Published 2020.12.04
Disclaimer: I don't own Evangelion or any associated properties.
Notes at the end of the chapter
Chapter 1: Luna
He let go of her neck and began to sob bitterly. He could not decide what to think or feel, lost between the realization that he wasn't alone or trapped in a dream anymore, and the terrible, hopeful premonition of what this would mean for him.
He gasped for air as acid crept into the corners of his eyes. An echo of her touch lingered on his cheek; he could feel her warmth with his thighs, painfully reminding him of what he had almost extinguished forever. A despairing rasp escaped his throat, and slowly he hunched over, sinking onto the body below him.
She stared into the starry sky, but was unable to focus her gaze. Her field of view was curiously diminished, and her senses only sent unclear messages; everything was vague and nebulous. The outside world had to stand back behind her inner turmoil, as piece by piece, everything returned.
An indistinct tension grew stronger and stronger inside her. Everything seemed so clear and ineluctable, yet still almost impossible to grasp or understand. Confronted with absolute truth, torn between the urge to allow the insight to take hold and change herself, and the reluctance to truly accept what seemed undeniable to her, her mind failed to reconcile wish and reality. Her face stayed completely blank as long as she lay there, while her chest tightened into a knot. Slowly, feeling returned to her limbs, and finally, the tension became unbearable.
She looked down at Shinji. He cowered above her, his hands placed upon her shoulders, convulsing with sobs. For just one moment, this pathetic sight tore her from her thoughts, momentarily lifting the haze in her mind and bringing a single feeling to the fore.
"Disgusting." Her voice was completely cold, betraying no sign of her upheaval. Maybe she could have borne it if she was still alone, but just looking at him stirred up memories of what she had seen and felt in the dreadful hell of Instrumentality, this forced melding and laying bare of all spirits, this brutal and unnatural defilement of her innermost being.
Eventually, Shinji grew quiet. His body warmth slowly permeated the fabric of her plugsuit, his smell filled the lukewarm air. A mixture of LCL, old sweat, and unwashed hair.
With every breath she lifted him up a little, had to work against the added weight on her chest. She didn't want to admit it, but there was something consolatory in the intimacy of their situation. Far away from rational deliberations and objections was something primeval, something natural, in direct opposition to the artificial connectedness of Instrumentality.
She could feel his breath, his bones and muscles, his heartbeat – an ancient rhythm, a drum in the darkness.
The fingers of her right hand squirmed, grabbed a handful of sand and rubbed it against her palm. It was as if she was seeing the night sky for the first time; as if she had been blind to the innumerable tiny lights, which were bustling even in the dark splotches between the brightest stars and seemed to disappear when her gaze held steady for a while, just to reappear when her eyes made the tiniest of movements.
And somewhere, between the infinities of the distant stars and the cold grains of sand, there was life. Flesh and blood and a mirror, assuring her that her thoughts were her own again.
There, there was calm, comfort – and sleep.
A chilly breeze came from the sea and ruffled Shinji's hair. Hesitantly, he raised his head. Asuka held her eyes closed. Her mouth hung open just a tiny bit, her breathing was shallow. Immediately he sat up and took his hands off of her, raising them up apologetically.
Something squeezed his stomach as his gaze scurried over her bandages.
Asuka's lids parted. Her eye rolled downwards in its socket, deigning him a deprecatory glance. Why couldn't he just lay still. Now her chest was growing cold.
"I'm ... I'm sorry! I ..." The words got stuck in his throat. Those that had escaped were carried off by the rushing of the waves.
Asuka looked back towards the stars.
Shinji hung his head.
Nothing had changed.
Absentmindedly he raised himself, grazing her legs with one foot as he turned around on the other. Just a few feet away, he came to a stop. Defeat evident in his posture, he looked towards the horizon.
The blood-red sea shimmered in the moonlight, calmly sending waves towards the beach. Black mountains and islands stretched out to both sides, following a wide arc and disappearing behind the horizon. Near the beach, a few forlorn buildings clung to their life in awkward balance. Far out in the sea lay the giant, bisected head of Rei, completely white, except for her red eye, studying him with an enraptured gaze. Somewhere on the land behind the crater, her giant arm rose out of the reddish mist. The fingers of her hand reached for the stars, breaking through the thin veil of clouds slowly drifting across the night sky.
This was his world – he had created it.
He was the king of the wreckage.
Shinji's movements had made it impossible for Asuka to just lie there and resign herself to her fate. The cool night air woke her up, forcing her to think about what would happen next. What had just been so pleasant gave way to unease.
She sat herself up, tucked her knees under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. With a dreamer's unquestioning detachment, she noticed the two petrified white Evangelions standing in the shallow water - like giant crucifixes, holding out their arms to welcome her. The red glow emanating from the sea, mixing with the deep blue of the night sky, created a violet transition at the horizon. Except for the calming murmur of the sea, no sound reached her ears.
Her eyes were drawn to the missing sleeve of her suit - white bandages shrouded her arm instead. She raised her hand, beheld her fingers emerging from the white cloth covering her palm.
A dreadful notion rose from the back of her mind. Hesitantly she curled and stretched her lean digits, until she felt satisfied that they would still obey her commands, even though some numbness remained. With a low sigh she looked straight ahead again, only to notice a blurry shape close to her face.
The proximity gave her pause, until she realized what she was seeing. A moment later, her hand jerked towards her brow. There, she found a bandage and a thick gauze pad covering her eye. Her fingers slowly slid down, discovering the surgical tape holding it in place.
Still unable to truly focus, she tried to pull it off - all she wanted was to be rid of this annoying obstruction - but she couldn't catch the tape with her thumbnail. Finally, she managed to get a hold of the strip, and swiftly pulled it off her cheek. The pad was only loosely held by the bandage now, and she tugged it off. For some reason, she felt it wise to keep her eye closed still.
She searched the fabric for traces of blood, but it was completely clean. Slowly she raised her head, and then she opened her other eye.
Nothing changed.
She blinked - and did it again. Twice. But her field of view was still restricted. Reluctantly she closed her healthy eye.
In her left, all she could see was a tiny, reddish point of light.
The pad fell out of her hand and her gaze went dull. Coldness crept over her limbs and face, and she began to tremble. She closed her eyes once more and opened them again, but the darkness in her left remained.
And suddenly she knew again why she did not dare to open it before. Just as the realization sank in, her heart struck a terrible beat - then it seemed to stop entirely.
Frantically, her fingers searched for her wrist, tried to feel her pulse. She didn't find the right spot; her tendons and her suit were in the way. Her hand shot to her neck, searching for the place where Shinji's fingers had dug into it, and finally she felt her blood punching wildly against her fingertips.
She clenched her lids shut, trying to calm her racing heart. A soft, stinging pain erupted from her eye and brow and jolted to two points at the back of her head. It all came back to her then. How could she have forgotten? How could she ever believe that she -
Something crunched in the sand and her head spun around. Shinji had taken a step towards her and, instinctively, she tensed.
"Asuka ... your eye!" His voice was barely a whisper. His lips started to quiver and his throat went dry as he beheld the results of his inaction. "I'm - I'm sorry! I -" His eyes darted towards the sea and the beasts, then back to her.
Her mouth opened, then she furrowed her brow. Her teeth clenched, her nose crinkled. Slowly, tensely, she rose. With balled fists she moved towards him, her face nothing but a grimace.
Shinji stood frozen in place, until her face was mere inches away from his. The horrible appearance of her bloodshot eye made his stomach turn. Red had consumed all the white and bled into the ring of blue. Caustic liquid rose in his esophagus, and he bowed his head.
"I'm sorry!" he forced out. Her glare seemed to burn into his forehead, and Shinji stumbled backwards a few steps to escape her crushing presence. Asuka towered before him, unflinching in what he knew to be utmost condemnation, as he continued his protestations of remorse.
"You shouldn't have let go."
Her cold and bitter voice sealed his lips instantly. Shinji fell to his knees; his hands grabbed the fabric of his trousers, in a desperate attempt to keep some semblance of control.
Slowly her expression changed; anger gave way to disgust, and finally she moved her stare to what once was Rei, a silent accusation in her eyes.
Shinji wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, unable to stop his sobbing. "I'm sorry", he whimpered one more time.
Asuka turned around and left.
Her steps fell irregularly onto the sand, leaving behind shallow footprints. The beach she walked on followed a long curve. There were no clam shells or seaweed, no bird droppings or any other sign of life. The fine sand was completely smooth: an unnatural display of perfection.
After a few hundred meters, she stopped and listened. Nothing to hear, except the whispering of the sea, and yet, Shinji's crying seemed to follow her still. Unconsciously, her hand went to her stomach, and with a frown she got moving again.
She couldn't gain any distance. Every step brought another haunting memory with it, all of them conspiring to drag her back down to where she came from. More than once she felt as if she was sleepwalking, when the vision in her good eye darkened as well, and her thoughts took over completely.
Eventually she couldn't force herself to go on. On its own, her hand reached for her stinging eye. Her fingers curled, clawing into the bandage on her brow. Part of her wanted to be rid of it; be rid of that stupid, useless eye, that would only ever show the last and final thing it saw, over and over again; that would never see sunlight or swaying grass or bright white clouds again. That beautiful eye that would never again stare back at her from the mirror.
Unconsciously, her right hand went to her stomach, holding it tightly, and she hunched over a little. More pictures flashed in front of her eyes as she squeezed them shut; a wild menagerie of innocent and cruel memories, and over and over again the twin tips of the spear which brought the darkness.
"Just leave me be!" She forced the words through her teeth, and in sudden anger, she hit her forehead with her fist, right above her damaged eye. At first she felt almost nothing, but after a few hits the pain was stinging so badly she was seeing stars. Bitter bile rose through her throat, making her writhe. She tried to take deep, regular breaths, as she had to fight down the urge to vomit.
When she succeeded, the barrage of images assaulting her had also died down. In its place were only the views and smells and sounds of the desolate beach, and the aches of her battered body.
The wind picked up, and a strand of her hair fell in front of her face. Gently holding it in place, she sniffed it. It smelled of LCL and a hint of shampoo, but not her own. Its fragrance reminded her of the hospital.
With a deep sigh she hung her head. The LCL in the saltwater had not made it breathable. Her hair was dry, so she must have been back for hours – wherever here was. The absurd thought that she had been transported to hell entered her mind, and was dismissed just as quickly. Letting her gaze wander confirmed that this was still Japan - or what was left of it.
Not a single pebble lay on top of the sand. Billions of tiny grains, one just like the other. The few that differed in color almost disappeared in the sea of white - red and blue abnormalities.
To her left the beach became a dune, while dark mountains rose in the background.
To her right there was only the sea.
In front of her nothing but sand.
After staring at her feet for a few minutes, she suddenly became aware that her heart was pounding in her chest again. Her breath became ragged and fast, goosebumps began to cover her skin.
"Enough!", she pressed out. "It's enough already!"
She bit her tongue, but the memories kept coming.
She clutched her head, but the voices didn't stop.
A sound reached her ears, and she realized she had begun to scream - but her thoughts just wouldn't listen, no matter what she said.
Shinji had hunkered down on the beach, watching the ever changing but steady play of the waves. He had heard Asuka slowly approaching for some time. He closed his eyes, unable to keep his shoulders from tensing up. He realized again that uncertainty tormented him most. That was just an excuse, Rei had said. But an excuse for what?
She had almost reached him now, and on pure instinct he tried to make himself as small as possible. All he dared to hope for was that the punishment she had in store for him would be over quickly.
Her steps stopped right behind him. For a long time, nothing happened – until something touched his shoulder and made him flinch.
"Let's go."
Shinji sharpened his ears, but other than the faint resonance of her hoarse voice, he couldn't hear anything. He opened his eyes and looked to his left.
Long, thin fingers were lying on his shoulder, and retreated as he began to turn around. He lifted his gaze and followed her slender form upwards as she straightened her posture, trying to read her expression.
Asuka stood upright, her gaze lost somewhere in the distance. After excruciatingly long seconds, she looked down to him, but the look in her eyes was missing its usual edge; it had given way to something else. She regarded him intently, then abruptly turned away again, leaving Shinji to stare after her.
Only when she had moved a good ten paces did he scramble to his feet. When he had almost reached her, she stopped and turned to face him, bringing him to a sudden halt.
Shinji looked down towards his feet. His right hand curled into a fist and released again. "I ... I have found … a place", he whispered. The words felt unfamiliar to his tongue: he had not spoken this much in a long time. "In - in the mountains. There's water and ... something to eat."
"Then lead." An undercurrent of impatience ran through her voice.
Shinji chewed on his lip, overcome with sudden trepidation. His fist clenched nervously, as he already doubted the wisdom of his offer. Slowly he turned around, towards the mountains on his left. Eventually he gave her an almost imperceptible nod and began to walk.
After a moment, Asuka forced herself to follow him.
They had a long walk ahead. Asuka soon caught up with Shinji, and he led her over the dunes and across the ruins. He knew the trail, having walked it every day. Her presence drove him forward, while she followed him in deep brooding, paying no attention to the destruction surrounding her.
Only the most massive buildings still stood. White stone debris - boulders, gravel and sand - covered everything. They had to take constant detours, bypassing patches of loose, muddy earth and hills of debris. Glass and rubble crunched under their steps. Fires must have burned some time ago, as the air still smelled of soot and charred plastic. A wooden house, almost intact, had been swept up and turned on its head by the flood wave – a seemingly impossible accident, which almost turned the grotesque scenery farcical.
Silently they paced over ever rising ground, away from the giant crater that was left in the wake of Third Impact. Up here, small depressions and pits were still filled with red water; the rest had receded already. After about one and a half hours they reached the foothills of a forested mountain range. Of the trees themselves, mostly trunks and stumps remained, while some had been ripped out of the ground entirely.
Shinji followed a half-buried road, which led them into a valley spanned by three damaged highway bridges. Beside the road, a small stream gurgled in its rocky bed, made up of the same white stones they had seen before. Fine dust hung in the air. It made their eyes feel grainy and left the taste of iron in their mouths.
After following the road for a little while, they found themselves in front of a long apartment block, which had been built in an artificial recess in the mountainside, a brutish example of post-Second-Impact architecture. The massive concrete walls had even withstood Third Impact, even though most windows had been blown out by the explosion.
Shinji searched his pockets until he found the key, evidence of the age of the building. He turned it in the lock, gripped the door handle and leaned back. His weight was just enough to pull the door open against the resistance of the damper.
As soon as Asuka had pushed past him, he slipped inside himself.
When they finally arrived on the fourth floor, they were both completely out of breath. In the darkness, Shinji felt for the keyhole of one of the nearby apartment doors. He fumbled with the key, needing several tries before managing to unlock it.
In comparison to Misato's spacious apartment, the flat was tiny. Shinji had cleaned the place as well as he could, sweeping shattered glass, dust and debris off the balcony. He had spanned bed sheets in front of the windows and the splintered glass door leading to the balcony, which let in some moonlight but held back the wind. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink, the kitchen table was battered, and a broken chair lay in one corner, along with empty cans and other trash. Without a word, Asuka went past him and collapsed into a chair, leaving Shinji uncomfortably unoccupied.
"Do you want to ... Are you hungry?" He spoke softly, glancing at her from under his fringe.
Asuka shook her head.
Shinji nodded. He felt the urge to say more, but he could find neither the words nor the courage to do so. Asuka was blankly staring at something invisible beyond the wall, seemingly no longer aware of his existence, while his senses refused to focus on anything but her.
He felt his chest tighten. Even as subdued as her presence was, it was still too intense for him to withstand. Every breath she took made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up; every second that passed carried with it the danger of him becoming the target of her attention once more. He knew what lurked beneath her deceptively calm surface; the bitter molasses of what remained unsaid leaked into the air, making it too thick to swallow.
He took a few careful backwards steps. Asuka didn't seem to notice. Still on his toes, shoulder close to the wall and never letting her out of his sights, he retreated into the dark hallway. After a few steps, the space to his right opened up, leading him to the bedroom and the safety of a closed door.
Shinji's absence only entered Asuka's mind with great delay. She vaguely recalled seeing him disappear out of the corner of her eye and, overcome with sudden urgency, she went after him.
A sturdy looking wooden door blocked her path. Her hand reached for the handle, hovering over it for a moment, before retreating again. Shaking her head, she turned on her heels and went to the balcony.
There, she leaned over the railing. A cool breeze rustled the trees, stripping off leaves and blowing her hair in her face. She swiped the strands back with her bandaged hand, held them behind her ear, and stared silently into the night. If she concentrated enough, she could count the tiles of the pavement, three floors beneath her. In the diffuse moonlight, everything seemed grainy, as if shot on old film. How high was a story? Three meters?
The steel of the railing dug into her stomach. Vague memories of her stepmother and her father came to her, making her bare her teeth. Stepmother had been afraid of her, and Father had abandoned her. She didn't want to see either of them again. Or anybody else, for that matter. She wouldn't be able to bear being in their sight. Nobody would be able to take her seriously ever again; not after they had taken a look deep inside of her.
She straightened herself, and her gaze was drawn towards the ocean shimmering in the distance. The night was almost over; the coldest hours approached. It was still relatively mild, but to her it felt icy.
She let go of the railing and fled back inside.
The couch in the living room was comfortable, but sleep would not come to her. Visions and dreamscapes of Instrumentality occupied her mind's eye, refusing to fade, making it almost impossible for her to focus on the reality surrounding her.
For almost an hour she tossed and turned.
Eventually she stood up, swiftly crossed the apartment and found herself in front of Shinji's door again. This time, she opened it a tiny crack. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness and the sun was close to the horizon, so she could faintly make out Shinji's silhouette on the small, western style bed. He was lying with his back towards her and seemed to be asleep.
Reluctantly she opened the door far enough that she could barely fit through the gap. She cursed under her breath when her suit hit the frame and squeaked. Making sure that Shinji still wasn't awake, she closed the door behind herself and tiptoed towards the bed.
Shinji lay entirely still. For minutes she just stood there, watching his faintly rising and sinking chest. He seemed so small. So harmless.
She closed her eyes and slowly let out a deep breath. Nobody was around. Nobody could possibly see her. Opening her eyes again, she shot a glance towards the door, then took him in once more. Her brow furrowed as she made her decision.
Carefully, so as not to wake him, she laid down besides him. Back to back - and without contact. She wanted to draw the blanket over herself, her body demanding the familiar warmth and comfort, but decided not to. Her lids felt heavy, and yet as if they would never close.
Asuka was rudely woken up as something hard hit her back and tried to bury itself in her ribs. She rolled out of the bed and came to her feet. Light was stinging in her eyes. She didn't remember falling asleep, and it felt as if she had been unconscious for mere seconds.
Turning around, she saw Shinji thrashing wildly in his sleep, yanking back his elbows as if trying to fight off some invisible attacker, grinding his teeth so hard she could hear the screeching when they scraped on top of each other. It made her own teeth tingle; a sound like nails on chalkboard.
When he began to moan pained, unintelligible pleas, she couldn't stand by any longer. Grabbing one of his wrists she tried to yank his arm and shake him awake, but Shinji didn't budge. Instead, his free hand almost hit her square in the face. Glowering at him, she catched his other wrist and swung herself over him, planting one knee on either side of his hips. He strained against her with surprising strength, and she needed all of her own to keep him restrained.
Suddenly his eyes shot open, and he pulled himself into a sitting position, almost topling her over. Whatever terror had gripped him seemed to linger, until recognition dawned on his face and he froze.
Asuka tentatively let go, but didn't lower her guard.
Shinji closed his eyes and fell back onto the mattress. He covered his face with his arm and bared his teeth – it looked like he had to fight the urge to cry.
Asuka felt her facial muscles relax somewhat, and with a deep sigh, she sank down, resting her buttocks on his thighs. She let her hands fall into her lap, and by doing that, onto his trousers as well.
Shinji ripped his arm away from his face, pushed himself up on his hands and wriggled out from underneath her, as far as he could.
When she looked up and saw his ungrateful, panicked expression, she climbed out of the bed, threw the door open and stormed off.
The incident wouldn't leave her mind as she paced in the kitchen. Feeling her frustration growing, she pulled out one of the chairs and sat down at the table. Her fingers drummed on the surface, and entirely unbidden, her bladder signaled that it needed relief. She tried to ignore it, unwilling to be disturbed in her brooding, but eventually, the pressure grew too strong.
She went to the bathroom and was about to shed her plugsuit when she paused.
She pressed the lever to flush. Except for the hollow sound of the mechanism, nothing happened.
With an angry curse she grabbed a roll of toilet paper and set out for the long way down the stairs.
In the daylight she noticed that everything was thinly covered by red dust. Almost imperceptibly it floated down from the sky, giving even the sunlight a red tint. Dead foliage drifted over the dusty street. The leaves of some trees were brown, while others had already shed theirs completely. The sun was still singeing relentlessly, but she could have sworn that it was a little colder than before Third Impact. She took a moment to take in the strange scenery, tasting iron on her tongue, then she got moving again with a head shake.
Behind the house she looked around, reassuring herself that nobody was watching her. Instinctively she closed her eyes as she activated the air intake of her suit, as if she would become invisible by doing so. She opened the clasp on her collar, and the pack attached to the back of the suit dragged it off her shoulders. She felt incredibly exposed as the air cooled her sweaty skin; yet curiously enough, not around her midsection. She opened her eyes a little to see what the cause was – and that was when she noticed the bandages.
She hadn't felt them, but only because they seemed to blend in with her skin in the wet heat of her suit. Held in place by surgical tape, they started on her pubic mound and reached all the way up to the bottom of her breasts. The bandage around her arm reached up over her shoulder and was slung around her chest from there.
Her thoughts went to her last battle immediately, and they would have stayed there, if her bladder didn't painfully remind her of its existence. Hurriedly she stepped out of her suit, closed her eyes and squatted down.
The relief helped her only a little bit with her feelings of disgust and shame. She used the toilet paper, felt around for her suit and struggled to get inside. Only when it fit itself tightly to her skin with a hiss did she dare to open her eyes again. She raised her right arm, expecting to see the small display showing her life signs and the suit's remaining charge.
Of course, that specific sleeve had not grown back overnight.
Grunting a curse, she went back to the flat.
Back in the living room, she collapsed onto the couch. A low-slung table stood in the middle of the room, two sitting mats on either side. She crossed her legs and put her hands behind her head, letting her foot bob nervously. Then she stretched her right arm straight ahead and opened her hand, as if she was grabbing something out of the air. Her gaze lost its focus, the bandage turning into white smudge as her arm began to tingle. Slowly she closed her fingers again and let her forearm come to rest on her eyes. Moving her hand to the back of her head, she tried to breathe deeply, in an effort to push the memories back down. Involuntarily she grit her teeth, clutching her head so much that it hurt.
"I've got fresh clothes for you."
Shinji's softly spoken words ripped her from her thoughts. She moved her arm off her eyes and onto her brow. In his hands he held carefully folded garments. She shot him a short glance, then she looked away.
"I'll stay like I am."
"I - I understand. Do you want to ... want to eat something?"
She shook her head. "I want ..." She trailed off and stared towards the ceiling. Her jaws clenched; her expression grew tense. A thousand things she didn't want came to her mind, along with countless reasons why she shouldn't be here. Eventually she closed her eyes and gave herself a shake.
"How long have you been here?"
"I don't really know. A week, maybe."
Asuka needed a moment to understand the implications. Her time inside Instrumentality had felt no longer than maybe an hour – or an eternity. Her only goal had been to leave that place as fast as she could, and that she did.
Apparently not fast enough.
"Have you seen anybody else?"
"No."
Asuka massaged her brow with her thumb. Her bandage felt damp.
"Maybe it's for the best", she finally said. "If it's only the two of us, I mean."
"Yes, we are ... you are ..." Shinji's voice was quavering.
She stopped her movements. Then she turned her head towards him, looked directly into his eyes and contorted her face. "Damn ... just looking at you ..."
Shinji averted his eyes, clenched his fist and opened it again.
Asuka frowned. "You'd prefer it if somebody else came back."
Yes, that was what he wished for. He just didn't know how to handle her. He had seen and felt her memories and feelings, but he didn't know if those were real or just his imagination. For a moment he even thought he completely understood her, but Misato interrupted him. Or his perception of Misato, anyway.
An old photograph came to his mind. He and all his friends were in it, and everybody was smiling - himself included. Toji had slung his arm around his neck, while Asuka had laid her hand on his shoulder, showing the devil's horn with her right hand, both proud and supportive of him. Even the bridge crew was there, including Fuyutsuki and Ritsuko. Only Misato looked somewhat skeptical, possibly because Kaji leaned into her and was touching her hip. She was always so shy with him around. His father was luckily absent, so that nothing disturbed the pleasant, happy atmosphere.
Unfortunately, nobody had ever taken this picture.
He noticed Asuka still fixed on him.
An honestly meant, melancholic smile blossomed on his face. "I'm so glad to see you again."
Asuka held her gaze a little while longer, then she looked away. "You're a bad liar, you know that?"
Shinji's smile died.
She sat up and pulled her hair behind her ears. "Whatever." She rubbed the base of her nose. "I'm hungry."
"I ... I have to search for firewood." Shinji lowered his gaze.
"Then go. And hurry." Asuka laid back down and turned her back towards him.
After a moment's hesitation, Shinji nodded and left the apartment.
As soon as he was out in the open, he traced a circle on the palm of his hand with his finger. The skin had been discolored there, after the spears had hit him. Now there wasn't a single trace of that to be found. And yet, her eye was ...
Pushing away the implications, he glanced down the street and got moving.
In the daylight he could already see from a distance the car wreck where he had found the apartment key. It had been tucked in the clothes of the driver, left behind when his body was dissolved. The man had been a foreigner named Nathaniel Pollard. In his wallet Shinji had found a few bills, the man's address and a picture. It showed a young woman standing behind what must have been her daughter, hugging her from behind. Only then had he realized which consequences his choices had on the real world.
He later buried the clothes at the side of the road. He had stumbled upon the apartment by mere accident after he followed the road for a while and recognized the address. Staying there was as good as anywhere else; there was no point putting more distance between himself and the beach. He couldn't escape its pull anyway.
It must have taken a few days after that before he erected the graves on the shore of a small lake filled with LCL-stained water. At first he had tried to keep track of time, but after five days, everything became a blur, and he gave up. He cut all the names of people he knew into the wood – every single one he could remember except one: Ayanami Rei. Then he nailed Misato's cross to one of the poles and went to the beach one final time.
His plan had been simple: He would just go into the water and wake up back in Instrumentality. That way, he could at least warn the others not to return. Instead, he almost drowned and washed up on the beach by accident again.
And then she came.
His pace accelerated. She had told him unambiguously what she thought of him: she'd rather be dead than in his company. It really could not get any clearer than that. So why did she come back to him? Why did she follow him to his shelter? Was she already thinking about how to hit him the hardest? Did she just intend to raise him up a little so that his fall would be all the more painful? His heart stung at the thought of her never giving him what he wanted.
"Idiot!" he scolded himself. Whatever Asuka wanted to do to him, he deserved it. He had forfeit his right to happiness, that much had become clear to him upon his return. Egoistic needs and desires didn't appertain to him, much as he didn't deserve a long, peaceful life where he eventually learned to live with himself. The realization still stung; but there was no way to deny the truth, no matter how painful it was or how hard to accept it seemed. He had to come to terms with it, one way or another. He was not allowed to run away any longer.
Wiping his eyes he climbed on top of a mountain of rubble, looking for wooden debris he could use to build a fire. He had to be careful not to hurt his hands, as he hadn't found any medical supplies yet.
He wasn't doing this for himself; he was doing it for Asuka. But maybe taking care of her was pure egoism as well. It made him feel better. It allowed him to forget the world he had created. He was simply fulfilling a selfish need.
He sighed deeply and hung his head. As much as he tried, he just couldn't fathom the extent of his actions. Never before had a single human being dissolved all of mankind and irreversibly changed the world forever. How should he handle that? Where could he even hope to begin? Concentrating on Asuka amounted to not much more than trying to escape his guilt, but abandoning her was just as bad. The only decisions left were the wrong ones ...
In frustration he threw another piece of wood onto the street behind him. To his left he could see the burial mound, and behind it, in the distance, Rei's petrified head, still smiling at him.
"What should I do?" he whispered towards her.
She didn't answer. She never did.
He returned carrying a heavy load of wood and went directly to the balcony, not willing to start a fire in the flat itself. Asuka stood at the railing, looking towards the sea. She must have been standing in the sun for some time: her hair looked damp around her ears.
"About time." She didn't even turn around.
Without comment, Shinji started to build his fire. He crumpled a few pages of a newspaper into little balls, piling up the wood on top. It took a few tries to get his lighter working, but soon a small fire was crackling.
Asuka had meanwhile taken a seat close to the wall. He could feel her eyes on him as he gathered his ingredients, a small wok and a pot, and carefully avoided looking in her direction. Using the pot and some bottled water to cook some rice, he took extra care to hide his last can of meat from her as he opened it. The label said it was pure corned beef, but to him, it smelled like dog food. He was sure she wouldn't appreciate the smell either as he sat on his heals and emptied the can into his wok.
Gently roasting the meat with some salt and pepper took care of the worst stench – it even became somewhat appealing. He heard Asuka shuffling behind him – then she stood up and moved close to him. So close that her legs were almost touching his back. He was sure he could feel her body heat, and couldn't help but grow tense as she leaned over his shoulder to take a look at what he was cooking.
"Will it take long?"
"Uhm … It's - it's about ready." Shinji stirred the contents of his wok a little too nervously, sending a small chunk of meat flying into the embers.
Asuka's stomach grumbled, and she finally backed away again.
"I'll be waiting inside. This heat is unbearable."
Asuka shoved another big morsel into her mouth. While chewing she glanced at Shinji, who was eating much more hesitantly, watching her every move with intense nervousness. A flicker of irritation colored her expression, and she focused on her bowl instead.
"You know", she mumbled with her mouth full: "You always had a talent for cooking." She swallowed and raised her head slightly, carefully observing his reactions. "And playing the cello."
Shinji's eyes shot up in utter surprise. A second later, he looked down, failing to hide the hint of redness on his cheeks. "I'm glad you like it", he mumbled. "I know it isn't much and ..."
Asuka furrowed her brow, then she held out her bowl for him to grab. "Just give me seconds."
He eagerly obliged and hurried to the balcony. Asuka used the moment to take a deep breath, but her frown had only lifted slightly when Shinji returned.
"Here!" He dabbled with conjuring up an insecure smile while he handed her the bowl. "Please enjoy your meal."
Asuka tried to grab the bowl but she miscalculated a tiny bit, hitting it with her fingertips. Shinji nearly let go before she managed to get a hold of it. She tilted her head slightly, carefully rubbing her left eye. Moving much slower than usual, she took her chopsticks from the table.
Shinji fidgeted in his chair as she took another few hesitant bites. The air had just become much harder to breathe.
Asuka stilled her movements. "How does it look?" she asked quietly.
"Uhm ... what do you mean?" Shinji once again avoided looking at her, folding his hands in his lap instead.
"What do you think?" She dragged her eyebrows lower. "My eye."
Shinji looked up for just a moment, before averting his gaze again. "It's red."
Asuka nodded grimly. "Like Rei's?"
He shook his head. "No, uhm, it is still blue, but ... the white. It's red now."
"So, it isn't so bad, is that what you're trying to say?"
Shinji stared at his hands. "No, it's ... it's ..."
"So it is bad?"
He didn't have it in him to look up.
Asuka's gaze buried itself in his forehead. "So?" A dangerous undertone rang in her voice. She slowly resumed eating without letting Shinji out of her sights. With his eyes hidden behind his fringe, he seemed to shrink before her; even his breathing had grown shallow.
Suddenly the food seemed absolutely tasteless to her. She placed her chopsticks on top of her bowl, holding it in front of her chest with both hands. She straightened out, leaned back a little and focused on her bandaged hand.
"Well ... pity ..." she whispered.
Shinji visibly tensed.
She held her half empty bowl out over the table, then she let go. It hit the tabletop with a bang; the chopsticks jumped off and clattered to the floor.
"Get out", she hissed.
Shinji jumped up and disappeared.
Asuka angrily rubbed her forehead, which had begun to sting again. Then she stood up and threw herself onto the couch. The bandage around her head had become loose and annoyed her, so she ripped it off. It got entangled with her neural connectors, and when she finally managed to get it off she carefully felt for her brow. There was a small indentation on her forehead which hadn't been there before.
For a moment she held her fingers still, then she punched the headrest.
The acoustic alert of her suit woke her from a hazy nightmare. She needed a moment to recognize her surroundings. The sun had already set and Shinji was nowhere to be seen. The suit beeped urgently once more, then its tension disappeared and it expanded. Its energy reserves were entirely depleted. She had apparently miscalculated how long they would last. Maybe the damn heat was at fault.
Asuka sat up and opened the clasp on her collar, and the suit slid from her shoulders. Her skin, moistened by her sweat, immediately cooled in the night air, an incredible release after the ardor inside the suit.
She looked down at herself, then she shot a quick glance towards the kitchen. Holding up her suit, she snuck to Shinji's door.
It was closed. Again. She listened for a moment, then she slinked back to the living room. Standing right in the middle, she let go of her suit. After pulling her legs out of it, she pushed it away with her foot.
Gingerly she examined the bandages on her stomach. The skin below felt numb, but even when she pressed down harder it didn't hurt. Absentmindedly she ran her hands over her body, making sure that everything was still in place. As if on their own, they came to rest on her breasts while she silently stared out of the window.
Forcefully she tore her hands away. The clothes that Shinji had brought her still sat on the table. She dug through the pile, throwing away whatever didn't please her. There was no bra to be found, even though Shinji had, of course, managed to find panties. With an angry glower she grabbed a pair of shorts and a mauve shirt and got dressed.
Once she was ready she whirled around, ran through the hallway to his room and threw the door open. She found Shinji curled up on his bed, muttering in his sleep. She came closer, planted herself in front of him and leaned forward.
She was just about to shake him awake – but then she let her arms hang loosely at her sides instead. She bit her lip and slowly turned around. With her head hung low, she shuffled back to the living room, sat down on the couch and stared blankly at the wall.
It was over. It was finally over. There was no point pretending any longer. She had lost everything. Neither was she a pilot, nor useful for anything else. She couldn't even be looked at anymore! Her failure had literally been burned into her forehead. For a long time, she just sat there, unable to believe what she had become.
With an angry scream she shot up, balling her fists in impotent rage, unable to verbalize the thoughts filling her mind with red mist: Everybody had betrayed her! Everybody had used her! Everybody had been better than her! Everybody had been more important than her! And everybody had made decisions for her!
Her father, incapable of being something special himself, who had paraded her around like a trained monkey, who had got off to her successes, who had only married Mama to bathe in the glory of her name; Kaji, who had preferred to hand her off to that skank Misato over taking care of her himself, who had used her as a lever to pry open Misato's legs and laugh at her while he stuck his cock into all her disgusting, alcohol-drenched holes, who had sucked up Misato's stinking breath and drank her putrid outflow as if they were nectar and ambrosia, only to then never show up again and explain himself;
the people in charge of NERV in Germany and the commander in Japan and his geriatric, senile surrogate, for whom she was nothing more than an easily replaced cog in the machine; Rei, who had followed every order so perfectly, who even beat her at that sordid, ridiculous charade she had to play with Shinji; Rei, who, completely fearlessly, viewed even death as just another part of her job; Shinji, Shinji, the invincible Shinji, the prodigy, who always was the deciding factor, who didn't even need to waste a thought on his talent, who didn't even recognize it because it knew no bounds, and was supported by his Mother always holding his hand, who rose faster and better and higher than her, while she fell apart because of a failed kiss; Shinji, who was coddled and cared for and was tearfully missed for a whole month, who wasn't even sent to help her, while she was forgotten about for a week and left to rot in a rusty bathtub in her own piss;
Rei, the only one worthy to be smiled at by the commander, who always got the secret missions, who was even allowed to handle the spear, but only after they had proven once and for all how useless she herself was when fighting Arael; Ritsuko, who was allowed to treat her like a lab rat, who in her perversion was even allowed to turn the camera in the corridor back on while she had to walk naked to a synch test, whose orders she had to follow even though she was nothing but an old embittered dried up hag; Father and Stepmother and everybody else who had complete control over her life, who used lies and phony praise and made-up degrees to set her on her path and controlled her every step;
Misato, who had dared to chastise her and meddled in the way she fought, begrudging her the taste of victory, who had never even asked her how she was, because she always cared for Shinji more; all the people who conspired to take Mama away from her; Rei, who had ripped her from her mother's arms and the claws of a hero's death against her will; Shinji, whose mere wishes were orders to a god, who got to decide the fate of the world while she – while she hadn't even been asked, not once! Nobody had ever asked her what she wanted; she always had to fight and scream and beg and lie just to get her tiniest wishes fulfilled and she still never got what she wanted! It was always her who had to compromise and share, who had to adjust and forsake her dreams, just because somebody else wanted it that way!
She hated them! All of them! She hated, hated, hated them!
She stood there, balling her fists and barely able to control her trembling, desperate for something she could hurt, when she suddenly had a terrible realization. There was one thing she had decided and which had truly mattered in the end. Free from constraints and obligations, she had made her choice and granted herself one single, profound wish: she had rejected Shinji when he had begged her to save him. Because he was useless to her! Because he deserved to be hurt! Because she hated him! Because it was her right to refuse him! Because he wanted to use her! Because he wanted to force her to love him! Because it wasn't her responsibility to bear his burden! Because he had disappointed her too often! Because he was never there in time. Because he could not give her what she wanted …
Only when his hands had closed around her neck did she realize just how deeply her words had cut, how desperate he was. Then she had seen it through his eyes: his whole life. To him, it was like she had pushed a knife into his stomach and now indifferently watched as he bled out in front of her.
He just didn't want to die. But with her words she had added the last links to a chain made out of bitter disappointments, crushed hopes and broken dreams, now heavy enough to drown him.
He had hoped that she would understand him, because he had realized that she was just like him. Despite everything, he had believed in her.
But she had not comprehended that. She had just wanted to stubbornly enforce her will, and she had failed. Like always and at everything. And because of that, Shinji had taken the whole world with him when he finally fell.
Maybe he already had suspected it when he came to her in the hospital. Maybe he had subconsciously realized back then how it would end, who she really was: a pretty, callous doll, good for nothing except to be used and stared at and admired from afar.
Nobody would do that ever again. What had been admired was Asuka: a lie, a facade. In truth, she was nothing but deception and weakness and childish egoism; she understood that now. But if she were to give up on that lie, then nothing would be left of her.
Then Asuka would die.
"I don't want to die", she whispered into the silence.
She grabbed the table. Her teeth scraped on top of each other, a small piece of one of her molars splintering off.
"I don't want to die!" she screamed, and with all her might she sent the table crashing into the shelf in front of the wall.
Shinji sat upright in his bed, holding his knees to his chest and listening while Asuka laid waste to the living room. He didn't dare to go to her. He would do it tomorrow morning. He definitely would. Maybe it was foolish, but he just had to do something. Too often had he refused to act, too often had he been too late. This time would be different - he just needed a little time to steady himself. He told himself that, even though he didn't believe himself.
He would still do it. Definitely.
Shinji had already been waiting for her for hours by the time she finally entered the kitchen in the late afternoon of the next day. He had prepared everything; he went over everything he wanted to say countless times.
The sight of her caused another wave of stinging compassion in him. She had heavy bags under her eyes, her face was pale, her hair was disheveled, and she still wore the clothes from the day before.
Grimly she sat down at the table in strained brooding.
Shinji clenched his fist and opened it again. He closed his eyes for a second, then he gave himself a push.
"Gu- … guten Morgen!" He had worked on the pronunciation for a long time, hoping it would please her.
Asuka ignored him.
Shinji began to falter. She must have taken it as a bad joke. His whole plan seemed very unwise to him all of a sudden.
For a moment he studied her, then he slowly turned around, looked back insecurely one more time, and hurried to the balcony.
He returned soon after, a steaming bowl of noodle soup in his hands.
"I've got something for you!" He tried to sound as uplifting as possible and even managed a fleeting smile.
"Great." She didn't look up. "I don't want anything."
Shinji lowered his head. He took a deep breath, then he stepped carefully towards her. "But you should -"
"What?!" She jumped to her feet. "I should?!" Her harsh voice tore through the silence, her finger stabbing angrily for his chest. "You don't get to tell me what I should do!" she screeched. "Nobody gets to tell me that!"
She punched the bowl out of his hands. Only by sheer luck did she not scald him, and the contents splattered on the floor, sizzling but harmlessly. She stared darkly at the steaming puddle - then she heard him grinding his teeth.
She cringed. For a moment she remained frozen, then she lifted her gaze and stared at him, full of ire.
"What?" she pressed through gritted teeth. "Want to strangle me again?"
Shinji looked at her, anger in his eyes and breathing heavily. "Asuka, please -"
"Come on, do it. You almost succeeded twice already!" She took a step towards him and pushed him away with her palm. "Or do you lack the balls to try again?! Afraid that I'll punch back for once?! Scared to be hit by a girl?!"
Shinji stumbled backwards, getting louder himself. "Asuka, stop it! I just want to help you!"
"Help me?!" She clenched her eyes shut while screaming. "I don't want your help!" She spat out the last word as if it was poison.
"But I can do it!" Shinji's voice rose to a scream. "I want to do it!"
"You can?! You want?!" She looked as if she was about to bludgeon him. "How'll that work out?! Like in the volcano?! Or like you helped me against the Evas?!"
"That's not fair! I did want to do it! But everything was full of Bakelite and soldiers and I couldn't get into my Eva! I wish I -"
"Will you do it again?"
Her voice was suddenly very quiet, and Shinji froze.
"What you did in the hospital?" Her face was almost expressionless. "Come on, go ahead. You don't even have to lock the door this time around. Nobody will interrupt us."
Shinji went pale as a pit formed in his stomach. He had hoped that the Asuka in that particular dream had been his imagination. His gaze shot up and found her eyes, and those removed any doubts.
Petrified he stood, captivated by the sight of her. All the beauty and fragility, in her big, world weary and discerning blue eyes, her naked feet, her lithe hands and slender shoulders, forced to carry too much too early – it wouldn't let go of him, and when his gaze traveled over her thin shirt and what it covered, and below that the place he had never seen with his own eyes but still remembered, his body betrayed him. Desire tainted his compassion, seemed to mix with and amplify it, drove him to want to touch her and make her feel better somehow, to erase all the injustice she had suffered, while crushing guilt and shame paralyzed him and left him helpless.
He didn't notice when anger and disgust marred her features once more.
"What's wrong?!" she barked. "Do I have to be unconscious first?!"
"I ..." Shinji croaked. "I'm so sorry! Everything ... everything I did -"
"You absolute idiot", she hissed. "You didn't do anything!"
"But I couldn't do it!" he desperately screamed. "I wanted to do it, but I just couldn't! Everything was full of Bakelite! I wanted to help you, but the Evangelion, Mother, she was ... I heard – I heard that you ... I ... I wanted ... I couldn't! I just couldn't! I wanted to be dead!" Trembling, he stood before her, not really noticing her anymore. "I know that you hate me! I hate myself for it! And you hate me because I'm so weak! Everybody hates me for that! And there is no excuse!" His voice almost cracked when he shouted his last words. "But I'm still here! And I know I need to change myself! I won't run away! If you hate me, that's alright, I deserve it! If you want to hurt me, or kill me, that's okay as well! I can't change the past, even though I'd like nothing better than to do just that! But I have to bear the future, no matter what! Maybe I don't deserve this chance, but I will take it! I don't care if nobody loves me! I don't care if everybody leaves me! I will not -"
Asuka's fist hit his chest and he lost his breath. He didn't have any time to realize what was happening before she had reached him, clutching her hands around his throat. Desperately he grabbed her wrists, tried to get her off of him, lost his footing and fell, dragging her to the ground with him. His head hit the tiling hard, and for a moment his eyes lost their focus. His legs thrashed about wildly, but her grip was iron.
His strength was leaving him. He tried to say something, hoped that she would see the pleading in his eyes, but she didn't let go.
His vision blurred; everything started to grow dark; white stars danced before his eyes. His whole field of view was filled by her contorted face and a veil of red hair. Blood built up in his head, the pressure hurting his ears, numbing his hearing, and making his eyes bulge.
His fingers refused to obey him any longer and his grip went slack. Desperately he fought against the darkness.
Suddenly the pressure in his skull disappeared. Air streamed into his lungs again, whistling in his throat. He rolled to his side, curling up on the floor. He couldn't stop coughing and struggling for breath. He still felt like he was suffocating, and his throat burned like fire.
A horrible scream pierced his ears and he winced. Two hands hit his shoulder and his arm, grabbed him and tried to throw him around. Her terrible wailing shook him to the marrow.
He curled up even tighter, trying to free his arm, holding his head protectively with both hands.
The hands clawed into his arm and Shinji tried to stop moving. His breath was shallow and rapid; he almost didn't get any fresh air into his lungs, pushing the spent breath up and down his throat. Desperately he clutched his head, pressing down as hard as he could with his arms.
He was sure he wouldn't get a second chance.
This time, he would die.
Fingernails dug deep into his skin. A fist hit his back, and then, suddenly, the hands pushed him away. Dull pounding on the floor, moving away. A shuffling sound, wood being dragged over wood. Dull pounding again. The sound of a door handle, another scream. Then one final loud screeching sound and the slam of a door being thrown shut.
Then silence.
Shinji didn't dare to move.
Slowly, he started breathing again, harder and harder, until he felt dizzy. The tension in his body loosening a little, he slumped on the floor. His grip on his head grew weaker, but still, he held his eyes tightly shut.
Intently he listened, until the tiling began to hurt his shoulder. Besides his breath, there were no sounds.
Still on his side, he opened his eyes a sliver. All he could see was a tiny spot of the floor, between his knees and elbows.
He lifted his head, pushing it out between his arms. His field of vision widened, showing him the kitchen floor and the legs of the table and the chairs, oddly turned sideways ninety degrees.
Without lifting his legs from the ground, he twisted his back until both his shoulders touched the floor. He turned his head to the right. The sliding door between kitchen and hallway stood halfway open.
Warily he pushed himself up. Again he sharpened his ears, but not the faintest sound reached them.
He sank back down on the floor, rested his arm on his forehead, and took a deep breath.
Asuka was gone.
He was alone.
The realization made his stomach cramp and forced him into a tight curl.
He was alone.
Asuka was gone.
Thank you very much to everybody who read or reviewed this! I really appreciate it, and I really mean all of you! (You do have a point, BigFloppa; I most likely overdid it with the elipses and the stuttering.) I'd never expected to get so much feedback in such a short amount of time - or that Scar Tissue senpai would notice me. O.O I will definitely continue this - I'm a pretty slow writer, but I aim for at least one chapter a month. Might be more, might be less, so no promises.
Many thanks to a certain someone who had to listen to my endless ramblings, and provided invaluable feedback and knowledge in return. Thank you as well to my prereaders! I wouldn't have published this at all without you. To all of you and the reviewers: I'll take all your feedback into account, as I'll definitely do rewrites at least once - or twice - or thrice. For now, I want to push the story forward first.
