Disclaimer: I don't own Invader Zim-clk-on't own Invader Zim-clk-on't own Invader Zim-clk SKRRRRTCH! Jhonen Vasquez does.

Thank you to any and everybody who has given me any kind of insight at all, even indirectly so, into what could possibly cause a character to act the way Gaz does.

I want to dedicate this fic to everyone who hears "America hates Dib" as an observation, not a command. I hope all five of you especially enjoy reading it.

Perpetual Emotion

One Dark Side

Gaz sat down on the front step and lifted her face from her game long enough to look up and down the street, then sighed in frustration and annoyance. It was getting closer to suppertime and still no Dib. When he came home, he was really going to get it for what he'd done this time.

"Stupid boring neighbourhood. Nothing ever happens," she grumbled, as a circus billboard was going up further along the block and an ice cream wagon jingled merrily down the street. Two driveways away, a small child was wheeling his tricycle around and around in circles. When he tried too sharp a turn, he lost his balance and the tricycle toppled over. When all Gaz could hear was a barely audible whimper, she turned away again in boredom. "Eh."

Gaz had been born with an unfortunate biochemistry, one which registered none but the most extreme stimulation. It took a great deal to get her attention, and consequently very few things affected her. In the same way that a hearing impaired person will shout, Gaz used excessive force to get her point across, with her unfortunate brother Dib receiving the full force of this.

The siblings had such different interests that whenever Dib tried to share something with her that he found exciting and interesting, he was met with the choice to shut up or get beat up. And when Gaz decide she did want his attention, well, those were invariably the very times that that malicious idiot had deliberately chosen to keep to himself! For such monumentally unforgivable offenses, Gaz would smite him as brutally as the highest high priestess of the idol Revenge.

By adding the above to a superhuman stubbornness and never quite outgrowing her infantile self-centeredness, Gaz had presented a formidable challenge to her late mother. A kind and conscientious parent, Ms. Membrane had been greatly disturbed that such a sister was to be included among the girls Dib had to be trained not to hit, and in the five years allotted to her after Gaz's birth, had done her very best to instill some kind of respect for her brother, not to mention self-control, into her daughter. Just as she wasn't about to let Dib hit a girl, neither was she willing to permit Gaz to hit someone who wasn't allowed to hit her back.

At first she tried reasoning and explaining, that it wasn't fair, that it hurt him, that nice people don't do that sort of thing. When Dib continued his happy chattering for no other reason than the sole purpose of irritating her, that simply told Gaz that she hadn't hurt him enough yet.

Then Ms. Membrane tried making sure her children shared as many pleasant experiences as possible. She was constantly planning trips to the park, the zoo, the circus, the movies, hoping Gaz would figure that at least some of the fun came from having Dib nearby. However, not only did Gaz always seem less than amused, seeing Dib daring to enjoy something she didn't made an already difficult situation still worse.

Next Ms. Membrane tried getting Gaz away to herself and rewarding her for being good... only to see Gaz run off to immediately to shake her bribe in Dib's face and gloat.

Ms. Membrane didn't know what to try next and she was fast running out of options. In this post-feminist era, child psychologists who would dare discourage a girl from acting "empowered" were few and far between. Well, power bought with it responsibility, which was something that Ms. Membrane was beginning to despair that Gaz would ever learn.

Even though she knew it would have doubled the actual violence, Ms. Membrane often wished that Gaz had been a boy or Dib a girl. To expect anyone to just sit back and take physical abuse was outrageous enough; how could it be in any way right or moral to require this of a pre-school child? If Gaz could only get hit back herself, that might be the only thing that could possibly get through that hard head of hers; nothing Ms. Membrane had tried yet was making the situation the least bit better.

In desperation Gaz's mother finally resorted to smacking her on the bottom and when Gaz refused to cry, Ms. Membrane had difficulty gauging how much force was enough. And the exceptional nervous system that didn't respond to either the pleasant experiences or the gentler swats registered only the stiffest spankings.

Afterwards Ms. Membrane would hide the tears in her own eyes as she explained that she loved Gaz as much as ever, that she wished she didn't have to do this, that she was trying to spare Gaz even worse punishments later on, such as having no friends if she hit the other skool children, or going to jail if she still hit people after she grew up. Gaz stared back dry-eyed, her resentment blocking out the message, resolving to pass on the beating the very next time she was alone with Dib because this whole thing, after all, started out as HIS fault... with the promise of another, worse beating if he told on her.

Mommy gets mad at me when HE'S around. Dib's greedy, he keeps all the fun for himself. So punish him for smiling, Mommy, because I don't see anything to smile for. Well? Why aren't you?

One sunny winter day shortly before Christmas Ms. Membrane took both kids out to the country for a sleigh ride. That would surely put Gaz in a good mood, and Dib, bless his heart, enjoyed just about everything! On the way back, right before they passed through an intersection on the edge of town, they noticed several cars stopped up ahead, including a police car, and crowds of people staring intently at something. Both children were in the back seat this time, and whatever was happening was on Dib's side of the car. Ms. Membrane prudently slowed down as the car approached the commotion, and finally they were close enough to see the cause. When they saw what it was, it held even Gaz's interest.

A slender little brown dog had just been run over. Yelping piteously, it was pulling itself around in circles across the reddened snow, dragging a pink leash and glancing back now and then towards its hind legs as if wondering why they wouldn't move any more. A girl of about 10, wearing a pale green one piece snow suit, sat nearby on the ground, hands hiding her mouth, her crying face a startling scarlet. A man in a black overcoat and whose face matched the color of the snow, having managed to climb out of his car, now needed to lean against it for support; his legs were visibly shaking and he dared not turn to face the gathering crowd. One police officer was holding back the people; the other was stooping down to the girl. The little dog continued to crawl around and around, yelping, yelping...

Roughly Gaz elbowed Dib aside. This time he was only too glad to surrender his place and buried himself into the opposite corner of the backseat, weeping with as much abandon as if the dog had been his own.

Gaz felt something. It didn't feel good, but Gaz almost never felt anything. "Mommy go back!" Gaz shouted. She wanted to figure out what she was feeling. Was this what her mother meant all those times she talked about feeling bad because somebody else was hurt or sad?

"No, Gaz honey. There is nothing we can do to help."

"I said go back! I wanna see - "

"No Gaz we are not going back! We can't help!" Ms. Membrane wanted to put as much distance between the car and that horrible scene as she could.

Fuming, Gaz turned on Dib. This is your fault! Just because YOU don't want to see! We never get to do ANYTHING I ask for, you laughed all over nothing more than a stupid boring sleigh ride and now you won't even...!

Gaz grabbed Dib's hair scythe and leaned her entire weight backwards against him, kicking and punching with her free arm and leg. As Dib was already crying like his heart was broken, and as Ms. Membrane was doing her best not to look back, it was a minute or so before she noticed what was going on in the back seat.

Immediately she pulled over, tore Gaz away from Dib and screamed "What on EARTH do I keep TELLING you about that!" before enthroning a none too repentant, even smug, Gaz in the front seat, safely away from a now extremely unhappy Dib.

The more Ms. Membrane and Gaz tried to get their viewpoints across to the other, the worse it would get for Dib. Like most people, their extended family swallowed hook, line, and sinker the belief that no little girl could ever be anything else but harmless, sweet and innocent, which even further supported Gaz's belief that she was in the right. At Ms. Membrane's wake, even as Gaz kicked Dib in a funeral parlor packed with eyewitnesses, they still continued believing it. Dib's father usually showed him more discipline than support, so that at the age of six Dib now found himself with no one to turn to for help.

As the small boy's mother came out of the house to comfort him and pick up the tricycle, Gaz glared up and down the street once again, refusing to allow herself to wonder if something had happened to Dib. On their way home from skool, Zim had run past them shrieking some stupidity about a big boot stomping all over the world, and Dib had run off after Zim, shouting back over his shoulder to Gaz that this wouldn't take long and he would be home soon.

Some part of Gaz always felt anxious when someone left her, because Gaz had a horrible secret. One day her mother had actually taken away Gaz's game for doing nothing more than throwing something or other at Dib, and for so outrageous an injustice Gaz had wished her mother would die... which was exactly what happened! That was the only thing that had ever scared Gaz, and she still hoped nobody would ever find out what she had done. It was really Dib's fault, of course, for having caused her to throw something at him, but Gaz was certain that she would be the one to get the blame. After all, that's what her mother always did... punish Gaz when it was really Dib who started it.

To add even further to the growing list of things she couldn't have the second she wanted them, Gaz no longer dared risk wishing death on anybody, instead venting her frustrations with actual injuries and insults. No matter how ferocious her physical or verbal assaults, nobody ever died... and each such attack that didn't result in a death eased her anxiety for at least a little while. But as soon as people began finding out what she had done, they would certainly abandon her one by one.

On top of that, her father, who was nicer to her than her mother had ever been, had begun spending more and more time away from the house. That, too, was Dib's fault. Their father couldn't stand listening to Dib's nonstop nonsense either and was forever telling him to give up that stupid parajunk. Gaz wished Duke Nukem was her brother instead, someone who not only knew when to keep his mouth shut but who went around shooting, destroying and blowing up everything! Now THAT would rock!

Gaz squinted, her irritation increasing. People leaving. That was the story of her life. On days like this, it was all Gaz could do not to wish Dib dead too. Taking one more look around for any sign of him approaching, Gaz now noticed a ginger tabby cat slowly walking through their side yard towards the back of the house. Ah. Animals wouldn't leave you.

Gaz walked into the side yard, bent down and wiggled her fingers. "Here kitty kitty kitty."

The cat looked in Gaz's general direction and slowly blinked, as if to declare it had heard her but was ignoring her, then turned to head elsewhere. Cats are not exactly renowned for their tendency to come when called.

But when Gaz wanted something, she wanted it NOW. "HERE KITTY KITTY KITTY!" This had no effect on the cat at all.

Gaz now shouted, "I SAID HERE KITTY KITTY KITTY!" stomping toward the cat with firm, measured strides.

The cat looked at Gaz once more and upon seeing her threatening demeanor, crouched before hopping into the nearby shrubbery along the outer wall of the house next door.

When Gaz looked around for something to throw she noticed a stone the size of her fist. She bent down for it and after an elaborate wind up, fired it with all the force she could muster directly into the spot where the shrub's leaves had stopped moving. A pained yowl, followed a moment later by a second one, told her that the stone had indeed hit its intended target. Smirking with satisfaction Gaz tucked her GameSlave under her elbow and stalked back indoors, slapping her hands together to shake the dust off them. There. That would teach that cat to run away when she called it.

Finally Dib got around to showing up. "Sorry Gaz," he said, panting as if something had actually happened, "but it was all... all for a good cause! I've as good as... as good as got him! I found out how to save the earth! I know what... what Zim's plans are! Well, by that I mean his immediate plans, his... his short term plans, but once I stop them, the next step will be... !"

Nothing could possibly be that exciting. Not facing the necessary direction to notice Gaz's glare, Dib continued babbling, until she wondered why she had ever wanted him to come home. Only when he started preparing dinner did she finally remember.

Dib had just begun dinner preparations when he remembered it was laundry day. He collected his clothes and bed sheets easily enough, but getting Gaz's was trickier. While the world would end if he set foot in her room, she was equally enraged if he dared ask her to bring her own clothes out for him. The best solution he had yet found to this dilemma was to go right ahead and start the washer; this usually prompted Gaz to remember that she had wash too, tell him he'd do it now if he knew what was good for him, and proceed to fling her own laundry out into the hall where it was safe for him to touch it. By now Dib had also learned that when doing the wash he'd be wise to conceal all signs of eagerness to go out; the greater his urgency, the more likely Gaz was to wait until seconds before the entire cycle would have finished before ordering him to stop the machine and sit there and wait... and wait... and wait... while she played her game until she just happened to be in the mood to take the minute or two necessary to gather her own clothes.

Dib forced himself to act as if he had no particular plans for after supper so his good old laundry trick worked, relatively soon, too. As he bent to pick up Gaz's clothes, she shoved down on the back of his head so he lost his balance and landed face first in the pile of dirty clothing. "That's for not waiting for me, and also for making me do all that work!"

Dib scowled at Gaz's retreating back, but not for long. His mind was too busy hatching ideas for stopping Zim's evil plan.

As first the washer and then the dryer whirred in the background, Dib prepared supper, which he didn't seem able to do without talking non-stop about every single thing that had happened throughout the entire day. Gaz continued to play her game and tried, none too successfully, to tune him out. At her mother's wake everybody had talked non-stop the entire day, and now too much conversation always made Gaz uneasy; suppose the subject of her mother came up? At least her father covered for her, speaking as if her mother was still alive. A rock in the never ending stream of Dib's meaningless babbling, Gaz felt her earlier anger building once again, but didn't trust herself to say anything more than, "Shut up, Dib," and even that only once or twice.

Before long Dib would forget himself and start talking again. Throughout his cheerful chatter he sometimes paused to ask Gaz a question, a question which always remained unanswered. Dib resumed talking when he could no longer endure the lonely silence.

Dib continued to talk as they ate dinner and the more he did, the more irritated Gaz became. She even caught herself beginning to wish he would choke on his next mouthful if that's what it would take to stop his endless yapping, but instead she jacked up the venom in snarling, "I said SHUT! The hell. UP! Dib!" which to her relief actually worked for the rest of the meal. Afterwards, as Dib cleared the table and prepared to wash the dishes himself, Gaz returned to the living room, unpausing the game which she had managed to put on hold just long enough to gulp down her dinner.

Presently Dib called out from the sink, his arms sunk to the elbows in hot, soapy water. "Hey Gaz! I used extra green peppers this time! You know, your favorite topping? And how about that little bit of swiss cheese along with the mozzarella, huh? What'd you think?"

"Eh. Now SHUT... UP!" Gaz played on.

Though hurt that his additional efforts had gone unappreciated if even noticed, Dib took her silence as a good sign. "Whew, she's in a good mood tonight. Only three or four shut ups and no insults at all," he muttered, folding the clothes in the laundry room. "So I guess she's not mad any more that I ran off before we got home this afternoon..." his face brightened, "...if she was ever mad in the first place! If she doesn't want to talk today either, she won't miss me too much when I go out tonight! So here I am all worried over nothing! Heh heh! Silly, silly me!"

After moving the little table in the hall closer to Gaz's door and setting her clothes on it (Never again would he just leave them down on the floor!) Dib put his own clothes away and finally collected his weapons, alien sleep cuffs and several fishing nets' worth of mesh tied together.

On his way to the front door, Dib took a detour through the living room to notify Gaz that he was leaving and to assure her he would be back. "Gaz, I'll be back as soon as - " he started to say, but stopped in midbreath. Gaz was lowering her game with ominous slowness.

"You're. Going. Out. AGAIN!" As Gaz slid off the chair, she set her GameSlave aside, causing a terrible foreboding to creep over Dib. "That's the third time this week, Dib" she growled, taking firm, measured strides up to him.

"Gaz... what is the point in my staying home? I try talking to you but all I ever get is - "

"SHUT UP!" Gaz exploded, slapping his face hard enough to dislodge his glasses; being all too used to this he managed to catch them in midair. It was a good thing they had shatterproof lenses for facing the bullies at skool; such lenses were useful when the bully at home started in on him too.

Yep, that's exactly what I get all right...

"What is THAT important? Stay home and... and DO something!" Gaz demanded icily. "You... you never do anything around here!"

All Dib could do was gape. "I don't do what?" he finally managed to say. "Who made dinner? Who cleaned everything up afterwards? Who washed the... our... YOUR clothes? Who is even now - "

"A burglar or anything could just walk in here!"

And God's own mercy on the burglar that enters this house while you're here. With his own eyes Dib had seen Gaz make lightning strike and set trees ablaze. What in the universe could make her think SHE was the one needing protection?

"Gaz, please. I'll be back just as soon as I can. This is beyond even life and death! You know about 911, you've got all those killer robots and you just lock all the - "

The next time Gaz went to hit him Dib was expecting it, but when he moved to block the blow she flew into an even wilder rage. "How... dare... you... lift your hand... to ME!" Dib turned to run, but Gaz caught the trailing edge of his trench coat and began to hail punches and kicks everywhere she could think of.

"No, Gaz, please! STOP! PLEASE!" As the pummelling continued, first Dib's fists, then more and more of his arms all the way up to the shoulders, twitched under the effort it took him not to lash out and strike back. Far too much, this reminded Dib of the only thing he could now remember about a TV movie he'd been watching one day long ago. Having taken the hero prisoner, the bad guy first made sure his captive was tied up "nice and snug" before launching a long brutal physical attack. Up until that point, Dib had thought this was the most exciting movie he'd ever seen and had been dying to find out what happened next. But so disturbing had he found this particular incident that he preferred to turn off the TV and walk away rather than continue watching something so cruelly unfair. Now if they could only make remotes for real life...

"WHY... are you always... OUT?" Gaz screamed, repeatedly slamming a foot into his shin, his thigh, his calf for emphasis. "WHY... WHY... WHY! Answer me! I said answer me GodDAMMIT!" She wound up for an exceptionally vicious kick. "WHYYYY!"

"Please, Gaz... that's enough... " Dib prayed it would soon stop; real damage could result from a hard kick to the knee.

Finally exhausted, Gaz stopped kicking and punching, but now her real assault began. She leaned in until her face was close to his before speaking slowly and quietly, every syllable writhing with contempt. "Why was I cursed with this useless excuse of a brother. You're the most worthless thing ever created."

Hurt quivered in Dib's eyes. Having found the spot, Gaz proceeded to dig herself in. "You're NOTHING to me... but an IDIOT!"

Desperately Dib squeezed his eyes shut against the tears inside. He bit his lip and held his breath, begging himself, Don't... let... the shark... smell.. blood...

Turning aside suddenly, he brought a hand up to wipe his eye, quickly but not quickly enough.

"Whiner... WHINER!" Gaz spat the words in his face.

"Well WHY do you want me AROUND then Gaz?" Dib blurted, flinging up his arms with exasperation as he suddenly swung to face her. "All you ever say to me is 'Shut up'!" He fought to keep his voice steady; with alarming speed the situation was moving beyond what he could endure. "What is it you want me to DO? Sit around all night looking at you? You don't enjoy that

too much either! "

"BE NORMAL!" Gaz shrieked back at him. "NO MORE talking about your stupid aliens! EVER!"

Even though Dib had a good idea what she would say, he thought he saw a chance to make a point. "And if I did talk about something else... would you please listen? Just for a few minutes... please? Maybe even say something other than 'shut up' before you turned your game back on?" Instead he paled even more, seeing her eyes ignite. Oh, no...

Gaz just stared at him for a second, her eyes bulging with disbelief. "You mean... you... want me... to turn off... MY. GAME." Even after demanding that he abandon his favorite subject completely, Gaz was affronted to the point of outrage at the very idea of meeting him halfway for even a few minutes. She flew into him afresh, eyes blazing. "You idiot... WHO NEEDS YOU! Get out of my sight! GET OUT I SAID GET OUT GET OUT GEEETOOOUUUT!"

Gaz watched as Dib bolted, barely managing to put his glasses back on a split second before he would have crashed into the doorframe. How had that happened? She had ended up screaming at him to do the last thing she wanted him to do.

Dib fled as quickly as he could with the aches crying out all over him. Had no alien ever arrived to threaten the planet, his haste would have been no less. In shame he kept his eyes turned down to the sidewalk; he couldn't bring himself to look up and see all those houses in which all those happy families lived. Dib vowed to stay out all night rather than return to more of this.

With only nine months separating them, Dib and Gaz were actually the same age for three months of each year; Gaz's birthday was in November and Dib's was earlier this month, February. Once again this year that icy, sunless day had passed by without so much as a verbal acknowledgement, let alone a card, from Gaz, even after the cake and presents he'd honored HERS with... and despite her being undeniably old enough to return the consideration.

Why the hell couldn't she still ever lift one precious finger around the house? She wasn't a baby any more, however much she continued acting like one. And that pile... of sheer, steaming... BULLSHIT! he kept hearing about "protecting" his "little" "sister... " Which one was that? The "little" "sister" who was so demonic that she ignited fires with her glare? The "little" "sister" who had assaulted him with neither fairness nor mercy? The "little" "sister" whose malice could pull the tears from his eyes in 25 words or less? The "little" "sister" who with spite and savagery had driven him from his own home? THAT ONE?

As the burning behind his eyes built to a throbbing behind his temples, Dib slowed and stopped, then leaned heavily against a telephone pole and closed his eyes, massaging his forehead and working back over his scalp with a shaking hand. He pressed his mouth tight against the vinegar flavored revolt boiling up through his throat; for the challenge he would face in a few minutes, he would need every bit of energy the food he had eaten could offer. After fighting back this reaction, Dib staggered on.

Finally, through the trees up ahead, Dib could see coming into view the maul Zim had targeted. While he had no idea how one could possibly start conquering the world from the starting place of a shopping maul, knowing that Zim was planning to do so made Dib responsible for stopping him.

He pounded a fist into his palm. Here at last was somebody he COULD repay like for like, punch for punch. An injury received from an enemy of the earth would at least serve a higher purpose; an injury inflicted by Zim would actually make some kind of sense.

-

End of Part One