Chapter 8: The Proper Fit

Jak waited for him at the end of the block, acknowledging Dax's grim look with a brusque nod. This was how it was supposed to be. Lonely – but not alone. Needed, but not wanted. The best job in the entire world that just won't let you quit no matter how hard you tried. It sucked, but that's how life is. Sometimes you choose your fate, other times it chooses you. And sometimes it crawls into your bloodstream and alters you until you are no longer fit to do anything else.

Dax had been here before; though he'd thought at the time it was being an ottsel that set him apart. Ha, ha, well… apparently not. The simple explanation is not always the right one.

"There's a storm sewer this way," said Jak. "I'm pretty sure it climbed out from here." "It" was the metalhead rat that Daxter had killed. The incident at the worksite remained unmentioned.

Dax nodded and followed Jak's finger to a dark narrow inlet where the edge of the pedestrian causeway dipped and slid beneath the concrete of a cross street. The hole looked claustrophobic – a slit of blackness barely wide enough to admit Dax's head. Did Dax want to go down there? No way, no how, but he would.

Jak then turned and reached into his backpack, pulling a pistol from one of the inner pockets. "Here."

Dax took the gun, and found places in his work belt for the ammo clips that went with it. Then he found a spot where he could secure a pair of grenades that Jak also insisted he have. He was as ready as he'd ever be, Makers help him. "How many of them do you think we are looking at?" he asked.

"We killed five yesterday. There was yours, and another down the street. Hopefully not that many more." Jak grinned like this was a great boyhood adventure they were about to embark on.

"Well, no time like the present," said Dax, forcing a more chipper smile than he really felt. "Let's give these critters a taste of lead."

He crouched down and eased himself into the storm drain, feet first. Past the narrow entryway, it widened out to a more respectable passageway, still too short for Dax to stand up in, but wide enough that he could maneuver around on his hands and knees. Jak tossed him down a glow-stick before squeezing his way inside himself. Dax fastened the light to his shirtsleeve then looked both ways down the passageway.

Now if he'd been an ottsel, he would have been able to smell the trail. He'd be scampering ahead, following his nose, keeping things light with a smart aleck sense of humor. Now, he just didn't have the heart for it and his nose was telling him nothing.

-- But his eyes were another story. "I see some fresh tracks in the mud here, Jak!" he said, excitedly. "They seem to be coming from this direction." Ignoring the fact that the same mud that preserved the Metalhead's Rat's tracks was also slowly soaking through his heavy canvas pants, Daxter crawled onwards, tracing the creature back.

And that's when Daxter forgot – momentarily – his misery. Because it was fun. The ultimate hide and go seek. Adrenaline made his heart beat hard and his mind think. It was like the cobwebs had been swept off and he was finally using all his faculties – not just the muscles that never seemed to grow any larger no matter how hard he worked out. Not just his limited elven senses. All his experience, all his powers of observation, guts, grit and the thirst for glory, all melded together into a perfect moment of clarity. Booyah!

"I sense metalheads," said Jak and with a gentle-but-insistent arm, he pushed Dax to the side and crawled past him, putting himself between Daxter and the enemy. "Watch my six," he said.

Dax crouched and stared backwards the way they'd come, wanting with all his might to turn around and face down the creatures coming at them. But that was Jak's job. His was back up. No shame in that – still more important than roofing.

He could hear them now, a skittering of claws, and sloppy thunks and plops and clicks. The sound of the twigs washed down from the nearby Garden section being scraped aside by fat bristle-furred rats. Moments later, he felt Jak shift against him; the hard muscles of Jak's arm jostled Dax's side as he pulled his weapon from his thigh-holster and let loose three quick rounds into the echoing cement culvert. A high-pitched squeal marked his success.

"All clear," said Jak, reholstering. Dax swung around again to survey the damage. There were two rats. Jak made quick work deactivating the devices in their heads, then tossed the stones to Daxter to put in Jak's backpack. They shoved the corpses to the side to make it easier to pass without crawling over them. Next big rain would flush them into the swamp. "I think I sense more up this way, though," Jak said before Dax could relax.

They continued to crawl for what must have been blocks. The light of their glowsticks was supplemented by periodic shafts of sunlight coming down from street above. Then, somewhat abruptly, the tunnel angled steeply downward then opened out on both sides. They'd entered the portion of the city's drainage system that was far, far older than the city itself. At some point in the far distant past, this hall probably was Precursor gathering spot – perhaps an underground market place, with stalls that had long since crumbled to dust. Now, with the help of a bit of ordinary brickwork here and there to channel the flow, it served as a sewer. There was some respect.

Jak took point now, splashing through a broad but shallow and sluggish moving stream of dirty water. He reached the other side and pulled himself up the channel wall with casual ease. Dax followed, trying to ignore the way the cold water invaded his work boots. He reached the wall on the far side and for the first time felt a pang of self-conscious worry. The wall was taller than his head – and glassy smooth. What if he couldn't get up there? That worry turned out to be unfounded. He did get up – though he didn't do it with nearly the same grace as Jak. Jak merely watched him, as he spent the better part of ten seconds scrambling his boots against the slick wall for purchase before finally getting high enough to lever his center of gravity over the top.

"You know," said Dax nursing a fresh scrape on his left wrist, "You could lend a hand. Some of us are just ordinary folks."

Jak quirked up an eyebrow, and snorted skeptically.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, big guy, but seriously, I hope you have some rope in that backpack of yours."

Jak didn't even grace that with a response. He was moving ahead again, at a pace that was difficult for Dax to keep up with. They were in the Precursor ruins now, which meant that if you didn't watch your footing you were liable to fall down a shaft. Dax almost psychically sensed Jak's muscles tensing. He fumbled for his gun before Jak turned and said "Right ahead."

Right ahead turned out to be more like "Around this huge twenty foot deep pit with a pool of dark eco the size of a small ocean". Ledge time. God Dax loved ledges – and by love, he meant utterly dreaded. Jak nimbly scrambled around them, apparently not even noticing the way the stones shifted a wee bit under his weight. Dax reholstered his weapon and followed, much, much, slower, face practically planted into the wall and both hands stretched out to keep his weight as far as possible from the edge.

Jak had the gall to laugh at him from a safe spot on the far side.

Dax was about to retort something back, when he realized that Jak wasn't paying any attention anymore. He'd found the rats, or more accurately, they'd found him. There was a nest of them. The spit and dirt mound that grew out of the ruptured wall was only the entrance of the nest dug into the soil below. There was no telling how big the chambers beneath were. They could contain easily twenty of the little blighters.

Dax forgot about his treacherous footing and ran the last segment of ledge, cutting a final corner with a leap and a roll, drawing his weapon as he came to a stand again. Jak didn't say a word. He was too busy alternately kicking away and shooting rats. For every one he killed, two more seemed to flood out of the structure to bite him. Dax could see the darkening stains of blood on his legs. Despite the wounds Jak didn't do much more than grunt.

Dax turned and fired at the entrance to the nest, catching the next rat in the face and giving Jak a bit more space to deal with those who had already emerged. The next moments were so hectic that Dax didn't have a chance to even think, all he could do was shoot, shoot, shoot, reload, shoot. There was no time to fear, no time to worry. With a burst of inspiration he yanked one of the grenades off his belt, pulled the pin, then tossed it through the entranceway of the nest.

"Fire in the hole!" he shouted and then threw himself to the ground. He felt a heavy weight over his body, then the noise and heat and pressure made his ears ring.

Dax breathed. The weight lifted off his body and he rolled over to see Jak pulling himself back up again. Without missing a beat, the taller elf kicked one last stunned but still living rat in the belly and sent it out over the cliff and into the glistening black eco below. The pool accepted the body without even a splash.

"Good call," said Jak, holstering his gun. The metal head nest had collapsed, burying the rats within. They'd have to wait a bit to see if any of the healthier ones were able to dig themselves out before suffocating, but thankfully the chances were slim.

"Lost us some orbs though," said Dax pragmatically.

Jak raised an eyebrow. Then shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Torn won't stint us. Not for work in the city. This is a top pay." He brushed some clods of dirt off his shoulders, then unslung his backpack and fished for a green eco pack.

Daxter felt a jolt of shame. It'd always been his job to keep Jak healed in battle. Now Jak had to wait until the fight was over. "Need one?" Jak asked. Dax just shook his head. He watched in silence as Jak broke the thin protective coating around the eco and let its glowing green essence sink into his skin. The discarded wrap was flicked out into the black pool without a second thought.

"'Let's go," said Jak, standing up. With a leap that was pure grace he caught the edge of a metal girder and swung up to that damnably tiny ledge, walking his way back to the hole they'd come through as if a six inch shelf were a highway.

Dax hesitated.

He could feel them, the Precursors, all around him like cold ghosts seeping into his skin. This was once their home once and for a thousand years it had been their grave. They wanted him here, maybe even more than Jak had. Running was pointless, they'd sunk their intangible hooks in him deep and were reeling him back. Just a bit more to go and he'd be solidly theirs forever. Dax knew with utter certainty that one day he would walk into a precursor ruin and never walk out. After his body died, would his spirit join theirs? Would he haunt whatever unlucky bastard came after him? Or would he finally be free?

Maybe it was just his ears still ringing from the blast. Maybe it was the exhaustion of having been on this emotional rollercoaster too long, but he thought he could hear something calling from below him. A rumbly deep bass muttering his name over and over. Slowly, Dax stepped towards the edge of the pit where the last rat had fallen into the depths.

Black eco swirled below him like an oily liquid stirred by a hidden current. The smart part of Dax warned him to back off. His memory reminded him that this was a bit too similar to the circumstances that started this mess. Back then he hadn't known enough to be afraid, but now he did. Most things that fell into that darkness never returned.

But he had… once.

Had it really been that bad? Honestly? Yes, there hadn't been much respect when he was an ottsel – no matter how much he'd earned it. He was considered a curiosity by most, a buffoon by some, useful by precious few. Loved by one. Two. Tess…

Dax's chest tightened and he squeezed his eyes shut.

If he went back to being an ottsel perhaps she would love him again. Perhaps he could go back to that easy going affection that they'd had. Jak had never begrudged him her company at that point. Things had been simple and she'd been beautiful and life had just been one endless adventure. Yeah, he could go back to that. It would be easy.

And Jak – Jak would be free to date again. No worry about ole Dax being a wet blanket on that party. He'd have that chick with the golden hair, and the one in the market and the one up the block. And maybe even Ashelin again. Or Keira. This time, Dax would make sure he didn't stand in the way of that. It would be nothing but healthy relationships for the two of them, the way it was meant to be.

This time he would be content, he was certain of it. Just tuck away the longing for what he'd never have to a corner of his heart and he'd be fine. Fine. And all it would take was a minor leap of faith. Just a mere inch forward, hang those toes over for a moment, lean his weight, and let gravity do the rest. It was so easy. One last deep breath, let it go, and trust.

"Dax!"

Jak's panicked voice made him stiffen and shake. His nerve broke, but it was already too late. With an ominous snap, the bricks beneath his feet dropped away into the abyss. Some last minute contrary instinct made him throw himself backwards, spinning around to claw at crumbling brickwork. By some minor miracle, his hands found purchase and his fall stopped with a jolt, with his feet dangling fifteen feet above the maw of roiling liquid.

And abruptly he was not okay with falling into the drink. He wasn't sure what kind of insanity had overtaken him to make him think it was a good idea. Dax's heart hammered with terror. The Precursors had turned him into an Ottsel once – there was no guarantee they'd do the same this time.

Dax shifted, using every ounce of skill and strength to secure a better hold on the crumbling brickwork. He knew it was futile. Like all Precursor ruins this was held together with nothing more than lingering malice. They wanted him to fail – to die. They laughed beyond their graves at the young upstart race that followed them. They were insane and malevolent beings – why else would they have built those hideous yellow orbs?

He felt the stone yielding under his sweating hands. The piece on the left went first, splitting off from the crumbling floor and sending him twisting. Dax tried to use the momentum to swing him back up to get another hand hold, but the sudden increase in weight was too much for the brick under his right hand and it, too, broke free.

He was falling. The wall in front of him rose up quickly obscuring his view. This was it. The end.

He felt his hair lift on the back of his neck and thought that it was just the wind of his descent. Then he realized gravity had released its hold on him. In its place, Light's arms wound around his waist, cool and tight like silk. He heard the whoosh of Light's wings furiously beating the air. Then they swung around, arcing away from the cliff side. Light's foot tapped the wall of the pit and pushed away launching them higher while the oily pool below them writhed impotently.

Dax leaned his head back and looked up and saw a god glowing against the darkness of the ruin.

He is, thought Dax with awe. My god.

Light made one more graceful loop and settled them easily back down at the entrance to the tunnel. Dax felt the other's grip loosen around him. Reluctantly he turned around to face his savior. So beautiful. Light cupped his chin and leaned in, brushing its ethereal lips against his and Dax was swept away by the revelation.

The priesthood had it all wrong – it wasn't the Makers they should be worshipping – it was Jak. This was the one true religion. The only religion that had ever made sense. Jak was going to save them. Save them all.

Then the glow faded, and it was just Jak, warm, comfortable, Jak, smelling of sweat and rat blood and gunpowder. Jak gathered him in tightly and Dax didn't fight it. He clung back, rocked down to the soles of his feet by his sudden understanding.

"I'm sorry," said Jak. "I shouldn't have brought you down here. You were right. I'm so sorry."

"No," said Dax. "No. You aren't. Wrong. Or Sorry. Or you shouldn't be." Dax winced and tried to speak his thoughts coherently. "It's not you, Jak. It's never been you – you've done everything you should, it's been me. I – I slipped up there –" I gave into fear. "I had a stupid lapse of judgment. I'll do better next time." Dax girded himself and stood straighter, trying to defuse the situation. "Hey, you got me, so it all turned out fine in the end."

Jak stared deep into his eyes. "Are you sure?" Dax understood the rest of the sentence: Sure you want to go back to fighting metalheads and climbing around dangerous ruins? Are you sure you want to be risking your life, day after day, for a basically thankless task?

"Yeah, I'm sure," said Dax. "There's nowhere that I want to be other than with you, buddy."

Jak frowned, and Dax realized that Jak thought he was bullshitting him again. Being sarcastic. But for once he wasn't. Everything he'd done the last 9 weeks had shifted in his mind and he was able to see it in a new light.

"No, Jak, I really mean it." Dax stepped back, turning himself away so he didn't have to see Jak's face and hopefully Jak couldn't see his shame. "Listen, I know we've been fumbling around for months trying to figure things out between us – and I know, it's not been so much you fumbling as me. What I mean to say is, I'm the one who is sorry. I've been letting you down. Repeatedly. I just hope you can forgive me." Dax peeked up.

Jak's eyes were downcast. "I was afraid you were angry at me."

"Angry for what?" asked Dax, ruefully. "For giving me everything I've asked for? Never pressuring me, even when you damn well should have? Putting up with my tantrums? What kind of crummy friend would I be if that made me mad?"

"Angry for wanting you," said Jak.

Oh.

Dax's heart ached. "I could never be angry for that. I love you, Jak."

"I've been… jealous. I want you with me all the time. Like before. I want what we had before. I know it's not fair or right, but I can't not want it. I've tried." Jak looked ashamed.

Daxter thought he understood. This wasn't enough, Jak wanted the furry him. He pressed his lips together grimly. "There's a chance," he said. "If you – let me go – into the black eco. I could revert back to being an ottsel again. I was almost brave enough to do that myself – but not quite."

Jak's eyes widened and suddenly Daxter found himself being pressed against the wall hard. The air went out of him and he stared in terror, realizing that he'd provoked Jak in some dangerous way. He'd never seen fury like this before – not even when he'd screwed up big.

"I don't want you to be an ottsel," said Jak fiercely. "Promise never to try to be one again."

Dax felt a swell of relief. "I promise."

Jak relaxed a little – not enough to let Dax away from the wall, but no longer pressing him so painfully against it. "Good. Suicide will not make me happy, Dax! Not at all!"

"But then what are we going to do, Jak?" Dax closed his suddenly weary eyes. "Because I'm out of ideas here, buddy. I've been trying my damnedest to figure out how make us fit together, and I've been failing. I need your input man. I need to know what you want. Everything I've done has been the wrong thing."

"I've been afraid of overwhelming you. I don't want to order you."

"Do it," Dax said, firmly, opening his eyes again. "Order me. Tell me what to do."

Jak looked incredulous. "Don't you understand, Dax? If I start doing that, you might not be able to say no. I can make you do it." Jak shook his head as if trying to negate what he was saying. "And I can be selfish."

"I don't want to say 'no,' Jak," insisted Dax. "I just want some direction in this relationship. I'm confused and I'm really tired. And I don't know what you want. You won't tell me anything."

"Your independence…"

"Overrated." It was almost too painful to think about. The dreams of being his own man had died on the construction site. He was tired of fighting his destiny. He just wanted to take the easy way for once. He wanted to belong to something bigger than himself that he could believe in, and Jak fit that bill. Whatever Jak wanted, that was what he wanted.

Jak accepted his allegiance with a nod. Then he pulled Dax away from the wall and hugged him tight.

"Then I want you, Daxter," came the words in his ear. "I want you by my side in battle. I want you with me in the bar. I want you in bed. I never want you to leave me." With the last word he let Daxter go and stepped back to see his reaction. "I love you."

Daxter gave a slightly bitter laugh. "You realize I'm going to cramp your style, big guy. And sure, I might be sweet in the sack as a novelty, but I can't be a girl. Eventually, you are going to want something I don't have to give you." He pantomimed breasts.

"I don't want you to be a girl," said Jak. "I want you to be you."

"People are probably going to gossip about it," said Dax, remembering the rumors about him and Torn. "I mean, I'm not much of a looker, even for a guy. You are really settling, here."

Jak cocked his head scornfully. "When have I ever cared about what people have thought of me?"

Oh, so true. Jak never cared. Peer pressure never made the least dent in him. Jak was a force of nature. He bowed to no one.

"But is that what you fear?" Jak's eyes narrowed. Dax knew exactly what that meant, anyone who dared give Dax grief about the relationship would be very sorry for a very, very long time. If Dax wished it. Not that Dax did – he didn't want Jak fighting his battles for him.

…But maybe even that wasn't really it. Maybe this wasn't a battle that needed to be fought in the first place.

After all, since when did Dax have to bow to peer pressure, either? Since when did he care what the random elf on the street thought? They didn't know shit about his life. They'd never faced down fear the way he did. They'd never been transformed by eco. They hadn't seen the world, or fought wars, or been the hero like he had. Dax didn't have to live up to anyone's definition of manhood but his own!

"Do you want me?" Jak asked.

"I love you," Dax said with utter sincerity. "Of course, I want you." This should have ended the conversation, but it didn't. Now that they were getting everything out in the open, there was one king sized issue that couldn't be avoided.

Jak looked sadly at him. "But are you attracted to me, Daxter? I don't have," he pantomimed breasts. "Either. Would you be willing to give up girls for me? Because I don't think I can handle the idea of you sleeping with anyone else."

He meant Tess. Oh god, Tess… She was beautiful, and wonderful and, Makers, sweet. Everything Dax had ever wanted in a woman. And she wanted him, too, which was a miracle in itself. But Tess was right, she was so right. Dax had already made his choice. He wanted Jak more. Guy or not, he loved Jak more.

Because Jak was beautiful and wonderful and everything Tess was – and more. He was special, inside and out, and there would never, ever be another like him. No one else could fit that place in Daxter's heart the way Jak did. They belonged together. Tess just couldn't compare. It had hurt to let her go, but it would devastate him to lose Jak. No contest. Dax chose Jak, and he didn't regret it.

It was over. There could be no more fantasies about how he could have been with Tess, if things had just turned out slightly different. No more waiting and hoping that Jak would change his mind and give them his blessing. No more insisting that that would be the healthier relationship. It was time to make the final commitment. Dax closed his eyes for a moment and shut that door in his soul.

Strange. He thought there would be more pain, but all he could muster was a little hollowness in his heart.

Jak was waiting for a response.

Dax let out a relieved laugh. "If I got one vice, big guy, it's that I'm faithful to a fault." Dax gave his arm a pat. "Until the day you decide its over, I'm with you. You don't have to worry about me."

Jak pushed him up against the wall once again, but this time more gently. Before Daxter could wonder what he'd done wrong this time, Jak kissed him. It was a hard kiss, demanding, exciting, enveloping. There was nowhere to go but with it, to kiss back, to meet ardor with ardor.

Dax knew his wrists were being held against the wall in what could be seen as bondage. He certainly didn't have the strength to get away. The body pressed against him was unyielding, but he didn't mind. No more than that, he needed it. Precisely this.

This was his life, now. When they got home, he knew Jak would take him to their bedroom to have sex until their bodies ached and their souls were satisfied. Tomorrow, Jak would demand from him everything he had: every bit of energy, moment of time, every ounce of concentration, until there was nothing left for worry or self-consciousness or want. Dax would be swept up completely into the duo that was he and Jak.

My god, my lover, my purpose.

My best friend.

This would be all the best parts of his ottsel days and his elf days rolled into one.

"Let's go home," said Dax easily breaking free of Jak's embrace. "Come on." He scrambled ahead and Jak let him. The way seemed easier than before, Dax's footsteps were sure, and his body more than equal to the task.

I am not a Loser, thought Dax. I'm the luckiest damn elf in existence. And this time he actually believed it.

The End

A/N: And that's it. My great Passive Aggressive Opus. Hopefully the ending is happy enough to make up for all the depressing middle part, even if the ending is pretty much "And then Dax 'drank the Kool-Aid' and discovered it surprisingly refreshing."