Not a Monster Anymore (Double Crossed Book 2)

Chapter 17

(Zim's P.O.V)

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Something feels very wrong.

It's not the most pleasant thought to have as we walk through the door, especially considering that Dib seems very relaxed, and he's rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb. But all the same, I have a hanging feeling of dread looming ever closer as I walk into the kitchen, where Gir has tacos laid out on the table, waving enthusiastically as he sees us enter the house.

There is very definitely something wrong, but I try to ignore it as we sit down at the table. I don't eat, both because I can't eat most Earth food, and because I'm just plain not hungry, despite having skipped dinner entirely due to be bailed out. The dread feeling has left me feeling slightly sickish. Of course nothing extreme, but my stomach is definitely uncomfortable. I stare blankly at the wall, and no one says a word as Gir and Dib eat.

I can hear a slight buzzing. It sounds so familiar, but I can't place it. Before I can start to imagine the possibilities of what it could be, Dib finishes, standing up and thanking Gir for the food (even though he didn't make it- it's from the Crazy Taco).

"Hey, could you help me with something?" Dib asks, taking a step back and pushing his chair back into place at the table.

"What is it?" The words feel stiff on my tongue, but I look up, shaking myself from my trance-like state nonetheless.

"I have this journal- or, well, it's not mine but, like, I have it," Dib stutters, before taking a breath and laughing at himself a bit before saying, "It's written mostly in Irken, and I was hoping you could help me translate it."

An Irken journal? Why does that sound so familiar? Of course I knew of the journal; I'd even written a few entries of my own. But the mention of the journal sets off some sort of strange deja vu feeling, as if I've forgotten something important having to do with it.

After a moment, I realize I haven't answered Dib. "Oh, uh, yeah. Just bring it up here." I push my chair out too, and Gir runs to the couch, excited for no reason, as he usually is. The buzzing gets very slightly louder every once in awhile, causing my antennae to twitch as Dib goes down the living room chute to get the journal.

I sit down on the couch, and Gir flicks on the T.V, where he's been repeatedly watching the same episode of Mysterious Mysteries since I'd gotten home this evening. After just a minute, Dib returns with the journal, a purple leather book, with some strange twig-looking pattern on the outside cover. Again, that strange sense of deja vu rushes to the front of my mind as Dib sits down next to me. Immediately, Gir nuzzles into the space between us.

"I've marked a few of the pages that have interesting titles," Dib says, pointing to some stray papers sticking out of some of the pages, acting as bookmarks. "I translated pretty much all of the titles using a reference, but it was tedious."

I nod, flipping to the first marked page, one labeled as 'service drones'.

At first, I start reading in Irken. I mean, that's the language written in front of me, it's just instinct. Dib taps me on the shoulder, pointing to the notebook in his lap, where he's presumably going to be writing English. I shake my head to clear it, and then start reading over from the beginning- in English, this time.

"'Service drones are the lowest ranking of the Irken hierarchy. They are usually exceptionally short, and payed very little. There are many kinds of service drones such as janitorial drones and fast food... drones...'" I trail off, the words resonating with my previous deja vu. They remind me of when I was reprogrammed... but that seems to strike a chord too, sending another weird sensation through me. Not exactly the same memory... something similar.

Realizing that I've just stopped reading altogether, I continue translating. "'These jobs are given to Irkens of the lowest value, such as the shortest- as previously mentioned- and those who have committed felonies against the Irken empire and/or it's more respected citizens-'" I cut myself off again. The buzzing is so annoyingly loud now.

I don't know if it's the result of the buzzing, but the pressure in my chest grows slowly, and antennae start flitting around until the 'bubble' fills up and pops, just like before, unusually quickly.

Did you miss me?

"Zim," Dib says. "Zim, are you okay?"

"They're here~"

---

(Dib's P.O.V)

The light has drained from Zim's eyes once again, and when he speaks, it's in a singsong voice. He giggles lowly, and I'm suddenly aware of a low buzzing sound, which feels as though it's burrowing itself in my nerves and twisting them. I stand up and step back, not wanting to agitate Zim in this state.

"What's wrong?" Zim asks, though he doesn't seem concerned; he asks it as if he were a bully, pretending to be concerned as to whether his victim was okay. Tauntingly.

"Zim. It's okay," I say softly, trying to calm him down. He said I can keep the 'pressure' away when it's growing, but if it's already burst can he be stopped before it's done on it's own? "You're not you right now, but that's okay. That's okay, it'll go away. Do you want to go back to normal?"

Zim twitches slightly, as if registering my words. He hasn't released his Pak legs yet, which seems like a good sign. Usually they'd be out after only a few seconds. His eyes are wide open, almost looking innocent, and his antennae have lifted slightly from their previous state pressed against his head. This is good. I just need to keep him calm until this passes, and he won't attack.

Right?

Almost like a cat, Zim leans down and props himself up on all fours. However, he looks more like a gorilla, rearing back as if he's scared of me. Tentatively- and registering that it's probably a very stupid idea- I reach out my arm half way, fingers loosely clenched together. Zim eyes my hand, taking a few steps backward before finally crawling slowly over to me.

"This... this is not me?" His voice is a strange tangle of the unsettling low growl and his regular voice, which seems to indicate that he's between the states, ready for the strange animal-like other personality to fade away. "And you are... Dib. My Dib." My heart lifts as he says this, and I reach out my arm just a little bit further as he grabs limply toward one of my fingers.

"Yup, it's me," I continue softly, lowering my legs so that I'm in a sitting position. I want to look as un-intimidating as possible. "It's me, I'm right here. It's okay." I can see the highlights in Zim's eyes starting to slowly fade in, barely there, but you can just make out the dim circles if you look closely. He grabs my index finger in one of his tiny hands, staring at it intently.

"You... You are the one who... saved me. And I... I care... about... you." His words are spaced out, like he's not paying full attention to what he's saying, stopping to remember words between each breath. His head tilts, and he blinks slowly.

The other 'personality' in Zim seems to have different memories, because he doesn't to seem fully comprehend exactly who I am or what's happening. His eyebrows pull together slightly in confusion.

"Your hand is... so... much bigger than... mine." He grabs my ring finger with his other hand and twists my hand so that the palm is facing toward him. A slow wave of realization runs through his eyes. "Dib. You are... Dib. You are-"

Suddenly, the low buzzing noise pitches up, which causes Zim to grab at his antennae, squeezing his eyes shut. I can only imagine what he's hearing if it's this loud to me. But it's obviously agitating to him. How long until...?

As if on cue, Zim lunges toward me, hissing at the annoyance as he bats at my head roughly. I lift my arms to protect my head- I did just get out of the hospital- but it doesn't take long for Zim to hit something important enough to make my body shut down, causing me to black out.