DISCLAIMER FROM 2024

At the encouragement of my readers, some of whom have followed me for twenty years, I have decided to reupload my old fanfiction stories. I do this with some reservations. I wanted to revise them before posting them again, but the sheer amount of words involved means that that would take me years to accomplish, and it would be better for me to focus on writing new stories instead. Maybe someday I'll go back and make the edits, but for now, I'm reposting everything, warts and all. So expect characters to be out of character, expect nonsensical sections, and expect there to be many grammar, punctuation, and spelling mistakes.

In addition, please understand that the story you have in front of you was written by a very different person. I was a teenager who was raised on 90's media, who lived in an abusive household and in a white conservative town. I was steeped in problematic beliefs and had an equally troubling sense of humor. Anything I wrote before 2010 will reflect that.

However, my understanding of the world has grown since then. I'm an adult now, out of the closet and firmly politically left. I'm also much better at my craft these days. It makes me cringe to think about how my earlier writing must have hurt some of my readers.

That being said, these stories were also ones that people loved and missed. If they can still make someone's day brighter, that's worth something. Maybe they can even inspire others by showing them how much someone's writing can grow with time and practice. Plus, my younger self worked hard on these. Even the darkest ones comforted her during a difficult time in her life. So maybe I owe her something better than burying her words.

So, without further ado, welcome to my old fanfics! You're in for a messy and melodramatic experience. As always, I hope you enjoy the read.

STAND IN THE RAIN

Des-ti-ny (des'te ne) n., pl, -nies: 1. The seemingly inevitable succession of events;2. (One's) fate.

Rei Ayanami savored the rain. It meant the blotting out of the sun, the giver of life, which proved painful to her vulnerable crimson eyes, risked skin cancer to her skin in its lack of pigment. Rain meant the world was washed afresh, anew, the scent of ozone pleasant to her nose. Rain meant the sound of droplets against her windows, the building she lived within, so soothing to her ears as she drifted off to sleep. Rain meant cool temperatures, the tingling feeling as the droplets struck her flesh, making her clothes and hair cling to her skin, wet and heavy.

Rain, someone had once commented, were the tears of angels. But for what did such truly destructive beings cry for? For whom? The loss of so many lives in recent months? While she had heard the storms following the Second Impact had been horrendous, it was though God had been wrathful, not weeping with sorrow over the strike He Himself had dealt. So the statement that the rain was angel's tears did not compute with the realistic proof against it, or with science in itself that had proved the facts that made up the water cycle.

Yet, it was a beautiful sentiment nonetheless. After all, this rain was gentle, quiet, like sadness in itself.

Unlike her, everyone else ran in the rain, not wishing to become saturated – an ironic thing, because in running, one struck many more droplets in such haste than if one had walked in the first place. Even with the difference in time, if two people started from the same point and headed towards the same destination, the one who went slowly came out drier. Hence, for her own mild pleasure and through reason, the pilot of Unit-00 walked to the café where she was to meet with the Third Child, now that school had let out.

When she arrived, ten minutes late due to her casual pace, she found him sitting outside the small toffee colored building, on the bench beneath the showcase window. Above it was a protective retractable awning, used in case the shop was handing out free samples of various new candies for loyal and new customers alike, keeping everyone in the cool shade. Or, in this case, from the precipitation. The owner had been perplexed when the male youth had insisted he would wait outside, and had been kind enough to extend it halfway to shield Shinji Ikari from the downpour. With the twin pastries and cups of de-caff coffee the boy had bought, it was the least he could do. Furthermore, students such as the teenager were his main income. It would not do to treat them without hospitality! Besides, the man had learned firsthand what a small, simple act of kindness could do. His little café, founded on a loan from a friend, was proof enough of that!

At any rate, the girl sat down beside her fellow pilot and silently took the frosted, fruit-filled pastry and the coffee he handed her. Both were still warm. They ate and drank without a word after their initial greetings to each other, and as the boy finished, he sat back, watching her. She was soaked! Little crystals droplets dripped from her wolfish hair, down her arms and face. She took tiny, delicate bites, enjoying the rare, sweet treat. Cherries. She was learning to truly savor them. These meetings were a much anticipated part of her week, brightening up her dull Fridays considerably. Indeed, after she too had finished the sweets, she thanked him, her body language indicating pleasure where her expression did not.

"You're welcome. But Ayanami…did you walk all the way here in the rain? Don't you have an umbrella?"

"I do. However, I prefer not to use it," she stated in a monotone that had for years fooled others into believing she felt nothing. But Shinji knew better. He had seen her truly smile after the Fifth Angel. At being alive, and at him.

"Why not?"

She paused, considering how to answer, "…The rain…it connects the heaven and earth. Without it, the sky had no release for the vapor that gathers within it, and the earth had no means of supporting plant growth away from the oceans and bodies of fresh water. Without the rain, it is difficult to support life in most places…."

"…Go on," he prompted, seeing how she'd faltered, fascinated with the rare, lengthy explanation.

"Perhaps I enjoy feeling the process. That connection. It is a peaceful thing. Not only that, but the rain cleanses even as it touches you. Perhaps that it what I enjoy. A touch without the worry of sin."

He snorted at that last. Just minutely, her eyes widened, "Ikari-kun?"

He gazed out onto the empty street before them, "Ayanami, you don't have to worry about being "sullied". You're the purest person I know. Well, that I like, at least. Misato's a drunk; Toji and Aida shift between being hentais or war-game fanatics; Asuka's a violent liar; and Hikari, despite her appearance of innocence, pretends to hate someone she really loves. But you…you're honest. And who says touching has to be a sin? That's ridiculous."

Her eyes widened minutely in surprise, "Ikari-kun, that's the most I've heard you say at once. Analytically."

He grinned, "Likewise to you. So, anyways, you like the rain because you view it as a liaison?"

She gave him a slight nod. His brown eyes sparkled.

"Well then, I guess we won't be using my umbrella as we go to your place." This comment may have raised eyebrows around others, but Misato, they both knew, would pick him up there.

"You do not have to-."

He smiled, "It's alright. I don't mind."

And so they stood, and began to walk. By the time they reached the train station to get to their district, they were both soaked, their clothes sticking to them, and, in their dampness, semi-transparent. Neither minded, even Shinji, whose tape player was at risk. He was just glad their teacher had not assigned homework for the weekend. Otherwise, bringing books and papers, and needing to keep them from escaping ruin, would have been a real hassle. Yet fortunately, that was not the case.

At any rate, the two children sat together, not touching, not talking. When they at last arrived at Rei's apartment, he called Misato to tell her he was at her place and ready to be driven home. He ignored his guardian's sly comments and Asuka's speculations on what he and the doll/Wondergirl were up to. He was glad that his friend could not hear the derogatory names. Though, on second thought, she might not care.

Afterwards, with time to kill, they cleaned up her apartment and fed the local stray cat which hung around the complex. He was pale-furred with azure eyes, which they had named Shiro, after the Japanese word for 'white'. Ayanami had a log where she recorded the feline's activities, among one thing. Today, Shiro clung to his other "owner", the pilot of Unit-01, draped over the shoulders of the half-amused, half-distressed boy. Rei, amused despite her lack of indication of it, plucked the cat away, and kindly encouraged it to continue roaming.

From the lobby outside her front door, they stared out onto the gray world in silence.

Then, Shinji asked, "Do you believe in fate, Ayanami?"

Again, a question that surprised her in that it was unable to be answered easily.

She pondered on it, "…Yes."

He leaned against the rail, "How come?"

Had she been the type to shrug, she might have, but instead she said, "Because fate implies that one has no say in the outcome of their lives – that it is all preordained. Such is the case for me. My purpose has already been decided for me."

The ebony-haired boy did appear to like this answer at all, "Ayanami, that can't be right! It'syourchoice what you want your life to be, notanyoneelse's."

Especially not my father's –he added silently.

Rei contemplated this, but did not rebuke his claim, only stating, "So you do not believe in fate, Ikari-kun?"

His eyes became distant, "…Honestly? Not really. A teacher I once had told me that only those who believe in destiny suffer from it. They…fulfill their own prophecies by trying to alter them and…. Well, the debate was rather confusing. I think that he meant that as long as you followed your own way and make your own choices, then you make your own destiny while defying any that have been 'set in the stars' for you. Or something to that effect."

He saw the faint echo of bewilderment that crossed her face, and scratched the back of his head, at a loss, "Sorry. That didn't make any sense."

"Do not apologize. It is…intriguing. I must think on it."

He smiled.

The rain began to pour down with new fury. She met his eyes and began to walk towards the stairwell, proceeding to dart down the levels to the ground floor. Shinji followed swiftly, wondering what in the world she was doing. But then, as he followed her outside, he saw her intentions. She was standing in the rain, arms outstretched, letting it pound upon her form, shower her in its waters. There was something sweet, beautiful, in that moment. The image of a face upturned in rapture, hidden only by natural default, the girl's arms out, palms up…something that mimicked spiritual wonder. He joined her, and after a moment of self-conscious hesitation, nervousness, he copied her stance.

And the rain fell on both of their faces, running down their cheeks like happy tears they might someday shed. It was warm…yet, perhaps it was merely something they both felt inside themselves, projected by their minds into the feel of the liquid that fell upon them.

Then, abruptly, Shinji began to spin, to kick his feet into the puddles, like the child he truly was, dancing in the rain. Ayanami watched him, the sound of his gleeful laughter and shouts having alerted her to his actions. Then, slowly, with restraint born of caution, she too, began to twirl in the downpour at his encouragement. If the girl had known what release to give the hesitant, somewhat odd, energetic, breathtaking feeling that curled in her belly, she might have laughed as well. But recognizing the happiness that comes from having fun was not something she was familiar with. She had had too little of it in the past.

However, if one later asked her if that was what she'd felt in that innocent moment, there would have been a high probability,ifshe put that name to the resulting emotion, that she would answer that, indeed, she had hadfun.

And yes…perhaps there was a fated end to all lives, to all things. But did it honestly matter? It was the experiences one had before that final day which lingered in the person's memory – in truth, the destiny of someone was only recalled by others. And indeed, this moment would linger in both of those teenager's minds, whose end had yet to arrive.

As it would in Misato's mind too when she arrived upon the scene, finding them dancing in the rain. It was shocking enough the little Shinji-chan was goofing off…but Rei? Yet, all the guardian did was pick up her jaw and smile, beeping her horn to announce her arrival to the children. She attempted not to tease her charge after she saw him say farewell to the First Child in a rather shockingly bright and cute tone. As they drove away though, she couldn't resist poking fun at him for getting the inside of her car all wet. But, unlike as was usual, the boy did not care about the teasing/complaining of his superior.

Because just before he had turned away, Ayanami had given him the smallest of smiles, and said a temporary goodbye back to him.

Indeed…even if the world was to end, its ugliness had some yet beautiful strokes within the chaotic portrait that made it up. Some moments to cling and savor. And perhapsthatwas the only certain truth in time and space. That it was an ugly, yet beautiful world.