[ her happiness gouges him open like nothing else could. because it's supposed to be good news, it's supposed to be victory fanfares and trumpets and parades and medals, and he'd had some of that, yeah, but hadn't been able to find any enjoyment in it. the victory had tasted like ash.

all of them would have given their left kidney to be told that they win. by the end, they were just ready for it to end one way or another, praying for it, but losing hope by the day. seeing peace slip further and further from their grasp. he'd managed it, he'd pulled it off against all odds, but—

at what fucking cost?

rachel's hand on his arm is steadying, but jake feels her touch like a burn. his other hand catches hers, traces the line of a knuckle, feels his cousin's pulse throbbing in her wrist. alive. he squeezes, once. he tries to smile reassuringly but it goes lopsided, doesn't sit right on his mouth. ]

Your mom, your sisters, my parents. They're all okay. Everyone else on the team, too.

[ there's an omission there. his dark eyes are staring into hers. steady, but it makes him look aged. old. marco had always said that, by the end, jake was an old man in a young boy's body. and even now, he's thinking— maybe he could lie. sweep it aside, save it to tell her another day. but it's written all over his face and rachel can already tell that there's something wrong; apart from marco, she's the animorph who's known him longest. ]

Rachel. You and Tom... You don't make it.

[ his grip tightens. ]