Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Professor Membrane had never wanted children. They were all her idea. But the kids were there, and he was obligated to squeeze the minimal requirements of parenthood into his busy schedule. The kids understood how important his career was. They were intelligent and capable of caring for themselves. Yet whenever he was away from home for more than a couple of days, they would always ask when they would get to see him in person. Those kids didn’t seem to understand that billions of other people needed him just as much.

Still, as a tradition, Membrane took half a day off every Christmas Eve to personally deliver presents to his son and daughter. There was one Christmas Eve, however, when no children came to greet him when he walked through the door. The entire first floor was silent.

“Son! Daughter!” Membrane called up the stairs. “I have Christmas presents to show how much I love you!”

The lack of response made Membrane frown under his collar. He set the gifts on the coffee table and climbed the stairs. Those kids knew he would be home tonight, so where were they?

As Membrane reached the top of the stairs, the lights flickered off. He sighed in exasperation and turned to go back down, but paused when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Son?”

Membrane turned toward the hallway and saw something that made him reel backward and trip over the top step. He caught himself on the railing and stared in utter shock. It was the last person he expected to see. She was glowing and transparent from her violet ponytail to her calf-high boots - but other than that, she was the same as the day he met her.

“Enza?”

Enza nodded and spoke in her soft, dry voice. “You’re taking this much better than I thought.” A hint of a smile played on her pale lips as she stepped toward him.

Membrane screamed, spun around, and ran down the stairs, only to see the Ghost Enza appear at the bottom.

“That’s closer to the reaction I expected,” she said with a little nod. “I think this will be easier if I tell you this is a dream.”

Membrane gaped at her, too stunned for coherent speech. Was it a dream? It was the only thing that made sense. This couldn’t be real because ghosts weren’t real. But there was nothing dreamlike about his pounding heart and sweaty hands.

“In this particular dream, I’m the Ghost of your Christmas past. I get to show you your memories.” The corners of Enza’s mouth quirked up, and she reached her gloved hand toward him. “Come on, I only have an hour.”

“But-But dreams don’t last that long! Is this a dream or not?!”

“Sure. Yes, it’s a dream. Dreams don’t make sense, right?”

Membrane swallowed, trying to hang onto logical, rational thought. “There is an old method to test this so I can know for sure.” He pinched his arm. “That hurt, so I’m not dreaming. The only other scientific explanation is that I’ve gone insane!” He clutched his head in both hands. “Oh god, what should I do?!”

“Mem, you’re not-”

“I know! I’ll see a psychiatrist and have him or her prescribe some medication. That will make it all better!”

Turning his back on the apparition, he grabbed his smartphone out of his coat pocket. He gritted his teeth when he saw the dark screen and pressed the power button, hoping the battery hadn’t run out. The ghost hand grabbed his wrist, and he jerked away from it.

“You can’t medicate your problems, Mem. They have nothing to do with mental illness,” said Enza. “Although it couldn’t hurt to see a good counselor after Christmas. But for now, I need to show you your memories. It’s for the good of our family.”

His eyes met hers. “How can hallucinations be good for our family?”

“Come with me and you’ll find out.” She smiled and took his hand. Although her hand was transparent, it felt solid. He didn’t pull away as she led him back up the stairs and into his bedroom, where the lived-in smell of sweat and pizza faded to dust. She pulled up the vinyl blinds on the picture window and pushed the double panes outward, letting in a blast of biting night wind. Membrane yanked his arm, but Enza kept hold of his hand with a steel grip that belied her thin, transparent frame. She climbed onto the sill, and Membrane started to panic.

“What are you doing?! I can’t jump out a window, no matter how insane I’ve become! I’m too important to die!”

Enza placed her other hand on his. If it was meant to be comforting, it failed.

“Two things: One, we’re not high enough to kill you, and two, we’re not going to jump out the window.”

“We’re not?” asked Membrane, somewhat relieved.

“No.” A smile split her smooth face. “We’re going to fly out.”

Suddenly Membrane felt weightless, as though he had stepped into his antigravity chamber.

“See? We’re floating. You like floating, right?” Then she whisked him out the window, into the freezing air. Too scared to speak or even think straight, Membrane had no choice but to zip along with Enza over the streets, buildings and lights. They flew between the skyscrapers, straight toward Membrane Labs. Then Enza stopped in front of the window on the side of the spherical antigravity chamber at the top of the building.

“Strange, I was just thinking about this,” Membrane muttered weakly. He peered into the window and received another metaphorical smack in the gob.

“But…But that’s me.”

“Of course it’s you. Didn’t I tell you I would show you your memories?”

Membrane watched himself drift around the chamber, along with an Enza that was very much alive. She laughed as her goggles started to float off her head. Three other scientists also sailed around the room, one of them using a fan to propel himself.

“I must already be locked in a padded room,” Membrane said to himself as much as his dead wife. “Trapped inside my poor, insane mind.” He shook his head.

Enza sighed. “Just because you don't understand something doesn't mean you're insane.” She tapped her finger on the glass. “Let’s go inside.”

She opened the window - although it was not made to open - and pulled him inside. The air was warm and dry, crackling with static electricity.

“Almost ten already?” said one of the scientists. “I told my kids I’d be home before their bedtime. Goodbye, professors. Happy holidays!” The scientist floated toward the handholds mounted on the wall, then swung to the exit at the base of the sphere. The other two scientists began to excuse themselves, too, and soon Membrane and Enza were left alone, party debris suspended around them like bubbles.

The live Enza turned to past Membrane. “Are we that boring?”

“Of course not! There must be another explanation for their early departure.” He tapped his chin through his collar. “Perhaps Christmas Eve isn’t the best day to schedule a company party.”

“That’s a good point. I should have thought of it myself. Most people go home for the holiday. But this place is my home most of the time.”

“I feel the same way!”

Enza glanced around the room. “I suppose we should start cleaning up.”

“Wait! I must give you your present first!”

She put her hands on her hips. “Why? It doesn’t have something to do with cleaning, does it?”

“No, that isn’t what I meant.” Membrane fished in his pocket. “Here it is!” He produced a tiny black box, and Enza sucked in an appreciative gasp.

“Is this what I think it is?” She accepted the box and opened it, revealing a large diamond set on a simple white gold band.

“Do you like it? I made the stone myself here in the lab.”

“Oh, Mem,” she whispered. Her large brown eyes sparkled as much as the gem she held. “Does this mean you want to get married?”

“It most certainly does!”

“Just as I suspected! I did wonder why you ordered that liquid graphite. Of course I’ll marry you!” She tugged off her left glove and slid the ring on her slender finger. Then she tenderly unbuttoned Membrane’s collar and kissed him, and he wrapped his arms around her.

Watching the scene, Membrane remembered the sweet taste of that kiss, like the cherry candy she’d been eating. He had never loved anyone the way he loved Enza. He closed his eyes, both to shut out the memory and shut in the tears. If only their lives could have stayed that way forever, just the two of them. But it was foolish to dwell on one of the few things he couldn’t change.

“You can have that again,” Enza whispered in his ear. Membrane felt no breath, only coldness that sent a tingle down his spine. “Not in the same way, perhaps, but you can love again. There is hope.”

She whisked him out of the antigravity chamber and across town, back to where they started. As the Ghost alighted in front of their house, Membrane saw that it was outlined in strings of multicolored lights, and a ten-foot inflatable snowglobe hummed in the front yard.

They stepped into the house, and Membrane saw their younger selves standing in the living room. His wife’s tacky Christmas decorations coated the inside of the house as well: artificial tree, singing mistletoe, and cinnamon scented candles. Their children had never shown interest in that sort of nonsense. In a weird way, Membrane wished they had.

“Let me give you your present first,” said live Enza, grabbing his hand and strolling into the kitchen.

“This looks familiar,” said present Membrane as Ghost Enza pulled him after them.

“Does this mean I finally get to see what you’ve been working on in the basement?” asked past Membrane.

“That‘s right! Close your eyes, dear.”

“I am closing them.”

“How am I supposed to know that?” She smirked at him.

“Just take my word for it.”

“Oh, all right.” Both versions of the couples descended the basement stairs.

“Okay, open your eyes.”

Membrane gazed at his shiny new lab. There were so many devices and monitors that the concrete walls were completely hidden. “I love this, Enza! It’s a fine addition to our house.”

“I’m glad you like it. I converted the old water heater into chemical separation apparatus, see? It’s oversized, but functional.” She went on describing the equipment, Membrane prompting her with questions here and there.

“Isn’t it wonderful? We’ll be able to work full time and stay home with the baby.” She rubbed her stomach, although it was still flat.

“That will be quite an adjustment,” said Membrane, taking a sudden interest in the counter-sized console in the center of the room. “I must admit I’m still trying to get used to the idea of being a father.”

She squeezed his arm. “You have plenty of time to do that. And I’m sure you’ll start feeling like a father when we watch the 3-D video of the baby.” She grinned. “I can’t wait.”

Membrane felt the Ghost tightened her grip and sweep him upstairs. They stopped in the living room. Past Membrane stood in front of the shiny tree with live Enza, who held their infant son. Membrane’s throat tightened when he realized this was the last Christmas before the construction accident took Enza’s life.

“We have to take our first family Christmas photo before we open presents. Here, Daddy, hold Dibby while I set up the camera.”

Past Membrane furrowed his brow as Enza placed his son in his arms. “Will you stop calling me that? I’m not your father.”

“No, but you are a father. And Dibby needs to learn what to call you.” Enza unfolded the tripod and set the camera on top. “Okay, get ready to smile. Oh, wait, honey, could you unbutton your collar? Just for this picture?”

“Unbutton my collar?” asked a scandalized Membrane. “I’ve had my collar up for every photo since I was three!”

Enza stuck out her lower jaw. “I just wanted to prove to our co-workers that you have a face. But if that’s the way you want it…” She strode back beside Membrane and threw her arms around his shoulders. “I guess I’ll be the only one who looks happy.” She flashed a fake smile at the camera, and the camera flashed back.

Re-watching the scene, Membrane felt a twinge of regret at his lack of Christmas spirit that year. But before he could voice his thoughts, Ghost Enza tugged his hand again, leading him out to the front yard, where his past self was setting up the posts for the electric fence. It was daytime now, cloudy and mild for December. The scent of rain - or possibly sleet - hung over the bare brown grass. Membrane heard his son shout from the front door behind him, and he turned to see his pale face peek out. He appeared to be eight or nine years old.

“Why did we skip to this Christmas?” asked Membrane.

Enza shrugged her narrow shoulders. “Because frankly, most of your Christmases were boring.”

“Dad! Hey Dad!”

Past Membrane kept his eyes on his work as he replied, “What is it, son?”

“I think your teleporter still has a few bugs in it.”

“What kind of bugs, son?” His head suddenly snapped up. “Wait a minute! Did you try to use my teleporter?”

The boy glanced away. “Yeah. You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

“Oh, it’s quite all right, son!” said Membrane, waving his hand. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re finally showing an interest in real Science!”

His son brightened. “Yeah, real science is cool sometimes.”

Membrane set his tools in his case and walked over to the little person who suddenly didn’t seem quite so strange. “Tell me, what did you try to teleport?”

“I used a - a toy.” The child hesitated, and Membrane realized he was choosing his words carefully, although he couldn’t fathom why. “I set it to teleport to Washington, but the fly that’s been buzzing around the house flew into the teleporter right when I pressed the go button!”

Membrane chuckled. “My goodness, it really does have some bugs! What happened then?”

“The teleporter made this clacking noise and blue sparks flew out of the top, and the toy’s head switched onto the fly’s body. I have no idea what happened to the fly’s head.”

“Diiiib!”

The boy’s eyes grew huge, and Membrane peered through the door to see his daughter stalking out of the kitchen, clutching a headless doll.

Membrane pointed. “Is that the-”

“Toy that the neighbors’ dog got a hold of?” His son interrupted. “Yes.”

The girl shot him a suspicious glare. “I found Bitey on the kitchen table.”

“I put it there after I found the dog eating it in the back yard. I pulled part of the doll out of his mouth, and I took him back to the neighbors’ house. I told them Dad was putting in an electric fence to keep their dog from digging into our yard.” He folded his arms as if that closed the matter.

His sister opened one eye to stare at the doll. “Bitey doesn’t look like he’s been bitten.” She opened her other eye. “He looks…torn.”

“Don’t worry, daughter.” Membrane bent over his son to pat her on the head. “I’ll buy you a new doll.”

Gaz shrank down under his hand like a harassed cat. “I don’t want another doll, I want Bitey.” Her accusing eyes snapped back to her brother. “Are you sure it was the dog?”

He spread his hands. “Hey, I know not to mess with your stuff.”

She studied him for a moment. “You’re right, you do know better.” Then, raising the doll higher, she said, “Bitey will be avenged.” She stormed back into the kitchen and slammed the back door.

“So, you were saying about the teleporter?” Membrane asked, his voice absent of irony.

“Oh. Well,” Dib faltered, “I already told you pretty much everything that happened.”

“Then let’s go downstairs and have a look at it.”

Dib hesitated, turning his head and grimacing. Then Membrane heard it. A whimper, coming from behind the house. Then there came a disturbing thud and a sharp yelp. Past Membrane walked by his son, ignoring the violent noises.

It was hard for Membrane to decide which was more unsettling: Gaz’s apparent animal abuse or his own blind ignorance to what he’d seen and heard. But a big part of him still didn’t want to believe it. How could his own little girl hurt someone else’s pet over something so petty? He would have to get an answer from her. He realized, too, that Dib lied to his sister about the doll. But if he had told her the truth, would she have done to him what she did to the dog?

Membrane turned away from the memory and tried to run toward the driveway, but Enza held him back.

“Let go, Enza!” He brought his free hand up to grab her arm - and gasped as his fingers swiped through it as if it were air, though her hand felt solid around his wrist.

“How are you doing this?”

Enza grinned. “We Spirits can make our-”

“Never mind, I forgot that there is no logical explanation! I will never get used to being insane. I’ve got to restore my sanity, not just for myself, but for my children!” He raised his arm to the sky in a dramatic gesture.

Enza’s face shone, smiling as warmly as possible for a phantom. “Do you really mean that?”

“Of course I do!”

“Great! You understood the lesson much sooner than I guessed. I planned on showing you one more memory after this, but now it seems unnecessary.”

Membrane lowered his arm. “Is there something else about the kids that escaped my attention?”

“Yes, a lot of things,” said Enza, her smile fading. “But I have time for just one more.”

Membrane took a deep breath to steel himself. “I think I’d better take a look.”

Enza rose into the air, and as she flew Membrane across town, the sky grew dark, the clouds dimly reflecting the city lights. She whisked him through the icy wind to his lab, where they found his past self in one of the smaller rooms, working on his laser guided electric chainsaw experiment. As he was about to start up the chainsaw, the monitor on his desk lit up with his son’s image. Dib looked like he’d seen better days, to put it mildly. His right eye was blackened, his ears had ragged chunks torn out, and his arm was in a sling.

“Ah, son. You’re just in time to witness my amazing new experiment! If it works, it could be bigger than Super Toast!”

Dib’s shoulders slumped. “Don’t you want to know how my battle with Santa turned out?”

“Santa?” Membrane’s gloves squeaked as he tightened his grip on the chainsaw. “Of course I want to know! Did you defeat the jolly fat menace?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t easy. I flew your mech to the north pole and shot him with the plasma cannon, but it just made him grow bigger - as big as the mech!”

“I was afraid of that,” Membrane said gravely.

The boy went on to describe how he unleashed all of the mech’s missiles, wounding Santa and causing him to shrink somehow. Santa was small enough to fit inside one of the mech’s rocket hands, so Dib launched him into space. Both Membranes listened attentively, and when Dib was finished, the past Membrane put his fist over his heart.

“Son, you have avenged me. I’m proud of you.”

Dib gaped at him as though he’d just reversed his stance on Bigfoot. “You’re proud of me?”

“Of course I am. You destroyed my sworn enemy!”

“I can't believe it!” The boy grinned. “What is this feeling? Is this what it feels like to be really happy?”

“You should be happy, son. Thanks to you, no child will be ever buried in socks for Christmas again!”

Dib’s face darkened. “Yeah, well the crowd up at the North Pole wasn’t happy about me shooting Santa into orbit. About ten of them jumped me as soon as I-”

“Professor!” One of the two interns working that holiday burst into the room. “The radioactive cyborg kitten escaped!”

“Not again!” Membrane clutched his head with one hand. “We have to make sure it doesn’t leave the lab, or it could bring disaster unlike any the metropolitan area has never seen!”

“Dad, I-”

“We’ll talk later, son.”

Still gripping the chainsaw, Membrane tore out of the room after the intern, calling, “Get the milk!”

Enza lifted present-day Membrane into the air then, and they zoomed back to the house, which was as dark and empty as it had been when the Ghost first appeared.

“Our son never did tell me about how he…got his injuries that day.” Membrane rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture more characteristic of Dib. “To tell the truth, I didn’t really listen to the part about him getting jumped until just now.”

Enza gave him a sad little smile. “That’s why you need to spend more time with him and Gaz. Remember, they’re our legacy, whatever they decide to do.” She squeezed his hand, and this time Membrane was reassured in spite of her coldness. Then she let go. “Goodbye, Mem. I’ll see you someday soon.”

Membrane felt a dull, empty ache in his heart. As weird as the circumstances were, he hated for her to leave. But they had to part ways if he wanted his life to return to normal. “Goodbye, Enza.” He didn’t even want to ask her to clarify her second statement.

Her smile became more cheerful. “By the way, I should mention that two more Spirits will visit you tonight - or this morning, I mean.”

Membrane waved his arms in front of him. “One Spirit is enough!”

“You know, I think you’re right. Seeing me again might be enough to change your heart. But the other Spirits are already set on coming. It’s out of my hands. Sorry, honey.” She swooped forward and gave him an chilly kiss on the cheek. “Take care.” She blinked out of sight, leaving Membrane in darkness.

Chapter Text

Membrane stood in the dark silence for a few moments, trying to make sense of everything he'd witnessed. He thought it must have been a hallucination, but the memories were not fabrications of a deranged mind. Though he'd viewed himself from the outside, the scenes matched what he'd experienced. He put his hand on his forehead. He needed to see a psychiatrist in the worst way.

In the dim light of the streetlamps shining through the windows, Membrane walked to the giant power switch on the living room wall. He pulled the switch, and the lights came on, accompanied by a dramatic fire-up noise.

"Finally, I can reestablish my normal routine!" Like his son, Membrane had a habit of talking to himself when he was alone, although he would never admit it to his employees.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." The voice sounded calm and rusty. Membrane spun to take in the sight of a five-foot robot snowman wearing a two-foot stovepipe hat. Not just that, but the living room was suddenly filled with traditional Christmas decorations: wreaths, red bows, candy canes, and heaps of loose tinsel.

Membrane pressed his hand over his goggles, hoping that this new vision would fade away when he uncovered them.

"Surprised you, didn't I?"

Of course, covering his eyes did nothing to stop the voice.

"I'm Mr. Slushy, the Ghost of Christmas present!"

Membrane uncovered his eyes and stared at the snowman. Unlike Enza, it seemed solid, its metal joints whirring as it moved.

"You don't look like a ghost. You could have been built by my employees," Membrane said hopefully.

"Well, I can go through walls." Mr. Slushy smiled with the tip of his plastic tongue sticking out. "I'll show you."

He pivoted on his axis and glided through one of the walls. Then he poked his head back out. "You don't know very much about ghosts, do you?" he said, winking his beady eye.

Membrane narrowed his eyes at the robot Ghost. "I don't want any more Ghosts in my house! All I want is to find professional help and my kids - not necessarily in that order."

Mr. Slushy fully emerged from the wall. "I know where your children are." He winked again. "They happen to be in the same place right now."

Membrane regarded him with an uncertain frown. "Why do you keep winking?"

"You humans find it endearing."

"I find it insincere."

Mr. Slushy's single eyebrow lowered. "Do you want to see your children or not?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then stop questioning my mannerisms."

Membrane sighed. "Fine. Nothing makes sense anyway, so what does it matter?"

"That's the spirit!" said the snowman with a creaky smile. "Let's begin our magical journey to a whimsical place known as Zim's base."

"Zim? Isn't he my son's foreign classmate?"

Mr. Slushy smiled wider. "The very same." He scooped some of the tinsel off the floor and dropped it on Membrane's head.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Membrane, brushing his hand through his single hair spike.

The robot's mouth tightened into a straight line.

Membrane sighed. "Forget it."

"I was going to tell you anyway. I just hate interruptions." Mr. Slushy's face turned sunny once more. "This is magic tinsel. No one will be able to see or hear you as long as you have some on you. Except me, of course. This way we'll have no trouble sneaking into Zim's base."

"But why…"

"Just trust me."

Trust a robot snowman Ghost. Membrane's mind spun. Maybe he was already locked in the Crazy House and his kids were watching him through a one-way mirror. The thought was more than a little disheartening.

"Come with me now, I'll show you the way."

The robot grabbed his hand as Enza had and pulled him to the door, opening it for Membrane's benefit. Instead of flying, Mr. Slushy glided as though he were following a hidden track. Membrane strode briskly to keep up. He watched the houses decrease in size and condition until Mr. Slushy led him into a little cul-de-sac. At the end was a thin house that appeared to have been designed by a seven year old, squeezed between two older houses as an afterthought. The strangest thing about the house, though, was that it emitted a green glow that was almost, well, alien.

Membrane winced at the eyesore. "This image could only be the product of a diseased mind!"

"You're probably right," said Mr. Slushy. "The house at the end of the street was made by Zim, the green nuclear mole."

"Of course it was," Membrane said weakly.

"And like Zim, there's more to this house than meets the eye."

The inside of the house was just as bizarre as the outside, and smelled of garbage and disinfectant. Mr. Slushy waved his hand over the couch, which slid aside to reveal a rectangular panel. They stepped onto it, and Membrane felt his stomach press into his lungs as it fell perhaps hundreds of feet. It halted to open up to a metallic blue room that was about 50 feet wide, and much cleaner than the upper portion of the house. Most of the space was occupied by two cannons aimed directly at each other. Membrane guessed they were made to emit high-speed particle streams, similar to the super hadron collider.

"Interesting," commented Membrane. "But where are my kids?"

"Follow me," said Mr. Slushy, gliding between the two cannons.

"Like I have a choice."

As they approached the cannons, Membrane heard his son's voice. "Can I get one thing straight? Do you want to conquer Earth or destroy it?"

"Eh, I feel like destroying it today." The second voice was hoarse and familiar. Dib's foreign friend. But Mr. Slushy was right: there was much more to Zim than he thought. For as the two children came into view, Membrane saw that Zim had deep magenta eyes and elbowed antennae where his hair should have been.

"It would seem as if my addled mind views Zim as the alien my son describes," said Membrane, pressing his finger to his chin.

"No, that's what he really looks like," said Mr. Slushy.

Membrane chose to ignore this statement.

Zim put his hand on the control panel in front of him. "When I press this button, my AMAZING particle cannons will shoot streams of subatomic particles into each other at near-light speed. It will cause an explosion so destructive that it will create mini black holes deep in this FILTHY planet, destroying it from the inside! MUHAHAHAHA! Oh, and your camera will be destroyed too," he added, pointing at the camera in Dib's hand.

So it was a hadron collider. And it sounded like Zim wanted to use it not for Science, but for tearing the planet apart. But why?

Dib raised an eyebrow. "Mini black holes? Come on, no invention could do that, not even an alien one."

Membrane stepped closer to the two boys. "Actually, it's theoretically-"

"You doubt the amazing ZIM?" interrupted the green child.

"They can't hear you, remember?" said Mr. Slushy.

Membrane put his fists on his hips. "If you say so, metal man. How can I get them to hear me, then? And where is my daughter? You said my children were in the same place!"

"She's in Zim's base; she just hasn't found this room yet."

"Whaaaat is this arbitrary skepticism!? I turned you into baloney and you don't think I can create a mini black hole!?" Zim continued, raising his antennae.

Dib scowled. "That was different!"

"Oh really? I guess the human worm babies on this planet turn into food products all the time, eh?"

There was a reluctant pause. "Not usually," he admitted.

"I'll grind you into lunchmeat if you don't give me my batteries, Dib!" came a high-pitched voice from the other side of the cannons.

"Gaz!" yelled Dib and Membrane at the same time.

"Told you so," said Mr. Slushy.

Gaz stalked toward her brother, and Membrane barely perceived smoke rising from her head. "There were four double As in the junk drawer this morning, and now they're gone. I know you took them for your camera. You can't blame this one on the neighbors' dog."

Dib backed away. "My camera doesn't take double As! Did you even try to look anywhere else for them?"

"I looked everywhere!"

Dib dared to roll his eyes. "Obviously you didn't look everywhere, otherwise you would have found them."

"Don't be a smartass. I haven't found them because you stole them!" She lunged at his camera, and Dib dodged to the side.

"Gaz, stop! I'm recording!"

Zim put his hands on his hips. "Your bickering bores me. Only stupid hyoomans would think primitive batteries are more interesting than ZIM's ingenious black hole particle cannon!"

"I hate to admit it, but he's got a point. Except for the stupid part," said Dib as scrambled away from Gaz.

"You just don't get it," Gaz growled. "My batteries ran out before I reached the save point. I have to destroy the demon queen again! Pizzapolis is still enslaved because of you."

Dib stopped and gave her a strange look, like he was seeing her for the first time. "You do know it's a game."

"Demon queen, eh?" Zim spoke up, rubbing his chin. "She might be a threat to my mission."

Dib smacked his forehead. Gaz took advantage of his distraction to snatch the camera from his grasp.

Membrane watched the scene unfold in a trance, but the moment Gaz grabbed the camera, he remembered why he was there. He pulled away from Mr. Slushy, who actually let go of his hand, and marched to his daughter.

"Daughter, don't grab things from your brother without his permission! You should have learned that in pre-school. And don't - wait a minute, I forgot you can't hear me." He turned to Mr. Slushy, and before the Ghost said anything, he remembered. "The tinsel!" He brushed off his hair, shoulders and arms. Several silver strands settled on the floor. "There, I think I got it all. Daughter, can you hear me? Gaz?"

But his daughter still didn't respond. She threw the camera on the floor.

Membrane turned to the snowman and spread his hands. "How do I undo the spell? …Did I really say that?"

"You had the right idea," said the Ghost with a nod. "You must still have some tinsel on you somewhere."

Membrane ruffled his hair wildly.

Meanwhile, Gaz was so thunderous that she seemed to levitate a few inches. She grabbed Dib's collar in her fist. "How dare you not have the right kind of batteries!"

"Enough! This ends now!" Zim's finger hovered over a button on the panel.

"But you'll be destroyed too!" said Dib.

"What? Oh yeah. I knew that! I was just trying to get you to stop arguing."

"I'll take it from here, Zim," said Membrane. He faced his daughter. "I don't care if you can't see or hear me, Gaz. I won't let you throw a tantrum like a spoiled two year-old. I'm taking you and your brother home, and we're going to have a very merry Christmas together as a family!" Fortunately for Membrane, the kids were small for their age: small enough for Membrane to hoist them up in his arms.

"What the hell?!" Gaz flailed her arms and legs.

"What are you doing, Zim?!" yelled Dib, thrashing as much as Gaz.

Zim stared at them with eyes as big as footballs. "I'm not doing anything!"

Mr. Slushy held his arm up as if checking a watch he didn't have. "I'd love to stay and watch our nuclear mole friend, but my time is almost up."

"Go then, I'm sure you have other people to scare," Membrane snapped, though most of his irritation was due to Gaz slipping out of his arm. He clutched the fabric on the back of her dress and held her away from his body. He hustled to the lift, not sure how much longer he could carry them. His arms were already tiring.

"Yes, I do," Mr. Slushy said, as matter-of-fact as ever. "I have to be at Bloaties in fifteen minutes to help the robots rehearse their holiday song. But Professor, when you meet the next Spirit you'll wish you were back with old Mr. Slushy." The Ghost gave Membrane an infuriating wink and glided through the wall before he could protest.

"It feels like an invisible person or thing is lifting us," observed Dib. "Maybe it's an alien with a cloaking device!"

"Well it's not abducting me tonight!" Gaz swung a punch but missed her invisible target.

Membrane wanted to get home before the next Spirit came, so he jumped inside the lift and stared perplexedly at the buttons, which were unlabeled. With a mental shrug, he kicked the panel. The lift shot up, pushing Membrane's lungs into his stomach before halting at a room with a huge monitor on one wall. Membrane scrunched his brow. How would he get to the house level from here? Before he could wonder any more, the lift shot up again, this time stopping at a smaller room lined with empty cylindrical tanks. Oh. Membrane had hit all the buttons, so it was stopping at every floor. Not his brightest moment. How many more floors were there?

Five, as it turned out. Membrane staggered through the living room toward the front door, his arms feeling like they were going to drop out of their sockets. He wondered how he would open the door without setting a kid down. But it opened on its own. Then the lights blacked out.

"Now what?" asked Dib.

Membrane lurched out the door, even though his gut said he wouldn't make it before the next Spirit came. His gut was right, but not even his most intuitive organ could have guessed the horror that awaited.

Chapter Text

As Membrane stumbled out of Zim's yard, he saw a giant, silent shape moving toward him. It was taller than the houses, its legs thicker than street lamps. He knew this must be the Ghost of Christmas Future. But it looked even less like a ghost than the snowman did. At least Mr. Slushy sort of resembled a human figure. This Spirit was a monster. No, worse than that. There was no mistaking the white beard and red hat.

Santa.

Fear paralyzed Membrane until Gaz kicked the back of his knee. He started to collapse and caught himself, but he dropped Gaz and Dib. They landed roughly on the concrete, got on their feet and ran toward the main road. The Spirit stood with its six legs arched over the entrance to the cul-de-sac. Membrane yelled for them to stop, but they darted underneath the candy-striped legs and turned the corner. He doubted they could see the creature, and the creature took no notice of them. It jumped forward with surprising speed and angled its head to stare down at him with its bulging eyes. Membrane was too scared to even scream. His heart hammered as if it were trying to escape from his frozen body.

Then the Spirit began to shrink until it was ten feet tall instead of forty. It still towered over him, but it was less terrifying, so Membrane worked up the courage to speak.

“Are you the Ghost of Christmas Future?”

The entity nodded.

Membrane’s bravery waxed, or perhaps it was just a tinge of mental illness that caused him to say, “So, my sworn enemy has come for revenge.”

The Spirit closed its maw and shook its head.

“What, then? You’re going to show me my future Christmases and then you’ll go away and there’ll be no more Spirits?”

The monster roared. Membrane didn’t know if it meant yeas or no, but it sure was ticked off about it. Then the cul-de-sac wavered, and suddenly they were inside a house he’d never seen before. At least the creature didn't grab his hand.

“How did we - oh, never mind,” said Membrane, resigned to this spiritual journey. “Whose house are we in?”

The Santa Ghost pointed its candy cane arm at a small table where a few children were eating ham and turkey. One of the girls had pale lavender hair swept back from her face, and wore a matching striped dress.

“I still don’t see what the big deal is,” she said to the girl next to her. “Everyone hated him. He was pretty crazy, you know. And annoying. He had it coming.”

If it were possible for someone’s blood to boil and freeze at the same time, it happened to Membrane. She couldn’t be talking about Dib, could she? But why else would the Spirit show him this conversation?

“I know what you mean, Zi,” said the other girl, “but the adults are afraid the same thing might happen to a kid they like.” She shrugged. “Oh well. Anyone wanna play Apples to Apples?”

Then the room shimmered and disappeared, and Membrane found himself in a familiar cemetery, at the burial plot across from the mausoleum, under the big maple. Moonlight illuminated the headstone that marked Enza’s grave. Eight feet in front of it, and a little to the right, was a new, smaller stone. Three engraved letters confirmed his fear.

DIB.

Shaking from more than the cold, Membrane brushed his fingers over the word. The dates below told him his son would die on December 4^th next year.

He swallowed. “This hasn’t happened yet. How will this happen? Is there any way to prevent this tragedy?”

Membrane looked up at the Santa creature to see if it would do anything besides point or roar. The Spirit did not move or utter a sound, so Membrane answered the second question on his own.

“There must be a way. Why else would you show me this future?” Feeling somewhat reassured, he added, “Show me what happened, Spirit…Or what will have happened.” He clenched his fists in frustration. “This is why I hate time travel.”

Before he finished his sentence, the graveyard wavered and changed to a deserted city street. Gaz strode past him, and Membrane saw that she was a good three inches taller, and had lost some of the baby fat in her face.

He followed her to the door of a run-down Bloaties Carry-Out. When they stepped inside, Membrane immediately knew something was amiss - besides the Santa Spirit standing behind him, that is. The pizza place smelled musty, and it was almost as cold as the air outside. Gaz paused and glanced around, quirking an eyebrow. Then she stepped up to the counter, where a cashier stood with a frozen smile.

“I want a medium pepperoni,” said Gaz.

There was no response from the cashier. Gaz ground her teeth and spoke slowly. “The medi-um pepper-oni pizza that is in the commercial. On TV. It’s supposed to be three dol-lars.”

The cashier continued to smile. Then he blew up.

Gaz threw her arms over her head and dropped to a crouch. Membrane flung himself over her to protect her. But after a few seconds he realized the explosion had been small. It had singed Gaz’s hair, and a lot of smoke filled the room, but that was the extent of the damage. The cashier - which Membrane knew for certain was a dummy - still stood upright. Membrane straightened, and Gaz ran to the door and pulled at the handle. But it was stuck tight. Laughter pierced the smoke, maniacal and raspy as it rose and fell in pitch.

“Zim,” said Gaz. “Let me out of here NOW, or I’ll-” her voice broke into coughs.

“Did you like the commercial I made, Gaz-thing?” Zim’s shadowy form jumped onto the counter.

She spun around to glower at him. “You made that? Just to bring me here? This isn’t even a real Bloaties, is it?”

He cackled. “You’re as gullible as your sibling.”

“Zim, I swear, if you don’t open the door this second, I’ll tear off your stupid antennas and hang you with them.” She took two steps toward him, fists raised.

He folded his arms. “Over your dead body.” The laughter was gone from his voice. He turned his head to the side and shouted, “Robots! Capture the human, but don’t kill her yet.”

Several robots sprang out from behind the counter, clacking to the floor in front of Gaz. Each was the size of a medium dog, but their build was insectoid. Membrane moved in front of Gaz to shield her, but one of the robots jumped through him as if it or he were a hologram. What had the Spirit done to him, to make him intangible? Membrane didn't have time to question it further as he watched the robot seize the back of Gaz's collar with its red pincers. She unzipped her coat and slipped out. Her spiked boot kicked the glass, shattering it, but another robot caught her foot in its vice-like grip. As she fought to free her leg, a third robot grabbed her arm. Membrane reached for her arm to help pull it free in one last desperate attempt, but his hand passed through it. He could only watch helplessly as two more robots caught her other arm and leg. They held each of her limbs stretched out.

Zim hopped down from the counter and marched over to Gaz. The girl strained at her mechanical bonds, howling with rage.

“Let me go! I’m NOT Dib, you IDIOT! I’m not going to tell anyone you’re an alien! I don’t even CARE!”

His antennae twitched. “No. Only Dib cared.” He clenched his fists. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“What do you think, stink-beast?!” Zim burst out. “Why did you kill Dib?!”

Membrane’s jaw dropped. It couldn’t be true. It could never happen. Never.

“It was an accident.” Gaz coughed. “What do you care anyway?”

“Hey! ZIM is asking the questions, Gaz-monster! You say it was an accident, but those were YOUR weapons, and YOU were the only one with him when he died.”

“They weren’t weapons. They were malfunctioning toys.”

“TOYS?! Toys with KNIVES?! Those were toys as much as my robots are.” He waved his clawed hand around the room. “Eight robots. The number that killed the Dib. Let the punishment fit the crime, isn’t that what you humans say?”

Gaz’s eyes opened wide, and Membrane realized this was the first time he’d seen her afraid.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen. Believe me.” There was a hint of a plea in her voice.

“LIAR! You built those weapons to get revenge on the Dib for some petty offense, didn’t you? Do not deny it!”

The robots strained at her arms and legs.

Gaz gritted her teeth. “I didn’t build them. I ordered them from the kid’s room defense website.”

Zim narrowed his eyes. “Even if you didn’t build them, why did you have these things?”

“To keep Dib out of my room.”

“But Dib wasn’t in your room when the robots stabbed him, was he?”

Gaz coughed. “He was in the living room.”

“Aha! Why did your robots leave the room they were programmed to defend? Answer Zim!”

She glanced away, silent for a moment.

“Tell me the whole truth about what happened, stink-beast, and I might let you live.”

“Okay,” Gaz growled, though she still looked apprehensive. “I really did order the robots to keep Dib out of my room. But later I started using them whenever my normal threats weren’t enough to control him.” Her eyes resumed their customary squint. “Then on the fourth, we were supposed to have family night. Dad has to work today, so we were going to celebrate Christmas early. But Dib didn’t come home when he was supposed to. He was out trying to stop one of your stupid so-called evil plans.”

Zim ground his zipper teeth, but otherwise he didn't rise to the bait of his plans being called stupid.

“Dad waited at home for an hour and then went back to work. Couldn’t have family night without Dib. So I decided if Dib was going to miss family night, I’d give him a real excuse. I summoned my robot toys to wait in the living room and surprise him when he came in the door. I sat up till one, too pissed off to sleep. When he finally came home, the robots attacked him, and…” Her voice trembled. “…I programmed them too well, I guess. I only wanted to send him to the emergency room, for stitches or something. I didn’t…” She broke off, and tears slipped down her cheeks. “I didn’t mean for him to... I called the robots off, but it was too late. The squid robot had…stabbed his chest…” Gaz fell silent after what was probably the longest speech of her life.

Tears slid down Membrane’s face, too, even though he kept telling himself it wasn’t happening, it hadn’t happened yet, he could change it.

Zim’s glare was still accusing. “Stupid, stinking human. So you can’t have your precious faaamily night without the Dib? Then let me help you join him.”

Gaz’s eyes shot open. “Why? You hated him.”

“That I did, Gaz-monster. But Dib was the only one who made this filthy planet worthy of conquest. Who wants to conquer a planet whose natives are too stupid and indifferent to defend it? There is nothing worth doing now. After I get my revenge on you, I’ll probably just go home and watch TV.” His eyes lost their spark, his antennae drooping.

“But…” Gaz began struggling anew. “You said you’d let me live if I told you what happened! Besides, wouldn't you be stooping to my level if you kill me?”

The red spark returned to Zim’s eyes. “Oh, but you see, Gaz, unlike you, I have an actually good reason for my revenge. The Dib-beast did nothing wrong. You murdered your own sibling, that you supposedly loved, because he was doing his job. No, Gaz, I won’t feel bad about this.” He pointed a condemning claw. “Robots! ATTACK!”

The four robots that weren’t holding Gaz flew at her, stabbing her chest with their sharp legs.

“STOP!” Membrane turned from the horrific scene and fixed his gaze on the Santa creature. “I can’t watch anymore! Take me away from here, Spirit!”

The Spirit nodded, and the room shivered and changed to his front yard.

“Are we back in my own time now? I can change the future, can’t I?”

The creature grunted and disappeared.

His heart still pounding, Membrane stumbled up the walkway on shaking legs. He opened the door, not sure what to expect. To his immense relief, both of his children were safe and sound inside their home. Dib sat on the couch while Gaz paced the floor, baseball bat in hand. They looked up as he came in.

“Hey, how did the door open?” asked Dib.

Membrane was so thrilled that his children were alive that he didn’t care if they still couldn’t see him. He ran forward to put his hands on their shoulders to make sure they were real. Quick on the draw, Gaz slammed her bat against his shin. For a little girl, she hit hard.

“I got the thing!” she said. “Whatever it is.”

Membrane clutched his stinging shin, wondering why he was solid again, but still invisible. Was it really because of the silly snowman's tinsel? It was insane, but Membrane just had to go with it. He shook his coat to see if any tinsel was still in it. When nothing fell out, he unbuttoned his collar and let the cloth fall toward his chest for the first time in ages. A strand glinted on his collar bone, and he picked it up and dropped it on the floor.

Dib and Gaz both gasped softly. “Dad!”

“I can’t believe that worked!” Membrane stooped to hug his children, snatching the bat out of Gaz’s hand as he did. “No more dangerous toys for you, Gaz!”

Membrane pulled back to look at them, but kept his arms around their shoulders. His kids stared at him with huge brown eyes. Gaz’s face was round and innocent, as though she hadn’t just whacked her father with a bat.

“You’re the invisible thing that grabbed us?” she asked.

What could he say? “Yes I am. It’s a long story.”

“Tell us what happened, Dad.”

“I don’t really know what happened, son. I must admit it can’t be explained by Science.”

“Really?” A grin spread across Dib’s face. “Even better!”

“All right, I’ll try to describe it the way I experienced it.” Membrane sat on the couch gestured for his children to sit beside him. He began telling them about their mother's visit, and as expected, Dib kept interrupting with questions. But Membrane did not talk about the future Christmas, even though Dib kept guessing.

“It’s Zim’s leaders, isn’t it? They’re coming to wipe out mankind!”

Membrane wrinkled his brow. “I didn’t see Zim’s leaders, and mankind won’t be wiped out. I can promise you that much!”

“Then what happened?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just too…” He shook his head. “Well, I just can’t tell you. But I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you never find out first hand!”

“Dad. I can handle it, really. Maybe I can help you prevent it too!”

Membrane was starting to regret telling his son about the visions at all. Dib was already imagining scary possible futures. There was still a lot Membrane had to learn about being a good parent. He turned to Gaz, who had been quiet as a rock for most of his story. He would have to talk to her about those deadly robot toys. But not tonight. He couldn’t change everything in one night. He just had to believe that there was still enough time to change things for the better. At the moment, he was grateful just to have a chance to put his arms around them to make sure they were real. He was determined never to let anything bad happen to either of them.

Membrane squeezed his daughter's shoulder, prompting a rare, small smile from the girl.

“Nice story, Dad, but can we open presents now?” she asked.

“Oh yes, I almost forgot! Go ahead, kids!” Membrane waved his arm toward the coffee table, grateful for the distraction.

“Hey, don’t change the subject!” said Dib, frowning.

She shrugged. “If you don’t want presents, I’ll take yours. Even though they’re probably dumb.”

“Now Gaz, you and your brother should take turns opening your gifts!”

Gaz rolled her eyes. “O-kay, but I’m going first.”

As she tore inter her largest package, the doorbell rang.

“Who on earth could that be?” Membrane walked toward the door. “Not another Spirit, I hope!”

It was not a Spirit, but Zim. The little green person seemed more surprised than the scientist, but it would take a hell of a lot to surprise Membrane after all he’d been through that night. Zim now had black hair and purple eyes with pupils. But he still had an alien appearance: green skin, no nose or ears, and that strange metal backpack. Membrane wondered why he never noticed before.

Zim blinked. “Who are you?”

“I’m Dib’s father.” He’d never identified himself as his kids’ father; it was always Professor Membrane. But now “Dib’s father” felt right.

“Oh.” Zim scratched his…wig, perhaps? “I didn’t recognize you with your collar unbuttoned like that.”

Dib joined them at the door. “What, Zim?” he asked flatly.

“Oh, eh, I’m just trying to find out what that thing was that infiltrated my base and removed you and your terrifying sibling.” He glanced up at Membrane, then added, “I’m normal.”

Membrane and Dib shared a look. What the heck.

“That was me, Zim.”

“What?” Zim gaped at him. “HOW? WHY?”

“I don’t exactly know,” said Membrane, shrugging.

“Don’t exactly know?! Pathetic hyooman scientist. I could erase your memory, but it won’t matter in a few hours anyway. I’m building a remote control for my black hole cannons. Soon I’ll be watching the Earth’s implosion from my space station!”

Membrane raised his eyebrows. “Why are you telling us this?”

“He’s a moron,” Gaz spoke up.

Zim shifted to glare past Membrane. “Dare you insult the superior intellect of ZIM?”

“Could you wrap up this conversation? You’re letting in the cold.”

This was inaccurate: they were letting the warm air out. But that was beside the point. Membrane stared at Zim, unsure of what to make of him. He’d seen Zim kill his daughter. But he’d also heard his daughter confess to killing his son, and he couldn’t disown her.

In the spirit of Christmas and consistency, Membrane said, “Would you like to come in, Zim? I could brew some coffee.”

“Dad!” Dib said sharply.

Zim’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “What kind of earth-stink trickery is this? Zim is not falling off the turnip truck today! No, I have important doomsday work! Sleep peacefully this night, for tomorrow you’ll all wake up inside a black hole!”

“Why do you always say that when no one’s asleep?” asked Dib.

“You’re going to sleep sooner or later, so what’s the difference?” He turned on his heel, then said over his shoulder, “Merry Christmas, Dib! Muhahaha!”

“Oh yeah?!” Dib called as Zim ran down the sidewalk, evidently determined to have the last word. “I’ll just sabotage your cannons! And even if I don’t, your robot sidekick will probably mess up your plan like he usually does!”

He shut the door and grinned up at Membrane. “This is going to sound corny, but this is the best Christmas ever.”

Membrane returned the grin. “It doesn't sound corny to me at all, son. Merry Christmas.”

THE END