It was never the intention of Zim to care for anyone. Zim needed no one, Zim wanted no one. Zim lived for himself and the glory of the Irken Empire, nothing else.
So when that Empire laughed in my face, there was nothing left to live for.
How many hours I paced in the labs cannot be counted. Zim had choices, so many choices to make. No, I knew what I would do, even from the beginning, I knew. But part of me fought it, fought the idea of my unmourned, forgettable death.
The diciding factor was the throbbing ache in the heart of Zim. Such feelings were long ago ruled unnecessary and ordered suppressed through PAK filters. Concrete evidence of my ultimate defection.
I wandered out to the yard. There waved the stupid "I heart Earth" flag. The dead-eyed flamingoes and fish decorations stared at me accusingly. I glared back. My choice was honorable enough under the circumstances. The gnomes would stay, loyally guarding the secrets of the first and last Earth-bound Irken.
My eyes fell on the Dib, standing just outside the fence, gaping. Blinking, I realized I had gone out without my disguise. Simultaneously I discovered that it didn't matter to me.
Dib recovered first, snapping as many photos as he could. I merely growled, clenching my fists and pushing past him. He could release all the photos he wanted, in a few hours it wouldn't matter. Spotting his chance, he followed me.
I passed many hyumans. Some looked at Zim strangely, but said nothing. Most were too busy hurrying someplace to even notice Zim. The Dib's mouth was hanging open in disbelief at his race's stupidity.
Leaping onto the nearest bus-bench, he waved his arms and screamed at the top of his lungs, "See? See! I'm not crazy, it's an ALIEN! Right there, in front of you!"
Everyone stopped and stared at him, then me. Someone chuckled. Another called out, "Nice costume! I want the number of the store." The people smiled and nodded, reassured that it was just a hoax pulled by a couple of kids with too much time to spare. Nobody saw the green kid slip away from the confounded paranoid that was the only hyuman in the world to really know.
I did not care where I was going or how long it took. All Zim desired was a quiet, private place to self-destruct.
House past house past house, how many houses were there on this street? Too many.
Something cried.
Unconsciously I logged the miles I'd walked. Five. Ten. Seventeen miles.
Something cried.
The planet had shifted and dark fell. It mattered not to Zim, my ocular implants allowed me to see as well in the dark as during the day.
Someone cried.
I halted, turning my head to locate the source. It came from an alley sandwiched between a dwelling and a nourishment center. Curiosity overtook my despair and I slipped into the alley.
The stench of hyuman waste and refuse was an acrid assault on Zim's acute senses, and I nearly turned back. One more scent floated on the air; blood. Hyuman blood, and much of it. Zim had the occasion once to smell hyuman blood once during a fight with the Dib-monkey. I had dragged my claws down his arm hard, and a bright red liquid emerged. Dib seemed a bit dazed, then screamed and passed out. The smell was disgusting from the Dib, and it was disgusting here, but it meant a hyuman was hurt.
I shrugged. What did I care? The whole planet could go to flirk for all Zim cared. I turned to leave when my eye caught sight of something moving near the end of the alley. Still curious, I approached cautiously.
A trembling, sobbing heap of hyuman flesh lay on a pile of rotting garbage. Much of the blood came from this being, seeing as there was no one else in the alley. It seemed rather small. Zim extended a spiderleg in ginger disgust and turned the rag-clothed lump over.
Wide, almond-shaped brown eyes looked up and locked with mine. Raven black hair, tangled and unbrushed, floated around her head like a space helmet. Her face was drawn and gaunt with hunger. Her mouth opened in fear of the strange being in front of her, and I backstepped, shocked.
A child!
Not more than five Earth-years old, the hyuman was little more than a smeet! I approached again, something about her drew me. Terrified, she turned and began climbing the garbage heap, but I reached out a spiderleg and drew her down to me. She was whimpering and chattering something in a gibberish language I could not understand. Frowning, I set her down on the ground, where she huddled, cowering. I bent down and put my hand on her head, gently, trying to reassure her I meant her no harm. She shrank back, as if expecting a blow, but as none came she looked up, confused.
My own actions confused me. I am Zim! My thoughts cried in mortification. Zim does not stoop to even speak to hyumans, let alone touch the filthy creatures. Yet even as I thought this, I found myself stroking her hair and murmuring to her, "It is alright, smeet, it will be alright. You are safe."
Gasping, she crumpled to the ground. Only then did Zim realize that she was quickly losing precious bloods. I snatched her up from the ground and, extending my spiderlegs fully, took off down the street toward my base. Half-way to my base, my logic caught up with my mind. I knew the smeet was dying, and that, with my limited knowledge of a hyuman's pathetically weak shell, I could not lengthen her life.
A familiar ache gripped my heart. My spiderlegs clicking, I sidled off the road and sat in a hyuman garden. All manner of plants and flowers grew there, exotic and foreign to Zim. No plant-life was allowed to grow on Irk, but they seemed to flourish unchecked on this forsaken rock.
Her life-bloods leaked from several wounds on her body. Closer examination revealed many flesh-bruises and bone-breaks. The ache grew stronger, and Zim, for the first time, knew sorrow.
No one was around, it was nighttime. With no one to watch my breach of Invaderliness, I gathered the smeet into my arms and began rocking her gently, softly singing to her an Irken lullaby I had heard sung over my incubation tube. My words were as foreign to her as hers were to me, but she understood the comforting tone. Her breath rattled in her bony chest, and her tiny frame was wracked with coughs. I winced, thinking of all the germs covering this child, but continued to hold her.
Her breathing was shallow now, and came in short gasps. She never took her eyes from mine, gazing in wonder and bewilderment. I felt her heartbeat grow fainter, and a smile crossed her face. Then, in broken English, she whispered, "You… my... green angel?"
I supported her bobbing head, nodding silently. I could not speak, my throat was obstructed.
She struggled to breathe, and pulled my head down to her little mouth, whispering, "I… like… you… eyes…" She sucked in a breath quite suddenly, then released it. Her eyes rolled back and her body relaxed. All I held in my arms was an empty shell.
I heard a twig snap, and glanced up. There he stood. He had followed me all day and I hadn't even known. He stared at the child in my arms, then brought his gaze up to me. I saw confusion and bewilderment all over his face. I shook my head slowly, he would never understand this, this other side of Zim. It was foreign to him, just as Zim's existence was.
I stood and strode purposefully down the street, bearing the shell of the smeet whose name I had not had the chance to know. I stroked her hair as the warmth began to seep from her shell, and hummed an ancient Irken lullaby.
There would be no self-destructing that night.