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:

Ah here we are! Another update guys and gals! OMG! It's here! Holy icetarts!

And yes, *fingers crossed* my laptop has been working correctly for the last 2 days, but I don't think it will last. I am still reluctantly thinking about buying a new laptop, as this one has the jitters.

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to RissyNicole for her adorable, cute little fan art picture from the Fudgekin oneshot and I'd like to thank her for the praise she has given me as well! :)

Guest

Thanks again and again! Ooh the praise keeps coming! I beamed like a lighthouse when I read your review! Hahha, I know, only I know the ending oh man! And we're getting there! One chapter at a time. Yeah, I had no really good stories to read at the time that would sate me, so I had to make one. Now I've made 8 of them. XD Yeah, I rewatch the show as often as I can, it's so addictive. I wish there was more to watch. No prob! I could read your review very well! I just hope you can understand my reply okay! Yeah, the Tallest are really nasty. Trust me, they can get even nastier in another story I am writing. I just love emphasising their already horrid cruelty. Because it's what they are. Not that they can help it, the Empire has made them like that, as the Empire as made Zim as he is. Thanks for your generous feedback! I loved it!

Alexa

Here you go, Alexa! To keep you going hopefully until next time! XD Thanks for the review! It was awesome!

GeekySkeleton

Oh thank you Geeky, and I'm glad to see you back! I'm sorry to hear you had a bad morning. Trust me, at work I have some pretty horrible days where I have to put up with some really mean customers. So I know what it feels like to feel down. I'm happy my story has been cheering you up, and keeping you going. I just LOVE writing the duo! I am very joyous you love reading their endeavours with each other! Their interactions are the best! I think, one of the most memorable scenes for me between them is coming up in a few chapters. It's called 'My Dark Place.' I can't give anymore away! But man, Zim has ALL the best lines! Ah! The feels!

CHAPTER 26 (31): The Professor

Dib did not drive very far. In fact, once he had got into his car, the first naughty thing he did was have a cigarette. Then, with the windows rolled down, sitting in a seat still smelling slightly of Zim's blood, he got out his phone and dialled Clara's number.

He sat with the phone against his ear, anxious and still tired, his spooked eyes roaming the snowy street for Gir. He wished he hadn't plonked the Absolute back into Zim's claws. He felt mercilessly open without something to hold back a crazy android. What he had seen of the robot, though only brief, was enough to turn him back into a small boy. He remembered the way Gir targeted the cars, and the bird that had been resting on a tree branch, and the cold way he had killed it. It emphasized the fact that Gir was no child but a killing machine meant for war.

And he saw but one way out of this: and that was by destroying Gir.

Dib liked to think that he was brave, and had always been brave. If it wasn't for Zim's callous plots when they were young, he might never be the daring man he was today. But hunting a death-delivering robot was not one of his fancies.

"And here I was, condemning Zim's injuries as accidents." He mused to himself, one hand gripping the steering wheel of the car, his cigarette in the other. "When all along, he'd been abused by Gir. And he said nothing."

If I'd answered his phone call when Clara had been kissing me... things might not have taken such a wrong turn.

If I had listened to him long before, but it's his fault! HE should have let me in! Should have trusted me! Should have told me!

"Zim. You're such a fucking dipshit."

His eyes were mild and drifting, his thoughts freely roaming inside his head now that he was no longer being shepherded by ECG lines, alien screams and the physical strain of time.

The young man realized with faint dismay that he had yet to tell Zim that he and Clara were engaged. That had been the reason he had come to his doorstep in the first place.

The ring tones kept dialling. Then he was listening to her answering machine.

He took a drag on his cigarette and watched the hazy smoke swirl out through the open window.

She's not answering. It's eight in the morning and she's not answering.

I bet she's gone to the police.

No, no way!

The way she held Zim in her arms... no... she wouldn't. She gave me her word.

So where was she?

He put the blue Toyota into first gear after releasing the handbrake and gently edged it out onto the road, only lackadaisically looking for Gir. The late February cold made him regret not wearing his jacket, and he made a mental note to get another before returning. He could smell Zim's sickness on him: the blood, the bodily fluids, and the chemical tang of Irken disinfectant. As soon as he saw his father, he was going home to have a quick shower, and change into some fresh clothes.

Gir did not seem to be anywhere, and he was quite glad to avoid looking any deeper for him right now.

Putting the phone on the empty car seat, hoping Clara was okay, wherever she was; he took his car up a notch and drove deeper into the city. Heading North.

xxx

His father's lab had expanded over the last decade in a grand and expensive way. In fact, it was always expanding. For every invention the professor made, another wing or section was added until the place basically became a complex labyrinth of corridors, rooms, stairways and offices. And each level needed security clearance of differing grades. His father worked here so much, in fact, and hardly ever went home, that he had built his own private study at the back of the main lab where he conducted things in private, or just to catch up on some sleep.

To Dib, the whole complex was like a university for its size and capacity. And instead of students, scientists flocked here in their hundreds, all dressed in long white coats. When Dib parked in the huge parking lot and made his way to what he believed was the main access point of the building, he was stopped by a security guard.

"You're not a scientist." The guard said, looking him up and down vigorously as if Dib had come here specially to cause a ruckus.

"I'm Professor Membrane's son, Dib." He said, perfectly used to this kind of treatment. Wasn't his scythe of hair proof enough? He'd been seen on TV with his dad, taken photographs with his dad, even signed autographs and attended charity events WITH his dad. And yet, despite all this, the resemblance to his father and his face on TV seemed to go out the window on many occasions. He supposed that yesterday's news really was yesterday's news.

"Do you have some I.D?" The security guard asked.

"Yeah, yeah." He handed him his security clearance badge. As the guard checked it over suspiciously, more scientists passed them to get into the main building. Dib was totally clueless on how he was going to bring Zim here. He'd freak at all the men wearing lab coats, convinced he was going to be strapped to a table and be taken apart by these very same men.

The man handed it over. "May I see your bag?"

"Oh yeah."

Dib gave him his little duffel bag, remembering their conduct here. Because the laboratory was so highly established with possible futuristic weaponry it was vital to stop any potential terrorists at the door, or a spy working for some other country. All recording devices had to be removed, including mobile phones.

The guard peered through his belongings, confiscating his phone and his MP3 player. Luckily he skimmed through the soft, truculent alien schematic sheets with little to no thought.

He passed him his bag back. "Report to me to recover your belongings." He said.

"Is my dad in there working? Do you know if I can see him?"

"Last I heard, he was in a meeting. He's always in meetings. But ask at reception if you can have an appointment."

"Thanks."

He turned towards the main entrance, following a couple of young scientists as they had their card scanned at the main door. The electronic door opened, allowing them access, but when Dib went to follow, the door slid shut on silent hinges so fast that he almost walked into steel-plated glass. Grumbling, he raised his card and again the door opened.

He stepped inside, realizing at once how chilly the front reception room was. Even in winter, and his dad still liked to keep the air condition on full. He supposed that it was to help keep the machines and computers from overheating.

Dib took a moment to look around the room.

Everything was functional, clean and neat. It was something Zim would probably appreciate. There were potted plants, though he was no botanist and could not place their names, and there were paintings from ambiguous artists hanging on sleet grey walls.

Across from him, situated between a pair of elevators, was a long oak desk leaden with laptops and coffee mugs. Behind the desk was a female receptionist. On her posh metal name badge was the name: Vixen.

Dib approached the desk and rested his elbows on it. A group of men in those white coats walked on by to access one of the elevators. A few more took the stairs which was on the far right. Everything looked so clean and posh, as if he had stepped into a rich mansion and not a functional laboratory.

Vixen stopped typing on her laptop and offered a rehearsed smile to the young man. "May I help you?"

"Um, yeah. I'm looking for Professor Membrane. Do you know where he is?"

"He's on the fifth floor, but he's in the middle of a very important meeting. Do you want to leave a message?"

This custom of his father always being too busy was fairly normal. Numerous times as a child Dib had wandered into the lab to see him, crying from a cut knee or because he was hungry and had had his money stolen from some other kid at school. He remembered sitting in his father's study, waiting for hours to see him. Only, he never showed up, and he'd often go home, lonely and sad.

"No, I must see him in person. It's kind of... an emergency." He even opened up his bag before her and produced the flimsy, laminated schematics. "You see these? He has to see them. Like, right now. I don't have a lot of time!"

She did not even ask him what they were for. It was obviously above her pay grade. "Well, the best I can do is take you to the fifth floor and have you wait outside. But these meetings can last hours."

"As long as I see him soon." He said.

As promised, she took him up to the fifth floor, granting him clearance with her own security card. Dib tried to take a peek at what the other scientists were doing, but what he saw behind glass windows offered up no clues.

"Here we are." They were in a corridor that was softly furnished with posh 19th century chairs, side tables with plants on them, and more decorative art pieces on the cream coloured walls. It was like he had stepped back into an estate house again. There was even a grandfather clock at the end of the corridor, ticking down the seconds. He never knew his father had such taste for decor. But then again, he had never been in this section of the lab before.

"Thanks... uh... Vixen." He said.

She nodded. "You're welcome." And she left.

Dib sat down on one of the elegant mahogany chairs, clutching the duffel bag to him. Beside him was a steel door, and he could hear voices chatting away inside. He guessed that was where the meeting was taking place. Occasionally a voice would get louder, and he'd hear the words. It sounded like there were quite a few people in there, and at times he could hear his own father talking amongst his peers.

After about ten minutes, the voices took an angry turn.

"You must take it more seriously! These are peoples' lives you are messing with!"

"I understand perfectly, Gerald. But you see, there was a crack in the outer integral casing, and the surge of power spliced right through! It was an oversight, I agree, and it won't happen again!"

"It cost millions of dollars worth of damage! It reset many bank accounts, had hospitals run on emergency power! Phone lines went down, traffic lights went on the fritz, causing accidents nationwide! I don't think you understand at all!"

"On the contrary, I do. The integral core has been established with a firmer coating and the crack has been sealed."

"Are the experiments still ongoing?"

"Oh yes. It must! In a matter of years, we'll run out of oil. This is the only course of action! We must prevail! Or we switch to using something absolutely preposterous! Like water! Which is also running out, as I keep reminding everyone!"

There was a brief clap of hands.

Dib kept his eye on the grandfather clock, wondering how Zim was doing back at his home. It was foolish to believe that he'd only be here for an hour at most, when in reality he might not be back until the evening.

Hold up a moment there, Dib. He thought. Let's look at this realistically for a moment. IF Zim's PAK gets fixed, and I mean really fixed, like, if my father somehow did the impossible and made it as good as new, there's a whooping big chance that Zim'll be young again. And if he's young again, he may revel in this sudden leap of vitality and fully embrace his evil nature again. He may even set his sights right back on Earth, and want nothing more than to see it burn. And then what, Dib? And then WHAT?

Zim had even said:

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

Dib had never felt pushed so far into a corner.

Suddenly the door opened and scientists of various ages began to walk out. Not all of them were wearing lab coats either. Some were in suits or formal attire.

The last one to emerge from the room was the professor himself. Seeing him again was something of a fantasy. Dib stood up from the chair and threw out his hand for his father to shake.

"Dad! Dad! I've got to talk to you in private!"

The professor shook his hand gladly. "My son! Good to see you! Keeping well I trust? Still pursuing those rascally ghosts and aliens?" Though he had changed little in the past two decades, his scythe of hair had grown much longer, and his hair had turned completely white.

"Uh, yeah!" He said, knowing how much his father still disapproved of his career choice. "Look, can we talk?"

"I'm very busy, son! I'd love to chat but I have an appointment with the oil company in twenty minutes and I have yet to cancel my engagement with Douglas! Run along now, and I'll see you next month perhaps? I might have an opening by then!"

A month?

A blasted month?

"No!" Dib actually got in the way of his father and pushed the schematics into his chest. "This is serious!"

"My work is serious! That is why the whole world needs me! Now stop playing games and let me pass, my boy."

Because he had no other cards to play, and scared of losing all significance, he blurted: "It concerns Zim!"

The professor looked at him for a strange moment as if his son had just uttered the secret formula to immortality.

"I beg your pardon?"

Dib wasn't sure if his father was interested, or just annoyed. Usually he could never tell, as his father never seemed to remove his eye goggles. And his father was never interested in his son's private affairs, his friends, his enemies, or his life, unless science had something to do with it.

"Zim! Here, just look at these schematics."

"And what is this about? Why does this concern your foreign green friend?" The professor lifted the pages to his eye goggles, peering at them with some curiosity. Then he shifted through them. If anything, he started to look baffled. Most things he understood in five seconds. But this wasn't one of those times.

Now Dib knew he had to lie. After all, this was the game he needed to play to save his little alien. If his dad realized he really was dealing with an alien, then Zim would be a prisoner until he died. The sense of great irony was not lost on him either. After all these years of trying to expose Zim, and being ignored, he was now trying to protect him, which, in the end, might just backfire. "Um, well, you see, Zim has this... device on his back... and it's starting to... not work... so good. And I wanted to know if you could... maybe..."

His father suddenly slipped the schematics into his pocket, and looked around, spooked, as if someone had overheard them. "Not here, son." He said. "Let's go somewhere more private! Then we'll discuss it."

Dib's heart lightened. But strange confusion blighted this otherwise good feeling. His father was... listening to him for once? Should he be worried? Seconds ago, the professor was adamant that he didn't have time, and had about a thousand other things to do.

Maybe he's just sparing me a few minutes? For old time's sake? He thought, but it was a wary thought.

He had never had to lie to his father before. He knew it was for a good cause, but what if his father... found out? And crucified Zim to the wall? How could you even begin to lie to one of the smartest people on Earth?

He followed the professor to the elevator. Several more people got on, and they cheerily congratulated his father on whatever it was he had achieved yesterday.

When they reached the ground floor, his father heading towards another section, Dib asked, "So, how's Gaz been lately?"

"Oh, your sister? Fine, just fine! She's hooked up with that Gary fellow, hasn't she?"

"Oh... yeah? They're going out?" He was confused. Was she going out with someone? He had been kept out of the loop. Was it the Gary he knew, or some other sod going by that name?

"Last I heard! Wait, that was two years ago! Never mind! For all I know they've had a baby by now, or they've split up! Such is the human way! And how are you getting on, my boy? Seeing anyone lately?"

"Actually, yes. Her name's Clara. We're engaged!"

"Excellent, son! Just excellent!" And he could have smiled for him, but any expression was concealed behind the tall collar of his coat. But he gave his son a hearty pat on the back.

They went to his father's private lab, which was an isolated building at the back of the giant laboratory. At the front of the two storey building was a porch and a deck chair, making the place quite appealing. It had windows, and a front yard. Inside, it was a lot more high-tech. All the furnishings were pretty much stainless steel, with miniature robots doing the general cleaning and housework. A wheeled unit was dusting the table top, and another little blue gizmo was mopping up any crumbs on the floor. Dib had to sidestep in order to allow one of these little robots to pass by.

"Don't mind them," the professor said curtly, "they're equipped with sonar tracking. They don't bump into things!"

"Oh, right." He was amused by them, and liked to watch them whizz around, always finding things to clean up. "Why aren't they on the market yet?"

"Oh, you mean the CleanerBots? Have you seen my ad? Making the home a safer, tidier, cleaner place?"

"Um... not... yet." Had it been on TV? Or just on selected websites? He couldn't even remember the last time he sat and watched TV.

"Well, the reception was well received. But the public are not ready for such domestic advancements. They naturally mistrust robotics. They believe in their tiny minds that they'll come alive, and eat them in their sleep! Utterly preposterous!"

Dib smiled faintly. He had an idea the public would think along those lines, but the mention of robots only solidified his resolve. "Now, about those schematics."

"Ah yes. I like it when you get to the point, son. So there is a scientist in you after all!" He pulled out the schematics in his pocket and flicked through them. "Fascinating material." He said, squinting at them. "Fascinating mathematics. Complex, though, very complex."

"Yes, but can you understand them?" For if he couldn't, Zim's last chapter had already arrived. And there was no way Dib could get his head around most of the formulas and its cryptic numbers.

"Give me a moment, son! I have to say, these look very... very..."

Alien?

Before the professor could utter what Dib suspected he would say, he said quickly, "The equipment on Zim's back is... is a prototype! Yeah! From a rival company that's trying something new in the realms of biology and science!" It was some quick B.S. but really he had no idea what else to really say. Distorting the truth was better, he gathered, than just lying.

His father had not taken his eyes off the schematics. "But... but the technology! How dare another corporation best me in these fields! What is this rival company's name? Is it Spanda? Those idiotic clowns?"

Dib only had some idea who Spanda was, but he did know that they had invented the electric dog robots, the 4D television and a squid that could live comfortably on land. "Yeah! Totally!"

"Ugh! I knew it! Their advancements are too fast! And now they're playing god?" But his father's tone seemed too exaggerated, too false. Something didn't sit right.

Dib wiped some sweat from his brow. "It's one of its kind. But Zim's life depends on it. Without it, he'll die."

"Die, how?"

"Multiple organ failure. The thing on his back is powered by blood. With each pulse, it rejuvenates the battery inside, like kinetic energy! It's almost infinite!"

Such a thing, though not quite like Zim's, was not unheard of. In this modern day and age, a lot of people depended on machines and batteries to keep them alive. Some people even had battery packs implanted into their spinal cords, or plates in their brains.

"So, what do you want me, your great father, to do?"

"Well, if you can understand it, I was thinking if you could find a way to lengthen the PAK's duration? Keep his organs working, you know?"

"That would entail a bypass. Or remove out bad parts, and change them into newer ones."

Dib nodded, inwardly cheering. This was the same conclusion he had come to as well.

"Replacing the entire machine would just be..."

"Impossible?" Dib asked.

"I am sure at this point."

"So, you'll do it?"

His father was looking at the blueprints again, nodding to himself. Then he glanced at his son. "In order to do the job properly, and to know what I can and can't do, I need to see this contraption he carries!"

The worry that had almost subsided suddenly spiked to dangerous levels. Dib swallowed, feeling disillusioned. This would inadvertently expose Zim. He had not planned to show him to his father whatsoever. He had planned that the professor would solve it by just studying the schematics. Now he was beginning to see how very misguided he was in this endeavour. He would have to discuss it with Zim, who'd no doubt freak, and freak some more.

"These schematics are simply not enough." His father continued, seeing his son hesitate, "I MUST see your little friend. Not only to evaluate this... contraption of his, but to also evaluate his current health."

Dib argued weakly, "He... he doesn't like people... much..."

"No, no! This is serious! If he wants help, he must learn to collaborate! I will try my very best, only if I have his full cooperation!"

"You know how difficult this is going to be, right?"

"Nothing is difficult if you just put your mind to it! It's the scientific way!"

Dib could imagine Zim's face when would break the news to him. "Thanks, dad. I know you're busy, but this is really important. I don't think Zim has much time left. And that's if he rests. I... I don't want to lose him." The admittance just came out of him, and he realized how very much he wanted it.

The professor placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. Despite Dib's height gain, his father would always be a few inches taller. "If that is what you really want, I'm happy to oblige. If Zim refuses, just tell him one thing."

Dib leaned in to hear. "What's that?"

"Just say this one word to him: 'baloney.' He'll understand."

Dib frowned, absolutely confounded. To him, the word meant nothing. How would it mean anything to an alien?

"What?" He asked, wondering if his father was playing some sort of joke on him.

"Now, off you go! I have work to do! See you and your friend soon, I hope?"

Dib shrugged. "Yeah. Even if it means I have to strap him to a skateboard, we'll be here. How about tomorrow morning?"

"I can rearrange a few appointments. How does that sound? Bring him in as soon as you can!"

Dib actually felt bold enough to smile. He shook his father's hand. It was going to be close. "Okay. It's a deal."

Dib07: There you have it! Another update! :) I hope you all enjoyed it! I don't think Zim will much like Dib's plans for him. XD