A/N: These are coming out slow because of college and all that wonderful stuff. I have a whole plan for this story so don't worry about where it's going because I already know. Yes, Gaz's ex-boyfriend Johnny is inspired by everyone's favorite homicidal maniac even though I barely skimmed any of the JtHM issues, just read a few scenes here and there. Oh yeah and the phrase 'Pur Si Mouve' (the complete correct phrase is E Pur Si Mouve) is Italian (I'm assuming this because I think he was Italian) for "And still it moves." Anyone familiar with Galileo would know why he said it. See the opening to the Invader Zim episode of "Lice" and you'll see where I got my ideas from. Oh yeah, just as a general warning, while I wrote the flashback sequence, I almost started crying. Just a warning.

***

Zim stared into the depths of his drink. Right straight through to the bottom, counting the bubbles rising to the top. It pleased him in a strange way, pleased him that those hundreds of little bubbles started at the bottom and made their way to the top. Lifting his gaze, he scanned the terminal, blinking first one eye and then the other. Once muffled noise washed over him, penetrated him more keenly than it did before. There were new pitch variations and rhythms to sounds he realized he never noticed before. Modern Irken medicine was incredible. One trip to a local Irken medic worked wonders. Within the space of an hour his eyesight was completely restored and his hearing was better than ever. It was all thanks to a special kind of procedure where the patient entered a CAT scan like device, which seemed, to outsiders, to electrocute him. Whatever is wrong with him or her is programmed into the machine and it fixed it. Simple as that. At one time the Empire tried to market the thing for personal invader use but unfortunately it required way too much assembly and supervision. Henceforth it created positions for aspiring medical Irkens who desired neither conquest nor hand-to-hand combat.

Still with all that, Zim had acutely astounded the medic with his degraded condition. In all of his life, the medic had said, he had never seen an Irken in such poor health. When asked how he got that way, Zim replied with one little word, "Time."

"I don't like it."

Gir's voice snapped him out of his reminiscence. "Huh?"

The little bot held up his drink with the Empire insignia on the side of the cup. "It's not like Poop Cola. I want Poop Cola. I don't like this stuff."

Ah. Finally. Food Gir didn't like. "I'm sorry, Gir, but there's no Earth food on the Massive. What about all those tacos you brought with you?"

"I ate 'em all."

"Well, sorry to hear that."

"I want my tacos!" Gir demanded sternly. "I want them NOW!"

Oh boy. Zim sighed, punching himself in the head. How was he going to explain this? He got down on one knee and crooked his finger. Gir leaned in attentively, his large blue optics hopeful and wide. "Listen. Are you listening?" Nod. "There aren't any tacos around here. Irk doesn't make the kinds you like. They are only on Earth. Understand? There are no tacos here."

Gir looked completely mortified. "No tacos??!! At all? Anywhere?!"

"No."

The robot burst into tears. "Madness! It's MADNESS!!"

I hate being the bad guy. To avoid drawing attention to them, Zim simply assumed his Irken military pose and turned his back on the screaming droid. Human earth mothers did this when their worm babies threw public fits of hysteria. It usually worked.

Eventually Gir's screams subsided and he sidled up to Zim's side, looking severely rebuked. Zim finished his own drink and tossed it in the nearest trash disposal. "Okay. We're going to pick up some supplies before we head off. Stick close to me and don't wander off."

"Kay!" Gir grinned and hopped from foot to foot. "Master?"

"Hmm?" Zim stepped onto a moving conveyer. His robot joined him a second later.

"Why are all the green people dressed the same?"

One tangent after another. An intelligent being would have gone insane by now. Fortunately Zim had developed a high tolerance. "Irkens, Gir. They're called Irkens. They're dressed like that because that's the way all of them have to dress. Standard Irken uniform issue." The information rolled out easily. I'm saying 'they' instead of 'we', he noticed with some discomfort. I'm part of the 'they', I dress no different than the 'they.' I am the 'they.'

I disgust myself.

"Oooooh." Gir looked around for a few minutes, confused and puzzled by the immensity of the technological wonders surrounding him. "How come no one's smiling?"

Zim shrugged. That one he couldn't answer.

"I miss big head boy. He smiled a lot."

The former invader winced. He wished Gir wouldn't bring up Dib so casually. It amazed Zim the SIR even still remembered him. "Me too. He did." Evil smiles but smiles nonetheless.

That was the last sensible thing they talked about. For the rest of their conveyer belt journey from the Massive to the resident Irken equivalent of a space station, Gir kept pointing at everything. "What's that?! What's that?! What's that?!" fired off one after the other. A few people disturbed by it rewarded them with peculiar looks.

He didn't care. So what. We're all crazy. Without insanity there wouldn't such a thing as an orderly society.

Zim stepped off the conveyer, Gir following shortly after. "That was fun!" Pause. "I wanna do it again!" He made as if to bolt but Zim caught him by the antenna sticking from the top of his metal head.

"No, Gir, focus. Our mission is to get supplies, refuel the Voot and get the hell out of Dodge."

"Why? I like it here!"

"Gir, you like it everywhere."

"Na-uh, I didn't like the Netherlands!" the bot objected. "Too cold!" After a second he added, "But I liked Venice. They had roads made of water!"

"Not me." Zim shuddered gazing around the large merchandise district. It was huge. He felt painfully insignificant. Of course, that was the point of making everything so big. You were supposed to feel insignificant. "I fell out of the boat."

Gir tittered.

"It's NOT funny."

Gir throttled his laughter behind his tiny hands until it became an inner monstrosity. He started squealing and rolling all over the floor. Zim just shook his head in bewilderment. "I think while I'm 'shopping' I'll buy you a muffler. A big one." Distracting himself, Zim rubbed his chin. "Where am I going to find a Voot supply store around here? All they have is food."

"What's wrong with food?" Gir asked having recovered from his laughing fit a few minutes ago. "Food is God."

Food is God?! Zim blinked hard and pretended to clean out an ear. "Food is God?" he repeated.

Gir smiled and nodded.

"Where did you hear that from? You couldn't have possibly made that up yourself."

"I don't know. Wait! Yes! . . . No wait, no." Gir waved his tiny arms around crazily. "Yes! Gaz!"

"Gaz?" Zim scratched his head. "When did you hear her say that?"

Gir snickered. "I ate over one time and she ordered pizza and she said 'Gir, food is God.' So food is God." Pause. "What is God?"

Zim shrugged. He wasn't in the mood for metaphysics. "I haven't been able to figure that out except that the humans tend to blame a lot of problems on it." He turned back to the vast, impossible array of stores before him. I'm tempted to do the same. "Don't they have a map or something around here? Ah! There!" He went over to a wall map that showed a floor plan of the entire space station. Muttering under his breath, he struggled to figure out the complicated labyrinth. "I'm gonna need a native guide, I can see it now."

"I can help you!"

"No, thanks." Zim didn't bother acknowledging whoever had spoken to him. His mind was entirely on figuring out the map.

"No, seriously, I can help you."

"I said, no thank you."

"Oh c'mon! I got nothing else to do."

Get a grip. Zim closed his eyes for a brief moment to counter his boiling point. Opening them again, he turned to speak to whoever was bothering him. "That's pretty sad . . ." Wait, look down. A short squat Irken peered up eagerly at him. Zim suddenly did a double take. "SKOODGE?!"

Skoodge's ultra-friendly demeanor backed off a bit. "Uh, yeah. That's me."

Zim automatically knelt to approximate his former 'childhood friend's height. "Wow. I can't believe I'd run into you ever again."

"Again?" Skoodge didn't recognize him for a few seconds and when he did the suspicion turned into a bright happy smile. "WOW! Zim?! Is that you? Really?"

Yep. It's him. Zim nodded. Never in a million years he thought he'd ever be happy to see Skoodge. He was the only Irken who considered Zim his friend although the latter didn't think so. Zim was profoundly sorry Skoodge picked him to follow after in his weird form of 'hero worship.' In the past, Skoodge had annoyed him (hell, he annoyed everyone at some point). Yet now he wondered whatever he found so exasperating that he treated this unfortunate little guy so cruelly. Friends were friends whoever – or whatever – they were.

Skoodge held himself back just short of throwing his arms around him. "Wow! I thought you were dead!"

"Everyone did."

All self-control got lost. Skoodge gave Zim a rib brushing bear hug and backed off immediately after. "That's just great. I mean, wow, Zim alive. Who ever would have thought?" He grinned and stood back to get the full perspective. "Man, you got tall!" Aware of those implications he shrank back. "You're not gonna make me do anything demeaning are you?"

"No." Zim thought a second. "Maybe you can help me."

Skoodge winced. He was remembering Hobo 13.

"No! It's nothing crazy or painful. I just want to know where I can get parts for a Voot Cruiser."

His friend's stiff antenna relaxed. "Whew. Yeah. I can help you with that." He started away a few and then gestured for Zim to follow. "You know," the invader commented as they marched along, Gir tagging along behind them. "I'm glad you're alive. I never believed you were dead. Not for a minute."

"Thanks."

Skoodge smirked. "You're Zim. You'd never go out unless it was with a really loud sound of something exploding."

"Probably."

"Man," Skoodge emphasized. "You changed! Acting all humble and stuff. That's not the Zim I remember!"

Thank God. Zim managed to keep a straight face. "I'm not the Zim anyone remembers. The Zim that the Empire remembers died a long time ago. I'm all that's left."

"All what that's left?" Skoodge, for all his success, wasn't too bright.

"Never mind."

Skoodge shrugged. It made no difference to him, these confusing concepts. A product of society, personal problems ranked low on the list of his concerns in life. A thought sparked him. "Oh! Remember that time I lived in your basement before you strapped that rocket to me and blasted me into space?"

Ouch. Ancient history. "Yes. What about it?"

"Well, I remember you fought with that creepy little human. What happened with that? Did you win?"

"No."

"You lost?!" The invader was astounded. "YOU lost? Zim? . . . . How is that even possible?!"

"It's possible." Zim looked down at the ground. "I lost."

"How?!"

"He died."

"Oh." Skoodge was confused because to him when an enemy died that meant you won. This new enemy-dying-but-still-a-loser thing didn't make sense to him. He caught the weary warning his former comrade threw him. "Okay."

The white noise of the crowd drowned out the uncharacteristic silence that passed between them. Gir pranced around the two in a disorganized, chaotic circle. He desperately, wildly filled in the awkwardness with hoots and monkey screams of pure joy. Zim caught Skoodge cracking out an amused grin watching the SIR and felt a sense of relief. The little squat guy was a bright if gullible invader who possessed the conquest of Blorch and made it halfway through his second mission before, he told Zim, they canned him and cast him out

"You're not alone, Zim," Skoodge spoke up reaching the threshold of the Voot Cruiser parts outlet. "You're not the first Irken that's been kicked out of service. Of course," he amended, "there's always a way back in." Proudly pointing to the store, he said, "Here we are!" It looked like Radio Shack.

Surprised, Zim blinked hard. "How about that! I never would have been able to figure it out. Not this fast." Genuinely grateful he extended his hand to the fellow invader. "Thank you, Skoodge."

Skoodge stared at the proffered hand and frowned. "You're welcome."

Zim took his hand away. He'd forgotten, Irkens didn't shake hands. To make up for it, Zim added. "It's really great seeing you again."

His friend grinned. "Same here." He thought a second. "You know what, Zim? I think I like you better this way."

You have no idea what it took to make me this way, buddy. Aloud Zim said, "Yeah, a few people might say that." He glanced toward the parts store and then back at Skoodge. "See you around. I guess."

"Looking forward to it." Skoodge shocked the hell out of him by saluting him. "Good day, sir."

Then, like a lot of people in Zim's life, he was gone.

***

Gaz sat on the last bar of the monkey gym reading a book. Whenever a child approached her and demanded she move her arse, Gaz ignored them and redoubled her focus on the page before her. Eventually they would give up and move on to another piece of play equipment.

Once in a while she would look up to make sure she would know when it was time for her class to go back inside. The little kids always went in before the older kids. When she started to go back to the last paragraph, her eye caught a minor commotion all the way across the other side of playground. About to lose interest, she looked again and realized her brother was a part of it. Interested she watched.

A larger kid had stolen Dib's glasses. While the much shorter child made valiant attempts to retrieve them, all the taller kid did was hold them above his head, much to the jeers and delight of those close enough to watch. Her brother's loud pleas came to her all the way from the other side.

"C'mon, give em back," Dib begged. "Please!"

"Nah. Don't feel like it."

Dib stopped hopping and his posture slumped in defeat. "Please?" he begged again more quietly. "I need them."

Gaz closed her book and got down. This was starting to concern her. If that big creep broke Dib's glasses, the poor kid wouldn't be able to get a new pair for a while yet.

The bully simply opened his hand and let them drop to the ground. Dib saw and dove to intercept them, falling flat on his stomach, just catching them by the earpieces. When he put them back on and looked up, the bully and the kids were laughing. A few were even pointing. Dib turned a violent shade of red and got to his feet, clamping down on his bottom lip hard. Gaz watched him put both hands on his ears, trying to block out the cruel noise and backing away at the same time. He made it to the edge of the playground and then ducked behind a tree.

Gaz waited until the crowd dispersed itself before moving quickly across the black top to the other side. She hoped Dib wasn't trying to cut skool . . . much as she wished he'd leave her be, if he was going to cut skool she wanted to go with him.

Drawing close to the tree, Gaz peered around it. Dib was sitting with his back to it, his knees drawn up to his face. Watching him quietly, Gaz noticed his shoulders shook. When he sensed someone there, he lifted his face and moved around a little to look. Tears were running down his face. He hiccuped with sobs and sniffed. Turning away again, he murmured, "Leave me alone."

Ignoring him, Gaz came behind the tree and sat on the ground next to him. Folding her hands in her lap, she sat there and waited.

"Why aren't you laughing?" she heard him ask very softly.

Gaz scooted a little closer to hear him. She shrugged. He looked up again. His face was a mess. Gaz dug in her pocket and pulled out a small pack of tissues. Dib took one and wiped his face with it. "I'm not crazy, Gaz."

She didn't speak.

He made a fist around the tissue. "I hate them!" he hissed viciously. "I-I wish I could . . . I wish they were all dead. It's going to happen one day, Gaz, and I won't be able to stop. I don't want to because I'm better than that but . . . but I hate them! I hate them!" He made a fist and punched himself repeatedly in the head. Each time he hit himself he did it harder and harder.

He's getting hysterical. Gaz crawled over and made him stop. "Don't hurt yourself." He tried to twist free but his sister tightened her grip and for good measure grabbed his other arm too. "Dib," she gritted her teeth. "Stop it."

When he refused to stop, Gaz pushed him against the tree trunk. She looked him right in the eye. His breath was coming fast and short, his complexion was pale and stark. He was terrified. Looking at his arm, Gaz could see why. "You've been cutting yourself again."

Dib jerked his arm away and yanked his sleeve down over it. "That's none of your business," he snarled.

Gaz smacked him lightly across the face. Startled he touched his cheek. Gaz cursed herself silently when tears filled his eyes again. Feeling rotten for what she just did, Gaz put her arms around him and buried her face in his shirt. "Dib, don't do it," she whispered.

"Do what?"

Gaz felt hot tears spring to her eyes. "Don't hurt yourself anymore. Please."

He said nothing. She could hear his heart beating wildly. She drew back and looked up into his surprised face. It took her a few seconds to realize that she had never hugged her brother. Dib suddenly grabbed her up and gave her a fierce hug before jumping to his feet and running away.

Gaz watched him go and felt lost. Lost and scared. She wished she could tell her brother that he meant everything to her. How for every cut he made, he made a deeper one in her. But how could she? How do you tell someone something like that?

Dib come back . . . don't hurt yourself anymore . . . . please come back.

"Gaz? Gaz? Are you all right?" a hand touched her on the shoulder. "Wake up."

Gaz opened her eyes and saw a pink bathrobe clad Lark standing over her, a concerned look on her face. The room was dark but the light in the next room filtered in gently. Glancing over at the clock, the red numbers read 3:45 a.m. Pulling herself to a sitting position, she went at one eye sleepily with the heel of her hand. "What?"

Lark was worried. "I got up for a glass of water and I heard you crying. What's wrong?"

Gaz shook her head.

Lark sat down on the edge of the bed. "C'mon. People don't cry without a reason. Talk to me."

That's the last thing she wanted to do. Gaz only dropped her gaze to her hands. "I had a dream about my brother."

"Oh." Lark respectfully let a moment of silence pass. "You still miss him, don't you?"

Gaz nodded.

"Do you need a hug?"

Yes. "No." Gaz took a deep breath. "God. It's been almost ten years and I can't . . ." she stopped.

"Can't what?"

I have to tell someone. Lark wasn't her first choice but she was at least someone. "I can't stop wanting him back, just one more time to tell him I'm sorry for being so horrible to him. Just one time to tell him that I never hated him. Not really." Gaz pulled her knees up. "He was so mad at me . . ." she whispered.

Lark patted her roommate's knee. "Don't beat yourself up. It doesn't help. What happens happens. There's really nothing you can do about it."

Gaz shook her head. "I know. I had a friend once who told me the same thing. He was right. You're right too. Sometimes I forget that. But it doesn't stop me from remembering." She hugged her legs and rested her chin on her knees.

Nodding, Lark smoothed the bedspread. "Yeah." It spurred her memory. "My father died three years ago. It took me a long time to understand Daddy would never again call me to tell me how he's doing and then asking me how I'm doing. I went downhill. For five months I was addicted to sedatives and holed up in my room for days on end. I was a mess, Gaz. Pathetic."

Gaz raised her eyes to Lark. She couldn't imagine this flame haired beauty queen popping pills and curling up in corners. This living human work of art with manicures and a wardrobe large enough to rival the entire cast of Friends, had for five months out of a year been a complete ball of misery. Can it really be like that? Can a person go from the depths of despair and then come out of it looking like a million dollars?

"How'd you get by it?" Gaz asked grateful all the tears she'd shed during the dream were dry and gone. No itchy red eye reminders, no stinging wetness burning her cheeks.

The other girl gave a half-smile. "It wasn't easy. Time is the key. If you can't turn the clock back, turn it around. Shed light on the dark and just . . . you know . . . walk in it."

Lark shrugged and stood. "Night kiddo."

The light turned off in the other room and all was silent again.

For a few minutes, she sat there, thinking long and hard. Gaz got out of bed and turned her desk lamp on. Grabbing up her laptop, she turned it on and connected to the Net. Locating an address in her address book (all mail she got saved every address to her address book automatically regardless of whether she erased an incoming message).

I hope this works. I don't know if it can reach out that far - if it can reach out there at all.

It never hurts to try though. It never hurts to try.

***

Beep! Beep!

Zim backed out of the cargo hold and subsequently banged his head on the lower wing. "OW!" He rubbed at the hurt. "Gir! What did you touch?"

Gir popped up from the other side of the ship. "Nothing! I didn't touch anything!"

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Zim put down a container of supplies. Briefly abandoning his packing, he climbed into the open cockpit. "Then where's that beeping coming from?" Searching around the interior, he spotted his hand held computer lying on the passenger seat. It was open, turned on and its screen announced in the Irken text: MESSAGE RECEIVED.

"Message?" Zim wondered aloud, a question in his voice. He picked it up and hit a few buttons. "Who could be sending me . . ." He saw the address and his mouth dropped open. "Son of a bitch."

Gir popped his head in upside down. "Watch your language!" he squealed and then dropped with a clunk to the ground.

Zim reacted guiltily. He pretended to cut his tongue off and zip his mouth shut. "Apologies Gir. It's what happens to elegant, intelligent beings when they go to human high skool."

He scanned the message for viruses and then opened it.

Zim -

I don't know if you'll get this because I don't know how far the Internet reaches. Guess I'll find out soon enough. It's been a long time since we've seen each other. Before you left I have to tell you, I'd almost completely put you behind me. When you sent me that e-mail - for me it was six months ago when you sent it - it just made me realize what a mistake I made in kicking you out of my life. Yeah, guess we could see that coming, huh? All life is completely hopeless without Zim.

Zim laughed and settled back in his seat.

As of this, I'm watching the sunrise in my window. My dorm has an excellent view of the east and it's at such an angle that for an hour out of the whole day, my whole room is filled with light. Sometimes it even gets too hot and I have to pull the shades down.

I had a dream last night about my brother. Actually it was a dream of a memory. I'd never had a dream about it before and it was so vivid it was almost like it was real. You weren't there when this happened, I think it happened a month or two before you showed up. It was recess and I was watching this horrible kid steal my brother's glasses. Dib got them back of course but then everyone laughed at him and he was so humiliated he ran off and hid. I followed him and when I found him he was crying. He told me he wanted to kill everyone, not in those words exactly, but he put it across that way. Then he tried to hurt himself and I stopped him.

This isn't the first time I've dreamed about him. But it is the first time in a few years I've had one. I really think there's something wrong with me. My roommate Lark just told me to stop beating myself up about it and whatever happens happens. It's been almost ten years, Zim. Ten years. I mean, when my mother died, I was sad but I was able to move past it. I don't understand why I can't move past this. I thought I had for a little while there but after tonight . . . I'm not so sure.

I hope wherever you are you're okay. I hope you were able to get your hearing and eyesight fixed. Zim without the whole package just isn't Zim.

"You could say that again," Zim murmured.

And, I don't know if this makes a difference anymore, but I have to tell you the truth. When I told you I didn't want to be friends anymore, I hadn't wanted that. Not at all. Looking back on that night, I realized how deeply I'd hurt you and for that I'm truly sorry. Cutting you out of my life because of my brother's death didn't make things better. It didn't make them worse but it didn't make them better. I guess your telling me you were leaving should tell me you still care. I just want you to know I still care too.

If you ever return, please come see me. I know you could probably find me wherever I'd be - you're that good, I think ;) Tell Gir I said hi. Oh yeah, and if you happen to find some Irken female companion, just remember I could kick her ass any day of the week. Stay sane.

-Gaz

Zim closed the computer and sat there for a little while. He held no doubt in his mind about that last part. It thrilled him and made him grin and grin like never before. She still loves me, I can't believe it. After a human boyfriend creature, she'd still rather be with me. Of course, why should this shock me? I am Zim!

"I knew you were worth it," he said aloud to himself. "I knew it." He climbed out of the cockpit, more sure than ever of where he was going and why he was going there. It was like the sun rising in Gaz's room. Something that could have been hope rose in him, edging out the main resident of despair and suddenly the six months to Earth didn't seem like such a long journey after all.

"Gir," he called. "We're leaving soon so wherever you are, come out because I'm not going to . . ." He never got to finish that sentence.

Suddenly there was an explosion and the lights went out. For a second nothing moved, there was no sound.

"ALL INVADERS REPORT TO YOUR BATTLESTATIONS. THE MASSIVE IS UNDER ATTACK! THIS IS NO DRILL PEOPLE, MOVE!!"

After that, all hell broke loose.