WARNING: OOC, AU, yaoi, smut, fluff, gore, mentioned attempted rape and drug usage.

I know most will be rather skeptical if they've read this fic before, but I am indeed the original author, come back from the dead. After a rather depressing episode of events I'm back to write and hopefully to stay. This is the only story from my Yami-Echo account that I'm going to be continuing, so I hope you all love this enough to take it back into your bosoms.

Neway, there's a distinct lack of JakxDax ficcies, even less that are more than one-shots, and there's only one or two AUs as well …but I gots an idea in meh head so I'mma do an AU one too! X3


(Prologue- Dream a little Dream)

(Daxter's pov)

I can't remember how long it's been since I've slept without dreaming of him.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not entirely stupid as to when the dreams started, just not the exact date. I was fourteen when I started remembering them…but I'm sure there were more before then though….sort of.

It was his eyes that forced me to remember him every night. An extremely violent shade of blue that seared into your very soul, a fixated gaze that was upon me as soon as I entered the dream, and didn't leave me until the second I woke up.

They looked right through me, at me, into me, and something about the depth of emotion in those vivid electric blues made me sure from the very first time I'd spotted them that if I ever actually got that look inside my body I wouldn't be able to do anything but stare right back, a deer caught in the beam from some headlights on a truck.

A very welcome truck.

In any case, it was definitely a good thing those eyes only appeared in my dreams, and stayed there when I came back to consciousness. Hypnotic or not, I wouldn't appreciate death by baby blues.

It didn't take long before I began to remember more details about him, and the place he (and I, I suppose. Does a continuous dream count as an out of body experience?) was in. As pleased as I was about being able to recall the entirety of my mystery boy, he had to be two years older than me at most, his surroundings were definitely fitted to slot in the top three of the "Daxxie no likie" list, as well as numero uno in my top ten places to host a Satanic ritual.

It was a prison cell. Or to be more specific, a dingy little dungeon cell with a few rats scurrying in and out of the shadows and a single torch flickering weakly near the doorway as our only source of light, until the dawn filtered in through a very small boxed skylight on the ceiling. Hell, bright eyes was even chained!

That pissed me off above all else, the fact that he was chained. Tall, tanned, blonde hair, slightly more muscled than the average 15-16 year old, but not really a steroid taking buffness showing in his toned body. He looked pretty much perfect to me, sorta like a slightly dangerous angel, a slightly dangerous, chained up angel. There was no way in hell he deserved to be in chains! Has no one ever heard about the Child Protection Acts?! There was no way in hell this was legal!

He didn't seem to mind though; all he ever did was stare at me, sometimes curiously, other times in somewhat affectionate amusement as I "tripped" over something as I wandered around the room. We never spoke to each other, but I don't think either of us really wanted to. It was obvious from the moment I began to consciously remember every little detail about the dream that he was already used to me, and somehow, he made silence seem like a good thing.

…That and I probably would've swallowed my tongue in my first panicked attempt to ask him his name.

So we kept up this sort of tense silence to start off with, before we grew used to each other and were left with a more companionable silence for around a month or two… until he came.

Until they both came.

The first one's name was Erol. I know this because, when I first met him, that's what he told Jak his name was. Jak was what he called my bright eyed buddy. I wouldn't've put it past him to be lying about both names (he reminded me of a snake, a slippery, dangerous, unpredictable, lethally toxic snake) but hey, it was better than calling Jak blondie or bright eyes all the time.

Besides, the name suited him; it was all buff and manly-like and...things.

I'd been doing my usual thing; walking around, checking and memorizing the place that had become too familiar in the past few weeks, when the door let off a loud "CLACK!" as if a bolt of some kind had been removed from the other side. I stared at the door, then at Jak, and Jak just stared at me.

"I'm scared," his eyes said. "But I won't let them hurt you." It made me feel so special, to know he would do that for me. Even if he was a silent pal, something about him just made me feel like he was really important. Besides, how many people do you know who I'd actually willingly shut up around? Old moss-for-brains, my science teacher, would love him.

Jak stood, somewhat clumsily, and I ran to hide between him and the wall his back had been resting upon. The one thing that made me certain this was a dream was the fact that I couldn't touch anything, even Jak. It was so very obviously just a dream, just a slightly scary dream… and I kept telling myself that, but somehow, I just knew it was a dream in which I didn't want to be looked upon by anyone else this … building? place? … contained.

And if they had Jak in chains in a dirty cell like this, what would they do to a kid who'd accidentally dreamed his way in?

So when that wooden door opened in front of us (me for the first time ever. Though Jak had probably had a few people come in and out to get his food and empty his bucket (which, by the way, could burn an elephants nose off, never mind mine)) and someone else had walked in, someone else who wasn't Jak or me and was cutting into our precious staring contest/quiet time, someone who would, after finding out I was here, probably separate us for all time … we both freaked out. Big time. We both figured that I'd be caught.

"So…I take it that you're the infamous Jak?" The drawling, lightly threatening voice immediately put me on edge, and I stiffened, shuffling closer to Jak's back as if it could spare me the discomfort of hearing the evil, evil man.

Which it didn't, but oh well. One could only hope.

Jak never answered, but the look on his face said enough, because that voice, that horrible, horrible voice chuckled wryly and for one terrifying moment I saw clearly that it was totally and utterly insane.

And this evil horrible insane person had us trapped in the corner of a tiny dingy room with no way of escape or defense against him. Lovely. At least, I noted with a small sense of comfort, either he didn't care about me, or he couldn't see me. Both sides of that sentence sounded good to me.

"You may call me Erol. I'm leading the…experimentation currently being conducted in this place." He waved a hand blithely about. "This isn't one of our best rooms in the house, but then… Nothing is too bad for our 'eco freak'."

Eco?! I'd heard of the stuff, but now days it was incredibly, incredibly rare. It had horrifying effects on the human body when exposed to any type of the stuff for too long (Old Twig-for-dick had been exposed to green eco; that proved it entirely) and it was illegal to mine or sell the stuff in many countries.

Including this one, if it was the same one my body was sleeping in.

An eco freak was basically anyone like Bushy-balls; they'd been exposed to the stuff for too long and either their physical appearance was warped or something freaky happened to them internally. Was Jak really an eco freak?! He didn't look like one, but then, it could be something internal…

I know that Jak knew exactly what Erol meant; it showed in the way his muscles tensed and his hands clenched. So I put a hand on his shoulder, or at least, I tried. It was sorta like me and everything else in the room were positively charged magnets; I couldn't really touch him because my hand was repelled away from his body when it went too close. But I get the feeling he got the gesture anyway.

The sound of heavy boots thudded towards our corner, our lovely, safe, happy, oh so good helps Jak keep Daxxie safe corner, and I couldn't help but whimper a little.

I mean, grunt in a masculine, don't mess with the Daxter sort of way…that one.

Whatever I did, it made Jak furious. In a totally awesome move that pawned all moves (seriously, even the Matrix has nothing on Jakkie-boy!) he rushed towards Erol, slid between the big lug's legs as a punch was directed towards him, and was standing on the crazy assholes neck as he lay on the ground in seconds.

Seriously, like, wow.

And I would've stayed all happy-go-lucky-impressed-like, if it hadn't been for the fact that Erol started laughing. Loudly. Madly. And in a matter of seconds, it was Jak pinned against the floor by his throat, not Erol.

"You've got spunk, I admit to that." Erol was uber creepy; was it just me, or were his eyes glowing. "But that's okay, we'll break that spirit out of you soon enough." The booted foot was lifted, only to come crashing down on Jak's side. And suddenly, it wasn't a dream anymore. Not Jak, not Erol, not this cell.

As I watched in a numb sort of trance as Jak was pulled from the cell, his eyes seeking my own out and meeting them with a reassuring "he can't see you; don't worry about me." all I could think was that maybe this was a message, some sort of Precursor message to me, to find Jak and get him out of here, or maybe some kind of punishment, attacking Jak and making me watch.

Though what I could've done to piss the Precursors off THAT badly, I don't know. It was only some homework. I'm sorry I skipped it! And for TP-ing the entire teaching staff's houses….and for accidentally setting Moss-man's car on fire…

Seriously, that was totally an accident.

Either way, when the cell door began to close, and Jak's panicked eyes still kept hold of my own, no longer reassuring me, merely screaming that he was scared so scared and he needed to know I was still there, and I merely continued to watch until that last, fatal moment that the wooden door was closed, I realized that this…this was all real.

And nothing could stop me from screaming then.



He'd been missing for a week so far….

Every time I went to sleep, which was as often as possible around my schooling, he wasn't there. I couldn't help but feel panicked every time I had to deal with being awake for more than a few hours or so. What if they took him at that time and then I missed him because I was at school? No, I started taking sleeping pills at school during lunch time just because of the fact that as soon as I was unconscious I was whipped into that fucking cell.

And it almost became too much for me, the waiting. Waiting alone in that dark dingy cell, pacing sometimes, sitting on the floor, the only thing that didn't repel my body from it, at others. And a few times I even found myself trying to kick and punch everything, just because I was going insane with waiting, with questions. Would they bring him back, or was he already in another cell? Would he still be in one piece, or were they doing something horrible to him? Would he…would he be angry that I didn't try to help him? Would he hate me?

In some sense, I suppose it sort of felt like I was in the waiting room of a hospital, waiting for my wife to finish having our child. You just wanted it to be over so you knew that they were both okay… that they were alive and you could see them soon.

Except Jak wasn't a pregnant woman, I wasn't his husband, and this sure as hell wasn't a hospital waiting room.

"Daxter, sweetie-pie…you've been acting really odd all week, are you sure you're okay?" I raised my head slightly, irritated beyond words at the worried blonde in front of me.

It wasn't Tess' fault she'd woken me up, after all. I know I had been acting rather weird lately, and hey, ain't a big sister s'posed to worry about you? I just wish she'd picked a better time to voice this "Daxxie I'm worried about you, is everything okay?" moment.

"…Because if you're feeling sick or someone's picking on you, you really should tell m-" Oh dear, was I fading in and out of the conversation? Bad Dax, bad! Listen to your big sister! "-nyway, you think that'd be a good idea?"

…well concentrating went so good, huh?

"Uh…sorry, Tess…can you repeat that?" I said with a sheepish grin, propping my chin upon my hands. Tess pouted, slightly put off by my not listening to her –note to self; buy Tess something REALLY nice next time we get the chance- but complied with my request.

Cause she's just great like that.

"I said I think it'd be better if you just stayed home tomorrow. It's only Friday anyway, and you've been sleeping so much lately…maybe it'll help if you can sleep in and be a lazy boy for a few days, hmmm?" ….Have I told you about how GREAT my sister Tess is? Well, she's not really my sister; I don't have any family but she lets me stay in her apartment and pays for me to go to school, so she's close enough to it. But anyway, about how freaking fantastic she is…

"Tess I love you. I want to have your children." I think she noticed the obvious relief in my voice, because she beamed and hugged me tightly, showing my head into the cleft of her breasts in the process.

Just the way I like it.

"Awww, anything for my lil Daxxie-waxxie-poo! But really, if you're getting bullied, you should tell me, okay? I'll introduce them to my babies for messing with my big strong man!" Anyone else would've laughed at this statement, but me, knowing her babies were actually guns she'd created that usually resembled rocket launchers with sharp pointy things sticking out at the front, knew to keep my mouth shut.

"It's okay Tessie-baby; you know no one lives once they mess with the Daxinator! I'm just a little tired, is all." I gave her one of my grins, the childish, goofy one that everyone thinks makes me look absolutely adorable. I don't care; all I know is that it stops Tess worrying/asking more questions. Or both, when she decides to do the little bastards at the same time.

"Okay, well if you want you can go to bed and I'll wake you up for dinner in a little while!" She beamed, and off she went into the kitchen. Seriously, if there was one person I loved in this world, it was Tess. She was what a woman was supposed to be!

I decided against going to sleep until dinner; it was half an hour until six o'clock, and we always had dinner at six o'clock. ALWAYS. There could be a hurricane that damaged our apartment and stole all the food at 5.59 and Tess'd still have dinner on the table by six o'clock. So I decided against trying to get to sleep only to be woken up ten minutes after actually achieving it, and watched a good old cartoon instead.

And half an hour later found me chatting amicably -a.k.a non-stop through food and drinking beverage- to Tess about how, if I could be any cartoon character, I would be Danny Phantom, because he was just so damn cool.

For a little while, I forgot about the sleeping pills hidden in my school bag, I forgot about the science assignment that Peas-for-Nuts gave me to do before Monday, and enjoyed a little time to myself. I even forgot about Jak, having my nice little relaxing evening, sitting around with Tess and watching any random cartoons that came on.

It wasn't until my head hit the pillow and screams filled my ears that I realized what I'd forgotten.

Oh shit, Jak…

He was curled up in the corner, sobbing, screaming. He'd never used his voice in front of me before, but I couldn't help but think that if he wasn't screaming it'd probably sound pretty good. Looking him over, I noticed the large gashes on his arms, the dark purple patches of skin where there had not been dark purple patches before, and I felt sick.

Sick with myself.

"Jak…?" The screaming stopped, so did the crying. But the shaking continued as his whole body tensed at the sound of my voice. "Jak, what did they do-" He whirled round quickly, on his feet by the time he'd stopped turning to stare at me, and I recoiled.

His eyes, Jak's eyes, Jak's eyes were blue. Striking, gorgeous blue. Not black. Never soul suckingly mad and evil and hypnotically despairing. Never black.

Like they were now.

With a growl, Jak began to advance, and I noticed with a thrill of terror that he was glowing. Not angelically glowing, all white and gold and pretty-like, but evilly, vibrating with a purple-black smoke pulsating out of him. Dangerous, menacing, insane.

Oh Jak, what did they do to you?!

"J-Jak, it's me, you know, Daxter." I stuttered nervously as he drew closer. "You know, the kid who randomly pops out of nowhere to stumble around your cell. Red-headed, blue-eyed, buck-teethed Daxter. Ringing any bells?"

Of course he wouldn't ring any bells, not with my name at least. He'd never heard it before, so how would he possibly know it? He just growled and pushed me- yes, pushed me, as in touched. As in, he can touch me. Oh god, he can touch me. I am so dead- against a wall, hands crushing my arms brutally, leaving bruises that I prayed to the Precursors wouldn't show upon my actual body, staring at me with those bottomless pits known as his eyes, almost seeming animalistic in that way that he looked me up and down, grip becoming gentler on my arms, as if he knew that he knew me, but was still suspicious because he couldn't place it. I kept silent through the entire thing, staring him right in the eyes when he stopped examining me, smiling encouragingly and shrugging to show him that no, I couldn't really help.

And he knew me.

Slowly, he stood away, and I was repelled off the wall into him moments later. He caught me with a gentle hand upon my chest, steadying me immediately, eyes flickering black and blue, going from one to the other so quickly that I had to look away so I wouldn't get dizzy. When his hand was repelled from me suddenly, I looked back round again, surprised, to find Jak staring back at me. The real Jak.

Blue eyed, real Jak, who was staring at me pleadingly screaming in his own way that that WASN'T HIM and to forgive him for letting that MONSTER GET ME.

But I just smiled and shrugged shakily, hoping beyond all hope that those pricks of tears in my eyes didn't get any bigger, and that Jak wouldn't notice them. And like him, I said what I could in the simplicity of my own movements.

"No biggie." I shrugged. "I trust you."

And just like that, everything was okay. I spent around about fourteen hours sleeping, struggling against my body when it tried to wake and stubbornly telling myself I wanted to stay with Jak, who just stared at me in his oh so soothing way, looking like my own appearance was soothing him as well. That made me feel sorta good, that maybe he liked having me around as much as I liked being around him… though I wasn't sure if it was actually real or just me imagining things at the time.

But as almost two years passed, and that darkness I'd witnessed that day became even more apparent, changing Jak more and more every time I saw it come out, as they continued to torture him to make Dark Jak -as I'd jokingly dubbed it one day when faced with the beast, who had an apparent fondness for pinning me against walls- that much stronger, I realized, in my own way, that seeing me was pretty much to only thing that kept Jak going through the day.

I still refused to see it though, but the second person to come into our lives and screw it up that little bit more was there, even if he didn't mean to and neither of us really minded him that much anyway.

His name was Dark Jak, and sometimes, I even manage to convince myself that he needs me as much as Jak does.


(Jak's pov)

When I'd first seen him, I couldn't believe my eyes.

I'd been taken from my home by the men who had killed my family, and through the grief that racked through me it eventually became apparent that I was not going to be released from my prison any time soon. I had a bucket to go in that was emptied at the end of everyday, and a slop bowl that was filled at the start of every morning. Later on, when the experiments started, I learnt to save that slop for later, because eating before an experiment was a sure fire way to lose the food in a very painful transaction.

Thank the Precursors that they enjoyed brutally hosing me off at the end of every session, else I'd be covered in a variety of vomit, blood and god knows what else by now, instead of just many cuts and bruises that made Daxter seethe furiously.

But that's beside the point.

At the beginning, I struggled to keep myself in shape and mobile. I practiced daily, as best I possibly could with those god-awful chains constricting me. I would practice tirelessly until I was almost unconscious, before falling into uneasy dreams and waking up a mere few hours later and starting the exercises all over again.

But it wasn't long before the silence caught up on me. I was used to silence; I was mute after all, but there was never anyone around. The people who took care of me never bothered to speak, unless it was to tell me to "get yer stupid dumb ass outta my way, moron!"

I was smart enough to know that sanity could easily become a jaded creature when left alone. I couldn't even talk to myself, which made the silence that much more depressing. All I could do was sit, or sleep, or exercise. There was nothing else.

…I had to have been in there for a least a month or two by the time he first showed up. And at first, I wasn't sure he was even alive. It was just one of the guards, sneaking in a dead body whilst I was sleeping, just to torture me more. But no, he was alive, and surprisingly healthy looking, but it came obvious very quickly that I couldn't touch him, and that he wasn't conscious of my being there. At all.

His eyes were lidded into the smallest of slits, his body limp upon the ground, and he didn't respond to any sounds I made; clacking stones on the floor, the bucket, the tin bowl…

Until, with a small pop, he disappeared, and I fell back and wished I could scream because surely this was the sign that I was finally cracking. I spent hours convincing myself there had been no boy there; until he showed up again, exact same position as last time, again unable to register anything happening around him.

It would be a long time before I stopped telling myself I was insane, and he actually registered my being there.

His eyes were the first thing to show that he was becoming aware of me. They began to flicker with intelligence and life, and before long, those bright blue eyes were staring, fascinated, into my own equally fascinated ones. This would go on for hours, me and him staring at each other until he disappeared with a pop and I would exercise or sleep, the bitter taste of disappointment on my tongue.

It didn't take long from there till he was wandering around the cell, tripping clumsily like his appearance had suggested he would from the first time I saw him. Petite wiry frame handled with an awkward grace that would've made me laugh if I could. He knew I was laughing anyway; whenever one of those little "falls" would happen, he would stand up and glare at me, obviously saying that it was SO not funny.

But it just so was.

He became my almost constant companion, filling in my days by merely being there and keeping my sanity at bay. It was easy to become attached to him, and as soon as the pop happened I would miss him with a feverish ache that would only disappear as the scuffing of his shoes on the floor notified me of his return.

The day Erol took me away; I could tell that he had frozen. I couldn't tell what was going through his mind, but he was panicked, rooted to the spot and shaking oh so hard. That in itself almost drove me into insanity, when the door had closed, and I'd heard a muffled scream from the other side of it. But it also stopped me from breaking as I was strapped onto the table, and my first session began.

The pain was unbearable; it burned and ate through me constantly like wild fire, never cooling, never stopping, constantly throbbing and killing every other sense I had for what seemed like an eternity, and I constantly heard his scream as they continued their experiments, and all I wanted to do was kill them, kill them all so I could go back to my cell so he could see I was okay.

That was when something inside me woke up, and though I still knew what was going on, I wasn't in control. I knew I was breaking out of those chains, but it wasn't me. I knew those scientists were screaming because it was me, my hands shredding through their bodies and turning them into a tattered mass of blood and entrails on the floor. And I knew it was me who screamed savagely as I was hit from behind, knocked out cold for who knows how long before waking up in my slightly damp clothes in the cell that I was used to. And it was me who curled up and cried against the wall, wishing it would swallow me up so I didn't have to feel that pain ever, ever, again.

But it wasn't me. Because I could hear them, me, it…I could hear it, talking to me in my mind.

What did you do what did you do they hurt us I'm going to KILL them… It babbled on constantly, a kicked puppy that had razor sharp teeth and had been abused enough before to know how to bite back. And all I could think was 'who are you?' over and over and over, almost making it a contest within myself to make it me who was the loudest in my mind, that the growling puppy blackness was quieter and that I was louder and stronger and sane, oh so very sane-

"…Jak?" I froze, and so did he…it. They were back; they were going to hurt us more, they- "Jak, what did they do-"


He-it- wouldn't let them hurt us again. He rounded upon the intruder, pacing towards them, ignoring their nervous babble as he latched onto them and pushed them roughly against the wall.

You won't get me again, never again. We'll kill you first.

But he's so familiar…

And he was familiar; there was something about him I couldn't quite place, his small, petite, awkward body with hands and feet much to big for it, the shock of red-orange hair that changed to blonde the closer it appeared to his head, and the blue eyes that stared at me and said "I trust you but I'm scared…"

It was him.


No. Help.

I honestly meant that he helped us, but when he stumbled off the wall it had flung him into it had seemingly taken these words into consideration and caught him gently with one hand, righting him quickly and somewhat grudgingly before I was in control again, my hand jarring away as whatever magic that it had been allowing it to touch him stopped working.

And he looked up at me; his eyes filled with joy and relief, and told me everything was okay.

And it was with unspoken agreement that both me and it decided that he was worth any pain, even being put through our sessions, as long as he was there when we got back, or not soon after. In his own way, he kept me sane, and gave it- eventually named Dark Jak by Daxter, who repeated his name a few times after he and Dark's first confrontation- a gentler side, things that we both craved and treasured beyond everything else but Daxter's own existence.

So getting eaten by the wall was out of the question.


I hope you all like it; I went over it again and edited a few parts before putting it up, so hopefully there shouldn't be anything too horrible. I'd love to hear all your opinions in a review, and I'm more than happy to answer any questions asked.

Also, I'm in need of a BETA FOR MY STORIES. The person who originally did this chapter for me has a few problems making it impossible for them to continue this service, and I'm hoping that someone equally amazing will volunteer. Anyone interested should PM me and I'll get back to them as soon as possible.

Reviews make lemons grow.