The opposition was on the move. There were six separate instances of Zim disappearing to the bathroom today, and he hadn't shown up to lunch at all. The fact that Ms. Bitters allowed it meant that she may have been infected or blackmailed or any number of other things, too. Dib's chair creaked as he sat back, running perplexed fingers through his hair. It was greasier than he remembered, and he made a note to do something about that in the morning. His room was dark, so the bright blue of his monitor was something of an eye strain, but he couldn't remember exactly how it had gotten so late already.

Zim had returned home immediately after school. Dib had been quick enough to watch it happen, but it made the silence even more unnerving. Usually at this point in the evening, the weird robot was at least in the front room watching what more deranged options were still available on cable. They still had cable. And tonight, there was absolutely nothing. Dark windows. It almost looked like the security system wasn't even armed.

Like it wasn't even armed. His breath leapt in his lungs. Maybe Zim was having system failures! This would be the perfect time for counter measures. The thought whipped his mind into a frenzy and he fumbled from his seat, sending it colliding into the bed behind him. His briefcase lay tucked at its foot and he whipped it open, rust crumbling off the cogs in his skull as he looked over the contents. Net gun, handcuffs, cattle prod; disarming Zim's pesky PAK was of course a priority that he hadn't figured out yet, but there was no time like the present to-

"What are you doing?"

The squawk that leapt from Dib surprised himself and he whipped around, back straight in the face of his younger sister.

"Gaz! Zim's home but his systems are down, I've finally got a chance to go on the offensive and-"

"I don't care. You're being loud! I was on the last miniboss for Killbot Phantasm 12 and your banging around up here screwed me up!"

"You're not listening, this could finally be the night! Come on, help me out, together we could finally put Zim behind bars!"

"No, you're not listening." Dib felt the metal of his bed frame bite into his back as he leaned away from the girl, who stormed in to stop just inches from him. "Stop being a loud freak before I stop you myself!"

He watched as she lingered there, fists clenched, before she whipped around to stalk out.

"At least tell dad if I'm not back by morning?"

"Fat chance!"

Gaz's stomping receded back down the stairwell and Dib let a sigh escape him. Gaz's refusal was disappointing, but expected. He'd leave a note. He scratched one down and left it on his pillow before throwing the window open and tossing the flimsy fire ladder from his closet down. The cold outside air bore down on him at the action, smelling of rain, and for just a second he felt himself hesitate. Usually he had a stronger plan than this. But opportunity didn't wait for plans, so he collected his case and backed himself out and down to the cool grass below.

The city felt like it was dusk despite the clock reading 2AM. Light pollution against clouds would do that. It left more light for him to travel by and he sprinted as soon as he was sure he wouldn't be heard. His throat and lungs burned by the time he reached Zim's street, so he tucked into a corner to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. He'd go in through the window. Listening would be key- he'd get the drop on Zim and catch him off guard in his own home, ideally with the net. If the computer was still operational, well he'd… he'd figure it out.

He straightened, coughed twice, and once the burning in his sides had dulled to an ache he sidled up to the alien perimeter. He picked a pebble out of the gutter and flicked it onto the walkway, squatting behind the fence to watch. Nothing. No lights, no killer gnomes. Just a puff of apathetic wind from the clouds. A good start. Slowly, he inched a step onto the property. Then two. He got all the way up to the window without incident, though with one of the demon-gnomes at his back he found himself jittery and rushed. The window slid open- moron still didn't lock them, despite the copious other security measures- but it did so with a pronounced screech. Dib cringed into himself and froze, listening to the sleeping breath of the deceptively large home.

Nothing.

It was a slow wrestle to lift himself through the window silently, with the briefcase. A backpack would have been more practical, but he wouldn't be caught dead in news photos with a backpack like some school kid. The home had a stale, acrid breath that quickly swallowed the fresh evening air and made the carpet feel grimy underneath him, regardless of how clean it may have looked. He decided not to risk inching the window shut; there was a chance it would make a good escape route anyway. Instead he set about the slow, uneasy business of locating the home's residents.

Clearing the main floor felt like clearing a level on one of Gaz's horror games. Slow, silent, and horrifically tense. He kept expecting those big, nasty eyes to be waiting for him around every corner. But it became apparent pretty quickly that the alien was down in the guts of his nest, not in the facade above. From his observations, paths downward were hidden everywhere; it was a matter of picking one that wouldn't get him killed.

He opted for the garbage can. The apprehension that squeezed him as its jaws opened was dizzying. If the home was enemy trenches, going down there would be their bunker. But this is what heroes did, right? They acted, even if they did it scared. So, palms sweating and limbs like jelly, he hauled himself into the can. The platform inside dropped like an amusement park ride and for a moment, Dib almost lost his dinner. He lighted safely at the end of a long tube, which opened a notched face out into a cavernous den. The blackness was stifling and his eyes needed to adjust to it, filled with foreign shapes and tangled, intestine-like ducts. It was somehow colder down here than outside, and the air carried a punctuated mix of formaldehyde and iron.

For a time, he could only stand in disoriented fear. A dark arch pronounced itself to the right on the opposite wall, and he determined that it must be the way deeper into the belly of the beast. He took the time to carefully extract and load his net gun. Brandishing it in front of him brought a welcome sense of comfort, and he hugged it close to his shoulder as he inched forward into the abyss. There were foreign noises echoing there, though not the hostile humming he had quietly expected from the base's insides. There was a distant squall that was unmistakably the small, defective robot Zim kept with him- and a much quieter voice that must have been the alien scourge himself. But why was he being so quiet in his own home?

His stomach dropped. Did Zim already know he was here? Had this been a horrible lure the whole time? The hall stretched out jagged and tubular before him, with a butchered light fluttering and dispersing from one of its offshoots. As he crept closer he could make out shadows shuffling around against the backdrop of red. Time got slow, right around then. His insides all felt sickly and cramped, and then felt like they stopped existing altogether as he threw himself from the dark safety of the hall. His half-blind shot missed and in a fraction of an instant, a viciously quick staccato snapped toward him. The spider-like legs from Zim's PAK ripped him into the air and pinned him high against the wall.

Now normally, this would have been a point of banter and bargaining. But this time was different. Dib had even opened his mouth to start his empty, on-the-spot threat when he realized that there was a very real gun pressed against his chest. The nozzle of said gun was cold and biting, its circumference easily taking up most of the width of his torso.

"YOU CHOSE THE WRONG NIGHT TO WALTZ INTO MY DEN, PUTRID MONKEY!"

Zim's words hurt his ears, but the thing that threw Dib off was the sheer, unadulterated fury booming through them. The alien's tone wasn't gloating. It wasn't proud, or smug, or even a little self-referential. It was loud and raw, and the creature raised itself to level a twisted snarl at him. Before he could respond, he was torn from his place on the wall and hung by his feet from cords that had extended from the ceiling. Red and black shapes twisted and bobbed below him- large tanks, screens, and cords, just like one would expect.

"Answer my questions or I'll disintegrate your precious thorax and feed the rest of you to your family as nutrient- rich nuggets!" The bristling alien had given him a bit of space, hanging poised a few feet away. "Tell me! How does one care for sniveling young?"

"Wh…?" Dib squinted against Zim's silhouette. His thoughts sloshed around with the blood in his head and the pounding in his chest, and he puffed out a few breaths as he struggled to piece the question together. It was the most disorienting thing the alien could have possibly said- which was impressive, given the options. Young? As in children? Oh God. "Zim you didn't really… didn't actually kidnap a baby did you?"

"I AM THE ONE ASKING QUESTIONS!"

There was a tearing sound as Zim lashed out, leaving a gash on Dib's side. He didn't feel it through the shock at first but that mercy didn't last long and a howl tore from his throat. Burning bloomed across from the spot and he fumbled to hold where he'd been hot, fingers quickly finding the runny, sticky sensation of blood.

"Okay, okay! Ah! I don't know!"

"You don't know?"

"I'm 12! Why would I know how to take care of young?"

"Pathetic, useless-" Zim's rant was snapped short by a strange warbling squeak from somewhere behind him. Even in the less-than-optimal light, Dib could see the odd way the irken's expression twisted. Antennae flat, he scurried away without a second glance at his dangling prisoner to attend to where Dib's net had been strewn limply across the floor. The spidery limbs of the PAK set him down and began picking the net apart as Zim made strange, fussy wheezes. Dib strained against the swaying view he'd been cursed with, struggling to get a grasp on what was happening.

Zim was muttering something. It took Dib a while to realize it wasn't English at all, but it sounded like quiet begging. It almost reminded him of when Gaz had been younger, and he would have to beg her not to tattle on him for- well, most things actually. Sneaking out, hogging games, snitching candy. The alien slung something over his shoulder and as the silhouette grew an extra head and tiny set of antennae, Dib's thoughts whipped off the track and promptly set about brutalizing themselves. And just like a real train wreck, he could only stare in mute horror.

Zim hadn't been talking about Earth young.

Dib must have made some kind of noise without his own knowing, because Zim bristled and snapped full attention back onto him. Sure enough, he had a tiny body cradled over his shoulder.

"YOU. You bring a weapon into Zim's lair? I'm going to turn your eyes into smidgools!"

"W-wait! Wait! I think I can help, yeah, I can totally help!"

The alien gave a low growl, but didn't interrupt him. Good. He'd taken the bait.

"There's- there's books, yeah, just loads of books about parenting and child… care." God he was dizzy. The blood pooling in his head was starting to interfere with his vision, and getting really achey besides. "Listen, let's make a deal. Cut me down and let me go, and I'll meet you at school tomorrow with supplies and books."

He watched as Zim's gaze flicked between him and the figure in his arms, brow pinched. "Why should I trust you, my nemesis? You will bring Urth authorities here, I should turn you into meal-squishings myself!"

"No! No, I swear. Look, pinky promise." Dib extended an arm how he could, though it mostly just dangled above his head.

"Pinky…?"

"It's like, Earth's most binding contract. If I break it you can eat me."

There was a long few moments of contemplation from the creature. He snarled and raised himself on his spindly robo-limbs, snapping his fingers. As he did, the cuffs on Dib's ankles were released. He dropped and landed on his neck, stunned on the cold ground for a while as aches and pains crept in everywhere.

"Gir! Escort the intruder out of our house!"

"Aww, I wanna hold the baby!"

"Now, Gir!"

There was a distorted whimper and the little tin can appeared to tug on Dib's fingers. Once he had had enough of a chance to recover, he slowly sat up and cast a look back to Zim. It… was real. Two bodies, in high, right-side-up, definition. The look earned an impatient growl.

"Get out!"

He didn't have to be told twice. He scurried for the exit, unheeding of whatever soap opera babble was coming from the robot. The path out was a straightforward blur compared to how he'd gotten in, and by the time he actually felt the rain on his skin he was halfway home. His father was waiting just inside the door, arms folded. A familiar piece of paper sat between his fingers, and Dib was all at once incredibly conscious about his disheveled, soaked entry.

"Son. Would you like to talk about this?"

"Wh- Dad, what do you mean?"

"You broke into that Zim boy's home? And you're bleeding, did you have the authorities called on you?"

So much for not telling Dad. Dib let out a soft groan of defeat. "No, I didn't- it's not- c'mon I've told you Zim is an alien and-"

"Up-bup-bup, now isn't the time. Go change out of those clothes, I'm getting the medical ray."

"But Dad-"

"And then we're going to discuss your punishment for sneaking out of this house and breaking the law."

A reluctant whimper was all Dib had to give. He crept up the stairs to discard his soaked clothes, hands shaking as horrible visions of the night paraded in his head. It was only once the medical ray was burning the cut in his side closed that he registered that he was in the bright, sterile white of the bathroom. He blinked up at the jarring absence of his father's goggles and the jagged but strangely gentle metal of his prosthetics.

"... dad?"

"It will only sting for a minute, son."

"No, that's not… um. How do you take care of a baby?"

"Well I thought we had had this discussion two months ago. You remember, how I told you about-"

"No! I didn't mean that. I don't want to hear that again." A grimace smeared itself across his face. "I mean. What do you… do? Once they're born?"

"Oh babies aren't so bad. You feed them and clean up after them. It's a lot like a pet, when you think about it. A needy, loud pet. -hm, maybe hominids and avians aren't as separate as we give them credit for. But Dib, this seems like an especially bizarre time for such questions. Is there more you aren't telling me?"

"-Nope! No, I was just- thinking! Just thinking." Dib tried a sheepish grin to hide the embarrassed blush that burned his face.

"... I see. You're trying to distract me from your punishment." His father straightened and folded the pen-sized laser with a click before storing it. "Well, that won't work tonight young man. I'm restricting your computer privileges."

A new kind of pit formed in Dib's gut. "Huh? Dad, you can't!"

"Oh, but I can! You need fresh air and less contact with the aggravating fantasies of online forums, son. No more internet for three weeks. And I want you to write an apology to Zim's family. Now shoo- school starts in three hours."

Cold metal fingers ruffled Dib's still damp hair. His father stood and bowed to let him leave first. Dib watched him, crestfallen, before slumping his shoulders and creeping back upstairs to his room. The window had already been shut, the ladder supposedly confiscated, and Dib sagged once his body met the comfort of his bed. Rain pattered against his window, and light from the street- a gentle grey, not a harsh red- threw stripes across the opposite side of his room. Despite the flashy cacophony of thoughts rattling through his head, the physical exhaustion was quick to lull him into an uneasy sleep.

Quick author's note:

This is mostly self therapy, but I'm flattered you stuck around to the end. So… thank you. No guarantees about where this will go, but I hope you have a good day anyway.