Warning: Long chapter.

~*~

Chapter Three:

An Act of Trust

~*~

Two Prawns crawled through the rubbish left over from the set up of the medical encampment. Surprisingly, the MNU officers didn't seem bothered by their presence, letting them rummage through the garbage. One scooped up some items in its cloth-wrapped arms, cupping them carefully, and wandered off whilst the other kept searching, tossing aside useless items.

When it found a can that used to hold the food that one of the doctors had consumed for lunch, it buried its mouth against the open top and licked up whatever remained inside. Then the can, too, went into the bag.

Another Prawn came up behind it, holding up a metal pole. The two of them got into a discussion about how it could be used, the first Prawn taking it from the second and tapping it on its carapace-covered arm, then peering down its hollow length.

Nodding, the first Prawn returned it to the second and it scampered off happily.

Chelsea stood in silence, watching the activity go on with a dark scowl on her face. It was eerie how similar starving Prawns looked to starving children. Curious, but happily distracted. She had seen the scamper through garbage, finding things they could eat, stuffing anything in their mouths. They had played with what they could, but the important thing had always been food.

She remembered the hovels made out of garbage bags and paper in Somalia, the brief month she had been there. She remembered the hovels of sticks and cloth of the nomads wandering across the African desert when some of them had passed by an encampment she had been in.

The Prawns were not dissimilar to disadvantaged humans. Exploited and belittled. Ignored.

MNU represented the corporate greed, avarice and gluttony of the world. Money was what was important. Power. Not the people. Not the non-humans and not the humans. They were alike in their insignificance.

Chelsea crossed her arms over her chest and sunk into darker contemplations.

Nearby, Callum and Graham stood with a female surgeon named Natalie Kingswood. Her eyes were narrowed from the glare of the sun as she fanned herself with her hat. Callum grabbed it and plopped it on her head. Since they were both pale, he knew how well she would burn. He himself had a hat on and a nice glaze of sun block on his skin.

Natalie was a tiny woman who barely topped five feet in height. The Prawns looked like they could step on her, she was so small. Her hair was black and cut short around her face, with the left side slightly longer than the right at the front. She was beautiful and looked seventeen, which seemed to irk her furiously since she was, as she claimed, twenty six.

"It's been three days," she said quietly, adjusting the hat. "Three days and not a single patient."

"And with almost two million of them out there, there's bound to be someone that needs medical assistance," agreed Callum. "But none of them will come forward."

"Can you blame them though?" whispered Natalie, her face dark as she watched the Prawns milling about.

Along with the doctors, the MNU were distributing regular rations to District 10's non-human residents. It was divided into lots of twelve, with rations taken to two lots per day. This meant that the Prawns got a re-stock of food and water every six days.

If they ran out early, too bad.

From what they could see of what was being handed out, six days of rations consisted of ten cans of cat food, a few cow and sheep carcasses and whatever containers the Prawns could carry to and from the huge water trucks. They were only allowed to visit once, their names marked off on a roll to ensure there was no 'unauthorized rationing'.

Surprisingly, Chelsea hadn't hurled abuse when they found this out. She had just turned and walked away from the scene in silence, hatred on her face. She seemed to have a hard time accepting that the Prawns actually liked cat food and that it wasn't some cruel MNU ploy to humiliate them further.

Even when she saw two adolescent Prawns get into a violet fight over a single can, the victor almost inhaling the can and the food within, she only seemed more disgusted.

The doctors, on the other hand, had been promised that anything they requested would be brought to them every three days. Their rations consisted mostly of instant meals and microwavable food, canned goods and anything that could be frozen. But they had fresh meat and sauces and things that the Prawns would never dream of. They also had televisions, movies, stoves and all sorts of items of comfort. Hell, they even had showers.

They also had stocks of cat food for 'treats' for the Prawns that came for treatment.

Not that anyone believed that would happen any time soon. Each of the MNU's deliveries were accompanied by a heavily armed guard to make sure no Prawns got rations they weren't due for. Coupled with the MNU guard that was dragging its heels in leaving, there was a veritable wall of rifles, shotguns and armoured trucks between the doctors and their patients.

Any attempt for a curious Prawn to get close had been met with violence from the MNU, to the point that the Prawns just didn't try anymore.

Meghan had tried to reason with the MNU, to create an opening for them to get through. The officers had simply replied that it was all 'for their protection'.

Assholes. And a few other choice words Chelsea had called them.

"They're so afraid of us." Natalie shook her head, scowling. "I can only imagine what the MNU did to them to make them so afraid."

"The MNU needs to leave," snapped Graham. "As long as they're here, we can't do out work."

"What is our work?" asked Callum. "We don't know anything about Prawn physiology. We don't know anything to treat them."

Walking past, Chelsea caught the last of Callum's words, and her quiet words rang out as she headed to her tent, "Yes, but with the MNU here, we won't even have the chance to learn."

.

~*~

.

"Chelsea…"

Instantly Chelsea was awake, sitting upright in her bed as her head lolled groggily. Too many incidents of being woken up as a patient crashed, or as a gunfight erupted, meant that she was rapidly clawing her way out of sleep, reaching blindly for her boots. "What… what what is it?""

Natalie Kingswood was crouched at the end of her bed, a torch in her hands, throwing her face into eerie relief.

"There's an alien in the mess tent."

For a moment, Chelsea was totally struck by the sheer absurdity of the situation. It was like a ten year old was telling her parent that there was a monster in her closet. That was Chelsea's first thought. The next was to wonder why in the fuck Natalie was telling her. The woman was closer to Callum and Graham than Chelsea, and they were men, so it would make sense for her to tell one of them. It would also make more sense for her to tell one of the MNU guards.

"Why are you telling me?"

Natalie stood up as Chelsea made sure there were no scorpions in her boots before she pulled them on. She averted her eyes when she saw Chelsea wasn't wearing very much, either, but the dark prevented her from seeing the true extent of her scarring. Chelsea knew because she was looking away, not blatantly staring.

"I… If I told a guard, they'd kill it. And I'd feel weird running to one of the guys."

Oh, she'd feel weird.

Rolling her eyes faintly, Chelsea pulled on a shirt and buttoned it up, "So why are you telling me…?"

"Cause… cause I was thinking maybe if we talked to it, it might help us convince the others to trust us. And… well. You like the Prawns most out of everyone."

Oh, the girl had a noggin on her. Chelsea liked her already. Except she kept saying 'Prawns'. Then again, they didn't have anything else to call them.

"Alright. Let's go."

Taking the torch, Chelsea lead the way from her tent to the mess hall. Two patrolling MNU guards moved to ask what they were doing, but Chelsea snapped as she walked past, "We're having lesbian sex and we forgot the honey."

Even in the dark, she could tell Natalie's face was bright red as the guards just turned and walked away robotically.

"Why did you tell them that?"

"Cause they won't ask any questions."

"But did you have to tell them that?"

"If all else fails, play a lesbian."

"O…okay…?"

As they got closer to the mess tent, it was deathly quiet, and both of them stopped near one wall to listen.

"Are you sure?" mouthed Chelsea.

Natalie nodded and mouthed back, "I saw it go in. Maybe it left?"

Chelsea twitched when she heard a can hit the dirt, roll, and then be picked up.

"Nope."

She and the other woman made their way carefully to the front entrance, the torch off long before they got there. At the last moment, Natalie grabbed Chelsea's shirt, scaring thirty years from her life.

"It wasn't very big."

Oh well that was good to know now

Taking a deep breath, Chelsea turned around the edge of the tent, squinting to see in the gloomy illumination of the half moon above. It was perched awkwardly on the edge of a crate rummaging through the contents. It was filling its arms with every can it could possibly carry, boxes of instant food and plastic packets discarded uselessly in its rummaging. It had its back to them slightly, its mouthparts moving rapidly as it muttered to itself unintelligibly.

Chelsea clicked on the torch, shining it directly on the Prawn, "Hey."

The Prawn whirled, dropping the cans in its arms as it threw up its hands to defend itself. It went to step back, its foot coming down on the air, and it crumpled out of sight with a strange squawk. Popping back into view, it stared at them, terrified and visibly shaking. Its hands few into the air again, shaking hard, as it looked left and right, trying to find a way to escape. However, the only way out was past Chelsea and Natalie.

"He's terrified," breathed the smaller woman. She stepped forward, holding up her hands as well. "Don't be scared. Please. We're not going to hurt you."

It cowered in the corner, not looking at her, shielding itself as if it expected to be shot or beaten. Natalie made a sound of utter horror at its fear, stopping and not attempting to approach it. Chelsea walked over to a can and picked it up. Food. It was after the food.

"Don't think you'll like beans…" She put it on the table beside her, then looked back over to see Natalie was crouched before it, trying to coax it out of the corner it had crammed itself into, wedged between two stacks of boxes.

"Wait here." She handed the torch to Natalie and turned, jogging out of the tent. By the time she got back, the Prawn was still in its corner, but it wasn't trembling as hard. Every time Natalie tried to touch it, though, it only pressed itself tighter into its little hole.

Chelsea got out a plate and opened the can in her hand, tipping the cat food onto the ceramic dish. The sound made the Prawn look up and Chelsea realized that it was starving. She knew the look when hunger to the point that it circumvented all other instincts. Even self preservation.

Crouching beside Natalie, she held out the plate to the Prawn, "Here."

It watched them both, eyes wide, looking back and forth. Cautiously, a hand reached out, fingers shaking hard. Then it grabbed a fistful of cat food and shoved it into its mouth, chewing hungrily. When neither of them moved, it reached out and grabbed the place, pressing its face into the dish and devouring every scrap of food.

"You've got an appetite on you," commented Natalie. "You must be starving…"

It put the plate down and pushed it back cautiously, jerking away when Chelsea reached for it. Her face twisted in pain at its terror, and she put the plate back on the bench.

"You were stealing the food?"

It looked away, nodding, mouthparts moving constantly. It wrung its hands, fingers sliding over one another.

"Was it for you?"

It shook its head, chattering in its first recognizable words.

"Others, too." It looked at them, and then away, mouthparts drawing up. Chelsea struggled to understand what it was saying, but she got the general gist of it. Natalie, it seemed, had perfect comprehension. "Hungry... There isn't as much food here…"

Chelsea shook her head in disgust, pushing herself to her feet. She was getting better at recalling their language, and what she heard made her wish she couldn't understand them at all. Since Natalie seemed to understand him, it made sense for her to stay and for Chelsea to go. "Natalie, keep him here." Immediately the Prawn jerked around, eyes widening with terror. "Easy, easy. I'm going to get you some food. I promise."

It didn't seem to believe her, but it appeared it resigned itself to the fact that it had no choice, leaning back down, still shaking. Natalie knelt down beside it, scowling and as Chelsea left, she started trying to comfort the Prawn.

When Chelsea came back, she was holding two plastic bags doubled up on one another, filled to the brim. Natalie turned to look at her, her face drawn with whatever she had heard, and the Prawn looked about to faint with relief when it saw no MNU officers behind Chelsea.

"He says there are a lot of sick… 'Outlanders'," she whispered. "A lot. But they're deep in District 10 and they won't come out." She looked ill. "After what he's told me, I don't blame him."

Chelsea had only been gone five minutes…

"Scared." The Prawn tilted his head as he watched Chelsea crouch down again. It said something that Chelsea didn't quite understand, and it seemed to realize this, trying again. "MNU will take them away. Experiments. Quarantine."

"Can't you understand him?" asked Natalie. The way she said it clearly said, 'Why are you here, then?'

"I am fluent in understanding their language," retorted Chelsea a little more sharply than she intended. "I just haven't heard it in three years. I got rusty. It's coming back to me, though." It was. Slowly. "The MNU isn't going to hurt any of you anymore," she turned her attention to the Prawn. "We're going to protect you."

"We've heard that before." The rancor in his clicks and purrs was easily discernable and it was painful to hear.

Chelsea made a face and offered him the bag, setting it down on the ground for him to grab. Cautiously it hooked its fingers in the handles, dragging it closer and opening it to peer into its depths. Natalie shone the torch so it could see the contents. When the Friskies labels and bottles of water were illuminated, it gave a chattering cry of wordless joy, looking back at them like it had experienced its first Christmas.

Maybe it had.

"Not all humans are bad," said Chelsea. "Come on. We'll get you out of here without being seen."

.

~*~

.

The sun was pinkening the sky when he ran into the depths of District 10 once more, not looking back, his feet propelling him over the ground so fast that it was like he was flying. The bag of cat food and water was held tightly to his chest. The two human 'females' had shown him a back way out of their encampment, with one of them distracting some guards long enough for him to dart through the open area between the trucks and the first line of tents.

They hadn't turned him over to the MNU humans.

They had given him food.

The small one said they were doctors, healers, they made people better. They wanted to make his people better.

Could they be believed?

His arms tightened around the food as he prayed, desperately, that this was authentic, that humans were reaching through the fence that MNU had erected, to join hands with the Outlanders.

Better late than never.

.

~*~

.

They had given him the name Michael. A name he couldn't pronounce. A name that he didn't care for.

They couldn't pronounce the name his parent had given him, so why would he bother about their substitute name? It didn't define him. It meant nothing to him. It was something they could pronounce and could tag on him like the label sprayed on the carapace on his head.

A carapace that was still healing from the damage it had taken a few days before, a vicious beating for no reason.

Not that MNU had ever needed a reason to brutalize and kill an Outlander.

His clawed hind feet carried him through the encampment, towards the cramped white tent that he now called home. Or at least, until the MNU came and uprooted them, tossing them into the next pathetic excuse for a hovel. Amazing that their numbers got larger, yet their homes got smaller. Their land. Their resources.

At least in District 9 they had had a constant supply of food and money, even if it was meagre. Even if they could barely scrape by. The gangs had exploited them, but they'd been a sight more reliable than MNU had.

In District 10, they had to rely on the shipments by the MNU. If they decided to simply starve their kind to death, there was nothing they could do about them. The fences were high and topped with razor wire. They had missile batteries and fucking encampments outside the gates. The occasional Outlander might escape, but it was a long walk to the nearest city, Johannesburg, and often the Outlander that left never came back.

Michael rubbed his claws along his face, exhausted. He had spent the night helping out with other Outlanders, the sick and injured that remained after their relocation. Michael was not a healer, but he was physically strong enough to be seen as a dominant member of their castes, and therefore he was respected and obeyed automatically. It helped with some of the Outlanders that had lost their minds to the fear, or the hunger, or the rage.

Movement in his tent ripped Michael out of his musings, his head flying up when he heard something rustling around within. His antennae twitched as he tasted the pheromones left on the entrance, before swearing quietly. Tossing the flap open, he stepped inside with a snarl of rage.

"What are you doing here?"

The younger member of his race turned sharply, blinking wide eyes. His 'human' name was Jeremy, and he actually liked it, which rankled on Michael. Not that he could blame him. The younger ones, the second generations born on this dirt bowl of a planet, didn't know any better. Didn't know anything else.

For a moment he was frozen in spot, before looking at the can in his hand. Lifting it, he presented it to the larger, older Outlander, flashing him a nervous smile.

"I was bringing you some food. I know you're almost out, so I brought you some mo-"

Michael strode forward and snatched the can from his hand, tossing it around until he could see the feline label on the front. Friskies. Cat food. Already his mouth was salivating with pre-digestive fluids, the flesh pulling away from the carapace plates in his mouth which would crush the metal and slice it open easily, letting him taste the addicting meat within. Shaking his head to bring himself to the here and now, he curled his claws around the can, feeling it give slightly under the pressure.

"Where did you get this? We don't get rations for three more days. Did you steal this from someone?!" To steal from a fellow Outlander was a taboo amongst their kind. Humans stole from them enough without them stealing from one another. What you found in the rubbish heaps was free game, but once it was in one's possession, in their home, it was off limits unless offered.

The smaller Outlander shook his head, his antennae whipping left to right.

"No! Never. And they're not… not unauthorized rationing, either. They were given to me." He lifted the bag in his other hand, bulging with cans.

"By who?" Who could spare that much food? No one in their area got food for three more days, and with things so scarce, few were willing to offer up stocks. "Where did you get it?" Michael's voice was louder, sharper, causing Jeremy to cringe.

"One… of the humans from the camp…"

Pheramones of rage exploded from Michael, causing Jeremy to totter backwards and fall on his behind. "You went to the human camp?! ALONE?!"

"N-no! I mean… Yes. But… I snuck in! I got all the way to their food! No one saw me!"

Michael shook the can like it was evidence of his lies, "Obviously someone saw you!"

"No! No they didn't. I mean. They came to the tent when I was rifling around."

Michael stopped, eyes narrowing, "They?"

"Yeah. Nice humans. Female ones. They didn't bring any MNU people, either. I thought they'd scream. The females always do… but they didn't. I don't think they understood me very well, but they knew what I meant. And one of them got me food. And they snuck me back out of the camp and everything." He held up the bag, eyes wide. "They… gave me this food. They said they were here to help…"

"These females. Was one of them scarred?"

"Y-yes. Scarred. And with… odd eyes."

Michael jerked back slightly as her face swam into his mind, the gills at his throat working as the pheromones faded from the air, his mood stabilizing. "I'm not MNU." He remembered her, shielding him from the officers with her own body. Defending him even as he grabbed her like that.

He went to touch the cracked carapace on his head, but stopped when he nearly beaned himself with the can of cat food. Scowling, he put it down, looking at Jeremy.

"Don't go back there."

Jeremy made a wordless sound of frustration, hopping back to his feet. "Why not? They're not the same as the MNU. She was nice. I really believe they're here to help us."

Michael rose up to his full height, advancing on Jeremy, who backed up sharply, "They came with the MNU. They can't be trusted. No one that that is in any way associated with the MNU can be trusted!" Michael clenched his fists, rage curling in his stomach as he thought of the atrocities that humans had subjected his kind to. "Humans cannot be trusted."

"The only humans we've known were MNU ones," reminded Jeremy. "These ones are different. Maybe… maybe we should give them a chance?"

"We have given them twenty eight seasonal cycles on this worthless dustbowl of chances!" raged Michael, sending Jeremy skittering towards the door. "They deserve no more!"

But Jeremy was gone, leaving Michael alone with his rage. His gills pumped rage pheromones into the air as he looked down at the can on the table beside him, chest heaving. Then he picked it up, turning to hurl it at some equipment he had managed to take with him from District 9.

His arm, however, halted, and he lowered the can to stare at the cat on the front.

.

~*~

.

"Do not move, Prawn!"

"Stay the fuck back!"

"What's going on?" Meghan stepped out from between two trucks, to see that five MNU officers were staring at a large Prawn, aiming their various weapons at him. He had his hands at his sides, lax and unthreatening. Dried blood was on his carapace, is upper arms and thighs wrapped in black cloth and secured with duct tape.

He was the large Prawn that had been attacked for being near Chelsea the night she had arrived, Meghan knew instantly.

"What do you want?" she asked him quietly, stepping closer despite the protests of the MNU officers.

His antennae waved as his mouthparts moved, before he finally spoke, "I want to speak to the doctor with odd eyes."

"Odd eyes? You mean Chelsea?"

He shook his head and shrugged, "I do not know her name."

"She's scarred?"

He seemed to be trying to remember this, then shook his head again, "I don't know. I couldn't see. She has eyes of a different colour. I have never seen that before."

"Chelsea." She turned to ask the MNU officer to get her, and then stopped, looking at the Prawn. Finally, she said, "Follow me."

It tilted its head, looking at the MNU officers, who were staring aghast, then back at her.

"They won't hurt you."

"Are you in-"

Meghan turned to look at the officer that spoke, "Don't raise your voice to me." Then she turned and walked through the trucks, heading towards Chelsea's tent. Heavy footsteps behind her told her that not only the Prawn, but the MNU officers were following her.

Reaching Chelsea's tent, she called, "Chelsea, you have someone that wants to see you?"

"Coming."

Meghan stepped back and nodded her head at the tent. The Prawn's mouthparts twitched, the tentacles drawing up and lowering, before he stepped to the entrance slightly. Meghan, meanwhile, stared at its back. Why did it want Chelsea? And what did it intend for her? She didn't believe it wanted to hurt her, but it specifically asked for her, and it seemed to have a specific purpose.

But what was it?

Meghan didn't believe the Prawns were mindless animals. Not at all. They were coherent thinking creatures with emotions and feelings. She had seen it first hand, their fear, their anger, their sadness. She knew they were people, just like her. People who had been abused, who had suffered oppression, prejudice and injustice. Who had been tortured and practically enslaved by the MNU, discarded by the rest of mankind.

But this one was here, for Chelsea specifically.

Had Chelsea managed to reach them, where Meghan had failed?

The flap moved back and Chelsea stepped out of her tent, "What is iiiiii…" The word trailed off into a sound as her eyes hit the Prawn's chest, and then lifted to find its face. Her mouth made an 'oh' of surprise and she blinked rapidly in open shock.

Her eyes jumped to Meghan, then glanced at the Prawn, then back at her.

"He asked for you."

"Me?" the word was a squeak.

"The doctor with the odd eyes."

"Me…" Chelsea looked up at the Prawn, breathing out sharply. "Hi."

His antennae swayed slowly, and then he tossed his head faintly, pointing at her. "Come with me. No one else. Just you." He kept his words short and simple. He knew she had a hard time understanding, it seemed.

Chelsea's mouth dropped open and she floundered for something to say. Finally, all she could manage was a choked, "Why?"

He stepped closer, bending down so his face was close to hers, "You claim you're not like MNU. That you're here to help us. Prove it."

"P-prove it?" she spluttered. "How would coming with you prove anything?" She gestured behind her, "We have everything set up here! We're here to he-"

He made an impatient sound, swiping his hand through the air, "You hide behind MNU. Look the same as them. We can't trust them. Can't trust you. You fear us. I can smell it on you." His antennae brushed her face as if to demonstrate this, making her lean back slightly. She jutted up her chin, taking the motion back, staring at him defiantly.

"I am afraid of you," she said quietly. "But I still want to help you."

"We have been shown too much cruelty to take your words at face value." He said it like he didn't really care if she understood or not. She didn't know it all, but she got the gist of it. Rather than be irritated, her face gentled and grew sad. His mouthparts moved, before he stepped even closer, ignoring this. "You're different, though. And I am willing to let you prove yourself to me. To us. Take a chance, so we can take a chance on you." He pointed at her, pressing a finger to her clavicle, "You want us to trust you," he splayed his hand over his own chest, "but you will not trust us."

Chelsea was silent as his words registered. Her eyes darted back and forth, looking into each of his, before a quiet breath slipped past her lips. It was true. She had expected them to come to her. They had all expected the aliens to line up for medical assistance. She had never thought of taking the medical assistance to them, to extend a hand of trust to them.

She had thought bringing the doctors to District 10 had been their first move, and that the ball was in their park. But it wasn't. As long as the MNU were around, as long as there were guns, as long as they insisted the Prawns meet their demands, the ball would always be in their park.

The Prawn before her was offering to help her even out the playing field, and give the Prawns a chance to give the humans a second chance at earning their trust.

"Alright," she said quietly. "I'll go with you."

~*~


A long chapter, I know. It was longer, believe me, but I cropped it back. Some Prawns were going to die, which would have been the distraction for Jeremy to get into the camp, but when I saw how big it was getting, I decided to pull it back and deleted that area.

Especially since it escalated into a fight between Chelsea and the MNU. Again.

I need to show less of her temper, I think.

Anyway. We were introduced to another of our three central characters, Michael, by name. We met him in the last chapter, but only have been officially introduced now. Yes, he is a large, powerful Prawn. It's been stated that the Prawns on earth are of a 'worker' caste, and need leadership. Christopher, however, was obviously much smarter than his fellows (he had a website, for crying out loud!) and his kid was a regular chip off the whoawtfgenius block. It made sense that there were would be 'other' castes as well.

Michael is a soldier caste.

The final of the three central characters will come in the next chapter. And no, it's not Wikus. He has his own spot to fill, but it's a secondary character spot, like Graham's and Callums and Natalie's, but it will be no less important.

If the character list starts getting too long, let me know and I'll slap a roster somewhere.

Final note: I know people have been referring to the Prawns as 'Poleepkwa', but that name is questionable in canon. The only time it is used is in 'Alive in Johannesburg', and it was said by a human, which means it could simply be a derogatory turn, such as 'Prawn'. And whilst Alive in Johannesburg was the short film District 9 was adapted from, I still consider them somewhat separate. So since 'Prawn' was the only name given to them in the film, and 'Outlanders' was how Christopher referred to his people on his blog, I'll be sticking with those.

Reviewer replies, because you guys rock my world and fill my inbox with love:

Firesafety: MNU LIES! And yes, MNU is evil. And since all the Prawns have known have been MNU and prejudiced humans, their trust is badly damaged, as you can imagine. Hopefully Chelsea and the doctors and the world that they will show the Prawns will allow them to regain that trust.

As for Wikus, I planned him to be in there from the get go. The story is going to affect all Prawns, not just a select few, and it would feel weird not to have him there. Besides, he really does love his wife, even if he is a xenophobic, Prawn-hating asshole. I want to give them some happiness. And maybe his experience as a Prawn will help humans understand them better…?

Christopher and Oliver will also be mentioned, as will Sherry, Christopher's 'other' child, and what happened to her/him. Whatever.

Herr Wozzeck: Heh. You could read Firesafety's review reply and have the same answers! And as for scenes of badassery from Chelsea? Oh yeah. You'll be expecting a lot of that. Behind her charity and her want to help lies a dark mind scarred deeply by what she has experienced, and I cannot wait to unleash it on the unsuspecting fools who invoke her wrath.

DestinyIntertwined: Believe me, you've seen nothing yet of the amount of pain Chelsea is willing to deal out to protect someone. And yes, she has gone through a lot. She did try to kill herself, after all, and she doesn't seem to be the kind of person that would make that decision lightly.

Speakfire: Chelsea's inability to recall the Prawn language is expected after three years of not using it. I think it was a stretch she recalled as much as she does. And yes, language barriers are the best for character development, because it shows what can transcend language, and what cannot.

I hope that I'm portraying the Prawn's mistrust of humans accurately, with enough room for a hope for the doctors! How's your fix treating you?

Pinkrollingstone: I hope this was enough for you!

Mistah Eleganzah: Thank you! Your compliments really help my confidence in myself, and I can say I'm greedy for more! Thank you for the character compliments, too. I tend to put too much thought in them, sometimes. It's just that, in life, everyone has a story, and I try to incorporate that in their mannerisms, even if it's not revealed exactly what it is.

However, if you dislike harm done to Prawns, maaaybe this isn't the story for you… I love them too, but twenty eight years of resentment will be hard to get over.

And for all of you that read this chapter and this story, thank you for your time. I hope you liked it! As always, creative criticism is always welcome. Flames will be doused with tears of mirth.