Chapter Text
Rachel wakes up with her nails hardening into claws.
The grizzly morph is second nature at this point. Sometimes she feels more at home with blood matted in her fur than she does in the skin she was born into.
She sits up to locate herself in her surroundings- she’s in a bed, and scratchy sheets tangle around her sweat-clad body. She’s been twisting in her sleep from a nightmare, if the fading adrenaline and the jump-started grizzly morph is anything to go by.
Breathe. How did you get here?
Rachel sucks in a breath, the morph halting as it floods in at her. She’s in the same hotel she’s been staying at for weeks now. Jordan, Sarah and their mother are sleeping in their own rooms across from her. They’re safe, just like Rachel’s safe.
It makes her laugh, a soft, bitter thing. They tried to send her to a therapist a month ago.
Hypervigilance, the therapist had said.
PTSD, she had said.
She probably had more to list off, but she had shut up pretty fast when Rachel had threatened to tear her eyes out and started going grizzly to do it.
The memory makes her sigh. She shouldn’t have done it, but she shouldn’t have done a lot of things.
Thinking about it instantly brings her back to Tom, the moment before Rachel murdered him. The cry that cut off in his throat-
No, Rachel thinks. Her eyes squeeze shut against the images. No, I was right about that. That was necessary. Jake knew it, too.
She sits there for a few minutes, breathing in and out through her half-made throat, her face stuck as half-muzzle, half-human.
She goes stiff when the door opens, the adrenaline coming back with a vengeance, a battle plan already in her head. She’d barrel at them in a malformed mess of grizzly-human and hope her nails were sharp enough to dig into their throat-
“GAHHHH,” Jordan yells, recoiling. “SHIT!”
Shit, Rachel agrees. “I’m telling Mom you said that,” she says aloud, and it comes out slurred through her mostly-human mouth. The nerves are still there, racing through her edges, but she tells them to calm the hell down. It’s her sister, for fuck’s sake. Jordan has never been a threat.
She starts morphing back, fur smoothing out into skin. “Sorry,” she says when her teeth are blunt again.
Jordan wavers at the door. She still isn’t used to it- how many times has she seen Rachel morph? Less than five times, at the most. “Bad dream?”
You don’t know the half of it. “Yeah,” Rachel says.
Then she starts getting out of bed, because Jordan looks like she’s going to start saying things like that therapist lady told us you’re gonna need to talk about stuff, and that’s the last thing Rachel wants to deal with right now.
“Breakfast on?”
Jordan nods, still looking wary.
“What is it?”
“Bacon and toast.”
“Awesome,” Rachel says. It feels wooden in her mouth.
Jordan sticks at her side as they make their way into the lounge. At one point their shoulders bump and Rachel has to fight the urge to jerk away. She still flinches, and she thinks Jordan notices.
Positive touches, Rachel knows, is another thing that therapist told her family to do with her. Because Rachel’s been through a war. Because she was a child soldier. Because she did unspeakable things and a lot of them involved getting ripped apart and Rachel needs to be reminded that touches can help as well as harm.
Which Rachel knows. She does. It’s just harder in practice, is all. Harder when all she expects after a touch is a hit to be coming her way.
There’s a woman in the kitchen in pressed clothing burning the toast. Civilian, Rachel thinks as the woman curses under her breath.
The woman turns and beams when she sees Rachel. “Hey, you hungry?”
“Yeah,” Rachel says, though she isn’t sure it’s true. She hasn’t been eating much lately, nor getting hungry, which should worry her. “Thanks, mom.”
Naomi- mom- beams again as she hurries to the table with a plate. “It’s a little overdone, sorry.” Then she pauses. She leans over and presses a quick kiss to Rachel’s hairline. She’s been doing it often, since the attempt at therapy.
Positive touches, Rachel thinks.
“It’s fine,” Rachel says. Her mother, who hasn’t cooked more than a dozen meals for her in her whole life, has been making her breakfast, lunch and dinner since about a week after the war ended officially.
Rachel pokes at her breakfast. Her mother has cut her bacon into a smiley-face which lies on top of the toast. Gotta admire her stubbornness.
Sarah comes in, bleary-eyed and yawning. “Morning.”
“Morning,” they all answer back.
Sarah comes to slump at the table. “Mom? When’s my breakfast ready?”
But Naomi is turning off the stove and dropping the pan in the sink where it sizzles in protest. “I actually have to get going, I have a meeting about a new job-”
Rachel continues chewing her toast and bacon. She thinks she remembers her mom talking about that a few nights ago- they fired her from her last one, since ‘gone into hiding to protect self and family from being murdered by aliens for leverage’ wasn’t an available excuse at the time.
“-so you’re going to have to make it yourself, honey,” Naomi continues, wiping a grease stain off of her shirt. She looks up to shoot a quick, apologetic smile at Sarah, who looks livid.
“You made Rachel breakfast!”
“Rachel-” Naomi wets her lips and doesn’t look at her. “Rachel’s been through a lot, you know that.”
Rachel glances over at Jordan, who is staring down at the table. Huh.
Sarah’s mouth opens.
There’s a knock on the door.
Everyone turns to look at it. Both Jordan and Rachel move to get up, but Naomi darts forwards in front of them. “I’ve got it.”
She disappears down the hall.
“Who do you think it is,” Jordan asks. She’s been getting taller lately, now that Rachel looks closely. She’s adopted the stretched look of a pre-teen, all elbows and legs- she might end up being as tall as her big sister.
Rachel shrugs, but a dozen suspects run through her mind. She shovels more toast into her mouth and looks over at Sarah, who glowers.
Jordan asks, “Do you think it’s another one of those government people?”
She sounds worried, but the kind of worried that means she’s trying to talk herself out of it.
Rachel chews and swallows. “Maybe.”
Jordan tears her gaze away from the hall to stare at Rachel. Why aren’t you more worried about this, the stare says.
The toast sticks in Rachel’s throat. Her throat works several times to swallow it. “It’s going to be fine, Jordan.”
In a very tiny voice, Jordan says, “I heard they made Jake go to a trial for his- war crimes.”
That gets Sarah’s attention, her face shifting into confusion. “What? Jake’s a hero!”
She doesn’t get it yet. The things that had to do to end the war. Rachel’s simultaneously very glad and dreading the inevitable. She hates to think what her youngest sister’s face will look like when she hears that Rachel mauled people to death on a regular basis.
She hopes none of her family find out she enjoyed it.
Jordan glances at Rachel for support, because even if Rachel is ‘fragile’ at the moment, a habit is still a habit.
Rachel looks at Sarah and has no idea what to say. “Jake is a hero,” she says eventually, and goes back to her toast, wishing Sarah would leave it alone.
“So why are they- ow,” she snaps, presumably from where Jordan had kicked her under the table. “I’m just asking. I’m allowed to ask.”
“Not about some things,” Jordan says.
Rachel feels like she should disagree, but she doesn’t. She could live without ever hearing certain questions.
Sarah’s jaw locks. She looks as if she’s seconds away from storming away from the table and slamming the door to the room she’s sharing with Jordan.
That’s when their mom’s voice comes from the hall. “Rachel! Marco’s here.”
“He’s-” Rachel hastily swallows the last of her toast, then chokes on it. “He’s what,” she manages. “Mom?”
Naomi emerges from the hall, smiling like she isn’t sure she should be. Marco flanks her, hands in his pockets, grinning at Rachel like they’re meeting at the mall to go to the Gap.
“Hey, Rach.”
“Marco,” Rachel says slowly.
“Rachel,” Marco says, equally slow. He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Haven’t seen you since you flatlined on us. Well, I did, but you were unconscious after nearly getting mauled to death.”
She shrugs. It’s jerky. “I got better. That wasn’t a Monty Python reference, don’t-”
“I won’t.” He rolls his eyes. “I have some measure of maturity, gosh.”
“Mm.” She folds her arms, all too aware of her family’s gaze on them. “Heard you turned 17.”
“I did!” He flashes his teeth at her again. “Got my drivers’ licence, too.”
“First one in the group,” Rachel says, then wishes she didn’t. They aren’t a group anymore, they had been disintegrating before the war had even ended.
Marco notices. Of course he does, he’s Marco. But because he’s Marco, he doesn’t mention it. What he does do is say, “I am, and I’m going to hold it over all of your heads forever.”
Rachel looks him over and is surprised to see he’s actually gotten taller. He might be Cassie’s height now. His hair is glossy, cut stylishly around his ears.
She feels her own hair hanging in lank curtains on both sides of her face. The last time she washed it was… Tuesday? Wednesday? Before Friday, definitely.
“What happened to your clothes,” she hears herself ask.
Marco looks down at them. “What, these old things?”
“They’re not old. They’re new. They’re good. Did the war ending suddenly cure your fucked fashion sense?”
Her mother says, “Rachel,” in the same tone that she used before she noticed her daughter was falling apart around the edges.
“I can say fuck,” Rachel says. She doesn’t snap it. Maybe she should. It sounds like the sort of thing she should snap, but her voice comes out calm and even until it starts to shake. “I can say fuck, okay, I can swear, I fought a war, I’ve killed so many people I can’t count them and I did it with my own paws, I killed Tom, I’ve had all of my limbs ripped off a dozen times each, I CAN SAY FUCK.”
It escalates to a yell and then cuts off quickly as Rachel feels her throat start constricting. She squeezes her eyes shut. It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re safe. The war’s over, it’s out of your hands, you don’t have to do anything.
She startles out of it when the phone starts to ring.
“Answer it,” she sighs when Naomi doesn’t do anything about it.
Naomi wavers, but then she’s ducking past Rachel to take the phone off the wall. “Hello? Yes, it’s- yes, I’m still coming. I’ll be a little late, something came up. Yes. Thank you.”
During this, Rachel looks at the wall near Marco’s face. He’s definitely gotten taller.
“I have to go,” Naomi says. She looks at all her daughters, then at Marco.
“I thought I’d stay and chat with Rachel,” Marco says.
Naomi looks dubious, but she says, “Okay,” and goes to get her handbag. “I’ll be back in an hour, okay?”
Both of the youngest daughters mutter some semblance of ‘okay,’ but Rachel stays quiet. She allows her mother to touch her shoulder, but shies away from the cheek-kiss.
“Let’s go into my room,” Rachel tells Marco so she won’t have to see her mother’s face wilt.
“Oh, the dreams I used to have about you saying that,” Marco says once they’re out of earshot. Then he coughs. “Sorry. Kidding.”
“Never gonna happen, Marco.” She smiles. It’s weak, but it’s the most genuine smile she’s produced in a while. She had almost forgotten Marco’s irritating charm, how it grew on her after a while.
“I know it isn’t,” Marco says, standing back to let Rachel open the door. “Believe me, I stopped even considering it would be a thing a year ago. Now it’s just habit. I know we’ll only ever be friends, I’m cool with it.”
Rachel stops, turning to face him. “Are we, Marco? Friends?”
Marco’s smile shutters. His eyes go serious. “I want us to be, Rach. I want all of us to be friends.”
“Fat chance.”
“Rach-”
“We’re so fucked up, Marco.” Rachel sits down on her bed. It’s still damp from her sweat. “We’re so fucked up.”
“What, us or our friendship?”
“Both.”
“Yeah.” Marco leans against the wall and rubs his thumb against his lip. “Yeah.”
Rachel looks over at him. He looks good, none of the bags under his eyes that were present for the whole last year of the war. He’s filled out, his shoulders getting broad under his shirt. And he looks more assured of himself.
“I heard you went on a talk show,” she says.
He looks up. “You didn’t watch it?”
“No. I’m avoiding the TV.” If the TV isn’t talking about the Animorphs, they’re talking about Yeerks, or Andalites, or other things that frequent Rachel’s nightmares.
Marco shrugs. “Fair enough.”
He pushes off the wall and comes to sit next to her on her bed. It sags under his weight. “Hey, are you doing okay?”
She gives him a look.
He laughs. “Yeah, dumb question.”
“You think?” She pulls her knees up, tucks them under her chin. She still can’t decide if she feels irreparably old or stupidly young, sometimes. Now is one of those times. “Why are you here, Marco?”
“I got a driver’s licence.”
“Good for you. So what?”
“So,” he says, and looks over at her. She’s starting to think he came out of the war with the least scars. “Let’s go on a road trip.”
She stares at him. “What, together?”
“Yeah. All of us, shooting the breeze. Claiming that open road. Racing down the highway-”
“Marco.” Her tone cuts him off short. “None of us have seen each other in months. I don’t even know where anyone is. Is Jake even allowed to leave that government place he’s been staying at?”
“So you know where Jake is.”
“Yes, I know where one of you is,” Rachel snaps.
“Lucky for you, I actually keep in contact with my friends. Well, I’ve been trying to. Everyone’s kind of been…” Marco trails off.
“Fucked up,” Rachel supplies.
Marco nods. “Good choice of words. Everyone’s been fucked up since the war ended. I mean, hey, we were fucked up before, but now we gotta actually deal with it. And we don’t have any impending doom looming over our heads to distract us.”
“Wow, I miss that impending doom,” Rachel deadpans.
“That’s the spirit,” Marco says. He reaches like he’s going to squeeze her shoulder, then pauses. “If I touch you, are you gonna spaz out?”
“No,” Rachel says, before even considering it.
Marco drops his hand anyway. “If we keep on going like this, we’re gonna have mental breakdowns.”
“I’m already having one, Marco.”
“A bigger mental breakdown, then.” Marco folds his hands in his lap, then bends over to stare at them. His fingers twist together. “And maybe I miss you guys, alright?”
He looks up at her at that, a thin smile on his face.
Has Rachel missed them? The automatic answer is yes, of course- she’s bled with them, she’s held their intestines inside their bodies while they morphed. They spent the better part of three years in near-constant communication: sitting together at school hanging out at the mall, running for their lives, sitting in the barn planning their next assault.
Rachel’s thought about them over the past few months: a distant Cassie would like this or god that reminds me of that time when Ax-
But she had always shoved the thoughts down and concentrated on sleeping, or working out, or aggressively watching old movies until spots appeared in her vision.
“None of us are on good terms, Marco.”
“None of us were on good terms before the war ended, either, and we still hung out.”
“Because we were ending a war, Marco.” Rachel sighed, pushing her hands over her eyes before dropping them back down to the bed. “Maybe it’d be better if we just- let things lie.”
Marco’s lips go white as he presses them together. His gaze goes calculating, like it did when he was about to suggest a tactic that would get them out of the clusterfuck they always seemed to get themselves into. “So you’re saying that instead of going on an exciting adventure across the Midwest, you’d rather lounge around in your sweatpants all day, trying to forget last night’s screaming nightmare before you have to sleep again?”
Rachel narrows her eyes at him.
Marco continues, “Instead of braving the wilds in an outstanding act of courage and guts, you’d rather wallow in your own PTSD and ignore everything that’s outside your hotel room?”
“Marco.”
“Instead of waging a battle against the beasts of-”
“Who else is going?”
Marco blinks. “Wow, I didn’t think you’d actually go for that. Uh, I don’t know. You’re the first one I’ve asked.”
Rachel grits her teeth. “All of us stuck in a car together for eight hours a day for however many days sounds like it’s going to end in homicide.”
“It wouldn’t be long,” Marco promises. “A week. Maybe two.”
He straightens up, angling so they’re facing each other again. “Come on. You want to stay cooped up here? Really? You’re Rachel. You’re Xena, the warrior p-”
“Don’t.”
“Yeah, thought not.” He scratches at the back of his head. The usual flop of his hair is bouncier. Has he been using product? “At least consider it?”
Rachel takes in his hopeful face, his big, brown eyes that aren’t clouded with any of the bullshit Rachel is sure her eyes are glazed with. How the hell did Marco get out of this without scars knotting up his insides?
“I’ll go if everyone else does,” she says.
Marco fistpumps like he’s a regular 17 year old who’s never turned into a gorilla and ripped out a man’s spine. “Yes! Fuck, okay, good. Do you want to come with me to get Jake? He’s next.”
He must see something in her face, because he clears his throat. “His parents won’t be there. They aren’t allowed on the facility.”
Rachel nods tightly. “Then I’ll go.”
Jake, she can cope with. After all, he’s the one who ordered her to kill Tom. But Rachel doesn’t think she could stomach seeing Jake’s parents after she murdered their eldest son in cold blood.
-
Everyone looks up at Jake when he walks into the mess hall.
Jake bites back a sigh. He’s been here for a month, and everyone still shut up and stares at him whenever they notice his presence.
He gets his food given to him, then goes down to sit at an empty table. The food here is crap, but he’s eaten worse back in the school cafeteria.
Briefly, he wonders how the school took the news that a bunch of teenagers were secretly fighting an alien war for several years. The whole school probably talked about some of the weird shit that happened- like that time Cassie took a dodgeball to the nose and didn’t notice her nose was gushing blood until someone told her, and then how she was puzzled for a second as to why a bleeding nose would be a problem when she had her arm sliced off by a Hork-Bajir blade last night. Like their odd absences, how tired they always were, how they seemed older than they were, sometimes.
He wonders if they know that weird exchange student they dragged along sometimes who said words like it was the first time he had ever said them and had an obsession with food was actually Ax in human morph.
From across the room, one of the agents catches his eye. Jake expects him to look away hastily, but instead he gets a respectful nod before the agent goes back to talking with his friend.
Another thing about staying here: when they aren’t treating Jake like a war criminal, they’re treating him like a soldier.
Jake finishes off his sandwich and his apple and goes to dump his tray in the cleaning bin. He’s brushing his hands free of crumbs when someone calls, “Berenson!”
Jake turns to see an agent he slightly knows jogging up. “Hey, Schmit.”
Schmit stops a foot in front of him and says, “There’s a visitor for you, sir.”
“I thought you didn’t allow visitors,” Jake says. That had certainly been the case for his parents, at least, even when they had complained that their son was seventeen damn years old and should be able to see his parents.
Schmit hesitates. “We made an exception for these ones, sir.”
Jake still doesn’t know how he likes being called sir. It feels like it used to when Ax called him Prince Jake, before he had gotten used to it.
“Well, who is it?”
“It’s your cousin, sir. Rachel Berenson. She’s here with Marco-”
“Where are they?” Jake feels guilty for cutting him off, but it’s a distant guilt, a vague thing floating around the sudden buzz of they’re here they’re here they’re here.
“Visitor’s lounge, sir.”
“Great,” Jake says, starting to walk. He makes it a few steps before turning around. “Where’s that?”
“I’ll take you, sir.”
Jake nods, and lets Schmit fall into step with him. He doesn’t know Schmit very well, but he seems nice enough, so: “Could you stop calling me sir?”
Schmit startles. Then he covers it up, falling back into parade rest- army, Jake thinks. He acts like his grandfather used to sometimes, before the dementia set in. “You fought a war, sir. You won the war. To me, that entitles you more respect than I’d usually give a 17 year old kid.”
That sounds fair. Jake walks in silence for another few turns. They haven’t really let him roam much around the facility, so all of this is pretty new to him. “Do you think I did the right thing?”
“Not always,” Schmit replies instantly. “But I think you did what you had to.”
Jake decides he likes Schmit, even if he’s still figuring out if he thinks he did the right thing. Sure, he’s told himself enough times that he did what he had to do, but sometimes it feels weak, like he’s trying to convince himself.
The visitor’s lounge is small, dotted with tables and chairs and a lone vending machine that two people stand around.
“C’mon,” the guy says. He has shoulder-length hair and a voice that sounds deeper than it did the last time Jake talked to him on the phone, weeks ago, a call right before they took him to the facility for the trial.
Beside him, the girl sighs. She tosses her long, blonde hair over her shoulder.
They both turn around when Schmit clears his throat.
Marco breaks out into a grin, and Jake blinks at him in surprise. “You look- different?”
“Good different? Handsome, I hope you mean. Devastatingly handsome, ruggedly, even-”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jake says, but he’s smiling, too. He accepts Marco’s hug when he swings out his arms, and then steps back, Marco’s hand still on his shoulder.
Rachel looks different, too, but in a way Jake doesn’t think he should mention. Her eyes are sunken, her skin tight around her face, like she’s lost too much weight in too little time.
“Hey, cuz,” she says.
“Hey,” he says, and hugs her hesitantly with one arm. She feels awfully skinny in his arms- she’s lost muscle, even. Near the end of the war, she had been pretty ripped.
For a moment he thinks he’s made the wrong choice- she flinches in his arms and he starts to pull back, but then she’s wrapping one arm around him and squeezing once, hard and fast.
“Yeah, might want to ease back on the touchy-touchy,” Marco whispers in Jake’s ear.
Rachel tucks hair away from her eyes as she pulls back. “I heard that, Marco.”
“Oops,” Marco says, sounding entirely unapologetic. “So, Jakey. Aren’t you gonna ask why we’re here?”
“Not to bust me out, I’m guessing.”
“Nah,” Marco waves a hand. “You’re getting out in a day or two, there wouldn’t be a point to it.”
“I’m what? Who told you that?”
“The dude I convinced to let you out in a day or two,” Marco says, examining his nails. They’ve been cut into ovals and shined. It makes his hands look impeccably neat.
Jake stares. “Marco. What did you do?”
“Don’t worry,” Marco says. He puts an arm around Jake’s shoulder. “I used my newfound influence as a rising star to pull some strings. Convinced some high-up dude you didn’t need to be kept under surveillance. It’s not like you’re gonna commit any more war crimes if they let you out, right? Not that you committed any,” Marco adds.
“Technically,” Jake starts, but Marco talks over him.
“So! How do you feel about a road-trip, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal, ol’ friend?”
“A road-”
Rachel cuts in. “Does he have to be here?”
Jake turns to see her pointing at Schmit, who’s standing at attention near the door.
“Yes,” Jake says.
Rachel makes a face.
“None of us can drive,” Jake says.
Marco digs in his pocket and comes up with a pair of car keys dangling off his fingertips. “Ta-da! Got my licence three days ago.”
“He drove us here,” Rachel says. “He’s okay.”
“I am a stunning driver.”
“I’ve been in a car you were driving,” Jake says. “It was terrifying.”
“Pshhh-”
“You knocked over a whole neighbourhood’s trash cans.”
Marco flings his hands out. “I was fourteen! I’m good at driving now, my mom taught me these past few months. I got a licence from an actual professional driving instructor person.”
“Really? You didn’t use your influence as a rising star to coerce him?”
Marco mock-gasps. “How dare you, Jake. I would never.”
“Uh-huh,” Jake says. He’s grinning. Shit, when was the last time he grinned? His lips feel like they should be creaking with disuse. He’s missed Marco. “What brought this on?”
“What, the road-trip?” Marco shrugs. “Didn’t we plan to have one when one of us got our licence?”
“Yeah, but that was before.”
None of them need to clarify what before meant. They’ve all sliced their life into sections- before the war, during it-
“And now it’s after,” Marco says. The keys jingle when he shakes them. “Come oooon. Two weeks at most. Just us and the open road. No army guys hanging over your head. Chillin’ with your crew.”
“You’re sure this is a good idea?” Jake looks towards Rachel. “There are things- I mean, most of us haven’t talked in a while.”
Marco hums. His jaw starts moving and Jake realizes he has gum in his mouth.
“We’ll be fine. We’ve survived way too much to kill each other during a road trip, right?”
“That’s not comforting, Marco.”
“I’m a very comforting guy, excuse you,” Marco says mildly. He blows a gum bubble and they all watch as it expands.
Rachel pops it with a fingernail and Marco yelps, shooting her a look before he starts sucking it back into his mouth.
“It’ll be fun,” Marco says once most of it is back. “When was the last time you had fun, Jakey-boy?”
Jake considers. It had been back before they went into hiding, and probably a few months before that happened. At school, maybe- odd enough as it sounds, it had been relaxing to pretend he was just a student whose biggest worries were homework and shitty teachers.
Marco leans forwards. “Tell you what. You can’t leave for a few days even if you wanted to, so we’ll swing back to see if you’re coming after we’ve checked in with everyone else.”
“Okay,” Jake says.
Marco nods, clutches Jake’s shoulder and then starts to leave, Rachel in front of him. Then he stops, twists his head so he can look at Jake. “We’re seeing Cassie next, by the way. She’s staying with her parents in their new house.”
Something well-worn and very warm stirs in Jake’s chest. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Marco says. “Anything you want me to pass along?”
Jake thinks back to the last time he and Cassie saw each other. It had been after they dragged Rachel and Tom out, Tom confirmed dead and Rachel confirmed as stable. Cassie had been sitting with her head in her hands, breathing shakily.
Jake had sat next to her. Neither of them had said anything. A few months before this, Jake would’ve reached for her hand, maybe- but there was too much dead history between them at that point.
Eventually, Cassie’s breathing had evened out.
Jake had asked, are you going to go see Rachel?
I already did, Cassie said. She was unconscious, but- she should be fine. They say she should be fine.
Her hands were trembling. Jake’s fingers itched with the old want to touch them, but he was just so tired. He couldn’t handle her reaction, whichever way it turned out. He wanted to climb in bed and sleep for the rest of his life no one would have him make any more decisions.
They had sat there for a while, breathing next to each other and not talking. After about half an hour, Cassie had said I’m sorry and gotten up. She walked off, and Jake hadn’t watched her.
Now, he wonders what she was sorry about. About leaving? About their relationship, dead before it could be called alive? About a hundred other things they probably needed to be sorry to each other about?
Jake swallows. “Tell her I said I hope she’s doing okay.”
Marco’s mouth twitches, but Jake thinks it looks more sad than anything. “You got it, our fearless leader.”
-
“Cassie, I’m coming in.”
The door opens and Cassie turns to face her father.
He jerks, and then sighs. “Cassie. That better be you, otherwise there’s a skunk in the house and I really don’t want to deal with that right now.”
<It’s me, dad.>
He sighs. “Never thought I’d be hearing my only daughter communicate through telepathy while in the body of a skunk. Life, huh? Why are you a skunk, anyway? Did something need to get sprayed?”
<No, I just wanted to be a skunk for a while. Hold on, I’m morphing out.>
Her dad leans on the door and waits until she’s human again, sitting on her bed in her skintight black leotard. It’s been pinching at her lately, she definitely needs to buy a new one. Also a sports bra- she can’t get away with what she could’ve at 14, bra-wise.
“Hi,” she says when her mouth is flat again. “Did you need me for something?”
He gives her a searching look.
“What?”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time in morph, Cass.”
She crosses her legs underneath her- her legs are stubbly, and she runs her hands over them. “I suppose so.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Not right now.” Cassie smiles, trying to look supportive. It helps, talking with her parents, but they tire her out sometimes. There are things she’d prefer not to talk about.
“Okay,” he says. He comes to sit next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders.
She leans into him, lets her head rest against his shoulder. “I’m fine, dad. Really. Just- finding it a little hard in my own head, lately.”
“We’ve noticed,” he says. “We talked it over- it’s okay, as long as you don’t take it overboard.”
“I’m not,” she says. She isn’t- she used to spend a few hours in morph every day, or every couple of days, even when they weren’t on a mission. It calmed her down, and she definitely needs calming down nowadays.
She says, “I’ve been thinking about going back to high school.”
“Yeah?” Her dad’s bushy eyebrows shoot up. “That sounds like a good idea. You sure? You might get treated differently, given all that’s happened.”
“I’ll get treated differently no matter what I do, dad.”
“You could get your GED without physically going back, if you want. There are ways.”
“I’m considering all the options,” Cassie says. She feels her dad’s shoulder lift and fall as he sighs.
“I know, sweetheart.” Her dad shifts and Cassie has to rearrange her head. “Been spending much time with Lili, lately?”
“Yeah,” Cassie says. “We went shopping a few days ago?”
“Yeah? Good. It’s good to get out of the house.”
“I get out of the house.”
“Good to get out of the house in human form,” her dad amends. His gaze softens. “Have you heard from any of the others?”
That’s how her parents refer to them now: the others.
“No,” Cassie says. “I called Rachel’s hotel a couple weeks back, but no-one answered. Tobias is- god knows where he is, and it’s the same with Ax. I think they’re sticking together, though. In the same woods, anyway. Jake- well, I expect he’s still busy with the aftermath of the trial, they haven’t let him out yet. But Marco and I have talked on the phone a few times this month.”
“Really?” He sounds surprised, and Cassie doesn’t blame him. She and Marco were never that close, even with the war on.
Or, well- they were all close. They were a family, stitched together out of necessity: they pulled each other out of the fire and stood together during their most painful and intimate moments. They were all close, thanks to the war, but Cassie and Marco never went out of their way to spend time together.
Cassie nods. “I think he’s taking the war ending better than the others.”
“And you,” her dad says, frowning slightly.
“And me,” Cassie agrees. She pats his hand. “I’m okay, dad.”
“It’s okay not to be okay, you know that, right?”
“Yes, dad, you told me,” Cassie says, and bites her lip. “I’m- not okay? But I’m getting there. I can see it from here. I’m going to be okay.”
Her dad smiles down at her, the worried crease between his brows still not fading.
A yell rings out from her mother downstairs. “Cassie! You have a visitor!”
Cassie raises her head, puts her feet on the floor. “Who is it,” she calls.
“Come and see!”
It’s her turn to frown. She’s been told she looks just like her dad when she does it.
She climbs down the stairs, her dad on her heels. She turns into the lounge at the bottom of the stairs and stops, staring.
She sees Marco first. Her first thought is an appreciative whistle- she’s always thought Marco was pretty, but he’s downright gorgeous now, or at least far down the road into getting gorgeous. He’s primped and polished, all easy edges, but even without it he’d be attractive with his new, broad shoulders and- did he get taller? She remembers him coming up to Rachel’s chin, not her nose.
“Hey, Cassie,” he says, and it hadn’t been a mistake she heard down the phone: his voice is deeper.
“Hi,” she says, and is opening her mouth to ask what he’s doing here when she spots Rachel.
Rachel. Cassie has to stop herself from flinging herself into her arms- for one, she’s sure Rachel would deck her. She thinks Rachel is still cut up about Cassie not trusting her, and judging by the tightness in her face, that thought is solidifying into a belief.
She’s beanpole-thin, her t-shirt is shapeless and baggy around her. She’s wearing jeans Cassie thinks she wouldn’t have been caught dead in a year ago, and she’s in jandals.
Still- she pulls it off, making it look like Effortless Chic. Or maybe Dirty Chiche. Classic Rachel.
Rachel doesn’t say anything, but her face flickers when Cassie takes an unconscious step closer. It’s not a good flicker.
Cassie forces herself to stop. Instead, she says, “Hi, guys. What are you doing here?”
“We were in the neighbourhood,” Marco says. Then he sucks air through his teeth and says, “Actually, we weren’t, but we made it so we were in the neighbourhood. How do you feel about a road trip?”
Cassie reels. “A road- are you serious?”
“Deadly,” Marco says, and flashes his teeth at her. “The old gang back together again! What do you say?”
“What do the others say about this?”
“Rachel’s game is everyone else is,” Marco says, hooking his thumb over his shoulder to point at her. “And Jake’s thinking it over. We haven’t caught up with Ax or Tobias yet, but we’re headed there. Oh, and Jake sends his eternal love.”
He hisses when Rachel digs an elbow viciously into his ribs. “Ow, shit!”
“He says he hopes you’re doing okay,” Rachel tells her. Her face is heavily guarded.
“Oh,” Cassie says. “Okay.”
Marco scowls, rubbing his side. He opens his mouth, but Rachel talks over him:
“Are you coming?”
They both look over at her, along with her parents.
Cassie stares at her. She had thought she was going to watch Rachel die, the day the war ended. She thought she was going to have to content herself with the fact that Rachel’s last words- I love you- were directed at Tobias and not at any of the rest of them.
But here she is, Rachel in all her gaunt glory, arms folded and expression like she’s facing off an enemy and not her best friend. The girl who used to be her best friend, Cassie amends.
Rachel looks at her expectantly. Why is she even asking Cassie?
“Do you want me to come,” Cassie asks.
Rachel looks stricken, but only for a moment. Her jaw sets. “Of course.”
“Then I’ll come.”
Rachel nods. Beside her, Marco whoops.
“Great! Two to go. Cassie, you want to come with us to see if Tobias and Ax are in? I heard they’re hanging in the same forest.”
Cassie looks at her parents. “Is- am I even allowed?”
They’re standing together, her dad’s arm around her mom’s waist. They both look uncertain, but her mom says, “I… think it’d be good to spend some time with your friends. To go away for a little bit. Clear your head. Dear?”
Her dad nods. “Yes. Yes, that would be- it’d be good. You have fun, Cassie.”
Cassie turns back to Marco. “Uh. I guess. I have to pack first, though.”
Marco claps. “Cool, we’ll help. C’mon, Rach. Your room’s up there, right?”
Rachel looks irritated when he takes her elbow and leads her to the stairs, but she doesn’t shake him off.
Cassie follows them up, keeping a few steps behind so she doesn’t bump into Rachel by mistake.
-
It’s been a good day- Tobias has hardly had to flap, what with all these thermals under his wings. His belly is full of fresh mouse, and the wind is rifling through his feathers as he flies.
He’s not flying for any particular reason, today. Sometimes he just does it to get out of his head, to feel the sun on his back.
He scans his forest as he flies- it’s becoming more familiar to him the more weeks he spends here. He already knows the layout of the trees and where the river runs, he knows all the best eating spots and where the animals make their burrows.
There’s a wild mouse scurrying through the undergrowth below him. The hawk part of him sits up to take interest, but Tobias flies on. He won’t need to eat for a while, what with the size of the badger he ate this morning, plus the mouse he had for lunch.
Off in the distance, a van starts driving towards the woods. Tobias eyes it- sometimes they get people coming out for hikes, or teenagers come to make out under the canopies. Once, a few of them even stumbled in on Ax as he was out crushing grass under his hoofs for dinner.
Luckily, the teenagers had been high at the time, so hopefully they had chalked it down to that and not told anyone. Even with the human race finding out about aliens, Ax had wished for solitude, and that didn’t come easily when humans were always coming around his part of the woods to take pictures.
Even if the teenagers had told people, no-one’s shown up about Ax yet.
Until now.
Tobias circles back around to get a closer look at the van. It’s classic paedophile style, white with blacked out windows.
He flies in lazy circles as the van pulls over at the side of the road and passengers start getting out.
At first, Tobias shoves it away as wishful thinking. But then he flies closer to concentrate and yes, there’s the cornflower hair, the sharp lines of her face, the bright blue eyes he thought he might never see again-
It stops Tobias in his tracks and he nearly starts falling when a thermal fails to catch him. He flaps, catches sight of Marco and Cassie as they get out of the van with her.
What the fresh hell are you guys doing here, Tobias thinks. He loses sight of them through the trees and flies over them. There’s a clearing, and he hangs back. To them, he should be only a spot in the sky.
“Tobias!”
It’s faint, but it’s there. Marco’s yelling, his hands cupped around his mouth and his head tipped up towards them.
“That you, buddy?”
Tobias flies higher.
“Come on, we just want to talk.”
Tobias considers. He hasn’t talked to anyone other than Ax in months, if he doesn’t count their trips into the nearest town, where talking ends up being inevitable when he has to apologize for Ax’s behaviour.
He flies down, landing in a tree above their heads.
Marco’s grinning. “Man, I’ve missed your smiling face.”
<I haven’t missed your bad jokes,> Tobias replies, but fondness seeps into it.
“You wound me, you know that,” Marco says.
Tobias says, <Hi, Cassie. Rachel.>
“Hi,” Cassie says.
Rachel says nothing. Tobias pretends it doesn’t sting. What else should he expect? He had tried to talk with her, after she woke up from killing Tom. But she had pushed him away, pushed all of them away and left the hospital before she was allowed.
<What are you guys doing here? Did something happen?>
“It did,” Marco says. “I got my licence.”
<Your driver’s licence?>
“No, my forklift licence. Yes, my driver’s licence!”
Is this what they came all the way out here for? <Uh, congratulations?>
“Thank you!” Marco bows, a short dip of a thing. “How do you feel about road trips?”
<They’re smelly.>
“Well, that’s what you get when you cram six teenagers into a car together. It starts to stink.”
It clicks. <You want us to go on a road trip?>
“Yep!”
<Why?>
“Why not?” Marco pockets his hands. He looks very different, Tobias notices. He almost looks like a grown up.
<It wouldn’t end well.>
“And who’s saying that?”
<I am. Rachel is.>
“I didn’t say anything,” Rachel protests.
God, but Tobias has missed the sound of her voice. Sometimes, when he’s flying, her I love you will creep into his head and set up roots.
He looks at her. <No, but your posture is. So’s your face.>
“Excuse me for having an expression,” she snaps.
Cassie says, “Rachel,” like it’s the old days, like she’s the Rachel-tamer and she can just put a hand on her shoulder and Rachel will draw back under her touch.
But it’s not the old days, it’s now, and Rachel jerks violently under Cassie’s hand.
Cassie lets go of her shoulder like she got burned by it.
“I’m going if everyone else is,” Rachel says, still snappish, but there’s an undertone that trembles. Her chin juts out. “Is that alright with you, bird-boy?”
What happened to us, Tobias thinks. What the hell happened to the Rachel who stared at the screen that had all of her friends in it and told Tobias she loved him with what she thought was her dying breath? What happened to the Rachel-and-Cassie who laughed and held hands and supported each other through everything? What happened to any of them, sticking through the tough parts only to abandon each other when things were supposed to get easy again?
<But you don’t want me to come.>
“Of course I fucking want you to come.”
<Then why are you being like this?>
Rachel snarls. It’s almost like having the old her back. “I don’t know, okay? It’s been a shitty couple of months.”
Marco clears his throat. He seems impatient. “If you two are done with your lover’s tiff?”
They all glare at him.
Marco squirms. “Uh, so! Tobias?”
Tobias shifts on his branch. <I’m game if Ax is.>
“Awesome,” Marco says, eyes flitting around the trees. “So hey, where is Ax-man?”
The skittishness suddenly makes sense. If Tobias had lips, he’d be smiling. <In the east of the forest. Follow me.>
-
Ax supresses a sigh as he grinds his hoof down on a tuft of grass. It’s not that he doesn’t like grass, he does- it’s just that he doesn’t like eating it for every single meal.
It might be due time for him to morph human. He does so about once a week, to walk down to the nearest town and try out any food that looks interesting. Tobias often joins him, but not always. Ax doesn’t mind- though he enjoys the company, it is also a new experience to walk around on his own and do as he pleases. Though, this often ends up with him explaining that he is sorry he does not understand human customs, since he is an alien.
This usually ends with him morphing back to prove it, and the human bothering him will most likely scream and run away or try to hit him.
So Tobias’ assistance is often helpful.
He makes a mental note to journey deeper into the forest to find Tobias and ask him if he wishes to go into town tomorrow.
After he finishes eating, he goes to his phone and picks it up. The keypad is difficult, as it is not made for a creature with as many fingers as Ax, and Ax has not got around to configuring it yet.
He morphs to human- easier to operate, fingers-wise, and he needs a mouth to talk into the receiver.
He dials in Marco’s number. But just like several other days before, it goes to voicemail.
“I am beginning to get worried,” Ax admits after the beep. “I have been checking the television to see if you are in trouble. Nothing has come up yet, but I have been told that the news often lies. Please call me back when you get this. Goodbye.”
As the phone clicks back into its receiver, he hears a rustle of wings. “Hello, Tobias. Ssss.”
<Hey, Ax. I brought visitors.>
Ax turns. He feels his eyebrows raise as Marco comes into his scoop, grinning. He looks very different- his hair is shorter, he's wider in his shoulders. Ax finds he wants to keep looking at him for a very long time.
What is that phrase humans use?
“Speak of the demon!”
“Devil,” Marco says. “What, you were thinking about me?”
“I just finished leaving you a message,” Ax says. “It seems that was pointless. Hello.”
“Hi,” Marco says, and hugs him.
Ax hugs him back. He’s been told he’s good at hugs, which he’s unusually proud of. Secretly, he thinks Marco’s hugs are better than anyone’s, including his. Though he’s beginning to think that he might be biased when it comes to Marco.
Marco slaps him on the back as he pulls away. It’s a thing humans do, and Ax sees it routinely on the TV. He slaps Marco back, perhaps too hard.
“Oof,” Marco says. His hand lingers on Ax’s back, then his shoulder. “How you been doing, man?”
“I have been good.” Ax is grinning along with Marco, something he has found he cannot help, sometimes. “You did not mention you were coming to visit.”
“Thought I’d make it a surprise,” Marco says. “And, uh, it was kind of an impulse decision.”
“Well, I am pleased by it,” Ax says.
Marco beams.
Strangely, Ax’s stomach twists. It has done so before when he ate too much and became nauseas, but he is slightly hungry at the moment.
“You okay, man?”
“My stomach made a worrying movement,” Ax tells him. "Ent."
Marco’s face scrunches. Ax has never understood the human term dubbed ‘cute,’ but he finds some of Marco’s facial expression even more appealing than others.
A voice says, “Hello, Ax,” and he looks up to see Cassie entering his scoop.
Ax straightens. “Hello, Cassie. You came here with Marco.”
“And Rachel,” Cassie says, looking back over her shoulder just in time for Rachel to emerge, picking leaves out of her hair.
“Hello, Rachel,” Ax greets, wondering if she is sickly.
“Hey,” Rachel says. “Marco, you wanna not ditch us next time to go see your boyfriend?”
“Haaaaa ha ha,” Marco says, too loud and too pitched to be real laughter. “You’re so funny, Rach. So funny.”
Rachel looks at him oddly, as does Cassie. Ax cannot decipher most of Tobias’ expression when he is in hawk form, but he thinks he is also watching Marco.
“So,” Marco says. His hands are in his pockets and he is shifting about the way he does when he gets excited. “You know what a road trip is?”
“They are a prominent feature in many feel-good movies,” Ax says. “Why?”
“How do you feel about going on one?”
Ax blinks. It often feels strange doing it with only two eyes. Every time he morphs into human form, he has to adjust to it all over again. “With you? Oo?”
“With all of us. The Animorphs.”
Ax looks around at them. “Everyone has agreed to this?”
“Pretty much everyone, yeah. Jake is still on the fence, but I’m 90% sure he’ll say yes when we get back to him. If you’re busy, I get it. You have that long-distance duty thing going on.”
“I can do that from wherever I wish,” Ax says. “I can do my job sufficiently on a road trip, if there are pay-phones in opportune places.”
“So you’re in?”
“Yes. I am in.”
“Yeah,” Marco says through his teeth, pumping his fist into the air. “I definitely didn’t think this would work. Fuck. Okay, lets’ go pick up Jake and get this party started! To the van, my people!”
As Ax pauses to gather his necessary things, he notices that other than Marco, no-one else looks particularly enthused.
-
Marco is pumped.
He is amped up. He is ready.
“I am ready,” he announces to the rest of the van.
He mostly gets a series of grunts, along with a low chirp from Tobias.
Ax, though- because Ax is awesome- asks, <For the road trip?>
“For the road trip,” Marco confirms. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. He considers turning the radio on so he can actually have something to drum along to, but he doesn’t think Rachel would appreciate it and he’s counting down to when she’ll finally deck one of them.
He’s hoping it won’t be him. He knows she’s thought about it before, so she’d have years’ worth of fantasies behind her fist.
Ax asks, <We are on the road, and we are on a trip to get Prince Jake. Does this not mean we are already on the road trip?>
Marco grins. Ax says ‘road trip’ like the letters at the start of the words are capitalized. It’s adorable. “Isn’t official ‘til we have everyone on board, Ax-man.”
<Ah,> Ax says.
Marco glances at him in the rear-view mirror. Since Andalities don’t fit into carseats, he’s splayed out across the back three seats. “You doing okay, Ax?”
<I am comfortable. Thank you.>
“Cool, let me know if that changes.” Marco continues to drum on the steering wheel until Rachel snaps at him to cut it the hell out.
He does, and he makes a smart remark back at her, but his worry is ratcheting up higher the closer they get to Jake. He still isn’t sure if this is a great idea or so colossally bad they’ll end up all killing each other.
Marco wants them to go back to how they were, is the thing. Or, no: they’re all irreparably changed and he knows it. He’s fully aware just how fucked up they’ve all gotten, how twisted their relationships with each other had become during the final months of the war.
There’s no going back after that.
But maybe they can get past this. They can get through it and change again, shift into something else entirely. Sure, it won’t be easy, but it’s got to be easy than winning the war, right?
In the seat behind him, Rachel starts idly kicking the back of his seat. Her hands twitch in her lap.
Cassie watches, eyes big and sad like she wants to comfort her but has no idea how the hell to start.
Tobias is in the backseat with Ax, perched on his shoulder. Even in human morph, Tobias rarely has facial expressions anymore, but if he did, and if he were human, Marco would bet his second-hand van that he’d be making mournful puppy eyes in Rachel’s direction.
All Marco can see is the piercing hawk glare, but still. He’d bet his entire van.
Or, maybe not puppy eyes. They’ve moved past puppy eyes. He’s not sure anyone who’s been through the crap Tobias has been through would even be capable of puppy eyes. Tearful eyes, maybe. Eyes that swim with the ghosts of a hundred possible futures that are now never to come to pass.
Yeah, that one sounds about right.
At least Ax seems to want to be here, although he’s been picking up on the tension the further they drive. It’d be hard not to, Marco supposes.
The sun stings in Marco’s eyes. He flips the sun visor down.
This is a good idea, he tells himself. No-one’s going to kill each other. I’m pretty sure no killing will happen on this road trip. Almost 70% sure.
With that comforting thought, Marco pulls onto the highway that will take them to Jake, and in turn will start off the Animorphs’ first and probably only road trip.