A/N: Sorry any confusion the last chapter brought. Hope this helps clarify it.

I wanted to make Harry and Jak saying good-bye to each other a bit more real. It seemed stilted and too plain when I first wrote it. I didn't do emotional well and I understand what I wanted out of Harry's character as well as trying to keep to the medium ground of Jak's character from the first one and the second while making Harry an in between of his canon and my taking on his character considering what he's been through.

Also, I would very much appreciate more feedback from the readers. Since this is the final version, I want to know if I lost umpf that made SA well.. SA or not. Thank you to JayneParker and Dream Bound Nightmare for always giving me feedback.

Semi-Automatic

Part One: Misplaced

Chapter Eight: Seconds to Midnight

"Steady breaths," Harry coached himself, barely holding himself straight as he boarded the service elevator. His chest rattled with each breath, causing a sharp pain to spike into his throat that seared like he had swallowed coal. He thanked God that no soldier had followed him though the lab doors. Then they might have seen his ungraceful stumble and near face plant into the back wall when Harry's knees gave out on him. While he might hold his head high walking away from the session, he was a wreck when no one was looking. All shaking limbs, swollen lips, and sweat.

It was getting easier. Fractionally, minusculely, it was getting better. The pain was something akin to what Hell must feel like, but it was nothing compared to the first few months. He could recover faster, walk it off in a few hours instead of days. He didn't know if that idea of that frightened him or not.

Harry's fingers clamped on the guard rail of the elevator, others pressing to his neck to feel of his pulse. It was too hard and quick, each beat feeling like a punch against his sternum. He counted to ten, like Jak had suggested, with deep breaths on every even number. His arms stung, wet from the trails of blood left from fresh punctures. The blistered heaviness of the serum making him feel as if he was dragging his legs through setting concrete just to inch forward. When the elevator lurched upwards, his stomach bottomed out. He wretched violently, dry heaving on an empty stomach that sent bile burning into his throat. He coughed and sputtered, nostrils flaring as dizziness took hold firmly and his world was spinning.

Why did Neverous want him now? He could barely focus on not being sick. Never once had he been called on privately by the General. The only times he had met with the man was at the side of Lt. Tyvin or Commander Alec. Rarely, then, was he an active member of the conversation. He stood, silent, at attention waiting to be told to go back to his platoon. So much so, he tended to tune out the conversation in favor of not sparking some stupid aggression towards three men that could have him shot on a word. He was a good soldier, but he couldn't dodge bullets at point blank and he was still very aware that he could die.

His fingers fell from sore ribs to his side - feeling the scarred skin, a reminded of how mortal he was despite everything that was screaming he getting farther and farther away from that truth.

His thoughts were left to rot when the doors opened. He stepped into the extravagant room meant for dignitaries and royal audiences. His uneven steps echoed on dark wood, ragged breaths announcing him long before Harry reached the edge of the table. Without fail, Neverous was at the head of it. He was back dropped by a clean view of the violent skies of the rainstorm that had been raging near a month.

Harry was told, to Ava's chagrin, that month long storms were normal this far south of the Ice Mountains. It's where they sat on the board of the Ivory Jungle and the Wasteland Desert. His lips twitched towards a smile at the thought of how bad Ava's mood would be. She hated humidity, she didn't particularly like being drenched either and thunder made her irritable. He pitied his platoon for having to suffer the young woman. She was worse than a hurricane when in a sour mood. Harry had almost been relieved when they called him for his session, narrowly avoiding six hours in PT. He doubted he would be so happy when he got back to a tent he shared with her and Jak. She had her opinions of his state of mind after the injection - ones she wasn't afraid to voice anymore. But he'd enjoy his freedom at the crippling price he paid for it.

Before Harry could think to announce himself to the distracted General, he spoke without turning his eyes away from the paperwork. "You should know to salute your superiors by now, Harry."

Inwardly Harry growled in frustration. He loathed how causally the General tossed out his name with the same inflection a friend might. At least the officers had the decency to spit his surname with the coldness reserved for someone beneath them.

He begrudgingly snapped his salute, waiting on Neverous's command to end. Maybe out of spite, maybe out of proving a point, he finished writing before turning his attention to Harry. He leaned back in his chair, twisting his pen between black gloved fingers of his left hand. "At east," He said eventually, "You are proving to be an excellent investment, Harry."

Bitterly Harry dropped his eyes to the table between them. That shouldn't sting as much as it did. "I-" He began, his voice coming out hoarse and raw off a too dry tongue. He cleared his throat, swallowing hard. "I am honored to hear that, Sir." his sarcasm was thinly held.

Neverous snorted, tapping the pen against the table. When he spoke, it was with an edged voice that warned Harry to stop treading a thing line. "You should be."

Anger flared in Harry chest white hot and pure. He narrowed his eyes, but forced his teeth into his tongue until he tasted blood. 'Yes,' Harry thought scathingly, 'I would be mental to think otherwise.'

The General leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting together as his fingers locked lazily together. "When you came here you were nothing compared to what you are now. You've proven to be an excellent marksmen and excell in hand to hand. Definitely not the cadet who barely made it through the first week."

He paused, dark eyes flashing to a folder on the right. "And your Doctors tell me that your therapy is going well. No one has made it as far as you have. You should be proud."

Harry was painfully aware of that. Doctor Sol had been rather obsessed with telling him every time he walked away from a new session. He spoke as carefully as he could, hoping to God that his voice didn't betray him. "I never asked for this. I never asked to be experimented on. I can't say I'm proud of any of this."

Neverous gave a nod of comprehension, laughing at Harry honesty. "Invisera is a life ambition for many. They would do anything to be accepted into South Ward. Many did accept being experimented on and many more would if you happened not to survive as you have. You are going to the support for my men in the field."

Chancing himself to speak again, Harry asked. "... Is this about the Metal Heads?" Did Neverous have the same motivation as Haven City did for this experiment?

"You've already seen them Harry," He waved his hand dismissively, teeth bared in disdain. "Do you need to ask that question?"

Harry inhaled his lips, teeth grinding against his cheek to keep his silence.

"No," Neverous went on, "The Baron is conducting his own research into a way to deal with them. Pity the fool found someone capable of Eco Manipulation. Channelers are nearly extinct, but he's working his way to killing the very last one he'll ever find." He scoffed, reaching to take a manila folder from the pile near his elbow. "That will blow up in his face. As every other attempt has before."

Jak had told Harry there were others in Haven with him. Did Jak know that his group hadn't been the first try? If the subject of 'Haven City' wasn't a landmine of fragile conversation he might have thought to ask.

"To the reason I called you here," Neverous offered, flipping through the papers. "When you were first brought here - my Commander questioned you, correct?"

Harry vaguely remembered. "Yes, Sir."

He sighed then. "Regarding the incident with the officer, when Vine questioned about extra abilities - you left the question unanswered." he looked up from the fire, eyes resting on him expectantly. "I haven't seen anything that would make the question valid to ask again, but I'm curious to your answer."

Harry was left speechless. He was taken back, nearly physically. He hadn't know what to expect, but questioning him about his magic wasn't among them. He opened his mouth once, closed it, and looked away to the window beyond Neverous. He hadn't thought of home in months. It, at times, felt like he had dreamed up that entire life... But he had his reminders.

"I lost my..." He stopped himself wisely, "I haven't been able to use magic since I came here, Sir."

"I see. You are dismissed." Neverous nodded, scribbling in the file. "Report to Sanders, he is waiting on level five."

Reminding himself to salute, he turned quickly back to the elevator bay with uneasy thoughts of home leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

When the final sentry let out a screeching whine and an impressive burst of sparks, Harry felt a stab of satisfaction. The overload had been rather spectacular. Blindly bright flash of white before shrapnel embedded itself in the walls and white-hot oil splattered on his trousers. It sizzled and smelled like tar, but Harry wasn't phased by it. A VR drill was part and parcel these days. Constant testing and measuring of aptitude in outlandish situations sometimes had him anticipating the next test only to see what the men upstairs could throw at him. Sometimes he had a gun, sometimes he didn't - and sometimes there were turrets that fired eco-bullets, one time there had been flamethrowers.

The burn in his muscles helped ease the serum, helped get him going again when all he wanted to do was sleep for weeks. His conversation with Neverous left him feeling far too home sick with thoughts of magic and he needed the acid feel of the blaster marks to make it go away. He nearly leapt for joy when the officer had barked orders to go to the VR. He rubbed his bloodied knuckles as he studied the smoldering heap of danger-tech.

While the wanton destruction of Invisera's best weapons defenses was satisfying, this test was simple and it was an oddly hollow victory.

'One more year,' Harry thought, thinking on the preparations for the second year trainees graduation ceremony at the end of the week. He would advance, along with Jak, into the second and final set of Invisera's training program. It would be less basics of military code and physical training and lean towards refinement. After that, Harry didn't know what to expect. He didn't know what the final stretch meant for him. Would they keep him collared? Had he proven a liability still? Would they keep him on a short leash and continue to bark orders till he played the good solider?

'Is this going to be the rest of my life?'

The rain hadn't relented, the clouds angry and shouting as the rain felt like razors in the high wind. He signed out of the VR, pressing his tags to the lock release as it took note of his time to send the reports back to the scientists that would undoubtly pour over them endlessly to find reasons to up the damn dose again.

"Over here," A voice called somberly when the doors opened, Harry's eyes flicked to in several directions before finding Jak standing beneath the canopy cover to his right. For a split second he didn't recognize him. Jak was uncharacteristically attached to his hair, making a point of adhering the dress code so the barber wasn't ordered to just take the clippers to it. It was, however, shaved with militaristic hatred - he was practically bald, the blonde stripped away leaving nothing but the dark forest green of his roots.

"Awe, you had to part with it. Well," Harry joked, "at least your eyebrows match now."

Jak snorted, brow furrowed sourly. "Screw you," he answered testily, blue eyes resting on him unimpressed. "What took you so long? I finished twenty minutes ago."

Harry rolled his eyes. "God you're moody today." He'd completed the track in time - ten minutes early actually. "Neverous wanted to talk to me, privately, I started later than you."

Jak thinned his lips, concern pushing through cracks in his sour expression.

"Don't worry," Harry promised, "It was just some vindication bullshit for the tests."

He hummed in the back of his throat, his eyes turned angrily on the mud at their feet before trailing up to the Central building. There was a murderous, exhausted anger in Jak's eyes that Harry didn't often seen. It was saved for times he spoke on Haven, or when they compared what they were doing to Harry to what had been done to Jak inside Haven Prison.

"What is wrong with you?" Harry demanded faintly, "Don't tell me Ava's bitching about the storm got to you that badly."

"You spend five hours with her in this," Jak countered.

"No thanks mate," He responded flippantly, "Jak, what is wrong?"

Jak sighed, nose turned up at the floor as if it had committed some unspeakable crime. "The Baron is here."

"Baron Praxis?" Harry frowned, confused. "Why is he..."

"I was only going to be here for a year." Jak reminded him, voice sullen. "My year is up and I go back to Haven." He flinched at the name, teeth bared in hatred.

He didn't want to admit the way his stomach bottomed out at the thought. Harry had no words of comfort or reassurance. He wanted to say something along the lines of 'good luck,' or 'You'll be fine,' but there were no words to make it alright. He sighed heavily, shoulders wilting the the prospect of what this meant. Harry wasn't worried for himself. Jak and Ava had pushed him hard enough that he could walk on his own. He could fight and survive, he could make it because Jak had made good on that promise they made. It would be harder without Jak's understanding, but Harry would have the platoon and even Ava.

Jak was truly, and terrifyingly, on his own in Haven City.

There was no false pretenses to what Jak was in Haven. He was that serial number on his arm, a in-progress experiment that no one expected to work. This felt more a death sentence hung over the elf's head than a return-to-sender pick up. To Harry, Invisera was Hell, to Jak it was the closest thing to freedom either of them would ever have in these lives of theirs.

Harry braced his shoulder, Jak stiffening slightly as his hands flexed at his side. "Don't let them mess you up too bad, Jak."

Jak refused to look at him, but chuckled despite himself. "A little late," He swallowed hard, licking at chapped lips. He considered Harry for a moment, then smirked.

"Yeah... you'll be alright." He said with a hint of certainty.

He couldn't bring himself to say it. It felt like he was signing Jak's death warrant. He wouldn't thank him for everything he'd done. Harry couldn't say those words. As impossible as it was, he refused to acknowledge that if he thanked him, if he said good-bye - it meant that he'd never see the elf again. Realistically he knew he wouldn't. He knew that. But he refused to make it tangible with good-byes and resting statements of what Jak done to keep them both alive. Jak waited for him to speak, to say something, but Harry couldn't form the right words.

"I-" he began, helpless.

With a nod that made Harry feel sick, Jak escaped the cover of the canopy into the rain. He turned, slightly, mockingly saluting to Harry with two fingers and a defeated, morose smile before disappearing into the tunnel headed to Central. Harry stood for a long time under the canopy, trying to wrest his thoughts together. An overwhelming sense of loss crept into his chest.

"Shit," he breathed as the thunder clapped loudly above him.