Chapter Text
Zim wanted to go home.
Earth was an ever-confusing, and filthy, and stupid planet, and he was growing tired of dealing with its exhausting routine: from paste-bathing, to trying to adapt to the horrible human ways, to spending day after day getting nowhere closer to doing his job. All he wanted was to please the Tallest, but he was finding their assignment more and more impossible by the day. Worse yet, he couldn’t get in touch with them. It had been a while since a transmission to them didn’t connect him to a taunting screen of static, and he was starting to get worried. He’d just fly himself home, but there had been an unfortunate accident involving the Voot, some tacos, and a couple of rubber piggies. That’s why he needed to contact the Tallest so badly: the past… many crashes have rendered him fresh out of parts. And it’s not just the Tallest either; he’s tried mail orders, infomercial planets, and even Prisoner 777, every workaround he can think of, but it’s like nothing will go through. He’s tried to fix the computer, he tried to get Gir to fix the computer (which was not a good idea), he tried to get the computer to fix the computer, but all to no avail. There’s something blocking his signal. He keeps telling himself that the silence may be a good thing, an opportunity to focus on his mission, but it’s such an incredibly loud silence it’s hardly fit to think in. It felt like in was surrounding him, closing him in on Earth. And though he would never admit it, it was beginning to feel like something Zim hated: something prickling at his skin, trying to chew him alive from the inside.
He was starting to feel pretty lonely.
—
Zim’s days had lost any semblance of routine. Skool was out for summer break again, and the heat was unbearable, so he stayed in the house. He’d spend a couple of hours trying to get a transmission through, a couple on the couch with Gir watching some terrible human programming, and dedicate some to trying to fix the Voot, with the rest often left to simply staring at the wall, as if it would give him some kind of answer, some kind of fix. The Voot was a lost cause, and he knew it, he had known it since he crashed it, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying to jumpstart his only hope for getting away from Earth. With every long, monotonous turn this planet made, he was getting more and more desperate; though he had been thrilled the summer had kept the Dib human away from him, he was almost at a point where he wanted to ask him for help. As sick as the very idea made him, there was no one else he knew with the technology to help him break through, at least not anyone he could currently get in touch with. Even just contacting Dib would be asking for trouble; begging for his help would be worse. But after sitting through yet another three hours of the Angry Monkey Show, he was beginning to think he had no choice.
He left Gir at home and braved the heat to get the human’s house, all the way telling himself this was a bad idea, until he was finally standing at the door.
The time that Zim had found himself here before was one time too many. Yet here he was again, a shaking hand held up against the wood grain but too afraid to knock. The last thing an invader should do is show weakness, and here he is showing his belly like some kind of cowardly pig-beast. He tells himself that what he’s doing is hard, he’s overcoming a challenge that will help him get closer to his goal, that if the human complies he’ll be one step closer to a comfortable life on Irk. With that thought, he gives the door a confident three knocks and waits.
The door is answered by… not Dib, but his smaller, purple-headed sibling. She scowls something menacing as she cracks the door open.
“What do you want?” she snarls, voice low and threatening. “I’m almost to the final level of Piggy Slayer 2, and you interrupted me. This better be good.” She cracks her knuckles, and Zim swallows before coming to his senses. He’s not afraid of this child, why should he let her frighten him?
“Tiny purple human,” he says, standing on his toes because he’s not much taller than her, “I come asking for assistance, something I must make clear that Zim does not do often!” He says this part loudly for emphasis. She winces.
“Yeah, yeah.” She says, rubbing a finger in her ear before returning to squint at him, her gaze almost freezing him in place. “You want Dib?”
Zim falls back onto the balls of his feet. “Well, I don’t want him, but if you could get him, that would be nice. Is he here?” He tries to peek in through the crack, but she narrows it more, not sparing his head in the process. He yelps in pain and she snorts, turning around to look in the house.
“Yeah, I think he’s in the garage working on his stupid—“
“ZIM!”
Dib emerges from nowhere, edge and animosity following the rather hilarious crack in his voice. He nearly knocks his sister to the ground, and she seems furious for a moment, raising a fist, before rolling her eyes and heading back in the house with a “don’t bother me again”.
Dib stands his ground in the doorway. Much to Zim’s distaste, the human has been growing; he now stands at least a solid four inches above Zim, and is beginning to have to look down to talk to him. It’s extremely insulting.
“I thought I heard your voice. I’d know that overconfident squeal anywhere.”
Zim narrows his eyes, but says nothing. He doesn’t have time to argue with a child, but from the fire in his eyes and past experience, Dib is not done with his babbling rant.
“I thought I told you to never show your ugly face here again!”
That manages to take Zim aback. He turns his head slightly to the side, eyes gleaming accusingly, if not with a little amusement. “You never told me that.”
Dib is stunned, his obviously orchestrated verbal attack flipped on its head. “Well...it was implied!” He snaps back, folding his arms across his chest. “What are you doing here anyway?” He makes a big show of staring down at Zim, who scowls in frustration.
“I could ask you the same thing!” he shouts, jabbing a finger into Dib’s condescendingly cocked and giant head. Dib stares blankly at him as his arms fall to his sides.
“This is my house…”
Zim glares at him. “Look, human. I wouldn’t be sitting on your filthy doorstep if I didn’t need something, and as much as I regret to inform you what I need is your help.” He chokes the words out as quickly as possible, and tries to ignore the evil smile that crosses Dib’s face when he’s done. “Well?” Zim throws his arms up, waiting for a response.
“Well what, Zim?”
“Don’t make me wipe that smirk off your face.” He balls his fists. “I am humbling myself by stooping to your inferior human level, and I demand you to honor my request!”
“So humble,” says Dib, rolling his eyes. “Give me one reason I should help you.”
“Because I’ll melt your brains through your nose if you don’t!”
“Uh-huh, yeah, empty threats are definitely helping your sad little cause.” Dib leans against the doorway, his face twisted with morbid satisfaction.
“They’re not empty!!” Zim is furious now. He has half a mind to knock the human unconscious on the spot.
“Think you’re gonna have to make a taller order there, space boy.”
That’s it. Zim grabs him by the shirt collar and yanks him down to his level.
“ Listen , dirt boy,” Zim snarls. Dib gulps. “This may be your only opportunity to get rid of me, so I suggest you take advantage of it.” He’s pleased when he sees fear has overtaken his greasy monkey features.
Temptation flickers in Dib’s eyes, but once he blinks they’re cold again. “I can’t get rid of you,” he says, pulling himself away and dusting his jacket off. “You’re—“
“ Dib ,” says Gaz suddenly, as Dib is pulled backwards into the house with a yelp. “If you don’t shut the door I’m going to tell Dad about what you’re hiding in the—“
Dib clamps a hand over her mouth and her face somehow gets angrier. “No, you uh… don’t have to tell Dad that.” Gaz stomps off and Dib opens the door wide. “Fine. You have no weapons?”
Zim holds his hands out at his side. He’s completely empty-handed.
“Nothing in your boots, or—“
“Can you just let me in?” Zim snaps. “Your sun is killing me.”
He raises his arm up to let Zim walk under. “My sun,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “Okay, you’re in. Now what exactly is it that you want?”
“I’d like you to help me get off of the planet.” He tries to keep the begging out of his voice. “I’ve exhausted all of my options and require your assistance to contact my leaders.”
“Again—why should I help you?” Dib laughs in disbelief, probably. “You’ve done nothing but screw me over since you got here, not to mention the fact that you’ve been trying to take over the planet! How do I know you’re not just summoning them to come blow me up or something?”
Zim scoffs. Do humans understand nothing of galactic conquest? “Because that would be a waste! Earth may be a disgusting dirt ball, but I won’t deny it’s a planet of plentiful resources. Perfect for an parking lot.”
“A parking lot?! You want me to have my planet made into a parking lot?!”
“It’s up to the Tallest what they would do with it.”
“And that’s exactly why I won’t help you!” Dib’s voice cracks again as he pulls at his hair. “It’s just another one of your stupid schemes!”
Zim sighs and rubs his temple. “You’re misunderstanding,” he says wearily. “Earth isn’t a priority for them. All you’d be doing is getting me in touch with them.”
“And why exactly can’t you do that yourself?” Dib opens his fridge and pulls out a soda. “Can I get you anything? You want some water?”
“ Enough .” He can’t remember if the Dib was always this annoying, or if their time apart had finally given Zim peace of mind, but it’s driving him crazy. “For your information, all of my outgoing signals seem to be blocked.”
Dib raises his eyebrows. “That’s good news.”
“Not if you want me off this stinking planet!”
“Oh yeah, that’s what I was saying,” he says, taking a sip of his drink before laying it on the counter. “Why should I get rid of you? Exposing you is my one shot at being proved… you know, not crazy.” He leans next to it, fixing Zim with that same stupid confused look from earlier. “With you gone, I’d be right back to hoping some other supernatural creature stumbles right into my grasp like you did. Not taking that chance.”
“As if you’ve had any success with that,” Zim says loftily, climbing into a bar stool so he at least feels taller than the human. “If anything I’ve just made you look even more like a fool.”
“As if you’ve had any success with taking over Earth!”
“Don’t you get it?” Zim slams his hands down on the bar, rattling it enough to where Dib has to save his can from spilling. “That’s why I want to leave!”
Dib leans onto the counter. “So… what? That’s it? You’re just giving up?”
“It’s not giving up,” Zim snaps, crossing his arms. “It’s a... tactical retreat.” His scowl deepens when Dib laughs, a disgusting guttural sound he did not miss.
“I like that, you just keep on telling yourself that,” he says, smiling behind his soda can. It’s too much.
Zim stands up again and knocks it out of his hand. It falls to the ground with a harsh metallic rattle, and the soda hisses as it hits the floor and nearby wall.
“What the hell—“
Zim leans into his face, and finds him looking afraid again. That’s better.
“Zim tires of arguing with you. You’re going to do what I want.” He jabs Dib in the chest with each point he makes, and revels in seeing him tremble and wince. “You’re going to come to my base and help me stage an emergency call with the Tallest. And then, guess what? You’re never going to have to see me again! Isn’t that what you what?” He steps back, fists tight at his sides. Dib rubs at his forehead.
“No, not—“
“Hush.” He hops out of the bar stool. “We’re leaving now.”
“Now?”
“Yes. We’re just going to need some things from your lab.”
“Ugh. You spit on me, you know.”
—
The walk back to the base is awkward. He made Dib carry all the supplies, and has to listen to him grumble to himself all the way there.
“I don’t get it,” Dib says, looking at Zim over his armful of specially selected lab equipment. “You can’t leave why? ”
“My ship is broken.”
“Again? Haven’t you broken that thing like four ti—“
“We’re here.” Zim cuts him off as they arrive at his house, thankful he won’t have to listen to Dib for much longer.
They enter the house. Dib tries to stop and look around and Zim has to push him to keep him moving. Gir waves at them from the couch.
“This doesn’t look normal, you know,” he says. “Like, at all.”
“Well it won’t be here for much longer, so it doesn’t matter.” Zim opens the lid to the trash can that leads his base. “Get in.”
Somehow the silence in the elevator is even more awkward than the walk there; Zim has to stop himself from standing on his toes so he doesn’t feel so small. It’s thrust in his face more violently than ever how short he is; watching the children at skool grow ever taller than him has been like a painful, stretched out flashback to the Elite Academy. Especially Dib. He’s too stupid to be so tall.
“Zim?”
The human’s words break his thoughts, and he’s almost grateful. “What?”
“What are you doing?” He snorts.
Zim is suddenly very aware of the fact that he is standing on his toes. He drops his feet back to the ground. “Nothing.”
“Are you really that self conscious about your height?” He’s holding back laughter, something Zim finds incredibly insulting. “It’s that important to you?”
“For your information ,” Zim hisses, not looking at him, “the Irken hierarchy is based on height.”
“Would you feel better if I like, squatted down or— ow! ” Dib yelps as Zim kicks him in the shin.
The elevator door opens and Zim steps into his lab, instructing Dib to place the stuff down on a table. “So, Dib. Here’s what we’re going to do.”
—
Zim shifts uncomfortably, his arms and legs now having been strapped down. “When I call them, act like you’ve actually captured me. Pretend to enact all your… freaky dissection fantasies.” He weakly waves a hand but stops when the restraints bump his wrist. They’re a little tight.
Dib scoffs. “Whatever. Is there anything you want me to say?” He’s holding a scalpel, and it makes Zim nervous. He looks away.
“Just act menacing, I suppose. It might take a couple tries to get to them.”
“You’re really not bringing them here to blow up the planet?” He’s starting to sound doubtful again.
“No, Dib. I’m not. They’ll see I’m in danger and send for me.” That’s what he’s hoping, anyway. He ignores the thoughts of there being no guarantee he would even reach them. “Computer, call the Tallest.”
“Again? Your signals are still offline.”
“Just call them!” he snaps. “They’ll pick up.”
The computer sighs. “I can try.”
Zim is faced with the connection screen, the one he’s been staring at for the past month, begging to show him something other than nothing. Then the static starts.
“Computer, send an emergency signal.”
The connection attempts again before fading back to white noise.
“My Tallest!” Zim cries, hoping the desperation in his voice isn’t as obvious to Dib as it is to him. “I’ve been captured by one of the filthy humans! Send help!” He struggles in his restraints for effect, but the ache against his wrists feels real as he begs for release from so much more than the stupid chains. The monitor is still static. How is he not reaching them?
“Computer! Another emergency signal! Is there any way you can make it more urgent?”
“No.”
He shoots a glare at Dib as the connection re-attempts, because he’s just standing there, staring at him. Humans are so stupid . Dib nods, understanding a cue he shouldn’t have needed. He musters an evil-sounding laugh and holds a scalpel to Zim’s neck.
“It’s too late, alien! They won’t get to you in time!” He almost looks like he’s enjoying this. Zim winces, the blade far too close to his skin for a moment of truce. He feels actual fear start to stir in him when Dib doesn’t move his hand and the static continues to buzz.
“My Tallest, please! Do something!” Zim closes his eyes, realizing how big of a mistake this was far too late. “I need to get out of here!” He’s fighting the bars holding him down for real now, his boots kicking against the hard table. He struggles, expecting to feel his neck slice open any second, until he hears Dib’s voice again, calling him.
“Zim. Zim, listen to me.” He reluctantly cracks an eye open. The restraints are open, and his hand flies to his neck. He’s fine. Dib’s standing at the end of the table, scalpel gone, looking at him. His expression is unreadable.
“What?!” Zim snaps, sitting up and rubbing his sore ankles. He looks up at the screen, somehow still disappointed to see a screen full of static. He feels his antennae fall to his sides.
“They’re not going to answer.” Dib looks up at the screen too, and he looks… sad, almost? There’s something in his eyes Zim has never seen. “That, or your signal’s not getting through, but Zim, there’s no point—“
Zim shoves him when he hops up off the table. Dib stumbles, but doesn’t fall. He just shuts his mouth and watches as Zim stands under the monitor, eyes glued on the screen as it buzzes with nothing.
“Don’t tell me what I already know, stink. Now get out of my house.” He doesn’t sound as threatening as he means to, so he adds “Before I vaporize your organs” to the end for good measure.
This was such a bad idea.
Dib is quiet. He doesn’t move either, so Zim turns around to tell the incompetent monkey to leave already, but he’s looking at Zim with something far too akin with pity for him to be comfortable.
But it’s what breaks him.
He deflates, and instead of yelling, he finds himself weakly shoving the human’s back. “Go home,” he pleads, disgusted with how pathetic he sounds. “I will never ask you for another thing as long as I live on this terrible planet but please ,” he lowers his head, butting it into Dib’s back. “Leave Zim.”