AN Just a little short thing, something i would gave liked to see in the film. In the end clip, look at Wikus' eyes. Perhaps it's just the shadows, but one eye looks darker than te ither to me, which is what aoraker this idea. Anyway, enough of my rambling, do enjoy this little oneshot.
Disclaimer: District 9 does not belong to me and never will do. /AN
For the first time in a long while, the relentless ever present pain stared to subside. Wikus knew that he had finished his long transformation, the transformation that he worked so hard to prevent ever completing. Yet three years he must wait in this form, until his salvation shall come and return him to his original shape. He could feel every new sensation this alien body provided him, every twitch of the antennae and click of the pincers. He could even feel the odd tentacle-like appendages dangling from what he used to call his mouth.
Yet he had never properly looked at himself, not his face anyway. His arms and the rest of his body were practically unavoidable to look at. At times he caught himself staring wistfully at one of his claw hands, wishing it to be all a horrid, horrid nightmare and any minute now he would wake up, at home, in bed, next to his angel and he would be human again, and everything would be as it was supposed to be. Of course that was never going to happen. In a way, he didn't want to look at his face because it would be a confirmation, right there, that there was nothing human left in him at all. That the human wikus was dead. He knew that was not true, as he still felt like himself, nothing about his personality had changed, save for the occasional cravings for cat food. He knew he wasn't gone, but he feared seeing his reflection in a mirror, and not recognising himself. Not that it was difficult to avoid reflections, mirrors were hardly easy to come by in the slowly crumbling wasteland of district 9. At least, what remained of district 9.
Despite his fears, Wikus also knew that at some point he would have to face facts. He wS going to be stuck like this for three years, isn't it best to get it over with and try to become accustomed to this shape? Then at least something might come of tis experience. If he spent three years shying away and wallowing in his shame, then he was nothing but the coward people used to tease him to be.
He found it inside an aluminium can. It wasn't the best mirror, but it would have to do. After a bit of cleaning, Wikus finally got a good look at his face for the first time. It was almost exactly as he had feared. He looked exactly like them. He stared at himself for a moment, turning it head is way and that to make sure that, for the thousandth time, tis prawn really was him. He sighed, and was about to toss the can away when he noticed something about his eyes. Only one of them was the amber tone that most aliens possessed. The other eye was slightly darker, and more of a dulled greenish blue. Upon closer inspection, he realised that he had retained his original eye colour in that right eye. Though it didn't seem like much to anyone else, Wikus was overjoyed in a way, that some part of him, some part of his humanity survived. He had proof of who he was, not a prawn, but Wikus van de mere. And with that he smiled, and muttered his first words in the alien tongue.
'Thank you.'