The Story of Dib and Zim

Dib lay on his bed, his laptop out, watching a live camera feed of Zim and Gir as they watched TV. They were eating what looked like popcorn, except there was an Irken logo on the bag and the popcorn itself was an unnatural green color.

Dib had at least two dozen cameras set up outside Zim’s base and another half dozen set up inside. He always spied on Zim whenever he felt troubled. Or whenever he felt bored. Or just whenever.

As you can see, Dib was not a paragon of emotional stability. And he was definitely not well-versed in the complexities of relationship-type feelings. In his whole life, he’d only ever had three crushes. One had been on that Irken girl, Tak, the second had been on his brief, supposed ally, Mr. Dwicky, and the third was now on Zim. The first two had ended in agonizing heartbreak, and the result of the third still remained to be seen.

Dib’s rational side was telling him that the best course of action was just to kill Zim now, before this whole thing got out of control. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen. From experience, he understood that life without Zim would be dull and pointless.

Plus, there were all those brief glimpses he’d gotten of the other side of Zim, the side that was not obsessed with conquest and destruction. The side that was geeky and enthusiastic, that took Gir out for walks and gossiped about the neighbors. The side that, at this very moment, complained about the triteness of the sitcom they were watching and wondered why there was never anything good on TV. Dib couldn’t help but feel that this was the real Zim, and the whole “fearsome invader” thing was just some kind of elaborate pose.

But he couldn’t be sure. Not really. And that was the problem. He wouldn’t kill Zim in cold blood, but what would happen if killing Zim was the only way to save Earth from destruction? What would he do then?

It was a disturbing question.

Dib watched Zim wave his arms around in the midst of full-fledged tirade. Those arms, Dib reflected, had repeatedly pinned him down to the ground and beaten him senseless. And in return, Dib had pinned them right back and then battered Zim into next week. In more recent times, those same arms had wrapped around Dib in heightened passion, fingers digging deeper and deeper into his back as Zim made his way toward climax.

It didn’t seem fair that anyone could own as much of Dib’s heart as this.

Dib tapped a few keys and the camera zoomed in closer. He looked at the familiar furrow in Zim’s brow, at the deep liquid shine of his eyes. His throat closed shut and his mouth went dry.

He was worried, terribly worried, and not because he thought he couldn’t kill Zim.

He was worried because he knew that he could.

Dib watched as Gir began to fall asleep against Zim. The alien unconsciously moved his body a little, shifting Gir into a position that would be more comfortable for the little robot. Dib swore that he would find some way of getting past Zim’s defenses, of getting down to the real Zim once and for all.

He would do it for Zim’s sake as well as his own.