Change of Pace
For Tif and Meg
Part Two- A Smile in the Light
/When I have nothing left to feel.
When I have nothing left to say
I'll just let this slip away.
I feel these engines power down.
I feel this heart begin to bleed
As I turn this burning page.
I have words I need to say. / -VNV Nation, "Forsaken"
/Don't give them a chance to beg,/ he whispers into my ear. /Don't give them a chance to breathe a word of their pain into your ear. Sympathy will kill you./
Sympathy will destroy my objective.
/Yes. And the objective?/
To rid the human race of its misery. To destroy all that is dark- all that is undeserving of an existence.
/You're saving them from themselves./
I'm saving them from themselves. They have no reason to live anymore. I'm liberating them from the chains they create from their own waste, their hatred, their hypocrisy, their own impurity.
/Your hatred-/
Comes from experience.
/Your focus-/
From years of pain.
/Your source-/
.../they/ did this to me.
He pauses for a moment, and then smiles. His arm, draped with a black cloak, sweeps over me. I close my eyes. They made me this way. It is time that they suffer for it.
"SHIT!" I heave my sweaty chest upwards, and breathe deeply. I shouldn't let myself fall asleep like that. A dream of a nightmare- an experience I would never enjoy the pleasure of forgetting.
I did not know who the hell was in that dream with me. Whoever he was, he'd been haunting me ever since that night...
That night I'd rather not think about.
I throw off my cloak- used briefly as a blanket- and sit up. I am in the car again; after running away from the house I realize that I need one more night to contemplate. To plan. Matters are drastically changed. I have to compensate, and-
"Do you think that they can survive?"
I jerk my head around. "Who said that?!" My ear tingles, as if moist lips had briefly breathed into it. My heart slows down and my breathing returns to normal. This is what I get for letting my fatigue get the best of me.
Outside, an alley cat makes noise that shatters the silence so roughly one might think it would bring seven years bad luck. All is quiet after a moment; the ephemeral noise leaves behind an unsettling silence, as though the world were listening to my every move, every thought in my mind.
"Silence will drive you-"
I jerk back awake as my heart races again. The voice- not my own- was this time accompanied by a fleeting feeling of rough hands against my shoulders. The voice- a whisper- is of the only nightmares that I cannot kill.
"Please... please, go away... I don't have what you want..." I whisper under my breath. He and I both know it is a lie, but I bite my lip and hope the voice will leave. I am half inclined to rip out my ears and claw at my brain, but I only clench my fists and concentrate on other things. After awhile I decide it is safe to relax. My chest feels tight; I decide to get a fresh breath of air.
I step out of the car and stare up at the sky. It beckons me to come, but it knows it must wait patiently, as I have for all these years. The darkness is a home to me, and I stand staring towards the effervescence of dancing white flames until dawn rudely intrudes.
If Gaz and Dad have gone, then there is one more person I must see before I leave. I yawn, and then make my way back into the car. Ever since I came back to this city I have been more tired than usual; gotten more sleep than I ever had in a week. But I remember the chilling words that had escaped my dreams and haunted my reality earlier. I grab a pair of headphones, turn my CD- the only one I own- on repeat, and shut my eyes, letting the calm words shield me from the voices that haunt me.
It is morning. I am awake- and it is a relief. In the light, I have nothing to fear. I kept myself awake all night, listening, waiting for the voices to return. They never did.
It quickly occurs to me that I am not alone. A young man stands outside of the car, gazing at me curiously, with this large smile that turns his entire complexion into a mold of wrinkles.
"You okay, son?" his prying face shoves through the open window of the car and gazes at me with sympathy.
"Yes..." I grumble, and sit up, disliking the idea of being called 'son'. I am nobody's son.
"You look like you need some help. Can I get you anything?" He finally backs away from the car window, which was to probably a good move on his part considering I had the distinct advantage with his head so vulnerably close to me like that. At first I don't answer, hoping he'll get bored and go away, possibly, but the man is persistent. He opens the car door.
"I do not need help," I manage to say, but I am curious so I scoot over to the open car door and get out. "And you cannot help me with anything that I cannot help myself with."
His eyes are so... warm. The kind you see in the magazines; the smiling, inviting people who the photographers want you to think are friendly. It's so utterly fake. I watch the man's hands closely, realizing that his congenial smile temporarily had caught me off guard.
It occurs to me that he has asked me yet another inept question while I'd concentrated on watching his physical moves rather than listening to them. I glance up at him. "What?"
He doesn't repeat himself. Simply pats my head and shoves a twenty into my hand. "Don't go putting that into an liquor, kid. Get yourself some food. And maybe job. People like you don't belong in the streets."
My cheeks flush red and I stand, angrily. He thinks I'm some homeless bum, some alcohol addict, too dumb for college and too lazy for a job? How /dare/ he?! I crumple the twenty in my hands and consider stuffing it into that uprighteous face of his, but I realize that he's already turned and left.
My hand slowly releases its hot metal-white grip. I stare at his back as he walks off to wherever he came from, confused. But I don't worry about it too much. I shrug, figure he was in a good mood- or really wanted to waste twenty bucks- and head off toward the Seven-One-One to eat something.
*
Something isn't right. The place I'm in is too quiet. People are too... curious. The minute I stepped in to the Seven-One-One everyone stopped to stare. I'm used to this kind of attention, enduring stares at my different attire that people are too self-absorbed to accept. But I'm not used to this amount of attention- usually it is one or two fools who cannot continue with their daily lives without staring me down- not the entire store.
I shrug it off and walk over to grab a bottle of water. The eyes of the customers watch closely every move I make, like a paranoid mall cop watches every security camera screen. I ignore them; they can swim in their own tainted impurity. And there are too many anyway to dispose of them all in one graceful, sweeping motion.
That's too bad.
I throw the twenty down at the cash register and wait for the man sitting behind it to ring me up. He smells like wisps of smoke locked in beads of sweat, and I'm sure if he weren't used to his own smell by now he would quickly get used to the meaning of the word "shower". He does not look at me, only hands me back my change; I cautiously grab the money from him so that he does not touch me.
On my wait out, the small fan group that had gathered to stare at me when I first walked in begins to whisper:
"See that boy? I think that's the Membrane kid."
"No kiddin'? Impossible. He's been missing for years."
"He looks like he's not quite "here" now."
I smirk and am about to make my way out of the store, when another voice joins in.
"You know that sister of his? I heard she's back from that school over on the coast- Bezerkley or somethin. They're probably gonna meet."
"You know her?"
"Kinda. You can't really /know/ a kid like Gaz Membrane."
My pause at the door causes them to pause in their speech. But I have heard all that I need to hear for now. I leave them to their whispers and shut the door.
I sit on the curb in front of Seven-One-One, drinking my water and watching cars blur past- all over the speed limit- as their drivers rush to get to work for another efficient day of signing papers and feeding paper shredders. The water tastes like nothing. That is why I like it. It's nothing, just a liquid that you feel slide the back of your throat, just something that makes your body feel satisfied. People do not know they really need- or deserve- water until they beg for it. Until it kills them not to have it- and even then, the water kills them by keeping them alive.
The jingle of the customer bell in the Seven-One-One draws my attention away from the water. Out of the corner of my eye I see someone rushing off to the side. It was the same woman in the store that had spoken earlier about Gaz. She has her friend with her, but my eyes darken the entire world around everything except the one I want.
I stand and quickly follow her. Here, my job is more difficult. The light shows everything that I do not want to be shown; it reveals everything brazenly as though it were not ashamed of the impurities that it uncovers. I smile and wait until that one moment, that one, perfect moment when the sun cowers behind the clouds and the world within the one-way street that I'm on has gone completely silent.
I disturb it all with one hand movement into her back.
*
Back.
Back here.
Back at this entity.
Back at this place that I have avoided for so long.
Back at this hell which I cannot help but love and hate.
Back at this reminder that I am a bump on the smooth hands of life.
Back, knowing that to turn away would be poor courtesy.
Back to connect the dots; complete the picture.
Back to the point of innocence.
Back in my first ignorance.
Back?
Back is not this.
Back feels like home.
Back feels like knowing all is right.
Back is losing that alarm inside of you; finding peace.
Back feels like you're collapsing back into the arms of familiarity.
Back feels like returning from a long period of being lost.
Back is reaching the end of a circle, and starting again.
Back is finding a way to start anew the same cycle.
Back cannot be when you've found a new way.
Back is not starting a new cycle.
Back doesn't feel like this.
Back is not this.
Back can't be this, because this before me is what fuels my anger.
... And I will pay her back dearly.
_-=*=-_
"Can you tell me again?"
Zim sighed and shut the book he was reading on the human theory of relativity. He was lying sideways on the couch with his legs draped over the arm; Gaz's request forced him up from his place of placidity. He glanced at her: she was cross-legged on the floor, glaring suspiciously around her as G.I.R. played a one-sided game of hide-n-seek with her. She stopped and took another glance at Zim. "Please?"
"I told you it already."
She continued, persistently, jokingly, "Yeah, but that was a year ago. My poor human brain can't handle so much information in a given time."
Zim wasn't listening to her. He glanced upwards thoughtfully as something caught his eye, "And I told you the year before that too. And the year before that. And even-"
"The year before that," she interrupted. "Yes, yes, I know, but I just like the story. It's very..."
"CUTE!" G.I.R. screamed as he leapt down from one of the circuit wires on the ceiling. He saw Gaz and dashed off into the closet where the now-deactivated robot parents' remains were.
Gaz twitched and thumbed a finger through her hair. "That... wasn't exactly the word I was looking for but it works."
Zim cocked an eyebrow. "You think the story is cute?" That word was almost nonexistent in her dictionary.
She grinned, knowing that it annoyed him. "/Very/ cute."
"If you promise to never, ever use that word again, then I suppose I can comply with your request."
"Fine," she pouted, though she still had that mischievous glint in her eye, "But only because the story is so... /adorable/."
Zim shuddered and stood up. He liked pacing when he got into elongated stories or explanations; it helped him concentrate, and sitting down was too still and formal for his taste. "Well... it wasn't actually an overnight thing. It took me enough courage to even admit it to myself. And even then I didn't believe it..."
*
"...It has been bugging me lately..." Zim sneered to the screen. Displayed was Almighty Tallest Purple, who was indiscreetly glancing over his shoulder.
"Listen, Zim, I know it's been awhile since you've seen that human. But isn't time for that little obsession of yours to be over and done with?" Purple laughed haughtily. "I mean, he's just a human."
"Yes! And oh how he bugged me..." Zim's red eyes glowered like two alarm lights sharply contrasted against the darkness. "He still does. His absence bothers me even /more/."
"And what would the point of his presence be?" Purple persisted. "Why does it even matter?"
"You're supposed to be helping me," Zim sneered.
"I /am/ helping you!" Purple's voice rose, but he cringed and spoke more softly, "Zim, you have to stop this. You can't be disillusioned by Dib's leaving-"
"It wasn't just that!" Zim didn't care if his voice rose or not- he didn't much care for anything at that point. "I haven't given up the fight. I still have a motive, I still have a purpose in my life!" He paused and whispered, mostly to himself, "I cannot believe he did that to me."
"Are we still talking about Dib?"
Zim sighed. "No. No, we aren't. We're talking about that deceiving, inept basta-"
"Zim..." Purple growled a warning.
Zim stopped. He lowered his head, ashamed that he had spoken so rudely to his superior; ashamed that he had insulted him as well. "I apologize, my Tallest."
"You know that decision was made mutually," Purple spoke slowly. His voice was calm because he knew how to handle his anger and his own guilt.
"But at least you did not pretend that I never existed. That hurts more than banishing me to Earth."
Purple sighed sympathetically. "You know Red. He's just... different. He likes to make a decision and forget he ever made it. That helps him do what's best for his people." It was difficult for Purple to defend two people on the opposite sides at the same time. Unlike Red, he could not simply forget that Zim had never existed, even when they did finally manage to permanently keep him away from Irk. Zim and he had grown up in the Invader's Academy together; even if Zim was a pompous, reckless, poor excuse for an Invader, he was still... Zim.
That, and there was the discreet, almost unconscious knowledge that if they had fully betrayed Zim, he would most certainly be persistent in betraying them back. It would be unwise to leave him on a planet full of resources, access to Irken technology, and the firm belief that he had been left behind to die. Zim's persistence, and even more dangerous, his stupidity, might cause him to come back with an enmity that could cause great damage. And neither Purple, nor Red, wanted that.
Purple glanced behind his shoulder once again to check if any guard might be happening to pass by. Outside of himself, only Red knew he still communicated with Zim. If their loyal subjects knew, they would probably be critical of the situation- and may even guess the Tallests' fear of the little un-invader.
Zim tapped the computer console contemplatively. "Yes, well, I need to leave. I'm going to give the planet another DNA sweep-"
"Zim, that's the third time this month. The humans will be suspicious if you cause too many rolling blackouts from interference by that technology."
"But it is imperative that I find Dib! I have to make him believe that I am still a threat to Earth. I have to put things back together again."
"Zim," Purple said calmly, his voice lowering to a soothing tone. "That simply isn't... possible. Even if you rebuild a fallen tower, it can never be quite the same again."
Zim lowered his eyes. "Then what do you expect me to do?" he asked through clenched, jagged teeth.
Purple paused, and then smiled that placid, mysterious smile of his. "You've got to rebuild it better than it was before."
Three years.
Three years passed and Purple's words still echoed through Zim's mind. Three years and the Membrane boy still hadn't been found. Even though Zim hadn't given up searching, he'd given up hoping. The use of the continuous methods of tracking the human were only ways of keeping himself occupied; of keeping the reality of never seeing his personal obsession again a surreality.
He was right now positioned underneath his laboratory. He never really left the city at all- he never even left his house. But he wanted to give the impression that he had gone as well. And so he locked himself up inside the dark, the metal, the cold- it matched his emotions, and within that, he felt its comforts.
Over the years he planned foolish ways of destroying the Earth that he knew he would never execute. He half-heartedly tracked the Dib-human. He watched the news to see how the world was evolving without his careful eye to make sure it didn't evolve too much.
That wasn't difficult.
As a joke he summed up the news over the past three years on a little chart he had made. Every day he stared at it, hoping that there would be some change, some difference:
2014. The terrorist war ended. Death, nevertheless. Crime. Scandals. More death.
2015. Basic shuttle space travel. Death. Crime. Scandals. More death.
2016. Atomic weaponry scare. Death. Crime. Scandals. A chart warning society that the death rate increase would soon tower over the life rate.
It was almost funny. Humans focused on the 'now' and ignored the 'to be', continuously making their mistakes until 'to be' became 'now' and they had to focus on the crisis at hand. The crisis would be overcome. They would return to their daily lives. And then they would focus on the 'now' again, quickly forgetting that the 'to be' was just as imperative, if not more so.
Human flaws were all that the media displayed on television. This didn't make sense to Zim. Why not reveal humanity's successes? Why revel in how many times humanity has failed; how individual units of society have blackened the Earth rather than wallowing in the pride of when individuals break from that monotonous wrongdoing and change Earth for the better?
For the longest time, Zim was fooled into believing that there *were* no humans working for the good of society.
Not that he cared.
Boredom was the ulterior motive for even tracking the humans in the first place. Boredom was the "ultimate" reason behind his "ultimate" plans. Boredom was there when he woke up each morning, was there when he injected his daily nutrient diet, was watching when he sauntered off through his lab, was everywhere like a final, cruel joke- a reminder to him that Dib had finally, unknowingly, unpurposely won.
"What do you think?" Zim was saying to the blank-faced robot before him. "Am I a "Gir dogsuit" green or more of a "ginger" shade?" He paused, waiting for the voiceless answer, and sighed. "Yeah..." he pulled his arm away from the only light in the lab. "I'm a "Gir dogsuit" green if anything else."
He patted the robot's head, remembering and despising how much joy it brought into his life. The robot slumped over, its blank eyes staring towards the ground, a smiling frown giving the entire face a lonely sort of complexion.
At that moment, Zim's internal clock- adjusted for Earth time configurations- indicated that it was six o'clock. Televisions and projection display screens throughout the lab activated and illuminated the darkness with a calm blue glow. A voice followed, ringing through the empty spaces of the bare room:
"Good evening America, this is Channel Six reporter Van Nygen, reporting live from TCB studios," the Asian reporter greeted, smiling. "Today on Channel Six news at Six: Star Wars, Episode Nine- is the world's most successful sci-fi story finally coming to an end? Carbon Monoxide, and why it may cause a problem for your fish. Also, an exclusive interview with Professor Membrane, live from Russia. What does the world's greatest scientist have in store next for humanity?"
Membrane. He'd been hearing that name far too often, now. Membrane did this. Membrane did that. Membrane invented this. Membrane found a cure to that.
It was too much of the wrong Membrane.
"So, Gir, what's the consensus? Should I stay or see what Timothy McDorough is talking about on Channel 10?" Zim asked the inanimate metal. He sighed and the t.v. controller dropped to his side. "Yeah... I never liked that Tim human anyway."
The interview of Professor Membrane was the first news report, mostly on the count of that, considering it was live, Membrane didn't have much time to wait for the other reports to finish. It was an overall dull report to Zim- there was some continuous food reproduction device he was working on- and he almost fell asleep just listening to it.
"Well," Membrane said with the same tone of voice as one might use when preparing to say 'goodbye' to someone, "It's time for me to go. The Food Reproduction Device still replicates carbohydrates, and I need it replicating proteins by 10 a.m. tomorrow."
"One more question, Membrane," the reporter persisted, shoving the microphone so far into his face that he had little choice as to which direction he could move freely, "Why is it that you continuously create these objects of mass construction? Aren't you tired of caring so much about humanity?"
Membrane rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That's a good question. I suppose I never tired of humanity- probably because you people amuse me so. Now, I really must go."
Zim shut the television off, not interested in hearing about suffocating house pets or the final end to the sci fi that wouldn't die. He cocked his head and slowly glanced around the room of his lab.
"That *is* a good question..." he murmured to no one in particular but himself. 'Well, Dib? Why *did* you care so much about humanity...?"
And suddenly, boredom transformed into obsession once again.
_-=*=-_
A/N: Well, if you're reading this that means you made it through Part II! Yay! Once again I'd like to thank my wonderful betas, Crimson Obsession and Opalescent Tear, for smiting those evil typos and grammar errors with their smiting... sword... thingies.
And thank YOU all for reviewing!
Nondescript, you're so very sweet :) But alas, there are people out there who are better than me. If you're ever looking for some good ficcage, check out anything from my two betas or Zara the Pirate's fic, "Final Solution".
Zara the Pirate (and Scat and Chey! ^_^ wh00!) I'm so glad to rope you in! ::rubs hands mischievously:: Welcome to my legion...
HopelessParanoidRomantic (which I am both, by the way) I will definitely write more! I think I have one, maybe two more parts to go. Not sure yet!
Calico, thanks ^_^ I lurves da emotion. I lurves it good.
Banana Co.- LOL! You're so very convincing! ::gasp:: You were a flamer in your past life, weren't you?
Miss Eliz, once again, I thank you for defending me ^_^ Hehe. You must forgive my friend, she can be a little... eccentric. And she needs to learn to spell regardless if she was faking the flame or not ;) But I hope you enjoyed it, and I completely agree- "Conquer Me" is a great fic.
Topaz! Yo?! Wazzup mah homie-g? Fancy meetin' you here ^.~ That ZADR snippet WAS going to be a part of this fic but that's exactly the way this fic *didn't* go. So no, no romancey stuff. But I promise you that snippet will surface again somewhere... another place... in another fic... o_O
::glomp hugs Crimson Obsession back:: (if someone gave me a nickel for every time we did this, I'd be rich! Filthy rich! Then I could have my OWN Fanfiction.net! Mwahahah!) Anyway, I always love your reviews- they always brighten my day.
Idgiebay- hehe... you're so cute when you're angry. Thank you so much for your review! I admire you more :P If anyone wants to see some awesome, stunning art, Idgiebay's your gal.
Until Part III!
For Tif and Meg
Part Two- A Smile in the Light
/When I have nothing left to feel.
When I have nothing left to say
I'll just let this slip away.
I feel these engines power down.
I feel this heart begin to bleed
As I turn this burning page.
I have words I need to say. / -VNV Nation, "Forsaken"
/Don't give them a chance to beg,/ he whispers into my ear. /Don't give them a chance to breathe a word of their pain into your ear. Sympathy will kill you./
Sympathy will destroy my objective.
/Yes. And the objective?/
To rid the human race of its misery. To destroy all that is dark- all that is undeserving of an existence.
/You're saving them from themselves./
I'm saving them from themselves. They have no reason to live anymore. I'm liberating them from the chains they create from their own waste, their hatred, their hypocrisy, their own impurity.
/Your hatred-/
Comes from experience.
/Your focus-/
From years of pain.
/Your source-/
.../they/ did this to me.
He pauses for a moment, and then smiles. His arm, draped with a black cloak, sweeps over me. I close my eyes. They made me this way. It is time that they suffer for it.
"SHIT!" I heave my sweaty chest upwards, and breathe deeply. I shouldn't let myself fall asleep like that. A dream of a nightmare- an experience I would never enjoy the pleasure of forgetting.
I did not know who the hell was in that dream with me. Whoever he was, he'd been haunting me ever since that night...
That night I'd rather not think about.
I throw off my cloak- used briefly as a blanket- and sit up. I am in the car again; after running away from the house I realize that I need one more night to contemplate. To plan. Matters are drastically changed. I have to compensate, and-
"Do you think that they can survive?"
I jerk my head around. "Who said that?!" My ear tingles, as if moist lips had briefly breathed into it. My heart slows down and my breathing returns to normal. This is what I get for letting my fatigue get the best of me.
Outside, an alley cat makes noise that shatters the silence so roughly one might think it would bring seven years bad luck. All is quiet after a moment; the ephemeral noise leaves behind an unsettling silence, as though the world were listening to my every move, every thought in my mind.
"Silence will drive you-"
I jerk back awake as my heart races again. The voice- not my own- was this time accompanied by a fleeting feeling of rough hands against my shoulders. The voice- a whisper- is of the only nightmares that I cannot kill.
"Please... please, go away... I don't have what you want..." I whisper under my breath. He and I both know it is a lie, but I bite my lip and hope the voice will leave. I am half inclined to rip out my ears and claw at my brain, but I only clench my fists and concentrate on other things. After awhile I decide it is safe to relax. My chest feels tight; I decide to get a fresh breath of air.
I step out of the car and stare up at the sky. It beckons me to come, but it knows it must wait patiently, as I have for all these years. The darkness is a home to me, and I stand staring towards the effervescence of dancing white flames until dawn rudely intrudes.
If Gaz and Dad have gone, then there is one more person I must see before I leave. I yawn, and then make my way back into the car. Ever since I came back to this city I have been more tired than usual; gotten more sleep than I ever had in a week. But I remember the chilling words that had escaped my dreams and haunted my reality earlier. I grab a pair of headphones, turn my CD- the only one I own- on repeat, and shut my eyes, letting the calm words shield me from the voices that haunt me.
It is morning. I am awake- and it is a relief. In the light, I have nothing to fear. I kept myself awake all night, listening, waiting for the voices to return. They never did.
It quickly occurs to me that I am not alone. A young man stands outside of the car, gazing at me curiously, with this large smile that turns his entire complexion into a mold of wrinkles.
"You okay, son?" his prying face shoves through the open window of the car and gazes at me with sympathy.
"Yes..." I grumble, and sit up, disliking the idea of being called 'son'. I am nobody's son.
"You look like you need some help. Can I get you anything?" He finally backs away from the car window, which was to probably a good move on his part considering I had the distinct advantage with his head so vulnerably close to me like that. At first I don't answer, hoping he'll get bored and go away, possibly, but the man is persistent. He opens the car door.
"I do not need help," I manage to say, but I am curious so I scoot over to the open car door and get out. "And you cannot help me with anything that I cannot help myself with."
His eyes are so... warm. The kind you see in the magazines; the smiling, inviting people who the photographers want you to think are friendly. It's so utterly fake. I watch the man's hands closely, realizing that his congenial smile temporarily had caught me off guard.
It occurs to me that he has asked me yet another inept question while I'd concentrated on watching his physical moves rather than listening to them. I glance up at him. "What?"
He doesn't repeat himself. Simply pats my head and shoves a twenty into my hand. "Don't go putting that into an liquor, kid. Get yourself some food. And maybe job. People like you don't belong in the streets."
My cheeks flush red and I stand, angrily. He thinks I'm some homeless bum, some alcohol addict, too dumb for college and too lazy for a job? How /dare/ he?! I crumple the twenty in my hands and consider stuffing it into that uprighteous face of his, but I realize that he's already turned and left.
My hand slowly releases its hot metal-white grip. I stare at his back as he walks off to wherever he came from, confused. But I don't worry about it too much. I shrug, figure he was in a good mood- or really wanted to waste twenty bucks- and head off toward the Seven-One-One to eat something.
*
Something isn't right. The place I'm in is too quiet. People are too... curious. The minute I stepped in to the Seven-One-One everyone stopped to stare. I'm used to this kind of attention, enduring stares at my different attire that people are too self-absorbed to accept. But I'm not used to this amount of attention- usually it is one or two fools who cannot continue with their daily lives without staring me down- not the entire store.
I shrug it off and walk over to grab a bottle of water. The eyes of the customers watch closely every move I make, like a paranoid mall cop watches every security camera screen. I ignore them; they can swim in their own tainted impurity. And there are too many anyway to dispose of them all in one graceful, sweeping motion.
That's too bad.
I throw the twenty down at the cash register and wait for the man sitting behind it to ring me up. He smells like wisps of smoke locked in beads of sweat, and I'm sure if he weren't used to his own smell by now he would quickly get used to the meaning of the word "shower". He does not look at me, only hands me back my change; I cautiously grab the money from him so that he does not touch me.
On my wait out, the small fan group that had gathered to stare at me when I first walked in begins to whisper:
"See that boy? I think that's the Membrane kid."
"No kiddin'? Impossible. He's been missing for years."
"He looks like he's not quite "here" now."
I smirk and am about to make my way out of the store, when another voice joins in.
"You know that sister of his? I heard she's back from that school over on the coast- Bezerkley or somethin. They're probably gonna meet."
"You know her?"
"Kinda. You can't really /know/ a kid like Gaz Membrane."
My pause at the door causes them to pause in their speech. But I have heard all that I need to hear for now. I leave them to their whispers and shut the door.
I sit on the curb in front of Seven-One-One, drinking my water and watching cars blur past- all over the speed limit- as their drivers rush to get to work for another efficient day of signing papers and feeding paper shredders. The water tastes like nothing. That is why I like it. It's nothing, just a liquid that you feel slide the back of your throat, just something that makes your body feel satisfied. People do not know they really need- or deserve- water until they beg for it. Until it kills them not to have it- and even then, the water kills them by keeping them alive.
The jingle of the customer bell in the Seven-One-One draws my attention away from the water. Out of the corner of my eye I see someone rushing off to the side. It was the same woman in the store that had spoken earlier about Gaz. She has her friend with her, but my eyes darken the entire world around everything except the one I want.
I stand and quickly follow her. Here, my job is more difficult. The light shows everything that I do not want to be shown; it reveals everything brazenly as though it were not ashamed of the impurities that it uncovers. I smile and wait until that one moment, that one, perfect moment when the sun cowers behind the clouds and the world within the one-way street that I'm on has gone completely silent.
I disturb it all with one hand movement into her back.
*
Back.
Back here.
Back at this entity.
Back at this place that I have avoided for so long.
Back at this hell which I cannot help but love and hate.
Back at this reminder that I am a bump on the smooth hands of life.
Back, knowing that to turn away would be poor courtesy.
Back to connect the dots; complete the picture.
Back to the point of innocence.
Back in my first ignorance.
Back?
Back is not this.
Back feels like home.
Back feels like knowing all is right.
Back is losing that alarm inside of you; finding peace.
Back feels like you're collapsing back into the arms of familiarity.
Back feels like returning from a long period of being lost.
Back is reaching the end of a circle, and starting again.
Back is finding a way to start anew the same cycle.
Back cannot be when you've found a new way.
Back is not starting a new cycle.
Back doesn't feel like this.
Back is not this.
Back can't be this, because this before me is what fuels my anger.
... And I will pay her back dearly.
_-=*=-_
"Can you tell me again?"
Zim sighed and shut the book he was reading on the human theory of relativity. He was lying sideways on the couch with his legs draped over the arm; Gaz's request forced him up from his place of placidity. He glanced at her: she was cross-legged on the floor, glaring suspiciously around her as G.I.R. played a one-sided game of hide-n-seek with her. She stopped and took another glance at Zim. "Please?"
"I told you it already."
She continued, persistently, jokingly, "Yeah, but that was a year ago. My poor human brain can't handle so much information in a given time."
Zim wasn't listening to her. He glanced upwards thoughtfully as something caught his eye, "And I told you the year before that too. And the year before that. And even-"
"The year before that," she interrupted. "Yes, yes, I know, but I just like the story. It's very..."
"CUTE!" G.I.R. screamed as he leapt down from one of the circuit wires on the ceiling. He saw Gaz and dashed off into the closet where the now-deactivated robot parents' remains were.
Gaz twitched and thumbed a finger through her hair. "That... wasn't exactly the word I was looking for but it works."
Zim cocked an eyebrow. "You think the story is cute?" That word was almost nonexistent in her dictionary.
She grinned, knowing that it annoyed him. "/Very/ cute."
"If you promise to never, ever use that word again, then I suppose I can comply with your request."
"Fine," she pouted, though she still had that mischievous glint in her eye, "But only because the story is so... /adorable/."
Zim shuddered and stood up. He liked pacing when he got into elongated stories or explanations; it helped him concentrate, and sitting down was too still and formal for his taste. "Well... it wasn't actually an overnight thing. It took me enough courage to even admit it to myself. And even then I didn't believe it..."
*
"...It has been bugging me lately..." Zim sneered to the screen. Displayed was Almighty Tallest Purple, who was indiscreetly glancing over his shoulder.
"Listen, Zim, I know it's been awhile since you've seen that human. But isn't time for that little obsession of yours to be over and done with?" Purple laughed haughtily. "I mean, he's just a human."
"Yes! And oh how he bugged me..." Zim's red eyes glowered like two alarm lights sharply contrasted against the darkness. "He still does. His absence bothers me even /more/."
"And what would the point of his presence be?" Purple persisted. "Why does it even matter?"
"You're supposed to be helping me," Zim sneered.
"I /am/ helping you!" Purple's voice rose, but he cringed and spoke more softly, "Zim, you have to stop this. You can't be disillusioned by Dib's leaving-"
"It wasn't just that!" Zim didn't care if his voice rose or not- he didn't much care for anything at that point. "I haven't given up the fight. I still have a motive, I still have a purpose in my life!" He paused and whispered, mostly to himself, "I cannot believe he did that to me."
"Are we still talking about Dib?"
Zim sighed. "No. No, we aren't. We're talking about that deceiving, inept basta-"
"Zim..." Purple growled a warning.
Zim stopped. He lowered his head, ashamed that he had spoken so rudely to his superior; ashamed that he had insulted him as well. "I apologize, my Tallest."
"You know that decision was made mutually," Purple spoke slowly. His voice was calm because he knew how to handle his anger and his own guilt.
"But at least you did not pretend that I never existed. That hurts more than banishing me to Earth."
Purple sighed sympathetically. "You know Red. He's just... different. He likes to make a decision and forget he ever made it. That helps him do what's best for his people." It was difficult for Purple to defend two people on the opposite sides at the same time. Unlike Red, he could not simply forget that Zim had never existed, even when they did finally manage to permanently keep him away from Irk. Zim and he had grown up in the Invader's Academy together; even if Zim was a pompous, reckless, poor excuse for an Invader, he was still... Zim.
That, and there was the discreet, almost unconscious knowledge that if they had fully betrayed Zim, he would most certainly be persistent in betraying them back. It would be unwise to leave him on a planet full of resources, access to Irken technology, and the firm belief that he had been left behind to die. Zim's persistence, and even more dangerous, his stupidity, might cause him to come back with an enmity that could cause great damage. And neither Purple, nor Red, wanted that.
Purple glanced behind his shoulder once again to check if any guard might be happening to pass by. Outside of himself, only Red knew he still communicated with Zim. If their loyal subjects knew, they would probably be critical of the situation- and may even guess the Tallests' fear of the little un-invader.
Zim tapped the computer console contemplatively. "Yes, well, I need to leave. I'm going to give the planet another DNA sweep-"
"Zim, that's the third time this month. The humans will be suspicious if you cause too many rolling blackouts from interference by that technology."
"But it is imperative that I find Dib! I have to make him believe that I am still a threat to Earth. I have to put things back together again."
"Zim," Purple said calmly, his voice lowering to a soothing tone. "That simply isn't... possible. Even if you rebuild a fallen tower, it can never be quite the same again."
Zim lowered his eyes. "Then what do you expect me to do?" he asked through clenched, jagged teeth.
Purple paused, and then smiled that placid, mysterious smile of his. "You've got to rebuild it better than it was before."
Three years.
Three years passed and Purple's words still echoed through Zim's mind. Three years and the Membrane boy still hadn't been found. Even though Zim hadn't given up searching, he'd given up hoping. The use of the continuous methods of tracking the human were only ways of keeping himself occupied; of keeping the reality of never seeing his personal obsession again a surreality.
He was right now positioned underneath his laboratory. He never really left the city at all- he never even left his house. But he wanted to give the impression that he had gone as well. And so he locked himself up inside the dark, the metal, the cold- it matched his emotions, and within that, he felt its comforts.
Over the years he planned foolish ways of destroying the Earth that he knew he would never execute. He half-heartedly tracked the Dib-human. He watched the news to see how the world was evolving without his careful eye to make sure it didn't evolve too much.
That wasn't difficult.
As a joke he summed up the news over the past three years on a little chart he had made. Every day he stared at it, hoping that there would be some change, some difference:
2014. The terrorist war ended. Death, nevertheless. Crime. Scandals. More death.
2015. Basic shuttle space travel. Death. Crime. Scandals. More death.
2016. Atomic weaponry scare. Death. Crime. Scandals. A chart warning society that the death rate increase would soon tower over the life rate.
It was almost funny. Humans focused on the 'now' and ignored the 'to be', continuously making their mistakes until 'to be' became 'now' and they had to focus on the crisis at hand. The crisis would be overcome. They would return to their daily lives. And then they would focus on the 'now' again, quickly forgetting that the 'to be' was just as imperative, if not more so.
Human flaws were all that the media displayed on television. This didn't make sense to Zim. Why not reveal humanity's successes? Why revel in how many times humanity has failed; how individual units of society have blackened the Earth rather than wallowing in the pride of when individuals break from that monotonous wrongdoing and change Earth for the better?
For the longest time, Zim was fooled into believing that there *were* no humans working for the good of society.
Not that he cared.
Boredom was the ulterior motive for even tracking the humans in the first place. Boredom was the "ultimate" reason behind his "ultimate" plans. Boredom was there when he woke up each morning, was there when he injected his daily nutrient diet, was watching when he sauntered off through his lab, was everywhere like a final, cruel joke- a reminder to him that Dib had finally, unknowingly, unpurposely won.
"What do you think?" Zim was saying to the blank-faced robot before him. "Am I a "Gir dogsuit" green or more of a "ginger" shade?" He paused, waiting for the voiceless answer, and sighed. "Yeah..." he pulled his arm away from the only light in the lab. "I'm a "Gir dogsuit" green if anything else."
He patted the robot's head, remembering and despising how much joy it brought into his life. The robot slumped over, its blank eyes staring towards the ground, a smiling frown giving the entire face a lonely sort of complexion.
At that moment, Zim's internal clock- adjusted for Earth time configurations- indicated that it was six o'clock. Televisions and projection display screens throughout the lab activated and illuminated the darkness with a calm blue glow. A voice followed, ringing through the empty spaces of the bare room:
"Good evening America, this is Channel Six reporter Van Nygen, reporting live from TCB studios," the Asian reporter greeted, smiling. "Today on Channel Six news at Six: Star Wars, Episode Nine- is the world's most successful sci-fi story finally coming to an end? Carbon Monoxide, and why it may cause a problem for your fish. Also, an exclusive interview with Professor Membrane, live from Russia. What does the world's greatest scientist have in store next for humanity?"
Membrane. He'd been hearing that name far too often, now. Membrane did this. Membrane did that. Membrane invented this. Membrane found a cure to that.
It was too much of the wrong Membrane.
"So, Gir, what's the consensus? Should I stay or see what Timothy McDorough is talking about on Channel 10?" Zim asked the inanimate metal. He sighed and the t.v. controller dropped to his side. "Yeah... I never liked that Tim human anyway."
The interview of Professor Membrane was the first news report, mostly on the count of that, considering it was live, Membrane didn't have much time to wait for the other reports to finish. It was an overall dull report to Zim- there was some continuous food reproduction device he was working on- and he almost fell asleep just listening to it.
"Well," Membrane said with the same tone of voice as one might use when preparing to say 'goodbye' to someone, "It's time for me to go. The Food Reproduction Device still replicates carbohydrates, and I need it replicating proteins by 10 a.m. tomorrow."
"One more question, Membrane," the reporter persisted, shoving the microphone so far into his face that he had little choice as to which direction he could move freely, "Why is it that you continuously create these objects of mass construction? Aren't you tired of caring so much about humanity?"
Membrane rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That's a good question. I suppose I never tired of humanity- probably because you people amuse me so. Now, I really must go."
Zim shut the television off, not interested in hearing about suffocating house pets or the final end to the sci fi that wouldn't die. He cocked his head and slowly glanced around the room of his lab.
"That *is* a good question..." he murmured to no one in particular but himself. 'Well, Dib? Why *did* you care so much about humanity...?"
And suddenly, boredom transformed into obsession once again.
_-=*=-_
A/N: Well, if you're reading this that means you made it through Part II! Yay! Once again I'd like to thank my wonderful betas, Crimson Obsession and Opalescent Tear, for smiting those evil typos and grammar errors with their smiting... sword... thingies.
And thank YOU all for reviewing!
Nondescript, you're so very sweet :) But alas, there are people out there who are better than me. If you're ever looking for some good ficcage, check out anything from my two betas or Zara the Pirate's fic, "Final Solution".
Zara the Pirate (and Scat and Chey! ^_^ wh00!) I'm so glad to rope you in! ::rubs hands mischievously:: Welcome to my legion...
HopelessParanoidRomantic (which I am both, by the way) I will definitely write more! I think I have one, maybe two more parts to go. Not sure yet!
Calico, thanks ^_^ I lurves da emotion. I lurves it good.
Banana Co.- LOL! You're so very convincing! ::gasp:: You were a flamer in your past life, weren't you?
Miss Eliz, once again, I thank you for defending me ^_^ Hehe. You must forgive my friend, she can be a little... eccentric. And she needs to learn to spell regardless if she was faking the flame or not ;) But I hope you enjoyed it, and I completely agree- "Conquer Me" is a great fic.
Topaz! Yo?! Wazzup mah homie-g? Fancy meetin' you here ^.~ That ZADR snippet WAS going to be a part of this fic but that's exactly the way this fic *didn't* go. So no, no romancey stuff. But I promise you that snippet will surface again somewhere... another place... in another fic... o_O
::glomp hugs Crimson Obsession back:: (if someone gave me a nickel for every time we did this, I'd be rich! Filthy rich! Then I could have my OWN Fanfiction.net! Mwahahah!) Anyway, I always love your reviews- they always brighten my day.
Idgiebay- hehe... you're so cute when you're angry. Thank you so much for your review! I admire you more :P If anyone wants to see some awesome, stunning art, Idgiebay's your gal.
Until Part III!
