Dib only realized he was falling when his knees hit the floor. He put a hand on the bed to steady himself, staring down at Zim's pointed black boots.

"Why?" he asked hoarsely.

"Your brain is clearly incapable of recalling important information at the moment, but I'll ask anyway," Zim said. "Do you remember when you were my height and briefly dedicated yourself to the hard sciences?"

Dib mustered a nod.

Zim continued. "When I lost you as an adversary, I lost my motivation along with you. When you came back, I swore that I would never allow you stray from me again. That day, in the factory, when I realized you weren't going to make it out alive, I had to intervene. Because what would be the point of succeeding in my mission if you were not there to finally accept your defeat?"

Dib raised his head to glare at Zim directly. "So you saved me, but only because you were afraid of losing your favorite toy? Because I'm your fucking security blanket that you can't do anything without?"

Zim appeared puzzled. "You should be honored that Zim divulged such personal details to you. It's not often that an Irken Elite regards another being with such high esteem."

Dib's vision tunneled with rage as he lunged forward, knocking the alien onto the bathroom tile. Zim was sideways beneath him, kicking and clawing furiously. Dib used his adrenaline and size to his advantage—he was done playing nice. He grabbed Zim's antennae in a fist, yanking his head backward. He kneed the alien in the back, causing his whole body to arch upward, and then used his prosthetic hand to shove Zim's screaming face into the toilet bowl. Horrible, sick gargles echoed from the toilet and seconds later a strange whitish steam began to rise up with them.

Zim's flailing foot connected with Dib's crotch. On instinct, Dib's hands flew down to cover himself. Then a second kick hit him in the chest, sending him onto his back so he was halfway out of the bathroom. He expected further hits, but instead he got the sound of vomiting. He sat up, only half-recovered from the surprise kick, and saw Zim gasping for breath with his back against the bathroom wall opposite the toilet.

"Insolent boy," Zim said, speech slurring. "Sticking the head of Zim into a throne of waste."

"You had it coming, you piece of shit," Dib growled, trying to cover the crack in his voice.

Zim narrowed his eyes at him. "What? I can't hear anything thanks to your barbaric battle strategy."

Dib just groaned, partially annoyed and partially cresting another wave of pain. He wondered if Zim vomited because of what he'd done to his antennae or the fact that his head was shoved into a germ-filled toilet. Either way, he was happy to see the alien suffering—his green face was a mess of blisters, his antennae spasming from time to time, and his uniform was soaked with toilet water and a few stray streaks of vomit. Zim reached up to massage at his antennae, hissing with pain as he worked the kinks out of them.

Zim continued talking, distorted as he sounded. "I can't believe the nerve of you. I tell you that I, Zim, was generous enough to save your life and you brutalize me." He stood up shakily and, to Dib's surprise, removed his gloves. He placed them neatly on the floor and yanked his scarlet uniform over his head, being mindful of his antennae. Then he reached back to his PAK, which begrudgingly opened so he could pull out a block of Irken cleansing chalk. Replacing his gloves, he walked to the edge of the tub and turned on the tap to soak the uniform before rubbing at it vigorously with the chalk.

Dib was taken aback—how could Zim go so quickly from fighting to doing laundry? "Hey! We're not finished with this conversation!" he shouted.

Zim paused his scrubbing to glare over his shoulder at Dib. "Yes, we are."

"No, you're not gonna boss me around like I'm a little kid anymore," Dib said. "You need to fill in the blanks so I can finally understand what the hell's going on with you and what it's all got to do with me."

Zim wrung out his uniform, re-wet it, and started scrubbing again. "I don't understand how you could be stupid enough to not see your connection, but fine, the generous Zim will spell it out for you.

"My PAK automatically records daily activity logs, which then get sent to the Tallest. They saw that my PAK had been used to save a member of an enemy species—you. It was the perfect excuse for them to bump up my Existence Evaluation and finally rid themselves of a defective soldier. You know the rest. And now look at me," he said, turning his back toward Dib.

Dib hadn't noticed before, but up close he could see a black ring of charred flesh around Zim's PAK. He suspected the skin underneath was equally burnt.

"My PAK barely functions as storage unit anymore, and it's too damaged to attempt removing it for repairs," Zim said. "There are things about my early life on Irk I can no longer remember. My senses are dulled and I can never shake my exhaustion, even with manual rest. And it's all because I was weak and stupid enough to save you."

Despite everything, Dib felt a twinge of guilt for the suffering Zim had gone through. The alien was truly a shell of his former self, fearful of what would befall him now that his empire and his very life support system had forsaken him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Zim held up a hand to stop him.

"Even so," he said. "I still mean everything I told you over breakfast. Out of all the beings I've come across in the universe, you're the only one I feel I can trust with my legacy. And…as much as it pains me to say it…I don't regret saving you."

"Well, yeah, you just said I was your sole reason for working toward world domination," Dib said bitterly.

Zim stopped scrubbing and lowered his head. He spoke slowly. "The universe would be a much more miserable place if you were not a part of it."

Dib was so taken aback that he physically jolted away from Zim, causing him to topple out of his crouching position. The bathroom was suddenly suffocating and he awkwardly crawled his way out. He left the room, not caring how bitterly cold it was in the dark Nebraskan expanse, because he just needed to be anywhere but alone in that room with the alien who now felt more alien to him than the day he marched into his fifth-grade classroom.

Dib decided that his car was as good a place as any to decompress. He turned on the engine to get the heat going again. For the first time since he drove away, he truly missed being home. He plucked his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed.