Apart.
That broken face, smiling, wide-eyed and unblinking.
The moon was full, bisected by the arc of red that lanced from horizon to horizon.
The stars glittered in an indigo sky, pinpricks of white against the beautiful backdrop. Clouds drifting softly by, barely thick enough to obstruct his view of them.
The pale white ground that would move and give like tightly packed sand, but most certainly was something else.
And the 'water', the top of buildings peeking out in the distance as the liquid glittered and sloshed about from the shore to as far as his eyes could perceive.
The world left behind by the Third Impact; Track 26 ended and moved to 27 with a near inaudible click as the world continued turning.
The wire of its accompanying headphones was wrapped around the SDAT player, the pair lying a half mile away from its owner on that bone white sand, both the click and song unheard by Shinji Ikari.
Occasionally his eyes would shift back to that red sea, oftentimes lingering on the EVA propped up above the water. Their outstretched arms seemed mocking, as if inviting him to return to the numbing embrace Instrumentality had promised. Yet birds were already making those same arms their resting grounds, and Shinji felt something akin to vindication at the terrifying creatures being relegated to such a state.
He would scoff before turning his back and returning to his task, clearing rubble and debris that blocked access to the road leading away from the beach.
As he worked, Shinji was mostly certain he had heard the yowling of a cat somewhere to the west, but he was dead certain that the silence of the muggy night was being filled with cicada calls. A dog had wandered by somewhere up the hill and more and more birds flocked from behind him, flying inland.
With every passing second, he felt life leaking into the ugly landscape around him, so he kept working. Kicking, dragging and carrying what he could, ignoring the strain and shaking of his arms and legs as much as was feasible.
By some quirk of fate, he was the first one out. He had started the mess of the Third Impact and was, for now, the only witness to its dire consequences and the ghost of a possible recovery. Thus, in a world that would once again need to be rebuilt, he needed to start on the process in what miniscule way he could manage.
A part of him hoped to see Rei again, if she had remained hovering above the sea (staring and silent) he felt that would be enough to alleviate the loneliness. But he was getting better, and those rebellious thoughts lingered less and less; his dusty and cut up hands would return to sifting through the debris with renewed vigor whenever he reaffirmed his decision in his mind.
'I'd rather be lonely in a world that's real, than pretend to be happy in a world where nothing will ever change.'
Shinji had long since decided that before he fell asleep, he would clear up this section so they had a road back to Tokyo-3 (or whatever was still standing), he would travel down it and see what else he could accomplish when he next awoke.
A simple plan that was open to the inevitable changes that would follow.
Other people would return. They would return with their own opinions of his actions before the disaster, during and now. And instead of falling to pieces at the weight of that terrifying inevitability, he would keep his hands busy and face it, back-straight, when they came.
"I'm done running away!"
He was tested a while after he awoke.
Long brown hair and darker, harrowed eyes; First Lieutenant Shigeru Aoba was the second human to set foot on that beach.
Shinji had turned from his work, futilely wiping sweat from his brow with his already drenched shirt, and the man was standing there on the shore in his NERV uniform, the boys heart skipping a beat as it lurched in his chest.
Aoba's gaze seemed to only find Shinji's after the boy noticed him, the two close enough to see each other's faces but not close enough to hold conversation. Yet the older man's lips moved as if to speak and Shinji drew a sense of comfort from his face and body language. No anger, no accusation, almost relaxed.
The man would cast an eye back out to the sea and let it linger for a long time. Long enough for Shinji returned to his task, then move everything he could on his own and finally meander over to his side.
It hurt in his chest to do it, every thought screamed that he was doing wrong as he moved (his very nerves rebelling against the brains command to stop himself), he placed a hand on Aoba's arm and successfully dragged his full attention unto himself with the gentle touch,
"You can go back, if that's what you want." A soft sentence. Delivered with something Shinji had always struggled to offer.
A smile, comforting and sincere.
Shigeru Aoba's hold was tight, but it was far warmer than anything Shinji had ever known. It still took him time to fight his desperate instinct to run, eventually returning the gesture. After this, the man rested his face on the top of Shinji's head and breathed a sigh into the boys hair.
Though they would never know how long they stayed in that position, the sun was setting when they pulled apart and three more familiar faces lay on the beach around them.
Reunions were quiet, but Shinji didn't shy away from them for as long as he could.
As they got on, practicality demanded they assist Shinji with the road so they could start the process of raiding the nearest buildings for food and shelter. As continued contact with them caused Shinji further discomfort, he elected to selfishly scurry off to search on his own.
He punished himself later by sitting down besides them, asking them how they were and what he could do to help or comfort. He wasn't doing well, but the attempts helped him and Shinji forcing bowls of food into their hands with a smile seemed to be having some form of positive effect.
He decided against running away, fighting every second against his instincts to do so. And, ever so slowly, as that beach filled with more and more bodies and faces, it got easier…