Chapter 2 (Cassie)

"Cass?"

"Yeah, Ronnie?"

"I think you should see this."

I put down my book and looked at the TV, which was running a news program. I turned the sound up.

"Late last night, four of the Animorphs returned home from a top-secret rescue mission. As you all know, almost a year ago Prince Aximili's ship the Intrepid went missing, and soon thereafter, renowned former Animorphs Jake Berenson and Marco Esteban followed suit and disappeared. Just last night, Jake, Marco, and Prince Aximili, as well as the so-called 'forgotten Animorph' Tobias Fangor, landed a bizarre craft on a landing strip in L.A. airport. On the scene, Nathan Hunt reports."

The camera switched to showing an alien craft, unlike any I had ever seen before, resting on the tarmac, with Jake, Tobias, Marco, and Ax standing in front of it, talking to a reporter.

I think I nearly fainted when I saw Jake there, looking at me through the screen. He looked battle-worn, and hardened. It was the Jake I had known during the war looking back at me, not the Jake I had watched deteriorate into a shell over the years since.

No, it couldn't be. That was just wishful thinking on my part. Lord, why could I still not let the past go, after it had been so long? Why was there that part of me that simply refused to move on?

Or . . . maybe it wasn't my imagination. There was something there . . . some tiny spark in Jake's eyes that I hadn't seen since . . .

I think Ronnie noticed, too. Maybe he didn't notice the difference in Jake, but he definitely noticed the difference in me. I caught him giving me his 'concerned' look.

"What?" I asked defensively.

"Nothing," he said. "I just noticed the way you were looking at Jake. And I wondered . . well, I wondered whether you still miss him."

I shut the TV off, right as they were moving to the next story. Something about an 'increase in reported Arn sightings.' The Arn were the new Bigfoot, these days. There were quite a few nutcases out there who still thought that the Arn weren't actually extinct, and tourists on the Hork-Bajir planet sometimes claim to have seen one. I paid the report no mind.

"I do," I answered Ronnie. "I miss the Jake I used to know. I think maybe I always will, deep down. But I need to accept that that Jake isn't coming back." I shook my head, telling myself to move on. Jake and I were over. Ancient history.

So then . . . why had I felt so elated to see him again? Why was I so relieved to know he was alive, when I had decided long ago that he must surely be dead?

Deeper down . . . that relief just barely masked the feelings of guilt and dread that haunted me whenever I thought about the war. Seeing Jake like that, whether it had been my imagination or not . . . that sight brought it all back. I shivered.

Why couldn't these feelings just let me go? Why couldn't my own memories just leave me alone? It had been four years. Four years since it had all ended. They say time heals all wounds. But I guess they're wrong.

Ronnie put his arm around my shoulders, trying to comfort me. "I'm sorry," I apologized. "I can imagine how awkward you must feel when I start talking about Jake like that."

"It's okay, honey," he said, holding me closer. "I know I'm not Jake, but-"

"But you know what?" I interrupted him, finishing his sentence for him. "I think I'm okay with that." With that, I pulled him close, and I kissed him.