A/N: No, I don't know what this means.
Disclaimer: I don't own Invader Zim, which is, in all probability, a Very Good Thing.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As usual, his father's lab was cold.
The dark-haired boy looked up at the professor, who towered over him - a thin but imposing man, distant in his lab coat and goggles.
The man swabbed Dib's bare arm with antiseptic. He drew a syringe from a coat pocket. Gently, the boy's father slipped the needle into a vein, emptying the contents of the syringe into Dib's bloodstream.
There was hardly a sting from it; the tiny wound was swabbed again and taped before the boy knew it. This had been happening for a long time. He'd known what to expect.
But not why it was happening.
Dib rolled down his coat sleeve, swallowing. And finally, he worked up the courage to ask. 'Um...Dad...?'
His father's hand paused above the waste receptacle. 'Yes?'
The man's seeming impassiveness wasn't making it any easier - the masking effects of his clothing made it difficult for even his own children to read him, or even feel able to approach him. But Dib knew that if he didn't ask now, he might never be able to.
The boy looked up at his father. 'I...was wondering. What are the injections for, Dad?' he blurted.
The hand holding the syringe trembled, just at the edge of the boy's vision. 'Son...'
Dib heard the man take a ragged breath, saw him release the syringe and heard it fall into the receptacle with a clatter.
And then, the unexpected - the professor removed his goggles with a twitch of his left hand, and cupped Dib's cheek with his right.
He smelled of latex and chemicals - of father - and Dib was so startled that he almost pulled away. But the clear, grey eyes staring into his own drew him forward. Neither of them spoke for a long, long moment - and afterwards, the boy would have sworn, had anyone bothered to ask him, that he could hear his father's heart in the silence.
'Son, I...I'll tell you when you're older,' the man whispered finally, his voice still unsteady. 'You're just going to have to trust me until then.'
Dib nodded without taking his eyes from his father's. And he would later have sworn, too, that he could see the gleam of unshed tears in the man's eyes; and that he could feel the man's hand tremble on his cheek.
