Rei-Shinji.cjb.net presents
A Studio 402 Production
A. Amishi, Akodo Tim, Fenrir, and Rei_Ikari
The Courage to Live On
Prologue: A New Chance, A New Life
By Akodo Tim
I'm screaming.
I've never felt such agony before. The searing pain in my tortured body spreads into my entire being until it is all I feel, all I am. My world fills with blinding white light. After an eternity, the pain mercifully fades away. I keep screaming anyway; I don't remember when I finally stop.
Gradually, other sensations make their way through the thick, clinging haze in my brain: a rhythmic beeping; dull soreness in almost every muscle in my body; a painful throbbing in my left eye and right arm. There's a horrible taste in my paper-dry mouth, as if something unpleasant had crawled in there and died along with its friends and family. Above it all, there's an overwhelming, crushing feeling of fatigue. I'm too exhausted to even open my eyes.
In other words, I feel like shit. Or at least how Misato must feel first thing in the morning.
"Water," croaks a weak, rasping voice. It takes me a second to realize who had spoken.
My God, was that me?
A soft hum fills my ears. I feel the bed tilt slowly as it moves my aching body into some semblance of a sitting position. I try to sit up on my own, but a gentle hand on my chest firmly pushes me back onto the mattress.
Okay, okay, I get the hint.
A gentle puff of air washes over my face as the mask that was over my mouth and nose is removed. I hear the faint sound of liquid being poured. The smooth, yet uneven surface of a styrofoam cup brushes against my fingertips; I grasp it and try to lift it to my parched lips. The same soft hands that held me down now help my shaking left hand raise the cup. I feel something hard, light, and sharp-edged against my mouth--a plastic straw. I eagerly wrap my lips around it and suck. The water is lukewarm, with a slight metallic flavor and an aftertaste that only chlorine and God knows what else they put into tap water these days can give it.
It tastes like heaven.
Seconds later, a wet rattling slurp announces that I've hit bottom. The cup is taken from me; I hear the sound of it being refilled before it is placed back in my hand. The straw presses against my lips again.
"Thanks," I finally manage to whisper before I take another drink.
"You are welcome."
The soft, gentle voice cuts through the last of the drug-induced fog in my brain like a prog knife. I choke on the water and end up spraying a mouthful of it over the sheets in a most undignified manner as I realize who the voice belongs to. My eyes fly open--or rather, my right one does.
Too late, I realize my mistake as a N2 mine detonates inside my head. I sink back down onto the pillow, groaning, as I screw my eye shut against the brightness of the room. Still, I had glimpsed enough in that split-second to know who was with me.
Blue hair. Pale skin. Red eyes.
Her.
I groan again, and not just from the pain. Why did it have to be her?
I open my eye a crack; the world slowly comes into focus as my vision adjusts to the light. She's still there, standing over me and holding the water pitcher. There's no hint of an expression on her face; I don't think she's moved a muscle despite the fact that I probably spewed all over her.
Of all the people in the world, why does Wondergirl have to be the first one I see when I wake up?
Unless...
"I've died and gone to Hell, haven't I?" I moan.
She blinks. "No," she replies simply.
Figures. I hurt too much to be dead, anyway. I let out a weary sigh that seems to come all the way from the tips of my toes.
Has it all come to this? Am I, the great Asuka Langley Sohryu, designated pilot of Evangelion Unit 02 and savior of Mankind, destined to be a broken cripple for the rest of my life, with the Commander's little windup doll as my nursemaid?
My jaw clenches as the dull throbbing in my right arm flares into full-fledged agony in response. My whole body goes rigid as the pain spreads through me. I don't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me suffer; I silently endure it and grit my teeth until it slowly subsides.
One thing's for sure--when it comes to suffering, life has Hell beat, hands down.
A feeling of wetness spreads over my left thigh as I lay there, trembling and panting. Without a word, Wondergirl reaches over and plucks the crumpled remains of my once-full cup from my shaking fingers and tosses it in the wastebasket next to the bed.
Well, so much for being stoic.
I take a look around the room now that the spots in front of my eyes have disappeared. Sunlight pours into the ward despite the heavy curtains drawn in front of the window; through the crack between them I catch a glimpse of skyscrapers against a brilliant blue sky. The faint murmur of traffic can be heard over the steady beeping of the EKG.
Wait a minute. This isn't the infirmary.
"Where the hell am I?" I ask weakly.
"We are in the Tokyo-2 University medical center," she replies in that annoying, wooden voice of hers. "Do not worry. You are in excellent hands here."
"Who says I'm worried-" I begin to say, then her words finally sink in. "Tokyo-2?" I repeat incredulously.
She nods.
This isn't making sense. "How long?"
"You were transferred here six weeks ago."
"Six weeks?" I lift my head from the pillow, ignoring the sensation of vertigo as I look her in the eyes. "You mean I've been out for a month and a half?"
"Two months, actually. You were in the NERV infirmary for two weeks prior to your transfer."
I try to whistle in disbelief, but my lips are too dry; I end up shaking my head instead.
I glance to my right; my gaze follows the tubes snaking out from under the bandages wrapped around my arm. They wind their way upward to a metal stand holding a small collection of intravenous drip bags half-filled with liquids of various colors. A small, black box with a digital timer on its display--a dosage pump, I presume--lies in the middle of the tangle.
"So," I ask as I absently scratch at the bandage wrapped around my left temple, "have the doctors said anything?"
Wondergirl silently nods again, but avoids my gaze. She sits down on a folding chair by the side of the bed.
"Well?"
"You were critically injured in the battle--"
"Well thank you, oh mistress of the obvious," I interrupt with a sneer. "Do you suppose you can be a little more specific?"
She pauses for a moment, as if waiting for me to continue, then goes on as if nothing had happened. "You suffered extensive damage to your right capitate and lunate bones," she says clinically. "Your right ulna was shattered, while the radius suffered a compound fracture. You also sustained five cracked ribs, a punctured lung, internal hemorrhaging..."
I begin to regret asking her for details as I listen to her rattle off my injuries one by one like some grotesque shopping list. No wonder I feel terrible; considering everything I had apparently gone through, I wonder why I wasn't dead after all.
"...permanent loss of your left eye, a ruptured kidney which has since--"
"Hold it." I interrupt her again. "What do you mean, 'permanent'?"
She stares at me with that soul-burning gaze of hers. If I didn't know any better, I'd say there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes--not that I would ever need it from her, of course.
"The doctors," she replies, "were unable to save your eye."
My hand reaches up to gently touch the bandages on my face as the significance of her words sinks in. I can almost feel my world crumble around me while my fingertips caress the soft, cottony gauze. With only one eye, I have no depth perception. If that's the case...
"It looks like my piloting days are over," I whisper softly.
"Yes," she replies, "but not just for you."
I blink in confusion. "What do you mean by that?" I ask, my eye narrowing.
She looks at me straight in the eye and calmly, evenly, says five words that etch themselves forever in my memory:
"The Evangelions have been destroyed."
My mind reels; if my world was crumbling before, it's been completely, utterly obliterated now. I open my mouth to speak, to voice my surprise, pain and disbelief, but the only thing that manages to come out is a hoarse stutter.
"Shinji?" I finally manage to squeak. "Is he...?"
"He is fine."
Relief washes over me at the news, only to be replaced by confusion a moment later. Why on earth should I be happy that he beat me--again? Why should I be glad that he's okay after leaving me hanging out to dry against those Evas? Why should I care about that boring, pathetic, perverted idiot at all?
I don't know why, but I am. I do.
"So," I say sarcastically, "how did Mister Invincible save the day this time?"
"He did not."
Now I'm really confused. "Then how...?"
"It is a long story."
I snort. "I'm not going anywhere." I grab another cup from the table and take a sip after she fills it from the pitcher in her hands. "Now," I say to her as I wipe my mouth with the sleeve of my hospital gown, "tell me everything."
I lay back and listen as she does.
To my credit, I interrupt her only a few times. She patiently answers some of my questions; for others, she has no explanation. After she finishes I sink back into the pillow, too stunned to speak.
There's an awkward silence between us; I stare at the wall for a long, long time as I digest her tale. Finally, Wondergirl puts the water down and gets up from the chair. "I must go," she says. "I will inform the nurse that you need another set of sheets." She walks to the door and opens it. "Ikari-kun and Ibuki-san will be glad to hear that you are doing well."
I can do nothing but simply nod in response.
I look out through the gap between the curtains after she leaves. The sky has started to turn dark; the setting sun reflects off the skyscrapers outside and bathes them in rich amber light.
I should be happy, shouldn't I? The Angels have been defeated. We won. Mankind has been saved. It's all over now.
Thousands of people are milling about out there, heading to their families, lovers, or companions. How I envy them. How many of them have lost the first man they ever loved like I have? How many of them have woken up in a strange room in a strange city to find their life turned upside down--that they had lost their home, their mother for the second time, and their entire reason for living--all within the past eight weeks?
A faint beep from the little box beside the bed heralds another dose of sedatives and painkillers. I feel the fog slowly creep back into my brain as they take effect; I don't bother to fight it.
"No," I murmur to myself as my mind starts to go fuzzy, "it's not over by a long shot."
I close my eye as weariness overtakes me again.
"It's only just begun."
I drift off into peaceful, foggy oblivion.
***
(Not) Author's Note: (2003-12-02)
So, what do you think? ^_^
Well, since the author himself did say "I can't think of anything to say
this time around. Maybe in the first chapter.", I'm sure you can draw at
least two conclusions:
First, there WILL be first chapter. (Yaay!)
Second, there is no Author's Note in this prologue. (Okay, that's obvious.)
Oh well, I guess it's up to me, an innocent bystander who happens to be their friend, to fill the void. This prologue is the beginning of the first project of "Studio 402", a fanfic writers group formed by A. Amishi, Akodo Tim, Fenrir, and Rei_Ikari. "The Courage to Live On" is a multi-author Rei/Shinji fanfic, meaning the story will be written by several writers consecutively. Thanks to Syndikos in Rei-Shinji.cjb.net Forum for coming up with this idea. After some.. discussions about how it should be done, we finally could reach a general consensus and set our gears to start writing. This story can be found in my site "The Tales of Apartment 402" AKA "Rei-Shinji.cjb.net". New releases are posted in the forum first before going to the main site. Please go to the forum for all discussions regarding this story.
That's all for now. See ya! ^_^
Ayanami-chan