Author's Note

Rated T for mild profanity, angst, violence, and morbid subject matter.

No romantic relationships are present in this story. I've just never been into shipping or writing romance. This story is ZaDe/ZaDf, and includes a few other friendships between canon characters.

Disclaimer: I do not own Invader Zim. All rights reserved to the respective owners.

Chapter 1: Of French Toast and Scythe-Haired Stalkers

The apocalyptic red sky, adorned with steaks of white, cast its ominous glow over the neighborhood. The sun beat down, idly warming the earth and a small breeze accompanied the tranquility of the balmy spring morning. As always, the planet's inhabitants remained in a state of blissful ignorance. They went about their days and failed to recognize the oddities that lay right beneath their noses. In the form of a bizarre teal house with even more bizarre occupants, this oddity was unrecognized by nearly all. On this day, the streets outside the peculiar glowing abode were immersed in the peace of a quaint Saturday morning during the peak of spring. People went about their morning routines, scuttling down the sidewalk, obliviously jogging and walking by with dogs and strollers in tow.

After a few moments, the quiet was interrupted by the faint sound of the television radiating from within the walls of the living room. Then, in a stunning feat of vocal amplification, "GIR! TURN OFF THAT FILTH!"

The demand pierced through the air, arousing vague interest from the various passerby as they glanced up in mild irritation at the source of the noise before continuing with their respective lives.

Inside the house, GIR muted the television dejectedly and wandered into the kitchen where Zim had emerged from his base, via toilet. The Invader was distracted, pacing the floor of his mock living area, seemingly lost in his own reverie as he began searching for something. He rifled through drawers, checked between couch cushions, and glanced agitatedly around the room.

GIR watched on, momentarily curious, before lighting up and running into the kitchen. His 'advanced' brain had yet to focus on a single objective for longer than a few seconds before he was on to the next non-sequitur. He dashed back out a few moments later, stopping before he plowed headfirst into Zim's rear.

Though deep in thought, Zim sensed his SIR unit's presence and turned to face him, scrutinizing the little robot up and down. He scowled, his brow furrowing in annoyance.

"Why on Irk are you covered in syrup, GIR?" he growled with clear irritation, fading slightly out of his previous trance.

"I made French toast! For the trip! Whoooo!" GIR pumped his tiny fists in the air, obviously proud of this messy accomplishment. Syrup dripped down his arms and onto the floor as he did so.

"I told you to stay out of my way. I'm very busy," replied Zim in exasperation, turning away again. His vague answer indicated that he was already back in his own little world, not at all listening to his robotic henchman.

"Where is it? Where is it? I can't leave this stinking planet without my, my...ugh!" Zim muttered angrily, pacing the floors and searching through various nooks and crannies.

GIR wandered in with a plate of French toast. "What you looking for?"

"My wig!" Zim spat, growing ever more frantic as he searched.

"It's on your head!" GIR squawked, accidentally spilling some syrup from his plate as he leaned forward, pointing at Zim's stunned countenance.

Zim swiftly felt his head, tearing off the black wig and revealing his two antennae, pointed upwards in his agitated state. They almost immediately flattened back against his skull again as he sighed in relief. He straightened, composing himself once more.

"GIR, it's very important that we arrive to the convention well prepared. That means giving our insubordinates a lesson in what it TRULY means to be an Invader." He shook the wig in GIR's face as he spoke. "We must demonstrate just how we have managed to SEAMLESSLY blend in with the humans."

It had been quite some time since the Great Assigning on planet Conventia—five putrid Earth years to be exact—and it was now time for the Progress Convention for all Irken Invaders assigned to planets in Operation Impending Doom 2. All would meet amongst each other, presenting the progress made in their respective missions. They would discuss their tactics for blending in with the indigenous life, present notes taken on their weaknesses, and debate the best strategies for world conquest. As if this weren't unnerving enough, the Tallest would also be in attendance, listening and undoubtedly judging each Invader on their advancements.

True to his style, in the final hour, Zim had masked his nervousness amply behind an extra layer of arrogance. He had been pacing around the base, yelling orders at GIR and frantically packing bags all morning.

GIR watched as Zim packed up his pathetic human disguise alongside GIR's green doggie suit in a very formal looking suitcase. He turned to face the little robot again, who had speared his fork into another syrupy slice of French toast. Zim stood perfectly erect with his hands clasped behind his back, ready to stream another tirade of demands and complaints.

"Now, it's very important that we remember to bring everything of value along with us. Even with the Voot in hyperdrive, this will still be a long trip. We can't afford to forget anything! And the base MUST be secured against that horrible DIB!" Zim inhaled sharply, revving himself up for another onslaught of words.

"Are you listening GIR? All defenses must be activated, all gnomes set to the highest security possible. Now where is my Elite uniform? I must bring it! NO! I can't show myself without the proper attire! Gah! this is just awful! We can't—" GIR nonchalantly lifted his fork and popped the whole slice of French toast into Zim's mouth, cutting off his next sentence. Zim's fuchsia eyes widened in bewilderment as he snapped out of his little outburst.

Before the overreactive Irken could properly respond, though, GIR had scampered away to finish packing his own trivial belongings.

Meanwhile, Earth's Sole Defender lay face-down across his desk in a small puddle of drool. The sun attempted to peek in through his closed blinds, but his dark room kept the balmy weekend morning shut away from sight. Dib snored lightly, exhausted from watching video footage of Zim's front door all night.

Whether he liked to admit it or not, he was becoming more and more like his father each day. While Professor Membrane devoted his life to science, however, Dib had spent every waking second of his young life immersed in the paranormal and unexplained. And like his father, he had unwittingly fallen into the limbo of a certified workaholic.

Dib had grown a head taller than his alien counterpart, further exemplified by the progressing gangliness of his limbs and awkward skip in his step. Just shy of sixteen years of age, he had become slightly milder mannered in the past couple years. While he still harbored an unhealthy obsession with apprehending Zim, he had learned to hold his tongue among his peers. As to be expected, years of constant taunting had only fueled his angst and frustration towards the world. While this was a staple in adolescence, though, Dib had also found himself metamorphizing into more and more of a misanthrope as each year passed him by. Like grade school, he secluded himself from others aside from his family and focused almost entirely on his paranormal studies.

And while he fought desperately to maintain the same life he had always lived, he could feel the tension of impending adulthood bubbling beneath the surface and threatening to erupt into a full identity crisis.

Dib muttered in his sleep and stirred. His hand brushed lightly against a large notebook that he used to record his paranormal sightings. The movement caused it to tip off the edge of the table and smack loudly onto the floor, pulling Dib unceremoniously out of his dreams and causing him to nearly jump out of his skin at the noise. His glasses were askew, and his scythe lock hung limply across his forehead.

"Wha?" He mumbled groggily as he lifted his glasses to rub his eyes. He glanced at the clock briefly, it's glowing red numbers indicating that it was just past 7:00 a.m. Grabbing his trench coat, which had been cast to the floor in a heap the night before, Dib slipped out of his chair and sprinted downstairs to his kitchen.

As to be expected, Professor Membrane had left long ago to work. Weekends held no meaning for someone without whom the Earth would fall into chaos. Dib's sister, Gaz, was likely still asleep, though there was no way to be certain. Her door remained shut and heavy silence emanated throughout the house.

Dib padded through the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of milk and pulling out a small voice recorder from his pocket. "After a night of observing Zim's base and listening in on conversations via the bug I planted in his main room, I can deduct that he is preparing for…something. The aerial surveillance system is fully functional, as is the camera I placed in the front view of his freakish little house. I will follow up with more as information becomes available." Dib proudly set his device on the table, inexplicably satisfied with his lackluster notetaking skills and supply of valuable information. As he moved about the kitchen, he simultaneously tinkered with a set of binoculars and prepared his breakfast.

His newest strategy of infiltration was the aerial surveillance camera. Which, of course was just a drone he had purchased with the sole intent of spying on Zim's house from above.

So far, the results were…boring. Dib had hoped to catch footage of Zim's Voot Cruiser taking off, but so far, the alien had kept to himself and stayed indoors. No doubt plotting something despicable…

Gaz walked into the kitchen in the midst of this, absently taking the plate of toast Dib had left on the counter as he became immersed in packing his various gadgets and notepad into his backpack.

"Hey! That's mine," he complained as he whipped around. Gaz ignored him and sat at the table. Small, tinny noises emanated from her Game Slave as she silently ate Dib's breakfast and battled her way through level 67 of Super Kicky Fighter.

Dib scowled and slung his bag over his shoulder. "Whatever! I'm going to go spy on Zim's base. Who knows what evil he's plotting? As the last line of defense from Earth's demise, I must be there to stop him!" Dib walked past his sister, who was still engrossed in her game. She growled in response to his little spiel and turned away from him. After a few seconds, the front door slammed and Gaz rolled her eyes.

As he approached his destination, Dib eyed the bush across the street from Zim's house with zeal. Over the years, he and this bush had grown well acquainted, seeing that it served as the perfect lookout to spy on the alien and his demented minion. Dib settled in and produced the same earpiece he had used the night before to listen in on Zim and GIR.

"Now, GIR, prepare the Voot for our departure," Zim's nasally voice proclaimed. Dib's eyes narrowed as he adjusted the volume on his earpiece to better hear his nemesis.

-x-

Weeks ago, Dib had executed an elaborate plan to better spy on Zim. He had faked a sick day, taking the opportunity to sneak into Zim's house while he was away at Skool. Dib infiltrated the base, holding something invisible from sight tightly in his fist as he narrowly avoided the gnomes shooting lasers at him. Once at the door, Dib smirked. The hard part was over. He knocked politely, summoning Zim's strange robot doggie. Revealing the small device, Dib easily convinced GIR to plant it within the base, telling him that it was a surprise for his master.

"Hide it somewhere safe! Zim can't find it until…uh…his birthday…" Dib had lied badly. That's all he had to do, though. GIR had squealed enthusiastically and pranced back inside, finding a place to hide the little recording device.

-x-

"Too easy," Dib said aloud from the bush, revisiting the memory. He scribbled something into his notebook and continued to eavesdrop. Zim rambled incoherently as his voice slowly faded. He had moved to another room. As Dib listened, he heard a padding of small metallic feet grow louder. "Ooooh! Can't forget Master's birthday present!" Everything became muffled as GIR lifted the device and took the elevator upstairs where the Voot Cruiser resided. Dib could hear Zim's voice return as GIR and the recording device approached him.

"GIR! Where have you been? Get in the Cruiser at once!"

Before Dib could process what was happening, the roof of Zim's base opened and the sound of the Voot powering up were heard. Dib gasped and dropped to his knees. His heart pounded violently against his ribcage as he shoved his arm into his backpack, fumbling around for his camera. Zim was going to fly his ship in broad daylight? Dib was incredulous. He immediately thought back to his aerial surveillance camera and had to fight back a squeal of delight. He was finally going to get solid footage of Zim!

As he watched, though, nothing happened. The sound of the Voot's engine grew louder and louder. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the noise slowly faded and the roof closed back up. Dib lowered his camera. His face was plastered with confusion. Suddenly, something dropped out of the sky, landing at his feet in a heap of twisted metal. Dib emerged from his bush and approached it warily. It was his drone, mangled and destroyed.

Realization slowly spread throughout Dib in a crescendo of disappointment.

Irken cloaking technology had hidden the Voot from sight, thus allowing Zim the opportunity to make a seamless departure. In his haste, he had also plowed right through Dib's aerial surveillance camera, destroying it beyond repair.

Dib hung his head in frustration and dismay. He turned back to his bush dejectedly, ready to head home and forget his latest failure. Such is life for one with such a damned existence. He picked up his belongings and was in the midst of yanking the headphones from his ears, when, suddenly, a small voice spoke faintly into them. Dib's hand paused in midair.

"Are we there yet? When we gonna get there? You got any gummy worms?" It was GIR's voice from within the Voot Runner. "Shut up, GIR," Zim angrily retorted into the device.

Dib dropped his hand in astonishment. A sly smile crept onto his face and his eyes blazed with newfound fervor. The laugh that tumbled out of his mouth was barely controlled, piercing through the streets with an air of hope and just a hint of madness. Dib would get his proof after all.

Zim's gloved claws gripped the controls tightly as the Voot Cruiser broke through Earth's atmosphere and into space. He steered it in the right direction and put the ship on autopilot. Finally, Zim sat back in his chair, and gazed aloofly at the galaxy before him. His eyes narrowed. Now that packing was finished and the ship was in route to Conventia, Zim had nothing left to do but wait, alone with his own thoughts. His own thoughts and GIR. The tiny robot hummed quietly and stared out the window at the stars as they shot by.

The hours ticked by and Zim's stiff posture wavered. He could feel his muscles tightening and his hands fidgeting restlessly in his lap. His spooch gurgled loudly, overwhelmed with repressed anxiety and too much French toast, courtesy of GIR.

The Invader would never admit to a single soul that he was nervous to report in among his fellow Elite soldiers. In fact, he would never admit it to himself. The little Irken would much rather dive into a subconscious state of denial. At the first hint his emotional state may be compromised, his outer defenses went up, stifling any inferior sensitivities behind his signature egotism and repudiation. In a way, Zim's natural defense mechanisms were both a blessing and a curse.

Even so, he had been faced with a harsh reality that even someone of his thick-headedness couldn't ignore.

-x-

The previous week, Zim had been in better spirits, flitting around in his labs as he prepared for the convention. He was filled with zeal, a smirk painted across his face as gathered paperwork and schematics. He swiveled in his chair and hummed happily. His mind went to far off places.

He imagined himself being hailed as a god, the best invader the Irken military had ever seen. The Tallest would cry out in joy upon seeing his face, warmly regarding their most beloved soldier as he graciously taught the other Invaders just how world conquest is done. The other soldiers would surely bow at the feet of the amazing Invader Zim, awed by his accomplishments. He had successfully—

Zim paused, his smiled beginning to pull down at the edges as he racked his brain.

He had destroyed—

No…

Zim thought harder. He started to sweat nervously as the events of the past several years rolled by in his mind.

He almost took control of—

Huh. Well, his latest plan hadn't combusted in his lab…

Zim let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and gazed blankly at his computer monitor. Had he truly completed nothing? Zim scoffed at the idea, but it remained in the back of his mind for the next week, festering as the date approached. Zim grew ever more anxious, raising the suspicions of his large headed arch-nemesis, Dib.

Only a few days before he was set to leave, Zim sat alone at the lunch table at Skool, picking at his food as usual. He was distracted and deep in thought, thinking hard about the trip before him. He imagined being surrounded by his own kind again, even if just for a short time. The thought gave him mixed feelings.

Then, without even turn his head, he sensed Dib approaching him from behind. "Hey, space monster!" Before he could respond, Dib had forcefully gripped the back of Zim's head with his hand and slammed his face into the plate of mashed potatoes in front of him. He then proceeded to laugh maniacally, waiting for Zim's reaction.

To his surprise, though, Zim merely wiped the mess from his face and continued to gaze irately down at the table. Dib looked confused, stunned into silence as his typically overreactive enemy outright ignored him.

"What do you want, Dib-stink?" he asked eventually, sensing Dib still behind him. "Are you just here to be a nuisance? I'm very busy!" Zim looked irritated. He hopped out of his seat and walked past the boy, wiping off mashed potatoes as he marched outside to the schoolyard.

Dib's eyes narrowed as he watched Zim's departing form. "He's up to something, I just know it!" Even years later, the cliché phrase never phased Dib. His fervent attempts to stop Zim continued with the same dedication as when the two had first met.

Then he had decided to make use of his latest purchase: the aforementioned aerial surveillance camera. For the next three days, unbeknownst to Zim, Dib had been relentlessly spying on the alien as he prepared for his trip, leading up to his grand moment in the bushes as he took off for his convention.

-x-

With the Voot in hyperdrive, the trip was much shorter in comparison to Zim's initial six-month expedition to Earth. Even so, the journey was long and very dull.

Zim flopped back into his chair and closed his eyes. Irkens seldom slept—unless they were sick or injured, it was a purely optional affair. Zim often went weeks at a time without so much as resting his eyes. His work was never done, and the small Invader would rather devote his precious time to devising his plans instead of wasting it on such indulgences.

Now, though, there wasn't anything better to do. So Zim hung his head back and focused on taking deep breaths in the stuffy cockpit. Within moments, he was snoring lightly while GIR wandered aimlessly around the confined space. When he caught sight of Zim, he reached into a compartment inside his head, pulling out a blanket and a rubber piggy. He placed these over the sleeping Irken and admired his handy work.

"Aww," GIR crooned. He reached back into his head, pausing when he grabbed ahold of something foreign. He pulled out the small black recording device, sneaking a glance at Zim as he did so.

"Oooh. Gotta keep Master's present thingy safe."

GIR replaced the object in his head compartment and giggled. A moment later, he reached into another compartment in his belly and inexplicably produced a bottle of ketchup. He dropped into the seat beside Zim's prone form. He began to nonchalantly drink from the bottle and hum lightheartedly as the Voot shot onward through the vastness of space.