Okay, okay, one more chapter before I post the final SOULS part (that I know of). I wanted to spend more time on it; and wrote this while I thought of how I wanted to handle the chapter. If any of you have found my old ZAGR fic (we're talking almost a decade old, I really gotta revise that one OOF) you will notice a similar idea in the next Souls chapter being brought up again because I just love the idea!

Anyway that's the next chapter! Besides, I had to get to this one at some point!

Finally, I did create a tumblr for this fic! a href=" "Right Here/a

Luckily, it's not against the guidelines to post a blog link, as far as I understand the terms of service, anyway.

Enjoy!

Part 53: Questioning

Gaz flipped her pen around, staring at her screen. The level had beaten her more than ten times now. Gaz was feeling a little angry that it wasn't because of a puzzle or a bug. Those would have been easier to swallow. Gaz stared at her messages. It had climbed steadily each time she failed a level and got angrier at the game, her friends either cheering her on or mocking her. She currently sat in her chair glaring at the start screen while she twirled her pen. She flipped it to her palm, clicking the end and throwing it across the desk.

She was ready to go again, stopping short only because she heard voices downstairs. She sighed, banging her head on the desk. A message tone hit her headphones and she peeked up at the screen.

BabaGirl: 'Is your bro home?'

Gaz sighed, taking off her headphones.

"One second. I have family to murder." She moved to her door, hearing both Dib and Zim downstairs. She flung it open, shouting down the stairs. "I'M TRYING TO PLAY HERE!"

She slammed the door before Dib could even respond. She sat back down with a heavy sigh. She wanted and didn't want to start playing again. She was almost burnt out on the game as it was, considering switching to another instead. She opted to give it one last shot. She got as far as placing the headphones on her head and setting her hands in place when she heard Zim start to cackle. She gripped the mouse and felt her eye twitch.

Ballan: 'Kill 'im.'

Gazian: 'It's not Dib, it's his boyfriend.'

Ballan: 'Oh…'

Ballan: 'Kill 'im.'

Gaz snorted. She heard Zim again, closer this time. She took her headphones off, abandoning them out of suspicion. She heard nothing else and put them back on. She settled into her chair again. She got as far as setting her hands on the keyboard when her door slammed open.

Gaz whipped around to glare at Zim—thankfully he was disguised because she had the camera on and she would have killed him—as he burst into her room. Uninvited. He caught sight of her glare and paused, still smiling like an idiot. He pulled the door shut and knocked. Gaz heard the message tone and glanced at it.

GNation: 'What a gentleman'

She threw her headphones down on her bed and stomped to her door. She pulled it open to a still grinning Zim. She raised an eyebrow at his grin—it looked too smug. It was suspicious. He leaned in a little. She caught a fearful looking Dib at the base of the stairs.

"Hello, Gazlene," Zim said.

Gaz could have crushed her doorknob right then and there. She slammed the door, hearing the satisfying shout of pain as it hit him square in the face and followed by Irken. She was almost positive he was swearing at her. Gaz found it cool and annoying to be sworn at in an alien language. She heard the messenger ping several times. She returned to the computer, stopping when she caught sight of the messaging board.

BabaGirl: 'Hey, you didn't say he was cute'

Gaz face palmed, face red. She was going to kill him.

GNation: 'Did he just call you what I think he called you?'

Ballan: 'Kill 'im'

BabaGirl: 'wait I want his number! Hook me up!'

Ballan: 'kill 'im'

GNation: 'GAZ DID HE JUST CALL YOOU WHT I THINK HE CALLED YOU?!'

Ballan: 'THAT'S WHY I'M SAYING KILL 'IM'

Gaz's eyes lingered on the last message. As usual only one of them had their priorities in order.

Gazian: 'I'll just punch him'

GNation: 'That's surprisingly docile for you'

Gazian: 'I never said it'd just be once'

Gaz heard Dib through her door, followed by Zim's indignant whining. She logged off her computer, already accepting that she wouldn't be winning against that level, anyway. She had… feelings about Zim knowing her full name. She hated people calling her by it. She disliked people teasing her about it. And Zim's tone had just oozed smug overconfidence at having successfully thrown her off like he had. Oh, he had planned that. That deserved appropriate payback. She would have to think of a proper way to achieve that another day.

Gaz opened her door, narrowing an eye at Zim, who still held his face in his hands. He glowered back at her. He raised an eyebrow at her and smirked.

"Your face is red—OW!" Zim held his shin, swearing a storm that Gaz couldn't understand. She flicked her eyes to Dib who looked away, suddenly looking very uncomfortable.

"What is he saying?" Gaz asks, pointing accusingly at Zim. Zim whirled around at her, seething.

"Why are you so violent with everything?!" he shouts. Gaz snapped next to ear twice before looking at him.

"You both are so dense, it just works better," she says with a shrug.

Zim fumed, struggling not to shout something else at her. Gaz cocked an eyebrow at him. He pointed at her, pointed somewhat to the ceiling in the way Dib always did, and then turned on his heel with an aggravated groan. Dib eyed them both and cleared his throat. Gaz whirled her attention onto him. She pointed to him next, just as accusatory as she had with Zim.

"YOU."

Dib squeaked, jumping back.

"Are you why he knows my name?" she asks.

"No! He saw it on your report card. You left it in the kitchen!" Dib says quickly. Zim chuckled from her other side.

"Does it annoy you?" Zim asks. Gaz leveled her gaze to him. "Because your cheeks are still pink—WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!"

Zim dashed past Dib and down the stairs, his PAK carrying him well out of Gaz's range as she tried to roundhouse kick him. He wasn't sure if she had been aiming for his body or his head and he wasn't risking it. Gaz groaned, slamming her door shut. Dib followed her down the stairs. He looked around the living room, spotting Zim in the ceiling corner, up high enough that Gaz couldn't reach him even with the broom if she tried. If she'd gotten the ladder he could move out of her reach before she could even set it up. Dib made a disgusted little noise at how much Zim really looked like a spider. The PAK's legs were all it took, and the imagery was never something Dib could get used to. Zim pointed down at them.

"Keep your filthy hands away from me!" Zim screeched. Gaz ran up under him, looking ready to start throwing something at him.

"Keep your mouth shut about my name!" she shouted back at him. "And get down! You're acting like a child!"

"Never."

Dib snorted, averting his gaze immediately from the two glares shot his way. He rubbed absently at his neck and disappeared into the kitchen. He felt the atmosphere behind him break a little and heard a thump as Zim dropped to the ground. He peered around the wall to see Gaz pointed ignoring looking at either him or Zim's directions. Zim himself looked bashful of all things. He stepped back into the room.

"Okay, now I know you're both acting weird," he says. Gaz jerked her head in his direction and Zim flinched. He kicked at the carpet.

"You're delusional," Zim says. Gaz pinched her brow.

"I just saw it!" Dib exclaims. "What the hell is going on between the two of you?"

Gaz stared at the TV. Zim stared at the adjacent wall. Dib was losing his patience for them both. He started for the stairs.

"Ok, fine, I can just look at my room's security feed—"

"No!" Both of them screamed.

Zim almost tackled Dib to the ground. Dib dodged, side stepping away from the stairs. Zim slammed full force into the wall and groaned. Gaz came up beside Dib, taking his sleeve and pulling him towards the kitchen.

"Just eat something instead," she says. Dib wrenched his arm free.

"No. You're both acting like—like- I don't know, but I don't like it." Dib says. Gaz sighed.

"Why haven't you checked it yet?" she asks. Dib shrugged.

"Gee, might be because the two of you have been conspiring to keep me as occupied as possible since I woke up," Dib sneers. Zim slumped against the wall.

"I didn't think you'd caught on to that," he confessed.

"You both have hardly left me alone for more than thirty minutes, how could I not notice?" Dib asks incredulously. "I didn't want to pry; but sheesh. You're hiding something. What is it?"

Gaz stared him down. She bit her lip and Dib felt his heart rate pick up. She had done that particular nervous tick only a handful of times in their lives. Never for good reasons. He flicked his gaze to Zim, who was toying with his hands. Dib picked up the Rubix cube off the coffee table and tossed it to him. Zim didn't even really register he'd caught it before he started to solve it.

"You guys are worrying me," Dib says. Gaz sighed heavily, dragging her hands down her face. A knock came at the door. Gaz immediately turned on her heel. Dib gaped after her. "Hey, no! That's not fair!"

Gaz opened the door, pausing in the doorway. She slammed it shut once Dib started to hear a voice. He stared at her as she walked away. "Hell no."

"Hell no?"

"That's right. We're not answering that door," Gaz says. The doorbell started going off, joined by the occasional knock. Zim held his wig down with a grumble.

"Ugh, can you not shut off that infernal noise?" he asks.

"It's wired into the house," Gaz says. She tilted her head at him, eyeing his wig. "Is it hurting your… "ears"?"

Dib and Zim looked at her quizzically, Dib raising a brow. She gave him a knowing look. She wasn't risking any prying ears, which meant she didn't trust who was at the door, which meant it was someone in a suit. Dib pushed past her, opening the door. His face went pale and he forced himself to grip the handle a little tighter.

"Dib Membrane."

"Agent Rutherford. Agent Marx. It's… good to see you?" Dib offers.

Zim narrowed his eyes at the two men. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. He had a few ways of dealing with them if they tried something. He would have to wait until Dib was out of range, though. He leaned backward, enough to catch sight of both of the agents around Dib.

"What the hell are you doing?" Gaz whispered.

Dib could feel Zim's murderous glare from across the room. He put on a strained smile. "What can I do for you?"

"We just had some questions." Rutherford says. Dib nodded, humming.

"I see. About what?" he asks. Marx glanced at Rutherford and motioned inside.

"Can we…?"

"Oh, sorry. Dad says I'm not allowed to let anyone inside unless he's here," Dib says. "So, no. Sorry."

"Ah. When did that happen?" Marx asks.

"About a week or so ago."

"Around the same time, then. Dib, did you hear what happened across your neighborhood? About the raid?" Rutherford asks. Dib pursed his lip.

"Mm…. no. What raid?"

Rutherford nodded. He looked around and bounced on his heel once, then twice. Dib felt a sense of unease bubble up just before he looked back at him. All pretense was gone from his face.

"Forget that. What do you know about the green house that was on Cheery Street? The one in the cul-de-sac, sat right between two buildings."

Dib kept his strained smile plastered on his face. The knuckles on the door turned white. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

Marx shoved Rutherford aside, looking entirely done. "All the neighbors say it was never there. Our men are saying it was just an empty house—and now it's gone. What do you know about it?"

Dib tensed his arm under his sleeve to slam the door if he needed to. He heard Gaz make her way upstairs. The door she opened was further than either of their rooms—the security room. He noticed the lights on the fence rods flicker on. The electricity wasn't zapping between the poles. Yet. He could sense Zim get closer to him from behind. Marx locked eyes with Zim and cocked an eyebrow. Dib shook his head, gaining both their attentions.

"Sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about, either," he says. He sees Rutherford's shoulders slack in disappointment. Marx's eyes narrow. Zim leaned on the door.

"There's never been a house like that on that entire block," Zim says easily. "Isn't it all apartments there?"

"Not entirely," Rutherford says slowly. "Who are you?"

"This is Zim, he's my classmate and my friend," Dib says, throwing his arm around Zim's shoulders. "Zim, this is Rutherford and Marx. The recruits I told you about."

"Hello."

"Hi…" Rutherford says. Marx looked Zim up and down one last time.

"…Hello."

"Anyway. I'm sorry I couldn't be more help, gentlemen." Dib says. He let Zim go, gently guiding him behind the door. Zim took the opportunity to freely glare in the agents' general directions. Marx stuck his foot out, stopping the door from closing before it had even begun.

"Hold it. One last question. Do you know anyone named Brandon? He recommended you for the internship." Marx says. Dib nodded once. He saw Zim tense behind the door. A PAK leg slowly emerged from behind Zim, some sort of gun at the tip pointed to the door right in the direction of Rutherford and Marx.

"We were in the same club." Dib says. "But we weren't close."

"Ah. He's missing, you see. Last time he was seen was in the office," Marx says. Dib knew he wanted to say 'before the raid'. Dib just smiled at them and shrugged.

"Sorry. All I know is that he found my address somehow and my Dad kicked him out when I mentioned I'd never given it to him. I stopped going to the club a while ago. If you ask me," Dib says, dropping his voice a little. "He was a little weird."

Rutherford placed a hand on Marx's shoulder and nodded. "We understand. We're sorry for bothering you. We have to get back to the office now. Thank you for your time."

Dib watched them until they hit the sidewalk and shut the door. He turned to Zim, who put the PAK's leg away. He looked almost embarrassed for having it trained on the door for so long. Dib crossed his arms, looking at him pointedly.

"Well?" he asks. Zim looked at him with confusion, bold enough to pretend that he didn't know what Dib was asking. Dib sighed, slapping his hand on his forehead. Gaz came down the stairs, taking in the room quickly.

"They leave?" she asks.

"Oh, yeah, after they asked about Zim's base disappearing and Brandon going missing with it." Dib says. He turned on Zim, poking him in the chest. Zim bent away at the sharp jab. "What the hell was that?"

"I erased the memories of those present, I cannot do anything about their superiors," Zim says, waving it off. "It's handled, either way. The base is gone. They have nothing."

"They have suspicions. And so do I!" Dib says. He throws his hands in the air. "What the hell happened that night?! You got weirdly fidgety when he brought up the base, but you got really angry when he brought up Brandon. I could feel the murderous intent from behind the door."

"That human is not your concern. As I said, he is dealt with," Zim says. Dib looked his features over. Zim wasn't going to budge on the matter, and Dib had a sinking suspicion as to why. He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing at his face. He paced the living room, picking up the remote and tossing it back and forth.

"You can't keep a secret from me for long," Dib declares. "I'd rather you just said it."

Zim clenched his fist around the Rubix cube in his sweatshirt pocket. He looked guiltily down at the floor. He couldn't look Dib in the eyes and think about the answer he wanted at the same time. Zim's eyes flicked to the scar on Dib's neck and then to Gaz. She was looking at him and looked just as lost in what to do as he felt.

He could still see the red on the floor and his uniform. He hadn't washed it, yet, and didn't want to. He didn't want to touch it. He wasn't entirely sure as to why. He had gotten Dib's blood on his uniform before plenty of times in fights. They'd drawn each other's blood on a regular occasion—Dib had even complained more than once about how hard it was to clean out of his clothes. Zim hadn't even thought twice about it before. He was used to seeing blood. It came with the job. It came with being an Irken. Something had changed—and Zim didn't entirely like the effect that took with seeing that familiar shade of red.

He kicked at the floor, flashes of Brandon and a raised rock flitting through his mind. He could still see Dib unconscious on the table with a tube and needle in his neck. He could hear the heart monitor flat lining and the brain waves growing steadily darker until the right voltage had kickstarted it all back to life. He still felt the hatred for the body he'd left in the hall after his panic had subsided. Gir hadn't been much help during that panic—having taken to screaming around the room instead of guarding the intruders. Zim wasn't sure he could trust the robot with such hefty tasks in the future. He'd had to knock the guards unconscious more than once while he was focused on Dib's condition.

He looked at Gaz, snapping briefly back to the present. She was saying something to Dib, having gotten him to sit on the couch. Zim shivered, thinking back again. He didn't have a way to carry Dib through his bedroom window when he'd finally made it out of his base. It had gotten dark by then. He had to alter memories and move the cars and then men. It had taken hours—hours of worrying whether Dib was going to be alive when he got back to the base for his next trip. And Gaz, having always been something of a hermit, had been home when Zim busted their door down. He admitted he could forget his own strength some of the time.

She had been less than pleased by the door. She had been… Zim wasn't sure how to describe it. Enraged didn't quite cover it. Worry and panic were both emotions that had joined in the rage. Zim could empathize with it—he never thought he'd be able to say he could empathize with anyone. He'd set Dib in his bed and Gaz had been on him like a hound.

Zim dropped Dib on the bed, leveling his head out. His PAK lowered him to the ground. He couldn't get past Gaz until he had used his extra legs to trapeze up the stairs past her reach. She had chased after him, getting stuck in the doorway when he ducked inside.

"Who the hell did that to him?!" she screamed. She pulled the blanket over him and took his glasses off, setting them on the side table. She was remarkable gentle handling them. A gentleness she did not extend when she grabbed Zim by his collar and shook him. "WHO DID THAT TO HIM AND ARE THEY STILL BREATHING?!"

"Let me go, you wretched beast!" Zim screamed. She was shaking his brain in his skull and it did not feel good. He shoved her off, a PAK leg extending on reflex. Gaz stopped short of punching him in favor of eyeing the PAK's leg. Zim glanced at it and retracted it. If nothing else, it had at least served to make her pause long enough to listen. "I already handled the one who did that to Dib. And no, they're not breathing."

Gaz felt a small sense of pride at Zim's evil grin with his last statement. "Good. What did happen to him? Is he going to be alright here and not at a hospital?

"He was bludgeoned in the head," Zim said. He waved his arms at Gaz's panicking eyes. "HE IS FINE! My lab is far superior to those wretched hospitals. I fixed him already, he's just resting."

"You fixed him…" Gaz said slowly. Zim nodded. She eyed up his clothes and he looked down at the splashes of red.

"Ah… this… this is not his…" Zim said sheepishly. Gaz sighed, collapsing into Dib's computer chair. She rubbed at her eyes.

"Strip down and wait in the bathroom. I'll scrounge up something from the laundry," Gaz sighed.

She pushed herself back up and marched from the room. Zim grabbed at his shirt, inspecting it. He wondered, idly, how she had managed to tell the difference in tones. He threw the top off, pulling the gloves off to replace once it was crumpled in his lap. Zim paused, looking nervously over to Dib. He bit his lip, unsure if he should leave. The PAK's medicine wasn't incompatible to humans—he was grateful for that—but, he didn't want to leave. Gaz returned moments later, a large hoodie in hand with a pair of sweats and stopped at the bathroom door. She looked behind her to where Zim was still sitting on the floor and threw the clothes in the bathroom.

"I'll watch him," she offers. Zim's antennae perked up and he turned to her, looking a little surprised. Gaz averted her gaze, pouting. "You brought him here and fixed him up. I'll watch him so you don't stink up the house with your nasty murder clothes."

"…That's one way to put it," Zim mumbles. He slipped past her and Gaz grabbed the top from his hands. She just stared him down when he turned to grab it back, holding out her other hand expectantly. Zim blinked at her.

"Pants, too, moron. You got blood everywhere." Gaz ordered. She motioned to the staircase. "It's even on the walls."

Zim looked down the hallway. True to her word, blood was swiped on a few places on the wall and on the railing. He grimaced. He'd have to clean that up, he suspected. He backed up into the bathroom, shutting the door. Gaz waited, staring down the hall. The door opened and she caught the pants that were flung her way without looking. She counted Zim lucky he'd left them inside out—if she'd gotten blood splatter in her hair, she really would have killed him.

Zim exited the bathroom moments later with Gaz waiting by Dib's door just as she'd promised. She caught sight of him and left down the stairs. Zim pulled the computer chair up to Dib's bed. He'd turned over at some point, facing the wall. That was a good sign; but it also meant that Zim could see the still scabbing neck wound. Dib's head wound was still fresh, though it had stopped bleeding. Zim had hastily thrown bandages on it just to hide the damage. It looked worse than it was—he was certain of that—but convincing Gaz of that fact would have been too much of a headache. He thanked his past self for the forethought.

Gaz reemerged minutes later, a blanket in tow. She laid it over Zim's back and he perked his antennae at her. She kept her eyes trained on Dib.

"What happened to his neck?" she asks.

"I said I fixed him, yes? That was part of it. It'll heal." Zim assures her. Gaz gave Dib a once over. She looked down at Zim, who was making an effort not to look at her.

"Zim," she begins, setting a hand on his back. It was soft—a stark contrast to her usual demeanor and it threw Zim off balance—and she even gave his back a few strokes. "Thank you."

Zim shot up, gaping at her. Gaz glared at him, ignoring his childish reaction. She gripped his shoulder as a warning. "I could just snap your wrist if that's better—"

"Your thanks is appreciated and you are welcome," Zim says hastily. Gaz patted him on the back.

"Good alien." She says. Zim bristled, sneering at her. She disappeared for a second, returning with her own chair and her Game Slave. "How long is he going to be out?"

"…I'm not sure."

"Buckle in, space bug," Gaz says, booting up her game. "We're taking shifts until he does."

Zim blinked, returning to the house as it was. Gaz had left the room at some point. Dib was waving his hand in front of Zim's face.

"Hello?" Dib asks. "Are you blue screening?"

"Am I what?" Zim asks.

"Oh, good you're not glitching out," Dib laughs. Zim cocked his head at him. "It's… it's an expression, forget it. You okay? I'm sorry if my ranting upset you, I just… I'm in the dark here."

"You're… you are right to be annoyed," Zim says. Dib blinked at him.

"Oh." He looked up the stairs, where Gaz must have gone, and rubbed the back of his neck again. "Gaz, um… well, she said she was worried for me, which was weird to hear. But she didn't go into too much detail. Are you okay?"

Zim stared at him, looking over his features. The scar on his forehead was still present, alongside the one on his neck. Zim couldn't recall the last time he had regretting giving Dib a scar; but he certainly wasn't proud of the two he could see. He bit his lip again.

"Okay, stop that, you're going to start bleeding before you know it," Dib says, squishing Zim's cheeks. Zim jerked away, unsuccessfully, his face flushing. Dib snickered, continuing his assault. Zim finally swatted his hands away.

"I'm not asking again," Dib says. Zim took a step forward. He wrapped his arms around Dib's waist, pulling him closer. "Um…"

Zim held him tighter. Dib was red in the face and felt like his coat was pretty unnecessary in the house. He looked around uncertainly until Zim sighed against his shoulder. Zim nuzzled his and Dib simply stood there.

"Zim?" Dib asks. Zim turned his face away.

"You… flatlined… for a few moments. At the base." Zim says.

Dib had to take a moment to process that. He hardly noticed when Zim dragged him to the couch and sat him down. He was still trying to wrap his head around the concept that he had, in all technicality, died for a moment. Several moments, according to Zim. It boggled his mind that he couldn't remember it. Dib knew that logically, of course he wouldn't have, and yet he expected to. He felt warmth from a blanket being thrown over him. He felt weight next to him as Zim crawled under the blanket next to him.

Dib finally pulled himself back mentally and glanced over at Zim. He was taking out his contacts. The pupils went from violet to red; making him look like a vampire instead of a human. Dib snorted. Zim looked at him, the red eyes matching his human look far more than they really should. Dib shook his head, hiding his smile and trying not to laugh. Zim raised an eyebrow at him.

"You look." He snickered. "You look like a vampire."

"…What?"

"Your eyes. They're still white because of the hologram, but they're red now," Dib says. He readjusted the blanket. Zim gawked at him.

"THAT is what you're focused on?" he asks. Zim buried himself deeper into the couch and into Dib's own side to steal his warmth.

"I'll have a proper break down later. Right now, this is great," Dib says. He looked over at Zim again. Zim was visibly trying not to bite his lip. Dib draped his arm over Zim's shoulders. "I'm not mad, you know. I'm right here."

Zim was silent. He nodded slowly. Dib caught him glance at the mark on his neck. Dib sighed, ruffling Zim's wig. Zim whined, pathetically swatting at Dib's hand. It only served to have Dib ruffle it up more with a laugh. He wanted to touch the scar on his neck and head but he refrained from doing so.

"I'm fine," he says. "And you're fine."

Zim pouted, drawing his legs up so that his entire body was under the blanket. He fought back a purr, only succeeding so far that the purr he could feel was mostly silent. Dib didn't seem to notice it. He flipped on the TV. Gaz came up in his peripheral. She fell down on his opposite side, sandwiching him in.