Summary: Continuation of "Taking the Pain and Shooting It Up". Zim returns some time after "the incident". Gaz must decide whether or not to accept him in her life as a passing phase or an irrevocable fact.
Disclaimer: I only own what my mother gave me. Unfortunately, there is no mention of a perfectly shaped booty in this story. Yet.
8
Death gives you a reason to feel. It also gives you a reason not to feel. This contrast has dogged me for my entire existence. And so, in a fit of confusion, my resolve was to feel one emotion so intensely that the others would be rendered meaningless: anger. A passionate, uncontrollable hatred towards existence that absorbed all other feelings.
It was like that for as long as I could remember. But his eyes displayed an emotion foreign and yet familiar to me. Those eyes, red and glimmering, haunted my dreams.
His form, silhouetted by flames and darkened by smoke, was the last I saw of him. Years had passed since then. Enough to attempt to move on but... here I was again, standing in front of an empty lot that was once occupied by an oddly colored house with tentacle like appendages digging into the earth and its neighbors' homes.
I gazed into the sky above that lot feeling, for once, solemn and thoughtful. The city lights had burned away all potential traces of starlight with the exception of one bright, shining spiral that seemed to be growing closer as I stared at it.
"The hell?" I murmured, eyes wide as I realized that it was indeed coming closer; its form suddenly like that of an oncoming semi.
I stood rooted to the ground as the roaring sound of the object's speed hit my ears just as the thing made contact with the ground a good number of feet away. Wind whipped my purple locks around my face as I squinted against the dust and dirt.
Steam rose as something inside the thing clicked. It opened, releasing a fog from its probably burned out insides. A figure, tall and slender rose from its depths. It shook, cackling as it rose its arms high above its head and clawed at the air. This could only be described as a pose of an almighty victor.
The laughter struck me like a bullet through the chest. I took a step forward, my boots hesitantly sliding across the kicked up soil.
"Zim?" I called out, not so much asking as stating a fact.
The figure whipped around to face me. The white glow of zipper like teeth greeted me much as the Cheshire cat's did Alice on her first venture to Wonderland. The grin spread wide as the figure leaped down and sprinted towards me.
We collided, my arms held fast by gloved claws. There he was, mere inches away and staring at me. He was the same as ever; his skin still that unfathomable pigment of green, his eyes still that infuriating shade of ruby red. I would have hit him hard across the face, but his hands held me fast.
"Little Gaz," he whispered gleefully, "here is your Zim, come home at last!" He started to lean forward into me.
I kicked him in the shin. His face contorted as he fell to his knees in front of me, hands still grasping my arms. He looked up into my face and gave a weary smile.
"Took you damn well long enough," I spat. Then, in a moment of unforeseeable tenderness, I brushed my thumb against his cheek and placed my forehead onto his. "Took you long enough," I said again, my breath ghosting his lips. His eyes widened to saucers.
I had that effect on people.
8
Pause.
Continue?