Author's Note: I'd like everyone to please take note, before reading, that there are some things from Andalite Chronicles that are changed in this story because otherwise, well, I wouldn't have a story. Yes, I will explain Melissa's "talent". Oh, and our other main character will have his own chapter full of explanation.
Just bear with me and enjoy the fic!
Timeline Note Takes place sometime in between #23 and #45.

Awakening
One - Realization

My name is Melissa Chapman. I'm a freak of nature.

To tell you the truth, I'm still not sure what caused it. But I wish it had never happened. I wish I never knew.
I could have lived with it, I'm sure. I'd been living with my parents forgetting I existed for about four years now.
Two more years until I left the house. Yes, I could have put up with workaholic parents.
Hell, I could have even put up with losing Rachel. I didn't, and still don't, know why she started pulling away. It just seemed like one day she was normal Rach and then the next, something changed. It was like she had bigger things on her mind. Bigger things there was no way I could relate to. So we lost touch, but I could have put up with that too. I could have endured all of that, you know.

But I don't know how I'm going to cope with this.

I'm not the kind of person who believes in little green men, but come on and take a look at our solar system and tell me there isn't life on other planets! It's just that I never expected aliens to be like this. I mean, what kind of twisted freak would think this is real? Besides conspiracy nuts, that is. Not me, that's for certain...or at least not the old me. Not the Melissa who sat her room crying to her cat because her parents didn't love her and her best friend had changed into someone she couldn't even talk to anymore. I'm not really any different now, I guess, except that now I spend my nights crying because I know why my parents don't love me anymore, and I've got my guesses on why Rach started being so distant.
I guess you're wondering what I'm blabbering on about. Well, if you can sit down, do it. I'm about to tell you something you are not going to like.

Think about your family and your friends. Think about how much you love them, how much you trust them. Think about all the happy times you've shared together. Now think about this: what if they weren't the people you thought they were? What if, for no reason at all, they started to change into someone else? It's happening day after day, week after week and year after year across the globe. And you want to know why? Because they aren't your friends and family, not anymore. They are slaves inside their own heads. Slaves to a race of slugs known as the Yeerks. The Yeerks are nothing more than blind gray slugs in the natural state. The Yeerks, lucky them, have the ability to wrap around your mind and get into every little crevice. Your body is now theirs and you have no say about it, but even worse is that you're still conscious and get to see this Yeerk use your body to convince all of those other people you love to become one of them. Isn't that special?
Why doesn't anyone try to stop this? Because the cops are Yeerks. Because the President might even be a Yeerk! And you know what? You have no idea. You don't know if your dad is just spending a little too much time at the office or if he's not even really him anymore. There is no way to be sure.
But I know that's it. My parents are not my parents anymore. They're Yeerks. At first I thought that maybe they were having marriage problems. My Mom loved me with all her heart, but I'm not her daughter as far as my genes go.
I have never met my biological mother and Dad doesn't talk about her all that much. She just up and left before I was even one year old. Dad said he was glad to be rid of her. She was too goody-goody for his tastes and way too stubborn. I find it kind of ironic that such a goody-two-shoes would just leave like that, but it is easy to tell she and Dad couldn't have ever gotten along. Dad's a hard-broiled cynic. So at first I thought Mom and Dad were having some kind of problem with Dad's past. The only problem with my theory was that it was a very silent little fight between them, and my parents know how to scream. So I figured out what their problem was -- me.
For about four years now I was blaming myself for my parents' actions. Dad and Mom were always out of the house on "work" and never spent any time with me anymore. They never even hugged me like they used to.
I would have gone on thinking that if weren't for my freakiness.

Mister Trent was a friend of my dad's, and he was a big donator to The Sharing. Dad had started his work with The Sharing four years ago. I guess it was about the time that he'd become a Yeerk. I had never met Mr. Trent in person but Dad would talk about him tons. Babble on and on about what a great, upstanding man he was. Mom, who had met the all-wonderful Mr. Trent, would glow about him too. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought they were in love with him! But Mister Trent never figured that much into my life. He was a part of my parents' now Melissa-less world. Besides, it wasn't as if I would ever seen Mr. Trent face-to-face. I was the shameful kid; the one who they'd stopped loving. Why would they ever want their amazing Mr. Trent to see me?
So I never thought much about Mister Trent and I didn't care to. He was just a reminder of my parents' rejection.

I remember that I was stressed before I even got home that day. Maybe it was the stress that caused it to trigger?
It had been a hard day and not one of my best at all. Mrs. Hanna, who is evil incarnate, just so know; had given me a huge fat ten on our three-weeks test for geography. I'd fallen off the balance beam at gymnastics practice. During the rides to and from practice Mom hadn't said a word to me. So it was already a pisser-offer of a day.
Little was I to know the turn events were going to take. When we got home, I headed upstairs to throw myself on my bed and get a little sleep. It was something I did everyday. Back then I must have been...depressed. You know, serious-get-on-meds depressed. If you spend most of your time sleeping, doesn't that mean you're depressed?
Doesn't matter. Not now. Not anymore.
When I got to my room, Mom followed me. What a shocker, huh? Then she told me the news that turned my whole day from bad to unbearable. Fluffer had died; a car hit him.
Fluffer McKitty is my cat. I know it sounds stupid that a cat could make my day horrible, but Fluffer was my only real friend anymore. When I couldn't take my parents neglect anymore I'd always have Fluffer to run up to. When I woke up in the morning, there was Fluffer. He was always purring whenever I woke up. It made me feel good, like at least someone on the planet cared about me. Also, Fluffer was a reminder of better days. My parents had bought him for me when I was a kid. Rachel and I used to play with him all the time. I know it sounds stupid, but I wanted to remember the good times. Even if things were shitty now, I still had memories. That was something.
"He's dead?" I asked Mom. I didn't want to believe it. I refused to believe it.
"Yes." Mom said with an insincerity a five year-old could detect. "I'm so sorry, baby." Then Mom wrapped her arms around me. She was hugging me! It'd been so long, so very long since she'd done that...I started crying, even though her hug felt wrong. I can't explain why, but there was something different with Mom.
She's never called you baby, dorkus. The voice in the back of my head reminded me. Then I broke my hug.
"Mom." I said as I tried to keep my voice calm. "You've never called me baby."
I swear Mom turned white, but only for a second. "Don't be silly, Melissa. Of course I have. You just don't remember." She said in a sickening sugary-sweet voice. A voice I didn't trust at the moment. I stepped back away from my mother. "When?" I asked. My voice was shaking. "When did you call me that?"
The look on my mother's face was so weird. Her right eyebrow twitched as she looked at me with eyes of steel. Those weren't the eyes I remembered on that face. "Last week." She spat out. "Now, why don't you sleep? It's been a long, hard day and the rest will do you good." Then she started pushing me, though not hard, into my room.
I stood still while she dug through my dresser on a mission to find my PJs. It was just like whenever I got sick as a kid. Mom would stand over me, always watching for any cough or teeny-tiny increase in temperature. It was intimidating to a little kid, but I missed it now. After close to three minutes of searching, Mom recovered my green pajamas. She smiled at me as she put them on the bed. "You get dressed and then call me, I'll tuck you in."
So I did just that. And Mom did come and tuck me in, making sure I was comfy and all of that crap.
After that I lay awake in my bed, wondering what was going on with my mother and crying for my dead cat.

It was four hours later when I woke up. I could smell food cooking from the kitchen. Smelt like spaghetti, I thought.
I shook myself out of my PJs and replaced them with Ralph Lauren jeans and a shirt from the Gap. I brushed my thin hair and then went downstairs blinking tears out of my eyes, trying to forget how my cat would've been following me into the kitchen.
Shock and surprise, Dad was cooking. I should have known there was something weird right then. Dad is not the kind of man who cooks. I have my doubts on whether the man can make himself a sandwich. Mom didn't seem to notice which weirded me out even more. Mom's a worrywart by nature; it wasn't like her to not be glancing at the boiling noodles every three seconds to make sure Dad wasn't about to blow up the house.
What in the world had happened to my parents?
I sat down at the table and Mom put a plate of steaming spaghetti in front of face. I picked at my food, still thinking about Fluffer. I missed hearing his purrs already. I felt like such a baby. It made sense, though, that Fluffer would leave me. Everyone else had.
Dinner was shorter than usual, but still as quiet for me. My parents would talk with flourish and animation to each other about their lives. Lives, which I noticed, revolved quite a bit around school, The Sharing, and the Almighty Mr. Trent. They'd do the nice, parental thing and ask me how my day went. That was as far as our conversation went. Adrenaline inducing, huh? In quiet unison we all put our plates in the sink and that was the end of dinner.
I was on my way back upstairs when Dad grabbed me by the wrist. "Melissa, I'd like to talk to you." He said.
Then he took me into the living room and sat me down for a little chat. Woo-hoo. "Melissa," He said with what seemed like a sad look in his eyes, but something about it just wasn't genuine. "I know this has been a tough day for you. We, your mother and I, have been worried about you. Sugarpie, we've been thinking that maybe you need someone to talk to besides your old man and your mother. Now I know I promised you that you didn't have to join The Sharing if you didn't want to, but this is beyond your mother and me. The Sharing might help you, sweetie. "
There it is again, I thought. First Mom calls me baby, and now Dad's starting up with this sugarpie and sweetie stuff. What in the world is going on here?
What happened next rocked my world.
First, Dad's face started to twitch as he said "The Sharing". I don't mean like a normal little face twitch, I mean his face broke out in freaking spasms! That was freaky enough, but then I saw it. The gray slug wrapped around my Dad's brain. The Yeerk's life flashed through my eyes too fast for me to even comprehend. Then I saw my Dad's life flash before my eyes, too. I saw the Yeerk struggling to control my father. I saw Dad fighting against the Yeerk, trying to protect me. Protect me from becoming like him. From becoming a Yeerk. I only had one question.
"Dad, what's a Visser?" I whispered before hitting the carpet.

It was a dream. That's what I told myself when I woke up. I mean, come on, would you believe it? Really?
Reality was about to hit five thousand times harder. Only a few hours after I woke up, too! Oh, goody!
For you slow types out there, I'm being sarcastic. It was a pretty normal day. Dad and I both went to school him in his car and me on the bus. Mom went off to go play bingo and check out the Goodwill not long after we left.
There was no mention of last night.
It was a normal day at school, too. Try to make it look like I was sleeping in my classes (even though I was), attempt to discern what was edible from the school lunch, and attempt beyond hope to strike up conversation between Rachel. A normal, regular day except for the fact that I had something keeping me awake in class.
It couldn't have been real. It wasn't real. It would never be real. I told myself that again and again.
I never believed myself, not deep down. As much as I wanted to forget it and tell myself it wasn't true I knew it was. Have you ever been faced up against a truth you can't deny? If so, you know what I mean. You want to forget it; you want to believe it isn't true more than you've ever wanted anything your life. But you can't change reality.
I had three very hard truths to try and come to grips with that morning. They were:

1.) Earth was under attack by forces we couldn't even see. From the Yeerk's memory, our only hope was a handful of Andalite bandits. I didn't even know what an Andalite was, and I didn't like their chances.
2.) My parents were no longer my parents. I could trust no one.
3.) I was some kind of super-freak. I might not even be human.

So, is it really any surprise I skipped school after fifth period? A girl can only take so much.
There is one perk to being the Vice-Principal's daughter. I know every single way out of this school and almost every way not to get caught, so I was heading to the mall before 12:51. Shopping would do me wonders.
The mall isn't very far from the school but way beyond walking distance. So I hitched myself a bus to our city's epitome of gross capitalism. You know, the mall? The bus driver was a guy in his late-fifties to early-sixties. His hair was graying and his clothes weren't in such great shape either. His eyes, though, were gray and kind. I didn't think there was a slug in that head. The driver didn't seem surprised to see a high-school kid waiting for a ride. I'd bet he takes tons of kids away from the pit each day. To my relief, he didn't ask any questions. Neither did anyone else on the bus, though that might have something to do with the fact that I sat in the very back as far away from the other people as possible. During that whole long boring ride I couldn't help wondering how many of the people sitting in the seats in front of me had Yeerks in their head. How many of them were slaves in their heads?
How many of them would never be free, just like my Mom and Dad? How many people would be taken just today? How many could those Anda-whatevers I'd seen through the Yeerk's memories save? Could they save my parents? Would they even try?
I was stuck so deep in my thoughts that I almost missed the mall. It was only when the bus driver started yelling "Mall!" that I snapped out of it. I thanked the driver for alerting me and then ran my embarrassed ass out of there.

God, I love the mall. It's like my second home. Looking back on things, part of why Rachel and I bonded so easy was the fact that we're both born mallrats -- and proud of it. I can't tell you how many hours the two of us spent window shopping while sipping hot java, even when we were supposed to be too young to drink it.
But everything was different now. I remember just plain sinking down into a chair in the food court as my new reality hit me. The impact of what I knew now sent me into tears. I ran through the food court to the mall bathrooms. Skanky, nasty places they are. But I didn't want anyone to see me crying, and I really didn't want them asking why.
No one was in the gray and dark stalls. Of course, coupled up their ugliness with the stink, and it makes perfect sense. I ran into the last stall and locked it shut. Then I just leaned up against the stall and sobbed until there weren't anymore tears left. When I was done I grabbed a handful of toilet paper and blew my nose. Then, feeling weak as heck, I dragged myself to one of the sinks and washed my red puffy eyes.
My situation was still shit but I did feel better. It had hit me I couldn't go back home, not after ditching. The Yeerks in Mom and Dad's heads must have already caught onto the fact that I knew. No human anywhere was supposed to know. Some of what I had seen in my father's memories had sunken in along with the Yeerk's memories.
Dad had agreed to become a Controller because of me. For his sake I couldn't go back. The Yeerk would have to make me one of them to shut me up. I couldn't, I just couldn't do that my father. Making up my mind, I stormed out of the ugly bathroom to face my frightening new world.
As soon as I got out of the bathroom a body slammed me down to the ground, knocking all the wind out of me.
The body atop me was at least thirty pounds heavier than I was. I am an athlete but it didn't mean I could lift whoever was on me. I started to panic. Who was it? What did they want with me? Why wouldn't they get off me?!
To my shock I saw it again. A different slug than the one in my father's head, but a Yeerk nonetheless. The man on top of me was a mall cop; a guy named T.S. Bruce. He was 24 and had joined The Sharing after a messy breakup with his girlfriend. A few months later Frank had been infested. The Yeerk was Niar 295. It wasn't a high-ranking Yeerk, just a step above a foot soldier. It was a spy for Visser Three. A spy whose main missions was to "quiet" those who knew about the invasion.
"Get your dirty slug ass off of me!" I screamed at T.S./Niar 295, but he/it put T.S.'s hand in front of my mouth, making sure I couldn't be heard. I bit him. "Don't worry, folks!" T.S./Niar 295 shouted. "I'm just taking this notorious shoplifter to the proper authorities!" Proper authorities, my butt. T.S./Niar 295's shouts seemed to have convinced the crowd. Crap. T.S./Niar 295 then pulled out a pair of handcuffs (which, so you know, normal mall cops don't have immediate access to) and cuffed me. I was flailing and kicking but no one clued into the fact that this wasn't a normal thing. They must have all just thought I was a typical teenage delinquent, beyond help.
T.S./Niar 295 dragged me outside of the mall to a white van. I recognized it in an instant. That van belonged to The Sharing! T.S./Niar 295 shoved me into the back seat of the van. Then he/it shut the door and locked it.
I had no way out. T.S./Niar 295 took off one of his/its shoes and shoved his/its dirty sock in my mouth. T.S./Niar 295 then searched through the glove compartment for something. He/It then pulled out some black duck tape. Without any hesitation, he/it taped me up to the seat, first by my arms and then my legs. Not quite comfortable.
On the flipside, though, at least T.S./Niar 295 wasn't looking to do anything more than that. Not that most Yeerks are going to be into that kind of thing. They just don't have the time, thank god.
"Lucky me I found you, human." T.S./Niar 295 said. "Many of my brothers were searching for you. But I will bring you to the Visser! Just think of it, I could finally raise a few ranks!" The Controller sounded so happy.
I had found out that Yeerks were named based on their rank and job through the memories I acquired. It was a functional way of keeping order, I guess, but what about the Yeerk's individuality? Or did they care about those kinds of things? Did a parasite have a sense of their own, separate self? I tried to answer the Yeerk back but it came out as a series of muffled sounds. It didn't care. Instead, we kept on going to wherever T.S./Niar 295 was driving us to. The Sharing building, I suspected. I had never been there. Something about The Sharing had always given me the willies and looking back on it, I didn't like what it had done to my parents. I didn't like the way it had made them abandon me. Why in the world would I join that place? If only I'd known the truth...
You do know the truth now, Mel. The voice in my head reminded me. Now look at you.
The little voice had a point. Now I knew and here I was taped up to a car seat, hostage to a mall cop who was slave to a parasitic slug. Someone tell me how that's any better than being a girl whose only friend was her dead cat?
Well, I knew the reason my life had gone to pot. But was that knowledge worth it?

The van screeched to a halt. T.S./Niar 295 grabbed a pair of scissors out of the van's glove compartment and then went to go get me. Still holding the scissors he opened up my door and then I was cut loose.
Yes, I was still cuffed and gagged. You didn't think the Yeerks would make it easy, did you?
"Here she is, Visser." T.S./Niar 295 said. Then I saw him. He was in the form of Mr. Trent at the time. When I had gotten Iniss 226's memories I had learned about him. Visser Three. The one who was in control of the Yeerk invasion of Earth. He has the form of an Anda-whatever-they-are, which means he can change into the form of whatever animal he desires. That makes dangerous. In reality, miles beyond dangerous.
"Good Work, Niar 295. I will reward you handsomely for this." Visser Three said. The voice made me shake. Jesus, how could any one human voice be made to sound so terrifying? "Let's get her into the shack."
What shack? I wondered as I looked around me. For the first time I realized T.S./Niar 295 had driven me out to a small breakdown shack in the woods. Great. T.S./Niar 295 took me and carried me into the shack behind Visser Three. I felt sick to my stomach. I felt afraid and disgusted with myself. They were going to infest me, I knew it! Dad was going to be so disappointed. Why did I have to be such a freak? I could have stayed free! Dad's sacrifice, the loss of his freedom, was going to mean nothing. Nothing at all! Only because I saw the truth, and I didn't even know why! What was wrong with me?
The shack was as unappealing as it looked from the outside. There was no floor, just a thin covering of dirt.
No furniture, either. Nothing in there except a pool of what looked like dark water. If you looked at it for more than a few seconds, you figured out that wasn't water. Of course, most people don't have the time to look.
Because that "dark water" was Yeerk Pool liquid. Yeerks have to feed on these things called Kandrona Rays every three days. Where the Yeerks get their healthy dose of Kandrona is the Yeerk Pool. It's also where they get to swim in and out of their host's ear canal and get back into the host's mind. Amazing what the memories of two Yeerks can teach you. With a hard, painful thud I hit the dirt. T.S./Niar 295 had thrown me down.
I was inches away from the Pool! "If I'd known you were so talented, I'd have had you infested sooner. Your talents are far more valuable than one well-positioned human-Controller! Why think Niar 295! With one of my best men in the head of this girl, we'll be able to finally capture those cursed Andalite bandits!" The Visser was gloating. It made me sick.
T.S./Niar 295 had taken the liberty of sitting on my legs to make certain I didn't get free. He/It then lifted my head up and closer to the Pool. Right to the very edge. I felt a hot tear crawl down my cheek. Nothing. Dad's sacrifice had meant nothing at all and I was to blame. I remembered a letter right then. I'd gotten it close to a year ago in my locker. I still had no idea who had sent it, but whoever they were, they knew. They had told me my father loved me more than he could show. It was so true. My parents hadn't abandoned me, the Yeerks inside had. They loved me.
And now I was wasting their sacrifice.

A loud roar echoed through the shack. T.S./Niar 295 dropped my head in shock and the Visser almost jumped.
Then with a loud slam a lion fell through the ceiling of the shack. Pardon my French, but how the hell had a lion gotten here?
"Andalite!" Visser Three hissed. So one of the Andalite Bandits had come to save me? Why?
Get on, damn it! The lion said to me as it ran to me. No, I kid you not. The lion talked to me. Needless to say, I got onto his back and hung onto his mane for dear life. We sped through the woods like there was no tomorrow.
After a few minutes of running it looked like we were near the city. "I think we lost them." I said.
Yeah fucking right. the lion replied. Visser Three will catch up to us sooner or later.
I have no problem with people who swear, but this guy (I was assuming, it sounded like a guy) was starting to piss me off with his attitude. "Look, I'm way beyond grateful, but who are you?" I shouted at him. The lion put a paw to his face, telling me to shush. Not a very lion-like action. Don't scream. The lion told me. Before I could ask why, the lion's fur started to melt away. I didn't scream. I bit the hell out of tongue, but I didn't scream.
I won't go into detail because you really don't want to know, but in about two minutes the lion had changed into a boy. A blonde boy with brown eyes wearing a Grateful Dead shirt and orange swim trunks. Horrid taste in clothes, but he was kind of cute. Not that I was noticing that very much at the time. I was more preoccupied with how in the heck had he been the lion that got me out of the shack? The boy smirked at me. He must've found my confusion funny.

"I'm David Sargent." He said.

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