AN: DONE! Sorry for letting so much time pass, but I ws busy with colledge until the second week of December and after that I kinda went to the beach and... well, I stayed there for about two weeks. It's finally done! You'll find a couple of changes in this chappy, I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for reading and for your support, you keep me inspired! ENJOY.

Scar Tissue

Chapter Seven. Sixth Act: Hours Of Wealth

Nightmares

Have you ever had nightmares? Have you ever experienced the terror of your worst fears manifested in its most abominable form? Did you ever wake up and thank the Lord that everything you had just experienced was in the realm of the non-existent? Did you ever wish to never, ever suffer them again? Were your nightmares so vivid, so horrible, so vile and rotten and insufferable and repetitive that you wished you could simply turn off your brain at night? Have you ever woken up crying hysterically, clawing, sweating and scared to death? Have you, any of you, been tortured by your own subconscious?

I have.

For eight months, my stupid mind has been trying to tell me something, something of substance, but I was too blind and stupid to realize it. For ten years it has whispered in my head, again and again, what I am, what I could be. But most of all, it´s been telling me what I'm not. I'm not strong, like I lead people to believe. I'm not brave, I'm just stupid. I lack any sense of self-preservation people normally posses, I was born without it, or maybe it was taken from me when I was very young. Anyway.

You know the worst thing about nightmares? They're not some demonic possession, they're not images put in your resting brain by an evil being who´s only purpose is to torment the living. They are your fears, your memories, your mind.

Hey, you, I'm talking! Pay attention, damn it! It's not every day I open myself like this, so you better listen up. Sometimes you have these flashbacks in your dreams, really vivid flashbacks, and that´s the proof of what I´m talking about. My mind has been telling me, for eight months now, that was I was doing was wrong. But I'm stupid, I think that's been mentioned enough.

You know, the only nights I spent peacefully were the ones with him. I always told myself that it was okay, that I was using him and nothing else, but that would be lying to myself and I'm tired of that.

I've always been an insufferable person, nobody ever gave me a second glance because I'm an annoying bitch. The only thing I ever had was EVA, EVA, my pride and my body. And there's the thing.

He didn't care about either, not really. He cared about something else, me. And I couldn't stand it, but he could, he could stand being around me, and not because of my body or my skills.

That thing in the hospital? Well, let me see you get ripped of your empty little life, get thrown into a gigantic bio-mechanical weapon by the father that tossed you aside like some used up clothes and all but forgot you existed, just to go off and face monsters so horrible and terrifying, so unnaturally strong that you just freeze at the sight of them. Oh, and here comes the best part.

You get thrown into an empty house with a drunken slob of a woman who treats you like nothing less than a convenient maid and a soldier, and me. So, yeah. Oh, wait, you haven't heard the best part. You get abused, both physically and psychologically by almost everyone around you, you get isolated and suffer the worst experiences inside and outside that horrible machine. You watch your friends get hurt and killed, while you both serve the drunken bitch and put up with my shit. You get a first seat into Hell and climb onto a self-destructing roller-coaster that ends up by making you hate yourself so much that you just don't care anymore.

So. Do I still blame him for that? No, I don't. I Understand, but it took me too damn long and meanwhile...

Let me ask you something else.

Have you ever been tortured? Actually tortured? No? Thought so, you see, this boy I'm telling you about, well, he's been tortured. Me? Have I been tortured? Well, yeah, of course I have, but not as bad as him. Maybe at some point, but how do you measure that? Who cares at this point? This boy, you see, he's a bit stupid too. He's stupid because he cares too much and he's fragile. But he's not weak, no-o sir. If you could have seen him sometimes, the strength he had, you´d be surprised. He can rip anyone off to pieces if he gets pushed hard enough. You know his friends? Well, let´s say that one o them punches me in the face, right in front of him. I bet you, I BET you, that he´ll break that big monkey to a bloody pulp in a manner of minutes. He´s scary when he´s angry, very scary. I´m afraid of that side of him, because I don't really know it at all. He never gets angry, not with me at least, and the time he did get mad, he killed me.

Okay, back to the point. Hey! Pay attention! So, he's strong, but stupid; his heart is so pure, even after all that's happened that he just goes off and does anything for anyone. So shy, so withdrawn, but so caring, so nice. He can care for you so much that no matter how cold, how broken you are, you end up caring for him too... and that's the thing.

For people like me and him, getting close is terrifying. So we draw each other away because we don't know how to deal with people. No, that's wrong. I don't know how to deal with people. He just wanted someone to be nice to him, someone to hug him and care for him and ask him how his day was and help him clean up and travel with him…

But he's stupid, and you know why? He goes off and cares for someone like me.

I'm something of a monster, I'm very ugly inside, you know. I hurt people, it's all I'm ever good at. Really, I'm not even that impressive in my EVA, if you could see what he could do with his… Anyway, torture.

Think about this, alright? Good. Let's go back to what I was saying before, you get to watch your friends die and all that… Then you get this choice, kay? You get to choose to carry out the plan of some crazy old fuckers who couldn't get laid, or you get to survive the most horrible experience you can imagine. Oh, and I failed to mention, by this point, you no longer give a shit, you just want to die because the last person you care about, the only person who you would go for help, is being dismembered right in front of you. Let's suppose you reach out to that person, you're so desperate for that other one's recognition and presence that you cross all existing borders and dimensions and what do you get? You get a kick in the balls, you get spat on the face. Then they offer you to be one with everyone and live in endless universes at the same time, they offer you peace and calm, and most of all, they offer a solution to the pain, some kind of anesthetic.

So you accept, and everything is blown to hell. And you know what? It felt nice. It was a beautiful escape, I'll admit it. But it was nothing more than that, nothing more that an escape, people were just running away. He didn´t run away. He understood and gave us all a second chance. He came back, and I followed him. I still don't understand why exactly, but that´s beside the point. What really matters it's what happened afterwards.

I started working on him you see, I started doing the thing I do best and I didn't care about morale or anything. I just wanted to hurt him, nothing more. I swear to you, I felt some sick pleasure in watching him squirm, just for a second, sure, but it was there. And yet, when I think about it now, it makes me sick. Literally sick, I've been puking lately, but not because I'm bulimic or some crazy shit like that. No, simply put, the weight of my actions is crashing down on me, and thinking about it makes me sick with myself.

So, imagine that after all that shit, you get beaten every day. Aside from that, you get insulted, you get hit for no reason, you can´t sleep well, you serve as a slave for someone else and you get… raped. Abused, used for pleasure. Then, you get beaten so hard, with such brutality, that you die for two minutes. Your heart stops, literally stops, for two minutes. Can you imagine that? No you can't. No-one can, not unless you've suffered it yourself. And I'll let you know the worst part.

This boy I'm telling you about, he doesn't hate me. He doesn't push me away. He keeps coming back to me, coming for more pain and blood. Why? Why does he do that? Can you explain it to me? Why would anyone do that?

Anyway, I was talking about nightmares. Do you want to see mine? Do you want to put yourself in his place and measure your strength to his? You think you could take what he has taken and still get back up? You think you can live all of this and still care for someone that treats you I've treated him? Let's see then.

I'm Asuka Langley Sorhyuu, and this is my nightmare, this is my memory.

This is my penance.

The hits on his flesh felt disgustingly gratifying. Her mind kept screaming at her to go on, while something else, something in her chest, told her to please stop, to leave him be. But how could she? How could she, after seeing that smile on his face? Did he think he deserved to be happy? The little worm… Again and again she pounced on his body, again and again she slapped his cheeks; it never seemed to to tire her. Everything was buzzing around, she heard nothing but her own heart beating in her ears. The world faded but for the memories of being dismembered and devoured.

The boy didn't fight back, he simply let himself get beaten to a pulp on the ground of the decaying building. It had been more five days since they had returned to the world. She had run away, had come back, they had talked, she had hit, and so here they were.

Finally, she stopped when she noticed the boy's eyes were closed. His entire face was bruised. The right eye was bulged and purple, evidence of her violence on the second day. Some of the blisters had exploded on her fists, covering her hands with grimy liquid and blood, his blood. Never before had she seen him so horribly abused. The hunger stopped at once, and all that was left was the numbness. She had done this to him.

Asuka paused on her assault, and upon observing her handiwork she jumped away from him and recoiled on the wall, as if more contact with his skin would burn her. The inside of the small store was trashed, shelves were on the ground along with many of the products they so desperately needed. The walls were heavily damaged by the explosion, the ceiling had fallen onto the structure itself, yet the door was left untouched. They had come in the building for supplies and Shinji had found some dried fish. He smiled, and she pounced. It was that simple. He had no right to smile, the murderous beast. Idly, she rubbed her neck, tracing the small lines his nails had left while digging into her flesh.

As she watched him, however, she wondered If he should have finished it. The image of him lying in a small pond of his own blood was terrifying. The fact that his chest was steadily rising and falling brought little comfort.

She raised her hands to her face and gasped. The knuckles were partially covered in blood, some sprinkles had even hit her face. How far had she gone this time? How much would he take before he tried to kill her again? She had lost track of time for a while, she didn't know just how long she had sat on him, hitting, biting, screaming, clawing. It had happened again, she had blacked out again.

Had Shinji recovered his consciousness at that moment, he would have witnessed an expression on the girl's face he had never seen. Shame. She was swimming in her own shame at the moment, attempting in vain to rationalize what she had just done. The knuckles were red still, red with his blood.

Asuka lifted herself off the ground, moving closer to him. This time her mind was screaming something else entirely. Get him up, it said. Help him, it said. The logical side of her mind told her she would be all alone in the world, so it screamed at her. 'Do something, he can die. Do something. Do something!'

Extending an arm to the fallen boy, she was about to lift him off the ground when another part of her mind whispered, pouring venom into her heart. 'Remember', it deadpanned. 'Remember what he did, remember what he´s done. He almost raped you. He used you, then left you to die. He abandoned you. Let him die. Let him rot.'

So, to her great disgust, she listened. Soon enough an ugly frown took over her pretty, if somewhat skinny face. She walked away, leaving him cold and alone, lying on the broken cement. She had beaten him to unconsciousness, and then had walked away, leaving him to die.

Asuka was forced to watch herself walk away, immobile, in her nightmare. She wanted, craved desperately to move, to kick her own ass and tell herself just what would happen in eight months, just to what extremes she would be willing to go to see him in pain. But she could not move, because this was her penance. She would be forced to watch helplessly as Shinji was tortured, again and again and again and again. By her.

"No…" She whispered, as the other Asuka walked away from the store, blood still on her hands.

"Stop… Help him…" She wanted to move, to cradle his head in her lap and caress that soft brown hair and whisper sweet nothings into his ear to make him feel better. But she could not. Her body would simply not respond.

"Stop it." She said, louder. Hysteria. Such a choking feeling, yet such a familiar one. At that point, she thought of nothing else but her defeat at the claws and jaws of the EVA Series, and the fact that Shinji had made no move to help, even when she knew, deep in her mind, that he couldn't have done anything with his EVA covered in Bakelite as it was. But when had she ever cared about such things? When had she ever even considered another one's point of view, even after Instrumentality, even after his own memories bounced off in her head?

The Asuka in her nightmare kept walking away. Shinji did not move.

"HELP HIM!" She screamed to herself.

"It wasn't his fault, I get it!" She fell to her knees, crying. Shinji did not stir, but she could hear his voice coming from everywhere. A murmur, pained, desperate and agonizing. Again and again, she heard his voice whisper the same three words, as if trying to convince himself.

"I deserve this, I deserve this, I deserve this, I deserve this, I deserve it, I deserve it…"

She wanted to whisper back to him, to tell him it was not his fault, but was that true? Had he not taken the final decision in the end? Had he not chosen to kill everyone? Had he not… masturbated in her face? Did he truly not deserve it?

Shinji finally moved, he painfully rose from the ground, his eyes dead and hollow, as he kept whispering the same thing over and over and over again.

"I deserve this, I deserve this, I deserve this…"

"No, you don't!" She screamed back in despair, hands curled into fists. "I get it! Stop!" Her body was parilyzed, however much she wanted to, Asuka could not move to aid him. She was condemned to watch him suffer by her hand.

The scenery changed. Broken buildings were replaced by camping houses, the smell of rotten fruit faded under the sandy aroma of the sea. The only things that did not change were the two of them. Asuka was still on her knees, now fallen onto the white sand of the sea of LCL. She recognized the settings, it were the UN shacks they had been forced to live in for over two months, waiting for any new "returnees" and having to share everything, from food to toiletries. She could see Shinji standing there, with the same dead, uncaring expression on his face. The glazed expression used to arouse the darkest, sickest parts of her, seeing him so indifferent to the world he had destroyed and the people he had hurt made her want to rip off his arms and shove them up… Well, she had done worse than that.

Why? Why was her mind torturing her like this? Why could she not dream of being eaten alive? How she craved for those dreams now, to feel the Lance on her eye was far more acceptable than to watch as she tortured, literally tortured, the only boy who had ever cared for her for a reason beyond that of her appearance. Even if he had indeed done horrible things to her, he cared, so very much he did.

Said boy stood facing the endless ocean, his face held no expression as his eyes held no feeling. A psychologist would have compared his state with that of an autistic child, but there was none but her to watch such empty eyes, eyes that used to be so expressive, so full of emotion, even if that emotion was sadness. After Third Impact the only thing she could see in his eyes was emptiness, as if he was simply waiting to die. Bastard. Everything had to be handed to him, even death.

So he stood, barely moving to change his weight from one foot to the other. What could he be thinking about? What was so important that it absorbed all of his attention? Why did he only smile when he cooked, or cleaned? What kind of a monster was he? And why, why oh why did she have to listen to her own thoughts at that time? Was watching not enough? Was relieving her worst action not enough?

"What are you doing, standing there like an idiot?" She asked cruelly. `Dream´ Asuka approached him, but he made no motion to move, or answer for that matter. Hundreds of people could be seen in the distance, going over their own devices. Since they were the "pilots", the other returnees used to stay well away from them, especially after being subjected to Asuka's wrath.

She shoved him once she closed in on him, making Shinji fall to the ground. Standing over him with a dark scowl on her pretty face, she bent over to glare directly into his face, which still held no expression whatsoever.

"Just what the fuck is wrong with you?" She growled at him. Shinji was not looking at her, though, his eyes were focused on a place above her head. He was ignoring her, the little pervert. So this was it. She had to tolerate all the annoying, unfocused, blabbering returnees, she had to help dress, explain and tranquilize them, she had to listen to Misato's crap day in and day out about how things would get better and all that, and on top of everything she had to stand HIM.

"I asked you a question."

-Slap-

"Answer me, now."

-Slap-

Snarling at him, Asuka did not change her position over him, if anything she closed in on him. In order to straddle him, she dropped to her knees on top of Shinji. It was difficult to explain how people simply allowed her to do to him what she pleased. Nobody ever said anything. Then again, there was a group of returnees that loathed the boy just as much as her, and saw the truth as clear as her.

Shinji was a monster. And he was still ignoring her.

Asuka grabbed the him by the neck of his T-shirt and drew his face close to hers.

"So, you tell me you like me and all that shit and you don't answer when I talk? What kind of a man are you, anyway?" She asked, mockery evident in her tone. Shinji made no move to talk, but he averted her eyes from her, and for the first time some sentiment was reflected in his blue pools. It was his turn to look at the ground in shame, as if he was ashamed of his little speech on that fateful first night. Bastard.

"Ohh, that´s right, you're not a man, you're just a stupid, stupid little boy." He refused to raise his pathetic face to meet her glare, refused to answer, yet it was inconsequential. She could see it, the pain. So there was something left in him, the bastard could still feel pain. Good.

"What, are you waiting for your precious little Wondergirl?" A small frown appeared on his brow at the mention of the blue-haired girl, making the fire in Asuka's heart burn in misguided hatred for them both.

She could only see these things, see them as a stranger watching a revoltingly disgusting movie. She could see him on the ground, feeling sorry for himself and everyone else, waiting to die. She remembered, even then the mere thought of him dying was terrifying, perhaps she assaulted him because she needed to confirm that he was still alive, that he was still with her, as he said he would be.

`Dream´ Asuka lifted her fist to strike at him again, but something happened. Yes, she remembered that day, the only time she had consciously stopped her assaults on him. Yes, this was it, the first time he had regarded her presence with raw, unbidden terror.

Just as the fist was about to find it's target, Asuka stopped. The look on his face was indescribably terrified. It was almost the same fear she had seen in his mind during Instrumentality. Raw, unbidden terror. Terrified. Petrified. His eyes were wide open, his expression for once filled with emotion. She couldn't hit him, not when he looked like that, not when he appeared to be something he was not. She could not him if he looked like a scared little child, instead of looking like the monster and coward he was, she could not strike him when he looked so small, so helpless and so afraid.

"I hate you…" She whispered instead, retracting her fist. Fifty or so yards away from them, the small crowd that had developed to watch her pummel him died down, quickly loosing interest in what appeared to be another shouting match. Meh, who cared if there was no blood? Good entertainment was hard to find in the stinking shacks.

"I hate you so much." Red bangs covered her eyes, as her balled fists held onto his already ripped and dirty shirt. He did not respond.

"I hate you." A tear found it's way down her cheek, falling onto Shinji's face. Now that she was witnessing this, suffering this again, Asuka wandered just who she was referring to, just who she hated so much. She was trying to convince herself that he was the aim of all that hatred, but it was nothing but a lie. She lay on the sand, watching the person she truly hated the most.

Herself.

Then something happened, just as she remembered. Shinji lifted an arm and wiped the tear from her face in an impressive show of spine and courage. At once, his eyes locked with hers and she could see him, the real him, the Shinji that had rescued her from the volcano so long ago.

Still on the ground, he cupped her cheek with tenderness, almost lovingy, for once staring into her eyes and not looking away.

"Don't cry." He said, his voice low and even. "I know what I am, and I'm... sorry, but please, don't cry." He looked as if he was ready to burst into tears himself, but he didn't. Heh, he had always been the strongest of them both.

But she didn't care about that at the time, so Asuka slapped his hand away and punched him square in the jaw, leaving him on the ground again. The scene dissolved, and suddenly she was at their apartment, walking towards the bathroom. Yes, this was one of the worst memories she held in her mind, one of the worst things she had ever witnessed. Coming from someone who had watched Armageddon and survived, it was saying something.

This time, she was not an expectation watching her own actions, no; this was an actual reliving of a traumatic experience. She finds herself walking to the bathroom, her inner thighs feel like they are on fire, remnants of the night before. She feels dirty, uneasy, unclean. A bath cleans the body and soul Misato had once said, perhaps a bath is what she needs to stop feeling so absolutely dirty, a sentiment like this has not come since the 15th raped her mind, yet it is different from the mind-rape. It is dark at night, around . Misato is asleep, drunk again after coming home too tired to even eat. The apartment is deadly quiet, no movement can be seen, heard or felt. As she nears her destinations, it comer to her attention that the bathroom light is on, yet no sound comes from inside.

There is a feeling on her chest, something she hasn't felt for a long time, a cold shuddering sensation that grips her heart, ah yes, fear. Cautious now, she grips the handle and slowly pushes the door open; waiting for the worst, yet nothing prepares her for what she witnesses. As she enters the small bathroom, she spots the boy sitting in the tub, naked. The knees are drawn to his chest as his body shakes with cold and something else. He does not see or acknowledge her presence; furthermore, he does not acknowledge anything. His eyes are distant, unfocused, staring at the bathroom wall.

She wants to scream, to hit him, to kiss him, to do something, yet she doesn't. The boy stares unblinkingly ahead, not bothering to even feel the freezing water around him. There is a knife on the side of the tub, sharp and ready for usage, yet it remains on the ground. Yes, this was the first time they had become one, this was the aftermath. She is glad to see no red stains on the crystalline water surrounding him, but the situation is so strange she does not know how to react. She remembers, ooh yes she does, she remembers what comes next. She touches him, grazes his shoulder with her left hand, her unscarred hand, and he flinches. But the boy does not break away from his trance, he remains on the tub. He is cold, his skin is freezing.

She wants to speak, but cannot. So she abandons him again, turning her back on the boy that did the same so many times. Then it begins.

She hears as his body rises, water spattering on the porcelain floor. A clattering sound is heard as she directs her eyes to him. He holds the knife in his hand, his left clenching and unclenching as the right grips the handle so vigorously that his knuckles turn white. His eyes remain empty pools of burned blue, yet this time he sees her, watches her, contemplates her. So this is it, she thinks, this is what's going to happen. The boy will take his ultimate revenge on her flesh, he will take her life once and for all, as he should have done long ago.

He stands naked in front of her on the small bathroom. The space seems too little for them both, making Asuka feel trapped, unable to escape. The logical side of her mind knows this is a nightmare, this is not real, but it feels so real. Shinji stands facing her, knife in his hand. Slowly, he raises the weapon to his chest, the tip aiming directly at her. She braces herself for the strike that is to come, closing her eyes tightly, but... nothing happens. When she finally opens her eyes, she is horrified by the image that assaults her. The knife traces lines along the boy's chest, blood oozing out of the fresh wounds. He holds the knife, expertly carving on himself, yet his eyes do not change, he does not scream nor whimper. The carving doesn't stop.

Soon, the marks take form and she is able to recognize the symbols on his flesh, kanji clearly stands on sight on his chest as blood continues to run down the wounds. The knife is still in his hand.

`My Fault.´

Such is the message written on his flesh, written by himself. She cannot move, every sense is overloaded with terror and shock. He moves at last, his hand dropping the knife as his arms launch themselves at her and cold hands grip her shoulder. Desperate eyes search for her as insanity overwhelms his gaze. His mouth is open, berthing heavily on her face. He seems like he needs to tell her something, but cannot.

This is not real, she thinks, this is impossible, she thinks. Why then, does she feel his blood on her night T-shirt? Why does she smell his breath? His eyes are frantic, threatening to consume her in his madness. Finally, something is uttered from his parted lips.

"My fault…" Then, Shinji screams in her face. She recognizes the sound.

Everything dissolves and at once she is assaulted by the image of Unit 1 floating over the Geofront, at the face of Armageddon. The mighty behemoth roars as it rises to the skies, and she screams as the white predators reach closer to Unit 1, still feasting on her Evangelion. Her scream is silenced, however, when the now familiar sounds deafens her and the world all around spins and burns. Then there is darkness.

The last thing she sees are his eyes, insanity glowing in his blue orbs as he chokes the life out of her. She can only hear him whisper, again and again…

"My fault, my fault, my fault, my fault, my fault, my fault. MY FAULT!"

He screams in her face, and she swears she can hear her own neck snapping.

"Stop!"

Asuka woke with a violent jerk. After many labored breaths, she realized her skin covered by a layer of sweat. It took a moment for reality to sink in; she had just had a nightmare and was actually sitting on Shinji's bed, clad in his school shirt. Dim light illuminated the chamber, signifying it was morning already, the smell of badly cooked eggs coming through the door indicated Misato's failed attempt at a decent breakfast, again. How she missed Pen-Pen some days.

"Damn it…" She whispered hoarsely. If it was morning, then that meant she wouldn't be able to weasel her way of visiting Shinji again and would have to see him with Misato hanging around. It was bound to be more than awkward.

The nightmare still fresh in her mind, Asuka rose from here bed rubbing her neck, idly recalling the feeling of his hands around it as he squeezed the life out of her. She was truly afraid of what the shy boy would do given the chance to take revenge, but she knew he would never do anything of that sort, again.

"Damn it… Stop tormenting me."

Asuka looked out the window, breathing the cold morning breeze and gazing at the city she had learned to call home. Going back to Germany was out of the question, there was no place to run away, so she stayed in Tokyo 3, the only place where she was still somewhat welcome. Germany held nothing for her.

"Shinji…" Did she like him? Love him even? Why? What did she know of love? She was a teen, and broken. He... had been an idiot, a selfish bastard, a screw-up, he had abandoned her. But, he was the only one who tolerated her, the only person to listen, actually listen as she ranted about nonsense, Shinji was the only one to be there for he in any way he could, even if that meant he would get hurt again and again. The least she could do was visit and try to make things right. For once, she would get hurt herself if that brought the boy some peace. Maybe she loved him, after all, whatever that meant.

"I… I think I'm too young to understand." She whispered to herself.

"Understand what?" The redhead spun instantly, startled by her guardian's voice. Misato was leaning against the door frame, her brow furrowed in slight worry.

"You don't have a stomach ache again, do you?", asked Misato skeptically. For almost a week now the girl had managed to evade visits to the hospital. Knowing she was more than unstable, Misato had decided to give her whatever time she needed, even when she knew Asuka was just running away.

The redhead puffed her cheeks and frowned at the mention of her tactics.

"No, I don't have a stomach ache, Misato," she answered hotly, glaring playfully at the purple-haired mother-figure in front of her, "I feel fine, thanks for asking."

"Yeah, sure," answered Misato, smiling faintly at the sarcasm in Asuka's voice. "You want some breakfast?"

Asuka grimaced at the idea of consuming the bio-hazardous acid Misato called soup or the horrible attempt at making eggs and coffee. How someone could actually ruin coffee was still a mystery to her.

"No thanks, I'll make something for myself thank you very much." Asuka smirked as her guardian's face turned red in indignation and her cheeks puffed in anger.

"Fine then, Mrs. I´m-too-good-to-eat-perfectly-good-food, you can go ahead and cook for yourself, you ungrateful brat!" With that, Misato stuck out her tongue and closed the door with mock-anger.

Alone once again, Asuka´s shoulders sank. She felt undeserving of the care she received from Misato and the tranquility she felt when in Shinji's room. She´d have to go see him, and there was no running away this time.

"- the reports so far are inconclusive. What we do now at this point is that there´s a great lack of supplies both in the UN refugee camps as well as some third-world nations, such as Cambodia and Vietnam, which are suffering a severe lack clean water and proper living conditions. The damage so far to the crops and overall production of the United States is insufficient to support the growing population and the still crashed economy. Furthermore, the uncertainty grows in the world's populations regarding the question of how and why the so called Third Impact has come to pa-"

Switch.

"In other news, a new riot occurred in Singapore at 5 o'clock local time. Two men are reported severely injured in the incident. Our sources have confirmed that the fight took place when the distribution of food and water to the refugees was interrupted by two young men in the search for supplies for their families. The young men were then viciously assaulted by UN officials and then left to the-"

Switch.

"You wanted me, here I am. "

"I wanted to see what you do, and you didn´t disappoint. You let five people die… then; you let Dent take your place. Even to a guy like me that´s cold."

"Where´s Dent?"

"Those mob fools want you gone so they can get back to the way things were, but I know the truth. There´s no going back, you´ve changed things. Forever."

"Then why do you want to kill me?"

"Jajajajajajaja! I don't… I don´t wanna kill you! What would I do without you? Get back to ripping off mob dealers? No, no, no, no, You complete M-"

Switch.

"-more of this as it develops. This is just in, we've received a confirmation that the former Third Child, Ikari Shinji was admitted to NERV's hospital in Tokyo 3 after what it appears to be a case of domestic violence. So far, NERV has refuses to leak out any information regarding Ikari´s condition or the severity of his injuries. For more than a week and half the boy has remained in the confinements of the reconstructed remains of the Geo-Front with no contact to the outside world. We've tried to interview his friends, but they seem to be forbidden from speaking of the boy´s condition by the very organ-"

Switch. Off.

Shinji sighed.

TV was, for a lack of a better term, as droaning as always. Just as he remembered, there was always someone suffering or some new terror haunting the big cities. Nowadays, news covered everything related to Third Impact and NERV, as was to be expected. The media had been one of the first businesses to get back on its feet and thankfully so had NERV. Had it not been for the organization´s influence he would be surrounded by cameras and annoying photographers all day long. He had suffered such attention months before, and that experience had taught him he´d be very happy of the media never, ever got involved in his life again.

"God, this is so boring!" Truth be told, Shinji was starting to lose his sanity in the stupid white room he was confined in. He was already on the verge of a breakdown from the tenuous physical therapy sessions, which left him feeling like Unit One had taken the liberty of stepping on him repeatedly, on top of that, he couldn't go and sleep it off because the hospital staff had reduced both the serum treatment as well as the blessed muscle-relaxants. So, he couldn't sleep for half the day and when he slept, he had nightmares. On top of that, the pain from the injuries was letting itself known with the reduced doses of anesthetics. Oh, and he had to go around with the stupid IV wherever he went, the only good thing about being able to move was the fact that he could go to the bathroom unassisted. Never mind the fact that he was on the verge of collapsing from pain every time he exerted himself or breathed too deeply.

"Nothing decent on TV… that movie with the weird guy with paint looked kinda interesting I guess…" Shinji slumped deeper into his mattress, wondering when someone, anyone, even a nurse would come through the door and brighten his miserable day. Sure, he was treated like a king and could technically call a nurse at any given time, but he did not feel like making the hospital staff believe he was a snobby brat.

"This is lame."

He missed Asuka. There, he admitted it. Even after all they had gone through, even with all she had put him through there was no denying that she kept life interesting around the house.

I am so messed up, I keep thinking about the crazy girl that uses me as a punching bag… I'm really... so fucked up…

As it was custom, some sort of depressing memory kept him from enjoying the relative peace provided by the temporary retirement from his duties in the household. The boy could honestly say he was glad for the silence of the room and the kindness of the nurses in charge of feeding and tending him, but the damn boredom as starting to make him crazy. Nothing decent on TV, no friends to talk to, no energy to carry him around, he felt miserable. On top of the boredom, Ritsuko had designed a special diet for him, because apparently he was too skinny and his immune system was on the verge of collapsing. The young Ikari had never been one to eat much, and now he had to literally wolf down mountains of tasteless, horribly cooked hospital food. His friends, always so attentive, brought him snacks and home-cooked meals, like the ones Hikari brought for him, which he gladly devoured. They could only visit so much, nonetheless.

Left with nothing better to do than sulk about the lack of proper entertainment material in the useless box called television, Shinji boiled in his boredom.

There was a hiss and a click as the entrance to his room opened.

The boy's neck gave an audible crack as he directed his eyes to the door, two blue eyes glistering with endless hope, only to be brought down as the nurse leant her head out the door, looking sheepish.

"Oh… Umm, hi Misaku-san. How are you today?" Asked the boy, smiling faintly at the nurse.

"Hi! I'm great, Shinji, thanks for asking! I´m sorry to disturb you, Shinji-kun, but… it's time for your therapy." Said the nurse, accentuating her cheerfulness to painfully obvious false levels. She knew the sessions took a lot out of him, but hell, if she could get a small smile out if him from time to time, then… then she would tolerate seeing him in pain on a daily basis, even when it hurt so much to watch him suffer, the boy that had already suffered so much for them all.

If even after all of that pain he had gone through, she could get him to smile for a second, then it would be worth it.

Shinji rolled his eyes in aggravation, biting down a curse and some few colorful insults to the insufferable bastard that had invented physical therapy exercises.

"Oh. Great." he replied with a hint of sarcasm and a frown.

Asuka found herself hating Third Impact, and not for the obvious reasons. If there was something she missed dearly was the ability to use a freaking car, even if that meant having to predigest everything she ate in order not to puke when driving with Misato. The woman seemed to be hell bent on breaking every one of the transit laws while induced under the effects of alcohol. Be that as it may, she´d rather suffer the near-death experience that was Misato´s driving than walking down the broken roads of Tokyo 3.

The woman herself, having drank a beer before leaving as custom demanded, was happily strutting on the road, occasionally jumping over a piece of debris. What had gotten her in such a good mood was still a mystery to the redhead. She walked happily under the light sunlight, unaffected by the cold breeze, feeling apprehensive.

The bowl felt heavy on her arm, and she wished she had remembered to bring a sweater; the weather was starting to turn chilly. She wondered how things would go this time, how Misato´s presence would influence in her behavior regarding Shinji. She hoped everything turned out alright.

"Hey, whatcha thinking?"

Asuka seethed silently, attempting in vain to maintain her calm demeanor. Just what the hell was wrong with that woman?

"Nothing." Uttered the angry teen, wondering if the former Major had taken some Valium or some other prescription medicine on her way out of the apartment.

"You seem awfully happy today. Good screwing last night or something?" There, she thought happily as Misato's face list the smile and the Major's cheeks flushed bright scarlet.

"NO! Not that's any of your business anyway, but I do have a reason to be happy today." Announced Misato proudly. Asuka merely lifted an eyebrow as she evaded a big piece of rock.

"Yeah, right. So, mind telling me what that is?"

"Noooooo." Replied Misato, hopping along happily. Asuka frowned, gripping the bowl's holder tightly. This time, she made a nice stew with chicken, shrimp and vegetables. The young redhead didn't know so much about cooking, but necessity for once had let itself known as Misato's food turned bio-hazardous. Her first try at stew and she had gotten it somewhat right, that was the reason for her own good mood. She felt quite proud of such an accomplishment, the only thing that would help brighten her day even more was getting Shinji's opinion on her creation.

"Bah, whatever. You're such a child sometimes." Puffing her cheeks again, Misato glared at Asuka, but decided to let it slide for once.

"You're one to talk." Muttered the older woman, deciding to not allow her high spirits to dampen under any circumstances. Finally, after all that hard work, she found someone willing to take her responsibilities answering to the United Nations and the governments. Finally, no more work outside or NERV and a limited schedule on her part, she was a happy puppy.

She'd be able to spend more time around her male charge, and she'd be able to watch Asuka's behavior and try to figure out just what was wrong with her. Aside from the fact that she'd had a horrible childhood and had been a part of the end of the world. She knew some of the things that had transpired during Instrumentality, but most of it was fuzzy and unclear. By talking to the girl she could pershaps understand when and how Shinji and Asuka´s relationship had turned into a sick codependency, one that despite all the horrors it carried, had kept them both alive.

Hopping along, she decided to forget about it and concentrate on dodging the rocks around her. The big crater on top of most of Tokyo 3 left the Geo-Front quite discovered to the common eye. Soon, the entrance to the massive not-so underground surface could be seen, and in an instant Misato's good mood went straight to the toilet.

NERV's main entrance elevator was stuffed, literally stuffed with what seemed to be reporters, cameramen and paparazzi. Oh, how she hated these bastards, always sticking their dirty noses where they didn't belong.

Asuka felt her heart skip a beat as they neared the entrance of the Geo-Front. She had never been a patient person, but reporters were one thing she definitely could not stand. There was almost always an urge to strangle the meddling bastards every time they tried to get some piece of gossip about them. Her hatred boiled with more intensity by the sheer number of them awaiting by the gate.

So off they walked, two young women with growing frowns going straight to the belly of the beast. Given their background, both women knew that sooner or later the word would get out and the media would have a feast with their "family" situation. Should they push their luck that day, they were most likely to hear what said young women thought of them, delivered in a less than friendly manner.

"Look! It's the Second and the Major!"

And so, all hell broke loose.

It was a truly impressive sight, for an ordinary observer. The speed with which the photographers, reporters and paparazzi moved was truly astonishing, the need that shined in their unforgiving eyes glimmered with lust for information. At once, they began attacking without mercy.

"What are your comments on Ikari Shinji's state?!"

"Is it truly a case of domestic violence?"

"Are you involved in the UN's withdrawal of funds to the country?!"

"Can you tell us anything about Third Impact?! Why does NERV refuse to publish all the information!?"

"Ms. Langley, are you involved in a physical relationship with the Third Child? Is it true you have sadomasochism tendencies?"

"Asuka! Misato! Over here!"

"Just one more picture, can you turn on your side?"

"How bad are Ikari's injuri-"

-BANG!-

Even more astonishing than watching the media agents run to fresh gossip was watching them run for cover while attempting to record the events transpiring.

Misato shot her gun again for good measure. She wasn't about to let the sly bastards of the media ruin her good mood or Asuka's relative stability.

"Alright, all of you! This is government territory and you are NOT cleared to be here! Leave now, or you WILL be shot!"

And that was that. Muttering angry remarks among themselves, the media gents were left once again with their cameras confiscated and their prides and dignities diminished by the unholy organization called NERV. Satisfied with the results of her weapon, Misato placed it back in it's holster and breathed a sign of relief. She turned back to Asuka, motioned for the girl to follow along to the main elevator and started walking.

The visage around the once proud Geo-Front was still very much depressing, even after the intensive reconstruction. The crater that was once the center of Tokyo 3 was being closed little by little, as the buildings rose once again. However, the effects of the massive explosion in the city had devastated everything. Every little piece of infrastructure had to be done from scratch, which in turn required massive manual labor and steady income to be completed. Both items were lacking, therefore, Tokyo 3 still looked like a massive crater, and the Geo-Front appeared to be a slowly reviving no man's land.

As they came down the elevator, both women were able to appreciate the efficiency of modern technology. Almost half the base was already reconstructed; the signs of Asuka's fight with the MP Evas and the explosion were slowly fading. The massive pyramid stood proudly in it's rightful place.

None of them talked on the way down to the infirmary ward. The good mood that had blossomed in the morning had all but dried out thanks to the media's interference and the crude reminder that they would have to face reality at some point. The situation was extremely ugly, as a matter of fact, if the government and Social Services decided to stick their noses in the issue, then everything would fall apart. A new wave of stress descended upon the young redhead, and worry edged yet again on Misato's gaze.

Not saying another word, they went to visit the one person holding them together.

Said person was being literally tortured at the moment, at least that was what he would´ve said had someone asked him about it. Physical therapy with a damn cast on your arm and your ribs broken was the worst punishment he could possibly imagine. Just walk, they said. Breath, they said. Breath deeper, they said. Yeah, sure, never mind the fact that he felt an orchestra of broken glasses moved alongside his chest whenever he breathed deeply or exercised. The doctors had said that he needed to get his diaphragm back in shape, but hell, not even two weeks had passed with the stupid serum on his system and already they wanted him to do therapy.

"Ugh! Okay, that's it. I can't do this anymore." Slumping against the wall with a painful grunt, Shinji gave up. The boy was sweating profusely, trying to breath and failing miserably; the long incisions in his chest burned. The nurse, a young brunette of 20 something years old, left the stall Shinji had been using to support himself and exercise in order to help him breath more easily.

The white halls surrounding them bore witness of the former Third Child's effort. Thin windows allowed a clear view of the half-made environment of the Geo-Front as ashen, sterile walls ran down the exercise room. The boy had been turning on his damaged left side to allow lung expansion and a good blood oxygenation, that alone had almost drained all the energy out of him from the intense pain.

He had been sitting with some sort of machine called a spirometer that was supposed to measure and strengthen the use of his lungs, but it hurt a bit too much to blow on the damn thing for too long. He still had trouble breathing for heaven's sake.

"Ok, Shinji, you did well. Now, as we talked, inhale slowly, try to make it long, then slowly exhale. Take it easy, honey, you're doing great." The nurse encouraged with a happy voice, loosening Shinji's bandages a bit so he was able to breath without so much pain.

After a long pause and a quick change of bandages Shinji was back in his bed, sulking about his precarious situation, his intense pain and the absolute lack of anything decent to watch. So, there he lay, thinking about his latest nightmare and the horrors he had suffered in it. He couldn't help getting depressed, there was nothing to do, nothing to clean or cook, nothing to occupy his mind with so he wouldn't have to think about the fact that he fucking killed everyone and was the one person responsible for the whole fucking Armageddon and-

The door opened, allowing the boy´s roommates to enter his small room. The first thing both young women noticed was the absence of some of the advanced machines once stationed next to the boy´s bed.

Shinji raised his gaze hopefully, an honest smile forming on his face as he saw both Misato and Asuka. The smell of something delicious assaulted his nostrils almost immediately, making his stomach remember it was hungry and displeased with its owner. For once in eight months, Shinji didn't flinch under Asuka´s gaze.

"Hi." Said the redhead, smiling almost shyly at him, gripping the trey with the stew closer to her. Misato wore a somewhat satisfied smile of her own.

"Hi." Shinji answered, and offered a tentative grin of his own.

The liquid around him exploded from his mouth as numb arms and legs carried a tired, worn body to shore. As his body contacted the soft, welcoming sand of the beach, the exhausted limbs gave out and he collapsed to the ground.

There he lay for a long time, waiting for energy and reason to return, waiting for his senses to individualize and for his notion of self to solidify. He felt again, and tried opening the appendages on his face, which reacted by fluttering open, allowing him to see, actually see for the first time in ages, or days, or months. The brightness of the morning sun burned into his eyes, yet he did not move.

Memories slowly dissolved and took shape in his mind, as the hastiness and emptiness of Instrumentality disappeared. His body was still not strong enough to function, he knew, yet he forced it to move. He had things to do, promises to keep. As was to be expected, he could not feel his right hand at all, it was the only part of his body that wasn´t numbs and in pain.

Ignoring the agony, he pushed himself to his stomach and attempted to slowly lift himself up. Groaning, he managed to finally stand, as his legs wobbled and threatened to give under the weight. It felt as if it was his first time walking, and in a way, it was. Finally managing to steady the shaking in his legs, he moved his head.

Clenching his left hand and frowning deeply, Ikari Gendou glared at the world for what it felt like the first time.

The world, unfazed, glared right back.

TBC...

AN:So, yeah. You're probably wondering what the hell happened to me to bring that guy back. Well, you'll have to wait and see haha. I really hope you liked this chapter and again I apologize for letting so much time pass between updates, but I needed a vacation you see haha, anyway, Still revising! Still writing Epilogue! Send help plz.

PEACE.

D.B

Inspirational Music: Lost for Words, Any Color You like-Pink Floyd; Song of the Dispossesed-Dead Can Dance; No Remorse, The Four Horsemen-Metallica; Reverie/Harlequim Forest-Opeth.