Disclaimer: I own all three games… but nothing else… sad, I know

AN: And now, because ya'all have been clamorin' for it, Act Four of Jak IV: Penalties of War. For those of ya who have guessed it… it's only going down hill from here…


Act IV: Then There Were None

Torn was not having a good day and so he was not in a good mood. It was easy to tell. The Krimzon Guard knew instantly and they steered clear of him. One little slip up and Torn would have them doing port duty—which consisted off cleaning the dirty, grimy boats in the port… which was bad.

"Stupid, idiot, moron." No one was sure who Torn had been cursing all day, but whoever he was most people where glad they weren't him.

The illuminated Ottsel Daxter grinned over him and Torn had the urge to shot a bullet into its fake forehead. Of course, Daxter would be angry with him. Or maybe he wouldn't. Who knew with Daxter these days?

Torn felt bad for the Ottsel… er… guy but his training hadn't allowed that sympathy to stay. He had other things to do, other things occupying his mind and worry for an almost friend wasn't a top propriety. Besides, Daxter was—despite Torn's reluctance to admit it—a hero. Eventually, Daxter would get back into the swing of things.

The Naughty Ottsel was buzzing with activity when he entered. The music was high and the people were in full swing. A very pregnant Tess sat behind the counter dealing out drinks while Daxter moved boxes and food to and fro. Some part-time waiters and waitresses moved among the crowd. Tess had insisted they be hired to help out with the work that a popular bar like the Naughty Ottsel required.

But Torn had already found his goal and everything else was moot. Pushing through the crowd he made his way over to a small booth in the back. Tess smiled at him sadly as he passed and Daxter gave him a nod of recognition, but there was no other friendly exchanges between them.

Sig sat in that booth, blue light shining on his civilian shirt and jeans. The man looked odd without his Wastelander armor, Torn decided, and he couldn't get pass the fact that Sig now had two eyes visible now instead of one.

"What's goin' on, chilly pepper?" Sig questioned and took a long swig of his alcohol. At Keira's request he came here often, whenever he could drag himself from the Race Stadium and looking after Keira. Tess needed the support, the emotional contact. Daxter was there for her, but he was distant, cold.

"I got a job for you," Torn replied as he slid into the bench opposite of Sig. He seemed to be saying that a lot now and it was pissing him off. He was a man after all, and he wanted to do these jobs himself.

But Torn was only one man and he couldn't be at two places at once.

"Oh? Need I remind you I'm retired?" Sig motioned to the white shirt stretched over his honed muscles. "I only do racin' now. Unless you got a hankering for a new engine I'm afraid I can't help you, cherry."

"It's about Jak." Torn knew that would have Sig interested.

A dark brow rose as Sig questioned, just a tad to softly, "What about Jak, cherry?" His voice had a dangerous lit to it. Hinting at the power that had made Sig a top Wastelander in his day.

"You know about the mission he went on?" Torn questioned, undaunted by Sig's look and voice. Torn was a hardened warrior. Nothing could faze him, only the thought of Ashlin and Ryu being unsafe made him panic, and even then it was hardly visible.

"Yeah, Keira told me about it after he called her on his way about. Somethin' about Metal Heads in Down Town. Said it'd be a few days before he got back." Sig shook his head in disappointment. "I know he's the city hero and all, but I think Jak needs to get his priorities in line. What with Keira pregnant n'all."

"It was a reconnaissance mission," Torn pointed out. "Shoulda taken two days… tops."

"So?"

"It's been five."

"So what you're sayin', chilly pepper, is that you don't know where Jak is? He's just gone…?" Sig's voice lowered more, his eyes glittering dangerously in the lamplight. Any other man would have been trembling in terror.

"I'm not saying anything, just that Jak hasn't reported in at all." Torn crossed his arms over his chest and said with consideration, "I came ask you to see if you could find him. I'd go, but we got Metal Head movement out in the Wasteland. For all we knew he could have been just detained by some kamikaze Metal Heads but I'd still like to know that he's okay."

"I'll do it, but not for you." Sig pressed his cup into the table. "Keira would be crushed if anythin' happened to Jak. I dunno if she'd even make it out emotionally intact."

"Don't tell her about the search. Take some of the Wastelanders. They'd be willing to go with you to look for Jak." At least, he hoped they would be. "But don't tell anyone else. I don't want to cause a panic unless we absolutely have to."

"I wouldn't," Sig answered and stood. "But if somethin' has happened to, Jak, I ain't gonna be the one to tell Keira. This is all your doing, Torn. If there's a mess, you're gonna clean it up."

Torn stood, every lean inch brimming with rage. "Don't worry, Sig. I clean up my own messes." Face clenched with barely restrained anger, Torn turned and stormed from the Naughty Ottsel.

Sig finished off his drink and left a tip for the little waitress who had fearfully given it to him. Took a lot of guts to take the order of someone like him and he respected the girl for it.

Damnit, he was worried. And it wasn't just because of what would happen to Keira if something had happened to Jak. Jak was like a son—albeit a son he was more often fighting with than being fatherly to—and the city needed him. Loosing Jak, even in a peaceful time like this, would be a blow Haven City might not be able to rise up from.

He would start the search tomorrow. He was sure that the Wastelanders would be willing to help him even if they didn't care about Jak. They looked up to him, even at his retired status. And most owed him their lives. Wastelanders were people who took blood oaths seriously.

The house he resided in was close to the Race Stadium, though officially not in that sector. He wanted to be close to Keira, but at the same time not make it feel like he was pushing for a relationship. And if something was indeed wrong with Jak, Sig knew Keira would need both him and Samos nearby.

It seemed impossible to him that Jak could be harmed after all he had done, but Sig had to admit that the boy had a knack for running headfirst into things without thinking. The kid had a brain, but more often than not he chose not to use it. It may have been unlikely that Jak was in any serious danger, but it was all too probable that he was in trouble.

The house he entered was small. He didn't need much room. Sig only came here to sleep and sometimes eat. He was usually to busy during the day to ever really consider just how tiny his apartment was.

Sig didn't both with turning on a light. He stripped off his clothes and folded his big body in the small bed in the corner of the second room in the apartment.

"I really hope there ain't nothin' wrong with Jak," Sig grumbled and rolled onto his side, pulling the thick comforter of his bed over his shoulders. "Or I'm gonna kill him."

As the silence descended around him, Sig prayed to whatever deity listened that Jak was indeed fine. After all that the young man had been through he deserved a break. Jak risked his neck time and time again for a world that would have gladly seen him dead. Didn't that mean he deserved some peace? Did anyone had the right to take it away from him?

He didn't really know that, but Sig knew that if anyone tried to ruin Jak's peaceful existence he would fight them tooth and nail. He would see the boy happy and safe and settled down. Jak deserved that much.

"You better be okay, Jak," Sig told the darkness and didn't receive a reassuring answer.

&

Torn crawled into the plush, large bed he shared with Ashlin. It was dark in the room, the red of the sheets and carpets swallowed up by the black. Even the light of the moon offered a poor guide for him to travel by. Lucky enough Torn had been moving around the room for close to five years and had it almost memorized.

Almost.

He barely managed to bite back the curse of pain as his toe hit the hard, unforgiving wood of the end of bed. As he hopped on one foot in the darkness, trying to make as little noise as possible, Torn managed to settle himself on the edge of the bed. He rubbed his irritated big toe.

Last time he took his boots of before getting into bed.

He pulled off the undershirt that had been hastily pushed over his head that morning when Ashlin had told him about the decline in the weather. He tossed it across the room, deciding to risk Ashlin's anger at his messy habits than risk another toe injury.

When he slid into the soft covers of the bed, Ashlin's warm body was waiting. The silence of her breathing told Torn she was asleep, but he couldn't resist running his fingers across her shoulders.

Ashlin turned into his warmth without a thought, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Where were you?" Her voice was heavy with sleep.

Torn almost winced. He had decided that despite Ashlin's anger over it he would keep her in the dark on Jak's situation. She and Jak were close friends and he didn't want her worrying about him unless something really had happened to Jak.

He pressed a kiss to her hair and slid against her, pulling her curvy, giving body against his rough, hard one. "Nothing. Just had to check a few things out before coming back here."

"Hmm…" She was already half asleep, her head drooping onto his shoulder.

Before Torn could join his wife in sleep he became aware of movement in his room. His fingers instantly reached out for a gun that wasn't there. He kept his eyes trained on the shadow as it moved across the room.

It was Ryu and he came over to Torn's side of the bed and looked at him sadly, the emerald of his eyes shimmering in the pale moonlight. "Daddy, I can't sleep."

For a long moment Torn stared at him, unsure of how to answer. "Go back to bad," he replied gruffly, unsure of what else to do. When he had been younger he had never slipped into his parents' room.

He had never had parents.

Little Ryu bit his lip as he began to tremble. "But I… I'm afraid of the dark, Daddy."

"Ryu…" Torn groaned in annoyance. Afraid of the dark? That was the stupidest thing he had ever heard. The dark was an ally, it could protect you in ways the light never could. Darkness cloaked you while light revealed you.

Next to him Ashlin shifted and awoke. "Come here, Ryu." Without another word Ryu climbed up onto the bed and settled into his mother's arms, drifting to sleep.

"Torn," Ashlin said softly once Ryu was completely asleep. "He's just a little boy. It's alright for him to be afraid of the dark."

"I never was," Torn pointed out. It was true. He had learned earlier on that if dark was anything it was an ally. It could protect you from the Krimzon Guard or the Metal Heads. There were no monsters and evil in it. There was only safety.

"He's different than you and me, Torn," Ashlin replied. "He doesn't have to fight Metal Heads like we did. He can be afraid of the dark."

It made his heart constrict with emotions to think about it. Yes, his children would never have to be afraid of Metal Heads again. They would never know real terror like he did. And for that he was glad.

Hesitantly he reached over and stroked Ryu's mop of messy auburn tangles. He didn't show his son affection often. He wasn't sure how he could do that. Even when he had been a little boy Ryu's age he hadn't worn his heart on his sleeve. He had locked it away, afraid of breaking it. But Ryu was not a child of war, he was not a product of war. He was Torn's son and he would not know war.

Mine, he thought with a sudden possessive feeling. He reached out and took Ashlin's hand and heard the same thought reverberate through his head. Yes, they were both his now. He would do what he had to do to protect them. Ryu would never have to fight in a war, not as long as he breathed.

Whatever happened I promise I will see Ryu and Ashlin safe, Torn swore softly as he felt Ashlin drift into sleep besides him.

Holding his woman's hand and his son between them, Torn feel asleep.

&

"They're coming! They're coming!" Crea shouted exuberantly, waving her arms in the air. She took the steps of the observatory tower two at a time. "Nyx! Gareth and Sala are back!"

She had seen them coming down the streets of the Holy City at a lazy pace in the small, golden spyglass the mages had given her. It was the only they didn't think she'd break. She couldn't, they reasoned, since the spyglass was bronze.

Well, she proved them wrong since as soon as she had seen Gareth and Sala coming back to the palace she had accidentally dropped the glass out of the window. She had heard it shatter against the hard pavement below.

So now she was off to find her golden haired sister and tell them the news. Since both Gareth and Sala had left, Nyx had been left in charge. The girl had taken her duty solemnly while Crea had cheered and done her 'I'm the leader' dance.

The said golden soldier was propped against the wall, her eyes closed from exhaustion. With Sala and Gareth gone she was being constantly bombarded with questioned by the Holy City residences, the mages, and even the newly reborn people of Sage-Harmona.

Crea skidded to a halt, almost tripping but managed to grab Nyx's pants to keep balance. "Nyx! Guess what! Guess what!"

"Can't you just tell me?" she complained instantly, rubbing her temples.

"Sala and Gareth are back!" Crea waved her arms in the air, giving a whoop of happiness. She swung herself into the air with abandon and Nyx made no move to chide her for it.

"Thank the Goddess," Nyx muttered and with revived strength pushed herself from the wall.

Nyx's strict, harsh stride was balanced by Crea's carefree skip. Now that Crea was aging into womanhood the similarities between them were striking. Crea's face almost matched Nyx's completely, save for her baby fat around her cheeks and the upturn of her nose and plump of her lips. Her hair was almost as long as Nyx's, but it was shades lighter and straight as a board.

When they reached the entrance to the palace Crea stopped short. "Hmm…" For a split second Crea remembered the young man she had seen with Sala and Gareth and a memory flashed across her mind.

Then she realized how far ahead of her Nyx had become.

"Nyx! Wait for me!" Forgetting what she had seen, Crea scurried ahead.

The soldier didn't stop until she had passed the door to the castle. Her sister waited impatiently by her side, bouncing on her heels and humming a tone to herself. Nyx was concentrated solely on the two horses coming closer and closer to her.

She offered respectful nods to both Sala and Gareth, but when she saw who was riding on the horse with Gareth her mouth hung open and she couldn't seem to drag her eyes away… horror and excitement entwined.

Nikalos Mandrake—or Nik as he told everyone to call him—had been taking in the scenery of the Holy City. It really was something. It wasn't harsh and overbearing like Sage-Harmona, a planned city. This was a clutter, a mess of people banding together to survive the harsh of life. There was glass here for decoration and than brick for protection and wood for warmth.

Gareth had been proud as he had explained the Holy City's unique religion and culture with Sala chiming in. Nik had not been so surprise by their pride in their city. In fact, he had hoped for it. As rulers they should have that love and duty to their city.

But somehow it all dimmed when he finally saw Nyx Urban standing in front of that crystal palace.

He had known she was in the city the moment it had come into his honed eyesight. Something inside him had just known he would find her there. He had been revived for two years, waiting for any sign that she was in Sage-Harmona. When he had finally come to terms with the fact that Nyx was not in her city he had decided to go and look for her. As luck would have it their Lord and Lady ships Sala and Gareth happened to be leaving at the same time.

Nyx had not really changed in all the years they had been separate. She was still the serious, golden warrior he knew but her face had hardened, matured. She was true woman now.

It made a grin—well most people would call it a smirk, but that was how Nik grinned—come over his face. The armor she wore bounced the sunlight onto her face and it was all he could do not to hop off Gareth's horse and sweep her into his arms. She was so damned beautiful and it made the memories of their time together wash over him. It made his smile widen.

He had jumped off the horse in his fluid, graceful way before he realized Nyx was glaring at him. It made his eyebrow rise in confusion. In mock surrender he held his hands out in front of him. "What?"

Nyx crossed his arms over her chest and her eyes narrowed farther. Sala gave a small bark of confused laughter. The girl had always been cool and collected around everyone else but Nikalos Mandrake had her enraged and ready to kill. And by the arrogant, cocky grin on the man's face he knew it.

Undaunted by the hostile look on Nyx's face Nik swaggered over to her, every inch the ladies' man he had once been proclaimed to be. "Been a while, beautiful." He reached out to touch her shoulder, but Nyx jerked it away without removing her crossed arms. "Now is that anyone to greet an old friend?"

Before Nyx could open her mouth to retort Crea was flying into his arms. "Nikey! Oh, Nikey! You finally came!" She pressed a noisy kiss to his cheek.

Nik laughed and swung Crea in the air. "See, Nyx?" he asked when he placed the golden child back onto the ground. "You could take some lessons from your little sister on greetings." In earnest consideration he tapped his finger against his bottom lip. "'Course, I'll forgive me if you give me a kiss."

Crea clapped her hands to her lip in childlike delight. "Oh go on, Nyx! Give Nikey a kiss! You haven't seen him in sooooooo long!"

For a long moment Nyx glared at him. Anyone else would have been backing down, almost frozen by the hard glare, but not Nik. He continued to grin and placed his hand on his hips, arching his back backwards.

Then Nyx wheeled around and strode back into the palace without a word. Crea called after her, but the young woman would not answer.

Sala approached Nik with wide eyes. "I've known Nyx for a long time now, but I've never seen her so worked up before…" She wondered why Nik had such an effect on the girl. For all that Nik seemed open he could certainly be closed mouth about some things. In fact, other than his name she had learned nothing about Nik personally.

"Yes," Nik said with a long-suffering sigh. "Nyx is one hard nut to crack and I mean that in the most wonderful way. Such a challenge that one. But I like her that way. You never really understand how the girl ticks until you get under her skin and that's very, very, very hard to do. Lucky for me, that's a talent I seemed to have acquired during our first meeting."

"Well, well," Nik had drawled, a soldier and well trained at it. He knew it, too. "What do we have here? Aren't you a little young to be a soldier?"

Nyx gave a cool like that hinted at the rage growing underneath, but she kept it locked and controlled. A very soldierly thing to do. "Oh… and you're so old?"

"Nikey!" Crea said, drawing his attention down to her. "Now that you're here I can go look for Venn!"

Venn… it send a low punch to Nik's stomach to think about the young boy, but Nik kept his face smiling. "Oh? And how do you plan to find him?"

"Magick," Crea giggled and then freed herself from his arms, scurrying after her sister.

Nik watched her go with humor sparkling in his smoky eyes. "It's good to see Crea hasn't changed. Always was a few swords sort of armory, if you get my drift."

Sala came up his side and tilted her head slightly, her dark locks falling across her creamy face. "You know them very well, don't you?"

He shrugged carelessly, blocking all those emotions that threatened to emerge. "Well, Crea and Nyx were my only family until…" he paused and then finished, "they just always were."

Gareth sent his wife a look and she nodded her head in agreement. She decided not to grill Nik just yet, however. "You grew up in the reign of Sage-Harmona, correct? I think I would… love to hear about it."

"Very well," Nik answered as he clasped his left wrist behind his back with his right hand. Military pose. "I am at your service." His eyes remained playful.

From a tower above them, Nyx watched with a stony face.

&

"This is Sig. Any sign?"

"None… sir. We've checked the south… and there's… twice now. There's not even a footprint that… have belonged to Jak." The voice was crackling over the intercom, breaking here and there. No, Dead Town was no a good place to catch radio signals.

Sig sighed in annoyance and bent down to eye the murky waters of Dead Town. "Come on, chilly pepper, where are you?"

Silence answered him. Well, that was great, wasn't it? There was no sign of Jak anywhere in this forsaken town. No footprints, no guns, no signs of struggles.

In annoyance, Sig rubbed the back of his neck. If Jak was alive and well… he was going kill him. Keira would have a fit, no doubt, but he was sure he could get her to come around. And after he explained how Jak just disappeared she might do the honors for him. That Keira was a tough cookie.

Absently, Sig kicked a pebble into the dirty water, watching the ripples move across the surface. It was hard to believe this had once been a thriving village. Daxter had told him about how he and Jak had to get a power generator working for the Mayor of the village, risking life and limb in the Forbidden Jungle. All so the old fart would give them a 'power cell'.

Sig had snorted in disbelief. He shouldn't be surprised, but he was. Jak and Daxter and Samos and Keira were really from that far back. No one used power cells anymore. They were insufficient. They used eco now.

"Roderick," he said into the communicator, "call the search off. We'll resume tomorrow."

"… yes… I… sir…" the static replied filtered through his earpiece.

Sig had been surprised when so many Wastelanders had offered to go on the search for Jak with him. They really did respect Jak and that said a lot about a man's character. Wastelanders were tough, battle-hardened, and much, much older than everyone else. When someone like Jak had enough respect from them to drop what they were doing and look for him it said something. It said a lot.

It said Jak was a damned hero.

And he wondered how he was going to tell Keira.

"Not. My. Problem. That," he bit off. "Torn's gonna have to do. He's the one that set Jak on this stupid job."

Blind rage shifted through him, Torn as the recipient. It wasn't that he was angry with Torn—it was Jak's job and he had always taken car of himself before—but rage was easy to understand than worry and it was really worry that coursed through him, finding an outlet in rage.

Jak had to be okay. He just had to. Sig wasn't sure what he would do if Jak wasn't. And it wasn't all because Keira would be damaged. Jak had become like a son to Sig. He didn't say it at all, he never told Jak, but Jak had become very important to Sig. Jak had brought Sig together with the daughter he never knew he had, he given him something to fight for, a new belief in life.

Suddenly there was movement out the corner of his eye. Sig didn't think it was Jak. Jak didn't move that fast, Jak wouldn't try to be so quiet. He spun and cocked his gun, listening.

Silence surrounded him, teased him, and Sig knew it was merely the calm before the fatal lunge. He breathed on his gun, a Wastelander tradition, one that was supposed to bring good luck.

The Metal Head lunged, its dark eco-infested face twisted in an angry snarl. Its gnarled claws were raised in the attack and it was going for his neck.

Without flinching Sig raised his gun and pulled the trigger. The Metal Head fell in a heap on the ground, a pile of smoking, twitching limbs.

Sig walked over to it and kicked it with the tip of his boots. The Metal Head whimpered, clutching its chest, and curling into a ball. Second later it ceased to breathe and the world had one less Metal Head in it.

"Odd…" Sig muttered and moved pass the Metal Head. Metal Heads, as a rule, traveled in groups. The smallest Sig had ever run into was about five. By staying in groups it was dangerous to hunt Metal Heads and it was easier for them to track down prey.

So why was this Metal Head all alone?

It was possible that he was a straggler who stayed behind to see if there was anymore food to pick up. Still, a Metal Head would not choose to be alone. He would have a partner with him.

Sig pushed away the brush the Metal Head had jumped out of. There was a small nest which meant the Metal Head had been camping there for a day at least.

But that wasn't what caught Sig's attention. It was what was in the nest. Yellow outlined with the same color for bullets. The long length of the gun, the black color, was stark against the deep green of the nest.

A blaster gun…?

He picked it up and felt the tiny insignia on the butt of the gun. It was in the shape of Mar's chest. There was no mistaking the long twists and twines of the symbol. Only one man carried a gun that bore the mark of Mar.

Jak.

And Jak would not be anywhere without his gun, not by choice, not with Metal Heads around. If Jak did not have his gun, then that meant his was in trouble.

Many scenarios circled in Sig's head, but only one stuck. Jak was missing, he was without his gun, there had been a Metal Head group nearby, and one of them had stayed behind.

It was obvious to someone like Sig. The lone Metal Head he had killed must have been a scout, making sure no one followed the group as they escaped into the desert—which was where the larger Metal Head nests were located.

Jak must have been in trouble. It wasn't like him to be overtaken by Metal Heads, but it was possible that he could have been dragged off into the desert. If that was the case, then he would need backup.

"We need to find him," Sig muttered. "I'll keep it from Keira for now. Tomorrow we'll go into the desert. He'd better be alive."

But something was wrong about the whole thing. Metal Heads did not take hostage. They killed and they killed fast. If Jak was without his gun then…

"Damnit Jak," he muttered and made his way back to the safety of Haven. "You'd better be alive."

&

"What do you mean 'you don't know where he is'?" Torn demanded, slamming his fists down on the hardwood of the table.

Sig didn't flinch. In fact, he glared into Torn's fiery gaze. "Exactly what I meant. We've been looking out in the desert for the past two weeks! We ain't found nothin'!"

"What are you saying?" Torn kept his voice low. Ashlin and Ryu were in the palace and he knew if he shouted they would hear. Ashlin did not know about Jak. Not yet, but it was starting to look as if he was going to have to tell her.

"I'm saying… that if Jak's alive he's nowhere near here. And you know that Metal Heads don't take people alive. He's probably…" Sig choked but clenched his fists and continued, "he is dead. We can't find a body and he's probably so far down in a Metal Head nest that we probably never will. Damnit, Torn!"

"Are you saying this is my fault?" Torn demanded. "Do you think I expected Jak to… to… die on this mission? It was a simple reconnaissance mission."

"No, I'm not saying it's your fault." Sig unclenched his fists and sighed. He was too weary, too upset, too drained to fight with Torn. "I'm just saying that we have to look at the brutal truth."

"A state of panic… that's what this damn thing will cause." Torn gave a groan of disgust and slumped into a chair, lowering his head to his hands.

"… I ain't worried about those Haven weaklings." Sig ignored Torn's heated glare. He was after all a Haven resident. "What are you going tell Keira?"

"I don't know, Sig. I'll… I'll figure something out." Torn cursed and rapped his knuckles on the table. "First I gotta tell Ashlin. She's gonna kill me for keeping it from her." He had just never thought Jak would wind up dead.

Ashlin would be more than just angry. She would be upset. Jak had meant something to her, the symbol of everything she was trying to do. Her hero. Torn was her husband and he had her heart, but it was Jak that had her admiration. He didn't know if he would be able to console her when she found out that Jak was dead, dead, dead, dead.

Torn didn't even know if he was okay. After being cut off from his emotions from so long he wasn't sure how to handle this ache deep down in his bones. It was sadness and he knew that, but he wasn't sure how to handle it. Torn had cut himself off from his emotions to survive the harsh times of war and now that his heart was open it was bleeding. He did not know how to make it stop.

Jak had been a friend, a good friend, even if Torn would never admit it.

"No, I'll do it," Sig said on a long sigh and he, too, took a seat. Opposite from Torn. "I won't have anyone else do it. I think I always knew I would if Jak did… did… turn up dead." He had just hoped and hoped and hoped that it would never come to this. Jak wasn't supposed to die.

Jak was a hero, he had saved the world countless times. After they saved the world heroes were supposed to live happily ever after. Jak should have been settling down with Keira and starting his family.

Didn't Jak deserve happiness? Didn't Keira?

"I'll tell Ashlin, right now. We have to figure out how we're going to let the people know. They'll panic." Torn looked at Sig as the gears in his head turned. "You tell Keira first, let her brace herself. The press is going to hound her… and the baby."

"I know, I know. I'll handle it, chilly pepper." As if his mass had suddenly become too heavy for him to support he disentangled from the chair and got up slowly. His eyes were sore and weary and he was starting to look his age, the wrinkles beginning to show around the corners of his mouth.

Once the former Wastelander had left the room, Torn pushed himself from the chair. Ryu was in the playroom, enjoying new toys the nobles had showered on him, and in all likeliness Ashlin was there as well.

The playroom was in the west of the palace to enjoy the sun. It was the brightest room in the palace, painted with reds and greens and blues. The carpet was short and tough, meant to endure romping, and toys made it seem like a war zone.

Ryu played in the center, holding a miniature hovercar in his chubby toddle hands. He slashed in the air, it hovered over a Krimzon Guard base, and then took to the air once more. Ryu made little noise in his throat, lost inside his own world.

Ashlin sat at a small desk in the corner of the room, papers spread out before her. She had put the desk in the room so she could be close to her tiny son, but still complete the necessary work of governor.

For a moment Torn stood at the threshold and watched them both. Ryu reflected so much of his mother and yet Torn was there as well and so was the gentle woman of the Praxis line he didn't know. It seemed so perfect and Torn wondered how the hell he got lucky enough to have all of this.

Before he would have chalked it up to the fact that he had given up so much for Haven City, he earned the title hero. He would have said he deserved this. Payment for all the sacrifices he had made, Ashlin had made.

But Jak was dead and if anyone deserved happiness wasn't it Jak?

Now he was rethinking his position on the question and the thoughts floated in his head, around and around, almost making him dizzy. He knelt down besides Ashlin, deciding how he would tell her.

"Torn?" she asked as she took notice of him, her eyes narrowed with concern. She knew this was unlike him. "What is it?"

"Ashlin, there's something I have to tell you," Torn admitted and reached for her hand, adding pressure to it. "Jak…"

&

Tess heaved a tray into the air, her whole body groaning with the energy it took. The baby was kicking so hard that it left her entire body drained.

She patted her swollen abdomen once for reassurance. "You are worth it," she told the baby. There was a sharp kick, a tiny foot digging into her ribs. Tess gritted her teeth and almost dropped the tray to the floor. It was covered in glasses and food so it would not have been such a good idea.

A strong hand lifted the tray into the air, from her hand. Tess frowned and then blinked when a kiss was pressed against her forehead.

"Careful, sweet cheeks," Daxter said in a slightly chiding voice. "Doc said no heavy lifting." He smiled into her face.

"Thanks…" Tess replied and watched as Daxter slide over to the bar, slipping behind it, and placed the trey's food contents into the trash. Then he began to wash the tray and glasses, all the while singing a song.

Tess frowned. Daxter had been like this for over a month. He was polite, kind, caring, a wonderful husband. But he was cold, distant. Tess felt it every time he looked at her. He had built a wall around them, blocking him from her.

No one watching Daxter would notice. Tess thought only Jak and herself would notice the cold, aloofness Daxter now presented to people, she being his wife and he being his best friend. It was so bitter and it made a sour taste swell in Tess's mouth. It felt like he had cut himself off from people entirely.

Tess wished Jak would step in every now and then. She thought having his best friend around would really help Daxter regain his former carefree attitude, but Jak hadn't been seen around the Naughty Ottsel for almost a month.

Perhaps he couldn't deal with Daxter's sudden change in attitude. Tess couldn't say she blamed him. There were times when she wanted to shake Daxter and demand he look and see that he still had a family that needed him.

What would happen to the baby that grew inside her? How would Daxter act around it? Would he be to the baby like he was to Tess? That was unfair. The little life inside her had nothing to do with Lee's… Lee's… passing.

Tears tightened in Tess's throat. Oh, her little baby boy! How could she lose him without even the chance to fight for him? She should at least be able to fight for him, shouldn't she?

For Lee, she thought as her hand went to rest on her stomach, for Lee I'll raise this baby with all the love and care I can.

As if in agreement the baby gave one mighty kick. It contract Tess's stomach and she gave a low moan and dropped to her knees. Daxter was at her side instantly, gripping her arms.

"Tess?" he demanded and held her against him, his whole lean body shaking with worry and fear and overwhelming emotions. "Tess, what's wrong?"

"The baby," she rasped and watched as fear filmed over Daxter's eyes. She knew what he was thinking and gripped his upper arm. "No, Daxter. I think… I think… I think I'm having it."

"The baby?" Tess nodded and gave another moan as there was another pain tightening in her womb. "Quick, we have to get to the hospital!"

&

Daxter had watched Lee be born and he had passed out, all that blood and bodily fluid and smells. Watching his new child be born did nothing for him. He was numb to it. Even Tess's screams failed to reach his ears. As she clenched his fingers to the point of breaking them he felt nothing.

There was so much blood, but Lee's birth had split more. The labor was smooth, taking no more then eight hours. Tess's face was clenched with concentration as she struggled to bring life into the world.

The screams filled the air. Daxter couldn't help comparing them to Lee's. Lee had whimpered, gave a small shriek, and fallen asleep. This child gave a long, heart-wrenching sob, screaming at the world that she was born and that it had better damned well pay attention to her.

"It's a girl!" the doctor shouted.

It was a tiny, tiny thing with kicking legs and waving hands. It's little, wrinkly body was covered with the blood of her mother's labor. The baby girl's face was clenched in rage and it was red from the energy it took to give such screams, drawing them from the very depths of her lungs.

Tess was crying as well, from the pain and joy of life making. Her face had a sheen from her sweat but the smile covered from ear to ear. Weakly she held out her arms. The little, bloody thing was placed into them.

"My beautiful," she cooed and touched the child's nose with the tip of her finger. The babe gave another long, painful yelp and settled against her mother's chest. "My beautiful, wonderful girl."

Daxter looked at her, at the thin little baby body, the hands resting on Tess's heaving breasts. Something inside him tightened and he had the urge to take her from Tess's arms and cradle her. His little girl. She was his. Like Lee had been.

But she was so tiny, his hands were so big. He would crush her. He would destroy, his daughter, his flesh and blood, if he reached out. He had crushed Lee… and Lee was dead.

"Maelia… we can call her Maelia… our little Mae-Mae," Tess whispered into the sleeping child's face and she whimpered at the disturbance. "What do you think, Daxter?"

"Maelia," he agreed and backed away. He couldn't touch her. She was too tiny, his was too callous. He would just hurt her. Crush her tiny, frail bones in his hands.

"Do you want to hold her?" Tess held the newly named Maelia out to Daxter, like an offering. It was true. Maelia could be the thing that bonded them together, that kept the family from falling apart.

Or she could rip the already frayed seams.

"I—I can't." Daxter made a dash for the door, his heart expanding against his ribs, threatening to burst from his body. "I can't."

Tess lowered Maelia to her chest, holding the child so tightly that she awoke and started crying. The mother rolled onto her side and kissed Maelia's sobbing face.

"No worries, my darling. I promised you before and I'll promise you again. No one will hurt you. I'll love you, Mae-Mae…" She turned her head and looked at the spot where Daxter had been standing moments before. "I'll love you enough for the both of us."

But would anyone love her?

&

News reached Keira fast. Faster than she had expected. When Lee had been born Keira was called by Daxter from the hospital almost a day after Tess had gone into labour.

Tess was the one that called her, though, and she was hysterical. "Please, please. I just had my Maelia and I… I need… you," she had sobbed over the phone.

"Where's Daxter?" Keira had asked.

"Please come here, Keira. Please." Then Tess had hung up. But her sobs had haunted Keira as she dressed and drove herself over to the hospital. She had considered calling Sig to drive her, but he had been doing this mission with Jak—he had told her after Jak was two days late in coming home—and she didn't want to disturb his much needed rest.

It wasn't hard to find Tess. There weren't many babies being born. Including Tess, there was only three. Everyone seemed so busy with this new world they were being integrated with that there was no time to start families or worry about their children's future.

Keira walked into the bland white room and saw Tess sitting in the center bed. She was awake but looking at the tiny window, black filled with the night, and had a tiny little baby nestled in the crock of her arm.

"Oh, Tess…" Keira whispered in awe and her own hand reached down for her rounded stomach. "She's beautiful."

In surprise, Tess looked up and Keira saw that her eyes were filmed over with tears, threatening to fall her already stained cheeks. "Keira… Daxter he won't… he won't look at her. He won't look at our baby daughter. He won't."

Without another word Keira approached. Tess made room for her on the hospital bed and Keira lay next to them, looking into the small face of Tess's daughter. Maelia. So beautiful, so fragile, so tiny.

"I'm so sorry, Tess," Keira said and really didn't think sorry cut it. She hadn't realized how damaged Daxter was from his son's death. What would she do if Jak wouldn't look at the child she carried?

And she wished Jak was with her right now, she would feel stronger if he was, or that he was chasing after Daxter to smack some sense into him.

"Whatever happens, Tess, we'll look out for one another, understand?" Keira stroked Tess's hair, a mixture of sisterly and motherly gestures. "We're the wives of warriors. We have to be strong… because our husbands might not be there for us."

"Too bad Ashlin isn't here with us," Tess said with a small attempt at humor.

"Ashlin's a warrior herself," Keira snorted. "If anything it's Torn that'll need our help."

Tess laughed but it sounded forced. Keira held her tighter and tried her best to soothe her. A nurse came in and took Maelia away to join the other three babies in the nursery. Tess curled onto her side and fell asleep.

And it was just them two, the warrior's wives.

(To Be Continued)


­A/N: Aw, some female bonding. Considering all that's gonna happen they're gonna need each other… a lot. So yeah, I'm making them close friends. I'm trying to get Ashlin in there, but she's real busy, you know? Ruler of Haven City and all that. And Jak isn't going to return to the story for a while… sorry!

Act V: Torn faces the facts, Keira has to react, and the world crumbles beneath their feet. It's the end of Part One!

Reviews:

Hellmouth2: it's right, I know by writing it people would be curious. The best way to deal with pain (for me) is to talk about it. See, I know a lot of people (and some of them were family) in the World Trade Towers and I grew up in NYC so it was a blow and just recently the little boy I used to babysit died of Leukemia. It was really tough on me since I was there with him for the last few days… I even went to Disney World with him 'cause he didn't want to go without me and my cousins. I've just always been close to death and Lee was modeled after that tiny little boy.

Prexistence: yes, what did happen to Jak? I know, but I ain't tellin'! Mwhahahahahaha! Personally, I like long chapters to and with this one they just keep getting longer. Usually with a my fic I have to worry about not making the chapters long enough, but for this story I have limits on how long a chapter could be or they could go on forever!

Red Mage 04: actually, I have been told on numerous occasions that I am indisputably the queen of all darkness XD I often tend to agree. Either way, this story is going to leave you hanging at quite a few parts. That's just the way it is! Again, I laugh evilly. Mwhahahahahaha!

Specter Von Baron: oh, you evil devil you! pinches cheeks affectionately Isn't it wonderful being a secret keeper (with no pun towards Harry Potter) I love you're continued support and your inspiration! Jak IV would be a crappy sequel, like Episode 1 and 2 of Star Wars, though I am holding out for the 3rd Episode… er… don't let me down George!

Light-Eco-Sage: it has slowly started to consume my entire writing efforts. I can't start another fic in fear that I'll just be dragged back to this one. Apparently… Jak IV doesn't like to share me with my other works…

Whiskers: I wanted to hit Daxter bad too when I reread Act Three… than I was like: oh, I made him that way and started to comfort my poor Daxter. After all… I'm a mean horrible person and he's just always my victim!

Teh Kitsune: no need to blush, poppet, Nik is designed to be hot XD He's no Ron Weasley (what's with my sudden obsession with Harry Potter… oh yeah, new book coming out soon). I saw a model in a picture once and I changed his beach-boy blonde hair to red and had my hunk-a-hunk burnin' love!

Maieve Avvi: seriously, the Grand Canyon ain't got nothin' on this baby. There will be so many depressing drops that you might just go running away in terror and read a much happier piece of writing. Like Lemony Snicket's a Series of Unfortunate Events.

Lyzz2nwn: everyone should feel bad for Daxter… and annoyed at him at same time! And don't be embarrassed at correcting me. I take criticism to the heart and use it to make my fics better. Thank for your contributes! You get a cookie! I sure hope nurses ain't like that or I might lash out at one on my death bed… I'm very passive aggressive until something pisses me off. Than everyone just runs away XD