Zim stood on a raised platform. A small crowd of Irkens had been chosen to witness his formal execution by the Control Brains themselves. The Brains had already sent wires into his PAK, preparing to drain all data from it. Zim refused to look up. It had only been a few hours since his outburst at Ayam, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. Why had Ayam let Dib be killed? He'd known his own execution would happen, but why the Dib? What was the point? What was the meaning? Every time he thought he'd come to a conclusion, the thought would return him to the beginning of the cycle. They hadn't even completed the mission they'd been sent on. Was it all a waste?

"Ex-Invader Zim. Is there anything you have to say before your execution?" The Control Brains intoned, and the crowd went silent. Even the worst traitor got to say his final words in peace, that was the law.

Zim closed his eyes. What would he say? What could he say? He didn't understand any of it. It made no sense. But then, it never did, until he asked Ayam. But he'd screamed that he hated him. Ayam wouldn't listen to him now, wouldn't answer his questions. He might as well save his breath and not ask.

Because he might be rejected. Startled, he recognized that thought. From the dozens of times it had run through his mind as he lay rotting in the cells of the Swollen Eyeball. He had refused to ask, because it would hurt his pride, and he would be left with nothing. His pride, that left no room for Ayam.

Swallowing hard, Zim whispered, "Ayam… help me. Please. Why? Why Dib? And what do I say?"

His mind whipped backwards. Back to the pain of the testing, back to the times he was alone under the scalpel. Overlaying the memory was the sound of screaming. Ayam's screaming. Zim's pain was Ayam's pain. Zim wasn't alone. He hadn't been alone. The Ayam was there, the whole time.

The crowd murmured some. The prisoner wasn't saying anything. Was he forfeiting his right to final words?

Slowly, Zim looked up. A look of comprehension bloomed on his face. Slowly, as if realizing it as he spoke, he said, "Just because Ayam didn't save Dib, doesn't mean he couldn't have. Just because he didn't, doesn't mean he didn't care." He lifted his eyes to the Tallests, and a small smile crossed his face. "He wanted me to be able to tell you Ayam is still real, Ayam is still all-knowing, and Ayam is still all-powerful, in spite of what happened. Where was he?" To the shock of everyone in the room, Zim threw back his head and laughed. "He was there, there to take the Dib away. Away to the place he spoke of, to be with him forever, a place where no one can ever hurt him again." He grinned at the Tallests crookedly. "And you're about to send me there too. Thank you. You have no idea what you are doing."

Red crossed the room and leaned over, gripping Zim's face in his claws hard enough to draw blood. He growled, "That was the human belief. Even if it was true, it was only true for the humans. As soon as your PAK is erased, Zim, so are you. You will cease to be. There is no all-powerful being waiting for you. You're Irken."

For a moment, fear flickered in Zim's eyes, and satisfaction filled Red's face. But it drained away as the fear in Zim's eyes was replaced by a strange glimmer, a sort of knowing, almost. And even pity.

"The price," Zim whispered, "covers any who choose. That's what he said. I chose."

"Initiate PAK decommissioning." Purple crossed his arms. "He's irritating me."

The wires connecting to Zim's PAK thrummed with electricity as they began sifting through every moment of Zim's short century and a half. As each memory came up, it disintegrated. Personality traits were destroyed. Life support was terminated.

The process took less than two minutes, and the PAK, now reformatted for a new Irken, was detached from Zim's back and whisked away.

Zim dropped to his hands and knees. At the corner of his vision, he could see his life clock counting down. Ten minutes, he mused. What could he do with ten minutes?

Tell them.

Zim almost laughed. Executions were broadcasted live to every Irken through their PAKs. It was a warning, and one that was watched with much enjoyment. Weakness was already overtaking his limbs, but he lifted his head, and from his place on his knees, he began to shout.

"Irkens! Invaders! Listen to Zim! There is an Ayam, and he will be coming. He will come and give you the choice he gave to the humans. He will teach you a different way. Be ready! He is a great commander, and a good one." Here he stared directly at Red. "He doesn't abandon his soldiers, no matter what happens."

A laser blast split the air, burying itself in Zim's torso. Gasping, he keeled over, clutching the wound. Red turned to see Purple aiming again.

"Pur, knock it off, he's already dying." Red grabbed for the laser.

"He's annoying me." Purple snarled, yanking it out of Red's reach.

"GIR," Zim gasped, gathering his strength for a last shout. "The Records of Ayam… with GIR… look for… blue-eyed SIR… ask… about Records…" A second laser blast slammed into Zim's head, snapping it backwards. His body flopped to the ground.

"Guards," Purple called. "Take that body away, shoot it into space or something. And stop broadcasting, the execution is over."

…

He remembered this place. He'd been here before. He stood in a tunnel, watching his body collapse on one side, and seeing a brilliant light at the other. He hurried toward the light, but again, a cold hand gripped his shoulder, halting him. He almost laughed. Didn't this creature remember?

"You're wasting your time," Zim smirked.

The jeweled figure stared down at him, an expression of infinite disgust on his face. "Do you really think He wants you? Look at yourself!"

Startled, Zim glanced down. To his horror, he realized he wore no uniform. He was utterly naked, and his skin was covered in rotting, festering sores. Filth caked every wound, and a horrible stench rose from his body.

Come.

Zim shrank. He didn't want to be seen by the owner of that voice. Not like this. But the grip propelled him forward.

Zim.

The Irken shook. This was the voice of Ayam, but it sounded different. Sterner.

Let us see.

See? Zim wondered. See what?

Before his eyes, an image appeared. A smeet being hatched, then jerked away from its cold, unfeeling robot arm. Zim gasped, recognizing his first moments of life.

The image was replaced by others, each succeeding the last in rapid succession. Every moment in Zim's life was displayed. Every success and every failure was noted. Zim willed himself to vanish. So many failures, so many…

Something strange began to happen. There, in the succession of images, was Zim shouting, "Be my commander!" Yet as he spoke the words, something began sliding down the image. Something smooth and red was dripping down it. Fascinated, Zim pulled away from the hand and touched the substance, lifting it to his face. Astonished, he watched as the liquid trickled down his arm, sealing every wound it came in contact with. And wherever it came in contact with scar tissue, it would slough off, revealing fresh skin underneath.

With a cry, Zim plunged into the red drippings, rubbing it all over his body. He would be clean, he would be whole! He could present himself to Ayam this way! He splashed it on his face and opened his eyes—both of them The red stuff had restored his eye. Eagerly, he rubbed it on his head and squealed with delight as he felt his antenna regrow as well.

When he had finished, he stepped out from the substance, scattering it everywhere. "Ayam!" he shouted. "Ayam, I'm clean!"

You see, the voice rumbled, you have no claim on him. He chose to accept.

Zim turned to see the bejeweled figure raise a fist, fury darkening its face. Then it turned and stalked off.

Zim.

Zim turned, still dripping wet, and beamed. "Ayam! What is this stuff, it's amazing!"

My blood, Zim.

Zim froze, his spooch recoiling in terror. He was wearing the blood of his commander? He'd washed in it? Treated it so lightly? Dropping to his knees, Zim wailed, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

Zim. A strong grip lifted him to his feet. It was the only thing that could clean you. I gave it to you gladly. It is my gift. And now, a cloth was produced. A linen so white Zim could barely look at it. To his amazement it was wrapped around him. Now I can bring you home.

"Home?" Zim queried.

With Me.

"But Ayam, what about what you told me to do? I didn't get to finish! I only told the Devorrahs a little bit, and the Irkens may never find the Records with GIR!"

You did exactly what I asked of you. Leave the rest to Me. I'll take care of it. You did very well, Zim. Now, come. There's someone who wants to see you.

"Eh?" Zim quirked an antenna as he was led forward. "Who—"

"Spaceboy!"

Zim gaped as Dib bounded toward him. Eagerly he grabbed Zim's arm. "You made it! That's so awesome!"

"Dib! Dib, you meatsack, you're alright!" Zim grinned ecstatically.

Dib laughed. "Of course I'm alright, what did you expect? Now come on! You've no idea all the cool stuff that goes on… it's gonna take forever to show you. And there's a party going on!"

"A party?"

"Yeah. I mean, you are the first Irken here. It's a big deal!"

Zim chuckled as he let himself be dragged off by Dib.

All around him, he could sense Ayam. He was with the Essence of Existence, and at that moment the Essence shouted with all the joy in His being, Welcome home. It's just begun!