Saving Zim by Dib07

Summary:

When you had it all. When old age forces you to change. When life isn't what you'd imagined. When you aren't prepared to be so powerless. When a soldier's undetermined future remains his greatest fear.

Warnings:

Zim Angst. Violence, language and distressing scenes.

Blocks of text in italics means that it's a flashback.

Disclaimer:

I do not own the IZ characters. However this story and this idea is mine. Cover art lovingly designed and drawn by TheCau.


A/N:

You'll have to excuse me for any minor changes! I am tidying up the few chapters I can get round to, and adding some extra tiny bits I had earlier removed.

When you get here Piratemonkies64, this chapter (even though it's an old chapter, and holds nothing special) is dedicated to you, as will many, many more! Have an awesome day!


CHAPTER 7: A Night Out

The little Irken blinked, opening his eyes when he felt a presence. He turned, thinking it to be the Dib worm. He did not know why his mind first thought of him. It was stupid. But when he looked, he shrunk back and screamed, his head hitting the wall in his violence to get away. Gir was standing silently by the incubation pod, his eyes a fearsome blood red.

He flung out a flustered screech of terror as he sat up, his good eye wide as he looked here and there for Gir. He had kicked his heater blanket away from his legs and he scanned the room several times.

There was no robot.

There was no Gir.

Doubling over with coughs, Zim tried to breathe easy. The room was just as he had left it. Everything was still sealed – the doors were all in lock-down, and the laser wall was fully operational. He was alone. It had just been a nightmare, one of many.

"Master," the computer spoke from above, its words issuing from an intercom system not unlike what the humans used, "you have two missed calls, and one recorded message. One proximity alert went off when a human used the doorbell. But then they vacated the vicinity."

"Anything else?" Zim asked as he sat in his incubator, still feeling dazed from his nightmare. Had Gir annihilated the rest of his base? Would he step out of his resting chamber, only to be confronted by burning rubble?

"No, Master. The Tallest haven't called, and nothing else has transpired. The base hasn't been breached and all systems are operational."

"And what of Gir? My S.I.R unit? Where is he located?"

"In the front living room, watching the TV."

"And what of my delivery from the Tallest? What is its status?"

"Currently enroute. Expect it within twelve hours."

Zim nodded. He had to survive twelve more hours. He could do that.

He made his way out of the incubator. Thanks to the gel he had applied last night, his arm's damaged tissue was mending. The outside flesh had more or less fused together, but the muscle and sinew was still being repaired. As for his eye, he decided to keep the padding on.

His belly would just have to remain looking... swollen. He had too many other things to worry about right now.

He removed his warm thermal wear and slipped on a fresh uniform. Then after he was done eating a sandwich for breakfast he decided to risk leaving his resting chamber. There was no way he was cowering in it for the next twelve hours. He was an invader, and he had to keep reminding himself of this. He could not let a single S.I.R unit ruin his day. Besides, he had no idea what time it was, and how long he had slept for.

Taking the elevator, or what he liked to call 'the conduit,' he rose to the top floor and emerged out into the kitchen. On the clock on the wall it read eight thirty in the morning. He had slept all afternoon and all night. It had been the longest he had ever slept.

Just as promised, Gir was indeed watching TV: the Scary Monkey show to be exact. They were currently airing their 18th season of the show. Why humans watched such toddle he would never know. But Gir loved it. In his lap he was eating nachos and licking the crumbs off his hands. When Zim entered, he looked over and grinned widely. "Hiya there. Yous wanna watch wit' me?"

"No, Gir. I have things that need doing. Who called?" He asked croakily.

"Mary called!"

"Mary?"

"You know. That one with the big head."

The lounge was a mess from the night before. Ripped plaster hung in tatters, and some of the couch was ripped. It looked like a bulldozer had paid them a visit.

Zim, keeping one eye on his S.I.R unit, walked over to the phone and picked up the receiver. 'You have one new message.' Said the automated response. He hit the 'play' button to listen to the message and turned up the volume. He had never been very good hearing the words spoken through the line.

Dib's husky voice could suddenly be heard through the speaker in the phone. "Hey there, Zim. I came over earlier today to introduce you to a very special someone. I know you don't like anyone 'strange' near your base, so I decided to talk to you about it first, but you weren't there I guess. Out walking Gir again? Or are you busy planning the end of the world?" There was a pause. Zim waited. "You there, Zim? Come on. You never miss a phone call. Well, I guess it is ten o'clock and it is pretty dark out. Well, call me back later, will you? Her name's Clara by the way, and I think you'll like her. Well, bye."

'End of message.' Intoned the robotic voice speaker. 'You have no new messages.'

He placed the phone back down on its receiver.

So Dib's finally found a partner.

Dib was growing up – or rather - had already grown up. And he had achieved it all, in the blink of an eye. Zim missed the old Dib, he supposed. But then, this new man who looked like Dib, and smelled like Dib, was okay too. Ten years ago, and Dib wouldn't have 'rescued' him from his base and taken care of his grave injury. Ten years ago, and Zim was still openly at war with him.

Things have changed so soon, behind their backs, and now everything was upside down.

And now Dib had a 'girl' 'friend.' Soon he'd be off, reproducing, and adding to the vast number of humans on this rotten planet. He'd be a father. And he'd leave Zim behind. After all, what place did he have, an alien, when Dib had little children to look after and protect?

It made him feel angry.

It made him want to break something.

I should have destroyed this planet a long, long time ago. Then none of this would matter!

Then he looked over at Gir, and felt like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Tell Dib. Tell him about Gir. Before something else happens. Before he goes and reproduces.

"No!" He angrily spat, arguing with his own thoughts. No! He couldn't. Dib may be unpredictable too, and dismantle or even disable Gir. There was a chance the human might not even care, or even believe Zim. But, BUT there was a high chance of Dib destroying Gir to save Zim. And living a life without that foolish robot wasn't even worth thinking about. Besides, it was Zim's problem alone. He was the alien, and it was his robot that was causing the trouble.

Besides which, what if Gir killed Dib?

Ha ha! He should think. So what? One less human to cache into the dungeon. One less obstacle in his way. One less fool to look upon.

If only that were so.

He and Dib were at odds yes, but he also liked to believe they were allies on some level. If Dib wanted Zim captured, he could have done it a hundred times by now. And if he had wanted Dib dead, he could have done that a hundred times. And then of course, there was that accursed promise that bound them utterly because of that wire.

So, Zim didn't want any tragic accidents or deaths either way. If he was the one to lose, then he would accept it, so long as Gir or Dib did not get hurt. So Gir's episodes had to remain a secret.

Then Dib could go on, and spawn as many children as he bloody well liked.

As for Gir, he needed to devise a cage until the delivery of the special parts arrived. But instructing Gir to do anything might trigger him to go berserk.

"You want some coffee, Gir?" He asked, for now wanting to be platonic. Even the Irken himself needed a little 'pick me up' from his long sleep.

"Oooh I'd love a coffee!" He said, barely pausing from his nacho-munching. On the TV screen, the Scary Monkey was swinging from some handle bars, snarling at the viewer.

Zim roamed about in the kitchen, trying to come up with ideas for this possible cage-in-the-making while hashing up some coffee. In the middle of his preparations, the computer alerted him when the proximity alarm went off.

"Probably that infernal postman AGAIN!" The invader yelled. "I told him to stop spamming junk mail through MY letterbox! I don't want Earth trash!"

He stormed to the door, throwing on his disguise in haste. He could only fit on one eye contact, for his damaged Irken eye was still covered in padding.

He got to the door and threw it open using his good hand in his usual angry manner. "Yes?" He barked. Then he blanched. Dib was waving warmly at him on Zim's porch, wearing a thin, apologetic smile. Beside him was a complete stranger. She smelled different, and he at once disliked the smell. Her hair was long and brown, and her eyes were a glistening amber, much like the Dib's. She was wearing a fluffy winter coat and boots, and her smile too was uncertain.

"Urm, hi there, Zim." Dib began, looking far more nervous than he ever usually did when he and Zim were together. "You didn't answer my call. I hope this is okay. I wanted to introduce you to Clara. Did... did you have another accident again? You... you look a bit..."

"Befuddled. I know." Zim answered for him. He stepped out into the wintry sunlight and pulled the door almost to a close behind him to hide the mess of the lounge. Then he eyed up Clare with military precision. He reminded himself that he had to be polite, if this was indeed Dib's future mate, so he put on a smile. It came out like a pained grimace. He also hid his bad arm at his back. He didn't want to be caught out, and he couldn't afford Dib's suspicion. The Dib human wasn't all that dumb and he would try to guess. Try to know. And Zim hated nosy humans.

Remembering human custom, he put out his good hand for her to shake. He tried not to recoil too much when she took his hand in hers and shook. "I'm Zim. Dib's very human friend. Because we're so very normal."

"So glad to meet you! I'm Clara. Dib's told me a lot about you."

"Ah yes." They parted hands, and Zim wiped the hand she had touched against his uniform as if Clara harboured a deadly disease. He looked to Dib. "So, you have finally chosen a mate for reproduction. Tell me, how long does it take for a human worm baby to gestate?"

Dib visibly paled as if he had just been stabbed from behind. Zim grimaced worriedly, wondering what on Irk he could have said wrong. Then Dib nervously began to chuckle. "Zim likes to joke," he said to Clara as she looked on, evidently confused, "he's not from around here, so his humour is quite... strange."

On cue: "Where are you from, Zim?" She asked.

He grew a little nervous. He hated it when he had to think fast. "Um! England! Yes! They're um... crazy over there! And very normal. Yes. I am Englandish."

Luckily that seemed to pull a funny cord with Clara, for she started laughing. Zim watched on, terribly nervous. He always was nervous around anyone who wasn't Dib. But he started laughing too, not sure exactly what was so funny.

"Oh Zim. Always with the jokes." Dib said. "So yeah, Clara and I are... going out. Together. It's only thanks to you, Zim. You gave me the confidence the other night. So I rang her up and we just started talking. Then we found out how much we had in common."

"So, no babies yet?" Zim asked innocently enough.

Dib was so tempted to slap gaffer tape over his mouth. "Babies, Zim? No, gosh no! What is it with you and babies? Anyway, we're going out tonight to the Rooster. You wanna come along?"

Dib looked sure to have him. Meanwhile, Clara looked between them, looking nervous yet somehow happy.

The Irken pondered, frowning. If Dib wanted to mate, why bring him along? Copulation was purely a private affair, unless Dib was just nervous, and wanted to have a friend along to soften the anxiety.

But Zim wasn't sure. Leaving Gir alone too long, unsupervised was just plain mad. And he had a messy lounge to clean, if his joints could handle it.

"When is this... copulation ceremony at the Rooster?"

"Zim!" Dib winced this time, looking hotly embarrassed. A flush was even starting to rise in his cheeks. "It's just a dinner! A nice, friendly dinner! So we can get to know each other better!" Then he discreetly mouthed the words to Zim: 'stop embarrassing me!'

Zim lightly coughed, feeling awkward. "Is it tonight?"

"Yeah. At nine o'clock. I can come and pick you up."

The alien was once again thrown back. Why did Dib even want him around?

Humans, he decided, were overly complicated creatures when it came to sexual rituals. "Very well. I shall try to be available. I'm sure this Clara... will enjoy our company very... very much!"

Now Dib was grimacing as he smiled. "Well, take care Zim. And please stop having accidents." He added, charting up Zim's latest eye injury to another innocent mishap. Then they did a little wave and headed back down the path to the main sidewalk.

"Yes yes. Off with you." Zim waved them off, walked back inside, closed the door and tore off his disguise.

Humans! Now, where's my coffee?

-x-

Zim however, grew heavily reluctant to leave when nine o'clock fast approached. He didn't like leaving his base at the best of times for 'social gatherings.' Irkens did not have social gatherings, unless the elders gathered them together for a strategic plan or some opening ceremony before or after a war/operation. Irkens did not socialize or 'become' friends with one another. So when Dib invited him to this evening dinner with a complete stranger, he detested agreeing to it. It reminded him of that prom night in high school not long before he quit. He and Dib just stood at the boundary of the event all night, looking terribly out of place. It had been one of the longest nights Zim had ever suffered.

He removed the bandage over his eye, oiled it with special Vortian lotion, and slipped his human contacts into place, along with fitting his wig over the top of his antennae. The lotion stung, and he blinked viciously, trying to endure the discomfort. At least his eye was healing, unlike the wound in his side that still needed treating. He could be done with it and cauterize the wound as standard, but he wasn't sure how much internal damage was still healing, and he didn't want to block up anything in case he developed an infection.

His arm he experimentally flapped up and down, and the actions did not invite any undue pain.

He was pleased with his quick recovery.

Before long, at exactly nine o'clock, Zim heard a car beeping its horn outside. He flung his arms into his coat and slipped a scarf around his little neck. Gir looked up from the ripped couch, wearing his doggy uniform, even though Zim hadn't given him the order to wear it. For some reason, Gir looked less menacing in that doggy suit. Opposite him, the TV flashed the latest news headlines. "You goin' out? Can I come?" He asked sweetly.

"No, Gir. It's just a stupid little... gathering. For Dib and his selected mate. Irk knows why he wants me, ZIM! To come along! But I suppose I'll just humour him, and learn more about this... copulation process. Who knows? Maybe he wants me along so he can keep an eye on me. Well, so long Gir. And don't do anything stupid."

"All right!"

Zim opened the door. It was particularly gusty out, and he had to keep a hand on his wig to keep it from flying off in the wind. The car was waiting for him. It was Dib's blue car with the black trim.

Already he could see the two humans sitting up at the front. When they caught eyes, Clara waved up a hand to him. Zim saluted back.

The drive was quite short and uneventful. Zim sat at the back, his seatbelt strapped almost across his face due to his littleness. When they arrived, Dib parked and then they walked on over to the Rooster. It was dark and still windy, but inside the bar it was warm and brightly lit. The booths were reasonably empty, and Zim chose the one nearest the back where he could sit next to the window. The whole time, Zim kept a suspicious eye on the human pair, wondering what they were up to, and what his possible involvement could mean. He relaxed slightly however when he saw just how nervous the Dib was. He stuttered when he spoke, which he never normally did, and his skin looked clammy with sweat. He was very clumsy too, often spilling his diet poop and dropping the menu several times. It seemed to Zim that the more Dib interacted with Clara, the more he stumbled with his words and the clumsier he became. If this was 'love,' than Zim was pretty sure he was lucky not to suffer such an affliction.

He sipped a little of his tea, and listened to the humans talk trivialities. Whenever Clara's attention fell on him and asked questions about his life, he felt like he was dodging bullets with her. He pretended that he was an unemployed wormbaby, looking for work in the shambles of human society. When she asked him if he had any family, he said yes, he had his two parents who lived with him.

"So, what are your hobbies?" Was Clara's latest hurdle for him to overcome.

"Hobbies?" He returned nervously, swallowing hard.

"Yes. What are you good at?"

"Urm. Designing stuff for... stuff! You know! Like... um, nuclear weapons to help with... the human crisis?"

"Oh!" All evening she had looked perturbed whenever he answered one of her questions. Dib didn't look that concerned. He just shrugged at him. It irked Zim a little. But then, he knew by now not to rely on Dib. Humans did not help aliens, and vice versa.

"Yeah. I'm a sponsor for... world peace!" He ended at last, trying to dig himself out of the corner he had ended up in.

"Neat! I always think what the government is doing is pretty crazy. We need more people like you to give the people a voice. Well done!" Clara said. Now it was Zim's turn to look perturbed. But in the end, he gave her one of his worried smiles, hoping she'd swing her attention back to Dib. Instead, she excused herself and went to the restroom.

While she was gone, Dib leaned forwards across the table and said, "So? What do you think of her?"

"Well, is she applicable?"

Dib had to look at him twice. "Applicable? What does that mean?"

"You know... appropriate for your... needs?"

"Zim, she's not livestock. She's a human being. And I love her."

There was that word again.

Love.

Zim couldn't get his head round it. Was it something you suffered from? Something you felt? Something that hurt? Once, long, long ago, he had loved once, or thought he had loved. It was maternal love, for a parent that didn't exist. As soon as he was brought into existence, he had wanted to love. He had wanted to be coddled, for that Irken instinct remained despite their programmed way of life. Then he quickly realized that he had no parents, had no family and never would. From then on he had hardened himself, or else be consumed with loneliness.

"That's your problem, Zim. You don't care about anyone. So of course you wouldn't understand." Dib continued as he ran a finger down the glass of his diet poop, creating a mark in the condensation.

Zim sneered at him crossly. "I do! I care about Gir!"

"It's not the same thing. Besides, he's a robot. He isn't real!"

Just as he was about to retaliate with a reply, Clara came back. Zim decided to drop the argument. He had forgotten what it was he had wanted to say, or what they were even arguing about. Then, just before their meal arrived, Dib decided that they should make a toast. "To the future!" Dib said, and Clara clinked glasses with him. Zim observed their ritual, and added his glass to the toast, even if he found this whole ceremony to be idiotic and senseless.

Their main meals arrived.

Zim had ordered dessert and a large cup of coffee as his main. He had eaten human ice cream before, and its frozen composition didn't give him an allergic reaction. Probably because there were less toxins and bacteria in it than most other human foods.

Clara found it amusing that he had ordered a dessert and not a hot meal for his main course. "Why did you order that, Zim? Didn't like what was on the menu?"

Zim paused, the spoon filled with cream and cherries half way to his mouth. He lowered it, looking stricken with guilt as if he had just been caught stealing. "I... I already ate!" Was the only lame excuse he could come up with. He was getting really tired of this inquisition lately.

Clara looked baffled. "But you knew you were coming out to eat with us."

"Um, yeah. Urm." He was running out of ammunition. It wasn't long before he cracked, and said something to her that would upset her, or worse, reveal his true identity.

But this time, Dib bailed him out. "He doesn't eat all that much. I know I don't. Besides, I think having dessert instead of a main isn't a bad idea."

Zim sighed in relief which caused some coughing and he started tucking into his ice-cream sundae. Clara was eating some fish food concoction that smelt awful, and Dib was snacking on a burger and fries. When he was half way through his sundae, he noticed that the table had begun to rock from side to side. The conversations he could hear from Clara and Dib sounded muffled, and distant, as if he was trapped behind a glass wall. He looked up, suspecting that something was wrong. When he did, he suddenly felt light-headed and dizzy. The voices continued to sound distorted and muffled.

Must be feeling a little... ill. He thought, rationalizing this sensation because he had eaten too much ice cream. So he tried to push through it, thinking it would pass. But the table continued to tilt, making him feel like he was drifting through space in his Voot without its stabilisers engaged.

Even Dib was looking at him funny.

The sensation did not alleviate itself, and Zim felt panic rise in his heart. Instantly he wanted to be alone, wanted to hide any weakness before it showed itself.

"Um, need to use the toilet or whatever. Bye!" And he slipped down from the booth and hurried towards the far reception area where there were restroom doors symbolising different genders. He pushed through the door that was labelled 'MEN.'

"Unusual friend you have." Clara spoke up, chewing on the last of her salad. "Can I ask a question?"

"Sure, go ahead." He wiped his lips on the napkin provided.

"Why does he have green skin? And how come he's so... small? Is he a dwarf?"

He's an alien. He wanted to say so badly. And maybe she'd believe him. And maybe she wouldn't. Regardless, he didn't want their studies of the paranormal to get between them. He wanted to keep work separate. After all he didn't want his childhood days of being called 'crazy' to come back to haunt him. This was his new life now and he couldn't afford to fuck it up again. He didn't want to be alone all his life. He wanted a family. And Zim could be a part of it, or he could keep to himself. Because Zim didn't matter anymore.

"He just has this skin condition," he heard himself say on autopilot, "had it since we went to school together. And yeah, as for his size, I suppose he's got some stunted growth issues."

"Is he... sick?"

"No. Why? He just has a cough."

She pushed her plate away – much of it had been eaten, and she sipped delicately from her wine. Dib tried not to keep staring at her. Her wrists were so small and sweet, and she was beautiful in that skimpy black dress. She wore red lipstick that went well with black too. Her hair had been curled into bunches, and her eyelashes were long and elegant. Being with Zim made him less nervous, but he was still a stuttering wreck. He felt a little guilty, bringing Zim out with them just so that he wouldn't be all alone with her, but so far the evening was going well. One day he'd have the confidence to go out with her, just the two of them. Just, not today.

"Shall we order coffee? I don't really fancy a dessert." She said, looking over towards Zim's melting sundae.

"Me neither. Yeah, let's go for coffee." They ordered when the waiter returned to take away their plates, and Dib ordered Zim another coffee, since he wasn't there to order. When the waiter scurried away again, Dib pulled back his chair and left the table. "I'd better head on over to the restroom as well. That diet poop went straight through me."

-x-

The floor continued to sway, and Zim sensed that he was losing his balance. It felt like he was on a wobbly bridge held together with nothing but fraying rope.

Eventually he made it to the toilet stall and shut the cubicle door behind him, flipping the latch as he did so.

His little legs were shaking.

I've... I've been poisoned! By the Dib! I must have! Why else am I like this?

He didn't want to sit down anywhere – even though the toilet seat and stall were relatively clean – he still saw it as filthy. But, in the end, weakness overcame him, and he squatted down on the toilet stall floor, woozy and faint. He brought up a hand to his mouth as he coughed and coughed. His chest burned with each one.

Must be a cold, perhaps. A human cold. I feel... strangely hot... and then cold. What's happening to me?

This was the last thing he needed.

He cursed quietly, hugging his arms to his chest. He wanted to be home, all snuggled and in the warm.

He was just about to rest his head on his knees when the main door to the restroom clicked open. Zim froze, trying to listen with his cramped antennae beneath his wig. He stiffened upright, eyes wide.

Dib entered the restroom, finding it surprisingly empty and quiet. No one else seemed to be here. He liked it that way. So he quickly relieved himself at the urinal, noticing in the mirror in front of him that one of the toilet cubicle doors was closed.

After relieving himself, he did up his fly and washed his hands. Then, against his better judgement, he peered beneath the cubicle door to see a familiar pair of black boots and Zim's lower half as he sat on the floor besides the toilet.

Dib straightened again, confronting the closed cubicle. He was puzzled. What was Zim up to? Dib knew how much of a germaphobe the Irken was. And he was in there, sitting on the dirty restroom floor like a drunk.

"Zim?" He asked softly. "It's me. You okay in there?" It was an honest enough question and Zim did not need to know that he had peered under the gap to see what he was doing. After all, it was not hard to decipher that it was just Zim in there, with the rest of the room being empty.

There was a shuffling of feet and a string of incomprehensible curses: most likely in Irken. Then the words spluttered into intelligible English. "Oh yes, Zim is perfectly fine. Why wouldn't I be? I was just... eh... urinating! Is that what you humans call it when you mitigate your water?"

Dib heard him flushing the toilet. Just as he opened the cubicle door, the human had moved back to the sinks to assess the state of his hair.

A tide of feverish dizziness stalled Zim, and he hesitated for a moment before strengthening his resolve and coming over to his human. He did not wash his hands, which was just as well, because the sinks were too high for him to reach. Instead he produced his own Irken soap, more aptly called 'cleansing chalk.' He started rubbing his hands all over it.

"You look... pale." Dib noticed, giving him a brief look.

"And you look white. So what?"

"I'm so nervous, Zim. Clara's beautiful. Don't you think?"

"She's as filthy as the rest of them."

Dib smiled at this crude, predicable remark. He judged himself in the mirror, hoping to find himself attractive, and maybe a little cool. In truth, he just looked terrified. There was nothing out of place. His hair was styled just the way he liked it, and there wasn't any food crumbs on his face. But to him he still didn't look good enough. Was this what every guy thought when he was dating for the first time? Did they doubt? Or did they just go with the flow, and see what came next without fear?

"If you chose a mate, Zim, hypothetically speaking, what would you look for? What would you find attractive?"

Zim just looked up at him condescendingly as if the human had suddenly dropped in his brain cell count. "Again, this is where we differ, Dib worm. You... eh... monkeys are a lot more selective, fussy and emotional when it comes to making... more monkeys."

"Come on, Zim. There must have been a time when your ancestors must have mated much like we did. Before technology and space travel. Before anything. Don't you get aroused, Zim? Ever?" He felt sorry for him in a way. Without any excitement, be it sexual or erotic stimulus, life must be so bland for the Irken.

Zim looked around, suddenly paranoid that they were discussing his Irken heritage in the men's bathroom no less. But there was no one else there. Dib picked up on this, and suddenly didn't want to lose the conversation. Zim liked to keep everything knowledgeable on himself and his race a secret. Sometimes he could be tricked into giving trivialities clean away, and on some days getting even the tiniest bit of information out of him was like trying to get blood out of a stone.

"We were clubbing each other to death, just for some food." Dib continued, thinking that debauching his race some might get Zim to open up. Using his pride against him came easy sometimes. And useful. "We were savages back then. Hell, you might even argue that we still are savages."

"Well," Zim began, replacing the cleansing chalk back into his little side pocket, "in the days of old, as the records go, we males used to fight each other to the death over a mate. Any mate. And whoever won, won the female. Of course, we had wings back then. Even then, Dib human, no romance was ever involved. We just bred instinctively. But we did pair for life. For mutual benefit and all that."

This information did open up a lot of interest, but he came back to his earlier question. "But if you had the choice! Jeez, Zim! You're not very imaginative!"

"Well, I suppose I'd..." Dib glanced down at him, impressed that Zim was actually thinking about it, or trying to, given his cold, mathematical nature. "Um. The length of her antennas. And her height. Yes."

Dib giggled and nudged his shoulder playfully. It wasn't exactly the charming answer he was looking for, but at least the Irken had tried. After all, his likes and dislikes, coupled with instinct, were much more different to his own.

"And your species once had wings? That's amazing! What happened? Why'd you lose them?" He queried, his hapless boyish curiosity coming to light.

"Yeah. That's enough information for now, Earth boy. Give you any more and you'll use it against me."

"I sure would, space monster." Dib teased.

They headed back out and returned to their booth. Their coffee had arrived. Zim was surprised into silence when he learned that Dib had ordered for him while he had been away. This charitable act of kindness sickened him, yet pleased him at the same time. Irkens had never had anything to do with kindness, and Zim struggled to understand its concept since arriving on Earth. Gir had been the first to show him kindness, even if that supposed emotion from a robot was false. Now Dib was showing him more kindness than he cared for. Kindness was a weakness. It made you soft, and sappy. At least, that was what he was certain of. For why else did his race avoid it so terribly?

Zim drank down the coffee. And it did quell his shakes.

For the rest of the evening, everything else went well. And for just one moment, Zim forgot about his tribulations with Gir.