I have maybe two or three chapters left with this arc (we'll see when we get there)! I'm both excited and very nervous to start the next chapter. We'll see how it goes.

Enjoy!

Part 48: Surveillance

Dib chewed at his pencil's eraser. Zim watched it with only mild disgust. The thought of the amount of surfaces that eraser had touched previously was just too much to bear. Zim promptly and blatantly turned his attention to the sketchbook. Dib had been drawing something that looked suspiciously like a ray gun. Zim poked at the sketches.

"What are you designing now? Give up on the improved gas station?" he asked coyly.

Dib gave him a deadpan stare, flipping the sketchbook to a page further in the front. On it was the designs, the finals, by the looks of them. Zim had to admit, aesthetically it was far better than the design it would have gotten. It was impressive how well conceived it was, while also having the same basic design elements for functionality. Zim glanced back up at Dib, who was smiling proudly and smugly at him.

"Alright, I admit, it is far better than the previous design."

"THANK YOU." Dib says, flipping back to the other design with gusto. He was radiating pride. Zim couldn't help but smile at it. He laid over the table, his chair tilting on the wheels. A PAK leg extended, balancing the chair out so it didn't topple.

"But what is that?" Zim asks again.

"A freeze ray. I've always wanted to make one, ever since I saw it used on a cartoon when I was a kid. The concept itself is pretty out there, though. The closest thing would be to somehow shoot liquid nitrogen out of a water gun like a regular water gun. But that's not possible. I think." Dib muses. He looks down the length of the sheet again. "I mean, I don't THINK it's possible."

"Let me see." Zim pulled the sketchbook over into view. He scanned the notes Dib had jotted down and smirked. "It's possible, simply very difficult. We could use tools here in the labs. Perhaps make a compound mix to delay the freezing effect."

Dib's entire being beamed. Zim could feel the joy radiating off him. He pushed the sketchbook back to him. Dib started to pack up, stretching until his back popped. Zim still flinched at the noise, looking at Dib's back with utmost concern. If Dib was going to insist on doing that with his spine all the time… Zim just had to accept it as the habit it was. He doubted it was something he could convince Dib to break.

"Is that something all humans do?" he asks.

"A lot do. It feels better afterward. Like something was put back in place," Dib says, sighing contently.

"That sounds like something is wrong with your spine."

"My spine is fine."

"Does Gaz do the same thing?"

"Yeah, of course. Everyone in the house does. It feels better afterward." Dib explains. He pauses, slinging his back over his shoulder. "I mean, sometimes the pop hurts but it only lasts a second."

"You risk breaking your back!" Zim wails.

"We don't risk breaking our backs!" Dib laughs.

Dib started off towards the elevator. Zim chased after him, expertly dodging Gir's attempt at a tackle when the robot noticed them leaving. He caught Gir by his antenna, holding him in his arms as he rode the elevator up with Dib.

"He looks like a stuffed bear, with you holding him like that," Dib says. He pokes at Gir's head, eliciting a giggle from the robot. Zim grumbled, readjusting Gir when he squirmed and gave a shrill whine. "Gir, he's technically hugging you, be still."

At the notion Gir stopped moving. Zim stared at him in something akin to abject horror. The over exaggeration succeeded in getting Dib to laugh. Zim smirked at the success. He released Gir once they'd reached the top and the robot barreled into the kitchen immediately. Zim thought warily about what he'd possibly try to craft—they were out of milk and flour. He decided he would simply deal with that when he got back. He followed Dib out of the house, the door locking automatically behind him. Dib as talking about something or other—a monster he had heard about recently—and Zim was focused on scouting out the cars. His PAK fed him moments to respond, keeping Dib focused on his current obsession. Even as Zim spotted the car in question, sat a block or two from Dib's house. He kept his breath steady, holding Dib's arm to slow him down as they hit the block of his house. Dib looked at him, expectantly.

"What?"

"Dib-stink, have you noticed something about your street recently?" Zim asks. Dib pursed his lips, looking up and down the block. Zim caught his eyes settling on the car for a moment.

"You noticed it, too?" he asks. Zim glowered at him.

"You knew it was there, but you didn't say anything. Why?"

"It's some recruitment agency. They came to talk to me. Affiliated with NASA, or something. I'm interested but they were weird," Dib explains. Zim held back a growl, eyeing up the car. He could see two people sitting inside it.

"Weird how?" Zim presses. Dib gives off a whine. One that Zim had learned from him and their classmates meant he wasn't going to be forthcoming. Zim's antennae twitched with agitation. He bumped shoulders with Dib, stopping at his doorway. "You don't wish to indulge. Fine. Another time."

"You're not gonna drop it," Dib says glumly. Zim smirks at him devilishly.

"Absolutely not. I am only allowing you to return home without me as a guard because I'm aware of the security of your home. And Gaz. She is quite vengeful," Zim says. Dib smirked.

"Don't go telling her that, she'll take it as a compliment."

Zim scoffed, waving Dib off on his way back down the sidewalk. He was careful to avert his gaze from the car. As much as he wanted to glare daggers into the vehicle, and as much as he wanted to run up and flip it, he couldn't act on anything until he knew why there were there.

Dib pushed himself inside, slipping his bag off before he'd completely stepped through the door.

"Son! I was just about to escort an old friend out of the house for good," his father pronounced.

Dib paused, looking up. It was always odd to hear his father being so abjectly blunt about some things. Dib felt his hands start to sweat when he spotted them in the living room. Brandon was still sitting at the couch. He turned to Dib and smiled with a wave. Gaz was in the kitchen doorway, her fingers mashing on the Game Slave while her eyes were boring daggers into the back of Brandon's head.

Ah. She was pissed.

Dib forced a smile on his face. "Brandon, what are you doing here?"

"This lad came to try and lure you back to the side of pseudo-science," Professor Membrane says. He stood, eyeing Brandon until he did as well, rather sheepishly. When Membrane spoke again it was the tone he used when he'd made up his mind and nothing was changing it. "He was just leaving."

Brandon gave a nervous laugh. "Mr. Membrane, if you recall—"

"I recall you perfectly fine. Time to go," Membrane says, gesturing his hand to the door. Dib looked between them. He looked at Gaz. She sighed, giving up the pretense of her losing game.

"Mr. Whatshisface is the one who recommended the agents check you out in the first place," Gaz says. "He showed up today asking what you'd decided."

"I haven't," Dib confessed. He opened the door. "I don't remember giving you my address."

Gaz's gaze slid to the back of Brandon's head. She started eyeing the knives in the drawer. Dib hastily crossed the room and grabbed Brandon by the arm.

"Well, anyway, time to go. I'll let the nice, sarcastic agents know my decision." Dib says. Brandon gives him a curious look. He stands on the front step and glances down the street. He spotted a patch of red and green leaning against a far-off tree. "Bye, Brandon."

Brandon turns to him, he steps off the front stoop, turning back with an oddly calm look. Dib had a strange feeling of unease run down his spine. "I just wanted to know what you knew about some things that were happening. You're the resident paranormal investigator. I thought you might know about it."

"About what?"

"People who had been going missing until recently. Only to pop back up with a little less headspace about them. It was quiet and then the janitor at your school went missing a few days according to his neighbor and suddenly he's back on his doorstep one day without a lick of sense of where he was. Gosh, he looked a little worse for wear." Brandon whispers. Dib bit his tongue. "And then UFO activity at night spike again. A series of explosions in the atmosphere, and a strange object crashing in the woods. The feds are claiming a meteorite—but they always claim that. I heard from some fellow Eyeballs that it was something else. Something that could fry federal equipment. We sold them some of that stuff, you know. It doesn't just malfunction out of nowhere."

Dib stared him down. He could feel his sweat start to spread under his jacket and bead his forehead. He nodded once, plastering a look of interest on his face. "And I would have loved to see it, but you know how they don't let anyone near sites like that."

Brandon smiled again. He nodded. "Yeah, I do."

Dib looked down the street nervously. "Yeah, so uh. Bye."

Brandon looked down the opposite way, the patch of red and green gone. He turned back to Dib. "Tell it I said hi."

Brandon walked down the sidewalk briskly, getting into the car at the end of the block without looking back at Dib once. He watched as it drove away. Dib felt his father's hand on his shoulder as he left. He probably told him some form of 'I'll be at the lab'; but Dib couldn't hear him. His heart felt like it was in a vice grip. Gaz pulled him back inside, slamming the door. She stared at it a moment.

"What'd he say? You look paler than usual." She says. Dib gives a ragged sigh. He felt light-headed. He heard his window being forced open upstairs. Gaz's gaze flicked in the same direction before she settled on returning to her game. "I'm setting traps."

Dib only nodded as he made his way upstairs. Zim sat on his bed, toying with one of Dib's knick-knacks, staring at it too intently. Dib sat down in his desk chair, his knees feeling a little weak.

"You look sick."

"I feel sick."

Zim stops playing with the knick-knack. An old spaceship souvenir from Dib's time at space camp in the fourth grade. He looked at it until Zim spoke.

"What'd that worm say?" he asked. His tone was too even. Dib picked up on the rage hidden beneath it. It wasn't like when he'd gotten T-boned. Zim's tone was darker than that. Dib looked up at his ceiling, looking over the glowing stars.

"He said 'hi'." Dib says gruffly. Zim cocked his head. Dib's voice turned bitter. "He called you an 'it'."

Zim froze. He straightened his back. Dib stood, making for the door. He needed air. A PAK leg shot out, embedding in his wall. Dib stopped short. He took half a step back, stopping when a second leg shot out behind him.

"We're not done," Zim says. Dib gave a single nod. The legs retracted. Dib looked at the holes in his wall. They weren't large; but, he could fix it. He sat back down.

"You're still terrifying," he says. Zim flinched. "Only sometimes."

"Sorry…" Zim mumbles. He fiddles with the ship again for a moment. Dib sighs, dragging his hands down his face. "You didn't tell me."

Dib sank further into his seat, beat red. "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to worry."

"I am worried."

Dib huffed, to hide a chuckle. "You don't have to be. They won't hurt me."

"….I don't care," Zim says. Dib smiled despite himself. Zim moved to the side of the bed. Dib climbed up onto it with him. He hugged Zim's arm. Zim gave him a confused look, but let Dib pull him down so they were leaning against the wall.

"Hey, I'm worried, too." Dib says. "I don't want them coming after you."

"I can defend myself," Zim says. "Humans are… fragile."

"I'm not some doll!" Dib says, smacking Zim lightly on his chest. Zim just smirked at his antics.

"No, but you are fragile."

"We are NOT."

"Compared to Irkens—"

"THAT is an unfair comparison," Dib snorts. Zim smirked. He narrowed his brow next.

"Dib. I would like for you to stay at the base until this 'Brandon' has been dealt with," Zim says. Dib sat up, already shaking his head. "Dib."

"I'm not just going to leave Gaz here alone for who knows how long. Not to mention Dad will definitely make my life hell if I go so far as going missing."

Zim could poke a thousand holes in Dib's logic. It would have been laughable. He gave Dib a gruff grunt. Dib spit his tongue out at him.

"Zim, I'm not leaving. They haven't gotten violent. And they have no concrete proof you're what you are, or else they would have done something already, wouldn't they?"

"…Not entirely." Zim mumbles. Dib looked at him, a little worriedly.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"Dib, if they suspected I was an alien, would they just attempt to walk into my front door?" Zim asks. Dib blinks at him. He was fighting a smirk. "You do not count."

"I mean. Well. No, I guess not."

"My point exactly. Regardless of species, invasion and intel gathering are quite similar upon many fronts," Zim says. He sits against the wall, feeling a little more trapped than he had already. "They use those close to the target. They utilize them."

"…You're afraid they'll do something drastic."

"Yes."

"…Ok, how about this? I spend most of my time at your base, but I'm still going to sleep here. I can't have Dad thinking I'm loose in the woods or something, dying from a bear attack. And he won't believe 'I'm sleeping over at Zim's place' for possibly weeks on end as something to just brush off. He isn't that incompetent as a parent," Dib explains. Zim narrowed his eyes, starting to growl.

A knock on the door spooked him, a PAK leg jutting out, stopping just before the doorway. Gaz blinked slowly at it, pushing it out of her view with a single finger. She was glaring daggers at Zim's head. He retracted the PAK leg, moving behind Dib.

"IT WAS INSTINCT!"

"Do it again and I'm disemboweling you." Gaz spits. Zim nodded frantically. Gaz sighed, turning her attention to Dib now that her threat was sufficiently realized. "I'll give Dad whatever excuse I can think of under the sun for the other 90% of the time you're not here."

"You will?!" Dib shouts, shooting up from his bed. Zim scrambled for his jacket as a shield.

"Don't act surprised, you ass!" Gaz shouts. She was tempted to throw her Game Slave at him. She clutched it tightly instead, just barely resisting the urge. "If that Eyeball sucker takes either of you out, that's a personal blow against me. They'll have dug their grave. So, if staying with Zim keeps you out of trouble, I'm helping."

"I'm just shocked you'd lie to Dad so easily," Dib mumbles. Gaz slaps her hand to her face.

"Dib, just because you can't lie to him doesn't mean I can't," Gaz grumbles. "It just so happens most of the shit you pull makes whatever I'll say sound entirely possible. You make it too easy."

"I do not!" Dib sputters.

"Dib, your excuse the last time you went monster hunting was that you were going to shadow the local donut guy."

"…That could have worked."

"In your dreams." Gaz turns to Zim again finally. "If he ends up dead. YOU'RE dead. You hear me, bug?"

"DO NOT CALL ME A BUG!"

"Lizard."

"I AM NOT A LIZARD!"

Gaz walked away, pulling up her Game Slave without another care. Zim barged to the door, screaming out of it, but not chasing her down.

"TAKE IT BACK!"

"Make me, space bug."

"God, please don't," Dib begged. Zim fumed pacing Dib's room until he could cool off. He distracted himself with addressing Dib's house. The exterior could use some protective work.