"Babe, the boys are here," calls Naomi sweetly, her voice drifting out from somewhere inside the house. I hear laughter - hello's, good-to-see-you's, thanks-for-having-us's. Standard arrival fare.

I flip the burgers on the grill, sending the pink sides down to get worked by the hot coals, and wipe a bead of sweat from my brow. Fayetteville summers were a beast of their own, maybe as bad as the ones I've spent in Kandahar. The heat from the grill definitely isn't helping.

A powerful slap on my back jolts me and I turn to see none other than my friend Jake, fellow cool guy extraordinaire, grinning from ear to ear and holding out a freshly popped-open Corona Extra - complete with lime. Like most others in our community, his casual attire includes an ever-present baseball cap tucked over his messy brown hair. For some reason, the sight of his bearded face strikes me as weird.

… Wait, why would it?

Behind him, I see Chris, Mikey and John stepping out of my house's backdoor with their own beers in hand. Further behind them are Masaki and Ryohei, two buddies we had made when working with the JSDF overseas, who happened to be in town for a conference. They were hurriedly putting their shoes back on, having taken them off to walk from the front door to the back. The Japanese are a peculiar bunch.

I brush off the feeling that I don't remember this house, grab the offered Corona and clink the longnecks with Jake in a toast. Something still feels off - but the carbonated, alcoholic lime-water tastes just as it should.

"Never thought I'd see the day," says Jake, jokingly. "Sergeant Major Darren Scott - Former Action Guy. Retiree. Old dude."

"I'll take everything but the third one," I grumble, as the rest of the boys come to join us around the grill. We repeat the process: glasses clink, bottles raise, beer is drunk. "I am not old. Just really fucking tired."

"In my book they're one and the same, so yeah, you're old," says John, the youngest one in our Squadron, clad in a backwards trucker hat and douchebag-big sunglasses.

He snickers then takes a sip of his Corona. "I'm just glad I got a piece of the action before the great Darren Scott threw in the towel. It's the end of an era." He pauses, almost lost in thought.

"Congratulations, by the way."

I'm not sure whether to thank him, or chew his ass out. I settle on the first, gesturing towards him wordlessly with my cold 'Rona.

By now, Masa and Ryo have gotten their shoes on and rallied on the grill as well. The younger Ryo has his own Corona in hand, while Masa nurses a whiskey highball, the tall glass sweating in the late afternoon sun.

"Anybody else coming by?" asks Mikey, looking around at the assembled motley crew. I shake my head in the negative.

"Nope. Naomi's got a bigger party planned soon, but today it's just going to be us boys. Nice and quiet."

"Perfect. We can get trashed without leadership breathing down our necks," says John, grinning, somehow producing a large bottle of my preferred poison from within his backpack. The green glass of the Jameson glints in the sun - Ryohei recoils at the sight, while Masa erupts into his own smile. That dude loved his whisky.

"Ah, what the hell," I find myself saying, "Line us up."

John grabs a stack of disposable shotglasses from the bag and begins to pour.

Some time later, the question finally comes up:

"So, why retirement?"

Jake's query hovers at the edge of my buzz - luckily, I'm not gone enough to fuck up my answer. I give it to him straight.

"I've been fighting for way too long, my friend," I reply. "And now that our current administration has seen fit to abandon the conflict that defined my adult life… I gotta ask, what's the fucking point in sticking around?"

I begin scooping up another batch of medium-rare burgers onto the plate I had prepared, trying to figure out exactly what conflict I was talking about.

"Charlie-01 is hanging it up. I've gotta start doing things for Darren Scott."

The callsign rolls off my tongue easily, as familiar as my own heartbeat, even though no such call sign ever existed in the ranks of the Unit.

Jake doesn't notice, or doesn't care. He nods.

"Fair enough. You've earned it, man; I'm happy for you. Though I do feel a little bad for Naomi - you know the wives' club enjoys our deployments as much as we do!"

I scowl at him in response. We were pretty open with humor, but any jokes involving the love of my life were borderline unacceptable for me. Jake sees the look on my face and holds his palms up apologetically.

"Hey, my bad, man. Didn't mean to strike a nerve there"

Nerve.

Nerve.

… NERV…?

All it takes is a single world and everything comes back, flooding my brain. The end of the world and giant robots and alien monsters and gunfire and blood and-

"... You're dead," I say, staring into Jake's eyes.

"Are you that mad? Come on D, it was just a joke-"

"No. You are dead," I repeat. "As in you're not supposed to be here. You've been …. gone."

"All right, D, now I know you're trashed," says Jake, laughing. "What the fuck are you on about?"

"We never went to Afghanistan. We never got the chance to," I continue, remembering as I went along. God, it hurt to remember.

"Naomi and I never lived here - she died during Second Impact, before we could even think about having our own place, our own life. And…"

I swallow, the memories coming back to me.

"... You died too, Jake. I dropped behind the sandbags but you kept shooting - that VBIED got you. I'll never forget that. I'll never… forgive myself for it."

Jake's mirth has faded from his face entirely, his easygoing smile changed over to lips pressed tight into a line. I turn to face the rest of the boys, who, by this time, have all fallen silent.

"We're all dead," I say, "We all died in that Cage, fighting... And I wouldn't have wanted to go out any other way."

We sit for what must be hours, absently munching at lukewarm burgers and sipping at our beers as we get each other up to speed. Every so often John pours a round of whisky shots, and I savor the burn that feels too good to be true.

"Giant robots, huh?" asks Jake, his eyes wide in amazement but still slightly glassed over. The Jameson has since taken effect. He shakes his head.

"Damn, I can't believe I missed out on all that. You always get to have all the fun."

"It's not like we were the pilots or anything," I say, after chewing the last bite of my burger. "We were security guards. I mean, granted, we were the coolest security guards there…"

The other guys laugh as I downplay our importance.

"He's right," agrees Masa, chuckling. "For what it's worth we really didn't do much."

"Yep," says Mikey, "Half the time, all we did was train, or hide in the shelters while the kids had their kaiju fights. The only real gunfight we got into was the one at… the end."

"And what a gunfight it was," I say, raising my glass and taking a swig. The others follow suit. "Boys, that was a great entry, and we did what we could to hold… but let's face it, we were never going to keep that Cage with all of us left standing."

"He made it, though, right?" asks John. "He got in and saved the day."

"As far as I can tell, yes, he did," I respond. "Mission accomplished."

The mood turns somber for just a moment, as we reflect on what I had just said. The mission was doomed from the start, true - but we had walked in, no questions asked, and executed the best we could in light of the situation. We did our job, and we could be proud of that.

Chris, however, finds this to be a perfect time to start bitching. He's still irritated.

"Really though? I got done in by an RPG?" he complains. "So fucking uncool. How impersonal can you get?"

He gestures to me with the same amount of annoyance.

"At least Bossman here got to go out after a gunfight."

"Don't envy me, I ultimately got killed by an RPG as well," I say. "It was not exactly a pleasant experience. Almost as painful as having to sit through a karaoke session with you."

All the boys except Jake laugh in remembrance of our nights on the town in Tokyo-3, blowing off steam from long days stuck in the Geofront, but he smiles along anyway - he knows this is an important memory for us.

I feel a tingle in the back of my skull, and peer over my shoulder to face the house just as Naomi pokes her head out of the backdoor and waves, a serene smile on her face. It's been a long, long while since I've seen her this happy - I've missed this.

"Babe, you've got another visitor!" she calls out, "Says she knows you from work?"

"'She?'" asks Jake, his eyebrows arching up. "Not many women in our career field. Something you're not telling us, D?"

Naomi turns her head to talk to someone inside, laughs, then draws back to clear the doorway.

A young woman steps out of the backdoor, clad in a yellow sundress and red high heels. I never thought I'd see her again.

She's older and taller than I remember; her azure eyes are a little more distant than the last time I had seen her, but that brilliant red-orange hair is unforgettable. Without her usual crimson hair clips, it cascades down her back, much longer than I recall.

"I don't know how the hell you ended up here," I say, "but it's good to see a familiar face, Miss Soryu."

I turn to Jake.

"This is the German we've been talking about," I inform him.

"Ah. Her," replies Jake, nodding at her. "Charmed. I've heard a lot about you."

She bristles, freezing at her name being mentioned, then shakes her head before crossing the backyard to join us.

Jake pivots and makes for the boys, fishing another beer out of the cooler as he goes.

"Sounds like you two have got notes to compare. I'll leave you to it."

She waits until Jake has left earshot, then turns her attention to me.

"I've been waiting for a while now - something called me here today, which I can't explain," says the Second Child, foregoing a greeting, zero emotion showing on her face. "I've seen you before. You're usually with Commander Ikari. You were also on the Over the Rainbow when I made the trip from Germany."

"That was us," I reply, the memories shifting between hazy and clear in my mind's eye. "And that was quite a first impression, young lady. We almost thought we'd be swimming to Tokyo-3."

In any other timeline, any other universe, she would have displayed that haughty superiority at being praised, the smug pride that the Second Child was notorious for among the ranks of the NERV commoners. Strangely enough, she doesn't.

Instead, a smile blooms on her face - not the arrogant grin she had become so known for, but a gentle, warm, honest-to-God smile.

"You… were also with Shinji at the end," she says. "You helped him. Pushed him forward. I saw you in his memories."

She closes her eyes, still smiling, but tears begin to stream down her cheeks. Blushing, she covers her face with her hands.

"Thank you. Thank you…"

"I'm guessing he got to you in time," I say, remembering the marked absence of the Evangelion arm during my final moments in the Cage. "I'm glad."

"I never thought I would be so happy to receive his help. But the second I saw that stupid Unit-01 come out of the launch elevator… I couldn't stop smiling."

"It's not a bad thing to accept an assist. It's what we do - we help each other, make each other better, and sometimes all it takes is just a little push. You can't save the world alone."

I cock a thumb over my shoulder at the boys, who had acknowledged the German with friendly waves before returning to their drinks.

"If not for these assholes watching my back, pushing me forward for all these years… I wouldn't have been where I was when I talked to Shinji, in more ways than one."

"I guess I owe them one, too," replies the Second Child, wiping the tears away.

"You don't owe us shit," I say, "Just make the most of the gifts you get. That's all we can ever ask."

My head tingles again, almost swims, then returns to normal instantly. What the fuck?

Behind Asuka, Naomi emerges again from the backdoor, still smiling the smile that I love but this time tinged with just a hint of annoyance.

"I thought you said it would be 'just the boys' today," she says cheerfully, "but it looks like you have more friends than I thought. While I'm happy that you're opening up to more people… we might be a little short on food at this point."

A young man steps out from behind Naomi, trying to move while slipping his shoes on at the same time. Asuka looks over her shoulder to size up the newcomer and gasps, a hand covering her mouth in surprise.

He's taller now, too, his brown hair now longer but less messy, handled with care. He is dressed as simply as he did in a life past: a white t-shirt and slim back pants round out his appearance.

The last time I saw him, his eyes were dead, hollow - ready to surrender. Now, they are bright and full of hope.

"Hello, sir," he says, walking up to me and shaking my hand. He draws back and turns to smile at the Second Child. "And hello to you, too, Asuka. I'm glad I found you."

The blush deepens across her face, and she opens and closes her mouth several times, trying and failing to find the words she wants to say. Finally, she surrenders, looking down and casting her gaze to the side.

Without hesitation, Shinji reaches his hand out to her. It takes her a few seconds, but she finally offers her own in return. That same warm smile returns to her lips as their fingers intertwine.

Ah, to be young again. Must be nice.

Behind the pair, Naomi tilts her head, puzzled, giving me the "what the fuck?" look I had learned so early in our relationship. I shrug and mouth "long story" - she shakes her head and walks back into the house after giving a shrug of her own.

Now joined together, Shinji takes his place next to Asuka. For all the times I've seen them bickering in Central Dogma, her slapping at him and him cowering in fear… the young pair holding hands in front of me is a strange, yet welcome, sight.

"You never cease to amaze, Mr. Ikari," I say. "Looks like you won in the end."

"Yes and no," he admits, now wearing a slight blush of his own. I'm glad to see that at least some things haven't changed.

"I was able to help Asuka, to fight with her. The enemy couldn't hurt her… but she wasn't the one they wanted. It was me."

"Oh. Shit."

My stomach drops; this was unexpected. Fuck, did I mess things up? Did I give the enemy exactly what they were looking for, what we had fought and died to protect?

"I wish you hadn't told me that, kid. It's starting to sound more and more that getting you into the robot was a mistake."

"No, not a mistake at all," he says, shaking his head. "I did exactly what I needed to do-" he glances at Asuka, "- and now, I know what I have to do. Rei gave me that choice."

I smile, my stomach returning to its former position, a different warmth that I had never felt filling my heart. I had been proud before: of the young soldiers in my care, of my brothers who had given their lives in service of something greater. But nothing like this.

Without conscious thought, I reach forward and squeeze the young man's shoulder.

"Good. You're on the right fucking path, my man. Just keep following it."

Shinji pauses, then turns to look at his companion. Asuka's eyes meet his and they both nod.

"Then that's what we'll do," says Shinji, turning back to face me. "Thank you for all you've done for us, Sergeant Major Scott."

"That's weird. I don't think I ever told you my name or rank. But today's been weird as fuck anyways, so I'll roll with it."

"We're not at work, kid. Just call me Darren. And for what it's worth... thank you. Seeing everybody again means the world."

Both Children smile at each other, but Shinji is the only one to speak.

"I'm not sure we can be called kids anymore, Darren. But thank you nonetheless. I hope we meet again someday."

"Likewise, you two. Be well."

Asuka nods at me, a polite goodbye, and they turn as one to head into the unknown. Hand in hand, the Second and Third Children walk through the back door and into my house. With one final wave, they are gone.

I feel another sensation in my head, followed by a presence around me. I turn to see that the boys have joined me to watch the young pilots take their leave.

"Wait a sec… were those…" begins Chris, shaking his head slowly.

"Yep. They were."

"What a strange day," says Masa, sagely. He sips his highball.

"And they just left?" asks John, frowning. "They didn't even join us for a drink!"

"I doubt they're old enough," responds Mikey. He stretches, yawning while he does so. "And I bet you just wanted extra mouths to dump the Jameson on. I told you you should have gotten the small bottle."

Mikey and John descend into animated shit-talking, the kind that develops between close comrades over the years, with Masa and Ryo laughing along as Chris stands silently, shaking his head.

I smile and take it all in, as much of it as I can get. Even in this false world it feels like home. But I know that it isn't - and I know what must be done.

Jake notices my silence and comes to stand next to me.

"D, you good, man?"

"I'm gonna follow them," I declare, somewhat loudly. "Back to the real world."

I'm loud enough for the boys to hear me. The bickering stops, and all eyes turn toward me to check if I'm serious.

They should know by now that I am.

"... Nah, man. Out of all of us here, you've earned the right to hang it up," says Jake, shaking his head. He's not pleading - merely trying to talk some sense into me, like a friend should. "You put in your time, you spilled the blood… you saved the world."

"You can rest, y'know? You can live - live the life you never got to have, the life that kid bought for all of us… and it'll be just as real as whatever's out there."

"He can. But he won't," says Chris. "There's still work to be done. And as our esteemed leader always said…"

"'Always look for work,'" finishes Ryo, grinning. "There's nothing more pathetic than an assaulter with no job to do."

"Those kids… you felt it, too, right? When they left?" I make a sweeping gesture to my house, the dark-blue afternoon sky, the bottles of beer on the table, the half-eaten burgers on plates. "As real as this is, this isn't reality. They went back - and I can't just leave them alone. Not after all that they've done."

I smile at my teammates - my friends. I had meant for it to encourage them, but I see that they detect my sadness in the way that they smile back at me.

"If I don't do what I can for them, I can't bring myself to face the dead. You guys included."

"... Well, can't say I won't miss you," Jake says with a sigh, turning his face down and scratching his head. He of all people should know when I've made up my mind. "It's been too quiet without you around."

"I'll see you again, man," I say. I reach out and clap his shoulder gently. "There's gonna be a day when I show up here, ready to stay - it's just that today is not that day."

"Fair enough. We all gotta make choices."

He draws me into a hug. Jake was never afraid to hide his affection for his mates. After a couple seconds embrace, we pull apart, smiling.

I make my way around the group of my brothers, shaking hands and clapping backs and sharing last minute laughs before I step off. In our community, goodbyes are warm, emotional affairs, but never drawn out. We are, after all, professionals.

Satisfied with our farewells, I wave to the boys one last time and cross the backyard, heading for the door that would lead me out of this place. I try to steel myself for the last goodbye on my list, but she doesn't give me the chance. As if summoned by whatever powers that govern this place, Naomi steps into the doorway and blocks my path - she is no longer smiling.

Even though she wasn't around to hear our discussions, our talks of past lives and second chances, she knows. Somehow.

"You're sure this is what you want to do?" she asks. I can see her eyes glistening, the slight tremble in her lips, and I do the only thing I can - I pull her towards me gently, and wrap my arms around her. I don't want to let her go again, but I know that I will have to.

"As sure as I was about us. As sure as I am about us," I correct myself.

Glassy eyes turn to full-blown tears, wetting my shirt with warmth. She buries her face in my chest, sobbing, and I hold her even tighter. After a few moments of silence she draws back, sniffling, leaning her head back to look into my eyes. Finally, the smile that I love so much returns to her face.

"Then go. I'm not stupid enough to think I can stop you - but I'll be right there with you. Every day, every moment until you come back here, okay?"

She closes her eyes and her lips open slightly. I tilt my head down and I kiss her, trying to impart all the love and affection and joy in my heart into this one last action.

I hear the boys hooting and cheering behind me, distant, and the world goes black.

I awake to the sounds of crashing waves and a haunting wind, and the sight of a billion ivory-yellow stars in the night sky. A softly-glowing red line cuts through the blackness of space, and stretches to both ends of the horizon. I try - and fail - to take a deep breath, to convince myself that I'm alive, as a few pints of saltwater force their way out of my lungs by way of a series of violent coughs.

I turn my head to the side and let the red fluid spill out of my mouth, too sore to move for the moment. My cheek touches gritty, white sand. In the distance lie the ruins of a city, shattered buildings standing tall where they haven't been knocked to the side.

I'm … alive. I look down and check my body - my rifle is missing, but I'm still wearing the same tattered BDUs and combat gear that I was in when I was… taken.

My Glock is still clutched tightly in my right hand - not wanting to let go of that comfort, I use my left to poke and prod through the holes in my garb. Where there should have been wounds, frag holes and lacerations, there is only solid, unbroken flesh.

"Huh. Neat."

Satisfied that I am whole, and relatively safe, I ease my Glock back into my holster and bring myself to a sitting position. After a few moments of acclimating to real gravity, savoring the feeling of living again, I rise to my feet and scan my surroundings.

It's time to get to work.

I begin walking in the direction of the closest cluster of buildings, my feet getting sucked into the sand with each step. First things first, I need to secure some shelter and supplies. And then I can start looking for…

For...

My train of thought fades away as I stumble across a haphazard assortment of driftwood and carefully-selected rubble, planted upright in the ivory sand and arranged into small memorials, respectively. For the most part, they are marked with names carved into them, names in Japanese that I can't read, and one of them bears a simple white cross hanging from a string.

A smaller cluster of sticks stands slightly separated from the main group, all without names... save for one. I let out a gasp, realizing that whoever had carved it had used the English alphabet and not kanji like the others.

SGM Scott

And below it, a message:

We will not fail.

A grin crosses my lips; they had made it. They were here.

I look up into the blown-out cityscape, wondering how long I had been out - hours, days? Years?

There is no real way of telling, not that it matters. All that matters is that those two were alive, out there. And as long as I am still drawing breath, I would see to it that nothing would ever hurt them again.

I dump the armor out of my vest, preparing for the long walk. The loss of the rifle plates sheds eight pounds from my body. I ensure that my Glock is topped off, reholster it, and begin walking towards the city.

"Can't believe these goddamn kids got me to come out of retirement…"