If you don't like Keira, this is not a fic for you.
This is not romance. I don't write romance.
This is a heavily edited end product. It's different from most of the J&D stuff I write. This is supposed to be the whole story, but my bff said it felt unfinished. I guess I'll let you all tell me.
Enjoy!

They always think there are two.

"So," Keira looks away, folds her cloth napkin. She seems as nervous as I am. "What's it like?"

What's it like? I bet everyone wonders that. Hell, I bet I would, if I were anyone else.

"It's... complicated." I look away, too. The floor is tiled. Each tile is made of a thousand glittering splinters of gold. Dark eco pumps through my veins, more than usual, as I haven't changed in a while. I ignore it. The waiter brings our food. I had forgotten what I ordered.

"Thank you," says Keira. I mutter a thanks to the waiter as well and he disappears. Keira pushes her salad around with a fork. "I'm only asking because I'm worried. We all are," she says quietly.

I nod, studying my steak. I feel uneasy.

"What happens, Jak?" She says more forcefully. She sits forward, puts her fork down. Somehow she can always get me to look her in the eyes. "I've seen the change. Is that really you?" She pleads, she taps the table impatiently, she exudes concern.

They think there are two.

I clear my throat. She sits up, eager to hear. "Why don't we talk about something else?" I raise my glass. Her shoulders slump, then she takes her glass. "To the new Governess, to a new home. To happiness and a bright future."

"Bright future," she echoes. The glasses tink together and we drown our own private thoughts in the most expensive wine the restaurant has. I dig into the steak. It's the best. I savor it. Keira pushes her salad around. I'd always imagined our first dinner together a little differently.

"How's your alloy project going?" I mutter.

"Pretty good." She takes a deep breath. She's probably debating how much detail she should go into. "The best mix so far is Precursor metal to steel fifty fifty, but I bet there's something better." Keira flexes her fingers, picks up her other fork. She starts to say something else, then stops.

"I'm sure you'll find the best," I say. She smiles weakly. I stare down at my food again. I know she wants to talk about how I change. Why I change. What I change into.

They think there are two.

"How's the steak?"

"Great."

The waiter comes over and refills our wine glasses. "Anything else?"

"I think we're good," she says. I nod. He leaves again, a flutter of crisp apron strings and shiny black heels. Keira pinches her lips.

"How's the salad?" I ask, though I know she hasn't tasted it.

"Very green."

Hmm, not a lie about how good it is. Instead a polite, if obvious, response. That's just like Keira. I almost laugh. She notices my smile and starts to smile, too. I'm very glad. "You gonna eat anything?" I ask, pointing to her plate. "All this money going to waste." I say it so it doesn't sound harsh. At least, I hope it doesn't.

She laughs, so I guess it wasn't. She takes a big forkful. "There, happy?" she asks, mouth full. I laugh as bits of carrot fall out. Keira slaps her hand over her mouth and looks up at me, giggling.

"I'll be happy if you don't spit it out all over me."

She's still laughing. Finally she swallows and removes her hand. She rubs it on the napkin. "That was very unladylike," she says reproachfully. "Look what you made me do."

I just grin.

We're silent for a while, chewing away. I finish the steak and push the plate aside. I prop my elbows up on the table and stare at Keira. She's busy trying to get an errant piece of tomato out of a sea of dressing. After a while she realizes what I'm doing. "Stop staring at me," she says, a hint of a smile. She squints and stabs the tomato with her fork. The waiter takes my plate away, glancing at my elbows in distaste. "I mean it, quit staring."

"Or what?"

She kicks me under the table.

"Ow!" The restaurant goes quiet as I rub my shin.

Keira glances around, trying not to laugh. The people slowly turn back to their own food. "Warned you," she whispers. "I think we just got fifty evil eyes."

"Fifty, huh?"

"Yeah."

I wonder how many we'd get if I kick her.

Not that I want to.

Though that did hurt a lot more than I would've expected.

Dark eco itches under my skin. I wish I had used it before we got together tonight.

"Jak?"

I look up. She's almost done with her salad. She's spreading the dressing around with the back of a spoon.

"Didn't Samos tell you not to play with your food?"

"Nope." Keira makes a face out of the remaining slivers of vegetable on her plate. "Jak," she stares intently at the celery eyebrows, "when will you be able to tell someone?"

I sigh. "I don't know."

She licks her lips, tilts her head, and fixes the drooping lettuce smile. "Maybe telling would help things, you know. Rather than holding it inside all the time. Maybe we could find someone to help you." I vaguely wonder who comprises this 'we.' Keira and Daxter? Maybe Samos. No one else here cares enough, I think. "We could get rid of... But we can't do anything until you tell us." Finally she looks up. "Please?"

They always think there are two.

I sit back. The wooden chair is uncomfortable. In this restaurant, you're supposed to sit up. "I don't think there's anything anyone can do."

"Would it hurt, just to talk about...?"

"It wouldn't hurt." I hold up a hand before she can demand the answers to all her burning questions. "It wouldn't hurt me, I should say."

"What do you mean?"

The lights dim; Daxter had warned me expensive restaurants did this to create some sort of atmosphere. Keira vanishes until my eyes adjust. She fades in slowly, a beautiful blue ghost. "How much do you really want to know?"

She snakes a hand around the glasses. "All of it," she takes mine. Part of me wants to scream with joy, she took my hand! But I almost flinch away. Her fingers are thin and cold.

"It's not just knowing," I frown, putting my other hand over hers. "Why are you so cold?"

"Poor circulation. It's from years of doing rut work. Continue." She gives my hand a squeeze.

"Understanding," I pause, "this will probably..." I can't think of how to say it. "It'll scare you."

"No it won't." She states this like a fact. But I think I know better.

"I'm afraid I'll lose you," I say softly. "Knowing too much will frighten you away."

"No," Keira leans forward and I can see the whites of her eyes. "I promise, I won't be afraid."

I bite my tongue. You can't promise that. I take a deep breath. "Everyone thinks there are two."

There's a small pause. "Two whats?"

"Two of me. There's me, and the other me. The Dark One," I say it like the slummers do when I walk around them.

"Well, there are." She states this like a fact, too. "You change. There's Jak and Dark Jak. Everyone's seen him."

"No."

"Huh?"

"They see me. There aren't two of me. There's only one."

Keira laughs quickly. "What do you mean? I've seen the other. He's different. And you're different from him." She touches my arm. "I know."

I shake my head. "You don't understand. There aren't two of us. There's just one."

"That's not possible." She tosses her hair back. "You're different. You're Jak. I knew you in Sandover. We've been friends forever. He's angry and violent. He has dark powers. How can you be one if you're both different?"

I wish you were right. I take a deep breath. "That's the thing. It's easier to think of it that way; two people, hell, not even people. Two personalities, sharing the same body. It's easier to think that because it's impossible to think of it any other way."

"Exactly!"

"But the easy way to think is wrong." Her fingers are still cold. I rub them between my hands. "He's not any different than I am. I am him. Does that make sense? There isn't even any 'him.' It's just me. There's only one. I'm still Jak from before. I've changed, but there's only one of me."

"I don't think so." Her voice has taken on a bit of an edge.

I grit my teeth. "I'm not suffering from multiple personalities, Keira. I'm me."

"Then what the hell is he?"

"There is no he. It's just me."

She shakes her head. "Then what happens when you change? You're telling me that's not another person?"

"When I change, my body changes. I'm still me inside." I wish desperately that I could explain to her how it felt.

"Yeah, you're you inside and he takes over. He forces you away." Her face juts up. "Right?"

"No."

I think her eyes are shiny. "So when you're him, I mean, when you change... that's still you? You can control the Dark One?"

"I am the Dark One."

"I've seen him rip Guards apart. You would never do that, Jak."

"I told you, there is no 'him.' It's me, and I guess I wouldn't have done anything like that before, but things are different here."

She shakes her head. I think she might be getting it now. "You're wrong. You wouldn't do that. I know you, Jak. It's him. Is he making you lie? Didn't the Oracle say the darkness would get you?"

I can smell her fear. It's still faint, but growing. Gently, I touch her fingernails, each carefully painted blue, one by one. "Let's think about this another way. When you're sitting here, you're Keira, right?"

"Yeah."

"Let's say you're in the shop. You've got your hood on, you're wearing that heavy apron, and you're melting metals and working. Are you the same person?"

"Of course."

"But you're wearing different clothes and doing things no one else can do. Are you sure you're not Race Mechanic Keira?"

She snorts a little. I'm glad. "I think I'm still Keira."

"Same for me! I change on the outside, but I'm still Jak."

"Jak, an occupation and a monster are two totally different things."

My heart sinks. "You know, that's how I wanted it to be at first, too." She's silent. "I wanted to think that when I changed, I wasn't the monster. He was. Dark Jak was. Anyone but me. I even tried to distance myself, see what happened when I let him take over. But there is no he. There's nothing to retreat into; there's no one else to blame for the destruction. It's just me."

She bites her lower lip. "You do all those things?"

"Yes."

I hear her sniff. She pulls her hand out of mine and wipes her face. "I don't believe you."

"I'm not lying," I say softly.

She searches my face. "How can it be you?" Her voice is very delicate, thin as the wineglasses. "How can that be you?"

"I've only told you the beginning." I try to take her hand but she pulls it away. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"No. Yes." She puts her hands over her face. "I don't know."

"Why are you crying?" I want to reach out for her, but she's distressed enough. So I strum my fingers on the table. Dark eco sparks as my nails hit the wood.

Keira takes a deep breath. She shudders. "I saw Dark Jak once, before you came to the shop and we figured out who we were. I was out buying supplies. He raged into the market and," she coughs, "and pulled this little girl out of her mom's hands."

I think back, but I can't remember the first couple times I changed very well. I wait for her to continue.

"He held her up in the air. Her mom was screaming. She was screaming. He was screaming. And then, all the sudden, the little girl wasn't screaming anymore. Her mom backed up into me, too afraid to run. She grabbed my arm," Keira pulled her hands away from her face, "dug her nails in pretty deep. She screamed and screamed. I held her, and he looked at us. His face, it's pale, you know," I nod, "well his face was red. And he looked at us. His eyes were black. Shiny black, standing out against all that red. He looked at us and his eyes were filled with... joy." Keira cleared her throat and folded her hands on the table. "Now, how can you tell me that was you?"

I lower my head.

"Sandover's beloved son. You who never hurt anyone, let alone a child."

I know now that I can't tell her the truth anymore.

"How can that be you, if you're sitting here with me?"

I look up.

"How could that be you?"

"I guess it can't." I pull my chair closer to the table. "You're right. Dark Jak confuses me sometimes. Know what? We'll see Samos tomorrow. Maybe he can help me."

Keira smiles. "I knew it," she says. She touches my face. I almost blush. "I knew it. Don't ever think you're that monster, Jak."

I pay for the meal and we stroll outside. She holds my hand. I enjoy it, though her fingers are so cold. She points out some of the glowing signs she made. "They're neon, of course, but the backing is metal."

"I like that one."

"This sign took me a week! But I found a new way to pound the metal. It's twice as strong."

"I like that one, too."

At her shop, she turns. "Thank you, Jak." She hugs me. I put my arms around her slowly. She smells like perfume and zoomer oil. We stand together for a minute. I touch her hair. She pulls away and looks right into my eyes. "I'm not afraid of you."

But you should be. "Goodnight," I say.

"Daddy can fix everything."

"Of course."

She smiles and goes inside. I wait for her to turn on the light, then leave.

I stand on the grass outside the stadium. I can still feel her in my arms. It's dead quiet out, not a Guard to be seen. The night is cool. Dark eco rushes through my veins. I grin. I loosen my shirt, tilt my head back, and raise my arms. The clouds above are black with pollution. I force the dark eco into my limbs; it rips the muscles apart from the inside out. It pours into the new voids, healing and growing the muscles stronger. My ligaments snap and bind to lengthened bone. Blue lines of energy dart around. My skin stretches and pales; I can feel the color and warmth draining into my chest. I take a deep breath and it's finished. Dark eco crackles along the ground. I twist my wrists before it can disappear, watching the energy scatter where I want it to.

At first it was scary. It was excruciating. It was foreign.

But now I am suited to it. In fact, I love it. I love that I can jump higher than I ever could. I can control the deadliest force in the world. I am a creature of unwieldable power. I love Keira, too. And because I love her, she'll never know what I really am. She can't understand. She cannot see me as a whole; only two separate halves. She would be devastated if she knew just how much I died at the Baron's hand. Now I remember that little girl in the market. Her fear had attracted me first, then her struggling. And it had all ended in that lovely shade of red.

Poor Keira. She'd never understand. Jak of Sandover ached for eco power, too. Didn't she see my delight every time I caught a sizzling ball of energy? But she never felt the rush of a yellow eco blast, the chilling purity of a green eco vent.

Now Jak of Sandover has what he always wanted.

There's something hauntingly beautiful about the final outpouring... I can feel a slummer's soul from a standard away, a shadow of white. Each one is a breath of fresh air, a source of unpolluted life. I can feel them on every level. They dance along the eco lines that run through the earth. If I've held the dark eco inside for too long... I need that life. It takes away the eco burn, clears my head. And right now I need to think.

I catch the scent of a suicidal slummer, his depression and angst tangy in the night. I grin.

They think there are two.

But there is only one.