Shinji ...
We ... we lost it ...
We lost her ...
No. That was wrong.
I lost her ...
Screaming, a baby was screaming, but there really wasn't any screaming. There really wasn't any baby to scream.
I'm screaming.
Only I'm not. I want to, but I can't.
--
The blood reminded me of the last time I'd piloted an Eva—and there was a lot of blood. And the last time I'd piloted an Eva reminded me of a lot of things. Of the hope, that blinding epiphany that had made everything seem real and right and bearable again.
Mother had always been with me—
Blood reminded me of the dumb white faces, their teeth agape as I pushed to beat them, beat the time I was running out of. To kill them.
Mother had always loved me—
Those fleeting few minutes were really nothing but a blur of ecstasy in my memory, the heady sensation of beating down fear, even for a few fleeting minutes. Even the fear of my progressive knife breaking, of the Eva I'd been chasing turning around with the lance it had been retrieving and stabbing my Eva's shoulder. It hadn't been a serious injury, but it had been enough to color my determination into hysteria.
Just a little longer. Shinji is coming, Misato said Shinji would be here. But part of me hadn't believed that. Part of me hadn't wanted Shinji to come anyway. I'd wanted to handle it on my own. I'd felt like I could do anything as long as mother was with me.
And Shinji hadn't come.
All the blood that came out of me now where there should've been a healthy, screaming human being brought back that one particular moment—when I had been grappling with the last Eva—one of the last Evas. When the blood had also came, but it wasn't enough, and no matter how hard I'd fought I couldn't beat it down as fast as I needed to.
I don't remember screaming it, screaming at it, but it seems like I did.
Push—
"MOT-HER—"
—harder—
"FUCKER!"
But mother had always loved me after all ...
--
Shinji says it. Everyone says it.
It's not your fault.
But I had studied everything. All the books, all the advice, even all the stupid stuff. The stuff that I'd known didn't matter. I had done everything that I was supposed to do and in the end it hadn't mattered at all.
There will both others, Asuka. There will be others.
So there had to be something else wrong, wrong with me. If modern medicine couldn't help at all, then it had to be something wrong with me. Mein Gott, it's 2026, not 1826.
Don't worry, it's not your fault, Asuka.
But they were lying. All of them. Shinji especially. He had promised, we had both promised to always tell each other the truth. But he wasn't now, and I hated it—I hated him for it.
--
There was one particular moment during Instrumentality that I remember. Or maybe it was just before. I guess it doesn't matter.
I had been remembering one time before everything with Nerv and the team had went bad, one time when Shinji and I had been walking to school together. It wasn't an important instance. It hadn't even really been that unusual, but I'd always remembered it.
My projection of Shinji had said something to me, in a low but warm tone. Something that hadn't actually happened in reality, something he hadn't actually said.
My consciousness had stopped and looked at him. "But that's not what you said." My tone had been flat.
The Shinji that I was talking to had looked at me in a way that he hadn't when this memory had actually taken place. When he'd had the chance. "But that's what you wanted me to say."
My consciousness had screamed.
"Why didn't you say it?" Screamed and rushed at him and—
--
It's not your fault, Asuka.
But it was, and now it was a handful of days I'd lost track of after the hospital and the blood. Shinji was in the same room I was in, and he wasn't. His back was turned to me, and my eyes couldn't find anywhere else to be.
I didn't need him.
My hands were involuntarily clenching and unclenching.
Whenever things got hard he did this. Whenever he thought something was wrong with himself he abandoned me.
But he was the idiot. An absolute idiot, because it was me that was wrong. It was me that had done this. And I knew why.
Breathing was getting harder. Shinji's back didn't seem to notice.
I had asked for this. More than once. Repeatedly, insistently. I had swore I'd never have children. At first because I never thought I would want any. And then because it was a way to try to keep stupid Shinji and his stupid hopes with me away. And then because I'd realized that I could never be a mother, I could never be entrusted with something like that.
There was a loud bang that split through the room's stillness. The bottom of my fists resting on the table throbbed.
Shinji turned and stared at me.
I'd swore I'd never have children. Vehemently. Honestly.
Why couldn't everyone just be honest that this was my fault? Why couldn't he?
Shinji saw my expression, whatever it was. And he looked down at his hands.
I didn't need him. I never had. He was absolutely worthless. He didn't do anything. I wouldn't want or need his pathetic help even if he had any to give.
So I was standing up from the table, looking away from him as I felt my pulse trying to choke me, threaten to overwhelm me. I was walking towards the sink, but one of my hands found the glass that had been on the table. The crash it made against the wall didn't drown out the scream, my scream. Didn't drown out that it was my fault, and that there was something inside of me that hadn't died yet. It hadn't died with the baby—it couldn't have, because it was still dying.
And I was still screaming. Screaming so loud that it felt like my throat was being torn to pieces.
And Shinji was slowly walking out of the room.
It wasn't fair. This world we had created wasn't perfect, would never be anywhere near perfect. But it had been good enough to come back to, hadn't it? Wasn't there enough good in it? Even just enough to let something so small live? Something so small and fragile and precious?
I'd sworn as honestly as I could I would never have children. But that was before. And now I had been swearing, just as honestly, even more fervently that I would make a good mother. I didn't know how, and it scared me so much, but I would do it. I would do everything that it took, and there was Shinji. Shinji would be there with me.
He was nearly out of the room—
—And I needed him. Needed him so badly that it was hard to remember why he would want me. Why he would ever want to help me.
Please just touch me, just look at me again—
He had done this to me so many times, left me when I needed him—
—but not always. He had been there before. He had stayed. Said that he loved me, that I was special. He had said that he trusted me, even after everything I'd done to him. Everything we'd done to each other.
But he couldn't trust me, couldn't even trust me to keep his baby alive.
I'm alone, I'm alone, please don't leave me alone—
I felt something like the kitchen floor underneath me. My hands felt something cold like the floor's tile and the sounds were changing.
But he didn't have to do this. He didn't have to leave me alone—
He stopped at the end of where I could see him, just inside the hall.
We didn't have to do this again.
He was staring down at his hands, clenching and unclenching. Now that my sounds had died down, I could hear his.
We could help each other, even if I didn't deserve it—
We could—
We could.
--
AN: Thanks for reading. Sorry if there are any mistakes, I've only seen the series through once.