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Description
(c) ForsakenLoner

What do I want...?

--

I just want to win, Jak. Just let me win. Just let me cross that line first, and I'll let you walk away with the trophy and the pass, if that's what you want. Maybe I'll even let you live long enough to pull down the bastard Baron. Even...even to take that racing mechanic you seem to like so much...
Who am I kidding? Even when...if I ever catch you, or get you in such a position, I know I can't kill you, Jak. I know it like I know what you think of me when you sneer, when your cold blue eyes find mine and they freeze over with anger.
You're...you take my breath away when you're angry.
I...I'm not myself, lately. I haven't been for the last two years, I think. Something about...blue eyes...I don't know.
Do you remember, Jak, how you used to be before I bled it out of you? Do you remember the way I used to stand, and stare at you through the bars of your cell, watching mesmerised as you slept, or rocked yourself? I do, Jak, I remember those blue eyes looking into mine, pleading and begging with me, your tormentor, not to take this away from you. And always so silent, Jak, never so much as a whimper to show your agony.
Did you know, Jak, I used to hate you?
I hated you so...much, you could call it a holy hate, I suppose. I hated that innocence that stared at me every time I pulled that lever, I hated the way you refused to scream even as you were arching off the table in agony. And most of all...I hated the way you made me feel guilty when you began to stare back through the cell bars. I hated the way that guilt slowly ate away my hate for you, because how can you hate something that ultimately is both your salvation and your downfall?
I guess a part of me still hates you for that, Jak, and more then likely it always will.
Your rat, your best friend, thinks that your first words were for him, doesn't he, Jak? Have you told him any different, I wonder? How the first words you had probably ever spoken...were for my ears? Your voice, cracked, hoarse, but already deep, as you reached through the bars to touch my face, and that one whispered word.
"Why?"
I think that night was the first in years I could not sleep peacefully, because I knew I had no answer.
Why, exactly? Maybe I can brush it away with the 'Just following orders' routine, but that doesn't cut it. That would just be insulting. To be honest, Jak? I was disgusted with the whole thing. It helped somewhat if I imagined the...subjects as things, no longer human. But...I couldn't do that with you. And that, I think, was my downfall. I didn't catch myself as I tripped, because I didn't even realise, back then, what it meant.
So what does all this ramble mean, Jak?
What do I want...? What...I don't know. I'm not even sure that he does. Why must things be so much clearer after you've made the wrong choice...?
Because if I could do it again, Jak, I would have run with you, escaped and rescued you and kept you safe.
But if I told you that...hah, you'd shoot me where I stand, Baron or no, because you hate me with that same hate I had for you, don't you?
Although they do say that love and hate are one and the same.
Ah, I was wondering when we would start. I pull up beside you on the starting grid. This'll be the race of our lives, won't it, Jakky-boy? I get ready to flip down my mask, but I pause, watching you as you lean over your bars, checking your speeder and then turning to your rat and smiling, telling him to hold on. I place a boot on the ground to steady myself as you prepare to lower your goggles - and then look at me.
For a second, our eyes lock, and I hold my breath as I watch your eyes darken slightly. I have to say something, or we're going to miss the start.
"I don't just want to win, Eco-freak." I hear myself snarl, although I don't mean the words that roll far too easily from my mouth as I flick my eyes briefly over you and unconsciencely lick my lips. "I want you." Your eyes widen slightly in surprise, as I'm sure mine do as well. You open your mouth as if to say something, but the Baron interrupts us, and before you can say anything I flip my mask down, switching back to the bloodied world of my dreams.
The eyes are red so that people think I am truely mad. I'm not.
And so...the race. The race...which I did not win. I did not...win. I stop my speeder in disbelief and raise my mask to take in the crowds...cheering for you. Shouting for you, screaming your name. My vision's blurry, and I know I'm crying as everything crashes and breaks around me. I...lost, on all counts, Jak. If I have one wish...as I raise my eyes and look at you, and then straight into the Baron's eyes...
I slammed my foot on the concrete, and you turn at the sudden noise that is swallowed in the silence as guns are aimed at your head, the order to fire hovering behind the Baron's lips as he waited to see what his insane Commander would do.
This way we both win, Jak.
"I win, Jak!" I twist the throttle like I'm wringing a chicken's neck, and the speeder screams its protest as it fishtails down the straight, kicking out clouds of smoke as I turned the bars round the corner, laughing despite the tears running down my face and aim...for the Eco barrels behind Jak and under the Baron. "We win..."
Bam.
--

Description
(c) ForsakenLoner

What do I want...?

--

I just want to win, Jak. Just let me win. Just let me cross that line first, and I'll let you walk away with the trophy and the pass, if that's what you want. Maybe I'll even let you live long enough to pull down the bastard Baron. Even...even to take that racing mechanic you seem to like so much...
Who am I kidding? Even when...if I ever catch you, or get you in such a position, I know I can't kill you, Jak. I know it like I know what you think of me when you sneer, when your cold blue eyes find mine and they freeze over with anger.
You're...you take my breath away when you're angry.
I...I'm not myself, lately. I haven't been for the last two years, I think. Something about...blue eyes...I don't know.
Do you remember, Jak, how you used to be before I bled it out of you? Do you remember the way I used to stand, and stare at you through the bars of your cell, watching mesmerised as you slept, or rocked yourself? I do, Jak, I remember those blue eyes looking into mine, pleading and begging with me, your tormentor, not to take this away from you. And always so silent, Jak, never so much as a whimper to show your agony.
Did you know, Jak, I used to hate you?
I hated you so...much, you could call it a holy hate, I suppose. I hated that innocence that stared at me every time I pulled that lever, I hated the way you refused to scream even as you were arching off the table in agony. And most of all...I hated the way you made me feel guilty when you began to stare back through the cell bars. I hated the way that guilt slowly ate away my hate for you, because how can you hate something that ultimately is both your salvation and your downfall?
I guess a part of me still hates you for that, Jak, and more then likely it always will.
Your rat, your best friend, thinks that your first words were for him, doesn't he, Jak? Have you told him any different, I wonder? How the first words you had probably ever spoken...were for my ears? Your voice, cracked, hoarse, but already deep, as you reached through the bars to touch my face, and that one whispered word.
"Why?"
I think that night was the first in years I could not sleep peacefully, because I knew I had no answer.
Why, exactly? Maybe I can brush it away with the 'Just following orders' routine, but that doesn't cut it. That would just be insulting. To be honest, Jak? I was disgusted with the whole thing. It helped somewhat if I imagined the...subjects as things, no longer human. But...I couldn't do that with you. And that, I think, was my downfall. I didn't catch myself as I tripped, because I didn't even realise, back then, what it meant.
So what does all this ramble mean, Jak?
What do I want...? What...I don't know. I'm not even sure that he does. Why must things be so much clearer after you've made the wrong choice...?
Because if I could do it again, Jak, I would have run with you, escaped and rescued you and kept you safe.
But if I told you that...hah, you'd shoot me where I stand, Baron or no, because you hate me with that same hate I had for you, don't you?
Although they do say that love and hate are one and the same.
Ah, I was wondering when we would start. I pull up beside you on the starting grid. This'll be the race of our lives, won't it, Jakky-boy? I get ready to flip down my mask, but I pause, watching you as you lean over your bars, checking your speeder and then turning to your rat and smiling, telling him to hold on. I place a boot on the ground to steady myself as you prepare to lower your goggles - and then look at me.
For a second, our eyes lock, and I hold my breath as I watch your eyes darken slightly. I have to say something, or we're going to miss the start.
"I don't just want to win, Eco-freak." I hear myself snarl, although I don't mean the words that roll far too easily from my mouth as I flick my eyes briefly over you and unconsciencely lick my lips. "I want you." Your eyes widen slightly in surprise, as I'm sure mine do as well. You open your mouth as if to say something, but the Baron interrupts us, and before you can say anything I flip my mask down, switching back to the bloodied world of my dreams.
The eyes are red so that people think I am truely mad. I'm not.
And so...the race. The race...which I did not win. I did not...win. I stop my speeder in disbelief and raise my mask to take in the crowds...cheering for you. Shouting for you, screaming your name. My vision's blurry, and I know I'm crying as everything crashes and breaks around me. I...lost, on all counts, Jak. If I have one wish...as I raise my eyes and look at you, and then straight into the Baron's eyes...
I slammed my foot on the concrete, and you turn at the sudden noise that is swallowed in the silence as guns are aimed at your head, the order to fire hovering behind the Baron's lips as he waited to see what his insane Commander would do.
This way we both win, Jak.
"I win, Jak!" I twist the throttle like I'm wringing a chicken's neck, and the speeder screams its protest as it fishtails down the straight, kicking out clouds of smoke as I turned the bars round the corner, laughing despite the tears running down my face and aim...for the Eco barrels behind Jak and under the Baron. "We win..."
Bam.
--