Author's Notes: Originally, this was to be a songfic, but apparently, songfics aren't permitted, so the next best thing to having the lyrics here in the content, would be having someone listen to the song while reading it: the song is: "Don't Go Away", by the band "Oasis". Speaking of music, the title of this fiction is a play on the song "Komm, Susser Tod/Come, Sweet Death" from Evangelion.
Warnings/Misc.: Possible Out Of Character behavior, since this is about four of the characters as older men and women; oh, my goodness, I think I just wrote semi-canon; someone, take said cannon, and threaten me with it possibly hitting me (not the cannon ball, but the cannon itself). Please excuse the horrible cannon/canon pun-I'm bad like that. Additionally, if you spot an error in format, please alert me via messaging, not a review; thank you!
Come, Sweet Life
I wake up to the scent of warm chocolate, the aroma wafting in from the kitchen to entice me to enter the conscious world. Not yet ready, I shift to the right, nuzzling into the other side of the pillow, into warmth, more, thanks, consequently getting half a face full of my own hair, even though I know I got it trimmed recently. Blowing the few auburn strands away from my face, I remain in bed, eyes closed, what had I dreamed about? I frown into the pillow; this isn't how it's supposed to be; stupid memory, or lack of it, I don't know... hmph; idiotin.
Sighing again, no, I'm not admitting defeat, I'm just getting up, I push the blue flower and striped comforter of the futon away, around my waist, poking and fumbling around with my fingers for my slippers-no, not there, jeez, where'd I leave 'em...? Not there, either, mmph... It feels like there's dust here... when was the last time we cleaned...? Eh, what is that?! I feel my hand recoil, flexing the muscles in my fingers as they curl, like the English sign language letter for "E". Who left a bowl of instant ramen here? Shaking the nearly frozen-over broth from my fingertips, quick little drops falling from my hands, I suppose (still haven't pried my own eyelids open, here), I drag the back of my hand across the floor, attempting to dry it. Eh? This time, not in slightly mortified disgust, but surprise; I find fuzz, and the well-worn indentation of several months' long wear, of shuffling about in the early morning or late evening.
"Are you up, yet?" A voice calls-curious, light, amused, even-and I remember, yeah, still here, a slight tensing of my muscles, breath catching in the back of my throat-though, I'd never admit that to him, of course.
It's only as I recall how to work my lungs that I realize something else: how cold it is, and me just pushing my slippers onto my feet, of course it'd be cold, I think, in a self-mocking tone, it's just a few more days until December, after all-are you stupid?
"Don't talk to yourself like that," he'd told me once, early on in the "arrangement"-that's what I used to call it, back then: The Arrangement. "You'll start believing it, after a while." He'd smiled then, when such an act was rare, was a chore, even, to get out of him; a real smile, not one fueled by guilt, or a 'well, what can you do?' smile. Rare, reality. I force myself to stand on my own two feet, a small, self-depreciating smile hugging my lips as my mind lingers on that memory, trying to preserve, as it always did, the tone he'd used, how I'd really been feeling that day, what we'd been talking about before the verbal boost of, of... confidence I'd received from him; some of the shallow things, too, surface to the front as I fold up the futon, tucking it away: I'd thought he'd spent too long at the store-I'd been busy at the school, so, how could I have judged time, myself? I'd been so sure then, when it was still important to get the last, defeating word in, but now, it's so... I don't know-trivial, considering what he does for a living, after all.
Space Cowboy, that's what I used to call him; I don't remember where-or when-exactly, I picked up that term. I'd laugh at him-never with him, since his laugh seemed so weak, killed before it even knows life-whenever I used it, teasing, as I always did, when he went off to training... and to see her.
"So, Space Cowboy's returned," I said, sarcastically, standing up from the small couch. He pulled off his shoes, slipping them into the shelves near the door, smiling a little at me. "Aren't you going to say anything?" I asked him, hands on hips, how dare he leave me alone for so long, waiting for his-probably pathetic-excuse. "Well?"
"I saw Rei today," he said, a neutral expression on his face. "At work. She looks better than last week." ' ...Not that you'd know,' I'm sure he was thinking.
Of course; he visited her every day, and last week, he'd called my classroom from the
headquarters, sounding enthusiastic for the first time in months since our arrangement.
"You have to come," he'd said, "she's opened her eyes, finally, and I think, soon, she'll be talking again."
"I'm busy," I said, but really, I lied to him; it was just a short assignment, with some late papers in the mix to grade, and it was a weekend, my students wouldn't miss them by any means... well, maybe one or two, they tried so hard... but that was beside the point. "And besides," I said, "I'm here and alive. I'll still be that way when you get back."
"Fine," he said, his voice similar to my brittle, cold tone, only not as indignant. "I'll see you when I get home."
Click, and a long series of buzzes.
Now, a week later from that incident-you'd think wonder girl's god incarnate, the way he
spends so much time at work-I'm waiting, done with grading those papers. I'm just glancing at my diploma for teaching, hung haphazardly next to the one I received at fourteen, when he starts to speak again, walking into the main room.
"I saw Rei again today, she looks better than last week-"
I don't hear anything after that, just a dull noise, sounds like talking, but it's not. Funny
how, in his native language, "Rei" is one of the words that mean "zero", yet, he speaks about her as if she's an angel-what sort of angel'd be bedridden at this time, anyway?
"You remind me of your father," I say softly, as if it makes no difference who he resembles with his work ethic. I don't hear anything, even the buzz I've come to call his talking.
"I..." he says, after a moment, "I guess... you're right." He turns to face me, I see, from the corner of my eye. Smiling again; he looks so pathetic like that, with a meaningless expression on his face.
I notice my arms are shaking a bit, how am I right, anyway?
"Idiots," I mutter, feeling something on my face, wet, like rain, and heat is making its way around my form. "We're both..." I clench my hands into fists, nails I've been absently picking at, so they're jagged, pressing into my palms; will I start bleeding from that, if I press hard enough?
"Don't talk to yourself like that, Sohryu," he says, hesitant, shuffling footsteps toward me. "You'll start to believe it after a while." His hand reaches up, brushes the liquid away from my face, my eyes, and he smiles as he tilts his head.
I know he's just been making the best of a situation, but... I can't... I can't help it. More
liquid from my eyes, bittersweet and just nearly as comforting as the arms he's placed around me, letting this warmth of his shirt envelope me, supporting my hands in a search for something to hold on to. "It's Asuka," I mutter, though, from the way his arms tighten around me, I know he heard; is he smiling? "Ikari...Shinji...call me that from now on: 'Asuka' ...please."
"Sorry about the ramen," he says, grinning in a self-depreciating, apologetic way,though, it doesn't make me as angry as it used to. I say nothing for the moment, leaning against the counter; the incident with the bowl of ramen wasn't quite enough to wake me. "Here," he says, a warm cup of coffee, or maybe hot chocolate, is held out to me, the steam tickling my nose-oh, okay, it's hot chocolate-"enjoy."
I think I murmur a "Thanks," to him, and huddle myself over the warm, porcelain mug, blowing gently into the liquid, watching as the half-melted miniature marshmallows swirl languidly around, and the heat caresses my face, while the scent seduces my nose, and I sip at it,
remembering the first time either of us tried being domestic...
"Remember the last time we tried to make this, about a year ago?"
I look up, a half-smile on my face. "Yeah. It burned my tongue so badly, I thought I'd have to hook myself up to an intravenous drip."
He laughs. "Same here." He glances at the small calendar magnetically attached to the refrigerator, tilting his head to see. "Hey, your birthday's coming up."
"Yeah."
"Anything you want?"
"I..." Wait. I check the calendar, grabbing it, the magnet popping off, clattering to the floor. "What about your launch? It was supposed to start..." today. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
"Your birthday's coming up in about a week or so," he says by way of explanation. "Is there anything you'd like to do?"
Anything I'd like to do? "Yes," I say after a moment, "there is."
I hold the small bouquets of flowers, one from him, the other for her. Hastily, I fill out a card, the occasional stops, bumps, and other impediments of driving causing my handwriting to appear more than a little illegible.
"Thank you," he says, glancing over at me.
"I'm not doing this for you," I say lightly. "It's my birthday, after all."
"I know, but still," he says, patting my shoulder, "I want to thank you... for coming to visit her with me."
"Welcome," I say, attempting to lick the sealing edge of the envelope.
"Miss Ayanami? You have some visitors," I hear the nurse murmur to the girl on the other side of the door.
"Shin...ji?" Weak syllables, threaded-lace thin voice.
"Is she alright...?" I ask the nurse skeptically.
"Yes, she's just a bit tired from the operation, that's all," says the nurse, ushering us into the hospital room.
"'Operation'?" I ask Shinji, curiosity curling around my mind.
"She was hurt, earlier-she was ran into by a car," he says, at my arched eyebrow, "and, later, she decided to get an additional operation..." he reddens a bit, why? "about... eleven months ago."
What did he mean, 'operation'? Why's he blushing?
"Shinji..." her voice reached his and my ears. "Asuka... hello."
"Hey, there, Rei," I murmur, sitting on one of the provided folding chairs. "You okay?" What a stupid question; she's almost covered in bandages, head to toe.
"Yes... thank you for asking, yoursel-" she's interrupted by herself, coughing fit overtaking, shaking, her frame.
"We're okay," Shinji says, handing a cup of water to Rei. "Why don't you tell Asuka the good news?"
She looks at us, a very slight curve of her lips resembling a smile as she opens her mouth, when the door opens again, and all three of our heads turn to face the interrupting individual.
"Miss Ayanami," the nurse from before says, a bundle occupying her arms. "She's beautiful," the nurse hands the bundle gingerly to Rei. "He, though, should be here soon; he's only in shock." the nurse laughs a bit.
"'He'?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at Rei and Shinji.
"Funny," Shinji murmurs, "I never imagined him to be squeamish about this sort of stuff."
"Who are you talking about?" I ask, my impatience and curiosity getting to me.
"Sorry about that, Rei," a gentle voice comes from behind the door the nurse has just entered.
"W-what's he doing here?" I ask, pointing to the young, white-haired, red-eyed man behind us.
"Asuka, Shinji, good to see you both." Kaworu says, a small grin forming on his face as he takes a seat on Rei's hospital bed. "As well as you, Rei," he laughs lightly at this last sentence.
"You, as well."Rei murmurs, her voice directed at Kaworu, but her eyes on the small, now-cooing, bundle in her arms.
"Wait a moment," I whisper to Shinji, "Wonder Gir-er, Rei, and Kaworu are...?"
"Married, yes, Asuka," Kaworu informs, another small smile hugs his face, "not unlike you two. We're parents, now, too."
"Well, er, congrats, I guess-I mean, of course..." I stammer, still a bit flustered at Kaworu's noticing my side conversation.
"What about you two, though? No children, yet, I take it?" Kaworu asks, distant, probing gently, but genially, his words making Shinji and I flush at the same time.
"No, uh, not yet," Shinji says, coughing a bit into his hand and wiping it on his jeans.
"Any plans, though?" He asks, though, before we can stammer out an embarrassed 'no', the nurse pops back in, placing a piece of paper in Kaworu's hand.
"At your quickest convenience, please," she says, disappearing as easily as she had shown up.
"Birth Certificate?" Shinji asks as Kaworu and Rei look at the rectangle of paper.
They nod, Kaworu searching for a pen.
"Here," I say, handing them the pen I used earlier, placing the card and miniature bouquet on the night stand.
"Thank you, Sohryu," Kaworu murmurs, another small smile on his face as he clicks the pen's nib out. "What do you think, Rei? What should we name her?"
She lifts her lips up to his ear, and as she murmurs something I can't quite hear, except for a slight "o" her mouth makes in the middle; Kaworu's glance flickers over to my face, evident shock and amusement making his eyebrows and lips curve upward.
"Sukii it is, then," he murmurs, smiling up at us. "That's alright, that we name her for you two?"
"S-sure, I guess," Shinji says, blushing a bit, his hand resting a bit behind his head.
"Why not?" I reply, feeling a smirk wander up my face.
"Again, thank you," Rei says quietly, her fingers grasping the pen from Kaworu's hand, and swiftly writing characters on the certificate.
"Nice," he remarks gently, looking at the child, pulling back the blanket covering her head, revealing pale white skin, with a whisper of hair, blue-white, across her head. "Hey, there, Sukii," he says, his voice waking her, and her eyelids flutter open, showing a bright, just-born blue, gaze upon the world.
As all four of us leave the hospital, Shinji hangs back, holding my shoulder lightly.
"What is it, Shinji?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. Before I realize it, his hand rises, and slides down from my left temple to the corner of my mouth, curving to cup my cheek for just a second.
"Thank you, again, Asuka... for coming with me," he says softly, moving the hand to mine, lacing his fingers with mine, smiling again.
"You're welcome, again," I murmur, resting my head on his shoulder as we rejoin Rei and Kaworu.