Chapter 9:

Acceptance Comes in Stages

[Gaz]

"I'm surprised you didn't malfunction." I shove half a Poptart in my mouth and watch GIR emerge from under the coffee table and crawl sadly to the kitchen counter, where he barely manages to climb the bar stool before slumping against the granite with a robotic moan.

"Explodey corn…mean to me." He looks up with big, sad eyes - the expression lasts for .2 seconds as his attention zaps to the Poptart in my hand. "Is that more corn?"

I glare at him. "You're just as dumb as Zim." I toss him the remaining half and he snatches it from the air, scarfing it down without hesitation. His eyes glow brighter and he searches the countertop for crumbs to lick. Halfway through the endeavor, he blinks hard and snaps his gaze toward the stairs.

"Master!" he whines. "Oooh, I forgot. Mary needs breakfast." He looks back at me and points at a surviving crumb. "Scary lady, do you have more corn squares?"

I arch a brow. Why is he concerned about Dib specifically?

"Sure thing, little dude." He smiles at the nickname and I grab another pack from the pantry, unwrapping the foil and sliding the food across the counter. He kicks his feet enthusiastically and pops the lid to his head open. He reaches in and pulls out a pudgy red bag. I watch him tear the edge of the seal with his mouth and begin to squeeze the contents over the Poptarts, crinkling the plastic as he goes. The liquid spatters onto the frosting and my eyes widen.

Blood. It's…blood.

Zim's words circle in my skull: I tried to get him to have some before he went to sleep, and he argued like an insolent child…

"Do you have more of those bags?" I ask. He blinks up at me, folding the plastic in his hands.

"Uh-huh! Master gave them to me - I'm the safest keeper." He taps his metal head and grins.

I cross my arms and stare him down. "Give them to me."

He frowns and pauses, eyes flitting between me, the Poptarts, and the stairs.

"Um," he stammers, overwhelmed. "Master said–"

"Dib isn't taking the medicine - he doesn't like it." I reach my hand out. "I'm going to keep it for now, until Zim can make…better medicine."

GIR's eyes waiver and he looks down sadly at his gorey creation. "M-Mary doesn't like the special ketchup?"

Oh god, he's sniffling.

I refrain from making a rude face. "Nope."

His mouth stretches in an exaggerated warble. "It makes him saaaaad?"

"Yup."

"Aw." He sniffs and wipes the nonexistent tears from his face, smearing blood in the process. "Okay, miss lady…"

He composes himself in a similarly dramatic fashion, heavy sigh included, and pulls another two bags from his head. He closes the lid and solemnly pushes the bags and the murdered Poptarts across the counter. I grab the pouches and leave the soggy breakfast. I'm sure Dib will want it later.

"Thanks, little dude." His mouth quivers a little bit and I groan inwardly. "You're, uh…very helpful."

That seems to cheer him up enough to stop almost melting from his eyeballs. I head for the stairs and pause at the second step, glancing over my shoulder.

"The monkey cartoon is on Channel 43."

He squeals in a pitch that's sure to cause hearing loss. I turn away as he rocket-launches from the barstool to the couch in a manic flurry.

"Just don't eat the remote!"

[Dib]

When I wake up, I'm shirtless for some reason. And also Zim is there.

AND ALSO ZIM IS THERE.

I sit up and yank the blanket off his body. His eyes snap open, filled with initial panic that melts into a mixture of shame and rage.

"Hey!" he hisses, wrapping his arms around his shoulders defensively.

" Why are you IN MY BED, ZIM ?!"

I don't give him time to explain - I crank my knee to my chest and kick him off the mattress. He yelps and tumbles to the floor with a string of (I assume) Irken swears.

My heart slaps against my ribs. A deep ache hums in my bones like I've been hit by a bus and scraped off the asphalt. I scan the room frantically, mind racing for an explanation that doesn't exist, searching through memories that aren't there.

I dig my knuckles into my forehead and groan. I'm so sick of not remembering things.

Zim pulls himself off the floor and straightens his shirt with a sour expression as if I've somehow managed to inconvenience him. "That was very rude, Dib ," he spits. "And don't say this is part of the normal sleep festivities, because Zim Googled it last night and there was no kicking to be found!"

I rub my eyes until I see spots. My gums burn. " Where is my shirt , Zim?"

He waves his arms over his head and shouts. "How should I know? This isn't my house."

I glare at him.

He glares back.

Something in me snaps.

I jump off the bed and throw myself at him before he can scramble from the room. Our bodies collide and become a tangle of limbs rolling across the carpet. He claws my arm, I elbow him in the gut, and then my hands latch onto his scrawny wrists and pin him to the floor with a solid thump.

My chest heaves, sweat sticking the hair to my forehead. "Why are you in my room?" I snarl.

He blinks up at me and curls his lip with disdain as he tries to wriggle free. "It wasn't MY idea," he growls. "Your pig-sister said–"

"Gaz?" I tighten my grip. "You…you were both in here?"

"Yes, as I said." He rolls his eyes. "She did not inform Zim that she would leave, however."

My stomach turns sharply; the fear is a cold foam in my blood. If this were any other situation, I'd be more concerned about how many dicks she may have drawn on my face with a Sharpie, but this isn't any other situation. A couple of days ago, I ate someone and barely remembered it. What could have possibly happened for Gaz to willingly stay in my room with me? With Zim ?

"What…" I clear my throat and swallow hard, afraid of the answer. "What happened last night?"

Zim doesn't get a chance to respond. The bedroom door swings open so hard that the knob dents the wall.

"Hey, Dib." Gaz darkens the doorway, one hand on her hip, the other clenching a wad of something I can't make out because she's chucking it at my face-

Thwap!

The combination of blunt force and shock is enough to knock me over, and Zim clumsily scoots away.

"Gaz!" A sting runs across my nose. I sit up and the bundle falls to my lap. "What the fuck was that…for…" My eyes widen. It's my shirt - and tucked in the folds is a bag of blood.

The air freezes. My gaze glitches from her bored expression to the plastic pouch in my lap to Zim's blank red eyes as he watches me struggle to find the right words - or any words, really.

Heat creeps up my face; steam boiling over. I shoot him a glare, incredulous. "You told her? You–"

"He didn't tell me anything, dumbass," she snaps, scowling. "You're just bad at hiding shit. Now stop being a bitch and drink the goddamn blood, Dib." She crosses her arms, her voice soaked in venom. "If you cost me another night of sleep, I'll wring your neck."

I don't respond. I can't breathe. She growls and slams her fist into the door to emphasize her point, and I flinch. " Got it? "

I nod reflexively. My chest feels hollow as I muster the strength to ask the obvious. "...I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Her dismissive scoff is a comfort. "No, you dork."

Thank fucking god.

"But…" I blink down at the bundle of cloth. "Why did you have my shirt?"

"You made a mess," she grumbles, folding her arms. "I had to wash it." Her brow furrows and she glances at Zim. They exchange stares for a concerningly long moment. Zim clears his throat and stands to his feet, quickly regaining his composure.

"I, eh, threw away the pizza you refused. We found you digging through the garbage trying to eat it." His tone grows more offended with each word. "You were filthy."

I glance between them, frowning. "I…don't remember that. At all."

Gaz snorts. "It was pretty funny. You should've been there."

"It was one of your more pathetic moments, for sure." Zim sighs in exasperation. "You left Zim no choice but to inform your sibling of your nonsense."

Well, that's better than the alternative, I guess.

I struggle to find a good response, but there isn't one much better than the distant "I'm sorry" that leaves my lips.

"Whatever," she huffs. "Just listen to bug-boy and drink it." She turns on her heels and jabs a finger at Zim. "Tell me when you're leaving so I can make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." With that, she skulks down the hallway, and we stare after her until her door slams shut. The tension in the room has lessened considerably, and the fear has receded - but now I just feel heavy and gross.

I push the air from my lungs and pull the shirt over my head, wincing at the random jabs of soreness in my shoulders. I grab the blood bag and sit on the edge of the bed; the smooth plastic squishes beneath my fingers.

"She is rather frightening," Zim murmurs, watching the empty hallway. He blinks and lowers his gaze to me; a thin smile twists his face. "We're friends now."

I snort at the idea of Zim being friends with anybody, let alone Gaz, and he frowns.

"Jealousy is very ugly, Dib - and you are ugly enough as it is."

"You're leaving?" I ask numbly. He gives a sharp nod.

"Zim must go back to the filthy sick house and search for the source of your condition since you completely fumbled my last attempt." He marches over to the bed and stands in front of me. " You are staying here."

I open my mouth to object, but he pokes his claw into my forehead and scowls. "I won't be long. Now hurry up and eat your juice so you can stop looking so ill."

Panic sparks. "But what if I–"

The poke turns into a hard flick and I flinch. "The Dib will be fine as long as you take your medicine ."

I squeeze the pack and stare at my knees. A million arguments bolt across my skull, some angry, some frantic - but all useless, because Zim is right. Until I get better, until we figure out what the fuck is happening to me, I can't keep putting myself - or them - at risk.

"Okay," I whisper. "Okay, fine." My hands shake and my brows pinch together. "...Can I get some privacy or–"

He snarls and snatches the bag from my lap. "This is no time for trickery, Dib !" He tears open the edge of the plastic and tiny droplets of red spurt up from the force. The smell is instantaneous and suddenly, suddenly , my body is lurching forward.

He barely has time to move before I grab the pouch. My teeth clamp down, and I pull and I drink , and there are no thoughts beyond the ignition in my bones, the firecrackers in my brain, the buzz and the hum and the hot, heavy need for more, more, more–

"See, I told you."

Gaz's voice snaps me back into the right dimension. I blink, stunned, kneeling on the floor with an empty pouch in my hands. The plastic has been peeled in two and licked clean.

She gestures with her hand. "Vampire."

My throat feels dry in the blood's absence. I swallow hard and clench the torn plastic in my fist. The ache rapidly withdraws from my body, as if I've somehow slept ten hours in an instant. The pain lifts, and so does the heat, and I'm left feeling as if it never happened.

I look up at Zim, at his darkened, intrigued expression; red, souring eyes dissect my actions for answers.

"Better?" he asks, cocking his head.

The muscles in my jaw flex as I fight the admission, but the words come out nonetheless. "Yeah…much better."

"Good! Zim was right, as usual." He clasps his hands together and steps towards the door. "I will return shortly. Use GIR's communication system to alert me if anything happens in my absence." He stops beside Gaz and narrows his eyes. "No 'memes.' Alerts only, pig-girl."

She rolls her eyes. "Obviously. I'm not a child."

He purses his lips and glares for a moment longer, but her expression doesn't budge. He makes a hmmph sound and pushes past her, stopping once more to point a claw in my direction.

"You," he hisses, "be good." He rounds the corner and stomps down the stairs. We listen to him yell something at GIR - a useless command, most likely - and then the back door slides shut.

Gaz looks at me and smirks. "I'm gonna send him memes."