A/N: Yakko Warner: a witty, fast-talking practical joker, yet capable and independent. But everyone has someone who helped to shape who they become.

CHAPTER IX

The eleven days between Harry's death and the funeral had stretched out endlessly, time slowing down so much that Yakko was convinced the clock had stopped.

He had tried to behave normally, trying to keep Wakko and Dot in a routine. Jacqueline had not interfered; there was an unspoken understanding between herself and Yakko about it that they never discussed. If he needed help, he knew how to ask for it, and she would be willing to give it.

Wakko and Dot had both reacted differently to Harry's death; Dot had ups and downs, and she was often almost incontrollable, whereas Wakko retreated into his shell, barely speaking, barely eating. Yakko had done his best to be understanding. He knew they weren't deliberately behaving badly – they were simply unhappy.

They were all unhappy.

Yakko had kept a brave face on during the day, determined he would keep his promise to his creator to look after his siblings, though every time he laughed or smiled he felt instantly guilty. How could he laugh? His creator was dead; the nearest thing he'd ever have to a father was gone, and he'd never see him again. To smile was an atrocity; to laugh was unforgivable.

He had tried to explain this to Jacqueline during one of their talks after putting Wakko and Dot to bed. When the two were finally asleep Yakko could drop the act and he would talk to his adoptive grandmother over a drink in the tiny kitchen.

Neither of them were quite sure how this soon regular habit was initiated. It was a mutual thing, really; Yakko, whilst used to being the eldest, the responsible one, found it a relief to have someone there to fall back on, to help out when Dot was playing up to her best ability and Wakko point blank refused to eat his food for the hundredth time.

Likewise Jacqueline, although quietly full of her own grief at the death of her son, was of the school who believed the best way to stop dwelling on your problems was to listen to someone else's – and she was inordinately fond of her fast talking, sharp-witted grandson. It pained her to see him so unhappy. Jacqueline Warner never played favourites with her grandchildren, but if she had her favourite might just have been Yakko.

So they kept each other company in the cramped, poky kitchen, Yakko seated on one of the counter tops, Jacqueline leaning against the old sink. Sometimes they said nothing at all; other times they had private conversations which went on until late into the night.

The night before the funeral was probably the worst; Yakko didn't even bother to go to bed. Jacqueline nearly jumped out of her skin when she switched on the light to find her grandson on the counter top, swinging his legs over the edge in the pitch black.

"What are you doing in the dark, Yakko? You gave me the fright of my life!"

"Sorry."

"At least switch the light on. I nearly died of a heart attack."

Yakko's ears played back.

"Don't say that..."

"I'm sorry, Yakko. I didn't mean..."

She trailed off before patting him on the shoulder with an apologetic smile.

"Let's start again. Want something to drink?"

Yakko tried to raise a smile.

"Sure. Vodka and coke, please, Jacqueline."

"I'll give you Jacqueline, Yakko Warner. And sure, vodka and coke. Thing is, we're fresh out of vodka."

She poured him a glass of the fizzy liquid, before giving him a smile.

"Ah, I miss hearing your witty remarks, Yakko. Good to see you smiling."

"I-I feel so guilty..."

"You're too hard on yourself. Harry wouldn't expect you to go around weeping and wailing like a banshee."

"Yes, but I feel I shouldn't smile...or laugh. It seems terrible...how can I laugh when-"

"Someone you love has died? I know Yakko. I've asked myself these things before, three or four times over, each time someone in my family has passed on. But what you've got to remember is, you're the one who's still living. And you've got a little brother and sister who look up to you and adore you. I know it might not always seem like it when they have you up half the night -"

Yakko smiled sheepishly. He'd tried to keep Dot pacified at bedtime but he guessed she hadn't been quiet enough.

"-but they DO adore you. If that's not something to live for, I don't know what is."

She looked out of the kitchen window, keeping her gaze straight ahead, before speaking again.

"How are they getting on?"

"Not great. Dot's so up and down I can barely keep track of her, and Wakko's totally the opposite end of the scale. He won't eat anything, he barely even speaks. If I try and ask him how he feels he either gets mad or pulls his ears down so he can't hear me. I don't know what to do to help them."

"Everyone deals with things differently, Yakko. Some people like to surround themselves with good memories; others want to shut them out altogether. Give them time. Be there to listen, but expect them to lash out at you."

He looked at her. Perhaps she was telepathic, because after a moment she said,

"And you can lash out at me, if you want to."

They both laughed; a strange, alien sound in the house at that time. She put her mug down on the counter.

"Time for bed I reckon, my boy. We've got a rough day tomorrow."

Yakko grimaced. Sleep was altogether unkind to him at the present time; 'bedtime' was a word to be dreaded. Dot usually chose that time to become near-hysterical, whilst Wakko would pull his blankets over his head, silent and unresponsive. Yakko did his best to comfort them. He put Dot to sleep; he put Wakko to sleep.

He wanted someone to come and put him to sleep.

Then, of course, to top it all off, there were the nightmares.

Jacqueline stopped by the door briefly, without looking back.

"If you need me at all Yakko, you know where to find me."

He flushed; she knew.

It was something Yakko was ashamed of; here he was, a lad of twelve, waking up reduced to trembling wreck. He was almost a teenager for goodness' sake. He should be able to deal with it. Sometimes he slept for hours without trouble, lulling him into a sense of false security – the dreams were gone, they were over – then he heard the three loud knocks on the door, saw the faces of the police officers, and all the while somewhere nearby that he couldn't quite locate he could hear car brakes squealing, a terrible crunching, the sound of metal tearing metal.

A distant scream always ended the sequence, getting louder and louder until Yakko woke up and realized it was coming from his own throat.

That night, the night before the funeral of Harry Warner, the nightmares didn't bother Yakko.

He didn't sleep a wink.

They sat in the back of the funeral car, uncomfortably clothed in their best attire, newly bought for the occasion.

Yakko loosened the tight collar of his shirt for the hundredth time, feeling as though it might strangle him. The funeral director was originally going to have them travel alone, in the second family car, but Jacqueline was having none of it and saw to that they were together in the main car, with her riding in the front.

Yakko had to admire her. She was stoic, even now, though he knew she was far from unaffected by what was going on. He hoped he was going to manage to stay strong for Wakko and Dot; right now they were clinging to a hand each, Dot uncharacteristically silent, Wakko sitting with his beloved baseball cap over his face, shaking with the effort of trying to hold everything back.

Look after your siblings for me.

Those words kept coming back to Yakko; he couldn't shake from his mind that it was the last thing Harry had said to him. He was determined to keep that promise, as long as he lived.

It was a beautiful day, the sun shining brightly, little fluffy clouds unmoving in the azure sky. It was the WRONG day for such an occasion. Shouldn't it be dark, wet, miserable, the way they all felt inside? On the streets people were going about their day; couples holding hands, young families taking their kids to the park; how could the world carry on as if nothing had happened?

Some people and cars stopped as the hearse drove through; a teenager, covered in multiple tattoos and uncountable rings through every part of his face stopped and removed his hat.

That person would never know how much Yakko appreciated that; a rare mark of respect in these unfeeling times.

They drew up slowly outside the church, then got out and stood aside as the pall-bearers unloaded the casket. It was closed; it had had to be. Yakko didn't like to think of the reason why.

Jacqueline stood with her arms round all three of them; a small gesture, but it seemed to give them all a little strength; Yakko tried to stand up a bit straighter, Dot smoothed her dress, Wakko removed the hat from his face.

Yakko knew that as immediate family they would follow the coffin down the aisle with Jacqueline. He didn't want to. For once he didn't want anyone to look at him, or to take any notice of him at all.

He kept his gaze fixed on the stone floor as they made their way to the front pew of the church. He felt all eyes on them; it was the last tradition you needed at a funeral, really. Wait until everyone was seated inside, then have you parade to the very front of the congregation.

We would like to present: the deceased's grieving family!

Yakko sat with Wakko on one side, Dot on the other. He looked at Jacqueline as she took her place next to them - their eyes met and she gave him a brief nod; a way of asking if he was alright.

He nodded back, keeping himself together, though he wasn't all right at all. He didn't want to be the big brother, the responsible one. He wanted to sit next to his grandmother and hide his face in her shoulder, like a baby.

The pall-bearers bowed to the casket one last time before the preacher appeared to make the eulogy. Yakko couldn't take any of it in. He kept his arms round his siblings, focusing on staying strong. He didn't realize until later on that it was them who had kept him going.

Then it came to the speeches. Several people the Warners had never met made their contributions; previous workmates, old school friends and even some ex-girlfriends, though they obviously hadn't seen Harry for years. Yakko wondered why his creator had never been in touch with any of them.

Did he give it all up for us?

He was thinking about this when Jacqueline stood up; Yakko remembered she had her own speech to make too. He squeezed her hand as she walked past. She did not stop or look back, but she lingered for a fraction of a second, squeezing back gratefully.

She made her way to the altar and prepared to address the congregation. She looked so small as she stood alone at the front of the church; suddenly Yakko saw not his grandmother standing there, but a girl almost as young as him, stripped of someone she'd loved dearly.

How awful it must be to have your child die before you.

Yakko thought about how he would feel if he were to lose Wakko or Dot; the thought alone was enough to make his eyes fill with tears.

He turned his attention back to Jacqueline. She stood up straight, smoothed out her black dress, and opened her mouth to start.

Nothing happened. She stood shaking at the front of the church; she tried to remain utterly composed but her mouth was trembling. Yakko looked around the church. Everyone was staring at her, open-mouthed, but not a single person was coming to her rescue. He felt a stab of his old, headstrong defiance.

If no-one else would help her, he would.

He stood up. His legs felt like they might liquefy but this was no time for a visual gag. He managed to control himself and stumbled up to the altar.

"Sit down." He whispered shakily to Jacqueline before turning to face his audience. There were a good fifty people in the church, but it might as well have been thousands. He almost backed down and bolted when he suddenly heard Harry's voice in his mind; a conversation from long ago, that until that point Yakko had forgotten.

"You're a strong character, Yakko. In the future, when you first open your mouth in public, people are going to remember your name. Even if they don't like you, they won't be able to ignore you. You stand out too much for that."

He could do this. He would make his family proud. He focused on them; they were who he was doing this for. He looked out into the sea of faces.

"My name is Yakko Warner. Perhaps some of you know about me and my siblings. Harry created us to help fulfil his dreams; dreams of getting into the cartoon business."

There was a stirring amongst the listeners. Yakko continued.

"Harry wasn't like other toon creators. He didn't want to sell us off to any old company and make a quick buck; he wanted us to be successful and do great things. That's why his dream became our dream. He treated us as if we were his real children; we had no other parents and, with Harry, we didn't need them.

When none of the local schools would accept us, Harry took over our education himself. He taught us to read and write, our basic math, and he encouraged us to practice our toon skills, though I think sometimes he regretted that last one."

Quiet laughs from the congregation. Yakko stopped and swallowed, his mouth drier than a desert.

"It wasn't all boring stuff. He taught us other things; he taught me how to speak Japanese, he taught Wakko how to play violin, he taught Dot how to draw. He was terrible at anything but cartoons-" – another laugh – "but he taught her just the same.

We weren't a perfect family. We had our fights, our disagreements, just like everyone else. But inside we knew we didn't mean it – or even if we did at the time – come the next day and it was all water under the bridge.

Harry worked so hard for us. He wanted us to achieve anything we wanted in life. He wanted to see us be successful, for our own sakes. We intend to keep that dream alive."

Yakko turned to the closed casket.

"Goodbye...Dad. I hope we make you proud."

He turned back to the congregation. He was worried that the speech was too much, too over the top, but there was not a single person that he could see that didn't have tears in their eyes. He looked anxiously at Jacqueline.

The elderly woman was now totally composed. She placed an arm around Yakko's shoulders, and gently steered him back to the pew, where Wakko and Dot fell against him as soon as he sat down.

They settled into a routine. They couldn't help it; there was very little else left to focus on. They practiced their toon abilities, they made up silly jokes, Yakko treated the bedroom mirror to his best comebacks on a daily basis, but all it felt like they were doing was going through the motions, without at goal, without a purpose. Yakko had barely given a second though to the future; it was hard enough battling through the present.

The future was decided for them in a somewhat frenzied rush that began one afternoon during a late lunch. The one thing that relieved Yakko was that much of Wakko's enormous appetite had returned, and they had all been scrambling to get a hold of at least one sandwich before he demolished the lot, when there had been a knock at the door.

Still half-hearted but with a pinch of their old enthusiasm, the crockery in the kitchen had rattled with the all too familiar cry of "I'll get it!" Jacqueline had to resist the temptation of climbing onto the draining board to get out of their way.

In the end they all got to the door at the same time. It was a very odd sight of three toons - seemingly conjoined at some point of their anatomy – that greeted the man in a black Armani suit who stood on the front door step.

Yakko stood with Dot hanging from his neck and Wakko swinging on his arm. He paused slightly before speaking as nonchalantly as possible.

"May I help you?"

"I'm looking for the Warners...uh...is that you?" He looked as if he hoped they weren't.

"Yes, we're the Warner Brothers..."

"..and the Warner sister!" Dot piped up. "What can we do for you?"

"What can you do? What can you do?!" Armani Suit was a little over-excited, to say the least. He waved a letter in their faces. "How can you even ask that? You were up for an audition on Monday with some of the biggest producers in the business. You don't show up, I spend the last three days searching for you, and all you can say is 'What can we do'?!"

Yakko looked at the letter in astonishment. They'd forgotten all about it, the reason why Harry had left that night in the first place. He'd still be here if he hadn't...

Yakko looked at the floor. When he spoke again, his voice was very soft.

"Why on earth would they send you looking for us? There's plenty of toons in the business...why didn't you just find someone else?"

"Someone else?!" Armani Suit clearly had a talent for echoing. "You don't know this casting director.* After the pitch Mr Warner gave us, he insists it's you. Won't take no for an answer. Let's get going!" He tried to pull Yakko towards the car; the eldest Warner shook him off irritably.

"No."

"What?!"

"I said 'no'. You just expect us to drop everything? Right now? We didn't even know about this audition..."

"You would have if you hadn't moved without leaving a forwarding address."

"Oh, well I'm very sorry-" dripping sarcasm – "but we had a little too much on our plates to think about that at the time! We can't just walk away because someone we've never met snaps their fingers!"

"Oh yes you can." Jacqueline's voice came from behind them. She put her hand on Yakko's shoulders. He didn't push her away as she turned him to face her.

"What did you say not three months ago at the funeral?"

"What funeral?" Armani Suit also didn't seem to know how to keep out of private conversations. Jacqueline ignored him altogether.

"Well? What did you say?"

"That...that I wanted to keep Harry's dream alive."

"Right. And what about you two?" She looked at Wakko and Dot. "Isn't that what you wanted too?"

"Uh-huh."

"Yes, ma'am."

"So you're all in agreement. This is your chance; I'll be damned if you're going to miss it." She squared up to Mr Armani Suit. "And you can hold your horses while my grandchildren get a few of their things together. You're three days late already, why rush now?"

Having quickly put two and two together from the conversation that he'd unashamedly listened to between Yakko and Jacqueline, the man nodded agreement, somewhat shamefaced.

Yakko looked around the bedroom they'd been staying in since Harry's death. They didn't have a lot; toys seemed to have lost their charm at the moment. Only Dot half-heartedly cuddled a teddy when she fell asleep, and it was only because she'd had it since the start. Aside from clothes and an old family photo album, they put only their most valued possessions into their hammerspaces; Yakko a pair of paddleballs and Dot her old flower hair band. Wakko's most prized item was his red baseball cap, which was always on his head anyway. All were gifts from their creator.

Their unexpected visitor was irritably tapping his foot as he waited by the door. None of them took any notice as they fell on Jacqueline for one last hug. She kissed each of them in turn then ran her hand gently over Yakko's head.

"You remember what I've told you, Yakko Warner. It's up to you three now; but if you ever need somewhere to go, you come here. Whatever you've done, or whatever you haven't done, this will always be your home. Whether it's because your time in the limelight is over, or even if you're in serious trouble, you can always come back here." She cleared her throat. "Enough of this sentimental crap; go now, before I change my mind and keep you all prisoners here forever."

The Warners bounded down to the stretched Mercedes that waited for them and climbed in. They crammed themselves into the back window, waving and waving until they rounded the corner as the car drove away, transporting them to their new life.

In his mind's eye, that was always the way Yakko remembered Jacqueline Warner; standing by her red front door, waving and occasionally kissing her hand in their direction until they were out of sight forever.

* I know the real casting director was Andrea Romano. I'm just making things up xD