Author's Note: I am back, after two years. College is the highest priority, fan fiction at its lowest. Y'all know how life sings, right? And be sure to check out the song referenced in this fic, it fits so perfectly with Rachel. Also: it's been over two years since I've written any fan-fic, and I have no beta. So here it is in its rusty glory!
Disclaimer: Animorphs is owned by KA Applegate and Scholastic.
Summary: A series of conversations from the beginning to the end, and back again.
The friendship between Marco and Rachel starts out in small measure of disappointment.
"Hi."
"Hello."
"You're Rachel, right? Jake's cousin?"
"What if I am?"
"I'm Marco. Jake's best friend."
"Hmmm."
"What?"
"I've heard about you, that's all."
"Huh. You sound disappointed. What gives?"
"I thought you'd be taller."
Rachel is always there for Marco in improving his wardrobe . . .
"Marco, that outfit looks stupid on you."
"You think everything I wear is stupid."
"The whole nineties statement is old, lost its touch."
"Rachel, this is the nineties."
"What are you getting at?"
. . . as Marco is always there for Rachel in improving her diet.
"Seriously, Rachel, sushi is so overrated. It's food for losers."
"Really? Is that what you eat, Marco?"
Friends tell secrets, but they never ruin surprises.
"So, Rachel, so while me and Jake—"
"Jake and I."
"—were risking our lives in a tiger pit, what morph did you acquire?"
"You'll see. It will totally rule over your gorilla morph."
"Ha! Not likely."
"Oh really? Are you willing to bet on that?"
"I bet on my allowance your morph can't outdo mine."
"Allowance? What allowance?"
The greatest thing Rachel can ever be for Marco is moral support.
/Can anyone tell me again as to why are we going on this kamikaze? /
/So no one can hear you whine. /
Rachel is always there to lend a helping hand, especially for Marco.
"I'm going to need your help, Rachel."
"Why?"
"Well, Ax-man is stuck in the tree."
"How . . . how he managed that?"
"He wanted some apples, and thought it would be high time for him to learn how to climb in human morph."
"Where are you?"
"At the Sharing's meeting building."
"At the Shar—! Jake's gonna have your head."
"Nah, he won't."
"Then if he doesn't, then I WILL."
Any good friend would have entertaining messages on the answering machine . . .
"Hi, you have just reached Rachel ———'s voicemail. Just leave a message after the tone, I'll call right back."
"'Call right back' my butt, Rachel. Meeting at Cassie's, pronto. And don't go complaining that you are going to miss some hot action."
. . . Just as they would have entertaining replies on such messages.
"Hey, you just got my voice mail, so you know the drill."
"Marco, your answering machine is hideous. I didn't get your name! Anyway, meeting's canceled, sucker."
Improving old rhymes is Marco's favorite pastime. Just ask Rachel.
"It's raining, it's pouring, and the old Visser is—"
"Shut up."
When cornered, it is always a good thing to have Rachel around for arousing confidence.
/We're trapped, aren't we? /
/Unless we go that direction, no. /
/But that is where Visser Three and his platoons of Hork-Bajir are waiting for us. /
/I know. /
/This is crazy. /
/I know. /
/You are giddy about this, aren't you? /
/Yes. /
/You are out of your mind. /
/We are out of time. Die here or die there. /
/I pick there. /
/Yeah, I thought so. /
/ . . .well? /
/Let's do it! /
Like a good friend, Marco will gladly help Rachel with her hair care.
"Rachel?"
"Yes, Marco."
"I don't know how to say this, but . . ."
"Just spill it."
"Well, uh, heh—"
"Marco."
"You got a bit of Taxxon on your head."
". . . oh hell."
Real friends never run from each other.
"Marco?"
"Hmm?"
"If I were to tell you that I am going somewhere and I am not coming back, what you and the others would think?"
"If this is not a rhetorical question, Rachel, then I'm not going to answer."
"It is."
"Hmm. Then it depends, really. Where are you going, rhetorically?"
"Somewhere far from the war effort."
"Then I am going to think you can't leave."
"Why? Is it because it is my duty?"
"No. Because you can't escape it."
"How would you know that?"
"I just know."
"You mean you just guessed."
"Sometimes you have to guess, Rachel. But you can't always pack up and leave for good."
"I'm not leaving."
"No, you're not, I can tell. You are certainly welcome to try, but you'll always come back."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Well, Cassie came back, for one."
Unfortunately, friends tend to read each other's minds, which is not always a good thing.
"Rachel—"
"No."
"But—"
"No."
"But you didn't even—"
"I did."
"Well, why—"
"Because I say so."
Murphy's Law: The only thing more accurate than incoming enemy fire is incoming friendly fire.
/Marco! Where the hell are you? I do not smell your stupid money hide! And get out of my way, jerk—! /
/ I'm right—ow! OW! That was me, you crazy— /
/Since when did you switch your battle morph to Hork-Bajir? /
/Some things are better left not said, okay? /
Even Marco has reason to celebrate the Special Day with Rachel.
"Wait, wait. Hold up. How we've end up with this?"
"I have no idea, Polo. Let's rework the problem."
"What, again?"
"I mean, it is clearly wrong. Look, x shouldn't be negative, because the given answer is positive so—"
"Right, right."
". . ."
". . ."
"Rachel?"
"Yes?"
"It's ironic, isn't it. About today."
" . . .yes, it is, yes."
"It is the two year anniversary of the construction site. We should celebrate."
"Helping your math homework is torture enough."
"Then forget the math. We should celebrate."
"That is even more ironic, coming from you."
"Even more reason to party."
"I think I know where this is heading . . ."
"Oh, good. Let's head out."
"Only if you're buying."
The greater the friendship, the lesser the need to say the obvious.
"What are you listening too, Rachel?"
"My dad left some his CDs back here, so I just grab one and listened to it. This one is April Come She Will by Simon and Garfunkel."
"I would never think you would listen to Simon and Garfunkel."
"I never heard of them."
"Somehow, that does not surprise me."
"Yeah."
"Rachel?"
"Hmm."
"Don't worry about it, okay?"
"Yeah. Okay then."
Even if the going gets tough, Marco still finds the time to be with Rachel whether she wants it or not.
"I spy something ugly."
"The sky."
"Oh come on, Rachel, I thought you were witty than this."
"It is kinda hard being funny when your neighbors are walking switchblades."
"Oh, Xena is giving up a game of I Spy? Somebody get the tabloids!"
"Marco—"
"No, listen. We are up to are necks here, Jake is this close to becoming the Ancient Mariner, Cassie's restless, your mom's crankier than you, Cassie's parents are being the chief surgeons of the Hork-Bajir and my parents are acting like they are on their honeymoon. If you and I can't do what we always do, then this is it. This is the end of Earth."
"The Ancient Mariner, Marco? I never thought you were poetically literate."
"Hmph. I surprise you every time, Rachel. You, on the other hand, are predictable."
"Maybe. Maybe not."
"I mean, really."
"Oh, so you did not predict that I will be lying next to you in the valley, making up reasons as to ignore you just so you can say I am predictable?"
"Hmph."
"Gotcha."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Thanks, Marco."
Unlike lovers, friends can predict the end for each other, and the last words are not the saddest or the weariest, but the most normal of all in friendships.
/Rachel. /
/Marco. /
/What's going on? /
/Nothing. I think Jake's got a plan, so I'm getting ready. /
/Hmm. That's a change in character. /
/Yeah, I guess. /
/So I take this pre-determined plan of Jake's plan will involving you kicking some Yeerk's ass. /
/Maybe. I don't know. /
/And knowing Jake, it will be done by you alone. /
/Maybe. /
/And knowing you, you won't be telling Tobias this. /
/Maybe. /
/Or Cassie. /
/Maybe. /
/Or your mother or sisters. /
/Yeah. But they know how to deal with the bad. I mean, my mom is finally adjusting to the fact that she the de facto Thomas Jefferson of the Hork-Bajir. /
/Yeah. /
/And I am totally not expecting you to take care of my sisters. /
/What, you doubting my charm? /
/What charm is there to doubt? /
/Oh yeah? What about Jordan? /
/She'll grow out of it. /
When Rachel died, there is no way for Marco to find a friend like her again.
"So anyway, that was a bit a waste of time."
"It sounds like it, Marco."
"But then again, if the producer had let me have the part, then my masculinity will make others swoon to me."
"You definitely made me swoon, Marco."
". . . yeah, I did, have I Kate? Tip, please."
Marco talks to her often; even though he has the sneakiest suspicion she is not there to hear him.
"Jake screwed up over Visser Three's trial. Visser One's lawyer accused him of being a war criminal and he practically froze to the whole world. The judges dismissed it, the whole world and the Andalites cried foul but I don't think it really mattered to Jake. I think he think himself as a war criminal until he dies, Rachel. That never occurred to me this would happen. We tried to knock sense into him by dumping him into the ocean once, but it didn't work. Jake's alive, Rachel, but he's gone like you. It's like he's half dead, like a zombie.
"You know, I think if you hadn't died, Rachel, I think he would be able to get his head out of his butt. We, the rest of the Animorphs, we're not as strong as we used to be. I don't think he would have been broken if you lived. If you lived, I think we all would have pulled him from his depression. But we couldn't because . . . because we all rely on you as our strength. Yeah, I think you killing Tom would scar him from life, but he knew the risk from the very beginning. I just don't think he was counting on the fact he would have one of us killed.
"I'm sorry."
As a self-proclaimed playboy who wants nothing more than Rachel to be by his side as he goes on his dates, Marco knows in sudden clarity he will see her soon.
"Hey, Rachel. Listen, I'm going out and rescue Ax from some hostile alien race. No, not the Yeerks, don't worry, just some other aliens. Yeah, I hear they're a bit like you: warlike and such. So, I'm going, Jake's going, Tobias coming, three others are coming. Another Andalite, some soldier buff and a hot French chick.
"Anyway, I thought you should know."
Reunions are often bittersweet, painful and awkward. This is not the case.
"You're late."
"I'm not late; I am entering with a dramatic flare."
"In Marco: Late."
"Tomato, Tomato."
"Humph, even it is what is called dramatic flare, it is not very good."
"I see being dead hasn't changed you at all."
"Life hasn't changed you either. You're still the same the last time I saw you."
"You still look good."
"I can't say the same for you."
"You are just upset that I'm famous and rich and have many girlfriends at my side."
"Was famous."
"Yeah, well, at least being famous-y supports Mom and Dad for their rest of their lives."
"But what about Nora, your step-mom?"
"She left."
"Well, that's a start."
"I guess. Speaking of starting, where are the others?"
"Well, I think it might be a while before they arrive."
"Aw, man. Now I know Jake's going to be an incurable mess once he gets here, the stubborn ass."
"He won't."
"Why makes you say that?"
"Look around you. Does it look like he'll stay down for long? Tom's here too. He'll get over it quickly enough."
"Oh. Right. So we'll just wait for them?"
"Yep. That's exactly what we are going to do. We got time."
"Good."
"So: was Jake an incurable ass afterward?"
"Yes, he—wait-a-minute, you didn't know?"
"Didn't know what?"
"I told you all this! I told you about the trial and Jake's screwed up at that nightmare and my dates and—"
"You haven't told me of this, Marco."
"But I did! I visited your grave a ton of times."
"Oh god, Marco, I so did not want to hear that."
"That's pretty selfish of you of not wanting us to visit your grave, Rachel."
"Marco, my dead body can't hear you, no matter how horrible you sing."
"Woman, you are truly the death of me."