Ok finally. Sheesh! This chapter came out shorter than I honestly thought it would be. I edited it a lot; but I think I'm happy with it!

Enjoy!

Part 56: SOULS Pt. 4

"You're Dib's foreign friend."

Zim wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but that wasn't it.

Zim could only nod. His brain was running through options of what he could do. He certainly wasn't going to kill the man if he could help it. He could wipe his mind if he could catch him. Zim wasn't entirely sure Dib's father hadn't made himself a cyborg at some point. It just seemed like something he'd do. Zim didn't know him very well. He just knew the Professor had a religious belief in science and adamantly rejected anything paranormal past humoring Dib occasionally.

Normally Zim would have attacked him already. He'd have screeched and clawed out at him, sure that he could take any human on. Really, he'd have attacked Professor Membrane much like how he would have attacked a trespassing Dib early on—with much more of a homicidal lean. His fingers twitched with anticipation for an attack.

"…Dib never told me you were an inventor," Professor Membrane says. Zim blinked at him.

Perfect.

"I dabble."

"A little more than dabble, with that attachment of yours," Professor Membrane says. He gestured to Zim's back. Zim turned, still holding the box, to block his PAK from view. It was still disguised along with the rest of him; but the mention of it left a sense of unease in him.

"Or, your parents invented it?" Membrane probed.

"Um…"

"I don't recall ever seeing any patent requests for anything like that. It's not on the market, either." Professor Membrane says, stepping forward. Zim sidestepped back to the stairs. Membrane halted. Zim hesitated, debating if dashing up the stairs would be more suspicious or not. He'd already risked it when he sidestepped away. He cursed himself for letting himself move at all.

"Uh—I—" Zim didn't want to drop the box to run—he needed it—but he also felt like he was on thin ice with this situation. If it had been ANYONE else, he could have just skewered them and been done with it. Morals made everything so much harder. The horrible thought that he had taken a look in the boxes suddenly struck Zim and felt his squiggly-spooch drop. Professor Membrane raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he begins. Zim fought back a bark of a laugh. "I understand you have many allergies… you must be sick quite often… is that what the attachment to your back is for? Did you parents invent it for you?"

Zim's lip twitched and he scoffed. Membrane raised the other eyebrow quizzically. Zim set the box down. He didn't want to fight with Membrane—he didn't want to have to explain THAT to either of the siblings upstairs. That aside, he also didn't like him very well. As brilliant as Membrane was, even by Irken standards, he was a pale comparison to Dib or Gaz. Zim really had to find a way to get the two to utilize their talents. But that could wait. He was having trouble holding back on Professor Membrane, if just to get away from the entire situation and pretend it didn't happen. He could have—had he a base.

"I have no parents." Zim says. It wasn't entirely a lie. The statement got Membrane's attention. "Yes, I made it. No, you cannot examine it. NO, you cannot touch it."

The spite in Zim's tone caught Membrane off guard. Zim could see the tension rise in his shoulders and Membrane braced his arms on his sides.

"You sound very certain of that." He says. Zim clenched his fists.

"I dare you."

Membrane stared him down. He was… markedly taller than Zim. If it came down to it, the PAK's legs would aid him in surpassing that disadvantage. Zim wanted to bash his skull into the wall for his loud mouth. Great Irk, he couldn't afford this right now, and he KNEW THAT. Yet, the words still left his mouth before he had time to stop them. Finally, after a few tense moments, Membrane laughed.

"I see why my son and daughter enjoy your company so much!" he declares. He grabbed the tools from his table and Zim shuffled far from his reach as he moved to the stairs. Membrane paused at the base and turned around. "You don't have parents?"

"…Yes."

"And you invent?"

"Yes.." Zim eyed him warily. Membrane sounded… excited. Zim thought he could see the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. The jacket collar covered most of the man's features. It made discerning his intentions aggravatingly hard.

"Excellent! Perhaps you can help cure my son of his temporary insanity! Channel his skill into a product of science," Membrane says. Zim wanted to hit him.

He refrained, by some miracle, holding his fists to his sides even as they had a slight tremor to them. Membrane disappeared up the stairs and Zim sighed in relief. He wasn't about to go after him if he still thought the PAK was an invention. It made it easier if he just fooled himself. Zim bit his lip. An attempted replication by him may be a problem, however. Zim glanced nervously at the box of shrunken materials. He pulled it close and started to empty it.

He laid the items out on the table. Shrunken spikes, gears, hydraulics, and tubing. As well as the shell casings. He sighed, straining his antennae to hear Membrane leaving in his car. Where he was going at almost midnight Zim could guess was his lab—so long as he wasn't here, Zim didn't care what happened to the man. He wasn't even sure if Membrane knew Zim was staying at his own house.

Zim hummed, unshrinking all the pieces. He had to assemble them all soon. He'd already started on one—and was almost done. Learning how to build the thing from scratch was proving more difficult than he'd initially thought it would be. Blue prints weren't exactly plentiful—despite the importance. Maintenance instructions and his own knowledge would have to do for now. He could modify it later.

Zim stood warily at the door to the stairs. Dib held up a note and looked like he was waiting for an explanation. The note itself had been pinned to the door and Dib had torn it off. Gaz was idly playing her Game Slave in the living room, glancing towards them every few seconds as Zim stood there. He was stuck trying to figure out how to react.

'Dib, your foreign friend is quite adept at inventing! You two should join me in the lab!'

Membrane (Dad)

Zim blinked at it. He looked it over, both disdainfully and dumbstruck, and gave a confused chuff. Dib cocked an eyebrow at the noise but ultimately ignored it. He flapped the note in Zim's face. Zim hissed, batting it away. It caught on his claws and tore. He drew his hand back, tearing it up aggravatingly. Damn that man.

"What are you making that got Dad so interested he'd offer you a position in the lab?" Dib asks.

"He offered you the same."

"He always does," Gaz drones. She flicked her gaze to him fully, pausing her game. Zim felt unease every time she did. He wasn't ready to show them, yet. He hadn't finished! "So?"

"He was here when we got back last night," Zim says. He waved down the stairs. "He was in the lab."

"…Zim, answer the question." Dib demands. "What are you making that he got so interested in?"

Zim groaned, kicking at the floor a little and wringing his shirt. He started to pout, thinking over if he should move aside to let Dib down. Nothing was stopping Dib from just lunging for the doorway—he'd done it in the past when Zim had blocked his path—except for the knowledge that Zim would probably just hoist him up off the ground. Zim looked back behind him to the basement and slouched against the wall. He looked at Dib, firstly pitifully, then stubbornly.

"They're not done."

"Is that really going to be a prerequisite for if I can see what it is, or not?" Dib asks incredulously. He points accusingly at Gaz. "She already saw what it is!"

"I couldn't tell what it was, numbskull." Gaz shoots back. Dib pouted.

"You've still seen more than me!" he claims. Zim had to, regrettably, admit that he wasn't wrong.

Zim let the two have it out in their debate of how relevant that was. He was far more concerned about trying to avoid the entire ordeal. He wasn't prepared to show them primarily because he wasn't prepared for their possible reactions. He wasn't allowed, all things considered, to even be doing what he was. He didn't have a human equivalent for the crime—if Dib or Gaz would even call it that—and the punishment that would follow. "Death penalty" only covered so much ground. The instinctual pit in his gut at the thought of finishing the work was almost enough to make him quit. Almost. It never succeeded. He blamed his long time to finish the projects on the anxiety and fear embedded into his own PAK.

He decided biting the preverbal bullet was the only way he'd ever get this done and grabbed Dib's hand. Dib flushed, stopping mid-sentence to be pulled along by Zim as he grabbed Gaz's hand next. She made to kick at him almost immediately. She was very clear—and physical—when it came to when she did or did not want touched. Normally Zim would be happy to accommodate that, but it seemed unfair to only show Dib. He sidestepped her leg sweep with ease, smirking at the annoyance on her face at her missed hit, and pulled them both along. When they hit the bottom of the stairs, the lab was still dark.

"Cover your eyes. I'll set it out." Zim says. Dib did so with no delay, excitement brimming under his skin. Gaz raised a brow at Zim. "I'm not touching the box until you do, Gaz."

"Fine."

Gaz didn't lift her hands, instead turning around. She was still complying to not looking, but the shot of slight defiance was still obvious. Zim let it slide. If she were an Irken she'd be deactivated by this age. He doubted any training or punishment would have improved her rebellious personality—and the Empire would have probably lost a few officers in their attempts. He took the box out, laying everything out. He unshrunk all of it, setting it up in a way that might make sense to the siblings. He pulled out the one he'd finished the previous night and clutched it uncertainly.

His PAK shot a let out, flipping on the lights. "Alright, look."

Zim held the PAK up, his face a contorted mix of nerves and excitement. He looked like he was under scrutiny before Dib had even taken the PAK in his hands. Dib reached for it, taking it gingerly. He turned it over, examining it. It looked nearly identical to Zim's, save for the blue dots on it. It was smaller, as well. Zim's PAK took up a good portion of his back, whereas this one would take up only about two-thirds of the equivalent space on Dib's.

"Is this… a new PAK you made yourself?" he asks.

Gaz stared at it, mesmerized and confused. If nothing else, she seemed to have a better understanding of how important a PAK truly was to an Irken, and her expression slowly shifting to one of dawning realization had Zim buzzing to bolt. Zim grimaced, clearing his throat. Making himself a new one wasn't a bad idea, now that Dib voiced it. He could argue it was even practical. He started playing with his claws, his antennae twitching rapidly. Dib eyed him.

"You ok? You're usually not so… fidget-y. Or quiet," Dib says.

Zim paused his breathing, taking a moment to compose himself before gently taking the PAK from Dib's hands. His hands were shaking, just slightly, until the weight settled them out. Dib relented for a second before letting it go. Zim started speaking hurriedly, rolling the PAK over in his hands like something precious and breakable. Dib started looking over the work bench at all the new tools he hadn't seen before, alongside enough material to make several more. He was completely lost on whatever Zim was saying about the alien technology—and he would regret that he couldn't seem to listen later, he knew—and interrupted him as he stared at the bench.

"Is it yours?" Dib asks again.

"No…"

"Then, what's it used for? Is it done?" Dib asks, scrutinizing what he could guess was a drill of some sort. He picked it up to turn over in his hand. Gaz seemed to snap herself out of her daze and walked up to Zim and the new PAK. She ran her hands over it softly as Zim held it.

"Well, no. I mean, we aren't putting them on your backs just yet—"

"…yet?" Dib asked. He whipped his head back to Zim. "WAIT, WHAT."

"—there are a lot of revisions that need done! I need to make adjustments for sizing, and it's different for each species—"

"YET?" Dib repeats. Gaz ignored them both, taking the PAK to hold. Zim let her have it, finding more interest in wringing holes in his shirt instead.

"—I have to configure it to human DNA first, and then make sure it won't be painful. Get all the additions lined up, and design a brainstem and spinal link—U-uh. Um. …"

Dib leveled his stare at Zim, who had already turned his back on him. Zim's face had grown considerably darker in color. Dib couldn't pinpoint when he'd seen Zim so flustered before; and he suspected for good reason. Gaz seemed entranced at turning the PAK over and over in her hands. She had never gotten the opportunity to examine one up close. Dib really hasn't either—not in the same way. Seeing Zim's detached from his body for the small time-table he had to do whatever he needed had always caused the anxiety to overpower his curiosity. Dib crossed his arms. He wasn't impressed that Gaz seemed completely unperturbed at Zim's statements. But he wasn't about to be ignored, either.

"Zim."

Zim's antennae stopped moving, slowing down and pausing, before dropping to the sides. He turned to Dib, looking at the PAK in Gaz's hands ashamedly, and seeming very much like a kicked dog. His claws clenched at his sides. Dib caught a quiver in Zim's lip and dropped his 'angry father' façade. No, no, no, he had not signed up for tears. Especially not tears from Zim. He was not going to be the cause of that. He already felt like he'd been punched in the gut just looking at the alien. He hadn't seen Zim shed a tear yet—unless it was out of pain and even then he'd been wondering for ages if Irkens could even cry—and he was not going to start being the reason that Zim would. Dib took the PAK gingerly in his hands and set it on the table. Gaz gave him an unhappy look but relented. She was distracted (to put it mildly) by the PAK; but she could still read the room.

"Was this why you were asking me about immortality the other month? Because you were making these?" Dib asks softly. Zim wouldn't look at him, but the quivering lip had stopped.

"I hadn't… started it yet…" Zim offered weakly.

Dib grimaced. He pulled Zim into a hug. He was quick enough that Zim didn't quite register it was happening in time to fight him off before Dib's arms were around his shoulders. Zim's body did tense, a reflex Dib still had to fight off himself; before his body relaxed again. Zim didn't move. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to hug back or not. He just knew he didn't want Dib to stop. He felt happy—a weird concept for him to have adjusted to when it didn't involve testing new weapons.

Despite how fragile humans were Zim had already accepted that he also felt safe when he was around Dib. He didn't want to lose that. He despised the notion. Even with Gaz, and all her terror, he felt much the same way.

Zim's shoulders started to shake. He shook his head, hands turning to fists at his sides. He felt the urge to wring his claws in his shirt but refrained. Dib had bought this for him, and he wouldn't risk tearing it up even more. Gaz pulled at the back of his shirt. Zim didn't want to look at her, either. If he did, he felt like he'd break down just as hard as if he managed to somehow get a glimpse of Dib's face. She pressed against his PAK, her arms coming around his midsection to envelope both of them.

Zim wasn't sure what to make of it. He wasn't used to hugging—or any contact, really—and laying out in the grass the day before he really wanted to chalk up to delirium from the perfect warmth of the sun while he had been under the tree. Irkens didn't touch. It was frowned upon. Humans, it seemed, were the exact opposite. Even someone as closed off as Gaz had been more open to touching than most Irkens. To top it off, they just didn't understand.

Zim refused to believe they could. He was shaking and he was terrified—this was high treason. He could be deactivated for this. Dib felt his shoulder get wet and he squeezed tighter.

"Zim, you don't have to cry," Dib says. Zim mumbled that sounded like a denial he was. Dib wanted to sigh at the blatant stubbornness but now was not the time. Gaz rested her chin on Zim's other shoulder.

"That's not why he's crying, dumbass. Think about it for a second," she says. Zim shook his head in Dib's shoulder. Figured that the boy—smart as he was—failed to apply that basic attempt at logic to the situation. Sometimes Dib's concern for what was sat right in front of him was misguided. Zim wasn't sure there was any other way to explain it.

"Oh." Dib sounded meek. Zim almost laughed at it.

The entire situation, for himself at least, was something he'd never even considered. He let himself lean on Dib, feeling the contact and feeling better each passing second. Gaz let him go to move to the bench. She picked up a different piece of equipment and turned it over. She held it up for both to see.

"What is this?" she asks. Zim eyed the choker necklace up and down and grimaced.

"A possible failure." He says. He glances away. "For now. I haven't… I haven't figured it out, yet."

"Ok, but what is it?"

"It's for when the PAK will be too conspicuous," Zim says hurriedly. Gaz cocked an eyebrow at him.

"What, a hologram to hide them wasn't enough?" she asks. Zim groaned, pushing Dib away to take the choker from her hands.

"No, not for some places." He says bitterly. "Irkens are not welcome in some quadrants of space. Scanners pick up the latent signal of a PAK to bar entry and alert security. The signal from these prototypes would be too weak to be detected."

"So, you're making… temporary ones?" Dib asks. He picked up another that looked like it could be either a necklace or a bracelet. Zim snatched it, too, throwing both into the box.

"They're not even PAKs! They'd be for defense and communication. The scanners are solely to weed out Irkens." Zim says. He wiped any residual tears from his face in a fury. He hated crying. He always had. It showed too much weakness. It was a surefire way to be harassed at the Academy and among other fellow Irkens, even when they're grown.

"Would these be stuck to us forever?" Gaz asks, running her hand over the PAK.

"No. I'm making them. They'll be removable. I can ensure you two can have that luxury, at least." Zim says. He caught Dib's curious expression before he could speak. Zim held his hand up. "I do not have that luxury. My body isn't suited for it."

"But, couldn't you make a new one that could do that for you?" Dib asks solemnly. Zim grimaced. He really didn't want to burst Dib's bubble of enjoyment; but some things were unavoidable.

"No, Dib, I don't think that I can. PAKs are more complicated than that. My internal connectors are not modified for such a feat. Nor do I think that they can be." Zim confesses. He started to return his tools to the box.

"Are you even allowed to do this?" Dib asks. Zim sighed, shoveling the materials back into the box.

"No. But they won't find out about it." Zim says. He sounded less sure of himself than he wanted. Gaz leaned on the bench.

"You're taking a big risk with this," she says. Zim didn't even bother to nod. The answer was obvious enough. Gaz hummed. "Will other aliens think we're Irkens?"

"No. …It's… Irkens have gifted PAKs before, it's just—The Control Brains and Tallest have to do it." Zim explains. He toyed with the drill Dib had been scrutinizing earlier. "For loyalists, mostly. It's been a long time since one has been given to anyone outside the Empire."

"This has been done before?" Gaz asks. Zim shook his head readily.

"NO! The Control Brains do it. Irkens like myself are forbidden of even making a spare PAK let alone creating one to gift out to another!" Zim says. He ran his hands over his antennae with a groan. "I'll be deactivated for this…"

"Well, hold on, won't they just assume that we were gifted them?" Dib asks hopefully. Zim gave him a side-eye—or, Dib thinks he does when Zim drags his hands down his face and tilts his head slightly in his direction. "I mean… c'mon, that can't be that far-fetched."

"It is a risk I was already willing to take once the thought persisted in my mind," Zim moans. "Your PAKs will be much better, however. I am making sure of that."

"Showing up your entire race? I can get behind that," Gaz says proudly. "Tell me, what would we have that they don't?"

"A brain scan back-up. In case anything happened. It'd be like rebooting your consciousness. Gifted PAKs usually lack this because they won't be included in The Collective. They have most of the other usual functions." Zim says thoughtfully. Zim pulled out a small box with a USB. He set it down in front of Dib. "This is yours."

"Wait, what?!" Dib picked it up, looking it over dumbfounded. "When did you even make this?"

"When you were passed out in my medic-bay," Zim says bitterly. Gaz flicked her eyes to him.

"That reminds me… what did you do to the guy who attacked Dib? Like, really?" Gaz asks. Dib looked at her nervously. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. "Don't say you 'took care of it', either. I want a real answer. Are they going to find a body under that plot?"

"Of course not. The parts are too small," Zim says. He stopped, stuck processing that he'd just said that as if it were natural to say. For Irkens it would be. Humans, however… he looked to Dib, who gaped at him horrifyingly. Gaz's expression remained unnaturally the same.

"WHAT?!" Dib screeched.

"Good." Gaz says. Dib whirled on her.

"WHAT!?"

"What? He tried to kill you," Gaz says. She crossed her arms as Dib started to chastise her about human lives. She waited until he'd taken a breath to kick him. It distracted him long enough for her to speak again. "I'm not sad to hear he's dead, Dib. I would have just done it myself if Zim hadn't."

"I'm more concerned about the fact that you dismembered him," Dib grumbles. He felt goosebumps race up his arms. "I'm gonna be sick."

"No, you're not," Gaz says. She flicked a stray screw at his head.

"Ow."

"You rather he'd have lived to try again later?" she asks. "He could have killed all of them, you know. I'd say that's some impressive restraint."

"I did not show 'restraint' when I found them in the hall," Zim confesses. "Not after Gir took Dib to the medic-bay, that is."

Gaz clears her throat when Dib didn't respond. He shook his head out, looking back at the table. Dib wanted to mess with something, but Zim had cleared most of the bench. Zim watched him and plucked a random piece of steel rod out of the box and handed it over. Dib took it immediately and started to pace the basement. Gaz sighed heavily.

"You would have found out eventually and you already suspected it! Stop being so dramatic!"

"Hearing the confirmation is different!"

Zim ignored them. He had known that he couldn't hide the fact from Dib forever. He wasn't naïve enough to believe he could have. He considered it a small price to pay to keep them there with him. He set the PAKs in the box gingerly. He knew he was being too careful with them. They were sturdy devices. He was far more concerned with matching the PAKs function to human biology. Accelerated healing and decelerated aging was not a new concept even to humans—but it was still an equally tricky one. Gaz bumped his shoulder to get his attention.

"Stop moping. He's not that mad at you," she says.

Zim stared at her a moment before looking to Dib for confirmation. Dib was staring at the floor, rubbing his face with his free hand exasperatingly. Zim was sure she was trying to help—oddly enough—but he was beginning to doubt that was the case. Dib slapped his own cheeks.

"Okay, I understand why you did it." He starts. Gaz glowered at him. "And I probably would have been just as pissed. I don't know that I would have killed him, but I probably would've been super pissed."

Zim pursed his lips. He knew Dib wasn't over the information. Not yet. The boy rarely let things go that easily from his brain. He started to speak again and Zim's antennae honed in on his voice instantly.

"And… I guess, thinking about it, I should expect that you did. I mean, you tried to kill me for years. I tried to kill you, too, but that's not really relevant right now. And, Brandon had destroyed the base pretty badly by then. And he did attack me. And bash my skull in. I don't think I'm over that yet—but that's not important. I mean, I could have asked you sooner, but actually I kind of did, but I didn't really wanna know, but I have to know, and I guess—"

Zim let him ramble. He liked hearing it now. It wasn't something that he would have expected to ever enjoy the sound of it. Gaz was pinching her brow, her irritation growing. She patted Zim on the shoulder.

"For the record, I'm down for functional immortality," she says. "A few years ago I'd think you were going to liquify our insides with something like this."

Zim gave an offended gasp. One that went completely ignored by Dib. Gaz simply smirked.

"Not now," she clarifies. "I don't think you'll have to convince him much, either."

"Hopefully," Zim mutters.

Gaz gave him a final pat started back up the stairs. Zim couldn't help but smile. He thought idly about inputting a GPS and defense weaponry into the PAKs. The two would need that. He could put the PAK's 'spider' legs into them as well. He was confident both siblings would love that. A communicator screen, flashlight, and a few other devices could probably be fit into it as well before he compromised the storage space. Zim's PAK picked up on something Dib was saying and he drew himself out of his thoughts.

"—urious why you suddenly wanted to build these. I mean, you said you'd get deactivated, didn't you? This is high treason? How come you'd—?"

"Dib."

Dib stopped, his hands running through his hair. He paused, looking at Zim curiously. Zim felt the anxiety starting to peak again and he shuffled on his heels. Feelings weren't something he was very adept at. Expressing them even less so. He had to say it fast or he was going to change his mind.

"I… almost lost you and I don't want that happening again."

Dib stared at him. He looked over the work bench, patting his hand at his side. His face was red. He linked his arm into the closest one of Zim's he could reach.

"Me neither."