Chapter 1

Czechia; 2nd August, 2019

The train lurched around a bend. The movement lifted the head of the sleeping woman and let it fall against the glass.

Asuka woke from the movement, groaning. Outside, the faint lights of a town sped past, and then the train was plunged into a dark world. Her reflection was visible in the glass, and she inspected it for a moment. The past few days had been hurried, and it was visible in her face. She sighed, pulled her hair back into a tail, and turned to the rest of the train.

The nighttime train was fairly empty, particular in the lounge car she and Shinji were in. The rest of the occupants were mostly suits of various types, and an older woman wearing an unreasonably expensive dress, all sleeping. Next to Asuka, Shinji was lounging back in his seat, face hidden by both his scraggly hair and his high buttoned dress shirt. He was staring intently at his deck, a black-plastic model that he occasionally typed into before taking sips of coffee. Beside it, she saw he had been reading The Wisdom of Insecurity, his dog-eared copy of the book laying on a small table in between them.

Asuka watched as he gazed into the device, wanting yet unwilling to grab his attention. After a while, she checked her watch and saw that it there was still an hour left to go before the third began. With that knowledge, she closed her eyes and tried to drift off, this time being sure to keep her head away from the window. She didn't go for very long before there was a tap on her shoulder. She opened them to see an official standing over her. "Yes?"

"I hate to bother you, but we've received a complaint, on the matter of your, ah . . ." As he trailed off his eyes drifted down, and Asuka followed them to her bag. The edge of her pistol—a P22CA she had selected as her protective sidearm—was just pushing out.

"Oh, that." Asuka rummaged in her jacket pocket before pulling out her NERV identification badge, complete with the UN's seal and stamp. "I spoke to a conductor before we left, but that's no issue." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Shinji had looked over, and smirked slightly at that. "I am authorized to carry this weapon, and may waive inspection. If it's an issue, he is too," she added. It seemed that Shinji was about to protest, but the motion died before it picked up much weight. The man above her merely gave her a clipped apology and walked away.

"Oh that was satisfying," she mumbled to herself as she turned back around.

"Was it? It looks like you could have pushed it further down, avoided anyone seeing it. Then we wouldn't have needed to talk to him."

"But then what would be the point? Come on, Second Child, what's the point of being a pilot if you can't show it—knowing that pilots are around give people hope. Knowing we can help them, that's important. I should hope that they can appreciate it." Shinji shrugged at that, as Asuka expected him to do. Even after all the year she had known him, he still didn't appreciate what he had. What all the pilots had. She yawned and leaned back.

"Get much rest?" Shinji asked her after a moment. She shook her head—she hadn't slept well in a long time. By this point, she took it as granted. Her mother may have gone from the world, but never from her mind. "About the angel?"

At last she spoke. "Please, about the angel? Maybe it would be anxiety-inducing for the second-best pilot, but I'm made of sterner stuff." She let out a tiny smirk, fully expecting for him to take the bait.

He didn't disappoint, instead cutting right back. "Second best? I don't see how that's the case."

"Simple. I have, what, two-hundred-and-fifty kills. You have somewhere near two-hundred. Ergo, I'm the better pilot."

"Oh," Shinji said. "But those were simulation kills, weren't they? Figured only actual ones would work, so 1-0 in my favor."

"A fluke," she insisted. In truth, it had been. It hadn't been her fault she was in Berlin with Doctor Naoko Akagi when the angelic embryo they had been studying in Japan finally emerged. It wasn't as if Shinji even had done anything impressive. He had killed a child, effectively. An angel, yes, but there had been no danger in what had occurred, no glory. Well, there was glory for him, but it was glory that he shouldn't have gained. She rolled her eyes at the memory. She would prove herself when the next came, in any case.

"If you say so," Shinji said, and looked back down at his deck. Asuka stared at him, unsure of what to do. It was easier to end a conversation without truly stepping on each other. Hurt less that way—even she could understand that. Didn't mean that was for the best, though.

"What you working on?" she asked.

"Talking with Touji," he answered, and typed something in quickly. Asuka nodded. In some ways, even Suzuhara was easier to deal with than Ikari, at least the jock had some sense of camaraderie between pilots. Even then, Suzuhara was still a far cry from being an ideal pilot, or even a passable one.

"He's up early. How is he?" Asuka somehow managed to make herself sound interested.

"Bored and nervous," Shinji answered. Asuka hummed in sympathy. Those three words could sum up the entire life of a pilot. "Sounds like he's playing a game of hurry up and wait—once they start with upgrading Unit-04 are down, he'll be the only active pilot on the homefront."

"Best hope that nothing attacks then," Asuka decided. "Can't trust the stooge with dinner, can't trust him with defending the world."

"That was one time," Shinji let out the smallest bit of protest. It wasn't enough.

"You threw up." Asuka had photographic evidence of the event, too. It had been the night when she and Shinji had finally returned to Tokyo after the successful extraction of the embryonic angel in the Falklands. 2015 was so many years ago. The initial trio of pilots: Asuka, Shinji, and Touji, had only just begun working alongside each other when the angel embryo was discovered. While some new girl from Hokkaido named Hikari Horaki had been recruited for pilot Unit-04 to give the homefront a better chance, Asuka and Shinji from Japan were sent to capture the angel. Asuka remembered hoping for glorious battle, for raining shots and slicing steel to destroy her enemy. To experience the taste of victory.

Instead, they had successfully contained the lifeform, had it frozen and transported back to Tokyo without incident. Sure the angel, later designated Sachiel, had hatched some six months ago, but at the time all Asuka had felt was the disappointment when she had emerged from the plug, and the slow elation that came from everyone else's joy. It had been surprisingly contagious, even if Shinji's reaction to his friend's apocalyptic meal had put a slight damper on things.

The memory caused Shinji to shudder, and gave Asuka slight grin. "Still, he is a pilot. Once Hikari's unit is upgraded, he'll know he's safe."

"I think he's in agreement," Shinji added.

"Good. Tell him I said that." Shinji nodded, and Asuka leaned back, closing her eyes and trying to imagine her happiest days.

All along their voyage through Europe, the hubs of travel had been busy. It reminded Asuka of when she had been in Brasilia for Unit-02's launch into space, watching the red wonder be taken up to NERV-5, providing global coverage for the Evangelions. Her joy at the moment had been stifled by the crowds that had been packed into Brasilia after Second Impact, still not fully housed after so much of the coastline had been lost. Europe, despite sharing in tragic losses, was significantly better off now, the privilege of having the UN's attention and budget. The fact that two Evangelions had been built in Europe had certainly helped. Looking back, it was also likely the reason why, now that Unit-02 was in space and not Europe, Unit-01 was being brought over. Everything cycled in and out, cause and effect.

An angel was discovered in the Falklands, so the UN wanted an Evangelion to be deployable across the entire world. Unit-02 was transported into space, and so Europe wanted an Evangelion permanently within the continent. Unit-01 became that designated Eva, and so Asuka began planning a trip to let Shinji experience Europe, which itself lead to her now hoping that traffic in Paris wouldn't be too bad.

Disappointingly, Gare du Nord was horrendously packed, and she had to practically pull Shinji through the entire thing, arm latched to arm. She was certain that otherwise he would get lost, likely fall into despair, or something else like that. It was so very Shinji to become useless in some unexpected way, even if he did end up pulling some of his weight at the end.

Most of the first day was spent resting after having spent all of the previous day touring Prag, and the day before that being their final day in Berlin. A little bit of walking was done, some food was eaten, but the rest was sleeping and lounging.

There were some stares at Asuka when her phone went off at the restaurant that night. She ignored them, took another bite of her steak, a sip of cabernet-sauvignon, and told Shinji she would be off for a moment. She didn't answer until she was across the small street they had been dining at.

She saw the extension code, and scowled.

"Jawohl," she said cheerfully, hoping to irritate the woman on the other end of the line.

"Really, Asuka?" Dr. Ritsuko Akagi muttered from the other end of the line, and Asuka smiled. "Is that how things are going to go?" Her voice sounded rough. With someone else, that might have provoked sympathy.

"I was in the middle of dinner," she replied. "So, yes. Wait—how late, or early, are things for you? Figured you'd be starting off slow after . . ."

A laugh came from the other line. "Your fatal flaw, Asuka, is assuming I need to sleep. Or rest. Besides, that isn't the point. Commander would have been the one to contact you both, but he does need sleep, as it turns out. We have a situation."

"And that is?"

"Pattern blue, in the Canadian hinterlands."

"Got anything more than that?" Asuka asked, unfazed, but slightly confused. Keeping her in the loop was one thing. This, however, was something a bit different. "Unit-02 can't patrol all of Canada. Got an exact location?"

"The pattern was present for five hours before our satellites lost connection with the site. We moved others over, but they aren't having much luck narrowing it down. Ground based inspection will go quicker."

"How?" Asuka bristled, already expecting how this was going to end, and liking that ending less and less. "Can't we just position more satellites over it?"

"We will. However, there is something called image resolution, and the satellites we could get over on short notice were quite poor in that regard. The ones that can actual scan for AT-fields in narrow bands take a long time to view from their normal paths." Asuka pulled the phone away from her mouth for a moment to swear. "Professional."

"Isn't NERV-1 a non-smoking area?" Asuka grinned as she could all but hear the scowl from the other end of the line. Shinji gave her a look from back at their table, but she waved him off.

"Regardless," Dr. Akagi gritted out, "there is the potential for an angel to be in the hinterlands. You'll be going with a team to investigate."

Asuka held back the urge to groan, to snap back from acidic comment at the doctor. The lack of anything approaching respect was palpable. There is a silver lining, Asuka forced herself to admit. If there was an angel, then she would have her own solo kill. The sort of thing she had been waiting for so long to see. "What about Shinji?" she asked. Just to cover her bases.

"Don't much care," Dr. Akagi said. "The Commander thinks he should be here in NERV-1, but that doesn't mean he should ignore the task he's set on. So tell him to keep travelling as you both already were. Maybe the boy can enjoy something for a change."

The temptation was present to throw another snide remark the doctor's way, but Asuka resisted it. "Alright," she said instead. "Can you give me specifics?"

"A dossier will be forwarded to your deck."

Her resistance faltered. "Glad to hear your intern is getting work," Asuka said, ended the call before a response could be made, and travelled back over to her travel partner to tell him the news.

NERV-5, Earth Orbit; 3 August, 2019

On the furthest edge of NERV-5's loop, Gendo Ikari watched as the red behemoth was carefully maneuvered into its launching capsule. Engineers and labourers in pressurized suits were slowly shifting it, ensuring the best fit. Below, the green-and-blue orb spun. He was safe from it, at least for now. No lumbering angel could reach him—instead he could focus on his true goals. Goals that had been put on hiatus for too long ago.

He watched the installation for a while longer before moving to other matters. His location on the edge of NERV-5 had provided some measure of gravity, and he enjoyed it as he sat down at his desk. He quickly moved through a number of items: the scheduled upgrades for Unit-04 would be ready by the end of the week, the budget for the next year had been tentatively approved, and the First Child would soon be heading to investigate the Pattern Blue. Even though it had been a reality for a long time, he still winced when he thought of the girl as the First Child. The designation was not meant for her.

He idly checked the file he had put together on Rei Ayanami. She had disappeared the day Doctor Katsuragi died—NERV's security systems had fallen apart for a short while, and when they came back, the girl was gone. An attempt to splice her soul into a new body had failed. She was still alive somewhere out there. Naoko Akagi still tried the splicing procedure every now and then to be sure of it. Until she returned, or died, the scenario would be put on hold.

At least his would. The old men seemed to be doing quite well for themselves, even if they had a few issues of their own. At least the funding for the Mass Production Evas was still being slowed at every turn by the UN. When Second Impact had occurred, the old men had hoped for the world to lament, and elect them as the pallbearers. Instead, the world had joined hands and sung kumbaya. Because of that, some out there were outside of SEELE's pockets. For that he was eternally grateful.

Below him, Europe just coming into view. His son was somewhere down there. They hadn't spoken in years, hadn't seen each other in years, when the girl disappeared. With only one pilot, and that one in Germany at the time, a harsh change had been made necessary. Their relationship had been repaired as swiftly as Gendo could make it, even if haphazardly so. Whatever had been built between them was the facsimile of a relationship, of that there was no doubt, at least in his mind. The boy would understand though, given time. Once Yui returned.

But for that, Gendo needed the girl. And there, again, was the crux of the issue. After over a decade having passed, they had come no closer to finding her. Until the dice landed the right way, there would be no proceeding with his scenario. And as time passed on, it seemed more and more likely that the dice were loaded against him.

Just give it up, some part of him thought. Focus on fighting SEELE. Give your son a still have time.

There was a time once when he truly thought that. Second Impact had been devastating to the world: near a third of the Antarctic's ice had melted, cities across the world had been flooded, governments had crashed. Thankfully, much of the damage had been superficial. Tokyo and New York, though sites of some of the highest death tolls, had survived. The Maldives had managed to relocate their government, and some of their citizens survived. And to fight the angels, three of those who had been there since the beginning were ready. His mentor, his wife, his associate. He had been sure that they would succeed.

It didn't take long for things to go wrong. Doctor Katsuragi had gone missing early in 2001. Gendo would eventually learn that his desire to share the facts of Second Impact with the public had drawn SEELE's ire and assassins. The fact that the Doctor managed to survive as long as he had was nothing short of amazing. Then Yui had decided to grant herself the world's largest sarcophagus. It was then that he actually stepped in.

And now, he couldn't even bring her back, it seemed.

The alarm on his watch buzzed, and Gendo returned his focus to the present. His weekly interrogation, courtesy of the old men, would be soon. He hurriedly changed into something that made him look halfway respectable, and shaved as best he could. There was a nick on his chin from the effort, but at least now it looked like he gave something of a damn.

The meeting room was at the center of NERV-5, equidistant from all of the other places of interest. For this, though, Gendo rode from the spindle to the central axis, the tug of gravity lessening as he made his way from the torus to the interior needle.

He floated into the chamber. Two technicians were in the meeting room already, fixing something with the console. They looked over as their employer entered the room, a tall, too-thin figure gliding by virtue of the zero-g. They finished their work quickly and left the room. Gendo sealed it behind them, ensuring his privacy.

When the projections formed, Gendo was sitting next to six other persons: the five heads of the Human Instrumentality Project, and Sub-Commander Fuyutsuki, his head of events back planetside.

"Commander Ikari," the American member of the board began, "I take it you have been updated on the situation of the angels."

"The potential one in Canada? I'm well aware, gentlemen."

"Then we shall see if the decision to bring Unit-02 into orbit shall pay off," Amon el Mahdy, a French man shaded in red, said. "Or if those assets would have been better used to develop further units, to create a permanent presence." Gendo fought the urge to roll his eyes at her suggestion. He had thought that they would have been at least somewhat subtle about their desire to create the MP series. Both groups knew that this was actually what they wanted, even if they would never speak about it.

"Regardless," Gendo began, "we are doing as the U.N. dictated. And thanks to the generous help of the Ashpool corporation, we've managed to get this station running. Our ensurance that the world is safe from the angelic threat will ensure a better place for funding for all organizations and branches. I can't see that anyone would have any disagreements with that."

"Indeed," the green shaded man—Lorenz Kiel, head of the Human Instrumentality Project, and head of SEELE—spoke. Gendo schooled himself: Kiel was the one who had ensured that the Evangelions be built and the one who wished for Instrumentality. The one who loosed so much upon the world. The one who forced Yui to go away, even if indirectly, and the one who would keep Gendo from her. "Regardless, is it certain the angels will even be in the New World? The Dead Sea Scrolls never mentioned anything of the sort."

Beneath his steepled hands, Gendo smirked. So obsessed with old papers. "The authors of the Scrolls did not know of the existence of the Americas either. Not to mention that they said they angels would arrive four years ago," he pointed out. That seemed to quiet Kiel effectively, as the entire conference stood still for a moment. It was a dangerous moment, but one that he took relish in. Kiel's insistence on following the scrolls had been a source of continuing strife amongst SEELE. First his overestimation of Second Impact, followed by an assumption that the angels would arrive in 2015, and now the issue of the Americas. It was faint, but it was likely that all of SEELE saw it: Kiel was slipping.

"We live in changing times," Kiel admitted. "We shall push through as valiantly as we can, and when the day comes, we shall be one."

The meeting went on for a short while longer. After the tensions that came up at the beginning of each meeting, it was a relief to focus instead on budgets and policy changes. Still, as he went back to his quarters, he couldn't help but feel exhausted. He checked his deck briefly before going to bed, then stopped. The file created for Rei Ayanami had been updated. Feverishly, he opened it, and scrolled through. Naoko had sent him a text file, a transmission that had been sliced from SEELE's communications.

Hybrid relocated, it read, eliminate target. A small annotation to the piece was below it. All but certain they're referring to Ayanami. The location data was further encrypted, Naoko wrote, we're working on that level.

The moment he read that, Gendo tapped out a message to the Sub-Commander. The spare bodies had to survive. If SEELE knew they existed, then everything he had worked for was over. If they didn't, though, or if they didn't get to all of them . . . then the Scenario could return to its schedule.

Tokyo, Japan; 3 August 2019

Dr. Ritsuko Akagi woke slowly, letting the sounds of the world come to her gently. At her side, Maya was breathing softly, her arm draped across Ritsuko's chest. Still asleep, then.

She moved carefully, sliding out of the other woman's embrace without waking her. Bare feet slipped across cool tile—tile that she, in her memory, knew was black. A warmth touched her side, and she knew that the sun was coming up, glinting over the skyscrapers and piercing into her home. She stood there for a moment, letting the feeling wash over her, letting the warmth consume her. It was a thing that left her in awe, just as much today as it had months ago, first noticing the warmth this way. A speckling of dawn and hope.

The feeling was quickly interrupted by a small weight stepping on her foot and meowing insistently.

"Yes, yes," she muttered, scooping Octavian up in her arms. "You'll get fed." The cat squirmed in her arms, coarse hair rubbing against her arms.

A half-formed grumble from the other room let Ritsuko know that Maya was awake, and a moment later a call of "I can feed the beast," came from the bedroom.

"If you want to."

"I do," Maya said, coming closer. Her voice was beginning to throw off the sleepiness it had held moments earlier. How she managed that so easily, Ritsuko was still unable to reason out. Octavian was lifted from her arms delicately, Maya cooing gently as she pulled him away. Ritsuko could feel the cat's feet flailing against her hands. Maya padded away, and Ritsuko moved into the apartment's kitchen.

It took a few minutes for Maya to return, during which time Ritsuko was throwing out her empty natto carton and go to get her toast. "Want some?" Ritsuko asked, holding up the package of bread.

A moment passed before Maya responded. "Oh, right," she muttered at first, quietly, before answering affirmatively. Ritsuko nodded along, jamming the bread in before returning to the fridge to find the butter.

"Much for today?"

"More of the same," Maya said, mouth still full. "Bridge work is boring work. Sometimes I miss the Falklands. You?"

"More work on the MAGI," Ritsuko replied. "Without an angel to study anymore, can't do much of that side of the job. And the new armor materials are still being fabricated, so I've got some time till Unit-04 can start."

"Any progress there?"

Ritsuko sighed. "Still cryptic as ever—my mother seemed to have expected me to just slot some neural net or an AI in addition to updating the OS. I'm not surprised she forgot about the Turing Police but it still is going to be a hassle. So I'm gonna need to speak with the Commander on how advanced a program we need. Cause I do not want to be the person that has to go through all of the paperwork for that headache."

"Well, if we end up needing to create a basic neural net, you know where you can find me. Sure it will be more interesting than watching the pilots bicker between themselves."

"By that you mean all of them except Ikari," Ritsuko countered. She had been at NERV for a year when the boy had been brought in by his father. In theory, part of her job had been to acclimate him to being a pilot while he was raised by a number of experts. In practice, it had made her a sort of big sister, and she had rarely seen him be anything other than polite. The others more freely jumped between joking acerbity and genuine anger. "Watching Soryu try to rally them around a single goal is interesting."

"I suppose so," Maya decided after a moment. "Myself, I just wonder why they don't go along with it. She does bring up good ideas."

"Ideas that I imagine they think that they'll never need to use. Piloting is a job for the others; it's a lifestyle for her." Maya hummed at agreement at that. "Besides, if they all went with her on anything, I imagine that things at the bridge would become a bit boring."

"You're feeling a bit sarcastic today," Maya noticed. Ritsuko shrugged as she picked up her plate and glass. "And yesterday as well. I overheard your call with Soryu."

"Is that an issue?"

"Not necessarily. I just wanted to know if everything is alright."

"I suppose. My mother wants to talk, though."

"Oh."

"Exactly." With care, Ritsuko loaded their things into the dishwasher. She had learned to take her time at this task, less because she couldn't do it and more because the sound of shattering glass was something she never wished to experience again in her life. "At least it won't be about us."

"I suppose that's a relief," Maya said. Her voice was light, and its presence lifted Ritsuko up, as it had done many times in the past two years. "You'll be alright."

Ritsuko had a handful of minutes after she arrived at NERV-1 before her mother arrived. Her office was deep in NERV-1, within the underground facilities that performed the necessary upkeep on the Evangelions, and near the collection of supercomputers that ran the MAGI. Close at hand, yet a significant distance from her mother, precisely as she preferred it to be. Taking in the solace of the room, she set to work at her deck, furthering coding efforts for the MAGI, repairing little snippets of broken code here or there. Her hands flew over the tactile-touchscreen, a deck custom built for her—all the lines of a program bumped in lines to let her feel them, and the text automatically transferred into dot characters.

As she powered it on, an anonymous message request came through for her. She inspected it, swiped it open, dashed her hand across it, and scowled. Thanks for the message, it read. Already moved downwind. Can assure you it wasn't us?

You should have waited until I was on a private terminal—off of NERV's net, she quickly responded. Or are you getting sloppy Antony? No contact unless I initiate it. With that, she swept the message away emphatically and dove into the code.

She emerged from it a few minutes later as a knock came at her door. "Come in," she called out, and a creak could be heard throughout.

"It's me," her mother announced herself. "I'm here to talk." Her voice cut the exact sort of way her mother was, severe and excised. Ritsuko had to resist the urge to shudder. She and her mother had once lived as a family. The memories of that time were so far distant now that she wondered how accurate they were.

"I know, mother," Ritsuko cut her off. "You were the one that asked for us to have this meeting, after all." There was silence after that, as Naoko walked closer, flicked on the lights, and took a seat. The rustle of metal against concrete was something that Ritsuko had grown accustomed to long ago. "Can I ask what brings you here, and not me to you. I'm sure that the ivory tower has a wonderful view."

"I see you can joke about a very unpleasant matter," Naoko broke forth. Ritsuko tilted her head slightly. "You could at least treat your affliction with some degree of severity."

"Affliction. Interesting word choice—I would have picked a different word for thirteen shards of glass in my face, five in my eyes. Still, interesting choice."

There was a very long pause before her mother spoke again. "You don't have to keep doing this, Ritsuko."

"Do what?"

"You got hurt in the line of duty," Naoko began softly. "It . . . it isn't unfair to decide that you have had enough. The injuries that you have endured would be damaging for anyone. You've assuredly lost a step."

"A step isn't difficult to make up. NERV would lose a klick without me. Slight difference." In the back of her mind, Ritsuko already knew what was going to be said. What her mother was likely to say. Please, she hoped nonetheless, please don't think what others think.

"It's difficult to write when one can't see," her mother said, and Ritsuko's heart plummeted. "There are others out there who can continue your work, on the MAGI and elsewhere." It was the last thing that she had hoped for her mother to say.

"No one knows the new MAGI like I do," Ritsuko countered. The sorrow that had filled her turned to rage. She only got to where she is because of the Commander, a part of her said. It was irrational to a fault. She loved it.

"They can learn. I don't—"

"Get out," Ritsuko snapped. Her voice was cold—it surprised even her. She cringed inwardly as the silence stretched outward between them. Finally, the sound of footsteps, the chair being pushed in, and a walk to the doorway.

"If you can't keep the pace, you will be let go" her mother said before opening the door. "We're in the fight for our lives. There's no room for failure."

"I know," Ritsuko growled. "Now get out."

"I'm going to fucking die," Ritsuko said an hour later as she pulled another drag from her cigarette. The wind from the cafeteria balcony tickled against her side, a welcome sensation.

"Having to speak with a parent," Misato deadpanned to her left. "The uncontainable horror of it all. Even if they are much less than ideal."

Ritsuko grumbled under her breath. "Point," she conceded, and knocked the ash off and over the rail.

The ashes would fall into NERV-1's central gardens. The headquarters and primary manufactory for NERV, the building was located a few dozen miles outside of Tokyo, a hollow cylinder burrowing down into the Earth into a cavern called the GeoFront. The entire thing was massive, one of the only buildings in the world capable of housing EVAs, and one of the only two that were capable of creating them. On the inside of the ring were vast gardens. Months ago, whenever Ritsuko needed time away from her work, she would look down onto them. Perhaps stare at the people walking through them.

"Think someone down there will choke on that ash?"

"Probably not," Ritsuko said.

"See, that sort of philosophy in life is what causes you to give people asthma attacks."

"Really?"

"I'm just saying." The comment came out a little louder than Misato seemed to intend. That tendency itself was a little more common than Misato seemed to intend. All in all, Misato was a little more than Misato seemed to intend.

"You're being melodramatic."

"And you told me that you, and I quote, were going to fucking die."

"Point," Ritsuko grumbled again. "I was hoping; however, that you would help me in a time of woe such as now."

"Don't know if I can help you deal with your mother, but I can at least promise you a drink."

"That would be nice," Ritsuko said. "Thanks, Misato." She gave the other woman a smile.

"No worries. Oh, and Ritsuko?"

"Yeah?"

"Isn't NERV-1 a non-smoking area?"

There was a long pause between them, before Ritsuko muttered, "I fucking hate everyone here."

Misato chuckled, and shifted. "Still, you doing alright?"

"Alright. You?"

"Dreamed of La Paz again," Misato said. Ritsuko nodded mutely; she had heard vaguely of what Misato had done as a soldier, but had never journeyed further into those conspiratorial myths. She didn't need to know about that part of her friend's life.

"You know, there are healthier ways of dealing with that than drink. If you need, I have a number."

"I don't need someone to act like a parent to me," Misato said, her voice clipped. "I've done well alone."

Silence lingered in between them after Misato had finished speaking. Ritsuko remembered when she had thought that way, before she had met Maya. Until then, her only real tie had been to her mother. And her only real tie is to the Commander.

Ritsuko was about to speak, but she was cut off by the warning sirens blaring, three high-pitched tones in quick succession, repeating every five seconds. Neither of them needed to be told what it was. The door swung open in Misato's grip, and Ritsuko rushed in, both moving to their stations.

The fourth angel had arrived.