Chapter 25

Found Out

Zim was tired. He had staggered home the night before, his legs trembling with each step, barely making it to his front door. Now he lay on the couch in a stupor that was close to catatonia whilst the computer on the Massive slowly chipped away at his lifeline, not knowing, not caring. His own computer was battling in vain to try and keep the field up, though this would be eventually be impossible. Unchecked, GIR ran wildly around the base, creating havoc that was making the computer's job all the more difficult. Meanwhile, on the Massive, the bar showing the computer's progress at hacking the field was nearing 30 per cent full.

None of this bothered Zim because he was dreaming. Though Irkens could not dream as a rule, the drugs that he had been taking had been inducing hallucinations that Zim had dubbed 'dreams'. Most of the time they were merely memories, but sometimes they showed things that had not happened. These dreams confused him, maybe even scared him. They weren't normal. If Zim had wondered why he was in this state, and he had, he would have been even more scared to know that his previous idea that his body had taken in as much of the drug that it could was correct. His blood was completely saturated with painkillers, and his PAK was working overtime to try and purify it. However, as he continued to take more, it was becoming harder and harder for the life-support to continue, thus he had less energy.

As he dreamed, he saw the Dib-monkey standing in front of him, holding out his hand. He desperately wanted to grab the hand, but he could not reach it. The ghostly Dib suddenly dropped through the air where he stood, and Zim stirred in his sleep, moaning slightly. As the vision of Dib began to fade out of sight, it turned away from Zim. There was something wrong with him, but Zim couldn't work out what it was. He twitched on the couch, and the computer's voice echoed dimly around his head, barely discernible from the silence in the base.

"...Zim! Master! The Massive's mainframe computer is hacking our field! Master!"

"Hmm? Wha..." he mumbled, unable to string the sentence together.

Zim opened his eyes, finding that he had to use an incredible amount of effort just to roll back his eyelids. The computer repeated its message, and Zim lay there, waiting for his jumbled thoughts to start to make sense. The Massive was hacking the field. The field was important somehow, but the exact reason eluded him at the moment. But the Massive hacking it... that was bad. He needed to stop that from happening, but how?

"Make... Make another..." he murmured after an age, unsure of whether he was thinking this or speaking it.

"Well... I could create a smaller field inside the original one, as an extra layer of protection," the computer mused, and set about this task, wondering in its artificially intelligent brain why it was bothering to protect a master who had all but killed himself anyway. Still, not one to disobey orders, it continued the fight. Zim closed his eyes again, wanting nothing else than to fall back into oblivion. Before he did, he muttered one last thing.

"It was a PAK," he breathed, too quietly even for himself to hear.

--

Damian rounded on Dib, grabbing him by the shoulders. Desdemona stood next to him, her eyebrows drawn together, her pert red mouth twisted into a grimace. Downstairs, Gretchen called out again, and Dib made to turn towards the door. Damian pulled him back, pulling Dib's face so close to his that Dib was sure that he was going to kiss him. However, to his relief, he spoke to him instead in a slow voice that emphasised each word.

"Whatever you do, Dib, don't open that door," he said, his grey eyes narrowed.

"Dib! Please! I want to talk to you... about the ball," Gretchen called nervously, and Dib broke away from Damian's grip, striding down the stairs with the twins running after him, practically screeching at him to stop. Desdemona sounded as though she was going to burst into tears. He took no notice, hastening his stride and getting down the stairs in double time with the twin's screams echoing in his ears.

He reached the door and fumbled with the lock, opening it slowly. Gretchen stood there, shivering in the cold and looking nervous. She recoiled at Dib's appearance, staring at the heavy streaks of white in his hair. When he grinned widely at her she looked as though she might die of fright. She gave him a tiny twitch of the lips in return, evidently the best she could manage. When Dib invited her inside, her nose twitched as well, and she grimaced, evidently having smelt something disgusting. Dib led her into the living room, where she sat timidly on the couch, staring at the lamps that were in the shape of the Professor. Dib had always hated those lamps. There was a long silence, in which Dib glanced into the kitchen to see the twins gesturing wildly for him to come.

"Erm... Would you like a coffee?" he asked wildly, and Gretchen jumped in her seat at his voice. She nodded, and he hurried into the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

"What are you doing?" Desdemona asked, her eyes like great silver moons.

"I like Gretchen," Dib replied grudgingly, "She's mad at me and I want to try and..."

But he trailed off at the twin's faces; identical expressions of despair and annoyance. Their thin lips pressed together, brows furrowed, red spots standing out on their alabaster cheeks. Dib started to make coffee in a desperate attempt to gloss over the moment. His hands were trembling so hard that he shook the sugar all over the counter when he tried to dump it into the mugs, and he slopped boiling water all over his other hand when holding the kettle. He cried out, and Gretchen opened the door, looking in worriedly as he stood there, gasping in pain. She hurried over and led him to the sink, running cold water over his hand as he watched her silently, his eyes showing his gratitude.

Gretchen continued to make the coffee as Dib sat at the kitchen table. The twins took up two of the other seats, Damian looking worried, Desdemona glaring at Gretchen with obvious hatred. They whispered to him as he sat there, telling him to throw her out before something happened, that it wasn't too late now, so he needed to act now before it was. He ignored them, and eventually Gretchen sat in the free seat, opposite Dib. As the twins, on either side of him, continued their whispering, Dib thought of them as the angel and devil on his shoulders, only this time they both gave the same advice.

"I've thought about the ball," Gretchen said quietly, her foghorn voice almost feminine in her obvious anguish, "I thought maybe you were being mean to me. You were trying to make me look like an idiot, saying you would rather go alone than with me."

"Gretchen..." Dib began, but she continued over the top of him, determined to finish the speech that she had obviously rehearsed beforehand.

"But then I thought that maybe you weren't. Keef said you looked really surprised when everyone started laughing at you. And you haven't been in school for so long that I thought maybe there's something wrong. So I came to see you," she finished, rather lamely, and there was another silence.

"I'm fine," he said firmly, taking heed at last of Damian's frantic instructions, and they sat, staring at each other awkwardly. When Gretchen asked why Gaz hadn't been in school either, he continued in a hurried voice, "She's been ill. She's sleeping at the moment, but Dad's been working, so I've... taken care of her," he finished quietly, and Gretchen nodded understandingly.

They sipped their drinks, not daring to look each other in the eye. At first, Dib started on a long and meandering monologue about school and lessons, about how annoying Zim was and about the latest episode of Mysterious Mysteries, which Gretchen eventually began to contribute to until she no longer looked uncomfortable and uneasy and stopped sniffing the air with a look of mild revulsion on her face. The twins sat there, silent and stone-faced, matching glares on their pale faces. Dib wondered how Gretchen didn't notice the chill that seemed to radiate from them, but said nothing to break the wonderful event that was occurring; an actual conversation with an actual human being.

"D'you mind if I use your bathroom?" Gretchen asked shyly after some time.

"Yes! You do mind!" Damian hissed.

"Tell her to go home!" Desdemona cried, her voice rising to a shout. Gretchen sat there mildly, not noticing the protests of their unseen companions.

"Sure, go ahead," Dib replied, and she scraped back her chair and left the room, despite the feral shrieking of Emma's siblings.

--

Location: The Massive

The Outskirts of Planet Earth

There was an elated mood among the technicians on the Massive, due to the fact that the computer had almost finished hacking into Zim's base. There hadn't been anything remotely exciting since the last planet that they had taken over; the prospect of taking in Zim for questioning about why he had blocked out his leaders was extremely interesting, to say the least. They were popping plenty of popcorn to eat when they watched Zim's downfall. As the large bar of colour filled in the box that it 

had been chipping away at, there was a cheer that filled the room; jets of soda arched through the air only to be cleaned up by service drones, and snacks flew. The head technician, grinning broadly, stood up and cleared his throat.

"Computer! Contact the base of exiled Invader Zim," he said, his voice ringing out clearly through the anticipation of his co-workers.

"Base is protected by a blocking field. Cannot contact Invader Zim," the computer stated once more, and a yell of frustration echoed down all of the corridors of the Massive as the head technician smacked his head against the wall. Zim could play his little games, but in the end all he would achieve was to spark the wrath of the Armada. When they got him, they would make him pay.

--

The kitchen was silent, and had been since Dib had yelled at the twins to shut up, threatening to punch Damian in the face when he had shown signs of wanting to run after Gretchen. The three teens at the table sat as statues, staring up at the ceiling as they strained to hear noises upstairs. The toilet flushed. Water rushed in the sink, and then the door opened. There were footsteps, and then a pause. The footsteps changed direction. Even as Dib consulted his mental map of his home, there was a sharp intake of breath from Damian, and Desdemona uttered a shrill "No!" as they continued in the direction of the spare room. Dib was on his feet before the door creaked open, and he was at the bottom of the stairs by the time that Gretchen's bovine screams first crystallised in the air. She had found out.

AN

Please review and I shall update soon.

Invader Zim is the property of Jhonen Vasquez. I own Emma, Damian and Desdemona Dribben.