Disclaimer: I don't own Invader Zim, if I did it wouldn't be as good.
Author's Note: Okay people, I know that I usually do League of Extraordinary Gentleman stuff, but I've been on a six month block with that. I'm trying to get back in the swing of things but first I wanted to post this Zim fic I was writing (and for the record, 'Phiri, I'm the bigger fan! Mwah ha ha) To people that don't know, 'Phiri is my sister and we sort of compete a lot.
Okay, this one is sort of depressing so I apologize. I know I know, not my usual style but I like it anyway. Also, for people who get confused out there. This is NOT slash, not even implied, okay? So don't take it that way. Now here you go.
Warning: Implied suicidal thoughts.
Insecure
Crazy? Crazy they called him?
Dib stalked his way past fellow classmates, pretending to have not heard what they had been saying. He had grown used to it now, it never chaged.
"It's been three years, you'd think he would have gotten over it."
Right, like that was an option. He was sixteen now, that day actually, but no one really cared about a pyschopath's birthday. He was sixteen which meant it had beensix years since the alien freak had landed...
But only three since the incident...
"Maybe he blames himself."
"Maybe he did it..."
Three years prior there had been an "accident" on a school field trip to the lake. Zim had kept well away from the water most of the day, with good reason, but towards the end of the trip Dib managed to point that fact out. With the risk of his cover being blown he would have to go near the water...
Dib shook the memory away as he reached his house. He was scanned by the sensors and let in. The two classmates followed him with their eyes before quickly shuffling away.
"Do you think the stories are true? Did he really kill..."
Dib slammed the door unintentionally, startling his sister. Three years ago she would have made him suffer for his action. Today...
"Hey Dib," she said, both kindly and nervously. "Did you want to watch Mysterious Mysteries?" Dib shook his head no and continued up the stairs.
"You want chocolate bubble-gum!" Screamed the little blue-eyed robot next to his sister. He ignored it and slowly turned into his room.
"Maybe Dib is right, maybe you are an alien." Zita had shouted.
"Nonsense! I just forgot to bring my bathing suit." Zim had replied. The students all nodded, accepting that answer. Dib didn't even try to convince them of their stupidity. Today his plan was much more vile...
His room was a wreck. The walls were painted black with a slightly red glow in the shape of letters. All of the computers that once were the focal point of the room now lay scattered and dismantled across the black carpet, each piece looking as though it had been stepped on many times. Theroom looked like it had been destroyed and abandoned years before. Three to be exact.
The ground was slippery and he was close to the edge. It could easily have been an accident. That was what everyone else believed, but Dib knew the truth. One push, one earsplitting scream...
Three years of regret...
The first month after was shock. The second was denial. He had just saved the world! Every should be appreciative! It was that little blue-eyed robot that changed him...
He showed up at the Membrane household terrified and holding a little rubber piggy. "Master not come home..." he had whispered. That moment affected the boy in a way that no one would ever understand. The realization finally hit him about what had really happened.
Late that night he went back to his old rival's house for the first time in three months, and for what would be the last time. He contacted his rival's leaders to alert them of what had happened (he received a medal of honor for the destruction of the much hated Irken which he promptly destroyed.)
Later he would give the robot to his sister. That was the last truly sane thing he would do...
Lightning outside the window lit up the dark room. On the walls in a gruesome red was the word MURDERER, the sleeves on the boys jacket did a marvelous job hiding the scars that were used to paint the word. The boy stared at his ceiling, a dead look in his eyes, just like he had every night for the last three years.
He hadn't just killed an alien, he had killed a classmate. He had killed someone who's mission was the same as his own. To gain respect from someone he idolized, to be trusted, to be believed. In killing his rival he had actually killed himself...
The kids at school still called him crazy...
It's for a different reason...
And none of them even know the half of it.
Author's Note: Please review if you read this. I'd like to know what you thought. Just don't flame it, 'k?
And sorry for the shortness. There wasn't much more that needed to be said.