Disclaimer: Naturally I own none of this.
A/N: The idea was floating around and once I started doodling Wikus with a lightsaber, I simply had to. This takes place along the Clone Wars timeline. Speech within / \ indicates Poleepkwa. Comments, reviews, and input are always welcome.
Chapter Three
Earth, District 10
He was dreaming again. Constantly the painful, frightening transformation that Wikus had undergone due to the Poleepkwa infection chased him into his dreams. The memory of his new carapace emerging from the fleshy shell he'd previously called his body had been brutally seared into his subconscious. Even the pain chased him into those dreams. Fitfully Wikus tossed on his cot as he sank deeper into the nightmare.
The prawn clicked, and Wikus, writhing in agony on the filthy mattress, understood nothing. Not that it mattered; it was speaking with another of its kind. There were several prawns gathered around him. They had formed a circle around him and looked down on the man with unreadable expressions. He didn't know where he was – but, oh God! Something warm was running down his face. He reached up with his hand and came away with that viscous black fluid the transformation was producing. Whimpering Wikus touched his face again, his fingers seeking the source and finding where the flesh was tearing apart.
Revulsion gripped him, making him gag as he explored it. Around him and above him the conversation of the assembled prawns grew quiet. They watched him curiously. He choked on a sob and, swallowing his disgust, gripped a flap of his skin.
Before he could rip it off there were strong arms were pulling his hands away, pinning them to the mattress. He cried out and fought to no avail. But in his struggle he could feel the flesh on his back stretching, pulling away and finally tearing off as the forming exoskeleton emerged.
Startled, Wikus jerked from the dream, sitting up in his bed. He panted heavily as his heartbeat slowed. The tent seemed unusually bright for morning. The brightness was disorienting to Wikus who wondered how the dawn had got so bright. He blinked, swiveling his head to see John sitting at the table.
/Good afternoon.\ John said mildly, glancing to Wikus then looking back to the paper spread out on the table. It was more than a month old and was torn and dirty after being rescued from a rubbish heap.
/Afternoon? I slept through the morning?\ Wikus asked with concern. He stood and staggered to the door, pushing aside the flap and looking into the sky. At the top of the azure arch of the heavens the sun glared down. Wikus shielded his eyes and retreated back into the tent.
/After yesterday I figured it was best to let you sleep. Though … it did not look like your sleep was very restful?\
/It's nothing.\
John raised one brow, cocking his head towards Wikus whose gruff answer had given away much. Clearing his throat John tapped at a section of the paper. Wikus stood at John's shoulder and looked down. He took in the headline and started to scan the following article.
/Still they complain what a drain we are on their resources.\ John said with wonderment. Wikus had come to know John well in the last year and a half. He had struggled to accept his condition and John's friendship had made the process bearable. John, with remarkable patience, had born Wikus' wildly alternating moods. No matter how angry he grew or how far he sunk into depression John had responded with unsettling serenity.
/And yet, when we try to show some independence – they crush our small garden. It was a good idea Wikus. The others haven't given up hope. When I passed this morning a few of them were working in it.\ John was saying.
/Did you give up hope?\
John looked a bit startled at the question. His antenna straightened and the tentacles at his mouth seemed to work together in apprehension.
/Not for us.\ John said at last. He sighed and closed his eyes. /I just don't know about the humans anymore.\
Wikus sat on the cot, staring at his alien hands. He was surprised to find the words sting. /John – I, I'm sorry for how we've treated you.\
/Now if we can just get a few more of you to see life from our side everything will be okay.\ John beamed. He winked at Wikus and chuckled.
-.-.-.-
John and Wikus moved through the camp together. Indeed there were prawns working in the garden. It buoyed Wikus a bit to see they weren't giving up. He couldn't believe he'd once viewed them all as shiftless and destructive. There were none in District 10 were as smart as Christopher, Wikus was certain of that. But there were prawns here that were eager to work, to learn, to just get on with their lives. Of course, there was always the undercurrent of hope. It had spread with unstoppable force in the wake of the spectacular departure Christopher had made. The whisper of a rescue coming had become a mantra against the nearly daily humilities and hardships forced on them.
It also made the lines more bearable. There were always lines in District 10. Lines to collect food. Lines to use water pumps. Lines to check in with their resettlement officers.
The resettlement officers had been a surprise to Wikus. Before his transformation there had been no mention at MNU about this new procedure. Now, once a month all prawns were required to visit with an MNU resettlement officer. The two million plus population had been divided into sections, with each area assigned to meet their resettlement officer on a particular day. The meeting lasted less than a minute and consisted of filing past a desk and giving their name to the nervous looking MNU employee sitting on the other side of it. There seemed to be no point to the process.
Not for the first time Wikus worried that they would recognize him. He'd seen a few familiar faces during the process, and each one had caused a feeling of panic. It seemed certain that they would see past his assumed identity and suddenly the guards watching over the process would bear down on him and he'd be dragged back to MNU headquarters. Invariably the old friend or coworker would take his name down, referencing it against a checklist and wave him off.
Today the desk was staffed by strangers Wikus noted, craning his neck to look ahead. Behind him and John a fight had broken out. Before the MNU guards could intervene the prawns stopped and backed off, standing as far apart as possible while still being in the line.
/They should know better.\ John muttered, glaring at the disruptive prawns who were too busy glaring at each other to take notice of anything else. Wikus, unsure of what to say, only shrugged. As a human he would have witnessed that as the prawns natural behavior. As a prawn, Wikus was just at a loss. So he shrugged again and shuffled forward with the line.
/Why don't they do this when they hand out the food?\ Wikus wondered aloud. He glanced to John.
/I thought you would know the answer to that.\ John blinked. /You're the human.\
Before Wikus could respond he saw a flash of blonde hair. The resettlement officer at the desk had taken her wide brimmed hat off. He felt his heart freeze while his eyes saw his wife sitting there, shaking her hair out in the midday sun. For all too brief a moment Wikus was certain it was her, she'd gotten a job to be closer to him, to find him. Before he could even entertain getting a message to her that it was her beloved Wikus standing in front of the desk the hope flared and turned to ash.
The blonde looked down the line, probably counting the number of prawns left for her to process, but it seemed to Wikus that she was staring at him as though she'd read his mind. As he really saw her Wikus inhaled and fought off the bitter disappointment. The woman sitting there was blonde, but that was all she had in common in with Tania. Where his Tania was lovely and angelic this woman was too thin, her sharp, angular face having spent too much time in the sun. The resettlement officer swept her hair back from her face and pushed the hat back onto her head. She plucked her pen up and motioned the next prawn forward.
/Someone you know?\ John asked. He'd seen Wikus' terror when the desk was occupied by a human he'd know from his old life. This hadn't been terror though. It confused John.
/No.\ Wikus said softly.