Title: Unsweet Victory
Author: Dorri
Summary: Dib has finally accomplished what he had set out to do ever since Zim's arrival. So why isn't he celebrating? [ONE-SHOT]
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Zim and Dib belong to Jhonen Vasquez. I make no profit from these writings. They are merely an expression of my imagination.

Unsweet Victory

He stared, mortified by the scene that lay just beyond the thick glass that gave a clear view of the examining room. The body lay motionless on the table, not a hint of life that he could see. The scientists who had preformed the gruesome task were busy cleaning themselves up, their work now complete and the information written and recorded. Several vital organs had been removed and gingerly placed in jars for later studying.

He had succeeded in what he had set out to do ever since the little green creature had first set foot into his classroom, horribly disguised and obvious to anyone with at least two functioning brain cells. It was over. He had won. The Earth was safe, and he could rest easy now, and yet he couldn't bring himself to cheer, couldn't find it in his heart to feel triumphant, or even feel relief. He was left tasting a victory that didn't have the faintest hint of sweetness. If anything, it was bitter, sour even. He shouldn't have been feeling this way. This was supposed to be a moment of celebration!

The scientists exited the room, smiling down at the young paranormal investigator. "What an incredible specimen, Mr. Membrane! I've never seen anything so complex!" The man gave Dib a gentle pat on the shoulder. "We recorded every second of it. How would you like to have the video named after you?"

Dib only stared up at the man, mouth agape. "I…I…" was all he could manage to utter.

The scientists chuckled. "Poor kid," one of them laughed. "He's so excited, he's speechless!"

The group of men and women walked on to fetch themselves a cup of coffee, leaving Dib to stand alone outside the examining room, which still held the lifeless body of his once arch nemesis. Swallowing hard, he took a step forward, slowly approaching the brightly lit room. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, the room echoing with his footsteps.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Dib looked down, his disgust escalating as he watched Zim's blood drip from the table onto the cold, white floor. A large puddle of the green, Irken blood had already formed on the floor, almost black from the vast amount that had pooled there. The smell was so strong it nearly floored the boy. Irken blood had a much stronger odor than human blood, and that, coupled with the scent of various chemicals in the air, made it difficult for Dib to breathe.

He brought his gaze back to the lifeless form, his heart twisting in agony when he finally saw the alien's face up close. His eyes were wide open, and while there was no life in them, Dib could still see the fear and pain. His lips were parted in a silent scream, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. But what pained the young boy the most was seeing the drying tear stains on Zim's cheeks. He looked away for a moment, his heart beginning to beat more rapidly as his self-loathing made itself known.

He had had the luxury of not actually being able to hear the process. The room was pretty much soundproof. But he had still seen the whole thing. He had seen the alien twist and jerk against his restraints as he was cut, poked and prodded. He could see now that if he had actually heard his ear-shattering cries of pain and pleas for the men to stop, he probably would have ran into the room and stopped the entire process from continuing any further, but the visual horror alone should have been enough to send him scrambling to bring a stop to the slaughter. So why didn't he? Oh, God, why didn't he?

He looked further across the room and found the Irken's dismantled PAK residing on another table, bits and pieces sealed tightly in plastic bags, with labels scribbled across them. He shook his head with grief. They had dismantled the PAK lastly, after the Irken had died from loss of blood. He was certain that if they had tackled the PAK first, Zim's death probably would have been much quicker and less painful, but no, they had cut into him first, twisting his organs and breaking his bones, ultimately making him suffer a slow, painful death with hardly a care. They never once reacted to his struggles. It was almost like they had simply dissected a dead, frozen rat, not a living, sentient being, still very much aware of its surroundings.

Looking back at his enemy (if he could even call him that anymore), he slowly reached out a hand, fingers trembling as he started to touch the foreign creature's face, but he stopped and let his hand fall back to his side. Dib stumbled backwards. "No," he whispered. He continued backwards until his back came to rest against the large, glass window. "Oh God, oh God, oh God," he whispered over and over again, sliding to the floor. "What've I done?" he asked himself, his voice cracking from despair. "I'm a murderer."

He was going to destroy the world, a voice in his head tried to reason.

"But it didn't have to come to this," he replied to himself, grabbing the sides of his head. "I…I didn't have to do this." He felt tears prickling his eyes, threatening to spill. He took slow, shuddering breaths, trying to will away his urge to cry. Why? Why only when Zim was lying dead on an examining table did he realize his mistake? But that was usually how it always played out. People never realized an error until after its devastating effects.

Dib stilled when he saw a shadow fall upon him. Heart still racing, he slowly lifted his head, his stomach churning violently when he took in the sight. Zim stood before him, blood still oozing from the gaping wound in his stomach, which exposed what was left of his ribs. Some of his remaining organs threatened to spill from the opening and fall to the floor in a bloody heap. Dib nearly vomited.

"Why?" the Irken asked pitifully, extending his hands outward in a pleading manner. "Why did you do this to me?"

Dib's lips trembled in absolute horror as he tried to scramble away from the alien, but he was completely pressed against the wall.

"Why, Dib?" the being asked again.

Unable to do anything else, the boy screamed to the point where he thought his throat would start to bleed.

0ooooooo0

Dib jolted from his slumber with a startled cry, beads of sweat dotting his face. "Oh, God," he breathed, running a hand through his hair, which was now dampened with sweat. "Oh, God," he said again, reaching a shaking hand over to the nightstand and fumbling around for his glasses. He stared ahead of him, his hands gripping the blankets tightly. He had had his fair share of Zim related nightmares in the three years he had been on his planet. Most of them involved the Irken Armada finally coming to conquer the planet, but this was something entirely different and easily the most horrifying, surprisingly. He had had dreams in the past which depicted himself turning Zim into the government and ultimately saving the planet, but they had always been blissful and joyous, never anything like…that. What had changed?

Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, Dib sat there for a brief moment, allowing his nerves to settle as he stared down at the floor. Slowly, he lifted his gaze and let his eyes settle on his desk, which housed his computer and various other types of equipment. Sighing, he pushed himself up and walked over to the desk, his hand finding one of the drawers and yanking it open. His breathing stilled for a moment when his eyes fell upon the disk case that was nestled inside the drawer. He reached in to pick it up.

Dib swallowed the lump in his throat as he slowly opened the case, revealing the disk that rested inside. His heart pounded against his chest as he stared at the valuable object. It was that simple little disk that held the incriminating evidence of Zim's true identity, the evidence that he had finally acquired and had planned to share with Agent Darkbootie and the rest of the S.E.N members, the evidence that Zim was not aware that he had. He gingerly removed the disk from its case, staring at it with growing uncertainty.

Had his priorities changed? No, he knew he still had a mission to protect his planet, but three years was a long time for someone to gain a new outlook on life. Yes, the heart of his mission remained the same, but he didn't think he could carry it out to its full extent.

'They might even name your autopsy video after me!'

Dib shuddered at the memory. Looking back on it, he became overwhelmed with disgust for himself at how sinister and heartless he had sounded. "Was that really me?" he asked softly, his eyes still resting on the disk in his hand. He sighed in defeat, glancing up at the ceiling as he accepted that his awaiting victory had lost its luster. He shut his eyes and bit his bottom lip, grasping the disk with his other hand and slowly started to bend it.

There was a loud snap.

Author's Note: Okay, I probably shouldn't be writing this. I'm slowly letting myself get sucked into this fandom, when I have stories in other fandoms that are demanding my attention. Hell, I haven't even seen every Invader Zim episode. Pathetic, yes? Though I'm trying to right that wrong. HOLY FUCK. NO ONE HAS THE BOX SET! And they won't even order the fucking thing! FFFFFF WUT?

Anyway, I know people have tackled this idea before. I can't possibly comb through thousands of stories to see if this EXACT plotline has been done before, but obviously the 'Zim gets dissected plot' HAS been done in many ways. Some sad…some perverted (giggle). This seemed like a good enough plotline to fall back on just to satisfy my need to write IZ crap. Hopefully, no one else has written anything dangerously close to this. If they have, I sincerely apologize. I did not knowingly copy anyone's story.