We're finally looking at the PAKs again! This chapter took me a while. Some chapters are just harder to write for some reason until that inspiration smacks you upside the head, but I do hope you all still enjoy it! Just to refresh some new readers, I do have a tumblr centered mostly around Invader Zim where you can get updates on chapters and see some good 'ol fanart at:

Enjoy!

Part 64: Check-Up

Zim sighed, rubbing at his chest. The wound itself had healed; but he still remembered the pain. It wouldn't leave his memory, like the blasted gunshot. His shoulder started to throb at the thought and he grimaced. He'd busied himself with the college classes' homework and his own personal projects just to distract himself from the "phantom pains". A wholly odd phrase, but it fit the sensation well. The distractions had worked rather well until this morning. Currently, he was stuck not doing any homework (he'd finished it all) and growing anxious waiting for Dib to pick up Gaz and bring her to the house.

Perhaps opening up Dib's morning by kicking his bedroom door in and saying—"Go get Gaz, I have a surprise"—was, while extremely funny (given Dib fell out of bed when he kicked the door in), was not very informative. While Dib had gone, with little questioning and convincing, he'd made it clear that he wasn't letting Zim get out of any explanations for it when he got back. And it appeared that he was taking his sweet time just to mess with the Irken.

Zim had resigned, after just ten minutes, to wait in his 'room'. While he hadn't actually used it, preferring to rest in the labs or on the couch instead as he didn't sleep, he couldn't think of anywhere else to wait. He checked his phone, only to see that it was still devoid of messages. He had at least expected Gaz to message him asking what the hell Dib was doing coming to get her like some errand boy, but he also wasn't about to complain about the lack of nagging on her end. That did make him wonder how much of an earful he'd be in once they both got to the house, though.

"They're here," the Computer says. Zim jolted, finding himself rushing into the hall and skidding to a stop at the front door. He could hear Gaz and Dib talking and yanked it open.

Gaz looked up at him, milkshake in hand, and sucking the rest of it up the straw. She raised a single hand. "Yo."

Zim took one second to assess that they hadn't grabbed him one. "Traitors."

"Oh get over it, what did you want to show me that Dib had to come all the way to the house to get me for?" Gaz asked, shoving past him. "He woke me up."

Zim shot Dib a cautionary glance and Dib shrugged. "She didn't answer my texts."

"He almost got blasted."

"You are an idiot," Zim says, stealing the half-eaten milkshake from Dib's hands.

"Hey!"

Dib made a grab for it, but Zim kept him at bay, slurping down the rest of the shake. Dib gaped at him, going slack against the hand at his chest. Zim smirked devilishly at him.

"You're still as evil as ever," Dib growled. Zim hummed, kicking the door shut. They should have gotten him his own in that case. He tossed the empty cup into the trash, Gaz graciously keeping it open for him to do so. Zim clapped his hands together and grabbed them both by their hands, dragging them to the linen closet elevator.

"Now that I've gotten my revenge for your inconsiderate, thoughtless actions…" Zim began. Dib groaned loudly. "I really do have something to show you both."

Gaz swung on her heels on the ride down. She eyed Zim up and leaned against him to get his attention. "Is it something weird?"

"No."

"Something illegal?"

"…Technically, no."

"Oh, that's real convincing," Gaz teases. Zim jerks her off his shoulder. Gaz sticks her tongue out at him. "Let me have some fun."

"I refuse."

The elevator stopped and Zim marched out, dragging them with him. He pulled them into a lab and sat them on a bench. Then, pulled them away from the wall, the bench's legs dragging across the floor with a horrid screeching sound. Gaz kicked out at him, shouting for him to stop, but he simply lifted himself away with his PAK legs and a smirk. She kicked out at him again, fruitlessly, until he deposited her back onto the bench. When he moves around them, Dib and Gaz both try to turn to follow him and Zim simply sets his hands on their heads and turns them back, forward-facing.

"No peeking."

"Are you serious?" Dib laughs.

He had an idea what Zim was doing and took off his trench coat. Gaz eyed him warily. Realization started to dawn on her, however. She sighed, throwing her jacket across the lab, not caring where it landed. She glared at the wall for a while, and Dib practically vibrated next to her, until they heard a cart being rolled in behind them. Gaz crossed her legs and arms, tapping her fingers with both impatience and anxiety.

"Okay, still no looking," Zim says.

"You put anything on me before I can see it and I'm taking a bat to your favorite lab room," Gaz threatens. Zim paused. She could hear his claws clacking on a metal surface and he sighed heavily.

"Fine, you savages."

Dib turned sharply. "Hey, I'm not—OH."

Dib jumped up from his seat to rush over to the cart. He was bouncing on his heels. Zim glanced up at Gaz, who was eyeing the cart with one eye open. She slowly stood and marched over to the cart. The PAKs were laid on top side by side. Zim lifted his hands off the cart's top, fidgeting nervously as they siblings looked them over. They looked like regular PAKs, save that they were slightly smaller and color coded. One was a familiar blue that made one immediately think of Dib and the other matched Gaz's hair tone. She raised a brow at them, then at Zim.

"How do they go on?" she asks.

"Computer!" Zim calls.

Cables drop from the ceiling. A hiss of air pulls their attention back to the cart where the cables slip into the opening slides on the PAKs. Each PAK lights up, the colors growing brighter and darker as the lights pulse slowly. Once the light sticks, remaining on, Zim lifts up Dib's PAK first to show the underside. There were two circles, one above the other, equidistant from each other in the center line of the PAK. The underside panel looked temporary. Gaz stared at the two circles. Dib leaned closer and gave an affirmative 'ooh'.

"They're not ready," Zim admits. "But I need to test them before putting on final touches and finishing the programming."

"And they go on by…?" Gaz prompted, waving her hand in the motion.

"…Like how mine does…" Zim says slowly. Gaz stared at him.

"I don't thin—"

Dib tore off his shirt, turning around.

"Go ahead!" he said eagerly. Gaz facepalmed. She took a deep breath and glared at the two boys through her fingers. Zim's face darkened in color and he looked down at the cart. Gaz smirked, elbowing Dib's arm.

"He isn't gonna put the shirt back on until you do," she says. She almost, almost, snorted when she saw real deliberation cross his face before he walked around the cart to get to Dib's back. "A little overeager, don't you think?"

"I've been trying to study these things for years," Dib shoots back.

"It might hurt," Zim warns.

"I figured," Dib says. "I expec—ow! Motherfucker!"

Zim had set the PAK right on his back, with what looked like practiced ease, and Dib jumped, the PAK following just behind him, a very small cable pulling from the top circular slot of the PAK. Gaz could see a needle stuck into Dib's skin, watching the flat surface of the cable rest on his skin when he settled again with a grimace.

"I warned you," Zim chastised. "Don't move like that again."

"I wouldn't even think of it," Dib groaned.

"Was it that bad?" Gaz asks.

"Yes."

"Drama Queen," Zim mumbled.

Dib aimed to kick him but stumbled from the odd angle of Zim being behind him and the weight of the PAK throwing him off. Zim caught his shoulders and righted him again. He dragged his hands down to the PAK, setting it up on him.

"Done?" Zim asked. Dib could hear the smirk on his face.

"Never."

"Mhm," Zim replied absently. He had opened the top slot of the PAK and was looking over the insides. Gaz inched her way closer to get a peek. She couldn't make out anything that was happening inside the PAK. There was space for storage, at the bottom portion of the central area, and she could see plenty of mechanics laden out throughout the PAK itself. They were comprised of surprisingly small parts, all compact in perfect order for maximum space. Zim's own PAK gave him a small tablet that he hooked up to Dib's PAK. He set the tablet on the cart.

"Don't move too far, it's running a diagnostic," he says. Dib nodded, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Zim turned to Gaz next. She stared at him for a while (vaguely wondering if she'd ever win a staring contest or if it'd be comparable to trying with a cat).

She finally sighed.

"Okay, fine."

Zim lifted the PAK up, waiting patiently. Gaz sat beside Dib, pulling up the back of her shirt and holding it in place in front of her much like Dib was, though he was doing so to keep his own arms warm. Zim knelt behind her and paused.

"What is this?" he asks, balancing the PAK on his knee and poking at the fabric on her back.

"A bra," Gaz says plainly. Dib snorted, looking away when Zim shot him a glare. "Never seen a bra before, space boy?"

"I don't know—"

"Just put the PAK on, you virgin."

Zim started to stutter and failed to form a coherent sentence for a good minute before he ungracefully shoved the PAK against Gaz's back. She felt the placement was still perfect. She also felt that the needle stick itself all the way to her spine. Gaz jerked away with a gasp. She whirled around, kicking out her leg. Zim's PAK lifted him up out of her range.

"OW!"

"Hey, you knew it would hurt!" Zim shouted, his PAK's spider legs carrying him over the cart to put it between him and her. It dropped him a new tablet into his hand. "Now turn back around so I can set this up."

"Come closer right now, I won't bite," Gaz growls.

"…You will hit, though."

"Maybe."

"Gaz, be nicer," Dib pleads. He shifted his weight, trying to crack his neck. It popped, but he could feel the pull of the PAK on his back. Zim gave a very audible, disgusted sound.

"No! No, no, no!" he shouted.

"But I needed to pop my neck," Dib whined. Gaz busied herself with turning back around. She was very tempted to do the same, but she didn't feel like testing that kind of sensation in her spine.

"The needle is in my spine," Gaz growls.

"So is Dib's, why do you think it hurt?" Zim shoots back. Gaz's neck did pop when she whipped her head around to shoot Zim a glare. He recoiled in disgust. "FOR IRK'S SAKE, STOP DOING THAT!"

"Make me."

"Gaz…" Dib whined. Gaz huffed, turning back around. After a moment, she felt Zim set the cable for the tablet into the PAK. There was a barely perceptible whir from the PAK as it communicated with the tablet. She glanced over at Dib, who was following Zim as he walked around to sit in front of them.

"Now what?" Gaz asks.

"We wait until diagnostics are run," Zim says. "I have to know how the PAK is reacting to your body before I can continue."

"So, it'll tell you if the PAK will reject us or something?" Dib asks. Zim nodded.

"The parts I grabbed from the market should help it synchronize. But, I must be certain."

Dib nodded, rocking back and forth as he waited. Gaz hummed, finally noticing that a large portion of the weight of the PAK was being held by the cables attaching it to the power in the ceiling, and then a thought struck her. "How they going to stay on themselves?"

Zim's smile widened, a little too wide, and he jumped up. Clearly, the thought had occurred to him, because he was sprinting away to wherever he'd gotten the cart. Gaz watched the door for a few moments. Dib turned to it as well, both leaning around the cart, when they started to hear the sounds of Zim frantically looking through drawers. He was back in the room rather quickly, presenting two sets of what looked like backpack straps with connecting clips at the top and bottom ends.

"Are those… backpack straps?" Dib asks. Zim nodded enthusiastically.

"They'll attach to the PAK, and I'm going to use a hologram to make them look like backpacks," Zim says. "If you want a more permanent solution, however, I'd have to do surgery for the tube attachments. Reinforce your spines for the weight."

"Eugh!" Gaz turned and gagged. "Ew, no."

"Didn't think you'd be up for it," Zim admitted. He glanced at Dib, who looked disturbed, but not as much as Gaz. "Either of you."

"I mean, it's just…. Something to think about," Dib says. "I mean, I don't see a way around it without the straps."

"Do they have to look like backpacks? That's kind of weird, going to a store with a backpack. Everyone's going to think we're stealing shit," Gaz says. Zim hummed. He tossed the straps onto the cart, moving behind both siblings to inspect the PAKs. He balanced the tablets on each knee.

"I can make them invisible with the hologram," Zim mumbles, thinking to himself and scrolling through the tablets. He could refract light off them, if he gave the PAKs shifting plates as the external shell. A way to refract light around them and add the illusion of fabric laying across their backs. It could work, though it would take him longer to finish the PAKs. Perhaps he'd be able to add it to his own hologram disguise in the process.

"Why not? Go for it," Gaz says, shrugging. Zim nodded, looking up and down the tablet's data.

"Well, good news is that the PAKs seem to be accepting you… mostly…" Zim says.

"Mostly?" Dib asks.

Zim reached up, pulling the tablet cables out of the PAKs. Dib turned to him. Plain as day, Zim was lost in his thoughts. His antennae twitched occasionally in that adorable way they would when he was working on the long projects. His brow furrowed like it tended to do when he was thinking hard and cut out listening to anything around him—unless it was loud enough to break his concentration. Dib snorted, turning to Gaz instead, who was staring longingly at the Game Slave hidden in her jacket pocket.

"Hey."

She turned to him with a 'hm?'.

"You think immortality is gonna be weird?"

Gaz stared at him a moment and looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know. Probably. Get to see history pass you by. That'll be cool. I get to see all the new games for the next few centuries. At minimum. That'll be worth it."

"Are games all you think about?"

"Yes."

"Gaz."

"Dib."

Dib blinked slowly at her. He could see the smirk starting to form on her face. He narrowed his eyes at her. "What?"

"Excited to spend immortality with your alien boyfr—"

"Oh, that'll work," Zim mumbled suddenly. Dib jerked, falling on his side, face red. Gaz barked a laugh. Zim glanced at them quizzically, more caught off by Gaz's laugh than Dib's fall. "What, did your massive head make you off balance?"

"MY HEAD IS NOT BIG," Dib growled, sitting back up.

He gave a very undignified yelp when Zim pulled the PAK off. He set it back on the cart and turned to Gaz. She leveled her gaze at him, unblinking like a cat, before slowly turning for him to take it off as well. She gave a grunt when it was detached; but made little other noise. Zim dabbed the small bit of blood off their backs and put a band aid over the site.

"Hey, I got a request," Gaz says, pulling her shirt back over. Zim glanced up at her. She turned to him, serious. "I want mine to look like a skull."

Zim blinked at her. Dib did the same.

"What?"

"Make mine look like a skull."

"Make—what?" Zim asks. He looked over the PAK, turning it over. He couldn't fit that many holes on the surface, not without compromising something internally or risking the integrity of the PAK's shape and structure. Perhaps cosmetically, with colored divots in the top. "…Maybe."

"Figure it out," Gaz says, leaning over the PAK. Zim felt a little pride that she wanted it customized. That meant she was going to wear it. Tailoring a PAK wasn't always something Irkens did—not that they couldn't, they were just limited—but Zim knew how. He looked up at Dib next, who was looking over his own similarly.

"And you?" Zim asks.

"Hmm… Can I do that later?"

"Of course."

"Then, I'll leave mine for now," he says.

Gaz left them to retrieve her jacket. She had to scour the room to find it. She thought it had landed further to the right—in fact she knew that she had because she'd just been looking at it when Dib pulled her attention away—and now she couldn't see it. She started to walk the perimeter of the room. Finally, she spotted the color across the room, near the door of all places. She had thrown it practically in the opposite direction, making it seem less odd when the lump of fabric shifted and started to inch closer to the door like an inch worm.

Gaz walked up briskly, following the moving lump out the door and down the hall. By the time she'd caught up with it, it was almost at the massive walk-in closet. She snatched the jacket up, revealing Gir underneath. He froze for a moment, looking caught, and then popped up with a happy squeal.

"You found me!"

"I did," Gaz said, slipping her coat back on. "Almost got away from me, too, little thief."

Gir snapped his fingers—the sound of metal making a snap was far stranger than she had ever imagined it might have sounded—and scuffed the floor in a kick with a 'shoot'. It was oddly reminiscent of what Dib used to do when they were kids. He'd copied it off TV for years, well into middle school, before he'd grown out of the habit. Gaz wouldn't be surprised if Gir mimicked TV characters as often as he did other people. Something about learning AI, if she had to guess, given the Computer seemed entirely like a functional brain set into the base—at least in her perspective that's what it felt like.

Gaz looked up from him as he started to spin, waiting for her to do something, into the walk-in closet. She spotted a worktable that hadn't been present before in the corner. Jean jackets were strewn on top with the thread and needles laid out along the wall in meticulous fashion. The needles were put into a box with a clasp, likely so Gir wouldn't try eating them. Having to root around the robot's body or head to find a needle seemed dangerous. Gaz wouldn't want that job, either.

She marched up to the table, feeling Gir jump and hug her leg as she did, and stopped in front of it. Gir just hung on, humming to himself. The jackets themselves had partially sewn Irken insignias on them. Gaz could just barely make out the shapes now that she'd seen the jackets Zim had crafted before. Below the insignias were symbols. It took her a moment to realize they were Irken lettering. She held one up, jumping just a bit when she heard a voice behind her.

"There you are—ah, GIr. I should have known."

"Hey, Zim, you're still sewing?" Gaz asks, waving the jacket. Zim paused before running up and snatching the jacket out of her hands.

"That is a project you're not allowed to see yet!" he says.

"Another one?" Dib asks from the door. Gaz sauntered off to him.

"Not that I could make out what it says, anyway," she mumbles. She turned to Zim with a smirk. "But it's it cute? He took up a hobby."

"A human one!" Dib tacked on. Zim was blushing furiously, stuffing the jackets into the drawers of the worktable. "I'm so flattered."

"Don't be," Zim says, marching over to them.

"But it's flattering!"

"No, it is not!"

"It's a sign of progress," Dib says smugly. Zim smacked him on the arm. "Ow. Are they presents for the holidays?"

"Yes, so no peeking," Zim orders. Gaz draped her arm around his shoulders.

"Hey, can you teach me?" she asks. "I suck at it."

"All those years of fixing his coats did nothing for you?" Zim asks, his voice ready to start teasing her relentlessly if she gave him the inch he was searching for.

"Are you kidding? She never even offered to help," Dib says. "I had to do it."

"And boy, did you suck at it," Gaz says.

"Hey, no one could teach me! I was going off videos online!"

"I will teach you both if you just stop screaming into my antennae!" Zim shouts. His voice bounced off the lab walls far more than either of theirs had, ironically. Gir climbed up Gaz's side, expertly avoiding her batting hands, until he was perched on her shoulder.

"Teach me! Teach me!"

"Absolutely not, you'll trying webbing the whole base in string. I can see it," Zim says. Gir looked ready to bring on the crocodile tears. Gaz took him off her shoulder and held him like a toy—he seemed to like being held that way—so he'd calm down.

"I'll show you," she promises.

"Absolutely not!"

"Stop me, coward," Gaz dared.

"I retract my offer to teach you."

"Oh, God, fine. I won't show him how to web up the base, whatever that means," Gaz says, slipping into the elevator first.

"Couldn't you get around just fine anyway?" Dib asks, the thought of Zim's PAK legs moving him like a spider a rather vivid image coming to mind.

"Clean up." Zim says. That's all he had to say. Gaz pursed her lips.

"Okay, fine, maybe I won't teach him anything," she says. Gir whined loudly and she settled a hand on his head. It, surprisingly, worked to shut the robot up. For now, at least. "I don't trust you're not going to try it at the house."

"I hadn't thought of that," Dib admitted. Zim looked smug.

"Exactly. I'm saving all of us."