A/N: So originally this was supposed to be a one shot about Jak's scarf, but nah, I ended up writing a six chapter story about his life as a prisoner. This story will cover Jak's scarf, him breaking is muteness, and why I believe he has trouble forming bonds with people. Filled with angst, torture, and death; enjoy!

And don't worry, all the chapters are already all written up so there won't be any hiatus!

"Don't worry Jak, I'll save you before you know it!"

Darkness.

That was the last thing the young warrior could remember before regaining consciousness. The cold of hard steel below him seeped into his already sore limbs, doing nothing to help the massive headache that pounded in the back of his skull. He slowly opened his eyes before quickly shutting them again. Everything was a grey blur and only added to the nausea the pain was causing.

Cautiously, young Jak picked himself up and slumped against the wall behind him. He grabbed his head and rubbed his eyes while attempting to open them again. He blinked away the harsh light and let his eyes slowly focus on the environment ahead. As soon as he had, he wished he hadn't.

There wasn't much, but it was enough to summon a wave of fear. Thick iron bars reached from top to bottom of what he could only assume to be his prison cell. The entire place seemed to be made of metal with distant footsteps echoing off the solid walls. It was completely different from what he was used to in Sandover; everything there was dirt and wood and brightly coloured. He knew the moment that he and Daxter flew out of the portal that they weren't anywhere near home.

Daxter!

Jak frantically scanned the room, desperately searching for his furry friend. He remembered Daxter calling out to him and promising to come to his rescue before he blacked out. While he didn't know how long he had been unconscious, he had hoped it was long enough for his friend to reach him.

Nothing. He was alone. Alone is the cold dank room; if you could call it a room. There were no lights in his cell and the ones in the halls ahead were dim and strained his eyes. The floor and walls felt like ice causing him to shiver and his joints to creak. The pain in his head lingered annoyingly and he felt a bump where the guard had hit him. Most importantly; he was completely alone. He couldn't see into the other cells and couldn't call out into the silence to check if they were even occupied.

The realisation began to sink in. He brought his knees up to his chin, burying his face into his arms. He had never been so alone, so helpless. For as long as he could remember he had always had someone; Samos had been with him from the start along with Keira, and ever since him and Daxter had become friends they hardly left each other's side. Even when he had knocked his friend into the pit of Dark Eco, turning him into an ottsel, he stuck by him. Just a few weeks ago they had even saved the world, but now-

A sudden clang resounded down the hall with the sound of scraping metal following close. Panicked, Jak scurried into a corner furthest from the cell's door. He knew he couldn't hide, but somehow it made him feel more secure, though not by much.

Multiple pairs of steps clanked louder and louder as they drew near. Jak lowered his eyes hoping to be ignored. When the sounds of marching stopped and were replaced by the jingling of keys, he knew he wasn't so lucky.

The door opened with a metallic creak. Whomever had opened it slowly walked towards him and stopped a couple feet away. Slowly, Jak looked up.

Towering over him was a large man clad in blue and silver armour with red cloth draped and hanging throughout his body. It took a moment for Jak to realise that the metal atop his crown was not a helmet but integrated into his skull. The man's head was tilted up with his arms folded behind his back, giving off an air of authority. But it wasn't the man's stature, or even metal plating that brought fear to Jak's gut; it was his one good eye. He was looking down at him with intrigue, though it felt more like a he was looking down with curiously at a pathetic insect. Considering how he felt, Jak assume that's exactly what it was.

The man's mustache shifted into a grin, "Welcome, young one, to my prison. Do you know why I brought you here?"

Jak shuddered at the sound of his voice and was suddenly grateful for not having one of his own. Even if he could talk, he knew he wouldn't be able to. Instead, he slowly shook his head.

"Good." That was the only response Jak received before he walked back to the door. Before leaving, he looked back over his shoulder, "I suggest you get comfortable. You're going to be here a while." before leaving the cell. One of the two red armoured guards closed the door behind him with a loud crash before following the man down the hall. The second guard remained, watching the two leave. For a moment Jak thought they were standing guard until they crouched down.

But Jak had no interest in hearing was they had to say. The man had gone through the trouble to come over just to tell him he was here, and here to stay. He had no interest to hear anything else from those that worked under him.

He heard movement then a click; Jak assumed they look off their helmet. He was proven right when they spoke with a clear and unexpected voice, "Hey, kid."

Jak glanced over, now curious. Kneeling down behind the bars was a woman with dark brown hair and equally dark eyes. Her face was sharply angled and adorned with strange tattoos, though her eyes were oddly warm and staring straight at him with concern. He was thrown off by the softness of her expression, though welcomed it.

She smiled as he started to relax, "Good, you're not hurt. What's your name?"

The boy looked to the floor and shook his head. His response, or lack thereof, was met with a frown, "Do you not remember?

Jak shook his head and gestured to his throat with his eyes stinging with threatening tears. He suddenly missed Daxter greatly; his friend could read him like a book and had become his voice. Now he was completely silent.

The woman's eyes flashed in realisation and she nodded in understanding, "Ah, not much of a talker, eh? That's alright. My name is Raychel. And don't worry, I'm a friend."

He frowned at her comment and was thankful that she seemed to have read his questioning expression. Her voice lowered to an even quieter whisper, "I'm working with an inside group working against Baron Praxis, that man that was just here. One of the other soldiers are leading a plan to break out the prisoners. Give us time, and we'll get you out, promise." She finished with a warm smile and Jak couldn't help but smile back. Whether it was this group or Daxter that broke him out, knowing there was hope of escape brought him some comfort.

Raychel glanced down the hall before jolting upright. She glanced over to Jak quickly, "Sit tight kid," before bringing her helmet back down and marching forward and out of sight.

Jak sighed and slumped back. Even with knowing people were working on a jailbreak, he was still here; still alone in the cold, dark, dank cell. He brought up his stiff feet, attempting to rub some warmth back into them.

A shiver passed through his body and fatigue suddenly weighed down on his eyes. He may not like it, but until help arrived he was at the mercy of the prison and it's guards. He slowly picked himself up off the ground and stumbled to the small cot chained to the wall. It still wasn't very comfortable, but anything was better than the cold ground.

He curled up on the plank, the paper thin cushion so useless it was like it wasn't even there. In an attempt at warmth it brought up with knees and wrapped his arms around his body. His eyes closed, leaving him in darkness with hopes of sleep coming quickly.

Unfortunately, it did not.