Author's Note: "Forward" can be seen as a continuation of "The Eleventh Hour".

The Eleventh Hour

The boy sighed listlessly, the first sound made inside the room in a while. Outside in the hall it was a different story. Feet pounding on the floor, gurney wheels squeaking; everyone was in a hurry. Constantly this ward was receiving new patients in urgent need of care. Dib monotonously fiddled with his hospital wristband and studied the ceiling. He wished he had something to do as he lay in bed; something to take his mind off…off of the cause of that occasional "boom" off in the distance outside…off of the reason the hospital was starting to become crowded…off of the cataclysmic event he wished he was able to take part in…

There was nothing to do in the room but sleep. There was a TV, yes, but there was literally nothing on. The TV stations had stopped broadcasting. All of them.

Dib wished someone was available to talk to, but everyone was understandably busy. He glanced over at his roommate, who was busy in his own way, getting some needed bed rest. He looked so peaceful as he slept. Dib had not been able to have a peaceful sleep since this catastrophe began. Especially knowing that while it was taking place not so far away, he was stuck here, waiting, fearing, hoping, and praying.

Another boom startled him; his roommate shifted slightly in his sleep.

Dib stared on the wall at the orifice that had recently had steel plates welded over it as a safety precaution against breaking. Part of him wished he could have a window. Part of him wanted to see how things were going outside; how his people were faring without him. But part of him was scared to know. He ached to be out there with them, fighting for all mankind, perhaps even as a leader or strategist. It tore at him that he was confined here, unable to take part in the battle he had always felt he was meant to lead, and that hurt much, much worse than his several broken bones.

The darkest days had come, Earth's ultimate trial, and on the very first day, when only the first few ships had arrived, Dib had been so suddenly attacked and rendered unable to continue fighting.

He remembered that on the night he was checked into the hospital, he had received a very unexpected visitor.

"You've done much more than your part already," Gaz had mumbled. The entire time she never looked up to meet his eyes, but he could see the terror in her eyes. She had never considered the invasion real until now.

True, he had done so much more than what could be expected of a ten-year-old child, but he still wished he could do more. He could not stand just lying in bed…waiting…

He was jerked out of his thoughts by a knock at the door. It opened and a nurse poked his head inside.

"A visitor, Mister Dib," he said hurriedly. Dib nodded and the nurse rushed off on his way, with many other duties to attend to.

In stepped his visitor. Dib's father wore the same white lab coat and blue goggles as always, which gave Dib a comforting sense of normalcy.

"Nice to see you, son," Professor Membrane approached the boy's bedside.

"Dad," the boy smiled, and was patted gently on the head.

"How are you feeling?" the man asked.

"Better," his son said in a hollow voice. "How are things out there?"

Membrane paused and sighed softly. "Things…are not quite looking up yet, but we're hanging in there."

"Gaz?"

"She's doing fine. Makes quite the fighter pilot."

Dib smiled halfway and turned his gaze downwards.

"I know you wanted to help," Membrane said sympathetically. His son nodded wordlessly, and the two shared a moment of silent companionship.

"Minnow to Catfish," a voice intoned from Membrane's communicator, "you're needed Upstream, over."

The professor breathed heavily and held down a button on the device. "Catfish to Minnow, I'm on my way, over." Releasing the button, he turned to Dib, disheartened.

"Guess I have to be going," Membrane waved and headed to the door. Pausing, he glanced back. "I'm sorry I never listened."

As his father left, Dib felt a hot pressure behind his eyes. Many of the Armada had come and now everyone believed him…and he couldn't be there to lead the human race to victory.

He turned and buried his face in his pillow. The Armageddon was happening outside, and Dib could only pass the time.

Forward

The explosions sounded. The battle cries and cries of terror rang out. The sky darkened with the approaching ships and missile fire. Battle. Oh how Zim had missed it.

The proud Irken stepped up onto an overlooking peak and surveyed the opposing forces below. The most pitiful forces, as he would have anyone think.

The time had come. The invasion of Earth had begun.

Only a few weeks before, he had contacted the Tallest with a request for a few troops to assist him in conquering Earth. He had inadvertently interrupted an interplanetary conference with several dignitary powers from across the galaxy, but to Zim's delight, the Tallest granted his request (he ignored the "Hopefully that will shut you up for a while.")

The invader now raised his arms to the sky, and his signature evil laughter rang out.

"Sir, the troops are in position," his sub-commander reported. "We are awaiting your commands."

"Excellent," Zim grinned. "The time is upon us. On my mark, soldier; I want to savor this moment."

And savor it he did. His eyes swept across the land, across the approaching human militia; much like the Armada's cannon would soon sweep across them. 'And I will finally be rid of them,' he thought, stifling a nearly uncontrollable cackle. 'Rid of those filthy worm-babies at skool; rid of those filthy scientists who would jump on the chance to dissect Zim if he were discovered; rid of—"

"Yehhhsss," he grinned eagerly. "I will finally be rid of…the Dib."

He took to scanning the area again, only this time he attempted to zero in on his archenemy. Even with his superior invader optical implants, though, he couldn't seem to locate the Dib. He squinted at the front lines, expecting his arch nemesis to be leading them, but he saw no sign of that familiar black hair scythe. Perhaps it was under a helmet? Zim yanked away the nearest Irken scout's binoculars and looked through them. Still no Dib. Anywhere.

"What? Where?" He lowered the binoculars, a hint of concern crossing his face. Where could he be? Perhaps he was hiding, lying in wait to ambush…no, that didn't quite sound like Dib. He would be at the front, leading his beloved human race in the war. So why wasn't he there?

'Is he…injured?' Zim wondered, '…dead?'

"Your orders, sir?" his sub-commander requested, seeing that the commander seemed to be finished relishing the moment.

"Mustn't worry about him," the invader told himself. "The invasion must proceed. And without the Dib…mankind is doomed."

He turned to his sub-commander and opened his mouth slightly, beginning to speak. But he closed his mouth gently and slowly turned away.

'What are you waiting for? Give the order!' his mind yelled excitedly. 'They're helpless! Time…for…doom!'

But…without Dib? That had been his mission all along—conquer Earth, destroy the humans; the absence already of one of them should not make the slightest difference. Yet…over the few years he had been on this planet, his mission had become much more…In some ways, his mission had become focused on—

A pit formed in Zim's squeedily-spooch. It would not be the same.

"Your orders…sir?"

Zim took a deep breath, and, not taking his eyes off the humans, gave his orders.

"Call it off."

The sub-commander paused. "Sorry, sir?"

"Call. It. Off." The commander turned to him. "Cancel the invasion. Tell the ships to depart."

"Sir, we can't—"

"You have your orders, soldier!" Zim raised his voice. "Now do it! We're going home!"

His subordinate looked at him, bewildered. "What will we tell the Tallest?"

"You will tell them that circumstances have interfered." Zim again eyed the humans below. "Now go."

The sub-commander hesitantly spoke into his communicator. "Attention all troops. The invasion of Earth is hereby cancelled. All troops pull out, over."

Zim took out his own communicator. "Gir, bring the Voot Runner around. We're leaving."

The subordinate stared at Zim before boarding his own ship. "I'm surprised at you, Invader Zim. I really am."

Zim said nothing, but crossed his arms and buried his shaking hands under them. He knew the risks he was taking with this sudden move, and the great losses he was accepting.

'Not only am I not conquering this ball of dirt, and sparing it instead,' he thought, remembering the Planet Jackers, 'but I also saved it once before.'

But as the Voot Runner halted to a hover near him, something deep within him told him he was doing the right thing.

He took one more glance at Earth before climbing aboard and flying away. "Don't say that I never did anything for you, Dib-stink."