Chapter 6

No More Space Battles

Zim held on to his antenna, the last remaining piece of his old life, minus, of course, his red eyes... and his robot... and his enemy... Well, So it wasn't the last thing, but it was the only thing he felt like concentrating on. The day had gone by in a huge blur, and he no longer had his computer to tell him what exactly went on, and what he should do about it. His eyes shifted their focus, and he watched his reflection in the glass. Intense eyes glared back accusingly. Was it all his fault? Should he take the blame for this, or was it his leaders? No! It was never his leaders' fault! The old ideology seemed to kick him in the face. How dare he think that! He shifted his gaze skyward, eyeing the tiny pinpricks of light. They seemed to shine down, taunting him. He would never fly with them again. No more space, no more beauty. Undoing the window latch, Zim slid it open, sliding his torso out, and looking up again. The chilled night air felt uncomfortable on his flesh, but he wanted to see them, something familiar.

Dib stood outside of his bedroom door, hand posed an inch away from the knob. Was this really the answer? He had easily decided during his dinner that Zim was unfit to be alone, about as unfit as he was to be human, but there was nothing he could do to change that. He contemplated opening the door. They were such horrible things, doors. Sure they could be used to keep some one out or in, both wonderful ideas, but they can also be used for a cover. You can hide behind them, and kill the unsuspecting person outside as they went to walk through. That was the dilemma that Dib was at. Did he really feel like taking the chance? Moving that extra inch he turned the door knob and entered. No gun met him, no sharp pain or loud noise. At first he couldn't find the other, but then he noticed the half of a body remaining in the room. Slowly he approached, trying to find out what Zim was up to. After some investigating, he realized he still had no clue. Sliding up another window, he looked out and at the ex-alien.

"What are you doing?" He didn't move, but answered simply

"Nothing." Dib followed the unwavering gaze up to the sky. At first he looked for anything out of the ordinary. Maybe an alien ship, or laser blasts. Then he began to think more logically. Maybe a plane, or satellite. Still nothing caught his eyes.Finally he narrowed it down to the stars, and he hoped he was right. Pulling his head inside, and latching the glass shut, he tested his theory.

"They're the prettiest in the winter. Probably a month or so."

"I'm sure." Zim pulled his head in from the window and looked at the boy. Dib stood with the towel in one hand, face pale and tired, his shirt moist from his damp hair. Zim narrowed his eyes, exasperatedly. He didn't want to hear this. He didn't want comfort or sympathy. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to win, the Tallest cheering his victory, and the Irkens praising his contribution to Impending Doom II… Instead, they had abandoned him, turning him into the enemy. He clenched his teeth in frustration, and sat on the windowsill. Dib moved toward his bed, throwing the towel into the corner. He pointed at it as he continued to watch the ex-alien,

"You can sleep in the bed. I have some work to do anyway."

"Sleep?" Zim asked, slightly confused, and wary.

"Yeah. Sleep. Humans do that to get back their energy." Zim didn't move, and Dib turned away from him, taking a seat at his computer. "Suit yourself. You'll feel like it eventually." Zim was skeptical.

"Why would I need to sleep, while you don't have to?" Dib began typing quickly, watching lines of information scroll across the screen. His glass-covered eyes darted back and forth, taking it all in,

"I know how to manage my energy, and I've learned to survive on little sleep." Zim was getting annoyed. How dare the human be able to do something he couldn't.

The hours ticked off the clock, and as it neared quarter to midnight, Zim was feeling the effects of being tired. He spoke up for the first time in two hours,

"I don't like this feeling." Dib's fingers slipped up on the keys, the computer protesting by making a loud beeping noise. He had stiffened before turning to face the ex-alien,

"Then go to sleep."

"How do I do that." Dib paused, mouth open. Slowly he turned around, pushing his chair away from the desk. He slid his glasses off of his face, and rubbed his eyes,

"That's a good question." Zim didn't like this. He was really tired now, and felt a little sick from the feeling, his mind swimming in a light haze. Dib pointed back to the bed,

"First, you should probably lay down. Its not too comfortable sleeping on the ground, or sitting." Zim stood from the spot he had taken on the floor a few hours ago and moved to the edge of the bed, looking at it. He stood there for a moment before Dib spoke up again,

"You have to lay, Zim."

"I know" he barked back, swallowing his pride and pushing himself to lay.

"Then… Well, you close your eyes, and—just, fall asleep." Zim raised an eyebrow. First he had to lay, an already vulnerable position. But then his enemy had instructed him to close his eyes? This seemed unreal! He had fallen into this trap so easily! Dib seemed to realize what was going on, and sighed loudly,

"Jesus, Zim! I'm not going to friggen kill you!" He turned back to his computer, back facing the annoyed boy, "Just figure it out yourself. I don't have time." Zim growled at the boy, about ready to stand up and walk out, not caring where he would go, when an odd feeling began taking over. He felt so relaxed, and warm, and he found it increasingly hard to keep his eyes open. His final thought before falling asleep was, 'I've been drugged.'

---

Zim awoke with a startle the next morning, launching himself into a sitting position, the loud beeping echoing around the room. His crimson eyes darting around the room to the offender, a small alarm clock on the desk next to his enemy, whose face was plastered against the keyboard in front of him. Zim was panting loudly as the boy began to stir, groaning in protest. Half-heartedly he reached out, slapping his hand onto a button located on the top of the box. He slid his chair out, and slumped to his feet. His glasses lay on the desk next to the computer, and he rubbed his eyes tiredly as he searched for them. He slid them onto his face and ran a hand through his hair. He shuffled his feet over to his closet, and pulled out some clothing. With out giving a second thought, he slipped his shirt over his head, and discarded it on the floor before grabbing a clean one. Zim just sat on the bed, watching this entire process. It seemed odd, that humans would remove clothing, only to replace it with another set. He also took note that the boy he had hated so long seemed to have more muscles then the alien had ever thought he had. The layer of clothing was replaced, and another was being removed. His pants were slowly taken off, as he tried to get his brain to wake up. The little sleep he managed to get wasn't rewarding in the least, and had, in a reality, made him more tired then he already was. His hands moved to his boxers while he turned, only to see his nemesis staring at him. With a shout, Dib was awake, and panicking. The memories of the last few days seemed to flood to the surface, and he glared at the alien,

'Don't panic. Just calm down.'

"Do you mind giving me some privacy!" The alien looked offended, narrowing his gaze,

"Not my fault you started changing your skin right in front of me!"

"Well its not my---" he faltered, not knowing what retort could possibly be used against that, "It's clothes! Just--- stop watching me, damn it!" Zim let out a huff before laying back down, tossing the covers over his head. He was still tired, although he wouldn't admit it. He lay there for a few minutes, listening to the small mumbles of Dib, and the rustling of fabric. Dib had been swearing. Complaining under his breath about how he had fallen asleep, and how sore he was, and of how he had forgotten his enemy was there, and several other things. He only stopped when he heard a yawn from under the covers. Zim wasn't asleep again, but he probably would be soon. Sighing, Dib moved across the room.

Zim's curiosity got the better of him as he heard the door click shut. Slowly he peaked out from under the sheet, and looked around. The room was deserted. Slowly he relaxed, turning onto his back, a sigh drifting out of his mouth. He could hear water running somewhere in the house, and he concentrated on the noise. It seemed oddly calming, and he let his mind drift. At first he just thought of how odd he felt. His stomach had a slight pain in it, and the clothes lay funny on his new body. His skin had a strange oily feeling to it, and the air seemed to taste different. He soon learned that the air didn't taste like anything, but it had a scent. It wasn't exactly unpleasant, but different. It smelt like nothing, but like a person; Dib to be exact. Zim's mind seemed to realize this. Of course it smelled like the boy, he basically existed in there. Zim's mind continued to work through these ideas that came to him, at a different pace then he was used to. It wasn't hurried, taking its time to realize everything. He turned his head, breathing in the scent of the pillow. He liked this new feeling, smelling. It felt so much different then the tasting he was used to. The pillow smelt like Dib's hair, a mixture of shampoo and sweat. He felt his consciousness slipping away, as sleep began taking hold.

He had no idea how long he was asleep before a weight on the bed made him open a sleep filled eye. Toward the end of the bed sat Dib, slipping a boot onto his foot. He laced them up slowly, taking his time, never in a rush. Zim rolled over to face him; Dib didn't look up,

"I didn't mean to wake you." Dib knew that was a stupid lie. If he didn't mean to he could have sat on his chair, but he was hoping that the ex-alien wouldn't realize how obvious it was.

"I wasn't sleeping." Zim said indignantly, trying to stifle a yawn. A light smile graced Dib's lips as he turned away, grabbing his other boot and slipping his foot into it.

"Well, if I have your full attention, I'll tell you what you can do." He stood, making sure his feet were sitting comfortably inside of his shoes. Content with the feeling he finally turned to look at Zim. He was laying on his side, covers caught around his waist, and face pressed against his arm, listening obediently. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction. Dib just watched him for a minute before pointing at the door.

"I made you a sandwich while I was making myself breakfast. When you get up you can have it, it's in the fridge." Zim nodded absently, rubbing an eye. "You can also take a shower. I'll leave some clothes out for you, but put the shorts back on again. They can be your underwear until I can take you shopping. I'll talk to my friend today, and see if she can help you, I'm not one for fashion. You remember where the bathroom is, right?" Zim nodded again. He remembered the horrible adventure he had in there the night before when he was first instructed on how to use the toilet. It was odd trying to master it with his new body parts, but it was even harder trying to get his host to explain the proper way since every time he would try he would become distracted.

"Well, I'm sure you can figure out how to use the shower. I left out a towel and a wash cloth for you. That should be all you need. Just... Don't go through any of my stuff. There's a TV downstairs. Just try to stay out of trouble until I get home from school." Zim rolled over again, turning his back to the boy,

"Fine, stink beast. I'll not destroy you or any of your precious stuff." Dib smiled. It felt good to have a little of the old Zim back. Moving back to the closet, he pulled out a pair of black pants that no longer fit him, and a plain black shirt, tossing both on the chair to his computer. He grabbed his bag from next to his bedside table, hiked it over his shoulder, and walked out of the room. Zim didn't move as he listened to the front door shut. It all seemed too unreal. He was left alone in his enemy's base, basically free to wreak havoc and escape during the 6+ hours he would be alone, but he felt no urge to. He felt like listening to the boy, cleaning himself up and eating some food, not touching anything, and wait obediently. He was whipped, and he knew it, but the irony was that he did it to himself. Letting out a heavy sigh Zim rolled over and looked at the pile of clothes. Slowly he pulled himself out from under the covers, grabbed the stack, and walk out of the room.

---

The tiled floor of the bathroom was cold to Zim's bare feet as he stood, staring at himself in the mirror. He was unable to do it the evening before because his host was always around, but the boy now thought it safe to give his new body a checking. He began at his head. Antenna were still present, sticking out of his long, straight black hair that had finally stopped growing around shoulder length. His skin was pale, such a stark contrast from the green tint it was prior, but then he started to get confused. There were several parts of his new body that seemed to have hidden purposes. Zim finally gave up with a sigh and moved across the tile to the shower. He grabbed the washcloth and stepped in, remembering Dib's brief explanation and hurried demonstration of what to do once he was inside. Sliding the frosted glass door shut, Zim turned on the water. The showerhead sputtered to life, spraying down freezing water. With a yelp, Zim jumped backward, huddling against the wall. He looked at the dial, realizing the reason for the winter-like water. Trying his hardest not to let the glacial water touch his skin, Zim shoved the dial from cold to hot, taking a deep breath. He waited as the steam rose. Finally he reached out, fingertips grazing the water before pulling them back with a hiss, cradling his hand. His skin burned, and he rubbed at it, gritting his teeth. His other hand moved around the pouring water, slapping at the dial, trying to cool it down. Zim waited a moment before venturing out again. The water was a little on the cold side, but he figured he'd rather be a little cool then let the shower beat him. He grabbed the white bar off of the shower rack and began to lather up the cloth, the same way he was instructed to the evening before. He washed his body absentmindedly, not really thinking of much.

As he rinsed the soap from his body, Zim began observing the shampoo bottles. Wiping the dripping water from his face he grabbed the first of two bottles, popping it open. A strong flowery scent flooded from the small container, attacking the ex-alien's nose. He closed the container with a cough, rubbing at his nose and replacing it next to the other. He grabbed the other one, timidly opening it and breathing it in. A soft, earthy scent exhaled from inside, and Zim breathed it in slowly. The strong sent overtook his senses as he coughed.

Zim rubbed the towel roughly on his hair, leaving odd spikes and tangled strands. The entire room smelt of soap, and he liked it. He figured that if there was anything he would get used to being a human, it would probably be the showers. He frowned lightly with the re-realization. This was permanent, a solution to a long rooted problem: him. He bit at his bottom lip, a new habit he had picked up. He found himself doing it more and more frequent as he thought. He slowly dressed and headed out of the door.

The noise from a western movie blared from the living room where GIR and Zim sat. The ex-alien nibbled at the sandwich, not really enjoying the taste, but hungry enough to still eat it. GIR had been down there all night doing basically the same thing. The movie wasn't interesting. An outlaw had kidnapped a lovely lady who was calling for help from the hero. Finally reaching his wit's end, Zim addressed the android,

"GIR. Can we PLEASE watch something else?" The robot looked distraught, as if this idea was blasphemous.

"No! I need too see the eeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnnnnnndddddddddd!" Zim sighed in defeat, another thing he found himself getting used to, and returned his attention to the sandwich in his hands.

About three hours later GIR had fallen asleep and Zim was clicking through the channels. He had no idea what humans and his servant saw in these mind-numbing channels, but it just wasn't revealing itself to the boy. In a huff he turned off the TV and chucked the remote at the coffee table that sat in front of him. Immediately he began searching for something else to pass the time. He stood and looked around. Magazines were roughly stacked next to the couch. Some were paranormal, some gaming, and others were science oriented. The frown grew on Zim's face as he sifted through them. Soon he came upon a magazine that wasn't like the others. The cover was drawn in a beautiful style depicting a snowy scene with two figures standing there, backs to the reader. He flopped himself back onto the couch and began to flip through it. Glorious pen drawings littered the pages and foreign writing accompanied it.

His mind wandered trying to concoct a story to go with the images. A half-hearted story of a guy and a girl, torn apart by a bloody war was what came out as his eyes closed wearily.

The surf slid around his ankles as he looked down from the pitch-black sky. The water was cerulean, crowned with white, but dulled to a light gray the farther it proceeded out. He turned timidly. Behind him was a large, flat stretch of land travailing off to the horizon. Large crevices and cracks littered the barren landscape, making the journey treacherous. Zim seemed to notice this and returned his gaze to the ocean. With silent resolve he stepped forward into the water and, with a silent splash, disappeared bellow the shifting cover.

Something held him there, the darkness that surrounded him was cool and breezy on his skin. Faint noises could be heard from far off, illogical and confusing. Nothing seemed to connect as he hovered there, until a loud crash jerked him up, light pouring into the dark sanctuary.

Eyes wide in shock, Zim looked hurriedly around the room. The TV was on again, turned to a war movie, but no one was around. Licking at his dry lips, the ex-alien spun, letting his bare feet hit the ground. Slowly he stood, wobbling a little. The altitude was uncomfortable, and his joints popped and cracked as he stretched a little. He could tell he was less flexible than before, another thing to hate about his new state. Closing his crimson eyes as the adrenaline began to flow out of him, breathe flowing regularly in and out of his lungs, he took a few steps forward, wanting to walk of the jittery feeling.

"Watch it." Zim opened his eyes, only to be face to face with a blue collar line and pale flesh. Shifting his orbs up a little, he noticed Dib looking down at him, annoyed. Taking a step back, He licked his lips again,

"Were you making the noise?" The paranormal investigator moved passed him, taking a seat on the couch with a plate, two sandwiches stacked on top of each other. A glass was grasped in his other hand, filled with milk.

"Yeah. I dropped the phone."

"The phone?" Dib nodded, setting both on the table, and motioning to the spot next to him, for Zim to sit. Wearily the ex-alien obliged, sitting on his legs.

"Yeah. I gave my friend Alicia a call. She's going to be the one that's taking us to get you some clothes. Have a sandwich." Zim leaned forward and took one, nibbling on the corner a little. He wasn't too fond of the taste, but his stomach wanted it. The story was true, but missing several parts. It was true that he had dropped the phone while speaking to Alicia, and that she had agreed to take the two boy's to the mall, but it wasn't because of his clumsiness.

It was purely based on shock from her surprising insight into his personal life. Dib had not mentioned his obsession's transformation to any of the swollen eyeball, or to anyone for that fact, but she had known it immediately, as soon as the boy had mentioned the name. Zim narrowed his eyes. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. His life isn't supposed to be like this.

A/N: Next update after 40 reviews is reached.