The Pros of Adaptation

Author's Note: So, this is my first ever Invader Zim fanfic. Hooray for me! And hooray for you, because you get to read it. You lucky person you. Uh...the proceeding chapters probably won't be this long. Or maybe they will! Who knows? I dont.

Disclaimer: If you think that I own Invader Zim...I will fight you. Andthat is no lie.

---

The humans had finally begun to notice something was...a little strange about Zim. Oddly enough, they never noticed the fact that he was constantly screaming about taking over the world, or that he insisted on calling the humans a myriad of insulting names, and they never ever noticed everything that Dib had dug up about Zim. But by the time Zim had reached High School, people began to get a little suspicious of the fact that he never grew. He could hardly pass that off due to his skin condition. No ears, no nose, sure, that would fly. But as an excuse for staying three feet tall his whole life...that was pushing it. This was why he was now typing furiously at his master computer, coming up with a new disguise. But not just any old contacts, wig, hideous stuffed head disguise. Zim had managed to create a personal “Holo-Disguise Maker of DOOM,” which allowed him to design his very own disguise, without the use of needles and thread.

“The sewing...” Zim muttered to himself, while continuing the design. It wasn’t going very well. Zim, while quite the mechanical wizard, was never too big on creativity. So far he had come up with a nose. And not even a very nice looking nose. Suddenly, a noise came through the base.

“Not the doorbell again,” Zim said, looking up. “Do those hideous Grill Scouts NEVER give up! House!”

The House’s moving computer screen zoomed up to Zim.

“What now?”

Zim gave the floating screen a stern look before continuing.

“Tell me who is at the door. TELL ME NOW!”

The House-screen blinked for a second then came back on.

“Person at the door is Dib,” the house said with a sigh “Now can you pleeeease leave me alone?”

“Not until you get rid of the Dib-...golfer,” Zim said, turning back to the master computer. “I have no time for the meat-boy today...I MUST FOCUS!”

“I can’t get rid of him! No one can!” The House whined. “Really. No one.”

“Sure you can,” Zim said in a voice that was meant to be encouraging. “Just tell the human-garbage...”

---

“He’s dead?” Dib said, unconvinced.

“Uh...yep, he’s dead all right,” the screen continued. “Dead...that’s him.”

By looking at him you could tell that Dib had changed through the years. He was taller, mainly, and his head was little less gargantuan. There ended the changes. Dib was still obsessed with his paranormal research, even as a teenager, and was still obsessed with Zim. In fact, he had showed up at Zim’s house because he noticed (through his continued and relentless following and observations) that Zim hadn’t been out of his house for the past few days. And that was never a good thing.

“No he’s not,” Dib insisted.

“...Sure he is.”

“I’m coming in,” Dib said, pushing past the house’s screen and into the house.

The House sighed. He had years ago stopped trying to keep Dib out. Dib was Zim’s problem, not the House’s.

Dib strolled into the house, and lifted up one of the couch cushions and jumped in. The elevator took him down to Zim’s lab. He would find out what Zim was up to...or else...something.

---

Zim was still working on his disguise, when GIR and Minimoose came zooming in. When he thought back on that, Zim figured that should have been his warning that things were not going to go right. GIR and Minimoose always seemed to make things more complicated. This time was not an exception.

“ME AND MINIMOOSE PLAYIN TAG!”GIR screamed, jumping up onto the master computer’s control panel and jumping around on it.

“GIR! GET OFF! I’M WORKING ON SOMETHING NOW!” Zim screamed, reaching out to drag GIR off. Minimoose hovered by, not helping. The form on the computer was now rapidly changing. It finally stopped on a form, and the screen turned all white, booting something up.

“Cellular Reconstruction Thingy Activated! Form: Human.”

Zim stopped his screeching at GIR, puzzled.

“Cellular Reconstruction Thingy?” he thought to himself “Oh, yes, the Baloney Incident.”

“Computer,” Zim called out, unfazed. But before he could get out another word to the computer, robotic tentacles had come out of nowhere and grabbed him.

“Computer!” Zim screamed, losing his composure. But he was quickly stuck into a glass tube. Banging on the tube, he tried to get GIR and Minimoose to understand him.

“Loading chosen form,” the computer droned on. “Cellular Reconstruction beginning.”

The last thing Zim saw before the excruciating pain came was GIR shooting sparks everywhere, and waving at him, a happy smile on his face.

---

Dib heard Zim screaming even before getting off the elevator. Immediately he ran off, in search whatever was causing Zim so much pain. Dib wanted to be there to see it.

“Sounds like it’s coming from the Main Control Room,” Dib thought to himself, hurrying in that direction. He had been in Zim’s base before so many times that he knew where pretty much every room was.

By the time Dib had almost reached the Main Control Room, the screaming had stopped. The only noise was the sound of him running as fast as he could to catch what was going on. Finally he burst into the Main Control Room. Nobody was there. The place was definitely empty, and a little darker than it should have been. It was because the computer was off, Dib realized. He was getting a distinctly creepy vibe. He looked around.

“Zim!” He called out. “Are you still in horrible pain? I brought my camera!”

Nothing. He felt a little gypped. Here he had run all the way from the elevator, and nothing was going on!

“Oh well,” he said to himself. “At least I can find Zim’s new horrible plan without being bothered.”

Dib started busying himself poking around the room, investigating an interesting looking jar here and there. He noticed that the GIR robot was lying on the computer, amidst broken wires and buttons. The GIR was off, and lying on its side. The strange floating moose-thing was nowhere to be seen though. Besides those barely engaging things, Dib got nothing.

“This really was a rip off!” he said out loud. He looked around the room one more time, about to leave. But then, he noticed it. Some...thing in the dark corner of the room.

Whenever he thought back on that day, Dib wondered what would have happened if he had never looked back. His life probably would have been a lot easier, though when had easy ever meant interesting?

Dib slowly walked over to the mass in the corner.

“Zim?” He called out, without getting a response.

Finally he got close enough to realize what the thing was. When he did, he ran the rest of the way, and knelt over it.

“It,” turned out to be a kid, who looked Dib’s age, naked and curled into a ball. Dib could see that the kid was breathing. He reached down and pushed the guy so that he was on his back. At this, the guy groaned and his eyelids fluttered.

“Are you ok?” Dib asked.

The teen groaned again, and slowly opened unfocused eyes.

“Ung...” the guy muttered, coming to. “Whaa...agh...ow...hurt.”

“You’re going to be ok,” Dib told him, taking on an authoritative air. “Zim must have been experimenting on you. Funny, I thought he stopped that after...well. Anyways, how did you escape? Do you know what happened to him? Zim, I mean. I heard him screaming.”

Dib wondered if maybe he had begun his questioning too soon, when the other teenager looked at him with a very confused expression.

“What,” the kid said, starting to prop himself up “...are you...talking about Dib-stink?”

Hearing this, Dib’s mind screeched to a halt.

“Dib-stink?” he echoed. Nobody ever called him anything like that except for...

“Zim?” Dib asked, backing away from the kid.

“Duh, Ham-filth,” the Human-Who-Was-Zim said. “Ugh...my head...”

He reached up to rub his head. Zim’s hand froze when it came in contact with his hair. He made a face that Dib may have found comical had he not been attempting to come to grips with this new development. Zim wiggled his fingers in his hair, and then pulled on it.

“Ow! What...” Zim coughed, clearing his throat. “My...urgh...my voice...”

Slowly Zim brought his hand in front of his face. At the sight of his human hand, he let out a horrified yell. It was quickly silenced, as he turned to Dib, a look of pure hatred on his face.

“You!” He shrieked. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!”

“ME!” Dib yelled, indignant. “I didn’t do this! How could I have! Don’t you remember what happened?”

At this, Zim looked thoughtful. Angry still, shocked still, but now thoughtful too.

“You came to the door,” he started. “I told the computer to tell you I was dead, went back to working on my new disguise...then...” he put his head in his hands, clenching his hair. “Then...GIR!”

At this exclamation Zim quickly pushed himself up. When he was fully standing, he wavered in amazement.

“Mighty Tallest...” he whispered. “I’m...”

Dib’s mouth fell open.

“You’re taller than I am!” He yelled, affronted. Typical. The three foot tall evil alien who’s trying to conquer earth ends up being taller than he is. It was only by a couple of inches, but still... Dib figured should have expected it.

Zim absorbed this information with a wicked grin on his new human face. But the grin was replaced with the angry glare as Zim looked over to see GIR lying on the computer counsel.

“GIR!” Zim yelled, bending down and picking up the robot. “GIR! WAKE UP SO I CAN KILL YOU! GIR!”

Dib watched Zim with interest.

“Uh...Zim, I think he’s...”

Zim turned away from Dib, dropping GIR on the ground. Dib could hear him muttering to himself.

“Zim...this is ok,” Zim said. “You are still Zim...even if you are trapped in a HIDEOUS STINKY WEASEL FILTH EARTHY-” Zim stopped his maniacal tirade and went into a coughing fit.

“Ow,” he said weakly, grabbing his throat. “That is not pleasant. I know...I’ll just...HOUSE!”

Zim’s command was met with silence.

“I SAID HOUSE!” Zim yelled again. “Restart the ‘Cellular Reconstruction Thingy!’”

“Uhhh...” replied the house “who are you?”

If Dib hadn’t still been in a complete state of shock he probably would have laughed.

“Oh not this again!” Zim groaned. “House! I’m your master, Zim!”

“You sound like an intruder to me,” the house said warily. “And intruders are supposed to be ejected from the base. I’d suggest you leave. You probably should too Dib.”

“I shouldn’t be ejected!” Zim yelled. “YOU’RE MY HOUSE!”

The House gave an audible sigh.

“Intruder, what did I tell you about being ejected? Don’t make me get the cattle-prod. This includes you Dib. I just want to be left alone already!”

“FINE!” Zim gave up, throwing his hands in the air. “I’M LEAVING HOUSE! BUT I WILL BE BACK! MARK MY WORDS! I. WILL. BE. BACK!”

His dramatic exiting monologue was a bit marred by the yell he gave when the cattle prod hit him.

“I said I was going!” Zim yelled, and he stormed out. Dib quickly followed him after seeing the cattle-prod making its way to where he was standing.

It wasn’t until they were both in the elevator going up to the house that the full scope of the situation hit Dib. Zim was a human. Dib’s most hate and despised enemy, the enemy of the entire human race, was now part of the very thing Zim swore to destroy. And part of the very thing Dib swore to protect. Was Zim still an evil alien if he wasn’t an alien anymore? What was Dib supposed to do?

“Curse you moral quandary!” he said to himself.

Maybe he should approach this new-development from a more scientific viewpoint. He looked over at Zim and studied him. “Naked” was the first word that came to his mind to describe Zim’s new human body. After “naked” there was “tall,” then following that, “skinny.” Dib noted that Human-Zim had black hair, and that he was staring at the floor with a contemplative look on his face. Dib figured he himself didn’t look much different, what with the contemplating moral quandaries. And there it was again, the question of what he should do. He couldn’t just leave Zim all alone with no place to stay, could he? Zim was human now. He didn’t have a pack, he didn’t have metal legs, he didn’t have Irken healing, he wasn’t even an Irken, he was just...a person. A teenager, even.

The elevator doors suddenly opened, and Dib found himself being pulled out of his reverie. He noticed that Zim gave a little jump. They stepped out of Zim’s refrigerator, and started walking to the door. Before Zim could open it, Dib stopped him. He had decided what to do.

“Uh...here,” Dib said, taking off his trench-coat and handing it to Zim. “You’re still naked.”

“Huh?” Zim looked down and saw that he was, in fact, still naked. “Oh. Yes.”

Dib expected maybe a punch in the arm, perhaps a yell of “ZIM NEEDS NO FILTHY DIB-COAT!” Basically he expected anything other than the quiet way that Zim took the coat and put it on, pulling it tight around him. He opened the front door and walked out, leaving it open for Dib. The second the two got outside and Dib shut the door, a large metal covering fell over it, making any attempts to get inside futile. Not as though anyone was making any attempts.

Zim fell back against the door, and sighed. He started fixedly at the ground.

“What is this feeling?” he said suddenly. Dib looked at him, confused.

“Uh, what feeling?” Dib asked.

Zim chuckled a bit at that.

“Stupid Dib-filthy, if I knew what the feeling was, why would I ask you?”

Dib couldn’t help but get a little frustrated at that.

“Well, what does it feel like?” he asked Zim. Zim took a moment to consider it.

“It feels...like my belly is sinking to the ground.”

Dib thought about that. What feeling made you feel like your belly is sinking into the ground?

“Do you feel...sad?” Dib asked.

Zim looked up from the ground and into Dib’s face.

“‘Sad?’ Irkens do not get ‘sad.’ It is impossible.”

“But you’re not an Irken anymore,” Dib replied. He winced when he realized how callous he sounded. Then he winced again when he realized that he was worrying about hurting Zim’s “feelings.” Today just kept getting stranger and stranger.

Zim suddenly grabbed Dib by his shirt, and yanked him up to his face.

“Do not remind me Dib-human!” He hissed. But just as suddenly as his anger came, it left, and he let Dib go and sank back against the door.

“What am I going to do?” Zim said, more to himself than Dib.

Dib sighed. He already answered that question.

“Come on,” Dib said to Zim. “We’re going to my house.”

Zim looked back up at Dib, an extremely confused look on his face.

“Have you gone crazier dirt-weasel?”

Now that was more like a reaction Dib expected from Zim. Dib launched himself into his explanation.

“Look, you have no where else to go, you can’t even get into your own house. And you have no clothes. Except for MY coat.”

Zim stood up, but his suspicions got the better of him.

“How do I know you’re not going to...spring some hideous sneaky Dib-trap on me?” Zim asked.

“Zim,” Dib started, walking away from the house and to the street. “How could I have possibly created any trap that would require me to lure you to my house? Does that really seem like a likely possibility?”

Zim took a few seconds to think about that. He walked faster to catch up with Dib.

“I suppose you might be right...Dib-head.” Zim said. “Fine. I will go to your wretched filth-home. But only until I can get back to my regular, superior, Irken self.”

“In that case,” Dib replied “I wouldn’t let you stay anyway.”

“Good.”

“Fine!”