It was daytime. At least, that was what it felt like. Even with the window blinds closed, the fluorescent lights threw the room into such sharp relief that it nearly hurt the eyes. It didn't help that everything was white. The floor tiling, the countertops, even the chairs near the door were the same pale shade as the counters and the sheets. The monitors were that annoying shade of medical, sterile white.
There were only two sounds in the room, the constant bip-bip-bip of the monitors and the whoosh of the air tank. Every once in a while, the frequency of the beeping would increase, only to drop seconds later. The air tank was constant, never wavering. It was a comforting sound.
One of the chairs by the door was occupied. There was a man sitting in it, his dark hair, pants, and jacket clashing with the whiteness of the room. His arms hung by his sides, his head nodding slightly as he slept.
The woman was asleep as well. She looked incredibly youthful, a healthy rose color suffusing her cheeks. Her red hair fanned out around her shoulders, lending her an airy, weightless feel. She would have been the most alive thing in the room, if not for the fact that she was lying in the bed in the middle of it, or for the tears cutting tracks down her face.
The door slid open. The man in the chair jerked at the sound, his eyelids opening to reveal the bloodshot whites and pupils within. A woman walked in, a purple wave of color falling down her military-issue jacket. Her hair and red sweater were disheveled, as if she had just rolled out of bed. The man sank back into his chair as the newcomer gently slid the door halfway shut. She turned back around.
"I had some time off of work today. How is she…" The woman trailed off.
The man in the chair let out a shaky breath. "Not good. It's only been a few days, but it feels like it's been a few weeks." A tear leaked out of his eye. "She's not doing well."
Footsteps echoed through the crack in the door. They grew louder and louder, until finally a young man in his early twenties burst into the room, chest heaving. "Christ. My flight was late. I flew in as soon as I got your…" He took a moment, gasping for breath from his mad dash down the corridor. "Just… How are you two holding up?"
The man in the chair gave a wan smile, shrugging. His jacket rustled with the motion. "Not great. Thanks for flying in, though. Everyone that can get here helps." He got up, holding onto the chair to steady his legs. "This isn't easy to go through."
The woman in the jacket moved over to the bed, lifting the clipboard from the foot. She leafed through the pages, before sighing and placing it back. "This can't be easy for her."
The sound of the door sliding closed permeated the room. The three of them in the room turned, to see a slender, blue-haired woman moving the door the last few centimeters. She turned to the group, her crimson eyes moist. She attempted to speak, swallowing twice but only forcing out a few syllables.
The younger man moved over, pulling the blue-haired girl into a hug. This seemed to be the gateway she needed. The moment she entered the embrace, she began gushing tears. She was silent, despite the racking motions each silent sob tore through her body.
The sobs faded after a minute. The two of them unlocked, the male moving to the other man's side, the woman to the side of the bed.
"Thanks for coming." The man raised his head, the single track from his tear etched in his face. "I know that this isn't necessarily convenient, but…" He trailed off again.
The woman in the jacket smiled wanly. "We've known you and Asuka for years. Anything for our old friends."
"How long has she been like this?" The group turned to look at the blue-haired woman, now leaning against a counter with one leg crossed over the other. She sniffed, eyes still watery.
"Two days." The response was muffled. The man in the jacket had his head buried in his hands. "She was admitted to psyche today, though."
"How far in was she?" queried the military woman.
"Twelve weeks." The man raised his head, his expression haunted. "This wasn't supposed to happen after twelve weeks."
There was a shocked silence following his statement. Eyes widened. Jaws became slack, arms hanging uselessly by their owner's sides.
The younger man took a step back. "Christ," he whispered, drawing it out into two syllables. "Kee-rist." His legs steadied. "Isn't that an indicator of-"
"Don't." The man in the chair raised his finger in warning.
"This is important, it could be-"
The chair clattered to the floor. "Shinji, if you say one more word, one more word, I'm going to put you in one of these rooms yourself," snarled the man. His hands were balled into fists by his side.
The woman in the jacket briskly walked in between Shinji and the older man, distancing the two. "Calm down, okay?" she said, making her tone as soothing as possible. It was a mistake. He rounded on her, his expression black with fury.
"You do NOT tell me to calm down!" the man roared. "I have my wife lying in the middle of this room, and I don't know if she's going to be alive tomorrow!" His chest heaved for breath, and spittle flew from his lips. "You have no idea what I'm going through, and you have no god-damned right to tell me to calm down! That is my wife! MY WIFE!" The tears came then, as he sank down to his knees, sobbing, the same phrase issuing from his lips, "…my wife…my wife…"
The room was perfectly still, except for the man sobbing in the middle of it. The purple-haired woman, the one who had stepped in front of Shinji, was staring off into the distance. Her eyes were wide, shell-shocked. It was Shinji who stepped forward, placing his hand on her shoulder. It was only when he touched her that he could feel the waves coursing through her body with every dry, soundless sob.
"Misato." Nobody turned to look at the speaker, the girl with the blue hair. "He's right. None of us know the pain that he's going through." Her eyes, though earlier wet, were now hard. "You can't speak for him. Nobody can."
"Rei," Shinji murmured. "You're not helpin-." There was a flash. The girl went silent, her arms dropping.
The man on the ground was still sobbing, one convulsive movement after the other. Mucus dripped from his nose, tears leaked from his eyes. Both he wiped away with his jacket, not caring for the material.
He looked up, still teary-eyed, before it happened again. There, not as bright, but a warp in the weft of the room. Staggering, he got to his feet. The first thing he noticed was the absence of sound. The machines weren't beeping anymore.
He looked around, the tears abating now as he took in his surroundings. Misato, Rei, and Shinji were all frozen in a tableau. There were no sounds coming from them. The subtle rise and fall as they breathed was absent. He stared in shock at the lifeless figures standing in the room, before the world went dark completely.
There was nothing, just a dark, blank nothing devoid of sound or light. He floated there, like a mote of dust in a shaft of sunlight.
Then the sound came. It was like nothing in the world, a loud, sharp screech that tore into his ears. He bore the pain, not out of strength but because he could not move his arms or legs. A sound of rending metal followed. There was a loud screech, then a bone shaking crash as something tore into the darkness around him. There was the sound of a girl crying, followed by another, rumbling crash.
As the rumbling faded away, he became aware of the horrifying sensation that occurs when one has forgotten not to breath underwater. Fluid rushed into his nose, down to his core. He couldn't make a move to cough it up, a silent scream exploding inside of him as the liquid burned out his throat as it traveled to his very center.
His nose was burning; his throat felt like it was going to explode. That was before the pain came, a great, roaring crunch that sank into his bones and rent him in two. A second, silent scream bubbled up inside him-
And exploded out into the world, echoing over and over again in the confines of the hospital room.
The three alert members of the room turned to look at him in shock. The scream petered off, ending in a reedy wail, followed by heavy breathing. The man wasn't on his knees anymore, but now on all fours as the tears started again.
The stares of the three didn't help the man to recover from his ordeal. It had all been so sudden, but it had shaken him to the heart. He attempted again to get to his feet again, this time steadying himself to fix his gaze on the room. He stared into the room, his expression one of horror. The world was still there, but everything felt somehow wrong. Something wasn't the same. He felt it in his bones, something that he couldn't place but that he knew to be there.
A mind. Somebody else, whispering in his head.
The machine beeped.