"No, you have to rinse it first. Like this."

Gaz reached into the sink to help Zim. After Phil went to his room, Gaz said that they should clean up, do something nice for him, and Zim offered to help.

"Like this?" He asked, finally using the scrubbing brush correctly to clean the plate.

"Yeah, you've got it."

He smiled nervously, and finished scrubbing the plate, glancing at Gaz for some sort of confirmation that he had done it right. She nodded, and he carefully placed the plate on the towel to his left, reaching for the next one. Gaz had told him to focus on rinsing the plates first, then he was going to learn the dishwasher.

"You really have never done this, have you?"

"No." He said quietly. "You do not…" He glanced worried at her. "You do not think I am… efesízh… uh… bad food?"

"Bad food?"

"Yes. Bad food, because I have servant. In Irk... They think I am bad food."

Oh. Spoiled. Gaz blamed her slowness on the uptake on her exhaustion.

"The word is spoiled. Brat, coddled, privileged…"

Zim blinked at her.

"Nevermind. Just remember that it's 'spoiled'. But no. I don't think you're spoiled. You just… haven't had some experiences that most people have. Which, like Phil said, isn't your fault."

"Dib…"

"God Zim, ignore him. He's an idiot and doesn't know what he's talking about. For crying out loud, he's spoiled. Not everyone can ditch college and get a fancy RV to wander through Idaho looking for a yeti or whatever. I think he forgets that we're rich too sometimes." She rolled her eyes and leaned against the sink. "So ignore him, okay?"

Zim stared at her, saying nothing.

"Zim?"

"What is call-ed? Rich? ...Idaho?"

"Ohhhkay. Idaho is a place. Like Irk, or America."

"Ah."

"And 'rich' is… Well, remember spoiled? You had servants because your parents are rich. Because they have money."

"Yes… Many money." He looked down at the sink, and sighed a bit as he closed his eyes. "My parents…" His shoulders stiffened, but he quickly shook it off, and looked back at her. "And college?" His pronunciation was slightly better this time, but of course still layered with his thick accent.

"College is a place where people go to learn. Uh, so you know how I teach you, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, people that teach other people for money, those are teachers. And a college is a place where there are teachers that, um, teach. It's a special school, um, that's like college, that's for adults… Are you understanding this?"

"...Yí thaívwezeích... Kaí 'ekud ízaobodoízh." He muttered to himself, then seemed to realize where he was, and snapped his head up fully. "Yes, yes I understand." He frowned and turned back towards the sink fully. "I hate college."

"Well, it's not for everyone." Gaz said matter of factly. "It just sucks that these days it's so required."

"You… do not like it?"

"Oh actually I liked my classes." She sighed. "College has a lot of cons. It costs a lot, there are so many annoying people, my next door neighbor blasted the tv day and night! But I did like living on my own, my classes. It's nice."

"And your yí teacher?"

"Teachers. In english we use 's', remember?"

"Ta, sorry."

"It's okay, and I liked them for the most part, yeah. My history teacher was annoying though."

Zim sagged a bit, almost in relief, and smiled.

"Good. I'm glad." He unclenched his palms and reached for the plates again. "I want you happy." He picked up a plate and started scrubbing at it again. "Like this?"

"Yeah, like that. You're doing really good! Not spoiled at all." She chuckled. "Real spoiled brats wouldn't want to learn."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She looked down at his hands, frowning to herself as she noticed once again that he was shaking. "Yeah… Zim are you-"

"Sorry to interrupt."

Zim and Gaz looked towards the entrance of the kitchen to see Phil standing there, his hands in his pockets. Zim stiffened up immediately, squeezing his hands tighter on the plate and scrubbing brush.

"Hey Phil." Gaz said, knowing already that Zim wasn't going to say anything.

"Hi…" He smiled awkwardly. "I told you that you didn't have to do the dishes. I was going to take care of it in the morning."

"No, it's fine. You've done a lot for us. Dishes are the least we can do."

"Well you're my guests. It's only polite."

"Phil, let us do the dishes. Come on. Zim needs to learn how to anyway!" She lightly pushed Zim in the shoulder, trying to elicit a reaction, but he didn't do anything.

"Well alright." He regarded Zim carefully, looking him up and down, but didn't step any closer. "I do want to apologize for leaving dinner like that. It was ill-mannered of me."

"Nah dude, it's really fine. I get it."

Phil took a step forward, and Zim's head snapped up to look at him.

"Well, I am glad to hear that." He said carefully. "But I also wanted to talk to Zim about something."

"What." Zim's voice was flat, and he stepped back from the sink to fully face Phil, also seemingly putting himself in between him and Gaz.

"Zim… For the past few days you have been eating less. You're shaking."

Zim's antenna twitched.

"Gid núf shim z̀aíg." Zim hissed under his breath.

"Zim. I have noticed that what you do eat is a lot of sugar."

Zim's antenna instantly flattened against his head, and his left foot subtly moved backwards.

"What do you want." He growled.

"I want to help. I'm a little concerned."

Gaz stepped to the left for a clearer view of Phil, and narrowed her eyes. Zim did eat a lot of sugar.

"Help." Zim scoffed bitterly. "I not want your help."

"I know that." He said calmly. "But I think you need it."

"No I do not."

Gaz stepped forward to stand next to Zim, and he finally noticed her, turning a bit to look.

"Zim, are you okay?" She asked.

"I'm fine-"

"Does the sugar make you feel better? It's alright if the answer is yes." Phil said, raising his hands slightly to casually show Zim he means no harm.

"I'm fine."

Phil sighed. "Zim, I understand your desire to push any painful issues down. It's natural when one faces… Difficulties in life."

"Difficult-eez?"

"When life hurts. Or when people hurt you. Has anyone hurt you?"

Zim took a step backward, looking a bit shocked, and then narrowed his eyes.

"Zim is not hurt!" He yelled, and Phil's brows slightly raised in surprise. "You do not know Zim! Leave Zim alone!"

"Zim calm down-" Gaz reached out to touch his shoulder, but he twisted away from her sharply.

"Leave Zim alone!" His chest heaved as he backed up against the counter.

"Zim it's alright," Phil said. "No one here is going to hurt you."

"`Elukeí!" Zim screamed out, slamming his fist down on the counter. "Al 'elu! Chú 'elu, 'aí ao tojín! 'Aí ao tojín…" His voice dropped off as his antenna drooped down loosely behind his head. He faced the ground, and spoke quietly to himself again. "Egal ú waori, rith."

Gaz was now very concerned. She knew those words. 'Me not hurt please'. Don't hurt me please.

"Zim what is going on?" She said softly. He glanced at her, his eyes wide, and he rapidly glanced back in forth between her and Phil.

"I-"

"Okay." Phil said calmly. "It's alright. Listen to my voice. It's alright."

Gaz reached out and gently rubbed his shoulder, and he finally began to calm.

"You're okay." She said, "It's okay…" She turned to look at Phil, raised her eyebrows in a questioning manner. She wanted answers. Phil nodded at her, and raised a hand slightly, to indicate that he understood.

"Why don't we all go sit down?"

"No." The alien growled.

"Zim, please?" Gaz lowered her arm to hold his hand, and gave it a comforting squeeze. "We are safe here."

"I'll be in the living room." Phil said quietly, and left the kitchen.

"Come on Zim." She tugged gently at his hand. "...Marco?"

He looked up at her in surprise. "Polo." He said stiffly, and swallowed a lump in his throat. Gaz smiled and took a step forward. After a moment of hesitance, he finally followed her, and they walked into the living room.

Phil was seated in his armchair, legs crossed, and his hands resting in his lap. When Zim laid eyes on him, he hesitated again, but another gentle hand squeeze made him press forward and take a seat on the couch next to Gaz.

"Wait a second…" Gaz muttered. "Where's Dib? And that idiot robot?"

"I asked Dib to take Gir outside so we could have this talk. Well, more like bribed him. I said that if he did this I would answer 20 questions, ha… but that's not important." He laced his fingers together and took a deep breath. "Let's have a nice chat. Zim, how are you feeling right now?"

"Fine." He said through gritted teeth. Gaz nudged him in the side, shooting him a disapproving look.

"Be honest, Zim." Phil said patiently. "There's no judgement here."

"I-"

"Don't lie." Gaz said. "You don't have to lie."

Zim frowned at her.

"I am… figugídesa. Wao, I, ta… I am not happy."

Gaz knew that he was trying to find the closest word again… but the word for happy is zhiyu.

"Why is that?" Phil asked.

"Because I… I… Why are you ask? Why do you… kaon."

"Zim, I'm a psychologist. It's my job to care."

"Excuse me what?" Gaz gasped out. "And you didn't say this until now? H-how?"

"It wasn't important then. And to be fair, I was trying to mess with your brother a little." He said with a sly smile. "But for the abridged version, I got my PhD in psychology in 2003, with a focus in clinical science, and taught a few courses while doing therapy on the side before the… Well you know about that."

"A therapist."

"Well, that's more of an umbrella term, but yes."

"Huh. I wasn't expecting that."

"I can't imagine that you would."

"What is therapist?" Zim finally spoke up, looking quite concerned and confused. Phil opened his mouth to respond, but he stopped himself, to let Gaz explain it.

"Okay Zim. Uh, you know what a doctor is?"

"No…"

"Do you remember when I stitched up your arm? After the crash?"

Zim nodded.

"Well, a doctor is someone that does that as a job. Every day… For money."

"Na ya… z̀eír rik." He smiled like he always did when he learned a new word, but then frowned. "I do not need doctor?"

"Well that's the thing. A normal doctor helps fix your body. But Phil isn't that type of doctor. He's a doctor of the brain." She poked him in the forehead for emphasis.

"But…" Zim tilted his head in confusion. "I am soldier now?"

"What?" Gaz said.

"I am soldier. I do not need a brain doctor."

"What are you… Zim what are you talking about?"

He pouted in frustration and crossed his arms.

"I am soldier. The brain doctor say I am good to fight."

"Wait." Phil spoke up. "So you had a doctor evaluate your mental health? To approve you to fight?"

"Ta… Yes."

"And is that all they do?"

"Yes."

"What disqualifies you from service?" Phil asked curiously.

"Dis… dis-ka…"

"Disqualifies. What do the 'brain doctors' find to make a 'bad soldier'?"

Zim averted his eyes, and mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Weak. Brain weak make a bad soldier."

Phil grabbed a notepad off of his side table and picked up a pen.

"What kind of weakness?"

"If a soldier is…" He sighed. "I am bad soldier."

"But you said you passed?"

"Yes. I lie to be soldier." Zim fidgeted with his hands, trying to force them to stop shaking with sheer mental will. "Can I have sugar?"

"No, Zim… Do your brain doctors do anything else? For example, if you are sad, can you talk to one?"

"What? No! That is weak!" Zim rolled his eyes. "Kaío ú ishekhíd." He said quietly to himself.

"Are you saying they don't treat it, or you don't go to get it treated?"

"No treat. A soldier that is weak is bad."

"I see... Zim, things work a little differently here on earth. We treat these issues in a process called therapy. It makes you feel better, because it makes your brain feel better. Do you understand?"

"...If you treat me, that will make me weak. A bad soldier."

"That's not true. Zim, being sick is not weakness. Now I understand that you have been through some hard things, and that you are relying on sugar for-"

"You do not know Zim!" He snapped, pressing himself back into the corner of the couch. "You know nothing!" He dug his claws into the palms of his hands, and looked away in defiance. Gaz groaned at the sight, thinking that he was acting much like a petulant child… But obviously one that was hurting.

"Yes I do." Phil said softly. "The sugar is easy to see. It was a little hard to wrap my head around it in the beginning, I admit it, but you have all the signs of addiction." Zim flinched. "But I know that the sugar isn't the root of your pain. I believe that would be your father."

"You do not know Zim." He growled his words through clenched teeth, while Gaz felt her heart sink. She couldn't lie to herself and say she didn't see this coming, of course she did. She already knew. But it still hurt somehow to hear.

"Ever since you got here you have been on edge and uncomfortable. I think you see me as a threat, possibly due to both my size and age. That tells me that you were probably young when it started. And Gir has been drawing these," Phil pulled out several pieces of printer paper from in between the pages of his notebook. "And I believe that they are events that he has seen. Strangely, he seems to not understand that he is even drawing them. And I know that it wasn't just you, was it."

The room was still for a moment, with no one speaking, Zim unable to tear his eyes off the drawings Gir made. Finally, he sighed.

"No, it was not. My mother…" His voice cracked and he looked at the floor. "Siblings. Servants. Not only me."

"I am very sorry to hear that." He said softly. "Now, I would like to help you. It will be difficult for you to do, but overtime, if you participate, therapy will make you feel better. You won't feel 'weak,' do you understand?"

"I am weak."

"That's one of the things we'll discuss in therapy." Phil said with a smile.

"You should give this a shot." Gaz squeezed Zim's hand. "It will help you. I went to therapy, remember? I'm sure I told you that."

"I am not weak…"

"No you aren't. But therapy will make you stronger."

"You are sure?"

"Yeah Zim. I'm sure." She smiled, and rubber her thumb up and down against his hand to comfort him. "So will you….?"

He looked back at Phil again with that concerned look on his face.

"I…" He gulped. "I will. I will try…"

"Good." She said firmly. "It's going to help, I swear."