Who is he by voice immortal named from Pythia's rocky cell,
Doer of foul deeds of bloodshed, horrors that no tongue can cell?
A foot for flight he needs
Fleeter than storm-swift steeds,
For on his heels doth follow,
Armed with the lightnings of his Sire, Apollo.
Like sleuth-hounds too
The Fates pursue.

- Sophocles, Oedipus the King

Chapter Nine: Interest On Desperation

"Father," whispered Shinji. "How could you do this?" Closing his eyes, he tried to calm himself down, tried to stop the shaking.

"Shinji?" prompted Misato. "What is it?"

How could he? Why did he have to go through Rei, who wouldn't disobey him or talk back? Why not talk to me directly? Is he that much of a coward? Cracking his eyes back open, he regarded his phone, vaguely realizing he was trying to crush it. Pulverize it, like it was a man, not a phone.

"Shinji?"

How could you, Father? Rei is... everything. I'll fall apart without her. Is that what you want? Two pilots who can't get out of the fucking bed in the morning? Or three? I... I hate you!

Screaming, he twisted, hurling the phone with all his strength at the apartment door. It struck with a resounding thump, shattering into a thousand little pieces of plastic and metal; Shinji stared after it, breathing heavily. I hate you.

As he watched, the door abruptly opened of its own power, revealing a startled-looking Asuka. Blue eyes dropped to the floor, to the mess of phone debris scattered there, before rising back up to Shinji. "What the hell is your problem?"

Ignoring her, he shifted his gaze to his hands. Rei. What am I going to do without her? I can't do this all by myself.

The silence stretched, and eventually Misato cleared her throat. "Asuka, I thought you were at Hikari's place." A note of question colored her voice.

"I was," came the sarcastic response, "but then Touji called saying he was getting out of the hospital, and then Hikari was all shrieking that she had to go see him and help him home. So I'll probably be here for a while. Not that any of you care."

What am I going to do? Shinji closed his eyes, staggering sideways into the wall.

"What's with him?" continued Asuka, her voice cold, bored.

"Rei," he managed, letting his head thump against the wall. "Rei broke up with me."

Asuka snorted, and he could feel her approach. "You don't say?" she murmured. "What happened? You ran out of cash to pay for the tricks?"

Something cold stirred in him, cracks forming over frozen water. He opened his eyes to see his roommate less than a pace away. "No," he answered, surprised at how quiet his voice came out. "The Commander ordered her to do it."

Asuka blinked at him, then laughed, slapping hands on her thighs as she doubled over. "Oh, that's rich. Who the hell dumps their boyfriend because someone told them to? What did I tell you, Shinji? I always said she was a--"

He didn't let her finish. Snarling, he reached out with his left hand, grabbing her shirt near the neck, and pushed. Pushed so she had to back up to avoid falling, pushed until the kitchen table bumped against her back, pushed until she was leaning back over it at an awkward angle. His right fist had curled itself into a fist and now hovered trembling in front of his chest. "Don't," he implored in a cracked whisper. "Please don't call her that." Tears blurred his vision.

Her expression, at any other time, would have been a comical mixture; shock combined with naked injury made her mouth as round as her startled eyes, wide blue eyes that blinked back at him, pupils dilated in fear. Or rage. Or both.

Quickly, however, those eyes narrowed dangerously and she heaved against him, sending him stumbling back. A red blur streaked towards the bedrooms, and almost instantly a door slammed loudly.

Groaning, Shinji leaned against the wall and let himself slide to the floor. "I'm sorry," he whispered at no one in particular. "I'm sorry."

Flesh whispered softly against flesh as Misato approached. Gentle hands gripped his shoulders. "Shinji, look at me."

Numbly he complied, gazing up at the woman helplessly. "I didn't mean to do that," he explained weakly. "I didn't... she just... I got so mad..."

Misato shook her head faintly, dark hair swaying. "Shinji, look. For what it's worth, I knew about you two the whole time, or near enough. I never said anything, though, because I could see how happy she made you."

He nodded blankly. "She does," he whispered. "Did. I... I need her."

Her hands tightened slightly on his shoulders. "I know. So if you need any help, or need anyone to talk to or anything... I'm here. Okay?"

Nodding again, he slumped, letting his head sag. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Okay," acknowledged Misato. "I'll... see about getting you a new phone. Just take it easy for now, alright?"

"Yes."

She ruffled his hair playfully, then stood. Quiet footsteps carried her to the kitchen, where the sounds that followed suggested she was preparing some instant noodles.

Wearily Shinji rose as well, pushing himself up onto leaden legs and shuffling into his room. He had some thinking to do.

As a weeping Rei vanished out of sight, cell phone clutched to her chest, Subcommander Fuyutsuki sighed. Never, in all the girl's life, had he seen her so upset. After a moment he shook his head, turning to the younger man seated next to where he stood. "Are you certain that was a good idea, Gendo?"

Ikari snorted, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "You know the plan as well as I do," he answered flatly. "Do you want to risk it all for a crush?"

A crush? wondered Kouzou doubtfully. You think that was just some whim of hers? "You have never hurt her so badly before," he observed carefully.

"She is a teenaged girl," countered the Commander. "She will recover."

A teenaged girl who thinks deeply. Swinging his gaze back to the distant doors, Kouzou suppressed the urge to sigh again. "I suppose... I suppose it was a lose-lose situation the moment they got together," he mused.

Gendo nodded once. "You are correct about that, old friend."

He pursed his lips. "Have you thought about what happens next?"

"There is no 'next.' There is only the Angels and the plan."

Kouzou chuckled humorlessly. "Shinji can be a hothead, Gendo. He didn't like you much even before this."

"When I am done with him," vowed the Commander, "he will understand. He will agree with me."

"Of course."

The distance from NERV to Rei's apartment was not far -- that was part of why she lived where she did -- but her school shoes were not built for running, and her feet hurt. As soon as she reached her place, she slammed the door shut and kicked the offending shoes off.

Hurrying into her room, she paused as her eyes fell on the cracked glasses that had once been the Commander's. Feeling her lips curl away from her teeth, Rei snatched them off the dresser, raising them high above her head with both trembling arms. Then she stood there.

She couldn't do it. Couldn't break them.

Groaning in defeat, she let them clatter back to the dresser and threw herself into her bed. The sheets were still tangled from last night's sleep, from the passion that had preceded it, passion never to be felt again now. They still smelled like him, she realized; the sheets, the pillow, everything smelled like the only warmth in her life, the only light that had kept the crushing shadows of solitude at bay.

Shinji. Tears leaked from her cheeks as she curled into a ball, pulling the sheets over herself like a cocoon, inhaling his scent. She could still hear his voice over the phone, so full of pain. Pain she could soothe, if he were with her, tears she could kiss away, worries she could ease and hopelessness she could comfort. He needs me so much right now.

Convulsively she stretched up, kissing the pillow with trembling lips. Shinji.

Asuka's eyes slid groggily open as she awoke, the darkness in the room telling her it was sometime in the middle of the night. Without moving a muscle she lay there, letting the fog of slumber dissipate, trying to determine what had awoken her, if anything. Nothing seemed out of place in the apartment, nothing moving or making noise.

Sighing, she rolled over onto her side, planning to fall back asleep, but an irritant prevented that. Damn it. The bed's warm; I don't want to leave it. Grimacing, she threw back the covers, slid to her feet on the floor, and made for the bathroom.

Something caught her notice before she reached it, however. Shinji's door was open a few centimeters, as though he'd only gone through the motions of closing it, without bothering to see things through. Furthermore, noise was floating through the opening, an almost-silent rustling, as of clothing or sheets.

Frowning, Asuka put her eye to the gap, trying to keep the rest of her body hidden behind the door. Though the room was dark, illuminated only by the rogue glow of outdoor streetlights, enough bluish light filtered through the windows to paint a monochromatic scene.

Shinji was clearly awake, seated on his bed, apparently still in the clothes he'd been wearing earlier. He was slumped forward, head in his hands, shaking fiercely. This puzzled Asuka briefly until a soft gasp suggested he was actually crying, oblivious to her presence.

Taken aback, she studied him more closely. For some reason she found herself fascinated by how he moved; it was not a gentle trembling, as of lovers in the mood, but a full-fledged shaking, as though someone were shocking him, or he'd just climbed out of Lake Ashi in winter. It was... undignified.

She'd seen him lose control before, of course, heard him shrieking like a banshee as he went berserk -- or his Eva did it for him -- but those times, she reflected, were not like this. When he lost it in a fight, there was something feral in him, something savage, something dangerous and therefore respectable. Noble. Even when he triumphed over her, she could hate him because he was strong.

This shaking Shinji, however, was just... broken. Pitiful. Completely unintimidating. The smoldering remains of a man that had not yet collapsed into final stillness.

As she watched, it occurred to her that she'd never seen him cry before.

Huh, she mused, feeling vaguely guilty. I guess... he seems really torn up. He's really just been sitting there all night crying?

Worrying a lip, she tried to think of a single person she cared enough about to weep over at all, let alone for... four hours, or however long it had been since he'd gone in there. As the silence stretched without a single name popping up, she began to imagine something foreign within the bedroom, radiating from the unaware Shinji. Something... profound, something that stated clearly but without words that she and her prying eyes were not welcome. Her skin began to crawl.

She paused, then closed the door gently, taking care not to make any noise. With a tiny shake of her head, she continued on into the bathroom.

Home, sweet home, sighed Misato as she unlocked the apartment door and shuffled inside. A warm, comforting place, full of my dear, loving adopted children, quiet and... She trailed off a step inside, frowning.

The place was quiet, she realized. Peaceful. Granted, only Asuka was anywhere in evidence, but at least the kids weren't shrieking at one another or worse. The German girl sat on the futon, snacking on dried fruit as she watched television.

Misato's frowned deepened as she glanced around the place. Something was different. The light shining through the deck blinds was brighter, or perhaps the carpet was a lighter shade of...

"It's clean," stated Asuka cryptically, not looking away from the television.

Misato blinked. "What?"

"The apartment," clarified the girl. "It's clean. He cleaned it and just finished... twenty minutes ago, I'd say."

Shrugging, Misato kicked the door fully shut and tossed her beret on its peg. "So? Shinji always cleans."

"Yeah. Not like this." Asuka paused, biting off a chunk of shriveled plum. "He cleaned everything. Took a toothbrush to the kitchen floor, even dusted the futon. Made dinner for all three of us, too; yours is in the fridge, still, with plastic wrap and everything."

"Well, that was nice of him." Shaking her head, Misato opened the refrigerator and rummaged around inside, coming back with tastefully-arranged spring noodles and a diet soda; she'd tried to quit drinking recently, if only for Shinji's sake. The last thing he needed now was a drunk superior officer stumbling around.

Asuka snorted. "Well, he didn't ask if we wanted any of that done; he just went and did it. It was... a little weird," she added in a quieter voice. "A little creepy. He didn't smile or laugh or talk at all. He looked... dead, and moved like a robot."

"That is weird," allowed Misato after a moment. I suppose he's allowed his own way of coping with the breakup, though. At least he's not breaking stuff. "Where is he, anyway?" she wondered, glancing around.

"In bed."

"Bed?" she repeated, glancing back at the window. "It's not even dark out."

"Yeah."

Shrugging, Misato unwrapped the plate Shinji had left her, then stuck it in the microwave. "How was school?" she wondered, mostly to be conversational.

"Stupid," answered Asuka, "like always." She fell silent for a moment, allowing the microwave's hum and the television's inane babbling to fill the gap. "You know, it's dumb I even have to go there," continued the girl angrily. "I already know that crap anyway, and even if I didn't, the teacher's so bad that..."

"Kanji," interrupted Misato. "We both know that you know the material, Asuka. You go there to learn kanji while everyone else learns the other stuff."

"Whatever," sighed the redhead. "Stupid country."

Smirking in the privacy of the kitchen, Misato elected not to reply. Soon the microwave beeped its completion, and she obligingly grabbed the food from within, brought it to the table, and began to eat. Ah, Shinji, she sighed at the first bite. Such a nice boy. Somehow he'd turned simple noodles and vegetables into something beautiful. Or perhaps it just seemed that way in comparison to the vending-machine fare at NERV.

"Kensuke's gone now too," murmured Asuka absently as she watched the television. "Touji's out, but he's still not in school, so it's just Hikari and me. And Shinji and Ayanami," she added, almost as an afterthought. "Those... I think Shinji looked at her once all day, and she didn't look at him at all. They both ate alone."

Misato raised an eyebrow at this, deciding at the last moment not to needle the girl about her apparent concern for Shinji, or at least his presence in her thoughts. Man, that would suck, she decided, blinking at her noodles, to have to be at school and work with your ex. At least Kaji wasn't often around even when he was alive and here.

Thoughts of NERV soon turned to the near future. "There's a sync test tomorrow," she recalled, frowning. That should be... interesting. The Subcommander's probably going to be pissed at the results.

Asuka bristled, sitting up straight on the futon, finally turning from the screen to glare at her. "You think I don't know that?" she demanded. "You think I'm not worried too? Misato, if you tell me one more time to relax and try my best, I swear to God I'm going to kill you."

Sighing, Misato let the girl finish, then shook her head. "I was thinking out loud, Asuka."

The redhead glared at her a moment longer, then grunted, settling back back into a moody silence on the futon. The television chattered away, talking heads reviewing current movies.

Lips twisted, Misato continued eating. There was, if anything, too much food, so eventually she wrapped the remainder up again and threw it back into the refrigerator.

With a frown she stepped into the hallway and shuffled towards the lone closed door. For a moment she hovered there, uncertain, but eventually knocked softly. "Shinji?"

No answer came.

"Shinji?" she repeated, a little more loudly, wondering if he was asleep. "Are you awake?"

Nothing. Silence but for tinny television voices.

Misato sighed, resting a hand against the closed door. "Shinji, I won't barge in there, but if you want to talk, you know where to find me, okay? I'm here tonight."

Briefly she waited there in case he replied, but when he did not, she wandered back to the living room and threw herself into a chair. I'm not very good at this, she decided, rubbing her face tiredly. What does he need?

No answers surfaced. Misato stewed while her charge remained lost in the television. Eventually she rose, muttering, and went to bed.

The next day brought little surprise, as far as the synchronization test was concerned. Asuka glared, Shinji stared blankly at nothing, and Rei sat completely still with her eyes closed. The scores, however, proved to be a different matter.

"Look at this," murmured Ritsuko. "I don't know if this is good news or bad, but Asuka didn't drop as much as last time."

"Good," answered Misato after a moment. "Though there's not much farther for her to drop."

"However," continued the doctor mildly, "Rei is down twenty points."

Misato gaped. "Twenty? Two weeks ago we were thrilled because she'd gone up one."

"That's correct," nodded Ritsuko absently, still scanning the results.

Twenty, sighed Misato. I suppose I know what caused that, at least. "How's Shinji?"

"He's fine."

"No, I mean how is he synchronizing?"

"He's fine," repeated Ritsuko, gesturing at the scrolling figures. "No change at all."

Feeling something almost like fear sink into her belly, Misato approached the other woman to examine the real-time data. "Wow," she murmured, baffled. "You're right." What in the world...? Slowly she turned to the big screen, where Shinji's vacant eyes stared off through the LCL. What's going on in your head? she wondered. What are you bottling up in there?

Before she could reach any conclusions, Ritsuko announced the end of the test. Misato, frowning, watched the kids as they exited their plugs. Asuka, for once not seeking a confrontation, strode immediately off to clean and change. Shinji seemed to hesitate, glancing at Rei with fearful, haunted eyes, but the girl swept past without looking at him, though her lips were tight and her eyes squeezed shut.

As the kids wandered off, the technicians began the warm-down procedures, moving slowly, chatting with one another. They were growing lax, Misato realized vaguely, turning to watch them. It had been too long since an Angel had appeared, perhaps. "Hurry up," she instructed curtly; they blinked, Makoto jumping. "Don't get sloppy now." After a moment Shigeru nodded and the three returned to their usual efficiency.

Sighing, Misato left the box for her office. Someone had dropped off a report there, something brief about how NERV was now planning to acquire a Fifth Child. That'll be nice, she decided wryly.

Dismissing the news, she made her way down to the pilot lockers and waited. Asuka emerged almost instantly, giving her a withering look before striding away, but Misato remained leaning against the wall.

Eventually Shinji shuffled out of his side and blinked at her. He opened his mouth, then closed it again without speaking.

He looks so tired, she realized, stepping closer to study him. There were circles under his eyes, as though he'd not slept well, which begged the question of what he'd been doing in his room the last two nights. His blue eyes were more lifeless than usual, and they did not quite meet her gaze, instead staring off at something beyond her shoulder.

"Shinji," she greeted quietly. "How are you feeling? I haven't really had a chance to talk to you."

"I'm fine, Misato," he whispered, moving only his lips.

"Are you sure?" she pressed, advancing another step closer. "You look dead on your feet. Do you want me to drive you home, or... anything?"

He twitched, eyes shifting slowly to meet her gaze owlishly, unblinking. For a moment she could see something in them, something excited or agitated, though it flickered and died before she could identify it. Eventually he slumped, shaking his head wearily. "No, that's... you don't need to do that. Walking might help. Fresh air, and... you know."

Misato nodded encouragingly. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything, though. Seriously. You have people who care about you."

Shinji's eyes closed at this and he began to tremble. "Not anymore," he whispered. "Only you, now." Shuffling forward, he slid arms around her ribs, under her jacket, and squeezed her in a tight hug. "You're the only one who cares now. I just... thank you."

She nodded again, eyes burning as she hugged him in return. Such a sweet kid. I hope he gets better soon. He deserves better than to be in this kind of pain.

Shortly he released her, stepping back, and Misato did likewise, keeping her eyes averted. "Just... take it easy, okay?" she murmured. "Go home and relax and... I won't be home until late, though."

"I'll do what I can," he vowed quietly. "What I have to."

"Okay," she acknowledged, throwing one arm around him for a last hug. "I'll see you at home, then." As he mumbled agreement, she slipped past him and headed for the elevator.

That was better than nothing, she sighed as the steel doors closed in front of her. He talked, at least. Actually looked at someone. He'll get better.

In short moments the doors reopened and she stepped out, trotting back towards her office. Another thought struck her, making her frown. Was it the best idea to send him home to be with Asuka? On second thought, that might have been dumb. She paused, then shook her head. He'll be fine. They probably won't even talk.

Reaching her office, she ducked inside and flung herself into her chair. There she sat for a moment, staring at nothing, before finally shaking herself to attention. Don't be so sentimental, she scolded herself ruefully. He's been through a lot. He'll get over it; he's a trooper. Chuckling, she leaned forward to tap her console back to attention. With the movement, however, dawned a vague awareness that something was not quite right, something physical.

Blinking, she glanced down, examining herself. Finding no visible explanation for her sense of mild alarm, she patted herself down.

Then she froze. Where's my gun?

Something swirled fitfully in Shinji's hollow chest as he stepped out of the elevator on the highest floor it would reach. His legs moved slowly, mechanically; his eyes would not quite focus. I... I have to do this, he told himself again. I can't screw this up. Misato's service pistol was heavy in his hand, a silent promise.

He soon reached the door and found himself vaguely surprised that it opened for him. Within lay a vast low-domed office, as stark and unfriendly as he'd ever seen, illuminated by a cold bluish light that seemed to come from nowhere in particular. A faint chill touched his skin as he entered, though whether that was a result of the light, the person in the office, or simply cold air, he could not say.

The Commander was reading a report, he saw, and did not so much as glance up until Shinji was five paces away from the desk. "Third Child," he greeted flatly, returning to his reading. "I thought you might come here."

Shinji was not impressed. "I need to see Rei again," he whispered. The gun hung limply in his hand, at his side; he was certain his father had noticed it.

"You just saw Rei," countered the Commander absently, without looking up.

"I don't mean at a sync test," clarified Shinji. "I need you to let her talk to me. She won't do it without your permission."

"I know." The man's voice was cool, disinterested. "Keep that in mind."

Shinji felt himself frowning. "I need to see her," he repeated.

"No, I don't believe you do."

"You don't understand." He licked his lips, advancing a half-step. "I need her. She keeps me together. She was the only good thing in my entire life, and you took her away."

The Commander's head raised at this, and his features hardened slightly. "It is you who does not understand. This is for your own good."

"Bullshit." Shinji swallowed, but forced himself to continue. "You... you don't get to decide that about me. You don't know anything about me. You don't care. How can you think you know what's best for me?"

"It is not what I know about you," answered the man behind the desk. "It is what I know about Rei. It is what you do not know about her."

"I may not know about her," agreed Shinji shakily, "but I know her. I know her better than you do."

One corner of the Commander's lips curved in a humorless smile. "I sincerely doubt that. You might be quite surprised to learn the depth of your ignorance."

"Do you think I care?" wondered Shinji. "You have no idea how hard it is to pilot that thing, how much it hurts to fight. I don't care what you think you know about Rei, but she's everything to me. I need her."

Seemingly ignoring him, the other man leaned forward, pressing a glowing spot on his desk. "Send me Doctor Akagi."

"Right away, sir," came a woman's thin response.

Shinji shook his head slowly. "I don't care about Ritsuko. I want Rei."

"You cannot have her, Shinji."

"You don't get to call me by my first name," he rasped. "You don't have the right." Slowly he raised the gun, grabbed it with both hands, pointed it shakily across the table. "Call Rei right now. Tell her you've changed your mind."

The Commander stood, scowling. "Put the gun down."

He fears the gun. Fears me. "No."

"Put it down, Shinji."

"I said you don't get to call me that!" he shouted back. "Names are for people who care about each other! Now call Rei!" The gun was power in his hands, a rush of confidence.

"I'm not going to do that." The man's face was cold now, grim and angry. "You are making a mistake."

"A mistake," laughed Shinji nervously. "A mistake? How do you have the right to lecture me about mistakes? How? Where's Mother, Commander? Where's Touji? Talk to me about mistakes after you figure those things out." He paused, breathing deeply, trying to calm his shaking limbs.

The Commander scowled. "You know nothing," he growled. "You are a child throwing a tantrum."

Shinji closed his eyes. "Call Rei."

"No."

"Call her. Now."

"This is a mistake. You will suffer for this."

"I don't care," whispered Shinji, opening his eyes again. The sights had aligned on the face he hated so much. "Why would I? If I can't have Rei, I don't care what happens to me. Or what happens to you."

"Shinji--"

Something cracked loudly, propelled his arms back into his shoulders. The Commander's head jerked backwards, arms windmilling wildly; two halves of glasses, split at the bridge, sailed lazily away. Long legs stumbled back against a chair and the man fell out of sight, beyond the desk. The chair, spinning slowly, rolled to a halt some three paces away.

Silence. Silence but for the low hum of hidden machinery.

Blood. Red blood like splatters of black ink in the cool electric light.

Wide eyes. Rapid, uneven breath.

Numbly, almost as though he were watching through someone else's eyes, Shinji shuffled silently sideways, circling the table. Slowly a wide arc of wet speckled darkness on the floor appeared to his eyes, gradually resolving into the head and torso of the Commander. His face was webbed with glistening crimson, and a small but very artificial hole now lay between his unmoving eyes.

Shinji stared, coming to a halt as he stood over the body. The gun shook in his hands, still aimed desperately at the now-inanimate form of the Commander. His eyes, wondered part of his thoughts distantly. They're... kind of like mine.

Snarling, he fired again into the corpse, again and again, pouring bottled and helpless rage through his arms, into the warming metal in his hands, a black flood of savage release. Even when the barrel caught, the cartridge spent, he could not pull his finger from the trigger. His heart raced, a fluid thumping in his ears.

Vaguely he grew aware of other noise in the office, someone shouting. A woman. Ritsuko's voice. Shinji could not move except to shake, could not tear his eyes from the body. Booted running footsteps on the hard floor.

Something crashed into him, something heavy; black uniforms were all around, armed men. Shouting wordlessly, he struggled, losing his grip on the gun, but they were too many, too strong. Something cold and hard struck him behind one ear, and the world disappeared.