Author's Notes: This is part three of a round robin story for the Deviantart club Zim-Tales. Though it's only part of a longer story, I specifically wrote it trying to make it as coherent as possible as a one-shot so that I could publish it here, since I don't have time for an independent IZ holiday fic this year. Hopefully I did a good job there; I think everything is pretty understandable, if a bit odd sans the other writers' contributions.
This story is set in an AU where Zim comes to Earth as an Exile and Dib, as you'll see, is rather different than in the series. I totally give props to Worldismyne (who as far as I know has no account here) and DomaYuset (MissDomaYuset here) for writing the first two parts and developing the concept before I had a chance to do this. Their parts along with mine can be found here: http:/joemerl .deviantart. com/art/White-Christmas-Part-3-189914332 (fill in the spaces).
Hope you enjoy!
Skoodge had landed on Earth a little over one year ago, shortly after the holiday humans called "Thanks-giving."
He had made no attempt to blend in or hide himself the way he had when he was an Invader on Blorch— instead, Skoodge had simply landed his Voot Cruiser in the middle of a city parking lot, strolled out, and announced to the growing crowd of onlookers that he was an exile from the Irken Empire, that he came in peace, and that he was wondering if they would please allow him to stay on their planet for awhile? The closest thing he guile he used a hologram to render his PAK invisible—after all, the inhabitants of this planet could be warlike savages, and "don't let random aliens see your PAK" was the number one rule of Invader training. (And one that only a total moron would ever have forgotten.)
As Skoodge had smiled nervously at the stunned crowd a collection of flashing land-based vehicles had driven up, and within minutes he had been arrested for piloting a "stolen weather balloon" through a crowded city and was taken to a hospital for his "horrible skin condition" and "severe pinkeye." He tried to explain himself again at trial, only to be labeled "delusional" and sent to a place called the Crazy House for Boys.
He sighed now, looking out the asylum window at the snowy grounds outside. Then he turned and glanced back at the crowded dining room. Pretty decorations had been added sparsely on the walls, and today the room was filled not only with patients and doctors with numerous other humans, eating with his insane cellmates and smiling despite the harsh situation. It was another human holiday today, "Christmas," and everybody's families had come to visit, bringing presents and food. The whole dreary facility had a sort of festive mood— subdued festivity, granted, but still nice. Of course, Skoodge himself had no one—he was the only Irken on this whole planet, after all.
Then Skoodge spotted one other boy, also sitting alone on the other side of the room.
This boy was called Dib, and he was usually alone—not by choice, because he would always try to talk to people (or yell really loudly, actually), but nobody here liked him at all. Zat one vas really crazy, one of the three different boys called Napoleon had explained to Skoodge, and zometimes 'e could turn downright violent. (This was right after Skoodge had first arrived at the asylum, when Dib had instantly recognized that he was an alien and tried to tell the others. Skoodge had thought that this was a good thing at first, until Dib was dismissed as crazy and flew into a rage, attacking Skoodge for using "mind-control technology" to foil detection.)
Remembering that incident vaguely, Skoodge nevertheless rose from his seat by the window and went to sit in the empty space next to Dib. Dib looked up, glaring at the Skoodge's guileless, totally undisguised face.
"…What do you want, alien?" the Earth-child hissed, before slurping another spoonful of their festive Christmas Day gruel.
"I just noticed that you don't have any parental units visiting you today. How come?" Skoodge asked, his limited experience with humans giving him remarkably little sense of tact.
Dib scoffed. "Because my dad never comes to visit, that's why," he sneered. "He didn't come last year either." The boy looked away for a moment, then back to Skoodge, his gaze only growing darker. "I know what you are, you know."
"Yeah, I know!" Skoodge grinned, completely missing the threat implicit in Dib's words. "And that's so great, too! Could you keep telling that to the doctors for me? I keep trying to tell them myself, but they say that like three other people here also claim to be aliens, and— "
Dib stared as Skoodge kept talking. The alien made no attempt to hide the truth from him, and this was a real alien, not one of the other crazies in this hellhole who just thought they were a Marsoid or a werewolf or the ghost of Dracula's cat…cautiously, suspiciously, Dib interjected with a question, asking what planet Skoodge was from, and the alien answered easily, not just with a name ("Irk") but with detailed coordinates and scientific data as soon as Dib pressed him. And it was sound scientific data, it actually sounded plausible, and what didn't Skoodge was able to explain with information far more advanced than anything even Dib's father could have come up with…
As the other patients spent the day with their families Skoodge and Dib talked, and kept talking after all of the visitors had left.
When Dib went to bed that night and stared up at the ceiling of his cell, he thought of the previous Christmas, alone at the Crazy House, no family, no presents, nothing. And Christmas at home had never been much better, since Dad was either always working or lavishing attention on Gaz, ignoring him.
He closed his eyes, thinking that this had been his best Christmas ever.
Dib kept talking to Skoodge after that day, trying to figure out how to use this discovery—their combined efforts to get the doctors to believe that Skoodge wasn't human all failed, and to Dib's annoyance Skoodge didn't want to break out of the asylum, explaining that doing something like that gone bad for him once (an event commemorated on his homeworld as "Horrible Painful Overload Day, Part 2"). Dib kept pressing him, though, but even more than that he kept pressing Skoodge about other stuff—he was fascinated by Irken culture, especially the whole philosophy of Invading, which was hardly foreign to Earth culture but apparently not generally encouraged. Dib wanted to know about Skoodge's home planet, his spaceship, and technology, science, weapons, all of which Skoodge was smart enough to know about even as he was too dumb to realize that it was information he probably shouldn't share.
Besides, Dib could get a bit testy if he asked a question Skoodge couldn't answer, or tried to ignore him when he brought up escaping again, and that wasn't even counting the seemingly-random fits he would go on about his father abandoning him in this place. It was better not to tick Dib off. He was Skoodge's only friend on this planet, after all, so he was willing to answer his endless questions. He even began to make bits and pieces of Irken technology for him, as best he could from spare things he found around the asylum…
…but Dib kept asking for more, all as he tinkered with what Skoodge gave him, actually managing to understand it, even improve it…
Finally, one day around March, Dib realized Skoodge was never going to help him escape, and he snapped. He attacked Skoodge, not in one of the common areas with people around, but in private where nobody could stop him. Skoodge tried to defend himself— he pulled a laser gun out of nowhere (i.e., his invisible PAK), but Dib quickly disabled him with a simple glass of water before ripping into him, bludgeoning him bloody with mere toys and books he had picked up around the asylum before taking the gun and using it to melt the bars on the window.
Dib spared Skoodge a quick look back just as he was about to make his escape. The little Irken was lying against the wall, severely burnt and bloody and gasping for air. Dib wondered vaguely if the he would survive. Not that it really mattered.
Turning back around Dib slipped out of the window, vanishing into the chilly night.
Dib stood in the middle of a ruined and deserted street now, body trembling in the chill of a snowy December morning, hand in his inner coat pocket, wrapped around that same laser gun he had used all those months ago. Behind him he had a giant tank, more advanced than any other weapon on Earth, but temporarily frozen. His eyes slid momentarily to the remote ten feet away from him, then back up to the being who had knocked it out of his grasp.
This…new alien. He had to be— he had fake, human-looking eyes, fake hair, but otherwise he was just a skinnier version of Skoodge, green and earless and noseless. He even had the same red uniform, the same design that Dib was now wearing in blue. He was almost certainly an Irken—was he an exile like Skoodge? Skoodge had said that most Irkens came to other planets as conquerors— why would this one want to stop him from destroying this stupid city?
Zim stared back at Dib, or more specifically, on that hand hidden in his coat pocket. His entire body was tense, including those weird spider legs that Dib didn't know quite what to make of. His hidden antennae picked up the sounds of the police cars approaching, and he wondered—what was Dib going to do? And how would he hold him off until those Earthen defense forces here to help him?
Dib's eyes shifted away again, trying to think. He could try to kill this alien—but then, the police would get him. He didn't have time, he didn't have a plan for this—
His hand shifted in his coat to another pocket. He slowly brought out a round metal ball, pressing a large red button on its top. Zim flinched, unsure what would happen.
"We'll finish this another time, alien," Dib sneered.
Suddenly the ball went flying, and Zim threw up his gloved hands to shield his precious, precious Zim-head— the orb exploded in midair, but there was no blast, only a blinding flash of light, and when Zim rubbed his contacts clear Dib was gone, though the remote remained on the ground a few feet away. Zim looked around wildly—a miniaturized teleporter? It was the only explanation he could think of, but how could a human—?
Zim bent down and picked up the remote, examining it. He idly began to press a button, not even stopping to think what might happen—
"STOP RIGHT THERE!"
Zim jumped and spun around, just as a squad of humans in blue uniforms came forward, pointing what looked like primitive dark gray laser blasters right at him. Behind them came Professor Membrane, the human whom he had been staying with, his eyes widening behind his goggles as he took Zim in.
Zim blinked, looking from them to the remote control in his hand, then back up at the tank and the destroyed city street. His green face turned pale, and he quickly hid the remote behind his back, flashing a large and obviously insincere grin.
"Heh-heh…this isn't what it looks like."
Dib growled as he stormed through his underground lair, mind still reeling from the day's events.
The metallic lab was filled with machines, bizarre constructions of both human and Irken technology. Many were broken or half-finished, but quite a few actually worked or were close to it functioning order. There were also, incongruously, Christmas decorations everywhere. Colorful streamers, bits of holly, a small and sparsely-decorated tree beside the plasma blaster—all stolen at laser-point from a local department store, and all meant to give the lair a festive air and boost Dib's unendingly irascible morale.
Dib wanted to be jolly this Christmas. If only that little alien Grinch hadn't ruined his plans today…
He threw himself into the chair in front of his main computer terminal. He had lost the tank. There had been no way to teleport it with him, and in the haste that he had had to flee…and worst, either that alien or the authorities—or both—were going to be able to take it apart now, or use it to their advantage. Dib would need a new plan now, and one that took that into account…
The boy sighed, suddenly exhausted, and leaned back in his chair, his eyes drooping. It wasn't even noon yet and he wanted to go to bed—he had been up all last night, planning plans that had all been wasted…he forced his eyes open, turning his chair to look back at the room. His eyes settled on his Christmas tree, its little lights blinking in a perpetual rhythm.
He thought of his Christmases back home, back when he had a home. He thought back to that first Christmas at the Crazy House, when everybody else had had family visit, and Dib had done nothing all day but sulk and snarl at their happiness. It was so unfair, that everyone had had family to visit them, except for Dib, when he was the only one who wasn't even supposed to be there, and they all spent every moment making his life a living hell.
But mostly he thought back to last Christmas, that Christmas with Skoodge. Back when he had finally found somebody who believed him, proof of alien life, and a treasure trove of information that he could use to finally break out of that injustice that had categorized his life.
That had been his best Christmas ever, when he finally found what he needed to conquer this miserable little world.
A mad, crooked grin grew on Dib's face. Feeling renewed he turned and went back to his work, typing furiously as he analyzed what step to take now.
His plans would proceed on schedule, Dib thought.
This Christmas was going to be even better than last year's.
Because by this Christmas, this whole planet was going to finally be his.
A/N: ...Yeah, hopefully that ending isn't as cliffhanging for you as I intended it to be. ^^; Though you can feel free to come to Zim-Tales on and read the other parts.
Anyway, happy holidays, everyone, and I hope you enjoyed! :-D