Don't take your guns to town, son.

Leave your guns at home, Bill.

Don't take your guns to town.

Johnny Cash-Don't Take Your Guns to Town

It had taken hours to calm him down, and even then she wasn't certain it was over. She'd had to sedate him so much she feared she'd accidentally put him in a coma. GIR had taken him down to one of the holding chambers usually reserved for human test subjects to keep him from wreaking even more havoc if he awoke too soon.

Tak was now throwing herself into researching Irken biology and psychology, mostly from ancient texts documented before the practice of genetically removing emotions became standard protocol. It wasn't easy to acquire these discs, but it was surprising what a few choice verbal threats could make a Vortian librarian give up.

As it turned out, being away from Irk and other Irkens had resulted in some long-dormant genetic anomaly to awaken in Zim. Irkens no longer took mates, the need for two parties to be involved in reproduction long since unnecessary, but when they did there would be instances of the males going berserk if they felt another challenge for their female. In hindsight, she should have foreseen this day: for the past few weeks he'd been oddly clingy. When the boys in class would ask her questions about homework or the upcoming midterm, Zim would put his arm around her shoulders and stare down the human until he left. She would then respond by stoically pinching his hand until he withdrew it, not thinking anything of the exchange. How stupid.

Everything had come to a head when they were walking home from the mall one afternoon. A group of human males, teenagers most likely, had set their gazes on Tak. Zim had been shaking with what she now knew was barely-restrained rage when he'd pulled her closer to him. It was when the males had made inappropriate (even by Earth standards) comments about what they'd like to do to Tak that he'd snapped. He'd rushed at them, bloodlust obviously obscuring his senses. Tak had tried to pull him away before anyone saw and alerted the authorities (although the only one who showed any interest in the mauling was a passing Chihuahua carrying a half-eaten tuna), but Zim was too far gone. She'd called both GIR and Minimoose for help. GIR had just started spinning in place singing a demented version of "Daisy Bell" ("Daisy, daisy. Give me your answer do. I'm half crazy all for the love of you…"),so it was up to Minimoose to restrain his master. He put Zim in a makeshift stasis field while Tak erased the battered boys' memories. They'd raced back to the base and only just made it in the door when the stasis failed. Zim, still in his rage-blind state, had inadvertently pinned his mate against the door, still seeing the humans in his mind's eye.

"ZIIIIIIM!" she'd screamed. "It's me! It's Tak! Listen to me!" His arms slowly fell, his gaze trying to focus on her, his breathing coming in short, hard gasps. Silence presided over them for what felt like an eternity. She hated it. "Zim," she whispered, more frightened for his safety than her own. "Zim, what's happened to you?" Her hand instinctively reached up to touch his face, a gesture that they'd become more comfortable with over time. She wanted to let him know that she was there, she was real, and everything was okay.

Unfortunately, GIR had picked that moment to turn the TV to some idiotic teen drama wherein the lead male was professing his stupid love to the lead female. Zim only heard the "dump your boyfriend because we're meant for each other and the script says so", and it was enough to set him off once again. He'd attacked the screen, shattering both it and GIR's little robotic heart, while screaming, "she's MY mate! Get your own!"

Tak didn't know what else to do. She'd retrieved a high-concentrate sedative from her PAK and injected the whole thing into her mate's arm. He'd collapsed to the floor, completely unconscious, leaving Tak staring in horror at the destruction, GIR cradling chunks of his beloved TV and wailing uncontrollably. This couldn't go on. She had to find out what was wrong with Zim and figure out how to prevent it in the future...

...which led to her current situation. She couldn't keep drugging him to keep him under control, but she didn't know what else she could do. Hailing the Tallest for help would only result in their (hers and Zim's) deaths, and she was too proud an Irken to try calling anyone else. All she could hope for was a cure listed somewhere in these archaic files. So far, twenty hours of reading had only told her the most basic facts: Irken males, having claimed a mate, would fight to the death anything they viewed as a threat to that coupling, the rage would continue for an unspecified amount of time, and some taco shells could cause a skin rash (what that had to do with Irken mating she hadn't the foggiest).

"Tak," the Computer interrupted, "Zim's waking up. You want me to give him more sedative?" It punctuated the question by withdrawing several dozen syringes filled with the same greenish fluid she'd injected her mate with earlier.

She didn't miss the hopeful tone in its processed voice. "No. I'll go talk to him; see if he's really calmed down."

"Aww," the Computer whined. "I wanted to stab him."

Tak chose to ignore that remark; she had more important things to worry about. She made her way down to the holding cell where Zim was steadily regaining his senses. She ignored the Computer's and Minimoose's warnings and stepped past the force field into the small room. Seeing that he couldn't move very well just yet, she cautiously settled herself beside him and pulled his head into her lap. She waited for him to fully awaken before she spoke, absently stroking his antennae.

Zim's fingers closed around her wrist after a few minutes. "Tak..." he groaned, sounding nothing like himself.

"Yes, Zim?" At least he sounded coherent.

"That feels...nice." He snuggled closer to her, his arms going around her waist in a manner both childish and possessive. "Please don't stop."

She hesitated. Did he really just say 'please'? They really had been around humans too long. She shook her head, a small smile gracing her lips, and resumed her gentle caresses of her mate's highly sensitive antennae. It might take a while, but she'd find a way to help him through this somehow. They were mated for life; they'd find a solution together.

Perhaps if they combined threats they could get more information from that Vortian librarian.

Note: Yeah, I've got songs of all genres and ages and stuff in this little iPod ;)