WHEN THE WORLD ENDS
Chapter Two: Gaz -Contrition-
You wouldn't even recognize me anymore
Not that you knew me back then
But it all comes back to me in the end
I kept everything inside
And even though I tried
It all fell apart
What it meant to me will eventually be a
Memory of a time when I tried so hard-
-'In the End', Linkin Park-
Fear is feeling your sanity slipping away, little by little, and being unable to stop it.
Fear is suddenly discovering that your passion, the one thing that drives you, makes you live, adapt, grow...is gone.
Fear is knowing the uncertainty of one's own mortality, a healthy fear which all must face eventually. I know what it is to contemplate death. When a man tells you he doesn't fear death he's lying, or he's a fool.
Of all the fears in the world, only a few are valid. Only a few are possible enough to frighten. Only a few are real enough to cause that utter terror, the kind that gnaws its way into the soul and puts its vicelike hold on both thoughts and deeds. Everyone believes all their petty concerns are worth worrying about. That whether or not they can afford luxury has some bearing on their lives. That it is necessary for people, even people they hate, to love them or respect them, or fear them. They focus on things without meaning, so they won't have to see what is really crucial, what can truly horrify. These people don't know fear.
I know fear. I was painfully familiar with my particular fear. I didn't acknowledge it, but I was aware of it, the possibility that the ones I loved would be taken from me, and there would be nothing I could do to save them.
My worst fear was that simply because I knew just how close it was. It was close enough to come true.
I don't know how I knew that something was wrong. Dib had been gone all day, had shouted something about an errand before disappearing out the front door into an overcast morning. Nothing suspicious there. For months Dib had been spending most of his time out of the house. After much discussion on the matter Zim and I decided the idiot must've found himself a girlfriend or some other such nonsense. Our teasing was merciless, but we both let him know, in our own ways, that we were happy for him.
But that day it hit me, without warning or reason. The certainty that nothing was right, that Dib's behavior was off and the cause was anything but innocent. There were no clues to find, no actions or words that should've given him away, but every instinct I had was suddenly blazing.
By the time I flung open the door and ran outside, a slightly cloudy day had become a storm-wracked night. I didn't bother to turn back for my coat and umbrella, they wouldn't have kept me any drier in such a downpour. Storms had always brought me more comfort than I thought possible, but this one aided me in a different way. The cold pushed me onward, heightened my senses and put my reflexes on edge, while the rain's constant touch dulled the sudden surge of fear until I could ignore it.
The few minutes run stretched on interminably, like one of those oh-so-frustrating dreams, where you're chasing after something that gets farther away with every step. I wasn't even halfway to his house when I heard the voices, ringing through the air, echoing off the walls of the alley ahead, muffled by distance. I'm surprised they carried at all through the blanketing rain. They must've been yelling really loudly.
I turned down the alley, but froze at the end, hidden in the shadow of the buildings, when a figure came into view. Though he waited under an intermittently flickering streetlamp, he was little more than darkness. His trenchcoat seemed to absorb the dim light, as did his clothes; dark pants, dark shirt, dark boots. His pale face glowed in stark contrast, split down the middle by a thick ebony strand weighted down with water. His head was bowed. I couldn't see his eyes.
He didn't see me, and I stayed where I was. From there I could hear the cries more clearly. They weren't as close as I'd first thought, but they were getting closer, along with the sound of footsteps, boots clicking on the pavement, rapid fire. Another figure burst onto the scene, one much smaller. He ran until he spotted Dib, almost managed to make it to the circle of light before giving in to exhaustion.
Panting, he crouched down, ready to jump back up when the voices got too close. His breathing was painful to listen to. A thin tendril of steam curled up from under his black wig. Bathing in a paste mixture was enough to protect his skin from the touch of water, but it could and did wear off. Zim couldn't stay out much longer.
Once he'd caught his breath, he forced himself to his feet again and walked over to Dib, a slight limp in his step. "Dib, they found me. I don't know how...GIR's keeping them busy..." he glanced over his shoulder as the voices grew louder, then walked past Dib, mumbling curses and vague threats. When he realized Dib didn't follow, Zim paused and looked back, tilted his head, for all the world resembling some puppy dog confused by it's master's behavior.
"Coming?" The question was quick, clipped, irritated but underlaid with fear. Zim's eyes darted down the street as the voices grew louder. He shifted his weight, looked ready to run, Dib or no Dib. Then, my brother looked up. He faced Zim, so I couldn't see his eyes. I guess I should be glad for that. Whatever Zim saw there made him nervous. He nodded, took a deep breath before turning his back to Dib and continuing down the road, towards our house.
Did I say that night was like a dream? It wasn't. It was my nightmare. And just like a nightmare I couldn't do a damn thing as Dib followed Zim, as he pulled the long metal rod from under his trenchcoat... Zim hadn't gone five steps when Dib jabbed the tazer into his back, right between his shoulders.
Zim's body stiffened abruptly, his back arching for a painful moment, his mouth open in a soundless cry, before he fell to his hands and knees in the street. His wig slipped off his head, exposing two frail antennae. He looked so strange as he stared up at Dib, his human eyes and alien features in unnatural contrast, as if at war with each other. But his gaze held an agonized question. I wish I knew if whatever he saw on Dib's face gave him the answer.
Dib stuck the tazer in his side, and Zim's harsh cry rang out, then died as he sank to the wet ground. The rain began to pound down even harder, and for minutes I couldn't move, couldn't think.
The quiet was broken by the whine and rumble of an engine. GIR shot onto the scene, his jets keeping him ahead of and above the group of soldiers pursuing him, far behind. At first GIR was giggling, no doubt seeing it as a game. The streetlight reflected off gleaming metal as he flew up to Dib and tried to wrap his short arms around him. But his laughter ceased as he caught sight of the still form lying in a puddle. He dropped to the ground next to Zim, poked his shoulder gently.
"Master?" GIR nudged him, more forceful, and when he got no response, started to shake him. "Master?! Master, what's wrong?" His voice became even more high-pitched, panicky, and moisture that wasn't rain dripped from his cyan eyes. He finally leapt to his feet and turned a furious gaze on Dib. That emotion, coming from him, was so wrong.
"What's wrong with Master?" He pointed an accusing finger at Dib. The soldiers chose that moment to show up. They circled the scene and aimed their weapons at GIR, who didn't seem to notice. "What did you do to Master?" His voice broke and changed pitch on the last word, dropping, and his eyes flashed red. Even with the reasoning capacity of an infant he knew who was to blame. All of a sudden dozens of guns and lasers were sticking out of his head, all trained on Dib. "I won't let you hurt Master."
GIR didn't even see the soldier toss a small silver rectangle at his back. A magnetic click sounded as it made contact and six metal arms wrapped around his tiny frame. A strong surge of electricity and he fell, landing on his back beside Zim, eyes black.
The soldiers moved in, quick and efficient, lifted Zim's limp form and called for a clean-up crew to remove any evidence. Dib, who hadn't moved since GIR showed up, bent over and picked the little robot up. Then he turned and looked me straight in the eye. I ran down the alley and didn't look back.
There was nothing I could do. And if I kept telling myself that, I might've believed it. So, I didn't.
The news is filled with the invasion. I sit on my couch, only half aware of the images flashing by on the TV screen. With 24 hour coverage on every channel, replays have taken over. They're not getting any new footage, so they continue to run the same thing over and over. By now every image is ingrained in my mind. The shots of Zim's old satellite, now charred and blasted. The ships, gleaming magenta in the last rays of sunlight; they all carry the same symbols that were scattered about Zim's lab, the Irken face, stylised in either black silhouette or color. And then there's the footage of Zim.
Dib must be furious, knowing that someone managed to sneak that out of the lab. It's only a short, grainy clip, taken from the security cameras. The first time it aired it was longer, the full clip. I still don't know how they managed to sneak that past their censors or whoever deals with that sort of thing. Now it just shows Zim being dragged into a stark white room, kicking and screaming all the way. He's strapped down to a metal table in the center, then Dib enters, flanked by two others in white labcoats and goggles. It ends with Dib about to pierce his green skin with a scalpel.
Since that's the only footage anyone has of an Irken, it's been getting a lot of play. A whole lot. Someone made a hell of a lot of money off it, I'm sure. Did I mention that I hate the press?
Squeaking noises intrude on my TV-induced trance. GIR walks in the door, munching on a cupcake, the usual goofy grin on his face. He hops up on the couch with me and gives me a kiss, smearing chocolate all over my cheek, then cuddles up next to me. "What'cha watching?"
"Nothing important." I grab the remote and turn off the television. That footage is the last thing he needs to see.
When I convinced Dib to give GIR to me, I never expected to be able to fix him, but I had to at least try. I owed Zim that much. But it turned out I didn't have to. When I got him home I sat him down on my bed and went to set up dad's lab. I came back to his high pitched giggling. He'd found a flashlight somewhere, and was hiding under the blankets making shadow puppets. Apparently he was 'faking' being broken. The scientists scared him so he put himself in some kind of suspend mode. I still don't know what woke him up.
He seems to have decided I'm his replacement 'master'. I'd like to think he loves me, in his child-like way, but I know it's not the same devotion he has for Zim. He's changed since his master was captured. He's still mindlessly happy, usually, living in the bliss of the totally innocent. His hyperactive spells aren't as frequent or as long as they used to be. I remember how much Zim complained about GIR's insane behavior, though I know that deep down he loved it.
Now GIR is quieter...quiet for GIR, anyway. He hasn't broken anything in the lab yet, and he refrains from running on the walls, or screaming like he used to. It's a good thing, cause I don't know that this house could take it as well as Zim's did. Though it's not the same as before...but then nothing ever will be, no matter how much we want it to.
GIR's more sensitive now, too. Especially to touch. When he's around me there's always got to be some contact. Most of the time he'll just snuggle close, like he's doing now, and he's taken to sleeping on my feet at night. With the very few visitors I've had over, he's been shy, almost frightened, and yet he'll cuddle up to Dib just as readily as he will with me. When I ask him about that night, he doesn't seem to remember anything other than Zim being gone, taken. He doesn't remember Dib's role in it, and since Dib was a friend before, GIR still sees him as one.
Turning off the news seems to have averted another one of his bouts of melancholy. That's the most marked change in his personality, the short periods of silence where I know he's thinking about Zim. They were coming less often, until that last time Dib showed up on my doorstep.
GIR happens to glance out the window and spots the pinpoint glow of fireflies in the dark. He jumps to the floor and bounces with excitement. "Lighty bugs!" He's halfway to the front door before he remembers I'm here. "Can I go play with the buggies? Please, Master!"
The smile on his face forces me to grin. "Put your disguise on first."
"Yay!" He's dressed and out the door in less than thirty seconds. I consider playing a video game, but settle on the news instead. With GIR gone, my mood has soured again, and I don't want to tarnish a good game with this kind of attitude.
They're now showing something new, or at least something they haven't shown since this coverage started; the protesters outside of the lab, waving picket signs. I couldn't stand to be around them any more than I could stand to be around those scientists, or the people crying for the aliens' blood in the streets. Sure the protesters are doing their charitable best to free Zim. But they're all working for their own reasons, guarding their own interests. To them he's not a person. He's a dumb animal, just the latest in a line of exotic abnormalities.
They could never have done him any good. Even before the aliens, they didn't have a chance at helping him. Any progress they might've made was impeded by endless red tape, strengthened by simple human fear. Dib probably finds the whole thing laughable.
I still wonder why. Why he did what he did. In the end, I don't think it was even about humanity. At least, not in the way he thought. It wasn't about him trying to save the world, it was about the way the world treated him. All his life he was looked at as a freak, shunned like an outsider. Perhaps he just wanted to be proven right, to have their praise for once, instead of their contempt. The contempt of the contemptuous. He did it for vindication.
Zim is the victim in this hell, but, I think, so is Dib. I'm the only one who's accountable. I left him to my brother, turned my back on the only friendship I've ever known. War is here, and there's two ways out for Zim. One is death, and the other...
Time to pack.
Disclaimer: All images and characters used and abused within belong to their individual exalted creators, and are reprinted here without permission. Please don't sue me. I'm poor. All scans were created by me, except where otherwise noted. Please ask if you want to use them. The basement is getting kinda full, I don't want to have to put any more thieves down there. All fanart used within belongs to the individual artists, who kick far more arse than you do so don't try anything funny. Much thanks goes to gir.n3.net, from whence most of the Invader Zim pics used in the layout came.
Layout and its elements are copyright (c) Tif T. Ask if you want to use them, though I don't know why you would. They're only special if you're an HTML-challenged person like myself.