Title: The Lost Son of War

Disclaimer: I don't own Animorphs or the characters. I do own the two Andalites Maril and Erithin. Also there are lines in here that come straight from #23 The Pretender (such as Elfangor's letter) so those aren't mine either.

Pairings: Rachel/Tobias, Jake/Cassie

Summary: In an alternate universe where Elfangor never died and the Animorphs never gained the morphing power, Tobias is about to have his whole world rocked. Who knew a trip to the lawyer's office could be this exciting?

AN: Alright, just so you know, I am horrible at lawyer-speak and have never really received anything formally from a lawyer's office so please forgive the sad example of what I think a letter might look like from them. And one other thing—Do you think I need to change the title? Be honest. The other choices are The Lost Son of War or My Alien Nature or something like that.

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Chapter #1: My Name is Tobias

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My name is Tobias and what I'm about to tell you may be a little shocking. You may want to sit down for this. Yes, I mean you Mr. 6-Foot-I-Eat-Dweebs-Like-You-For-Breakfast because you know what? You aren't the most dangerous thing on this planet anymore.

They're called the Yeerks and they're evil parasitic slugs that take over your mind. You can't talk to your friends, you can't eat your favorite foods, you can't even smell your own nasty gym socks because they do it all for you. Sure, you're still in there, but as soon as they've gotten their slimy, disgusting little slug-selves into your ear you've just been demoted to observer status in your own head. You're made to watch as this slug tells your parents it loves them, as this parasite fumbles the pass on your basketball team, as this disgusting, little slimy thing closes your eyes and kisses your girlfriend or boyfriend, and basically as this evil alien lives your whole life for you. And don't think they're happy with just that. Oh no. They're laughing at everything you hold dear and tormenting you all the way. Like I said, they're evil.

And how do I know all this? Well I was almost one of them. I was this close to hell on earth and barely escaped with my sanity intact. Because I am sane. This isn't just the ramblings of some madman in a loony bin somewhere who has somehow gotten a hold of a pen and paper and is writing this while huddled furtively in the corner of a padded cell. I am sane. Though if it makes you feel any better sometimes I do wonder about if this is all real.

Because sometimes this all just seems too Sci-fi for real life. Real life doesn't have 7-foot tall walking bladed monsters. Real life doesn't have centaurs with scorpion tails that turn out to be your father. In real life, I'm this sad little nobody, no real family, no friends, and bullies flocking to me like flies.

But then I look up from the pad of paper I'm writing this on and realize again that this really is happening. That that day in the lawyer's office really happened. That my life really has changed in weird and wonderful and terrifying ways.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. You have no idea what I'm talking about. I'm talking about all these aliens and invasions and you still don't even know who I am. I tell you my name is Tobias and you're expected to believe everything I say without even a little background information. Well I can't tell you anything more than my first name. I used to be called Tobias LePais, but I don't go by that anymore and anything else I could tell you would only help the Yeerks find me. And, needless to say, I don't want that. Nobody wants that.

But, I can tell you the story. The story about how little geeky old me became one of Earth's last defenses again the Yeerks. The story of the others who fight alongside me and teach me everything I need to know. The story of how I met my father and everything changed. It's a long story, a complex story full of heartache, love, and war, and, as a lot of good stories do, it all started with a letter.

--

When I come home from school, I always take the time to get the mail, as I know otherwise it just won't get taken in, and I sorted through this mail as I walked into the kitchen. As usual it was mostly all bills and junk mail, but, finding something addressed to me, I stopped. It was a letter from a lawyer's office, DeGroot & DeGroot, whoever they were. Throwing the rest of the mail on the kitchen counter for my uncle, I stared at the one envelope addressed to me for a long moment before sneaking a peek at my uncle in the next room. Seeing that he was asleep —actually drooling on his old, nearly falling apart, armchair, beer slipping from one lifeless hand to spill on the floor and remote held protectively in his lap—I decided to take the chance to sneak past him and head for the tiny cramped thing I dared to call my bedroom to open my letter in peace. I didn't want my uncle suddenly waking up and finding me with yet another reason to yell or throw things at me.

Getting to my room without incident, I sat on the edge of my bed and again took out the letter to stare at it some more. Truthfully I was a little afraid of what it had to say. What if I was being sued? I didn't think I'd done anything worthy of being sued for, but what else could they possibly want? I wasn't rich enough or important enough for them to waste their time on me for any other reason.

Finally I decided to stop stalling and resolutely tore into the envelope. Taking out the fancy stationary that was inside, the company's insignia embossed at the top of the page, I settled in to read the surprisingly short—for something from a lawyer's office at least—letter.

It said:

To Mr. Tobias LePais,

It has come to our attention here at DeGroot & DeGroot that we are in possession of a document from a former client of ours that is to be heard by you, and your chosen legal counsel, alone on a previously specified date. The date for disclosure is October 26, 2008, the date of your 16th birthday as was demanded under the specifications of the contract. We understand that this date is fast approaching and so we would ask for an audience with you on said date in order to go over some documents of especial note.

Signed,

Robert DeGroot

DeGroot & DeGroot Attorneys at Law

Well, huh, was all I could think after reading that. So they had some documents for me? What could they be? Money maybe? Because if it was I should probably not tell my uncle about this.

But I would just have to wait to figure it out and so I went to bed that night still worrying over what the possible documents could be.

It was a whole two weeks before my birthday.

--

The next day I went to school as usual. Immediately as I stepped onto the bus I knew I was not going to have a good day. It was practically a vision. And I knew this because the only seats left on the bus were those in front of Brandon and his sidekick Hunchback.

Brandon was this huge guy, a linebacker on the football team and basically a roll of fat covered in muscles, who never got into trouble because of his position as a top athlete. He was a complete bastard, but not as bad as Hunchback, who didn't have a hunchback per se, but who always sat hunched over as if he had a bad stomachache and was protecting his stomach from any worse damage. Hunchback seemed to get a special pleasure out of watching kids littler than him writhe in pain. I had actually once caught him pulling wings off of flies and then laughing as the poor insect tried to get back up into the air and away from him. These two were my especial tormenters now that I was in High school. In Junior High it had been two other kids, Andy and Tap-Tap, who had been horrible, but not this horrible. These two took bullying to the next extreme.

I walked down the aisle to my seat as if I was walking down death row. Slipping into the seat in front of the duo, I flinched even as my butt came into contact with the seat, knowing it wouldn't be long before I was in excruciating pain.

"Hello, dweeb," Brandon said, using all the combined power of his two brain cells in an exhaustive effort to spit out those two condescending words.

I didn't answer, determinedly staring out the window. Maybe if I pretended I hadn't heard him he'd go away. A tactic I had tried many times, each time meeting with failure.

"I said: Hello, dweeb," Brandon said more forcefully, reaching over the seat to pound a fist into my head.

I winced in pain, but managed to reply, "Hi, Brandon."

That seemed to satisfy Brandon because he removed his fist only to then have him sit up and lean over the seat between him and his prey to say right in my ear, pleasantly enough if not for the threat in his words, "Do you know what we're gonna do today, dweeb?"

My face was going to get stuck in a permanently winced position if this kept up. "Arts and Crafts?" I offered weakly with whatever little bravery I had left and then immediately flinched as if I'd been hit as soon as the words hit the air.

Brandon laughed mockingly at this, but then said, in a patronizing voice, "No, dweeb. Actually we're going to do a little makeover. See, me and Hunchback here have a little bet going. I say the only way to beat a kid is with your fists. That way you can control the result. But he says, you need to kick them in the face to get that lovely bruised color. Nothing else works quite the same as your feet. So we're gonna do a little experiment. I'll punch and he'll kick and we'll see which one of us gets the prettier look. How's that sound?"

It sounded horrible. "It sounds great," I said weakly, pasting on a shaky smile as I was already picturing the pile of bruises I was going to be at the end of the day.

"Good," Brandon said and slapped me roughly upside the head. "Then we'll see you at three outside the tool shed." He lowered his voice threateningly, "Don't be late."

I knew what would happen if I was late. I'd tried to avoid them one day and the result had not been pretty. Eyes wide in fear, I nodded my head frantically. "I won't."

"Good," Brandon said again, smiling as he then hit me one more time and sat back in his seat.

--

Later, I was at my locker trying to wrestle with all of my many books and things. They just did not want to stay in my locker. They kept falling out and at the moment I was holding both my Chemistry book and my Literature book along with three different notebooks and a bunch of loose leaf paper, all of which seemed determined to fall out of my hands. Literature book slipping low, I grabbed that and then my Chemistry book began to slip. I scowled in frustration as I grabbed at one of my falling notebooks and then my Chemistry book began to slip again.

"Dammit," I muttered to myself as I tried to adjust my hold on my things only to have a sheet of paper come loose and fall to the floor, the Literature book nearly slipping out of my hands after it. I grabbed for it and the damn Chemistry book began to slip again.

"Hey, Tobias," Rachel's voice said and my' head shot up even as at that exact moment every book I held fell with a clunk to the ground, paper fluttering out of my hands to spread throughout the hallway.

Looking down at the pile of books and paper now at my feet, I could only silently curse my luck as Rachel smiled in some amusement and continued on her way. Of course that would happen right when I needed to look cool.

See, the thing was, I liked Rachel. As in really liked. I had thought she was gorgeous when I was in middle school, back before I had been moved back to my aunt's place across the country. Now that I was back at my uncle's, three years later, Rachel had only gotten prettier. And she was nice too. Some god had stepped in and made us partners in Chemistry and, while I should be using this chance to act cool and sophisticated, all I could seem to manage was blushing and stuttering like the idiot I am. It was just a testament to her character that Rachel seemed to like me still anyways. I mean, she wouldn't be going out of her way to talk to me at lunch or anything, but she would actually acknowledge me in the halls which was more than most people did. All in all, she was amazing.

Getting down on my hands and knees, I started to gather up all of my things, grabbing at the papers as they threatened to float away and chasing after the few that already had. There was a sheet right there and right there and over there. And, oh, there was one right under—"Ah!" A foot had connected with my face and I immediately dropped everything to clutch my nose in pain.

Ow.

"Oops. Sorry," Brandon said though he obviously wasn't the least bit sorry. "Here, let me help you with that." And he reached down as if to gather up some of the loose leaf papers only to take them and throw them this way and that, spreading them out along the hallway and even throwing a few of them away.

I watched this and had to bite back anything I wanted to say. Talking back only got you in more trouble.

Everybody in the hallway laughed and, taking a deep breath to calm myself as Brandon threw his last paper away and walked off laughing to himself, throwing a beefy arm over one of the lead cheerleader's shoulders, I started the longer process of gathering up my things.

Just be calm, I told myself. Getting mad doesn't help anything. It only makes things worse. This is your life and you just have to deal with it for as long as you can. There's only two more years of high school after this one. You can deal.

You can deal.

Having gathered up almost all of the papers, two or three of which I found now had the imprint of someone's shoe, I sighed quietly to myself and shook my head. The world was a rotten place.

"Hey," someone said quietly as they approached and, kneeling down, started to help me pick up the papers. I stared at this strange person until finally the person had picked up every piece of paper there was left and, presenting them to me, said, "I saw what they were doing to you and that's not right, man. It's just not right."

I looked down at the floor, somewhat ashamed.

"I mean," the person—a tall, dark-haired senior that I had seen around campus sometimes—continued, "Maybe this is none of my business, but why don't you stick up for yourself?"

That made me a little irritated and I grabbed the papers away from the senior a little more roughly than was warranted. "You're right. That is none of your business."

"Hey," the senior said, putting his hands up in a warding gesture. "I don't mean anything by it. I just . . . well . . .wait a minute . . ." Here, the senior paused to open his backpack and scrimmage through it for a moment, finally pulling out a flyer and presenting this to me. "Here. I'm part of this group that I think you might like. It's called the Sharing and, despite what you may have heard, it's actually a pretty cool place. We have barbecues and camping trips or, if you like, you could just come and hang out with us sometime. No pressure. We could just play some pool or watch some TV."

I took the flyer from the other boy gingerly and actually looked at it. It did sound nice and the people in the picture on the flyer certainly seemed happy enough.

"It's just a place where everybody can be themselves and still be accepted no matter what," the guy continued, smiling at me carefully.

"Do I have to pay anything?" I asked, looking up from the flyer in question.

"Oh no," the senior said, shaking his head with another smile and looking like the question was a silly one. "Everything's free of charge." There was a pause then the senior looked at me expectantly. "So? What do you think?"

I looked back down at the flyer again for a moment then, having a thought, looked at my watch. It was two minutes till the start of my first class and my first class was on the opposite side of campus. "I think I'm gonna be late for class," I said as I hastily grabbed my backpack and swung it over my shoulder. "Thank you! I'll think about it!" I called over my shoulder as I ran off.

--

And I did think about it. I thought about it when I was being beaten black and blue that day after school. I thought about it when my uncle was yelling at me and throwing beer bottles at my head over some little non-important thing. I thought about it in my classes. I thought about it on the bus. I thought about it when I was making dinner and when I was cleaning up the house after my uncle had passed out in the living room. And eventually I decided that I had nothing to lose so I might as well go. And so, a week after I had first received the flyer, I went.

Looking at the well-worn flyer I had prized since I had first received it, I looked up at the door in front of me. This was the right address. All I had to do was go inside. Just go inside. Everybody wasn't going to laugh at me just because I entered through the door.

Eventually I got up the courage to open the door and I was immediately greeted by two happy, smiling people wearing nametags.

"Hello!" the one on the left said cheerfully, her nametag declaring her Stacy. "Welcome to the Sharing!"

"Is this your first time?" the one on the right asked curiously, his nametag declaring him John.

"Um . . . Yeah," I said uncertainly, looking around myself at the room curiously. I was in what looked like a rec room, with couches set up to watch TV over in the corner and pool and ping pong tables set up in the center for anybody who wanted to play. I could see through the clear sliding door that outside they had basketball hoops set up and tables and chairs for those that just wanted to sit outside. The whole place had a homey feel to it that I actually liked.

"Well then. Let's show you around, shall we?" Stacy said, putting a hand on my shoulder and starting to lead me around the building, showing me things like where the kitchen was, where the bathrooms were, what the rules were for the ping pong and pool tables and TV, and other things like that. John was left at the door to greet the other guests and Stacy had such a friendly air to her that I found myself liking her immensely. Eventually she had shown me everything and left me with a group of other Sharing members to "hang out".

"So you're Tobias, eh?" one of the Sharing members asked, looking away from the TV to give me his attention.

Still a little nervous, I just nodded and wiped my hands on my "nice" jeans.

"Well, I'm Matt," the guy continued and reached out a hand to shake. Quickly, wiping my hands on my jeans again, I shook his hand.

"Welcome to the club," Matt said, taking his hand back and sitting back on the couch. "Why don't you come sit over here?" he said, gesturing me closer and scooting over to give me some room on the couch.

By the end of the day, I had had so much fun and had felt so welcomed and liked that I had decided that I would be spending a lot of time here at the Sharing. This was my new favorite place to be.

"So will we be seeing you again?" Stacy asked as I prepared to leave.

Looking back at where the other guys I'd been hanging out with were still watching TV, I turned back to Stacy and smiled slightly. "Yeah. I think you will."

"Well that's great!" Stacy said and she actually seemed genuinely enthusiastic.

My smile gained some strength and I promised myself that I'd come back the very next day.

On my second visit I was given a "buddy". Someone to hang out with and who would help me figure out how to best use the Sharing's resources. At first I had been a little insulted. Were they saying that I was so geeky that they needed to hire someone to hang out with me? But then I had realized that everybody had been given a "buddy" just like me and I had calmed down.

On my third visit my "buddy," Mark, first introduced the idea of becoming a full member to me.

"A full member?" I had repeated, somewhat unsure.

"Yeah," Mark had said with a bright smile and a nod, "You'd be given a lot more responsibility but then you'd also be given a lot more trust and you could do things and know things that only the full members can know about. I'm a full member and, believe me, it's great."

I still hadn't been sure I was the leadership type, but it had sounded cool. Looking down at my lap then up at Mark again, I had said, "But how would I do that? Would it take long?"

"Well you'd have to come to a lot more meetings," Mark had replied, "but if you were serious about it you could definitely become a full member by the end of the month. And there's an initiation process, of course, but I think you'd be fine."

Huh, I had thought and then told Mark that I'd think about it.

--

Finally the day came that I would be turning sixteen. Somewhat excited to find out what the lawyers could possibly want with me, I pulled out a relatively nice outfit—My closet is full of hand-me-downs, Goodwill rejects, and clothes that no longer fit so this was a little hard—and planned out my day. I would go to school for first period, but then I would skip out during second and take the bus down to the lawyer's office with what little money I had been able to scrounge up.

All went according to plan and I found myself outside a small business office, double-checking the address to make sure I had the right place. Finally, gathering up my courage and actually feeling much better about myself now that I had happened across the Sharing, I entered through the front door.

I found myself in a small reception area where chairs had been set up with end tables bearing old magazines to read while a person waited and a secretary sat at her desk, writing something in an appointment book, the phone held to her ear.

I waited until she was done with the phone call and then approached.

"Yes. Can I help you?" the secretary asked, her eyes roaming over my tattered slacks and too small polo shirt.

I felt a wave of self-consciousness, but I was used to this so it passed quickly and I said in a clear voice, "I'm here to see Mr. DeGroot?" making the statement sound more like a question.

The secretary just looked at me, not impressed. "Do you have an appointment?"

I nodded. "Yes."

Hearing this, the secretary turned to her computer. "And would that be with Robert DeGroot or his father, Richard DeGroot?" she asked as she typed something in.

"Um . . . the first one," I said.

"And can I get your name?"

"Tobias LePais."

"Alright . . ." The secretary typed this in then seemed to read something from the screen before turning back to me. "You have an 11 o'clock appointment. Please wait over there and Mr. DeGroot will be with you in a moment."

It turned out to be nearly fifteen minutes before Mr. DeGroot could see me and I ended up reading an old motorcycle magazine without knowing why.

Finally Mr. DeGroot stepped out of his office to welcome me. "Ah, Mr. LePais. So glad you could make it." He began ushering me into his office where another man was already seated. "Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? Coke?"

I shook my head as I took the seat next to the man who was already in the room. "No, thank you."

Mr. DeGroot smiled as he sat back down in his desk chair. "Well at least you're polite."

The man that had already been seated shot Mr. DeGroot a look and the lawyer cleared his throat.

"But that's enough for pleasantries," he said and shuffled through some of the papers on his desk. "Let's get down to business, shall we? I've taken the liberty of hiring you a legal counsel." Mr. DeGroot indicated the other man with a hand. "This is Mr. Visser."

Mr. Visser nodded his head at me.

"Um. Hi," I said with a weak smile in greeting. This guy seemed a little intimidating.

"He's here if you have any questions or concerns. Just ask him and it's his job to help out," Mr. DeGroot said with a smile and I looked at my supposed legal counsel again. He certainly didn't look very helpful.

"Well then . . ." Mr. DeGroot shuffled some more papers before getting started. "We're here today to carry out the reading of an important document left for Tobias by his father," Mr. DeGroot began seriously, almost formally, "By . . . by a man different than the man you believed to be your father."

What? I blinked once, more than shocked by this. This wasn't what I'd been expecting at all. "So I'm not getting money?"

Mr. DeGroot didn't seem to know what to make of my reaction to that. "Um . . . No." There was an awkward pause before Mr. DeGroot said, "So shall we get started?" He seemed to be looking more to Mr. Visser than me as he asked this.

"Just read it," Mr. Visser snapped and I turned now to look at him strangely. Mr. Visser seemed to realize he was acting weirdly and seemed to settle himself down. He smiled genially at me. "I'm sure you're curious about what this is all about."

That still didn't make Mr. Visser seem to be acting any less weird, but I smiled weakly at the effort at normalcy.

"Well then," the lawyer cleared his voice, before beginning to read. "Dear Tobias." Mr. DeGroot paused, seeming to hesitate before pulling out a pair of reading glasses from his desk and putting them on. "Dear Tobias," he began again. "I am your father. You never knew me and I never knew you. I do not know what your life has been over these many years. I hope that your mother found someone else to love. I know that all memory of me has been erased from her mind. All evidence of my time on Earth has been erased."

I could feel Mr. Visser staring at me and I didn't know why. He had an almost predatory alertness, but I was just confused. What was this guy they called my real father talking about? Erased from her mind?

Mr. DeGroot continued. "I am being given this opportunity to communicate with you by the very creature who has erased my life on Earth. He has called me back to my duty and I cannot fail. This will seem very strange to you, my unknown, unseen, unmet, son. But I am not one of your people. I have taken on the form of a human, but I am not human."

Now I was really confused. Was this guy crazy?

The lawyer seemed to glance up at me to meet my confused eyes then glanced at Mr. Visser and continued on. "I was in a terrible war. I did terrible things. I had to, I suppose. But I grew tired of war, so I ran away. I went and hid among the people of Earth. Among humans. While on Earth, and living as a human, I took the name Alan Fangor."

The lawyer seemed to be quoting from memory now, no longer really reading and was instead just watching my reaction. Mr. Visser had given up the act of normalcy and was just watching me closely though for what, I didn't know. There was a tension in the room as if something huge was happening here, if I could only figure out what.

"I took the name Alan Fangor," the lawyer repeated. " But my true name is Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul."

The two men seemed to watch me especially closely at the sound of the name. I just blinked, more than confused. Who was this madman they called my father and why did he think he was an alien? And, more importantly, what did these people, Mr. DeGroot and Mr. Visser, want with me?

Mr. DeGroot seemed a little confused as to why I wasn't reacting like he supposedly expected and reread the last line as if it should be especially shocking, "But my true name is Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul." Again the lawyer looked up at me.

I again just looked confused.

"Oh he doesn't know anything," Mr. Visser burst out irritably. "Just take him down to the pool."

And that was when things got really strange.

--

TBC?