Your Eyes are Red

by Pay-no-mind-totheinsanity

Dib shows up to school feeling pretty shitty after a long, seemingly fruitless night of exploration in an abandoned asylum. Zim, who would normally enjoy nothing more than to bask in the anguish of his enemy, becomes determined to figure out what's going on with his arch-nemesis...and why he smells so weird. (have fun with this slow burn between two idiots)

21. Chapter 21: - -

Chapter 21:

... .- ..-. .

[Zim]

| WARNING: Organic composition has been compromised |

...

RUNNING DIAGNOSTICS

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STATUS: Foreign material targeted for removal ||| Biometric scan required |||

Remain stationary until scan is complete

…

LIFE SUPPORT: OPERATING

CHARGING CELL: 92%

MEMORY: OPERATING

COMMUNICATIONS: OPERATING

MACHINERY: OPERATING

MUNITIONS: INACTIVE

...

SYSTEM CHECK COMPLETE

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STATUS REPORT: THREAT DETAINED

CURRENT FUNCTIONS: 96%

UNLOCKING HOLD

SYSTEM PARTITION BEING RESTORED TO INITIAL STATUS

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REROUTING PRIMARY CONTROLS TO HOST

...

...

...

SYSTEM ONLINE.

The jolt zips through my body as all of my functions are returned to me at once. Sensation flickers back to my organic brain, delivering images in rapid succession. My PAK whirs along my spine, heating with effort as the last of the poison is filtered from my blood.

I blink until the visual processors click into place. The overlapping feedback is instantaneous, and I become aware of too many things: shackles on my wrists, light and thin, holding my arms over my head; cold stone underneath the awkward bend of my legs; yellow lights protruding from the walls, making shadows of objects and equipment stacked in various corners; the echo of acid inside of me, stinging in bitter defeat as my systems draw it out.

And, of course, pain.

I glance up where my arms are restrained, wrists folded over, claws stiff and buzzing. It hurts to move. My neck aches –

"You caused quite the scene out there."

My antennae stand straight, vibrating at the frequency of an unfamiliar voice. I snap my head to the right and the force of it sends a wave of bright pain down my spine - but the neural feedback is quickly disrupted by the sight of the Irken standing six feet away, leaning against the edge of a long table. The dark cloak conceals her frame; a stark contrast to the mint skin and purple eyes. Her antennae are tilted back, with one bent at a crude angle. Thin pink scars trail from her jaw to her neck, vanishing beneath the bunched fabric of the lowered hood.

I blink and wonder if there was an error when my systems rebooted. Perhaps the poison has long-lasting effects or my PAK failed to properly dispose of the waste - yes, that must be it.

She pushes off the table and stalks closer, eyes glinting in the dim amber glow as she reaches for the other end of my restraints and tugs sharply, dragging my body up on aching legs until I'm more or less standing at eye level.

"Are your processors functional," she sneers, "or did you get stupider since I saw you last?"

She watches me expectantly, her uninjured antenna flicking at the air while the other remains stiff and curled. Confusion disrupts every attempt at constructing a complete thought until I'm left with nothing but the fuzzy heat on my tongue as the words drunkenly fall from my mouth.

"You're…Irken."

My ingenious assessment draws her expression to a befuddled pinch.

"What? Of course I'm - what're you…" She blinks before her purple eyes snap to angry slits. "You don't remember me, do you?"

I search her face for a moment, but my addled brain matter comes up empty. "I believe remembering someone requires meeting them at some point."

Her lip raises over gleaming teeth; a palpable rage.

"We have met, you disgraceful worm!" she snaps. "On Earth! It was horrible and filled with putrid meat !"

I squint. "...You're going to have to be more specific."

"You launched me into space , Zim!"

"Eh," I attempt to shrug, "if you say so–"

Her palm whips across my face with a sharp slap! My neck stings, antennae pinning flat against my skull.

"Tak!" she shouts, stepping closer, eyes flashing. "My name is Tak !"

I spit out the blood slowly trickling from somewhere in my mouth and stare with disinterest as she seethes.

"You know what?" she hisses, stepping back. "It doesn't matter - just tell me what you're doing here."

I glance up at the chains before glaring back at her. "Well, it wasn't exactly my choice ."

"I meant, what are you doing on this planet , Zim?"

"Things that are of no concern to you," I snap. "Now, release Zim - I'm very busy."

"Yes." Her eyes darken, and she tilts her head. "You and the human did seem rather… preoccupied when I cornered you."

My skin bristles. "I trust you're not stupid enough to have harmed him."

She scoffs. "You're not even going to thank me for saving your worthless life, are you?"

" Saving me?" I sputter. "You poisoned me!"

"The filthy human was attached to your neck." She approaches and lifts her hand to graze my throat, claws drifting over the puncture wounds. "I had to shoot him three times before he let you go."

"Oh. He wasn't going to kill me. He was…" Heat blooms, uncomfortable and sticky beneath my skin. I hesitate, but there's no way to adequately explain the situation. I avert my gaze. "He just does that sometimes."

"It seemed like retaliation," she presses, unamused, "for stabbing him in the market."

"It was…related to that, yes," I mutter. "But I wouldn't call it retaliation."

"Well then," she sneers, "my apologies for interrupting ." She takes a step back and unzips the collar of her cloak, removing the thick fabric from her frame and tossing it in a heap on the table. "The human is restrained and unharmed…for now. If you'd like to keep it that way, I suggest you start talking."

The last few words hardly register as I stare at the sharp angles of her shoulder blades and spine beneath her black bodysuit. There's no PAK.

She has no PAK.

My voice sticks in my throat. Eyes pinching in confusion, I scour her frame over and over, as if the glowing metal dome will simply appear if I look long enough.

She glances over her shoulder and arches a brow. "What are you doing?"

"Your PAK," I stammer. "It's not… You-you don't have one."

A thin smirk tugs the edge of her mouth. "How observant of you."

She turns to face me, scanning my bewildered expression with faint intrigue, as if I'm the abnormality here.

"W-where is it?" I ask.

"In pieces, probably." Her tone lacks the urgency I find myself desperately expecting - needing - to hear. "I was not conscious for the aftermath, but I assume they disassembled the computer upon removal."

My body is cold. Images flash within my circuitry; memories and nightmares, intertwined. The ports binding the artificial brain to my spinal column prickle and burn at the thought of being removed - a phantom pain where metal meets flesh, a peeling scab I can't reach.

"But that kills us," I whisper. "That's how we die."

Her eyes glint, and the cold sinks further into my organs. "Is it?"

Of course, stupid - the words hang on the tip of my tongue, weightless in the glaring evidence of the contrary. My circuits burn with the need to argue, as if her mere existence isn't enough to disprove what we were raised to believe. To fear.

I clench my fists and pull at my restraints. "How are you alive?"

Her lips press thin and taut. Her expression grows dark. "Someone took pity on me." The word is layered in disgust and shame, as if pity was worse than the death sentence. She looks away, scanning the dirty stone beneath us. "I suppose some would call it luck to survive such a thing."

"...What did you do?" My mind is filled with questions, mired with fear. "Deactivation is a punishment reserved for–"

"For whoever they please," she spits, fists clenching at her sides. A shaky breath slips from her teeth. Her antennae twitch and she lowers her voice. "...I made a mistake," she mutters. " One mistake. Apparently, that was all our glorious leaders needed to justify their cruelty. Or maybe they were bored." She scoffs, but it's pained. "The motivation for their actions has always been interchangeable between malice and incompetence. Who knows, really."

For a moment, all I can do is stare. I make several attempts to fight the admission, but the words burrow up my throat, spurred by fear.

"But I've… I've made mistakes." Every syllable is barbed with shame. "They never–"

"Yes, Zim," she hisses, stepping toward me. "You have made mistakes - hundreds, even. And what did they do?" She closes the gap between us and grabs the restraints with a harsh jerk. "They sent you away to a new planet with all of your gear, your weapons, your SIR Unit, your ship - and then they left you alone . They gave you years of merciful solitude with no repercussions. You even found a new pet." Her eyes darken. One hand drifts down the restraints and moves over my shoulder; a single claw taps the edge of my PAK. "How nice to see this has all worked out for you."

My vitals quicken. I strain my neck, pulling uselessly at the chains as I try to escape her touch, but she merely tightens her grip and forces me against the wall. None of my internal defense commands are working - beyond the basic biological support systems, my PAK is unresponsive.

"What did you do to me?" I hiss.

"Surely you don't believe I'm stupid enough to take you captive without disabling your weapons." Her claw scrapes along the metal, sending nauseating shivers through my core. She tilts her head and grins. "Do you think you'd survive, Zim?"

Every fiber of my body is rigid with vicious, paralyzing fear. I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut as she drags her talons to the dip where machine meets flesh.

" Don't ," I growl, tensing in what little space is left. "Don't you dare –"

"Come on, Zim." She presses against the sensitive skin and my body betrays me with a panicked yelp. "Aren't you curious to find out? To know what it feels like when you–"

A loud bang startles us both. Her head snaps up toward the door across the room. My pulse leaps into my skull and a delirious flood of adrenaline spills down my spine.

"Speaking of curiosity," I chime, "how did you restrain him, exactly?"

She glares back at me, baring teeth. "What kind of question is that?"

"Hopefully you used something better than these." I grin and shake my wrists, clinking the metal shackles. "For your sake."

Her eyes narrow and she grabs the collar of my tunic, shoving me against the wall and knocking the breath from my lungs. "What are you–"

BANG!

The door is torn clean off its hinges as it smashes against the adjacent wall. Dib stumbles after it, carried by the unnatural momentum until he hits the ground on his hands and knees. My eyes snap wide at the sight of him; knuckles bruised and split where he beat them against the metal, wrists slick with blood, clothes caked in dried gore and pink splotches. When he lifts his head, his wild red eyes fall on mine; the bright, animalistic glow in stark contrast to his pale skin and dark, disheveled hair.

Something in my chest twists.

"Was that necessary?" Confusion and rage contort Tak's expression as she turns around. "It's a door - you could've just opened it."

Clearly ignorant of the danger, she's stupid enough to keep her hands clenched around my uniform. Dib looks at her, and then at me - beaten and bleeding and chained - and I watch his pupils turn to pinpricks in the white of his eyes.

"I'd suggest you run, but..." A manic grin pulls my lips over my teeth. "I don't think you'll get very far."

She barely has time to scowl at me before Dib lunges. In a single, fluid motion, he yanks her off of me and slams her body into the table. She thrashes and shouts, swiping her claws at him in sheer desperation, but he pins her down as if she weighs nothing at all.

"Get off of me!" she screams. "Zim! Zim, make him–"

His fist whips across her face with a sickening snap . I lean forward against my restraints, stretching my neck to watch as a spray of pink blood shoots along the surface of the table. She curses and tries to kick him away, but he hits her again–

And again–

And again –

The fifth punch takes her out. Her body goes limp, blood oozing from her mouth and the welts rapidly forming beneath her eye. He raises his fist for another strike, knuckles smeared with blood, and I realize I should probably intervene before he kills her.

"Okay, Dib," I snap, jerking the shackles. "Enough with the monkey nonsense - get over here and release me!"

He freezes mid-punch and whirls around to face me. That thing in my chest pulls taut at the look in his eyes, frenzied and untamed, blood splattered across his torso and neck like bright paint. The marks on my throat begin to burn and I clench my jaw against the strange heat.

"Are you okay?" He stumbles toward me, panic thick in his voice - but instead of reaching for the shackles, he cups my face between his palms. The words stick to the roof of my mouth. My skin buzzes as the warmth seeps down my limbs.

"Zim is fine." I quickly look away. "We were merely talking."

"You're bleeding." He tilts my jaw to the side as his thumb grazes the welt on my cheek. "I heard you yell–"

"I'm fine !" I hiss, wrenching from his grip. "Just get these things off of me!"

His eyes catch something in the air around my frame and I scowl. Real or imagined, I despise this new ability of his. He doesn't seem too pleased with whatever it shows him. His lips tug into a frown, and he quickly reaches over my shoulder to press his fingers against my PAK. I flinch.

"It's not broken, is it?"

The irritation is promptly dissolved by the shock. I stare at him as a new category of panic washes over my system. He withdraws his hand and steps back to search the empty space again, and a lump rapidly forms in my throat. I try to follow his gaze, but nothing's there. Nothing is ever there.

Dread pools in my gut. The discomfort reaches its zenith when his eyes widen in some unspoken realization.

"Wait." He turns on his heels. "That's Tak ?"

My organs twist into a thousand knots, and the ripple effect scatters every thought in my head. He wasn't lying. He can see them - he can see them –

I yank at the chains and jam my knee into his stomach. "Release me!"

He grunts and doubles over, glaring hard as I bare my teeth and hiss. "Now, Dib!"

"Okay, okay!" he shouts. "I'm trying - stop kicking me!"

But I don't stop. I can't. My body thrashes against the chains, panic spilling cold and hot all over as my organic matter struggles to comprehend a reality in which my own thoughts are no longer safe, where my walls have been compromised and I'm left defenseless as all of my inner things leak from my skull.

How much can he see? How accurate is this power? Is it constant? Can he peel through my layers with one simple look, dissecting me like some pathetic specimen?

My PAK burns along my spine. My vision distorts under the heat. The room is too small, and it's filled with shadows that threaten both my organic and mechanical composition. Memories overlap - public executions; the dead eyes of those whose ports were torn from their vertebrae like wet noodles; the sharp point of Tak's claws pressing between my flesh, just as that horrid beast had done in the cave when the coils popped and sparks burst from my circuits – and now there's Dib , disassembling my brain within seconds and rifling through the only parts of me that have ever been truly mine , and I can't fight it, I can't stop it, I can't even understand it –

The shackles snap from my wrists like toothpicks, and the pieces clatter to the floor. My knees instantly buckle under the weight. He grabs my shoulders to steady me, his touch like molten steel.

"Can you stand?" he asks. The concern in his voice only makes the heat worse. I feel infected - sick and septic and sticky, like my flesh isn't mine. I scowl and push him away, stumbling back and bracing myself against the wall.

"Don't touch me," I bite. He flinches as if I've struck him - if he wasn't lying about the static being more than a visual phenomenon, maybe I did. And if I knew how to do it again, I would.

He takes a small step toward me. "But you're–"

"Stop talking and stay over there , Dib!"

His mouth clamps shut and he staggers back like I just pushed him - except I didn't. We stare at one another in shared confusion, and he looks down at his body with an expression of betrayal.

My brow pinches. "Was that–"

Tak starts coughing. My attention snaps to her as she slides off the table and manages to stand on shaking legs. Her chest heaves, blood steadily dripping from her split lip as a dark welt continues to swell beneath her eye. She glares at Dib and flexes her claws.

"I should've known you'd get someone else to fight your battles." Wiping the gore from her mouth, she flashes a dangerous, pink-tinged grin and laughs. "Look at you, hiding behind your pet. Did I scare you that bad, Zim?"

She takes the smallest step toward me - another mistake. Dib's eyes sharpen, and as he blocks her path, he makes a sound I've never heard before. I don't know if it's a growl or a snarl, or if it's even truly audible, but the air in the room suddenly shifts with something invisible and violent, and the sensory fibers along my antennae stand on edge. I resist the urge to move away despite the barrage of warnings flashing through my code.

"At least one of you grew a spine," Tak mutters. The tension in her frame is unmistakable. Her gaze darkens as she glances between us, confidence waning. "But I have no interest in your slave, Zim. Call him off, and we'll get back to our…conversation."

"Conversation?" I sneer. "I don't believe you threatening to deactivate me counts as conversation ."

Whatever's going on with Dib only intensifies at the mention of her threats. I don't know how much he saw within my thoughts, or if he can see them still, but the rage is palpable; the bitter taste thick on my tongue.

My pulse races. I stare at him, but he keeps his eyes locked on her, waiting for…what?

An order?

…Interesting.

I hesitate and scan the room as my thoughts regain their familiar composure. It's rather bare, but surely there are more. She must have some kind of equipment - connections, technology, information. However long she's been living here, she's been successful enough to survive without her PAK, which means, at the very least, she knows someone who has the resources for medical and cybernetic intervention.

Yes…this could work.

"Zim," she presses, anxiety rising. "Call him off ."

"I'll consider it…" I step closer to Dib and cross my arms. "Under certain conditions."

" Conditions ?" She spits a wad of blood on the floor. "I'm not making any deals with you , Zim."

I give her a moment to correct herself, but she doesn't take the hint.

"Dib." He glances at me; the dangerous look in his eyes sends burning shrapnel through my core. "I think our host needs a change in perspective."

"The ground or the wall?" His voice is darker - rougher. I shrug off the sudden thrill.

"The ground is fine."

Tak snarls and grips the edge of the table behind her as he moves in. "What're you– hey!"

Dib blocks the swipe of her claws with surprising speed. She curses, snapping her teeth as he wrestles her to the floor in front of me, pinning her on her stomach and ramming his knee between her shoulder blades.

"You wretched, defective little imp !" Blood bubbles from her mouth, dribbling down her chin and staining the gritty stone below.

"Where's her PAK?" Dib asks, tilting his head.

I wave him off. "She lost it or something stupid - I didn't bother listening."

Tak's eyes are glowing with rage. She squirms beneath the weight of Dib's body, clearly distressed by his strength.

"Let me up!" she hisses. "I will gut you both, I swear–"

I squat down and grab her by the chin, squeezing the bone until pain creases the space between her eyes.

"Are your processors functional?" I taunt. "Or do you need another reminder that you're not in charge?"

She grits her teeth and curses sharply in Irken. The combination of insults is quite creative. I release her face and dig the folded note from my uniform. "Have you seen this insignia before?"

For a moment, her gaze widens with unmistakable fear - and then she starts to laugh. "Y-you've really done it now, haven't you?"

Dib's brow furrows. "You recognize it?"

"Of course I do." She glares up in defiance and twisted glee. "There's not a soul in this galaxy that could help you poor fools–"

Dib slams her face into the stone. She cries out, blood gushing from her mouth as he yanks her back by her neck and leans in close.

"You're gonna do whatever Zim tells you to do," he snarls. "Or I'll fucking kill you."

She gasps for air as he relaxes his grip. Her eyes focus on the sharp glint of his teeth, and her body grows still beneath his.

He is far more useful like this.

"You and I will discuss it later." I fold the note and tuck it back into the fabric. "In the meantime, we need supplies, and you will allow us to stay here for the remainder of our visit. I trust your dwelling has actual rooms beyond this atrocious display–"

"What?" she sputters. "You are not staying here–"

"If you refuse us," I sneer, "I'll let him eat you, and we'll stay here anyway."

Her gaze flits to his teeth again, and she scowls as her antennae lower in the slightest admission of defeat.

" Fine ," she snarls. "Hurry up - tell me what you want and get your filthy beast off of me."

Dib's nose crinkles. "Can you both stop calling me that–"

"Dib, don't interrupt," I hiss. We glare at one another before he frowns begrudgingly. Tak spits out another wad of blood.

"Tell me what you want , Zim."

I clear my throat and switch to Irken. " Does your base contain medical equipment ?"

She blinks between me and Dib before cautiously answering in our native tongue. " What kind ?"

" Surgical. "

She pauses. " Is this for you or him ?"

Dib watches me, clearly put off by the language barrier. I ignore his silent questions. " Him. "

She clicks her tongue. " If humans are as primitive as I remember, it should not be an issue finding whatever you need ."

"Are you guys talking about me?" he asks, annoyed.

I shush him and continue. " I can pay for any additional supplies, but you'll need to retrieve them. "

" Yes, " she drones, rolling her eyes. " I saw your failed attempts in the market. "

"This is super annoying, you know," Dib mutters.

"Shut up , Dib–"

" Why are you hiding this from him? " she asks, pinching her brow.

" Because he's stupid ." I stand on aching legs and stretch my back. "I assume you have a charging station?" I ask in the human's language.

She frowns and follows suit. "Obviously."

"I'll retrieve the Voot, then. We'll discuss the details of your servitude when I return."

"You're leaving me here?" she asks, panicked. "With him?"

"You're leaving me with her ?" Dib echoes.

I raise my arms in exasperation. "Well, I can't exactly leave either of you alone, now can I?"

Dib sits up, keeping his knee on her back. "Zim, you can't–"

"It won't take long." I step around her prone form and swipe the discarded cloak from the table.

Ugh, of course he got her blood all over it.

"You can let her up when I leave - if she does anything stupid, chain her to the wall - or punch her again. I don't really care."

"But I–"

"This is not up for debate, Dib," I snip, pointing a claw at him. "Don't make me puncture another one of your stupid vital organs."

His lip curls as Tak starts to thrash beneath him.

"I will not be held hostage in my own home!" she shrieks.

"You should have minded your business if you didn't want trouble," I sneer. She glares daggers at me as I fasten the cloak around my shoulders and move toward the broken door frame. "Have fun, Dib!"

The barrage of insults quickly changes targets as I exit the room. At the very least, by the time I return, they'll have worn each other out with pointless bickering. Or he'll have eaten her, and we can steal all her stuff.

It's a win either way.

.

.

.

[Dib]

I am not , in fact, having fun. The second Zim leaves, Tak loses her shit.

"Hey," I snap, "knock it off–"

"I will dissect you in your sleep, you wretched ape!" She snarls and writhes against my grip. "Let me go - I will end you –"

I brace my forearm across her shoulder blades and slide my other arm around her neck, squeezing until she gets the fucking hint.

"Yeah, that's not how you convince someone to do something for you," I mutter. Her movements weaken, and I slowly let up on the pressure. She curses between ragged gasps for air, her glowing eyes boring through mine with disdain.

I sigh. "Just for the record, I had no idea Zim was gonna ask if we could stay here."

"He didn't ask ," she hisses.

"Sure, but I'm just saying, if I had known that, I might not have punched you as hard as I did–"

"How kind of you–"

"–because this is awkward now."

Her antennae twitch and she sneers. "And it'd be less awkward if you punched me nicer?"

I purse my lips and shrug. "Maybe?"

She growls something in Irken, but the insult is cut short by a string of wet, bloody coughs. I wince as she spits up globs of pink.

"Is there, uh, something I can do to help?" The question sounds as stupid as it feels, and the pinch of her expression only solidifies the thought.

Oh, I'm for sure getting dissected in my sleep.

I clear my throat. "Do you have medicine or something?"

"You're an idiot," she scowls.

"So I've been told," I mutter. She falls into another coughing fit strong enough to rattle my bones as I pin her to the floor. "Well, let me know if you change your mind - unless you just wanna lie here and spit up blood for the next hour."

Her shoulders quake as she heaves another mouthful of gore from her chest. Panting and strained, she finally looks at me and frowns.

"...Fine," she rasps. "My lab is upstairs."

I scan the room and spot the broken shackles by the wall. "Okay - come on, then."

She yelps as I grab her wrists and pull her off the floor. Dragging her along with me, I swipe the discarded chains and wind them around her arms, pinning them behind her back.

"Is this necessary?" she growls. "You've already injured me."

"Yeah, but you could be faking it." I give the metal tangle a sharp tug. "Can you walk or should I carry you–"

"Absolutely not," she spits, jerking away. Her legs wobble as she awkwardly moves toward the door - or, where the door used to be, anyway.

I follow on her heels, keeping one hand locked tight around the chains. We head up a rickety, winding staircase to the next floor. I catch glimpses of doorways to additional rooms and another staircase at the far end of the corridor. High above, light streams through windows of frosted glass and rusty panes, reflecting off the dust particles floating through the air. The low hum of an engine rumbles behind the walls and beneath the floor - a constant vibration I can feel through the soles of my boots.

She tugs me down a narrow hallway. The air is thick with the smell of metal, sparks, and something sweet; like vanilla beans with undertones of lavender and mint. I scan the glowing vents lining the bottom of the scuffed walls, emitting some sort of orange vapor.

"Open the door."

I snap back into focus and shuffle around her, keeping one hand on her chains while I fumble with the weird, spiraled handle.

She watches for a moment. "In, down, to the left," she mutters.

"Oh." I follow her instructions and the door unlocks with a hiss of steam. "Thanks."

She shoves past me as the door slides into the wall and clicks into place. Automated lights flicker to life, bathing the room in soft light. Dozens of computers and monitors line the wall to the right. Thick coils twist from the machines, disappearing behind panels along the wall, beeping and humming and flashing with tiny green sensors. Glass tubes stretch across the ceiling, transporting various colored gasses and fluid from one end to the other. I stare at the bubbles whisking through the blue one overhead.

"Stop gawking," she snips. "The medical bay is on this side."

I stumble as she jerks her body to the left. We move down three grated steps to the lower lab, filled with a litany of weird, robotic structures and stacks of labeled crates. More sensors line the wall, measuring dozens of unreadable percentages for things I don't understand, recalibrating in rhythmic chirps as the fluid levels fluctuate in the glass. There's an operating table to the right beside a workbench that somewhat resembles the setup in Zim's base, except it's older, and the tech isn't as sleek.

"Up there, fourth row." She nods towards the large shelf, stuffed to the brim with rows of vials, sealed packages, and discolored bottles. "The pink one."

I squint at the tapered glass. "That's definitely green."

"Whatever."

I shrug and stretch on the tips of my boots to reach the vial. It's hot to the touch, and the liquid sloshes like thick tar, releasing vapor as it moves. I set it on the table and carefully unwind one of her arms from the tangle of chains. She mutters to herself - probably cursing me out for the millionth time - and swipes the bottle.

I steal more glances around the room as she drinks…whatever the fuck that is. Despite how unorganized and cluttered everything is, it's far cozier than the cold, sterile walls and abnormal amounts of negative space in Zim's lab. The darker colors, the soft lighting, the older, clunkier tech and the general mess of discarded parts remind me of the countless sci-fi movies and comics I've devoured over the years. There's a familiar comfort in the clutter and the rust.

I spot the second workbench in the far corner, tucked away in the shadows and obscured by more piles of tools and scraps. The markings on the stack of papers don't resemble any Irken symbols I've ever seen - they're too squiggly.

"Do you live alone?" I ask.

She downs the rest of the goop and wipes her mouth, side-eyeing me. "Yes."

I glance back at the workstation. "Have you always lived alone?"

"Yes." She sets the empty bottle on the table. I motion for her free hand and she glowers. "If you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly a threat to you in this state."

I ignore her and grab her wrist. She hisses under her breath as I finagle the chains around both arms again.

"Anything else you want to lie to me about?" I ask, tightening the restraints.

She grimaces and shoots me a glare. "What?"

" That workstation looks nothing like yours," I press. "The notes aren't in Irken, either."

She averts her gaze. My lip curls and I push her against the edge of the table. "I need to know if someone else is here, Tak."

Her expression twists with pain and she hisses. "You wretched creature, no one else is here ."

I search her gaze until the rage in her eyes falters, and beneath it lies a distant ache that makes me feel as if I've seen something I'm not supposed to. I pull away and clear my throat.

"Okay, but if you're lying, I'll–"

"Threaten me with violence - yes, yes, whatever," she grumbles. "Can I sit down, or will you find that suspicious too?"

I roll my eyes and gesture to the floor. After a moment of awkward twisting, she manages to sit cross-legged with her back pressed against the leg of the table. A heavy sigh escapes her, riddled with tight wheezes and a concerning grinding noise. I lean against the table and watch the blood slowly ooze from a particularly nasty welt below her left eye. My knuckles tingle in the echo of the memory, but it's fuzzy. How many times did I hit her?

I tap my fingers along the cold surface of the table. "So how long does that stuff take to kick in?"

She glares up at me in disdain. "That was for the concussion…and whatever internal bleeding you likely caused."

"Oh." I can't decide if I feel bad or not, but her face looks pretty gruesome. "Do you have anything for uh…" I gesture vaguely to the welts. "For that?"

I didn't know it was possible for someone to channel so much hatred with a single look - she might even have Gaz beat when it comes to death glares.

"There's healing ointment in that drawer," she says, low. "White tube."

I reach over to the other side of the counter and rifle through the contents until I spot said tube. Kneeling in front of her, I uncap the medicine, squeeze the thick, translucent salve onto the pad of my index finger, and lean in.

She scowls. "I'd prefer if you didn't touch me–"

"Yeah, I don't really care."

She jerks her head to the side and hisses as I smear the glob over the welt on her cheekbone. The reaction is surprisingly quick. As the swelling recedes, the broken skin begins to smooth over. She tenses against her restraints but otherwise stops complaining. Her blood mixes with the ointment; the scent is sweet, but with a little more spice than Zim's. I stare at the pink droplets and shake my head.

Focus .

I grab her chin and tilt her face up to address the split along her lower lip. A low rumble moves through her chest, her eyes narrowed in ire.

"Don't bite me," I warn. "I'm almost done."

"Your eyes are changing," she growls. "Should I be concerned?"

"No." I clench my jaw and carefully dab the ointment over her lip, smearing the pink. "I'm fine."

She's quiet for a moment. I take slow, measured breaths and finish covering the wound.

"There, all done."

I cap the tube and set it aside, wiping my hands along my jeans as I settle my back against the counter and draw my knees to my chest. Her expression is pinched with concern and irritation.

"What happened to you?" she asks. "I don't recall humans possessing any of your behaviors…other than the stupidity, of course."

"I got bit by some alien parasite." I fold my arms over my knees. "Zim said I should be done mutating…for whatever that's worth."

She hums with genuine intrigue. "Does that have anything to do with you biting him in the alleyway?"

"Yeah." Discomfort twists through my gut, mired in shame. "I drink blood now - my life is weird."

She presses against the table leg as if that extra inch of space will make a difference. "I see."

"So," I continue, eager to change the subject so she'll stop looking at me like I'm some kind of animal, "what happened to your PAK? I assume you didn't actually lose it."

Her eyes shift and she looks away. "I have no interest in discussing that - or anything else - with you."

"That's fair," I nod. "I'm gonna keep talking, though."

She scowls, antennae twitching. "I'm surprised Zim has not removed your tongue yet. Most slaves know better than to speak."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" I frown. "I'm not his slave."

"Then why are you taking orders from him?" she sneers.

"They're not orders ," I mutter. "We're…working together." A thin sigh escapes me and I cross my legs. "He's helping me get my sister back."

She pauses for a moment and lifts her head. "...Your sister?"

"Yeah." I look for patterns on the floor to distract myself, but there aren't any. "Someone took her and left that note Zim showed you earlier."

Another pause. The color in her eyes deepens, glinting with that strange ache I saw earlier. "So he wants one of you, then."

My brow furrows and I sit up. "What does that mean?"

"It means you're very unfortunate." She tucks her knees to her chest and looks away. "He's a geneticist for the Empire - and one of their hunting dogs, when it benefits him."

"But I don't…" Dread spills through my veins, cold and quick. "Why is he targeting us?"

She shrugs. "How should I know? Ask Zim - with his track record, I'm sure he's to blame."

"I did ask him," I press. "He said he didn't know."

"He's probably lying." She pauses and glances at me. A thin sneer tugs her lips. "...Did he tell you he plans to cut you open?"

The ice spreads in my chest and I shoot her a questioning look.

"Oh, he didn't, did he?" Her grin widens as she leans forward. "I wonder why he'd want to keep that from you."

"What're you talking about?" I snap. "He's not - why would he–"

"He asked me about surgical equipment before he left." She tilts her head, eyes gleaming. "I thought it was curious of him to speak in our native tongue in your presence - seems like an odd thing to hide from someone you're supposedly helping."

I swallow hard, but the fear only covers more ground, soaking through my nerves like rain. My thoughts race. It doesn't make any sense - what would he need surgical equipment for? I glance down at my torso and run my fingers along my stomach, but there's no pain. The stab wound from earlier regenerated completely after I woke up. There's nothing to fix. So why–

Stop . I clench my jaw. There's no point in freaking out - she could be lying, for all you know .

But then…why did he switch languages? They were speaking English the whole time - what reason did he have to talk to her in Irken, and then change back two minutes later?

Her clipped laughter snaps me from my trance. "Seems like Zim has some explaining to do, hm?"

I glare at her smug expression, and she grins. Anger flares through my chest. "We're done talking."

She scoffs, looking pleased with herself. "Thought so."

The rest of the time passes in tense silence. Her medicine kicks in at some point, and her eyes grow lidded and heavy while her wounds slowly vanish, and her breath stops sounding like a garbage disposal. I pretend I'm focusing on standing guard as my mind collapses in on itself like a dying star. No matter how hard I think back, I can't remember any reason Zim would have to suggest surgery of any kind. We were in the Voot for six fucking days - surely he would have mentioned it?

She's probably lying . I repeat the notion to myself over and over, but it does little to assuage the mounting fear. Between that and the note, I feel like I'm drowning in the torrent of some impending doom.

I'm lost in the whirlwind when the lab suddenly begins to rumble. Sensors beep along the wall, chirping in high pitches that ring in my ears.

Tak blinks from her stupor and glares at the ceiling.

"He's here," she grumbles. "You'll need to push that button on the second mount - the pink one."

I scramble to my feet and search for the controls, squinting as I spot the row of flickering lights. "That's green ," I snap. "Are you fucking colorblind or something?"

Her face contorts in a scowl, but the following insults are cut off as I smash my fist on the button and the rumbling intensifies. Something opens up on the other side of the wall and the familiar sound of the Voot's engine fills the air. Once the frequencies have settled into a low thrum, a panel in the wall pops open, folding inside of itself as it slides apart. I skirt around the medical table, not bothering to help Tak as she struggles to stand with her arms still locked behind her back.

The attached room isn't much larger than the lab itself, and it's surprisingly barren save for the familiar shape of Tak's old ship parked in the back corner. The ceiling closes in jagged edges high above, blocking out the hazy orange of the sky. With a spit of steam, the hatch lowers, and Zim stumbles out of the Voot. His face is littered with tiny scratches, and a swath of thin, black feathers stick to his cloak. He curses under his breath and swats at his shoulders as he descends the ramp.

"The fuck happened to you?" I ask, unable to conceal the agitation from my voice. He scowls at me.

"You left the Voot open and a bunch of horrid creatures got inside!" he snaps. "You could have at least locked it before breaking the only rule I gave you–"

"Locked it?" I set a hand on my hip and glare. "How the fuck was I supposed to lock it, Zim?"

"With the key , you idiot–"

"The key that's in your PAK? Or maybe one of the million buttons you didn't show me how to use?"

He stops in his tracks and closes his mouth begrudgingly as the rage in his eyes shifts from a boil to a simmer. He frowns and looks away.

"No matter - luckily for you, the forest beasts did minimal damage." He pushes out a sigh and plucks a few more feathers from the fabric. "Tak will be able to assist in the required maintenance–"

"Funny how you keep adding to the list of things you expect from me." Tak leans against the edge of the table, glaring daggers at us both.

Zim eyes her up and down before pursing his lips at me. "Why does she look less disgusting?" His gaze narrows. "Did you provide medical assistance to our hostage, Dib?"

"Yeah, I did." I cross my arms. "Was I not supposed to?"

His expression turns suspicious. He glances between us, hesitating at the edge in my tone.

"Because if I wasn't, you should have told me." I lean in a little, scowling. "It's important to tell each other things, Zim."

There's a small wisp of static around his shoulders, but it vanishes too fast for me to catch any details. His antennae twitches and he clears his throat.

"You can untie her now - I'll need her assistance with the charging ports."

I glare at him for a moment longer before stepping toward Tak and unwinding the chains. She holds still, and they have some kind of freaky staring match while I work on the restraints.

"I trust you understand the arrangement now, Tak," he says snidely.

The chains drop to the floor. She stretches her arms, flexing her wrists as the circulation returns.

"Of course." Her smile is scary. Despite the initial urge to create distance between us, I pause when I catch Zim's unsettled expression. I decide to play into it, and his eyes narrow as I stand a little closer to her.

"You know," I continue casually, "I could help too if you ever bothered teaching me."

The static flickers - but again, it's too fast, like he's smothering it. "If I have to teach you something, then it's not help , Dib. It's just work."

"That's how learning works," I scoff. "And then I can actually be of use down the road–"

"Tak!" he interrupts as he stalks to the side of the Voot. "Where is your plug thingy?"

"Or you can just keep ignoring me," I mutter. Tak hisses something under her breath and shoves past me, following Zim into the hangar. He starts arguing with her in Irken. My skin prickles. I trail after them and watch as a large coil unfurls from the base of the Voot, but the curiosity is muted by the heated irritation. As they connect the ship's power source to a large, glowing orb on the side of the wall, Zim continues berating her in hushed tones. She shrugs him off, looking bored with his antics, and then she glances at me. Zim's gaze follows, his lips pressing into a deep frown.

"You don't need to be in here, Dib."

"Why's that?" I lean against the side of the Voot. "I'm just watching - it's not like I'm in the way."

"You're always in the way," he mutters. "It's one of your defining characteristics, stink-meat. Now, go snoop somewhere else - I'm sure Tak has rooms full of garbage to occupy your tiny brain."

I shrug. "Maybe later."

The static filters in and out, spiking as his anger and suspicion rise. He's doing a frustratingly good job at stifling the emotions before I can pick them apart, and all it does is make me angrier. He is hiding something.

We glare at one another, tension seeping into the air. Tak ignores us and continues working until a loud chime plays overhead.

"Your system is out of date," she grumbles, opening one of the control panels on the wall.

Zim breaks eye contact to scowl at her. "Out of date? Impossible - nothing Zim owns is out of date–"

"You've spent years living on a dirtball clear across the galaxy, Zim," she snaps. Her talons make quick work of the code she's inputting. "I'm sure everything you own is out of date. Do you honestly think the latest software even reaches that filthy planet?"

Between my newly adopted attitude and Tak's general…well, Tak , Zim seems pretty pissed off.

"Fine," he spits. "Fine - update it, then!"

"I already did." She rolls her eyes and slaps the control panel shut. A rhythmic chirping follows, like finely-tuned strings being plucked behind the walls. The Voot's interior flashes with blue lights and an overlap of robotic messages fills the air.

INSTALLATION COMPLETE–

INITIATING SYSTEM SCAN–

INCOMING TRANSMISSION–

INCOMING TRANSMISSION–

INCOMING TRANSMISSION–

INCOMING TRANSMISSION–

The alert keeps repeating. I take one look at Zim's confused expression and run up the ramp. The monitors flicker white and blue as the updated software kicks in and the system recalibrates. I don't know what buttons to push, so I start pushing them all. Zim follows after me and shoves me aside, swatting my hands away from the control panel.

"Stop it," he hisses. "Don't touch anything–"

"The transmission–" The words tumble out of my mouth like sand. "What's the transmission?"

He unlocks the controls and flips the black switch on the left.

TRANSMISSION LOG ACCESSED.

Zim's eyes waver as the notification history loads. "...These are from GIR's comms unit."

The screen is filled with eight consecutive messages. Every single one of them is the same.

... .- ..-. .

... .- ..-. .

... .- ..-. .

... .- ..-. .

... .- ..-. .

... .- ..-. .

... .- ..-. .

... .- ..-. .

I grab the back of the driver's seat as the room begins to spin. The air catches in my lungs, sticking to the thin walls, too heavy to push or pull in either direction. The screen continues to flash with one word written in Morse code:

SAFE

.

.

.

[Zim]

Dib makes a sound as if his lungs have been punctured. I flinch and turn to him, but he's already sliding to the ground, grabbing his head and trembling. Not a moment later, he begins to cry. Heavy, wet sobs snap back and forth from his mouth, stretched tight over clenched teeth as he gasps and struggles for air. He tucks his head between his knees, tangling his fingers through his grimy hair as his emotions continue to unravel.

The tightness in my chest returns, but with a different ache.

" What is he doing? " Tak watches from the edge of the ramp, her uninjured antennae twitching with interest.

My throat feels dry. " The transmissions are from his sibling. "

" So she is safe. " She purses her lips. " Is he not relieved? "

" He is ," I answer, growing numb to avoid the blooming weight in my bones. " Humans occasionally release stress in this manner. "

Dib wipes thick streams of tears from his cheeks, but more rapidly follow. He sounds like he's choking.

She grimaces and eyes Dib with something that borders contempt. " They are a strange species. "

I watch Dib for any sign of regulation, but he just cries harder. " You should tend to the market before nightfall."

Her lip curls. " Fine. Give me a list of what you require so I don't have to listen to his awful noises. "

"I'll be right back," I murmur - but he doesn't acknowledge me. Tak turns on her heels and I follow her down the ramp, glancing back at Dib's curled frame before we round the corner into the small lab.

" This device you've made, " she mutters as she pulls a tablet from its charging port and unlocks the screen, " is it nearly operational? "

I grab the unit and quickly enter a list of the remaining parts. " Yes. " I hand it back to her and bite down the discomforting pain worming around my organs. He's still crying.

She scans the data and arches a brow. " That's all you need? "

" I was almost finished with it before we left Earth ." I remove her cloak and offer it to her, but she scowls and tosses it on the table. I roll my eyes. " Is there a place for him to sleep? "

Her antennae twitches and she releases an aggravated sigh. " There's a spare room upstairs. The first door by the landing. "

" Good ." I motion toward the exit. " Have fun dealing with the natives ."

She scoffs, but then something shifts in her face.

" Why are you allowing me to leave? " she asks, hesitant.

I shrug. " Because I know you'll return ."

Her gaze narrows and she sneers. " Your confidence is misplaced, Zim. "

"Is it, now?" I let the pain in my chest soak through my tongue. "Where else would you go? You have no mission, no PAK - what remains of your pathetic life is held within these walls." Her expression contorts with hatred as I lean in. "And if you cross me, I'll burn them to the ground."

She does a poor job concealing the fear that blooms in her eyes. Clenching her jaw, she swallows hard and turns away.

" Don't touch anything while I'm gone ," she hisses. I stare after her until she vanishes through the doorway on the other side.

Dib hasn't moved, but his noises are less…noisy. I sit beside him on the floor, unsure of myself, of him, but I know physical comfort means something to his stupid brain, so I set an arm over his shoulders and pull him toward me. He accepts the gesture without hesitation and starts dripping his face fluids all over my shirt. I stifle the protest and sit quietly as he continues…whatever this is. My eyes fall on the screen above us, on the dots and dashes she somehow managed to send our way.

SAFE.

GIR's communication signature is unmistakable, which means he's still active and functioning, and they're both alive - that's as 'safe' as one can be in a situation like this.

The relief is there, however small. I let it fill my bones, let myself rest within its weight for a moment, despite the work that lies ahead - despite how far we have left to go. I tighten my hold on him, and he cries until there's nothing left; until his noises are weak and strained; until his eyes are swollen with exhaustion and everything inside of him has succumbed to the weight.

"Dib." I slowly shift beside him. "You need to rest."

He murmurs something unintelligible. I nudge his chin from my shoulder. "This is non-negotiable. Come on."

He doesn't protest - he even lets me pull him to his feet. I grab his wrist and guide him down the ramp. His movements are slow, heavy, and resigned, and he keeps his eyes toward the floor as we cross into the hallway. I spot the additional staircase to the right and tug him along.

"Where are we going?" he mumbles.

"There's a room up here for you - watch your step."

He navigates the stairs like a drunken smeet. It'd be amusing if he didn't look so…drained. I hold my tongue and save the insults for later, when he stops being sad and drippy.

I push the door open and glance around the room. It's bigger than I expected, and less cluttered than the disaster of her lab. The shelves lining each wall are shuttered and labeled with symbols I don't recognize, and the few crates stacked beside the door are coated in a thin layer of dust. A skylight spans the high ceiling over the circular bed, washing the room in a soft, amber glow.

I pull him inside and let go of his wrist, watching as he scans the space with increasing interest, the exhaustion giving way to his incessant curiosity. He draws a line in the dust along the top of the crate, smearing the substance between his index finger and thumb.

"I think someone else used to live here with Tak."

"They should have taught her how to clean," I quip. "Her lab is abhorrent."

He hums under his breath and moves toward the bed.

"Damn," he whispers, looking up through the skylight. "What a fucking view."

I follow his gaze to the nebulas above, burnt orange and gold, smeared with stars and a litany of moons. The dark silhouette of the city buildings frame the edges of the window, laced with distant bridges and landing ports. Dib stares as if he's incapable of looking elsewhere, his eyes wide and shiny, reflecting the lights like fire in the red of his irises.

The tightness returns - and once again, it's different. I swallow and avert my gaze.

"I sent Tak to run a few errands," I mutter, stepping away from the bed. "You should get your rest while she's away."

He blinks out of his childish trance, and his expression hardens slightly. "You let her leave? What if she doesn't come back?"

I roll my eyes. "She will."

"Okay, what if she does come back, and she brings some crazy alien friends to gut us in our sleep?"

"Please," I scoff. "People who live here don't have friends , Dib. That's the point."

I can see the arguments piling up inside him, but he's too exhausted to give them any life. He mutters to himself and sighs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress.

I click my tongue. "Don't worry about Tak - I'm handling it. But you've had a long day, and you need to rest–"

"What's the surgery for, Zim?" he interjects. "And when were you planning on telling me about it?"

My voice falters and I snap my mouth shut. Of course she said something - why would I expect otherwise?

"Is that what the errands are for?" he continues. "Is that why we're here?"

Frustration boils over in my lungs, but I know there's no escaping the conversation. A low growl warms my chest and I rub the space between my eyes.

"Part of it, yes. Though I obviously didn't expect any of this to happen, so the rest of it has been…improvised."

He glares up at me and folds his arms in his lap. The bags under his eyes are accentuated in the low light, and the red orbs burn like lithium.

"You said you couldn't fix me." The words drive something sharp between my organs. "So what the fuck could I possibly need surgery for?"

"I can't fix you." The edges cut my tongue as it shapes each syllable. That damned ache in my bones continues to grow and change. "But I…made something that could help."

In my periphery, I catch his gaze softening ever so slightly. The tension in his shoulders diminishes, and the angry little crease of his nose smooths over.

"...You did?"

I nod, focusing on containing my thoughts so they don't spill over where he can see. The process is rather draining, but given all the questions he's been asking, it must be working.

"Wait here," I mutter. "I'll be right back."

.

.

.

[Dib]

"...What is that?"

"An implant." He sits down beside me with a metal orb cusped gently between his palms. The dark surface gleams beneath the skylight. "For your heart."

"For my…" I frown and reach for the device, but he pulls away.

"Don't touch it," he hisses. "It's delicate."

"For my heart," I repeat flatly. The gears creak and groan in my skull as I stare at the foreign invention. It's about the size of my fist - maybe a little bigger - but definitely too big to be anywhere near my organs, let alone my heart. "Y-you want to put that inside of me?" Anger and fear blend seamlessly together, driving back the wall of exhaustion. "Are you fucking crazy?"

He scowls, eyes glowing in the shadows of the room. "If you'd let me explain, you would–"

"Explain?" I scoff, incredulous. "You've had plenty of time to explain, Zim. We spent six fucking days in the Voot with nothing to do but talk. Why the fuck didn't you say something sooner?"

His antennae dip behind his head. "I was not in the mood to deal with your antics. The trip was taxing enough on its own–"

"Oh, I'm sorry," I snap, the heat growing, pressing against my bones. "I didn't realize you had to be in the mood to discuss jamming a hunk of metal in my fucking chest cavity."

I try to grab the device again, but he smacks my hand with a sharp sting.

"Only part of it goes inside of you, you idiot," he snarls. "You're being dramatic - you don't even know how it works–"

" Dramatic ?" I push at his shoulder, fighting to reach the implant. "Are you fucking kidding - ah !"

He shoves me onto my back with enough force to rid my lungs of air. All the anger catches in my throat as he climbs on top, pinning me to the sheets.

"Stop it, Dib," he snaps. "Stay still ."

Electricity rips through my extremities, locking me in place. My breath hitches at the familiar sensation - the same one that forced me back when I was trying to unchain him and he yelled at me. Dread floods my veins as my sense of control vanishes completely.

"Do you want answers, or are you just looking for an excuse to throw one of your tantrums?"

My heart skips as I stare up at him. His free hand is splayed across my chest, holding me to the bed, his knees on either side of my hips. But even if he wasn't pinning me down, I don't think I could move.

"Fine." I clench my jaw, nostrils flaring. "Explain, then."

He hmmphs to himself and removes his hand from my sternum - but instead of getting off of me, he sits up and settles his weight on my lap.

Heat rushes through me; a vicious sandstorm ripping across my nerves. My body stays frozen beneath him, muscles rigid.

"As I was saying," he chimes, as if this is just another normal conversation, "only part of the implant will be submerged in your inferior chest cavity." He turns the device over, exposing several port connections with a more angular fit. "These sectors will connect with your existing cardiac ports, and the rounded portion on top will protrude for routine maintenance."

"Maintenance?" I echo, numb. "For what?"

"Yes, I – Oh." He pauses like he's just now realizing he hasn't explained anything. "I made this so you won't have to drink blood anymore."

"...What?" My thoughts scatter at the notion, and all I can do is stare with a stupid look on my face. "I won't?"

He nods, running his thumb over one of the ports. "It will deliver the required elements directly to your circulatory system."

My heart skips between my ribs. I decide that talking is the best distraction from whatever is happening to my body. "But I thought…I thought you said you couldn't fix me?"

He frowns. "This isn't fixing you, Dib. This is patchwork at best."

My mind reels. It certainly sounds like fixing to me.

"So…you're going to connect this to my heart, and it'll provide everything my body needs so I don't go nuts again?"

He purses his lips and shrugs. "Eh, it won't address your existing mental instability - but you shouldn't have your blackouts, and you won't need to rely on disgusting human juice to survive."

"That's…wow." I clear my throat. "How long have you been working on this?"

"Since we got back from the mines - once I discovered I was not able to separate the mutation from your DNA." He taps his claws along the rounded metal. "I would've had it done sooner if your parental unit's laboratory wasn't so difficult to steal from."

I blink at the memory of him scoping the perimeter - the exhaustion in his eyes, the dullness of his skin. How many hours had he been pouring into it? "That's why you went to my dad's lab? For this?"

"Yes." He grimaces at the recollection. "What a horrible place."

My brain feels like soup. I have no idea what to say. Too much has happened – too much is currently happening. Every second of my life has been insane for weeks now, and it just keeps going, and every time I think I'll have a moment to breathe , something new and more insane occurs, and I just keep spiraling. I came in here so I could fucking sleep , and now we're talking about goddamn heart surgery, and I can't feel my body, I can't control anything, and he's sitting on top of me as if all of this is just another day, and I don't know what to do with this burning thing in my chest.

I must not be doing a great job at stifling the maelstrom of chaos in my head. He watches me for a moment and sighs, gently setting the orb by the pillows to my left.

"It won't hurt," he mutters. "You'll be asleep, same as any other surgery. And with your regenerative abilities, I doubt your recovery will be anything to worry about."

There's no good way to tell him that the surgery is only one of the many things concerning me right now. When I don't respond, he sighs again and hooks his thumbs under the hem of my shirt.

I tense even more, pulse thundering. "What are you doing?"

"Demonstrating the procedure, since your stupid meat brain is panicking for no reason." He rolls the fabric up and sticks out his tongue. "You really should take this off - it's filthy."

My teeth are grit too tight for me to formulate a response, but he's apparently ignorant of whatever the fuck is happening in my brain, because he continues tugging the stained shirt until it's bunched just below my neck. My abdomen clenches at the cool air, goosebumps rippling across my flesh.

He leans in, bracing himself with one hand above my hip while the other drifts over my sternum. I grip the folds in the blankets on either side - the only movement I can manage.

"It will take three incisions. The main one will be here." His claw drags down - not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave a red, puffy line. The breath sticks in my lungs as I watch the way his hand moves, thoughtful and precise, marking my pale flesh with ease. "And the other two will be here…and here." The tip of his finger carves two more lines; one under each pectoral. The marks burn, cold and hot. All of my previous concerns go tumbling from my ears. Something in me waits for a bead of red to appear, for the bright smell of copper to fill the room. I bite back the impulse, cursing inwardly, but I can't take my eyes off the sharp angles of his fingers.

What the fuck am I thinking?

One of his hands returns to my hip as he reaches for the implant. My body flushes with heat, skin buzzing in the absence of his claws; red lines stark along my chest.

"There are four ports in total to match the major vessels connected to your heart - three of them will deliver the components stored in these vials on the front." He shifts his weight as he carefully separates the lid on the device. "This is where the maintenance occurs - we'll need to switch out the materials every so often."

His thumb idly grazes the jut of my hip bone as he rambles. My eyes are glued to the movement, soft and subtle; mindless, even. The heat rises, somehow consuming so much and yet not enough.

"...fourth port will monitor your blood levels to ensure your body's nutritional needs are being met…"

His words barely register past the fire in my veins. Panic fills every inch of me, pressing hard against my bones. My mind races with half-finished thoughts and warning signs - but he prattles on, oblivious to the agonizing bewilderment tearing through my skull.

"...to calculate your exact percentages–"

"Hey," I interrupt weakly, "I don't mean to sound ungrateful or anything, but…could we talk about this later?"

He blinks and looks at me. "What's wrong?"

I swallow. It's probably best not to mention that I think he might be controlling my body. "I'm just…really tired."

His eyes hold mine for a moment, the weight familiar in its discomfort, and then they trail down my torso, settling on my navel for half a second too long. The tips of my ears prickle with warmth.

"Of course," he says, rolling his eyes and withdrawing his hand from my hip. "Your soggy caveman brain can't function without a nap."

He pushes off the bed and straightens his uniform. "The bathroom facilities are connected to the room - you should shower before you sleep. You're filthy."

"Uh-huh."

He pauses, staring down at me. Something in his voice changes. "You can move now, you know."

I grit my teeth against the rush of energy that follows his words. "I know," I respond, feigning nonchalance. "I told you, I'm just tired."

Pulling my shirt back down, I slowly sit up, acting as if I'm just…really, really comfortable. The weight of his stare is impossible to ignore, but he doesn't say anything - so I don't, either.

He steps aside as I stand to my feet and stretch my arms overhead.

"You said there's a shower?" I ask.

He nods and gestures to the short hallway in the corner.

"And it's…safe?"

His brow pinches. "What?"

I shrug. "I don't know what the water content is like here - it could melt my skin off or some weird shit."

"What is with you and thinking everything is going to be acidic?" He rolls his eyes and walks past me. "Come on."

I follow him and tell myself that I'm choosing to take each step, but the doubt looms in every shadow, threatening my reality. The marks burn along my chest. I clear my throat.

"You know, it's funny - I always thought I'd be the one cutting you open."

He glances over his shoulder and sneers. "Please. In your dreams, stink-beast."

The automated lights turn on, but they're old and dim, barely illuminating the bathroom. I pause by the sink, scanning the seamless floor peppered with drains and the cracked tiles along the wall. It looks less like a shower and more like an oversized mudroom. There's no partition between the showerhead and the rest of the space.

"This is…weird," I mutter, glancing at the various tubes and hoses sticking out of the walls.

"It's efficient," Zim says, crossing his arms. "Your silly Earth showers are limited - a waste of space, really."

"Right." I frown at the assortment of water fixtures. "I assume the concept of 'privacy' isn't a thing over here?"

"The facilities are already within the room. That is privacy." He walks toward one of the spiral handles by the sink and gives it a hard turn. Water sputters from the showerhead closest to us, spitting sharply before warping into a steady downpour. I stare at it long enough to ensure it's clear and there's no weird smell.

"Okay," I sigh. "I guess this is fine–"

Zim suddenly shoves me forward. A strangled yelp twists up my throat as I stumble into the spray. The cold water immediately soaks through my clothes and I gasp.

"Is it acid, Dib?" he teases. I shoot him a glare, spitting the water from my mouth.

"I don't know, Zim ," I snap. "You tell me."

He's not fast enough. I grab his wrist and yank him toward me, narrowing avoiding the wild swing of his fist.

"Dib - no - hey!"

He yelps as I wrestle him to the floor, pinning him under the spray until his uniform is sopping wet.

"You horrible beast !" he snarls, squirming in my arms. "You think this is funny?!"

"No," I sneer, leaning in. "I think it's hilarious , you stupid bug."

His face is flushed deep purple, and his heated ranting quickly switches languages. I ignore his useless protests; they're half-hearted, anyway.

"That's what you get for hiding shit from me," I taunt. The water slowly warms, pooling around us with a tint of red as the gore is washed from my clothing. I let go of him and sit back on my heels, combing the wet hair from my face. "Don't do that anymore, got it? We're supposed to be working together out here - you need to keep me in the loop."

He scrambles off of his back and quickly scoots away from the downpour.

"...Fine." His nose wrinkles at the sight of crimson. His antennae rapidly flick back and forth, flinging water droplets. "It'll be eons before you're rid of all this filth," he grumbles.

"Well, my clothes needed a wash anyway." The temperature continues to rise, steadily warming my back and easing the tension from my spine. "Is there soap in here or something?"

"Uh…" He glances around. "I don't believe so."

I sigh and massage the ache between my brows. "And I assume there aren't any towels, either?"

"Do you see any towels, Dib?" He scoffs and stands to his feet, wiping the water from his face.

"And I have exactly one pair of clothes," I mutter. "Neat."

"Don't be a baby." He sighs and trudges toward the hallway, soaking wet. "Zim will locate your stupid toiletries."

I watch in mild amusement as he crosses the room, trailing water with every squishy step and tugging at his uniform in frustration. When he leaves, I wrangle my boots from my feet and toss them to the other side with a heavy, wet thwap . The coat is harder to remove.

The thick fabric clings to my torso with an attitude, fighting every tug and pull.

"Come on," I hiss. "Get off –"

I arch and twist until I'm rolled on my back and wrenching it from my arms like a goddamn swamp monster. By the time I'm free, Zim's already waiting in the doorway with a lump of gray towels in one hand and a smooth, orange capsule in the other.

I glare at him, slapping the defeated garment to the floor beside me. "Can I help you?"

"You're ridiculous." A snide expression tugs his features. "I leave you alone for two minutes and you almost strangle yourself with your own clothes."

"Yeah, they're not really supposed to get soaking wet, Zim." I scoff and sit up, wiping the water from my eyelashes. "I bet your stupid uniform is gonna be a bitch to get off, too."

He rolls his eyes and drops the bundle in the sink. "The soap tablets are in the capsule - just put one of them in the water and it will activate."

I nod performatively. "Dump the whole thing in the water. Got it."

His shoulders slump and he groans. "I don't even care at this point, Dib. Just hurry up and go to sleep so I can get back to work." He grabs the capsule and tosses it to me. "I'll come get you if you're not awake at a reasonable hour."

"Yeah, no," I snort. I pop open the lid and shake a tablet out onto my palm. It begins to sizzle and expand into thick globs of foam, bursting with a bright citrus scent. "...Huh."

"No?" he repeats, arching a brow. "What do you mean, no?"

"You got my clothes all wet, dumbass." I cap the tube and set it by the drain, because I'm definitely going to use more than one. "I don't have anything to sleep in."

It takes a minute for the gears to turn in his stupid little bug brain. " Gross ." He gags and sticks out his tongue. "Fine, whatever. I'll just throw something at you if you sleep too long."

"Oh good." I roll my eyes, redirecting my attention to the ever-expanding foam as it bubbles over my arms. "Something to look forward to."

His lingering stare is getting annoying. I sigh and shoot him a knowing look. " Goodnight , Zim."

"Don't break anything," he grumbles, turning on his heels. And then, without pausing, he swipes the towels from the sink and throws them in the water.

"Oh, you fucker –" I scramble after him, but I'm covered in soap, so all I manage to accomplish is looking like an idiot for the millionth time as I slip and smack my jaw on the floor.

His impish laugh echoes as he vanishes down the hall.

"Goodnight, Dib !"