Written on the spur of the moment, as most of my really philosphical things are.
This was originally intended to be a one-short, but it ened up going long, and if popular demand calls for it I'll make a second part. If not, it stays as is. I really like this for what it is, and even for what it isn't, if that's even possible.
Oh, yeah, and this isn't ZADR, if that's what your thinking at the end. It was NEVER intended that way... though I'm neutral on the subject, I'm not a slash writer (not brave enough to try it yet XD) But if you are dead set on taking it that way, go ahead. I don't mind it being thought of like that.
Sigh, a disclaimer is needed.
I do not own any Invader Zim characters, in any way shape or form. I WANT to, badly, but considering I don't have billions of dollars right at the moment I can't very well buy the rights from anyone, now, can I?
Enjoy this story. ENJOY IT! I COMMAND YOU!
It was a warm night. The moon was obscured by only a few stray clouds that wove their wispy way past, their pale gray forms driven by the light, cool wind that served only to keep the temperature of the surrounding air bearable. The leaves high atop the tress rustled, awaiting the sun that would show itself within the span of a few hours. The noise was the only sound in the darkness; even the night creatures were taking some time off to be comfortable in the peaceful atmosphere.
It was so much different from what usually went on. A stranger walking through at this hour would almost be able to think of the neighborhood as a pleasant place.
High above the ground, in one of the most expensive-looking houses that looked that way not in an aesthetic sense, but a technological one, a young boy slept, his dreams shifting from one form to the other until he no longer remembered nor cared what was dream and what was reality. His bed was plain, unadorned with what most normal young children would usually have, and his room, though large, was consciously bare of anything but a complicated, intricate computer system and the clutter around it. The only things that looked overly crowded were the walls, which had so many posters, news clippings, and random articles that it was nearly impossible to tell what color was painted beneath, or even if there was a color at all.
The boy moaned slightly, his hand rising and flipping away from him in a listless movement, the rest of his body following as he turned, his large skull burrowing into the pillow as if to escape some unpleasant knowledge. As he moved, his hair shifted, revealing a long, almost comical lock that stood straight upwards from the front of his head, slicking backwards in a long scythe that astonishingly seemed to remain this way without the help of any type or form of hair gel.
Another troubled groan escaped him, and he curled into a ball, the noise he made reminiscent of sobbing as his head shook back and forth, his closed eyes beginning to show tears forming at the corners as the nightmare held him in its grip, refusing to let him wake from his slumber. The minutes ticked by, shown brightly by the clock on the nightstand whose red numbed glowed and flickered in the shadows, and the nightmare didn't subside. It was as if the boy was squirming in the grip of some evil specter, unable to wake though he much wanted to.
Suddenly, as the number on the clocked switched from 2:29 to 2:30, his eyes opened with a movement so fast that to one watching it would seen that he had been awake all along, their color a brilliant, warm gold that were filled with fear and confusion, haunted by the ghosts of years of strife. Slowly, as if afraid the calm around him would shatter, the boy lifted his arm and reached to his nightstand, fingers fumbling for a moment before coming to rest on a pair of glasses, their lenses large and bright, flashing in the moonlight with a reflection of life. He put them on with a long, drawn out sigh, his gaze roving around the room until it reached the clock, hesitating there long enough to assimilate the information before the boy lowered his gaze, looking at his hands and flexing them, marveling at how different they seemed in the dark, when things that were so clouded in the daylight suddenly became frighteningly clear and dreams became real.
Distantly, he thought of his spy equipment, locked away in his expansive closet that was hidden on the opposite side of the room, covered in so many posters that only the door handle protruding from a mass of articles showed that the barrier was not a wall, but with another tired sigh he rejected the thought, instead moving just enough that the light of the moon reached his eyes. The boy looked up, looked at the cold, impersonal face that had become a symbol of the night, a symbol of mystery and power, feeling lost and weak under its glare. He was tired, so tired. The effort that he put into each day, the things that he strived for… in the dark all his exploits seemed meaningless and trivial. Under the cold face of the moon, his mind expanded, almost to the point that his abnormally large head could no longer hold it. For one brief, fleeting moment, he saw what it all meant, but that moment was gone in an instant, leaving an emptiness inside, one that he couldn't fill even if he worked towards that and only that for the rest of his natural life, however long or short that span might be.
He stood, his short, ten-year-old frame rising to its full height and more as the scythe of hair on his head rose into place, making him seem taller than he actually was. With his sad, tawny gaze, he looked at the plain door to his room, seeming to hesitate for a split second before turning away, a look almost akin to pain in his bi-spectacled eyes before he lifted himself to the windowsill, long black trench coat swaying in the breeze that was allowed in through the wide open window. He looked down towards the ground, seeing the fence around the front yard glowing, crackling and sizzling slightly in a sound that he had grown used to through his many years of staying here.
The long wire that he had attached to the side of the house for just this purpose caught his gaze, but the boy dismissed it with a casual turn of his head, again regarding the dark curve of the ground below, the bushes that would break his fall, and he jumped. His small, light body hit the bushes with a rustle and a thud just loud enough to make him wince resulted from his hitting the ground, but as he stood carefully, cringing at the many small pains resulting from the movement, no lights came on in the house, and no authoritive voice called to him, telling him to go to sleep 'or else'. He let out a breath, and using all of the knowledge he had gained over years of sneaking out, clambered past the fence and onto the dark street, his feet taking him he knew not where, his mind wandering as the pull of the moon above made him restless.
It was no surprise to him when he came to himself standing before the unearthly glow of a freakish, green walled house, the unnerving eyes of the lawn gnomes seeming to watch him as he looked up indifferently, taking in once more the familiar sight of the slanted, shutter windows, the large blue door that would have been more appropriate on a bathroom entrance, and the various signs posted in the dirt that read slogans of how much the resident loved Earth. The boy snorted, seeing the irony with a new light, and had to hold in an amused chuckle as he narrowed his eyes, walking boldly forward into enemy territory, the night's power seeming to control him as he numbly rose his hand, rapping it lightly on the door.
Before he could even pull his hand away, it flew open, and he was faced with the threatening blue-violet glare that had come to be so familiar to him over the past few months. That glare narrowed to dangerous slits as the owner saw him, green skin furrowing at the brow. The boy looked at the other, eyes blank, mind still numb and void of any idea of what to say. For a long moment they stood like this, and in the moment the boy again took in the appearance of the one facing him, noting the stiff, glossy hair that was molded into an Elvis-like style, the defiant, rigid stance and splayed feet, the hands, always gloved, balled into fists as their owner tried to puzzle out the sudden arrival of his mortal enemy on his doorstep, seemingly harmless. The boy almost grinned again, but the overwhelming exhaustion that had been with him ever since he had woken prevented it; the other was on the verge of asking the question, he knew. He saw it in the way his eye twitched, the way his gaze faltered for just an instant, presumably bothered by the noise of the television in the background but more disturbed by the lack of noise from the scythe haired boy.
"YOU!" He cried suddenly, his hand pointing directly at the boy, who stood as if nothing was happening, not even flinching from the sheer volume of the word, "Why are you at the doorstep of the great and mighty ZIIIIM! I could destroy you now, Dib, and my mission would go on smoothly! What plan have you, earth-stink! TELL ZIM!"
"I… don't know, Zim," the boy, Dib, replied, looking troubled for the first time since he had snuck out of his house, letting his feet lead him here, to the door of the alien he had been trying for so long to expose. He looked up at the moon, gaze searching, and again he found that sudden, fleeting understanding that reminded him of why he was here, why he had come, "Wait… I… I think I know…"
"Out with it!" barked the green-skinned creature, "ZIM doesn't have all day… er… NIGHT!"
"I'm tired, Zim," Dib replied, ignoring the interruption of the alien with the ease of long practice, "Tired of fighting, tired of people, tired of… of life," his words choked slightly as he almost came to a stop, his eyes lowering as he closed them, expression pained and the knowledge that he was speaking to an audience that didn't care reverberating in his head, "I… I think I need a favor, Zim."
"YOU? YOU, the Dib-monkey, ask a favor of the might ZIM?" Zim snapped, eyes going wide and then narrow again, finally disappearing altogether as he tilted his head back in a vicious and derisive laugh. Dib stood through all of this, knowing that his mind had been right, that Zim didn't and would never care one way or the other.
"I'll give you something in return," he said, shrugging, his face a mask of nonchalance. Zim stopped laughing suddenly, his eyes narrowed in disbelief.
"ZIM needs nothing from YOU!" he said, arm gesturing briskly toward the boy, "What is it?"
Dib narrowed his own eyes in thought, "My lab," he said, sighing in defeat. It wasn't like he was going to need it anyway. He saw the Irken's eyes go wide for a moment, and couldn't help but smile in his mind, "and… and you can have the Earth, Zim. I'm… I'm tired of it all. I don't want to bother fighting you anymore."
The Irken glared, and Dib could tell he was too prideful to take his offer. He sighed inaudibly as the next words showed he was correct.
"You PATHETIC human. ZIM HAS a lab, and ZIM HAS the Earth!" he sneered, gesturing behind him grandly, though the only view that Dib saw was a piece of junk robot, sitting mesmerized in front of an overly loud television and stuffing various items of food and electronics into its mouth.
"Really?" Dib couldn't stop himself from taunting the alien like old times, "I don't see your name on the Earth… or your lab, for that matter."
"Stupid DIB-STINK!" Zim retorted, though his eyes shifted marginally, a nervous look passing towards his house as if he really was considering branding his name on it, "Begone with you! Foolish human!"
"Just do me the favor, Zim," Dib said tiredly, glancing upwards as a lofty cloud obscured the moon's face. His mind both welcomed and cried out at the darkness that enveloped the Earth for a moment, but he was also bathe din the glow created by Zim's house, and as such the darkness could not reach him. The boy looked back at Zim, staring right into his eyes, "You won't regret it."
"FINE!" Zim cried, exasperated, "I will TAKE PITY on your useless, GIGANTIC head and do you ONE favor!"
Dib smiled for real, then, not letting his fatigue at the world take away this one moment of triumph for him as he turned slightly, looking back into the sky and noticing how very beautiful the stars were before he turned back, glasses flashing slightly. Zim looked perturbed, and Dib wondered why; perhaps it was because he had not responded to the familiar insult with his automatic reply of 'my head's not big!'? Dib, in fact, no longer cared if his head was or wasn't large for his age.
"Good," he said finally, his voice low and resigned as he nodded, "Zim, I want you to… to…" the words stuck in his throat.
"Tell me, Dib-stink! The sooner we get it over with the sooner I can take over this rotten ball of FILTH and get back to being the amazing ZIM!"
"Kill me, Zim!" Dib cried, his eyes desperate as he stepped forward, hair waving above his head and hands clenching before falling back, expression clouding with too many emotions to count, "Kill me…" he almost sobbed the words, "Kill me, please!"
Zim merely stared, too shocked to respond to the unexpected request. Dib found that he couldn't stop the words coming from his mouth now that he had asked for his favor.
"You… you don't understand what it's like Zim, to have every day, EVERY DAY, go by with no one caring, no one wanting you alive. I used to think things might get better, but they… they've gotten worse! No one listens to what I say, even when I'm right! My own family barely knows of my existence! I am TIRED, Zim! Tired of LIFE! I am tired of having no one believe me, I am tired of being the only one on Earth who has an opinion anymore!" he stopped suddenly, catching his breath and looking the stricken Zim straight in the eye, "Zim, I know that you're the only one who hates the Earth as much as I do. Help me on this; do me the favor. You can take everything I own, use it to accomplish your mission… just… just kill me."
Zim's pride answered before his mind caught up, "ZIM needs no help in accomplishing- WAIT! You hate the Earth?"
Dib nodded.
"YOU STUPID, ANNOYING, DUMB-" Zim lapsed into various grunts and gestures, and a few words that Dib didn't recognize but was sure were very strong curses. Finally, he seemed to become coherent again, "-IDIOTIC HUMAN! If you hated the Earth, WHY TRY TO STOP THE AMAZING ZIIIM!"
"Because I wasn't tired until now," Dib responded, still waiting, "I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused you, Zim, but… you're the only one who can do this for me. I know I can't."
Zim stared at Dib for a long, long moment, his expression wavering from disgust, to curiosity, to anger, and then, finally, to fear as his thick head finally assimilated the fact that his enemy was basically throwing himself at his feet, begging to be killed. Dib's eyes, usually so bright and vengeful, pleaded with him, and there Zim could see the tiredness behind them. Just seeing it made the Irken feel as if he was drowning in a pit of misery, and he quickly averted his eyes, his gaze cold as almost without conscious thought a spider leg slipped out of his Pak, end glowing as the laser powered up, preparing the slice into his enemies heart and end the battle once and for all.
Then, his expression wavered, and Zim gulped, sweat pouring down his brow as he tried to will into existence the simple thought that would release the laser, thus ending Dib's life. With an audible snap, the spider leg retreated back into his Pak, and Zim stumbled backwards into the house. The door slammed before him, coming inches from Dib's stricken face. The boy outside lost it, bringing up his fists and pounding the door for all he was worth, crying as he screamed curses at the Irken within.
"Too easy, Dib," Zim said in a surprisingly normal voice, standing with his back to the door, eyes closed as he tried to regain his composure, "Come back tomorrow night if you really want to die."
Dib pounded the door one last time, breath coming in ragged gasps and scythe-like hair falling over his face limply, and collapsed on the cold cement, unable to move as he lay there, tears streaming from his eyes. The lawn gnomes didn't bother him, and for that much Dib was grateful. The moon's icy face looked down upon him, her rays cold and unfeeling, but her power unquestioned, and Dib's sobs faded, replaced by troubled dreams and nightmares of the real word, which was the worst that the young boy could imagine. His still, limp form on the doorstep curled again into a ball, trying to keep them at bay as he silently fought a losing battle.
Inside the house, deep underground, a screen displayed the black, shuddering form. A pair of liquid red eyes watched, troubled and angry, as their owner glared at the screen, his own mind cursing as he tried ad failed to imagine actually killing the boy.
"Curse you, Dib," Zim hissed, "Curse you!"
Thank you for reading this story. If you want a second part, please review and request so, but try not to make just a demand, if you please. I like hearing your opinions on what I've written so far, too.
Hope to hear from you.
