Chapter 3! Now we get into the fun part. Know there are at least 2 other hunts planned for this series. I'm excited for the other two—though fair warning right now, those might get more violent/gore-y just purely because of the monsters that will be present. I'll be surprised, and pleased, if someone can guess what the third monster is once I post it lmao

EDIT: I edited this chapter after some concerns were brought to my attention; and frankly, i think it's tighter because of it. I think I'm going to review chapters in the future and do at least two or more passes before posting them. I'll be beta-reading chapters for this and Curious Dib to really tighten them up in the future and make sure I don't repeat the same mistake again.

Enjoy!

Chapter 3: Into the Woods

Dib packed his bag to the brink. He shook it out, gaining any spare space he could with the escaping air, so that he could force the zipper closed. Gir was laying in his desk chair, sucking on a spare lollipop Dib had found in the pantry. He was sure it was expired, but that didn't mean anything to the robot. Dib had seen Gir consume some highly questionable things in the past. He scooped Gir up and carried him like a child. He slipped out the front door, catching sight of Gaz playing one of her online games on his way by. He thought for a moment about telling her he was heading out and decided against it. He didn't want to be the target of her wrath if he interrupted her. He could text her later. She would put two and two together on her own. He had been talking her ear off the entire night with his excitement.

He drove to Zim's house with a stupid smile on his face. He hadn't been able to go on a proper Bigfoot hunt in a long while. His last proper excursion had been over a year ago, when he had nothing planned for Spring Break and had a tenuous agreement with Zim that he wouldn't do any scheming while he was gone. It had only been possible, if he were honest, because he'd threatened to send Gaz after him if Zim had pulled anything funny. It had been a bold-faced lie; but Zim never figured that out. It had been a failure of a hunt, but Dib had just been happy he could go on one without much worry.

He parked and waltzed up to Zim's front door, already accustomed to the deactivated gnomes. He thought, idly, if he should tell Zim he needed to reset them. It might make waltzing in like he had been markedly harder if he did, though. Dib went for the door handle, keeping up his momentum and slamming right into the door. He bounced off, rubbing his shoulder and dropping Gir as he fell onto the pavement. The door was finally locked, despite the deactivated gnomes, and of course he hadn't expected that. He should have at least thought of it—but he couldn't blame himself for it. It had been unlocked for days already. Dib huffed, readjusting his bag as he stood, and knocked overly loud. He should have expected some form of last-minute retaliation, he supposed. Gir sat against his foot, almost done with the sucker. It was remarkably easy to get him to shut up for a few minutes sometimes.

He heard the very faint but familiar whir of the elevator inside. Dib waited, tapping his foot, right up until Zim finally unlocked the door. He wasn't in his disguise; and looked annoyed to see him. Dib stared at him a moment. He snapped out of his momentary lapse in focus.

"Where's your disguise?" Dib asked. It was more on reflex to cure his curiosity and Zim didn't seem all that forthcoming. Ever. But; he always asks any question that popped into his head for the rare chances when Zim would let slip something interesting. While it was mostly contained to their occasional rooftop conversations, Dib held out hope that he'd be able to catch Zim in one of those moods on any given day.

"Didn't feel like wearing it." Zim stepped to the side so Dib could slip past.

Dib was shocked that Zim had opened the door for even a moment without the disguise on. Anyone could have been passing by. Dib could have whipped out a camera to snap a photo and sprint away to his truck. With the broken window, however, it would have been much easier for Zim to get inside after him. Zim even took his time shutting the door. An uneasy feeling crept up Dib's spine.

"It's dangerous to answer the door without it, isn't it?" he asks. Zim shrugs. Dib's look of concern annoyed him—Dib could tell by how his antennae bent forward and to the sides a little—and Zim sighed. "I knew it was you. Why would I bother?"

"Why wouldn't you bother?" Dib asks. He knew Zim was smart enough to know about the camera possibility.

"I didn't care. Are you ready to go on this stupid trip?"

"Of course, I am." Dib adjusted his bag to emphasis this. He looked around the base. It was lit this time, the eerie feeling of it gone now that actual lights were working again, looking much more appropriate. "So, if you're ready to go I have the truck—"

"We are not taking that disgusting machine. We are taking the Voot," Zim says.

"But—"

"We are taking the Voot," Zim stressed. Dib held his hands up.

"Alright, alright. No complaints if I get to ride in that," Dib says joyfully. Gir ran back inside, slamming the door on his way in, and pranced to the couch. Zim tossed him the remote with hardly a thought.

Dib went as far as the kitchen before he realized he didn't know the way to the Voot for their trip if he wasn't climbing through the walls. Zim came up behind him, hooking his arm around Dib's back and dragging him alongside him. Dib was shoulder to shoulder with Zim as he did this. It wasn't uncomfortable, per se, just something new. Zim guided him to a door that Dib hadn't even noticed was there in all the times he'd been at the base. The door was the same color as the wall, lacking a handle in place of a small indent in the wood. Zim slid it into the wall by hooking his claw in the indent. Behind was a set of stairs leading up. Dib took the initiative and broke free of Zim's grip to bound up them.

He hit the top of the stairs, the room opening into the attic, and looked around excitedly. The space acted as the garage bay for the Voot. Said vehicle was on the launching pad. Zim came up behind Dib, watching him gawk over the Voot like a child in a candy store. Dib was unimpeded for the first time and without fear of being caught spying by a prowling alien. He was going to enjoy this chance.

"We can really use this?" Dib asks excitedly.

"Yes, but I am piloting it," Zim says harshly. "You will be seated and not touching anything."

"Ok, whatever, but we're using it?" Dib asks again. The blatant disregard of Zim's order had the alien prickling in annoyance. Dib went to touch the windshield and Zim's hand smacked his away.

"You will not touch my precious Voot! Your filthy hands will remain with you," Zim growled. "The only reason we are taking the Voot is because I cannot STAND to be in that smelly, stupid truck of yours."

"It's not that bad," Dib retorts. Zim gives him an equally disgusted and disbelieving look. "It wasn't before yesterday!"

"It WAS." Zim insists, opening the Voot's windshield. Dib opted not to mention that Zim couldn't have rightfully known that, given that he hadn't actually been inside the truck before yesterday.

Instead Dib hooked his foot onto the engine, lifting himself up. He felt Zim's hands on his thighs and he was unceremoniously pushed inside. Dib tumbled onto the floor, sitting up with his shoulder sore again. He looked over the control panel and hovered his and over it, trying to discern the Irken language that was covering most of the panels in labels. Zim lifted himself inside with his PAK legs and took up the pilot seat. He harshly smacked Dib's hand away.

"Do you even know what any of this says?" Zim ask.

"Well, no—"

"Then don't touch it! You could blow us up. That is why I'm piloting and you're sitting in silence." Zim says condescendingly. The ceiling to the attic started to open, the mechanisms whirring around them, and almost drowning Dib's voice out.

"My truck is perfectly fine!" Dib insisted. Fine, save for the dent in the back bumper and busted window. Zim paused, his antennae lowered in annoyance. Dib was already getting close to being kicked out of the Voot before they'd even taken off. Dib decided to dial it back just a little. He sat back on the floor in a huff.

"Don't you have your own garbage ship?" Zim asked.

"Tak's ship? It won't make the trip. I can't get the engines to stabilize," Dib admits. It was true for the most part. The engines let him take off, but they couldn't hold on long in flight. He hadn't managed to sparce out what most of the buttons on board even did, and he wasn't risking a second attempt at downloading his own personality into it just yet. Zim scoffed at him, starting up the Voot's engines.

"Years of tinkering with that ship wasted, I see. I could have had it running far before now," Zim says. He had a mocking laugh to his voice. Dib glowered at him.

"Well, I don't have a super-computer strapped to my back. It's not like I can read Irken, either. I don't have anyone to teach me. I admit, it's guess work. Slow and painstaking guess work," Dib spat. The Voot began to rise steadily. He eyed the PAK. Zim caught his gaze and smirked smugly.

"Jealous, worm?"

"Hell no. I'd rather die than have that thing stuck to me," Dib says. He shivered at the thought. He knew that it attached to Zim's back through tubing in the spine. Dib didn't want anything near his spine unless it was required surgery. That was the sole exception.

Zim's antennae twitched just the slightest. He opened his mouth, paused, and shut it again. Dib shifted to a more comfortable position, acutely aware of the tenser atmosphere. Zim's antenna made the slightest flinch in Dib's direction when he shifted. Zim's expression was quick to disappear, like someone unwilling to reflect on a bad memory. He forced a lever forward and Dib was hit with a force that brought him to the Voot's flooring with a yelp. The Voot rose into the sky with alarming speed until they were surrounded by nothing but clouds. Then, further, until the clouds were below them. And even further until finally they were higher than planes.

The Voot finally leveled out, giving Dib the opportunity to check the health of his spine. The backpack had thankfully broken some of his fall. He hoped and prayed nothing had broken inside. He hadn't heard anything, but he could never be too certain.

"What was that for?!"

Zim looked back at him smugly, scoffing. That scoff turned into laughter, the familiar sound something Dib didn't even know he'd missed the last week. He'd be asking how the take-off was so fast if he wasn't also so pissed about it.

"If that's all it takes to down you, I'm not sure how your species has survived this long." Zim says. "Taking off in broad daylight is risky. Better to be out of sight fast than risk a witness. Were you not just concerned about that?"

"I wasn't concerned, I was confused," Dib insists. He stretched, popping his back. He enjoyed the startled and slightly disturbed look Zim shoots him at the sound. "A little warning next time, yeah?"

"If there is a next time. …You're breathing odd." Zim says, returning his gaze to the control panel as he veered the ship to the right.

"What?"

Zim turns back, his eyes resting on Dib's chest, antennae flicking as they focused on Dib's breathing. "You're breathing weird. And your pulse is accelerated. You may want to calm that down—"

"I almost had a heart attack with that lift off and those reactions surprise you?!" Dib shouts. "My body isn't the same as yours, you bug!"

"I'm aware," Zim seethes. A low growl accompanied his words. Dib feels uneasy at the statement.

"What do you mean by that?" he asks warily.

"Altitude. There's a sickness for it with humans, right? Just another reason you all should have developed a PAK equivalent," Zim says, waving Dib's concerns off.

"There is, but I'm breathing "weird" because humans don't usually vault ourselves into the stratosphere within seconds," Dib snarks.

He was tempted to grab the water gun from his bag; but thought better of it. While he was fairly certain he'd packed it, perhaps pissing off the alien that had all the power to just throw him out into the sky to die wasn't the best idea. He could risk being in the base or jumping Zim in the street. The Voot was entirely out of his element. He wasn't planning on dying today. Not when he had the chance of going on a good Bigfoot hunt again.

"I believe I would prefer you passed out depending on how far we're going," Zim says.

Dib was very tempted to look for that water gun. He instead decided to grab the GPS out of the front pouch. He throws it to Zim, hitting the alien in the back of the head. Zim grabbed the device from his seat and whirled around to fix Dib with a glare and a hiss. It wasn't the 'I am going to kill you' hiss, so Dib figured he was still marginally safe. For now. He could always argue he hadn't broken anything on the control panel or windshield, and barter for a pass for that.

"You'll need that," Dib says, mocking tone in his voice. Zim looked ready to crush the device rather than use it. "I was even nice enough to put the coordinates in it already."

Zim's hand shook as he fought the urge to break the GPS. Instead, he sets it roughly on the control panel so he could watch it. Dib took the reprieve for what it was as a chance to make sure he had really packed everything he had needed. He could feel the aggravation rolling off Zim in waves and he didn't feel like letting his guard down before he was sure Zim wouldn't mutilate him while he was distracted. He rummaged through the bag, taking out the larger items to check that everything was inside. The temporarily borrowed GPS, trackers, cameras, file folders to review should he need them, the foldable tree stand, a casting set for footprints…

"Will the trip take long?" he asks, only halfway through all his things. He double checked the castor wasn't hardened.

"No."

Straight and to the point. Something rare for the bug who preferred to rant for minutes on end to make a point or answer a question. Dib had noticed that Zim's unwillingness to speak was a recent trend that had popped up right alongside his sudden dip in mood and patience. While Dib couldn't be sure Zim ever had a lot of patience, it was noticeably low the last few days. Dib stood, steadying himself as he kicked his bag to the side. He felt like how he usually feels when he gets on a plane and tries to stand the first time. His body had to adjust to the speed and lack of solid ground to regain his footing. He almost wanted to take a nap, given he hadn't slept as long as he should have the night before. He wanted to; but he wasn't dumb enough to. He'd functioned on less sleep before. Pulling all-nighters to either spy on Zim or finish assignments he'd neglected had trained him in the ways of sleep deprived functionality well enough.

"Good. Otherwise you'd have to deal with me longer," Dib says sarcastically. Zim's shoulders prickled a little. He banked the Voot to the side.

Dib stumbled into the pilot seat, jerking the chair in his attempt to catch himself. He falls to the floor, the chair swerving around from his grip. Zim shouted something in Irken and Dib received a kick to the gut. It wasn't as hard as Zim had probably intended it. Dib's swivel of the chair did land Zim in the perfect position to have kicked at him regardless if it was intentional or not, however. Despite the lost strength from Zim's usual kicks, it had still knocked the wind out of him, and he gasped to get it back. Dib gave a nervous laugh at the venomous glare Zim was fixing him with.

"Why are you laughing?! You did that on purpose!" Zim shouts. "I should aim for you this time. A kick in the head, maybe!"

"No! No, I didn't do it on purpose, I swear!" Dib said, waving his hands up in a mock surrender. He didn't have the best control of them, his arms swaying with the sway of the Voot. The kick, combined with the sudden course change, had not helped him regain his balance at all. Zim turned in his chair to hit the autopilot before fixing Dib with a glare again. Dib started to panic when he caught sight of the rage on Zim's face. "I didn't! I didn't!"

Zim narrowed an eye at him. He bared his teeth at the boy. "You insolent little speck."

"Zim, I will fight back and I swear I will fight dirty." Dib warned. "Don't even think about it."

"And what could you do about it, exactly?" Zim asked.

The confidence in his voice had Dib's heartrate spiking. The color drained from his face. It was just like at Zim's base, when he had, rather correctly, pointed out that Dib had walked into a scenario where he could die and Zim wouldn't face any repercussions. Zim could open the hood of the Voot and throw Dib out and he'd be dead before he hit the ground. His heart would give out before that happened.

"Um…"

Dib leapt up, stumbling again towards his bag. He if could just reach the water gun he'd be fine. If he had been smarter, he'd have brought something else to use against Zim. He could have come alone. He could have—but had wanted backup and something was wrong with Zim and Dib just couldn't bring himself to leave Zim alone for a trip that would have taken him a whole weekend. Thinking back on it, he had royally screwed himself. Being stuck in a ship, who knows how far into the sky, with an easily enraged alien was not his brightest idea. He should have pushed the use of the truck. It would have been a smaller space and taken significantly longer to get to where he had wanted to go, but at least it would have been on the ground. Agreeing to this was dumber than going into Zim's base when he was already angry. He had somewhere to run when he was in the base.

He felt something clasp around his hand. Another hand was at the back of his collar. Dib swatted at him, unable to think about how to get out of Zim's grip when he was being lifted off the ground. He kicked back, getting Zim in the ribs. He felt bad doing it, but self-preservation was stronger.

"What was that for?!" Zim screeched.

"You just picked me up!" Dib shouted back. He shook off his coat to get out of Zim's grip entirely.

Dib scrambled for his bag. He turned it over and dumped everything out. He was far from worried about breaking anything as he'd already taken all that out. To his horror, though, he looked over everything to find that the water gun wasn't even there. Dib blanched, turning to see Zim glowering at him with a PAK leg pointing at him. Dib smiled awkwardly. He gave a nervous laugh and scooted to the back of the Voot. If Zim lunged at him again, he might be able to get the PAK leg stuck within the bag. That'd be one leg down and who knew how many more to go, however. He was at a distinct disadvantage.

De-escalation it was.

"Okay, so, let's just calm down a moment," Dib started. He still held the bag up in front of him for any attack Zim might unleash on him. "I really, really didn't intend to hit the chair. I lost my balance."

"I don't believe that."

"Why would I intentionally antagonize you in the Voot? I'm not stupid," Dib says. He watched the PAK leg slowly starting to retreat. "Were you really going to skewer me? Get blood all over the Voot?"

Dib wanted to bite his tongue. He'd already taunted the notion before, and it seemed to have worked, but he was on thin ice and had been for days. Zim narrowed his eyes and fell back into his chair, swiveling it around with a huff.

"I do not want to clean that mess up." Zim says. Dib breathed a sigh of relief. While Zim could still toss him out like a ragdoll he was at least safe from being impaled. He started to gather up all the equipment he'd tossed aside in his panic. Zim tossed his coat to him. Dib caught it, slipping it back on. He eyed the back of Zim's chair.

"Hey, are you okay?" Dib asks.

"You've already asked that. Have you forgotten?" Zim asks. Dib shook his backpack out to fit everything to try hiding his annoyance.

"No, but things change," he says. "Are you okay?"

Zim's ribcage vibrated with another growl. He pinched his brow, his antennae starting to angle to the sides in annoyance. He knew Dib was going to pester him at some point. He'd been hoping, wistfully, that it would have taken longer. Now that he was calmer, Zim realized his already present agitation had only been shot up tenfold when Dib hit the chair. Zim glanced at the GPS. He was stuck with Dib for another hour. Dib poked his head into Zim's peripheral. Zim closed his eyes, taking a breath before turning to Dib with a weak glare.

"I still do not wish to discuss it," Zim says. "Stop pretending you care."

"I'm not pretending," Dib says defiantly. "Why do you think that?"

"Why would you care? We're enemies. You hate me, don't you?" Zim asks.

"Not… entirely," Dib confesses. Zim blinked at him. "I-I mean, we fight a lot, yeah. But, I don't know, I don't hate you. You're really the only person I talk to."

"I recall."

"It's hard to hate the only person who doesn't ignore you," Dib says. Zim hummed. He could see the logic in that. Dib certainly wasn't wrong. "Do you hate me?"

"No," Zim said, the word out of his mouth before he could stop it. He could already see Dib's entire body lifting up and he snapped his head around at him. "DO NOT THINK I WILL NOT MAIM YOU BECAUSE OF THAT."

Dib just smiled dumbly at him. Zim wanted to kick him again. If Gir were there he could throw the robot at Dib's head. Zim shoved Dib away and he hit the floor. Dib rubbed at his back, still smiling like an idiot.

"Ow."

"Suffer."

"Okay, okay," Dib pulled himself back up, leaning on the pilot's seat. He was careful not to jostle it too much to keep Zim's shoulders from bristling again. He was having to try to not piss Zim off. "I appreciate you coming, by the way. I didn't want to come alone."

"Couldn't handle it?" Zim asks.

"No. But I would prefer the company. And you'd make a good bodyguard," Dib says. Zim tried to elbow him but Dib curved his body away. If there was something Zim begrudgingly respected about Dib, it was his height. He was sure that was a product of his PAK's programming, but he couldn't help it.

"I will not be guarding you," Zim says. Dib frowned.

"But, when I asked I said the PAK legs—"

"That is not why I agreed to come," Zim points out quickly. He gestured to the map, ignoring Dib's following questions. "We're headed where, exactly?"

Dib sighed, deflating and knowing he wasn't going to be getting anything else out of Zim soon. He was lucky to have gotten what he had.

"A National Park. There's a good amount of Bigfoot sightings there, especially since the warm season has started."

"And we had to go across the country? Do your superiors not have local field agents?" Zim questions.

"I don't know, but it's Bigfoot and I'm registered as an expert on those," Dib says.

Ah, that explained it. Really, Zim wasn't complaining that much. The statistics were interesting, though Zim took them to with a grain of salt, he was impressed enough to be at least curious of the area himself. If he wasn't going alone, he could accompany Dib and have someone who knew about these things tagging along. That said, he was annoyed that Dib had bene chosen instead of someone closer. Zim hadn't been able to see or experience much in the way of the paranormal since he'd arrived on the planet (save for the nightmare fuel that was one Halloween and the demon incident—honestly he wasn't sure what Dib was thinking) and found himself almost excited. He doubted they'd find anything. For the amount of belief in these creatures, sightings were curiously sparse. He was still willing to give it a shot, however.

Dib moved to the back of the Voot to grab his bag and the file folders inside. He settled down on the floor, his back resting against the loveseat Zim had added at some point against the wall. He looked it over and turned to him.

"What's this for?"

"It's better than sitting in this seat for days on end," Zim says.

"…Fair enough. When did you install it?" Dib asks. He set his bag on it, flipping through files.

"A while ago."

Zim watched their dot move closer to their location slowly. He tilted his head back, watching the clouds while Dib looked through the papers in his hands.

Zim stared out the window, watching as their dot drew close enough to hover over their location. Zim lowered the Voot enough to just barely peek under the clouds. It was a cloudy day in the area, giving Zim ample opportunity to pop back into the natural camouflage of the clouds should he need to. He scanned the forestry under him, noting that there wasn't any sign of civilization for miles. That at least made this easier. He would have to keep in mind that Dib, though he challenged the notion sometimes, was not an idiot when it came to what he knew best and should try to listen to him while they were out here.

Zim lowered the Voot into one of the only clearings he could see. It was hardly open enough for the Voot to lower into place without breaking the branches on its way past. Once on solid ground, Zim leaned back and cracked the windshield open. The hiss of new air filling the Voot was a sound he found oddly satisfying. Zim pushes the windshield open all the way, jumping out. Dib grabbed his bag, double checking he had everything inside and nothing was broken, before following him out. Dib stumbled out, falling on his face after slipping on the metal. Zim laughed at him on his way down, breaking into a sort of shrieking laugh when Dib faceplanted. Dib glowered at him. Relieved as he was that Zim was laughing again as opposed to his depressive state days prior, it was still annoying that it was at Dib's expense.

Zim calmed down, cloaking the Voot with a small device coming out of the PAK. The Voot was covered in a shimmer akin to oil slick on water as the light refraction was manipulated and Dib watched it disappear before his eyes. He brushed himself off, looking up and seeing that it was completely gone. If it weren't for the fact that he knew it was there, Dib wouldn't have been any wiser. It was going to be a pain in the ass to find later if he decided to ditch the alien.

A single leaf fell from a tree and landed on one of the engines (Dib could only guess based on height). He still thought better of it. If he ditched Zim in these woods he would likely die before he found the ship. His doom would be either by a bear or by a creature—or exposure. Dib doubted he would last long enough to starve to death or die of thirst, but he equally doubted he'd be able to find his way back to the Voot's clearing—especially after dark if they took that long. Really, there were so many ways he could die out here alone. Zim probably had some sort of homing beacon in his PAK to find his own way back to the ship.

Dib looked himself over. He was already covered in dirt and grass and he hadn't even passed a tree yet. Zim was inconspicuously far enough away that Dib couldn't dirty him as well. He smiled devilishly, sneaking up beside Zim and swinging an arm around his shoulders. The immediate reaction of disgust was worth it, and Dib reveled in the fact Zim was so put out by something as simple as dirt. The planet was covered in it and yet it seemed Zim couldn't get past it. Finally, Zim pushed him off.

"You insufferable insect!" he shrieked.

"C'mon, that was funny," Dib says. Zim glared at him a moment before stomping off. Dib could see the dirt covering portions of his back and considered it a win.

Dib took a notebook out of the bag, thumbing through notes he'd taken on the area. If they turned left and stayed in that direction, they could hit a sighting heavy spot within an hour. He started off and almost stumbled more than once over roots and forest debris. Never enough that he lost his footing; just enough that he had to add an extra hop to his step to keep from faceplanting again. There weren't any trails for him to use. Not even deer trails. Dib searched his pockets for the GPS, coming up empty. He paused, turning back to the direction of the Voot and catching sight of Zim giving him a strange look.

"What?" Zim asks.

"I forgot the GPS in the Voot…" Dib confesses. Zim sighed, looking put out. He reached his hand out.

"Show me where to go on the map," he says. Dib held it up, pointing to the spot. Zim scanned it a moment and stood straight. It took a moment before he started to veer to the right. "It's a few minutes this way."

"How do you know that?" Dib asks. He followed regardless, knowing already that he could be lost if he didn't, and he would severely lessen his chances of finding a Bigfoot if he did.

"PAKs have something similar to GPS," Zim says, his tone blatantly one of bragging. He was feeding his own ego and Dib felt a headache starting to form again. It was nice to know his assumption was right, though. The ease of getting that information was a welcome surprise.

"What's the difference?" Dib asked, hoping Zim was still in a sharing mood. Typically, these moods only struck him on rooftop nights. Dib chalked it up to the change in scenery.

"It's like a virtual map in our heads. I concentrate on where I want to go, it sets a leeway spot, and we navigate from there." Zim explained. "Much easier than trying to look at a screen constantly."

"So, like a videogame map?"

"Sure."

Dib followed Zim until they'd hit the spot. He inspected the trees, assessing which one was the best width for his tree stand. He spotted it across the clearing and raced over to it. Zim followed him at a leisurely pace. Dib pulled the single seat stand from his bag, unfolding it into its shape. He grabbed one of the straps, biting it in his mouth, and started to climb. Zim watched him go, like watching a monkey, with a capacity of interest. Dib's lean body made it easy for him to find hand holds far apart, and easier to lift himself up.

Once he was high enough, he sat himself on a branch and set up the stand. He slid back down the tree, slinging the bag over his back again. He started to climb his second time. Zim shook his head with a small chuckle that Dib missed. His PAK legs stretched out, reaching into the trunks of the surrounding trees to hoist him up. He reached Dib at the top before the boy could get himself into the tree stand. Dib hung, legs wrapped around the trunk and arms just now touching the stand, as Zim grinned smugly down at him from above. The PAK's legs looked awfully like spider legs—and didn't that suit Zim perfectly. Dib knew he had nicknamed him 'bug' for a reason.

Dib scowled at him. He dragged himself into the stand with a heavy sigh. "Could have helped me."

"Didn't feel like it. You looked like you had it handled," Zim says smoothly. Dib glared at him with a side eye and started rummaging through his bag.

Dib debated throwing something from the bag at Zim; but he didn't feel like getting gutted or thrown from the tree. He would most definitely break his leg if he did. He took out his surveillance equipment instead. A night vision camera with matching goggles, a flashlight, binoculars, and a flash grenade should he need it. He set it all out in front of him. Zim eyed the flash grenade curiously. Dib saw his hand reach out to poke it and he swatted it away. Zim hissed at him, rubbing the sore spot on his hand.

"No touching. It's the only one I've got and it's not for you." Dib says.

"For what purpose does it serve? You are staying in the tree, aren't you?" Zim asks. His PAK set him down on an equally sturdy neighboring branch. He still reached up to grasp a branch above him so he wouldn't accidently be swayed off in a gust of wind or Dib if he decided to shove the alien. The boy in question rolled his eyes.

"It's precautionary. I was planning to use it only if I got attacked by a bear or something." Dib says. He stuffed it back into his bag. Zim was scoffing at him.

"As if a puny bear could do you any harm while I'm here," Zim says, kicking his legs. Dib wasn't blind to the narcissism brightening Zim's mood. He would deal with it if it meant that Zim wasn't in the mood to have whatever tantrum he'd had at his base here where no one would find Dib's body.

Dib inspected the binoculars next. They checked out, zooming in and out at a decent speed, and were clean. He went through all the equipment, stopping at the night vision camera. He held it up, flipping it on, and peering through the lens. As he suspected, the image was blown out to almost imperceptible levels. He turned it on Zim, snapping a photo. The click was barely audible, and yet, Dib saw Zim's antennae lurch upward, straight as a rod. Then they bent forward and Zim was baring his teeth at him. Dib peered around from behind the camera, sweating.

Zim stared Dib down, still as stone, debating what to do. He could push Dib off the branch, watch him fall and break something. That would at least be entertaining and cathartic at once—and might even break the camera. He could just snatch it. He could also use one of his PAK legs to pierce it. He narrowed his eyes at that thought. He wasn't too keen on possibly impaling Dib through his head.

"It's too blown out to see anything," he says.

He could still see the gears turning both quickly and slowly in Zim's head. He turned the camera around and started to hit buttons. The photo was blown out, almost white across the board. Dib couldn't even really make out the shapes in it, much less that he'd captured an alien imitating Cirque Du Soleil. The photo was wiped from the memory card and Dib held the camera up for Zim to see it better.

"There. Gone. Better?" Dib asks. Zim's shoulders seem to relax some and he puckers his lip a bit, but he still doesn't say anything. Dib raises an eyebrow at him. He usually threw a punch, or at least screamed, when Dib had managed to get photos of him before. The unusual pause in action had Dib more worried than the thought that he might break a few ribs if Zim had thrown a punch at him from this height.

"Better?" Dib asks again, his tone more impatient than before.

Zim nodded. His antennae started to fall backward again as his shoulders visibly started to relax. He snatched the camera away from Dib and looked through the photos himself just to be sure. He spotted a few of deer, some of a raccoon, and several of Gir. Zim flipped it around, questions littering his face. It was almost comical, and by some blessing Dib managed to keep from laughing.

"He was trying to make friends with the neighbor's dog. This camera functions as a motion detector when you set it to," Dib explains. Zim handed it back and watched Dib attach the camera to the tree. Dib balanced himself on the stand again and sighed. He'd be waiting until dusk, most likely. He could manage that with company, at least.

The remainder of their time was spent with Dib telling Zim more than once that he had to be quiet or he'd scare Bigfoot off, and Zim reminding Dib that he would hear Bigfoot before Bigfoot would hear them. Dib was skeptical until he remembered Zim could distinguish his heartbeat. With that in mind, he was more inclined to believe it. How Zim would know it was Bigfoot approaching was another issue entirely.

Zim turned his attention, at some point, to watching whatever animals happened to pas them while they were in the tree. A few deer, some birds, and mostly squirrels. Zim hated the squirrels the most. They loved to clamor into the loading bay of the Voot and chew on the wires—much to his dismay—and Gir was hardly adept at actually catching them. he'd rather play an impromptu game of tag. He turned to glance at Dib, pausing when he saw that Dib had leaned back on the tree and fallen asleep. Zim slumped a little, sighing. He could fall, at any point, and break more than a few bones.

Zim reached a hand out.

Dib didn't like waking up. It meant his naps or his sleep had ended and had to get out of bed. Currently, his back was stiff and his legs were sore—and it took him a moment to remember that he'd fallen asleep in the tree stand. He wasn't sure how long he had been out for. He just knew that he was the perfect temperature and while the tree wasn't comfortable, the breeze and the sound of the swaying leaves were.

He felt something touching him. It brushed hair away from his face and trialed the strands along his head until it could tuck them behind his ear. The same soft touch fixed his glasses a little before just taking them off entirely. Before he knew it, the touch was back and tracing over his lashes. Then, down his nose and resting at the tip a moment. It moved to his jaw, tracing up to his ear again. Dib's brow involuntarily twitched and he shivered. The touch froze in place. It had been curious before, but now it was cautious. Dib figured the jig was up and exhaled harshly in a huff. The touch disappeared in an instant and Dib cracked his eyes open. The sun was starting to set, giving the sky a nice rainbow color. He flicked his eyes over to Zim.

The Irken was sitting still as a statue, twirling Dib's glasses in his fingers as he looked away to some random tree. It was the only part of him that was moving. Dib sat up, regretting it as the soreness in his back and neck bloomed through his body. He stretched, garnering Zim's attention. He held Dib's glasses out to him.

"You need contacts," Zim says. Dib stretched, trying to get a stubborn spot out of his neck. He was trying to process the implication of Zim taking his glasses and the touch he'd been feeling. He hadn't bet on Zim's touch to be so delicate, especially given how harsh Zim could be with him.

"Or, eye surgery," Zim adds wickedly. Dib made a swipe for the glasses.

"No, I like my eyes where they are," he says. Zim held the glasses out of reach. Zim stared at him a single moment before he tossed the glasses over Dib's head. Dib gasped, watching them sail out of reach until they hit the ground. He gaped at them a moment before he turned back to Zim.

"What the hell?!" Dib shrieked.

Zim pouted, kicking his legs a little. He'd done it to piss Dib off; but now he kind of regretted it. He sighed, swinging down off the branch. His PAK legs dug into the nearby trees, slowing his descent. He landed on the ground, pausing as his antennae picked up on a curious sound. He swiftly grabbed the glasses off the bed of moss and his PAK carried him back up to the branches. Dib took his glasses back, inspecting if they were broken. Surprisingly, they weren't.

Dib had stretched and started reviewing his files when it Zim's antennae twitched again. Zim had been still as a statue, watching the direction of the trees behind Dib. Dib flicked his eyes up from his files, towards the patch of trees, then back again.

"Wh—"

Zim slapped a hand over Dib's mouth, a finger over his own. Dib followed his line of sight across the clearing. A hulking figure was pushing through the trees. Dib almost screamed. Almost. Zim kept his hand over Dib's mouth as he started to vibrate with excitement. It was almost endearing to see Dib so excited. But Zim wasn't about to let him ruin the experience for himself. He could—it might even be funny to watch—but he wouldn't. Dib would whine for weeks (Zim had kept track the last time).

The Bigfoot lumbered into the clearing. The lighting was still too high for his night vision camera, but his phone could take a photo in the lighting. He whipped it out, pushing off Zim's hand, zooming in on Bigfoot to snap a few photos. With them, his objective was accomplished. He had something to send to The Swollen Eyeball! Dib gave a single happy laugh. It was quiet, but it was enough that the Bigfoot turned their direction. Dib lowered his phone, sweating. The Bigfoot spotted them and froze. It watched them carefully. Zim's hand slowly drifted to Dib's coat collar. The Bigfoot's expression turned to a snarl. Dib lowered his phone.

"Um…"

"Dib?"

"I don't think it wants us here," Dib says.

He watched the Bigfoot race towards them. Zim watched it approach with some amount of disgust. The Bigfoot stopped under them, raising its fist in time with a roar. It brought it's fist down on the trunk, shaking the entire tree. Dib rocked, scrambling to catch the tree stand's sides. Zim's hand grasped his coat collar and he shoved Dib backward. Dib hit the trunk and turned, wrapping his arms around the trunk in time for the second hit of the Bigfoot's fist. Dib heard Zim curse something under his breath and then the sound of something scraping a branch. He saw Zim's hand shoot out and scratch deep grooves into the trunk.

"Zim!"

He whipped his head around. Zim tumbled down the length of the tree, his PAK legs shooting out and scraping down the trunks. They each left deep scores into the trunks until his momentum was slowed enough that he hung above the Bigfoot. Zim gave a sound of disgust at the Bigfoot. It reached out, managing to snag his ankle before he could lift himself out of reach. The catch jerked him back down a little before his PAK legs could raise him up again. Zim grunted, the squeeze on his ankle shooting pain up his leg. It was no doubt broken. His PAK could fix it; if he could just get it out of the beast's grip.

"Zim?!"

Zim's PAK produced a fifth leg—smaller than the rest—that shot down and slashed the Bigfoot's face. The attempt to free himself worked. The Bigfoot let go just enough for Zim to slip his foot out of the boot. The Bigfoot let the boot drop in favor of holding onto its now bleeding face. It stumbled back a little, throwing his other arm out blindly. It barely missed the tree's trunk. Zim's PAK carried him up the trees. Dib looked panicked when he finally made it back up. Zim was already growling. Dib knew the growl well. It was the one he usually got when he was about to maim something.

"Are you okay?!" Dib asked. Zim huffed, inspecting his ankle. The skin was bruised, very harshly, but he could feel the bones relocating by the direction of his PAK. It was painful, but he could manage it. "Zim?"

"I am fine," Zim growls. Dib doubted very much that he was fine.

"I think he's just trying to defend his territory," Dib says, gripping the tree harder when it sustained another hit. He could hear the wood splintering below him. Zim glowered down at the beast.

"We will have to rectify that, then," Zim says. Dib looked at him quizzically before Zim lowered himself down with the PAK legs.

"Wait! Zim?!"

Zim kept descending until he was on the ground. His ankle was, at most, sprained by this point. He could stand on it just fine and his PAK legs could vault him away if need be. He kept them out, dug into the dirt for support, while he sized up the Bigfoot. It was considerably taller than him or Dib. It was at least, if he could guess, about as tall as a standing grizzly bear. It wasn't nearly as tall as The Tallest; but Zim had to admit the size difference wasn't something he could laugh about. One PAK leg jutted out, slicing the Bigfoot in the side, drawing a considerable amount of blood.

Zim ducked away when it sent a returning swing of its arm his direction. The swing hit the base of Dibs tree, splintering the battered trunk. Dib could feel the base swaying from the weight of the tree and himself. He quickly put his backpack on. The tree started to tilt. Zim watched it go for a second before he had to dodge another swing. He kept it up, leading the Bigfoot away slowly from Dib's direction. Another PAK leg shot out, slicking it again in the face, along one eye. The roar it let out was almost deafening. Zim had to hold his antennae against his head to try and muffle the sound. The roar, along with the crashing tree, were almost unbearable.

Dib jumped off his tree stand. He hit a few branches, finally catching himself on one and swinging his legs up as the tree fell past him. He hung there a moment, gauging the distance between his feet and the ground. Zim flanked the Bigfoot around his blind side, giving it a solid kick to the side. He heard at least three ribs break. Zim was satisfied with that being at least revenge for his ankle. The Bigfoot stumbled away, gasping for air, and clutching its side.

Dib glanced back at the two briefly before he started to shimmy towards the trunk of the tree. He hooked his legs around the trunk and slid down. His coat protected his arms from the bark on his way down. He hit the forest floor, feeling pain shoot up from his shin. He held back a curse, testing his leg, only to limp from another shot of pain. He stumbled, using the tree for support. Hands grabbed him around his waist and Dib almost shrieked. Zim lifted him up, carrying him over the ground using the PAK legs.

"You injured yourself, didn't you?" Zim asks angrily. The PAK started to carry them away, slowly raising them through the branches until they were over the treetops. Dib looked down to see the Bigfoot already trying to give chase. He turned his attention back to Zim.

"It's not like I meant to!" Dib shouts. "I landed wrong!"

"This is why you'd die if I hadn't come!"

"Why do you think I asked you, you bug?!"

"Are you dead in the brain?" Zim asks.

Dib ignored the jab. "Slow down a second, I have an idea."

"You are dead in the brain."

"Zim."

Zim groaned, pausing in the treetops. His PAK legs would occasionally readjust to keep their balance as Dib slung his bag over his shoulder enough that he could unzip the side and rummage inside. The Bigfoot paused below them. Zim's antennae flattened a little.

"Dib."

"I almost have it."

Dib felt his hand grasp around the flash grenade. He almost dropped it in his rush to take it out of the bag. The Bigfoot found one of the trees that a PAK leg held onto and started to hit it. The tree was slim, enough so that it splintered within two hits. The tree lurched backward, knocking the PAK leg off balance, and Zim gripped Dib closer until the leg found another perch. Dib pulled the pin, dropping the grenade down towards the Bigfoot.

"Okay, go, go, go, go!"

Zim's PAK started to carry them almost immediately. Dib covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. Zim looked back at the Bigfoot. It knelt down to the flash grenade. Dib had a horrific revelation half a second too late.

"Zim, don't loo—"

The bang went off. The sound was stunningly loud—louder than a jet engine—and Zim stopped, jerking from the pain to his antennae. He hissed a sound Dib had never heard before. It was broken up by clicks, sounding like something breaking. He almost dropped Dib, the instinct to grab at his antennae and head almost overriding his intent to keep Dib from falling to his death. Dib wrapped his arms around Zim's waist when Zim jostled him. Zim tried to shake his head out, only earning an incredibly painful headache.

"Zim?"

"What was that infernal device?!" Zim asked angrily. "My eyes—"

"It was a flash grenade."

"WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT?!"

"For THIS!" Dib shouted. He looked down at the Bigfoot. It was hunched on the ground in pain. It had worked—thankfully, mercifully, it had worked—and he looked back up at Zim. "Hey, put your PAK legs forward about ten feet at a time. The trees are uniform enough you can probably find some holds."

Zim wasn't sure that would work. He opened his eyes, his vision still blurry and unsure. He started forward regardless, knowing it was better than risking the Bigfoot knocking them down again before he could get to the Voot. He had to keep his eyes shut most of the time, rubbing at them when he could, trying to navigate based on Dib's instructions. The PAK legs stumbled, one slicing through the crux of a damaged branch. Dib shrieked as they started to tumble down to the trees. Zim's PAK legs bent around awkwardly to try and find a hold.

Dib hit branches, flinging his arms out in an attempt to catch himself. He hit a branch, knocking the wind from his chest. He dragged himself over the branch, looking around frantically. He spotted Zim, upside down, rubbing furiously at his eyes and head. The PAK legs occasionally readjusted to keep him suspended. The PAK legs were bent at odd angles. They looked broken, but Dib could see the orb they pivoted on was still holding them all in place well. Dib looked around cautiously for the Bigfoot. He couldn't see it. He hoped it had given up the chase after the bang.

"Can't you put those things on autopilot?" Dib screams down at him.

"I'M NOT UNCONSCIOUS, YOU DAMNED WORM, AND I DON'T INTEND TO BE WITH THAT BEAST AFTER US!" Zim screamed back, scratching at his eyes still. Dib gave him points for correctly using a swear word. He hooked his leg over the branch and pulled himself up.

"Can you move?" Dib asks.

Zim rubbed at his eyes one last time, giving a few experimental blinks. He righted himself, holding up a finger when Dib looked too curious, and strained his hearing for the Bigfoot. He could hear it, stumbling through the trees, but far away. Zim lifted himself up to Dib, pulling him off the branch to carry him. The Voot wasn't far from them. Zim had made it about halfway there when he could hear the Bigfoot coming in their direction. It wasn't a perfect angle for them—it was searching for something; but Zim allowed himself to believe it was smart enough not to go for them just in case Dib had had another flash grenade. Zim lowered himself down enough that he could move through the trees at a level with few branches in his way. Once they hit the clearing, he set his palm on a portion of the Voot and Dib could hear the lid opening.

Zim dropped him inside, falling in himself. To see the inside of the Voot appear out of thin air as the lid opened was trippy enough. Dib fell onto his stomach to the floor. He could hear Zim starting the Voot up behind him. It lifted into the sky, starting on its way towards the base. Once it was set on autopilot Zim collapsed beside him, face down, his PAK whirring in time with the Voot's lid closing.

"Thanks." Dib breathed.

Zim turned his head and blinked at him, slowly, purposefully. Dib was wondering if he'd broken something in the alien until he finally spoke. "What is the purpose of this 'thanks'?"

Dib laughed, partially out of nerves; until he realized that Zim wasn't laughing along with him. "You're not joking?"

"No, I'm always serious."

Dib started to laugh again, first out of disbelief, then exasperation, then with the knowledge that Zim WAS serious. He tapered off, giving Zim a look. "It's… it's to show gratitude."

"Gratitude? What for?"

"You helped me, and I appreciated that. So, to show my gratitude I said: 'thank you'."

"I know what the purpose is for. But why bother?" Zim questioned. Dib sighed and shook his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before he could continue.

"Ok. Look at it this way. If you don't learn to say, 'thank you', how do you keep any friends you make?" Dib asks incredulously.

"I do not need friends." Zim says matter-of-factly. He turned over, his PAK propping him up slightly, and debated taking up the pilot's seat.

"Everyone needs friends." Dib counters.

"The Ghsolcknor of-"

"I don't care about the Gloshnor of whatever!"

"It's pronounced-"

"I DON'T CARE!" Dib shouts, almost bursting into laughter.

Zim was blinking at him again, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. Dib saw his face, the lack of eyebrows making his expression downright hysterical and he burst out laughing yet again. He was full on into a giggle fit at this point. Zim glowered at him, with his antenna lowering down to his skull. He sat up, puling himself into the pilot's seat. Dib coughed himself into submission, finally, calming down enough that he wasn't going to fall back into a laughing fit. He sighed contently.

"I do appreciate it," Dib says. Zim was silent.

He swiveled his chair to look at Dib. Zim knocked his bare foot against Dib's leg to get his attention. Dib looked down at him. Zim didn't speak, just pushed Dib's leg again before turning back around. Dib stared a moment, unsure what that was supposed to mean, before he got up and let his bag slide off his back. He laid out on the cushioned seat with a sigh.

Zim gave him a quick side-eye before turning his attention onto inspecting his own ankle. He had to be sure it had healed properly; or he'd have to rebreak it for a proper set. He grimaced, finding some of the bones had not set properly. He'd deal with that later. He glanced over to see Dib was already relaxing into the loveseat.

Zim found the action odd regardless, as Dib was in a small space with his nemesis and this was about the half a dozenth time that he'd left himself in such a vulnerable situation around Zim. It was bad enough when he just invaded the base without a proper plan. This was much worse. Zim doubted Dib was unaware of the fact; and yet, he felt safe enough to relax, or Tallest forbid sleep, on the Voot. His lack of self-preservation was almost concerning.

Zim paused a moment. He hadn't tossed Dib to his death after he knocked him out. Zim supposed, that perhaps, that may be a reason for the lax attitude. The very presence of a lax attitude annoyed him on some level. Humans were all at once all too aware and unaware of their own mortality.

Zim looked at Dib with a sideways glance. Dib had taken his glasses off, setting them to hang off his shirt collar. Zim waited, patiently, until Dib's breathing had leveled out. He turned to see him finally asleep. Zim swiveled the pilot's seat so he could lean closer. He plucked the glasses from Dib's collar, undoing their fold so he could twirl them again. Dib twitched, cracked an eye open to see Zim toying with his glasses, and then closed them again with a breathy chuckle.

"Just don't break them," he says. Zim hummed in response. The glasses were fragile, but not that fragile. Zim looked at him gain.

Dib was fragile. He, admittedly, was stronger than Zim ever gave him credit for. But, humans were inherently more fragile than Irkens. The mere existence of the glasses were proof enough to Zim of that. The fact Dib needed them just to see was both fascinating and worrying. Zim turned them over thoughtfully. He couldn't pinpoint when his hatred for Dib had started to wane. Typically, Invaders succeeded in destroying any opposition posed to them within a short time frame. Zim not only failed to do that, but he had found he didn't want to after a few years. The little dance the two played with each other had been too fun. Dib presented a real challenge. Even as Zim had grown more competent in his schemes he still fought with him rather than kill him—it was fun and he had no one else to fight with who could come to par with Dib except perhaps Gaz, and he wasn't risking that she wouldn't bring a water balloon if he ever offered they spar—but Zim had given up truly maiming Dib a long time ago. Not that Dib knew that. Zim had been careful not to let Dib realize the shift. Some silent inclinations of a sliced artery here, a particularly harsh punch or kick there, and the illusion stayed strong.

Zim leaned back in the pilot's seat. His thoughts drifted towards the previous week. He stopped twirling the glasses and let his arm hang over the side of the chair. He didn't want to think about that. He wanted to think about anything but that. His PAK kicked in with a soft whir and Zim grimaced. His ankle still hurt.