Saving Zim by Dib07

Summary:

When you had it all. When old age forces you to change. When life isn't what you'd imagined. When you aren't prepared to be so powerless.

When a soldier's undetermined future remains his greatest fear.

Disclaimer:

I do not own the IZ characters. However this story and this idea is mine.

Cover art beautifully made by TheCau! All credit goes to her, please do not use without his permission, thank you :)

Warnings:

Character angst. Blood. Swearing.


Bruh...

If you ever see this, I am so sorry. I am gonna update. Give me a few weeks, just to make sure it is crispy awesome, I wanna mean something on this fandom, and I want to give new fans something to bite into, something to excite them, and open the doors to the Zim world. Disappointing anyone hurts. Especially when it concerns my contribution to Invader Zim. Thank you for staying. Thank you for reminding me of what's important.


Dib07: Hi all! Welcome to the first few chapters that have had a good dollop of polish on them, and in many cases a full rewrite in some sections, and a few new scenes or even chapters. Please feel free to review or comment, I always reply to every single one!

And thank you Piratemonkies64 for the youtube audio chapters!

For all those who are new to this story, this novel is for the adults who have grown up with these characters, and want something a little darker.

little side-note:

I thank everyone who supported my first story. If you're new to my stories then I welcome you!

Please review, same as always, it might make new chapters appear faster!


Chapter 5: The Second Hand Ticks

"You still carry that thing around?" He asked, the leash attached to Gir's collar perpetually propelling him forwards in any direction whether he was prepared for the momentum or not.

"It's nice!"

The clouds were overcast, and the soldier's eyes would stray to the sky in worry. The sun crept out every now and again for brief interludes before being devoured by the consuming mist, enveloping the street in miserable iron grey. The snow had turned to everlasting grey slush as well, and rotted black leaves were added decoration to the winter gloom. During these periods, when the winters seem to last for an eternity, he would ask himself why he had chosen to land in America, and not somewhere warm and hot, like the tropical Bahamas.

Gir, squeaking along on his doggy paws, half carried and half dragged the doll through the muck and slush whenever he opted to walk on all four 'paws.' He had found it during one of the Dib's dumb paranormal investigations in a place called the Earlstone Mansion. It had lopsided stitches for a mouth, and shiny black buttons for eyes. When Gir had brought it home, Zim threw it in about every type of cleaning and scrubbing machine he had in the hopes of disinfecting it. It had come out a slightly paler brown, but the nature of its fabric still made it look grubby.

When the wind gusted, especially when he led Gir round a curb, he placed a gloved hand on his head to keep the wig from flying away. It was so cold that even the humans walked around slightly hunched, hands deep in their pockets, furry hoods over their heads.

They stopped by a zebra road sign, waiting for the traffic to ease. Gir was getting better at waiting, even when there was usually something tempting on the other side of the road, like one of the millions of Mac Meaties that dominated the city, or a toy shop slathered in posters publicizing 'sales' and 'half price toys.' Zim snapped his attention left and right as cars moseyed past, leaking their noxious fumes into the air. He brought a hand to his chest and rubbed there, watching a group of children go through the doors of the toy shop opposite the road.

"Does it hurt?" Gir asked.

"Of course not." He quickly dropped his hand away. Gir kept looking up at him from those mix-matched eyes. "It's just anxiety pains, Gir. I've always had them."

The 'walking sign' changed to green and Gir was jerking on the leash. Grumbling, Zim was pulled forwards across the road. Cyclones of whipping snow tried to engulf them, and he could feel his skin tingling from the constant agitation brought on by the damp and snow.

The toy shop wasn't especially warm, and offered the same icy appeal as the cold outside. Zim stood by an old, rusty radiator by the shop window, cuddling his arms to his chest. With the leash dragging along the floor, Gir raced down each aisle, cradling that voodoo thing under one arm. He could hear the squawk of children and the reciprocating squawk of their parents as this doggie thing rushed through or under them - their combined noises sounding like the screams of argumentative seagulls.

While he waited, he tried to keep his mind focused on the immediate present, but his thoughts would shift and double back on worries that could never be held down or locked away for very long.

Gir returned earlier than expected, carrying a little paper bag of store-bought goodies. The weird 'cursed' doll sat atop this acquired pile with its disquieting stitched smile. "Done already?" Not that the robot needed anymore crap. One repository was already full with stuffed teddy bears of about every colour known to man, a jungle of plastic play sets and doll accessories. The last time he had tried getting the computer to open the door, he'd almost suffocated under the giant girth of a six-foot teddy bear.

Gir nodded. "Wanna eat now?"

"We're not going on another trip to some dirty food place! There's plenty of food at home. Besides, I have this stupid arrangement with the Dib tonight. All we do is sit there, looking at each other. I don't know why I bother going."

"He's worried."

"About what?" He stopped suddenly, smiling slightly at his mistake. "Of course he should be worried! He doesn't know what my next plan is! It's good to keep him on his toes." He bent down and scooped the loop of the leash back through his bony claws.

Battling the stinging winds and snow, with his pink scarf trying to take off, they arrived home. Even with the interior heating system sending warm air into the lounge and kitchen, he couldn't stop shivering. He hung up Gir's dripping dog costume, and his equally dripping winter coat, eye contacts, wig and scarf. The Elite had barely finished mopping the mud from his boots when the robot came over to present him with a white paper parcel. On it was a crudely drawn, pink coloured symbol of a heart. "For yous!" The robot always sounded delighted whenever he was offering him something, whether it was a piece of rubbish left on the sidewalk, a banana peel or maybe once in a blue moon, something of value.

Zim took it with the same impartial expression. "Very eh, nice of you, Gir." He ripped open the parcel, thinking it to be more token rubbish, maybe a button this time, or a festering bit of food. A new 3DS would be welcomed, since Gir had lost the last one.

A tiny glass bottle slipped out of the little package and onto his gloved palm.

"Rub. Like this." And Gir demonstrated by rubbing his metallic hands on his chassis.

Zim nodded, like he did time and time again, not even bothering to ask what it was, or what it did. He popped the glass bottle back into its parcel, and then placed the parcel next to the other parcels lining the shelf above the couch, all of them displaying similar rips and tears.

From tired eyes he looked to the clock sternly ticking away on the mantle, noting the time. Gir scrabbled onto the couch, seeking the remote that had fallen down the side, and flicked on the TV. The soldier walked with a slightly stiff-sided gait to the bookcase when he felt those little metal arms around him. Zim put on a forced smile, patting the robot's head. "Let go, Gir. I've got to work."

"Stay." He squeaked.

"I can't." He peeled those metallic arms off him, watching those cyan eyes dip to soft upside down crescents.

-x-

He ran a bony hand along the glowing, pastel purple wall, feeling the rivets and arterial tubes and apparatuses that carried energy and plasma around the base. Sometimes he wanted to loosen the weight from his back, just for awhile. The PAK seemed to sit heavier on him most days, as if it had grown somehow, or that he had weakened.

He had never paid any mind to the vast scale of his base, but traversing such lengths had become a daily effort. Sometimes he conceded to the various options and services of mobile travel, such as teleportation hubs, platform lifts and so on, but there were times when he resented the aids, choosing instead to walk, climb or trek to certain destinations as he had done millions of times before without trouble.

It was a morbid thing to do, owing too much to obsession perhaps, but he wanted to find something that he hadn't seen before, a solution perhaps, buried in the algorithm of data. He sat on the little smooth-sided chair where its piston raised him to the console, and he scrutinised the numbers, but his cold detachment of the situation wasn't as tightly controlled as before, and his concentration kept slipping.

He tipped hollow eyes from the giant screen and touched the dab of wet on the keypad.

"M-Master?"

He turned, stiffening. "Yes? What is it?"

Gir stood in the metal doorway, the purple lights tainting him in a lavender shade. His shoulders were drooping, his single antenna as soft as felt.

Zim half rose from the chair. "What's wrong?"

The robot patted over, and the Irken was about to wedge an arm between them when Gir merely took his father's hand, and pulled. Blinking, Zim slowly relented and knelt on the polished sequinned floor. When Gir hugged him, there was no restricting tightness, only a sudden desperation.

"What's come over you?" He waited for the moment to be over so that he could go back to his work, but the sharpness of his demands only seemed to make the robot cling to him all the tighter. He gave a heavy sigh and awkwardly patted the S.I.R unit on the back. "Everything's going to be fine, Gir." He said, maintaining the steel in his voice. "You can let go now." He gently pushed the robot off him to see Gir's cyan eyes drip incessantly with tears.

"Will you watch TV with me?"

Zim's lips parted, about to brush off the offer when he saw those tears continue to fall.


Dib07: Hello there, and thank you for spending the time to visit this story! If there is any interest please let me know, and I'll keep updating!

I am very glad the original was enjoyed so much, and that, in many eyes, it has become a favourite.

In the meantime you can read the old version in Archives of Our Own under the same name, or you can visit Piratemonkies64 channel on youtube and watch the incredible audio chapter books from chapter 1 to chapter 11! They encapsulate the emotion and tension in its original creation, and retain the soul of what I aimed for way back when I first wrote this novel! So please do check it out!

Your support has kept me going! No joke! Uploading these updates on FFN have been because of your support!