AN: I will warn you, this story deals with rape. You'll figure that out about five paragraphs in. So please, kiddies, leave now. Seriously. I don't want anyone under the age of thirteen reading this here story, or I'll feel bad for corrupting your innocence.

But I feel like anyone reading Animorphs is at least thirteen anyhow. It's so old that we're coming up on the ten year ending mark. But we're getting a reprint to celebrate. OMGYAY!

Also, I don't own Animorphs. If I did, it wouldn't be nearly as awesome as it turned out.

I fell asleep. Don't ask me how I could have been so damn stupid or irresponsible, I don't know. Not a day goes by I don't ask myself why I didn't have the minuscule strength it takes to keep my eye lids from drooping. I guess it was because I had spent almost of all of the night before camping outside an old, abandoned shack, worrying about my best friend. Or maybe it was because when I checked in at home I realized I still had an entire English essay to write and had to devote two freaking hours of my life to that instead the sleep I'd intended to get. All I really know is that one minute, I was sitting there playing with a twig on the ground counting down the hours until the filthy Yeerk was out of my best friend's head, and the next my eyes were snapping open as a boy much bigger than I was gripped my shoulders and leered down at me.

"What do you want?" I demanded crankily. The slug had what, four, maybe five hours left? Why on earth would he be trying to make trouble now? I supposed it might have been some kind of last ditch attempt at bringing us down, but if glaring at me was all he could do, I wasn't worried.

I found out pretty soon that he wasn't just going to glare at me.

For a second there I wondered how he managed to escape the ropes, but we had recently loosened them to allow Jake some circulation. I could see the rope burn along his wrist and hands from where he wriggled free. It looked painful, but he didn't seem to mind. All his concentration was directed somewhere else, on me, I guess. Flattering, no? No, it really wasn't. Not at all.

His grasp on my shoulders tightened. I cocked one eyebrow. "Really, Yeerk? You can turn into a tiger and squeezing me is the best you can do?" I grabbed one of his reddened wrists and attempted to push it nonchalantly off of me. It wouldn't budge a bit. I looked up into his eyes again to gauge his emotions. Was he angry or just bored or what? My eyes met Jake's, or rather the Yeerk's, well, the Yeerk-in-Jake's eyes and I couldn't quite tell what that expression was. It seemed cold and calculating, standard for a Yeerk, but there was something else in it too, something…off. I tried again, "Just get back in your chair and tie yourself back up like a good little parasite. You can't win this."

Sudden movement. Next thing I knew, I was lying on the cold floor, stray twigs and rocks digging into my back. Yeerk-in-Jake finally spoke, "maybe I can't win this battle, but I can go a long way in helping to win the war."

What the crap? Well that made no sense. I was about to laugh at him about it, but at that point he swung his leg over to my other side so that he was straddling me, and lowered himself slowly onto my stomach. He didn't rest all his weight on me, thankfully, because Jake's kind of…big. Not like fat or anything, just tall, broad, that kind of thing. He weighed a lot more than I did, and it would have hurt a lot.

Not that what was coming wouldn't hurt a lot more.

"What are you doing?" I asked. The words came out rushed as I struggled against him, attempting to sit up as my arms pushed at his shoulders, trying to get him off me. He just grabbed my wrists and pinned them down above my head. I was caught staring up into his dark eyes. It was impossible. They were the same eyes I'd been looking at my entire life, almost black with a tiny fleck of lighter brown towards the center of his right eye. The only difference here was the expression: one I'd never ever seen on the real Jake. I still can't describe it, but it scared the hell out of me. "Okay Yeerk, whatever you're doing, it won't work. You're done. So if you'd kindly get off of me before I go all gorilla on you, that'd be great, thanks."

"Something tells me you'll be a bit too…distracted to morph," he smirked confidently, and then lowered his lips to my neck.

My eyes widened in shock. What the? What business did a Yeerk have doing…that? I'm smart and I'm worldly and believe me, if that had been happening to anyone else, I'd know what was going on the second it started, but this was me and my attacker was some controller version of Jake and I'd never have guessed anything like this would happen to me.

I was deluding myself, thinking that maybe the Yeerk thought this was some kind of battle tactic. He was biting my neck hard enough that it hurt, but not hard enough to do permanent damage. When he transferred both my wrists to one of his hands and moved the other down to snake up my t shirt, I knew exactly what was going on.

But I couldn't think clearly enough to stop it.

"You know," controller Jake said, "I might be dying soon, but I offer no white flag. Maybe I can't bring you all back to Visser Three, but I can make sure you precious little Animorphs never work the same way again."

His hand was moving lower now and I started writhing, fighting to get away, but he simply dropped the rest of his weight on me and that rendered me pretty damn immobile.

"I know what can break a human, Marco," he hissed. I shuddered at the sound of my name. "And I know what this will do to you," a kiss/bite on my jugular, "and young Jacob here." He hesitated, eyes boring into mine. He smiled and added, almost as an afterthought, "though maybe not quite to the same extent. He's had thoughts about you, you know."

Those words were as good as a punch in the gut. The wind just flew from my lungs and I lay there, motionless and useless as controller Jake's hand slipped lower and lower.

"He should thank me, really," the parasite mused out loud. "I'm only doing for him what he never had the courage to do himself," his hand finally reached its destination and I squinted my eyes shut. His voice was low in my ear, and a shiver shot through me again. "But from what I can tell of his fantasies, I'll have a very…pleasurable time doing it." My eyes flew open again. I knew he was lying. Jake and I are just friends, believe me, but that didn't change the terror I felt sweeping through me. And I couldn't stop myself from wondering how on earth a Yeerk managed to use emotions like that when he obviously didn't have himself.

I tried to fight him off, I really did, but have I mentioned that Jake is bigger than me? I mean a lot bigger. He's kind of large for our age, whereas I'm rather small. It's a big difference and it's one that my stupid, puny body couldn't overcome.

And as much as it pains me to say this, the Yeerk was right. I was too distracted to morph. Everything time I called to mind that picture of the gorilla, he would do something to snap my concentration in half. And when he…god, when he…well, you know what he did. I couldn't think at all.

I'd been in battles. I'd had a third of my body nearly gnawed all the way off by a freaking shark, but let me tell you, I had never experienced pain that intense in my entire life. It was like being torn in two from the inside.

And the stupid thing was: I couldn't close my eyes for very long. It was like they were glued open. I'd shut them for a tiny bit, or when I couldn't hold them closed anymore I'd turn my head to stare at the far wall, but I always ended up looking right into Jake's eyes. And the fact that they looked exactly like my best friends, because they were my best friends, even if I knew it wasn't him behind those eyes…that's what hurt the most.

I think I had only cried out in pain once, at the beginning when he first…entered me. Controller Jake silenced me pretty quick, though, slapping a hand over my mouth that felt more like a punch in the jaw than anything. I could taste blood. He really didn't need to keep it there, I think he figured that out after a bit, either through my actions or what he learned about me from Jake's memories, because it didn't matter what situation I was in. I am a proud person through and through and this…I couldn't let anyone see this. I wouldn't call for help. I wouldn't risk anyone finding us and knowing what was happening. They would save me, which might be nice, but I didn't need saving. I couldn't get Jake off me, but I could probably handle the aftermath, and I'd deal with it a lot better if there was no danger of someone hovering over me and treating me like I'd snap in half if they said the wrong word. I went down that path with my mother's "death" and I didn't need it for this too.

The end was the worst because I felt…it…filling me. It was acid coursing through my veins to the very centre of my being. And then that knowledge that the Yeerk got not only emotional satisfaction, but physical satisfaction out of it, I died inside. It was concrete evidence of my humiliation and it burned like fire. I couldn't breathe. Well, I don't think I could breathe at any point during the whole ordeal, but now I was just left lying on the ground, gasping for air that refused to enter my lungs. I could feel hot tears pricking at the edges of my eyes. Somehow, I managed to keep them back, but the Yeerk noticed and he just smirked again.

"That was better than I thought it would be," he concluded, running one finger in lazy patterns on my chest. His eyes were glazed over in a look of pleasure, satisfaction, and pure arrogance. "Really, no better way to spend my last hours. I think this may make the fugue a little more bearable." I felt him pull out then; a sickeningly wet noise cut through the air and I squeezed my eyes shut. I could feel the mess of blood and semen pooling between my thighs. I heard the sound of spandex on skin, probably him pulling up his biker shorts, and then he roughly pulled up mine. I flinched in pain.

There was the faint rustle of bare feet on the floor, as he stepped back to observe his work. I opened my eyes, then. I wanted to sit up and stare at him defiantly, proving my resiliency and letting him know that I never surrendered. I wanted to show him that he couldn't beat me and that he couldn't break me and that I was some kind of immortal god that couldn't succumb to anything.

I'm not, though. I'm just a kid. And all I could do was roll my eyes over to stare at him and offer the fiercest glare I could. It wasn't very impressive. I was in serious pain and I felt like curling up into a ball and disappearing. I wanted the ground to open up below me and swallow me up so I'd never have to think about this or anything again. So my look of defiance was probably more pathetic than a sniveling puppy.

He didn't just smile this time. He grinned at me, that old Jake grin mixed with some kind of foreign Yeerk emotion that made my skin crawl. He calmly strode back to the chair we had given in and crossed his legs, relaxed and comfortable. He looked so utterly happy, it took all I had not to cry right there.

Don't ask me how I did it. Somehow, I managed to roll over and haul myself to my knees. I was stable for about a second, but my head started reeling and I found myself hunched over, dry heaving onto the ground. Just dry heaving because I hadn't had time to eat in the last few hours, either. There was nothing for me to throw up which was just as well because I didn't want to be dealing with that either.

And you know what that bastard yeerk did? He laughed at me. I guess I shouldn't expect more from a parasitic low life like him, but it hurt none the less. Because this wasn't some foreign, evil laugh like that of a hork bajir or even a stranger human. No, this was Jake's laugh. It was the same chuckle I heard every day I hung out with him. It was low and warm and I used to take it as a sign that I'd said something witty again. It used to be a confidence booster, really. Now it was just a reminder of what the Yeerks can do to you, and how deep this war could reach.

I shuddered as a ripple of pain passed through me and Jake's laugh waved softly through the air. I raised my head to glare at him again, but somehow he didn't wither away in terror.

"Oh, don't look so glum, Marco," he taunted me. "It was fun."

There was a moment of silence as I listened to the words he hadn't spoken. His eyes, his tone, telling me that I'd lost. He was telling me he'd just screwed us Animorphs over. Maybe he had, but I'd never let him know I thought that for even a second.

"This doesn't change a thing," I told the Yeerk finally. He looked at me knowingly, a smirk playing on the corners of his lips. His eyes ran up and down my hunched form and I instinctively drew in closer.

"Mmhm," he responded. "I'm sure it doesn't." The way he said it, like he knew something I didn't, it rattled my nerves. I wanted to spring up and wring his neck, but I obviously couldn't for various reasons.

"It doesn't," I repeated, almost confidently. My voice still wavered though. He noticed. "It'll take a lot more than that to bring any of us down."

"Oh, will it?" he quirked an eyebrow. "Because I could turn it up a notch, if you want more."

"I'll pass, thanks," I dead panned.

He chuckled that Jake chuckle, "Still making jokes, I see. I wish I could be around to see how far you get before you crack."

"Well don't hold you're breath," I quipped back. "Or maybe you can. You'll be dead in a few hours anyway."

I like it was that comment that shut him up for the next while.

More than anything, I wanted to leave, but you see, I assigned myself to this shift. I made a promise to look over Jake, and more importantly, to be there when that damn slug left his head. I was going to offer support and do all that best friend stuff you're supposed to do when your friend has been taken over by an evil parasitic thought.

Obviously, something in the plan had gone horribly awry. But I couldn't leave. I was too sore and needed a bit more time to recover, I made the promise of course, and leaving would be admitting to everyone else that something was wrong. They wouldn't know what, exactly, but they'd realize something was up pretty fast. I couldn't risk that happening.

So I stayed. And when Jake finally fell absolutely silent and got this hazy, dull look in his eye, I knew that Yeerk was dying at last. My mouth contorted into some sort of sadistic smile, even as it pained me to see Jake so lifeless like that. I held on, counting down the minutes until I had my best friend back.

And perhaps, even more than that, I was counting down the minutes until that slug dropped dead. I hoped it would fall out of his ear and struggle helplessly on the ground, the pathetic, squishy lump of grey it really was. I wanted to see that slug dissolve into nothingness. I wanted it dead more than anything, so bad that I scared myself a little, but when I fresh wave of pain and nausea swept through me again, forcing me back onto the ground, I remembered why that little parasite deserved to starve to death, and it frightened me a bit less. Only a bit, though.

I'm not sure how long I laid there. It might have been hours, though I doubt it. The Yeerk would have died by then, I think. I just, God, I just let myself drift away, sort of feeling the poke of the straw beneath my back, counting the cracks in the roof, my mind wandering into all sorts of corners. Dark, shadowy corners. But I never stayed for long because almost as soon as my thoughts reached the corners they snapped back. There were things I didn't want to think about. They were just on the edge of my consciousness and I'd have to confront them sooner or later, but I chose later.

I remember I was staring at the dark, uneven ground when it happened. I heard the noise of something shifting, the first sound I'd heard in a while, and I looked up. A twisted expression crossed Jake's face as he leaned over the in his chair and a grey slug, not six inches long dropped from his ear and onto the cracked soil, right next to a broken beer bottle. I wanted to grab that beer bottle and beat that slug for all it was worth, which wasn't a lot, come to think of it. Jake's hands trembled firecely as he grimaced in pain. I would have been running to his aid had the situation been different, but at that moment not only could I not run if a zombie had sprung up right behind me, but I was a lot more concerned with watching that stupid thing die.

And it did. It twisted into itself, writhing on the ground just like I imagined it would. And then it just withered away into nothing. That was it. The slug was gone.