I Knew Him When chapter 7
Adam Kadmon
Disclaimer: don't own Eva.
The klaxon was spinning red headache, shrieking and screaming electric wail. It hurt him to hear it. It hurt him to see it. It dawned on Shinji that he did not want to be here.
His footsteps, as well as the footsteps of the men on either side of him, rang loud and hollow on the catwalk. It was a high gantry above a dark pit of abyss, that stretched farther than his sight could imagine. He was on a patchwork of metal grated walkways crisscrossing through the air like a spider web. There were people above and below him. Some looked at him. Some did not.
He felt like he had no control over his body. His legs carried him along, his arms allowed the men to hold him. He tried to speak, to ask where they were going, but he could not summon any words.
A loudspeaker drilled through the air.
"Final weather outlook clear. Conditions green. Airspace clear of traffic for ten miles. Geothermic conditions nominal. No crust shifts detected. Electromagnetism green. Conditions within Tokyo-2 are all green. Base is ready for activation. All systems ready. All systems green."
The klaxon roared.
A large foreigner leading him, a man with a jutting jaw, turned to Shinji.
"You're up, kid."
The gantry terminated in a wall that fell below his feet and rose above his head. Silhouetted in the wall, encased in it, was a giant white arm. The articulation, the mass, the lines and marks were all familiar, because he knew them.
Realization crested his conscious mind and he screamed.
The guards pushing him forward did not take kindly to his sudden, violent protests. He felt a blow to his stomach as he started to thrash.
"Idiots!" the man with the jaw yelled. "We need him intact! Just get him into the plug."
He kept screaming.
The two guards marched forward, dragging Shinji down the catwalk. They passed under a narrow gate, and then they were in the cage proper.
It was not a finished Evangelion unit, that much he could see. It was missing armor, covered in a thick, leathery skin flap which obscured its joints and edges. As he approached it, Shinji recognized the eyeless face, the broad, curving mouth and lips, the bulge on its back where the wings would sprout. It was one of the things that had killed Asuka, that had stolen Rei's face, that had forced him to witness the end of the world.
He kept screaming.
But they were stronger than he was. The guards and the man with the jaw pulled him, flailing and shrieking to the exposed plug. It was grey. It was unnumbered.
His throat was raw and sore. He could no longer scream.
"I don't… I don't want to," Shinji whimpered. "Please don't make me…"
"Shut up and get in, asshole," the soldier on his right hissed. "And don't get any shitty ideas, either. We can have you and your little bitch friend killed if you try anything."
He was shoved forward, through the hatch, clipping his shoulder. He gasped in pain as he stumbled into the plug seat. The hatch closed before he could look back up. When he did he felt ill. The door's inside handle was missing. He was trapped.
His weak hands futilely beat against the plug's wall. His breath hiccupped and clicked.
"Let me out! Please! Please! God, please!"
He only yelled a little as the LCL slipped up past his face. He wondered if it was possible to hyperventilate in the coppery liquid. He wondered who he was breathing in right now. Had they collected this blood from the sea? Which of his friends' collapsed bodies was entering him as he drew short, terrified breaths? Was that Kensuke tickling his nose? Ritsuko-san sliding down his throat? Misato-san splashing in his lungs?
"Let me out! God, stop it!" He thrashed in panic. "Let me out!"
The entry plug dissolved as a connection was made. He felt the dull sensation of the Eva trying to synch with him, a subtle extension of his body and mind. Like something trying to get under his skin. In a very real sense, something was.
Shinji kept his eyes shut, trying to make himself pass out.
Just don't think. Don't do anything and nothing will happen. Don't think. Nothing bad will happen. It might… it might not even have anyone inside it.
"Hello."
Two slender arms wrapped around Shinji's body, and a face fell on his shoulder. He looked back and found Nagisa Kaworu staring down at him. His eyes were missing, his lips curled back in a toothless grin. His neck became visible for a moment as he titled his head, and Shinji saw small eyes and mouths and fingers covering his neck. He looked down. Kaworu was naked, the bottom half of his body fused into a grotesque mass of flesh and tubes and wires at the base of the plug seat. What was pale and skin was covered in empty eye sockets, gaping mouths, crooked pointing fingers.
"I want to show you something," the thing told Shinji. The plug walls vanished in a flash of light, and the world beyond was a fiery hell. He saw other white Evangelions appear, their mouths opening wide and collapsing behind their necks, letting Kaworu heads push up. They all smiled.
Shinji screamed, flailing his arms and legs. His eyes closed but even in the darkness he could see. His mind's eye opened. He saw Kaworu floating in a glass tube. He saw a giant of light. He saw the construction of the white units. He saw strange men and talking monoliths. He saw Rei. He saw Asuka, torn asunder. He saw Asuka, dying in her plug. He saw Rei again, giant, and white, and heavenly. He saw every human on earth collapse to puddles of LCL. He saw his mother. He saw his father.
He tasted his father, his mangled torso squirting between his teeth. Bones cracked like pocky sticks. He could feel, feel, as he bit down on the head, the teeth applying horrible pressure, hair and skin on the polished enamel… the crack of the skull splitting in three, the brains gnashed against tooth and tongue and lips. He ate his father and felt his knowledge drip down into him. He ate his soul and felt his emotions churn his stomach.
"Look at this," Kaworu said.
The black egg of Lilith was swirling in Rei's hands. Souls flew around it, into it, all howling for release, all desperate to see their new God. Shinji heard them all, the voices and shouts and emotions colliding together within his mind. He could feel them making holes where they entered, leaving wet spiraling trails of bloody tears. He could feel them emptying his brain, careening off the inside of his skull. Soon there was no filtration system between what he saw and what he thought. His eyes allowed everything into him, and he could not process it all.
He saw Third Impact for the second time in his life. He saw it and lost his mind again.
Three months later Ikari Shinji slit his wrists.
"Shinji-san, hello. I hope this isn't a bad time…"
"My days are surprisingly absent of good and bad times, Dr. Kirishima. There is only time." He made a sound that was almost a sigh, but not quite. "Come in."
Mana stepped through the threshold, smiling to her host. He looked tired and weary. Like always.
"You… you look awful, Shinji-san," she said. "Did I wake you up?"
"Actually… yes, you did. No, don't apologize. I shouldn't be sleeping in the middle of the day anyway."
"Well, you don't look very rested at all."
"No, I suppose not. I… it was just an old nightmare. Imagine me, a twenty six year old, still having nightmares. It's a little ridiculous."
"No," Mana said, frowning seriously. "Not at all. I… well, if anyone has a right to bad dreams, it would be you, Shinji-san."
"A right to nightmares… that sounds rather pathetic." He guided her to the couch, and he again sat opposite her on the chair. "Excuse me for being rude, but why are you here? There's nothing left to discuss. There's nothing left I can tell you."
"I don't believe that's true." Mana peered at him. "For starters, you could tell me why you always sit so far away from me. I won't bite you, I promise."
Shinji frowned, blinking in confusion.
"Well, I… I just thought you'd be more comfortable sitting across from me. Isn't it easier to conduct interviews this way?"
"Perhaps… but I can't help but feel like you're manipulating me, Shinji-san."
"What? How?"
"This couch is plush, and I sink down in it. You're sitting in a stiff chair and are higher than me. Can you tell me you're not trying to keep some power over me?" Mana's face remained blank, keeping him guessing if she was angry or not.
"… I never really thought of that. I just thought the couch was more comfortable for you. I… the other rooms in the house aren't this relaxed, and I've always talked to people in here, like this… I'm sorry. I honestly wasn't trying to one-up you, doctor."
Mana's face never shifted from bland indifference.
"And I honestly don't believe I'm the first person to bring this up, am I?" she asked.
"… well… no, but—"
She grinned and laughed once, holding her hand to her mouth.
"I don't begrudge you holding some power over me, Shinji-san. I guess you must be sick to death of all us military dogs badgering you everyday. I completely understand."
"I don't consider you dogs," he said.
"Right. What do you consider us? Vultures? Demons?"
"You're doing your job. If some teenage kid piloting a bio-mechanical war machine who was directly involved with the last few months of the world was in my possession, I'd question him too. I can't be angry at you, doctor. It's behind me."
"That's… big of you," she admitted. "I wish I could forgive people like you do."
"I never said I forgave anyone. It just doesn't matter anymore."
A brief, awkward silence fell.
"So," Mana finally asked. "Want to sit on the couch with me?"
Shinji bowed his head, grinning softly. It was the first time she had seen such an unguarded display from him.
"If it's what you want."
"Still eager to please, Shinji-san?" She couldn't resist the opportunity to tease a little.
"I can't help it. I don't get the chance that often anymore."
He sank down beside her, being careful not to look at her. Mana glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, inwardly grinning at how thin he was, how angular and sharp the physical lines of his body appeared to her.
He's so skinny!
They were silent for a time, Mana putting her thoughts in order about where to proceed, Shinji simply relishing the company of another human being. When at length she still did not say anything, he decided to speak to her.
"May I ask you a personal question, doctor?"
"Uh… that depends on how personal."
"It's nothing strange, I don't think. I just… I wonder what you think about me." Shinji waved his hands. "It isn't like I'm an egomaniac or anything, it's just… well, everyone I've ever talked to, since I came back… they either hate me, or fear me, or adore me. Some are better than others at hiding it… like you." He glanced at her, frowning. "I'm sorry. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"No, no. No. It's… I mean, well… I suppose you've earned the right to ask people that." She sighed. Mana never considered herself someone who wore their heart on their sleeve, but she thought it was fairly clear what she thought of him. Why would he ask? He was too smart not to know already.
But she did want to tell him, if only to help heal his damaged ego.
"Honestly," she said, "I… well, I think you're basically a good person in a bad situation. You're smart, witty, and seem to want to help people. Not that you're perfect or anything. I… well, you focus on the negative an awful lot. Not that your life is particularly rosy or pleasurable, but… you seem to not want to see anything nice or light. Like you're using your intellect to shield yourself from emotions. I personally think you're selling yourself short. I… obviously I don't know what you've been through, or what living in isolation is really like, but… I don't know. It makes me sad to see someone so jaded." She sighed again, and shrugged. "That's what I think."
"Thank you," Shinji said, after a pause. "For being honest."
She nodded.
"I always try to be." Mana rubbed her arm. "Well, what do you think about me? It's only fair, Shinji-san. And yes, I'm asking because I'm an egomaniac."
He looked at her, tracing the contours of her face with his eyes.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"Wh-what? What? What does that have to do with—"
"You said you were fourteen in 2015. I'd like to know how old you are now."
"I'm…" Mana stopped. She was not twenty six. Even thought it was 2027. She, like everyone else, had lost a few years in the sea. Stripped away by the Evangelions. "I'm twenty four," she said, not looking at him.
"I see…" He leaned back and sighed. "What I think about you… I think you're a smart, motivated person who tries too hard sometimes, but has her heart in the right place. I think you're a good person, helping people who lack your strength and courage. I think that perhaps you get frustrated sometimes with your job, with this world, but you don't let anyone else see it. You're good at keeping people at a distance, when you want. But you aren't cold about it. It's as much for their protection as it is for your own." He paused. "I also think I owe you a debt that can never be repaid. It's the same debt I owe everyone who returned. And everyone who hasn't."
It took her a moment to process everything he said.
He should be doing my job. She blushed.
"… thank you, Shinji-san." Mana blinked quickly, dispelling a watery sensation. "I… I wish I could have met you… back than. Before all of this… before… all of this…"
Shinji nodded faintly.
"You would have been greatly disappointed. I am not the legend people make me out to be." He blew out a breath. "I am not the God people say I am."
"I don't think you're a God, either. But I do think you're a legend. I think… you're a hero…"
And she believed it. She believed it despite the military's indoctrination, despite the propaganda espoused by the UN and JSSDF. She wanted to believe it.
Because he was like her: a child forced into the dark world of adults, children without childhoods. Made to grow too fast, innocence stripped away, until nothing but machine was left. Machines bred to fight, to kill, for cowardly adults who were afraid to get any blood on their hands.
Shinji was as much a victim as she was, probably more so. He was a civilian. He was forced into this dark world without training, or even the barest preparation. And this end result, this broken man was all that was left.
Fate was a cruel, vicious devil. It takes without warning or remorse, and never stays to help pick up the pieces. Mana had seen it far too many times; life striking without warning to shatter the most carefully laid plans. She had lived it too many times.
She had lived it for the past eight years. Relentlessly hunting for the truth the man beside her held, wading through the human misery of countless anonymous survivors, suffering in silence by herself alone in her apartment every night. This was what her life truly was: for all its pain and fear and confusion and nightmares, it was to reach this point. Where she was right this instant was the culmination of a life's work and struggle. She genuinely felt she was destined to be here, to meet him, to know the truth. It was fated.
Not for the first time Mana wondered what he would have been like if they had met, outside of this dim setting. If the plan from so long ago had been executed. The arrogant, proud side of her imagined she would have been able to solve all his problems, and in turn, save the world. The tiny, tickling part of her that still had desires and wishes imagined a bright and colorful affair that gave them hope and strength. But it was all worthless daydreaming next to the real thing.
She looked at him. The boy from the countless pictures she had on file was gone; he no longer had the subtle curving lines of his youth. He was a man now, all angles and edges. Everything about him was longer and sharper now. He appeared almost brittle. It was in acute contrast to all her early fantasies about him, of a dashing, strong superman who defeated Angels with a flick of his wrist. But she surprised herself by not being disappointed. She found the truth, the reality of sitting next to Ikari Shinji, no matter what form he took, to be far superior to any idle musing or private desire. He was here and real; skinniness, gloom, sadness and torture notwithstanding. He was real.
And he was not unattractive, the superficial beast inside her triumphed. The soft cuteness that had made her feel so warm so often was absent, but this, this darkness and harshness was the logical outcome of the life he led. He was handsome, in a depressive, brooding sort of way. Usually not her type. She liked someone who could make her laugh, make her forget. Looking at Shinji she was reminded of everything negative about herself, and her past. She saw a dark reflection of herself.
But here he was, the flesh and blood dream she had carried with her for nearly a decade. The person she wanted to meet, more than anyone. She genuinely felt he was the reason she returned. And he was here now, right beside her, breathing the same air, sitting on the same couch, living the same life. He was here. And so was she.
She looked up at him, her mouth open a sliver, and for the life of her, Mana thought she was going to kiss him. She discounted her training and her logic and found herself leaning towards him. She felt hot and electric, like there was a fire rippling under her skin, accumulating in her lips, propelling her forward to his like a magnet.
Her pelvis stopped quivering when she found him regarding her coldly. Like she had just insulted his mother.
"A hero?" Shinji said. "I'm sorry you feel that way."
The teenage fantasy that had momentarily seized Mana crumbled. With all the subtlety of an arid sponge between her legs.
"All the heroes I know are dead," he went on.
I'm trapped.
"They all died that day."
I want to die.
"I did nothing heroic, or worth remembering."
I want to die and stay dead.
"All I can do now is talk about them. To keep them alive in my thoughts and words, because I can never see them again."
I want to die and not come back.
"Never again."
I want to die.
Please, please God…
Let me die.
Shinji lay in the bathtub, the blood running out of his veins, the crimson razor lying at his side. He held his wrist over the drain, watching with detached fascination as its contents swirled and stained. Everything was red. Deep, sleek, deadly red.
It hurt, yes, but it was the same hurt like when he broke his hand against the floor, or detached his eyeball, or attempted to tear his tongue out. Not that he recalled any of those episodes clearly, but lying in the tub, watching the life drain from him, Shinji recaptured a degree of lucidity. He regained the ability to see himself, at least from a safe distance. He was aware he was going to die, really die this time, just like he should have all those years ago. At Third Impact, at Zeruel's hand, at Bardiel's hand, at Matariel's, at Israfel's, at Gaghiel's, at Ramiel's, Shamshel's, Sachiel's, Unit-01, father, mother, his own hand. They all blurred and blended until his entire past became a single moment for him, a single breath or blink of the eye. A single second of pain and hate and fear and loneliness. A single red, sustained line of liquid that bled from the deepest cut on his wrist. He watched it depart him and vanish down the drain, and he felt lighter as more left him. He smiled as it left him.
"You must not die yet."
Shinji coughed, the chill gaining. Was this finally the end? Would he finally be able to rest? He didn't know if he would be allowed to see his mother and father, or Misato, or Rei, or Kaworu, or anyone else. He found he didn't care. As long as he didn't feel anymore. As long as he could escape from feeling anything. That was his last, his only wish. The final act of selfishness.
"This is not the world I gave to you."
To heaven, to hell, to limbo… he didn't care. It didn't matter where he went. He knew where he deserved to go, and everlasting torment did hold a certain allure, but he was generally confused on this part. Was this hell right here, right now? Was this hell, where he had woken up on the beach so many years ago? It felt like it. Maybe him dying again right now was his being reborn. He tried to make some kind of horror rise in him regarding the possibility, but he was so tired of feeling. He just wanted to rest.
"This is not the world I wanted you to have."
Shinji lolled his head to the side. There was someone else in the bathroom with him. Someone he knew, someone else he had killed, a lifetime of pain ago. He didn't want to see, to be reminded of all the guilt and hate, and he didn't. His emotions had just finished swirling the drain. Next would be his soul.
"I will not allow you to die, Ikari-kun."
Ayanami Rei stood over him, peering down at his broken form. She kneeled, taking time to fold her school dress under her legs. She passed her fingers over his opened wrist, and it stopped bleeding. She touched his brow and the madness lifted from his eyes.
"Not like this."
She was smiling at him. The same smile she gave him in the sea, between the earth and the black moon, between conscious life and blissful artifice.
Ayanami.
Her hand ran through his hair, a gentle, intimate gesture. She touched his face. She still smiled.
Ayanami.
She stood, or appeared to. But he still felt her soft fingers on him. He never knew something could feel so good. The tears fell from his eyes, as the blood stayed in his body. The blood carrying his emotions, and feelings, and soul. They wouldn't leave him now.
Ayanami. Don't save me again.
She was gone. He couldn't feel her touch. He looked at his wrist. Nothing but a deep purple scar. He looked at the tub. Nothing but smudged crimson at the edges. He looked at the razor. It was shining and clean.
Ayanami… not again…
He was alive, and he felt it. He couldn't stop feeling it. The veins pumping life throughout his body charged blindly ahead, heedless of self-destructive orders. He was trapped in this pathetic shell and could not escape. He was doomed to life.
Ayanami…
To a life filled to the brim with regret and recrimination and agony. He was the cause of this hell on earth. He was the reason so many people died. He was the reason so many had not yet returned. He was cursed to the life he had given up on. Not even his own hand could stop it.
He was alive, and was mercilessly assaulted on all sides by his lifetime of overwhelming failures and missed opportunities. Nothing was spared and his life, the entire sad stretch from beginning to end to beginning to end was sharp and precise and he could not run away from it. He relived each and every defeat, each disappointment, each eternal frustration without pause or end. The crushing weight of self awareness fell all around him and an entire world in ruin screamed in his ears.
THIS IS YOUR PUNISHMENT
Ayanami… please let me die this time.
Shinji stayed on the floor, arm stretched towards the drain, the cool tile pressed against his face. The tears still fell from his eyes.
End of chapter 7
Author notes: the opening was what drove him completely insane. The ending was what, figuratively speaking, knocked some sense back into him. Felt like it was time to tell it. I know it's a let down, but cut me some slack. My dark tanks are running on fumes. Does that mean this is going to have a happy ending? Not likely.
Next time is an interlude, which will up the insanity level considerably. And will actually move the plot forward to its conclusion. I'm planning roughly ten or eleven chapters, depending on how much I want to cram into the next few.
But the real question on everybody's minds is if Mana and Shinji are going to hook up. I know that's what most of you might want, but man. Creepy. A psychologist and her patient. Wrong.