Author's Note: Happy second fan-iversary to me! Here's my second fan-iversary fic.
Disclaimer: Jhonen Vasquez and Nickelodeon own Invader ZIM and related stuff. I just own Halley.
Tides
Open fire. Venomous glares. Bludgeons flying through the air. A tar-surfaced battlefield. Unrestrained armed combat.
A particular extra-terrestrial, under the poorly rendered guise of a human child, stood off to one side, baffled that the very young members of the human race engaged in a more vicious combat simulation than his own planet's most elite soldiers did in their training. And these Earth children willingly participated in this mock-battle daily.
Zim referred to this activity as "sanctioned combat tactic training".
The humans called it "recess".
And today, the form of armed warfare the children had chosen was the one Zim dreaded the most—dodgeball.
He was now certain that he could rely on the fledgling monkeys to unanimously agree on that accursed game only on a day when he least wanted them to. And now, as the hardened and well-trained Irken warrior pinned himself to the fence in terror at the inflated rubber projectiles, the idea struck him that maybe these young Neanderthals were telepathic.
'No, no, these lumbering oafs don't even know how to recalibrate the transistors on a simple inter-dimensional quantum teleporter,' he reassured himself, 'They could never possess any para-psychological ability.'
No sooner had the thought finished crossing his mind than a misfired ball landed in front of him and rolled to his feet. As if it were a grenade about to go off, Zim shrieked at the top of his squeedily spooch.
A few children whirled around in alarm, only to be pummeled by those of the opposing team who had already looked and seen no cause for concern. One agile boy, evading several dodgeballs as he moved towards Zim, cautiously whipped his head around for an instant to be sure he was nearing the ball at Zim's feet. When the coast seemed clear for the moment, he bent down and snatched the awful thing from the ground. Catching sight of Zim's trembling knees, he looked the other "human child" in the eye and raised a brow.
"What the heck's wrong with you?"
"Mind your own business, fellow dirt-piglet!" Zim snapped.
As the child rushed back into the game, the alien felt his mouth grow dry. What had the Earthling meant by "What the heck's wrong with you?" Was it the frightened look about Zim? Or had the boy somehow heard the alien's mind screaming 'Don't throw it at me! Go away!'? Zim tried to tell himself again that humans weren't nearly intelligent enough, but…what if…what if they didn't have to be? What if telepathy was a mainly inborn ability, like breathing? But no…no, it couldn't be…or at least the humans weren't aware of it…for if they were, what was the need for telephones? Zim was certain that none of the children at the skool, at least, believed in anything paranormal in nature. None of them except…
The invader's contact-lens-clad eyes shot across the playground to the lone picnic table on the opposite side. Seated at one side of the table and turned outwards from it was the human called Gaz, a handheld game in her lap demanding her closest concentration. Zim craned his neck to look past her, where he saw exactly whom he expected to be sitting directly behind her. The pompous Irken hated all humans with a passion, but he now sneered across the playground at the one he loathed most deeply. Dib sat on the farther side of the table, turned inwards to in and contently reading a book placed on the surface. This human may possibly be the firmest believer in the paranormal, so…could…he…?
As if hearing Zim's inner worries, Dib lifted his head slightly and glanced around, but quickly ducked. He narrowly missed the ball thrown towards his head. Hence the reason he kept behind his sister during recess on dodgeball days. Making it clear that he wasn't' playing never shielded the boy from being thrown at, but he found that staying behind Gaz warded off any and all round rubber attacks. No one ever dared to risk hitting Gaz. That would ruin her concentration on her game—which she did not take well—on top of enraging her by hitting her on the head with something.
Zim shuddered at the very thought of the consequences for angering the girl so badly, and he almost wished he were over there hiding behind her. But that would mean going to a human for help, something Zim had sworn to himself he would never do. It also meant sharing a safe haven with a human, and with Dib of all humans…
But those thoughts weren't related to the matter at hand, he decided. His prime concern at the present moment was, were humans truly capable of hearing thoughts? If so, what all did they know about the alien invader? Did they know about his true identity? About his base? His plans? His home planet? Were they just playing dumb to toy with him? Maybe Dib was their spy, the one whom Zim was convinced no one believed, and thus Zim saw no danger in telling him everything…
Hands shaking, the Irken struggled to pull himself together. He would do a study after school and not worry about the whole thing until then. Just as he was regaining his composure, a rubber ball struck him in the face.
Rubbing his nose—or the area of his face that contained his olfactory sensors—Zim muttered barely audible obscentities in Irken as he stomped up and down the beach that lay minutes from the outskirts of town. He dragged a large burlap sack behind him, for the purpose of holding the seashells he paused every so often to snatch from the ground the humans would mistake these actions for that of a normal human hobby, and it made the little alien swell with pride that no one would suspect otherwise. He silently praised himself repeatedly for his ingenious cover and even more ingenious plan. The plan? To collect numerous seashells which would be broken down for their key minerals and used to power his new device that was designed to detect any transfer and exchange of alpha waves among human brains. It was a simple matter of magnetism and highly sensitive infrared data ports, as well as some basic implements of cheddar cheese; but of course GIR had failed to understand, and Zim's computer had fallen asleep, and so Zim was left with no one to appreciate his sinister plot. Perhaps this was a bit more complex, but GIR had not even been able to comprehend Operation: Fishbowl.
Clenching his fist to vent the frustration, Zim continued tossing shells of every shape and size into the bag. But, in the partial attention he paid to this, he grabbed one that had just been washed ashore. The fiery sting the moistness sent through his hand reminded him that he had not bathed in paste before setting off to the beach. To make matters worse, this was saltwater. Zim screeched in agony, and then whimpered and cradled the injured hand, trying desperately to wipe it dry with the edge of the burlap sack. Curse that wretched water. To think that it could soak through even Zim's most insulated gloves…
It was then that he happened to look up and see a group of alarmed human faces nearby.
The disguised invader gave them a sheepish smile. "Er, stupid hermit crab!" He pointed accusingly at the seashell. "You dare clamp your filthy claws down on the might hand of Zim!"
Glancing back at them, he realized that the humans had not budged. Zim blinked and fidgeted.
"Um, I'm normal!" he assured them.
Looking relieved, the humans smiled, nodded, and went about their business again.
The Irken snickered. "Fools," he mumbled to himself, turning back to the wet shell. But just as he crouched down and began to pat it dry with the edge of the sack, a shadow fell over the ground.
Zim looked up only in time to see the rising wave crash down upon him. The water then slid back to where it had come from, but not empty-handed. Taken by surprise, and being a very light-weight creature, Zim easily lost his footing and was swept off by the undertow. Mind reeling from the searing pain the saltwater produced, he was only halfway aware that he was being carried too far from shore. The powerful waves whipped him back and forth like a child throwing a temper tantrum on a doll. Zim was panicking, his skin was burning—and he couldn't swim. His limbs nearly paralyzed by pain; he thrashed them around as best as he could. Each time he tried to scream, though, he was met with a stinging mouthful of the water. His body had been mostly numbed by now, and at one point or another, it was finally unable to go on.
As he drifted out of consciousness, something in Zim's head whispered 'Zim…drowning…?'
Time was frozen. Zim was in a mental limbo. He may have been there for an eternity. He didn't know, nor did he care. But somewhere in that standstill a distant voice rang out:
"Breathe…!"
he sensed a faint pressure somewhere…his chest? Did he still have a chest? Did he still have any part of his body?
"…eathe…!"
Could he comply? Raising his chest the slightest bit only brought a smothering ache.
"B…ea…!"
'I…can't…!' his mind wailed. Another pressure on his chest.
"Breathe!"
His face—another pair of lips pressed onto his. Warm air rushed down his throat.
He still couldn't breathe—some obstruction—
Another chest compression, and the deadly seawater shot up his throat and out of his mouth. He burst into coughing, he was lifted into a sitting position, a hand patted him on the back…
He was alive…but still in pain…he drifted off to sleep…
Some unmeasured time later, he groggily awoke. His eyes inched open and beheld the concerned face of a woman hovering over him. Instinctively he swiped at her and spat out some half-discernible threat.
"Wow, such energy," the human laughed, "You seem like you're feeling better."
Zim sat up slowly, and a cotton towel fell from his shoulders. He was on a bed, in some Earthling's dwelling, and the female knelt on the end of the mattress.
"I was drying you off," the woman explained, "Water seemed to really hurt you."
A pang of worry struck him. Having such an adverse effect to mere seawater was…abnormal.
"I—I—it was just—what am I doing here anyway?"
"Well, once I got you to breathe again, I had to hide you somewhere," the woman said nonchalantly, "and I lived nearby--"
"Hide me from what?" Zim demanded, growing agitated with her wistful tone.
"The humans," she half-smiled, "Who else?"
Zim raised an eyebrow. "But…but we're humans, too."
The woman giggled. "Well I am," she pointed to a small mirror near the bedside, "You don't seem to realize what you lost in the tide."
Zim turned to look at it, and jumped at what he saw. A pair of antennae. Two bulbous red eyes. He was out of disguise…in the presence of a human.
His eyes shot back to her. "This is not what it looks like! I'm normal! Perfectly normal!"
"I'm sure you are," the woman slid off of the bed and stood, "on your planet."
Zim prepared to defend his "normality" further, but paused. "Wait—why do you not fear me…?"
She shrugged and crossed the room to a dresser and took a plate from it. "Do you really think you look that frightening?"
Zim's face took on the expression of being deeply insulted. "Fool! Foolish, pitiful human! Do you not know who you speak to? I am the mighty Invader Zim!"
The human sighed with a smile. "And I am the mighty Real Estate Agent Halley! Now, how would you like some bread?"
He glared at her. "You rescued Zim so you could poison him?"
"That water might damage your stomach. Bread is like an edible sponge."
Zim clutched at his stomach. It was true that something wasn't feeling right. Either he took the chance of the bread killing him or the water would kill him. Hesitantly, he took the bread.
"You rescued Zim…" he repeated, and looked at her questioningly.
Halley pursed her lips a little. "Uh…yeah…"
"You knew I was an alien…"
She raised a confused brow. "What are you getting at?"
Zim looked downwards. "You know I could kill you if I wanted…"
"I thought that maybe you could," Halley said simply.
"I'm an alien, I could kill you, and you…saved…my life?" Zim reiterated, meeting her eyes again.
She tilted her head slightly. "I'm not sure I see your point."
"Why?" Zim asked, "Why would you even consider…why would you give it a second thought?"
Halley shook her head. "Why not?"
A silence fell over the two, and Zim soon occupied himself with studying his now half-eaten slice of bread.
The next words to come from the human surprised him, but he wasn't sure why.
"You don't know mercy, do you?"
He didn't know how to answer. "Don't play mind games with me, human."
Halley looked slightly amused. "Mind games?"
Zim's eyes narrowed. "Yes, mind games. Don't start thinking they will work on me. Irken invaders spend seventy-five years of training in psychological warfare alone."
"Seventy-five years, eh?" the human smiled, "You must have quite a lifespan."
The alien's expression loosened. "Well…don't you?"
Halley shrugged. "Eighty to a hundred years, usually. The invader of Earth never learned the human lifespan?"
Zim would have normally taken insult, but he ignored it. "You only live that long?"
She smiled softly. "Why else would we be always rushing to get things done?"
Zim almost returned the smile. "I had always thought that you somehow sensed that you were behind in development compared to most other planets."
The woman chuckled a little. "Yes, there's never enough time to get everything done in just those many years, but I guess a shorter time to live makes you value life more."
Zim paused for a long time, and then breathed a deep sigh. "I think this has been the strangest afternoon of my life," he told the ground as he climbed out of bed.
"Well, seeing how many years you've lived, I guess that's saying something," Halley smiled.
"Now I guess I have things to get done as well," he started for the door, but hesitated and turned back. Swallowing deeply, he looked the human in the eye.
"Thank you."