Yes, I know, I know, you guys are saying, "Another fanfic? Are you up out of your mind?". Well, whatever, I just keep on coming up with ideas for new fanfics, and I'm too lazy to finish what I already have. Awesome.

This here is going to be an odd fanfic, I'm not sure if this idea has been enacted or tried at all, but I got the inspiration and idea one day, so, whatever.

Disclaimer: I don't own Evangelion or its characters. Gainax does, and they rock. Who else could create both Evangelion and FLCL!

Tokyo 3, Japan

Unknown Location

The man stood there, his long gray trench coat drifting in the wind, a tired look on his face. He was a bald man of medium stature with an arch of a black mustache and gray, drabby clothes.

He lit the cigarette drooping limply against his lips and then turned with a sigh to the figure standing behind him.

Kiriyama was a young man, he couldn't have been older than twenty five, Kirishima estimated, and he seemed to always have a perpetual look of nervous agitation on his face.

Kiriyama stared at the older bald man and then finally spoke; his voice stable with a good deal of energy.

"Comrade Kirishima…Has he arrived yet? Can you not see them in the distance?"

Kirishima sighed once more and peered at the young man, Kiriyama. No one knew each other's first names; indeed the names they called each other by were mere last minute creations. But this did not matter.

The bald man peered warily at the eager young man, shaking his head as he took a puff from his cigarette.

"And why are you so eager, Comrade Kiriyama? So eager that you would join the cause?"

Kiriyama seemed to avert his gaze from the older man, then turn back a few seconds later, a confident look on his face.

"It's romantic to give one's life to this cause, to the cause of God, our Creator and Noble Father. His gifts of love are spat on like so much trash by the vermin of Sodom around here, and the supreme Vermin himself! I cannot stand to watch the beggars crawl the streets of Tokyo 3, their salvation held from them by man!"

Kirishima sighed once more, apparently a consistent habit of his, and turned away, a scowl on his face.

Hmmm…young people these days…rare to find one so optimistic and eager…They told me he was a poet…Not good, a little emotion and idealism is fine in other places, but not with what we have been directed to do by the Council.

"Such words…Do you really believe in them?"

Kiriyama seemed to almost blush, as if he were embarrassed, and he averted his eyes once more, his black bangs falling in front of his eyes with the swivel of his small head.

"Yes…Yes I do. I believe in the Works of God…and that we must destroy those who wish to prevent His Will."

Kirishima nodded, although it seemed more to himself, as if he were affirming something.

Yes, yes…just as I thought, idealistic and eloquent…He will not have the spine to carry through, I know it. Thank God for-

The bald man's inner thoughts were cut off by the sound of footsteps on the ground, images of inane dust rising up with every step of the polished black boots strolling towards them.

The boots were owned by a tall, muscular, gruff man with a beard of black scrabble and a similarly ruffled shock of black, messy hair.

He locked eyes with Kirishima and simply nodded, an emotionless look on his face. There was no codeword, no elaborate greeting. Just a grave nod to signify acquiescence.

The gruff man spoke, his words delivered in a harsh, dusty whisper.

"I am Mimura."

Kirishima nodded, regarding the newcomer with a glance.

"I am Kirishima, and this is Kiriyama."

Mimura nodded as Kiriyama strode forward, extending his hand.

"I am glad; Comrade Mimura, the three of us will ride out against this Plague, and strike him down for the beauty of the world."

Mimura seemed to stare at the young man, confused, and then grunt in agreement, shaking his Kiriyama's delicate pale hand with his own callused monster; with an apparently strong grip, since Kiriyama let a wince appear on his face, if only for a second or two.

And then finally, silence pervaded the three men as they simple sat down on the stone bench behind them, silent buildings all around, their gray coats flapping in the cool wind.

Tokyo 3, Japan

Rei's Apartment

Shinji Ikari let out a strangling scream; oddly like the one he had given charging at the last angel, except this time, his weapon was definitely not a precision knife.

He stared at Rei Ayanami, and then coughed, averting his eyes and placing a hand over his blushing face as she crept down silently, nude, picking up the glasses that he had dropped, which were apparently his father's.

"I…I'm sorry….Uh…um…Uh…I…Oh!"

Shinji seemed to continue to stutter and blather on meaningless noises as Rei picked up the glasses, examining them calmly, as if she had not noticed them.

The Third Child tried to keep his eyes from drifting to her cool, pale skin. It was as white as porcelain, and seemed like it would be soft and delicate to his touch, soft and delicate…

Argh! I've got to get these thoughts out of my mind! I'm not a pervert, dammit!

Pitifully but understandably unable to wrench the pale image of Rei Ayanami out of his mind, frankly because she was kneeling before him naked, he made a mad dash towards the direction he remembered, dazed, that the door had been, to rescue himself from the room pounding with teenage hormones, his teenage hormones. For her part, Rei hadn't even flinched as she stood up, just in time to accidentally trip the blindly escaping boy, her pale slender leg crashing against his clothed in black.

He winced, not because of the slight pain, but because he suddenly realized in that flash of a second as his eyes beheld the tiled floor rushing towards him, that his escape had been denied by the cruel fates.

Shinji Ikari blinked, groaning and opening his eyes, staring down directly into Rei Ayanami's red eyes. She stared back at him passively, apparently not extremely discomforted by the fact that the Third Child was now lying straddled atop her naked body.

So soft…and warm…

The same thoughts would've been going through Rei Ayanami's mind at the physical contact, but they were shut down quite quickly by the gray void of her psyche.

Shinji moved his head closer to hers; curiously, his mind slowed down and clouded by the mutual body heat and warmth of the moment itself. His lips trembled as he moved closer to her face, and although Rei's face was blank, she could indeed feel an odd warmness within her body.

Suddenly Shinji Ikari looked down at his left hand as it shook in its grasp, and noticed that it was clutching one of Rei's ample breasts.

He would've kissed her if it hadn't been for that sight, that sublimely beautiful sight, jolting him back into the reality of shame and embarrassment.

He sprang backwards, leaving Rei lying on the floor, and averted his eyes, his cheeks red.

"Ah…I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to…"

Rei simply bent her back, sitting up and then finally standing, her eyes shut.

"What can I do for you?"

"Nothing, nothing…Just four glasses of coffee please…"

The young waitress stared at the bald man and his companions as they took a seat in a table in the corner, wondering who the fourth glass of coffee was for.

Kiriyama sighed.

"Ah, to drink coffee on the dawn of such an operation! How unromantic! Couldn't we have ordered a nice merlot, perhaps? Fine wine is alike to the smooth lips of a temptress."

Mimura remained silent, staring at his fine black boots while Kirishima shook his head, leaning towards Kiriyama.

"There is no need for romance in this, comrade. Death has no romance, there is no need for your poetic beauty here."

Kiriyama seemed to take it all in stride, shaking his finger at the older bald man.

"Ah, but you forget that God chooses our time, God sends us to Death, and all His Works are beautiful. That is the base of this entire Cause."

Kirishima turned, apparently tired of the young man's speech, eying the silent Mimura.

"So, tell me. Why did you join the Cause?"

Mimura lifted his head and locked eyes with Kirishima, speaking in a flat tone.

"They killed the love of my life."

"Hmm?"

"During the Evangelion Unit's fight with the Second Messen-"

Kiriyama suddenly emphatically interrupted the gruff man's somber speech with a wag of his finger and of his tongue.

"You mean the monster's attack on the Fourth Messenger. Technically, you know."

Kirishima eyed the young man warily, admonishing him with his eyes, although Mimura was apparently not bothered, continuing on.

"During the battle, it crushed an office building, making it collapse completely. The press wrote it off as another terrorist attack, but I know what happened. My wife was in that building, along with my son, who we never did get the chance to see."

Kirishima seemed to ponder this, although a yawn seemed to signify he frankly had heard such stories of misery before, or perhaps even lived them. His face was creased with lines, deep into his skin, forever implanted in his body, perhaps significant of memories forever implanted in his mind. He let his eyes wander around the café, the other two men silent, until the waitress finally arrived with their cups of coffee.

She stared at the men warily, suspicious of them all, even the handsome, youngest man who was smiling charmingly at her.

At me?

Suddenly she realized her gazes were not director at her and the coffee, but at something distinctly behind her.

She almost gasped as she felt the presence of another human being behind her, having made it so far without her really noticing.

He passed by her, a slender man of medium height with a determined look on his face and a fine black coat, a contrast to the identical gray trench coats the other three men wore. He seemed quite young, perhaps a bit older than Kiriyama, but the characteristic thought lines of a scholar or student in his forehead made him look older and more intense.

He seemed not to notice her, taking the empty seat beside the three other men at the table and eying his coffee silently as she placed the four mugs on the table. The three other men were oddly silent, not acknowledging his coming or even greeting him.

Finally when the waitress had left, with a collected face and a raised eyebrow, Kirishima turned to the newcomer while Kiriyama rubbed his hands eagerly. Mimura remained with his eyes to his boots, once more, silent.

Finally Kirishima spoke; his voice calm and collected.

"So, you're the final piece of the puzzle, eh Morimoto?"

Morimoto simply nodded, rubbing the back of his head as he peered at his coffee.

"Indeed, I recently graduated, so I've had more time to help the…fight."

The older bald man raised an eyebrow.

The fight? But not The Cause?

Kiriyama stared at the other young man at the table with eager eyes.

"So…you're a college graduate huh? I bet Tokyo 3 U, eh? You look like a smart one."

Kiriyama seemed to be speaking in a slightly patronizing tone, but his voice was so smooth and eager that it seemed not to bother Morimoto, who simply nodded sheepishly.

Kirishima simply sighed, extending his hand to Morimoto's and shaking it.

"Well, welcome to the fight, comrade. "

Morimoto looked up suddenly, his eyes intent.

"So…when do we-"

Kirishima raised a hand, silencing him.

"No…we must wait for him first…Then we must study our victim, find out his schedule, where he is, what he's like. Then we can have him."

Kiriyama sighed, a whining indignant sound, but then raised his mug of coffee in a toast, an odd gesture.

"That doesn't sound romantic at all…However I suppose it can be excused, all's fair in love and life! Let us fight the good fight!"

Shinji Ikari sighed as he stared out into the cool night, his face emotionless, Rei Ayanami resting on a platform a few feet to his left.

They sat there, silently, high in the cool night sky, until the silence was broken by a simple sigh.

"Fighting again…I can't believe it…I guess we may be dead soon…"

Rei stared forward, not looking in his direction, but speaking, to his surprise, her voice soft and distant as always.

"Why?"

Shinji sighed, shaking his head.

"How can you be so calm? You've been put through so much danger already. ..Why-Why do you pilot it?"

"Because…it's my link."

"To…my dad?"

"Are you scared of yours?"

Shinji stopped following the First Child, pausing and then closing his eyes.

"Yes…"

He opened his eyes, sighing as he continued following her.

"I think it's stranger not to be scared."

She spoke, her back still to him.

"Can't you have faith in your father's work?"

Shinji stopped, staring off at her back, his eyes unfocused.

"No. There's no way I can…not in a father like him…"

Suddenly Rei halted her stride as well, turning to Shinji, almost startling him with her odd expression, almost like a docile smile.

"I do. I have faith in him. The only thing in this world I have faith in is the commander."

And with that, she had turned and left the shocked boy, his fists clenching and unclenching.

"I…have nothing else. It's like I was born to pilot an Evangelion. If I stopped being a pilot, I would have nothing left…That's the same as being dead."

Shinji seemed to smile sadly as Rei glanced at him, then turned away once more.

"The same as being dead, huh? Well, then…I guess I was like that before I came here…I hated everything. I was totally apathetic. I just didn't care. But I put up a quiet front, playing the good kid."

Why? Why am I telling Ayanami this?

"I guess maybe I was just going through the motions of living. Nothing more."

Because we're in the same situation? No. Maybe it's because…Ayanami has even less than I do. I don't know how, but it feels that way.

Rei stared at the clock imprinted on the glove of her plugsuit, shutting her eyes, and standing.

"Let's go."

Shinji looked up with a sigh.

I guess she wasn't really listening…

"Hm? Oh. Sure…"

Suddenly Rei Ayanami stopped her stride and surprised Shinji Ikari for what seemed like the thousandth time that day.

She closed her eyes and then slowly opened them as she stared back at him, her crimson orbs glimmering in the pale moonlight.

"Ikari?"

"What?"

She began entering her entry plug as she delivered the last words, staring at him for a while more.

"You won't die. I'll protect you. Goodbye."

Shinji Ikari stood there, alone in his plug suit, on the eve of a great battle. But oddly enough, he no longer felt alone, he felt safe.

Well? Weird? Cool? Go ahead and review it…This will be maybe like a ten chapter fanfic…Nothing of Madness proportions…But it'll be cool…If this first chapter confused you, just be patient…see you later next chapter!