When I first started watching Zim, Dib was my least favorite character.

Hmm. Not much has changed. :P Well. Not that he's horrible. His character was much expanded in later episodes. He's good for fics, but still... So Dib-ish.

***

It was a pleasant walk, until the first car sped past him. Dib jumped back. Then jumped back again, as he remembered the painting. Broken glass and metal... a car crash! Dib stayed as far from the street as possible.

The metal gate of the park rose on his left as he turned. It arched up and around a beautiful sign which read Iris Park. Beneath it were paper posters warning of littering fines. Dib pushed the gate open slightly more and stepped in. The park was relatively small, and bordered by small patches of gardens. Purple irises predominated, standing stiffly in the dusty air. Dib caught sight of the swing set in the far corner. He rushed over to it.

There, on the only swing that wasn't broken. Anna sat, swinging half heartedly, staring into the ground. Dib felt an acute awareness of his surroundings, and the sun set. Building lights flickered on, but the park remained dark. Anna disappeared while his eyes adjusted, then faded in like a ghost.

Dib stayed a respectful distance away from the swing.



And then there he was. She had been so afraid he would turn out to be real. He was pale, and wore exactly what she had known he was going to wear. She felt a pang of sorrow slice through her.

she said. She felt, rather than saw, his life force move about and then settle on the ground in front of her. This reminded her very much of the last time she pet Zippy. Poor doggy, she had sat with him for an hour, petting him and telling him he was a good dog. Her mind wandered several memories. The boy wasn't saying anything.

I'm afraid to ask your name, she said finally, because then I'll know you more, and then you're going to die, and then it will hurt more.

It will hurt you more, but I'm going to die, he said emphatically. My name is Dib.

Anna sighed.

Why did you paint that? he whispered.

Because that's what I do, she said. If I didn't paint them, they'd still happen, and I wouldn't have any proof. I wouldn't be able to prevent it.

Can you prevent my...?

Anna kicked at the dirt under her swing. I don't know.

What happens? There's a lot of glass and metal. Dib began to feel sick.

She twisted her face. She touched the bridge of his nose. Your glasses are going to enter your face here. It's going to hurt quite a lot. Her voice was colder than on tv.

He sat back in anger. Well, thanks! Can you think of any way to keep that from happening?

It hurts, and it's pretty fast, and it's not a person.



As you just said, we have to figure out how it happens, so it won't, she said slowly, as if explaining an advanced concept to a four year old. I'm telling you that it hurts a lot-

I'd guessed that.

-and you'll die relatively fast, I mean, there'll be a couple of minutes of agony-



-but it's not a person who does it. Not someone with a knife or a folding chair or something like that. Anna twirled in the seat.

Car crash? Plane crash? Train? Offered Dib.

Not a plane or a train, maybe a car, she said thoughtfully. She pushed her hair out of her face. I worked on that painting for two days.

Why aren't I dead now?

I think it happens after I finish it, she said. I finished last night, around now.

Dib felt cold all over. Remembering how his jacket had been on the ground in the picture, he wrapped it tighter around himself.

I drew another one today.

he burst out. Why would you keep doing this? You're killing people, you know that?

She sat back. I am not killing them, she said. I've told you, that's what I do. If I don't draw it then it keeps happening to me, and I don't like it. I don't like getting killed every three nights or so. I don't know why I have to see all that, it's not fair. Think about it from my point of view. She never lost her icy tone.

Dib understood what she was saying, but he couldn't appreciate it. He couldn't help but feel that these things were her fault. He didn't stop to think about what it would be like to die every three days. He couldn't. All he could see were his own glasses in his face.

So who's next? he asked weakly.

She handed him a pencil drawing.

he screamed. Even in the faded light he could see the figure. A purple haired girl swinging from a noose. All around the edges of the drawing was scrawled the word SISTER. Oh my god! That's Gaz!

Your sister? Anna asked.

He could see it all, now. He was going to die in some horrible, as of yet still unknown accident, and Gaz would blame herself and... and... He had to get home and tell her that he would be okay. Blood rushed to his head and he clenched his fists. Rage, anger, hatred... How could you do this to us?! he screamed.

Anna jumped out of the swing. Dib, don't move-

Dib breathed hard, his vision blurring with emotion. He crushed the drawing in one fist.

No, Dib, I think that if you hold real still you'll be okay. We're almost past the time that I drew it- Anna was walking slowly toward him, her eyes open wide.

Get away from me! his voice cracked, but he didn't care. He turned and ran for the gate. I have to stop Gaz!

Anna groaned. She took off after him, arms outstretched. she screamed. Don't go into the street!

Screw you, you crazy girl! Stay away from me! Dib panted and ran harder. He was almost to the gate, almost to the sidewalk, almost to the road...

They both screamed nonsensically. Anna forced her arm out until she thought it would be wrenched from its socket.

Ha ha! Dib gasped as he ran into the street. You won't- aaa! He felt a hand on his neck. Anna grabbed his collar and tried to pull him back. Furious, Dib twisted his shoulders and jumped. he repeated. Still running at full speed, the jacket ripped off his back.

Anna stopped short, barely feeling the cloth in her hands.

A powerful light shone on him from the left. A huge, horrible noise blasted through the air. Anna's lips trembled. Dib turned to face the truck, mouth open in terror.

The sound of the truck's hydraulic brakes overpowered the small crunch of glass and bone.

A/N Yes, that is the end. Poor Dib.