I do not own District 9, Wikus, or any other characters from the movie.
Author's notes: My first attempt at a District 9 fanfiction. Meant as a one-shot, although a continuation is possible. Enjoy.
"Fuck!" Wikus yelled after stubbing his toe on a chunk of garbage on the floor of his shack. He'd misjudged how large his feet now were. He clumsily grabbed his throbbing toe, lost his balance, and fell. His face hit the dry, cracked ground. "Fuck, fuck this." Wikus moaned gently, his face parallel with the ground as he cried gently. Crying in his new form made a sort of sober whining sound. Hearing it only reminded Wikus more of how he was no longer human, and he wept all the more for it. It had been three weeks since Christopher had left. Wikus spent most of that time either scavenging for food, crying, or on the ground in agony. The metamorphosis into an alien was excruciatingly painful, and only made worse by the thought that he was becoming a…. becoming a fucking prawn, he thought.
Wikus's soft cries were interrupted as his ears picked up the sound of his door opening. He slowly turned his head and saw the shape of a prawnling leaning against the doorframe. The prawnling stood staring at him, it's big amber eyes curious. "Go away", Wikus complained, "leave me fucking be. I don't need your fucking sympathy."
The little prawnling scampered inside, keeping a few feet away from Wikus. His head bobbed in amusement as it clicked, "You talk funny!" and gave a little laugh. Wikus was silent. Fucking great, I can't even fucking do anything right, can I? Nearly got Christopher killed, couldn't fucking see what MNU was doing behind my back, can't provide for my wife now… now that I'm a… His thoughts turned unintelligible as he descended into rattling sobs.
"Why are you crying?" clicked the little prawnling, his alien expression changed to one of innocent concern. Wikus dully noted that he could now see emotion in pawn's faces, a side effect of… being one, he thought miserably.
"C'mon, cheer up!" the prawnling bounced onto Wikus's back and grabbed his shoulders, trying to pull him upright. The prawnling might as well have been trying to lift a mountain; Wikus was at least three times his size.
Wikus sighed, "Why do you even care, prawnling? What am I to you? I'm not like you anyway."
The little alien looked at him, puzzled. "You sure look like me!" he trilled. And Wikus suddenly noticed the prawnling was right; they both had the same coloring: tannish green with specks of black.
"And my dad always said we should be happy, even if we're stuck in a bad place", he continued sagely, "So I'm gonna show you something to cheer you up!" The prawnling again tried to lift Wikus off the ground by his shoulders, and this time, Wikus heaved himself up onto his knees. He couldn't help it—the sanguine disposition of this little creature amused him. The prawnling, encouraged by the movement, snatched his hand and pulled him out the door into the blazing hot afternoon sun. Wikus shielded his eyes; he tried to spend as much time alone in his shack as he could… there was nothing for him outside except reminders of what he'd become. He couldn't bear the thought of getting used to the violence, filth, and squalor that were rampant in his new home.
The little alien guided him through side-paths and under fences, over hills and across ditches, until they reached the summit of a hill at the northwestern tip of District 9. The little alien pointed at a single red rose poking out of a tiny hill of soil, excitement brimming in his smile. The early evening sun flowed over the rose, glazing it in an amber shine.
Wikus marveled at it. Memories flowed back in hordes, inundating his mind—The roses he'd given to Tania, the bouquets on their wedding day—she looked like an angel, he thought to himself—and their garden at home. He leaned in and cautiously caressed the rose as if afraid he might break it. It was softer than anything he'd felt since he'd fled humanity. It reminded him of Tania's skin… He thought of picking it and delivering it to Tania, but he discarded the idea, robbing the hill of its crown seemed wrong. Struck by another thought, he ran to a garbage heap and started scavenging.
He's nuts, thought the prawnling, watching Wikus with a critical eye. Oh well! The prawling hopped away, eager to see his father get home from work.
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Twilight approached as Wikus snuck one last look at his old house before bounding away. He'd left her something, and he hoped she'd understand what it meant.
Don't give up on me, baby.