Disclaimer: I do not own Evangelion.


He watched Naoko stroll down the main hall of the science wing towards him and felt a cold rush of dread. Shiro put off this encounter as long as possible, and between their respective duties following the MAGI's sabotage it was less a challenge than an exercise in scheduling.

She looked haggard. She was professional as ever, her clothes clean and pressed, her hair and makeup meticulously crafted, but no amount of cosmetic obfuscation could mask her exhaustion and age.

Naoko straightened as she approached, halting within a stride of him. After a furtive glance to assure they were alone she leaned up to surprise him with a peck on the lips.

"Good morning," she said with a tired smile.

"Good morning," he repeated numbly.

"Don't look at me like that," Naoko glowered. "I know it's early but you could at least pretend to be receptive."

"I wasn't complaining. I just wasn't expecting that."

"What were you expecting?" She waved it away and began walking again. He followed, falling into step at her side. "I suppose it would have been easier to simply tell you to stop avoiding me now."

"I didn't want to get in your way."

"Even I'm not averse to taking breaks. Woman cannot live by computer alone." Naoko appraised him, the attempt at contrition distorting his face, and decided it didn't matter if he was sincere or not. "Did you see Ritsuko before she left?"

"What?" The blood ran ice in his veins.

"She returned to Germany a few days ago, before the MAGI were attacked. Honestly, it's a relief to know she wasn't involved. Not that I suspected her of anything but it's better if she's away from this situation."

"You're sure she wasn't involved?" Shiro asked carefully.

"The MAGI operate with a series of independent random variable-producing—" She saw his brow wrinkling. "It means what happened could not be executed with a time delay or remote command without my authorization. You'd have to be onsite interfacing with the MAGI directly."

"That is a relief."

"So she didn't say goodbye to you either? I shouldn't be surprised. She never attended to civil formalities." Naoko frowned in regret for how she raised her daughter, and how her daughter raised herself. "I also shouldn't be surprised Kaji was able to catch her."

"Kaji?"

"He told me he escorted her out. Apparently there was some sort of mishap with the German branch's MAGI and she had to leave immediately."

"I didn't hear about that," Shiro said.

"I received the official error report this morning. One of the nearby cities the base relies on for power suffered an outage from a maintenance failure and the onsite tech division couldn't handle the emergency without Ritsuko."

"The timing's convenient."

"I know. There has to be an extended network of saboteurs at work. The American branches haven't reported any problems but they never do unless it benefits them directly." Naoko shook her head to dismiss the subject. She gestured to a panel on the wall marking their location, closing in on the testing chambers. "Were you planning on observing the synch test this morning?"

"I want to be on hand if any of the power relays to the simulation plugs were compromised."

"It's a bit late in the game to be developing paranoia."

"Who said it's developing?" He paused at the door to the synch bridge, looking back as Naoko stopped walking. "What is it?"

"I heard you've been spending a lot of time with Shinji-kun lately." Her lips bent in a hesitant grimace. "Are you sure that's a wise idea?"

"No."

"Then why do it?"

"I'm the one who gave him the motivation to stay and fight," Shiro said without pride. "I can at least answer his questions."

"Is that all you're doing?"

"I'm telling him what he needs to hear," he responded. He paused to consider her unspoken intimation. "No, I suppose it's not all. It's nothing but reinforcement."

For who? she thought resignedly.

They entered the test bridge together. Maya was at the head terminal directing the other techs, her commands exacting without shame.

"She's really thrown herself into her work lately," Shiro remarked.

"She doesn't have much else to throw herself at," Naoko replied with a wry grin.

They allowed Maya to exercise her limited authority, waiting in silence for the preparations to conclude. Out of respect and tradition Dr. Akagi commenced the synchronization test and the Children's faces appeared on the main monitor beneath sloping graphs displaying their proficiency. Rei looked tranquil. Asuka's brow was wrinkled at the bridge of her nose. Shinji appeared to be fighting off sleep.

His face was thin and pale. His eyes were sunken and ringed with shadow. That tired, vacant expression accompanied his every action lately. He spoke and acted without interest. His clothes and hair were rumpled and dirty. He was sluggish, moving through the base in an awkward shuffle. His entire body seemed too heavy for him.

Shiro hadn't expected a miraculous conversion into a happy, energetic child after their talks but this reaction was disconcerting. Shinji only visited when he had to be at the base for a test or drill, and made no attempt at outside communication. He was silent when they met, save a few brief questions to facilitate his wishes.

The more time they spent together the more Shiro questioned the boy's sudden thirst for knowledge. He seemed content beforehand to let fantasy dictate his mother's identity and was now intentionally destroying it. Nothing in the Section-2 surveillance reports appeared consequential enough to spur such a drastic change in behavior and although he was subdued Shinji didn't seem to be spiraling into a deeper depression. It's pointless not to know, was the only answer he gave Shiro.

Naoko moved to the control console and leaned over Maya to flip the intercom switch.

"Shinji-kun, what's wrong? Your score's slipping. You're not concentrating."

"Sorry, ma'am," he said without opening his eyes. "I'll try harder."

Naoko arched an eyebrow and slowly stepped back.

"Is there a problem?" Shiro asked.

"I don't think so. He's just never been so… compliant before. And he called me ma'am."

"He called me ma'am earlier," Maya said without looking away from her terminal. "During the prep. It took me by surprise, too." She shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't know my name."

"I'm not complaining," Naoko told her as she pointed to his synch score, "but it would be nice if he followed through. He hasn't made any significant improvement for weeks."

"A high synchronization does not ensure success." That earned Shiro a dirty glare and he shut his mouth.

"Without one anything else is meaningless."

The score was low but Shiro knew the boy a lot to think about. Shinji's new deferential willingness may be nothing more than a way to avoid people and give himself time to continue assimilating his life as a pilot. Anticipating disaster was fundamental to Shiro's early research, as well as NERV's current survival; it was difficult to not expect the worst in this situation. The reason Shinji kept returning to him may not be entirely good or bad, but he did keep coming back. He displayed commitment to the Eva. Shiro had to be doing something right. He felt a glimmer of contentment and did not kill it, though he knew he should. He knew it could not last.


Filiation

Chapter 9: Narcissus Blinks


"This is a troubling development," Fuyutsuki said.

Ikari Gendo's office was not conducive to holding conferences but it was the most secure area in the base outside Terminal Dogma. It was also one of the most conspicuous, and the crew no longer thought anything of their commanders spending hours at a time holed up in it. It allowed them to discuss sensitive matters without drawing attention to their absence.

Fuyutsuki still thought the size of the room was absurd but it did intimidate the underlings. It also granted the sense of detached peace Ikari preferred for strategic reflection. He watched his commander across the desk, his chin loosely propped up by one hand as he followed the briefing from a dossier. He looked like he was idly scanning a crossword puzzle.

"Troubling?" Naoko echoed at Fuyutsuki's side. "This could undermine everything."

"Let's focus on the present. What is our security situation?"

"The MAGI are back online and fully operational. There are no traces of foreign programs. Regardless, I've restricted non-essential personnel to basic functions. No one below level A clearance can access sensitive systems or their peripheries. It will slow us down but scheduling isn't a priority right now. Security patrols have also been doubled. I handled all of this myself; there was no delegation."

"None of that should surprise anyone," Fuyutsuki said. "They'll tolerate existing in a state of lockdown until we deem it unnecessary. What about Unit-00 and Rei?"

"They are the same issue," Gendo said, finally speaking. "Place a freeze on Unit-00 for battle operations."

"It won't be difficult to create an error report," Naoko told them, "ostensibly from complications stemming from the blackout. It's the best justification we can produce."

"I can't imagine our less steadfast associates will accept that at face value."

"If they don't, we won't be able to change their minds short of a costly and dramatic display. We don't have time for that kind of nonsense."

"Our credibility isn't at its highest right now," Fuyutsuki said, "and there are those who never considered us credible to begin with."

"Irrelevant," Gendo said. "Unit-00 will be frozen. Acceptance is not necessary."

"Very well." The Sub-Commander closed the report before him, signaling defeat. "Doctor, we'll leave it to you. Please complete it as soon as possible."

Naoko collected her briefings and stood, offering a modest bow. She appreciated the older man's attempts at professional courtesy but she preferred Ikari's straightforward orders. He knew what he wanted and made sure everyone else knew. It engendered efficiency and deference, both essential for NERV to function.

"Sir?" she asked, deciding a little exploitation of civility couldn't hurt. "I was wondering if a suspect has been named in the security investigation."

"If it concerns you, you will be told. Is there anything else?"

"No, sir." She hid her flinch at the Sub-Commander's sudden brusque tone. She didn't think it was outside her bounds and didn't expect to be treated like a grunt. She turned on her heel, hot and angry from the private humiliation. She left the office, the heavy doors swinging shut behind her with an echoing rumble.

"She won't tolerate being kept in the dark forever," Fuyutsuki sighed when they were alone. "Sooner or later she will find out about her daughter."

"Then sooner or later she will deal with it. Akagi knows where her priorities are."

"I'll let that be your headache then." He reached into an attaché case by his chair and produced two folders. "The freeze on Unit-00 is only a temporary solution. The Committee won't stand for a third of our operational force being decommissioned indefinitely. While they do have more pressing issues at the moment, so do we." He slid a folder across the desk.

"The Suzahara incident," Gendo said, opening the file. "What of the boy's family?"

"They've been relocated to Hakone where we can still keep an eye on them. Obviously they weren't told the details, just enough to know to leave it alone. All it took was pension for the father and medical care for the daughter. She lost her right leg during Unit-00's initial sortie."

"The public?"

"We're presenting the family's departure as a requested transfer brought on by the influx of refugees from Tokyo-2 after the Jet Alone incident. The city has been getting a bit crowded. They have no family or close ties here. It hasn't raised any concerns."

"How did it happen?"

"Let me see," Fuyutsuki said as he cleared his throat, nonplussed by the sudden shift in topic.

The Section-2 report recounted Rei's activities over the past two weeks. She began varying her pace to and from school, but not her path. On the morning of the blackout she deviated into the city's urban eastside which swarmed with refugees. Surveillance lost her in the crowd, only reestablishing contact once she surfaced back on her normal route where she fell into a deliberate pace, loitering near the crosswalk where Shinji found her.

"Section-2 lost them again when Rei led him to the fourth access tunnel in Sector K," Fuyutsuki read from the file. "Normally it wouldn't be a problem but with the auto-lock doors it was virtually inaccessible. By the time Section-2 reached the area from route eight the power was on and the Children were gone."

He flipped a page to refresh his memory.

"The forensics team found traces of blood and hair in one of the storage rooms, on the floor and the corner of a desk. The Suzahara boy was apparently pulled or pushed onto it headfirst."

"Was it cleaned?"

"Not as thoroughly as expected," Fuyutsuki said. "From a casual inspection nothing looked amiss but the evidence was clearly there. She didn't have a lot of time, but still..."

They both knew Rei was too smart and too well trained not to plan for such a contingency; this was not an impulsive decision. It made the lack of care more disconcerting.

"The body?"

"She exploited Section-2's blind spots to transport the, ah, parts."

"Parts," Gendo repeated.

"Our agents found twenty-six bones, including ten teeth," Fuyutsuki said, skimming over a few more pages. "The locations varied within the city but all were in proximity to Rei's routine daily movements. Only bones have been recovered, meaning she had some means of disposing or removing the flesh and muscle, as well as the fluid and internal organs. We're still searching. But we're sure they are from the Suzahara boy."

"Keep investigating." He rubbed his eyes behind his glasses.

"It's troubling that she didn't even try to use remote locations for disposal." He watched Ikari shift subtly. "Leading Section-2 on chases, flaunting her knowledge of the gaps in their surveillance, exploiting our defenses, committing crimes, all this time spent with your son… if I didn't know better I'd say she's goading you."

Rei hadn't tried to hide her increasing association with Shinji but aside from the time spent with him at school there were no visible changes in her behavior until now. They hoped assigning Shinji as Unit-01's sole pilot would instill resentment in Rei and discourage interaction. Even if that approach proved unsuccessful they never expected the current disastrous situation.

The gambit backfired, Fuyutsuki thought. "What is she thinking?" He closed the folder and looked at his commander. "Why not just question Rei directly? Or Shinji-kun?"

"Both would only be another unnecessary risk. Effect must take priority over cause for the moment."

Something in the tone caught his ear and he asked: "Is there something else?"

"Tuesday was the anniversary," Gendo said after a short debate. His eyes hid behind the shimmer of his glasses. "He didn't visit the grave."

"Shinji-kun?" Fuyutsuki asked carefully. "He didn't visit the last three years, either."

It disturbed Fuyutsuki on a deep, private level. He was certain Shinji would visit his mother this time. The proximity of the Memorial added to the reinforced estrangement with his father should have assured it. The combined weight of the war, Rei and his isolation may have proven too much. Katsuragi undoubtedly influenced the boy as well but he would eventually lose his significance.

Gendo was silent, looking off to his left. The towering windows at his back were filled with harsh midmorning sun. The mirror system lining the Geofront ceiling accurately recreated conditions on the surface, and along with the landscaping and artificial atmosphere drawn from the city it was too easy to forget where they were, what they were in.

"We have been caught unawares too often as of late," he spoke at last.

"Then perhaps," Fuyutsuki said, "it's time we subtract some of the variables."


Maybe I meant it.

Unit-01 sang around him. The electric current throbbing through it was an unrelenting heartbeat. Shinji could not clearly recall how he came to be inside it. Days passed since the last synch test and he spent the time in a state of troubled half sleep curled on his bed. That was how Section-2 found him when they entered his apartment to deliver him to NERV.

There was only a distant impression of violation at realizing they had access to his home, a sense of how he was supposed to feel. It was the same now, waiting in the cage during pre-battle preparations. His mind sunk into the numb pit that shielded him from the terror of impending combat.

He wasn't sure if he was asleep when the Angel alarm rang or if he ignored it. He knew he ignored the disciplinary sermon the Captain threw at him after he arrived. He apologized when it was over and promised to do better. It was the easiest way to make adults leave him alone.

I wanted him to leave me alone. I wanted him to disappear. I wanted to be done with him.

He felt stretched, his body expanding to fill the Eva up. His skin pushed against the cold armor. His jaw was heavy, his mouth sealed shut. The platform beneath his metal shod feet lurched. It locked into place below the catapult and his stomach tightened reflexively.

Mother made this to save people… what's the use of it now?

After a crushing trip through the lift he was on the city streets. An electric voice from the comm. directed him to where he had to be and he went.

What gives me the right? Why am I even in this thing again?

"Hurry up," Asuka's voice hissed over the intercom. "Wake up, Third. Get going."

He obeyed with minimal awareness, skulking along the streets as he moved into a flanking position. The rifle in his hands was a vague impediment on his mobility. He cleared another block and paused at a squat office building. Kaji said something to Asuka about being too fast or too slow. He couldn't hear properly.

I knew the table was heavy and wouldn't move. I knew how sharp the edge was.

He saw the Angel, a black striped disk stained on the sky. He set his gun against the crook of his elbow and waited for the reticule to flutter over the target.

No one's looked for him. No one's asked me anything.

The crosshairs turned red and locked on with a soft tone.

I knew Ayanami would take care of it.

His finger waited frozen over the trigger.

I wanted him dead.

He's dead because of me.

Three shots screamed across the sky from his right. The Angel vanished and Shinji heard Asuka huff in disbelief as Unit-02 ceased fire. A moment later her voice hitched as panic crept in.

"This is… a shadow? What is this?"

"Shinji-kun," Kaji said over the comm., "get to Unit-02 now."

He glided down the streets towards the red 02 blip on his radar, swinging his rifle in a slow arc to relocate his target.

"I'm not—I don't need help," she said tightly. Her breath was shallow.

"This isn't—"

"I can do this! Let me do this!"

Shinji was two blocks away when her voice collapsed into a tangle of frantic gasps, then broke off as Unit-02's signal vanished. He crested the final street and saw an umbilical cord being sucked into a sprawling black mass that was swallowing the city. Buildings sank at unnatural angles like crippled ships in the ocean.

He glanced up and saw the striped Angel stuck in the sky again. He snapped his rifle up.

"Don't fire," Naoko said quickly. "We can't risk losing Unit-01, too."

"What should I do?" Shinji asked. He watched the world fall away. Voices whispered in static bursts over the comm. "What about Soryu?"

"Fall back," Kaji bit out. "That's an order."


The crew indulged Dr. Akagi in her academic fetishism as she explained the MAGI's plan for salvaging Unit-02. Rei appreciated the use of that term; this was not a rescue mission, despite the Captain's sudden bout of parental concern.

She arrived a half-hour earlier after the freeze on Unit-00 was rescinded to assist in the operation. Rei knew it was only a matter of time before her eventual reactivation since Soryu seemed incapable of doing anything on her own besides failing.

Rei left the briefing area after waiting long enough to ensure no one had a use for her prior to the mission. Duty superseded consideration. In their minds her identity began and ended as First Child. It was their nature to cling to expectation and predictability. It allowed them to fall into the seductive comfort of routine without a reason to exist beyond the immediate. It let them suppress thought to the bare minimum required for survival, seeing the world through squinted eyes to obscure the wretchedness that composed their entire being.

That gave humans a sense of power over the world. If nothing changed they wouldn't have to change. Once that false perception of control was torn away the flimsy walls barricading a human's heart crumbled to reveal their true selves.

Suzahara lacked the patience and foresight to deny his impulses. She knew he would take the first chance for revenge he saw. Finding his home and luring him through the morning crowd to a NERV access route entry was effortless. He was physically stronger but untrained, and overconfident from their last encounter; subjugation proved no difficulty either. The only real work was keeping the bile down from touching him while she transported his body, and again as she bound his hands loosely enough to let him escape when he tried.

The school's furnace served as Suzahara's funeral pyre. Every day she threw another piece of flesh in its waiting maw, and every day its belly turned it to bubbling ash. She had to suppress the smile crawling under her lips thinking about the smog belching into the sky and drifting through the city where the rest of the humans breathed it in, filled themselves up with it. Filth sucking in filth.

Finding inconspicuous places to dispose of the rest became a game. She watched the mindless insects swarm the city; students on trams, adults strolling in the shadow of buildings and children playing in parks all unwittingly passed the leftover bones from one of their own.

Rei knew the Commander would discover her accomplishment and found herself unconcerned. The longing to see Shinji liberated from the shackles of humanity overshadowed the fearful obedience to NERV that defined her existence. Now there was just the desire, a maddening corrosive need surging through her and demanding action. It was worth any risk; she could be replaced or killed or shattered into a million pieces without regret just for the opportunity to free him. It was the sole chance she had to choose a meaning for her existence.

Subtle means wasted what little time she possessed. A tree branch bent under weight but could endure years before breaking. A swift, violent force would snap it in half. Shinji was broken, hanging by the last tenuous threads to the fetid world of hypocrisy and deceit around them. She saw it in his actions and behavior with others. He stopped attending school. He only left his apartment for scheduled appointments at NERV. He took meals at the base and smuggled out what he did not finish.

He was isolating himself, eroding the layers of emotional restrictions civilization forced onto him. Katsuragi was a regretful miscalculation but ultimately ineffective. That man's fairytales could not suppress reality forever. Such pretense was a speck of waste before the purity of hate she and Shinji shared in their hearts.

Rei travelled the cluttered platforms of the temporary command base, passing terminals with exposed wiring and heavy cords snaking over the floor. She found Shinji near the western edge, leaning on a guardrail as he looked out over what was left of the city and the Angel suspended above it. The area was cordoned off by unassembled equipment and supplies stacked high in large metal crates.

Rei approached his side to watch his profile. There was no sign of fear or anger or interest.

"He had to die," she said without preamble.

"Stop it," he told her without turning. He sounded indifferent.

"It was the opportunity we needed."

"Stop it."

"I have taken care of it. You do not have to concern yourself."

"Stop it."

"It will not matter if anyone looks for him. There is nothing left to find."

"Stop it."

Rei followed his gaze out over the dark void of the Angel, the remaining city buildings at its periphery jutting up like teeth.

"Do you suppose Soryu experienced death as he did?"

Shinji spun on her. His hands found her shoulders and drove her against a crate behind them. The impact sounded with a dull thud. She did not make a noise.

"I told you to stop," he said. His voice was low and uneven.

He kept her in place, breathing hard through his nose. Her face remained placid and unafraid. He pulled her close and she did not resist. Even through the plugsuit she was soft and warm. He pressed her flat against him until the contact was painful. He felt her, all curves and heat, her lips so close he could taste the bored exhalation whispering from her nose.

He needed her to react, to scream or cry or hit him or even blush, anything to make him know this was wrong. It would prove everything she said before was a lie, a game to torment him for being a novice pilot or the Commander's spawn or a boy or a human or whatever reason she latched onto. If she accepted this it made it all true. That she was the girl who led him into the insane red world of hate and death.

Shinji searched her eyes. She refused him any reaction.

He pushed her back as hard as he could. Rei hit the wall with a shuddering jolt, her skull striking the metal with a dull ring. The arms jutting from his body slipped out of his control into a comforting numbness as he watched Rei again be drawn to him and again be thrown back. Their bodies shuddered together in a steady rhythm, each thrust marked by a hollow crash that blanketed his ears from the rest of the world. Sweat slithered down his face, burning his eyes and wetting his lips.

Rei was limp in his hands, her head lolling back and forth with every push. Something frightening and violent ignited inside her, swelling and churning before suddenly exploding excruciating fire through her veins. She clutched his forearms and he froze while her body continued shaking on its own. Her head fell back, her eyes gawked vacantly into the sky, her face discolored with blotches of red, her mouth split apart in a silent halo. She suffered in blank submission until a final wrenching spasm tore through her body and her legs slipped out under her. Shinji couldn't keep her up and she sluiced into a pile of limbs at his feet.

"What—" He staggered back and pinned his hands under either arm. What did I do?

Rei remained splayed beneath him choking for breath. Sweaty hair clung to her head. He couldn't see her face.

Shinji knew he was supposed to run away from this—it was unknown, he did something bad—but his feet refused to comply. He stared down at Rei as she panted.

"What would be the point?" he whispered. The shame leached into the dark pit where the rotting remains of his other emotions welcomed it with greedy hands. "I run away but they make me come back. I hide but they find me. I hate them but they don't let me forget. Everything I do is useless."

I'm already the lowest. Nothing could make me any lower. So it doesn't matter what I do now.

"Attention," Maya's voice crackled over the loudspeaker. "Operations to begin in t-minus thirty minutes. All personnel report to your designated posts. Pilots of Unit-01 and Unit-00 report to the cage. Repeating: operations begin in…"

Shinji stared down at Rei.

"C-can you—"

His mouth twisted shut and he balled his fists. He didn't want to be nice to her. She made him scared, she made him suffer, she made him hear and see and do terrible things. She made him hurt her. It was her fault.

"Get up."

Rei slowly pressed her back against the wall and tried to push her body up. Her knees buckled and she fell.

A strange rush of anger pricked under his skin when she failed to do what he told her. She tried to do something he told her.

"I said get up."

She struggling to her feet and managed to stay on them. He left for the cage.

Don't run, he told himself as she hobbled after him. Don't run. There's nowhere to run to.


Nebulous jet streams painted the night sky in uneven white bars, dragging an unremitting growl of thunder behind them. The JSSDF bombers flashed once as they released their payload, a thousand points of light in the dark. The lights fell like glimmering shooting stars and filled the world with a heavy whine as they pierced the air.

Units- 00 and 01 stood facing one another on opposite edges of the Angel, awaiting the arrival of the plummeting storm of N2 mines. They gained definition and form with merciless haste, a dense flock of shade blotting out the heavens.

The mines plunged through the Angel's floating shadow and it vanished. The Evas' AT-Fields flared to life, directing the explosives to the abyss that swallowed Unit-02. The world lost all form as the mines released a brilliant inferno into the void, making it distend and warp like an angry sea. Jagged fissures mushroomed over the black surface and broke open to belch pillars of white fire that snaked into the sky. The AT-Fields strained and shook as the flames twisted together in a shaft of light that lit the sky like the finger of God.

The fire collapsed and the Angel was reduced to a vicious conflagrated wasteland.

"Blue pattern gone," Hyuuga reported tightly. "Angel is terminated, sir."

"Where's Unit-02?"

"I don't know. There's still no signal. Do you think—"

"Don't waste time with that," Naoko snapped. "Just find it."

She jumped slightly when Kaji swore at her side and saw Unit-01 scrambling out onto the blast site. The armor on its legs immediately began to bubble from the heat.

"Shinji-kun! What are—" The Captain slapped a palm on the console before him. "Stay in position! That's an order!"

The Evangelion slogged through the fiery pool of metal and stone that had been Tokyo-3. Its purple shell was scorched into a blanket of brown sludge.

"Should we cut Unit-01's power?"

"We have no means of retrieving it out there. We have to wait for Shinji-kun to do whatever he's—"

"Oh, God," Maya breathed, going pale. "Asuka."

Naoko leaned forward and strained her eyes, seeing only the molten sea of white fire. A wave of flame swelled and collapsed and she saw a sliver of discoloration. Shinji rushed past it in a flood of smoke and fire, and Naoko realized it was one of Unit-02's legs. Next to it, too far away, its right arm. Then its head, collapsed like a used candle. Shinji passed them all, wading through hardening ash, to what was left of 02's torso. He scooped it up and cradled it to his chest as its metal and tissue melted over his arms.

"Scramble the emergency coolant team," Kaji ordered.

Unit-01 stumbled past the edge of the blast zone in a mess of liquefied metal and burning flesh. It kneeled with the remains of Unit-02 and moved back as a squad of VTOLs swept in to shower them both with rapid-cooling foam. Hissing white steam belched above the city with billowing tendrils until air currents dispersed them and returned to blanket the earth in a pervasive saturating haze. From the command deck Unit-01 was a smudge of shadow.

"Retrieve whatever's left."


Shiro took a breath as he stood before the door. Though he questioned the wisdom of volunteering for this he did not regret it. He believed he was the best choice. He gripped his cane, opened the door, and stepped into the NERV hospital recovery room.

"Hello, Asuka."

Her remaining eye pivoted in its socket to him.

Everything was serene under the dull orange gloss of dawn fed from the windows. The floor was soft, the walls released from their prison bleakness. Metal surfaces wore lazy blushes. Harsh edges were blurred into welcoming curves. The ascetic room was made warm and deceptive.

There was just the bed, the death-cheating machines crowding it, and the girl amidst them. Only the right side of her face was free from the gauze shrouding her head and neck. She was left with a small patchwork of hair, a few isolated locks oozing onto her pillow in a limp heap. A small oxygen mask rested over what remained of her nose; a lump of cartilage lined the nasal cavity, the rest of the melted flesh excised to clear her air passage, along with a portion of her upper lip. The body hidden beneath the sheets lacked a right arm, severed at mid-bicep in protection of her head. Both legs were burnt down to the muscle, destroying the nerve endings; amputation was less a possibility than a recommendation.

The medical report told of third degree and deep tissue burns in addition to extensive loss of tactile sensation. Reconstructive surgery and prosthetics would make her presentable, physical therapy would make her mobile, but that was all the help they could offer. It was a miracle she even survived. Shiro hoped she didn't ask for a mirror.

"How's Unit-02?" Her voice was raspy but even.

He took a moment too long to reply and she narrowed her naked brow; the eyebrow was burned off.

"Don't look at me like that," she hissed. She paused as she struggled to swallow. "It's just my body. I don't need it to pilot."

"Asuka," Shiro began, "the damage to Unit-02 was extensive."

"Then you're wasting time here if you're going to fix it."

"Of course we're going to fix it but it will take quite a while. All you should worry about now is resting and—"

"Kaji stopped by before you," Asuka said.

"Did he?" An icy finger trailed down his spine.

"He said NERV abandoned Unit-02. He said it was beyond repair." Her eye never left him. "Which one of you is lying to me?"

His mind shuttered and there was nothing but darkness in his head. His tongue was a wet slug smothering every word. He stared at her in silence.

"Pathetic," she said, and clenched her eye shut. "Stop playing the concerned parent. You suck at it."

"I admit I might not be the most adept at…" Shiro felt his collection of empty platitudes slip away into the blind periphery of his adopted role. He lost focus between what she wanted to hear and what she needed to. "I'm not playing. You know I care."

"No one cared when I beat the last Angel. No one cares when I do anything right." She was breathing hard. The ventilator clicked angrily. Asuka turned her head sharply to face him and her bandages shifted, uncovering a patch of skin by her mouth scorched to a craggy range of blistering red irritation. "You all expect me to do this, and then remember I'm an actual person when I screw up. How many more limbs do you need me to lose before I prove myself?"

"You have proven yourself. I—"

"Don't lie to me again. You've never treated me like a pilot. Every time you apologize or act guilty about sending me out to fight you're spitting in my face. You're saying I'm too weak to do it. Have the spine to follow through with your job."

"Asuka, I never meant to offend you. I only wanted to help. I wasn't diminishing your importance."

"Of course you were! I'm a pilot! I'm a soldier! What is wrong with you?" She bit down over her anger. "I'm not a robot like the First you can order around without feeling guilty, and I failed to satisfy your daddy fantasies like that brat the Third. I'm not a freak like them and you don't know how to deal with it."

Her eye trembled, wide and wet. It shimmered in the dawn light.

He understood the hostility; her body was inconsequential compared to the loss of Unit-02. NERV may keep her close for security reasons but she would never pilot again. Her life no longer had any direction or meaning. What was left for anyone when their delusions of importance to the world crumbled?

"I'm sorry," he told her.

"Sorry?" Her face turned placid for a breath before twisting in fury. "I am Soryu Asuka Langley! I am the Second—" She froze. Her mouth drifted shut and she turned away from him. All emotion bled from her voice. "I don't need your pity and I don't need you. Get out. I'm sick of you. I'm sick of everyone. Don't ever come back."

He left. The door slid shut. He lurched a step to his right and fell against the wall.

Shiro knew he coddled Shinji. He knew he exploited Rei. He knew neither was right.

Right and wrong were pebbles on his path. Easily passed over without a need to determine which was which. To keep the destination in focus he could not look down and he could not look back. Asuka was lost and there was nothing he could do. He couldn't waste any more time on her. The world was depending on him.

Shiro straightened and left the hospital with his head level.


End of chapter 9

Author notes: I can't be the only one who's wondered what would have happened if Unit-01 didn't break out of Leliel before the mines hit. It was cooler in my head.

I planned to feature Asuka much more in this story but after Rei went sickhouse I had to prioritize. Thus, the copout this chapter. Also, working towards my goal of mutilating all of the Children.

Next time: further proof I can't write Kaji, a mediocre-at-best action scene, and the last moment of intentional levity.

OMAKE

"Alright, people," Naoko called out over the chatter clouding the tiny storage room, "take your seats. We need to get this rehearsal underway. We're running way behind schedule as it is. The director was self-medicating again and the sponsors are getting restless."

"Which means it falls on us to pick up the slack and save this project," Kaji sighed. "As usual."

"You expected anything different?" She sat on a cheap folding chair before a several cardboard boxes that served as their new table. The rest of the cast assembled around her, picking up their poorly Xeroxed scripts. "As you can all see the production budget was cut again, resulting in our new décor."

"And the battle scenes we had planned were all but cut," Fuyutsuki added. "They're nothing but rehashed character interaction and rambling internal monologues now."

A series of angry groans circled the table/box.

"Regardless, we have a job to do. Let's begin." Naoko cleared her throat and began reading. "Episode 9: Narcissus—"

"Pretentious."

"Can we just do this? Thank you. Scene one. Interior NERV hallway. Shiro is—"

"You have got to fucking kidding me."

"Asuka! What are you… are you reading the end already?"

"I wish I hadn't. Look at this crap. I get mutilated and burned alive." She threw her script on the floor. "First I'm relegated to a secondary cast member, then I get my ass handed to me during my debut battle, and now I'm effectively dead. This is bullshit and you know it."

"Yeah," Shinji spoke up as he skimmed ahead. "When I read 'sex scene with Rei' in the prerelease packet this was not what I expected."

"How many times must I be assaulted?" Rei asked.

"Why would I care if my wimpy, ungrateful kid failed to visit my hot wife's grave?" Gendo wondered.

"We don't have any creative input," Shiro tried to explain, ever the brownnosing ACC. "It isn't our place to question the—"

"Shut the hell up. You should be the one missing a couple limbs and sporting a melted face, you cowardly, lying, egotistical, daughter-killing blowhard. You're not even a real character. You don't have a soul."

"I resent the not real part."

"People! Focus! We need to—"

A thunderous alarm cut through everyone's bitching.

"Oh, no," Naoko muttered. "It's the Deus ex Machina alert. The author's abandoning a plausible character-driven resolution for a quick plot device to end this!"

"Not again!"

"I'll never be in another story!"

"Wait! Maybe we can still—"

And then Third Impact happened and everybody died. The end.