AAAAAAAAHAAAAAHAAAAA, are we ready for the angst?
I was so unhappy with this chapter, I must have re-written it so many times by now, and my beta reader doesn't do angst so she wasn't reading it so just TAKE IT. I did my best! I probably missed some grammar things, but I am finally done with it, and I am just throwing it out there before I go over it AGAIN.
And I apologize for the lack of updates. House-owning has been kicking me in the rear end all year and severely draining me of all motivation to be creative. BUT, I got ADHD meds! FINALLY! And it's been going great! I have so much more motivation to do things, sadly those things are all "physical activity" not "brain activity" like writing fml but I'm working on it lol
So, while chapters are gonna probably continue to take a while, know that I am NOT abandoning any of my fics, even the ones that appear to be abandoned or on extended hiatus (lookin' at you ATLA fic…), they aren't. If you wanna get vague updates on chapters or indulge in some shared fandom love, I do have a tumblr .com you can visit 😊
Anyway! Warnings for blood, injury/illness, and general angst. Enjoy!
Chapter 12: A Hidden Fiend (Part 2)
Zim blinked tiredly.
Dib was sat at the closet door, laptop in his lap, ready to jot down notes with lightning speed. "Where are you from?" Dib asks.
"…"
"Do you need to eat any solid food or is it all metaphysical?"
"…"
"…I heard you speaking before. Did you tear apart your vocal cords, or something?"
"Oof… that's his annoyed voice," Gaz sighs.
She passed Zim a soda, pre-opened, ready to drink. It was one of the alien brands he had stashed in any number of fridges littered about the base. Some fruity flavor, one of his favorites, in fact. He lazily took it, letting it hang by his claws as he rested his arms on his knees, watching Dib. He would enjoy it later, when he had the energy to actually savor it. His antenna flick slightly. Gaz gave him a side eye as she cracked open her own soda.
"What's eating at you?" Gaz asks.
"I want it gone," Zim says. Gaz hummed. She pulled her phone out, quickly typing something in the browser and then scrolling rapid fire through the results.
"Were you human once, or were you always like how you are now?" Dib asks.
"…"
"It won't speak with him no matter how long he tries," Zim grumbles. "Not after spending so long hidden."
"You sound bitter about that," Gaz says, poking his soda and gesturing he drink. Zim grumbled, taking a long sip.
He wanted to rip it apart, honestly. He wasn't sure he could, or even if he could touch it, but his claws were twitching to tear into it. He supposed if he couldn't kill it by doing so, it would at least serve as a great cathartic exercise.
Zim sipped his soda, reminding himself of control. He couldn't go destroying his base again, lest he lead Dib into thinking he had to move out of the base and into their home. As much as he wanted to just tear that thing out of the closet and bite and tear; he also knew that'd be a mistake. The salt and chalk would be destroyed and he wasn't risking that thing slipping out of his grasp for even a second.
His nausea was spiking. Whether it was the entity or the PAK, he couldn't tell. Not that it mattered, he figured. He glanced over at Gaz, who's glare was settled on what of the creature they could see past the mop bucket. She was rhythmically tapping her finger on the rim of her soda can. Her bat was set against the wall beside Dib and her eyes drifted over to it.
Dib sighed, slamming his laptop shut. He pushed himself off the wall and joined them on the other side of the hall, sliding down the wall once he'd reached them.
"Giving up?" Gaz asks, her brow raised.
"It's not talking," Dib sighed. He set his laptop to the side. "I was thinking…"
"Hm?" Zim hummed. His gaze settled on the entity as it slithered out from the mop bucket to hide behind something else in the corner. Gaz's fingers flexed in his peripheral.
"I'll have to research it traditionally," Dib admitted. "I was going to contact the Swollen Eyeball, but I don't want it talking to them…"
Zim paused. He set his soda down, intertwining his fingers in front of him and resting his forehead against them. He was not allowing the beast to remain in the base. That went without saying. But, he had nowhere to evict it to, either. Even if he did, it would slither back and continue to feed off him. He thought of the farm, the damned cultists following his image (he would consider them nothing less), the PAK, his body feeling worse as the days passed…
"Just kill it," Zim mumbles. Dib looked at him, leaning so he could get a better look at Zim's face.
"Do you want to stay at our house until I can figure it out?" Dib asks.
"No, I want it gone," Zim emphasized with a growl. Gaz bounced her heel rapidly for a moment in the silence before she stood. She turned to them, hands on her hips.
"Come on, Space Boy, you're taking a break."
"….What."
"You're taking. A. Break," Gaz stressed, eye twitching. Dib shrank at her stare, glancing over to Zim, who was just looking up at her with a furrowed brow and a tired grimace.
"Um, I'll be fine on my own for now," Dib says. "It can't get out of the closet. If it could leave through the vent, it would have by now, and the salt keeps the door secure."
"I know," Zim says.
He hesitated a moment longer before he relented and braced himself against the wall as he stood. The creature peered around the mop bucket, meeting Zim glare for glare. Gaz whipped her head around and it shrank back under the intensity of both of them.
"I will relent. Only for an hour," Zim says. He turned down the hall. "I have to check the farm, regardless."
"No, you don't," Gaz says, grabbing him by the hood. She pulled him down the opposite end of the hallway, ignoring his flailing against her iron grip on the fabric. He was, likely, cussing her out in Irken, but it did little to impede her resolve.
"You're taking something called a 'nap'. I'm sure you've heard of them," Gaz says. Dib waved them off. Zim flipped him the bird, only for it be returned with a knowing smirk.
"Irkens do not require sleep," Zim says, finally getting free by wriggling his way out of the hoodie. Gaz let it fall limp in her hand, turning to him with a scowl. He adjusted his top, trudging alongside her.
"I know that's what you say," Gaz began, draping the hoodie over her shoulder. "But, your eyes are telling me otherwise, Space Boy."
Zim grumbled something to her that she didn't catch. She let it slide. They stopped off in one of the many renovated labs he'd destroyed, the Computer doing its best to clean up what mess Zim had caused and moving in what little furniture the Irken had actually had in storage. The sofa in the room was the only soft piece of furniture present, with tables and shelves making up the rest. They were empty, of course. Gaz wasn't sure what she'd expected. She'd have jokingly bet on a mountain of romantic comedies. There was one piece of fabric, folded, on the shelf nearest the couch.
She shoved Zim towards the couch, grabbing the blanket off the shelf, and draping it over him. He released his arms from the hold of the blanket, swatting her hands away when she tried to adjust the blanket. Gaz plopped down at the other end of the couch, at his feet, and lounged back.
"I'm not leaving," she says, pointing at him. "Until you fall asleep."
"…This is unnecessary," Zim grumbled. Regardless, he turned over in the blanket, pulling it up over his head to block out the light of the hall.
"Whine all you want," Gaz snapped.
She pulled out her phone, playing a game silently. She waited there, switching between apps to appease her boredom, until she felt Zim go limp beside her. She waited a moment until she could confirm he was actually asleep. Once she was positive, she leaned over him, checking his eyes were truly shut.
He looked peaceful.
She adjusted the blanket, tucking it into place. She rested her hand on his shoulder, feeling his body rise and fall in time with his breathing for a few moments before she stood and walked as silently as she could out of the room.
The base was empty and dark. Usually, this wasn't an issue, Zim could see perfectly fine in the dark. Usually. He cracked open an eye, still facing the couch, and he could hardly see it. Even if the hall light had been flicked off, and he couldn't fathom why either sibling would have shut it off, or closed the door to the room, he would've been able to see better than this. The emergency lights would have ensured it—the emergency lights weren't on. Had the base completely lost power? Unlikely, and if it had, the siblings would have woken him. The generator would have kicked on. He had been sure to stay far away from that area of the base in his tirades.
He'd been in a bad headspace, but he hadn't been stupid with rage.
Zim stared at the back of the couch. He felt sluggish. It wasn't quite like when he was getting slower in his movements after working on the farms, his joints feeling soreness he wasn't used to, or when he was working on his replacement PAK and hadn't taken a break for hours. But it was rather noticeable. As if he were floating in water. He sat up on the couch, the blanket falling away, and looked around the room. The corners were bending out, curving the sharp edges.
Tap… tap… tap…
What was that?
He rubbed his eyes and checked again. He was met with the same oddity. Zim looked warily to the door. He had been here before, hadn't he?
Had he?
Tap, tap, tap…
He stood up, the blanket gone, and his attention too occupied to notice. He could see the door fine. That detail failed to register to him. He pressed the panel, sliding the door open slowly. A heavy pressure formed in his chest, weighing him down. His breath caught in his throat. The hallway was just as dark as the room.
Tap, tap, tap...
It wasn't coming from the door itself, just the other side. He hesitated opening the door further. Then, in a daze, he started to push again. The door slotted into place, and he looked out into the hall, with a new red light shining over the hallway. At the closet, he could see two bodies on the floor, crumpled, face down, and in puddles. Blood was splattered across the floor and walls. The entity was at the doorway of the closet, chuckling, bloodied claws tapping the floor.
He snapped awake, falling off the couch in a bundle of blanket and flailing limbs. His "heart" was racing, threatening to stop, if his PAK wasn't regulating it. He gasped, sitting up and kicking the blanket away, the feeling of it constricting him—pressing in and holding him down. He scrambled away from the couch, slamming open the room's door. The light of the hall flooded and in and Dib looked up at him.
He was still on his laptop, typing away any information he'd been squeezing from the entity. Gaz was sat back to back with him, on her phone and sipping another soda. She set her phone down and stared at him curiously, her brow furrowing.
"Zi—"
Zim had closed the space between them in seconds. He almost just fell down to wrap them in his arms, but his gaze lingered on the door of the closet, vision turning red. He could hear chuckling from the darkness. Dib quickly stood, wrapping his arm at Zim's waist.
"Zim! Zim, the salt!"
Who gives a damn about the salt?! Zim hooked a claw at the frame of the door. Dib had hoisted him up, keeping his feet from the floor.
"Zim, the salt."
"Hey, hey," Gaz got up, using her hands to ward off Zim's legs.
She grabbed his hand, holding it as Dib pulled him away. She slid the closet door shut, cutting off most of the noise from the entity. The blasted thing was still laughing at him—
Gaz wiped a tear off his cheek. Zim stiffened. She wiped away another and his body started to go limp. Dib sat them down on the floor with a sigh, keeping a hold on his midsection, and Gaz knelt with them. Zim was shaking, his claws digging into the floor, his antennae flat against his skull. He jerked away when Gaz tried to wipe at his face again. She paused, lowering her hand and leaning back. Panic shot through him and he grasped for her, pulling her in by her top and hugging her tight.
Gaz shifted in his grasp, getting one arm free so she could brace herself and readjust to something more comfortable. He only lightened his hold enough to be sure that he wasn't constricting her breathing, and so she could move around, but not wriggle free.
"Zim…?" she asks slowly.
"Neither of you are leaving me," Zim mumbled into her shoulder.
"Wh—of course we aren't," Dib assured him.
"What happened?" Gaz asks. Zim held her closer. He leaned back into Dib, pulling her with him, until he was leaning his entire weight onto Dib. He didn't have enough arms for them. "Hey. Was it that thing?"
Zim only nodded.
"Do you want it gone?" Gaz asks. She gestured to her bat. Zim nodded again.
"You can. I don't think I'll get much from it, regardless," Dib admitted dejectedly. "I'm sorry."
"Do you want to borrow my bat?" Gaz offered. Zim took a second to let the offer sink in. Not because he wanted to take her up on it, but purely that he was processing she'd offered at all. He sighed, letting her go and turning to lay chest to chest with Dib instead. He rested his head at his collarbone.
"I cannot bother to," he admitted. His limbs felt like lead blocks, rooting him to his spot. "I just want it gone."
"…I have an idea," Gaz announces. She passed the closet, grabbing her soda and downing the last of it as she grabbed her bat and disappeared down the hall. "Give me ten minutes!"
Dib watched her, wringing his hands, and chuckling nervously. He swallowed, trying to remain calm as they waited. He shuffled them to the opposite wall, leaning against it. He could hear her rummaging through drawers in one of the labs—he guessed—and then the sound of banging on a table. He cleared his throat, turning back to Zim. Zim was staring down the hall, head tilted just enough to do so, looking exasperated.
Gaz reappeared soon after, scrolling through her phone. She tapped the bat on the ground, slowing her pace as she approached, reading. Zim looked her up and down, trying to see what she'd done. It took him a moment, but his eye caught the nails in her bat weren't the same. Aside from the obvious that they were all straight and new, they were different colors. Half of them were bright silver that shimmered in the light of the hall, whilst the other half were a dark grey that seemed dull even up close. They were split equally down the center of the bat's end. She nodded and stowed the phone in her pocket.
"Iron and silver works on most things, right?" Gaz asks. Dib nodded numbly, looking at the end of the bat.
"Gaz, you're not…"
"Oh," Gaz chuckled darkly, tapping the bat on the ground. She nodded, turning her devilish smile on the closet. "Yes, I am."
Dib whined. "I'm not sure that's necessary—"
"Oh, it's necessary. Do you want to wait until your turn for this gremlin's nightmare date? It's necessary," Gaz insisted, raising her bat. She tossed it up, catching the middle of the bat to avoid the nails, and holding the handle out to Zim. "Want the first swing?"
Zim looked at the bat, leveling his gaze over it. He flexed his fists open and closed several times before he shook his head. "Knock yourself out."
He waved her off towards the closet. Gaz held the bat out to him. "You're sure?" she pressed.
"I do not want to move," Zim sighed. He just didn't have the energy to try and dance around his reasoning as he normally might. He gestured to the closet again. "Hit it harder for me."
Gaz paused, watching him. Eventually, just as he was starting to feel uncomfortable under her gaze, she turned on her heel to the closet. "Will do," she says, readying it to swing as she approached. Zim moved off Dib, sitting beside him.
"How do you think she knows it'll work?" Dib whispered.
He turned to Zim, noting that the bags under his eyes were still harsh. He shrugged, leaning against Dib's shoulder and closing his eyes. His head was feeling lightheaded, the hallway beginning to sway under him. He grumbled, slipping down the wall to curl into Dib's side.
"Good exercise if it doesn't," Zim mumbled.
He watched as Gaz carefully stepped up to the closet, stepping over the circle, and sliding the door open. The entity was at the door, face pressed to the floor, looking through the small gap between door and floor. It scrambled back when Gaz slid the door open. Though, it wasn't fast enough.
Gaz brought the nailed bat down upon it, striking it in the head, right between its eyes. The body fell limp immediately, twitching there on the floor. She swung down on it again. Again and again, in a rhythmic motion. There hadn't even been a yelp. No sound of pain, not one indignant word, just one swift and decisive hit and that was it. Zim watched vacantly. He had expected some sort of catharsis, or a sense of relief, but he felt devoid of anything. He was just tired.
He couldn't do this solo. Even with the entity gone—or soon to be. if Gaz didn't kill it, Dib would find a way—he needed a different source of assistance. He couldn't trust Gir with these tasks without risking that the robot would either raise hell, get captured, or bring attention back onto the base. Someone who could be tracked and caught with as little consequence as possible.
He had an idea of who would work for such a position. It wasn't ideal, but hardly anything in this situation was, and he could feasibly make it work. He could inconvenience Dib or Gaz any more than he already had. They'd practically moved into the base at this point. He had already taken up most of their time and concern. He closed his eyes, resting his head on the wall. Dib squirmed beside him, sucking air into his teeth, and ran a hand through his hair.
"I'll cleanse the closet," he whispered.
Zim smirked and chuckled. Gaz could tarnish that room was much as her heart desired, far as he was concerned. She could burn the corpse for all he cared. It wasn't as if she would catch the metal flooring or walls on fire. Dib patted his knee as he stood. Gaz had finally tired herself out and when Zim cracked open an eye to look her over. She was covered in blood splatter and breathing heavily.
He wouldn't admit it, but he was just a little regretful he didn't take her up on the offer.
"Feel better?" Dib asks as he neared her, inspecting the crime scene she'd crafted for herself. Zim could see as much of it as he wanted where he sat.
"Better than ever," Gaz admitted. She rested the bat over her shoulder. Dib leaned back out of the doorway, breaking the salt ring with his shoe.
"I think it worked," he says. "We'll bleach the closet, burn whatever bits we clean up, and I can cleanse it… Zim, there's other broom closets, right?"
"Yes, idiot."
"I'm gonna find a mop…" Dib mumbled, trudging down the hall. Gaz looked at her clothes, plucking at the top. Zim stood, waving her after him. She hesitantly looked back at the closet door. Zim peered at her and looked up.
"Computer."
"Yes?"
"Close the door to that closet. If it opens before any of us return, blast the entryway."
"Understood."
Zim led Gaz to a spare room. He pulled open a drawer and started to pluck out sleeveless T-shirts. He laid them out on top of the dresser for Gaz to inspect. Once she'd picked a color, he excused himself. In the hall, in the silence, with a massive weight of anxiety and dread lifted off his shoulders now, Zim started for the elevator.
It wasn't going to be a long trip. He was already calculating a route in his PAK. The face and name were easily found with a reverse image search based off the last time he'd seen the man. As soon as the PAK had found the name, it found social media pages, and then a work address.
"Zim?"
Zim stopped short of the elevator. He turned to Dib, who was carrying a mop, plus bucket, and a whole carton of bleach. "Hm?" Zim inquired. Dib looked at him a moment before Zim slowly shook his head. He grabbed the bucket from Dib's grasp.
"You're not cleaning," Dib says.
"I am aware. I can still be there," Zim assured him.
Dib didn't argue any further, silently allowing Zim to linger around the closet door as he started to clean up the scene. Zim wasn't complaining about the silence by any means. He didn't want to be alone, that was all. He could stand to be lost in his own thoughts. Gaz appeared shortly after, sporting one of Zim's shirts and a pair of his pants. He kept his mouth shut about it. He'd rather she be in something clean than something defiled by blood and whatever other matter had splattered across her.
He busied himself by calculating the time it would take to reach Desmond. Or, perhaps he could try that Trudy woman. He could get what he needed out of any of them, truthfully.
But, Trudy was too… outwardly enthusiastic. Desmond at least waited until they were alone to start bowing to him. He could keep a low profile. Out of many of the "followers" he'd unintentionally gained, Desmond was perhaps his best choice for indiscretion. His antennae flicked to his right as Dib groaned, cracked his back, and dragged the trash bag out of the closet.
"Ok, I think I got it all," he says.
"If you did not, you got enough," Zim says.
"Yeah. Okay, I'm throwing this in the furnace shoot. I have to message Loch again, let them know what it was and how to kill it, curtesy of Gaz," Dib explained. Zim hummed, following him down the hall. Dib turned to him, clenching and unclenching his free hand. "You're… not gonna leave, right? While I'm busy with that?"
"I won't do anything," Zim assured him. Dib grimaced. He threw the bag down the shoot.
"I'm going to join my team on a raid, if you want to watch," Gaz offered, motioning towards the lab with the largest monitor. "I brought my gaming system this time."
"Maybe."
"I'm gonna contact Loch. I'll probably be a while, I'll be filing a report."
"More like defrauding them with one," Gaz teased. Dib sighed.
"They never follow up, anyway," he says, waving it off.
Both siblings set up in the same room. Dib resolving to simply do his report over chat and online means than on a call, so he could stay with Gaz and Zim alike. Zim waited, for Dib to be thoroughly deep in his report and Gaz to be mid-raid, before he got up. A quick excuse of checking his farming plots and he was leaving the room without suspicion.
He wouldn't be gone long. Even with his PAK lacking top performance, it could vault him across rooftops faster than he could run, and the Voot would have to fly too low. Luck was on his side as he left the base under the cover of darkness. The sun was still almost an hour from rising, giving him just enough time to get to Desmond and back if he could make it quick. The man worked overnights at a small diner only a few miles from the base.
The sheer knowledge that the man was so close to the base for most of the week was disconcerting on its own, but Zim tried to ignore it. So long as the location of his base was kept confidential, he didn't have to worry about any of the followers finding him when he didn't want to be found. The diner itself was sandwiched between two larger buildings, the back alleyway opening up to a small, rectangular area behind the diner where their dumpsters and pieces of the buildings systems sat outside view of any passerby. It made for a surprisingly great layout for Zim to lower down with his PAK legs, hooking into the grooves and textures of the walls, until he was hovering in the corner of the diner's back and one of the buildings.
There was a security camera at the back of the diner, pointed to the back door. Zim followed the angle, trying to recall what the typical field of view for one of these cameras was. As it happened, it didn't seem to catch the dumpsters in its view. He relocated closer to them. He waited a few minutes, debating if he should make a racket to lure someone out—with just the chance it was Desmond—or go in himself and pull him aside. It would draw too much attention if he pulled him aside, though, wouldn't it?
His employers would certainly ask him who the strange teen beckoning him into the alleyway was. So, Zim swiftly rejected the notion. He hadn't had to wait long, though, as the back door swung open and Desmond stepped out, trash bags in hand. The door swung shut behind him as he hefted the bags to the dumpsters.
Zim moved silently, hovering over Desmond, in the dark shadow cast from the shade of the overhead light. He roosted there, his PAK legs caging him in. Desmond shut the dumpster and paused. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. He looked up, catching sight of Zim's silhouette, and the red glow of his eyes. Desmond gasped and stepped back, and Zim left the light. His PAK legs caught at the corner of the two buildings, dropping him down enough that he could grab Desmond by his arms and hoist him back up. The PAK legs hefted them both to the rooftop. Zim dropped Desmond onto the concrete roof. The PAK legs retracted back into the PAK and Zim watched as Desmond scrambled to his feet.
"Wise one! Is it time? Are you here to lead us to—"
"I need you to do something for me," Zim says, raising his hand to cut him off.
"Of course! Say the word!" Desmond says eagerly. The PAK produced a list, and Desmond watched the simple action with awe, into Zim's grasp.
"This is something I know a human can handle," Zim begins, handing off the list. "I don't have the time to get everything, I'm on a time limit, so I'm contracting you out. Understand?"
"Yes! Yes, of course. I will do my very best."
He had better. Or, this was a complete waste of time and effort. An unnecessary risk purely because Zim didn't want to hinder the siblings with his baggage. If this man wasted his efforts, he really might dissect him. Desmond read over the list, his face growing slightly confused.
"I think I can find it all," he says. "I will find a way."
"Use your companions to your advantage if you must," Zim says. "But you are the only one to drop off the parcel when you've got everything. You have a week. Bring it back here, left between the dumpsters, and I will retrieve it."
"I understand."
Zim nodded, he grabbed Desmond again by his shirt, using his PAK to lower him back to the ground. He ignored whatever declarations Desmond was calling after him as he disappeared back up one of the neighboring buildings. Zim watched and waited until Desmond had disappeared back into the diner before he came back down.
He found the singular security camera and plugged in. It took seconds for the PAK to establish a satellite link with the camera. The PAK deposited a small signaling jack into his palm. He disconnected the wire from the camera, fixing it to the signal jack instead, and plugged it back into the camera. He fitted it into the arm of the camera. Once the PAK had established a link and he confirmed he could see through the camera's lens, he started for the base. He established a facial recognition for the PAK to Desmond. It would notify him every time Desmond appeared in the alleyway, and if he was carrying a box, he could leave immediately to retrieve it.
If Desmond could complete this task, he would have everything he needed. He could get better parts from a market later, when he was certain that he wasn't going to risk a shut down on the trip there. He was fortunate that Earth was established enough in their technology that he could make something this makeshift for a PAK. He'd be lacking some functions, but everything essential he could fabricate. GPS for Earth was easy to obtain. As was internet access. While he was limited to the Earth, he could at least use it as a starting point for the upgrades he would add later.
Not every part of his current PAK was unusable, either. He could salvage certain functions, like the plasma gun, or the tablet. Related tools that he stored, anything in his storage containers, and the actual legs would be easy to transfer.
By the time he'd reached the base the sun was set to rise soon. He'd been gone for almost twenty five minutes. He landed in the lawn and slipped through the door with a sigh. He was exhausted—a notion that made it hard to breathe. He hadn't exerted himself that much, he was certain. Perhaps he was starting to "crash", or whatever nomenclature humans used. He trudged to the elevator, leaning on the wall as it descended back to the level Gaz and Dib were occupying. He closed his eyes, mapping out where to step once the door opened so he didn't smack right into the edge of the doorway.
Once he stepped off, he was tackled. It wasn't by Gir, the body was too large. That also, thankfully, meant that it wasn't the entity, either, back for vengeance.
"Fucking liar!" Dib shouted, grappling Zim. The landing hurt. But, at least it was just Dib.
"Release me!"
"You said you were checking the garden. NOT that you were leaving!" Dib shouted. Zim elbowed Dib hard enough to knock the air from his lungs and loosen his grip. He wriggled free, kicking out when Dib tried to grab at his ankle. "OW!"
"I can leave this base whenever I please, you monkey."
"Can you blame him for being concerned?" Gaz asks, leaning on the wall.
That's one way to express it… Zim thought. "I can blame him for bruising my entire left side."
"Sorry…" Dib mumbled, rubbing his ribs. "Please, don't randomly leave like that."
"I was handling something," Zim says. Dib's face soured and he stood, linking their arms and hoisting Zim down the hall. "What-?!"
"You said that at the convention, too," Dib says. "You "handle" things. You never ask for help for any of that, I noticed. We can help."
"It's not a concern—"
"Stop saying that!" Dib snapped. Zim clamped his mouth shut, staring at him. Dib deposited him into the couch, facing the paused game screen Gaz had left, and glowered down at him. "It IS a concern! You left without your disguise! You could've been spotted! Don't tell me I shouldn't be concerned when you don't care about getting dissected anymore!"
Zim stared at him, at a loss.
"We can help you," Dib stressed. "Just tell us how and we can do it. I can't do anything when you're just bottling it all up all the time. Haven't we gotten to the point that you can tell us what you need?"
"…I…" Zim looked to the floor, antennae drooping.
Gaz shared a glance with Dib. He motioned to Zim, brows raised expectantly. Gaz shook her head once. He nodded to Zim, expectant again. Gaz glanced between the two. She threw her hands up, giving Dib several middle fingers even as she rounded around the couch, and sat down next to Zim with a sigh.
"Your PAK is broken," she says. Zim stiffened beside her. She grimaced, reluctantly reaching her arm out and pulling close in a one-sided hug. Zim could only lean there, bewildered. "Just… lean on us a little."
Dib sat on the floor, pulling his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. He avoided Zim's gaze. Zim squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He lifted Gaz's arm off him and leaned back.
"It will be fixed soon." He held up his hand when Dib whipped around to look at him. "AND, if I need assistance, I shall ask."
"You promise?" Dib asks, narrowing his eyes. Zim was silent. He clenched the fabric of his shirt. After a few moments he looked back up at Dib.
"I will tell you."
Dib studied his face. He wasn't oblivious to Zim's wordplay. It was possibly the best he'd get, however. He didn't have the energy to argue more than absolutely necessary. He could drag it out, for hours if need be, but that would only aggravate them all. If they were going to have an actual, productive discussion about this, he'd have to wait until they had all had proper rest.
"I want to know…" Dib began, lightly scratching at his knee. "…because I'm scared…"
His voice cracked and he took his glasses off so he could hide his face in his arms. He didn't want to show any tears to Zim, not now and not ever, if he could help it. He was absolutely not going to cry, though. He swallowed, both his pride and his dignity. He flinched at the touch of a 3 fingered hand resting on his head.
"I will tell you," Zim promised.
Dib nodded. He stood, dusting himself off. "Okay, then," he said. He stood stiff, unsure what to do, and looked to Gaz for help.
"Bed," Gaz said flatly.
Zim made to stand, halted when she held his sleeve. She pulled him back to her, as she kicked up her feet on the couch, leaning her back onto him. Zim rested into the cushions, leaving her to nod off on his side, using his shoulder as a headrest. Dib snickered. He took up the space on Zim's opposite side, leaning against him as well.
"I am not a bed," Zim says curtly.
"Five minutes," Gaz mumbled. Zim rested his head on the back of the couch, glowering at the ceiling.
Five minutes turned to five hours, and he had nodded off at some point. He came back to consciousness laying under a blanket with both siblings already gone. He could hear them in the next room, talking and playing a game, or perhaps watching something.
He tried to sit up, pain racing through his body when he pushed off the couch. He gasped and instantly regretted it. Pain spread through his body like webs, stretching out from the base of his back and his chest to the rest of his abdomen. Did he have lungs? Not a human equivalent, but he certainly felt like if he did, they would currently be on fire.
Full of kerosene and threatening to ignite with the slightest breath. Adding to it, his insides were shriveling, shrinking even as he stood there trying to keep his breath even. He braced himself on the couch, and his arms were shaky. Zim huffed out a gasp, wobbling his way past the doorway into the hall.
"D-Dib?"
Dib shot out of the neighboring room, turning to him. He dropped a notebook to the floor, rushing to the door and grabbing Zim by the arms. "What? What's wrong?"
Zim could only shake his head. His brain wasn't foggy. He was hyper aware of everything he was feeling, he thought…aside from his limbs. Everything else was fire.