AN: Chapter five done. Sorry about the delay everyone, but I'm starting exam season, so updates are definitely going to take longer, I´m sorry but I've gotta study he he. Don't worry, though, I´ll always keep updating, but it´s gonna take longer. Thanks, enjoy!

Scar Tissue

Chapter 5. Fourth Act: Don't Make Me Happy

Loneliness, despair, happiness, sadness, glee, lust, satisfaction, pride, greed, love, hatred.

Initially, those were the quintessential driving forces in the human species. So many other species handled themselves by a natural instinct genetically provided by Mother Nature, said instinct was the best behavior pattern designed after centuries of evolution, a system based on the environmental necessities and circumstances in which said species lived and died. Everything was designed to a beautiful perfection, disturbed only once every millennia. Humans were the upmost exception, most of their actions held no true logic purpose, nor did they aid in the survival of the species itself. Humans were the only ones to commit genocide against their own, along with other species. Humans were controlled by greed and lust, a hunger for power born out of their need to fill a void existing inside each of them.

Perhaps that void was the place mere instinct had abandoned as the evolutionary process continued. Perhaps it had been placed by the powers that controlled everything, placed to torment humanity for attempting perfection. Perhaps that void inside every soul was the greatest testament of the price mankind had paid for their success. Their evolution and advanced control over the environment that had been developed over a relatively short period in time placed them in a superior level over other living beings, yet this advance had come with the deadly price of alienation. An analysis to human history would only help clarify that the model tended to repeat itself, the more a civilization "advanced" or "progressed" , the more estranged humans became to one another. There was hardly any rational reasons for most of the decisions made by mankind, even though the vast majority of the species.

Third Impact had given humanity a glimpse of the fallacy that was a fake happiness, of how truly vain and hollow their attempts to fill that void had been. In reality, that emptiness could only be overcome by the bonds created between them. Some would even go as far as to say the powers that be had placed that void in humanity themselves as some form of insurance policy that humans would remain together and ultimately understand the true meaning of such a curse. Why would all men and women be destined to feel incomplete? What kind of a loving God would create them just so they could suffer? Said God had not done so, for everything in life, at the end, had a reason. In the blind belief that perfection could be reached, humans had attempted the greatest sacrilege, they had tried to become gods themselves to finally feel complete, and in retrospect a depressed, sad, self-hating, insane child had understood that perfection as such did not exist, even if the answer so many sought had been left unanswered by the horrible process.

Bonds, true bonds between humans, bonds between man and animal, man and nature. The true purpose of the hollow depth within the human soul was to be completed by another. There was bit a simple answer to such a complicated question.

Asuka had been one of the few lucky ones to catch a glimpse of this truth, yet she made no effort to try to understand it until it was too late. The trauma, the horror and pain had clouded her mind and heart for far too long. She had been alone most of her life, having to rely on no-one but herself and building a foolproof wall around her heart so that she could never be hurt by the touch of another soul. How was it, then, that a little selfish wimp had managed not only to tolerate her attempts to push him away, but had reached whatever remained of her heart? How could she have allowed anyone, especially him, to reach out?

The boy had betrayed her in more than one occasion. He had let her suffer alone in darkness, he had watched as her mind slowly decayed, he had stood there and done nothing when she so desperately needed him to hold her, to comfort her. Why was he so important now? What difference did it make to her if he suddenly died by her hand? Had he not earned that fate? Had he not been the coward she had always accused him to be? Was he not the hollow shell of a human being she had always thought he was?

Perhaps it was Instrumentality, that moment when they all had been one and all walls or barriers had been crushed to the ground, perhaps when she saw his soul and felt his pain it was when she realized they were the same.

There was still so much hate inside, no matter what she did, she never had been able to fully let go of those memories. Even now when guilt clutched at her heart so forcefully she felt she would break the damn memories came back, trying so hard to justify her rotten actions. Asuka had never before felt so conflicted.

Why weren't you there? Why did you just sit there, while I was eaten alive? Did you at least do something afterwards?

The thoughts never allowed her to rest. She wanted so desperately to just go down on her knees and beg his forgiveness, to hold him and kiss him and feel him there with her, feel the void full at last. Yet every time she braced herself enough to reach the apartment´s door something would stir wildly in her chest and the resolve would vanish. Sometimes she felt like hitting him, and that scared her the most. What if, being there with him in that damn room of that fucking hospital she lost control? Shinji had almost died. Considering his life as an EVA pilot, his life had almost constantly been in danger, but now she was the reason, she had managed to do what all the angels together could not. Not even in the most gruesome fights had Shinji suffered such extensive trauma.

The last tree days had been hell for her, she just stayed around in Shinji´s bedroom, lying on his bed and listening to his SDAT, trying to hold her image of him, trying so hard to forget all the pain he had caused her, trying to remember those easy days, when the angles were still coming, those days were they could pretend to be normal teenagers, those days when her feelings for him weren´t so confusing. Now she had made a giant mess of things, and nobody but herself could ever fix it.

Asuka could not muster up the courage to even call Hikari and talk to her, or answer any of the brown-haired girl's phone calls for that matter, she wasn't sure she'd handle her only friend to turn her back on her as well. Misato was around, but she could feel the woman´s anger whenever she has present. Sometimes she would feel so alone and helpless that anger would invade her mind and she´d hit anything on her vicinity. Other times she felt lack of breath and some deep sense of hysteria, akin to the horrible coldness that had frozen her chest when she had seen Shinji lift himself off the floor and puke blood repeatedly. She was unstable, angry and afraid almost at all times, it was torture.

After spending tree days attempting in vain to hide from reality, Asuka decided to at least make something for him, just like he always did for her. Whenever she was sick, or the cramps would turn painful at that time of the month, Shinji would always prepare some kind of food that would be exactly what she needed. In reality, there was nobody who knew her like he did. She wished she could say the same.

She had never asked Shinji if he knew about her mother; maybe he did and took pity on her, seeing that in the end she was nothing but a sad, sad little girl crying for mommy. he knew, for certain he did, after Instrumentality he was sure to al least pity her miserable childhood.

No, he wouldn't pity me. He knows I hate pity, in any case, it was like…empathy.

So, what to do for a person you've tortured for eight months? How to apologize, how to explain your actions? What could she tell him? What could she do for him? The answer had come in a culinary solution. If there was one thing Shinji loved, it was cooking for his small family; she had seen it many times, the way he so utterly enjoyed cooking for them both, or watching how they enjoyed the dishes he prepared. Maybe if she cooked for him, maybe he´d understand that she did not want to hurt him anymore, that she just wanted to talk. Was that truly the case, however?

Could she trust herself not to yell at him, not to fall into her old, violent ways? The memories were always the problem; they kept her confused and helpless, angry and depressed, all at the same time. She would think of the disgusting thing he had done in the hospital and feel furious, insulted, used and betrayed, the old hatred breathing fire into her soul, but then whatever remained of her conscience would fight off the hatred with the horrible image of him crying, actually crying after she had taken his virginity, and hers along with it. Her own tears meant nothing after such a hideous act, so why did she feel like breaking down every time the memory resurfaced? What right did she have to reject her own horrible actions?

Whenever she dreamed of his failure in her final battle, of the pitiful way he had acted when she had for once asked him to help and woke up screaming his name in rage, the insults would haunt her all day long, the memories of the past eight months were her subconscious´ favorite weapon against her. That morning had been particularly gruesome. Even though she had cleaned every last inch of Shinji's room, it still smelled like blood to her. Whenever she closed her eyes she would see those eyes, dead, glazed and absent as he lay unmoving on the floor. Whenever she tried to listen to his music, that scream would reach her mind. The sound was heart-wrenching. The redhead had Instrumentality to thank that she could remember something that had happened after her death; she recalled his scream vividly; if insanity had a sound that horrible scream would definitely fit into the category. It all became too much, and before she knew what she was doing she had headed to the kitchen.

The initiative to go see him had not been born out of determination or bravery to facing her actions, the apartment had simply become too much of a prison for her to bear; every inch of it triggered a memory and most of them were so terrible she thought she was living them again. So she decided to put her meager knowledge of cooking into use and prepared a chicken soup, then placed it on a plastic container and left for the hospital, barely remembering to shower and change beforehand.

All of her self-imposed torture had led to this moment, and she couldn't, for the life of her, think of anything to say. Shinji was sitting up on his bed, he looked somewhat healthier than he had in months. His skin was still a shade too pale and he was still too skinny, but his eyes didn't hold that dead look anymore, at least not at the moment. The young man's head was bowed; he was unwilling to face her still, his eyes were wide and frightened, his gaze firmly set on his hand, which was clutching the sheets somewhat urgently. His breathing was labored and the machines around him beeped and annoyed a bit faster. So Misato had not been lying. He was terrified of her.

"Um…Hi." It was the stupidest thing someone of her intellect would have said in such a situation, but then again, she wasn't thinking clearly at the moment.

Shinji almost winced at the sound of her voice, but the softness of her tone stopped him from doing so. Maybe she had been having nightmares; maybe she felt lonely and needed to…Oh God, if she asked, if she demanded it, then what would he do? He was in no condition to help her at the moment. What if she threw the soup on him? He could already feel the side of his face going numb and almost cold for a second, before the heat would consume his being and his skin began to literally melt-

She talked to you, you idiot, answer her, don't you dare be rude to her.

"Hi…" He whispered back, still not meeting her eyes.

Asuka gulped, looking at the tray in her hands. She was able to re-heat it the soup in the ward's kitchen, it was steaming and served on a plate, a feeble attempt to make it presentable and inviting. Shinji, however, was not even looking at it. Suddenly she wanted to scream at him again, she felt the anger rise up to her throat, yet the girl forced herself to relax, swallowing the vile feeling back as if it was some bitter medicine. Asuka quickly reminded herself that she did not deserve to be the object of his attention, at the moment she did not even deserve to be dirt under his shoe.

"Um…sorry you had to be dragged here, Asuka, I know you don't like hospitals. I... tried explaining to Misato, I hope she didn't give you too much tr-"

"Stop." Finally, he raised his head to gaze at her, his eyes wide in surprise and fear, probably believing she was going to insult him or hit him.

Not anymore. I have to make things right, I have to at least try.

"Shinji, listen. I… I know what I did, so, stop apologizing. You not guilty of anything, all right?" It sounded lame even to her. She tried with all her might to push her old tone into her tone, to sound a tad reprimanding even.

The boy flinched and averted his eyes from her, turning to look at his cast. His right arm itched sometimes, but it was impossible to try and scratch it, even the slightest movement would send him into a world of pain. The sling was heavy against his neck, which made breathing even harder. Was he supposed to say something? Apologizing had become such a normal response to anything that happened around him that he honestly did not know what to without the always reliable `sorry´.

Asuka forced herself to draw closer to him, walking slowly and carefully to stand next to his bed. She had to suppress yet another biting remark as she saw him flinch at her approach. It felt like trying to feed a lost little puppy that had been kicked around too much to trust humans.

Shinji wanted to die again. The smell of soup was intoxicating, and his aching stomach was reminding him it had been empty for well over a week, and it was very displeased with him for it. His feelings were so confusing he felt was likely to faint from the swirl of emotions the young redhead provoked with here mere presence.

He wanted to run away, to flee from the pain she was surely going to inflict on him; maybe she was pretending to be nice again, pretending to treat him nicely so that she could see his face fall into despair as she struck him, or inflicted psychological pain with her cutting words. If such was the case, he wished she'd just do it already and be done with it. Was she just going to stand there by his bed, holding the tray in her hands? Was she not going to throw that soup over him? Could it be that she truly felt sorry for what she had done?

Why would she feel guilty? She's the only one that treats me like I deserve, what happened wasn't her fault…

Confussion assaulted the redhead, as well. She had run so many scenarios in her mind, from the best possible endings to the worst, yet she found no words to address Shinji. She had gone way too far, just seeing him on that bed made that fact clear as day. Under that white hospital gown his chest was snugly covered in bandages, under which long incision lines traced up and down the left side of his chest. They had had to open him up, fix the damage done to his lungs and then try to place his shattered ribs back in place. The concussion could have been worse, in fact, a couple of inches further and she would have hit his temple and kill him.

The silence had stretched out for ages now, anyone who passed and was able to catch a glimpse of the strange scene developing inside room 203 would have been drawn to its bizarre atmosphere. A redheaded girl, dressed in a bright sundress, standing rigid with a tray in her hands, while a boy sat on the hospital bed, still connected to so many machines, looking down at his left hand. The sepulchral silence broken only by the occasional beep was disturbing to say the least.

After too many minutes of discomforting quiet, Asuka sighed again and sat on the chair to Shinji's right, placing the trey on her lap. She wanted to look at him, but some parts of his face were still slightly bulged from when she´d hit him in the face, there were some small wounds just below his eyebrow, courtesy of the small shards of glass that had embedded themselves below his eye. A couple of inches further… and he would have lost his eye too.

"Look, I know you think I'm going to do something to you, but I'm not. I… I don't know if things can ever go back to normal, or if I or you even want things to be like they were, but… but … I just had to do something. I'm not mad, Shinji." She gazed at him, offering the tray with trembling hands, attempting with all her might to look confident, to hide away all her insecurity, all her self-hatred and the guilt, the unbearable guilt.

Shinji's eyes were wide beneath the brown tresses; he could not believe what he had just heard. Asuka…was not mad? For the past eight months, the only emotion she had ever displayed with him had been anger, even during their…night activities; she always looked so angry, so furious. He was unable to meet her gaze. Every time he looked at her he saw Unit Two's head being brought to him, the mighty behemoth's eyes dangling out of their sockets. The last dream did not exactly help matters, however muffled by the sedatives it was.

She did that, she did it for me, take it, move damn it, move!

Like a frightened little child, Shinji raised his head slightly and lifted his arm to take the offered food, but he didn't think he could actually place it on his lap.

Asuka notices the problem right away and lifted herself to place the tray in the boy's lap, ignoring yet again his frightened yelp as she neared him. She wisely averted her eyes from his, she didn't think she had the strength to watch that terrified expression. Upon finishing the task, she took the seat again and waited for him to try it, and resisted the disturbing urge to bite her nails.

Shinji turned his gaze to the plate in front of him, facing the simple yet delicious smelling dish. Hesitantly at first, he took the spoon lying next to the warm plate and tasted the meal, instantly being taken to culinary heaven. Five days of anesthetic induced coma and three days of eating nothing but the tasteless slurp served by the hospital came down on him as he swallowed the first mouthful of soup. It was a bit hot, but it tasted so wonderful he couldn't care less, even the slight pain in his left side every time he swallowed did little to stop him from devouring the heavenly broth brought to him.

Had he been paying attention to the former Second Child he would have seen her body visibly…unclench as he all but slurped the soup whole. She had been worried he´d reject her food, but seeing him eating so vigorously eased her heart in ways she could not yet describe. It was the first time she had ever cooked a meal for someone other than herself; she had never even made one for Kaji. This was the right choice.

"So, did you like it?" She asked in all honesty, true curiosity blossoming in her voice. The boy nodded happily and smiled at her, his face for once devoid of the crushing fear and the haunted look that haunted her dreams.

"Yeah…it was very good, Asuka. Thank y- thank you very much, I haven't had anything but hospital food for the last couple of days" His stomach satisfied, Shinji felt a lot better than when waking up, he just hoped, prayed even, that this was not another dream that would turn into a horrifying nightmare. He prayed and begged deep within himself that the Asuka standing in front of him was real, that her kindness, however limited as it was, was not just another new and original way for that thing to torture him with. He pleaded the redhead wouldn't snap at him for whatever reason, so he avoided any confrontation by once again averting his eyes from her and staring at the now empty plate laying on his lap.

Asuka's good mood darkened instantly when Shinji turned his gaze away from her yet again, choosing to stare at his lap instead. Why could he not look at her? Was she such a horrible human being that being in her presence for too long would corrupt his soul? Was his soul not rotten already? Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? She had gotten through all that psychological shit, through all that suffering and heartache and nightmares, and he couldn't even grant her the decency of looking at her ?

"Why won't you look at me?" It came as a whisper, but it was laced with poisonous anger. She was reaching a breaking point, and if that spineless wimp didn't measure up the courage to at least lift his sorry eyes at her, then things would get ugly before thy got better.

"Why won't you ever look at me in the eye, damn it!? Why do you always have to be such a fucking wimp!? Look at me!"

Asuka stood from her chair, and before she knew it she was hovering over him, hands balled into fists and eyes glimmering in dark anger. The moment the words left her mouth she gasped, her eyes widening in shock, her hands uncurling and dropping at her side. Shinji had tried to move away from her but had clearly upset his injuries. He winced audibly, his good hand clutching the left side of his chest lightly. He started coughing, his eyes almost bulging out in pain. Luckily, the sedatives started working their magic before he could upset his injuries further. A loud beep was heard as the machine in charge on the anesthetics delivered a generous dose of muscle relaxants to his blood.

Shinji knew whatever he said, it was coming; he could already feel the slaps, hear the insults, feel the heartache. Maybe it was the drugs slowly working their way into his brain, but something inside of him wanted to tell her why, wanted her to know, why though? Had she not been the one to tell him never to look at her? The fear was eating him alive, yet some stupid part of his brain desperately wanted her to know. He dared not raise his head, but he spoke, surprising both her and himself.

"I don't feel like I deserve to. After everything that's happened, I just…don't feel worthy to even…look at you…",He trailed off, staring intently into her eyes. He knew she was going to hit him anyway, maybe finish the job and kill him already, but what difference did it make anyway?

To say Asuka was amazed would have been a humongous understatement, she was frozen in shock. So that was it, he honestly believed everything she had said to him. Oh.

Ohh God, Oh… I..I…I never knew…oh my God, the things I said to him…UUgh…Why…why didn´t you say anything? Why...why did you let me…do this to you? Why, Shinji? You thought you deserved the things…the things I did to you? You idiot…! You could have talked to me!

He tried, you pushed him away, you cursed him away, you used him, and he broke. Look at him, he seems fine for a second and then everything crashed to the ground the moment you open your big, horrible mouth.

She needed to leave, needed to think. The air in the room was hot, dense and unbearable. Shinji was still saying nothing, scared as a kitten in a fire. He thought she was going to hurt him, so he tried to escape the pain. Could she blame him?

"Oh…"

Shinji´s breathing started to deepen, his head dozing for a second before he managed to clear it. The sedatives again, drawing him to the depths of his subconscious, but he didn't want to sleep, he just knew the monster would use Asuka again, and those were the worst occasions. The memories, the memories were like acid to his heart. The looks she would give him, so full of disgust, so radiant with hatred. Falling asleep was more terrifying than being in Asuka's presence.

The former Second Child stood there, her arms useless beside her as she watched the boy squirm about. She wasn't looking at him, more like focusing on a vacant point above his head, trying her hardest to forget she had come close, way too close to hitting him. For fuck's sake, a couple of seconds further and she would have probably done something she'd regret greatly. If Misato even heard she had been here, much less that she had screamed and insulted him again… It was like a trigger reaction, when the right buttons were pushed she would lash out at him.

She needed to leave, if not she could hurt him, and she didn't want to anymore, she couldn't bear seeing him in pain. So she did what he would have done, at least she thought it was what he would have done. She chose to run away.

"Uhm…I'm…glad that you liked the soup, sorry about…yelling at you and…stuff." Before Shinji could react, she gently took the tray from his lap and headed for the door. She just needed to get away, to think, to puke, to do something to fight off the brand new wave of self-disgust that was already eating her alive. Before she reached the door, she heard him whisper again, except his voice was level, not exactly frightened, but tired and cautious, yet filled with gratitude.

"Thank you, Asuka."

She froze at his words, then regained whatever senses she had and nodded dumbly, her back turned to him, it was better that way. If Shinji saw the depressingly sad expression on her face he´d probably laugh. She exited his room the moment the metal door slid open.

It did not take long for Shinji to lose consciousness. His mind drifted back to his personal hell, to the memories and the decaying form inside his subconscious. There would be no rest for him that day, no solace. He could already feel the thing coming close, he could hear it breathe, he could smell the rotting flesh and hear the thumps of its heart, beating in perfect synchronization with his. In the blink of an eye, he was standing in the apartment's kitchen. For once he thought this would be another nice dream, but his door opened and there it came, staining the yellowish carpet as blood leaked out the beast's numerous injuries. The wounds were always in a different location, not that it made any difference to him. His mind was once again frozen in a dread so powerful it even erased the ache of his own wounds for a moment.

'Hmm… How shall we start today's session, Shinji, dear? Oh yes, I have an idea. She came to see you today, hm? Made you soup, did she? Don´t get it wrong, you worm. She just felt bad for your pathetic state and decided to indulge you with her presence, not like you deserve it, anyways, or do you?'

Funny how he could only answer the monster when it asked him, demanded him to.

"I don't. She…she shouldn't have bothered, she should have just hit me and gotten it over with."

"Hehe… Don't you just love it when your little lap dog is well trained? Good answer, you bastard, it's good to know you understand your place. Now, for today's activities…"

He dreaded what it had in store for him. For eight months it had been nothing but a voice, yet it still tortured him with as much intensity as it did now that it had shown itself. He just prayed with all his might that it would not use the memories, those horrible memories that solidified and burned into him the one truth that had ruled his life ever since coming back from the sea of LCL. Asuka hated him, she hated him very much. The sight of him disgusted her and he deserved every last bit of it. He honestly wasn't trying to earn her forgiveness by staying with her and taking the abuse, he simply could and would not run away from her again. Never again.

"Hey, you brat! Don't you dare avoid me! Thinking about her again, are you, Shinji? Maybe there's some hope in you? How about we go back to say… three months ago, that delicious little time when she beat you up in the kitchen? Hmm? How about it?"

No, not those memories, not the abuses. He had secretly hoped, deep down, that Asuka maybe was a bit sorry for what she´d done, and maybe… just maybe they could start over, maybe they could walk to school together again, maybe she´d tease him and mock him good-heartedly, and they could talk, and-

"Well well, looks like I was right after all, that little get together with 'sister dearest' did some number in you Shinji, hhaahaha… You actually believe she gives a crap? Why don't we just go back three months to make sure, shall we?"

Shinji wanted to launch himself at the monster, but as always his body refused to cooperate with his broken mind. He stood there, forced to relieve every insult she had unleashed upon him that day, that day not too long ago, when he had told her they were the same. Everything but that day…

He tried yet again to scream as the scenery of the kitchen shifted as if were a kaleidoscope, dissolving and refocusing into the same small kitchen, only this time he saw himself preparing dinner, a small smile on his face as he stirred the noodles for his pasta and cut the vegetables for the linguini sauce.

He had almost forgotten the thing was standing there, looking just as horrifying as before, dark, clotted blood always dripping and staining wherever it stood, the smell of a million rotten corpses never leaving his nostrils. Of all the memories, of all the terrible situations he had lived through, it had chosen this memory.

"Now then, let the show begin…"

The beast turned its head to him, it's red eyes glimmering in anticipation and hatred. The predatory smile returned, the deformed features twisted in a snarl of satisfaction as Asuka's room shot open and the enraged girl all but marched to where "Shinji" was cooking. Again, he attempted to scream, but his body betrayed him. He stood there, forced to watch as his fingers were broken and his heart was stepped on…

She kept her composure long enough to bring the trey to the kitchen and head to the elevator, but the moment the metal door shut it all came crashing down. Asuka slid down against the wall of the elevator, bringing her knees to her chest and clutching herself as tight as possible. She could faintly taste the blood coming from her lower lip; she was biting it as hard as she could to keep herself from breaking down right there.

Shinji truly believed every insult she had hollered at him. He whole-heartedly believed he deserved to be psychologically tortured every day, he believed, with every fiber of his being that he was a worthless monster, a rapist, a murderer. Those had been her favorite phrases when dealing with him.

Why had he no yelled back at her? Was it so hard to hate her? She was a horrible person, her actions alone spoke volumes.

She just couldn't control herself most of the time, he would be cleaning, or cooking, or maybe watching TV with that pathetically depressed expression and something would burn from the very depths of her soul. Some of the times she had truly wanted to stop, like that time when she had broken his hand, she had never wanted things to escalate so far, but every time she looked ay him she remembered. She actually saw him sitting, his knees drawn to his chest, being pathetic as she was killed. She saw him lying on his bed on the days following her mind rape; saw him doing nothing as her mind decayed. He hadn't even tried to look for her when she ran away. The memories were always so real…

Instrumentality had some bizarre after-effects on everyone; some of the less mentally balanced "returnees" would suffer from almost vivid flashbacks of their lives before, during and after Third Impact. Some had actually lost the ability to separate reality from memory and had lost themselves in their minds. Someone with a trauma history like her or Shinji were obviously more likely to suffer from such "after effect".

Funny how she thought about all those things, pondered about the true reasons behind Shinji's actions, actually tried to, yet found herself unable to relate to his pain. He had been right, they were the same, the only difference was that he had gone through much worse. For eight months now, eight fucking months, the girl had known nothing but anger, disgust, displeasure. She had learned nothing from Instrumentality; she had come back because of her hatred, not of her hope. She had rejected Shinji when he had tried to reach out to her…

"If I have to be with you, I´d rather die!"

"Nobody cares about me anyway, so everyone just go…and die…"

Ding. The elevator.

Shit, again, the same thing, getting caught up in her own mind was so frustrating, she was acting like a lunatic, for fuck's sake!

Asuka uncurled from her position on the elevator's floor and made herself as presentable as possible. She felt some wetness on her cheek and realized she had been crying again.

"Shit, get it together, Asuka. I have to be strong now, I have to fight." She shook her head a bit to clear it, and walked out of the elevator and into the seemly endless hallways of the Geofront.

Heh, of all the things the big dogs could've done with SEELE's money, they build this hellhole back first, never mind the hundreds of thousands still living in those ugly UN shacks, nooo, just go and build this place back exactly how it was, even if there are no EVA´s or angels anymore. Ughh.

She left the humongous compound with a sigh of mild satisfaction. Coming here was always torturous, both the Geofront itself and the hospital ward on its lower sections held horrible reminiscences she would be happy to never think about again. She was very tired of thinking so much, tired of eating breakfast and dinner with Misato and pretending there was nothing wrong, when the purple haired woman obviously wanted to "talk" to her. The strained tension in the household was tangible, it choked away any joy. She was tired, so tired, so her body went into autopilot to tried and focus on nothing.

The redhead walked home that day, keeping her mind as blank as possible and trying her hardest to relax. It was a hot day today, so she was glad of her clothing decision, the sundress was always a great choice for any occasion. Nice breeze, but the sun was a bit too violent, maybe she´d have to put some olive oil on her shoulders when she got home. She was a bit hungry, she could go and buy something at the Ramen shop or get an ice cream on such a hot day. So much rubble everywhere still, sometimes she had to jump some pretty big rocks, so empty too.

She wanted to talk to Hikari, maybe she'd call her only female friend one of these days. Emphasizing on the calling part, she was not strong enough to resist Hikari's word face to face, she just wasn't strong enough, not yet. A building torn in half, shit, eight months and there was still so much rubble. There were so few lights in the night, in comparison to the old days. The moon was stained with blood, some masterpiece Wondergirl had done, she never knew the albino to be a painter…

When her mind came back to the real world, she was standing in front of the apartment´s door, staring at the card lock with an empty gaze. Home wasn't home without Shinji, that place was nothing but a cave for two lonely, unstable women to brood around without their house-broken, unstable male companion. The former Third Child was the glue holding the three of them together, and she had been too stupid to realize it.

Sighing, she retrieved the key card from her small purse and opened the door, letting herself in.

"I'm…home! Hey, Misato, are you th-", The words caught in her throat as she saw the brunette sitting on the table with Misato. Hikari was in the apartment, and she didn´t look very happy. Oh God. Oh no… The freckled face of her friend turned to her, an ugly frown dominating her features.

"Asuka, we need to talk."

TBC...

There it is! Whew, it took a while, I actually finished this sucker on Sunday, but I spent all of this time patching it up and such. I hope you all liked it, it sure was a pain to write under so much college related stress, but hey, as I've said before, I love writing this story so don't worry about a thing. The next chapter might take a while, as I said before, but if takes longer than expected I´ll make it longer to compensate the wait. Anyway, stay tuned for Hikari and Asuka´s talk, it'll be very tasty. Again, I apologize for the delay, remember, reviews are my driving force, so, read AND review! Your honest thoughts, good, bad, worse, cool, whatever, constructive criticism is the best besides positive feedback. Well, I'm rambling yet again, so thanks you all for reading and supporting this story! Love to you all!

PEACE.

D.B