18. Internal Affairs.

If at first you don't succeed, redefine 'success'.

"Mmm, thanks for the soup, Shinji – a perfect welcome-home gift from my favourite roomie!"

"I'm your only roomie." Though my eyes were closed and my consciousness drifting, I knew with perfect certainty that Shinji was rolling his eyes.

"Still…"

"–Oh, looks like Kaworu's fallen asleep. I'll put his soup in a container for later."

There was a pause, and Misato lowered her voice. "…Say, Shinj', has Kaworu said anything to you about the whole Unit 09 thing?"

"Huh? No – I mean, you were at the debrief…"

"Yeah, I just thought, since you and he are close…"

"Just ask him yourself." Shinji's tone was flat.

"Sure. I'll do that."

"…Misato? What is it?"

"Nothing. Well, nothing specific."

"What."

Though concern coiled in my gut, I could not summon the energy to stir or open my eyes.

"Just … a feeling I have. Based on facts."

"Facts, like…?"

"Like his empty personnel file. Like his ability to sync with Unit 02 before its core was rewritten for him. Like the way he flew Unit 09, as though he'd been born in it."

"How about when he saved Kaji's life? How about the way he defended us against the other Eva series units, or when he went back in Unit 00 even though he'd been really hurt? How about the way he died to save all of us – including you – in Third Impact? The Angel was fusing with Unit 02 and the only way to stop it was to destroy his Eva with him still linked to it."

"Shinji, there's something genuinely off with him—"

"No. I don't want to hear it." His voice was deceptively quiet. "Kaworu gave everything for us, for me. I killed him, Misato! And I trust him."

"Shinji, sit down—"

"And you should, too. It's your turn."

"My turn?"

"All this time, I've been following your orders, doing what you say, even when it hurt me or put my friends in danger, because I trust you. Now it's time for you to trust me. Kaworu is my friend. Asuka and Ayanami's friend, Toji and Kensuke's. Kaji's. He's on our side – my side. Believe in him, Misato. He's earned it."

"…Will you sit down, please?"

There was a rustle of fabric.

"Okay, first off, bringing in Kaji was a low blow."

"I don't care. Promise me you'll leave Kaworu alone – and no going behind my back and snooping around, either."

"All right! All right." A huff of outlet breath. "I'll trust you. It's what family do, after all."

"Good."

There was a pause.

"…He kissed you, didn't he?"

"Ppttbb—"

"Oh gross, clean that up!"

"Hck—you're the one who made me—! Ugh, whatever. …Anyway, that's not why I'm defending him."

"…Wait, what? I was just kidding! Did he really kiss you?"

"…I kissed him, actually."

"For real? You finally got some game, Shinj'?"

"Hey…" The pout in his voice was impossible either to mistake or resist.

"Aww, you're blushing … for a change."

"Are you ever going to get bored of teasing me?"

"Are you ever going to stop responding so cutely?"

"Ugghh."

Misato's voice softened with sincerity. "All seriousness, I'm happy for you, Shinji."

"Thanks." The half-voiced mutter to no degree disguised his embarrassment – or his happiness.

"…But without compromising my promise, I am going to have to give him the shovel talk."

Shovel…? Had my half-awake ears misreported?

"That's okay. Kaji already gave me one, anyway."

He had?

"That's unusually responsible of him."

"Like you can talk."

"Hey…"

"Ha ha…"

With Shinji's amusement and Misato's pout in my ears, I drifted back to sleep, smiling to myself. If this was what families were for, I was happy for them that they had each other.

Many of the stories humans told each other about angels (and Angels) depicted us as instruments of divine judgement. However, like their self-destructive tendencies, the Lilim had hardly ever needed outside forces to be perfectly capable of casting judgement themselves.

"Um," said Misato, "sorry, Rei. Not really working for you."

"I think it looks nice," said Shinji loyally, and almost honestly. "It, um, matches your eyes?"

"They are different shades of red," I pointed out. "Rei's eyes are a deep ruby, whereas the plugsuit is brassier, closer to orange."

"You can tell the difference?"

Misato giggled, for some reason. "Don't question Kaworu's colour-judgement, it's part of his 'demographic', as Asuka would say." Faced with three blank looks from her pilots, she sighed awkwardly. "Never mind…"

Rei had quietly submitted to the appraisal of her appearance in the red Unit 02 plugsuit style previously worn by Asuka, and now donned the headband clips with no detectable concern for their visual congruity on her. "If it assists with synchronising with the Eva, that is all that matters."

"Very professional," said Misato approvingly. "Ready to go?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good luck," said Shinji, and as I echoed him Rei nodded acknowledgement at us. Together with Misato, she headed to the Cage Three bridge for her second attempt at synchronising with Unit 02.

Shinji and I made our way to the observation box. "Did Ayanami look a little uncomfortable to you?" he asked me as we walked.

"Only somewhat. Being the centre of attention is rarely comfortable for her, but it was amongst people she likes, and that would have helped."

"Oh, good. I wouldn't want her to be embarrassed – I mean, she looked a lot nicer in one of those red things than I did!" He laughed self-deprecatingly.

I did not hide my intrigued response. "You wore one of Asuka's suits?"

"Um." He looked as though he wished he hadn't spoken. "It was just that once, when we were on the ships bringing Unit 02 to Japan, and we had to activate it to fight the Angel. Asuka looked really cool in it of course, but I ... didn't."

"I am sure it was fine," I protested in his defence.

"No way, it was totally goofy! I tried to make Kensuke delete it from his camera – he'd been filming everything that day – but he just laughed at me."

"There is video footage?"

"—Urk."

"Then we can settle the debate, perhaps?"

"...Um … I mean, is it something you want to see?" His face was at least as red as the plugsuit under discussion. "Is that what you ... like? 'Cause I guess ... if you're, y'know, into it, then maybe..."

The sudden change confused me. "What do you mean?"

"Uh – nothing! Forget I said anything!" He rushed on ahead. Perplexed, I followed more slowly; I was now almost a week out of hospital, but recovery was as yet in progress.

We reached the observation box (Shinji steadfastly avoiding eye contact) just as the first connections were being made between the pilot's nervous system and the reconfigured core of Unit 02. There was a dull hum in the background, and I thought it sounded strained.

"Initial resonances primed," noted Dr Akagi, surveying the instrument panels attended by the technical crew. "Rei, how do you feel?" I noted the contrast between her tone – purely professional, clinical – and the personal concern Misato's voice could never fully suppress.

# Muffled, # came Rei's reply. She sounded calm, almost bored.

"Hm." Akagi pressed a series of buttons on the screen before her, then addressed one of the lieutenants. "Sharpen conductivity by zero-point-two."

"Yes, ma'am."

"The pulses are still sluggish," reported Lt Ibuki from her station. "Almost seven percent below threshold."

"Hm ... try refreshing from lock nine."

"No effect."

Looking out at Evangelion Unit 02, I wondered what Kyoko was feeling – was she aware of Rei's presence? Did she disapprove? Perhaps she retained a negative impression of the First Child from the time when Asuka regarded her with resentment, or perhaps the remnant of Kyoko's soul was so fixated on her daughter that she simply refused to cooperate with another. My own success in bonding with her, after all, had been a combination of our shared genetic source in the First Angel Adam, and my promise during our communion to care for and protect Asuka. Unit 02, like her sister 00 and cousin 01, was as mercurial as she was powerful.

"Signal from the A10 centre is not being acknowledged."

"Neurograph is flatlining – no correction."

"Can we open channels in the limbic distaff?"

"Negative, it's at the load borderline already."

More activity, more waiting.

"Realign psychometry buffers in zero-flux mode."

"Realigning contacts … Confirmed. …Psychometry still unresponsive."

"Cycle back to primary circuits and restart the quad run."

"Synaptic response is null."

After nearly an hour, it became unavoidably apparent that the trial was not a success. Nothing the bridge team tried had managed to persuade Unit 02 to accept Rei, and persevering any longer would risk psychological damage to the pilot, not to mention the increasing impact of fatigue.

"Okay, I'm calling it there," said Dr Akagi. "Rei, you can come out now."

# Understood. #

"Wow, she sounds so tired," said Shinji. I wondered if he realised that most people of Rei's acquaintance would not be so attuned to her as to perceive such in her subtly-expressive voice.

He had stayed in the observation box during the entire test, though possibly undermined the demonstration of support for Rei by reading a book once the initial novelty had passed; I had compromised my own gesture in kind, by drawing piano keys on some scrap paper and silently practicing Chopin's "Fantaisie Impromptu".

"We could provide her with tea," I suggested, "once she has refreshed herself. The other team will be starting up Unit 09 soon, but I should have time to join you."

"That's a good idea," he agreed, and stretched his arms above his head with a sigh. "Man, all that sitting around made my back stiff." He caught my eye with a mischievous smile. "Race you there!" and ducked into one of the open-frame elevators and immediately closed the door behind him.

Disarmed by his endearing expression, I took a moment gathering my wits. "Hey – wait!" as I claimed another elevator and directed it upwards.

"What do you think a race is?" he called through the mesh walls as his lift ascended.

"What do you think cheating is?" I echoed accusingly, and he laughed.

With his unscrupulous head start, Shinji's elevator stopped at our destination floor first, and he reached the mezzanine lounge outside the locker rooms before me. When I arrived he had acquired a sheepish expression, and tried to duck away as I approached, but I caught him around the neck with one arm and pushed the knuckles of the other hand into his hair – copying a move I had seen (and experienced) Toji deploy on his friends when they displeased him.

"Hah, I'm sorry!" Shinji giggled. When I half-released him he cast a furtive glance around us, then ducked quickly in and pressed a kiss to the corner of my eye (it was unclear where he had actually been aiming). "Forgive me?"

"That is definitely cheating," I said. "Of course I forgive you."

"Um," came a quiet voice – we broke apart and turned, to see Rei at the door to the women's locker room, dressed in school uniform and gripping her satchel in both hands.

"Ah – Ayanami," Shinji stammered. "I didn't see you there."

"You were ... cheating," she said. I realised she was blushing – though nowhere near as severely as Shinji was.

"How are you feeling after the test, Rei?" I asked. I tried not to be entertained by my friends' awkwardness, and almost succeeded.

"Tired," she said promptly, seemingly relieved at the change of subject.

"Would you like some tea?" Shinji offered. "We thought – after all that – it might be nice? We would sit here, or go to the garden..."

"Oh." Her expression softened. "Here is fine."

"Great! I'll get it sorted." He pulled out an armchair for her at one of the low tables, and held her satchel as she seated herself, before heading over to the drinks counter, where as well as vending machines there was an urn and an assortment of brewing ingredients.

I became aware that I was smiling softly after him – his kindness never failed to warm my heart – when Rei coughed delicately.

"You and Ikari are ... together?"

"Oh – yes. Since a few days ago." As I sat in a chair next to her, I laughed at myself, remembering Asuka's visit to my home and the conversation between her, Misato, and Kaji. "In hindsight, the others were entirely correct."

She nodded matter-of-factly, then appeared to hesitate. "He ... chose you, then."

I blinked, and felt again that sudden switch-flick of understanding. "Rei? Are you envious?"

"Envious?"

"Do you still wish that Shinji were yours?"

Her face flushed again. "I ... I am not sure that I ever truly did, not in the way that I understand such things now. I don't wish for him to kiss me on the eye…"

I chuckled. "I don't think that was anybody's actual intention."

"…But perhaps there was a time when I thought I did want something similar to that. He is ... an important person to me. I wish for his happiness, and to be in his life, and for him to look at me with kindness. All these things are so, and I valued and continue to value them – but … when he began to look with desire at Soryu and yourself, I was afraid that he might stop choosing to look at me, stop seeing me as a person. I thought if that happened I might return to being made of straw."

"Straw?"

She looked out through the wall of windows to the visible Geofront, and her voice became distant. "Like there was emptiness inside me, that my existence was hollow. It was Ikari who taught me that I did not need to be that way – it was his consideration for me that taught me I was worthy of consideration, without agenda or reward. And I thought – for a while – that I might be able to hate Soryu, or you, for his interest in you both, his preoccupation. But still – but despite my … uncertainty … I did not."

Almost dizzied by the flood of words from my least talkative friend, I gathered myself enough to respond. "I'm relieved to hear that. Fear and jealousy are very common feelings, after all – many people experience them – and when someone is as significant to another as Shinji is to you, they are understandable."

Her gaze dropped and she stared fixedly at the table, hands clenched in the fabric of her skirt. "I do not want my heart to become ugly."

"Your heart cannot be 'ugly'," I said gently. For her anxiety and self-castigation, I thought my own heart might break. "The human heart is complex, and often selfish – its priority is the comfort of its bearer, after all – but you do not choose your feelings, only how you respond to them in your treatment of others. Did you punish or attack Asuka for your attachment to Shinji?"

"No..."

"And you have only been kind to me. So all is well."

Her eyes meeting mine showed hope and gratitude. "I … think I see what you mean."

I put my hand on hers. "Thank you for sharing what is in your heart with me."

"What is it like to be someone's chosen person?" she asked, almost wistfully. "To be close with and share affection with them? To know that they treasure you and wish to be yours, and for you to be theirs…"

"Oh." I felt my own face warming. "It ... it is ... inconstant."

"Inconstant?"

"The feeling is both heavy and light, gentle and sharp, comfortable and unnerving. Like I understand, and at the same time am surprised." I spread my hands in a shrug. "I thought I was not capable of love – I had never felt it, or imagined feeling it. And yet I learned, without even seeking to."

Her furrowed brow relaxed, just a fraction.

"I regret that I cannot explain more clearly..."

Rei shook her head. "No. Thank you. I have wondered – I never understood human connections or feelings, and thought I would not be able to form bonds with people, or to build real structures in my heart. But you have learned these things – you, who has been separate from others also, and who understands me in a way nobody else does – and so I think that perhaps, I might be able to learn, as well."

I smiled, feeling that I might brim over with affection. "You are already forming bonds with people, Rei. There is no rush, no time limit – to reach the heart of another person is a wish rewarded as much in the effort as the accomplishment. Both the destination and the journey are worthwhile."

"That is comprehensible. I will try not to be impatient, then."

"No one could blame you if you were, but there is no need to be discouraged. The heart is a muscle, and like other muscles becomes stronger with use."

The furrow returned. "That doesn't sound right..."

I patted her hand again. "Don't think about it too hard. Your brain is fatigued from the test, after all."

She gave me a delightfully unimpressed look. "I understand well enough to know that you are a troublemaker."

"Unarguably so."

Suddenly she sighed. "But not well enough to connect with Unit 02."

I waved a dismissal. "She is almost as temperamental as her favourite pilot. Please don't let her reticence concern you."

"She accepted you readily enough."

"I am born from the same matter as most of the Evangelions. I doubt I would have such success with Unit 01."

"Perhaps." She paused to consider this. "Unit 01 appears to only accept Ikari anymore – she rejected me during my last attempt to pilot her, as well as the dummy plug. This is a problem, as it limits our strategic capabilities, but I find myself … pleased. I feel that, in some way, it means I am more my own person, because I am distinct from her. We were created from the same material, but are not the same."

"That is a heartening thought," I said, then looked up at Shinji approached. "And here is some heartening tea."

"They had the toasted rice one you liked," he said to Rei, as he set the pot and cups on the table in front of us.

Her face glowed. "You remembered?"

"Sure."

Looking between them, I reflected that Rei had already succeeded in forging real connections with other people, and hoped she would find in it encouragement for the future, and the more and different bonds she wished to learn.

# Pilot Nagisa, report to the Cage Six bridge. Pilot Nagisa to Cage Six. #

"Damn," I muttered.

"They couldn't have waited a few more minutes?" Shinji pouted.

"They have an anti-tea agenda," I theorised as I got to my feet. "You both should enjoy yours while you can, before they decide to call on you for some duty as well."

Shinji was clearly torn between supporting me and comforting Rei. "I'll come watch when we're done."

I touched his shoulder (he leaned into the contact, and I felt my mood recover miraculously). "Don't worry about it. I am sure everything will go well."

He nodded. "Call me after?"

"Certainly." I had donned my plugsuit earlier, knowing my own test would follow Rei's, so did not need to change clothes; I started away to the operations area with a wave to my friends, before the elevator took me from view.

The regular bustle of base activity surrounded me as I made my way to the cage, but during the final lift to the boarding platform I was by myself. Other noises fell away, and I realised I could hear my heartbeat unusually loudly, and feel it strongly beneath my ribs. As I noticed this, it became apparent that my breath had shortened, and there was a tightness in my throat. A prickling feeling of cold crept over me and through my bones.

Then the doors slid aside, revealing Evangelion Unit 09, and my lurching, rushing heartbeat was the only thing I could hear.

My back hit the wall of the elevator and I tried to gulp in a breath, but it caught strangled halfway. Unit 09 filled my vision – it was the only thing in the world – and I felt again the stomach-drop doom of falling into its cavernous maws. My limbs were leaden and numb; my head whirled as though it would float away from my shoulders.

Was it grinning at me? Was it leaning across towards me? Was I being drawn to it, dragged in a tightening orbit like spiralling down a drain?

"Kaworu? What's the hold-up—Kaworu!"

Something was shaking me. Someone. A dark shape – no, everything was dark. The shaking was outside and inside me.

"Hey – hey, can you hear me in there? You're all right, Kaworu, you're safe. Breathe with me, okay? I'll count – one, two, three, four ... and slow breath out – four, three, two, one."

Pitifully, desperately, I did my best to follow the instructions. Though it seemed to take an ice age, the gasp-grab of my lungs began at last, haltingly, to deepen into functional respiration, though as yet unevenly so. My stomach un-twisted itself; my head un-fogged; my limbs grudgingly admitted themselves to be attached to my torso.

The tunnel vision that had enlarged Unit 09 and blackened all else receded slowly, and Misato's stricken face blurred into view.

"You'll get through this, kiddo – I know it feels terrible but I promise it'll pass. Keep breathing, focus on breathing. You'll outlast it."

Her hands were behind my shoulders. Mine had melted into my knees, but I excavated them to grab onto the lapel of her jacket. The zip dug into my palms, bite of pain confirming that my hands belonged to me again.

"In – one, two, three, four ... out – four, three, two, one. That's the stuff. Slow and steady. I'm here – you're here – you got this."

Though my knees still shook, I managed to straighten them, and as though that were a signal my pulse gave one final thump and then softened to its usual subtlety. I was able to focus on Misato's jacket, and persuade my grip on it to unclench.

I gulped my gut back down, and by nailing my concentration to Misato's chant at last evened out my breath.

"There we go. You're doing great. One, two, three, four. Four, three, two, one." Her thumbs rubbed soothing circles on my shoulders.

I dragged my hands over my face and through my hair. The harsh contact forced the last shreds of awareness back into my body, and I pushed away from the wall and stood, almost steadily, on my own two feet.

"Like a champ," said Misato, and I met her eyes at last. They were such a warm, oaken brown – brimming with human kindness.

Unit 09 didn't have any eyes. How pitiful.

"Thank you," I said, and when my voice croaked I cleared my throat. "I don't know what happened..."

"Looked like a panic attack. You've never had one before?"

…washing ashore from the Sea of Japan after Unit 04's cataclysm… "Is that what it is called? I hope I never have one again."

"Yeah, they're not fun."

"You speak from personal experience?"

Misato waved a hand dismissively. "Ages ago, after Second Impact." She saw my expression, and added hastily, "It got better after not too long. And it's not like I was catatonic or anything, just in shock. And now I've got heaps of sympathy for anyone who goes through that, it feels horrible. But it passes in time, and you come out the other side in one piece. Right?"

"In one piece, yes." I rubbed my arm with the opposite hand. "All limbs present and accounted for."

She chuckled. "Good to hear," and glanced outside the elevator at the boarding platform beside Unit 09's waiting entry plug. "I'll talk to the Commander, get him to postpone the test."

I shook my head. "It will be all right. I can go ahead."

"Kaworu, you're white as a sheet! –more than usual." Her voice gentled. "You don't have to push yourself for this."

The incongruity of an Angel being comforted by a human made me smile wryly. "If Shinji, Rei, and Asuka can continue to pilot after everything they have been through, I cannot do less."

Misato was silent a moment; I looked over to find that she was staring at me with a conflicted expression. "You're really brave, Kaworu." Under her breath she added, "…Whatever else you are."

A startled laugh broke free. "Brave? I am terrified!"

"Exactly."

My brow furrowed in confusion, but before I could request an explanation for this apparent paradox she patted my shoulders. "Hey, will you be okay to wait here a moment? I've just gotta … check on something with Ritsuko. About the test."

"Yes, I will be fine. Thank you for your help."

"Anything for Shinji's fave boy," she teased, and I mirrored her grin.

"He is my favourite, too."

"He better be!" A semi-jocular threat-gesture as she left.

Fatigued but in control of myself, I ventured from the elevator to wander along the access platform, focusing on my centre and steadily regaining equilibrium after the attack of panic. I remembered a time when such uncontrolled mental and physiological responses would have been unimaginable to my carefully-engineered vessel – not to mention the incomplete Angelic form I had occupied prior – but could not begin to regret this acquired vulnerability – not when it had also afforded me the response of affection for the Lilim I had forged my own connections with.

"Definitely worth it," I decided, "for kissing, if nothing else."

There were voices ahead of me; my path along the cage interior ascended a staircase to one side of the observation box, just out of sight from inside, but I was able to peer up into it.

I was in time to see Misato storm away from Commanders Fuyutsuki and Akagi, who watched her leave with little concern.

"Your objections are noted," Dr Akagi called after her, muffled but audible.

"She may have a point," Fuyutsuki said. "Could Nagisa's unsettled mental state hamper his connection with Unit 09 if we don't delay the test?"

"Unlikely," replied Dr Akagi. "Maya's data has established that he can set his synch ratio to whatever he chooses. She doesn't know why, of course."

Another pooling of dread in my gut.

"The advantages of being a human derived from the same base material as the Evas," Fuyutsuki mused. "Adam's flesh and Adam's echo, in natural harmony. Do you think Major Katsuragi suspects?"

"That Kaworu is a construct? Not as such. She knows there's something different about him, but her protectiveness over the pilots, and his battle record, is keeping her at bay for now. If anything, his panic attack today will have only made her more sympathetic to him."

"Good. Make sure it stays that way – Nagisa is too versatile not to use."

"Especially now he's beyond SEELE's influence."

The Commander chuckled. "He started following his own path some time ago. Whatever his agenda is now – if he even has one – it evidently doesn't conflict with defending Tokyo-3 from Angels or rogue Evas. That is the only priority."

"Understood. Will those standing orders remain in place?"

"Correct. When the last Angel appears, Nagisa is not to engage melée, only long-range. We can't risk a repeat of the previous battle's disaster."

Fuyutsuki turned to look out at Cage Six, and I pressed myself further into the wall out of his line of sight. "Continue initialising Unit 09 and proceed with the start-up test for the Fifth Child. We've already been delayed, don't compound it."

"Yes, sir." Dr Akagi headed from the room towards the control centre.

As quietly as I could, keeping to the edge of the staircase, I returned to the access platform above Unit 09's shoulder. My head was whirling again – they knew so much! Of course Commander Fuyutsuki had been aware of my ulterior allegiance, after I helped Kaji rescue him from the Committee, but for him to know that Adam was my bioprogenitor...!

All I could cling to, to forestall another panic attack, was that they apparently did not realise I was one of Adam's true children, the Angels. They thought I was a synthesised Lilim like Rei, spliced from a Seed of Life into humanoid form. That my soul, and therefore my being, was that of the Final Messenger did not seem to have occurred to them.

And now I had cause to be grateful for SEELE's schemes and manipulations – if I could use them as a smokescreen for the deeper truth, if by discovering them the Commanders thought that was all there was to discover, then perhaps I would be safe a while longer.

I stepped up to Unit 09's entry plug, and smiled wryly to myself. I had broken down in fear over remembering trauma stemming from this creature, when without my knowledge greater threats had already approached me.

It had been observed that the safest place to be – during combat, during turmoil – was inside an Evangelion, and while that assertion required qualification, the outside world did indeed bring its own perils.

"Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer," I advised myself, and as I boarded Unit 09, my familiar cocoon, I imagined that I perceived it agreeing.