I do not own the rights to Neon Genesis Evangelion, or any of the characters, equipment, or locations written in this fanfiction. The purpose of this fanfiction is merely for the non-profit enjoyment of other readers. If requested by Gainax, Hideki Anno, or other parties which represent aforementioned objects in this story, I will remove it promptly.
Chapter XXVII:
Reynolds thought I was out of my mind. So did Maya and the few nurses who were forced to endure my presence. "Your cover is blown," Reynolds was shouting. "It's only a matter of time before they come to take you away."
"They won't kill me yet," I sighed. "They want to make sure I'm nice and healthy before they execute me. There's no honor in shooting a cripple." Ben just rubbed his forehead, his mind exhausted. We had been arguing for nearly an hour, and he wasn't winning simply because I was too stubborn. "Besides, you said yourself, she needs a visitor or two to help urge her back from her coma, isn't that right?"
"She won't even blink when a light is turned on," the doctor said. "She doesn't respond to any stimuli. Why do you take my suggestion so seriously?"
"Because it's not her time yet." I stared out of the small window from the wheelchair the hospital lent me during my recovery. "The scenario calls for her to die a most vile, painful death at the hands of many, and for that to happen, she has to be conscious."
"You can't possibly expect me to believe your story, and your very existence here has changed the timeline. You've admitted that yourself!"
"Ben, out of all the various theories people have about alternate dimensions, I find mine to be more accurate and appropriate for this situation." I guided the chair away from the window, stopping just a few feet from Reynolds. "Consider a timeline shaped like a family tree, with two branches that split off at every infinitesimally small increment of time. Each of those branches represents a binary state for every particle's characteristics in the universe."
Ben nodded.
"Everything that was set in motion up to my arrival and has negligible influence on my actions has been either unaffected, or sped up. Regardless, those events still happened. Asuka's depression, coma, and eventual death are still in play as they were determined months ago when she first arrived. I know she's going to recover. The only questions are when, and if I can influence that, can her death be avoided?"
"It's still too risky," he complained. "You're just going to wheel yourself down there after faking your own death, and tell the guards "Hi, I'm here to see the Second Child," and expect them to cooperate?"
"If they don't, I'll shoot them." I replied simply. "By the way, thanks for lending me that hardware."
Ben sighed. "Just please, try to avoid making a scene?"
•••••••••••••
"Hey Asuka," I whispered next to the girl's ear. "Hey, it's time to get moving, or do I have to whip you at something else to piss you off?" There was no response. Soryu just lay there, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. "If you don't start talking, I'm going to let Shinji come in here and do what I think he's going to do. Trust me, you don't want that."
Again, there was no response.
"You were so close, you know that? The Angels are gone now. There's nothing left but to carry out the last phase of my plan, and just kill time until the invasion." I glared at the unconscious figure. "Why couldn't you just be your stubborn Kraut self, and not give in?"
Asuka's right shoulder twitched slightly, but I made nothing of it at the time.
"I have a long, very rough exercise regimen to push myself through the next couple of weeks. If you want to defeat me, now is your chance. Your body is uninjured. You have the advantage." I slowly wheeled myself out of the room, and switched off the hospital room's single fluorescent ceiling lamp.
•••••••••••••
Three weeks passed by very slowly. The only thing which brought me any pleasure was physical therapy. The doctors complained that I was pushing myself, but I was still trying to get in shape during my time at college. I had never had P.E. back in high school. Just when I was making significant progress, I ended up in this universe, with a new body that needed to be honed to it's maximum.
The rec center down in the hospital's ground level was an impressive piece of work, made up of a pool room, and a small but fully stocked gym. The minute the nurse eased my wheelchair into the gym in the early afternoon after the first week, I knew I would be spending most of my time here. They even had a vertical knee raiser station, and full set of freeweights up to 55 pounds.
"That's too much weight!" Reynolds was yelling as he spotted me at the leg press station on the end of the second week. "You hardly weigh 50 kilograms, and you're pressing twice that!" Ben was the best friend I had in there, and since his only duty was being the primary optometrist, he spent most of his free time checking up on me.
"I've pressed up to 583 pounds before," I grunted after my second set of fifteen. "I WON'T fail!" I glared up at Ben, clenching my fists. I took another few breaths, and started the next set. "I have to win!"
"Win against who?" the doctor barked. "The surgeons who told you that you wouldn't walk again, or your previous best?" He was smart enough when he grabbed my shoulder not to startle me, not while my legs were under a 90 kilogram load. "You're not even supposed to be walking briskly yet, and the nurse tells me you're in here trying to beat a six minute mile on the treadmill! Those machines were never set to let you go that fast!"
Once the set was over, I scowled at the man. "Then I'll start running a few blocks outside tomorrow. I doubt you or any of the nurses here could catch me, not if I bothered to put effort into my running." Since the third set was over, I slowly crawled out of the seat at the universal machine, and walked cautiously to the lat pull-down station.
It was another hour that Friday night when Misato showed up. "You know, Reynolds knows more than just eyes," she huffed, striding up to me during the middle of my deltoid regimen. She wasn't in her typical outfit. This time, she was wearing her green khaki shorts, plain yellow t-shirt, and her flight jacket. "The nurses tell me you've been coming in here three hours a day, every single day since they let you in here." I set the 10 kilogram weights back into their spaces on the rack, and turned to face her. "Please, Susan, just... there will be plenty of time later. They just want you to be able to walk out of here."
"Misato," I sighed, "I've been a weakling most of my life." I hated to admit it, but it was true. "It wasn't until college I finally learned how to properly exercise. You know, before I came here, I still had never broken a six minute mile! I was only thirty seconds shy! If I can just-"
The major resorted to her typical response, trying to strike me across the face. However, she and I both knew she wouldn't proceed. I had suffered too much trauma over a very short period of time, especially to my brain. Her hand hung frozen in the air as her eyes began to water. "Jesus, what do I have to do?" she sobbed. "I just don't want you to die! Is that so much to ask?"
"Sixty push-ups in a minute, eighty sit-ups in two minutes, and two miles in thirteen minutes," I answered. "Once I can meet those goals, I will be satisfied with my progress." I gently caressed her right hand, guiding it down to her side. I began to notice ever since I met Kensuke that my aggressive tendencies were slipping away. That last action went completely against my desired response to threaten to sever her spinal cord in three places before she hit the ground. I had a sneaking suspicion my newly recombined genetics were catching up with me. "And no one ever said I had to achieve them here." I set my hand on the woman's shoulder, and held my other up to my face, the thumb and index finger almost touching. "But Misato, I'm this close! Don't take this away from me now!"
"...Okay," she whispered. "But I'm spotting you tonight, to make sure you don't hurt yourself." Then it became obvious why she was in different attire. Setting her jacket aside, she picked up the weights just to the right of mine. She would choose to go one step up, but I understood it wasn't to upstage me. She just wanted to see how strenuous my regimen was. "What's first?"
"You caught me in the middle of deltoids," I explained. "I started about two hours ago."
"TWO HOURS?" she shrieked. "You work out for three hoursall in one shot?"
"Of course," I answered. "Keep the heart elevated at a cardio pace for an extended period of time, all to force the respiratory and circulatory systems to improve faster." I hefted up the weights, let them dangle at my sides, and slowly outstretched my arms, raising them to shoulder height. "Three sets of ten of these, then another three sets of the two other deltoid groups, shoulder shrugs, back extensions, curls, sit-ups, lunges-"
Misato let out a breath after her first rep. "This is going to kill me!"
"Didn't they expect you to be in peak physical condition when you first became an officer with the JSSDF? My buddy back in my time keeps bragging about his eleven mile runs, and tries to get me to join the campus P.T. class for ROTC."
"That was a long time ago," she whined. "You can't expect me to keep up with this!" She glanced down at the floor for a moment, and then noticed my secret. "You're pushing yourself, and you're using ankle weights?" Her voice was cracking. I thought she knew everything about my regimen when she asked the nurses, but apparently they left out a few details.
"Come on, Misato!" I cheered on. "Now is the Springtime of Youth!"
"Right..." she wheezed.
•••••••••••••
Wednesday afternoon on the third week, I was finally discharged from the hospital. I was still supposed to take it easy, and against my desire to succeed, I had to follow it. The training had helped build up my fast twitch muscle fibers, but I had suffered so many fractures, I couldn't jog as I had intended to. I was lucky to clock a nine minute mile with the pain in my legs. As such, Misato offered to drive me home.
"This isn't safe," I muttered, struggling to climb into the car. "NERV-"
"They already know," Katsuragi sighed. "How long did you really intend to hide out like this?"
"As long as it took, until I could get to Unit-04 undetected." The major set her forehead against the steering wheel of the car, and just stared at her feet, eyes glazed over. There were very few times that Misato had a long, serious think about the repercussions of the Children under her command. When she did think like this it was usually followed by, and yes, there it came: the cigarette. She numbly stuffed the toxic stick into her mouth, and breathed in deeply. "So, I guess it's straight back to the brig?"
"Commander Ikari wants you brought up on charges for treason," she whimpered. "If it weren't for some miracle, you would have been discretely disposed of by Section Two in the hospital." Misato let out a sarcastic laugh, and wiped the small tears from her eyes. "Thank the Committee that you will only be disciplined with a minor punishment."
My left arm throbbed as I gently pulled the passenger side door closed. "When did I ever win the Committee over?"
"They seem to have a funny idea of loyalty," the major went on. "Until you can attend a meeting with them tomorrow, you are to stay under my care." A car or two behind us began to honk their horns, as we still occupied the roundabout for patient pick-up. "Alright, I'm GOING!" Misato stepped hard on the gas, the Renault accelerating hard to the right as we nearly collided with some plastic economy car. So much for Misato's definition of merging with oncoming traffic.
"Okay, that's it!" I grumbled. "You're either too emotional, too wasted, or too sex-deprived to be behind the wheel. I'm driving!" It took a few minutes of fighting with her to get her out, and let me slide over. Of course, she had the easy task, walking around the perimeter of the vehicle. With my newly-healed bones, climbing over the center console and into the driver seat was a difficult piece of work.
"Be careful!" Misato wailed. "I still have payments on this thing!"
"And you still haven't fixed the brakes!" I whined back. "This is a precision instrument, a thing of beauty! How can you abuse it like this?" The woman glared, her eyes bloodshot, face quivering. "Alright, that's it. This is how it's going to work. You navigate, I drive. Where is the nearest auto parts store?"
"A-about five minutes away," she stuttered.
"Good," I sighed. "You pay for parts, I install them, and you let me have a few beers as reimbursement. Fair?" Then I thought for a minute. "Wait, is Shinji home? He still needs work on his English, right?"
"...Yeah..." Misato replied. She seemed rather confused, or more likely disappointed a minor under her care would deprive her of a few beers.
"Okay, new plan. You still pay for parts, maybe a couple classic car chase movies, but Shinji, Kensuke, and Hikari work on the car. I supervise, and you reimburse my crew and I with a few beers. Deal?" She was staring at me with disbelief, when I finally chose to break the minutes of silence. "Shinji has had a rough few weeks. Let the boy have a beer. You make him fight and possibly die for your precious society of corrupt degenerates. The best you could do is let him get a little tipsy, and treat him like a MAN!"
"...Alright," Misato breathed. She seemed happier at that point, though. "Why are you going through so much effort?" I gave her a questioning look. "With Shinji, I mean. Why do you care about them so much? You're not even supposed to know them."
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I sighed, putting the car in drive. "Even if you did, your whole view on life would probably change, probably for the worst. Fame never did go over well with the cast of the Real World." From that point on, Misato just stared, trying with her best effort to calculate what possible reality she was living in based on my words. She didn't get too far when we arrived at the auto parts store.
•••••••••••••
Kensuke's jaw hung open in disbelief, while Hikari scowled. They had to walk all the way to Misato's apartment without any form of reward or purpose explained until their arrival. Then again, I had the harder job. I had to not only talk Misato into taking the train to work, but I had to convince her to pay for about four-hundred dollars worth of car parts, and let me drive said car to haul all my greasy tools in the back seat to her apartment. Besides, Kensuke was about willing to worship false idols when I finally revealed the prize. "You got us free beer?" Aida gasped. The class representative just grumbled, shaking her fist. "But Class Rep, free beer!"
"You don't have to drink if you don't want to," I sighed. "No, I'm not trying to corrupt the youth, as you might say, Hikari. One beer won't kill you. But you have to earn it!" They both stared at me. "You did bring some older clothes, right?"
"Yeah," Hikari said. Though clearly she did not understand. She wouldn't have dressed in the knee length skirt and low-heeled shoes otherwise.
"Ugh... Hikari," I began. "Just... ugh... I hate talking to girls." I guided them into the apartment, and after offering them a non-alcoholic drink, strolled to Shinji's room. "Hi Shinji," I started in Japanese. There was no answer, but I knew he was in there. "I can hear you breathing. I bet if I concentrate hard enough, I can hear your pulse." Finally there was a response. The door slid open cautiously, the boy poking his head around the corner.
"WHAT?" he snapped.
"Do you have a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt you don't mind getting dirty?" Ikari stared in confusion. "Hikari needs to borrow something more appropriate for a little work. You're invited, too, if you wish. You might enjoy it." The boy shook his head. "I got Misato to rent us some movies, and let us indulge in some of her beer. Besides, I'm going to teach you something fun."
"What could you possibly show me?"
"Well, if I get them drunk enough, maybe a topless Hikari, but-"
"SUSAN!" the class representative screamed. Horaki folded her arms tightly against her chest, her face beet red.
"I'm just joking!" I exclaimed. "Anyway, really, I want to show you how to work on a car. If we do a good enough job, I have Misato's word she won't drive like a maniac anymore." This seemed to be the key motivator for Shinji. I just had to take it a step or two further. "Besides, Kensuke's here, and we're going to have an improvised party."
"For what?"
"How often does someone come back from the dead?"
•••••••••••••
"Here, hold it... that's perfect!" I smiled, watching over Kensuke as we replaced the wheels. Hikari and Shinji had given up about ten minutes before, after we finished replacing the brake pads and rotors. We were almost done, but I suppose they didn't have the interest I did in this kind of stuff. But at least Kensuke was sticking with it. "Okay, before we get the car back on the ground, let's change the oil."
Unlike what I first believed, as my information was only from fanfiction, Misato's Renault Alpine A610 Turbo was indeed a gasoline car. After a little research online, I found everything I needed to know. The Garrett T3 turbocharger gave the three liter V6 engine just about two hundred and fifty horsepower. Misato had chosen one of the last of the model years, the production run ending in 1995. I had to respect her now. We had a similar taste in cars. I was just hoping I would get the chance after Third Impact to put the Grand National against her vehicle, one turbocharged sleeper versus another.
"Where did you learn this?" Hikari asked. The class representative tried to wipe the grime and grease off her face. Then again, her hands were also greasy, which didn't help. Shinji sat beside her, trying not to blush. While the white undershirt and jeans he lent her didn't reveal anything, I suppose there is something alluring about a girl borrowing your clothes, but I didn't get it.
"I worked at an internship with an auto shop during high school, and the rest was self-taught," I explained. "It's the same with guns. I learned the basics from a few other people, but most was just study." I grinned. "The internet is a wonderful thing. Okay, now for a guessing game. How fast do you think this car can accelerate to one-hundred kilometers per hour?" All of them just looked at me. "Anyone? Bueller?"
"Five-point-seven seconds," the redhead answered as she strolled into the parking garage. "Hikari, what are you doing wearing that pervert's clothes?"
I grinned. "Glad to see you didn't sleep the day away, Asuka."
End of Chapter XXVII
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