Saving Zim by Dib07

Summary:

"Zim! Listen to me! I'm not here to hurt you! Or cut you open! Please understand! I'm trying to save you!"

Warnings:

Zim Angst. Violence, language and distressing scenes.

Blocks of text in italics means that it's a flashback.

Disclaimer:

I do not own the IZ characters. However this story and this idea is mine.

A/N:

I have to say I absolutely LOVE replying to you guys, whether in messages, emails or reviews. Sadly, as of the last few weeks I haven't had a lot of time to sit down and unwind with you all, but the summer holidays in the UK are now over, my dearest family have gone back to work and now I am back. I am getting to you all as quick as I can! It's gonna take awhile to get down the list, but I will get there! :)

I've mushed these 2 chapters together once again, so don't worry if it looks like I'm skipping chapters, I'm not. I'm trying really hard to make sure all is now included, and that, by joining up shorter chapters, you won't have to wait as long for all 50 in 50 separate instalments. :)

Dear Rhian, I hope you have read and are enjoying/enjoyed the last chapter. I understand how much of a pain it is when there is no internet or when you're busy (I know exactly what that's like! Phew boy!) I hope all is well and that you are still devouring this as I hash it out!

P.S Piratemonkies64, was it you who said that Gir's wild programing couldn't just be random? That you swore there was a reason? Well, gosh, here's your answer (it's so hard for me to keep secrets!)

Gosh, is that everything? Okay! Let's go!

Guest

Hi there! Here's another update to hopefully keep you topped up until next week! :)

Laurie

Hhaha! What a lovely review! Thanks, I'm glad I've been able to successfully (thus far) make such an unusual tale that kind of turns things round quite a lot and makes it well... different. I'm very happy you have found this story, and I hope you continue to enjoy it, despite the differences. It is not something we're used to, I agree. And yes, the Tallest are monsters! It's ironic you wrote that, because well, you're gonna get another little glimpse into their motives. It might explain a few things! XD

Laurie (Out of the Game)

Omg you read one of my older classics! I hate and love this story! Hahaha! Yes, it does end on such a tragic, and sudden note. The hardest part was leaving it there, as you might have already guessed. Thank you for liking the way I write Zim and Dib. I try my hardest, and try to remain proud of what I manage to accomplish.

Anon

THANK YOU! You are so sweet! Hopefully this chapter is a little more positive (though I say that timidly), but there's some really AMAZING stuff yet to come!

Guest

Zim's too hardcore. He'll be fine! XD (I hope)

Moops

Lol. I think that is EXACTLY what Dib is thinking, and has been thinking for the last 2 chapters! XD

CHAPTER 25 (29+30): Human Consequences

Far out in space, where the stars were but a cold consolation to all those lost to the infinity, the Massive marched ever onwards in front of its war fleet. Tallest Red was lounging before a great screen that depicted footage of his drones, either in real-live combat, or in their training as he could toggle between each camera feed. Some of the lower class Irkens were mining a planet for resources to further the war effort while still others were in the process of being tortured for past crimes or minor volitions. Red was drinking down Vortian blood in a tall crystal glass. He had his feet up; tiny feet though he had, and because he hated to touch the 'filthy' ground even whilst resting, he had a lower class Irken hunch below him as a living stool for him to put his feet up.

Tallest Purple came into the room, head low, one hand straddled behind his back, and he clicked his fingers impatiently. "Where's my stool? Huh? Huh?"

At once an Irken on standby hurried forwards and threw herself down on her hands and knees, shivering where she knelt in awe and fear. Purple got into his High Seat and placed his small feet behind her PAK.

"I love being the Tallest." Red stated affably, draining his glass and lifting it for a refill. A decorous Irken officer came and refilled it from a crystal jug, and he gave Purple a fresh glass as well.

"Me too! Me too!" Purple concurred happily, toothily grinning. He had never thought about it much before; the privilege of their position, because they were seemingly born into it, and had no reason to be grateful. For the rank had simply fallen straight into their lap. "Hey, you!" Purple sniped, challenging the officer who had just poured them the drinks, "Where's the smeet meal I asked for? It has to be fresh! Understand? Why has it not arrived?"

The officer bowed, "I shall get some at once! My sincerest apologies my Tallest!" And he practically ran to the door.

Purple looked to where the officer had left for a moment, sure he would re-appear in 5 seconds with a plate of delicacies. But Red distracted him by saying. "We're the best leaders the Armada ever had! We've conquered Ajax 18, we've obliterated about a hundred moons, and we've vanquished Unta and... and... some others that I don't remember the names of. But there was a lot of 'em! We should celebrate for all our hard work and throw a BIG party!"

"I love parties!" Purple agreed at once, because he really did love parties. It was in fact, all he and Red did. Party.

"There's also something ELSE we should be celebrating." Red slyly reminded him, draining half of his Vortian drink with one huge swallow. He awkwardly planted his heel on the back of his Irken 'stool's' neck, causing the drone to whimper in pain. "Shut up!" He yelled, and smacked the Irken's head with his claws.

"Oooh, and what's that?" He asked, an eternal lover of good news, especially if it was news that further supplied their lavish needs and fancies.

"We haven't heard from Zim in ages. I think he may be dead. Our slight modification in his SIR unit may have done just the trick we were hoping for."

"Really? No! No! I couldn't hope for such good news! It just doesn't happen!"

"Yes, and with him out of the way, the Armada, our very cause is no longer threatened! We've saved our species, our legacy, by taking him out of the picture! He's such a royal fuck up that doing it ourselves may have been more costly than I was prepared for. He has this... knack you see. For killing Irkens. For killing Tallest. I knew that once we couldn't have him killed in the Trial, old age might surely get him. But even that was taking too long. So I had to speed things up a notch."

"What exactly did we do? I try to dump everything concerning Zim out of my PAK's memory processor. It's such a waste of data!" Purple confessed.

"You are simply not cunning enough, my good comrade." Red said, grinning wolfishly as he cradled his glass in his two claws. But then his smile dropped all too suddenly, and his visage twisted into a dark rage. "I was so... ANGRY when he just walked out of the tribunal, all smiling, so happy! He had bested us, without even trying! It made me so sick. He knew what he had done, knew he had turned it around, and he knew what we had tried to do to him in return. He had murdered all those Irkens, Purple! All those Irkens! And he walked away!"

"And those Tallest!"

"Exactly! He had tricked the control brains somehow too, and, as his reward, he got to play around with our flag ship as if it was a mere toy! He had to be stopped. But... he had the luck of the devil. Misfortune seemed to follow all those who had ever stepped into his path."

"And?" Purple asked, looking at him with some passing curiosity.

"I shook his hand upon departure, and touched his PAK on its underside to plant the CPU chip. Don't you remember? You made some of the modifications in that chip."

"I did..." Purple bowed his head slightly in reverie. "I made it for the enemy warships."

"Originally, yes. And I adapted it to effect SIR units. It was a last ditch effort. I didn't think it would work. Power surges or refluxes are required to activate the CPU chip. It damages the modulator units and some other stuff that I can't be bothered to get into. But when he started sending in reports about his SIR unit malfunctioning, it didn't click straight away. I just thought it was another trick he was conceiving. He is a smart, murderous bastard."

"You think Zim is... SMART?" And Purple burst out laughing.

Red laughed too. His heels clacked in his Irken stool's back, causing him to groan miserably. "We should have done something like this ages ago!"

"He'll never find the CPU ship either!" Purple giggled. "Simple, itty bitty drones have no idea how their PAKs work! They weren't important enough to be given the training!"

"Thank Irk!" Red gathered himself. "You know, we should have just nuked his base, or... or instructed him to give birth to a hundred smeets, or... or delivered some fake Irken-virus-thingy to his doorstep. Now the thorn in our collective side is finally working itself loose! We are free of him!"

"Should we check?" Purple asked. "I mean, we can't really celebrate until we know if he's actually dead or not. I don't want nightmares, Red! We have to be sure!"

"Fine! Fine!" He spoke to the big screen: "Show us live feed from Zim's co-ordinates at once!"

The screen showed a misshapen, dishevelled lounge full of laser burn marks and bullet holes. A curtain was torn loose from its railing over the far window, and the sofa was covered in bits of plaster. Gir was watching them, or rather, the TV as he feasted from an open bag of nachos. There was no sign of Zim.

"This is boring." Purple said listlessly. "Check his last report of his statistics, or his PAK condition, I don't care! Just hurry it up!"

Red cycled through various other cameras, but all the rest were blocked off. They only could view the lounge.

Finally, Red had Zim's data and latest mission reports dispensed into a readable format from the overhead computer. Purple watched his fellow Tallest read it, as he hadn't the stomach to read the data himself. He was too concerned about other more important matters such as food and comfort. But Red must have found something, for he smiled in supreme relief, folded up the laminated paper and tore it up in his claws.

"He's as good as finished. All his vitals are in the red. He will be a menace no longer!"

"Yay for us!" Purple threw up his glass. "Let's have a toast! To Zim!"

"To Zim!" Red heartily agreed. And they toasted their success.

xxx

Zim had been angry when Dib had suggested they go to the 'Treaty' from now on. To meet, in public? Before a hundred smelly, degenerate dumb humans? Zim had a mind to think that it was because Dib was afraid of him now, ever since the clash after school behind that brick wall alley with the wire.

Zim had sat on the sofa, procrastinating, while his sleek claws played on the keyboard of his Irken laptop. Beside him, standing menacingly erect on the floor were the leg braces. Zim tried not to steal a look at them, for doing so always elicited a dirty sneer on his face, and a throaty growl, but he couldn't help but look at them, and hate them.

He had made up his mind to hurt Dib. Maybe not now, and maybe not for the short term, but he would select his revenge at the right time, and get Dib at his most vulnerable somehow. He could not help himself. He had known cruelty. It had been beaten into him at a young age: an age of ruined past and tattered hope where, in the pain and half forgotten terrors, new iron purpose was beaten and forged into him, as molten heat and hammer forged a new blade. He was still fleeing from his past demons, and the pain, even now. Yes, it would always be a perpetual flight in his mind, and through the cold corridors within, there were always dark corners of madness waiting to snare him back down. And snare him they did. It was a madness that twisted him up inside, and he could never find the strength to expel the manifested horrors of his past. And he ran from it: ran from the ruin and the torment but his strength lied within. And he daren't go down there himself, to see what he was made of. To see what real horrors he had locked down there.

He went to clutch at the vial which he had, on occasion wore in his pre-emptive battle with Dib which, never turned out to be a battle at all. Just an all-out-defeat he still self-scolded himself for. When he went to snag at the vial, his claws snagged on air.

Gir threw his bouncy ball hard across the lounge floor and it rocketed against the opposite wall, rebounding back almost into Zim's laptop. "Gir! Stop bouncing that thing around! I can't hear my own plans circulating in my HEAD!"

"Sooorry." Gir said in an almost suggestively sarcastic manner.

Zim went back to his laptop, eyes squinting at the data he was presented with. After a moment he blinked tiredly, stretched and yawned.

Gir, holding the rubber ball under one arm, sat with him on the sofa. "What you are up to?" He asked in his high sing-song voice.

The laptop was full of analytical data on the Northern scope of America. Zim was currently assessing Montana from his own satellite images. "I must plan my next plan. Dib has another thing coming if he thinks one little promise is going to stop me."

"It's a BAD idea." Gir helpfully interjected.

"But it's a great idea! If I do a little bit of evil somewhere else in this filthy place they call 'Ameri-ka' the Dib-fool can't possibly know about it. I'm so crafty!" And he rubbed his gloved claws together, liking that he would and could develop his plans and work elsewhere without restraint. Dib would not like it, but only IF he found out about it. And Zim did not intend for him to find out.

"I'll be cold. And baaad."

"Oh shut up, Gir! You like snow! Besides... I have plans and I'M going to make this work! I'm going to... going to..." He stopped short and turned to his SIR unit. "Do you think that I should forgive him, Gir?"

Gir shrugged his little shoulders. "Forgive him for what?"

"Exactly, Gir. Exactly."

Zim?

Zim?

x

Zim huffed annoyingly. The elaborate dreamscape was ripping away, revealing the grime of reality and the pain beneath. He squinted his eyes even more firmly shut to retreat back into the safety of dreams, but the nudges on his shoulder just grew more antagonistic.

Already the memory of the dream was collapsing like weak walls, and he didn't want to face the short future he was dealt with. Training had prepared him for much. But when it came to accepting your own conclusive death, that part of the training had been a grey area.

"Zim? Hey. I bought you a drink."

Zim gave another dull groan and he opened his eyes. The lanky figure of Dib seemed to fill his whole vision. He was fuzzy and dark. Zim blinked a few times and the world went into sharp focus. Confused, he looked around, realizing that he had been resting his heavy head on his arms.

"You fell asleep." Dib patiently explained from where he stood.

Zim jerked upright. He was sitting in his chair, at the main screen console. He must have got tired and fallen asleep by the keyboard panel.

"Don't get mad." Dib continued gently. "Rest is good for you. It's just that... we gotta fast track things if we wanna sort Gir out and help you."

Zim looked up at him for the first time. The middle aged investigator held a Styrofoam cup in one hand, and a very ugly jacket in the other. The jacket in question hung from Dib's fingers like a dead skin. It was stitched in many places. Dib, taking in Zim's questioning look, placed the jacket about his shoulders. The alien held himself rigid as Dib had just placed a bucket of thorns on him instead.

"You don't remember, do you?" He said. Zim caught the air of disappointment in Dib's voice. "I cut up one of my spare jackets and stitched it together for you to wear. To keep you... warm." There was quiet between them. Thinking quickly, to try and dispel the unseen but very evident tension, Dib pressed the Styrofoam cup forwards. "Here. Please take it. It's coffee. With some... painkillers mixed in. Under your computer's supervision of course."

Zim reached out to take the cup and Dib, feeling like some weight had been lifted off his shoulders, gladly gave it.

But Zim clearly wasn't done. He eyed Dib up and down clinically, as if he was evaluating a recently released criminal, and he was looking for the psychotic twitch in the human's eyes and in his fingers.

"I like that jewel around your neck. Where'd you get it from?" Zim tried to act casual about it, even going so far as to lean his cheek against the palm of his claws, his elbow on the desk. But the mean spitefulness was deeply seated in his dark eyes, as real and as terrifying as bullets in a gun.

"Oh... urm..." Dib flinched, for he had largely forgotten about the vial, so worried he had been about the ramifications of Gir, the hostile security system and Zim's bad health. "I was... urm... looking after it." It was all he could come up with, on the spot.

Zim looked him up and down idly for another cold moment that felt like an eternity to Dib. Finally, his excess of violence seemed to drain, for he had no heart for it. "I don't care how you obtained it. Just destroy it."

"E-Excuse me?"

"What? You want me to REPEAT myself? Throw it away! Pitch it down a drain; I don't care how you do it! Just be rid of it!"

Zim usually enjoyed seeing Dib squirm, and get all confused when all other alternatives had run dry. Now though, he was just tired. "But... but Gir said it was m-medicine!"

Admittedly, it perked him up a little. And he chuckled. Once. "Medicine? Eh. What a waste that would be. No, no it's nothing like that." He felt a great bubble of discomfort press against his insides, and his eyes burned with the pain. He coughed, took a deep breath that only fed the fire in his chest, and said: "What were we talking about?"

"Uh... the vial?"

"Oh yes! That! Just... just do us both a favour and drop it into the ocean. Now... where were we?"

"Capturing Gir?"

Zim looked to the main view screen, and at the last recording he must have been viewing before sleep took him. It was a frozen image of Dib in the Irken's locker room. Because he could not remember what it was he had seen, he hit the rewind button and hit PLAY. From the surveillance footage, they both watched as Dib in the recording went into Zim's wardrobe and started pulling apart all of his clothing. This was recorded ten hours ago.

Dib watched on, sweating. He smiled nervously. "Yeah. I had no idea you had a camera in there. I suppose you have one in your bathroom too, huh?" Because he had taken a leak in there.

Zim watched, evidently not liking what he was seeing. The recorded video showed Dib searching through each uniform, and taking them apart. Looking into each pair of gloves. Examining each tunic and sleeve. Then, much to Zim's dull surprise, Dib began to pull out little black devices from these clothes, and was throwing them into a pile.

Zim placed the untouched Styrofoam cup on the console in order to rub at his chest. "I'd like a fucking explanation."

A drop of sweat trickled down Dib's temple and into his left eye, causing him to wince from the sting. "I disarmed your uniforms. All of them. I had to. You tried to blow yourself up. I realize I've overstepped your rules or whatever, but..."

"You don't have the right." Zim spoke in a shrill whisper.

"Look. No more bullshit, Zim. I am done with this carousel. We both know how we really feel about each other."

"Do we?"

Dib's eyes skirted left and right for a moment, as if unsure of his own self. "Yes."

"Dib. If I wasn't old, if there was no promise made, you'd kill me. And I you."

Dib stalled. Then he looked away. He could not argue with that.

"When I went to Montana on that day... in that blizzard..."

"You don't need to talk about that. I knew why you were up there, Zim."

"But you said nothing!"

"I didn't need to say anything. You meant to continue your mission. But ultimately, you didn't. Now we've gone too far together to back out. We used the promise as just an excuse for this so-called truce. But really, we're friends now. And friends trust each other. I've had your back. And you've had mine. But Gir is a very real threat, not just to us, but to hundreds of people out there! So what if I'm saving you? You'd save me! And we have to collaborate! If we don't, Gir will escape this base and do more damage! You must overcome your fear of me!"

"And you must conquer your fear of me as well." Zim replied calmly.

Dib hesitated again, and it was clear to the Irken that there was a whole lot more he wanted to say.

Little did Zim know that the recordings of Clara in his base were all stored and ready to be accessed. But he did not know this.

Because Dib was still hesitating, Zim spoke. "So? Do you have any stupid ideas?"

"For your PAK, at least. I printed off its schematics... I think I've found a way to repair it."

But the Irken shook his head, looking sickened at Dib's suggestion. "There's no time! Gir must be fixed! I c-can wait!"

When Dib went to rest a hand on his shoulder, Zim flinched away, growling softly. "Enough with the work obsession! You can't do everything yourself!"

"But... But I NEED c-code 219! Without it... without it..."

"What even is code 219? You've been deliriously repeating it over and over!"

Zim then eyed him bitterly, as if Dib was making that part up. "It's uh... uh..."

"You can tell me! I'm with you on this one! Why else have I been struggling, and bending over backwards to help you?"

"You've... y-you've been bending over backwards? Doesn't that hurt?"

Dib shook his head. "What is 219?"

"It's a code. A regulation. The Tallest need to grant me it to repair Gir."

"Okay, okay. But that sounds so stupid! Why don't you just ask your leaders for help?"

Zim just looked at him blankly. The claws were gripping at his chest again.

Dib had to get around this somehow. "If I help you capture Gir, will you agree to come with me to my dad's lab?"

Zim sucked in a huge breath, and he looked utterly terrified as if he had just woken from a nightmare.

"I rescued you from that wire." He explained mildly, "You really think I'd be throwing you to the wolves now?"

"I... I don't LIKE this!"

"Neither do I, Zim. But if we don't do this, something is going to give. And it just might be your heart."

As Dib suspected, Zim blatantly discounted this information as if it was relevant to someone else. Someone not Irken. "Pah! I am an Irken Elite! I can withstand anything. Don't you fo-forget it!"

"What if we seal it with a deal? If I help you with Gir, then I want you to promise that you'll come see my dad for repairs. AND that you don't use your PAK for anything. No tools, no leg things! No nothing! Are we clear?" Dib spread his fingers and offered his hand for Zim. Cementing a deal with a handshake was pretty dumb when it came to negotiating with an alien when such a gesture could not possibly apply to their loyalty.

Zim growled.

"Look at it more as a symbiosis." Dib helpfully added. "It happens in nature all the time."

When the Elite only sat there, looking frostbitten and angry, the investigator sadly withdrew his hand.

Zim sunk back, drained.

"Dib. Go to that tray on the left. Push the button."

"What? This tray?" Dib approached what appeared to be a medical work table in his right. But its lower drawers were more like activation hatches. And they were all glowing seemingly from within.

"Y-Yes! Pull open that one there!"

Dib did so, hackled when he had to follow Zim's casual instructions: simply because the old Irken had thin patience and if he got it wrong, the alien would promptly explode.

He opened the little tray, and out popped various syringe-like capsules, all tidily lined up neatly in dozens of rows, and they were all chilled. He removed one and waved it in Zim's direction. "You're after this?"

"Yes, yes! Bring it over here!"

"Not until you tell me what it does."

This clearly tipped the alien over the edge. "You GIVE that to me, right NOW! You are not my Tallest you piece of rubbish!"

Dib hesitated. Then brought it over and dumped it in Zim's awaiting claws.

Neatly, as if he was applying a band aid to his skin, Zim docked the tip of the syringe into his pale green neck, and seconds later he was smiling, and letting loose a big, hearty sigh.

"Was that... another painkiller?" Dib had to ask, knowing Zim already had a dose too many.

"It's rinauh." Zim replied curtly. "It's... it's... nice." And his dopey smile broadened, his right antenna peeling right back.

"You mean... it gives you a buzz? Jesus! How strong is that stuff?" He peered back at the rest of the syringes.

"Pick up a dozen and p-put them in your pocket for later, all right?" Zim said, his smile fading fast. He was waiting to see if his human would obey him. But Dib was already packing the stuff into his coat pocket to ensure he wouldn't cause anymore tantrums on the Irken's part.

But, he traded his compliance with a question. "Zim. How'd that piece of metal get inside you? It was obviously from Gir, so don't lie to me about that. I put two and two together. That, and the computer determined its origin."

"I... I fe-fell down some s-stairs."

Dib ignored this little rehearsed speech Zim liked to insist upon when he was cornered. "Did Gir... did Gir stab you?"

Zim's fuchsia eyes were looking elsewhere. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"He stabbed you. And you didn't come to me for help. In fact I don't think you knew, did you? Why else were you walking around with a limp for the better part of a week, while an infection festered away in your insides? Why didn't you use the autodoc yourself? In fact, why didn't you come to me?"

How up-to-date Dib was with certain things distressed the Irken.

"Because I'm strong!" Zim spat acerbically, swinging round to face him in the chair. "Because I am ZIM! You want reasons? Those are reasons! An invader must be above all danger! Must be healthy and fit! Going to the autodoc or YOU would be like admitting a fault in my combat regulations! And the Tallest would know about it! I could not deviate from the mission! The Tallest need me to fight! I cannot fail them! I... I didn't want them to know that I'm... that I'm..."

Dying.

Zim, there is no mission! Dib wanted to say this, and honestly, he nearly did. But he clamped his mouth shut. If he truly wanted to destroy Zim's mentality, then sure, he could go ahead and tell him what he possibly already knew. But there could be a deeper reason. Zim might just fear the autodoc, and instead come up with false excuses to refrain from seeing his own organs deteriorate.

Dib sighed and because Zim had made no move to do so, he casually slipped Zim's arms into the make-shift jacket and buttoned him up. "Fine, space monster. You've made your point."

xxx

"Look. We're not going to go far. We can't in your condition."

He knew Zim would ignore his critical advice. Zim was pretty good at ignoring 'critical advice' even if it was totally in his benefit. He had done it when Dib was a kid, and now, even in his elderly years he still did it without a hitch. "Don't be a fool, Dib worm! This will be easier than plucking the wool from a saunpus! Besides, when I've taken rinauh, I am more than capable."

Zim did not deploy his spider PAK legs this time and he walked with a bad limp. So far they had gone up the conduit and into the kitchen. The sun was shining through, and its warm sunny light highlighted the empty lounge. There was no Gir.

"Computer!" Zim croaked. "Detect Gir's signature! Is he in the base?"

"Negative, Master."

Zim growled and checked the front door. "You left it unlocked?" He shouted at Dib who was two steps behind him. The painkillers were obviously making him feel a lot better.

"Hey, it's not me that has the insane robot!"

Zim screamed out weakly in rage, only to splutter with watery-sounding coughs. He dipped down on his knees until he was leaning against the sofa, crestfallen. Then he started to itch at his glued wound by racking his claws up and down the left side of the jacket.

"Don't do that!" Dib advised, actually having to pull his claws away.

"But it's so itchy!"

"Look, what are we dealing with here?" Dib opened the door for himself and peeked out. There was no way to tell if Gir had left whilst wearing his disguise or not. But it was a very sunny day for late February. March was only a day away. The pockets of snow in the tall shadows were melting.

He closed the door with a gentle click and confronted the wheezy little Irken.

"Zim, how did he get so... crazy? He's always been... less crazy. What happened? What was the last thing you remember that was different about him? The disc I watched didn't tell me a whole lot."

Zim scrabbled ungracefully onto the couch. "I d-don't know! I can't remember that far back!"

"Think, Zim, think! Something must have happened for Gir to suddenly be this way! How long has he been like this? A week? A month? When did you make that disc?"

Zim hissed, his hooded eyes glaring at the human in frustration. "I don't know! With that robot it could have been anything! I have enough to do, let alone babysit a robot all day! He does crazy stuff! Creative stuff! Stupid stuff! While I try and work!"

Dib tried to keep a lid on his patience. If he got flustered too, he'd only be feeding Zim's angry fire. "Anything else happen that was like this? Has he ever done it before?"

"Y-Yes. Twenty or so years ago. I was... um... modifying his 'duty mode' to higher levels and manipulating his behavioural S.I.R unit modulator using a handheld remote." He noticed Dib's disapproving frown. "I was trying something different, all right?"

"And then what?"

"When he got dangerous I used the same device – I just switched his modulator back to standard settings."

"Uh huh." He did not remember any of this happening in the past, so Zim must have contained it very well. "So why is Gir acting dangerous now? Have you messed with his settings again since?"

"No! I don't KNOW!"

"Well, something else could have reset it." Dib helpfully suggested to try and keep Zim thinking, something he seemed to be doing less and less. But he couldn't blame his alien. He was pumped full with painkillers and the previous medicines that Dib had spoon-fed into him. He was still confused, still disorientated, and every now and then he seemed to be plagued by the chest pains that were managing to break through the wall of pain relief.

"There is nothing else!" The invader squealed in disappointment. "No isolated download! No virus! No recent catastrophe! I put him in the Assessment Pod and it stated that his behavioural modifier chip was damaged as well as something about his modulator." Zim looked stricken as if he had just been shown the death of his race. Dib doubted he would cry, but he looked frustrated enough to do so. The emotions were there, threatening to spill out, yet some deep, integral training kept him from expressing anything else aside from anger and annoyance.

Dib thought about it. And something surfaced, though it was vague. "Hey, wait a minute!"

"No, I don't want to." He snapped, taking the phrase literally.

Dib's mind was racing. "That night... when I found you all bloody and, and Gir had called me..."

'Urm... you need to come over. My Master spilled all his sauce everywhere. I'm worried. Someone could slip on it.'

"What about it?"

"That was the first time he attacked you recently, right? In twenty years?"

"I... I guess so."

"It was the same night we had that EMP black out. You mentioned the EMP on the disc!"

Zim glanced up at him. It didn't look like he was making the connection.

"Which means," the human continued, "that if we can re-create another EMP across the city, it just might turn Gir back to normal!"

Something did flicker in Zim's eyes, and he looked thoughtful. His anger seemed to have dissolved temporarily, but the rage could make a quick comeback at any time. "The e...m...p..."

"Yes." Dib encouraged, coming over to kneel beside him. He did not sit on the couch. Doing so may yet again frustrate the Irken. "Remember? My dad was experimenting that night, and all electrical machinery stopped working across all of Lincoln."

"Y-Yes..." Recognition lightened his mood, but he still did not approve. "Initiating another... E...M...P... is just a weak assumption, stink beast. Faults cannot be corrected as easily as all that, you silly, silly human."

"But the EMP MUST have caused it! You said so yourself in that video you made!"

"That may be so, but y-you aren't getting it through your big head, are you? The EMP may have burned out his fragile circuitry but it isn't the solution!"

"But there must be a way!"

"There is." Zim stated glumly. "I've been trying to make new parts for him... but... but..."

...You got too sick. Dib thought, feeling really bad for him.

Zim seemed to melt where he sat, looking drunk on medicine and strong pain relief. Dib didn't know how far he'd make it. It was a struggle to get him moving without the use of the PAK legs.

How was Dib going to do this? If he left the Irken here, Zim would be wracked in worry and he'd still stress out. But if he brought the Irken along with him, was it possible he'd make his health even worse? The painkillers and other medicines he'd taken would wear out possibly in four hours, maybe less, given Zim's high metabolism.

Zim seemed to have an inclination to where Dib's thoughts were taking him. "Here." He said, coughing. He passed him the Irken weapon he had threatened him with not very long ago into his hands. It was the Absolute. "I.. I don't want to lose Gir, so use it sparingly. It's one of my best weapons. It's called the Absolute."

"And you?"

"I will suffice."

"So, you're coming? We're going to capture him?"

Zim shrugged weakly. "I... I must." Then he coughed into the back of his hand.

"Okay. But I'm taking charge. You do as I say, Fudgekin. You got that?"

Worryingly, Zim only smiled and did not bluster back with insults.

He's hurting. Dib knew, deep down.

I've done this to you, Dib thought. But I did it to save you. Are you glad, Fudgekin? Or are you sad that you're still alive and suffering? I want to ask, but I'm too afraid of the answer.

Dib looked the weapon over, feeling its cool, rubbery plastic against his clammy, hot hands. It was surprisingly heavy and very substantial. He was pretty sure it would survive being dropped from a massive height, and have the capacity to do tons of damage. It was purple, and embossed in dazzling blue that sparkled depending on where the light hit it. The trigger was small, and perfectly suited for a dainty three-pronged hand.

"Do I need to cock it?" Dib asked, not sure if he wanted to be handed such a responsibly. But when he saw that Zim was holding his aching chest again, he knew he had to lead.

"N-No... Earth smeet. Just point and aim. When you are ready, squeeze hard on the trigger. It likes abuse. Don't be afraid to slap it around a... a little."

"Zim, are you okay?" He really didn't look it.

"When... when we find that bastard child of m-mine..." The Irken Elite continued as if he hadn't heard or much cared for Dib's question, "Shoot his leg off. His legs can be replaced easily. Then we'll carry him back to the containment room. I will encase him in something temporary until I can fix him."

"Zim, you can barely keep your eyes open. You're in no condition to..."

"Silence!" He hissed, gesturing out with his free claw, "I'll have no more disobedience! We do this now!" He shifted himself from the couch and almost went to use his PAK legs. He thought better of it and instead limped over to his drawers. Out came his black wig and human eye contacts. He slapped these on while Dib drew to his feet and came over to open the front door.

Zim growled and limped towards the open door but Dib stopped him when he was almost there.

"No." He said. "Wait for me and rest. First I'm going to hand the schematics over to my dad. Then we'll deal with Gir." He handed the Absolute back over to Zim, who took it with obvious disappointment.

Dib07: Haha, see, Zim wasn't so innocent after all! LOL. I don't know why I love a psychotic Irken, I reaaally don't. Anyways, there you have it! I hope you all enjoyed it! I think, personally, this chapter was slowish, but they'll pick up really quickly again!

Zim: Your insecurity is blabbing again. Shut it up.

Dib07: How? Zim? HOW?