A/N: My god! A new chapter! SRSLY.

I forgot to mention the format of the story! I now hate myself.

I'm going to be popping back and forth. Yep. First forward, then the last four years.

Title: Ragged Breathing

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He struggles against the straps, pinning him to a cold metal table. A reptilian tongue sticks out, almost comically, as he screams words at the white-coated humans milling about him.

This cannot be real. He cannot lose. He was Zim. And he certainly wouldn't get captured. Not a mighty Invader.

Gloved hands reach for him, and his screams raise in volume again. They pull at him, jerking him forward and running their hands over his PAK.

10:00

Impossible, the alien tells himself. They couldn't have gotten his PAK off. The weight gone from his back is a clear insult to this logic, a taunt to the invader.

Zim throws himself against the straps, air releasing from his lungs as the fabric restrains him, pulling into his very being.

9:13

The cries become frantic, losing word formations and becoming only shrill screams.

8:54

Useless, his hands flail for the straps restraining them. He feels them cutting into his very flesh, ripping open the skin of his wrists.

8:27

His head begins to pound, blood struggling to pump through his veins. A sharp pain hammers against his temple, beating to the same timing as his heart.

7:44

He begins to lose feelings in the toes and claws, feeling a tiny, stabbing sensation in each, before nothingness. Desperate to escape, he flails, while the scientists look on with mild expressions, uncaring and cold. THe machines still keep the same, steady beeping.

7:20

His breath comes out in harsh, rasping pants. They burn against the very skin of his throat, rubbing it raw with his exhaustion. Any flesh exposed to the brutal straps is just as raw, aching and rubbing against the skin.

6:00

Lungs are overworked, screaming with overwhelming pain. His wails have been slowly reduced to quiet pleas, as his hands spasm into fists and out. Green eyelids close to block out the tears forming in Irken eyes. Invaders don't cry.

5:02

The tears can't be stopped, rolling down green cheeks as he cried out for mercy, for someone to help. He calls out for his SIR unit, already disabled and unable to aid him.

4:26

Zim's body spasms violently, and he gasps for air, only able to cough. After a while, blood is choked out with every wheezing breath, pooling in his mouth and sending a bitter taste throughout his mouth.

3:57

The scientists are no longer evident to him, the beeps of machines fading away from consciousness. He's aware of a drifting sensation, where Tak laughs at him, mocking him, alongside the Dib-human, whose face twists into an ugly mask. GIR whimpers out for Zim's assistance, one metal hand reaching out as the little robot begs to go home. The Tallest say the most hurtful things. Their hate for him. How worthless he is.

3:12

His screams become unintelligible whimpers, Irken and English flowing into each other.

2:46

Looking up, he sees Dib's face pressing into a window, where nothing is for anyone else. Despite the pain in his throat, he yells insults, which degenerate into pleas. Offers. Bribes. Anything. Amber eyes only stare at him.

1:12

"Am I going to die, Dib?" There's still no answer.

0:43

"Oh. Irk," He moans, eyes only tiny crimson slits, reflecting bright laboratory lights.

0:12

It's over, even he recognizes that...

As the PAK slips back onto him, reattaching through the holes by his ribs, he whimpers Dib's name one last time before sinking into merciful unconsciousness.