"Computer!" Dib yelled in frustration. GIR practically tackled him in a bid to wake him up. Shoving him off the couch when he did do it fast enough.

He blearily checked his watch. "What happened? I've only been out for like two hours…" A part of him worried. But at the same time, the computer wasn't frantically trying to get his attention like with the call. Did Zim lock himself up again?

"Master's missing!" GIR tearfully announced. Shocking Dib to his feet.

"What!?"

"He's fine. GIR merely panicked when he woke up without him." The computer quickly chimed in. Calming Dib, but having no effect on the bot.

"He's in the lower levels." GIR didn't waste a second, and bolted to the elevator. The computer was barely able to open it before he crashed into it.

"He decided to confront his leaders…" He continued after the doors had shut. Dib's blood went cold.

"It didn't go well, did it?" He ventured.

"It was never going to go well. But it went as best as it likely could. Zim defended himself. Willingly severing himself from irken society…I am not certain how he plans to continue." Dib found himself staring at the wall deep in thought.

So that was it. Zim had accepted that he wasn't an invader. If even the computer didn't know what he was going to do next…it set Dib on edge. He somehow doubted that he would be much of a threat to Earth at this point. It's clear that the only reason he tried to take it over was because he was ordered to. There was nothing to gain from achieving that now.

But what if he ended up searching for another planet to conquer on his own accord? The boy had no clue what he'd do. There's no way he could just let him go off and destroy or enslave another civilization without at least trying to stop him.

He needed to talk with Zim.

"When will he be back up?" He stood.

"Probably soon. He seems to have calmed himself." The computer replied. Seemingly unconcerned.

"You should sleep if you still need to. No one is in danger." He continued after a beat.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. If he does something stupid again I'm gonna need it." Dib announced with a sigh, and laid back down. He could deal with all that when he woke up.

When he did a few hours later, he'd asked the computer how the pair were, and was only told that they were fine. He'd finally left after being informed that Zim had changed his bandages on his own accord.

Buzz…buzz… Dib's phone rang in his pocket. His teacher gave him a look of displeasure. He quickly apologized and ran for the hall. Remembering the last time he got a sudden call while in school, he took his bag with him. Earning an even heavier look of distaste.

"Yeah?" Dib called into the unknown number.

"This is Zim." Dib stopped, and automatically started walking to the front entrance. At this rate he'd have to repeat the year. But that didn't slow him down in any meaningful way. If he was being honest he could probably just test out if he wanted to.

"I'm in class." Dib whined.

"And now that you're not, I need you to bring me a few things…" Dib sighed. He figured this wasn't a social call. It had barely been a week since the alien collapsed. He couldn't imagine what he could be doing while still in such bad shape.

"Did you seriously just call me to do your shopping?" He could sense the alien bristle.

"I am not sending you "shopping". I need you to procure a few machine parts." So, shopping.

"Parts? Parts for what?" Dib slowed. Mentally preparing himself for whatever he was about to be sucked into.

"It doesn't matter what, but it is of utmost importance." That's specific.

"How important is it if you won't tell me?"

"Important enough for me not to give you details." The irken childishly defended.

"Fine… What do you need?" Dib relented. He could always just refuse to find certain things.

"I will send you a list of very specific parts. Get them by any means necessary."

"Alright. But if they're hard to get, don't expect them by tonight." He explained. Continuing when a thought struck him. "What are you calling me on?"

"...just a simple communicator."

"Got it." With the call still going, he quickly wrote the number down. Internally laughing that an actual alien was now in his contact list. He'll have to ask the computer if he has any good pictures to put on it. "I'm going to keep calling you with this number then." As soon as he finished the sentence the alien had hung up.

It wasn't long before his phone pinged with a new text message. A neatly formatted list.

- Model courier TB81 1961 portable transistor radio. Bring the whole device.

- Any amount of raw plutonium ore.

- Computers of the following models, manufacturing years…

…The list went on in much the same fashion.

…what?

Dib stared down at the items. Half of him was afraid to get them. Uneasy that Zim wouldn't disclose his intentions. The other half was painfully curious how most of them would be remotely useful. But he knew that curiosity would win out in the end. It always did. So instead of wasting time, he quickly ran home.

It was in the middle of the school day. So the place was empty. For once, he was glad his father was away. He had no clue how he'd even begin to explain why he was rifling through his lab in search of plutonium. Or why he was suddenly very interested in old radios. His computer wasn't giving him much in the way of results. Many of the items Zim requested were either hot collectors items, or so unusual and specific that Dib wasn't sure where he should look first.

He grabbed a credit card from his drawer on his way out. One he'd been given for emergencies. He then grabbed his bike and started towards the local antique shops. Worst came to worst, it wouldn't be the first time he'd gone through the dump for machine parts…

Dib lifted his foot, and carefully tapped the base door. In his arms was a large box stuffed with all manner of junk. Radioactive or otherwise. The irken opened it after a moment. And wordlessly let the boy in. Dib noticed he looked tired. Not the thick exhaustion of illness, but the eye-strained weariness one earned from working on something.

Not for the first time, Dib wondered if he'd made a mistake by handing over the box.

"Didn't find everything. The auction houses didn't even have some of the bigger stuff." Dib spoke honestly. He didn't have to refuse to retrieve anything. He genuinely couldn't find about a quarter of the list. He set it down on Zim's kitchen table. The irken gave it a quick once over.

"Shame. This will have to do." Zim announced. Seemingly unsurprised. "That's all for now. Keep your communicator on." He downright ordered, and carried the box down to his lab. "Oh yeah, your jacket's hanging by the door. " He turned back to say just before disappearing.

Dib turned to the coat hanger. His beloved trench coat had been somehow cleaned. He approached it, and took it down. Immediately he noticed many small holes and tears had been repaired. Like they were never even there.

"Turns out that human fabric doesn't like irken blood. Took him days to get it all out." The computer chuckled, then continued jovially. "You should've heard him curse…"

"Computer?" Dib called to the ceiling. He quickly put on the black garment for safekeeping. "What's he working on?"

"I have a few guesses, but I'm not sure. The way he's constructing it suggests that he's trying to imitate irken technology with earthen scraps." The computer had a sneaking suspicion that he was trying to fix his pak. He didn't think the ex-invader would really be able to pull it off, but he wasn't about to tell him that. Pak parts were notoriously difficult to manufacture; even on Irk.

"...is it dangerous?"

"No."

"Has he said anything?"

"If you are referring to invading, the planet is safe. I don't foresee him continuing the mission." The computer answered honestly.

"...Is he doing okay? You can still access his lab, right?" Dib asked. Anxiety creeped into his voice.

"Yes. He's also letting GIR stay down there with him. So I'm not overly concerned. It will still take a large amount of time to fully heal, but its rate has thankfully stabilized." Dib nodded.

"Alright. I'll get going then. See you later."

Zim allowed himself to be totally engrossed in his work. He hadn't been able to calm his racing thoughts. He was convinced that his Tallest's betrayal would never cease to hurt. The Tallest. Not his Tallest. Not anymore. He mentally corrected.

The mere fact that that thought even existed was proof of his defective nature. And it had somehow given him even more questions. Like why they would send a defective irken to a warzone. He'd accepted that these wouldn't get answered.

He wondered how Dib was doing. He was a little surprised that the boy agreed to grab those parts so easily. He could only imagine whatever horrors the human must think he's creating. He'd tell him once he knew for certain if his project was possible or not. He supposed he did owe Dib that much. He knew stitching his wounds must have been grizzly. But hadn't realized just how much so until he found him huddled over that trash can.

He grimaced at the thought. It was beyond shameful to have allowed himself to be helped like that. Especially when it was caused by his own neglect. Another irken would have left him to die as he deserved. And that's not even taking his defectiveness into account.

He looked down at his soaked bandages and cursed. All his tunics were currently being laundered. Well, being decontaminated is probably the best word for it.

He took himself to the lower levels to take care of it. A quick endeavor now that he actually bothered to care for it. He then went to retrieve a clean uniform. But something stopped him.

He grabbed it, but then found himself staring at it for minutes on end. Some part of him simply didn't want to put it on. So he tossed it back, and made his way to the storage room.

After nearly an hour digging, he unearthed his former uniform. One he'd completely tossed aside when he received his invader tunic. He pulled out his Elite uniform, and held it in front of him. He'd modify it, sure. There were many technological components that could be removed. Invader uniforms were somewhat plain. Most of an invader's job was gathering intel. An Elite's uniform was meant to be worn on a battlefield. Unique enough to strike fear into the enemy. So they knew precisely what you were.

He'd remove most of the metal. Leaving only what could be practical. He could also afford to lose the armor. The fabric had protective fibers woven into it. He wouldn't encounter anything that could pierce it on earth.

The irken symbols could definitely go too…

It had gone on like this for several days. He'd periodically called Dib to demand more parts. Mercifully emerging from the lab for food and sleep on a semi regular basis.

Then one night the computer jolted out of sleep mode. He could practically feel the soul deep relief that flooded Zim as something kicked into high gear, and rushed to fix his battered shell. Carefully calculated doses of pain relievers bathed his system, and all at once, his prosthetic arm snapped into perfect working order. The computer no longer registered it as a foreign body.

He could hardly believe it. His HCPU was back online. Zim had done it. He had managed to create the vital part from non-irken machine scraps.

"Dib!" The computer shouted. Trying to get the attention of the sleeping boy on the sofa. He jolted awake.

"...huh?"

"He did it!" He stated simply. Dib stared blankly at the camera. "He fixed his pak. He's healing now."

"Really?" Dib sat up. Letting the blanket fall wherever. "Are you saying he made a functional piece of irken tech out of all that junk?" He continued. Openly impressed.

"I don't know how either. Frankly, I didn't even think it was possible."

"Where is he now?"

"He's coming up from the labs." He watched Dib stand, and look towards the elevator in anticipation.

Of course the computer had noticed Zim altering his old Elite uniform. He's rather glad he did. He was afraid that he'd cling to the invader uniform. By changing, he was showing that he had probably accepted everything, and was ready to move on. Move on to what, nobody knew just yet.

He hadn't bothered telling Dib. The boy had helped more than he knew. But he still remained cautious. Despite giving Zim machine parts, and willing to fall asleep in the irken's presence, he remained weary. He didn't necessarily blame him. He was trying to take over his home planet, afterall. But the last thing he needed was for Dib to know that Zim had foregone his invader uniform in favor of one much better suited for combat, and jump to conclusions.

The elevator opened to a very energized looking irken. As if the past few weeks of pain, injury and infection had never happened. Dib immediately noticed the wardrobe change.

Now he had a bulky looking red top with a small cape in the back. Subtle plates were hidden in the shoulders and turtleneck. Thin gauntlets, and boots made out of the same odd material as the apparent armor. The pants remained the same.

"What happened to your uniform?"

"There's no need for it anymore." Dib brightened up. Having no need for an invader uniform was a good sign. "My spares are too bloodstained to be salvaged." Zim added.

"What's that one for? Is that just something that all irkens wear?" Dib asked curiously. It looked a little too 'military' to be casual. But what did he know?

Surprisingly, Zim answered.

"There is a group of highly skilled irkens known as the Irken Elite. Invaders are picked from them."

"And you were in it?" He questioned. His heart always raced a little when he'd find out things that made the alien more dangerous than he knew. But it made sense.

"Yes. You can't train to be an invader without it." He explained. "Assuming that wasn't fake too…" Zim continued after a beat.

Dib grimaced. He didn't think about all the things the alien must be questioning after everything. To literally have no idea what parts of your life were faked. And what things you actually achieved. It's a depressing and terrifying thought. And then to go through it on an alien planet where your only friends are a couple of robots and some native kid that at one point wanted him dead?

Something snapped in Dib

"Well, fuck'em." He declared resolutely. Distantly, the computer chuckled. Zim's head snapped up to meet his.

"From what I gather, you managed to get this far while your leaders were intentionally trying to push you down!" He continued. Riling himself up more and more. "Think about it. How good would an irken have to be to become an Elite while being defective?" Zim flinched. But he needed to hear it. "Just how good of an engineer would he have to be to fix his pak with nothing but a bunch of crappy human tech while deathly injured?"

Zim's eyes bore into his.

"If I were irken, I'd probably be defective too." He finished. Jamming a finger in his chest for good measure. For once, feeling a weird solidarity with his once sworn enemy. Both of their respective species hated them so damn much.

Zim's own leaders had decided that there was something wrong with him. And in response, strung him along for years that he was an invader, and that he had this mission to complete. All while putting him at every disadvantage to actually achieve it. And that's only what Dib knows. Who knows what else they've done.

And Dib's own people had branded him as insane. Putting him down at every opportunity. Making him feel worthless because he wasn't a mini professor Membrane. Treating him like some insane child who was too far gone in his own delusions of an alien invasion to understand the world around him. There were too many days where he wondered if he should just let Zim take the planet.

Zim stayed silent. Staring at him like he wasn't sure how to respond. So Dib did it for him.

"It's your life, Zim. Not your leaders'. So, what do you want to do with it?"

"I…I don't know" He said, looking as lost as he could.

"There's a lot of things to do, Zim. Not just on Earth. You're just barred from Irk, right?" Zim frowned, but nodded. He could see where Dib was going. The gears in his head turned. "Then you have a literal universe worth of things to do. There's gotta be something."

"I have…ideas. But for now, I need to return to my lab." He announced. And made a swift exit. Mumbling something about being there when GIR wakes up.

"That's good. You gave him something to think about." The computer spoke up. Dib didn't respond.

Instead he reflected on the past few weeks. Just how much had changed. It had started with a wounded Zim coming back to Earth, a new person. And slowly he healed into a rebel irken who had rejected his species for all they'd done to him. Between the uniform change, the new arm, and the new demeanor, it's like he really did come back as a new irken. But Zim was still there. He would never leave. He was just…different.

Dib liked this difference. He may have even gained a friend out of this whole thing. He decided to leave the three of them alone for a while, and quickly left for his house.