No. He didn't care. Nope, not at all, not in the slightest. He didn't care about the dark slick liquid that coated his gloves and soaked into his uniform. He didn't care about how the precious life sustaining fluid was coursing out of the limp figure at his feet, or how the human's blood was gushing out between the cracks of his fingers. Nope, not one bit. Nor did he care about Dib's quickly receding warmth, or how the human would writhe and tremble at the Irken's touch. Nope, it totally wasn't gnawing away at his insides, that he had inflicted the wound on the human's side, which currently guzzled blood. He didn't care, he didn't—no couldn't care. He was an Irken invader, invaders didn't experience inferior emotions like regret or guilt. Emotions were for the weak.
But what was this contracting and constricting feeling in his chest, and why did it hurt so much? And why were his hands trembling so badly? Stealing a glance at one of the drawn out PAK legs, he nearly felt sick, his spooch giving a violent lurch forward. The large metal appendage was spattered and dripping with a dark garnet substance, the very weapon that had punctured straight through the human, like a needle through fabric.
Zim's breath came out quick and frantic as realization pooled over him, his ruby eyes growing wide in disbelief; fear even. He had broken the game, smashing and obliterating their careful intricate system of give and take. He had overstepped his boundaries, he had taken it too far. They had had an unspoken agreement about one anothers' authority, but Zim had inadvertently reduced the borders to rubble. They were supposed to have an elaborate system, and as much as he hated to admit it, he and Dib had formed some sort of bond. It wasn't friendship per say, nor an alliance, but more of a 'harmless' rivalry. There had been times where Zim could've easily pulverized the puny insolent human, but he hadn't. Zim also knew the same had been true for Dib, he knew very well, that if Dib had wanted to, there had been equally as many opportunities for him to expose the Irken, but he hadn't either. Zim wasn't really sure what this relationship between himself and the human was, but it was like a mutual balance between them, both ridiculing and making fun of one another, but never overstepping bounds. Had he taken their little game too far?
Another surge of this foreign emotion flooded through Zim's veins, making his legs go weak, causing his knees to buckle under his own weight. He dropped to the concrete, pulling his legs inwards, towards himself, hugging his knees.
His voice weak and raw, he meekly called out in a hoarse whisper, "D- Dib-stink?" Tentatively, he reached a trembling hand forward, poking the said human. His antennae twitched furiously in alarm at Dib's lack of response. He repeated himself, louder this time, continuing to proceed to roll the human over so he could see his face.
Dib's glasses were cracked, thin spider like cracks branching their way out from the main one, slicing through the transparent glass. His eyes remained firmly closed, the gaze of warm honey amber hidden from Zim's desperate prying eyes. Bruises and cuts littered the boy's skin, a small trickle of blood dripping from the corner of his pale lips.
Weakly, barely conscious, Dib muttered hoarsely, "Y- You got me Zim. I guess I failed the Earth huh?" He let out an uneasy nervous laugh, which transitioned into a rough dry cough, as he hacked up some blood. "I- I guess this means you win Space-boy, after all of these years."
Zim had to strain to pick up on the human's words, but once he had caught them and registered what he had said, Zim couldn't help but feel appalled. At one point in time he would've proudly declared victory, and practically would've shoved his proudness down Dib's throat until he practically choked on it, and maybe Zim would've even went as far as staking an Irken flag in his enemy's still-warm corpse. A hard lump formed in the alien's throat as his eyes fell over the human again, his eyes lingering on the wound.
Why did he feel like crying? Damn it all, this was not how invaders were supposed to feel. Clenching his fists, and swallowing his pride, Zim quickly fell to the human's side, applying pressure to the wound and binding it off to stem the bleeding. "You're not dying on my watch stink-beast. What's the point of taking over Earth if I can't gloat about it in your face." Zim mumbled under his breath solemnly, gritting his teeth as the bleeding didn't seem to seize. "Why at you humans so fragile?" He asked more to himself, rather than anyone in particular.
Zim grumbled a stream of Irken curse words under his breath, shaking his head. This isn't working. It's not working. If I can't fix Dib, he's going to die soon with the rate that the blood's draining from his body, he thought irritatedly.
He assumed he could take Dib back to his base and down into the lab and attempt something, but the more Zim thought about it, he began to realize the only anatomy he knew of the human body was what he had been taught in health class, but that didn't mean much coming from teachers who were only solidly there for the paychecks. He was sure Dib wouldn't appreciate some haphazard patch up.
Haphazard or not, one thing was certain, Dib needed something, anything, right now. Desperately, scooping up the human in his arms, he frantically darted across the rooftops of buildings, PAK legs extended and being pushed to the limit.
Once at his base, descended into the lower levels, Zim quickly cleared a table, dropping Dib onto the cold metal surface. Shuffling, he acquired medical tools needed to treat the injury. Never had he ever hated himself for updating the software of his equipment now more than ever. His hands trembled, causing the thread to tread through uneven and jagged, Zim attempted to stitch up the wound after he had sloshed some antiseptic onto the human's skin.
Applying some Irken remedies and medications as well, Zim bound up the injury in bandages. He stepped back and looked upon the pale faced, hollowed cheeks of his nemesis, a frown forming on his lips. His antennae drooping, he could just barely pick up the faint thumping heartbeat of Dib, the rise and fall of the human's chest seemingly strenuous, his breaths coming out labored and forced.
Slapping his hand against Dib's face, hard enough to leave a three fingered stinging handprint, Zim nearly yelled, "Zim has proven that he is menacing and I have completed the indicated surgical operation Dib-stink, Zim demands your immediate praise!"
He stood proudly, waiting any second now for the normal dose of banter. His antennae drooped as only silence conversed with him, its deathly unspoken words nearly choking and suffocating him.
"D- Dib?" He whispered almost inaudibly, poking a claw at the human's non-injured side. Zim realized that humans didn't possess a PAK, but he just couldn't quite understand why Dib hadn't begun healing yet. Did humans lack a natural built-in life support? Surely not, right? That would be stupid and inefficient if they didn't.
He eyed the bandaged wound, gritting his teeth and letting out an aggravated sigh, he scooped up the human in his arms and carried him back up to the ground level of his 'home'. Subconsciously he knew what Dib needed right now was proper medical treatment administered by other fellow humans, but Zim just couldn't bring himself to call an ambulance. He knew he would be bombarded with questions about how Dib had gotten in the state he was in, and Zim knew there was no way he could come up with answers logical enough to satisfy the humans that didn't make him out to be a criminal.
Impatiently Zim thrummed his fingers against the chair arm, the ugly scowl on his face only twisting deeper with every passing minute. Why was it taking so long? Zim knew occasionally in really bad circumstances, Irkens had to be taken to a medical repair bay and be patched up manually, but it would have never taken this long. He had been here for hours now. He had grown bored of this room of waiting after the first five minutes he had been escorted in here. Zim just couldn't quite understand the purpose of this room, or the emotions it seemingly inflicted on the humans occupying the room. Some had leapt and let out shouts of joy, with laughter and happiness bubbling out of their throats, while others seemingly wept endlessly, their voice raspy from tears and hiccups, only sobs escaping their lips, incomprehensible incoherent sputters leaving their mouths as they shuddered uncontrollably.
"Membrane?" A nurse called, looking up from a clipboard. "Dib Membrane?"
Immediately Zim shot up out of the dilapidated overused recliner, the pupils of his contacts dilating. Quickly, he rushed over to the nurse, staring her down with expectant eyes.
The nurse eyed him suspiciously, her lips pursed and her brows sharply declined. "Are you an immediate member of Mr. Membrane's family?"
Zim opened his mouth and began to say something, but he paused. A family. He didn't exactly have one of those...
"Well no..." he mumbled quietly, "But I-"
"I'm sorry then sir, but if you're not an immediate family member, I can't let you see him."
"And why not?!" The Irken nearly yelled. "You dare invoke the wrath of the almighty ZIM?! Zim demands an explanation! I demand to see Dib! Do you know how long I've been sitting in that damn filthy pig-smelly chair?!"
The woman flinched at the alien's harsh tone and the sudden inclination of his voice. "There are some..." The woman paused for a second. "...Complications with Mr. Membrane's condition. Our first concern is getting ahold of the family and informing them of... the misfortunes that have occurred."
"What 'complications' do you speak of?" Zim asked skeptically, arms crossed firmly over his chest. "Zim did an amazing job with his stitching."
The woman exhaled sharply, her patience clearly drawing thin. "I can't discuss these details with you-"
"THE ALMIGHTY ZIM COMMANDS YOU PATHETIC HUMAN, TO TAKE HIM TO DIB!" The Irken growled, interrupting the nurse mid-sentence, his eyes narrowed into slits and his mouth twisted into an ugly scowl.
Grumbling under her breath, and rolling her eyes, she led Zim into Dib's designated room. She was not going to deal with, and tolerate this obnoxious green skinned teen throwing a tantrum.
A devious smirk surfacing across the alien's face, he hummed a slight tune of triumph.
"This is his room. Please keep your voice down and try not to plague him with questions. Just pretend everything is normal, and play along with him, even if he doesn't recognize you." The nurse advised, before she left Zim to his own devices.
Zim scoffed under his breath. As if! Why would the Dib-Thing not recognize his own AMAZING nemesis?, Zim thought to himself, waving a gloved hand dismissively. Without hesitation, he then strutted confidently into the room of ivory, relentless beeping and the sound of the IV drip filling Zim's auditory senses. His antennae involuntarily twitched underneath his wig at the sound of shuffling sheets.
Dib stared blankly at the green skinned teenager standing at the foot of his bed. He blinked slowly, trying to refocus his bleary vision, the painkillers and anesthesia still heavy in his system. He couldn't quite place why this strange looking lime skinned boy was in his room. What was his name again? His name was... Jam... No that wasn't right... Zam? No... his name was... Zim! His name was Zim. Dib vaguely recognized him from Skool, and he remembered that he sat across the room from him, but aside from that, Dib was drawing a blank and just couldn't quite piece it together. He felt like there was a slight haze cast over his mind, like he was missing some vital pieces to completing the puzzle. But why couldn't he recall the familiarity?
"Z- Zim?" Dib croaked hoarsely, his voice raspy and harsh. His head was reeling, and the fact that he felt some sort of connection to Zim, but he wasn't sure why, or what this 'connection' even was, it deeply bothered him. "Wh- What are you doing here?"
Zim merely chuckled, another devious smirk plastered across his face. "I believe this encounter is another victory for Zim! Tell me Dib-stink, how was it, having your precious life juices leave your body? Did I instill fear upon you?" Zim asked morbidly, looming over the confused human boy, expectantly waiting for an answer.
"Dib... Stink?" The dark haired boy repeated with uncertainty, confusion laced in his tone. "Precious life juices? What are you talking about? Actually... why are you talking to me?"
Zim paused, his expression falling, an antenna threatening to raise inquisitively. Regaining his arrogant composure, the invader cleared his throat and firmly crossed his arms over his chest. "Haha, very funny Dib, nice one trying to play innocent on me. You know exactly what I'm talking about."
Dib narrowed his eyes, slightly cocking his head to one side. "I don't understand." Dib stated simply, no ulterior motives hidden within his warm honey amber irises. "And why is your skin green? And you don't have any ears...or a nose either... Why is that?"
Zim couldn't understand why Dib was playing so coy, what was the meaning of this?! Letting out a nervous laugh, Zim jabbed the teenage boy in his non-injured side with his elbow. "It's a skin condition." He joked, waiting any second now for the human to snap out of his trance and start acting like normal.
Dib stared at the alien skeptically for a while, staring intently into Zim's lavender eyes and glancing between them and his conspicuous wig. Something felt off about Zim's appearance, but why? "If you say so...but I haven't heard of any disorders that causes someone's skin to be green." Dib murmured, shaking his head. "Maybe I'll ask Dad about it later," he mumbled under his breath.
"LIES!" The Irken screeched. Zim clenched his fists, gritting his teeth. Why wasn't Dib getting this? Was he doing it to piss the Irken off on purpose? "Remember, I'm an invader of the mighty Irken Armada, destined to conquer your filthy dirt ball of a planet!" Zim declared proudly, his stance prideful and haughty, gloved hands perched on his hips. He waited almost anxiously for the human to retort back with the usual, 'Not while I'm here Space-boy! I'll defend Earth with my life.'
Irken. Dib knew that word from somewhere...but why couldn't he remember what it meant? Rolling the word around his head, analyzing it, he came to the conclusion, deducing that it was nothing more than make-believe gibberish.
"Zim... Did we become friends at some point?" This strange but unfamiliar familiarity was killing Dib, so he decided to get the question off his chest.
Zim nearly howled in laughter at the human's insolent idiotic question. "F- Friends with Zim? As if! Invaders need NO ONE! We're archenemies, Zim is the very bane of your puny pathetic existence."
This only confused Dib even more so. He rubbed his trembling hands along his temples. Damn it all, why couldn't he remember any specifics about Zim?—stuff he felt like he should've known.
Zim clenched and unclenched his fists, the tight line on his lips only growing deeper, a slight growl rippling out of his throat. "Dib-worm stop whatever this is, that you're doing! Zim isn't so feeble minded to fall for your stupid earth-monkey trickery! I will not succumb to such simpleminded deception!" The alien announced, the tone of his voice steadily rising.
Suddenly the nurse from previously, entered the room, a scowl of disapproval clearly evident on her face. Menacingly, she then grabbed ahold of the Irken's wrist and jerked him outside of the hospital room. "I thought I told you to keep your voice down, and also to not get frustrated with Membrane and start yelling at him! I recall I told you to play along with him if he didn't recognize you! He has retrograde amnesia. We're not sure what core memories the trauma on his body has caused to be wiped from his temporal lobe, but don't push him over the edge. We haven't made him aware of his situation yet, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The woman stated sternly, gesturing Zim to go down the hall to the elevator.
Zim eyed back and forth between the woman's extended index finger and the closed metal doors of the elevator. "You want Zim to...leave?"
Without any hesitation the nurse nodded affirmatively.
For a brief moment Zim thought about summoning his PAK legs and using their lasers to threaten the puny human, but his logic pulled through and got the best of him once he remembered how many security cameras he had seen. The last thing he needed right now was to be captured and discovered by the FBI. He shuddered at the thought of the tortuous and horrific experimentation he would be subjected to if his mission were compromised by Earth authorities.
With reluctance, he pivoted on one foot and marched towards the elevator, pressing the call button. He could feel the nurse's eyes following him every step of the way, like needles pricking his skin. Once it had arrived, he descended downwards to the ground level.
The more Zim thought about it, he didn't even know what the condition the pig-smelly had said that Dib had, even was. Retrograde amnesia. The words felt foreign on his tongue. Never had he ever heard the word 'Amnesia' during the duration of time he had spent on Earth. He concluded that he would conduct further research once he returned to his base.
Swiveling around in his chair, the monitors' dim lighting illuminating his face, the content of the screen reflecting in his crimson eyes, Zim skimmed over the Irken characters that scrolled across one of the many screens. He thrummed his claws against the arm of his chair, grumbling and muttering to himself under his breath.
"Computer, define retrograde amnesia." He barked arrogantly.
With a slight whirring noise, a few seconds later the computer replied back automatically in its monotone voice, "Retrograde amnesia, a loss of memory-access to events that occurred, or information that was learned, before an injury or the onset of a disease."
"Loss of memory access...?" Zim repeated slowly, reaching back behind him and rubbing his hand along the slick cold metal of his PAK. He shuddered at the thought of losing his memories, and his very personality. His face suddenly paled once he realized the computer had mentioned, 'injury'. It dawned on Zim that Dib had this so called amnesia, because of him. Because he had taken their game too far, because he had gotten angry and frustrated. "So... Dib doesn't remember that I'm an Irken invader, and he's forgotten of his vow to protect the Earth from my mission..." The alien murmured to himself, letting this new revelation sink in.
The almighty Zim could conquer Earth with no hinderances now, he thought triumphantly, a smirk surfacing across his pale green lips. His crimson orbs momentarily darting over to a large test tube containing a horrid mutant of some sort. His expression suddenly fell at the thought of how easy this task would be without Dib to thwart his plans. Why did this bother him so much, and why did his heart contract at thought of destroying the Earth and more specifically his ex-nemesis? He knew he should've been reveling in his unchallenging, effortless soon-to-be victory, but something inside him just couldn't. It hurt. Success wasn't supposed to hurt. It was supposed to be fulfilling and it was supposed bring upon a sense of establishment and triumph, but why...why did Zim feel so empty?
He shook his head furiously, surely he had just caught a filthy Earth illness or maybe quite simply Dib had poisoned him before he had gotten amnesia. That was the only explanation that made sense to Zim to explain the sudden onslaught of foreign emotions. Irkens weren't supposed to feel inferior emotions, especially not invaders. He refused to believe these feelings meant anything more, Dib was merely a source of entertainment, and quite simply one of the only competent beings on this filthy planet, nothing more nothing less; a formidable rival.
Growling to himself, Zim stood up and brushed himself off, his claws lingering on the dark dried stain on his uniform. "Stupid Dib-human, soiling my almighty uniform with his filthy life juices!" He grumbled, marching off in search of cleansing chalk, this time being affirmative that there was no bacon in it.
Fiddling with his pencil, Zim would occasionally steal glances across the classroom at his former would-be nemesis. His heart contracting in his chest and plunging into his spooch at the absence of the normal returned glare. It had been almost two weeks now. The sheer matter of the situation frustrated the Irken, making him want to tug on the ends of his antennae. No matter how many times he had tried to inadvertently bring Dib back to his senses, and had tried to respark a memory of their rivalry, he was only brushed off with a look of confusion. Growling, he gripped the yellow wooden writing utensil in his clenched hands, trembling from anger. Viscously, he then ripped it in half, contemplating throwing it at the dark haired boy's head.
Zim knew those warm honey amber irises weren't the same anymore, they were different somehow. They lacked that shimmer of determination and perseverance that they once had, and this infuriated Zim, almost making him believe the human had lost his memory on purpose. Had this aforementioned syndrome been a desperate lunge at revenge by the Dib-thing? He clutched a clawed hand at his heart, gritting his teeth at the unfamiliar contracting and expanding of the organ in his chest. His heart throbbed painfully and unbearably in his chest, the organ thrumming painfully against the barrier of bones with each contraction. The emotions that came with each throbbing heartbeat had nearly driven the invader insane (more than usual), making him want to rip out the organ himself.
Lately he'd felt a sense of longing, longing for times long before, longing for the pointless banter, longing for the petty nicknames, longing for the tender pain and aftermath of bruises after they'd have a fight. Hell he even missed having Dib as an intellectual conversation partner. He couldn't even remember the last time he had slipped out a maniacal laugh or quite in fact the last time he had eaten. Everything about Dib stressed him out now, and every time, it was like a metaphorical punch to gut when Dib seemed to look right past him, like he weren't even there.
He distinctly remembered the heavy sensation on his shoulders of nothingness, and the brief lack of motivation he had endured when Dib had temporarily lost interest in the paranormal, when he had given it up for 'real' science. He remembered how at first, the absence of Dib's otherwise constantly nagging presence, was a brief sensation of euphoria; Nothing to get in his way, nothing to stop him, it was glorious. That is, until it wasn't. Scheming wasn't enjoyable anymore, and he remembered clearly how his spooch would tie itself into knots at each initiation of a new plot, though he'd never dare admit it, he'd be anxiously awaiting to have his brilliant plans foiled. He'd hit a wall then, losing his sense of purpose, constantly dwelling and drowning in the abyss of feeling something and feeling nothing at all, suffocating on his own incompetence. Something he believed the humans called, 'depression'.
Truthfully what he was feeling now, wasn't that dissimilar to what he had felt before. This was almost worse. He was on the threshold of breaking, and he was desperate. He had never taken the liberty to realize that the boy with scythe like hair was his lifeline. Desperately he was grasping for that single frayed thread that he knew wasn't there, to pull himself out the endless void of darkness. This perception of pain was one Zim knew his PAK wouldn't be able to dissipate, one he knew all of the pain killers in the universe couldn't terminate.
Stupid Dib and his stupid hypnotism. Curse his stupid gargantuan head and his stupid trench coat, Zim rambled to himself internally as he looked over the features of the said human.
Scowling, he dug out a sheet of notebook paper. Then, taking the pointed end of his dismembered pencil, he scribbled down a hasty doodle of the Irken insignia, scrawling next to it 'Your planet will be mine! I will conquer this filthy ball of dirt you call home!' Furiously, he then crumpled the sheet of paper up into a tight compact ball. Once sure his teacher's attention was focused elsewhere, cautious as to not invoke the wrath of his vicious instructor, he then chucked the ball of paper across the room at Dib's head.
Zim's scowl only deepened as he watched the ball ricochet off of the said human's head. What aggravated him even more, was that Dib had ignored the action entirely. Growling and grumbling under his breath, he reared back and hurled the sharpened end of his pencil at Dib's head.
"Ow!" Dib half whispered, half yelped, diverting his attention away from the lecture of doom. Rubbing the side of his head at the point of impact, he glanced down at the floor at the broken pencil now rolling away from his desk. Looking around the room for his assailant, he locked eyes with the green skinned teenager. He could almost sense something violent in Zim's lavender irises. Shooting him a glare and a dirty look, Dib began to slowly turn his attention back to the lesson. That is, until he felt another crumpled ball of paper make contact with his skin. Exhaling sharply he turned towards the invader, eyes narrowed, mouthing, 'What do you want?'
A smirk surfacing across the Irken's features, he used his hands and made an unwrapping motion as he pointed at the first crumpled ball at the foot of Dib's desk.
Sighing and shaking his head, Dib cautiously leaned over the edge of his desk and grabbed the crumpled papers, slowly uncurling them. He couldn't understand why the foreign kid wouldn't leave him alone. His eyes skimmed over the halfhearted written message, the phrase making a scoff escape his lips. Shaking his head in disbelief, he sighed in annoyance and just in turn gave the invader a puzzled shrug.
At the gesture, Zim's smirk quickly fell to a deep frown, his prideful posture sinking and slumping down into his seat. He didn't know why he even bothered with the insolent oblivious human anymore.
Across the room, Dib turned once more to face the front, but he found his eyes lingering on the insignia drawn by the Irken. He pursed his lips, examining it carefully. He knew he'd seen this symbol before, but he couldn't recall where or when. Tracing his index finger around the edges of the shapes, he cocked his head to one side in thought. Suddenly a he felt a spark go off in his neurons, a single cog in his brain turning in recognition. Suddenly he connected the word 'Irken' with the symbol, and he could feel knowledge coursing through him like it were on the tip of tongue, but he just couldn't quite recall it. He often had these bouts with the green skinned teenager, and it was frustrating that he always felt like he were missing something.
Grunting in frustration, he pressed a hand at one of his temples as he stole a glance in the direction of the invader out of the corner of his eye. Readjusting his glasses, he sighed and shook his head pensively, folding the piece of paper delicately as he stuffed it into his trench coat pocket.
Abruptly the bell signaling the end of the school day erupted and sliced through the teacher's mutterings of doom. Almost immediately, students sprung up at the sound of freedom and clambered out of any doors or windows readily available.
Upon exiting himself, Dib stood under the overhang of the roof, his head turned skywards as he took in the dark ominous cumulonimbus clouds hanging overhead. His eyes darted across the skyline, following it, as a bright flash of lightning cascaded across the clouds, a threatening roar of thunder accompanying it. Tentatively, he stuck his hand out from underneath the protection of the roof, his hand being coated in droplets of rainwater.
"It's raining." He mumbled. Seconds later, the clouds seemed to drop their imminent release of pelting rainwater, creating a heavy downpour. He noticed the usual practice of his fellow classmates rejoicing in the rain, jumping and splashing in the accumulating puddles, all of them except one particular green skinned teenager.
Coming up alongside him, Gaz approached, umbrella in hand. "Let's go. I'm leaving now, and I'm not waiting for you. You can get soaked for all I care, I'm not gonna stand here and wait while you stare off into space." His sister called coldly as she opened up her umbrella, beginning to trudge forward without her brother.
"W- Wait Gaz, I'm coming!" Dib quickly blurted, stumbling underneath her umbrella.
Gaz turned and looked at her brother, an eyebrow quirked. "You're not going to chase after Zim like usual?" She asked with sarcasm dripping in her tone, a force of habit, but quickly she cut herself off, realizing she had slipped out information she wasn't supposed to. Professor Membrane had decided that it was best to keep the fact that he had amnesia, hidden from Dib. With the amnesia came a sense of 'sanity', or least that's what Membrane thought, so he preferred to keep it that way, hoping that perhaps Dib would once again strike an interest in 'real' science.
Dib furrowed his brows in confusion. "Why would I do that?" He asked rhetorically, taking a moment to peer over his shoulder at the said invader. He watched in mild amusement as Zim flailed around in desperate anguish, screaming in pain. Having to do a double take as he watched the Irken flee in the direction of his house. He could've swore he saw steam corroding off of the alien. His pupils dilated as he felt another cog click into action in his head, he felt one step closer to unlocking whatever it was he was forgetting, but he could still feel all the information coursing through his veins, burning him and begging to be rediscovered, but it was all just barely beyond his reach.
Zim hissed and screeched in agony at top of his nonexistent lungs all the way, as he staggered and thrashed his way to his base of operations. Never had he ever been more relieved to see the gnomes littering his front yard.
Panting he quickly slammed the front door shut behind him, sliding down the door. Squeezing his eyes shut he leaned his head back against the cool slick surface.
Getting back onto his feet, he stomped and kicked at the floor in irritation yelling curses in Irken. "How could I have been so stupid?!" Gritting his teeth he then yanked off the wig atop his head and dropped the sopping wet clump of hair on the floor, shortly after ditching his contact lenses. He had been so wrapped up in the Dib-worm lately, he had totally neglected checking the weather forecasts. How had he forgotten to apply paste? Exhaling sharply he rubbed a gloved hand against his sore burning skin. Oh how he hated rain, Earth and its water be damned.
He groaned as he was greeted by his faulty Sir unit, the little robot waving at him enthusiastically from the couch. "HIII MASTAH!"
His antennae pulled back flat against his head, he reluctantly took a seat next to Gir on the couch. As per the usual, Zim noted the robot had been watching some dumb human tv programming.
Slowly, Gir turned his head and looked at Zim, a smile plastered on his face with his little pink tongue poking out of the corner.
"What?" Zim asked almost annoyed as the Sir unit continued smiling at him. The next thing Zim knew a plush pig had been dropped off in his lap. "Gir, you dare invoke the wrath of Zim-"
Zim was suddenly cut off as the said robot sprung up and declared, "You's just stay here and watch mah piggeh. Imma makes you some food."
Zim shuddered at the thought of Gir in the kitchen. "No Gir, I'm perfectly capable of getting my own food-"
"But Master, you's hasn't haded any food for days now. Aren't you hungry?" The Sir asked, continuing to smile innocently.
"I'm fine." Zim insisted. "My PAK provides all of the nutrients I need to function, eating isn't mandatory."
"Yes it is." Gir argued, pointing a hand up at the ceiling. "The Computer sez so."
Almost as if on cue, the computer stated monotonously, "Irken's PAKs supply the necessary nutrients to sustain the body for daily primary functions, however eating is necessary in order to keep the body functioning at optimal performance levels."
Zim shot a glare up at the ceiling, towards the ducts and tubes littering above, agitated with the disembodied software that saw and knew nearly all.
"Imma go make you's some TACOS!" Gir screeched, giggling as he dashed off into the kitchen.
Zim flinched and squeezed his eyes shut as he heard a pan rattle and hit the floor, the sound of a mini explosion following shortly after. Also, he couldn't help but cringe as he heard horrendous squishing sounds emanating from the kitchen. "For the love of Irk, please don't let anything catch on fire." He mumbled, grabbing the remote and flipping through channels. He was not in the mood for Gir's nonsense today. Gir's humming wasn't giving him any reassurance.
"ITZ DONE!" Gir screeched proudly, seconds later flopping down on the couch next to Zim, with a plate filled and stacked to the brim with tacos. "You wants one?"
Zim looked at the concoction his Sir unit had created, and one look at the greasy dripping meat, nearly made him gag. "No." Zim replied firmly, crossing his arms over his chest, his antennae twitching. He shuddered and grimaced in disgust as Gir began to chew insidiously, crumbs spewing everywhere as toppings and grease dropped down the edges of his Sir's metal frame. Oh the crumbs! With each crumb that surfaced across the checkered tile floor or snagged between the crevice of the couch cushions, Zim felt as though sharp needles had pierced his skin with each individual crumb.
He opened his mouth to scold the Sir, but he paused, his antennae drooping. What was the point anymore? Closing his mouth, he readjusted his position and bit his tongue, sulking as another deep frown surfaced across his face.
"You're not gonna yell at me?" Gir asked suspiciously, his head cocked to one side as he looked at his master. Just for good measure, Gir then threw the glass plate, causing it to break, sending glass shards almost everywhere.
Sighing, Zim shook his head. "Maybe later." He pulled his knees in towards himself, hugging them close. Dib kept nagging his thoughts, and Zim would be lying if he said he didn't miss the human's presence. He felt a surge of these strange, not so foreign anymore, emotions course through his bloodstream again. He didn't have a name for these feelings, but they were like a pestilent poison, he felt like they were slowly killing him and eating him alive, if anything, he were drowning in them. He felt heavy and empty inside.
As oblivious as Gir was, he paused and continued to stare at his curled up master, grease still dripping from his mouth. "Mastah?" He may not have been the brightest crayon in the box, but even he could sense there was something wrong with Zim's response.
"Leave me alone Gir!" Zim yelled at the Sir, his tone coming out more harsh and violent than he had intended.
The robot sniveled and looked like he were on the verge of tears. Hugging his stuffed pig close, Gir stood up and marched into the kitchen. Talking to his pig, Gir said, "Mastah must be sad cuz the big headed boy ain't here! C'mon Piggy, we're gonna make Master feel better!" Grinning adorably, the Sir unit then rummaged through the pantry, grabbing an array of Irken snacks, ones he knew Zim had strictly put off limits since he made it brutally clear that these were his. Holding them in his arms he then trotted back to the couch, his master still sulking and curled deep in thought like he had left him.
"Look I broughts you some of those snacky things you like so much." Gir stated proudly, dropping them next to the invader.
Looking up briefly, Zim's antennae twitched at the sight of food. Diverting his gaze and turning his head arrogantly, he murmured. "I'm not hungry. I don't want it. Put them back in the storage containers Gir." Almost as if to protest, he felt his spooch growl in defiance. Sputtering, a lavender blush coming over his cheeks in embarrassment, Zim quickly drew his legs in tighter, hoping this would reinforce his statement, despite how his body had reacted.
"Imma jus leave these here." Gir stated simply, frolicking back off into the kitchen since his couch had been abducted.
Zim growled under his breath in annoyance as he turned off the tv. Readjusting himself, he reached over the edge of the couch and grabbed at his wig and his contact lenses. As a precaution he then slipped on his disguise. Satisfied, he then announced to his Sir unit, "Gir, I'll be going into stasis mode for a few hours. Guard the base valiantly."
Irkens didn't need sleep, it wasn't mandatory and it was purely optional. Zim wasn't even sure if 'sleep' was the correct term for it, since he could set how long he wanted to stay in an unconscious unfeeling state. He remembered how initially he had thought that stasis mode was incompetent and a waste of his precious time, but now he found it more enticing. He found himself going into it more and more frequently, enough to the point it was almost the only thing he wanted to do anymore. This state of conscious unconsciousness blocked everything out, it blocked out his emotions, and it was temporary consolation from the pain of Dib. It nullified and numbed everything, and he liked that.
Gir, donning his dog disguise happily wiggled and danced his way up the sidewalk to the front of the green house, his master's beforehand instructions already long forgotten. Waltzing up to the front door, he then opened it to find Zim standing hunched over, his hands clenched and trembling. Gir paused, watching the Irken from the doorframe. Zim then seemingly reared back and brought his fist down on his own arm, continually repeating the process over and over.
"Master what are you doing?" Gir asked inquisitively, coming up alongside the invader, peering up at him.
Zim ignored the Sir's question and continued pounding his fists against his own skin, the impact sending sharp contractions of pain through his system. He'd found physical pain to be a coping mechanism, a therapy of sorts. He was addicted to the sensation of pain, the feeling one of the only things reminding him he were alive. After musing through memories, and numbing his senses, he'd realized Dib was slipping away. He slowly came to an abrupt stop as he took notice of the dark green patches of tender bruises forming along his pale green skin.
"Master?"
Not looking up, as he withdrew his lasers from his PAK, Zim replied, "I'm replicating the aftermath of a fight with the Dib-human."
Letting out a hiss of pain as he felt lasers burn through his skin, Zim cupped a gloved hand over the newly formed cut, as rivulets of clearish pink blood began to trail down his arm. He gasped and stumbled backwards, his pupils dilating as he caught sight of his own blood, the sight retriggering the memory of when he had fought with Dib, the incident that had caused it all, washing back over him. He remembered the dark garnet substance tainting and staining his gloves, and he remembered how it oozed and gushed from the wound on Dib's side, contributing to an ever growing puddle of scarlet.
His knees buckling underneath him, unable to support his weight, Zim's breath fell ragged as he felt like screaming like a stuck up smeet throwing a tantrum. Yelling in frustration he felt something warm and wet congregating at the edges of his eyes. Weakly, he brought a gloved hand to his eyes, rubbing away the tears before his Sir unit could say anything. Invaders didn't cry, and they weren't overcome by stupid emotions like sadness.
Closing his eyes, and regaining his composure, he stood up and let out a slow shaky breath to calm his nerves. He was an invader damn it, he wasn't supposed to need anyone. But why did he feel like he needed Dib? Shaking his head, he gritted his teeth, he was not going to let these emotions devour him any longer. Do or die, he concluded that this was going to be his final last-ditch effort to rekindle the flame within Dib. If this didn't do it, then he knew he would need to get over himself and move on, as much as it hurt him to admit it, he knew it was true. He had neglected his mission from the Tallests for far too long, and as a soldier, he knew the Empire was supposed to come first.
Withdrawing a voice recorder that would self destruct after being played, Zim recorded a quick message. Satisfied, he then pawned it off on his Sir unit. "Gir, deliver Zim's message to the Dib-human. That's an order." He barked.
Gir's cyan parts flashing red, he saluted and spouted off a, "Yes, my master." Before he took heed of following commands.
Zim tapped his foot impatiently, his arms crossed firmly over his chest as his antennae twitched in anxiety beneath his wig. More than anything he wanted this to work. He'd never admit it aloud, but he needed Dib. Dib was his lifeline, his oxygen, the ground under his feet. Dib was supposed to be that steady threshold that kept him together, the glue that fabricated the very essence of his arrogance and his Zimness.
His last ditch plan was to reenact their last fight before everything had went lopsided. He planned to expose himself in this same dank alleyway that they had fought in previously and to use his PAK legs to reenact when he had pierced through the human once before. Of course though, he had set precautions to avoid being seen by other humans. Zim could feel anxiety knotting in his spooch and clawing through his veins like a feral rabid animal. The waiting was killing him.
He felt his muscles go tense as he listened to the sound of approaching footsteps, the echoing sounds growing louder and more prominent. Swallowing the hard lump in his throat, curling and uncurling his fists, he mentally prepared himself for the confrontation.
Standing at the mouth of the alleyway, Dib stood cautious and weary. "Zim? What is this about? Why did want to meet in an alley?" Dib asked slowly, every hair on his body on edge, a shiver cascading down his spine.
"Dib-worm, Zim is sick of these games. I'm going to end them now and reset your brain meats so that we may once again be formidable rivals. Conquering is boring and unfulfilling without some sort of challenge."
Without another word, Zim then ripped off the wig and he'd shed his contacts, revealing his natural Irken self. Upon summoning his PAK legs, the metal appendages instilled fear upon Dib, the metal pointed ends and the green creature before him making his heart double in tenfold.
Stumbling backwards onto his behind, Dib backed away and pointed an accusatory finger at Zim, his hand trembling. "Wh- What are you?! Y- You're an alien?!"
"A mighty Irken invader." Zim corrected, his PAK legs clicking against the asphalt as he approached the human. Pinning him down, Zim then drew back a PAK leg and reared it, ready to plunge it into the the human's organs. However as he thrashed it down, he felt it lock just above where Dib's other wound was, stopping only a few mere millimeters from connecting with the human's skin. He couldn't bring himself to follow through with it. What was wrong with him?
Dib's breath hitched as he felt another cog turn, yet it still wasn't enough to fully access what he needed. Still nearly paralyzed by fear, Dib furiously ripped through his trench coat pocket looking for the weapon he had instilled within it before he had left his home. He assumed something sketchy would happen, considering Zim had asked to meet in a back alley in the middle of the night, but never had he ever anticipated this. Originally he had just brought the firearm as insurance and as a precaution, he hadn't actually intended to use it. However his will to survive getting the best of him, with his amnesia still hazy and strong, with trembling hands he withdrew the gun and locked his finger on the trigger, and fired.
Zim's eyes widened, this hadn't been part of his plan. Dib wasn't supposed to be a casualty. He could tell that from the angle the bullet was fired, since Dib's aim hadn't been precise, it would ricochet off one of his PAK legs, and it would inadvertently be deflected back at human, instead, striking Dib through the chest instead of himself.
In that split moment of indecision, Zim knew he had to do something. Torn between potential literal or psychological death, he knew one or the other was inevitable. He had looked death straight in eyes one too many times, and he knew by the gut-clenching feeling churning in his spooch and the rigid chills that traced up his spine, that this was it. He had undoubtedly reached the end of the road to ruin, this was rock bottom.
He could almost see everything around him traverse as if it were in slow motion, but could still feel the grains of time slipping through the cracks of his fingers far too quickly. No matter how desperately he fought to stop the hands of time itself, time was an invincible enemy to all.
Gritting his teeth and forking up his pride, in that split second of what he would never admit as fear, he pushed aside all things Irken and he dropped down off of his PAK legs and shoved Dib out of the way. He wasn't sure what these foreign and inferior emotions that were coursing through his veins were, or what had come over him, but in that split second he had briefly neglected his training as an elite soldier and had abandoned a key factor to Battle Tactics 101; Dispose of the enemy. He could remember the phrase clearly, remembering every syllable and the stress behind the collection of words, 'Dispose of the enemy, whether it be by your own means or by another, eliminating threats are the cornerstone to bringing victory for the Empire.'
Dib was supposed to be the enemy, wasn't he?
The next thing Zim knew his vision grew bleary and everything began to fade into a dull black, darkness quickly corroding the edges of his vision. Then came the deafening bang that nearly made Zim stagger and drop to his knees from the too loud roar, heinous on his sensitive antennae, the said stalks twitching wildly and furiously in sheer pain at the mini explosion. Accompanied by the paralyzed state, then came the searing white hot agony that coursed through every vein. Unable to contain it, a shrill cry of pain erupted out of the Irken's throat as he writhed in agony, his hands desperately clawing at the open flesh wound on his chest, blood pouring mercilessly from the bullet wound, his uniform and his gloves becoming tainted with his blood.
"You stupid insolent human!" Zim hissed, writhing in agony at Dib's feet.
Hands trembling far too much, Dib's grip on the firearm slacked and he dropped the gun, he himself falling to his knees. He pressed his hands against his temples in denial as all of the memories came flooding back. His love of the paranormal, everything about Zim, the spark of determination and perseverance rekindling in his soul. "Oh God what have I done." He murmured, his mouth hanging agape.
"I guess that makes us even now, Dib-worm." Zim choked, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Through his fading vision, he could sense those warm honey amber eyes, the ones that were meant to belong to Dib Membrane. "Welcome back Dib-stink."
Never had Dib ever thought he'd be embracing the alien. "You idiot." He murmured pensively shaking his head. "Why did you do that? Wouldn't Earth be easier to conquer without me Space-boy?"
"Too easy." Zim replied arrogantly, letting out a sigh as he felt his PAK release painkillers into his bloodstream to alleviate the pain. The whirring of his PAK also gave him reassurance as he knew this meant it was working to fix his injury as quickly as possible. "Where's the fun in invading, if there's no challenge? Zim is an elite after all." The Irken admitted, stating it in a matter-of-fact manner, his cheeks growing slightly warm and laced with blush as he weakly pulled himself up, still clutching his chest.
"Revenge is bittersweet." Dib said thoughtfully as he released his hold on the Irken. His own cheeks flushing as he let out a nervous laugh. Then Dib mumbled, almost inaudibly. "T- Thanks Zim. Thank you for... y'know returning my memories and all."
Zim quirked an eyebrow, "A measly thanking of Zim is all I shall receive for all of my dutiful efforts? Zim demands better than that." The Irken said distastefully, holding his hand out greedily, expecting to be paid grandly in monies. "Gimme."
Dib pursed his lips, eyeing the Irken's hand. Digging through his pockets, he only found the wrinkled folded piece of paper Zim had written on from earlier. Sighing, diverting his gaze, he then closed his eyes and leaned forward, interlocking his lips with the alien's, one hand on the Irken's jawline, the other gently caressing one of Zim's antennae.
Zim's eyes widened in disbelief and he began to protest and shove Dib away from him, that is, until he felt the human's hand on an antenna. Pure pleasure and dopamine flooded his system and he inadvertently ended up leaning into the kiss. Maybe... Maybe this isn't so bad, Zim admitted to himself.
After pulling away, heat corroding both of the teenagers' cheeks, with blush lacing across their faces, Dib stared into wide crimson otherworldly orbs. The human observed that at least Zim's antennae weren't reared back flat against his head, so at the very least the alien wasn't going to kill him for what he had just done.
Unable to meet Dib's gaze, Zim stuttered almost incoherently, "Zim supposes that was...satisfactory and to his liking." Pausing and fidgeting uneasily, Zim then pointed a claw at Dib. "Praise me again Dib-worm! Zim demands you!"
Surprised, Dib's pupils dilated as a smirk surfaced across his lips. "Whatever you say Space-boy." He had no problems with carrying out Zim's demand. Truthfully he hadn't minded the kiss too much himself. Plus he knew, that within those entrancing crimson orbs, lied the key to unlocking the universe and the vast galaxies above, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized, he may of already been holding the universe in his hands. His universe; Zim, where everything only revolved around him and the Irken.
A/N: Thanks for reading this one shot I threw together! This was my first fic for this fandom, so my apologies if everyone was way too OOC (which it was probably was, especially since there was amnesia... oops). Regardless though, if you enjoyed, please leave me a review and a favorite, any feedback is greatly appreciated :)
-The~Candy~Craving~Demon