Note: There's a poll running on my profile, near the top, ever since I recently discovered this option. Let me know what you think…

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"I will not be told that I can't hit him, Zim!"

Zim grabbed his own antennae, yanking in frustration. "You do not understand, Maneem! It is not a matter of whether you want to hit him or not, it is a matter of whether you would like for your planet to continue its peaceful spinning or not! It is punishable by death to lay hands on a Tallest. What we did, in going to rescue Mikko, was an act of war itself on behalf of your entire species. The only reason he did not order your planet destroyed was because he was eaten by a Morflar before he could have it ordered! And Tallest Purple was probably too afraid and scattered to initiate that order himself! Right now, he is attempting peaceful communication with you, but if any aggression is enacted, by Irken standards he has every right to bring the Armada crashing down on this planet."

"Is he in communication with them right now?" Della asked, arms crossed.

"No, he's trying to get ahold of them so they can remove him—"

"So I can hit him until he gets contact with them?"

Zim flailed his arms. "No! No you can't do that!"

"And if his intentions aren't so peaceable?" Tom asked, leaning against the wall by the TV. "What then, Zim?"

Zim turned away. "They are. They just are, Tom."

"What if?" Tom repeated, insistently.

"If they are," Zim snapped back, "I will personally assault my own Tallest so that the blame lies squarely on Zim and your precious planet keeps its normal course, but I can assure you with my life, which is EXACTLY what I am gambling, that he will do no such thing as what you are thinking he will do!"

Mikko walked over, grabbing Zim's shoulder and swinging him around, a dark look on her face. "Stop that. Stop doing that."

Zim blinked. "Doing what? What did I do?"

"Betting your life. Trading your life. You do it a lot, like it isn't worth anything."

Zim hesitated. "But… it's…. not…"

"Seriously, moron?" Dib perched on the arm of the couch, shaking his head. "How much is it gonna take to get it through that thick head of yours?"

"It's worth a lot to me." Mikko released his shoulder. "And everyone here. And you really need to stop doing that. There are other ways of getting things done than bartering your life away."

Zim scratched his head. He hadn't ever thought about it before. All he was ever good for as an Invader was using his life to the glory of serving and furthering the Empire. If an Invader was unable to do that, they lost all value. He'd found another cause to serve, protecting his new family—families—but the fact that they demanded as part of that service that he consider himself as valuable as they was a bit boggling. It just wasn't how it worked.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and he tensed.

"Alright, no hitting, no screaming, no threatening of lives," Zim ordered. "Dib, if that water pistol comes out of your trench coat, I'm going to shove it down your throat."

"How'd you know I had a—"

"You're Dib My-Middle-Name-Is-Annoying Membrane, I know you." Zim returned, marching for the door and opening it.

Red stepped into the room, disguise in place and eyes lowered. Zim could see him analyzing the room around him, finding the most defensible position. After locating it, he walked over to the corner farthest from any person in the room. Once Zim had shut the door, Red pulled off his contact lenses and removed his holographic patch.

Mikko shut her eyes, reaching out toward Dib, who took her hand. Della began her customary pacing. Zim had often observed this behavior in her when she wished to restrain herself from other, more violent tendencies. Tom, meanwhile, had left his position near the TV and moved closer to Red, stopping within five feet of him, and leaning against the wall again. His eyes settled on Red, and remained there, wary. Zim read battle Tom's entire posture, and even in his positioning. It was amateurish placement and could be easily countered, but Red remained where he was, antennae only a few degrees higher than the full submissive position.

An awkward silence settled over the group, each waiting for another person to speak. Red was the first to break the silence.

"I suppose there is no easy way to begin a conversation of this nature." He kept his eyes trained on the ground. "Except to say… that I regret the actions that were taken against you, and any damage you suffered, and to assure you that this issue will never occur again."

It took all Zim's self control not to mimic the human gesture he had come to learn called the Face-Palm, an expression of extreme disbelief.

"What kind of apology is that?" Dib blurted. "You sound like you broke her favorite dish or something, not kidnapped her and tried to rape her!"

"The Tallests do not give apologies very often, Dib." Zim responded harshly. "In fact, they never apologize. If you had to learn how to speak a phrase you'd never had to speak before, what would you do?"

Dib glared a little. "Research it, what does that have to do with…" He gaped at Red. "Was that something off a website or a book that you read?"

Red shifted uncomfortably. "Is he usually this observant and annoying?"

"Observant on occasion, annoying always." Zim sighed. "Dib, please, just let him try!"

"You can stop talking, Zim." Red lifted his head.

"Yes, I will stop."

"For the rest of this conversation. Don't speak. That's a command. I can handle this conversation on my own."

Zim opened his mouth, and shut it. He couldn't disobey a direct command. He caught Dib scowling at him, and groaned inwardly. Now was not the time for Dib to think he was under the Tallest's control. It wasn't that he was their slave, he just had newfound respect, admiration… and reverence… for Tallest Red. And he wished to display that in obedience, as far as it did not cause harm to his families.

"It is true, what he says." Red said haltingly. "I am unused to making amends, it has never been required of me, and as I was always correct according to everyone around me, there was no need. However… as it has come to my attention that certain… actions that I have taken have been extremely damaging, I am attempting to make things right."

"Does that include leaving forever and never coming back?" Della sniped.

"I have been attempting to contact any Irken patrol in range and alert them of my presence, but Earth is on the fringes of our mapping, and very few patrols, if any, venture this far."

"If that's true, how'd you know about Earth to begin with? You must have known about it if you ordered two abductions from it." Dib's eyes narrowed.

Red paused, a deep furrow settling between his eyes. Silence stretched out again, as he considered the question.

Recognition hit Zim with a jolt. He'd seen that odd confusion before, that expression when confronted by a misplaced piece of information. He'd seen it in DarkBooty. When statements he'd made hadn't made sense, when he'd had more knowledge about a situation than he ever should have had. He'd known in one moment that Dib was Zim's brother, and in the next looked bewildered over the same information. And all through the trial, DarkBooty had hardly lifted his head, but when he had, he'd stared around in confusion, as if he didn't understand what was going on, or why he was on trial.

"I… don't know…" Red admitted slowly. "It doesn't make sense… how I knew about it, and didn't know about it, but I do not know how the information came to me."

"That's lame." Dib muttered, but subsided as Mikko finally lifted her head to look at Red.

"Why did you choose me?" She asked quietly.

Red's eyes dropped back to the floor. "Because I knew from his memories you were precious to Zim. And at the time I wanted to cause him pain. That was all."

"And what about my Mom?" Dib snarled. "You gonna say that was to cause Zim pain too?"

Red's eyes narrowed, and he drew himself up to his full height. "Dib Membrane, the source of your anger is understood, however, this conversation is not about you. Nor is it about the hyuman female known as Gloria Membrane. It is about Mikko. Your silence is also required now."

"I'm not your subject!" Dib's hand slipped inside his trench coat, but was stopped by Mikko's response.

"No, but he's right. This is a different conversation than the one you're trying to have."

"And that conversation will be addressed in due time," Red added. "But not here, and not today."

Dib glowered, but pulled his hand back out from his coat.

Red turned back to Mikko, antennae lowering back to a less aggressive position. "As I was saying, I apologize. It should not have happened, under any circumstances, and I will ensure that nothing like this will ever occur toward any inhabitant of this planet again, once I return to the Massive. Records of Earth will be slowly expunged from our history and memory banks." He paused, that odd expression on his face again. "If they… are there at all… to begin with." He shook clear of the thought. "Do you have any further inquiries… or statements for me?"

Zim's spooch twisted slightly. He wants her to make the guilt go away.

Mikko shook her head. "No. No questions." She sat there, quietly clutching Dib's hand.

Red watched her, silently, then bowed his head. Donning his patch and contact lenses, he turned and walked toward the door. As he passed through the door frame, Dib exploded off the couch.

"The gardener? THE GARDENER? Get back here you—" But by the time Dib had reached the door, Red was gone. Dib whipped around, homing in on Zim in rage. "You better start talking, Spaceboy. Tell me what that monster is doing as my Mom's gardener."

Zim pressed his claws to his temples. As if this day wasn't hard enough…