Chapter Text
The trip down the lift to the lab was an awkward, cramped one. Though Gaz was around the same size as Zim, Membrane was a very large human, nearly seven feet tall, so it was a tight squeeze despite the fact that the lift they were using was the biggest one in the base. No one spoke the whole way down, but once the doors opened to reveal the massive cavern that was Zim’s lab, Membrane couldn’t help but gasp aloud.
“This is incredible.” He whispered to himself as he turned slowly in a circle, careful not to trip as Gaz and Zim moved past him. He took in the high ceiling covered in wires and cables, some thicker than he was tall, and the vast amount of technology so new and foreign to him. Zim must’ve heard him, because the little alien chuckled.
“Dib thought so too.” Zim said, a fond smile on his face. “The first time I let him in here on friendly terms, it took me three days to get him to leave. Eventually, Zim just had the computer fabricate a room for him down here.”
Zim spoke with warmth in his voice, but then his smile dropped and he halted his steady march. He gazed forlornly at one section of the lab, where a bomb of unfinished projects seemed to have gone off, because it was much less organized than the rest of the lab. Membrane recognized a few of the disassembled gadgets as some of his own rejected inventions that Dib had expressed interest in. The man realized with a pang in his heart that this must’ve been Dib’s designated workstation.
“After… after realizing what I’d done, I thought long and hard about what a life on earth without Dib would be like. It made me realize a few things.” Zim said in a quiet, hoarse voice.
“Dib was the one who helped me realize that my mission was a lie. He helped me break my conditioning, my very programming, to defy my nature and my Tallests. I gave him a lot of shit over it, at the time, but my life has been… fulfilling since then. I’m no longer striving for the attention of people who don’t care about me or deserve my efforts. I have friends who genuinely like me for who I am now.”
Zim looked up at Gaz, his eyes wide and watery, but soft in a way that she’d never seen before.
“You became precious to Zim, Gaz. You and Dib. You both cared about me in a way no one else has before. You showed me that I could have a real life here on this ball of dirt you call home. But…”
Zim trailed off and bowed his head. He gazed down at his shaky hands with glazed eyes, a few stray tears streaking down his cheeks. He spoke in a broken whisper,
“An earth that doesn’t have Dib on it? That’s not somewhere that I can live. That isn’t home .”
Zim’s voice cracked at the end of his sentence, and it echoed through the suddenly silent lab. It seemed as though even the constant humming of machinery was gone. It dawned on Membrane in that moment that Zim truly did love Dib. He cared for both of the youngest Membranes very deeply, and he was hurting just as much as they were over Dib’s death. Possibly even more so due to his being the cause of it, though it was out of his control. Membrane had no right to judge the alien, and he certainly had no right to be his jury and executioner.
Zim let out a little startled squeak when a large gloved hand rested on his head between his antennae. He looked up Membrane, ruby eyes wide with confusion and a bit of fear. The tall scientist looked down at the tense alien with a soft gaze instead of a steely one, and he offered a little smile and a nod. Zim’s antennae perked up and his eyes widened when he understood the man’s silent message. He’d be spared from his wrath. Zim gave a wobbly smile in return and made a relieved little chirp noise.
Membrane patted the alien’s smooth head once before striding past him and headed deeper into the lab.
“So, tell me about this time machine of yours.”
Zim scrambled after Membrane and took the lead once again, but not before making sure Gaz was still following close behind. He fell into stride just ahead of the tall scientist, seemingly back to his confident self, and began to explain,
“I’ve been working on modifying the time displacement portal for the past ten hours.” He said. “Simply replacing an existing object from the past leaves far too much room for failure. Zim will not stand for failure, not in this. I’ve been trying to find a way to both make myself compatible with time travel, and negate the need to replace an object and simply travel freely through the portal. I’m sure that I’ve discovered a way, but I could use your help with the calculations, Membrane.”
Zim paused and realized what he’d just said. The alien puffed up and gave an exaggerated huff. “Feel honored, human! The mighty Zim is allowing you to assist him with your inferior intellect!” He crowed, embarrassment obvious in the way that he fidgeted and the darker spots of green on his cheeks.
“I’ll see what I can do.” The Professor said, amused.
Membrane didn’t let it show, but he was impressed. Time travel was only possible in theory to humans, and yet this little alien built a time machine a year ago. He felt the beginnings of excitement bubble up in his chest at the thought of tinkering with such a device, but he squashed the feeling before it became obvious. He may have decided to spare the alien, but that didn’t mean that he trusted him in any capacity.
Zim led the two humans through the labyrinth-like series of cavernous rooms that made up his lab until they entered a slightly smaller chamber. It was similar to all the others in how the walls were covered in massive cables and tubes, but they all converged on a single circular machine located against the wall opposite the entrance.
Membrane figured that this was the time displacement portal. It sure was portal-shaped. Along the large ring of dark purple metal were lights that glowed an ominous pink, and to the side of it was a terminal with two screens and various levers and flashing buttons. There was a ramp leading into the portal, and just in front of that ramp was a table upon which a messy setup of computers, tablets, and other devices that were obviously alien in origin sat. They were all connected to the portal and terminal with colorful wires and nodes that fed the computer screens information written in a language that Membrane didn’t understand.
Zim walked up to the cobbled setup and began clacking away on multiple keyboards, muttering under his breath. Membrane moved to stand next to him, and the little alien was too engrossed in his work to tense or otherwise acknowledge him as a threat.
“These terminals are monitoring the portal’s output. This one,” Zim tapped a few keys on one of the computers and the information scrolling across it became legible for the two humans, “is monitoring space-time continuum stability. We need to keep an eye on it at all times once we start running simulations.”
Without looking away from the screens, Zim snatched up one of the tablets teetering precariously on the edge of the gadget and wire-strewn surface and thrust it at Membrane. “This is the formula I have so far. We need to adjust it for an organic life form of your stature, but I think it will allow me to stabilize the portal enough to give us entry without the need to replace objects in the past. If you would look it over, Zim would be very grateful.”
Membrane took the strange tablet from Zim’s claws and scrolled through the pages and pages of equations and formulas. It was very impressive, especially if the little alien really had only been working on it for less than a day. The man began to mentally go over the information and check for any mistakes or potential complications.
While he did that, Zim dragged two contraptions off the table and laid them along the floor. Membrane looked up from his tablet and scrutinized the devices. They looked like clunky metal belts, with large square sections between each hinge, also made of the same strange purple metal most things in the lab seemed to be composed of. Zim hooked the two belts up to one of the dormant monitors on the table via twin pink cables.
“What are those?” Membrane asked curiously.
Zim didn’t look up from his work prying open the metal squares that turned out to be compartments filled with blinking lights and circuit boards. “If my calculations are correct, these will allow us to enter the portal unimpeded.”
Gaz walked over and nudged one of the metal links with her foot, ignoring Zim’s warning hiss.
“Why are there only two? I’m coming too, right?” She asked.
Both Membrane and Zim shouted at the same time, horrified at the thought,
“NO!”
Gaz startled a little at the twin shouts, but quickly recovered to pin the two scientists with one of her infamous glares. “Why not?” She growled.
Zim met her glare unflinchingly. “Gaz-beast, I’m sure that your father-unit agrees with Zim when I say this, but you need to stay behind. I won’t endanger another of my closest friends again. You’re far too important to Zim. You have to understand,” he implored. “I suspect that my PAK went into emergency combat mode during my blackout that night. That means that Zim’s PAK went into overdrive in a last-ditch effort to protect its host because it interpreted the situation as a life or death scenario. I know you can hold your own against me in a spar, Gaz. I’m not saying that you’re weak because we both know you’re not, but listen to me when I say that nothing but another irken can survive more than ten minutes head to head with an irken in emergency combat mode. A PAK running a base program can’t be reasoned with, and it will strike you down just as swiftly as it did Dib.”
Zim’s usually bombastic voice was low and serious with an undercurrent of desperation. Gaz had only ever heard him talk like that once in her life, and considering that the entire world nearly ended that day, she was inclined to listen. She broke eye contact with a huff.
“Fine. I’m going to go play video games with Gir. Call me if you need any coding done.”
Zim visibly relaxed, relieved that she wasn’t going to argue with him. “Gir is in his containment room. I didn’t want him to… interfere when I offered you my technology and then myself for judgement. I was convinced that I’d be deactivated by your parental unit, but he’s shown me mercy. Eh, right?” Zim turned uncertain eyes up at Membrane, who was watching their interaction curiously. The man gave an affirming nod.
Gaz gave Zim a nasty stink eye. “You were just going to let my dad kill you?” At Zim’s sheepish nod, she sighed, exasperated. “You’re still the biggest idiot I know, spacebug. You better not get yourself killed in that portal, okay? It would suck to survive my dad’s wrath only to die an hour later.” She grouched, but both Membrane and Zim knew what she was trying to say.
Zim slowly rose from the floor to stand eye to eye with Gaz, expression soft. Sad. “I can’t guarantee my own safety, Gaz. If I have to kill my past self and be erased from time to save Dib, I will do so with dignity not as an Irken soldier, but as a defender of earth.”
Zim gave Gaz a short, neat salute. Arm diagonal across his chest and antennae wiggling atop his head. There must’ve been some significance to the gesture, because Gaz stiffened and her eyes went wide. The girl stared at him for a moment before suddenly darting forward and hugging the little alien tightly.
“Just- just promise you’ll try to come out of there alive, Zim. You’re important to me too, you know.” Gaz whispered tearfully, voice cracking.
Zim smiled sadly and returned the hug, nuzzling into Gaz’s hair affectionately. “I will try, Gaz. Zim promises.” He slowly let go of the girl after a few moments and nudged her toward the exit. “Go play with Gir. He’s probably torn up his containment room by now and he’ll be very happy to see you. Your father-unit and I have got this.”
Gaz sniffled and nodded. She darted over to Membrane to give him a quick hug before running from the room. Both alien and human watched her retreat and stared for a while out into the cavernous chambers of the lab beyond. A contemplative silence filled the room for a long moment after she was gone.
Membrane turned his gaze down at Zim. “You really care about my children, don’t you?” He asked, deep voice soft.
Zim returned his gaze fiercely and nodded. “More than anything in the universe. More than the Irken Empire, more than the Tallests. The earth is my home now, and your children are Zim’s family. I would die for them, I realize that now.”
Membrane watched Zim closely and saw the truth of his words in the way the alien’s voice was soft and fond as he spoke, and how his ruby eyes glistened with emotion. The man cleared his throat a little and reached out to awkwardly pat the little green creature on the head.
“You know, I think having an alien as part of our family won’t be so bad.” Membrane said with a small smile.
Zim gaped up at the human, shocked, before he positively beamed, eyes shining with gratitude. He gave a happy little trill. “Zim would be honored, Membrane-human.” He chirped. “Dib has told me so much about how you’re the smartest, most influential human on earth, and so very tall. With your help, we’ll have this portal running in no time. Dib really looks up to you, and for someone as smart as him to hold you in such high regard, then it all must be true.”
If he didn’t know any better, Membrane would think that Zim was buttering him up, but something stood out to him.
“Dib... really said that? About me?” He asked quietly. Something wrapped around his heart and squeezed.
Zim didn’t seem to notice his shift in tone, because the alien just smiled and nodded. He sat down on the floor next to the two belt-like devices and dragged one into his lap. “Yes. Dib talks about you all the time. It’s very annoying, actually. He really loves you.”
The alien said it light-heartedly, but the words might as well have been daggers because Membrane felt a sharp pain in his heart. To be told so casually that Dib had loved him, even to the very end, despite how Membrane treated him and looked down on him was like a kick to the gut.
When was the last time he told his kids he loved them?
Membrane realized with an awful, painful sinking feeling that he couldn’t remember. He loved his children. He really, really did, even though he realized now that he never showed it. Or said it. It was like his brain was hardwired to only retain long-term information relevant to his work and nothing else.
Zim, unaware of Membrane’s guilty conscience, was diligently rewiring one of the metal belts on the floor. He clicked the panels of the belt back into place and held it up to compare to Membrane’s much larger figure. The little alien ‘hmm’d and tilted his head from side to side, measuring up the other scientist.
“I’ll have to add a few links if this is to fit you.” He muttered to himself.
Membrane didn’t hear him. He was too deep in his thoughts, trying desperately to remember important things any father should know, but they just slipped through his fingers like fine sand. It was harrowing to realize just how much he missed, how much he ignored when it came to his children. Dib, especially.
How he yearned to hold Dib in his arms again. To hug him. Tell him how much he loved him. How sorry he was. God, he was so sorry. He would denounce science and live as a hermit for the rest of his life if he could just see his little boy one more time. His chest felt tight and his heart burned with the force of his grief.
The silence of the lab didn’t help Membrane’s continued spiral into guilt and despair, the only sound the quiet noises of Zim’s tinkering. One scientist absorbed in his work to achieve the impossible, and the other absorbed in memories that seemed so faded that he yearned to recall.
Just before he could completely lose his composure, Membrane was startled out of his dark thoughts by Zim,
“Membrane-human, after we save the Dib, will he eventually grow to be as tall as you?” Zim asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
It took Membrane a few moments of staring at Zim before the question even registered. The confidence in which Zim said ‘after we save the Dib’ rekindled Membrane’s hope. He forgot in his despair that he would get to see his son again. He would be able to tell him how loved he was, and all the other things Membrane had failed in so far. The scientist shook off the last of his despair like clinging cobwebs in order to answer Zim’s strange question.
“If he stays healthy and stops eating nothing but chips and coffee for a week straight during research binges, then he should grow to be as tall as I am in his adulthood, yes. Maybe even taller, who knows.”
Membrane smiled a little, imagining the amazing, successful adult his son was sure to become one day. Because of this alien’s technology, he would be able to see that happen. Membrane turned his smile down at said alien.
“Why do you ask?” It was an odd question, after all.
Zim waved one hand dismissively. “Nothing, really. Height is just very important in Irken culture and I want the best for Dib. He deserves to tower above his enemiiies. ” Zim oddly dragged out his words near the end there, making his voice sound both sinister and ridiculous.
Membrane nearly barked a laugh at the alien’s strange antics. He was endearing in an annoying sort of way. It was almost alarming how quickly Zim had gone from enemy number one to an ally in such a short time.
“Important in your culture, huh? Then what about you, Zim? how tall will you get?” Membrane asked. He was curious about the alien, of course. He was a scientist after all. He’d like to learn about how different his people were compared to humans.
Zim snorted bitterly, a true feat considering he didn’t have a nose. “I’m fully grown, unfortunately. Zim will never get any taller than this unless your terribly polluted earth water ends up mutating me after too much exposure.” He chuckled and shook his head with a longing sigh.
That made Membrane‘s thoughts grind to a halt. Fully grown? But Zim was absolutely tiny . Sure, so were his children, but they were exactly that. Children . The scientist, intrigued and alarmed, was quick to further question Zim. “Fully grown?” He parroted. “Zim, how old are you, exactly?”
Zim didn’t even look up from his gadget and chirped a chipper, “146!”
Membrane spluttered a bit once the alien’s answer dawned on him, trying to wrap his head around the number Zim had so flippiantly tossed at him as if he were talking about the weather. “And you… go to school with my son?” Membrane choked out. “That doesn’t… seem very appropriate for someone of your age. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with my twelve year old son hanging around with-”
Membrane abruptly snapped his mouth shut, reminding himself that this alien was giving him the means to see his son alive again. Not to mention that Zim seemed to really care about his children a great deal and he had no basis or right to assume that he had ill intentions. “What I mean is, he needs to spend more time developing social skills with kids his own age!” He quickly backtracked in the hopes that Zim wasn’t offended by his near accusation.
The sound of tinkering stopped. Zim stared down at the gadget in his lap silently, shoulders tense. Membrane worried that he did offend Zim, and the feeling only grew worse when the alien slowly looked up at him, and he saw the withering glare he was being given. Anger burned scorchingly in those magenta depths. Then, Zim opened his mouth and said in a low, dangerous voice,
“Dib is thirteen.”
Membrane froze at the unexpected response, and felt his heart drop to his stomach.
Zim continued without pause, “His birthday was seven weeks ago. He told me that turning thirteen was significant for human smeets and he was excited to spend it with his family… but you weren’t there. ”
The anger burning in Zim’s eyes was on behalf of Dib, Membrane realized. Despite how amicable Zim was with him earlier, it was clear to the scientist now that he wasn’t unaware of Membrane’s deplorable parenting skills. The look on the little alien’s face told of fierce protectiveness and a deep grudge, and Membrane wondered how often Dib had to turn to his friend for comfort in his absence. It was incredibly insensitive and rude of him to even imply that Zim was doing wrong by being Dib’s friend, especially considering everything he’s recently learned about the alien. It seems that this creature has been looking after his children for the past several months in his absence. He didn’t know whether to feel grateful or jealous.
After a few beats of tense silence, Zim closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He looked back up at Membrane, and while the anger was still present, he mostly just looked tired.
“I have no right to judge you, especially after you showed me mercy, but let me get one thing straight, Membrane-human.” Zim said flatly, maintaining fierce eye contact. “You take this second chance Zim is so graciously giving you, and you do right by him. Dib and Gaz deserve a good leader. A good father. If you continue treating them the way you always have, there will be consequences.” Zim flashed him a grin that was more a show of his sharp teeth than anything else. “Are we clear?”
Membrane couldn’t even bring himself to feel outraged by the blatant threat. Instead, he was once again lost in his head, replaying Zim’s words over and over. You weren’t there.
If Dib had never died, if he’d never had this rude awakening, how long would he have gone on treating them as if he didn’t care about them? He really did care about and love them, but obviously he didn’t show it nearly as well as he thought he did. At what point would he see that how he was treating them was wrong without something as terrible as death to make him realize? Membrane was now able to recognize how ignorant he was before, and how likely it was that he would remain that way without outside interference.
How long would it take for his kids to finally resent him as he rightfully deserved? It would likely be the moment they weren’t completely dependent on him as their caregiver. Maybe even before then. He was a lousy caregiver, after all. Would they cut all ties with him? Let him age and die a lonely, stubborn old man with no contact?
His kids would go on to change the world, he knew. They were so smart and intuitive. Much more open-minded than he was. They would far surpass him. They could easily leave him in the dust. That thought scared Membrane. He didn’t want to quietly fade into the background, he didn’t want to be forgotten by the world, by his own children. It was what he deserved, yes, but that was one of his greatest fears.
It might be selfish, but he was going to do everything he could to do right by his kids so such a future would never happen.
Zim was watching him with narrowed eyes. One of his antennae was twitching again and his claws tapped an irritated rhythm against the lab floor. The sound drew Membrane’s attention and he realized that he’d been quiet for a while. Zim was waiting for an answer. The Professor drew himself up and looked earnestly down at the tiny alien, expression solemn.
“I understand. I promise I’ll do better.” He swore. “I’ll do it right this time, I swear.”
Zim continued to stare at Membrane with narrow eyed scrutiny for an uncomfortable amount of time after his affirmation. His otherworldly eyes bore into Membrane’s bespectacled ones as if he could see into his mind and heart. Finally, Zim smiled and gave the tall human a nod.
“I’m pleased to hear that. I’ll of course be ‘hanging around’ often to make sure you keep your promise. Just in case.” He said with a hint of a challenge in his voice as he almost glared up at the much taller being.
The message was clear, no matter what Membrane thought of him, Zim was here to stay. Feeling sheepish, the man chuckled nervously and opened his mouth to apologize for his earlier accusatory comment, but before he could, Zim just grinned and laughed at his obvious discomfort.
“Don’t worry yourself, I have no intentions of harming Dib ever again. I have ideas for failsafes to be installed in my PAK to prevent another tragedy. I want to see your son grow to his full potential. He’s already strong and smart, after all he’s bested me, an Irken invader, time and time again. I want to see him crush competition and his enemies beneath his feet! He will take the Earth and the stars by storm with me to guide him, Membrane, just you watch!” Zim crowed passionately, shaking his fists at the ceiling dramatically.
Membrane couldn’t help but agree, even if the way Zim said it sounded a bit more sinister than he’d have liked. It seemed that he talked that way quite often. He also just talked a lot in general. Membrane figured that he liked the sound of his own voice.
“If it’s any consolation,” Zim continued, smiling to himself as he returned his attention to the devices in his lap, “Irkens live for thousands of our home planet rotations. In terms of development, I’m still considered a juvenile. How did Dib like to put it...” Zim trailed off, tapping a claw against his chin thoughtfully. “Ah, yes. I’m ‘less of an ancient wizened being from beyond stars and more of a dumbass reckless teenager with a fake ID.’” Zim chuckled, fondness evident in his tone.
Membrane did feel a little reassurance, but more from the reminder that Zim and Dib were close enough to tease and joke with each other. He was convinced that Dib’s death truly was an accident, but therein lies the issue. It was an accident that Zim couldn’t control, an accident that could very well happen again. Zim said something about failsafes, but considering the alien’s apparent lack of self-preservation when it came to Dib’s well-being- case in point: offering himself up to Membrane for judgement- the scientist was skeptical of how safe these ‘failsafes’ would be for Zim .
He’d have to keep an eye on that if Zim was going to be sticking around. He knew his kids would be devastated if he were to forbid Zim from seeing them, so he wanted to make sure that the alien was safe for them to be around, but he didn’t want it to be at the risk of Zim’s well-being, either. The little guy had grown on Membrane already, and from the short interaction with Gaz he’d seen, he could tell that he was good with them.
The way Zim talked about his ‘programming’ made it sound like his brain wasn’t completely organic, like it was a computer, and every computer could be reprogrammed. Membrane was the world’s leading scientist and inventor, he was sure that he could find a way to help Zim fix his coding issues. He wouldn’t offer that now, though. He needed to focus on getting Dib back. After all, what would be the point if Dib wasn’t there? If this plan failed… Membrane didn’t even let that thought finish. He refused to believe that Dib was gone forever. This had to work. He had so much he needed to do, needed to say to Dib. The man’s resolve hardened and he looked down at the alien diligently working away on the floor.
“So, how long until we can start running simulations?” Membrane asked, voice sure and strong in the silence of the lab.
Zim clicked the last panel on the belts back into place and grinned wide. “Right now, actually!” He exclaimed. He deftly jumped to his feet and held up the two long devices. “I’ve recalibrated them. I’m sure they will keep our cells from dying or our molecules from being torn apart when we enter the portal!” He said it with a proud, if albeit deranged, grin.
The possible threat of imminent death didn’t even phase Membrane. He’d done his fair share of dubious science and nearly died because of it on multiple occasions. Nothing could stop him from trying to get his son back now, not even death by molecular decay.
Membrane returned Zim’s grin with one just as maniacal and gave a firm nod. The warmth of hope in his chest stoked into a roaring flame of determination. Not even the scientific excitement of being the first human to time travel could outmatch the sheer desperate joy he felt at the thought of seeing Dib again.
“Lets get my son back.”