Chapter 9: " It's Personal "

" You got into another fight?" Dib's father almost yelled. Dib only kept his eyes against the platform of the table, to keep from guessing the type of expression his father had in his face, hidden behind his glasses. In turn, his father sighed and placed his palm against his brow, obviously disappointed and frustrated at his son's inability to learn anything that he was trying to teach him for these past years.

" It was a food fight." he said lowly.

" Oh...Oh, okay—yeah, that's relieving. Dib." He said, the tone of his voice like mordancy to Dib's ears. " Dib, what happened all of a sudden that brought you back to...hating Zim and having all of these pointless fights with him? What did he do to you that makes you hate him so much?"

" There's more than just one way to reply to that, Dad." He muttered, scratching at the table, trying to evade any lineal eye contact or conversation. These little meetings were becoming so frequent that it was now embarrassing to have, and it made the outlook of intended disobedience assumed. His father stared at him for a few moments and sighed, placing his hands away from concealing his face.

" Dib. I can't help you if you won't let me. If you won't tell me what it is you hate so much about that kid, then there is no determinable way that I can help you solve those problems, a-a-and for you to see that there is not point to this useless feud. I just can't." He said, shaking his head. Dib's lips thinned

" It's the reason why you think I need help in the first place is where your wrong." He knew better than to reply in such an impertinent fashion, however it never failed to anger him that people that he had mental or sociological impediments that made him act like the way he does. It was the problem with the people, was what made him seem so seemingly insane. It wasn't his fault that they closed their eyes to any logic.

He kept his eyes down, as he felt his father's glare searching his face.

" Dib. If you can't manage to bring up your own behavior, and be mature enough to face your own problems—"

" Why am I getting in trouble?" Dib asked, finally looking up to his father's cold eyes, hidden behind the shiny lenses of his glasses. " When Zim was the one that started this? He's always the one that starts this and whenever I counter, I get in trouble, and Zim get's off easy. What, am I not supposed to fend for myself?" He asked rhetorically, but ridden with asperity.

" Are you there when he get's scolded by his parents at his own house? If you answer no, then you can't say that he never get's in trouble."

" Zim doesn't even have parents to begin with!"

" And you would know this? Why would you know so much about this kid when you hate him so much?"

" Because he's trying to kill us!"

" Are you sure that this..." His father paused, and pointed at Dib, gesturing to the emotion and reasoning he just expressed. "...isn't the cause of your behavior? Irrational reasoning and impulsive emotions that make you think Zim is hunting us down?

" He's trying to destroy the planet, Dad! Not just us!"

" And why do you say that?"

" He's an alien! He came from another planet to take our lives away! It's his mission! I've seen his base! I've seen him without his disguise!" Dib confided. However after a few moments, realizing his act of yelling at his father, shifted in his seat and closed in his arms closer, a bit of a retreat. His father only stared at him for the longest moments. Unmoving, however he could feel that he took this as immature manners, and categorized it as trivial to all of his reasonings.

"...Who else has seen it? Other than you?" He asked, solemnly. This caused a spur of emotional reactions, as Dib fought the urge to respond to it, as well as the assault it did to his feelings and pride. Dib's lips trembled, and held down the gathered, heated words. He knew if he released his unsettled emotions, it would betray his dignity. He felt his anger seethe through his body, and Dib grabbed the edges of his chair with a tight grip. His eyes felt on the verge of watering. He was tired of being mocked. Tired of looked upon as a freak because he saw the truth. His own family even belittled his ideas. Dib felt that there was no one he could trust anymore. Not even his father, for it would only profit him more scorn and humiliation, like receiving that every day of his life for being who he was at school wasn't enough already. His vision blurred over the water that filled his eyes, and turned his face away, hot blood flushing his face red.

" I have." Gaz called out. The sound of his father's clothes rustling hinted that he turned around in his chair to look back at the kitchen entrance. Dib did the same, as his heart stopped a few pulses. Gaz stood there, her hands gathered together. Her expression was unreadable, however it failed to hold back her aura of nervousness.

" What do you mean?" Their father said.

" I've seen his base..." She said, quickly. Their father sat there for a while before he scoffed lightly.

" I have." She confirmed, not entirely with confidence. " It...I never...gave it much thought...it never concerned me about his wants and his intentions of taking over the world...It just...I don't know..." She said. "...It was a while ago, and I do believe Dib is right...for a reason now I feel that I should be concerned...but I've seen Zim without his disguise, I've been inside his house and underground base..." Gaz temporarily stopped to remember that she so idiotically danced with Zim's little robot to save the earth. Some way of contribution. She thought momentarily with sarcasm and removed it from mind as she continued.

" After I saw his blue prints, I guess I finally realized that—"

" Are you doing this to stand up for your brother?" He asked, with a sigh. He was settled now against the position of facing her, and he reposition his glasses. What he didn't know was that remark was another blow to his son. Gaz shook her head.

" No, honest. I saw it with him. I helped Dib on one of his...I don't know, investigations." She said, rubbing her hands together, noticing all of the horribly composed words and terms of explanation. Gaz took a deep breath and tried to relieve some of the growing anxiety. " Dib isn't lying." she confined.

Though their father gave it light consideration. After a while of one of his cold silences, he sighed, got up from the table and left the kitchen. She watched him exit and remained standing at her place, contemplating. Their father was a very incorrigible man. He didn't listen to anything without his definition of reason and logic. If he didn't experience whatever situation firsthand, or if it didn't have the required amount of evidence or authenticity that appealed to his integrity, then it didn't deserve anymore attention than that of a fallen leaf. Concerning this situation included his children, he only gave the amount of consideration it needed in his terms, and nothing more. It was one of the things she couldn't like about her father. A man of 'honesty' that knew nothing more than his own standards. Gaz exchanged looks with her older brother and she could see the redness of his eyes.

Gaz never understood exactly the type of manner that was the response to Dib's lifestyle until now. His aspirations and his curiosities to extraterrestrial life forms earned him nothing but degrading insults and mortification. Dib covered his head with his black sleeved arms and placed his head against the table. This act caused a twinge in her own emotions, and she turned around to give him his deserved privacy. Gaz entered the living room again and reclined back onto the cushions of the couch. She reached for her sketchpad and continued drawing.

However, she knew that this wasn't a viable distraction to the emotion she held. One she wouldn't admit to, for it would betray her own pride, but one she acknowledged as it was the first time she actually felt anything towards her brother. And it was something that made her wonder why she didn't feel anything in the past in the first place. Thoughts came back to the conclusion she'd made a few days earlier and as she remembered it, soon removed it from mind. She denied it was true and continued drawing.

• • •

Next day

Zim woke up, and as his nerves began sending recognition to his brain, he felt soreness upon the way he had slept last night. He groaned and lifted himself weakly against the surface of his research table. He'd been sitting against the already uncomfortable surface of his chairs, and he'd fallen asleep, with his back arched and head turned as he rested against his table. It kept the muscles in his neck in constant constriction and contract for him to lie so upon his table, and it rewarded him with soreness.

" Dammit." The word escaped, being the earliest he'd ever orally cursed before. In the day before, after he'd lied upon the floor before his invention, and remained in thought, he walked around his underground base for a few hours with groundless inclination to finding Gir, which could be hiding in the maze that was of his entire basement. When finding no results—expected but not preferred—he returned to his research lab, seeing they were the only ones with tables. Albeit they were meant for experimentation and built in design for easier maneuverability in said circumstances; they weren't comfortable in the least. Along with the stools he used, in combination, they weren't great substitutes for relaxation products.

As he used his body to lift himself from the surface of the table, pain spread through his body and caused involuntary spasms in areas of the past inflicted. He set himself upon his feet and wanted to oblige his taut muscles to a stretch that would usually restore a sense of flexibility to his tired body, though would only result in bolts of agony. Zim blinked and momentarily lived the moment of confusion of the unfamiliarity of his surroundings. Soon his mind processed and he remembered that he was about to activate his weapon from last night, and caused the areas to transform and shape itself accordingly to the shape of his largely-constructed ordnance.

He looked upon it's readied state, and the small touch pad that still patiently awaited for further command of activating the built in assault signals. He sighed at this and tapped against the surface, and disengaged the construct. For that was all it was. A prototype of generated ideas that had fruitfulness before it's creation. It was moronic to try and execute an attack when the product of usage wasn't even completed. Zim shook his head, and soon made his way back out of his research labs. He shivered a few times as the cold, still atmosphere caused stiffness in his motility, and wondered how he was even able to remain dormant in such a place. He ordered his computer for a transportation lift, and approached the middle of the room.

As he ascended back to the surface through the pink glass tube, his mind wandered to places intangible to the physical world, and remained in the imaginings of his mind. It even took him more than a few seconds to realize that he was at the kitchen when his eyes took identification to the vision they produced. He mounted off the toilet seat and invert arched his back, and his spine popped considerably at a few areas, though it stretched pain in his sore and recovering shoulder blade.

" Sir." The computer stood to attention. Zim ignored this as he sought the comfort of the couch, his eyes watching with an almost craving for it's welcoming stature and for any consumer's pleasure. He lied upon the delicate cushion fabric, as it adjusted to his features, reaching in the curve of his back. He sighed, after being prolonged exposed to the cold, hard steel floors of his underground laboratories, it was relieving to relish in the euphoria of homely furniture. It didn't ease the pain, however it did help with providing his senses with warmth and cushiony goodness. He closed his eyes and he was absolutely prepared for another nap, setting his head against the sturdy, yet soft armrest. The couch itself wasn't as comfy as his details exaggerated so, however anything in comparison was softer than a slap of cold steel to sleep on.

" Are you feeling alright sir?" The computer asked, with extended enunciation to the beginning two words, slightly weirded out by the awkward response to the couch. Zim considered the thought of ignoring his attempts at conversation so that he would be able to rest in peace. It was tantalizing, however he figured he would respond in disinterest as an alternative.

" Nothing to worry about." He said, shifting, his voice still gone.

"...Is there anything that troubles you?" He asked. Zim eased his breathing, and considered his question. After wards, he remembered the start to all of his anger from the day before, and glanced back at the front of his house. The windows, in his exemplified surprise, were clear and repaired. The broken glass that was in shatters wasn't even in sight, and no traceable sign of breakage was noticed. It made his day feel just a tiny brighter, adding on to the effect of his wonderful couch. He settled his head back against the armrest, with a considerable grin. Flat, and rather weak, however distinguishable with delight of the small things.

" No..." He answered confidently, raspy. There was a pause, which in all honesty Zim basked in the silence, and kept the connection between the two severed before the Computer brought up another subject.

" Did you at all meet with your test subjects?" He asked, halfhearted in the expression that he would already know the answer. Zim only took mild offense to that, not wanting to completely spoil the euphoria he firsthand experienced and shifted again. He didn't want to answer that question, knowing that if he answered in a way that wasn't expected of his highly-set-morals computer, he would receive a backlash of calm reasoning of why his decision wasn't plausible, why he should reconsider, and all of the other bull that his computer tried to feed him.

" No, I haven't." Zim said flatly, as well as he could. Another paused erupted, and this time it wasn't nearly as pleasurable as the last one, with the presence of the tensed aura between the two. The engines reared again, and Zim sighed as he readied for the upcoming assault of placid and gentle chastisement.

"..Sir, I recommend that you reconsider." Yep. Here we go again.

" I don't see why those humans should serve as any importance to me, and I question why it does to you, Computer." Zim replied nonchalantly, however challenging.

" With all due respect, it does so because I care about the welfare—"

" Of my enemies. Of the planet and it's race that was destined to be destroyed when I arrived. Oh but I don't mind—Fraternizing with the enemy isn't a serious offense." Zim countered. It didn't hurt to talk, however it failed for a convincing tone for his raspy voice.

"...I understand that it was your mission to annihilate this race, and I know that you wish to fulfill this task set by the Almighty Tallest. However given my set of protocols that had been greatly compromised by the adaptation of my emotions, It grows harder for me to watch a people suffer as I continue to inhabit their world." Zim's brow twitched as he mentioned the Tallest.

" So you're saying you want me to discontinue my mission because you're knees are starting to buckle? I'm sorry, Computer, but you are in no place of authority to decide what I do and won't do."

" I did not assume any place of governing opinion or rule over anyone, I am here as a guide to give suggestions and to aid in your mission with investigations—"

" In that of which you haven't shown any resourceful skill for your aid in my mission." Zim hissed. The computer paused at the blow and his systems activated, and engines sounded. He released an airy sigh before he continued on.

"...Claim howsoever of my value that may please you, Sir, but I simply advise that you release those test subjects."

" Why? Why in the world would I ever do that?" He asked, genuinely confused and annoyed. " Why must you ask me these questions? Why in the world do you think that I would ever do anything to relent from these creatures? You see what they do to me." He said, standing up in a jolt and gesturing to his body.

" You see what they did to you, and yet you ask that I forgive them? A-As if they deserve to be forgiven?"

" If you feel vindication towards them, I would suggest that you would allow it to pass through time. However I will say that you will towards it to those who mistreat you, not to unsuspecting children you see viable for your experiments." The Computer stated.

" They are of the same species! It doesn't matter who I pick for my experiments, either way I'm going to kill them! That's why I'm here! To kill all of these people!"

"...Not anymore."

Zim's heart paused for a moment and he stuttered to say anything. However he quickly overgrew in the situation and glowered.

" What is that supposed to mean?" he said, taking it in as a threat and not what the small voice in the corner of his mind was suggesting it to be.

"...You said so yourself, Invader Zim...I monitor what happens around the house, and inside...If I didn't, I wouldn't transport you from the underground and surface levels of your base...I wouldn't take care of your experiments when you're busy..." He said, lowly. "...I...I know what happened on that day. I saw the event take place."

Zim's eyes widened and he remained as a statue for a considerable amount of time. His eyes searched almost for reasoning, or explanation, over the face of the television. His insides ran rampant with emotions, however he managed to only reveal this with the small amount of trembling in his fingers. He sat down slowly and his watched the floor, pensively. He'd said that event. Zim momentarily thought that the Computer knew he wouldn't like it to be addressed any other way.

"...I thought you would appreciate knowing you were the only one who knew about it." He said. For a reason, there were times where the Computer would try and use words that accentuated his vocabulary, and other times he casually spoke. Zim noted this however removed it from mind the second later. He reclined against the couch, with his head resting once again at the armrest, and his eyes staring at the ceiling. He remained like this, until he turned over on his side, facing the couch.

For a reason, it never occurred to Zim that his computer would've known about what had happened. It never came to thought that he would've even have heard or seen it. He was too shrouded by blinding emotions and occupied trying to accept the situation himself, for him to realize that he was still in the presence of his subordinates. Rather less, his companions in this ugly world. Now that he knew about it, he remembered all of the details about what happened that day. All the ones said to him, and his reaction after wards. It was more than just embarrassing to know that he didn't suffer that moment alone. It was dishonorable, having shown his weakness and revealing himself in a manner so shamefully low.

"...It isn't a bad thing, Sir...that much I can assure you." His computer remarked.

"...Meaning...?" Zim asked, discouraged.

" It's not bad the way you reacted, if that is why you're upset."

Zim further ignored his words, knowing that his computer wouldn't know anything pertaining to the ethics and standards of an Irken. Even more so, an Invader. He temporarily wished that he could go back in time in order to prevent that occurrence from happening. Smack himself across the cheek before he would allow his idiotic emotions from taking hold of him.

" Oh...sir, it's currently 7:30." The computer reminded. Zim at first took no heed to the information, and remained lying upon the couch. However, after the few seconds that took the time for him to remember it was a school day, a cold jolt shot up his spine.

" Oh, Computer! It's Tuesday!" He exclaimed, partially to himself. Zim shot up from the couch and retrieved his wig and eye contacts. He entered the kitchen and grabbed his mirror, as he frantically placed his hair on and carefully applied the flimsy films of plastic upon his eyes.

" I need you to call me in late. I don't want to deal with detention again because of their unreasonably reinforced rules of conduct." Zim said, making a hurried scrutiny of his details. As he placed the mirror back down, he considerably bolted out of the kitchen before he stopped at the door, mentally and physically.

" Oh, and don't forget your umbrella! It's going to rain again today." The computer shouted. Zim wasn't paying attention.

In no form or fashion, had he made himself look so eager or urgent to abide by the school rules. And in no way for or fashion did he like attending there. He raged in that moment how manipulative he'd become over the past few weeks, and smacked himself in the forehead at how embarrassing it was to express such foolish qualms. To avert such tendencies from happening again, he would walk to school. Not in a hurry. Not urgent at all.

" Is something wrong?" The computer asked, slightly concerned.

"...Everything." Zim answered with a groan, before opening the door to the closet, retrieving the item and exited the house.