Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I do not own Animorphs or A Christmas Carol.

This time I woke up to the sensation of a pillow being thrown in my face.

I sat up and looked into a pair of very familiar blue eyes.

"I was waiting for you to show up," I greeted.

"Does this mean you've accepted that this is real?" Rachel asked me.

I shook my head. "No, it means that I've accepted that this is a dream. There's no way the Chee could have reproduced some of those memories."

"I probably wouldn't have believed it either," Rachel confided. "So even though this is absolutely real, believe what you will. As long as you actually learn something."

"I've missed you," I told her.

She tossed her hair. "Why wouldn't you?"

"And I'm sorry," I said quietly.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I know."

I waited. What was it with the people whose deaths I had in some way caused having so little to say on the matter? If they were trying to spare my feelings then they really needn't bother.

"Is that it?"

"Just about," Rachel replied. "The rest is pretty typical, I think."

"I'd like to hear it anyway," I insisted.

Rachel sighed. "Of course you would. I don't understand why you're so determined to drown yourself in guilt. What happened happened, alright?"

I didn't say anything.

"Fine," Rachel said, sounding a little annoyed. "I didn't want to die; of course I didn't. And when the Blade Ship ultimately escaped it took me awhile before I accepted that my death wasn't in vain. I hate watching you and Tobias throwing away the lives that you have and I don't and I hate that you two are using me as an excuse to wallow. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

I shrugged.

"Of course not. You have no idea what you want," Rachel said, unsurprised.

"I'm not wallowing," I told her.

"Jake, the world loves you. The Andalites have actually started to talk about how Andalite-like you are and you know what that means coming from them. The Hork-Bajir consider you one of their saviors. The Yeerks aren't really fans but even they can't completely hate you because you fought for their right to become nothlits. You are young and you've got this whole world – and more! – open to you. What are you doing with your life?" Rachel demanded.

"I don't know," I admitted. Everyone always asked me that and I always avoided the question but when Rachel asked me it was different. It was like I owed her the answer since I got to have a future to 'throw away' and she didn't. "I guess I'm waiting for the trial."

Rachel grinned briefly at that. "Ah yes, the trial. Do you know how much I love the idea that the ever-arrogant Visser One will be judged in our courts by our laws for what he did to us? It'll make his head explode."

"I'm glad you approve," I told her. I could have just killed him, of course, but after what had happened with Rachel and Tom I wasn't feeling particularly merciful. He could spend the rest of his life rotting in the Yeerk Pool he had gone to such great lengths to escape and, what's more, he could do it alone.

She turned serious again. "Do you know what I would be doing right now?"

I shook my head. "No. What?"

"First, if Tobias were still being stupid I wouldn't leave him alone until he snapped out of it," Rachel declared. She sounded so wistful. "And he might, you know. Not all of his issues are about me. We definitely would have settled the whole becoming human thing now that he no longer has the war as an excuse. And then…then I'd go see the world. Maybe he'd come and maybe he wouldn't. I would go tour the planet that I'd help save and I'd have a proper adventure. Skydiving and cliff climbing and swimming with sharks…It would have been amazing."

"I'm sorry." What else could I say?

"Yeah? Well so am I but you don't see me spending my time sulking," Rachel said pointedly. "And for the record you are treating my best friend abominably."

I held up my hands. "I haven't done anything to Cassie!"

"That's kind of my point," Rachel muttered, looking like she couldn't believe anyone could be that stupid. "Let's go see all the life that you could be living but refuse to why don't we?"

She snapped her finger and suddenly we were on a plane. Men with parachutes were standing around and one of them was looking out of the open plane door. "Alright, who's first?" he asked.

"You're taking me skydiving?" I couldn't believe it.

Rachel shook her head. "No, actually, I was supposed to take you to see Marco. As you can see, I'd rather watch skydiving." She snapped her fingers again.

Marco and his parents were sitting in front of the fireplace at Marco's new house. Christmas in California really isn't cold enough to need a fire but I guess Marco was just getting into the spirit of things. A white Christmas, apparently ideal, wasn't the kind of thing we Californians could expect when we stayed at home.

"Marco, you realize that it's deeply disturbing to be blasting the air conditioning while you have a fire going, right?" Eva asked rhetorically.

"I don't think it is," Marco disagreed. "After all, if the weather won't cooperate then we mere mortals have to take matters into our own hands."

"I have to agree with your mother on this one," Peter told him. "Air conditioning cold isn't really the same as winter cold."

Marco threw his hands in the air. "First I'm doing too much and then I'm not doing enough! Will nothing satisfy you?"

"Well, turning off the air conditioning might," Eva said dryly.

"Think of the bill," Peter said beseechingly.

"That's the benefits of having more money than you know what to do with," Marco said brightly. "I really don't have to."

"Think of the environment," Peter tried.

Marco groaned. "See, this is why I didn't invite Cassie. And besides, I can't possibly turn off or even down the air conditioning. It would be way too hot for a fire if I did."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have a fire," Eva suggested.

"But it's Christmas!" Marco protested.

"In California," Eva countered. "I don't recall us ever having another Christmas with a fire."

Marco nodded solemnly. "A travesty I'm working to correct on this, the best Christmas ever."

"Oh, is that what this is?" Eva asked innocently.

"And if I didn't have a fire once in awhile, which you'll agree I usually need the air conditioning for, then what's the point of even having a fire place? Decoration?" Marco asked, making a face.

"That is an excellent question and probably one that you should have considered before buying the place," Peter said sensibly.

"Wonderful Christmas spirit, guys," Marco said, shaking his head in faux-disappointment. I was perfectly aware that he was enjoying himself immensely with these silly little arguments. He always did.

They fell into silence for a few minutes.

"Nora sent me a Christmas card," Peter announced suddenly. "That's nice of her. I wouldn't have thought she would given the fact that she was forced to marry me. I should call her."

There was a quick flash of what might have been guilt on Marco's face. It appeared that he hadn't admitted to his father that Nora had only been infested the night that he and Rachel had saved Peter. I wonder how they'd convinced Nora to go along with it. If they had convinced Nora to go along with it. For all I knew she was out there wondering why her husband couldn't even be bothered to contact her before getting back with his first wife. If they'd actually spoke, of course, then there was no way that Marco's father wouldn't know the truth unless Nora was feeling really selfless.

"That's nice of her," Eva said, clearly not meaning a word of it. "So, Marco, I thought that Jake was going to be coming over."

Marco sighed. "I asked him, Mom. He wasn't interested."

"That's too bad. I hate to think that this war managed to destroy your friendship on top of everything else," Peter said, frowning.

"I haven't given up," Marco assured him. "And hey, it's not like I don't still have my remarkable powers of annoyance. No one can say no to me forever once I really get going."

Eva chucked. "Poor Jake."

"It's for his own good," Marco said nobly.

"Well?" Rachel asked, nudging me.

I considered. "It's true; Marco can be extremely annoying."

She laughed. "You won't get any arguments from me but that wasn't quite what I meant."

"I know," I admitted. "I'm glad that Marco's happy. There's a little bit of awkwardness concerning Nora but his dad doesn't seem to be making a huge effort on that front. They'll be okay. And even if Peter finds out that Nora wasn't always a Controller, Marco can always – and probably will – claim that he thought she was."

"That's great, Jake, but what about the part pertaining to you?"

That was harder. "It's…nice, I guess, that he's going through so much trouble but he really doesn't need to. I'm really fine."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Yes because that's exactly why several dead people have decided to come and talk to about your life choices."

"And here I thought you just wanted to visit," I said wryly.

"Well if Marco won't convince you then what about Cassie?" Rachel asked curiously.

My eyes widened. "That's really not-"

Rachel snapped her fingers.

"Necessary," I said belatedly, looking around at the changed scenery. Now I knew why Grandpa G had requested that I close my eyes. It's quite disconcerting to see the world reform around you.

Cassie was sitting in the kitchen of her parent's house watching her parents cook.

"Well you know me," Rachel said cheerfully. "I like to go above and beyond."

"Are you sure I can't help out?" Cassie asked them. "I feel kind of useless just sitting here watching you make dinner."

"Of course we're sure," Michelle told her. "You work so hard and we just want you to relax and let us take care of it."

"But if it really means all that much to you, you can feel free to clean up," Walter joked.

"I've missed Cassie," Rachel said fondly. "I always knew, somehow, that she would come out of the war practically the exact same she went into it. I mean, look at that sweater! It's at least two sizes too big! At least her jeans don't seem to have bird poop on them. Then again, that's probably just because it's Christmas…"

Cassie laughed quietly.

"What?" Walter asked.

"Nothing," Cassie said, still smiling. "I just thought of what Rachel would say if she could see me now."

"She knows me so well," Rachel said, smiling.

"What?" Michelle asked.

"She'd probably complain about my outfit," Cassie replied.

"She wouldn't," Michelle tried to assure her.

Cassie snorted. "Please, Mom. It's Rachel. Of course she would. All the mushy catching up could wait."

"So," Walter said carefully. "This is your first Christmas since she died. Are you alright?"

Cassie was quiet for a moment, considering. "I think I am, actually," she said, sounding a little surprised by her own answer. "I didn't think I would be, at first, but I really am. That's not to say I don't miss her, of course, but…I'm okay."

"Good," Rachel said emphatically. "The last thing I need is her wallowing on top of everything else."

"What about Jake?" Michelle asked, just as carefully.

Suddenly Cassie wasn't looking at them anymore. "What about him?"

"When was the last time you saw him?" Michelle pressed.

Cassie sighed. "I don't even remember. I want to call but…well, I hope I'm not falling into the trap where we both wait for the other one to call but I just want to give him some space. He took the war harder than any of us except Tobias."

"And you're okay with that?" Michelle asked, concerned.

Cassie shrugged. "I don't know. Not really but what can you do? I said I'd give him a year, you know. I'm not just waiting for the sake of waiting; there's not anybody else for me right now. If he doesn't, though…I'm not going to sit around forever. There's nobody today and there won't be anybody tomorrow but one day there will be."

"That's very mature of you, Cassie," Walter said approvingly. "How'd we get such a wonderful daughter, Michelle?"

"It's my side of the family," Michelle claimed.

"See! You are ruining things with her!" Rachel accused, whacking me on the arm.

"Ow!" I complained. Huh. Apparently she was corporeal.

"You still have time. Stop screwing up!" she ordered.

"Maybe I'll call her," I conceded, hoping she wasn't going to hit me again.

"That's what you always say," Rachel said disgustedly. "And you never do."

"Well, maybe this time I will," I said, annoyed both that she clearly didn't believe me and at the truth in her words.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Rachel said skeptically. "Come on; we've got one more stop."

"What's your family doing?" I asked, curiously. As with many other things, I hadn't actually followed up on how they had handled losing her despite the fact that they were family. Or maybe because of.

Rachel sighed. "My dad's still having trouble believing any of it. My mom blames herself. Jordan's having trouble with the fact that the hero me that she hears about wasn't very much like the impatient and never around me that she remembers. Sara's too young to really get it. She probably won't even remember me properly."

"I'm sorry."

"That is getting seriously annoying," Rachel said flatly.

"I'm-" I stopped. That wouldn't help matters. "Never mind."

"Good," Rachel said, satisfied. "And if you're really so concerned about my family then you could always see them."

Subtle as always, that was Rachel.

"After the look your mother gave me when she saw me at the funeral?" I asked incredulously. "I like my head attached to my neck, thank you very much."

"I was there," Rachel informed me. "And despite the fact that I was still getting over being dead…it was fantastic. Everyone should have a funeral like that. Interesting eulogy you gave."

I shrugged, not really wanting to talk about the terrible time after the war had first ended. It was bad enough how often I thought about it.

Rachel snapped her fingers and I had just managed to shut my eyes as the world began to change.

I opened my eyes to find that I was home. I glanced around but Rachel was still there. I might have known as I wasn't in my bedroom.

My parents were still sitting at the table but the dishes had been cleared away. They weren't talking.

"What am I supposed to be seeing here?" I asked.

"Just watch," Rachel said, unwilling to just tell me.

"What are we going to do?" my mom asked finally.

"I don't know," my dad tiredly.

"What's wrong?"I asked, alarmed. "Are they having marital problems?"

I should have thought of this. I don't know the numbers but I know that a lot of people get divorced after losing a child because the memories are just too painful. Add in their own experiences as Controllers and I really should have expected there to be some issues.

"Would you have noticed if they were?" Rachel asked pointedly.

I continued to stare at her.

"Just keep watching," she instructed.

"I've gone back and looked through every parenting book we ever bought but there's nothing in here about what to do when your child is blaming himself for the deaths of his brother and cousin," my mom said, shaking her head. "I've tried, Steve, I really have but I don't know what to do. I don't know how to get through to him."

"Me?" I asked, stunned. "I'm the one causing them problems?"

"Don't start feeling guilty," Rachel advised. "Because that is the problem right there."

"I've been talking to a buddy of mine, a psychiatrist," my dad told her. "I think Jake might have PTSD." At her questioning look, he elaborated. "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. A lot of people get it after being in war."

"Do you think he needs a psychiatrist?" my mom asked worriedly. "He didn't really like the idea before."

"But before it was probably something war-related and he couldn't really talk about what was really bothering him," my dad pointed out. "Now he can but there's no guarantee that they'd really understand and I think he knows that. And I think that, seventeen or not, we really couldn't force him to anymore."

"Do you think we should at least bring it up?" my mom asked. "It has to be worth a try, right? Maybe Jake will get mad but maybe he'll try to get the help that he needs. I just want to help him but I don't know how and maybe this professional will."

"I love Jake and as long as he wants to stay here with us, he's welcome," my dad declared. "But he's carrying too much around with him. I just want him to be happy and I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon if we just let it alone."

"It's something to think about at any rate," my mom said heavily. "We lost one son and I don't want to do nothing and lose the son we still have."

"Well?" Rachel asked, almost gently. "Does that answer your question?"

It did but it left me unsure of what to say.

My first reaction was indignation. I didn't need a therapist. I was fine. No matter what apparently everyone else in my life thought, I was fine. I really didn't even understand all the concern but I knew that that was all it was: honest concern. The people who cared about me were worried and I really didn't need that on top of everything else.

The more I was seeing the more I was starting to wonder if maybe – just maybe – they might have had a point.

Rachel's head jerked up suddenly. "I have to go."

"What?" I asked, startled. "Why?"

"My time's up," she said simply. "Your little path to self-discovery isn't over, though. There's one more person here to help you but then you'll have to figure it out by yourself."

"Rachel…" I said helplessly. I didn't want to see her go again because I knew that once she did then I'd never see her again.

"I know," she said, nodding. "And let me leave you with this: if you absolutely must refuse to stop feeling guilty for my death then for God's sake put that guilt to some use! Remember every happy moment and bit of romance and good old-fashioned adrenaline rush that I'll never get to have and stop acting like you're dead, too."

"I'll…I'll try," I promised her as she faded away.

I looked around. I wasn't at home anymore; I was in a graveyard.

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