A/N: Okay, next week's chapter might be late because I didn't have my act together and finish Part 2 yet. I'll work on it like a demon (a... good little youth-group-attending Christian demon XP), but it still might not be ready in time. This story turned out to be a bit more complicated than I expected.

"Now don't start that again. Hush up and listen." I sat down and put a paw on his shoulder.
"The cold hard facts of the matter are that if your old man was a cat, a dog, a rabbit, a deer, a duck, or almost anything but a buzzard, somebody would come along this road, see him out there in the snow, take him home, and nurse him back to health.
"But Junior, there ain't many people in this old world who are shopping around for a wounded buzzard to take home. That's as plain as I can make it."
~'Hank the Cowdog #13: The Wounded Buzzard on Christmas Eve' by John R. Erickson

A cat determined to hide can find places even in a two-by-four, one-room apartment that the person paying the rent doesn't know exist. A cat determined not to be found can be folded up like a pocket handkerchief if it wants to.
~'All My Patients Are Under The Bed' by Dr. Louis J. Camuti

8/3/04

3:59 AM

Planet Z

An Irken is an active, quick-moving creature. They have speedy metabolisms and (as one Dib Putchel has had ample opportunity to witness) they are fast, despite possessing short legs.

Irkens are also small, and fragile. They rely on speed when it comes to defense, their usual tactic is to force the attacker away with their claws and then run.

But to run, you first need an opportunity to get away, and sometimes simple clawing will not provide one.

I have read many biographies of Invader Zim and few of their authors seem to understand that Zim was not an unintelligent Irken. I knew him myself and his intelligence was not inconsiderable, and most of those who’ve had close contact with him know this as well, though certain individuals such as the Putchels are hard-pressed to admit it.

No, Zim’s failings had nothing to do with his intelligence. Zim was irrational, certainly. He was poorly skilled in logic and realistic planning, and had a tendency to grossly overestimate his own abilities. He had several mental issues, ranging from mild to serious, that were (in my opinion) caused by severe trauma in his formative years, and was definitely not gifted socially.

But he was not unintelligent. To the contrary, his IQ has tested as higher than that of Dr. Jumba Jookiba’s, and his inventions have been marveled at and displayed by such prestigious institutions as Harvard University. He managed to survive on Earth for two years despite his myriad issues and the interference of a genius of a child, Dib Putchel, who was immune to Irken Suggestion, thanks to experimentation done on him in infancy by his father. Zim was a creative, quick-thinking, ingenious individual, and those who have underestimated him have tended to meet unpleasant fates.

At this time in his life, Zim was actually more intellectually capable than he was at full health. When he was well and feeling fine, Zim- and on this point, everyone I have talked to has agreed- had a monstrously, unrealistically large ego, and tended to simply ignore factors that didn’t work in his favor. But in Zurg’s captivity, after being forced to ingest poison, subjected to vivisection, inserted with probes, electrodes and wires, electrocuted, and tortured, while all the while his Pak deteriorated more and more- Zim was too weak to deny that he was weak. He was simply too exhausted to keep up his usual shield of denial.

Instead, he let his instincts take over- he lay down on the floor of his cell and played dead.

Usually he would have been disgusted by a plan so simple and unelaborate, and, well, stupid, and would have wracked his brain to come up with the most outlandish escape attempt possible. But in his condition he wasn’t capable of anything complicated.

It was perhaps the best thing he could have done. Zurg knew Zim, after all. He expected the tiny Irken to try something wildly unusual. He did not expect him to do anything so mundane as pretending death and the grubs had not been cautioned against it.

For another thing, Brain Pod 01 had for the past few days been muttering gloomy things about Zim’s health failing if the experiments went on much longer. He certainly didn’t look too hale and hearty- he was constantly pale and staring, and had lost three pounds, which is a lot when you only weighed twenty to begin with. And he’d developed a creepy habit of muttering about nothing whenever the grubs checked on him. And he had all those bandages. All in all, the grubs weren’t too interested in making a thorough examination when they found him stretched out on the floor of his cell, motionless.

Irkens can refrain from breathing indefinitely thanks to the air filters in their Paks. Of course the grubs didn’t know to check the Pak. The purpose of those was classified information. Irken hearts are in the same place as human hearts, but grubs’ hearts are in the back, under their exoskeleton, so they pawed at the spot under Zim’s Pak for a moment, found no pulse, and decided he was really most sincerely dead. Grubs are not a bright species, which is probably why Zurg chose their planet to Invade- Irken Suggestion functions better on less intelligent individuals and Zurg's Suggestion was not impressive.

Of course, the moment they brought Zim out of the cell block he stopped playing dead and attacked. Within seconds, the astonished grubs had claw marks all over their faces (one had been bitten clear through the exoskeleton) and Zim had disappeared.

When intensive searching failed to bring him back, the grubs decided Zurg would not have to know about this. The grubs would report that Zim had indeed died and been incinerated, and then they would smuggle off Planet Z the next time a Star Cruiser showed up.

This was not because they were afraid of Zurg’s wrath when he found out the truth, either. The grubs didn’t want to live on a planet where Zim was wandering about free.

4:36 AM

Zim had once spent an Irken year of his life- equivalent to ten Earth years for you terrestrial readers- hoboing it around the Empire. That had been when he was young, and not so universally loathed.

In fact, back then no one had known who he even was. He was no one, he was nothing. He was too small to be treated with any respect. He had flitted from planet to planet, hiding on cargo ships and in the back of buses, and it had seemed like no one saw him, no one heard him, no one even knew he was there.

It had grown unbearable, and Zim had worked very hard to make sure he was never ignored again. But these were... special circumstances.

He was as small now as he had been when he was a teenager, any flab he'd gained during his middle age had been lost during the last two horrible years. In fact, he was probably even thinner now, and that made it easy to slip onto the cargo freighter. It was like riding a bike- he hadn't forgotten how to creep into the box of weapons unnoticed, and lie there without making a single sound, even when the grubs jostled his injured arm moving the box.

Once well on his way, once he was absolutely sure no one was there to discover him, he climbed out of the box and studied the other packages in the hold. There were several going to Tradeworld; he picked a nice big one that looked easy to open. It was going to a costume shop. Wonderful.

It'd been rare back then for him to have a set destination in mind like this... usually he'd just pick a mode of transportation at random and go wherever it was going.

He crawled into the box and lay inside curled up in the fetal position, breathing shallowly.

5:32 AM

A shop on Tradeworld

Dull magenta eyes stared at him out of the mirror, set in a pale, sickly, expressionless face.

His much relied-upon Suggestion would not help him with the person he was going to see... so he'd just need his most brilliant disguise yet.

He picked up the jar of makeup and stared into it... It was red makeup.

He dipped his claws into the makeup and slowly spread it across his cheek in streaks. He had to use all of it to coat his skin thickly enough so that his scales didn't show. Then he put on some yellow contacts with slit-like pupils.

He attached some prosthetic gills to each side of his neck and put in a set of false teeth, the kind you find at a costume shop. Then he put on a large, floppy sunhat that covered his antennae.

He pulled on a worn, smelly coat he'd found in a Dumpster. It covered his Pak and made it look like he was hunchbacked. That was good. The shoulders were padded too, hiding his slim frame. Very good.

He was wearing baggy jeans and platform shoes. Good.

This little store had packages addressed to Star Command waiting for pickup… best of all.

7:53 AM

Star Command’s science bay

"Okay, let's make one thing clear."

Two pairs of jewel-like magenta Irken eyes stared back at him, one pair wide and frightened, the other cold and challenging.

XR held up one index finger, his lips tightly compressed. "You guys... are NOT allowed... to shock us robots. I don't care if Dyna here is shorter than you. You can't shock her."

The one with the big eyes- a female named Tenn- flinched away. "Gee, we're-"

"Not sorry," the other one cut in, putting his hands on his hips. One of those hands was a mechanical prosthetic; this dude, Rikk, had lost his arm in the... incident that had taken his homeworld. "Dude, would we do that? Nuh-uh. We're researching, A-Tyr. RESEARCHING."

XR sighed and covered his face with one hand. They were standing in the middle of the science bay. Behind them, LGMs were scurrying around Dyna, the janitor, who'd been shocked into unconsciousness and was lying under a sheet on the table. "Researching. Sure. By shocking people who clearly annoy you. That's research."

Rikk nodded, smiling. Tenn was doing her little dance she did when she got nervous, hopping from foot to foot and tugging on the cuffs of her gloves.

XR shook his head. Oh boy. "All right. Here's the thing. Rikk." He gave the Irken an ingratiating grin. "The LGMs need a special part for their new invention."

"No we-" one of the LGMs started to say. XR waved at him to shut up.

"Special part, huh?" Rikk asked, totally calm.

XR nodded. "A shop in the Federation sells it, and since you're the most trustworthy guy around..."

"Say no more, my Taller," Rikk saluted. (XR was, indeed, an inch or so taller.)

Phew. XR pulled out a notepad and pen and scribbled down an intentionally unintelligible set of instructions. "Here," he said, handing it over. Rikk took it and saluted again.

"I'll go right away!" And he ran out of the room. That just left Tenn.

"You're on break, go eat candy," XR told her, rather nasally.

"Okay, sir!" she said, and ran off.

XR sighed and shook his head. He looked over at one of the LGMs tending to Dyna. "Why do you let those two walk all over you?"

"Taaaaaller than us," one of them explained.

XR whacked his head against the inside of his helmet. "That doesn't MATTER! Okay? Except in THEIR twisted minds. You just have to be firm, okay?! They're supposed to be your assistants, for crying out loud! Why is Rikk even allowed NEAR your equipment?"

The LGMs hesitated, shooting each other anxious looks. XR groaned. "You know what? Forget it. I gotta go to work."

"Bye, XR," one of the LGMs said, subdued.

XR grumbled something in reply as he headed into the hallway. He didn't know why he got involved. Why didn't he just leave the stupid Irkens alone? Time and time again, he'd sworn them off, but here he was, still...

Of course, Rikk was a special case. XR had personally rescued him from his ravaged homeworld, after all. And the Irkens seemed to like XR. He was just half an inch or so above average Irken height, and they seemed to really like robots. They'd found a LOT of robot wreckage on what was left on Irk. Apparently, robots were companions, chefs, partners in crime... they raised all the Irken babies...

Well, no more. He meant it this time. He wasn't going to-

"Hey, A-Tyr!"

That was Kel, a purple-eyed Irken female with funny long antennae. He'd personally rescued her too. He stopped. "Good morning."

"Trik asked for your autograph," she said, holding out a notepad.

"Oh, sure," he said, and signed: Your pal, A-Tyr.

"Thank you," Kel said, giving him a peck on the helmet and running off.

Okay, so he was a glutton for punishment. Baah.

But seriously, he wasn't gonna get involved with the likes of Rikk anymore, and-

"A-Tyr."

XR turned. He was looking at a tiny, skinny, red-skinned alien with yellow cat eyes and fins on both sides of his neck. The alien's eyes were big and haunted and half-closed.

"Uh, yeah?" he said. "What?" It didn't strike him as odd that a stranger knew his name, XR was regularly featured in various forms of media. This was probably a tourist about to ask for another autograph.

"I need to talk to your sister," the alien slurred.

XR frowned. "Whaat? You're kidding, right?"

The alien blinked slowly. "Why would I be kidding?"

His voice was weak and squeaky and hoarse. It sounded familiar, but XR couldn't place it. "Uh, because my sister's been missing for a year?" A nasty tone came into his voice. "Because she turned into a fugitive and disappeared?"

The alien blinked again. He looked very ill. XR went closer. "Are you okay?"

"You're not holding her in a cell? She's not trapped in prison?"

"Uh, no... we tried that, but she got out."

"How can she be gone?"

XR did know that voice. He did. Where did he know it from? "I... look, how do you even know my sister?"

"I must go now," the alien said in a funny, stilted tone, and he turned to walk stiffly away. XR followed him.

"Well, wait! Is something wrong with you? Are ya sick? Hurt? Come on! What is it?"

"I have to go!" he insisted. "Let me go!"

XR backed away, holding his hands up. ‘Let me go?’ He hadn’t even touched him. "Okay, okay! Golly! I just wanted to know if I could help, is all."

"You can't," the alien said, backing away. "You can't help me! No one can help me but your sister!"

"Okay... look, do I know you from somewhere?"

The alien froze, trembling. With every motion he made he reinforced XR's feeling of familiarity. "No! You don't know me! I have to leave now!" He darted off.

XR hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should report this. Then he realized he was late for patrol. Creepy red guy would have to wait.

8:01 AM

Tradeworld

Funny how many slips people make when they're overconfident.

Even the threat of total annihilation only a year ago seemingly hadn't had much effect on Star Command's sense of safety. What was wrong with people? Did they just expect Buzz Lightyear to save them from everything? The man wouldn't be around forever; he was a human, a species with a relatively short lifespan (certainly nothing on the Irkens, who could expect a good 400 years if they weren't executed or killed in battle, let alone the 600-year-plus Jukani Jalobin). No Irken vessel would be lax enough-

Then again, maybe they wouldn't have caught him either. The thing was, Star Command had been designed for the most part to keep baddies from getting ONTO the station, not OFF of the station. The holding cells were few and sparse, meant to be very temporary methods of incarceration, and if no breakout had been reported, no one would expect stowaways to appear in the launch bay. And few villains were small enough to lodge themselves in the glove compartment. (In Zim's meager defense, it was a really big glove compartment.)

Still, one would expect the rangers to check their ship before taking off. Maybe these were rookies. Whatever the reason why, he hadn't been caught. It was as simple as could be to wait in his hiding place until the captain of the team announced a stop on Tradeworld, then to wait until the ship landed and the rangers left, then to emerge from the glove compartment and wander into the street.

Having filched some money from that glove compartment, he promptly waved down a cab and asked the driver to take him to the nearest spaceport.

It was obvious to Zim that MALIK would never, ever abandon him. Minimoose likewise. They were faithful, resourceful robots and since they hadn't come for him, they were obviously being detained somewhere, captive and in need of their master. His first assumption had been that Star Command was holding them, but A-Tyr (whom he believed to be far too naive to lie) had said they were not.

That left Dib.

And Dib was on Earth.

Once inside the spaceport, Zim quickly located some people going to Turo and got inside their checked luggage.

4:43 PM

Turian airport

In a deserted storage room heaped up with luggage, something was moving.

'Invader' Zim tumbled out of the dingy gray duffel bag he'd been hiding in, disheveled, panting, his makeup smeared, sunglasses askew and one antenna sticking out from under his hat.

It is not pleasant to travel in a duffel bag in the baggage compartment of a spaceship enclosed with your own feverish body heat, a large amount of aftershave and some alien's dirty gym shorts. Zim took a minute to lie flat on his back, wall-eyed and making little gagging noises. When he'd had enough of that he sat up, got his appearance into order as best he could, and tottered out of the room to blend in with the spaceport crowds.

It was a very big spaceport, the biggest in the Federation, in fact, though Zim didn't know that. He did know that he was surrounded by thousands of people of all different species, the sounds and sights and smells of which, though providing excellent cover, did nothing to help his space-sickness. He needed out of here, and fast. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, since he doubted his squeedly-spooch could take another eight hours in a duffel bag), there were no commercial flights to Earth; he'd need to drive. Which meant he'd need to rent a car, or steal one. He didn't feel up to stealing a car, so that left renting- only he'd used up all his glove-compartment money on the cab here, and he didn't have any ID that matched his appearance.

But that should be immaterial. After all, Zim wasn't just some skaatel schmuck, he was a finely trained Irken Invader and the strongest Suggestor alive! This would be child's play!

He fought his way through the crowds and airport smells to the rental desk, where, since his problems were obviously more important than some idiot's vacation, he cut to the front of the line and kicked the desk to get the attention of the person behind it.

"Hello? May I help you?" she asked, leaning over and blinking down at him.

"Yes, I need a car," he said, and without even thinking about it- the ability came as naturally as breathing- he met her eyes, flexed, and-

-staggered backwards as his head filled with a white supernova of pain.

He backed into the man behind him, who picked him up by the scruff of the neck, growling: "What do you think you're doing, you little jerk? I was here first!"

"Sir!" the woman behind the desk said. "Please, put him down!"

Zim stared at her, frantically flexing again- oh! Oh, Irk, he'd never felt anything so painful! He could sense the ability was there, but his damaged brain couldn't... quite... oh, Irk. His whole body shuddered.

"I'll put him down if he gets out of my way," the man holding him snarled.

"Okay!" Zim choked. "I will-" and he was tossed aside.

"Hey, are you all right?" a voice said as he picked himself up off the ground.

"Yes, yes," he lied, "No need to alert the authorites, I'm fine, I'm perfectly all right-" and he vanished into the crowd.

No Suggestion? It was unthinkable, impossible! The ability would return-

it would, it would return, it HAD TO RETURN-

-but it obviously wasn't going to return NOW, and he needed it NOW! No, no, Irk, no, what was he going to DO? All his life he'd relied on that power, it had ALWAYS been there, and now- NOW, when he was alone, when he was stranded, of course it had to be NOW, just- just-

He ran for the men's room.

5:01 PM

A restroom in a Turian airport

Cold tile under his knees, harsh lights and blinding white paint, and oh, IRK, the smell.

Zim sucked in a shuddering breath. He was kneeling in front of a toilet in the airport restroom, hunched and shivering, clutching his sides. His forehead was resting against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl- he refused to think about how many germs had to be marching off of it onto his clammy skin.

Ohh, ever since that horrid day when he'd set foot on Earthen soil his life had gotten progressively worse, first Dib, then the Alliance, then- Irk, he'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be healthy. How much more could he-

He shook his head, grinding his teeth together. No. No. Just a brief... three-year glitch in his life, he'd get past this and- and then-

No Suggestion. No influence. This was bad. Any way you looked at it, it was-

(no I am NOT done for I am still Zim and they will NOT BREAK ME EVER)

the loss of the ability was like the loss of a limb, and he was already so weak and-

(I will not give in I am an INVADER)

He gasped, his narrow chest heaving. His head pounded in tune with the beat of his heart and he felt weak, dizzy, unsure- to be ompletely truthful, he wasn't even sure how far he could walk, he was trembling all over-

(of course I can shreekit when I get somewhere safe I can lie around all I want now get up, Zerinim, GET UP!!!)

Coughing so harshly he saw spots, he dragged himself to his feet. Now. Down to business. This disguise would be no good now, after that little tiff in the rental car line. That tourist might be out for his blood now. Too bad he didn't HAVE another disguise-

Or did he?

Surely all Irkens looked alike to these stupid skaatelleeee. A-Tyr would have been the only one he really had to fear recognition from, and he wasn't here, now was he?

Any Irkens he came across would be sure to recognize him, but what would any self-respecting Irken be doing in this hole? And these contact lenses couldn't be helping his power, it had always been harder with contacts. And these sunglasses. What was he doing with these glasses?

He took off the glasses and peeled away the contacts. Well, that felt quite a bit better as well.

He removed the coat and hat and prosthetic gills and used an arm of the coat to wipe the makeup off his face. He glanced at his reflection in the toilet water... he could only see a translucent, fuzzy ghost image of himself, and it looked smudged and dirty and oddly distorted. Oh, what he wouldn't give for a nice paste bath... oh well.

Maybe he'd better keep the sunglasses after all, his large, round eyes were his most distinctive feature.

He looked down at himself. Oy. He was still wearing that prison jumpsuit. Would people out here in the Federation recognize that giant Z emblem? Better not to take chances... he took off the suit, turned it inside-out, and put it back on.

All right, he was as ready as he'd ever be. He took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom.

This time he waited in line like a good boy, and when he got to the desk he used his Paklegs to get up high enough to see the woman on the other side.

"Hello, how may I help you?" she asked with a smile. She hadn't recognized him from twenty minutes ago. Good.

"I need a car. Now," he told her.

"I see," she said, pulling out some forms. "What kind of a car, sir?"

"Something with good gas mileage."

"May I see your ID?"

Zim took a deep breath. "Umm..."

He had an ID card, of course, a really nifty holographic one that listed all his stats, how long he'd been working in his current position and what ELSE he'd done, and all kinds of other cool things. It also had his name on it in big, flattering letters. "Ever heard of Invader Zim? Cool guy, huh?"

The woman gave him a very strange look. "Yes, I've heard of him... don't worry, sir, we don't discriminate against the Irken species because of one deranged individual."

Zim made an involuntary squeaky noise as the bottom fell out of his squeedly spooch. "What? DERANGED? Whaaat? Nah! He was a... good person in a bad place, you see, and-"

"Sir, is this some sort of joke?"

"No!" he cried. "This is deadly serious! Why would I joke about-"

Zoburg must have been spreading lies about him. Only explanation.

"Who are you?" the woman asked, reaching for her phone.

He grabbed his head, growling. People were beginning to stare. "Don't call security, this isn't-" He voiced a frustrated cry. There was nothing for it, he'd just have to play through the pain, as it were, and he whipped off his sunglasses, meeting her eyes with his teeth bared.

When he came to, he was flat on his back, staring up at three huge, beefy security guards.

In his confusion his mind skipped back in time two years. "I AM NORMAAAAL!!!" And of course, such a claim required some psychic energy to ensure it was heard and believed, but... gosh, that wasn't working so well, was it, and this time he began to thrash about in the throes of a grand mal seizure. One of the guards slipped his billy-club between the Irken's teeth to keep him from biting his tongue off.

When the gray fog cleared away, Zim concluded that his Suggestion really wasn't working. Uh-oh.

"Normal, huh?" one of the gurds rumbled.

For a moment Zim lay paralyzed. No power. No power.

"Sir, are you all right? Should I call for an ambulance?" another guard said.

"No... I'm fine," he managed. "I just... need to go home and... take my medicine."

"Uh huh. Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to submit to a drug test."

Zim bolted on his Paklegs, shoving the guards aside. He didn't consciously decide to do it; one minute he was lying there submissively, the next he was flying out the door and down the sidewalk through a throng of motion and lights and sounds. And... then he was hiding in a bush. A scratchy bush.

He sat there, hyperventilating, for he didn't know how long- quite a few minutes. He may very well have remained there until he fell into a stupor and died or was found by law enforcement, if not for:

"Hey."

Zim jerked, gulping. A scent of unfamiliar Irken had joined the fresh, sharp, rather sickening bush smell. He turned to see a male with kinked antennae and a robotic left arm.

"Whatcha doin'?" the stranger asked.

Zim was quiet for a moment, having no idea where this man had come from. Finally he said: "Just sittin' here."

"Mind if I join?"

"Uh... I dunno."

The stranger plopped down next to Zim, looking completely nonchalant. Zim had to wonder if this was some kind of hallucination. "You don't look so good."

Zim shrugged.

"Comin' in from Irk?"

Another shrug. This guy had to recognize him, right? What was going on?

"I'm Rikk," the stranger said. "Y'know, you look a lot like that Zim guy that ruined all our lives and blew up our planet."

Oh.

"No offense."

"None taken," Zim said. He felt so... funny. Clearing his name would be... an undertaking. Maybe he could just wait for everyone to forget...

"You've got way more scars on your face than he does, though," Rikk continued.

Zim jerked, blinking. Scars? He didn't remember having scars on his face-

"I mean, sorry for saying that, if I looked like Zim I wouldn't want people reminding me all the time."

In a rare moment of intelligence- that, or he was mute from shock and exhaustion- Zim said nothing.

Rikk shrugged. "Eh, I guess it's not THAT surprising. He's got one of those faces, you know. Plain. Stupid. Average."

Zim squeaked in protest. WHo WAS this idiot?

Rikk scratched his upper lip. "Man, I hate that guy. HATE HIM! What a screw-up!"

Zim inched away a little.

"So what's your name?" Rikk asked.

"Um." Beat. "Miyuki."

There was a dead silence.

"That's a girl's name."

"I didn't say I LIKED it!" Zim screamed. Why was this day being so unflinchingly awful? What had he ever done to August 3rd, 2004?

"Okay, okay," Rikk said. "Miyuki, there was a Tallest named that, right?"

Zim looked away. "I dunno." Why did this guy care?

"You goin' to Star Command?"

"No."

"Really? Where are you going?"

"Nowhere, I'm sitting down."

Rikk raised an eyebrow. "You live in this bush?"

Zim snorted. "NO." Idiot. "I was going to Earth. Don't know how to get there now." He looked down at the parched grass he was sitting on.

Rikk frowned. "Earth? That's where Zim was."

"I have a nemesis there."

"Ah. When were you on Earth?"

"Uh... I was going to visit Zim. Heard he was really cool."

Rikk doubled over, laughing. "Good one, man! Oh boy!"

Zim went dark green. Rikk apparently didn't notice. "You want a lift?"

Zim jerked backwards, blinking. "HUH? A lift? What?"

Rikk shrugged. "I got a car."

Zim just stared.

"Yes, I can drive," Rikk said defensively.

This was... Zim couldn't remember EVER just being offered assistance from a stranger like this. "Why?"

"I took a class."

Zim shook his head. "Why help me? You're working for ZOBURG, aren't you?!"

Rikk looked nonplussed. "Me? No. Never heard of him. You're another Irken, aren't you?"

Zim scowled, his antennae flattening to his head. "SO? Since when do Irkens help each other?"

RIkk stared at him. "I really don't know what you mean." Zim blinked. Then he leaned forward, frowning. Staring into Rikk's eyes, he flexed his mind, but gently, carefully, stopping when it began to hurt too much.

Instead of the trusted, familiar feeling of a part of himself going out to merge with and control the other individual, something was coming into him... something vague, a feeling, a feeling of pride in the whole Irken race, of fellowship, companionship, being part of a greater whole.

He pulled away. He thought he'd been tired a minute ago? NOW he was tired. He couldn't imagine being any more tired. He felt as if he'd been utterly drained of life force. "You wouldn't give Zim a ride..."

"Pfft, course not. I'd shoot him dead."

In spite of the million safeguards and denials he'd set up, in spite of all his narcissism and bull-headed refusals, something had finally clicked. And it wouldn't un-click.

"Fine," he grated, eyes closed. "I'll take your ride."

"Are you okay, dude? You don't look-"

"SILENCE!"

Rikk stared at him. Hopefully just shocked and not finally connecting his voice with the one that had been shouting 'PULL THOSE LEVERS!' all over the news some six years ago.

Zim got to his feet, breathing heavily. "I'll go, but only if you don't ask me any more questions!"

Rikk shrugged. "Okay, man. If I can help."

Zim's hands balled into fists. Idiot!

5:42 PM

Rikk's car was a little Star Command shuttle he'd plastered over with Irken symbols, to that prissy A-Tyr's annoyance. When he saw it, the strange Irken he'd found (finding the feminine name of 'Miyuki' a bit awkward, RIkk had elected to call him 'Bush-Man') stopped dead, blinking dully.

"Tyrinorma?" he said in that funny, scratchy, vaguely familiar voice of his.

"Yeah, why?"

Bush-Man was quiet for a moment, then he got in the passenger seat. Rikk got in beside him.

"Earth, right?" he confirmed. "What part of Earth?"

"Uhh... I don't remember, I'll have to look it up when we get close enough to use their Internet," he mumbled.

Rikk raised his eyebrows. "They have an Internet?"

Bush-Man nodded, looking away. His skin was a sickly pale yellow. Rikk hoped he wasn't contagious. He didn't really seem sick, just beaten up, so there was hope.

"Okay then," he said, starting the engines. It would be seven hours to Earth and back, but it beat working.

Bush-Man put his head on the armrest, lower lip protruding in a slight pout and antennae limp against his scalp. His eyes were nearly closed.

Rikk reached for the radio. "Do you mind?"

"Nah."

Rikk turned on the radio, tuning it to catchy, obnoxious, meaningless Federation pop. He started to bob his head in time with the music.

"I want to touch your tentacles , ooh, ooh, yeah," he sang along. "Uh huh, all niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight, wanna be with you all niiiiiiiiiiiight, every , all six of your eyes give me the chills , and I want your tentacles, yeeeaah-"

"Snrrrrkkkk."

Rikk jumped and looked over at Bush-Man, who had gone all limp and twitchy. His eyes were closed and he was making a horrible snorty sound. "GAH! OH IRK! HE'S DYING!"

"Snrrrrkkk..."

Rikk clutched his antennae. "No no no, don't you die in my car, no no no-"

"Mmphsnrkkk..." Oh Irk, he was drooling, too! Rikk began to shake him, rather more violently than was necessary.

"STOP THAT! DON'T YOU DARE DIE IN MY CAR!"

Before his eyes, Bush-Man jerked to a sitting position, his eyes fluttering open behind his crooked sunglasses. "Eh... HUH?" he grunted.

Rikk heaved a sigh. "Hoo! I didn't think that would work!"

Bush-Man made a funny 'aah' noise, opening his mouth wide and exposing an unhealthy, raw throat. "Whaaat? Are we there yet?"

Rikk's eyebrows shot up. "Sweet Irk, were you deprived of nitrogen? You're not brain-damaged now, are you?"

Bush-Man stared at him. "Eh?"

Rikk frowned. "How do you check someone for brain damage?"

Bush-Man seemed to blanch a little. "What? Why would you think I have brain damage?"

"You were choking," Rikk informed him. "Like this: Snrrrkkkk..."

Bush-Man stared at him for a moment, disbelieving, then he turned away, smacking himself in the forehead. "I'm not DYING, you FOOL," he grated, speaking as though with great effort. "I was- organically recharging." This last was said with a little grimace and shudder.

Rikk blinked. "You WHAT?" He drew away, making a face. How very... defective. "Ew."

Bush-Man ground his teeth together. "Whaddaya mean, EW? It's completely normal! We wouldn't HAVE that function if it wasn't NORMAL!"

"Okay, okay," Rikk said, but he looked away, making a face. Sleeping. Ew. What a... dumb, useless, foreign thing to do.

Bush-Man sat straight up in his chair, folding his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed tightly together. Rikk turned up the radio. Within minutes, Bush-man was curled up snoring again. Rikk turned the radio up even louder to drown it out. What a disgusting noise.

8/3/04

9:23 PM

Earth- a parking lot in Kaua'i, Hawai'i

"Hey, wake up," a curt voice said, and there was a sudden, stinging pain in his arm as Rikk slapped him.

"Stop waking up Zim," he moaned. Every five minutes, it'd been... Rikk shaking him, asking if he was SURE he wasn't choking, if he could hear that awful noise he was making, if it hurt to go to sleep... Rikk got bored easily, apparently. Only once had he woken Zim up for any real reason, when they’d been in orbit and Zim had needed to look up Dib’s current place of residence on the ship’s computer. Dib lived on an island now. A forshke island.

"We're here. Get out of my car," Rikk said, and gave him a shove.

"Mm," Zim complained, as he was shoved out of the car to stand unsteadily on the asphalt.

Immediately, he was hit with the reek of Earth, water, humans, all kinds of unfamiliar plant and animal species, and everywhere water, poison, acid water, and it was even worse than he remembered, it was so hot, it was suffocating. He staggered forward, weaving through the rows of cars in a daze. By sheer luck, there were no humans around, just their cars.

He paused, resting against a little convertible and trying to get his breath. Oh, Irk, Irk, Irk, the smell. He couldn't believe how bad it was. The muggy air felt like a giant hand pressing him to the ground.

He closed his eyes, turning away and shaking his head to try to clear it. When he opened his eyes again, he gasped. He was looking at himself in the car's rearview mirror.

No wonder Rikk hadn't recognized him- the computer system that had raised Zim from smeethood wouldn't have recognized him. His face was so puffy and bruised as to have completely changed its shape, his eyes partially swollen shut. He'd always been on the thin side, but now he was emaciated, the prison suit hanging off him in folds.

And... the scars. A big, wide, nasty stitched-up gash across his forehead, and a thinner, older line running over his left eye. He fingered it in disbelief. How?... he looked absolutely disgusting.

And not in the least human. In fact, it was surprising Rikk hadn’t tried to take him to the hospital-

Or not. Rikk had seemed immensely dense.

Sighing, Zim stumbled out of the parking lot, into the forest.

11:34 PM

Earth- a store on Kaua’i

The store was cluttered and huge, racks of merchandise rising a good six feet over his head on every side. Thick, meaty smells of human laced with the potent, indescribable tang of genetic experiment filled the building. It made him feel sick, and he gagged ineffectively, his head dipping and his whole body heaving.

Then he dragged himself down the aisle, looking about him with big, dull ruby eyes.

The store was a normal department store; no prosthetics of any sort were being sold. Instead, in one hand he held a box of clay.

He also took some makeup, some glue, some clothes and shoes, false plastic teeth and a costume wig, then retreated to a storage room.

Zim was not of an artistic bent- he could draw no better than stick figures- but he was good with his hands and Irken claws are well-suited to clay. With the help of a magazine to look at, he soon had a passable nose and ears. He glued them onto his face, then took out three bottles of foundation and began to cover up his scales and the gray color of the clay.

By some stroke of luck, he had his old disguise contact lenses in his Pak still. Those went on. So did the wig, and a baseball cap to cover it and shield his face a bit.

The makeup went on his arms and legs as well. Then he pulled on a sundress and Mary Janes and put in the false teeth. Hopefully, the wedge of plastic in his mouth would disguise his voice a bit as well as his dental structure.

There, a normal human girl.

He staggered out of the store.

11:46 PM

The yard was empty and still, the front walk looming and huge. It took him far longer than it should have to drag himself up to the door, where he stood still for a minute, chest heaving.

Zim was just short enough that his head was below the motion sensor Professor Membrane had installed. He was not stopped before he reached up to hit the doorbell.

A few notes played. Zim closed his eyes, waiting. He heard footsteps.

The door opened. "What do you WANT? I was in the zone!" He looked up to see a familiar face, a good two feet above his own. Violet hair... heavy mascara... video game device in one hand. She must have been pulling an all-nighter… why not, with no father to tell her not to?

She raised an eyebrow at him, her expression incredulous, but not really surprised. "Zim?"

He took a deep, labored breath. "Gaz..."

She raised her eyebrows. "Huh. You got a new disguise." She smirked a little. "That one sucks a lot less."

He swallowed. "H-how did you..."

She shrugged. "I don't know how I knew it was you. I just did." She paused. "I guess you want Dib."

He forced himself to nod.

"He's not here. He's on a sleepover next door," Gaz said. "You look like crap." And she went back inside.

Next door. He turned his head to see a house through the trees.

Then he'd go to that house...

11:59 PM

It's good to have friends.

Lilo smiled over at Dib's silhouette against the stars. His breathing was slow and even, his chin resting on his chest. Dib could sleep sitting up. He'd told her he learned to do it during the two years of his life he'd shared a classroom with a hostile alien.

She glanced away, absorbing the view from up on the rooftop dome. She felt like she could see for miles. It was so beautiful. There had even been a shooting star two hours ago.

She could hear Pleakley's snoring from below, inside the dome. Of course, two young teenagers of different genders couldn't be allowed to spend the night together without supervision- even if they were doing something as all-absorbing as werewolf watch. In a half hour she'd wake Dib and he'd start his shift. At least one of them had to be continually alert- there was no time for anything romantic. She didn't even think of Dib that way anyway-

right? She shot him a sideways glance. Nah, nah. He was just her partner in paranormal investigation. They hunted zombies together and did werewolf watches. Like her and Stitch, except that Dib was her age and species, and spoke in complete sentences.

Speaking of Stitch, he was curled up next to her, asleep. As for Lilo's other friend, Mertle, she'd come a long way, but not long enough for werewolf watch.

She leaned back, staring up at the sky with a sigh. There was an intangible sensation of love all around her, coming from Dib and Stitch on either side, coming from Pleakley downstairs, even... on a night like this, it was easy to imagine her parents smiling down at her from heaven. She closed her eyes, smiling slightly.

Then her expression sobered. The feeling of being loved was... oddly protective. Like it wasn't just coming to her to make her happy... but to make her strong.

As if something was coming.

She shook her head. She got these feelings sometimes and she didn't know why... like the night before Stitch came (something that would always be brightly burned into her memory however old she got). She had felt that she had HAD to pray that particular prayer, after seeing the meteor... she couldn't have stopped if she wanted to...

Now she felt like she had to go downstairs.

She stretched herself, slowly, and reached over to touch Dib on the shoulder. He was instantly awake and fully alert, something else he'd trained himself to do. "My turn?"

"Yeah, I'm going to go get a snack," she said. "I'll be right back."

He nodded, his amber eyes bright and intense behind his glasses. He got into position, taking the camcorder out of their anti-werewolf kit.

Lilo headed into the dome, past Pleakley (who was fast asleep, Lilo and Dib could probably have made out all they wanted without being caught if that had been their intention- if they had even been old enough to be interested in the first place) and down into the house.

At first there seemed to be no reason for her sudden compulsion to come down. She shrugged. She might as well get an actual snack- something for Dib and Stitch, too. Smores sounded good...

She headed into the kitchen, opening up the cabinet. Suddenly there was a banging noise and Lilo ran into the living room.

Standing in the now-open front doorway was an emaciated little girl. Her posture was stiff and frozen, her eyes wide and staring. Steam was billowing off her in waves where the rain hit and Lilo screamed.

"Are you okay?" she cried, running over to her.

"Here I am," the girl said in a low, scratchy voice, something very unnatural, and she collapsed in a little heap, first hitting her knees, then slumping over on the floor.

Lilo immediately scooped her up and brought her in to the couch. The stranger seemed to be a dangerously thin six-year-old. Lilo laid her down on the cushions and leaned over her, peering at her. Her eyes widened. The girl was the... strangest-looking child Lilo had ever seen.

She was only about three feet tall. Her face was rather square-shaped with a monstrous overbite and buck teeth sticking out. Her nose and ears were small and oddly-shaped and seemed to not quite fit her head. And her skin looked... pitted. Almost like it was dissolving.

Lilo touched the girl's cheek. Her fingers came away sticky with a beige substance- makeup?

She began rubbing the girl's skin. It was makeup. Lilo cleared away a small spot of the stuff- underneath it was green.

She sucked in her breath and looked closely at the nose and ears. Fake? She gently pulled away one ear. It came off with another patch of green underneath. Green scales.

The 'girl' shuddered suddenly and moaned. It was a deep, shuddering noise- too deep. It was a man's voice.

Lilo was dimly aware of her own pounding heart and cold sweat as she probed at the 'girl's' scalp- her hair came away in one big piece. Under the wig were two long, curved black antennae.

"LILO! What happened?"

She turned to see Nani and Jumba had run into the room, apparently hearing her scream.

"We have a visitor," she said tonelessly.

The two adults came closer, their eyes widening. "Is- is that an experiment?" Nani whispered.

"No..." Jumba muttered, kneeling down beside the alien. "This is... not an experiment." He gently touched the alien's antennae, and it jerked, groaning.

"Then what is it?"

The elevator whirred and Pleakley emerged with an accusatory: "That scream better not have been the sound of a young girl losing her virginity!" He marched into the living room, saw the alien and jerked back, gasping.

Dib and Stitch were hot on his heels, both crying "What is it? What happened?" When Dib saw the alien, he want pale and ran over, forcing his way past Jumba. "NO!" he cried.

"What is it?" Lilo asked.

"I see you have come to the same conclusion as myself," Jumba said. "This creature... is an Irken."

"It's GROSS!" Pleakley cried.

"Why is it here?" Nani asked, pressing a hand to her collarbone. "Is it sick?"

"He," Dib said. "The Irken's a male. See the antennae? On girls, they're curly." He reached out and removed the Irken's fake teeth. His real teeth were a good deal sharper.

"What is it, Dib?" Lilo asked. Something seemed to be not right here.

Dib pushed at the bridge of his glasses. "Nothing. Nothing. It's just this Irken is the spitting image of- of-"

"Of what?" Lilo demanded. "John Lennon? Adolf Hitler? I know it's not Elvis!"

"Worse than Hitler," Dib said softly, apparently not noticing the sarcasm. He shuddered. "But that can't be right. Can't be. They all look alike anyway." He leaned closer, examining the stranger's face.

"Well, who is it he looks like?" Pleakley demanded.

"He's hurt," Stitch said, pointing to the Irken's head. There was a stitched-up gash there, clumsily covered with makeup.

"That's a surgery wound," Jumba said. He looked grim.

Suddenly the Irken's eyelids fluttered. Dib pulled back, inhaling sharply.

"H'ohhhh," the small creature sighed. His voice was high-pitched, nasal and scratchy. It didn't sound quite natural. "Found you, Dib..."

Everyone froze, their attention fixed solely on this small, inoffensive-looking scrap of an alien. He inhaled laboriously and said in a slurred, weak voice- "You thought... you were rid of me? You thought... I would give up so easily?"

"I thought you were finally gone," Dib said. His voice was completely even.

Zim closed his eyes, smirking a little. He didn't seem to have heard. "No, no... where you go, I will follow... always...."

And he was still.

There was a pause.

"Well, that was creepy," Pleakley said, and crossed himself, something he’d seen on TV.

A/N: It amuses me how many people would probably like to interpret that last bit as ZADR.