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I'm looking through you, where did you go
I thought I knew you, what did I know?
You don't look different, but you have changed
I'm looking through you, you're not the same
--Excerpt from "I'm Looking Through You," by the Beatles
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- deviation -

The sound of boots swiftly clicking against concrete echoed off of lofty buildings as two figures dashed through the empty streets. One was at an obvious distance behind the other, but slowly closing the gap between himself and the boy ahead, his brown eyes full of determination and vivacity. The crisp wind snaked through his hair and brutally exhaled its frigid breath against his face, slightly numbing him, and yet he remained unfazed. A wide, menacing grin splayed his features; nothing could bring him down from the admitted high he gained during each chase.

Taking a moment to look over his shoulder, the boy ahead shot his pursuer a vicious glare before veering through an open gate that lead to a bizarre green house. Without a moment's hesitation, he stumbled to the front door, gripped the knob, and began jiggling it vigorously. He repeated this motion several times, then muttered obscenities under his breath. "Of all the times he remembers to lock the door . . ." he grumbled. "GIR!!" A gloved fist struck the door repeatedly. "Open the door RIGHT THIS INSTANT!" A dark, mischievous chuckle was heard, and he turned around to meet the gaze of his enemy . . . his evilly grinning enemy, whose black trench coat was billowing softly in the wind, making him appear much more intimidating than he actually was.

"Vulnerable, Zim?" the intruder questioned, his voice full of mockery and amusement.

Behind blue contacts, magenta eyes narrowed as a sneer crossed the features of the disguised alien. "Never."

This prompted a more lively chuckle to ripple through the trespasser, an annoying guttural sound that abruptly halted when he suddenly sprang forward.

Zim barely had a moment to blink before he realized the human intended to rush him.

As luck would have it, the door opened at that exact moment and the two enemies staggered backwards. Light blows were exchanged in a brief struggle for control, until the slightly larger human managed to tackle Zim to the ground, pinning the alien by his shoulders.

He smiled maliciously. "I've got you now."

"In your dreams, Dib-human," Zim spat, seething as he suspiciously watched Dib's pale hand disappear into the folds of his coat, emerging with a red balloon swollen with water.

Although a shudder racked his body, the alien broke into a malevolent grin, glaring at the foolish human who held a water balloon in his hand, the hand that had witlessly released its grip on its captor's arm. "Allow me to wipe that putrid smirk off your face."

Dib's brow furrowed at his adversary's sudden words, his brain quickly processing that Zim had drawn his tightly clenched fist back in an intimidating fashion.

He didn't process it quickly enough.

He had no time to react before the fist bolted forward and . . .

"Hey, sexy, what are you smiling at?"

Dib blinked, immediately disconnected from his thoughts by the sensual feminine voice. He shook his head, slowly becoming aware of where he was and what was going on around him.

Algebra, he thought. Now he remembered . . . he'd arrived at school somewhat early. He had decided to pass the extra time reading a magazine, and since his first period was usually open, why freeze outside? It appeared a few students were beginning to shuffle into the room now, although class had still not begun.

"Ahem."

Oh yeah . . .

He turned his gaze to the normally unoccupied desk beside him, his amber eyes met by the green eyes belonging to a young, blond girl wearing a pretend pouty face. "You never smile at me like that . . ." she teased, then broke into a twisted smile as she leaned over to take a look at the open magazine spread on his desk. Sighing, she rolled her eyes and pulled back. "Are you reading that tabloid shit again?"

Dib nodded slowly. He felt sort of . . . detached today, more so than usual. Glancing down at the magazine, a small snicker resounded in his head, finding it sickeningly funny that his thoughts always seemed to drift back to Zim no matter what he was reading about, even after all this time.

All this time, his mind repeated. Gone for two and a half years without a trace. Of course, he didn't dwell on it too much anymore—he wouldn't allow himself to show that kind of weakness—but every time he read about, watched, or personally witnessed any phenomena, he couldn't help but remind himself of the evidence that slipped through his grasp. Not that it mattered much, though. The paranormal just didn't hold his attention like it used to . . .

Nothing really did.

A sudden yelp escaped him when he was jabbed in the ribs. He cast a glare to the girl sitting beside him, who stared back just as heatedly, her innocent mask replaced annoyed anger.

"What the hell is wrong with you today?"

"Sorry . . ." he mumbled.

"Jeez! Do you have last night's homework or what?"

Without hesitation, he pulled a paper from his folder and held it out to her.

"Christ . . ." she muttered, aggressively snatching the homework away as she took out a pencil and proceeded to copy the answers to her own paper.

Dib watched her with somewhat bitter fascination, this preppy young girl who could be so disgustingly sweet one minute and treat him like trash the next; this girl who was so pretty and sassy, and popular among other students; this girl who belittled him about everything he did, every chance she got. It was no wonder he found it terribly odd to regard this as his girlfriend. They barely acknowledged each other at school, and when they did, it was usually her reminding him what a geek he was.

Yeah, a geek with your answers, Cil, he thought with distaste.

Dib knew very well that he was being used. Cil could always be found flirting with another guy, especially when she knew that he was watching her do so. Although jealousy did occasionally tug at his gut, he never permitted himself to say anything. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he didn't really care about her as much as he allowed himself to believe. He wasn't even sure if he liked her very much . . . Her attention seemed to fill up a bit of the void that had been present for the past two and a half years, but that was as far as his feelings went for her.

He sighed and continued observing her as she jotted down his homework answers, all while mentally going over their daily routine. She would copy his algebra homework and then possibly meet up at lunch so she could copy his social studies homework. Then they'd meet again at his house to see his English homework, and finally, she would thank him with kisses and teases until she made up some excuse to get out before she was expected to do anything more. There was nothing wrong with it, was there . . ? They were just helping each other out . . .

Then why did he feel so disgusted with himself?

As the bell rang, he felt the paper shoved back in his face while Cil got up and retreated to her normal seat in the back of the room, leaving the desk beside him as empty as it was every day. "Lunch for social studies," she said in passing.

He grunted in response, leaning over to retrieve his math book from his backpack. After the door of the classroom opened, a click click click could be heard. That was strange, Dib thought, because Mr. Barrios always wore tennis shoes and . . . and . . .

A loud THUD reverberated through the class as Dib's math book hit the floor.

" I have wonderful news, class!" Mr. Barrios announced, flailing his arms in excitement as he was prone to do whenever he had 'good news.' "A new student will be joining us on our thrilling journey through the world of numbers! Let's all give a hearty welcome to . . ." He gestured to a rather short, green-skinned boy standing next to him. "ZIM!"

The boy folded his arms and kept his blue eyes downcast, scowling at the floor while an utterly unenthusiastic round of hey's and hi's filtered the room.

Satisfied with this, Mr. Barrios motioned Zim over to an empty desk in the front row before beginning his morning lecture. "Let's review our fractions . . ."

As the teacher went on endlessly, Dib could only watch wide-eyed as Zim came near, his heart beating faster with each step the alien took. When Zim took his seat at the desk beside him, Dib still stared, mouth agape, half of him expecting the disguised alien to make some irate comment, the other half hoping that's exactly what would happen.

However, Zim didn't even regard the human's existence, but merely pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil and hastily began writing things down, the scowl never leaving his features.

Dib nervously drummed his fingers on the desk, his eyes glued to the alien, badly craving some type of acknowledgement as he bit back the urge to provoke Zim into a response. What is this, he thought. We used to practically devote all our time to outsmarting each other, then he disappears, leaving me the fool, and he has nothing to say? Nothing to gloat about?

Just as these questions plagued his mind, he desperately wished to find the answers, to challenge Zim in explaining his long absence and expel all the pent up words of anger and hate that he'd never gotten the chance to use. It would have to wait, though . . . he wouldn't make the first move; he wouldn't be the weak one and admit to being . . . to being what? he wondered. Too eager? Too ambitious? Too restless? Quite honestly, he wasn't even sure.

As the minutes slowly dragged by, Dib only grew more anxious, keeping a constant, suspicious eye on Zim while the alien continued writing incessantly. That's how the rest of the class session went, and when the bell signaling the period's end rang, Zim simply stood, gathered his things, and walked out the door.

The remainder of the morning went by at an agonizingly slow pace, Dib becoming more impatient by the minute, especially after realizing that Zim wasn't in any of his other classes. When lunch finally rolled around, he scouted the outdoor eating area for any signs of the alien, but his search was cut short when a hand gripped the back of his trench coat and roughly whirled him around. His eyes were greeted by a very irritated Cil.

"Social studies, remember?" She glared at him expectantly, becoming increasingly annoyed as his gaze wandered over her shoulder. "Uh, HELLO? What the hell are we waiting for?"

Much to the increasing aggravation of his alleged girlfriend, Dib appeared to be paying no attention. "Have you seen Zim?"

"Huh?!"

"Zim..ah..you know, the new kid with the green . . ." his sentence trailed off as said green kid was seen stalking into the school's library. Dib had no choice but to follow. His enemy was obviously up to something and he intended to find out what it was, as well as possibly get some of the answers he desired. As soon as he started walking, though, Cil pushed him back.

"Where are you going?"

"I have something important to—"

"Uh, yeah, you have something important to do," she barked at him. "Something called social studies."

Determination marked Dib's features as he shook his head, pushing past the blond obstacle that stood between himself and the library. "I'm sorry, I have to talk to someone . . ."

"Oh, you have to talk to someone, well pardon me," she growled, watching his back as he made his way to the library. "See if I come to your house tonight!" She tossed her hair back and turned on her heel, muttering, "Asshole," as an afterthought.

When Dib entered the library, the silence was almost deafening in comparison to the boisterous clamor outside. For the most part, the room was empty, harboring only five quiet students, presumably studying diligently over something or another. Dib almost smiled as he noticed one of the five students was Zim.

His enemy was sitting in the corner farthest from the door, hunched over an open book, hastily scribbling notes on that little pad of his again. Dib approached with caution, anticipating some kind of reaction. Upon receiving none—much to his frustration—he sped up the pace until he was standing right in front of Zim with only the library table between them.

Still, the alien gave no response to the human's presence.

"Zim?"

Still nothing.

Sighing, he sat down in an empty chair and watched curiously as Zim glanced between the open book and his notes, writing something down every few seconds.

Dib couldn't take it anymore. "Gods, Zim, aren't you going to say anything?!"

Slowly, Zim raised his fake blue eyes, his brow furrowing into a heated glare.

Something about that look unnerved Dib, but he tried everything in his power not to show it.

"Go. Away." the alien growled through gritted teeth, then returned to his previous task.

Dib, to say the very least, was taken aback. Not by the statement itself, but by the mere tone with which it was spoken. There was none of the usual pride or annoyance, just pure hostility. It was then he realized that, indeed, something was different. Zim still looked the same, save for possibly growing half an inch, but something in his demeanor had changed. Dib's jaw tightened . . . what was he supposed to say?

"Is, um . . . is everything all right?" He couldn't believe how lame he sounded.

Eyes still glancing between book and paper, Zim simply snapped, "Leave me alone."

After a moment of contemplating the situation and giving up hope that something more might come out of this, the human pushed himself out of the chair and glowered down at the invader, his gaze then falling absently on the open book that Zim seemed so interested in. While he tried to come up with some kind of insult to hurl at his adversary, his eyes unconsciously scanned over the text until he realized what it was that he was reading. "Aflatoxin . . .?"

Quickly, a gloved hand slammed on the book, drawing it away from the human's view.

The enemies' eyes locked onto one another, each giving the other the most spiteful look he could manage. Dib's mind carefully processed what he'd read . . . he knew that aflatoxin was a carcinogenic agent, and a deadly one at that. Zim was definitely up to something . . .

Tearing his eyes away from the alien's, Dib slowly turned around and made his way out of the building, pondering over the actions he should take in finding out the enemy's plans. "I'll infiltrate his base," he decided. "If it's in the same place, that is. Suppose I'll find out tonight . . ." As the words left his mouth, he found himself grinning like an idiot. He suddenly felt a familiar drive pumping through his veins, that same drive he thought had been lost forever. It felt so wonderful to be alive again.

However, as the day passed on, he couldn't help thinking about how drastically Zim had changed, wondering what could have prompted such departure from the normally paranoid, hard-headed alien he thought he knew. As much as his mind wanted to, he also couldn't dismiss the fact that Zim's words and the loathing tone the Irken had used to verbalize them hurt . . . but that wasn't important right now.

Humanity needed saving.

- end chapter 2 -