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The Irken Anatomy	By : ladylaguna Category: +G through L > Invader Zim > AU/AR-Alternate Universe-Alternate Reality Views: 4135 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Zim and all related characters - Viacom... All unrelated characters � Jenn L. No profit is gained from this writing.

Chapter List
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Thankies, as usual, to Calantha for looking over this for me. :)

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Those hands made Dib forget all about Zim. Or so he told himself. But as he led the girls back to the hotel, those eyes continued to haunt him. And as they rolled around in bed, Dib couldn't stop thinking that Zim might be in the next room... Could he hear them? If so... how unnecessarily cruel...

Those hands and lips could not be denied, though. He came a couple of times, but felt no satisfaction in it. Drifting off, limbs tangled in those of these girls, Zim haunted his thoughts... and then his dreams.

When Dib awoke, the girls were gone. Not surprisingly. Pulling his pants on, he entered the hallway and knocked on Zim's door. No answer. “I know you're probably angry, Zim... But can we talk about it?” ...no answer.

“Asshole,” he hissed. If Zim wanted to play that game, he could. He turned back toward his own room, reaching into his pocket for his wallet and the room key.

His wallet was not in his pocket. Laughing bitterly, he leaned hard against the door. Must have fallen out when all the clothes were flying last night... Down to the front desk he walked, shirtless, feeling sort of dumb. Fortunately, he'd thrown generous tips around from the moment he arrived, and nobody hassled him about getting another key. The clerk informed him that his girls had left very early in the morning, before dawn. Strange...

Back in his room, he could not locate his wallet. Since the room was immaculate aside from mussed bedclothes, he finally realized what had happened.

Such sweet little things. They'd probably already made a purchase or two with his credit card... Let them have some fancy jewelry, a few outfits if they wanted... He could easily track them down and send a goon or two to scare them. See if they robbed any more hapless businessmen after that!

A few keystrokes on his console blocked and emptied the account. He had others, of course. And the girls would probably be located by that evening. He had other issues at hand to deal with, however. Putting on the rest of his clothes, he returned to Zim's door. Still no answer. Now feeling particularly vindictive, he pulled out the other spare key he'd acquired.

Zim's room lay completely untouched, the bed still completely made. Had he returned to the ship? Dib had locked it up tight, but Zim could be annoyingly brilliant at times; he might have been able to bypass the lock.

Sighing, he went about his morning routine. Once he was clean, with a full stomach and a batch of answered mail, he checked out of the hotel. Then he met the delivery boy at his ship. The place was still locked up tight! As the boy unloaded all of his goods in the rear bay, Dib sought Zim out. His room lay empty, seemingly untouched. GIR still sat in front of the TV in the common room; he likely hadn't moved since they'd left.

“Hey. GIR. Where's Zim?”

After a moment of thought, GIR replied, “Off-planet,” his voice deadpan as he continued to stare at the screen.

Slapping a hand on his thigh, Dib growled, “What the FUCK.” Yet again he was just going to disappear, like he had done twenty years ago? Fine. If that's how he wanted to play it. Fine.

Once the ship was completely stocked, Dib pulled up the gear and took off. A day passed. He had no real destination. His anger cooled to a simmer and he began to pace the halls of his ship. Of course Zim left... If Dib had been in that situation, he wouldn't have stood around and accepted it either. Dib had done something completely uncalled for. Why was he still angry at Zim? Because he was a fucking idiot?

He'd always been a fucking idiot... That was part of his charm. Sighing, Dib stopped in the doorway of Zim's room. In the middle of his bed was a small metal case... Curious, Dib approached and reached out his hand to pick it up. Six inches away from it, his fingers began to burn.

“...uh?” Switching to his bad hand, he lifted the case gingerly off of the bed. Lined up in somewhat neat rows were six small glass vials... Orange liquid...? “...wow.” No wonder his scars hadn't healed... He'd been poisoning himself with this Amber concoction for who knows how long. Unfortunately, he had probably spaced out the dosages enough that he was simply building up an immunity, as Dib had done when Tzin subjected him to all that torture...

“Ha... hahahaha.” Dib left the room with the thing, tossing it into the nearest trash chute. “You're even a complete failure at killing yourself, Zim.” He wandered back into his own quarters, dropping into his chair and pouring himself a stiff drink. Two. Three...

“I'm so... so sorry.” Burying fingers in his hair, Dib leaned his head on an arm. All this time, he'd been nursing this hatred for Zim, denying all of the shit they'd shared together... They'd shared their deaths with one another. He suddenly remembered, so vividly, the look of anguish on Zim's face as he looked down on Dib's lifeless body. That damn video... He'd sent Dib off into space and took that final step, only to wake up again in a Dibless universe. All these years, he'd thought Dib was dead, and tried so hard to go back to sleep again...

Dib resented Zim because the human had struggled for so many years to claw his way back into a life worth living... Thinking that Zim was just living it up on Solstice... When, in fact, Zim didn't want to live life at all.

It definitely was pathetic. And it was all because of Dib, wasn't it?

He eventually stumbled to bed; the liquor put him out quickly enough.

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"Never in my life... Have I ever had anything to care about of my own. My goals were the goals of others. My possessions were but tools, means to an end."

“This sounds awfully familiar.”

Zim was standing before him again, though he was now nude. Covering himself with his spindly arms, he cried, “Don't look at me.”

Sighing, Dib removed his trench coat, handing it to the Irken. “This is really us, isn't it? All these years I thought I was dreaming, but it's been us from the start.” Hiding in that damn trench coat again, Zim merely stared at him. “You've been trying to reach out for me all these years, and I shut you out.”

Antennae wilting, Zim pursed his lips. “Zim... was not strong enough to reach you.”

“Would you... have saved me?”

“Eh?”

Dammit, even in the subconscious he was dense as a brick. Unfortunately, their conversation was cut short; his face registered a moment of surprise before those eyes blinked out again.

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Waking abruptly, intoxication dissipating, Dib sat up straight as a rod. He definitely couldn't let it end like this. All these years, he hadn't given up, and he wasn't going to do it now.

“GIR!” he barked as he reentered the common room. Of course, GIR had not yet moved for the course of two days.

Turning his head sharply, the little robot stared up at him. “Youuu smell like old corn.”

“Get up. Go to the bridge. And tell me where Zim's gone to.”

“Oh, all right.” He couldn't disobey; Dib assumed Gaz had never dialed down his obedience index... but he sure as hell didn't look happy about it.

Within moments, GIR had a location locked down. Well, for the most part. Zim was on a ship that had last passed a checkpoint in the Terong sector. It wasn't a public transportation ship... How did Zim wrangle a ride on anything else? Maybe Zim had managed to swipe Dib's wallet... No, Zim was not nearly that talented.

Aw, well. Whatever. He would find out the truth soon enough.

“What the FUCK, GIR. Old corn?” He sniffed his shirt. Maybe it was the alcohol...

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Thankfully, Zim's years of attempted self immolation made this pain nearly insignificant. As they trotted him out to what seemed to be a small lab, he caught snippets of their ramblings. They were definitely insane... No amount of reasoning was going to get him out of this one.

“We will become one with you!

Share your consciousness with us, Great Prophet!

You saw the other world... You saw the other world and came back...”

Dying was the stupidest thing he'd ever done.

They stripped him down and strapped him down to a metal table. Then the needles came out... After the hundredth, Zim lost count. Every vein, it seemed, was tapped. His antennae were pierced (that was quite a bit more painful), Pak pried from his body.

For the first few hours, they were simply content with collecting his blood. Draining, draining, draining... They were quite impressed with the volume of life force he managed to produce. Of course, the Irken and the Meekrob ensured that he'd be able to satisfy them for quite some time to come. They, of course, took it as a sign of his divinity.

One after the other, they lined up to get a drink. The mug from which they drank was very important, apparently. There was ritual to this, too. One of the oldest among them, possibly some type of shaman, administered the blood to those he deemed worthiest.

Though, soon, the mug was insufficient for this. The needles were ripped out, one after the other, and lips were pressed against his skin, sucking the very blood from him.

Up to this point, Zim felt little emotion. All these years, he'd done his best to kill that part of him that he had so recently discovered before Dib's death. It was no wonder that Paks were designed to kill anything an Irken could truly feel; emotion was weakness. Love was painful...

However, once the bright silver knives began to flash, catching his eyes in the white light... His stomach twisted just slightly. What were they going to do...?

Painstakingly, they cut small squares of flesh out of Zim's body. This was not consumed, but stored in small vials and put aside. But as blood welled in the wounds, they continued to lap at it...

At this point, the pain became unbearable and morphed into sickness. Would he die at some point? Be cut away until he was nothing left but a brain with two eyes attached? A bitter laugh erupted from his throat; his cult laughed too, their cuts becoming more zealous.

He was enveloped in a haze of pain, the sound of their chattering blurring into a dull hum. Without his Pak, he had no idea how much time had passed... So instead he lie there, completely docile and silent, retreating into his own mind as they hacked away.

Then there was an explosive sound, jarring Zim abruptly from his waking death. The ship tilted violently to its side, spilling so many of the fanatics into the floor. They were broken from their revelry, looking around in a panic as the alarms sounded. The lights went out and only the emergency matrix stayed on, flooding the room with alternating whites and reds.

Had they been hit by space debris? Suddenly, Zim mattered little to them. Would they leave him strapped down, coated in his own congealing bodily fluids as the ship imploded? Would he die then? Or would he simply float in space, blood boiling in his very veins, for eternity?

A ruckus started on the distant end of the hallway. Zim heard yelling. All but the shaman deserted him, scrambling into the hall to address whatever situation had arisen. More yelling. The sound crept ever closer... Then the crowd erupted into the room again. At least seven willowy aliens clung to a much taller, hairier form. With the lights and the sound it was impossible to tell exactly what was going on... The monster gripped the lip of the door, pulling itself in with difficulty as they kicked and pulled and screamed.

“ZIM!”

It was Dib! He had come! Zim could only lift his head a few inches, struggling to focus with all the chaos around them. Growling various curses, the human threw two of the fanatics to the side. He kicked and punched but more and more came to take the place of those he spurned. Wading through the mass of creatures like mud, Dib managed to reach the table. “ZIM!”

Zim tried to reply but his throat was much too dry... His lips only moved uselessly as he stared down at the other. Dib's temper finally boiled over, his power exploding from him in a bright arc. All but one of the aliens was thrown to the walls; he grabbed the last by its head, dashing it against the wall like a glass vase. Finally unhindered, he moved to the side of the table, looking down at Zim.

The shaman fell to his knees, mumbling as he bowed to the human. His eyes crackled with unreleased energy, ire clear even amidst all this. No words were exchanged... Dib ripped the remaining needles away, breaking Zim's shackles and pulling him into his arms. His body was so small and fragile...

They turned to leave. Some of the fanatics were stirring, reaching and screaming that the Prophet could not abandon them. Dib ignored their pleas... but as he approached the door, Zim himself began to protest.

“The coat!! They took the coat!”

Brow furrowing, Dib stared at the other. “I'll buy you a new one.” Was he talking about that stupid trenchcoat?

“NO!” Summoning strength from somewhere deep within that he didn't realize he had, Zim began to thrash and push, eventually tumbling out of Dib's arms into the floor. He crawled then, searching through the masses for his precious coat. Sighing in resignation, Dib began to kick the fanatics to the side, clearing the way for the Irken.

He finally reached the table upon which all the vials had been set, now thrown to its side in the corner. There, amidst the shards of glass and bloodied flesh, lay the coat. As Zim picked it up, his Pak also rolled out of it, bumping against Dib's boot. Turning, he eyed it and then the human. Pain still blurred his vision. He tried to grab it but missed...

Dib bent to retrieve it, gripping Zim's arm and hauling him to his feet as well. Unfortunately, Zim's legs immediately gave out and he fell against Dib.

“Can we leave now?” Dib sighed, looking down at the other, an arm curling around his waist supportively. Feeling self-conscious again, Zim pulled the coat close, blinking wetly as he looked around the room. “...yes.”

Pulling the Irken into his arms again, Dib made a run for it. More aggressors were already moving to block the door, so he phased right through and past them. The lurch was unlike Zim had ever felt before. The Meekrob within him surged, causing his stomach to roll violently. Wailing in pain, he leaned over Dib's arm and vomited up all of the food he'd last eaten. His Pak hadn't had time to process it...

Dib cursed as he felt bile splash against his exposed arm, but he didn't stop. Crushing every skull that got in his way, he finally made it to the end of the hall. He'd completely breached the ship with his own. Fleetingly, Zim noticed that his ship had the equipment for forced breach and boarding. It wasn't just a luxury vehicle...

In moments, they were standing in Dib's cargo hold. The seals were lifted and he engaged reverse thrust, effectively kicking the other vessel away. “Have fun decompressing,” he hissed as he turned his back on the door in finality.

The next few moments were passed in complete silence; Dib carried Zim to the infirmary while the Irken clung tightly to the coat. Once he was in the hallway, Dib barked for GIR to hit the bridge. “Set course for Kharna.”

The name didn't settle into Zim's brain right away. “...Kharna?”

They entered the sick bay and Dib lay Zim out on the table. “It's my home.” He held his hand out for the coat. Zim simply stared at him for a moment, refusing to relinquish it... But Dib looked particularly irritated, and Zim could smell his vomit on him... So he finally, guiltily, handed it over.

Carefully sitting the stupid frock to the side, Dib brandished the Pak. It greedily reached out for Zim's body, attaching to his neck and settling into its rightful place. It immediately went to work, pumping Zim's bloodstream full of very pleasant drugs that took the edge off his pain. Dib noticed the difference right away; Zim's eyelids fluttered, his limbs sagging against the piece of furniture.

“You live... on Kharna.”

“Yeah.” Flicking on all of the overhead lights, Dib went about patching up Zim's numerous wounds. “This damage is extensive. Your scarring is even worse... I don't think I have the expertise to deal with this. Ninnehla should be able to figure you out, though.”

The drugs made Zim more willing to talk, his antennae flicking in protest before he remembered how bad they hurt. “Zim does not wish to be figured out.”

“I know,” Dib answered, a strange lilt to his voice. This answer confused Zim, and Dib didn't seem willing to elaborate, at least at first. A half hour passed... His head and arms were covered in bandages again, just as before... But now Dib had seen all the ugliness beneath them. Zim felt almost crippling shame. “I found your 'stash,'” Dib finally stated. He didn't meet Zim's eyes.

The Irken blinked. “...uh?” Then it clicked. “Oh...”

Dib seemed to struggle with the unfurling of a particular roll of adhesive. Were his hands shaking?

“Don't be angry. After so many years alone... With absolutely no purpose... Zim grew tired of living.” Dib's hands stopped entirely, eyes obscured by his wild hair. Zim shuddered, afraid of what he might unleash now. “You said... You didn't want to heal either...”

“It was different,” Dib murmured, his voice aching. But he recovered quickly, getting back on task. Still, he did not meet Zim's eyes. “So, GIR helped me track you down. I didn't realize you'd been kidnapped... I hailed the ship and nobody answered. I thought you were just being an asshole so I rammed you. Then I came through and all these little Phoescians were swarming me.”

Staring at the ceiling, Zim repeated, “Phoescians...”

“I can't believe you got kidnapped by Phoescians. They're the chodes of the universe. We're going to have to help you remember self defense, Zim.”

“They were religious fanatics,” Zim insisted, fingers playing over the cool metal nervously. “They ambushed me.”

Snorting, Dib retorted, “And you always wanted the universe to worship you.”

“I was ready to go.”

“STOP IT.” Dib grabbed his jaw abruptly, forcing them both to lock eyes. “I don't want to hear any more of this fucking quitter talk. Do you hear me? You were given a fucking gift, and you're not going to squander it. I don't care how useless you are or were.” He couldn't help but grin slightly. “You were useless before and it never stopped you.”

Zim's lip merely puckered slightly. Making a noise of disgust, Dib let him go and went back to his work. Not another word was uttered until Dib was finished. Zim now looked almost like a mummy, completely bandaged aside from his head and genitals. He could barely move, but what was the point of moving anyway? Looking over his handiwork, Dib nodded and gathered Zim into his arms again.

Depositing Zim into his bed, Dib covered him up and dusted off his hands. “Try to heal for me. Concentrate really hard on it, okay?”

“...okay.” His face didn't betray much concentration, but Dib didn't think Zim had a whole lot of mental power available for that task. Sighing in resignation, Dib scratched his head. “I'm going to go wash all of your vomit off of me. I'll come back to check on you soon.”

And so Zim waited, contemplating this turn of events. He stared at the dark ceiling, tracing each join in the metal plating...

Dib had come for him, but not because he knew he was kidnapped. Zim had always been confused by the human's thought processes before, but now he was impossible to interpret. It seemed that now they would be together again... After a fashion. Without Dib's love, could Zim really continue on? Just tagging alongside him while he flew around the universe, never to know his affection again?

The light filtering in from the doorway was broken and Zim's eyes turned downward. Dib, hair now wet, body clad in nothing but a towel, leaned against the doorjamb. “How're you feeling? Need anything?”

“Zim is fine... I need nothing.”

Dib nodded slightly, but didn't move. It seemed he was struggling with something. Finally, he spoke again.

“About fifteen years ago, I was captured by a group of Irkens that had managed to survive the cataclysm. They kept me captive on their ship... Raping and torturing me at their leisure.”

Zim's brow furrowed. As usual, no appropriate reply came.

“There were times that the pain was so intense that I wished they would let me die. But I would always pass out... I would always heal because of the Meekrob and it would start all over again. I escaped that hell by pure luck... And I vowed that I would never take life for granted again.”

Inhaling a ragged breath, Zim closed his eyes tightly.

“I'm sorry. About those girls. It was cruel of me. I also vow that I will never do that to you again.” He smiled, though Zim couldn't see it. “If it makes you feel any better, they stole about ten grand from me. I won't get that money back, but I got video of some buddies of mine torching their apartment.”

Laughing to himself, Dib turned to leave. “Goodnight, Zim.” And he was gone.

Fortunately, Zim had his Pak to wipe away the tears... since the bandages kept him from reaching his own face.
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The Irken Anatomy