Concerned Parents

Disclaimer: I do not own Animorphs.

Once, for two days I had to morph Prince Jake and pretend to be him. I was successful in fooling his parents and brother. Although I later learned that his parents believed "he" had become mentally ill. When the real Prince Jake returned, they took him to see a doctor.

-Animorphs #8.

It's been a little over a week since the Yeerk died and my parents had yet to stop exchanging 'worried parent' looks whenever I was in the room. I suppose it's only natural given that Ax is hardly the most convincing human around but at least they and Tom didn't realize it wasn't really me. Regardless of what the Yeerk had told me friends, I hadn't really believed that there would be trouble on that front. It was one thing to see that I was acting bizarre but quite another to decide that that must mean that it wasn't really me but rather a shape-shifting alien not used to having a mouth. Occam's razor, anyone?

Still, between my new nightmares about that…thing (at least I was no longer dreaming about hunting my brother), my friends insisting on treating me like glass, and the memories of despair I'd absorbed from Tom, I was really hoping that my parents would realize that I was fine and stop looking at me like that. Well…comparatively fine at least. Only marginally less fine than I was before I got infested and they hadn't seemed to think that anything was wrong with me then. Now, though, they were looking closer and so I'd need to make sure to be extra careful and normal-looking.

I walked into the kitchen, intending to slip out the back door and then head over to Marco's to see if he wanted to do something but stopped at the sight of my parents and Tom sitting at the table. It was two in the afternoon or so so it was after lunch and the conversation ceased once I entered the room. My parents looked as grim and concerned as they had all week and my brother appeared to be a little uncomfortable. The Yeerk probably didn't want anything to do with this but my parents weren't letting him avoid it.

"Jake, sit down," my mom said gently.

I looked longingly at the door. If I had tried to head out the front door I probably would have made it. I sighed internally and sat down across from Tom. I had been trying to act as normal as possible since I had gotten back but the damage had already been done and I was feeling a little off anyway.

"How are you feeling?" my dad asked.

I shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

My mom and dad exchanged another Look. So that wasn't a good enough answer? What was I supposed to have said instead?

"Jake, you know that we love you very much," my mom began.

These conversations – the ones where people have to reassure you that they love you before they start – never, ever ended well. Rachel said that that was how her parents began the 'We're going to take a break' and 'We're getting a divorce' conversations. Given that the morning before I got infested, breakfast with my parents saw them acting like they were on their first date (again), I rather doubted that was it. "Yeah, I know."

"And we're only doing this because we're very concerned," my dad continued.

"Mom, Dad, Jake looks like he's about to freak out over there," Tom mercifully spoke up. "Just tell him."

My dad nodded. "Jake, your behavior last week concerned us greatly and even though you seem to be fine now, we don't want to take any chances. We're taking you to a psychiatrist on Thursday."

My eyes widened. "What? I don't need a psychiatrist."

The truth is that I could probably use a psychiatrist. If my recent infestation wasn't enough then the months of fighting a secret invasion and living with the knowledge that my own brother was in the enemy's hands would be. Unfortunately, I couldn't actually mention any of that or else I'd be headed to the Yeerk Pool before I knew what was happening or I'd be dismissed as crazy and there might be a delay before a Controller found out and I was taken to a Yeerk Pool. Going to a psychiatrist when I had so much to say but couldn't afford to voice any of it was not only pointless, it was rather cruel as well.

"It's just an evaluation," my mom promised. "We'll tell Dr. Greyfield our perception of what happened and then you'll get your turn. He'll give you the standard evaluation and see if you need his services."

"If he's going to gain a customer if he says I need a psychiatrist then of course he'll say that!" I protested.

"It's a patient, not customer," Tom corrected me. "Though I see what you mean."

"Dr. Greyfield is a professional and he comes highly recommended," my mom assured me. "He wouldn't do that to you."

Maybe, maybe not. I knew nothing about this guy, after all, and if the psychiatrist was any good, he'd probably realize that I could use one and tell my parents despite the fact it really wouldn't do me any good.

"I don't need a psychiatrist," I said again. "I'm not crazy."

Tom snorted. "Midget, obsessively eating everything in sight and playing with every other sound you make isn't exactly sane behavior."

I pushed aside a sudden wave of anger and hoped that it didn't show on my face or in my body language. That was Tom's name for me and the Yeerk had no right to use it.

"No one's saying you are," my dad said soothingly, shooting Tom a dirty look. "Psychiatrists don't just treat 'crazy people,' Jake, no matter what you see on TV."

"Dr. Greyfield saw your cousins for a few weeks after the divorce," my mom added. "Psychiatrists treat all kinds of people: people who are too stressed, people going through major life changes, even just people who are lonely and need someone to talk to."

That was all well and good but that didn't change the fact that when people said 'psychiatrist' I tended to think 'crazy people' or the fact that they were planning on taking me because Ax's imitation of me convinced them that I was crazy.

"Jake, I know you don't want to do this," my dad told me, "but your mother and I are worried and we'd never forgive ourselves if something was wrong and we did nothing about it."

Something is wrong and they can't ever find out because if they do they'll be in terrible danger. I guess they'll have to someday because even should a miracle occur and we win, the Yeerk invasion can't realistically be covered up forever. I wonder if they'll be more upset that they never noticed my war or Tom's enslavement. I don't blame them, of course, and as of a few days ago neither did Tom but I think they'll still feel guilty that they couldn't protect us from this.

"Thirteen is a very stressful age," my mom agreed. "And even if last week was an isolated incident that won't happen again, you could probably still use someone to talk to. And if Dr. Greyfield says that you don't, well then it was only one afternoon and better safe than sorry, right?"

"One afternoon or not, this isn't even necessary!" I insisted. "I'm absolutely fine."

My parents exchanged another Look.

"I wish that I could believe that, Jake, I really do," my mom said earnestly. "And maybe if Dr. Greyfield tells us you are, I'll be able to."

"Why don't you believe me?" I demanded.

"Jake…your brother might not have put it very tactfully but he is right," my dad admitted. "Saturday morning you were just fine and then when you came home that night you…I don't even know how to describe it."

So maybe Ax didn't do a perfect job of pretending to be me. Given that he's only been with us for a few weeks and hasn't had much experience with a human morphs, I'd say that he did fairly well. We might want to make sure to give him some more practice in the future so that in case – God forbid – this sort of thing were to happen again, he could do a more convincing job. Or maybe if part of it was on the weekend or another day we didn't have school, we could claim that whoever was infested was just staying the night at someone else's house. Though they probably shouldn't by this point, we all have parents that trust us and don't bother to call to make absolutely sure we actually are where we say we're going to be. Good thing, too, because if we didn't then that would make this whole thing a lot harder.

"Crazed," Tom suggested.

"You really scared us, Jake," my mom said softly. "And then on Tuesday you were completely fine. You really haven't explained what happened and what if it happens again? We're just worried about you."

When they put it that way, I couldn't blame them. Even though it was hardly my fault, I still felt guilty for putting them through that…and rather concerned that they realized that 'I' was acting weird from Saturday to Tuesday, three days. Maybe Ax should have pretended to be me for a little longer so it wasn't quite so clearly three days? Then again, Tom didn't seem to find that odd, not that he would tell me if he did.

"There's nothing to say," I said a little lamely. "I was just feeling a little weird and now I'm fine."

"We're all very grateful for that, Jake," my dad said. "But that's really not very much to go on. What if you feel 'a little weird' again? You say you're fine and you look fine but we would just feel a lot more comfortable if Dr. Greyfield had a look at you and could give us his expert opinion. You're going whether you like it or not but we would prefer that you be cooperative and don't fight Dr. Greyfield so that he can do his job."

"Yeah, if you sulk the whole time then that psychiatrist might decide that that means you need him," Tom added.

That was actually good advice. As much as pretending to be open and friendly might annoy me, not doing so could convince him that I was antisocial or something. And since Dr. Greyfield had probably dealt with a lot of people who hadn't wanted to be there, I very much doubted that I could be so obnoxious that he wouldn't want anything more to do with me. And if he did decide that then I don't think I'd get away with a 'oh, he's fine' but rather a referral to someone else. No, the best thing to do was to go and try to act as sane as I possibly could and hope that he didn't pick up on the fact that I was incredibly stressed, going through some major life changes, and really did need someone to talk to.

My parents were still watching me for my reaction.

"I…I know that I'm fine," I said finally. "But I understand what you guys are talking about and so I guess I'll go if it makes you guys feel better."

"That's all we ask," my mom said with a hopeful smile.

Having to go to a psychiatrist is better than the alternative, having to go to a psychiatrist is better than the alternative…

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