Chapter 18: The D.I. Part Two

"The bullet is a mad thing; only the bayonet knows what it is about."

-Alexander Suvorov

Day 8

These early mornings are going to be the death of me, Misato thought with a yawn as she watched the major. They both were leaning against the reception desk in the lobby of their apartment building, where the doorman would sit if there was one.

Not that she'd really had to wake up, having spent the night in her office finalizing the list of drill movements that Bishop was now silently studying, a lit cigarette hanging loosely from the corner of his mouth. And at least she didn't have to run and do pushups with the Eva pilots today. Of course, she didn't really have to participate in his early morning torture sessions, but she knew she'd never live it down if she chickened out, and supposed the major had a point when he said she shouldn't put the kids through anything she couldn't do.

"Well, whaddya think?" she asked. "Can they learn it in three days?"

"Dunno," he replied absently, not looking up from the loose sheaf of papers. "This is pretty complicated stuff." He studied for another moment, before looking up at her with a critical eye. "Mostly centered around bayonet drill, it seems. I wish you would have told me that sooner, I'd have focused more of my training on it."

"I would have, but these plans were only finalized a few hours ago. Trust me, all they need to do is follow these movements exactly."

He shrugged and blew out a lungful of smoke. How the hell he could get away with smoking those things and still be in better shape than her, she had no idea. "Well, I guess it's doable. They've got a pretty good handle on the basics, and we've got an old saying back home." He flashed her an easy smile. "You can build anything you want if you put down the proper foundations first."

It was too early in the day for her to be amused by his folksy wisdom. "Hm. I guess if they can't, we're all dead anyways."

He grunted his agreement, turning to survey the lobby, empty aside from Rei patiently waiting by the doors. Misato eyed the man, seeing in his gaze a deep weariness, as well as something she hadn't seen since that thunderstorm all those weeks ago.

He gave a tired sigh and crushed his cigarette out just as the doors leading the stairwell opened, and her two wards emerged in their smart tan uniforms, rifles slung over their shoulders. The major composed himself, setting his face into an unimpressed grimace as the kids marched across the lobby, the sound of their synchronized footsteps on the tile floor echoing through the empty space before they halted and stood at attention in front of them.

She had tried to assist with their training as much as possible, or at least be present for it. Refining her battle plan was no small task, however, and that combined with the rest of her duties piling up had kept her at headquarters for almost all of the past week, leaving the major solely responsible for most of their training during the day. She supposed that might have been irresponsible of her, but she was impressed enough by what she saw so far to trust the man's judgement.

They were finally working together, she thought with a smirk, and all it took was constant shouting and threats of punishment from a trained killer.

He returned their salute, before cocking an eyebrow at Asuka. "Well, if it isn't Cadet Soryu. I almost didn't recognize you in an unwrinkled uniform. I see you took my advice."

"Yes sir," the girl answered smartly.

"Good, we might just have a shot at beating that thing after all. You two ready to get to wor-" He stopped abruptly as his gaze drifted downwards. "…What's with the gloves, Soryu?"

Misato hadn't noticed it before, but now saw that Asuka was wearing a pair of black leather driving gloves, trying and failing to hide them behind her back.

"Uh, I just thought they looked good, sir…" she answered unconvincingly.

"I don't care how they look, they're not part of your uniform. Hand 'em over." The major held out his hand and gave her an impatient look as she sheepishly removed them, slowly pulling off the right glove to reveal a hand heavily wrapped in bandage.

"Oh my god, Asuka, what happened!?" Misato cried out as she hurried to examine the girl's hand.

"I-It's just a little burn, no big deal…"

"A little burn? Why's your hand all wrapped up like that, then?" she demanded, sick with worry and guilt. "And why didn't you call me? You might've needed a doctor!"

"It's fine, ma'am." The girl answered with a roll of her eyes. "It doesn't even hurt anymore. Shinji here says it needs to be wrapped up so it doesn't get infected."

"I mean, he's right about that." Misato whirled at the sound of the major's voice, causing the man to take a step backwards.

"…And you! You didn't know about this?" Misato asked in a low, dangerous voice. "You were supposed to be watching them!"

"Hey, they're fourteen, not four," the man shot back. "I had some paperwork that you told me to catch up on, so pardon me for assuming they'd survive being left alone for half a day." That did nothing to make her feel better.

"…but you still should have told one of us." He side-stepped past her to lecture the kids with a waggle of his finger, deftly trying to deflect the guilt from himself. "Alright Soryu, what happened? Try to do some cooking?"

"Um, not exactly," the girl mumbled embarrassedly, rubbing the back of her head. "…It was the iron."

"You burned yourself… on an iron?"

"…Yes sir."

"Good lord." The major broke character for a moment and laughed, gesturing grandly at the kids for the benefit of an imaginary audience. "Humanity's last hope, ladies and gentlemen. God help us. You know you're not supposed to grab the hot bit, right?"

"…Yes sir."

"Hm." His face suddenly became creased with concern. "Can you still hold your rifle?"

Misato took a step back as the girl nodded, unslinging the weapon from her shoulder and gingerly wrapping her wounded hand around the pistol grip. She tried and failed to keep from wincing.

The major no doubt noticed as well, but pretended not to, much to Misato's consternation. The girl was clearly in pain, but he nonetheless ordered them through a few drill movements.

"I guess we'll see about that. Order arms!" he barked, and the two kids brought their rifles down beside them and smacked the buttstocks down on to the floor with a loud Clack in perfect synchronization.

"Shoulder arms!" Now they brought them up to hold them at their right sides, supporting them by grasping the back of the pistol grip. The poor girl's wounded right hand was now supporting the weapon's entire weight. She didn't make a sound, but her lower lip was trembling ever so slightly.

There was no respite. "Slope arms! Present arms! Port arms! Shoulder arms! Change arms!" he barked out command after command, the two pilots responding perfectly in time with each, Asuka refusing to let out so much as a whimper.

Finally, he gave the command for them to ground arms, and they gently laid their rifles down on the floor beside them before returning to attention. Misato was furious now at the display of wanton disregard for her ward's safety, but he wasn't done yet.

"Alright you two," he sneered, pacing in front of the stoic teenagers. "…for failing to inform your superiors about Cadet Soryu's injury, you can get on your faces and start pushing. I'll tell you when to stop." They didn't utter a word as they got down on all fours to begin their punishment. Misato had seen enough.

"Major!" she hissed, pulling him aside. She wanted them scared straight, but this was too much. "…Don't you think you're being a bit harsh?"

"A bit harsh?" he responded, unmoved. "Yeah, of course. Isn't that the point?"

"Bu- Asuka, she's in pain. Can't you ease up on her a bit?"

"You think the enemy's gonna go easy on her because she has a little boo-boo on her hand?"

"…I guess not."

"No, and I won't either. She got hurt because she was careless. Carelessness has consequences, and in combat those consequences are usually fatal. I'm training them as officers, and officers are held accountable for their actions." He sniffed derisively at her. "If you have a problem with my methods, feel free to find someone else to be your rugrat drill sergeant."

She stood her ground. "If your methods involve torturing a little girl, I think maybe I should find someone else."

There it was: the flash of anger in his eyes that told her she'd struck a nerve. "I am not torturing a little girl," he growled. "I am disciplining a soldier. Isn't that what you want? Soldiers who'll follow orders and win your battles for you? Well this is what it takes. God knows I take no pleasure in any of this, but I'll do whatever it takes to make sure they're tough enough to win, and I don't care if you, them or anyone else hates me for it."

His voice had risen to a near-shout, and Misato glanced past the man's shoulder to see Shinji and Asuka frozen halfway through a pushup, staring across at the arguing adults. "Who told you to stop?" The major snarled over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off her. "Keep pushing!"

The kids both hastily resumed their exercise, while Misato met his eyes, not willing to back down. "They're still just kids, major," she said tersely. "Not marines. There's only so far you can push them. I know they need to be tough, I know they need to learn discipline, but I hardly see how making Asuka's injury worse is going to help. At least let her wear the gloves," she pleaded with him.

Seemingly unmoved, the major just grunted and turned on his heel, marching back over to stand in front of the kids, barking for them to get back on their feet.

"Soryu," he began, eyeing the girl critically. "…Does your hand hurt?"

"No-" she began, still breathless from all the pushups.

"Think long and hard before you lie to me, cadet." The major cut her off with a menacing glare.

"…Yes sir. It hurts," she mumbled.

"Bad?"

"Yes sir."

"Hm. Well, if it gets to be too much, all you have to do is say so, and Miss Ayanami will take your place. So, you wanna quit?"

"No sir!" she shouted defiantly. "I'll do it, even if it kills me!"

The major's face softened ever so slightly, a tiny smile crossing his lips. "…Harder than a nail, aren't you Soryu?"

"Yes sir!"

"Attagirl. Here," he removed the gloves from the pocket he'd stuffed them in and tossed them to the redhead, before swiftly turning to make for the door leading out the courtyard that served as their parade square. "Now pick up your weapons and follow me. We have work to do."

Misato could do nothing but watch as they obeyed. She knew that the vexing man was right, that this is exactly what she'd asked of him, but was it what she really wanted? Now, seeing just how much of a terrifyingly effective disciplinarian he could be, she wasn't so sure.

Sure, she may be gaining a more effective fighting force, but she could help but feel as though she was losing the kids in doing so. Her kids.

Day 9

"On Guard!" Bishop roared, watching proudly as the Eva pilots held their unwieldy weapons ready and outstretched at their sides, gleaming bayonets leveled towards an imaginary foe.

"Good! Two three… point!" Shinji, Asuka and Rei advanced their right foot to lunge forwards, uttering the primal battle cry he'd taught them as they drove the points of their bayonets forward in a synchronized thrust, the penultimate movement in this strange dance Katsuragi had dreamed up.

"Bravo!" Standing beside him at the edge of the apartment complex's courtyard, she cheered and clapped her hands in delight at their performance as the kids bowed and returned to attention with ordered arms. He'd been running them through the routine over and over again for the better part of two days now, and this was the first time she'd stuck around to watch the whole thing, having been called back to headquarters on urgent business shortly after their argument yesterday morning.

She seemed chuffed with how quickly they'd mastered it, though of course she hadn't been around for the hours on end of frustratingly slow progress yesterday. Those poor rifles were beat to hell by now, having slipped out of hands too small to hold them dozens of times as the kids tried their best to master the various spins and other flourishes that Katsuragi insisted were an essential part of the plan.

He couldn't blame them; at a poorly balanced ten pounds and over a metre long with the bayonet fixed, the old FN was certainly not the ideal tool for this job, older and lighter bolt action rifles usually being preferred by military drill teams. Again, though, she said it was necessary, the weight and length of the rifle closely simulating the feel of the weapons the Evas would use against the angel. He'd had to do quite a bit of practice in private before teaching the techniques to the kids, putting a few more dents into his own rifle's stock in the process.

Pleased as Katsuragi may have been, however, he was far from it. Their final thrust wasn't quite in synchronization.

"Damnit, Ikari!" he called out, ignoring her and striding across to stand in front of the teenagers. "How many times do I have to tell you? Don't telegraph your thrust!"

"I-I'm trying sir…"

"Well trying's not bloody good enough! Soryu, give me your rifle." He snatched the weapon from the girl's hands, deciding that trying to explain his error for the millionth time would be a waste of time. He would have to be shown. "You're drawing back before pushing forward. That's costing you half a second, and that's more than enough of an opening to get you killed."

He stood opposite the boy, ordering him to assume the on guard position and doing the same, their bayonets almost crossed.

"Alright," he growled. "Now try and stick me with that thing."

"W-what?" Shinji stammered nervously in reply. "…But what if I hurt you?"

"Do as you're told, cadet." He flashed the boy a confident smirk. "Don't tell me you're not tempted…"

Shinji's face hardened at that, and Bishop couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. The boy eyed him, the standoff continuing for a tense moment before he made his move. Just as Bishop knew he would, the kid pulled his rifle back a split second before his thrust, and in that split second the hardened soldier brought his own bayonet forward in a flash of silver.

"You see?" he said as Shinji froze in place, slowly looking down to see that the tip of the blade had stopped a hair's breadth from his chest. "All you're doing by pulling back is telling your opponent that you're about to strike. If you make sure the rifle's braced properly, you'll get just as much power behind the thrust, and you won't give the big ugly bastard trying to kill you an opening. Got it?"

The boy, whose face had gone noticeably pale, simply gave a small nod as Bishop withdrew the rifle and returned it to its owner, before returning to his position at the edge of the courtyard.

"Alright troops," he called to the kids. "You've done this enough times by now, and I'm starting to lose my voice, so why don't you try it from the top without me calling the commands. GO!"

He looked over at Katsuragi as the kids began their routine, the sound of boots stomping on the pavement echoing through the otherwise empty courtyard. She was giving him a scathing glare.

"…You disapprove?" he asked evenly, turning his attention back to the Eva pilots.

"Of you nearly killing Shinji with a bayonet?" she scoffed. "You're damn right I disapprove. I thought I told you to tone it down with that sort of stuff."

"I didn't nearly kill him, Katsuragi," he answered with a shrug. "You know how much force it takes to drive a bayonet through someone's ribs?"

"Uhh, no..."

"Well I do. You can bet that if I actually were trying to kill him, he'd be dead. Besides, I'd say it got the point across, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just know that if anything happens to them on your watch, I'll-" She paused as realization slowly crept across her face, followed by a sly grin. "...That has got to be the worst pun I've ever heard."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

In an instant, the tension was gone, and they shared a chuckle as Katsuragi gave him a playful poke in the ribs. "C'mon, nobody's fooled by the tough guy act. We all know you're just a big ol' softy underneath."

"Whatever you say," he replied distractedly, focused on his pupils. He could tell by the sound of their boots that they were still a touch out of sync, and he was trying to figure out who the culprit was. It only took a few seconds of watching for him to deduce that it was Shinji who was dragging a fraction of a second behind his teammates.

The kid just didn't seem himself today. He was usually the best of the three at drill, but today his movements were sloppy, his eyes dull and weary instead of bright and attentive. Maybe he'd had a rough night. Maybe he'd finally been pushed to his limit.

Bishop could sympathize. He didn't feel like himself lately either. All this playing at being soldiers was dredging up memories from when he'd been the real thing, memories that denied him anything resembling a good night's sleep, leaving him with an even shorter temper than usual.

Last night, he had a dream that he was at his passing out parade at the end of basic training all those years ago. It started out happily enough. There he was, again eighteen years old; trim, handsome, unscarred and proud. Proud that he was finally on his way to making something of himself, proud that he wouldn't have to slave away in that damned refinery for the rest of his life. His family couldn't afford to send him to college, but the army could and would once his term of enlistment was up according to the recruiter. He would make something of himself, he would give her the life she deserved.

Dressed in the regiment's traditional scarlet uniform, complete with the slouch hats their predecessors had worn in the Boer war, his chest swelled with pride as the battalion marched passed the reviewing stand to the stirring strains of The British Grenadiers.

It was the smell that first told him that something was amiss, that all-too-familiar sickly-sweet stink of death.

"Eyes right!" barked an unseen officer, the nightmare began to take shape as his head instinctively snapped to the side, for the men marching beside him weren't the dear friends he remembered. He was among a regiment of walking corpses in various states of decay. As he looked closer, however, he saw that they were indeed his friends.

There was Tennant, his deathly pale head lolling forward with each step as his torn-away throat failed to hold it up. Beside him was Corporal Parsons, the arm that Bishop had seen blown off being dragged along behind by a few tendons, and next to him was Private McLeod, a pal from high school who'd lost his head to a .50 calibre round. Sure enough, there was nothing sticking up above his tunic's blood-stained collar.

All down the ranks were brothers he'd lost, still bearing the injuries that had killed them, all shambling along silently in time to the music. That wasn't the worst of it though. Looking across to the reviewing stand, he saw a single person sitting there.

It was her.

His blood ran cold as he saw that it wasn't the beautiful young woman he'd proposed to on that perfect day. Rather, she was just as when he'd last seen her. Her slender body was horribly crushed and disfigured, her blue eyes milky and glossed over.

She waved at him cheerfully. She beckoned him to come to her.

"…Major?"

Katsuragi's concerned voice snapped him out of his trance. "Sorry," he mumbled with a shake of his head. He felt as though he'd just woken up in a cold sweat like he had last night. "…I was miles away.''

"Clearly." The woman gave him a worried look, but didn't comment further as she nodded her head towards to the kids, who'd finished and were now awaiting instructions.

He knew he needed to do something about Shinji now before the problem got worse. The question was what. Much as he may have sympathized with the boy, he couldn't ease up on him either. They needed every minute of the time they had left, and giving him any special treatment in front of the others might sever the fragile thread of comradeship he saw beginning to form between the Eva pilots.

"Ikari, you're too slow!" He made a show of being angry as he stomped towards the boy. "What's the matter with you? Forgotten how to count?"

"N-No sir," he replied evasively. "I'm just a little tired. I, uh didn't get much sleep last night,"

"Didn't sleep, huh?" Bishop spat. "I must not be working you hard enough, then." He paced back and forth as he lectured the boy. "By God, when I was in the army, we'd be lucky to sleep an hour on the cold ground before marching all day and fighting a battle at the end of it. You've got a nice warm bed to sleep on, what the hell's your excuse?"

"No excuse, sir."

"Well then suck it up princess. You're an officer, you're responsible for your actions and part of that means showing up for training rested and ready to work. If you can't keep up, you may as well quit now."

Bishop frowned down at him for a moment as the boy mutely stared down at his shoes. He could tell there was something Shinji wasn't telling him.

"Well?" He demanded.

"I quit."

The boy mumbled the words so quietly that Bishop almost didn't hear them.

"…What did you say?" he asked in a low voice, leaning closer to the boy.

"I… I quit." Shinji looked up at him and met his eyes with an impassive stare.

Taken aback, the pilot said nothing for a moment, not expecting to have his bluff called. Then, the anger started building as it sunk in.

"…So what, after all that time and effort, that's it? Why now?"

The boy just shrugged as replied. "I-I just can't do it anymore. I guess I'm not good enough."

"Not good enough? Bullshit!" Bishop spat. "If I could do it, so can you."

"I can't-"

"You can. I know you can." The pilot cut him off, not willing to tolerate any more defeatism. "I'm not gonna make you stay, but if you leave without telling me what the real problem is, I'll just have to assume you're quitting because you're too scared to do your duty."

He could tell those words hurt the boy by the flicker of his eyes, but he still refused to spill the beans. Instead, he just gently laid his rifle on the ground, turned, and began to make for the exit.

At the sight of Shinji's retreating back, something inside Bishop's frazzled mind snapped, and with a growl he kicked the abandoned rifle across the courtyard with a deafening clatter of steel on concrete.

"Fine!" he shouted at Shinji in an acidic tone. "Get out! Get the hell out of my sight! I've wasted enough of my time on you, you chickenshit little son of a-"

He managed to stop himself as the door shut behind the boy, but the damage was done.

The courtyard was left in stunned silence at his outburst. Soryu and Ayanami kept their eyes pointed doggedly forward, while Katsuragi just shook her head disappointedly and gave him a look that said 'I told you so'.

The wind was gone from his sails, and he wiped his hand across his face with a deep sigh, feeling as though he'd just kicked a puppy.

You didn't want to be that person anymore.

"Soryu," he muttered after a moment. "…Go find him."

"Go find him he says," Asuka grumbled to herself as she made her way down the street, shooting an angry glance behind her at the building she'd just scoured from top to bottom. As if it were that easy. He wasn't there, so she figured her comrade had probably taken off in this direction.

"You go find him, kotzbrocken…" she muttered, wondering why she hadn't been able to muster the courage to say it to the major's face. Instead of arguing, she meekly did as she was told as if by instinct, just as cowed and pathetic as Shinji and little miss perfect. It disgusted her to no end.

Stopping for a moment to get her bearings, she asked a couple of younger kids on the sidewalk if they'd seen a boy dressed in the same uniform as her.

"Yeah, I saw him just a couple blocks that way," one of the brats replied, pointing down the street. "I think he was headed to the park. He was dressed funny just like you, and…" The girl backed off as Asuka gave her a withering glare, the group hurrying along in the opposite direction as she continued on.

She walked slowly, in no particular hurry to find him. It was a nice evening, cool and still as the sun began to slip behind the hills to the west. It was one of the first moments she'd had to herself in a while, and with no distractions she thought more about why she seemed to have suddenly had the fight sapped out of her, why she followed the Canadian's orders like some sort of toy soldier.

Maybe… maybe I like being a soldier. Her lips twitched into a frown at the intrusive thought. All her life, she'd been treated like a spoiled princess. By her father, by Kaji, by her teachers and her NERV handlers back in Germany. She'd taken for granted that she could have whatever she wanted when she wanted it, that people would be tripping over each other to make her happy. It all made for a dreadfully dull existence, leaving her anything but.

Now, however, the unstoppable force had hit an immovable object. She'd never before come up against someone with a force of personality that rivaled her own, someone who couldn't care less who she was or how much money her father had, and who demanded as much from her as she demanded from herself. She supposed she had to respect that on some level.

No, that can't be it, she told herself firmly. I'm just too tired to argue is all. Firmly pushing any more uncomfortable thoughts out of her head, she focused on the task at hand, the small patch of grass that passed for a park among Tokyo-3's dense urban hellscape coming up on her left.

There he was sure enough, her esteemed brother-in-arms, sitting on a bench and staring off into space while he listened to his ancient SDAT.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" she said in a smug, sing-song voice as she sidled up behind him. "The teacher's pet, fallen from grace."

"Oh, h-hi Asuka." He looked up and greeted her meekly, removing one earbud. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Hm." She plopped down next to him, remaining silent for a moment. She would just as soon leave him to his misery, but… Well, she figured she at least ought to try and figure out what was eating him, if only so she didn't have to fight with Rei. She supposed she also owed him as much after the iron incident.

"So, what happened, huh? You were doing grea- fine, I guess, yesterday." she eventually said. "…You gonna tell me, or do I have to beat it out of you?"

Looking over, she was puzzled to find Shinji giving her a quizzical look. "…You mean you don't remember? Y-you know, last night?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Last night? What do you mean last night?" She tried to remember anything out of the ordinary. Aside from Misato working late, like she had the night before, it seemed like a normal evening, or as normal as any of this could be. When the major finally released them from the day's training at around 7:00PM, they worked together to prepare a quick dinner, finish their chores, and catch up on their homework. The routine had been so ingrained in to them at this point that they hardly needed to speak a word to each other to accomplish their joint tasks.

In fact, she thought with a wrinkled brow, the first and last thing she recalled saying to him before the exhausted teens went to bed was a half-joking warning against any funny business in light of their guardian's continued absence.

"Now listen here, idiot," she'd said sternly to the boy as they both folded their freshly pressed uniforms and laid them carefully beside their beds. "Don't you get any ideas just 'cause we're here alone." She briefly considered dragging her futon into the master bedroom in an attempt to reclaim her lost privacy if Misato wasn't going to be home again, but something stopped her. Doing so would be disobeying a direct order, and the discipline that had been forcefully instilled in her over the past nine days reminded her of the potential consequences of doing so.

Instead, she pointed to the stack of gear that stood beside her bed. "As far as you're concerned, this pile of junk is the impregnable wall of Jericho. Try to breach it at your own peril."

From the other side of the living room Shinji just rolled his eyes at her. "Geez, someone thinks highly of themselves," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear, before speaking up. "A-and besides, I thought the walls of Jericho were famous for, y'know, falling…"

She squinted angrily at the boy, who flashed her the tiniest of smiles. "…Well don't you just know everything. Shut up and go to sleep."

She flicked off the lights, and that was the last thing she remembered before she was torn from her dreams by the sound of the major banging on the door of the apartment at dawn.

"Wait a minute," she said slowly, the realization dawning on her. "Now that I think of it, I could have sworn I was on the wrong side of the room when I woke up this morning…" She was in too much of a bleary-eyed scramble to get ready to notice it at the time.

Looking over at Shinji, she saw that he was pointedly avoiding meeting her eyes. "…you PERVERT!" she shrieked, giving him a hard shove that sent him tumbling to the ground. "Why was I in your bed? What did you do? Did you drug me and take advantage of me? I'll bet you did, didn't you, you little… weasel!" She rained a constant hail of blows down on him as she shouted at the boy, who raised his hands to shield himself and tried to stutter an explanation.

"A-Asuka, calm down! I can explain!"

"Save it! You're gonna be in so much trouble when I tell Misato and the flyboy about this, you'll-"

"Ow! Stop it! You were sleepwalking!"

She halted with her fist in midair, giving him a hard glare. "…are you calling me crazy?"

"Wha- n-no. I mean, I don't really know," He replied quickly as he staggered to his feet and backed away, "Y-you just, uh, well I heard you get up in the middle night, a-and when you came back, you, uh, laid down in my bed instead of yours. You were mumbling something, I-I think it was in German, but I heard the word 'mama'…"

"…Then what," she demanded.

Shinji raised his hands in surrender. "Then nothing. I swear. I-I didn't want to wake you, so I got up and slept the rest of the night on the floor. Or, uh, I tried to, anyway."

She remained still for a tense moment, before slowly lowering her fist to her side. Maybe it was everything they'd endured together, but oddly enough, she trusted him. She used to sleepwalk all the time as a kid after all, especially after… Mama?

Maybe it was brought on by stress. The past week or so had certainly been the most one of the most mentally and physically tasking times she could recall.

She shook her head quickly, returning her focus to Shinji, her eyes narrowing to slits. "If there's anything you're not telling me," She growled,"…You'll pay for it. Big time."

"Asuka," he said simply, looking into her eyes. "I swear."

She nodded slowly, supposing it explained why he was too tired to keep up today. "So…" she asked, perplexed by this turn of events. "Why didn't you just tell that to the major?"

"Would it make a difference?" he replied with a heavy sigh as the pilots returned to sit on the bench. "I don't think he cares what the reason is, he said we'd be left behind if we couldn't keep up," The boy stared dejectedly at the ground. "A-and besides, he's right. I'm afraid."

"Well…" Asuka was caught off guard, not expecting to have to console a depressed squad mate. This certainly wasn't her strong suit. The unspoken implication, though, was that he'd lied to protect her and had taken their superior's wrath in her stead. Much as she may have resented him thinking she needed protection, she couldn't help but be touched by the gesture, and was determined to return it in kind.

And though she would never admit to anyone, she was scared too.

"…Maybe so, but he was out of line and he knows it. You should have seen Misato yelling at him as I left." She shrugged. "Besides, you've screwed up worse than this and didn't get kicked off the mission, remember that last formation run?"

She succeeded in lightening the mood as they both thought back to their last PT session a few days ago, sharing a companionable chuckle at the memory. Shinji, tasked with leading the formation, had stumbled over a rock in the road, causing the entire column to collide with him from behind and collapse into a tangled pile of bodies in the middle of the street. They'd all expected the boy to be verbally torn to shreds by their mercurial instructor once they'd gotten themselves sorted out, but instead he simply reminded Shinji to pay attention to his surroundings and ordered them to continue on, shouting encouragement all the while.

"C'mon," she said as she abruptly stood, extending a gloved hand to the boy. "I'll bet he's cooled down by now. Let's go back."

Shinji stared at her outstretched hand for a moment. She stared too, unsure why she would make such an intimate gesture, but too committed now to back out.

Eventually, though, he glanced down at the medal ribbon on his chest and gave a small nod of resolve, taking her hand allowing her to help him to his feet.

They found him pacing the lobby like a caged animal when they returned to the building, and Shinji gulped nervously as the man's hard eyes locked on to him. He unconsciously snapped to attention, as did Asuka standing beside him. It gave him some measure of courage, at least, to know that they'd face the music together.

"…Welcome back, Ikari." The major said tersely, stopping his pacing to stand opposite him. Tucked under one elbow was Shinji's discarded rifle.

Before he could say anything more, Miss Misato emerged from one of the doors leading into the lobby, stopping between them and the pilot.

"Major…" she tapped her foot impatiently, like a schoolteacher scolding a problem student. "…Don't you have something to say?"

He seemed uncharacteristically cowed, his eyes shifting between Shinji and Misato for a moment before settling on the floor. It was almost funny, Shinji thought, seeing the man whipped into submission by his much less imposing guardian, though the boy also knew that she had a way of making people do what she wanted whether they liked it or not.

"Yeah, I guess I do." He muttered after a few seconds of silence, resuming his pacing with his hands clasped behind his back. "When we started this… Whatever this is, I promised you kids that I'd be hard but fair. Ikari, what I said to you wasn't fair, and for that, I, uh, I apologize."

For Shinji, apologizing was almost a bodily function, to the point where the word 'sorry' became a form of punctuation in his sentences . He could see by the man's pained expression and tense voice, however, that it didn't come so easily to the major.

The young Eva pilot had been abused and pushed around by plenty of grown-ups, but he couldn't recall one ever apologizing to him for it.

"I-it's okay," the boy began to reply, only to be cut off.

"No. Let me finish," the foreigner pressed on. "I had no right to imply that you were a coward. You earned that medal for a reason, because you're the furthest thing from a coward. What I said…" he trailed off with a sigh. "…Well, we're all under a lot of stress here, and sometimes that can make people say things they don't really mean."

Shinji nodded slowly. He'd been feeling the pressure too as their deadline loomed.

"…Well, anyways," the major took a step closer and shrugged the arm that held the rifle. "It's up to you whether or not you want this back. I won't hold it against you if you don't."

"Yes sir. I-I want it back." Shinji said it without hesitation, and the major rewarded him with a small smile as he handed him the beat-up weapon.

"I knew you would." Shinji returned to his place beside Asuka, slinging the rifle as the major turned to nod at Misato. "Now, I think it's best we knock off for the day. You two have pretty well got this thing down, and we still have one more full day to practice. Hit the sack early and meet me back here first thing in the morning."

Shinji exchanged a glace with the girl standing beside him, who flashed him a tiny smirk in return. Looking forward again, he saw that their instructor had seen the shared look, and he could have sworn he saw one of the man's eyebrows shoot up in amusement before he swiftly turned away to leave.

"Oh, Captain Katsuragi," he called over his shoulder with a poorly disguised chuckle on his way out. "…Make sure they get a warm glass of milk and a bedtime story. Wouldn't want any more sleepless nights now, would we?"

Day 11

Ding.

The doors slid open, and Bishop stepped off the elevator, glancing at his watch as he made his way down the corridor towards his office.

0800 hours. Couldn't be long now.

Not that it was any of his concern anymore: the Eva pilots were no longer under his command as of midnight. He'd done all he could to prepare them, done his best to harden them and turn them into a team, now it was up to them.

He had every confidence that they could do it; he'd run them through that routine so many times that he reckoned they could do it in their sleep. He was still unclear as to how exactly it would translate to an actual battlefield strategy, but Katsuragi told him not to worry about it, and so he kept his mouth shut and followed orders like a good soldier should. He'd drilled them until they nearly dropped, but the kids persevered and overcame. He was proud of them, prouder than he could ever remember being of anything.

He'd stopped by their apartment on his way out this morning to try and tell them so, but they'd already been whisked off to headquarters by then. Just as well, they probably never wanted to see his ugly mug again. Looking back, Bishop could appreciate that the skills and discipline instilled by his own drill instructors had probably saved his life on countless occasions, but God knows he never wanted to see Sergeant O'Neil again.

There was nothing more he could do about the battle, so here he was, ready to assume command of the aerial operations section like it was any other work day. No sense fretting over whether or not the world was about to end when there was a job to do. Looking around the hallways though, he noticed something odd. The place seemed completely abandoned.

Huh. Everyone must be in the hangar. Arriving at his office, he opened the door, and groaned at the sight of the stack of paperwork sitting on his desk, two weeks' worth of flight plans, maintenance reports and God knows what else requiring his signature.

Leaving his briefcase on a chair, he decided it could wait for later. First, he wanted to catch up with his pilots, eager to see how their training had been progressing. He'd left Kariya and Leveque in charge while he was gone, with instructions to continue teaching their UN counterparts the way of the Avenger, and had seen them a few times in the skies over Tokyo-3 engaged in mock combat. How he wished he could have been up there with them instead of playing pretend marines.

He looked first in the lounge, the usual hangout for the pilots when they weren't flying, but it was empty. There was nobody in the briefing room, or the locker room, or in any of the other offices either.

What the hell… Now deeply concerned that something was wrong, he hurried towards the hangar. Emerging into the vast space, he stopped and looked around. There were the jets, all eight of them lined up neatly along the opposite wall, but there didn't seem to be a single soul working on them or guarding them.

"Hello!" he called out, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. "…Anybody home?"

There was no response.

It was then that he noticed that the launch tunnel doors were open, and felt fresh air blowing on his face as he passed through the entrance. He could hear voices echoing down the tunnel, and with mounting anger saw what appeared to be his entire unit massed down at the other end.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded as he arrived at the back of the group, crowded around the edge of the tunnel where it looked out over the city. Several ranks of startled faces quickly turned to face him. "Why aren't you people working? Why is nobody guarding the planes?"

There was silence for a moment, most refusing to meet his eyes as he glowered around the assembly, before a voice called out to him from the other side of the crowd.

"Sir, over here," Kariya yelled, waving to him. The crowd parted to let him through, and Bishop was soon standing in front of his pilots, wordlessly demanding an explanation.

"Uh, you see," the nervous younger man started, only to be cut off by a more confident Leveque.

"We wanted to see the big fight is all, boss," the Quebecer said coolly. "There's nothing we can do to help until the next shipment of projectiles arrives, right?"

"Right…"

"Well, then why not watch it from the best seats in the house?" He gestured to the grand vista that could be seen from the edge of the tunnel, with Tokyo-3's maze of spires visible to their right and Lake Ashi stretching far off to the left. "Besides, we all want to get a good look at that thing we were shooting at last time, none of us really got to see it except from way above."

Bishop shook his head. "Unbelievable. I spend all my time trying to teach a pack of teenagers how to act like professionals, then I come back to find the actual professionals acting like a bunch of idiot teenagers. And trust me, you don't want to see one of those things from any closer than 20,000 feet."

"Hey, we've been training hard boss, just like you said to." Karen Nagara took a bold step forward and looked up at him with her hands on her narrow hips. "We just thought we deserved a little break is all."

Rubbing his temples, Bishop realized he didn't have the fight left in him to order them back to work. He supposed he owed it to the kids as well to watch their battle, win or lose.

"Oh for god's sake, fine." He felt a collective sigh of relief all around him as he gestured to a row coolers lined up against one wall of the tunnel. "But you lot are gonna help me get through all that paperwork later. Now, what have you got in there?"

"Ice cold Canadian beer. I know a guy who works at a brewery in Vancouver, had it shipped express." Kariya shot him a broad grin as he withdrew a hand he'd had hidden behind his back, which held an open can. "Want one?"

"It's eight o'clock in the morning, you degenerates."

"It's dinner time back home."

"…Sound logic if ever I heard it. Beer me." With a shrug, he accepted a frosty can as his countrymen distributed the beverages to the other pilots and ground crew milling around. He pulled the tab and took a long sip.

Holy shit that's good, he thought as he savoured the hoppy pale ale, stepping up to the ledge to look down the steep forested slope to the lake below, then across to the flat north shore where the Evas would make their stand in front of the city. They hadn't been deployed yet, which meant the Angel hadn't yet emerged from its shell.

With a sigh, he sat down with his legs dangling over the edge, and soon his pilots and crew joined him, comrades ready to face the end together as they sat lined up on the precipice.

"So, it's true then, isn't it?" Leveque, seated beside Bishop, asked him casually.

"What is?"

"That those… things are piloted by children"

"Yep." Bishop took a long drink of beer. "Here we are, some of the finest pilots equipped with the finest aircraft in the world, and all we can do is sit here with our lives in their hands."

"Tabernac, eh? Poor kids."

"Tabernac indeed." He could tell that Leveque and the other pilots felt just as useless and impotent as he did, and the group sat in dejected silence for a while, waiting in grim anticipation along with the rest of the city, until the silence was interrupted by the sound of a feminine voice echoing from the empty hangar behind them.

"Down here!" Someone in the crowd shouted back, and soon footsteps could be heard hurrying down the tunnel towards them. A moment later, a petite young Japanese woman with short brown hair arrived behind Bishop.

"Well, hello Lieutenant Ibuki," the pilot turned to greet her with a small smile, raising his nearly empty beer can. "…Can I offer you a drink?"

The lieutenant, who Bishop had met once or twice in passing, shyly shook her head in refusal. "I-it's a little early in the day, don't you think sir?" she asked, out of breath after apparently having come some distance to get here.

"Yeah, but it's dinner time back home."

"…Excuse me?"

"Never mind," he said, shooting his pilots a glare as they had a chuckle at the young woman's expense. "Anyways, what can I do for you lieutenant?'

"Oh, right." She seemed a to be bit flustered under his steady gaze, her cheeks taking on a slight tinge of red. "Captain Katsuragi sent me to find you, since there was no answer on any of the phones up here. She, uh, wants you to report to her on the bridge."

So that's why they call it the bridge.

Bishop's curiosity about why they used the nautical term to describe NERV's command centre was dispelled as soon as he followed Lieutenant Ibuki through the final set of blast doors and into the space beyond. Pausing to peer over the railing, he saw that he was several stories above the floor of the huge room, on one of the upper platforms of something that did indeed resemble a warship's superstructure. There were several other platforms below him, with rows of technicians busily working away at computer terminals, and before the superstructure stretched a flat expanse of flat metal deck which displayed a detailed holographic map of Tokyo-3 and the surrounding countryside.

Continuing on after the young woman, his eyes turned upward to the walls, and the myriad of screens projected across every inch of them. Among the many showing various technical readouts that were incomprehensible to him, one showed the two Eva units in their bay, presumably ready to launch, while another showed a live feed of the object containing the stricken angel, now with a web of hairline cracks spreading across its smooth black surface.

After a few seconds, the pair reached the central platform, where Katsuragi was standing beside one of three computer terminals, looking over the shoulder of the bespectacled tech manning it. The pilot nodded his thanks to Ibuki and flashed her a small smile, which to his great amusement made her blush as she silently returned to her own terminal.

Bishop stood awkwardly by for a moment, not wanting to interrupt, never having felt so out of place in his life. Here he was, among a vast display of some of mankind's most advanced technology, dressed in a uniform identical to those of his predecessors who flew Spitfires nearly a century ago. A relic of a bygone age.

After what seemed like an eternity, Katsuragi finally turned and noticed him standing there.

"…Major," she greeted him coolly.

"Captain." The two officers stared each other down for a moment. "You wanted to see me?"

"I did." At her beckoning, he strode across the platform to stand beside her in its centre. Before she could elaborate further, the three techs working around them began rattling off reports to their commander.

"MAGI estimate five minutes until the Angel emerges, Ma'am." Ibuki spoke up first, her voice confident and clear, seemingly not belonging to the shy young woman who'd escorted him down here. "The Eva pilots are in place, the launch system is standing by."

"Understood, begin startup sequence."

"Yes Ma'am."

"Tokyo-3's defence systems are at 68% capacity Ma'am, the city is prepared for ground intercept." The tech off to their left with the long hair interjected next.

"Very good, although if the major here has done his job properly they won't be needed," Katsuragi said with a sly wink to the pilot. "Speaking of which, I was hoping you might say something to Shinji and Asuka before we launch them."

"…Like what?" he asked distractedly, trying in vain to follow the technical terms being exchanged between the techs and decipher the readouts on the big screens.

She shrugged. "I dunno. Just a little pep-talk maybe."

"I-" It suddenly dawned on him what she'd just asked, and he whirled on the woman in disbelief. "Wait, seriously? A pep talk? That's what you dragged me all the way down here for?"

"Sure, why not? Might do them some good."

"So why don't you do it, then?Believe me, my voice is the last one in the world they want to hear right now."

She turned away from the screens to fix him with a serious look. "I think it would mean more coming from you. Those kids have spent the past twelve days living for your approval, don't you think it would really mean something to them to finally get it?"

He let out an irritated breath, knowing she was right. Bishop had never been the type of leader to give grand speeches, however, nor was he fond of officers who were. He had always tried to lead from the front, where the energy used for giving speeches could be put to better use, and wasn't really sure what he would say.

"Well, I guess, but…"

"Great!" She dragged him by the arm over to one of the control panels surrounding the platform, showing him the mic and which button to push to activate it. "Better hop to it, we're about ready to launch."

The pilot realized that all eyes on the bridge were upon him as he nervously cleared his throat and leaned towards the microphone. He'd been less nervous than this while charging into machine gun fire.

"Uh hello, kids? Can you hear me?" He spoke tentatively.

One one of the screens, a camera feed showed both the young pilots in their cockpits, looking perfectly at ease until they heard his voice.

"Yes sir." They both replied in unison as they looked up in surprise, their voices ringing from an unseen loudspeaker.

He took a deep breath. "Well, uh, first of all you can stop calling me sir. I'm not in charge of you anymore."

"Yes sir."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose in faux annoyance. Apparently he'd succeeded in drilling military discipline into them, to the point where it was now instinct. "Right. Anyways, I uh just wanted to say to you two…" he trailed off and looked over at Katsuragi, who gave him a reassuring nod. "…I wanted to say than I'm proud of you both. Damn proud. Not many people could have endured what I put you through, and even fewer are brave enough to do what you're about to do."

With that, he stood straight and looked around the bridge, Seeing Katsuragi looking back at him. "…That's it?" she asked with an amused grin.

He thought for a moment, before leaning back into the mic. "Oh, and Shinji?"

"Yes sir?"

"You gonna telegraph your bayonet thrust?"

"No sir."

"Good man. Give 'em hell."

The sight of both the kids genuinely beaming at the words of praise put a grin on his face that couldn't have been slapped off. No doubt Asuka was unaware that she was on camera, otherwise she surely would have made more of an effort to play it cool.

"Wonderful." Katsuragi shoved him out of the way and took his place at the mic. "Alright you two, you know what to do now. Launch!"

Bishop was once again a bystander now as the bridge became a flurry of activity, watching on the screen as the two Evas emerged into the city. A huge sliding door on one of the skyscrapers beside the mechs opened up, revealing a pair of the giant assault rifles the Evas usually wielded, though this time, the pilot noted with a smirk, fitted with enormous bayonets similar the knives they carried as sidearms.

The Evas then took their position on the lake shore, just as the silhouette of the Angel crested the ridge line to the south as the beast resumed its advance. Spotting its twin foes, it split into two smaller versions of itself, each advancing up one shore of the narrow lake. The mechs just stood their ground, and the pilot's grin widened as they brought their huge rifles down into the on-guard position in perfect synchronization.

That signified that it was about the begin, and Bishop counted off the movements in his head as the two mechs then marched methodically up the opposite shores, their footsteps keeping perfect time, bayonets levelled towards the enemy.

He had to give it to Katsuragi, she was quite the tactician, making use of the terrain in this way. With the deep lake on one side and steep mountain ridges on the other, the twin angels were trapped, forced to fight alone without the other's support. The kids met the enemy about halfway down the lake's length, and Bishop was astonished to see the ridiculous twirls and flourishes he'd spent endless frustrating hours teaching them become parrying moves perfectly calculated to counter the angel's attack patterns, which Katsuragi would later mention were predicted by NERV's supercomputers using analysis from the previous battle.

Slowly but surely, the angel's halves were forced to give ground under a hail of synchronized bayonet strikes and controlled bursts of rifle fire, unable to get a hit past the impeccable drill of the Eva pilots, and with nowhere else to retreat the two separate yet identical battles slowly moved south.

At the lake's southernmost point, the two battered halves were finally able to rejoin. That's when the Evas pounced. Forced back together in its weakened state, the twin cores were exposed for a precious moment. Two pairs of giant metallic boots were firmly planted in the ground, both of the Evas' legs spread into a wide stance just like he'd taught their pilots, and in a movement almost too fast for the eye to comprehend the two gleaming blades flashed forward as one to bury themselves deep into their target.

It was all over in just under three minutes; the precise, mechanical assault ended with a blinding flash that signalled the enemy's demise.

Cheers echoed through the valley. From the pilots and ground crew in the open launch tunnel above the lake, from the thousands of civilians who were supposed to be hiding in their shelters, and from deep underground in the control centre. The normally stoic bridge crew were on their feet, embracing each other and joyfully yelling at the top of their lungs.

But nobody cheered louder than him.