A very special thanks to my vital contributors to this chapter. Please check out their stories and send adoring notes to vetnangal56, Mizzztery (also on ao3!), and Monofpoke4life (on a03 as well!). They were hugely helpful in buffing out my mental roadblocks to get this chapter goin' and my brain a'flowin.

CH 3

Temper, Temper

By the time she made it home, she was struggling to come to terms with the fact that it was still the same day. She'd woken up little desire to do anything besides make it through to the weekend, and now here she was, walking around with a mechanical parasite embedded into her spine. Oh how she wondered what sweet joys the rest of the night would bring.

She was so exhausted with the events of the day she forgot she was supposed to be mad at her brother for lying to her. Thus, when he peeked his head out from the kitchen, she gave him little more than her customary grunt as a greeting.

"Hey Gaz," he called. "I made spaghetti."

As they got older, her brother was able to tolerate microwave dinners less and less. He'd also gained a strange fixation on their eating habits, trying to persuade Gaz to the ways of vegetables and daily vitamins. It was a fruitless effort; Gaz wanted one meal every day for the rest of her life, and it contained loads of cheese, sauce, and garlic-coated crust. It was too late to persuade her towards the dark side of multivitamins.

Still, she also wasn't going to say no to a dinner she didn't have to cook. And Dib was a decent enough cook, having taken full advantage of Foodio—one of many of her father's inventions—until the thing had been dismantled for burning toast one too many times. Left to their own devices, Gaz had resorted once more to the wonders of reheatable frozen foods, while her brother had nurtured his newfound love for cooking.

She slid into a chair and nearly knocked herself out of it.

The PAK caught against the backrest, nearly sending it to the floor. She sat down on it hard, wincing at the loud clang it made.

Dib spun around, only half a serving of spaghetti loaded onto his plate. "What the hell was that?" He asked, looking around.

"I dunno," she replied, rising back to her feet. "On second thought, I'm gonna head upstairs. I'm tired."

Dib frowned, "You got back weirdly late. Did you stop by somewhere?"

She shrugged, doing her best to remain nonchalant as she accepted his offered plate. "Took a longer walk than usual. It was nice out."

"I guess," he replied, though he seemed willing to let it go. "Oh yeah, hey, thanks for covering for me today. I'll get you Bloaty's for dinner tomorrow. I would've done it today, but the spaghetti sauce was gonna expire."

Gaz paused, "You said it was a meeting with your counselor, right?"

"Emergency hearing," he grumbled, bitterness lacing his words. "It was an 'optional' group meeting until the stupid car thing. What is it with people getting so possessive about their cars? Zim blows mine up all the time, and you don't see me reporting it to the police."

Gaz chose not to point out that the local police, state, and federal police now all screened her brother's calls. He was technically right. Dib normally took Zim's habitual destruction of his property on the chin, rarely reacting with little more than a sigh when the fight was all said and done.

Gaz grunted her acknowledgement. That explained it. She should've known; Dib was rarely so stupid as to lie to her. She always found out one way or the other.

She made it about halfway up the stairs when he poked his head around the archway again.

"Hey," he said. "Is that a new backpack?"

She froze.

After a beat, she sent him a nasty scowl. "You and Zim got your blood on the other one."

With anyone else, the phrase would've sounded insane, and required a great deal more contextual information.

Instead, her brother merely cringed, nodding. He didn't bother to ask her which fight it was; there were far too many to keep track of, after all. "Er, right. Sorry. Night Gaz."

"Night," she mumbled, trying to keep from hurrying. Steady pace. Don't arouse suspicion.

She made it into the security of her room, exhaling slowly.

Come on Gaz, she thought. It's just a few days of this. Maybe a week. Zim was a moron, but he also had luck that leprechauns would envy. He'd probably be in the middle of throwing a tantrum about how impossible the whole thing was and envy up popping it off on accident. Nothing to worry about. It'd be fine.

Now if only she actually believed that.

Whatever. All of this stupidity could wait until tomorrow. Tonight she was going to eat her stupid spaghetti, turn her television on, and let her frustrations loose on Mega Pig 3000.

Showing up at school the next day, Gaz half expected to be ambushed by Zim the moment she arrived.

Thankfully for her, he seemed to be following his and her brother's usual routine of actively avoiding each other in the mornings. Dib was adamant that evil should not occur before 8am, a rule which Zim seemed weirdly accommodating towards. She was pretty sure it was just another misunderstanding regarding Earth culture, but Zim rarely caused havoc between the wee hours of the morning. She wondered if maybe he was just also not a morning person.

Regardless, Gaz made it successfully into fourth period without anything of note happening. A few stray eyes gave her weird looks for choosing to keep her "backpack" on while she remained seated, but for the most part, nothing of note happened.

She should've known her luck would run out.

A screechy feedback noise rattled throughout the room, causing a cascade of complaining students, many of whom reached to protect their ears.

"Quiet!" Snapped the cracked, brittle voice of their teacher.

"Ahem, testing, testing. Hello? Is this thing working—? What? Oh, I'm on already? Oh. Ahem. Gazlene Membrane. Zim . . . er . . . yeah, Zim. Please report to the principal's office. Gazlene Membrane and Zim, please report to the principal's office. Thank you."

The feedback rang them out, causing another wave of groans.

Her teacher swung a ruler accusingly towards the purple-haired teen. "Gaz! Out!"

Only a few pairs of eyes swung towards her. The rest wisely kept their attention on their desks, or were simply drooling too much to register anything aside from the lingering ringing in their ears.

Gaz slowly got to her feet, ignoring the awkward bump of her disguised 'backpack' against the back of her chair. Wary, she made her way out of the classroom and into the hallways.

Idly, she wondered what the odds were of her brother not noticing that she and his arch-nemesis had both been loudly and publicly summoned to the principal's office. Dib sort of tuned out everything that wasn't 'Zim' when it came to announcements. Maybe he'd missed the part where her name had been mentioned and just heard 'Zim' blaring around in that massive head of his. She could get lucky.

And maybe toast would fly in from the window and make all her problems just ~ disappear ~.

She got about two buildings away from the front office when she finally—predictably—ran into Zim. He seemed both frightened and irritated, eyes darting about. She only got a few steps out into the open before he spotted her.

"You!" He hissed, darting far too into her personal space for her liking. "What did you do, dirt-child? Have you broken our truce already? Did you go to the Earth authorities?!"

She pressed two fingers against his forehead, shoving him backwards. "No," she said flatly. "I have no idea what's going on, stupid. Calm down."

He hissed at her in a way that gave Gaz the strange desire to obtain a spray bottle.

"This better not be treachery, little Gaz," he continued darkly. "I assure you, you will rue the day you double-crossed Zim!"

"I didn't double cross you, moron," she snapped, bumping past him. "Be quiet. Your voice is annoying."

He fell in line with her quickly, seeming to once more have distracted himself with his own paranoia.

The human girl was a nuisance, but certainly did not possess the same deceptive qualities as her far more irritating sibling. Had she betrayed Zim, she would have admitted her folly with the same apathy she directed towards her own defense—although perhaps with an accompanying smirk. The fact her brother wasn't already screeching down the hallways, demanding his blood, was also a fairly large indicator that she'd kept her bargain. The child could live.

. . . For now.

If not PAK-related, what else could possibly have bound them together?

It seemed they'd soon receive their answer. Foregoing the impulse to burst into the room, he allowed the human female to enter first. Unfortunately, she was several inches shorter than he, and a poor excuse for a meat shield. The disapproving, sour look of the secretary was still leveled on both of them, although Zim took note that she seemed much more disheartened at the sight of him than the human girl. He didn't know why; his frequent presence was a gift. The elder, fuschia-lipped creature should be grateful for his occupancy in her day!

"Oh," she smacked her lips. "You two. Right." She cast her eyes back towards her monitor, gesturing one unusually long chartreuse talon further into the office. "Counselor's office." She leveled Gaz with a flat look. "You know where it is, right sweetie?"

The girl's muscles tensed, clearly taking offense to the comment, though Zim didn't know why. His gaze flicked between the two females, trying to discern the elusive answer. Unfortunately, visual queues gave him nothing. The purple demon swept off, clearly refusing to bother with a reply. Unsure of what else to do—and not knowing the location of this 'counselor's office'—Zim followed.

They only made it about halfway down the hallway before a door opened.

A creature of unfathomable jiggle appeared from the doorway.

Horrified, Zim's hands flew instinctively to the girl's shoulders, planting her firmly between himself and the hideous, gelatinous monster before him.

Gaz nearly came out of her skin at the sound of Zim's unexpected scream, adrenaline pounding through her tense muscles in anticipation of an emergency. The feeling of his claws digging into her shoulders only scared the shit out of her all the more.

"Get away!" He screamed from behind her. "Get away, hideous beast of jelly!"

. . . What?

"Zim," she growled. "Let go of me now."

"Oh," the counselor chimed in, one hand idly touching her downturned mouth. "They warned me he was . . . odd. Oh dear. Er, hello Gazlene."

Given Zim seemed to have no intention of releasing her, Gaz took matters into her own hands.

She latched onto the thumb of each of his fingers, bowing them firmly in unnatural directions. She received the desired effect nearly immediately.

Zim crumpled, jerking his hands away from the wicked creature. He cradled his poor, wounded appendages against his chest, hunching away from her and her pain-bringing. He hissed at her again, the noise morphing into the beginnings of a snarl as she advanced.

A high pitched clicking noise had both of them pausing.

"Children!" The counselor said quickly, holding up a strange piece of plastic. It seemed to be the source of the infernal clicking. "Peace! Positive energy! Recall your breathing exercises!"

It did have the desired effect in foregoing the physical altercation that had been moments away from occurring. Unfortunately for the well-meaning woman, it was not for the reason she hoped.

"The hippo spouts nonsense," Zim hissed, in barely audible tones.

Gaz snorted, speaking in equally quiet tones. "She's just overweight, Zim. It's not a crime."

He eyed her with a great deal of distrust, clearly unconvinced, but he offered no further commentary.

Apparently satisfied, the counselor ushered them into the room. It was immediately obvious where they were supposed to sit; two empty, ominous chairs sat beside each other in front of the principal's desk.

Zim was hardly unnerved. It was a familiar sight to him. Although, usually the other chair was occupied by the other Membrane sibling. For all their rivalry, Zim and Dib were of equal opinions when it came to dealing with the educational staff of their school. They were united in their hatred of one another, refusing to make any concessions save for only the most dire of situations. Zim could count on Dib to be just as objectionary as he when it came to the defense of their feud.

His sister, on the other hand, he was far less familiar with. Although he loathed the child—and the feeling was clearly mutual—their understanding was much more fresh. Faced with potential consequences, would she keep her word? Or would she use every opportunity to throw Zim into the proverbial Vortian horn, as her sibling did?

They would soon find out.

"Well," began the gaunt, middle-aged man. "I'm glad you could join us, students,"

He stressed the sentence strangely, clearly trying to hint at something. What it was, Gaz had no idea. A glance at Zim proved he seemed as equally clueless.

"It's come to our attention that the two of you decided the full expanse of your detention was optional," the principal began.

Zim and Gaz reacted in unison, slumping into their chairs with immediate relief. The two shared a look, clearly thinking along the same lines; nothing actually serious, just stupid bureacratic posturing.

The principal visibly perked, clearly misinterpreting the relief as exactly the opposite.

"Now now, children," he admonished. "We mustn't pout. We can't have students stomping all over our system of disciplines, after all. Good heavens, imagine the anarchy."

He shuddered, and Gaz swore for a moment that she heard his bones rattle.

"You must've known this would happen," he added, throwing in a disappointed scowl.

Honestly, Gaz had completely forgotten about ditching detention. It was so far down her list of priorities at the moment that she couldn't even fathom sparing the energy to maintain the memory of their cover story.

"Now," he shuffled through his papers, his frown growing more pronounced. "Eh, let's see. Hmm. What were you in detention for again?"

"Fighting," Zim replied.

The old, weathered head rose sharply. "With each other?"

"Yes," Gaz cut in. Likely Dib's slip had specifically listed the infraction. Now was not the time to blow their cover.

The principal scowled darkly at Zim, lowering his spectacles. "It is extremely inappropriate to lay hands on a young lady, Zim."

Gaz was forced to press her lips together to keep from laughing outright. A glance at Zim showed the subject of outdated chivalry was lost to him. He looked completely disoriented, and equally disinterested in the situation as a whole.

Which he was. Usually in these situations, the principal skipped straight over the part where they were required to make amends and get straight to a half-hearted lecture about depreciating property values and rising insurance rates. That, however, had taken years to establish. Zim had hoped that the head educational drone would borrow some of that defeated attitude and apply it to this Membrane as well. Clearly, there would be no such luck. This called for an alternative strategy.

"The human female was a truly worthy opponent," he began. "She fought with honor, and—!"

The sharp kick to his ankle stopped his speech in its tracks.

"What he means," Gaz said, shooting him a glare. "Is that we worked it out. We're fine now. Right, Zim?"

Meeting her eyes, he slowly nodded. After a beat, he caught on, flashing a winning grin towards the two unmoved adults. ". . . Yes. Yes, of course. Everything is all well and good now. The dirt-creature and I are perfectly normal, pleasant Earth-comrades."

The principal eyed the two of them suspiciously for a moment. After a beat, he leaned back into his chair, fiddling with a pen between his long, spidery fingers. "Be that as it may," he began. "While we have an . . . agreement regarding you and Dib, Zim, we cannot have you fighting with other students as well."

"It was nothing," Gaz insisted. "Really."

"It's as the female says," Zim agreed, crossing his arms. "The argument was of little consequence. An overreaction on the part of your staff."

"You just said you fought, dear," the counselor chimed in nervously.

"Verbally," Gaz replied. "It was a completely verbal argument. Zim's shouting just always makes people nervous." She shot the principal a thin smile. "Trying to prevent property damage, I'm assuming."

The principal reared up as though slapped, "I don't think I like your tone, young lady."

Privately, Zim agreed. The human female's noise maker was unusually gravelly in comparison to her peers. It reminded Zim of rolling thunder, and its hated companion, rain. It made him nervous by instinct, one which he greatly resented.

Gaz snorted, sinking further into her chair. It was somewhat difficult, given the new obstruction of the PAK. She wasn't used to accommodating for its bulk yet. She caught Zim's half-narrowed, evaluating look from the corner of her eye and huffed, forcing herself to stop fidgeting.

Her fingers thumbed at the edge of the well-laquered desk. She offered no reply to the elder human aside from a dismissive grunt.

"This behavior is unacceptable and unbecoming of our students," he insisted. "You're both extremely bright, with promising futures. We expect better of you. Both of you," he added, with a glare at Zim.

"Of course," Zim cooed, flashing another megawatt grin. "Zim will be happy to leave the angry little worm-baby alone."

"Zim, be serious," the jiggly creature pressed. "We've half a mind to call your parents again."

That was a sobering suggestion. Over the years, as Zim grew 'older' in the eyes of the human educational system, he'd gleefully discovered how much easier it was to pass as simply a neglected adolescent meat-sack. It even seemed to garner him a modicum of sympathy amongst his teachers. As a result, he'd been rather lax on the robo-parents' upkeep over the past years. It would be difficult to scramble together the repairs in time for any sort of parent conference.

"My parents are out of town," Zim said quickly. Too quickly, given the suspicious glare on their principal's face.

"Same," Gaz replied flatly. "You might've seen it on the news."

The principal merely grunted his acknowledgement. Clearing her throat, clearly the party most interested in cordiality in the room, her counselor intervened with a wary smile. "A-And how is Mega Toast coming along, Gazlene?"

"Great," she said curtly. "Hence the conference. In Sydney," she added, with a pointed glare at the principal.

The elder man pinched the bridge of his nose, his affect turning strangely exhausted.

"Oh, children," he began, lowering his bony fingers.

The gaze he gave made Zim bristle on instinct, the expression grating immediately on a nerve. It was a look he hated above all; pity.

"We know you both have such inattentive parents," the vice principal began. "But that's no excuse to take it out on our insurance."

"Mr. Cult!" The counselor jumped in, eyes wide with disapproval.

Movement beside him caught Zim's attention.

The little human girl was seething. He had never seen such anger contained within a creature aside from himself; a bomb poised to blow.

Zim felt similarly displeased. The man was talking in circles, clearly attempting to incite a reaction between the two of them. It was a strategy he often employed against the almighty Zim and the human female's her brother, one that had long since stopped working. Clearly, the inclusion of Gaz in their conversation rather than Dib meant the elder creature was putting out his feelers again, seeking weakness; vulnerabilities to pick at and exploit in order to cause a punishable reaction. Pathetic.

Although famed for his temper, Zim was hardly so easily manipulated. The tactic was far more successful on the Dib-monkey than he. Zim had spent his entire upbringing within a military academy specifically designed to weed out weakness. Irkens were a cruel, monolithic race. Emotions were genetically engineered out of them, camaraderie a smeet's fantasy. The pathetic comments of this wrinkly creature were nothing compared to the cruelty of Zim's former trainers. This soon-to-be coffin-dweller knew nothing of the hardships Zim had endured.

"My dad," the girl growled, in a voice low enough to make the small fibers on Zim's antennae stand up on end beneath his wig. "Is busy. Too busy to deal with a skeleton in his funeral suit trying to find weak excuses to meet him."

"Gaz!" The woman chimed.

"Perhaps it isn't me your father doesn't have time for," Mr. Cult replied, hiding a smile beneath interlaced fingers.

"Mr. Cult, this is behavior most unbecoming!" Shrilled the elder woman. Redirecting her attentions, she reached towards Gaz, hands hovering uncomfortably in the space between them. "Gazlene, please—remember your breathing exercises, dear!"

Zim, for his part, was quickly growing amused with the situation. Without her ire directed towards him, Gaz's rage was actually quite entertaining. She practically glowed with it, the force of it near tangible in the room. He giggled quietly under his breath. The white-hot, simmering energy was delicious.

"Zim!" The counselor chided.

He only snickered harder, one clawed hand reaching up in a half-hearted attempt to hide the noise.

Gaz hardly noticed. She felt her face flushing hot with the insult.

Her father was a touchy subject for both Membrane siblings, especially with Gaz in particular. The subject of their father's absence was a surefire way to incite the teenagers to at least a sullen mood. Where Dib grew quiet, bitter, and withdrawn, Gaz became a hairpin trigger, poised to incinerate whatever had crossed her.

Clearly, Mr. Cult had become far more accustomed to the defeatist attitude of her brother.

She leaned forward in her chair, hands poised on the arms of it, clearly ready to leap out of it whenever the impulse overwhelmed her.

"My dad," she began, voice pitched with the fever of her rage. "Is none of your business, and our relationship is none of your concern. Maybe if you had half as many brain cells as you did sun spots, you'd be intelligent enough to do your job and stop mistaking me for my brother. He's the one with the feud against Zim, not me, and you better leave me out of it or—!"

"Or what, Gazlene?" The elder man interrupted.

"Or I'll make you wish my brother's tendency to explode chunks of your building was your biggest problem."

He lifted his chin, eyes narrowing hawkishly. "Is that a threat? Are you threatening your principal, young lady?"

"Mr. Cult!" Shrieked the counselor again.

The two began to argue in heated, half-interrupted sentences that Zim could barely follow. Volatile as he was, he was growing bored with the situation. Someone needed to start hitting someone soon, or he might wander off to find other amusements. This meeting was as pointless as it was dull.

Something caught his attention.

He looked around the room, trying to discern what it was that was making the fine hairs on his antennae stand on end. Something was prickling at his instincts that he didn't yet consciously recognize. On his back, his PAK blinked dully with the effort of trying to find the source of his alarm. What was he reacting to?

It was difficult to tell over the shrieking of the staff grating on his nerves. He cast a scowl in their direction, though it went completely unnoticed. They seemed to be escalating in a bubble of their own rage. Clearly there was no love lost between the counselor and the principal.

"The board will be hearing about your behavior here! It's no wonder you have such troubled children!" She shrieked. "How can they be expected to achieve academically with such poor guidance!"

"Offering guidance is your job, counselor! If anyone is to be blamed, I assure you, it's not me!"

"I am a representative of the city, not a member of your staff! You will not—!"

"I will not allow some latchkey child and her little boyfriend to disrespect me! It's completely unacceptable!"

His PAK beeped.

A small noise, barely discernible in the shrieking of the room.

His eyes swung towards the girl beside him at once.

Her eyes were blown wide, pupils dilated in near feral outrage. She was bristling at the unfamiliar insult the gaunt male had directed towards her, face flushing nearly as purple-red as her hair. Her hands knuckled white against the chair, trembling ever so slightly with the effort she was exerting not to lunge across the desk. None of this was what alarmed Zim.

Barely discernible over the inane babble of the elder humans, he heard the stuttering clicks.

PAK legs.

Activating themselves.

His hand clamped down on her arm. Hard.

She yanked at it nearly immediately, freeing herself from his grip. "What did I say about touching me?"

"Children!" The counselor cut in. "There's no need to be—!"

"Oh let them, Mildred," snapped the principal. "Perhaps an expulsion will set them straight!"

Zim saw it. He saw the human's limbs pause. His PAK processed it all immensely fast. The human girl was inciting herself into a rage that was, somehow, strong enough to trigger what Zim had initially thought was an entirely dormant PAK.

If the little human lunged, her PAK-legs would follow.

She was going to skewer the humans.

And as entertaining as that would be in any other circumstance, her subsequent arrest would inevitably reveal the Irken technology stuck onto her back.

Tallest damn it all!

Zim's hand clamped down on the child's shoulder, locking her in place in the same moment he himself rose to his feet.

"Insolent little creature of saggy filth!" He shrieked. "You will rue the day you spoke such nonsense with your own noise-hole!"

The principal reared backwards, face purpling. "WHAT did you just say to me?!"

"Your incompetence is as pathetic as it is laughable!" Zim shouted. He slammed his hands down on the desk hard enough to make several objects topple. "Is this the best you can do?"

"Why, you—!"

"Your building disintegrates faster than the functionality of your organs," Zim snarled. "Judging by your flimsy, disgusting arterial glands, the building may last longer!"

"H-How did you know about—?"

"Your death will only be mourned by the maggots forced to feed on you!" He shrieked, leaning down heavily against the desk. "Your worth will dissolve into the earth of this pathetic planet! Your perceived achievements will mean nothing! You and your insignificant history will die! And the moment you do, you will be deleted from the database of this horrible establishment, you stinking skeletal creature! You will suffer a miserable, agonizing fate, cold, alone, and abandoned by your own people! Your life is worthless to this doomed, dying sphere, and when you perish, your death will be celebrated, you miserable, wretched speck!"

The room hung heavily with silence, Zim's chest rising and falling heavily to regain air. His throat was raw from his own screeching.

All parties in the room gaped at him openly.

Gaz felt like all the wind had been knocked out of her sails. One moment she'd been seeing red, literally seconds from dooming the raggedy old man across from her, and the next, Zim had intervened with a frankly . . . shockingly personal speech.

Had this been for her benefit? Seconds earlier he'd clearly been trying to calm her down, her anger plainly projected to even his oblivious self. But . . . why would Zim care if she was upset? If anything, she figured he'd think his arch-nemesis's little sister getting herself into trouble was hilarious. Hadn't he literally just been cackling a few minutes ago? What in the world was this about?

She actively did her best to avoid everything and anything to do with Zim and Dib's dumb rivalry. That being said, she was also pretty sure Zim's version of 'allies' didn't come with safeguarding her emotional state. This was weird. Really weird.

Furthermore, his whole speech felt weirdly specific. Like, worrying specific. Not that Gaz worried about much of anything besides keeping her stupid brother and her oblivious father, but she wasn't an idiot. There was something going on here. She didn't care in the least, but . . . I mean, come on. What the hell was that about?

"Dude . . ." She said.

Zim ignored her completely, bearing down on the brittle creature in front of them both.

However, Gaz's quiet word seemed to have brought him back to his senses. He began sputtering, trembling with outrage.

"Suspended!" The principal shouted, pounding his wrinkled hand on the table repeatedly. "Suspension for the next week!"

Zim let out another vicious hiss, only inches from the elder man's face.

"Two weeks!" He shrilled. "Two weeks, young man!"

Undeterred, Zim snarled like a wild-cat, startling even Gaz. The elder man was equally affected.

He reared back, hand clutching his chest. Gaz's eyes widened as he began to keel over.

"Oh dear! Mr. Cult? Mr. Cult, are you alright?"

The elder man's mouth flapped like a fish, continuing to grab aimlessly at his chest.

"Oh dear, oh my—children!" She said sharply. "The meeting is over, please excuse us!"

Zim gave one last degrading sneer towards the elder human before spinning on his heel. To Gaz's growing surprise, he stopped in front of her.

"Come, human," he ordered. "We're leaving."

"Uh," she leaned around him, glancing at the escalating situation occurring behind the principal's desk. "Right. Sure."

She rose to her feet, wincing at the small discomfort. Her back muscles were really not used to holding this sort of posture for so long.

Zim slammed open the door, eying the surrounding, scattered humans distrustfully.

Someone she vaguely recognized from Dib's grade sat in a waiting chair, frowning at Zim's erratic behavior. "Bro, what's your deal?"

He hissed much the same way he had at Mr. Cult, sending the boy flying from his chair and onto the ground.

Satisfied, Zim marched from the room and out into the hallway, only pausing to hold the door open to ensure the human female was following.

The moment the office doors slammed shut, Gaz felt extremely uncomfortable. Was she supposed to . . . thank him? How did these sorts of allegiances work between him and Dib? She was pretty sure her brother would've exploded if he ever had to sincerely express gratitude towards his green nemesis, but still. This was an entirely unfamiliar situation to her. No one really had ever defended Gaz before, rightly assuming the girl could handle herself.

Whatever.

This was too stupid to waste brain cells thinking about.

She crossed her arms. "What was that about?"

"Silence, human!" He demanded, eying the hallway wearily.

After a lengthy pause, he grabbed her arm, dragging her into the nearby utility closet. He slammed the door shut awfully loud for someone who appeared to be trying to be secretive, but that was neither here nor there.

He released her the second they were concealed, removing a tablet from his PAK. "Foolish creature, you nearly blew our cover!'

"Me?" She stressed in disbelief. "You're the one who went crazy on that guy!"

"Only to circumvent your own outburst, hideous dirt-monkey," he snarled, waving the tablet about. He paused to point an accusing finger her way. "In your overzealous anger, you failed to notice the activation of your PAK! Had you continued to allow that sack of decaying meat to antagonize you, you would've revealed us both!"

Gaz registered only about one in five of those words was actually relevant. After a brief pause to allow her brain to filter out all the stupid, she shook her self.

"Wait . . . it activated itself?"

"You activated it," Zim stressed, refusing to allow the girl to wheedle her way out of the situation with her passive language. He turned the tablet halfway towards her, gesturing towards artifacts on the screen that were apparently supposed to mean something to her. "It's worse than I initially feared. I'd hoped the PAK was merely in a statis mode, awaiting reactivation. Unfortunately for us both, human, I was wrong."

She snorted. Big shock.

He ignored her outburst, only offering her a scant glare before continuing. "Something in the composition of your stupid human body is activating the emergency protocol sensors within the PAK. It's monitoring your organic signature and perceiving threats. We have to get you back to the base at once!"

"We can't ditch school," Gaz insisted. "People will notice."

"We were suspended, remember?" He snapped.

"No, you were suspended," she corrected. After a beat, she frowned. "Actually . . . you might be right. It was sort of unclear."

"Regardless, your education is far less important than keeping that PAK from reactivating," Zim insisted. "We must return to the base before we're noticed!"

"What do you want to do, Zim, just walk out the door?" She hissed. "There's security all over the place thanks to some people making a habit of inciting brawls."

"Who is Brawl?"

"What?"

"Regardless, exiting the school will be no hardship you need worry about, little Gaz," he said, smirking.

With an exaggerated flourish, the tablet went shooting back into his PAK, snatched away by a weird metal tentacle with four pincer hands. Another one went into the hatch that separated the room from the roof, ripping it off by the hinges. Gaz's nose wrinkled at the thought of navigating the dusty, cobwebbed attic area of the school. She surveyed the room, noticing a distinct lack of ladder.

"The ladder is missing," she pointed out.

"Eh? Oh right. Your useless body cannot jump that high." Zim rolled his eyes, mouth thinning into a displeased line. He held out his arms warily, "Come here, Earth-baby. Zim will . . . eugh, lift you into the vent."

Neither of them made a move to cross the small bit of space the utility closet afforded them. They seemed equally disgusted at the idea of willingly touching one another, even for a brief moment, and regardless of how necessary it was.

After a lengthy pause, Gaz closed her eyes and exhaled sharply.

"Just . . . let's get this over with," she grumbled.

She pressed her lips in a thin line, muscles tensing at the sound of his slowly approaching footsteps. She swore she could feel him hovering in front of her, but adamantly refused to risk eye contact. She would not be embarrassed about this. Zim was a stupid alien probably decades older than her, not some teenage boy looking for a quick, fumbling grope in the janitor's closet.

After an annoyingly lengthy pause, she felt his hands fit themselves into the grooves of her waist. She grimaced, knowing instinctively that his face was probably a mirror image of hers. At least they could be miserable together. Misery loved company.

The sound of the door bursting open startled shrieks from both of them.

Zim's eyes immediately flew to the girl's back, the familiar sound of hydraulics catching his antennae once again.

Already having a firm grip on her, he twisted the both of them, all but slamming her PAK up against the shelf. She grunted in surprise, her hands flying up to his shoulders to steady herself.

"Hey!" The gruff face of a janitorial drone shouted from beneath several layers of beard hair. "What are you two kids doing in here?"

"NOTHING!" Zim shrieked, blocking sight of the girl with his body as much as he was able. The hydraulic noise had stopped. It was as he'd hoped; a good thwack had rattled them back into place. "We are perfectly normal! Doing nothing!"

"Yeah yeah, I know your game, kid," snorted the janitor, grabbing a broom from the closet. "Just keep your mitts off my equipment, okay? And—hey, hold on. Ain't you that kid that blew up the principal's car in the parking lot?"

Zim's eyes darted elsewhere a moment before flicking back towards the human's face.". . . Yes," he said slowly.

"Nice job, I hate that guy," he replied, holding up a hand for a high five. Behind him, he heard Gaz choke on a laugh. Reluctantly, resisting a shiver at the thought of being forced to touch the creature's filthy hands, Zim reciprocated the gesture of camaraderie, turning faintly pale the moment they made contact. "You're always welcome in my closet, man. Just don't get caught by anyone else, okay?"

"Er, right," Zim agreed.

"Hey wait, I know you too," the janitor continued, finally taking note of Gaz. His face drew long, wide eyes darting between the two of them. "Uh, didn't you blow up that car trying to kill her brother?"

Zim didn't understand the relevance of the question. Still, the sanitation drone seemed to be under the impression they were comrades, and Zim was reluctant to antagonize him by refusing to answer. ". . . Yes?"

"Huh, talk about Romeo and Juliet," he chuckled, dragging out his bucket and mop. "Well, you kids have fun." He shot them once last wink before shutting the door behind them. After a brief pause, his hand shot back in, laughing as he flicked the main light off, leaving them only half-lit by the dim bulb in the ceiling.

The silence left them both vaguely sick. Zim, for his part, was only partially sure what the human had been insinuating. But it was enough to make him queasy.

"We never speak of this," he hissed.

"Never," Gaz agreed.

He spun on his heel. With stiff, militaristic movements, he grabbed her by her hips and lifted her into the vent.

"Hey Dib!"

Dib groaned. "Torque, look, I really don't have time to chat. I need to go find Zim." And his sister, but he had a feeling where Zim was, Gaz was as well. The very thought of his sister stuck with Zim was enough to make him queasy.

"Oh yeah, I heard," Torque said sympathetically. "You're a real cool guy for that, man. Real proud of you."

Dib paused, face screwing up in confusion, "Hold on—what?"

"You know, Zim. Gaz." He wobbled back and forth, tossing his signature football ball between his hands. "I didn't think you'd be cool with that."

"What are you talking about?" Dib stressed, finally turning to face the boy fully.

Torque's face fell. "Oh. Oh . . . Oh wow, sorry man. I thought you knew. It's kind of all over the school."

"Torque," Dib stressed. "What's all over the school?"

"The janitor caught Zim and your sister in the utility closet together," Torque blurted out.

Dib froze.

He could feel his brain mentally shutting down, trying to process the words that the larger teen had just said.

Zim.

Gaz.

Janitor's closet.

Together.

Alone.

A heavy hand came down on his shoulder, startling him from the mental collapse occurring in his brain.

"Sorry man," Torque said, patting him awkwardly. "Uh, if you want to talk to them, I think someone saw them trying to ditch together. Some kids saw them messing around—er, I mean, hanging out on the roof."

Roof.

Zim always used the roof to ditch school. It was a straight shot into the part of the parking lot, and from there into the park.

What the hell was going on here?!

"Thanks Torque!" Dib shouted, racing off down the hallway. "I owe you one, buddy!"

Torque watched him go with a naive smile, nodding to himself as he continued his venture towards his lunch table.

Heh.

Buddy.

"Good job, Torque," he praised himself. "We did good today."

Up on the roof, Zim was cursing up a storm.

It seemed their escapade with the principal's automotive vehicle had inspired a surge in security personnel in the area. Furthermore, several delinquent students smoking on the roof had spotted what was supposed to be their undetected escape.

Still, he was Zim, and the human female was not nearly so antagonizing as her sibling. Upon discovering the unexpected article, the girl had quickly diverted them towards the adjacent building. There was a secondary potential escape behind the gym that was rarely guarded. Zim himself recalled cornering her brother—and vise versa—for a good beat-down in that area. Agreeing, they'd quickly made their way towards their destination. It didn't escape Zim's notice that the girl was continuing taking time to close her eyes and simply breathe. He was vaguely familiar with the concept; several teacher's had heavily encouraged 'deep breathing exercises' to calm his temper. It had been futile, of course, but perhaps it was more effective in actual humans rather than alien's simply masquerading as them. Given Zim's current suspicion that her temperament was the major trigger for the PAK, he allowed the pauses without comment, merely keeping an eye out for security personnel until she moved of her own accord. If he could just keep the female calm for long enough and get them off campus, he would summon Gir with his Voot Runner, and they would be back at his base within minutes.

Between the two of them, they fell into a rhythm of sneaking, pausing, and darting about. They didn't have a great deal of time until lunch was over, and their presence in the hallways together would become suspicious. As it were, they were already attracting far too much attention from the few disgusting adolescents they did run into.

But eventually—finally—they made it off campus.

Zim held his wrist up, prompting the communicator on his wrist. "Gir!"

After a moment of static, a pair of bright cerulean eyes appeared. "Hiiii!"

"Come get us at once, Gir!" He barked.

"Okay!"

The connection dropped.

Zim looked up to find the human girl had once again receded into her strange breathing exercises, flicking his eyes over her briefly. "Is the Gaz-human alright?"

She rose away from the wall. "I'll be fine."

He grunted, but didn't otherwise feel the need to Investigate that line of questioning further.

Soon enough, they heard the sounds of something approaching quickly in the distance.

"Hey," she said suddenly.

Zim's eyes swung towards her, one eye narrowing wordlessly.

"About earlier," she began, crossing her arms tightly around her middle. "That thing with the principal . . . thanks, I guess."

Zim looked away quickly. "I didn't do it for you," he reminded her gruffly.

She rolled her eyes. Well, she'd said thank you. Her already brittle conscience was satisfied.

Before them, the Voot Cruiser landed in front of them. Zim approached it immediately, the top opening with a steaming hiss.

"Get in, worm-baby," he ordered. "Zim must attempt to save your wretched life. Again."

"My hero," she mumbled under her breath before following.

(Completed 3.28.21)

(Posted 04.01.21)