44 How to shatter trust

It was the middle of the night. Marco had been away from Earth for so long that his internal clock gave him no clues whatsoever concerning whether or not it was time for day or time for night, but the tiredness he felt assured him that it was the middle of the night, and he would do well to sleep.

Still, groggily, he was slowly – and completely against his will – waking up.

Someone was rapping loudly on his door. "Knock knock, I know you're in there," Jeanne's voice called.

Marco turned over, hid his head beneath the pillow, and called back: "Yep, but beside the 'please knock' sign there is a 'do not disturb' sign."

"There is? I don't see it."

Marco stuffed the pillow back into its usual corner and thumped his head down on it, closing his eyes in frustration. "It's on vacation."

"Well then, too bad for you," said Jeanne pleasantly.

"Memo to self," muttered Marco, "hire new 'do not disturb' sign."

"I'm coming in," Jeanne announced. The door opened, and she did as she had warned of. Worse, though: she sent Tom on ahead.

The beast easily placed his paws on the edge of Marco's bunk – a top bunk – and glared at him, baring his teeth silently. Marco flew up to a sitting position and pulled back. When Jeanne withdrew the kii-raja, he was quick to escape the confined corner of his bunk and take a few hasty steps away. Already being dressed and ready for work – he had gone to bed feeling too lazy to do anything but fall onto his blankets and fall asleep – he started for the bridge.

"You really should get a leash for that thing," he muttered, passing his doorway with Jeanne and the kii-raja right at his heels.

"A leash? No, he wouldn't like a leash. Would you, Tom?" And she rubbed the beast's ears, smiling.

They reached the bridge. Marco rolled his eyes, and threw out an arm towards the two. "Behold, the universe's most spoiled kii-raja."

"Spoiled?" scoffed Jeanne, glaring up at the Animorph. "But anyway, Marco, a leash wouldn't do much good. He pulls, I fly. And I'll have a hard time crying 'Tom, no!' while flying."

"You know," mused Jake, from where he stood at the consoles, "she does have a point."

"Point or no point, keep that thing out of my face."

"You mean 'keep it out of my face, please'?" Jeanne corrected.

"Whatever. Why did you wake me?"

"My turn to sleep," Jeanne said.

"That's all?"

"Yes," Jeanne confirmed, grabbing a sweatshirt she had left hanging over a console, to take with her. "Good night."

Marco grumbled, and glared at Jake. "Why does she get to sleep?"

"For unlike some people who drool and snore, she is perfectly adorable when she's asleep," Jake replied, his tone remarkably sober.

"You're not serious."

"Actually, I am. Haven't you noticed?"

"I have a feeling that if I try to find out, I'll have Tom at my throat. Have you heard the growls when Tom thinks you're committing some kind of crime – like walking past part too close? Damn Tobias for taking Tom's place with Rachel."

Jake gave him a studying look. "As part of your plan."

"Tobias's plan, actually. And I never said it was perfect."

Carali was kept in what he could only call a steel pit. It was cylindrical in shape, with a single closed door (there was a steep, almost vertical path leading upwards outside it), and the only light and air came from the slight gap between the top of the walls and the roof, at least half a dozen tail-lengths over Carali's head. Even as they left him in this impossible pit, the Kelbrid had fitted him with heavy chains, beneath which he only wanted to sit down, but he feared that if he did, he would not be able to rise.

The soil was moist beneath his hooves, offering water, but he soon grew hungry. He was tense from being a prisoner, unable to relax yet too weary to pace. Frightened, yet for the moment... he simply did not have the energy to care. Exhaustion made him drift in and out of sleep, and if not for the gradual decrease in light coming in from outside he would have had difficulties keeping track of time.

He forgot his discomforts as Minalea was roughly shoved in through the door of the pit. She stumbled and fell onto the floor with a soft cry, and the thud of metal striking soil. Unable to help her, Carali only knelt beside her as she struggled to sit.

#Don't be mad,# she pleaded. #I...#

#You failed.#

Minalea only looked at him helplessly.

#Why would I be mad?# Carali questioned quietly. #I'm only happy to see you. Still alive.# He had formulated the words from mere kindness, but found them true as he spoke them. #What happened?#

#I broke away easily,# Minalea told him with a flicker of pride. #I acquired the Kelbrid holding me, to daze him, and knocked him out with my tail-blade. #He never even saw me leave. He probably woke up wondering what had happened. I ran. But as soon as I thought I was out of Kelbrid reach...#

#They caught you.#

#No. Almost, though, for I nearly ran straight into them. I found a park of Andalite fighters. An entire field filled with them. And they all looked unharmed. They must be stolen, from our Fleet. The guards didn't notice me, fortunately. I snuck past them easily... two humans, playing some game with paper cards. I made my way to the middle of the park, and stole a fighter. I thought no-one noticed – I had it on silent running, and those two humans were too focused on their game to see me.#

#You were in an Andalite fighter, and you didn't simply leave?# Carali exclaimed.

Minalea almost looked grumpy. #I promised I'd return to you, didn't I?#

#Foolish. You should have left!#

#I don't want to leave any of my friends to the Yeerks, Carali,# Minalea informed him tartly. #Not even you.# She blinked. #Perhaps... especially not you.#

Carali stared at her. Gradually, her expression softened, and Carali leaned forwards to place his forehead against hers. She averted her eyes down, away from him, but as he touched a stalk against hers, she met his eyes again. #I'm grateful,# Carali told her.

#But?#

#But you should have left.#

#Why? I don't want to stay, and be infested, but I don't want to see you infested, either, Carali. I couldn't face that.#

#I'll kill us both before I let them infest us!# Carali declared vehemently.

Minalea's eyes glittered with a pale smile. In that, she doubted him. #Would you really?#

#I... don't want to have the opportunity to find out.# He sighed. So you didn't leave. What happened?#

#I landed the fighter in a safe place, not far from where I had found it. I found a morph... some small animal... and began snooping around this camp, trying to figure out a way to free you. And that's when they caught me. One of their kii-rajas suddenly decided I wasn't as innocent as I appeared.#

#You could have stayed in morph.#

#Then they would have let the kii-raja kill me. I thought it was better to be alive and captured again, than dead. It's hard to escape once you're dead.#

#Rather dead than infested, though,# Carali said darkly.

#I'm not infested yet,# Minalea told him. #And I don't mean to be. Besides, on that front, good news. It seems the Kelbrid and Yeerks are arguing about something at the moment. Something about the Kelbrid on duty in the atmosphere not noticing how one of the Yeerks' Andalite fighters was stolen.# She lay down on her side, twisting her arms and upper body and tail in near-impossible angles, straining against her fetters. #Until they've solved it, I doubt the Kelbrid are going to hand us over to anyone.#

Carali frowned at her. #What are you doing, Minalea?#

#Getting out of these chains.#

#You can do that?#

She stopped twisting and smiled at him. #I've been arrested a few times – on the Home World. If I can get out of those shackles, I should be able to get out of these amateurish things.#

#You've been arrested?# Carali said flatly.

#Once or twice.# She leaned her head to the side. #If you don't count all the other times.#

#For what?#

#Mostly Gatherings that went out of hand...# Minalea replied evasively. She returned her attention to the chains, scowling. #Now stop distracting me.#

#Sorry. I just can't believe they let you into the Academy after that.#

#What can I say? The Fleet's gone desperate.# She turned serious as she continued; #Actually, they sent me hoping the Academy could teach me discipline.#

#And Larynia and Olana?#

#Larynia went voluntarily – she wants to be a warrior, like her brothers. Olana went because we did – and to get away from home. Her family is not exactly exemplary.# Just then, Minalea shed her shackles, and looked at Carali with a triumphant expression. #See. Now what did I tell you?#

She wriggled free from the last of the fetters, and immediately helped Carali free from his.

#Now... how to get out of this pit?# she asked herself, beginning to look around. Her face lit up almost at once. #Do you have a really small morph, Carali? One that flies?#

#No. Only the kafit and djabala they supplied for the tests.#

#So you have no morph able to crawl out beneath that roof?#

Carali glanced at the crack between the roof and the tall walls, and then sighed. #No. I was told not to acquire anything for my own amusement. I follow orders.#

#I do not,# Minalea told him bluntly. #And it's helped me again. I have a kirum morph. I can slither out, and then fly to safety. Let's see those kii-rajas catch me then!#

#If you can, then leave,# he said, eyes shining. #Quickly.#

The look she gave him in return was almost accusatory. #And what about you?#

#I'll be... fine.#

#No, you won't. You'll either be infested, or you'll kill yourself to avoid it.#

#Better just me than both of us.#

#Nonsense. They'll never manage to infest us. You said you'd kill us before you let that happen. Personally, I prefer thinking we'll simply escape before that, but if you want to be melodramatic, then go right ahead.#

#Even if they don't infest us...# Carali sighed heavily. #Let's say they don't. Yet. But, Minalea; think. Put yourself in the enemy's place. You've captured two. Not one prisoner, but two. How many do you need for questioning?#

Minalea searched out the glint of his eyes in the darkness and locked her gaze into them, her mind remembering the exact brilliant shade of green they were. Remembering... how could she forget? #Theoretically... one.#

#Correct. That means you have one to spare. If you aren't much for charity – as I suspect the Kelbrid aren't – letting one live and be of no use is not an option. Remember our anti-espionage lessons – what options are there?#

#Anti-espionage lessons?#

#You did go to them, didn't you?#

#Well... sometimes. If I was tired. It was a great place to sleep. Old Prince Camroth's voice was very soothing.#

Carali looked outraged. #Did you ever do anything else than sleep during your schooling? Aside from getting into trouble?#

#Not often,# she admitted.

#However you passed the Academy is beyond me.#

Minalea's eyes glittered in amusement. #I cheated. How else?#

#Bad Minalea,# Carali muttered.

She cupped a hand over his cheek. #If I hadn't, I'd never have met you.#

#And you'd never have been in this pit, either,# Carali pointed out, closing his main eyes and leaning into her hand. His stalks kept watching her. #You should leave while you have the chance.#

#Not without you.#

#Minalea, do not act like a silly youngster in love!#

#But that's what I am, Carali.#

#You are also an aristh in the Andalite Fleet.#

#A bad one.#

#Just because you never went to anti-espionage lessons...# he sighed, interrupting himself. #No matter. Back to the relevant topic.#

#Which is?#

#Spare prisoners.#

Minalea flicked her tail nonchalantly to the side. #Kill them, turn them over to your allies, use them to bargain with, or use them... to make sure other prisoners talk.#

Carali stared deep into her eyes, watching as realization dawned on her. She grew slightly pale, but that was hidden by the darkness.

#Kelbrid do not kill or torture children,# Minalea pointed out, something desperate and stubborn appearing in her expression.

#From the way we acted yesterday, they're unlikely to think us children,# Carali countered. #Minalea?#

#Yes?#

It had never been so hard to cover his face with the aristh calm, and it took him some time to succeed. #Do you want to betray the others? Betray Olana's Cava'ara-particle emitter? Or the human... Prince Jake... and his soldiers? Captain Kandion, the Daybreak? Or Arnaha?#

#They know of Prince Jake, the Daybreak, and Arnaha already.#

#That's beside the point, Minalea. Do you wish to see them all betrayed?#

#No. No... of course not. But, Carali –#

#If you do not leave, they will be.# It was almost a threat.

Minalea blinked at him, uncomprehending, wondering at the harsh, thick tone of his voice.

Carali twisted in his shackles, inching closer to her and leaning his forehead against hers. #I truly wish I had met you on the Home World,# he whispered. #Somewhere safe. Somewhere I could touch your face, and not wonder whether I would ever do so again. I truly wish... no matter. Wishes never caught the kifat. Minalea, you must leave, for they will question one of us, and... and if they do, the other will be... used as a hostage, of sorts. I can deal with my own pain. I... I think I can. But I would say anything to spare you. I...# His voice fell away, he closed his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths, and finally continued quietly; #I would tell them anything, everything. I'd tell them everything from my little brother's favourite colour, to the last detail of the Home World's defences. But... I do not wish to. Please leave, Minalea...#

#Carali...#

#My love, PLEASE.#

Minalea's hearts felt like they would burst. #But how do you expect me to leave after you use that word?#

Rachel had set the Rachel's bearings for Cava'ara, and in another day the effects of the Cava'aran sun set in on Santorelli's Yeerk. When the Yeerk died, Santorelli – who for his last few moments as a Controller had been lying on the floor, clawing weakly at the force field in a final, vain attempt at escape – wordlessly sat up, on his knees, and stared silently at his hands, lying palm-up on his lap.

Jake was asleep, but both Jeanne and Marco were present on the bridge. Jeanne sat down, also on her knees, in front of Santorelli, on the outside of the force field. Tom lay at the back of the bridge as he had been commanded, observing suspiciously, while Marco hunched down beside her. They both watched their recently freed friend intently.

"That," Santorelli whispered finally, "was awful."

"Get this force field down," Jeanne told Marco, who nodded and headed for the closest console.

"It was..." Santorelli went on, but paused in mid-sentence and stared out into space.

"Awful," offered Jeanne. With the force field now gone, she reached out to Santorelli and cupped a hand around his cheek. "Look at me. And listen. It's gone now. It's over."

But Santorelli shook his head, very slowly, and retreated from Jeanne's touch. "It's not over until the war is over. Until all the Yeerks are dead. Until..." From vehement, his face turned blank, and then fearful. "I might still... another Yeerk..."

"No, Santorelli," Marco said. "It isn't over yet, you're right. But infestations... we'll not let that happen."

"Like you didn't let the first one happen?"

"That's unfair, and you know it," Jeanne murmured.

Marco made a helpless shrug. "Look, if this spooked you, we could always... well, you could –"

"'Spooked'?" echoed Santorelli. "You... you've never been infested. Neither of you. You don't know what you're talking about. You can just... just..."

Marco looked grim. "I never thought coming through the war uninfested would make me feel guilty. Congratulations, that was a nice one. Jeanne, I'm going to wake Jake. Let him deal with this. Clearly there's some club here I'm not allowed to join, but Jake has been infested." Marco spun around with the obvious intent of stalking away.

"So have I," Jeanne said.

Marco stopped dead – he turned to Jeanne: she sat still as a statue, he back very straight, and her eyes were fixed on Santorelli.

Santorelli did not reply her. Marco did. "What did you just say?" he demanded softly.

"It doesn't help," Jeanne murmured, speaking to Santorelli, ignoring Marco. Tom, sensing her mood, came up beside her, dropping to the floor at her side and resting his head comfortingly on her lap. "Whatever you do, or hear, or say, it doesn't help. You can't change the past. You can't change what you've been through, what you've felt, what you've..." she took a deep breath "...what you've done. Even if you truly weren't the one doing it. Nothing helps. All you can do is... move on. You don't forget. But you survive. Even if you don't want to, always... you survive. And that's all there is to it." She stroked Tom's ears absentmindedly. "But it never goes away."

"What happened to you?" wondered Santorelli.

"I'll tell you some other time," Jeanne promised. "I don't want to talk about it. I... suspect you don't want to hear about it."

"You're not afraid? Of..." Santorelli studied her.

"Being reinfested?" Jeanne shook her head. "Whatever they do, they can't do any worse than they already have. Besides, what good would it do to be afraid? My father used to say that there's only one way to face your fears... eye to eye. Head on."

Santorelli shuddered, and glanced away, uncomfortable. "I... just don't want..."

"Then make sure you're not infested a second time," Jeanne advised. "Stay sharp."

"What if... what if that's –"

"Don't let fear hold you. Being afraid is simple. But now and then, we can't afford to be frightened. We need to rise above it. Or simply try to forget it." She stood, and reached down a hand to Santorelli. "Come on. Let's get you lunch."

Santorelli hesitated, but then took her hand. She pulled him to his feet and led him away from the bridge. Tom followed at her heels.

Marco watched them go in silence. He had a feeling there was something Jeanne had not told them – and he had a feeling it was important.

For while Santorelli might have developed a fear for Yeerks just recently, which could affect his performance in the future, Jeanne had clearly buried hers. Marco was wondering what was buried, and how deep ... and when it would come out.

Cassie's third day in the small Yeerk pool area began as uninteresting as the others. She sat with her back against the wall, watching the erratic comings and goings of the many voluntary Controllers, and looking for familiar faces. She had learned to recognize Ythram's host, certainly, but also believed she could identify three of the morphable hosts – the ones who were the most dangerous. She hated seeing the trapped Hork-Bajir, and was determined to somehow save them, free them.

As soon as she found a way to free herself.

It was late afternoon by the time another familiar face walked in through the doorway she had come to think of as the exit, and Cassie was swarmed with a mixture of surprise, despair, and rage.

It was Ronnie Chambers. Her own kind-hearted, sweet and reliable Ronnie Chambers, who she trusted, and loved.

She could not believe it.

He did not see her at first, continuing towards the pool with hurried steps. Apparently the Yeerk was hungry. He knelt at the end of the pier, and Cassie could see all to well how the Yeerk left his ear, disappearing into the sludgy waters.

Ronnie straightened, scratched his ear vigorously, and went to make a note in the computer by the pool.

Cassie, having sat silent and motionless, unable to speak, found her voice. "Ronnie," she called, not at all surprised to hear the pain in her speech.

Ronnie jumped, startled, and looked up. "Cassie!" he exclaimed. "But – you're – you're..." His face fell. "You're here."

"So are you," Cassie commented, brittle ice in her tone. "Why?"

Ronnie, glancing around, came closer to Cassie's cage. "I'll speak to them. I'll make them let you go."

"They won't let me go," Cassie replied, astonished at the frankness, the naivety, of Ronnie's words. "Why would they let me go, now that they've finally caught me? I'm too valuable to let go, and too dangerous."

"They're not our enemies, Cass, they're –"

"They're my enemies. You know that! And you – you –" Cassie drew a quivering breath. "You worked with them. You just let them... let them catch me." Her eyes brimmed with tears: she felt betrayed, and confused, and heartbroken. "You could have warned me."

"Cass, it wasn't like that – I – I didn't know –"

"What do you mean, you didn't know? Don't lie to me, Ronnie Chambers! Don't you dare! I should –" But Cassie could not find it in her to threaten him. This was who she had grown to love when the war was over, when Jake had retreated into himself. This was who she had slept and woken beside for over a year. This... this was Ronnie, who she shared her work with, her fears and dreams, her days and nights. And all along...

It was impossible. "We've been on hikes lasting longer than three days," she said softly.

"My Yeerk wasn't with me then," Ronnie told her. He, too, was tear-eyed. "Cassie, I swear, I had no idea they would –"

"You must have heard of their plan to leave Earth. How could you miss it?"

"Yes, but I never thought they'd..."

"What?"

"I never thought they'd harm you... I swear, I wouldn't have stayed with them if I did. I thought –"

"You joined the Yeerks." She spoke it as a fact, trying to digest it.

"But – but they swore, they swore when I joined them, that they were peaceful. And I missed... Imrath, my Yeerk, from the war. You know I was infested during the war, don't you?"

"You said so. You said you weren't voluntary."

Ronnie looked despairing. "What was I to tell an Animorph, Cass? That I liked the Yeerks? I didn't tell you everything – but it was partly true. I wasn't voluntary. To begin with. Imrath made me voluntary. He was... he was of the Peace Movement. He – he's dead. And when an old controller friend of mine told me of these refugee Yeerks... they claimed they'd harm no-one. They just wanted to exist, to survive. Many of them were former Peace Movement agents. They swore to me they'd do nothing to harm anyone."

Cassie stared at him. "And you believed them?"

"I – yes, I did."

Rage, hate, and love warred within Cassie, and she could not decide if she hated him for being a fool, or if she loved him and hated herself for that. She had never felt so hurt in her life.

Ronnie's palms were pressed against the force field – she put her own on the force field's other side, leaning her forehead in between them. Ronnie brought his own face closer, murmuring something about being sorry, and he didn't mean to, and it wasn't supposed to be like this, and... and Cassie forced herself to stop listening to him. She searched for a core of rage inside her, a core she had seldom turned to, and immersed herself in it – before sorrow could overwhelm her. She took a deep breath, and looked at Ronnie. She had found him handsome, before. The worst part was that she still did. But that did not matter any more. Nothing mattered. The rage was not strong, but it was strong enough. "You had a Yeerk in your head – you didn't tell me. You didn't do anything to stop the murders and abductions of the Hork-Bajir. You didn't warn me when they planned to kidnap me. I don't care if you said you didn't know – in that case, you were blind. It all makes you the enemy, Ronnie. I... never... want to see... you... again. Do you hear me?"

Ronnie drew back from her suddenly vicious expression. "Cassie..."

"LEAVE ME!" roared Cassie at the top of her lungs, and Ronnie staggered back. "Go back to your Yeerk, you... you..." Cassie shook herself, not finding any word fit to describe what she felt, and simply turned her back to her former lover. "Just..." She shuddered.

Ronnie was a simple character: manly and confident, charming, but uncomplicated and kind to a fault. That was why she had loved him. His kindness towards her, towards everyone, clearly extended too far... to Yeerks. Cassie knew there were Yeerks who deserved kindness. Perhaps this Imrath had been one of them. But for Cassie's part, she found no reason to meet any of the Yeerks in the compound around her with kindness.

Perhaps Ronnie was telling the truth: perhaps he had known nothing of her impending capture, and the Yeerks' plan to escape. In either case, witting or unwitting, he had served as a spy on her, a source of information, and if he had seen it as innocent, or not seen it at all, he was still a naïve fool.

He had still betrayed her beyond her wildest imaginations.

She sank down in a far corner of her cage to weep.

"Animorph."

Cassie jerked her head up. Ythram and his host were standing outside the force field. There was a fresh tray of food just inside it.

"I see you've met your boyfriend. Although I guess he's not your boyfriend any more."

Cassie did not reply.

"If it makes any difference, he was telling the truth. We simply... neglected to inform him about this."

"He knew about the Hork-Bajir. That's bad enough. How..."

"How could he allow it?" Ythram laughed softly. "Well, it wasn't easy, but Turju, his Yeerk, is brilliant at explanations. Reasons. Basically, the Hork-Bajir are here for our protection. A small evil to avoid a greater one. And we've left plenty of them in the valley. Plus, we only let him find out about it recently... when it was too late. Even if he walks free now and again, what was he to do? Betray us, reveal himself as a Controller, and claim he had no part in it? Not likely. Leave us? Not likely, either. That'd be a security risk... he knows the rules. Once in, you're in for life. All our human hosts agreed to it when they joined us."

"You only have voluntary hosts?"

"Yes. Involuntary hosts are so troublesome, and we don't have... the resources to handle them. Or the patience."

"What about the Hork-Bajir?"

"The Hork-Bajir are necessary," Ythram explained. "They're our warriors... a bit of trouble in handling them is worth it. But all our humans are voluntary."

"A former voluntary Controller attempted to murder me not long ago," Cassie said. "Was that you?"

Ythram shook his host's head. "Not us, no. He was one of us, yes, but he was not acting for us. We had no interest in killing you."

"Then why did he?"

"He wanted us to stay on Earth. He knew about our plans, our plans to leave, and decided to try to stop us. He was operating along the lines of 'we can't kidnap you if you're dead'."

"And?"

"And that was about the height of his brain capacity. He wasn't much of a loss." Ythram's expression turned to something which, on a kinder face, would have been a smile. "And I must say, for your part, neither is Mr Chambers."

Jeanne returned to the bridge alone, almost at the end of Marco's shift. She looked tired. "I've left him in his quarters," she said. "To sleep. I doubt he'll sleep well. But he ate properly, at least."

Marco watched her walk up to a console, and watched her draw up life support values from the ship on a holographic screen, to study them. He watched how her eyes glazed over, and how she was staring straight through the hologram. She was standing all too still, and her hands were clenched where they lay on the console.

Finally, she sighed, and said: "We're low on fresh water. Apparently the Yeerks did not fill it up properly when they repaired the ship."

"Jeanne."

"Yes?" it was almost a whisper.

"You don't look like you care about the water. At all." Marco was sitting cross-legged on another console, having been playing Doom on a lavishly large hologram screen. There was no reply from Jeanne, so he went on: "You said you'd been infested. Tell me about it."

"There's little to tell."

"You're lying."

"I don't –"

"...want to talk about it," Marco finished for her. "Jeanne, I've been thinking. I'm beginning to lose track of how long we've been travelling together. And I wonder... what do I know of you from before you ended up here?"

"I was with the French –"

"A trainee in some French secret service, I know. But aside from that? That's a job, Jeanne, not a person."

Jeanne drew a deep breath and turned towards him, her face unreadable. "I like to keep people at a certain distance."

"Clearly. Which is why you're so fond of Tom, I presume. No, really, Jeanne. You've been infested. Is there something about that we should know about? Some gruesome past that could come back to haunt you – haunt us all – at the wrong time?" He grimaced. "Ouch, that was blunt. Even for me."

Jeanne's expression grew stony with anger. "I've come to terms with my infestation, thank you very much. I prefer not to dwell on it. It's not a pretty tale."

"Come on. Humour me."

Jeanne opened her mouth to speak, but then bit back her own words. She spun back towards the holographic screen, making a show of studying it, but she must have known herself how badly she was succeeding, for she lowered her gaze from it with a heavy sigh, and slowly looked back towards Marco.

"If there's anything in your past," Marco said, not sure exactly where his voice landed between detached and sympathetic, "anything at all, that might affect you, then we need to know about it. If you don't want to tell me, then tell Jake."

Jeanne closed her eyes, but then opened them and met Marco's gaze, nodding, as if to herself. "Fine. My mother died in sudden cancer when I was nine. My little sister, Lana, was one and a half. My father was devastated. We moved from a small town in southern France, to Paris. I grew up, acting as much mother to Lana as daughter to my father. I graduated. I was accepted into the Deuxième Bureau, as a trainee. My father worked for them, and he was so proud of me. Half a year later, my entire class was infested. Two years after that..."

She paused, and Marco could think of nothing to say which would not sound bad: he simply waited.

"Have you ever stopped by the supermarket on the way home?" Jeanne wondered. "Ever stopped by the supermarket after a normal day, without knowing why, and bought a pair of rubber gloves? The same kind that you might find in your cleaning closet. You open the packaging and throw it into a nearby trash can outside the store. You arrive home, and you pull on your new gloves. You greet your father in the kitchen. He turns his back, for a moment, and you grab the frying pan from the stove, and beat him over the back of his head. He collapses, so quietly, so... easily. You return the frying pan to the stove and bend down to make sure he's dead. And then you walk down the corridor. You're whistling to yourself, a favourite tune. You reach your sister's room. And..."

Jeanne's voice was calm and rational, but Marco felt the ice prickling his neck. She had clearly gone through this before, in her mind, again and again, and she spoke as if she was reading from a book. It was unnerving.

"My Yeerk did it just to spite me. His assignment had been to kill my father. He killed my sister just because he knew I loved her. She was twelve. She was... so small. She was dozing, a book lying open on the pillow beside her. She woke with my hands around her throat..." Jeanne lifted her hands. "These hands. Around her throat." She blinked, for the first time since she had begun speaking, still appearing very calm. "Have you ever done that?"

"No," rasped Marco. "I haven't."

"If you had, you wouldn't want to talk about it. You wouldn't want to remember it. And you wouldn't want people too close. My Yeerk said that there was nothing I could love, that he couldn't take away. He was right. So I ended up loving nothing at all. It's a difficult habit to break. Oh, and Marco?"

"Yes?"

"If you're thinking about offering me a shoulder to cry on, then forget it. I've cried enough. And I don't need your pity." Turning away from him, she added over her shoulder: "Go wake Jake. Your shift is over."

Marco rose, and headed toward the sleeping quarters. "I'm sorry I made you tell me that," he offered, not looking at her.

Jeanne's voice, up until then so calm and composed, broke at that moment. "Just... go."

Author's Note:

Recieved a wonderful review not long ago that inspired me to write, write, write. It also inspired me to think more about Jeanne's character, since the review told me it hadn't been properly developed, and I sat down to consider and realised it was true. So here's Jeanne, everyone. Poor soul. I must have been feeling angsty when I thought it up. In any case, yes, she is very much a copy of Rachel. Rachel was a sort of idol to Jeanne, especially since she began working for Jake. Find a role in a group as famous as the Animorphs..? A nervy situation, to say the least. Why not adopt one left open? She's probably not aware of it herself... although the role has, by my pen,suited Jeanne rather well.

Two questions on canon-ness, then. I can't remember any time Marco was infested. I'm unfortunately too lazy to re-read all the books and find out. If anyone can think of a time he was infested, then tell me. Second question: what eye-colour does Jake have?