Disclaimer: I do not own Invader Zim, and (probably) never will. Back to Gaz!
Tw: Panic attack
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My car pulls into the diner parking lot and I try to park as far away from the diner as I possibly can. I also want to pick a car to hijack, and discretely, so I park on the left hand side of a secluded subaru. As soon as the car stops Gir wiggles forward in between the seats and screeches in my ear.
"Pretty lady can I get waffles?" Zim, who's busy checking our surroundings for any noticeable military presence nudges Gir into the backseat.
"Again, you can not eat." That robot is going to give me tinnitus. Dib does something incredibly useful and restrains Gir in his seat with the seatbelt.
"Okay." He huffs. "How do we steal a car? And we need to do it now before we get caught. Before we get caught! Oh my god I think I'm just now realizing what's happened. The army is chasing me, er, us! Holy-"
"Dib, please stop!" I need to breathe, he's freaking me out. In, out. In, and out. Damn, I didn't even realize I was breathing that fast before. Oh God, this whole thing is insane. I basically just quit college… I'll never get a degree? What's going to happen to my apartment? My plants? I need to breathe.
"Gaz." Zim pulls me out of my thoughts.
Suddenly my throat feels so dry and it takes so much effort to pull my voice out. "Yes?" I sound like I've been crying. Or screaming. Maybe I've done both. I'm not crying right now, am I? I feel like I'm losing my grip, is Dib talking? I need to breathe.
In.
Out.
In.
Why can't I breathe? Oh God!
"Gaz." Two hands clutch my upper arms and Zim's eyes are staring into mine. Zim. Zim, in all his green and red glory. Breathe. Focus on him. Oh, but my whole life… my whole life is gone. Maybe. I don't know. What if I don't even live to see tomorrow? Out, in, breathe.
"We need to go, Gaz." What? Go? I don't want to move. I don't think I could if I tried, I think I'm shaking. "…khú ripwe'e neírsikh…" That's Irken. Irketsi. Zim's language. His voice is nice. Wow, I'm friends with an alien. Didn't see that one coming.
Wait, where is Zim? He was just sitting there! His seat is empty, I didn't even notice him leave! Did they leave me behind? Oh my god I was left-
Someone grabs me by the waist and my seat belt unbuckles. No! I take in a deep breath to scream, in the hopes that whatever army brat grabbed me will let go.
"Let-" A hand clamps over my mouth, and my panic increases tenfold. I will go down fighting you bastard! I'm pulled out of the car, and held in the air. I try to kick and punch my attacker, and I get a few in before my limbs are restrained by something hard. Was I handcuffed? As a last resort, I bite the hand over my mouth as hard as I can. A sweet, and salty liquid fills my mouth. I would've expected blood?
"Gaz! Stop!" Zim? Where is he? Is he alright? Suddenly I'm sitting, and only then do I realize my eyes have been shut tight the whole time. I'm in the back of a car, and Zim is standing outside. The weird metal legs retreat into his pak.
"Zim?" My voice is so quiet. "What... But, the army?" In, out. Dark blood drips from his hand, and it's all I can see. I can hear my own blood pumping in my ears, it's pounding so loud I can barely think. I can't breathe!
A car door slams, and the car I'm in rumbles to life. It's moving, and I am moving, and my blood is so loud, his blood is so dark… I can still see it in my mind's eye. As dark as the nighttime field where I found him. Dripping onto the asphalt. Did I do that? Somebody is talking, and something is moving. Someone's hands are on my shoulders, and they gently pull me back.
My head is in someone's lap, and as I stare at the back of the seat in front of me, their fingers run through my hair. God, I'm so tired.
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Jesus Christ what a mess. The general will not be happy when he hears how badly we screwed this up. All we have to show for the millions of dollars of funding hastily shoveled into this project is a college students apartment and this… destroyed Nissan Sentra. Both the windshields are completely smashed, the right hand rear view mirror is gone, and the trunk is riddled with bullet holes. Of course, the tires are completely intact. Idiots.
"Doesn't anybody here know how to aim?" I direct my question at a nearby group of soldiers, who are standing around aimlessly waiting for orders. They all avert my gaze and focus on the floor or the cigarettes in their hands. When I look back at the damaged car somebody pipes up.
"We can aim just fine, sir! I was the one to shoot off the mirror, I only missed because the green bastard-" I whirled around to face the soldier in anger.
"Yeah, you're not supposed to kill it! Didn't anyone make that clear to you?" He crossed his arms and frowned, leaning against the army truck. Of course, his buddies seem to be focusing on minding their own business.
"Well, yeah, but he shot at us! I'm not gonna let some dumb alien kill me just because the Doc wants something to play with." I stare, slack jawed, at this complete and utter moron. I can't believe his arrogance. I'm gonna get so much shit for what happened today and he has the gall to speak to me like that?
"You're fired."
The cigarette drops out of his mouth when he sputters in shock. "What?"
"You heard me. Get the hell out of here."
"But I… Do you know how hard I worked-"
"Then you screwed yourself over. Get out of my sight." I make a mental note to draw up dishonorable discharge papers when I get back to my temporary office. I just can't have some trigger happy hero wannabe killing what we're after, because doctor Norton does want it alive. Although I know Norton wouldn't mind a dead alien, some part of me doesn't want to kill it either. I don't want to be responsible for the murder of the first alien on Earth.
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"How is she?" I maneuver the rear view window to get a better look at the alien - um, Zim, in the backseat. Gaz sure did a number on his hand, but he acted like he didn't even notice. It's almost eerie how calmly he wrapped his hand in a ripped off piece of fabric from his shirt. He radiates secrets and distrust, he makes me uneasy.
"She is sleep." He replies, his voice quiet. I can't quite see it, but I'm pretty sure he's running his fingers through my sister's hair. I don't like that. But, I'm the one driving because the all-mighty, advanced alien can't drive a car, and I can't be the one to comfort my sister. And the annoying robot is too short.
"Your hair is pointy." Speaking of…
"Uh, most people call it spikey. I can't get it to lie flat so I just-why am I telling you this? Hang on, what's your name again?" I sneak a glance at him, as his eyes turn red and he does a small salute.
"Gethid Ibugaolkeí Repwochúr!" His voice is harsher then, but when he stops speaking he slumps back in his seat and his eyes turn blue again.
"His name is Gir." Zim supplies from the backseat.
"Ah, uh, thanks." He nods, and looks back down at my sister, almost lovingly. I can feel a small pit of annoyance growing deep in my soul, but for the sake of us all, I push it down. After all, he has a gun, and has proven how to use it. I need to tread lightly here.
"So, I was thinking that, well, you need to hide from the government, right?" Am I really going to help this guy? This… enemy of earth?
"Yes."
"Well you're going to need a disguise, because you stick out like a green thumb at the moment. Maybe a wig, some contacts, makeup… and an oversized hoodie will do." Maybe. Don't think contacts could accurately cover those bright red eyes.
"If I-, Gaz said, that I… neírsikh. Gir, ngaí git'a kaí mipta a z̀eír pamimuz kaí mipta ít z̀eír khodajeítwoírní."
"What?"
"He says that he needs uh… some big word parts to make a hologram!" Gir kicks his legs happily in the passenger seat next to me like a child. It's kind of cute, actually.
"Oh. What does he need?"
"Pamimuz. Gir, translate."
"Oops, sorry! A particle render-thingy." Oh. I bet my dad has one of those. It sounds familiar. Ugh, I shouldn't help him! Who knows why he's on Earth! There's a multitude of horrible reasons and yet… he hasn't outwardly expressed any vicious intent. Except for the myriad of weapons he seems to have. For some reason, Gaz seems to trust him. Christ, I'm gonna regret this, I'm sure. I take a deep breath and glance at the rear-view mirror.
"I can get you one of those." His antennae shoot up with what seems to be interest.
"Oh?"
Gir jumps into my lap, almost causing me to lose control of the (stolen) car. Shit! The car swerves to the left, and I narrowly avoid a passing minivan as I swerve back to my correct lane. The car settles, some drivers give me the finger, and I look back at my passengers. Gaz is still asleep, but Zim's weird metal back legs start to retract. He must have used them to stabilize himself and Gaz when the car swerved. Interesting.
"What did you do that for!?" I bark at Gir.
"Will you get me somethin' too? I want waffles."
"Please sit back in your seat." I grumble. Cute, sure. Definitely annoying. And Dangerous. He does the closest thing to a shrug and crawls back to his seat, and begins to count birds on telephone wires. Loudly.
"Zim, what the hell is wrong with your robot." Zim definitely seems to come from some advanced alien race, whereas Gir is from a poorly made… walmart toy line.
"He broke. I need to fix more."
"Seven, eight, forty!" Broken indeed.
"You say you can get me pamimuz?" Zim continues, ignoring Gir.
"Oh yeah, my dad definitely has stuff like that." He tilts his head to the left.
"Your… Dad?"
"Uhh it's a word for father?" His antennae twitches and he nods.
"I understand." He looks out the window and I focus on the road, trying to ignore the fact that he's still running his fingers through Gaz's hair.
"Seventy-two, nine, eleven, six hundred and eighty nine…"
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In a darkened room, a man watches TV.
"Woohoo! Now that's what I'm talking about!" He shouts, cheering on the figures on the screen. He sighs and settles deeper into the plushness of his seat. A door opens, and light spills in from the hallway, but he ignores it. Someone scuttles up behind his chair.
"Uh, sir?" The timid voice said.
"Not now! I'm busy." The man snaps, rolling his eyes and waving a hand, to dismiss the figure.
"Sir it's important." The new figure repeated with urgency.
"Nah, I don't think it is."
"Sir… It's about the," He whispered. "Scan you ordered?" All at once, the man stands up, the blanket on his lap crumpling to the ground. He whirls around to face the figure, smiles broadly and leans in.
"And?"
"It um. It was positive, sir." A person on the television laughs, the figure attempts to swallow a lump in his throat, and the man's face twists in anger.
"What? How is that possible? We took every preventative measure!" He screams, pacing the room in anger. Turning back, he points an accusatory finger at the trembling figure. "Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?"
"Yes sir. We ran it twelve times." The man roars in anger and hurls a remote at the television, shattering the screen and plunging the room in complete darkness.
"What am I gonna do?" He whispered to himself. The figure stayed silent. "I know!" He snaps his fingers. "Get um… What's her name… She's uh, the 'best of the best' or whatever. Get her to make that test a negative, do you hear me?"
"Wh-who? Sir?" The man taps a finger against his chin in thought.
"It's… Ah! Her name is Tak, give her a call, why don't you."