D'aaawwww, you guys! I love you all for hanging in there and being so goddamn patient! And to all my new readers: welcome to the craziest fandom on Earth! I'm sooo sorry it's taken me this long to update, 'specially since so many of you complimented me on being punctual! I really wish I could say that this chapter signals a return to normalcy, but sadly I have major surgery in about 12 hours, and I may be incapacitated for quite some time. I'm sorry! Do not fear, though; I shall not give up on this fic! Lots of holiday luuurve, darlings!

Also, random comment pertaining to this chapter: Arguments always take place in kitchens. Is it because of the convenience of knives?

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Some hours later, Wikus awoke slowly as the midmorning sunlight crept through the picture windows. He opened his eyes gradually and rubbed the sleep from them before glancing up at Christopher. The prawn was still asleep, the gills on his broad neck moving evenly. Wikus let his head fall gently back onto the alien's chest, sighing. Chris' arms came up unconsciously and wound around the human, pulling him closer. Wikus 'hmmm'ed lazily, enjoying the creature's body warmth.

The door clicked open.

Wikus started to sit up, hoping it was just the kid, but-

-there was a gasp, and the door shut quickly.

"Oh, fook." He wrestled his way out of the blankets (and Chris' arms) and scrambled over to the entrance, wrenching the door open again and bolting into the hallway just in time to catch a glimpse of Tania as she vanished down the stairs.

"Fook, fook, fook!" He went stumbling after her. "Wait – Tania, I – wait!" Any second now, the front door would slam and she would be on her way to MNU to tell them that she'd been mistakenly sheltering an alien-fucking outlaw. "Shit! Tania, wa-" He came to a sudden halt when she spun around in front of the refrigerator to face him.

"You going to try to explain this?" She demanded angrily. "It'd better be a good fucking explanation, Wikus!" He almost flinched; he'd never heard her swear more than the occasional 'damn' or 'shit'. She took no notice. "I didn't believe them, you know, when they showed me those pictures. I believed you. Remember? I-I got over the videos, Wikus. You didn't realize what you were doing. But I saw those photos and I thought, god, that's just too much. That's not real. And now I find out that you really were-?"

"No!" He cut her off, desperately trying to explain. "Tania, look, when you saw those pictures – those weren't real. They weren't. I'd never done anything like that-"

"But you have now?" Her voice was dark and dangerous and barely controlled, like a mamba in a cage. "Jesus, Wikus, is that – is that why he kept you safe? So he could have you as some kind of – of sex slave? Did he fucking rape you?" Her eyes filled with shock and a new kind of horrified revulsion. He shook his head frantically.

"No! No, Tania, god, no! Fook, if anything, I-" he stopped himself, but she picked up on what he hadn't said anyway, and her gave, which had been prepared to offer pity, suddenly became hard and accusing.

"'If anything, you-' what? You raped him? Fucking hell, Wikus, what-"

He interrupted her again before she could go any further in her indictment. "No, it wasn't – it wasn't like that; we both-" What? We both wanted it? How can I say that when I don't even know if it's true? How can I expect her to understand? "We just…Chris is…he's different, you can tell that just from meeting him; it wasn't just…it was – we were – he's – I mean, I…it was only the one time, but then last night, I…I was being an idiot, and I – but he – I just didn't-" he knew he wasn't making any kind of sense anymore; that he was babbling and that she wouldn't have a clue what he was going on about, but he couldn't stop the words pouring out of him until she held up a hand.

"Wikus," she began in her 'let-me-get-this-straight' voice. "Are you trying to say that you're…in love with him?"

He was silent for a long time. "I…" His throat felt raw and hoarse. He closed his eyes as he felt the words escape. "I am, yes." He was surprised by how easily it slipped out, this confession that was probably the worst sin any religion could dream up. His eyes opened slowly, expecting her look of abhorrence. Instead, she bore a neutral, almost thoughtful expression. Her arms crossed in front of her chest, she held his gaze a moment, then nodded.

"Alright," she said calmly. "I'm not…I'm not sure how I feel about this yet. I need to…I'm gonna go out for a bit. I just need to think." She turned away, still pensive, and walked to the front door. "There's food in the fridge; I should be back in about…I don't know. I'll be back later. Just…just, whatever, work things out between yourselves. Should I take Oliver with me?"

"Uh…" Wikus was distantly aware of slight noises from upstairs; the familiar shuffling and footsteps of someone getting out of bed. He made himself form sentences. "I, uh, don't think Christopher would really – he doesn't like to trust other people with the kid. It's nothing personal; it just comes from living in the district."

"Right." She nodded again. "Okay. I understand. Later, then."

"Yeah." He watched as she left, feeling that he should say something more, but unsure of what he could say without fucking everything up. He opened his mouth, then closed it as she shut the front door. In the distant background of the upper level of the house, he heard a faint fwoosh and a rushing sound.

The sound of running water. Two and two clicked together.

Christopher was in the shower.

"Oh, fooking…" He groaned, casting guilty glances toward the door and back up the stairs. How the fuck am I supposed to be able to hold a coherent conversation with him if he's all…He shivered as his mind automatically threw images of the alien, exoskeleton shining and glossy with warm water, clouds of steam rising off him… He growled in frustration and conflict. Looked up at the flight of stairs. "Oh, fook this." He charged up the stairs.