A/n: So I realize that I kinda screwed myself, in the last chapter, cos I didn't want what happened to Gaz said now. I don't have an outline to this, and am just kinda letting my mind wander with what happens (Though I do have the main plot worked out, and of course, the ending, which was my whole point to this fic), and, while it fit for Dib to confess to Kala then, it wasn't the original plan. I wanted to draw it out a little longer cos I wanted a certain flashback scene to follow it, but now it can't cos I'm not that far in the flashback, yet. Ah well. C'est la vie and such. The sex wasn't supposed to be there, either. In short, the entire last chapter was completely different than I had originally planned. My brain sucks for making that happed. Evil, evil brain. Grr. I need to remember to stab it with a q-tip or something.

I also realized that I didn't correct the A/n at the beginning of the last chapter when it said I had Two reviews, and then thanked Three people. Oops. I had begun the chapter earlier in the night before two reviews got to me. So, yeah. It's not that I can't count, I swear.

I'm gonna rant at the end of this, because I've noticed something that irks me about other authors on this site and their review/update procedures. But I'll leave that till the end, and let you guys do what you came here for and read the next chapter. Yup yup.

Disclaimer: I don't own Zim. Mr. Vasquez does, in all of his Spooky glory. Mmmm…spooky.

For the next few years things were pretty civil between Zim and I. Our truce meant that we no longer played our war games, aside from the occasional paintball match or water balloon fight in the summer (after Zim had thoroughly bathed himself in paste, of course; though it was hard to resist the occasional squirt of water while he was unprepared, if only to keep him on his toes.) Gaz still held up her stoic, unattached, rather frightening persona when she joined us in high school, but something was different. Something was…off. I noticed her spending more time downstairs, in stead of locked in her room as she had done since she hit puberty, especially whenever Zim was over. This was another one of those things that, like the fact she had taken to wearing my old trench coat, I really just couldn't put my finger on her reasoning. But there were times when I would run up to my room for something and come back down to find her and the alien talking pleasantly over cans of Poop Cola in the kitchen or battling on-screen on one of Gaz's many fighting games. Marvel Vs Capcom seemed to be their favorite, but only because Gaz seemed to find it sickly amusing to kick someone's ass with a character that looks like it came out of a Lego set. After a while I got over my surprise at these interactions and found myself easily joining in their conversations or claiming to play "winner" during their video game tournaments. I would sit on the couch next to my sister (Zim normally opted for the floor, claiming it was more comfy than having something pressing up against his pak), and was almost able to convince myself that we were becoming something of a family. A few times I would glance over at my sister and have her meet my gaze with a smile. A small, almost sad one, of course, because Gaz had never really smiled since our mother died, but still. It was something. It was uplifting. It was encouraging. It was the way things should be.

Our peace lasted for years. We progressed though the public school system, graduated (both Zim and I at the top of our class, holding the positions of solitarian and valedictorian respectively, and Gaz settling somewhere in the top hundred, but still graduating with honors. Dad showed up at both as a guest speaker, though only on hover screen, which I noticed missing by the time I walked the stage, and while Gaz did two years later. But then, it was understandable. He did have toast to make and all) and moved on to college. Gaz went to the local tech school for graphic design, while Zim and I attended the university. Me for journalism (while I never gave up my dream of being a paranormal investigator, I realized that, as a journalist, I may be taken a little more seriously), and Zim for…well, we never were able to figure out what Zim went for. I don't think he was actually enrolled in the school—he just attended any classes that caught his fancy, never sticking with one for too long, but it kept him occupied.

It was a calm, eventless existence, but it was a welcome change from the chaotic years of our youth. However, our peace was short lived. Shortly after my 20th birthday, everything changed.

One day, Zim got a phone call.

He showed up at my door that day in April unannounced, which was really how he did everything. I had long since moved out of my father's house and into my own one bedroom apartment closer to the city where the university was. Gaz had decided to stay at home, finding it cheaper for her first year of college, and Zim had always lived alone in his base, aside from Gir, so he had just stayed there. I wonder, however, if things wouldn't have happened the way they did, had he just accepted my offer to have him be my roommate. But then, he always was too stubborn for his own good.

He didn't knock when he entered my apartment—he never did, anymore, and walked straight into my bedroom where I was working on a paper for my Comp II class. I greeted him with a smile as he entered and sat on my bed, and raised a finger to him signaling that I would be able to talk in just a minute, as soon as I finished the paragraph I was working on. He nodded, and continued to sit on the edge of the mattress, looking slightly distracted and uncomfortable. I could sense that something was wrong, which made me frown as I put the finishing touches on my paper, and ran the spell check. I hadn't seen the alien this bothered in years. Not since Gir had unexplainably shut down one day because the robot had eaten too many chocolate cupcakes and it slopped up his motherboard. I swiveled my chair towards him and asked him what the matter was.

He sighed. "I got a call, last night." He looked at the bedspread, picking at a loose threat with his fingers, "From the Tallest."

I gaped at him. He had explained to me all about his culture long ago, and I knew that a sudden call from his leaders after so long of a silence could only really mean one thing. I prayed that what my instincts were telling me was wrong "What did they want?"

"They…they told me that they had taken over the majority of the planets on our side of the galaxy and had made the trip over here to see if there was anything worth taking. They noticed that while most of the planets on this side are uninhabited and therefore, ripe for conquest, Earth has a solid population, and an empire can never have enough followers, or enough slaves. The fact that your people are tall makes them an even better steal. To oppress those taller than one's self would be a great accomplishment.

They contacted me to offer me reinstatement into the collective. They would give me back my title of Invader—for real this time, not just because I couldn't be pacified with a sandwich. They would have the Control Brains re-code my pak and everything. For some reason, actually, the Control Brains were the ones who suggested that the Tallest contact me to begin with. They informed the Tallest that my banishment should be revoked, and that Earth was worthy of being the first planet admitted into Operation Impending Doom 3. All I have to do is give up all of the information that I have collected over the years. All I have to do is give them Earth, and I can go home."

I stared for a few minutes, my mouth agape. I didn't know how to react at first, but then, after my body had caught up with my racing brain, I was able to ask the question I already knew the answer to.

"What…what did you say?"

He looked me in the eye. "I told them yes."

I felt my heart break in that instant. My body went cold, numb. I wanted to cry and beat the crap out of the small green creature who had become my best friend. How could he do something like this? After everything his people put him through, how could he just go back to them? I shouted these questions at him rapid-fire, spewing them from my mouth as quickly as my brain thought them up. I was on my feet, throwing my hands in the air, pacing like a mad man. He sat there, calmly, on the edge of my bed, taking in my tirade and then asked a simple question that made me stop dead.

"Do you love your father?" He asked.

I stared at him. I realized I had been doing that a lot within the past few minutes. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"After everything your father has done to you—ignore you, abandon you emotionally after your mother died, belittled your interests and your accomplishments—do you still love him?"

"Of course I do. He's my father."

"Would you do anything he asked to get into his good graces? To have him notice you? To have him tell you that he's proud of you and that he loves you?

"Yes," I answered, hesitantly, still not fully realizing where this line of questioning was going.

"I never had a father. The only memory of a parent I have is of a cold unfeeling robot arm. However, I do hold the same sense of loyalty, the same sense of love for the Control Brains and the Tallest. I was never nurtured, I was never cared for, but I was provided for. I was given a path. I was given food and shelter and clothing and a meaning for my existence. The Control Brains brought me to life. I owe them just as much as you owe your father. I love and respect them just as much as you do your father. And, just like you, I would do anything I can for just the opportunity that maybe, just maybe, they will say the same for me. I'm sorry, Dib. I know that you feel that I've betrayed you, but I can't pass up this chance. I'm sorry."

He stood, looking up at my shocked expressing with eyes that reflected sadness, but also fierce determination. "The next time we meet, Dib, we will be enemies. We're no longer children. I will not hesitate to kill you."

"I know." I replied, "You can be assured the same from me." I placed my hand on his shoulder.

"I know. That's why I came here to tell you. I didn't want to meet on the battlefield as friends. It would hurt too much to die that way."

We embraced they way brothers would and he turned then and walked towards the door. Pausing with his hand on the knob, he said, "Tell Gaz that I'm sorry."

"She won't understand." I explained, shaking my head.

He looked back over his shoulder at me. It was the last time I looked into his eyes as a friend, "She's going to have to."

The sound of the door closing behind him resonated in my ears for what felt like years.

The process of getting re-dressed was much more awkward that I remembered. Kala and I adverted our eyes from each other's bodies, trying hard not to meet the other's gaze. The conversation was slight, mainly consisting of reassurance that, while neither of us regretted out actions, it was something that wouldn't happen again. Nor should it be spoken of. In fact we should both just forget it. We were being both fully honest and lying to each other at the same time. For some reason it made me feel 17, again.

We left the gym together, silent for most of the walk towards my office. When we arrived, she turned to me, and tilted her head to look at my face. "What should I tell the troops? What are we going to do, now? Zim knows our position. He knows when we're going to attack. What happens now?"

"When did Gir's records say our attack date was?"

"Three weeks from now. December 28th."

"Wait—the 28th? What day is it today?"

"The 7th, why?"

I felt a grin form on my face. How could I not realize how close it was? How could I have forgotten? Three days from now, 21 years ago, a very important person in my life was born. One who was taken from me all too soon. One who I had sworn to revenge. One who's father was always a little too busy to give her a proper birthday party. Well this year, I was going to make sure she got one.

My face hurt my grin was so large as I told Kala to ready the troops. We would attack in three days.

"Why?" she asked, her expression slightly disturbed in my sudden enthusiasm.

"We're gonna celebrate Gaz's birthday. And this year, it's going out with a bang."

A/n: OK, that's enough for now. I feel like it may have gotten a bit rushed at the end, here, but it's 330 am, and I really just wanted to get that little bit out of the way there. Whee. I need some sleep. As always, review? Please?

Which does lead me to a little rant—why do some authors try and bribe or threaten their readers when it comes to reviews and updating chapters? What's up with this "I won't update till I have 5/10/15 reviews?" I know that everyone loves feedback, and really, we're writing hoping that people will read, but I don't think that saying " I require reviews or else I won't write anymore" is the right way of going about it. If you have a story to tell, just tell it. Don't let the fact that not enough people are saying "good job" or too many people are saying "bad job" get you down. I have read and enjoyed many stories and didn't review. Either cos I didn't have time or I just couldn't think of anything to say other than "nice fic", but that doesn't mean that I think that it's worth less on ones that I have reviewed. I dunno. It's just something that I noticed and bothered me, and I'm prolly not even expressing myself well, cos it is 330 I the morning and I have worked all night and I am dead as a zombie tired.

I will, however, never try and bribe you guys with chapters for reviews. Tho I do appreciate them. A lot. Sometimes they're the only thing that will keep me smiling, so please, give the review button your love. But if you don't I'll still give you at least one chapter a week. Just cos I have a story to tell.