Lard Nar stared at himself in the mirror and glared at the dark circles under his eyes.

Today was the day, he supposed, that he would need to fill Dib in on everything that had transpired with Amalia after he'd left. Would the human call the Vortian a hypocrite for killing her only moments after he'd demanded Dib to drop his weapons? Had he projected too much onto Dib, would he come to resent his Captain?

Lard Nar stood in the shared bathroom of his and Zim's quarters, and leaned on the spacious countertop of their double vanity sinks. Across the countertop sat products for teeth, claw, and horn care, normally organized to perfection every morning and evening after Zim had made a mess of the place but today was noticeably still messy.

The evening before the Captain hadn't bothered to clean, nor did he plan to today.

Somehow, the small mess fit, and was a welcome distraction from the ruminative thoughts plaguing Lard Nar. He glared at a tube of gel he'd bought as a present for Zim, who had refused to use it on his leukku, and focused his mounting anxiety on it with such intensity he was sure it would have burst had Vortians any semblance of telepathic ability.

He took a deep breath after a moment, and looked back towards the huge mirror that expanded, unbroken, across the entire length of wall above the counterspace. It was within the reflective surface that Lard Nar saw a ghost of himself and his ire only seemed to grow as he stared at his uncovered chest.

Perhaps it would have been better to dress before entering the bathroom, as the Captain could hardly bear to stare at his own marred flesh after the dream he'd had the night before.

In his dream, he'd been running down a corridor to reach some sort of control panel where he'd pulled a lever and watched with glee as the screen above the controls showed water flooding the halls of a lavish looking building. On the screen he watched hordes of people screaming as they were swept away down the halls, suffocating in the churning waters.

He remembered his dream-self laughing and feeling proud of it all.

Was his subconscious trying to tell him something? On some level, had he enjoyed what he'd done?

He found his eyes tracing the dull grey knots of old scars that marred his chest and felt a bubble of irritation as he evaluated his skin. It wasn't the skin of a peace-lover, but of a battle hardened solider and he felt a deep shame welling within him as he wondered if that was perhaps what he'd become.

"You scar so easily." Zim would always say whenever he caught the Captain preening and shirtless, his scars on full display. The Irken would say this the way gossipy old women talked about shades of makeup they couldn't pull off. Like it was something enviable and he should be proud. Like he was lucky, the envy of any Irken with virgin, unbroken skin.

But the Captain wasn't Irken, and such comments only made Lard Nar's skin itch.

He hated his scars.

As far as he was concerned, they were the outwards marring of his soul, the reminder of those he had wronged and those who had wronged him. Usually they gave him a mental strength, a determination for no one else to suffer, but today they only fueled a hatred boiling within him.

Today his scars only brought questions and self-loathing to his cycling mind.

Because those scars?

His marred skin?

Well, it was the same skin a killer might have, now wouldn't they?

Lard Nar glared at his mirror self and thought again of his dream – the sound of laughter ringing hollow in his ears as he remembered over and over again the delight his dream-self had taken in drowning all those people.

Was he actually an aggressive person? Did he always have so many scars? Had they all been born in the name of the 'greater good'?

And really who got to choose what was the 'greater good' anyway.

Dictators seized power in the name of pursuing their perverse ideals of a 'greater good', after all.

Had his reality become so distorted – had he lost his path?

Lard Nar found himself tracing his fingers cautiously across the deep scar on his belly – the one Tak had given him – and he tried to determine which wounds had been received in self-defense verses those gained in offense. His fingers lightly followed the knots and puckered flesh as he fought to keep his breathing even. There were at least a dozen of them, and he was dismayed to find there were some he didn't remember receiving.

He idly continued to trace each and every scar, thinking dark and terrible thoughts of himself every time he touched one with an unclear past. He leaned over the counter when he came to his shoulder, peering at it curiously, examining the tiny holes left by the stiches removed just an hour before they'd met with Amalia. It was a small miracle he hadn't accidentally reopened the wound with all the hubbub.

He ran his finger along the shiny, healing flesh, and paused.

A gentle wrinkle marred his brow as he pondered a strange texture to the wound.

He gently rubbed the flat of his palm against the center again and paused once more.

The wrinkle in his forehead deepened.

Was that?

He ran his fingers across the wound again, this time pushing gently, and was alarmed to find that it was.

A tiny bump.

So small he wouldn't have noticed had he not been manhandling himself.

He ran his hands over it again, this time slightly frantic, as he pulled at his skin, rolling the bump between forefinger and thumb. It felt maybe like a bug bite, or a small cyst, and he struggled to remember if it was always there.

His mind quickly flashed back to Amalia, her long claws raking against his shirt, toying with the edge of his collar, the feeling of her claw poised threateningly, playfully, against his neck.

He shuddered.

A nervous, reedy voice somewhere in the back of his mind blared alarm bells and he leaned closer to the mirror to try and examine it.

Was that?

There, at the center, sat tiny opening, maybe about the size an injection wound might leave behind, like a shot.

Ixane hadn't given him any hypos recently, and Lard Nar was certain he'd upped all of his vaccinations several months ago. The wound was much too small and perfect to be a remnant of the puncture wound Zim had given him, and he couldn't remember receiving any bug bites recently either.

But surely the whispering, anxious inner voice inside him was just paranoia? Stress from recent events perhaps, spurning him to seek out threats that were not there?

What could such an insignificant thing even be anyway?

Again, his mind flashed back to Amalia, this time to her cruel, insane laughter and it was suddenly so real and all around him that he jumped back from the mirror in fright, his breathing ragged like he'd run a marathon, and he clutched at his heart in an attempt to steady himself.

He shook his head quickly, frantically, and tried to regain himself.

She wasn't here nor was she anywhere in the galaxy – not anymore anyway. It was a simple memory born of nerves.

"It's alright." He soothed himself, once he gained his breath. He placed a hand on the mirror and stared back into his own reflected eyes. "This is normal." He told his mirror self, "I daresay flashbacks are rather common in PTSD victims. This last mission was… unsettling… you are simply unsettled, reacting to nothing. It's nothing."

He found himself nodding along, swallowing the sugar coated drivel he fed himself.

Because it was logical, wasn't it?

He was suffering some sort of trauma. Could scarcely fall asleep the night before and just kept waking up confused, terrified and drenched in sweat. Just kept having that dream.

It was all too easy to ignore his mounting unease in favor of a logical answer.

Because he was the Captain wasn't he? He couldn't start to unravel now, not with so much on the line. He had to keep his horns rigid, stay sturdy, hold himself together somehow.

He took a deep breath, stared himself square in the eye, "You are going to stop entertaining these silly fantasies. You are fine. It's most likely a bug bite, no need to delve further."

His mirror-self nodded.

"Good." He said, his stomach twisting wretchedly in his gut, the hackles of his neck rising in an unnamed unease practically screaming at him to listen. He resolutely ignored it, not swayed by the inexplicable anxiety he felt, and grabbed his toothbrush. He told himself a little more firmly, "We'll spend no more time on this folly!" And rammed his toothbrush into his mouth with a fierce nod to himself.

"What are you doing?" Zim asked blearily and Lard Nar nearly jumped out of his skin.

How much had Zim heard?

"N-nothing!" Lard Nar squeaked, accidentally inhaling a bit of toothpaste and briefly choking on his words.

Well that was convincing.

"Mmkay." Zim, oblivious as always, didn't seem perturbed and he simply turned on the sink and stared at the drinkable cleaning fluid that came out like some sort of zombie.

It was obvious from the squint of his eyes and tone of his voice that he'd opted to sleep instead of recharge the night before and probably hadn't even noticed that he'd given his Captain a minor heart attack with his skulking about.

How very… odd…

It was stranger still that the Commander immediately dismissed his own question and continued to stare at the sink for a few strenuous seconds before he declared, "Zim had a strange dream last night."

"Didn't we all." Lard Nar sighed.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing!" The Captain chuckled nervously, shaking his head quickly. No need to get Zim riled up so early in the morning – he'd already decided it had just been stress anyway. Lard Nar recovered quickly and brushed his comment away with some light teasing, "And here I thought you were above this whole 'sleeping' nonsense. What did you call it? A nightly invitation to be deleted?"

"Well it is." Zim snapped. He sent the Captain a glare and purposefully bumped into him as he reached for his tooth file amid the messy pile of toiletries. "You're always so defenseless when you sleep, it's embarrassing. You're supposed to be my fearsome leader not some dream-loving… Dream lover! Haven't you taught yourself to sleep with your eyes open yet?"

"If I ever subject myself to such misfortune, I promise you'll be the first to know." Lard Nar rolled his eyes and stared resolutely at his mirror self. "And I'll have you know I happen to enjoy dreaming, thank you."

Well, at least he usually did - he tried to keep his mind firmly away from his own torrential dreams and repressed a shiver.

"Anyway." Lard Nar continued quickly, "It sounds like you're not above indulging, if you had a dream. Do tell."

"I wasn't sleeping." Zim shot back defensively and he stretched his arms up high and yawned, before setting to work filing his incisors to sharp points. "I think my charger malfunctioned or something."

"Oh?" The Captain asked, he spat quickly and grabbed his mouthwash, taking a sip and sloshing it about his mouth before spitting again. Then he set about washing his face and horns.

Zim's nasal ridge wrinkled in distaste and he took a step to the side so the Vortian could grab his horn cream, "Zim isn't really sure, but I kept getting these strange snippets. It was almost like being back in the Academy."

Lard Nar paused, curious, "How do you mean?"

"Hmmm…" Zim's eyes narrowed and he focused on his teeth for a moment, thinking, then he gave the Captain a look, "In the Academy, Zim kept having these stupid dreams, just dooky really, snippets of memories or places that Zim had never seen - nothing important really, but the Elite Training Commander told us it was because we all had to charge in the same vicinity. Last night was kinda like that," He nodded to himself and frowned, "Except… Zim's never had a dream like that so far away from my kind, especially since I separated from the mainframe."

His frown deepened and he mused, "It was almost like there was a nearby signal interrupting my charging." He laughed at this and waved his file loftily on his wrist as if beating away the idea – labeling it too silly to even consider, "What dooky right? I'm the only Irken out here, there's probably just a malfunction with my unit. Zim bets some stupid files Zim should've deleted were accessed while Zim was charging or something. I'll fix it today."

"Ah hah." Lard Nar laughed weakly, unsure why he suddenly felt so violently uncomfortable, "If you wouldn't mind me asking – what was this dream about?"

"Hmmm…. Who knows?" Zim sighed, he set down his tooth file and began to wash his face.

Lard Nar sighed, "I'd say you should know. Did you forget it already? I thought Irken memory was better than that."

Zim slammed the flat of his palm against the counter, "My memory is perfect, much like myself." He snapped and aggressively began to towel off his face. His movements slowed after a moment and he sighed, "Dreams are different, I don't record them and they happen so rarely…"

The Captain scoffed, "You could at least try. Otherwise why are you even bothering to complain to me about it?"

"Zim wasn't complaining!" The Irken insisted, throwing down the towel, "I just thought you'd understand that dreams are terrible."

"Dreams are not terrible." Lard Nar sighed, "What, was it a nightmare, then?"

"Maybe…" Zim mused and he closed his eyes like he was trying to bring back the memory, "Zim thinks… there was water…"

Lard Nar froze, churning waters and screaming people immediately sprang to mind and he stared at his Commander, "Water?" He asked, his throat feeling dry, "What about water?"

"I don't know, like a river or something? But inside some kind of… house?"

Lard Nar's eyes practically budged out of his skull and he was about to press the Irken for more details when the Comm Unit in Zim's Pak began to chirp. The Captain ducked out of the way with a squeal of displeasure as Zim immediately answered, with no warning, on video mode with the Vortian in full view.

"Hey!" He snapped, vainly attempting to cover himself and his cheeks burned a brilliant blue when the caller immediately answered with a wolf whistle.

"Well, well, isn't that a pretty picture?" Ixane's gruff voice filtered into the room and Lard Nar could practically hear the razor sharp smile she must be sporting, "Zim, angle yourself a bit to the left, will you?"

Zim rolled his eyes and purposefully angled himself to the right, ignoring Ixane's 'tsk' of displeasure and Lard Nar's silent 'thank you'. "Zim won't assist your carnal perversions." The Commander snapped, ignoring the eyeroll the Doctor sent him, "If you have something to say, hurry up and say it."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Ixane spat sarcastically, "Am I interrupting you and Nar in your shirtless wonderland over there? I thought we were gonna brief the kid before the others but if you want him going in blind that's just zlarfing peachy keen. Go ahead Nar, get on your big stage and let him know you axed Amalia in front of the entire crew while he's just another face in Ensign section of the crowd. I'm sure that won't be traumatizing at all."

"You know." Zim said with a sniff, "I don't really appreciate your attitude and this sounds a lot like a complaint for Nar. Why are you even calling me? I have to get ready for training the recruits."

Lard Nar sighed and reluctantly went to stand by Zim, just barely off screen, saying, "It's all well and good to go over the plan of action, but don't you think it's a bit early to be calling us with this? I don't have tea plans with Dib for another couple hours."

"Uh, correction, you had tea plans with the kid about twenty degrees ago and he came to me when he couldn't get in your zlarfing quarters!" Ixane spat, there was a crinkling sound and the sound of furious footsteps as Ixane threw open her office door and went into the main Med Bay, spewing profanities as she went. She adjusted her Comm Unit and pointed it at Dib, who sat awkwardly in one of the plush chairs in her waiting room. "Say hi Sparkles."

"Oh, uh… hi?" Dib squeaked, startled. He'd been looking at his twiddling thumbs when the Doctor had burst into the room and practically thrown her Comm Unit at him. He took one look at the screen and looked back towards Ixane, who was off to the right somewhere. "Uh… why are you calling Zim? I was supposed to meet Lard Nar."

"Hi." Zim greeted back sourly, annoyed that the human had reacted to seeing him like he was a shitty consolation prize. Some thanks that was after last night.

Dib seemed to sense his rudeness and mouthed an apology just as one of Ixane's hands flew into the picture causing the human to duck. It was obvious she was throwing her arms up in exasperation and her tone only complimented her off-screen ire.

"He wouldn't pick up!" Came Ixane's angry voice and then the demand, "Nar, nobody cares about your nips, get in the damn picture!"

The Captain, who was rubbing his temples and taking deep breaths, shot Zim a look and the Irken, with a sigh, walked over and knelt down so he could be on screen. "Hello, Ensign." Lard Nar greeted tiredly, trying his best not to be embarrassed that the day he most hated his own skin was the day everyone got to see it. He crossed his arms awkwardly over his chest. "Was there a mixup with the times? I thought we were meeting at noon."

There was a long, awkward pause on the other end and after a moment Dib said, "Oh! Ah… um… I guess maybe I mixed it up or…"

"Nope." Ixane's face swung back into the picture as she grabbed the Comm from Dib, "Nar, have you seen a clock today?"

"I'm a clock." Zim snapped and puffed up his chest, "And it's still early."

"Yeah, no. No it's not." Ixane spat and turned the Comm to the Med Bay's wall clock, "It's twelve twenty four."

"WHAT?!" Zim and Lard Nar gasped, in perfect unison. They shared a look and then the Captain went sprinting into his room, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be there in five minutes!"

"Nar!" Zim called after him but was too late, the little Vortian already gone to frantically dress himself. Zim narrowed his eyes and turned back to the screen, "Dib-let, put Ixane back on."

"Huh? Oh, er sure?" Dib agreed and tapped Ixane with the Comm until she grabbed it back more aggressively than strictly necessary and went stomping towards her office. He voice was hushed so Dib wouldn't hear as she snarled,

"What in Golbart's name is wrong with you two?! You just had to sleep in today, didn't you?"

"Oh hush your howling face tube." Zim snapped, "This is obviously one of your stoopid pranks. Zim does not 'sleep in' and I certainly would have noticed if it was so late. My Pak's internal clock is only at six twenty four."

"Oh, that's nice, so you're effectively six hours behind." The Doctor snapped, "Look, you need to wind your damn gears or whatever it is you people do and get your ass down here. I thought you cared about Sparkles more than this."

"Guh-! S-silence yourself! OF COURSE Zim does not wish to distress the human after yesterday's events but I'm telling you, your clock is wrong. My internal clock automatically updates according to the Quadrant or Planet I'm located in – I'm more precise than any of the equipment on this ship. Your and Dib's clocks must be malfunctioning!"

"Oh really?" Ixane spat.

"Yes really."

"Really?!"

"YES YOU IRR-"

"Let's play a game then." Ixane swiftly cut him off, her face disappearing from view as she turned her Comm around just as she stopped in front of Yin and asked the Nurse with all the candor of a T.V. host, "Nurse, care to tell the Commander the time?"

Yin, who was reading a clipboard, looked up with a frown, their facial fringes tinged in irritation, "And what game is this? Zim has an internal clock."

"Just!" Ixane sighed, irritation clearly evident and she snapped, "Just tell Zim the time, ok?"

Yin rolled their eyes and lifted one spiderlike limb to reveal a wristwatch blinking '12:25' on it. They glared at the Doctor and said in that whispering, deadpan voice of theirs, "May I please return to my work Doctor?"

"Yeah, yeah." Ixane snapped and the footage from the Comm jostled a little as Yin fell out of view and Ixane's feet took up the screen as she walked towards someone else. A slender male Plookisian nurse came into view and Ixane asked the same question. Then she asked another nurse, and a patient, and a mechanical Ensign who was repairing a coolant.

The Ensign rolled out from his workstation and frowned, "Uh… Doctor, doesn't the Commander-"

"Answer the question Nurse."

"Um… ok? It's 12:25?"

Ixane's face came into view with a deviant glee, "See?" She smiled sweetly.

Zim rolled his eyes, "Fine. I think you've made your-"

"Oh, hold on, I don't think I can hear you over all this I'm Right." Ixane spat and spun around to walk out into the hall, past a confused looking Dib still in the waiting room, and grabbed a passing Ensign by the shirt. "Hey. What time is it?"

"Uh… 12:26?" The Ensign asked, clearly confused and looking just a bit fearful as he stared at Zim's face.

"Ok Ixane…" Zim grit his teeth, contemplating just hanging up, "I think I get it-"

"Oh wait! What's that? I think I hear someone coming!" Ixane's cheerful voice cut off Zim and the video feed panned around to focus on whomever was rounding the corner, "Hello~" She sing-songed, "Could you please tell me the ti- oh. Hey Nar, that was fast."

The Captain's flushed face came into view, he'd clearly broken his own rule and sprinted down to Med Bay, arriving an impressive two minutes after being called. He took one look at Zim and frowned, his voice going deep with that authoritative tone of his, "Commander, why aren't you dressed yet!? Get down here immediately."

Zim flushed bright purpled, "Oh, uh, I'm on my way."

The last thing Zim saw before he hung up was Ixane's grinning face and he snapped a quick, "BE QUIET!" before cutting the call and sprinting into his own room to change.

Hey guys, sorry for the short chapter and being MIA for so long, its been an interesting couple months.

For all my North American followers, today's update will hopefully take your mind away from the blight of a President we just swore in.

I want each and every one of you to know that you are worthy of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness just as any and all North Americans, and just as any and all humans.

Human decency is NOT a weakness. Standing up for those who are overshadowed by the powers seeking to silence them is NOT futile.

I encourage you to raise your voice LOUD.

I want you to know that no matter what drivel our president spews, you are NOT less because you are queer, trans, a woman, a person of color, a person with a disability, a Muslim, a Native American or ANYTHING ELSE. Even as our rights are attacked we will continue to stand up and fight for what is right. Our voices will be heard, no matter the cost.

YOU MATTER.

Fear not the turbulent political changes happening in Britain, North America or France. Fear not the world that seeks to revert back to Imperialism and Fascism. Fear not the ugly fear driven hatred in the world, for every darkness we cross is born only in relation to the light that balances it.

You are not insignificant, you do not deserve less because you are not white, straight, cis, wealthy, able bodied or of a 'proper' religion.

You are magnificent, powerful beyond your comprehension and worthy of anything and everything the preferred class believes is their entitlement.

Don't you EVER let ANYONE tell you that you do not matter. I don't care who it is, be it stranger or your own damn President.

YOU MATTER.

And I will fight with everything I have to ensure that our country nay our World understands that, and I hope you do too.

Stand up for what is RIGHT no matter the COST.

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season, and in this turbulent New Year I hope that no matter where you come from you find the courage and inner strength to believe in your own worth and raise your voice loud.

Remember, in the words of Elie Wiesel, notable American Jewish writer, political activist and holocaust survivor: There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest.

Do not fail to protest injustice as you see it, because silence does nothing but aide the oppressor.

You.

Matter.