Note: Final story in the Green Angel/Red Eyes/White Demon series. Black Ties.

Pain. Throbbing pain in his antennae. His head felt like his brain meats had turned to rocks and were pounding against the insides of his skull. With a groan, he rolled over—and fell two feet to a cold, concrete floor.

Wincing, he cracked his eyes open, then jolted upright. He grabbed his head and moaned at the pain, but his eyes darted around. He sat on the floor of a five by five cell with an earth toilet and a cot. For a moment, he stared in bewilderment. There wasn't a room in his entire base that looked like this.

Look, see? Not crazy, it's a monster, a monster from another world! Do you believe me yet? Do you? He's been using kids like lab rats for years!

Zim bolted to his feet and rushed at the door. Pounding on it he began screaming, "No! No! Zim is no alien! Zim is normal, you cannot do this! I want a law-person. I need a law-person now. I deserve a law-person who knows the laws and can help Zim now! Your filthy televisions tell me I get a law-person, give to Zim!"

He shouted until he was hoarse, then sank slowly to the cold floor, clutching his arms. In the dim light, he could see his hands as they were. No hologram protected him. Any number of hyumans had seen him at this point. He was doomed. He lowered his face into his hands.

Doomed.

The door swung open, and a harsh light poured into the cell. Zim squinted, his eyes adjusting as a figure entered. Dib was taller than he used to be, and his hair zagged a few more times than before. The major change, though, was that he brandished a cane he tapped in front of him, and dark glasses shaded his eyes.

"So. I finally caught you."

Zim shivered, but plucked up his arrogance. "Took you long enough, you filthy sack of meat and hair. Even then you had to hire other people to do your dirty work, grab me and knock out my disguise."

Dib smirked. "Well well, the bug boy still has a sharp tongue. Don't worry. Once the courts are through with you they'll hand you over to the Swollen Eyeball. Humanity will benefit by pulling you apart to see how you tick."

Swallowing hard, Zim sneered, "Too bad you won't be able to see any of it."

Dib lunged forward, catching the alien by surprise. His fist seized Zim's shirt and hauled him up to eye-level. Zim kicked his tiny feet, dangling in midair.

Dib's voice was hard as he grated, "I may not be able to see what they do, but I'll be the first to put my hands in your guts and squeeze them to see how much pressure they can take before they explode."

Zim repressed a shudder. For a moment, fear pushed through the bravado. His antennae lowered, and he whispered, "I never hurt them, Dib. I took care of them. Nobody else was taking care of them. I gave them a safe place."

"Sure. A safe place while you ran all kinds of horrible experiments on them. Probably brainwashed them while you were at it. You're a terrible liar, Zim."

Zim lashed at Dib's arms with his claws, raking them across his trench coat. Dib dropped Zim in surprise, and the alien crouched, baring his teeth.

"You fool! You completely moronic specimen of your race! Why is it you were the only one who knew the truth about me being an alien, but you refuse to believe Zim is different? Are you that…" He trailed off.

Dib picked up his sentence, spitting every word. "Blind? Yes, Zim. I'm that blind. Or did you forget your little stunt in your backyard twenty years ago?"

Zim fell silent. Dib shook his head and turned to tap his way out of the cell. He called over his shoulder, "Don't bother asking for your rights. As an alien, you don't have any. Your trial will be quick. I can't say the same for your death."

They loaded Zim with chains so heavy he could barely walk. The second he tried to use his spiderlegs to support himself, eight guns were trained on him. Slowly, he retracted them, and continued his humiliating waddle.

Gasping for breath, he finally reached the courtroom. The guards, impatient with his progress, grabbed him by the arms and hauled him to his seat. Glancing wearily to the side, he noted that Dib and a strange man sat at a desk that looked like his, except he was alone at it.

"The court will now hear case 469, People vs. Alien."

"My name is Zim," he growled.

"The alien will refrain from speaking unless spoken to."

"Where is my representative? I want a law-person."

"As a hostile prisoner of war, you have not been appointed a lawyer."

"What if one appoints himself?" A new voice rang down the hall. Zim's head turned and his jaw dropped.

It had been years since he'd seen Tom. Occasionally Tom would send an archaic form of communication known as an email to let Zim know what was happening and how he was doing. They'd even gone to consume food together before Tom's career as a lawyer ballooned. Zim's antennae perked, and he swallowed back a welcome.

Tom dipped his head at Zim and winked, then turned to face the judge. "I'm sorry, your honor, I saw the papers the other day. They mentioned the alien hadn't had a chance to find a lawyer. I supposed this was an oversight, and decided to volunteer my services. After all," He grinned. "We can't have it be said that a visitor to this planet was received so inhospitably. Wouldn't you agree?"

The judge shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Dib. Dib's face had reddened and the man beside him adjusted his tie uncomfortably. Tom, on the other hand, tightened his own tie, and took a seat beside Zim. Turning Zim as if to discuss the case, he whispered, "Don't worry buddy, I got this. I'll get you out of this."

Zim swallowed, his eyes sheening slightly. "Thank you," he choked.

"Hey. Don't let them scare you. They've messed up bigtime. There isn't a law in the world that can defend what they did." He gripped Zim's wrist for a moment, the way the Irken had taught him was a sign of respect on Irk. Zim's claws wrapped around Tom's wrist as well. Breaking the grip, they both turned and braced themselves for the case ahead.

It had been foolish to hope, to think he could possibly walk away from this room free. It had only taken a few rounds of questioning and argumentation for the opposing lawyer to think of calling Tom to the stand. Caught off guard and bound to the truth, he was forced to admit his association with Zim as one of the first children taken in. Dib had immediately sprung up, howling that the man was obviously brainwashed and had no business defending Zim. The judge had agreed, and Tom had been hauled from the courtroom, bellowing and threatening. After that, Zim had put his head on the table and refused to move or speak, even when called to the stand.

All he could see from his despairing vantage point was the black tie the accusing lawyer wore. Black. Black was the color of death on this planet, if he recalled correctly. How appropriate.

Black. The color of Sadie's hair, the vivacious 8 year old he'd found digging through garbage just last week. Black, the color 13 year old Mark preferred to wear. Black, the pupils of every set of eyes that looked to him for help…

He barely heard the judge ask for closing arguments. Fighting his heavy chains, he struggled to stand on top of the desk, ignoring the click of a dozen guns pointing at him. Angrily, he shouted, "What is wrong with you? All of you! I found these smeets, do you understand? I found them in the worst situations! Situations you," he pointed at the judge, "You," the lawyer, "and even you," at Dib, "failed to protect them from. You talk about saving the Earth from an alien menace. You're all idiots. Did I want to destroy the Earth? Of course I did, it's what I was sent here for. Do I still hate this stinking rock? Of course I do! But I hate it for a whole new reason now. I hate it because people like you," he pointed to the judge and lawyer, "are stuck in little gray buildings letting guilty people go free and locking up the unguilty! And you," he snarled at Dib, "Are so busy chasing the past you forgot the people you were trying to save. They're right in front of you, you imbecile! What do you think is going to happen when they take me away? All the smeets will go back to the streets, back to their horrible existences. Or they'll go to another orphanage, another place of fostering cares, a different kind of horrible existence. I made it different. Do you hear me? I, Zim, cared for these smeets you say I experimented on. Every last one of them will tell you I never harmed a single one. Not one! And I—gaack!"

A guard grabbed him by the back of his neck and jerked him down off the table. The judge gave Zim a look of cold contempt and motioned to the accusing lawyer.

Zim tuned him out. He knew he was finished. His last tirade did nothing. Defeatedly, he lowered his head to the table again, and didn't move until the judge pronounced him guilty.