Chapter 2! Oh so much better then the start chapter, hopefully.

The kicker of inspiration that started off THIS chapter was:

"No matter how many breaths that you took
You still couldn't breathe . . .
No matter how many nights that you'd lie wide awake
To the sound of the poison rain
Where did you go?
Where did you go?
Where did you go . . .?"
-Hurricane by 30 Seconds to Mars

So, as I said, Friday updates because my weeks are KILLER. -_-

Enjoy.

Chapter 2
"Welcome Home?"

My head was pressed up against the icy window, boredly, staring mindlessly out at the rain outside.

The weather had warmed up enough to melt the snow, hence, the pouring outside my house. I was debating on running outside to savor in what I felt like I had missed, or continue to watch it. To be honest, running outside was starting to look more appealing by the minute, not simply for my pleasure, but if I caught a cold, that meant no Skool. Meaning I wouldn't have to deal with all those damned, idiotic people looking at me like I was some kind of enigma. Which I was, but that didn't mean I wanted to be stared at!

But I sighed, deciding against it. I was no coward. I wasn't going to back out of this.

Dib, of course, had been on the phone with my father all day, speaking in the other room with him. I ignored it, for the most part, as I would've only heard a one-sided conversation and Dib didn't seem to be talking much anyways. The only time I heard him speak was to explain on what the doctors had said about my brain.

Absent-mindedly (with no pun intended), I reached up to place two fingers on my temple, wondering why my brain had decided to betray me so unjustly. It was annoying; I wanted to know why I had gone downstairs. I'd spent the better part of the first hour of being home tearing apart my room for some kind of clue, but all I found was homework I had half-finished (in my hand writing, unfortunately, confirming the fact I had indeed already begun Skool and it was not just Dib messing with me) and a few notes on medications I didn't recognize. At first, this had made me suspicious, until I found a half-assed rough draft (most likely for science, though it didn't have any mention of the class on the paper; probably because I never counted on losing my memory) about them and their uses. I tossed the papers in a folder, in case I needed to use them for later reference in my classes.

But despite my extremely thorough efforts, I came up empty handed. Nothing that triggered any helpful flashbacks, no strange objects that gave me any insight to anything. The really annoying thing though was that I would probably not care if I couldn't remember a few months. If it weren't for the fact I still didn't know why I had gone down into the lab, I would be perfectly content.

. . .

I really hated that.

"What do you mean you're not coming?"

Dib's suddenly hushed hiss caught my attention, my brow rising as my head turned towards the kitchen, where I could see his shadow pacing back and forth impatiently and then still in his irritation. I rolled my eyes shortly after though, looking back out the window.

My father, as I previously mentioned, is a very absent figure in mine and Dib's life. I didn't really mind, as I preferred my space, and Dib was more then enough of a presence (hovering nuisance) to keep me company. Plus, my father was a busy man, something I didn't begrudge him for. Although I will admit he seemed to have his priorities backwards in what society considered appropriate (meaning he put his job before his kids, instead of the situation being vise-versa). So I didn't know why Dib expected my dad to come home just because of my new dilemma. As far as my dad was concerned, he probably just thought I was being forgetful.

"You can't just-!" Dib cut off as my father interrupted him. I listened to my brother let out an aggravated noise. "You know what, never mind. I don't care whether you show up or not. I just thought you'd consider that she might!"

I heard him slam the phone back onto the receiver and the scratch of the chair as he slumped down into it, sighing. I leaned back, to peer into the kitchen. Dib's back was mostly to me, his elbows up the table, pinching the bridge of his nose. I made a slight face of pity, a small portion of my heart going out to my brother for that moment.

While I understood my father's rather flaky attitude, Dib and my dad had never gotten along. When Dib was a child, it had been an easier relationship, as my father had always assumed Dib would grow out of this 'hobby'. But now that he was 17 and my father was trying to convince Dib to 'grow up' and become 'find a real career'. All in all, they had stopped getting along by the time Dib was 15, but it was clear they still had hope the other would eventually come around.

A fact which was made even more obvious by Dib's expectations that my father would come home.

I shook my head, pressing my forehead back up against the cool glass. The sooner Dib figured out that we weren't Dad's priority, the better things would be around the house.

"Gaz?"

I sighed at his call, but responded. "Yeah, Dib?"

"What do you feel like for dinner tonight? Does Bloaty's sound good?"

Really? My brow rose. That was what he wanted to ask me after an argument with Dad?

Now mind you, I wasn't unhappy that Dib didn't want to have some deep, meaningful talk about my opinions on Dad (one he really should've known by now) but this was a bit out of character for him. But I shrugged it off, turning my attention back towards the rain.

"Yeah," I replied, "Sounds fine."

Normally, I spent most of my time locked up in my room. But I was so sick of investigating in there that I just needed to be away from it for a little while. I was so so sick of wondering, I just needed to do something mindless. And, last I remembered, I didn't have any new games to play. Nothing was ever good on TV anymore, so these were the reasons that had led me up to just sitting here, staring out at the rain.

"Okay," Dib replied, and I heard him get up to call and order in.

Bot Dib and myself could drive and we had separate means of transportation. Yes, we had two cars. Dib's car, however, he'd rigged up with enough weaponry and defense systems worthy of a sci-fi movie. His was black and sleek, something he took extremely matriculate care of. Mine, on the other hand, was a dark magenta color, so dark it was almost black as well. They were gifts from my dad, each received when we'd turned sixteen. I think this is where Dib found new hope, since we were both stunned when he remembered our birthdays. But I had a feeling one of his workers that handled his 'personal life' had told him and his response was initial surprise before he had carelessly just ordered a car for us, that would suit our preferences.

But that was Dib for you. He had to try and find hope in everyone and everything.

I groaned as a headache began to come on, turning my head so a whole side of my face was pressing against the cool, soothing glass, my eyes closing. The doctors had warned me I might get these. Frequently.

. . . Did I mention how much I was hating my life right now?

Eventually, when the ice of the window faded from my natural body heat warming it up, I stood, with an aggravated grunt. Dib came into the room, pulling his coat on, eying me with concern as I massaged my temples.

"Hey," He commented, placing his hand lightly on my arm. A rather dangerous move, but it seemed his concern overruled his natural terror of me. "You want me to just make them deliver it? You shouldn't be home alone."

"I'm just going to go take a nap," I insisted, eying his hand purposefully.

He removed it, making a face, contemplating his next move.

I rolled my eyes. "Go, Dib. I'll be fine, really."

The reluctance was still clear on his face, but he sighed, nodding, and pulling the hood over his head. "Alright. Call me if you need anything, okay? I'll be back in 20 minutes, tops."

"Alright, sheesh, now shoo!" I ordered, heading towards the stairs and shooting him a look. "Go get me my Bloaty's."

Dib smiled at me. This uncanny ability my brother (and only my brother) had was finding most of my backtalk and nasty remarks endearing. I had no idea why, and still do not know to this day, but I guess it's just a family thing. Or a skill he's learned from living with me for this long. Either way, it was still kind of weird but oh well.

I heard the door shut behind him, the dulled noise of raise momentarily filling the house when the door opened before it was closed again. Still rubbing my temples, I trudged up the stairs into my room, shutting the door behind me. I left the curtains open, as I had always liked looking at the rain. My room was a bit disorganized, as I had thrown some things on the floor in my frustration, but they went ignored, for the moment. I made note to clean then up later but right now, I was just too tired to give a damn. For a little while, I watched the rain. But eventually, sleep did start creeping upon me, so I turned my back to my window, my eyes beginning to droop closed.

I wasn't sure how long I was out when thunder woke me up again, accompanied by a flash of lightning.

My eyes snapped open, into my room. A glance at my clock informed me I'd only been asleep for about five minutes (great . . .). I groaned in irritation, but at least my head felt a little better. My still dreary eyes glanced habitually around my room, to ensure nothing besides the thunder had woken me and that nothing else was amiss. My eyes roamed to the floor, the square imprint of the windows shadow and some other figure standing in my window, staining the carpet with the image. I was completely tired and my lids were drooping, begging me to close them and I allowed it.

. . . . .

. . . . .

. . . Wait a second . . .!

My eyes snapped open as I sat up, abruptly, spinning around on my bed with alarm and fury. A wave of vertigo hit me for my troubles, but I stared out my window, in complete disbelief a moment before my eyes narrowed in confusion, darting around. Then I humphed, as it clearly wasn't a person in my window. Just the damned tree that had always been there.

I hissed, my eyes darting back to the floor. Indeed, the tree branches were the shadows I had seen, not a person. They didn't look particularly humanoid, but then again, neither had the shadow, now that I thought about it. My hand went to my eyes, covering them as I sighed. My headache must have just been making me see things. A storm outside and sleep deprivation probably weren't helping my paranoid imagination either.

With a groan, I just rolled back onto my bed, falling asleep all over again.

"Stupid storm," I muttered, drifting back into sleep.

A day passed.

Apparently, for once, I was wrong about my father's normally vacant presence.

He showed up early Sunday morning, the gentle knock on my door waking me. At first I had thought it was Dib and was prepared to scold him for waking me until he called through the door.

"Daughter?" Another knock. "Are you awake?"

My brow rose at the unexpectedness, but I sat up, having changed into my pajamas after eating last night (before going right back to sleep, which I was instructed to get a lot of) and pulling the covers off as I got up, opening the door.

"Dad?" I said, blinking the sleep from my eyes. "What are you doing home?"

"Daughter!"

To say I was completely stunned by what happened next would be a gross understatement, but I've got no better way of describing it.

My father hugged me . . . He hugged me . . . Was I hallucinating or something?

But no, I was continuously engulfed in a rather tight, affectionate enough hug that it could pass for one of the one's Dib had forced upon me before. So I stood there, now fully awake and completely baffled.

Just . . . Exactly how much had changed in these past three months that had got me to the point where my father actually listened to my brother, came home when I wasn't at my best, just to hug me? If my hands were free, I would've smacked myself to ensure I wasn't still asleep and having some sick dream that made no sense.

Eventually, my father let go, seeming to eye me warmly. Although you could never tell really, considering 95% of his face was covered, but I just got that kind of vibe from him.

"Eh," I eyed him, trying to keep the silent 'what the hell has gotten into you?' off my face. "Hi Dad."

He placed his hands on my shoulders, peering at me. "How are you, daughter? Have I woken you? Do you need to rest more?"

Alright seriously. Where were the cameras? Or had I just been switched into another dimension thanks to something stupid Dib had done?

Honestly, with what had happened already, I wouldn't have been particularly surprised.

"I'm fine, Dad, really," I insisted, still confused, brushing his hands away. Even with my father, who never before had hugged me, I still did not like being touched.

No exceptions.

"Oh good," He said, sounding pleased. Then he patted me on the head, much more like the touch I was used to from him; like I was a pet more then his kid. The familiarity of this action made me feel less uneasy and I offered him a small smile.

"I thought you weren't coming home," I said, my head angling slightly in my confusion (something I really was feeling a lot of lately; I had a feeling I was going to have to get used to it) as I remembered the rather heated phone-conversation with him and Dib yesterday.

My father chuckled. "Of course I came home! My daughter has lost her brain and I must help her find it. Although," his voice lowered, glancing around conspiratorially. "I will admit, I always thought it would be your brother who I'd be doing this to."

I couldn't help but snicker, but my normal, cautious paranoia was coming over me again. Why was my father, the infamous Professor Membrane, so damned nice? He never made jokes! He said jokes were bad for your health! So why was he cracking them now?

. . . I decided I must have hit my head harder then I thought.

His hand was suddenly under my chin, tiling my face up as he peered at it the way only a scientist could. Now this was more like it. But if he kept switching between the usual Membrane-mode and Father-mode, I was going to get a headache.

"Ah, daughter," He scolded, lightly. "You still have signs of sleep deprivation. Go back to bed and I will wake you again when you've gotten enough sleep."

I was completely beyond comprehension of understanding my father, at least for the moment and just decided that going back to bed would probably be the best plan I could have at the moment. So I just nodded, turned, and went back to sleep.

Because maybe then I would wake up and things would make more sense.

Unfortunately, a few hours later, when I woke on my own this time, it did not.

My father was still home, Dib eying him somehow suspiciously. Oh good. So it wasn't just me who thought our father's presence was strange. Upon my entering the kitchen, still unnoticed by my dad, as he was making toast I think, Dib shot me a look of complete disbelief.

He jerked a thumb towards our dad, mouthing, 'Why is he here?'

I shrugged, making sure to let him know I had absolutely no idea by my facial expression. He frowned, scooping a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and eying the normally absent man, probably going through a list of possibilities in his head. I decided I might as well make my presence known.

"Morning." I commented dryly, getting a bowl down for myself.

Immediately my father turned, beaming at me. "Daughter, have you rested well?"

Still trying to play it cool, I nodded. pouring some cereal into my bowl and retrieving the milk. "Yup."

"Good," he praised, turning back to his work.

As I sat down again, Dib's eyes were wide. The disbelief was clear to both of us at his actions. Our dad, as horrible as this sounds, never asked us about our well-being.

Dib cleared his throat, "Uh, Dad?"

He turned to look at him over his shoulder, inquiringly. "Yes, son?"

"Are you . . . feeling okay?" Dib pressed, peering at him, probably hoping to see some form of illness or another.

Membrane laughed. "Of course! I am always healthy! Now eat your breakfast or you won't be. After all, breakfast is one of the most important meals of the day!"

I wanted to gag.

By the look on Dib's face, he probably did too.

Seriously; What the hell?

Dib looked to me, motioning with his hands for me to try. I just shook my head.

"Just leave it," I muttered, too quiet for our dad to hear. My brother seemed disappointed, but nodded, understanding I probably wouldn't have much success either.

"So, Dib-!"

We both nearly choked on our cereal.

Membrane stared at us, alarmed, but that was beside the point. I coughed, clearing my throat as Dib pounded his chest. Our eyes locked, shock filling them. Dad never called us by our names. In fact they were so unused in his mouth we were pretty sure he didn't even know them. Geez, what other completely insane thing was going to happen today?

"Are you two alright?" He questioned, when we'd composed ourselves.

Dib cleared his throat, nodding, looking down at his cereal. "Yeah, we're fine. Just, um . . . um-."

"There was a fly," I interrupted, shooting him a look that said, 'Smooth.'

Dib returned with a grateful one before looking at our still confused, but getting over it father. "So, what were you saying, Dad?"

"Oh, yes!" Proffessor Membrane seemed pleased at getting back on subject. "How have you and your little foreign friend been getting along, Dib? You two are still chummy with one another, correct?"

My brow rose. Alright now this was just getting ridiculous.

First my dad comes home when I'm sick, then he starts acting all fatherly and making sure we're healthy, then he remembers Dib's name and now he's asking about his social life? Did he have some kind of mid-life crisis recently that I should know about? Then I scowled, glaring at my cereal as a new thought came up.

Or was this just another thing I couldn't remember the reason or details about?

Meanwhile, Dib was giving our father an odd look. "Uh, me and Zim aren't friends, Dad. We're arch-enemies."

My father chuckled, ruffling his hair, which actually wasn't something that was entirely uncommon (phew). "Of course, of course. So should I expect your friend to be coming over anytime soon?"

Dib smacked his hand to his forehead. "No, Dad. Definitely not."

"Oh. I see. You two are fighting? Is it over a girl, son? Because I remember when I was your age-."

"Dad!" Dib shouted, face flushing red. It was evident that neither of us were used to this kind of attention from my father, especially with how easily he misunderstood things and then insisted upon them. "We're not friends! We've never been friends. We hate each other."

This was a true fact. Zim and Dib had never liked each other.

Zim, in case any of you are wondering, is an alien. A well-known fact between my brother and I, but there's a rather large difference of opinions of the subject; Dib is completely obsessed with outing him and I, personally, couldn't care less about it. Sure, I've ended up in situations with the guy when we were kids, where I ended up saving the world (for lack of anything better to do), but I'd never really cared about what happened afterwords. Zim and I had never had any problems with each other, though, like he and Dib had. In fact, I'm pretty sure Zim just detests me on principal, since I am Dib's sister, after all. And I dislike everyone in general, outside of my immediate family (though sometimes them, too, depending on what kind of mood I'm in), so we rarely have communication with one another.

Unless I'm trying to bother Dib. Then I'll wave at Zim, who never failed to give me a confused look back, until recently.

Or, at least, what my mind told me was recently and what was, in fact, actually over three months ago.

It was one of few conversations he and I have ever had and the only one without Dib being there. And all it consisted of was:

"Why do you wave at Zim?"

and my response of-.

"Because it bugs Dib."

And that was literally it. Because then Zim had nodded in awed enlightenment, and proceeded to wave at me as much as possible after that, whenever Dib was around, just to get a kick out of Dib screaming at him, demanding an explanation as to why he was waving at me. Admittedly, it was kind of funny, but aside from that, I had very rare encounters with Zim. And always it was because I was with Dib at the wrong place at the wrong time, or had to go rescue him because he'd gotten stuck somewhere again and Zim was going to blah blah blah blah blah.

Dib and Zim's dynamic, however, as Dib mentioned, are hated rivals, each trying to one-up the other in Zim's constant attempts to take over the world (or, at least, they used to; lately Dib suspected Zim was now just making it his mission in life to piss him off) and Dib's endless (fruitless) efforts to destory those plan of world-domination, those two had been fighting since Middle-Skool. And the whole Skool knew it and had just grown accostomed to them jumping up on tables and yelling psychotic-sounding words at one another. They were so immune, I believe, that everyone pretty much just ignored those two when they were in an even generally close vacinity to one another because all they ever did was fight.

It was kind of annoying, but I, too, had just gotten used to it.

"Oh you poor, demented thing you," Proffessor Membrane chuckled, patting him on the head. Well, at least he was sounding a bit more like himself, even if he was being unaturally affectionate. He interrupted Dib's rant about Zim being an alien that I had tuned out, automatically. "Don't worry, son! I'm sure I'll cure your insanity in no time at all!"

Dib groaned, his head falling onto the table. But he gave my father a thumbs up, nonetheless. "Sure, Dad. Thanks."

I snickered, hiding my amusement in my hand. However, Dib heard, looking up to shoot me an irritated look before just laying his head back down on the table. I hardly minded however, getting up, disposing of the breakfast I wasn't interested in anymore. I had things to do (and also really just wanted to get away from my temporarily insane father) that needed my attention.

Tomorrow was Monday.

And Monday meant only one thing: Skool.

So, if you haven't noticed, I'm just setting up the stage for you all, every bit as much as my characters as the IZ cast, to perform on. And I see how you perform in the form of reviews, though, I refuse to beg for them as that is pressuring and I don't do that kind of stuff.

YES, I know you are all upset with me.

Two chapters and Gaz has only MENTIONED Zim, in a brief, two paragraph description of their near non-existent relations to one another that could barely count as aquaintences, let alone something else? Unacceptable!

BUT YOU ALL SHOULD NOW TO TRUST ME BY NOW (at least, my following-readers; you all how are just discovering my stories of insanity - feel free to mistrust me as you like BUT YOU WILL REGRET IT *evil grin*) AND NOW THAT YOUR SUSPENSE WILL BE WELL WORTH THE WAIT.

Also, Skool is tomorrow (next chapter).

So, who goes to Skool with Dib and Gaz *evil, suggestive smirk*?

That's right.

Our favorite green Irken.

But yes, mind you, as I said, these past chapters, this one, the next one and MAYBE the one after are setting up the playing field. After I've created the arena the story begins to unravel and battle itself into the badassness I am so vigorously aiming for.

Cross your fingers with me in the hope I don't disappoint, because I know I am TERRIFIED right now!

Till the next chapter!