A/N: Just a small little break I'm taking from LS. I just thought I'd give you all something else to look at while I was working on it. I feel good! I just woke up with a nice mug of hot chocolate and the house and computer all to myself. So voila!

I like to write in 1st person POV, it's easier for me. But I felt that it wouldn't quite fit into this story, so I went with a different POV to get a better feel for it. I hope it didn't screw any of the quality up.

Summary: (One-Shot) The evil inside of Jak becomes stronger by the day. Daxter tries to help him control it, but everyone has their limit.

::WARNING!:: This fic takes place after the events of Jak II. Ya know... before the whole....Light eco thing, heh. And this fic contains A CHARACTER DEATH!!1! So be prepared, my friends. Be prepared.

A normal day. A simple phrase like that could be interpreted countless ways. For some it could be a boring day with no work and no chores and just plain... nothing to do but sit on your butt all day long and watch your life pass you by. To others it could mean being on the streets trying to scrape by to see just one more day on the planet.

A built looking blonde strode through the crowd. He was relatively short compared to the rest of the horde, but one look at his face and the glint in his eye would be enough to warn any bystander not to mess with the troubled kid. Not only was his step proving to be destructive, and his fist tightly clenched at his side as nothing but pure instinct, the said blonde had a reputation. A reputation that said he could do anything at any given time at any given date. But that wasn't what scared people the most. No.

They kept their distance for more... healthy reasons.

Even the orange little ottsel that was always so loyally glued to his shoulder guard knew the dangers of pushing the wrong buttons. He had gained the title of 'The Demon's Angel' on few occasions, although he never considered himself to be nothing more but a best friend. And best friends go through thick and thin together.

Daxter gulped. Sometimes it would be just a little bit too thick. And as time went on, that thickness was getting harder and harder to crawl out of.

One look down from his perch and he could see the aggression in Jak's steps. The far strides, and fast pace, the tightened lip and that stone cold glare that took over his blue irises. Jak was angry. And angry was not good. He'll admit that whenever his best friend got this way he would shrink a few sizes from that trademark position on his shoulder, and his fur would stand on end just out of nervousness that could never be helped. Scared, but too loyal to abandon someone who needed him so, he would always plaster himself to the spot, thinking of something, anything to say, to make those lips crack wider into a smirk.

Just like old times.

Today wasn't like that, though. Today he couldn't think of a single thing. And so the silence remained until they turned into a dead end ally, one that no one seemed to know about or at least never cared to visit. A place where a guy and his furry best friend could hide out for a few minutes where no one would stare you down.

Once out of view of the uncaring city, the young man bent his knees and cupped his hands over his face, causing the animal on his shoulder to leap off and land gracefully at his side. A small paw lifted and set itself on Jak's trembling knee with caution, tensing at Jak's suddenly convulsing body.

"Uh...Jak?" He sounded unsure, uneasy, but above all else, no matter how hard he tried to keep it from showing in his cracked tone, he was afraid.

Instead of a reassuring decree, a startling growl emitted from deep within Jak's throat. Daxter could not help but cower when his best friend's skin started to turn cold visibly, and physically. It was a whole other feeling from standing next to the transformation. A whole new perspective that kept him frozen to his spot, not even attempting to move. And by the time the little creature let out a terse, quick outlet of air from his gaping mouth, the transformation was complete, and his best friend had become a monster.

The hunched figure started pounding its feet on the pavement, head jerking in every direction, looking for something. When Daxter realized what that something was, it was then and only then that he knew he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That one mistake was a very dangerous one and he knew it.

Dark Jak snorted and howled and grumbled disturbing sounds that were horrifying enough to keep your children up at night. And he ran in circles in the ally, searching, searching, searching.

He was searching for blood. He was searching for something to kill and rip apart to vent all the anger that consumed his very soul.

Daxter concluded...That must have been why he had ducked into the ally. To get away from people he could hurt. In here the only people he'd be allowing himself to hurt was himself or...

Another gulp sounded loudly in Daxter's throat, the ball of saliva getting caught in his pipe and burning his insides. He hiccoughed and widened his eyes as Dark Jak whipped his head around and pinned Daxter to his spot with his eyes.

"Jak, Buddy. It's me, remember?" He started to say right away. Dark Jak took another step closer. Another step and another failed attempt from Daxter to revived that innocent spirit that was still somewhere deep – DEEP – inside of him. "I-I know that it's hard for you right now, buddy, but you gotta listen to me. You don't wanna d-do this. We both know you don't."

A few more steps. A few more failed efforts. A few more chances left to make it right.

"I know you can beat this."

Chances were running thin.

"Think about all we've done together, Jak. Think about all the thing w-we still have to do!"

Life is never like the movies.

With space ridiculously microscopic between them, Jak wavered from his position, gripping like mad at his skull, digging his own claws into his scalp, as if fighting voices from deep within.

"Dax," Jak's voice was mixed with that of Dark Jak. Pained and weary, he strained to speak. "Get... Get out of here... NOW!"

And as much as Daxter's mind screamed at him to listen and retreat, the ottsel's heart knew where it stood, and he refused to move. He was not about to leave Jak. Not again.

"Daxter!" His stab at using forcefulness in his voice to make his friend run did not work, and he finally lost it. Why was this happening? Why couldn't he control this power? Why...? Why...?

The sound of long and deadly claws tearing through skin like it was nothing had never sounded so morbid before. Daxter uncontrollably clenched his teeth and winced as a throbbing pain in his stomach suddenly consumed him. He did what he could to breath steady, to keep from making any sounds or shouts of pain. Jak was somewhere inside of this monster, not being able to control what was happening, and he would not give Dark Jak the pleasure of hearing him suffer.

A warm trickling sensation ran along the length of his leg, and when he coughed, a single solitary cough, he could feel the thick crimson dribble down his chin and hear the tiny droplets land themselves on the ground. The drops splattered on impact, created a sick artwork or death. On the cold ground, in an ally, in a hellhole of a city... This was to be his grave? He had always imagined a glamorous death, and death with Jak as they did something stupid yet fun, living life to the fullest.

His vision grew blurred and faded around the edges. He forced himself to look up at the face of his killer, knowing full well that it was not his best friend that was doing this to him. Jak was trying to prevent it, actually, but he had not yet gotten used to controlling the harmful power. And the consequences were...

Well, deadly.

Daxter shook his head as the pun skimmed his mind, and soon returned to his stomach, which now bore four gaping wounds that were losing blood massively, slowly making a puddle of red at his feet. The disgusting slurp of the claws being removed almost caused Daxter to hurl, but he collapsed to the waiting ground before he had that chance.

He lay on his stomach, in a pool of his own scarlet lament, head turned to the side to keep looking at Jak, praying to see his best friend one last time. His friend, not this beast. He looked around the ally; inwardly laughing at the cruel irony of this being his end after all they've been through. Something so simple and yet so possible to happen all along.

He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so cold.

As the feeling in his body took its precious time going numb limb by limb, his prayers were answered as Dark Jak struggled with his head in his hands, shivering wildly and twisted in every direction he could, as his skin finally began changing to the one that it should be. The one that it should always be.

Jak...

Jak, his Jak, had returned, with the biggest look of hate and regret and loneliness he had ever seen in any one man before. No... This is not the image that Daxter wished to be his last. Smile Jak... Why wouldn't he smile? Just one... last... time..?

Jak's shallow breathes were proof enough to know thathe was full aware of what his dark side had accomplished. And he fell to his knees, then to his hands, where he kept his head bowed. His nails dug into the concrete beneath him, and he lifted his head after a moment to see the damage. The damage that... could not be helped.

This wasn't the way it was supposed to end. This was never supposed to happen.

Suddenly, Jak could not find his calmness or his rationality. He could not find comfort in the lies that his mind was making up for him. And he could not escape the haunting laugh of Dark Jak howling in his head. All he could find was the little child in him that made him curl up into a ball next to the orange ottsel. The same ottsel he promised to one day help change back. The ottsel that he now wished he had paid closer attention to. But these are all regrets that we all get when we are scared for another's life.

Laying on the pavement, Jak didn't know what to do anymore. All he could think to do was reach out and take the bundle into his arms and hold him close. What had he done to his angel?

What was he supposed to do now? Now that he was... alone?

Soft, but strong unmistakable choked sobs filled the silent area of the city. Jak nuzzled his head into Daxter's mug, feeling like a child, and knowing that he was probably behaving like one, but he didn't care. All he wanted to do was wake up from his nightmare.

Daxter's ragged breathes grew uneven as Jak pulled him closer still, as though he could never be close enough. The limp orange heap in his protective and possessive hold grew colder with each passing moment. And every one of those moments that passedJak would hold tighter and tighter, trying to make up for that cold and warm him back up.

Small, gloved hands raised to stroke the older boy's hair, and as he comforted the blond, Daxter thought back at his matchless life. He used every ounce of energy he had left to form a weak smile, and his eyes went half lidded in thought. And with those final thoughts of his life, he thanked the Heavens for having the greatest friend that anyone could ever ask for, and as his last few breaths of life lost their final effort and strain...

He regretted nothing.