Author's note: This is my first D9 fic, so please, let me know how I'm doing. :) I didn't see any stories in which Wikus and little CJ (Oliver) interact, and this scene came to mind after recently watching the film. It's meant to feel like a 'deleted scene' of sorts. Enjoy! :D

Dirt fell in streams from the ceiling and pattered on to his shoulder as the MNU helicopters roared overhead. The flimsy walls of the shack shuddered and the thin windows rattled until the thumping of the blades faded away, finally leaving him in relative peace.

Wikus van de Merwe brushed the dirt from his clothes, though he knew it was a losing battle. He was filthy and it felt as though he always would be. He scratched at his head, trying to ignore the crunching sound his hair made. It was so brittle now, and if he wasn't careful he could pull out a fistful. Wikus no longer tried to convince himself it was all a dream; his body ached too badly for it not to be real.

And he'd lost another tooth- a bottom molar this time.

There was now a small collection in his pocket, and once again he wondered why he bothered. Perhaps there was a chance he could put himself back together if he kept all the parts. Wikus held himself and shivered, rocking back and forth on his haunches. Outside, the sunlight had dimmed and spindly shadows slanted through the windows. He managed a quaking sigh, trying to keep calm. The fingers of his good hand ran over the buttons of the cell phone in his pocket and he thought again of Tania.

He loved her so much, wanted to be with her more than he wanted anything else. He'd been beaten, threatened and nearly killed, but none of that mattered.

He loved Tania too much for any of it to matter.

Wikus muttered to himself, wiping the sticky grime from his cheek before pulling the phone from his pocket. The dull blue glow illuminated his pale face in the semi-darkness and he cursed at the digital display reading, 'searching for service.' In another part of the shack, the creatures made their unusual noises and Wikus flinched at the sound. They had left him alone for the moment and he was thankful for it.

He turned back to the phone and waved it over his head, hoping the little satellite icon would vanish from the screen. It took a few minutes, but all his whispered pleas paid off; the digital clock appeared and quickly he dialed the number for home. His heart pounded in anticipation, waiting to hear his wife's voice again.

The machine picked up instead. Wikus winced at their happy message and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. Instead of hearing the familiar beep, there was a sharp click and to his dismay, the phone had gone out of service once again. Wikus could only stare at it, feeling the rage beginning to creep into awareness.

He was starving, covered in filth and blood, unbelieving of his predicament and vengeful of the coincidence that had gotten him there. He wanted nothing more than to go back home and be in his bed, be with his wife and eat the food they cooked together every night when he finished his shift at the office. All the things he'd taken for granted were so precious to him then, so close and yet so incredibly far away.

Wikus screamed in utter distress, and threw the cell phone across the room into the surrounding mess.

He sat in the growing darkness and fumed, breathing heavily, one hand grasping his head. He breathed until his chest heaved and his mouth went dry, jumping as the MNU choppers circled again. Wikus lifted his gaze to the clouded window and watched the floodlights snap on at the entrance to District 9. Even farther still, the city lights of Johannesburg gleamed almost invitingly.

It was only then did he realize he'd thrown away his only connection to the outside world- his only chance to be with Tania. Wikus scrambled to his feet, ignoring the burning of his muscles and the throbbing in his head. He pawed desperately through the garbage, but to no avail. The phone was lost to the shack- to the Prawns.

Wikus cursed and gnashed his teeth, sinking back to the floor. He had no strength for tears or violence- he could only sit there.

A strange sound made him look up and he could see the younger Prawn—Christopher's son—had entered the room and was staring at him with those orb-like eyes. Wikus managed a scowl.

"What do you want?"

The little creature scuttled toward him, almost cautious. Wikus leaned away as it hopped up on to a rickety table and continued staring.

"What?"

The youngling tilted its head, blinking. It clicked and sputtered in the way all Prawns did, though the language was broken, much as a human child's would be.

"You lose something?"

Wikus's scowl deepened. "Yes, I did. What do you fokking care?"

The little Prawn held up its hand. Wikus's eyes widened; clenched in its claw was the cell phone.

"What is it? How does it work?"

Wikus straightened up, his shoes scratching through the dust on the floor. "It's a phone. That's how humans talk when we're away from each other."

The miniature creature looked curiously at the device, a frown barely recognizable across its features. It tapped the keyboard hesitantly and was surprised to see it light up. Wikus laughed lightly at the sight and held out his hand.

"Yes, it's very nice, isn't it? Give it here, now. Good boy…"

He was frustrated to see the young one had now become moderately attached to the phone, but managed to remain calm. Interacting with Prawns was his job after all, and he wasn't about to forget all his training. With the little ones, you had to patient and kind, just like with human children. Wikus stood on his knees and gestured with his hand again.

"I need it, boy. Give it back."

"Why?"

Wikus bit back a curse. "Because I have to speak with someone."

The Prawnling simply blinked at him, antennae twitching confusedly. Wikus scooted closer on his knees, crunching wood and plastic beneath him. He strained to reach the cell phone, fingers shaking from the effort; all the while the creature watched him. It clicked at him, nodding its little head.

"Friend," he said.

Wikus stared as Christopher's son placed the phone in his palm, tapping the buttons to make the light come on yet again.

"I give it back. You're a friend."

Wikus wrapped his fingers tight around the phone and held it close, staring back confusedly at the Prawn. He watched it jump down from the table and look back at him. It held up his arm to him as before.

"We are the same."

Wikus blinked as it scurried back through the shack without another sound, pushing open a makeshift door as it went. He sniffed, coughing the dust from his lungs and carefully tucked the cell phone away. After stumbling to his feet, he reached for the door and pulled it open, teetering on his heels. At the end of the hall, Christopher sat hunched over a table, helping his son up on to a seat. Wikus leaned against the wall and winced at the pain in his arm, watching them.

"I want to go home!" the little one said.

Wikus saw Christopher shake his head and frowned.

"We can't go home. Not anymore."

Wikus took a moment, looking behind him out the window at the faint glittering lights of Johannesburg.

I can't go home, either.

There was horrible sense of finality to that thought, one that filled him with a deep loneliness he'd never felt before. He thought once more of Tania and sighed.

Wikus turned back to the small family and straightened up. It was the only time he thought-however briefly- that maybe all of this had happened to him for a reason. To his surprise, Wikus was struck by a sudden clarity that took away the crushing isolation.

He would take them to MNU and get the fuel. He would risk getting killed.

Because they really were the same- three strangers in a strange land, who wanted nothing more than to go home. Wikus stepped forward into the tiny living room, and the Prawns turned to face him. Someday, when he had the chance, he would explain it all to Tania, every single detail; Wikus owed her that much.

She would be happy to know that he didn't go through it alone.