It was the same dream Zim had every night. Nearly the same.

The alien bit back his scream of terror, trying not to flail against the unseen, but impossibly strong, binds that held him to the table. It wasn't real. It wasn't really happening. Time keeping swaying-things did not become huge, deadly-sharp instruments of torture. Needless to say the pendulum did look very like a blade, even in sunlight –this was its dark dwelling hole, where it could, and would, exert its full horrible power on a poor, vulnerable defect.

Zim is NOT vulnerable!

All defects are vulnerable, little smeet. All defects must be eliminated.

No! It was all in his mind. His mind… seemed to want him dead. Now that was a sad thought, and one Zim refused altogether to acknowledge even as he watched the cutting edge flash by, this time mere feet from his torso. Cutting edge? The alien almost smiled at the irony of that thought. Here he knew that Irken technology was by far the cutting-edge of the Irken-known universe (the race made doubly sure it wasn't to be outdone), and here he was staring death in the face – in the form of a primitive earth instrument.

A worthy end of an unworthy soldier.

SHUT UP!

The first twinge of fear was felt when the blade nipped his skin. It's not real. It's not real. Then why could he, clear as day, see the green blood welling on his skin? Why could he taste its tang on the air when the pendulum passed again? Bile built up in his throat; and his squeedlyspooch gave an awful little lurch. Zim swallowed thickly. Traditionally, it was Irken taboo to feel sickness at the stench of blood. It showed weakness. But he couldn't stop it. Fear. Every night he tried to stop the coiling black monster eating away at his squeedlyspooch, and every night it got just a little closer to consuming the little spirit he'd managed to cling to. Each night he would try to bite his tongue and scorn imminent demise, and each night he felt his will weaken a little further. One more time was too much, and he shut his eyes, preparing to take what was coming to him.

Before Zim could let the shriek of terror escape, he suddenly felt… warmth. It wasn't the chill of the blade and the warmth his own blood, but something else. He dared open his eyes. Gold. That was all. No blackness of death, no despair. A warm hand was in his own, and it wasn't wet with blood.

Don't be afraid.

"I'm…I'm not." Zim didn't order his tongue to speak, but the soft words slipped out. The warmth of the hand and the golden gaze lulling him mysteriously, the alien felt himself slipping away…

Zim grunted and rolled over.

It wasn't morning yet, he could tell that much. Nothing was to be gained by opening his eyes, so he lay as still as possible in the dark, not too keen on either going back into the horrible sleep-world or waking up fully and facing life. His squeedlyspooch ached dully, and he curled up with a moan. It wasn't hunger this time. It was the strange empty feeling he got every time he thought about where he was now. Not on Irk. Not in the wondrous (inferior) panorama of space. In a derelict earth structure, unwanted and alone. Leaderless.

A thought of golden eyes danced through his mind. Stupid human. Stupid Dib, thinking he could ignore Zim like this. He knew where his nemesis lived, didn't he? So why wasn't he fighting Zim?

Am I worthless even to the Dib now?

After all we endured?

After I saved his miserable life?

Such thoughts served to make his belly hurt more, so the best course of action seemed to be relaxing and trying… very hard… to not think.

Little sounds began to filter their way into his sensitive feelers; the kind of sounds one only hears when half asleep in the still part of the morning. Birds were waking on the next block, ruffling and extending their feathers. The city's nighttime wraiths; dextrous possums, cunning rats, retreated stealthily before the promise of harsh sunlight and the stirring of huge lumbering daytime beasts. Smelly, overdressed humans scuttled off to their lumbering vehicles; he could hear a worm-baby mewling inside a house, and the grouchy huff of its tired parental unit. They all sounded so calm; not at all concerned about the concept of impending demise. The Irken just couldn't comprehend such blissful ignorance! Weren't they even a little scared?

He could hear deeper as well. Around dawn he would pull his antennae in, repulsed by the sizzling of dew being destroyed by the sun. It wasn't dawn yet, though, and the wheat field was silent. The night creatures had retreated. Deep underground was a muffled rushing. Ugh, water! The water pipe that ran directly underneath the city was the last thing he felt like listening to. The rushing noise of deadly earth acid brought back some very unpleasant memories to the Irken's mind. About to flatten his antennae and hopefully block it out, a slight deviation in the movement of the ground had his full attention back. Something was rumbling as it pushed downward through the thick mud, and Zim's interest perked a little before a soft scaping noise, followed by a crack, made his antennae shoot up in horror. The rushing noise was suddenly more pronounced, and definitely travelling upward.

The alien gasped, standing bolt upright in a second as he swivelled the two black feelers, hoping to detect the path the rushing sound was following. A cold feeling sunk into his chest, then his belly, and his legs suddenly began to shake.

There had to be a mistake. He craned his neck, testing once more for sound.

It couldn't be.

The sky slowly faded to a cold, unforgiving grey as a small, lithe figure slipped for the first time out of his three-year home. It was a matter of safety.

A/N: This chapter makes me angry. I started it on Thursday, and didn't finish till Saturday. It was really hard to write for some reason, and not just because of constant distractions. I went back and made some changes, but I'm still not proud of it.
I had take serious emergency actions so I could work on this chapter in peace.
I think the plot's moving too fast...

Enjoy anyway. Today I'll probably get to work on the next chapter (once I have accomplished my first task, which is to get a new set of colour pencils. I even dreamed about them last night), which I think you may find a little interesting.