and by the looks of it Daxter was too overwhelmed to help.

Mar needed his older brother to feel a sense of normalcy.

And Damas wanted- needed- to make it known that this older boy was his.

Jak stepped up beside him and held out his arms for Mar. Honestly, Damas had no idea how he could carry his little brother and an ottsel the same approximate weight without a hint of difficulty. Had he always been so strong? Damas pushed away the questions for later and put an arm around Jak’s shoulders -- shielding him from the crowd and silently declaring to the onlookers that the boy was his at the same time.

A buck-toothed child sitting on her parent's shoulders called out in a voice just high-pitched enough to be heard over the crowd, “Who's that guy?” as she pointed at Jak.

Damas smiled in the girl's direction. “This is Jak, my firstborn!” he declared proudly. “We were separated when I was first exiled. My enemies could not find him and so they told me instead that he was dead. Yet here he is, the thorn in Praxis's side he cannot remove!”

The praise set Jak’s teeth on edge. It reminded him too much of hero talk. But at the same time it was an uncomfortably unfamiliar experience. Someone was talking about him to others as if he was proud not of Jak's accomplishments so much as his mere existence.

Jak pulled his eyes away from the crowd to focus on Mar. He could put aside the discomfort of crowds for his brother.

“Hang in there, kid,” he murmured.

Daxter patted Mar's head, almost falling off Jak’s shoulder to do so. “Just try to think of whatcha wanna show us first when we get to your room, okay?”

Mar brightened a little at the suggestion. “Show you my toys!” he decided. “You can play with me?”

Jak hefted him a little higher. “Uh…sure kid.”

As long as his idea of play wasn't “hold on to Jak’s back while he goes Dark and play Flut-Flut Ride" like they did in Haven sometimes. Jak really didn't feel like explaining that to Damas and Sig.

________________________________________

Mar had...a lot.

Just. A lot.

Jak counted six picture books sticking out of a bright red crate in a corner that had been furnished with a stack of pillows and a bucket of blocks. There was a drawer of clothes, long outgrown, with a scant two shirts that still fit. He had toys-!

So many toys!

Jak sat on the floor in something akin to shock as his brother ran back and forth from his cot to deposit things into his arms.

A soft Lurker made of cloth and feathers.

A little leather thing that looked like a bald Flut-Flut.

An old, worn-out teddy-bear with a crude "P" stitched onto its chest.

A rubber ball.

A wooden top with a string on it.

Jak frowned and held up the top, keeping it out of reach of Chopper's curious jaws. "I've never seen one of these with string on it before. What's it for?"

Damas looked up from sorting out the clothes that no longer fit Mar. "Oh. That's a trompo. Loop the end of the string around your finger, then throw the top. If it lands on its point, it spins."

"Huh."

Jak set the other toys to one side. This did not deter Mar, who proceeded to hand them all to Daxter.

"So you...just pull it and throw? Like a grenade?"

Jak took the toy and wrapped one end of the string twice around his middle finger. With a shrug, he flicked his wrist and let go of the trompo. It bounced, only barely glancing the tip to the floor, and rolled away. Jak's eyes narrowed. There had to be a trick to it. He picked it up and began winding the string around it again. Maybe he'd thrown too hard? Maybe it was more like casting a fishing line than a grenade.

The second time, the trompo landed on its point and spun around once or twice, but soon wobbled and fell. The third time, it spun for nearly four seconds before clattering to the floor. The fourth attempt was too fast and sent it rolling across the room again.

Sig sat down beside Damas to watch the boys. Daxter and Chopper had both been completely buried under Mar's four beloved stuffed animals -- none of which had been forgotten in the last two years.

Mar had grabbed his weighted Star Blankie from his cot and was menacing Daxter with it, intent on tucking him into "bed".

And Jak crouched barefoot in the center of the nursery, watching the spinning top with wide, fascinated eyes. It was as if he'd forgotten the rest of them existed, hyperfocused on unraveling the secrets of a little wooden trompo.

"Well, at least two shirts still fit. Pants will be an adventure, but-" Damas looked up and his words trailed away.

Beside him, Sig was watching Jak with such a sadness in his eye that it drove thoughts of clothing from Damas's mind entirely.

"...Sig?"

The breath Sig took was shaky. He swallowed hard.

"I've never seen him play," he whispered.

"I didn't think he even knew how after what they did to him. I-"

He stopped and covered his mouth with one hand. He didn't want Mar to see him looking so distraught. But he couldn't help wondering how many years it had been since Jak had played. Since he'd even been allowed to act his age. Had the "training" started early? Did he ever know what it was to be coddled? To be tucked into bed, or held close during thunderstorms?

Would he allow them to fill in the holes Haven had left behind?

Sig's throat ached when he looked at the innocent smile on the teenage mercenary's face. There was still a sweet little kid in there, there had to be. But they had to make him feel safe enough to come out.

"Daym, we have to get him some toys," he whispered. "I...I don't think he's ever had any."

The same realization Sig had made dawned slowly on Damas’s face. His brows knit together and the lines etched around his mouth deepened. Perhaps he needed to take his resolution to treat both boys equally a little more literally than he'd first planned.

"Oooo!"

Mar had finally noticed the trompo.

He stopped trying to bury Daxter and Chopper in toys and scampered over to lean on Jak’s back.

"Oowow, Za!"

That innocent look turned bashful as Jak twisted to look at his little half-brother. "Pretty cool, huh?" he asked.

"Do it again!" Mar signed enthusiastically, "Make it go all the way to the door!"

Jak shrugged. "Why not. We'll give it a go."

"Heads-up, in five minutes I think Mar needs to get ready for bed," Sig warned suddenly.

"I'm not tired!" Mar protested.

"Mar-mar you've been rubbing your eyes for fifteen minutes," Daxter tattled from under the stuffed animals.

Jak bounced his shoulder, causing the toddler to slide off. "And you turn into a Lurker when you're overtired. We'll do one more spin, and then I'll-"

He frowned. No, they weren't in Haven anymore. Things were different now. He didn't know the rules here.

"Uh. I guess they'll get you ready for bed?"

Damas actually looked embarrassed, and even a little sad. He blew a breath out through his teeth.

"Jak," he began, "It's been…It's been two years since Mar was home. As much as I want to fall back on the routine we kept…before…I- I don't think that's what Mar is used to."

Sig nudged Damas’s elbow in an attempt at comfort and nodded. "He's right, cherry. Do you…want to show us what you usually do?"

Jak exchanged a look with Daxter. Daxter shrugged and extricated himself from the pile of toys. He brushed himself off and eyed the room critically.

"Yeeeeahh….I don't think he's gonna sleep. Not without the lights on. Those barbarians in the Underground never turn the lights out. And lemme warn you now: this kid? He's a climber. That dresser better be anchored to the wall, or he will try to monkey his way up it in the middle of the night."

“Ah. So he still does that.” Damas chuckled ruefully. “I can't say I'm surprised.”

He raised his brows at Mar.

“And for the record, little one, Daddy, Ba, and Jak and Daxter are all on the same page here. You're not staying up to break of dawn just to play with your toys. They'll still be here tomorrow, I promise.”

"Well, then can Dax and Jakky sleep over?"

Mar ran to climb up into Damas’s lap, beaming winningly at him and Sig. "So they can play with me tomorrow?"

"Of course, Marmo," Sig answered warmly. "They can stay as long as they want."

Mar's eyes lit up and he threw his arms up with a jubilant hiss. Then a puzzled look came over him.

"Does he have to ask his grown-ups? With the scribbly face and Mr. Green Man?"

Jak's face hardened. "I don't have to tell them anything," he scoffed.

Sig nodded with a hard set to his jaw. "They aren't his grown-ups, baby. Me and your daddy are, or close enough to it."

If anything, this only seemed to confuse the little boy more. He wrinkled his button nose at Sig, then looked to Damas. "But I thought Jakky lived in the stinky city!"

"Not if I can help it," Jak grumbled. He let out a gusty sigh and shifted his eyes away. "Look, um. Your dad is...we...we kinda...share the same dad. It's weird, I know."

He missed the gentle expression that passed over Damas’s face. It was the first time he'd acknowledged their connection at all, let alone out loud. That was a promising sign. Damas could only hope his firstborn would continue to be open to getting to know them.

Mar blinked slowly as he digested this information. The big boy had been calling him "little brother", now that he thought of it. But Mar had thought they'd just decided to be brothers, like how he decided to adop' his puppy! But if he and Jakky shared the same daddy-

"Are you Jakky's Ba too?"

Sig laughed awkwardly. "Uhhhhh no. At least, not originally. I wasn't related to his ma."

He glanced up at Jak.

"You can call me what you want," he joked, "long as you aren't knockin' my marksmanship."

Jak looked just as awkward. "I'll uh, I'll stick with Sig."

He fiddled with the string of the trompo and wound it up. When he was satisfied that he'd twisted the cord correctly, he shifted his weight and prepared to throw the top again.

"Okay squirt, last spin, then you pick which side of the bed the dog gets tonight."

Daxter stretched out his spine and leaned on the stuffed Flut-Flut.

"You want us to camp in here with ya, kiddo?"

Mar started to nod, then a thoughtful look came over him. He snuggled closer to Damas’s chest.

"Um," he mumbled, then looked a little guilty as he signed, "Yes, only I think maybe Daddy might get scared tonight. And I am a big kid now, so I should help him be not scared."

Jak actually cracked a grin, alleviating some of the guilt on the little boy's face. "Oh yeah? You're gonna be his bodyguard tonight?"

"Yeah!"

"Well who's going to stay with Chopper?" Jak teased.

A look of consternation wrinkled Mar's brow, then just as quickly melted into stubbornness.

"You! You sleep in my room with Chopper!"

The boys sent a skeptical glance at Mar's alcove bed. While it had been commissioned with growth in mind, it was still over a foot shorter than would be comfortable for a teenager. If he stayed in a fetal position the whole night, Jak supposed he could manage it. After all, on his first night in Spargus, Jak slept in the indoor oasis, curled up between potted palms and safely out of sight.

Apparently, that wasn't acceptable for a long term stay. Not that Jak intended on staying that long. Not while the Baron was still alive and still a threat to his brother.

He told himself he didn't need a bed. Why bother when he wasn't even meant to stay that long? He'd done his part, he'd brought Mar back to his -- er…their -- family. Any moment now they'd probably give him an air train pass back to Haven.

Keep your expectations low enough, and it's harder for people to disappoint you.

Sig noticed his quiet and cleared his throat meaningfully at Damas. And for his part, Damas interpreted the sound as quickly as Daxter could read Jak's faces. He stood and, after reluctantly handing Mar to Sig, excused himself.

Daxter folded his arms. "Where's he off to?"

Sig held Mar's hands and bounced him up and down. He smiled. "Oh, just moving some bedsheets around to make a curtain."

"Is he into interior decorating on the side?" Daxter demanded, "And does he do free consultations?"

"What."

Daxter shoved Jak's skeptical face. "Hey, if Krew's dead, the bar's mine. And the way that man decorated is a travesty!"

Sig laughed outright. "Well, the "incident" left poor Tess at the bar all by herself for a couple days, so I'm sure she's tweaking lots of things here and there."

He leaned back against the squishy blue bean-sand-chair thing. "Nah, this is just a privacy curtain for the sitting room. Til we can find just the right room for you two chili peppers."

With a wink, he added, "You won't have to fold in half just to sleep if we put you on the couch. If your old man remembers to get his clean laundry off of it."

"I'm working on it!" Damas shouted from the other room.

"You...don't have to do that," Jak mumbled.

This much attention without a task attached to it was...weird. It made him nervous.

Sig gave him a no-nonsense look. "You're teenagers," he said bluntly, "You need boundaries. As much as you and Mar love each other, he can't be up in your space every minute of the day. Having a room of your own lets you...regroup, y'know? Have some privacy when the world gets to be a little too much."

Jak started. It was as if the big man had been reading his thoughts. He did feel overwhelmed. He needed a safe place to withdraw to. But he didn't know this place. He didn't know where the safe places were! Jak folded his arms tightly over his chest and let the channeling ring dig into his skin, cold and hard and proof he was there, and real.

"What's the catch?" Daxter asked on his behalf.

It didn't seem like the question surprised Sig much. He wrapped Mar in a tight hug, then set him down on the floor. With a grunt, he pushed himself to his feet and feigned nonchalance.

"Well, you gotta keep your room clean enough to walk in. Easier said than done for some kids."

Jak relaxed slightly. So there was an exchange. Easier to accept things when he knew exactly what the terms were. Borrow a room for a while in exchange for keeping it clean. Made sense, they'd need it again later, probably. But it didn't seem like a fair exchange. Surely there had to be something else they wanted from him!

"What else do we have to do?" he asked.

There was no hostility in the question, only mild curiosity. But Sig winced all the same.

"Well, considering we ain't Krew, or whoever you worked for in the Underground, nothing. This isn't a job, cherry, it's a home! We're not employing you, we're trying-"

He scratched his head, stumped for how to phrase it. How to explain to the boys that they were entitled to being cared for.

"We- Damas and I- we just want to give you back the childhood they took. Dunno what that looks like yet, but...give us a chance? We just want you to be okay."

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[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Snippets: Free Day Thursday

By way of poll, we're back to the Gremlinverse. Damas is now actively involving himself in The Haven Situation

Damas secured the cloth around his head, tightening it over his crown. Just because the Baron was dead, didn’t mean his supporters were. The council that ruled the day to day matters of the city still wanted their previous king dead, last Damas had heard. If they were to discover that not one but three members of the House of Mar lived, they'd be livid.

Securing the turban with a pin, Damas turned to pick up his scarf and froze.

The other Mar -- the one calling himself Jak -- stood in the doorway, watching him. Now that he'd been noticed, the little boy tensed up.

"Uh-"

That was all Damas managed to get out before the child bolted.

"No wait-!"

By the time he'd rounded the corner, Jak was nowhere to be seen. With no one there to witness, Damas didn’t mind letting his shoulders fall. Mar remembered him, Mar was safe and happy and alive. That was more than he could have hoped for already. But the way this second child flinched away from touch and wouldn't trust more than three people-

It ate away at him. It burrowed into Damas’s heart like a thorn and jabbed deeper with every mistrustful look Jak cast at the world around him.

Sig said this boy had been older before. Something to do with a Precursor -- what a week it had been if that wasn't the most unbelievable part of the sentence -- trying to undo some horrible thing Praxis had done to him. Something about a perversion of time and space: doubling a child and forcing him to grow up unnaturally quickly to become a soldier. Or, that was the gist of what Sig had picked up. It did explain a lot of the boy’s reactions. But to know that someone had done this evil thing to Mar -- even if it was not the same Mar he had delivered and cradled from birth -- filled Damas with a rage that threatened to undo all his efforts to present a non-threatening front.

Praxis was dead, and that was as great an injustice as what had befallen his son. Or sons, rather.

Yet the elder boy, the one Sig was so fond of, he said that he and Jak had been there to watch to life flicker out of Praxis's eyes. They'd stood there dispassionately, listened to his death rattle, and then moved on to dismantle his ultimate weapon, irreverently tossing pieces of it onto his corpse. There was a kind of vindication in that. It still stung that Damas could not have avenged his children himself, but at least Jak had been able to see his enemy brought low.

The sound of a muffled argument down the stairs drew Damas’s attention. He crept down the stairs, deftly avoiding the spots the children had already demonstrated to be creaky. As he drew closer to the back of the bar, Damas identified one of the irate voices as Jak’s.

"-suddenly I've outlived my usefulness, is that it?"

"Stop putting words in my mouth, Jak!"

That one sounded familiar. And irritating.

"You know better than anyone that destiny comes for us whether we're ready or not. But in your...current state...it is better for you to prepare to face that destiny. Leave the ridiculous dangers for when you get some power back."

Damas peered around the edge of the doorway and glimpsed Jak baring his teeth and a short, mossy green man with a hefty piece of wood in his hair.

"There it is. It's always about power, isn't it? Gotta make me a super-soldier again so you don't have to do your own work. I knew you hadn't just spontaneously grown a conscience," Jak said bitterly.

"That's the dark eco talking," the tree stump man said condescendingly. "I told you, you need to learn control, and discipline! But no, no one ever listens to old Samos. He's only-"

Jak interrupted him, scurrying to cut off his approach. "You come near the kid and I'll show you just how "controlled" the eco is. The Precursors erased all the experiments -- too bad for you -- and most of my impulse control."

He balled up his fists and took a ready stance.

"Hand to the Oracles, I will channel a fireball straight into your unmentionables if you say a word to Mar or Daxter."

Damas had heard enough. He stepped down out of the wide stairwell with a noticeable thump and squared his shoulders. As expected, both the two arguers and the girl at the bar flinched or twitched at his sudden appearance.

"Is there a problem here?" Damas asked calmly.

He looked around the mostly empty pub and frowned.

"Where's the gangly boy?"

"He left me behind!" Jak snapped, then retreated into a shadowed booth. To sulk, apparently.

The girl cringed. "There's...Commander Torn sent Daxter out to the North Agriculture sector to deal with some metalheads trying to nest down there. Jak was all ready to go, but they kept giving him the run around."

She aimed a skeptical frown at the little green man. "Samos was pretty insistent that Jak stay and train his channeling, but I'm pretty sure Jak is already an expert. He got shorter, not less skilled."

Damas rubbed his chin. "And Jak and Daxter...they are not often apart, are they?"

Samos made a rude noise. "That little weasel's been riding Jak’s coattails since they were sprouts. He's the sidekick."

"He's my brother!" Jak snarled, coming partway out of the booth.

"And he's a better man than you'll ever be!"

The girl tensed and leaned clenched fists on the bartop. "Mr. Hagai, I've just about had enough of your attitude. What is your deal, dude? I swear, you're physically incapable of seeing Daxter without becoming verbally abusive."

Samos rolled his eyes. How airheaded did this girl have to be to have been taken in by Daxter's wild stories? It didn't bode well for the protection and guidance of Jak's younger self while they scrambled to put the Time Map back together.

"When you're older, and maybe wiser, you'll understand why I have to be tough on them. I don't expect a bunch of kids to know what's best for them."

"Wow." The girl curled her lip at the sage. "Yikes."

"Don't bother with him, Tess," Jak grumbled from the booth. "Getting Samos to say something nice is like talking to a rock."

Damas filed the name away in his head and realized he'd gotten her mixed up with the other blonde that hung around the bar.

Tess was the teenager with the creative weapons, Jinx was the grown man. Not the other way around.

Tess turned towards the corner where Jak had sequestered himself. "Has he ever apologized for any of that?"

"Uh, no. That would require convincing him that he's wrong."

"Mm. That's about what I figured." Tess shook her head and leveled a dirty look at Samos. "Jak, lemme tell you something my mama told me when I was little: never trust an adult who refuses to apologize to a child."

"Oh for taproots' sakes. Daxter isn't a child!" Samos argued.

"He's seventeen!" Tess answered sharply, "And you guys sent him out there without his backup!"

Damas held up his hands as if holding both of them back. "Alright. I've heard enough. Hagai: leave."

Samos turned to squint up at him. "And you are...who, exactly?"

Damas raised an eyebrow in silence and waited for the crabby little man to connect the dots. He turned a gratifying shade of gray when the realization hit him, but Damas wasn't in the mood to answer any questions. He stepped around the bar and crossed the room in two great strides. Taking hold of the sputtering sage's arm, he continued on to the door. As it opened, he swung back his arm and in one fluid motion he flung Samos out onto the street.

"Out," he said firmly.

"I-! You-! I've- why I've never been so insulted!" Samos gasped.

"How lucky for you to have a new experience, then," Damas answered dryly. Then his face hardened.

"I don't know who you think you are, but your meddling is not welcome in my family. And you can tell that Guard commander and the Praxis girl the same thing."

He didn't wait for an answer.

Damas stepped back and keyed the door shut with a smack against the palm pad. Rotting sage. Hagai's grandfather hadn't been nearly so insufferable! Samos seemed to have the idea that he was the main character of some epic tale, somehow.

"Ugh. Thanks for that," sighed Tess. "Usually the old stump's daughter keeps him in line, but she's been busy putting together the fundraiser Reconstruction Race in Main Town. Not easy when you're no longer tall enough to reach your tool bench."

The girl massaged her temples. "Hand to the Oracles, I'm this close to making a rule that Samos can't be in here without a chaperone."

Damas took a seat at the bar and, on a whim, passed a small metalbug gem to her. She took it, smiled softly at the way it reflected the light, and slipped it into a drawer.

"Right, back to business. What can I get ya?"

"Not for me," Damas waved a hand. "Compensation for having to deal with that sort of person. And..."

He looked away.

"And as thanks. For having their backs."

He didn't specify who "they" were, but he didn't have to.

Tess’s face fell a little, and she propped her chin up on her hands. "This whole situation is making everyone act like they've lost their minds," she confessed. "Jak and I have run three different Council Guards out of here at gunpoint already, and I'm pretty sure my apartment is under surveillance."

"Why is there a Council at all? Aren't those Praxis supporters?"

Damas blinked, and suppressed a start upon realizing that Jak had crept out of the booth and was standing at the edge of the bar, scowling. He was only a few feet from Damas now, and Damas kept still. No point startling the boy back into the shadows again.

"Well, according to Torn, we can't just imprison the old regime and start over, or we're the same as Praxis," Tess answered. "Still, you'd think he'd do something to keep you and Mar out of the middle of the power struggles."

Jak scoffed. "You'd think. But this is the guy who sold Mar out when the Baron threatened Ashelin."

Tess went very still, just as Damas stiffened. A coldness flooded the girl's face, and she turned slowly to look at Jak.

"Torn did what?"

Jak gripped the counter edge tightly. "And Samos and Kor. Remember when Dax and me busted you guys out of prison? It was Torn’s fault."

For a long time, Tess didn't say anything. She kept an impressive rein on her facial expression, but Damas could see a wealth of pain in the girl's eyes. Anger, shock, horror and betrayal- all too familiar to the former king of Haven. Then she slumped and closed her eyes.

"After the kinds of things I've seen as a spy, I don't know why I'm still shocked," she said in a shaking voice. Wiping her eyes quickly, she cleared her throat. "Gods, maybe Sig was right, Jak. We should've just left when he offered us the out."

Jak slipped around the bar to lean against her in an awkward attempt at comfort. "We couldn't. We didn't have Mar back yet. Daxter says it's their fault, not ours."

"Yeah." Tess dropped an arm around Jak’s shoulder. "I guess."

"If Dax wasn't attached to this place, I'd say we should just go," Jak suggested. "Grab Mar, grab Chopper, and just go."

With a faint smile, Tess nudged him. "Maybe we can convince him to open a sister location somewhere that wasn't just overrun by metalheads. You know he only likes this building because we "inherited" all of Krew's booze and didn't have to actually buy the supplies."

Up to now, Jak had been giving Sig excuses for staying in the city -- some because he didn't trust Damas yet, others for Daxter's sake. This was the first indication he'd given in Damas’s presence that he wanted to leave Haven. If ever there was a chance to convince the boy to go to Spargus, this was it.

Damas stood and stretched his spine with a grunt.

"Alright then."

"Alright then?" Jak echoed, squinting at him warily.

The king shook out his arms. "Keep an eye on your little brother, will you? I shouldn't be gone more than two hours."

Jak wrinkled his nose and looked vaguely concerned. "Where are you going?"

"To retrieve Daxter," Damas replied. "If you truly wish to leave Haven, the middle of a regime change is a good time to do so. Especially if they're already trying to put you under surveillance."

Abruptly, the guarded look Jak had been wearing since his arrival faded. He looked unsure, suddenly.

"You're...gonna help him?"

Damas flashed a brief smile. "Considering he's been keeping up with you all these years, I'm sure he has the situation in hand. But another blade in the fight never hurts."

"Oh," said Jak quietly. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, then closed it again. He nodded sharply, and took a breath.

"Uh...watch your back out there."

"I will, son." Damas returned the nod. "I suggest locking up until I come back, if the place really is being watched. Don't let anyone in."

"Good plan." Tess let go of Jak and fished a keycard out from under the bar. "I'll lock up and we'll post watch in the stairwell. Jak, you go get Pow-Pow out of my gun safe."

"I don't need the smaller gun!" Jak protested.

"It's for me, doofus!" Tess retorted, "You think I'm letting you or Mar put your grubby hands on my custom baby?"

"Oh. Nevermind." Sheepishly, Jak took the keycard and darted up the stairs.

Tess looked back at Damas. "You're really going to get all of us out?" She folded her arms. "Or just the boys?"

"Sig might shoot me if I leave you behind," Damas joked dryly. "If he offered you a way out, it means he's sponsoring you for citizenship."

Growing serious again, he added, "Call me if anyone tries to get in."

"I'd worry more about Jak getting out."

"Well," Damas sighed, "at least that hasn't changed since he was little.