Hello all, sorry for the delay in writing! I swear I'm trying to build a better schedule haha. Anyway, my tumblr is back up, I also have a deviantart now... trying to really commit and get back in the game and all that. I am absolutely committed to writing this story! Please enjoy! :D

Also, fanfic net is rumored to be shutting down or something, idk, but just in case, this fic is also posted on ao3 under the same name.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

The rest of breakfast went by in relative silence. Gir was content to scribble on the printer paper Phil had provided, and Gaz was actually a bit impressed he had stayed quiet this long. The food was good, too. Honestly, Phil was the most gracious host Gaz had ever met. Which is why she was so confused as to why Zim was acting the way he was.

Zim sat in silence next to her, and was pushing his eggs around his plate with his fork. He ate the bacon straight away, not surprisingly. Gaz felt slightly annoyed at his behavior. He's an adult (she thinks), he should have some basic manners and decency, but no. He's acting like a spoiled toddler who didn't get his toy. Or in this case, his sugar.

"Zim, the eggs are good." Gaz said quietly. "Why don't you try them?"

"Not hungry." He said in a cold tone.

"Come on, you and I both know you eat more than that."

"Not hungry." He said through gritted teeth, letting go of his fork abruptly so he could put his hands in his pockets. The cutlery clattered on the plate loudly, and Gaz didn't miss the subtle wince on Phil's face from the noise. Ever the face of patience, Phil regained his composure quickly, and smiled reassuringly at Zim.

"It's alright, my scrambled eggs have never been anything special."

Zim glanced at Phil and made a small non-committal noise before looking away again. Gaz mouthed an apology to him, but he waved it away with a slight movement of his hand. Phil stood, noticeably slowly, and gathered his plate, and reached out towards Zim, gesturing at his plate.

"Can I take your plate?"

Zim said nothing, but leaned back away from the table. Phil sighed and gently added his plate to his. Although Gaz tried to object, Phil was gracious and took her plate too, going into the kitchen to clear up. Gaz tapped her fingers against the table, trying to organize her thoughts, absentmindedly watching Gir as he doodled. The robot drawing like a child was … interesting. It almost confused her.

"Hey Zim?"

"What." His tone was flat, and Gaz rolled her eyes at the fact that he was still childishly upset. She chose to ignore it and carry on with her train of thought.

"Do you know why Gir is, well, why he's acting like that?" She gestured at the little robot, occasionally murmuring to himself as he scribbled.

"He is broken." Zim furrowed his brows in confusion. "You know this."

"Yeah, yeah, I know that." Gaz paused, cursing their large language barrier. "What I mean, is why is he acting like a child? A baby?" She couldn't remember if Zim knew the word for child, so she hoped he would figure it out. "I mean, I've seen plenty of broken robots in my time, and not one of them has acted like this."

Zim sighed and leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. "He… He is broken but, this is not…" Zim fell silent, closing his eyes to think. "He is not broken, but he is broken."

"That doesn't make any sense." Gaz turned to look back at the robot, but something caught her eye. Phil was quietly rinsing dishes, but his antenna were turned and still. He was listening. She didn't think that meant anything bad, but added it to her mental notes.

"I," Zim's voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she looked back at him. "I am say… he…" He uncrossed his arms, and tapped the table, at the same time calling out for Gir. "Gir, gepwe el geg egal. Ngaí Gaz chin chúsek kal ot giteísoízh ga ngaol z̀eír chich, ta, ad al kha ú eístoí eípwíich, re vaí 'aí fiíoízh ga a ídeízh gi." Gaz blinked, and felt frustrated that she wasn't able to catch any words, and turned to get Gir's response. The little machine's eyes flashed red, and then back to the comforting blue.

"Lesi says… he says that this is my, uh… my original pancake, I'm not really that broke, and that I was s'posed to be a kid!"

"Pancake?" Gaz asked.

"Program! Sorry!" He chirped happily, and returned to his drawing. "I'mma good kid…" He said to himself.

That made no sense, Gaz thought. Why would anyone have a purposefully dumb robot? She turned back to Zim.

"He's meant to be a child? A baby? Why?"

"No, lin, yes… He was baby, not today." Zim turned more in his seat to face Gaz. "I get Gir, I am baby, chich, child? I am no child, big today, and Gir was big. He is broken now."

Gaz pressed her tongue against her teeth as she thought. "So… he was given to you when you were a kid, and he was… updated as you got older?"

"I don't understand."

"Gir, ask Zim if your program was updated as you two got older." The translation game was tedious at times, she admitted to herself, but it was better than scrambling around Zim's limited vocabulary.

"Lesi, khíel aokh gi ngeíshozhoízh sizh eg eímoízh ifoíta?" Zim's eyes immediately lit up with recognition as Gir finished speaking.

"Yes! That is right, do you understand?" His frame relaxed slightly with the relief of being understood.

"Yeah, I do, but why?"

"Eh?"

"I mean, is that common? These robots that grow with you?"

"Ad, no. I get him… I get him from…" He pressed his lips together and his eyes shifted away. His eyes squeezed shut, and when they opened again Gaz could see a bit of wetness in the corners. "I don't want to talk." He pushed his chair back abruptly and stood. Movement in the kitchen drew Gaz's eyes, and she looked to see that Phil had taken some steps back towards the dining area. Zim glanced at Phil, frowned, and turned to stalk down the hallway towards the guest room. He didn't get far before Phil called out.

"Zim, wait one moment, please?" Zim paused, almost mid step, and straightened himself to his full length before turning slightly towards Phil.

"What?"

"Here, I meant to give this to you before breakfast but I must admit that I forgot." Phil walked into the living room, and leaned down next to the couch, standing up to reveal Zim's shiny silver briefcase in his hands. Zim's eyes widened, and he quickly stepped forward, almost pulling the thing out of Phil's hands. He clutched it against his body protectively, stepping back away from Phil almost immediately.

"How…" Zim stuttered, glancing down at the briefcase and back up to Phil. "Aokh zadkhoj…"

"Well," Phil sheepishly stuck his hands in his pockets. "I must confess, it wasn't that hard. Those army guys weren't even guarding the damn thing. Too busy out looking for you, I suppose. It was simple enough to swoop in and get it. Not light though, is it?" He laughed airily at his comment, but Zim didn't even crack a smile, which made Phil clear his throat awkwardly. "Well, I'm happy to have returned it to you."

"Thank you." Zim said quietly, albeit still tensely. However, the small apology caused Phil to smile brightly.

"You're welcome!" Phil looked over at Gaz and gestured next to the couch. "I also grabbed what I think is your suitcase." Gaz followed where his hand had pointed, and sure enough, tucked behind the couch was the dark purple suitcase she had been dragging around with her this whole time.

"Wow, Phil, thank you." She said, genuinely grateful he had risked his safety just to get her clothes… and whatever was in Zim's suitcase that was so important to him.

"Of course, anything to make my guests comfortable." He smiled warmly. "I don't get many, I have to make this count!" He chuckled again at his small joke. "Now, unfortunately I have to get going, I have work to do."
"You have work?" Gaz asked incredulously. All the while Zim walked around Phil, in a wide berth, to sit down on one of the living room couches.

"How else would I make money?" His eyes twinkled mischievously. "Luckily for me, I work from home. I'll be in my office, at the last door at the end of the hall, if you need me. I do ask that it be an emergency only situation."

Gaz nodded and pushed all the questions from her mind. She doesn't want to act like Dib after all. Besides, it makes sense. He clearly has money, and he has to get it from somewhere.

"Right, emergency only." She said confidently. Phil smiled and waved slightly before walking away towards his office. She watched him for a second, before her eyes slid over to Zim, and a sight she hadn't seen before.

He was sitting on the couch, facing her, and in his lap was his briefcase. But it was open. He wasn't doing anything, seemingly just staring at something in his hands. Gaz slowly stood, but as soon as she took one step, his antenna twitched, and he looked up at her. His hands pulled back, and he quickly closed the briefcase. Gaz groaned internally, disappointed that her curiosity about what was inside it was forced to wait longer. In her annoyance she almost missed Zim quickly rubbing at his eyes as she approached. Almost.

"You okay?" She sat next to him as he gently placed the briefcase on the ground at his feet.

"Yes."

"Are you sure? You've been acting so strange lately."

"I… I am fine. I am."

"Okay." She didn't feel like fighting him about this at the moment, he was clearly on edge and not going to open up about anything anytime soon. So instead, she got comfortable on the couch, pulling up her legs and curling up into the corner of the couch. From where she was sitting, she could watch Gir as he scribbled, just in case he gets bored and tries to rip off Phil's cabinet doors or something. Who knows. She had to admit to herself that Gir was slightly cuter now that she knew he was supposed to be a child… Weird, but slightly, slightly cuter. Especially as he's being calm and doing something he likes that's not destructive. Something he likes to do…

"Hey Zim?"

His bright red eyes widened in surprise, clearly he had been in his own world as well, but he shook it off quickly, his antenna twitching being the only physical sign.

"Yes?"

"What do you like to do?" Gaz leaned her head against the back of the sofa, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"What do I like to do?" His antenna leaned in one direction, another signal of confusion that Gaz was getting used to. "I don't understand."

"I mean, is there anything you like to do? Or something you're good at?"

"Good at…" He pursed his lips, contemplating her question. "I am good at... At knife?"

"Knife?" Gaz asked, not liking where this is going. Without hesitating, Zim leaned forward, reaching down his left boot, and pulled out a rather large and scary looking knife. Gaz blanched at it, she had no idea he had that!

"Uh..." She said.

"Look." Zim flips the knife in the air, catching it by the blade, and twirls it in his fingers perfectly, finishing his little flourish by throwing the knife up again, catching it by the handle. "See? I am good at knife."

"... Right." She said, and cleared her throat. "Why don't you put that away."

"Away?"

"Yeah." She gestured at her own leg with the hands wrapped around her knees, and then at his boot. "Is there anything you like to do that is less... Dangerous?"

Zim blinked, and although Gaz knew he didn't fully understand what she said, he hums in thought as he effortlessly slips the knife back into his boot.

"I am good at…" He took a deep breath. "My mother say... She say I am good at... What is word..." He tapped his foot on the floor as he thought, taking a few more unusually deep breaths, and then looked up at Gaz. "I am good at... At..." He frowned, clearly frustrated, and then stood up. He took a few steps towards the center of the room, shoving the coffee table back a bit with his foot to give himself more room. "Look." He said. He took a step backward with his left foot, and then swept his right foot elegantly in a semi-circle to move behind his body. Slowly and elegantly, he lifted his hands in the air, and moved again. Lifting his left foot, placing it back down on the ground to his left, but toe first. Then came his right foot, a subtle twist in his ankle. He continued this pattern, adding little embellishes in his movements, and moving his hands up and down, as if dancing with an invisible partner. As if dancing...

"You can dance?" Gaz asked, more surprised than she was willing to admit.

"Dance? Is that the word?" He said as he stopped.

"Yeah... I'm just a little surprised. I can't believe an alien can dance... And be good at it, I think."

"Thank you." He smiled wildly, puffing out his chest with pride. "I am good dance! Can you dance?"

"Oh, no. I've danced maybe once or twice in my life. I'm really not any good."

"When was small time you dance?"

"At my aunt's wedding."

Zim blinked, obviously having no idea what 'wedding' or 'aunt' meant, but he mentally brushed that off. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Like I said, I wasn't very good, so my mom let me stand on her feet so I could 'dance' with her." Gaz smiled softly at the memory, but her smile soon vanished. "That was right before..." Her voice trailed off, and she pulled her knees tighter against her chest.

"Before?" Zim took a small step towards her, but didn't sit back down.

"Before she got sick."

"Gaz-"

"So yeah. I'm not a good dancer." She smiled weakly. "Not one of my skills."

Zim stared at her, and his left antenna twitched as he contemplated something. "Do you want to learn?"

"What?" Gaz laughed. "I'm not a good dancer, Zim."

Zim scoffed, and gestured his hand towards his shoulder, as if metaphorically throwing the idea away. "You are not right."

"Zim-"

He waved his hand, gesturing for her to get up from her seat. "I teach! Here, I teach you."

"I don't know Zim."

"Please? I like dance. I teach you to dance. I am good teach." He smiled brightly, and Gaz sighed. If it got him to cheer up, what's the harm. She released her legs, and was stretching out when he spoke.

"We need... We... Do you have..." He stopped speaking, fumbling for the word, but then gave up, and began to hum. It caught Gaz off guard a bit, Zim humming. He clearly wasn't tone deaf, but remembering that music is a thing on other planets was still odd to her. It's a tune she doesn't recognize obviously, and at first she's a bit confused, but when it hits her, she's almost embarrassed she didn't realize sooner. Music. He wants music.

"Music... If I had my phone, I could play some music for you, but... I don't..." She paused, and looked around the room for a CD player or a radio, and then she noticed it. In the corner next to a modern looking flat screen TV was a record player, with shelves of those big 12" records next to it. Bingo.

Gaz finally stood up and walked over to the corner. She had enough knowledge about records and record players that she could make this work, hopefully. She knelt down and shuffled through the records, careful not to use too much force or drop any by accident before she realized she didn't even know what she was looking for.

"Hey Zim, can you hum again?" He stared at her blankly, but before he could ask, she hummed as an example, the simple tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, but she hoped he would get it. "Can you hum again?" Gaz gestured to her throat. "I want to know what kind of music to look for." A look of understanding crossed his face, and he nodded, humming that alien tune again.

Gaz wasn't going to make any claims to be a music aficionado, and definitely not a musician, but she did take a music theory class in high school for an easy A. So she began to count. One and two and three and four, one and two and… 4/4 time. Okay first mystery about alien music solved, they at least have a 4/4 time signature.

"Okay Zim, you can stop now." The humming stopped and Gaz returned to flipping through the records. 4/4 time made it easy, she could pick anything that didn't have 'waltz' in the title.

After a bit more record shuffling, she settled on a record of… Die Zauber... something overture. Okay, so she doesn't speak german, but she recognizes the name Mozart. He's a famous musician after all. Or a composer? Both? She rolled her eyes at the silly train of thought. It's not like it mattered, they're all dead, anyway.

She carefully pulled the record from its sleeve, she set it on the record player, and gently put the needle down just as her mother had once showed her. The soft crackling of the record filled the air, followed by the gentle sound of string instruments.

Gaz stood up and turned back around to see Zim standing in the center of the room, looking at her expectantly. He had pushed the coffee table to the side more. Somehow, she was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she missed that. She took a deep breath, and walked towards him.

"So, how does this work?" She asked as she came to stand in front of him. Zim smiled warmly, seemingly excited to show her this.

"Give me hand. Both hand. Here." He said, holding his hands out. Gaz didn't hesitate, she placed her hands in his. Gently, he lifted their hands up, and maneuvered his to be palm out, facing her. Gaz automatically mirrored him, and their hands were now palms together, slightly below their line of sight. Zim smiled assuredly at her.

"Look." He crossed his left foot behind his right, and swept his right foot elegantly across the floor, moving it outward to the right. He points his foot briefly before placing it on the floor. It differed from what she saw earlier, so Gaz figured that there were different stages to this dance. "You, now." He said, pulling her back to reality before she could think about it more. Gaz frowned to herself, but carefully imitated the move, mirroring him as best she could. Definitely not nearly as smoothly as he did, though.

"Okay... that's not so bad..." Gaz said. She could do this for sure. Zim smiled, and went to move again, this time stepping backward, and gesturing with his head for her to step forward with her mirroring foot. Again, not so hard, she thought. Now that weird sweeping movement, again. Slowly, they moved in a sort of box style waltz-that-was-not-a-waltz, moving around in a circle. The footwork was a little weird, and it frustrated Gaz that he seemed to do it so elegantly, while she was struggling with it so much. After a few rotations, he stopped. His antenna twitches as he listened to the music that was picking up pace, and smiled slightly.

"Now, hand also." He said. Slowly, he moved his right hand upwards, and Gaz kept her left hand pressed against his, causing their hands to move together in unison. Zim guiding them, of course. After raising their hands together, he moved it out to his right, and then down, and back up to where they started. As soon as that was done, he mirrored the motion with his left hand, and Gaz's right, only with a small twirl and flick of his wrist that Gaz wasn't prepared for. That frustrated feeling came back again, but Zim interrupted her thoughts. "Now, we dance and hand."

They started the foot movements again, this time with the hand movements, but after the first set of steps, he pulled his right hand away, gesturing for Gaz to do the same, and moved it out to the right, twisting his body away from hers a bit as well. Gaz got the hint, and mirrored him again. They continued slowly dancing, as the music had quieted back down again, and Zim continually added new, relatively simple hand gestures, always returning to the neutral palm against palm position.

"This isn't so bad." Gaz said softly to herself. Sure, she couldn't land every single hand gesture or footstep, and definitely not with the elegant flair that Zim was, but she was doing all right, she thought. She was so focused that she didn't notice the music suddenly pick up speed again, and Zim grinned.

"Dance and hand and you." Zim said with a smirk.

"Huh?-" Without warning, Zim removed his left hand from her right, and quickly dipped it down, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her in close to him. She opened her mouth in surprise, but no sound came out, and she flushed with indignance at his act. Gaz had no time to think about it however, as Zim picked up the pace of their dancing with the music. With no clue what to do with her right hand, she awkwardly rested it on his shoulder. His hum of approval was barely heard over the music. Gaz ignored the warm feeling in her face, and focused entirely on making sure she didn't trip on his feet. Even with the faster routine he was still moving their hands in a small routine, it was so complicated!

Thankfully, the music stopped. Gaz was sure she was on the edge of tripping and falling flat on her face, but luckily she didn't. For now. She absentmindedly noticed that the music had started again, this time with an opera singer accompanying it, but that wasn't what had her focus. Zim smiled approvingly at her, and pulled her right hand to be in between them with his left, his right hand still resting on her waist.

"See? You can dance." He said softly.

"I suppose… that was technically dancing." Gaz laughed softly. He murmured something under his breath, and absentmindedly ran his thumb over her fingers.

"Dance… now?"

"You mean again?"

"Yes." He gestured with his chin towards the record player. "More music so… we can dance, yes?"

"… Fine. One more dance, but if you overwork me I swear I'm gonna trip and eat shit."

"Eat-"

"Nevermind."