Chapter Text
After school, Jake wanted a word, and I’d almost bolted right then and there. But I nodded, steeled myself, and met his eyes. I had responsibilities I couldn’t run away from, even now.
“Cassie. You okay? You’ve been distracted lately.”
For a moment, I wondered if he knew. But then I brushed the thought away. There were always mundane explanations for things, and Jake was always willing to believe those over my actual secret. This time, at least, the explanation was true.
I shook my head. “I haven’t been sleeping. Ever since the last fight, I…”
I couldn’t get the images out of my head. The poor Hork-Bajir whose throat I’d ground to a pulp, and the look in its Yeerk’s eyes as he died. We’d killed both of them without a second thought.
“I don’t know. I’ve just had a lot on my mind, I guess.”
That would’ve been a funny joke under normal circumstances—but at the moment, neither of us were in the mood for laughter. And Jake was watching too intently for me to even consider a chuckle.
“You said you wanted to take a break?” he asked.
Technically, I hadn’t said anything, but I nodded anyway.
“How long?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? It was the one I’d been asking for almost a full day now without getting any answers.
<Please?> I asked. <Talk to me?>
But there was no response; just a shivering mass of guilt and pain, swirling around me like an angry storm. It was worse now than it had ever been before, and I had no idea how to even begin unraveling it.
“I’m still thinking about it,” I told him. “But don’t be surprised if I end up telling you that I’m done.”
He frowned. “What do you mean by ‘done’?”
“I mean done. Quitting the Animorphs.”
Jake narrowed his eyes. “Cassie—”
I raised my hands. “I don’t know for sure yet. I’m just saying it’s a possibility. I need time to think about it.”
He sighed. “How much time? When will you have an answer? I need to know.”
I rubbed my eyes. “Give me a few days, at least?”
He stared, thinking about it.
“Please?” I added.
Jake held his gaze for a moment, and then looked away. “Fine.”
I wanted to say something to him then, but I couldn’t come up with the words. So I left before I had to look at him again.
Seeing his disappointment, imagining the rest of the Animorphs having to deal with the war without me—I felt bad about it, sure. But my loyalty was to Cassie first and foremost, and she was in more pain than I’d ever seen before. She’d been unresponsive, curling away into the corner of our mind for the last twenty-four hours. If I’d left her in control, we never would’ve even gotten out of bed.
So I had to care for her, even though I was hurting too. None of the others would understand why we were feeling this way, and none of the others could ever know.
We’d killed my brother, after all.
On our way home, I prodded at Cassie again.
<Come on,> I said. <We’re supposed to be a team, remember?>
The only response I got was a vague feeling, too large for words. But I understood the meaning just fine.
I’m sorry, she was saying.
<It’s not your fault,> I told her. <He wouldn’t listen. You tried—I know you did. If anything, it’s my fault. If I’d just talked to him more, maybe I could’ve convinced him that the Empire is wrong. Then he’d still be alive.>
But she only shrank away.
I sighed. The walk home was a stressful one even at the best of times. Cassie and I had taken to morphing osprey most days to make the trip a little easier, seeing the world from high up, feeling the wind under our wings. It was nice, losing ourselves in the morph for a while.
But then we’d come home, and reality would set in quickly.
I took an extra long route today, snaking through the park, feeling the breeze on our face, listening to the birds and crickets chirping away. The sun was setting by the time I arrived home, the barn casting a long shadow across the grass. The lights in the house were already on.
Cassie’s heart was beating with trepidation, and I took a few deep breaths to help steady her.
<It’s going to be alright,> I told her, though I didn’t really believe it myself.
I walked up to the door, began to put the key in, when suddenly it opened on its own. There, standing in the doorway, was Cassie’s mother, with a stern look on her face.
“Aftran,” said the Yeerk controlling her. “It’s late. Where have you been?”
“Maintaining my cover,” I said. The lies came easily. “My host’s friends were worried about her after they heard what happened at the Sharing meeting. They wanted to make sure she was okay.”
Odret’s frown only tightened. “Do we have anything to worry about?”
I shook my head. “No. They don’t suspect anything.”
Slowly, Odret nodded, and stepped aside to let me in. Her expression barely changed as I passed. She never smiled, except when we were in public and she had to put on appearances. I knew from Cassie’s memories that her mother was usually a friendly, warm-hearted person. Seeing Odret in her place sickened me, even if I’d never met her host without her.
I dropped Cassie’s keys into the basket by the door. Dinner was already cooking, and the room smelled vaguely like onion and garlic and salt. I drank it all in, enjoying every last mote of that scent that I could before Odret followed us into the kitchen.
“Derane’s at the Pool?” I asked her.
She nodded. “He won’t be joining us for dinner tonight.”
Derane-Six-Three-One was an exceptionally cruel Yeerk, intentionally setting his feeding times apart from mine or Odret’s so that Cassie’s father would never get a moment alone with either of his family members. The few times I’d scheduled mine to coincide with his without his knowing, he’d been incensed to the point where he’d almost gotten violent with us.
Cassie shifted a bit in our mind at that thought.
<Cassie?> I asked hopefully.
But she didn’t answer.
“I heard your pool-brother was caught in the attack yesterday,” Odret said, checking on the pot she’d left on the stove.
A pang ran through me. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. I still remembered how it felt, watching him die in our arms. Cassie had begged him to leave, screamed at him in thought-speech, but he’d just snarled and called me a traitor.
Those were his last words to me.
An Empire loyalist, to the end.
<I’m sorry,> Cassie whispered again.
<It’s not your fault,> I reminded her, but she was already gone.
“He died a hero,” she said. “Fighting the Andalites to protect his people.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” I said, clenching Cassie’s fists.
“Fine,” Odret said, scooping some stew out into two bowls.
We ate dinner in silence. Odret’s cooking was as good as Cassie’s mom’s cooking had ever been, but something about it still tasted wrong. I ate a dozen bites and excused myself early, retreating to Cassie’s room before Odret had the chance to ask any more questions about where I’d been.
Oddly enough, Cassie’s room was something of a safe haven for us. Maybe it was some lingering instinct from her host, but Odret never liked to enter our room without asking first, and she seldom asked. In the two years I’d been with Cassie, she’d only asked three or four times.
I laid down on our bed, head pressed against our pillow, watching the ceiling fan hypnotically spin round and round. It was something I liked to do to calm down. Cassie never quite understood it, but she’d always happily let me do it anyway.
<Cassie?> I asked. <You know I don’t blame you, right?>
<…Yeah,> she said back eventually, her voice tiny.
<So what’s the problem? We’ve killed Yeerks before.>
For a while, she didn’t respond, and I thought maybe she’d retreated back into her little corner again. But then she spoke.
<Shouldn’t it matter?> she asked. <Shouldn’t it matter that he was your brother?>
Of course it did, I thought. But I couldn’t tell her that.
<That’s my problem to deal with,> I said. <Not yours. Don’t worry about me.>
<How can I not?> She almost laughed, but there was no amusement in it, no mirth. <You’re in my head, Aftran. I can feel how hurt you are.>
<He wasn’t a good person,> I told her. <He tortured his hosts. He hurt them. He didn’t see them as people.>
On and on I went, telling her in various ways how my brother was a monster, and how he’d deserved to die. And then Cassie interrupted me.
<Like you,> she said, and I froze. <Like how you were before you met me.>
It stung, hearing that from her. I burned with shame.
But when I looked closer, I could see there was no judgment in her words. She’d long ago forgiven me for who I used to be; she was only lamenting that my brother had never gotten the chance to follow the same path. She was still the same caring, compassionate Cassie as always.
And she was spiraling now, sinking down into her pain and guilt. I held onto her as best I could, shutting her eyes, breathing slow.
<Do you want to keep doing this?> I asked her. <The Animorphs stuff?>
<I don’t know. I…>
All she could think about was the crunch of flesh under our teeth, the slick warmth of blood on our jaw.
<Maybe once we get some sleep, you’ll have a better idea,> I said.
<Maybe,> she said wearily. <What about you? Do you want to keep doing it?>
<It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll still be helping out through the Peace Movement either way. This is your decision—>
A knock on our window interrupted us. I sat up, glancing over, and saw an owl sitting by the sill.
<Hey,> Rachel said.
Cassie flinched—or she would’ve, if I hadn’t been holding her still. She didn’t want to be having this conversation right now. I sighed. I didn’t like pretending to be her to her friends, but she was too out of it to properly have this talk.
I walked over to the window and gave Rachel a look. “Not here,” I said.
We went out to the barn, after I gave a weak excuse to Odret about taking care of the animals to maintain our cover. Rachel landed on top of one of the empty cages, and I gave the door a cursory glance to make sure nobody was listening in.
“What do you want, Rachel?” I asked the owl.
<Jake told me that you’re thinking about quitting.>
I bit our lip, but didn’t say anything.
<Are you seriously going to do it?>
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “I really don’t know. All I know is that I’m…” I searched for the word. “Tired.”
Rachel tilted her head. If an owl could look dumbfounded, she’d managed it. <You’d give up the fight because of that?>
I shrugged. “Like I said, I’m not sure. I’m still thinking about it.”
<Why? What brought this on?>
I didn’t know what to say. Cassie had never told me, and I respected her too much to go looking without her consent. I wracked our brain, struggling trying to make something up, and then—Cassie gave me a nudge. I stepped aside with relief, glad that she was finally feeling up to talking.
“It’s not any one thing,” Cassie said, a note of fatigue in her voice. “It’s something that’s been building up for a long time.”
<What do you mean? What has?>
“I… I’ve been losing myself,” she said. “Every time, it gets easier and easier to hurt people, and last night—”
She cut herself off. Last night, she’d killed my brother, and it hadn’t felt any different than killing anyone else. She hated how she was changing, how violence was becoming second nature. She hated that killing was becoming her go-to strategy. She was worried that she was starting to enjoy it.
Like Rachel did. It was something Cassie thought about a lot.
She didn’t say any of these things out loud. A bout of panic seized her, and she released control of her body. I took over before she could stumble. It was a bad habit of hers, letting go of control whenever she didn’t want to deal with a conversation, and it was something I usually admonished her for—but not today. Today, I took over without complaint.
<That’s it? You’re going to let the Yeerks win because you feel bad about killing them?>
“Of course I don’t want the Yeerks to win,” I said, and it was the truth. “I just… I’m having a hard time dealing with this. I just need some time. To think.”
Rachel stared at me, her owl’s eyes boring into me like razor-sharp needles. <Think quickly,> she said. <We have a mission coming up soon.>
Then she took off, and we were left alone.