Chapter 22: Apologies and Promises

Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head
And when I woke up in me hospital bed
And saw what it had done, well I wished I was dead
Never knew there was worse things than dyin'

-Eric Bogle

"What'll you have, soldier?"

"…Huh?"

An extremely confused Bishop just stood and stared at the man who'd asked him the question. He was standing in the doorway of a pub, the bartender looking expectantly across the empty room at him. The place seemed familiar, though only vaguely. Looking behind him saw a closed door, and through the windows looking out onto the street there was only a dense grey fog, the same fog that filled his head when he tried to remember how he got here or where he was before. It was like he'd just suddenly appeared here out of nothing…

"Hey!" The barkeep's voice interrupted his thoughts. "You deaf, son? I'm about to close up here, you want something to drink or not?"

"Uhh…" He eyed the older gentleman behind the counter for a moment, before shrugging and taking a hesitant step towards him. "Sure… Scotch, neat please."

The barkeep raised an amused eyebrow as he fetched a bottle and tumbler from the shelf behind him. "Well, mighty discerning choice for someone your age. Special occasion?"

"My age? I'm thirty two, old timer. I've got back pain and bills to pay." He shot the man a quizzical look as he took a seat on a bar stool. He seemed to be the only patron. "You ought get your eyes checked."

"Very funny, kid. You're Dave Bishop's boy, aren't you? You've got his sense of humour."

Dave Bishop? Dad? It was then that he spotted his reflection in the polished wood paneling behind the bar.

He was… Young. He ran a cautious hand over his face and through his close-cropped hair, feeling smooth unblemished skin. No scar on his forehead, and none on his hands or arms. Looking down, he saw that he was wearing olive drab army fatigues, the freshly minted dog tags that won him so many free meals and rounds of drinks proudly on display around his neck.

"Your old man talks about you all the time kid, he's real proud of you, y'know." The old chatterbox didn't seem to notice his astonishment, going on as he placed the drink in front of the young soldier. "Heard you boys are shipping out east tomorrow. Hell of a thing, isn't it? Can't believe the yanks would follow those maniacs. Least they got some sense out west, heard not many states on our side of the Mississippi recognize the Generals' authority. Some of the governors even mobilized the national guard and refused to let federal troops come through."

"Yeah…" The young soldier wasn't really listening, busy staring at his reflection. He knew how it all ended.

"Boy, old General Simonds is really giving those bastards a bloody nose in the Niagara, eh? The papers said there was a big tank battle near some little town called Fenwick yesterday, a dozen or so of ours stopped a whole brigade dead in its tracks. Bet when you boys get out there, you'll throw the buggers right back across the border!"

Bishop was about to shoot down old man's patriotic bluster, but stopped when he realized what he was talking about. The battle of Fenwick, October 4th, 2001. It was in all the history books: a single squadron of tanks from the 1st Dragoon Guards, well-concealed in a forest, ambushed leading elements of the US 2nd Armoured Division as it advanced through the tiny village. They caught the yanks from the side, destroying many times their number and leaving the road clogged with burning wreckage for days afterward. It typified the strategy used to great effect by Simonds' 1st corps in those early battles near the borders; avoiding head-on confrontation and striking at the flanks of the advancing columns with smaller and more mobile forces, hitting hard wherever it would slow them the most. Buying time was the name of the game, and the price was blood: none of the brave dragoons made it out of that forest alive, a detail Bishop recalled being omitted in the contemporary news reports.

So, today is October 5th, and I ship out tomorrow. I'm eighteen. But why am I in this dump… With what felt like a jolt of electricity though his brain, he suddenly remembered this place. It was the pig and whistle, the old neighborhood bar back home, dad's favorite watering hole. He was here the night before he shipped out, he remembered then, having stopped in on the way to the barracks where he had to report by dawn.

Tomorrow would be a proud day, he recalled fondly. Marching across town to the train station in full fighting order, with cheering, flag-waving crowds all along the way to see them off. We're No Awa' Tae Bide Awa' they sang as they marched, and there were embraces from proud parents and tearful farewells from sweethearts.

Sweethearts… The significance of this place suddenly hit him. He'd stormed out that night after a terrible argument with his wife as he packed his things. She knew something awful would happen if he left, and she tearfully begged him not to go.

She was right. She was always right. But what the hell was he supposed to do? He'd be AWOL if he didn't go, be thrown in jail as a deserter and shamed for the rest of his life.

But at least you'll be alive! She'd shouted at his back as he walked out the door. He wandered the empty streets for a while before winding up here, not knowing where else to go and feeling like a damn fool. Of course, she'd come looking for him, found him here eventually. Frank, the old barkeep and a friend of his father's, took pity on the young couple and left them alone with a handful of change for the ancient jukebox in the corner, and they'd spent their last few hours together slow dancing to the oldies until dawn. This was the last place he'd held her, the last place he'd heard her voice.

"Okay Frank, I get it…" Bishop said eventually, nursing his drink. "I'm dead, right? So this is heaven? Hell? Purgatory?"

The old man looked up at him with a twinkle in his eye. "Well, that depends, young fella. It's up to you."

"Up to me?" Bishop snorted. "That's… not really how death works."

"Oh, and you'd know, would you?"

"Yes I bloody well would. I've seen enough of it," he snapped. He was losing patience with whatever… this was. A dream? Hallucination? "Guess I can go back and tell my buddies that they could've just chosen to not to die after they all got shot and blown up, huh?"

"Young man." The barkeep's voice took a serious tone that caught Bishop's attention. "…You're in a hospital bed, barely clinging to life. If you want out, all you have to do is let go."

Bishop nodded slowly. "Alright. How do I do that?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

The old man cracked a small smile and cocked his head to the side, bringing Bishop's attention to someone who'd suddenly occupied the seat next to him.

"Ask her."

He was staring into a pair of blue eyes, the bluest eyes he'd ever seen, for what felt like an eternity. Then, before he could say a word, her lips were on his, and everything was alright.

"…Buy you a drink, soldier?" She murmured as she eventually pulled away, looking up at him with a tiny smile.

He was too flabbergasted to respond for a moment, before suddenly wrapping his wife in a tearful embrace, afraid she'd disappear if he let her go.

"Oh my god, Annie!" he bawled shamelessly, all his guards dropping at once. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Robbie!" She exclaimed, gently pushing him back to look into his tear-reddened eyes. "It's okay! You don't have to apologize."

"Yes I do! You were right, I never should have left. I should have been there! I… I could have protected you."

She shook her head gently. "There was nothing you could have done."

His lip quivered as old wounds were reopened. "B-but, If I'd have walked a little faster, If I didn't stop for coffee…"

"Then you'd be dead too, you stubborn ass." She kissed him again before he could stammer out a protest. "You kept your promise to me. You promised we'd see eachother again, and we did, even if only for a little while. So no more apologies, okay? We don't have much time, there's no use wasting it saying sorry."

He nodded helplessly. She always had a way of reducing him to a babbling fool. "…Okay." He took a deep breath as he regained some of his senses, smiling like an idiot as he took in the sight of her. She looked just like she had that night, cheeks slightly flushed from the autumn chill outside, auburn hair messy and unkempt from the wind and yet perfect in its own way. Even the intoxicating scent of her perfume was just as he remembered it. "…I thought you loved my stubbornness."

She clucked her tongue in mock reproach. "I loved you despite your stubbornness, you foolish boy." She took of hold of his hand, her voice becoming serious. "…I loved you because you were warm and selfless underneath all your bluster, and you still are despite everything. And that's why you have to keep fighting. That's why you can't let go of this world. Not yet."

"…Oh." So that's what this was about. "But I'm so… I'm so tired, Annie. I just don't think I have it in me anymore. I've seen too much, done too much, and I don't think I'm strong enough to do it anymore. Not without you."

"You've gotten this far without me, haven't you? You've made a name for yourself, thousands of people look up to you as hero. Not only that, but you've got people counting on you, people you care for and who care about you, even if you can't admit it." He felt his cheeks smart in shame and looked down at the floor, but she grabbed his chin and forced him to meet her eyes as she went on.

"…I'm gone, Robbie, and I'm sorry I had to go, but you need to accept that. I want you to get on with your life, I want you to be happy. Didn't you say you'd want the same thing for me if you'd gotten yourself killed and left me a widow? Remember that letter you wrote me?"

He let out a long breath. "Yeah… I remember. Sorry about that, by the way."

She glared up at him. "I thought I said no more apologies. And you should be sorry. I cried for weeks! How could you let me think you where dead?"

"Hey, I had a bullet in my chest, I thought I was dying!" He said defensively. He remembered pressing the letter into the medic's hand, making him promise to mail it. "By the time I woke up in in the hospital, It was already on the way."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." She reached into her pocket and withdrew a well-worn envelope, pressing it into his hand. "…It was a very sweet letter, though. You old romantic, you."

He blushed and rubbed the back of his head as he briefly inspected the envelope. He'd kept in the breast pocket of his uniform his entire time in combat, and the bullet that nearly killed him had punched a neat hole through it on the way into him. He remembered it being stained with fresh blood when last he saw it. The bloodstains on this envelope, however, had long since dried and faded to a light brown color.

"Well I uh, I never thought anyone would read it. Not while I was alive, anyways," he said bashfully as he pocketed the letter with a shrug.

"And the man who wrote that letter," she pressed on through his embarrassment. "…The man I fell in love with, would never abandon the people he cares about, and that's what you'd be doing by letting go right now."

He sighed wearily. "Look sweetheart, I get what you're saying, but… I'm not the man you fell in love with. Not anymore. I killed people, a lot of them, and-"

"Yes you are." She cut him off flatly. "Don't give me that Excuse. The whole world was at war, and a lot of people with far more blood on their hands than you are sleeping like babies right now. But you don't, do you? You have nightmares every night, you see faces when you close your eyes. Why do you think that is?"

"Because I'm weak."

She shook her head. "No. It's because you're good, because deep down you're still that sweet boy I fell in love with. You want to atone for what you did, and you'll never find peace until you do."

"Of course I want to, but… How? Should I become a monk or something?"

"That's.. Not quite what I had in mind." She paused, taking him by the hand to gently lead him over to the window. Through the dense grey fog outside, three silhouettes appeared. "…If you want to atone for the lives you've taken, maybe you can start by helping some new lives make their way in the world."

"Hmph. You sound just like Katsuragi."

"Well, she's right. Just wish that purple-haired harpy would keep her claws to herself."

"…Are you jealous?" He looked at his wife with a smirk. "We're just friends. Anyways, don't you think playing substitute dad for somebody else's kids is asking a bit much?"

"I know it is, and it won't be easy, but think of it this way. What if our son was in their position?" She asked pointedly. "Wouldn't you want someone to be there for him, to guide and protect him if we couldn't?"

He didn't answer for a while. He hadn't thought about the son he'd lost in many years. He'd about the same age as the Eva pilots by now if he'd lived.

"…Yeah, I guess I would." He took her into another embrace. "You're right. You were always right."

"And don't you forget it, mister. Now promise me you're gonna be there for those kids. You're being given another chance, promise me you won't waste it."

"I promise." He meant it. "…I promise."

Bishop could see the edges of the room begin to get fuzzy, felt his head start to swim. That could only mean their time together was coming to an end.

"What's wrong?" She asked gently, looking up to see tears welling in his eyes.

"You won't be there, will you?" he asked forlornly. "When I wake up."

She smiled sadly. "No, no I won't. You know that."

"B-but, there's so much I have left to ask you, so much I have to say, I-"

"Shush. You don't need to say a thing." She gently put a finger on his lips. "Do you remember that last song we danced to that night, just as the sun started to come up?"

He furrowed his brow in thought. "…Yeah, I think so. It was Vera Lynn singing 'We'll meet again', wasn't it?" He looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. "...A little on the nose, don't you think?"

"Shush." She simply nodded and laid her head against his chest. As if by magic, the ancient jukebox came to life and started playing their song. He idly wondered why Frank's jukebox was full of music that his grandparents would have considered old fashioned, but he supposed it didn't matter. Dated and corny though it may have been, it was perfect. Nothing more needed to be said as the music swirled and everything around the gently swaying couple slowly faded into nothingness.

We'll meet again,
Don't know where
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day.

Taking a long sip of coffee, Ritsuko Akagi briefly studied the medical chart in her lap, before returning her attention to the poor wretch lying on the hospital bed. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him, even if she didn't particularly like the man. It would be a hard adjustment when or if he woke up; he would never be the same person he was before. No more cocky, confident stride. No more tall, strong, larger-than-life hero.

She frowned as she recalled the few occasions they'd met. Despite having little in common, she couldn't help but recall feeling… something towards him. He was a handsome devil to be sure, even now, and that aura of confidence and command he carried reminded her of…

I can certainly pick 'em, can't I, she thought with a smirk, before checking some of the readouts on the medical equipment scattered all around and making a few notes on the chart. She was no medical doctor, but an acquaintance at Tokyo-3 general had gotten in touch with her to ask for her opinion on a case. She normally wouldn't come within a mile of this disease factory, but once she heard the details her professional curiosity was piqued.

Focused on her notes, she didn't notice when her subject stirred, or when his bloodshot eyes shot open and darted around the room. She only looked up at the alarmed grunt that came when he noticed her.

"…Sorry doc," he croaked when he saw her jump in surprise. "You're, uh, not who I was expecting to see."

She shook her head as she recovered from the shock and fixed him with an inquisitive gaze. "…And who were you expecting to see."

He didn't answer for a moment, his face belying a mix of confusion and disappointment. "I… I guess I don't really know."

"Mhmm," she replied evenly, making a note on her chart. "And how to do you feel?"

"Just wonderful, thanks."

"Can you be a little more specific?"

He grimaced and stared up at the ceiling. "Sure. I'm tired, my head is pounding, I can't breathe through my nose, It feels like there's a knife in my chest, and my legs feel like they've been beaten with hammers."

"…Your legs?" Ritsuko raised an eyebrow. "What part of your legs?"

"I dunno. All of them I guess. Why?"

She sighed heavily. Where were those damn nurses when you needed them? Breaking this sort of news was their job, not hers. Reaching over, she held down a button on the side of the bed, and waited as the stricken pilot's torso was slowly lifted to the point where he could raise his head and look down.

"…Oh," was all he said. Ritsuko wanted nothing more than to get the data she needed and get out this godforsaken place, but now she was trapped, with no idea what to say to someone who's just found out they'd never walk again on their own legs. The man's face was a mask, giving her no clues as to what he might be feeling.

Before she could think of something to say, the major broke the silence. "…Well isn't that the damnedest thing," he said calmly. "I could swear I'm wiggling my toes right now."

"Uh yes, that's called phantom limb syndrome, It's quite common in cases such as this." Ritsuko spoke matter-of-factly, relieved she didn't have to pretend to try and comfort a distraught patient. "Amputees often report feeling tingling or pain in their missing limbs for weeks or months after the operation."

"Interesting." Ritsuko thought she caught a tiny quivering of his bottom lip as he spoke, and decided to swiftly press on to business.

"Indeed. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

He looked over at her, his demeanor wooden. "I guess… Say, why are you even here? I didn't think you were that kind of doctor."

"I'm not," she answered bluntly. "I'm here because… Well, the doctors here frankly can't figure out why you're still alive. With the amount of trauma your body sustained, the amount of blood you lost… medically speaking, you should be dead."

"Yeah, maybe I should."

She could see then that he was barely holding it together. Better be quick, no doubt the dam was about to burst. "Anyways, that's why they called me. One of my doctorates is in the field of metaphysical biology."

"Metaphysical?" He again tilted his head to look at her quizzically. "…You mean like ghosts?"

She growled in irritation, fighting down the urge to scold him. "No, not 'like ghosts.' I specialize in the aspects of biology that go… beyond the physical, phenomena that cannot be explained by traditional science or medicine."

"Uh huh." That seemed to amuse him. At least she was taking his mind off his legs. "So what, you're some kind of witch doctor, then? Gonna exorcise my demons?"

"I can assure you, major, that what I do is very real. The Evangelion project, for example, is the culmination of decades…" She stopped herself short of saying anything more. "Look, I'm not gonna sit here and explain my entire life's work to you, but suffice to say there are forces at work in our world far beyond what we used to believe existed, and from what I've seen in your charts, I think those forces may have played some role in your surviving these injuries."

"Really…" he said dubiously.

"Yes really. And anything you can tell me, anything at all that you remember from the time when you first lost consciousness to the time you woke up here could prove invaluable to my research."

The man fell silent for a while as he thought about it. "Well…" he said eventually, "I don't remember much, mostly I was just sort of floating around in nothingness, but…"

"Yes?" she prompted him, opening a notebook and holding a pen ready.

"But…yeah that's right, I seem to recall having these really vivid… dreams, I guess you'd call them, but they didn't feel like dreams. I don't remember all the details, but it felt… real, like I was actually there and completely lucid. I could reach out and touch things, eat food and actually taste it, if that makes sense."

"Interesting." She scribbled it all down in her book. "Do you remember where you were exactly?"

He furrowed his brow in concentration. "No, sorry. But I do remember having conversations with people I knew who've been dead for years. They were just like I remembered them down to the last detail, except they knew about things that happened after they died."

She jotted that down as well, making sure to underline it for emphasis. "Conversations with dead acquaintances… Fascinating! Must have been nice seeing them again."

"It certainly was, so you imagine how thrilled I am to wake up in this… Where am I, exactly?"

"The intensive care ward at Tokyo-3 general hospital, room 1204 to be precise, and you've been here for about a week." she said distractedly, still busily scribbling in her notebook. "…I think I have all I need for now, I'll-"

Before she could finish the thought and make her escape, the door to the room slid open, and a beaming, bespectacled face pushed its way through.

"Would you look at that, my favorite patient is finally awake!" the woman announced in a cloying tone that made Ritsuko's stomach turn as she bustled into the room. She was about her own height and age, with brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.

"Good morning, Doctor Mori." Ritsuko greeted the irritatingly cheerful woman coolly, shutting her notebook and starting to gather her things. The two were classmates from college, and despite the scientist's bests efforts to avoid her, Mori seemed to have an uncanny ability to be able to stay in touch. "Thank you for allowing me to question your patient."

"Oh, it's no trouble, was it Mister Bishop?" She waved a dismissive hand as she approached the major's bed, running a quick eye over his chart. Ritsuko couldn't help but crack a smile as Bishop grit his teeth in irritation at being spoken to like a child. It seemed they at least shared a distaste for the world's cock-eyed optimists.

"And how are we feeling today? Better, I'll bet!" The doctor cut off whatever acidic reply was coming by grabbing her patient's chin to examine his face. "That broken nose is healing up nicely, though it'll be a bit crooked. You'll look like a boxer. Cool, huh?"

"Yeah, whatever," the major grunted."…What abou- OW!" He yelped as the doctor prodded his bandaged chest.

"Hm. Ribs are still pretty tender, huh? No surprise, you broke three of 'em, you know."

"Yes I bloody well know, I was there!" he snapped irritably "Now would you kindly tell me what the hell happened to my legs?"

Completely unperturbed by his anger, the doctor calmly lifted the blanket covering his lower half to inspect the surgeons' handiwork.

"Well, I don't know where they are, but they're not here!"

If looks could kill, the glare Bishop shot the doctor would have been positively lethal, and she cleared her throat nervously as she went on. "…The paramedics had to do a field amputation, or I guess two of them, in order to free you from the wreckage of your plane. There was no other way. However, it's not all bad news. They managed to cut just below the knee on both legs, and they left enough tissue for the surgeons to make a pair of nice, clean stumps."

Ritsuko saw him grimace at that word. She probably would have too, in his position.

"What all that means," Mori went on, never losing her cheerful tone. "Is there's a very good chance you could learn to walk again on artificial limbs. It'll take a little luck and lot of hard work, but because you still have both knees, I think it's doable."

The major nodded numbly. "…And the alternative is a wheelchair for the rest of my life."

"Correct." She beamed at him. "So don't look so glum! You were circling the drain for a while there, consider yourself lucky to be alive."

"Lucky… to be alive." He spoke the words from between gritted teeth, anger gathering dark on his brow as his furious eyes turned on the doctor. "And what kind of life do I have to look forward to?"

"Why, a great life, I'm sur-"

"Shut up!" Mori's smile just seemed to make him angrier, his voice deepening to a growl as a torrent of pent-up fear and frustration was suddenly directed her way. Ritsuko was frozen in place, her instincts screaming at her to leave, but not wanting to draw attention to herself by moving.

"Shut the hell up! I could give a shit about walking. The Air force is gonna discharge me as soon as they find out about this. You think they'll let a fucking cripple fly?" There was no stopping him now, and Mori just directed her eyes to the floor, accepting his anger. "It's the only thing I was ever good for! I've never been anything but a pilot, I've got no education to fall back on, and I can't even do manual labor because, in case you haven't noticed, I've got no GODDAMN LEGS!"

It was only the pain in his chest that put an end to his tirade, that and a nurse who poked her head in to scold him for disturbing the other patients with his shouting. The rant took his last bit of strength, and the man flopped back on the bed with his breath coming in wheezing gasps, seeming to deflate in the deafening silence that followed.

"I'm sorry, doc." He muttered eventually. "I know it's not your fault, but you'll forgive me If I'm not jumping for joy."

Mori nodded solemnly. It seemed even her cheerfulness had reached its limits. "Of course, major. I understand. Everyone processes this sort of thing differently." She looked across to Ritsuko and cocked her head toward the door. "We'll leave you alone for a while. Just press the on call button if you need anything."

Ritsuko followed her old classmate towards the door, impressed with how she'd handled the outburst. She wasn't sure she could have taken it without hitting back, even against someone in such a sorry state, physically and emotionally.

"…Thanks for the information major." She paused in the doorway and turned to say goodbye. "…I have some tests to run on data that was collected while you were unconscious. If that yields anything interesting, and based on what you've told me, I'll likely be able to convince my superiors to have you transferred down to the geofront medical facility for more testing."

"Neat." He sounded utterly disinterested.

"It would mean you'd be treated using the most advanced medical technology in the world, and you'd get the best prosthetics money can buy. I'll get back to you soon."

"…I'll be here. Not like I can go anywhere."

The days all seemed to run together. Bishop spent most of his time in a restless sleep, and when he was awake he found himself wallowing in a quagmire of misery and self-pity that he couldn't lift himself out of no matter how hard he tried.

What now? Was the question that repeated over and over again in his head. What the hell do I do now?

Back home, there were charities that tried to help the many thousands of boys who'd lost arms and legs in the service of their country. God knows the government wouldn't lift a finger to do so. He supposed he at least wouldn't starve on their account, though the thought of scraping by off the pity of strangers and his pittance of a pension didn't exactly thrill him. May as well be dead at that point, better than joining the ranks of the 'wheelchair warriors' who could be found outside legion halls and VA offices across the country. A grateful nation could never repay them for what they gave, so they didn't bother trying, preferring to avert their eyes as they passed them in the street.

By way of trying to take his mind off of an uncertain future, he occupied some of his waking hours trying in vain to remember the dreams he'd mentioned to Dr. Akagi. He could recall bits and pieces if he really focused, but for the most part it was like watching a movie being played on an out-of-focus projector. He could tell that something happened, that something had been said, and he knew it was important that he remember what. But not being able to do so only led to more frustration, more anger with himself and everything around him. The doctors and nurses who tended to him treated him gingerly, like some sort of bomb that could go off at any second after his tirade that first day, and he supposed he deserved as much.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been here when he awoke one afternoon from yet another fitful nap to find Shinji's wide eyes staring down at him. Maybe a week, maybe more. He didn't get any visitors in that time, and figured he'd probably been written off by NERV.

"Oh. H-hello, sir." The boy greeted him nervously as Bishop blearily rubbed his eyes sat up with some effort.

"Hiya kid. Nice of you to come see me." He tried to flash the boy his usual easy smile, but his heart wasn't in it.

"Oh, y-yeah. Toji's here visiting his sister, and I thought I'd come with." He sat gingerly in one of the chairs beside the bed. "H-how are you feeling?"

He bit back a sarcastic reply to the stupid question he'd heard a million times by now, remembering who he was speaking to. "…Fine, I guess." He said simply instead.

"Oh. That's good." Shinji awkwardly fiddled with his hands for a moment, clearly wanting to say something but stopping himself.

"…Something on your mind?" Bishop asked eventually.

The boy nodded slowly, before looking up with eyes filled with guilt. "…I'm, I-I'm sorry!" he burst out to the pilot's surprise. "I'm sorry that you lost your legs sir! It's all my fault, if I'd been thinking clearly, we could've used the Evas to-"

"What? Try to pull me out of the wreckage?" He couldn't help but chuckle. "Trust me kid, my legs were good and stuck, you'd have ripped me in half if you tried it. No, you've got nothing to apologize for, except maybe for saving my life again."

"What do you mean by-"

"Never mind." Bishop cut himself off quickly. He didn't need to depress the boy any further with his troubles. "You've got to stop second guessing your decisions, kid. You kept your nerve when most people wouldn't have and did the best you could in a bad situation, and that's something to be proud of, alright? No more apologies."

Shinji opened his mouth to protest, or maybe to apologize for something else, but instead the boy just nodded and wiped his eyes. "…Yes, sir."

"Good man. Now don't you worry about me, doctor says I'll be walking around on my new tin legs in no time."

The truth was that he'd been resistant to the idea of artificial limbs, even though the doctors said he would be strong enough within a few days to begin the extensive physical therapy necessary to use them. What the hell was the point, he figured. He'd still be half a man regardless of whether he could lumber around like the tin man from the wizard of oz, so why endure all that misery? Still, something about having the boy around made him feel the need to put on a brave face and be strong, even when he wasn't. He knew he'd want Shinji to be strong if the positions were swapped, and he had to set an example, he reminded himself.

"…Will you be able to fly?" the boy asked after a long silence. "Y-y'know, with tin legs?"

Bishop shook his head gently. "No, I don't think so. You need to feet to be able to work the rudder pedals and brakes, and you need to be in excellent shape to fly a fighter. Don't think I'll ever be as strong as I was again."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I-I know how much it meant to y-"

"What did I say about apologizing for stuff that isn't your fault?" The pilot wasn't terribly interested in playing out his line of questioning.

"Yeah, he's always doing that. What an idiot."

Both of them gave a shout of surprise at Asuka's voice, turning their heads to find the girl leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Asuka!" Shinji spoke first. "How long have you been standing there? D-did you follow me here?"

The girl rolled her eyes as she entered the room with a flourish. "Long enough to feel sorry for both of you." She was wearing the same yellow dress she had been when Bishop first met her, he noted. "And don't flatter yourself, third child. Misato dragged me along with her, she'll be here in any minute."

Bishop nodded slowly. He wasn't sure he wanted to face her. She'd probably tell him that NERV had no more use for him, that he was being sent home.

"So, you're still alive, huh?" the girl said haughtily as she approached the bed. "Hope you know who you have to thank for that."

"Sure I do." Bishop cracked a small smile. "The paramedics, the doctors, the nurses, the good people at Avro Canada, Shinji of course…"

"No, you jerk, look!" She proudly showed him the tiny round bandage on her forearm.

"…What, did you get a shot or something?"

"Nuh-uh." She beamed smugly down at him. "You have O-negative blood. Know what that means?"

"Of course. I can only receive blood of the same type."

"That's right. I just so happen to have it too, and the paramedics needed a whole lot of it while they were sawing your legs off."

Bishop was flabbergasted. "…Really, you donated blood? To me?"

"That's right, two whole pints. They said you'd have never made it to the hospital without it." She frowned down at him. "Wait a minute, why does that surprise you so much?"

Two pints of Soryu. Must be why I've been so damn moody lately. The pilot could only shrug. "…I dunno, doesn't seem like something you'd do."

She scoffed, turning away with her arms crossed. "…Well I'll have you know that I'm a very giving and generous person. Isn't that right, Shinji?"

It warmed Bishop's heart to see the boy crack a smile and chuckle. "Yeah, right. Y-you should have seen how squeamish she was, she almost passed out when they put the needle in."

Asuka turned beet-red while the two boys had a laugh a laugh at her expense. "Oh come on, Soryu, we're just poking fun." He tried to calm the girl as she sputtered indignantly at Shinji. "Life gets a lot easier if you learn to laugh at yourself. And thank you, really."

With a pout, she whirled on him and stomped over to the bed, bending down to give him a hard poke in the chest that made him wince. "…Yeah, well, you owe me, old man. Big time."

"Would you stop calling me 'old man'? I'm thirty two." He made a show of rubbing the spot she'd poked.

"Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it? Kick me?" She challenged him with a mischievous smile.

"No but…" He leaned forward as though he were about to divulge some secret to her, beckoning her to come closer to hear it. When she leaned in slightly, he deftly reached up and flicked her earlobe.

"Ow!" She jumped back and seemed about to attack him, but then stopped, a tiny smile crossing her face before she could stop herself. "…Not bad, flyboy. You're pretty quick, for an old man."

"Well I didn't luck my way into becoming an ace, little girl." he said with a chuckle. "Look at you, you've finally learned to take a joke. Doesn't that feel better than being angry all the time?"

He supposed, as the girl turned away without answering him, that he ought to take his own advice. Being a bitter son of a bitch and lashing out at people who were just trying to help him wouldn't make his legs grow back.

"Hmph. Well, I'm going to see if there's something to eat in this dump." Asuka started towards the door, and Bishop caught a flash of a decidedly unsure expression on her face as she did so. "…Misato's probably lost again, I'll tell her where to find you if I see her. C'mon, third child." She gestured impatiently for Shinji to follow her as she made her exit. The boy grinned sheepishly at the pilot as he stood to follow her.

"Uh, g-goodbye, sir. I'll come visit you again soon. I promise."

Something about those last two words jogged something in Bishop's mind. As he watched Shinji leave, some small part of the fog seemed to lift, and he remembered speaking those words. To her.

He wanted nothing more than to think on it for a while, but he'd get no such luxury. A few minutes later, Katsuragi came hurrying into the room, dragging what appeared to be his duffle bag behind her.

"Hiya major!" Misato said breathlessly as she hefted the heavy green bag up onto one of the chairs beside the hospital bed. She turned to look at him, trying not to let the dismay show on her face. The narrow brush with death had taken its toll. Aside from the obvious missing legs, he seemed thinner, frailer somehow, with gaunt features and dark bags under his eyes. Hard to believe this was the same strong, proud man who she'd come to call a friend.

"…You look good," she said after a moment, trying to inject some levity into the heavy atmosphere. "Have you lost weight?"

"Bite me."

"Hm." She ignored the testy reply and looked around the room. "…Say, where'd Asuka go? She said she'd meet me here."

"She got bored waiting for you and left. Shinji's around here somewhere too."

The woman rubbed the back of her head in embarrassment. "Oh, yeah. I wound up on the wrong floor and got lost. Sorry."

"Imagine my shock." The major wasn't paying much attention to her, staring up at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts. She couldn't help but be annoyed by it.

"Hey!" She exclaimed. "I was nice enough to take time out of my busy day to come visit you! This is the first time I've been able to get away from headquarters since the battle, the least you could do is give me a friendly hello…"

"Hm?" His eyes shifted briefly over to her. "Oh. Sorry, just a little tired is all."

Misato sighed. "…It's alright. How are y-"

"Before you continue, you should know that I'm planning to strangle the next person who asks me how I'm feeling."

"…Noted."

"Good." Even in his present state, he clearly still had some of his pride. "So ,what's the good word? You sending my crippled butt home?"

Misato looked down at him and shook her head with a smile. "…Of course not. Why would I do that?"

He shrugged and answered evenly. "Can't fly. I'm no use to you anymore."

"Ha, nice try, mister. You're not getting out of here that easily. The aerial operations section is your brainchild, you're the only one who knows how to run it, and as long as it's still useful to me then so are you." She sat beside the bed and put a hand on his shoulder. "…Really, you must not think very much of me if you assume I'd just toss you aside after all we've been through." She chuckled at the tinge of colour that appeared in the pilot's cheeks. "…Plus your pilots all came storming into my office the other day and threatened to start a mutiny if you weren't allowed to keep command. Don't worry, you'll still have a job when you get out of here, only difference is you'll have to do a lot more delegating from behind your desk than you did before."

The major nodded slowly, his face a mask that didn't betray any emotion. "…Ironic, huh? The whole reason I came here in the first place was to get away from a miserable desk job and fly again."

Misato couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy, as well as a torrent of guilt. "…I know, and I'm sorry I dragged you into this mess. I-I suppose on some level, I'm responsible…"

"Stop it. I'm sick to death of apologies, and I don't want your damn pity." For a brief moment, Bishop seemed to recover some of his old vitality, managing to sit up slightly to look her in the eye. "I'm a big boy, Katsuragi, the decision to come here and the decision to fly that day were mine and mine alone. And for what it's worth, I don't regret either of them."

She smiled at seeing some of the fire return to his eyes, and she couldn't help but lean in over and give his hand a squeeze. "…I'm glad you're okay, big guy. I really am."

"Heh, If you can call this okay." He gave her a weak smile, before his eyes settled on the seat next to her. "…So, what's with the bag?"

"Oh, that!" She looked down at the green duffle she'd dragged through half the damn hospital. "…I, uh, thought you might want some things. Clothes and such."

"So you brought my entire duffle bag?" He gave her a confused look. "…I appreciate the thought, but all I need is a uniform or two."

"Yeah, well I didn't have time to go through your stuff and pick out an outfit. Oh, I also emptied your mailbox. Figured it might help you pass the time." She reached into her jacket and handed him a sheaf of envelopes, hoping he wouldn't notice the open one. Of course, he immediately did, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Mhmm. But you did have time to read my mail, I see…"

She raised her hands in surrender. "Hey, that was already open. There's another envelope inside, and I didn't open that. I swear."

He didn't answer as he withdrew the second envelope, recognition immediately crossing his face. The paper was yellowed with age, with a neat round hole through it ringed with a brown stain, and singed around the edges as though it had been through a fire. Misato couldn't deny that she'd burned with curiosity ever since she first saw the strange envelope, but true to her word she'd managed to resist the temptation to open it or read the note taped to it.

"…Well, what is it?" She asked impatiently as he read the note, his eyes widening to saucers.

He said nothing, tearing off the note and handing it to her as he gingerly peeled away the tape keeping the envelope shut. She eagerly snatched it up and started to read it. It was in English, and the handwriting was messy, so it took all her concentration.

Dear Major Bishop, it read.

My name is Kate Harding. You may not remember me, but we crossed paths briefly about 15 years ago. You were in the army then, and I was a volunteer firefighter. It was during that first air raid against the refineries, I'm sure you remember the one. My crew was trying to find survivors in the rubble, when you showed up out of the blue and started digging through it like a madman. I still remember that moment when you found your wife, it's something that's haunted me ever since. I'm so sorry we couldn't save her. I lost my husband to the war and I know how much it hurts, so please accept my condolences, late as they may be. I don't want to open any old wounds, but you disappeared that night before we could give you any of the effects we found in the rubble, or maybe you didn't want them.

I found this letter in a drawer along with some other valuables, jewelry and such. It's all still in a safety deposit box at a bank here in town if you care, but for some reason I read the letter before the others could see, and I was so touched by it that I pocketed it without thinking. I hope you'll forgive me. I forgot about it for years after that, and I never made the connection that you were the famous Bobby Bishop until a few weeks ago, when the old fire crew got together for a reunion and one of the guys mentioned that the poor young soldier we ran into that night went on to become the ace of aces. Who would have thought?

Sorry, I know I'm rambling, but suffice to say that I got this feeling I can't explain, like a little voice telling me that it was very important this letter make it back to you. I started trying to track you down, only to be told you'd moved to Japan. It took awhile, but I finally came across an address associated with your name in some place called Tokyo-3, so that's where I'm sending it. I hope this letter winds up in your hands, and if not, would whoever opens this please ensure that it's forwarded to Major Robert Bishop of the RCAF by any means possible. Please send me a note letting me know you received it, Robert. It would really put my mind at ease. My return address is on the envelope.

Yours truly,
Katherine Harding.

"Wow, must be some letter. Lemme see!" Misato demanded when she'd finished reading, looking up at the major when there was no response. Anything she was about to say caught in her throat when she saw tears pouring down his cheeks, his eyes utterly transfixed on the ragged piece of paper in his hands.

"I… I remember." He said quietly. "I remember everything, Annie. I remember now."

"You remember? What do you remember?" Misato asked, wondering if he'd finally lost his mind. "…Who's Annie?"

His eyes briefly flitted over to her, and he quickly wiped away the tears before turning them back to the letter.

"It's nothing." He said softly. "…I just remembered a promise I made to someone. A promise I'm gonna keep."

A/N Managed to get this chapter written pretty quick, didn't want to keep folks waiting after the last one. Our hero lives to fight another day, a little shorter than before, but having hopefully gained a bit of perspective. Can't promise the next chapter will come as quickly as this one, but come it will eventually. As always, thanks for reading!