Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Zim had always detested this inane practice known to humans as therapy, but after internally debating on it for two months straight, he figured he would give it a shot. He feared his main issue would be trying to maintain a human-like facade while booking an appointment, if his farce disguise of merely contacts and a wig was not much of a tip-off, but his doubts were all relaxed once it refreshed in his memory how pitifully dumb the human race is. His go-to skin condition excuse was not even needed.

His allocated brain doctor was a nice human lady; her name was Doris and she had three kids and also a wife, and Zim knew this because he had once asked the definition of family when it was brought up. He had basically boiled it down to the other souls living in the same residence as him.

"Well, there's GIR," he had explained. "He's my assigned SI- I mean... my dog."

"Aww!" Doris had tipped her head with intrigue. "What kind of dog is he?"

Zim had stiffened. Was he supposed to have researched the different strains of Earth dogs before attending this activity? "...A green one?"

Thankfully Doris had not pressed on with that. "I see," she had said kindly. "Do you have any other pets?"

"Uh..." GIR wasn't really a pet, he was a specifically designed SIR unit, with the supposed purpose to assist him on his mission. But soon their relationship became something like keeping an eye on your inattentive younger sibling - there were even times Zim even felt like he was GIR's very pissed off father.

Zim had set his hands on his lap. "There's also Minimoose. He's..." He had learnt beforehand that moose (mooses? meese?) are not the usual animal companion of humans, no matter how small nor suspended from the ground they are. But luckily, he had learnt of the other animals that were similar to moose. "...A horse."

"Oh!" Doris had placed her clipboard on her knees. "That's wonderful! My friend owns horses; one of hers has actually foaled the other week."

Zim had nodded, having no idea what foaling was. "Yes... I do sure like it when they stomp with their..." He had thought back on his previous horse research, on a tidbit that had particularly freaked him out. "One phalanx per limb." Dear lord, how do those creatures even get by?

Doris had chuckled and scribbled something in her clipboard. "Yes, horses are terrifying." She had slipped the pen in her pocket. "What about the other people in your residence? Is it just you and the animals?"

"No, no. There's also Skoodge." Finding the fellow irken living in his basement the whole time without once breaching his base's security system had caused quite the kerfuffle. "He lives with me."

"I see. Is he your friend?"

"Eh..." Was he? Zim had never considered himself having any of the sort. "I guess you can say that."

He had leaned back into the chair as he reflected. "We have known each other since we were sm- eh, babies. Skoodge would do anything for me. I mean, who wouldn't?"

Doris had hummed as she took out her pen and started writing again. "Can you tell me more about your relationship with Skoodge?"

"Well, as I said before he would do anything for me. In our youth he was the one soul I counted on and I trusted him to bend to my amazing will." Doris's writing became a bit more hesitant. "He was the one bargaining chip I needed to appeal to the Tallests-"

There he let slip, and there was no escaping from it.

"Tell me more about your Tallests," was the primary topic for today.

Zim wringed his hands, barely acknowledging the bird that had slammed against the window. "They're my...managers at work," he said carefully. "Authority figures are, eh, referred to as the Tallests in my workplace."

"Yesterday you said you and Skoodge had to appease to them," said Doris. "Could you perhaps elaborate a bit on that?"

"Well, they're considered the most superior out of everybody in our...work." Zim rubbed his eye as the contact started to itch. "So naturally we have to show dedication to their cause and show submission under them." He sat up and tapped pridefully at his chest. "Not to brag but - I like to say I did a pretty good job at it. It's too bad it wasn't appreciated, though."

Zim quite enjoyed talking about his undervalued efforts. "I was their finest, eh - worker. It only makes sense that they would assign me to venture into the... unexplored parts of the job. I did everything within my own physical and mental strength to ensure they would be pleased with me, and promote me to a higher rank - to prove I was truly deserving of such a position. It was all Zim could ever ask for."

His heart suddenly sank as it set in. "...Perhaps that's why it took me so long to grasp the fact that the whole thing was just a massive joke."

He sat up from the chair and hugged his knees. Doris crossed her legs. "The Tallests never appreciated me as much as I thought they did," he rasped. "I thought they trusted me with this task... something so important they would only assign their greatest example. But the whole thing was some sick-minded ploy to be rid of me. Me! They want to dispose of their best worker!"

He threw up his arms. "I don't understand it! I thought the mission was supposed to be important - I thought they trusted me!"

Doris scribbled on the clipboard. "And how did that affect you later on?" she asked.

Zim snarled, "Oh, I don't know! It might have made me doubt every single thing I had going for me!" His hands balled into fists. "I mean, serving under the Tallests and abiding to their cause - that's all I ever cared about! All I ever known! Everything I had ever done was for their respect, and for them to see how much of a brilliant-minded inv- worke-... person I am!" He spat out that word.

"But if I can't have that!" he went on. "If I was never deserving of even a smidgen of their respect, then..." His hands collapsed on his lap and he felt himself creasing up like a wrung-out towel. "Then what have I been doing all my life?"

His eyes were itching like crazy underneath his contacts and as he rubbed and irritated them to his best degree, the reality of the situation sat heavy on his back. Was his fate to just die alone in this miserable planet? The fear of not earning their respect even after conquering Earth was what prevented him from going through with destroying it.

"Zim." Doris's voice was soft but firm. "While your situation is quite unique, how you're feeling right now is actually very common. We all yearn for respect and the chance to prove ourselves. It's what makes us human; we're pack animals and we naturally want to gain the approval and respect of whomever we come across."

Zim stiffened. He wasn't human, but irkens were a social race of aliens. It was what attributed to their imperialism.

"Failure to meet the expectations of others can cause you to self-doubt," Doris went on. "As well as feelings of insufficiency and failure, especially if you've previously withhold a high opinion of yourself. But what's important is holding onto the positivity that kept you going all this time, even when you were under the guise of having the respect of your managers, because you were kept determined by your sheer confidence and belief in yourself. Don't let go of your self esteem now because of your feelings of inadequacy from people who never gave you the appreciation you deserved; instead utilise it into staying determined outside of their respect."

She leaned forward in her seat. "What you need to remember is that your feelings are always important, and that you exist outside the expectations of other people. You had done exactly what you were told to do, and so it wasn't your fault that it didn't turn out the way you expected. You have nothing to be ashamed of; you have gone so far into letting your own pride aside to recognise you need help."

Zim could feel his antennae flatten under his wig. He should feel a bit ashamed for almost destroying the planet that this woman was calling home.

"Nobody's perfect, after all. We can only do so much for the people we're supposed to look up to. As I had said previously, we are human after all."

Another twenty minutes of some brainless fluff and the session was over for the day. They had agreed on a day next week for their next scheduled appointment, and after exchanging their goodbyes, Doris wished him a safe journey home.

Zim was preparing for a lonesome walk back to the base when he remembered with a jolt that he did not attend to the clinic alone. On the bench outside the room sat Skoodge and GIR, both clad in their usual disguises - Skoodge had a whole wardrobe but he habitually picked out a curly brown wig and grey contacts.

Skoodge promptly looked up from the magazine simultaneously about hygiene and politics he was reading and set it on his lap. "Hey!" he chirped as Zim walked over. "How did it go?" GIR shrilled a greeting next to him, all while preoccupied with a paddle ball in one hand. Zim didn't remember him having that before.

"It went okay," Zim responded vaguely, shrugging.

“When’s your next appointment?”

“Next week. On Friday.” Zim turned on his heel and began army marching down the hallway and to the clinic’s exit. Skoodge and GIR allowed suit, and Skoodge fought his way to walk beside Zim as he tried to search his indistinct expression.

Skoodge tapped his index fingers together, his antennae twitching nervously under his wig. “Hey, Zim, I was wondering if I could ask you about-”

He hastily recoiled as Zim extended an arm to palm his face. “Not now. Zim is not in the asking mood yet. Just wait until we’re out the door.”

“Oh, okay.” So much for that. Skoodge tied his arms behind him as Zim approached the door. His brewing question lurked in his mind but he decided to call it quits for the time being. “Uh, this isn’t what I was gonna ask but - did she talk to you about the Tallests?”

“I told you I’m not in the mood.” Zim turned and his eyes narrowed at him, appearing more irked than angry.

Skoodge lifted his arms. “Sorry! It’s just-”

“She did,” Zim interrupted.

Last week he recalled voicing his irritance and fear that Doris was going to bring up his accidental slip-in mention of the Tallests, but thankfully he had all that time to disguise the true events with unsuspicious, human-esque practices. He internally praised himself for so expertly getting away with it.

“It wasn’t too bad, right?” Skoodge queried as he followed him out the door.

He made a vague noise followed by a shrug. “She didn’t suspect that we are actually an intelligent imperialistic race of aliens,” he said right as a man wearing headphones pushed through the door, too distracted in his music to pay attention to what was being said next to him. “But I think what she said gave some assistance anyway.”

“So, are you gonna follow through with her advice?” They stopped a bit down the pavement that led to the clinic. “It won’t hurt to reassess your stance with the Tallests. That’s what I’ve been doing.”

Zim scowled. “I tried when I walked out her office but nothing clicked.”

“That kind of stuff doesn’t happen in three seconds, Zim. Trust me - it took me forever.” Skoodge stuck his arms out from behind him. “Anyway, since we’re outside… please can I now ask you about something?”

His eyes rounded with hope as Zim stopped to think for a moment. But then Zim waved his hand and picked up GIR’s leash. “Eh… I’m still not feeling it. Try again when we’re back the base.”

“Oh, come on!” Skoodge protested as he followed him down the road.

Chapter Text

It was dark. Skoodge stared with twiddling thumbs up at the corner of the ceiling as a fly shuddered violently within a spider web. The couch felt coarse under his rump.

"I can't be the only one who thinks it's weird," he murmured, half to himself.

"Nyeh!" squeaked Minimoose, situated next to him on top of the remote.

Skoodge groaned and leaned back. "It's like he knows and he just wants to avoid the question." He blinked against the dazzling light coming from the television, spitting colours he had never encountered when he lived in Irk. "I mean, I know he never liked that kid. I wouldn't feel so hot about someone if they were constantly on my back."

He turned to face the one companion in the room. "But Zim did say he wants to aim to become better, and so wouldn't trying to make amends help his case a little?"

"Nyeh!" Minimoose said again, not changing in tone nor expression. Skoodge raised an eyebrow and then directed his eyes front again, unsure if Minimoose was really speaking or just making sounds. He was never able to understand him, and whether Zim could or was pridefully playing along was anybody's guess.

The two of them sat in silence for a few more minutes, the only light coming from the straining pictures of the television screen, whereas the base was coated in total darkness. Skoodge assumed it must have been the middle of the night, where most humans of this destination would be asleep, and Skoodge possibly would have followed suit if he was just as reliant on sleep as they were. Zim would often spend the night in his lab, and so Skoodge would wait the night away by watching TV with GIR or Minimoose, or engaging in his own research of the planet in which he would retreat into his own personal quarters and made so with whatever equipment he had salvaged when he had been living in Zim's basement.

Earth was pretty interesting, but also just as stinky as Zim always said. Still, he liked to watch those shows known to humans as romantic soap operas.

He was about to slip the remote from beneath Minimoose and switch on another one of those soaps when a low whirring noise erupted from the other room, and the lid from the toilet extended as GIR was elevated from the bowl, his robot feet squeaking across the floor as he hobbled to the living room. Zim came after him, reaching up to adjust an askew antenna before following him.

"I ate 10 of the skool children," said GIR.

"I told you not to do that."

"I'm sowwy, mastah!"

"Me too, GIR. Me too."

It seemed like Skoodge was not going to be totally alone after all. He leaned over as the two entered the room. "That went quicker than I thought," he said. "Is the security working now?"

Zim rubbed at his eye. "Well, I finally figured out that the problem is the base recognises humans as threats and nothing else, so after detonating several baby squirrels, a new system has been set."

"Why baby squirrels?"

"The smaller, the better." Zim turned to his robot servant. "Good work tonight, GIR. As your reward, you are permitted 7 hours of TV."

"Yay!" GIR immediately dashed towards the sofa and shuffled in between Skoodge and Minimoose, slipping his hand under Minimoose to scoop up the remote and scour for the Floopsy show he favoured so much. Minimoose merely responded to this by rolling on his side and squeaking, still wearing that goofy smile.

Skoodge sat compressed with his hands on his lap, and then noticed Zim making a turn back into the kitchen. His mind raced for a moment, and at last he climbed off the sofa to follow him. "Hey, Zim. Wait up!"

He stopped him just as he entered. "I dunno if this is a bad time but... Can I please ask you something now?"

Zim set his jaw, baffled for a moment, and then memories from the evening before came flooding back. He exhaled and folded his arms. "Alright, I think you earned my time," he muttered, turning quite dramatically in his heel. "What is it?"

Skoodge was surprised but enlightened by Zim's postponed acceptance that he was almost stumbling over his words. "Oh, great!" he beamed. "So, I've been thinking, because you're trying to reform yourself and all that... How about you try resolving your issues with that Dib kid?"

What replied was a frown, followed by a look of disgust. Skoodge's smile quickly faltered and his antennae dropped. "W...What?"

"I thought I prohibited bad jokes in this household," Zim hissed as he walked to the end of the room to close the toilet lid.

"It's not a joke, Zim," Skoodge argued. "I... really think you could benefit from it. I mean, when was the last time you even spoke to him since that day?"

"I don't owe that pest anything." Zim strode right past him. "Anyhow, now is not the time to start discussing my past affiliations."

Skoodge narrowed his eyes. "I thought it was."

"Well, I changed my mind." Zim approached the trash can and stepped on the pedal that opened the lid. "I don't even know why you chose to care about something so stupid-"

"What about that time Dib stopped chasing you for like a month and you got so depressed you wouldn't even leave the sofa?" Skoodge challenged.

Zim paused and rounded on him. "How the hell do you know about that?" he growled.

"I was in your basement for a while."

Zim gritted his teeth and released his foot from the pedal. "That was a different situation, anyway," he declared. "It came from a choice. It's not like I chose the Tallests to turn their backs on me!"

"But this has nothing to do with the Tallests, Zim." Skoodge was trying hard to keep his voice low but it was proving difficult in every second. He took a deep breath and raised a hand to Zim's shoulder. "Look, I know-"

He flinched as Zim slapped his hand away and glared magenta daggers at him. Skoodge sucked air through his teeth and resumed, "I know you're going through a lot, and what happened with the Tallests wasn't your fault, but you did say you'll commit to your new, uh... mission of improving yourself."

"And the Dib should have little to no involvement in it," Zim shot back. "I don't see how he has anything to do with it."

"Except he has a lot to do with it! Whether you like it or not, Dib was a huge part of your past mission, and I know he probably reminds you of what went wrong but you can't just pretend he doesn't exist now. You two were foils for each other, and now that you're not going to destroy the Urth anymore, where does that leave him? Where does that leave you?"

"It leaves him the victor of the whole thing!" Zim exclaimed. "He has won; Zim has lost - what else does he need?"

"He doesn't need anything from you! All I'm saying is that I think talking out your issues with Dib will do you some good. How hard is that to get?"

"I understand every bit of it. And I think it's useless dookie!" He slammed his foot on the pedal again and clambered inside the trash can. "End of story!"

Skoodge stumbled forwards. "Zim-"

"Silence! I don't want to hear anything else from you. And don't you think about following me!"

He began his descent back down to his observatory and despite the many rejections, Skoodge reached out anyway, of course to no avail. Skoodge gritted his teeth and swore quietly to himself, running a frustrated hand through his antennae, and turned to saunter back to the living room, praying by Irk that GIR and Minimoose were too absorbed in their TV show to acknowledge their argument.

Dammit. Such an idiot.

Zim didn't resume any of his work when he re-entered his lab. He tried to - there was a particular fusion between a chicken and a rat he needed to pay mind to, but at some point Zim found himself crouching down with his back against the wall, palming one side of his face as he waited for the smouldering anger inside him to diminish.

That stupid Skoodge, sticking his smelly, non-existent nose where it didn't belong. Since when did he care so much about the Dib? Zim snarled to himself. He was beyond thankful to have Dib outside his personal life; it was how it should have been from day one. He was alone. He was free. He was nothing.

Invaders needed no one. Zim's fist closed around the base of his antennae. But he wasn't an invader.

When Zim finally lifted his head from his knees, he felt thick and groggy: somewhat reminiscent after being slowly run over by a truck - how he imagined it would feel, anyway. He scrubbed dried discharge from his eyes and suddenly his antennae erected upon realisation. Had he somehow fallen asleep? When was the last time he had done that? He slowly lifted his stiff, aching body from against the wall and arched his spine, straining for noise. Aside from the usual distinct whirring, the lab was quiet. Quieter than usual.

As he took time to caress his back, he discovered what had awoken him from his unexpected siesta. Within the bleached darkness of the lab, he caught a pale cyan glint at the corner of his vision, accompanied by a squeaking sound. He turned to spot GIR shuffling across the room to pick up the green dog suit he had disarmed on the floor.

"GIR." Zim marched over as the robot slipped his costume on. "What are you doing here?"

"Gettin' mah suit." GIR pulled the hood over his head and sauntered back where he came. Zim watched him with one eye narrowed.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"Gettin' a suckmonkey."

Zim folded his arms. "The stores are all closed at this hour."

"I di'n't say I was buyin' it."

He snorted and GIR continued on his way. Then memories from what had recently occurred came back in a torrent, although unsure on exactly how long it had been. His arms slowly uncoiled and fell at his sides. "Where's Skoodge?" he asked, loud enough that GIR could still hear.

"He wen' to bed," GIR answered, pausing again. "He was all mad 'n stuff."

"Was he?"

"Yeah. Mad you won't talk to Mary. Said you were bein' an asshole."

Zim's jaw gaped for a moment, several thoughts worming into his mind. "...I told you not to use that word," he scolded half-heartedly.

"I'm sowwy!" GIR lamented.

Zim sucked through his teeth and dismissively twirled his wrist, unwilling to deal with another of GIR's diabolical collapses at that moment. "Yeah, whatever," he muttered. He sighed and folded his arms. "I don't get why he's making such a big deal out of it. Dib was nothing but a nuisance. It's not like I ever relied on him."

GIR, having already recovered from his brief meltdown, stared blankly at him. Zim met his eyes and his face somewhat softened. "...Right?" All of a sudden he remembered the whole moping episode Skoodge had brought up before, which GIR had been a very prominent witness to. "Actually, don't bother answering that."

He turned away and folded his arms behind his back. "Well, I'm not moping now, am I?" he ranted. "I've clearly learnt better; I just needed some conflict in my mission, something to keep me on my toes."

He fiddled his claws into the hems of his gloves. "And just like Skoodge said - I'm learning to become better, I'm learning to not rely on anybody else. I don't need anyone - Zim needs no one!"

Extending his arms in some sort of victory pose he spun around, expecting GIR to praise and applaud at his expense, but only to discover he had no audience. GIR had left, and Zim was all alone again in the dark. He lowered his arms and stared at the corner where GIR had stood, almost expecting him to manifest back into place so he could feel a bit less stupid about his rant. But alas nobody came, and it was only him and the distant screeching of the chicken-rat hybrid.

So Zim did begin to feel a bit stupid. And also very, very hideous.

Zim spent the last hour complimenting, pacing, swearing to himself, before finally giving in if it meant Skoodge would stop being mad at him, and accidentally teaching human swear words to GIR because eating human babies was chaotic enough for his robot servant.

It absolutely was not due to the inevitable conclusion that Skoodge's words held some truth, and Zim was not willing to accept the fact that he was still suffering, and that talking to his past rival would provide at least some closure for the time being.

He ascended from his base and shut the toilet seat behind him, extending his body in a stretch before crossing out into the dark living room. There came a blur of sounds and a nauseating dance of colours from that room, and he discovered the TV had been left on. He decided to leave it on - he needed the light.

From several hooks on the wall hung several of Skoodge's coats, which all provided the perfect protection from the current weather as by a brief check inside his lab. He lifted himself by the tips of his feet as he reached for the coats, scouring particularly for the brown leather one he secretly favoured. It clad brilliantly onto Skoodge, and so by that logic it would most definitely mould perfectly into him as well.

He located it and ripped it down, slipping one arm into a sleeve. "Computer," he declared, "fetch my disguise."

"Which one?" boomed the voice from above, a clear contrast to the drastic lengths Zim had taken to keep quiet.

"The usual one," he retorted. "Don't be a wise-ass."

"Okay, jeez."

A pair of robotic arms protruded from the ceiling, each sporting his habitual disguise of a wig and contacts. Zim slapped them both on, and thickened the neck of his coat before pulling up the zip and heading for the door. He stopped just in time to realise an antenna poking out from under his wig, and so after making some quick readjustments, he was ready to slip outside.

Despite his coat, the cold gnawed at him anyway. Zim would never get used to Urth's fickle weathering, but he was at least thankful it wasn't raining. He folded his arms across his chest and walked downtown, keeping his head low and relying mostly on memory to reach his destination. As it was still very early, probably around 4am now, he had predicted he would not run into any humans on his walk, making his decision to keep his gaze glued to the pavement all the more justified.

And he had seen maybe one car on the road, but in totality the streets were completely barren, almost like they too had slipped into a state of brief unconsciousness like their human inhabitants. Zim had no idea how long he had been walking, but when he took the time to observe his surroundings, he found himself only a small stretch away from where he needed to go. He recognised Dib's house like no other; for one it was significantly larger than the other houses surrounding it, and also there was a large electric field at its front yard that would generate at late hours for security purposes. Zim took a deep breath and advanced towards the path that led to the door, forcing himself to keep walking whenever he would begin to fear his feet would root to the spot.

He stopped right at the doorstep and placed three loud knocks, his hand becoming heavier at each rap. He stood back and awaited for response, and it was then he started to contemplate if it was even a wise idea to request company at this hour. After all, to his best of thought, all residents of this household should be sound asleep by now. He had no idea if Clembrane slept, and he also had no idea if Clembrane even knew how to answer the door - or if he was allowed.

But regardless, he waited with patience, although his breathing was growing more and more unsteady. He wondered if Dib would attempt to dissect him right then and there, or if Gaz would jam the leg of a ham right into his mouth, or if Clembrane would force feed him a plate of pudding, or if Professor Membrane would invite him for coffee the next weekend. Was this a good idea? His claws dug into the palms of his gloves. Just stay calm.

Right when he was beginning to examine the idea of retrying this another time, sudden rustling came from the other side of the door, followed by vexed grunts and ramblings. Then the door clicked as it unlocked, and it jarred open in a small, insecure crack. Zim could already tell this wasn’t who he was after.

“Juro… if this is another early girl scout-” Gaz poked her head from the small crack and her eyes opened wide in shock, her words choked in her throat for a second before she could spit out, “You? What are you-...” She cut herself off and her brow furrowed in a trademark glare. “Why are you here? You have any idea what time it is?”

Zim forced his lips to stay uncurled. “I could ask the same to you.”

“Don’t question me,” she snapped.

“Is your brother here?” Zim asked promptly.

Gaz gawked at the question, raising one eyebrow. “What do you want with-?”

Zim’s patience ran thin. “Just answer the bloody question!”

She winced, taken aback by his sudden outburst, before her eyes squeezed shut again and her guard raised up. “...Yeah, he is. You want him, or something?”

Zim only granted her a hard stare, which was confirming enough for Gaz. “Alright, fine. Give me a sec.” She disappeared back inside the house, inching the door forward a bit, but Zim was still able to hear the inside. He strained to listen as vague sounds came from the house, for a while all he heard was shuffling along the floor, and then some shouting.

Gaz sounded like she was yelling at the other side of a football field. “Hey, Dib, wake up! Your favourite old man is here.”

Zim’s teeth bared at the comment but he continued to listen without a word.

There was some silence, and then more distant noises came from further up the residence. Another voice rang out, “Gaz, it’s four-thirty.” More shuffling, and then sluggish footsteps advanced for the door. Zim immediately jumped back. “And what do you mean my favourite-”

Dib pulled open the door and immediately trailed off as soon as his eyes fell on Zim. “Wh- Zim?!” His instantly awakened face greatly polarised his grey pyjamas and sleep-flattened hair. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Zim’s spooch knotted but he kept his eyes firm. “I want to talk to you.”