Guardian-ad-litem

By Snare-chan

Pairings: None
Ratings: PG-13
Category(ies): General/slight AU
Warning(s): Cussing,
Status: Continuation, 4/5
Summary: 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: We're now on the final stretch, only one more chapter to go and then this fic is all done! Actually, the ending of this could be considered a good stopping point for the story (and the longest to boot – weighing in at 10 whole pages!), but I thought I'd be nice and add a bit more closure to the thing.

So tune in next time for the epilogue!

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

I gulped, the sound filling in the silence - besides the normal background noise of people chattering and motors running in the distance. Remember me saying that I wasn't really that worried about Dark Jak? Well I lied, sort of. He's not so scary when he's all up and fighting things, because then he's distracted on other, more demanding matters, but here there isn't exactly anything that can take his mind off say…the baby and me.

Speaking of, the kid seemed to be getting restless again and was starting to blubber and whimper in his arms. Any time now, she'd be announcing to the world our position, and if my hunch is right, then Jak's hyped up super ears will be picking it up twice as bad as he would with his regular sense of hearing. That can only mean he's going to get irritated, and an irritated Dark Jak equals unparalleled danger up the wang.

"Wah…wah…WAAAAAAH!"

I hate it when I'm right in situations like this. Why can't I be right about other things, like completing a mission in the given time frame with no mishaps? That would be cool.

Under me, D. Jak's shoulders squared and tensed, his entire posture turning defensive as he snarled down at the wailing bundle in his arms. Guessing by how the light flickered off those menacing orbs, I suspected he was looking her up and down, maybe checking for injuries or a good point to keep her quiet, before he swiped the cloth aside to get a better look. The swift motion almost sent my heart fluttering into cardiac arrest, my first initial thoughts being that he was going to shut her up permanently with one slash of his claws. I'm not sure if I was just looking too much into it, but I think he was actually being careful not to use them when he did that. He used the sides of his fingers and the pad of his thumb to get it out of the way instead.

Randilyn blinked owlishly up at us and stopped her howls when her cover was pulled aside. I guess she didn't know what to make of him either. Unlike me and my natural instinct to avoid all hazardous situations, kids these days seem to lack such things at birth, because as he tilted his head closer to examine her…she whapped him on the nose.

Oh.

My.

God.

She just hit Dark Jak on the nose. She balled up her tiny fist and whapped him one in the face, just like that. One look and WHAM, BAM, THANK YOU, MA'AM. Now he's going to go A.W.O.L. like he does to red things and have some fucking baby-back ribs oh my god!

Sucking in a horrified gasp, I prepared to do something drastic, like strangle him with my tail if he tried anything lethal, but he only snorted and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. The guy isn't used to being stood up to like that if you couldn't tell, which is why it stands to reason that he should be trying to throw her over a pit and eat her innards. Maybe she'd hit him harder than I thought and dazed him? I can only hope.

Then without warning we were falling over and rolling down the rusted tin roof as the dark one resided and let Jak deal with the mess. To my horror, we hung on by the very edge of it, bordering on tipping over and taking a big drink for a few precious seconds before we dived head first into the dirty water. Ironically, we missed landing on a walkway by just a couple inches, our landing into the murky depths causing a big splash.

As terrified as I was about Jak, I knew I'd really be afraid if I left the kid. Grabbing her first, I managed to swim to the surface and get a big whiff of smog filled air. I found that this tiny body of mine was good for something as I tilted backwards and was able to float on my back, the kid on my chest (and attempting to drown the two of us). Thank you, water-resistant fur!

She calmed as I lifted us up and over onto a nearby dock. I was breathless from the effort of having to carrying her around (how does Jak manage to do it?) and flopped back against the rotting wood as I attempted to catch my breath. When nothing else followed I lifted up my head.

Looking over the side, I really began to worry when all I saw was air bubbles, then fewer and fewer until…there were none. Nervously I bit my lip as my eyes darted across the entire surface of the water, looking for anything that might resemble my partner. There wasn't a single ripple.

Jak couldn't have just…

My best friend…oh my God, not my best friend. Of all the things…of all the ways to go, why did he have to go out like this? Not in a brawl, or from a stab wound that would later lead to gangrene, or against 1,000 metal heads or against Baron Praxis or in a race against Erol. He didn't have a hero's death. He had some sucky mishap that led to him dying. That was it.

Numbly, I sat back on my haunches and brushed against Randilyn's blanket. Turning my head to look at her she ogled me slightly before her bottom lip began to tremble, then she let it all go as she seemed to catch on that something was amiss. She must miss Jak too, and weakly I took her into my scrawny arms, holding her close. This time, I was crying with her.

No one ever told me boys weren't supposed to cry. It had been something I'd always kind of known, deep down inside, that was meant to be followed because that's how society viewed it. It was an unwritten rule somewhere in the universe, so whenever I'd get hurt or scraped I wouldn't shed a tear. Whining and complaining would follow, but never anything resembling a sob or a whimper.

But does this look like a face that cares? No, it's not, because I don't care. I just lost the closest thing to a best friend a person, an ottsel, could ask for. We've been through everything together, from when we were little tots to after we'd busted out of jail. Things like this aren't supposed to happen this way; there had to be some rule out in the stars that said so. What just added salt to the wound was that there was nothing I could do. Jak had risked life and limb for me time and time again, and what do I go and do in his time of need? I watch him drown.

Ok, so now I'm bawling bucket-loads. I was making such a racket that I didn't even notice the wet splosh sound of something behind me.

"Jak you stupid blonde, now look at what you went and did!" I sobbed into Randilyn's pink covers, "I told you, I told you to be careful! But you never listen, never!"

"Dax?"

"And now look at me! I'm hearing your voice everywhere - well listen up, good buddy, from wherever you are! I'll finish this mission, just you watch and see! In your name I'll do it and…"

Stop. Rewind. Pause.

Rapidly, I turned my entire body around, the sight of a sopping wet, water-logged best bud hanging over the edge of the wooden platform greeting me. I rubbed absently at my eyes, unsure if I was going insane and seeing things or if Jak was really there, but the weight in my arms spoke in joyful gibberish and giggled happily as she caught sight of him too. So either we're both going crazy or he's alive.

"JAK!"

With my will and energy completely restored, I pounced him like he was a free six-pack of beer, my entire body managing to wrap around his face and stick to him like a fly to flypaper. He is so not going anywhere without me there with him, so just try and take him from me - that means you, destiny; I dare you to try that kind of stunt again. Hiss hiss.

"Dax…can't breathe…"

"Dun care…" I mumbled, my face snuffling his still-wet hair. Musky, with a hint of gunpowder, day old sweat and grease, and that unmistakable scent that is just Jak. Oh yeah, baby, this is him alright. Jak's the only one I know who can stink this good!

He coughed softly, and after figuring out that I was not going to remove myself cleanly from his neck and face, he pushed himself out of the water onto the dry-ish walkway, which wasn't easy. The kid's bag, however it had survived, probably weighed a ton by now with all the water the stuffed toys and the fabric had sucked up like some mutant sponge. Once he was done wringing out his drenched-through clothes, he pried me off his face, freeing himself and the kid from my mighty death grip.

"So where's the drop off point?"

Oh, right, the mission. I must have forgotten all about it in the moment I found out my sidekick hadn't died via suffocation. Getting comfy on his shoulder (boy, for a moment there I thought I'd never be sitting on this perch ever again!) I pulled out the slip of paper Torn had given to us out from under my goggles. The material was soaked and needed a little work to open without tearing it to shreds. Turning it this way and that I'm a bit embarrassed to say that it didn't make that much sense anymore, the only thing legible on it being the numbers 606. It nighttime didn't help much either.

"Know anyplace with the numbers 606 on it?"

Our heads tilted left.

Our heads tilted right.

Shaking his head, Jak started forward, our eyes peeled for anything resembling the scribbles in my paws. We'd covered about half the cluttered area and then some before coming even remotely close to the right place. The buildings weren't in any sense of order and most of the numbers (if there were any) were washed, rotted, scraped, or torn off all together.

My internal clock was telling me that at least several hours had passed before we stopped in front of a broken down, nearly rotted-through wooden shack from your worst nightmare that was, of all places, situated very close to the entrance of the water slums. The place sort of reminded me of where bad things happen to you late at night, like where ghosts and ghouls hide out, waiting to snatch you from your bed and drag you inside to…

Taking a step forward, the stairs creaked under Jak's heavy weight, the creepiness factor of the place going up several notches on the freak-o-meter. Unknowingly, I crouched tighter on my buddy's shoulder as he knocked, the only thing to respond being a dull, hollowed echo.

"Whelp, looks like nobody is home, better report back to Torn!"

Instead of listening to me like he should, Jak pushed against the door. It creaked on un-oiled hinges. To Jak this seemed like a good enough invitation to go inside.

"Or you could uh…just do that."

The door slammed shut behind us. Instantly my ottsel instincts told me that wasn't a good thing, because now we were trapped like rats in a place we've never been to with very little light to see by, even for me. I think the fur on my back was starting to stick up on end, too.

"Hello?"

Venturing deeper inside, I expected nothing more than an empty room filled with more moldy wood, or maybe some dingy furniture that's more moth food than something worth sitting on, but was surprised to see a laboratory in its place. Beakers filled with bubbling chemicals, test tubes, scientific tools, contraptions of all shapes and sizes…you name it, this kooky example of a mad scientist's lab had it. The place was so cramped with equipment that my tail almost knocked over a nearby set of wires that were sticking off a shelf just above.

"Anyone here?"

"AHAH!"

Jumping through the roof and back, Jak whipped around, a man in a dirtied white lab coat that strangely resembled Vin stood in the place we'd just walked through. How had the guy gotten there without even me hearing it? I swear, the longer we stay, the scarier it seems to get.

"…Vinny boy? I didn't know you were into the whole mad scientist gig." I was the first to speak after the guy's announcement, the silence making me feel very self-conscious. No noise usually means danger in my book.

"Vin…? Oh, me you mean?" the other asked hurriedly, his gloved fingers removing his glasses to clean them briskly, "N-no…I'm Fin. Are you referring to the guy at the Power Station? He's actually my uncle's brother's half-sister's dog's son's owner's second cousin twice removed, on his mother's brother's grandfather's aunt's nephew's side, though I've heard we could be mistaken for twins."

The other laughed lightly, though Jak and I just exchanged weirded-out glances. Lately it seemed like everyone was connected in this place, one way or another.

"Eheh…anyway, enough about my family tree. Is that my new test subject?"

"Test subject…?" Jak held back as the other reached to take Randilyn from him, his eyes hardening at the words 'test' and 'subject'. Looking down at her in his arms, it didn't seem she wanted to be picked up by this Fin guy either, her tiny hands fisting in my friend's tunic. For that matter, she'd been strangely silent ever since we'd arrived.

With his spectacles back on it was hard to figure out what kind of expression the guy was giving us, but from the feel of it he was genially confused.

"Yes…weren't you informed about what I do here for the Baron?"

In one fluid motion, Jak had his gun out and clipped to shoot. He'd picked the red one, his Scatter Gun. It usually took two hits to kill an enemy due to it's more-blunt-than-sharp attack, but at close range it would be brutal to be hit with. Good choice, Jak. Unfortunately, it didn't have any ammo left in it since we still hadn't restocked, but unless we were forced to shoot, Fin wouldn't have to know that.

"W-what are you doing!"

"Enlighten me; what exactly do you do for our lovely Baron?"

Steel lined his voice as he hissed out the command, and for good reason. There are two things about Jak that you have to understand. One is that he was unjustly held prisoner by the high and mighty boss of the city, Baron Praxis, and tortured every at least every day with dark eco. The second is that he hates Wumpbees. A lot. That second fact might not hold a lot of significance now, but I thought I might as well warn you.

"I-I-I!"

"Spit it out!"

Fin yelped and cowered back, his voice becoming high-pitched as Jak continued to threaten him with his weapon. "I-I test the early e-effects of eco on the human b-body, things like that!"

"Is that all?" my partner drawled, his finger twitching on the trigger, "Because if you're not telling me everything…"

The other man 'eep'ed, his hands covering his head as if it could actually protect him. How sorry he'd be to find out that he'd still be blown into a bloody pulp.

"A-and a little dabbling w-with weapons, eco c-conservation…but that's it, I mean it!"

Looking over to one of the tables, Jak nodded towards a large beaker filled with bubbling red liquid, "What about that there; what's that do?"

"It's a…ah…like napalm, a l-liquefied explosive with a h-high destructive capability. W-why?"

Smiling, he made a careless sweep of his hand and smashed the bottle with the tip of his gun, the entire table and side of the building catching onto fire instantaneously. Go get the marshmallows, Georgie!

"Oops; I guess I'm not supposed to use it inside."

Fin gaped at him, his eyebrows shooting up to touch the tips of his white and receding hairline as flames started to lick around us all. The guy almost resembled a fish out of water, come to think of it. Then he was screaming, shrilly like a little schoolgirl, and backing away towards the door.

"Oh my goodness, do you know what you've just done! You've just destroyed twelve years of hard work, you could set the entire water slums on fire o-or…!"

He started to hyperventilate as Jak grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and dragged him out of the burning building, though why he even bothered, I'm not sure. Personally, I think a guy who experiments on little kids would make good fish food (if any fish even live in the dirtied water of the water slums). Then again, if the fishes do eat his ashes, they might become mutated mad scientists too, so we'd have to burn those fishes, and more fishes would eat those ashes, so we'd have to burn them too…

Yeah, it'd be a lot less trouble to just save the freak.

Dropping the passed-out Fin unceremoniously in front of the makeshift fire pit, we stood there and just watched for a while, since Randilyn seemed to really be enjoying the show. She was even clapping! And smiling! And not crying! Oh, glorious day!

This little stunt of ours created a problem though, now that I thought about it – what in the world do we with her now? With no one to take care of her she was stuck with us, and we aren't exactly in the best position to be raising a kid. Never mind the fact of how pissed Torn is gonna be when he finds out what we did…not that I give a rat's tail, especially after he had us almost hand her over to a nut job.

Jak must have been thinking along the same lines, because he sighed heavily and glanced down at the kid still nestled in his arms. "We had better head back."

Giving Fin a good kick to see if he was even alive the guy spasmed, confirming that he'd live another day to face the Baron's wrath. Without his work he'd sure to either be moved to garbage duty or something just as degrading, if the guards didn't use him as a target for lying there in their way as they made their rounds.

Shrugging with a clear conscious we all silently made out way back, not knowing what else could be said. I had a lot of things I could say, however, none of it felt right. Only silence was required as we made the trek back 'home' to the Underground.

Quietly, I observed our surroundings, realizing what a horrible place this was to raise a kid in. I'd say I don't know why I never thought of all this before, but when you're trying to run higher powers into the dirt things like that tend to escape you.

But looking at it all now…there really wasn't a clean speck of dirt anywhere that wasn't littered with evidence of violence and abuse, everyone minding their own business and so absorbed in it they wouldn't give you a second glance even if your life depended on it, guards covering every cross walk, alley, street corner, airway, and building like hawks waiting to attack… I've known since day one that this is a scary place, but to let a kid play in? Explore? Grow up? It's not just a scary place, it's Hell's playground. I mean, just look over there! A woman is sobbing on her knees for Pete's sake.

"…"

Jak double-taked, his foot stopping in mid-step as he looked from the woman I'd just specified to the building beside her, then at me. I mimicked him, only I looked back at him since it was impossible to look at myself without a mirror or a clone. I didn't get it.

"Dax? Do you still have that slip of paper?"

Blinking once, I reached up to my goggles, retrieving the paper from where I'd stuffed it back for safekeeping. I'm convinced I'm genetically a packrat, if that's what you were wondering. He took it from my tiny fingers, his hand tilting it a little this way and that. Turning it around completely so it read…oh. I looked up at the building, 909 reading on the door in a faint, peeling white paint.

"Huh…whoops."

My partner just glared at me before approaching the young woman who was currently staining her tan shawl with snot and tears. I think I see the resemblance. She didn't appear to notice us at first, and for a couple uncomfortable minutes we just stood over her, waiting for her to look up.

"Hey, toots!"

I'm impatient; bite me.

The nameless gal looked up with a sharp intake of air, her eyes peering through wet fingers to stare at us. Wow, Randilyn's mom sure is a babe… Soft brown eyes, matching chocolate-colored hair. Rawr; if she wasn't a couple years my senior she might just be worth attempting to woo with my animal magnetism!

I started back as she went shooting to her feet, another surprised sound escaping her lips.

"Oh my!" With the care only a mother could muster, she took the kid from Jak's arms, wrapping Randilyn in a warm embrace and cuddling her, cooing and whispering sweet nothings at her. She looked up at us after a while of hugging and sweet-talking and typical mom loving stuff, and offered us a watery smile. "I don't know what to say…except thank you."

Bashfully, Jak rubbed the back of his head, not used to actually being thanked for doing a mission. Neither of us is accustomed to it, to be honest, considering half the time it's either an assassination job or it involves destroying private property.

"Aw shucks, it was nothing," I spoke for the both of us, more skilled in this area than my buddy Jak.

Still smiling, the woman looked down at her baby girl, her face glowing with pride and joy. And that look just sort of brought it all together, ya know? Receiving the mission, taking care of her, the trip down here, returning the kid to her rightful place…all the trouble seemed worth it at the end. Boy, and I thought I'd never be saying that about the hell-raiser!

"Still…thank you, both of you."

Jak nodded once, and with one last glance at the child, he turned and left back towards the city. If he was feeling so much as a smidgen of what I was, turning our backs like that had to be the hardest part of this mission. Up till now I hadn't noticed how…I'm not going to say attached, not not not! I am so over that kid; she was horrible to watch over! She pulled on my tail and ripped out my fur and slobbered all over and and…and…ok, so it's obvious I like the kid a little, but that's all. Just a little.

Looking back once, I saw Randilyn and her mother still standing there, watching us go. Like some sappy ending to a sweet action movie the kid waved her tiny hand at our retreating backs. I was compelled to wave back, and if I'd stared on any longer I knew I'd do something stupid (because at dramatic times like this I always do), so I looked back in front of us.

And just like that, we walked towards the sunrise, blending in with the morning crowds who were discussing the day's gossip and making idle chitchat as we disappeared from sight. Just like heroes do.

To Be Continued…