#nora robbinette

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

How do you think the Nora/Peter/Eva triangle was resolved after the war?

Honestly, I favor a world where Peter and Eva are close friends and coparents, but that's it. As much as I want to believe in them for Marco's sake, Peter implies in #15 that he liked fake!Eva better than the real thing and states outright in #45 that he'd rather be with Nora. We see Peter and Eva getting along well in #46 - #53, but we don't actually see evidence of them being together as a couple, and their rekindling is partially based on a lie Marco told about Nora.

Throw in the fact that Eva's "a different person" after being controllerified for so long (#45), one who is not particularly nice but is certainly assertive. Throw in the "disgustingly affectionate" interaction we get between Peter and Nora in #35, #40, #45. Throw in the implication that Peter had never washed a dish or swept a floor in his life before Eva "died", and that Marco had to take over those jobs for years after. I think it's better for everyone (sorry Marco) if Peter stays married to Nora after the war.

[datasnake]

It's funny: even though I knew going in that Animorphs was going to be a brutal deconstruction of the "a small group of kids save the world from alien invasion" sub-genre, I was caught by surprise when book 45 took a turn into the "kid comes up with a zany scheme to get his divorced parents back together" department and somehow became even more horrifying. I'd even go so far as to say that Marco deliberately letting Nora be enslaved is worse than any of the war crimes, because at least those had a goal beyond "try to force two people to get back together, even though their relationship is pretty much doomed because what one thinks of as 'the happiest years of their life' was literally nonstop torture for the other."

[monstrousgourmandizingcats]

I headcanon that Nora is distantly related to Biden. (Note his middle name, which was his grandmother's last name.)

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

do you think nora was always a controller? or was for a while?

Honestly?  No.

From #45, p. 60:

A police car was parked out front. The four Yeerk executioners stood casually on the sidewalk, talking to Nora.  They knew her. She knew them.

A new aggressiveness controlled her movements.

It didn't take a math prodigy to figure out what that meant.  Nora had been taken.

The fact that Marco says there’s “a new aggressiveness” to her body language and specifies then that “she had been taken” says to me that she became a controller in between Marco rescuing Peter and Peter’s “death.”  And Marco knows that, being a math prodigy and all.

Her behavior in the opening scene of #45 also seems un-contoller-ish.  Nora is eagerly on board with Peter’s project.  If she was a controller, then there are several reasonable reactions — trying to derail the project, trying to get Peter alone to infest him, trying to shut Peter up — but encouraging him isn’t one of them.

So... yeah.  Marco lies to Peter about Nora having been a controller so that his parents will get back together.  Kid’s machiavellian as fuck when he wants to be.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Every time I read #54, I notice a distinct lack of mention of Eva, Peter, and Nora. What do you think happened with them after the war?

Oh yeah, there are just way too many characters in Animorphs by the end and way too much happening in #54 for certain issues to get covered.

I’ve written loads of fic about Eva (X, X, X, X, X, X) after the war, and Peter makes cameos in a fair number of those fics.  I haven’t written much about Nora, but maybe I should because I like the character.

Sometimes in my fic Peter and Eva are together; sometimes Peter and Nora are together; sometimes none of the above are true.  It’s a sticky situation, and I appreciate that K.A. Applegate actually Goes There, because way too often characters coming back from the dead are just... seamless, sometimes even to the ridiculous and unrealistic extent of none of their stuff having been given away.  People are complicated, and it’s a painful reality that everyone else’s lives don’t just freeze in place as soon as someone they love dies.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

What is your headcanon for what happened to Nora post-series? I know we don't really KNOW if she was a controller or not but I feel Marco would have figured it out if she was. He wouldn't even date a girl in 25 without making sure and he has no idea if his stepmother is one? Regardless of what he told Peter...Like I get what he did and why to put his family back together but damn do I wonder what happened to Nora after that. So cold.

[First of all: Nora is ALMOST CERTAINLY not a controller before Marco saves Peter, and Marco is an ice-cold mofo who should be ashamed of himself.  Secondly: you have inspired a ficlet within my Eleutherophobia ‘verse; I hope you don’t mind.]

Tom gets the call about a week after Visser One’s trial ends, and raps out an automatic “Matter Over Mind, this is Tom, how can I help you?” with the receiver sandwiched between his shoulder and his ear.

“Hi,” the woman on the other end says.  “I’m not… Not a member or anything, but…”

Tom waits patiently as she continues to mumble, not in the least because he can’t be certain that this isn’t more of Loren’s Mystery Shopper routine.  She’ll sneak-attack him with the strangest requests imaginable to train him in how to respond, and he’s learned the hard way that any time Loren wants to disguise her voice, the lady can morph.

“I saw the footage of the trial on TV,” the woman says at last.  “And… And I wanted to ask about Marco Alvarez.”

Tom nearly hangs up the phone right there, because he’s had to entertain more celebrity-seeking crap than he ever wants to think about in the weeks since Matter Over Mind started generating its own press, and he’s not in the mood for more.

The only thing that stops him is the faint slur in the way that she says “Marco,” under-prounouncing that “r” sound and one or two others.  Ex-hosts display the whole range of speech impediments, from near-nonverbal communication to precise perfection.  Eva and Tom both tend to fall into the same pattern of using correct inflection at the expense of tone; many other hosts have natural rhythms but imprecise consonants or other verbal tics.  The only time Tom ever asked Steve about it over dinner, he spent the next thirty minutes nodding politely through Steve’s incomprehensible neurobabble while Jean made hmmming noises and Jake fell asleep at the table.

Whatever the cause, there’s no mistaking it.  This isn’t Loren, and it’s not a random civilian either.

Tom gives her the scripted line—“I’m afraid we don’t have much contact with Mr. Alvarez as an organization, but the number of his agent is listed online”—but tries to do so as gently as possible.  

“No, no, that’s all right,” the woman says.  “I was just… I was hoping you’d be able to tell me how he’s doing.  Whether he’s sleeping, getting enough to eat, whether he’s taking care of himself…”

And now Tom has circled right back around to wondering whether this lady is yet another Animorph-stalker, zombie or not.  He glances across the office at Eva, who is currently muttering to herself in Spanish as she balances this month’s Matter Over Mind budget, and decides against asking her for help. “May I ask who’s calling?” he says carefully.

“I knew about the nightmares already.  Marco’s, that is.  The rest of it, the trauma, the panic attacks, I probably could have guessed.  He was—he is—a good kid.  He never liked me, but that never stopped him from making an effort to be polite, to welcome me…”  She clears her throat, clearly gathering her thoughts.  “And I knew that he was sad.  That he was carrying a lot of weight, a lot of fear.  Of course, I never knew why.  Not until…”

Tom waits, but nothing else is coming.  “Until they infested you?” he suggests.  “Was that when you knew, Mrs. Robbinette?”

“Please, just Nora,” she says, apparently missing that she never gave him her name.

Of course, Tom’s no fool, and he had her for ninth-grade Algebra.  Even if he didn’t recognize her voice at first, he can put two and two together.

“What would you like to know?” he asks.  He’s hardly going to give away Marco’s address or personal number, but he’s also starting to suspect that her concern is genuine.

“I’m not looking to contact him,” Nora says hastily.  “Or Peter.  It’s… I moved to San Francisco, to get away from it all, and I don’t want to reopen old wounds, because I have a job here, and Antoine and I are…”  She clears her throat.

While waiting for her to get her thoughts together, Tom glances up and gets a jolt.  Eva is sitting with her own phone—which he can clearly see from the blinking green light is connected to the same call as his—resting lightly against her left ear.  She’s giving him her patented I wasn’t born yesterday look, somewhere between incredulity and amusement.

“Um.”  Tom scrambles for something to say to either one of them.  “Um, Mrs.—Nora?  Would you be willing to talk to E—to Mrs. Alvarez instead?”

“Would she be willing to talk to me?” Nora asks softly.

Tom glances up again.  Eva’s expression has now slid fully into amusement.

“Yes,” he says.  “Yes she would.”

“Then yes, I’d like that very much.”

Eva continues to stare pointedly at Tom until he takes a hint and hangs up his own line.  She listens for a few minutes, says, “Of course I appreciate you taking care of them, what kind of possessive bruja do you take me for?” and then laughs at whatever response she gets.

Tom does his best to focus very, very hard on the graphic design for the fresh set of pamphlets that advertise Matter Over Mind’s brand-new paid counseling services.

“Well, he has yet to learn that simply because he can buy a working jetpack off the internet, that doesn’t mean he should buy a working jetpack off the internet,” Eva says.  “I’ll spare you the description of the to-scale replica of the Millennium Falcon he’s got in his backyard, because by the end of it you’d have as many white hairs as I do.”

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

what if the ellimist showed up in 53 and gave each team member one non-war ending wish?

∙They stare at him in silence for several long seconds.

"One wish," Marco says at last. "For each of us. One wish – and we can't do anything about the war effort."

That is correct, the Ellimist says.

They all look around at each other. Tobias mutters something about «too good to be true.»

"I don't like this," Cassie says. "It's never that simple."

«I want the solution to Escafil's Paradox,» Ax blurts.

Of course. The Ellimist smiles. The covariant resonance needs to be adjusted with linear, not logarithmic, corrections for the residual decay.

Ax has already pulled out his frankensteined laptop, furiously typing notes. «Of course. With the right manufacturing capabilities, the solution is less than ten years away. But that would mean...»

The next generation of morphing cubes will be the size of city blocks, yes, he says. But nothlits who use one will be able to remain in any shape, for any length of time they so desire.

Tobias looks sharply from the Ellimist, back to where Ax is now typing at speeds no ten-fingered human could achieve. «You didn't have to do that, Ax-Man,» he says.

«There are also long-term biomedical implications,» Ax says. But he lifts his stalk eyes long enough to smile at Tobias, before going back to his notes.

"Okay, that's two wishes down, four to go," Marco announces. "Who's next?"

"Two wishes?" Rachel elbows him. "Learn to count, dummy."

Marco laughs. "Speaking of math, do you remember the name of our ninth-grade Algebra teacher?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "No, I do not. You caught me, I didn't pay attention either."

"Nora Robbinette." There's something sharp in Marco's gaze, something tight in his shoulders, as he looks around at the others. "That was her name. Jake? Cassie? You remember her?"

"Hell no." Jake holds up both hands. "I can't remember what I had for breakfast, much less anything about Ms. Whatsherface."

"A equals..." Cassie screws up her face in concentration. "M-X plus B? No wait, it's A equals B squared... plus M squared?"

"A equals M-C squared?" Jake suggests.

"Yeah," Rachel says, "safe to say Ax is the only one here who knows any Algebra."

Thankfully, Tobias interrupts this conversation. «Rachel,» he says. «Will you marry me?»

She jumps. Takes a second to glance around and make sure this isn't a prank. "Yeah," she says. "Hell yes. Let's do it."

Tobias nods. Jerks around to look at the Ellimist. «You heard it. I want my dream wedding. I want Ax officiating. Three-tier cake. At least five bridesmaids. I want all my friends there. I want pony rides and dove releases and that rice-throwing stuff.»

The Ellimist gives another enigmatic smile. Done.

"Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?" Rachel asks.

"Fiancé," Marco corrects, cackling.

Rachel turns back to the Ellimist. "My turn, then."

∙ The Ellimist takes her to the house in the suburbs. It doesn't look like much: two stories, white siding, a pool. They watch, invisible and silent, until the front door swings open.

"Mom!" the kid on the stoop yells back into the house. "I'm going out with friends!"

It's his dad who comes out to the door, resting both hands on his shoulders. "Be back by eight."

The kid sighs loudly. "Dad, you're so unfair."

"Confirm you'll be back by eight, or you're not going," his dad says.

"Yeah, okay." The kid pulls away, running down the front steps.

"Oh, and David?" His dad waits until he turns back. "I love you, kiddo."

The kid rolls his eyes, and runs off down the street.

∙ Jake says, "I want the support of the U.S. Navy—"

No.

"I want access to the nuclear codes of—"

No, Jake.

"I want my brother back, you son of a bitch."

You know I can't do that.

∙ Well? The Ellimist asks her.

Cassie looks at Marco when she gives her decision, even though Marco is looking away. "I abstain," she says flatly.

Anything you want, he says. Provided it doesn't affect the war.

"And look how well that went with the Time Matrix." She wraps both arms around herself. "Look at Jake's wish that technically got us all killed."

You're not supposed to remember that. He sounds amused.

Cassie lifts her chin at him. "You never give people what they want. Not really. I refuse to ask."

Still that look — like he's seen a small child do an impressive trick — lingers. Cassie hates that look. Very well, he says.

∙ Jake hesitates a long time, finger hovering over the bell, before he finally depresses the button.

His mom opens the door immediately, smiling down at him. "Well there you are!"

His mom, and only his mom.

Jake collapses against her. She pulls him into her arms, rocking him against her chest.

"Come on," she tells him, pulling back to wipe the tears off his face. "They're waiting."

"Yeah!" his dad calls from the next room. "I made my famous prepackaged garlic bread, and your mom put an actual food item in the oven!"

Tom's sitting next to his dad at the table. Jake sits, and it's the four of them. Only those four. For the first time in over three years.

"How long do we have?" Tom asks quietly, and a hard silence falls.

Their mom leans over to wrap her hand around his. "It's a few hours, sweetie, don't worry about it."

"So," their dad says, too hearty. "I think the Dodgers are going to go all the way this year. What about it?"

"In order for them to go anywhere, they'd need actual pitching talent," Tom drawls.

"Oh, tell me about it," their mom groans.

And for the next half hour, he does.

∙ The battle goes on. The war draws to a close.

I take it back, Jake thinks, crouched beneath the Pool ship console, listening to James and Collette and Tuan die. I want to make a different wish.

I changed my mind, Cassie concludes, watching 17,000 yeerks float in life-stealing vacuum out the Pool ship's window. I changed my mind, and I need that wish now.

Hey Ellimist, Marco thinks, when Jake says the words "no exit plan." I found something better to wish for.

Please, Tobias begs, watching Rachel fight for her life. Watching her lose. Please, please, please, let me have this wish.

I wish. Ax thinks it like a prayer, during the andalites' coolly academic debate about whether to annihilate Earth. I wish, I wish.

∙ Cassie keeps thinking it, again and again, throughout Rachel's funeral and into the dissolution of everyone she loves. She wants that wish now... but she knows, too, that she wouldn't have known what to ask if she had taken it back then.

∙ She shows up in his meadow, nearly a full year after the war. He stayed put, even though it meant more people coming from civilization to see him than he really wanted. He stayed, so that Rachel could find him.

"Okay," Rachel says, staring up at the tree. "What the hell, Tobias."

He morphs, tumbling clumsily down the branches so that he can make it to the ground and sweep her into a hug. "I asked for a dream wedding, didn't I. And the Ellimist listened."

"A dream wedding."

"It doesn't affect the war effort, does it?" He's speaking fast, face buried in her shoulder. "Nothing to do with the war. Only, see, it can't be a wedding unless you're there. And it's illegal to get married or officiate in California under age eighteen. So you and me and Ax all had to live that long. I said I want all my friends there. I said stuff about a bunch of planning. So really he had no choice, but to ensure we all made it through the war."

"That... sounds like a load of hooey," Rachel says at last. "But exactly the kind of hooey you would pull. The kind he would pull."

"Of course." Tobias's innocent expression, just for a second, looks exactly like the one the Ellimist wears. "He can't contradict his own promise, now can he? He's got no choice."

"Five bridesmaids, huh?" Rachel asks. She's still hanging onto him, him to her. That's not changing anytime soon. "We don't have five female friends."

"Yeah, we're going to have to slap dresses on Jake and Marco, use your sisters to fill the ranks. Didn't really think that one through."

"Rice throwing? A pony?"

Tobias winces. "I don't know what weddings are like!"

You can practically see the party-planning wheels turning behind Rachel's eyes. "You asked for a dove release."

"Okay, that one I don't regret." Tobias grins. "Domestic pigeons are delicious."

They sit down there on the forest floor, giggling from the sheer giddiness of each other's presence, for a very long time.

Yes, Tobias thinks, in case the Ellimist is listening. The answer is yes.