Jak and Daxter Just a bit of a Challenge

_Aah. I really like Sig. He's such a tough, yet nice dude. For some reason I can't explain, all my Sig-centric fics have been titled "Just a [something]", so if you like this one, you may like the others as well *shameless self-plug* _

_A good friend in the fandom (back in the glory days…) asked me years ago to write her a Sig/Jak fic. My first failed attempt was _Just a Good Night's Sleep_. This one follows that, though reading it isn't necessary. If I can get the shipping part done (which isn't easy for me, I admit, being a rabid Jak/Daxter shipper), it'll be in part two. This part is just about adventure and friendship. _

_I'm labeling it part one because I want to get the second part done as well, but it can stand on its own as it is, as well._

* * *

Part one

Despite the gravity of the situation, Sig had to allow himself a good chuckle. It did not happen often that he had a reason to laugh, and when one presented itself it felt good to run with it.

Daxter, however, did not seem amused at all despite the fact that he was the reason for this rare laughter.

"Yeah, so what?" he finally snapped, small foot tapping repeatedly against the grass. "I've watched the exit and not a single 'head has left!"

Sig coughed into his fist.

"He told me to guard the exit, not to wrestle any nasties trying to make it out!" Daxter shouted as he threw up his arms in exasperation.

At least for today, Sig decided that the ottsel could be spared a comment about what the word "guard" normally entailed. Besides, they probably should focus on the real issue here.

The wastelander gazed at the trees rising up below the heavily tried wall, amusement ebbing away.

Autumn already tinted the leaves in a deep yellow and red – at least, Sig hoped that it was only autumn. Haven forest looked peaceful enough at a glance. This despite the fact that just on the other side of that wall, twisted roots and thorns grew from what had been gardens, taking all their energy from oozing acid instead of water, earth and sun. There, metal heads thrived.

They had always seemed to take a liking to the forest as well, but it had never been much more than a nuisance before. Things had changed, though.

Like most people, Sig knew enough to feel respect for Samos the Sage. After all, he was the Shadow, the Green Sage. Which was why even the wastelander had felt disturbed when Torn contacted him to report that Samos had collapsed.

In these days of full-scale war against everything Erol could throw at whatever moved in poor old Haven, all of Samos' wit went to tactics – and all his powers went to keeping the people, the soldiers, the remains of the city, alive. For that, he used the powers of green eco – which he tapped from Haven forest.

The forest had been poisoned.

Sig knew of the dark eco plants, Jak and Daxter had both talked about them before. This was just worse than last time, much worse.

That was not why Torn contacted Sig. Considering the fact that the plants had to be countered with green eco, Jak was really the only one – like in many other situations, as may be grudgingly admitted – who could deal with that problem. If Samos had not actually liked the young hero more than he would ever admit, the old man would probably have been gnashing his teeth at the entire thing.

But Samos' collapse and the dark plants had only been the beginning of the trouble this time. Sig hadn't come here for that. He had been summoned because of the call Jak had sent to the Freedom HQ.

"_There's something wrong with the metal heads. I'll be here for a while."_

That was all, and despite a few attempts to call him back he had not answered. The communicator remained unreachable – not normally a concern, as nobody in his right mind went into battle with his communicator turned on. The last thing a soldier in the field needs is a machine that can suddenly burst to life and give away his position to who knows what.

Not normally a concern. This, however, went deeper.

Of course, Jak did not say that he may need backup. He would never say something like that.

But the simple fact that he called in at all, instead of just showing up back at the HQ, that spoke for itself. Torn and Ashelin waited an hour for another field report from Jak. Then they called in the heavy artillery.

Apparently Samos felt better, at least. So the plant problem had to have been taken cared of completely.

Getting through the city was a whole lot easier these days when the traffic was nearly non-existent. Even the metal head infested section posed no real problem if you stayed out of reach. Looking down at them from above, Sig had only grinned at the snarling, jumping monsters and silently promised them a fight for another day.

He could handle that with ease.

But walking through the ragged security doors, he had not been quite prepared to find Daxter perched on a tree branch, clutching a silent communicator – and Jak nowhere in sight.

That brought them to the explanation which had made Sig laugh in the first place.

"_Well, Jak told me to guard the exit while he went off to fight the beasties."_

The laughter was gone now.

"What was that about metal heads acting up?" Sig said, rolling his shoulders as he changed his grip of his peace maker.

"Ah… right."

Daxter held up the communicator and hopped onto Sig's shoulder armor as the wastelander bent down to take the device.

"Did they tell ya 'bout the black veggies sprouting all over?" Daxter said, then went on at the answering nod. "Well see, we've just cleaned 'em up before with no problem. Just that this time we found a bunch of metal heads eating the stuff."

Sig frowned. Granted that metal heads weren't a widely studied species, but he had never heard about them eating anything but raw – or still moving – meat before. He didn't like it at all.

"I couldn't see anything weird apart from that, but Jak said that they, err, _felt_ wrong." Daxter threw up his hands at this. "Which oughta mean anything between them hitting him harder or the eco he got from 'em acting up."

Sig clenched his teeth as a bad feeling rolled through him.

"Did you get 'em all, chili pepper?" he asked.

"I thought so, but that's why Jak ran off on his own," Daxter said, eying the trees. He was trying and failing not to sound nervous. "He said he saw a couple of 'em dash off, and he didn't want to risk either of them getting out. So I got to stay by the door."

"Hmm."

Sig nodded, and didn't say anything else.

He closed his normal eye so that he could focus better on what his mechanical one showed him. His world became entirely a clean-cut space of colors – mainly a dull green with all the trees. A few orange and yellow dots high up told him that there were still birds left, though they remained uneasily quiet. They very well knew better than to let out a squeak unless absolutely necessary.

But far, far off, there was something that moved, too distant to be anything but a yellowish speck. It may as well be a metal head or a bigger animal – though they were rare. At this distance Sig could not tell much from the movement than that something was alive over there.

The gut feeling told him to get moving.

"Let's rock," he said. Nodding, Daxter grabbed crouched and gripped the edge of Sig's armor for balance. The metal head skull was probably a bit more slippery than Jak's iron shoulder plate.

Sig set off, not even bothering to remain silent. It would have taken too long to sneak – the strange dot was heading further away. As long as he ran, Sig had to focus mostly on what his non-mechanical eye saw to avoid stumbling, but years of training made it easy to put part of his concentration into the computerized view.

Apart from the crunch of dry leaves and twigs under his boots, the only other sound was the rustle of the wind in the bushes and treetops. The forest appeared more dead than a rock in the wasteland, in a way.

Daxter remained oddly silent as Sig slid down slopes and leapt over fallen trees without pause. He only grumbled something half-heartedly about the forest needing an autumn cleaning after a while. There was not a moment, however, that he was not turning his head back and forth, shadowing his eyes as he scanned the woods for any sign of his best friend. Sig could have told him that the now orange spot was the only heat source close by, and big enough, to be Jak. Yet, that may just have sparked a fear that Jak wasn't radiating heat any longer.

Sig silently growled to himself. If Jak had gotten himself killed by a couple of Haven metal heads, Sig would give him the beating of his life. And Damas would deal with whatever was left.

And yet…

Sometimes, all it took was a single bullet or a stupid little stinger, and a case of bad luck. Nobody was invincible.

And as he and Daxter got closer and closer, Sig had to admit to himself that the blur didn't move like Jak. Too erratic and jumpy. Probably one of the metal heads that had run off.

He had not seen any other big heat sources during his run.

And metal heads only care about killing, and if they can't kill they do their best to hurt. They never run off – unless something tells them to, for some reason.

Sig came to a rough stop, swearing under his breath as he turned his head and glared towards the city.

"What? _What_?" Daxter blurted, stumbling over the short words.

No reply. Sig quickly turned away, hurrying on. He could be wrong, there was always a small chance that he was wrong.

But he didn't feel any better at all looking at the strange flower-like tower rising up from the metal head infested section of Haven. There was something in there that could tell the beasts what to do – something that wanted Jak in its crushing grasp. If this was all a trap, if Jak wasn't even in the forest anymore but somehow brought up there––

Sig pushed the thought away. He had to be sure. Then, if needed, he would get a few extra clips of peace maker bullets and bust through.

It wasn't like him to get worried without evidence of real danger. Jak may very well just be much further into the forest.

That was when Sig noticed that the blur had become red, and stopped moving away.

It had realized that it was being followed. Sig stopped, hushing at the near frantic Daxter, who surprisingly shut his yap immediately.

The wastelander frowned, studying the blur as well as he could. Now it was close enough to be a shape, red in the middle, then melting outwards into orange, yellow and on to green around the borders. It seemed to be hunching, making it hard to make out the real shape like this. But still…

Half the tension carefully untangled. Only half of it, though, because the thing that suddenly broke through the bushes ahead of Sig and Daxter, that thing wasn't really Jak.

"Aw, hell…"

Sig sighed and leant the peace maker against a tree. He wouldn't want to fry this prey to kingdom come. Daxter let out a groan.

It just figured, really. Daxter had probably not been lying when he said that Jak told him to guard the exit from metal heads. It was just like Jak to not want to worry his friend.

Daxter had probably known the truth, though. He just didn't want to admit to anyone, not even himself, that he may not be keeping an eye out for metal heads trying to get back into the city.

From the look of things, when Jak said that something wasn't right, he had meant that the eco left by the vegetarian monsters felt odd. It was hardly the first time Sig saw the youngster in his dark form, but it looked a lot worse than usual.

Jak hunched low enough to lightly rip at the grass with his claws – more like black daggers, stinging darkness against the bright yellow and green grass. His horns followed the same theme, bending back over his head more than usual, the edges razor sharp.

The worst thing was the tongue, however – hanging out and down between white fangs, thinning and sharpening, grotesquely long.

Despite all that, the emotion that Sig felt the most was relief. At least Jak hadn't been killed or captured. He was just really, really far gone, as proven by the fact that he did not react to Daxter calling to him. Black eyes just stared, suspicious, enraged. He withdrew half a step, eyes thinning – it was impossible to tell whether he would attack or rush off to plan another way of getting at the intruders.

Maybe Jak didn't know either.

Regardless, they had to get him back from where he was now.

Sig rolled his shoulders, prompting Daxter to look at him. The wastelander did not take his eyes off Jak, however.

"Get up there, chili pepper," Sig said, nodding aside at a nearby tree with low hanging branches. "I'll take care of him."

Daxter hesitated for a moment, but then he sighed.

"Don't you bend a hair on his head, or I'll smack you into the next century," he warned. Then he leapt up and grabbed a branch, quickly clambering onwards up and out of reach.

Moving his legs a little further apart, Sig bent his arms and beckoned to the hissing beast with two fingers.

"Let's dance, cherry," Sig murmured, twisting his mouth into a cocky smile – though smiling was the last thing he felt like doing.

It worked, however. Even like this – or maybe especially so, because his emotions were hypersensitive – Jak could not turn down an open challenge. The tongue withdrew into the mouth, leaving only two rows of sharp teeth as the hiss became a growl. The cloth of his ragged tunic and the belts of his armor strained against the unnaturally swelling muscles.

Sig held his ground, steeling himself for what he saw coming. Because of that Jak failed to knock the air out of his friend's lungs when he crashed into Sig – instead the wastelander moved with the force of the attack and dragged Jak along to the ground.

They rolled, and Jak was too eager to draw blood, or too dizzy with the eco, to plan for such a thing. It wasn't like fighting a human. Jak didn't move like a human anymore, twisting and slashing like a cornered beast. Wanted to get away.

Pitch black eyes stared hatred at the wastelander, hardly blinking, nothing but their shape belonging to Jak.

Then Sig managed to get on top and the darkness widened suddenly, snarl deepening, and there was something more than an animal again. Daxter shrieked a warning.

Sig didn't have time to care. He noticed the young man and the ottsel's reactions, but all his strength and focus went into stopping Jak. A dark, strong hand caught a pale, flailing wrist.

"Jak!"

He got hold of the other wrist, at the same time twisting one of his legs to lock across Jak's, pinning the dark creature to the ground. Pale lips drew back from sharp white teeth, not in a growl this time.

"Calm!"

Putting all his weight behind it, Sig forced Jak's wrists into the soft grass, on either side of his head.

"Down!"

Fear.

It took a second before it registered, because the look was so alien on that face. Especially when it was pale grey and twisted.

But by the time Sig realized that, he was already sailing through the air.

He hit the ground hard and rolled instinctively, but clumsily. Disoriented, blinking to clear his vision from the jumping spots. Some part of him remained lucid enough to wonder how the hell Jak had managed to throw him off at all, and with such force.

He had never fought Dark Jak before, and seldom seen his friend fight like that. Sig couldn't tell if this kind of strength was normal.

Anything resembling such thoughts shattered when the heat vision in his mechanical eye flared up a picture of the demon descending upon him, claws first. Instincts acted long before Sig's brain did, and his arm came up in defense.

The claws shot downwards, but then suddenly seemed to lurch. Jak's hands slammed into the armor piece on Sig's forearm, claws clattering against metal head bone. Shaken by his own broken force Jak staggered, then recoiled even as Sig winced at the sting running through his arm.

Nothing broken and no blood, but he would feel that later.

He was back on his feet before Jak had time to get his bearings straight again. The black eyes stared at him again, thin with fury.

Sig glared right back, but the memory of that stumble in the attack sat firmly in his mind. He moved his feet further apart to prepare for another attack, but made no motion to lash out himself. It thinned the black eyes further, suspicious.

That was when Daxter dropped down from a tree branch, landing on Jak's shoulder. The sudden but familiar weight swung the crazed young man's entire frame and he staggered again, snarling hoarsely. With his small eyes wide open Daxter clung to the white hair, shouting Jak's name straight into his ear.

The demon shook his head, thrashed, but Daxter held on. A couple of quick steps was all it took to bring Sig within reach, taking advantage of Jak's confusion. This time, the older wastelander took a careful, but still firm, grip of Jak's arms just beneath his shoulders.

"Cherry!"

He gave a small shake, just enough to rattle. Jak blinked wildly, shaking his head. His arms twisted, but there was no raw force behind it anymore – he was hesitating.

"It's us, Jak! Snap out of it!" Daxter shouted for the umpteenth time.

This time, it finally made something click. A violent shudder tore through Jak and his head rolled back, mouth open in a hoarse snarl. But as the growl faded, the young man's legs gave out under him.

He would have fallen, but Sig held him up. The wastelander sunk onto his knees instead, lowering Jak's crumbling form along. The pale arms that had been able to send a huge man in full armor flying just a minute ago slumped in the dry grass, unmoving. After all that violence, the passivity felt unreal.

Jak's head tipped back, neck bending against the armor piece on Sig's arm. The pressure stung against what would soon be a bruise, but Sig didn't even wince. He gave another light shake, seeing as the man in his arms seemed dangerously close to losing consciousness.

"Jak? Jak!"

Daxter's voice hit a high note, small hands slapping down on a pale cheek. The eyelids over the black eyes fluttered, but a blue tint sparkled up behind the darkness. With another shudder and a crackle of dark eco, the pale color of Jak's skin and hair melted away into tan and warmly blond-green. He slumped even heavier against Sig, muscles melting back into normal size while the claws and horns grew backwards and disappeared.

When Daxter called to him again, calmer though still worried, Jak sluggishly turned his head to look at the ottsel. A tiny smile twitched in the corners of the blond man's lips. He glanced up at Sig, trying to smile again at the stern, worried look he got.

Then, with a deep sigh Jak closed his eyes and completely slumped.

Sig bit back a curse, quickly tearing off the glove of his right hand. He licked two fingertips and reached down to hold the hand close to Jak's lips and nose. The fluttering chill of breath calmed him a little bit.

The wastelander moved his fingertips to Jak's throat, pressing lightly to check for a pulse. Just making sure. The trained motion was a little clumsier than he had expected, something the wastelander pushed out of his mind with adrenaline as an excuse. He could still feel his own heartbeat to the tip of his ears, and it took a couple of seconds before he became sure that it wasn't his own, but Jak's pulse, he felt against his fingers. A racing heartbeat, but steady. Sig's shoulders relaxed.

He finally glanced at Daxter, who gave him a knowing grin. It wasn't until then that Sig realized that the ottsel actually hadn't been shrieking bloody murder about Jak loosing consciousness. Apparently the little guy had more faith in his best friend's health than others. He did, however, absentmindedly rub a tiny hand against Jak's temple.

Sig refrained from commenting. Instead he gently put Jak down on the ground, turning him over on his side so that he wouldn't choke on his own tongue. This earned a half-hearted protest from Daxter as it forced him to back off, but he returned promptly to massage Jak's forehead.

With the ottsel's soft mutterings to unheeding ears in the background, Sig grabbed his own communicator from his belt and dialed Freedom HQ. Torn's face showed up on the tiny screen almost immediately.

"I've got the boys," Sig said before the question needed to be asked. "They're fine, but Jak's outta it. How's the old man doing?"

Torn frowned slightly at the not too respectful calling of Samos. He let it slide, however.

"He got up a little while ago, and says that the forest is well again." A brief, annoyed pause. "Now he insists on going there, though. We'll be right over."

Sig raised an eyebrow, but refrained from commenting on what a bad idea that sounded like. He felt quite sure that everyone else in the HQ had already raised their concerns – there was little he could add to that.

"Roger that," he just said. "Over and out."

The screen went blank as he pushed the beacon button. Whatever people Samos came along with, they could pick up the signal as soon as they got close enough.

After putting the communicator back, Sig returned his attentions to Jak. Daxter had already begun trying to wake up the blond, poking him on the cheek and softly calling at him to rise and shine.

Jak stirred slightly, but didn't open his eyes. When Sig touched his shoulder, Jak muttered something and rolled over on his other side.

A moment of surprise passed, then Daxter and Sig exchanged glances as the truth dawned on them.

He wasn't unconscious. Jak was asleep.

At this realization Daxter snorted, grinning from ear to ear. Sig smiled along for a second, but then a thought struck. He'd never seen or heard the duo say anything about Jak collapsing into snores after a case of eco rage. Collapse by the usual meaning of the word, sure, but fall asleep?

What had he been doing?

The wastelander got to his feet and stepped around Jak, walking closer to the thick shrubbery from which Dark Jak had emerged minutes before. With the armor protecting his arm from twigs, Sig easily pushed enough branches aside to see beyond the bushes.

He allowed himself a disbelieving sound, scratching his chin.

"Whoooa, baby," Daxter said, suddenly back on Sig's shoulder. "Samos ain't gonna like this."

No, the sage probably wouldn't.

There was a slight slope downwards past the bushes, and a very messy grove spread out in the small valley. It had not been messy before Jak got there. Entire trees – though young ones – laid on the ground, sliced through by black claws. Slabs of roughly cut tree trunks could even be seen spread out like big coins.

Other trees still stood, but instead bore deep cuts in their bark. Thick sap bled from these wounds, glistening against the dark wood. If Sig squinted, he could see where the claws had sliced into a few mossy rocks as well.

Jak seemed to have had a heyday. One could only be glad that he hadn't been going crazy on anything else. It seemed pretty stupid then, any kind of worry about the wild kid's safety.

It suddenly struck Sig that Jak must have been tired out when the two of them fought.

Ouch.

He pushed the thought aside and went back to the sleeping young man. Daxter hopped onto the ground beside his friend and started babbling, obviously not really caring if he had an audience that actually listened or not. Probably just a way to get rid of the last shreds of tension.

Sig went to pick up his peace maker before he sat down to wait for Samos, leaning his chin on a fist as he studied the ottsel and the man in the grass.

Now, he thought about an attack that suddenly didn't want to connect. A wry, and pleased, smile briefly touched his lips. He had something to look forwards to, to tell Jak.

It did not last long enough, however, as the memory went further back in the fight. Sig's smile died, replaced with a frown. He hadn't been prepared for Jak's reaction to being pushed down.

That was something he did _not_ look forwards to talking about.

The thoughts took turns during the wait. Finally a blue air train came zooming over the wall, and during that time Jak did not stir even once. Sig stood up to wave, catching sight of the driver waving back in acknowledgement. However there was not enough space to land where the trio had been waiting, and the air train continued a little ways forwards to a nearby clearing.

"Eh, let 'em come to us," Daxter said when Sig moved as if to lift Jak from the ground. "Mossman will probably give us an earful if we move the goods before he says it's okay."

Within a couple of minutes, the Sage did come towards them, followed by four soldiers in blue armor. Sig chose to lean against a tree with his arms folded over his chest – looking too calm to seem a direct threat, but remaining close enough to Jak to spell a clear warning.

It was his firm opinion – and Daxter had voiced it too, with Jak nodding grim approval – that if the army wanted to pull off a friendlier attitude they should lose the masks too, not only change color. If they still felt the need to remain a faceless throng, then Sig felt no need to like them any better than he had while working for Krew.

Any of these men may have been the ones who were in on dropping Jak in the desert to die. Most of them were probably ex-KGs, too.

Samos moved through the forest surprisingly quick for a man his age and size – and choice of footwear. Still, his face did seem a little more pale green than usual, and he did actually lean on his staff, as testament to him being sick just a little while ago.

He headed straight over to Jak, only sparing a grateful glance at Sig – and an even briefer one for Daxter – before bending over the sleeping warrior. A small green hand reached out, eco fluttering at the fingertips.

Unasked, Daxter started giving the report – cutting the fight down to nothing but a few growls. He obviously did not want to talk about any habits of not recognizing friends, while the soldiers could listen.

Finally Samos nodded and straightened up.

"I must assume that when the metal heads ate the dark eco plants, it did something to the eco already stored within their bodies. From the look of things…" Samos glanced in the direction of the ruined grove. Uncanny, since he had not taken one look at it before. "… It was probably intensified. Jak did the right thing in exhausting whatever got into his body."

The old man grunted, rolling his eyes.

"Amazing that he would think of that," he added, but the sarcasm did not sound quite malicious. He looked at the sleeping young man again. "Regardless, it also exhausted _him_. All he needs is to rest, however."

Sig moved to lift Jak up, without thinking throwing a suspicious glance at the Freedom soldiers. He looked away just as quick, but he didn't feel ashamed. Havenites, and red armor painted blue. Despite knowing they should be trustable, Sig still didn't dig the idea of them hauling Jak off.

And he also doubted Jak would dig that idea either, if he was awake. Either way, the driver of the air train had turned off the engine. They weren't planning to leave anytime soon.

Nobody noticed Daxter's lips twitching approvingly.

"Should I take him to the HQ?" Sig said, standing up in his full height with Jak safely in his arms, before anybody could get any other ideas.

He felt a little disturbed when Samos floated up from the ground and hovered high enough to look him in the eye. He wasn't used to people being able to face him straight ahead.

"I would normally say that that is the best course of action," Samos said, serious as he turned to look at Jak's peaceful face. "Yet I would urge caution in this situation."

Sig raised an eyebrow, as did Daxter even as he clambered up the wastelander's armor to get to his shoulder. Samos shook his head.

"Ironic as it is, considering what happened a few months ago," the sage said, "Jak has once again become the city's symbol of hope. If people get into their heads that he is mortally wounded, there will be a panic."

Havenites.

Sig suppressed an urge to roll his eye, but he could see the logic. As the situation was right now, the main thing keeping people and soldiers at somewhat good hope and in sound morale was the knowledge that their old hero was fighting for their (damn ungrateful) hides. And as tense as everyone was in these times, it would not take much to trigger a mass hysteria.

"If he cannot walk into the HQ on his own, we should keep him out of sight until he can," Samos said.

"I'll take care of it," Sig said, changing his grip slightly.

"_We_ will take care of it," Daxter corrected, standing squarely on Sig's shoulder panzer with his arms decisively crossed.

Samos ignored the ottsel, and nodded while looking at Sig only.

"I leave the matter to you then. I know that he's in good hands."

With a nod Sig turned around and made his way towards the gate. The two-seater zoomer he had gotten there with would be waiting in the safety area between the forest and the metal head garden.

Jak slept on.

"Thanks, Siggy," Daxter suddenly said.

The soft, serious tone made Sig look up in slight surprise, but the ottsel wasn't looking at him. He had turned his head to gaze back towards the place were the air train was parked, soft orange brow furrowed. After a moment he looked down at Jak's peaceful face instead.

Sig didn't say anything, but nodded back at Daxter with the shadow of a wry smile.


End file.

Jak and Daxter, Friendship, Hurt-Comfort