Disclaimer: Lyrics are from Simon and Garfunkel's "The Sound of Silence." (Hey, that's the second time Garfunkel's shown up in this fic!) Other lyrics are from "Stairway to Heaven" by, who else, Led Zepplin.

Gaz decided not to tell Lark the good news until after the concert. Supposedly she thought by doing this she'd be saving both of them a night of mopiness. The cheerleader was already deep in a funk about her Romeo ditching additional make-out time in insistence that he was the one who'd been wronged in their little play drama. Why make it worse? Gaz usually loved ruining the day and raining on parades but she decided to spare Lark's feelings on account of the concert. She knew this news would depress the beauty queen. Grudgingly Gaz had to admit to herself that Lark did like her a lot and she felt weird about hurting anyone who tried to be her friend.

Lark drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and sang along to the radio. Gaz made a particular point to squeeze her small body into the furthest corner of the car closest to the window. Bleakly, she watched the nightlife fly by.

" 'There's a feeling I get when I look to the west and my spirit is crying for leaving/In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees and the voices of those who stand looking. . .' "  Lark sang with full gusto, seemingly unaware of the melancholic intent behind the lyrics nor the limits of the patience of sentient beings.

If she doesn't stop drumming her hands, I'll. . . when I think of it she won't like it. Gaz squirmed in her seat like an impatient four year old and wished to God for a pair of earmuffs. Or a sock to stick in Lark's mouth.

" ' . . . . oh oh oh, and she's buying a stairway to heaven . . .' "

Gaz tore her gaze away from the hypnotic light laced darkness. "Lark, could you put something a little less irritating on?"

Lark quit chirping. "Like what? And since when is Led Zepplin irritating?"

Since you decided to turn it into a sing-a-long, Gaz replied in her head. Out loud she said, "It's not. I'm just not in the mood." She gestured with her hand toward the car stereo. "Put something else on."

Lark shrugged, ejected the CD and stuck in another without looking. Oh nice. It could be anything.

"Hello darkness my old friend

I've come to talk with you again . . ."

Gaz shot Lark a look. "You brought your soundtrack to The Graduate?!"

Lark shrugged. "I liked the movie."

"Ew."

"Because a vision slowly creeping,

Left its seeds while I was sleeping. . ."

"Ew?" Her roommate glanced at Gaz briefly, keeping both eyes on the road. "Ew what?"

"That movie was gross."

"Gross? It's a work of period art from the 60s!" her old skool loving friend exalted. "It shows the degradation of traditional family values and a disillusionment of the younger generation!"

"And the vision that was planted in my brain

Still remains

Within the sound of silence."

Gaz snorted. "You'd think you made the movie from listening to you. Besides." She returned to staring into the passing scenery. "I'm living it. I don't need to hear about it."

"You mean your bf's sleeping with your mother and dating you at the same time?" The girl sure knew how to say stupidity and give it a name and a face.

"No. It's just . . . oh you wouldn't understand."

Lark stopped at a red light and looked at her passenger encouragingly. "Try me."

No way. Gaz shook her head. There were some things better left untalked about. "Maybe some other time." Maybe some other time, yeah right. Maybe never was more like it.

"In restless dreams I walked alone

Narrow streets of cobblestone,

'Neath the halo of a street lamp,

I turned my collar to the cold and damp

When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light

That split the night

And touched the sound of silence."

"You know," Lark said softly. "It doesn't hurt to talk about it. I mean, you already know that don't you?"

Gaz shrugged.

"C'mon, Gaz. I don't feel like I know you."

Good. Exactly what I've been trying to do all along. Nice to know something I do in this world works.

She pressed on. "Whenever I walk by your room if you're reading something you slam the book closed and if I catch you writing, you always hide it. If you're watching TV you switch channels or shut it off." Lark shook her head, her long silvery earrings dangling. "Oh yeah, and that couple of nights ago wasn't the first time I've heard you crying alone in your room."

Slowly Gaz moved her eyes and focused them on Lark. They narrowed in the darkness of the vehicle.

"And in the naked light I saw

Ten thousand people maybe more

People talking without speaking

People hearing without listening

People writing songs that voices never share

And no one dared

Disturb the sound of silence."

Meanwhile her friend kept on going. "Look, whatever it is that makes you keep to yourself the way you do, I only want to say, you don't have to keep doing that. It's okay to be yourself."

"Fools" said I, "You do not know

Silence like a cancer grows.

Hear my words that I might teach you

Take my arms that I might reach you."

But my words like silent raindrops fell

And echoed

In the wells of silence."

Lark moved her shoulders, trying to remove the dreadful unease come over her. "Please say something. I feel stupid talking to myself."

"Something."

A tiny smile spread across Gaz's face while Lark laughed and moved on to another subject: the leader of the band they were going to see. It was accompanied by many an eye flutter and a, "God, I cannot wait to see him. I'm gonna die if he looks at me!"

Gaz bit on her bottom lip. Oh I so cannot wait to get out of this car.

"And the people bowed and prayed

To the neon god they made.

And the sign flashed its warning

In the words that it was forming.

And the signs said The words of the prophets

Are written on subway walls

And tenement halls.

And whisper'd in the sounds of silence. . . ."

The CD went through a few more oldies before Gaz took charge of the musical situation. She reached into the backpack on the floor between her feet, grabbed a System of a Down CD and shoved it in. A slow sure smile stretched across her face as she listened to the opening notes of "ChopSuey" and Lark's groan of mortal agony.

Life was good.

***

"Did you know?" Lark said excitedly as they crossed the parking lot to the stadium where the concert was being held. "That this is their first world tour? They've never gone on tour before! Been around ten years and they never went on tour! How insane is that?"

Gaz held her coat together and let her eyes wander around, subconsciously taking in with a degree of amazement how many young people were there. She was shocked they'd been able to find decent parking, especially since they'd come in at the tail end of the herd.

"Atwater, what makes you think I care about that?" she replied sensibly. "So what?"

Lark made a face. "Well, I think it's pretty strange."

"Lots of bands don't tour."

"Name one."

Gaz made a sound of disbelief. "I don't have to justify myself to you."

The other girl looked taken aback by the end-all statement. "Whoa, why are you getting so mad all of a sudden?"

Gaz only glanced at her and smiled disarmingly. "Sorry. Nothing, I'm just worried we won't get good seats."

"Gaz, it's a stadium," Lark rationalized. "Every seat is a good seat!" She struck what Gaz came to fancy as an anime girl cheer pose and squealed. "Yes! We're here! I can't believe we're here!"

She's worse than my brother. Gaz rolled her eyes and pointed to the entrance where a huge line had formed. It was growing longer by the second. "We going in or what? I'm freezing my ass off out here."

Lark sobered and stepped in line beside her roommate. The girls spent a few minutes in silence. Gaz quietly surveyed her surroundings, rocking gently back and forth on the balls of her heels. Lark hopped up and down, hugging herself. The beads attached to her blue and green scarf clicked together. Suddenly she gave another squeal, this one of recognition. "Oh my God!" She waved and stepped out of line a little. "Cris! Tia!"

Two figures near the front raised their hands in greeting, screaming girlish sounds of excitement. Practically forgetting that Gaz was standing right there, Lark left the line and went to go talk to them. Gaz filled in the space left behind while the person behind her did the same. Heaving a great sigh of relief, she basked in her solitude. Yes, she thought nodding a little. I am definitely going to take that college up on the money. If I have to stand one more second of this Beverly Hills, 90210 drama, I'll surely go crazy.

Too late for that. Hehe. I'm morbid.

The line moved along quickly enough. She was relieved to be able to take off half the layers she'd put on and sit down. It was a very good seat, she thought taking out a disposable camera and winding the film. All the way near the top too. These pictures will come out good.

Lark showed up many minutes later, looking flustered and about as annoyed as a cheerleader could be. Not at Gaz but at the difficulty she had in getting to her seat. She complained about certain people and informed Gaz on where she'd been and whom she'd been talking to all this time. Finally she ended her spiel with an apology and a question about photography and whether or not film was readily on hand. Gaz held up the camera, which had been in plain sight the entire time. Lark gave an embarrassed start.

"It's okay," Gaz decided it was time to take the girl's batteries out. "Look, you're here, you're safe and we've got a camera. The band hasn't even come on stage yet and you're out of breath already. By the time HE appears, you'll be in cardiac arrest."

Lark snorted and blew out of her mouth. "Guess that goes back to the wolves, huh?" She smiled when she said it.

Gaz smiled back. "Nah." It was a good moment.

The lights dimmed, the stage lit up and the crowd started to cheer. Lark whipped out a lighter and joined the crowd. Gaz just sat there and took pictures, focusing on the good-looking bandleader. She was amazed how in person a human being could look even better than they did on the album cover. No wonder Lark was nuts for the guy. Every now and then she'd put the camera down and just watched and listen. After each set, she clapped whilst everyone around her lost it and screamed their lungs out. Animals, she thought.

"YOU SUCK!"

Startled, Gaz looked down to see what moron had decided to grace one thousand fans with his presence and why he would be stupid enough to do that. There. Third row down, seven people in. It was easy to pick him out, he was the only one still standing.

He made a fist and shook it at the band. "THAT'S NOT THE WAY IT IS! HOW THE FUCK WOULD YOU KNOW, HUH?!"

Lark sniveled at him. "What a retard." Her eyes snapped open and she squinted at him. "Oh God, Gaz."

"What?" Gaz had chosen to divert her attention elsewhere. "What's the matter?"

Lark tugged on her arm. "Look who it is."

Oh no, no, no . . . Gaz looked and immediately slouched down in her seat. A moan escaped from her lips as she covered her face with both hands to hide the red.

Lark watched two security officers wade their way in and drag the still jeering and raging man out. A few people sitting near him clapped in relief. "Seriously, what did you see in that mental case? Physically maybe a good time but you pay a hefty price for the goods."

Gaz sat up and shot her friend an incredulous stare. "We're in public, Lark."

"You don't like innuendo?" Lark grinned and stretched. "Let me ask you something, since it's intermission. A personal question."

Gaz eyed her suspicious. "All right."

"Is he your first?" Lark made gestures. "You know?" Girl sure knew how to be blunt.

Gaz fought back a flush. "No."

Lark seemed surprised. "No? Really? You're so . . . virginal."

"For the love of. . . Lark, please!" Gaz exclaimed in disgust. "First of all, oh my God and second of all, no he's not my first."

Genuinely curious and seeing an opening for unknown factoids, Lark gave her complete undivided attention. "Who?"

"I don't wanna . . ."

"Oh c'mon."

"Well. . ."

"Please?" Lark pleaded. "I promise I'll never, ever ask another question like that again."

Gaz sighed. "Zim. His name was Zim."

The other girl had the decency to lean in and invite Gaz to speak lower. It showed at least the beginnings of some sense. "How was it?"

Another sigh. "Let's just say he liked it a hell of a lot better than I did."

Lark laid off instantly and nodded, sitting back in her seat. "Don't they all?" Intermission ended on that note and thankfully for the next hour no more conversation was exchanged.

***

After the concert ended, Gaz needed to use the restroom. Lark wanted to talk to her friends whom she met outside the souvenir shop and was more than happy to let Gaz take her sweet time.

Take her sweet time she did.

Gaz entered the 'potty palace' (as she fondly remembered calling it in her childhood years) and halted. Regular toilets and urinals on the wall. A sign on the wall said: TWO TOGETHER IS BETTER THAN TWO APART.

"That is disgusting." Gaz muttered, walking over to the sink (which barely qualified in terms of sanitation purposes). Out the corner of her eye, she spotted a lanky trench coat clad young man with spiked hair lying against the wall, a bottle sitting next to him, the tell-tale sign of his present condition. She walked over to him, took note of his presence with hands on her hips and then entered a stall on the far end. While sitting there, she endured his echoing, drunken mutterings bouncing off the walls. When she was finished, she walked over to the sink and washed her hands. Then she went over the hand drier on the wall he was leaning against and let the hot air blow her hands dry. She put her coat back on and turned to leave.

"Gaz . . ." the figure spoke.

She dropped her head, shook it and then turned around. "What, Johnny?"

He opened his eyes and tried to focus on her. He kind of thought about it and shook his head. "Never mind." He flopped a hand dismissively.

She started out the door and stopped. Dammit. Her conscience was pulling on her. No, she told herself firmly. No, no, NO! Don't ever think twice around HIM. There are no options when it comes to him so don't even think about it!

Yeah. Gaz felt better walking to the door. I'm doing the right thing.

"GET BACK HERE!!"

Gaz halted again and whipped around fiercely. "What?" she delivered it like a threat.

Johnny struggled to sit up. "I need help."

"You got that right."

Plaintively, he peered at her. Only when he was drunk did Johnny show any weakness that was far cry from his sober cold-hearted self. "I can't walk. My car's too fer away." Johnny childhood home was Savannah, Georgia so once in a while a trace of an accent filtered out.

Gaz came over and knelt beside him, searching his pockets until she found a pair of car keys. All the while, he was giving her this dumb happy look. "Yer pretty, whut's yer name?"

Oh please. Gaz shook her head. "Johnny, lay off the liquor willya? It's Gaz, you dummy. You just said my name a few minutes ago."

"What the fuck are you talkin' about?" he muttered watching her dully as she put his keys in her own coat pocket. "You can't be Gaz cos Gaz's pretty and yer pretty too and no un' prettier than her so's. . ."

"So's you better shut up before I give you something to cuss about." Gaz was in no mood for this. "Here, put your arm around me and lean." They stood up. Since Johnny was taller than she was, Gaz had to hunker down a bit to accommodate his weight. She felt ill when she smelled the alcohol on him. "I swear Johnny. I ought to just leave you here to rot." Gaz used her free elbow to push open the bathroom door. "You're just not worth it for a caring person."

"You care . . ."

"No, Johnny, I don't."

"Then why you helping me?" his voice became clearer now. "I don't mean shit to you. I don't mean it to nobody, I never ever did . . . I never meant nothing to you."

"Oh Johnny . . ." Gaz sighed scanning the parking lot for Johnny's distinctive green Buick. These were the keys to it so she figured that's the car he'd taken to get here. "You're going overboard. People care about you. What about your parents?"

"My parents don't care 'bout me."

"They might. Did you ever ask them?" It was easy talking to a drunk Johnny. Just pretend he was a child and you were good to go.

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"'Cos I don't know who my parents are."

Oh. She felt that one keenly enough. Johnny was like her in the personal information department. All the while she'd been dating him, she never knew about his family. Never knew much at all about him really except he was crazy and an ex-convict on parole.

"Sorry."

"Doesn't matter." He kind of craned his neck to look at her. "How come you don't love me anymore?"

Gaz didn't take the question seriously. She focused on finding the car instead. "We're not right for each other and I told you, you scare me."

"I didn't wanna scare you," he slurred. "I love you."

This was going nowhere fast. Gaz sighed again and found the car. She ducked out from under his arm and leaned him against the vehicle while she pulled out the keys and unlocked the door. "Johnny, don't say things you don't mean."

"But it's the truth," he skipped from one word to the other. "So how come you don't love me?"

Gaz opened the passenger side and pushed him in. No way was she letting him drive, not like this. "We'll talk about it when you're sober, okay? Stay there and don't move. I have to tell Lark I'm driving you home."

"'Kay." Then abruptly he passed out. Yeah, he was gonna stay put.

She found her still talking to her social clones Cris and Tia. Taking Lark off to the side, she explained the situation, trying to sound as embarrassed as possible. Lark nodded the whole time, eyeing her knowingly in a 'Yeah, I still think you got it bad for him' kind of way. Gaz chose to ignore it.

"I'll be needing someone to pick me up though," Gaz finished up. "His apartment's not exactly five blocks away." It was three miles across town.

Lark patted her on the arm. "I'll do it. And, ah, if you feel like spending the night I won't hold it against you." She winked.

Does she have it on the brain or something? Gaz wondered. Sheesh. She clenched her teeth together. "I'm only making sure Johnny doesn't break anymore laws tonight. Especially by driving under the influence." She trailed off. Her mind was going back in time. It took a touch from Lark to bring her back again.

"Hey, you okay?"

"I'm fine." Distracted, Gaz started back to the Buick. "I'll call you when I get there." She hurried, not wanting to wait around another second for Lark to ask her those annoying questions. Didn't want to wait around and have someone listen to her. Didn't want to open an old scar. Didn't want to look back.

***

If Zim thought the outside of the Massive looked bad, when he saw what the inside looked like, he quickly changed his mind. Sections were blocked off, alarms were still going, Irkens still ran around in a steadily diffusing panic. Zim ignored the dead bodies, both the ones being carried away and the ones still waiting for disposal. It would seem to anyone watching him march that he shunned the dead walking by them but it was actually the complete opposite. He envied them their ability to escape the calamity and the horror of their fear. Nothing hurt anymore and there wasn't anything to be scared of anymore. Why the living didn't envy the dead more was still a basic mystery to Zim who left Gir behind to guard the ship while he wandered the Massive's depths.

Why am I in here? He thought going through corridors and rooms, taking in the damage

and watching his peers attend to their duties both in the crisis and after. I did what I needed to do, what my heart told me to do and then to top it off I actually come inside and make myself look at everything. Is my appetite for destruction so indiscriminate now it can't tell the difference between enemy carnage and my own? Of course nothing of what he saw made him glad Irk had its might challenged. Not anymore. The worst he saw were some of the injured lying in rooms, still yet to be attended and or found.

Passing a war room (the kind filled with coordination maps and battle plans) he saw a small Irken crawling across the threshold on his stomach. He was coughing up blood and spitting it nonchalantly out the corner of his mouth. Zim froze and stared at him. Impulse told him one thing and a deep curdled something else told him to do another. Impulse won out, as was natural, and he came to the injured Irken's side.

"Don't move," he told the small creature who quit his mortal torture of a drag. Coming closer, he noticed a long wet green trail of blood following him. Zim knelt at his side and gently made him turn over somewhat so he could see how bad it was. He almost vomited.

The poor thing's innards were extensively damaged. Some were even hanging out and dripping. A wave of nausea washed over Zim and he fought to remain detached from what he was looking at. Resting the poor guy's head in his lap, he gazed into the creature's unique dark green eyes. They kept fluttering open and then half-closed. He coughed again and tried to spit but couldn't. Slowly, he moved his tiny hand toward his stomach, reading something in Zim's face. Catching the movement, Zim seized his claw and held it, shaking his head. Try as hard as he did, he couldn't keep the sadness in his eyes from the young Irken's notice. He knew the truth.

The Irken sighed heavily and pointed to his head at a certain spot. In Irken culture, its meaning was clear. He was asking Zim to kill him.

Shocked by his request, Zim fought to keep calm. Shakily he stood over his fellow Irken and touched his pak. It opened and he reached into it and pulled out a long snub nosed object. He leveled it at the officer's head and took careful aim. Without hesitating he pulled the trigger.

After it happened, Zim immediately turned around and slammed his fist against the wall. He shut his eyes and did it again and again, leaning his head against his arm.

I'm leaving. I am not going to stay here and do this to every Irken beyond help. I can't. I just can't.

He recovered the best he could and compelled himself to look in the room the other had come from and found no one. The place was damaged almost to the point of no repair. But he knew with the kind of technology they had, this would all be back in order in no time. The whole ship would go back in consecution within twenty-four hours with the dead disposed of, the living back to work and everyone none the wiser from the nightmare that just happened.

Moving on, Zim set his resolve on high and made his way back to his ship. Leaving. He was going to leave this place behind, go back to Earth and never think of Irk and its inhabitants again. He no longer thought the way they did. He could never think the way they did, able to clean up a mess thoroughly and shrug it off like a bad dream. The humans didn't do it on September 11, 2001 and neither would he.

I'm not even an Irken anymore, he realized it in awe. Everything I was programmed with, everything I was brainwashed into believing is . . . it's gone. I've broken away. Completely. Cleanly. The strangest part about it was, he found he liked it. It gave him a sense of intoxication, this newfound existence.

Entering a large, hangar sized room, he was surprised to find it filled with hundreds of injured Irkens. Machines and medics were going from patient to patient, doing their best at administering care. It took time to see to each injury so many Irkens were left unattended, some moaning in pain while others lay in their beds staring all around them.

Feeling oddly disconnected from all that was going on around him, Zim walked through the makeshift hospital room (which its presence dictated the normal medical wards were already filled up). He tried to keep from wincing and looking away from the expressions of anguish many wore and the wounds they sustained. Over and over he kept seeing the face of a young boy in every injured Irken's eyes. In his memory the words "It doesn't hurt, Zim" echoed in his ears.

Finally, he went off to the side and shut his eyes, covered his ears. Blocking out the voices of the sick and dying, shutting out the memories they were resurrecting within him.

"What's YOUR problem?" asked a female voice wrought with arrogance and a faint tinge of an accent. "Irkens suffering from brain injuries are on the other side of the room. Best luck to you to get them to pay you any mind though."

Zim looked toward the bed nearest him. A tallish female Irken with dark purple eyes reclined with her foot propped up on a red pillow with the symbol of the Irken Empire on it. Her antenna was long and curly and she had what humans would have called a beauty mark under one eye. She looked extremely pissed off, with her arms crossed over her chest and both eyes narrowed.

She kept talking. "I have been here for over three hours and no one has come to see me about my foot!" Raising her arms in frustration, she yelled, "A LITTLE HELP SOMETIME TODAY WOULD BE NICE!" Glaring at him. "I suppose YOU are of no help to me."

"Wh-What makes you say that?" He felt very cowed in her presence. Females always managed to have that affect on him. He wished he knew why.

She smiled in a misleading way. "I have watched you wander through here and stare at everyone as if they were clowns in a freak show. Surely your bewilderment should have clued me in first but I was probably giving you too much credit."

Zim bristled. "I was NOT looking at them like they were clown things in a freak show. I was merely horrified at how many people were hurt, that's all."

She crossed her arms again and became very acrimonious. Not that she hadn't started out way to begin with. "Well, while you are here, perhaps we can have a decent conversation. I have grown tired of listening to myself scream."

"Me too."

She gave him a wonderfully hateful look.

Zim laughed.

Suddenly her eyes popped wide open in surprise when he did that. "Oh no, tell me it is not what I think it is."

He quit laughing. "Think what?"

She sat up a bit more and squinted hard at him. "I think I have met you before." She opened one eye up. "Yes, I think I recognize you. You are someone I hate, I think."

Zim laughed again. She was very amusing, this one. And very familiar, he couldn't quite place her. Her name was at the tip of his tongue. Thanks to the shellshock of the past few hours, regular memories were sort of hard to get a hold of. "Someone you hate? I take it there's no one you like?"

She nodded her head. "Hmm. Yes." A sudden mixture of real shock tinged with the barest hint of delight took hold. She pointed at him. "Zim! You're Zim!"

Zim imitated her haughty composure and feigned indifference. "So what?" Then her name popped up in his head and he added, "I want my robot bee back, Tak."

Tak gave a hilarious start and dug her claws into her bed. "I don't have your . . . Do not throw me off track!" She glared at her old enemy. "So you are alive."

He was stiff. "So I am."

Tak indicated generally all around. "And back here I see."

"As are you." Zim grinned. "Still seeking revenge?"

Tak shifted her foot, trying to make herself comfortable. A second of pain flickered across her face and she cringed. "Not presently. I thought you were dead so naturally what cause would I have to pursue you? To chase a dead person is not in my job description."

"Well, Earth would have been free."

Tak shook her head. "It is as I told you. I am a better invader than you could ever be. Why waste my time on such a filthy ball of doom, as you so eloquently like to put it? No. I have far better aims."

"Like what?" Zim asked, pretending not to care when he really did. "One planet is as good as another."

"That's what YOU think." Tak smiled. "Had I my strength I would . . ."

"Kick my ass, yes, yes." Zim waved it off. "Your temper amuses me but I have better things to do."

It set her off, just like he predicted. "YOU FOOL! Think you I still don't remember what you did to me over eighty years ago?! Well, I do! I missed my shot at becoming an Invader because of YOU!" She made a fist and shook it at him. "You WILL pay for that, Zim! Once my foot gets better, I will finish what I started!"

"Too late." Zim sat down uninvited at the foot of her bed. It amazed him how linear some people really were in their lives. "You've no idea what I've been through and believe me, it's punished me in more ways than you could ever dream of." He looked at her and smiled gently. "You never got any of my messages did you?"

Taken aback by his demeanor, Tak became confused. "Messages? What . . . Oh, you mean those pathetic pleas? Yes, I got them."

"How come you didn't answer then?"

Tak glared at him. "Why do you think?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not you."

Tak frowned, put off by the attitude of the formerly mad and ignorant creature of insanity. In the back of her mind, she was wondering what could have changed this Irken so radically he would sit like that and wear such a completely lifeless expression. Not much could do that to an Irken. Personalities within the Irken race were usually rock solid and any dramatic changes were rare and far between.

Zim sensed her confusion and patted her good leg. "It's good to see you again, Tak."

Her mouth fell open. This came to her completely unexpected.

He stood up and finally told her what he'd been dying to tell her for years. "I'm sorry for what I did to you and I'm sorrier for your misery. I wish I could make it up to you somehow but I don't think anything I could do could be enough." He lowered his head a little. "Good-bye." He moved to go.

Tak reached out to him. "Wait! Zim!"

He waited.

Tak scooted to the edge of the bed, got down on one foot and used the end of it to balance. Her other hand went and grabbed his arm. There was no hostility in her face, no hate, no fixated angst. "Do you mean that?"

"Mean what?"

"All those things you said. Are you really sorry?"

He nodded. "I am."

Tak went silent, just staring at him. It was a kind of awe he saw in her face, as if she had discovered a rare jewel and her eyes had fallen upon it for the first time. "You're not lying." Then suddenly she tightened her grip on his arm. There was a look in her eyes only Zim was able to interpret; the same desperation he'd seen in another female being. In that he realized Tak was just like him. She felt the same things he did, the same things none of the other Irkens did. The same things that ousted them as inconnu, strays from the norm, outcasts. She was recognizing that and seeing an end to her loneliness inside her glass world when she saw what she was looking for in him for the first time in centuries. It was that she had latched on to.

If things were different, he would have accepted it and pursued it. But things were not different. There was a message inside of a small computer that made all of what Tak desired impossible for him to reciprocate.

"We can't go down that road," he told her quietly. "And don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about."

Tak let go and sat down. "You're the only one though," she whispered so faintly he hardly heard her. "You're the only one who . . . is like that too." Fiercely she looked up, the old resentment seeping back. "Why not?"

Zim sighed. "It's complicated." Very complicated.

Tak made a fist and smacked it into her palm silently. Did it twice. Suddenly she looked at him. "If things ever . . .get uncomplicated . . ."

Zim had to smile. She understood, even as she frantically clung on to the inner realization in herself. It was her form of forgiveness. In hatred there was a tiny part that was screaming to get out and it finally did. Not caring what she thought or what anyone else would think, he hugged her and left.

Tak watched after him. A lot of things passed through her mind then, although what they were no one would ever really know. She lay down after a few minutes and resumed waiting for the medic.