(Relief)

You may be surprised at what people will say in front of you if they're used to you keeping quiet – be is because they've forgotten that you're in the room, or, because they felt a need to say it and didn't think to hold.

Perhaps because they've come to consider you part of the furniture, not as a person who is listening.

I know a thing or two about keeping quiet.

I had much time to learn to listen for when someone was approaching whatever portion of the laboratory they had left me in, to tell apart the rythms of their steps to have some chance of expecting who would be coming, what might be happening to me next, what to brace for, when to stay silent and let whatever may come simply pass ober me.

This, I heard many things here and there.

One of the chief topics in the whispered, half-implied exchanges in NERV HQ nowdays was the latest incident with EVA 01 – many who had long taken the flesh-like appearance of her components for granted while they were just something to be worked on were now unnerved to have seen her as a creature in motion, acting of her own accord.

The conversation between Majot Katsuragi and Doctor Akagi was no longer as playful or casual as it once had been. Once in a while, when the technicians weren't standing too near, the Major would be making some sort of half-finished remark, an implied question, an expression of disbelief.

Most of the time, the Doctor remained impassive, but when she was with the Commander, a rather different side of her emerged. Her steely voice took on rather more fearful tones.

Even knowing all the things that she could not disclose to her old friend, her faith in in the product of the project she had done so much to bring to completion appeared to be seriously shaken.

A few times, it seemed as if she was going to say something, but she stopped herself, suggesting that it was probably best discussed another time, not within my earshot.

It was strange to see her of all people suddenly begin to think of me, here and there, as someone who might have opinions.

Her concern was probably unmerited, however – in regards to the Evangelions and the instrumentality project, I had probably been told more than her in some respects.

But it was the Commander who held all the cards, who had made all of the choices of what to reveal to whom, and what to keep to himself – and he was almost preternaturally impassive, not in the least bit shaken by the news of what transpired.

He might have been wearing the thinnest possible smile upon his lips when he saw a recording of the incident in his briefing.

He did not appear fearful or doubting at all, nor even particularly surprised.

Could it be that he had faith in Unit One because of the soul of his wife?

Certainly, he had known her well once, but that was back when she was a human.

It was hard to imagine what it would do to a person to be trapped in a body that was so completely unlikely the one she was supposed to have, forced to lead an existence that would be unnatural to her in every way and subject her to limited freedom and many invasive procedures besides – it was not wholly inconceivable that her sentiments on her husband may have soured.

I suppose that the person who came the closest to being able to understand what Yui Ikari must have lived through was... myself, actually, or perhaps you might say that it was Lillith.

I suppose the Commander's faith in his wife might have been such that he would still trust her to be on his side even after such an ordeal.

She did seem to be sufficiently 'herself' to be capable of recognizing her son and want to protect him, though you would expect the maternal instinct to be one of the more primal, robust features in the psyche of not just a human, but of any mammal.

So this might not be saying much…

Though if that there in there truly was indisputably Yui Ikari, one could not help but consider what this might imply about myself and Lillith.

However you look at it, it seems now like a wasted opportunity that I did not know just who I was contact with when I was briefly placed inside Unit one for the cross-compatibility experiment.

There was much I might have asked of her.

One must wonder what she is thinking, what her opinion is of what had befallen during her absence, what hopes and aims she had, if any.

This person whose existence I had not even known of until Ikari-kun arrived here seems on all accounts to have been one of the more important players behind the creation of his world as I found it when I came into it, and from what we witnessed earlier, one might conclude that she was one of the most powerful players still – quite possibly, the single most powerful human being to ever have existed.

Just who was this woman?

What exactly was her role in all this?

The Commander maintained his usual taciturn silence and didn't deem it necessary to explain any more to to me than I would need for the performing of my immediate duties, yet he had given me one thing, a crucial, singular clue which he had handed to me for unclear purposes of his own.

In truth I had began to read through Yui Ikari's diary almost the moment that I had first received it, but soon, my progress through it had stalled out.

At that moment I was interested in her merely as the person to whom Commander Ikari had been married, or as the missing mother of a personal friend.

But I had little to do with Dr. Ikari herself: Her diary was a normal diary, or at least, that's how it began. It described a young idealistic prodigy from a wealthy background coming to an university and studying there, nothing more, nothing less.

I was waiting for any sign that Commander Ikari might show up soon, to learn about him more than anything else, but for long, the only name I really recognize was that of Fuyutsuki, who had apparently been a mentor of hers in her studies.

All the sun-drenched going-ons of her life were perfectly irrelevant to me, from her studying of since-revised theories to her socializing with people who must be long gone from this earth.

Most of what I was reading of had no connection to me, nothing I could connect to – it was almost like going through a relic from a completely different world, a fuller, brighter world from before the Second Impact, where such sad beings as myself would never have needed to be created.

I had nothing to do with that world – I had nothing in common with that woman, indeed she could scarcely have been more different from me: It seems she was unfailingly optimistic, filled with unwavering idealism and easily able to charm anyone who crossed her path, to see through them into their hearts and put them at ease with a calming presence.

She was as a goddess walking in beauty, in a distant past world like an unstained garden.

Hearing of her was just too sad, and sobering, and it left me listness and uniterested to proceed.

Now I was not one who expects to see one's likeness in the texts they read.

It would have to look far and wide to find anything written by anyone resembling me in all the world – besides, it was exactly the ability to observe and learn about other people's thoughts and perspectives as if from a distant bird's eye view that made reading so interesting to me.

I loved to dissappear into those different times and places, observing them in a fashion that left me, for a moment, liberated of being what I was right here right now as a flawed and limited being, as a pure, uninvolved consciousness like a bird's eye view camera floating above all.

It shouldn't have mattered that Yui Ikari was nothing like me, if she truly was a perfect stranger.

But she wasn't that, really.

She was a being whose absence I had been called into this world to fill, one whose lasting wake I had long witnessed though she herself had since disappeared far beyond the distant horizon – if she had not dissapeared, I never would have been created, and that made it hard to forget about myself at all as I thumbed through the records of her memory.

No, it was even more than that: She was as the sun, central, all-moving and above all truly singular, an existence so precious that the wounds left by her dissappearance.

By all accounts irreplaceable.

Meanwhile, there had already been a 'Rei Ayanami' before me, and her passing had gone all but unnoticed, unmarked, making no difference on this world at all but in leading to my activation, and I had little reason to think that my case would be any different when the time should finally come for me to be extinguished.

This 'Yui Ikari' was everything I'm not; And that would already have been the case no matter what she turned out to be like, but the untouchable completeness of the life captured on these diary pages was just adding insult to injury. In a way this would have been a whole lot easier, if she had done me the favor of not being exactly everything I feared she would be. If she could have stood to be just a little bit less perfect. There just a came a point where I didn't want to hear it any more...

Now I thought that I might do well to revesit the journal, to find out more about this person on her own account, for it seemed to me that the fate of everything on this earth might one day be depending on her…

I still carried the journal in my bag though my interest in it might have fizzled out, simply because I had never come to a formal decision to abandon it.

It might have gone to read it then and there, if it had not been for the appearance of a sudden sound just as I was about to open my satchel to retrieve it: The noise came from my phone, I had set an alarm to remind me of the visiting hours at the medical wing.

I had featured in the fiften-odd minutes that it would take me to get there using all the elevators, escalators and others means of transport I would have to take in between, but I would have to leave now.

The memoirs of Dr. Yui Ikari would have to wait a little longer – my thoughts were set on other things for now.

I believe the nurse on duty meant to gently discourage me from going in.

She explained that Ikari-kun was still resting and would probably not be much of conversation, let alone whatever activities and diversions 'kids are into these days'.

I do not think that I knew much more about those than the nurse, nor had I been expecting to engage in them. I did know what had befallen. I was there when it happened.

Perhaps my wanting to come anyway wasn't quite congruent with the commonly agreed-upon idea of what such a visit would be for.

To do some pleasant activities that the visitor had been longing to do? To offer the supposed comfort of company to the one being visited, which required them being awake?

I couldn't say.

Did I find it a comfort when the Commander had come to visit me after my accident for example?

I suppose so, but I could be missing the point.

I had seen it depicted differently in different texts.

In any case, I wasn't here to reenact something I had seen or read about.

I was here for reasons of my own, and I cannot say if they are like normal human reason – it might even be that they are! But it didn't matter.

I was here simply because I wanted to be, because I'd realised I could.

Thus, I asked simply if my presence would be to the detriment of his recovery, and once she said that it probably wouldn't, I was determined to stay.

I didn't need Ikari-kun to receive or entertain me.

I didn't even need him to acknowledge my presence or do anything else at all.

Simply seeing him alive, with the color of life still in his face, would be enough.

After all, it had been less than I day since I had given up on ever doing that again.

Asking little of the world may not guarantee that you will get your small wishes, or even that you'll be spared from the feeling of deprivation, but there was one shred of wisdom or of victory still entailed there:

If I had received more than I had ever dared to hope for, I would be sure to treasure it.

Evolution fashioned the human animal not to be joyful, but to stay ever-chasing and retain the imprints of horrible things while everything acceptable faded with time into the background, and yet, I was making the choice now to be grateful for what had fallen into my hands though there was no reason to expect that it would.

And I would not even pretend that this lucky break was probably going to inspire me to change everything about my life, to act as I never had before and make the most of what was still left in my hands; I knew better than to make any plans or promises that would require the dissipation of all my present solid limitations;

But right now, I was here, and I would treasure being here.

I was pointed toward the room, and so I entered, wordless and without a sound.

Ikari-kun was still resting, much as I'd been told, and I had not the slightest intention of rousing him – if he woke up then he did, and if he didn't, then I would just pull one of those folding chairs up to the bed and remain there, keeping my vigil.

After all, he wasn't dead – this meant he could wake up some other time.

Going inside I saw in passing his outline under the blanket and the messy tuft that was his hair, which had presumably been left to dry in in bed, but I allow myself to process the whole of what I was seeing until I came close enough to take a good, long, uninterrupted look at him.

He was motionless, but in a still way, not the undone, tension-less limpness of someone who's dead or unconscious.

Both the sheets and his shirt evidencenced previous movements through their crumples.

I sat down, as I'd intended.

I only spent a moment sirveiling his delicate form.

I listened intently to confirm the soft sound of his breathing.

The time passed.

But I had nowhere else so be right now, nowhere else I wanted to be, and the time would have passed anyway, wherever I was.

After a while, I considered taking Yui Ikari's journal from my bag again. I had to think for a moment where I'd last stopped – not in the physical book, I had marked that – but rather in the story.

It had been a while since I picked it up.

The last thing I recall, some over-enthusiastic bespectacled friend of hers had been looking to introduce her to a certain Mr. Rokubungi, citing that their research went in compatible directions.

This wasn't clear from said friend's words, insofar as they were relayed, but somehow Dr. Ikari – or well, just Ms. Ikari back then – had deduced from within the lines that her friend thought this man was something of a loner and could use a bit of company, a benevolent scheme that Ms Ikari herself was however not disinclined to participate in.

Fuyutsuki, then still her professor, had advised her against the meeting, claiming that the fellow had a dubious reputation and was likely to be interested only in getting his hands on the group's research funding.

I had little interest in yet another personal intrigue involving a random person who might not show up again and whose inclusion might not move the string of events any closer to the parts I was interested in, but I found it easy to imagine that whoever this man was might just prefer to be alone and might rather feel annoyed or patronized by such 'charity'. That was a trait that had irked me from the first of the journal's author: She seemed to be so very certain that she knew what's best for everyone.

But there I stopped myself, thinking I ought to take a step back and try again to look at this objectively, like it was just any other story and Ms. Ikari just another person. The interlude with this Rokubungi perso could show we something of her priorities, right? The information I wanted.

I couldn't let my view of her be clouded by some indirect connection or sentiment, seeing everything anyone does as nefarious simply because the person was disliked.

I did not even know her. If I had met her outside of this context, I might find her as lovely as everybody she seemed to come across.

I knew this normally, it was an obvious thing to consider.

But it was much easier to remain unbiased about things that did not directly involve me.

I had been used to staying uninvolved in most things, so this is a new and uncomfortable experience that makes me unusually reluctant to continue….

I noticed a rustle then.

Putting down the book, I turned toward its source, and found that Ikari-kun was awake, his light eyes looking at me in wide surprise.

Clearly he was recognizing me and responsive, and dynamic – there was no sense of delay or the sort of looks of confusion or hanging, paralyzed face-parts that might coincide with brain damage or the like.

It was one of his same, familiar expressions, the same demeanor as always, no different than when I spoke to him before the battle.

With his usual self-consciousness, he sat up and straightened himself as soon as he saw me, wishing perhaps to acknowledge by presence, or avoid the impression that he wasn't paying due attention.

I do not think that even I needed to ask if he understood me – he was really back, wholly and completely.

It wholly registered to me when I saw him moving as a whole, or the subtle shifts in his facial expession, his body not just warm and living, but clearly animated.

I had confirmed what I came here to see, so I got up from my chair.

Ikari-kun followed me with his eyes, still wearing a look of surprise.

I supposed he must be wondering what is going on, or if he is expected to do anything more.

He might still be confused about what exactly happened.

I expected that he would be debriefed when the physicians deemed him ready for that.

For now, I said this:

"You can stay in bed for today. The rest of us will take care of everything."

"I'm fine though," he remarked, perhaps trying to be brave, or keep me from worrying.

I had already walked halfway past his bed, but I stopped then, turning back for a minute, findly taking stock of his expression, the slightly awkward wy he was sitting there, his voice, his everything.

The confluence of all of it together, every part of it, filled me with something like a warm, appreciative gentleness.

"Is that so? I'm glad to hear it."

I really was. Really really.

Glad that he'd lived, glad he was here, glad our paths had crossed…

I do not know what it was about that phrasing, it was really the way the words came to my mind, but as soon as I had spoken, I noticed Ikari-kun taking in a sharp inhale, his eyes widening –

He didn't say anything, I probably would have missed it if I hadn't been looking at his face, and under other circumstances, I might have thought nothing of it.

If it had not been for certain other conversations.

"...what is it? Are you noticing something again? Like something you remember?"

He slightly shook his head, perhaps before thinking, though what he said next was not exacly a denial, more like a decision, gaining formness as he spoke:

"It doesn't matter. I am here, right now, and that's what important. Here and now is what I should be paying attention to, not some other place with some other person… Actually, I…

I'm really glad I saw you again. You, and Misato-san, and I everyone else.

I'm glad I made it back."

So that's how he was chosing to interpret it for now.

"I see. The same is true for me. I'm glad about that as well."

And then I walked on, judging that everything had been said.

Though there was one more surprise waiting for today, to be discovered on the way out.

When the door to the hallway slid aside, I was met witch the sight of the Second Child, standing inches from where it had been, like a cleaner fish pressed to the wall of an aquarium.

That was somewhat surprising.

She ducked right out of the way and bolted across the corridor, but I do think that Ikari-kun saw her – I heard him stiffling a chuckle right behind me.

I only saw her for a moment, so I can't say with confidence if she was eavesdropping, or if she might have been considering to visit herself but wrestled with the decision – either way it was certainly unexpected given the sheer indifference that she had previously expressed toward Ikari-kun's fate.

I'd compared her to a chimpanzee, but, those animals, though competitive, are not without their gentler traits. If one of their number expresses distress, it is common for other pack members to comfort them with touch and soothing vocalizations.

Though she might not account it as anything precious, it was probably unlikely for her not have at least some token attachment to someone she lived with every single day.

I was in a more sober, calm frame of mind now in which it was hard to reconstruct the heat that had nearly driven me to get into an altercation, so I was content to let her go wherever she would and do what she might.

I could only conclude that I understood her, and by extension human beings, even less than I thought I did.

But I was beginning to think that this might not matter so much in the end.

I would continue to exist here as I was, being whatever I was, and let her be whatever she is.

That's all I really can do, after all.