Those first few weeks at the Vinsons' house, our house as I could now say, was a flurry of cleaning up and moving things around and settling in. Some months before the house had been ransacked by UN and SEELE agents hunting for Maria and the Admiral
and they left the rooms in a complete mess. Maria had only returned home three weeks ago and while managing to clean up much of the damage on her own it didn't look the way it had before on the inside, as the Vinsons' pursuers were deliberately violent
in trashing anything that looked delicate. Much of the decorations and keepsakes that gave Maria's house such a charming quality had been destroyed and while she had gone to great lengths to try and fix things Patrick and I needed to pitch in to help
nearly as soon as we arrived.

As far as our own accommodations went, the guest room with the garden motif and attached bathroom became my own room and I was not at all disappointed with that. Patrick was offered Vance's own bedroom by Maria, but he immediately refused and suggested
the attic would be a better spot despite him having to go downstairs to use a bathroom.

So it took us a while to put together everything needed to make the old house fully livable again, and that meant the three of us, Patrick and Maria and I spent a lot of time together working. Patrick was surprisingly adept at home repairs, having learned
by making fixes to his uncle's mountain cabin. I pitched in as much as I could, and while I didn't know the first thing about fixing up a house it felt good to actually work with my hands, doing things like painting and cleaning up. I didn't feel
useless for once.

While during the days we'd be working on the house those nights were spent close to the fireplace with Patrick and I sitting on the floor, huddled by embers and sipping on homemade hot cocoa that Maria made for us. Memories of our time in SEELE's dungeon
were still close by and often we just sat there and listened to the fire, leaning on each other during the night. I suppose it was then when we really bonded, as by now I felt I could trust him and he could trust me. We became close in the way we
should have always been.

The only break in our routine was the twice-daily period Patrick would get on his satellite phone and speak with Rei back in Japan. Their conversations weren't all that long but spent in hushed tones, speaking a mixture of Japanese and English. He was
doing his best to keep up spirits and be encouraging to both Rei and himself but I knew that he missed her very much, especially by that look on his face when he hung up the phone, his expression of frustration and sadness from being separated from
someone he loved.

I knew that feeling too, but in my case it couldn't be fixed with a phone call. It couldn't be fixed at all.

After about a month we managed to get things in the house much improved as we finally ran out of things to fix and clean iit was that we had finally settled in, or maybe it was the weather outside, as it had been raining for over a week
straight and I hadn't been outside much, but I began to feel a chill inside of me, one that I couldn't quite get rid of.

It wasn't that I didn't like the rain: hey, I grew up in a desert! I think the first time we got a big storm at the Maine house I ended up playing outside in it, happily twirling around as falling raindrops soaked me until Patrick literally dragged me
inside. That foolish thing had given me a cold for a week, but I hadn't minded as I loved the feeling of the cool rain falling on my face. After a while though the rain ceased to be special and became just grey and gloomy and I think that's when I
started slowing down.

There was a day that I woke up and just decided not to go outside my room. I didn't come down for breakfast, and despite both Patrick and Maria knocking on my door I didn't go out at all. Instead I just slouched down on the floor, dressed in an oversized
nightgown and leggings and spent the whole day just hugging my knees close. My mind was empty except for a feeling of sadness that I just couldn't shake. That feeling stayed with me the whole day and night, and while I knew the others were concerned
for me I just didn't want to talk to anyone or do anything. So I lie awake in my bed and just thought about the past.

It was Vance that was on my mind. Now living in this house, everything that I saw or felt here reminded me of him. Maybe I had been too busy before with all of the cleanups and settling in, but now with nothing to do the memories came back of that one
time I was here before last year. I remembered feeling warm but not hot, I remembered playing with him on the very bed that I now slept in, and I remembered our first kiss by the lake.

But he was gone, and it was so hard because I knew how much both Patrick and Maria also loved him. I couldn't bring up how I felt with either of them, lest my emotions that I kept all bottled up started raging out and drown either of them. They both had
their reasons to not talk much about Vance as we carried on with life at the lake house, and I didn't want to distract either of them with my problems. But I felt terrible.

On the following morning Patrick was persistent in reaching out to me, finally knocking not on my door but on my outside window. Startled, I turned around and saw him making goofy faces outside as he stood on the roof in an attempt to lighten my spirits.
He kept at it until I finally giggled and opened the window for him to come inside.

"You wouldn't open your door," he explained, "so I figured drastic measures were required."

I sat down on the bed, sighing deeply but at least with a smile on my face. "Thanks," I told him.

"Well, I'm here to rescue you. So how about we get out of this place and get lost in the woods?" I nodded, glad that someone knew how to break my walls down.

I changed into a flannel shirt, blue jeans and sneakers and followed Patrick as we walked together into the countryside next to the house. The weather was nice and cool and a gentle breeze few by as we went deeper into the forest, climbing over fallen
trees and rocks and pushed through the terrain. We didn't say much at first, but I knew that Patrick knew that something was eating me.

Suddenly he stopped and put a finger to his lips, motioning for me to be quiet and still. Then he silently crept up towards another fallen tree. From about thirty feet away I could see the shape of a brown and black animal peering at us with two small
black eyes: it was a raccoon, and rather than be scared of us and run off it curiously stared at Patrick as he got closer.

Apparently prepared for this, my brother reached into his shirt pocket and grabbed out a pack of salty crackers. Unwrapping the plastic wrapper, Patrick carefully approached the raccoon and just within a few feet of him placed the crackers down on top
of a log. I watched as Patrick then backed off and waited, and within a minute the raccoon jumped onto the log and sniffed at the crackers. Satisfied that it was edible, it took a piece into its tiny hands and munched on it, then grabbed the rest
and looked at Patrick and at me. I thought the little guy looked really cute, and strangely unafraid of two humans in the woods. In another moment the racoon heard something in the forest and then quickly scampered off and out of sight.

I looked at Patrick in amazement. "How did you get him to do that?"

"They eat freaking anything," he told me. "Used to always bait those things while I was in the cabin in Big Bear. Give it another week of doing this and he'll be eating out of trash at home."

My bad mood was lifted a little bit more after the moment with the racoon, and I just relaxed and leaned on the log as Patrick stood around and scanned the woods for anything else. As he did so a terrible thought just came to me.

"What happened to the EVA?" I cried aloud.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh my God! I've been so busy with everything that I completely forgot about her! What happened to our EVA?"

Patrick laughed out loud. "Some pilot you are!"

"I'm serious! Is she okay?"

"She is," my brother answered. "They flew it back from Norway a little while ago, she's back at Tokyo-3 now."

"How did they get her out of the mountain? I mean with neither of us there…"

"Rei synched with it and moved her to the surface," he explained, "then they loaded it in an airplane and flew it back. That's all."

"She can do that?"

"Rei can actually sync with any EVA now, so yeah. But the unit's okay, mostly repaired from all of the damage by now I think."

"I'm sorry, I should have thought about this earlier."

"No worries, I know it's been difficult."

"What do you mean?"

"Living in Vance's house," he said.

I didn't reply at first, but I guess the cause of my gloom was obvious. I stayed perched on the fallen log and Patrick came and sat down next to me.

"I wasn't here before, but even so it's still hard to be here now," he continued. "It's hard to see Maria every day too, knowing all of what happened."

My exasperation finally boiled to the surface. "Why did all of this have to happen, anyway?" I blurted out loud? "So many stupid things with, with Mom and Dad and..and…EVA and all of these bad things that happened! Vance shouldn't have had to die! Second
Branch shouldn't have had to, like, fall into some black hole or anything! And the whole world goes to war and everything! For what?! Just over EVA?! That's it?!"

"And yet we survived…"

"Sometimes I wish I wouldn't have," I told him bluntly. "Maybe it would have been better if I was still stuck in that coma, sleeping through everything."

Patrick nudged closer to me, patting me on my leg and trying to be encouraging. "I'm glad you didn't," he told me. "Without you we couldn't have put an end to all of this."

"Really?" I asked him.

"Erin," he said to me, "despite all of the hell you got put through when we needed it you took the big ol' bad guy and dunked him into a volcano."

"So?"

"So, that's you, Frodo Baggins, and Obi-Wan Kenobi. Pretty good in my book."

I just stared in shock at him after he said that. But then I realized how completely absurd everything was, not only me complaining about everything I had been through but also how it had all worked out not completely unlike some sort of legendary story.
And it had all worked out, somehow. I couldn't help but laugh at it, and it was the first really good laugh I'd had in a long while.

"Feel better?" Patrick asked.

I smiled at him. "Yeah, I guess so. But what do we do now?"

He looked admiringly all around us. "You're not okay with living here?"

"It's not that! I love this place, I really do!" I told him. "But, well, maybe that I seem to be done with EVA and all I'm just not sure what's supposed to happen next."

"Did you ever want anything before EVA?"

"Did you?"

"I wanted a real family," Patrick told me. "And I got that now. As far as the rest of life goes I'm not really sure but there's nothing wrong with exploring a bit. How about you? Was there anything you really ever wanted before?"

"A gold medal in gymnastics."

Patrick cocked his head. "Well?"

"No way," I told him. "Not anymore."

"Why not?"

"I'm too far away from that now," I said, with a resigned tone in my voice. "It's been like, what, a year since I've done any training and I'd have to start nearly from scratch after that much time off. Besides, back then I had my own private coach, and
my own private gym. I'm pretty sure they don't have good gymnastics programs out here in rural Maine."

Patrick hopped off the log and turned around, facing me. "But right now you've got nothing but time on your hands, you're certainly not weak, and there's no one around to tell you 'no,' is there?" He meant Dad, of course, as no matter how good I ever
ways Dad never let me compete. Dad wasn't around now to object, was he?

I still didn't say anything but Patrick stepped forward and stood right in front of me. "Maybe it wouldn't be like it was for you before, but at least you'd know you gave it your best shot," he told me. "Besides, after everything you told me about this
part of you, I'd really like to see you try."

"You would, huh?"

"I think you'd be happy, even if you didn't go very far. I know I'd be happy."

"Seeing me compete?"

"No, but I'd be watching you wear leotards every day and I could definitely deal with that," he said with a smirk.

"You pervert!" I shouted and slammed my brother hard against his head as I jumped off the log. I hit him a few more times too until we both busted up laughing. Such a tease he was.

Despite his lecherous adolescent mind Patrick was right, if I'd ever get a chance to get back my childhood dream it was going to be now. I didn't want any more regrets in my life, I had too much already. But how to go about chasing my dream again?

The next morning I woke up early, changed into a t-shirt and leggings, and found a patch of grass outside the house. Before I got started I checked to be sure I was alone, and then spent the next forty-five minutes giving myself the best stretchout that
I possibly could on the cool grass outside the lake house.

It felt strange going through what used to be my daily routine, and found I could still do some things but others, like the splits, took some work and was painful as heck. But I needed to warm up nice and good to truly test my current abilities and see
if this was all really hopeless or not.

Once I felt warmed up and limber I stood back up and then just looked at the grass in front of me, concentrating on what I would need to do. What used to be a simple flip now seemed like defying gravity. If I could at least get that part back, I told
myself, there was still hope. I arched my back and put both my hands up, and then let myself roll into it.

The first attempt didn't go well, and found myself flung to my side as I lost my footing. Undeterred, I stood back up and tried it again, and again. On the sixth or seventh try I was able to fully flip over 360 and land on my feet, something I had not
struggled with since I was six.

Elated to pass that test, I then moved up to multiple flips, first two, then three, then up to six in a row. Shockingly I was able to do it, and I could feel it all coming back. What had worried me most about trying gymnastics again after a year off was
whether or not I had lost muscle memory, as things that were so natural to me now seemed daunting. But after being able to keep somersaulting without losing balance and falling over was a big relief.

I needed one more test to make this work, and moved over to a fence nearby. It was wooden and not very smooth but figured I needed to at least try it and bounded up to the top rung of the fence. Taking a few steps at a time, I steadied myself and wondered
if my beam skills were still available to me. Arching my back, I stretched and went backwards and tried to somersault my way behind.

Again I found myself tossed to the ground, but I wasn't going to let go that easily. Bouncing up again to the top plank of the fence I tried it again, this time facing forward to give myself a little easier approach. I leaned forward and then pushed myself
onto the wood in front and then flipping over, landing on my feet again with a huge bobble. It was then when I heard someone say "wow!" and I turned around to see Patrick standing on the grass.

"Damn, sis, you didn't tell me you were that good?"

"You kidding me," I said to him as I jumped down from the fence. "This is shit compared to what I could do."

We approached each other as he thought about my performance. "What do you think?"

I looked back at the fence I had just somersaulted over, knowing that I had crossed a hurdle. "It felt good. Super sloppy, but good."

Patrick then put his hand on my shoulder and smiled. "Then go chase it, Tiger!"

I spoke to Maria about finding a gym and a coach and while she didn't really know anything about gymnastics she did suggest going to Lake Arrowhead and trying the county recreation department to see if they had anything like a gym program. It was a start.

The good thing about my house arrest conditions were that if anything was education-related it qualified as an excuse to go away from the house just as long as I kept a distance from anything EVA-related. That meant I couldn't go into or anywhere around
Cambridge, Massachusetts where the former NERV First Branch was, but the town of Lake Arrowhead was far away from that. It was however a small place with few children living there, so my hopes weren't high that I'd find anything there.

One afternoon Maria drove the three of us to town and together we found the community center. We walked inside and looked around: it was an old gymnasium for what had once been a high school, now relegated to after-school activities for kids and other
events for senior citizens. We found an office where a older woman showed us a schedule of activities, "GYMNASTICS" was listed on the paper at 4:00 that afternoon. There was no other description.

So we waited until just before four and then found the "gymnastics" class: a collection of four- and five-year-olds doing tumbling on foam gym pads, taught by a nice but sort of strange middle-aged lady. Well, that wasn't going to work. The group of us
decided that this hadn't panned out and were about to leave until the administrator lady suggested I could also talk to Miss Keiko. At the mention of that Patrick's eyes brightened up, as he had little chance to speak to anyone Japanese since returning
to the USA.

We found Miss Keiko teaching a class of senior citizens physical exercises and waited patiently until she was done with the class. "Miss" wasn't quite representative, as she was about fifty years old, petite with long black hair and wearing a tight black
top and black leggings with runners, and she had a figure that indicated she was still in good physical shape.

"Hi," I introduced myself to her after her class ended. "The office said I could speak to you about gymnastics."

"Oh, really?" she replied, speaking slightly accented English. She looked me over and then said "I guess you're not going for the Tumbling Tots program, are you?"

I smiled and laughed just a little. "No, miss. Actually, I'm looking for a gym to train for competition. Do you know of anything around here?"

"Here, no, I'm afraid. For a good gym you'll need to go to Boston or that area." That was the answer I didn't want to hear.

"I can't go to Boston, or Cambridge," I told her. "Um, I'm not allowed."

"Not allowed?! How are you not allowed?"

At that point Patrick intervened and greeted her again, this time speaking Japanese. Surprised at first to hear him speak, Miss Keiko and Patrick engaged in a short conversation as he explained our situation to her, although I guess my brother probably
left out the parts about us being EVA pilots. Afterwards Miss Keiko addressed me again.

"Okay, let's talk. How long did you train for?"

"Eight years," I told her.

"What level did you reach?"

"I never reached a level," I confessed. "My dad paid for the coaches and lessons but never let me compete."

"That's quite unusual," Keiko pondered. "Look, maybe I could help, but it's been years since I've actually taught gymnastics of any kind. I'm not unwilling but I'd have to know you're serious about this."

"What if I prove it to you?"

"Alright. This place used to be a high school gymnasium and they still have the spring floor. Perhaps I could see you there."

After a few minutes we found the floor area, it was not in great shape but at least it was there and working. Then I properly warmed up, still wearing the t-shirt and leggings I came in with. I had no chalk and was going barefoot but I had to give this
the best shot I could. After I finished stretching out I signaled to Patrick and he queued up a music file on his phone and attached a small speaker as I walked out to the center of the spring floor.

For the next four minutes I did a floor routine that I had practiced for the last two weeks at home. With no gymnastics apparatus available, floor exercise was all I could work with and I still remembered much of what I was taught back in Nevada. I bounced,
flipped, and tumbled to the music playing out of Patrick's makeshift audio system as Miss Keiko silently watched. My performance was sloppy and rusty as hell but I tried my best and hoped for the best, and at the end of the routine I stood and waited
as she thought a moment to herself. I didn't have a good feeling about it but tried to smile nonetheless.

Keiko took a long sigh and then gave me her honest evaluation. "You've got good skills but you're very out of practice."

"I know. I took a whole year off. I got kind of sick and stuff."

"Well, you've got potential, I can see that," she remarked. "Getting back to speed would take a while for you, and you're at that age where you're still growing and maturing."

"I know I don't have much time," I told her, "but I never got to complete until now. I just want a chance."

"Does it matter how you compete?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Let me explain," said the coach. "If you start now, the gymnastics federation rules are that you can't start any higher than Level Four."

More bad news. "Level Four? That's kid's stuff! I'm way past that!"

"I realize that from watching you," Keiko continued. "But those are the federation rules and they don't make very many exceptions."

"How long would it take me to reach Elite?"

"You couldn't jump more than one level a quarter, so you're looking at two years."

My voice shot out in exasperation. "Two years?! I'll be nearly seventeen by then!"

"Exactly," said the coach, "and even then at the lower levels you're in competition against girls that could be half your age, with skill sets far below what you know now. It would be several steps back for you."

At that moment gravity finally set in. "Then I'm screwed," I said, knowing that the dream was dead after all. I closed my eyes and shook my head, feeling terrible. I really had wanted this, and now the door had been slammed right in front of me.

"Fine," I stammered, walking off the floor towards Patrick as he handed me my hoodie sweatshirt. "I guess it wasn't going to work anyway."

"You haven't let me finish yet," Keiko continued. Without saying anything further I put on my sweatshirt and listened.

"You took a year off," she told me, "and getting back to speed for this is going to be hard. It's worse on apparatus, as it's not just recovering your skills but also your safety I'm concerned with. You're used to doing advanced routines and you'll struggle
to get back you skills, but doing that also means taking a lot of chances. You're going to fall a lot."

"I had really good balance before," I commented.

"Perhaps, but getting back on beam will be very difficult after such a long absence. I actually don't suggest returning to artistic gymnastics," concluded Keiko.

The dream really was dying now and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, despite my own swearing to myself that I'd never cry again.

"But that's all I know," I protested.

"I watched your performance out there on the floor and despite being out of step a few times I could tell your training was very strong," said Keiko. "Most girls don't like floor exercise yet you took to it very well."

"I've always liked floor."

"Then have you ever considered Acro?"

"Acro? You mean acrobatic?" Acrobatic gymnastics was the "old style" of the sport before there were balance beams and uneven bars, made up of tumbling skills that resembled cheerleading more than anything else. "I've never done it."

"Acro Gymnastics is actually like a more advanced form of the floor exercise, using many of the skills but more dynamic and aggressive, and much more creative. If you want to get back into the sport you should concentrate in an area that you have a strength
in."

"But I'd then be starting from zero," I told her. "Wouldn't I have the same problem here as with regular 'nastics?"

"Because Acro is trying to become a more popular sport their federation has different rules for the gymnasts," Keiko told me. "Unlike artistic where you have to follow set levels, Acro is more free-form and you can start competition at a higher level.
With some training we could start you further up."

I had to admit it sounded attractive, a new option that I had not considered. "Did you coach this before?" I asked.

"In Japan, yes, years ago. I'm currently retired since I left Japan but for a good student I would be willing to try this again. There's something else." Keiko motioned towards Patrick. "Is he also a gymnast?"

"Who, me?" asked Patrick. "Um, I don't fit into the little costumes."

"Ha, ha," I said sarcastically. "No, miss. He's good at a lot of stuff but not this."

But Keiko seemed very interested in my brother anyway. "Erin," she asked, "do you think he could lift you?"

"Oh, yeah," I said enthusiastically, "We horse around at home all of the time." I was true, as Patrick and I would climb trees outside of the lake house, and it wasn't at all unusual for him to give me a boost upwards. Patrick was actually quite strong
for his age.

"Can you show me?"

Both Patrick and I shrugged our shoulders, unsure of where this was going. But just like back at home I let Patrick give me a boost by lifting me up by the feet with his right hand and he quickly brought me to stand on his shoulders. He stood carefully
while I balanced myself, then I even showed off a little by going to just one foot and lifting my other leg high in the air. I then plummeted downward and Patrick caught me in his arms in a basket catch, neatly setting me back on my feet. Miss Keiko
seemed pleased as punch.

"Wonderful!" she said. "Just perfect."

We were beginning to see just where this was headed, "Um, look," Patrick told the coach, "I'm not doing cheerleading."

"This isn't cheerleading," Keiko said, gleeful to find not just one but two new students. "This is mixed-pairs Acro."

"Mixed-pairs?" I asked, "as in boy-girl?"

"Yes! Patrick," she explained to my brother. "Think of this as pairs figure skating but no ice."

"But silly costumes…"

"Patrick, shut it," I carped back to him, and then turned back to the coach. "This is an actual sport?"

"It is, and I coached it in Japan for several years before coming to the USA. And then you two come walking right in here in the middle of nowhere. Miss Erin," she told me, "if you want to really complete, and even have a chance to win something important,
I think I can help!"

Suddenly I felt better about my chances than ever before, even better than when I was little. It just depended on one thing. "Hey," I said to my brother. "What do you think? Really?"

Patrick at first wanted to make some other kind of smart remark but I looked at him with a serious glint in my eye, and knew me well enough even now to know what I really meant and wanted. Standing there and giving the whole matter some consideration,
he looked at me and finally said "I suppose this beats piloting."

"I suppose not quite as dangerous," I quipped. "But really, are you in?" He gave me a look, and then just a quiet nod. Patrick was often frivolous and rarely serious, but if he managed to actually shut up about a subject I knew he meant it.

With a broad smile I turned to my new coach. "So, when do we start?"

After another long absence we're finally back, I seem to have an incredibly active life with family and work keeping me quite busy. Nonetheless I've found the time and here we are with another chapter as Erin and Patrick deal with "life after EVA." EVA is not entirely done with them yet, however.

The original plan with The Other Side of Me was to end this story at 20 chapters, we may go to extend just a couple more as plans to do a short story centered on the new cast ensemble will be folded into this story instead. That means a likely completion date of Spring 2018. I still have designs on a last story to wrap up the Patrick/Rei relationship that should fill out the rest of next year. So we're looking at something like 200k words on this story, and perhaps another 200k on the last one. If that works out, that means Blue Rose stories will be up ta a solid Million words. Wow.

On another note like a lot of you I'm still disappointed that it's taken over five years to get a new Evangelion film out of Khara. We're told that it's in progress, but the anticipation is painful. Hopefully we'll see some further news on this project soon.

Thanks again for everyone's support and we'll see you soon with the next installment.