Plausible Deniability

Author's note: I don't own the Animorphs, of course! More parent!fic, this time from Dan's (i.e., Rachel's dad) POV. Not sure how this turned out but would very much appreciate your feedback!

Humanity had won. Earth had won. The Animorphs had won. It was definitely big news. And Dan Berenson, like every other reporter with any professional recognition to speak of, was there. By now, early breaking news had come out with some of the names, names that much to his surprise, Dan recognized. Cassie, Rachel's best friend. Jake, his nephew. Marco, Jake's best friend. The name of boy that rung no bells in his memory. And an unknown female, whose name they did not yet say. He did not let himself think that it could be Rachel. After all, Rachel would have made sure her name was said.

Up until this point, Dan had largely been spared the brunt of the war. By the time the news had reached the Midwestern city where he now lived, phone service in Southern California had been spotty at best, and so when his ex-wife did not pick up the phone, he could still fool himself into believing it was just a crappy connection, nothing else. His family could not have been taken. They could not be captured. They could not be dead. Never. At least, this was what he told himself every night. He almost believed it.

Dan now stood in a crush of other reporters, all straining to catch a glimpse of the figures just now exiting the Pool Ship. Three human forms, a frankly bizarre-looking alien who Dan learned is called an "Andalite," and a hawk. Dan recognizes Jake, but he is taken aback for a moment. His nephew is mere child, barely old enough to drive, and even from a hundred feet away Dan can feel his weariness, his utter exhaustion, his guilt. He knew in that instant that these were no children, that their ages were laughable lies, that war can age you more quickly than time alone. He also knew they could never go back, and frankly, it broke his heart.

Still, there was no Rachel. Dan chose to believe that she was not among them because she was not an Animorph. She is safe, he thought, if only because the alternative was too horrible to be true.

Dan had covered lots of tragedy in his career—murders, suicides, rapes, children abuse, combat deaths, you name it. They are, after all, what makes the news. Some of his colleagues had seemed completely calloused to it all, but Dan had not yet reached that stage. No, it still touched him, their grief and horror, and while he had interviewed them, the pain had been real, the grief tangible. But at the end of the day, they were still other people, other families-not him, not his daughters. It was selfish, yes, but that selfishness had kept him whole.

Someone closer to action asked the Animorphs to give their names, and they did.

Jake.

Cassie.

Tobias.

Marco.

Aximili.

No Rachel.

"We understand there was another person on the ship," the reporter inquired. "Another Animorph?"

"Yes," Jake answered solemnly. "There was. Her name was Rachel."

Was Rachel. Was.

There was a massive flash of cameras, an incredible rush of activity so intense that no one could have noticed or cared about one person out of thousands falling to his knees as his world began to crumble past the point of repair. Earth had been saved. His daughter was gone. Everyone else focused on the former, on the five warriors standing before him. And so, in a sea of countless human eyes, Dan Berenson was all but invisible.

But hawk eyes, you see, are much better than human ones. They can spot a mouse in a field from hundreds of feet away, and they can certainly spot a human, particularly one they once trailed around a city for an afternoon.

(I know. I loved her too.)

And that voice-that sad, telepathic voice-was the last thing Dan heard before his world went black.

I loved her too.