A/N: So, this is a three shot I wrote, revolving around the Membrane family. Although, as you'll no doubt notice, I never once refer to Membrane as such. He's not 'Professor Membrane' yet in the timeline, so he's simply called 'the scientist' the majority of the time.

This was inspired by listening to 'The Scientist' one too many times… aw, heck, I can NEVER get sick of that song, who am I kidding?

Hope you enjoy!

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It was abnormally warm and sunny that day, the day of her funeral, and there was a gentle wind blowing through the cemetery trees. The ceremony had ended, and the people who had come to pay their respects had already left. It was near sundown, and yet one man was still standing next to her. Or, her grave stone, at least.

He had barely moved at all since he had arrived much earlier in the day. Even now that night was falling, the scientist seemed to have no intentions of leaving. His normally goggled eyes fixed upon the hard marble of the stone before him. He had read the inscribed name more times than he cared to count:

Alumina Page-Tabor

It was a name he was used to seeing in papers, having discovered something wonderful; or displayed on his cell phone; or… on their wedding certificate. Her name was something he saw in his daily life often, and now this would be the only place her name would be assured.

Perhaps she would be in the obituaries of the paper, but if she was in there for any reason it wouldn't be because of her scientific achievements.

In fact, the man doubted that there would be any more news on her; the last news article to bear her name read:

Scientist Killed in Lab Accident, Questions on Safety Raised

Well, those concerns had come a bit too late, hadn't they? The man thought with a blank expression; it was the same expression he had worn the entire day. He had not managed to cry, still not able to fully accept that his wife was gone and would never be coming back.

The scientist swallowed, and his mouth ticked at its corner as though it wanted to frown. It didn't, however, and the man instead placed his hand a top of the tomb stone. Cold greeted his, for once, ungloved hand. He made no move to pull away.

Sucking in a deep breath, the man all at once began to consider what this meant. What this hard slab of stone meant. Of course, he knew. He knew from the moment he had gotten the call from the lab where they both worked. Yet, he had found it too painful to dwell on… far too painful.

This meant that… that he would never be able to see her face again. That she would never be able to do all of those things she wanted to do for humanity… And that they would never be able to start a family.

That thought sent a wave a tension throughout his body, but it only caused his grip to tighten upon the immovable stone.

"Dib," the word escaped from his mouth in little more than a hiss. That name… it had sounded so silly at the time. …It hadn't even been more than two weeks ago, today.

"So, what if I am pregnant?" came the question from a woman in a lab coat. She had a pretty face, framed by light purple hair that fell blandly behind her. She had a slight smirk on her face, which could just be seen above her coat. Her eyes were covered completely by bluish goggles, but the man she was addressing knew full well that there was a coy expression beneath them.

"Are you?" he questioned, barely looking up from his work, attempting not to look fazed. But she knew better than that.

"And what if I aaaaam?" the woman repeated, poking the man in the chest with a probe she had been using to dissect something slimy.

Frowning slightly as he was poked, the man finally looked away from the experiment that he was working on. His brow was quirked slightly, as though wondering why she was bringing this up at this exact moment. "Then… I suppose we would have to NAME him!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, so it's automatically a him, huh?" the woman questioned, pretending to be offended as she crossed her arms.

"OR her," he added quickly, but it was too late.

"No, no, it's a him," she insisted, waggling a finger at him, "And I get to name him."

"But…" the scientist began to protest, beginning to think that he had been tricked, somehow.

"Now, now, it's only fair," she responded, twirling the probe in her gloved hand, "I get to name him if he's a boy, and if he's a girl than you get to name him." She explained, grinning as she drew to a close, knowing full well that the latter part of her sentence made no sense.

Somewhat amused by this point, the man gave a slight nod before returning to his work. "And just what would you NAME him?"

At this question, the woman grinned strangely. "Oh, I don't know," she said in a half giggle, "Something unique. Something nobody else is named."

"His name is going to be a name, though, isn't it?" the man asked warily, not quite sure what ridiculous word his wife may have cooked up for their potential son.

The laughter that was her reply did nothing to quell his fears. "Well, actually…"

"It's not going to be something SILLY like… like…" the scientist stammered, moving his arm about to illustrate how silly something may be.

"Dib?"

"Yes, like Dib," he agreed, muscles relaxing before realization set in. "Dib? How'd you come up with that?"

His wife snorted at his reaction, having completely forgotten about the work set before her. "You know those ice cream commercials?" she asked through a smile.

"You want to name our son after an ice cream product?!"

"You don't think it's cute?" she inquired innocuously, making a pouty face at her husband.

The man blinked, although it was impossible to tell underneath his goggles. "Well, cute or not, it's not really a SCIENTIFIC name," he countered, although he was slightly confused by this entire conversation.

The woman scoffed, placing a hand on her hip. "Oh, and I suppose you'd name our daughter something like… Plasma or… Liquid? Or maybe Gas?" she suggested, "Those would all be great names, wouldn't they?"

"Don't be ridiculous," the scientist shooed the suggestions away, "I'd never name my daughter something like Liquid or Gas," he paused, thinking, "MAYBE Plasma." This received another snigger from his wife, much to his chagrin. "But we're not being serious about this, are we?"

"And what if we are?" she answered slyly, raising one of her thin eyebrows.

"Dib," he repeated the name, as though testing it out. He had never really found out if she was serious about the whole thing or not, but, somehow, it didn't even matter if she was.

The wind was picking up now, cutting through his suit as though it were paper. A chill shot up his spine, but he did not remove his hand from the stone, where it still rested. Somehow he thought the shiver appropriate, for what he was considering: genetic engineering.

It presented some very large moral qualms, after all. …None of which he cared about.

"So, Dib, then," he conceded to the grave before him, "Our son's name will be Dib."

--

A/N: Nyeheh, yes… I thought I would have more to say about this… but I don't really. Nothing that important, anyway.

Well, except that Membrane's real last name, Tabor, was unwittingly inspired by a local doctor in my area, with all of his lasik eye surgery commercials.

On to part twoooooo