Please be aware:
Moving forward, updates are going to temporarily switch to bi-weekly updates until my personal life + professional life settle down a bit. Unfortunately, ailing grandparents and back-to-back family birthdays, graduations, etc mean I have less time to write, and while I could probably spit out chapters that fast, I don't really want to put out anything I'm not happy with. The rewrite is supposed to be a polished, beautiful little marble, and not a scuffed ball o' rushed bullshit.
I was going to start the delays next chapter, but (spoilers) the next chapter is when the ZAGR starts really hitting its stride, so I really want to make sure that ones perfect, with all fanfare and metaphorical cherries neatly placed on top.
I want to say again, as always, a big thank you to all the kind messages and reviews I'm seeing from long-time and returning readers! I'm so happy to see you guys back, and hear how you're doing!
Also, to make up for the delays in between chapters, I'm going to start including small previews at the end of every chapter that have some of my favorite dialogue. Be sure to not to check it out!
Also, for those of you looking for more interaction with yours truly, I'm sure you've all noticed I've broken the tradition of responding to every comment with the A/N of the chapters. However, you can still reach me on tumblr under amyisherenowitsokay, where you'll also get prime ZAGR doodles (I went to art school so, you know, I'm pretty "cool" as the youths say). My asks are open for discussions, commentary, and all manner of Invader Zim-simping you'd like to throw my way.
CH 5
Slumber Parties Suck
The following week was hell.
And Gaz knew hell. She had literally ventured into the den of a pig demon and left with a cup of tea and a curse-free body. (That reminded her; she should probably call him Shadowhog to let him know she'd need to cancel their online game night for the next few weeks.)
Gaz would gladly venture in the realms of thousands of pig demons—and worse—if it meant imposing any sort of physical distance between her and Zim.
He was like a leech, stuck permanently to her skin and refusing to release. A shackle—a second shackle that accompanied the monitoring bracelet he already had locked around her wrist.
As it turned out, their suspension had been adjusted to in-school suspension pending review of 'staff misconduct' reported by Gaz's counselor. Gaz thought Ms. Plume was a fretting hen suffering from delusions of grandeur that translated into 'needing to make a meaningful change,' and self-esteem issues larger than her waistline, but she had to admit, she was clearly more effective when slighted. Gaz spent most of their mandated appointments feigning attentiveness and nodding along to her well-meaning lectures, but clearly the woman had developed some sort of protectiveness towards her. It made her uncomfortable to think about, so she chose not to. At least Mr. Cult was still in the hospital and therefore not her problem at the moment.
If Zim's presence alone wasn't enough to drive her batshit, the accompanying rumors from the student body were. Gaz had never received so much attention in her life. She'd spent years deliberately cultivating a menacing, invisible presence that encouraged everyone to ignore her, for fear of facing her wrath. It was as though everyone had suddenly forgotten that she was a hellspawn fully capable of reaping punishment on anyone who crossed her. Dooming several of her peers had done little to deter the gawking and whispering. She laid the entirety of the blame on Zim. Although, she had to begrudge that it was sort of impressive; somehow his ability to draw the attention of anyone in the same room as him had managed to cancel out her ability to repel them.
All the more reason to strangle him.
Additionally, little to no progress had been made regarding getting the PAK removed. Zim's revelation a week ago had proved as useless as GIR. The only way to disconnect the PAK would be if it lacked a power source, aka if she was dead. Since that would sort of defeat the point, it was discarded as irrelevant.
Along with every single one of his other plans.
The two of them sat in the empty, rickety library mostly alone. The front section of the facilities seemed to be reserved entirely for bookish shut-ins hiding from their tormentors and the occasional student scrambling to finish a last-minute, poorly researched essay that counted for some anxiety-inducing percentage of their grade. Sometimes their frantic, reedy voices drifted towards where she and Zim had been shuttered off in the back room. Their distress was the only thing that seemed to ease some of their mutual frustration.
Given that the staff had given up on 'checking in' on them after the first day of their suspension, Zim had seen fit to take over the space for his research. Alien objects lay strewn across the medium-sized, round table. Their numbers were growing daily. Gaz had taken to mixing them up as a means to entertain herself between game levels, just to listen to Zim curse and grumble when he accidentally grabbed the wrong thing.
"I'm going to set this blasted machine on fire," he snarled.
Though the words had been muttered to himself rather than directed at her, Gaz was growing so mind-numbingly bored that she'd started replying to his rhetoricals.
"If you do," she deadpanned, gazing vacantly towards the ceiling. "Please set me on fire too."
He snorted. "And the building with you."
"You'd set the fire alarms off," she pointed out.
He barely glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, violet-eyed contacts glistening strangely in the old, yellowed lighting. "So?"
She jerked a chin towards the ceiling. "Sprinklers."
He shivered, offering the offensive metal spigots a hateful glare. "That horrid substance," he hissed. "It is no matter. Zim's explosion will be so glorious it will set the very rain aflame."
It was Gaz's turn to huff, vaguely amused at his spiteful reaction. "Please do."
They shared a brief look that lacked their usual animosity. Gaz was reluctant to admit that—as much as he was driving her insane—she was also sort of starting to get a read on him and his moods. A week of near-solitary confinement together was doing wonders for their nonverbal communication. There was an understanding there that once hadn't been.
Its existence was only irritating them more.
Gaz rolled her shoulders, grimacing at the stiffness in her back. She didn't know how Zim dealt with this thing all the time. She'd fidgeted with trying to find a comfortable position for all of about five minutes before just straddling the chair to alleviate the pressure. She didn't know if it was a human thing, a PAK thing, or a broken PAK thing, but whatever the reason, her back was really growing to hate her.
The gesture reclaimed Zim's attention.
He was loath to admit it, but all this time spent with the filthy dirt-child was making him feel . . . strange.
His hibernation cycles had helped refocus him to the task at hand, but at times the human's skin and muscle would flex and bunch and he'd suddenly find himself lost in the memory of her violent clash with his simulator. He'd watch her neck roll backwards, revealing a long line of pale skin, and remember the way it'd bowed backwards to avoid the gnash of holographic teeth where her jugular had just been. A hand would reach out to massage the tension out of her own muscles, and Zim would recall watching that same hand press Irken weaponry directly against the forehead of a Blorchian and watch its brains blow out in a spectacular spray, along with the aligned row of rat creatures behind it. Riveting. Fascinating.
Disgusting, he corrected himself firmly, renewing his efforts towards his latest attempt at an EMP strong enough to disable even a PAK. The human girl was a disgusting, obnoxious creature with a violent streak that aligned perfectly with her equally hellish personality. A little she-demon hardly worthy of Zim's time. The only thing binding them together was the presence of the mighty Irken technology currently embedded in her spine, and he was determined to sever that connection as soon as possible.
Only 'sooner' kept looking more and more like 'later.' His progress was just as maddening as his straying thoughts, and he was only too happy to assign the full share of the blame towards the wretched female.
She was so peculiar, it was impossible not to notice all the ways she deferred from her peers. Their interactions during school outside of the horrid library were brief, by design. Zim would feign the loud laughter of true companions and overzealous greetings in front of her glowering brother, and endure the aggravated punch from the troublesome female that would follow the moment he was out of sight.
Whatever the human female had said to her sibling had allowed him to become marginally calmer. Or what passed as 'calm' for him, anyways. Somehow, someway, the universe had rearranged itself to where the Dib-monkey was the least of his troubles. It was a chilling thought, one that only spurned Zim to work harder on his current idea.
The human yawned loudly, her socked feet rising to rest on the table. Zim pointedly ignored her, even more so when the human's skirt began to sag towards her hips as she dozed. He checked his PAK's internal clock and confirmed it was around the time she usually settled into a nap for the day, and immediately became irritated that he knew that.
She sagged further into her chair, only dragging that infernal fabric up further. Her leggings clung to her leg like a second skin—and what ugly, awful skin it was. So pale and unnatural, sickly even. He loathed her clothes just as much as he loathed the creature wearing them.
A headache bloomed in between his eyes. Aggravated, he finally set his tools aside, trying to blink the scratchiness of his contacts away. When it didn't work, he growled under his breath and rose to his feet. He stuck his head out into the library, checking for any unwelcome presences. There were none; the only living creature was the librarian, who seemed to have decided to combine her morning nap with her afternoon one. Zim grimaced at the sight of her abhorrent drool before popping his head back into their secluded punishment room.
Apparently, his commotion had disturbed the female. One of her eyes was open, peering at him with her eerie, emotionless facade.
Ignoring her, Zim shut the door to their room—an act strictly forbidden by the faculty regarding the parameters of their detention—and popped his contacts out. He blinked rapidly, squeezing his eyes and discarding the contacts on the table altogether. Zim grumbled unhappily as the discomfort lingered, propping his hip on the table as he rubbed his knuckles into his eyes. He loathed his disguise nearly as much as he loathed the humans who made it a necessity.
Gaz watched wordlessly, happy to fade into the background of Zim's latest spectacle. She was still surprised at how easily he was willing to shed his disguise in front of her. Pre-PAK, his efforts to conceal himself in front of her—while pointless—had seemed completely compulsive. Apparently, all it took was a measly week for him to forego even the bare minimum formality.
Gaz, on the other hand, still found herself wary at the sight of his wide, blood-red eyes and wiggly antennae. Whether it was her own personal bias, or some deeper human instinct that shied away at the sight of a predator, she didn't know. Though his disguise was flimsy, it was something she'd grown accustomed to. When he took it off, all she could think of was the now-familiar sight of him in his labs. He always looked eerily competent when he was in his element. It unnerved her. Zim was a little moron, and yet he was looking more and more like the threat her brother shrieked about the longer she hung around him. She could've done without the dual ideas of Zim, the idiot, and Zim, the soldier, constantly battling in her mind's eye. It was just another unnecessary complication in the sea of complications that seemed to follow Zim's every move.
He sighed in obvious relief, opening his eyes to find himself in a staring match that had started without him.
His eyes narrowed, "What?"
Unlike most humans, the little female refused to shy away, regardless of the fact she'd been caught. "Your eyes," she replied. "They're creepy."
He flashed a smug grin her way, "It's only natural for you to be intimidated, little human."
She snorted, her eyes fluttering shut. "Between the two of us, who refuses to nap in front of the other?"
Zim grimaced. He hadn't thought the female had noticed, but she was just as observant as her sibling, only less obvious. More dangerous. His distrust for her grew daily. She was far too mysterious.
His retort was interrupted by the insisten vibration of the female's communicator. She fumbled in her bag for it, her brow rising at the sight of the caller.
"Is it the Dib?" Zim demanded, glaring just as hard as he would've if the large-headed human were present.
"No," she replied, with an eye roll. "It's my dad."
She answered it, too lazy to hold it up to her ear. Instead, she placed it on speaker, balancing the phone on her chest as she reclined.
"Hey Dad," she greeted.
"Daughter!" The voice of her father boomed over the call. "Good news! My research here is nearing its end, and we expect to be finished within the next week or so!"
Gaz couldn't help it. She sat up, scooping her phone as she went, her full attention fixated on her father's contact image. ". . . Really?"
"Yes!" Her father affirmed. "And to celebrate my amazing accomplishment, your brother and I will be joining me for the ceremony!"
Gaz paled.
Uncharacteristically wide-eyed, she shot Zim a brief, panicking look. He picked up on her energy fairly quickly, his own face morphing into something nervous.
". . . In Sydney?" She asked warily.
"Of course!" He shouted. "Your brother and you should begin packing at once! A car will come to take you to the airport on Sunday evening, so you can join me during your winter break!"
"Dad," Gaz cut in quickly. "Can I call you back? I, uh, I'm in the middle of a project."
"Hmm, I suppose I can schedule you in for tomorrow afternoon. But you must be on time, daughter! Science waits for no one!"
"Right, got it, science," she said hastily, palm hovering over the 'end transmission' button. "Talk to you then, Dad."
"Goodbye, daughter!"
She cut the transmission, taking a slow, aggravated exhale.
"Computer," Zim barked. "How far is this 'Sydney' from the base?"
"Roughly ten hours in the Voot," it replied, emanating from the tablet Zim had discarded on the table.
"TEN?!" Zim shrieked.
"It's on the other side of the world," Gaz added, running her fingers through her hair. She wasn't one for anxious gestures, but come on. Could she just get one break? "Shit!"
While Zim only vaguely understood the vulgarity, he certainly felt a similar sentiment. The human girl couldn't be 10 hours of travel away from his base, and it would be impossible to set up a functioning teleporter; at such a distance, it would be a gamble on whether the human arrived, or was simply dumped somewhere along the way.
"You cannot go," Zim insisted. "You must tell your parental-unit that—."
"That what?" She demanded, rounding on him. "'Sorry Dad, can't go, there's a parasitic metal backpack fused to my spine and my brother's psycho arch-nemesis alien needs me to stay here so he can keep trying to take it off?'"
Zim scowled at her. The human had such a talent for making the obvious seem so aggravating! Irk, even her wretched brother wasn't nearly this talented at pushing his buttons.
"Tell him whatever you want, human," Zim snapped, antennae pulled flat against his head. "But you cannot go."
"My dad isn't just going to let me stay home alone for a week," she hissed, though she seemed to be talking more to herself than him. "He doesn't let me do anything without Dib watching us."
Zim growled. Frustrated, he began to pace the length of the room, hands balled behind his back. This could not be! Why did the Membrane family always come with so many complications?! Could nothing be simple with these wretched adolescents?
"Then we must keep Dib here," Zim began, turning to face the human. "Zim will ensure we are all in detention! Yes!"
Gaz snorted, "If Dib's in here with us, you can't work on the PAK, genius."
This wretched little—!
"Arrested, then," he retorted.
"If Dib gets arrested, my dad will just come home to get me himself," she replied.
Zim waited for the follow-up sentence regarding her disapproval of having her brother arrested—or questions on how he planned to do that. When none followed, he warily moved on.
"Supervision is the issue, yes?" He began.
An idea was bubbling inside Zim's ingenious brain. He perked, rubbing at his chin. One eye narrowed, both darting towards where the human girl was losing herself to her own frustration.
"Zim has parents," he continued slowly.
Equally slowly, Gaz's head rotated towards him.
This was a stupid plan.
"This is a stupid plan," she said.
"It is a glorious plan," Zim replied, hands clutching the air to emphasize his words. "As all my plans are, human. You're simply too dull to appreciate them."
Gaz's brow rose, side-eying him. "Coming from you, 'dull' is almost a compliment."
Zim darted in front of her, holding one finger aloft. "You dare steal a compliment from Zim?!"
Growling, Gaz slapped his hand away, "What did I tell you about putting your fingers in my face?"
Zim stuck his tongue out, wiggling the snake-like, segmented appendage her way. Gaz's hands fisted at her side with the urge to rip the stupid thing out of his mouth completely.
"I take orders from no one, human," he sneered.
Gaz scoffed, shoving past him. "Right. Don't you have some stupid leaders to moon over?"
Blissful silence followed her retort.
. . . Suspicious silence.
She glanced leftwards, towards the alien meandering by her side.
She didn't care. She didn't. Zim was moodier than any of her pubescent classmates, and ten times as annoying. He went from raving lunatic to pouting sourpuss between one blink and the next. So it was not even remotely out of character that he looked so completely consumed in rage and bitterness at the moment at such an uninspired comeback.
And because she didn't care, Gaz kept her lips pressed in a thin line and didn't remark. His little fit with Mr. Cult hadn't spurned some disgustingly sentimental heart-to-heart, and neither would this.
Silently, both approached the house. Gaz winced at the sight of her brother's car parked firmly in the driveway, almost as a gatekeeper to their property line. She'd been hoping against hope that her brother would be off tracking down the latest paranormal platypus or whatever, but alas, she never had any luck.
She motioned for Zim to stand off to the side, which he did, eyes wide and wary. He could hardly be blamed. The Membrane household had never welcomed him—for obvious reasons—and was in fact frequently boobytrapped against his presence. He watched the sneaky, purple-haired female peek into her home cautiously. He waited, fingers twitching where they pressed against the exterior wall.
"Come on," she murmured gruffly, slipping in. Reluctantly, swallowing the bile in his mouth at entering the premises, Zim followed.
At once his eyes darted about the living room, searching for her heinous sibling. He was neither in the kitchen or the living room; upstairs then, likely.
The female opened one of the many doors in her home, revealing a series of assorted floating monitors. She pulled one out, casting one final glance upstairs and hitting the green call option on the monitor.
Zim stood off to the side, as he'd been instructed to do. It was against every instinct he had to cooperate with a human, but he had no choice. He and the human were bound, for the time being. There would be time for pettiness later, if all went well. Which it would, because this was his plan. The human girl had just reminded him of it when she said it first.
A sour faced man who was definitely not the human he'd been expecting to see appeared. Zim frowned. Had the girl contacted the wrong human?
"Name?" The nasally stranger demanded.
Her brow rose. "Really, Charlie? We're doing this?"
The man flushed red, mouth tightening. "Name."
"Gaz. Membrane," she said, with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.
"Membrane, Gaz," the snooty man huffed, peering at his clipboard. He scowled further, "Yes, it looks like you do have an appointment. But make it quick! The Professor has a meeting in thirty minutes, and he can't be distracted—!"
"Yeah, mhm, thanks, Charlie, byeee," she stressed flatly, wiggling her fingers his way.
"It's Charles—!"
The call cut off the man's shrieking complaints, putting them on standby.
Zim gave her a look.
"What?" She demanded.
Zim looked away wordlessly. He resisted the compulsive pull of his mouth at the human's snickering, schooling his features. It wasn't funny. The female was needlessly antagonizing other humans and stirring up more trouble than necessary.
. . . But the mud-man's voice had reached a rather funny pitch. He'd been so shrill.
"Daughter! Good to see you!
"Hey Dad," Gaz said, her amused smirk shifting quickly into something more reserved. The sincerity of it made Zim's eyes widen. Though the pull of her lips was fractional, the fondness in her eyes was unmistakable. It gave him the creeps.
"What was it you needed to discuss with me?"
Upstairs, Dib heard voices drifting his way.
Dib had begun packing after school, receiving a similar transmission from his father's assistant.
It was, of course, worrying him that his sister had been so absent lately. She'd spent every day for nearly a week with his arch-nemesis, and it was suddenly 100x more difficult to keep an eye on the usually boisterous little nuisance.
It wasn't that Zim was acting different, exactly. He was just as loud as ever, just as antagonistic, and certainly just as annoying. But something was off. Dib couldn't put his finger on what specifically was bothering him—aside from the fact the school was mandating he be around his little sister from dawn to dusk daily—but it was bothering the hell out of him. His father's abrupt announcement that they'd be joining him abroad had come as a relief to Dib. Usually, the disruption to his life got on his nerves, especially since Membrane never bothered to actually ask if they wanted to go, but this time it was a welcome balm to his fraying mental stability. Gaz had continued to insist that it was nothing, that Zim's cooperation with her was a mutual agreement to get the administrative staff off their back. They spent the entire time in the library ignoring each other, napping, and pretending to do homework whenever someone walked by. It was painfully obvious that Zim only acted buddy-buddy when Dib was around to irritate him.
But still. Dib's instincts were usually right, and they were screaming for him to stop and pay attention here. Well, they'd have plenty of time on the private flight to their father's latest research lab. Maybe he could figure out a way to get it out of her then, or at least settle the itching anxiety in his chest.
He cracked his door open, interest peaked as he heard his father's low baritone echo up towards him. Had his dad come to pick them up himself? What was he doing home?
". . . very unexpected request."
"I know, dad, but it's kind of important."
Dib's brows furrowed, opening the door wider to let him pass through it. Gaz was on a call with their dad? Was this about Sydney?
His blood went cold in his veins at the voice that followed.
"Indeed," Zim's voice echoed up the stairs. "You see—."
Dib was darting down the hallway before he'd mentally registered the urge to do so. His body was so used to chasing after Zim it was second nature. His footsteps were silent, the only sound the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. Zim?! At his house?!
What the hell was going on?!
"No no no no no no NO!"
All eyes in the room—and one monitor—swung towards his figure at the top of the staircase.
It was true. His ears hadn't betrayed him. Zim's eyes narrowed into slits at the sight of his nemesis, standing much too close to his sister for his liking. They were talking to Membrane. Together.
He pointed a finger at the green menace, his tone dripping with accusation. "What are you doing here?!"
"Son!" His father admonished within the monitor. "Inside volume!"
"This isn't the time for inside voices, Dad! There's a freaky alien in my house trying to dissect my sister, or something!"
"Zim is perfectly normal with perfectly normal intentions for friendship and camaraderie between the horrid child and myself!"
"You've never had a friend in your life, Zim!"
"LIES!" He shrieked. "The Keef boy was Zim's friend!"
"You BLEW HIM UP!"
"AND YOU HELPED! You are just as guilty as I for his detonation!"
Membrane seemed to be watching the display with a great deal of confusion. "Daughter," he said. "The little green boy is now your friend instead of your brother's?"
"Er, yeah Dad," she agreed, speaking quietly. With any luck, the two idiots would run off screaming together, leaving her and her father to sort out the details like actual adults. "We're just hanging out. It's no big deal."
"It is TOO a big deal!" Dib suddenly shrieked, whipping around. "What gives, Gaz?! You said this was all about the administrator's orders, and now you're trying to spend the night at his house?"
"Administrator?" Membrane piped in, brows furrowing disapprovingly. "Children, you're not in trouble again, are you? Son, did you blow up another car?"
"It is Zim who is in trouble!"
All eyes swung towards the green 'adolescent,' who shoved Dib aside to take the spot beside Gaz. He donned his best pathetic face, looking dejectedly from beneath his eyelids.
"It's my fault, sir," he began, forlorn. It took everything in Gaz not to facepalm, or roll her eyes at his dramatics. God, he should've been in theater club. "Your filthy—ahem, perfectly normal, adequate daughter was merely a victim of circumstance. The administrative staff are especially wary of Zim, you see, what with your insane son's fixation on the amazing creature that is me. Your daughter's valiant attempts to ease some of her horrible, wretched brother's punishment were misconstrued as further incitement. So you see, it is all the Dib's fault."
"ME?!" Dib shrieked, scrambling to his feet.
Membrane sighed, rubbing his head. "Oh, my poor, insane son."
"But Dad, I—!"
"Daughter," her father interrupted. "Is this true? Have you been in trouble with the school?"
She nodded, doing her best not to waver under her father's digital scrutiny. "Zim and I have been assigned to work together on a sort of . . . rehabilitation project. We're required to meet and check in daily, even over break."
A part of Gaz did feel bad for so blatantly lying to her father. While it was true the two of them were being punished in tandem, she couldn't completely stifle the gnawing guilt that accompanied withholding information from her father. Her dad would want to know if his children were in danger (especially Gaz, since she was clearly the favorite).
This was for his own good, she reminded herself. While Membrane would certainly want to know if Gaz needed help, he'd probably be more upset to find her corpse.
"Ah, I see," Membrane hummed. "Well, that does put a wrench in our travel plans. Perhaps I should call the school and—."
"No, Dad, really," she cut in, doing her best to keep from rushing. "I, er, want to do the project."
"Oh?"
"What," Dib said flatly.
No one acknowledged him, save Zim, who stuck his tongue out at the big-headed boy outside of the viewing area of the screen. Dib seethed, returning the gesture. Gaz completely ignored them both.
"Yeah," she said. "I think finishing this without your intervention will make the school warm up to me a bit more. It could lend some positive weight to my academic reputation."
"Ohhh," her father hummed. "Well, that is something to consider. How admirable of you to think of your education, daughter! Were your brother only so far-sighted!"
"I'm still here, Dad," Dib deadpanned.
"I love you both equally!"
Zim's left eye narrowed, flicking between the two children. He didn't know why. Clearly, the younger was the superior model of smeet. Humans were so weak in their distribution of affection; clearly all the doting should be on the more viable generational candidate. The Dib-monkey was weighed down by his stupidity and his ugly hippo-head. His daughter, on the other hand, was a far more talented liar and warrior. The Professor's favor should rightfully be hers. Tch. Filthy, stinking humans. So illogical.
"Well, still," her father continued. "Your future aside, Gaz, you're only sixteen. I'd be remiss in leaving you alone for so long without supervision of some sort."
"That's the thing, Dad," Gaz began. This was it. She couldn't repress meeting Zim's eyes, his own expression equal parts grave and nervous. A soldier readying himself for battle. She turned her full attention back towards her father. "Zim and I were sort of thinking I could stay at his place until you get back."
A long silence followed.
"You," Dib said suddenly, circling around the pair. "You little creep! What do you want with my sister, Zim?! Are you going to dissect her?! Steal her organs!?"
"If I wanted to dissect your sibling, Dib-human, I'd have done so ages ago," Zim sneered. "You, on the other hand, are still a viable candidate. Perhaps we will discover what makes that head so—!"
Gaz's elbow in his ribs knocked the wind out of him. He doubled over, shooting her a venomous glare in time to see her shove her brother off his feet once more, sending him flying into the wall with a well-placed shove to his chest.
"It's just a slumber party," she said through her teeth, giving Zim a pointed look.
The alien seemed to hesitate a moment, stewing in his irritation at her abuse, before he seemed to catch on, perking, "Er, yes! Yes, a glorious party in celebration of slumber!"
"Oh! A slumber party, how lovely," Membrane hummed. "Who else is going?"
"Eh . . . my uh . . . my dog! Mhm! He's invited!"
From the distance, Gaz could've sworn she heard something scream with joy. She must've been imagining it.
"But no other children?"
"Er . . . no?"
Gaz could've strangled him. Her hand went to her forehead, dragging it down her face as she only just managed to keep her rage in check. "His parents will be there, dad. We're just going to do this project. Maybe play video games and watch some movies in between. Nothing weird is going on."
"He's an alien!" Dib shrieked. "Of course there's something weird going on! He's weird!"
Gaz scoffed. "Oh he's weird?"
"YES, and—! Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm not sure about this," Membrane said, seeming to be as willfully oblivious to his son's ravings as ever. "You seem awfully young to be spending the night at a boy's house, daughter."
"We're just friends, Dad," Gaz snapped, fighting down a traitorous blush at the implication.
"Hmm. Well, you said his parents will be there, correct?"
"Yes!" Zim said, latching onto the moment, sidestepping Dib completely. "Yes, of course, my parent-drones will be present at all times!"
"Lovely people," Membrane said. "Why, I remember their attendance at your parent teacher conference. Very personable!"
"Dad!" Dib shrieked, gripping the floating video screen. "They were robots!"
"Now son," his father chided. "Following social queues is important! You could learn a thing or two about the rhythm of normal conversation!"
"What?!"
"Now daughter," her father continued, the head pulling itself out of Dib's grip and towards his stoic daughter once more. "Are you sure about this? I'm sure I could arrange something with the school."
"It's fine, Dad," Gaz insisted. "Really. It's just a week or two. No biggie."
"If Gaz isn't going, I'm not going." Dib insisted firmly, crossing his arms. "I'm not leaving my baby sister to the hands of Zim. They can do their little project here."
"Oh . . ." her father said.
Gaz winced. He was so visibly deflated, head tilting towards the floor. Her eyes darted towards her brother, who also seemed to have noticed their dad's radiating disappointment.
They always went to Dad's events. Always. At least one of them was always present and accounted for to continue to support their father in his pursuit of glorious, world-changing scientific discovery. This latest project had sent him across the country, and while he had never been an attentive father, it'd never missed Gaz's notice that he always made a point to make them guests of honor at his unveilings.
Professor Membrane lived a complicated life and had an equally complicated relationship with his children. Gaz admittedly missed her father a lot more than Dib appeared to, but they'd never had the contentious relationship the two scythe-haired men shared. As her father continued to sag like a deflated beach ball, Gaz couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt. And frustration. Because sheesh, did he need to be so dramatic?
Her eyes slid towards Zim of their own accord. It was no wonder she was getting used to his erratic personality so quickly; she'd spent her entire life hovered over by a father who was just as flamboyant, attention-seeking, and boisterous as Zim was. The more she thought about it, the more their base similarities began to creep her out.
Back to the point, her father was looking more and more devastated as the silence ticked on. He offered no protests, but Gaz could've sworn his goggles were getting misty. By contrast, Dib looked uncomfortable, his face twisting into a sympathetic grimace, but he hadn't relaxed even marginally. He was keeping his arms firmly crossed, lips sucked into a thin line. Unwavering stupidity. There was no way he was going to back down.
"You know what Dad," she said, breaking the silence. "You're right, I'm sure I can work something out with the principal. Mr. Cult's a big fan. I'm sure it'll be fine."
She swore the temperature in the room went up from the weight of Zim's seething glare on her face. She ignored it, a plan already forming in her mind.
"Are you sure, daughter? I'd hate to be responsible for derailing your academic focus!" Her father replied, but there was so much nervous hope in his posturing that gave him away.
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Yes, Dad. I'm sure it'll be fine."
"Wonderful!" Membrane shouted, bringing himself back to full height. He even clapped, briefly. "A car will arrive tomorrow morning to take you to the airport. See you soon, children! I love you!"
"Love you too, dad," both children recited together.
"Lovely to see you as well, Zim. Say hi to your parents for me!"
Zim seemed startled to have been addressed, his mouth opening wordlessly. Before he could scramble for a reply, the call ended, the floating monitor receding into its charging slot in the house.
Dib wasted no time, whirling with an accusing finger.
"Not now, Dib," Gaz snapped, dragging Zim outside by the elbow. The other hand shoved her brother aside, once more sending him sprawling to the floor.
She shut the door beside them hard enough to rattle the windows. Her brother had enough sense to know what that meant; do not follow, on pain of mutilation.
Still, Gaz had no doubt he was already scrambling to press his ear against the door to eavesdrop. She didn't let up on her grip on Zim until they were in front of the neighbor's driveway.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Zim hissed the second she released him, rubbing at his abused arm. "We discussed this! The plan—!"
"Wouldn't have worked if Dib insisted on staying home, too," Gaz interrupted, a growl in her throat.
As Zim seethed—no doubt gearing up for more screaming—her hands flew up, slapping them over his mouth. For a second, he looked like he was going to bite her. Her eyes narrowed, all but daring him to try. She felt his mouth firming against her palm, and she tensed further, ready to knee him in the groin if he so much as twitched.
Finally, a hot huff of air on her palm signaled his temporary surrender. Trying to ignore the way his breath on her skin made the hairs on her neck stand up on end, she removed her palms.
"Shut up for a second." She demanded, though the request was redundant. At his ever further narrowing eyes, she continued quickly. "Here's what you're going to do . . ."
Dib was pacing up a storm in the living room.
He knew better than to try and follow Gaz outside, but come on; what the hell was going on?! Since when were Gaz and Zim having sleepovers?!
Why was he the only one freaking out about this?!
He knew. Of course he knew; his dad just thought he was being his 'insane son' again. He'd rather let his only daughter fall into the hands of an alien menace for weeks of unsupervised visitation with her organs just so he could keep being in denial about the blatantly clear existence of the paranormal.
That was besides the point. Gaz couldn't be under mind control, right? She had been pushing him around a lot—and violently—but it would've been more suspicious if she hadn't been shoving him.
. . . Wow, that was a lot to unpack.
No time!
Gaz was in trouble! Or she would've been, if their dad hadn't clearly guilted her out of her little 'sleepover' with his arch-nemesis. Was she just doing this to annoy him? No, that couldn't be it. If she was, she would've been a lot more smug about it. She wasn't taunting him remotely. If anything, she seemed just as irritated as ever with Zim's presence.
Was she really just starting to be concerned with her future? Dib had long ago accepted that the only escape from his long list of menacing society would be in the bowels of his father's labs, assuming he was unable to make a name for himself as a world-renowned investigator. Which was imminent. Any day now. Really. Yes, really, Dad.
Not the point!
Just because Dib had long ago been officially classified as a walking insurance hazard didn't mean his sister had inherited that same fate. Perhaps this was an effort to get on Mr. Cult's good side after contributing to his heart attack. Nothing said "inciting a grudge with a school administrator" like racking up their medical debt. But why now? Was Zim's involvement really just a coincidence?
Gaz had gotten home awfully late that night . . . but she said the whole issue had been caused by leaving detention early. So what accounted for that time gap? What had the Gaz—and Zim—been up to during those absent hours? Whatever it was, it couldn't have been good, and had clearly been the catalyst to their mutually strange behavior now. Gaz had said she'd gone on a leisurely walk, which wasn't unheard of. His sister and "alone time" were synonyms at this point.
He was missing something. He could feel it. And he wasn't going to stop until he figured it out!
. . . Or his sister killed him. Whichever came first.
Said sister stormed into the house now, ignoring him as he scrambled to manage a firm, disapproved brotherly scowl. She went straight to the stairs.
"Hey!" He shouted, when it became clear she was about to escape. "Gaz, we need to talk about this!"
"You got your way, Dib," she snapped. "I'm going. Stop whining."
Dib thundered up the stairs after her, unwilling to relent to her hostility. He was on the cusp of discovery, and he wasn't about to let it slip through his fingers now! "You can't care about some stupid school project this much!"
"I don't, which is why I'm going on the trip," she emphasized, shooting him a glare over her shoulder.
She darted into her room, and Dib cursed mentally. Gaz's room was a place he dared not venture into, even now. He couldn't let her escape into her reclusive lair!
His hand slammed on the door to prevent its closure, wincing at the wide-eyed outraged look that immediately leveled him.
"Dib," she snarled. He knew that tone. That was the tone he always heard before he lost feeling in a limb for a week.
"This is insane," Dib insisted. "Why do you want to go to his base, anyways?!"
"I don't care about Zim, his base, your feud, or anything else stupid that's about to come out of your mouth," she snarled. "What I care about is preventing another ding on my permanent record. You know, that thing you have at the school that has its own filing cabinet."
Dib winced. "Two, actually."
Gaz's brow rose wordlessly.
"Look, I get it, but isn't this a little extreme, Gaz? He's an alien."
"So you've mentioned," she ground out.
"You can't trust him," Dib insisted. "And if Dad made me go off on this trip alone, you wouldn't have had any back-up!"
"Need I remind you that I'm your backup," Gaz pointed out.
Dib tread carefully. "Zim doesn't care all that much about his school reputation, either. Aren't you worried he has some ulterior motive in helping you?"
"I already know what his motive is, stupid."
Dib gawked, "You do?"
"Yeah," she said, bracing her hand against her door. "Annoying you, idiot."
With that, the door slammed shut in his face. He yelped at the jarring pressure that had forced his wrist backwards, nursing it against his chest.
Was he really just overreacting? Was his own (well-deserved) bias against Zim just coloring his sister's motives with the same broad stroke? Did it matter? She was going, after all. That was sort of a win for him, right?
"Yeah," he mumbled, rubbing at his aching joint. "I guess that's a win for me . . ."
Gaz waited, leaning against her door, until she heard the soft sound of her brother retreating into his room. With an eye roll towards his pouting, she locked her own door and headed straight for her window.
She pulled the curtains aside, resisting the urge to jump at the sight of Zim already hovering in the windowsill, braced by his PAK appendages. Raising a brow wordlessly at his dramatics, she opened the window. Zim crawled in, eying her room warily. Gaz couldn't help but watch him a moment, smirking as he became fixated on her security bots. He had surprisingly good instincts. Or maybe something in his PAK let him know of the lurking danger hidden underneath their plushy exterior.
Gaz opened her closet, rummaging around until she found it.
"Here," she said, tossing the clunky metal his way.
Zim caught it, holding it aloft with a sneer. "It is heavily damaged."
"Sure is."
"And it's mouth has been sealed shut."
She raised a brow wordlessly. Did he really need an explanation for that?
Apparently not, judging by the hint of a smirk teasing at the corners of his mouth. He scanned it briefly before throwing it over his shoulder, "It will do. I will take this back to my base and—."
He froze, eyes suddenly shooting towards her.
"Come here," he demanded, shrugging her little 'gift' off his shoulder.
Gaz didn't have much time to protest before his PAK legs went limp, becoming flexible tentacles rather than stabby appendages. A pair of them latched around one forearm each, dragging her stumbling over and turning her.
"You have a temper worthy of Slorbeast," he grumbled.
The tentacles relaxed their hold when she made no move to jerk away, his scanners providing feedback. Larb's PAK hadn't activated, thank the Control Brains, but it had gotten twitchy internally. It had metaphorically peaked an eye open rather than rearing its ugly, broken little head, but it was enough for Zim's sensors to pick up on the possible danger.
Gaz huffed, turning her head to eye him over her shoulder, ". . . And this surprises you?"
It was Zim's turn to roll his eyes, the gesture more apparent since he was wearing his contacts. Although Gaz had begun to notice that there was a portion of his eyes that were deeper than the rest, and picked up more shine. His pup-equivalent was pretty obvious if she bothered to pay enough attention.
(. . . She hated that she had registered that.)
"I suppose not," he admitted, stepping away and retrieving the fallen object on the floor. "You are safe, little Gaz. For now. But you must learn to control your hideous violence."
She groaned. The easiest way to deal with Dib was to punch him. If she had to take that out of her arsenal, this whole mess was about to get a lot stupider than she'd anticipated.
Or not, she thought, eying Zim as he began to head back towards her window with his new toy.
Or old toy, depending on how you looked at it.
"Be ready, female," Zim said over his shoulder, shooting her a warning look. "You will be retrieved at dawn."
With one last mutually sour expression, he leapt right back out the window he'd come in from. Gaz shut it behind him and began dragging her suitcase from under her bed.
She took a deep breath, staring up at her ceiling. After several long breaths, she shot a glare over her shoulder.
"You couldn't just kill me, could you?" She grumbled.
Against her spine, the PAK remained mute. Unsatisfied, Gaz began packing.
Morning, the following day
Half-awake, Dib situated himself drowsily into his seat. Beside him, his sister settled in, clearly much more awake than he was. That was unsurprising. Gaz had always been an early riser, while Dib was firmly a creature of the night. Most of his research was done between the hours of 11pm and 3am, after all. It was just a necessity.
"Hey," he said through a yawn. "Can we talk?"
His sister rolled her eyes, setting her Game Slave aside. She sighed, "If you must."
Gentled by his own drowsiness, Dib reached out to affectionately grab his sister's shoulder. "Look," he said softly. "I'm just worried, okay? Zim's . . . look, obviously you're not the only one who's served detention or gotten stuck with him, whether it was just being shoved together for the school's reputation or stuck in a completely different dimension, I've been there. And I know how he can be."
Gaz turned towards him, her brows furrowed, "What are you talking about?"
"Zim is trouble," Dib said firmly, their conversation stirring him more towards wakefulness. He forced himself to sit up a bit more. "It's easy to get sucked into his bullshit."
Gaz's irises all but disappeared in her skull as she rolled her eyes. "Dib—."
"He escalates," Dib interrupted, holding up a hand to forestall her further protests. "It builds. First its detention, then its suspension, then the next thing you know, you've somehow tumbled into the middle of some hair-brained scheme that makes zero sense in hindsight. I don't want my little sister becoming a victim of hindsight, okay?"
Gaz's eyes widened fractionally. It brought some relief to Dib to see. She only ever reacted like that when he'd said something that'd actually gotten through to her; it was insulting, because it was clearly just her being surprised he'd said something 'intelligent' for once, but it was enough for Dib. For now, anyways.
She turned away, schooling her features. The plain began to whine beneath them, rumbling as it began to prepare to ascend.
"Look," she began again. "I get what you're saying, Dib. I'm being careful, okay? I just want the school to stop breathing down my neck about every move I make."
Dib nodded sympathetically, his hand falling from her shoulder. He could relate. "I get it. And yes, I also know you've got more common sense than me, as you like reminding me," he added, laughing softly at the sight of her tiny smirk. "I just want to make sure you're not in over your head."
"I'm not," she insisted, flicking him on the forehead. "Trademark Big Brother Speech heard and acknowledged. Satisfied?"
"Satisfied," he agreed, slumping back into his chair. The yawn that followed had Gaz snorting.
"Get some sleep, dork," she encouraged, turning her game back on.
He nodded, drifting off. He was out before the plane even reached full altitude.
Miles away, and further miles underground, the real Gaz sighed softly at the monitor.
Zim had successfully upgraded the robot-Dib to be a mirror image of herself. The sight of it had been immensely creepy, but Gaz had chosen to keep her existential crisis to herself. Zim had taken her bags, leaving decoys filled with assorted rubbish to weigh it down in their place.
She grimaced at the memory of the long pause that followed the departure of her things, both of them scowling at one another.
Finally, wordlessly, Zim held out his arms. Awkwardly, Gaz had seated herself on the windowsill and just sort of . . . sat there, waiting for him to figure out how he wanted to handle her weight.
With a dramatic downturn of his mouth, he'd eventually scooped her around the back. Her stomach dropped at the sensation of being entirely in Zim's control, even if it was only a couple stories above the ground. Reflexively, Gaz had held him around the neck. It'd only taken a few seconds for him to transfer the two of them into the Voot, but it was clear the both of them were thinking along the same lines; was the touching going to have to be something they got used to as well? Gaz certainly hoped not.
But she would be staying in Zim's base for an indefinite amount of time. Their father had said it was just until winter break was over, but you never knew with him. His schedule was erratic and unpredictable as his vocal outbursts. There was no telling how long it'd be before the real Gaz could reinsert herself back into her life.
It was creepy, too, how much the robot replicated her personality. There was an override feature for emergencies, but the thing was entirely autonomous. Zim had told Gaz she could watch the feed all she liked, but there would be no need for constant monitoring. From what she'd seen so far, he wasn't wrong. For once, his invention was actually doing its job. Would wonders never cease?
"You should go into robotics as your cover when you graduate," Gaz said.
Deeper into the lab, Zim scoffed. "Zim has no intention of entering your laughable excuse for higher education."
"Why haven't you dropped out yet?" Gaz asked, curious.
"And leave your brother unsupervised?" He said, aghast.
Gaz's mouth twitched with amusement. "So if he goes to college, you're not going to follow him?"
Zim paused from his word to shoot her a flat, disbelieving expression. "I have personally seen your brother's permanent record. There is no call-edge that would accept him."
Gaz quickly stifled the laugh that escaped her. He wasn't wrong.
She swirled her soda around in the bottle, raising it briefly towards him. "A toast to your eternal rivalry. May you continue to terrorize the city's tax dollars."
Zim snorted, watching the female swig her putrid bubbly drink. "Your wretched planet should be honored to witness my glorious power."
"Didn't the mayor include you specifically on the city's annual budget?"
Zim shot her a wicked grin. "By name."
She snorted into her soda, the fizzy burn briefly burning in her nostrils. His own gleeful snickering mingled with hers, and for a moment, the tension in the room lightened.
Like the carbonation in her soda, it soon fizzled out, leaving the two of them in cavernous silence.
They eyed one another, two predators mutually sizing the other up.
Amusing as the female occasionally was, Zim trusted the girl not. The human was devious. Not as devious as him, of course, but she was clearly an expert on manipulating her own family unit. The Dib was easily manipulated, of course, but the Professor had laid waste to his entire army of robots once (although he strangely seemed to have written the whole thing off as some sort of odd hallucination). He was a formidable foe, one which Gaz would have successfully played like a fiddle, had her brother not interfered. Even still, her recovery plan had been just as suitable—if not better—than their original plan.
What was this strange creature that he had let into his base?
"Come," he said, rising to his feet. "The base should be done situating your things."
He led her back towards the elevator, shifting immediately to their usual 'sides' within. Gaz tended to favor standing farther back in the small tube, while Zim firmly remained firmly by the door. Both of them naturally gravitated as far away from the other as they could manage in the small confines of the moving room. It always made Gaz's skin crawl to be this close to him, especially when his disguise wasn't on. She realized she'd really need to get used to it now that she was stuck here until her family got back.
She was pretty sure it was the antennae that were freaking her out. They were just so . . . different. And they twitched. The closest Earth-comparison she could come up with was the antenna on ants, and Gaz wasn't a big bug fan.
Zim himself wasn't as insect-like as her brother bemoaned—especially now that she'd seen Larb, with his enormous forehead and weird, claw-like hands. Zim was positively human in comparison, although she didn't think he'd appreciate the title. He was thin, with a much flatter abdomen than a human, and the planes of his chest were much flatter. Or so they appeared under his ridiculous uniform.
Scrawny was a good description for him. Deceptively scrawny, given the amount of times he'd effortlessly supported her entire body weight without so much as a grunt. There had to be some muscle under there somewhere, but wherever it was, it was well hidden. And she wasn't about to go looking for it.
The doors slid open, Zim darting out the very second it was possible for him to do so. Gaz rolled her eyes at his dramatics and followed.
The room was small, domed, with a sporadic assortment of furniture. It had one door with a women's bathroom sign on it (oh good, it could match the front door she thought acerbically), a tv with several of the mobile monitors Zim had been using as for medical scans docked into the walls throughout the room. A few seats that looked like a mutation between a bean bag and a massage chair had been thrown around.
In the middle of it all, the couch from the living room sat, with an assortment of pillows and blankets. Her brow rose.
It seemed Zim took issue with its relocation as well. "Hey! Computer, what's the couch doing down here?"
"It's a pull out couch," the Base replied cheerfully.
"WHAT?!" Zim shrieked. "SINCE WHEN!?"
"Since always!"
Oh. Cool. She'd thought she was just going to get stuck with sleeping on a couch. Gaz slipped past, taking more of the room in. Her room. She did a slow rotation, noting the high-domed ceiling that was usual for all the rooms of Zim's base had been replaced by some sort of projection screen that only gave the illusion of massive height. Weird.
"What's with the hologram panels?" She asked, gesturing upwards with a finger.
Zim shrugged, offering no answer besides the dip in his shoulders. Gaz rolled her eyes, noting her bags were absent.
"Hey, Computer," she asked. "Where's my stuff?"
A tray slid out from under the bed, the contents of her bag neatly folded within. Neat.
"Thanks," she said gruffly, pushing the tray back in with her foot. It took the hint, receding back under the bed and out of sight once more.
She turned to face Zim again, noticing that he was still posted by the door and eying her with a severity that she was growing used to. Moody weirdo.
"You have honored our pact thus far, human," he began seriously. "And for this reason, I have allowed you into the inner confines of my base."
Gaz couldn't help the antagonizing smirk pulling at her lips, slumping carelessly onto her new couch bed. "Well I'm letting you into the inner confines of my spine. I think it's only fair."
Zim ignored her, his lip curling the only sign he'd heard her at all.
"Someone's pissy," she noted, leaning her head backwards against the cushion. "Look, I get it Zim. We're stuck together. You can stop with the dramatic warnings. It's been a long week, and I really need a nap. Do you mind?"
Zim stared at her, completely perplexed with her audacity.
"Careful, little human," he warned, snarling. "You're not indestructible. Especially not here."
"Noted," she mumbled, turning her back to him.
Frustrated, Zim seethed silently. The human girl's breath evened out quickly, and to his surprise, she was soon catching the sleep she sought. Facing away from him as she was, he got the full expanse of the PAK looking at him. Dulled. Mocking him.
Zim turned away quickly, spitting curses under his breath. This was a mistake. This whole thing was a disaster from start to present. But he had no choice.
No. That's the problem, isn't it? His inner monologue mocked. You have too many choices, don't you, little Defect?
Zim snarled, shaking himself physically as he retreated into the elevator.
It didn't matter what he was. Soon, he'd have that PAK off the wretched human girl's PAK, and a blueprint for what a fully functional PAK looked like. Once he had the schematics, this nonsense would end. None would ever again call him that horrific, wretched slur again. He could fix this.
He could fix this.
. . . He could fix him.
End
Next time on Re: MHNY. . .
A sly, arrogant sneer pulled across his face.
"What's the matter, little Gaz?" He purred, leaning a smidge closer. "Is your filthy human love-goo overwhelmed by the mere presence of Zim?"
She forced her gaze away, furiously scrubbing the blush out of her cheeks with the heels of her palms.
Nope.
No thanks, intrusive thoughts. Hard pass.
"Come here, filthy creature," he ordered, holding up the pad.
She scowled at it distrustfully. "Where's that going?"
"Wherever is most painful," he snapped.
(Completed 5.04.21)
(Posted 05.14.21)