Author Notes: I'm not dead! Sorry this took so long, but I reached a severe block... words are starting to flow again, though, so I expect chapter six to be up within the next two weeks. I'm sorry if this chapter seems sort of boring.. though, my beta ensures me that it isn't, I can't help thinking it is. Just think of it as a filler chapter until I get to some more interesting stuff. XD It's also a break from all the seriousness and angst.

IMPORTANT: I know it's been so long that whoever had been reading this before probably can't remember everything that's happened, but I thought it'd be wise to tell you that I completely revised the ending to chapter four. I didn't like where it was going, and that's one of the main reasons for my block... some small things were changed throughout all the chapters, but those won't affect the plot. The big change is chapter four; no more kiss. It was much too fast.

Anyhow, I now return you to your regularly scheduled fic.


------
I'm placeable listen to the dreams you're dreaming
Untraceable tell me now what are you scheming
I'm placeable to the place where you most fear
Untraceable so help me dear
--Excerpt from "El Cu Cuy," by Coal Chamber
------

- disclosure -

What am I supposed to do?

Dib sighed for the umpteenth time, the same question plaguing his mind ever since he'd woken up that Saturday morning. Presently, he was kneeling on the ground, concealed by the tall bushes that grew around him, his brown eyes hidden behind a pair of binoculars that were trained to the little, green house across the street.

"One more hour gone by," he said to himself, allowing yet another frustrated sigh to escape his lips. Letting the binoculars fall to his side, he plopped himself upon the grass beneath him and reached into his backpack, retrieving a pen and a pad vigorously scribbled with notes. "Three hours total, and I still don't have a plan put together. What the heck am I supposed to do?"

Different answers were sought to the same query. What was he supposed to do to get into the base? What was he supposed to do to learn Zim's plans once inside? And what was he supposed to do about Zim in general? Although he tried to regard it as the least important question to be asked, the latter issue was the one he wondered about the most. Obviously, the invader had gone through some terrible ordeal during his years of absence, rendering him an entirely different Irken; an Irken who was malevolent and brutal, much more intense than he had ever been in all the time Dib had known him.

The human shook his head, troubled by the fact that his enemy now seemed quite formidable. He remembered when all the chases and fights, though serious in meaning, seemed like a game, a never-ending competition for dominance and right to gloat. What he faced now appeared to be very crucial and he couldn't help but wonder if he was ready for something so dangerous.

If I don't do something, then who will?

Who indeed. He doubted anyone would ever truly understand the danger Zim posed.

Beneath his fears and worries, though, there was a layer of sympathy that had been spreading since the previous night. For a split second, Dib knew he'd seen an immense sorrow building in the invader's eyes. Such tremendous grief could hardly go unnoticed, and the human had inexplicably felt the need to know exactly what happened to break the once overly self-centered alien's spirit. It just didn't seem right. Given Zim's present state of mind, however, Dib regretfully suspected he wouldn't be finding out any time soon.

Argh, I shouldn't bother with this, anyway! He admonished himself. I should be concentrating on what's important . . .

Anxiously chewing his pen cap, he regarded the notes on the paper. For three hours, he'd been trying to come up with a way to get into the house undetected, but everything he thought of was much too risky.

"The window's an obvious no," he said, going through his list of ideas for the tenth time that morning. "And so is tunneling underground . . . his labs are way too far beneath the surface. Drilling a hole into the side of the house would more than likely set the alarms off . . . argh!" Annoyed, he tossed the paper and pen aside and sprawled out on the grass, pulling his hair to the point where it was quite painful. "Maybe I should just go ring the stupid doorbell!" As he continued to rack his brain for ideas, he heard a vehicle stop not too far away. In fact, it sounded like it was right across the street.

Immediately, Dib sat up, reclaiming the binoculars and placing them over his eyes once more. Parked outside of Zim's house was a Bloaty's Pizza Hog truck. A man carrying four large pizza boxes exited the vehicle, making his way through the yellow gate, past the gnome field, and straight to the steps, where he halted and rang the doorbell. A small creak was heard as the door slowly opened, and into view came a little green dog who instantly clung to the pizza man's leg.

"Well, at least GIR hasn't changed." Dib noted, a smile tugging at his lips. Then something caught his attention. "Is he letting him into the house . . .?"

Sure enough, GIR had dragged the man into the house and—from what Dib could gather by watching through the open door—was telling him where to place the boxes.

A mischievous grin began to play on Dib's features. "I think I might actually have a plan," he whispered. As he watched the man leave the base and drive away, he set the binoculars aside and slowly crawled out of the bushes, scanning the streets for ideas.

Just a few yards ahead, he spotted a little girl in a green uniform. Red pigtails flip-flopped behind her as she skipped along the sidewalk, dragging a wagon packed with cookie-filled boxes, a nauseatingly sweet smile adorning her face. Dib scratched his chin, thoughtfully. "Am I really that desperate?" he asked himself, observing the innocent girl scout as she went from door to door, selling those awful creations that, for years, had been passed off as edible food substances. With a shrug, he made his way to the nearest clothing shop, muttering, "I'm sure people have done stranger things." He paused, briefly. "I hope."

~ * ~

Fully covered in grease and cheese, GIR happily downed his final pizza, box and all. As he licked his plush-covered paws, he noticed there was nothing left to eat and his eyes immediately welled up with tears. "My pizza," he whimpered. "I loveded yooou . . ." Suddenly, he let out a burp thunderous enough to shake the entire room. This caused him to squeal and fall into fits of giggles. "YAY, INDIGESTION!"

Then the doorbell rang.

GIR sat up and gasped. "GASP! Pig?!" He threw the door open, but alas, Pig was not to be seen. Instead, there stood a tall, slender girl with black, scythe-like pigtails hanging beneath a green beret. Atop her white t-shirt was a green vest, with a matching skirt and stockings, and she wore the most pleasant smile, holding a few boxes in her arms.

"Hello there, little dog," she greeted, obviously using a falsetto.

The disguised GIR waved frantically. "HI, DIB!"

The girl nervously shifted her weight. "You must have me mistaken for someone else," she explained, her voice cracking somewhat. "I'm just a humble girl scout."

GIR stared at her blankly, tongue lulling out of his mouth.

Sighing, the girl indicated the boxes she held in her hands, forgetting the falsetto all together. "I sell cookies."

Suddenly, the green dog let out an ear-piercing squeak of delight and grabbed the girl by the skirt, yanking her through the door. He led her to the middle of what was meant to be a normal family room and specified a spot on the carpet . . . a nice, grease-stained spot. "Put them here!"

The girl scout hastily dropped the boxes in the designated spot and jumped back as the little dog immediately tore into the first one, shoveling five cookies into his mouth at a time.

"I wonder where it all goes?" With a shrug, she warily made her way into the kitchen, keeping an eye on GIR to make sure she wasn't being watched. As she rounded the corner, she let out a breath she hadn't even been aware of holding. "I made it in . . . I actually made it in." She grinned and wiped her brow, taking her beret off in the process and pulling out the rubber bands that held her pigtails in place. She twisted her backpack around and placed the items inside, then roughed up her hair until it came together to form a single scythe at the top. Quite obviously, this was not a girl scout; this was Dib in drag.

Grumbling to himself, Dib reached down and scratched at the stockings that clung to his legs. "How can girls stand these things?" He proceeded to remove the vest and began stripping out of the t-shirt until he suddenly stopped, a blush slowly creeping onto his cheeks. It just didn't feel right to be changing in Zim's house; it made him feel too vulnerable. Throwing the vest back on, he resolved to change as soon as he left the base.

He scanned the kitchen, well aware that there were several different entrances leading to the labs below. As his gaze fell onto the toilet against the far wall, he shuddered with disgust—the mere thought of flushing himself down that thing was just . . . too . . . icky. With that option being an understandable 'no,' he made his way to the trashcan and flipped the lid off, realizing that, unfortunately, the lift was not there to transport him to the labs. "Zim probably used it earlier today," he mused. "Which means he's down there right now . . ."

Dib bit his lip and nervously tapped on the side of the trashcan, staring down into the emptiness of the elevator shaft as if it would somehow show him what to do next.

And in some way, it did.

A smile brightened his features the minute he caught sight of the small rungs protruding from the wall, more than likely present for emergency use. "And this is definitely an emergency," he affirmed, heaving one of his legs over the garbage can until it was placed firmly onto the top rung. He hadn't realized how difficult that might be with the slightly heeled shoes he was wearing, but he eventually had a secure grip on the ladder and was slowly making his way down the shaft.

As much as he tried to repress it, a trill of excitement was flowing through his veins, pushing his mindset back by two and a half years. Spying on Zim, infiltrating the alien's base, trying to find out his plans: all were reminiscent of his former obsession, what he once lived for. Suddenly, the past couple years of his life seemed so distant and meaningless, as if they had never even occurred. He hadn't been alive, but merely existing, watching the hours pass and the days go by, waiting for something to fill the void that had so unexpectedly eaten away at his spirit. Now he felt a familiar drive prodding him forward, filling his body to the brim with adrenaline. He felt like he was still eleven years old, there to ruin Zim's plans and be chased away, only to wait for the next night, when the game would yet again resume.

But it's not like that anymore, he kept reminding himself.

"Yipe!" A sudden slip caused his mind to jolt back into reality. He looked down to see that the rungs had ended where a pink, translucent tube began. At the bottom of the tube was the elevator lift.

"Typical Zim logic," Dib grumbled, pulling himself back into a stable position. "Why have an emergency ladder if you have to ride the platform to get to it?!" Immediately, he clamped a hand over his mouth, hearing Zim's voice faintly traveling through the elevator shaft as the alien barked orders at his computer.

"Great . . . now what am I supposed to do?" More than slightly annoyed at this sudden standstill, Dib was strongly thinking of jumping from the ladder to the ground twenty feet below, but stopped when he spotted a large panel on the wall next to him. Without hesitation, he unlatched it and peered at what the panel had been hiding: it was a duct leading into the immense wiring above Zim's lab.

Dib smiled as fate seemed to be kind that day. He crawled into the jungle of wires and tubes that were, thankfully, thick and heavy enough to support him and not cause much of a disturbance. As he wriggled deeper and deeper into the mess of pipes, Zim's voice became more clear and definite, demanding items from his computer that were foreign to the young investigator's ears. Further down, Dib came to an opening in the wires, now able to get a clear view of the alien.

Zim stood before an enormous—

"Machine?" Dib whispered, not quite sure what the object was, but it was gigantic, letting off a low humming sound that caused the whole lab to vibrate slightly.

"Computer," the invader bellowed. "Open the doors to the eco chamber!"

With a hiss, the two massive doors governing the front of the machine slid open. Unfortunately, Dib could not see what was within from his point of view and curiously watched as Zim entered the chamber. On the bright side, however, this gave the human a chance to inspect the rest of the lab.

Not too far from where Zim had been a moment ago was a table cluttered with sizeable jars and innumerous test tubes, all filled with blue liquids that bubbled from the bunsen burners below them. The boy momentarily trembled, remembering the previous night when the alien had waved a vial in his face.

". . .what are you going to do?" He'd asked, helplessly.

"Make you useful."

Dib shook the memory away. Whatever was inside those jars was obviously a big part in Zim's scheme and, as the protector of Earth, it was Dib's duty to make sure the plan wasn't seen through. Problem was . . . he still didn't actually know Zim's plan . . .

What to do?

Before the boy knew it, Zim was walking away from the chamber and towards the table, his arms full of different vegetables and grains. He set the lot on a chair, picking out a stalk of celery and slowly dipping it into one of the jars of boiling liquid. His face twisted into a wicked grin as the celery gradually melted, causing the liquid to steam and turn a deeper shade of blue.

"Yes," he urged, his eyes intently focused as each vein lining the vegetable cracked and sizzled, dissolving into nothing. "Spread your disease. Prove them wrong. Prove them all wrong . . ."

From above, Dib observed the scene in frightened bewilderment. "This sounds very, very bad . . ."

Caught up in the intensity of the moment, he vaguely heard a flushing sound over the hum of the eco chamber, followed by a squeal as GIR rolled out of a pipe below. The robot, now out of his costume, scuttled around and bumped into chairs, covered from head to toe in chocolate and cookie crumbs.

"GIR! Watch where you're going! . . . annoying little—"

"But, master! I'm BLIND!" the little SIR shrieked, wildly flailing a rubber chicken.

Snarling, Zim threw a rag at the robot's face, quite clearly irritated by his presence. "Your eyes are full of disgusting CHOCOLATE."

GIR took the rag with his free hand and wiped off his eye lenses, his face beaming as he threw the towel on the floor. "I SEE THE LIGHT!"

Trying his best to ignore the pure essence of insanity beside him, the Irken let out a deep breath to calm his nerves and reached for the next vegetable, stopping midway when he heard a crunching sound. Without delay, he whirled around and jerked the food from GIR's hands, forcefully pushing the robot back until his bottom hit the floor.

GIR seemed unfazed, but Zim was seething. "I already told you not to eat these! In fact, I've told you dozens of times! Why don't you listen?! Is your mind so diminutive that you cannot compute the simplest of orders?!" The alien studied the unchanging features of his robot companion before sighing and closing his eyes, gently massaging the sockets. "These are imperative to the plan, GIR. Try to understand that . . . They have a high concentration of aflatoxin and are highly toxic."

"Will they make me 'splooode?"

Another sigh. "No, GIR, they won't . . ."

"Aww . . ."

"But," Zim added, "if you weren't a robot, you'd be dead."

Those words caused Dib to gasp, and he immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, hoping that the sound went unnoticed.

While the alien may have failed to hear, the noise caught GIR's attention. He turned his cyan eyes upward and focused on the spaces between the wires, then frantically waved his hands and yelled, "HI!"

Zim squinted, casting a suspicious glare at the robot. "GIR . . . who are you talking to?"

"The girl scout in the ceiling!"

All at once, Dib pulled back, his breathing stopped, and his heart ceased to beat. He couldn't get caught now, he just couldn't . . . Before he turned around, he caught a glimpse of Zim's red eyes staring directly into his, a look of curiosity and definite intrigue on his face, yet it slowly thawed into anger. As the human tried to remember the way he came, he heard Zim ordering the computer to scan the lab for intruders. Dib quickened his pace, tenfold, crawling over immense tubes and pipes, occasionally becoming tangled in a loose wire.

"Scanning!" the computer announced.

Up ahead, Dib saw the outlet leading into the elevator shaft and leaped toward it, pulling himself through at such velocity that he nearly missed grabbing the rungs and just about plummeted into the shaft. Taking a quick moment to steady his dizzying senses and focus his dotted vision, he soon resumed his perilous escape and climbed the ladder just in time to hear the muffled conclusion of the computer's analysis.

"No intruding life forms present in the lab."

He stopped right there, on the ladder, the whole severity of the situation catching up to him. He relaxed his head on the rungs, the cool metal soothing the heat that radiated from his skin. His pulse continued to race, as did his breathing, and he had to focus all his will power on holding back the sob that threatened to burst out at any minute. He'd never been scared of Zim. Not like this.

"Calm down, calm down," he whispered. "I can't let myself get like this . . . he might search the rest of the base . . ."

Taking a few deep breaths to appease his shaking body, he continued climbing the ladder, his legs weak and wobbly, feeling like jelly. He knew he'd make it out of this, though; there were too many things at stake, too much research to be done.

~ * ~

"DIB!!"

The young investigator had fled Zim's base only moments before, and was now nearing his own home, his half-lidded eyes fixed on the sidewalk, his expression dazed.

"DIB!!"

He looked up at the sound of his name, his house in plain view as well as the girl standing in front of it.

Great.

"Hey, Cil . . ." he greeted, half-heartedly, returning his gaze to the ground.

The blond seemed offended as Dib proceeded to pass her up and walk to his front door without even a glance. "Hey Cil?" she echoed. "HEY CIL? Is that all you have to say to me?! Where the hell have you been?!" She took a moment to consider the boy's attire. "And what the hell are you wearing?!"

Dib stopped and examined his outfit: still the little green skirt with matching stockings and vest. It would certainly explain the odd stares he received while walking home . . . Looking over his shoulder, he grinned feebly, his face more than a bit flustered. "I can explain," he began.

But Cil interrupted. "Please don't," she insisted. "You've been getting weirder and weirder since yesterday, and I could really care less about your retarded hobbies. Enough about you, though. There's an algebra test on Monday."

Dib nodded. "That's right."

Blinking, Cil waited for more of a response, but upon receiving none, she placed a hand on her hip and cocked her head to the side, sneering. "Uh, yeah? So did you do the review or what?"

"Been kinda busy . . ."

"Busy? What the hell could you have possibly been doing?"

Dib sighed and looked at the ground, giving no reply. Honestly, he didn't feel like dealing with this now, and he hoped she take the hint and leave, but perish the thought of Cil not getting her way. She moved in front of him, blocking his way to the door. With a pouting face, she wrapped her fingers in the collar of his scout t-shirt and pulled him close, trying to get in his line of vision.

"Don't you like me anymore, Dib?"

No answer.

She pulled him even closer and gave him a soft kiss. When that received no reaction, she teasingly ran her tongue along his lips until he grabbed her hands and pulled away.

"I don't want to do this . . ."

Abruptly, she yanked her hands away and roughly shoved the boy, frustrated to the point where her eyes became bloodshot. "What the hell am I supposed to do about the test then?!"

Dib pushed passed her and opened the front door, pausing in the frame to turn around and glare. "Maybe you should try studying, for once. I'm tired of being used by you, Cil. It's gone on way too long and I don't want to do it anymore!"

The girl's jaw hung open, quite insulted, shock written plainly on her face. "Are you, like, dumping me or something?"

Dib seemed to consider this for a moment. "I guess I am," he said, simply, then closed the door in her face.

She stood there a moment longer, her shock melting into a seething hatred. Clenching her fists together until her knuckles turned white, she kicked at the door. "I'll make you pay for this!!" she howled, then turned around, stomping onto the sidewalk. "I'll so make you pay for this . . ."

Inside, Dib leaned against the door, a whole weight having been taken off his shoulders. He'd meant to end things a while ago, but at that time, he wasn't even quite sure what he wanted. But it was fine, now. It was in the past, one less thing to worry about . . .

Lifting his gaze, he saw Gaz sitting on the couch, staring at him somewhat strangely.

He blushed. "Don't ask," he muttered, referring to his clothes.

"Wasn't gonna."

~*~

After taking a quick shower and changing his clothes, Dib sat at his computer, researching all that he could on the properties and uses for aflatoxin. So far, it wasn't very interesting.

"Aflatoxin is a naturally occurring mycotoxin produced by two types of mold: Aspergillus flavus and Aspergillus parasiticus," he read, drawling monotonously. "Aspergillus flavus is common and widespread in nature and is most often found when certain grains are grown under stressful conditions such as drought. Favorable conditions include high moisture content and high temperature, blah blah blah . . ." He scrolled through the text, but instantly stopped when he saw mention of dreadful-sounding diseases, his eyes widening. "Necrosis? Hepatocellular carcinoma? What . . .?" Still, his eyes widened more when he saw that aflatoxin was a highly poisonous agent—

"—used in both nuclear and bio-chemical warfare." He blinked, a light bulb immediately illuminating his brain.

"Oh. Shit."

- end chapter 5 -


For those of you asking, "Where be mah slash?!" I have one thing to say: I'm a plot*whore. I like to write stories that unfold, not just jump into certain situations for no particular reason. I don't want this story to be about slash. I want it to be about something bigger, which just happens to INVOLVE slash. I don't want to rush into it like I did in the unrevised version of chapter four... just be patient. You'll get a tiny bit of a slash fix in the next chapter. =)

Unlimted thanks to my beta, Bryan! j00 r0x0r!