Fractured

3: Crossroads

MARCO

The neighborhood is quiet, shadows stretching across lawns as streetlights click on one by one. Rachel and I walk side by side, the adrenaline from our last mission still humming faintly in my veins. We've just saved an alien who looks like a blue deer with a scorpion tail. And we've fought off Hork-Bajir and Taxxons like it's some messed-up video game. But here we are, back in the normal world, passing houses with warm yellow lights glowing through the windows. Just regular people, living regular lives, unaware that their world is inches away from falling apart.

"So," I say, breaking the silence. "Guess we have another teammate now. Ax, the Andalite. If nothing else, he's got style."

Rachel smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Yeah. He's going to be a big help. A real fighter. Another weapon on our side." She looks at me, and I can tell she's searching my face, trying to read what I'm not saying.

"What?" I ask, feeling her eyes on me.

She shrugs, her gaze turning ahead again. "I was just thinking... we've got a real chance now. Between Ax and the powers we got, it feels like maybe we can actually do this. We can really take the Yeerks down."

The thought makes my stomach twist. "Doesn't that freak you out, though? I mean, just last month we were regular kids. Now we're supposed to be Earth's only defense against alien invaders?"

Rachel looks at me, a little incredulous. "I don't know, Marco. I don't feel like a 'regular kid' anymore. And I don't think that's who we're supposed to be right now. Elfangor, the morphing, now rescuing Ax and everything, it's like destiny." Her voice is calm but unwavering, like she's already made up her mind and is only trying to get me to see what she sees.

I shove my hands into my pockets, staring down at the sidewalk as we walk. "I know what you're saying, but... I have my dad to think about. I can't just throw myself into this war without thinking about what happens to him. If I don't make it back one day..." My throat tightens, and I look away, pretending to be fascinated by a flickering streetlamp. "He's all I've got, and he's been through enough already. I can't do that to him."

She's quiet for a moment, her face unreadable. "Marco, I get that you're worried. I get it. But if we don't fight now, then what happens to him? What happens to everyone?" Her words are soft, but there's something sharp beneath them, something that makes my skin prickle.

I look at her, frustration bubbling up. "It's not that simple, Rachel. It's easy for you to talk about fighting and destiny and all that, but you don't get what it's like to have someone depending on you like this. My dad already lost my mom, and he's barely holding it together as it is."

She softens, but only a little. "I understand more than you think, Marco. But if we don't fight now, if we don't try to stop them... then your dad, my family—everyone will lose, sooner or later." She takes a breath, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "This is happening whether we want it to or not. We're being called to save everyone. And sitting on the sidelines, hoping it'll go away, that doesn't do anything."

I clench my jaw, feeling torn. "So what, we're just supposed to throw ourselves into this? Forget about everything else? Because that sounds a little like a death wish, Rachel."

She pauses, and when she looks at me, her eyes are intense, almost fierce. "No. It's about not running away from what's right in front of us. Maybe that's hard for you to understand, but... I can't just sit back and watch this happen. Not when I know I can do something about it."

Her words sting more than I want to admit. I know she's not saying it outright, but I can feel the edge to her tone, the unspoken words that hint at what she thinks of me for hesitating. To her, the fighting and bravery and sacrifice are just... part of who she is. And maybe she thinks that makes her stronger, more willing. But it feels like she doesn't get that I'm not afraid of the fight—I'm afraid of what it will cost.

"Look, maybe you're cut out for this," I mutter. "Maybe you feel like you've got some 'calling' or whatever. But that's not me, Rachel. I didn't ask for this, and I don't want to lose the only family I have left because of it."

Rachel stops, and for a second, I think maybe I've actually gotten through to her. But then she just shakes her head, her voice soft but unyielding. "We're all losing something, Marco. Every day. The difference is... we can either sit back and let it happen, or we can do something about it."

We start walking again, but the silence between us is tense, and I can feel this distance growing—her world pulling her one way, and mine the other. She's right there beside me, but it feels like she's already miles ahead, ready to fight this war with or without me. And as I look at her, determined, fierce, I realize that nothing I say will change her mind.