Beautifully Broken: Chapter 3 (part 2)
Title: Beautifully Broken
Author: E.E. Kelley
Summary: Without Christopher to keep him hidden, Wikus was quickly found by the MNU and forced back into captivity. The transformation too far along, there was little the officers could do but allow it to complete itself. Yet, even after he has become fully Prawn, they keep him around, determined to use his existence to find a way to use the alien weaponry. When Christopher returns in three years time, he returns to find the shell of the man he left. Will he be able to fix him before leaving with his people once more or will he have to take the broken soul with him?
Rating: R+
Pairings: Christopher/Wikus + CJ adorableness
A/N: Part 2. Nuff said!! Got it posted right before the day ended (literally).
Oh, Timeframe: we're at about 9 months in part one.
Chapter Three
Part Two
i.
He went through the motions, barely registering as blotchy face and his assistant, the lovely Nikki, took tissue samples from all six of his majour limbs. Only when they began to drag the knife against Wikus' head towards the double set of antenna did he react violently.
"I'd say tranq it, but the Director wants sedative drugs out of its system -- at least for today." the man shrugs, putting the knife back onto its tray, "Give him a final dose of what the Director gave to us and we'll finish this up tomorrow, anway. Hell, I'm exhausted. It's aleady eleven."
Wikus wondered briefly if the man meant in the morning or evening. His body had lost all connection with the time of day. Added to the fact that the MNU operated into the odd hours of the morning, there was no telling what time it was. A final needle stick, and the guards were called back into the room, ready to wheel Wikus to his cell. He didn't register any of it, and only when the gurney was turned onto its side, sending him sprawling limb over limb onto the dirty floor, did Wikus focus once more. Clicking a curse, Wikus righted himself and moved to the far corner. Remnants of his meal yesterday still stained the corner nearest the clear wall speckled against white in strangely fascinating patterns of flesh and gore.
He thought briefly of cleaning the floor -- it would only end up stinking over time -- but he couldn't think of eating anything, didn't want to think of that mess as food.
If Piet hadn't in fact lied, there was the smallest chance that his wife was coming, would see him today. The very thought of that made his stomach clench and the thought of food even less appealing. So Wikus just let himself fall asleep. It wasn't often that the MNU finished with him after such a short session. He should at the very least enjoy this single shard of peace.
He slept through restless dreams, through images of his his Wife and Father in Law, of the District and paper work, of Christopher and this very cell.
When finally he woke, Wikus felt as though he hadn't slept at all and pictures still churned about his head for hours on end. He was twitchy, nearly jumping out of his skin. Mandibles clacked together in irregular patterns against his will, and his secondary arms wouldn't keep still. He tried to focus on pleasant thoughts: Taina. Yet, those only led to wistful thinking that made his head hurt more and the torrent in his mind spin faster. In the end, slumped against the far wall with his head in his hands, Wikus focused on thoughts of -- strangely enough -- Christopher and his tiny son. When his mind started to wonder towards possibilities of being cured or not, he just turned them back to the prawn. Somehow, that made his head stop hurting and Wikus finally slept, no longer plagued by the maddening images of what should be.
When he woke again, what seemed like minutes later, it was to the sound of his door buzzing open: a perfectly timed alarm.
The same guards who had thrown him into the cell earlier retrieved him once more, this time not bothering with the gurney, instead pulling him down the hallway iron-clad grips. He stumbled as the men, much smaller and shorter even than his emasculated prawn frame, nearly slipping on the floor more times than he cared to count. He lost purchase completely twice, ending up on the ground twice, but after being pounded by those men's army-issue boots and dragged forward until he stood once more, WIkus focused completely on not letting himself again.
The men disposed of him in another room -- much similar to his own cell but so much larger. The ceiling was a huge, arched thing that reached up far past a second story, the walls curved into a circle. Wikus' nervous clicks bounced off and around the empty whiteness, coming back to him sounding like a dozen prawn.
One of the guards returned, sat two chairs in the far corner of the room from where Wikus was standing and pressed a button before leaving. A crackle rose as a new wall divided the room in two, slight charges bounding from floor to ceiling every so often as if in a race. The only door in the room was sectioned off from where Wikus stood.
For the first time since he had ever met his Father in Law, Wikus believed what he had said completely.
He stood on the far side of the room, nearly pressed against the wall while he rung his hands together. The doctors had taken samples of the tissue beneath the plates and he still ached. Nerves kept him moving, kept him grasping at his own hands because he needed to hold onto something, cricket-fast chirps refusing to stop. He stood on the far side of the room for what seemed like a couple hours, and as he did his agitation only rose, making his mind race with nonsense. When he was finally ready to admit that Piet had merely lied to him again, the lights dimmed on his side to twilight and a latch struck and the door opened.
Piet walked into the room, flanked by four black-clad guards carrying weapons twice the size of their own arms. They formed a wall around their Direction, moving like shadows as Piet did.
Wikus turned, scenting the air. It was a sweet scent, a clean scent. Even on Piet a rank stench of the District and these very laboratories clung to him like a second skin. This was something different, something that if he could put smells into colours would be pure white.
Two more guards moved through the door, weapons held aloft. He recognized the woman between the two of them and froze completely, everything in his system stopping at once at the sight.
Tania, his angel, moved with an uncertainty clearly evident in her soft strides. She was a small thing, appearing even smaller than she had before, pale with hair that seemed to glow golden. A plain pink shirt hung over her shoulders, making the woman look gaunt and stretched thin. When she began looking about, her father ushered her over to the two chairs where she sat beside him, moving so that her shoulders were pressed right up against his.
"You know why were here." her father said simply, placing a hand on Tania's shoulder. The woman nodded and began to search the room again. "Tania," Piet said, drawing her attention back to him, "I talked to you before about what happened; you saw the news before. I know that this is going to be hard, but until you accept what happened to him, there's no way you can move on."
The woman looked desperate, a glimmer of pain entering her gaze before settling back to uncertainty, finally stuttering, "I know. I just...I don't. This doesn't seem real."
Piet nodded, "I'm sorry. We tried every possibility when we found him, but it's as though he didn't want to leave District 9 or what--whoever was there with him. By the time we finally got him to MNU facilities, the disease had progressed too far. He is still contagious and, I hate to think it, not in control of his own mind. He may remember some things, but as time goes on that will as well be stripped away. We've tried everything, but after nearly a year our MNU scientists have assured me Wikus is barely in there anymore. He has some memories, but they are buried beneath instinct and rage. I'm sorry, Tania."
Tania looked up at her father, wide eyes bright with tears ."I know. You told me, it's just I can't believe he would do something like that, that he would--with an alien." her voice dwindled to a whisper and she ended up looking at the floor while tears rolled down her cheeks.
Piet put a hand on her shoulder, coaxing her to look at him once more. "You have to let it go. You cared for him, but that man is dead. He betrayed humans for an alien. He asked for this when he left you, it's not you're fault."
She nodded and slid closer to her father. "He's really gone, isn't he?"
"Yes, dear," Piet nodded, "as good as dead." He nodded to one of the guards who moved behind the pair towards a control panel. "But you know why we came here, don't you?"
"You wanted me to be able to move on. You couldn't stand to see me mourning."
"Yes. You need to let go and you can't if you don't get closure, Tania." Piet said, raising to his feet and pulling his daughter with him while motioning for the guard to raise the lighting.
Tania gasped, her voice faint.
Wikus had moved away from the wall, crouched and poised as if ready to spring. As if a starting shot, the lights threw him back into uncertainty, thoughts racing faster than he could grasp them. He stood on shaky legs, moving towards the centre-mark where the electric wall hummed. Secondary arms grasped at thin air and mandibles chattered even as Wikus tried to still himself. Something inside of him wouldn't allow for any measure of control.
"That's not him." she said simply, stepping back, behind Piet. "No."
"I am sorry, but we talked about this before. He contracted a disease because of a sexual relationship with an infected prawn in the District. There is no cure."
Wikus moved again towards the centre, faster than any human would be able to. He reached out as if trying to touch his wife. "Tani-a!" he buzzed, words he had practiced refusing to form right. "Ba-ab-y, it mmme!" tiny chirps filled the spaces between letters, making it almost impossible to understand. Frustrated, Wikus made a fist and brought it down hard on the electric wall, sending shards of pain and a waterfall of gold and blue sparks. Tania flinched and moved further away. The tears were starting again.
"He-e di-id su-mmmt-hing," Wikus stammered, body working involuntarily, words refusing to settle out, a growl starting in his chest, "too mee!"
Piet looked at him, eyes full of false pity, "You don't remember anymore. I've been here, trying to help you."
"No-t fook'in tru-ue! Lie!" Wikus bashed against the wall again, words dissolving into animal sounds. The growl that had been in his throat rose to the surface, sounding dark and feral. Tania shuffled away and it was as though the dam broke.
Lunging forward, Wikus threw his entire mass against the electric wall, screaming out non-words that were in his mind curses. He didn't know what he was doing, just that he had to get to Piet and tear him limb from limb. It was the first week all over again as Wikus pounded on the surface until plates cracked and bled black blood. Finally exhausted, Wikus dropped to the ground panting like a dog between mouth-tentacles. Tania had backed away and stood between the guards sobbing. Piet stood in front of her, a smirk hidden form his daughter as he looked at Wikus.
"I told you," he said, words full of comfort but face telling another story, "He's gone, Tania. Mental deterioration is becoming more rapid and there's nothing we can do to stop the process."
Tania let out a final, choked sob and nodded to her father. "I know. That's not him, that's not my Wikus anymore!" she cried, words breaking back into tears. "I understand what you were trying to tell me. So sorry I couldn't -- wouldn't listen to you, Dad."
"Not your fault, dear." Piet said, turning to comfort Tania and whispering something to the guards.
Another button was pressed and Wikus was engulfed in blackness once more before the sting of a dart knocked him out completely. He roard as he fell into unconscious and the last thing he heard was Tania's screaming sobs as she ran from the room.
Wikus woke in his white cell and cried until the doctor came to get him the following day. He let them take take samples from the antenna, barely feeling outward pain. Everything else passed in a blur. He didn't see Piet again.
ii.
Too much time had passed. Wikus didn't know how long it had been, he really didn't care anymore. He just waited in his cell, did whatever the MNU told him to do, stared at the white walls for hours on end as though he could bleach his mind completely with images of nothing. The doctors had moved on to different tests, littler surgeries every other week. He hurt, but he probably deserved the pain. He couldn't think straight anymore, couldn't do anything but whimper in the corner and wait for his food to be delivered whenever the felt like feeding him or for the doctors to come for testing. He just wanted the MNU to finish with him so this could all be over. Wikus didn't care anymore, he just wanted an end.
SIDENOTE: when I was looking up reference images for Piet Smit's appearance (since the DVD isn't yet in my possession), I couldn't find anything, just kept coming across THIS I'm slightly amused and will now assume that Piet Smit's has a duel career as an "Afrikaanse Artist who has the Lord Jeaus as his saviour (since 1989).
