The Final Hoo-rah

-

The odd-looking orange drink was pressed into his hand again, and Wikus eyed it suspiciously for a moment or two. "Is this...?" He asked, his voice slow and cautious.

Christopher gave a snort-like noise, that came out as a 'cliakkk' sound, before pushing the cup firmly into Wikus' hand. "It's just a drink. I would not administer the antidote without consulting you first."

Wikus believed that. Hell, it was Christopher. Their saviour. He wouldn't do something that underhand and disastrous, would he? No, of course not.

"What happened on the trip to earth?" Wikus prodded, his hands curling around the strange metallic-like cup. Was everything made of metal here? "Why did you take so long?"

Christopher sighed, and, after grabbing a cub of drink for himself, he settled in the chair beside Wikus.

There should have been more happiness, more joy in their reunion, Wikus mused. It should have been chirping, clicking and general joy. He should have embraced the other Prawn, holding on so tight he was afraid he'd break. There was none of that, and glancing at Christopher from the corner of his eyes, as the taste of apples burst over his taste buds, Wikus knew the story of their survivors return would not be a happy one, no matter how much it should have been.

"When we returned to our home planet with good time. It took us less then a human year to reach it. We were greeted with a heroes welcome...but when it was suggested that we returned to the enslaving planet to rescue our fallen brethren, the council's opinions changed, and we were treated with suspicion. They thought that we were trying to take more of our people back to be captured, and refused to send any army members to accompany us. If the humans had attacked, this ship is unarmed and we would have been shot from the sky."

Wikus winced. Good thing the humans didn't know that fact, else...well, things would not be pleasant.

"The council refused to let us take flight again for a few human years, insisting that if we were only on a rescue mission, that there was no rush for us to return. I tried to explain about my promise, but I felt uneasy mentioning you to the council, so I kept my promise to you a secret. Oliver knew to keep his mouth shut as well. If they had known about you..."

Christopher trailed off and Wikus stared down at his cup. He had hated Christopher for more than a year after he had failed to return...he had been a prisoner on his own planet, unable to return, and Wikus had been hating him thousands of light years away.

"The return to earth took longer. Your planet is not on our maps, and has been avoided for many generations...we now discovered why."

They chuckled, perhaps a little darkly, at that.

"Oliver is quite adept at navigation and was able to remember some of the signs to allow us to navigate our return to Earth. Had it not been for him, we may not have made it in the time we did." Christopher paused. "Have you seen Oliver? He will be disappointed if he didn't see you before you...left."

"He brought me here," Wikus explained, realising he hadn't even said goodbye to the little Poleepkwa. He wouldn't see him again, if all went well...he wouldn't see Joseph or Amelia either. He clenched his hands, unaware that the cup had begun to bend beneath his heavy hands.

"That explains it then," Christopher said, with a small laugh. "He is the reason behind your...surprise appearance then."

"Yes," Wikus agreed, eyes crinkling at the corners. "He said he wanted it to be a surprise."

"It certainly was."

The silence was back, but it was not heavy or uncomfortable like it had been early. It was...peaceful, in a way. It stretched between them, like a tangible force and Wikus felt no need to break it, but as he finished his drink, he couldn't stay silent anymore.

"He's grown."

"Oliver?" Christopher clarified, looking bemused. It was strange being able to recognize emotions on the Poleepkwan face, but it was almost instinctual now. "It has been six human years."

"Human years," Wikus latched onto that. "Why do you keep saying it like that? Are Poleepkwa years so different?"

If Christopher was surprised at his use of the correct terminology for his race, he didn't show it. "Yes. Your year goes by quickly, ours is long and arduous. A Poleekwan year is equivalent to three human years."

"Two years...you've been gone two years."

"Two Poleekwan years, yes, but so much longer in your human mind," Christopher reached out, wrapping his clenched fist against the top of Wikus' skull, between his antennae. The gesture startled another laugh out of Wikus.

"Thank you," Wikus said impulsively, suddenly without real thought, unsure of what he was thanking him for.

"For what?" Christopher asked, as confused as Wikus.

"I don't know...everything?"

Christopher shook his head and plucked the cup from between his hands, getting to his feet and storing the sculpted metal into a chest-like metal storage...thing. "Don't thank me yet."

"Why not?"

"You haven't even tested to see if the cure will cure you or not."

"I trust you..." he said simply, before quickly adjusting it. "I trust that you know what you're doing, Christopher. You're the one who got me into this situation to begin with."

Christopher's eyes crinkled slightly. "Actually, Wikus, it was you that got you into this situation."

Wikus waved off the statement, "just pointless details." They both laughed at that, but the room fell silent quickly, and this time the silence was stretched almost painfully.

"Tell me more about Oliver," Wikus said, before Christopher could open his mouth, "you said he navigated you all here? That little shrimp?"

He was grasping at straws. He was filling the silence with the chatter he had always hated, nonsensical and useless, but it put off all the realizations he didn't want to face for a little longer.

-

As much as he wanted to, the silly chatter could only fill the void for a little while, and soon the silence had settled again. When he finally could not think of anything else to ask, his hands clenched in his lap and he stared at the surrounding brews of oddly coloured liquids.

A hand touched his arm and he jerked it away, instinctively, and his eyes sought Christopher. The elder Poleepkwa (well, actually Wikus didn't know how old Christopher was, but it just seemed right to think of him as 'older' seeing as he had been a Poleepkwa longer than Wikus had) looked concerned.

"Wikus?"

The question posed so many more than the obvious one and he sighed, getting to his feet. "You better show me this cure then, shouldn't ya?" He said, forcing a grin to his face, forgetting that his mouth was not human yet, and probably displayed a quite disgusting face. Christopher snickered, and got to his feet as well, seemingly cheered by the hideous face.

"I kept it in a safe place," he told Wikus, leading him further into the room. It was like a maze of things Wikus didn't know the names of and probably never would. "These are all ingredients to brews to cure the common ailments. Your ailment was a little more serious, so I didn't' want the other Poleepkwa to stumble across it."

Other Poleepkwa. Damn. There was that thought of Joseph again.

"Ailment?" Wikus prodded, to fill the silence.

Christopher shot a strange look over his shoulder, and Wikus suddenly wanted to step back. "That's what it is, Wikus. An ailment. Like an illness that won't leave. The fuel should have killed you, or that is our belief, but instead your body changed, adapting rapidly to support the disease that was spreading in your body. If we Poleepkwan get it on our selves, it does nothing, because our body can support the chemicals. Humans...aren't designed for it. Instead of killing you instantly, your body adjusted to the poison, and changed so you wouldn't be effected by it."

Wikus was, admittedly and probably would good reason, rather stunned. He'd never thought of why his body was like this, only the frustration at being Poleepkwan, instead of human. "Do all humans do that, or just me?" He asked, the last part added as a sort of joke, but Christopher tensed.

"We don't know. We don't want to know. To test that we would have to subject multiple humans to the torture you went through. That's not what we want. We want to go home, Wikus, that's all."

Home. There was that word again. They would all go home and then Wikus would go home and they would all be home. It was just that their 'homes' were separated by a few thousand light years.

"I didn't say you did, Christopher," Wikus said quietly, trying to get the other male to untense. "I was just asking."

Christopher sighed. "You and your human curiousity, Wikus, you remind me a infant Poleepkwan with all your questions." It was a joke, a tease, a gentle taunt, and it made Wikus laugh loudly. The sound was almost deafening, so he stopped quickly, embarrassed to see a faint smile lingering in Christopher's eyes.

They had reached the back of the room, and pressing his hand to the gray material on the wall, Christopher watched as the wall lit up in various codes, he knew exactly which ones to press and when, and soon the wall slid open, revealing a single case containing a single vial.

It was all that would be needed.

Wikus stepped up beside Christopher, and stared at the vial that contained his salvation, his humanity.

There was no putting it off any longer. It was within his grasp.

Despite it's closeness, it was Christopher who finally reached out and opened the case, taking the vial in hand and stepping back. Wikus followed him, until they'd retreated to the front of the room, by the chairs again.

"Are you ready?"

A million answers flowed through his head, all of them centeralised around one word 'yes!' but in the back of his mind nudged the answer 'no' that just wouldn't go away.

"What will happen?" Wikus asked, staring at the white liquid in the vial.

Christopher stared at it as well. "I don't know. You could be cured instantly, or it could take days, but we will return you to earth as soon as we can, and after you've finished transforming back. There..." he paused. "There is one side effect, Wikus."

Wikus half-expected there would be, and he clenched his fists, not looking away from his humanity. "What is it?"

"You won't remember being Poleepkwan."

No.

That meant...

It couldn't be.

Six years...Six years of his life...would be gone?

-

AN: I love writing Wikus, he's such a hypocrite.

Thank you to all the reviews/interest in the last chapter, glad people enjoyed the meeting.

The next chapter is the cure-scene, for those interested.

Reviews are loved,

-Liaa