Part One: The Trade-off-

Being an exploration of the Irken Ways and the Life and Times of Dibberton Membrain, as regailed by the Boys Themselves with much Romantic Fumbling along the way.

A/N: I just want to thank xxDeathbyDiscoxx, who was the beta reader for the shitty first edition of this story. she tried to fix it, but I was too stubborn. Hats off to you Disco. You knew what was up.

In a classroom, in a school, somewhere in North America. Like in any classroom of this vague geographical region, buzzing, rattling, droning and the occasional shriek fill the spaces--and that's only the teacher. Two desks from the right side and one desk from the front, sits a boy with shoulders hunched and head bent, a single lock of hair obstinately obscuring his ocular intake.

If you had jumped two years into the past, you would have noted that the unusual hairstyle had basically inverted itself. If you were any of his acquaintances, you would have asked about a hundred times why the hair flopped in front now, instead of back and on top like a strange mutant fin, the way it used too. And If you had, you would have been told, at least a hundred times, that the price of hair gel was just too damn expensive and would you get out of my face already?

Or something of that nature.

So anyways, there was Dib sitting up front and utterly bored and fervently praying for a miracle with every ounce of his excruciatingly fed up gray matter. It went something like this:

Dear god or Satan or whoever the heck is in charge of this sort of thing, please, please, PLEASE allow something, anything, to happen, as long as it relives this unending BOREDOM.

Amen

Well, no sooner had he thought those words when out of nowhere came a flying ball of DOOM--no wait, false alarm, it was just a note. Dib, being a naïve and hopelessly positive kind of boy, didn't even stop to think that the note might be a "u r crazy!" sort of letter, the sort that pushed him just a smidge closer to the edge with every reception, and opened it immediately.

'Bored, earth-stink?'

Oh, so it was Zim…. Well, that settled it; Satan is defiantly in charge of these matters. Still no use in letting a prayer go to waste.

'Well DUH ...Aren't you?'

Zim opened the note. Of course I am! he thought, only a sniveling dirt-nosed-earth-monkey would enjoy this torture.

So of course he scribbled back:

'NOOOO! I am learning valuable information, which will be used to RULE YOU ALL!'

'Jeez Zim,' wrote the bemused paranormalist, 'you can't even write without screaming'

'You bore me human! tell Zim something of interest'

The boy frowned. What would the megalomaniac actually care about? The green-skinned idiot took egocentrism to a whole new level, not to mention his complete pig-headed stubbornness. It was, in fact, impossible to impress Zim—no, wait, he lied. Zim had been impressed by his mechanical armor, that one time… and his non-Newtonian blaster… and the Doom Wheel at summer camp… huh. He was starting to see a pattern.

'Why should I tell you anything?'

'Because I am Zim!'

'You should know by now that's not going to cut it.'

'Fine (insert a scribble here)Fine, Child, how about I tell you something in return? Only because I am so AMAZING that I know you're dying to know.'

Dib thought about it. I can't just give away my blueprints! And he wouldn't care about my other paranormal investigations… I guess I'll have to tell him something, ugh, personal about me. Dib shook his head, knowing that he'd do just about anything to escape the boredom at this point.

'Well, you know how you've never met my mom?'

'Zim has noticed this…'

'That's because she ran away.'

'"Ran away"? You were holding your parental unit hostage?!?!'

'No! It's just a phrase. What I mean is that when I was really little she got sick of my dad and me. And Gaz, I guess…'

'Your giant head probably bothered her.'

'My HEAD ISN'T BIG! And no, that's not why at all.'

'Then what was it?'

'She up and decided that she was a lesbian, so she ran off with Gretchen's mom.'

'Gretchen… the metal mouthed one who smothers you in meat based love?'

'Yup'

'Ewww'

'Yup'

At this point the bell rang, and the children who had been so listless and dead-looking only moments before jumped to attention with frightening gusto. Rushing for the windows and air vents, they nearly trampled the teacher--a teacher who'd been cut off mid-lecture on why you shouldn't leave the second that the bell rings.

Ain't irony grand?

As the scary, scary little seventh graders started to file out, Dib walked over to Zim, who was at that very moment trying to eliminate all evidence of the conversation-- via ingestion.

"Hey Zim?"

Zim looked up. The sight of a green, earless boy trying to EAT a piece of noted paper was so comical that Dib nearly burst out laughing. He managed not to, though, because then he might never stop.

"You do know lead is poisonous, right?"

Zim spit out the paper in a hurry.

"So, to my reckoning, you still owe me some info," Dib prodded, leaning over the desk.

"What kind of 'info' do you… have in mind?" the alien replied, looking suddenly nervous. As per usual, he hadn't really considered his end of the bargain.

"Since I'm pretty sure I have all your current plans figured out, and I know you don't have a 'personal history' you'd ever share, how about some cultural stuff?"

He picked up Zim's books and headed for the door with the Irken at his shoulder.

"Well," considered Zim, as they headed down the hallway "I suppose I could tell you something about..." he wracked his brain for the most useless but hopefully interesting piece of knowledge he could find. "I could tell you about my Tallest!" he offered as they turned the corner.

"Oh yeah! If I remember correctly, they're just taller than everybody else, right?" They headed for the big front door.

"Hardly JUST taller. But yeah, pretty much," Zim agreed with a huffy air, as if he was just barely tolerating Dib's lack of reason. Because he was so superior.

"Okay, what can you tell me about them?" Dib inquired, as they marched through the door and headed for the picnic tables.

"Well, have you noticed how they only have two fingers?"

"Err…." Dib scrunched up his face and searched his memories for one of those instances. "Yeah, I think so."

The two took opposite seats under a blooming cherry tree; Dib's backpack crashed onto the timber tabletop.

"Well, when they reach their first year without a growth surge… spurt…what an icky word… and they get initiated, the control brain in charge chops off the middle finger--" Zim mimed chopping off his second finger with a knife.

"Wow. Seriously? That's surprisingly barbaric for--hey! What do you mean 'final growth surge'?"

"I mean exactly what I said; the last surge of- no, wait, I forgot. You under-evolved life-forms of muck grow—blah--gradually. Have I mentioned lately that your biogenesis is lame?" He leaned back in his seat and nearly fell off. Apparently he forgot that picnic benches have no backs.

"Whatever. So Irkens grow in random blasts of height? Isn't that… I dunno… painful?"

"No and no. They aren't random, they occur about the same time every two years--OUR years mind you--and our bodies are adjusted to block out nerve responses during that time. Not that I expect a filthy earth-pig to understand…"

"Of course not…so why do they cut off the middle finger? There has to be a reason…" Dib rested his head in his hands.

"To prove that they can rule the planet with only two fingers! Only a truly great leader can do that." The invader smirked in his trademark fashion, infinitely proud of his 'glorious leaders'.

"Erm… okay… I'd think it was more meant to be metaphorical but alright, you're the alien…" Dib sat up straighter and stretched.

Wind bounced through the tree overead, and it seemed like pretty much a perfect afternoon. How could it not be, when he was learning things about his archenemy's culture? Things about aliens! And, besides, it was kind of fun spending time with Zim... once his ears adjusted to the decibles.

"I suppose…" he said finally "that it's my turn again, huh? I assume you're not interested in our science, right?" Dib inquired, pretty much knowing the answer.

"Of course not! The almighty Zim has laughed at your technology before, and he will do so again!" This statement was followed by a fit of maniacal laughter, as if to prove his point.

"Okay, moving on," Dib sighed, stood up and leaned against the small tree behind him. "Um, well aside from that, there's only… The Secret." Dib suppressed a giggle as he watched Zim's contact covered eyes widen.

"What is this secret? Tell it to meee…" The alien's voice dropped three octaves mid-sentence, making little grabby motions with his claw-like fingers.

"Alright keep your shirt on!" Dib tried not to sound too smug. "This is something no one knows except me, but I assure you, it's very true. I've kept it super secret from everybody, even myself--"

"Eh?"

"Do you want to hear it or not?" Dib gave him a critical look. Zim said nothing. "You see, a couple years ago, when my sister was infected with that pork spirit-"

"What?" interrupted the rather inept Irken. "When was this? What are you hiding from Zim!"

"I wasn't hiding it! How could you not remember? I came to you for help!" The pale boy rolled his eyes in exasperation. How very typical.

"You speak LIES!" insisted the thick-headed invader.

"Come on! It was in all the news papers!" Dib fell forward on to the picnic table. "You gotta know about this! It happened right here!"

"No, you're just crazy." Zim crossed his arms smugly.

"I don't need this from you too! I—I… Oh, whatever." When you have to deal with Zim on a daily basis, you learn to pick your battles. "The point is, we went to the alternate dimension of the demon piggy lord, or whatever his name was, and I bargained with him to set Gaz free and lift the spell. But in return I had to serve her punishment for her." The self-proclaimed paranormal investigator cringed visibly with the memory, and muttered something to the effect of "So... Much... Clogging."

Zim looked confused.

"But anyway, when my term of service was fulfilled, I got to talking with one of the lesser demons in the building. He wanted to know why I was there, and I said I was replacing my sister, the scary purple haired girl. Do you know what he said?"

"Waffles?" Zim decided to hazard a guess.

"What? Wait- What? No! He said 'That girl wasn't your sister!' and I said 'Um, I'm pretty sure she is, I saw my mom deliver her'."

Zim gagged for a couple of seconds before subjecting himself to the rest of the story.

"So," continued the boy, "The demon says 'Really? I could have sworn she was Gazeline!' and I said 'Yeah she is, that's her full name'." The human glanced over at Zim who was looking back oddly as though in some state of torpor.

"Gazaline?" The Irken mumbled, "…Coincidence..."

"What, that he knew her name? Actually, I thought so too," said Dib. "But see, that Thing looked at me funny and then he said 'I don't think she's your sister after all.' and I thought about it ALL the way back..."

Zim cocked a non-existent brow at his trench-coat clad companion.

"The portal dropped me off like a mile from the city and... never mind... It's just that, when I got home, I went on the internet and looked up 'Gazaline'. I got that stupid 'look-up-people-and-invade-their-personal-space' offer, but more than just that, I got an article from one of the paranormal sites I like."

Dib paused pensively for a moment, and then added: "Not that it really matters, but there was something else about some old book like 'The Hobbit' or something crap like that... I'm not sure what the connection is, but I think the author must have heard of the story..."

Zim fidgeted on the bench, scraping paste from the rubber of his gloves. That was not a normal reaction.

Dib gave Zim a hard look. "The story, apparently, was about some sort of a Minor God thousands of years ago. She, well I think it was a She, was the balance keeper of the universe."

Zim jerked his head a little, like a twitch. Yeah, this was definitely suspicious.

"According to the story, She was cruel and tyrannical in Her justice, so 'all beings below Her rose up and imprisoned the Goddess' (yes, that was a quote, Zim) in some sort of... prison... thingy... to be released only once every eon, through reincarnation. I dunno, somebody up there had a fit of mercy or something. Myths. Nobody has a clear motivation."

"What's an eon, earth-scum?"

"Well, it's... that is to say... I'm not really sure." The human scowled. "It doesn't show up anywhere with an exact measurement, so how do you expect me to find the scale? Pull it out my-"

"HEY! You will remain respectful in the presence of ZIM!"

"Yeah, whatever. In any case, I did to a bit more research and DNA testing," Dib allowed himself a small smile "And I concluded that Gaz isn't… quite… human. Man, that took work! See, apparently the spirit world can bypass human limitations--even biology! Did you ever hear of the Jesus guy?"

"Um... yes? Wait! Yes! He was the one they tortured because he didn't agree with the 'religion' of the time. Has no one realized he was only four feet tall? He was shorter than you, and you worship the loser!" Apparently Zim hadn't missed the lecture on "Height Before the Middle Ages".

"I'm not sure Christians would appreciate the loser comment, but that's the end of the story for the most part. However, the important part was the beginning. The story says that God gave his mother a child—Jesus--without ever involving a man y'see?"

"You humans are disgusting with your… disgusting… breeding!"

"Be that as it may, provided you take the story literally, it happened then... so it could happen again--namely with my sister." He sat back and waited to see if Zim would get the picture.

"Wha- oh..." It clicked, finally.

"In conclusion, I am not technically related to her—I guess you could consider it an adoption--and she's creepy like that because she's not even human." He shook his head knowingly.

"HA! I knew Zim couldn't be defeated by a lowly human!" The Irken exclaimed. "The mightiness of ZIM prevails over all mortal beings!"

"Ummm, yeah, sure." Dib rolled his eyes, "Plus, I'm not sure she even knows what she is. That obsession with pigs she has, probably comes from the Goddess's sacred animal being, of course, pig. Same with all the other freaky things she does. Jeeze, she's freaky. I think it's best if she never knows."

"Freaky indeeeed..." shuddered Zim.

"Yup. Now spill it! I want to know more about your people..." Dib went on, narrowing his eyes at the alien, "and why you seem to know who Gazaline was..."

TFT