A Parade of Indignities

Chapter 11: Of Half-Baked Revelations and Fueling the Fire

Defective.

Dib couldn't pretend he didn't care...it wasn't possible. Not when he had set so much into motion. Not when he had repeatedly fed the flames.

He stopped for a split second, breath trailing from his mouth and gathering in a thick puff of fog. Then, suddenly, he burst into a full sprint, dashing down the sidewalk and against the pinpricks of snow against his face. Goosebumps appeared on his arms, even beneath his heavy coat. Flakes gathered on his glasses and he swiped them off his face, racing even faster down the street.

Somewhere along the way, whether it was from the very beginning or a slow burn in Dib's chest, he was coming to a stark realization: the alien meant something to him, and it was far more than a ticket to fame. And for now, that was all he needed to know.

His eyes began to water, but he wasn't sure if it was from the overflow of emotions coursing through his body or the icy wind against his face.

He could almost see it in the distance, that glowing green beacon, nestled between two apartment complexes in the cul-de-sac at the end of Greenbush Way.

He skidded on the ice and toppled over, scraping the heels of his hands against the pavement as he tried to break his fall. Without even giving it pause for thought, he scrambled back to his feet and continued forward, quickly shortening the distance between himself and the house

His hands stung and he could hardly see straight, but he made it to the front door and immediately began banging on it. Receiving no response, he jerked his body sharply to the right and pressed his hands against Zim's window, iced over from the frost. He breathed on it a little and rubbed the glass with one fist before peering inside.

Nothing. Not even GIR.

The living room was still and dark, and the television was turned off. The closer he looked, he could see the pile of blankets on the couch and the glass of water on the floor just where he had left it hours earlier.

Then, moving back to the door, Dib forcefully twisted the knob with one numb, scraped-up hand. Finding it to be unlocked, desperation melted abruptly into astonishment and he burst into the dark foyer, almost falling over himself as he did so.

He shouted into the darkness.

"Zim!"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Master?"

GIR poked at Zim's body, lying face down on the floor, then stared at him expectantly. He had found the Irken in the deepest sector of the base, the medical bay. He sat patiently beside him and tried to figure out this new game.

"...Master?"

When he didn't budge, GIR grabbed hold of one limp antenna and yanked it downwards like an old-timey doorbell. "Ding dong! Anybody home?"

Not so much as a flinch, even at the rough tug of his most sensitive organ. He lay in a heap on the large metal platform of his medical scanner, dim lights from his various monitors bathing over him in a delicate, mauve-colored glow.

"Are you sleeping? Huh?"

GIR leaned down on his hands and knees, pressed right against Zim's face. He was about to start poking at him again when he heard a noise from upstairs. It was the sound of heavy footfalls and a male voice, calling out something.

Leaving his spot from beside Zim, GIR dashed back towards the elevator.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───