Disclaimer: I unfortunately will never own Invader Zim!
When I wake up in the morning, my routine always consists of a shower, blow drying my hair, getting dressed, and doing my makeup. For the first time since I got this apartment I am extremely grateful for the ensuite bathroom now that I have a roommate. I never wanted to share my space with anyone, really, but I'm growing pleasantly accustomed to Zim's presence. He's actually kind of… nice. I guess I should consider myself lucky for having a nice roommate.
When I open the door to the living room, I can see that Zim is already awake, probably working on Gir, and has folded his blankets neatly on one side of the couch, as usual. I wouldn't even believe that he actually slept except for the fact that he was sleeping the first day when I brought him here. His species must need less sleep than humans. Before I step past the safety of the threshold, I make sure to alert Zim that I'm awake, lest he react in an unsavory way. Although, since I opened the door he already knows that, he's got insanely good hearing after all.
"Good morning Zim!" His antennae both react at the sound of my voice, and he turns to look over his shoulder and smile at me.
"Eífi'ith, Gaz." Good morning. "How was your sleep?" I walk around the couch as he talks, and sit down just in time to answer.
"Good, thank you for asking. You?" He looks to have made significant progress on Gir during the night, as the little robot is mostly back together now, save for many components yet to be put back in it's chest compartment.
"Good. Gir is fix soon!" He smiles that broad toothy grin and gestures towards Gir. "I am happy for Gir to be fix."
"I can see that! So what does Gir do, exactly?" His left antennae twitches and he winces a bit.
"He… He was a help to me, but now he is a… z̀eínaovwa. Eh, I like? Person I like? What is word…"
"A friend? Someone you like is your friend." He smiles.
"Yes! A friend, well, like a friend." Okay, Zim is friends with a robot…
"He's a robot, though. Is he able to have friends?" Zim immediately looks highly offended.
"Yes! Gir is smart! Irkez robot are smart. Gir has a not real brain, but he has a brain." So the most advanced artificial intelligence I will ever see in my lifetime is partially disassembled on my coffee table. Man, dad would have a field day if he saw Gir.
"Cool, I'm glad that you'll be able to get your friend back. Plus you would have someone to talk to in Irken again." I'm not sure how comforting that may be, given how he seems to feel about his home planet, but it must be exhausting to struggle to speak in English all day.
"Yes, but Gir can say English."
"What?" Gir speaks English? "How?" He shrugged.
"When Gir is fix, I teach him with computer." He points to my laptop. "Not hard. Gir can help my English." He taps his head with the end of the screwdriver he's holding. "I will learn fast with Gir help."
"That's great!" Gir will become the duolingo owl. Maybe I can find him a costume… "So, Gir is able to download information like that? Are you sure he'll even be able to connect to my computer?"
"Download?"
"Uh, computer learning. Download information." It will be a huge help when Gir is up and running.
"Ah, yes! Gir can download from all computer." Holy shit.
"That's really impressive." Zim smirks.
"I know."
"Look, I have to read a chapter of this stupid art book before I go to class, much as I don't want to do that. I'll be right back." He nods, and I head off to grab the book and come back to sit with him in the comfortable silence that hovers around Zim. It feels cozy, and I don't know why. I sit back on the couch, to the left of Zim, and start to read while listening to the quiet background noises of Zim's tinkering of Gir. I'm like to curl up into the corner of the couch and rest the book I'm reading on my knees, to take the weight of it off my hands. I can barely see the top of Zim's head over the book, and I realize that he's been healing unusually fast since the accident and I should probably remove his stitches. He seems deep in the work zone and I have class in a little bit, so I'll just do it when I get home.
I turn my attention back to the book and try to absorb myself in the dry and boring paragraph about medieval art. Maybe after this chapter I can also start that drawing of Zim… Ugh! I don't have enough time for all this stuff and I need to focus! In 1386, an artist by the name of-
"Gaz?" Zim's voice breaks me out of my newly found reading concentration. Not that I'm angry about any excuse to not do my homework. I flip the book down to see that Zim has put down his tools and is leaning back into the seat and looking at me.
"Yeah?" I have no idea what he wants. His left antennae twitches.
"Will you teach me?" Now I'm confused.
"Teach you what?" He points at the book.
"Teach me that." He wants me to teach him how to read! How did I learn how to do that again?
"Um, yeah. I can do that." I uncurl from my position in the corner of the couch and scoot closer so that I'm sitting next to him. "Um, these are letters… Uhhhhh." I have no idea what I'm doing, and then I remember. My dad taught me to read by holding his finger under the word he read as he would read to me. It somehow helped my brain make the connection between the letters and words, and the sounds they made at the same time. Over time, he began to let me read parts of whatever it was we were reading, so I could practice. I'm going to do that.
"Irkens write, correct? Like this?" I gesture to the book. I want to make sure that he's at least familiar with this, and they don't use hieroglyphs or color coded letters.
"Yes." He laughs, "Most all planets."
"Okay good." Before I start reading, I pull up the picture of the alphabet on my phone. "This is our alphabet. All of our letters," I point to the letters. "That make up our words. What we say. Does that make sense?"
"Yes."
"Alright. So, I'm going to read, and as I read, I'll point to the word. Understand?" He nods, and I begin. "Chapter four: Art in the medieval period. Although many call this period of time the dark ages, pre renaissance art was slowly beginning to flourish…"
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"Hello ma'am, my name is Major Ian Johnson. May I come in?" The old lady on the other side of the screen door looked quite suspicious as to why I was there, but nodded reluctantly and let me in. "Thank you, what's your name, ma'am?" I already know her name.
"Kathy Ollman."
"Pleasure to meet you Mrs. Ollman." We shake hands.
"It's just Ms. now." She shakes her head sadly.
"Oh I apologize ma'am."
"It's alright. Would you like some water?" I appreciate that she was being calm about all the government officials combing through her town.
"No, thank you. That's quite kind of you ma'am." She guides me into her living room and we both sit down on some old floral sofas. "I'm sure you're wondering what us government folks are doing, sniffing around here, however don't worry, it's nothing too serious. Unfortunately, a fugitive of the law has escaped near your town-"
"What? That sounds serious to me!" She gasped.
"Oh don't worry ma'am, they aren't dangerous. A computer hacker, you see? Hacked into some databases a while back. Now, we don't know much about this person, however we know they have a white female accomplice of an unknown age with blue or hazel eyes. Would you by any chance have seen anyone by that description?" Her blue eyes blinked in surprise.
"Why no! I mean, the only two girls around here with blue eyes are the Jenson twins, and they're as sweet as can be!"
Figured. The only woman around here that fits those descriptions and has O+ blood is Ms. Kathy Ollman, right in front of me. I'm getting the feeling that she's not involved, just like the other forty women or so I've interviewed. Not counting the women that the other soldiers have interviewed. This hunt for the Occupant is a wild goose chase that's a waste of my time.
"We're just checking all avenues, ma'am. Do you mind if I take a look around?"
"No, go right ahead. I assure you there are no computer whatevers here!" I excuse myself, and take a quick tour around her unassuming home. Not surprising, there is nothing of interest. Now it's an official dead end. Returning to the living room, I thank Ms. Ollman, and leave for my truck.
Now that this town is cleared, on to the next one. We're never going to find this thing. A woman with type O+... That's the only real clue we have. More than a third of the population has that blood type, and half of them are women, thankfully narrowing down that staggering number. Add in the fact that she's caucasion and has blue or hazel eyes, and you still get a frustratingly vague description. She could be anyone, be anywhere, and we may never find her, or the Occupant.
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"Zim, I'm home!" I always make sure to yell out now when I get home. Makes things easier for everybody. I drop my backpack in the hall and walk into the living room. It looked like he was studying the art book I 'forgot' to bring to class as it is now sitting open in his lap.
"Hello Gaz, how was class?" His English definitely is improving.
"It was good! I didn't fall asleep bored out of my mind, nor did I punch through anyone's annoying face. All in all, not a bad day. How are you doing?"
"Learning the book. It is hard, but Gir will help when he is fix." Gir is almost complete now, looks like he needs a few more adjustments and then he'll be on his feet. Doing robot things, I guess.
"Nice!" I come over to sit on the couch. "You should probably take a break though. It's easier for you to learn if you take little breaks, yes?"
"I know." He closes the book and gently places it on the coffee table. When he turns to me and smiles, seemingly thinking about something, I notice it.
"Hey, I think it's time to remove your stitches. It's only been a week, but you sure heal fast." The wound on his forehead looks great, and I'm sure his arm looks the same way.
"You think? Do not worry, I can do it." He softly touches the stitches on his forehead and frowns, ever so slightly.
"No, I insist. It'll be easier if I do it. Um, stay put for a second, I'll go grab the first aid kit, just in case."
"Fine." He grumbles. When I return with the kit he looks less annoyed and more nervous. "You know this?" He says.
"Yeah, don't worry! It will be fine!" This shouldn't be that hard, right? He sighs.
"I trust you." He leans in so I can better access the stitches on his forehead. I take a deep breath, and get to work, carefully using the first aid scissors and tweezers to cut and then gently pulling out the stitches. To Zim's credit he doesn't wince once. He would kill it at poker. It doesn't take long to remove them, and his wound thankfully seems to have fully healed. I suppose I can chalk that up to incredible advanced alien immune systems or something like that.
"That's all done!" He leans away from me and touches his forehead and smiles.
"Thank you, Gaz."
"It's really no problem. Oh I almost forgot! I have to do your arm too." The injury on his arm is much too high for him to comfortably roll the hoodie sleeves up, so…
"Um, Zim, you're going to have to take the sweater off." His left antennae twitches and I feel like I blushed. I better not have. He sighs and goes to take it off. I scoot away slightly to give him room. His hoodie hits the floor next to him, and I try hard to keep my face neutral from the shock I'm in.
There are dozens and dozens of scars all over his body. Just like on his arm when I first saw it, some are thin and hard to see, while others are thick and raised. There's one right below his ribcage that's only a few inches long, but it's scarred so badly it's a half inch thick and darker than the surrounding skin. I must have not been able to contain my shock because Zim lightly shakes my right shoulder to get my attention. I snap out of it to look at his face, and his small, sad smile.
"I do not want to scare. I am okay, yes?" I nod, feeling like an idiot, my gaze constantly being drawn to the thick scar below the ribcage. I can hear him softly chuckle, sounding miles away over my own heartbeat. I see him point to the scar, and I'm brought back to reality to hear him speak.
"It was knife. I did not have a nice Gaz to make stitches for me."
"I'm sorry." I whisper, before I can even comprehend what I am saying. Suddenly both of his hands are on my shoulders, and his face is right in front of mine.
"It is not you! Do not be sorry." He looks serious, and his voice is rough. "It is past now. I am good." He smiles a stronger smile, and let's go of me. I'm finally able to turn my attention towards his arm and am able to remove his stitches.
"I know that it wasn't me." I break the awkward silence as I work. "I'm sorry that it happened at all. You didn't deserve that." He chuckles, but it's dry and without humor.
"You do not know that." His left antennae twitches, and he turns away from me.
"Yes I do." I say with newfound determination. "I know enough about you to know that you did not deserve that. Whatever you think of yourself, whatever this horrible thing is that you think you have done, it is not worthy of this." He stays silent. "I cannot think of someone who deserves this." I whisper.
"I can." I don't want to know. The last stitch is out, and I flash a large fake smile.
"There! All done." He leans over and grabs his discarded hoodie.
"Thank you." He says as he puts it on.
"No problem."
"Hmm." He picks up the art book and begins to study it again, but I think he should relax, especially after that stressful conversation. Or at least I want to relax, because it was stressful for me.
"Do you like movies?" He turns towards me.
"What?"
"Movies. It's a form of entertainment here on earth, just like reading. It's when- actually, I'm sure you have something similar on Irk." I wave away any forming questions he has. "Sit back, relax, and let me pick something." I'm old fashioned and still have a rack of DVDs, because I like having hard copies and the real visualization of what movies I own. After a few minutes of searching, I find what I'm looking for.
"You seem to feel guilty about something that happened to you, and while I don't know what that is, I can assure you that what happened then does not affect you now." He opens his mouth to argue. "Furthermore, you are on earth now, and you said yourself you're not going back to Irk, so I think you should think of this as a fresh start." I slide the DVD into the player. "Now scoot over! You're taking up the whole couch." I go to curl up in my corner, and I toss him the DVD box. He studies it, and tries to read it as the movie loads.
"The… Eeeroon-"
"Iron." He shoots a quick glare at me then smirks.
"I learn. The Iron, guy-ant."
"Giant. Well done!" I smile as extra approval.
"Thank you." He looks back at the case and mouths the words once more to himself. I hit play.