Chapter Text
Shinji Ikari had grown used to the unbearable tedium of life in the NERV base. It was a bit lonely, he had to admit, with Ayanami doing… whatever she did. His dad didn’t talk to him, Fuyutsuki was off with him, and Kaworu… Well, if he had his way, he’d spend every minute of every day with that boy--as long as Kaworu didn’t mind, of course. He was the only spot of life in an apocalyptic wasteland; flourishing, vibrant. Kaworu emanated hope. Shinji needed that.
Still, in moments where the unrelenting boredom of the NERV base was broken by piano practice, fluttering heartbeats and bashful glances, he was glad for this kind of limbo between his bloodstained past and the uncertain future. It wasn’t as if he had anything else to wait for. Or any one to wait for, considering he’d managed to cause the apocalypse.
But, one ordinary-seeming day, this pocket of tranquility in a world ravaged by devastation was shattered by a red-haired woman, followed by a tall, spiky-haired brunet man in a trenchcoat. Assuming for a moment that she was Asuka, he flinched, only to realize that she was far older than his ex-teammate. A bit of relief flooded through him; Asuka angry was a force to behold, and after their last run-in, Shinji would have preferred to not deal with her again for a long, long while. He was sure that she would feel the same way.
Meanwhile, as Shinji was lost in thought, the woman seemed to be mouthing something; the shock left him a bit slow on the uptake. After noticing that she seemed to be passionately gesticulating to him, he took off his earbuds, thoroughly confused.
She pointed at the boy, eyebrows furrowed. “I told ya, Spaceman! I told ya there was someone left!”
Shinji just stared at them, unsure of what to say. After a notable silence, he finally stammered, “—Umm… Who are you?”
This had been a bit of a detour for the time-travelling duo. Donna, being the headstrong person she was, had tried to yank the TARDIS controls from The Doctor’s hands. A scolding later, and the two of them, thoroughly yelled out, made up. Still, Donna mused, wherever they ended up, at least it would be an adventure, right?
Of course, looking outside of the window, finding a gaping chasm covered in what appeared to be blood, an eye in the earth’s crust, muddled globs of corpses, congealed like curd in spoiled milk…
Donna tried her hardest not to retch. The Doctor, meanwhile, tried his hardest not to panic. Both of them failed miserably. Bolting back into the TARDIS to stop her gagging, Donna brushed past her best friend as he, too, attempted to remain calm. After a moment of deep breathing for both of them, she called back out from the Console room.
“—Spaceman, this is not Tahiti!”
Walking out to their destination, The Doctor ducked his head back into his ship, and gave the console’s navigation screen a glance. “—Well, it’s Earth, that’s all I can tell you. Specifically, Japan,” he mused. “Not the Earth you’re from, but…”
Donna stumbled back out, face incredibly pale. She grabbed Ten’s arm to steady herself. “…It looks like an apocalypse happened ‘ere.”
His voice was grave. “—I think that’s exactly what happened.”
“Oh my god.”
Ten pat her shoulder gently, feeling her shake beneath his grip. He was surprised that she was still standing, to be frank. “Everyone’s dead, Donna.” This came out as an incredulous, horrified whisper.
“I can see that,” she said, wishing that she couldn’t. Even when taken off-guard, her voice had the typical bite to it. After taking a solid minute or so to collect herself, she finally let go of Ten’s arm. Her face was less pale than it had been, but Ten could tell; seeing such devastation had wounded her.
“The TARDIS took us here for a reason,” She insisted shakily, more to herself than to The Doctor. “I’m sure we can find someone. After all, humans are like cockroaches, right?”
Despite the grim comparison, he smiled. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe how hardy your lot is.”
Donna grinned in turn. “Well, you aren’t gettin’ rid of me, that’s for sure.” She seemed to have regained a bit of composure, and released her grip on Ten’s arm. Still, The Doctor could sense a light tremor in her voice.
“Well, c’mon then, we might as well see if there’s anyone left.”
Walking into what seemed to be an abandoned auditorium, the duo’s footsteps echoed in the silence. Everything had become dilapidated, but only lightly so—even if it was mostly abandoned, it must have been so relatively recently. The silence was eerie, only broken by their movement and a gentle wind blowing through the open spaces torn out of the walls. A NERV logo, paint faded and dried in a way that made it seemed as if it had melted, loomed, the color eerily similar to the red of dried blood.
“Doctor,” Donna asked, taking a moment to pause and point it out to him, “Ever heard ‘a NERV?”
“Whatever it is, it can’t afford a new paint job,” Ten joked, eliciting a chuckle from his friend.
At that moment, another set of footsteps pattered down the hallway. The two froze.
“Donna, get behind me.” The Doctor moved in front of Donna, placing his arm out, ready to act as a shield.
She pushed his arm away. “Doctor, this means there’s someone.”
“Or some thing,” Ten shot back, his voice sharp. The steps crept closer, and the figure began to be easier and easier to discern. “Hide behind me. Now.” He moved in front of her once more.
Donna didn’t comply, and dodged his shielding gesture. “ Oi. I’m not a small child,” she snarled. “Anyway, look. Whoever’s left, they seem…” Her eyebrows furrowed. “…Surprisingly scrawny. Twiggier than you!”
“Twiggier than me?” Now that was an accomplishment. He moved away from his friend and began to inch toward the mystery figure, thoroughly unnerved, yet also, oddly enough, amused.
The Doctor caught sight of a thin silhouette. As the form stepped into some light streaming through the gaps in what was once the ceiling, he could clearly see the stranger: A young boy, probably caught in the middle of his teenage years. His hair, a jet black dark enough to be almost blue, shone like onyx in the light beams filtering through. He wore a dark gray undershirt with a white button-up atop it, notably tight black jeans, and an appearance of being preoccupied with some kind of deep thought. A Walkman in hand, he didn’t even notice the guests, appearing to concentrate on the walls as he walked. Ten noted, however, that the boy’s eyes seemed glossy; distant.
Donna grabbed at Ten’s arm, pulling at his sleeve like a child beckoning their parent in a candy store, gesturing to the lollipop counter. “I told ya, Spaceman! I told ya there was someone left!”
The boy finally seemed to notice them at that point, raising his eyes long enough to get a good look at the intruders. Instead of panic, a dull shock crossed his face. “—Umm… Who are you?”