“He is gone, Dib. Get over it.”
Gaz’s words still echoed in his head, as final as the sight of the empty space that the eerie, green building had left behind had been. The house had vanished overnight, as abruptly as it had appeared over five years before, without a warning. No more weird garden decorations, no more creepy lawn gnomes, no more odd noises and disquieting aura. The only sign that it had ever been there were the holes in the walls of the two buildings delimiting the recess where it had stood till the previous day. Soon, they would have been repaired and at, that point, even that small, fundamental trace would have been wiped away, together with the memory of the construction itself.
Dib remembered vividly having walked past the alien base, eyeing it suspiciously as always, on his way back home. Zim hadn’t showed up for classes that day, but that wasn’t so odd. The Irken usually attended his “student duty” more or less diligently, but it was hardly the first time he had skipped Skool to focus on one of his crazy schemes. What usually followed those absences was the Invader wreaking havoc during the night or the following day and him being forced to restlessly chase the alien to stop him from demolishing or conquering the Earth.
The teen had though that he could safely assume that it was what would have happened that time too. It was a game he knew very well by now, a routine too consolidated for him to even consider that things might have turned out differently. After all, no matter how hard he tried to wreck his brain, he still couldn’t think of any detail that could have made him suspect that his alien nemesis was about to leave the planet, taking any trace of his presence away with him. Not to mention that the Irken, despite all the time that had passed, was still as openly, utterly hellbent on carrying out his mission as he had been since day one. For that reason, the idea that Zim might just pack up and disappear, leaving the mission that explicitly meant everything to him unfinished, had never crossed the human’s mind. Not even once.
Dib laced his fingers behind his head and slowly lowered himself against the tiles of the roof. It was true that Zim had been quieter and sporting a weird pensive expression the last time he had seen him, two days before, but it hadn’t been anything so out of place. While not having lost an inch of his crazy randomness, the Irken had grown to be slightly more collected as the time had passed, especially when he was playing his “completely normal human smeet” character. Somehow, the other seemed to have figured out that the less attention he drew, the better and the easier it was for him to sneak around without people noticing. The alien could be quite thick, especially when it came to learning from his mistakes, fact for which Zim most likely had his overconfidence to blame, but he had got slightly…better over the years. Together with a few inches of height, he had gained a bit more caution, even if never enough to prevent his plans from blowing up in his face. Not the human was complaining. It was a good thing, for both him and Earth, and, besides, the Irken’s defeats and frustration always brought him an exhilarating dose of delight.
A small smirk stretched on his face at the thought, a hit of smugness colouring it, but it fell as quickly as it had appeared. The taste of the chase, the adrenaline, the complicated crazy schemes, the battles, the victories and the defeats, the pain and the joy, the meaningfulness. Zim had marked his life deeply and indelibly, in ways he hadn’t believed possible. The Invader hadn’t just given him the walking proof that he had been right all along. He had gifted him the aim of his life, the chance to self-appoint himself as the defender of Earth, of humanity and of what those two things stood for. He had offered him an endless boost of confidence because, every time he had doubted himself and his beliefs, a flash of green skin had been enough to remind him why he had to keep fighting, no matter what. And the Irken had, paradoxically, given him someone he could truly connect with. As twisted and perverse and mostly hate-based their relationship was, Dib had never felt closer to any other being, not even to his blood relatives. Never before he had had the certainty to know someone completely and be known by them just as deeply. It was terrifying, because Zim was his mortal enemy, but, at the same time, by now he wouldn’t have wanted it in any other way.
His eyelids slid closed as his eyes started to sting slightly, an instinctive movement ordered by his mind, because he refused to admit, even to himself, that he felt like crying. It was absurd, ridiculous. He should be happy. Ecstatic even. Zim was gone, which meant that Earth was safe, that he had won. He had no idea of what had pushed the alien to gather his belongings and leave, and most likely it hadn’t been his merit, but it shouldn’t have mattered. As the fact that he hadn’t managed to expose his nemesis shouldn’t have mattered too much either. He had succeeded in protecting his home world till the day when the Invader had been forced to give up and depart. That was what he should be focusing on. The fact that the invasion was over, the fact that they were all safe and sound, the fact that he would be no longer forced to risk his life and thrash his dignity every time the Irken came up with a new plan. The war was over.
And yet, all he could think about wasn’t what he had gained, but what he had lost. All the purpose, the meaning and the strong, needed emotions that Zim had brought in his life. They were all gone, swallowed by the boundless darkness of space, together with the same being who had firstly made them blossom. He still felt as shell shocked as he had been that morning when, while walking to Skool, he had found himself face to face with the absence of the Invader’s base and all it implied.
Dib licked his lips, finding them dry, and swallowed slightly, struggling to get the gulp of air down his throat and only obtaining to have it stuck like a knot in his trachea. He had stood for a long time in front of the now empty space, unable to do anything but staring at it. His brain had taken an embarrassingly long time to catch up with what he was looking at and, when it finally had, his eyes had widened so much that they had hurt, as his heartbeat had spiked up.
The next thing he had known was that he was in the dirt, digging with his bare hands in the grass and in the loose soil, looking for a trace that could tell him that either he was hallucinating or that it was just another of Zim’s tricks. He had to have shouted a lot too, at some point, because he remembered noticing how hoarse his voice had sounded when he had cursed under his breath, after his frenzy had finally ceased. He had been left lying there, panting harshly, covered dirt and mud, all sweaty, fingers aching badly.
However, what had really risked suffocating him, the same feeling that was still oppressing his chest, hours later, was the complete sense of loss and betrayal. Zim had had no right to just leave like that, without a word, taking away the aim of his life, abandoning him there to fence for himself and to face all the ugly consequences on his own. The Irken’s mission had always concerned him as much as it had concerned the alien himself and the Invader had to know it, at that point. Just as the other had to be aware of how tangled in each other they had become, at the same time against their will and on purpose. He refused to believe that Zim had been oblivious to how much their rivalry had come to mean, to them both. He knew the Irken well enough to be able to read between the lines, to see the difference between how he acted towards him and how he behaved with the rest of the universe. That special kind of hate had always been for Dib and Dib alone.
A frustrated groan escaped the human’s lips and he kicked one of the titles, hard enough to detach it and cause it to fall down, the sound of it shattering on the drive way echoing in the silence of the night. Zim had known all that and yet he had chosen to depart anyway, without saying goodbye. And the bastard had even decided in his place what Dib should do about it. Namely nothing. Because, when the teen had finally headed back home, dirty and aching and still shocked, he had found out that Tak’s ship, his ship, was gone too, mysteriously disappeared just as the alien’s base.
The incredulity that had dawned over him had turned into burning anger in the matter of a second and he had unleashed it on the garage, throwing things off the shelves and kicking them until the floor had been so littered that moving around was almost impossible. He had stood in the middle of that chaos, hands bleeding once again, ruby lymph dripping from his clenched fists and from a cut on his cheekbone, hair messy and glasses crooked. The room had turned once again deadly silent, exception made for his quick, panting breath.
He couldn’t have told why the anger had suddenly evaporated at the sight of the mess. Perhaps it had been the thought that it resembled so much the crumbled, smoking ruins of what was left of his life. Or maybe it had been the awareness that he was stranded on his own home planet, with no way to get off. He had collapsed under the burden of those realisations, knees hitting the cement hard enough to bruise, but he hadn’t been able to feel the physical pain anymore at that point. All he had been aware of had been how hopelessly trapped he felt. All the decisions had been taken away from him and he had been left there, choking on the inevitability of his situation and powerless to fight back.
Gaz had found him sitting there, an undetermined amount of time later, knees drawn to his chest and chin dropped on them. His limbs had been numb for having stayed still for so long, just as his mind had slowly become, once the last traces of the raging, heated emotions had been swallowed by the cold, dominant sense of loss left behind by his outburst. His thoughts had been more lucid and he had calmed down, but that had just made it all hurt more.
The girl had almost kicked his ass because, at first, he had refused to offer an explanation for the mess he had made, but eventually he had told her, even if he had had to make an effort to force each word out of his mouth. He had been shaking a bit by the time he had been done, once again overwhelmed by the awareness of what had happened. It had been as if speaking it aloud had made it truly real and undeniable. Definitive.
Gaz had eyed him for a long moment, then she had kicked away some of the trash to be able to sit down next to him. The gesture had surprised Dib, because he had expected her to insult him and leave to go back to her business. Instead, she had kept quiet, had pulled out her portable console and they had just sat there in silence, sides brushing, till the cook robot had come to tell them that dinner was ready. At that point his sister had stood up, grabbed him by the arm to rudely coax him into doing the same and then had spoken those harsh but true words, before stepping back inside the house, adding that he would need to clean up the chaos later. He had followed, still feeling numb, but somehow her company had steadied him and so he hadn’t felt the need to glance behind while leaving the garage.
Sucking in a deep breath, Dib reached out and rubbed his mostly dry eyes under the thick lenses of his glasses. Perhaps he should consider going to sleep. He was exhausted as he hadn’t been in a long time and it was getting late. It was well past midnight already. He didn’t think that he could just “get over” Zim, as Gaz had told him to do, but eventually he would have learnt to work around it. He hated the idea of his life going back to be as it had been before the alien came to Earth, but he didn’t have any other alternatives. At least for the moment.
His amber orbs wandered towards the starry sky once again. Maybe, one day, he would have been able to go back up there and he would have touched the mysteries of universe once again, even if it wouldn’t have felt completely right without Zim in the picture. It was a stupid thought, one that was far too sappy considering that it was his nemesis he was talking about, the cruel, crazy monster who had put him through hell and back more than once, but it was the truth. Without that loud obnoxious green head nothing would have ever been the same.
A sigh escaped his lips as he pushed himself up in a seated position, stretching his still sore muscles. He had better go to bed. His brain was clearly fried if he was having that kind of thoughts. He needed to clear his head and metabolised everything that had happened. Then, starting from the next day, he would have started rebuilding his routine and life step by step.
However, he didn’t even have the time to begin standing up because in that moment his laptop, which had stayed set next to him, on but forgotten, emitted a piercing beeping sound, signalling an incoming transmission. Dib blinked, caught off guard, and shifted to be able to sit in front of the screen, hitting a key to accept the message. Who could be contacting him? Someone from the Swollen Eyeball? Or perhaps it was one of his informers, wanting to signal him a possible case of paranormal activities? Or could it be his father, with yet another tirade on the fact that he had refused, for the umpteenth time, to join him in the labs? All good, reasonable hypotheses, but what welcomed him when the display blinked into life was instead the thing he would have never expected to see.
A quiet gasp left his lips, as the extremely familiar, lopsided smirk that materialised before him made his tired eyes grow painfully wide for the second time that day. The reaction clearly wasn’t missed because a sly, malicious glimpse lit up those large magenta orbs for a moment.
“Hello, Dib-worm. Shocked, aren’t you? Did you really think that you could get rid of the Mighty Zim so easily, foolish creature?” The Invader taunted, smug and overconfident as always. “I bet you were celebrating your victory already, weren’t you? Well, know that you have won nothing. I haven’t given up on my mission. NEVER!”
Dib gaped for a few seconds, too bewildered to come up with a proper comeback. He blinked a few times, just to make sure that his eyes weren’t playing a trick on him, but the alien’s face didn’t fade from the screen and, instead, Zim’s expression grew more and more impatient at the lack of an answer to his mockery, even if the glimpse of amusement stayed in his eyes. The jerk was obviously enjoying the shocked look he had to be wearing.
“Zim!” The human finally managed to breathe out, his tone filled with incredulity. Then a spark of the anger that had pushed him to devastate the garage lit back up in his chest and he let out an enraged growl. “You…You asshole!” He exclaimed, much more loudly and with more energy. “You’re so lucky that I can’t reach you, or I’ll have smashed that ugly bug mug of yours already by now! And had you strapped on an operating table! You took my ship! And you…you just left without saying a word! What the hell!”
Zim’s face darkened slightly and he crossed his arms on his chest. “That was never your ship, Earth monkey. It’s Irken technology, so it’s property of the Empire,” he stated with an offended scoff, but then he lowered his eyes. “Besides, I couldn’t risk you doing something as foolish as following me this time.”
Dib threw his hands in the air at the answer, even if the gloomy hue in the Invader’s expression worried him slightly. “Oh, and why is that, uh? Are you afraid that I can mess up whatever scheme you’re plotting?” He still talked back, trying not to listen to the weird, agitated feeling that was slowly rising in his chest. “Well, guess what? It doesn’t matter. I’ll stop you anyway, space scum. I’ll find a way even without a ship, if I must!”
The Irken let out a frustrated growl. “What are you even rambling about, stupid human!” He exclaimed, hitting something off screen, his annoyance matching the teen’s, but the haunted look on his face grew deeper. “I’m not working on some amazing plan to take over your ball of dirt! I wouldn’t have removed my base and thrown away years of brilliant plans of infiltration if I had been, don’t you think? You humans are so disgustingly dumb that it makes my spooch revolt!”
Dib was a bit caught off guard by the abrupt outburst and he slowly lowered his arms from where he was still keeping them raised. He studied Zim’s image a bit more carefully, noticing how tense his shoulders were under his usual confident act. Something was wrong, very wrong. His breath hitched, against his will, and he leant slightly in towards the screen.
“Zim,” he said, his tone now calm and deadly serious. He hoped that the alien would just answer him, without throwing out some of his usual crap. “What’s going on?”
The Irken’s antennae dropped backwards and for a moment he looked like he was pondering not to answer. The human couldn’t help being alarmed when he saw his rival’s claws lingering on the keyboard, as if the other had been considering simply cutting the communication off. He knew that, if Zim had closed the transmission, he would have never managed to contact him again and to get the explanation he needed so much. He would have just been left there, for the second time, without any alternative to tormenting himself and trying to cope with his doubts, with nothing but cruel uncertainty and questions that might never be answered.
Luckily for the human, the Invader, in the end, decided against such an action and instead raised his orbs on him again, a reluctant but determined expression on his face. He didn’t speak right away, choosing to study Dib for a few moments as intensively as his nemesis has been staring at him while he pondered what to do, but eventually he seemed to have fully made his mind up.
“The Empire is at war, Dib,” the alien spoke in a calm, grave tone the teen had rarely heard him using. “There is an enemy threatening our borders. A powerful one…Even if, of course, not as powerful as the Empire. Because no one is as amazing as we Irkens are.” The words and the scoff that followed them sounded forced, but Dib had no chance to cut in, because Zim went on immediately. “All the soldiers and the Invaders had been called back from their current missions and sent to the front. I’m not an exception. Quite the contrary. The Tallest…They are sending me straight on the front line. Even past them. They said that my…uh, talent for blowing up things might turn out to be very useful for once. They entrusted me a…very special, secret task and I intend to carry it out. I cannot disappoint them.”
The human felt a small pang in his chest at how dejected his rival looked for a moment, as he spoke the last sentence. He knew that expression very well. He himself had often worn it, and still did, every time his father made sure to manifest how disappointed he was in his “insane son” or whenever the other agents of the Network dismissed his hard work as nothing but child play or madness.
“Zim…” He tried, even if he wasn’t sure of what he would end up saying. Despite the connection they had developed, their interactions had never officially gone past forced, temporary alliances. Comforting each other had never been part of the deal. It shouldn’t be.
The Invader raised a hand, stopping him from saying anything else, perhaps for the best. “I don’t need you pity, human. I am nothing but proud of my task,” he stated with force, but his expression clearly told that he was trying to persuade more himself than the teen. “I will succeed and earn the glory I deserve.” He blinked and every trace of hesitation disappeared from his expression. “And, once I’ll be done with those foolish creatures who dared to challenge the Empire, I’ll come back and finish with your stupid, primitive planet and with your big, smelly head.”
Despite himself and the worry that still lingered inside him, Dib couldn’t help that small smirk that touched his lips, instantly mimicked by the Irken on the screen. The situation sounded bad and, for all he knew, the Tallest might have ordered Zim to go past the enemy’s lines and blow himself up, but he wanted to believe in the implicit promise he was being offered. He needed to. And he was sure that the alien did too. Otherwise he would have never gone through the trouble of calling to tell him that he would be back.
“Oh, I can’t wait for you to come back and make my life miserable again. Also because the next time you’ll leave this planet it will be because I have kicked your stupid alien ass off it, space boy,” he shot back, deciding not to mention all the doubts that had crowded his mind. Time would tell how foolish they were to choose to cling to an oath made to your arch enemy, but for now that silent vow was all that mattered. It was all they had left. “So, hurry up and win your war. I’ll have a proper welcome back party ready for when you land here again. I promise that you’ll hate it.”
Zim smirked more widely at the threat hidden in the words he had been addressed him and lifted a hand. At first Dib thought that the alien would have just spat out an insult and closed the communication, but instead he saw the Irken hesitating, his expression changing from reluctant to almost annoyed and then back to determined. There was a brief flash of something else too, a feeling he hadn’t been able to recognise, but it was gone as quickly as it had come and then Zim was pressing his left palm and claws against the screen, towards him. His other arm was bent and pressed across his chest, closed fist near his left shoulder.
Confusion flooded through the human, but he still mimicked the pose, pressing his hand on the image of Zim’s own and clumsily bringing his other arm against his torso. His best hypothesis was that it had to be some kind of salute. However, he couldn’t be sure since he had never seen his rival down anything of the sort. Also, it felt much more intimate than a simple greeting should have and he found himself wishing that he could be touching the Invader’s hand instead of just feeling the coolness of the display under his fingers.
“Don’t grow lazy and disgusting again while I’m gone, Dib-thing. Zim wants to find his nemesis in shape when I get back,” the Irken claimed with force and his fingers flexed slightly against the screen, in what might have been an aborted attempt to reach out through the light years that currently separated them.
“I won’t make that mistake again, Zim,” Dib shot back readily, with a small scoff. “I can still hear the universe laughing at me at times.” He licked his lips nervously. “You…Don’t get killed. I have too many things I need to get back at you for. And I want my ship back.” The same ship that the Invader had stolen to prevent him from ending up caught in a mess that might have killed him. The idea that the Irken had been trying to protect him left him unsettled, but the disconcerting warm feeling it evoked wasn’t so bad. He frowned deeply. “I’m serious, Zim.”
The alien rolled his eyes. “You should know that it’s not that easy to be rid of me by now, worm child,” he simply stated with a shrug. However, then his magenta orbs found Dib’s amber eyes, locking their gaze together, and his expression sobered once again. “Ask around. An Irken Invader never leaves his mission unfinished.”
Then, with one last nod, Zim dropped his arms abruptly. “Farewell, Dib,” he stated with in a tone that was almost solemn. “I wish you all the most horrible, non-lethal misfortunes the filthy ball of dirt you call home can offer. But don’t you dare to perish, because Zim and Zim alone will have the pleasure to end your inferior, unworthy, pig existence.”
It was Dib’s turn to roll his eyes, in exasperation, but there was no real heat in the gesture even if he scowled slightly. “Yeah, of course, alien scum. I’ll start my misadventures by trying to choke on my breakfast tomorrow morning as first thing,” he simply said, deciding not to throw more insults in the mix. The bit of sarcasm he had used would do. “Say hi to GIR and Minimoose from me.”
The Invader didn’t care to offer an answer, weirdly leaving him the last word for once, when usually he tried hard to have it himself, even at the cost of saying something ridiculous and unrelated. It was a parting gift, the human realised all of a sudden, noticing the slight hint of hesitation in the alien’s movements, when the latter reached out to close the transmission. Something that Zim wanted him to have, in the case he wouldn’t have been able to keep his so dear Irken Invader’s word.
The instinct to call out for the alien again, to prolong that conversation, even if it was already over, hit Dib hard, just as every other single emotion had that day, but when his lips parted, ready to say something, even just his nemesis’s name, the screen had already turned black, leaving him once again with the sensation that the chance to have a say in what would happen had been taken away from him. It was absurd, he rationally realised it, because nothing of what he could have done or said could have brought Zim back on Earth, making him choose to disobey a direct order from his Tallest, but not having even had the possibility to try still felt like bitter betrayal.
“Curse you, Zim,” he muttered under his breath, a small frustrated sound escaping his lips. However, the emotion faded away almost immediately, swallowed once again by the exhaustion, mental and physical.
Dib reached out and closed the laptop screen, collecting it and the rest of his stuff as he prepared to get back inside the house. At least he had got some answers. He knew why Zim had suddenly left and he had the knowledge that, if it would be up to him, his rival would have eventually come back, bringing back all the meanings that he symbolised for the teen. However, war was an ugly, unpredictable thing and people died in it, no matter how trained and technologically advanced they could be. Besides, this mysterious enemy race the Invader had mentioned had to be incredibly powerful to represent such a serious threat for the Irkens, and that wasn’t reassuring at all. Zim had always had an unbelievable amount of luck and craziness on his side, but there was no guarantee that they would be enough in this scenario.
Shaking his head, the human got up on his feet and lifted his eyes towards the sky, amber irises capturing the silver light of the stars. He wasn’t going to allow himself to be wrapped and drowned in those gloomy, pessimistic thoughts. The space moron had made him a vow and he would keep it. No other option was acceptable. In the meantime, he would make sure to hold on his part of the promise and keep himself sharp. He would take up more paranormal cases, improve his equipment, persuade Gaz to teach him how to fight properly. And, when Zim would have come back, he would have been ready. To resume their war, but maybe even to consider something different.
He sucked in a breath. The fact that the brief call had happened, the connection they had shared through that weird gesture, the still mostly obscure meanings dwelling between the lines of the words they had exchanged. All that had meant something that went past everything they had shared till that moment, something he couldn’t grasp yet but that he knew being there and important. Perhaps, when the alien would have got back, they would have been given a chance to understand the whole extent of its meanings and its consequences.
“I’ll be waiting,” he whispered to the quietness of the night sky. “It’s not over, Zim.”
As his thin figure slipped off the roof, disappearing inside the shadows of the dark house, he had the deep certainty that, somewhere in the depth of the universe, under the light of different constellations, another voice had echoed, in an alien language, his very same words.