I'm going to apologise in advance for my extended absence. Another apology goes out for the other absence that will probably come after this. :P Sorry guys. I promise things will clear up once I'm out of school. For now, enjoy. I put a lot of effort into this chapter. Had to write it up twice. / Long story. :) Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: Invader Zim & all its charaters are copyright to Nickelodeon Studios & Jhonen Vasquez.

Breathe. It was near impossible to—a battle to gasp for a moment's life suckled between flushed lips. Bodies crashing together in sultry waves, an ocean of hormones and heat, the taste alluring to any adolescent yearning for the space to spread his wings.

Breathe. Struggling, his throat's closing up; there's no air in this place and the endless push of the crowd is sucking the oxygen from his lungs. This is familiar. This mindless indulgence of young wishing to be older and older thinking that they're young.

BREATHE! Dib threw his weight into the wall of people, forcing a split second opening through which he darted in-between before the waves took control again and the ocean of people closed into a solid vibrating mass once more. Instantly, he was greeted with the unfriendly solidity of the wall's black-washed cement blocks—damn industrial designing. Panting raggedly, he bent over, sliding his hands onto his thighs for support. Ignoring the growing tremors in his arms and legs, he patiently waited for the pieces of cracked concrete to line up correctly again, instead of spin around in frustratingly erratic patterns like they were.

Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. Dib could understand his being upset over the appearance of an old enemy, but perhaps he shouldn't have given into that silk-speaking druggie's suggestions so quickly. Shit, he didn't even know what he'd taken. He barely remembered even taking anything.

Breathe, Dib.

He sucked in a shaky breath, instantly regretting it as his head gave an uncomfortable lurch, his brain feeling like it was swelling inside his skull.

Dib, Breathe.

I'm trying. I'm trying, goddamnit—stop pestering me. He tried to pull in another breath and this one left him on his knees. He crossed his arms over his belly. That's odd. His hands were on the floor. Palms down, supporting his bent form.

Dib, Breathe! Dib gagged sickeningly, and his eyes rolled back into his head as the pair of arms crossed over his stomach pulled him to his feet. A figure, sporting a near-anorexic body and no identity, tugged and pushed a path to the doors, those conspicuous, hulking doormen once again eyeballing the lithe figure of the boy as he passed over the threshold.

Out on the street, the stranger pulled Dib to the side, keeping a sharp ear on his shallow breathing as he leaned him up against the wall, which Dib promptly slid down, landing rather bluntly on the concrete sidewalk.

" Shit! " The boy knelt down quickly, catching Dib before he slumped to the side. Holding him upright with one hand, he lifted Dib's head with the other, looking in the half-closed eyes, listening to his breathing. He sighed softly. " Jeez Dib… th' hell happened so bad to you.. "

Turning on his feet, he slid an arm behind Dib, the other pulling one of the boy's hands over the stranger's shoulders. Hauling both of them up, he began to head down the pitch black street, tugging the near-unconscious boy along with him.

Unbelievable, the place was still here. The nameless boy looked in not-so-surprised awe at the aged house, surrounded by normalcy and shabby suburban homes, yet still looking as technologically advanced as ever—a scientific and artful beauty to some. To others, a shiny prison in a field of pretty weeds.

Pulling Dib once again closer to him, the boy had taken one step towards the front walk, when a shrill cry sounded far to his right, causing him to startle and clutch his rescue in fear of dropping him again.

" DIB!!! " The shrill cry belonged to a tall man, looking rather dirty and perhaps smelly also, and the stranger couldn't help but take a step back as the man raced up to them, instantly reaching for the frail body at his side. The only thing that made him let go of Dib, was the tone of the man's voice—he sounded genuinely panicked about the appearance of the teenager. Somehow the man looked familiar though..

" Jesus Christ! Oh my god.. what.. how, what happened? Why is he like this?.. Why is he like this!? " Suddenly he realized the shrill cries were being aimed at him, in the form of a sputtered question. Switching his eyes from Dib to the man, he was met with a frightened but suddenly angry glare. Finally, he spoke, caught off guard and stuttering due to the expression.

" I—uhm, I found him, like this.. in the club.. "

" What club? Were you with him!? What's wrong with him!? "

He swallowed, gripping his hands together in a stupid habitual cross-fingered position. " No, no I wasn't with him.. I found him at the side of the crowd shaking.. I think he took something a little strong. "

Dwicky, now cradling Dib in his arms, turned and headed quickly towards the front door, followed closely by the stranger. " Open the door—please. "

Silly guidance counselor courtesies, always spilling out unexpectedly.

As soon as the door was open, Dwicky maneuvered inside, moving so carefully to avoid collision between Dib and the door frame. He didn't pay attention to the stranger anymore, just the shivering boy in his arms. Crossing over to the couch, he laid Dib on the moth-chewed cushions, and as he reached up to brush aside several strands of charcoal hair from the sweat-soaked forehead, his heart sank into his stomach.

" Christ, he's burning up.. " Out of nowhere, the stranger appeared at Dwicky's side, offering a glass of water and a cool, damp washcloth. For a moment, the counselor looked up at the stranger, dumbfounded, like the kid had just materialized out of the wall.

Dib gave a choking gasp, and the interest in the stranger and his odd appearance was immediately forgotten and Dwicky snatched up the washcloth, slipping it over Dib's forehead and neck, wiping away the warm coat of sweat to replace it with cool water. Resting the cloth on Dib's forehead, Dwicky took the glass of water from the stranger, tipping it just barely at Dib's dry lips.

For a moment, nothing happened, and Dwicky thought that Dib might be drowning in a teaspoon of water. But then, the muscles in Dib's throat contracted, just barely, and he swallowed. Both Dwicky and the stranger simultaneously released the hold on their lungs, exhaling in relief. Dwicky steadily eased another tiny sip into Dib's mouth, as the stranger found himself a seat across the room, settling into a rather large, dusty wing-backed chair.

Spinning. Why am I spinning. Making me nauseous. Can't feel anything. My legs. My hands. Was I in an accident? No. The club. The floor. My hands on the floor, but.. around my waist. God, my head hurts. Feels hot and cold and it hurts so much.

Dib pressed his fingertips into the crown of his head. He didn't dare take the heels of his palms from his eyes, he didn't know where he was, but wherever it was, it was insanely bright, which was not aiding his headache.

I'm shivering. I can't stop shaking. God, where the hell am I? I can't remember anything other than the floor of the damn club. And feeling nauseous.. someone pushed my stomach in. No—the picked me up. Who the hell picked me up? Ugh—my hands are all sweaty.

Not wanting to expose his eyes to the light, but more disgusted by the sticky warm sweat of his hands, Dib gently relieved his palms from his closed eyes, letting them first adjust to the brightness through his eyelids before opening them, blinkingly.

Everything was white, so blindingly snow white. But as he looked, searched for something, anything, the brightness began to dim and face into muted hues. Those became darker, deeper shades, and lines—albeit extremely fuzzy and blurred—began to form.

His room. He was lying in his bed, covered all the way up to his neck and.. tucked.. in? Dib never had a mother, so he was unfamiliar with maternal habits. However, the affection in the action hung around him like that odd, icky bad-milk smell in grocery stores.

Sitting up proved to be quite a task, as Dib only got about an inch off the bed before becoming exhausted, and falling back to the mattress. Pulling his arms up from beneath the hot-blanket cavern, Dib again tried sitting up, this time scooting his hands to his sides and pushing up. It worked, and as he bent over his legs slightly, a near-dry washcloth plopped into his lap. Bracing his arms behind him, Dib stared at the neatly folded bit of material as he caught his breath, wondering how it got there. Surely he didn't put it there—he didn't believe in such mundane comforts.

I still don't remember. I know damn well the floor didn't beat me up. What the hell happened to me last night?

Lifting his head, Dib took in familiar bits, to confirm his location.

Hmm.. door..

desk..

papers, chair..

window..

…

.. man?

Dib stared confoundedly at the slumped over shadow resting in a chair not a foot from the head of his bed. How had be missed that? Focusing his gaze, he began to slowly recognize the tousle of black hair, unusually dirty, and the too-big button down business shirt, the casual slacks. Just as he brought his eyes back up from the pants, the ruffle of messy hair twitched and began to stir. A soft groaned, and Dib knew the counselor was waking up, with a nasty crick in his neck, no doubt.

His eyes narrowed.

Exhausted, confused, and burdened still with a gnawing headache, Dib was in no mood for explanations. He would have snapped at any stranger sitting in his bedroom, however..

.. something about this one really riled his angry side.

Hope that satisfied you all's tastebuds. :3 G'night!