"Commander Ikari, I wish to take full responsibility for the damage sustained by the Evangelion Units during the battle against the Angel."

Misato stared at him. They were back at the command bridge in the Geofront, on the comms to the Commander. She was confused; that was exactly what she was going to say. Commander Ikari hadn't known about the deployment of all four Evas, as Sahaquiel had knocked out most communications.

"I wish to elaborate," Henry explained. "I feel responsible, as I was in charge of co-ordinating the assault and I should have contributed more to the actual attack. Evangelion Units 00 and 01 both sustained heavy damage and it was my fault."

"I refuse to stand aside and take no blame for this," cut in Misato. "I was the one who allocated command to Parkinson. If anyone is to blame it is myself, especially as Parkinson has no jurisdiction over the other Units."

"Enough of your grovelling," said the faceless voice of Commander Ikari. "I blame neither of you for taking initiative in the Angel attack. Also, the cost of not doing so would have far-outstripped the cost of the damage done."

"Oh," said Henry, who had really been expecting more, or at least some form of punishment. Being let off the hook so easily felt wrong.

/

Henry was back in his room, lining up candles on his shelf and carefully lighting them. All different shapes and sizes. Black, red, blue, white, grey and orange. One for each member of his family lost. He wasn't sure why he did it, but it felt … right. The scent of the candles mingled into something strange and alien, as though they shouldn't really be together. But Henry kept them together nonetheless.

"Henry?" asked a voice at his door. Learning from his previous mistake, Henry didn't spin round like a caged animal, but merely turned to see who was at his door. It was Rei, changed out of her plugsuit and into her school uniform. Henry didn't get that about Rei. She never seemed to wear anything but her school uniform or plugsuit. Even Misato and Asuka had casual wear.

"Oh, hi, Rei. Weren't you getting checked up in the medical bay?"

"They let me out. I want to know something."

"Fire away."

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what?" asked Henry, as though she was avoiding the question on purpose.

"Why did you help me earlier?"

"Rei, Shinji and Asuka aren't the only pilots here. We need all the help we can get. Also, you aren't any less important than them."

"We're only support pilots."

"Only because our Evangelions aren't as powerful as theirs. It doesn't make you or me any less important."

Rei paused for a while. "What are the candles for?" she asked.

"For my family. I dunno why, but I wanted to do this."

"Is family important?"

Henry scratched his head. "Well, sure. Don't you have any family?"

Silence. Rei could have frozen solid and you wouldn't be able to tell the difference. Henry was about to go over and poke her to make sure she was actually awake when she said, "I don't have a family."

"Second Impact?"

Rei didn't answer that one at all. "Henry?"

"What?"

"What do you think of Commander Ikari?"

Henry had to think about that one. "I don't know. I haven't met him since coming here. He seems to be the kind of man who's always there but never there, if you get my drift."

"He's Shinji's father."

"I know. Well, I figured."

"What do you think of Shinji?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

"I think he's a bit whiny, hasn't got half the guts he should have, he's psychologically predisposed to subordination, he can't seem to make a decision for himself, and he's a little to quick to decide to kill the Angels. But he genuinely seems to care about you, me and Asuka. He's the kind of person who wants what's best for everyone else, because he thinks that will make him happy. And mostly he just wants his father to be proud of him, to see him as more than just another kid."

Rei didn't answer. She just turned on her heel and left.

Henry stared at the line of candles. The black one was starting to burn down a lot. He sighed. Soon enough, he'd find out that another one was dead, and he would have to light another. But now was not that time.

He drew a battered photo from his pocket. Well, not so much a photograph as a skilled drawing. He smiled.

I will make you proud of me. Just a little longer.