Author's Notes: Vacation. Boredom. A strange holiday obsession (with Evangelion). Added together, means fic. Happy reading! (It's a bit confusing…) Some of the scenes are from the acualy anime/manga itself (and I tweaked it a bit in places).
Disclaimer: Neon Genesis Evangelion does not belong to me, but I have the owners' permission to play with the characters, yes? I'll take care of them. (cue – evil laugh)
Some of the quotes do not belong to me either… I am merely borrowing them for my evil pleasure.
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~ d o l l ~
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part I
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When does a story start?
We do not know.
One says, it's when the problems arise. Another argues, it's the moment just before the problem starts, like the calm before a storm. Yet another explains it's when the objects of the problem are born, much, much earlier on.
One does not truly know.
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intro-
She stares at herself in the mirror, young eyes blinking, looking at her own four-year-old reflection of herself.
She reaches out a hand, and touches the mirror, staring at her reflection all the time.
Her red eyes stared back, her blue hair fluttered in the breeze.
Why am I so… different? she thinks to herself.
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i. For what is the heart when there are no emotions? For what are expressions when the face has been frozen?
A doll. It's a meaningless doll..-
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"ONCE…"
she says as she runs her long pale fingers across the length of the stalk of the hyacinth flower she was holding.
"Once…" Rei begins again. "I thought the world was a beautiful place."
(He looks up at her.
Unknown, unspoken words pass through them.
He cocks his head to the side, urging her to go on.-)
"And why wouldn't I?" she says as if in answer to her statement. "I didn't know about the Angels, about the Evangelion series, about my purposes in life. I had Commander Ikari. Dr. Akagi Naoko, Ritsuko…
(Everyone at Nerv, they were like family for me.-)
"I think, for once, I was happy."
(Key word – was
Happy? How naïve I was, she thinks.-
But why am I telling him this?)
"And you're not happy now?" Shinji asks, just for the sake of it, as he already knows the answer to the question he's asking.
"Do I seem happy?" she responds, raising her emotionless cerise eyes to meet his hazel brown ones.
"It's… hard to say, actually. You always… keep such a straight face. A poker face. No one really knows what you're thinking, you know."
"I guess." A flicker of a smile crossed her face.
(That is what I have wanted. That has been my aim.-
That has been my… life.
It's always been like this…)
Conversation halts.
Then he asks, "Don't you get tired of it?"
"Of what?-" she says, confused. Of course, she might not actually be confused. She has always been good at hiding her emotions.-
(-Of being a puppet, being a doll.
Obeying every order you receive.-
He does not say these words however-)
"Of following all of Nerv's commands," he says instead, knowing that this is the truth, as far as he knew.
(He does not know anything.
Yet he does not know that.
He believes he isn't in the dark-)
"Why shouldn't I?" she says. Blank face, no emotion visible.
"You're not a puppet! You're a person!"
(Harsh words, yet spoken for her own good.
Was it? Was it not?
She didn't know, or understand.)
"I'm a person, yes," she explains as if it was the most obvious thing. (Which wasn't that obvious, but she doesn't elaborate.) "But I'm a person who follows the orders of other people."
"Doesn't it bother you?" he asks.
"No," she answers simply, and turns away.
And they thought that was the end of that.
(She was still holding the hyacinth flower… the flower for sorrow. Her fingers clutch it, not letting go.)
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ii. We say that a girl with her doll anticipates the mother.
It is more true, perhaps, that most mothers are still but children with playthings.
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SHE had always hated dolls.
She had a plain revulsion to them, ever since her mother had cared for a doll instead of her.
It was fuelled by that fact that the First Child was, in her eyes, nothing more than a doll, a puppet for Nerv to manipulate.
(And she hated it.
She hated not being the favourite.
She hated it when someone else was-)
It was unfair, ironic – she had lost her only parent to Gehirn, yet now she was a pilot for Nerv, the organisation in place of it.
It didn't help that the First Child was so seemingly oblivious to her pains, instead showing no expression at all.
Was she mocking her?!
She hated the fact that the First was so close to Shinji.
(She didn't know why, though.)
She hated the perfect First Child, who never has a hair out of place-
(not literally speaking – beside the fact that even if she did, her hair would still be perfect)
- who is the favourite of the commander, who is obedient and wouldn't let emotions get the better of her…
… who always has to be a doll, a puppet to the wishes of Nerv.
It annoyed her, but it also scared her too.
Would she end up like that?
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iii. Dolls reminds you of the superficial people that human beings were, going for looks, never seeing someone for who they really are.
Dolls were perfect, their skin so fair, hair so perfect. Their eyes so surreal that they pierced right into you, stealing your heart without you realising it.
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HER expression never changes. Her face is like a mask, hiding her true emotions within, deep within her heart, where they can never resurface properly.
He wonders how she does it.
He wonders if she had emotions, as well. He wonders how she showed them.
He wonders.
(What was that expression?-
-Curiosity killed the cat...
Was that not right?)
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iv. A little child has a beautiful doll. The child loves the doll, but then wants to break the doll to see what's inside. We are the same.
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ONE day, he decided to find out whether she- (the girl with the ruby-red eyes, with hair the colour of the sky of a calm fine day) -had expressions, had feelings.
He made a decision.
He drew the other girl- (with the fiery reddish brown hair, and eyes the colour of the deep shimmering ocean) -into a hug, and surprised that she hadn't pulled away, leant down.
Their lips connected in a swift motion.
He glanced back at the girl, the girl whose short cerulean hair fluttered in the breeze so prettily-
- the girl who had truly stolen his heart without realising it.
(The girl who should have been in his arms instead.)
She blinked at him, then stood up and walked out.
He didn't miss the tear the leaked out of her tightly shut eyes, the glittering tear that seemed so out of place from her otherwise-emotionless face.
The tear dropped down like a raindrop, onto the ground, where it sparkled for a moment before disappearing.
The girl (the owner of the tear) had already disappeared long ago.
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v. She had faded from neglect, being lonely through the years… and she couldn't even cry, because she hadn't any tears
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SHE didn't know where she was going, and she didn't care. Anywhere is good enough, anywhere but where she was before.
She's just second, isn't she? Second to Yui Ikari, in the eyes of Commander Ikari. Second to Asuka Langley Soryu, Second Child, in the eyes of Shinji Ikari. She's also second as an Eva pilot – she wasn't the best, was she now?
She was just a puppet. Doll. She didn't need replacements, she was the replacement.
Did they really need her? Did anyone really need her?
No.
She walks around aimlessly, before unconsciously arriving at the little garden in the headquarters of Nerv, that Shinji had shown her after he was 'reborn' from Eva Unit-01. She hasn't been here a long time, she thinks to herself.
The first time we touched…I didn't feel anything.
Huh?
Your hand.
The first… that time?
The second time… it felt a little queasy. I think.
Ah… about that… I'm sorry…
The third time… I felt warm inside. It was the heat from your hand. Even through the suit.
But the fourth time, I was just happy. Happy that you were concerned about me.
(She looks back at him, gives an expression so much like a smile, so not.)
Could I… hold your hand again?
She shakes her head furiously as unwanted memories swirl around her head. Before she knew it, another teardrop fell-
(she thought that her tears had long dried up inside of her, yet...)
- into the pool, the pool which she had run her fingers through that first time she had been here.
The water rippled, perfect circles resonating, heading away from the centre, from the tear that created them.
This is me. People stay away from me. She thinks to herself. Because I'm just a doll.
Dolls don't have the ability to cry.
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And so the first part ends. But have this story ended?
A story does not end. Not yet.
There is still a long way to go, a long winding path until there is no more forest obscuring the view, a long long way until you see the silver clouds and witness the majestic gates of paradise.
This story, however, it had started many, many years ago, long before it was even known there was a story; and so it makes it difficult to say when, exactly, it did start, and, likewise, no one can really say when it ends.
For now, let's pause it here.
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.TBC.
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