Chapter Text
“Pffft… college girls?” Marco was using his best fake-outrage voice. “Who needs college girls when you’ve got Hollywood? I’m talking about the land of Baywatch, Playboy, Maxim Hot 100.”
“I prefer brains and beauty. They have standards, not like your Hot 100, who’ve probably hooked up with every creepy producer in the county.”
It was sort of strange, watching Marco and Tom argue. It reminded me of the days before the Yeerks, back when Tom was just a normal teenager making fun of his little brother’s annoying friend.
“Fine, I concede the creepy producer thing. But it’s not like your college girls haven’t done a few laps around the frat house. At least mine are on TV.”
Tom laughed at him, “Yeah right, if they go anywhere near your underage butt, the only TV show they’ll be on is COPS.”
“Why don’t we find a more wholesome topic of conversation.” My dad tried to hide his amusement as he looked up from a pamphlet. “Did you know that NYU has one of the largest academic libraries in the country? We’ll have to make sure we see that on the tour tomorrow.”
I don’t know if Tom was actually interested in what Dad said or just tired of teasing Marco, but he picked up a brightly-colored pamphlet of his own. My family had come to New York so Tom could check out college campuses. He seemed more interested in sports offerings than course offerings and male:female ratios than professor:student ratios, but my parents pretended not to notice.
Under normal circumstances, a school like NYU would have been out of Tom’s league, but now that he was Jake Berenson’s ex-controller brother, he had a lot more options. Growing up, I was constantly called "Tom’s brother” by teachers and coaches. Now Tom would spend the rest of his life in my shadow. Even with his new frosted tips and stupid-looking goatee, he’s still constantly told by strangers that he looks like me.
For years, I fantasized about what it would be like to have Tom back. I kept a running list of all the little things I wanted to tell him, to ask him. All the disappointments and the triumphs, stored for the day when I would have a brother again. I always dreamed that I would save him. He would be so proud of me, knowing how hard I fought for him. I thought we would be closer than ever.
But that’s not how things worked out.
I didn’t deserve to have my brother back, or my parents, really. It was my fault that my parents had been made controllers in the first place. As for Tom, well, if it had been up to me, Tom would have died a slave along with the rest of the crew on the Blade ship. They didn’t blame me. Like everyone else, they all still acted like I was some big hero. But it didn’t stop me from blaming myself.
We lived separate lives now: my parents and Tom tried to regain some sense of normalcy, while I jetted around New York, DC, Vienna, Brasília…basically wherever important people met to talk about the whole alien situation. I didn’t really have a permanent home. I stayed with my family sometimes, but I never knew what to say to them anymore. Besides, after Tom’s three years of living hell as a controller, I figured he deserved our parents undivided attention for a while.
It worked out that my family’s New York trip was the same week as a UN General Assembly meeting I had to attend. We all stayed together at Marco’s flashy new Midtown apartment, because he gets seriously offended if I sleep anywhere else. Sometimes I wonder if Marco bought the place just to make sure I tell him when I’m coming to town. I’m glad he’s still my friend, despite my constant refusal to accompany him to hip dance clubs, movie premieres, and all the other celebrity-type places he loves so much.
This week, I was extra grateful to have Marco around. Usually I kept my family time short enough that we never ran out of small talk. And if there was one guy I could count on to provide a whole week’s worth of shallow conversation, it was Marco.
I wished Cassie could be here too. Usually we saw each other often enough. I spent a lot of time in DC, where she had an official day job with the Department of the Interior. But lately she’d been caught up in some never-ending emergency with the Hork-Bajir territory, and it was impossible to get her out of California. As the weeks dragged on, I’d started to worry that she was avoiding me.
It hadn’t been that long since I found out Cassie used the Time Matrix to change our final battle against the Yeerks. Apparently the first time the war ended, in a history that only Cassie can remember, I didn’t do so great. We still won, but I killed Rachel, Tom, and over seventeen-thousand unhosted Yeerks. The guilt drove me into hiding, and I ended up some sort of depressed hermit. Instead of meeting with world leaders, I holed up in my parent’s basement. I didn’t talk to my friends. I spent my abundant free time haunting Rachel’s grave, until someone offered me a chance to go on a suicidal space mission and put myself out of misery.
Ok, that might be a slight exaggeration, but from the limited, highly-euphemized details Cassie was willing to share, I knew that whatever happened to me wasn’t good. Part of me still doesn’t really believe it, but she would never lie about something like that. At least it helped explain why Cassie and I had been so out-of-sync since the war ended. The girl I loved had spent the last four years living a life where some twisted version of me wanted nothing to do with her.
I don’t know if she was ever planning on telling me. She only fessed up to using the Time Matrix because the Drode – servant of the evil, all-knowing Crayak – made an unexpected appearance. He wanted to shove it in our faces that by changing the past, Cassie unintentionally stopped me from interfering with Crayak’s plans elsewhere in the universe. We still don’t know what his plans are, other than that they were somehow connected to both the Blade ship and some alien species called the Kelbrid. With both the Blade ship and the Time Matrix gone forever, it’s unlikely we’ll ever find out.
In some ways, Cassie was relieved that I finally knew about her past. Now when she brought up events that never happened or people we never met, I just rolled with it. I stopped questioning her overly-specific advice about political strategy. Even when she mixed me up with her other-timeline boyfriend, Ronnie, I’d get a quick wince and an apology rather than an obvious cover-up. It didn’t make me feel great, knowing she had memories of being with someone else, but I guess it was better than the previous months when I thought she was either going senile or straight-up cheating on me.
I called her most days, but it wasn’t the same as having her around. Even though we don’t talk the way we used to, she still has this quiet way of keeping me going. Whenever things felt overwhelming, she reminded me of who I am. Or at least reminded me of the fearless leader I’m supposed to be. I never would have gotten this far if it weren’t for Cassie binding me to some semblance of morality and duty, making sure I didn’t get lost like the lame version of me she remembered.
I didn’t think so at the time, but during the war, everything was simple. Attack, survive, and attack again. Defeat the enemy. Even when the line between right and wrong got blurry, my goal never did. I just kept pushing past the growing pile of bodies: the innocent hosts, the helpless pool-bound Yeerks, Jara Hamee and his warriors, James and his friends. But after there was no one left to attack, I lost my simple, unfailing goal. It got harder to ignore the bodies. The rational side of me knew that’s what happens in war. Yet whenever things got too quiet, I could almost hear the voices of all the people I had failed, asking me if it was worth it.
It’s why I had to stay busy. Otherwise I had time to think. And there were too many things that I didn’t want to think about.
It wasn’t hard keeping busy, at first. I spent a lot of time with the Andalites and guys like General Doubleday, squashing remaining enemy holdouts. But once the threat was over, there wasn’t really a permanent place for me in the traditional military. The power dynamic shifted from the Joint Chiefs of Staff back to the politicians, and I was silently reassigned from being a strategic combat advisor to being a washed-up war hero.
These days, I spent most of my time with people whose main goal in life is to get re-elected, watching them scramble to maintain their power in a new, changed world. I spoke at their meetings, basking them in the warm glow of my popularity with their constituents. I played middleman for them with the Andalites, even when I barely understood the specifics of what they were arguing about in the first place.
Every once and a while I’d push an agenda in what I thought was the right direction. Most of the time, I was just nodding and rehashing the same talking points about unity and cooperation, hoping no one pointed out the irony that a guy called Jake the Yeerk Killer was the one preaching ‘love thy alien neighbor’.
As frustrating as it was, Cassie was convinced that all the boring diplomatic stuff was worthwhile, and that I was making a difference. It proved that I was the same old fearless leader Jake, not some new broken one.
“Do you guys mind if I borrow Jake for a bit?” I tuned back into the conversation as I heard Marco say my name. “Animorph business, you know. Top-Secret stuff.”
Before anyone could argue, Marco grabbed me and headed back to his bedroom, shutting the door behind us. He locked it, then put on a CD.
“...is that the Mission Impossible theme song?” I asked as the music started blaring.
He just grinned at me. Whatever he was up to, clearly he had been planning this for a while. “I thought it would be appropriate for the occasion.”
“Don’t tell me you were serious about the Top-Secret thing.”
“Oh, very Top Secret. The Tippiest-Toppiest.” He pulled out a large, sealed manila envelope. “Agent Berenson, here is your mission, if you choose to accept it.” He handed me the envelope.
I knew if I asked what it was, he would just spout more nonsense. I slit the envelope open and pulled out a stack of papers with a name at the top: Ronald Hanson Chambers.
As in Ronnie Chambers. Cassie’s ex/future/other boyfriend.
“I hate you,” I told him, only mostly kidding.
Marco was unfazed. “I think what you meant to say was: “thank you, my brilliant and very thoughtful best friend”. You know you’re dying of curiosity! But you can’t hire a private eye without being a psycho stalker boyfriend. Me on the other hand…” he tapped the ends of his fingers together, looking creepily like Mr. Burns from The Simpsons. “Anyway, you're welcome. Now scoot over, I want to read too. I paid good money for this thing.”
I looked back down at the paper. Marco was right about one thing: I was curious. Maybe it would make me feel better to know more about Ronnie. Internally, Cassie had to be comparing us anyway, so I may as well know what I was up against.
The report was way more detailed than I cared about, but I skimmed to get the basics. Ronnie was twenty-three. His mother was an environmental activist and his dad was some sort of woodsman survivalist guy. From a young age, he and his sister traveled with them around the world, learning to save the rainforest and be one with nature or whatever. He started college early, and he somehow already had two masters degrees from UCLA in Political Science and Environmental Studies. After a little break backpacking across South America, he’d recently started working for the California EPA, where he was already a rising star. In his spare time, he enjoyed rock-climbing, fostering rescue dogs, and going hiking with his close-knit family.
And on, and on.
“This better be a joke,” I threatened Marco.
“Oh come on, there’s got to be some dirt in here somewhere. No one’s that perfect.” Marco started flipping through pages. He reached the section near the back, with pictures. “No way! I want a refund. Someone cut this out of an Abercrombie ad.”
“It does look photoshopped, doesn’t it?” I said hopefully. Maybe Marco’s PI was a con-artist after all. Although I doubted any con-artist would bother being so thorough. The file covered everything from Ronnie’s flawless driving record to his Eagle Scout project.
Marco flipped through some more pictures. “Look at those biceps, wow. Bet you he doesn’t need a gorilla morph to rip a phonebook in half.”
“Great,” I muttered, “that’s just great.”
He looked apologetic. “Sorry, man. I had no idea. I mean, I thought this was going to be fun! I thought we’d be mocking some government dweeb who drives a Prius. I never imagined Cassie was getting hot and sweaty with Earth Day Fabio.”
“She’s not doing anything with him!” I said, probably more to myself than to Marco. “He doesn’t even know her.”
“You sure about that?” Marco tried not to let it show, but I could see his rising concern. “It’s not very specific about the government job here. What exactly is Cassie working on?”
“Negotiations for the Hork Bajir territory. This week she’s back in Sacramento, fighting some Environmental Impact Report.”
Marco gave me a pitying look. “Sacramento? As in the place where Ronnie lives? Working for the state Environmental Protection Agency?”
Shit.
How did I let this happen? Based on Cassie’s vague descriptions, she didn’t start going with Ronnie for at least two years after the war. With all my commitments, I hadn’t been the most attentive lately, but I figured we had the momentum to get me through another year or so before Ronnie came into play.
“I’m screwed, aren’t I?” I started to panic.
“No way! You and Cassie are iconic. Like Sid and Nancy, Jack and Rose, Buffy and Angel,” Marco listed off.
“Yeah, and how did those couples work out?” I said cynically.
“Hmm…you may be right there. You could be like Piper Perabu and what’s-his-name in Coyote Ugly, they had a happy ending.” Marco looked thoughtful. “Maybe I should do chick flicks – I’m way cuter than that guy.”
I glared at him. “If you’re trying to cheer me up, it’s not working.”
“Alright, alright,” said Marco, rolling his eyes. “Cassie literally risked the survival of the entire human race to get you back. That’s better than anything from some movie. She didn’t go through all that just to dump you now.” He looked back down at the file and raised an eyebrow. “Although it couldn’t hurt you to spend more time at the gym. Now that we know what Cassie’s used to…Ronnie looks like he’s got some stamina, if you know what I mean…”
I punched him in the arm, a little harder than I intended.
“Ouch!” He gave me a look while dramatically rubbing his arm. “Fine, Rocky, you don’t need more time at the gym. Either way, if Ronnie Handsome Chambers is sniffing around your girl, we need to know about it.” Before I could react, he hit some buttons on my phone, then put it on speaker mode.
“Wait! I’m not ready…” but I already heard the ringing stop. For once, Cassie actually picked up the phone right away.
“Hey sorry, I have to take this, it’ll only be a few minutes.” I could hear her muffled voice making apologies to whoever she was with. “Hi Jake. How’s New York with your family?”
“Umm…” I stuttered while Marco gestured at me wildly. “Good. We’re at Marco’s. It’s very…um…good.”
“Oh, I’m glad. How’s the UN?”
The UN. What was happening with the UN? Marco’s report had pushed everything else from my mind. “Ok, I guess. Mind-numbingly inefficient.”
“I’m sure you’re making progress. Did you get a chance to push on Brazil? The anti-poaching measures we talked about?” It was one of Cassie’s latest hyper-specific policy requests that I didn’t question.
“Yeah. I met the ministro de ambiento, or whatever he’s called. He introduced me to this lady from his department. Lorena? Lupita? Something like that. She seemed very…um…eager to work with me.”
“More than the usual?” She asked, and Marco raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t heard this story yet.
“Yeah, I guess. Maybe it’s just a cultural thing. In Brazil it’s normal to kiss people when you meet them, right?”
“I think so. On the cheek.”
“Oh. Maybe she has bad aim.” Marco had to cover his mouth to stifle his laughter.
This is why I stick to lame talking points, because otherwise my foot ends up in my mouth. I swear it’s like my brain is running in slow motion most of the time. “How’s it going with the environmental stuff? Did you get it sorted out?”
“Not yet, there are a lot of details to work on. Has Tom picked a school?”
Was she trying to change the subject?
“Maybe I could help?” I offered. “I can come out there, try and lean on someone at the EPA. Who are you working with?”
“Don’t do that,” she said a little too quickly. “I mean, that’s sweet of you, but it’s not necessary.”
I knew that Cassie liked being able to do things on her own, but she didn’t usually hesitate to bring me in when she got stuck. Even though we were both Animorphs, I guess she thought people listened to me more than her. Was there another reason she didn’t want me to meet whoever she was working with? I may be slow, but I wouldn’t give up that easily.
“Well maybe I should come out anyway. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. If you can get away…I mean, I’ll probably be here for at least another week. Lots to do. I really should get back, actually, they’re waiting for me. I love you.”
We didn’t used to say the L word very much, but I guess it was a habit she’d picked up with Ronnie. At least that was one area where I could keep up with him easily enough.
“I love you too.”
Marco just about exploded as soon as she hung up.
“... Maybe she has bad aim? Seriously? Dude, you need to go there, ASAP.”
“You think? She was acting sort of strange…” I was probably being ridiculous. But it was hard to feel confident with Ronnie’s Abercrombie face staring up at me from the file.
“It’s settled! You can fly back out West tomorrow night with me and your folks, then make your way up to the capital to fight for your girl.”
I nodded in agreement. “I’ll have to blow off some ambassadors, but if she’s spending time with Ronnie…seeing Cassie is more important.”
“Spoken like a true romantic,” said Marco, grinning. “Now tell me about this Lupita. She’s totally hot, isn’t she? I love Brazilian girls.”
“Nice try. Thanks, Marco.” I fled back down the hall to the relative safety of college pamphlets and my oblivious family.