A/N: This is the sequel to my post third impact story Breathing Room. I said there would probably be no sequel, but I was wrong. Inspiration hit. You don't have to read Breathing Room to understand this one, but it sure doesn't hurt. However, those of you who read Breathing Room don't expect the stories to have the exact same feel. This story is told in third person and it's not all about Asuka and Shinji, even if they play a major role. With all of that out of the way I hope you enjoy.
Bar None
It started off slow. Two children paved the way. It wasn't anything elaborate they established, yet they found a way to survive. They lived in a tent and existed off of a diet of canned food. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Later their efforts were aided by a woman of great ingenuity. Some call her the mother of modern society. Others call her an overbearing, work-obsessed maniac. But those who know her best refer to her as a terrible slob and a helpless alcoholic.
It was because of this woman that life exists as the people of New Okinawa know it. She was the first person after the impact to try to do anything on a large scale. When people first started to arrive from that accursed sea, she was the one who they would always turn to. She organized what history noted as the First Great Beach Occupation. This was the first organized movement towards recreating society. At the time no one in Okinawa knew that there were several other such organizations sprinkled throughout the globe, but none of them were quite as effective. It was a system in which large masses of people could survive together on a small beach without killing each other. Several committees where set up in order to run this large operation.
The first of these groups was the Identification and Registration Committee. Their job was to ask new returnees for their names, ages, former occupation, and any unique talents and skills they had. Many people joke about this committee's similarity to a job application. The next committee was the Health and Hygiene committee (nicknamed the "Clean-up Crew"). Their task was to help all of the new returnees freshen up from their leave of absence. After swimming in LCL for who-knows-how-long (Months? Years? Decades?) it was no surprise that people would come out more than a little bit smelly. It was also the responsibility of this committee to look after those who were injured before or after the impact. The Family and Friend Location Committee was in charge of reuniting those that had been separated during the impact (in short, everybody). This group worked closely with the Identification and Registration Committee for obvious reasons. Being a member of this group was the most coveted job in the whole organization because it had two advantages over all the others. The first advantage was that you would be the first to know when your friends or family members returned. The second was that it was just plain rewarding to see the joy of the reunited on a daily basis. It's impossible to be around such uncontrollable happiness and not be affected by it.
While there were many more committees, all of which served a vital purpose to man's survival, the most important of these was the City Rebuilding and Cultural Revival Committees (also referred to as the CRCs by many members of the Organization). These committees work closely together and have jurisdiction over all of the others. Their purpose is clear. It is the reconstruction of the city and the recreation of organized life as it once was. The afore mentioned woman was the head of both of these two committees and it was her work with them that had brought her public acclaim. She worked day and night to get the city to the state it was currently in. Blood was shed and tears were wept, but she never stopped her toils until the job was done. It was clear to all involved that she was a vital part of the process. Perhaps she was even the most vital part there was. That is why it was no surprise to anyone that one of the first buildings to become fully operational was the local bar. It is here that we find her on this night. It is here that Misato Katsuragi can be found every night, drinking the stress of the day away.
She is not alone in this nightly activity of hers. Far from it actually. The bar is full and there are conversations flowing far throughout the room. It is a large establishment, but somehow its vast inward congestion makes it feel small. Yes, the place is full, but it is a long ways from being rowdy. These people may be drunks, they may be flirts, and a very small percent of them may even be decent citizens, but no matter who they are they are all most assuredly civilized. This is not the type of place where everybody knows your name, but it is what Hemingway would call "A Clean Well-lighted Place". It is for that very reason that we find Misato here, talking to a man. His name is Takashi Mizuho and he is one of the first men to come out of the sea. He is also the first man in the new world that Misato truly despises.
"Rough day?" asks Takashi as Misato takes a seat next to him at the bar. By looking at the woman anyone could tell she was beat.
"Aren't they all?" she replies without missing a tick. Misato is the type of woman who's at her best, even when she's at her worst. Some would argue that for this particular woman there's no difference between the two.
"I suppose so, when it comes to you. I myself like to take it easy. Enjoy life while I can. You never know when some great catastrophic event will come along and take it all from you."
"Hey Frank," she calls to the bartender who was busy washing out a glass. "What do you have to do around here to get a beer?"
Frank knows that she's just messing with him, but that doesn't stop him from hurrying along. In a matter of moments he has three cans of "the usual" laying on the bar counter with a glass of ice laying next to it. He knows she will not use the glass, but his mother always taught him that it was improper for a lady to drink from the can. He understands that the world doesn't work as his mother had said anymore, but he also feels that just maybe it should.
"There you go Miss Katsuragi," he said with a hint of admiration behind his voice. He knew quite well who he was talking to. He was graced with the presence of the greatest modern day celebrity in existence.
"Thanks Frank," she said warmly with a smile. She then proceeded to ignore the bartender as she diverted her attention to the delectable beverage set before her. Misato popped open the can and took a long chug that left the metal container half full. She lets out a satisfying "ahhh" and gets back to the business of talking to Takashi. After all he is the reason she's here every night. If it weren't for him she'd just stay home and drink… with the kids. If it weren't for the kids she wouldn't have to be here talking to him.
"You know, I still don't know how you do it Takashi. With all that's happened how can you live your life like that?"
"Live my life like what?"
"Like nothing really matters."
The man paused for a second and then cracked a decidedly lopsided smile.
"You're wrong of course."
"How?"
"You say I live my life as if nothing matters. But the reason I live my life the way I do is because nothing matters." Misato shook her head then took another long drink from her can.
"You honestly believed that, don't you?" Takashi just smiled. "What a sad old man you are."
"I'm only 42."
"That doesn't make you any less sad. You pathetic old cod."
"No need for name calling. It's not becoming of a person of your stature."
"Don't get me started on that. I'll be here for hours trying to talk myself out of suicide."
"Is it really that bad being well known?" The woman sighed.
"No I, guess it isn't. It just gets stressful from time to time. Anyways, I thought I told you not to get me started. I didn't know you were so desperate to change the subject."
"What were we talking about again?" he asked in mock ignorance.
"We were talking about why your lazy behind thinks that nothing is worth anything."
"I never said that nothing had worth. I just said that nothing mattered. There's a difference."
"How can nothing matter?" she asked frustrated. "We're helping people, fixing lives, rebuilding the world and you say none of that matters?"
"Of course it doesn't," said Takashi with a smirk. "Everything you're building will all be gone in a little while. You mark my words. If some meteor doesn't crash down on us and destroy everything then we'll get hit by a typhoon. And if we don't get hit by a typhoon then I'm sure it'll be Godzilla to do us in. And if it's not Godzilla then it'll be-"
"Alright I get the point already," said Misato quickly cutting him off. "But even if that were true, there's still the people to think about. Are you saying they're unimportant too?"
"The people, as you call them, are nothing more than refugees from a war they never even knew was happening. Unless I misunderstood what you had said over that public broadcast the other day. NERV or SEELE or whatever super powerful government organization used us all like we were pawns. No, less than pawns. We were like horses for the Calvary to ride on. So what does that say about the people? We're nothing."
To say Misato was angry with these words would be an understatement, but to say she didn't understand where the man was coming from would be a lie. Misato probably understood better than anyone in the whole city, Takashi included.
"How many have you had to drink tonight old man?"
"More than I care to tell."
"He's had about 6 martinis Miss Katsuragi," chimed in Frank. "The man should be wasted."
Let us not waste this rare opportunity to take a look into the enigma that is Frank, the bartender. Frank was also among the first people to arrive upon that desolate beach. While Frank was a relatively cooperative man, there was a little bit of trouble concerning his registration. Frank claimed to be an American. Born and raised. He says he lived in Kentucky on a farm with his father and mother. He seemed particularly proud of his accomplishments at his last job, which of course was a gig bartending at a fancy country club.
Frank was a liar. He had never held a bartending position in his life. Anyone with a watchful eye and half a brain could see that. In truth he is a mediocre barkeep who to this day needs to look at a recipe to make a Bloody Mary. He once applied to work the bar at Hooters, but sadly was rejected. But in the New World there are plenty of new opportunities and if nothing else Frank was an opportunist. Can you blame a simple man for a simple lie? Misato could. She never really liked Frank, not one bit. From the moment she met the man and started up a conversation she recognized him for what he was: a phony. Still she was always nice and polite. The man did have the beer and any smart diplomat knows that you do not bite the hand that feeds you. Still, it didn't please Misato in the least to find that he had been listening in on their privet conversation.
"Oh, I see now why Takashi here is speaking like a complete fool," she said with a pleasant smile. "I wonder what your excuse is, Frank?"
Not being the brightest man there ever was Frank replied, "I have no excuse ma'am. Thanks for noticing." He was quite happy to see that the great Misato Katsuragi had been worried about him. But after a moment or two he began to doubt her intentions. Was it possible that she had not truly been looking after his health? Frank didn't know. He decided it would be best to tend to some other costumers just in case. He didn't want to look like an idiot.
"You didn't have to humiliate the boy," said Takashi with a frown.
"He didn't have to be a nosey eavesdropper."
"You're a real harsh woman, did you know that?"
"You're still a lazy old geezer."
Takashi took this statement as a challenge. He put his hand over his heart, looked Misato straight in the eyes and said, "Tell me I'm wrong and I'll change my ways. Scouts honor."
Misato took another drink of here beer and emptied the can. She set that one aside and cracked open one of the others that Frank had left for her. She drained the can with one tip to the head. Frank's mother would have been appalled.
"I'd almost agree with you Takashi," she said beginning to feel the first effects of a buzz. "Actually, I'm sure I would. If it weren't for one thing."
"What's that?" asked Takashi interested.
"The children."
Takashi let out a charming little chuckle that filled the small space around them. He had expected an answer like that and knew he had no true defense against it.
"It's always the children, isn't it?"
"Seems that way," she said reflectively. "Have you ever had children?"
"You know I looked after that Miyamoto boy until his mother came back."
"I mean before all of this."
"No," said Takashi with a hint of sadness. "I never got around to it. I was too busy with work and making money to even consider having a serious relationship, much less children."
"Do you regret it?"
"Yeah, a bit. When I was younger I always thought I'd have a little one to show the ropes. Teach him how the world works and such. Heck, he'd maybe even be a piano prodigy or something. Make Mizuho a household name."
There was silence for a while. Misato let Takashi dwell upon his dreams, as she tried not to think of her problems. But Takashi was too perceptive for his own good. He noticed the faint look of sadness on the cheerful woman's face.
"Why are you asking anyways? Trouble at home?"
Misato looked around to make sure no one was listening. She took special care to give Frank a glare he'd never forget. She then spoke in a soft voice that was just above a whisper, but not easily overheard.
"I'm worried Takashi. The kids, they're too… close."
"What's a matter with kids liking each other?"
"It's not that their liking each other it's just…" She paused for a second as if in deep thought. "Remember how you found them sleeping the night you returned?"
"Yeah I remember. They were all wrapped up like a pretzel. The strangest sleeping arrangements I've ever seen."
"Keep your voice down!" Misato hissed. In all truthfulness the man had been talking at a volume no higher than normal.
"A bit worked up, aren't we?"
"Well, you'd be worked up too if your charges were doing that every night."
"Look Misato," said Takashi soothingly. "He's a boy. She's a girl. It's only natural that they'd want to… explore certain things, right? You may be supper woman in this new life of yours, but even you can't stop hormones. Sure their just kids, but if they're in love I say more power to them."
"If they were in love I wouldn't care. Heck, if I thought they were just knocking boots I wouldn't have minded as much. Sure I'd have a talk with them, but I wouldn't be so… worried."
"Why don't you have a talk with them? It's the only way you'll get this off your mind."
"I don't know. I'm just scared. I'm afraid something's going to happen if they keep going on like this."
"Nothing's happened so far," he said encouragingly. "Maybe nothing ever will."
"Maybe," she conceded. "But what if they grow up and move out and they still need each other. What if they don't grow into functioning adults?"
"Then they'd be just like everyone else wouldn't they?"
Misato glared daggers at Takashi who in turn just sat there and smiled.
"You know I never did like you."
"I know, you say that every night."
"Why do I even talk to a cynical old coot like you?"
"Maybe because you're attracted to me?" he said offhandedly.
"Definitely not."
"That's too bad. I haven't had sex since I got back to this supposed New World."
Misato stared at him in shock at his words.
"You are much too free with your information Takashi."
"Only the information that doesn't matter."
"But you're free with all of it."
"My point exactly."
Misato just looked at the man in annoyance. He sure did have an odd way of getting under her skin, just when she least expected it. But don't be fooled by her lie. She knew exactly why she talked to the middle age man. She talked to him because it helped.
As she got up to leave Takashi addressed her again. "Leaving so soon? You haven't finished your last beer."
"I'm taking it to go."
"See you tomorrow Misato."
She set some yen down on the table to pay for her drinks. It was almost a sick joke considering the uselessness of currency within this current society.
"See you then Takashi. Keep the change Frank."
And with that she was off. Off to her troubled home where two teens slept nestled together on a bed filled with need.
A/N: Well as far as feedback goes I'd be happy if you all could tell me your views on me writing this story in third person. This is the first time I've done that in quite a while and I'd just like to know how I did. Until next time.
Fresh C
