Disclaimer: Characters and settings are © Viacom.

- -- Abdicated -- -

Story by Bozeia, circa 2007.

The planet Earth, a spinning-ball-of-doomed-dirt as Zim so affectionately called it. The name, Earth, sounded strange on her native tongue. She remembered the name from somewhere, from an old databank if she remembered correctly. The planet had been discovered by the Nhar-Gh'ok which, apparantly, were more or less identical to human smeets. What a lovely mess that had turned out to be, according to Zim. It seemed he had an endless supply of stories to tell about Earth, and she guessed that was his way of trying to cheer her up since they were now stuck in the same boat.

Idly batting around a syrup-soaked bite with her fork, she could only suffice him half her attention. Irk knew he was loud enough to be heard all across the known universe, but at least he was trying. Earth itself, for it's part, had grasped the rest of her attention. Her eyes darted to and fro, anywhere but to look directly at Irk's greatest menace sitting across from her, as she surveyed the interior of the intrinsic little diner called Denny's.

She noted how predictable most groups of humans seemed to be. The waitresses talked at high pitch, fake smiles plastered to their faces. The patrons they served mumbled when they talked and generally made noise like monitor static. Perhaps she was assuming hastily but this was, it seemed, the status quo for wherever they went. It was always too disorganized, for her tastes at least. She had the grace of being very claustrophobic like that.

Her frown deepened into a grimace. Anxiety and other errant emotions were unbecoming of the mighty Irken Elite, who were to maintain their demeanor and focus at all times. She could only suppose that her social restlessness was due to the knowledge that, as far as she knew, she was one of only three Irkens on the planet. That, in any given military scenario, meant you were surrounded by the enemy and would be at an extreme disadvantage should your identity be discovered. Though, Zim had assured her that they had backup in the form of a paranormal enthusiast whom everyone was obligated to believe insane. Whatever that meant, but apparently the kid was in with the authorities on extraterrestrial foreigners…

"—so you'll have nothing to worry about."

Her head snapped up at full attention. "Wait…what?"

Zim gave her a searching look, one lens-covered eye narrowed at her with some small amount of exasperation. It struck her then that the Zim who could single-handedly annihilate the whole of his own home planet for misguided shits and giggles was not the same Zim who sat across from her now. "I said that you shouldn't feel so claustrophobic. The majority of humans you'll meet are harmless in their infinite stupidity."

She blinked, wide-eyed. "Did I actually say that?"

"…Say what, exactly?"

"That I was…claustrophobic."

He nodded his confirmation, and she groaned as she collapsed against the cheap upholstery of her side of the booth. Without thinking about it, she started to mumble out Irken curses from under her breath as she clenched and unclenched her fists in her lap. Her apparent nervousness did not go unnoticed by her fellow Irken. "Skoodge never did tell me why they appraised you as defective, Tenn."

His use of her name sobered her in a way she hadn't thought possible. He'd just said Tenn without the adding of any titles before it. Not Invader Tenn, or Drone Tenn. Just plain old Tenn. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought it a rather intimate use of her name. "You haven't guessed it yet?"

He looked, for all the world, as if he'd just been insulted. "Zim doesn't guess. Zim knows."

I'll bet. "Well…" she reached for her napkin and started to twist it, in order to satiate the unspeakable need to keep her hands occupied, "I failed my mission. Meekrob is still out there, free from Irken galactic conquest for the time being. And, and…um, well…the Control Brains had evaluated my mental and emotional states to be too…inadequate for their liking."

"Ah."

There, the napkin just ripped in half. "It's just, it's just…oh, shut up."

Zim threw his hands up defensively, but nodded as if he understood everything as he said he did. Tenn was begrudgingly sure he did indeed understand. He was maniacally imbalanced and a fellow exile. Surely his own mental state wasn't such a far cry from her comprehension. Perhaps he felt anger as well, which she could feel thriving just beneath the surface. A self-contained, intense anger that burned off her utter loathing for her current position.

She honestly wondered if it was indeed a sign of her emotional imbalance to hate what you would, without fail, always obey.

- -- TEMP FINIS -- -

A/N: An IZ drabble I did a long time ago, featuring a (slight hint of) pairing rarely seen but no less interesting. This has been on my LJ for ages now, but since reviews are not so forthcoming over there I decided to post it here and see what people thought. It's likely to remain a oneshot, unless inspiration miraculously takes hold of me.