Shinji awoke with a yawn, pushing the dust out of his eyes. Last night wasn't good. But maybe today could be better. Asuka just needed some space, and he just needed some perspective so he could explain himself…

"Where did this come from?!"

Shinji froze right outside his door. "Oh no."

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Asuka, I swear to god, I can get the stupid pilots' ceremony called off—"

"It's not about that." He could picture her waving her hand as she said it, a smug pout on her face.

"You can't just tell me you want to leave without a reason!"

"It's not like you want me here in the first place! As long as you have Shin-chan, I'm just window dressing!"

"That is not true! I'm sorry if you feel like I play favorites, but it's bullshit!"

In the back of his mind, Shinji wasn't sure. His first hug with Misato on that chilly day she stumbled into their camp was almost painfully longer than the one she shared with Asuka.

"And besides, Shinji wasn't the one who threw a vase when that UN therapist just suggested the idea that you live separately from us—!"

"Shut up." Shinji could barely hear the low growl. The pit of his stomach dropped.

"That was different. I was… being stupid. I couldn't see then how that idiot does nothing but hold me back."

"I know you don't mean that, Asuka…"

"You don't know what the hell I mean!"

There was a thick pause. Shinji's hand trembled near the door handle, wondering if now was his moment to walk out.

"And. Besides. He doesn't need me."

But I do need you.

His mind was screaming it, but he couldn't walk out there. He couldn't run out and say it. His hand, no, his whole body wouldn't move.

"It's just like that bastard to leave me…! I can't lose now! Not with MAMA watching me!"

"Oh god… Shinji, it's… ASUKA! ASUKA!"

Shinji folded up against the door, eyes burning, ears dead to whatever conversation continued.

Misato was frightened of him. Or maybe not frightened of him, exactly, but what to say to him. Frightened of ruining things even more if she let one wrong word slip.

"Shinji… are you OK?" She winced as soon as the words came out of her mouth. Stupid. She could only barely see him shuffle when he heard her. He was splayed out so freely on his bed that it struck her as too relaxed.

"I'm sorry, Misato." She had to strain to hear him. "It's… my fault."

"About Asuka?! Don't blame yourself for one minute. She's under a lot of stress…"

"I went to see Kaworu last night."

Time seemed to stop for a second. Misato felt as if her blood had undergone a swift and painful metamorphosis into venom.

"Why?" Her lips were stretched white. She was glad he wasn't looking at her.

"He… he needs somebody. No one's going to talk to someone like him… the UN won't help. He'll be thrown away… like… like Aya…!"

He swallowed the end of the name, refusing to speak it. A burst of pity interrupted Misato's anger at that hideous manipulative red-eyed little freak. She couldn't get mad now. It would only make him withdraw.

"Shinji. Are you sure you weren't going to see him because you feel like you need him?"

He wasn't talking, but she could hear the struggle in his voice. He breathed heavy, actively fighting back tears. She took a hesitant step into the room and the shadow inside consumed her foot as she did.

"I don't know what… Kaworu… was like before, Shinji… but the Kaworu you're talking to now isn't—"

"I know that," he choked, with enough bite that she stopped creeping inside the room. "I know it's not him… I know Asuka hates me and I know you're going to tell me to forget about him…"

He turned on his side so she couldn't see his face. She reflexively leaned to try and do so anyway.

"Is it wrong to need somebody? Is it wrong to have somebody that just understands and listens and… accepts? Is it wrong that there are things I can't tell you and Asuka, but I can tell him? Because he just. Listens?" He shuddered into his sheets. "Is it wrong?"

Misato felt the urge to leave the room, close the door on him, let him weep out his problems until morning. She hated seeing him like this and she hated hearing that he would tell an enemy secrets that he wouldn't tell her. Now she was barely, slightly, angry.

But she couldn't run away. Not anymore. She took the slightest step forward and she was near the bed now.

"Shinji. I'll listen. Suzuhara or Aida will listen. Even Asuka will listen." She swallowed hard. "But… you have to accept that, sometimes, it's a two-way conversation. I think you want to talk to that boy as… well, almost like a security blanket. Doesn't question you. Doesn't challenge you. And maybe that's what Asuka doesn't like. She feels like she's being sidelined for someone who's… well. Barely human."

Shinji was silent. If he objected to her words, he wasn't saying it. He just stared intensely at the wall to the right.

She did the unthinkable, considering the last time she was in this situation. She placed a hand on his arm. He flinched and went stiff at the gesture: but he didn't draw back. Misato steeled herself.

"You're important to me," she whispered. "You can always talk to me. Just talk to me."

He didn't look at her. Eyes set on the wall, he wet his lips and began to talk.

Kaworu frowned as the phone recited the timid, polite voicemail message for the third straight time. He was certain he had saved the correct number. Perhaps Shinji was asleep. Or busy.

"Nonsense," he determined. "He would not sleep so late. And his schedule is free on Saturdays."

Kaworu decided it was simply a bad call. Sometimes the telephones must not quite get the message across. He knew that this was the case. Shinji would answer him immediately if it was not. He knew.

"Hmph, I was right!" he thought as the ringing cut off before the second refrain could finish.

"What." It was the most sharp and hostile voice he had heard yet. Worse than the shouting UN agents. And though it was not Shinji, he realized that instantly, it sounded familiar.

"Hello. Is Shinji there?"

"Shinji does not want to talk right now." She spoke in a hushed voice, yet it was dripping with anger. He did not understand. Was she upset with him? With Shinji? "If you would like to tell him something, leave the message with me."

"Are you Katsuragi?"

The woman's breath spiked and it impacted on her receiver like an explosion. Kaworu flinched in surprise.

"That's not relevant. But yes." A pause. "What do you want to tell him."

"I would like to speak with him when he is feeling well." Kaworu stopped to consider the situation. If he was not feeling well… "Maybe it would be better if I come to him?"

"No." It was an instant answer. In fact, it barely overlapped with the end of his question. "Shinji will call you when he's ready."

She hung up, leaving nothing but a dull tone sounding in Kaworu's ear. He frowned. He did not like the way that call had gone at all. He did not like that woman very much, either. Why did she have Shinji's phone?

"What if the UN is holding him? Like I was held?" It was a scary thought. For the first time in his waking days, Kaworu felt a terrifying sensation: paranoia. He even began to feel the faintest beads of sweat forming under his arms, on the back of his neck. Was he ill? Was this the same illness that kept Shinji from speaking with him? Why why why did that woman pick up the phone?

Pure instinct drove him to put on some slacks and walk out the door. He was not sure how he had gotten to him the last two times, but he would reach him one way or another. He would find Shinji.

The pair of women standing next to Asuka chattered in chirping voices like bubblegum, and it was hard work to restrain the instinct to kick them. Stomp them into the floor, scream at them for daring to act happy. It was an instinct she was repressing a lot lately, more and more, even with the few people she thought she liked.

"This will go so well with my new heels," the shorter one sighed, holding up a black dress as her companion nodded enthusiastically. Asuka stalked away. What she was looking for was not here.

"Fashion, fashion. Fashion. The sea is red and everyone's parents are missing and they care about fashion."

It was a thought filled with self-loathing. She'd come looking for a dress herself, one she'd lost somewhere in the impact. Why, she didn't know. She didn't even want to consider the reasons; any glimpses of them that occurred just made her angrier. Maybe it was because she'd stepped into Japan with it on, and she wanted to step back into Germany wearing it too, a sort of mirror image…

"Idiot."

She was done browsing. She left the store with clenched fists, walking tightly, hyper-aware of the suited men following not-so-discretely behind her. She was not supposed to be out like this.

Section-2 agents. They were always close by. Ever since the shooting incident, when it became apparent that, yes, sects of people still believed that she and Shinji were demons. Or, if the group wasn't religious, they just wanted some kind of holistic vengeance on the people responsible for all of this. That much, really, was true. And maybe the demon shit was, too. She was used to being called a devil.

She turned the corner and heard their steel-toed boots clacking on the sidewalk behind her. She clenched her teeth.

"'Oh, give her her space,'" she said mockingly, letting her voice carry to them over her shoulder. "Is that why you haven't stopped me yet? Is that why you just stalk me and haven't shoved me into a car?"

She hoped they were shuffling and pink in the faces. People around her gave her irritated glances as they passed.

"Am I right? Why don't you tell me exactly what that bitch told you to do, you—!"

She wheeled around only to come face-to-face with Kaworu Nagisa. He stood stock-still with the tiniest smile on his face.

"Hello. Have we met?"

Sorry for the long stretch between chapters. I'm a college student so school got in the way a bit. With the semester over I hope to have this story finished fairly soon. Thanks to anyone still reading :)