Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was just gone.

No explanations, no epic final battle, no confrontations – Zim’s base was just gone.

Dib stood at the edge of the crater, trying to piece it together in his head. They’d had a few fights in the last week, the same stuff as always. Zim threatens to invade the Earth, Dib swears to protect and avenge it, yadda yadda, same shit as usual, nothing ever changes. The fact that the alien’s base was now missing was…Concerning. Had Dib pushed too far?

Had Zim given up?

No.

No way.

Dib might have pushed too far, but Zim would never give up on something like that. It wasn’t in him to give up on his mission, on his threats to take over the world and subjugate its people. No matter how irritated he might have gotten, he would never give up on that.

He’d been chasing it for years now, almost a decade.

Enough time for Dib to head off to college, having grown up and gotten past the worst parts of schooling. He’d been away for a few weeks, coming home every weekend, and he’d still managed to find time to get into it with Zim in the way they always had. Fight, argue, declare temporary victory while one or both limped home to lick their wounds and recover from their toil.

Dib had chosen to take a poetry class, it had turned out to not be the worst thing ever but he had started talking with a more intense vocabulary.

He closed his eyes as he stepped closer to the edge of the crater, trying to remember what the alien had been shouting the last time they’d met. Something out of the ordinary? It had all sounded normal, nothing so much as a blip on the ‘this is different’ radar. Zim hadn’t so much as changed his tune, still screeching about things that had happened when they’d first met and how he was planning on taking over the world for the Irken race.

Nothing had been different.

Zim hadn’t said anything about leaving, hadn’t voiced so much as ‘I might be gone soon’. He’d been there one minute and gone the next.

And a part of Dib felt guilty for wanting him to be back, to be where he was supposed to be. Zim had been an active threat to the world for about a decade. Dib had been fighting back the entire time, a war that no one else except for Gaz was aware of. No one had ever thanked him, but he’d kept fighting anyway – Humanity didn’t deserve to go extinct under the rule of an alien race.

But somewhere along the way, it had become less of a fight and more of a measure of their abilities.

Would Dib be able to stop this plot, would Zim be able to plan around this, would everything work out if one-third of their components were missing…

In a way, Dib would almost have called them friendly.

Competitive and potentially dangerous, sure, but almost-friendly.

This, however, this was new.

Dib crouched down at the edge of the crater, running his fingers along one blackened edge. Something had happened that took a lot of energy, burning the ground like that. He had never known how Zim had set up his base, he hadn’t been able to figure it out, but he didn’t think that removing it would have left burn marks like that behind.

There were just too many things out of place for him to think the alien had pulled up his roots and left.

The burn marks were the biggest thing, certainly, but there were other things. The lawn gnomes and other creatures had been destroyed, pieces of them still littering the grass. There were dents in the lawn from something setting down, a chunk of wood and metal that Dib recognized as the men’s room sign from the front door. What little he could tell from the pieces wasn’t comforting. Something had happened, something probably bad, and it should have been a relief for Zim to be gone.

Instead, all he got was a feeling of empty loss and a vacant lot.

Dib stood back up and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Dialing, he winced as he thought about the reaction he’d get from the person on the other end of the line. Surprisingly, it picked up after two rings, faster than he’d ever known Gaz to answer her phone. “What?”

“Zim’s gone,” he told her, trying to keep his voice even.

“And you’re bothering me with this…Why? You’ve wanted him gone for years.”

“No I haven’t,” Dib frowned, pressing the palm of his hand to his face. “Yes, I have. I don’t know! But he’s gone and there are signs of it going wrong, whatever happened. Pieces of his house on the ground, indents on the grass, whatever happened here happened in a big way.”

“…What do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Dib sighed, shaking his head. “Make sure the door is unlocked? I’m going to swing by the house and pick up a few things from my room, check on some stuff.”

“Are you going to contact the Swollen Eye?”

Dib paused.

He’d contacted them so often they’d blocked his number several times, he’d been foiled time and again, he’d pissed them off in a major way – No. “I’m not going to. I…” he groaned, tugging at his hair. “I can’t. Something is happening here and I need to make sure of what it is before I drag anyone else into it.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Don’t tell dad, either.”

“Got it.” He could hear the surprise in Gaz’s voice. Dib understood why it was there, too. Before this, he’d spent years trying to get their father to believe him, to get someone to believe him, someone besides Gaz.

For him to be asking her not to tell anyone, that was something bigger than anything.

“I’ll be there in just a bit,” he told her. “Just make sure the front door is unlocked.” He waited until he heard her ‘mmhm’ and then ended the call.

The house was quiet when he arrived.

Dib found Gaz sitting in the living room, her thumbs flying over the controls of her game. “So what exactly is happening?” she asked, no preamble or any greeting. It was the most social he’d ever seen her be, talking the moment someone approached her. “You sounded actually upset on the phone, not just paranoid and crazy like usual.”

“Zim’s entire base is gone,” he dropped to sit on the floor next to the couch. “And something about it doesn’t feel right. There’s damage to the surrounding ground and there’s debris scattered across the grass.”

For a moment, Gaz went very still.

She took a deep breath, nodded, then tapped a button that made her game’s music come to a sudden stop. “Dib,” she sighed, then nodded again. “You’re a paranoid idiot but you’re actually pretty smart sometimes. I want you to know that my next question is because of that, and I want you to remember how little patience I have for your conspiracies.” She met his eyes, her forehead drawn down in worry. “What do you think happened?”

What did he think had happened?

“Well,” Dib sat up a little straighter, closing his eyes for a second and picturing the lot as he’d seen it. “There were pieces of the lawn decorations and the front door on the grass. The house was gone, with only that weird white patch of grass left behind where it had been. On top of that,” he paused, licked his lips, then opened his eyes. “The grass had been burnt. There were indents and burns, like something had landed there. I know enough about Zim’s ship to know that it wouldn’t have left those markings – his engine doesn’t burn like that.” He paused again, his next words feeling like ten-ton weights on his tongue. “I think something took him.”

“Okay.” Gaz actually closed her game and nodded one more time. “Okay. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to grab some of my equipment and take it back to where his base was.” Dib met her eyes. “And I’m going to get scans of the area and see what might have happened. If I recognize the signature trail of whatever landed, if there is even anything I can find.”

“Good,” Gaz stood up and pushed at his shoulder to make him move out of her way. “I’m going with you.” She rolled her eyes when he went to say something, shaking her head. “Dib, you do realize how the last decade of your life has played out, right?”

“What do you mean?”

Looking thoroughly unimpressed, Gaz raised both eyebrows. “Let me put it this way, Dib. A new kid came to our school, acting different and looking out of place. You immediately honed in on him and started talking about him constantly. You obsessed and followed him around and every other word out of your mouth was either his name or something about how he wasn’t going to win against you.” She put her hands on her hips, tapping one foot on the floor. “And then there was parent-teacher night. You told dad of all people, ‘there’s someone I want you to meet’, which is standard for introducing your romantic partners to your parents.”

Dib reared back, felt his eyes going wide behind his glasses. “But – No, but, Zim’s an alien! I just wanted him to know which kid I was talking about!”

“Dad already knew that, genius,” Gaz made a face, then shook her head. “It was obvious which person you were talking about. You’d pointed him out so many times and talked about him so much that before I even met him, I knew it was him. So did dad. I heard him talking, the other day, about how much of a pity it was that you and the ‘green-boy’ weren’t coming out and telling him that you were dating.”

Face flushing a bright pink, Dib swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat. “What?”

“He approves of him, you absolute nerd!” Gaz threw her hands into the air. “And now the guy you’ve been in love with for the past six years is missing.”

“…Six years?”

“I’m shaving time off to account for you getting over your repressed-nerd-sexuality phase.” Gaz went around him and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, dragging him towards his room. “Nine years ago, you met him. You were thirteen.”

“I was twelve, actually.”

“Oh, whatever,” Glaring at him, she continued to tug him down the hall. “My point is, Dib, you’ve been obsessed with him for almost a decade and in love with him for the past six years, no matter how you look at it. So I am going to help you figure out where he went.”

She pushed open the door to his room and shoved him in. “Find the equipment you need, pack your stuff up, we’re going to go find the nerd-alien who has been just as obsessed with you as you are with him.”

Standing alone, in the middle of his room, Dib felt his entire face go hot.

Without another word, he packed his gear up, listening to Gaz’s footsteps retreat down the hall to her own room.

Even with company, the vacant lot where Zim’s base used to be seemed too empty and dead.

“This is…Horrible.” Gaz looked around, peering out from under the umbrella she’d been smart enough to grab on their way out the door. On the walk over, it had started pouring down rain and she hadn’t once offered to share her cover with Dib.

“I know,” Dib crouched down to one of the indents on the grass, taking a couple of photos of it with his foot next to it for scale. “I should want this to have happened,” he muttered. “For the biggest threat to our world to be gone – I should have wanted Zim to leave, ages ago.” He paused in documenting everything before the rain washed it away. “Gaz, what’s wrong with me?”

“Everything, you dork,” Gaz glared at him, narrowing her eyes. “There is nothing that is not wrong about you. But, newsflash, idiot,” she stretched out her leg and gently kicked his thigh. “That’s what being in love is like, especially when your dumb brain decided to fall in love with an alien bent on conquering our world.”

Dib winced, his shoulders rising up to try and shield himself. “That was not something I meant to do – And I’m not even sure I’m in love with him!”

Gaz rolled her eyes at him again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dib saw something move. It was hard to see in the rain, but the flash of pink had been unmistakable. He couldn’t smell anything with the scent of water hitting the grass, petrichor in the air, but he could almost see small wisps of smoke being drowned. “Zim?” he called out, frowning. There was no reply, but there was something shuffling around in what looked to be a cardboard box.

He looked at Gaz, who looked back at him and nodded.

Together, they moved closer to the box and stood a few feet away from it. The construct of corrugated cardboard hadn’t been on the lot when he’d been there earlier, Dib was sure of it. Gaz shoved him closer, jerking her head towards it.

Slowly, Dib reached out and pulled up the flap that covered the entire open end of the box.

In the years since Zim had come to Earth, he’d undergone changes. Some of them were almost boring – different clothes, different shoes, changing out the wig in his disguise. Some of them had been interesting and Zim had actually explained one of them to Dib, once.

The gravity on Earth was different than the gravity on the planet Zim came from.

Their leaders were apparently just…Taller. Than the rest of their species. That was why they were leaders. Any Irken who could overcome the gravitational pull of their planet and become taller than the rest was immediately given a position of leadership. It was seen as a power beyond power, defiance against the forces at work.

But on Earth, Zim had gotten taller.

He was about Dib’s height, thin limbs and a lanky body, and he’d been extremely pleased with that fact. Zim was taller than the Tallests, he’d explained, which meant that when he went home he’d be their leader.

When Dib saw Zim cowering in the back of the box, however, he didn’t look tall and imposing anymore. He looked scared and small, terrified in a way that Dib had never seen him be. His disguise was missing, his pink eyes wide in fear. When he saw Dib, they narrowed and Zim hissed, curling even further into the back.

His gloves were missing, his fingers bare and the skin on them burned from contact with the rain.

Each of his three fingers had a claw at the end, the tips of them ragged and broken, and Dib felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. “Zim, what happened to you?” he studied the alien, feeling horror well up inside of him. He turned back to his sister. “Gaz, could you bring your umbrella closer?”

For once, she did as he asked without complaint, bringing her hood up and holding the umbrella out over him and the box.

Dib turned back to Zim, his heart pounding in his chest, and nodded. “Okay, Zim, we’ve got an umbrella and there’s no one else home right now. Our house is empty. It’s not too far away.” He reached out his hand, offering it palm-up to Zim. “Come with us.”

Instead of speech, Zim just hissed at him again, his blunted teeth showing when his upper lip curled. There were sounds in the hiss, almost like a type of speech that Dib recognized, and he noticed a thick scar running down Zim’s neck. It disappeared under the collar of his shirt, but it was obvious that it continued down and over his throat. “Did you have a translator before?” Dib put a hand to his own throat, where the scar was. “Can you understand me right now?”

Zim continued to glare and hiss at him.

Sighing, Dib cast around for something, then pulled his jacket off, offering it to Zim. “Put it on,” he told him, motioning what to do at the same time. He frowned when Zim did so with what looked to be a handicap – like something was wrong with one of his arms. He was holding it to his chest as if it were injured, but he switched hands after he’d gotten one sleeve on.

Dib saw another flash of pink, between green fingers, and he decided to file it away for later. “C’mon,” he gestured for Zim to follow him, moving back so that the alien could get out of the box and under the umbrella. “We’re going to our house,” he watched as Zim clambered out and stood up slowly, off-balance for a second. Thankfully, there were still boots on his feet and he wasn’t going to be walking through water without that amount of protection.

Gaz stayed silent, only offering the umbrella to Dib and pulling her hood tighter around her face.

The walk back to the house was quiet, awkward and almost uncomfortable except for the fact that Zim kept pressing closer to Dib like he actually trusted him.

His sister had been right, Dib decided. He’d actually managed to fall in love with an alien.

Their father still wasn’t home when they got back.

It gave Dib time to get Zim to his room, settling the alien on his bed. Zim was still curled up in Dib’s jacket, his knees pulled to his chest and his entire body hunched like he expected to be attacked at any moment. “Are you…” Dib crouched at the side of his bed, trying to figure out what to say to a seemingly traumatized alien. “Can you understand me?”

Zim’s eyes narrowed again, his hands still clutched to his chest. After a second, he nodded slowly. When he opened his mouth, that same hissing noise came out again.

“Is that your language?” Dib settled down onto his knees, trying to keep from being seen as a threat. Zim wasn’t the smartest being in the universe, wasn’t great at taking over the world, but he was still a threat if he got angry. The claws on his hands seemed dangerous, even when damaged, and Dib knew from experience that Zim had a temper. Whatever weapons were in his Pak-thingy on his back were probably enough to really do some damage if he decided that he didn’t like what Dib was doing.

Zim nodded again.

“But you can’t speak our language without whatever was in your neck,” Dib ventured. “Irken Armada, you’ve talked about that before. You’re a soldier. Equipped with whatever you would need to infiltrate and take over.” He blinked a couple of times. “That means a translator. You could speak our language because you assimilated it, right?”

Pink eyes narrowed even further and Zim’s head inclined a fraction.

“Right, stupid questions.” Dib sighed. “Okay. So. I’ve got Zim in my bedroom and he can’t tell me what happened. His translator is gone or damaged or something. How do I—”

“You’ve got that stupid ship in the garage,” Gaz’s voice called from behind him. She was standing at the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. “The one you stole from Tak. You’ve been bugging us about it for years, haven’t you gotten anywhere with the language from it?”

“Oh, right.”

Zim hissed again, turning his head to look at Gaz. On the back of his head, Dib could see a smear of green fluid, something that might have been blood. With a snort-like sound, he stood up and pushed past Dib, still clutching whatever he was holding to his chest. With a noise that he would forever deny was a squeak, Dib rushed to follow him. He was standing in the middle of the living room, looking around with what seemed to be confusion on his face.

“The garage is this way,” Dib offered after a few seconds of watching him.

Something about Zim seemed off.

Maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t speak English anymore, his translator gone and a scar left behind. Maybe it was that he was holding himself differently, protective of the thing in his hands. It might even have been the fact that he had willingly accepted Dib’s help – that had never happened before. Dib was stubborn, just like his father, but Zim verged on idiotic pigheadedness. He refused any help offered to him unless he was desperate.

But the blood (maybe?) on the back of his head and Dib’s coat still around his thin frame made something about him seem too small. Zim had always been a large presence, loud and incapable of being ignored.

Whatever had happened to him, it had made him accept any help given to him.

He followed closely behind Dib as they walked into the garage. “The ship isn’t currently capable of flight,” Dib told Zim. “I’m trying to go through the systems one-by-one and figure them out.” He patted the console. “But it should work for you to try telling me what happened.”

Zim nodded and cautiously reached one hand out to type something into the ship.

Dib had been right, earlier – his claws were damaged. More of the green fluid had built up and seemed to be drying in and around the beds of his nails. Feeling a wave of horrified disgust in his stomach, Dib forced himself to look at the screen.

It took a second for him to translate it, but he nearly fell over when he did.

‘My Tallest are gone. I saw them get destroyed.’

Chapter Text

There had been an intruder alert.

He’d barely been paying attention, had been working on another scheme and trying to pull something together. GIR had been running around, shrieking like he usually did, and Zim had barely had the patience to deal with his usual antics, let alone someone new. The robo-parents had been dispatched and that should have been the end of it.

It hadn’t been.

He’d been on Earth long enough, should have known to anticipate something worse coming to find him – he’d made many enemies, in his lifetime. Whether it was going to be the human government or an Irken enemy, he hadn’t been sure but he should have realized that something was going to come find him. Nearly ten years on the stink-planet should have prepared him. His mission, one of the longest that he’d ever known of in the history of the Armada, had been going so well. Of course there had been setbacks, all long-term missions had those, but it had been coming along nicely.

Zim had almost forgotten that there were threats to his existence.

He’d been forced to go to school with the human children for so long that he’d actually almost grown fond of them. Dib and he had become, dare he say it, friendly.

But there had been an intruder alert and GIR had been frustrating and Zim—

Zim had forgotten anything beyond his work at the moment, until someone came into his lab and grabbed him. He’d been shoved into a cage of some kind and hauled away. By the calendar of the Earth, he’d only been gone about four days. The time he’d spent in another place, on another world, had been much longer than that.

As it was with Foodcourtia, there were some temporal oddities in the universe. By the calendar of the world he’d been taken to, it had been almost thirty years.

His Pak was reporting some damages and GIR was still missing when he managed to get back to where his base had once stood. The outer building was gone, ripped apart when he’d been taken, but his base was still in the ground. His neck sore from where his captors had pulled out his translator, Zim had hurried to grab some healing spray before hauling a box to the surface and collapsing the nanites that made up his labs.

When the rain had started, he’d moved to the back of the box and clutched the tube of nanites that had formed his home to his chest. If he could just make it out of that location, he could find somewhere else and set it all up again, rebuild his base and try to figure out what had happened. There had been mentions of Irken hatred, nothing ever quite clear enough for him to focus on. His Tallest had been there as well, the first time he’d seen them since being sent away from the rest of the Armada.

They had been destroyed.

At least it had been quick, but they’d still been murdered. There had been no battlefield death for them, nothing honorable.

His escape was almost a blur, working off of the instincts he’d been genetically encoded with. He’d managed to damage those holding him, the ones who had held him in place to watch the deaths of his leaders. He’d gotten away, his head aching and making him feel dizzy, and he’d gotten to an escape pod.

They must have been able to crash it, somehow.

Zim had landed several streets away from his base and he had run the entire way back, dodging behind trees and other such things whenever he’d been approached.

His remembering had been interrupted by the Dib-creature approaching him. For some reason, the human had offered a moving shelter from the rain, had offered his jacket to help cover Zim. His sister-beast had been there as well, actually helping her brother for the first time that Zim had ever seen.

And now he was here.

In their house-base.

Tak’s old ship was before him, allowing him to communicate in a way the humans could understand. The tube of nanites was still held against his chest, his base within reach but GIR was still missing. His Tallest were murdered.

As far as he knew, he might be the only Irken left in the entire universe.

Dib stared at him with something like pity in his eyes and Zim wanted to wipe the expression off of his face. Claw it away until there was only anger and the need to fight. That was how they interacted – the fought and they yelled and they plotted around each other. Those were their ordinary interactions. Anything that was not that was…Confusing.

Uncomfortable.

Vulnerable.

Friendships were vulnerabilities, something that Zim could not afford to have. To be vulnerable was to be as good as dead. Having friends – he might as well pull off his Pak and let his time run down. But he wanted to have friends. It might have just been the time he’d spent on Earth, with the human worm-babies, but he wanted to have people he could talk to.

That had been his failing as an Irken soldier.

He liked talking to people, liked to tell stories and talk and sometimes even listen to their stories as well. He had become an Invader to try and make certain that none would know.

But now, the few people he could talk to were unable to understand him.

His translator had been ripped out of his throat.

Zim tapped a few more keys, then pointed at the viewscreen. Underneath the tip of his claw was the planet he’d been taken to. ‘Danger,’ he’d typed out. ‘Enemies are located here. They are the ones who took me.’

With a nod, Dib moved a step closer. “Zim,” he made a different face, something closer to comforting. “What exactly happened? Where’s GIR? And – And where’s your base?”

Holding up the tube of nanites, keeping it close to his chest, Zim typed again. ‘My base is here. I was taken from my base and to this planet,’ he jabbed a claw at it again. ‘I escaped and made it back to Earth to retrieve my things.’ He met Dib’s eyes. ‘It has been a long time since I last saw you.’

“…How long? You’ve only been gone a few days.”

‘Years. Twenty-eight, in fact.’

Dib looked horrified again, his hands twitching like he wanted to do something with them. “Shit,” he muttered and Zim almost wanted to laugh. “Zim, do you need – I don’t know how to fix whatever’s wrong with you, but I can…I’ll do the best I can.” He turned and searched the shelves of the garage for a second, pulling down a sealed plastic container with clean cloths in it. “I know I can’t use water, so this is going to be interesting.”

Leaning back, Zim narrowed his eyes at Dib, hoping the human would understand that he needed to explain more.

Luckily, Dib seemed to get it. “You’ve got…I think it’s blood? It’s on the back of your head.” He pulled out a clean, dry cloth. “I figured I would help clean you up and then try and figure out what to do from there. I can’t let you take over our planet but I can help you be okay again – You make things really complicated, Zim.”

Zim nodded, then sat down on the edge of the pilot’s compartment of the ship, gesturing Dib forward.

Surprisingly, Dib was actually gentle enough in cleaning up that it didn’t hurt worse than it already did. “When you say your base is here,” Dib broached the subject after a minute. “Is that what the tube is?” he kept wiping down the back of Zim’s head, like he needed to do something with his hands or he would fall into old habits.

They’d never done this, before.

Gentle was never how they’d interacted. It had always been a grudging alliance that ended in backstabbing or it had been an all-out battle. The way Dib was acting made Zim feel a fondness in his chest, something he’d been stomping down for several years on Earth. Irkens were not wired to feel love in the same way as humans did.

It was just another point of failure on Zim’s part.

Not a proper soldier, not a proper Invader – he felt fondness and he liked to talk. As much as he hated to think about it, he was more like the humans than his own species. He suspected a corrupted gene bank. Defective, somehow, and the defect had ended up altering him as well. None of the others born from the same genes as him had come out like he had – or if they had, they’d been eliminated before reaching maturity. There was still the need to serve the Tallest, still the need to prove himself in battle and conquer planets, but he’d been created wrong.

If there were any others like him, he’d never found them.

His captors had taunted him with that, before they’d murdered the Tallest. They’d laid out every detail of his exile, had gotten the Tallest to tell Zim what he had already known. He was an exile on Earth, there was no actual mission for him there.

He’d known from the moment he’d been sent there.

It had just been another thing wrong with him. Optimism was not a common trait in Irken soldiers. He’d been hoping, had been hopeful, that if he conquered an entire planet by himself then maybe his leaders would reinstate him. Maybe they would let him go back home.

Which was yet another way.

Irkens did not get homesick. They were Invaders. Whatever planet they took, that was their new home.

Realizing he’d left Dib without an answer for a while, Zim nodded, continuing to clutch the tube of nanites to his chest. Leaning forward, he typed out, ‘Nanites. The only way to pack an entire base into a small tube. The only way to make a base that will expand like mine always did when I needed it to.’

Dib nodded as well. “That’s actually kind of cool.” He peered at the tube, not making any moves to take it or lean in closer. “Wait, Zim, do you know where GIR is?”

GIR was missing.

Zim shook his head. The little robot had been missing since Zim had been taken, his annoying antics disappearing when the intruders had broken into the lab. Something had happened to him, probably destruction. “Wait, just a second,” Dib turned away from him and typed something into the ship’s computer. “I’ve used this like this before – I’ve got the ship keyed into looking for other Irken tech. GIR is Irken, right?” he looked back at Zim. “I can scan the city to try and find him.”

Despite how annoying GIR was at times, he’d been Zim’s companion for the last decade. Zim nodded again.

Dib hit the button to send the command.

Within seconds, a map of the city was displayed on the screen and the computer was scanning section by section. “We’ll know within a couple of minutes,” Dib said, his voice oddly quiet. Normally, he was loud and Zim appreciated it. Someone who matched his excitement, his drama, was comforting. That had probably been part of why he’d become so attached to Dib. Landing on a new planet, falling into the role of disguised Invader, Zim had immediately found someone who knew. Knew that he wasn’t human, knew that he was a threat. Dib had played to a part of him that wanted recognition, had been a way for him to get noticed but no one believed the human.

Zim had been playing to an audience of one, showing off exclusively for Dib.

If he’d been created for a different generation of Irkens, maybe he would have fit in more. If they’d conquered the entire galaxy already and he’d been born then, maybe he would have been better. Or if he’d been created at the beginning of their species, he might have fit in with their ancestors.

He was dragged out of his thoughts by the computer beeping.

“Looks like there’s a piece of Irken technology at…” Dib frowned at the screen. “The old school. From the scanner, it looks like it might be GIR.” He turned to Zim. “Do you want to go with me to retrieve him?”

Outside, Zim could hear the rain.

He turned his head towards the garage door. “Oh, right,” Dib frowned, chewing on his bottom lip. “Rain. And you don’t have your disguise. Hm.” He stepped back, scanning the shelves quickly. “I think we have something that could be used as a disguise,” he said after a few seconds. “We’ve got an old rain jacket and hat. The jacket has a hood, too,” he grabbed it down and offered it to Zim. “It has pockets, so you can put your base into one.”

Zim took it, rubbing his fingers over the material. He’d seen the children of this planet wearing these before, but they’d never seemed like the safer option between bathing in paste and wearing one.

“We also have a bunch of umbrellas,” Dib shifted awkwardly.

Nodding, Zim pulled off Dib’s jacket and pulled the raincoat on. The hat came next, his antenna curling up and laying flat against his head as he put it on. Just as Dib had said, there was a pocket sitting over his left hip and he slid the tube of nanites into it. It felt awkward, this disguise, and he already missed Dib’s jacket. The scent of it was comforting and the weight of it had been nice.

Plus, when he’d put it on, it had still been warm from the human’s skin.

Thankful that his boots and leggings were still intact, Zim stood up and waited next to Dib. Gesturing at himself, he met Dib’s eyes. “You look almost like you usually do,” Dib smiled for a second, seemingly pleased. “Almost like normal. It’s too bad you don’t have the same disguise tech as Tak did – hers made her look completely human. Although,” he shrugged. “Maybe it’s better that you didn’t look human.”

They would never have become what they were if Zim had been able to disguise himself like Tak had.

Zim, for just a second, almost wanted to put a hand on Dib’s face and push backward until the human fell down. Really, he was ridiculous. In truth, if Zim had chosen a little more wisely, then Dib might not have noticed at all, that much was certain. If he had chosen the standard Irken disguise, he might have just…Flown in under the radar.

But he had never wanted to.

Of all his failings, that had been one of the biggest: He liked attention. Didn’t matter who paid it to him, if it was positive or negative, he just liked being noticed. That had been why, when given a fake mission meant to get him out of the way, he’d continued on like it was legitimate. Attention from his leaders, from those in charge, had been the best thing.

Attention from Dib had been good.

Praise and attention, even from a human, was good.

“Ready?” Dib pulled a big umbrella off the shelf, opening it into a full barrier before the garage door was even opened. When Zim nodded, Dib gestured for him to go, following along and keeping up with him. “Can you tell me anything about how you ended up like this?” he asked, the sound of the rain masking their conversation. “Or even what happened?”

Eventually, he might.

Zim looked at him with narrowed eyes, sighing. The human had always been seeking knowledge, even if it was to his detriment.

That had been one of the things he’d been fond of Dib for.

Chapter Text

As expected, Zim was pretty quiet the entire walk to the old school.

Dib held the umbrella over him carefully, doing his best to keep it over the alien’s head. Water was one of the biggest weaknesses, he’d discovered that fairly early on, but he didn’t want to put it to use now. Whatever had happened to Zim, whatever had been done to him, it had been enough to scar him and destroy his safe living situation.

His base was collapsed into a tube in his pocket.

A part of Dib was fascinated by the science of it, wanted to poke and prod and experiment with it until he knew exactly how it all worked.

But right now, Zim needed stability and safety.

Even possibly being in love with the alien, Dib still wasn’t sure when he’d moved on to wanting to keep him safe rather than keeping the world safe. Humanity had been saved by him enough. Zim needed help and Dib also needed to gather information because, whatever had been done, whoever had attacked him, they had murdered the Irken leaders. In front of Zim, which was only another piece of the trauma on top of everything else, but it was also worrying.

What if those responsible decided to come after humanity?

What if they came and found Zim again?

And what had happened to the rest of his people? Were they held captive somewhere, being tortured and tormented? If he ignored the problem, if he refused to get involved, was he partially responsible for the genocide of a – yes, true, a conquering and dangerous species, but an entire species didn’t deserve to be wiped out.

Not if there were those who just wanted a quiet life. There had to be at least one Irken who wanted peace and calm.

Okay, so he was judging with a human morality. No one got to decide whether or not an entire species was going to be wiped out, not even if they were genocidal…

He was just going to go around and around in his own head.

Dib was almost glad when they approached where the signal was coming from.

The old school loomed large in front of them, strangely not diminished in any way despite the years and height that separated them from their attendance of it. On one side, he could see the new gym that had been built after the old one had been taken down by a couple of court orders and the odd disappearances of several building code inspectors. At his side, Zim twitched and he could see the muscles in the side of his face moving, his jaw clenching. He’d seen his antenna so rarely, but he knew they were probably moving underneath the hood of the jacket.

Zim clenched his hands together, clasping them both over the pocket Dib knew now held the tube of nanites that formed his base.

The yard of the school was empty and Dib was, suddenly and thoroughly, glad that it was a weekend.

Off in the distance, he could see a small pile of metal and rubble, like something that might have fallen from the sky. It only took a few seconds to look at it, to recognize the faceplate of the small robot that had been at Zim’s side for years. He was just…On the ground. Scattered across the hopscotch layout like someone had been playing using his pieces.

At his side, Dib felt Zim go stiff.

The alien glanced around, peered out from under his hood, then rushed forward and dropped to the ground. His hands were trembling, plumes of smoke coming off of him as he gently picked up the pieces of GIR.

Dib spotted another piece of him nearby, crouching down to pick it up. It looked like one of GIR’s arms, though he couldn’t tell if it was or not. It might have been a leg. As far as he knew, the robot had just been an annoyance throughout the years, not really useful in any way. Zim had snapped at him a lot and yelled at him often but this was –

He tried to imagine losing someone who had been at his side for so long.

Even someone who annoyed him so much would be hard for him to lose, he supposed. Zim had set out on his mission with GIR at his side and they hadn’t really been apart since then. GIR was one of the few connections – even fewer now, if Zim was right about his leaders being killed – that the alien had to his homeworld. He walked forward, trying to decide what to say as he offered out the piece he’d picked up. Zim didn’t look at him for a few minutes, his hands trembling as he gathered the pieces of GIR up. He stored them in the other pocket of his coat, taking the limb from Dib with a soft hiss.

“Can you put him back together?” Dib decided on saying.

Zim nodded, narrowing his eyes at Dib as he did. It was the look he got when he was considering briefly teaming up – over the years, Dib had seen that expression a couple of times. There had been a few threats that had needed that as a reaction.

Nothing recent, they seemed to have done a good enough job at warning the threats off.

Except for this. Zim was mute and GIR was broken and their base was pulled down. Whatever this threat was, they hadn’t been enough to warn it off. Hell – for all Dib knew, they were the reason it had targeted Zim. Too much power was going to be challenged. Not enough power was going to be challenged. Either way, there would always be challenges.

He just…

Hadn’t thought they would come for Zim like that.

He’d assumed safety on Earth, after everything they had done. The fights between them and the all-out battles against whatever came from outer space.

Dib looked over at Zim, watched his claws tap gently over the metal faceplate that belonged to GIR. He was quieter. It might have just been brushed off as a response to whatever had happened to him, but Zim was moving differently. His movements were slower, now – before, everything had been big and showy. A show put on in motions and movements and rants. Now…Now he was quiet. Restrained. Whatever had been done to him, it had granted him a different sort of maturity than what Dib was used to.

“When we get back to the house,” he cleared his throat awkwardly when Zim peered at him from underneath the raincoat. “Can you tell me anything else about what happened to you?”

Zim’s eyes seemed to be narrowed in distrust but he nodded slowly.

GIR’s faceplate slipped back into a pocket and he shoved his clawed hand into the one holding the tube of nanites. The motion of it gave Dib an idea. “Do you think your computers would have picked up on any data from what took you away?” Dib gestured at his pocket. “I know you were always scanning for stuff in the sky – I know you were, Zim, don’t even – so I have to wonder if it picked up on something before you got grabbed.”

With a strange, half-growled hiss, Zim nodded again.

“I think I might be able to figure out a translator, even,” Dib continued on, holding the umbrella a little further over Zim’s head. His other hand was shoved in the pocket of his jacket, poking at the lining without really feeling it.

There was so much for him to go over in his head.

Zim walked, sedate and almost absolutely silent, next to him for a few blocks. When they were far enough away from the school to not be able to see it anymore, Zim reached back into his pocket and pulled out GIR’s faceplate again. Dib watched him out of the corner of his eye, feeling like he was intruding despite helping Zim shield from the rain.

Everything Zim had known on Earth was ruined, now.

He didn’t have a base, didn’t have his disguise. He had nowhere to go, nowhere to run if the enemy returned. He was alone – GIR wasn’t much, Dib knew, but he was probably better than nothing. In one move, Zim had lost everything, including the home he had lived in for a decade.

And now he was left exposed.

Just a few years ago, Dib had wanted that. If the universe was listening to his wishes, it was moving glacially slow on answering them. Now he only wanted Zim to be safe—

Gaz was right.

He was in love.

Dib managed to keep his sigh internal. He would have time to panic over that later. Right now, Zim needed his help.

Chapter Text

He hadn’t thought about how attached he had gotten to GIR.

A malfunctioning SIR unit, he’d always known. He had done his best, done everything possible to make things work. GIR had simply been one of those things – he’d repaired the little robot so often, upgraded him as much as possible. GIR’s personality was different than any other, including the fact that he actually had one. Whatever the Tallest had done, it had broken him out of the same programming that the others had.

He had hated being shunted aside with the thing, at first. A useless robot, a mission he knew was obviously faked. A strategically important planet he had never heard of, so far away from home that it hadn’t even actually been mapped?

Of course, he had known.

But he was an optimist.

He had been given subpar tools and information, a fake mission, and GIR. During their first trip, he wanted to break the robot into a million pieces. GIR had been so annoying. Constantly repeating himself, seeming to glitch and loop, and then burst out laughing.

Over the years, however, he had become fond of him. Other than Dib, there was no other being in existence that had seen most of what he had seen. No others at his side, constant and reliable. GIR had become…Gir. A person, rather than an object. He held meaning and memories. He was still annoying and sometimes he got on Zim’s last nerve, but he had been there through all of it. The school and the settling in and finding out where they belonged on their new planet. Gir had been there through everything, sometimes helping and sometimes a hindrance.

And now he held Gir’s face in his hands.

A person.

Now just scattered objects.

Dib opened the door into his base and motioned for Zim to go through. Zim barely even glanced up at him as he walked through the door. His own base was in a tube in his pocket, the nanites hopefully remember the correct assembly despite the traumatic collapse and storage. Gir was in pieces in the other pocket and in his hands.

He wandered back into the room that held Tak’s old ship. Dib had said something about a translator, he remembered. Zim watched for a moment as the human sat down and got to work with the computer.

Pulling all of Gir’s pieces out of his pocket, Zim set them all down in front of him, crouching on the floor.

He knew roughly where everything went. His hands were shaking as he nudged things into the vague shape they were supposed to be in. Without wanting to, he trilled. A mourning sound, one his people rarely used anymore. It happened again and again; soft little noises that made him want to rip out his own throat. Dib glanced at him every time they happened, but Zim ignored him. Gir’s faceplate stared up at him, empty and dark, and he hunched down further.

His legs curled against his chest as he tapped pieces into place.

Despite everything, he had always been good with mechanics. Machines spoke to him in a way, almost like they wanted him to assemble them. He had excelled in his mechanical classes during his time at the academy. He could build practically anything, given enough resources and time.

He didn’t know how much he had of either, at the moment.

It felt like it took hours, to borrow a phrase from the humans, but eventually, Gir’s body was reassembled in front of him. Zim was shaking by the time he picked it up, moving the limbs carefully to test the range of motion. He could feel Dib’s eyes on him, averted whenever Zim glanced up. The human was staring, despite the fact that his hands were still working away on the gutted remains of Tak’s ship. The body was moving again, the joints a little stiff – but it was close enough. Close enough to working, close enough to functional. The way Gir had always been.

The stupid, tiny little robot had always been good at functioning against all odds.

His hands were shaking, still.

Taking a moment, feeling paranoid and panicked and almost like he was about to fall apart, Zim lifted his head and looked around. There, under the edge of the ship’s computer interface. A cord to charge a SIR unit. They only required a charge every few solar cycles but that was still often enough to require the equipment.

And Tak had never been one to go without.

Zim reached out and pulled on the cord, pushing aside the panel cover on Gir’s head, plugging him in, and setting him down gently.

Gir had been annoying at first, loud and strange and frustrating, but he had been one of the few constants of Zim’s life. He had been one of the few faces Zim could grow used to. Dib and Gaz had been some of the others – their old classmates had moved on, moved away, but the Membrane siblings had stayed. Familiarity bred fondness or something stupid like that. He never could keep some of the human sayings straight.

With nothing else to do, Zim reached up to touch his neck.

His translator had been ripped out.

Just another annoyance. A setback, a problem, an error, an issue –

He swore, vehement and furious, and he knew the humans wouldn’t hear anything other than an angry hiss. The Irken body hadn’t been arranged around the human languages. They were too heavy to sit right in the throat of an Irken. Zim had done his best for over a decade, but it had been hard.

And that was another thing that marked him as a failure of an Irken Invader.

He’d tried to learn about the culture he’d come into. He’d figured out the food and the clothes and the interactions, the way to speak with someone familiar and the way to speak with someone unknown. Over the last decade, Zim had learned about the planet he was living on. Earth had become something of a home. It had become a part of him. Something he couldn’t shake off – would never forget, even in the Earthen centuries he was looking at as part of an Irken’s natural lifespan. It had never been an easy road, had never been his favorite thing, but he had come to think of Earth as something like home. An Invader was supposed to invade, not take on the local culture and integrate.

Well, as best he could, anyway.

Zim sat there, the bottoms of his feet pressed together, his hands on his boots. He stared at Gir and willed the little robot back to life.

Gir had a habit of following his orders, even if he forgot that there was a time-sensitive component to them. Gir would wake up. He would listen to Zim, as he always did, and he would follow orders and come back and he wouldn’t –

Zim hissed, shoving the heel of his palm into his cheek.

He was not going to cry, was not going to show such weakness in front of Dib. It did not matter that Dib had known him for years, he was an Irken. A soldier in the Armada. A fighter, an Invader, he was—

…He had watched his leaders die.

His entire body twitched, suddenly aching as everything started catching up to him. Shoulders shaking, Zim doubled over on himself, curling his arms around his gut. His antenna twitched, his Pak sending out small distress signals. In the event of an Irken panicking, it was programmed to alert the others to a potentially disastrous change in an Irken’s mental state. Designed to keep them from falling to chaos and their fighting force falling apart. Zim pressed his face against the ground, still grabbing at his own clothes, and let himself fall still as best he could. On his home planet, this would be when another Invader might kill him. He was a failure of a soldier – too curious, too willing to study new things, too involved in mechanics, too optimistic. There had been minders over the years, those who taught smeets, who said he belonged to an older Irk. A version of their home that no longer existed. Their words had never been kind when they said it.

“Zim?” Dib’s voice was not enough to make him sit up and look around. Zim didn’t even turn his head to look at the human. The warmth of his skin was coming closer, settling a few feet away. “Is…Is Gir going to come back online?”

That time, Zim did look at him.

The human seemed to be hesitating over something. If they had been on the battlefield properly, staring each other down, this would be the perfect time for Dib to kill him. If they were actually fighting, Dib would have the right.

It would be his duty, even.

Zim turned his head to glance at Gir. The little robot’s lights were blinking dully, indicating a charging status. Knowing he wouldn’t be understood if he did speak, Zim just shrugged. “Okay,” Dib frowned, the light glinting off his glasses. “Is there anything I can get you? Anything you need?” he was hesitating, his hands curled up into gentle shapes. He wasn’t an Invader, wasn’t a soldier, wasn’t ready to kill. This wasn’t a battlefield, they weren’t enemies-to-the-death. Dib was a human he had fought with over the years, but the fights had never been anything more than over-the-top pranks and…

And…

Zim steadfastly ignored the squelching twist of his internals at the thought of what it reminded him of.

“Here,” Dib spoke up again, apparently taking Zim’s silence as an absolute dismissal. “I’m going to get you something to eat. Stay here. I think we’ve got – Well, I remember some of the snacks I’ve seen you eat, over the time you’ve been on Earth. I’ll be right back.”

He stood up slowly, brushing his knees off.

Zim clenched his teeth, then ignored the screeching fear that was building in his chest and reached out to take the human’s hand. Dib squawked and Zim hissed in return, dragging him closer. “Zim, I—” Dib froze when Zim pressed against his chest, rearranging quickly. Irkens weren’t meant to be vulnerable around others. They were meant to be infallible soldiers, fighting on even when their bodies were giving out. To be vulnerable around another was practically signing a death certificate yourself before neatly lying down and gesturing to where you wanted the weapon to go in.

But Dib was warm, familiar, and comforting.

Zim took a deep breath, letting his eyes slip shut, his claws digging into the fabric of Dib’s shirt.

Chapter Text

Dib stepped back from his bedroom door.

“He’s finally asleep, then?” Gaz’s voice was quieter than usual. She had found Dib with Zim draped across him and watched the struggle of getting a grabby alien going through a process of grief into a bed and away from one of the few things he had to remember a time from before things were quite this bad. She had gotten a little nicer over the years, but she was still his little sister. Dib turned to look at her, feeling like he was lost somewhere. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m not the one who just watched his leaders get murdered,” Dib muttered. “And before you even ask, yeah, okay, you’re right.”

Zim had always been weirdly tactile. Dib had just gotten used to it over the years. It was new to have all of Zim’s touch focused on him, however, because normally he just had to live with Zim’s focus being split between him, the plan he was working on, and whatever things he was holding. Being the full focus of Zim’s physical attention had brought it into sharp and breathtaking focus: He was in love with Zim. Lending him a shoulder to lean on, to cry on, a hand to hold while Zim broke down over his robotic companion – Dib knew, now. He had always been in love with him.

“So, uh,” Dib cleared his throat, walking away from his room to let Zim sleep. “How…How long have you known?”

Gaz stared at him, shoving her hands into the pockets of her dress. “Dib,” she rolled her eyes. “I think I’ve always known. From the first moment you started obsessing over him – that’s part of why I didn’t pick up on the ‘Alien’ part of things for a bit. You were being weird and conspiracy theorist about the new kid that everyone else was willing to buy had a skin condition. You spent so much time trying to be around him, obsessing over his every move, talking about him at lunch. One of the girls in your grade wanted to ask you to prom,” she shrugged. “But she knew you would probably turn her down in favor of focusing on Zim, again. You know there was a rumor that you two had been dating since middle school, right?”

Dib stared at her. “I…I did not.”

“Seriously?” Gaz scoffed, shaking her head. “How are you that ignorant of things going on around you? Oh, wait,” she pulled a hand free and waved something off. “Right, obsessed, I remember now.”

“I…Did we really seem like a couple?” Dib stared at her. There were a couple of pieces falling into place, a puzzle he had never really been interested in solving. His hands were shaking as they returned to the garage. Zim had carefully laid Gir out on the pilot’s seat of Tak’s ship, patting his little head as he left. The first thing he did was check on him – still charging. From the instructions he had managed to decipher and the systems he’d messed around with, he knew what the different blinking lights meant.

“He was just as obsessed as you,” Gaz leaned against the frame of Tak’s ship, crossing her arms. “Dib…It was like you guys had magnets drawing you to each other.” With a sigh, Gaz turned to stare at Gir. “There was a guy who was going to try and hurt you, once. Some stupid meathead, a couple of grades above you.”

“How do you know about it?”

“I move silently, people forget I’m there,” Gaz met his eyes. “But he was a junior, you were a freshman. He had planned to corner you after school and beat you up, just to show everyone was a ‘good fighter’ he was. You were a weird kid he knew he could get away with going after.”

“But that never happened. I never got beat up by a junior-year boy.” Dib frowned, crouching to double-check the cords leading from the ship to Gir. Zim’s worry had rubbed off on him, apparently. “Gaz, what happened?”

Gaz crouched down next to him. “Dib…Zim put that guy in the hospital. He broke his wrist, shouted at him about you being his target, then turned to the people gathering to watch and warned them off. Threatened them, really,” she turned her head, frowning. “When the guy tried to take a swing at Zim, after that, Zim just turned and put a boot into his gut. Without hesitating, without even thinking about it. He laid claim to you, Dib, and that’s when the rumors started.” She patted awkwardly at his shoulder. “So tell me what you’re looking at.”

“Gir is…Weird. I think he’s charging correctly. I’m trusting that Zim knows how to put him back together,” Dib chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to keep himself focused on the task in front of him.

Dating Zim since middle school?

If things were normal, right now, he’d be looking at that a little closer. If Zim were a human who understood emotional attachments in the same way Dib did, he would approach him and ask him out. There would be no hesitation in his actions, either. Gaz was right. He was in love with Zim and he could see how it looked from the outside, now that she had pointed it out. If they had met differently, with less animosity between them and fewer problems keeping them on different sides, Dib might have asked him out by now.

If Zim had been a human, Dib would have.

But this was their reality.

Zim was an alien. Currently, Zim was an alien who had just watched his leaders get murdered and the fate of his entire race be thrown up into the air with no hope of knowing where it would land. He was grieving one of the few creatures he knew closely, Dib could tell even without Zim being able to talk to him. Zim was also navigating having been rendered unable to speak in a way that someone would recognize on Earth.

Stuck amongst a species he considered enemies, without most of his defenses. His claws were ruined and ragged, his brain seemed to be running on whatever the Irken equivalent of adrenaline was, and he was managing everything he might need to manage to keep surviving.

His only allies were two humans he hadn’t always gotten along with.

“It would be unfair of me,” Dib muttered, his hands falling still on the dashboard of Tak’s ship. “To put this on him right now.” He took a deep breath. “You’re right, by the way. I am in love with him. Whatever that looks like with an alien, I want it. But,” he looked up at her, noticing the way she was staring at him. “Gaz, he just lost his leaders and went through something traumatic. Whatever they did to him, however they hurt him – it’s not fair of me to put my emotions on him right now. Not when he’s dealing with whatever else.”

“I know,” Gaz sighed. “And because you’re smart but dumb, you’re going to bottle this shit up, aren’t you?”

“He doesn’t need it, right now. Right now, he needs to rest. He needs to recover. We need to make it so he can talk again because I’m sure that’s not helping his mental state,” Dib curled his hands into loose fists, rapping them both lightly against the metal of the ship. “I’ve gotten him to talk about it, a little bit. When we weren’t trying to kill each other.”

“About what?”

“He’s something called an Invader. You might know that, too. He’s mentioned it before.” Dib stood up, pressing his back to Tak’s ship, and looked at the ceiling. “An advance military officer, sent to scout out a planet and take it over before the rest of the Armada arrives. Once the Armada arrives, there are leaders put into place, rules made, species subjugated, blah blah blah.” He groaned. “And then there’s Zim. Apparently, he was a part of a previous attempt to overtake the entirety of the cosmos. He ruined the invasion before it began. That’s part of why we had to deal with Tak, by the way. His actions ruined her career prospects, and she was denied the chance to be an Invader.”

“No wonder she was pissed at him,” Gaz frowned. “So…What?”

“What?”

“What’s the plan?”

Dib stared at her, his hands falling still. “I don’t know. At this point, I want to let him rest a bit and then get the full story from him. That means we need to figure out the translator issue sooner, rather than later. We need to figure out how to replicate one for him – or at least make something similar to what he had. We might need to figure out how to contact his home planet,” Dib closed his eyes, already dreading what that sentence meant before he’d finished saying it. “Damn it, we’re going to have to contact an alien species and explain that their leaders are dead.”

He dropped his face into his hands, pushing his glasses up his forehead.

“What happens in the meantime?” Gaz jabbed her knuckles into his shoulder, leaning against the ship with him. “Zim. If you two fight right now – One, you’re going to wreck the house, and dad will be pissed. Two, he’s probably going to die or something.”

He let his head drop back against the metal with a thud. “I don’t know. I’m not going to fight him.”

“He might actually be sad about that, though,” Gaz groaned. “Stupid boys who don’t know how to hit on each other without violence,” she elbowed him in the side, almost gently, and crossed her arms. “I mean, maybe if he could send a message, then his species would be better about it?”

“He could send a—” Dib jolted, his glasses almost flying off. He caught them, jammed them back onto his nose, then lunged for where Zim had left the raincoat.

A sign of trust. He had left it with Dib and Gir.

The tube containing the nanites that made up Zim’s lab rolled into his palm, oddly warm and heavy, and Dib stared at it. “We need to find someplace to set this up,” he turned to look at Gaz. “It’s his lab – it has all of his communication devices. That’s how he’ll be able to send a message back home. That’s how he’ll be able to warn his people. I’ve heard about them from him, enough. They’re soldiers, trying to conquer the entire universe, but they don’t deserve to be completely wiped out without warning.”

“The top comes out as his weird little house, right?” Gaz narrowed her eyes, chewing on her lip. “Set it up in the backyard.”

“Zim might not want to be that close to us.”

“I don’t think he gets a choice, right now.” Gaz shook her head. “Dib, we don’t know anything about what’s happening, not really. We don’t know if the ones that attacked him are coming after him right now.”

Dib choked, his hand clenching tight around the tube. “You’re right,” he muttered. “We really don’t.”

There was no way of knowing if the aliens who had captured and tortured Zim were coming after him again. No way of knowing if they were going after Zim’s people – an entire species, wiped out of the cosmos. With no warning, they would have no chance of surviving. He grabbed his jacket, yanking it on as fast as possible. “C’mon,” he looked at Gaz. “We’re going to figure this thing out and help him get settled back in, so he has a way to do what he needs to do.”

“Good,” Gaz grabbed for her coat, pulling it on. “Any worries?”

Pausing, Dib stared at her. “No,” he said after what felt like forever, the idea he was toying with turning over in his mind. “Zim may say he hates our planet and our species, but he’s always good to help save it. I’ve never seen him join up with an enemy to destroy it.”

Gaz nodded, then turned on her heel and headed for the door.

He could have sworn he heard her muttering about having to lead stupid boys to conclusions.

Chapter Text

Everything was quiet.

Too quiet. There wasn’t anything reassuring about how quiet the space around him was. He could smell Irken blood – too long on Earth, he knew how to immediately tell the difference between the iron tang of human blood and the sulfur of Irken. Sulfur, Zim sneered at himself. He really had been on Earth for too long. Thinking in human terms for his own biology.

He tried to move, tried to shift his arms, but found himself locked in place.

His antennae twitched and Zim froze.

Before he had blacked out, he had been wearing his disguise. Something had stripped it from him, revealed him as an Irken soldier. Humans? Had Dib finally gotten serious about turning him in, to be experimented on and ripped apart? No, Zim sniffed the air again, peering through the darkness around him. Irken blood, not his own, did not disguise the scent of another species. The darkness was too thick to see through, which meant that something was cloaking his senses. Something was keeping him from being able to see enough to determine his location.

A shiver of cold fear made him shake as recognition kicked in. The Baratoth. An old enemy of Irk – in millennia past, they had once hunted Irkens. Vicious, intelligent, bloodthirsty, and most importantly…

They wanted to return to that age.

The Tallest had assured their race that the Baratoth were gone. They had been hunted to the edges of the empire, all of Irk had been assured. Nothing but scraps left. Nothing left to return and haunt them, not even enough to pull together and pour into a cup. Zim kept his breathing controlled, feeling trapped and afraid in a way he hadn’t in so long. He had made it through almost a decade on Earth, had made it through the levels of schooling with the humans and their idiocy. He was supposed to be better than this, by now, more capable and stronger and unlikely to falter. He was an Invader, no matter what else was said or done.

“Oh good,” a voice drilled into his brain, the hissing click of a Baratoth’s voice. They had once shared a planet of origin, way back in their history, but the Irken race had pushed through and been victorious. They had driven the Baratoth off the planet – the oil slick look of the black plates of chitinous armor shone even in the dim light and Zim knew this was where he was going to die. “You’re awake, Irken.”

Every instinct in his body was screaming for him to run. To get out and away and run as far and as fast as he could. The instinctual part of his brain was running the show, no higher thinking currently available. His thoughts boiled down to getting away.

Where was Gir?

Where was he?

Zim stared as the lights came up a fraction. Baratoth could shed their armored plates and use them as a way to contain an Irken in a trap. The shells were slick to the touch and nearly impossible to puncture. They would line a hole with them, then chase Irkens into the hole. There would be no getting out, not without exposing themselves or getting immediately eaten by the waiting Baratoth. That was what had been blocking out his vision in the dark of the room – every single inch of open wall had been plastered with Baratoth shells.

There were huddled shapes across the room. He could see them now that the lights were on.

It was almost funny.

He hadn’t seen the Tallest without their armor in long time, longer than he’d been on Earth. Human thinking termed it as ‘Forever’ and he was tempted to agree – he almost didn’t remember the last time they hadn’t worn the purple and red armor of their rank. Huddled together, the thin forms of the Irken emperors shivered and looked around, fearful. “I almost don’t want to do this,” the Baratoth laughed. Zim stared at the monster he’d only ever seen in historical records and through video files. “Seems too easy, I mean. The emperors, stripped of armor and rank, the dysfunctional soldier, all collected in one room. But if Irk is going to pay for what has been done to my people, well…” there was a shrug of one massive shoulder. Zim grit his teeth together, looking briefly at the Tallest. They weren’t looking at him.

This was actually where he was going to die.

He was certain of it.

A heavy hand landed on his jaw and---

He woke up.

Diagnostics from his Pak told him he was recovering slowly. Recovering at all was better than the certainty of death he’d been facing not too long ago. Time warped and changed across the infinite darkness of the universe – different planets had different speeds, after all – but it had only been four days on Earth. The planet the Baratoth inhabited had seen nearly thirty years pass while he was kept there.

He'd been collected as an example.

As a warning.

Any Irken who rebelled against the coming invasion would be destroyed. Not killed. Left alive, damaged and ruined, and exhausted, as an example to others. He would have been the first example, shown off on arrival. The Irken symbols had been wrenched from the remains of the Tallest’s armor, the plan had been to graft them to Zim’s skin. A reminder of what happened to those who fought against the Baratoth as well as a living symbol of what had happened to the Irken leaders.

Curling up on the bed, Zim closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself. His antennae twitched, his hands clenching into fists. For a moment, a fleeting memory of a dream, he had been back there.

Back on that ship.

Surrounded by the enemy and faced with nothing but pain.

Even when he’d first landed on Earth, all those years ago, he hadn’t felt that isolated and in danger.

Zim kept his eyes closed, turning his head into the softness beneath him. There was a pleasant scent to the pillows and blankets. His antennae twitched a couple of times, his senses recalibrating as he sat there. Comfort and safety surrounded him, a tangible reminder that he was safe and away from the Baratoth crew who had tortured him and killed the Tallest. When he sat up slowly, looking around, he remembered exactly where he was.

Dib’s room.

From the strange posters that Zim knew showed off what humans thought aliens looked like to the mobile hanging from the ceiling with spaceships, it was obvious. The computer in the corner, with massive hard drives plugged in, was also a familiar sight.

He stood up slowly, no longer shaking when he put weight on his legs. He’d been unconscious for almost twelve hours, his Pak reported.

Zim moved through the room, exiting it quietly and making his way towards the garage Tak’s ship and Gir were in. Both of the humans were there, talking quietly about something as Dib used a screwdriver on the object in his hand. For a moment, panic and paranoia settling in, Zim thought it must have been a hologram. A normal day for the Membrane siblings, projected from his memories of spying on them over the years. Another moment passed and the idea slipped away as Dib looked up at him, going silent. His hands stilled. “Hey, Zim.” He swallowed, a nervous tick Zim had noted years ago. “How’d you sleep?”

With a slow nod, Zim moved towards where Gir was.

The robot had been moved into a sitting position, at some point. Zim turned his head to look at the humans. “Don’t look at us,” Gaz scoffed. “He was apparently doing some recalibrating or something? Dib said that’s what it was from the symbols on the screen.”

Gir was recalibrating.

Brushing his claws over Gir’s face, Zim closed his eyes and let relief sink through him. Gir was going to be okay. A SIR unit always recalibrated when charging correctly. There was still a need to keep him charging, but Gir would be okay.

“So,” Dib moved to sit next to Zim. “I think we got your lab set up correctly. I wanted to ask you about making a call to your people, maybe contact them and ask about some supplies. You need a translator, if nothing else.” He paused and Zim stared at him. “Can you do that?” he hesitated again. Zim motioned him back, not even bothering to try and speak – the humans wouldn’t understand him anyway. Once he was standing again, Zim moved towards the door, looking outside. “It’s not raining. It’s supposed to be cloudy, but no actual rain until later tonight.”

Zim pushed his way outside.

Like Dib had said, it was dry out. The air was heavier, rain building to fall, but it was safe for now. Zim moved across the lawn, towards where there was suddenly a familiar building. His home base, now set up next to Dib’s home.

A sign of trust?

Frowning, Zim looked at Dib. “You needed your resources back,” Dib shrugged. “I just hope I did it right. It seemed easy enough to figure out, but I don’t know if I messed it up somehow.”

When he’d collapsed it, he hadn’t changed the settings. If Dib hadn’t pressed any buttons other than the one on the side, it would have set itself back up as he’d ordered it to all those years ago. The nanites would have produced the camouflage building on top once more, created new, from his specifications. When Zim pulled on the front door, it opened. The alarms were silent, scanning the new arrival and cataloging him as Irken and the owner of the base.

“Is it right?” Dib was staying back, his hands clenched together.

Zim nodded.

Dib’s shoulders relaxed, a small smile on his face. “That’s good.”

They had never done this before. Even when they’d worked together in the past, there had never been any common ground between them other than wanting Earth to make it past the current threat. Zim had never willingly invited Dib inside his home – the Earth boy had often ended up there due to his own spying or because he’d been dragged inside. On the threshold of his base, Zim reached back outside and grabbed Dib’s shirt, pulling him inside.

“Oh, o-okay!” Dib flailed a little as Zim pulled on his shirt, following along obediently. They made their way down to Zim’s lab, moving in silence except for an occasional noise of fascination from the human.

Everything was where it was supposed to be, Zim knew before he even went looking. His tools, his supplies, his computers.

Computers.

“Computer?” Zim spoke up for the first time since realizing his translator had been removed.

“Irken language detected,” his computer system spoke up after a moment. “Proceed with changing preferred language to Irken?” Zim scoffed, telling it to stay in English. “Remaining in Earth language: English. Should I translate?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

That was going to be annoying very soon, Zim knew. He only needed to rely on it for a little while. “Open up a call to Irken home planet.” He ordered.

“Calling Irk,” the computer responded cheerily.

“Your computer can translate for you,” Dib stared at him as Zim settled into the chair in front of the video screen. “Of course, it can, I should have set this up immediately, oh my god.” He moved to the side, out of the view of the video feed, and fell silent.

“Invader—Oh, Zim.” The controller Irken who directed all calls had picked up. Did they even know that something had happened, yet? “What now?”

“Danger,” Zim hissed. “Baratoth.”

The controller paled. “You’re…You’re lying.”

Zim lifted his chin, showing the scar from where his translator had been ripped out. He held up his hands, showing off the damage to his claws. He turned his head for good measure, showing off the wound that Dib had helped clean. “Not lying,” he said quietly. “Held captive. Translator removed. Forced to watch the Tallest die. Baratoth race intends to return to Irk and assume control. Allied with humans, at the moment.” He held out a hand and gestured for Dib to move closer. “Humans acceptable allies, in these conditions. Request new translator and aid.”

With a slow nod, his eyes wide, his antennae almost flat against his head. “We will send a translator,” he tapped a few buttons on his end. No Irken had ever lied about the Baratoth. Not even Zim’s reputation was enough to make it come across as a joke or a lie. “We will send a ship to secure you and your allies at once. Diagnostics and repairs to follow.” He turned to the controllers next to him, all busy with their own calls, and called out an order. When he turned back, Zim realized Dib was staring at the screen. “Human, what is your name?”

“Dib Membrane,” Dib continued staring. “I don’t know what he’s saying, but you have to believe him. I’m the one who found him. I think they’re coming after him. He can still write, I have a translation software for that, and he said there was danger still coming.”

“The Baratoth are an old enemy of Irk,” the controller spoke slowly, narrowing his eyes at Dib. “They won’t stop until their target is destroyed.”

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Dib squared his shoulders and Zim wanted to laugh. In the eyes of the rest of the galaxy, Dib was an infant. There was something about it, however, that made Zim want to pull him close and not let go. It felt safe, trusting Dib. Despite everything that had happened between them, this squalling human child felt safe to be around. Zim reached out and took Dib’s wrist in his claws, looking back at the controller.

“Human allies show a high rate of allegiance towards those who are helping their planet,” he said as an explanation.

Seemingly satisfied, the controller tapped a few more buttons. “Expect a transport ship to your coordinates tomorrow,” he said. “Be ready.”

The call ended.

“Are we going with you?” Dib looked at Zim, letting Zim continue to hold his arm.

Zim nodded.

With a deep breath, Dib nodded back. “Okay,” he said, his voice quiet. “We should get ready, then.”

Chapter Text

He kept his hands in the pockets of the coat he’d chosen.

Warmer than his usual trench coat, heavier and sturdier. They were going to go into an unknown environment – he needed something he could wear if it got cold. He’d also grabbed a couple of shirts to layer, stuffing them into the bag he’d packed quickly. There were changes of clothes, some food, a couple of water bottles, and as much tech as he could cram into it as possible in the bag sitting at his feet.

Gaz, at his side, had a similar bag.

“What do we tell dad?” she looked at him, frowning. “Do we leave a note?”

Dib took a deep breath, looking back up at the sky. “I don’t know,” he turned to her. “We’ve never done this before – I mean, I’ve been out there,” he jerked his elbow towards the sky. “I fought Zim once, chased him out there. I’ve never been out there for so long that dad might notice. Besides, he doesn’t believe in aliens. He’s never listened to me about them, never believed me when I tried to tell him about Zim or any of the others.”

They heard an annoyed hiss from behind them and Dib glanced back. Zim was rummaging around the garage, grabbing a few tools here and there. His cruiser was on the grass in front of them, parked neatly. There was a scratch across the glass on the front of it, but Zim had assured them, through the screen of Tak’s ship, that it would be fine.

He’d loaded Gir, still charging, into his ship.

Watching as the alien kept moving, Dib frowned, his hands clenching in his pockets. “I’ve been involved in his life for so long,” he muttered.

“Which is how I knew, by the way,” Gaz muttered back. “About your stupid squishy feelings.”

“Gaz.”

“What?” she raised an eyebrow at him when he looked at her again. “He can’t hear me. He probably won’t, either – you’re around him. I get ignored when you’re around.” She smirked and Dib felt his face heating up. “Just remember to breathe, nerd.” She reached out and gently punched his upper arm, rolling her eyes. “I think we’ll be okay. The dork on the other end of that call seemed terrified. I think we’re going to be assets. Of the ‘Don’t kill them’ type.”

“That would make sense,” Dib took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “We should text dad, I guess?” he watched as she pulled out her phone, her fingers flying as she nodded. “What are you going to say?”

“We’re going to go visit a friend of yours,” she shrugged. “Close enough to the truth. And he’ll freak out less if he knows that. I’m nineteen, almost twenty, I only owe him a courtesy explanation of my location.” She finished typing her message out and sent it off, shoving her phone back into her pocket. She’d gone for a thicker jacket like he had, following his cue on how to dress.

Dib nodded, trying to ignore the anxiety building in his gut.

This was dangerous.

Not what they were about to do – though it probably was, too – but the situation they had found themselves in. An ancient enemy of an alien race, bent on destroying that race as revenge for them having once found a way to escape them forever?

He couldn’t have imagined something like this, as a kid.

He’d worked on the same side as Zim, before. Stopping Tak, the planet stealers, and a couple of others. There had been moments of them working together, saving the world on their terms. Zim had always said it was so he could conquer it instead of whatever attacker it was that time, but he’d never managed to do that. He’d never been more than an annoyance to Dib. Pretty much only to Dib. They’d had a rivalry and Zim had gone through the motions of going to high school with the rest of their class. He had settled into an Earth-based life. It was almost like he had gotten too fond of Earth to destroy it successfully.

Or maybe Zim was just bad at conquering planets.

His plots were vague, rough estimates of possibilities instead of concrete plans. A giant hamster, a giant water balloon – it was all, in the end, almost harmless. A little destructive, and a little weird, but not deadly.

A giant mech suit that needed to be plugged in.

Dib almost laughed at that memory, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip. He heard steps behind him that stopped his laughter, however. Zim was standing there, an umbrella in his hands. His eyes were focused on his cruiser, determined and focused. Dib nodded at him, lifting his chin, and Zim tilted his head down in return. They’d known each other for about ten years, Earth time, and he knew pretty much how Zim would react to things. He moved past Dib and into the cruiser, collapsing the umbrella as he curled up in the pilot’s seat. Dib held out a hand for it. “I’ll shake it off out here,” he explained when Zim looked at him.

Zim nodded, tapping a few buttons and hissing softly when one of his damaged claws had to be used. He turned to look at Gir, prodding carefully at his head.

Gir hadn’t moved since the recalibration stage.

He didn’t know if that was bad or good. He didn’t know if Gir was going to wake up. He didn’t know enough. Dib shook the umbrella off several feet from the cruiser, until it was dry, then curled it back up and moved under the cover of the cruiser and the building again. That was something he could do, something he knew. He hated feeling useless and, aside from helping Zim get his base set back up, he’d been useless for all of what had happened.

Gaz stared at him as he moved to stand next to her again. Inside the cruiser, Zim was tapping carefully at the screen.

“Did you warn them about water?” Dib frowned as he leaned into the cruiser to speak to Zim. The Irken writing across the screen was harder to read when it moved that fast, but he still caught bits and pieces. Something about diagnostics, Sir, stuff he didn’t catch. “Wait, does that have a typo? I thought his name was Gir. Have I been calling him the wrong thing for a decade?”

Zim hissed something at him, his eyes rolling as his antennae twitched. He shook his head, shrugging.

“…Did you name him something different from what they called him?”

When Zim shook his head again, Dib frowned. Gir wasn’t part of a standardized collection, then. He wasn’t what they’d programmed him to be. Zim had mentioned that he had malfunctions, before. He was a hyper, high-pitched, insane robot. Tak had one too, Dib recalled. She’d called hers something different. If Gir was a malfunctioning version of the terrifyingly competent robot Tak had at her side, what did that say about Zim?

Was that why Zim was the way he was?

Neither of them was right, by Irken standards. Zim wasn’t what he was supposed to be, based on the reaction he’d gotten when he’d called his homeworld. They didn’t like him.

For the first time ever, Dib thought he understood Zim a little.

Overhead, he heard something hiss, an engine noise of some kind. Without thinking, Dib moved in front of Zim, blocking him from view. He and Gaz watched as a ship landed in front of them, a black insignia on it that Dib had seen on some of Zim’s things before. “Is that them?” He whispered over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the ship. Zim’s claws squeezed his arm for a second before the Invader was pushing past him, standing on his own under the cover of the open cruiser door. Gir was in his arms, unplugged.

The ship opened.

With another hiss, a door swung up, allowing an Irken to step into view. They stood there, quiet, with something in their hands as they stared at Zim. Zim stood up a little straighter, his breathing heavy, before he nodded. Dib opened the umbrella again, holding it above him as he started moving to the ship. He’d grabbed his bag before moving, Gaz doing the same.

“A moving cover?” the unknown Irken spoke up.

“The rain on this planet is toxic to your people,” Dib explained. “It burns your skin. All of our water does. I would think he’d have told you about that, before.”

“…We may have received a report on this matter,” the Irken ducked their head, not meeting his eyes. “We had no proof that it was a truth. Invader Zim is known for exaggerations. Too loud, too focused on the wrong goals.” They shifted, uncomfortable, as Dib stared them down. He waited until Gaz and Zim had made it inside the ship, then folded down the umbrella, shaking it off outside the ship. “Look, if you’ve truly dealt with him for as long as he has been here, you know what he is like.”

“Yeah,” Dib shrugged as he walked inside. “And I’ve never known him to outright lie about something like that.”

He ignored the Irken as he sat down next to Zim, crossing his arms and doing his best to look intimidating. If Zim was going to be attacked or yelled at, he was going to sit right where he was and keep the alien safe. Both the fact that he was in love with Zim and the fact that Zim was one of the few people who knew what his life was like kept him there, protective and angry. Dib watched as the unknown Irken moved around the ship, pressing buttons and moving switches. “I am Medical Technician Ke,” they put a clawed hand to their chest. “While we make the return flight to Irk, there are things that must be done. According to the scans I performed when I breached the atmosphere of your planet, there is a difference in the air. You and your ally will need to be fitted with equipment to allow you to breathe easily. Invader Zim will need to have a new translator implanted.”

“How long does that take?” Dib raised an eyebrow.

“Minutes,” Ke shrugged. The antennae on their head were the same as Zim’s, not curled like Tak’s had been. If Dib had to guess, he’d say that Ke was a male of the Irken species. “Your language is strange. Time is measured differently.”

“Yeah,” Dib shrugged. “It’s just like that on Earth.”

Gaz stayed quiet, sitting on the other side of Zim. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, her game console in her hands but her fingers unmoving. She looked tensed, ready to move if necessary. He could see the white-knuckled grip she had on her console.

Ke picked up a device that looked like a giant syringe, holding it up for Zim to see. “Since your original translator was torn out, your new one will need to go lower in your throat.” When Zim nodded and tilted his head up, Ke moved forward and felt around his neck for a few seconds, pressing the tip of the device against Zim’s skin. Dib watched carefully, a little wary of how sharp the device was. It made sense – it needed to puncture skin and Zim’s skin was pretty thick. Seeing Ke standing in front of Zim, barely reaching his throat even with Zim sitting down, Dib was made aware for the first time how short Zim had actually been when he’d come to Earth.

Zim’s hand grabbed for Dib’s when the device slid into his throat, squeezing as Ke adjusted settings and buttons on the machine he held.

It seemed to take forever, though it was probably only a few minutes.

When Ke stepped away, Zim curled into himself again. “The Baratoth aren’t known for being gentle,” Ke had his head angled down, rubbing what Dib knew was a cleaning wipe over the device. “Normally, an Invader would be decommissioned for reacting with fear and pain to a translator being placed. There are…Exceptions,” he looked up, blinking slowly when he met Dib’s eyes.

“When I found him, he was worse off,” Dib muttered, still holding Zim’s hand. “This is, actually, kind of healed.”

“I’ve seen worse from the Baratoth,” Ke grimaced. “I’ve seen Invaders come back to Irk in pieces. Run into one or more of them out in the universe and risk not coming back at all.” He turned to Zim again, holding up another cleaning swab. “Lean your head back, Invader.”

Zim did, a hiss escaping him as he moved.

“Translator placed,” Ke muttered. He swiped over the new puncture in Zim’s skin, cleaning it quickly and precisely. “Keep quiet for a time, Invader. Let the translator assimilate information from your Pak. The languages you’ve assimilated will transfer over soon, but you must let them do so.” He glanced at Gaz, who still had her eyes pinned to the screen of her console. “As for the two of you,” he stepped back, gesturing to a screen that had descended at some point. “Irk has a similar atmospheric makeup to Earth, but there is less oxygen in our environment. Sixteen percent compared to your twenty-one percent.” The screen flashed Irken writing, then an English translation next to it. “I have been sent to collect the three of you with equipment to provide oxygen to make up for the deficiency.”

“That’s good,” Dib nodded. “Anything else we should know?”

Ke sighed. “That Invader Zim is Tall, now. The Tallest.” He put his face in his hands, shaking his head. “This complicates matters.”

“How?” Gaz spoke up for the first time since entering the ship.

“Our leaders are our Tallest,” Ke let his head roll back, antennae twitching. “Zim has not only witnessed the deaths of our previous Tallest, but he is now the Tallest. He is injured and managed to escape from our oldest enemy to warn us of their return.” He gestured at Zim. “But he was sent away on a mission to lead to his death or disappearance.”

Zim bared his teeth at Ke, leaning further into Dib.

Gaz frowned. “So, wait – You sent him away and you think he owes you anything?” she stood up, her console clenched in one hand, the other curling into a fist. “He warned you. He told you the bad thing was coming. He doesn’t owe you anything. He especially doesn’t owe you leadership after the shit you pulled on him.”

Ke hesitated, staring at Gaz with wide eyes.

Dib looked at Zim, who had Gir back in his arms. Their hands were still connected, a point of contact that seemed to reassure the alien that he was going to be okay. His claws were clenched into Dib’s hand, squeezing occasionally like he wanted the reminder that Dib was actually there.

Gaz had a temper, Dib knew.

And he was going to let her work with it.

Chapter Text

Medical Technician Ke.

He’d met him before. He was known for being quick and competent, unwilling to let others speak over him. Dib had thrown him off, Zim knew. Ke wasn’t used to others speaking back or being annoyed with him. His mouth curled into a small smirk as he sat next to Dib, Gir held against him like he could will the robot back to life. Ke could see how it felt, for once, to be ignored and brushed off like he wasn’t important.

Dib wasn’t giving him space or time to be anything else, at the moment.

Gaz seemed to have taken to it as well, her hand clenched in anger that Zim had seen thrown at her brother more than once. Usually, if she looked like that, Dib would back away slowly and do his best to appease his beast of a sister.

Gaz was wrong, though.

Zim was the Tallest, now. He knew the records and knew how to translate the numbers from Earth to Irk. It didn’t matter if he didn’t want to be, he would be the leader of Irk. Even if others would probably be angry about it, he would be their leader. Gaz was wrong – he did owe it to his people. The Baratoth had come and destroyed their leaders, he was the only living record of what had happened. His body shook as he closed his eyes, trying to keep the memories of his run for safety away.

He'd managed to slip out, managed to use a Baratoth as a barrier against the slick shells lining the wall. With a sharp push, his Pak still connected but disabled, Zim had managed to shove a Baratoth guard into the chitinous shells lining the wall, climb up the front of the guard, and slip into the vents.

Once he’d gotten out of sight, hiding in the walls, he’d managed to find an escape pod.

They’d launched Gir out of an airlock when he’d switched into Defensive Mode, breaking through a door of their ship in an attempt to reach Zim. Gir had clung to their claws, cackling and shrieking as they tried to destroy him – he probably hadn’t even realized it was dangerous. He’d probably thought it was a game or something.

Clinging a little tighter to Gir’s body, Zim opened his eyes.

Ke was staring at Gaz, eyes wide, his antennae twitching as he shrunk back from her. Zim knew the fear he could see there, knew it well. He had experienced it himself, after all, and Ke had gotten no warning.

As funny as it was, though, he needed Ke to look at his Pak and make sure it still worked. Nudging Dib’s arm, Zim gestured to his back when Dib looked at him. “Gaz,” Dib spoke up, calling his sister’s rage onto him. “Zim needs him to look over some more stuff. The call yesterday, they mentioned diagnostics and repairs. His Pak is damaged, I think,” he sighed when Zim nodded. The human was always smarter than he gave himself credit for. “Medical Technician Ke, could you please continue working?”

Ke coughed, brushing himself off. “Of course,” he nodded. He moved forward, giving Gaz a wide berth as he did.

Zim followed his gestures, sitting down on the ground so Ke could reach his Pak.

“We will need to have a conversation about his height when we reach Irk,” Ke muttered. “There are those who would demand he be culled. There are also those who would praise him as our new leader, I think.”

“One-to-one, I think Zim has won the most battles,” Dib shrugged. “I think he’d be a pretty good choice.”

“…Battles?” Zim felt Ke’s hands twitch. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Dib gestured in the helpless way he always did when he couldn’t find his words. Zim had watched the gesture develop over the years, watched it become a permanent part of his human. “We’ve had to fight to protect Earth together, before. The Planet Jackers came to throw Earth into a dying star.”

“We had to deal with Tak,” Gaz added.

“And there have been other threats, too,” Dib perched his chin in his hands. “Some of them came from him, set on destroying the world instead of conquering it, but…He has protected Earth before. Oh, the creepy babies. I didn’t see those ones, personally, but Zim had to deal with them.”

“The Nhar-Gh’ok?” Ke took a step back. “You had to – You, of all Invaders, fought off the Nhar-Gh’ok?”

Zim turned his head to look at Ke.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. When Zim grinned at him, slowly, Ke went pale. Ke twitched again, his tools shifting in his hands. “I will want a full diagnostic done on your Pak,” Ke finally spoke, his eyes darting all over Zim’s face. “That you have survived several encounters tells me…And your human allies know about them?” He glanced at Dib and Gaz, shaking his head. “You have trusted them for so long.”

He clicked something into Zim’s Pak, the ship’s computer synching up and reading through forty years of data.

Ke moved around to see Zim’s face, gesturing for his claws.

Holding them up, Zim let him clean off the blood, and trim the sharp and broken edges. It would take a while for them to grow back, but they would. They had been a very small, insignificant really, price to pay to get out alive. He’d used them to claw his way up a wall, unable to use his Pak to climb. They had snapped and broken under the pressure and strain. “Incredible,” Ke breathed the word out as he worked. “You have not only survived the Nhar-Gh’ok, but the Baratoth. The Planet Jackers, as well.” He put a clawed hand over his mouth, taking a moment to breathe. “Not only proving yourself to be a competent Invader, but a Soldier.” He reached back in to continue his work.

He glanced up at the screens around them, his mouth falling open at what he saw.

Paks registered Irken life signs.

Those that belonged to the wearer of the Pak as well as any other Irken around. The entire Irken race would probably be able to identify the biosignature of their Tallest. Ke watched the data as it hurtled towards an ending Zim had seen personally.

When it crashed, their lives snuffed out, he threw his claws over his mouth, stepping back and away with an expression that said he was going to be sick. Zim watched as he fell to the floor. Dib reached out and put his hand on Zim’s arm, silent as he looked at the data he couldn’t translate fast enough to read. Zim reached up and put his claws over Dib’s hand, trying to keep himself calm. Ke retched as the data continued, uncaring about how it made anyone feel.

“I’m guessing that’s bad,” Gaz spoke again, moving so she was crouching next to Zim and Dib.

“I had thought, perhaps, that Zim was tricked. That he was lied to, that our Tallest were merely held captive and a lie formed. The Baratoth are malicious, they take pleasure in seeing our pain,” Ke shook his head. “That sort of behavior would not be out of line with past experiences. Lying to keep captives, torturing them slowly while saying they were already dead.”

Zim shook his head.

“But…” Ke looked at him, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. His antennae twitched, jerking down. “You saw it happen.”

He stood up.

Brushing himself off, Ke moved over to the computer, sending out a signal to Irken Command. The call picked up, the Navigator on the other end looking startled to see them all together. “Medical Technician Ke,” she greeted. “What is happening?”

“Invader Zim personally witnessed the deaths of the Tallest,” Ke’s head drooped, his posture tight. “They are, truthfully, dead. The Baratoth slaughtered them while he watched.”

“Status report?” her voice shook. Zim could hear it.

“Invader Zim is injured, but still capable. Unrecorded battles for the sake of Earth have happened while he was there, the results being his victory over all enemies. The Planet Jackers, the Nhar-Gh’ok, and a rogue Invader. Invader Zim was the victor.” Ke gestured at Dib and Gaz. Zim wanted to hiss at him, at the way he seemed almost dismissive of them. “These humans have been his allies in these battles. They have helped see to his victories, have helped see to his survival. His Pak picks up their biosignatures as if they were members of the Armada.”

Zim glanced at Dib when the human froze, his hand still on Zim’s arm.

Something he hadn’t told them.  

Around the time he’d realized he liked Earth, he’d programmed his Pak to keep watch over their biosignatures. He’d never said anything. He hadn’t thought he would ever need to. Dib and Gaz were allies when it mattered, a fun fight when they didn’t need to be on the same side.

It was amusing to watch Dib find counters to his plans.

Fun.

Irkens didn’t value fun. Amusement, yes, but never fun. Zim had fun in his fights with Dib, never anything too out of hand. Nothing too big. The memories of their fights had gotten him through his time with the Baratoth, better days to think about when he needed to ignore the pain. Dib had been something to think about when he needed to anchor himself. Climbing up a wall, breaking his claws, and bleeding, getting back to Earth had been his goal.

And, when he had landed again, curled up with his base in his hands, he had been almost passed out with a thought of calling to Dib for help.

It had been a stroke of luck that Dib had come to find him.

Ke watched the three of them, still speaking with the Navigator. Zim stared back at him, keeping his head held high. Dib’s hand in his tightened. “Did…Do you really have us in your Pak?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual. Zim turned to look at him, meeting his eyes with a little bit of reluctance. When he nodded, Dib nodded back. “Okay. That explains how you find us when things are happening. You keep an eye on us like we’re a part of your group.”

“We’re his allies, dumbass,” Gaz snorted. “I’m not surprised he keeps track of us.”

“I’m not really surprised, either,” Dib shrugged. “But…I just hadn’t realized we were that important in the scheme of things.” Zim squeezed his hand a little tighter, breathing deeply. “It makes sense. And…And thank you. For keeping track of us. There’s some stuff I know we might not have survived without it, in retrospect.”

Another thing Irkens did not give in to that Zim always felt around Dib: Possessiveness.

That was his human. Gaz was a part of the deal, always trailing behind her brother to make sure he didn’t die when he did whatever it was his big brain demanded he do, but Dib was his. His to fight, to argue with, to bounce ideas off of. They were a pair, no matter what, and Zim would gladly fight anyone who tried to hurt Dib or take him away. If something happened to Dib, it would be because of him, not because of anyone else.

The ship rocked gently, the two cruisers loaded on, and Medical Technician Ke finished his call with the Navigator. “We are due to take off,” he informed them all.

Zim held up Gir, waiting.  

“He needs to be charged, I’m pretty sure,” Dib spoke up for him. “Zim put him back together after he was taken apart somehow. The ones who took Zim did something to him. He’s been recalibrated, he just needs to be connected to a power source so he can wake up.” He kept holding Zim’s hand, refusing to let go. Gaz stared at Ke, as if she were daring him to say something to allow her to attack. He’d chosen his allies well, Zim decided. His human and the sister were on his side.

“Of course,” Ke took Gir’s body from Zim, moving over to the charging station and plugging him in. He seemed to be skirting around Gaz, afraid of letting her too close to him.

As aggressive a guard as any other he had ever known.

Among the Irken, Gaz would be a legend. She defended like a soldier, stationed herself in between those she even reluctantly cared about and those who might be a threat. She and him had never gotten along the best, but she was on his side.

And now he was the Tallest.

That thought kept creeping up on him, terrifying and overwhelming all at once. He hadn’t been trained for the position. Hadn’t been expected to lead, not after everything he had done. Not with his height when he had left Irk. Time spent on Earth had changed things, had changed him. Even he could tell – maybe Irken Command would be able to tell.

He had never been chosen to lead.

But now he would have to.

Chapter Text

Zim had kept them safe when they’d teamed up, before.

Dib stared at the screen above the bed he’d been given, watched as a set of numbers and words in Irken flashed across it slowly. Slow enough for him to read and translate, set up by Ke once Dib had revealed he could read their language if it went at the right speed. Information about Zim’s health and recovery, information about Gaz, information about him. The stars blurred past the windows of the ship, bright and so close by that he could probably touch them if he were outside.

Across the room, in another bed – what was probably a soldier’s bunk, now that he thought about it – Gaz was asleep.

With the speed they were going, it was apparently going to just be a few days to reach Irk.

He wanted to check on Zim. Ke had attached him and his Pak to the machines in the medical bay and had set Gir up to charge in a corner. Once that had all been done, he’d shooed Dib and Gaz away, telling them it was best to let Zim heal quietly.

Looking up at the screen again, Dib chewed on his bottom lip. He sat up slowly, putting his feet on the floor, then stood up. They weren’t prisoners. He could probably get away with walking around the ship, right?

Right.

Slipping his boots back on, Dib headed for the door. A tap on the pad next to it had it sliding open, and he stepped out into the hallway. The ship was a blend of soft noises – clicks and beeps as it sped through space, gently humming as he listened. Irken technology always seemed to be like that, Dib realized. Tak’s ship had been so quiet when she’d arrived that he hadn’t even picked up on her until she’d gone pretty much nuclear in her attempts at taking over. Walking down the hall, Dib kept looking around, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“What is wrong?”

A voice startled him into turning. Another Irken, not Ke, was standing there. From the curling of the antennae, he was pretty sure that was a female Irken. “Nothing’s wrong, really,” Dib shrugged. “I’m just worried about Zim and Gir.”

“…Worried?” her eyes narrowed, her mouth twisted down at the corners. “What is ‘worried’? The word translates into almost nothing.”

“Worried is…Well,” Dib frowned. Did Irkens not have worry in their language? “Concerned, I guess.”

“He is unable and unlikely to cause harm,” she answered promptly.

“No,” Dib sighed, rubbing a hand on his cheek. “I mean…Worried. I want to know if he’s okay.” She kept staring at him, her antennae twitching. “If he’s healing. I want to check on his progress?” he shrugged helplessly. If Irkens didn’t have emotional words in their language, that might explain some of why Zim was the way he was. “I want to make sure he’s getting better.”

“Oh,” she nodded. “Follow me.”

Dib followed as she walked away, tucking his hand back into his pocket.

She led him into the medical bay, stopping a few feet from the place they’d plugged Zim in. He was still there, his eyes closed, Gir charging next to him. “He is healing,” she spoke again. “I am Medical Technician Ke’s assistant, Sklet. Invader Zim…” she trailed off, took a deep breath, then started again. “Tallest Zim’s healing progress is acceptable. There will be scars from dealing with the Baratoth, but he will heal in all other aspects. His claws will grow back, his Pak is reading correctly, and his SIR unit is back online.”

“Is it okay if I stay here, for a bit?” Dib looked at her, swallowing nervously. “I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“It is appropriate. You are his ally, you have kept at his side for all this time,” Sklet nodded. “A soldier of a sort, I assume.”

There wasn’t really any other way to describe it, not unless he was willing to go around and around about the differences in their languages. “Yeah,” Dib settled on the ground in front of Zim. “I couldn’t sleep, I wanted to check on him.”

“Wanted?” Sklet frowned. “Wanting is for things. For food.”

“Humans and Irkens are a bit different,” he explained. Sitting, he was the same height as her. “Humans get worried about their frie—allies.” She probably wouldn’t understand friends as a concept. The word friendly, maybe, but probably not the concept of people to hang out with. “We want to make sure they’re okay when they’re hurt. We like making sure they’re safe. If I had a way to do it, I’d probably have brought him snacks and something to do when he’s awake.”

“Humans are odd,” Sklet muttered. “Showing care for each other and for their allies.” With a shake of her head, she sat next to him. “Care is weakness, for an Irken. Allies are temporary, an alliance is only made to get through a situation or a battle.”

Dib leaned back on his hands, stretching his neck. Something popped. “Humans are loyal, in a lot of ways. Not just to their own species, but to the people they care about. We keep creatures we care about in our houses. My sister had a pet hamster when we were little. We had a cat for a while.”

“What was the purpose?”

“They were cute,” it was like Irkens had no concept of anything other than necessity. “We liked having them there, so we fed them and we enjoyed their company.”

Sklet stared at him, her eyes narrowed. “An unnecessary strain on your resources.”

“Humans like company. Humans like having things around that make them happy.” Dib shrugged. “We have different emotional needs, I guess.” He smiled when Sklet made a face he could only think of as affronted. “We lean into our emotions. They help us keep moving when things are hard.”

“Emotions are dangerous. Useless. Anger is a motivation, but others are…” Sklet paused. “Damaging. They slow an Invader’s reactions. There is a reason our breeding stock, the genetics bank used, have been selected to be rid of them.”

Something cold washed through Dib’s chest at that. “And, uh,” he cleared his throat. “How many disgraced Invaders are there because of that?”

“A number of each generation,” Sklet’s head tilted as she looked at him. “Why?”

“Is emotion discarded?”

“As best it can be. There are exceptions, of course, but the emotions involved in your…Worry are not one of them.”

“Huh,” Dib looked at Zim. He was always going off on some emotional bend. In his schemes, he was always laughing and taunting. When he worked with Dib and Gaz for something, he showed concern about them. He had been so scared that Gir wouldn’t wake up again, clutching at him like a stuffed animal. Zim was fueled by his emotions – that’s what it always felt like, anyway – and that was why Dib had always felt a little connected to him. They were too much alike, sometimes. He’d seen Zim scared, angry, happy, annoyed, and concerned for others.

Zim was a malfunctioning Irken, according to modern standards.

What had the species previously been like?

If their enemies were all like the Baratoth, the things that gave Zim such bad nightmares he’d been pretty much screaming in his sleep, Dib was just about sure he knew why things had changed. If you couldn’t feel fear, couldn’t be scared and lonely, and were just a part of a group – it was harder to get caught. Harder to get drawn away and dragged off to die.

But Zim had mentioned that Invaders were sent to new planets alone.

There was still a lot Dib didn’t know about Irkens. He would have to do more research, maybe poke around once they got to their home planet and things were, hopefully, calmed down.

Sklet was quiet for a while, her claws clicking together occasionally, before she turned to look at him. Her eyes were wider than they had been before, her claws curled together. “Why do you worry for him?”

“I’ve known him for a while,” Dib shrugged again. “I’m twenty-one, now. Years, by the way. Earth terms. I met him when I was eleven. We started out against each other. Didn’t like each other at the start. He was trying to take over my planet, I was trying to stop him – and then it just changed.” He looked at Sklet, feeling a small smile on his face. “He stopped trying to outright get rid of me. His plans were less about destroying and more about other things.”

“He is fond of you,” Sklet glanced at the screens surrounding Zim. “His Pak registers your life signs. He views you as a valuable ally. His emotions,” her gaze shifted onto Zim, blinking a couple of times. “Seem to be an asset, if he has truly fought the battles recorded within his Pak.”

“He’s smart,” Dib wanted to say more than that, wanted to argue about how useful emotions were, but there was a lot he still didn’t know about Zim’s species. He wouldn’t go into the difference between intelligence and wisdom, yet, not when he wasn’t sure about the difference in the meanings of the words he might use and what Sklet might understand. “In the time I’ve known him, he’s made things work out for him pretty much no matter what. Even when things look like they’re going to fall apart, he comes out successful.”

Sklet stayed silent, still looking at Zim.

“And if he managed to escape from the Baratoth,” Dib rearranged, his hands in his lap, his shoulders hunched. “Maybe that’s worth listening to.”

She turned to look at him, something lost in her expression. “They are our oldest enemies. Invader Zim had no previous encounters with their forces. He has, somehow, managed to escape from them and bring back information regarding their fighting styles, their weapons, their main ship, and their interrogation tactics.” Sklet shook her head slowly. “I have never before seen an Invader do such a thing.”

“He’s good at things like that,” Dib nodded. “He always has been.”

“So it would seem.”

Arriving at Irk felt like it should have taken longer.

Dib stayed in the medical bay for most of the trip, was there when Zim woke up again. His Pak was reconnected, everything was back in working order, and Gir was still charging. Gaz had taken to asking the pilots questions about the ship’s systems or spending her time sitting in silence next to Dib, playing her games. She’d been there every time Zim had woken up, every time Sklet and Ke checked his status or changed something around. If Dib had been worried about something, Gaz had been the one making sure he got actual answers, not just brushed off.

For every time they fought, Gaz always made sure he knew she actually cared about him in some way. It was nice to have his sister’s support.

Zim was staring out the windows as they flew towards his home planet, his claws curling and uncurling as he watched it get bigger. “It’s okay,” Dib muttered to him, brushing the backs of their hands together. “Whatever happens, you’ve got me and Gaz on your side.” She looked up at her name, stared at them both for a moment, then nodded and went back to whatever she was playing. “I’m not going to abandon you.”

“That helps very little, sometimes,” Zim’s voice was still hoarse, the damage to his throat taking longer to heal than Ke was happy with, as far as Dib could tell. Sklet had been straightforward with her explanations, with Zim’s chances of healing completely. “One human against the entirety of the Irken Empire.”

There was a chance it would never heal completely.

“Two,” Gaz grumbled. “Still not great odds, but don’t you dare forget I’m here.”

Zim’s antennae twitched, a fraction of his usual self showing through the emotional armor he was trying to keep on. The edges of his mouth curved upward, his eyes squinting as she went back to ignoring both of them. “Two humans, then,” he huffed out a sound that may have been a laugh if his throat had felt better. “Still not great odds,” he agreed.

“Better than being alone?” Dib suggested awkwardly.

“Better than being alone,” Zim agreed to that, too. “But this is…” he looked at his planet again, taking a few seconds to just breathe. “I have not returned to Irk since being sent away. If the Baratoth had not attacked me, I would not be returning now. I am very aware of my status, Dibstink.” He put a hand on Gir’s head, holding onto him like it would help calm him down. It might have, given how long the weird little robot had been in his life. “I am aware that I am bringing the worst news with me.”

“And you’re probably about to be stuck being the leader of a bunch of people that have issues with you.” Dib frowned, gritting his teeth. “Yeah, that sucks, but – Zim, you did something incredible. I’ve been talking with Ke and Sklet. You made it back, alive, on your own, after an encounter with an enemy who has killed every Irken they’ve ever been around.”

“I snuck out.” Zim muttered.

“So? You managed to use enough caution and stealth to get away from them.” Dib shook his head, tapping his knuckles gently against Zim’s hand. Every time he touched Zim, his heart went racing a little faster. He hoped it wasn’t getting noticed.

Zim would have enough to deal with in the near future. He didn’t need to deal with Dib, right now.

Blinking a couple of times, Zim kept staring at Irk. “What?”

“You did something no other member of your species has ever done,” Dib continued. “You got away, alive, with enough information to warn everyone. The Baratoth are coming back. You’re going to warn all of them and keep them safe.” He shrugged. “I think that’s enough to come back with and gain respect for. You did good. You got away. That’s better than no survivors and whoops, there goes an entire species and planet.”

Slowly, Zim looked at Dib again. He hesitated, then reached out and took Dib’s hand. “And you will stand with Zim, in front of them?”

“Zim,” Dib wanted to laugh, wanted to lean into him, but he just smiled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gaz narrowing her eyes at him, her game paused so she could judge him. Her eyebrows raised, her mouth twisted, and then she looked away again. Please, Dib silently begged her. Please don’t say anything yet.

“We have fought.”

“Yeah, well,” Dib made a noise he hoped Zim understood. “So have a lot of people. You stopped trying to really destroy Earth, so I would say that makes it better.”

He would keep his feelings to himself, keep them tucked away until a better time. He would stand at Zim’s side and keep him alive.

That was the only thing he could do, right now.

Chapter Text

He stayed silent as Dib and Gaz were fitted with atmospheric converters.

Irk would eventually prove to be poisonous to them, if they weren’t careful. Earth was based in oxygen, something that had been harder to get used to than Zim had wanted it to be. It had taken weeks for his atmospheric converter to work properly. Theirs were being fitted onto their backs, under their clothing, to keep them hidden from those who might attack them. Zim looked out of the ship, up at all of the Armada that had returned to Irk once the signal had been sent.

The main ship of the Armada was missing. The Tallest’s ship was destroyed, somewhere in the galaxy, and no one had survived.

Zim took a deep breath, then lifted his head. Medical Technician Ke turned to look at him, his mouth open, before he closed it again and nodded. “Invader Zim,” he hesitated, then started again. “Tallest Zim,” he addressed more formally. “We are your support.”

He almost choked at those words.

Ke and Sklet were standing together in support of him? Ke was not the head of the medical branch of the Armada, but he was only a few ranks below. If he gave his support, there were a lot of others who would as well.

The pilots stepped into the medical bay, both of them focused on the floor, a salute performed in synch. “Tallest Zim,” one of them said. “We have arrived on Irk. We will be your guard.”

“Names?” Zim hated the rough feeling in his throat.

“Pilots Nent and Slat,” the other one spoke up, gesturing as he said their names. “With the ranks of Soldier and Invader, as well. With the urgency of the situation, we were selected as pilots on this mission to ensure the survival of Medical Technician Ke, Medical Assistant Sklet, and Tallest Zim.” When Slat looked up, Zim met his eyes and nodded. “With your permission and orders, we will also set a guard for your allies.” He waited, glancing at Dib and Gaz with something sort of like curiosity in his eyes.

“Guard them both,” Zim nodded. “They have been important in my mission and my survival. They got me to safety when I escaped from the Baratoth. Keep them alive,” he paused, looking at both of them. “Select your soldiers carefully. Neither of them comes to any harm,” he curled his claws, nodding. “If any harm comes to them, I will be displeased.”

“Yes sir!” Nent and Slat saluted again. Nent paused next to Dib, saying something just quietly enough for Zim not to hear. Dib nodded, causing Nent to go pale and nod back before he walked away.

When Nent returned, it was with a couple of bottles of water.

“They collected it from the atmosphere as we lifted off,” Ke explained. “If it was present in the human world, we supposed, it was important to their survival. There will be more if they need, reproduced from the chemical composition studied as we traveled.” He looked up at Zim. “Your allies will remain safe.”

“Good,” Zim nodded again. “We need to go inside.”

“They’re probably fighting over who becomes the next Tallest,” Sklet muttered. “We must bring that to an end.”

Zim unplugged Gir, holding him carefully. He still might not wake up, though Ke and Sklet had said it was more likely he would. He had charged, his batteries full enough to keep running for a century. There was nothing missing from him, no pieces lost. Irken engineering was impressive, even with a subpar SIR unit. With a careful step forward, Zim caught Dib’s attention.

“It’s time?” Dib asked. Gaz looked up as well.

“Yes,” Zim held his head up high. “It’s time.”

They walked together, Dib at his side and Gaz just behind them. Ke and Sklet were just behind her, Nent and Slat flanking either side of Dib and Zim. The seven of them walked into the Imperial Palace, listening as the crowd of Invaders squabbled. Each of them was shouting about why they were to be the next Tallest. Shorter Irkens were throwing their support behind other candidates, loyalty shifting if a point was made well enough.

Zim walked through the crowd, watching as it parted and the room fell silent. Thousands of eyes were on him as he moved, four more soldiers joined their procession, falling into formation beside and behind Slat and Nent. He kept his head up, refusing to look any one Invader in the eyes.

It was seen as a weakness. He’d be torn apart.

Gir was a weight in his arms that always felt safe and familiar. Dib was warm at his side. He trusted Gaz enough at his back, more than he might ever trust the guards and soldiers who had fallen in to walk them through the crowd. When they reached the stage, Zim stepped up onto it, turning to stare at the crowd. The focus shifted onto him, the room still silent. “I am Invader Zim,” he addressed the crowd. Reluctantly, he handed Gir off to Sklet. She took him and settled him on the ground next to Zim. “I escaped, alive and with information, from the Baratoth.”

Several thousand shocked and fearful gasps sounded around him.

“In their hands, I watched the Tallest get slaughtered. I was forced to watch as they died,” he clenched his claws, his antennae twitching. “I escaped intact through careful planning, stealth, and luck. I stand before you now, survived and whole, as your new Tallest.”

Those immediately in front of the stage started nodding. A few of them looked apprehensive, but they nodded slowly as well.

“The Baratoth are coming,” Zim continued. Whispers broke out among the crowd, thousands of eyes wide and scared, now. Irkens may have claimed to have gene banks that bred out fear, but he could see it in all of them. “They are coming to reclaim the planet and turn us back into their prey. From Irk’s history, we know we beat them before. We know we got them off our planet. Their plan is not just takeover – they want to eliminate ninety percent of our population and leave ten percent for hunting. They want our gene banks intact so that they can create more Irkens once that amount falls.”

Dib shifted closer, something Zim was grateful for. He couldn’t ask for the human’s support without looking weaker, but he could take it when it was offered.

“I am the only Irken who has ever survived an encounter alone with the Baratoth,” Zim swallowed. “I am the only one who has ever gotten away. I have beaten the Planet Jackers for the rights of the planet I have infiltrated to remain whole. I have escaped the Baratoth. I have beaten the Nhar-Gh’ok.” He let his mechanical legs expand and raise him higher, to see more of the crowd. “I will use every possible resource to ensure the survival of all Irkens and of Irk itself!”

The crowd roared, cheering and screaming, as Zim lowered himself back down.

“Our new Tallest must rest,” Ke addressed the crowd next. “His human allies are to be left alone. They are part of the reason we have even gotten this much warning.”

A noise of agreement filled the room.

With the possibility of a rebellion handled, Zim let himself be herded off the stage, to a room the previous Tallest had rarely ever used. A resting room on the planet, with beds and supplies. They had preferred to stay on and rest in their ship. With Ke and Sklet both pushing him, Zim lay down on the bed. The two of them retreated shortly after, leaving Zim alone in the room with Dib and Gaz, Dib carrying Gir.

“What happens next?” Dib asked in the quiet. He set Gir down next to Zim, making sure the little robot was arranged in a way that looked comfortable.

“We prepare,” Zim coughed the words out, a claw at his throat as he massaged the tissue there. Having a translator ripped out and a new one put in was a mess. The old – by his measure of time – scarring was aching from the presence of the new translator. To Dib, it had only been a few days, but Zim had been forced to count time differently. “We get ready to defend the planet, to fight off an entire species of enemies who have always wanted us dead.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Dib sat on the edge of Zim’s bed. Zim wanted to drag him in, hold onto him, and curl around him. Something to hold onto, something familiar, to keep him anchored in the middle of everything.

Zim turned his head so he could look at Dib directly, watching as the human watched him.

They had worked together before. A lot of times, actually. Every single time they had become allies for some reason, Zim had been impressed and amazed by how well they worked together. Dib would take up a position at his back – not so he could shoot him where he was weak, but because the human had seen a defensive position to keep Zim alive through whatever fight they were in and he’d taken it. Every single time. Every single time they worked together, if they needed to be on the same side, Dib would be at his back to keep him from getting taken down.

And, Zim realized a little belatedly, he was at Dib’s back. Doing the exact same for him.

With a cautious touch on Gir’s arm, feeling the hum of his systems coming back online slowly, Zim nodded. “Stay,” he kept his voice quiet; speaking was still painful.

“I can do that,” Dib nodded. He looked around, probably looking for somewhere else to sit. Zim reached out and grabbed his arm. Tugging him carefully, his claws light on fragile skin, Zim pulled him fully onto his bed. Dib went with a small squeak of noise, landing a little awkwardly. He fixed his arrangement on the bed quickly, his arms crossed under his chin as he lay down next to Zim, staring ahead of him at Gir. “This okay?” he asked.

With a nod, Zim let his eyes drift shut.

There were other beds in the room, space enough for the Tallest, two Tallest, and a couple of guards. The bed Zim had been settled on was meant for two. There was more than enough room for Dib to lay there, the same protective presence he always had when they worked together.

Gaz snorted at something, laying down on another bed across the room. She muttered something Zim didn’t hear, his head suddenly too full to process auditory input.

It didn’t feel important, at the moment. Dib was there. Gir was okay. Zim felt safe.

His allies were with him. He had support.

Everything else could come after.

Chapter Text

Irkens were nocturnal.

Dib woke up when Zim did, the Irken shifting from asleep to awake so quickly that he had Dib jolting awake next to him. When he checked his watch, the time was supposedly just after seven in the evening. When they had arrived on Irk, it had been noon. Supposedly, anyway. He wasn’t sure how time differences worked between Earth and Irk. Dib sat up slowly, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he watched Zim.

Zim blinked a couple of times, his antennae twitching, then looked at Dib. The scabbing on the back of his head seemed to be improving, from what Dib knew of how Zim healed. His claws were a dark green at the edges, still, but they also seemed to be getting better.

“Zim?” Dib cleared his throat, yawning. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Zim nodded. He closed his eyes, teeth clenched, as he took a few moments just to breathe. Dib knew the feeling – suddenly feeling like you were alone in something that felt too big for just you, too impossible to handle on your own. That was how he’d felt, at all of eleven years old, when Zim had come to Earth for the first time, and he’d caught radio transmissions from the Irken empire.

Except Zim was now the sole leader of his entire species.

“Don’t know where to start,” Zim muttered.

“Okay,” Dib nodded. “I’ve got a few ideas?”

Zim looked up at him, searching his face for something, waiting.

“I need a history of the planet. Like…Resources, historical practices, stuff like that. How did your ancestors do things, what sort of weapons did they make, how did they use the planet’s resources to their advantage?” Dib shifted around, crossing his legs until he could brace his elbows on his knees. “Stuff like that,” he said again, his fingers tapping as he counted off in his head. “I want to see how they might have chased these guys off, if there are any historical records of it.”

“Sealed records,” Zim frowned, then went blank again. “…That I now have access to.” He blinked again, sighing. “Tallest Zim,” he groaned the words out, shoving the heels of his palms into his eyes as he flopped back onto the bed. Dramatic, Dib wanted to smile, as he always was. At least his personality seemed to have come out intact. “Computer!” he called out, aiming towards the ceiling.

“Tallest Zim,” the computer responded.

Dib glanced over at Gaz, who was still apparently asleep. He’d put money on her just pretending. She’d never been the heaviest of sleepers.

“Get a file of historical records together,” Zim demanded. “About the Baratoth and the way they were beaten by Irkens.” He let his arms drop. “Have it transferred to a data pad and brought to the Tallest quarters. I have a mighty need for research,” he glanced at Dib. “And have the kitchen staff alerted to the needs of humans and their diets. Human allies will need meals, soon.”

“Yes, my Tallest,” the computer’s speakers clicked off, a soft humming following.

They sat together for a few minutes, silent, until a knock on the door sounded. “Come in!” Zim called out. The door slid open slowly, a smaller-than-usual Irken slipping in through the opening. Dib watched as they approached with a tablet-shaped object in their hands. “Name?” Zim sat up to stare at them.

“Service Drone Erb, Tallest Zim,” they bowed their head, offering up the tablet.

Dib watched as Zim leaned over and took the tablet, holding it out to Dib after a second. “…Thank,” Zim muttered awkwardly. “Uh,” he seemed to hesitate. “How do I make you go away?”

“You say I am dismissed, Tallest Zim,” Erb looked up at him for a second, then looked at the floor again. Subservient, Dib realized. Different ranks allowed for different interactions. Was Service Drone the lowest rank? “That is the usual command.”

“Dismissed, then,” Zim made a gently shooing motion.

Erb made a small sound that might have been a giggle, then turned and scurried out of the room again.

Zim rapped a knuckle on the screen of the tablet Dib was now holding, both of them watching as it lit up. “As soon as my Pak was connected on the medical ship,” Zim’s voice was still a little hoarse, but it sounded almost a thousand times better than it had before. “It would have assimilated English as both a written and a spoken language into the Empire-wide system,” he tapped a few more things. “Which means,” he tapped a couple more times, grinning victoriously when the screen split in two. “There! Irken and English, next to each other. Learn to navigate in both, it might help.”

“That’s actually really cool,” Dib felt his eyebrows raise, staring at the screen.

“This is cooler,” Zim gloated, double-tapping something quickly.

A holographic display rose from the screen in his hands as Dib watched. Zim demonstrated as Dib watched, scrolling up and down on the physical screen to navigate on the holographic display. Irken technology was, as far as Dib had seen, more advanced than a lot of things on Earth. This was the first time he’d ever been given a demonstration of aspects of their tech, willingly. “That is cooler,” he whispered, staring between the display and the screen. “Is that so it can be read easier?”

“And so that you can share with others,” Zim nodded.

Dib looked at him again, feeling a wave of warmth wash through him. How hadn’t he caught on before Gaz had shoved it at him?

Obsessing over him, being fascinated and impressed by him, the way he’d always stared at Zim and been impressed even with his weirdest and least successful attempts at things. How hadn’t he actually caught on until Gaz hadn’t given him a chance to look away? He hadn’t been lying when talking to the other Irkens. Zim was impressive and good at what he did, at turning situations to his advantage.

Instead of focusing on that, right now, Dib turned to the research ahead of him.

There was a lot to do and probably not a lot of time to do it.

Gaz started moving around about an hour into Dib’s trawl through Irken history.

By that time, food had been brought in for all three of them, Zim had been spoken to about his duties, his story had been heard about six times by various Irkens, and Dib had decided that he would probably have nightmares about beetles for the rest of his life.

The Baratoth appeared to be a lot like beetles. Irkens had based their armor on their chitinous shells, initially, and enhanced their technology and armor over the years. Some of the things he’d been given access to, in his research, were the medical reports and autopsies of those Irkens unfortunate enough to run into the Baratoth on their own. Ke had mentioned they were brought back in pieces, but that seemed to be downplaying it a little.

Out of listening, just barely, Dib learned that Zim’s Pak had been automatically re-encoded as the Tallest when he’d been plugged in on Ke’s ship.

He kept researching.

“Dib,” Zim’s voice was annoyed. He knew that tone, he’d heard it a lot.

“Just a second,” Dib warned, still deep in his research. He was pretty sure he had the Irken alphabet memorized, now, with how deep he’d gone into the archives of Irken history. A pair of hands grabbed the datapad out of his, yanking it away. “Hey!”

Zim stared back at him, pink eyes narrowed. “Food, Dibstink. Eat something.”

“I said I was going to—”

“In a bit, yes, I know,” Zim nodded. “But it has been several hours past that, now, and the Gaz beast has eaten. I have eaten. You, however, have continued to bury yourself in research and history.” He held up the data pad, looking sort of amused. “You can get this back when you aren’t at risk of passing out.”

“I’m not—”

“Human Dib,” the computer spoke up. “Your blood sugar levels are lower than optimal operating conditions. Your hydration levels are also below optimal levels.”

Dib blinked, looking at Zim.

Zim’s face was a darker green than usual as his cheeks flushed. His antennae twitched. “My Pak keeps your vital signs recorded,” he reminded Dib. “And the computer of the Tallest’s quarters automatically connects to my Pak, recognizing when I am in the room and using the information my Pak keeps as a way to keep things running to my standards.” He looked away. “Now eat.”

A couple of voices caught Dib’s attention as he stood up, stretching. There were a few new Irkens in the room, along with Ke and Sklet.

“Scientists Zal and Lu,” Zim gestured at the new ones. “Food,” he gestured to the table set up in the corner. “Gaz went to do a walkthrough of a ship, to see if piloting one is possible for her.” He looked down for a second, his jaw clenched, then looked back at Dib. “If this turns into a war, a return home is the plan for you and Gaz. A way to warn the rest of the galaxy, if the Baratoth defeat Irk.”

“I’m not leaving,” Dib protested, a hand on the chair next to the table. He let go of the furniture, turning back to Zim. “I came to help; I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone!”

Zim made a snarl of a noise, his claws clenched into fists, but Dib shook his head. “No, seriously, I came to help, Zim!” Dib made his own noise of frustration, his hands slashing through the air next to his head. “I’m not letting you die, I’m not going to let an entire species die just because it might be safer for me to run away! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Zim, but that’s not how I do things!”

“And you of all human stinkbeasts know I can’t—”

One of the scientists cleared their throat.

Dib and Zim turned on them together. “What?!” Dib wanted to laugh, despite how everything felt, at how much he and Zim were always in synch. Even when they were mad at each other, they could work together in an instant.

Zim’s face burst into a deep green when one of them spoke, a chittering wave of language.

Frowning, Dib stared at both of them.

“You will be silent,” Zim hissed, crossing his arms and refusing to look at them again. “If you say that when he has his translator, I will banish you.”

“What?” blinking, Dib looked at Zim. “What’d they say?”

“He,” Zim gestured at the one who had spoken. “Is Zal. And if he tells you what he said once you’ve gotten a translator, I will banish him.”

“…Wait, does he have a translator?”

“Scientists who remain on Irk do not receive one. It is not until they leave for another planet that they are fitted with a translator,” Zim shrugged. He stalked closer to Dib, pulling the chair out and shoving him into it. “Now eat, Dibstink.”

He stepped back, returning to his conversation with the other Irkens. Dib’s datapad was still held captive in one of his claws.

Dib ate slowly, listening to a mixture of Irken chittering and Zim’s occasional muttering in English.  

Something about that had seemed…

Weird.

Chapter Text

If they had still been on Earth, it would have been a week since they had arrived.

Zim watched as Dib crouched down on the surface of Irk and took samples of the soil. He’d been given access to the labs on Irk, working with Zal and Lu to figure out a few things that would help the Irken race survive what had to be coming their way. With how much he needed to pay attention to, now, Zim would just have to hope Zal had enough sense not to repeat what he’d said to Zim in front of Dib. He would just have to hope that Zal was smart enough not to try to sneak that sentence to Dib in some way.

“Sulfur?” Dib leaned back, interrupting Zim’s thoughts. “Huh. Sulfur and…Copper.” He nodded a couple of times. When he looked up at Zim, holding his samples and the kit he’d borrowed from one of the scientists, he grinned. “That makes a couple of things make sense.” He stood up, brushing off his clothes. “Of course you don’t do well with water – Sulfur is insoluble, and copper corrodes if the water is too harsh. Yeah, rainwater is considered pure, it went through the whole process,” he stuck a finger in the air and circled it a couple of times. “But your entire physiology is resistant to water because of the two base elements of your home planet,” he tucked every sample he’d taken away.

With a small noise, Zim nodded. “And your planet’s main elements are iron and carbon,” Zim added. “Iron for the planet itself, carbon for the basis of every living species.”

“Yeah!” Dib nodded. He looked at the data pad Zim was holding. “I need to go do a couple of tests, are you too busy to come oversee them?”

Once he’d found out that Zim had started as a Scientist, rather than an Invader, Dib had been excited to go over theories with him. “I have time, human stinkbeast,” Zim followed as Dib started walking, tapping out messages and going through files that were being sent to him. There was so much to do, so many tasks to approve or deny, so many things to keep track of – no wonder Purple and Red had been Tallest together. They had accepted the dual role, rather than fighting to be the sole Tallest.

‘Are we also to have our first human Tallest?’

Zal’s words echoed in his head again, so sudden and insistent that Zim’s antennae twitched. It had been so obvious what Zal had meant, the way he was watching Zim and how Zim was watching Dib. He hadn’t meant it as a challenge to Zim’s new role, he’d just been asking if Zim had an emotional connection to the human.

There had been rumors for years about Purple and Red, but no one had ever dared to directly accuse them.

Zim walked alongside Dib, tapping the back of his data pad with his claws. They were healed, now, given full access to Irken medical technology. The wound on his head would scar, but he was recovered other than that. Recovered enough to be buried in paperwork and circling thoughts about how Dib fought, and the way Zal had been almost laughing as he’d asked if Dib would be a Tallest at Zim’s side. With a spare thought for Purple and Red, Zim took a deep breath, his antennae waving as he closed his eyes most of the way. He could track Dib just about everywhere, even just by listening to him.

He used the human’s voice as a sort of echolocation, keeping himself steady as he tried to clear his head.

Against all Irken breeding, against the beliefs and thinking, he wanted Dib at his side. Not conquered, not imprisoned. Zal hadn’t been wrong and that was the problem. Dib had been sitting there, burying himself in the history of Irk to help keep Zim’s entire race alive, and he had been doing so in a combination of English and Irken. Studying, and reading through written history almost faster than even a native speaker could keep up, doing his best to throw his brain at the problem and solve it.

Doing what he had always done.

They had a history of fighting each other. Of watching what the other would do if they did this, if the other would move here if they moved there. They had almost been playing, Zim would think, training together. If they were both Irken, he would have called it training.

Testing if the other could plot around missing pieces, if they could stop a plot with less than a day of warning. Almost…Playful.

Comforting.

Like—

Zim’s antennae shot straight up, his cheeks burning as he nearly snapped his data pad in half. The romance movies Gir had sometimes insisted on watching. The way the humans would argue and then kiss and save the day together.

If he were younger and less exposed to the idea, he might have demanded a Medical Technician check him over for an infection. He might have demanded a full diagnostic course to determine what was wrong with him. Zim still almost wanted that, actually – feelings, especially for a human such as Dib, were complicated and messy. Feelings had been restricted in the Irken race long ago, cut down to certain acceptable levels.

Victory was allowed. Amusement was allowed. Anger was encouraged, especially when a battle-hardened Irken would go into a rage and destroy the enemy.

Not curiosity. Never happiness.

And certainly not anything nearly as goopy as what he was realizing he felt for Dib. He would have been executed for that alone, if he had let it be discovered by the previous Tallest. The care he felt for Gir, the way he wanted to demand to know if Dib was safe, the cautious respect he allowed himself to feel for Gaz – all of that would have him branded a disgrace. Zim opened his eyes as Dib’s voice echoed differently, having arrived back in the lab he was borrowing.

He sat down, pretending to look at his datapad.

Dib moved around at a dizzying pace, setting up different tests and experimenting with the samples he’d taken. He talked as he worked, though it didn’t seem like he actually wanted a reply.

Which was good, because Zim was suddenly unsure if he’d be able to give one.

Tapping out of his paperwork, Zim scrolled through files until he found some of the oldest Irken records. Journals from the first leaders of the Irken race, from before Irk was theirs and theirs alone. The stories he’d read as a smeet, over and over again, until his data pad had been taken away and he’d been forced to train. The stories about monsters in the dark, beyond Irken settlements.

Discarded stories. The ones thought to be lies. They were too emotional, he’d been told, too stupid to survive.

“That’s why they were going to…” Zim frowned, muttering as he scrolled through the writing. The Baratoth were nightmares, terrifying to anyone who dealt with them. “Dibstink!” he called the human’s attention over, looking up when Dib jogged over. “The earliest stories,” he held the data pad out to him. “They mention the Baratoth. These are stories you would not have been given access to, a history that you would not have seen!”

Dib took the data pad carefully, scrolling through slowly. He frowned, eyes darting across the screen. “Wait,” he shook his head, scrolling back up. “Wait, wait, no, hang on,” he looked at Zim. “This is talking about someone being afraid. About how much they…Feared…” he stopped, his mouth hanging open. He sat down next to Zim, just barely making it into a chair before he dropped. “Hang on, just a second,” he rubbed at his face, his glasses pushed up into his hair. “You’re telling me that the previous Irken leaders got rid of emotions because the Baratoth used it to track them?” he opened his eyes again, squinting at the screen.

He looked pathetic, Zim thought. He wanted to smile at the thought, wanted to keep watching Dib.

Instead, he reached out and flipped the human’s glasses back over his eyes.

“Yeah,” Dib nodded, continuing to go through the journals. “Yeah, that’s right. They planned to breed it out, cut themselves off, because the Baratoth could use almost every emotion as a scent-tracking thing. Everything you’re allowed to keep, everything that causes an Irken to get labeled as a good Invader – that’s the stuff they can’t track.” He hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip.

Zim watched as he put his ideas together, arranged them neatly, then seemed to look at how they sat.

“But Irkens aren’t the only ones who’ve spent however long it’s been evolving and changing,” Dib looked at Zim, their eyes meeting. “The Baratoth have changed, too. How much do you want to bet,” he paused, his mouth open to show his teeth as he put together his words. “That they no longer have that advantage?”

“We no longer have the same scent glands,” Zim explained after a moment. “Our ancestors had them along the spinal ridge,” he gestured over his shoulder. “And when Paks were created, to bring Irken soldiers back from the dead, to keep them supplied with their tools, well – there was no need for the scent glands anymore.”

“They got removed,” Dib stared at Zim, still. “Once the Baratoth had been kicked off the planet, Irkens changed their physiology to make sure it wouldn’t happen again.”

“Our historical records state that our ancestors no longer wanted to feel hunted,” Zim lifted his chin.

“And that’s fine,” Dib nodded. “But the circumstances are different, now.”

“Now we’re easier to track because of our technology,” Zim looked down at the data pad, managing to follow Dib’s thoughts. “We no longer have anything of our natural defenses because of the way the Irken empire expanded. Originally, smeet cloning was a process created to ensure our survival. Once the Armada was created, once we laid claim to Irk as our own, it was a way to create Invaders.”

Dib nodded again. “For what you’ve told me is pretty much an endless war.”

“Yes.”

“Taking over the entire galaxy has always been the plan, from what you’ve told me.”

“Also yes.”

Leaning back in his seat, Dib put a hand over his mouth, rubbing his cheeks and chin. “The natural processes which were able to defeat these guys the first time are probably gone. They likely stopped existing however long ago all of this was,” he gestured at the data pad. “Which means we need to find something else. Some other way. Maybe if we can mimic…The original…” he stopped, a few fingers hovering over the screen of the datapad. He looked like he always did when he had a plan, Zim realized – glazed-over expression, shaking hand, his breathing changing to something unsteady. He’d seen that expression on Dib’s face for over a decade of Earth years. “Hang on,” Dib muttered. “Hang on, hang on,” he nearly slipped out of his seat as he turned to scramble for his own datapad, holding the two next to each other.

When he almost dropped one of them, Zim reached out to hold it instead. “Thanks,” Dib nodded, still muttering to himself. With still-shaking fingers, he scrolled through the historical records he’d been given. “How did they…”

He went silent, eyes darting across the screen as fast as they could. “There!” Dib jabbed a finger at something in the text. He reached out to navigate on Zim’s data pad as well. “There, right there!” He grinned, looking up at Zim. “The original method for fighting back against the Baratoth was an unstable compound of natural resources, starting when the Irken race mined the planet to try and figure out how to fight back!” Dib laughed, leaning back. “It looks like they made something along the lines of copper sulfate and poisoned them. When the Baratoth fought back, or tried to, the Irkens set the compound on fire and chased them to the other side of the planet.”

Scrolling again, Dib looked back down at the data pads. “From there, they kept the Baratoth back by keeping a copper sulfate fume barrier going. While that happened, the Irkens developed technology. The planet was split in half by the barrier, which is when the first Irken soldiers were trained. How’d they get ships in the first place?” Dib met his eyes.

“I don’t…Know. The Baratoth are scavengers, sometimes. At least, that is what I have been told.” Zim made a face. “We need to figure that out.” He looked around. “…Computer?”

“Yes, Tallest Zim?”

“Do we have records of the Baratoth’s technological evolution?”

“One moment,” the computer hummed. “There is a recording of an incident. A written record. Sending record to Tallest Zim’s datapad.”

Zim held it out for Dib again, waiting as the human looked through it. “They killed a couple of hundred Irkens,” Dib murmured. “All at once. There was a fight, the Baratoth were losing. As many as possible staged an ambush as Irkens made their first ships. Hundreds of years of fighting, where the Baratoth were put at a disadvantage but were still overpowering the Irkens. The Baratoth ambushed, attacked, and killed, then fled in the ships. They kidnapped the leader of the time, this was written by their—” Dib pulled back, sitting up straight. He glanced up at Zim, his cheeks going red the way Zim had seen them go a couple of times. “The leader had a, uh, partner. A romantic one. This was written by them.”

“Ah,” Zim glanced down at the data pad. “What else?”

“That was one of the main reasons for altering the gene banks in the first place, apparently.” Dib curled his hands together, looking away. A few moments of silence passed, the human’s face slowly wrinkling. “Wait, hang on.”

“What?”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Dib grabbed for both data pads again, laying them on the table next to each other. “That’s…The timeline doesn’t match up. Supposedly the Irken emotions were trackable by scent but then also the gene banks were altered because of the loss the leader’s significant other felt?”

Zim watched as he frantically scrolled through both data pads. “Tell me your thoughts, Dibstink.”

“One of these is a lie,” Dib’s mouth curled into what Zim might have called a pout, like Purple’s had always done when Red whined about snacks. “One of these two records, some of the most basic rules it seems like Irk is formed on, is a lie.”

There were times that Zim felt regret. When Gir had gotten into the glitter he’d been forced to buy for school. When he forgot the paste bath to be able to go out into the rain. That time he’d snapped one of Dib’s ribs and been panicking as he’d dragged the human to the hospital.

Becoming Tallest, right now, kind of seemed to be a good time for regret.

Chapter Text

Okay, so how the hell was he supposed to determine what the truth was?

Zim had gone off to another meeting with more scientists, Medical Technicians, Soldiers, and others. Dib had stayed with Gaz, watching from the sidelines as she trained with some Irken machinery. From what she’d told him, they handled like the video games she had loved since she was a kid. Easy to control and maneuver, easy for her to understand, something almost instinctive in the way she could put her hands on them and go.

Sitting in the corner of the room, Dib held a datapad in his lap. He let his head roll back and his eyes slip shut as he let it go loose in his hands. He was supposed to figure out what was the truth and what was the lie – had the Baratoth used emotional scenting and scents as a way to track Irkens?

Or had a previous leader been so broken-hearted that they’d demanded all future generations be stripped of emotional responses other than the ones they deemed acceptable?

Maybe it was both, even.

Soft metallic noises caught the edges of his attention, but he kept his eyes closed. Under protection from the new leader, surrounded by those who gave Zim their support, with Gaz watching over him from her little perch of instant destruction. He was safe. When a small hand landed on his, however, Dib opened his eyes. Soft blue lenses stared back at him, antenna crooked. “Where’s my master?” Gir asked, his voice a little glitchy at the edges. “Big-head boy?”

“Hey Gir,” Dib held out his arm, watching as the little robot moved in closer. Gir stared at Dib’s side for a second before he curled up against him, his arms wrapped around Dib’s arm. “He’s in a meeting, right now.”

“We’re on home!” Gir’s gleeful announcement was paired with his little legs wiggling. “Home home home!”

“Yeah,” nodding, Dib stifled a bit of laughter. The stress of figuring out Irken history was forgotten for a moment. The little robot next to him, tucked against his side, had finally woken up. Zim would probably be happy about that, once he found out. “What’s up with you, today?”

“Sleepy,” Gir shrugged, his head dropping against Dib’s stomach. “All put together again.”

“…Zim made sure of it,” Dib lowered his voice. “I helped him find all the pieces of you.” He should have known Zim was different, years ago, by how he’d always treated Gir. He’d seen Tak, how she’d commanded her robot around. Her robot hadn’t spoken back, hadn’t said anything. When Gir had controlled it, there had been noises – but nothing beyond that. Tak had dismantled her robot the moment she’d realized it would cut off their plan to distract her, too. “How’d you come find me?”

“Master’s Pak!” Gir’s voice was chirpy and cheery again, his head still down. “Tells me what’s where and all there!” He reached up his hand and patted Dib’s shoulder. “Ba-bump, ba-bump.”

Gir was connected to Zim’s Pak. He could read their vital signs because Zim tracked them.

Dib sat with him as Gir whirred and chirped, entertaining himself with the noises Dib had always heard him make. One of the things that Zim had mentioned, recently, in between research and meetings, was that Gir had been considered defective as well. He’d been put together from trash and broken pieces, given to Zim because the Tallest had decided that was all he was worth.

“So he was given to you like that?” Dib had asked.

Zim snorted. “He has always been like that,” he shook his head. “Loud and insane and stupid and…And…” he looked down, his claws flexing. “Stupid little robot.” His expression was fond and happy, no matter what he was saying. He enjoyed Gir’s company, Dib knew. Cared about him so much.

Dib watched his face, the way his brow ridge wrinkled. “But you care about him. He threw himself at the Baratoth to keep you safe and alive and you care about him.” He smiled. “Enough to put him back together.”

“Of course I do!” Zim snapped.

He stopped.

Looking away, Zim sighed. “Of course I do.” He repeated. “He has been all I have had. My home base and my computer and Gir. Everything that is mine, everything that is a part of my life.”

He had seen Zim put the robot back together and hover over him like he could will him to wake up. He’d watched Zim, over the years, put up with Gir’s antics and behaviors. The screeching and the singing and the weird foods and the messes all over the place – even the absolutely horrible tv shows he watched on repeat.

There wasn’t anything he could do other than protect Gir and keep him safe the same way Zim always did.

Something seemed different about him, though. He was still moving the same way he’d always moved, still humming and mumbling and tapping his feet, but he stayed in place better. Quieter now, Dib realized. Gir was quieter.

“Gir?”

“Big-head boy?”

“Why’re you so quiet?” Dib watched as the little robot scooted out a little bit so he could look up at Dib.

“Supposed to collect samples and keep company,” Gir nodded. “Supposed to remember information, for later! Not supposed to interrupt when master has a datapad out. Not supposed to…Not supposed…” he frowned, his head tilting. “There’s data missing.”

“Missing?”

“Missing,” Gir nodded again. He had his hands flat on the floor in front of him, his legs angled out in a V. Dib had seen him sitting like that in his dog disguise so many times. That had been how he’d always sat as a dog. “Old master is missing, too.” He looked up at Dib. “But Zim is master, now!” he smiled, his hands tapping on the ground. “And he’s nice, even when he pretends not to be!”

Blinking, Dib realized why Gir seemed so different.

Coherence.

He was coherent and speaking in normal sentences for the first time since Dib had met him. “Yeah, he is, isn’t he?” Dib smiled back. His heart thudded in his chest, realization leaving him holding his datapad in a white-knuckled grip. “Computer?” he tilted his head up.

“Yes, human ally Dib?”

“Did the historical period I’m researching have sufficient technological understanding to have SIR units?”

“One moment,” the computer whirred, a soft clicking noise following. “Yes, they did. Though the technology was limited, in comparison to modern developments, previous generations of Irkens had made enough advancements to have SIR units present. Previously, they were used to gather samples, record data, and keep an Irken explorer company, as well as function as an emergency locator in the event of an attack by the Baratoth.”

Dib’s next breath was shallow and cold. He’d been shown other SIR units. He’d met Tak’s. None of them behaved like Gir.

None of them.

Standing up, Dib reached down and picked Gir up. “We’re going to go find Zim,” he told the little robot. “And I need to ask him how to check your diagnostic history.”

“Wheeeeee!” Gir held up his hands, his legs wiggling. He laughed, then started humming a song Dib almost recognized. “Gonna go find master, carried by the big-head boy, gonna go talk to him and listen!”

Silly, but not insane. The sort of personality that would have made a good companion.

Dib tucked his datapad under one arm, carrying Gir with the other. The hallways had started out looking all the same to him, when they’d first arrived, but now he could walk around and know exactly where he was. Zim’s meeting room was there, around the corner, and Dib stopped. He might have to wait a while, he knew, before he could speak to Zim. He was the leader of his entire species, now, he had a lot to do in between figuring out how they were all going to survive and learning how to lead.

Thankfully, he only had to wait a few minutes before the doors opened with a soft whoosh of noise. The scientists, the ones Zim had introduced as Zal and Lu, walked out first. With small nods to Dib, they walked past him. Inside the room, when Dib poked his head in, was Zim at a table. Ke and Slat were with him, both of them silent as they spotted Dib.

Zim had a clawed hand on his face, his elbow pressed into the table. He looked exhausted.

He learned fast, but he was probably being drowned in new information.

With a smile, Dib approached him quietly. “Hey, Zim, I have someone who wants to see you.” He waited until the Irken looked up, then held Gir up a little more. “So he woke up, today. He came and found me – I guess his system tracks us the same way your Pak does?”

The relief in Zim’s body language made Dib want to hug him. “Gir!” Zim barked his name out, his hand dropping to the surface of the table. “Report your status!”

Dib let the robot down, waiting until he was steady on his feet before letting him go completely. “Unharmed, master! Put back together and in one piece!” He turned to Ke and Slat, waving excitedly. “Hello there!” Walking closer to Zim, Gir sat down on the table in front of him. “I’m Gir!”

“…That is a SIR unit,” Slat looked at Zim. “Why is it acting like that?”

“Gir is special,” Zim’s voice was sharp at the edges, defensive in the way he only ever got when someone insulted Gir or tried to. “As my companion for the entirety of my time spent on Earth, he is to be treated with respect.”

“Understood,” Ke stepped in, motioning for Slat to be quiet. “What Slat means to ask is – why is your SIR unit…Loud?”

“I think I have an answer for that,” Dib held up his datapad. “I asked the computer if the older generations of Irkens had SIR units. I was told they did. I was told they collected samples and recorded data and were companions. I’ve met others. None of them are like Gir.” He set his datapad down. “And I am still working on which part of history is the lie, but I think this ties into it. Gir mentioned a previous master, someone before Zim.”

Zim stared at Dib, his mouth hanging open. His hands were both flat on the table, now. “What?”

“I need to look at Gir’s diagnostic history,” Dib explained. “Because I have a theory about something.” He took a deep breath, then rushed forward. “I think he might have been around for the Baratoth’s attack that ended with them having stolen Irken ships, escaped the planet, and kidnapped the Irken leader of the time.” He turned to look at Zim, meeting his eyes. “You told me he was pulled out of the trash. I need to know why he was there in the first place.”

With a nod, Zim stood up quickly, going over to the wall and tapping a panel. A wire, like the one he’d plugged Gir in with after putting him back together, popped out. He approached Gir and waited as the robot opened the top of his own head.

Plugging him in prompted a holographic display to pop up.

“There,” Zim gestured. “Diagnostic history.”

Dib moved closer, standing at Zim’s side. He watched as Gir’s history scrolled upward, the dates getting further and further into history the longer he stared. “There,” he echoed Zim. “That one, right there.” He moved to pick up his datapad as Zim tapped the information. “That date matches the day of the attack,” he said as he moved back to Zim’s side. “Gir was there,” he scrolled on his own screen, shaking his head. “And not only was he there,” Dib glanced at Zim again. “But I think he was the leader’s personal companion unit.”

“Why is that?” Ke asked, his expression confused. “Why do you think that?”

“Because his diagnostics,” Dib gestured at the one Zim had highlighted. “Say that his personality chip was warped and cracked in the attack. Gir protects Zim – he protected him against the Baratoth. He protects his master. I think he was the leader’s companion unit because there’s probably no other way to have gotten the damage he had. He got damaged by protecting his master, just like he did with Zim.” Dib shook his head when Slat’s mouth dropped open. “The Baratoth ripped him apart. Zim and I had to go find his pieces. Zim repaired those pieces when he put Gir back together.”

“…His chip was damaged when I looked through his pieces,” Zim finally spoke again. He navigated back to the list of diagnostics. “Here,” he muttered. “Right here. A diagnostic was run to see if Gir was a functional SIR unit. When they figured out he wasn’t,” he pointed. “He was scheduled for being sent to the garbage. That date,” Zim’s eyes were wide. “Is the date of the Great Assigning. Gir was found in a box of items of unknown ownership. He was checked. He was deemed defective.”

“He was probably shut down when his chip cracked,” Dib added in. “No one wanted to deal with the damage. Or maybe,” he looked at the datapad in his hands. “Maybe someone couldn’t bring themselves to deal with the damage.”

The leader’s romantic partner had probably been so deep in mourning that dealing with the only other being who would understand had been painful. Gir had been the leader’s companion, and had been there when their leader had been taken, if Dib was right. Swallowing, Dib looked at the Irkens around him. “I think Gir was the companion unit of the previous leader. He just woke up for the first time since Zim reassembled him. He mentioned missing data.”

“There were ships,” Gir stuck out his tongue. “And the sky tasted like the ground!”

“…Gir can eat,” Zim looked at his robot. “SIR units can’t do that.”

“They don’t usually have mouths,” Slat frowned. “Of course they can’t.” He looked at Gir again, his antennae twitching. “…But he does.”

“Sample collection requires taste buds,” Gir’s head was bobbing up and down as he listened to some tune only he could hear. “To measure what’s in the soil and what isn’t!”

Dib could barely keep his grin from growing, watching the Irkens stare at the robot on the table.

Chapter Text

Staring at Gir, watching as the little robot hummed and swung his legs off the edge of the table, Zim almost wanted to pinch himself to see if he would wake up.

He and Dib had retreated to the Tallest’s quarters, Gaz already curled up in the bed she had claimed as her own. Dib was asleep as well, his hair sticking up past the blankets. Gir was awake, however, and he stared back at Zim, his tongue out and his eyes shuttered in an expression Zim had long since come to know as ‘happy’. The robot had been at his side for so long, how hadn’t he realized…Why hadn’t he thought to check his chip for damage?

He had just been grateful to receive equipment at all, he supposed. Grateful to be given at least the illusion of a mission.

But Gir was…

Different.

He’d always been different. Ever since he had woken up, scrounged from the trash by Red and Purple. He had been strange and silly and stupid and excitable and—

And Zim had never felt alone. Not with Gir at his side.

Not, strictly speaking, a SIR unit. Something different, something older.

Belonging to an older Irk.

Zim sat back in his chair, eyes wide and antennae stiff as his claws dropped to his lap. His minders had said he belonged to an older Irk, a past version, and it had never been spoken of as a good thing. Gir belonged to an older Irk as well – quite literally, in fact. Zim’s genes were somehow from an older generation, according to Zal and Lu. A sequence of genetics that had been phased out somewhere along the line. Irkens created with those genetics had not been around for centuries if they were to be believed.

Zim and Gir, created for an older Irk. One that no longer existed.

With a sigh, Zim closed his eyes. He let his head droop back, taking a deep breath.

He wasn’t sure…

Not…

Red stared at him, his wrists bound in a heavy material that refused to be budged by anything he did.

Whatever it was, whatever the Baratoth had used to bind all three of them, it stuck to everything. Fighting against it only made it worse, covering every inch of skin, and climbing up arms. Purple had finally managed to reach unconsciousness, curled up in the corner of the room, after doing so. The barrier keeping the three of them apart was invisible, though Zim had already tested his claws against it.

“How long have they had you here, Zim?” Red’s voice was hoarse. “How long are they going to keep us here?”

His claws flexed again, showing off the scarring from the removal of his thumbs. A tradition Zim had always hated, for the appointment of the position of Tallest. Sure, armor, but losing a body part for no good reason?

“Don’t know,” Zim shook his head. “Can’t see light, haven’t seen stars.” He held up his own claws, looking up towards the vents. “Long enough. Gir attacked them. My SIR unit,” he clarified when Red looked confused. “They captured me, and he attacked them to try and get me free again.” He took a deep breath, flexing and curling his claws. It wouldn’t do any good to panic.

“…What are they going to do to us?”

“I don’t know that, either,” Zim looked at him again. He was thinner than Zim remembered. He and Red had been Emperors for so long, they hadn’t been involved in physical combat for ages.

They had already seen the Baratoth a couple of times.

Zim’s face was swollen and sore, his jaw clicking whenever he opened his mouth. Red had a slash across his back, oozing green, the scent of sulfur and copper filling the air whenever he moved. He took a moment to breathe, then nodded. “They’ve got technology from another race again – new upgrades, perhaps. Or perhaps they just stole all of it after destroying the species it came from. You assured us they were gone,” Zim felt his voice waver. “You told us they had been hunted to the edges of the empire.”

“We thought they were,” Red didn’t meet his eyes. “We thought we had it under control.”

“You didn’t,” Zim sneered. “Obviously not.”

Red stopped speaking for a while. His claws clenched uselessly as he looked around the room. Zim watched him, occasionally, watched the way he seemed to be trying to figure things out. “There is no way out,” Red whispered eventually. “Is there?”

“Not that I’ve seen,” Zim muttered back.

Leaning back against the wall, Red let his head roll back. He stared at the ceiling. “We are never getting out of here.”

Before Zim could answer, the door slammed open. A Baratoth soldier entered, surprisingly light on his feet. Zim couldn’t tell if he was the same one from before or not, but he was grinning as he walked in. The shells lining the walls reflected light in an eerie halo across their surfaces, refracting and diffusing. There were more Baratoth at the door, hanging back to watch. “Of course you’re never getting out of here,” the Baratoth’s chuckle sent a wave of panic up Zim’s back, his body tensing up. “Well, isn’t this nice to see. The Tallest, captured and stripped of their armor. The single Irken, sent to Earth.”

He crouched down, his bulk filling the space between the spaces they were enclosed in. “Tell me, little Irken – do you know what we found out when we destroyed the main ship of the Armada and grabbed these two?”

Purple looked down and away. Red, blinking slowly, leaned into him. He’d woken back up at some point, Zim realized. Both of them avoided eye contact with Zim as the Baratoth laughed again. If he could get his Pak to respond, if he could just get his legs to come out, he’d be able to scale the walls and make for the small vent above his head. He could get away, find a way off the Baratoth’s ship, make it back to Irk, and give a warning.

A part of him, smaller and quieter, wanted to rush back to Earth and give them the warning instead.

The Baratoth squeezed a fist, electricity crackling for a moment, before he put his arm through the barrier and grabbed Purple by the throat. Yanking Purple off the floor, the Baratoth turned to look at Zim again. “We asked them about the presence of an Invader on planet Earth. They told us there wasn’t one, not on any official mission.” He shook Purple, looking at Red.

Red was on his knees, hands bound uselessly in front of him, watching as Purple was shaken like a rag doll.

“Tell him,” The Baratoth commanded. “Tell him what you told us.”

When Red didn’t say anything, the Baratoth squeezed Purple’s throat a little tighter. Purple scrabbled at the fist around him, legs flailing uselessly. He’d been injured in their capture, Zim had been told. The gash that ran up his leg and across his back told the story of it pretty well. “Tell him,” The Baratoth repeated.

“We sent you away,” Red’s face was pinched. “We made up a mission and we sent you away. We just wanted you gone,” he winced when Purple whined, still fighting to breathe in the Baratoth’s grasp. “You were stupid and loud and annoying and we just – We got rid of you! Now let him go!”

“Exiled,” the Baratoth clarified. “You exiled your little Invader so you wouldn’t have to deal with him. Too loud and annoying to keep around, too stupid to know he’d been given a false mission.”

“Yes!” Red’s voice was just on the wrong side of a sob as he watched Purple flailing. “We faked a mission.”

“Disloyal to those who have such loyalty to you,” the Baratoth laughed again. “He insisted he would never give up your secrets.” He lowered his arm, moving like he was going to drop Purple back inside the barrier with Red. Before Purple’s feet could touch the floor, however, the Baratoth yanked him back up. With a clench of a fist, Purple’s entire body went still as his neck and head were crushed. “Here,” he dropped the body next to Red. “I let him go.”

Red stared at Purple’s body, his mouth hanging open. His claws were pressed flat against the floor, his eyes wide. His antennae had fallen back, limp and unmoving.

Zim watched as he stared at Purple.

He watched as the Baratoth reached into the enclosure again, grabbing Red. Even when Red’s head and neck were crushed the same way, he never stopped looking at Purple.

When his corpse was dropped next to Purple’s, Red’s eyes were still aimed at him.

“Zim?”

Something was different.

“Zim!”

He nearly fell out of his chair. A cold hand on his shoulder dragged him back to awareness.

Dib stared back at him, eyes wide behind his glasses. “Zim?” he swallowed, blinking a few times. “Are you okay?”

Zim stared at him, unable to make the words make sense just yet. He heard them, he knew them, but he couldn’t make them make sense in the right order. Dib’s hand stayed on his shoulder, a light pressure, like he wanted to let Zim know where he was at all times. It took a few minutes of Zim breathing slowly, but he eventually felt the heavy fog of his mind dissipate. “I am—Yes,” Zim nodded in a hurry, his antennae twitching. “Okay. Yes. I am.”

“Here,” Dib offered his other hand. “Come to bed. You seem like you sleep better with someone else nearby.” He pulled Zim to his feet when their hands met, pausing to look at Gir. “Gir?”

“Big-head boy!”

“Could you pull up all of your past sample analyses for me to look at when I wake up?” Dib glanced at Zim, who nodded. “I think it’ll be useful.” He waited until Gir hummed happily in answer, then continued to tug Zim towards the bed they still shared. Dib was right, after all – Zim slept better when he had the human nearby. He didn’t think it would be the same result if it were anyone else, however.

Because that was what happened when you were in love.

Zim almost stopped moving completely when he thought that. Irkens weren’t wired for that, but he – He was from a different gene sequence. If Dib’s research was to be believed, he was from a gene bank that had been created at a time when love had been a prized part of daily life for Irkens. Back when breeding and creating more Irkens had still been done manually, rather than with technological advances. With Dib’s research, with him finding out that a previous leader had once had a romantic partner – all the stupid movies Gir had made him watch had changed how he used language about such things – Zim could see where he’d come from.

He watched as Dib pulled down the blankets, smoothing things out before stepping back. “Here,” Dib said again. He gestured to the bed, smiling. “I think you should get some sleep,” he told Zim. “You have more meetings when you wake up.”

Silently, Zim nodded.

He crawled into the bed, settling in on his belly. Watching as Dib returned to the bed as well, settling in next to him, Zim felt a part of himself calm down.

He loved him.

They had fought and planned and argued for years. He had always sort of thought of it as training, in the back of his mind. Had always thought of it like the regiment he’d been put through as a smeet. Train to learn your limits, first. Train so you understand what others would be doing around you in a coordinated attack.

Dib settled in fully, his glasses hooked over an angle of the bed. Without them, his eyes were unfocused. “Goodnight, Zim.” He muttered, sleep already dragging him down.

Zim watched as his breathing evened out, his eyes slipping shut. “Goodnight, Dib.” He whispered back.

Wrapping his arms around his pillow, Zim stared at the human until sleep came for him again.

Chapter Text

There was something reassuring in being right.

Dib scrolled through Gir’s past analyses, reading each piece of information with careful examination. Irk had once had an air quality that had nearly choked Irkens, reducing the ability to breed naturally. That had been when the Baratoth had been attacking the hardest, when Irkens had come up with the idea of the copper sulfate barrier. Their natural breeding had been wrecked, so they had collected genetic samples from as many as they could. With what looked to be a few years, in Earth terms, Irkens had created the gene bank.

Saving their species from possible extinction at the hands of their main predator.

With the data from Gir – Dib had been right, it was useful – he had been able to line historical data up correctly. The scent glands on their spines had been removed after the leader had been taken away and murdered.

A mutilation of an entire species, done because of someone’s grieving.

The facts were simple, laid out in front of him. Point A led to point B led to point C. Everything connected in perfect steps, like a connect-the-dots puzzle. Irkens had been threatened. They had enacted a plan to keep themselves safe. Their plan had wrecked their bodies. They came up with technology to fix that problem. Their technology, once it had saved their lives, had allowed them to escape their home planet. It had proven to be a lure for the Baratoth, who attacked and took their leader away.

With a gene bank in place, grief wrecking their mind, the leader’s…Partner? Mate? Boyfriend?

Whoever they’d been, they had altered the gene sequence and made up a story to pass along. Because they had been named the leader in the absence of their love, everyone followed along. Or maybe they had all believed it.

One person’s grief had changed the entire species.

Dib scrolled through his datapad, the toe of his shoe tapping on the edge of the desk he was sitting at. Curled up in his chair, he had finally managed to find a comfortable way of scrolling through several screens at once.

The Irken language had changed. Words had been eliminated entirely. He’d found the program used to teach the babies – Smeets – and the words for lover and love and care and hope had been removed from them. Words meant to show attachment to others beyond fellow soldiers had been erased. Irk had gone through an entire cultural shift because the Baratoth had killed one specific Irken. The thought had occurred to him of what that might mean in the wake of the previous leaders being killed, but – they would hopefully have time to figure that out later.

“Big-head boy!”

“Gir?” Dib almost fell out of his chair as he startled, managing to catch himself just before he did. “What’s wrong?”

“I found it!” Gir danced in place for a second, his arms waving wildly. “I finded the data!” he cackled, spinning, then lunged into Dib’s leg. “I did, I did! I found the data!”

“Wait,” Dib set his datapad down, picking Gir up. “The data you said was missing?”

“Yes!” Gir flailed, reaching for the cord that plugged into his head. His databanks had been damaged, along with his personality and intelligence chip, but he’d been seen to by data retrieval specialists. He would probably always have his cracked personality, now, but he was at least functional. Not stuck in a hyper and rushed loop, like before. His attention span had drastically improved, along with his understanding and knowledge of the world around him. “There’s the data from Earth!” Gir plugged himself in, both of them watching as a new window popped up. Dib smiled as a video feed showed what had to have been Zim’s entrance to Earth. Squirrels and dogs and humans, insects and stars – all of it was there. The information that Zim had worked off of after his arrival. “And there’s the data from Irk!”

Another window popped up as he spoke.

Dib held Gir closer as he watched information scroll past. Sample analysis, research notes from the deceased leader, and studies that leader had written. His name, apparently, was Kotlee. His partner was Cherecks. Kotlee had started life as a researcher. He’d been promoted to leader when he’d saved dozens of Irkens from the Baratoth, creating the copper sulfate solution in the process. With his research, Kotlee had hoped to find a way to bring peace to both races – he’d only ever wanted peace. Maybe not complete calm, his notes suggested, but something better than constant war.

Cherecks had been more of a pessimist. He’d warned Kotlee about the Baratoth never being willing to be peaceful. They’d loved each other, had gotten along well about everything else, but that had been the one thing they’d argued about.

“Master wanted things to be happy,” Gir whined. “Talked about it a lot.”

Petting the robot’s head, Dib nodded. “It seems like it,” he smiled. “Thank you for showing me this, Gir.”

“Something else,” Gir tilted his head back, the light of his eyes pulsing for a second. On the holographic screen in front of them, something else showed up. It took a second for Dib to realize what he was seeing, to realize what it meant, but when he did, he almost dropped Gir.

The original samples.

Kotlee had written about the copper sulfate solution, the burning of the compound to keep his people safe. That he’d never wanted to harm them, that it had probably been a mistake, a better solution could have been found. Gir held the data of the original genetic samples of the entire Irken species.

Of course he did, Dib realized, his mouth hanging open. He’d been the leader’s personal companion. Trusted and kept close, of course.

“Your databanks were repaired,” Dib whispered. He looked down at Gir, his brain moving slowly. When Gir grinned, Dib blinked a couple of times. With a heavy sigh, something caught between a slow release of breath and a groan, he studied the screen. “Can you send this to my datapad?”

“Yep!”

Dib stood up when his datapad announced it had received the files, holding both Gir and the datapad as he moved to leave the room.

Zim. He needed to find Zim.

It took a few minutes, but he did.

Gaz and Zim were talking, a couple of the Pilots and Soldiers with them. They were taking notes as Gaz spoke, interested in her experiences with their tech. Zim had his hands clasped behind his back, listening intently. Dib watched all of them for a few minutes, smiling as Zim leaned in on the new role he’d had to take up for his people. He’d been right – Zim learned quickly. He’d started enlisting others to help, not just trying to struggle with it all on his own.

He wasn’t a solitary Invader, anymore. He had others to support him.

When the Soldiers and Pilots walked away, leaving Gaz and Zim behind, Dib joined them. Zim spotted him first, his antennae perking up. He stood a little straighter. “Dibstink,” he greeted, grinning. “Every time you show up, we learn something new. What did you find this time?”

“Gir has the entirety of the stolen leader’s research notes in his databank,” Dib jiggled Gir, who had taken to humming and playing some game only he knew with the air. Gir laughed, then reached for Zim. Handing him over, Dib got to watch as Zim cradled Gir close for a few seconds, then looked back to Dib. “He also has,” Dib tapped through the files Gir had sent to his datapad, displaying them for Zim and Gaz to see. “The entirety of the original gene bank in his databank.”

“…What?” Zim’s antennae fell back, his eyes wide. “You mean, from before?”

“Yeah,” Dib nodded. “From before that leader was taken away.” He met Zim’s eyes, still smiling. “We have the entire original gene sequencing for the Irken species, from before there were alterations made.”

“Gir,” Zim addressed the robot. “Take a genetic sample of me.”

Gir squealed, then moved to do that. Zim winced a little, his teeth clenching and his shoulders tensing up, but held still for Gir to work. “Curious?” Dib asked, his voice quiet. Gaz was watching the three of them, her game back in her hands. She was pretending to not be paying attention to give them some space, Dib realized.

“Something I’ve known,” Zim corrected. “But need answers for.”

His hands stopping in mid-air, Gir frowned. “But…” he twisted to look up at Zim. “This sample’s already taken,” his voice sounded sad and a little scared. “Why is this sample already taken?”

Dib stared at Zim. He stared at Gir.

“Gir?” Dib held up his datapad. “Can you send me the data you just took so I can match it up to the previous sample?”

With a nod, Gir went quiet again, his little legs swinging through the air.

Even Gaz moved closer when Dib tapped the new sample, asking his datapad to connect it to the old one. “It’s a match for Kotlee,” Gaz read off the screen. “Dib, who the hell is Kotlee?”

Zim was frowning, Gir held carefully in his arms.

Swallowing nervously, Dib took a deep breath. “Kotlee was the Irken leader who was taken away by the Baratoth,” he whispered it, unable to make himself louder. Not when Zim looked that confused and worried. “His partner was the one who altered their species when Kotlee was destroyed. Cherecks was the one who changed how they were sequenced.” He watched, waiting, as Zim seemed to rock back on his heels. “Zim, hey,” he put a hand on the Irken’s shoulder. When he wobbled, Dib handed his datapad off to his sister, both hands on Zim’s shoulders now. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He helped lower him to the ground, sitting with him. Gaz stayed close, crouching down to be nearby. “Zim, it’s going to be okay.”

“I’m created from his genetics,” Zim muttered. “Created from him.”

“From what I can tell,” Dib shrugged, hoping it would help. “Kotlee wanted peace and safety for his people. Not complete calm, he liked the chaos of life, but he wanted peace.”

Like the way Zim had created chaos on Earth but had always buckled down to save it when it mattered. Like the way Zim had wanted to take over but had no actual idea what he’d do with the planet once he got there, so he’d planned on just leaving it as it was. Peace, sure, but chaotic. Not murdering all of the planet’s inhabitants, just creating weirdness in their everyday lives, even as he vowed to kill all humans.

Peepi, for example. A little destructive, mostly just plain weird.

Gaz snorted. “So you’re made from the genetics of a guy. So what?” she raised an eyebrow when both of them looked at her. With a shrug, Gaz sat down. “We’re made from Dad’s genetics. Doesn’t mean we’re him.”

“It’s a little different, Gaz.”

“How?” She narrowed her eyes at Dib. “How is it different? Yeah, sure, Irkens and breeding and cloning, whatever. But he’s not the same person as that guy was. Same genetics, different person. Different arrangement of genes – I don’t think he’s expected to be the exact same as him. He was raised differently. He was raised as an Invader, not as that guy.”

Gir hummed happily, his legs kicking still. Gaz gestured at him. “It’s not like Gir is treating him exactly the same.”

Zim stopped moving for a moment, his face blank.

When he started again, he looked at Gaz. “Thank you,” he looked at the ground. Blinking, Zim nodded. “I am not him,” he held Gir closer, hugging him tightly. “But I should look to him as an example.”

“That works,” Dib nodded. “I mean – Yeah, she’s right. You’re not the exact same person. And while it does work differently, genetics can rearrange themselves. If Kotlee was born the natural way, from before Irkens had the technology to do cloning and the artificial stuff, he had two sets of genetics. You’re made from his genetics. That just means you have those two sets in your genetic makeup.” Dib sat back on his heels, pausing. He laughed. “Yeah, your genetics had options. He might have had a different chin shape or a different dominant hand or something like that – the point is, there’s stuff that’s even wired in that would be different. Some of it is because of how you were raised, some of it is because you share genetics, but different options showed up with the same mixture.”

“Dib and I have the same parents,” Gaz shrugged. “But the genes expressed themselves differently.”

Looking at both of them, Zim snorted. “Thank every known power for that,” he giggled, his entire body trembling from it. “I do not think I could handle two of either of you.”

“I don’t think our dad could have either,” she reached out and patted Gir’s head. “I’m going back to the sleeping room. I’ve been training for too long. If either of you wake me up…” Gaz let the quiet threat hang in the air as she walked away.

“It’s going to be okay,” Dib spoke up after she left. “You’re doing pretty good for someone who had all of this dropped on him.”

“I am,” Zim nodded. He patted Gir’s head as well, sticking out a leg to nudge Dib’s datapad closer to him from where Gaz had set it. “I will need all of the data you’re finding organized and listed, Dibstink. Irk needs to know the history of itself. Compile it.” He sighed. “We will teach it to the next generation of smeets. Make sure they know what came before.”

“Make sure they know where they came from,” Dib smiled at him, picking the datapad up.

“Precisely.”

“Good,” standing up, Dib offered Zim his hand. He helped him to his feet, realizing a little belatedly that Zim’s outfit had changed.

He was wearing a longer tunic, a belt around his waist that seemed to have a couple of buttons on it, and a pair of boots with a heavier heel. His gloves had been switched out for something that showed two of his three claws, with his thumbs still covered. “A Soldier’s outfit, for the most part,” Zim offered the information quietly. “The Irken Elite. Exceptions made for the gloves – they are the ones all Tallest have worn before being officially introduced.”

“Any reason for that outfit specifically?”

“They are making armor for me,” Zim’s gaze dropped to the ground. “The previous Tallest’s armor is…Unrecovered. My measurements are different, at any rate. The outfit is something to mark me as different, even beyond my height.”

“That’s cool,” Dib reached out before he could stop himself, taking Zim’s free hand in his. He traced his thumb over the edge of Zim’s glove, feeling something heavy in his chest.

Oh, he needed to stop before he did something stupid.

“C’mon,” Dib stepped back, his hand clenched tightly on his datapad. “We should go sit in the lab if we need to talk some more. Gaz will actually kill us if we wake her up – her training has been a little intense, she’s probably exhausted now.”

“She is a terrifying beast with our weapons,” Zim nodded. His antennae were drooping now that their hands weren’t touching.

Was he upset about something?

Leading the way to their research lab, Dib chattered about everything he’d been reading and finding. He needed to not think about that, right now.

Chapter Text

Even after both of the Membrane siblings attempted to cheer him up, he knew it wasn’t that simple.

He carried Kotlee’s genetics. Being from the next generation down from him meant that Zim had been cloned. While they were not the same, and would never be the same, Zim and Kotlee had too much of a connection to be entirely separate. Kotlee had started as a Researcher; Zim had started as a Scientist. They shared a SIR unit. There were similar tendencies, from what Dib had shown him of Kotlee’s notes. Experiments that no one else really understood until they were completed, research that fell into similar veins.

A tendency towards preferring sterile environments, with a compulsion to clean often.

By training, the way he was raised, how he was raised, and the treatment he’d received, Zim was a separate person entirely. He and Kotlee could be described similarly. There wasn’t a mirror showing one face.

But it was a close thing.

Zim had left Dib to sleep once he had woken up. The human had looked weirdly comfortable, his face smashed against the pillow, one arm wrapped around it. The other had been tangled underneath him, strained, and Zim had nudged him carefully until he’d shifted enough to release the limb.

Zal and Lu were back, a couple of Junior Researchers and Assistant Scientists at their sides. There were a couple who had shown up to explain the traditions and expectations for the Tallest.

“No,” Zim looked at them all, raising his chin. They looked back at him, annoyance flashing across their expressions as they stared. “I am not going to submit to that tradition. The removal of my third claws? It is not happening.” He curled his claws into fists, drawing in on himself. When he just got stares in return, Zim clenched his jaw, taking a moment to breathe. “They couldn’t fight back,” He explained, shaking his head. “Purple and Red. They couldn’t fight back because they couldn’t hold a weapon. That tradition stops.”

“They—”

“The Baratoth descended on the Massive,” Zim just barely managed to keep from snarling. “They attacked, destroyed, murdered every single Irken that they could. If there were survivors, they’re hiding in the galaxy somewhere. I was forced to watch.”

Lu stepped closer, a hand on the back of Zim’s chair in silent support. He nodded shortly at her, then turned his attention back to the one who kept track of traditions. “Purple and Red could not fight back. They could not handle a weapon on their own. Their claws being removed as a symbol of their status, as a mark of being commanders rather than commanded, led to their capture. If they had been able, they could have fought back.” He flexed his claws, maintaining eye contact. “I will not allow that tradition to carry on. It ends. Now.”

Silence reigned, all eyes on him. “Are you saying…” one of the Junior Researchers cleared her throat, her antennae falling back. “Are you intending to fight alongside your Soldiers?”

“I can and will,” Zim tapped his claws on the surface of the table in front of him. One-two-three, one-two-three. The damage was healed, with minor scarring where the one claw had been ripped out. He would never be able to look at his hands and not remember. “I am capable of such things. You doubt Zim?” He frowned, sitting up straighter.

“No, my Tallest!” She froze, her hands clenching her datapad tightly.

“I am not leaving my people to fight alone.” Zim softened his tone, watching as she relaxed. Maybe he could do this. Maybe he could keep his entire race alive, destroy the Baratoth, and keep the threat from reaching the rest of the known universe. He needed to be a good leader, a great Tallest. He would need their trust and belief.

He would need their help.

“Things will change,” Zim met her eyes. “What is your name?”

“Junior Researcher Flevi, Tallest!”

“Good, good,” Zim nodded. “Flevi, I desire a list of all the Junior Researchers. Compile it, bring it to Zim. I wish to know all of those who work close to me.” He pointed at the next Irken over, waiting as he jolted and realized Zim wanted him to talk.

“A-Assistant Scientist Durb, my Tallest!” Durb reacted the same way Flevi had, his entire body going stiff.

“The same from you, from your group,” Zim nodded. “All names shall be known to Zim.” He lay his hands flat on the table, closing his eyes. “I do not wish to end up in a position where I do not know information at crucial times. I wish to be informed of names, of all the ranks, and I wish to know faces that go with those names. And you,” he opened his eyes, turning to look at an Irken who had been standing near the door. “Rank and name?”

“Navigator Ank, my Tallest.”

“Get the Messengers gathered up. Have them call those Invaders who have been sent to other planets. Retrieve them, if need be. Bring them back to Irk.” Zim watched as Ank went pale. “There is no need to give the Baratoth more targets than necessary. Bring our Invaders home. If any of them resist the recall, tell them it is an order from their Tallest and we are under threat.”

“Yes, my Tallest,” Ank bowed his head.

“Dismissed,” Zim remembered after a second. “Durb and Flevi, you two as well. I’ve given you orders.”

The three of them filed out the door.

Zal and Lu stood on either side of Zim’s seat. The Irken who had suggested cutting off Zim’s claw, as part of tradition, was still staring at him. “And you?” he asked, keeping his hands close.

“Historian Gadrir, my Tallest,” Gadrir stared at him, looking nervous. “I…My apologies. I had not thought of what consequences such a tradition could carry.” He stared at the floor, shaking his head. “That they were unable to fight back on their own had not been a thought.” With a small noise of something Zim thought was probably fear, he lifted his gaze again. “I will see to it that the others will not bother you with traditions before understanding the risks.”

“Good,” Zim took a breath. “Dismissed.”

Gadrir walked away, shoulders sunk. Zim watched him go, watched the Historian’s hands trembling as he walked out the door.

With a quiet sigh, Zal and Lu turned to him. “Is there anything else you needed from us?” Lu asked. She waited, patient and quiet, until Zim shook his head. “On the advice of Medical Technician Ke, there is a meal being brought to you.” She dipped her head. “It is good thinking, my Tallest, to know the names of all those around you.”

“Yes, yes, Zim is great,” Zim muttered.

Lu smiled. “You do seem to be a good leader.”

“I would agree,” Zal added. “Doing better than anyone could have reasonably expected from someone who was pushed into the position with no warning. Others have fallen from less.”

“Which is why I see Ke daily,” Zim sighed. “Which is why he monitors my food intake and makes certain I am not in danger. It is also why Sklet is a shadow behind me, at times. The both of them follow up on my dietary needs and habits to ensure I survive.” He looked at his hands. “Did you know my genetic sample matches that of a previous Tallest?” he waited for a moment, the words settling into the room. Zim looked at both of them, seeing their mouths hanging open. “Kotlee. He had a partner, ruling with him, named Cherecks. I match the genetic sample from Kotlee.”

He had never been meant to be an Invader.

Not from his genetics, not from assigned rank. Assigned rank had put him as something lower, Red and Purple deciding his worth as less than nothing. Genetic memory – a theory several Irken scientists and researchers had put forth – put him as a Leader.

Maybe not Tallest, not originally, but something older.

A different way of life.

“I have been told,” Zal hesitated, speaking slowly. “That your genetic makeup is…Old. From a different time.”

“It was used as an insult,” Lu added, her antennae twitching. “They spoke poorly of you.”

Purple and Red always had. “It is the truth,” Zim shrugged, breathing out slowly. He tapped his claws again, tilting his head to each side as he tried to force his neck to relax. Something shifted, his mind blurring for a moment, before he slouched and huffed out a sigh. “But in a different way than they ever thought. Made up of the same genetics as a previous leader,” Zim looked up to see both of them staring at him. “I always used to think being an Invader was in my veins, something I needed to be. Something I always was.”

“The theory of genetic memory states that, perhaps,” Lu tilted her head, a small smile growing. “You are.”

“Not an Invader.”

“Maybe not,” Lu turned her head to Zal, narrowing her eyes with something Zim could only read as glee in her expression. “But you were always meant to be a certain way, a certain type. You do not fit the type of other Irkens, other Invaders, because you do not have the same genetic memories. Others have being Invaders in their genetics. You have being a leader. You have the genetic memories of someone who once…” she stopped, turning back to Zim. “What is the word the humans use? For someone they are attached to.”

“Love,” Zim took another deep breath. “Kotlee loved Cherecks. The two of them led their people together.”

“You have the genetic memories of someone who loved someone else.” Lu nodded.

Zal stared back at her. “Which means I was right to say what I said,” he stuck his tongue out at her, his antennae twitching. “And I ask again: My Tallest, will we be welcoming our first non-Irken Tallest with your reign?”

Zim let his head drop back. The back of his chair hurt a little, but it was little enough to ignore it. His throat felt dry, his hands clenching as he avoided looking at the two of them. Grinding his teeth together, staring at the ceiling, Zim groaned. “That you even thought to ask that in front of him, knowing full well he was getting a translator soon…” he muttered. “Fine,” he sat up straight, throwing his hands up. “Fine! Yes! If he wanted to be!” Zim narrowed his eyes at Zal. “Is that the answer you were looking for? May this matter finally rest?”

Pushing out of his chair, Zim stalked across the room to stare at the screen hanging from the ceiling. Data flashed across it quickly, the lines of the Messengers all busy at once.

Calling the Invaders home.

“If he wanted to be mine,” Zim continued, not looking at either of the two scientists. “Then yes, I would welcome him as my partner.” He clasped his hands together behind his back, keeping his eyes on the screen. “He is smart. Quick-witted. Able to see through many of my plans. Unwilling to let something he sees as an injustice continue.”

Dib had been one of the things anchoring him during his time trapped by the Baratoth.

“…If he wanted me,” Zim muttered. “I would welcome him.”

Lu pushed past Zal, stopping a few steps past him. “My Tallest,” she started. She was interrupted by the door opening, Medical Technician Ke walking in with a service drone at his side. A meal on a platter was held up, deposited on the table with a glance at both of the scientists.

“If the business of the day has been concluded,” Ke spoke up, eyes narrowed. “Tallest Zim has a need to eat. His health is still not where I would like it to be, his levels are still not completely normal.”

Translation: Let Zim eat. Ke was good at getting that point across. He refused to let anything keep Zim from eating.

Zim returned to his seat at the table, dropping into it with a small grunt.

He’d just started eating when he noticed Lu and Zal staring at Ke. The three of them were silent, some unknown discussion happening in front of him. The silence that fell as Zim continued to eat was a little heavier than he would have liked, but it was nothing he couldn’t get past.

“…Is this about the human’s pheromones?” Ke asked, eyes still narrowed at Lu and Zal. “And the way he lingers around our Tallest?”

Zim dropped his utensil, throwing his hands in the air again. “Enoug—Wait, what?”

Ke blinked, looking at him. Zal gestured at him in a ‘go on’ sort of motion Zim knew well enough. “As you have instructed, my Tallest, I have been monitoring the humans. The same as I would for you. I have been tracking everything I might need to know about them. As their main Medical Technician, I need to be aware of what might happen to them. An unknown species, this far from their home planet, without the use of their usual resources and methods?” he shrugged. “I would rather they not die when they are one of our only allies against the Baratoth.”

“Explain faster,” Zim pushed his food away. After a moment, remembering to be polite in some way: “Please.”

“Human Dib follows you around when he is able. He leans into your space. His pheromones indicate interest.” Ke shrugged again. “I have been speaking with Zal and Lu, as well as the humans, to create an understanding of their physiology.”

Dib was interested in him.

Interested.

In him.

Supposedly.

Zim blinked a couple of times, staring at the three of them. “…What.”

Chapter Text

There was something different about the way Zim’s constant entourage looked at him now.

Dib tried to ignore the way the guards stationed at the door watched him. They had their claws wrapped loosely around the spear-like batons they carried; their postures relaxed. He’d seen them train enough that he knew the way they stood was an illusion – they could probably tear someone apart in less time than it would take for an intruder to get through the doors and attempt to get near Zim.

If he hadn’t known that, he probably would have thrown a fit at them about it. They’d just lost two leaders, they needed to be on guard.

Irkens had treated Zim like shit, he’d been on Earth for a long time – Dib was allowed to be protective of him.

Zim, across the room, scrolling through Gir’s databanks, was humming to himself. Like he felt safe enough to focus entirely on the information in front of him, the next conclusion of all the logical steps in order. There was only the goal, the result, the knowledge. That was always what he and Zim had managed to find common ground on, before.

The need to know anything and everything about the problem.

A small, clawed hand landed on his elbow, dragging Dib’s thoughts back into the present. Ke stood there, his antennae twitching gently. “If you could follow me, human Dib?” Ke gestured to the door. He waited as Dib stood up, nodding.

He really did like not dying so far away from home. Ke’s tests and research seemed to be the best way to keep that from happening. Following along quietly, Dib nodded to the guards at the door, gesturing to Zim.

He got a nod in return, as well as a tighter grip on their weapons.

Ke’s datapad was already in his hands when Dib caught up to him again, his claws clicking against the screen as he typed something out. “So,” Ke began. “There was something we needed to speak with you about – something of, despite whatever you might think at first, the utmost importance.” He glanced up, seemed to find something in Dib’s expression, then shook his head. “It’s not anything dangerous!” he reassured.

“Okay,” Dib nodded. “So…Who’s ‘we’?”

“A couple of our scientists,” Ke nodded, his antennae perking up a little. “Scientists Lu and Zal – You may have seen them before, speaking with our Tallest.” He turned his head, watching as two other Irkens walked into the hall they were standing in. “Lu, Zal, this is the human Dib. You have seen him before, as well, but this is your first up-close introduction.”

The two of them bowed their heads.

Dib looked at the three of them, waiting. When none of them said anything, he cleared his throat awkwardly. “So, uh, what’s the important thing?” he gestured at Ke. “He said it was something pretty important. Usually, that means me and my sister get to be tested on for a while, to make sure he knows how to keep us alive.”

“We have noticed how you look at our Tallest,” one of the two burst out. She – Dib was pretty sure he understood how Irken sexual dimorphism worked, by now – froze in place after the words were out.

Once she had spoken up, however, the other one nodded. “And, more importantly, we have seen how he looks at you when you look away.” He steadied the female one with a hand, waiting until she stopped her weird shuddering and twitching from what Dib assumed to be nerves. “I am Zal, by the way. She is Lu.” Zal sighed. “And Lu is correct. We have noticed how you look at our Tallest – how he looks at you, how the both of you manage to miss the way you look at each other. How you smell when you do that.”

“…Smell?” Dib stuttered, feeling like his brain had been yanked out of his skull. That was the first thing he could grab onto, so he was going to cling to it. “What…?”

“Your pheromone levels change when you interact with Tallest Zim,” Ke turned his datapad around so Dib could see the screen. “I have tracked it.”

Taking a deep breath, Dib closed his eyes.

First thing to focus on. One thing at a time, find a way to make sure he could actually talk.

“Is this you trying to tell me to stop?”

“Absolutely not,” Zal’s voice was amused. Dib opened his eyes again to see him grinning. “This is us encouraging.”

“It is perhaps not our place,” Lu leaned a little closer. “But Tallest Zim would have you as his ruling partner, if you wanted to be. He would have you with him, if you only thought to say the words. He won’t say it first – we think you have to.” She smiled, something softer and less amused than Zal’s grin, and Dib stared at her. “If you wanted, he would give. He thinks you are intelligent, unwilling to put up with idiocy, and unwilling to watch injustices play out in front of you.”

“How do you know that?” Dib didn’t want to grab onto the hope he could feel growing, didn’t want to risk reaching out for it and finding out it wasn’t real.

“We spoke with him about it,” Ke stepped back into the conversation, his hand on Dib’s arm. “His guards have already taken your possible future position into account, when it comes to protecting Tallest Zim. Even if nothing else, you are important to him.” He shut off his datapad, tucking it under his arm. “Human Dib, we are a race stripped of our previous leaders. Our newest one was shoved into the position before the blood could dry, practically before he could even wipe it off of himself.”

Zal nodded. “A new rule, brand new, should never start with so much violence and danger. Looking at all of it through the lens of the past sheds new light on the way we speak of such things. The data you’ve recovered helps us understand.”

“He needs you,” Lu added. “Even if you do not feel the same way as him, he needs you as an ally. Someone on the same side as him.”

“…My sister pretty much forced me to realize I was in love with him,” Dib crouched, dropping onto his knees. “I most likely would have spent a long time just…Ignoring that. Probably until it was too late. Until he was gone from my planet or something.” He looked at Lu, who nodded. “The word humans use is friends, by the way. But I do love him.”

He really did.

How had his life gotten this weird? In love with an alien who had once wanted to destroy his planet.

“The guards who follow Tallest Zim around have already reported following your orders as well,” Ke smiled when Dib looked at him. “You have our support, as you have since your arrival. Your guards will increase security around Tallest Zim so that he is better protected in your absence. We are arranging for a set of guards for you on your own, though we are currently lacking in the numbers we would need for such a thing.”

“The guards were all on the main ship of the Armada,” Dib whispered, his throat suddenly dry. The idea of it was a stark reminder of what they were working for, the sort of future they were trying to prevent from happening again.”

“Precisely,” Zal’s claws clenched and unclenched, his antennae twitching. “But we bring this up for your sake, for his sake, for the sake of our race’s future – You would be our first non-Irken Tallest if this happens.” He bowed his head, a claw over his chest. “And I, for one, would be pleased to see it. You have the mind of a Scientist and the skills of a Researcher. From what Tallest Zim has recounted, the videos he has shown us, you are also a skilled tactician and a fighter in your own right.”

“We shall support you in this, as we would any other endeavor you may embark upon,” Lu added. “Nent and Slat have volunteered to be your personal pilots. Sklet and Ke will be your medical team, along with a few others who have volunteered for that duty.”

Dib nodded. “Okay. Good. I’ll feel better if I can match up names and faces when it comes to anyone around Zim – I know those ones but keep me updated on any others who get a duty directly involving him. I’m assuming you’re trying to rebuild a main Armada ship?”

“Yes,” Ke held out his datapad again, scrolling through a list of names. “Starting from the bottom, all the way up. Technicians, Pilots, Guards, Soldiers, Scientists and Researchers being brought in to advise.”

“Alright.” Dib nodded again. He took a moment to breathe, slowly and evenly, before he spoke. “There’s this thing humans did. There was a giant war, pretty much involving the entire planet. When they went to add armor to the machines used to transport people, they wanted to add it to the places that had been hit the most. That wasn’t the right idea.” He stretched out his hands, noticing he had the attention of all three of them. “The correct answer was to armor the places that weren’t hit. The machines that came home? They were the ones who had made it. The hardest hit places on the machines that came back were the ones that had been attacked and still able to function.”

“…Where the least hit ones were the dangerous targets,” Lu paused, frowning, after she spoke. “We need more people to go over ideas with. The wreckage of the main Armada ship!” She looked at Dib, her eyes wide. “We will be getting a report on the remaining wreckage when some of our Invaders return to Irk!”

“We can go over Survivor’s Bias then,” Dib stood up. “C’mon, let’s go talk to the others you’ve got informed on this.”

Dropping onto the bed, Dib groaned and took his glasses off.

He had to wonder how much the previous Tallest had held their people back – All of the scientists had seemed confused by someone actually having any idea what was going on. How many ideas had been silenced?

How many theories had been ignored?

How many times had an Irken tried to bring something to their attention, only to be thrown away and shut down?

Next to him, Zim stirred gently, one eye opening halfway. “Mmr?” he muttered, his antennae twitching. It was so far removed from how Dib normally saw him that his heart almost wanted to beat out of his chest for a moment. When they were younger, Zim never would have allowed Dib to see him like that. Soft and mostly asleep, relaxed in a way he almost never was. His claws were curled in as he held onto his pillow, one of his legs pulled up to his chest.

Between his own feelings and the discussion he’d had with Ke, Lu, and Zal, Dib couldn’t help it. He studied Zim’s face, memorizing the way he looked when he was nearly asleep. “Nothing’s wrong,” Dib murmured. “Just frustrated by the previous Tallest.”

“Lots of Irkens are,” Zim stretched, his legs reminding Dib of a cat for a moment, before he sat up slowly. His antennae twitched again, down and then up, before they splayed out to the sides. Dib would have bet almost anything that those motions had once meant something. Irk had lost a huge amount of emotionality, along with the words for those emotions, and probably so much more. Communication had probably once been silent; antennae and chirps had probably once been the main way of getting the important messages across. Without a translator, that was what the Irken language sounded like. “What is bothering you, Dibstink?”

“How many times did they shut down ideas without even bothering to listen?”

Zim sighed, shaking his head. “More than enough to anger the scientists and researchers. They followed traditions but then ignored other things of greater importance. A fellow Scientist, one I studied with, tried to advise them on how to improve the mapping of the galaxy. They sent her to her death, forced her to go on a mission with an Invader.” He made a face, baring his teeth at the wall. “Her name was Num. She went from the most recommended for a higher position to almost an exile in a matter of…Weeks.” Zim let out a small noise that might have almost been a sob. “She was not trained for such a mission.”

“Anything that would have required effort on their part was shut down?” Dib scooted closer to him, offering Zim his hand. Zim took it, already nodding. “That sucks.”

“I have no idea how many were ignored, sent away, or simply killed because Red and Purple were annoyed by their ideas and words.” Zim leaned into Dib’s shoulder. “I have no idea how to fix it, either. There are Soldiers who are terrified to speak up in front of me. Scientists who stay silent until I ask them directly what they are thinking. As if the great Zim would ever do that!” he scoffed, sticking his tongue out. “I need to hear them. I cannot do this on my own,” he winced, looking down at their hands. “As much as it pains me to admit it.”

“I mean…That’s better than not admitting it?” Dib watched as Zim’s face pinched into an odd expression, then relaxed again. “You weren’t trained directly for this, as far as I know. You were specifically sent away because they didn’t want to deal with you.”

“I destroyed part of Irk, it is a much different story.”

Dib snorted, then laughed. He couldn’t stop himself. Gaz shifted in her sleep, a frown growing, and that managed to make him silent again. Something occurred to him after a few minutes of silence. “Wait, why did you destroy part of your own planet?”

“Operation: Impending Doom,” Zim shrugged. “It felt like it needed to be destroyed. I had not yet left Irk when I got into a mech and set fire to much of everything involved in the mission.”

“…Was this a mission to invade the galaxy?”

“Yes?” Zim stared at him, confused.

Dib stared back. “Your genetics at work again,” he smiled. “An echo of someone else. Kotlee didn’t want to invade, from his journal entries. He wanted to catalog the entire galaxy, get samples of everything and study it all. He kept his people from attacking other species besides the Baratoth.”

“So you have said before,” Zim kept staring at him. “Kotlee just wanted peace.”

“Chaos, but peace. Not war,” Dib squeezed his hand, smiling when Zim squeezed back. “Not invasion and taking over. You fulfilled his wish, in a way – I mean, maybe not the most conventional way ever, but you did. Kotlee did not want conquest.”

“…I do not either.”

The words were a whisper of sound, so quiet Dib almost missed them. “That’s probably good. I don’t think Earth could actually put up much of a fight if you put your full effort into taking over.”

Zim blinked a couple of times, squeezing Dib’s hand almost rhythmically, then leaned in and pressed their mouths together. 

Chapter Text

Oh, what had he just gone and done?

The human was sitting there, stunned and silent, unmoving in the wake of Zim’s actions. Zim pulled back; his entire body tensed—

Except Dib grabbed for him, holding him still. Pulling him in closer. Human hands, clumsy and warm, found his wrists and held onto him, a thumb rubbing gently on each side to try and calm him down. If the human wasn’t going to pull away, neither was he. Zim held still after a minute, breathing slowly. “Well,” Dib laughed. Zim looked at him, watching the way his eyes dilated and his cheeks burned. “So there’s that,” he was still smiling – not aggression, humans didn’t smile for aggression like some species did. Not usually, anyways.

“There’s that,” Zim nodded. “Anything else?”

“I’d like to do that again,” Dib closed his eyes. “Maybe not when we’re riding this close to danger, when we can actually figure out what we’re doing and make sure it won’t hurt you.” He made some weird gesture between them. “Humans are mostly water.”

“My support system keeps asking if you’re aware I like you, Dibstink. They keep asking if they need to be prepared to have a non-Irken Tallest.” Zim snorted, shaking his head. His antennae twitched, his claws curling up in his lap. Dib reached out and took his hands again, just holding him gently. “After this is over,” Zim narrowed his eyes at Dib. “No getting out of it, human worm.”

“We need to talk,” Dib leaned into him again, their foreheads pressed together. “And, again – make sure I won’t kill you if we do anything together.”

Zim hissed with laughter, shaking his head again. “As if that would get you away from me, Dibstink. As if that would stop me. There are converters, there are Scientists at my command. There is no easy escape from me that an answer or a solution would have! If the mighty Zim wants something,” he grinned. “He shall have it.”

“See, this is why people thought we were dating in school,” Dib laughed this time, wheezing and uncontrolled. “You match my energy.”

“You matched mine first!”

“Probably true,” Dib pulled Zim against him, flopping back onto the bed they’d been sharing the entire time they’d been on Irk. He arranged them so that Zim landed on his stomach and side, keeping pressure off of his Pak. Zim took a moment to sink his teeth into the fabric of Dib’s shirt, just holding there until the urge passed. “I want to do this, I really do.” Dib skimmed a finger over the outer edge of Zim’s jaw, his eyes falling closed. “But…”

Zim nodded. “War. Death. Destruction. Possibly the erasure of my entire species as a whole, rather than just putting us somewhere within the bounds of ‘extinct in the wild’, like some of your Earthen creatures.” He curled closer to Dib, his claws clutching Dib’s shirt so tightly he didn’t think anyone or anything would be able to get him loose.

“Yeah, that.”

They sat there for a while, in silence, with Zim’s head over the thrumming of Dib’s heart. He could feel the organ pulsing, keeping his human alive without faltering. The previous Tallest would have had Dib put down for daring to do what he was doing.

The previous Tallest had been killed for how they’d existed and led their race.

Purple and Red had been killed because the Baratoth had hunted them down. They had refused to see it as a threat, refused to listen when Zim had sent reports to Irk. They had ignored the strange signals that Zim had picked up over the years, the ones that sounded familiar in a way he couldn’t name. They hadn’t listened.

Not until it had been too late. Not until they had been captured and killed in front of him.

So he would change the rules.

He would lead his people differently. He would listen to them. He would pay attention to reports, hear his people out. He wouldn’t ever ignore something that scared him simply because it scared him. When his datapad chirped at him, Zim tilted his head to read the incoming message as it displayed above the bed.

“Irken Invaders have returned to Irk, numbers reduced.”

Zim sat up, instantly feeling sick. “Dib,” He grabbed for his human’s shoulder, shaking it gently. “Dibstink!”

With wide eyes, Dib sat up as well, his glasses nearly flying as he hurried to read the report. “Shit, okay,” he nodded. Across the room, Gaz was sitting up in her bed, a snarl growing on her face. “Gaz!” Dib called her name carefully. “We need to go handle something – the Irken Invaders are back. Report is saying there’s less of them.”

With some mumbling, Gaz slipped out of bed, dragging a sweater on over the dress she’d been sleeping in. “Damn it,” she hissed. “Okay, I’m good, I’m good!” she wobbled a little as she stuffed her feet into her shoes, batting Dib’s steadying hand away from her shoulder.

Zim watched as the brother and sister pair got dressed quickly, throwing themselves together in seconds. Good enough to face an Irken Court. Standing, Zim tugged his gloves back on, grabbing his belt and coat as he moved to stand next to Dib. “Time to go,” he raised his chin. Both of them nodded. Leading the way out of their room, Zim nodded as his guards stood up a little straighter, weapons held firm. One held formation ahead of Zim, glancing with a small amount of surprise at the way Zim and Dib walked in step with each other.

The other held formation in the back, keeping a healthy distance from Gaz. She still looked like she might kill someone for having been woken up.

Zim held himself steady as they made it to the meeting hall, the guards on the other side opening the doors smoothly. Dib stayed with him as he walked to the center of the stage, Gaz trailing immediately behind them. There they were.

Forty-five Irken Invaders in total.

Staring at the much smaller crowd, Zim almost wanted to run screaming. The Invaders were the best. The best of the best, even. The Irken Elite trained to become Invaders. They all watched him, eyes wide and reactions mixed. He could see shock, terror, anger – and even jealousy. Some confusion, as well. All of them stared at him. “My Invaders,” Zim addressed them. “I am your new Tallest.”

Invader Skoodge stepped forward, his mouth hanging open. “You…You weren’t even an Invader!”

“Be that as it may,” Zim raised a hand and hushed the gathered crowd. “I am your Tallest, now. I watched as Tallest Red and Purple died. I was there to see it.” He clenched his jaw, his antennae staying still only by his absolute need to not show weakness. The Invaders all went pale, shocked, and horrified now. “The Baratoth, our oldest enemies, have returned. They have made a return. They’ve come back, they’ve made a statement intending to destroy Irk, and they have murdered our previous Tallest.”

“…You watched?” One of the Invaders looked like she might be sick. Zim wanted to be able to express that same sentiment. Yuli, if he remembered correctly. “They made you watch?”

“Yes,” Zim nodded. “And I promise you, my Invaders, that I will lead you to the best of my abilities. I have forged an allyship with the planet I was sent to – These are some of their best, in return for our help.” He watched as a light spun around to shine on Dib and Gaz. “They are trusted, tried, and tested, and they have earned their right to stand where they stand at this moment. They have seen me through the battles I have fought, they have helped my causes and intentions, and they were the ones who helped me once I managed to escape from the Baratoth.”

Skoodge’s face was paler than it had been a second ago. “How did you escape?”

“I managed it very carefully,” Zim swallowed, trying to stay calm. He had to phrase it carefully. There was about a ninety percent chance Skoodge would be on his side if he phrased it the right way. The others were already nodding and agreeing. Even Invader Tenn was listening intently. “There was damage. The Baratoth killed the Almighty Tallest, destroyed the main ship of the Armada, and left their staff, guards, pilots, and soldiers to die. I am not asking for your submission – I know I will need your understanding and complete trust for that. What I am asking you for, in this moment, is your help. Our people are threatened. Our home is at risk.”

The air was still as every single Irken watched.

Even Dib seemed to be holding his breath, still standing immediately at Zim’s side. Gaz had her eyes closed, her hands clenched behind her back, when Zim took a quick glance at her.

With a quiet nod, Skoodge stepped back into the line of Invaders. “We’ve relinquished our hold on our conquered planets, my Tallest. As ordered. In place of those holds, we’ve offered the idea of treaties, also as ordered.” His hands were shaking, Zim realized. How bad had it been, out there, to find out the news of the deaths of the previous Tallest?

“Very good indeed,” Zim nodded. “Invaders, send your data to my Scientists. Bring any particularly useful data and personal knowledge to the Human Dib,” he extended a hand to show them which one he was, feeling something warm in his chest at the way his human held up his own hand.

Humans. Always so ready to be helpful, even in the worst situations.

With his orders given, Zim marched down from the stage, followed by Dib and Gaz. Skoodge immediately broke formation to follow them. “Zim, seriously,” he huffed the words out as he hurried to keep pace with them. “How did you get so…Tall?” He looked up at him, frowning. “Wherever they sent you must have been good for you.”

“Planet Earth,” Zim nodded. “Was very good to me. A dreadful atmosphere, almost fatal for an Irken, but acceptable for the gravitational pull.”

Skoodge fell silent, practically running. When Zim stopped around a corner, in a back hall, and out of sight of the crowds, he nearly fell over. Dib crouched down. “Are you okay?”

“I’m—” Skoodge coughed. “Fine. One moment.”

They all waited as he breathed normally again. Skoodge had always been inclined towards worry and anxiety, Zim remembered. Always the one worrying about breaking rules and getting into any sort of trouble. He was much shorter than the average Irken height. “I am not taking on the role of Tallest for any sort of personal reasons,” Zim explained quietly. He crouched down, leaning into Dib a little. “I am trying to keep our people alive, Skoodge. The Baratoth nearly killed me. Would have, if it weren’t for my SIR unit. You know the faulty one I was given?”

“Yeah,” Skoodge nodded. He paused, then nodded again. “I thought that was a fake one or something. They didn’t want to give you anything.”

“Gir isn’t fake,” with a sigh, Zim closed his eyes. Dib’s hand was warm on his arm, steadying him. “Gir belonged to a previous Tallest named Kotlee. He was Kotlee’s research assistant, he kept his data and samples in order. I am from a different generation of Irken genetics.”

Skoodge shrugged. “I mean…I never thought you should take that too seriously. It was just the others being rude.”

“I am, though.”

“…What?”

“Tallest Kotlee’s genetics were kept in a gene bank once Irk switched genetic systems from organic to our current one. Kotlee’s were cataloged,” Zim opened his eyes again, watching as Skoodge’s expression dropped from confused into surprised and almost a little scared. “I was created from Tallest Kotlee’s genetics. Given time, I may very well have naturally grown into his height. Earth’s gravitational pull simply sped the process up.”

Skoodge swayed for a few seconds, then dropped to the floor. “Wait, you’re telling me you’re literally built from the genetics of a previous Tallest?” He made a noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh, hoarse and painful sounding. “You should have been raised in the Elite!”

“But he wasn’t,” Dib spoke up. “And now we’re dealing with him having to be trained in what to do. We’ve got a support system in place, including myself and my sister.” He stuck his hand out, expression serious, mouth pressed into a flat line. “Does it include you?”

Staring at Dib, at his hand, at Zim, at Gaz – Skoodge nodded slowly. “Of course it does,” he whispered. “I would be an idiot not to include myself.”

He shook Dib’s hand.

Gaz groaned, rubbing at her face. “Good, great,” she shoved past them, snagging the arm of one of the guards. “I’m going back to bed, don’t wake me up!”

“…Is she safe to be around?” Skoodge asked quietly.

“She has been busy lately.” Dib shrugged. “She’s training on Irken weaponry and fighting styles. And she’s been studying with the Pilots, lately. Soldiers and Pilots. So, she’s just really tired, right now.” He stood up slowly, offering his hand to Zim. Taking it, Zim stood next to him. Hidden between them, Dib curled his fingers around Zim’s claws, holding tight for a moment. With his grip loosened, Dib didn’t let go.

Looking like he was about to faint, Skoodge nodded. “Good to know. How did they hurt you?”

“My claws snapped. Injuries in a couple of other places.” Zim shook his head, sighing. “I need you to help me convince the other Invaders to follow my orders. I cannot do this without their support. Irk itself will fall if the Invaders are not willing to listen to my orders and follow them.”

“Yes sir!” Skoodge saluted him. All at once, he was more serious and Invader-like. He scurried back towards the hall, disappearing around a corner.

Zim leaned into Dib, standing there with him for just a few seconds longer.

Chapter Text

They didn’t have much time.

Judging by the data, the scans of space, and the timing reported by the returning Invaders, Dib knew they had very little time left. The Baratoth were coming – There was no chance they would be coming slowly. Not with the grudge held, not with the way they had destroyed the previous Tallest. They wanted Irk and all of the Irkens erased. Inter-species war wasn’t too far off in the future and time was starting to run out.

Maybe it had started to run out the moment Dib had found Zim in a cardboard box and taken him home. The Baratoth had probably started hunting his Irken down from the moment he’d gotten away.

Scrolling through his datapad, Dib tried to block everything else out. The Irkens were sending him reports every few minutes, a new ping of noise to grab his attention, but he’d gotten them to do it in a specific order. Skoodge was nearby, directing them with a hard tone and a quick gesture. Zim had given Dib a brief summary of the other Invader – Skoodge had been short and stout and ignored for a long time. Once he had Invaded and successfully taken over the planet Blorch, he had been given some recognition, though not much. The Tallest had given his victory to someone else. Skoodge had been reassigned after some training.

Zim had mentioned that part in a way that Dib knew meant he didn’t want to talk about it.

With the quick alliance built between Zim and Skoodge, the smaller Irken helping to direct the others, Dib could focus on the data and the important information. The scientists were helping him sort through the information as quickly as possible.

Dib let out a noise when a small metal hand stuck itself in his face. “Gir!” Dib stared at the robot, who nodded. “What’s going on?”

“Samples being archived,” Gir nodded, almost pouting. “The air tastes wrong.”

“Oh,” Dib took a deep breath, nodding along with him. “Okay.” He stood up, datapad in hand, then scooped Gir into his free arm and started walking. Find Zal, find Lu, find the ones who knew the most about everything that was happening. Gir had been fixed, so he responded correctly to hierarchy, now. Still treated Zim as a friend and as family but reported information to him. When Gir couldn’t find Zim, he would find Dib.

Something about Dib already being marked as a future mate, as a future leader. As the one who would be standing at Zim’s side.

If, Dib thought darkly, just for a moment, if they survived.

He pushed that thought away.

The Baratoth seemed like a nightmare. They seemed like the worst sort of nightmare. Dangerous enough to have the Invaders undo their work in taking over planets and restoring them so that they could be unattached to the Irken symbol. If the Baratoth saw planted flags, a claim on a planet, they would burn the whole world. Given the success of some of the Invaders, that would mean that more than a dozen planets would burn to ash.

Still staring at his datapad, Dib stopped. Mid-step, his entire body froze. “Wait, Gir, the air tastes wrong?”

“Yeah!” Gir swung his legs, humming something softly in between words. “Like when a car crashes and everything ‘splodes!” He wiggled again. “Or – or when…Wait, that’s bad,” he frowned, his eyes going red for a moment. “The air doesn’t taste good. It’s supposed to.”

Dib stared at a wall, then jolted into a run.

Without a free hand, really, he slammed a knee into the pressure pad to open a door, waiting with all the patience of a horse in a race. Once the door had opened enough for him to slip through, he was off again. Gir’s hands were clenched in the fabric of his sleeve, the tiny robot making a shrieking noise as he was jumbled in Dib’s arm. When they got into the room Zim was speaking to his main company, all of the Irkens looked up at Dib with startled expressions. He didn’t care – he slapped his datapad down and set Gir on his feet, pushing him forward. “Tell them,” Dib said, nodding. “Gir, tell them what you just told me. The thing about the air.”

“It doesn’t taste right!” Gir sat down, frustrated. “Tastes wrong, tastes like when a car ‘splodes.”

“When a what…Does what?” One of the scientists frowned, his antennae twitching. “My Tallest?” he looked at Zim.

“Engine combustion.” Zim waved him off. “Scientist Tup…” he stopped, then met Dib’s eyes. “Gir, cross-reference the sample with the air sample the day I was taken by the Baratoth.” He stood up straighter as Gir nodded, his feet tapping the table’s surface with an uneven rhythm. Gir’s eyes lit up, his own antenna flashing. “Is that a confirmed match?”

“Mm-hm!” Gir laughed. “The composition of the unknown element matches the composition of the unknown element in the air that day!”

“The Baratoth are here,” Dib watched as he and Zim spoke at the same time, the words falling out of them together. “We don’t have time for anything else,” Dib continued. “Zim, get your guards. Get everyone on alert. We need to be ready.”

“And we need to be ready now,” Zim nodded, already running out from behind the table to Dib’s side. He leaned over the datapad, scrolling through quickly. “I hope that there has been enough time to sort out the information – we don’t have time for anything else, as you’ve said. Scientists Tup, Lu, and Zal, get the information we’ve gone over to Engineer Frok. Let her know about the shielding we’ve discussed. Tell her to get ready!”

He scooped Gir up, then snatched Dib’s hand and started running.

“Where are we going?” Dib managed to ask over the sudden rush of adrenaline, half-gasping the words.

“To the new Armada ship!” Zim called back to him, tugging him closer. “It’s not yet complete – but it will have what Zim needs!” He squeezed Dib’s hand, once then twice, and kept him close as they ran. “Your sister—” An alarm went off above their heads, lights flashing and a couple of different sirens blaring, blotting out Zim’s words.

“What?”

“Your sister will be sent to that ship once that alarm goes off!” Zim raised his voice. “Keep moving!”

Dib nodded, hearing an automated voice saying something over the cacophony of alarms and orders being belted out in the distance. “—ships incoming. I repeat, enemy ships incoming. Report to your stations. Enemy ships incoming. I repeat, enemy ships—” was all he heard before the sound was swallowed by an explosion in the distance.

The sound of running boots only got to him when they were close enough to see. “Guard Relo, reporting for duty, my Tallest!” a voice barely managed to be heard over the noise. Dib watched as the Irken it belonged to gave a quick salute, already rushing past the motion and into the position of protecting Zim and Dib. He was followed by a couple of others. From the way Zim nodded at them, they were the ones he’d been talking about having been assigned as personal guards. If Dib remembered correctly, they were named Uryi and En. “Guard En, go to make certain there are no unknown dangers inside of the ship! It may not be finished, unable to fly as it is, but Tallest Zim requires resources on board!”

En nodded, giving the same quick salute as he ran past.

Dib stopped to breathe, finally, looking around. They were right; The ship wasn’t ready to go anywhere. There were missing outer panels, a half-built engine exposed to the air. “Do you have any smaller ships we can use?” Dib turned to Relo, a hand stretched out to catch his attention. “Something quick and easy to use.”

“The only thing that we have that is not currently attuned to another biosignature is—” Relo looked around, then gestured. “That one!”

Another set of running steps caught Dib’s attention. He glanced at the ship, nodding, then turned to see who else had arrived. Relief choked him for a moment, his stomach clenching at the sight of Gaz running towards him. Her hair was a mess, but she looked like she was okay. “Get your ass in a ship!” Gaz snarled, pushing him towards Relo. Behind her, looking a little lost and out of breath as well, was Nent. Without slowing down, Nent slipped away from Gaz at a gesture from Relo. “She’s got Zim, get in a ship!”

Dib nodded, letting himself be guided away by Uryi. “I’m staying close,” he told Uryi, who nodded. “Flying close to Zim. I’m not letting him be alone in this!”

“That is important information,” Uryi nodded. “Now, please, Tallest Dib, get into your ship! It is as your fellow human demands – For your safety, my Tallest, get into your ship!” He ushered Dib into the ship Relo had pointed out, holding the door as Slat came running. Once Slat had thrown himself in, Uryi closed the door.

“You’re alright?” Dib turned to Slat, who nodded. “Good, we need to get moving.”

From the corner of his eye, Dib could see where Gaz was. He could see she was alone in her chosen ship, staring back at him with a grim expression. Dib lunged for the communicator, fiddling with the buttons until the line opened and Gaz answered. “Gaz!” Dib pulled the communicator to his face, nearly yanking it out of the console in his hurry.  

“Just shut up and keep doing your nerd thing!” she snarled back. “I’m going to fly this thing!”

Tak’s Spittle cruiser was hovering, finally airborne after so long grounded in their garage at home. The Technicians and Engineers they had been talking to had been able to fix the issues, wipe out the traps and code that Tak had left in it. They had hauled it from Earth when they had picked the four of them up to bring them to Irk. “Gaz, please,” Dib held the communicator close for a few moments longer. “Please. Don’t di—…Be careful out there. Please.”

“I will be, now get moving!” She looked at him, met his eyes across the distance. “I don’t want to have to drag your ass as a corpse back home, okay? Don’t make me explain that to dad.”

“Got it,” Dib nodded. He put the communicator down, watching as she focused on piloting Tak’s ship.

They’d only been informed, a few days after arriving on Irk, that Tak’s ship had been brought with them. Once Gaz had found out, she had demanded to be trained in flying it. Slat and Nent had brought up concerns over the coding and the traps Tak had set up and Dib had gotten into the details with them. She was the safest she was ever going to be in their current situation. “Your sister will be safe,” Slat whispered. “Please, Tallest Dib, your sister will be safe. She has had training with as many varieties of positions as she can. She is, by my judgment, as ready for this as any soldier.” He reached out and put a claw on Dib’s elbow. “As ready as one can ever be.”

Dib nodded, his jaw clenching as he closed his eyes. “I’ve got weapons handled,” Dib finally managed to speak.

“I will fly us safely,” Slat answered. “Relo, Uryi, and En are all loyal to Tallest Zim. They will have him safe and guided through this danger. I know…” he hesitated, then nodded. “I know that is a concern of yours. Your sister is as well. Even Tallest Zim’s SIR unit is a concern of yours.” He hesitated, then smiled. “Human loyalty seems to be an enduring trait, no matter the circumstances.”

“That’s one of the good things about us, I guess,” Dib nodded. He settled into his seat, his hands on the weapon controls. “Let’s go stop the Baratoth.”

“Let us,” Slat nodded back.

There was nothing he could do at the moment besides focus on what was immediately happening. The problem in front of him. Things would probably be easier if he could see the people he loved, both family and potential future partner, but this would have to do. Side-by-side with a pilot he trusted, with his research and information fresh in his mind.

This would have to do.

Chapter Text

The skies of Irk were filled with approaching enemy ships.

Zim stared up at them, his hands pressed against the dashboard of the unfinished armada ship. Nent worked quickly at his side, her hands moving without failing or faltering even once. She was well-trained, good at what she was doing, and her skill made something panicked settle inside of him. “Slat is staying with the Human Dib, my Tallest,” Nent didn’t even look at him as she spoke, her antennae laid flat against her head. “This will be a fight of some desperation.” She paused, staring with wide eyes into the screen in front of her, then shook her head and continued working.

Uryi stood guard at the door behind them, his staff raised and ready. En stood at the other side of the door from him, poised in the same way. They watched in opposite directions, waiting for whatever was coming.

Relo had gone running off, moving to prepare other Irkens, with a shouted order for Uryi and En over his shoulder to make sure Zim got on a ship.

Through the windscreen of the armada ship, Zim could see Gaz and Dib. They weren’t in the same ship, which made his squeedily spooch twist and clench. They were both more than competent, well-trained, and prepared to do whatever it took to survive, but he had never seen them be apart like that when it came to something endangering whatever they were fighting for. Separated briefly, certainly. Never this far apart, never with this much to lose. Zim clutched Gir a little closer, breathing deeply when the tiny robot wrapped both arms around one of Zim’s wrists.

Despite everything they argued about, how Gaz sometimes yelled at Dib or hit him with something, he knew they were siblings. They did love each other, even if it showed in rough ways at times.

This was worse than anything else they had ever worked with him to fight against.

This wasn’t Tak with a vengeance. This wasn’t a confused alien race invading because they made a mistake. This was the Baratoth – They wanted the complete extinction of the Irken race because they missed being predators and having Irkens as their prey. They’d never had to fight back against something this big. The only time something came to Earth on the level of the Baratoth was the Planet Jackers and…Dib and Gaz hadn’t been involved.

They had been unaware until Dib had come to Zim’s base a few days later and asked what had happened. Because clearly, something had happened.

Zim hugged Gir a little closer as he stood up straight. That had been the first time he and Dib had talked without it being a part of a fight. That had been the beginning of something that Zim might have called a friendship.

“My Tallest?” Nent had moved to face him. “I have everything set up.”

With a nod, Zim followed her.

The plan was actually almost simple.

Zim would take Nent and Uryi with him. En would follow along after a few minutes, having picked up the supply of weaponry they had put together for Zim’s ship. Because the main armada ship wasn’t ready yet, they were getting into one of the Ring Cutter ships. Smaller, yes, but powerful and fast. From there, they would make a path through the fighting, with Zim giving orders to the fleet surrounding him.

With any luck and more than a bit of hope, they would come out victorious.

Gir stayed quiet at Zim’s side as their Ring Cutter lifted off. Nent was at the controls, her focus entirely on flying and keeping them in the air. Uryi had a seat to the side, his claws clenched tightly around the weapon system controls. Even without saying anything, Zim could tell they were all nervous.

“I am going to get us through this,” Zim kept his voice even. If he could make himself believe it, hopefully they would too. “Alive and safe as possible.”

Both of them nodded.

Behind Zim, the door of the Ring Cutter slammed shut. “Reporting for duty, my Tallest!” En slid into view, the bag of armaments in his claws. He dropped to the ground, sorting through quickly. “Since you have not gotten the traditional Tallest alterations, I can give you this,” he handed over a one-handed weapon. “With my best judgment, my Tallest, I would recommend that one not be your main.”

“Noted,” Zim nodded. He settled the plasma gun into a holster on his hip, watching as En sorted through more. Most of the weaponry of Irk had gone on the Massive. Everything more deadly than the basics had been discarded in the wake of Purple and Red’s ship being destroyed.

This battle would decide the fate of all Irkens and Irk itself. If they could pull through the loss of resources and weaponry, they could survive.

“A shock spear,” En listed off, holding one up. Zim took that, as well, though he settled it next to him, on the opposite side from Gir. “And finally – Here!” He held up a plasma rifle. “It should be, in theory, capable of gouging through the Baratoth’s chitin. It has not been tested, as of yet, but…In theory…” he closed his eyes, his antenna flopping back. “Please, Tallest Zim. Please.” En shook his head. “I hope that you do not need these weapons. I hope that we can touch back down on the ground of our planet. I hope that Irk remains and that we remain to return to it.”

Zim took a moment, closing his eyes as well. “If I have anything to say about it, we will.” He could only offer those words.

He felt young and untrained, suddenly. There was a threat above them, something every single Irken had grown up fearing. Instinct screamed to run, to keep running until the Baratoth were nothing more than a nightmare in the distance. It almost felt hopeless, mounting a defense against them.

But he needed to.

He was the Irken leader now. If he could manage this, he could manage anything. If he made it back alive, he could take Dib as a mate, as a partner, as everything, and walk into the future with him. The threat needed to be dealt with first, because he could not do anything about how they felt without doing so. Zim had never been trained to be Tallest, had never been viewed as a viable option, but now he was just going to have to do his best.

Bravado was easy enough. Put on a specific mask and pretend that was all him.

He’d done that for a decade on Earth. All those calls to the Massive, braving the angry judgment of the previous Tallest. Pretending he hadn’t known they thought of him as a failure, as a point of shame – this was easier, compared to that.

En settled into his seat next to Uryi, both of them holding their heads up. “Take off,” Zim ordered them. He opened the communications channel, and every single Irken ship available linked into the conversation. “All Invaders, into flight positions. All Pilots, into flight positions.” The real test of how well he could pretend he felt nothing but confidence came now. “Every Irken must be armed and prepared to take off. The Baratoth are attacking – we have a planet to defend. I know, as Invaders, that the concept of a ‘home’ is a difficult thing. Home is where you settle, once you have conquered. But Irk is our home, even when we are far away. Irk is where we were created, where we were taught.” Zim watched as Nent sat up a little steadier, her antennae perking with every word he spoke. “Irk is our beginning. Without Irk, there are no Irkens. Home as a separated concept is difficult for Invaders, but we must never forget that Irk is ours.

“I realize this is a lot to ask of you. Your lives have been put on the line many times before, yes, but this is different. This is the enemy that has chased us since our beginning. They sought to make prey out of all of us. They have destroyed our Tallest – Several generations of them, in fact – and have done so with laughter and amusement.” Zim could see Dib watching him, their eyes meeting through the windscreens of their ships. “But if you let me, I will lead us through this battle. I will lead us to victory. You have all been briefed on the plans, on the formations, and on the weaknesses I have discovered.” He hesitated, his hands shaking, but he continued. “Destroy them. If we intend to make it through this, we must eliminate the Baratoth as a threat.”

Watching Dib nod, Zim felt the shake in his hands fall still.

There wasn’t any hesitation in Dib’s expression. Slat was at the controls, making sure that Dib wouldn’t have any problems with flying an Irken ship. They had only been acquainted with Slat for a short time, but Zim was pretty sure they could trust him – his scores were among the best of all Irken pilots.

“Be armed,” Zim continued, feeling steadier. “Be ready. Defend yourselves and others with all necessary force.”

He wasn’t an echo of someone from the past.

There wasn’t any way to explain it to someone else, but he knew it at that moment. Kotlee was a matching tune, an accompanying voice, with some of the same words but a different part of a song. He had once stood in this exact position and tried to reason with the Baratoth. He’d spent years trying to get them to stand down, to see reason, to form an alliance rather than an enmity. Kotlee and Zim were singing the same song but with different verses and different lines of the chorus. Different ranges – he couldn’t remember the word for it, but humans sang in different tones. Kotlee was a higher pitch, with Zim hitting the lower notes.

Zim managed to wait until he’d closed the comm line before snorting. He’d lived too long in a human society, thinking like that.

“My Tallest?” En spoke up.

“Go,” Zim ordered. “Either we do this now or we disappear from the galaxy entirely.”

He reached down and put a hand on Gir’s head as they took off. Taking to the sky meant coming closer to the oncoming crowd of Baratoth ships. If he hadn’t known they were all filled with Baratoth, he would have assumed several races had come together to form a fighting force. The Baratoth armada was hastily slapped together, stolen technology a recurring theme with them. He could see the technology of the Vortians scattered through the crowd of ships.

Something icy and painful rolled through him as he realized what all the ships had in common: They had all been ships commissioned by previous Tallests. The Vortians had simply been their most recent source of ships.

Zim grit his teeth, staring all of them down. Somewhere, on one of those ships, was the Baratoth who had tried to kill him. The one who had killed Purple and Red. Maybe even ones who had killed a couple of previous Tallests as well – Baratoth lifespans were almost completely unknown to Irkens.

Was Kotlee’s killer out there?

That thought circled around his mind, refusing to leave. Cherecks had gone almost insane in how tightly he’d regulated his people after Kotlee had been killed. The entirety of the Irken race had been genetically altered to account for how hurt he’d felt. One of the journal entries Dib had found was written by Cherecks, talking about how it would be better if Irkens couldn’t feel as much. It would be safer, kinder, perfect. One broken heart had altered an entire species.

“Oh, this is so stupid,” Zim muttered. None of his shipmates bothered to ask him what he meant.

It didn’t matter, not with the first plasma blast fired at them.

Chapter Text

Running headfirst into an armed space battle was, in fact, probably a really stupid idea.

Dib couldn’t focus on that at the moment, however. With every blast fired, he could see why Irkens were able to conquer fairly easily. Their weapons were powerful, their pilots better at maneuvering than the Baratoth ships, the way they kept communication going as they fought and flew. There was too much immediately in front of him to focus on how stupid of an idea this was. Slat threw out suggestions and Dib could only nod, confirm with a quick noise, and follow through. The Irken Pilot was impressive at the controls, protecting both of them.

It felt like an eternity of noise and movement before something changed.

A video communication.

From the Baratoth.

“Well done, Irken Fighters!” A hissing voice to match a chitinous face had Dib’s stomach sinking as Slat got them out of sight. As a smaller ship, they were able to slip through spaces that a lot of other vessels would never be able to. Slat reached out, putting his hand on Dib’s shoulder when he saw Dib’s face. For the first time ever, he could see the beings that had hurt Zim. That had traumatized him by murdering his leaders in front of him.

“We had not believed you could muster such a – Oh, what is the word?” clicking laughter slipped out, a pair of antennae waving above an oil-slick-shine set of mandibles. They looked sharp and able to kill. If the notes Dib had read were correct, they were meant for snapping an Irken’s neck so they could eat them. Maybe not what they had originally developed for, but that was what they had ended up being used for. “A resistance, I guess. Something so small and pitiful cannot truly be called resistance. Now, to an important matter—All of this, this fighting, and this violence can end now.” The Baratoth grinned. “Give us your leader, little Irkens. He escaped from us, and, by his height, we know he’s the one running things for all of you. If he survived the return to Earth and he left on the Irken ship that left shortly after, he came back here to tell all of you.”

“He’s lying,” Dib whispered.

Slat stared at the video communication, nodding slowly. He unclipped himself from the restraining harness attached to his back, standing up from his seat and rummaging through something behind Dib. “Did you receive an atmospheric shell generator?” he asked.

“What?” Dib turned to look at him, frowning. “I mean, yeah, I did. Why?”

“A personal one?” Slat held something out to him. It looked like a short staff of some kind. With a noise, Dib took it. “A shock staff. A more basic version of a shock spear, like the guards carry. A personal atmospheric shell generator would be installed within an Irken’s Pak.” He pulled something else out, moving back over to Dib. “Trust me,” Slat kept his voice quiet as the Baratoth droned on in the background, lying to the Irkens about letting them all leave alive if they gave Zim to the enemy. “Please, trust me. Your loyalty and connection to others is a way you exist,” he put his hand on Dib’s neck, gently pushing his head forward. “Trust me.”

Dib took a deep breath, his hands shaking as he clenched the shock staff. “Okay,” he whispered.

“You are going to be our first non-Irken Tallest,” Slat muttered. “I can see it in the way Tallest Zim looks at you, in the way you look at him.” Something cold passed over the back of Dib’s neck, a sterile scent filling the air. “And if I do not do this, then you and him will lose that before it ever even happens.” Something pressed against the skin of his neck, pointed and cold, before a sharp pain spiked down his neck and spine.

Slat held him still as his body tried to pull away. He held Dib still until he stopped twitching, then moved to crouch in front of him. “My apologies, Tallest Dib,” he glanced at the screen. “I was informed that a secondary duty of mine, beyond piloting for you, was to keep you alive at all costs. What I have installed on your spine is an atmospheric converter that will generate a personal shell. It is to be used in the case of our ship being torn apart. If you hit open space, it will turn on and keep you breathing.” Slat lifted up Dib’s left wrist, tapping the generator there. “This one is meant to surround you in a bubble. It is a good variation. The one I have installed is an option only for our Tallest.”

Staring at him, Dib nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said again. “It’s…I mean…It’s meant to keep a single person alive.” He put a hand on his own shoulder, reaching for the back of his neck. He could feel something there, just barely – a small metal plate. “This is how the Baratoth got the Tallest, before. They destroyed the armada and then just…Scooped them up out of the wreckage. They were the only ones who would have been able to survive.”

“That is the theory,” Slat nodded.

“Zim has one?”

“Now he does. Before, he would have had the other one in his Pak.”

“Good. Good.” Dib turned back to the video communication, watching as the Baratoth seemed to be speaking with someone. Based on what he could hear, it seemed to be Zim. He leaned closer, nodding with a grateful smile when Slat increased the volume.

“I am Tallest Zim!” Zim’s laughter echoed across the line. “I will not let you do what you want! Irk is my planet, Irkens my people!” he cackled as a blast lit up the sky around them. “Irk will never surrender to the likes of you!”

“We do not need your surrender, only your flesh!” the Baratoth snapped back.

If there was one thing about Zim that was predictable, Dib had learned, it was that he knew how to irritate someone into anger. Into making mistakes. There was always a way for Zim to speak. He could get people so twisted up that they started talking about their plans without even noticing. He’d once been on the debate team in high school for a month before being kicked out, pissing off every single member before he’d gone.

Zim’s greatest skill and sometimes his biggest weakness was that he could talk.

Fuck, Dib thought as he listened to Zim taunting the Baratoth into undoing the lies they had just spread to the Irkens, I really do love him. With just a few sentences, he had gotten the Baratoth angry enough to reveal that none of them would be safe, even if they handed Zim over.

“Oh, good luck with that,” Dib whispered, watching the Baratoth end the communication. “Shit, welcome to my life for the last decade.” He grinned, looking at Slat. “Get us closer, if you can?”

Slat looked at him, already back at his controls. “’If I can’, he says.” Slat threw them back into motion with practiced movements and clipped back into his harness. “How close?” he stared down at the Baratoth ship, making its way towards the ship that held Zim. “How close do you need to be to do whatever it is you’re planning, my Tallest?”

“As close as possible,” Dib stood up, clenching a hand around the railing built into the ceiling of the ship. He headed for the door. “The atmosphere thing – it’s ready to use, right?”

He was going to do something…Extremely stupid.

Slat didn’t even look up from piloting their ship. “Yes,” he answered.

“If I go out there, we’re not within an atmosphere?”

“We are not,” Slat confirmed.

“Are we on top of them yet?”

“Almost.”

“Good,” Dib moved to the door, grabbing hold of the emergency release and throwing it open. Slat had an atmosphere converter. It would keep him safe. In the time it had taken for Slat to install the personal one on Dib’s neck, explain it, and for Zim to keep the Baratoth talking, Dib had put together a couple of key pieces of information.

One: The Baratoth were using a stolen ship created by the Vortians. Zim had explained that, when imprisoned with them, he’d asked the previous Tallest how they had been captured. Something about an electrical short in the windscreen being used to manipulate the security systems into failing.

Two: He now had a shock staff.

Three: He now had an atmospheric converter that would keep him alive as the pressure of space did its best to kill him, one that would size to his body specifically and keep anyone else from being caught in the protective shell.

And, most of all, four: The Baratoth were trying to steal Zim away, distracting as many Irkens as they could so that they could murder him. Possibly torture and maim him before they did.

Dib took a deep breath, sliding the first converter he’d been given off of his wrist. He set it down, then looked outside and gauged where he was going to land. Without any warning, with Slat realizing what he was doing just a second too late, Dib took a running start out the door.

He landed with a clunk on the windscreen of the Baratoth’s main ship. Just inside, past the tinted glass, he could see the one who had been broadcasting to all of the Irken ships. Dib stood up, grinning, and planted his feet on the hull of the ship. An atmospheric converter that generated gravity so that he was kept steady – a handy sort of invention. Any other day, he would have absolutely been thrilled to know that. Would probably have asked to speak to one of the scientists about it and learn all of the specs involved.

Right now, however…

Dib raised the shock staff, taking a moment to turn it to maximum. He got a half-second to spot the panic and fear starting to rise in the Baratoth ship before he jammed the electrified end into the membrane of shielding. Like Christmas lights burning out, one by one, the ship went dark in sections.

A smaller cruiser pulled up behind him as the Baratoth ship started falling.

“Get your ass in here!” Gaz’s voice was a relief. Dib slipped into Tak’s ship as the Baratoth’s ship started plummeting towards the surface of Irk. Settled in next to her, Dib could only grin as they watched the destruction his actions had caused. “Great,” Gaz muttered. “You’re just as insane as Zim. That’s not really news, but…” she groaned as she set them into motion again. “I don’t know if you heard, but they’re planning on going after Earth.”

Dib looked at her, his hands clenching into fists around the shock staff. “What do we do about that?”

“We get our asses home and we warn people. We start with Dad.”

“He has never listened to me about aliens, Gaz.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged. “Maybe he will when we have an entire intergalactic battle following us.” Gaz slapped a button. “Zim, I’ve got my idiot brother. We’re heading for Earth, we’re going to try to cut them off.”

“Good!” Zim’s voice was a bark of sound. “You’re an idiot, Dib! Don’t ever do that again!”

Dib had learned, a long time ago, how Zim sounded when he was worried about something. Right now, his Irken was panicking. “Just trying to make things a little more even,” he laughed. “See you on Earth, Zim. Don’t…” he hesitated, trying to figure out something to say. Something that would make sense, something that would mean everything between them. “Don’t get lost, okay? I want to see you there.”

“…I won’t,” Zim’s voice went softer as he spoke that time. “And you will.”

The line clicked off.

With a sigh like she was trying to deal with the weight of the world, Gaz set a course for their home planet. “Crash course in Irken written language,” she muttered. “Training with different piloting systems, with different weapons, everything that could possibly kill me in one way or another, and my stupid idiot brother nearly gives me a heart attack by jumping out of a ship to basically taser an invading alien ship!”

“It shut down their defenses!” Dib gestured towards where they could see the wreckage on the planet below. “Zim told me that Vortian ships had a weakness. I found and exploited it.”

Gaz elbowed him in the stomach, a quiet snarl telling him to shut up before she did something worse.

Chapter Text

“…Is…” En stared out the windscreen, watching as Tak’s ship took off. “Is he insane?”

“Yes,” Zim felt a wash of warmth fall over him, practically purring with pride even as he forced himself not to panic about what his human had done. “Yes he is.” He grinned when Uryi and Nent turned to look at him with matching expressions, incredulous and more than a little horrified. Zim laughed, shaking his head. “He has always been like this. He steps into a situation with everything he has.”

“My Tallest!” Slat’s voice crackled across the communicator, strained and terrified. “I am sorry, my Tallest, I had no idea he would—”

Zim leaned forward, interrupting Slat’s apology. “Dib does what he thinks is correct,” he spoke quickly, keeping his tone even. His own body was reacting to how scared he had been to see his human falling through the air, but he needed everyone to stay calmer than he felt. “You have no control over him in a situation like this. That he figured out a way to do what he did is unsurprising.” He watched as the stolen Vortian ship hit the surface of Irk and cracked into pieces. It would not be flying again. “If he feels it will protect someone, he will take action.”

Nent kept staring at him. Once Zim had settled Slat and gotten off the line, she spoke up. “Does that include you?”

“It has always seemed to,” Zim took a deep breath, his antennae laying back. They had a moment to breathe, the other Baratoth ships further away than the main one had been. “We need to move, however. We are running short on time.” He turned to look at En, who was staring out the windscreen with a dazed expression on his face. “Blast a path through, we need to supply backup to the humans! Their home planet is also in danger.”

Uryi saluted him, turning back to the controls. After a moment, En followed. “Yes, my Tallest,” both of them echoed. Nent blinked a couple of times, then nodded and got to work.

Gir, on the floor at Zim’s side, was giggling as they flew through the oncoming Baratoth army. The reaction was immediate – it was a good thing their ship had shields. The blasts obscured their windscreen, light blocking out the outside completely. They were, however, in a Ring Cutter. If Zim had been given a choice, when he’d left Irk the first time, he might have chosen a Ring Cutter. A strong and fast ship with impressive defensive methods; a pair of prominent lasers on the front, combined with a ring of smaller ones all the way around the ship.

A Ring Cutter. Named for being able to cut a ring out of solid stone, metal, or whatever else was in the way.

Zim cackled as the Baratoth ships surrounding them started dropping, their view quickly coming back as their attackers fell. He reached for the communicator again, re-opening the video communication with the Baratoth. “We will not surrender!” he told them, grinning. “I am the leader of the Irkens, I am the Tallest Zim! If you wish to kill me, you will have to catch me!” He laughed again when the Baratoth snarled and hissed, ending the video communication just as fast as he’d started it. “All of you, as fast as we can!” he ordered, watching as Nent, Uryi, and En all nodded. “They managed to catch Purple and Red off guard because they had taken a Vortian ship! We know what their ships look like, now, we cannot be caught by that same trick,” he reached down and picked Gir up. “You know what to do, Gir.”

“Yes, master!” Gir saluted, his own laughter making Zim smile.

“Wait for my signal.”

“Yes!” Gir nodded, turning to stare intently out the windscreen. They waited as their ship’s speed picked up, heading for one of the bigger Baratoth ships. Zim studied it as they passed, standing up and moving towards the doors with Gir in his arms. The one they had picked out in the crowd earlier, before Dib had taken out the main ship, had a boarding platform on the side. It was compatible with the Ring Cutter’s own system.

Clamping into place, En turned and motioned for Zim to go.

With a soft hum of noise, Zim opened the door and set Gir down. “You remember where the engine is?” Zim asked.

“I do,” Gir nodded again. “Go inside, pull out all the plugs,” he pulled something out of his storage compartment. “And pour my juice into the workings!”

“Good,” Zim looked up, into the now-open door onto the Baratoth ship. Their ship’s systems had managed to cut off the alarm that would have alerted the Baratoth to the clamping. “Now, Gir!” He sat back and watched as Gir sprinted off, quieter than he would have once been. He was a functional companion, now, with a mind of his own and a train of thought that actually made sense to someone other than just him. Several minutes passed, Nent and En calling out changes as they occurred, before Gir came running back. The ship behind him was groaning – the ‘juice’ Gir had poured into the engines was a mixture of fuel and sugar he enjoyed. On Earth, pouring sugar into a gas tank ruined a car.

It would appear that it was the same for a Baratoth’s stolen ship.

Zim scooped Gir back up, slamming the door shut as he hurried back to his seat. With barely any time to spare, they were disconnected from the Baratoth ship as the engines blew. Uryi looked at Zim, his eyes wide, and stuttered for a moment. “What did you learn on Earth?” he asked after he managed to find his voice. “The Baratoth are something to be feared and now we’ve witnessed two of their ships being taken down!”

“I learned to win, whatever it took,” Zim answered, still holding Gir. “Dib is human. I spent years among humans. Along with their enduring loyalty and care for each other, there was also this: They refuse to lose a battle if losing means that the people they care about will get hurt. There are battle tactics I learned there, methods and tools I thought to use.” He looked at Gir, who smiled. “I admit, perhaps, that I picked up more of their connecting to others than I thought I had.” Zim looked back at Uryi. “Nothing is impossible. That is something that was always pushed at me by Dib. He…” trailing off, Zim leaned back in his seat. “He showed me something different. I did not realize I had taken it in as a lesson until now.”

“What was it?” Nent asked, her antennae laid back.

En spoke up as well, “How did he show you?”

“Never giving up, even when the odds seem against you. He never did. It is something he has always…” Zim blinked. “Even when the world is against you, you never give up. Find another way around the problem, even if others think you are insane for the method you choose.” He smiled, shaking his head. “Let’s go destroy more of the Baratoth on our way to protect Earth.”

“Yes sir!” the three of them perked up.

When they broke through the Baratoth and aimed for Earth, Zim almost wanted to scream.

This was what they had always feared. The force currently invading their home world was the stuff of nightmares and always had been. The Baratoth were terrifying, unyielding – but Purple and Red had always assured that they had beaten the Baratoth back. They were the ones claiming credit for keeping the nightmare at bay. The Baratoth were monsters, after all, and Irkens should be happy that their leaders were so good at keeping those monsters away!

And now, he could see the truth of it all.

The Baratoth were terrifying, yes.

But only if they caught an Irken on their own. Or in small groups. With all of the available Irken forces mobilized, the Baratoth were making very little progress towards Irk. In human terms, they were bullies who waited until they could get victims on their own. Without that power imbalance, the Baratoth had nothing. If an Irken was chased into their chiton trap on their own or even in a pair, they were doomed. Too slick to climb out of, too small to escape on their own, Irkens had died to the Baratoth that way since the beginning.

Out here, Zim realized, the Baratoth had nothing.

Stolen ships and that was about it. The Irken race fighting back as a whole instead of going out one or two at a time –

He stopped breathing for a moment.

The whole system of Invaders. It put Irkens out, in small amounts and seemingly at random, on their own. Tallest Miyuki had thought up the plans, originally, to send out Invaders on their own. Purple and Red had been the ones to put it into place. They had been the ones to start putting together missions to take over worlds with one Invader at a time.

Feeling sick, Zim put a hand to his mouth. Had they intended for that to happen?

For Invaders to be sacrifices to the Baratoth in exchange for peace on Irk?

After all, they had taken deeds from Invaders they didn’t like and given them to others. They had been selfish and uncaring about anyone that followed them. Skoodge alone had several stories of them ignoring his achievements and giving credit for them to others. How many others would have similar stories if Zim asked? How many others had died before they could bring those stories back?

How many of his people had been given as sacrifices so that the previous Tallest could feel safe?

“My Tallest?” Nent was crouched in front of him, her eyes wide. “We have reached a safe space to put into hyperdrive. You asked us to inform you when we arrived.” She stood up when she realized his attention was on her. En had been crouched next to her, his claws clenched in the fabric of his tunic. Nent went back to her controls, gesturing out the windscreen. “Our course is set for Earth, Tallest.”

“Go,” Zim nodded. “We need to go. Get us there.”

En stayed where he was, his antennae laid back. “You were muttering something, my Tallest. About…” he hesitated. “About Tallest Purple and Red.”

“They did something,” Zim kept his voice quiet, his entire body shaking. “I think they did, anyway. Something…Awful. Something that led to this situation in the first place.” He closed his eyes, curling his arm tighter around Gir. “The Baratoth fall when an organized resistance is given. They do not expect us to fight back as a whole force. If we tried to do this on our own, they would win.” He clenched his jaw, shaking his head. When he opened his eyes again, Zim met En’s gaze. “They were expecting us to be scared and separated into smaller groups. That has always been how it goes. Now we have our attack on them, followed up by the rest of our fighting forces at our back.”

“…Earth does not have those same fighting forces,” En blinked, then threw himself back towards his seat. “Which is why we are going there?”

“Precisely,” Zim sighed, still hugging Gir tightly. “If they cannot take Irk, they will go to the next vulnerable target.”

“We are due to arrive in minutes, Tallest Zim,” Uryi updated quickly. “Scanning for other ships seems to indicate that there may be another wave of Baratoth waiting near the planet. If we blast a pulse of our lasers at them upon arrival, we will be able to delay their attack long enough for more of our ships to arrive.”

With a shaky smile, Zim nodded. “Good. Do it.”

He would not lose Earth. He would not lose Dib. The Baratoth were nightmares, but they were ones that could be beaten. Strategy and working together would be necessary, but they could do that.

Zim stared out the windscreen as hyperdrive began to slow down, repeating that to himself.

They could do this.

He would not lose Earth.

He would not lose Dib.

Chapter Text

Returning home felt like stepping inside during the winter – warm and safe and familiar.

Dib lurched forward in his seat as he watched familiar stars and planets appear around them, naming each one silently as Gaz kept them flying in a steady line towards home. “I’ll call Dad when we get into range,” he told her, already pulling out his phone. No signal in space, not yet – Zim had mentioned wanting to make it so that it was possible, somehow. He’d spoken specifically about that to his scientists and engineers. Make it so that the two ends of the universe could talk to each other someday, he’d asked.

They had promised to look into it.

Dib’s heart sped up as he thought about it, about the way Zim had looked at him, a small smile on his face as he spoke, when he’d asked them to do so.

“You are such a useless gay,” Gaz muttered. “Quit thinking about your boyfriend and make sure you keep an eye on the phone signal!” she swore quietly as she wrenched the controls sideways, then – “Shit!”

“What was that?!”

“That was them having left some ships here!” Gaz leaned into the controls, narrowing her eyes as she pushed the ship harder, faster. She was ruthless behind the wheel of an Irken ship – Dib could see why they had been impressed and terrified of her while training her to fly and fight. She took to it without a missed step or a skipped beat. Her hand-eye coordination was better than most people anyway and her reaction time was well-honed from the games she’d played over the years. Giving her something that flew and had weapons on it was probably a bad idea, but she did really well with it.

Pressing himself into the back of his seat, Dib silently reached for the handle of the door, holding onto it to give him some way of anchoring himself.

“Hold on tighter, this is about to get messy!” Gaz warned, barely even looking at him as she sent the ship into a spiral to avoid a blast. It just barely clipped them, flashing across their windscreen for a moment before fading. Other shots followed, lighting up the space around them. With barely a change in expression, Gaz wove between them, eventually sending the ship into a nosedive as she aimed for Earth. “They should be following us at any moment, but we need to make it until then!”

“Got it, got it!” Dib nodded, struggling to keep his arm steady enough to be able to read the screen of his phone.

It felt like an eternity later when he got a full signal bar, his thumb shaking as he tapped the ‘dial’ option on his dad’s number. “Please pick up, for once, please pick up!” Dib hissed, a couple of shots connecting on the tail of their ship.

“Professor Membrane—”

“Dad!” Dib spat the word out, hurrying to catch his attention. “Dad, please, please, let this actually be you!”

“…Dib?” He heard the pause, felt it, and almost started crying at the fact that his dad had actually answered his personal number immediately. He would always get back to them if they left a message but getting him to pick up on the first call was a rare thing. “Aren’t you and your sister staying with a friend?”

“We sort of went into space – please, just listen to me, don’t say anything yet – and now we’re dealing with an alien army on our trail. We’re heading for home, we’ve got backup coming, but we need to make sure we’re not about to bring an invading alien species onto our own planet.” Dib rushed through the words, feeling his entire body shaking as Gaz kept them moving. They couldn’t touch down until they had backup from the Irkens. Not without risking their entire planet. “And we need your help, dad, please. Please. I’m not crazy, I’m not making it up, this is real, and they’re going to try and shoot us down!”

“Son,” he heard his dad’s breath catch. “Dib.” The pause was enough to make him choke, his eyes burning as he felt like crying.

He would never have expected the words that followed in a million years:

“I believe you.”

“What?” Dib stared out the windscreen, his eyes wide as he tried to keep his breathing controlled. “Dad, you actually—”

“There was a message,” his dad continued. Now that he was actually listening, he could hear the tiny things that meant his dad was panicking. The way his footsteps were pacing. His breathing was tight and carefully controlled. The way his voice wavered at the edges. “A video message. Meant for the whole world, broadcast across the globe. Every single television station, every single radio station – anything that can pick up and play a broadcasted frequency received the same message.” He went silent for a moment. When he spoke again, he sounded close to tears. “Dib, I had thought you and your sister were safe, on our planet. Is Gaz alright? Are you?”

“We’re fine, Dad,” Dib felt tears running down his cheeks. “We’re safe, I swear. When we land, we’ve got two types of aliens to deal with – the green ones with antennae are on our side. The ones with beetle shells are the ones we’re trying to stop.”

“Do you know how many there are?”

Dib turned to look at Gaz, who glanced back at him for a moment. He smiled at her, nodding. “There’s about twenty ships that we’re currently running away from.”

“You are actively in a danger zone?” His dad’s voice shot up a few notes, the words nearly a squeak of sound at the end. “Dibert Membrane, what are you doing?!” he paused, taking a slow, deep breath to calm himself down again. He probably had the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. “Put me on speakerphone.”

Hitting the button for that only took a second. “Hey Dad,” Gaz tossed out, jerking the controls sideways and putting them into another spin. “Where are you right now?”

“Gazlene Membrane!”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Gaz slammed back in her seat as she sent them spiraling upward again, uncaring as Dib yelped and did his best to hold himself in place, the phone still between them. “A little busy here, where are you?”

“At the lab,” their dad sounded a little like he was going to be sick, his worry the most obvious it had ever been. “The two of you and I are going to need to have a serious conversation when things settle down!” Another pause, a cleared throat, and when he spoke again it was much more composed. “What do you need? What can I do?” he hesitated. “…Is there anything I can do?”

“Get us a landing pad!” Dib called out as the chaos outside became louder – the Baratoth had entered the atmosphere instead of taking shots at them from space.

On a screen in front of him, he could see where the Irken ships were coming closer. The Baratoth ships were unrecognized by the Irken systems, blank holes in the scanner’s map, dark shapes with no names. It added to how the Baratoth were nightmares, Dib realized. Ships that looked like allies, like those on the other side of trade treaties, with the probable assumption that a system was malfunctioning. The ship he knew had to be Zim’s was there, speeding across the scanner as fast as it could go.

“The roof of the lab!” their dad shouted out, probably having been repeating himself. “Dib, Gaz, please, tell me you are alright!”

“We’re alive, call that good enough for now!” Gaz snarled, sending them into another roll. “Clear the roof, we’re going to have a hell of a time landing!”

“It will be cleared, just get there safely, please,” he sounded scared, Dib realized. He’d always been so focused on his job, so focused on his research and experiments, that he’d always been detached from anything else. They knew he loved them, he really did, but getting him to show it had always been a struggle. Right now, it seemed, his undivided attention was on making sure they’d get home again. The only thing he could do was talk to them. “Please, the two of you, I can’t…I can’t lose you. I cannot lose you. Not you two, not you too. The entirety of my base of knowledge has been shaken today and if the two of you…If the two of you…” his breath was shaky.

Dib felt tears rolling down his cheeks. When he glanced at Gaz, she was scrubbing her cheek against her shoulder, her knuckles white as she kept her hands on the controls. “We’re going to be okay,” Dib answered. “We’ll be there soon.”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me,” the words came out as a sort of sob, followed by more footsteps. They started as pacing, then picked up speed as their dad started running. “Keep this call running, do you understand?” Dib could hear as he shouted orders. When their dad had something to do, he knew a path forward. As long as he understood what was happening, and what he could do about it, he knew what to do next. “Until you are next to me, once more, this phone stays on the line!”

“Yeah, got it!” Gaz snapped back, spinning around and sending a shot back towards the ship directly behind them.

Dib watched as parts of the city beneath them became familiar.

The old school – where Gir had been found in pieces, on the playground – was there and gone again almost faster than he could blink. Their house, where Zim’s base had once been, the museum, the hospital. Places they’d grown up seeing and going and riding past. Home stood in one piece beneath them.

Just ahead, Dib realized, was their dad’s lab. He nodded towards it when Gaz glanced at him. Both of them settled in their seats, holding on tight as she pushed the ship a little harder. At the very top of the building, there was a helicopter pad. Usually, it was reserved for visiting board members, for the people funding the great Professor Membrane’s research, for those few experiments shared between laboratories that needed to be flown in. Right now, however, it was cleared of equipment and people.

Standing at the door to the roof, one hand held to his head, fingers clenched around a phone, was their dad.

With a small sigh of relief, Gaz moved them around until they had touched down safely.

“That is your transport…Yes?” their dad’s voice came across the call, hesitating. When Gaz took her hands off the controls, she was shaking. She curled her hands to her chest, took a deep breath, and then did something Dib hadn’t seen her do since she was a baby.

Gaz burst into tears.

“Gaz?” the panic was back. “Gaz, talk to me. What’s going on? Is this you? Do you need me to do something?”

“I think it’s an adrenal drop,” Dib spoke up. “We’ll be out in just a second, Dad.” He kept the phone call going, setting the phone on the flat panel of the ship’s controls, then turned and offered a hug to his sister. For once, for what felt like the first time since she was tiny, Gaz leaned into him and held onto him. When he started a slow breathing pattern, she followed. “C’mon, Gaz, let’s go see Dad.”

She nodded, staying in place for another minute. When she did move again, everything about her was still shaky. Gaz pressed a button to open the ship’s hatch, clambering out with stiff movements, moving to the side to let Dib get out as well.

A glance at the sky behind them showed that there were Irken ships intercepting the Baratoth ones that had been chasing them.

Their dad was standing closer when Dib turned to look, hesitating just out of arm’s reach. “Hey Dad,” Dib rubbed at his arm, shrugging. “So, we kind of found a situation.”

Gaz rubbed at her face, nodding. “Kind of sucked,” she muttered. She was still crying.

With a small huff of breath, their dad nodded. He gathered them both close, a hand on each of their heads. “The two of you are safe,” he muttered. “That is the important thing at the moment, for me.” He was shaking too, Dib realized. All three of them were. With a soft, startled noise, their dad’s knees gave out, sending all three of them to the pavement. “You’re safe and you made it back home,” he squeezed them closer, shaking his head. “What needs to happen with the invading force?”

“With luck,” Dib cleared his throat. “They’re being taken care of. The ones on our side were following us.”

“And considering one of them is in love with Dib, I don’t think any threat to him, or his planet is going to survive,” Gaz still sounded teary, but she was laughing. She had her arms wrapped around both of them. “Zim’s a weirdo, but he’s going to protect Dib. Even when they fought all the time, he always did. No one and nothing else was allowed to hurt him.”

“…Your little green friend,” their dad pulled back, sitting on his heels. “He actually…Was an alien. All this time.”

“Yeah,” Dib nodded. “Please don’t report him to any form of government.”

With a slow sigh and a couple of seconds of blinking, he nodded. “I don’t think it would be wise to do so to someone who is helping save our planet and our lives.”

“Good, because Dib is in love with him, too,” Gaz was still laughing, even as she wiped tears away.

“I knew that already,” he kissed the top of Gaz’s head, then tucked Dib’s head under his chin for a moment. “It was obvious from the first time he spoke about the new boy in his class.” He held onto both of them, kept them close, as he watched the skies above them.

“…Dad?” Dib frowned, looking around.

“Yes?”

“Where’s your phone?”

“…I may have thrown it off the building when I saw the two of you exiting your ship,” Professor Membrane, as a person, seemed to be pulling himself back together. When his dad looked around, Dib could see the edges of him still – the worried father combined with the public persona the world knew. “I can get another one.”

Dib leaned into him again, laughing. With Gaz joining him, the air felt lighter than the terrifying race through space had made it. The weight of their journey lifted.

They were home.

They were safe.

If Zim was as successful as they had been, then everything was going to be okay.

Chapter Text

Zim watched as the Baratoth’s ships fell apart around him.

He wasn’t alone in this fight, not this time. He had soldiers at his side, pilots following his commands. They had listened to his orders and, it seemed, were the victors. Zim stared out the windscreen of his ship, clutching Gir close to his leg as his small crew settled them into a landing on a relatively clear space. They had followed the signal of Tak’s ship, the ship Dib and Gaz were riding in, ending up in the parking lot at the base of the building.

There were bits of rubble, debris floating down from the atmosphere, but everything was almost eerily quiet.

“…My Tallest?” Uryi spoke first, staring out the window with him. His antennae twitch, laying flat against his head. “Is…Is this planet safe for us?” His claws were still clenched around the controls, prepared to defend at a moment's notice. He glanced at En, who picked up his shock spear and stood up, moving towards the door. “This seems unwise.”

“I have lived on this planet for over a decade,” Zim couldn’t help the smile at those words. “It is safe for us.”

He stood up, lifting Gir into his arms as he moved to the door. Standing behind En, Zim waited patiently for him to open the door. He could see three humans approaching – two of them he knew very well, one of them only in passing. “Gir, I need my arms free,” he hummed. Gir cackled and moved to cling to the back of his neck, legs wiggling in the air. The moment En had the door open, Zim slipped past him and out into the open air.

They both stopped.

Dib looked at him. Zim stared back.

The sky filled with dust and ash, the Baratoth either dying, defeated, or fleeing. The rest of the new armada dealt with them easily, following his orders.

Dib moved first.

With a small noise, he rushed forward and pulled Zim into his arms. Zim clung to him, claws curling into the fabric of his coat – he had been so sure, despite what he’d told his people, that Dib might have died in the battle. That his stupid human had chosen to fall onto a Baratoth ship and separate out and away from his guard to pull off a risky maneuver that got him killed. His antennae laying flat, Zim stuffed his face against Dib’s shoulder, hissing angrily for a moment. “Do not ever do that to Zim again, Dibstink,” he snarled quietly.

“I’ll try not to,” Dib whispered, his arms wrapped around Zim, a solid warmth around his entire body. “It needed to be done, though.”

“It sent a message,” Zim agreed. “I do not like that it was you sending that message, but it sent the right message.” He stepped back, still holding onto Dib like a lifeline. Something was different, something – he touched a claw to the back of his human’s neck. “A shield?”

“Slat installed it. He wanted to make sure I didn’t just have the one someone could hitch a ride inside of,” Dib grinned. “Apparently it’s something meant exclusively for the leaders of your people?”

Zim bared his teeth, his cheeks burning. “Yes, yes, you are important. This is not something we need to discuss.” He looked at Gaz, who seemed to be clinging to the human Dib resembled. “You did well,” Zim watched as she took a deep breath, nodding. Her eyes slipped closed, her hands clenching and unclenching. Professor Membrane took a step closer to her, a hand wrapped around her shoulder. “Your daughter led the charge into battle, saved her brother’s life, possibly saved mine.”

“I am still having trouble with aliens as a real concept,” Professor Membrane nodded slowly. “But yes, I am very proud of her.”

“Good,” Zim looked at Dib again, still clinging to him.

They all had people they wanted to hold onto right now. Different reasons, certainly, but clinging, nonetheless. Gir peered over Zim’s shoulder, humming softly as he stared at everyone around them. “Awww,” he cooed. “Lookit that! It’s sweet!”

Dib snorted.

With a soft groan, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Zim’s. “This whole month has been so long.”

“Yes,” Zim leaned into him. “And we still need to talk.”

“Your base is still set up at our house,” Dib shrugged. “If I can get a ride there, we can go talk.” He looked at Uryi and Nent, who both immediately snapped to, standing up straight and saluting. “Would that be okay? He still has a base here. We need to work some details out. And, I mean,” he looked at his dad, at Gaz, smiling when Gaz snorted. “I think we just need some time together anyway.”

Professor Membrane nodded. “By all means,” he gestured in what Zim was pretty sure was the direction of his home. “Take as long as you need. However, Dib, we will need to discuss some things when you’ve worked out your issues with your boyfriend.”

“He’s not exactly my boyfriend, dad.” Dib grinned and Zim dragged him closer, claws almost piercing through the fabric of his clothes. “But I have a feeling that’s part of what we’re talking about.”

“Whatever it is you talk about, we need to have a talk afterwards, as a family.” Professor Membrane curled Gaz into his side, rubbing her shoulder. Zim watched as she clung to him – she would not be any less terrifying and awe-inspiring to the Irken people because of the soft moments they might witness. They would view her as an impossible being, terrifying and capable of separating out two mindsets without hesitation or struggle. “If you and…Zim, was it?” he waited as Dib and Zim both nodded. “If the two of you would like a ride home, I can arrange that. I think, after the day we’ve all had, that going home again is sorely needed.”

Zim nodded, again. “If we can be given privacy…”

“Of course,” Professor Membrane assured. “I saw the structure behind my home, though I had figured that it belonged to my son. I have not intruded on it.”

“That is very good, then,” Zim reached down and took Dib’s hand in his, pulling him along. The group of them headed into the building, staying close together as they moved. Gaz and Professor Membrane walked next to Dib, Dib kept Zim close, and Zim’s flight crew followed along, eventually settling into a guard position.

They had seen him through the battle and had given him support.

And, of course, one of them was sending a message to Slat. The poor Pilot was likely still panicking in the outer atmosphere of Earth, following the signal of the shield he’d installed. He’d been the closest when Dib had jumped from his ship, been unable to stop the human as he thought through a situation and chose the dangerous option.

They settled in the lobby of the building, the group of them clustering together on a pair of couches and a couple of chairs.

Before he could overthink anything, Zim shoved Dib into one of the chairs. With a hiss of laughter, Zim sat across his lap, resting his spine against the arm on one side, his legs over the other. After a moment of staring, Dib laid his arm over Zim’s lap, his hand dangling loosely off the side of his hip. The other hand was on the arm of the chair behind Zim, supporting the bottom curve of his Pak.

Without realizing it, without question, he’d gone to protect one of the most vital parts of Zim.

They sat there until a car came by, large enough to fit all of them.

Down in his base, rebuilt and back in the ground, Zim watched as Dib took everything in.

It was a first for them both – Dib being allowed into Zim’s home without being chased off. Without any sort of rivalry or animosity between them. Without pretending to hate each other and pushing each other away. Dib had seen some of it, over the years, sneaking through and attempting to prove that Zim was an alien.

But that was different than getting to see it all without any sort of rush.

“This is pretty impressive,” Dib smiled, looking up to watch the workings on the ceiling. Zim couldn’t stop the heat in his face, the way his antennae twitched at the words. “I mean…I know you said you got less than the best equipment, but this is still amazing.”

“Even with lesser equipment, I can still create amazing things!” Zim snorted. “I am the amazing Zim! Of course I can.”

He stepped into Dib’s path, his claws coming to rest on the human’s chest.

Dib was warm.

“We need to figure out how this is going to work,” Dib frowned. “I mean…If we want it to work.” He looked down at Zim’s hands, then back up. “Between us, I mean. You’re going to be an alien ruler on a different world, and I think they’re going to need you for a while. Present and on-planet, I mean. You’re going to have to undo a lot of things that were done and have been that way for practically forever.”

“I have theories,” Zim shrugged. “And some plans. Little things. Things I will need help with.”

“Like what?”

“You keep my base operating and maintained while I am gone,” Zim sighed when Dib’s hands rubbed carefully at his back. He was still recovering, even if he wasn’t wounded anymore. The pressure and warmth felt good. “You can contact me through it – though I will be sending upgrades for some things, now that I can.”

There was a pause, then a smile. “I can do that, yeah. You’ll have to teach me some stuff because,” he shrugged. “I don’t know how to work with everything here.”

Zim watched him, watched the way his eyes darkened. “Dibstink,” he hissed the name, prodding his chest. “Do you think you are anything less than great? Even now, having taken a Baratoth ship down on your own? Having managed something that a great deal many Irkens have died attempting?” He dragged the human closer, shoving him down on the ground and straddling his lap. Zim pressed into him, claws practically digging into Dib’s back. “Admit it,” he half-snarled out. “Admit you are as great as the mighty Zim.”

Another smile, this one actually the way it was supposed to be. Dib’s face was pink. “I’m as great as you are,” Dib laughed.

“Again,” Zim pushed him, laying him down and leaning over him.

“I’m just as great as you are,” Dib lifted his chin, his eyes bright. Zim grinned, his teeth on display as he watched his human flush redder. They had been so alike – it was a part of why they had slipped into working together so easily. Dib losing himself to doubt was not something Zim would let happen.

“Just because you need to learn something does not mean you are less than anyone,” Zim leaned back, letting up pressure so Dib could sit up a little. “And I can teach you how to make calls to Irk from here.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever want to let that call end,” Dib sighed. “Not if you’re on the other end.”

Zim felt his organs pulsing, his squeedily spooch twisting on itself as his antennae flicked up, then fell to the sides. “We can make this work,” he forced himself to speak, his claws clenching and unclenching in the fabric of Dib’s shirt. “In whatever way it needs to be done.”

“I’ll live with you on Irk if I need to,” Dib murmured, cupping Zim’s face in his hands. “I’ll come back to visit Earth every few months if necessary.”

He pulled Zim down, pressing careful kisses to the skin of his face. Soft ones, closed-mouthed, so his saliva wouldn’t burn Zim’s skin. “We made it through,” he whispered. “We made it through, we’re alive.”

Zim leaned into his neck, rubbing along his shoulder. With a carefully calculated motion, he bit Dib’s shoulder, just hard enough to leave a mark. “Mine,” he muttered.

“I don’t think there’s anyone who would challenge that or doubt it,” Dib laughed.

There was still more to discuss, more to worry about, but they deserved a break.

Chapter Text

Two years later:

Today was the day.

Dib hurried along, shoving things into his bag as Gaz shouted from the door. After everything that had happened, a world finally aware of aliens, and there had been a massive number of changes. ‘First Contact’ had been had, finally, and Dib’s dad had been the one in charge of it once everything had sort of settled. He’d been kept on Earth since they had returned, frustratingly – turned out government agencies didn’t like humans exiting the planet – but today was the day.

Zim was coming back to Earth.

With a yelp and a quick move to save himself, Dib just barely managed not to slip off the bottom of the stairs, shoving his feet into his shoes and dragging them completely on as he shuffled out the door. Gaz even held it open for him, long enough to get outside. With a nod, Dib thanked her, taking the breakfast his father’s assistant handed him.

The two of them slid into the car waiting in the driveway.

With rising nerves, Dib stared out the window as their car rolled towards the meeting site. The Irkens were coming back to Earth, announcing themselves to the humans and offering an official peace treaty. He and Zim had been talking about it for months, ever since the official announcement had been made and Zim had spoken with several world leaders.

There were reporters everywhere.

Crowds of people, too, hundreds of thousands of people who were hoping to get a live glimpse of what was happening.

It wasn’t every day, after all, that aliens came to Earth.

That thought was enough to break down some of Dib’s nervousness, making him giggle. Zim had been a part of Dib’s everyday life for over a decade. An alien, constantly among them. Several of their old classmates had contacted him, apologizing and begging to meet with him.

Strangely, he hadn’t actually felt the need to meet up with any of them.

When the car pulled to a stop, Dib took a few more deep breaths. Gaz reached over and punched his shoulder, quick and sharp, before smiling at him. “You’re going to be great at this,” she muttered. “Because this is what you do. You talk. Plus, it’s your boyfriend. You talk to him more than anyone. And about him more than anything.”

Dib laughed again, smiling back at his sister. “Thanks, Gaz.”

The two of them left the car, moving to the holding pen where they were supposed to wait. Once the Irken delegation showed up, he was supposed to move to the stage.

Zim hadn’t been told that Dib was the one he would be creating the treaty with.

Standing next to his sister, Dib watched as their dad spoke to the crowd. He was calm and steady, just as steady as Dib wished he could be. He tuned out most of the speech, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his fingertips. He hadn’t been able to see Zim in-person for two years. He hadn’t been able to touch him, feel him, hold him close.

When Zim moved up the stairs on the other side of the stage, Dib felt like he might faint.

Professor Membrane greeted him first, bowing his head, then handed him a microphone. Zim took a minute to figure out how to clip it to the cowl-neck of his outfit, then turned to the crowd before him.

He hadn’t seen Dib, yet.

“I am the Tallest of the mighty Irken race,” Zim seemed to take a deep breath. “And I come offering a peace treaty. I have been told there is someone I am supposed to speak to.”

Dib almost wanted to laugh, but nodded instead. “A deal made, between Earth and Irk?” He raised his voice, straining to be heard over the crowd around them. He walked up the stairs, approaching Zim with a smile, his hands clasped together in front of him.

Zim’s eyes widened, his claws clenching into the little motions that Dib knew meant he wanted to hold something. “Dib?”

“I am Dib Membrane,” Dib took his own microphone, clipping it to his lapel. “I am a representative of the human race. I am here to accept a peace treaty between our people.” He stepped forward, feeling his cheeks burning as he studied Zim. His Irken had spent two years training, it seemed. There was a little more muscle definition in his arms, enough to be seen through his clothing, and he stood up straighter. His outfit had been changed again – the cowl-necked tunic of the Elite had been altered into something for the Tallest of the Irken race, it seemed.

He looked good.

“With the blessings of my people,” Dib pulled something out of his bag, holding it up for Zim to see. “I bring a token of our lives together.”

Two years spent physically apart, but never alone.

Dib had demanded answers about how Irkens courted, if they did such a thing. He had gotten researchers to work with him, historians to look through countless journals and books, and he had finally gotten the answers he’d been looking for. The object he held was a small thing, a palm-sized engine that served only to rotate rings with Irken writing on them.

But the writing was the important part.

Significant dates and events. Fights they had been in together. Days that meant the most to the two of them.

From what he’d been told, it was basically an Irken marriage proposal.

From the expression on Zim’s face, he knew that.

His microphone picking up his suddenly heavy breathing, Zim looked from the object in Dib’s hand to his face, eyes wide. “Dib?”

“Yeah,” Dib nodded. “I know what it means.”

Nent and Slat were behind him, both of them looking shocked, though pleased. The crowd around them had hushed, everyone watching with curiosity and very little understanding. “For the sake of the people I care for, for their involvement in ending a war, and for their safety and happiness,” Zim spoke, still unable to look away from Dib. “I am offering a peace treaty in all good faith.”

“We accept, in all good faith,” Dib grinned. “And we offer one in return.”

Zim huffed, sudden and heavy, like he’d forgotten to breathe. He turned and gestured at Slat, grabbing uselessly at the air until the Pilot reached into a pocket and pulled something out. He handed it over to Zim, who clutched it tightly in his claws and turned back to Dib. “A token of our lives together,” he held it out, laying it flat in his palm.

A silver ring.

Dib stared at it, his cheeks burning hotter as he looked back up to Zim.

He offered the small device he’d built to Zim, who took it as he slid the ring onto Dib’s finger. “There are traditions to follow,” Zim murmured, keeping his voice quiet enough that their mics wouldn’t pick it up. “Yes?”

A shiver shot down Dib’s spine. “Yeah,” he whispered back. “I can show you those later.”

Zim took a step back, still holding Dib’s hand. “As we are connected, so are our people.” He held up Dib’s hand, both of them facing the crowd. “With exchanged tokens, it is known that we are allies!”

“They have the coordinates for our house?” Dib whispered when Zim stepped back, pulling his microphone off.

“As if I would let them forget,” Zim cackled.

Every time he touched Dib’s skin, it felt like he would burn. He wanted to be able to touch him and not stop, not be interrupted by anyone.

“Good job getting engaged, dumbass,” Gaz muttered as Dib moved back down the stairs to stand at her side again. “Glad it worked out. I had to help him figure out what size you needed for a ring – I think it’s made out of some fancy space metal.” She rolled her eyes when Dib leaned his head against her shoulder. “Okay, get off me. That’s enough.”

“I have no idea how a marriage is going to work out, legally,” Dib shrugged. “But this is good enough for me.”

There were still other speeches they had to sit through, more of their father addressing the crowd, but he couldn’t wait to get home again.

Life with Zim was bound to be a little insane, but the stars were always brighter when they were together.