Jak And Daxter Fan Fiction ❯ Red Hot ❯ Day Two ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Jak. Make the dogs back down, please!

Red Hot

Day Two

There was something wrong with her, she just knew it.

It took Ashelin almost an hour to get to sleep after she noticed that Torn had already dropped off. It wasn’t because she was stressed or watching for danger, nothing like that; her training hadn’t done a thing the entire time, let alone kept her alert. It was, perhaps, a fatal kind of mistake, but she couldn’t help it.

As soon as she caught on to his heavy breathing, she realized he had really gone to sleep. And then, while looking at him, the worst thought penetrated her mind that she ever could have considered. She wanted to touch him.

Despite all the mental protests she gave to such an idea, her mind just kept throwing more reasons at her why she should. First and foremost, he was definitely attractive, even if she couldn’t quite place why. Second, she had a perfect chance to actually feel a man’s chest, which is something that had held a certain constant curiosity in her mind. She had seen so many men, muscled and strong, from lean to bulging, and it had always held interest to her, how it would feel to touch.

She bit her lip, struggling against the urge to crawl over to him. Third, her thoughts continued, he was in no danger, was he? There were in the desert, hidden from the city’s eyes. Her father would never know.

He would never know.

Her mind repeated that, making her give in. Her father wouldn’t know, Torn wouldn’t know; she would keep this event to herself, and anything she discovered from it. Thinking of it like that, it sounded so harmless, so justified. It was to satisfy her own curiosity, harming no one.

She made a mental chant of these thoughts, pushing her on as she neared him. Even his pose was perfect, and she chewed on her lip thinking about it. He was on his back, hands clasped under his head, his jacket open. It was like he was asking specifically for her to do this, though she knew better than to believe that.

Now next to him, she did her best to control her breathing, to keep herself calm. It wouldn’t do to get excited, now would it? The last thing she wanted was for him to wake up because she got too grabby or had shaking hands. It was hard enough making herself move at this point, so close to him that she could feel his body heat.

With more than a little apprehension, she touched his stomach lightly, being careful to use only her fingertips. She was watching his face earnestly, hoping with everything she had that he wouldn’t stir. And when he made no move, showed no signs of waking, she grew a tiny bit bolder. She pressed her hand more fully against his stomach.

Nothing.

Releasing a heavy breath, she decided she could go a bit further. Wetting her lips, she traced a fingertip across the muscles she found, learning quickly how fit he really was. Even in his sleep, those muscles were hard. She found herself liking it very much.

Then he made a noise, a sound that was half a moan and half a grunt. She snatched her hand back and made to retreat, ready to start praying that he wouldn’t actually wake up. The Precursors, she found, were listening. All he did was shift a bit, not even switching positions.

Like he was still waiting, still asking for her touch. She chastised herself for the thought, knowing better than to believe in whimsical things. He was innocently asleep, and she was likely giving him happier dreams.

And at that thought, she had to look, almost angry with herself for realizing it. She sighed hard when she spied his crotch, noting that he wasn’t aroused -- or at least not enough to be noticed. That thought, too, made her want to slap herself.

But now she wanted to make him aroused, to see if she could with just a few touches. Since when was she perverted like this? She wondered about it for only an instant before giving in to the wicked thoughts. He had teased her today, poked fun at her, even ogled her. What was the harm in paying him back, even if he didn’t know she caused it? Hell, that made it even better, that he’d awake hard and have no one to blame.

She bit back an evil kind of chuckle, reaching out to him again. With a bit more confidence and some mischief, she used both her hands, trailing her fingertips along his chest as well as his stomach. He gave a groan, but again only shifted slightly. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear that was pleasure on his face.

She grinned, licking her lips again. Her fingers found his ribs, the lines of his muscles, traced along the pulse in his neck. She noted with satisfaction that his heart was going faster, then pressed a little harder as her hands continued exploring. One hand, almost against her will, became bold enough to follow his abs under his belt.

The groan he gave then was louder than before. Even so, she wasn’t spooked, pulling her hand back and enjoying how his lips parted to breathe quicker. One of her fingers traced along his bottom lip, and at that point she realized just how close she was leaning to him.

Almost close enough to kiss that mouth.

Now she felt spooked, pulling back fast enough that she felt a rush of cold air against her. Hardly able to believe any of this had actually transpired, she darted back to the other side of the fire, to her side of the cave. She made her jacket into a pillow, wrapped herself in the blanket, and laid down pointedly with her back towards him. She felt like curling up, as though it would stave off the thoughts driving through her mind.

She had to like him, to get that close, to touch him like that. Even now she could feel the warmth of him on her palms, as though she had never moved away. Okay, so she’d always thought him attractive, but really, she was mad at him. Wasn’t she? He had ogled her.

And in retaliation, she felt him up in his sleep?

She sneered, though it was aimed at herself. How stupid could she get, she wondered. Thinking she liked him when she didn’t; everything about him angered her. She could hardly accept that he had a higher rank than her, let alone that he was truly superior in skill.

She drifted to sleep much later, feeling like she had stayed up several hours, simply arguing with herself. Did she like him, or hate him? Certainly it couldn’t be both. Right?

- - - - -

When Torn woke up, he found himself facedown. That was annoying in itself, just because now he knew that there had to be bits of dirt and sand stuck to his cheek. With a huff of exasperation, he pushed himself up, noting the light on the cave wall. With a glance towards the entrance, he found it was early morning. Then he got up, dusted off, and took stock of the situation.

The fire had died, nothing appeared moved, and Ashelin was still asleep. She had her back facing him. For a moment he considered waking her up, but he didn’t know when she had gone to sleep. Deciding to take a look, at least, he crossed over to her.

She definitely looked tired, he noted. That meant she had either stayed up late, or she’d gotten more than a little worn out from yesterday’s trek. Whichever it was, she didn’t look like she was going to be getting up anytime soon. Even so, they had little choice; you couldn’t linger in any way or form during the daytime out here. It was far too easy to get in trouble when you did so.

Since he was up to keep watch, he’d just wake her up a little later, he decided. Going back over to his pack, he dug inside and plucked out another of the few apples he’d brought. He bit into it as a way to hold it while he repacked the things in a certain order. Then, finished with that, he got up, finishing his bite as he went towards the entrance once more.

It was time to scout around. Yesterday had been damn lucky for them, having spotted wastelanders once but remained unnoticed by them. He couldn’t imagine them going another day without an incident, regardless of how much he’d rather not get caught by anything. Two against who-knows-how-many was never good odds.

He knew this area more than well enough to know some good hiding places, how to get back, and certain spots further out that were beneficial. Even so, you never knew what would be infested or taken over by something else on a day-to-day basis, let alone three months later -- his last previous visit here. Scouting further out, he decided to take a good look around without leaving the cave containing a sleeping Ashelin out of sight for even a moment.

Having his attention split between looking ahead and behind was a little stressing, but he returned about a half hour later feeling good. So far, none of the places he planned to visit were particularly dangerous, or at least, not that could be spotted from a distance. As he came back and saw Ashelin still asleep, he wondered if now would be a good time to wake her. They couldn’t stay in one place entirely too long, anyway; especially not in daytime.

She seemed to choose then to wake up as it was. He was just approaching her to shake her awake when she shifted, moving to lay on her back. The kind of moan she gave definitely suggested she was getting up, but it also sounded a bit too sweet to his ears. He wondered if she’d make that same sound or something different when in passion.

He almost slapped himself. Now was not the time to be thinking anything remotely like that. Skirting his path to go back to his side of the cave, he took a seat and waited for her to get up. When she finally opened her eyes, looking around, he was essentially staring at her. It was impulsive on his part, but she looked damn sexy as she woke up; stretching, almost writhing, and the little sounds she made. . !

Every minute he spent around her, it seemed, she just got more yummy. Those were stupid, misplaced thoughts, yet he couldn’t stop them. Oh yeah, he admitted, he wanted her. Enough so that he thought things about her he wouldn’t say to her face because it’d just end up with him getting beat by her, and he knew it. Enough so, he added mentally, that he dreamed of her.

He looked away before she glanced his way, surprised by that thought. He’d dreamed about her. . ? As he thought it over, he realized that he had. What an intense dream it had been, too; her hands on him, feeling him over, boldly reaching into his pants and kissing him. And later, further into the sequence --

He cleared his throat, getting her attention as it distracted himself. “Refreshed?” he asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound any rougher than it usually did.

She glared at him. At least that was like her. “You?” she returned smoothly.

He couldn’t help his smirk, despite trying to battle it down. “Yeah.” He got to his feet, dusting off his backside. Though he tried not to, he had to glance at her again. Was it just him, or did her eyes head down for an instant, before she looked off in another direction?

If she had really just ogled him, he hoped she’d stop it soon. It was enough knowing she had scoped him out yesterday when he’d been bare-chested, giving him thoughts that she just might like him. If she kept on doing things like that, then by the end of the week, he’d definitely make a move on her, if not sooner.

For a moment he wanted to attack himself physically, a last, desperate solution to stopping the things he was thinking about. Finding his voice, he said, “As soon as you’ve eaten, we’re leaving. Be quick,” he added, getting a little worried about just how long they’d been here. It was a small cave, he knew, compared to some of the others he’d found -- but only the smaller ones were devoid of dangerous life forms.

He saw her give him another glare, angrily doing as he said by rummaging through her pack and withdrawing a handful of dried meat. Then, he noted, she pointedly ignored him as she ate, multi-tasking as she also dusted off then put away her blanket, donning her jacket almost at the same time. She was definitely quick, he thought, watching how she worked. He hadn’t realized it before. Everything she did seemed to end abruptly after it began.

And don’t follow that train of thought, he told himself fiercely.

She walked towards the entrance, still chewing the last bits of her jerky, and for a stunned moment he couldn’t figure out why she was leaving without her pack. “Where are you going?” he all but snapped.

She tossed him a glare. “To relieve myself.”

In other words, to go pee, he told himself. “Not alone,” he argued. True, he’d gone while scouting about, but then men didn’t have to fiddle with their pants much before going. It would take too long and it was too far into the day to be alone.

She regarded him with disbelief. “Well, you’re not coming,” she shot back, “so I guess I am.”

Did he really have to explain this? “What’s wrong, little girl? Shy?” At her glare, he went on, “You can’t go out there alone.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I can’t figure out if you’re just trying to be difficult or not.”

He lifted his hands defensively. “I’m trying to keep you out of danger.”

“Which is why you brought me out here in the first place,” she retorted smartly.

He noted immediately that she quit saying “we” and “us,” quit trying to refer to herself as part of a troop. Apparently she finally accepted that it was just the two of them. He wanted to sigh at what she’d said, but instead chose to fight her. “You want to be caught by a wastelanders with your pants down? It does happen.”

At first she had an understanding expression, and then she cocked an eyebrow in interest. “Has it happened to you?” she asked.

He didn’t want to answer that. Grumbling mentally, he replied, “For men it’s easy to stop in the middle and be ready to retaliate. I think it’d be tougher for women.”

“You obviously don’t know women well,” she shot back. Still, she blew out a sigh, lifting a hand to play with her hair a moment, looking deep in thought. He waited until she agreed, finally saying, “Fine, but if I catch you looking --”

He made a face. “Let me interrupt right there and say ‘no.’ That. . .won’t happen.”

The way she regarded him then was like she was sizing him up, as though trying to determine just how much she could trust him. “Okay then, mister know-it-all. Know any hidden places to go?”

“Actually, yes,” he answered, moving to go ahead of her.

The entire event took a lot longer than he would’ve guessed. This was entirely because, once a spot had been chosen, he was apparently not far enough away, even with his back turned. And then, once she accepted the distance, it was as if she could sense whenever he turned his head more than forty-five degrees, since it was always then when she shouted for him to not look, repeatedly at times.

The most frustrating part was that he was already trying hard to ignore any sounds he would hear from her direction while keeping a lookout, which she continually made that much more difficult by snapping at him every few seconds. He was ready to abandon the whole endeavor and leave her there when he heard the sounds of buckling her belt.

He nearly counted his blessings that it was over. Next time she had to go, he decided, he wouldn’t be a lookout.

- - - - -

Okay, so she’d overreacted. She understood that well. But she couldn’t help panicking; she’d been raised far, far away from men. And given some of the stories she heard of what happens when a man wants a woman, she’d honestly been paranoid the entire time. Sure, she’d been relatively cool beforehand, when they were just talking. Yet once they’d gotten outside and were actually scouting out a spot for her to go. . .

It’d been incredibly difficult, too. The whole thing had her nerves on high-alert, making her involuntarily freak out every time he even slightly moved. Now that it was over and done with, she decided that next time, she’d go alone, regardless of what he said.

They returned to the cave to pick up their packs, and then she was following after him again. He warned her before they began that talking would be a bad idea, so she bit her lip on every comment, complaint, and insult that came to mind. When they were stopped, she decided, she could give him an earful. Luckily, though, not talking meant she wouldn’t say anything silly or embarrassing that would eventually lead to an argument about this morning’s. . .event.

She rubbed her eyes, having a bit of trouble grasping time. She thought they’d been walking for about half an hour, pausing every so often to either rest in a bit of shade or scout ahead. She didn’t even realize she was lagging behind a bit until he paused again, looking back at her.

“You have to keep closer than that,” he told her sternly. It was like listening to her father.

She stuck her tongue out at him, childishly. “Yes, sir,” she replied without sincerity.

Torn just rolled his eyes and kept going. Still, she knew it would be stupid to fall behind too much. So she stepped up her pace for a moment, so she was closer than before.

Close enough, she noted, to get a good look when he shed his jacket. Damn him. The sun definitely looked higher, she saw, trying to look elsewhere than in front of her. It was then that she saw, far into the distance, a glimmer. Which could easily be a mirage conjured by the heat. She was just about to write it off as such when she remembered what he’d said before -- that a glimmer could always mean danger.

“Torn,” she said now, looking towards him. When he paused to look back, she added, “What do you think that is?” while gesturing it with a nod.

When she looked back at him, he was searching for what she’d seen, even coming back to see from her point of view. Then he abruptly changed moods altogether. He grabbed her arm and pulled.

“Go over there,” he said in a rushed whisper, essentially driving her in the direction they’d been traveling. He was close behind her when she did so, and though she understood there had to be something dangerous out there, she didn’t much like being pushed about.

So she threw him a glare as she moved quickly, stumbling as he stopped her by kneeling and pulling her down with him. Now they were both crouched behind a large boulder, which was shady enough but not necessarily practical in her mind. She wondered what he saw during that moment when she wasn’t looking, but only briefly.

It took a few more seconds, and then she could hear a kind of rumbling. It didn’t sound like a group of something galloping by, though; that sound was clearly mechanical. It was an engine.

Wastelanders.

She bit her lip, thinking over her training, trying to come up with a strategy in case they were found. As the rumbling drew closer, she felt her throat go dry. She hadn’t a clue what to do in this situation, other than to draw her pistol and hope it helped. Hardly believing she was actually depending on the man next to her, she glanced over at him questioningly.

He looked back after a moment, then lifted his pistol in a sharp gesture. When he nodded, she did so as well, understanding him; they were going to fight.

She’d never been in a real firefight before. She’d practiced plenty, but practice isn’t the same thing as live danger. Granted no one would ever claim that a Crimson Guard’s training was free from danger, however out here there weren’t any medical personal waiting in case you were seriously hurt.

Out here, you could easily die.

Her insides froze completely. The vehicles came around the rock with her just sitting there, utterly terrified. Wastelanders spotted them and attacked, but even then she couldn’t kick into motion. Her mind simply kept repeating itself: you could die, you could die, you could die -- die. . .

Torn grabbed her arm at some point between when the Wastelanders opened fire and before he started to return it, apparently noticing her inability to do anything. He shoved her roughly further around the rock, and she lost sight of him. She managed to scramble backwards until she was fully pressed to the rock face, then covered her ears as best she could against the gunfire she could hear -- dropping her weapon in the process.

Moments or hours later, she would find herself staring in disbelief at a slightly wounded but still strong Torn, who looked absolutely disappointed in her. Other than him holding his bleeding arm, he seemed alright, and neither was he panicking.

“. . .Let’s hope you can get over that hesitation,” he told her. With a strong pull, he heaved her to her feet, only to have her drop back down when she found her legs were still shaking.

She hadn’t even noticed they’d started trembling. Completely unlike herself, she choked on a sob, though she wasn’t entirely sure why she had such an urge. She snatched up her pistol, holstering it mechanically, then forced herself on her feet. “. . .I’m sorry,” she managed. “I didn’t -- ”

“Cool it, little girl,” he snapped, cutting her off. “Don’t even bother trying to explain. We can talk about this later.” He winced, sucking in a sharp breath, his hand gripping the wound tighter. “We need to move on.”

She nodded, following again when he led, willingly carrying his pack for him as he nursed his wound. She didn’t allow herself to look back when they cleared the rock, knowing that whatever battle had taken place wasn’t one she wanted to see the remnants of.

A huge, hallow guilt imbedded itself in her, the feeling so terrible she wanted to tear herself apart. As they walked, she had nothing but time and thoughts to focus on, which became her entire world. Her feet kept carrying her behind Torn, even as she withdrew into herself unintentionally.

Just what the hell had happened? Somehow or another, she was going to have to explain herself. She had disgraced herself terribly, being trained furiously for this very occurrence -- and had become useless at the critical moment. She’d shown weakness -- she’d been weak -- and now she’d have to answer for it. She could only imagine what Torn was going to make her go through, but at the same time, she felt she deserved it. Obviously some part of her hadn’t been ready for a live firefight, and that something had to change fast.

Torn stopped only once during the second half of the trek, dampening a cloth with water that he balled up and pressed against the wound on his right arm. She didn’t say anything during that pause, but neither did he, taking what he needed from his pack without a word to her. She wondered if he was giving her the silent treatment, or if he simply had nothing to talk about.

The latter seemed highly unlikely, given the situation. Her heart sank further as she came to the realization that she had not only choked at a very crucial moment, but had also severely damaged the budding trust between them. If he couldn’t rely on her to act, she knew, then she was nothing in not a liability. She would be discharged from the Crimson Guard if she couldn’t repair this, plus worse -- her father would likely punish her relentlessly for such a monumental failure.

So when they stopped around dusk for the night, she decided she had to fix things as quickly as possible.

This was another spot Torn obviously knew was here, a second cave which required some climbing to reach. It sloped downwards as it led in, becoming completely dark long before the sun had fully set. There was no fire pit here, but a select depression in the ground served as one. This was when she felt she had to start talking.

Talking, she found, was extremely difficult when you weren’t sure what you wanted to say.

“I failed,” was the first thing out of her mouth.

Torn glanced up from inspecting the wound more closely, eying her in a critical way -- the kind of look she was used to. “Nobody can blame you for that,” he replied carelessly. “I haven’t seen anyone fall easily into their first battle.”

Forgiveness wasn’t something she had known very often over the course of her life. Receiving it from the one person she knew wanted to see her limits was significant beyond words to her. She found herself simply staring at him, unbelieving that he could shrug off her failure -- which likely caused his wound as well -- as though it were a training exercise.

“What?” was all she could say.

“Look, little girl,” he started more firmly, “I’ve seen a lot of people enter their first really, truly dangerous fights. I’ve seen most of them fail completely. Even the best of them, myself included, couldn’t react the right way at first. What happened to you out there was textbook, nothing more.”

Her jaw had fallen, she just knew it. Not only was he making it seem like her failure was one of thousands, he admitted to failing, himself. She had expected a much crueler response from him. But the fact that he was being understanding, far from harsh, only made her feel worse. She should have been able to aid him in that fight, somehow, someway. It was a heavy, piercing burden on her that she hadn’t been able to even retreat on her own.

She looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Regret entered the tumult of feelings swirling in her mind, making everything feel that much worse. In an attempt to calm herself, she chose to make amends somehow -- and to make sure she never failed so miserably again in the future.

“Let me help,” she said, rising to her feet.

He glanced up sharply. “And do what?” he asked.

“You’re right-handed, right?” she pointed out.

“Ambidextrous,” he corrected.

“Either way, you need two hands.” She gestured high up on his arm, where the wound was. “I want to help.”

A long moment passed in which he regarded her silently, and then he smirked. “Are you going to freeze up again?” he teased.

She all but blew up. “You insensitive prick, what the hell! I offer you help, and you decide instead to be an asshole?! I can’t believe I ever --” She broke off, growled. . .

. . .Then saw how amused he was.

“You’re an asshole,” she reiterated.

“I know,” he agreed, smiling broadly now. “Now come here, I’m taking you up on that offer.”

“I’m not sure I left it on the table,” she ground out. “Sunnuva bitch.” Going around to his right side, she sat as comfortably as she could, knowing they might be like this for a while.

“You’re not allowed to hurt me in revenge,” he told her before she could take over.

“Uh huh,” she replied dryly. “As long as you don’t make any more of those Precursor-damned jokes.”

“Ah, well, with my health at stake, I guess I have to obey.” He leaned a little closer to her, speaking much more quietly, “Don’t think you’re going to be able to use that trick too often, little girl.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t have any intention of ever getting this close to you again.” Except, her mind supplied against her will, perhaps the next time you’re dead asleep.

If she could have punched herself and gotten away without explaining it, she would have done so. The last thing she needed when sitting so close to him, aware of that scent of his once more, was the reminder of what happened this morning. In fact, she wished she could forget about it entirely.

Unlikely.

- - - - -

Day Two: Completed.