Author's Notes: For future reference, I'll be making my chapters a little longer from now on so there hopefully won't be so many of them. Also, I'll be trying to update at least once a week. I've got a lot of fic I want to do, but with college sucking up so much of my time and the fact that six of siblings have birthdays in September/October I'm getting a little overwhelmed. Hopefully everyone can find it in their hearts to have patience and remember that I really am trying my best, since I love this story as much as you people do.
Also, I will thank Quirky Misty not to spoil anything she figured out and PM'd me about to the other readers. The same goes for anyone else's Wild Mass Guessing in regards to the plot: if you figure something out that strikes you as too significant to be an accidental error, DO NOT blab about it in the review section. Spoiling other readers is not cool, even if done on accident.
Much love for Quirky Misty, who had the presence of mind to go the PM route instead. Oh, how I do love thee, it is as unto my love of cheese. (And I like cheese a lot.)
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Anza had never been so glad to be home.
He had missed every square inch of this place, from the ugly curtains to the floral bedsheets he used to despise. He had missed his mother's cooking, the sound of his father's disturbingly Santa-like laughter, even the screeching of the front steps. He collapsed onto his bed, inhaled the scent of his least favorite laundry detergent and smiled so hard it hurt. I'm home. In the other room, he could hear Laura explaining the situation to his parents, her voice calm and steely in a reassuring kind of way.
His old clothes had all been washed. His room was the tidiest one in the house. His video games had even been lovingly alphabetized by his mother. They had missed him. He knew the feeling; the way he'd laid awake at night wondering what they were doing cut him deeper than any knife possibly could. To be here again was like something out of a dream. Anza found himself reaching out to touch things, just to make sure that this was really happening. It was, and he found tears brewing in his eyes despite his resolve not to break down.
District Head Kinney made her presence known by clearing her throat. He turned to her and positively beamed. "Thank you," he said, for what seemed to be the hundredth time. "Thank you so much, Laura.''
She didn't smile, but the softer tone in her voice was close enough for him. "I left my number at Headquarters with your parents, along with my cell phone number. If you need me, do not hesitate to call-" She sighed as he wrapped his arms around her for the second time. "If you keep this up, people will get the wrong idea about us."
"I know, I just…" he sniffled and smiled at her. "I just want you to know I appreciate this, and I won't let you down."
"I know you won't," she said softly, her icy tone suddenly dark and angry. "I know you're innocent. I can feel it." She placed a hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eyes. "You're a good man, Anza. Good luck, for whatever it's worth."
She left without another word, and departed in the vehicle she'd used to transport Anza here. He couldn't help but wonder about her. She seemed super serious, but completely sincere when she said he was innocent. Somehow Laura had looked past the trial to see the truth, and for that he was forever thankful. He wasn't sure how people here would react to him being back, he just knew he preferred anything over his former prison. Shuddering, he closed his eyes, trying to focus on the positive. He had another chance at life now, and it was time to make the best of it.
The first thing he did was call up Danny, who immediately began sobbing hysterically. In the following hour and a half in which they talked, Danny managed to tell him all those stupid little things he'd taken for granted before – who was dating who, how many sandwich machines had exploded, and how they'd taken down a toxic marshmallow counterfeiting ring. Anza felt like a burden had been lifted off his shoulders when he was told that, to be quite honest, nobody but the judge believed he was guilty.
"Tehama even got the school paper to do a huge spread on the trial and all the inconsistencies," the redhead informed him, sounding pleased. "She's so mad at Parnassus I swear sometimes I can hear her glaring. She talks shit about him all the time when he's not there, and she misses everybody like crazy, especially you."
Tehama. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. She didn't hate him. She didn't believe all the lies and slander. He fell back onto his bed, letting out a shaky, slightly insane laugh. "Man, you have no idea how worried I was she'd-"
"Nobody believes what Malika said," Danny said firmly. "And nobody ever will." Softly, he added, "it's good to have you back, Joseph."
"It's good to be back, Danny."
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Sel hated the school's boiler room, the basements, and for that matter this whole place.
The cobwebs and dust had gathered thickly in these long forgotten catacombs, and quite frankly, so had the mice and bugs. It was a musty, filthy environment in which someone as small and thin as Gaz could vanish in a heartbeat. Anyone of average height, however, was going to find even walking to be a challenge after a while. Sel found herself growing increasingly frustrated with the noise level, too. The clanks of machinery and squeaking of rodents was beginning to get to her. Ever since Fillmore had told her Gaz was somwhere down here, she'd been itching to look through this maze and find her. Relieved as she was to know it had just been Gaz holding him up, on the other hand, it was Gaz holding him up, which never meant anything good.
When she found them, it was as if they'd been waiting for her. Gaz sat on a pile of spare rugs and pieces of carpet. A few feet away, the incinerator roared, and the heat was unbearable. It was there, however, not for Gaz or Sel's benefit, but for Zim's. The Irken basked in the heat, undisguised and clearly pleased. If either of them were surprised to see her, they didn't show it, merely blinking up at her in mild annoyance.
Zim snickered openly when Gaz and Sel embraced; he found such Earthling displays of affection amusing at best. The two girls ignored him, as they always had. With Sel's glasses removed, the resemblance to Gaz was clear. Their eyes were the same shade of gold, and their skin was the exact same snow-white color. Zim watched them curiously. Human's appearances had always been something that fascinated him. Irkens had no relatives to resemble, after all, and thus no dramatic reuniting. These two were not usually dramatic, and so they simply looked each other as if trying to confirm the other was real. It was disturbingly intimate, and somehow the Irken got the feeling he was intruding on what these people called 'a moment'.
"Humans," Zim said after a moment, "I do not wish to interrupt your filthy Earthling bonding time, but I, the almighty ZIM, have more important things to do than watch you worm babies hug one another."
"No you don't," Gaz replied under her breath, but Sel gave her a warning look that clearly said 'don't start another fight with him'.
"Since Zim owes you his life," Zim continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted, "And I owe it twice now to the Dib, I will help you in your efforts to save the valley's ho."
"You mean Vallejo," Gaz corrected as Sel began to giggle.
"That is what I said, the valley's ho. That is who once ruled over the Patronizers, yes?"
"Patrollers," Gaz corrected over Sel's laughter. "Vallejo was head of the Patrollers when my cousin worked for them, and-"
"And now," Zim said with great flourish, "The man with an ass from planet Parn rules the Patronizers! I got it the first time you explained it!"
At this point, Gaz knew anything she had to say wouldn't be heard over Sel's hysterical laughter, so she simply sighed and shook her head and rolled her eyes skyward. This was going to be a long day.
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Fillmore had only been stunned speechless three times in his life.
The first was when Wayne offered him a way out of his thug lifestyle. The second was when Ingrid had told him she was moving. The third was when District Patrol had come bursting through the doors. Each memory was vivid, because years as a thief, punk and Officer had made him a fast talker and a faster thinker. You had to get up pretty early in the morning to stun Cornelius Fillmore. His nerves of steel made it even harder to get one up on him. So when Fillmore stopped mid sentence, dropped his soda onto the floor and visibly gaped, speechless, that was when every head in the Safety Patrol's office spun.
Joseph Anza had grown a good two inches, and his hair was long and shaggy now, the thick midnight blue locks slightly wavy. His bright blue eyes were as alive as ever. Although he was thinner than before and was sporting a colorful array of bruises everywhere, he was definitely back, and Fillmore's mind was summarily blown. Danny let out a cheerful whoop of joy, and some of the few remaining old Officers stood to greet him, but it was Tehama who got there first.
She was the toughest girl Fillmore had ever had the pleasure of working with. She had seen more blood, violence and horror than the other Officers, having early on established herself as a forensics specialist. She did not scream, she did not shriek, and she never cried. If she ever did, the reserved, snarky Officer had always reserved that for the privacy of her own home. Yet these things didn't matter right now, because as far as she was concerned there might as well have been no one else in the room. No one else was as important to her as Joseph Anza.
Karen and Joseph looked at each other, searching for the right words to say to break the silence. She reached out to touch his bruised face, fingers splaying out over the injury as if she had to touch it to confirm it was real. Their eyes locked, electric blue meeting starry black, and suddenly, as if a jolt of energy had gone through them, they both broke. Tears began to slide down Karen's cheeks freely as she embraced him tightly. His arms wrapped around her back, and he stroked her hair. The familiar touch made her bury her face in his shoulder. She was trying so hard not to cry, and everyone could see it, but no one even thought of laughing, if only because they were on the verge of tears themselves.
"You're back," she whispered. "You're here. I missed you…"
He ran a hand through her now tri-colored hair. "I missed you too," he murmured into her ear, eyes soft and loving. Fillmore, strongly reminded of the way his parents looked at each other sometimes, looked away. The moment was painfully intimate.
A snide chuckle made Fillmore clench his fists and Anza's eyes turn icy cold. Parnassus barely suppressed a laugh, rolling his eyes slowly and luxuriously. Dressed in his typically overdone suit and tie, he took in the scene before him as if he was watching a particularly bad play. His slicked back golden blonde hair glistened like gold as he slowly began to clap, mocking them. The new Officers, those under his command, watched with nervous and fearful eyes. The Officers loyal to Vallejo watched with glares and clenched fists. If looks could have killed, he would have been dead twenty times over.
"How cute," he sneered, "The master has arrived late and the dogs are waiting. (1) I suppose you think being one of the old Officers makes you somehow above trivial things like scheduling and regulations?"
"The clock is five minutes fast," Fillmore, Tehama, Anza and several other people said at the same time. Parnassus frowned as a ripple of laughter went through the room.
"You're the one who should be worried about your job," a snide, cruel voice cut in. Fillmore found himself, not for the first time, gaping at Gaz's audacity. The tiny girl pushed her way through the small crowd of Officers and pointed one pale finger at Parnassus. "My friends and I have been waiting for a half hour to get applications to join. I thought you said you wanted new Officers."
"I don't see how that threatens my job-" Parnassus began, voice annoyed and rising, but Gaz cut him off.
"School rules say you're supposed to talk to us within twenty minutes of us getting in here. Think, dumbass, is thirty bigger than twenty?" Gaz said calmly and coldly, as if she were talking to a particularly dumb tree frog. When Parnassus was stunned into silence, she pulled out a calculator. "Okay, I'm only going to show you this once-"
"That will be unnecessary," the blonde boy snapped as the room burst into barely contained giggles. He gave Gaz a glare that could've frozen fire. She yawned; despite not even coming up to his chin, she was hardly intimidated by some douche in a suit. "And there is no reason to invoke regulations and school guidelines with me. Unlike my predecessor, I run a fair and clean office-" and here, Anza laughed out loud while Fillmore snorted, "- and so all I need is the names and student ID numbers of you and your… friends."
Parnassus faltered a bit at the sight of Zim. This is, for the record, basically the reaction every sentient being in the universe has to him. Standing three feet tall, with wide, disturbingly shiny purple eyes, his black hair was in an outrageous pompadour. Readers might wonder if, with time, perhaps Zim's fashion sense had improved so he wasn't so blatantly out of place. Those readers will be unsurprised to know that no, indeed, the Irken boy had gotten worse with time. Wearing a purple tuxedo top, a red cape and black skinny jeans tucked into neon green thigh high boots, Zim was the kind of person who robbed everyone of the ability to speak while instilling in them the desire to ask all kinds of questions. (Like 'are you taking your medication', for instance.)
And then Zim opened his mouth to speak.
"Greetings, Lord Ass of Parn! I am ZIM!" He screamed his name loud enough to make people wince. "I am a god of chaos, the lord of destruction, the master of all robot bees! With my determination, strength, agility, dexterity, and humility, I am here to be your tool of death and justice wherever the beloved school of Q needs me!"
"It's X," Gaz muttered, looking remarkably unperturbed by this display. "The school's name is X, Zim."
"The Lord of Parn Asses has destroyed schools R through W already?" the short boy turned to the blonde with something akin to admiration shining in his eyes. "Truly, your blood thirst knows no bounds! I will feel honored to slay the tardy in your name! Let the halls your run red with their BLOOD!"
"I only needed your name," Parnassus said, sounding equal parts stunned and horrified. "Leave your ID number with Officer Tehama and we'll get back to you." He turned to Sel and Gaz. Compared to Zim, the bright haired Goth girls looked completely normal and sane. "Your names are?"
"Gaz Teridu, student ID number Tuna."
"That's not a number," Parnassus pointed out, sounding annoyed. She held up her ID card, and he groaned, rubbing his face with his palm. "Fine, whatever. Number Tuna it is. And you?"
"Saeryonim Teridu," Sel said, and at the exact moment she realized her mistake, she heard Tehama gasp.
And now it was her turn to be speechless.
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(1) This is a play on Shakespeare's line 'the master arrived late, and the whores lay waiting'. Because I wanted a high-brow insult for Parnassus to use, I decided that him subtly implying Tehama is a whore would be the most IC thing I could see him doing, because no one's going to get the reference when he does so.
