(Joy)

The pale scarred disc of the moon hung low above us, its grey surface pockmarked with eons' worth of craters.

I knew that they continued in even greater number on its far side, which had taken numerous impacts instead of the earth – but those marks lay unseen in the dark, just like the wounds of the heart that cannot be seen from without.

Its cold radiance seemed so much closer from here, but I knew of course that it was just a trick of the light, of the angle, of the air and the pollutants within it bending the paths of the light.

We had in fact only imperceptively got closer to it by the most insignificant, infinitesimal increment, even way up here on the scaffolds next to our respective EVAs.

We each sat on a metal scaffold next to our respective units, parted by a chasm almost as deep as their colossal height, and yet, somehow, surprisingly, close enough to hear each other – the thin mountain air between us was still enough to carry sounds between us.

"...Ayanami? I- I'm sorry. Again. I really shouldn't have said that thing earlier, about you not having to go through tough things – of course, you did. I wasn't thinking straight – or at all. I was just too caught up in my own hurt to see what was happening around me. I really should've been more considerate…"

"It's fine."

"No, it isn't- I was just, jealous, or, I jumped to conclusions. I just didn't understand how you could be so calm after you'd been put through so much danger already…-

I guess what I wish I knew is, where does it come from, that faith of yours? What keeps you going, despite everything? What's your reason? Why do you pilot the EVA?"

What a question.

What could I possibly answer to this?

I had to pause and think here.

It's not a question I'd ever been asked and left to ponder, because it had always been clear that there was no other choice, from the moment I was created – and how could I explain why creation? Where would I even begin, when it hinged on so many things that I could not have explained within a reasonable timeframe even if I were permitted to disclose them.

He and I were creatures from different worlds, while the limited words and skills of expression available to me were woefully inadequate to bridge even an inch of the gaping chasm.

Were it up to me, I would have said nothing, for the prospect of it seemed a bleak, insurmountable obstacle to fruitlessly break one's knuckles against.

He was but a few meters away, really, but in truth, the spheres we moved in just barely overlapped in this superficial slice of reality, scattered moments of being contained in the same room. I honestly didn't want to say anything at first, I expected that it would not avail much.

And yet, he had asked me, taking his place as one of the very few sentient beings to ever take an interest in what may be inside of me.

I was aware, of course, that he must have done so in the mistaken belief that I had something here which may soothe his longing for companionship.

He knew not that I only looked like a person, and badly at that – it's likely that it was only desperation that made him overlook the 'peeling paint', so to speak.

Still, he had asked, and that, perhaps, set some contrarian force into motion, some long disowned stirring of longing. Had you asked me right then I would have said that I had simply followed his request, but a minimal, noncommittal answer would have served that end as well.

Instead, I thought about it, looking for a what that I might phrase it without mentioning that which I could not explain, while still being as truthful as I possibly could.

Sure, I could have simply said that I did it because I was ordered to, but that would not really cut it – he had been ordered to as well, and yet he'd tried to flee, futile as it may have proven.

I I knew more about the workings of the organization than he, so if I so pleased, I could probably orchestrate an even more effective flight than he had. I would die of course, even if they did not catch me. Without maintenance, calibration sessions or my proper medication. I'd have but a few weeks – months, at most. Then again, with the present state of the world, every single one of us could be considered to have a short life expectancy.

And I know that rules and orders are not dictates from the heavens – you could choose to break them, so long as you are willing to pay the price. I'd read of such tales in books, where sometimes the characters had chosen freedom over bondage. So why didn't I do that? Why did I keep showing up as was expected?

It was a nonsensical scenario of course, but to answer this question, it may be worth contemplating at least in theory. First of all, there was the certainty of pain. I wasn't such an idealist to find some concept such as 'freedom' to be a comfort in and of itself. It was just a word – besides, while I might have something to run away from, I had nothing to run towards. No place to belong, no glimmer of hope to turn to anywhere in this world.

If I died before Third Impact, they might bring me back, but it was likely that Commander Ikari would never treat me – or rather the new me – with any sort of affection again. I'd be strictly guarded and controlled, and may never again be allowed the peaceful solitude of just existing in my apartment or roaming the city on my own.

Besides, I was needed – what of his plan, and its benefit to the people? Or, if no such benefit existed, what of SEELE and the Angels, who would confer yet worse fates.

What would I be running towards?

A cold, lonely end hiding away in some abandoned warehouse, hidden from and forsaken by all, spitting up bits of pieces of my disintegrating insides? That didn't seem an improvement.

So it follows that I did not run because there was, in fact, something here that I would be leaving behind if I left.

Not very much, but not nothing.

There was a sense that I was of use, and in that sense, making an impact, having some minor, meager significance, even in my suffering.

There was the Commander's occasional attention. Those moments when the class representative might remember me like I was just another girl.

Next to nothing, but not quite nothing.

I told myself that it was nothing, that it didn't matter, but yet when I thought of leaving what little crumbs had been thrown my way, something inside of me tensed. Hard.

Clinging on all the more to these scarce, scattered morsels for how rare and insubstantial they had been, yet seeing no way to change my lot nor any real alternative.

And thus I had my answer:

"...because ...it binds me."

That was about as well as I could put it.

I expected him to return a look of utter confusion, much like my classmates or the NERV staff often did. Instead, he actually inquired further:

"To my father?"

It was not surprising, that this was mostly what would interest him. But that was only one small, individual component of the network of bonds and mutual influences that shape a person, and thereby impact their nature and motivation:

"To all people."

I expected that to have concluded the exchange, but what he said next surprised me greatly:

"You are very strong."

It was spoken quite sincerely, with a wistful tone of resigned admiration – as one might contemplate that which one can never have, but cannot find the spite to envy.

I found it impossible to connect such a tone, let alone such a description with the object that I recognize as myself.

Is it strength if a safety bolt holds fast against pressure?

Is it strength for a machine part to clip into place?

"I'm only doing what I'm for. I have nothing else."

It was rather like the cheers of our fellow students as we marched out – there was no reason to suspect them of ill intent, but such praise meant nothing if it was based on false premises.

Is it strength to do that which one has no choice but to do?

"I have been a pilot for as long as I've existed – I was born for it, in a sense. If I stopped, there would be nowhere for me to go, nor would I have anything left. It would be no different from being dead."

Surely he must be repulsed now. Or just confused, lost as to what any of this might mean, outside of context.

So certain was I of this that I never threw a look into his face to confirm it.

So certain, that no other sentient creature anywhere on this planet could comprehend, since there was no other like me. That no one would even attempt to understand, since it mattered not what was inside of me – only my uses mattered.

How strange then, that he didn't ask, didn't question, didn't press me for further details on that strange unbelievable story that barely hung together in any form of coherent.

"No different, huh?" he mused, pensively, unfocussed gazed lost in the detail.

In his voice there was almost something like recognition: "I guess I was like that, too, before I came here."

I assumed he must be mistaken. A misunderstanding. An artifact of perception borne from the tendency of people to see themselves in others, to look for things to relate to. I was fully expecting the fracture to come, the clear difference, the proof that he did not comprehend anything at all – that all this had just been a sad attempt at a futile task so that I would have done better by keeping quiet.

Of course, he couldn't understand, not knowing all those things that were kept back from all but a select few.

But perhaps I had not been as helpless as I thought, in packing some essence of meaning into my clumsy words – and it was this that he was replying to, which became clearer and clearer as he kept talking:

"I hated everything. I was just totally apathetic. I just didn't care about anything – but I put up a quiet front, playing the good little kid. I guess maybe I was just going through the motions of living…"

It's true that, most likely, he just needed this off his chest before the oncoming ordeal, and I just happened to be there. But could I truly say that I had been doing anything else?

I had professed my belief in the Commander's work, but if I were truly certain, I could have said so quietly instead of making such as display right onto his poor, poor face.

I'd reacted because his inquiries had poked straight into my own doubt.

Try as I might, I did not have that much capacity for self-sustaining delusions: He was exactly right. It was probably not faith, but rather apathy that kept me following my orders. A going through the motions, a presented minimum of what was expected, so that once they had gotten what they wanted, I would be left alone. My entire life could have been described like that. Just giving them what they want, so they'd leave me in peace.

In that sense, it was actually very much true that he and I had something in common, differing as the specifics may be, the principle held: It didn't sound like there had been anything pleasant or noteworthy about whatever place he had come from. A simple existing, like a machine in a warehouse, covered with tarp.

He'd come here then for the very same reason that I dragged myself out of bed though I had little reason to expect much of anything: Because at least NERV needs us. At least NERV puts us to some use as anything other than hapless burdens that cannot do anything. We were needed to play our parts, to show up, to keep up appearances at school, and maybe, if we got lucky, a little bit of care and attention may just rain down upon us merely by accident – on us, who didn't have the home to inspire it by our own merits.

We were in the same boat indeed because, we both knew that for all their encouragement, the people of the organization saw us both as resources to spend.

I did not think that either Captain Katsuragi or the Commander took any joy in this, in truth, I doubted not that they would rather that we did not come to harm – the Commander still had the scars to show for that. Still, that changed not that we were their tools, and that they would work us until we broke.

In that sense, the Third Child and I could at least be said to have the kind of companionship that may exist between a coal miner and his trusty canary companion. Disparate creatures indeed, one far more caged than the others, but only slightly different in how expendable they were to the coal mining companies. He at least could quit his job, but where to go?

He'd tried to flee before, and deemed it futile in the end.

So it hung between us, in a sense – the awareness of something shared, and nothing to be done about it.

I acknowledged that fact, but, there was nothing I could think of saying or doing about it. Nothing would truly make a change.

I was not skilled at saying things, furthermore, I had no experience –

In the end, I seldom attempted to speak to anyone not just because there was no reason and no interest, but because I had nothing to say, and because I knew that, even if we were to speak, there could be no real understanding; Even if we were together, there could be no real togetherness. Only a distant, faraway coexistence that seldom extended past a clearly defined transaction.

Still, I was glad of it, sometimes, when anyone bothered to treat me with friendliness though they only needed me for my capacity as a pilot. Like the Commander for example. He could have been cool and instrumental same as Dr. Akagi, but he wasn't.

Or even the Third Child, though it was only our shared wretched circumstance that had brought us together.

But even knowing this, there wasn't anything I could do about it.

I knew not what to say, and besides, the wait before the battle was very nearly over.

"It's time. Farewell."

Tightly grasping the etui with the glasses in my right hand, I descended into my plug.

Clad in the towering armor of flesh, metal, and plastic that was Unit Zero, I crouched as the ready, hidden beneath the improvised shield that had been hastily stripped off the bottom of a spacecraft, yet ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

If all went exactly as planned, my intervention would not even be needed, but I knew better than to pin my expectation on any course of events that was not yet certain.

Best to postpone any hope or apprehension for after the dust settled – for now, all that was required of me was readiness and focus, and that's what I tried to maintain as I peered through the view in the shield with EVA 00's lone, great eye.

The steady announcements of the numerous technicians felt far away, my entire presence here more like the playing of an old familiar part I'd long since rehearsed.

I had gone over the battle plans many times in my mind before ascending the scaffold to board my EVA, even as I was ascending the stairs, I was playing it out.

In a sense, it was much as if I were only watching, Only playing out the scenario that had been laid out since time immemorial.

I wondered if the Third Child was going to be alright.

Then, as the deadline approached, I ceased the least of my thoughts, contracting all of my consciousness into uninterrupted concentration, leaving little room for anything else.

First began the distraction maneuvers – a small handful of lesser rockets meant to engage the enemy's defenses, make xem fire, keep xem transforming xemself and thus expose xier core.

The clock struck zero. The Third Child fired.

But it seems that our enemy has not been so preoccupied with xier drilling or our distraction shots as xir had appeared.

The buildup of energy at our location must have been to conspicuous after all – possibly before the trigger had even been pressed, a high-energy buildup was registered within the target.

The light of the enemy attack tangled with the ray of the positron cannon, warping its path by way of its own electrostatic attraction – the effect was slight, but, as a split-second defense, it proved successful.

The creature could not completely divert the beam – the blazing beam very much pierced xier crystalline flesh, and even with the fruit of life, xir was still subject to the forces of physics.

Xir malleable form spread itself out in a sudden burst of asymmetric spikes, the shift so quick and sudden that their cerulean color seemed to be dulling towards the end of the spikes, xier shapeshifting clearly stretched to some sort of limit.

Different as xir was from humankind, xier pained shriek still betrayed the kinship between our kindreds.

It took no joy in the poor being's suffering. Xir was doomed to play xier role every bit as much as we were. But there could be time for laments later on – right now, it was imperative or not to confirm whether or not we had wounded xem to death.

A few crater-like holes had opened up in xier surface. The images broadcast from headquarters zoomed in on refractions of xier core – still intact, alas.

All of me tensed in apprehension – we'd just told xem exactly where to find us. It was not hard at all to intuit what might come next. Instants after my thought, the being known as Ramiel was already folding xemself back together, cracks and holes fusing back shut like drops of connecting liquid.

Soon xir transformed again, no doubt getting ready for another shot.

The might that had taken us great preparation and an entire country's infrastructure to match came to xem so naturally, that xir could fire one such devastating shot right after another, even after taking a hit of all the strength that mankind's technology had been able to produce.

Our position had of course been chosen to give us the upper hand, to put us on higher ground to grant us a more favorable selection of angles to shoot from.

To hit us from below, the angel would have had to shoot precisely in between several mountains that left only a narrow path unoccluded between them.

This was why I did not move – the shield I was fitted with was unlikely to survive more than one blow, and this one, it seemed, had gone straight into one of the mountains between us.

I saw no reason to move and expose myself and the shield – which proved a fatal error.

I should have listened to my intuitions.

Before our stunned eyes, we all proceeded to witness one of those feats that seem the stuff of legends or fairy stories: An entire mountain melting away like butter in the sun, drips of molten rock flaring to the side like a poached egg in progress.

Half its volume was destroyed, but the angel's beam pierced through on the other side before the rest of the other half had molten down – I jumped to my feet as I had meant to, but I had been too late. All I could do was place the shield between the beam and EVA 00 as the divine light of punishment passed overhead.

The angel had been quick and precise in xier aim – even in xier pain, it had not let one bit of information go to waste and drawn precise conclusions from the angle, momentum, and composition of the previous strike.

But the planning put into the arrangement of the site had not gone to waste – only the topmost plateau at the summit had really been hit.

The makeshift command center still stood. Of the energy structure, only the last few stretches of cable were damaged, and replacements were underway – countless technicians stood ready to swoop in and reconnect them as soon as the temperature dropped low enough for their Hazmat suits to bear. Most fortunate of all, the positron rifle itself still appeared functional…

But when headquarters hailed the Third Child, he was unresponsive.

Though I remained alert and in place, somewhere in the background, I think I sensed a dread spike of cold when I considered the very worst… gazing up at what used to be the platform, I found EVA 01 convulsing in a pit of molten slag – it did not seem that badly damaged, however…

Soon, the intercom from headquarters confirmed it: He had sustained no serious injuries. Compared to the last time, much of the hostile beam's force had been dispersed by the distance and the mountain in between.

But it must have been far too close a reminder of the wretched ordeal that had nearly claimed his life just this morning.

The onboard cameras showed him cowering, shivering, arms wrapped around himself.

He was a human adolescent, not a glorified machine part especially bred for this purpose – of course, he was in pain. He had pushed himself valiantly, but, I supposed that this was the end of his willpower.

I knew what this meant. I had known it all along, in a sense.

I was already climbing up to the platform when the Commander gave the order for me to replace him, and I would have gone on to try and eject the plug, had it not been for a strong, confident voice bidding me to halt:

"Please reconsider!"

It was Captain Katsuragi. Not too long ago, I'd overheard her speculating that it may be best for him if he flees from this place – now, she was making an impassioned speech for us to let him continue.

What had changed, I wondered? What had passed between them, just before they'd shown up together at the site of deployment?

Perhaps nothing. I could not claim to understand people very well. Surely from a purely strategic standpoint, it was better to have two warriors than just one, but clearly, the Third Child was in no shape to serve as one -

No. That's not right. Perhaps it was because he'd heard the Captain's words, but he had ceased his trembling. Since she'd begun to speak, he had begun a slow, laborious crawl towards the discarded positron rifle.

I halted in my path, rather bringing my shield back into position – and just as I expected, the Commander approved Captain Katsuragi's request.

The Third Child had called me the strong one, but, I wondered then if he was not mistaken. All his pain and torment, all this terror, all this strong, suffusing feeling of a real authentic human with all his frailties, all his tenderness – and yet he'd pushed onward, even though he'd been given a real option to leave.

It seems like we were good for another shot.

But all the while, our foe had not been idle. Soon enough, another high-energy buildup was detected. The angel kept folding xemself into progressively more monstrous, star-shaped turns, no doubt preparing to blast the strongest attack at xier disposal straight down the path xir had previously cleared. Xir must have understood the direness of xier situation by now, and been quite conscious that xir could no longer afford to hold back – and neither could I.

Knowing full well that it might be my last conscious decision as this instant of myself, I hurled myself bodily into the path of Ramiel's beam and held up the shield, arms outstretched right in front of me, standing between Unit One and certain doom.

I was conscious, of course, that this could very well end with Unit Zero being melted into sludge, but at least then she would be released from the suffering of her bondage, as would I, I suppose, to the extent that I would be allowed to.

The loss of an EVA would be a blow to NERV's forces, but judging from the many ways in which he had surprised me today, I had faith enough that he could hold down the city until Unit Two would be brought over from Europe. Perhaps the third 'Rei Ayanami' would then rather fittingly be assigned to unit Three.

It was no concern of mine anymore.

Even with the shield in the way, the heat had come flooding in past its sides almost immediately, building swiftly to a suffocating degree.

It wasn't long until I was leaning against the shield more than I was holding it up, bracing all of mine and Unit Zero's very weight against the storm of flames as its panels broke apart around us.

It wasn't too long until there no longer was a shield, just the searing agony of flame.

Bracing for the end, I held tightly onto Commander Ikari's glasses.

My purpose had been fulfilled.

...is that the scent of air?

Without a doubt, there are all sorts of chemical smells mixed in, all sorts of reeks of rubber, sulphur and metal, but behind it, a note of balmy nighttime could still be made out.

How bizarre that is, when I ought to be in LCL.

How strange to be smelling anything, when I should be dead.

Everything ached, there was this incessant noise in my ears, and I was definitely still soaked and drenched, and yet there was no LCL but a few remaining pools by my hands and my ankles.

Was I the third clone already? Had they already lifted me out of the tank?

I strained to open my eyes, only to find the source of the noise. Somebody leaning above me, speaking agitated words.

"...Commander Ikari?"

Not it wasn't.

As soon as my eyes had focussed and adjusted to the dark, I immediately realized my error.

I was still in Unit Zero's entry plug. Still on that mountaintop – I had survived, somehow.

And here was the one person who would have been close enough to get to me first.

Not the Commander, but his son – and he was frantic. In a state. Overcome with emotion.

"Ayanami! Are you ok? Ayanami! Ayanami!"

Only when I sat up did his desperate calls relent, but just when I thought he might calm down, he found himself seized by another wave of… something, so moved as to be barely capable of looking me in the face.

His voice was unsteady as he spoke: "I'm so glad you're alright! Real glad!"

Then, of all things, he started crying, profusely, struggling to see past the glittering trails.

"You can't just- say stuff like that before we leave on a mission – like that you 'have nothing else' – it's just too sad… like how you always say 'farewell', like we're never gonna see each other again…"

I don't understand.

I'm not understanding anything about his reaction right now.

If he's here, doesn't that mean we won? So why would he be this worked up now?

Is he alright? Did I do something wrong?

Once again I got the sense that there was at least one very important puzzle piece here that I was failing to grasp.

"Why are you crying?"

He seemed incapable of replying by any other means than a handful of sobs.

Should I be comforting him? But how can I, when I don't understand the first thing?

Perhaps it would help if I specified?

"You were crying yesterday, too. In your sleep. I don't understand. Why are you so sad?"

He contradicted me with surprising intensity:

"That's not it! I'm crying 'cause I'm happy that you're alive!"

Happy…? But why-? Oh.

"That's- that's right. People do cry when they're happy as well. Now that you say, I think I've heard about it before, In a book. It's just that I've just never actually seen it before-"

It was just about then that it occurred to me how unnatural and stiff that must be sounding.

How wan and colorless I was when he could hardly contain himself.

I couldn't fathom what he must be thinking of me.

I was utterly lost. This wasn't like the usual interactions that NERV or at school where there would be a clear purpose or script to follow or a role for me to play. I had no idea how to act or what to say. My pale affectation of human behavior was at its end. There was no rule to follow, no order, no logical conclusion.

There were one or two courses of action that occurred to me, but I saw also how they might go wrong, give a wrong impression, or just seem terribly forced.

It occurred to me then that it was probably best to just go with the truth, to admit my confusion, and simply state my thoughts openly. That may seem forced or stilted also, but at least my true intention would be harder to misunderstand:

"I'm really sorry, I'm just not good at expressing myself in situations like this – I suppose I should be glad as well…"

Most people would be, I think, but I find it hard to find genuine joy in an existence such as this…

Yet he did not remark on this. Instead, he simply said this, radiating a deep, tender gladness from the bottom of his heart:

"Well, if you're happy, you could try smiling..."

That's when it hit me, bluntly.

It was almost a shock – I think it was due to the way that he was leaning into the blog, smiling softly, holding out a hand, his body angled much like the Commander's when he had come to get me after the incident.

The Third Child would have been protected from the suit, but when he extended his hand, the dark rubber covering his palms showed a clear discoloration.

It struck me that, the reason he was here, the reason that I myself was talking to him rather than stewing in superheated LCL, was that he must have acted quickly and desperately to get me free of Unit Zero.

All this display. All this agitated babbling, this entire cavalcade of emotion – that was because of me. Because he was glad that I was unhurt. Because he'd cared to spare me pain.

Because, the words we had exchanged had weighed heavy on his mind, so, he had wanted to relieve my suffering. And yes, there were things he didn't know, and other reasons compelling him to stay, or even pulling him to flee, but that didn't make it any more true that, even from the very beginning, at least a part of what he had wanted was to take my pain away.

Simply because he had seen it. Simply because I was there.

I'd never thought it particularly mattered if I was in pain or not, not at all, nor to anybody else.

One exception might be the Commander, but I knew he cared about me as a function of other things.

But the Third Child?

It seems that he'd only come to be simply because he knew what it was to be hopeless and unheard.

When he looked at me with such clear relief – when I cautiously grasped his hand…

I felt the strangest sense of warmth spreading through me, starting from the warmth of his hand, which could be felt even through the suit.

Certainly, his suggestion earlier might have planted the idea in my mind, but the corners of my mouth weren't simply following his words when they began curving upward.

Rather, at this point, it seemed to flow quite naturally from that odd, rippling warmth within me.

He returned the smile, looking upon me with tenderness and just the slightest smattering of red upon his cheeks – just like that, without prompting, something wordless had passed between us, a response that, once I saw it, sparked even more spreading circlets of delight.

How strange it was to think, that even one such as I could be understood.

That my presence, my life even, could be something that others are glad for, even if they don't know of its purpose.

That I could be looked at like this – he looked quite a bit, actually, to the point that I wondered again when he was planning to move.

"Is something the matter?"

"Eh- Nothing. Let's go. Can you stand?"

When I nodded in the affirmative, he helped me up and slung my arm over his shoulder, resolving to begin our march to safety.

I would have been content to ponder the events of the battle in silence, but it seems that he had something important to say, that he truly wanted me to hear.

"Listen, Ayanami…" he began, sounding almost resolute. "You and I, we- right now, we might not have anything but the EVA program, but as long as we're alive, there's still a chance that one day we'll be glad that we survived.

It might be far in the future, but, at least until then, let's live on. Together. Let's promise each other that we will survive. Even if we're walking down a black and empty street, if we go on together, one day we might find something – like the moon inside the darkness."

I'm not sure that I could reply anything to this, without making myself into a liar.

His sincerity was touching, beautiful even, though it was borne of the same tempestuous heart that had so carelessly aired his misgivings earlier, but he was speaking of a future that may never come… for what could we possibly find, in these fleeting days that remain?