I'm sorry this took so long to get out! The Christmas holidays really got away with me. Anyhow, I should be back to uploading weekly again, until the story's end. Not far to go now!
"Uh . . ."
The sound snared my attention in an instant, cannoning my gaze up towards the stirring; moaning, twitching at odd angles atop the couch. When the computer had delivered the news that Zim was going to live, I had been unable to prevent the dam in my eyes from welding away. Hot, salty relief poured down my face, dripping onto the floor we strode upon. Only once I had calmed down did I find myself able to scoop Zim up in my arms and carry him above ground. He was still so light.
"It's all right, Zim. I'm here," I muttered, stroking the back of his injured hand. I did not want to look at the tourniquet again; the memories of discovering his dying body so fresh in my head, the sight of the blood-stained bandage only reinforced the horror I had befallen.
"Mnn . . ." The moaning, the twitching - it all seemed never ending. A cruel taunt waiting to retract itself, leaving the Irken unconscious, or dead - or so I feared. I held my breath inside my throat until, after what appeared to be eternity, the green eyelids flickered open, to reveal those orbs of magenta liquid fire – perfect, bottomless beauty. They were utterly captivating, now more than ever, holding my gaze in total ease.
"D . . . Dib-thing?" He spoke after a while; incredulous, fearful as he sat up, my trench coat falling from his form, exposing his bare jutting ribs.
"Hi, Zim." The only words I was able to release, as more water overflowed from my eyes, yet I was smiling. Relief, delight carving the features in my face as my free wrist moved to wipe the tears away. Below us my hand continued to grip his, for I was never going to let him go again. Not now, not ever.
Not even when his arm jerked backwards, trying in ultimate desperation to pull his hand free of entrapment as he cried out for the help that would not come. "Easy, Zim, you'll make the bleeding start up again!" I yelled out, terror induced deep into my soul at the prospect of his deadly wound beginning the process of rapidly pumping out his indigo life force once more. Shining before my inner eye, the oath I had sworn to myself mere seconds ago; it must have been that thought alone that kept my hand entwined with his.
"Ah! No! No!" Zim's wails ran over and over, like a broken record. Even this emaciated he was much stronger than I, and suddenly succeeded in pulling his hand free. "No . . . D . . . don't t . . . touch me . . . K . . . kiss . . . not Zim's . . . I'm not d . . . defective . . ." He backed himself as far as physically possible into one corner of the couch, hugging his knees to his chest, trying his utmost to keep away from me, as though I – or he - was something monstrous. My coat fell to the floor.
So badly did I want to hold him; to pull his frail little body into my arms and hold him close, protect him from the world around us. But I was painfully aware that if I touched him in his present state the trauma would likely kill him, or at least give an excuse to attempt his life again. I was forced to content myself with kneeling on the floor before him, waiting for the right time in which I could reach for him. "No, Zim. Please calm down. It'll all be okay," I assured him, my voice soaked through with the tears recently fallen. "Please, just let me explain and I'll -"
"LIAR! Don't hurt Zim!" His hands shot a firm covering upon his head, as if to block out the surroundings trying to reach forth to him. He was shaking more profusely than I had ever seen before, interlaced with the broken sobs that left his mouth, his eyes. The pit within my stomach deepened, for I was certain such actions would render him indecently ill, but there naught I could do except to wait, listening to nothing but the sobbing, to GIR banging on the door of the cupboard I had locked him in, until calm finally poured back into the Irken's body. His eyes opened, his hands slowly began to drift down from his head.
"Listen, Zim," I spoke softly, tenderly, so not to upset him again. "Let me explain myself first, and at the end if you're still not interested then I'll go, and never bother you again, okay? Just let me explain." My tone dropped to a softer beat. "Please?"
Zim did not respond. He did not look at me, he did not speak, he did not nod his head. But neither had he given any indication of a negative, so I took this as an invitation to go ahead, despite the risks. I took a deep breath.
"I don't want to hurt you, Zim. Or GIR. I haven't wanted to hurt you in ages - not anymore. What I did to you on Tuesday is . . ." I paused involuntarily. I could not deny the truth any longer, not to myself or Zim. I sighed, and continued on. ". . . is a way that humans express affection to one another, but I'm sure you already knew that. The truth is, I love you, Zim! I love you so much, God help me! And . . . and I know why you pushed me away, when I kissed you."
The statement saw Zim's head snap upwards, his eyes dripping fear, and what appeared to be a brush of anger. He did not warn me to cease talking, thus I tried not to focus on his glare and spoke regardless:
"I remember what you said to me, about mating and relationships and stuff meaning an Irken's defective. You see? I remembered all that! I'm a good listener! It was only natural that you wouldn't react well, I should've known that. But . . . " I braced myself for a possible outburst. "I didn't think it would matter anymore, since you've been banished and all. I was stupid to think that you could just forget the laws and lifestyle you've grown up knowing; I should've guessed you'd react badly, but I never thought it'd be this bad." I gestured to his tourniquet, shivers running amok across my skin as the hateful tears threatened to return. "I know that being defective is considered disgusting to your kind, but surely it doesn't matter anymore. I don't care what you are, Zim. I just know that I love you and I'm so sorry."
My words had run dry; I had nothing left to give. I could only sit back on my knees and wait for Zim's judgment. Oh, how I longed to touch him, to hold his hand against mine. Despite how much it hurt I refrained myself from doing so, watching ever closer as Zim uncurled himself slightly from his fetal position, arms still wrapped around his body. His head started to lean towards me, eyes narrowed into slits, his tone spitting the pain and venom to match the agonised toxins leaking from his eyes.
"The Dib knows . . . nothing."
"No. I do know," I contradicted. "That's why you're so upset now. I'm not stupid, Zim, and I want you trust me again. I want you to understand that I care about you" I paused, each breath I took leashing a restraint upon the chokes caught within my throat. The venomous ticks leeching me dry of all save remorse, leaving me an empty clay man with nothing inside of me, but the bitter guilt yearning for the freedom to die, and allow the warming glow of forgiveness to be born in its stead. "D'you think that I would've come back if I didn't care? D'you think I would've fought so hard to save your life? Call me selfish, but I can't let you go, Zim - I will fight to keep you on this Earth no matter what. Because goddamnit Space-boy, if you go then I'm just gonna follow you, because I have no other reason to keep on living. And if that makes me a disgusting sinner then so be it. Please, say you forgive me."
The oasis of my eyes was flowing once more; the desert watered by the indigo blood of Zim, and his clear and dire want to believe in me, but the terror of betrayal filling him with the distrust that fought hard to keep me back. I could see the confliction of different emotions forming as Zim chewed on his bottom lip, his fingers twisting together, his uneven breathing coming forth in rapid, hyperventilated pants, until he seized his antenna and started to wail. "I don't know! I . . . it's t . . . too soon t . . . to make Z . . . Zim think of it! D . . . don't make m . . . me, D . . . Dib-thing, I d . . . don't know I don't know I don't know I don't k - AIEE!" His uneven speech mutated into a petrified cry when I lost all control of my reasoning, and heaved onto the couch beside him, wrapping my fingers beneath his wrists I tugged gently, so to relieve his obviously pained antenna from the throbbing where his vice-like grip tugged them from the base. Under my grasp Zim thrashed against the bonds; his resistance lasting only a few seconds before ending, his head slowly tipping backwards, wanting to meet my gaze, yet scared, as if the consequences for doing so would be too great to consider.
"You don't have to decide now, Zim," I said in a hushed whisper, unable to prevent my hands from travelling upwards and stroking his antenna, as I had desired to do for so long now. "Just think about it, okay?"
I held myself still, unwilling to move by almost all means, but Zim could not remain in place. He twitched; his whole body alight with his distress, trembling with the effort it took to be afraid, fighting against my soothing fingers on his lekku. "You like that?" I muttered.
I felt him nod stiffly against my chest. "D . . . don't put y . . . your ge . . . germy mouth on them. That is the s . . . same as a hy . . . hy-ooman k . . . kiss."
"I won't. I promise," I assured him, banishing impure thoughts.
"G . . . Good," I heard him mumble, followed by a heart-lifting sigh of, "O . . . okay, Dib-thing. Z . . . Zim will th . . . think . . ." His tone low - tired, almost. The curve that my lips made at his decision died the moment I caught sight of his blood-splattered PAK, and the larger pink spot flashing as his second brain mechanically recited a number of words in fast spoken Irken. Words that meant nothing to me, unsettled me as a result. My trembling fingers fell from his antenna; deep concern misting my senses to the feeling of Zim growing increasingly lax, moaning oddly below me.
"Translation from Irken to Earth English activated: 'Body functions shutting down, preparations to commence the healing of potentially fatal wound ready to proceed,' is roughly what the PAK is stating."
In that moment I knew the computer was present still, I felt my face contort, unrecognisable within the building storm of rage. "Why didn't you stop him from slitting his wrist? Are you fucking blind?" Snarls rippled out through the gnashing of my teeth; my grip did not falter upon the fading Zim.
"Yes, actually. That room he locked himself in is a blind spot, I didn't know what was happening in there, queer-bait," returned the computer in equal churns of fury; I could hear the sneers in its tone, and had it not been for the fact I was conversing with a computer which had no physical presence, I would have smacked it in the mouth. I had to wonder how Zim was able to cope with its attitude. In the time given for me to sigh the computer appeared to do so also; from there onwards its tone softened, all previous aggravation vanishing, to be replaced with a voice that was almost something of gratitude. "You know, had you not shown up when you did then Zim's PAK would not have had the time to begin the healing process before his body shell would have died. You're the reason that he is alive now, pathetic human."
How that insult made me smile; so like Zim, the real Zim, that is. Invader Zim. Where had he gone? I wanted to see him again, now more than ever. I let my arms shift, so that Zim was housed within my embrace as he slept. Over these past weeks I had believed that it was my presence that kept Zim alive, that he needed me. How arrogant and wrong I had been, for now I realised that it was I who needed Zim, and I hoped to God that he knew this, for my life was nothing without him. Whether or not my feelings for Zim insulted the world around us mattered little, for I was going to be there for him, no matter what.