The curse is spreading through Kevin’s body–poison coursing through his veins–and the only counter Zim and the doc have managed to find is death of the host. That’s one shitty cure.
But Zim’s been able to burn it away, use the hosts’ hearts as foundation, turn his penchant for literal fire into a more figurative, ethereal fire. He has an idea, a desperate, foolish hope, but if he can’t save Kevin then what’s the point of doing all that work? All that research? What’s the point of being magic if he can’t protect the people he cares about?
Doc Kaiza isn’t here to stop him–she’s back at the clinic, more research and calling on her contacts, too slow for what matters–and so it’s just Zim and Kevin and the eldritch entity steadily, thoroughly, working its way through Kevin’s being.
If Zim can’t stop it here and now–before Kaiza makes the call, the final decision to sacrifice the one for the whole of humanity–then Kevin will die. One way or another.
One way or another, Zim is going to prevent that.
“You can’t make fun of me for this,” Zim says to whatever is left of Kevin in Kevin’s body, “For at least two weeks, okay?”
Kevin doesn’t say anything, because the eldritch entity has already taken control of that part of him–an hour ago it made a horrifying screech which shook the town–but his nose crinkles in a familiar tic of confusion, and that’s good. That’s great. That’s all Zim needed.
So he darts forward, shoves a hand over Kevin’s nose–because that at least, in part, is still his, still human, even as the rest of his him lashes out with more power and wrongness than should be possible–and waits for the body to open its mouth. Either to breathe, if it still has to, or to screech once more, defending its terrible existence.
When it does, Zim seals his mouth over it. Less like a kiss and more like he’s trying to literally eat Kevin’s face, a giant bite intended to swallow down more than the chili cheese fries from the Tommy’s Burgers on Orchard Street.
The entity shrieks and it travels directly into Zim, down his throat and into his lungs, the force of it rattling and ominous. But Zim doesn’t stop. He inhales, he pulls, from Kevin into himself, curse drawn within bronchioles to capillaries to heart where his internal fire lives.
Kevin’s body drops to the ground, and Zim would check on him but it’s not done yet. The fight’s still going.
The curse is no longer in Kevin. That’s good, that’s the best thing that could happen. Now Kevin won’t have to die.
Now the curse is in Zim.
He doesn’t scream. Doesn’t have the extra energy to scream. Has to focus on damming the flow, shoring up his very being because the eldritch entity is hungry and not one for mercy.
Zim’s magic manifests itself as fire. Zim can use the hearts of hosts to burn away the curse. Zim’s magic lives in his heart.
He will burn the curse out of himself.
Survival is secondary.
A/N: I have a few more ask box things you said prompts in my ask box and I swear I will get to them, but considering my really bad writing habits lately I figured something unrelated to the ask box event was better than nothing?
This isn’t “canon” Ode to 11010201–if anything can be considered canon for that WIP original ‘verse–but I have an idea and needed to write it, but I didn’t even get to the scene that I wanted to but I needed to stop here because it’s nearly four in the morning and I have work in a few hours so hopefully I’ll still remember what I wanted to get to after I sleep and do stuff later today.
Also, maybe don’t get your hopes up about my writing schedule resuming normal levels because I was cast in an upcoming Bindlestiff show even though I was only supposed to design lights so I will be busy again.