Heyo, fellow District 9 fans.

Herr Wozzeck speaking.

I dunno about you guys, but, well, this idea came to me barely a few days after I had seen the movie. I actually listened to Pavanne for a Dead Princess by Ravel as I was writing this, hence the title. So, let's take it places, and I hope you guys enjoy!

Pavanne to a Missing Husband

I looked on the porch again.

There is a rose made of scrap metal there. It looks more plain than anything I've ever seen, and yet it's been so welcome to see one such rose. Wikus really does care for me, even if I can't see him.

Why can't I see my dear Wikus anymore? Father says that he's stuck very far in District 10, but why? And why are these artificial roses the only thing I have left to think about him with? It's not fair.

It never was fair to begin with. Ever since he left all those months ago, questions have been swirling around my head. Why was he carted away from the hospital in a body bag? Why did my father try to lie to me about his death? Why was the last footage of him taken in District 9, of all places? Why?

None of these questions have ever been answered.

But there's one question that I know will always have an answer; does he care for me?

If these roses are any indication, then I'd have to say the answer to that question is, yes, he does. These roses...

He used to make similar things all the time when we were still together. He loved me so much that he did it, even if he was barely ever good at it.

I look at the rose on the porch, picking it up gingerly as I look at how the metal petals seemed to glint in the sun. Some of the metal's rusted in a few places. But honestly? I couldn't care less if this rose had a few blemishes on it. It still means the world to me; he is still out there, and he still cares for me greatly.

My last question is, what is keeping us apart?

I shake my head, a tear coming to my eye as I enter my home, holding the rose tenderly. I fear it would completely break apart in my grip; it's beautifully made, but it's so fragile...

One of these days... I need to find a way to show how I feel. I would make something, but what could I make that would show him I still love him without looking terrible?

Oh, what does it matter what it looks like? He wasn't at all angry when I accidentally crushed the papier-mâché plate he made me once; I don't think he'll care if whatever I make is something awful.

Looking down at the rose, I make a mental note to stop by the art supplies shop sometime within the week. I think Wikus would appreciate it if I sent him some kind of gesture that I, too, still love him, and that I'm still holding on...

And I need to show him, too, that I'll always hold on, no matter what happens to either of us. Maybe he will return one day. Maybe he won't. I know I can't lose any hope that someday we'll be together again.

The rose on the table clearly shows he hasn't given up hope yet. If he still has hope, then I'll still have hope.

And I won't let go, no matter what happens.