AN:Umm...so... four months huh? I'm really, really sorry people, but you know, class and college and stuff, it just consumes all your time. Luckily, I had a couple of weeks off and finally managed to write this baby! I hope you all enjoy it so please, Read and Review!
Note: A new cover, crafted by the incredible ZackRay_Lin has been added to the story, and wonderful art has been created for many a different chapters! Please feel free to check this story's version in the website Archive of Our Own! And please show your love and support to the artists!
Scar Tissue
Chapter Nine. Eighth Act: Take Away My Pain
Shadows
The very horrors that forever man has attempted to hide from. Darkness, shadow, shade, all of them words to represent the immense fear which has haunted mankind ever since the development of reason and understanding, the everlasting terror of the unknown. Why is it that humans fear darkness? Can it be because it is in the shadows than Man is able to see exactly how rotten his soul is? Can it be because they fear to look upon the shades and recognize themselves? Can it be that men fear darkness because it is a mirror? A mirror of their own hearts? You know of what I speak of, yes you do, Yessss, you do… Each person in this rotten world has felt it, the cold, delicious sensation of hatred running through their veins, the intoxicating feeling of anger clouding one's judgment and releasing the inner beast which lies dormant within their decaying souls.
So why hide it?
Because of fear, yes, we fear the unknown, we fear ourselves. Ever since the dawn of this bloodied race, we have always faced darkness, we have attempted to hide from it, to tame it, yes, but deep down, we have always acknowledged our inability to truly contain it. Can you not see it? Can you not feel the beast feast on your hatred, on your loneliness, your fears and doubts?
I was born from this darkness, from the darkness of your hearts, from the darkness in His heart. I am the living, breathing representation of your hate, your fear, your anger, your wish for poetic justice. I am the blade forged to punish, I am the axe wielded by the executioner, I am the dark, dirty prison in which you rot and crumble, the rusted, aged weapon that fires against those you hate. I was born for a single purpose, to never allow your executioner the much deserved rest he so desperately seeks. I am the beast born in the End, the monster inside your closet. I am the Boogie Man, the Crow, I am your your anxiety, your devastated self-esteem. I am your broken dreams, your most horrific nightmares, I am those memories that you so vividly relieve and wish to forget, yet I do not allow you to disregard, ever.
I am You.
I live to perpetrate the worst tortures in the minds of those who are deserving of punishment, of those who cannot be punished but by their own minds. I relish in their pain, for His pain. I live for their fear.
And now, I invite you all to join me…
Come , my children, all of you, let me share my world with you. Let me show the outcome of your hatred, allow me to introduce you to yourselves. Come with me, come to my kingdom. Now, before we embark on this journey into my domain, before you are witness to the most fragile, haunted and distorted mind among this race, before you are witness to images and memories that would most definitely break a lesser man... take a breath.
I really hope the dark doesn't scare you as much as it does him.
Images. Screams. Smiles. Pain. Lust. Happiness. Red. Blue. Smiles. Purple hair. Betrayal. Red. Pain. Blue. Cofusion. Pain. Pain. You left me. Pain. Smiles. Laughter. You left me. You killed me. Pain. Pain. All of you… die. Die. Screams. Flesh. Pain.
It laughs, as memories assault him at incredible speed and make him dizzy with pain, it laughs. It taunts him, bringing his happiest memories to focus and crushing them with the truth. It uses his mother to break every last ounce of hope left in his body, it laughs as he is tortured by his own memories.
"Go on, Shnji. Open your eyes…"
Mother. He sees her, clear as day. A soft, soothing smile on her angelic features, the gentle wind of October caressing her auburn hair as a breath on silk. He can see her, happy and unafraid with the child that will become him in her arms. He can see the city behind her, glorious, magnificent and populated, unaware of their future. Then, he sees the silhouette of the monstrous machine made to torture him, its mouth open and drooling in a mute invitation into the Hell that awaits him. Without warning, it swallows him whole.
Inside the Void, the creature coils around him, grabbing his face with putrid, ice-cold hands and chuckling in anticipation. For two hours now, the torture has been non-stop. Not that he can tell how much time has transpired outside. "Let the show begin… let's go back… to where it starts… where I was born..." A whisper, disgustingly seductive and revolting in every way or form. He feels its rotten lips come in contact with his forehead, and for a moment the figure turns into the half-eaten carcass of his smiling mother, her ocean-blue eyes scrutinizing him as if he were and insect.
"Suffer now… my dear Shinji-kun…"
Inside the Void, a boy screams. It is a horrendous noise filled with grief and despair, the sound of one's humanity dying. Then it begins, for the umpteenth time.
Shinji had not returned whole from the Red Ocean, his mind had been fractioned into pieces and fractals of personality so volatile and unstable that they shifted with the mere sound of the waves as they caressed the unnaturally white shores surrounding the Ocean of Blood. His mind is amiss of everything, contracted onto itself as if attempting to shield the most vital parts that make him whole. He thinks all the time, all the fucking time.
Dead. Everything. Everything was dead. Except for him. How long had he delved alone in the world? Back when the days were inked with red and red and more red and death and blood and the smell of blood and the fact that… oh my God I fucking killed everyone and I failed everything and there's a huge head in the Ocean and piss and crap and eat and survive and repeat under the sky that looks like the sea that smells like blood. Crimson, like Asuka's hair, like her hair-clips and neural connectors, red like her blood all over the Geo-Front when the fuckers lift her up and oh my God they're eating her and the feeling of her neck around his hand. The sound of her neck snapping and the smell of blood, the smell of Asuka's blood and the feeling of it in his hands and the red on Rei's eye that fucking keeps reminding him of the girl he loves and hates with everything he is and the smell that reminds him of death and the fact that it's all his fault.
There were such foggy recollections of that time, few and far between, but he remembers one thing... feeling alone and abandoned the entire time. Mother ha said everyone could come back, but nobody came back. No one. Nothing. Not even a sound, a bird. Just Red. And him. And Guilt. And Hate. Hate towards them all. He places big logs where there should be graves, graves that remind him of his failure, forever, graves that remind him that he has been abandoned in a hell made especially for him. He hates them all, hates the red, hates the food, hates the smell of blood all over, hates her, hates his father, his mother, his sister. Damn them all. Serves them right, the bastards. He hates, above all though, himself.
One day he sits at shore, not doing anything at all, just watching the stains on the moon, when suddenly he notices a change in the sound pattern of the waves, and he sees her. How, in a Sea of Red, can he see her? Why was there a point on the Ocean glowing, and how had he come to sit on that beach? He goes in and brings her to shore, and then he lies again on the white sand, exhausted. Who is this person? Asuka. Who is Asuka? Pain, love, arousal, loyalty, friendship, betrayal, lust, pain, pain and hurt, warmth, the same. Why the same? Why? He cannot think, but it slowly bleeds into his brain again. He remembers it all, and wants to kill her again. Why should she be here? She let him rot, the miserable bitch, so let him kill her once and for all. It's for the best. His head turns, and Ayanami is there for a single second, she looks neutral, devoid of any feeling. Why is she just floating there? She told him to choose, and he chose to kill everyone, so why is she not with him? Why Asuka? Why? He'll kill her.
Suddenly he's choking the Second Child with every fiber of his being, because there´s no other way, because she´ll betray him again and leave. She already hates his guts, so what the hell. She left him, the miserable bitch, she let him to suffer and bear it alone, and she doesn't even have the courtesy to give him a heated glare. Nothing, her face is devoid of anything. Dont ignore me. His thumbs bite at her windpipe, attempting to draw anything from her, but receiving nothing, nothing at all. Don't, please, not you. Not you. Not Asuka. Help me. Love me. Hate me. Anything, as long as it comes from you. But she doesn't move, which strengthens his resolve. Please, anything. Hate me, please, please. Hate me, kill me. Anything. But nothing happens.
A touch, a caress. He feels it, and it breaks through the foggy haze that is his mind. The fractals disappear, and he is faced with the blunt fact that he has just tried to kill Her. He breaks down not a second afterwards, too exhausted to even understand what is going on and too filled with grief and regret to even move, yet in between it all, he feels happy, happy because she is there. It lasts less than seconds, as the small spark of hope is extinguished by her words.
"I feel sick."
She knows, oh God… she knows.
The world disappears, and he is in his bedroom, unable to sleep yet again but pretending to anyway. He feels the presence of that thing somewhere, he smells its stench. Another memory, another nightmare that haunts him. Today is the sight of Unit 02 ripped to shreds in front of him, accompanied by a generous offering of torture. He had to get up and vomit in the bathroom, luckily he maid it. He feels uneasy, as if he knows something bad and wrong is going to happen. It makes sense when the door opens. She's in her night ware, a long, pink T-shirt with her panties on. He swears he can smell the tears from his bed.
"Thinking of me again, Shinji?", she asks cruelly, yet with a shaky tone. Her voice is poison and anguish to his heart, because he knows that the way she is now, her fits of rage, her screaming in the bathroom at all hours of the night, her hate, her sorrow, all of it is his fault.
"You know, you're a really... sick individual." She says brokenly, forcing her voice to turn into a growl. "Aren't you ashamed that you can't control your perverted, disgusting personality? Hmm, kinda makes me wonder what would have turned out of you if you´d had a normal life. You know, you'd probably be a rapist." She advances toward his bed, enjoying the sight of him attempting to curl around himself. "Or probably a murderer, you know, those really sick bastards who rape and then choke women to death." It feels strange, at times like these, when she caresses his face despite her ugly words and tries to glare through her tears. Why does it feel like she is talking to herself as much as she is speaking to him?
Asuka is standing over him now, a hungry look slowly taking over her features. Eyes that hold little goodwill, no mercy, only hate for him and for his sins, or so he perceives. So be it, he can bear it, as long as he gives her some semblance of peace. He can take it. He can take it. Being used again, being a toy, choking on his own anger, on his own hatred, holding it in and letting her do whatever she wants. He can take it.
"Pants off."
He can't take it.
Fractals, images, flashes of that night. Pain in his jaw. Pain on his ribs. It hurts, but it feels good too, and he is sick with himself for enjoying it, for taking advantage of her needs and satisfying his own insignificant demands for another's touch and caress. Beyond that first time, she now kisses him, touches him, nips at him, has her fill on his body. As time passes her aggression turns into what he assumes tenderness might have been, and so he melts into it. He is sick.
"Yes… yes you are… Just like your father, can´t you see?"
Yes. He can see it. Just like Father, using everyone around him to accomplish his plans, his sickening ambition. Using, then throwing away. He rots everything he touches, just like Father, and he is burdened with horrible crimes committed by none other that him, too, like Father. In the end, the bastard has made sure his legacy survives in the form of a broken, putrid little monster.
He feels as she takes him, feels her teeth as they bite into his neck, with every intention to leave a mark the next day. He feels as she runs her nails through his skin, and almost vomits when he hears her grunt in approval at his arousal. It´s always like this. He feels her eyes as she glares into his face, but most of all, he feels her tears, her pain and anguish as she takes him. So he bears it, even when she hurts him so, even when they are both only hurting and using one another. For a while, the agony dispersal.
On some nights he stands outside her bedroom, doing nothing but watching her as she sleeps. Most times, he has the irresistible urge to launch himself at her, to fuck her senseless, to slap and hit and slash at her until she cries blood, just like she did to him before. He wants to feel her trying to escape, just like he has, only to grab her by the throat and threaten to kill himself if she does not stop struggling, just like she always does. Sometimes, he just wants to choke her to death. Then the disgust comes, stifling, absolute, and he walks away, hating himself just a bit more.
Sometimes, he sits in a park, doing nothing but watch the trees and the sea, a sea that used to be red, a sea which is now full of life. He sits on a bench, trying not to explode, trying not to break down completely, barely breathing, barely even moving until his cell phone rings for the hundredth time or until some nice security guard shakes him and tells him it's two in the morning. He remembers everything with detail at times, and it tortures him for hours on end, so he just sits there like a stone, waiting for the memories to fade away. One time, the guard told him his eyes looked… haunted.
Thoughts, recollections. Images. It all flashes around him, it all spins around him, but he can see each image, can remember each moment and feel every jab to his soul. Shinji Ikari stands alone in the darkness, tortured by memories.
"How can you even stand yourself? You dream of killing her, of killing all of them. You liked it, didn't you? All that power, the chance of having everyone acknowledge you, love you. The change to get back at them. Pathetic, to think you had to become God to try and force everyone to love you, and yet here you are, alone."
It moves in circles around him, as a predator who plays with its meal, rejoicing in watching it bleed to death from the mortal wound inflicted before.
"So, so very pathetic. You´re just like your old man, aren't you?"
The beast awaits, hungry for more, hungry for blood and suffering, but it receives silence. Baffled, it turns to its victim and grabs him by the throat, glaring blood into his ocean-blue eyes. His eyes are dead, haunted, but there is a small flicker, a small flare.
"I asked you a question, boy." The beast gripped harder at his neck, but Shniji felt nothing, he did not feel his throat constricted. He felt something in his chest, he felt fire inside his soul.
"I am not… my father…" Quiet, yet the defense was strong enough to surprise the monster, making it blink And lift an eyebrow.
"You have a lot of nerve, brat. Your dearest father treated everyone like tools, just like you. He used women's bodies but destroyed their minds, only for his own twisted amusement! You are no different from him, from the man ready to KILL every last human being on this earth! Bah, you're even lower scum that he is! At least he did his deeds to be reunited with your mother, the dirty little bitch she was… Stop deluding yourself."
Neither moved, neither breathed for a moment. Caught inside his mind, Shinji allowed all of his anger, all of his fear and hate to wash all over him, to posses him completely.
"I´M NOT MY FATHER!" He screams at the beast in front of him, grabbing it by the throat instead.
"I hate you! All you do is make me feel like scum! As if I don't know what kind of crap I am! Don't you think I feel bad enough having to wake up every morning and look at myself in the mirror!? Just… just shut up!"
The beast allowed itself to be choked and watched, slightly amused. The poor boy, he thought he could still have peace, it was so disgustingly poetic. Shinji's eyes were wide, hateful and alive for the first time in months, but his efforts were futile.
"Are you done?"
Shinji got to his feet in an instant, a terrified expression melting over his features. The beast advanced towards him, massaging its neck. Then, glaring daggers at him, the figure mutated turned into what he had dreaded the most. It slowly turned into Asuka.
There were holes all over her body, there was a fucking hole where her left eye should have been, her right arm was cut right in half. God, he could see the bone clinging off the flesh, smell the blood as it dripped from all over her body, he could feel as she got closer, a crudely disapproving frown on her mangled face. At once, his endless rage receded as reflex took over, making him meek and frightened, no more than a submissive dog at her feet.
"Tsk, Tsk, Tsk. Bad Shinji. Have I not taught you your place already?" It came closer, wearing Asuka's confident smirk. Raw, unbidden fear crept up his spine as she advanced and he sat there, paralyzed and watching with morbid fascination and mind-numbing terror as the blood dripped from her wounds.
"Bad dog!"
He lowered his head, ashamed.
"S-Sorry…."
What is it? Why aren't you looking at me? Running away again, are we? Running away from your actions, well, not tonight... you bastard."
He saw her feet stand in front of him, saw how a small pool of blood formed beneath her. Suddenly, she kicked him on the side, making him flinch and fall. She set her foot above his windpipe, and he could feel himself run out of air.
"There's no running away from me, Shinji…" She lowered herself to him, strapping her thighs against his legs and forcing his face upwards, so he could look at her and gaze in horror at he hole that bled on his shirt.
"You really think I could feel anything for you besides hate? You poor, poor little Baka-Shinji. Maybe I just need to remind you how much I actually hate you…"
With that last comment, she smashes cold, rotting lips against his own, making him want to vomit from the stench alone. In an instant everything tirned into pain and the nightmare worsened. Every slap, every insult, every hit, each and every ill deed Asuka has perpetrated against him ran through him, poisoning the image he held so dear to his heart, the image of her softly smiling as she delivers a meal made by her own, two perfect hands. The memories spin one after the other, threatening to drive him completely insane. Screams blossomed as he watched and listened to some of the traumas that haunted him the most.
"I no longer have a use for you."
"What are you, stupid?"
"Pants down, Shinji."
"How can you even think you can make it up to me! Get away from me!"
"Don't touch me."
"Stay away… STAY AWAY, PLEASE!"
"You bastard! How dare you! How dare you put your dirty hands on me!"
"Why won't you look at me? Hey, I said look at me!"
"How can you stand there and smile knowing everything you've done? You little shit!"
"I hate you, Shinji! I Hate everyone!"
"I feel sick."
"Monster."
"Monster!"
"BAKA!"
"Why are you in there! You won't do anything!"
"You won't help me!"
"You wont even hold me!"
He felt them, felt each blow as she delivered it, felt every kick, every scream, and every insult, everything at once. Memories swirled around him, his failures thrown at his face too quickly for him to even understand them all. Touji, his arm and leg cut off because he refused to do anything, Sakura, Touji´s sister, crippled because of his uselessness. Hundreds of innocents he failed to protect, dying and burning with every Angel that attacked. His father, not once lifting an eyebrow at his accomplishments. Asuka, mind-raped, screaming her heart out as he cowered in his Entry Plug like a pathetic first-born. Kaji, dying and leaving Misato as a broken shell of her former self, he stood there and watched her break without even lifting a finger. Rei, blowing herself up because he was too useless to do anything. Everyone, leaving, hurting, dying because of him, because of him…
Unbeknownst to the victim, his torture was reaching it's highest point as it destroyed whatever sanity and hope he still had for himself. For hours, he was forced to relieve his failures again and again.
The last clear image he dreamed before giving in to the darkness completely was that of Unit Two, mangled and eaten, being brought to him as an offering. He could see her, see the wounds all over her body, the wound on her eye, her arm split in half. She was still breathing.
It took another second for it to sink in, and in that second the figure appeared in front of him. The hole in her head stood out in gruesome detail, offering him a clear view of the mortal wounds all over her, but most of all, he can see her still breathing in her Entry Plug, suffering, still fighting, whimpering and spitting blood. The Entry Plug is stained red as more continues to drizzle out of her. He could see the light fade away from her eyes in the last moment, he could hear her last whisper as life abandoned her.
"S…Shinji…"
She was depending on him, believing in him to the last moment, and he had failed her, he had allowed her to be maimed and killed.
At five thirty eight in the morningof October the third, 2016, a scream unlike any other shook the very foundations of NERV's Medical Ward.
At five forty one in the morning, Misato was woken by the terrible shaking of a young redhead, still clad in her night T-shirt and panties, who was crying her blue eyes out. She seemed ready to fall apart. Later on, Misato would remember that moment as the moment when things had forever changed for the better for both her children, but at the time, she felt ready to her, had it not been for her own horrible nightmare and feeling of utter fear making her chest feel hollow. Asuka had looked so frightened, so concerned, that Misato had immediately risen from her bed and in minutes, they had been on their way to NERV's medical ward. Asuka didn't let go of her hand the entire way and didn't complain on her lack of respect for transit laws or her lack of concern for the debris all around. The girl kept repeating that Shinji was in danger and they had to go see him, otherwise they would lose him. She believed the redhead, since she had the same feeling in her chest.
Once they arrived to his room, rushing through doctors and nurses, rushing through insane screams and kicks, they were faced with an image that would ceaselessly haunt their memories. Shinji was screaming like a madman, terrified of everything around him, caught in some sort of horrific trance. Even as Misato tried to hold him, even when Asuka took his healthy hand and held it in her own, even then he continued crying like there was nothing left. Shinji was caught in a nightmare much more vivid and terrifying than ever before. The monster was using everything, every last horrid memory he had to torment him, and he could not possibly take it anymore.
He was finally snapping, losing his sanity to the eternal torment of horrendous memories and hateful words, of blood, torture and pain beyond any human understanding. The effects of the pent up trauma He was fighting, but it was too much, too much for him to bear alone, so the battered remains of his mind were shutting off on him, as his chest threatened to give in under the pressure of his screams. Not even the drugs were able to soothe him, besides, in the midst of his violent stupor, he had ripped the IV from his left arm. Even as the nurses held him down and administered a heavy dose of morphine into him, he continued fidgeting around, tears spilling from his eyes and soft, painful moans escaped his lips. Misato never felt so helpless, she could do nothing but hold him as the nurses made sure he hadn't reopened his wounds, she could do nothing but kiss his hair and try to soothe him as the poor, miserable whimpers kept escaping his parted mouth.
It went on for four agonizing hours. Trapped in a dreamless sleep, unable to awaken due to the drugs administered to soothe his body and restrain him, he suffered from memories no child should bare.
Not even Asuka's touch seemed to relax him; he kept suffering in his sleep without reprieve. There was nothing Ritsuko could do either; if she pushed any more drugs into his system she ran the risk of bringing him close to a stroke. When all seemed to be lost, when his mind was recoiling back into itself and locking itself forever, when; having watched his most horrendous memories time and time again for about five hours straight, something happened that was only for Shinji and Asuka to know and understand. Ever so gently, she let go of his hand. Calmly, she disentangled her guardian from her hold on her surrogate child. She understood that such was the time to fulfill her promise to him and change, it was time to hope. Misato was reluctant to leave his side, but Asuka's eyes convinced her that it was what had to be done. After four hours of holding on to him, of listening to him run out of tears and whimper like a wounded animal, she released him, if only for a moment.
Then, then something happened. Something that, considering everything that had transpired, should not have been allowed or possible. Asuka had raped Shinji, used him sexually on multiple occasions, yet she had never trully allowed him to touch her, to share her body warmth and she had never allowed him to cover her in his. She had never allowed him to feel her warmth, to share their deep, mutual caring for one another. No, she had always allowed her hate and anger to dominate her senses, she had only allowed her lust and need for comfort to make itself known, but no more. Whatever attentiveness, caring or caress that manifested was unconscious. So she made a choice for once, she chose to move Misato away from him, she chose to breath in his scent, to soothe his wounded heart, but most of all, she chose to allow herself to be led by her heart, and not her twisted mind or her rotten, broken pride.
Ever so slowly, while Shinji squirmed and mumbled in his sleep, she climbed into his hospital bed, careful not to damage the many tubes and cables all around him, and lay down next to him. She knew she didn't deserve to help, that she had no right whatsoever to touch him, but he was suffering so much. He wasn't even awake, not even conscious and he was in so much pain. What, she wondered, was he seeing in his poor mind? God, he was probably relieving some of the horrible things she had done to him. She prayed it wasn't those memories, she prayed to any God still out there to please allow him to find some solace, to pass that pain to her and let him be. Please, she begged, just let him rest… Let me try, Shinji... just this once... let me try...
Placing her head in the crook of his neck, she breathes in his scent, rejoicing in his warmth. Taking his left arm in her hands, she places it around her waist, feeling him clutch her shirt with all his might, as she carefully lays her arm around his stomach, careful to place it somewhere it does not upset his injuries. Slowly but surely, the boy's breathing soothes, his heartbeat lessens, going back to normal and his troubled breathing is reduced to a light snore. In the midst of it all, Asuka whispers things she would still not dare say to his face while awake, simply because she felt she didn't deserve to, things that were for his ears and his ears alone.
"Shh… It's okay, Shinji… I know, I know what you're seeing right now, it's okay… I'm here now … I'm here…it's okay, listen to my voice... Baka... I'm right here… I'll take care of you now, I'll take care of you now…."
She caresses his hair, soothes and kisses his eyelids ever so softly, in a show of caring and concern that leave Misato, Ritsuko and the entire medical staff speechless and frozen in place. What the hell? Had that girl not been the one to place the boy in that bed in the first place, and how, oh how, could it be that he is actually responding to her touch? Misato knows the guilt the girl carries, she herself has a burdened heart, yet she is powerless to help her children. Understanding that she can do nothing at that point, that at that point, and since they have met, all they needed was each other, Misato leads everyone away, assuring them that Shinji will be okay, and leaves them in their small, sterile hospital room. She trusts her little girl, if only a little, and above all, she knows just how much guilt she carries in her heart and how much she wishes to undo what she has done. So she leaves them be.
It is still so hard to be nice, to be gentle and caring. It's simply not in her nature. She can´t say what she feels, but she can hope he can understand her feelings anyway. All that has ever come out of her foul mouth has hurt him in the past, so perhaps it is better to simply hold him and soothe whatever pain she can at that point.
Slowly, Asuka feels as he relaxes completely, as the nightmares that have haunted both of them for more than eight months evaporate in a cocoon of warmth and caring. There is something so very rewarding about being true to one's heart, and she is being truthful to her own for once in years. That is what Mama would have wanted, and that is what she wants, more than anything. The nightmare that plagues Shinji slowly dissipates, the putrid smell of rotting corpses is replaced by the sweet scent of her hair, by the softness of her skin.
The sight of the deformed manifestation of his soul and permanent torment is replaced by the image of her smiling so sweetly, so purely at him the day before, by the soft touch of her silky hand on his own. The images of her sadistic sneer and painfully hateful words are replaced by a promise of a better and warmer tomorrow. The fear, the mind-numbing, heart-clenching fear her mere presence seems to produce in him lessens. He is still afraid, but not terrified, never again. Unconsciously, he holds her tighter, bringing the warmth she represents closer to his battered heart. The wounds start healing ever so slowly, the cuts that run so deep and sting so much are replaced by her, her and her own battered heart, as they both slowly mend and complete each other, if just a little bit. In his mind, the beast's laughter can still be heard, yet he chooses to ignore it for once, and instead concentrates on the smell of her hair and feel of her skin.
She breathes slowly, trying to find a synch with his healing chest, and listens to his strong, soothing heartbeat. She can feel both of their hearts healing ever so slowly, she feels the guilt and shame still there, but now she can fight them by actually doing something to make him feel better. She is not, under any circumstance, using her body to soothe him, or looking for a way to selfishly make herself feel better, no, it is so far deeper than a physical contact, so far deeper than seeking empty, meaningless comfort. It is a connection that none but the two of them can ever hope to understand. Their hearts, broken and bleeding; complete each other and help each other heal. No more revenge, no more hatred, no more ill desire, only warmth, only care as the morning arrives. It is a time for both of them, a time for bit of forgiveness, for understanding, perhaps even for something more.
The hatred begins to fade away; at last the nine white beasts pose no threat to her dreams, because, finally, he is there. And when he is there, holding her as tightly as he is now, no monster can hurt her, and the monster in her could, and would not hurt him as long as she tried her hardest to make it disappear. No monsters that night. They were broken, they had hated each other, they had relied on each other, they had betrayed each other, but they had remained side by side. In two years, they had created a bond so powerful, so unique that it could withstand thousands of different realities, where their personal traumas and fears had also not allowed them to be together. In Instrumentality, no matter the Universe, they had had met or interacted, even when in most cases they had been unable to be with one another.
She has been running away all this time, running from this. For how long did she delude herself into thinking she needed no one? So afraid was she of human contact that she had decided to burn every last bridge she came across, yet no amount of fire and hate had managed to burn this one. It is still so difficult, so out of her nature to be kind to him or to anyone, but she will try.
A memory comes to the mind of the redhead, a world so very far away, a world where she had not known him, a world where she had been unhappy until her death, accompanied by meaningless relationships, empty, shallow kisses and disgusting mornings. True, she had never gone through so much pain in that universe, but she had never felt so strongly about anyone either. Could it be possible, to be forgiven for all she had done? Perhaps not, but, perhaps, one day, if she was able to be happy, if only for a moment, happy with him, then it would be enough, it would be more than worth it.
It is said that two broken people make one whole; perhaps, such was the case with Sohryu Asuka Langley and Ikari Shinji.
Together, holding onto each other, they rest. Her head lies on his chest, minding so very carefully his wounds, her fingertip traces just above his soon to be scars very gently, knowing they will always be a reminder of her hatred, of her stupidity and violence, of her lack of understanding, and her lack of control. She looks at him and knows that whenever he sees the fine line around her arm, the circular shades around her body and the all but invisible scar on her eye he will feel weak, useless, pathetic and ashamed.
She knows that there will have to be many a serious conversation in hope of understanding the reasons of their actions and behavoir, but for now... she can leave it all behind, not in escape, but in comfort and care and rejoice in being true to herself. Very calmly, she drifts off, feeling as his arm encircles her in the most gentle yet firm way imaginable, feeling as his hand warms her entire body, feeling him cuddle her closer to himself without a care for his injuries, which she herself is guilty of, yet he cares not, simply because her company is worth any kind of pain to him now. She is lulled to sleep so very smoothly as his heart beats in unison with her own. She realizes then, just how much she cares for him. Another saying comes to her mind.
'You never know what you have until you lose it.'
It is so very true, she remembers when he was taken by Eva, probably never to return, she remembers her furious, hidden tears every night, her anger every day at seeing his room empty, the despair hidden between biting comments and empty insults, she remembers that secret day, that secret day before he came back when she faced the monster and she demanded him be returned. "Give him back!" she had screamed, and could swear she'd heard the beast growl in response. She remembers the 12th, her anger being used to disguise her deepest fear and hysteria, the thought of never, ever seeing him again. She remembers when he left the Red Sea, the intense and total loneliness of her heart when missing his, even when she was united with the rest of humanity.
She remembers seeking him with such desperation and finally finding him, even when it was in the worst circumstances possible. But all of that matters not anymore, now she understands, finally understands, and wishes to remain in this perfect moment forever. Deep down in his dreams, he wishes that too. Not because she is a shield from his nightmares, but because she is the missing part of his decayed heart, the healthy part, the fire that will reestablish his will to live, to enjoy, to be happy. She heals the monster inside of him, who doesn't seem so decayed now, nor does he inspire so much fear in him. It recoils in her presence, as if struck by a force not even it can fight.
They drift off to sleep ever so slowly, together, in a cocoon of warmth, where no nightmares or horrid flashbacks can touch them. Little by little, some of the many wounds inflicted by each other and themselves are mended, and even though many more still bleed and sting, there is hope that those too, will heal in time. No monsters to haunt them, no memories to chase them to insanity, nothing but the image of the other smiling, caring and holding them. With small smiles on their faces, they begin to faill into sleep, free at last from some of the pain.
And so, the wounds don't sting so much, the pain dulls, and hope grows within their mended hearts.
"You know, I… wanted you to like me. I thought… I thought you had to, you had to like me, you were mine. There was never another way. I could never stand seeing you talking to other girls, or looking at them, not even Misato…"
She breathes in, closing her eyes. "Maybe… maybe I did what I did because I needed to know, I needed you to want me, even with all these scars, even when I was a monster, even if I had to force you… I needed you… I still do…"
With those calm, truthful words, she allows herself to be lulled to sleep by his heartbeat. She knows very well she has no right to be there with him, no right to touch him, or even apologize, but for that moment, she rests in his warmth, for one day she fails to listen to her pride and hate, and simply does what feels right. It´s still so hard to be good to him, but she will try, for both their sakes.
There are, on some rear cases, two souls so connected, so destined to complete each other, that no matter how much pain they cause one another, they will always remain true. There are, on some rear cases, connections so powerful, that they transcend time, space and universe, connections that exist in all varieties of different worlds and realities. In those cases, not even the greatest powers that be can separate them. Nothing can stand between them.
Time, as they say, heals all wounds.
Inhaling the sweet strawberry scent of Asuka's shampoo, the world came back to focus to Shinji's eyes. For the first time in more than a year he felt well rested, with some energy running through his body, and surprisingly calm. That was, at least, until he saw the mane of red locks beside him. The fear came back full force, yet it did not last, nor did it consume his senses like it had days before. He could see the white all over his sterilized room, could feel her breath tickle on his throat and for a moment, he wondered if he had finally snapped and was lost in a dream world.
The smell of rotten flesh still faintly infected his nostrils; the presence of the thing inside his mind had still not vanished. He felt hollow, empty, not even able to muster up enough strength to be afraid of his torturer. Dull eyes moved all around the room, trying to grasp the reality before them. He felt spread, stretched, like butter melting over too much bread. Was he still sane? No, it was impossible, in no sane world would Asuka be laying next to him and looking as peaceful as she looked then, no, she always frowned, even in her sleep.
Was all of it a dream, a distant nightmare? Was he still in the ocean of LCL? Had he been there all along? If so, when would Asuka start using him again? He was a toy, a punching bag, not even worthy to be called a doormat. Just an old, ragged and dried out doll. A doll, a plaything, something to be discarded. God, how many more times would he repeat the same boring speech inside his tired brain?
Why the hell could he not just crawl up and die? Which was the impossible task he had to finalize aside from being Asuka's toy, until some semblance of peace was granted? Why did he even give a crap? No one else did. Nobody had lifted a finger for him during Instrumentality; not Misato, not Rei, and especially not Asuka. They had all abandoned him and left him to die once already, so why could they simply not do it again?
Maybe he was right for once, and soon everyone would leave and let him rot in peace, but for a moment, if only for a single day, he would enjoy the warmth and comfort he felt. The thing inside him could, with all due respect to the rotting corpse, go fuck itself for the time being. It was weird, in a way. He felt somehow... at peace. There was still some much pain, fear and dread and anger inside, but for that day, he would ignore all of it. Hazel eyes slid close as he sighed contently, holding the young woman he thought he loved and hated with such passion closer to himself, and rejoiced in the feeling of her arm holding him tighter as well. He could work on his anger, he could find a way and he would. Shinji Ikari might have been a monster, a pathetic human being, but he was not his father. He would not run away.
The chamber once used to decide the fate of mankind had once again been filled by the surviving leaders of the organization. Silence reigned on the circular assembly, the monoliths lay quiet, unused. Cracked and broken lay the Tablet, proportioning a visage of failure and despair into the minds of those who had survived but refused to relinquish their power. Even after Third Impact, not much had changed in politics and business, money was still the currency of the realm, immaterial nonsense such as friendship or loyalty had never occupied a high place in politics, after all.
A disgruntled growl broke the silence of the Room of Conferences, bringing those attending out of their personal reveries and focusing their attention on the matters of substance to be discussed. Six of the former twelve monoliths came to life, illuminating the room with reddish lights and giving an ample visage of the destruction the Room had suffered.
"This… is an outrage!" Screamed 06, poison leaking from his voice.
"That insufferable brat dared to question Perfection, Complementation!" Added 02 in rage.
"Instrumentality has failed! Now our primary tool is orbiting Mars' moon, with the Lance fused with it! Ikari's boy failed even in the simplest of tasks! He had only to accept the beauty and absolute bliss of Complementation, yet he proved to be useless in that as well!"
Soon enough, chaos erupted from the Council chamber, every member attempted to show their own disdain for the Ikari child and their failure, each glaring at the broken Tablet facing them all, as a permanent reminder of a plan which had cost trillions of dollars and billions of lives. Bastard. Immature and petulant little brat. He would die, yes, he would die a slow and painful death after watching every ones of his loved ones suffer before him. The boy would be tortured to its furthest extent, until there was no more anguish to extract from him. Then, and only then, would the miserable brat be allowed to pass on.
"I call order." Growled 07 in irritation, and not a second after a pin could have been dropped on the floor and the sound would have reverberated throughout the entire hall. He had held his tongue the entire meeting, allowing the other… less refined but otherwise important gentlemen to express their colorful sentiments towards the boy who had doomed their ambitions. No matter, if Complementation was impossible, if they had to live in a world of imperfection and stupidity, then would rule it with an iron fist, they would shape the fate of the generations to come, and they would posses the power of gods. Soon enough, a new way to reach Instrumentality would be presented.
"Reports indicate that the Second has regained activity, a Core beats within its innards, gentlemen. True, Complementation is impossible, but that was Keel's main objective, not necessarily ours." Narrowing cold cobalt eyes, 07 allowed himself to smile.
"You forget, gentlemen, that there is still power in this world unable to be stopped, a force so rotten and corrupted, so utterly horrifying, that it still strikes fear on the hearts of those who created it."
"Your point, 07?" Asked 02 in anger.
"My point, gentlemen, is the following. If we are able to recover the Second, we will have the power of gods within our reach. Yes, the EVA Series is no more, but it´s sacrifice has provided us with power comparable with Unit 01. Do you not see? This is a new world, gentlemen… Our vision, and we will decide how it is rebuilt. Within human nature is the need of a shepherd, a master, justice and laws, which we represent. We shall be the ones to rule this ruined world, an perhaps... build one of our own in due time."
"Agreed." Said 04.
"Agreed." Shouted 08 and 05.
"Agreed." Muttered 06. 02, though, kept his silence.
"You forget, old friend, one crucial detail." Said 02 defiantly. 07 lifted an eyebrow at 02's question, only to chuckle lightly at his comment.
"And what, old friend, would that detail be?"
"The Second is in NERV's possession, as is the pilot. Our funds have been seized, and our forces significantly diminished. NERV is no longer in our control, and the United Nations have turned their backs on this organization. We hold very few allies, and close to no resources. How is it that you plan to accomplish your ambition, if you cannot even reach the weapon that will give us the leverage we need?"
07 laughed lightly, narrowing his eyes yet again. It was always beautiful to see a plan come to complete fruition, only this time nobody would be able to stand in hi way. He had the one thing that moved humanity besides fear; he possessed money, mountains of it. Money was all he needed to accomplish his so called `ambition´.
"It is you who forget a detail, 02. We still have an unstoppable force on our side. That force alone is capable of erasing any army that stands in its way. True again, he is no one's side but his own, but I know how to force his Bolshevik petulant ass for us, gentlemen. You know the force of which I speak of, had we made use of him in the war against the Angels, it would have been terminated long before."
"You… you don´t mean…" Stuttered 02 in fear. 07 was delusional if he wanted to use him.
"Yes, indeed I do."
"This is insanity, 07!" Screamed 06 through his communicator. "There is a reason why he was not used before! He cannot be controlled! He's a loose canyon, he answers to no one! It's more likely that he will kill us all instead of helping us! he has already tried!"
"Gentlemen, you will understand shortly. Listen."
"Do you not understand?! He cannot be controlled!" Screamed 02 in outrage.
"We don't need to control him, you fools!" screamed 07 angrily in response. The nerve of these imbeciles.
"We need only to unleash him."
Silence fell again in the room. The risks were being analyzed by every attending member of the meeting. Using that thing was far too dangerous.
"This offers a considerable risk, 07. How will you stop him? I must remind you of the Siberia incident. The Unit clearly broke out of its restraints, and if I recall correctly, it cost us more than two hundred lives and over twenty billion dollars just to erase it from the media. If our research is correct, there is a deeper bond between him and the monster than what we understand at this point. It is risky to play that card, 07." 05 had always been the most analytical one, he calculated and used logic and probability to asses all situations. A pity that his offspring had not inherited the trait.
"The boy desires, more than anything, his freedom, gentlemen. In order to obtain it, he must work for us, or at least it is what he believes. Have you forgotten that we still have his pet in our possession?"
"And for how long?" asked 08. "You know that thing is as unstable as he is. There was nothing regarding that beast in the Dead Sea Scrolls, nothing, which is why we did not use it in the first place, 07. Are you certain you are willing to take that risk?"
"Modifications have been made, 08. You all have a right to be uncertain regarding him, but rest assured, if he steps out of line, I will boil him in his own dirty blood. New systems have been added to the Entry Plug, we can now monitor all of it's movements and even manipulate its power. This force is in our hands."
"Proceed, then. We will decide the fate of this pitiful future and built it in the image of perfection. Yes, we controlled the world once, but now, we will have to rely on no one to make our decisions, we will have the weapons in our power." muttered 02 in agreement at last.
"It is time to move ahead, gentlemen. Now is our moment, our opportunity to take what belongs to us," said 05 with pride. Acceptance grew in the dark Hall, soon all their plans would be complete, and they would have the power to crush any puny insects that stood in their way. It was time to claim their vendetta. It was time to call him.
"Gentlemen…" Uttered 07, before lapping into silence. Was he certain he wanted to take this risk?
Him. The army boy, the unspoken pilot, the boy nobody had ever heard about for good reason, for the very reason that he was not a designated pilot. The good for nothing fucking orphan who had killed five of his seven commanding officers, the little bastard who had managed to almost kill Keel himself. He knew the workings of their organization so well, the sick little toad, that the crazy bastard had managed to get into Lorenz's office and almost slice his metallic throat open. The nerve of the brat.
"Contact him…"
There were always some consequences when raising Child Soldiers, such as the possibility of them becoming deranged mass murderers and turning extremely rebellious, which required discarding them much too soon. A pity that this one could not be discarded, he was, after all, the only one able to control the beast they had hidden deep beneath Siberia. The boy had been a particularly exhaustive thorn on their side, never obeying their orders, even when they took every last thing from him, not even when they had tortured him, attempting to bow him to submission for years on end and filling his body with hideous scars. No matter, the boy would finally be of use. They would have their revenge, even if they had to come to him for help.
"Contact… Child Zero."
Slowly, the scent of the ocean brought reality to focus. Eyes opened, lungs constricted and organs came to life in a body now completely human. Hazed thoughts organized, perceptions dissipated and the strange longing of the foreseen happiness made itself present in the unaccustomed chest of Ayanami Rei. The world was full of color, of smells and tastes and emotions all so foreign to her, all so frightening. Since conception, she had been taught to avoid such emotions and concentrate on her objective, on her purpose. Now, though, now there was no purpose anymore.
Lilith was no more, and in a last act of love towards her Children, the great mother had deemed her fit to live the life of a normal human being. It was such a strange sensation; to be human was a concept so hard to grasp, and even more difficult to describe or interpret. This was not a blunt fact that needed nothing more than its memorization, no, this was… it simply was. And it felt wonderful.
Freedom…
Freedom felt incredible. There was so much she could do, so much she could see, taste, explore, love, hate, adore, worship, despise, accept and overall experience, that the mere thought of her possibilities made her dizzy.
Slowly, she rose from her lying position on the soft, white sand and was subjected to one most amazing view. The sun was setting over Tokyo. It was… breathtaking. Where there had only been destruction and pain, now life bloomed, where battles had been waged not long before, flowers grew and prospered with a beautiful balance.
She rose, for once self-aware of the fact that she wore clothes and for once thankful for it. She felt… uneasy when naked, perhaps the word to describe such a sensation would be shame. It alone made her feel content, satisfied to feel, happy to be alive. She walked along the beach in glee, allowing the wind to caress her bluish strands of short, silky hair. Sadly enough, much too soon was her blissful awakening interrupted by a face, a face and a strain of memories.
Soon enough she felt her body overcome with a new and amazingly strong, poisonous sensation, a profound and almost instinctual feeling. The instinctive reaction a wolf displayed when its kin was in danger. It was a deep, primal, hot sensation she felt rising from within, a hot vortex of emotion that boiled with restrained space and dark fire that threatened to consume her senses.
Rage. Raw, unforgiving, stifling, blinding, uncontrollable and righteous Rage.
Misato sat with a mug of cold, tasteless coffee in her hands. She did not know what to make of things as of late, nor did she know how to react to the events that had transpired only moments before, she truly had no idea of what to do for the children she held so dear to her heart. What had just transpired was truly amazing, Asuka had managed to do what no medication and no comfort had managed to do for Shinji ever before, she had been able to soothe his troubled pshyche. The very thought of the former Third Child's subconscious brought even more worries to Misato's hazed and tired mind.
"God, Ritsuko…" She whispered hoarsely to her former friend, sitting beside her.
"What does that poor boy see…? Did you hear him scream? Oh God… what horrors must he be seeing…?" She took a gulp of cold coffee and grimaced.
"It's most likely Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Misato." Ritsuko responded, sighing. "After all he's been through; he probably has nightmares so vivid that he actually feels he's living through them… All the battles he was in… witnessing the end of the world… being the only human being on Earth for God knows how long… it's a damn miracle he hasn't gone completely insane yet…"
Ritsuko's tone was resentful, sorrowful even. Even when it held the professional edge she adopted when speaking of scientific matters, the pure, raw self-hatred is crystal-clear in her voice.
"I don't like it."
Misato's voice broke the apparent silence that seemed to have fallen upon them. Her comment was as strange as it was unexpected.
"What exactly is it that you don't like, Misato?" Asked the Commander bitterly, knowing full well it was probably another of her comments revolving around her involvement in the End of the world, yeah, sure, another 'you're such a bitch and don't even deserve to be near my precious, little Sh-
"I don't like to leave that girl there with Shinji."
Ritsuko's eyes almost bulged out her sockets. If the woman in front of her disliked having Asuka be close to Shinji, why did she always insist on bringing the troublesome child with her every time she visited him?
"So why do you let her get close to him? Asuka's just as affected as he is, Misato. She probably doesn't even know what she's doing half the time. I've been around durning the past 6 months, that girl… she abused him in every way possible, and always has that look on her face. You know the one."
Misato's eyes turned resentful, angry even. Yes, thee woman was right, she remembered Asuka's comments every time she asked about Shinji´s bruises, `the little worm tripped´; `he deserved it´, `he's an idiot, he tripped´, and so on. But then, why did Asuka look so absolutely crushed? Why did she actually acting out her guilt after eight months? Why were her words always so bitter and forced?
"I don't know what to do." She admitted in defeat. "The mother in me tells me to rip that brat away from him and mail her crazy ass straight back to Germany, but the other side of me tells me I'd be doing Shinji more damage if I did. I just… don't know what to do anymore."
Despair bled over Misato´s tone, her face wrinkled in worry and weariness. She looked so much older and sadder than the woman who had helped defeat the angels and miles away from the girl she had gone to college with. She really did hate herself at that moment, because she was about to deliver more bad news to someone who needed a week's rest with her broken little family, and not more terrible information.
Sighing, Ritsuko decided to get it done.
"Misato, listen… There are more urgent matters we have to discuss." As the Major moved to challenge her statement and imply what could be more important that her Shinji suffering a complete mental breakdown, she stopped her.
"Unit Two activated on its own no less than a day ago." Misato´s eyes bulged open, all the color draining from her face.
"H-How…"
"We don't know. Somehow, the core managed to regenerate and evolve by itself, it simply turned into a Super Selunoid core and re-activated whatever... remained of Unit Two, but that's not all, I'm afraid..."
Ritsuko took a moment to compose herself, trying to rid the image of the video feed on the Graveyard. The way that… that beast had just about devoured the EVA Series, it was beyond disgusting. It had taken its time, the horrendous monster-
"What, Ritsuko, what is it?" Demanded Misato, shaking her on the shoulder and almost making the coffee mug fall on the floor.
"It… It ate the EVA Series, Misato. Simply ate them, like Unit One ate the Fourteenth, with just one difference. The EVA Series still had all their cores more or less intact, they were simply inactive, hell petrified. Somehow their dead cores reacted to Unit 02's... and...now, now that thing has absorbed all nine cores into itself."
"Why didn't you do something to stop it?" Misato demanded almost instantly, standing from the table in anger.
"Like what? This is an Evangelion we're talking about here! What war machine developed by man aside from another EVA could possibly stop that thing?" Screamed Ritsuko in her former friend's face.
The purple-haired Sub-Commander seemed to accept her answer and sat back down, taking a large breath to compose herself. It was impossible; she had seen the remains of Unit Two, it was just impossible that it could have rebuilt itself. There was no way, but what was worse was what would happen, should the government, or worse, the UN hear about it. They would attempt to take it for themselves and copy it, in an attempt to create the ultimate weapon or worse, try to initiate another Impact.
It was simply human nature, after all.
"Damn…" muttered Misato at last. "What the hell are we gonna do?"
"I… don't know either. There have been reports that SEELE is still active, even if they're at their weakest, they are always a potential threat. Now that the world knows exactly how much power we've been manipulating, every influential entity still existent will want it for itself, we have to find a way to destroy it."
"Yeah, try telling that to Asuka."
The two females fell into silence once again. Misato resisted the sudden urge to groan out to the heavens. It just wasn't fair, the poor kids deserved a damn break. Now she would be forced have to tell Asuka that her Evangelion had been magically restored, and the best part, that the Evangelion possibly containing her mother's soul was about to be nuked to Kingdom Come, if all went well.
It took three extra seconds for her to make her choice.
"You know what? You deal with this shit. I'm sick of this, I'm sick and tired of having to run here because my children suffer from the deepest traumas anyone has ever seen, I'm sick of not being able to relax in my own fucking house." her fingers almost cracked the mug into pieces as glared down at the blonde. "I'm tired of waking up and being loaded with the world's personal piles of shit on my table, I'm sick of having to deal with all of these fucking media parasites trying to get answers that I don't have, I'm sick of feeling so fucking guilty of all the time and I'm sick of you!"
By the time she was done the mug in her hold was quaking, her foot was on the table and her arm was ready to swing the poor, innocent piece of porcelain into the wall. Breathing in relief, she set the cup down and relaxed. Ritsuko looked like she had just been slapped, and it looked beautiful.
"You deal with all this shit, it's your mess after all, you know. I'm gonna wait for my Shinji-kun to heal, which you will personally oversee if you know what's good for you, and then I'm gonna go on a long, expensive vacation that you will be paying, so consider this my official resignation to all this crap, find yourself a new Sub-Commander."
She exited the dining area with a satisfied smile on her face, feeling powerful and free and simply untouchable.
"Oh, and I expect a huge bonus with that'll keep me having to work another day and live a life of luxury, as I expect tons of cash for the kids, and of course that includes college, cars, parties, travels, the works! See ya!"
Ritsuko stood there perplexed, watching in disbelief a Misato all but skipped her way into Shinji´s room. She didn´t even have a chance to tell her that the Commander, the Bastard King himself, had returned from the Sea of Goo, as the purple haired former Major liked to refer to it, and sooner or later said Bastard King would want to know if his son was still alive.
…
What the hell. Misato deserved a little break.
"Well…" she blinked finally, speaking to no-one. "That sounds fair."
Attempting, against everything in her nature, to be quiet and cautious, Misato all but tip-toed her way into the small hospital room currently housing her two young children. The room somehow seemed a bit homier, it felt warm, comfortable. Like home. Slowly, she managed to arrange herself cozily in a chair with the aid of some stolen pillows and blankets. Her eyes fell on the young pair dozing off in Shinji's bed. Making sure there was no hanky panky, she relaxed and watched with amusement how Asuka had managed to position herself on Shinji's bed without compromising his injuries on the machines around him, which had been reduced to about half in the latest days.
She fell into a deep, relaxing and well deserved nap, not even minding the fact that it was well over noon, and absolutely not the proper time for it. A deep, relaxing and 13-hour lasting nap…
Fuck. He had not even managed to get out of the elevator. As soon as the former Commander had set foot on NERV, the authorities had been summoned from all over the Nation. Of course, it was to be expected, after all. Twenty JSDDF soldiers had been waiting for him, along with two UN representatives and over ten police officers. Not a word had they said, instead, the had simply grabbed him, cuffed him, a rather useless precaution considering he only had one hand, and proceeded to exit him out of the facilities in front of every paparazzi around, creating a spectacle of pathetically big proportions.
Fuck.
He knew nothing of his son, nothing of his organization. The halls and metallic doors had never felt so welcoming and so small, so few and so lonely. His kingdom was the mirror image of him. A palace of solitude, a fortress designed to crush every last human close to it and leave them as shattered and cold as the King himself.
As he was carried out of his own organization cuffed; arrested and publicly humiliated, he could only think of SEELE's plan and the government's procedure, should Third Impact fail or be averted. It was sickening, twisted and already in motion. Search and Destroy. They would hunt each and every person involved in anything regarding NERV and slaughter them without mercy or remorse if not provided with another way to reach Complementation. The killing would not stop at them, SEELE would exterminate all their family members, all their relatives and friends. Search and Destroy, that meant the Government was not only preparing to strike, they were already working in a convincing cover-up. He knew that SEELE had yet to reveal its deadliest weapon, he knew of the thing being restrained in Siberia and he knew they had already sent their elites to do the government's dirty work. Most likely, they had reserved the worst of them to handle him and his family.
He would not allow it, he would not allow them to harm the Children he had so viciously manipulated for years. All he had done, he had done for a false dream, a false promise. He too had been manipulated, yet it changed nothing. He had planned his own son's traumas, he had manufactured the conditions and encouraged his son's fall into madness and total despair. Shinji did not deserve to pay for that, neither did Asuka, or Rei, or any of the innocents who had only done their job in NERV. He would not let those innocents be hurt further, even if he had to give his life, even if he had to endure the worst tortures known t mankind.
As Ikari Gendou was let out of the Geo-Front, his eyes bore the signs of endless determination; his expression was that of a man on a mission. Had someone bothered to mention or even notice, had the paparazzi not been too busy taking useless pictures of him and throwing loud questions that would go unanswered, had someone stared into his face with a knowing eye, they´d had seen the resemblance between father and son.
It was somewhat ironic that at their bravest, boldest and most selfless moments, both father and son looked exactly the same.
The office was quiet, as all lay untouched inside the small room. Stains of dark red could be seen over the dark, the smell of blood and gunpowder infected the atmosphere as silence reigned over the area. The rapid breathing of a man broke the calm for a moment, then, the hurried stumbling of feet infested the office, as terrified screams were heard from afar. A figure turned, desperate, and ran for cover underneath the table, praying to whatever deity that still roams the Earth to please spare him of a horrible fate. Soon, very quiet steps could be heard, one resonated after the other as another figure became visible in the fogy darkness that covers the small room.
The one behind the table, a man, tried not to choke on his own spit as he holds his breath, clutching his NERV insignia for all he was worth. Everyone else was dead, dead or dying. They never saw it coming; the attack was so suppressive and unexpected, so utterly powerful and sudden, they had never stood a chance. They were only a small research facility of a huge organization, no more than a storage facility than anything else, with no weaponry to defend themselves.
The steps shifted in his direction, and ever so slowly came threateningly close to the table under which was hiding. The stench of death was around him, he could smell the blood that lay splattered all over the office. He thought of his wife preparing a home made meal, thought of his two children sitting at home, watching cartoons before going to bed. He thought of the stupid dog, waggling its furry tail whenever he arrived home too tired to even give it a second glance. He thought of dinner with his family on Sunday evenings, and regretted not petting the damn mutt a bit more.
The table was turned, and the man froze in absolute dread, limbs becoming stiff. The figure in front of him is not so large, yet not small at all. Probably a boy, about eighteen years old most likely, probably younger. The boy stank of blood and ash.
"P…pp…plea-please… I have children… please…please don't kill me..!"
Raw terror was audible be heard in the man's voice, raw terror which turneded into absolute horror when the boy grabbed him by the throat and lifted him to eye level with no apparent effort. The eyes of that boy, god, they were more frightening that everything else he had seen in his life, and he has seen some shit. It is like looking into the Reaper's empty sockets, there is nothing there, nothing but bloodlust and wrath. The boy enjoyed himself in watching him squirm.
"Well…" said the figure calmly in fluent Japanese, as he squeezed the life out of the man. "That would depend entirely on you, and on what you tell me…" So calm, so devoid of anything, so lacking of any compassion or disgust, considering the fact that he had just massacred over a fiftry people, more than half of them with his bare hands. Unarmed technicians, mechanics, scientists, none of them with any weapon's training whatsoever.
"W…w…wha-what… What do you want!?" screamed the man hysterically, feeling the so needed oxygen leave his lungs, as the boy's iron grip tightened around his neck. The boy's breath was hot on his face, he could even smell the sandwich the murderer ate for lunch, and it frightens him that much more to be closer to his own death.
"What do you know… about the Evangelion pilots?" The boy's eyes changed, as an interested hunger covered his murderous gaze. The man knew he has to talk if he wanted to live, even if NERV killed him afterwards. Anything was better than being in the hands of this... this monster. So he started talking, told the boy every little thing he knew, leaving no detail out, he roamed through files and delivered photographs, diaries, videotapes, everything he could find. Addresses, names, synch tests results; every detail was transferred. He hated himself for it, knowing well he is dooming the children to their death, but it was an attempt to survive for his own children, for his family. So he did what he was told, but when he sees the boy smile coldly at him after taking what he wants, he knows he will not live. Maybe it´s the boy's eyes that gives it away, or maybe it´s the 9,2mm. Makarov handgun pressing against his throat.
"But… but you said…!"
"So I lied, life is cruel like that at times." The boy offered a small, cold smirk. "Isn't that sad?"
Two seconds later a single shot was heard, and the office fell back into silence. The only living figure left walked through the building, not even minding the corpses lying all around him, nor did he mind the pained and horrified groans of those few who managed to survive yet were unable to escape. He had been in so many battles, seen so much blood and guts and horror and death that walking through a filed of soon-to-be corpses was but another day at the office. Seventeen years old, and already compassion or goodwill have been completely expunged from him.
Plugging headphones into his ears, he allowed the blessed music to infest his brain and drown out the cries and pained grunts. Dream Theater's `In The Name Of God´ resonated in his ears as he relaxed, took a joint out of his pocket, and produced a dry chuckle. Lighting the tip, he observed the file containing the pictures. Heh, the brats looked so weak and pathetic, so utterly helpless at first glance. Bah, pitiable little children. He pitied them so very completely, well, maybe he pitied the girl the most. The boy, though… the boy was rather interesting. He had been offered a false heaven, with false but constant bliss, with endless worlds and endless possibilities and had cleaned his scrawny ass with it, just to return to a broken world with a bitch who treated him like a mangled dog. The kid had balls, and he respected that.
At the very least, it would be a blast to them down. NERV was a difficult organization to infiltrate, after all. Any other thoughts, however, were washed away as the music flowed within him like the blood lust he feels, and he rejoiced in the riffs as they ascended and changed, bringing the piece to a magnificent crescendo.
"Listen… when the prophet speaks to you… killing… in the name of God…"
The communicator rang as he exited the building, bringing him out of his heavenly relaxation. Blowing a mouthful of smoke, he pushed the small button on his belt and took the earphone out, placing the communicator on his left ear instead.
"Do you have the information?" growled a voice in broken Russian through the communicator. God, how he hated these pretentious bastards. Everything was about money to them, money, money, money, like Pink Floyd's song. Bah, money is bullshit if you have no fun with it, thought the boy grimly. He'd spend the money on travels, women and drugs and be left broke in a week if he could, enjoy the desires of the flesh, the only ones left to him anymore, and hopefully die either in an armed standoff or of an overdose.
"Da." The word was his only answer before the line went dead. A message arrived to his communicator, giving the code to collect his earnings for yet another successful mission. Fuck, he'd do it for free if they allowed him to. Death was, after all, his job, and he was quite proficient at it. Besides, it had been a while since had been able to go all out like that night.
Looking at his watch, the cold smirk manifested once more. Soon enough he would turn his captor's plans upside down and destroy them completely, taking everything for himself. There are only two things which mattered to him anymore, power and blood. Soon, all the power he craved and needed would be at a hand, and those SEELE bastards would regret ever contacting him, they would regret ever fucking with him. Blood and power, death and glory, the only motivations of a true warrior, unlike these little brats he was entrusted to destroy. Revenge; he would get his, in due time.
"Greedy pigs… ambitious and blind…" He muttered while counting the seconds left to the show; fireworks had always been a personal favorite, after all. The mission was to collect the information and leave no witnesses, so he decided to create a masterpiece of death and fire; a statement to those about to suffer under his wrath. The poor fools thought he did what he did for money. Money of all things, poor ignorant old bats.
"Money and power... pfff. As if money doesn't burn, as well. As if power is ever eternal. Idiots." He shook his head in derision. "Flesh, bone, desire, dreams, family, bonds, life. Fire consumes it all." With that last phrase, a huge explosion is heard. The underground base explodes in a beautiful mosaic of reds, oranges and grays. Simply gorgeous. Fire devoured everything, and the smell of burning flesh could be felt from a mile away.
As the fire illuminated the dark night, an enormous figure became distinguishable behind the boy. His black uniform was covered in blood that still leaked off his knives; the smell and feel of the crimson liquid had become so familiar he rarely bothered with it an longer. The massive shadow moved without as much as a command, extending a hand for him to climb. Two blood red eyes lit up in the night as the bestial Evangelion activated on its own. Black armor covered it's body, with the exception of its shoulders, where a red X can be seen on each side. Its facial mask was alike that that of Unit 01, minus the horn. Built in secret, found, not cloned out of some useless fetus, the dark behemoth stood tall as it awaited it's pilot's commands. It resembled a beast more than it did a human.
The boy climbed on the enormous hand, calmly smoking and enjoying the fires which consumed the base, not even flinching as the gigantic apparition brought him up to its shoulder. He opened the folder, snatched the picture of the brown haired boy supposed to be his primary target and raised an eyebrow. A slow, painful death, they told him. Pff, foold, even when he was completely insane, he was not about to go and assassinate the world's savior, there would be no sport in that; no fun, maybe some challenge, but little satisfaction in the end. The only thing he needed from NERV, from the boy, was for them to do as they always did and fucked something up. Then the power would be available to him. The power of gods and demons, the power to be free.
"So, Ikari Shinji… I think you and I are going to be very good friends." Chuckling at his own little joke, he rejoiced in the display of fire and brimstone in front of him, the wondrous sight of a job well done, of a masterpiece as it is finished. The music blasted from his earphones as the smell of burning bodies assaulted his senses. He inhaled the scent with gusto, knowing it all too well; it was easy to picture all of the poor little parasites unlucky enough to survive his attack, could see them as their skin was melted by the raging fires all around, could hear their blood boiling inside their bodies, the horrific spectacle of burning flesh, a spectacle that lasts as long as it takes for the charred muscle and skin to melt off the bone, leaving nothing but beautiful ashes behind. He had at least seven hours of fun.
"Justifying violence… Citing from the Holy Book… Teaching hatred in the name of God…"
His eyes widened in anticipation of the meal to come, the lust for battle overflowing his senses as the song ended and the next began. Laughter erupted form his chest, the sounds reverberates slowly at first, and only seconds later the screams and cries for help are accompanied by an insane cackle which completed the sweet symphony of death and destruction. He kept laughing, simply because he truly found it all so amusing. The sounds disappeared into the night as fire consumes flesh, bone and cloth. All along, he could not help but agree with his own thoughts.
Yes. Nothing ever survives the flames.
TBC…..
Inspirational Music: The Dark Eternal Night, A Rite of Passage, In the name of God- Dream Theater; Old and Wise, La Sagrada Familia-Alan Parsons Proyect; Born To Raise Hell, The King of Kings- Motorhead; Seek And Destroy, Master of Puppets- Metallica; High Hopes, Marooned- Pink Floyd
AN: Well, all I can say is, again, I´m sorry for letting so much time go by, but you know, college and stuff… I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! For all of you who thought this story was dead, well, it´s barely beginning! And for all those who thought this was just another `magical happily ever after´, well, it´s got more! Lots more! There will be fighting, there will be romance, there will be despair, pain , hate, violence, love, peace and war! More than anything, I want to thank all of you who have stayed with this story thus far, you al know who you are hehehe, but anyway, really, thanks for all your support! Oh, that little part about brotherly rage was for all you overprotecting siblings all around! I both HAVE and Am an overprotective brother, so, you all know what I mean! Rambling again… anyways… I' still revising! Love yal!
PEACE.