We'll lose, we'll always lose
Summary: Just a short epilogue to the book in which Marco 'dies'. Jake's thoughts.
I slipped out of the suit jacket I'd worn to Marco s funeral and hung it back in my wardrobe. My pants and shirt went in the hamper and I fished through the pile of clothing on the floor, looking for my sleep shirt.
It had been a strange day; incredibly uncomfortable; I'd spent hours appearing to mourn my best friend's death while he'd sat back watching TV with a bunch of dogs and Erik the Chee.
It was somehow weirder than mind-controlling space aliens invading. Stranger than the fact that Marco had his mother back. The idea of Marco dying was foreign to me despite how often it nearly happened. He wasn't ever supposed to die, it was something my mind refused to believe. He was just...the person who was always there when I needed him. He'd been with me my entire life.
Yet he had died, somehow. He was living, sure, but his life was gone. He didn't have a home, he didn't go to school. He couldn't go to the mall with me or stay at my house or hang out at the beach. He couldn't challenge me to video games at the arcade or watch stupid movies with me at my house. He couldn't call me up on the phone to complain about how badly his last date went.
I couldn't talk to people about what he'd done, nobody was going to ask me how he'd been lately. If he got mentioned at all it was going to be in the past tense. His life was a memory. Everything was going to be different from now on.
I was sitting on the edge of my bed staring into space when my mother knocked on the door and came in. She'd cried at the funeral, a lot of people had actually. Cassie had cried even though she knew Marco was alive. I gave mum a smile and went back to staring at the floor. I hadn't cried. That was probably why my mum was here at the moment. They probably thought it was strange that I wasn't more upset. I just...couldn't bring myself to be. It was hard when I was more cranky than anything else. I was more worried about how I was going to handle battles and what to do about the Yeerks. I hadn't even bothered to listen to most of the eulogy, I'd been sitting there staring into space trying to figure out how contact with the Andalites was going to affect our position.
I felt guilty. But it wasn't like it was that important. Right? It was just a cover. Just keeping the Yeerks off our backs. It wasn't really my best friends funeral. Marco wasn't going to be upset that I hadn't taken it seriously.
It wasn't until I started thinking about the fact that Marco would probably get a real funeral one day that I started to get upset. It was supposed to be a reassuring thought, a way to make myself feel better about the fact that I hadn't really taken notice of this one. But instead it made me think about when and how Marco might actually die.
He could die, he was half way there. He could die before the war was over and nobody would even know what he d done. We probably wouldn't even get to do more than bury him if we even managed to do that. He could die as an animal, he could die as an insect. He could disappear completely and we'd have no idea what had happened to him. All of us could die like that but there would be no search to find Marco. Because the world, save for us few, already thought he was gone.
I was almost startled when Dad poked his head around the door, letting Homer into the room. The silly dog slunk up to my bed and stuck his nose in my hands as if to say, I'm sad too, why don t you pat me and then we'll both feel better. I stroked his long ears absently as Dad sat down on the bed between mum and I. He rested an arm across my shoulders, forcing me to lean against his chest.
I endured the position for longer than I thought I could. Sitting there, trying to think of something else while my parents did the support thing. I'm guessing it would've been more comforting if Marco was really gone.
I hated lying to them like this. It made me feel a bit sick. It was false and I could only imagine how they'd react if they knew I was deceiving them. I didn't deserve the comfort they were giving me so the entire situation made me feel uncomfortable. I just wanted something to be real for once. I was sick of all the pretending.
I was laying on my bed later that night incapable of sleeping. The wind outside was tearing through the trees, buffeting the walls and making the window panes shake and I could hear mum's bucket being blown off the patio and out into the back yard. There was a storm coming, it made me restless. But that wasn't the only reason I was incapable of sleep.
It'd only been five or ten minutes after mum and dad had gotten up and left when Tom had come into my room. As soon as I'd realised it was him I'd rolled over to face the wall trying to ignore him, hoping he wouldn't say anything. I was confused enough as it was without him being all understanding. There was also the fact that I really did have to act in front of him. A mistake was dangerous when he was around and I had a feeling he could probably tell if I was lying.
I felt him sit down on the bed and resisted the urge to turn over again so I could keep an eye on him. I really didn't like having my back to him, not that there was anything he could really do to me.
"Mum asked me to come talk to you but it's ok if you don't want to," he said quietly. I didn't want to. I didn't know how I was supposed to be thinking let alone what kind of conversation I should be having.
There was a few minutes silence before he spoke up again. I'd been hoping he'd just do the silent support thing, even if...no, mostly because...it's something that Tom wouldn't do. "I know we don t get along so much anymore and I know I've never lost someone like this, but I want you know your still my little brother and I m here for you no matter how far away it seems I've drifted."
It took a moment for what he'd said to register, but when it did I suddenly wished I could've seen his face while he said it. Was it Tom? Was it the Yeerk? Was it the Yeerk taking my brothers thoughts? Was Tom yelling at me from inside his own head or was he grieving Marco like I should've been doing. It hurt not knowing. It was eternally frustrating. I felt like reaching over and shaking him because Yeerks had taken my brother when I should've needed him most.
I just hoped to god he didn't offer to take me to a Sharing meeting as a way to get over my grief. It's what they did, prey on people's need for comfort as a way to convince them infestation by slugs was a good idea. And people who just couldn't stand to carry on were the type who allowed themselves to be taken over.
"I know you re sad now, and probably angry," he hesitated for a moment, shifting on the bed beside me. "And I know I didn't know him half as well as you did. But I do know that he'd want to see you laughing."
I tensed as Tom's hand rested against my shoulder for a moment before he got up off the bed and left the room. I tried to convince myself that the real Tom would've done a better job of comforting me, but I really had no idea whether he would have.
It was so long since I d known him at all. He was probably still fighting, but I'd lost him a long time ago. We were losing. Bit by bit. The Yeerks were taking more and more ground.
Tobias had lost everything. Marco had lost nearly everything. Which one of us would be next?