Guardian-ad-litem

By Snare-chan

Pairings: None
Ratings: PG-13
Category(ies): General/slight AU
Warning(s): Cussing
Status: Continuation, 2/5
Summery: When we'd first joined the Underground things were simple – ask for your orders, go out and shoot things, then come back and do it all over again. But this one?

Notes: Wow, I'm surprised this story actually got the responses it did! Thank yous go out to all you cool people who've reviewed so far and are silently stalking this. You all rock hard core. Seriously.

Before I begin, someone asked me recently if 'Guardian-ad-litem' actually had any meaning, so according to 'courtcafe . com / glossary /' it means:

"Generally, the attorney appointed by the Court as the guardian ad litem represents of the child's best interests, while the job of the child's attorney is to be an advocate for the child and the child's wishes. In Connecticut, anyone who cannot communicate their wishes, or who lacks competency to act in their own best interests, may, in order to see that their interests are protected, be given a guardian-ad-litem by the Court. From the Connecticut Probate Practice Book, Rule 1.1.09, "The term Guardian ad litem shall mean a person appointed by the court during any proceeding in which a minor child, undetermined or unborn or class of such person, or a person whose identity or address is unknown, or an incompetent person is a party, to represent and protect the interests of such parties.""

Talk about overkill on the defining, but I thought the word really fit what I was trying to go for in this story. That and it made me think of Jak in a clean pressed lawyer suit, which is just ludicrous - smexy, but ludicrous.

Disclaimer: I don't own Jak II; wish I did like everybody else. They should put Jak II in stock, then I'd buy it all!

Dedication: To my coolest, bestest guy friend ever. If it weren't for him I wouldn't have gotten nearly as far as I have with my Jak II game, which means this story would suck even more than it might already because I'd know Jak shit about what's going on. ;D

If there is one certain thing that I hate, it has got to be mornings. The only thing that even comes close to the hate I feel for mornings (especially Monday mornings!) is a forty-page list filled with more of the things I despise and want to tear up with my tiny little claws; and if you think that's long, you should see the unabridged version!

You see, if I had it my way I'd stay up late into the night then sleep a good portion of the day away. I'm a party animal at heart and lounging around till well past noon is sort of a novelty for me, especially after having a little fun with (the beer) Tess at the bar. Since life saw fit to be my alarm clock, I can't ever wake up on my own; my early hours of the day are filled with odd occurrences and annoyances that just won't let me snooze.

Don't believe me? Well then, please do tell how you'd explain a ceiling fan almost landing on my head, or the time Jak accidentally rolled over on top of me, OR the time I fell off the bed, had the water faucet turned on me, been tossed out with the sheets that needed to be cleaned…

You know I'm right; just leave it at that.

Anyway, this morning had to be one of the weirder ones. Thanks to the crawler, Randilyn, my buddy Jak here and I barely managed to get in an hour or two of winks last night. She wouldn't take anything we gave her, and finally she just tired herself out to the point of sleep, proceeding to wake up almost every hour on the hour with disturbing accuracy. I'm fortunate enough that I can sleep like a rock half the time, however, Jak is more jumpy than Vin without his happy pills and wakes up at the slightest sound.

I think it's safe to say his blonde locks are going to be a bit more untamed than usual, and it isn't just going to be because I got tangled up in them in my sleep…again. Can I help it if his hair keeps me warmer than my own fur? I think not.

After the heartache I had to go through last night just to get a little shuteye, I was hoping to get some more sleep than normal, even if it was just till seven in the morning. I was all nestled up nice and comfy on the pillow (near Jak's hair) when, wouldn't you know it, disaster struck! I think it follows me like a croco-dog in heat, ya know?

One minute I was on the bed, and the next I'm awoken with a yelp resounding in my sensitive ears and I'm being flung almost all the way across the mattress. Luckily, the end of the bed with its upraised metal frame broke my descent across the room. As I was sailing along I was definitely awake and panicking, my little ottsel brain sensing danger and sending me into hyper drive. My mind has a tendency to do that when, for an unknown reason, I'm thrown into experiencing pain.

"What the fucking hell is going on? I don't recall asking for a fucking wake up call!"

You didn't believe me when I told you I'm not a morning person, did you? Well, I did try to warn you.

"…"

The lack of sirens going off and distressed yells of terror and alarm around me was a clue that nothing was really wrong. From the looks of it, and it's not hard to miss since the sight is right stinking in front of me, Jak had a wake up call of his own. Had I been in a better mood and he'd not just accidentally tried to make me the first ottsel in space, I might have pitied him for the fact his goatee looked funky missing the huge chunk on the side – all thanks to the gurgling Randilyn, who had yanked some of it out while he'd been sleeping – but since I'm hardly what one would call an early bird, I didn't have much sympathy to spare for the big guy.

Note to Jak: never sleep with a kid in your arms. It's dangerous to your physique.

With a sigh, I slumped back against the bed frame and slid down it till I was sitting back against it. Tiredly glancing at the clock its bright, bold numbers read barely a hair under two in the morning. Of all the sucky things that could be thrown my way, this has got to be one of the worst. For me it has to be about as close to the top of my shit list, narrowly beat by the incident with me being turned into the fuzzy wonder that I am (which is a long story that can be saved for another time, like never).

As it turns out, it didn't take very long for the kid to grow tired of looking over Jak's tiny chin hairs, the crybaby resuming her sobbing after tossing the stubs aside. Am I the only one surprised that we haven't drowned in her tears yet?

It still escapes me why that sadistic son-of-a-bitch Torn would want us, of all people, to take care of her, now that I think about it. Er…besides the obvious fact that he's out to kill me and/or make my existence a nearly unbearable one.

Having grown up in a village with a total of three kids, all of which were close to my age, and everyone else being old fogies, there wasn't much interaction with anyone nearly half this girl's age. Even if there was a baby in the community, it's not like anyone would have allowed me near them, most likely in fear of me corrupting them or giving them klutz-kooties. That basically means neither of us have done the whole looking-over-little-ones gig.

Not that sun-kissed boy would know that, but still! We're Haven's number one heroes, big ass fighters, and the same people who piss off the city's hierarchy in the middle of the night and strike fear in this hellhole's sewers. We have better things to be doing for the Underground than watching over some little chick.

I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm complaining, huh? With the kid around and on our backs we haven't had any new missions for almost a whole day. No regular heart-stopping routine – only blue skies and relaxation!

Pfffft, wrong! Sorry, do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred skullgems.

With how this kid can scream, I would rather be somewhere doing anything else. Feed me to the metal heads; throw me to the dark eco pits! I'd rather take on Praxis than put up with this.

Torn, the ever helpful bastard that he is, under no uncertain circumstances tossed us out of his sight into one of the rooms, one which, when closed off, is nearly sound proof. Turns out this was planned in advance (whether that's because he knew the baby could cry like you wouldn't believe or just by luck), because there was some equipment for handling a little bundle of joy in it. Necessities like food, clothes, and the all-dreadful reminder, diapers, were tucked away in a small duffle bag on top of a small bedside table.

For the hundredth time I was compelled to say, "You had to ask him about another mission, didn't you?"

I had to shout slightly to be heard, and as I looked back at Jak, it seemed that it didn't matter. The poor boy was dazed and deaf as he was reminded that he was holding a person in his arms and not some deadly bomb. Not that I blame him or anything. The guy is completely out of his element here. You can tell my friend to shoot or take out whole metal head mobs, but socially, he's as inept as a hermit. You'd have better luck with him in a tank full of those good old Lurker Sharks than taking care of anybody, big or small.

Looking at him still, he looked kind of pathetic actually, sitting there and taking the sobbing abuse Randilyn was dishing out in massive waves without a clue. With a look like that going for him, it was a little hard for even my morning persona to ignore him, and considering we're both together in this mess… Sigh. I guess now would be a good time to muster up all my will and go headlong into this thing, huh? If it were me trying to ignore myself, it'd be one thing, but ignoring the screeching as I hopped up onto Jak's shoulder? Near impossible. I managed to get reasonably comfortable in a matter of seconds anyway, at least.

Thinking quickly back to those olden days when I was taller than a couple feet and had buck teeth able to crack open soda pop bottles, there were a couple instances when I'd been desperate and had gone to Keira, the green-haired mechanic extraordinaire, to play with when Jak had gotten hurt enough to be bedridden for about two days. At the time, Keira was a real girl, the kind with dolls and tea sets instead of wrenches and oil grease.

Suffice it to say, in those couple of days without Jak I learned more than enough about little kids and house than I ever wanted to know, and if I'd learned anything, it had to be that babies usually run on three major things: food, attention, and toiletries. If it wasn't one of those three, we are absolutely doomed.

"Ok…you think she's hungry enough to have breakfast?"

Snapping out of his deafened shock, he juggled around a little and reached over to the small carrier loaded down with stuff. How he could concentrate and look around with that racket is beyond me. He managed to find a pre-made bottle of yacow's milk, which the little girl latched onto like a rabid fangirl to new sexy man-flesh.

Hot damn, am I good or am I good?

Even my buddy here had an expression that said 'wow, that actually worked?' written all over his face. It's not easy to impress him, so I definitely let this go straight to my ego.

"How did you know that's what she wanted?"

Instead of going into a detailed explanation of the principals of having had a mute as a best friend and having to read him like a book on a daily basis, I summed it up as, "I just know what woman want."

Expectedly the other just rolled his eyes before relaxing more into the bed, the rusted metal frame creaking in such a manner that I thought it would break under any more strain.

Up to this point we hadn't had much peace and quiet, so the time was spent trying to recover. If that racket had gone on any longer, I'm sure my ears would have probably started to bleed. Ye gods, we haven't even been at this for a whole day yet and I'm already tired! That might be due to the fact that I was woken up quite rudely, but since that's part of the whole watching-over-the-kid ordeal, I think it counts. I'd most likely gather a collective gasp if anyone knew that my thoughts revolved around 'to hell' and 'with women' at this very moment.

Glancing at my partner, he didn't seem to be minding this as much as myself. From what I'd gathered the guy didn't really like kids – not hate, not dislike, not spite, not loath, just not really care for them – and usually avoided them as much as possible. Not only that, but Jak is the type of guy who gets restless real fast and would rather not sit still for even an hour. He could just be eating and he'd still fidget around like he's got something crawling in his pants.

Which was why it was kind of strange to be seeing him sitting so still and calm…or calmer in the situation we'd been thrust into. Thinking back on it, I don't even know when the last time my friend here had just sat back and smelled the roses. The last I could recall was at least back in Sandover… Boy, some friend I am to just be noticing this.

"She's so tiny."

Coming out of my fast-paced musings, I just about missed what he'd said. The words were so soft I'd nearly missed them anyway. Tilting my head, I had to agree; little 'R' was just a few inches shorter than myself (and I'm short, remember?) and close to getting lost in Jak's enormously muscled arms.

"Babies normally are, man."

A soft crackling noise broke the serene scene going on, signaling that her meal was over. Yay, we're back to the drawing board! I'm looking so forward to it my ears are already beginning to bleed on their own. As if on cue, the silence was ruined the second she angrily threw the empty bottle from her grasp, just narrowly missing my midriff as the jug came hurtling in my direction. The chick has good aim; I'll give her that.

Amused, my buddy looked at me as sobs started to fill the room, "Ok, ladies' man, what does she want now?"

Hah, that's so funny I could just cry. See what happens when you open your big mouth, kiddies?

Food was down, which could only mean that what was bothering her was attention deprivation, a dirty diaper, or both. For my sanity's sake, I hope it's only the former.

Lifting my fingers to my temples, I made a show of trying to read her mind, "She wants…she wants…a diamond ring? Wait, no, a chew ring! That's the ticket."

Rummaging around in the bag this time, I miraculously managed to find one in the mess that is the baby's realm of supplies. In the end it didn't really matter, for when I handed it to her she examined the toy with a critical eye and tossed it away in disgust before resuming her bawling.

"Eheh…I meant rattle. Yeah, that's what she wants!"

And so on and so forth it went. Our attempts to keep her occupied enough to stop crying for five seconds was a bum and a half. She threw away the rattle, tried to strangle me with her link-a-doos, beat me with her toy hammer, and whacked me with her stuffed croco-dog. Why me? Jeebus, I think I'm sporting more bruises than if I'd gone on five of Torn's missions and a couple from Onin! Pretty pathetic if you ask me.

The kid seemed to be enjoying it; in fact, I think she was doing it on purpose. No, after the next toy tossed my way and her giggle fits, I was sure of it. How many does she have, anyway?

Is this Torn's child and I wasn't informed about it? I mean, he didn't say it wasn't his, he only said we were delivering her to her legal guardian, which could mean…ew. Ew ew fucking ew oh my god I don't believe that prick could get laid before me just ew! Quick Daxter, think happy thoughts! Mosey along to your blissful place where no thoughts of icky Torn doing the horizontal tango with anyone can torment you!

God, I think that mental image is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

Smack.

If this little girl doesn't kill me first. Growling softly, I was surprised when the baby whimpered instead of going into another round of crying, her big round eyes welling up with even more tears… I guess girls are just born with the ability to beat the hell out of a guy then make him feel like worse crap by just looking at him for just thinking about fighting back.

"Dax, you're scaring her!"

"Well I'm sorry! It's not like you've gotten-!"As I turned to defend myself I came face to face with Jak, his uneven facial hair staring me right in the face. Oh, right, I guess he does know the meaning of pain though torture by child-watching.

Whatever argument the big guy and I had going was crashed as something worse than the perfume of the sewers filled the air, my sensitive nose doing the hula as it picked up the horrid smell right away.

…

Heh, and it isn't even past four in the morning yet.

To be Continued…