Thirteen years in.
Now it was just the two of them. She could see he wasn't sure what to say.
"I saw Akagi's report. I know we haven't got the slack to implement the repairs she wants, let alone make up for the disruption to MkIX production."
He massaged his temples, gathering his thoughts. He didn't dare look at her.
"I'm sorry-"
"No. If you want to side with Dr Akagi, and The Council, then so be it. But you will never have my approval."
"I don't care how 'necessary' it is," she added.
They'd had this conversation before, word for word. But...
"My Uncle's an SCIP." He said.
"What"
"It's the official term."
He offered no further explanation. She didn't need any. "For political-?"
"-No. For 'Useless...'"
He couldn't say it.
"Why tell me?"
"I guess, I just... wanted you to know. I'm not the one... I mean, it's not me that's... but it affects me too. There's no way you can see that, and not... I see him every couple of months. Seeing that kind of thing - seeing him - kinda makes you want to put on some Marignano and swallow a Retirer, you know?"
"You'd better not," she said "or who else is going to break this grim shit to me?"
She could do better than that. But she didn't really feel like joking now. She sniffed. "I didn't think suicide pills came with Nerv rations."
"They don't. But I've had them for a while."
"Get rid of them."
"..."
"Wanting an easy way out isn't doesn't exactly show much conviction in The Final Victory. Besides, you know what they'll do to your family."
"I know. I know! Believe me, I know. But just having them there makes me feel... it makes it easier."
He caught her eye. "Knowing I have an exit makes living easier."
"Consequences be damned?"
He looked aside, and she continued.
"It's not healthy. And I can't have my subordinates offing themselves on a whim. You run the casualty stats for The Children. You of all people should know the risks of spontaneous suicide."
Unplanned suicide accounted for about 90% of suicide attempts among the general population, and always had - though for The Children with combat experience it was more like 60%. And Retirer pills had a .01% survival rate, according to the Ministry Of Health packaging it came in. "But I'm not-"
"-Get rid of them." There was a long silence. When she spoke, her voice was soft. "Please."
He couldn't refuse that tone, not from her. "Yes, ma'am."
"Who are they?" He asked the driver. The driver - Sato? - shrugged.
"More starvers, probably." He coughed into a rag he'd pulled from somewhere.
"What, they want more food?"
"Guess so."
He snorted. "Like that'll ever happen. Can't we get them to move? The kids are getting restless."
"Yeah... nope. The militia are getting right onto it, see..." He tapped one of the monitors showing the view outside the convoy. The militiamen were moving in with batons.
Shinji watched impassively as they beat down a girl of no more than fourteen.
"Supposed to strip-search them, are they?"
The driver stole a glance at the screen. "Ah, nah. That'll be them having their way with her."
In the middle of the street, no less. Shinji scratched his nose. "Isn't that illegal?"
"Technically."
One of the officers suppressing her suddenly crumpled to the ground... with a knife in his neck. She'd managed to stab him in the gap between his helmet and his neck-guard.
Smart.
"That's illegal, surely."
"Oh, yes. She'll be in for it now."
They resumed hitting her with renewed vigour.
"In where, exactly? I thought they were trying to close more prisons down."
"So?"
"Well, that'd make the ones left more crowded, wouldn't it?"
"Why?"
"...oh," he said in a small voice.
"Yeah."
"Surely she'd - they'd - be more useful as forced labour?"
The driver/Sato sniffed. "Ain't no shortage of that. Anyway, you really think them officers is going to let her get to a Justice Panel? Their blood's runnning hot."
He sighed. "Everyone's is. I should know. I've got a brother what's been branded a Useless Mouth. It's no life worth living, that's for sure."
"Your brother's crippled?"
"Nah, not a scratch on him. But he's working in a 'non-essential capacity', so..."
They watched in silence as the way was cleared for them. It wasn't long before they were underway again.
Shinji got out the commander's hatch and went around to the back to open the rear doors for The Children. At his command - "Out!" - they exited and formed up beside the vehicle.
This batch were squad 2-A. He knew absolutely nothing about them apart from the fact that they were new and he was supposed to be organising bonding exercises for them and shit like that.
So he'd brought them up to this windy, isolated hillside overlooking Operational Zone One for a picnic. It was just J-rations, though he'd supplemented his with a little black-market material, but it was 'the emotional connection forged by shared experience' that was supposed to be important.
"Don't you have normal clothes?"
They were still wearing their plugsuits. He sighed. "Go and sit, eat, talk. Bond. Maybe even in that order." They did nothing but stare at him. "Shoo."
He stared back, wondering if they'd understood. But even the Japanese ones were looking at him expectantly.
Ah.
"You're dismissed. Now piss off and do kid stuff." He said, formally dismissing them. They saluted and broke formation, retrieving their rations from the transport.
The driver gave him space, which he appreciated. So many people had met him and... thought they were friends, somehow, just because they'd heard aaaaaaall about him and what he'd done and all the things he'd killed and with what and when and with whom...
He hated those people with a passion.
This guy, at least, wasn't impressed. And he knew when to give someone space.
Shinji pointedly ignored the counter-snipers who'd taken up positions all around them in favour of eating his chicken sandwich - made with real black-market chicken (or some sort of lean meat, anyway) and wheat-bread, and something resembling cheese - while meandering along the road.
Their escort had used their own armoured transports as impromptu roadblocks, so he was free to take a nap right there in the middle of it for however the hell long he wanted.
Right now he didn't, though, in favour of going to Misato's Spot.
He stood by the guard rail and, as he had all those years ago, looked out over the area that had been Tokyo-3... and waited for the sun to set.
He sat down right there on the road and washed down the last of the sandwich with a gulp from his flask. It was 70% alcohol or something ridiculous like that - it was probably half ethanol - but at least it was safe. The water quality was getting worse all the time. He swore his bath-water had had things swimming in it, last time he'd had one.
Of course, that'd been before the water restrictions. The rest of the population had had them for quite a while, apparently.
He'd never thought of working for Nerv as a privelege, as such. But maintaining pilot morale was important, apparently...something he'd milked for all it was worth. Hell, it was why half his squad - 2-A - was eating genuine 10% animal-flesh-paste right now, not that other stuff. He even made sure they got their daily ration of hard spirits, even if it too was half ethanol.
In practice, they tended to save it up - either to get drunk enough to forget everything every few days, or to spend every second day slightly tipsy. A long while back... a long while, back when they were still chewing through the third MP series, Ritsuko had tried to get the kids to do 'constructive' things together lin their spare time like... sitting around a piano and signing songs.
They'd had von Halder at first, and he'd been a dab hand at the piano. And most of them had been able to carry a tune. But then there was only Georges, who was... okay, but nothing stellar. They'd had to find some easier arrangements of the music for him because he found von Halder's accompaniments a little hard. But Georges had been years ago.
This batch - the lot of them, not just 2-A - didn't have a single musician among them. Most goddamn advanced battle-machines on the face of the planet and they were the singularly most uncultured little shits he'd ever met. He'd brought his cello to the Christmas meet last year. They'd never even heard of a cello before, let alone heard one played.
Except for that one kid, of course. He'd played some Elgar for them and about ten seconds in she started sobbing into her punch, and couldn't stop. Nobody moved to comfort her.
He'd managed to say some kind words to her afterward, but he hadn't seen her after that night - she must've washed out of the program.
Anyway. Point is, there wasn't a single musician among them. Hadn't been for two generations.
But they had three kids who'd turned in someone else for Defeatism. Even their own family. Especially their own family. Not that he knew what having a family was supposed to be like, of course - bar his time with Misato, which had been decent enough. But even he knew that was...
He took a last swig and put the empty flask away, focusing instead on the pockmarked, scarred landscape - the site of a thousand battles over as many years, or so it felt to him.
Actually, it'd only been... what, ninety-six? Ninety-seven, maybe. He had no idea anymore. He'd lost count. They were just enemies to him. Enemy, enemy, enemy...
Darkness came, and with it the midgies. They'd never bothered him much, though he was gleefully amused at the thought of them savaging his charges and eating them alive.
Just like what'd happened to poor Konev, actually. Only with a 'fragmented core' Angel that'd been a devil to kill, and not small biting insects that made you itchy.
Some kid or other came scampering along to him after a while. He didn't bother concealing how pissed-off he was at being disturbed (he wasn't, actually, but he just wanted to screw with the kid).
"Um... Captain Ikari?"
"Whaddisit, kid? Kiddo..." he slurred.
"Um..."
The moment drew out unnecessarily long. "I'm drunk. Sue me. Not that you know what 'sue' means. Have you even heard of a court? A real court, not a court-martial. Anyway. Speak."
"Um... we're... we were, um, we were wondering when we might possibly be leaving? There are a lot of midgies around, and we-"
"-Now. We're leaving now. Come on, kiddo." He got to his feet.
"Um, it's 'Richard'-"
"-Yeah, look, that's nice and all. But do you really think that I'd be able to sleep at night if I learned all your names? No offense." He sniffed. "Kid."
They walked back in silence.
At least, until Richard tried to talk to him.
"Um, Captain Ikari sir?"
He didn't respond. For some reason, Richard took that as an invitation to continue, not a hint to desist because he was being an irritating little shit. "Is it... was it...is it really true that you..."
Sayaka would've found his stumblings and fumblings adorable.
"How long have you been here? I mean, at Nerv." He blurted out "Because, I mean, everyone knows you, everyone, and, nobody remembers who came before you because you were always there and, you taught everyone..."
Sayaka's panties would've been dropping faster than...something really heavy, if she'd been here right now.
Only not, because heavy things didn't actualy fall faster than really light things. Asuka had explained that to him once, a long time ago, back when they were still in school and he was struggling with some homework or other. It'd made sense to him at the time, but for some reason - probably because he was tipsy - it sounded really silly right now, that a light thing could drop at the same speed - or faster- than a heavy thing.
Anyway, Sayaka would've loved this kid. Mari too, of course. She'd liked kids. Then again, she'd been one herself. Even Tanaka had been older than her.
"Um, Captain Ikari?"
They were nearly back, but he stopped. He took a deep, calming breath. Then gave the kid a sickly-sweet smile.
"No."
He kept walking.
"You're mean."
He stopped. And found himself grinning.
"You're always mean! And old. And nasty. You're just being mean for no reason and it's super-unfair!"
He smiled, and sniffed. The wind up here often left his eyes uncomfortably dry, but that wasn't a problem anymore all of a sudden.
When he turned to face the boy, the kid seemed to be regretting his outburst - but wasn't taking his words back.
Shinji smiled, wryly. Wearily. "You probably won't die like an idiot. The rest is up to you, I guess. Well. You, the enemy, and pure dumb luck."
He knew only too well which of those three things - alone - he himself was still here by virtue of.
It's not fair.
He wiped his nose with his handkerchief, and picked the sleep from his eyes with it as well. "If you're still here in three months, you can ask me whatever the hell you like. And I will answer."
He walked on.
Thanks again for the reviews... there's some real food for thought among them. Do I feel silly asking for more? Kinda. But if you found it interesting - let alone bad/good - please review my story.
Thanks for reading!