Note: Alright, so I forgot. There will be one more romantic-type relationship, but it's with Ivan and Gloria. I forgot them when I started the story.

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"Remind me why we're doing this again?" Zim muttered, dragging his feet.

"Because you need a decent set of clothes if you'll be staying, and I wouldn't pass up watching you humiliate yourself for the world." Dib grinned, pushing him faster.

"Dun' be so mean, Dib," Tiana pleaded, "Zim's our big brother."

"Don't worry," He assured her, "Zim and I go back several years, and this is not mean in any sense of the word, compared to what we used to do. Right, Zim?"

"Oh, of course, Dib. The word you're looking for, Tiana, is not mean, but obnoxious." Zim admonished.

"Hey!"

Tiana giggled, and Mikko smiled, elbowing Zim. She motioned to a department store nearby, and led them in. Instantly, a dozen salesladies in gaudy aprons and heavy makeup descended on them. From perfume to watches to shoes to nylons, product after product was shoved in their faces. Finally, Zim latched onto a word he knew.

"Sweater! Sweater-lady, you!" The others retreated, casting frustrated glares at the triumphant woman.

"Oh we have all kinds of sweaters on sale, especially now that Christmas is over. Sales sales sales!"

"Uh, yes, that's wonderful, but--"

"And as you can see here, we have all kinds of sweaters. There's cold weather sweaters and warm weather sweaters, light sweaters, heavy sweaters, wool sweaters, polyester sweaters, polyester-wool blend sweaters, itchy sweaters, comfy sweaters, sweaters with hoods, sweaters with sleeves twice as long as your arms, sweaters with food stains--that's only decoration, don't look so alarmed--sweaters with witticisms, sweaters with band names, sweaters, sweaters, sweaters!"

With each "sweater", she tossed an article of clothing at Zim. Before long, he was no longer visible. Only a mound of sweaters marked where he stood. Tiana gaped, and Dib bit his finger hard. He knew Zim would ream him if he started laughing now.

The sweater mound trembled, then exploded, flinging fabric in every direction. "CLOTHING DRONE!" He shrieked, "I ONLY WANT A FEW SWEATERS, IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK? For the love of Ir..." He coughed hard for a minute, then recovered. "For the love of Earth, just show me where they are. I'll decide from there."

"Oh," She mumbled. "Well, why didn't you say so? This way."

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"Orange looks good on you," Mikko stated as they walked back to the house.

Loaded with bags, Zim found it difficult to respond, but managed, "Really? I still do not understand this importance of matching color schemes. Hyumans place social importance on this knowledge?"

She nodded, ruefully. "Some more than others." She stuck her hands in the pouch of her hoodie, eyes on the ground.

Frowning, Zim ventured, "And this is the basis of large groups of hyumans having 'fun'? In togetherness?"

She nodded stiffly.

"And you have such a group?"

No response.

"Mikko?"

Silence.

Zim's scowl increased. "Your silence indicates you are not part of said large groupings. You have no friends?"

She shrugged, glancing over her shoulder to check on Tiana, who was deeply engaged in an argument with Dib on the nature of gummibears. "Dib."

"The Dib is it?" He snorted. "You don't seem to dress poorly, it makes no sense that you--"

"I don't talk." She kicked a snowclod.

"What do you mean, you don't talk? You talk to me, you talk to Dib, in fact you talk a hundred times better than you did two years ago."

She smiled at the compliment, but it faded quickly. "I don't like talking a lot." She shrugged again. "Here, if you don't talk, you're too good."

"What do you mean by that?"

"It's what people think. You're too good for them."

Zim puffed, dragging the bags. "That makes no sense. Nothing on this dirtball does. Including the reason you and your sister dragged me to every department in the store when I only came for sweaters and this hyuman named Levi."

Chuckling, she reached over and mussed his holographic hair. Grabbing a few of the bags from him, she trudged to the door, knocking for Della to let them in.

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Cold, smooth skin. Sharp. Deadly. Scratching at her flesh, ripping through her sockets. Darkness that held her down, defiled her, tore life from her womb. Day after day, month after month, but in the dark, time lost meaning. Hope lost power. She lost humanity. An unseen force squeezed her middle, driving air from her lungs.

"You are mine."

Shaking... she felt hands gripping her shoulders. A voice--not cruel, but frightened--drew her away from the horror. Her eyes cracked open, and a sepia-tone world washed into view. Ivan bent over her, jerking her back and forth frantically.

"Gloria, Gloria wake up! It's just a nightmare, wake up!"

She opened her mouth, trying to say something, but words failed. Relieved to see her conscious, Ivan Membrane let go, leaning against the headboard of the bed.

"Gloria, are you alright? You were screaming and..." He gestured helplessly.

Forcing a smile, she croaked, "I'm alright. Thank you, though."

Hesitantly, he stretched his arms out toward her. He looked so confused without his labcoat and goggles. She leaned into his embrace, breathing in his scent.

"Was it... was it the same nightmare?" He asked.

She clenched her eyes. "Yes."

She could feel his stomach and chest muscles tighten along with his grip as he tried to check his anger. "Ivan, don't... please, it's not worth it. Just forget about--"

"Forget?! Forget what that monster did to you? Forget... how could you even suggest it?"

"Shhhh," she laid a finger on his lips. "Because I want to forget, Ivan. If you try to pay them back, who knows what might happen." She laid her head on his chest. "I don't want to go back." She whispered. "Let it be."

He stroked her hair, gently, lovingly, like he used to. Kissing her head, he murmured, "I won't let anything take my Glory away, not ever again."