rise and fall

by invaderssayni

Summary:

Some people come to the Resisty out of a sincere desire to improve the lives of those affected by the Irken Empire. Others join out of spite, to stick it to one or two specific people.

Zim was the originally the latter, but he quickly learns that there's a lot the Empire doesn't want their citizens to know.

Notes:

So, we're finally doing this!

I've been writing stuff in this universe For Me TM since at least 2008, and finally decided to adapt it for public consumption. So, uh... enjoy! This is going to be a long one, haha.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

23117.22.14
Imperial Courts, Irk

“Well, that was quick,” the Meekrobian judge (chosen for neutrality) says, resettling back at the bench. “Jury, I understand you have reached a consensus on the verdict?”

An older irken stands and salutes. “Yes, your honor. We the jury have found the defendant…”

The jury representative pauses, looking around the courtroom. Red tightens his grip on his companion’s hand, and the other irken strokes his arm comfortingly.

“…Guilty!”

A roar of noise fills the courtroom at this pronouncement; for a moment, Red can’t breathe.

“Order, order!” the judge shouts, banging their gavel on the bench. “Everyone settle down, my goodness, let’s keep this civil, shall we? Now, then.” They turn towards the defendant. “Irken Citizen Purple, you have been found guilty of multiple counts of various war crimes, including but not limited to…”

“They did it,” Red says faintly. “They really did it. They’re really…”

“You knew they were going to.”

“Yeah, but…”

“…sentenced to medical termination, until which point the defendant will return to imprisonment in a maximum security facility.”

“Oh, that’s better than I was expecting,” the other irken comments. “Was wondering if they’d kept our old standard of Pak removal and deletion, I haven’t seen any of the other trials.”

Red stares at him. “You told me they wouldn’t!”

He shrugs. “Educated guess. Wouldn’t have put a firing squad past them, though, all things considered.”

A group of guards files into the courtroom to return Purple to his cell, and Red looks around desperately, hoping that somehow something will change, that this won’t likely be the last time they’re in the same room, that…

Purple turns and meets his gaze with a faint smile and a slight wink, and then he’s gone.

 

20XX, mid-April
Membrane Household, Earth

“Ugh, all this rain is killing me,” Zim complains, shutting Dib’s window behind him and pulling off his raincoat. “You know I had to fly here? Couldn’t see a foot in front of my face the whole time. Awful.”

Dib makes a noncommittal noise, not looking up from his laptop. “Weather forecast says it’ll slow down next week.”

“It’s still disgusting,” he says stubbornly, throwing his boots in a corner and climbing onto the bed. “I’m going to build a weather machine and make it so it never rains again.”

“Last time you did that, it malfunctioned, and it snowed for a month straight,” Dib points out. “I don’t want a winter wonderland themed graduation, thanks.”

Zim frowns. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. In that case, let’s pack up and move to the desert after graduation. I’m not doing this rain thing any longer than I absolutely have to.”

This moves Dib to finally look up from the Swollen Eyeball forums, staring at him silently for a moment before saying, “Maybe Mexico. I’m not taking you anywhere near the American Southwest, the government might pick you up and bring you to Area 51, and then what?”

“Then I cause problems on purpose until you and Gir come break me out,” he says, unconcerned. “Besides, I’m much better at blending in now than I was when I first came here, and no one cared then.”

“…I hate that you’re right.”

The irken shrugs, leaning over Dib to grab the remote and turn the TV on. He eventually lands on a channel airing a show he’s watched with Dib before, and snickers to himself in anticipation.

A few minutes pass before a high-pitched shriek emanates from the TV, and Dib looks back up, groaning. “Oh, these fucking guys,” he begins, and Zim cackles. “No, I’m so serious, they give paranormal investigators a bad name! The main guy is such a dick, and half their evidence isn’t even real! They just fake it for the cameras!”

“As opposed to every other reality show, which is absolutely true to life.”

“The Bachelor isn’t running a scammy haunted museum and bullying the people who work on the show! Meanwhile, Mysterious Mysteries used real footage sent in from real investigators —”

“And you’ve been complaining about it having been cancelled for five years. Face it, people are more interested in watching large men scream like toddlers than they are in facts.”

Dib sighs, falling backwards onto a pillow. “I hate it here.”

“Yes, yes, we all hate it here,” Zim says dismissively. “Let me use you as a pillow, I could do with a nap.”

He gives him a sideways glance. “You’re on my bed, Spaceboy, which is notably covered in actual pillows.”

“Yes, and you’re more comfortable. Now, lay still.”

 

Looking at Zim — or, Dib presumes, your average irken — one would expect them to behaviorally resemble the bugs they physically appear to have evolved from. Not that Dib claims to be any sort of expert on insect behaviors, or on those of really any creature that isn’t cryptozoological in nature, but in the two years since they’d officially transitioned from sworn nemeses into friendship he’s noticed several behaviors that he would typically associate with a completely different class of creature.

Specifically, as he lies in bed half-watching a Mothman documentary, absently stroking Zim’s scalp as the alien shoves his entire face into the side of Dib’s torso, he is reminded irresistibly of a stray cat that used to follow him around the neighborhood when he was a little kid.

That cat was probably the closest he’d ever had to a friend before Zim came to Earth. Unfortunately, the little kitten didn’t like Gaz nearly as much as it liked him, so he hadn’t been allowed to bring it home.

“We’re getting a cat when we move,” he tells the drowsing alien, who mumbles something in Irken that Dib can’t quite make out.

Then, the peaceful night is shattered with a loud boom, the force of the explosion rattling even the overengineered foundation of the Membrane house, and Dib jumps.

“What the fuck was that?”

Zim grumbles something under his breath and rolls over, pulling a pillow over his head.

Dib, meanwhile, scrambles to the window and shoves it open, squinting through the rain — there. “Looks like there’s smoke coming from your street. Think Gir blew something up?”

“Probably. Who cares?” comes a muffled voice, and Dib ducks back inside the room.

“I mean. It’s your house? And you live there?”

Zim waves a hand dismissively, shoving the pillow aside. “That’s a problem for future me. Come back to bed, it’s two in the morning.”

Fair. What did he think Zim was going to do, go running out in a goddamn monsoon in the middle of the night? Dib shakes his head, closing the window firmly. “Alright, alright, I’m coming. Keep your shirt on.”

 

Dib feels like he’s barely managed to close his eyes before he’s woken up by a shrill ringtone, and he groans, groping blindly on his nightstand for his phone. “H’lo?” he mumbles.

“Son!”

That wakes him up. “Dad?” he asks, abruptly sitting up. “What’s up?”

There’s a long silence before the man finally speaks. “Didn’t you say your foreign friend’s house was on Piper Court?” A noise sounds in the background of the call, and Dib strains to make out…

“Are those sirens? Wait, are you there right now? What happened?”

A beat. “Son, you may want to sit down.”

“Wh— Oh! No, Zim’s here, he slept over last night, what happened to the house?”

Zim stirs, opening a bleary pink eye, and Dib holds up a finger.

“Oh, thank Science,” Membrane sighs, clearly relieved. “It looks like there was a gas explosion of some kind, the whole street’s torn apart —”

“The… what?”

“What?” Zim mouths silently, and Dib shakes his head.

“Tell your friend he’s moving in. Is he eighteen yet, do you know? If not, I’ll sort it out with social services, tell him not to worry about anything…”

The words on the phone fade from his awareness to a vague murmur, punctuated by the occasional “yes, Dad” and “okay”. After what feels like an eternity, Membrane finally hangs up, and Dib drops his phone onto the bed, feeling like he’s been hit by a train.

It’s not even his house.

“Dib?”

He turns robotically to look at his friend, who he now has to break the news to that he’s technically homeless.

“Was that the professor? What did he want?”

He should’ve just handed the phone over and made his dad do this. “Well… remember that explosion last night?”

He watches the color drain from Zim’s face. “Don’t tell me.”

“Apparently, the whole street’s a smoking crater, and Dad says you’re moving in with us. Fair warning, he’s probably going to try to be paternal about it, he already considered you an extension of the family, and now...”

The irken stares silently into the distance for a long moment before speaking. “My base… all my —” he cuts himself off, staring up at Dib in horror. “Gir!”

His eyes widen. “Oh my god, Gir. Can you, like, see if…?”

Zim’s already way ahead of him, pulling a communicator out of his Pak. “Gir? Gir? Can you hear me? Do you… Gir, you can have all the tacos you want if you just respond!”

Oh, god. The little robot really did blow himself up, huh. Dib gingerly rests a hand on his shoulder. “Zim…”

“No! No, he will answer, he has to! Gir, please!”

Dib doesn’t think he’s ever seen Zim cry before. He didn’t think irkens could cry.

“I’ll buy you Bloaty’s, Gir! The moon! Come on… I… Please… Please, pick up…”

Now he’s tearing up. Damn it. “Zim…?”

Zim glances around, breathing rapidly. “There’s… no, there has to be…”

“Hey, come on… do you…?” He mentally runs though what little he knows about grief. “Do you want a hug?”

Almost before the sentence is fully out of his mouth, he’s got an armful of alien now fully sobbing into his sleep shirt. Dib absently pats him on the back, murmuring vague assurances in hopes of maybe getting him to calm down.

Not, he thinks, that Zim’s not absolutely justified in being upset. It’s just… well, it’s unnerving. He’s never been any good at comforting upset humans, never mind an alien whose species likes to pretend they don’t have emotions.

(Pretend being the key word. Dib’s met more than his fair share of irkens, and in his experience, they’re all a bunch of ticking emotional time bombs.)

He shakes his head, forcibly changing his train of thought back to the matter at hand. Namely: while he’s gotten used to the whole ‘platonic affection’ thing in the last few years, and is fully capable of a simple embrace without making things weird, he’s completely at a loss for how to at least stop Zim hyperventilating. He thinks he’s heard something about hot beverages being soothing, but he can’t very well just carry Zim downstairs and throw Foodio out of the kitchen to make him hot chocolate.

…Chocolate.

Dib carefully reaches for his nightstand, tugging the top drawer open and blindly rummaging through the contents by feel. Well, he doesn’t appear to have any more candy bars, but…

“Hey, Zim? How do Tajin peach rings strike you?”

“Give,” he manages in between gasps, and Dib obliges, even being so nice as to open the bag for him before passing it over. The alien takes one and hurriedly shoves it in his mouth… then blinks.

“Good?”

He chews the candy slowly, then shoves a handful into his mouth with no hesitation.

“…That’s a yes.”

Zim nods, and he’s breathing more slowly, thank goodness. “You’ve been holding out on me,” he finally manages, a slight note of accusation in his voice.

Honestly? Yes, he has. There’s only so many places that sell them, and he didn’t want to have to go to the small specialty shop downtown every week because Zim found a new candy he likes. It was bad enough when he lived off of sour Skittles exclusively for two and a half weeks, and they sell those everywhere.

“I keep them for emergencies,” Dib says, instead of any of that. “This seemed like as good a time as any to get them out.”

Zim nods thoughtfully, chewing on a couple more fruit rings. He’s mostly not crying anymore, Dib notes with relief. “I think… yes, this was the time. I, ah. I appreciate this. Really.”

“Of course,” he says immediately, because what was he supposed to do, just let Zim have a mental breakdown in his bedroom? “I mean, I’m not… We’re friends, right? Friends do stuff for each other. But also, like, I admit I barely know what I’m doing here, so if there’s something…?”

“More of these,” Zim drawls, holding up the bag of candy. “Actually, how long did you say it’s supposed to be wet and disgusting outside?”

“Why, do you need me to run some errands for you?” Dib says lightly, pulling out his phone, then pauses. “Do you? I mean, I can, if you need me to. It’s supposed to rain through… looks like Saturday.”

Zim scrunches his face up. “Gross. Yes, I suppose you’ll have to do, but… well, it’ll need to be two separate trips, I won’t know what you’d need until…”

He raises an eyebrow. “Until?”

“Can you go have a look at the, ah, the site? Bring me with you on camera, I’ll need to see what the situation is. Whether you could take — you still have Tak’s old ship in the garage, no? Or if you’d need…” He trails off, a slight glimmer appearing in his eyes. “I have the Voot. Oh my Irk, of all the dumb fucking luck. I still have the Voot!”

Dib laughs faintly. “Good thing, too, I don’t think I’d trust mine outside of the solar system.”

“No, Dib, the Voot was connected to my base. It could tell me what happened, or at least the direct cause of the explosion! And it’ll have my computer’s AI still loaded onto it... I’ll never complain about this hell planet’s disgusting weather again for as long as I live, that’s the only reason I’m not completely fucked right now.”

“You mean aside from that time?”

Zim waves him off. “Anyway! I do actually still need a look at the site, to see if anything else survived. Can’t have random humans looting advanced technologies, and all that, right?”

Dib sighs, and begins to drag himself out of bed. “Fine, fine. I’ll put clothes on.”

“And if you happen to pass by that coffee shop on Exchange…?” Zim says, doing the best sad puppy eyes Dib’s ever seen, and the human sighs again.

“Extra spicy nondairy chai latte, seven layer bar?”

“That’s the one. Have I mentioned you’re my favorite human?”

“I’m the only human you can stand to be around for longer than five minutes,” Dib points out, pulling a hoodie over his head.

“And don’t you feel honored?” Zim says sweetly.

He shakes his head, unable to keep an amused grin off his face. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Please, you love me,” he replies off-handedly.

“Didn’t say that,” Dib says hurriedly, but Zim ignores him.

“Don’t forget to call me when you get there so I can look around, yeah?”

He grabs his backpack from its spot next to the door. “Sure. Ten minutes.”

Zim waves him off, snuggling back up under the duvet and turning the TV on.

“…Now, as for the egg cracking itself, don’t do it on the edge of…”

The TV noise fades as Dib hurries downstairs, slipping on the only pair of low-top sneakers he owns, and briefly glances outside. Yes, it’s still raining, and yes, the Voot is in fact still parked behind Gaz’s car. Good. Back inside, he spots the end of his lanyard poking out of a jacket pocket, and grabs his keys (and the roughly fifteen cryptid-themed keychains that also live on his keyring) on his way to the garage. Hopefully, this whole recon thing won’t take too long.

With one last longing sigh at the thought of returning to bed for more sleep, he bravely ventures outside into the disgusting wet to go stare at a hole in the ground.

Notes:

1) If you're curious, the show Dib is roasting is Ghost Adventures, and at the end Zim's watching (the original season of) Good Eats.

2) Yes, Tajin flavored snacks did exist in the late 2000s, it just didn't broadly explode in popularity until 2012. On a related note, fun fact, candies that are very Flavor (sour candies, strong mints, etc) can be helpful in the case of a panic attack. It's not a 100% guarantee, but anecdotally it does work for some people. Something something, grounding you in your physical body, distracting your brain, etc.

3) As for technology... I'm going to handwave it a bit within reason, in a universe where floating tablets and video calls exist for humans there's no reason they can't have iPhones a few months before they actually came out. For anyone worried about the social media tag: don't worry, it's Space Social Media. We're not doing tiktok dances in 2007ish retrofuture world. I just need Dib and Gaz to have access to the internet on their phones while we're still on Earth, so smartphones are a thing slightly earlier.

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Notes:

Happy zadrday, nerds! Sorry this was a little slower than it should’ve been, I was at con last weekend. Enjoy!

20XW October, Earth
Third Sub-Basement, Zim’s Base

 

“What…?” Zim squints in confusion at the readout on his tablet screen. “Why is… Hey, Computer! Can you fabricate me a new one of these drives? This doesn’t look right.”

The computer sighs. “If I have to.”

“You have to.” He frowns down at his Pak. “Probably several more parts. I might need Dib’s help for this, actually, an extra set of hands could be useful. At least for the install, if there are more than a few others that…”

“Hey, Zim! Gir said you were downstairs.”

The irken is reminded suddenly of an Earthen saying, but can’t quite recall one of the words. Something about appearing suddenly. “Hey, Dib, your Irken’s pretty solid, right? Have a look at this and tell me what you think.”

He hands the human the tablet to look over as he reattaches his Pak; further examination can wait for a moment.

“This…” Dib’s brows furrow in confusion, mouthing silently as he scrolls through the readings. “You said you’d stopped trying to take over the Earth, right? Because this looks like a nasty virus, what’s the intended purpose?”

“That’s what I thought!” Zim exclaims, smacking a lab table with his hand. “It absolutely looks like a virus, right? But I’d know if I had a virus. Wouldn’t I?”

Dib looks up from the screen, eyes wide behind his glasses. “This… was in your Pak?”

He nods, pulling up a schematic on the main computer screen. “I was doing some routine maintenance, and noticed something looked off — I know what normal errors look like, and what can be safely ignored, but this drive over here was spitting out all this gibberish code. So, I figure if I replace the drive itself…”

The human makes a noncommittal noise. “Couldn’t hurt. Have you checked to see what else in there might have been affected?”

Zim shakes his head. “I’d just discovered the drive issue before you showed up, and who knows how long it’s been doing that for. It connects to this and this, here, so they might need replacing as well, then we can …”

 

20XX, mid-April, Earth
Piper Court

 

“Well, that sure is a hole in the ground.”

Dib stands in the street facing the former site of Zim’s base, peering over the edge of a gaping chasm so deep, he wouldn’t be shocked if it actually did go all the way to China.

“Back up, Dib, I can’t catch you if you fall,” Zim reminds him from the tablet he’s controlling from Dib’s room. “Do you see any lights down there? Anything shiny?”

The human shakes his head. “Just dirt and darkness. Whatever blew this place up, it looks like it took everything out. Even the gnomes are gone.”

Zim swears under his breath. “Can you walk around the hole, see if anything’s laying around? Be careful not to slip on the mud. I’ll duck out to the ship, see if the computer knows anything.”

“Will do. See you once I’m back.”

 

Zim ends the call and sighs, flopping over on the bed. Well, he hadn’t really expected anything to survive the explosion — anything powerful enough to take out Gir in addition to the entire street wasn’t going to spare any of his labs or computers just because that’d be convenient for him. He’d still like to take the Voot down the hole for a look around at some point, but at this point it’s looking like his best bet for information is going to be asking the ship.

He looks up at the window; it’s still raining, but not quite as hard as it had been earlier. Definitely should be able to sprint between the house and the Voot if he can borrow an umbrella in addition to his raincoat.

After a quick press of the keyfob to make sure the ship’s unlocked, he pulls on his raincoat and boots on his way downstairs and grabs — and comes to a complete halt mid-step, staring at what is quite possibly the ugliest umbrella he’s ever seen. Each of its eight sections has a different, brightly colored, clashing pattern. It’s not even open and it’s giving him a headache.

Gir would’ve adored it, Zim thinks with a frown.

By time he launches himself out the front door in a full sprint to his ship, the rain has slowed further to a light drizzle, and his seat barely even gets wet as he climbs in.

“Alright, wakey-wakey,” he murmurs under his breath, flipping a few switches and pushing the start button. To his relief, the ship purrs to life immediately, chiming as the systems boot up. “Computer?”

After several long moments, an audible sigh emits from the ship. “Yes?”

“Oh, good! You are still here. What’s the most recent information you can pull from the base?”

A beat. “Well, the most recent information I have is that it’s no longer there.”

Zim exhales sharply. Yep, that’s his computer, alright. “Yes, I had gathered that much, thank you. Can you tell me why it is no longer there?”

“Looks like… a self-destruct command came through?”

“What did Gir do?” he breathes, eyes wide. “I didn’t think he knew how to do that.”

“About that,” the computer says after a long pause. “It wasn’t Gir that was responsible.”

Zim blinks. “What.”

“I’m shocked, too,” the computer drawls. “No, the signal came from off-planet. Couldn’t have been Gir.”

“Off-planet?” he murmurs with a frown. “Who the fuck…?”

“Couldn’t tell you, I’m just a computer AI that now lives in a ship.”

A beat. “You didn’t even trace the —! Oh, whatever.” Zim sighs deeply and shuts down the Voot, climbing out of the cockpit just in time for the rain to start pouring again. Swearing, he whips up the ugly-ass umbrella. “Yeah, that might as well happen, too. Fuck me, right?”

He screams the last sentence at the indifferent sky before shuffling into the house, grumbling under his breath.

 

“Hello, children!”

Zim jumps, almost falling off the couch.

“Hi, Dad,” Gaz says, not looking away from the TV screen. “Get your controller, stupid! If you make me lose…”

Zim scrambles to pick up his dropped controller, swearing in Irken as the boss comes after his character. “On it!”

“You’ve been playing games for how long —”

“Is your brother home?”

“Upstairs,” Gaz and Zim say simultaneously.

“Shit, she’s —”

“I see her, on my way.”

Several minutes later, Zim collapses into the couch, letting the controller fall to the floor. “I am never playing a video game with you again.”

“We won, didn’t we?”

“I have been on actual battlefields that were less stressful than that!”

“Get good,” she says indifferently.

“Hey, guys,” Dib says, dropping on the couch next to Zim. “What’s with Dad being home?”

“He lives here, Dib,” Gaz drawls.

A beat. “Does he, though?” Dib says, and Zim snickers. “I can count on one hand the times I’ve seen him this year.”

“That’s because you don’t go to the labs,” she points out. “I see Dad all the time.”

“Every time I go to the labs, all that happens is Dad tries to interrogate me about my college applications. I’m not going to MIT, get off my back.”

“They have science in space, Dib.”

“I used to be a scientist, actually, before the whole invader thing,” Zim pipes up. “It’s kind of a shame Vort got conquered, that’s where I used to work, and Vortians know everything. It’s, like, their thing, the whole planet was basically a massive university.”

“See, that would’ve been perfect,” Dib says wistfully. “I could fuck off to another planet and still not be lying when I told Dad I was moving away to go to college.”

“Who says Vort would take you?” Zim teases him, and Dib sticks his tongue out at him.

“Get a room,” Gaz says, rolling her eyes.

Dib, meanwhile, turns beet red. “Hey, come on! That’s not, I don’t —”

“Wait, that reminds me,” Zim says, abruptly sitting up. “On a not-unrelated note, are we doing senior prom? I know we didn’t go last year, but it’s such a human thing, I feel like we maybe should? Like, for the experience, to say we went?”

“It’s a cultural institution,” Gaz chimes in, her typical deadpan drawl making it impossible for Zim to tell how serious she’s being. “It’s a sacred ritual of our people.”

“It really isn’t,” Dib says hastily. “We had fun skipping it last year, right?”

“You took me ghost hunting.”

“And it was fun!”

“There were no ghosts, Dib.”

“…Well, no,” he admits, “someone had exorcized the place a few weeks before and forgot to notify the registry. But it was still more fun than putting on suits and going to watch our horrible classmates make out to bad pop music.”

“Oh, granted, I would very much prefer it if they weren’t involved, but… I mean, the suits and the dancing don’t seem that bad? I like a good party, and surely they make suits that aren’t ugly and poorly fitted, despite all evidence to the contrary.”

Dib falls silent for several long moments, staring off into the distance with a dazed look on his face, before eventually replying. “Well, if it’s that important to you, I mean…”

“Well, I gather from films that it’s supposed to be, like, a celebration that you’re graduating? And we are graduating, so we should go,” Zim says simply.

“I’m taking you both shopping,” Gaz cuts in, reminding them both that she’s still there. “Separately. You’re welcome.”

The boys blink at each other in mild confusion.

“Okay…?” Zim agrees hesitantly.

The door to the basement swings open, and the professor emerges, only slightly singed. “Well, that was productive! Children, have you decided which restaurant we will be heading to for dinner?”

Dib’s eyes widen slightly. “Right! I was supposed to tell you — well, both of you — Dad’s declared it family dinner night, and Zim, since, well, everything…”

“Right…” Zim says slowly. A dinner at some Earthen restaurant seems like an odd recompense for his house getting blown up, but what does he know? “Ah. What are the options?”

“Anything at all!” Membrane exclaims. “The choice is entirely up to you!”

He blinks rapidly. His mind has gone entirely blank; the only restaurant he can remember the name of is Shloogorgh’s, which is obviously not an option for any number of reasons, and he glances around at the two younger Membranes for help.

“Zim’s a vegan,” Gaz volunteers. “So… probably not Bloaty’s.”

“Of course! In that case, there’s really only one option, isn’t there?”

Zim pauses. “Yes, of course! One option. Yes. Very easy to pick a restaurant for me, ha ha.”

 

“Welcome to Plant Haus. Our special tonight is curried chickpeas over a bed of rice pilaf, and our soup is minestrone. Have you all had a chance to look over the menu?” a tall girl with spiky blue hair and a nose ring rattles off, pulling out a mini tablet.

“Yes, can you tell me what’s in the pumpkin lasagna?” Professor Membrane asks the waitress.

“Plants,” she says flatly.

“Oh, I see! And what about this jerk eggplant dish?”

“They have pasta, I’m saved,” Gaz mutters under her breath.

“Why are there so many beans?”

“Beans, in a vegan restaurant, groundbreaking,” Dib says flatly.

“This mushroom thing should be edible, right? I don’t see anything I hate on the ingredients list, and it’s a pasta dish, that’s carbs…”

“…tastic! Yes, I think I’ll have that. Children?”

The other three hurry to place their orders with the waitress, and she strolls back to the kitchen so slowly one would think she was getting paid to inflate ticket times.

“Now, then!” The professor lightly taps his knife against his water glass a few times. “A toast, to our foreign friend Tim —”

“Zim,” they correct him.

“— Zim, may he feel welcome in our home, where he will always have a place from here onward.” The man focuses intently on him. “I know we can never replace the family you lost, but I for one would be honored if you would consider yourself a member of the Membrane family for all intents and purposes. If you need anything at all — clothing, a car, college tuition, a job — please do not hesitate to ask. Dib, Gaz, I’m counting on you two to buy your foreign friend anything he needs until his card arrives in the mail.”

Zim blinks. “Ah. Thank you?”

Membrane waves it off. “Oh, no trouble, no trouble at all! Really, anything at all, just say the word! We take care of our own.”

His eyes dart over to Dib, then coughs. “Would, um. Would it be possible for me to use your labs? Not for anything too —”

“Of course you can!” the man booms excitedly, shaking his hand. “Welcome to the family!”

“I knew Zim was the favorite child,” Gaz mutters, pulling her Game Slave out of her pocket.

“Of course he is, he’s a scientist,” Dib says, toasting his water glass with a roll of his eyes. “Predictable.”

“Careful, he’ll try to leave you Membrane Labs.”

“No, he won’t, Zim’s not a Membrane,” Dib disagrees.

“Well, that’s easy enough to remedy,” Gaz says, smirking at him.

Dib throws a bread roll at her.

“Dib, leave your sister alone.”

“Yeah, Dib, leave your sister alone,” she parrots smugly.

“Oh, come on!”

“Dib…” Zim shoulder checks him affectionately, and Dib nudges him back. “Fight with the Gaz on your own time. Tonight’s about me. Thank you.”

A beat. “You know… you’re not wrong.”

“I know. Pass me a bread roll, would you?”

He really shouldn’t have been surprised when the roll went flying past his head, bouncing off a waitress’s shoulder.

Notes:

Next time: Skoodge, lore, and more information about the explosion!

I am working on putting together a Spotify playlist for this fic; it’s very much in WIP status for now, but I’ll link to it once I’m happy with it. :)