Disclamer: I don't own...please don't sue...

War In Me

Courage is the art of being the only one who knows you're scared to death.

-Harold Wilson

I went to the mall to shop by myself today, something I usually don't do. Well, actually something I usually didn't do. Now it seems I'm on my own alot, apart from whatever mission we're doing. I've slowly lost friends as I've become more involved in this war and seemed now that I didn't have any. Even Cassie and I don't hang out anymore. I guess too much has happend for us to be as close as we once were. Close as friends, that is. I still feel protective of her, I still care for her, I still worry for her in battle, probbaly more than I do the others, except maybe Tobias. The idea of just hanging out, with no actual purpose other than being together and being friends seems...forgien to me now. One afternoon, we decided to study together for a biology exam and for the first time since we've been friends, it seemed we had nothing to say to one another. We both felt it. I know a part of her is disgusted with my bloodthristyness and eagerness to fight just as a part of me is frustrated with her constant fruitless moralizing. It seemed as though those unexpressed feelings, those unsaid words hung right above us like a thick blanket as we sat alone in her room, preventing us to connect in whatver way we used to, the way that made us friends, best friends even. I left that night and wondrered if we'd ever really be friends again.

Even wiith Tobias, I find myself thinking about a mission, thinking about what I did or what I should of done. My time with him used to be...special to me. Something I didn't share with anyone, not even Cassie. Now even with him it seems my mind drifts to the dangereous part of my life, analyzing my actions. I found myself not looking back with fear or disgust or regret, I find myself almost reminissing, longing. I know Cassie still has hope for me. She wouldn't be Cassie if she didn't. I know she hopes for the day that I can overcome this dark thing that has seemed to invade me. More than that, I know she believes that I can. With all her judgment and condemnation she seems to know that I will come through the other side of this and overcome my demons. I can feel her faith in me even as we've grown apart. Me, on the other hand, I'm not so sure. In fact, I'm not sure at all.

Walking inside American Eagle I instantly saw what I had come for; a yellow skirt that I knew would be perfect with a top my dad had got me. Even my as I felt the momentary happiness of purchaing the skirt, which looked absolutly great on me, I felt the sneer of my other half, as I've come to refer to it as. The little voice inside of me that never passes up an opportunity to remind me that I've have no other real joy besides the joy of battle. Yes, I was happy to have the skirt but did it compare to the happiness, no, the pure joy of battling four Hork-Bajir with the power of the grizzly bear and coming out alomost entirly unscathed? Not even close. I couldn't even enjoy a simple pleasure these days without the reminder of what drove me in my life now and how that thing, that killer in me, had nearly eclpised everything else that had once mattered to me.

One night not too long ago I came home after one of our many, nearly deadly missions, high as usual on the adrenaline, trying not to know that a battle like that which would leave most of fellow Animorphs in shock, unable to feel anything but gratefulness that they were alive, made me feel more alive and vibrant than I ever felt. I busted through the door and noticed balloons in the livingroom and a half eaten cake on the kitchen. Of course, my little sister Jordans birthday. She was thirteen, the same age I was when I started this war. Not only had I missed her birthady, I realized I didn't care that I didThere were much more important things that I had to, and no one lese could do them for me. The rational side of me knew of course that those weren't my true feelings, that part of me knew that I would do this even if didnt have to. I walked up to her room and peeked inside. She was asleep with my other sister Sarah next to her. Jordan was getting so old, really growing into a teenager. She looked like me only darker hair, same eyes, same nose, and it looked as if she'd be tall like me also. She wasn't like me though, she didn't take after me. Hell, who would want to.

I felt a head ache coming on. I stepped out of America Eagle and sat down on a bench. Who was I? When did this war become me? And more importantly, when did I stop caring? You a killer, thats why you don't care. You know thats what you are, you like that being who you are. You wouldn't have it any other way. No, thats not true. My other half began to edge into my mind, more strongly than it ever had before. Of all places, a bench right outside of my favorite stores in my beloved mall was the place and time I would begin to face myself.

How is it not true? How, itsaid. You know why you don't have friends? Because you don't want them. You never have. You use them to make you feel normal, thats all. But your not normal. You never were. Lets face it Rach, theres you and theres the rest of the world, and never the twain shall meet. No! Yes! You knew it the first time you killed! The first time you took another life you felt it. It felt good. More than that, it felt right. Not because you were fighting for some sort of cause, but because this is what you knew you would meant to be. This was your time, your place. Stop! You see your teammates, you see their suffering, their pain, and you have no idea what it's like. You try and act affected but your not. You try to relate to their nightmares but you can't. Everyday they are scared of you, everyday they wonder when you'll finaly loose it. But they don't know do they? You try to convince yourself that this war as made you this monster but it hasn't. There is no monster, Rachel. Theres only you.

I ran. I just got up and started running for the nearest exit. I knew people were watching me, but I didn't care. I was crying. I do not cry. I DO NOT CRY. Especially over nothing. And this what was it was, nothing. I was lonely at the mall, lonely and feeling introspective. Lonely? Please, your feeling lost. Lost because it's been awhile since you've killed anything.

"NOO!" That was outloudI saw a few more people stop what they were doing and stare but withinin seconds I was outside. I was breathing hard. I slumped down against a wall. I was behind the mall next to a few giant dumpsters. The smell was horrible and normally I wouldn't be caught sitting on the ground, especaily with these jeans, but I was suddenly exhaused. Sitting there, I thought I had finnaly lost itBut I new the truth. I knew it, not just the killer me that I had tried to separate myself from. I wasn't crazy, in fact I was far from it. It had been craziness to deny the dark half of me wasn't really a part of me at all. I realized it and I hated it. For the first time in my uberconfident, over achiving life, I hated myself.

Suddenly, I heard voices. Guys.

"Yeah, she was hot, but have you seen her lately? Jeeze, she really let her self go man! And plus I hear shes a slut."

"Oh please, like that would have stopped you." Marco! That was Marco. Oh God, please don't let him see me. I scrabled up fast and pressed myself against a dumpster.

"Speakin of hot, that girl your always with, Rachel? Man!"

The voices were closer. Suddenly I saw them. It was Marco and two boys from school, Jon and Sully. They passed by me, not seeing. I breathed a sigh of relief. Since when did I what poeple thought of me, especially Marco and two boys I didn't even really know? Its because your crying, you coward. No one must see that your anything but brave and fearless, even when they know its bull--

"Boo!"

"Ahhhh! I screamed.

Marco laughed. "Wow, Zena, I guess fighting for your life doesn't scare you but a well timed 'Boo' does. I'm definitly gonna remember that."

"Shut up," I said, pushing him out of my way a little harder than I intended to. I walked away.

"Hey," Marco said, coming after me. "It's okay, anybody could be scared by a 'Boo.' It's a natural human instinct. Those words strike fear in the heart of even the bravest of men."

"Can I do somehting for you Marco?" I asked careful to to let him catch up me me fully and see that I had been crying. Water-proof mascara my ass.

"Well," he said, almost beside me. "I suppose you could tell me why I saw this tallish, impecably dressed blonde girl run screaming from the mall and then see hiding from her teammate and bantering partner pressed up agaisnt a disgusting dumpster? I mean, I see you've had some sort of mall trama, but couldn't you have at least said hi?''

I spun on him. "Marco shut up! Not everything is a goddamn joke!" I went to push him again, for no other reason than that I was mad, but he caught both my arms.

"Hey!" he said, all the humor gone from his voice. "Don't push me again."

I felt the strength in his grip. I don't usually do any fighting in my normal body and I realized how weak I really was. Sure I had spunk, and a definite attitude problem, but that didn't really matter all that much when you tipped the scales at a wopping 105. Marco, while shorter than me, was definitly stronger.

I yanked my hands away. I wanted to say so much but anger clouded my thoughts, as usual. I turned around and punched a wall. Very unlady like. Immediatly I felt searing pain shoot up my arm. But I was used to physical pain. I had experienced more than my share of it. In fact, it was sort of comferting, familar.

I stood facing the wall. Marco came up behind me. I waited for the smart remark, the akward joke that would try and ease the tesion but it didn't come. He didn't leave though, we sort of just stood there for a little while. I wanted to say something, anything to get what I felt out of my head, to make it real. If it was real I could fight it. Did I even want to fight it? Maybe I was tired of fighting it.

Marco broke the silence. "I'm guessing this is one of those situations where I shouldn't think that you don't have anything to say just beacuse your not saying it."

I laughed bitterly. "Oh really, Cassie?" I turned around, strangely glad that he was here. We had a lot in common, Marco and I. We often found ourselves on the same side of things. Also, it seemed we both had tried and true defensive mechanisms. Mine was blind anger his was telling jokes. "And what brought you to that brillant conclusion, may I ask?"

"Uh, perhaps beacuse you haven't gone grizzly and chased my ass outta here?"

I laughed and sat down, all the anger suddenly gone. He sat next to me.

"First of all," I began, " I can't believe I'm talking to you, of all people."

"Hey," he answered with a fake wince of pain. "That hurts Rachel. It really does."

I stared up at the sky and closed my eyes. "I'm really starting to feel it you know? What I've become. I realized this crazed killer isn't who I've become, its who I've always been. Before I never thought about it, even when I knew deep down it was true. But now, I feel it all the time. I feel so...diconnected. I can't even function like a normal person. I love it Marco. I love this war. And it disgusts me."

Marco was silent for a long time. This war had taken his mother from him. I'm sure he had a different outlook on it.

"You know Rachel, you may feel like your all alone, but your not. We all have our reasons for fighting. Jake has his responsibility complex and his brother, I fight for my mother, Tobias fights for his father, and Cassie fights for her idealistic dillusions, or perhaps, because of them. Ax has his reasons. You may fight beacuse you love fighting but at this point it doesn't matter. We all need outr reasons to keep going. If we loose them, what do we have?"

I sighed. "So what your saying is so what if your some kind of monster as long as you keep fighting? That didn't really help much."

"What do I look like, Mya Angelou?" He looked away.

"Look, I know what I know, and I know that you have a killer in you, we all know that. But, we all have it. Just because you've utilized that side of you more than you ever have before and certainly more than any of us doesn't mean it's all you are. Maybe now its just more in the forefront. If we've learned one thing from this war its that there's no such thing as black white. Everything is gray. You may get off from the violence but you still have love in your heart, you may feel disconnected but you can still sympathize. Maybe you've lost some of your humanity."

He looked right at me. "But that doesn't mean it's gone forever, you know. You may feel like you too far gone and maybe you have." He paused. "But, your Rachel, your not gonna let some little thing like a sociopathic killer instinct get in your way, right?"

I laughed and Marco smiled. I was a little overwhelmed. I'd never thought I'd hear anything like that come from Marco, when he usually was the first to point out how crazy I was. I smiled back and felt something pass between us. Understanding, comradery. For the first time I really felt the bond between us. We had gone through alot together, all of us had.

Marco stood up and held out his hand to help me up. I suppose normaly I would have scoffed at that sort of gesture, especialy coming from Marco. But I guess nomaly I wouldn't have spilled my guts to him either. I took his hand. He pulled me up up too hard puposefully, making my stumble forward. We both laughed.

"So, how bout we go flying. Mr. Parker gave me a 'D' on my English paper and I'm seriously considering shitting on his car windsheild."

I laughed, "Sure." I felt better. Not that I was completely fine, but I definatly felt someting I hadn't felt about myself in a long time; hope. Maybe when this was over I'd find another place for me to be in this world. Maybe when it was over the killer in me would be satisfied.

"And Marco?" I said, begining to morph. "You do realize that if you tell anyone about this I'll kill you, right?"

He laughed. "I wouln't have it any other way."