Interlude 1: Two of a Kind

That was not Asuka Langley Sohryu.

It couldn't possibly be her. She was the same, every single time he met her: brash, bold, beautiful; a battering ram of fragile confidence who would bash aside any barricades he had built in his heart (not that there were many left for her at this point). Her consistency allowed him to craft the actions he needed to take to overcome the walls she had built – allow her to bedazzle him with her piloting (an easy task, no matter how much better he was than her now), defeat Gaghiel together (he could do it in his sleep at this point), then celebrate afterwards (ensuring she got the accolades). He had done this many, many times, and had their "introduction" down to an art form, a performance that he had played through and perfected. It was as predictable as waking up in that room lifetime after lifetime until it became a second nature – Asuka did not change, and he knew the steps to reach her.

There had been many experiments (and abrupt, painful endings – Gaghiel's teeth were sharp and not a pleasant way to meet a restart) through which he had learned that Asuka didn't respect timidity yet did not react well to being surpassed. A delicate balancing act was required, one where he would play moon to her sun and reflect her brilliance, but illuminate her when she could no longer do so herself. Or perhaps more fittingly he was a celloist to her lead violin, where she would have the spotlight but know it was all because he was there, providing supporting harmonies to ensure their performance was beautiful.

Watching her in her element, seeing her confident smirk, or hearing her laugh in victory were all things that made him smile with his heart.

Of course, he had managed to formulate his aims with these reruns: work with Asuka to save the world; and to stop his lunatic of a father and the bizarre organisation that was SEELE from unleashing their monstrous versions of Instrumentality. Simple enough, yet it had taken him quite a long time in figuring these goals out after floundering in his early lives. Back then he had been a ruin, cracked and crumbling and unable to be brought together at all. He had been recovering from a broken Instrumentality as a broken boy, and countless early existences had met abrupt, painful ends in a dull and repetitive fashion (sometimes at the hands of angels, sometimes at the hands of humans).

However, after a brutal slaughter by the insidious Akagi where she dissected him with hands that were razors and eyes that were scalpels, he had awoken with a girl's faint voice calling to him, a voice that that spurred him to repair the damage he had wrought on the world and on himself. He had felt a drive within him that was old and new, something that was his will made manifest in himself along with the voice of something else, a thousand past Shinji's crying out and demanding he "fix it and save her."

He had no idea where that first female voice had originated from then, and he still didn't know now. But he knew that it reflected the chorus of Shinjis since he had started this journey that had hitherto never had a destination. It helped him get some semblance of a life together, one where he started properly fighting the angels, and one where he communicated with his mother in the Eva, building those neural bridges each time with a woman whose connection was cool silk on a warm day, and whose words were cinders in a snowstorm.

Perhaps that voice had been the ghost of Asuka, shrieking at him from a dead beach where throats had been broken open with crying and red tears had leaked into a bubbling ocean that stank of blood.

After this enlightenment of purpose had been achieved, he had spent his lives sorting out everything that had brought him low. His feelings for Rei (learning to stop the shaking and awkward silences with her; letting themselves breathe as he stroked her hands or held her close; understanding the blood that flowed in their veins was the same; how their hearts would forever beat out of synch but in time); understanding how NERV, SEELE, and his father worked ("conspiracies within plots wrapped up in schemes," the helpful Fuyutsuki had called them, a game of chess between them and another lesson for another lifetime spoken in riddles and fragments in the air); how he could help Misato prepare for her downward spiral (a twinge inside his heart for every can he replenished for her; a coiling in his gut for ensuring her bed was empty at night as she wept for a man who's smirk could warm her; a tightening in his throat for those toxic kisses as she floundered in the aftermath of abandonment and death). It had taken time, but he had made his peace with them all.

All of these achievements paled into insignificance when compared with Asuka.

Because there was one other goal he had – he wished to replay Instrumentality, feel it within and without himself this time, and use the rebirthing of humanity to wash away his sins in the sea of LCL at the end of the world to get forgiveness from Asuka. An Asuka who wouldn't be hurt by the Angel War but would rise above it and be the triumphant woman she deserved to be. And he would finally, finally, be able to get the courage to completely tell her how he felt about her – how he had always felt about her – through the medium of Instrumentality where there were no barriers anymore. Perhaps she could learn to love the new Shinji too, the one who had fought for so many years to become the man she would want.

But the Asuka that he had met was completely different this time.

Even before she had met them there had been something slightly off. An almost imperceptible haze around those eyes which was never there before. She had stood on the deck of the Rainbow - not leaning forward into the sunlight so the rays bounced off her flowing red hair, but to the side and in the shade where the warm breeze had not been so strong, a sculpture rather than a beacon. And that was nothing compared to how she had looked at him when she had greeted their party. To call the smoulder in her eye's hostile would be to do it an injustice – the heat in her eyes had tried to reach out and strike him dead on the spot.

He was used to dislike or suspicion from the Second Child when they met. Murderous rage was completely new.

The strange behaviour had continued throughout the day. Asuka's panic attack when asked about the bruise above her left eye (the same eye that had been skewered in the time of his greatest weakness and failure – of course it would be that eye) really stood out, as well as her exhibiting knowledge of her mother was in the core. Shinji could not for the life of him figure out why she would know that (she had never made the connection without his insights), nor why he had somehow managed to cause such a reaction in the girl.

And then what the hell was that during their heightened synch in the berserker state?

It had been a flash more than anything. There he had stood, astride a cowering red-haired child: a vicious, cruel, predatory thing with ferocious fangs in place of teeth, his dark blue eyes glinting in red-drenched starlight. It had not been a long vision – mere seconds before he was shown Kyoko's memories of Asuka's first birthday - but it had enough. The teeth from Predator Shinji had gleamed and glistened, and his heart had stopped beating for the duration; an alarm going off in his brain that something was very, very wrong.

But what?

They had not said a word to each other since they had landed awkwardly on the deck of the Over the Rainbow. It had been a brittle silence, jagged glass that cut at his nerves and sheared through whatever semblance of composure he had after the bizarre day. The dead air between them had continued even as Misato had rushed over and hailed their victory; continued even when they had disembarked and Kensuke and Toji had met them on the docks, cheering and celebrating as they always had before. And whilst Asuka had been her usual, boisterous self throughout this time when she had chatted to the others, she had not said a word to or about Shinji.

And yet, despite this silent treatment, Asuka would glance at him periodically, prickly as a hedgehog and piercing as a hawk. It had left his patience in tatters, and he had not bothered to speak much to either of his friends or Misato beyond necessities as a result.

Fortunately, they had separated the Pilots not long after disembarkation – Asuka going with Ritsuko whilst Shinji had gone with his friends and guardian. As the other boys had chatted excitedly and then proceeded to pass out, lulled into exhaustion by the movements of the jeep and from the day's excitement, Shinji had stared out the window of their vehicle as it grumbled along the road.

What could be going on?!

Something sinister slithered into Shinji's thoughts; something so monstrous, so vicious he couldn't believe he had thought it at all, and yet it remained there, a slimy seed festering away.

Could it be that somehow Asuka was an angel?

Could it be that instead of sweet Kaworu Nagisa as the carrier of the Seventeenth Angel, SEELE had instead taken a clone the Second Child and sent Tabris within her ahead of schedule? He had heard of the vast vats beneath NERV Berlin, places dark and sinister and hidden, where SEELE hatched contingencies against contingencies, and where a thousand Kaworu's, Asuka's, and Shinji's were all brought to life in different ways and manners to suit different desires and goals. All similar, all dangerous, all broken and unusable. But perhaps…

Shinji shook his head. Fuyutsuki had mentioned all of these and more in their chess games, but the septuagenarian had also explained that attempts to clone Asuka and combine her with Adam or Lilith usually ended poorly. "Violent and untenable" had been the exact phrase used – whatever that meant. This was backed up by the fact that in none of his lives he had been forced to fight Tabris as Asuka, or himself, or as Rei – the angel was always in beautiful, tragic Kaworu's body.

Besides, there were other possibilities beyond a Tabris-Asuka – ones far more likely but just as bad. This time around he had been particularly brutal when he killed his angelic foes. Shinji knew that despite the best efforts of NERV's bloated security apparatus reports and videos of his behaviour had spread out across NERV. It was not a difficult to see, despite words of admiration in the cafeteria, that Kaji had also had a slight hint of concern in his mannerisms. Asuka had only had her panic attack when he had tried to speak with her – perhaps both of them had seen some footage of his (in hindsight) ferocious fight with Ramiel and been alarmed at the idea that the one responsible was seated right next to them.

He hoped not. But it would be just his luck that the one life where he thought he had done everything right (he had made the right connections at NERV, ensured his father didn't catch onto being gently undermined, continued Misato's alcoholism to ensure she didn't notice his absences) would be the life he had terrified Asuka into anxiety attacks because he had wanted to blow off steam after a rough fight.

He had never dealt with an Asuka who was terrified of a dangerous Shinji before – mostly because he had never been overly violent before. Maybe those gentle touches, secret smiles, and homecoming meals he had perfected over would be helpful in allaying her fears, letting her put them aside along with the anger of her past, perhaps resting them upon their shared mantlepiece as they one day looked back on the photos of this time…

Don't get ahead of yourself Shinji. Hope must come after success.

Finally, there was the possibility that somehow either his father or even SEELE had gotten to Asuka –the most likely option. Perhaps he had expressed too much interest at an inconvenient instance, said the wrong thing to the wrong person, or even just had his practice of German overheard at the wrong time. Either way, the idea that somehow his interest in the Second Child had caused something bad to happen to her lurked in the back of his mind – and, if she believed he was responsible for whatever things they had done to her, his usual methods would be unlikely to get her to open up to him.

If only he knew other to win her heart.

In many ways she was like a crystal statue, radiant in the sunlight and burning those around her with her brilliance, but shattering under the right pressure or a push in the wrong direction. He had many such lives with the wrong push, those scars visible only at night in the light of the moon, pale scratches on his soul when his tears tore the wounds open again, only for them to vanish in the morning light. And now that he thought he had found the correct way to move this priceless artefact to where he wanted her, she had, in her usual, insufferable, spectacular way, completely changed herself on him.

These unknowns made him itch, and his hand clenched and unclenched with that nervous tic he had never quite got rid of. What to do, what to do, what to do?

Perhaps all this would just mean he would have to try harder; find out what had and continued to cause Asuka to act unusually, then move to fix it. It could be that simple. As the jeep they were in passed a surprisingly garish "Welcome to Tokyo-3" sign, Shinji knew he would get to the bottom of this Asuka mystery and help her become the best version of herself so that they could end – and rebuild - the world together.

Then again, maybe it would all be in vain: another crystal idol in pieces, another performance cut off too early, another invisible scar to join the others. He would watch her be cut to pieces as her light would die again, and he would follow and repeat the cycle.

So much to think on, so little time to mull it over (oh the irony of that statement), so all he did was grunt and tried to follow his classmates into oblivion.

The Shinji Ikari who fell asleep alone was not a happy boy.

The Gendo Ikari who woke up alone was not a happy man.

Then again, he had not been a happy man for a very long time. The light had permanently gone out of the world when Yui was swallowed by the Eva those many years ago, that soft smile on her face directed at their son the last thing he had seen of her. Then there had been bright lights and warning signs that liquified his wife and left him alone in the world, with a terrified and terrifying son who had screamed for his mother until the voice cracked and pierced something in Gendo's chest.

He despised that day.

So it was always with a painful sense of irony that Lilith had sent him back to the day after Yui had been absorbed. Every failure he would wake up, hear his son's howls from the next room – horrid, hoarse things that were thinner than the paper walls in their apartment and would never fail to rip holes in his heart. Even after so many centuries (even someone as methodical as himself had long since given up the attempt to count how many exactly), Shinji's cries had hurt like they always did.

He knew Lilith was behind his repeats. He had figured that out some time ago, in the dead of the night in Terminal Dogma with Rei oozing out from his arms into a mess of LCL, her form collapsing under the weight of his sins. Rei's watery voice accusing him of failing, informing him of Lilith's abilities and goals, Lilith's wish to see him save Yui. Rei's crimson eyes damning him for his failures, his inability to utilise Instrumentality correctly, for failing to fulfil the promise he had made after his first visit to that desolate world after the apocalypse.

Therefore he had steeled himself against Shinji's whimpers and had sent his son away again. And when Shinji had returned some ten years later he had been his expected broken, pathetic self – a mouse masquerading as a maturing man, perfect prey for the sharp instincts Gendo had honed for this very purpose. The sortie against Sachiel went as well as would be expected – blood and a mother's rage, and a shattered cityscape that was reflected in Gendo's mirrored glasses.

But then things had gotten unusual. His son had somehow changed after the battle, becoming surly and withdrawn as expected, but with a nasty edge that made him ferocious against the angels. It also made the boy unpleasant and unpredictable to deal with. Not enough to warrant a disappearance yet (something he had only had to use a handful of times against Shinji), but enough to ensure that Shinji's file was now constantly near the top of his "to read" pile at the end of each day.

And if these reports on the Second Child – a damaged narcissist with no history of public breakdowns beyond violent outbursts at whatever threatened her ego – were correct that she had a panic attack upon meeting his son where correct, then something was clearly amiss.

Why were things starting to look unusual now, if he had done everything right?

It didn't make sense – Shinji should be a cowed and broken boy, not an angry and apparently dangerous individual. Gendo had been confident the teacher he had sent Shinji to live with had been a nobody, raised in the tattered traditions of Japan before the Second Impact who would help stunt Shinji enough to make him pliable enough to be useful. Gendo had found that family, no matter how distant, still gave Shinji some sense of ego and belonging, so he had hoped this stratagem would pay out this time. He needed Shinji broken – it was the only way things would work.

Or perhaps he was still afraid of his own son after all this time. There had been several lives where a stronger-willed Shinji had engaged in patricide (cobalt eyes shining or burning, "How dare you keep her from me?!", the fist of a monster crashing down), but even in lives where that had not happened, various uncles and aunts and cousins and relatives he had long since forgotten about would somehow manage to give Shinji the strength to continue, to defy all things and simply annihilate the plans Gendo laboured so lovingly over. Thus he chose an old-school, strict teacher that nobody really knew…

Was the teacher unknown?

The man had been recommended to Gendo by Fuyutsuki, but who knew where the professor had gotten the name from. Although Gendo knew from experience that the sub-commander's loyalty was with Yui, there was a chance that SEELE had somehow given Fuyutsuki the name, or had found the man later.

SEELE had never used his son against him before. They had sent his clones– both as an aid and as a hinderance (with always laughably bad results – Shinji as Tabris was simply pathetic) – but usually Shinji had been left alone, considered by SEELE simultaneously too important to mess with as well as unimportant enough to ignore. He had circumvented that little issue by ensuring that only the clones of Kaworu Nagisa were viable several lifetimes ago, and he had repeated that process again this time. So if SEELE had decided to turn his son into a weapon, Gendo knew it would only have been because of the teacher.

And just because something had not been done before, didn't mean it wouldn't be done this time.

It would be pointless to question the teacher – either he was with SEELE and therefore wouldn't provide anything useful, or he wasn't and therefore couldn't provide anything useful. Furthermore, SEELE would immediately be suspicious if Gendo started an investigation, regardless of their involvement. He would need to speak with Fuyutsuki at some stage and determine where the older man had found his son's caretaker. It would not be good to discover that Fuyutsuki had been blindsided so late in the game – the ramifications were dire if his trustworthy second-in-command was compromised.

Regardless of how, something had clearly happened to Shinji, something that Gendo, for all his planning and awareness, had not seen. Gendo's stoic face, hidden behind his steepled hands and shining glasses, twitched. He could see it now: Shinji, covertly trained by SEELE, turned into a weapon against his own father and mother, and Gendo completely unaware that it had happened.

The twitching intensified.

But there was nothing concrete to be done. All Gendo could do was be unhappy, at least for now. He would wait and watch. If anything started to deviate more than was to be expected, he would act accordingly.

He glanced at a picture of Unit-01, slightly aside from the file it was part of. Its narrowed eyes glared through him from the photo, its jaws shaped in a snarl.

I miss you too, Yui. Soon we will be together, my love. Soon…

A/N: Monthly updates applies to chapters – interludes will appear once I have done them (in their correct order however), just to keep you all on your toes if no other reason.

As always, feedback appreciated – whether technical or otherwise. Thank you for the thorough feedback currently received – all of your thoughts and ideas are engaging and allow me to re-examine my writing from other perspectives. They are appreciated.