#23- Regret

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon...
Little boy blue and the man in the moon...

I hold his hand tightly as he mutters and moans in delirium. The once proud hero of Earth is only a shell of what I remember him. I idolized him. Everyone did. He was a great shining beacon of the future, the one who protected us and saved us from ourselves.

I squeeze his hand tighter as the medication the nurses gave him begins to kick in. Slowly, he stills and he eyes begin to clear. They fix on me, bewilderment in them. "Simmons? Where am I?"

Ordinarily, I would try and remind the Professor that Simmons had been dead fifteen years, killed in a transporter accident, but I don't think it would be best to confuse the Professor today. "You're in the hospital," I tell him, leaning closer so he can see me better. "You had a bad fall."

"Fall?" Eyes glazing over for a bit he thinks before nodding. "I remember. I was working on the Device." His hand grips mine as his eyes begin to close. For a moment I think he's died, but the heart monitor still beeps softly and his chest is still rising up and down.

Removing my hand from his I flag down a nurse from the hall. "How long will he sleep?"

The nurse looks tired, grumpy, and extremely overworked. "Who knows, darlin'?" she sighs, the affectionate word at the end sounding like it came from years of habit instead of thinking I'm darling. "Couple minutes to hours really."

"Could you have someone sit with him while I'm away?" I know it's a hopeless cause, but I have to ask anyway.

She looks genuinely sorry as she tells me that everyone's too busy to keep a old man company while I'm gone. Then, pager buzzing loudly, she runs down the hall. Other nurses join her as she goes to gather around a patient and begin CPR. I feel nauseous as I realize that the woman they're working on is dying underneath their finger tips. Glancing in to look at the Professor I almost go back to sit with him again, but realize that I can't. I have to bite the bullet and call his children… And then I'll see about getting the Professor a more private room.

I get the daughter's answering machine and leave a lengthy message telling her about her father's accident and the hospital details. Then I call the son. He's following in his father's footsteps and making the world a better place through science. The Professor always had me save any article I found on the son although the man never talked about him. There's a lot of distance between the two that they've never worked out.

The phone number for the son gets me a secretary instead and, for the life of me, I can't make her understand that I need to talk to the son, now.

"Professor Dib is a very busy man," she says in a high pitched drawl that's grating on my nerves. "I can book you an appointment for next August for a five minute conversation though."

I explain again. How I need to talk to the son because his father is in the hospital.

"Professor Dib can not be disturbed."

I give up on actually talking to the son. Instead I try to convince the secretary to give him a note for me. It takes forever, but grudgingly she admits that Professor Dib should probably know about his father's accident and promises to give him the note.

Hanging up, I feel so angry and upset that I throw my cell phone against the wall and let out a shout of disgust. Luckily the phone is Membrane brand so only the screen cracks from my mistreatment.

What's wrong with these people?

The nurses have to sedate the Professor again. He keeps trying to leave. With a broken hip bone and a fever of a hundred and three he keeps getting out of bed and trying to leave. He wants to go back to the lab. Says it's important. Has to go finish the Device. Has to go claim his second chance.

His hand in mine, I try and convince him that everything's going to be alright while I keep an eye on the door. Several hours have passed since I called them. His children should be here any second now.

They never appear.

I call them again.

Four messages on the daughter's answering machine.

Five different secretaries all promising to deliver my message personally to the son.

Why aren't they here yet?

The daughter finally calls me. She's in Japan for G4. Won't be back until Tuesday at the earliest. She called her brother about the emergency so he should be getting in contact with me soon.

One of the son's secretaries calls. I haven't talked to this one before. She tells me that the son is too busy to come, but he's authorized me to act at the Professor's Power of Attorney and to spare no expense.

I throw my cell phone across the room again and this time it snaps in half.

What's wrong with this family?

Only after I take advantage of the son's offer and have the Professor moved to a small private room do the reporters begin to show up. Like vultures they appear and begin circling overhead. On their lips are words like 'tragedy' and 'loss for humanity.' They speak of the Professor like he's already dead. It makes me thankful for the private room. With the blinds tightly shut and the two janitors I hired guarding the door I can almost ignore the noise that slowly grows.

If the Professor hears the noise he doesn't show it. He's delirious again. Muttering speeches to the UN he interrupts himself to rattle off design specs before barking out orders. Sometimes he acts as if he's back in grade school and sometimes he just mutters names.

A nurse comes in occasionally and checks his vitals. There's a permanent frown on her face and whenever she checks the Professor's temperature she sighs and shakes her head. Despite the fact that I've tried to talk to her several times she's largely ignored me unless she has to. When I ask her for something to help the Professor sleep more soundly she looks at me sadly and says; "Boy, we'll kill this man if we give him much more."

The Professor cries in his sleep now too. Begs forgiveness from the phantoms in the room. I don't have the heart to tell the woman that he might be better off dead. Instead, I put headphones on once she leaves the room. I crank up the volume until I can no longer hear him.

I feel sick just looking at him so I close my eyes and wish someone else was in my place.

Sleep must have claimed me for when I open my eyes it's almost three in the morning. The Professor's eyes are open and glassy and staring at me. For a moment my hearts stops. I think he's dead and spent his final moments looking at me, but slowly he blinks and smiles slightly.

"So you're awake." His voice is so soft I almost miss it.

Instantly the headphones are off my ears and I'm at his side touching his hand. His skin burns like fire, like there's something inside of him that's consuming him from the inside out. "Yes sir."

"Simmons… Where are my children?"

I wish he would stop calling me that. Staring into weak watery eyes I can't tell him the truth. "They're on their way, Sir. Should be here any moment."

He smiles and with his free hand pats my head. "You're a good boy, Simmons." The smile slowly fades and he sighs and looks away. "They're not coming, are they?"

"I…… No Sir."

"It's the family curse."

"Sir?"

"The family curse. That no one is ever there when you need them."

The old man looks like he's about to cry and I feel ill. I squeeze his hand tighter. "I'm here, Sir." I say the words like I matter.

He smiles again. "So you are, Simmons, so you are…" He's silent for a long moment and I think he's fallen asleep again before he speaks. "I failed, didn't I?"

I blink, confused. Failed? At what? "I don't understand, Sir."

"The Device, Simmons. I didn't finish it."

"No Sir, you didn't."

The Professor sighs deeply and seems to sink further into the bed. "Too bad. Of all my inventions, that one was the greatest."

I'm confused. I've seen the Device and it doesn't look all that impressive. Just a fancy clock really.

The Professor isn't looking at me anymore. He's gesturing weakly as he murmurs quietly deep in his throat. "I've always wanted to go back," he whispers to the press conference only he can see. "Always wanted to go back. My… My father was never there for me and I… Just to go back once… Just once… Change one thing… Hug… Go…" Eyes slowly sliding shut he muttered; "My poor son. My poor daughter," until he was finally able to sleep.

And then all was quiet and still.

And I rush into the bathroom to be sick.

I'm downstairs getting breakfast when the Professor goes.

A nurse rushes into the room and grabs my arm, dragging me along as my cereal goes everywhere. She never tells me what's the matter, but I can see it in her face and I begin to run.

The press are in a frenzy as I pass them. They must have seen the doctors running into the Professor's room. On their viewscreens already I can hear them pitching headlines to their rapt editors.

They've resuscitated the Professor twice before I got there. Both times he's coded again almost immediately. As I run into the room they bring him back a third time and this time he's stable. A nurse comes in with an angry expression on her face and a stack of paperwork as I reach out and grab the Professor's hand.

"I said he's not to be resuscitated!" the nurse is screaming at the victorious looking doctors that fill the room. "It's in his Living Will!"

"But we can't let Professor Membrane die on our watch!" one of the doctors protest. I recognize the look in his eyes. It's one of pure adoration for the man who's before him. This is another who's grown up on the Professor's shows. "Think of what the press would say!"

"I don't care!" the nurse shrieks and I wince and grab the Professor's hand tighter. I wish they would all go fight somewhere else. No one wants to hear this. "This is his wishes! Now get that machine out of here and go help the people who are going to live!"

We all wince at that. The doctors, heads hung, remove themselves from the room. The nurse waits and watches them all go. An angry expression still on her face, she manages to soften it slightly as she puts a hand on my shoulder. "It won't be long, sir," she says in what she believes to be a gentle voice. "He won't be with us much longer."

"I understand."

She smiles then, squeezes my shoulder slightly. "You're a good son, you know that? Not many would stay with their loved ones like you would."

I'm too horrified to tell her that I'm only the assistant, only nod as she leaves and shuts the door behind her. Looking briefly at the dying man in the bed I almost don't get to the restroom before I'm sick again.

The Professor opens his eyes only once more before he finally dies. "Dib?" he hoarsely whispers.

I throw down the magazine and am there by his side. He looks at me, but his eyes are glassy and it's like he doesn't see I'm here. "He's coming, Sir."

"Gaz?"

"On her way. Just a little bit longer soon and they'll both be here."

Weakly, the Professor shakes his head just once. "No. Simmons…" His voice fails him.

I lean closer. I don't know if I'm going to be sick or start crying. "Just another moment Sir and they'll be running through that door," I lie.

"Tell them… I'm sorry?"

Sickness. I almost run to the bathroom again, but I swallow the bile down. "Yes Sir. I promise Sir."

He squeezes my hand…

…and then he's gone.

I should call a nurse but as I stare down at the dead man I can barely contain the hysterical laugh that threatens to pass my lips. I'm unemployed.

I see the son at the funeral. His face is blank, his eyes ice cold as I tell him his father's final words. "That all?" he asks once I'm done. He turns to go. "It's too late for that."

The illness I've felt all this time turns to anger. My hands clenching into fists I glare at the son. "I liked you better when you where just a boy!" I shout.

The son freezes and then slowly turns around. There's fury in those eyes now and hurt. I know why and I'm not sorry even though he is. "And I liked you better when you weren't pretending to be a human, Zim," he growls.

For a moment we stand there like we were in 6th grade again. Fists clenched. Eyes set. Like before the Irken Empire was destroyed. Like before my life ended in an instant… Before the Professor took me in. I've come to have no regrets from losing that time, I came to respect and admire the Professor as I had my Tallest, but the son misses those days every waking moment. He never could touch me while I was under the Professor's wing, never could end the game, and even now that the Professor is dead I'm still under his protection.

I'm the first to end our staring contest. Crossing my arms I smile at the son, lips pulling back on my perfect human face. "Dib-stink," I say my old nickname for him to remind him of the old days. To hurt him.

"What?" he hisses.

"Where are your children?"

A blank look crosses the son's face and for a moment he looks confused. "I… At home."

"Are you sure?"

"Or at their mother's, I don't know!" The son looks flustered and more then a little angry. "What does that have to do with anything!?"

I sigh deeply and turn to go. "The curse continues…"

I go to the lab where the Professor and I worked. There are already men there boxing up half finished inventions and putting them in trucks. I'm recognized almost instantly by one of the son's minions who tells me I can't be here, but I ignore him and go straight to the Professor's workbench. The Device is there. A time machine. An invention to go and correct all of the Professor's past mistakes.

I smash it to the floor.

The minion squawks at me about 'destruction of private property' and the police and I want nothing more then to grab the man by the shoulders and hit him against the floor until his brains fall out. Instead, I let the hologram fall just long enough for the man to catch a glimpse of green skin and magenta eyes.

That shuts him up.

Stupid bastard.

Gaz comes to my apartment the next day. She's frumpy and pulling a suitcase so I know she's only just back from Japan. Nodding after I tell her about her father's last words she stares at me a long moment before making the offer. "Want a job?"

I consider it a moment. She's a CEO of a major video game company. She could put me into console development… I'd like that. However, I find myself shaking my head as I prop up my feet on my coffee table. "I'm starting up a rival company," I tell her.

Smart girl. Doesn't have to ask who it rivals. "Any reason why?" she asks instead.

"Because I hate humans."

She nods. "I can respect that."

After she leaves I hum as I walk around the apartment before retiring into my bedroom for the night. As always, I gently pat the battered green and white shell of a robot before climbing into bed.

Now if I could only discover how to fix Gir then I could say that I've truly lived without regrets.

Written for John who always gets sick when he feels guilty.

That's right. I told everyone your secret! Now what are you going to do about it, buddy?

Originally, this story had an unnamed male assistant as the narrator but that gave me problems during the funeral scene. I didn't know how a stanger could ask after Dib's children (and realize the curse was still going) without it seeming too weird. After complaining at length to a friend (It's all your fault, John) I was told to shut up and make the speaker Zim. This seemed brillant to me and while it made me cut out a paragraph of the speaker talking about watching Membran'es show while he grew up, the rest fit with only a little tweaking.

I feel bad for Dib in this one though. I made him grow up bitter and the same way his father was.

Oh! And a cookie for all those that got the chapter description reference! (The italics right under the theme number and tile, like the second line on the page)

Next update will be my two Christmas stories, but that'll be next week probably. I have an exam tomorrow and Thursday then a hard one on Monday and an impossible to study for one next Thursday. However, expect the chapter next Tuesday or Wednesday as those days are completely open.