Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The regular din of conversation in the lab fell to silence, but Dib wouldn’t have known through the music blaring into his antennae. By the time he realized he was in the presence of royalty, it was too late. His manager, Gragh, pulled at his sleeve to get his attention. For being so tall, Dib was relatively low on the totem pole. He looked down at his manager, then followed his gaze up to the two figures who blotted out the light from above. The earbuds fell off his antenna and clattered to the floor, breaking the tense silence.

“Glad you could finally join the conversation, scientist drone.” Red, the more serious of his two leaders, spoke first. His normally large crimson eyes were narrowed to slits. “Gragh,” he addressed the diminutive figure next to Dib, “You should teach your employees more respect.”

“We’ll discuss that later,” Purple, the ‘good cop’ to Red’s ‘bad cop’, placed a thin hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Scientist drone,” Purple turned finally to Dib, who finally saluted, his face burning. “We’re sending you on a retrieval mission. To Earth.”

The crowd of Irkens who were surreptitiously eavesdropping on the conversation audibly gasped. Red sent a glare in their direction and they dispersed. “Earth?” Dib cocked his head, “Where’s that?”

“We have the directions programmed into the nav on your cruiser. This is an issue of utmost importance, what we need you to retrieve is essentially a ticking time bomb.”

“A bomb?” Dib blinked. “Shouldn’t this mission be assigned to someone more like an invader? Or… some sort of special task force?”

They’re not replacable, the unspoken words hung in the air. “They’re… busy. Everyone is busy at the moment. Gragh said you’ve been plateauing in terms of scientific discoveries. Not a good look for one of our top minds, is it?” Red waved a hand dismissively. “You’d do well to get out of the lab for a bit.”

Earth… the name of the planet pinged some sort of vague memory in his head. He couldn’t for the life of him place it, though. “—And try to avoid him as much as you possibly can. If you value your sanity and your life.” Dib was pulled back to reality by the tail end of Purple’s closing comment.

The Tallest were walking away when Dib called out after them. “Him?!” Dib chased the two down. By the time he caught up, the two had stopped and turned. He shrunk back under their gazes. “Sorry, my Tallest.” He gave a quick bow, “But who… is ‘he’? Who am I looking out for?”

“Zim.”

Chapter Text

The beep of an alarm interrupted Zim’s half sleep. For weeks now, he’d been groggier than usual. He chalked it up to Gir’s new habit of staying up late to play video games. Zim glanced at his alarm clock. Almost noon. He’d already missed his first class of the day, and judging by the sound of the TV leaking through the floorboards, Gir had skipped school today.

Zim dragged himself out of bed, pulling a hoodie on and not bothering to change out of his pajama pants. Who honestly cares about how you look in college? Professors barely care if you show up. Slinging his backpack on, Zim left the room. Immediately the stench of day-old pizza and the blaring TV overloaded his senses. Was it depressing that he was used to it at this point?

“Gir!” Zim had to shout over the TV, descending the stairs to see his little brother asleep on the gaudy pink couch. There was a stack of pizza boxes to one side of the high-schooler and a controller by his hand, shiny with grease stains. How the kid could sleep with the noise coming from the TV was anybody’s guess. “Gir, wake up.” Zim went up to the kid, poking him with a stick he’d kept around specifically for this purpose. No way was he touching anything anywhere near Gir.

“Hwah-?” Gir slowly blinked awake, his blue eyes narrowing as Zim came into focus. “Whassup?”

“You missed school. Again.”

“Hmm?” Gir’s voice was naturally high-pitched. It was like the kid never hit puberty. “Oh. Sorry.”

“I don’t care,” Zim lied, he’d honestly love to get rid of the kid for a few hours... at least. “But you’d better have this cleaned up by the time I come home.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Gir gave a lazy salute and grabbed his greasy game controller.

“Completely disgusting...” Zim muttered, turning away from his little brother and toward the kitchen. He popped a coffee pod into his Keurig, which automatically started brewing, thanks to the modifications he’d made to the machine. While his coffee brewed, Zim grabbed some bread to toast. It was while he was digging through the refrigerator to find the jelly that the first knock reverberated through the house. He could even hear it over the TV.

“There’s someone at the door,” Gir called from the living room.

“I figured,” Zim huffed, extracting himself from the refrigerator and trekking through the piles of muck that littered the living room floor. “Probably a school official. Or a policeman, here to do a welfare check on a certain lazy bum I know.”

Gir either didn’t hear him over his game, or didn’t care to respond. Zim groaned in annoyance and opened the door right as the knocking started up again.

“Hello?” Zim raised an eyebrow. A tall, sharply dressed man stared down at him.

“Yes I, uh, I’m looking for a ‘Zim Smith’?” His voice sounded weird, like the automatically generated voices that narrate those ‘TikToks’ that Gir liked so much.

“Present.” A small voice in Zim’s head told him this man was not to be trusted. He slowly began to shut the door. The last thing he needed was another visit from CPS on account of Gir’s habitual absences.

“I’m with the state government. I’m here to inspect your basement.” The man looked just as confused with the words he was saying as Zim was to hear them. This had to be some sort of prank.

“What department?” Zim questioned, “Can I see your badge?” The opening in the door was now only barely enough for him to squeeze out. “Do you have a warrant?” he added hastily.

“This is a regular routine inspection of your basement. I’m checking the pipes?” His words sounded like a question. “Please let me in. I have a lot of... basements. To inspect. Today.”

If this was a prank, it was a rather weak execution. Zim went to close the door, but a hand reached in the crack before he could. All of a sudden, the man was forcing himself into the house, Zim was thrown to the floor as the man entered the house. “Sorry, Zim.” the man said, something in his voice felt more genuine, less robotic than before. “This is important.”

“Important?” Zim muttered, picking himself up off the floor. The man had walked past him like he was an insignificant bug. He didn’t even spare a glance at Gir. “I’ll show you what’s important,” with a jolt of energy that he summoned from the very depths of himself, Zim lunged at the stranger. The force sent both of them toppling to the floor. Zim grabbed the closest thing to him, the TV remote. Trying to ignore the sliminess of the greasy film that coated it, Zim brought the remote down on the man’s head.

“Sorry, dude.” Zim parroted the stranger. Maybe he’d used excessive force, but he could probably claim self defense in court. And besides, the guy was... probably... still alive. Now what to do with him?

Chapter Text

“Hello?” Dib heard banging from inside the house. There was no doubt that this was Zim’s house. And with the reaction he got, it was clear that the rogue invader knew what he was here for. Dib mentally prepared himself for battle, grabbing a stun laser from his PAK. It was one of the few weapons he carried with him, and typically only to subdue experiments, but it may come in handy here. Finally the sounds of chaos from inside the house stopped, and the rogue invader gingerly opened the door. 

“Thank you! I—” Dib had forgotten about the laser gun in his hand. Zim’s eyes had landed on it and shrunk to pinpricks. With a screech, the rogue flung something at him, and Dib was blinded with pain. He collapsed to the ground, and barely registered himself being pulled into the house before he completely blacked out.

~

Zim managed to get the tall “home inspector” tied into a chair all by himself. A feat of strength considering his rather diminutive stature. He paced in front of the stranger, wondering what to do next. The bucket of water was still waiting in the kitchen, he could certainly start with that. He’d confiscated the stranger’s gun and tinkered around with it, but it didn’t make sense. Nothing he could take apart even with his vast array of tools. It was damn near inhuman. 

“ REBOOTING ” A deep robotic voice filled the living room, sending Zim nearly three feet into the air in panic. Not long after, the stranger woke up, rubbing his head with a groan. Zim quickly flew into action, turning off all the lights and jumping onto the table with a flashlight, pointing it into the stranger’s eyes.

“Who are you?!” Zim barked, turning the flashlight on and off rapidly. The stranger winced away. 

“I— I’m here to— to— Would you shut that thing off? ” 

“I don’t know, would you tell me your name? Who do you work for? What do you want with me? What’s the deal with your gun?!”

“Dib” the stranger managed to say, struggling against the binds and swiping at the flashlight. “I’m not here to hurt you, I was sent by the Tallest to retrieve your weaponry, now turn that light off!”

“The who?” Zim reluctantly turned the flashlight off, plunging the room into darkness. He hopped off the table and made his way to the lightswitch. “I don’t have any weapons, unless you want to steal my little brother. He has a habit of getting into... trouble, let’s say.”

“Your SIR?”

“My what? You’re talking nonsense. Don’t make me get the flashlight back out. Now tell me about your gun.”

“I really don’t understand what’s going on here,” Dib struggled again in his chair.

“I don’t know why you keep trying to get out,” Zim hopped back on the coffee table, sitting cross legged as to make eye contact with the stranger. “I’m particularly good at tying knots. Now, I answered your questions, you answer—” Zim stopped abruptly as a robot arm shot out of the man’s back, freeing him from the rope with a red-hot laser beam. Once the stranger was free, the robot arm turned on Zim. 

Zim screamed, scrambling to get up and off the table, Gir came barreling down the stairs in full force, tumbling over himself a couple of times on the way down. Seeing the weird robot arm tracking Zim as he ran around the room, Gir screeched and threw his stuffed pig at the stranger in the chair. The arm was knocked to the floor and Zim quickly regained his bearings. 

“What the hell was that about!?” Zim had the bucket of water out of the sink in a split second, dangerously close to launching it at Dib. Gir obediently made his way to Zim’s side, watching the altercation with vague curiosity. “You try to shoot me with a gun, then you try to laser me?! Talking about ‘Tallest’ and ‘weaponry’?! I’m just a kid! I could get you arrested for this!” 

Dib groaned, picking the arm up off the ground. Thankfully he’d gotten the scan before the SIR had knocked the arm out of his PAK. It would take hours to rewire it back in. But for now that didn’t matter. Something was wrong with Zim and, for better or for worse, Dib would have to deal with it before his mission could continue. 

“If I may, before you call the authorities,” Dib fiddled with the holo-disguise unit on his wrist. One of his better inventions, to be sure. He turned the dial and his human facade melted away. “Please, Zim, hear me out.” Dib extended a hand to the rogue invader. Maybe if he could appeal to the other Irken on a more personal level... He switched his language output from English to Irken, “Zim? I know we got off on the wro—” 

Dib was interrupted by a blood curdling scream. His antennae pressed flat to the back of his head as Zim’s pupils constricted. “What the HELL are you?!” Zim backed against the wall. Gir, for his part, seemed rather unfazed, although Zim had grabbed the SIR unit and held it close. 

“I’m— what do you mean?!” Dib stood, and Zim cowered even further away like a braaghaschlatz caught in a trap. “I don’t understand,” Dib muttered, more to himself, “Why don’t you understand?” he looked back up at the terrified Irken before him. What happened to the rogue, ‘very dangerous’ invader that he’d been warned about? And more importantly, why didn’t he show even a shred of recognition towards his own species or technology?

Chapter Text

“Computer?” Dib tried, pacing around the house. Zim was stalking him with his eyes, both curious and fearful. Gir had escaped his master’s clutches and was parading around behind Dib, freezing every time he turned to look at him.

“Voice input not authorized,” Zim’s house computer replied, startling the shorter Irken again. “Identify yourself or be ejected!” 

“Dib,” he hesitated, what else was he supposed to say? He stood still for a scan as a robotic arm descended from the ceiling, caking the room and its occupants with years worth of dust. 

“Irken Dib…” the computer muttered. Dib felt something lodge into his PAK. Were all invader level computers this thorough? “Scientist drone…” The computer fell silent, no doubt processing all of the information in his PAK. Dib vaguely wondered if it could think and make decisions independent of its master. “Voice control… authorized. For the sake of the mission.”

“The sake of the— what the hell is going on here? Why is there a ROBOT VOICE in my house?!” Zim finally stood up, having gathered the courage to address the situation at hand. “You! Alien! Why are you talking to my… house? Can somebody please tell me what is happening ?”

“You’re a—" Dib was cut off rather rudely by the computer, who violently ripped the scanner from his PAK, throwing Dib to the floor. 

“There is nothing to worry about,” the home computer seemed strained, if a disembodied robot voice could feel such a way. “You and Gir were sick and couldn’t make it to school. This man is a doctor here to help you feel better.”

“A doctor?!” Zim grabbed at his head in exasperation, “Why does he—“ Zim’s eyes glazed over, and he fell to the floor. Moments later, he woke up, just as confused, but looking at Dib with curiosity rather than fear. “A doctor…” Zim pushed himself up to his feet, “I’m sick… can’t…” Zim yawned, dragging himself to the couch where he promptly collapsed. 

“What did you do to him?!” Dib called up at the computer. In response, he was flung to the ground as the floor opened beneath him, revealing an elevator shaft. The lights flickered and a substantial layer of dust covered the elevator chamber. Without a word, the elevator was sent careening down to the depths of the earth. Evidently Zim’s base was still intact, if unused. 

“What did you do to him?” Dib asked again when the elevator let him out at the main lab. He wandered around, brushing dust off of dials and tools. This stuff was outdated, but not by that far. He still knew Irkens set in their old ways, insistent on using malfunctioning hardware from Operation Impending Doom II. Even so, there were still some marvels of technological prowess here. A mechadoomer loomed in one corner of the lab like a chicken-legged zombie from another era, on the table in front of him was a project abandoned halfway through. The notes beside it denoted its intended use, a remote piloting device programmed to latch on to the Massive’s power core. A note at the bottom of the schematic explained how the Tallest needed to be present for Zim’s ‘latest evil masterpiece,’ and that this would be the thing he needed to get them to finally show up.

“Computer?” Dib asked again, after finishing his cursory scan of the labs, “What happened?”

The computer didn’t respond, but the massive monitor dominating the room flared to life. 

~

“Computer!” Zim paced the labs, they were much cleaner, and the unfinished Massive remote control was sitting on a table in the background. A SIR unit, Gir, most likely, bounced around behind Zim, entertaining itself with just about anything it could find. “Contact the Tallest. I want to give them one last chance to come willingly.”

“Fine,” the computer grumbled. Zim’s face lit up in pink as the monitor he faced attempted to contact their leaders. 

“What is it, Zim?” Dib recognised Tallest Red’s voice, and he saw the Tallest reflected in Zim’s eyes. Neither looked happy to see him. 

“My Tallest!” Zim saluted, “My plans are going as expected— better than expected, even! The brain-eating parasite is nearly ready and the humans are as unsuspecting as ever! The carnage will be GREAT!” Zim jumped into the air, barely containing his excitement. Gir cheered in the background. “I trust you have already made plans to come see? I am certain you will be impressed.”

“No, Zim” Red groaned exasperatedly. “We have not, and will not make any plans to come see you. We don’t want to see your parasite, we don’t want to see your plans, we don’t want to see YOU !”

“So you’re saying you’re… busy? But you’ll come see later! Oh, I can’t wait to launch Earth’s organic sweep! This planet is filthy, you know? The universe will be better without it”

“The universe will be better without you!” Purple snapped, Zim cocked his head in confusion. “I mean—"

“He means, Zim,” Red interrupted his partner with a sigh, “We aren’t coming to see you. Not now, not ever. There will be no organic sweep, no invasion, no armada. You are, and for the record, have been , effectively banished. If we could get you deactivated, we would. But at this point it’s too much of a hassle for someone worth as little as you. So… enjoy your life on Earth, Zim. Talk to you never .” The transmission cut out, and Zim stared blankly at the screen. Gir, in his blissful ignorance, continued playing in the background.  

The video sped up, sped up, sped up. Nearly 14 hours passed in a matter of minutes, and finally Zim snapped awake at the sound of his PAK beeping. Low battery, Dib knew that sound all too well from his several-day long stints spent tinkering alone in the lab. The Irken on screen finally shook himself out of his stupor, pulling his PAK off and setting it up to charge. Gir was sleeping on the control panel in front of him.

“Computer?” Zim’s voice was quiet. Dib couldn’t read the emotions in his eyes, couldn’t tell if the brash invader was being quiet for Gir’s sake, or simply because he hadn’t used his voice in hours. “What do you know about memory erasure?”

“Memory erasure?” The computer matched Zim’s volume, its voice a deep bass that thrummed through Dib’s head, vibrating his antennae unwittingly. “It’s a dangerous procedure.”

“Will it help me forget any of this ever happened?” As Zim spoke, a tube snaked its way into frame, hooking itself up to Zim’s pack. The words ‘Food Service Drone’ illuminated the dark room. Zim turned to stare at the screen, “The Tallest aren’t coming…” He glanced back at the unfinished remote piloting device. “How dangerous, Computer?”

“Well, it could result in your horrible, gruesome death.” Zim merely raised an eyebrow at this, almost completely unfazed. “Also, if the procedure is completed successfully, any triggers from your past could result in a brain overload, potentially frying your PAK and deactivating you forever.”

Zim hummed to himself, looking some things up on his monitor. “And if you helped me? If I ordered you to eliminate anything or any one who could make me…”

“That’s… possible. Master, are you actually planning to go through with this?"

"You heard the tallest,” Finally, emotion in Zim’s eyes, although it wasn’t pleasant. “They’re not coming, they’re never coming. The rest of my life on this dirty, filthy planet of dirt is my banishment, punishment, what have you. For what? I don’t know. I’ve done nothing but devote myself to the empire, to the Tallest! I was a picture-perfect invader. But clearly,” Zim kicked at the ground, clearly frustrated, “That’s not good enough. So yes, Computer. I’m going through with this. It’s nobody’s loss but the Empire’s, after all.”

Zim’s PAK dinged, and the Irken reattached himself to it. Gir shuffled in his sleep, sucking at his metal hand. Zim glanced over at the movement. “We will have to do something about Gir, as well.” He muttered, half to himself, half to the computer. “I would hate to deactivate him…”

“We can wipe his memory chip,” the computer offered, an arm descending from the ceiling gently switched the sleeping robot off, and Zim opened up its head, pulling out the chip. “Implant false memories,” the computer continued, unprompted, “Make him believe he’s always been a dog, or child, or whatever.”

“Yeah…” Zim hesitated, staring at the chip in his hands. “Do you think we could… back this up? I don’t want him to be lost forever.”

“How sentimental, Master,” the Computer’s voice bordered on sarcastic, but there was a hint of sadness in it. “Would you like me to back your PAK up as well?”

Zim dismissed the computer with a wave, “That won’t be necessary. Just the robot. I’m leaving the rest to you,” Zim grabbed the tube from the table, latching it back on to his PAK. 

“Are you su—“

“Computer!” Zim barked, growing frustrated with the AI, “That’s an order! Wipe, now!”

“Ye-s, sir.” The computer sounded just as pained as it had earlier in the house. Zim settled into the chair, taking his last few moments to take in the lab. His gaze landed on the abandoned project on the table. When he looked back at the camera his eyes were set, ready. 

The camera cut to black. 

Chapter Text

“So he could…” Dib glanced around, the lights in the lab that still worked were flickering. “That’s why you stopped me earlier.” 

“I sensed that his frustration was bordering on dangerous levels.” the computer replied, “Now, what are you here to do, Irken Dib? You’re here on behalf of the Tallest?”

“Y-yeah, I had no clue all of… that, I just, they, I was sent to retrieve Zim’s old… projects? Weapons of mass destruction?”

“I’m afraid I cannot allow that.”

“Why not? He’s not using them, clearly.”

“I was expressly instructed by the Master on multiple occasions to not allow his creations to fall into foreign hands.”

“I’m not foreign, I’m—“

“You may be able to convince him…” The computer's tone changed, if Dib didn’t know any better he’d say the AI was smirking. “If you can safely restore his memories.”

“But you didn’t back his PAK up,” Dib stood from the chair he hadn’t realised he’d sat down in. “Shouldn’t he—“

“What were you encoded as? A scientist drone? Surely you know, then, that every PAK unit comes equipped with a recovery drive in the event of corruption or tampering?’

“I— yes, I just,” Dib honestly hadn’t known. Most of his work was on SIR units and other military weaponry. Nothing that had to do with the PAK. “Okay, okay, so I need to help you before I can finish my mission?”

“Unless you want to return to your precious ‘Tallest’ empty handed,” The computer sounded spiteful, Dib almost didn’t blame him, although every wire in his PAK told him to defend his leaders’ will and honor. 

“Fine,” Dib grumbled, “Now how do we go about this without making him explode?”

~

“You’re still here?” Dib emerged from the toilet in the kitchen. Zim glanced up, annoyed, but not to a deadly extent. “I thought you’d gone home.”

Dib didn’t know where to start. The computer had explained that this was a delicate, long process. It wasn’t as simple as ripping Zim’s PAK off and rebooting from the recovery drive. Zim wasn’t a robot, so the process was more akin to stitching everything back together. Dib wasn’t even sure if he should start the process immediately, but the sooner he got this done, the sooner he could get home. 

“Are you just going to stand in the middle of my kitchen all day? Some doctor,” Zim rolled his eyes, returning to his project.

“What are you... up to?”

Zim blinked, taking his sweet time to respond, “I’m working.”

“On what?”

“What kind of ‘doctor’ are you anyway? You’d better not be one of those therapists.”

“Just a— I’m not really a— I...” Dib racked his brain for an answer. Why didn't he do more research before coming to earth? Because you didn’t expect to be here any longer than an hour, the voice in his mind snarked at him. “What’s a therapist?”

“With all the questions you’re asking, you might as well be one.” Zim sighed, standing up from his project to address Dib. He still had to look up to make eye contact, but it was the thought that mattered. “Okay, therapist. What do you want to ask me?”

“What were you working on?”

“That,” Zim pointed at Dib’s stun gun on the kitchen table. “Next question.”

“Do you want my help?

“Are you a therapist or an engineer?” Zim folded his arms, “I’ll be fine. Next.”

Dib groaned, he wasn’t sure if he preferred this prickly Zim or the paranoid Zim. At least he wasn’t trying to blind him anymore. “I want to help you, Zim,” in more ways than one... Dib tried to get past the shorter Irken. Maybe deconstructing the gun would be a good place to start. After all, Zim had evidently been a skilled engineer in his time. “Let's look at it together.”

“So you’re one of those doctors.” Zim huffed, but he reluctantly sat back down. Dib pulled a chair up next to him, grabbing a multi tool out of his PAK. 

“It’ll be fun. Tell me about yourself.” Dib flicked the tool open, finding the right screw tip to take off the casing. He handed the tool to Zim. 

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Zim turned the tool over in his hands, ignoring the gun and inspecting every little part of the tool. “Like some sort of weird swiss army knife. Is there a knife on this?” Zim asked, a little too excitedly. 

“No,” Dib hurriedly answered, “It’s a multi tool. Back home I’m a scientist.”

“Back home?” Zim scrutinized Dib, who shifted uncomfortably. He’d re-enabled his holo-disguise to keep Zim from having another near-death experience. “You’re a foreigner, then?”

“Something like that.”

“And certainly not a registered doctor.” Zim mused, flicking through the multi tool until he got back to the screw bit that worked with the stun gun. “Sounds like you’re just visiting. Why are you here, then?”

“I’m in town for...” Dib had always been terrible at lying, especially coming up with things on the spot. “A... convention? Science... stuff...” 

“Oh! You mean the presentation Professor Membrane is holding in a few days? You’re early, but I heard it’s gonna be great.” The stun gun was already halfway disassembled. Dib didn’t even notice, relieved his lie had gone undetected. “Still doesn’t explain why you showed up here but if you need a place to stay we have an extra room. Gir prefers to sleep on the couch anyway.”

“That really isn’t—” Dib stopped himself. On one hand, more time around Zim meant more time helping the rogue invader remember his past, which meant he could get home sooner. On the other, even a blissfully ignorant Zim was chaotic and dangerous to extreme levels. Dib was eternally grateful the smaller Irken hadn’t figured out how to use the stun gun. “I... mean, thank you, Zim. I’ll take you up on that.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s great. What’s an “Irken Empire?” Dib choked. While he was stuck in his head, Zim had finished disassembling the stun gun. “This is the same little emblem you have on your coat. Is it some sort of cult?” Zim held up a piece of the stun gun, which read “Property of the Irken Empire” on the inside. 

“You can read that?” Dib took the piece of metal, narrowing his eyes at it. It was written in Irken, the military insignia was emblazoned underneath. 

“Uhh, yeah?” Zim snatched the metal casing back, “So you’re in a cult?”

“No, that’s my home,” Dib wasn’t sure how far he could take this. He assumed the computer would stop him if things got dangerous. 

“Weird, you’re some sort of government scientist, then?” Zim’s attention was fully focused on the gun, which he was now attempting to reassemble. Dib watched him with intrigue. 

“Military scientist. I help develop, uh, weapon tech. And stuff.” 

“Explains the high tech gun. Weird, though. I know I don’t exactly pay attention in school, but I’ve never heard of any Irken empire. I’m getting USSR vibes from it, though.” 

“I... don’t know what that is.” 

“It doesn’t matter, look!” Zim held up what used to be Dib’s stun gun. “I improved it. Your gun was broken, see, when you shoot it it just sorta... tingles.” Zim pushed back his chair, standing up, ‘improved’ gun in hand. “I fixed it, now it’ll really do some damage.”

Dib watched slack jawed as Zim held up the former stun gun, aiming at a can on the counter. He didn’t just shoot the can, it exploded on contact with the laser beam. “You—”

“It works like a dream,” Zim beamed, aiming the gun at a jar. He missed by a little bit, hitting an old stack of papers that went up in flames. “Oh shi—” Zim turned on the sink, spraying the flame with the little attached hose. 

“I, uh, thanks,” Dib finally got out of his shocked stupor, “I’ll take that back, now...” Zim was wielding the former stun gun in one hand and the sink-hose in the other. 

“Of course,” Dib was worried for a moment that Zim wouldn’t give the gun back, but the short Irken loosened his grip and allowed Dib to take it. So this was what the Tallest meant when they said he was a very dangerous force of chaos and destruction. Zim returned the hose to the sink and leaned against the counter. “You’re welcome, by the way. Take that back to your empire or whatever. Show them what a real laser gun looks like.”

“I’ll... do that.” Dib gaped at the weapon in his hands, he was almost too scared to hold it. He flicked the safety on, relieved Zim hadn’t disabled it, and stuffed it in his PAK. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I promised Gir we’d go to Krazy Taco today. You can tag along, but...” Zim trailed off. 

“I’ve got a call to make,” Dib shrugged, standing up as well. 

“That’s fine, I’ll show you to Gir’s room. We’ll probably be back in a half-hour. More if Gir starts terrorising the staff. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Best of luck with your... crazy taco, then.” Dib’s mind was already thirty steps ahead, trying to figure out what he’d say to his supervisor, or if he should just call the Tallest directly. What would he tell the Tallest? Should he even tru— Dib felt a jolt, like he’d been shocked by a normal, non-’improved’ stun gun. Of course he could trust the Tallest. Why wouldn’t he? He had no stake in this feud, he was just an innocent third party.

Chapter Text

“Incoming transmission from… Earth?” The transmission officer’s voice betrayed his shock, mixed with confusion and a hint of fear. The last time they’d received a call from Earth must have been nearly five years ago now. He glanced back at the Tallest, whose faces were nearly white with terror. Red was the first one to recover from their shock, waving for the crew to accept the call, as he’d temporarily lost his voice. 

“My Tallest,” The face that filled the screen was decidedly not Zim. Dark blue eyes and crooked antennae differentiated the Irken from the rogue invader. “I wanted to report an update on my mission. And, I… have some concerns to share.”

“Oh thank… well, us,” Purple sighed in relief, finally retrieving his voice. Red stared at the vaguely familiar Irken, trying to place his name. “We thought you were Zim!” 

“Dob? Bid?” Red tested, neither of them were quite right.

“Dib, sirs.” 

“Dib! I remember now, the uhh, scientist, right? We sent you to get our weapons! Where are they?” Red’s attitude flipped from jovial to impatient in a split second, while his partner dwelled on less important details.

“Did you find Zim? Did he hurt you?” Purple asked with morbid curiosity, “Are you in hiding?” Purple grinned, nudging the other Tallest, “Oh, I hope he’s in hiding.” He addressed the Irken on screen again, “Did you record the battle?”

“There was— no battle?” Dib tilted his head, “That’s the thing, Zim was… scared. Of me.”

“Oh that’s even better!” Purple practically jumped out of his chair. Even Red had a sort of devilish smile. “So, when will you be returning with our weapons?”

“I don’t know, my Tallest. That was why I called you. Zim was scared because he—-“ Dib paused, should he really tell the Tallest what he saw in Zim’s base? Betray the small Irken’s trust by revealing his weakness to the Tallest? Dib shook off the hesitancy, of course he should tell them! They were his Tallest, after all. “He doesn’t remember… anything.”

“Anything?” Now it was Red’s turn to get excited, “You mean all this time, Zim was a sitting duck? Completely unable to defend himself?” Dib wasn't sure he liked the glint in Red’s eyes, but he nodded all the same. 

“We thought for sure he’d gone rogue. Ha! Red thought he was building some sort of “resistance” to overthrow the Empire or something.” The Tallest seemed relaxed, downright happy at the news. 

“I did not,” Red hissed, elbowing his partner. “Well then, scientist drone? What’s the hangup? We asked for weapons of mass destruction, here.” 

“I have to re—“ Dib stopped. Not paused, stopped. After the Tallest’s reaction to the news that Zim had lost his memories, how would they react when Dib told them he would bring them back? He shuddered at the thought of being yelled at by his leaders. “I’ll have them in a week’s time, my Tallest,” Dib steeled his face, staring at his leaders on the small display and hoping they didn’t catch his stumble. 

“Good! Great!” Purple clapped his hands, standing up. “Let us know if there will be any delays so we can punish you accordingly.”

“And double check for any leftover snacks as well,” Red spoke up, brows furrowed in concentration, “They discontinued Schloogie bars not long after we lost contact with Zim. See if he has any.”

“Of course, my Tallest.” Dib gave his leaders a short nod, “I’ll… meet up with the Armada in a week.”

“Wonderful! Don’t forget my Schloogie bars!” Red gave a small wave of his hand and the transmission was cut. Dib blinked at the black screen, and finally exhaled. How was he going to restore Zim’s memories and convince him to give up the weapons in a week?! Foolish, foolish. 

“I suppose the best place to start would be a plan…” Dib pulled a pad from his PAK. “But where to begin?” He chewed on the end of the pen, staring at the blank screen before him. 

~

“So…” Purple glanced at his fellow Tallest, who was reclining contentedly in his chair. “Are we gonna blow him up?”

“Is that even a question, my dear friend?” Red had that look on his face, the one Purple both feared and loved. “Of course we are. Set a course for Earth!” he shouted to the captain, who saluted in turn. The crew got to work twisting knobs and pulling levers. Their work done, the Tallest rose from their seats. 

“But what if that guy is still on the planet when we explode it?” Purple asked as they floated down the hall to their quarters, where a dinner of fresh donuts and other snacks surely awaited them. 

“Well we were sending him on a death mission anyway,” Red shrugged, “It’s not like he’s particularly important.”

“And the weapons?” That gave Red pause. They were , after all, the reason they’d sent Derb on the mission in the first place. “He has his time frame,” Red finally spoke again. Purple had his hand on the doorknob. “We give him a week, then the whole thing goes,” Red finished his sentence with a demonstration, waving his hands around and making exploding sounds. 

Purple laughed, opening the door to the expected scent of freshly baked pastries. “And Zim’s reign of terror will be no more!” 

“Precisely!” Red led the way in, “Let’s not talk about Zim, though. Don’t want to spoil our meal.”

Purple nodded, focus drifting to the snacks before them. Not bothering to close the door, the two Tallest descended on the helpless donuts with ravenous vigor.

Chapter Text

“Gir!” Zim called. The two would have to go to school today. But what to do with their unexpected guest? “Stranger!” He called as well, after some thought.

“I have a name,” the stranger— doctor? Therapist? Scientist?— rubbed at his eyes, descending the stairs. He was still wearing the coat he’d shown up in the day before. 

“I’m sure you do,” Zim folded his arms, “And I’m sure it’s wonderful, but that is not of import. You are going to have to find something to do today. Away from my home.”

“Why?” the stranger yawned. Gir nearly knocked the man over when he barrelled down the stairs. 

“Because I’m not leaving some stranger alone in my house for an entire school day!” Zim rolled his eyes. Maybe he was too harsh with the stranger, he was a foreigner after all. “This is how things work in America. You could come to school with me, I suppose.”

“Go to what?” the stranger— what was his name? Ding?— hit his bag, it seemed to jolt him into consciousness. Weird. He’d have to remember to ask him about it later. 

“School.” Zim repeated, exasperated. This “Irken Empire” must be some sort of third-world country. No, that was offensive to third-world countries. Fourth-world , then. “Sounds like you need it, too.”

“No, no, that’s” the stranger blinked, as though remembering something. “Wait, you can’t— I need you here,”

“I think things are moving a little too quickly, Ding,” Zim stepped back from the stranger, who was advancing on him quickly. “I don’t even know you!”

“It’s Dib,” the stranger— Dib! He remembered now— grabbed for his shoulder, “You don’t understand, I wanted to… teach you about my… country.”

“Let me teach you something about mine,” Zim dodged Dib’s hand. “We don’t do… whatever it is you’re doing here. Seriously, personal bubble. Do whatever you want, but stay out of my house.” Zim opened the door, allowing Gir to escape and run ahead. “And stop staring. It’s creepy.”

Zim gestured out the open door, and the two shared a tedious stalemate for a few moments before Dib left. Zim closed and locked the door behind him, and strode ahead of the scientist to catch up to his younger brother. 

~

Great. Now Dib was locked out of the only other Irken technology on this damned planet. And Zim was off to ‘School’, a completely non controlled environment with dozens of humans. Not the best place to try and remind Zim of his culture. He briefly wondered how the humans didn’t suspect anything. It wasn’t as though his disguise was any good. The humans, Dib learned, had a wide variety of skin tones. To his understanding, green was not one of them. Not to mention the lack of facial extremities and the obnoxiously gelled wig. Come to think of it, he had a lot of questions. Questions he could get answers to in due time, once he got Zim alone. 

Step one. History lesson. Dib wandered the streets, trying to track Zim’s path to school. He wasn’t trained for this! Why would the Tallest entrust him with such a sensitive mission? Where on Earth had Zim go—

Dib stopped abruptly, his antennae twitching behind his holo-disguise. moments later, a large yellow vehicle careened past him with little regard for his— or anybody’s— safety. He took the time to assess his surroundings, and finally found himself in front of a run-down building teeming with human children. ‘Skool’ the sign read, this must be it. 

You could come to school with me, I suppose. Zim’s voice echoed in his mind. Dib shook his head, this was serious. He had a week to return to the Tallest, no time for fun and games. He would just extract Zim from the school…

~

“Can Zim come to the office, please?” the speaker crackled to life, and Zim glanced at his homeroom teacher, who nodded. He stood with a flourish and exited the room. “Gir, Gir, Gir,” Zim shook his head, muttering to himself, “Can’t stay out of trouble.”

“—And I’m just concerned for his well being,” Zim pushed the door open and froze mid step. Why on earth was Dib here?! 

“ What are you doing here?” Zim hissed. The guy was borderline creepy. Zim was already regretting letting him stay in the house. 

“Zim!” Dib had a fake smile plastered on his face. “I just wanted to check in on you. How are things?”

“Why is he here?” Zim ignored Dib, addressing the receptionist. 

“It’s okay, Zim. Seeing a therapist is completely normal for somebody your age. The doctor here says you haven’t been attending sessions lately, and he was worried about you!” She was overly cheery, Zim had always been wary of her.

“I’m. Fine.” he bit out, turning on his heel. “I will see you this afternoon, doctor .” Zim narrowed his eyes, stalking back down the hall. The gall! Yeah, he’d invited Dib to school, thought it would be a fun prank, but that was before the stranger got all creepy. Dib would have to do some explaining, and apologising, for Zim to let him stay in the house after all of this. 

“Well,” Dib turned to the receptionist. She creeped him out, staring into his soul with that wide grin. “I suppose that’s that.” He’d hoped for more. Things were not going according to plan at all. “I’ll… be on my way.” Every instinct he had told him not to turn his back on the woman. She just kept smiling, staring. She gave him a wave and he dashed out the door, nearly activating his spider-legs in an attempt to get out faster. 

~

The day continued on. Zim would catch glimpses of Dib roaming the school grounds. In third period, he glanced out the window to see the top of the foreigner’s giant head peeking up over the windowsill. He didn’t mean to yelp, but he did, drawing the entire class’s attention towards him. When he looked back, Dib was gone. 

Later, after lunch, Zim had been dozing off in science when he heard a loud noise. He opened his eyes to find Dib on the ceiling, god knows how he was hanging on. He screamed and Dib fell to the floor. Both of them were sent to the office, and they threatened to call the police on Dib. As they should.

The weirdo got away scot-free, however, and the day went on. Not a moment to rest, he didn’t even spend social studies staring aimlessly out the window like he usually did. The school day seemed to drag on, and with every passing moment Zim both wanted to fatally harm Dib and completely avoid him. It would seem destiny chose the former, as Dib was waiting outside the doors with Gir when school finally let out. 

“Finally,” Dib started. He probably had more to say, but Zim interrupted him with a punch to the chest. For just a split second, Dib glitched out— like he was part of a video game, or some sort of an illusion. Green skin replaced sickly pale white, and giant bug-eyes bulged in shock. Then just like that, it was over. Dib was back to normal, and Zim was left speechless.

“Are you done?” Dib choked out, clutching his midsection. 

Zim shook himself out of it. “What the hell were you doing, following me around all day! You’re some major creep! You’d better start explaining yourself or you’ll be sleeping in the park for the rest of your— hopefully short— stay.” Dib stared at him curiously, not saying a word. Zim rolled his eyes and started walking, “Start talking.”

“Well that's what I was trying to do,” It didn’t take Dib long to catch up. Gir was a ways behind the two. “I thought if you knew more about my culture you woul—“ Dib paused, as though choosing his next words carefully. “You would understand things from my perspective. It isn’t easy being in a new… country, after all.”

“You know it could’ve waited,” Zim grumbled, “I’ll give you another tip, the whole following me around all day thing? Not cool.”

“Apologies,” The two found themselves at the gate to Zim’s front yard. “I didn’t realise… regardless, I’d love to—“

“Not right now,” Zim stopped and turned, watching Gir run down the street towards them. “Seriously. Two seconds? Alone? We can talk about your country or whatever later.”

“Okay, okay,” Gir finally caught up, and Dib followed the two inside. He’d have to rearrange his entire plan to account for what was essentially a wasted day. That would theoretically give Zim enough time to cool down. Maybe he could move step 2 forward…

Chapter Text

Dib took the opportunity to flesh out his plan. Step 2 could be moved forward, but the potential for a lethal shock without the proper context couldn’t be overstated enough. There was a knock at the door. Dib glanced up.

“Dib?” Zim’s voice, although he didn’t exactly sound apologetic for his curtness earlier in the day. Dib still wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done wrong, although he knew it had something to do with trying to get Zim’s attention.

“Come in,” Dib said, attention returning to the writing pad. He clicked his tongue, trying to figure out the best way to make up for lost time.

“Now don’t get the wrong idea,” Zim started, stepping into the room. “I’m not here to apologise.” His eyes momentarily flicked away, “I’m here to ask you some questions.”

“Questions?”

“Yes,” Zim grumbled, “You were very excited to talk about your home, so I will ask you my questions and allow you to talk about your country. I guess.”

It was a request framed as an order. Dib chuckled at the subconscious Irken mannerisms coming through the memory wipe. “Of course, Zim.” He gestured to a spot on the floor across from him. The SIR unit’s unused bedroom was not exactly well furnished, with a vacant twin bed in the corner and a flickering lightbulb barely keeping the room lit. Not that it mattered to either Irken, even if one of them didn’t notice his own enhanced eyesight. .

“I’ll start,” Zim didn’t sit, instead circling around behind Dib, which was a challenge considering the latter was leaning against the wall. “What’s with your backpack?”

“My what?” Zim tapped Dib’s PAK. “My PAK?”

“Yes, your pack. Your backpack.” Zim would not leave Dib’s PAK alone, futily attempting to pry it off. “I saw this morning, you were tired... and it,” Zim paused, trying to find the right word, “It jolted you awake. Like an electric shock.”

Dib’s eyes lit up, who needed a history lesson when Zim was practically clambering to figure out Irken technology? “I can explain it to you, if you waAA—"

Dib was sent into the air on mechanical spider legs. Zim yelped and threw himself backward, staring up at Dib. “Well, now you have to!” He said, bewildered, surprised, but not scared. Curious, even. That was good. Dib pushed the center button on his PAK.

With a whirr, the legs folded back up and Dib landed lithely on his feet.

“Here,” Dib pried the PAK up off his back. The tubes connecting it to his spine retracted, and it popped off. His life clock popped up in his peripheral vision. Hopefully this demonstration wouldn't take more than 10 minutes. “This is my PAK. It’s…” Dib wondered how far he should go, if this should really be the first thing they discussed, but Zim was captivated so he continued. “It’s like… what did you say? My backpack. It holds things—“

“Like giant mechanical spider legs?”

“Yes,” Dib chuckled, “And a lot of other things as well.” He opened the top, pulling out the formerly non-lethal stun gun. “Like this,”

“Yes, yes, I’ve seen that. I made that. Show me something new.”

Dib rolled his eyes. “It's got a transmission device,” Dib pulled out a small oblong metal object. “This one is short-range. I imagine you—“ Dib stopped himself, Zim didn’t catch his misstep, too interested in the device to pay attention.

“So it’s like a cell phone?”

“A what?”

Zim pulled something from his pocket, a rectangular slab of glass and metal. Dib took it from his hands, gingerly tapping the screen. “It isn’t the newest one,” Zim leaned over, “But it doesn’t look like you care.” It wasn’t high-tech by any means. Dib probably could have made a similar device as a smeet. But it was new, and interesting. Suddenly he realised how Zim must feel, blissful ignorance. Did he really want to ruin this? He thought back to the Tallests’ reaction when he told them Zim lost his memories. What would they do to him if they had the motivation to?

Dib shook his head, but the thoughts didn’t completely leave his mind, making their home in a small corner of his consciousness. He traded the ‘cell phone’ for his transmission device, putting it back in his PAK.

“It has those legs you activated,” Dib said, breaking the silence. “I’m not the best at controlling them, they’re more of an Inv— a military device. Regardless, they’re standard issue, and the ones I have are actually a prototype.”

“Really?” Zim reached out to press the button that activated the legs. Dib swatted his hand away.

“Yes, and they really shouldn’t be activated when the PAK isn’t attached to someone.”

“Well, let me try it on,” Zim reached out both hands now, and Dib yelped, pulling the PAK back towards him and letting it attach to his back.

“That is… highly inadvisable,” Dib wiped his brow, leaning back against his wall. “It would… well, I have no clue what it would do to you, but nothing good.”

“Why’s that?” Zim huffed, folding his arms. “Is it ‘cause I don’t have holes in my back?”

“You don’t have what?” Dib blinked. Zim must have seen it reattach. “Oh, well, not necessarily. It doesn’t— you— It would certainly be an interesting experiment…” Dib stewed in that train of thought for a moment. With his PAK back his thoughts felt more organised and in order. Mission. Plan. Step 1… step 2?

Well now that you’ve said ‘experiment’, I think I’ll pass.”

“Do you have any more questions?” Dib asked, leaning forward again. He had to get back on track. So little time…

“Well now I’ve realised your society is a bit more messed up than I initially thought.” Zim started, “Militaristic? Definitely. I’d wager it's a monarchy or dictatorship. And it sounds like you're being controlled by that pack of yours.”

“Controlled?” Dib asked reflexively, the words hadn’t even been processed.

“Well yeah, you took that thing off and you were way more… normal. Put it back on and now you’re talking about experimenting on me.”

“Sorry,” Dib blinked, “But if you’re interested in more I could certainly teach you.”

“Pretty sure I gleaned the important parts.” Zim shrugged. “No offense, about your… control-pack, I guess,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“Then it’s my turn?” Dib had been wondering something the entire time they were talking. A thought that hadn’t been reorganised when he’d put his PAK back on. “Since we were talking about my PAK, I was wondering why…” Dib hesitated, how to put this?

“Why do you always wear yours? Backpack, I mean”

“This?” Zim pulled at the straps of his backpack. If it was a disguise for his PAK it had been expertly crafted, Dib wondered why that effort hadn’t been extended to the rest of his disguise. “Oh I don’t know. Never really thought about it. I suppose it's a fashion statement.”

“Can you take it off?”

“Obviously,” Zim rolled his eyes, shrugging off the straps. The bag was almost off when Zim shuddered from some sort of shock. No doubt from his own PAK. Eyes glazed over, he pulled the straps back to his shoulders. “Well, not right now.”

“Why?” Dib pressed. He didn’t exactly want to see Zim get shocked again, but if it would help his mission…

“Because,” Zim glared, “I’m not going to, and you can’t make me.”

“Okay, okay.” Dib held up his hands in surrender. “What’s in it, then? I showed you the things in my PAK.”

“A reasonable question, finally!” Zim’s hostile mood seemed to melt away, and he excitedly reached back, unzipping the bag with ease and rustling around for something interesting to share.

He pulled out two things, trying to decide which to explain first. “This one is my Game Slave 3D. Just came out last year.” He held out an oddly shaped device. Dib took it, inspecting it with narrowed eyes.

“3D? This screen is clearly not capable of holographic projection.” Dib noted, poking at the buttons on the lower half of the device.

“Well obviously.” Zim snatched it back just as the device powered on. “It’s not some sort of future-tech. It just simulates 3D by blurring the screen, or something. I haven’t really looked into it.”

“Seems like a waste of monies,” Dib grumbled as Zim powered the device back off and placed it to the side.

“Pretending I didn’t hear that,” Zim said, “This is a drone.”

“A drone?” Dib perked up, something of interest!

“Yeah, see I’ve got this controller…” Zim placed a small… thing, on the floor. “And that’s the drone. When I turn it on, like so,” He flipped a switch on the ‘drone’, and pressed a button on the controller. “It flies!” The tiny robot whirred to life and immediately launched into the air, slamming into the ceiling and falling lifeless to the floor. Dib cringed.

“Is it supposed to die?”

“Well, no. It's a little sensitive, but that’s mostly because I upgraded the motors. The stock ones were way too weak. It works much better outdoors.”

“I… see…” He was still more curious about Zim's PAK than the things that were coming out of it. “So there’s nothing else interesting in there?”

“Well I’ve got this,” Zim reached back, digging around for whatever it was he had in mind. Dib crawled around to look in the bag. Zim either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“Your—” Dib blinked, what else would he have expected? Inside the bag, the PAK was sealed tight, firmly secured through the back of the backpack to Zim’s body. Zim’s hand passed over the PAK several times, but he paid it no heed, looking for something

else entirely. Completely nonfunctional as a multitool, the metal lump seemed to be providing the bare minimum life support and core personality traits to its host. He doubted it was running at half capacity, let alone full power.

“My what?” Zim glanced back at Dib, “Did you expect it to be attached to my back or something? Sorry, I don’t live in a corrupt merciless regime.”

“I— don’t know what I expected,” Dib fell back on his heels. He figured the PAK would at least retain some level of functionality, but that may have broken Zim’s illusion. He shook his head, standing up and returning to the abandoned writing tablet and his seat against the wall.

“Anyway, you may be interested in this, it's a…” Dib tuned out the smaller Irken as he tried to process his thoughts. He’d never met anyone who was able to function with their PAK in such a low-power state. Maybe he should alter his course of action. With a fully functional PAK, Zim may start to recall his past on his own. Maybe if he was able to… maybe if he could… maybe…

His stream of ideas was interrupted with a scream cut short. He jolted back to the present and found Zim staring at him like he had that first day. Not nearly as on edge, and certainly not riddled with paranoia. A black box with a large lens sticking out of it sat abandoned between them.

“What?” Dib tilted his head, confused. “Did something happen?”

“A lot of my questions were certainly answered…” Zim’s voice was higher pitched, he sounded almost breathless.

“Did I say something?” It wouldn’t have been the first time Dib had spoken his thoughts aloud, although the last time it happened he was put on SIR repair bay duty. He could still feel the phantom burns from a particularly ruthless pair of malfunctioning bots that got ahold of a prototype flame cannon.

“You might want to— here.” Zim held up the box and clicked a button at the top. The bright flash in the dim room temporarily blinded him. When his eyes recovered, Zim was still keeping his distance, but had gotten close enough to show him the image the box had captured. Oh.

Oh.

“Whoops,” Dib turned the dial on his wrist. It must have gotten knocked out of position. He waited for the house computer to reprogram Zim’s memories. No tube descended from the ceiling and no shock petrified Zim.

“‘Whoops,’ the alien says, re-enabling its disguise.” Zim was on his feet now, pacing. “Deceiving the innocent children who give it food and shelter.”

“You technically haven’t fed me. And I’m not an ‘it’,” Dib groaned. Things were accelerating out of his control now.

“Mind tricks,” Zim spoke to no one, coming to a stop in front of Dib. “Want to explain your mind tricks, alien?”

“My name is Dib.”

“And you’re a perfectly normal human worm baby.” Zim rolled his eyes. “Cut it with the lies. Why are you here, what do you want with me?”

“I just—”

“You’re here to experiment, aren't you!” Zim interrupted him. “Don’t think I didn’t catch that earlier. You want to attach your metal alien mind control device to me and make me your mind-slave!”

“That’s not why I’m—”

“But you don’t deny it! I watched you think about it for a solid couple of seconds there.”

“Well I—”

“So, alien, if that is your name, what's with the crappy disguise?”

“Crappy?” Dib finally got a word in, “I designed this myself!” You’re one to talk, he added silently.

“Well you didn’t do that good of a job. I noticed pretty much immediately.”

“No you didn’t.” Dib rolled his eyes. “I would have known if you knew.”

“You have some sort of sensor in your weird bug-eyes, alien?”

“That isn’t my name.”

“Don’t try to deceive me again, alien! You’re lucky I don’t shoot you right here!”

“With what weapon?” Dib raised an eyebrow.

“Yours.” Zim held up the stun gun he’d ‘fixed’ the night before. “You just left it on the ground when we were talking.” His grin was borderline scary. Dib was once again reminded that the clueless Irken before him was at one point an unstoppable death machine.

“I swear on the Ta— I swear on my life that I’m not tricking you. My name is Dib, not Alien. Why on Irk would my name be Alien?!”

“You certainly have a lot of explaining to do then, Dib.” Zim spat out the word as though it were poison. “Start with the trickery. Why are you here and why haven’t you laid eggs in my stomach?” He lowered the stun gun, but didn’t drop it.

“I’m not— eggs in your stomach?” Dib blinked, the confusion must have been evident in his face, because Zim barked a laugh.

“No jokes, alien. Talk.”

“I’m here on a… mission from my leaders. They—”

“Who are your leaders?”

“Can I talk?”

“After you answer my question.”

“A mission from my leaders, the Almighty Tallest. They wanted me to—”

“Tallest?” Zim crooked an eyebrow, “Your leaders are just… taller than everyone else?”

Dib ignored the comment, “They wanted me to… scout the planet. For—”

“For an invasion? You’re here to take over my planet?!”

“Of course not! I’m a scientist. I’m here to get some technology to return to the Tallest.” Vague, but not deceptive. It was by all accounts the truth.

“Technology…” Zim held up the black picture box, “Like this?”

“I don’t know what that is, so I assume not.”

“Your ignorance is a lot more understandable,” Zim sighed, “It's a camera. It takes pictures. Like this one.” He clicked the button again, the flash once again incapacitating Dib for a couple of seconds. “Next question! Why was your disguise so bad?”

“It isn’t bad.”

“Anything that can be turned off if someone bumps into you on the street is bad.”

“How did you turn it off?”

“I was trying to get your attention and hit your little watch thing by accident. Fundamentally flawed mechanism.”

Dib thought about it for a moment. Zim did, surprisingly, have a point. “Duly noted,” he sighed. “I sincerely apologise for my deception.”

“I somehow doubt that, but the apology is accepted.” Zim seemed to have finally calmed down, sitting back on the floor and placing the stun gun to the side. “Then you were drawn to Professor Membrane’s keynote this weekend? Some sort of alien 6th sense?”

The presentation! Dib’s entire excuse for being here! He’d all but forgotten about it, getting caught up in his work. “Uhhh... yes.” It fell within the week he gave the Tallest. It could be worth a visit even if only to keep up appearances. Although Dib didn’t exactly have high hopes for the advanced properties of such technology given when Zim had put on proud display.

“Well I’m not sure how I feel about an alien living in my home for a week...” Zim looked away, speaking to himself but not lowering his voice. “But I suppose it could be... Alien!” Zim looked back at Dib, who jumped at Zim’s shout.

“Still not my name,” Dib noted to deaf ears— antennae?— “What?”

“I will make a deal with you. You can stay here until the Membrane presentation but only if you show me all of your cool space tech.”

Dib felt some latent tension dissipate. One less thing he had to worry about. “Agreed. But I—”

“Wonderful.” Zim reached out too quickly for Dib to react. He really wasn’t trained for this kind of stuff. “We start with this!” He yanked the holo disguise unit off of Dib’s wrist. His human facade flickered away but Zim didn’t care, intently focused on the little wristband dangling from his hand.

Chapter Text

The two found their way downstairs after about an hour. An hour of Dib having to listen to Zim nitpick every little thing about his holo disguise unit. An hour he’d never get back. Dib feigned hunger to get his wristband back, and it was a good thing he did, as Gir was waiting expectantly for them at the foot of the stairs. Tendrils of smoke snaked out of the kitchen, and Zim immediately went into big-brother mode. 

“What did you do?!” Zim stormed past the guilty looking robot. Dib almost felt bad for it. “This is the third time this month! I told you, you have to put water in it!” Dib rounded the corner to see Zim standing in front of a smoking box. Zim wrenched the door open and a cloud of black smoke smothered him. He let out a choked scream.

“What did you do?” Dib looked down at the robot, curious. Zim was fighting away the smoke in the background. Gir looked up at him with a wide grin. 

“I made mac and cheese!” Just like with Zim, Gir was obviously inhuman. His disguise was little more than a ball cap and some clothes. No effort was taken to conceal his robotic appearance, but the humans somehow still didn’t notice. Completely idiotic monkeys. 

Dib shook his head, patting the little robot on its head. Zim was still busying himself with a fire that was now threatening to engulf the microwave. Maybe now was as good a time as ever to start step 2. Or at least, start the preparations. 

“Do you want to see something cool, Gir?” Dib fished around in his PAK for something to distract the robot. His multitool would do, just enough to lure it away from the kitchen. He wished he knew where all the entrances to Zim’s base were. 

“A taco?” Gir screeched, and Dib frantically shook his head, shushing the robot. “What is it?” Gir asked in a stage-whisper. Better than nothing. 

“Here, fol—“

“What is it?!”

“If you fo—“

“ What is it!?!”

“Follow me!” Dib tried not to shout, rubbing his temples. He dangled the multi tool out in front of the robot, waggling it back and forth to keep Gir’s attention. They ended up backing right into the wall, and Dib was suddenly cornered by the robot. “Computer?” he hissed, “Base!”

No reply from the computer, but a panel in the wall opened, sending both Irken and SIR unit tumbling down a chute. Gir cheered, throwing his hands up in the air with a high pitched squeal.

When they arrived at the base, Gir launched himself out of the chute at mach 10, bouncing from object to object in delight. “You built all of this under our house?!?” The SIR looked at him with bright cyan eyes, “Look at this!” he held up a screwdriver, “And this!” he bounded to a tube in the center of the room, pressing the giant red button on its side. A hive of long dead bees tumbled out of it. 

“What about this?” Dib walked over to the giant monitor, trying to get the overactive robot’s attention, “A big TV?”

“Does it play Angry Monkey?” Gir asked, running full speed in Dib’s direction and screeching to a halt a little too close for comfort. 

“I don’t know what that is,” Dib started, “You know what it does do, though?”

“Does it have Floopsy Bloops Shmoopsy?!”

“I don— Yes. Sure, yes, it does. It has all sorts of things,” Dib circled around behind the SIR. Clearly no work could be done on it while it was on . “Wanna know what else it has?”

“What?” Gir tried to turn around to face Dib, but the Irken turned the robot back toward the monitor and flipped it off in one smooth motion. The lifeless robot collapsed to the floor. 

“Finally,” Dib groaned, reaching down to pull the robot’s memory chip from its head. Maybe Zim would be more willing to part with his weapons if Dib upgraded his SIR unit. It seemed like everything in the little robot was faulty to some degree.

“I would’ve liked to have gotten its permission ,” Dib grumbled to himself, blowing the dust out of the socket on the desk. “But something tells me that wasn’t going to happen.”

Inserting the chip, he was greeted with a password lock. “ Wonderful, ” he muttered, trying several combinations. “The only person who knows the password wiped his memories.”

“You sure love talking to yourself,” the computer’s voice echoed through the dark metal hallways.

“Do I?” Dib didn’t bother glancing up, tapping out a few more attempts at the passcode. “I didn’t notice. Weird.”

“You know there’s someone else who knows the password…” The computer hummed, vibrating the whole room. 

“Yeah, with my luck it would be Gir. Do you know how long it would take to extract that kind of info from that? ” Dib gestured frustratedly at the heap of metal and clothing on the floor. 

“He’s not the only one,” The computer tried, exasperatedly. “You know I was there the entire time, right?”

A lightbulb went off in Dib’s head. “You were there the entire time! You must know the password!” He finally tore his eyes away from the screen, turning to face the empty room. “So, what is it?”

“Well now I don’t think I want to tell you.”

“What do you mean?! I thought I was helping you ‘ for the good of the mission ’!” 

“Maybe if you showed me a little more respect…”

“You’ve got a lot of gall for being a couple of wires and a disembodied voice.”

“I’ll have you know I control every aspect of this house. I could disintegrate you right this moment. But I don’t, I respect you.”

Dib huffed, turning back to the monitor. “Fine. I’m sorry that I didn’t catch your vague hints. What’s the password?”

“What’s the magic word?”

“What’s the magic word…” Dib tapped the phrase into the box. Access Denied . “That wasn’t it.”

The computer let out a robotic groan, “I guess it’s an Earth expression. Just say please.”

“Please?” Dib blinked, confused. 

“Okay, the password is ‘ZimTheGreatest12345’ ” 

“I could have guessed that!” Dib tapped it in. Access Granted. “That’s on me, I severely overestimated his capacity to make a secure password.” He was in, finally he could put his field of expertise to use. He started hunting through the files for a recovery folder or backup drive. 

Thankfully, he knew where to look. He may not be an expert at building revolutionary holographic disguise technology— according to Zim— but he knew a thing or two about SIR units. Within no time at all he had a promising set of files. Several recovery states to boot from, one dated from mid 2006, another from mid 2002, and the last from late 2001. He could only assume the most recent one was the most complete. 

Next Dib had to actually restore the chip, which would be harder. It was an intricate process and any sort of data interruption could corrupt the entire drive. Pulling up the interface on the primary computer, he ran a few lines of code and started the restore process. Estimated completion time of over two hours, that left plenty of time for Dib to hash out how he’d keep the robot from exploding Zim within a matter of seconds. Maybe they could start slow…

Chapter Text

Dib was startled out of his focused stupor by a chime from across the room. He glanced at the clock on the primary monitor to find that, yes it had been two hours. A green bar and giant smile signified the data transfer completion. Dib got up and made his way to the deactivated SIR unit and its newly restored memory chip. Hopefully this wouldn’t go too disastrously. 

Inserting the chip in the SIR unit was easy. Turning it on was also, in theory, easy. But Dib’s hand hesitated over the switch regardless. There was no telling what the SIR would do, no amount of planning could account for Gir’s inherent chaos. Combined with Zim? It was a death sentence waiting to happen, but the computer never stopped him, so Dib could only assume he was on track. He flicked the unit on and stepped away, just in case.

“Gir, reporting for— doody” The robot turned to him and saluted, eyes flashing red before returning to their normal cyan. It screeched out a laugh, “Doody!” It repeated. Dib already regretted every choice that had led him to this moment. 

“Gir, relay your prime directive.”

“Uhhh,” The robot though hard for a moment, “Make friends with all the little squirrels and humans?”

“And who is your master?”

“Zim!” Gir lit up, “Where is he? Is he hiding? Master?!”

At least it was functioning properly. Well, properly was subjective. What mattered was that the restore had gone off without a hitch. “He’s not feeling well, Gir,” Dib started. He’d had more experience with defective SIR units than most, but Gir was on another level. “He needs your help to get better.”

“Master?!?!” Gir screeched, Dib’s hands instinctively flew to his antennae, his disguise shimmered as his hands passed through holographic black hair. 

“That—“ Dib choked out, “Will not help him get better. Now I need you to listen very carefully. If anything goes wrong, your master will explode.”

“Explode?!” Gir was running around, panicked. “My master’s gonna die?!”

“Yes!” Dib grabbed the robot, stopping it in its tracks. He knelt down to its eye level and drew in close. “Zim will explode if anything goes wrong. You have to follow my exact instructions to a T, okay?”

“Okay!” Gir’s eyes flashed red, but his panicked expression didn’t dissipate. Dib let go of the little robot, trying to figure out the simplest way to explain everything to it. 

~

“Where did you two disappear off to?” Zim was ready and waiting when Dib and Gir tried to surreptitiously sneak back into the kitchen. The burnt husk of a microwave sat smoldering behind him. 

“Mast—“ Gir tried to screech, nearly launching himself at Zim. Dib quickly slapped a hand over the robot’s mouth and held him back. 

“We were talking,” Dib said, squeezing the robot in warning. Gir relaxed and Dib slowly let him go. “About… stuff.”

“Stuff” Zim raised an eyebrow at the two of them. “Did you tell him about… you know.”

“I don’t. Know, that is.”

“The Lien-ay thing.” Dib stared at him blankly. If Zim was speaking a different language it wasn’t registering. “You!” Zim added with a hiss, gesturing vaguely. Gir stared at his master in confusion. 

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

“Did you tell him you are an a-l-i-e-n?” Zim spelled out the word, eyes darting frantically between Gir and Dib. 

“What?” Dib blinked, “Oh! Yes, that’s what we were talking about.”

“No! We were ta—“ Gir blurted out, Dib quickly slapped his hand over the robot’s mouth again.

“Careful!” Zim snapped. “Just because you’re a freaky monster from beyond doesn’t mean you can mistreat my little brother.”

“Apologies.” Dib slowly removed his hand from Gir’s mouth, shooting the robot a glare. “I don’t know about the two of you, but I haven’t eaten in days.” He tried to change the subject, dodging past Zim to get to the table, where plates had been set in anticipation of a meal. 

“I had dinner an hour ago. You two are late.” Zim made his way to a simmering pot on the stove regardless, serving a ladle full of off-putting sludge to Gir. Dib stared at him expectantly.

“What?” Zim asked, returning the ladle to the counter and recovering the pot. “I’m not serving you food. Get it yourself.”

“Whatever happened to wanting to see my spaceship?” Dib grumbled, standing to serve his own slop. Gir perked up at Dib’s words. 

“We gonna go in a spaceship?” Gir asked, volume still way too high for Dib’s sensitive antennae. He wondered how Zim could stand the screeching. 

“Not you,” Zim shot a glare at Dib, “You’re way too young to be going to space. Adults only.”

Gir pouted, but thankfully didn’t say any more. Dib was about halfway into his meal before he decided to start phase one of his plan. “So, Zim, you’re interested in alien technology, right?”

“Hm?” Zim was busying himself with the slab of glass he’d called a ‘cell phone’. He looked up, vaguely annoyed but not angry. “Yeah, I guess.”

“How do you feel about sentient robots?”

“That depends,” Zim started, slowly. He set the phone aside and narrowed his eyes at Dib, “Why?”

“I may not have been entirely honest with you,” Dib took a breath, all he could do was hope that Gir would actually play his part. “About the… invading the Earth, part, that is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zim was on guard now. Dib expected this but it didn’t make the situation any less stressful.

“A long time ago, there was another Irken— another alien like myself— who was… assigned, to this planet.” Banished would probably have been a better word, but he was treading on thin ice as is. “He disappeared and left all of his technology here on earth, I was sent to retrieve it.”

“So you aren’t here for the Membrane presentation?”

“You aren’t concerned in the least with the entire part about the ‘another alien on earth who was sent to destroy it’ thing?”

“Well, obviously that’s bad. But you said he left so why should I care?” Zim stood, collecting Gir’s dinnerware. The robot was thankfully being silent and letting Dib explain. 

“And I showed up here because…” Dib glanced between Zim and Gir, “You have some of that technology.” Well, all of it, but that’s a topic for another day. 

“I have what?” Zim laughed, haphazardly tossing the plate and silverware into a dangerously full sink. “I think I would know if I had alien technology in my house.”

“Gir?” Dib looked at the robot. Zim furrowed his brows, following Dib’s gaze.

“You can’t be serious. Gir’s my little brother, not some alien robot. I literally watched him grow up.”

Gir discarded the human clothing, ‘revealing’ his true robot form. Revealing really was a strong word, and Dib once again marveled at humanity’s utter stupidity. The little robot gave a squeal and a wave.

“Gir, prime directive.” Dib wasn’t looking at the robot anymore, keeping his eyes steadily trained on Zim. Zim, for his part, was taking things rather well. Either that or he didn’t believe what was going on. He was steadying himself with the back of a chair, but other than that seemed to be fine. 

“Infiltrate and gather intelligence on the humans, prepare Earth for the coming Irken Armada,” Gir’s eye’s flashed red, he and Dib had practiced this. Things were going surprisingly smoothly. “And dance with all the funny cows!” 

Dib groaned, that part they hadn’t practiced. “Sure, okay, and who do you work for?”

“Uhhhhhhh” Gir panicked, looking frantically between Dib and Zim. “I work for…” Dib mouthed the answer to it, since no amount of practicing could seem to override its inherent defectiveness. “The Irken Empire.”

“You’re giving him the answers!” Zim snapped. Evidently having formed his own conclusions about the situation. “Thats a really funny joke, trick, play, whatever your two practiced for two hours. You almost had me, too.” Zim stood up straight, crossing his arms, “But Gir isn’t a robot, and he ca—“ Zim stopped abruptly, staring at Gir. 

Confused, Dib turned to look at the robot as well. The robot who was currently being, well, a robot. It had pulled something that could have at one point resembled food from its head. Dib shuddered to think about how long it had been sitting forgotten in there. Gir then proceeded to reveal all of the weapons stored in various locations on its body. A massive cannon protruded from its back, while an array of lasers and guns unfolded from compartments around its midsection. 

Zim gaped, aimlessly reaching out for the chair that had steadied him before. “Its true,” his voice cracked. “My little brother’s a robot…” Dib prepared himself for the worst. He watched carefully for a short, noting every minuscule movement Zim made. 

“My little brother’s a robot!” Zim said again, a wild grin stretching across his face, “This is awesome!” He straightened himself out, running to Gir’s side. The robot thrived in it’s master’s attention. “Do those weapons actually work?” He addressed Gir. 

“Uhh, I haven’t tried them,” Gir scrunched his face up in concentration, “Maybe if I—“ 

There was a blinding flash of light, followed by a wave of unbearable heat. Three voices screamed in chorus and the room was engulfed in smoke. When it finally cleared, there was a massive hole in the wall, leading outside. 

“Yeah, that’s my brother alright.” Zim’s voice was small, he’d been only a few inches away from the blast after all. Dib stared out the hole and into the living room of the house next door. 

Now that the reveal was out, what was next? Dib didn’t feel any closer to restoring the other Irken’s memories. Not to mention the threat of Gir slipping up and telling Zim everything. Maybe he had to get more drastic with his attempts, because after today he only had five more days to complete his mission. 

What if he showed Zim the base?

Chapter Text

Zim woke up, bleary eyed. He’d had the weirdest dream, something about Gir being a dog? It was already fading. Speaking of Gir, though... How on earth would they explain this to Gir’s teacher? ‘Oh, sorry Ms. Reeds, Gir is actually a robot abandoned on Earth by an alien five years ago.’ Yeah. Like that would go over well. He groaned, rubbing at his eyes. They were always so uncomfortable in the mornings, like something was stuck in them. 

Finally rolling out of bed, Zim caught his reflection in the mirror. What if he was a robot? He inspected his hands. He didnt feel like a robot. Do robots feel? He ran a hand through his hair, did it feel like a wig? Or was that just his paranoia? There was a knock at his door. Zim wondered what Gir’s life was like before he was abandoned. That alien must be some real jerk. Another knock. He’d have to call Gir in sick. Maybe he’d stay home as well. God knows he’s going crazy with all of this incessant knocking. 

“What?” Zim finally snapped at the third knock. He already knew it was the alien— Dib, he supposed— Gir would never knock. 

“I—“ The alien sounded confused. Zim threw on a hoodie and some sweatpants, not like he was going to school anyway, and opened the door. Dib was standing there, stunned. 

“Are you going to stand in the way or can I leave my room?” Zim glared up at the alien. Dib was... tolerable. Sometimes. Definitely not before Zim’s morning coffee, though. 

“Yeah, I— Sorry, I’ll move. Out of your way. Sorry.” Dib stumbled over his words, backing out of his way while frantically rustling around in that weird robot pack of his for something or other. Zim honestly didn’t care, closing the door behind him and heading down toward the kitchen.

“Zim!” Dib was jogging to catch up with him. Zim was really not awake enough for this. “Sorry. Again. We’re going the same way.”

“Noted.”

“What are you doing?” The alien certainly was nosy this morning. Watching him like a hawk and noting down his every word. 

“Coffee. Breakfast.” Zim wasn’t about to explain his entire morning routine, especially this early. 

“Right.” Dib scrawled something down on his weirdly high-tech writing tablet. “What is a cow-fee?”

“Cow-fee?” Zim couldn’t help but chuckle, rounding the corner to the kitchen. “Coffee. Caw-fee. Its like...” Zim couldn’t find the words. “It’s a drink. It wakes you up. Gir loves the stuff.” He set a pot up to brew, “I’m not the biggest fan of the taste, but I think I’m a bit addicted. I don’t feel like myself until I’ve had a cup.”

“You’re telling me,” Dib mumbled. Zim was sure he wasn’t supposed to hear that, but he couldn’t help but feel curious. What had the alien so worked up at 7 in the morning? 

He ignored the thought at the beep of his coffee maker. Dib could be dealt with later. Right now he had to—

“Hi master!” Gir had somehow gotten to the piping hot pot of coffee before he did, downing the entire pot in just two gulps. 

“I’m not your... master. God that sounds so weird. Don’t call me that.” Zim snatched the pot back from his brother— no, he chided himself, the robot. Not your brother.

Gir pouted, disappearing back to wherever he came from. It was like the little robot could just pop out of the wall at any moment. Zim glanced around, but couldn’t find Gir anywhere. With a frustrated huff, he put the pot back, setting it up to brew again. 

“So how do you feel about Gir?” Dib was still in the room for some reason, sitting at the table with his tablet in his hand, ready to jot down his response like a tabloid journalist. 

“What do you mean ‘how do I feel about Gir’? Besides the fact that I just found out my little brother is a robot? I think that whoever abandoned the little guy is a world class jerk, first of all.” If Dib wanted to write, Zim would give him something to write. “I’m a little ashamed that I didn’t notice earlier, especially with my amazing observational skills.”

“Right, right, and— NO!—“ Zim jumped at Dib’s shout, nearly spilling his cup of coffee. He sent a well deserved death glare in Dib’s direction.

“What on Earth is it now?”

“I just— I—“ The alien was clearly panicking, trying to think up an excuse for his out of line behaviour. “I wanted to try the— the— cow-fee? Coffee!” Zim raised an eyebrow. He’d read enough sci-fi stories to know this was a bad idea. That didn’t mean some sick part of him didn’t want to try. 

“You? Want to try this?” Zim gestured at the mug in his hand. Amazingly, none of it had spilled onto the floor. He decided it was due to his cat-like reflexes and impeccable balance. 

“Yes? Yes!’ Dib was almost certainly regretting his decision, Zim thought as he allowed himself a grin. He set the mug on the table and nudged it in Dib’s direction. 

“Please, alien. Be my guest.” He watched Dib’s face go through what must have been twenty different emotions. The alien picked up the mug, hand shaking, and brought it to his lips. 

“Actually, I—“ 

“We don’t have all day, Dib.” Zim leaned against the counter. His coffee could wait. This was sure to be entertaining. 

“Right,” Dib sounded defeated, staring at the coffee like it’d killed his mom. Did aliens have parents? Probably. Dib took a hesitant sip and his eyes dilated. Zim smirked, ready for a show. 

“How do you like it?” Dib didn’t reply, taking a gulp of the piping hot liquid. Aliens must have some resistance to heat, for Dib to be able to do that so effortlessly. He made a mental note about that, fire would probably be useless against Dib in the event of a battle. He silently filed that thought away with the other notes he’d made on the alien. 

“I—“ Dib sat frozen like a deer in headlights. Slowly, he set the mug down and turned to look Zim in the eyes— no, Dib was looking into his soul. The alien tried to formulate a sentence, tried to say something. His mouth kept opening and closing like he had no control over it. He looked like a fish. Zim couldn’t help but laugh. 

Suddenly, every thought Dib ever had seemed to be flowing out of him at once. Zim watched, mouth agape, as Dib talked. And talked, and talked, and talked. He was like Gir, if Gir had taken a bottle of Aderall and washed it down with a couple of energy drinks. Zim only caught bits and pieces, none of it made sense. The alien switched languages several times, the only reason Zim even knew this through all the gibberish was that some was at least recognisable. Other bits of his stream of consciousness just sounded like made up words. 

Zim had barely pulled out his phone to start recording when the alien flopped over, nearly falling off of the chair in the process. “Dib?” Zim set his phone on the counter and crept around the table to check on the alien. “Are you... dead?” 

“Rebooting” Zim jumped back, he’d sworn he’d heard that voice before. It seemed to come from the alien’s pack. Dib shook like he’d been electrocuted, and slowly pulled himself back up into the chair with a groan. 

“Never... let me drink that again.” Dib looked exhausted, pushing the mug away. 

“Gladly.” Zim grabbed the mug. Should he drink out of it if the alien did? Would he get some sort of... alien disease? Zim chose to cut his losses and dumped out the remains of the coffee, grabbing a new mug from the cabinet. He snuck a glance at Dib, who was very nearly passed out on the table. He’d abandoned his mission of documenting every second of Zim’s morning, now maybe he could have breakfast in peace. 

~ 

Dib thankfully waited until after breakfast to be weird again. They made casual small talk while Zim drank his coffee and dug into his bowl of Poop! Flakes. Mostly about Earth, the alien seemed to love discussing the sad ball of dirt that Zim called home. Fair enough, he was new, after all. It was only after breakfast that things got weird. Zim had just enough time to call himself and Gir in sick to school before Dib went… off the walls, so to speak.

“What are you doing?” Zim got off the phone with the school. He prided himself in his ability to sound deathly ill on command. Dib was inspecting the toilet. Zim didn’t know why he had a toilet in his kitchen, but damn if it wasn’t convenient on burrito nights. Dib didn’t reply, and Zim made the fatal mistake of going over to see for himself.

Without warning, Dib’s gloved hand snatched Zim’s, and the alien jumped feet first into the toilet, dragging Zim along for the ride. 

He couldn’t really tell what was going on. Were they in the plumbing? Why was the plumbing big enough to fit two people? Or… one teenager and an alien, to be more precise. He could barely think over his own screams, for that matter. The tube spat them out in a cavernous room, and Zim was barely holding onto consciousness. He was pretty sure he was still screaming, as well.

“Zim?” Dib’s voice cut through the screams, or the fog, Zim couldn’t really tell, swaying in and out of consciousness. It was way too early for this. “Zim! You can stop screaming now.

“I—“ Zim tested out his voice. He was sitting on a cold metal floor. Dib was standing over him, hand extended. He swatted away the alien’s hand and heaved himself up, surveying the unfamiliar surroundings. “Where did you take me, alien?” His voice was hoarse.

Dib didn’t respond immediately, choosing instead to walk about the place like he owned it. “This is…”

“Did you… build this under my toilet?”

“Me?” Dib turned around, he looked like he wanted to laugh. “No, I didn’t build this.”

“It certainly looks like something you’d build. It has the same gaudy design language as the little gadgets in your pack.”

“I suppose you’re on the right track…” Dib mused, turning away from Zim again. “Why don’t you have a look around, see if your ‘amazing observational skills’ can help you figure it out.” Dib made his way over to the massive monitor that dominated the room, flopping into the desk chair and watching Zim with those creepy bug eyes of his. Dib’s disguise must have gotten knocked during the ride through the pipes. 

Zim shivered and tried to ignore the alien watching his every move. “‘Amazing observational skills’" He mimicked Dib's voice. "Mocking me, disgusting alien. Even a baby could figure this one out. I mean, look at this!” Zim was still muttering to himself when he came face to boot with a huge robot. It was dusty, and the room was dark, but Zim could make out every detail. 

“The Megadoomer,” he breathed. He didn’t know how he knew what it was called, but it was a suitable name. He ran his hand across it, and his head spiked with pain. Unbearable, unfathomable pain. 

The Megadoomer, Gir! The most powerful stealth robot in the Irken military. Engineered by conquered Vort scientists, actually. They’re filthy.

It’s got chicken legs!

Yes…  

“Chicken legs…” Zim muttered. He found himself on the floor again. His head was pounding. He didn’t know exactly what happened, a freak dream, perhaps? Dib must have seen him collapse, because the alien was standing right next to the Megadoomer’s right foot, tablet in hand once more. No offer to help him up, not that he’d take it. Zim pulled himself up, swaying slightly.

“What was that?” Dib immediately assaulted him with questions. “You fell down, what happened? Did you reme— did you… think? Of something?”

“Lay off, alien,” Zim groaned, leaning against the Megadoomer’s icy metal boot. “I don’t know what happened. I had a migraine, or something.”

“You called it the Megadoomer.” Dib noted, tapping something on the writing tablet with his pen. “Any reason why?”

“I don’t know” Zim massaged his temple. “It seemed fitting. I mean, look at it.” 

Dib looked up at the robot. Not looking completely satisfied, he jotted something down. “That’s it? Nothing else?”

“Yeah, actually— how did you hear me? I barely even whispered it.” 

Zim’s answer came in a flick of Dib’s antennae. That was certainly an explanation. He momentarily wondered if Dib could control the things, or if they just moved of their own volition. It didn’t matter, right now he had to focus on coming down from his world-class headache.

“What about this?” Clearly Dib had other plans, snatching a note off of a workbench. Zim barely registered the piece of paper being shoved in his face, swatting it away on instinct. 

“Can I have a moment to rest?” 

“Sorry I— uh— got carried away.” The note flew to the floor, and Dib’s hand fell to his side. He stood there in the middle of the room, awkwardly. 

“Do you have, I don’t know, some bottled water in that pack of yours? Or something?” Zim groaned, “I can only drink the purified stuff, though. Nasty allergies.” 

“In my PAK? No,” Dib reached back to rummage around regardless. Zim’s vision was swimming, the entire room looked like a modern artwork. Maybe a nap would help his headache…

Zim awoke with a jolt, Dib was pacing in front of him, swearing under his breath. He was lying on a table near the main monitor, tethered down by… something. “What? Alien? What happened?”

“You’re alive!” Dib immediately raced to the table, circling behind him and unlatching… whatever it was that was holding him down. 

“Alive?!” Zim looked around frantically. He’d just been about 20 feet over there, by the Megadoomer. How the hell did he get on this table?

“Awake! I meant awake!” Dib came back around to the front of the table, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have overwhelmed you like that.”

“What did you… do?” The familiar weight of his backpack was gone. Something felt wrong. Seriously wrong. “Where’s my bag?”

“Oh— I had to,” Dib gestured vaguely at an adjacent desk, where the sliced remains of his backpack lay uncerimoniously. Zim wanted to scream. 

“Why on earth did you have to do that?!”

“Because you— I— You were going to—“ 

“Faint! I fainted! I wasn’t going to die, alien! There was no reason to cut off my—“ Zim froze. His hand bushed against a metal dome lodged in his back. His eyes widened. 

“You dirty liar!” Zim jumped up, pointing at Dib with one hand while inspecting the lump with the other.

“I did what I ha— What?” Dib, to his credit, stared down Zim’s accusatory finger. The alien’s giant blue bug-like eyes narrowed in confusion. “What did I lie about?”

“You said you wouldn’t experiment on me! I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you!”

“What did I do?”

Zim didn’t respond, instead choosing to turn around, revealing the metal mass on his back to Dib. All he got was a small “oh.”

“Oh?!” Zim spun around in a circle, frustrated. He turned back to Dib, only a little dizzy. “Oh? Thats all you have to say for yourself? You put one of your alien… things on me, and all you have to say is oh?!”

“I didn’t!” Dib shouted back. “It was there the entire time!”

“What do you mean, the entire time?!” Zim snapped. He was starting to feel lightheaded again. This alien was nothing if not the universe’s biggest source of stress. 

“I should not have said that,” the alien mumbled, head in his hands. “I should not have said tha…” Dib’s voice faded out as the world swam and faded to black once more. Zim couldn’t move as he felt his body crumple back onto the table.

Why did he smell smoke?

Chapter Text

The room was thick with smoke when Zim woke up. His entire body ached and he was once again tethered to a table. He could barely see a foot in front of him, but he could hear Dib rustling around to his left. “Dib?” Zim immediately regretted opening his mouth, hacking smoke out as quickly as it came in. 

Dib came into view, waving smoke out of the way. He looked exhausted. His coat was covered in soot and grease. “Sorry...” The alien sounded genuinely apologetic.

“What the hell happened?” Zim managed to choke out. What had Dib done to create this much of a mess? He tentatively sat up, sending tools clanging to the floor. An unfamiliar weight on his back kept him attached to... something, if not the table. Not that he could see, that is. 

“You almost exploded,” Dib said, matter-of-factly. 

“I almost what?!” Zim let out another round of hacking coughs. “Exploded?!”

“Yeah,” Dib waved the smoke out of his face again. “It was my fault. I promise I’ll explain everything.”

“Why do I doubt that?” Zim wheezed, “Can we at least go back to my house?” 

Dib hesitated for a long while. After nearly two minutes, he nodded, unlatching Zim from the table and grabbing his arm. Zim would tolerate it, if only because he could barely stand, let alone traverse the smokey halls. They eventually found themselves in an elevator, letting only a little bit of smog in with them. 

The elevator let them out in Zim’s living room. Why he had an elevator to a maze-like alien laboratory in his living room was beyond him, but hopefully that was something Dib would answer. 

“Finally,” Zim collapsed on the couch. Familiarity. “Explain, alien.”

“A ‘Thank you’ for saving your life would be nice.”

“I can’t thank you if I don’t know what you did. The last...” Zim glanced outside and decided it was mid-afternoon. “Few hours, have been sort of a blur.”

“Okay. First of all, I need you to take some deep breaths. Focus on your breathing, not on my words.” Dib was really playing doctor now. Zim shut his mouth and glared at the alien. “Unless you want to explode for real this time,” Dib continued, perching himself on the coffee table. “Please?” he added, exasperatedly. 

“Fine,” Zim let out the breath he’d been holding, “But only because I couldn’t hold my breath much longer.”

~

“What do you mean, the entire time?!” Zim snapped. Dib paled, realising what he’d said. He should have just played the experiment angle. Zim was swaying again, but Dib was just out of reach to catch the smaller Irken. 

“I should not have said that,” Dib mumbled, head in his hands. He was not about to watch Zim fall to the ground. All of his work... “I should not have said that!” A thud resounded around the room as Zim’s body crumpled back onto the table. The invader’s eyes were glazed over and a small but noticeable tendril of smoke snaked out of the overloaded PAK. 

“This is what you get for reducing the power levels of your PAK so drastically, Zim.” Dib was frantically searching through drawers and cabinets for the tools he needed. Why was nothing labeled?! “What am I going to do?” He muttered to himself, laying out the tools he had found on the table where Zim’s lifeless body was laying. 

He had almost no experience working on PAKs. The closest he got was those prototype spider-legs he was using. The only conceivable way he could think to save Zim would be to restore full power, and therefore full functionality, to the PAK. A risky move, but better than just letting him explode. He set to work.

Smoke began to fill the room from the malfunctioning PAK. He managed to pry it off and get it open with more than a little force. Ten minutes to restore full power. Simple, Dib lied to himself, Anyone could do it. All he had to do was comple—

~

“Why did you only have ten minutes?” Zim interrupted. He was lying on his stomach now, his right hand aimlessly running across the PAK. Dib couldn’t fault him, it was sort of new to him after all. 

“That's how long you can survive without your PAK.”

“Survive?” Zim paled, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, the PAK is sort of like a… brain. Or something. We have brains too, and organs. But the PAK is what makes you, well, you.”

“What does that matter to survival?” Zim had dug his hand under the PAK, lifting it ever so slightly off of his back. Dib fought the urge to get him to stop. What was the worst that could happen?

“I don’t… exactly… know.” Dib furrowed his brow. “I think it’s got something to do with sustenance. Like if you went a few weeks without eating?” Dib shrugged, “Sort of like that, but ten minutes without your PAK and it’s game over.”

Zim paused. The PAK was about an inch off of his back now. He craned his head back to look at the metal lump and visibly shuddered, pulling his hand back and letting the device secure itself back onto him. 

“So why do I have one? I’m not an alien. I might be a robot, though. The jury’s still out on that one.”

“Hold on, I’m getting to that part,” Dib sighed, this was going to be rough. 

~

All Dib had to do was locate and completely disassemble the entire power supply mechanism. And then he would have to reassemble it with the proper components in place to ensure full power usage. Child’s play, really. 

As he worked, his mind strayed. How had Zim gotten it to such a low power state in the first place? How was he surviving with just the bare minimum? He got the PAK open, finally. He rummaged through it, standard invader gear. There was a remote item replacement unit, he hadn’t seen one of those in years. Zim also had a long-range communication transmitter like he suspected, which was significantly bigger than Dib’s short-range one. 

He dumped the contents of the PAK out and looked inside again for any sort of maintenance hatch. There had to be something right? He felt around and his finger finally caught on a latch. That had to be it. He flipped it open and carefully pulled out the components he found inside. How much time did he have?

~

“So there’s stuff in this thing?!” Zim interrupted again. 

“Can I tell my story or not?” Dib adjusted himself. This short table wasn’t exactly the most comfortable seat in the house. “Besides, you saw mine. It had stuff inside.”

“Yeah but, like—“ Zim’s hand returned to the PAK, searching now for the entrance to the storage compartment. “I’m not supposed to have one. Why would it have stuff?”

“Because you—“ Dib groaned, stretching. His back popped as he did so. Zim finally figured out how to open the PAK, and a click echoed through the mostly silent room. 

“This is awesome” Zim breathed, shoving his hand into the PAK’s storage compartment. 

“WAIT!” Dib all but screamed, launching himself off of the table and onto Zim, who squirmed under the unexpected weight. 

“What!?” Zim squeaked out, wrestling his arm out from underneath Dib and glaring up at him. 

“If you let me tell my story,” Dib closed the PAK with a sigh, and weakly slid off of the couch and onto the floor. Saving Zim from himself was evidently a full-time job. “Then you would know why recklessly rummaging around in that thing is incredibly dangerous.”

“Fine, tell me. Skip the boring parts.”

“The boring parts are necessary, Zim.”

~

Skipping the “boring parts”, Dib had finally gotten the power module reconfigured. Sure, it was messy. The soldering was definitely not his best work, and his cable management was abysmal, to say the least. It certainly didn’t help that smoke was filling the room faster than Dib could work. He figured at least some of the circuitry was fried, but he couldn’t be sure until he tested it. Speaking of which…

His ten minutes were nearly up, so Dib haphazardly shoved the power supply back into the PAK. He tossed the gear back in as well and closed it up. If Dib had done everything correctly, it should automatically reconnect itself to Zim. He waited. 

Dib had to wait a few seconds longer than he would’ve liked, but eventually metal cords snaked themselves out of the PAK and found their way back into Zim. Coiling around his spine, they quickly retracted, securing the PAK back onto the tiny Irken. 

It took nearly a minute for the thing to reboot. Thankfully it wasn’t emitting smoke anymore. Something had to be fried, though. It shouldn’t take this long to perform a simple restart. Even operating on low power it had been quicker that first day. 

Zim didn’t wake up after the PAK rebooted. Dib decided to give it five minutes before he panicked. He checked the invader’s vitals, made sure he was breathing. It was all good, so Dib assumed it had to be lag associated with a broken component, or the body readjusting to having a fully functional PAK attached to it. 

Fears dissuaded, Dib allowed his thoughts to stray again. Namely to this morning. It had been quite the shock to hear Zim sleepily slurring his words between Irken and English when he woke up. Without the PAK’s full functionality, he supposed it wasn’t regulating his language output. Hence the cow-fee, or whatever Zim had called it. Caffeine and sleep seemed to be suitable replacements for power. 

Speaking of power— the PAK definitely needed charging. He plugged it into a convenient cord on the desk. Only moments later, Zim finally woke up. Dib wondered if that had been the issue the whole time. With one problem solved, Dib set about returning the tools to whence they came, while Zim blearily opened his eyes.

~ 

“And you know the rest,” Dib shrugged, “You woke up and started coughing. We came up here and I promised to explain everything.”

Zim was still lying on his stomach. Dib hadn’t bothered to get off the floor, finding the carpet much more comfortable than the table. The two were eye to eye, and Zim looked completely… irritated. Not the emotion he expected.

“You did not just tell me I have to charge this thing.”

“Very rarely,” Dib wasn’t sure if Zim’s focus on the details was a blessing or a curse. At least he hadn’t exploded. Again. “Usually while you sleep. Unless you don’t sleep, that is.” Dib thought back to his days in the academy, regularly pulling all-nighters to finish all of his homework. “I imagine you’ve done so before, without realising it.”

“I feel like I would know if I was.”

“Not if you’re asleep,” Dib reminded him. “Regardless, that’s why you shouldn’t go rustling around in there. In my haste, I never closed the maintenance hatch. You’ve essentially got an exposed, fully charged power supply that easily could have killed you with barely a touch. 

Zim shuddered, finally sitting up. Dib took the cue to stand and walked to the other side of the table. “I… don’t understand. You said I have all of this alien tech in my house, that I’ve got it on my back. You told me my brother was a robot. How did I not—“ Zim paused, looking Dib in the eye, almost fearfully. “Am I an alien?” 

How should he respond to that? Yes? Should he lie? No, you just happen to have all of this stuff in an insane coincidence. Zim looked damn near terrified. “Zim…” Dib fiddled with the holo disguise unit. His appearance rapidly flickered between human and Irken. “Just… stew in it. Come to your own conclusions. Take your time.”

“So I am?”

“That’s not… necessarily… what I’m saying.” Dib’s squeedilyspooch tightened. He was not about to go through the repair process again. “Think about it,” he repeated. “Let me know what you come up with.”

“I have thought about it!” Zim hopped off the couch, frustratedly pacing across the living room. “A. It doesn’t help that you keep fiddling with that thing. You’re going to give me a seizure AND an identity crisis.” Dib took his hand off the holo disguise unit almost on impulse. “And B. You gave me an entire ten-minute story about how you had to fix the alien device that’s attached to my spine in an alien laboratory that’s been hidden beneath my house for years! Either I’m a robot, an alien, or the victim of the world’s cruelest joke.”

“Please don’t overreact,” Dib’s voice was weak. The stress of the past day— the past few days— was finally getting to him. “I really don’t want to go through all of that again.”

“And another thing!” Zim rounded on him, staring him down with what must have been days of pent-up frustration. “I’m sick of you telling me to calm down! What’s that about? I’m allowed to get frustrated!”

“Not about this,” Dib sighed. What if he just showed Zim the video? It would explain everything… “Five years ago you—“

“Stop that! You’re talking about me like you know me more than I know me. Five years ago I was in sixth grade, in Ms. Bitter’s class. I was a normal kid then, and I’m a normal kid now. I think.” Zim massaged his temples. “My point is—“ Zim narrowed his eyes. He stared at Dib like he was a stranger. 

“Are you okay?” Dib hesitantly reached out across the coffee table. If the Irken fell over again, there was no way he’d be able to catch him. But it was the thought that counted, right?

“That… was weird.”

“What?”

“Nothing! Nothing,” Zim shook his head, “My point is, uhh, thanks. I guess. For saving my life. I guess.”

“But you were just— I thought—“

“Nevermind that,” Zim’s brows were still furrowed in confusion. Dib began to wonder if there was more wrong with the PAK than he initially expected. “I seem to recall you offering me a spaceship ride.”

“Are you serious? Right now?” That was a horrible idea. One of the worst, even. 

“No, you can take your time, I don’t know. Prepare yourself. Or whatever.” Zim’s eyes were unfocused. Whatever was going on with him, Dib wanted to restore his memories sooner rather than later. At least Zim would be able to fix his own PAK then, if he was able to alter it before. 

“I’ll think about it. Take some time to rest, you just had two near death experiences, after all.”

“Whatever you say,” Zim shrugged, sitting back down on the couch. He stared at the blank TV, intently watching the pitch-black screen. Dib shook his head and retreated to the kitchen. Far enough away that he didn’t feel creeped out by Zim’s odd behavior, but close enough to jump into action should something malfunction in a deadly way.