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The fic this is for: Still Guilty [Invader Zim][This is a series! See all parts linked in standard or chronological order in the description, as well as the Google document link, and narration link.] --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------I did not feel comfortable doing this. But, Zim had insisted. Even on his knees at one point, he begged me. He wanted another trial. Not another Existence Evaluation. Those were no more. I was never going to let another irken be killed for being defective. I was never going to have another irken killed for any reason, even if they seemed to deserve it. The last time I wanted anyone dead was when I was confined to The Massive, after my life was changed. When I suffered the worst I’d ever had to endure. I was practically driven mad, I was so hurt and bitter. Furthermore, my PAK was still equipped with Marbog’s evil code. All I felt for a long time was nothing but fierce resentment toward my leaders, Red and Purple. And when Zim returned and threatened to destroy them, I had been thrilled. I stopped feeling this way when they actually were destroyed. I learned how to be just. And I knew I was still learning to this very day, just like everyone else here. We were doing this here on Irk. The system we had on Judgementia was shut down. That entire planet was being reconstructed for the homeless, especially those who were homeless due to the recklessness of our invasions. And the name, Judgementia was yet to be replaced. I had a sense of deja vu. Zim stood with me, on a platform higher than the one where a large cluster of our people watched, chatting amongst themselves, presumably about Zim, who calmly and meekly stared down at the smooth metal floor of what was a colossal military structure built for gatherings such as this. Discussing matters that concerned us soldiers. Former Invaders were to return to their conquered planets to make amends, and protect those planets when need be. This plan was known as The Rectification. Zim, though given an invading mission by mistake, was eager to participate. Word of this had gotten around, and irkens were anticipating that Zim would find a way to carelessly ruin this like he did many occasions. For the most part, they still thought him a menace. And a curse. Apparently, when the time to depart for our new mission was approaching, a small crowd of irkens had confronted Zim. One of them, Narr, was too direct, too big-mouthed, too inconsiderate. He told Zim to 'leave everything to the real soldiers for once.' He called Zim 'a curse.' And worst of all, he told Zim he might as well lay low for the rest of his life, and be respectful by playing dead, because his sentence after his Existence Evaluation was supposed to be death. He told Zim to 'play dead, and shoo.' GIR was also at the scene, and he retorted, defending his master, thankfully without becoming violent. Zim himself didn't argue, though, and instead came to me with sad questions, without telling me about the confrontation at first. He told me that the other irkens would probably feel safer if he was punished. I tried my damnedest to shake this belief from him. But he stood firm on it, no matter what I said back, and no matter how much I held him. My heart was more broken for him than it had ever been. I need everyone to make it a habit— an instinct to forgive, and if they are bent on continuing to have an issue with you, they are going to have an issue with me. This was something I had said to Zim during his first personal visit with me in my tower. And of course, it was true. Very slowly, I bared my teeth, and glared in Narr’s direction, which was enough to silence half the audience. The other half was silenced by a short but loud spark from my faulty PAK. Everyone including Zim had their eyes on me now. From afar, Narr swallowed, and cowered behind the irken in front of him. "Narr? Get... the fuck... up." My curse understandably caught everyone off-guard. It was very rare for us irkens to speak this revolting word with a revolting meaning, but its only meaning right now was, I was livid. And disappointed. "Tell me what we're doing here," I said to Narr. The terrified fool responded with a tiny shrug, biting his lip. "Alright then," I said. I looked down upon everyone else, beginning to pace back and forth, and wave my arms in furious gesture. "Someone has to tell me why we're doing this. Someone has to tell me why Zim himself wants me to humiliate him by placing him before you all and deciding on a punishment that you agree on." "This was Zim's idea?" I heard someone ask in awe. "Yes," came Zim's first word, as he kept his head bowed in respect and shame. "I want to help convince the universe that we're good, but I know that nobody trusts me to interfere without messing up. We need closure. Zim wishes to pay for everything he did to inconvenience those he's affected." "'Inconvenience,'" someone else in the crowd scoffed, clearly acknowledging this word as a choice too weak. "Zim wishes to pay for everything he did to hurt… those he's affected," Zim immediately rephrased. "And killed," someone added sharply. "And killed," Zim quietly echoed in agreement. "The Tallest killed us!" I hollered, cutting in. "Red and Purple! They killed so many irkens who did nothing wrong! Remember, we talked about this?!" Zim turned his head very slightly in my direction, eyes still to the floor. "My Empress… I… still hurt. I still killed. With all due respect, reminding us how much more someone else has done it… isn't... an... appropriate defense. It doesn't clean my own slate. Zim still did things. ...Zim is still guilty." "You're a Defective," I desperately croaked. "You’re ill! I can't punish someone for that!" "Zim is still guilty." "You were cast out for not knowing better. You… didn't know better." "Zim is still guilty." "You… That's not…" "No reason or excuse will ever be good enough, My Empress, no matter how good it is. It matters not what possessed Zim to do these things. Zim was still who did them. Zim still destroyed and hurt. Zim is still guilty." We were going in circles about this, just like back at my tower the other day. I had my arms up, facing outward. They lowered slowly as I stared at my little soldier in pity and defeat. Zim made eye contact with me, sorrowful and sincere. "Empress Syss,... you… changed my life more than The Downgrade." He faced me. "You were so… You're so…" His voice shook with emotion. "I will never,… ever… forget… the first time you told me to 'come here.' When you first held me, and spoke to me— the way you spoke to me… while you held me, after you said, 'Come here.' I was a stranger to these strong gripping feelings I got. And you listened to m-me… Held me some more… You worried about me. You told me to live. I wanted that kind of love so bad without ever realizing it until then. It's heaven to me. You loving me so much, and protecting me, I would never take it for granted. And I hate turning any of it down. But Syss,... you don't have to spare my feelings by completely defending my actions. We both know how horrible it was that I killed Red and Purple. We both know it was too wrong. And we both know that they were just as capable of changing like the rest of us were. I still think I killed two friends. You don't have to try making me feel better by saying they probably weren't good enough anyway. I know you don't really mean that." I silently stared back at this humble little soldier defending the two irkens he killed. He knew what he was talking about. I couldn't tell him he was wrong, and deny support for his integrity. I had to influence it further. I had to be genuine and responsible myself. For a few years, I helped Zim battle his guilt and shame, afraid that it would keep destroying him inside. I failed the last time he visited me in my tower. And I knew why now. Zim was strong enough to live with and own up to his mistakes peacefully, without spiraling into a state of depression so heavy that it triggers suicidal ideation. Though I was scared of convincing myself that this was the case and letting my guard down, I respectfully replied, "...You're right…, Zim. You're right, I didn't. ...I was aware that there was something wrong with how I said that then. Three years ago. And I suppose it is... true that I've been sheltering you too much from the blame for everything. ...I'm sorry. Your spirit was just so broken. I was determined to restore it however I could. ...I know I said some wrong things trying to do that." "And, you don't have to protect me from being disciplined," Zim gently said. "I know I need it." Squinting in anguish, I shook my head, but not in refusal. "Alright. Alright, Zim. I completely understand. I did say I would keep things as fair as possible. ...And I won't deny that you've done a lot. Personally though, for what it's worth, I still believe you've suffered enough." "I'm talking about a formal punishment," Zim said kindly. I quickly nodded. "Yes, right. That's what I assumed. You haven't paid for your crimes legally at all?" "No— Well…?" Zim thought aloud. "I was dragged back to Foodcourtia. But only for a bit." "You can be banished there again!" someone suggested too enthusiastically. Irkens murmured in agreement. "And… how bad was that?" I hesitantly asked Zim. "It was miserable!" Zim exclaimed. "Sizz-Lorr really let me have it. He even made me dance in a costume filled with sizzling hot grease. Yes! My Empress, you should banish me to Foodcourtia and let me stay for one Great Foodeni—!" "Enough," I warned darkly, after I silenced Zim with a stamp of my boot. "And wipe that smile off your face. I don't like how excited you are about suffering." "I'm not! I'm excited about what happens after. I get to return to Earth while feeling better about myself." "You're being hasty, Zim. I know I'm agreeing to let you serve a sentence, but do you really expect me to be okay with…" I did a double-take. "He made you do what?" Zim raised a hand in front of his face, dramatically wiggled his fingers, and lowered his voice. "The grease…" I raised a brow. "I don't think I trust this Sizz-Lorr fellow to be in charge of you." "My Empress. ...I can't think of a better way to do this. Moo-Ping 10 isn't good enough, it's a regular prison I would just be sitting in, and not working in. ...If I can't atone for my actions, nobody can depend on me." "Of course there's other ways. And of course we can still depend on you. You've changed remarkably. When was the last time you destroyed something you touched anyway?" "A cab I was trying to stop caught fire after it hit me and crashed into a nacho place just a few months ago." "Alright, fair. But that wasn't nearly as devastating as a worldwide blackout. And nobody was injured except for you. I doubt you'll jeopardize The Rectification. How would you do that?" "Destroy the universe?" said someone from the crowd of conflicted irkens. I scoffed, and rolled my eyes. Zim shrugged. "I birthed a florpus. I won't say it's impossible for my corrupt datapath to make me do something even worse." A former Invader named Tenn stood up on her PAK legs to get our attention. "Your corrupt datapath— Your defect is the reason why your PAK brain goes haywire and doesn't register everything clearly at times," she politely summarized. She briefly gestured to Skoodge, who was not far from her. "Like Skoodge said a long time ago, it can't be your fault if you were just born like this. It was the… whatever it's called, the machine that gives smeets new PAKs. And I honestly think it's useless punishing you if it's not going to fix you. There's still bound to be more occurrences, so what's the point?" I smiled appreciatively at Tenn. "...What if that wasn't a new PAK?" an irken by the name of Garfy said in wonder. In heavy awe, everyone seemed to take this into consideration. I did too. A quarter of the population had recycled PAKs from previously living irkens. Recovered PAKs that reverted back to smeet size after death. "M...Maybe it broke… before…" Skoodge faltered. I looked to Zim, who appeared to be fascinated, yet uneasy with this epiphany. I then averted my gaze to two Control Brains that had been hovering above us this entire time, waiting to speak when spoken to. "There's a way to find this out, isn't there?" I inquired. "Correct," the two brains said in unison. Zim's widening eyes looked up at them. "What? There's a way to find out what happened to Zim's PAK?" "I don't think that's what they mean," I said. "We can probably find out if it was recycled, but…" "Recycled PAKs have saved memories from their previous owners," the Control Brains informed. "They can only be accessed through our data cables." Zim quickly stepped forward with a serious, earnest expression. "Can you play them back like my own memories?!" "Possibly. But it would be a complicated process." "I don't care. I don't care, do it." "It has never been done before, and is not recommended." "Zim will be the first!" Zim raised his voice immediately, first throwing his tight fists behind him, then turning, arching his back to present his PAK to the Control Brains. "Do it! Do it now!" "Zim," I addressed my little soldier in a low, concerned, warning tone. Before and after The Downgrade, Zim was known to be overzealous to a fault. Eager, reckless, and determined. Usually ignoring anyone who tried to shake him away from his goals. But, he didn't ignore me. "Zim isn't easy to kill, My Empress," he confidently said. "Zim can handle this! All of Irk wants to know what's wrong with me, and so do I!" I felt sick to my spooch. "It's… No. It's not worth it. Did you hear what…? If the Control Brains say this is dangerous,..." "They said this hasn't been done before," Zim persisted. "We don't know what will happen. Please let me do this, My Empress. I have to know what's wrong with me." I couldn't keep the tremor out of my voice when I asked, "...What if this does kill you?" Zim glared sadly. "Then take care of GIR for me." This left me speechless, with my hand over my mouth. Zim lightly took my other hand and dropped to his knees. "Syss. Please. If this doesn't kill me, which, I'm sure it won't, this could be the answer to everything. If we discover what the problem is, maybe we can fix it. ...Maybe I can live a normal, curse-free irken." This was what slowly convinced me. After a minute of pacing in distress with my eyes shut, I reluctantly and regretfully uttered, loud enough for the Control Brains to hear, "...Very well." Zim gave a thankful bow, and warmly looked me in the eyes one last time before turning his attention back to the Control Brains. He pointed at them. "You see?! Permission granted! Gi'me the wires! Look deep inside the stupid PAK of Zim!" Acting upon my say-so, the brains obeyed, driving their data-reading cables into the side doors of Zim's PAK, and a thicker one I'd never seen into the middle. My pulse quickened. I wanted to take back what I said. Zim was risking his life. "Wait…!" I heard Skoodge say in concern. But it was too late for anyone to speak out. The Control Brains were at work. Zim trembled and surged, but not violently. Not yet. "Memories from a previous life have been detected," the brains soon announced. Irkens exchanged glances as they marveled and whispered. "So now what?" I asked. Still, my voice shook. "Preparing to play back the previous owner's final minutes," the brains said. My brow furrowed in worry, and my mouth hung agape. I heard irkens gasp. Were we really about to watch an irken's death that happened over a century ago? Blue electricity suddenly engulfed Zim's body for a brief moment. And when it vanished, there was a projection screen hanging before all of us, presenting only blue static. Zim was now standing upright, his back and antennae stiff. His eyes were big and wide, and they were wrong. The edges were still magenta, but in the middle, they were white.It was an alarming sight. It was as if Zim were possessed. He may as well have been. He began to speak the words of another irken, to an entity that wasn't there. "I'm just not sure about this, sir," were his first words in this state. Another quiet murmur from the crowd of other irkens, a confused one. We couldn't see what had happened through the eyes of this other irken upon the screen. Instead, Zim was unconsciously reenacting what had happened. Zim currently wasn't with us. An electronic, low-quality screech suddenly startled us all despite it not being that loud, as the screen displayed over the blue static, dark green words read in Irken. The message was largely scaled, which helped us read it with ease. I quickly understood that the words weren't truly visual in the memory, they only acted as subtitles from the Control Brains, for we could not hear the reply of who Zim spoke to. Only the glitchy screeches. The message read, Don't tell me you're afraid. Uncomfortably, Zim looked behind him. When he turned back, he furrowed his brow, and said seriously, "This is a mistake." Another screech. Saving our people is not a mistake. Zim took six steps forward, making nervous gestures with one hand, while the other remained in a nervously balled fist against his chest. "Of course not, but I don't think this is the answer. There's something wrong with those readings. They look… aggressive. Just what are you trying to turn us into?" No screech responded, and no words appeared. But something obviously happened, because Zim cowered a little, grimacing in fright. "Sir, please, don't look at me that way. I… I-I know you, you weren't… this disturbed before. You're a great guy." We then learned the name of who had Zim's PAK before Zim. No, Beo. I wasn't great before. If I was, Vickrigga wouldn't be dead. But once I establish this… When what I’m thinking is installed into everyone's PAKs, we'll all be great. I furrowed my brow, beginning to suspect something. "Wait… Wait…" "But what you think, these motives… It's reckless and unhealthy," Zim, or rather, Beo tried to reason. "Please, sir, hear me out. You must reconsider this. ...Please… There's something wrong with you. You're not thinking this through. This isn't greatness, it's… something else. Evil and ugly. Horrible. This is only another danger." I am saving us. "Saving us? Installing your passion to be what you call 'great' into all of our PAKs? That's trapping us! You're just spreading the pain you're in and nothing more! The universe will see how foolish and power-hungry we've become, and then—" The universe will see how strong we are. And we'll be safe for the rest of eternity. "This isn't going to keep us safe. This kind of control will lead to more war and death! This is madness!" If it's true, let there be war and death. Let there be fucking madness. It sounds exciting. The expression of terror that Zim then had was incredibly chilling. The sickened, hysterical stutters that followed made it even more so. "...U-Uh… I can't… do this. I refuse to be the first. No, I refuse to let this happen at all." Frantic anger joined Beo's fear. He pointed in front of him. "I'm going to tell everyone what you just said to me! Every word! You're a crazed fool! Vickrigga wouldn't want this to happen! She'd be horrified by what you've become, Marbog!" I couldn't have been the only one whose gut churned. The crowd of irkens emitted an outcry of dismay upon hearing the name of who Zim had been arguing with as Beo. That look of terror returned as Zim backed away, his eyes bulged, and his hands flat out in front of his chest, as if silently pleading for the nonexistent Marbog to keep his distance and calm down. The old leader must have had a look as menacing as the one Zim had given me right after we met. I assumed this because, obviously, Marbog was driven mad with grief. And Zim, Beo, was scared of him for that. Zim suddenly made a break for it, uttering a squeak in between his quick breaths. Reflexively, I was about to grab him to prevent him from running into something or pulling the cables, but I didn't need to. He collapsed with a yell, in a way as if he was tackled. He pushed himself very slightly off the floor, but he still failed to climb to his knees, even. He dropped back down. His nails scraped at the floor. It looked as though Beo had been pinned by a force I could only assume was Marbog. I had always thought Marbog to be as hefty as he was tall. I wanted to help, but what good would it do? Would it really be help, or would I actually be hurting Zim by disrupting this? What would be safer, letting the scene replay, or telling the Control Brains to end it prematurely? I was so worried about Zim, I almost missed the next words on the screen. It's unfortunate, how naive you are, Beo. ...Hold still. Zim bellowed, continuing to writhe. "No! No! I won't be controlled! You're turning us into monsters! I have to… tell…!" He let out a choked gasp, as he shot up to his hands and knees, then stumbled to his feet as his head whipped back. I thought I saw a little spark spit from his PAK. I softly cried out through the hand that was once again over my mouth. I knew something horrible was happening. I watched Zim lightly convulse in that odd standing position. I watched him struggle for breath as his mouth gaped open, his expression still pained, but more vacuous. As if he were being brainwashed and broken. And, as if he were dying. This had to have been the moment. I came to the conclusion that Marbog had installed the code by force, and that Beo was malfunctioning. I hoped that Zim wasn't. More words appeared, and another screech sounded through our antennae, the most furious one by far. Perhaps this was due to Beo's stress, and/or the strain being brought upon his PAK. Or it was currently happening to Zim. Or maybe the pain of both irkens were intensifying the distorted screeches. Pity. It seems the code has difficulty downloading when there's defiance. ...Well, now I know: anyone who refuses needs to be disposed of. What a waste. The fight lost from his demeanor, Zim gasped and pleaded through weak slurs. "Pl...ease… G-God… Oh, God… Can't… Gerwyn…!" He blinked, noticing something or someone from afar, and finding just over a modicum of the frantic energy he'd lost. He lurched a little, reaching out to this something or someone. Another screech. But the text was blue. Master?! Presumably Beo's SIR Unit arriving at the scene. "Gerwyn, don't!" Zim warned. "Get away from here, he's crazy! He'll get you too! He wants…!" If I hadn't known better, I would have thought the scream that followed was, not technically, but physically from another irken. Or from another creature. Never had I heard Zim's voice so shrill. This was something too traumatic to let continue. I was about to demand the playback be stopped, but I was too late. At the end of the scream came an explosion, not too overwhelming from a distance, but definitely so for the exploding irken himself. The data-reading cables were blown off. The projection screen abruptly cut to white. With the blast occurring from his PAK, Zim was thrown forward, so violently that his body ricocheted off the floor twice. After the harsh landing, to my already skyrocketing horror, Zim was motionless, sprawled facedown. I cried out for him, and I rushed to his still form. His PAK was issuing a strand of smoke, and at first, I only gingerly held out my hands as I fell to my knees next to him, chanting his name in a shaken whisper. I wanted to touch him, but I resisted it for his safety and mine, in case his PAK was seconds from rebooting. But I quickly became confident that there was no need for it to. I saw Zim take a breath, following another. He was unconscious, but not clinically dead. Though, I still waited. If Zim was brain-dead, or corrupted in some other way, the PAK would still restart. Twelve seconds was too short, but that was how long I waited when I dropped over Zim. I turned him over on his back, partly on his side. I gently slapped at the face I exposed. "Zim? Zim. Zim, wake up." My little soldier winced softly. I held my breath, hoping he would keep responding, hoping he wouldn't see his life clock, and hoping his memories and personality hadn't been distorted or erased. Being rid of his suicidal thoughts would be a blessing for him, but mentally losing touch with me or GIR would be considerably devastating. With both hands, I supported Zim's head, tilting it towards mine. It was when I patted his face another time that he emitted a tiny moan and blinked his eyes halfway back open. They weren't white anymore. The trauma hadn't destroyed their pigmentation either, like what happened to my own. They glimmered magenta, just the color I needed to see. "Zim…" I bit back the slight urge to ask if he was alright. It was obvious that he wasn't. I stroked his head, a few times over an antenna as usual. I was still worried. One portion of my mind even anticipated that Zim's PAK was going to malfunction the same way mine had. But moments passed, and nothing new happened. He suffered one quick blow, and I was fairly certain that it wasn't enough to cause any sort of permanent damage. For us, PAK trauma was much more effective than head trauma, so it was no surprise to me that Zim was slow to come around and completely recover. For half a minute, he made no attempt to get up, and only looked back at me wearily. When he did move, he quietly choked out in pain. I couldn't stand the sound he made. I couldn't stand any of this. I couldn't stand that this was even happening. I carefully took hold of him in both of my arms, and helped him sit upright. He leaned on me. He was quietly hyperventilating. He was shaking. I heard his teeth clicking rapidly. Anxiously, my voice broke. "Z-Zim… Zim, easy…" I would not let go of him. Not until he wanted me to. Not until he was stable. The look in his eyes, this two-thousand-yard stare told me that the playback was one of his worst experiences. Traumatizing and painful. And there was no blaming him for that. No other part of us was more personal than the PAK. Even though he hadn't known what was being seen or heard outside of his disorientated mind, even though he hadn't been able to comprehend it like the rest of us, Zim was having so much difficulty shaking off what happened. I thought about the last scream. That scream was just horrible. Zim had stared in the face of danger, valiantly demanding the playback of his final moments as Beo be let known to the irkens that doubted his remorse. With the mannerisms we were all too familiar with, Zim yelled and pointed at the Control Brains much like he always had with everything that tried to stop him from having what he wanted. Loud, proud, stubborn, and oblivious, with a buggy expression, teeth and tongue baring with every syllable. And with a crazed and passionate smirk when he seemed to trust that he was almost invincible. This was the original Zim we all knew, but not driven by vanity. It pained me to see that courage torn so violently from his soul in a moment's notice. Not five minutes later, he was back to being quiet and scared. Now delirious and in pain, trembling in my embrace. "Do you remember me?" I softly inquired. Zim replied in a feeble stutter. "S-Syss…" "And you? Do you know who you are?" "...I am Zim. ...I am Z-Zim. I am Zim. ...Zim..." "Alright, alright. Breathe. Breathe easy. ...It's over." I tenderly massaged Zim's shoulder as I continued to do what I always did: hold him close. He followed my instruction, inhaling and exhaling as steadily as he could. I was heartbroken by how long and hard he was shaking against me, but thankful that I was getting a movement at all. "What happened?" Zim finally inquired. I cringed sadly. "Oh, Zim… I think we just figured out why you're defective." "...What did I do this time?" Zim said in a monotone. I squeezed him tighter. "No, no, n-no, no… No. Oh, Zim… You wanted to save us." Zim didn't ask for details. He didn't seem to feel like it at the moment. I indignantly said to the silent crowd, without looking, "That does it. We're done here." But we weren't just yet. I remembered why we were gathered here in the first place. It still wasn't decided how Zim should pay for the trouble he caused. We were here in this room to satisfy the irkens that would rather have Zim "play dead" than be around him. And the alternate scenario in which Zim could have been dead from what had just happened just for the sake of everyone's closure and understanding threatened to make my PAK sputter out of control. And I lectured to anyone in this room who had refused to be civil towards Zim after The Downgrade, "...I wanted a fresh start. And a fresh start means we stop holding stubborn grudges! ...I know you're better than this! I'm trying to make sure of that! Why are GIR, Skoodge and I the only ones, the only ones on Irk who don't define Zim by his mistakes?! Have mercy, damn it! I've gotten to know him the past few years. He's… He's my best friend, right next to Eros. He's a friend, he's… he's a soul. ...A tortured soul, not to mention. Please… Please prove to me that you're better than this! Forgive all of who you consider your enemies. No more calculating how much they deserve what. ...Speaking of which, I'll just… After I have his PAK thoroughly examined, if all is well aside from the defect, Zim will be re-encoded as a Service Drone for three months. He'll be handing out beverages in my tower and The Massive, washing our ships, picking chewed gum off the seats of every snack place you know,... etcetera." I nearly retched at having to announce Zim's sentence right after he had suffered yet again. And, with that done, finally, I could end the damned trial. "...I said we're done here. You're dismissed." After another long moment of silence, I heard the other irkens beginning to depart, without a word, leaving me and Zim alone in the room. Later that day, after Zim was medically confirmed to be alright, irkens once again surrounded him. I saw this from afar, and watched, on alert. I relaxed when I realized that Zim's fellow irkens weren't berating him this time. I could tell just by their body language that they were calmly sympathizing with him, probably sharing their thoughts with him as well. He even received a hug from Tenn, finally from another irken other than me. ******Just days after Zim's trial, I sought his SIR Unit, who knew about the meeting, and about Zim generously and busily making up for his crimes with a spring in his step. What GIR had yet to know was that Zim had been murdered in a past life. At the nacho place Zim had mentioned before, little GIR was socializing with three other SIRs, and was in a mess. "Hi, prin-Syss!" GIR squealed, sending globs of cheese jetting in every direction as he waved at me. "Hello there," I said. My smile must have been too small, for GIR's fell. He left a trail of cheesy footprints behind him as he toddled in front of me, and uttered a questioning hum. The other three SIRs followed his lead, surrounding me with visible concern and interest in their eyes. "I'm sorry to interrupt, GIR," I apologized. "I just need to speak with you. It might be important." "Okey-dokey!" GIR accepted with a jolly grin before he followed me outside. The other SIRs understood that the matter was private, so they stayed behind. "Little GIR,... um…" I knelt down, solemnly looking into the SIR's bright blue eyes. "Do you… remember anything before your time with Zim?" GIR tilted his head at the question. He then pondered it in a goofy manner, mumbling, and changing position every single second as his scrunched face displayed just how hard he had to think. He abruptly gave up, and replied with his arms outstretched, "I really don't!" I pursed my lips, half of me amused, and the other half of me troubled. "Well, I was thinking… Your SIR Unit brain is a mix of more than one. Could that be the same case with your name? ...Is your name SIR and something else?" GIR nodded, stopped, looked away, then looked back and replaced his nod with a shrug. "I may have an idea of where the G comes from," I said. "Goulash?" GIR guessed, leaning forward. "Not quite. ...Does… Gerwyn sound familiar?" As if it did, GIR gasped, but an instant later, he stuck his tongue out and shook his head. This was likely for the best if the theory I had in mind was correct. I softly smiled back at what was possibly half of Beo's old SIR Unit, and then, I dismissed him. I would let him finish exhausting himself for the day before I made him fret about his exploding master. In awe, I thought about how marvelous it would be if Beo and Gerwyn had unknowingly reunited a century and a half later.

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The fic this is for: Still Guilty [Invader Zim][This is a series! See all parts linked in standard or chronological order in the description, as well as the Google document link, and narration link.] --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------I did not feel comfortable doing this. But, Zim had insisted. Even on his knees at one point, he begged me. He wanted another trial. Not another Existence Evaluation. Those were no more. I was never going to let another irken be killed for being defective. I was never going to have another irken killed for any reason, even if they seemed to deserve it. The last time I wanted anyone dead was when I was confined to The Massive, after my life was changed. When I suffered the worst I’d ever had to endure. I was practically driven mad, I was so hurt and bitter. Furthermore, my PAK was still equipped with Marbog’s evil code. All I felt for a long time was nothing but fierce resentment toward my leaders, Red and Purple. And when Zim returned and threatened to destroy them, I had been thrilled. I stopped feeling this way when they actually were destroyed. I learned how to be just. And I knew I was still learning to this very day, just like everyone else here. We were doing this here on Irk. The system we had on Judgementia was shut down. That entire planet was being reconstructed for the homeless, especially those who were homeless due to the recklessness of our invasions. And the name, Judgementia was yet to be replaced. I had a sense of deja vu. Zim stood with me, on a platform higher than the one where a large cluster of our people watched, chatting amongst themselves, presumably about Zim, who calmly and meekly stared down at the smooth metal floor of what was a colossal military structure built for gatherings such as this. Discussing matters that concerned us soldiers. Former Invaders were to return to their conquered planets to make amends, and protect those planets when need be. This plan was known as The Rectification. Zim, though given an invading mission by mistake, was eager to participate. Word of this had gotten around, and irkens were anticipating that Zim would find a way to carelessly ruin this like he did many occasions. For the most part, they still thought him a menace. And a curse. Apparently, when the time to depart for our new mission was approaching, a small crowd of irkens had confronted Zim. One of them, Narr, was too direct, too big-mouthed, too inconsiderate. He told Zim to 'leave everything to the real soldiers for once.' He called Zim 'a curse.' And worst of all, he told Zim he might as well lay low for the rest of his life, and be respectful by playing dead, because his sentence after his Existence Evaluation was supposed to be death. He told Zim to 'play dead, and shoo.' GIR was also at the scene, and he retorted, defending his master, thankfully without becoming violent. Zim himself didn't argue, though, and instead came to me with sad questions, without telling me about the confrontation at first. He told me that the other irkens would probably feel safer if he was punished. I tried my damnedest to shake this belief from him. But he stood firm on it, no matter what I said back, and no matter how much I held him. My heart was more broken for him than it had ever been. I need everyone to make it a habit— an instinct to forgive, and if they are bent on continuing to have an issue with you, they are going to have an issue with me. This was something I had said to Zim during his first personal visit with me in my tower. And of course, it was true. Very slowly, I bared my teeth, and glared in Narr’s direction, which was enough to silence half the audience. The other half was silenced by a short but loud spark from my faulty PAK. Everyone including Zim had their eyes on me now. From afar, Narr swallowed, and cowered behind the irken in front of him. "Narr? Get... the fuck... up." My curse understandably caught everyone off-guard. It was very rare for us irkens to speak this revolting word with a revolting meaning, but its only meaning right now was, I was livid. And disappointed. "Tell me what we're doing here," I said to Narr. The terrified fool responded with a tiny shrug, biting his lip. "Alright then," I said. I looked down upon everyone else, beginning to pace back and forth, and wave my arms in furious gesture. "Someone has to tell me why we're doing this. Someone has to tell me why Zim himself wants me to humiliate him by placing him before you all and deciding on a punishment that you agree on." "This was Zim's idea?" I heard someone ask in awe. "Yes," came Zim's first word, as he kept his head bowed in respect and shame. "I want to help convince the universe that we're good, but I know that nobody trusts me to interfere without messing up. We need closure. Zim wishes to pay for everything he did to inconvenience those he's affected." "'Inconvenience,'" someone else in the crowd scoffed, clearly acknowledging this word as a choice too weak. "Zim wishes to pay for everything he did to hurt… those he's affected," Zim immediately rephrased. "And killed," someone added sharply. "And killed," Zim quietly echoed in agreement. "The Tallest killed us!" I hollered, cutting in. "Red and Purple! They killed so many irkens who did nothing wrong! Remember, we talked about this?!" Zim turned his head very slightly in my direction, eyes still to the floor. "My Empress… I… still hurt. I still killed. With all due respect, reminding us how much more someone else has done it… isn't... an... appropriate defense. It doesn't clean my own slate. Zim still did things. ...Zim is still guilty." "You're a Defective," I desperately croaked. "You’re ill! I can't punish someone for that!" "Zim is still guilty." "You were cast out for not knowing better. You… didn't know better." "Zim is still guilty." "You… That's not…" "No reason or excuse will ever be good enough, My Empress, no matter how good it is. It matters not what possessed Zim to do these things. Zim was still who did them. Zim still destroyed and hurt. Zim is still guilty." We were going in circles about this, just like back at my tower the other day. I had my arms up, facing outward. They lowered slowly as I stared at my little soldier in pity and defeat. Zim made eye contact with me, sorrowful and sincere. "Empress Syss,... you… changed my life more than The Downgrade." He faced me. "You were so… You're so…" His voice shook with emotion. "I will never,… ever… forget… the first time you told me to 'come here.' When you first held me, and spoke to me— the way you spoke to me… while you held me, after you said, 'Come here.' I was a stranger to these strong gripping feelings I got. And you listened to m-me… Held me some more… You worried about me. You told me to live. I wanted that kind of love so bad without ever realizing it until then. It's heaven to me. You loving me so much, and protecting me, I would never take it for granted. And I hate turning any of it down. But Syss,... you don't have to spare my feelings by completely defending my actions. We both know how horrible it was that I killed Red and Purple. We both know it was too wrong. And we both know that they were just as capable of changing like the rest of us were. I still think I killed two friends. You don't have to try making me feel better by saying they probably weren't good enough anyway. I know you don't really mean that." I silently stared back at this humble little soldier defending the two irkens he killed. He knew what he was talking about. I couldn't tell him he was wrong, and deny support for his integrity. I had to influence it further. I had to be genuine and responsible myself. For a few years, I helped Zim battle his guilt and shame, afraid that it would keep destroying him inside. I failed the last time he visited me in my tower. And I knew why now. Zim was strong enough to live with and own up to his mistakes peacefully, without spiraling into a state of depression so heavy that it triggers suicidal ideation. Though I was scared of convincing myself that this was the case and letting my guard down, I respectfully replied, "...You're right…, Zim. You're right, I didn't. ...I was aware that there was something wrong with how I said that then. Three years ago. And I suppose it is... true that I've been sheltering you too much from the blame for everything. ...I'm sorry. Your spirit was just so broken. I was determined to restore it however I could. ...I know I said some wrong things trying to do that." "And, you don't have to protect me from being disciplined," Zim gently said. "I know I need it." Squinting in anguish, I shook my head, but not in refusal. "Alright. Alright, Zim. I completely understand. I did say I would keep things as fair as possible. ...And I won't deny that you've done a lot. Personally though, for what it's worth, I still believe you've suffered enough." "I'm talking about a formal punishment," Zim said kindly. I quickly nodded. "Yes, right. That's what I assumed. You haven't paid for your crimes legally at all?" "No— Well…?" Zim thought aloud. "I was dragged back to Foodcourtia. But only for a bit." "You can be banished there again!" someone suggested too enthusiastically. Irkens murmured in agreement. "And… how bad was that?" I hesitantly asked Zim. "It was miserable!" Zim exclaimed. "Sizz-Lorr really let me have it. He even made me dance in a costume filled with sizzling hot grease. Yes! My Empress, you should banish me to Foodcourtia and let me stay for one Great Foodeni—!" "Enough," I warned darkly, after I silenced Zim with a stamp of my boot. "And wipe that smile off your face. I don't like how excited you are about suffering." "I'm not! I'm excited about what happens after. I get to return to Earth while feeling better about myself." "You're being hasty, Zim. I know I'm agreeing to let you serve a sentence, but do you really expect me to be okay with…" I did a double-take. "He made you do what?" Zim raised a hand in front of his face, dramatically wiggled his fingers, and lowered his voice. "The grease…" I raised a brow. "I don't think I trust this Sizz-Lorr fellow to be in charge of you." "My Empress. ...I can't think of a better way to do this. Moo-Ping 10 isn't good enough, it's a regular prison I would just be sitting in, and not working in. ...If I can't atone for my actions, nobody can depend on me." "Of course there's other ways. And of course we can still depend on you. You've changed remarkably. When was the last time you destroyed something you touched anyway?" "A cab I was trying to stop caught fire after it hit me and crashed into a nacho place just a few months ago." "Alright, fair. But that wasn't nearly as devastating as a worldwide blackout. And nobody was injured except for you. I doubt you'll jeopardize The Rectification. How would you do that?" "Destroy the universe?" said someone from the crowd of conflicted irkens. I scoffed, and rolled my eyes. Zim shrugged. "I birthed a florpus. I won't say it's impossible for my corrupt datapath to make me do something even worse." A former Invader named Tenn stood up on her PAK legs to get our attention. "Your corrupt datapath— Your defect is the reason why your PAK brain goes haywire and doesn't register everything clearly at times," she politely summarized. She briefly gestured to Skoodge, who was not far from her. "Like Skoodge said a long time ago, it can't be your fault if you were just born like this. It was the… whatever it's called, the machine that gives smeets new PAKs. And I honestly think it's useless punishing you if it's not going to fix you. There's still bound to be more occurrences, so what's the point?" I smiled appreciatively at Tenn. "...What if that wasn't a new PAK?" an irken by the name of Garfy said in wonder. In heavy awe, everyone seemed to take this into consideration. I did too. A quarter of the population had recycled PAKs from previously living irkens. Recovered PAKs that reverted back to smeet size after death. "M...Maybe it broke… before…" Skoodge faltered. I looked to Zim, who appeared to be fascinated, yet uneasy with this epiphany. I then averted my gaze to two Control Brains that had been hovering above us this entire time, waiting to speak when spoken to. "There's a way to find this out, isn't there?" I inquired. "Correct," the two brains said in unison. Zim's widening eyes looked up at them. "What? There's a way to find out what happened to Zim's PAK?" "I don't think that's what they mean," I said. "We can probably find out if it was recycled, but…" "Recycled PAKs have saved memories from their previous owners," the Control Brains informed. "They can only be accessed through our data cables." Zim quickly stepped forward with a serious, earnest expression. "Can you play them back like my own memories?!" "Possibly. But it would be a complicated process." "I don't care. I don't care, do it." "It has never been done before, and is not recommended." "Zim will be the first!" Zim raised his voice immediately, first throwing his tight fists behind him, then turning, arching his back to present his PAK to the Control Brains. "Do it! Do it now!" "Zim," I addressed my little soldier in a low, concerned, warning tone. Before and after The Downgrade, Zim was known to be overzealous to a fault. Eager, reckless, and determined. Usually ignoring anyone who tried to shake him away from his goals. But, he didn't ignore me. "Zim isn't easy to kill, My Empress," he confidently said. "Zim can handle this! All of Irk wants to know what's wrong with me, and so do I!" I felt sick to my spooch. "It's… No. It's not worth it. Did you hear what…? If the Control Brains say this is dangerous,..." "They said this hasn't been done before," Zim persisted. "We don't know what will happen. Please let me do this, My Empress. I have to know what's wrong with me." I couldn't keep the tremor out of my voice when I asked, "...What if this does kill you?" Zim glared sadly. "Then take care of GIR for me." This left me speechless, with my hand over my mouth. Zim lightly took my other hand and dropped to his knees. "Syss. Please. If this doesn't kill me, which, I'm sure it won't, this could be the answer to everything. If we discover what the problem is, maybe we can fix it. ...Maybe I can live a normal, curse-free irken." This was what slowly convinced me. After a minute of pacing in distress with my eyes shut, I reluctantly and regretfully uttered, loud enough for the Control Brains to hear, "...Very well." Zim gave a thankful bow, and warmly looked me in the eyes one last time before turning his attention back to the Control Brains. He pointed at them. "You see?! Permission granted! Gi'me the wires! Look deep inside the stupid PAK of Zim!" Acting upon my say-so, the brains obeyed, driving their data-reading cables into the side doors of Zim's PAK, and a thicker one I'd never seen into the middle. My pulse quickened. I wanted to take back what I said. Zim was risking his life. "Wait…!" I heard Skoodge say in concern. But it was too late for anyone to speak out. The Control Brains were at work. Zim trembled and surged, but not violently. Not yet. "Memories from a previous life have been detected," the brains soon announced. Irkens exchanged glances as they marveled and whispered. "So now what?" I asked. Still, my voice shook. "Preparing to play back the previous owner's final minutes," the brains said. My brow furrowed in worry, and my mouth hung agape. I heard irkens gasp. Were we really about to watch an irken's death that happened over a century ago? Blue electricity suddenly engulfed Zim's body for a brief moment. And when it vanished, there was a projection screen hanging before all of us, presenting only blue static. Zim was now standing upright, his back and antennae stiff. His eyes were big and wide, and they were wrong. The edges were still magenta, but in the middle, they were white.It was an alarming sight. It was as if Zim were possessed. He may as well have been. He began to speak the words of another irken, to an entity that wasn't there. "I'm just not sure about this, sir," were his first words in this state. Another quiet murmur from the crowd of other irkens, a confused one. We couldn't see what had happened through the eyes of this other irken upon the screen. Instead, Zim was unconsciously reenacting what had happened. Zim currently wasn't with us. An electronic, low-quality screech suddenly startled us all despite it not being that loud, as the screen displayed over the blue static, dark green words read in Irken. The message was largely scaled, which helped us read it with ease. I quickly understood that the words weren't truly visual in the memory, they only acted as subtitles from the Control Brains, for we could not hear the reply of who Zim spoke to. Only the glitchy screeches. The message read, Don't tell me you're afraid. Uncomfortably, Zim looked behind him. When he turned back, he furrowed his brow, and said seriously, "This is a mistake." Another screech. Saving our people is not a mistake. Zim took six steps forward, making nervous gestures with one hand, while the other remained in a nervously balled fist against his chest. "Of course not, but I don't think this is the answer. There's something wrong with those readings. They look… aggressive. Just what are you trying to turn us into?" No screech responded, and no words appeared. But something obviously happened, because Zim cowered a little, grimacing in fright. "Sir, please, don't look at me that way. I… I-I know you, you weren't… this disturbed before. You're a great guy." We then learned the name of who had Zim's PAK before Zim. No, Beo. I wasn't great before. If I was, Vickrigga wouldn't be dead. But once I establish this… When what I’m thinking is installed into everyone's PAKs, we'll all be great. I furrowed my brow, beginning to suspect something. "Wait… Wait…" "But what you think, these motives… It's reckless and unhealthy," Zim, or rather, Beo tried to reason. "Please, sir, hear me out. You must reconsider this. ...Please… There's something wrong with you. You're not thinking this through. This isn't greatness, it's… something else. Evil and ugly. Horrible. This is only another danger." I am saving us. "Saving us? Installing your passion to be what you call 'great' into all of our PAKs? That's trapping us! You're just spreading the pain you're in and nothing more! The universe will see how foolish and power-hungry we've become, and then—" The universe will see how strong we are. And we'll be safe for the rest of eternity. "This isn't going to keep us safe. This kind of control will lead to more war and death! This is madness!" If it's true, let there be war and death. Let there be fucking madness. It sounds exciting. The expression of terror that Zim then had was incredibly chilling. The sickened, hysterical stutters that followed made it even more so. "...U-Uh… I can't… do this. I refuse to be the first. No, I refuse to let this happen at all." Frantic anger joined Beo's fear. He pointed in front of him. "I'm going to tell everyone what you just said to me! Every word! You're a crazed fool! Vickrigga wouldn't want this to happen! She'd be horrified by what you've become, Marbog!" I couldn't have been the only one whose gut churned. The crowd of irkens emitted an outcry of dismay upon hearing the name of who Zim had been arguing with as Beo. That look of terror returned as Zim backed away, his eyes bulged, and his hands flat out in front of his chest, as if silently pleading for the nonexistent Marbog to keep his distance and calm down. The old leader must have had a look as menacing as the one Zim had given me right after we met. I assumed this because, obviously, Marbog was driven mad with grief. And Zim, Beo, was scared of him for that. Zim suddenly made a break for it, uttering a squeak in between his quick breaths. Reflexively, I was about to grab him to prevent him from running into something or pulling the cables, but I didn't need to. He collapsed with a yell, in a way as if he was tackled. He pushed himself very slightly off the floor, but he still failed to climb to his knees, even. He dropped back down. His nails scraped at the floor. It looked as though Beo had been pinned by a force I could only assume was Marbog. I had always thought Marbog to be as hefty as he was tall. I wanted to help, but what good would it do? Would it really be help, or would I actually be hurting Zim by disrupting this? What would be safer, letting the scene replay, or telling the Control Brains to end it prematurely? I was so worried about Zim, I almost missed the next words on the screen. It's unfortunate, how naive you are, Beo. ...Hold still. Zim bellowed, continuing to writhe. "No! No! I won't be controlled! You're turning us into monsters! I have to… tell…!" He let out a choked gasp, as he shot up to his hands and knees, then stumbled to his feet as his head whipped back. I thought I saw a little spark spit from his PAK. I softly cried out through the hand that was once again over my mouth. I knew something horrible was happening. I watched Zim lightly convulse in that odd standing position. I watched him struggle for breath as his mouth gaped open, his expression still pained, but more vacuous. As if he were being brainwashed and broken. And, as if he were dying. This had to have been the moment. I came to the conclusion that Marbog had installed the code by force, and that Beo was malfunctioning. I hoped that Zim wasn't. More words appeared, and another screech sounded through our antennae, the most furious one by far. Perhaps this was due to Beo's stress, and/or the strain being brought upon his PAK. Or it was currently happening to Zim. Or maybe the pain of both irkens were intensifying the distorted screeches. Pity. It seems the code has difficulty downloading when there's defiance. ...Well, now I know: anyone who refuses needs to be disposed of. What a waste. The fight lost from his demeanor, Zim gasped and pleaded through weak slurs. "Pl...ease… G-God… Oh, God… Can't… Gerwyn…!" He blinked, noticing something or someone from afar, and finding just over a modicum of the frantic energy he'd lost. He lurched a little, reaching out to this something or someone. Another screech. But the text was blue. Master?! Presumably Beo's SIR Unit arriving at the scene. "Gerwyn, don't!" Zim warned. "Get away from here, he's crazy! He'll get you too! He wants…!" If I hadn't known better, I would have thought the scream that followed was, not technically, but physically from another irken. Or from another creature. Never had I heard Zim's voice so shrill. This was something too traumatic to let continue. I was about to demand the playback be stopped, but I was too late. At the end of the scream came an explosion, not too overwhelming from a distance, but definitely so for the exploding irken himself. The data-reading cables were blown off. The projection screen abruptly cut to white. With the blast occurring from his PAK, Zim was thrown forward, so violently that his body ricocheted off the floor twice. After the harsh landing, to my already skyrocketing horror, Zim was motionless, sprawled facedown. I cried out for him, and I rushed to his still form. His PAK was issuing a strand of smoke, and at first, I only gingerly held out my hands as I fell to my knees next to him, chanting his name in a shaken whisper. I wanted to touch him, but I resisted it for his safety and mine, in case his PAK was seconds from rebooting. But I quickly became confident that there was no need for it to. I saw Zim take a breath, following another. He was unconscious, but not clinically dead. Though, I still waited. If Zim was brain-dead, or corrupted in some other way, the PAK would still restart. Twelve seconds was too short, but that was how long I waited when I dropped over Zim. I turned him over on his back, partly on his side. I gently slapped at the face I exposed. "Zim? Zim. Zim, wake up." My little soldier winced softly. I held my breath, hoping he would keep responding, hoping he wouldn't see his life clock, and hoping his memories and personality hadn't been distorted or erased. Being rid of his suicidal thoughts would be a blessing for him, but mentally losing touch with me or GIR would be considerably devastating. With both hands, I supported Zim's head, tilting it towards mine. It was when I patted his face another time that he emitted a tiny moan and blinked his eyes halfway back open. They weren't white anymore. The trauma hadn't destroyed their pigmentation either, like what happened to my own. They glimmered magenta, just the color I needed to see. "Zim…" I bit back the slight urge to ask if he was alright. It was obvious that he wasn't. I stroked his head, a few times over an antenna as usual. I was still worried. One portion of my mind even anticipated that Zim's PAK was going to malfunction the same way mine had. But moments passed, and nothing new happened. He suffered one quick blow, and I was fairly certain that it wasn't enough to cause any sort of permanent damage. For us, PAK trauma was much more effective than head trauma, so it was no surprise to me that Zim was slow to come around and completely recover. For half a minute, he made no attempt to get up, and only looked back at me wearily. When he did move, he quietly choked out in pain. I couldn't stand the sound he made. I couldn't stand any of this. I couldn't stand that this was even happening. I carefully took hold of him in both of my arms, and helped him sit upright. He leaned on me. He was quietly hyperventilating. He was shaking. I heard his teeth clicking rapidly. Anxiously, my voice broke. "Z-Zim… Zim, easy…" I would not let go of him. Not until he wanted me to. Not until he was stable. The look in his eyes, this two-thousand-yard stare told me that the playback was one of his worst experiences. Traumatizing and painful. And there was no blaming him for that. No other part of us was more personal than the PAK. Even though he hadn't known what was being seen or heard outside of his disorientated mind, even though he hadn't been able to comprehend it like the rest of us, Zim was having so much difficulty shaking off what happened. I thought about the last scream. That scream was just horrible. Zim had stared in the face of danger, valiantly demanding the playback of his final moments as Beo be let known to the irkens that doubted his remorse. With the mannerisms we were all too familiar with, Zim yelled and pointed at the Control Brains much like he always had with everything that tried to stop him from having what he wanted. Loud, proud, stubborn, and oblivious, with a buggy expression, teeth and tongue baring with every syllable. And with a crazed and passionate smirk when he seemed to trust that he was almost invincible. This was the original Zim we all knew, but not driven by vanity. It pained me to see that courage torn so violently from his soul in a moment's notice. Not five minutes later, he was back to being quiet and scared. Now delirious and in pain, trembling in my embrace. "Do you remember me?" I softly inquired. Zim replied in a feeble stutter. "S-Syss…" "And you? Do you know who you are?" "...I am Zim. ...I am Z-Zim. I am Zim. ...Zim..." "Alright, alright. Breathe. Breathe easy. ...It's over." I tenderly massaged Zim's shoulder as I continued to do what I always did: hold him close. He followed my instruction, inhaling and exhaling as steadily as he could. I was heartbroken by how long and hard he was shaking against me, but thankful that I was getting a movement at all. "What happened?" Zim finally inquired. I cringed sadly. "Oh, Zim… I think we just figured out why you're defective." "...What did I do this time?" Zim said in a monotone. I squeezed him tighter. "No, no, n-no, no… No. Oh, Zim… You wanted to save us." Zim didn't ask for details. He didn't seem to feel like it at the moment. I indignantly said to the silent crowd, without looking, "That does it. We're done here." But we weren't just yet. I remembered why we were gathered here in the first place. It still wasn't decided how Zim should pay for the trouble he caused. We were here in this room to satisfy the irkens that would rather have Zim "play dead" than be around him. And the alternate scenario in which Zim could have been dead from what had just happened just for the sake of everyone's closure and understanding threatened to make my PAK sputter out of control. And I lectured to anyone in this room who had refused to be civil towards Zim after The Downgrade, "...I wanted a fresh start. And a fresh start means we stop holding stubborn grudges! ...I know you're better than this! I'm trying to make sure of that! Why are GIR, Skoodge and I the only ones, the only ones on Irk who don't define Zim by his mistakes?! Have mercy, damn it! I've gotten to know him the past few years. He's… He's my best friend, right next to Eros. He's a friend, he's… he's a soul. ...A tortured soul, not to mention. Please… Please prove to me that you're better than this! Forgive all of who you consider your enemies. No more calculating how much they deserve what. ...Speaking of which, I'll just… After I have his PAK thoroughly examined, if all is well aside from the defect, Zim will be re-encoded as a Service Drone for three months. He'll be handing out beverages in my tower and The Massive, washing our ships, picking chewed gum off the seats of every snack place you know,... etcetera." I nearly retched at having to announce Zim's sentence right after he had suffered yet again. And, with that done, finally, I could end the damned trial. "...I said we're done here. You're dismissed." After another long moment of silence, I heard the other irkens beginning to depart, without a word, leaving me and Zim alone in the room. Later that day, after Zim was medically confirmed to be alright, irkens once again surrounded him. I saw this from afar, and watched, on alert. I relaxed when I realized that Zim's fellow irkens weren't berating him this time. I could tell just by their body language that they were calmly sympathizing with him, probably sharing their thoughts with him as well. He even received a hug from Tenn, finally from another irken other than me. ******Just days after Zim's trial, I sought his SIR Unit, who knew about the meeting, and about Zim generously and busily making up for his crimes with a spring in his step. What GIR had yet to know was that Zim had been murdered in a past life. At the nacho place Zim had mentioned before, little GIR was socializing with three other SIRs, and was in a mess. "Hi, prin-Syss!" GIR squealed, sending globs of cheese jetting in every direction as he waved at me. "Hello there," I said. My smile must have been too small, for GIR's fell. He left a trail of cheesy footprints behind him as he toddled in front of me, and uttered a questioning hum. The other three SIRs followed his lead, surrounding me with visible concern and interest in their eyes. "I'm sorry to interrupt, GIR," I apologized. "I just need to speak with you. It might be important." "Okey-dokey!" GIR accepted with a jolly grin before he followed me outside. The other SIRs understood that the matter was private, so they stayed behind. "Little GIR,... um…" I knelt down, solemnly looking into the SIR's bright blue eyes. "Do you… remember anything before your time with Zim?" GIR tilted his head at the question. He then pondered it in a goofy manner, mumbling, and changing position every single second as his scrunched face displayed just how hard he had to think. He abruptly gave up, and replied with his arms outstretched, "I really don't!" I pursed my lips, half of me amused, and the other half of me troubled. "Well, I was thinking… Your SIR Unit brain is a mix of more than one. Could that be the same case with your name? ...Is your name SIR and something else?" GIR nodded, stopped, looked away, then looked back and replaced his nod with a shrug. "I may have an idea of where the G comes from," I said. "Goulash?" GIR guessed, leaning forward. "Not quite. ...Does… Gerwyn sound familiar?" As if it did, GIR gasped, but an instant later, he stuck his tongue out and shook his head. This was likely for the best if the theory I had in mind was correct. I softly smiled back at what was possibly half of Beo's old SIR Unit, and then, I dismissed him. I would let him finish exhausting himself for the day before I made him fret about his exploding master. In awe, I thought about how marvelous it would be if Beo and Gerwyn had unknowingly reunited a century and a half later.