Driver had hoped for this forced cohabitation to somewhat reconcile her and Zim; unfortunately, that wasn't working out at all.
First of all, they barely even interacted with each other: Zim adamantly refused to leave the secret underground room that doubled as a basement and repair bay and parking space for her ship until he finished repairing both their ships. In order to finish the job quicker, or so he'd said. And besides, because of his biology, he didn't need a bed, nor rest, not even a bathroom.
As a matter of fact, they only got to see each other thrice a day, whenever she came down to bring him a meal and check on his work.
And even with their interactions reduced to the bare minimum required, Zim seemed to have resolved to make them as unpleasant as possible: every time he saw her, his face would twist in an annoyed grimace, and he'd be invariably armed with a brand new thing to complain about, like… whatever he could possibly think of, really: the humidity, the temperature, the ventilation, or the pH of the room, the inadequacy of the instruments he had been provided with, her ship, her presence, the very fact that he was even forced to deal with all of it.
And on top of all of that, something that she'd never imagined would be a problem, the food.
No one had ever complained about her cooking: it was one of her trademark talents and she was very well aware and proud of it. And even in the rare chance that someone didn't like her food, she would've never expected something so… visceral.
Food was a problem down to the ingredients: Zim was a very picky eater, being unwilling or unable to eat a great deal of Earth food. He'd written down a no-no foods list for her reference, which included most vegetables and fruits, cheese, meat and beans; the last two had been additionally underlined, circled and crossed out with a red pen (which was weird, because she only recalled having given him a black pen). As a consequence, she'd had to restock half of her fridge with alien food for him, even though she prided herself on her farm being largely self-sustaining.
His critiques were even harsher when it came to her technique itself; nothing ever seemed to satisfy him: too salty, too sweet; overcooked, undercooked; one time, he'd even whined that his scrambled eggs had been stirred -quote on quote- 'in the wrong direction'.
She didn't know how honest he was with his complaints either: she got a sense that he took some kind of satisfaction from purposefully tearing her down, which was possibly even more infuriating than the critiques themselves.
Nevertheless, she tried her best to always respond impassibly and neutrally to his insults: she didn't want for things to escalate, not while they were on her planet, not now that he and the Boss had an official contract between them. Thus, zapping him with her ray gun would have to wait until that had expired. How unlucky.
There was only one specific circumstance when she could still take a good look at a non-annoyed, non-hostile Zim: the few seconds between the moment she stepped in the basement, and the moment he noticed her presence. No matter the hour, she would always find him diligently bent on his work, exuding inexhaustible energy; his little hands worked so precisely and quickly and gracefully, like they were dancing around the gears and the wires of her ship. His ruby eyes were attentive, focused, and so, so pretty. It hurt to admit, but she was still very much attracted to him, physically.
So because of his attentiveness to the work at hand, he never noticed her right away; but once he did, the spell would immediately shatter: his gaze would contort in an annoyed, frustrated grimace, and he'd immediately interrupt whatever he was doing to spout his rude remarks to her.
Now, after nearly a week that the same daily cycle had repeated, she'd officially given up on the hope of seeing the charming stranger she'd met on that night. He had vanished, literally overnight, like a prestige. Like a mirage. Now she doubted if he had really been there in the first place. Maybe he really was an apparition conjured by a mix of alcohol and a special set of coincidences. Maybe he really had never liked her at all. And even if he had, it didn't matter in the here and now: he clearly resented and hated her for what had happened and he didn't want anything to do with her.
Such a shame, really. It'd been years since she had connected so well with a guy.
But eventually, she was sure, she would get over it. She had her own housework and paperwork to take care of. Two weeks would pass by quickly, and then she'd be able to leave all of this story behind her.
Zim of course was doing all of this intentionally to keep her away from him, just according to her suspicion, but not for the reasons she thought. Not exclusively, at least.
Now, work was proceeding smoothly… sort of. There was a lot to do: several outer plates, the left engine, the internal plumbing and electric system, all of them were in desperate need to be fixed or replaced, or at least polished. Even before the supposed dangerous mission it had recently been through, that ship's maintenance had been long neglected and overdue. Ha! Such a poorly maintained ship would have never been admissible by Irken standards! It was lucky to have such a knowledgeable, meticulous engineer as ZiM to fix it up!
Sure, he didn't have the aid of an AI or an assistant like he would normally do. He didn't have all the instruments he was used to in his base. But still, this should have been an easy job for him: this was a simple, regular space ship; definitely not as advanced or as refined as Irken technology, and frankly, who even cared to do a good job on it? They hadn't noticed its pitiable condition before, they probably wouldn't now.
No, Zim's main problem were his own thoughts. Not about his mission, strangely enough, even though that anxiety had plagued him since the… incident. No, at the forefront of his worries was now the horrible human he'd been forced to share his workplace with.
The Cross… monster… whatever his name was, had drafted a contract for him on a makeshift sheet of paper right after they'd shaken hands; after he'd signed it, he'd called to the human girl and instructed her to attach his broken Cruiser to his car and drive them to his 'designated work station'.
A truly deceptive choice of words.
The car's rear windows were tinted in a way that Zim couldn't see outside and understand where they were going; in hindsight, that was very suspicious. Unfortunately, he was so ecstatic at the idea of getting all those monies, that he'd only thought of asking where exactly that work station was when they were about to land; the Monster had smiled a most slimy smile at him and had politely spelled out the unthinkable: he expected him to work at the wretched woman's house.
Of course, he'd immediately and strongly protested: he would have rather worked in a dusty old attic, a bathroom stall, an open air cesspool, anywhere that wasn't that human's house! The Monster had shaken his head, an understanding and apologetic frown on his face, but he'd still let him intend that there was no other place he could offer him. Or that he wanted to offer him.
Zim had reached for the nearest door handle and bravely jettisoned himself out of the vehicle, expecting for the cold, merciful embrace of open space to save him from his fate. It was too late: he'd tragically splatted face first onto the dirty surface of the human's planet, his horrified screams muffled by the soft grass under his mouth.
By the time he'd managed to lift himself back on his feet and turn around, ready to rip the Monster's throat out, he'd already taken the girl's place at the driver's seat: he'd gallantly tipped his hat at them, closed the door, and soared away from the planet, leaving Zim and his poor Cruiser trapped there with the human.
To Zim, it was clear as day: the Monster wanted to use the human to keep a close eye on him, make sure that he wouldn't just repair his own Cruiser, plant a secret bomb inside their ship, and then flee with the monies, which… uh… wasn't what he'd planned! At all. Maybe she would catch him by surprise and chain him to his work table, maybe by drugging him again, keeping him as their personal and highly efficient slave, forever...
But then, the human had nonchalantly shown him to the repair bay, and he'd drawn a breath of relief: it was an underground room, hidden in the core of the planet, well separated from her horrible upper house. He'd used his scanner, and attested that there weren't even hidden cameras or bugs that she could use to spy on him: by all accounts, their intentions seemed to be (mostly) honest. Most importantly, she barely ever walked down there: aside from the house's boiler and a few water tanks and food supplies stacked in a corner, everything else in that big room had to do with the maintenance of the ship, and she apparently had no notable knowledge and expertise in the engineering and mechanical fields.
So, all in all, as long as he focused on his work and never set foot outside, his staying wouldn't be so bad, right?
Wrong.
While he could very easily keep his body away from the human, he couldn't do as much with his mind: whenever work got too monotone, his thoughts would begin to wander. And they would always end up stumbling upon that horrible night.
And whenever they did so, he could feel his cheeks flare up, and his organs turn on themselves, and his very blood flowing faster, like he was having a full blown allergic reaction.
Something in the way that she'd touched him, in the way that she'd talked to him, had somehow… stuck to him. Like that memory was forever carved in his brains, in the very wiring of his PAK: sometimes he could picture it so clearly, he could almost feel the human's hands and mouth on his skin, possibly even more real and concrete than they'd felt back when he was intoxicated.
It had probably been such a traumatic experience, that his subconscious had become fixated on it. A defensive mechanism, to prevent him from lowering his guard and make the same mistake again. But to relive the experience so clearly every time that he dared to relax was in itself as torturous as that experience itself: truly a double-edged blade if there ever was one.
Of course, the presence of the human worsened this condition. But the very worst part was... that every time he saw her, he couldn't bring himself to see her as hideous. He just… couldn't bring himself to hate her. Not in the way that he hated his enemies, or the other humans.
Her face was pretty, especially for a human. Her eyes were attentive and intelligent. Her figure exuded an overall proud, elegant air that was just so… respectable.
He could force his mind to spell out how ugly, and dumb, and inept that human was all he wanted: deep down, he knew none of that was true.
If she cooked badly, at least, he would have something objectively, tangibly bad to say about her, but no: so many times had he carefully chewed on her food, flipping it over and over inside his mouth to find something that would disgust him, but he just couldn't. Her meals would inevitably all taste delicious, and now a part of him was even looking forward to tasting something cooked by her. A few days in, and he was already running out of imaginary critiques to move on it.
And, paradoxically, he truly hated her for all that she was putting him through. Really, he didn't know it was possible to simultaneously hate and not hate someone to this extent. It was truly insane. It was literally driving him mad.
Don't think about it, don't think about her, he would repeat to himself, Just hold on for a little longer, and then you'll have your ship and your monies and you'll never have to see her again!
That unfortunately didn't help much with his unwanted fixation. And those weird, disgusting thoughts were now taking their toll on his work too: they'd make him irritable and distracted, so he'd make more mistakes than usual; not big ones, they were mostly small slip-ups, like forgetting a valve on, forgetting to screw a bolt, getting calculations wrong, misplacing items. But in his state they were enough to tick him off, which would in turn cause him to commit even more mistakes. And so on and so forth.
Mistreating her was the one thing that helped, even if it was temporary. It was only right for her to experience at least a fraction of the discomfort that she'd inflicted upon him. Plus, if she really was in love with him, like that Boss Monster of hers had stated, she was potentially very dangerous: she might try to… seduce him again. His strategy seemed to be working very well in that regard: her discontent and anger towards him were growing day by day thanks to his calculated insults. He could tell by the look on her face. If he played the part straight and consistently soon all that leeh-ve would turn into hate.
And hating someone was much easier when they already hated you.
Unlucky for him, his plan came undone on that very fifth day of his stay.
The ship's damaged engine had been pretty unresponsive to his fixing efforts so far, even though he'd systematically gone through all the possible things that might be wrong with it. It was the only thing he'd worked on all day, from the early hours of the morning till late in the afternoon, so he was understandably frustrated.
This was his final idea to make it work, and if it didn't… the whole little planet would have been able to hear him voice his displeasure.
He was torso-deep inside the rear of the spaceship, his PAK's torchlight illuminating the interior of the engine: the aperture he was working in was dark, and narrow, and hot. Fixing up what he believed (hoped) was the problem had taken him more time than he'd anticipated, so he'd ended up feeling tired, and restricted, and sweaty. So… he was definitely not in the best of mental states.
Little did he know that it was about to get much, much worse.
He was just closing the oil tank, his arms stretched up above his head, when something dripped out of the edge of the cap: thankfully he was wearing protective glasses, or those big oil drops would have all landed straight into his eyes. Still, he had the displeasure of seeing them spread out all over his glasses, impairing his vision; and he felt a cold, wet sensation running up his right arm.
"Ah-! What! No!" Zim yelped.
He hurried away from under the ship, uncomfortably crouched forward, stood up ,and took off his glasses: the lenses were stained with the black motor oil. And so was his glove and part of his sleeve.
There must have been some oil trapped in the internal veining of the cap, and it had leaked out on him while he was screwing it back in place.
"But of course it did! UGH!" Zim shouted, throwing the dirty glasses on the floor in a fit of rage.
"This is JUST what I needed!" he growled. "I should be working on my Cruiser, not YOU!"
He ran up to the stupid, ungrateful hunk of metal that was that ship, and kicked it.
He walked back, his breathing heavy and his furious eyes glaring at the ship. It sat there, in front of him, like a big, fat, lazy animal. He really wished he could have crumpled it in his hands and tossed it in a trashcan like a piece of paper.
"You better turn on now, or I'll blow you up!" he threatened. "I'm not joking!"
He searched in his PAK, and grabbed a small remote control: he'd built it to turn on the engines remotely, so that he wouldn't have to climb back into the ship for each engine test. It was a big ship after all, at least for one person.
He pressed the big button in its center.
Of course, the ship decided to resist his orders once more. Obviously.
"Oh, come on, you stupid thing! Work!" Zim spasmodically hit the switch with his fingertip, over and over again, extending his arms as far as he could towards the ship.
Nothing.
"WHY WON'T IT WORK?!" the remote control followed the same unfortunate fate as the glasses, and it hit the floor with a plastic thud.
"I just tested it MOMENTS ago! WHY DOESN'T ANYTHING W-"
Wuuuuuu.
All of a sudden, he heard a low, howling noise coming from under the ship. Then, more noises followed: the stirring of gears and mechanical parts.
The ship was turning up.
YES! Finally! The engine was working as intended! He could even see a light, flaring up at the bottom of the left propeller! And it was getting brighter and bigger by the millisecond!
… it occurred to him, then: he was standing right in front of the propeller. In its line of fire.
"AAAAAAAARGH!" Zim barely evaded the huge blast of fire that erupted from the propeller: he launched himself to the right, making a lucky landing close to the remote control, and he scrambled to point it back at the ship. This time, the remote worked just fine, and the flame burning from the propeller quickly dissipated as the ship turned off.
Zim shuddered, still frightened and incredulous: he had almost died right there. That ship had almost killed him…
He looked around the room and checked for damage: thankfully, miraculously, the only damage that had done was a slightly blackened floor and ceiling. And him almost being incinerated. Really, he couldn't believe he was still alive-
"Hey! Zim? What happened?" an alarmed voice resounded behind him.
Looks like he was about to regret his new chance at life.
He jumped back to his feet, pushing down his shakiness, and turned around: the human woman was standing in the doorway, on top of the staircase to the main house, with a disgustingly concerned look on her face.
First a near-death experience, and now this? 'When troubles come they come together', don't they?
"Zim? Why did you scream?!" her worried voice grated on his ears.
He gritted his teeth. This wasn't her time to come. Dinner wasn't due for at least another hour. How dare she disturb him in his safe time? And for what?! To help him? Puah!
He jumped down the platform the ship was on, and headed towards her with heavy steps, with all the intention of giving her a piece of his mind.
"What is it that you want now, human?! I'm working!" he flailed his arms about. "Also, your wretched ship just tried to kill me! I fixed the engine just fine, and it tried to disintegrate me! If I didn't know better, I'd say it did it on purpose! I swear, you aren't paying me enough for this-"
"What?! What was that loud noise?" she dared to ignore him, "What did you-"
The human stopped in the middle of the staircase, speechless. For some inexplicable reason, her expression had suddenly turned from curious and worried to shocked and horrified.
What was wrong with her? Was she broken?
"… Zim" she said, quietly.
"What. NOW?!" he shouted back, exasperated at her puzzling behavior.
"Is… is your arm on fire?"
Zim was about to give her the good ol' 'shut up and go away' treatment, but his scream died in his throat as he processed what she'd actually said.
He looked at his left arm: no fire in sight. Just his old, regular arm. It was definitely not on fire.
He turned his head to his right arm: bright, red flames were eating at the fabric of his glove and sleeve. Yup, that arm was without doubt, decisively on fire.
"MY ARM IS ON FIRE! GYAAAAAH!" he screamed at the top of his spooch; he waved his arm around and started running in circles, hoping to blow the flame out.
The human said something, but he barely registered it: he was in complete and utter panic, because no matter how much he flailed his arm, the fire would just not go out, and it was becoming hotter and hotter on his skin. Painfully hotter.
Zim started to hyperventilate. He tried peeling off the glove with his left hand, he tried doing so twice, but both times his hand instinctively jerked away from the hot flames.
"COMPUTER! Computer, extinguish the fire!" he called out for help, but that wasn't the laboratory in his base. Therefore, there was no Computer to call for help. There was no one to call for help.
The fire was starting to creep up his arm, following the oil stain. Soon it would burn his shoulder, and then his neck, and then his face, and then he would-
A cold liquid suddenly splashed all over him, and the fire that had appeared so terrifying and unstoppable just moments before disappeared into thin air.
Zim stopped running, stupefied at the sight of that prestige: where there was fire before, were now his ruined glove and sleeve, with drops of a transparent liquid dripping down them- water. He'd been splashed with water. In fact, most of his body had been soaked in water.
He stared at his arm like that, mouth wide agape and panting for a few more seconds; he looked around for the source of that water, and saw that the human was now holding a mostly empty plastic tank: she must've splashed him with water and put the fire out.
The human threw the tank to the side and rushed towards him.
"Oh my God, Zim! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" she asked, looking all concerned. She bent forward, trying to reach him with her hands.
"I-I, uh-" he backed off with a fearful expression, like her hands themselves were made of fire.
He grabbed his right arm, to shield it from the human, and his skin sent out painful sparks at the contact. Just what he'd feared: there was some damage under there.
But the human insisted:
"Come on, let me see that arm" she tried once more to reach for it, but he swiftly turned away from her.
"Back off!" he shouted, eyeing her from over his shoulder. "It's nothing! I'm NOT hurt! Just go away and leave me alone!"
The human still didn't listen. Instead, she followed behind him:
"Oh come on, I can see that you're hurt. Stop acting like a child and let me help you" she remarked in an infuriatingly condescending tone.
"I am not a child and I don't need your puny help! Mind your business, WOMAN!" he screamed back.
The human huffed, looking more and more annoyed.
"Look, Zim, I am your supervisor. I can't just let you get wounded and leave it at that"
"HA!" he scoffed, hysterical. Was she for real? "You'd be MY supervisor?! Says who?!"
"Uuuh… The contract you signed…?" she retorted, as if it were obvious. "Without the Boss here, I am the one in charge".
Zim frowned. She was? No way, she couldn't be! There was no way in the universe that he'd let himself be 'supervised' by a human! Who cared what the stupid contract said anyway?! … which was why he hadn't read a single word of it.
"So you're going to let me see that arm, or-"
"You're not in charge here and you're not my supervisor!" he shouted over her. "I don't want your filthy hands on my skin! Begone with you! I'll be dead before I let a stupid human supervise me!"
The human closed her mouth, seemingly offended and wordless. Reassured that he'd put her in her place, Zim turned to check on his arm... but as soon as he did so, something gripped his tunic by the shoulder and yanked him backwards.
He instinctively pulled in the opposite direction, and saw in the corner of his eye that the human was attacking him: that sent him into a panic not unlike the one from earlier.
"AARGH! What are you DOING?!" he shrilled, flailing his arms around.
"Just let me SEE it-" the human hissed; her voice was much quieter than his, but it sounded just as angry.
She somehow managed to grab his supposedly wounded right arm, just under the shoulder, and turned his body around towards herself, making him even more furious.
"UNHAND ME!" he shrieked, "UNHAND ME THIS INSTANT!" he dug his heels firmly into the ground and pulled.
"I'm just trying to help you! Stop SCREAMING!" the human screamed back, "Let me see that ARM!", and she yanked him so hard that for a moment his feet jumped away from the ground.
"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP! I DON'T NEED ANYONE!" he desperately tried to pry her hand off his limb, "GIR! GIR, RESCUE ME!"
"WHO are you TALKING to?!" the human sounded more and more exasperated.
"HE- HE- HE-!" he stammered, just as confused by his own words. "H-He- AAARGH! JUST LET ME GO, I SAID! LET ME GO, YOU FILTHY ALIEN!" he shouted as loud as he could, aiming for her face.
"ALRIGHT, FINE!" the human roared back; she finally released her grip, so suddenly that Zim didn't have the time to stop pulling, and he tripped back down on his rear, the impact knocking the air out of his mouth.
The human took one more step towards him, furious and threatening.
"You're such an ungrateful, spoiled brat!" she hissed, "I don't even know why I worry so much! Just cure your stupid arm yourself if I disgust you this much! Just make sure the ship is repaired and do a good job at it! Set yourself on fire all you want for all I care, but if you damage anything else down here you're FIRED! You understand?!"
"Well- well- FINE! I QUIT! I don't wanna work for you anymore anyway!" he screeched back.
"You- you WHAT?!" she exclaimed, suddenly incredulous. "Are you serious?! Do you GET what you're saying?!"
Zim paused for a moment. Not really, no. He'd just said the first thing that had come to mind. He didn't expect her to take it seriously.
The human kept staring at him: her eyes were wide open, appalled and judgmental all at once; she looked so tall and… scary, towering him like that.
Zim looked down: he couldn't bear to look at her.
It was then that he realized that he was still sitting on the dirty floor of the basement.
It was then that he realized how pitiful his condition was: his arm hurt. His pride was hurt. His clothes were soaking wet. And he had no one to turn to for comfort.
"Well?!" the cruel human urged him to answer, impatient.
Zim winced. Being lashed out at like that, in the state that he was, almost felt like being punched in the guts. But it was too late to back down. He didn't want to look any weaker than he already did.
"I don't know!" he raised his voice. "I'm not- I can't work. I just can't work here, I-"
"What?! Are you for real?!" the human pressed him back, like she couldn't quite hear him, "Speak up! I don't-"
"Stop it! Stop yelling at me!" he pleaded.
He hung his head lower down, embarrassed: he had intended for his voice to sound angry and commanding, but instead it'd come out weak and begging. Why did it have to happen in front of that human of all people?!
"I quit, okay?!" he hissed. "So- so- you don't have to care for me anymore, I'll-I'll leave, and-"
"You can't just quit! Mister Krassmann has probably already ordered the parts for your ship! What are we gonna tell him?!" she rebutted.
Zim looked up at her and frowned, confused.
"Who?"
"Mister Krassmann… my- our Boss?"
"Oh, right… Just tell him to keep them..." Zim mumbled. Right, he didn't have the parts for the Cruiser yet. He hadn't thought about it. Well… he could… steal a ship, he supposed. That shouldn't be too hard. And then he would… uhhhh… he would…
The human interrupted his train of thought once more:
"Okay..." she breathed in, like she was trying her hardest to calm herself down.
"Okay, look. Can you PLEASE. Tell me what is actually wrong with you?" she spelled out very slowly.
Zim felt a spark of anger reigniting in his chest, and he glared at that dull, insensitive human.
"'What is WRONG with me'?!" he repeated, baffled. He opened his arms wide, as to point at himself. "You don't SEE what's wrong with me?! Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?! You don't know what I've been through!"
The human blinked, apparently surprised at his fiery reaction.
"I-" she tried to say, but he went on, his voice becoming louder and louder as he finally let his repressed emotions pour out:
"I am stranded on a planet I don't even know where it is! I don't have a ship! I don't have monies! I don't even know if I still have a mission any more! I KISSED A HUMAN ON THE LIPS! I could be put to DEATH for that! And now I almost died! I am sitting on a dirty floor, soaking wet, with a burnt arm! And now I'll be out of a job too! If at least GIR was here-"
"Who is Gir?" the human asked.
"My robot minion! From Earth! He-he- he may not even exist at this point! Because of ME! And- AND, do you have any idea how LONELY I've been?!" his voice cracked on that last word, and he abruptly stopped talking.
He sharply turned his head down, frustrated at himself for having revealed something so personal and pathetic to her.
He would have liked to lash out more, adding how insufferable and upsetting her presence had been to him on top of the whole ordeal, but he felt a knot in his throat, and his mouth trembled: he was sure if he said one more word, he would burst out crying. And he would have rather burned alive than do that in front of that human.
He held his sore arm, and his back slumped even further down: suddenly, he felt absolutely exhausted.
The idea of working together with that human and her boss-monster had been stupid from the beginning. How could he think this could ever work? He couldn't just go around trusting aliens like that. And besides, monies or not monies, ship or not ship, he still didn't have a concrete plan on what to do afterwards. To be completely realistic, there was a very concrete possibility that nothing could be done at this point.
After weeks, he was still stranded in space, wounded, and had possibly ruined his mission for good. He had been reduced to sharing a home with a human. A human he had… frolicked with. If any of his fellow Invaders or the Universe forbid the Tallest knew what he'd been up to, he would be a laughingstock for all of Irk.
And then he'd be rightly executed.
The human moved another step towards him.
"Zim?" she called him.
Her voice sounded much softer and gentler than before. It caught him by surprise.
He lifted his head up: her posture and facial expression were definitely calmer. She almost looked… understanding. And compassionate.
"I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sorry" she spoke in a sweet voice.
Zim's eyes widened, his heart skipped a beat. She hadn't acted so nice and sweet in days. It was making him feel… better, somehow.
Not a good sign at all.
The human made an awkward half-smile, and offered her open hand to him.
"Let's just go and medicate your arm, okay?" she proposed.
Zim flinched away from her hand. But... to be honest... he didn't feel like he had the energy to argue against her at all. What was the point of resisting now anyway? He had already humiliated himself, how could it get any worse?
In truth, the only thing he wanted to do right now was crawl into a corner and just. Stay there. Molding, perhaps. Forever. He might as well do so with a medicated arm.
He planted his fists into the floor and pushed himself up. His knees were still weak and shaky, but he stayed strong and stood up anyway. As long as he didn't have to actually lean on the human, it wouldn't be too bad, at least.
That was good enough for her, though: when he did so, she started walking towards the stairs. Zim followed behind her, his face down and his feet dragging.
When she reached the top of the staircase, a plate automatically sled to the side, and they set foot in the house's living room through the secret door hidden behind the pendulum clock. The pendulum clock sled back into place behind them a few seconds later.
Then, she guided him all the way to the kitchen; she moved one of the chairs from under the table and put it in front of the sink; she signed him to get up on it.
Zim sighed.
Let's just get this over with.
He jumped on the chair; the human almost turned the tap on, when she seemingly had some second thoughts:
"Maybe we should bring you to a doctor" she considered, "I've heard burnt fabric can stick and fuse with your skin-"
Zim pinched his glove by the fingertips and took it off with a swift sweep, like a plaster.
"Oohhh!" the human groaned, as if she'd felt actual pain from it. "Man, you're so brave".
Zim rolled up the blackened, burnt sleeve and checked his arm.
Well… it wasn't AS bad as it felt. But still, there was a relatively big scald extending from his wrist up to his elbow on the upper side of his arm; it wasn't very deep either, but his skin had assumed an unhealthy pinkish-gray coloring in certain areas, and it hurt, especially now that it was exposed to the air.
Zim groaned, both from the pain and the annoyance at it all: that was probably going to take a couple of days to fully heal.
Luckily, the glove had taken most of the damage; but now, it was pretty much unusable: the outer layer had practically melted. A few more seconds, and the fabric really would have fused with his skin. Disgruntled, Zim let the ruined glove fall on the floor.
The human turned the tap on, she gently placed her fingertips on his healthy skin and guided his arm under the cold water.
"Aaah..." Zim flinched as the water splashed all over his scald: relieving, yet painful at the same time.
"Does it hurt a lot?" she asked.
"Hm" he responded with a stoic grunt.
He moved his arm from under the water and checked it again: little bits of dead skin were already peeling off. Ew.
The human placed a hand on his shoulder, turning his torso towards her; before he could even process what she was doing, she grabbed the lower edge of his tunic and pulled it up, taking it off him in one fell swoop.
"HEY-!" Zim yelped, startled and embarrassed, his arms shooting up to cover his chest. What did this human THINK she was doing?!
The human paid him no mind. She just turned his tunic in her hands, inspecting it closely.
"You've spilled oil all over it" she observed, referring to the motor oil that had leaked on him during the engine fix. "And it's wet. Do you have any changes?"
"I-! Er… I-I... don't…" he admitted.
"Hmmm… I'll give it a round in the washing machine" she placed the tunic on the counter next to her. "Do you wanna get that one off too?" she then gestured towards him: she was pointing at his wet, burnt shirt. The only barrier between the human's eyes and his naked body.
"N-no! My shirt isn't dirty!" he protested.
"The sleeve is burnt, and it's wet" she calmly pointed out.
"I-I don't wanna take it off! I don't have any spare shirts!"
"I'll give you a towel. Or one of my own shirts-"
"No!" he hissed, feeling his cheeks burning up. "No, I'm fine, really! I'll just wait for it to dry off!"
It was gonna be uncomfortable, but definitely not as much as being half naked in front of her would have been.
"Are you sure you don't wanna take a shower, at least?" the human tried again.
"I'm not dirty. I'm FINE" he hissed.
He'd never taken a human-style shower, but it looked incredibly unpleasant. And it would entail him being naked on the same planet as her, which was even more spooch-turning.
The human finally gave up on her stripping offers. She crouched, and looked for something in the cabinet under the sink; she stood up with a small white case in her hand: a first aid kit. She opened it, and took a little tube out.
"Give me your arm" she said.
"… what is that?" he asked.
"It's a cream against burns" she replied, squeezing the white cream onto her fingers, "It will make it heal a lot better".
Zim stared at it for a moment, hesitant. She was helping him way more than he had anticipated. He wasn't sure he was comfortable with that. Then again… what other choice did he have?
The human grabbed his hand, putting her thumb in the middle of his palm, to keep his arm still; with her other hand, she spread the medical cream all over his scald.
Zim shuddered at the contact: the cream was cold, and his skin stung under her fingertips. To be fair, she was touching him as lightly as possible, moving her fingers with slow, delicate movements. They were almost hypnotic.
Once she was done with that, she grabbed the gauze roll from the first aid kit and started wrapping it around his forearm.
Zim had stared down at her hands, working to medicate him, with a growing feeling of awkwardness.
This… kindness seemed so excessive. It didn't feel right. He felt the strong need to say something, at least, and point that out.
"You don't have to do this, you know…" he murmured.
"Hm?" the human asked.
"Didn't you hear what I said? I'm quitting the job. We aren't… under contract anymore" he explained, just a little bit louder.
The human said nothing for a few seconds; she simply kept on wrapping his arm with the same rhythm. Then, she finally spoke:
"I think you're just upset. And hurt. You can make a definitive decision about the job after you're well rested and in a better mood".
Zim looked up at her, furrowing his brows.
"'Rest' and 'good mood' are not going to solve my problem" Zim flatly rebutted. "Probably, nothing is-"
"Oh, don't be ridiculous" she cut him off. "All problems have a solution. Everything is going to work out in the end".
Zim stared at her, not really knowing how to respond, as she finished bandaging his scald and secured the gauze with medical tape.
Of course, her reassurance had no weight or substance to it, but she had spoken so calmly, so matter-of-factly, that… it at least felt concrete. It had almost convinced him.
The human turned and ripped a piece of paper towel from its roll; she dampened it under the tap's water, and started wiping the top of his head with it.
"Wha-?!" Zim instinctively drew back from her hand. Seriously, why was this human so intrusive?!
"You have motor oil all over your face" she justified herself, moving her hand towards him.
"U-uh-" Zim's cheeks flushed again. All this time he'd walked around in front of her with motor oil stains all over his face?!
The human started wiping a spot near his right antenna, either unconcerned or oblivious to his evident embarrassment.
"Look, Zim" the human said. "I know you don't like humans. And I know things between us are… complicated, right now. But... for now, we need each other's help, right? We are on the same side".
Zim stared up at her face. She was wiping his cheek clean now, and she was looking at him with a kind, sweet smile.
"Let's just start from scratch and help each other out, okay?" she proposed.
Zim's heart jumped in his chest, and started racing. The human looked so… pretty. She emanated an aura of warmth, and calmness, and comfort, that he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. It left him completely paralyzed, unable to look away from her eyes.
For a moment there, he felt absolutely certain: she was about to kiss him. Any second now, her hand would squeeze his shoulder, she would lower her face, and press her lips against his. Those rosy, soft, damp lips… his body tensed, and his jaw clenched in anticipation, his breath was cut short-
Instead, the human turned from him; she opened one of the lower cabinets and tossed the paper towel in the trash can inside, leaving Zim confused and… something else. Something negative.
Something like… disappointed? But WHY would he ever-
"Blueberry or strawberry?" the human asked.
"… uh?"
"How do you like your schmoothies best? Blueberry or strawberry?" she repeated.
… what? … Why was she asking that…?
"I mean, blueberries, but-"
The human walked away and opened her fridge, a couple counters to his left.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm making a schmoothy" she replied, taking out a bottle of milk.
"… a… schmoothy?"
"Yeah. I thought I heard you ordering one once" she took out a small paper bag, too.
"… and?"
The human placed the two items on the closest counter and turned to him.
"I don't understand what you're confused about" she said, cocking an eyebrow.
"Why are you preparing one?" he insisted. He was, in fact, utterly confused at her.
"I just thought it would be something you'd like" she shrugged. "You ordered one once, right? At the bar"
"Oh…"
Really? She remembered something like that?
"Uh- uhm, you-" he stammered, "You don't… need to… er…"
"It's fine. It's no biggie. Desserts work wonders when you're feeling down, you know?" she explained as she retrieved a mixer from one of the upper cupboards.
Well… she wasn't wrong. Now that he thought about it, drinking a schmoothy right now would have been great. But still… to have her make it...
"Ice?" she asked, gesturing to the refrigerator.
… then again… he'd wanted to drink one for weeks. If he refused now, who knows when else he could have gotten the opportunity to?
"… yes, please" he nodded, defeated.
The human went on to prepare it: she mixed the milk and the blackberries from the paper bag into the mixer, added a teaspoon of raw sugar, and blended them.
Meanwhile Zim, who on her request had moved his chair closer to the table and properly sat on it, waited patiently and awkwardly for her to finish the drink without uttering a single word. Man, his arm hurt: he could feel it pulsing under the layers of gauze.
The human finally poured the violet-tinted schmoothy in a tall glass, added the ice and handed it to him.
Zim grabbed the glass with his head low, feeling shy and absolutely mortified having to accept yet another favor by that human.
He closed his lips on the edge of the glass and sipped. Delicious, as usual: that schmoothy was creamy, and buttery, and bubbly. Every other schmoothy he'd ever tasted seemed like dirty water in comparison. He could hardly believe she'd made it using only a handful of raw Earth ingredients and a primitive human mixer.
He picked the straw from his PAK and used it to drink the rest. The human had instead turned her back to him: she'd picked up his tunic, put some kind of soap on the oil stains and was now rubbing the dirty fabric under the running water of the sink.
Zim could barely handle that sight: he'd never felt so embarrassed having someone do a favor for him (well, a series of favors, more precisely). Something about that situation didn't feel right. As in, beyond the whole having-almost-died thing.
He wasn't supposed to accept that human's kindness. He wasn't supposed to treat her politely. What had happened to his resolve to keep her away from him as much as possible and never step foot in her upper house? That human had kissed him. He had been KISSED by that woman. He should have been mad at her! Murderously furious! Instead, look at him: he was sitting in her kitchen, drinking a beverage made by her, with a wound that had been treated by her, after she had saved his life.
And what about that almost-kiss? For a moment he'd been sure she was gonna kiss him, yet he'd done nothing. If she really had kissed him, he wasn't sure he would've had the promptness to stop her. Just…
… what was GOING ON with him?
Zim squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the cold, sweet flavor of the schmoothy.
I'm just tired, he reasoned. What's wrong with taking advantage of this human's naivete anyway? I've just… exploited her willingness to save my life, heal me, and prepare me a schmoothy! Yeah, that's it! It doesn't mean we're colleagues, or friends, or whatever she wants to believe! My intentions are purely egoistic! I'm the one in charge!
Now that he had justified his not-at-all-friendliness, it was time to focus on something else and leave that concept to solidify in the background of his mind: he looked around, seeking something interesting enough to distract him.
He'd never had the occasion to calmly, attentively look at the human's house, but now that he did, he noticed that it was quite weird. He wasn't at all an expert on human homes, but he could still tell this one was very antiquated, even by Earth standards: everything from the walls, to the floor, to the ceiling, to the furniture was made either from wood or marble or stone. He couldn't spot anything made of plastic, which was abundant on the Earth he knew. Even the kitchen tools, hanging on the wall in a neat line next to the sink, were either made from metal or wood. And there were floral motifs everywhere, on the curtains, on the dishrags, on the kitchenware, carved into the wood of the cupboards themselves, adding to the rustic air of the whole place.
Zim looked back at the human: she did say she hated her home planet and her own people. Maybe she was an odd ball among humans? Was that why she had left Earth?
The human nonchalantly threw his tunic into the washing machine, situated right next to the back door, and turned it on. Without missing a beat, she picked a white apron from the nearby wall, wore it, and started working on what he supposed was going to be their dinner, all with quick, precise, and mute concentration. Like she'd surely done a million times before.
Zim almost felt a smidgen of compassion for her. Being an outcast among your own people, forced to live in exile on a planet light years away from your real home, must have been terrible. Just imagining the same fate befalling him gave him the chills.
The same thing will happen to you too if you don't find a solution to the problem, a cold voice inside of him reminded him.
Zim squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a nice, long sip of the schmoothy, trying his hardest to ignore that pesky bad thought.
His arm was numb and sore, but that schmoothy was deliciously sweet and the kitchen pleasantly warm. The human moved quickly and efficiently as she bustled around the kitchen: the tinkling of the pots and pans, the knife cutting through the ingredients and hitting on the chopping board, the boiling water, the burning stoves and the twirling water inside the washing machine, all those sounds fused into a single, confused, amorphous background noise. Not in an annoying way, though. It was almost relaxing. Like a lullaby. He felt like he could've fallen asleep right on that chair if he closed his eyes for too long. Maybe having someone do all the work while he was allowed to rest made it feel extra… restful.
Time passed so quickly for his empty mind that he was caught by surprise when the human started setting the table. He had barely even noticed he'd finished his schmoothy.
Zim blinked up at her as she put a glass and a set of cutlery in front of him. Was she gonna serve his dinner there? He'd never dined at the same table as her.
Something was telling him to leave the kitchen and avoid that at all cost. Yes. Why interact with her more than necessary? He wasn't supposed to be there in the main house in the first place.
And yet… he felt so tired, the basement might as well be wherever the Earth was: very far away, if not completely out of reach. And he felt so hungry, he couldn't wait one extra second to eat his dinner. What could go wrong anyway? It was just dinner!
The human came back with two fuming plates; she set them down, one for her, one for him, and sat on the chair in front of his.
Zim picked up his fork and knife, he leaned eagerly over his plate, and… all his enthusiasm was instantly swept away with one single look.
Her plate contained a vibrant mix of colorful, fragrant minced vegetables, according to her usual cooking style and prowess.
His, on the other hand, was… well, it didn't look at all like something the human had cooked. It looked very much like a standard pre-made meal. Odorless, near-colorless, and probably tasteless too. It reminded him of the food served in his Earth Skool.
"What... is this?" Zim asked her, completely appalled and disappointed.
"Oh, it's a… uhmmm... 'Pekopian steak with mashed potatoes and peas'. At least that's what was written on the package" the human recited with a twirl of her fork, as she munched on her delicious dinner.
Zim stared down at his plate. He could sort of see the mashed potatoes and peas now. Two malformed mushes that were only vaguely distinguishable from each other for their yellow and green hues. As for that 'steak', however, he wasn't sure there was even an ounce of real meat in it...
"… since when do you serve pre-made food?!" he asked her.
"Uhm... since you repeatedly told me that you hate my cooking?" she replied, as if that couldn't have been more obvious. "What, you don't like that either? No offense, but your palate is very hard to please".
Zim looked down, embarrassed. Needlessly complaining about her food had backfired on him in the most spectacular way. Drat.
"...'twasalie" he murmured.
"Hmm? What was that?"
"I said it was a lie!" Zim raised his voice, barely, just as loud as it was necessary for her to hear, "I like your stupid, awful cooking, okay?!"
"So... uhm... you don't really need to... stop making it" he added, more softly and calmly. With the hidden hope that maybe she would have thrown that gross pre-made meal out and made him one of her usual foods instead.
But the human didn't look one bit happy about that compliment. She looked at him for a moment, puzzled. Then her nose wrinkled in an offended expression.
"Uh. So you were lying to spite me..." she took a big forkful of zucchini and peppers and shoved it inside her mouth with a sharp gesture.
"Er-!" Zim yelped, unprepared for that reaction. "No, I-I… I mean..."
"Is there anything else you've lied to me about?" she asked him sarcastically.
"I... eehhhh… I don't think so" Zim guiltily shrunk against his chair.
"Well. You could have come out about it before I bought a bunch of those pre-made meals. It's fine!" she quickly interrupted him as he opened his mouth, "I guess I can add them to the slob for my pigs. That's a relief, I suppose. I really thought I'd lost my special touch with cooking" she spoke with a cold, deadpan expression and voice.
Zim blushed and looked down, feeling completely humiliated. He was absolutely in the wrong, and he knew it. He didn't even have the courage to double down on his lie at this point.
He picked up his fork, scooped up half of his 'pea-mush' and gobbled it down in one gulp.
He had never regretted making up a lie this much.
Zim kept his head and eyes low and picked at his stale, dry food. It was like eating the human's food had changed his taste buds, because until a week before he had eaten nothing but similar food, and he'd found nothing to complain about. The only thing worse than his dinner was that silent, heavy atmosphere lingering between them.
He'd just accepted that the human would be irreparably offended and mute all night, when she unexpectedly spoke up in an inoffensive voice:
"Hey, Zim? Can I ask you a question?" she asked him. She didn't look (much) angry anymore, but curious, rather.
".. go ahead" he allowed. Anything to escape that awkward silence.
"What exactly is your backpack? It's not just a bag, right? When you fell asleep the other night, it started flashing yellow. Why is that?"
Zim reflected on whether or not he should answer a question about his biology. In the end though, he concluded that there would be no harm in it: it wasn't like she'd rat him out to the other humans. Not any time soon, anyway.
"My PAK, as it's called, is my life-support system, as well as my personality and memory storage. It was flashing yellow because it had gone in standby mode. In order to better metabolize the alcohol, I presume"
"So it's like... a sort of back-up brain? Only it's a computer?", she let out a low chuckle, "All this time you've been a cyborg?"
"I suppose... in a way, I am" he agreed, although he wasn't too fond of that term being applied to him.
"Isn't it weird to have, like… two brains at a time?"
"Eh… no? I don't know. I've always been like that..." he replied, unsure on what to add without revealing too many Irken secrets.
Still, conversing was way better than dining in silence, so he went on and asked a question of his own:
"Alright, here's a question for you" he proposed, "Why does your food taste so... unusual?"
"Unusual how?"
"I don't know… different… better… tastier"
"Hmm, I guess it tastes different to you because I make everything from scratch? Most of the food aliens eat is either pre-made or junk food or both. I personally grow most of it. I've got my own garden and animals. And what I can't grow, I trade with my neighbors. We're all farmers around here, you know" she explained.
"Animals? You mean besides the cat?"
"Yeah, I keep goats, cows, pigs, rabbits, chickens... I guess you haven't seen them because you've always been in the basement"
"Ah, yes. The typical Earth food-animals" he nodded. "Do you keep any... moose?"
"Moose? No way, it's too hot here... why would I keep a moose in the first place?" she asked back, seemingly amused.
Zim raised an eyebrow.
"As inferior as they all are, moose are the ultimate Earth creatures. Who wouldn't want one?"
"What? Hehehe!" the human snorted, a hand on her mouth as she giggled. "Well, I do agree, their size is quite impressive"
"Uh... yes it is?" Zim agreed. He wasn't sure what she was laughing about. Alien humor was always so confusing.
"… So, uhm… anyway, how's the Earth doing?" she asked with a bit of hesitation.
Zim's antennae perked up, startled and suspicious.
"W… why do you wanna know?"
"You know. I haven't been there in a long time" she explained.
"Oh! Right!" he sighed in relief. So it was an innocent question. "Uhm… well… dirty and gross, mostly. Very destroyable"
"Heh, I see. So not much different from when I was there" she unexpectedly agreed with him. "How did you infiltrate there exactly?"
"I'm… not supposed to tell you" he hesitated.
"Fair enough" she shrugged.
Zim bit his lip. She'd given up way too easily. He… wasn't sure he was ready to give up on a chance to brag about his Invader abilities. Not now that his chances to brag were so scarce.
"… I had a house-shaped base. And I pretended to be a human child" he explained.
"Ohhh, I see! Clever. Makes sense with your height. Were you on your mission alone or?"
"Heh, of course I was" he chuckled. "Invaders work alone"
"That's impressive. A whole planet to conquer on your own" she nodded. "And what would you do to sell your act? Befriend kids? Play in parks?"
"Well, I went to skool, which was also a pretty good ground to study human behavior on. A brilliant cover if there ever was one" he ever so slightly puffed his chest, feeling his pride swelling a bit.
"Oh, wow. And what did you think of school?"
"Uh...? Oh, you mean skool!"
"That's what I said-"
"Horrible!" Zim hissed, a shiver running down his spine. "I'd never BEEN to such a boring, dirty, HORRIBLE place! The… disgusting schlob they tried to pass as food! The stupid, mind-numbing classes! The scary teachers! And the worst part, the Skoolchildren! So rude, and pushy, a-and... meat-headed!"
"Uh. So nothing much has really changed since I left" she commented with an understanding nod.
"You went to skool too?"
"Yeah. Sadly, you kinda have to when you're human. I did skip quite a lot of classes near the end though. And I never finished it. Whatever. It's just a prison built to brainwash kids into obedient drones for the government and corporations to use".
Zim let out a dramatic gasp.
"So my conclusions WERE correct!" he exclaimed, "I knew something was up with all the flying cameras and government agents!"
"Er… What?" the human did a double take, confused.
"Well, no matter! I survived that place with all my brains intact! They couldn't outsmart me! ZiM!" he shook a triumphant fist in the air.
"It's a miracle you left that place unscathed" the human nodded. "I commend you, fellow school survivor"
"Heh, thanks! So... wait. You are an... insurgent, to Earth? And you escaped to avoid punishment?" he tried to guess.
"Not really. More of an escapee. I'm pretty sure no one from Earth cares where I am. And I like to keep it that way. Why do you ask?"
"Your way of life seems quite... different" he threw a look around her old-fashioned kitchen.
"I live like the humans in the countryside. Maybe you've only lived in the cities'' she explained. "Anyway, what was Gir's role in your mission?"
Zim widened his eyes.
"How do you know Gir's name?!"
"You mentioned him earlier, while you were hurt" she reminded him. "He was your robot minion, right?"
Oh. Right. He had. And he really wished he hadn't. He really wished he didn't have to talk about Gir. Or any of the robots he'd left on Earth, for that matter...
"Y… yeah. He w… IS, my SIR unit" he tried to answer as impassibly as possible.
"SIR?"
"Standard-Issue Information Retrieval units" he recited. "They are the personal robot assistants of us Invaders"
"You guys sure like acronyms. Is Gir a play on that? What does the G stand for?"
"Heh. Who knows. That insane little robot named itself. It was probably something very stupid" he chuckled, remembering with nostalgic fondness the first time Gir had introduced himself. "Not that he wasn't helpful! He was still a prime piece of Irken technology. He gathered information for me! And he cooked! And he used the most ingenious dog disguise to go with my child-cover!"
"Oooh! A dog! What breed?"
"Green"
"Ah"
"He was quite a handful, sometimes. Doing whatever passed in that little head of his… stubborn… but he was still very helpful!" he quickly corrected himself. "And he really tried! Too much, at times!"
The human half-smiled, nodding, as he talked with growing enthusiasm.
"And I had other robots too! Like the Computer at the center of my base! I made his brain myself! And of course, the robot parents, which I used to boost my cover, and later I even built this invincible little purple robot named Min-"
Zim suddenly went quiet.
He didn't know when exactly in that sudden enthusiastic surge it'd happened, but he was currently standing on his chair with a foot planted on the edge of the table and his arms raised up.
The human was staring up at him, with an amused and curious smile on her face, making him even more self-conscious about his current pose. Her enthusiastic interest, he realized, had fueled his own exuberance, and, well… for the first time in his life, he felt like such a passionate outburst was inappropriate. It certainly was in front of that human specifically, who he'd tried so hard to keep as an enemy. And now he was showing himself so happy and… open, in front of her?
"I, uhm… I… shouldn't really be talking about this" he timidly sat back and composed himself.
"It's okay" the human nodded.
"J-just, uh... just know that they're all fine and safe after we conquered the Earth successfully!" he quickly concluded.
"Sure"
"For real!"
"I believe you, Zim" she assured him.
Another awkward pause. They'd talked so much they'd barely eaten half of their respective dinners.
"… hey? Zim? Can I ask one last thing about you?" the human spoke again. Zim's antennae twitched, as if to say: 'Go on'.
"Are kisses forbidden in your culture?" she asked.
Zim blushed. He didn't remember ever feeling embarrassed so many times in such a short span of time.
He dropped his head, and nodded.
"Yeah… all affection is. I-"
He gulped.
"I-I don't… I didn't wanna kiss you. I didn't wanna kiss anybody" he stammered.
"… I would have never done that, if I knew it. I'm sorry" the human replied in a soft, sweet, and genuinely remorseful voice.
Zim let out a big, deep breath. That was actually… comforting, in a way. It didn't erase what had happened between them, but it did reinforce that it had been an accident. A cultural misunderstanding. It absolved both him and the human of most of their respective faults. He had never truly liked her, and she hadn't preyed on him. And now that they agreed on it, he could finally let go of that oppressive anger that had been consuming him in the last few days.
"… okay" he whispered, accepting her apology.
After they finished eating, the human took the used dishes, tableware and glasses and put them in the dish-washer. She tidied up the kitchen, and when the washing machine made a finishing ding sound, she finally took out his wet, clean tunic, and carried it outside to hang.
Meanwhile Zim was racking his brains about one new, difficult question: whether or not he should come clean about his mission and ask her for advice. He wasn't sure how he'd come up with such an idea: it'd popped in his mind shortly after they'd made up. Maybe because this human was the only being who'd been remotely helpful to him in weeks. And she looked genuinely kind and trustworthy. Would that even be harmful? They had made peace! Sure, she was just a human, but it was still worth a shot, right? Who else would be willing to help him anyway?
Zim stubbornly shook his head, disapproving of his own idea.
No! I shouldn't ask for any more help from her! I can't just forget what happened! And she's still a human! I shouldn't even be acting this amicable to her!, he scolded himself. Staying here is a waste of my precious time. I should just take the Voot Cruiser and fly away from wherever I am now!
Suddenly, though, he noticed that she had silently approached him again:
"How's your arm?" she asked.
"Uh?" he asked, taken aback.
"How's your arm doing?" she repeated.
"… it's fine" he mumbled. Instinctively, he gently placed his hand on his bandages: underneath, his scalded arm responded with a muffled sting of pain.
"How did it even happen, anyway?"
"… I was testing the engine, and I got in the way of the propeller" he explained in a guilty voice.
"What were you doing in front of the propeller during an engine test?"
He looked sideways, and stayed silent, with his lips pursed in a thin line. Discussing it out loud made him realize how stupid and careless that had been of him. As in, way more than he thought. All this was completely preventable. If only he'd been more careful. If only he'd had someone to-
"Silly" the human playfully reprimanded him. And then she… petted his head. Zim's body tensed up, and he felt his cheeks burning.
"Next time you need help, just ask me, okay?" she said.
Zim's antennae twitched as her hand patted him between them. He should have slapped her hand away. Told her to stay away from him and not touch him. Spouted some heartfelt insults at her. But that undignified gesture made him feel no anger or disgust at all. If anything, it felt comforting. And sweet. It made him feel all… hot and jiggly inside.
So in the end, his only answer to that was a very meek, very embarrassed:
"Hmmm…", coupled with a nervous swing of his legs.
"So, uhm… do you have any plans for tonight?" the human asked, finally lifting her hand up from his scalp.
Oh, right. What were his plans for the night? Was he really going to take the Cruiser and run away from her planet? He wasn't sure he even had the energies for that… Not for now, at least.
Zim drew a long breath.
"I don't feel like doing anything" he responded with sincerity. He jumped off his seat and headed to the living room. "I'll just stay in the laboratory"
"And do what? Are you going to repair the ship?" the human asked as she followed him.
"No, I think I will… grow moss maybe. Or mold. Or a colony of insects. On my body" he said pointing to his torso. He was about to open the secret passage behind the pendulum clock, when the human blocked his way with a swift swoop.
"Nuh-uh" she shook her head. "You need some rest. Some real rest. You'll stay here in the living room"
"But-"
"You can watch a movie. Or read a book! Make yourself at home!"
"But I-"
"But no basement for you! It would only make you even more depressed!"
"I'm not depressed…" Zim mumbled with a defeated tone. He felt absolutely no energy to argue with the human for the time being: he was going to sneak back into the laboratory and plan his escape in a couple hours, when the humans had finally fallen asleep.
She walked past him and lit up the small fireplace in the center-right of the room.
"You can come and dry your shirt here" she said.
Zim blinked at her. Its damp fabric clung uncomfortably to his skin, and yet he'd forgotten he was still wearing a wet shirt.
He stepped forth and awkwardly sat down in front of the fire, resting on the soft, floral-patterned (of course) carpet. The fire was pleasantly warm. It almost made him forget he'd narrowly escaped being burnt alive a little over an hour prior.
The human briefly went upstairs and came down with a laptop; she sat down on the sofa and soon the quick, mechanical clicks of a keyboard filled the room.
Zim eyed her with envy. He really wished he had a computer of his own to entertain himself with. It made him wish he'd really gone and returned to the machines-filled laboratory.
The human seemingly noticed his bored expression after a short while: she turned her face up from the screen, and asked him:
"Do you wanna see a movie?", again.
"Uh...? Uh… no. No, thanks…" he didn't really want to do anything producing that much sound while the human was in the same room as him. He didn't want to attract her attention more than necessary.
"At least read a book. Go on. They won't bite you, you know?" she encouraged him.
There was a big bookcase right next to the pendulum clock that hid the secret passage to the underground lab, covering the whole wall up to the ceiling: it must have held at least a hundred books.
Zim stood up and walked to the other side of the room. The human clearly wanted him to do something, and wouldn't leave him alone until he did. There should be something there interesting enough to keep him occupied, right?
The bookcase was entirely made of solid wood. Again, no trace of plastic: the books' covers were either made of leather or paper. Most of them looked ancient. It was a giant fire hazard, if you asked him. Especially with that fireplace burning in that same room.
Still, he swallowed his critiques and scoped the shelves closest to him for the most tolerable read possible. Judging by the titles, the ones immediately in front of him seemed all to be either fiction or poetry. A couple of them notably had the word 'love' on their cover: nope. Definitely not for him.
One title among them caught his attention: Metamorphoses. Curious, Zim picked the thick, old book out of its shelf. It had weird, evocative sketches as its cover image. He opened it, and-
Naked woman. Naked woman on the first page. THERE WAS A NAKED HUMAN WOMAN DRAWN ON THE FIRST PAGE WITH ALL HER PUDENDA OUT-
Zim slammed the indecent book shut and shoved it back in its cursed place. Cheeks burning, he turned to check if the (thankfully fully-clothed) human woman in the room had somehow noticed the scene: she was still looking down, all focused on her laptop.
Zim cussed under his breath and hustled to the far left shelf: clearly he was looking at the wrong section. The human had organized the shelves per genre, and this one seemed to be dedicated to science instead. He only wished he'd picked it first and saved himself that impudent sight.
He picked the first book about space he saw and scuttled back to the other side of the room with his head low. He sat on the sofa as far away from the human as possible and buried his face and mind into the book.
The book was overly simplistic, if not outright wrong in its description of the Earth's tiny galaxy (it didn't even mention the Martians, or that Mars was a giant spaceship), but at least it was inoffensive; soon its scientific, unfeeling writing style managed to distract him from his confusing thoughts and feelings at present.
The thought of opening to the human about his mission still lingered in the back of his head, but he dared not speak it: he felt much better like this, when he wasn't speaking to her. And again, the book helped a lot in that sense.
All was quiet and calm and uneventful for a while. The human worked at her laptop, and he had already read the chapters about Venus and Jupiter in their entirety. Maybe this wouldn't be all for naught: after all, he needed to know the galaxy of the planet he was trying to conquer, right?
But then, something moved inside the house, its soft, weird footsteps hitting the floor to Zim's left. He looked up and saw the human's cat, trotting through the small entrance hall and into the living room. As soon as it noticed him, it abruptly halted its stroll and fixed its big, curious green eyes on him.
Oh, no… Zim mentally lamented. He already knew what was about to happen.
The cat trotted towards him even faster than before, his ridiculous butt and tail swinging left and right excitedly. It jumped on the sofa and stretched his sniffing nose dangerously close to him.
"Er… no… shoosh!" Zim weakly waved his hand at it. Normally he would have kicked an intrusive animal away without a second thought, but he didn't want to find himself on the human's bad side again, not now that he felt so weak.
"No, sweetie, no" the human mercifully intervened: she closed one arm around the cat, and pulled it away from him. "Don't bother him".
The cat gave a disgruntled "Mwrap". It struggled a couple times, trying to wriggle out of her grip. When it became apparent that the human wouldn't let it have its way, it settled down and curled against her, throwing an occasional longing, but impotent look in his direction.
Zim let out a breath of relief. Good. Earthlings on one side, him on the other. That's how he liked it. He picked his boring, incorrect book back up and kept reading.
He didn't really pay attention to the passage of time, but quite a lot of it passed. At least a couple hours. The cat had fallen asleep on its master's thigh. He himself was starting to doze off as he approached the last few pages of his read.
"I'm done" the human eventually announced as she closed her laptop. "I'm going to bed. I gotta wake up early tomorrow".
Zim looked at her. What did that mean for him? Was he finally allowed to go back to the laboratory? Not that the human could stop him once she fell asleep, but…
"Do you really never sleep, Zim?" she asked him, seeming somewhat concerned.
"No" he shook his head. Unless absolutely necessary, at least.
The human bit her lip, thoughtful.
"Maybe that's the problem. You need a break from reality. Sleeping would help you put things into perspective"
"Sleep isn't going to help me" he flatly rebutted.
"As if staying in a dark, musty, gloomy basement is gonna do you any better. Either way, you're not gonna lock yourself in there in that state" she stated in a blunt tone.
"What 'state'?!" he hissed, irritated. Especially because he hated how obvious his unwellness must be.
The human walked up to the dresser on the left side of the room, as though he'd never said anything at all on the matter. She drew out a couple of folded blankets and a pillow, and placed them next to him on the sofa.
"Just think about it, okay?" she continued, more softly this time. "You're wounded, after all. You need genuine rest. Lie down for a while, at least".
Zim looked at the pillow and blankets, conflicted.
Thinking about it logically… maybe … staying in the living room for a while would have been better than in the laboratory. Not because the human had said it, of course! The living room was better ventilated and better heated! Slugging on a sofa would have been at least slightly more comfortable than slugging in a cold hard corner: it was a scientific fact! And then, once the human believed that he was asleep, he could have sneaked out safely without her noticing! Yes, it was the perfect plan!
"Alright, human" he conceded,
But the human still looked concerned. She sat real close to him, a little TOO close to him, in fact: their sides were almost touching.
"Are you sure you don't want me to keep you company for a while more?" she asked him. "Do you need..."
"NO!" Zim snapped, pressing himself against the armrest and away from her. "No, I'm fine! I'll be fine! Just, eh… Just gonna… get a good night's sleep, and I'll be all good!"
The human kept looking at him with a worried expression. He wasn't used to this kind of concern towards his well-being: all in one day, that human had saved his life, medicated his arm and, admittedly, lifted up his spirits a little bit. This was all so annoyingly overwhelming!… though not exactly in a bad way.
But that's the problem, right?, he thought to himself. Humans are the enemy! They aren't supposed to be… 'pleasant'! Just tell this human off once and for all! This might be your last chance to draw the line with her!
"Human, your concern is… ehm..." he scrambled for words. He wanted to pick the rudest word he knew to conclude the sentence. But as he looked into her pretty, compassionate eyes, it was like his mouth physically refused to speak it. In the end, it somehow decided, seemingly on its own, that the appropriate word to utter was: "… appreciated".
W… What did I just say?!
"B-but I don't need any of it! I can take care of myself!" he quickly tried to correct himself. "A-and, uhm..."
Take it all back! Now!
"And your assistance today has been very… uhm..." he anxiously fiddled with his hands. When he breathed out, his mouth refused again to speak the correct word: "... helpful".
Insult her! INSULT HER NOW, QUICK!
"… insult, uh- Yes! My, INSULTS, were, uh- uhm-" he looked at her, and her big, lovely eyes stared back at him with a look just as confused as his.
He felt another one of those weird churns in his belly. He swallowed hard. Then, he regretfully concluded:
"… undeserved".
WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU SELF-TRAITOROUS-
The human looked nothing short of shocked.
"What are you trying to say, Zim?" she cautiously asked.
"I'm… I'm… I'm, uh… I'm sorry".
The human stared at him, with her mouth unashamedly open in the most surprised expression possible.
Zim's body was shivering: it was like he wasn't at all in control of his movements AND speech. It was almost scary. Soon enough, his mouth opened on its own again, sealing his fate:
"I'm sorry about how I treated you. And… thank you for your help today" it summed up everything that it had without his permission said so far.
"… oh. Wow" the human murmured. "I-I, mean, thank you! Thank you, Zim. I really appreciate it" she quickly corrected herself and smiled at him.
Zim smiled back at her and nodded. Inside, his inner voice was screaming in pure agony.
"If you need anything just tell me, okay? I'll be upstairs, in my room" she affectionately patted his shoulder. "Good night".
And with that, she picked up her laptop and her cat with each hand and carried them upstairs.
Zim's eyes followed her up until the moment she disappeared in the upper floor; and after that, they kept staring at the last point they'd seen her at for who knows how much time.
When he regained his motor and mental capabilities, he noticed that he'd been doing so with a stupidly open mouth.
He looked around him: outside was dark, save for the faint lights of the stars above. He heard the human moving for a while, on the floor above him. Then, nothing: the entire planet became completely quiet. The light in the living room was probably the only one lit up in the entire house now.
What was he gonna do? Should he try and leave now? But he felt absolutely exhausted. His tired body begged him to stay on that comfortable sofa, in that cozy, warm room.
He sighed, dejected and unable to combat his own tiredness.
Just a couple minutes. Maybe half an hour. Alright, I'll lie down for ONE hour. And then I'll load the Cruiser inside her ship and fly off. Sound plan, right?
But the bright, yellow light of the ceiling lamp was bothersome to his tired eyes. So he turned it off, enabled the sleeping option in his PAK, and lay down. But then, he realized that lying down without a pillow was quite uncomfortable. So he picked up the pillow she left for him and set it under his head. But then, he also realized that the air had gotten quite chill now that the small fire in the fireplace had gone out. So he picked the blankets at the other end of the sofa and laid them above his body.
This all felt so awkward and wrong. He'd slept before, of course, but he'd never done it like a human. Except that time the human had 'put him to bed', now that I thought about it...
The thought of that human was enough to send a shiver down his spine. He rolled over onto his right side, looking for a more comfortable position.
He stared for a few moments, his eyes wide open amidst the darkness. His own emotions at the moment were undecipherable to him. Comfortable, uncomfortable? Sad, happy? Angry, calm? Ashamed, content?
Tired. There was only room for tiredness in his mind. All he wanted right now was to just rest from it all.
His heavy eyelids closed on him, sealing him in an even thicker darkness.
Soon he'd completely forgotten about his plans to sneak out of the house and steal the ships for himself. Those thoughts were instead supplanted by the intrusive thoughts that usually plagued him whenever his brain became too relaxed or too weak to fight them off. Only this time, he was incapable of scolding himself: everything was so ethereal and inconsequential in that place between reality and dream. Those thoughts didn't seem that shameful or dangerous now, but rather welcoming, and disarmingly pleasant.
Soon, he began fantasizing about that night again. Those memories came to him fused and confused with the events from that evening. The human smiled at him… she lovingly tended to his wounded arm… she caressed him… she petted his head… she kissed him...
His fantasy became even more concrete.
An arm gently closed around him, pulling him to another body. He turned around and two hands cupped his cheeks. Soft lips closed around his as one hand felt his body, running up and down his exposed side.
At one moment he realized that he wasn't completely sure the person beside him was even clothed. How could he tell, when everything around him was so dark? He wondered then, if there had been enough light for him to see, whether she would have looked anything like that drawing in that Metamorphoses book…
He curled against the couch's seat as a jolt of electricity passed through his clenched body.
Even so, even without any space to possibly accommodate another person, the human somehow managed to hug him tighter, to kiss him deeper. Her tongue made its way in his mouth, it flickered on the skin of his neck-
Zim let out a muffled whimper and buried his face into the pillow.
The more he descended into the numbness of sleep, the more incoherent his thoughts became. The darkness and the quiet had completely engulfed him, like he'd become a part of them. Soon, he slipped so far into unconsciousness that he couldn't even fantasize about the human.
He had fallen asleep.