A/N: Thanks to everyone for sticking with me and for the nice reviews. Here's the last part of this, finally. It actually turned out a lot less dark than I'd initially thought it would be, though it wound up with a slightly creepy(to me anyway) ending. Happy reading. :)

Warnings: Violence, eventual slash and xenophilia. Cannibalism.

Disclaimer: I do not own District 9, all characters are property of the respective copyright holders. I am making no profit from this work of fiction.

o

"There is no easy walk to freedom anywhere, and many of us will have to pass through the valley of the shadow of death again and again before we reach the mountaintop of our desires." – Nelson Mandela

,.,

He ran.

He could hear the shrieks of the hunting soldiers, high and piercing, but not the triumphant cries of a successful kill. He paused in the street and scanned the shacks around him.

No sign of life. He risked a low call, the soft searching cry of parent to child.

The hatchling popped out of a pile of refuse.

"Father!"

He scooped the child up and pressed him close, hearts pounding with relief. He'd caught no scent of the hatchling's blood, but the separation had still provoked an instinctive terror in him.

He loosed the child's grip on his throat and adjusted him against his side. Pushed the canister into tiny claws.

"Hold onto this, little one. And hang on tight."

,.,

The ship was still open and undisturbed. He hurried down the ladder and set the hatchling down before turning and closing the hatch, barring it from the inside.

He reached for the canister and the child, a mere shadow in the dim glow of the emergency lights, handed it over. He moved towards the front of the ship, seeking the correct input port.

"Father?"

"What is it, little one?"

There, set into a panel close to the floor. He knelt, ducking beneath a mass of wires.

"Where is Wikus?"

He fumbled the canister for a moment, dropping it to the floor of the ship with a dull clank.

"Gone," he said shortly as he retrieved the cylinder.

"I thought he was coming with us."

The canister slid into place and the ship hummed to life, main lights flickering for a moment before brightening, "No."

"Where is he?"

His shoulders sagged, "Still outside."

"Are we going to leave him there?"

"You are more important. I swore I would get you to safety."

"What about him?"

He stared at the wall before him.

"Didn't you say we have to stay together?"

Run! I'll draw them off!

He shuddered.

"Father?"

He felt his resolve crack, waver and reform.

He turned a sharp gaze upon the child.

"Listen to me very closely, little one. I am going to go back out there. If I have not returned in five minutes, I want you to start the ship, just like I taught you. The coordinates are set; it will take you home. After five minutes, whether or not I have returned, I want you out of here."

"But—"

"Five minutes, understand?"

"What if—"

"Understand?"

Small antennae drooped, "Yes, Father. I promise."

Hold on, Wikus.

,.,

He raced through the streets, weapon clutched in his hand, towards the baying of the soldiers, leaping piles of garbage and skidding down the sides.

A low rumble split the air, shaking and vibrating the shacks around him, drowning the hunting cries. He froze, gaze darting to the ship above him.

For a moment he thought the hatchling had started the vessel, even though less than a minute had passed. But as a mechanical whir drew his attention to a nearby shack and the cockpit of an exosuit gaped open, he realized.

Four minutes.

He tossed aside the arc gun and climbed in.

,.,

The exosuit turned the maze of the district into a flat plain. He leaped over shacks, charged across open streets, following the sound trail.

Three minutes.

There.

Up ahead four soldiers had Wikus treed atop a flat roof. The human rained garbage down upon his pursuers, chunks of metal and stone, howling.

"Come on you fokkers! You want me?" the man made an obscene gesture with one bloody hand and flung another bit of rock. "I'm not fokking scared of you!"

Two minutes.

The weapons of the exosuit leapt to his command.

Two of the soldiers disintegrated and he cleared the final shack in a bound, landing beside the man's refuge.

"Wikus!"

Another soldier, mad with blood, attacked from the left. He batted it away, hearing the crunch of exoskeleton as the blow connected.

"Christopher? What the fok are you doing here? I told you—"

"No time! We must go! Climb on!" He held up the arm of the exosuit next to the roof.

"But I—"

"Now!"

The man gave the exosuit a doubtful look but scrambled on, clinging to the wires and components like a strange grey and white parasite. He shifted slightly, bending the arm to compensate for the weight.

"I'm on."

One minute.

He ran.

,.,

Up ahead the ground shook and buckled. He skidded to a halt, nearly throwing Wikus off, if the sound of his cursing was any indication, and watched.

The earth swelled, bulging upward as the ship rose from its grave like some ponderous and ancient creature from a mudhole, raining filth and garbage upon the landscape.

Slowly the vessel lifted, turning on an unseen axis as the engines rotated into position. The structures rumbled and glowed as the ship prepared to ascend.

In desperation, he reached for the suit controls and pinged the command module, hoped against hope the message would go through, that the hatchling would understand…

The side hatch of the ship slid open.

He felt breath return even as he darted forward, lifted his arm with Wikus still attached, and clamped onto the entryway with the crude digits of the exosuit.

The ship halted in its rotation, engines squawking in protest and he fought the pull, straining to hold the vessel steady.

"Wikus, climb!"

The human scrambled, wriggling along the length of the metal arm with more skill than he would have expected from a ground dwelling species. With a kick of boots and a flail of limbs, Wikus disappeared over the fingers of the suit and into the hatch.

Now for the tricky part. Claws danced along the interface panel, inputting commands. The metal fingers of the exosuit locked into place, independent of his grip. A flick of controls and the cockpit of the suit split open. He swung out into open air.

The ship was quivering, the engines grinding and popping as it heaved against the weight. He hurried around the back of the suit and began to scale it.

His claws hooked in between components as he hauled himself upwards. He could see the blue glow of the ship's internal lighting. Wikus' face, wan beneath blotches of filth and blood, peering at him through the open hatch. The man's hand extended towards him.

He reached.

Weight slammed into him and pain flared as something clamped down on the plating of his leg. He twisted, lashing out.

A soldier, missed in his charge through the district, clung to him, mandibles sunk into his limb.

A cry of alarm, him or Wikus, he wasn't sure, burst forth and human fingers fastened around his wrist even as he clawed at the creature, kicking and striking.

Wikus was shouting, words lost in the bellow of the engines as exosuit components cracked and began to give way. He felt the weight of the soldier begin to drag him down as the support of the suit failed.

He reached out with his free hand, grasped the twitching antennae of the soldier, and ripped.

A scream the likes of which he'd never heard split the air, half-muffled by his own flesh. Mandibles unlocked and the soldier fell free. A shudder, a crack and the exosuit dropped out from beneath him, leaving him dangling from open hatch.

Freed from the weight, the ship lunged into the air, almost shaking him free. He groped for the edge of the hatch. Wikus had his feet braced against the edges of the hatch as he struggled to hold him. His claws dug into Wikus' forearm as he tried to use his free hand to lever himself up.

An endless moment of straining, scrambling and then he was through, inside, tumbling on top of Wikus, onto the floor of the ship.

They lay for a moment, panting, before Wikus broke the silence.

"Crazy fokking prawn."

He pressed his face into the human's clothes and laughed and laughed.

,.,

The command module ascended above the district through cold clouds of ash and moisture, shaking off the final scraps of human refuse as it rose to merge with the mothership.

He leaned against the hull of the ship, listened as the module locked into place, the groan of metal and the whirl of components. The deep roar as the ship sprang to life, engines igniting and sending out a shockwave across dead land, shaking the remains of the city.

He wondered if all of his people were truly gone, sunk beneath the blood madness, or if some looked up, recognized the vessel which had been both prison and refuge. A reminder on an alien planet.

A symbol of home.

He pulled his child to him and shut his eyes, breathing in deeply, tasting the familiar scents, blended with the alien musk of the human who sat nearby. The tiny body squirmed against his and the hatchling spoke.

"Father?"

"Yes?"

"I'm hungry."

The words were soft, apologetic, tinged with the fear of one who has learned not to ask for things. He tightened his grip on the child, "Of course, little one." He released the hatchling and despite his weariness, rolled to his feet and straightened, "Come, we must get the ship into orbit. Then food." His gut gave a pleased squirm in anticipation of breaking into the dry stores he'd laid in years before, small though they were, "How does that sound?"

The child brightened, "That sounds good."

He started to tug the hatchling towards the fore of the ship, but paused when he realized Wikus was not following.

"Wikus?"

The man remained seated, face pressed into his knees.

"Wikus? Is something wrong?"

The human shook his head.

"Wasn't supposed to be like this," he said. "I could have gone out all blaze of glory. It'd be alright. I could face her then. Now," he trailed off, "what the fok am I supposed to do now?"

A mix of sorrow and alarm tugged at him, "You wished for death?"

"No, yes, fok, I don't know," Wikus' head sagged.

The child's hand tightened in his.

"There's nothing left," the man said finally "She's gone. No people, no planet. Fok, even no God."

He hesitated and released the hatchling's hand, gently touching small antennae before returning to the human's side. He knelt and reached out, lifted Wikus' chin and looked into his eyes. Examined the gold vermiculate patterns beginning to creep across the left iris. Tracks of change and new beginnings.

"My people," he said. "My planet. My god."

Wikus looked at him, questioning.

"They are yours, if you will have them."

The man stared at him for a long moment, and then a loosening, a giving, and a spark kindled in those changing eyes.

"I'll hold you to that, you crazy prawn."

The man's kiss tasted of black fluid and human blood.

o

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