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Woods on a Snowy Evening	By : Duae Category: +G through L > Invader Zim > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2820 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Invader Zim, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Woods on a Snowy Evening
- 1
If an alien craft crashes in the forest, and no one's around to see it, does it still explode?
The answer was yes, at least if you were unlucky enough to be a junior Paranormal Investigator trying to stop an alien intent on taking over the world. Dib was flung from the craft and hit the snow with a muffled whump, curling up and attempting to protect his head as debris rained down around him. Crashing the ship certainly hadn’t been part of the plan. He'd snuck aboard intent to foil whatever plot Zim was up to; sending them both down in the middle of nowhere was never part of it.
The thought of the other had Dib struggling to lift himself up out of the snow, looking around frantically for any sign of him. As it was Dib's actions that caused them to crash and explode, Zim was bound to be furious.
There was no sign of an angry Irken ready to rip him apart with his pointy spiderlegs, just the smoking wreckage of the ship and scattered debris. Dib breathed a sigh of relief, shivering as he pulled himself the rest of the way up, leaning heavily against a nearby tree. Then the next thought inevitably followed, why wasn't Zim attacking him? Could he have been killed in the crash?
Dib tried to take a step forward and stumbled, his left ankle giving out. He hissed at the sudden pain, grabbing his ankle. After a moment he stood up more carefully; he didn't think it was broken, but it throbbed with each step he took. Better that than sitting still and letting the snow soak through his jeans. There was no telling how close he was to civilization, he could limp for miles and not encounter another human being. Dib pulled out his communicator and cussed silently to himself; the little device was destroyed. He wasn't sure if it had happened in the scuffle, or the crash, but there wouldn't be any calling for help.
He took another step towards one of the larger chunks of machinery in the snow then stopped dead, staring. Sticking out from under the twisted metal was a very familiar gloved hand.
Feeling numb, Dib knelt down, lightly touching the gloved fingers. Then, not entirely sure why, he grabbed the edge of the piece of machinery, heaving it up. It took several tries, but finally it was shoved off and to the side, leaving the small body exposed. Trembling fingers felt at Zim's neck, not even sure if there was normally a pulse there. When he felt the weak flutter against his fingertips he let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding.
Dib sat back in a crouch, jumbled thoughts running through his head. Leaving Zim to die was just too cold blooded. There was no way he could get even a rudimentary distress beacon rigged up before nightfall, and the heavy gray clouds threatened to dump even more snow any minute. If he took Zim with him he was under no illusion that the other would be the least bit grateful, and might even try to kill him. Unfortunately Zim was also probably his best shot at getting out of the forest alive.
Decision made, Dib gently gathered the unconscious body to his chest, brushing off as much of the snow as he could before it melted and burnt the Irken or soaked his shirt. He shivered as he stood, wrapping his trench coat as tightly around the two of them as he could before picking a likely direction and limping off through the snow.

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Dib was beyond cold and into numb by the time he spotted the cabin. Dozens of times he had tripped over hidden obstacles in the snow, falling hard and trying not to crush the smaller body in his arms. He couldn't feel his ankle throbbing anymore, but it just meant it was likely to give out from under him if he didn't pay attention.
The cabin was to all appearances abandoned - no car parked nearby, no fresh tire tracks. It was more than likely someone's summer vacation retreat, abandoned for the winter. All Dib cared about was that it had four walls to block the wind and a roof to keep the snow off.
Getting the lock open took far too long one handed and with numb fingers, but he managed, stumbling inside. He had never been so grateful to see the inside of a building, even if there wasn't that much to it. He moved numbly to the cot by the wall, forcing his arm to uncurl and lay Zim down on the bare mattress. The Irken still breathed, but was otherwise unconscious.
Dib let himself slump down to the floor beside the cot, chin falling to rest on his knees as he tried to thaw his brain into thinking again. He brought his fingers up to his mouth, blowing into his cupped hands and attempting to get feeling back into his chilled digits.
A groan from the cot had him scrambling to his feet, leaving heavily on the edge. Dib stared down at barely slitted red eyes, and it was hard to tell with the solid expanse of color, but Zim didn't seem to be focusing on him. Instead he seemed to be struggling to bring his hand to his head; his right arm was limp and unresponsive, but he managed to lift the left one partway up before it flopped onto his chest.
"Gir? Computer? ..... I'm cold." Zim shivered, trying to curl in on himself and stopping with a hiss of pain. Dib shook himself out of his mental haze, getting his priorities in order. If they were both going to make it back, he had to make sure Zim survived.
"They're not here, we're in the middle of nowhere. Remember the crash?" With some regret, Dib shrugged out of his trench coat. He wasn't in any danger of going into shock, Zim was another story. He draped the leather over the smaller form, figuring it would have to do until he could find some other source of heat.

"D-ib beast?" Zim sounded confused. "H-hurts."
"Let me see what we're working with, then tell me where it hurts." Rubbing his hands briskly over his arms, Dib started looking around. There wasn't much to see - the cot itself, a table, a fireplace with a few termite eaten logs nearby, a small kitchen type area, and a door. It was obviously the type of place for someone looking for one step up from tent camping, while still roughing it. Dib tugged on the doorknob, bracing for more disappointment. Instead he was greeted by a fully stocked closet. He reached out hesitantly, as if the contents might vanish. People in deserts saw mirages, what about people lost in the snow? The blanket felt real enough when he grabbed it, giving a couple of shakes to dislodge any insects or rodents that may have taken up residence. The blanket was wrapped around his shoulders as he continued looking through the closet, uncovering a first aid kit. He clutched the hard plastic container gratefully to his chest, along with a couple more blankets and a kerosene lamp. It was starting to get dark, and he needed light to work.
Thus armed, Dib returned to the somewhat conscious Irken. Zim hadn't made any effort to shake off the trench coat, if anything tugging it up further. Dib couldn't help a brief burst of some unidentifiable emotion; as unhelpful as it would be, he kept hoping for Zim to start raving about how he didn't need any stinking cowflesh over him or something along those lines, anything approaching normal behavior. Dib fiddled with the lamp a moment, stalling as he set it up so it would provide enough light to check out Zim's condition.
"Zim, I'll need you to tell me if something hurts." Dib stared down at the other's face, noting the antenna were intact, but held close to his head, and looked unnaturally bent in places. Dib started to reach to feel, but pulled his hand back. It probably wasn't a critical injury, but if the antenna were sensitive it could be very painful. He'd save that until he knew exactly what all he was dealing with. Dib piled the extra blankets over Zim's legs, then pulled his coat back. That earned him a hiss as Zim struggled to keep the coat tucked up, but it was a loosing battle with only one functional arm.
"Zim?" Dib folded the trenchcoat down, eyeing Zim's upper body, and then reaching into the kit for the scissors; there were damp patches from the melted snow, and he wasn't going to try and figure out how to get the shirt off around Zim's pak and possibly hurt him worse in the process.
"Zim.... won't tell anything, filthy." Zim tried to flinch away from the scissors as the fabric was snipped and pulled away from burned flesh. Dib paused, realizing that in his delirious state, Zim probably thought he had been captured.
"I'm trying to help you!" Dib spread some disinfecting ointment onto a pad of gauze and pressed it to one of the burned patches, hoping that it wouldn't do more harm than good. "I need you to tell me if I do something wrong." He continued removing the rest of the shirt, eyeing the dark green bruising around the right shoulder. Remembering how the other had avoided moving his right arm, he started feeling gently, ignoring what were probably curses as Zim struggled to get away.
"Don't need... help." The words were slurred, but still angry. Dib decided to hell with being talked through it, he was just going to do his best.
"I think your shoulder's dislocated, this is going to hurt." He braced one hand on the non-injured shoulder, and grabbed Zim's upper arm with another. With a sickening crack, the joint popped back into place. Zim arched on the cot, mouth opening wide, but all that came out was a high pitched whine. Unable to even scream at the pain, Zim flopped back, left hand clawing at his chest as he struggled for breath. Dib caught the other's gloved hand with his own, trying to keep him from injuring himself further.
"I think that's back in place, come on, just breathe." Dib tugged the glove off, checking for any waterburns under the fabric and then rubbing the clawed fingers gently between his hands, trying to get a little warmth and circulation back into them. With the way the other was breathing, it seemed likely that ribs had been bruised, or even broken, but Dib didn't think there was much to do about that besides wrap them. Zim finally relaxed back, breathing in short little pants. Dib laid his arm back down and then tugged up one of the blankets to cover Zim's chest and left arm, leaving the right for him to continue to examine. Zim was mumbling and the few words Dib could make out weren't terribly flattering, but he did his best to ignore them.
He slowly pulled off the other glove, holding the cold fingers in one hand as he gently probed the rest of the arm with his fingertips. A warning hiss had him concentrating on one spot.
"I think you've fractured a bone." Miraculously it didn't seem to be out of place, so Dib grabbed one of the rigid plastic split pieces and braced it against Zim's forearm and began winding the bandages. With that finished he began immobilizing the arm against Zim's body, mostly working under the blankets to keep any trapped heat from escaping.
Finishing the mummification, Dib shifted the blankets so he could finish stripping Zim, again feeling the odd mix of relief and regret that he wasn't being fought. Ointment covered gauze was lightly laid over each waterburn, then taped in place. Dib shifted his weight, wincing as he realized he hadn't done anything about his own ankle. It would have to wait, he still had to see about Zim's antenna. Digging through the first aid kit he finally picked out a few cotton swabs, stripping off most of the cotton fluff and leaving the lightweight sticks. Armed with the little sticks and a thin roll of self-sticking bandage in an obnoxious pink color, he approached Zim's head.
It was a well known fact throughout the Empire that should an Irken's soldier's antenna ever get damaged, as long as they were still functional they were left to heal on their own, as there are very few beings willing to attempt to treat them, even with the Irken heavily sedated. Dib, for all his acquired alien knowledge, had absolutely no clue.
"NO! Nonono!" Zim jerked away as Dib approached his antenna. Dib quickly realized the problem of needing both hands to apply the bandages, and another set of hands to hold Zim's head still. With a muffled curse he crawled up onto the head of the cot.
"I'm not trying to hurt you, shut up and hold still!" Dib pulled Zim's head partway into his lap, settling his other leg over Zim's neck so he could brace it against the alien's chin and try to keep him from thrashing around. Zim clawed helplessly at Dib's boot with his good hand. Dib did his best to ignore the struggles, curling his fingers around one antenna as gently as he could. Zim bit back a sob as each bent place was straightened, braced with the q-tip stick, and wrapped. His claws left deep grooves in the leather as he sobbed and tried to get away, not caring about the pain in the rest of his body.
Dib pressed down the last of the self-sticking bandage, lowering the injured antenna back against Zim's head. He pulled his leg back off the other's neck, but left his head in his lap, reaching down to grab Zim's hand again. The claws dug into his palm and he winced, but didn't let go.
"Hate you. Hate you hate you hate you." Zim got his breath back enough to form words. "Make you pay, yesss."
"I know." Dib let his head droop down with exhaustion, trying to think if there was anything else he absolutely had to do. He pried the claws out of his hand and moved the head out of his lap. "Please try not to strangle me in my sleep." Half-falling off the cot, Dib limped over to the closet to get the rest of the blankets and spread them all over the cot, including the one still knotted around his shoulders like a crude cape. Regretfully he turned the lamp off to save fuel, then groped his way over to the cot, sliding onto the narrow mattress beside Zim, where he was promptly given a hard shove.
"Get your own sleeping space, filthy earth-stink." Zim hissed, shoving again, but unable to get enough leverage to actually push Dib off the cot.
Dib stayed firm, shivering and slowly starting to warm up. "If I go, I'm taking the blankets with me." He kept a firm grip on them, his coat was still somewhere in the pile after all. He kept his eyes closed and just hoped he wasn't going to get killed while he slept.
There was annoyed grumbling from the Irken, but he slowly quieted down as he realized Dib had passed out not long after he stopped shoving and wouldn't be able to hear him. Zim closed his eyes, not sleeping as humans did, but letting his mind drift as his body worked on repairing itself. After a long time in the dark, he found himself scooting just a little closer to his nemesis. Filthy human or not, the other body was at least warm.
- 1
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Woods on a Snowy Evening