AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yeah, it's been a while. I was really busy and before I knew it, it's my senior year and I've lost track of my fanfiction. Apologies to all my readers, at least those who remain waiting faithfully for the next chapter of Limits. Shall we see if I can provide?

Your procrastinating author (who hopes to end all hope that he gets into college),
Sithanas

Neon Genesis Evangelion: Limits
04: Solitude
Misato Katsuragi never liked hospitals, not really. They always struck her as too cold and clean, with that faint tinge of antiseptic that tortured your nostrils with its exquisitely painful odor. Sometimes she wondered why she bothered to keep Shinji around; after all, he was more often than not the cause of her hated hospital visits.

Then again, the occasional hospital visit was more than worth the multitude of happy experiences the somewhat warped Katsuragi household had had since they'd been thrown together.

A deep sigh followed this thought as Misato strode through the doors of the First Cranial Nerve wing of NERV's onsite medical facility. This experience was far from happy, a fact attested to by the pallor of her face, marred by streaks of dried tears and the redness of eyes that had only recently ceased to shed them. Looking around, Misato made eye contact with one of the facility's nurses. There was no need for words.

"This way, Major Katsuragi. I'll take you." The walk through the corridor was brief. "I'll let you go in and sit for a while. When you're ready, please come and see me at the desk and I'll give you the full report." Misato nodded and touched the door's control. It slid noiselessly aside on polished tracks and she entered the darkened room.

'It's quieter than I thought it'd be,' thought Misato. Only the occasional chirrup of a monitor disturbed the unnatural peace of the hospital room. Shinji Ikari lay in his bed, the covers pulled up to his collarbone, his body hidden from view. A pair of slender wires snaked out from under the blanket to the room's monitor spine, which had a single display attached. Colored lines traced their way across the display's rows, displaying the pulse and breathing of the patient. Another line, this one thicker and clear, slipped under the blanket from the opposite side, its origin a bag of nutrient fluid, its purpose to keep the Third Child fed while he was unable to feed himself.

Misato sat heavily in one of the chairs in the room and gazed at Shinji's still face. Slowly, tears began to silently spill from her eyes. She couldn't do anything but sit and stare. She felt nothing except an incredible emptiness, a feeling that something should be coming, but isn't. There was nothing for her to do but watch, and whisper.

"I tried, Shinji, I really did... I'm so sorry."

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged unsteadily into the corridor and managed to find her way back to the desk. The nurse was waiting, and handed Misato a clipboard. She grasped it and leaned heavily on the desk, supplanting her unsteady legs as she read the charts on the printed page.

"Major, the Third Child has experienced serious psychological trauma, of an intensity that's caused him to slip into a coma. I'd like to have something else to say, but honestly, all we can do is wait and hope he comes out of it."

"Yeah. I know."

"Ma'am, I'm sorry. I have to ask you to leave now. Our visiting hours are ending. You could obtain a waiver... but I wouldn't advise it. Go home and try to sleep. Ma'am."

"Yeah." With that, Misato set the clipboard back on the counter. Even the gentle, slow movement seemed to take an incomprehensible amount of strength out of her. Squaring her shoulders as best she could, she made her way to the First Cranial Nerve's exit and back to the surface train that would take her home.

It had been nearly a full day since Asuka had last moved. She lay slumped on her bed, her back against the wall, facing her door and desk. Her eyes were open and staring, seeing and not seeing at the same time. The tears that had trickled down her face had stopped coming, her body finally unable to release the precious water necessary for the task. She no longer felt anything - not sadness, not anger, not emptiness, not the numb feeling of not knowing what to feel - just nothing. It was as if life had ceased to exist for her. All she saw was one word, and all she heard was that same word spoken to her in Shinji's soft voice.

'Sayonara.'

It still shocked her how simple something could be, and yet so complex at the same time. The simplicity of the word belied the strength of its meaning - parting, loss, and incomprehensible yearning. Without even trying, Asuka had broken Shinji and broken herself as a result. And yet, she felt almost proud of him in a way. He had finally found the strength he needed to act for himself. He wasn't spineless, and he wasn't the same housebroken Shinji she had always known. Without trying, she had brought out the Shinji she had always felt was there. Shinji, the Destroyer of Angels. Shinji, the Destroyer of Lives. Shinji... the Destroyer of Asuka.

As she lay slumped on her bed, her hand clasped something cold and metallic. Her fingers curved around a knurled metal grip, her index slipping into a rectangular hole and coming to rest on a thin blade of metal. Asuka brought the antique Colt M1911 up to her head, letting the barrel rest lightly against her temple. She didn't deserve the praise of the world anymore, or her EVA. She had ruined the best person she had ever known. She had made him hate himself more than anything else, hate himself enough to finally want to end it all. And as Misato slid open her door (still without the lock she had once desperately desired), she depressed the trigger.

Misato watched as the trigger moved backwards, the full metal hammer of the antique Colt moving backwards into its double action strike phase. She frantically screamed at her muscles to throw off the lethargy caused by her sleepless crying, to send her flying towards Asuka and to knock the pistol away before it was too late, before everything ended and it would be impossible to pretend that any normalcy still existed. She watched as the hammer reached its apex, and snapped downwards onto the striker and firing pin. She heard the metallic click of steel on steel, saw the pin move forwards, and felt as if she could see the primer in the bullet casing depress and ignite. Her hand made contact with the barrel. The powder caught flame. Pressure built. The forty-five caliber shell began to move down the barrel, spinning from the rifling as Misato shoved the barrel away from Asuka's head. And time snapped back to normal, the slug ripping out of the barrel and into the wall of the apartment, severing several strands of Asuka's hair in passing and possibly leaving powder burns on her scalp. Misato slammed into the wall, her momentum carrying her onto and over Asuka. She rolled off and grabbed Asuka by the shoulders, shaking her.

"What the HELL were you thinking! For the love of god, Asuka! I almost lost one member of this family today, I am not going to fucking lose another!" At the word almost, Asuka blinked, then looked slightly at Misato.

"He... isn't...?" Misato released her and slumped onto the bed, again looking exausted.

"Shinji's in a coma. We don't know when he's going to come out, but we can try to help him by being with him. Not by taking rash action." At this, Asuka slumped back against the wall and closed her eyes.

"I can't help him. I did this to him. I didn't want this, all I wanted was to see the Shinji I knew was there... I'm worthless, Misato. I can't kill angels, I can't do anything. I can't even help Shinji." Misato laid her hand on Asuka's shoulder.

"Asuka, you're part of this family. As long as you are, you'll be worth something." Laying her back against the bed, Misato covered her gently with the blankets. "Sleep now." She picked up the pistol and stepped out of the room, sliding the door shut.

As soon as Misato was out of sight and earshot of Asuka's room, she slumped backwards against the wall and slid to the floor. Fresh tears poured from her eyes.

"All I wanted was a family... I'm trying, I really am. Why do I keep losing...?" She sat there, knees pulled to her chest and head resting on her kneecaps, crying.

Section Two found her there, asleep, when she failed to report in the next morning.

End Chapter 4
End Note: I'm officially an alumnus from the International Academy of Bloomfield Hills, Michigan. Whether that's good or not remains to be seen. And I'm heading off to Michigan State University in the fall, which is very cool. If I'm lucky, I'll even get my IB diploma. That'd be nice.

This chapter was very hard to write. It's getting more and more difficult to put myself mentally in a place where I can write this fiction, and I think it might be suffering as a result. I'm really happy with it up until the part where Misato actually has to start talking to Asuka. That part I'm sort of worried about. Comments please?

Oh, and neither Misato nor Asuka are dead. At least not physically.

Please read and review!

Your loving author,
Sithanas