A/N: The break certainly has been lovely but it is nice to get back in the
fanfic writing game. I hope you all missed me and if you didn't, well, I
hope you'll miss my absence. June marked the one-year anniversary of my
entrance into the Zim fanfic fandom. One year of people building their
trust, their mistrust, their hatred, their judgments, their opinions, their
likes, their dislikes, and their views of my writing and I.
I'm hoping this fic changes all of that.
And if it doesn't- it's a free country. Flames are as welcome as complements.
I'd like to thank my two betas, Crimson Obsession and Opalescent Tear, for their constant dedication to our friendship. And I would also like to dedicate this fic to both of them.
Change of Pace
For Tif and Meg
Part One- Lived
/I asked myself "was I content" with the world that I once cherished,
Did it bring me to this darkened place to contemplate my perfect future
I will not stand nor utter words against this tide of hate
Losing sight of what and who I was again I can see that you're losing me
I always tried to keep myself tied to this world
But I know where this is leading.../ -VNV Nation; 'Epicentre'
What else can be said about the world that hasn't been said already? It's a place full of pain, full of torture. It is a place with pleasure, with joy. There is sorrow. There is hope. The world is not one thing; it is all things. No distinct black, and no distinct white. Always tinted, slightly tainted with the greys of inconsistency. And it is this inconsistency that acts as fuel for human beings to continue in the way that they do. Monotony is dull; change is thrilling. Humans seek that change. Feed on it. Breathe it. Fear it. Change makes us who and what we are.
Without it, we are nothing.
*
Nothing is familiar anymore.
That is the first thought I have as I step off the bus and look at my city, seven years in the future from when I had last stood here. The air is thicker; a darker shadow envelopes the expanse of alien ground. The people move about their busy, trivial lives with minds more set on their goals, as though they are trying to prove to themselves that their lives were worth anything. I stepped on a bus seven years ago hoping to become them. I step off glad as hell that I'm not.
A small puddle sits on the filthy asphalt not too far from where I'm standing. I stare into it: my glasses are crooked on my nose; the scythe of black hair is tangled and messy; my trench coat is wrinkled and old. It occurs to me that I should clean up before going back home. But a distraction soon detains me.
The distraction is in the form of a man; he shoves into me and keeps going without apologizing, as he seems to have some place to go so important that it justifies his rudeness. I calmly watch him as he hurries away into the safety of night, and then quietly follow.
No one notices that he is gone.
*
Gone was the darkness of night, and I needed a place to rest. So far, the ground looked fine except I didn't trust the thunderclouds that neared in the distance. I hadn't slept in my own bed for seven years- hell, I'd barely slept- and suddenly I had an irrepressible urge to get home. But I couldn't, not now. I had to settle on an abandoned old car with rusted locks and one window. A smart move on my part, because the next morning was foggy, moist, and cold as hell. Some things about this city were just too stubborn to change.
I started on my trek this morning. I don't know where anything will end anymore, and for once I don't care. How it ends doesn't matter. Neither does how it begins. It's how I get to the end that's important.
I had wandered for five years. I left when I was 13, and five years later something died in me, and something was born. The death left behind seeds- seeds which my soul cultivated and grew. I became everything I'd ever hated as a child. But that was because as a child I was ignorant. That ignorance died, giving way for something else to take its place and live.
I stayed away from home two more years, not wandering, but understanding. Understanding with the help of the growing seed of enmity. My childish self was a nursery for it; as my soul grew accustomed to life, so did the seed. It learned the way the real world acted. It grasped the meanings hidden behind dishonest words, and people who live on facades.
Adults don't live behind facades. They live on them. They begin with a facade as a child, and hold it for so long that it becomes them- and then it is no longer a facade. It is a part of them.
It took me a long time to understand that as a result of my displacement from humanity, I had to have no facade. I had to expose my true self, my intentions, my hatred, my fears- as dangerous as that may be- to keep myself from being human. If my ignorance did not die, it would have become my personal facade, and then my ignorance would have become me.
I blink, and realize that I am finally back here. My old school, the place where the only learning came from outside the classroom, where I had to avoid bullies and devise plans to catch Zim. It's actually newer than I had last seen it; the school board must've actually taken time to fix things up. It must be snack time, because the kids are all out in the field playing their games. A little girl sits in a sandbox, playing around with the ants inside.
This is youth. Excuses are made to protect these so-called innocent. The child I look at now, the little girl, is no different than the man that had shoved me aside earlier. It's just a matter of time before she realizes the powers of her cruelty. She has them. She will use them. She will become just like the rest of humanity.
Some of the teachers gather and point at me. I suppose a six foot two man dressed in a dark leather trench coat who stares at schoolchildren must scare them, or at least cause enough panic for an intruder alert. I decide it's best I leave. No use in drawing unnecessary attention to myself.
My anticipation can be withheld no longer. Cleaned up or not, I have to go home /now/. I near my street and try to suppress the excitement of seeing my family again. They would be so surprised to see me. And what I would do to them...
I plan to show them exactly the kind of love and care that they showed me.
When my house finally comes into view, I stop to stare. Memories electrify my nerves, causing me to shiver though I'm not cold. Memories I'd hoped were dead. I stagger, but catch myself. Such memories are dangerous.
My house, a looming goliath, is broken down. The windows are bolted shut with pieces of wood. The shrubbery in front is overgrown and creates a sort of shield around the house as it continues to wildly climb upwards toward the sky. The door is off its hinges, but any space between it and the wall is also covered with wood. All of this could not have been recent.
My hand touches the door. More memories floods into me. I bite my lip. I force myself to turn the knob. I close my eyes.
Gaz. And Dad. Gaz. And Dad. Gaz.
I find myself unable to near the house any longer. Instead, I turn and run away.
_-=*=-_
Zim sat lazily on the big old couch- the one he'd had ever since he arrived here on Earth. Now the thing was worn down, with more holes in it than could be counted. In fact, most of the room was the same, and had been for years. The only visible change was the replacement of the huge picture above the couch. Instead of a grinning, lime-green monkey with huge anime eyes, it was replaced with a map Gaz had made herself.
It was huge, charting the entire world. It pinpointed every nation's leader's home, and where the government systems were set up. It revealed where secret underground agencies were located and where their entrances were. It revealed everything he needed to know to control the world.
He used it once.
And then he lost interest and never used it again. Now it was just a decoration; a token to remember the past, but no more than that. Since his rival's leaving he experienced pure joy. His time had come. He could continue with his mission without worrying about someone standing in the way.
But his high eventually came crashing down. He no longer had a motive to control this place; and where would the joy be in what he could not gloat about? His leaders certainly didn't care whether he had taken over this place or not- he learned that long ago- and as long as he stayed here, they were happy.
His perspective changed; his mission as well. It turned into a quest to figure out /why/ the Dib-human had wanted to protect a people of shameful ignorance and stupidity. And it took a few more years of studying more closely what Dib had seen in these people all along. He understood them at a different level. Their ineptitude was all anyone might see at first if they stood outside, looking in. But once he got beneath the minds of these people, into the layers instead of merely glancing at the surface, he saw something so much more complex; so different.
These people weren't entirely worth obliterating. They had a mission, a passion of their own. Their diversity made them intriguing. And the more he studied, the more he liked.
So that was why his map was now a wall decoration. Why he had changed his mission himself, and why he had begun to take a liking to human life.
If anyone saw him now, they would mistake him for human.
He sat on the couch with a half-eaten bag of chips to his right and an open philosophy book in his lap. His robot "dog" sat staring mindlessly into the mute television screen, counting the number of squares as its master had ordered. Somewhere in the middle of the screen it lost count and, not wanting to disappoint its master in his request, began to count the tiny squares again.
The phone rang- a shrill scream in the comfortable silence- and Zim jumped, startled. Glad that no one was around to laugh at him, he picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
Gaz's voice was on the other end. She didn't bother asking if he was there; she had known him long enough to recognize his voice.
"I just created a new version of that computer game you've been obsessed with. You're welcome to come over tomorrow to beta-test it."
Zim glanced at the clock. "You mean today?"
There was a pause, and then a long yawn on the other end. "No, tomorrow. We have important things to do today."
The last sentence didn't register in Zim's mind. He was too tired to ask her to repeat what she had said, anyway, and instead asked, "How did you know I wasn't asleep?"
"Because of what today is."
A long, unsettling silence ensued. Zim checked his watch to look at the date. "Shit."
"You forgot?"
"No, no... I just temporarily.. didn't remember," Zim mumbled.
"You're a horrible liar when you're half asleep," Gaz said. "I can't believe you forgot, Zim. You're such a numbskull. You *are* coming, right?"
Zim laid his head back, resting his eyes. No wonder he couldn't sleep tonight. Even consciously his troubled mind could realize what today was. "Yes, of course," he finally managed to whisper. "I can't believe I forgot. I /don't/ forget things."
"Maybe you're a little too human," Gaz commented. He could tell she was smirking on the other side, and he shook his head, breaking out into a smile at the sheer irony himself.
"But yes, I'll come. I wouldn't miss it for anything. I know how important it is to you."
"It should be important to you, too. I'll be driving in at noon. Meet at your house per usual?"
"Of course. Get some sleep, Gaz."
"You too. Goodnight."
Zim hung up and patted Gir's head. "Come on, Gir. It's time we rest. You know what today is."
Gir stopped counting squares and leapt up into his master's arms. "YAY! It's national cupcake day!"
"No... no, Gir. Today is the anniversary of Dib's disappearance."
"That means we get to see Gaz-human!" Gir squealed. He jumped back out of Zim's arm and did a little dance to celebrate.
"Yes. So you're going to let master sleep, right?"
Gir's eyes briefly flashed rubicund and it saluted Zim. Then a tongue lolled out and it returned to the t.v. to count squares.
On the way to his sleeping pod Zim passed by a picture that had been taken by Gaz. It was Dib, pouring over some Mysterious Mysteries magazines and holding one up about aliens. She had no idea why she'd taken that picture, but she'd given it to Zim upon his request.
Zim sighed and pushed the picture down so that he didn't have to remember anymore.
*
"Any more requests?" Gaz asked as she nodded toward the radio. It was currently blaring some rugged, metallic sounding music that reminded Zim of the time Gir tried to form a band with the computer.
Zim shrugged and ignored her. His sharp green fingers drummed on the dashboard as he scooted back in his seat to look out the front window and see where they were headed.
"Zim, stop it. You're making /me/ nervous," Gaz sneered, her hands tightly clenching the wheel. Golden eyes swept over to his side for just a moment, and a brief expression of worry passed over Gaz's face. "Listen it's... been seven years. I know that."
They had this conversation every year. Zim only half-listened, knowing exactly what she was going to say. That it's been a struggle.
"I know it's been tough losing him... we've all struggled with accepting it."
That no one was to blame.
"It's not your fault. It's no one's. No one knew that Dib would do this- not even you. And you're probably the closest anyone has gotten to understanding him."
That there was hope.
"He's not dead. I know it. I can feel it. We'll find him someday."
Zim grinned. "Wow, Gaz. Such compassion. Such emotion. I think that little bit deserves a Grammy."
Gaz suddenly stepped on the gas and went tearing down the street, flinging Zim deep into his seat. She took her eyes entirely off the road to glare at him. "You know, Zim, just because you're an alien doesn't get you off the hook. I can kick your butt like I kick a human's any time."
"Gaz... please... the road..." Zim managed to gag.
She slammed on the break; Zim was flung forward, the dashboard slightly kissed his head, and velocity flung Zim backwards again. "We're here."
"Human... I'm going to destroy you..." Zim said as he rubbed his disoriented head and grimaced.
"You've been saying that for years. You'd think one would get a clue by now," Gaz said as she unhooked her seatbelt and grabbed her backpack.
"Clue? Heh, heh, heh... the almighty Zim needs no clue..." Zim warily unhooked his seatbelt; he glanced to make sure that the car was off and to confirm that he would not be in any mortal danger if he took away his only safety tool. "Maybe a lifeline, but not a clue."
The mood was light inside the car. But once the two stepped outside, the air was suddenly humid with gravity. Zim stopped smiling and turned to glance up at the house. The Membrane family moved out of it about a year after Dib's disappearance. And no one had yet dared to move in. The house had grown cold, and lonely, and dead.
Zim took a sideways glance at Gaz. Unconsciously she bit her lower lip.
Taking in a deep breath, Gaz moved up the steps. There were no words for moments like this.
She used to come here alone. Grieve, entirely alone. Her father never could get over the incident, and had a habit of running away from his problems. Perhaps he and Dib were too much alike. Nevertheless, once Gaz was old enough to go to college Membrane took off to Russia to work on a top secret aerospace project. He sent her letters every random once in awhile when he felt like it, and though it was filled with science mumbo jumbo that made no sense to her, it was still nice that he cared enough to write to her.
And then it happened maybe the fifth time she had come. Zim was here too. She didn't know why. She didn't know he was even still alive, not after he'd disappeared not too long that Dib himself had gone. But they stood here, quietly, unspeaking. They gazed at the house where once an unnatural family had lived. Where once a boy- paranoid, maybe even a little crazy- had spent his life. Save a few pictures, it was all they had to remember him by.
After this she and Zim had gone back to her apartment and a friendship grew. Gaz eventually had to go back to college; Zim had college of his own. They separated, but kept in touch via Internet and phone calls. And ever since then they'd vowed to meet back here once a year, to remember. Because all that mattered were the memories.
Gaz turned to see that Zim was walking back towards the truck. Was it time to go? Already? But she'd barely gotten a chance to...
There was a small creaking sound, barely audible. Gaz glanced up to see the door slightly ajar, being pushed back and forth by an incoming wind. Eyes could peer from the outside in, unseen by the world on the out. The thought of such sent her shaking. Her small steps, timid and light, approached the door.
"Gaz?"
She ignored Zim and grabbed the door handle, forcing it opened even wider. Unable to restrain herself, she glanced inside.
It was dark in the poor lighting. Dust thrived like weeds, and a few old pieces of furniture that they had left behind were still there, abandoned and forlorn. She shook her head, realizing that the door must have opened itself in its years of neglect and warping. After making sure it was shut closed, she stomped back off to her pickup. "Let's go."
Zim stared back at the house as Gaz drove away. It disappeared in view, but the odd feeling he received from the house lingered like a candle's fragrance hours after the candle has burnt out. Unused to these sort of emotions, he ignored the feeling and gazed down the road as Gaz chased the falling sun.
_-=*=-_
I'm hoping this fic changes all of that.
And if it doesn't- it's a free country. Flames are as welcome as complements.
I'd like to thank my two betas, Crimson Obsession and Opalescent Tear, for their constant dedication to our friendship. And I would also like to dedicate this fic to both of them.
Change of Pace
For Tif and Meg
Part One- Lived
/I asked myself "was I content" with the world that I once cherished,
Did it bring me to this darkened place to contemplate my perfect future
I will not stand nor utter words against this tide of hate
Losing sight of what and who I was again I can see that you're losing me
I always tried to keep myself tied to this world
But I know where this is leading.../ -VNV Nation; 'Epicentre'
What else can be said about the world that hasn't been said already? It's a place full of pain, full of torture. It is a place with pleasure, with joy. There is sorrow. There is hope. The world is not one thing; it is all things. No distinct black, and no distinct white. Always tinted, slightly tainted with the greys of inconsistency. And it is this inconsistency that acts as fuel for human beings to continue in the way that they do. Monotony is dull; change is thrilling. Humans seek that change. Feed on it. Breathe it. Fear it. Change makes us who and what we are.
Without it, we are nothing.
*
Nothing is familiar anymore.
That is the first thought I have as I step off the bus and look at my city, seven years in the future from when I had last stood here. The air is thicker; a darker shadow envelopes the expanse of alien ground. The people move about their busy, trivial lives with minds more set on their goals, as though they are trying to prove to themselves that their lives were worth anything. I stepped on a bus seven years ago hoping to become them. I step off glad as hell that I'm not.
A small puddle sits on the filthy asphalt not too far from where I'm standing. I stare into it: my glasses are crooked on my nose; the scythe of black hair is tangled and messy; my trench coat is wrinkled and old. It occurs to me that I should clean up before going back home. But a distraction soon detains me.
The distraction is in the form of a man; he shoves into me and keeps going without apologizing, as he seems to have some place to go so important that it justifies his rudeness. I calmly watch him as he hurries away into the safety of night, and then quietly follow.
No one notices that he is gone.
*
Gone was the darkness of night, and I needed a place to rest. So far, the ground looked fine except I didn't trust the thunderclouds that neared in the distance. I hadn't slept in my own bed for seven years- hell, I'd barely slept- and suddenly I had an irrepressible urge to get home. But I couldn't, not now. I had to settle on an abandoned old car with rusted locks and one window. A smart move on my part, because the next morning was foggy, moist, and cold as hell. Some things about this city were just too stubborn to change.
I started on my trek this morning. I don't know where anything will end anymore, and for once I don't care. How it ends doesn't matter. Neither does how it begins. It's how I get to the end that's important.
I had wandered for five years. I left when I was 13, and five years later something died in me, and something was born. The death left behind seeds- seeds which my soul cultivated and grew. I became everything I'd ever hated as a child. But that was because as a child I was ignorant. That ignorance died, giving way for something else to take its place and live.
I stayed away from home two more years, not wandering, but understanding. Understanding with the help of the growing seed of enmity. My childish self was a nursery for it; as my soul grew accustomed to life, so did the seed. It learned the way the real world acted. It grasped the meanings hidden behind dishonest words, and people who live on facades.
Adults don't live behind facades. They live on them. They begin with a facade as a child, and hold it for so long that it becomes them- and then it is no longer a facade. It is a part of them.
It took me a long time to understand that as a result of my displacement from humanity, I had to have no facade. I had to expose my true self, my intentions, my hatred, my fears- as dangerous as that may be- to keep myself from being human. If my ignorance did not die, it would have become my personal facade, and then my ignorance would have become me.
I blink, and realize that I am finally back here. My old school, the place where the only learning came from outside the classroom, where I had to avoid bullies and devise plans to catch Zim. It's actually newer than I had last seen it; the school board must've actually taken time to fix things up. It must be snack time, because the kids are all out in the field playing their games. A little girl sits in a sandbox, playing around with the ants inside.
This is youth. Excuses are made to protect these so-called innocent. The child I look at now, the little girl, is no different than the man that had shoved me aside earlier. It's just a matter of time before she realizes the powers of her cruelty. She has them. She will use them. She will become just like the rest of humanity.
Some of the teachers gather and point at me. I suppose a six foot two man dressed in a dark leather trench coat who stares at schoolchildren must scare them, or at least cause enough panic for an intruder alert. I decide it's best I leave. No use in drawing unnecessary attention to myself.
My anticipation can be withheld no longer. Cleaned up or not, I have to go home /now/. I near my street and try to suppress the excitement of seeing my family again. They would be so surprised to see me. And what I would do to them...
I plan to show them exactly the kind of love and care that they showed me.
When my house finally comes into view, I stop to stare. Memories electrify my nerves, causing me to shiver though I'm not cold. Memories I'd hoped were dead. I stagger, but catch myself. Such memories are dangerous.
My house, a looming goliath, is broken down. The windows are bolted shut with pieces of wood. The shrubbery in front is overgrown and creates a sort of shield around the house as it continues to wildly climb upwards toward the sky. The door is off its hinges, but any space between it and the wall is also covered with wood. All of this could not have been recent.
My hand touches the door. More memories floods into me. I bite my lip. I force myself to turn the knob. I close my eyes.
Gaz. And Dad. Gaz. And Dad. Gaz.
I find myself unable to near the house any longer. Instead, I turn and run away.
_-=*=-_
Zim sat lazily on the big old couch- the one he'd had ever since he arrived here on Earth. Now the thing was worn down, with more holes in it than could be counted. In fact, most of the room was the same, and had been for years. The only visible change was the replacement of the huge picture above the couch. Instead of a grinning, lime-green monkey with huge anime eyes, it was replaced with a map Gaz had made herself.
It was huge, charting the entire world. It pinpointed every nation's leader's home, and where the government systems were set up. It revealed where secret underground agencies were located and where their entrances were. It revealed everything he needed to know to control the world.
He used it once.
And then he lost interest and never used it again. Now it was just a decoration; a token to remember the past, but no more than that. Since his rival's leaving he experienced pure joy. His time had come. He could continue with his mission without worrying about someone standing in the way.
But his high eventually came crashing down. He no longer had a motive to control this place; and where would the joy be in what he could not gloat about? His leaders certainly didn't care whether he had taken over this place or not- he learned that long ago- and as long as he stayed here, they were happy.
His perspective changed; his mission as well. It turned into a quest to figure out /why/ the Dib-human had wanted to protect a people of shameful ignorance and stupidity. And it took a few more years of studying more closely what Dib had seen in these people all along. He understood them at a different level. Their ineptitude was all anyone might see at first if they stood outside, looking in. But once he got beneath the minds of these people, into the layers instead of merely glancing at the surface, he saw something so much more complex; so different.
These people weren't entirely worth obliterating. They had a mission, a passion of their own. Their diversity made them intriguing. And the more he studied, the more he liked.
So that was why his map was now a wall decoration. Why he had changed his mission himself, and why he had begun to take a liking to human life.
If anyone saw him now, they would mistake him for human.
He sat on the couch with a half-eaten bag of chips to his right and an open philosophy book in his lap. His robot "dog" sat staring mindlessly into the mute television screen, counting the number of squares as its master had ordered. Somewhere in the middle of the screen it lost count and, not wanting to disappoint its master in his request, began to count the tiny squares again.
The phone rang- a shrill scream in the comfortable silence- and Zim jumped, startled. Glad that no one was around to laugh at him, he picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
Gaz's voice was on the other end. She didn't bother asking if he was there; she had known him long enough to recognize his voice.
"I just created a new version of that computer game you've been obsessed with. You're welcome to come over tomorrow to beta-test it."
Zim glanced at the clock. "You mean today?"
There was a pause, and then a long yawn on the other end. "No, tomorrow. We have important things to do today."
The last sentence didn't register in Zim's mind. He was too tired to ask her to repeat what she had said, anyway, and instead asked, "How did you know I wasn't asleep?"
"Because of what today is."
A long, unsettling silence ensued. Zim checked his watch to look at the date. "Shit."
"You forgot?"
"No, no... I just temporarily.. didn't remember," Zim mumbled.
"You're a horrible liar when you're half asleep," Gaz said. "I can't believe you forgot, Zim. You're such a numbskull. You *are* coming, right?"
Zim laid his head back, resting his eyes. No wonder he couldn't sleep tonight. Even consciously his troubled mind could realize what today was. "Yes, of course," he finally managed to whisper. "I can't believe I forgot. I /don't/ forget things."
"Maybe you're a little too human," Gaz commented. He could tell she was smirking on the other side, and he shook his head, breaking out into a smile at the sheer irony himself.
"But yes, I'll come. I wouldn't miss it for anything. I know how important it is to you."
"It should be important to you, too. I'll be driving in at noon. Meet at your house per usual?"
"Of course. Get some sleep, Gaz."
"You too. Goodnight."
Zim hung up and patted Gir's head. "Come on, Gir. It's time we rest. You know what today is."
Gir stopped counting squares and leapt up into his master's arms. "YAY! It's national cupcake day!"
"No... no, Gir. Today is the anniversary of Dib's disappearance."
"That means we get to see Gaz-human!" Gir squealed. He jumped back out of Zim's arm and did a little dance to celebrate.
"Yes. So you're going to let master sleep, right?"
Gir's eyes briefly flashed rubicund and it saluted Zim. Then a tongue lolled out and it returned to the t.v. to count squares.
On the way to his sleeping pod Zim passed by a picture that had been taken by Gaz. It was Dib, pouring over some Mysterious Mysteries magazines and holding one up about aliens. She had no idea why she'd taken that picture, but she'd given it to Zim upon his request.
Zim sighed and pushed the picture down so that he didn't have to remember anymore.
*
"Any more requests?" Gaz asked as she nodded toward the radio. It was currently blaring some rugged, metallic sounding music that reminded Zim of the time Gir tried to form a band with the computer.
Zim shrugged and ignored her. His sharp green fingers drummed on the dashboard as he scooted back in his seat to look out the front window and see where they were headed.
"Zim, stop it. You're making /me/ nervous," Gaz sneered, her hands tightly clenching the wheel. Golden eyes swept over to his side for just a moment, and a brief expression of worry passed over Gaz's face. "Listen it's... been seven years. I know that."
They had this conversation every year. Zim only half-listened, knowing exactly what she was going to say. That it's been a struggle.
"I know it's been tough losing him... we've all struggled with accepting it."
That no one was to blame.
"It's not your fault. It's no one's. No one knew that Dib would do this- not even you. And you're probably the closest anyone has gotten to understanding him."
That there was hope.
"He's not dead. I know it. I can feel it. We'll find him someday."
Zim grinned. "Wow, Gaz. Such compassion. Such emotion. I think that little bit deserves a Grammy."
Gaz suddenly stepped on the gas and went tearing down the street, flinging Zim deep into his seat. She took her eyes entirely off the road to glare at him. "You know, Zim, just because you're an alien doesn't get you off the hook. I can kick your butt like I kick a human's any time."
"Gaz... please... the road..." Zim managed to gag.
She slammed on the break; Zim was flung forward, the dashboard slightly kissed his head, and velocity flung Zim backwards again. "We're here."
"Human... I'm going to destroy you..." Zim said as he rubbed his disoriented head and grimaced.
"You've been saying that for years. You'd think one would get a clue by now," Gaz said as she unhooked her seatbelt and grabbed her backpack.
"Clue? Heh, heh, heh... the almighty Zim needs no clue..." Zim warily unhooked his seatbelt; he glanced to make sure that the car was off and to confirm that he would not be in any mortal danger if he took away his only safety tool. "Maybe a lifeline, but not a clue."
The mood was light inside the car. But once the two stepped outside, the air was suddenly humid with gravity. Zim stopped smiling and turned to glance up at the house. The Membrane family moved out of it about a year after Dib's disappearance. And no one had yet dared to move in. The house had grown cold, and lonely, and dead.
Zim took a sideways glance at Gaz. Unconsciously she bit her lower lip.
Taking in a deep breath, Gaz moved up the steps. There were no words for moments like this.
She used to come here alone. Grieve, entirely alone. Her father never could get over the incident, and had a habit of running away from his problems. Perhaps he and Dib were too much alike. Nevertheless, once Gaz was old enough to go to college Membrane took off to Russia to work on a top secret aerospace project. He sent her letters every random once in awhile when he felt like it, and though it was filled with science mumbo jumbo that made no sense to her, it was still nice that he cared enough to write to her.
And then it happened maybe the fifth time she had come. Zim was here too. She didn't know why. She didn't know he was even still alive, not after he'd disappeared not too long that Dib himself had gone. But they stood here, quietly, unspeaking. They gazed at the house where once an unnatural family had lived. Where once a boy- paranoid, maybe even a little crazy- had spent his life. Save a few pictures, it was all they had to remember him by.
After this she and Zim had gone back to her apartment and a friendship grew. Gaz eventually had to go back to college; Zim had college of his own. They separated, but kept in touch via Internet and phone calls. And ever since then they'd vowed to meet back here once a year, to remember. Because all that mattered were the memories.
Gaz turned to see that Zim was walking back towards the truck. Was it time to go? Already? But she'd barely gotten a chance to...
There was a small creaking sound, barely audible. Gaz glanced up to see the door slightly ajar, being pushed back and forth by an incoming wind. Eyes could peer from the outside in, unseen by the world on the out. The thought of such sent her shaking. Her small steps, timid and light, approached the door.
"Gaz?"
She ignored Zim and grabbed the door handle, forcing it opened even wider. Unable to restrain herself, she glanced inside.
It was dark in the poor lighting. Dust thrived like weeds, and a few old pieces of furniture that they had left behind were still there, abandoned and forlorn. She shook her head, realizing that the door must have opened itself in its years of neglect and warping. After making sure it was shut closed, she stomped back off to her pickup. "Let's go."
Zim stared back at the house as Gaz drove away. It disappeared in view, but the odd feeling he received from the house lingered like a candle's fragrance hours after the candle has burnt out. Unused to these sort of emotions, he ignored the feeling and gazed down the road as Gaz chased the falling sun.
_-=*=-_