Double Crossed (Invader Zim)

Chapter 3

I somehow manage to push Zim off of me, and pin him down, holding his arms with mine and pinning his legs with my knees. "Zim, what the fuck? Why are you attacking me? How are there two of you?"

"You know well why I'm attacking you, you ungrateful human pig!"Zim spits at me, struggling under my grip. I wipe the spit off with my shoulder.

"Zim, calm the hell down! Tell me what happened!"

"Your pathetic 'friendship' ploy won't work now that I know your true intentions, Dib,"

"I have no clue what you're talking about! Just goddamn tell me, Zim! Geez!"

"The table! That stupid 'autopsy' thing you always speak of! You can't fool me, you're the only one that knows!"

"Listen, I get why you would think that, but I swear it wasn't me! How can I prove it to you? Tell me and I'll do anything?"

"Let me rip your throat open! That'll make us even," Zim growls, trying to push me off.

"Okay, maybe not anything," I say. "Listen, if you hide somewhere while... Um... Zim, comes downstairs, and I can do something then, and then you'll trust me, but we're running out of time, so you need to goddamn cooperate."

Zim rolls his eyes, but stops struggling. Reluctantly, I get up and let his arms and legs go. He gets to his knees and wipes at the spots where my limbs were. "One wrong move, and you are dead," he snarls, pointing a finger at me, which is still gloved for whatever reason.

"You can just hide in there," I suggest, pointing towards the dresser at the front door. "Y'know, so you can hear us."

Zim huffs and rolls his eyes, but walks over and climbs into the box, closing the lid carefully. "This better be worth my time," I hear him sigh from inside, his voice muffled.

I sit down, trying to look normal. I can't let the stress get to me or Zim- well, present, doesn't-want-to-rip-my-throat-out Zim- will think something's up. But it doesn't help that I still don't know what I'm going to do when he actually gets here.

Behind me, I hear some shuffling, and I turn around to see Zim, with a blanket curled around him, covering his head as well so that only his face is visible. His cheeks are still a bit blue, but I keep my focus on the task at hand.

When Zim sits down there's a little poff sound due to the blanket around him. He pulls his legs up and crosses them, covering them with the blanket too.

"So, uh, is it usually warm on Irk, or...?" I try my best to sound normal, hoping to get a conversation going that might give me a few ideas on what to do.

"Warmer than your tundra of a living room, yes," he answers, and I can see him snuggle a little further into the blanket.

"So, uh... Your Pak," I say awkwardly. "Um... It's like... You?" I almost facepalm. That was the most horribly structured sentence I've ever spoken.

"Yes. It has all of my personality and knowledge in it."

"And you can just add things manually?"

"Yes, our technology is far too advanced for humans to comprehend," Zim boasts.

I risk a glance over at the dresser, where Zim's eye is poking out, glaring. I can feel my hands getting sweaty with anxiety.

I run my hand through my hair, and a drop of blood drops onto my shirt. My head perks up and I look at my wrist. The cuts are still dripping. I wipe at them and it comes away on my fingers. Suddenly, I get an idea.

"Zim, can you do something for me?"

I can almost feel his confusion. "Um... I suppose?"

Reluctantly, I hold out my good arm. "Uh... I... I need you to cut my arm." It takes every fibre of my being not to pull my arm back. I force an awkward smile.

"Is this a 'friendship' thing?" Zim asks.

More like a life or death kind of thing. "Oh, uh, yeah," I mutter. "Something like that."

Zim shrugs and grabs my wrist with one of his hands. It seems that he almost hesitates before pulling his arm back towards himself, making the same deep cuts. He raises an eyebrow as the cuts begin to bleed.

"Human friendship is strange. Does everyone do this with their 'friends' on Earth?" Zim asks, unlatching his fingers from my arm.

I flinch as the air strikes the new wounds. "Uh, not everyone."

Zim stares at me strangely. "Okay then."

"I should probably clean these," I say, standing up. I don't know why I hadn't thought to do this sooner. "I'll be right back. Uh... keep watching if you want, I guess." Zim nods, turning back to the TV. He crosses his arms, and his hands seem tense. I glance over at the dresser again, beckoning future Zim to come out and follow me. Quietly, he lifts the lid and climbs out slowly.