For individual chapter notes, bonus content, and updates on when new chapters are coming out, follow the story on DeviantArt (aladdin-boy dot deviantart dot com). And don't forget to leave a comment here!

"What's he doing?" I muttered, flipping from camera to camera. It was going on two hours since I'd started watching Zim. "He's just… laying there!" My small wireless computer screen showed a grainy video feed from a hidden camera in Zim's base. Invader Zim, the small and remarkably incompetent Irken invader, was laying on his back in the center of his poorly disguised 'living room'. Occasionally, his hyper robot GIR would sprint across the room, the only indication that the video feed wasn't frozen. Eventually, I dropped the computer screen and glanced at my watch. Two hours and eleven minutes. I looked back at the computer screen. All seemed quiet. Too quiet.

"OK, normally I couldn't care less what you do with your free time." I jumped, never having heard Gaz enter the room. "But I'm two levels away from the lava pig boss battle, and I can't concentrate on grinding up my XP if you keep muttering to yourself." She didn't look up from her video game, but I swear I could still feel her glare all the same.

I shuddered involuntarily. Man, she's creepy. "Maybe he died! How long do they live anyway? But… wait. Then that would mean… More would come. If Zim dies, he won't report back to his colony or whatever. Then they'd come looking for him!" I checked the video feed again. GIR was poking Zim in the side, and Zim was trying, unsuccessfully, to push the robot away. "OK… whew. Dodged that bullet. Maybe…"

"Maybe he's doing something you shouldn't care about, because he's in his house and you're in mine." Gaz sat on the couch, kicking up her feet and resting them on my head. I did my best to ignore her.

"Maybe he's trying to… to convince me something is wrong! It's a trick! He's trying to entice me to come over to his base so he can destroy me!"

"Oh my god are you still talking?"

"No… He's smarter than that… barely, though. He'd know that I'd figure him out. He'd know I'd see right through his charade, why else would he do it in his living room, the one room of his base with windows? Aha! He's trying to keep me out… he must be up to something. Something secret… I must find out!"

"If you continue talking I will staple your mouth shut with the rustiest staples I can get my hands on."

I decided it was best for my health to remain silent as I slipped on my trademark trench coat and ran out the door.

Standing on the door mat in front of Zim's house, I paused, thinking. Something was definitely wrong. The garden gnomes that comprised Zim's first line of defense were completely still. Normally they would be blasting away at me with megawatt lasers that, while non-lethal, were remarkably painful. Cautiously, I reached up and knocked on the door.

On the other side of the door, I heard GIR bouncing around. "Bet it's a squirrel parade!" The door opened a crack and GIR's head popped out, covered in its usual green felt. How anybody with two eyes could be fooled by the pitiful dog disguise was past me, but it seemed to be effective nonetheless. GIR also seemed to be holding a half-empty tub of ice cream. "Hello, Big-Head Boy! I'm making ice cream Tuesdays."

"Y'mean sundaes?"

"…TUESDAYS! See?" It held the ice cream tub out for me to look at. There seemed to be sardines in the ice cream, as well as what looked like shredded newspapers. "Oh, would you like to join me for Angry Monkey Hour? I love that show…"

"Uh… not now."

"GIR, who infects Zim's lawn with their presence?" Zim sounded oddly tired, and his screechy voice was less piercing than usual.

"Zim?" I pushed the door open and stepped carefully over GIR, still expecting some sort of trickery. "It's, uh… Dib?"

"Oh. You." The lack of insult made me even more suspicious. Zim never passed up an opportunity to remind me just how inferior I and the rest of my species are. The green alien propped himself up against the foot of his couch, looking me over. "Zim does not wish the Dib creature to be here."

"Zim is sad because he's a big dookie," said GIR happily, shutting the door and climbing onto the TV stand.

"LIES, GIR! The almighty ZIM does not feel SAD! SADNESS is a FOREIGN EMOTION to members of the HIGHEST ORDER of Irken invaders."

"Yep! Too bad you're not highest-order like them," squeaked GIR before walking off the edge of the TV stand and falling flat on its head. "Whoopsie!"

"Zim… What's that thing talking about?" I took a couple of cautious steps toward the couch. Nothing tried to destroy me as I approached Zim, so I figured it was safe enough to stand near the small invader.

"The powerful Zim does not… I mean… Zim has always been…" He shivered, something I've never seen him do before. "Zim is… LIES! ALL LIES! ZIM IS THE MOST POWERFUL… most powerful… invader…"

Something hot stirred in my chest. Zim looked… pitiful? I'd never seen him so depressed before.

"Let's watch it again!" shouted GIR, still upside down from falling. It pointed a remote at the TV, which lit up. It seemed to be showing a recording of one of Zim's video messages to the highest, the Irken leaders.

Zim sighed and covered his eyes with his arm.

"My Tallest!" shouted Zim on the TV. That's right, they're the tallest, not the highest. I'd seen them before, in some of Zim's transmissions I'd managed to pick up, but they never really contained any useful information, so I stopped paying attention to them years ago. "To what do I owe the glory of your tele-presence?"

"Zim, remember when you were tried for your existence evaluation?" asked the one with red eyes.

"…No."

"Well, you were. And the control brains have revised their verdict. You have been deemed defective."

"WHAT!?" The speakers on the TV crackled a little with the volume of recorded Zim's yell.

"Yes. You are a defective. Of course, we knew this all along, which is why we sent you on that that fake invasion mission."

The one with the purple eyes fiddled with what looked like a chocolate eclair. "Yeah!" he piped up. "We thought you'd die out there!"

"Indeed," said the red one. "It was funny at first, when you reported in. Your terrible ability to conquer even a primitive planet such as Earth was entertainment for us…" The purple one nodded. "…But now, it's run its course. Zim, we can't have you diverting us from our real invasions. The Control Brains have spoken, and we are canceling your existence continuation."

"I don't understand…" yelled Zim. "Who is forcing you to say these horrible lies? LIES!?" Are you being held captive by an INFERIOR RACE?"

"No one is forcing us, you are a defective! A defective, Zim! We're revoking your PAK hyper-powers. You will age, your body will die, you will be deleted, and we will be done with you once and for all."

"You can keep the garbage SIR."

"But the invasion…!" cried Zim.

"THERE NEVER WAS AN INVASION!" shouted the purple one, his face contorting into a snarl. "EARTH IS A DUMB, USELESS PLANET OF NO STRATEGIC, MATERIAL, OR POLITICAL VALUE!"

"Good bye, Zim. You tiny, stupid, defective, dookie."

The video stopped, paused on the gleeful faces of the two aliens. GIR hit the rewind button on the remote, watching with fascination at the recording playing backwards at high speed. "I rate it a four… I'm gonna watch it again!" it said.

The room was silent for a moment. I didn't really know what to say. On the one hand, this meant Earth is safe from alien invasions, and I don't have to protect the human race anymore (although recently I've been doubting whether the human race even deserves to be saved). On the other hand, loosing Zim was… unfathomable. Some time in the last seven years, Zim and I had developed a sort of begrudging respect for each other. It was nice knowing that, no matter what else changed in my life, Zim would always be there to fight against. To balance me. To be the one person who pays even a shred of attention to me.

"I… uh…"

"LEAVE! LEAVE Dib creature, leave me to die."

I sighed. I was going to regret this, I could tell, but I couldn't just let the alien die. He looked so pitiful. I mean, if he died I wouldn't have any proof of aliens. That's why was going to help him… right? "Zim… How long do you have?" I sat down on the floor next to him, my back against the couch.

Zim turned to me, looking up with his big crimson eyes. I couldn't tell you why, but I always preferred seeing him without his contacts in. The fake eyes always looked creepy and dead to me. "Without my PAK, my Irken body will age much more rapidly than normal. I will be dead and deleted within an Earthanoid century."

It took a moment for me to process that. "A cent… A century!? That's, like, a really long time! You've got nothing to be sad about, most humans don't even live that long."

"It could be less. The incredible, infallible Zim could be deleted within a week. Without a functional PAK, the Irken body takes much longer to heal. Were I to damage my endoskeleton, it could be weeks upon weeks, perhaps longer, for it to mend. I'm doomed," he said sadly, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

I wasn't sure what to do. I placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He flinched at my touch, but didn't move after that. "It'll be alright. Just be careful and you should be fine."

Zim looked down at his three-fingered hands, slowly removing his gloves and setting them on the floor. "Can Zim ask the Dib a question?"

"Uh…"

"YES, YES I CAN ask a question. Zim does not seek permission from smelly humans." I nodded, unsure if I was supposed to agree with him or not, although I felt a little more comfortable now that he was yelling again. "Why does the Dib thing protect the Earth planet?"

"Why…? Because I live here!"

"But this planet is vile! Infested with GERMS and SQUIRRELS and HI SKOOLS. How can the Dib stand to… to…"

"Because I belong here. This is my home. Believe me, Zim, I hate this chunk of rock just as much as you do. You could detonate a freakin' atomic bomb and we would have to check the weather channel because we're so stupid we can't even tell fallout from snow."

"We…?"

"Well, other people. I mean, have you seen what they're doing to the planet? You can't even walk down the street without getting covered in grease and soot! Our leaders are all elected by a flawed voting system that serves the shadow government, and the only reason we don't all commit suicide is because we're pumped full of antidepressants and fluoride! Honestly, it's a wonder we haven't been invaded before."

"But Zim does not belong here." His antennae dropped. "I don't belong anywhere."

I took a moment to think about this. "Well, I don't know. I mean, if you're our invader, I guess you do belong here."

"But Zim is not your invader. Zim is LIES! IT WAS ALL LIES!" His lower lip… thing quivered sadly. "I am a defective. A failure. No longer even a true Irken, without a fully functional PAK. What am I now?"

We sat for a moment, the room still and silent, save for GIR's inappropriately cheerful humming. "You're my alien?"

"WHAT!? ZIM belongs to NO HUMAN."

"But think about it! I'm the only one who knows you're an alien, I'm the one who defends Earth from you, the only one. You're my task. My responsibility. My alien."

I looked down. I don't know when it had happened, but Zim had twisted a little so he was leaning against me, his back against my chest. It was… surprisingly comfortable. My stomach twisted nervously. Why was I feeling like this? I tried to shove the confusion from my head.

"Zim. You ARE an alien."

"…Yes? Why does the Dib stink state the obvious?"

"Because you're the only one who acknowledges me, you're the reason I know I'm not crazy."

Zim sniffled, which in retrospect is impressive given his lack of a nose. "Then why does the Dib smell keep trying to dissect Zim?"

"I was warning you. That others would discover you and dissect you."

"LIES! YOU wanted to DISSECT ME! To DOOM me!"

I thought for a moment. "OK… yes, at the beginning, I guess I did. I just wanted to know how you worked. I still do. Like, what are your antennae for?"

"My MAGNIFICENT head-stems serve a multitude of functions, most of which are beyond your PATHETIC human comprehension. Mainly for display of emotions, perception of scent, sound, and magnetic fields… as well as to scratch the back of my head when it itches." He smiled a little. "We Irkens do not have long arms."

"See? That's all I wanted to know. I thought you would never tell me."

Zim sighed. "I guess I wouldn't have. Not then."

I nodded. A lot had changed in the past seven years. We both had matured (well, me more than Zim), and, from the bits and pieces of his past that I'd been able to piece together from intercepted transmissions, I had started to understand how Zim saw the world. "And your fingers? You only have three…" I gently grabbed his hand, tracing the three finger tendons that ran from his knuckles to his wrist. "Are there names for them? Like thumb and pinkie and stuff?" I'd always been fascinated by his fingers, the way they had an extra joint, the iridescent colors of his nails (claws?), and how long they were compared to mine.

Zim flexed his fingers, a curious and difficult to read expression on his face. He almost never took his gloves off, so I was happy for the opportunity to examine his hands.

"This is my thumb, just like yours. Except BETTER, of course. And this middle one is the flexator, and the short one is the eritor."

"Huh."

"…Yep."

We sat in silence some more, Zim now curled somewhat against me, my hand resting on the back of his. It was… cute? I tapped my chin in thought. Was Zim considered attractive for his species? What were their standards of beauty? And why was I suddenly so curious about how other Irkens viewed him?

"Hey, Zim, put on your disguise. We're going out."

"WHAT!? ZIM does not take ORDERS from lowly HUMANS, no matter how smelly they may be."

"I… wait. What? No, I'm taking you to a bar. We're getting drunk."

"ZIM DEMANDS you tell him what manner of HORRIBLE BEAST could DRINK THE MIGHTY ZIM."

"…No…, I mean I'm getting you… let's see…" I took a moment to figure out how to explain alcohol to Zim. "I am taking you to a place where humans consume chemicals that remove inhibitions and cause a mild sense of euphoria."

"You speak of LEMONADE!" shouted Zim, making me jump. "ZIM approves of this idea. I will have ALL the lemonade. Units and units of lemonade! Oh, the lemonade I shall consume…" He stood triumphantly, and for a moment I saw the old, unflappable Zim.

"Uh… sure."