EDIT: I updated some inconsistencies in this chapter; and have done so with other chapters as well. Thanks to Cyan Quartz for mentioning it; because I had actually kept pretty horrible notes for this in the start and ended up contradicting myself! So, they're mostly cosmetic fixes.

PART 23: Surgery

Zim sighed, rubbing at his forehead as he poured over a new invention. He was trying his hardest to best the inferior human "alchemists" that Dib had told him about—at length—who couldn't do something as simple as matter conversion. Yet, turning anything into gold WAS proving to be quite a challenge for the Irken. Much to his dismay. It was entirely his own fault he had made it a personal challenge to discover the secret to this method. He heard the television flick on over an hour ago and had been doing the most he could to ignore the noise. Although, he did concede that his superior hearing was an annoyance rather than an advantage in this situation.

"Traffic on the I-59 is reduced to a crawl due to a crash between three vehicles…"

"Gir, MUST you watch the news of all things? Zim would rather hear one of those disgraceful "reality" shows than hear humans report their own failures."

"But, Big-Head is on it!" Gir called over his shoulder. He stuffed another handful of peanut butter, effectively making any further communication a moot point. Zim paused, relaying the information he'd picked up before interrupting the announcer and then bolted from his seat. He was beside Gir and watching the screen intently seconds later.

Dib was indeed on the tv; and on a long white stretcher. He was conscious, if his open eyes and grimace were anything to go by, but clearly not all right. Zim had learned by now that being loaded into the loudly annoying vehicles Dib was constantly correcting as ambulances was a bad thing. He spotted Gaz in the back of another ambulance in the other lane. She was being treated by a paramedic, who was simply focused on her head while Gaz watched them take Dib away. Zim couldn't be sure if he was seeing her expression right given the quality of the screen and the distance, but she looked genuinely worried.

That was a terrifying thought.

Zim watched as the situation fell sickeningly into place for him. Dib had been in an accident. He was on a stretcher and being taken to a hospital. Where they perform surgery…. With much more archaic technology than Zim had available. And he couldn't retrieve him without arousing a mountain of suspicion.

'Shit.' He thought. Zim clenched his fist. He swallowed a lump in his throat. He hadn't thought anything—or anyone—could slow Dib down long enough to allow anyone else to strap him down. And yet, Dib HAD been slowed down considerably from this. It was confusing, aggravating, and Zim hated to admit it; but he was scared for Dib.

Zim whipped out his communicator and started to dial Gaz. He watched as she shifted when it started to ring and pick up, waving the paramedic away before resorting to threatening a punch to the face. Zim had to admit that he appreciated Gaz's 'no beats around the bush' policy on life.

"Hello?"

Her voice was surprisingly confused. Zim realized he'd never installed any identifying number into her own communication device. "It's Zim."

"What are you calling me for? I'm not in the mood in the biggest way."

"What hospital is he at?" Zim asked in a quipped tone.

Gaz paused. "What?"

"The hospital they took Dib to! Where is it?" Zim said louder, growing impatient. Gaz groaned and he saw her rub at her head.

"Stop shouting. Headache. It's the big Memorial one downtown. It was closest. Just go see your boyfriend and leave me to die here. …Oh, don't give me that look, I'm joking. I'm not dying."

Zim watched Gaz chew out the paramedic as she spoke to him and almost felt as if he could be watching her from down the road. He let her snide remark slide and hung up. "Gir, watch the house. I'm going… out. For a few hours, at least."

"Tell Big-Head I said hi!" Gir said, his voice slightly muffled by the peanut butter and he waved as Zim moved towards the door.

Zim's hand paused on the door handle and he sighed. Gir was more perceptive than he gave the robot credit for. It wasn't hard to know where Zim was going; yet Gir had missed the hints in the past and so Zim still took note of it. He would almost say the robot had genuine feelings for the human. …Zim conceded the robot might have enough of an AI system for that to be a real possibility and left the base.

His PAK was already calculating the path to the hospital. It was a good hour away if Zim kept up his current pace. In the relatively empty streets, he didn't have to worry about witnesses to his speed. However, Zim was cautious about getting lost in the city again. He'd installed the GPS weeks after THAT incident, so he wouldn't have a repeat event. It would take him more like an hour and a half because of that. He would have to deal. He thanked Irk that the weather was at least agreeable.

He tried to occupy his thoughts while he traversed the streets. He noticed that the streets were occasionally too busy for the time of day due to the traffic redirection and had to aggravatingly slow his own pace during those times. It was almost excruciating how long it took him to get to the hospital. Once he'd passed through the front doors his entire body reacted and he had lurched back.

Oh, IRK, HE'D FORGOTTEN ABOUT THE GERMS.

Zim raced to the front of the room towards the receptionists' desk. The disinfectants were calling to him like a beacon of paradise in a wasteland of decay. He pressed himself against the desk to keep his body as far from the diseases of the room as possible. Every cough or sniffle was another jolt of paranoia down his spine until the receptionist finished her incessant typing and looked up at him.

"Hello, how can I help you?" she asked, her voice trailing off in that way that humans' voices always trailed off when regarding Zim for the first time. Their curiosity over the green skin bubbling up despite the best of themselves.

"Patient visitation. Dib Membrane. He was in a car accident." Zim explained; short, sweet, and to the point. The faster he got this handled the faster he got out of this death trap of a room and into Dib's own sterilized heaven-scape.

The receptionist tacked away at her computer. "And you're name?"

"Zim. Vasquez. School friend." Zim said, trying to subvert any additional questioning. He tapped his foot impatiently until the receptionist finally finished her search.

"Ah, here he is. He's still in surgery, but there is a waiting area down the hall. He'll be in room 42B when he's done. I'll let a nurse know you're here so they can get you to him once he's set up."

"…Thanks." Zim said—more out of polite manners than any actual thanks. He was far more concerned about Dib's condition than where he was. Zim had started to leave when he stopped halfway around the desk. "What is his condition?"

"I can't discuss that, technically. He's not in danger of dying. That's all I'll say. And that his surgery might take the betterment of an hour or so. There are magazines." She offers sheepishly. Zim grimaced. She knew he'd come unprepared for the long wait. He wondered how many people did that daily.

Zim found the waiting room easily. It was the only large space that wasn't cut off by doors and was populated by chairs along the wall and in rows. The receptionist was true to her word about the magazines: they lined every table. Old issues that were months overdue for a replacement. Zim scanned the room and noted a few things. First, that there were other types of books that looked to be children's materials set alongside equally simple games. Second, that the room was practically devoid of anyone. Thirdly, that down another hall was a small café, of all things. Zim also noted that Dib's father had yet to arrive; if he would.

Zim wasn't sure how Dib's father would be notified. Perhaps Gaz would contact him. If Dr. Membrane showed up Zim would be surprised. Dib had explained humans avoid spaces that make them uncomfortable or that bring up bad memories. He'd mentioned that his mother passed away in a hospital; and Zim's spine chilled at the connotation that brought forwards to him. He physically shook that thought from his mind. He wondered what he'd do to cheer the human up once he'd woken up from the drugs. He'd be feeling like shit. Zim hummed and looked over the magazine covers from his seat. One was specific to medical advancements and Zim picked it up instantly.

Not to his own surprise, the humans were still in juvenile stages in terms of their own medicine and technology. That said, he was shocked they'd already made something resembling a bionic eye. They could destroy their own planet and not bat an eye, but a small advancement such as that and they lost their minds over 'cyborg' conspiracies. Zim chuckled and reached back to drop the magazine into his PAK. Dib would enjoy reading that article.

Zim spent most of his time flipping lazily through articles. He'd tear out an odd page or pocket an entire magazine if he found something else Dib might enjoy. It wasn't until almost forty minutes had passed that his covered antennae picked up a muffled voice mutter Dib's name. He was out of the OR? That was a good sign, it hadn't taken too long. Zim moved towards the doors that led down to the patient rooms. He poked his head through and jumped when he saw a nurse's station down the hall. He hadn't thought the hallway was going to be so devoid as to provide no cover at all. A nurse looked up and smiled.

"Hi! You can come on in; just be quiet."

Zim awkwardly made his way to the desk. "Um. I'm looking for Dib Membrane. Room 42B?"

"Oh! Yes, the front desk had called about that. He's down the hall to the left. Just look at the door markers and you'll find it."

Zim nodded curtly and walked quickly down the hall. He found the room in moments. He was infinitely grateful that he wasn't going to be hassled for his identification. When he entered Dib's room a few things hit him just as they had in the waiting room. First, that Dib was unconscious and inanimate in a way that so highly contrasted his usual energy that Zim had to do a double take to be sure he was breathing. Second, the intense smells of antiseptics, painkillers, and whatever else they'd globbed onto him. Thirdly, that Dib's arm and opposite leg were both in pins and rods. They hadn't cast them yet. How barbaric.

As Zim got nearer he could see that Dib had an IV in his uninjured arm. Zim almost growled. It was pathetic! How humans were still relying on needles was beyond Zim. PAKs were used to administer fluids—if they were needed—so needles had become obsolete generations ago on Irk. He looked over the boy.

He was in the ridiculous hospital gown with his clothes nowhere in sight. He'd be unhappy about that. Zim took a mental note to grab a spare pare of his clothes from his house before he had to leave in… that.

Zim sat down beside Dib's bed in the only chair in the room. The window had a small bench, but it was too far for Zim to be comfortable with. At the least, it was comfortable. Zim looked him over once more, focused on how Dib had never looked so broken before. Zim had been careful to keep from breaking bones when they'd fought. He'd been careful not to harm Dib so much he had to miss school. Zim never would have heard the end of it. And this was so out of place for the Irken. Dib would be furious if he knew how different he looked. Zim was just finishing that thought when Dib groaned.

"Ow. …Zim?"

Zim sat up straighter. Dib was looking… in his general direction. Ah. His glasses. Zim spotted them on the bedside table and set them on Dib's face for the boy. "Better?"

"Loads. What are you doing here? That was fast."

"You're aware where you are? Zim thought humans were disoriented from surgery."

"I didn't have brain surgery," Dib chided him. Zim huffed in annoyance at him, blowing a lock of his wig out of his face. "The painkillers are making me feel weird. Where's Gaz?"

"Fine. She could walk. They let her go, I imagine. If she didn't try to fight the paramedics."

Dib laughed, immediately regretting it and wincing. Zim felt his antennae lower a little as he watched. He readjusted in his seat. He looked awkwardly at the table he'd grabbed the glasses from to see he'd accidentally left claw marks in his haste. He hummed and looked away again. Dib did a check of the room.

"Where's Dad? His lab?"

Zim pursed his lips at the already expectant tone in Dib's voice that he knew the answer. Zim nodded mutely, not sure if Dr. Membrane would come at all until Dib needed brought home. And if Zim offered to take him, Dr. Membrane wouldn't come to the hospital at all. Dib sighed and sank down in his bed, crestfallen. He made a 'tsk' noise.

"I figured. Well, he would have just left when you showed up, anyway."

The sad fact of that had Zim looking away from Dib yet again. He couldn't seem to keep eye contact with him. Was it… bad that Zim had come instead of Dib's father? No, he surmised, it was good he'd come. It was bad on Dib's father's part that he hadn't.

"He'll be fawning over me for a few solid days when I get home, though. It's okay."

Zim perked up at this. "He will be?"

"Definitely. He can work from home; he just prefers his lab. I won't be able to shake him. Or Gaz. In her own way. She'll be skittish and check in on me because she'd rather get shot than admit she was worried. I like that about her, to an extent."

"As does Zim."

"Hmm."

The silence was tangible as they sat—well, Dib laid—in the room. Dib heard a small noise from Zim. A small clicking noise and an angry hiss. Wait, angry? Dib regarded the Irken cautiously. He couldn't seriously be angry at Dib for getting hit by that idiot on the highway, could he? Zim's eyes were narrowed down to slits and his breathing was steady; but it was clearly the breathing rhythm of someone who was furious.

"Zim?"

"Who had hit you?"

Dib chuckled. "No, you're not gonna kill anyone."

"…Could've humored me a little." Zim mumbled. Dib chuckled again, not daring to laugh any harder than that. He sighed contently.

"Thanks for coming. I feel like shit." Dib began. Before he could go into what Zim was sure would have been a sap-filled speech his PAK was dumping the magazines on Dib's cot. "What's this?"

"Magazines and articles Zim thought you might enjoy. Some mention conspiracies," Zim added as an afterthought. He watched Dib's face light up as he rummaged through the pile with his good arm.

Yes, I completely intended that little nod with Zim's faked last name~! And yes, some hospitals have little café's. They're probably not as close to the waiting areas as this one is (just down the hall before the restrooms); but the hospital in my Capital city has a café just past the waiting area for those poor folks who are going to be a long while. I always thought it was a nice touch. If hard to find something to eat when you can't have wheat and don't drink coffee, anyway. ANYWHO, this turned into a two-parter (maybe more, we'll see) when I realized it was WAY too long after finishing the first part so far lmao. Just under 2,800 words. A bit more than what I usually aim for. Also, this took so long because I'm currently job searching in my chosen field and I've been caught up in that, so enjoy!