For what might possibly have been twenty seconds, there was the nerve-shaking crrrrrrRRRRRRReeeaaaakkk of the nearly broken door. It seemed to get stuck on its ill-fitting hinges after that, and took several large shoves before bursting open with a nasty cracking sound. Dib, who hadn't been expecting it, fell very neatly on his face and had a mouthful of musty carpet.

He could have sworn he heard a soft intake of breath from… somewhere, and tried to leap to his feet, failing miserably. Having learned that such movements were only meant to be performed by trained stuntmen, he pushed himself up more carefully, and managed, aside from bruised knees, to stand up straight and spit the carpet fluff out with an air of quiet dignity.

Great. Now the entry had been managed, it was time to get down to business.

"Hello?" he shouted quietly. Hearing no answer, he shouted again, not so quietly. "HELLOOO!"

Huh… whoever was in here seemed to be mocking him, so he yelled at it to stop. It only mocked him further after this, so he sat down in a huff, wondering how he could possibly lure out the inhabitant who may or may not have left already. Pure stubbornness told him that it hadn't, so he jumped up (slowly, mind you) and attempted to scan the darkness even though he knew very well that his vision would be quite useless.

At the same time, he shuffled further into the room, becoming accustomed to the ticking of the clock but somehow more frightened by the hulking shadows.

In a repetitive fashion, Dib scanned the room four, five, six times, still seeing nothing that appeared to be alive. But there was definitely something in here with the boy, watching him, probably, either with hostile or curious eyes, he couldn't tell. Dib stopped walking. The tingling in his spine was back, and it seemed to centre from a certain direction.

It's amazing how seldom people tend to look up.

The saying alone made Dib shudder, an icy feeling suddenly replacing the tingling in his neck. It was what a guide had said during a dropbear hunt, if he remembered; but the saying now made the boy involuntarily look up. The ceiling was too dark to see, but maybe he could find a l-

Suddenly he was on his back again with a very sore head. Stupid him, forgetting to watch for cushions. This time, he could have sworn he heard a voice gasp, or maybe it was a trick of the wind. One way or another, he was caught completely by surprise when burnt topaz met glowing magenta.

Zim was clinging to the rafters directly above him, suspending himself by three slender metal legs. His red eyes looked wide and startled at suddenly being found, and he hung quite still, seemingly trying to camouflage. It might have worked if he'd closed those luminous red eyes (they stood out like beacons) but that would mean taking his sights off the human below, who might at any second reveal some kind of gun-looking projectile launcher, or simply leap up and bite him in the throat. As it was, the boy seemed to be pinned to the spot by his pinpoint stare. The human looked lost for words, and to his surprise, he found himself equally tongue-tied.

Dib's tongue was flapping around uselessly in his mouth, having been forsaken by his brain for the moment. For a long, long time the two stared dumbly at each other, human and Irken, before at last Dib found the use of his tongue.

"Zim… you can come down…"

The alien's eyes narrowed marginally, and Dib was pretty much resigned to the Irken either staying put, or jumping down on top of him to eat his face, but he pouted a little when there was no response. So he tried to elaborate.

"Zim, I'm not going to hurt you. See? No weapons…" He raised his hands to show he was unarmed. Zim seemed to accept by slowly lowering himself on his spiderlegs, finding more purchase on the way down until he dropped gently onto the floor, a few metres from Dib. Expecting some kind of shrewd (or spectacularly dumb) opening remark from the alien, the teen was a little disappointed when Zim just stood there, staring at him in a slightly dreamlike way.

"Umm…" Dib's attempt at provoking conversation fell short, but the alien now spoke himself.

"You found me." His voice was dull and flat, so unlike the voice Dib remembered that he frowned slightly. What happened to "So, you have discovered the mighty ZIM, stinky hyooman!". What happened to speaking in third person? His voice was hoarse too, and slightly slurred, as if it hadn't been exercised in long time. Who ever heard of Zim not talking?

Dib replied, "Ah… yes."

Zim's eyes didn't change their dull expression, but flicked to a point over Dib's shoulder.

"You broke my door." His tone didn't change either.

Dib turned around, and there was the door he'd entered by hanging hopelessly on one hinge, presumably from when he'd barged through it. "Er… yea. Sorry." he tried pathetically, face heating up a little. This was definitely not how he'd expected a reunion to look.

There was more silence between them.

"So… how have you been?" the boy tried again.

It wasn't until Zim stepped into a slightly better light that Dib realised how tactless that remark had sounded. Seen close up, the little Irken looked pale and drawn, and the skin that was exposed was crisscrossed by a network of scars, mostly old, but some more recent. One of his wrists appeared to be roughly bandaged. His clothes came as a bit of a surprise; he was in a long woollen jumper about a size too big (and it seemed maroon was still the fashion). A scarf wrapped around his waist and over his right shoulder to hold together a rip in the top, the sleeves had been obviously cut short to free his hands, and another hole was cut in the back for his PAK. Under the coat he wore a simple pair of jeans, and no footwear. It was such a strange look that Dib had to bite his tongue to withhold a comment.

Zim was looking Dib up and down at the same time. Not much had changed about the boy's appearance; he'd grown taller, obviously, he still wore his trademark trench coat and boots, but his scythe-lock had lengthened and developed a lightning-shaped jag near the end, and the blue not-smiling face shirt had been forsaken for a deep purple one with an exploding sun on the front.

Zim observed the latter with a slight hint of uneasiness on his face, before tilting his face back up to that of the youth.

"So, what are you doing here, Dib? Did you want me for human experiments?" he didn't even raise his voice at the last part, and Dib became more concerned for his enemy.

"No, I don't want you for experiments, I…" he shifted his gaze, not wanting to admit anything uncomfortable. "..there was a storm, and I had to find shelter…"

Zim flicked his antennae as a particularly violent gust made the brick walls shudder. "So what's new?" he said, sounding more flat than before.

Dib cocked his head. "Eh…? Uh, skool's pretty crap…" Zim's tone was making him fidgety.

"Skool was 'crap', as you call it, for the three years Zim attended that stinky maggot-infested meat hole."

Huh. At least he was talking normally again, but it sounded forced to Dib's ears.

The alien was moving away to sit down on one of the cushions strewn about, and Dib, after an inquiring look, sat on one himself. They both settled back, trying to relax despite the symphony of the dead that was sounding outside. The meagre light that had been slipping through the door and the draped windows had faded in the time Dib had been in there, and he could still hear the wind roaring, and debris hitting the walls. It wouldn't be safe to go home.

The Irken had slouched into a relaxed pose, his head resting against the wall behind him and eyes shut. The human yawned unconsciously at the sight, his own eyes slipping closed. He hadn't realised today had taken so much out of him, but the boy found himself slipping more and more down the wall, into his cushion. He managed to blink his eyes open to see the alien watching him, and he began to feel awkward all over again.

"Umm…"

"You cannot go home tonight, Dib-worm." At first Dib thought the alien might have been threatening him, but he realised the Irken's attention was on the storm outside. It was nice of Zim to acknowledge his predicament without making a mockery of it, but then, the alien didn't seem to be himself today.

"Yeah, I'd get blown to bits." Dib jokingly agreed, not seeing the Irken's little start.

Zim asked the question he's been afraid to ask. "Are you planning on staying with Zim tonight?"

Dib ignored how weird that sounded and nodded his head giddily, before remembering his manners. "Yes, I mean, if you don't mind, of course. Only for the night."

Zim nodded slowly, his reply sounding distant. "Only for the night…"

Having sorted this, the Irken rummaged around a bit, finding a couple of sheets that may or may not have been blankets or drapes, and was arranging them into a semi-comfortable nest for himself. Having made his sleeping arrangements, he settled in immediately and turned away from Dib, grumbling a half-hearted 'goodnight'.

Dib replied, sorting out his own 'blankets' into something that might keep him adequately warm. He burrowed himself in, curling up to try and stay warm. The howling of the wind did little to help him, and after a deal of wriggling, he managed to get almost comfortable.

Dib opened his eyes a crack to peek at the alien, and found that Zim wasn't asleep at all. His red eyes were open and fixed out on the room, and possibly on the clock in the far corner. His lines were slightly rigid, as if he were standing guard. Or sitting guard. Dib felt somewhat comforted by the sight of his rival apparently 'watching over' the room (loath he was to admit it, of course) and eventually slipped into sleep.

A/N: Yay, a chapter where some stuff happens!
Had a nightmare trying to write this; plenty of distractions and blocks for me, (the main one was Zim's clothes) so I am very happy to be finished.
I drew about a million sketches of Zim's attire in an attempt to get a feel for it. While I was thinking this weird image of Zim in a tailcoat much too big for him came to mind, and made me laugh. Zim looks adorable in clothes that don't fit him. I think there's something wrong with my mind e_e

Eh, enjoy :D and thanks for all the positive feedback! You people ROCK!

Lostseason: You are not a good writer? LIES! Thank you, I'm glad you enjoy my cliffhangers :D

Kazehana23: Because that is the way of things... ): I hope you enjoy this anti-cliffhanger!

AshSpark: Yes, I do enjoy writing those head-wars. And Dib's head-wars are especially entertaining. No evil laugh can compare to Zim's.

Yanagi of the Wind: Wow, I think you explained your feelings pretty well there :'D thank you so much! And since everyone seems to think the secret land of tacos is Mexico, I won't argue

Alicia: You shall find out... :)