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Author's Note:
Invader Zim is -c- Jhonen Vasquez! Only the events of this story (and the character tweaking, heh) are mine. :3
~Jizena~
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Gaz's Records
"I have to what?" I screamed.
"Gaz, until we build upon the dormitories, you need to share your room," Dib explained as calmly as he could.
"No!" I refused. "Absolutely not! I'm not sharing my room with anyone! Especially not some stuck-up bitch!"
"GAZ!"
"WHAT? She is!"
"Gaz, come on..." Dib sighed. "Alexandria isn't my favorite person either, but Nacea and Tenn are already sharing a room and yours has two beds..."
"Have Nacea sleep in your room then!" I yelled, fuming out all of my frustrations. God, I hated how close that Meekrob got to my brother. "You two are close enough!"
"It isn't like that between the two of us!" Dib denied.
"Whatever," I spat. "Dib, this is really asking a lot."
"Well... if you could please think it over?" Dib asked me kindly as his advisor walked in to escort him to his meeting with the foreign Agents.
"Dib, I'm really not in a good mood right now. I don't think anything could put me in a good mood, either. Especially not learning that now my privacy is going to be encroached upon by some whiny Daddy's girl who—"
"That's enough, Gaz," my brother cut in. I let out my breath in a huff and folded my arms.
"Sir?" Ms. Baudelaire prompted.
"Coming," Dib sighed. "Really, Gaz, it's only temporary. You'll only have to share your room with Alexandria for a few months, if not less."
"See you later, Dib."
"By the way," Dib said before joining up with Charlotte and the others, "happy birthday."
"Wh-what?" I gasped, feeling pretty stupid. Had I seriously forgotten my own birthday? Dib smiled at me, then turned away.
I darted back into my room and rushed up to the wall calendar. Yep. April twenty-eighth. "I'm thirteen!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms up into the air. I smiled more brightly than I had in months (which is to say, I smiled at all), and walked over to my bed, my heart pounding. Pulling Zim's sweatshirt around me, I reached over and delicately picked up the mysterious box that I'd found tucked in the sweatshirt pocket three years ago.
"Gaz, open this in about three years. You'll understand why at the time."
That's what the note read. I'd read it a million times, even though the message was simple. The note itself was tucked safely inside one of my journals, the third journal chronicling the events of the Time Warp, bookmarking the page onto which I'd copied the words.
I took in a deep breath, then murmured, "Here goes," and lifted the lid off of the small box. Inside, there lay a folded piece of paper; when I lifted it up I noticed yet another box it had been covering.
The folded paper read, "Read this after you have opened the smaller box... sorry this sounds kind of weird..."
I laughed a little, and I could feel tears start to form. Seeing Zim's handwriting again made it seem like he was still human. I set the note to the side and took out the smaller box.
"Huh... this looks like a..." I began, awkwardly talking to myself, then choked a bit, running my fingers over the velveteen casing. "Nah," I said, "can't be."
Slowly, I flipped open the lid and immediately gasped. There, on the velvet lining, sat the most beautiful object I have ever laid my eyes on. Tears came to my eyes and I couldn't stop them from falling. I blinked several times, but my eyes were not decieving me. I was holding in my hands a box containing what could very easily be construed as an engagement ring.
"N-no..." I choked out, my hands shaking.
This was too much to process. I had no idea where he could have found it, or what the hell could possibly have been going through Zim's head at the time. Hopefully, his letter would shed more light on the subject, but now I was almost too afraid to read it, the object itself was so stunning.
I dried my eyes and took the ring out of the box, holding it up to the light. The metal wasn't silver, I could tell, but it was similar in appearance; set in diamonds was a smoothly cut stone that I could not identify... it changed colors with the light. "God..." I repeated, not knowing what else to say. I clutched the ring delicately in both hands and held it to my chest. I could feel my heart beating wildly.
After a few moments of wondering what the ring could possibly mean, I looked over at the note and hesitantly picked it up. Before unfolding it, I hesitated, then slid the ring onto my right ring finger. It fit perfectly. I smiled, laughing a little in spite of myself, then unfolded the note carefully, finding that it was comprised of two sheets of paper, and began to read.
"Gaz," it began. Zim's handwriting was a little more steady and controlled in this note, I noticed, "I guess now you've figured out why I asked you to wait a few years to open this. I wanted to make sure it would fit. Wow. Writing this, it sounds kinda creepy. Sorry about that." I laughed a little and continued reading.
"That said," the note went on, "I guess I should start out by saying something of importance. God, my hand is shaking.
"My mind is really fuzzy right now. I can hardly remember anything about my past at all. I'm beginning to wonder if any of that is real—about me being one of them. (Irkens: just asked GIR for the name.) I'm trying to write this quickly, because, for all I know, something else could slip away from me, like something important I wanted to say. Anyway, the stone in the center of the ring. I found that in my basement (which is mostly a darkroom, don't know why; I'd like to show you, though) along with a few other things that GIR identified as artifacts from Irk or some other planet or something. Can't for the life of me think of the name right now, sorry. That's not important, though.
"What is important is what that stone is. It's a rare mineral that isn't formed naturally anywhere. Rather, it's made up of debris from asteroids, planets and failed stars. It has a weird kind of energy to it, don't you think? Maybe that doesn't make sense. But apparently I had some because all Irkens hoard that mineral like crazy. It's supposed to help anyone in possession of it be astute, aware; energized, I guess. And now I've gone and made that energy bit up there seem really lame. I think by now it'd be worse if I started crossing words out, though.
"Are you still reading this?" I laughed. I hadn't felt so wonderful in... well, in three years.
"Moving on," Zim's note continued, "I want to talk about the metal the ring is made up of. I have no idea what it is. GIR told me it's an ancient Irken mineral, but that's all I could get out of him, because his memory chip sort of fried after that. Something about the lack of information around it leads me to believe it's going to be important someday. So it's for you to hold onto. And the best way for you to hold onto it is to wear it. Protect it, because I swear, I can't shake this feeling that it's something that others might be after, but it's also something that can help you as well.
"So this leads me into what you're probably wondering about why I made this and why I gave this to you. Shit, my heart's really pounding right now. And I'm out of room. I have to go find more paper."
I smiled, trying to envision exactly what Zim was going through while writing down the words I was currently reading. It was as though no time had passed at all. I let out a sigh and went on to the second page.
"Okay, now I can keep writing. My hand is really shaking right now. I'm pretty nervous. I'm sitting here, looking at this ring, trying to form thoughts and words. Alright, I think I've got something. One of the reasons I had this made for you is because—well, something is telling me that Earth isn't going to be a very safe place in a few years, and I want more than anything to be able to protect you and help you, but I don't know where I'll be. If I know you have this though, if you hold onto this—
"Gaz, this is my way of saying I'm coming back.
"I don't know how I'll manage it, yet. I don't know how possible it's going to be. I don't know how long it's going to take, and I don't know if I'll even forget everything I'm writing by the time—but just keep this thing safe. As long as you do, I'm confident that you'll be all right.
"And if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you to wait for me. I know this may end up reading weird, but I've been thinking about us, and what might happen in the future. I bet this sounds absolutely pathetic, huh? I don't care. I don't think I do, anyway. Maybe a little.
"Now, I'm not trying to sound possessive or anything, and I'm not saying you shouldn't do whatever you feel is right, but if you do wait for me—if you can—I promise, I'll find some way back.
"Because I love you. You're an amazing person, Gaz. You've taught me more about life than I ever thought or pretended I knew. And I deeply, honestly thank you for that. You have an incredibly kind demeanor, and you're also a lot stronger than you think you are. And I'm not talking about just physical strength here, hah—remember that night on the roof? I'm pretty sure I kicked your ass.
"Sorry, trying to keep things light. I mean it, though. Try to stay up, okay? I hope that, by the time you're actually holding this note in your hands, I haven't caused you any worry. If during this time I'm human, I'm most likely reading this over your shoulder and wondering how much more pathetic I could possibly sound right now. If I'm not, well, I don't quite know. Hopefully, I'm looking for a way to become human again.
"Stay strong, Gaz. I know you have it in you.
"I love you.
"-Zim."
I had to set the note to the side so that the tears I'd felt creep up on me the whole time wouldn't fall and blur the ink on the pages. I wasn't crying hard... but I was crying.
"You don't sound pathetic at all," I whispered, forcing a smile as I looked back over at the note. "Just... nice..."
Drying my eyes, I picked up the note again and re-read it, then held up my unique ring. "He actually had this made for me..." I breathed. I had no idea how he'd done it. That was something I didn't question. The fact was, it existed, and now I had a strong link to him. I had proof that that week had happened (more than the sweatshirt I still kept around). I had something to admire again, something that would keep me anticipating new, better things, rather than staying stagnant and wondering when things could possibly get worse. I lay back onto my bed and admired the ring. "Wonder what you'd think," I whispered. "Does it look good on me?"
I wondered for a second about wearing it around, for fear that Dib would get strange about it, but I then decided I did not care. Because Zim had told me he was coming back. Yes, he had written that note three years ago. Yes, he was now partnered with Tak. But he'd been struggling. He still had a conscience. He still had human thoughts and tendencies, and that side of him, at least, cared about me. 'Pathetic' or not, that note gave me hope, and hope was something I had never easily been able to hold onto.
"You told me to wait," I said, sitting up and picking up his letter again. Just touching the letter got a grin out of me. "So I'm waiting, but I'm already sick of it. Hurry up, already, so I can say thank you."
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There was a knock at my door later that afternoon, while I was strumming a few chords from the chorus of the song "My Bloody Valentine" lazily on my guitar, pausing every now and then to admire my beautiful new ring. That ring had put me in such a good mood for the rest of that day, I almost wanted to apologize to Dib for being so ticked off at him before. I told myself I'd apologize whenever he next decided we should talk. Lately I didn't like to initiate conversations with him since he was now as busy as Dad always had been. And they claim they were nothing alike. Hmf.
It was a good thing I did end up in such a surprisingly good mood that afternoon, too, considering who it was I ended up opening the door for. I recognized the man who was standing there, from seeing my brother showing him and his daughter around the night before.
"Hello!" he greeted briskly. "Sorry if I'm interrupting anything, but I don't believe we've properly been introduced. I'm Victor Haynsworth."
"Gaz," I replied, shaking the hand that he'd offered me.
His eyes said, I know. He was insanely polite, the Professor, just as I'd subconsciously expected him to be, right from the minute Dib had told me we'd be having new additions from England arriving. I guess I've just always had that stereotype in my head of the exceptionally kind British gentleman in my head. Then again, for some reason, all I'd read up to that point was Victorian literature, so go figure.
"I've been informed that you've agreed to let my daughter share your room for a while," he said, retracting his hand and smiling.
"Really?" I asked. So Dib and his advisor had just said to go ahead with it, huh? I sighed.
"If it isn't too much to ask."
"I'm not too thrilled on sharing my room, to be completely honest," I found myself saying to this really nice, fatherly guy, suddenly feeling awful for speaking my mind, "but I will," I added quickly. I realized, after just a few seconds of knowing him, that Professor Haynsworth was like my ideal picture of a father. Even his handshake grip wasn't as hard as my dad's. He was just very obviously a great person. One could tell by his clean looks and his smooth, kind voice. Maybe because I never saw my father's face, his voice had always seemed really harsh.
The Professor grinned. "Thank you very much, Gaz," he told me. "I greatly appreciate it, really. I'll make it up to you somehow, I promise."
"No, it's fine," I decided on saying. I couldn't ask someone like that to do anything for me. Not easily, anyway. "When's she gonna start moving in?"
"Well, immediately if you don't mind," said the Professor rather nervously. When he stood to the side, his daughter was standing right behind him, a backpack slung over one shoulder, looking submissive. "I'll leave you two to get to know each other, then."
Before I could say anything, the Professor took his leave, giving his daughter a little squeeze on the shoulder before returning to his office. We both watched him leave, then just sort of glared at each other. She was a lot taller than me, or would have been had I not been wearing heels that shortened our height difference (I was still about 5'3" at that point); then again, she was about four years older.
"So," she said plainly. "Hello."
"Hi," I said in response. "Uh, come on in?" I stepped back and walked back to my bed, which faced the door from the right. Like all the two-bed rooms, there were two closets as well; mine facing the foot of my bed, what was now Alexandria's was on the wall to the left of her bed. I had doors, she didn't, but they were both walk-ins with shelves and hangers. "You get the left side." She'd also get to use the extra chest of drawers that I hadn't any need of. The room was set up such that I had my bed pushed against the far wall, with the window, with my dresser doubling as a bedside table, and a bookcase separating our dressers, from which her side of the room began.
"Are you as reluctant to do this as I am?" she wondered, walking over to the bed and sitting down, setting her backpack down next to her.
"I think this is just Dib trying to get me to talk to people more," I admitted, picking my guitar back up.
"Same with my father." Alexandria glanced around the room a little, and, as I plucked a few strings in no particular order, I studied her. She looked very down-to-earth, but her expression read that she had just come out of something of a rebellious phase. She was sixteen, though; how many kids by her age hadn't? I'd heard her yelling at Dib before, from passing through the hall while he was in a meeting with the Haynsworths, hence how I'd come to the rush decision that she was something of a bitch. Her face didn't read bitch, though, so only rebellion could explain why she may have just been wound the wrong way, so to speak. After her green eyes darted around the room a few times, she leaned over her knees and asked me, "You play the guitar?"
"Yeah, for a couple years," I answered. "I don't think I'm too good yet."
"It sounds fine to me. I've always wanted to," she admitted. "Play the guitar, I mean. My ex-boyfriend was a drummer, but he told me to keep out of his band."
"Do you sing or something?" I wondered.
"Church choir singing when I was young, but little else. I play the violin myself. And piano, somewhat." Alexandria paused, glanced at her backpack, then showed a small tick of a smile and added, "I don't think I'm very good either."
"Huh," I remarked, strumming a little. I couldn't tell if we were reaching for conversation or if we were actually having one. The air in the room was awkward, but in our own ways, we were inadvertently making strides toward making it seem less so. "Violin always looks really hard. A lot of the music I like uses violins."
"It used to be quite difficult, but I practice when I can," she shrugged. "What sort of music do you listen to?"
"Goth," I muttered.
She smiled uncertainly. "Well," she said, "I'm rather open to music. I'm, er... glad we may have some common ground."
"Yeah." I guess you could call it that.
There was a lull for a moment, and then she stood, unzipped her backpack, and started taking out books. Another common interest, it seemed, but I didn' say anything yet. When she'd nearly emptied the bag—with a set of nightclothes, her brush, a few various things—she picked up a couple of the books and set them in a particular arrangement on her dresser. "By the way," she said, just when I thought conversation was out, "you can call me 'Lex' if you want to. My father does, and most of my friends do."
"Do you prefer it?"
"Yes, actually." She chewed her lower lip for a second, then sat back down on the bed. "My mother is really the only one who calls me Alexandria. And we don't get on."
"Lex, then."
"Please."
"'Kay, sure." I plucked a couple strings again. "I don't have a nickname. Just Gaz."
"Just Gaz," Lex repeated.
"Yep."
"Well, then."
We talked for a while longer, and I came to discover that she didn't seem half bad. She was much easier to talk to than Tenn or Nacea, I gave her that. Maybe the fact that she was, oh, actually human helped. Having to share my room with someone was something I was still wary about, but at least she was somebody who also respected personal space, so that was good. We had similar tastes in literature, too, I soon found, and it didn't take too long for me to actually start consdering her a friend. I knew that friendship was something I needed, but there were things missing from my life that bothered me more: real parents (or at least my dad), and Zim.
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Author's Note:
Hi, everyone! Huuuge update this week, sorry if it's a lot to digest! ^^;; With this update, IZMS has passed 20 chapters, and it makes me super excited and happy that you have all been so kind in your reviews! I may start replying to reviews in this comment section, hope that would be all right with you! Because I want to interact with all of these amazing reviews, but I get kind of nervous sending back private messages… plus, some things come up in reviews that I'd love to reply to in this public note section… so, starting next week, I think I'll be doing some replies here! :3
And one more note! (A lot today, oops!) Next week will be the penultimate post for Part One. Yep, only two more updates until we move on to Part Two! I'm excited, and fueled by all these great reviews and support! :3 Many thanks~! ^^ And see you next week, on Friday, June 17th!
~Jizena~
(And a shameless plug: if anyone out there is also a South Park fan, check out my other project, co-authored with FF user Rosie Denn, entitled The Mysterion Mythos: Cthulhu Fhtagn, which will start up this coming Wednesday, June 15th! ^^)
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