Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don’t own Evangelion. This is a parody.

A note about content: While I’m sure this stuff is fairly old-hat for readers of Evangelion fanfiction, I thought I’d specify that this story contains discussion—sometimes explicit, usually not—of sexual assault. Do with that what you will.

I: Autumn

A near constant dance of souls, interrupted only by brief sparks of dull sorrow and recognition.

She remembered making cookies, once, with her mother. It seemed like eons ago. Worlds away. Practically a different galaxy now. She remembered making cookies: they rolled the dough out into a single sheet. They sliced shapes—little gingerbread men and women—and, freed from their primordial clay, the cookies hardened and swelled in the oven while she watched. She tugged at her mother’s apron—when would they be done? Soon, mein Schätzchen, soon.

But this was cookies in reverse. The gingerbread men and women softened, melded and molded themselves back into clay, and rejoined the thick, undifferentiated mass. The distinctions between each cookie disappeared with pounding and pressing, and soon they were all the same.

Soon, they were not they, but it. You shouldn’t be able to reverse entropy—that was a basic tenet of thermodynamics (I explained it to him, once, she remembered) and yet, here they were.

I hate this, Wondergirl. I want to go back. I hate that everyone can see… everything.

            Those stupid ruby eyes somehow managed to look smug, even here, even when their souls were interwoven, along with the rest of humanity. Save one soul, whose absence she had noticed almost immediately.

            But there’s no pain here. No sorrow. Nothing to divide you from others.

            But that’s just it. I want those things.

            You want to feel pain?

            My whole life has been pain. It just doesn’t feel right otherwise.

            The placid stare didn’t even blink.

            That was a joke. Kind of. I’m not sure I believe that the boundaries between souls have broken down if you didn’t even get that.

            I got it. It just wasn’t very funny.

            She didn’t realize it, of course, but she was the only soul in all of humanity’s primordial soup to feel rage. The entire human race gave a gentle shudder.

            You know he left.

            Who?

            You know who I mean.

            I don’t care. I don’t want to see him.

            You’re lying.

            Shut up. Let’s cut to the chase. The part where you let me out.

            Even after what he did to you—and what you did—

            I don’t want your pity, okay? I just want out of this. Let me out, Wondergirl.

            Finally, the red eyes widened. Then narrowed. This felt—warm. Somewhere inside. Or outside. It wasn’t like she had a body anymore.

            Why did you think I was pitying you? I’m relieved.

            Shut up, okay? I just want to go back. I don’t care what happened. I do care, but I want to go back. Let me go back.

            It’s not up to me, Asuka. Every soul here can return if they want to.

            Then I’m out. Seriously. Cool experiment, but I’m done with you, I’m done with NERV, I’m done with this Instrumentality bullshit, I’m done.

            But you’re not done with Ikari.

            Shut up.

            You know he’s alone.

            I said, shut up—

            She pressed forward and reached the crux of her thesis.

            You know, Asuka, that he’s got no one else and the idea of being everything to someone, even someone who betrayed you—

            Rei, please, please, I’m asking you to shut up. Please. Don’t be cruel.

            Take care of him, then. And yourself.

Asuka felt—like Asuka again. Even as she talked to Rei—still an outgrowth of the swirling miasma of disintegrated human consciousnesses—she felt the comforting return of absences: suddenly, the myriad lives and experiences and sorrows and joys all around her were distant cries. And then, they fell silent.

“Rei,” Asuka asked, and she gave a soft gasp when she heard her voice—her own voice—once more. “Can I ask one last question?”

The eyes softened. Was she going to cry? Which one of them was crying? Maybe both?

Of course.

“Are you God?”

I… don’t know.

Asuka nodded.

“It sounds like that’s a no, then. Since you’re not omniscient and all that. By definition.”

I think the truth is more complicated and frightening than that, Asuka.

She would have liked to ask Rei more. Finally, she got the blue-haired doll to open up a bit, even if it took the world ending and humanity collapsing inward on itself to do it. She’d studied philosophy once upon a time—it really hadn’t been that long ago, had it? Didn’t Nietzsche have a part about this? Vielleicht sollen sie auf Deutsch diskutieren—

The discussion would have to wait, however, because in that moment, Asuka realized she was real, once more. She had a body. Her body ached. Everything ached. And the hands around her neck, the thumbs digging into her windpipe, the sweaty palms crushing the muscles of her throat—they ached most of all.

That bastard. That idiot. His stupid face. She reached for it. She wanted to speak to him—scream at him, tell him to go to hell, tell him to kill himself, tell him how badly she hated him, how irredeemably he’d broken her. That he’d choke her, but he wouldn’t hold her—but she had no breath with which to speak.

Instead, her hand moved as if on its own. It found his cheek and she rested it there. It was a small thing, but the warmth of his flesh, the softness of his skin… After feeling nothing for who knows how long, it was practically a feast. His grip went slack and a soft trickle of air wormed into her lungs.

His head bowed. Crying. Sobs. Idiot, she thought. It’s just like you to make this all about you.

“I feel gross,” she muttered. Wondergirl’s stupid face—half of it, at least—smirked at them. Or at nothing in particular. From across the sea of LCL. Maybe coming back hadn’t been such a great idea.

She shoved him with her good hand and started to lean forward. A strangled gasp of pain spilled out of her chapped lips.

“Shinji, help me.”

He kept crying. Idiot—what was this all for, then?

“Did you go deaf in there?” she scowled. “My body is all messed up. Help me up. Quick. Come on. We’re not in that kitchen anymore. This is real. Just help me.”

Still, the tears. She’d have to do everything herself, like always. His forehead rested against her belly, quaked with each sob, and she managed to swat him, seizing a fistful of hair.

“Shinji, you idiot, help me stand up.” She licked her lips but everything was dry. “Listen, I’m gonna’ be sick. Sick. You get it?”

She saw understanding in his pink eyes. He took hold of her and she shuddered—not from the pain—but his touch was light as he pulled her to her feet.

“Good. Help me over to the shore.”

He obeyed, wordless as he shifted her good arm around his shoulders. He started to put an arm around his waist.

“Um, like this? Is this okay?”

“It’s fine,” she grunted.

“Asuka, I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I’m so sorry. I know—I know there’s nothing I can do—“

“Shut up. I didn’t come back to this—literally—god-forsaken world—just to hear you apologize.”

“I know but…”

“We’ll talk about it later.” They had reached the water’s edge. Not water, she reminded herself, with grim pleasure. The souls of all humanity.

In shaking spurts, she sank to her knees and leaned forward.

“I hate all of you,” she whispered to the entire human race, and vomited. It was bile—Rei apparently hadn’t seen fit to recreate her with a full stomach, though she had made sure to include the almost-fresh wounds and—and—and—the thing growing inside her

“Shinji,” she sputtered. “Don’t just stand there. Hold my hair.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

She felt his fingers slide through her hair. Gentle. She hated how gentle he was being. As if he might break her. As if he hadn’t already. As if he hadn’t done what she’d done, once, that night months ago—

Again, and again, and again, she puked, till her throat screamed. Her entire being was pain and nausea.

“This last one is for your dad, Shinji,” she muttered and pitched forward one last time. “I think I got him.”

“Good aim.”

“Sorry if I got your mom too. Or my mom. Or Misato. Maybe I hit Rei—that’s okay.”

“I’m sure Ayanami will forgive you.”

She held up her arms.

“I can’t walk just yet. Up.”

He was all too quick to oblige. He squatted, threaded his arms under her knees. He had trouble standing back up, though, and she pushed them forward with her good arm as she pressed in with her weight. That still didn’t work, so she used her legs to push off and then, with a quick little leap, wrapped them around her waist.

Shinji didn’t question how she could manage that maneuver while being unable to walk, and she wasn’t about to defend it.

She rested her chin in the crook of his neck. Smelled the sweat and the coppery tinge of blood still clinging to their skin. Almost let her lips touch his ear.

I’m pathetic.

~

            It was a long way to walk to find somewhere that had resisted the tides of LCL. A few times, Shinji had stopped in front of an apartment building or a house and Asuka had nixed it—didn’t look clean, she’d say, or didn’t look sturdy. He wasn’t sure he agreed with her, but even though his arms ached from carrying her, he didn’t feel like he was in any position to argue with her.

            Not after what he’d done to her.

            Three sins, all intertwined. There were more, of course, but those felt like part of the tapestry of their relationship, whatever it had been. Those sins hadn’t torn the tapestry itself like these had.

            Moving backwards in time—choking her, of course. She’d mentioned the kitchen—so she’d seen it too, in there. Maybe he could play it off that he thought they were still there, in the lake, in the hell custom-built for two. But that wasn’t entirely the truth. Part of it, sure—but some other part of him suspected, even knew that they were free, and that same part knew what came next. The talking. The accusations. The crying. The blame. The guilt. The pain. Everything that came with knowing other people. And his reaction had been…

            The second sin, no matter which way you approached it, was one of inaction. He knew what had happened that day, and even though her body had been put back together, her scars hadn’t healed. He’d seen the memory, while in the lake, replayed in her mind—all of humanity’s mind now—over and over, felt the pain of being ripped to shreds by the mass-produced monsters. He could have stopped it. He’d ignored her cries. Or, rather, he had tried not to hear them.

            Because of the first sin. The original sin. The sin where he locked the door to her hospital room. Hoisted himself on top of her. Kissed her sleeping lips and dared her to wake up and see what he was doing to her. Ached for it, if only she would react to him. If only she’d prove he weren’t alone.

            But she hadn’t. He couldn’t even find tears as he’d cleaned her up, as best he could, rearranged her pillow and covered her. Wiped her off, first with his hand, and then a wash cloth. He’d thought of throwing himself out the window right then, but he hadn’t even had the courage for that.

            And she knew all of this. He’d expected her hatred, but somehow, this tenderness cut even worse. When he felt himself reaching pits of despair he hadn’t even imagined, even in the darkest days and nights of piloting the Eva, he found her arms holding him tighter. As if—instructing him. This is what I wanted, idiot, she seemed to be saying with her mutilated limbs.

            “We could always go back to Misato’s,” he said, finally. The sun—as it were—seemed to be setting. Would the electric grid still be operational? Maybe—so much was automated these days. As if the architects and urban planners rebuilding after Second Impact had predicted this.

            “We might as well,” she said. “Our stuff is there. I want to change out of this thing.”

            The plug suit. There was a time when she had been so proud to wear it. The artificial skin that still transmitted her warmth, even though he was the last person in the world to deserve it. And now—a useless, sticky remembrance of a time that would never come again. A second placenta, he realized, and he was about to point that out to her when he realized she was still talking.

            “…weird without people around,” she mumbled. “Why did we come back? I thought others would too. Soon.”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Why did you come back?”

            “Don’t you know?”

            “To carry me around for the rest of my natural life in penance?”

            He winced and she jabbed him with her elbow.

            “You’re getting off easy, Third Child.”

            “I know I am. I still feel bad.”

            “Idiot. You should, though.”

            “Don’t worry. I do.”

            “You were really, really dumb, you know. If I’d been awake—“

            He winced again and she seemed to waver before plunging forward. He expected a dagger to the heart but instead—

            “I would have been okay with it, you know. That’s what makes you so stupid. If you’d just—tried, a little…” His head drooped and he felt her swallow hard by his ear. “But, I mean, I understand. I’m pretty insufferable. No one loves me. You’re really getting what you deserve, you know? Stuck on a dead planet with me and only me. I’ve been living it for almost fifteen years and it’s hell.”

            “Asuka,” he whispered. “Don’t talk like that. I don’t hate you.”

            “Yes,” she whispered back, as if they were sharing a secret. “You do. And I hate you. But I hate myself most of all, so in a way, you’re my favorite person.” She leaned her head back and Shinji heard a soft chorus of sharp cracks as Asuka grunted. “Isn’t that sick?”

            “If it helps, I feel the same way.”

            “Really?”

            “I don’t think I hate you at all, actually, but—myself—I don’t know if I can ever love myself,” he said as they turned onto the silent block where they’d lived for those few months that somehow felt like lifetimes ago. “I think I hate myself right now. Maybe I will forever. But I don’t hate you at all.”

            “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

            “No way.”

            “Really.”

            “That’s impossible. You were always so great.”

            Shinji felt her grip tighten.

            “Don’t say that, please.”

            “But it’s true! You’re so smart, and you worked so hard. And in the end you…” Shinji stopped. Of course, her greatest victory was also her most painful defeat. Maybe I really am as stupid as she says I am, he thought with a sad little sigh.

            One piece of luck shone through for both of them: they had arrived at the apartment block. When Shinji tapped in the key code, the doors clicked open. The lights in the lobby flickered now and then, but otherwise…

            Everything was the same.

            “We’re home,” they said in unison, stepping into the tiny apartment. They waited for a moment.

            “Somehow, I thought Misato might be here,” Shinji said.

            “Whatever happened to her?”

            “You didn’t see?”

            “I guess I missed it. It was hard to see any one thing at once in there.”

            “They shot her. While she was trying to get me to Unit One. To save you.”

            Shinji watched her nostrils flare. He helped her to sit down at the dining room table—the one he’d overturned, in their mutual dream.

            “I’m glad you made her death worth it.”

            “I know. I’m sorry.”

            “Don’t apologize unless you mean it. Unless you’re going to change. Do you get it? That’s what pisses me off the most about you.”

            “I know. I’m sorry.”

            “See? That!”

            Shinji hung his head. He noticed Asuka recoil and their eyes met. Suddenly, they were both laughing.

            “I seriously thought you were going to do it for a second.”

            “Sorry.”

            “There you go again.”

            “I promise I won’t choke you again.”

            “Well, that makes me feel better,” Asuka murmured. “Misato really deserved better. She gave us everything, didn’t she? I was such a bitch to her.”

            “I wasn’t much better.”

            “You cooked for her. You tried to take care of her. Both of us. You were more of a housewife than she or I could ever be. I was just…”

            “You really didn’t see any of it? When she died?”

            “Like I said.”

            “She kissed me,” Shinji said, tucking his hand behind his head. “And told me she’d show me the rest when it was all over.”

            He watched her lips form a sneer and then soften.

            “That means she knew she was dying.”

            “Right.”

            “I bet you would have preferred her here. Over me. Maybe she’ll wake up out of the ooze and come to you and you two can kick me out on the street and have a little slice of heaven all to yourself.”

            “Or she’ll be so disgusted with me that she’ll kick me out and you’ll both starve to death.”

            Two tired sets of eyes met once more.

            “Mein Gott, but we’re really screwed up.”

            Before Shinji could say anything, a chorus of frantic squeals came from the other room, growing louder and louder until, finally, the chorus leader—a squat bird flapping its useless wings as if trying to catch a taxi on a rainy Tokyo evening—found them.

            “Pen-Pen!” Asuka gasped. “You’re alive!”

            The bird flung itself towards her and heaved itself into her lap. She squeezed his belly and he honked, glowering at Shinji.

            “I wonder how long he was alone. It makes sense that animals didn’t disappear too, doesn’t it?”

            “It feels like he didn’t lose much weight,” Asuka said, squeezing him again.

            “Well, he can get into the fridge by himself. And I think Misato went shopping the day before—it all happened.”

            Asuka leaned back and winced. “Everyone had plans. Even Misato. She really thought up until the end that we might come back and all have dinner together.”

            “Maybe. Or maybe she was trying to fool herself. I wouldn’t put that past her. None of us were doing well at the end.”

            “The sick thing,” Asuka said, stroking Pen-Pen’s head. “Is that it wasn’t the end. Your dad really fucked everyone.”

            He couldn’t disagree with that. Asuka set Pen-Pen down and the bird began to waddle over to the fridge.

            “Hey, Shinji.”

            “Yeah?”

            She leaned forward on the table, resting her weight on her elbows. Her face shone in the scarlet twilight—moist with sweat and LCL, her one whole eye devouring him, an angry goddess come down from heaven to make things right on Earth. Beauty wasn’t the word for it—sublime, perhaps?

            “I haven’t forgiven you. I just wanted you to know that.”

            “I didn’t think you had. I don’t expect you to. I know there’s nothing I can—“

            “Shut up. I’m not done.”

            “Sorry.”

            “Remember what I said about that?”

            “Sorry.”

            “You’re doing that on purpose now. Shut up and listen. I don’t forgive you. I shouldn’t forgive you. But I might, because I’m an idiot too. But if you want me to forgive you, and there’s still only a .0001% chance of that ever happening, even if you do everything right, but if you want that chance, then listen: you’re my slave. For the rest of your life. You do what I say. You help me. You’re here for me. Not that it’ll be hard if we’re all that’s left, but you never look at another woman. You don’t even think about another woman. I’m all you have. I’m all you live for. Got it?”

            Shinji felt dizzy. Light. He reached for her hand and she took it, squeezed it.

            “We’re not back in the kitchen, Shinji. I’m real. You’re real. This is what I want. You hurt me worse than anyone else ever has. Ever will.”

            “I know. I’m sorry.”

            “Then prove it.”

            “Okay.”

            “Say it.”

            “Say what?”

            “’Asuka, I’m yours, forever and ever, till the end of time.’”

            “Asuka, I’m yours, forever and ever, till the end of time.”

            “’No matter how fucked up you are.’”

            “But I don’t think you’re fucked up. Really—I think this is a reasonable response to—“

            “Say it, idiot.”

            “No matter how fucked up you are.”

            “’I’ll be your slave, I’ll do whatever you want, and my only concerns shall be for your happiness, impossible though it may be.’”

            “I’ll be your slave. I’ll do whatever you want. And, uh, my only concerns shall be for your happiness, impossible though it may be.”

            She took a deep breath and released his hand.

            “I’m even more pathetic than you are.”

            “Asuka, I don’t think you’re pathetic.”

            “What a pathetic thing to say. You don’t pity me?”

            “No! I—I feel bad. For what I did. I pity myself, but not you.”

            “Do you think I should feel bad? For what I did to you? That time?”

            He cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

            How could he not know?

            “It’s fine. Never mind. Just don’t let your self-pitying get in the way of serving me.”

            He managed a slight smile. “Whatever you want, Asuka. Can I, uh, get you anything?”

            “Good question. Yes, you can. I’m going to take a shower. Then, I’ll need stuff for wound care. Antiseptic. Something to numb the pain. Bandages and gauze. Petroleum jelly. Stuff like that.”

            “I can go to the pharmacy down the street. It might be locked, but I don’t think anyone will care if I break in.”

            “Good boy,” she said. She took a breath and heaved herself to her feet. Shinji started to reach for her but she waved his hands away. “It’s fine. I can do it.”

            She only grimaced once or twice while crossing the room. All without his help.

            “Hey, Shinji.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Um, my body.”

            In spite of everything, his cheeks went red. He looked to see if she was making fun of him but her gaze was locked on the floor.

            “What about it?”

            “It’s gonna’ be different now. You saw it, right? In the hospital?”

            “Um, yeah.”

            “Good. If you, uh, ever see me naked, I want you to remember that, instead of what it looks like now, okay?”

            “Asuka, I’m sure—“

            “Shinji,” she growled. “What was our agreement?”

            He bit his tongue and nodded.

            “I’ll, uh, remember that, instead.”

            “And we’ll pretend that’s what I look like, instead.”

            “We’ll pretend. It’ll be no different.”

            “Good.”

~

            She stripped off the plug suit like peeling the skin off an over-ripe fruit. It didn’t hurt, much, but the sight of it, watching the suit tug at her sticky wounds, that was far worse than any pain. Asuka watched her body reveal itself, inch by inch, and she only realized she was crying when she saw tears dripping onto one of the long, angry red scars that ran the length of her gut.

            They were healing. They had almost fully healed. But they were still tender to the touch. Her arm, her legs, her stomach, and her chest were all slick with plasma, pink with LCL. Scars throbbing now that the plug suit was gone.

            She should have checked that the hot water still worked. She said a silent prayer of thanks—to Rei?—when she stuck her hand under the water and found it nearly scalding. Perfect.

            The washcloth between her lips didn’t taste like anything until she bit down hard on it, and caught a chunk of her lip in her teeth. Blood, now. But that was fine. It was just a little and it took her mind off the searing pain coursing along her flesh. She closed her eyes, sighed into the wash cloth to keep from screaming, and drained soap over her body.

            Now, she was all pink. She wrapped herself in a towel and found Shinji returning.

            “I’m back—ah, Asuka, I’ll just leave the stuff here,” he started to say when he saw her. He turned his head, a well-timed, well-honed pivot. She glanced down at her form—most of the scars were covered by the towel, but he could see how mutilated her arm was. Even her shins and feet.

            “No, it’s fine. Come here. I need your help.”

            “Okay.” His voice trembled. Ach, Shinji, right now I need a Mensch, she thought. He began to unload the pharmacy bag.

            “I, uh, got everything you asked for. And new toothbrushes, since I don’t know how long it’s been. And you didn’t even use yours for the last month, uh…”

            “Shinji, I meant in the bathroom. I can’t put this stuff on myself. It hurts to stretch and twist. Okay?”

            “Okay. Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

             She took a deep breath. It felt good to fill her lungs with steam. He joined her in the bathroom and she put her hands on the edge of the towel.

            “Remember what I said. About—pretending.”

            “I’ll remember.”

            “Thank you.”

            She slid the towel down and squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t trust the pity not to bloom on his face. She didn’t care, now, if he saw her. He’d already seen it. But to see disappointment on his face—pity—she’d throw up again if she saw that.

            “Wow, Asuka,” he whispered. She heard him gulp and she gritted her teeth.

            “What? What is it?”

            “Sorry. It’s just—you’re really, really beautiful.” Their breathing seemed to alternate, waiting for the other to take a breath before inhaling.

            Don’t push it, idiot, she wanted to say, but he wasn’t done.

            “Seriously, Asuka, I’m not pretending. I’ve always thought so. This doesn’t change anything.”

            She bit hard into the raw slice of her lip to keep from crying. She searched his words, his voice, but could find no trace of deception. If he was pretending, he was doing a damned good job of it.

            “Well, fine. Lucky for you then,” she said, finally, and opened her eyes. Her eye, really. He reached for the bandage over her face.

            “Why didn’t you take this one off?”

            “It… it hurt too much. The tape is in my hair.”

            “Do you want me to try?”

            “Yeah.”

            His fingers were so long. Soft, slender twigs. She flinched as he touched her, some hardwired reaction that she tried to kill but couldn’t. He smiled thinly.

            “Sorry—I’ll be gentle.”

            “You’d better.”

            She watched his face as he worked the tape off her hair. The concentration and seriousness drawn tight over the face she was so used to seeing look—sad, tired, bored, pitiful in every possible way.

            “How’s it look?” she asked once he peeled the bandage down, wincing yet again as it grabbed at skin.

            “Not too bad—can you open it?”

            “I—don’t know.”

            “Here,” he said, and wet a cloth. He wiped at it for a few seconds. “Try now.”

            Her eye fluttered open, as if by magic, and there he was.

            “Your eyes,” he said. “They’re really pretty.”

            “I know,” Asuka murmured, and snatched the wash cloth from him. She ran it over her face and looked at it—a little blood but not much. Without a word, they both turned to the mirror: the flesh around her eye was mottled pink with burns, and a deep gouge in her eyebrow shimmered wet. But her eye itself was fine.

            He set to work on the wounds. Occasionally, it stung. Mostly, she felt nothing. She opened her eyes to see him, crouched and bent in concentration, his face mere inches from her hips. She hated how gentle he was, or wanted to hate it—how, if he tried, he could ensure that she felt no pain. His fingers were so delicate, so skilled, playing her wounds like the cello. Even though he wasn’t a doctor, his fingers seemed to know how to help.

            He knew how to help her, how to relieve her agonies, and so often, he simply hadn’t.

~

            The torn, ruddy flesh before him glistened with jelly now. He dabbed it on, as gently as he could, somehow containing himself. Once upon a time, being this close to Asuka, his face practically pressed into her buttocks as he treated a long, jagged scar that ran the length of her leg and crossed over the plumpness of her thighs onto her lower back, he would have shut down from embarrassment.

But this world only barely felt real. She needed this, here, in this world, and he owed it to her to help her without succumbing to a nosebleed.

Besides—even thinking about her that way made him sick with guilt. Calling her beautiful was one thing—it was the truth, as far as he was concerned, but it also seemed to be what she needed, then, at that moment. A salve for scars hidden from his eyes. But to think about her in that way, after what had happened… No, after what he’d done.

“I bet,” Asuka said, cutting the silence as she eased her legs apart to let him treat a wound on her inner thigh. “You’re getting off on this. My nubile naked body. All helpless and splayed open for you.”

He bit his lip hard to keep from crying.

“No—not really,” he said.

“You’re lying. You said you liked my body.”

“I do. I mean, I think you’re beautiful but—I’m not thinking about you like that.”

“Because you already got to try it so you’re not interested.”

“No! No, I mean, I just feel bad. And I feel bad that I’m the only one here who can take care of you. You don’t want that, do you? I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again.”

“Idiot,” she whispered after a few moments. “You’re still a man, aren’t you? You aren’t imagining how much I might be enjoying a man’s hands on me?”

“Asuka,” he said. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the small of her back. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know.”

He finished and taped gauze to the most egregious wounds. Asuka hobbled to her room, and while she dressed, Shinji made dinner. He could hear her muttering to herself, sifting through clothes, cursing in German, even throwing things but when she emerged, she was smiling. She wore a pale blue skirt, and a sweatshirt he’d never seen, with Latin letters emblazoned over the chest—Universität Wittenberg.

“It was hard to find something to wear with these stupid bandages, but this is kind of cute, isn’t it?” she said, and spun around, flinging the skirt up an inch.

“What’s it say on your sweatshirt?” Shinji asked. A shadow passed over her face—should he have complimented the skirt?

“Can’t you read it? You know some English. German’s not that different.”

He tried to sound it out, and after a few tries, she took pity on him.

“Universität Wittenberg—that’s where I went to university. In Germany. I never wore this sweatshirt because it always seemed like summer here, but it seems like the seasons are coming back. It was colder today than I remember it being.”

“That’s right. I wonder if something about Third Impact changed things back to how they were.” Noodles sizzled in the wok as Shinji whipped tofu and soy sauce into the pan. “I remember my mother telling me about the different seasons…”

Asuka grunted. That’s right. Mothers were probably an off-limits topic with her.

“I always forget that you graduated university,” Shinji continued. He glanced over his shoulder to see her sitting down, watching him from the dining room table. His shoulders tensed for a second, remembering that horrible dream, but her head wasn’t bowed—she looked at him, and she didn’t seem mad. “There’s really a lot I don’t know about you, Asuka.”

“Maybe I’d like to keep it that way, Third Child.”

His shoulders slumped.

“I guess I don’t blame you.”

He divided the noodles between two bowls. The produce in the fridge had gone bad, and he started to apologize that there wouldn’t be any fresh vegetables but the look on Asuka’s face told him she wouldn’t want to hear it.

“Let’s eat,” he said softly. She said nothing, merely dipping into the noodles and piloting them to her mouth.

“I hope it’s okay,” he tried again.

Finally, he couldn’t resist any longer—

“I’m sorry we don’t have any fresh vegetables—“

“How could that possibly be your fault?” Her voice grabbed him by the throat and he sputtered.

“I just mean…”

“Pathetic.”

He bowed his head.

“Just be nice to me.”

“I am nice to you.”

That was from—when they were in that place. He looked up at her to see her mouth dropping open. The look of hatred he’d expected was absent—she was… startled. Eyes wide. Lip trembling. She dropped her chop sticks into the bowl and he let loose a little yelp when she reached for his hand. If that had surprised him, the way his fingers responded to the warmth without question, intertwining them with hers, caught him even more off-guard.

“We’re really the last two people on Earth who should be the last two people on Earth,” he said.

They finished in silence. Asuka wouldn’t let go of his hand. Finally, he eased his fingers away to clean up but she caught him again.

“Hey,” she said. She wasn’t smiling, but there was something in her eyes like a grin. “Let’s go get drunk and kill this thing inside of me.”

~

            There was a basement bar a block from their building. They had both walked by it far too many times to count—the kind of sleazy place bored-looking women in short dresses always seemed to be waiting outside of. Misato mentioned once that she’d gotten kicked out of, and Shinji even remembered Ritsuko teasing her about it. In other words, it was the perfect place to drink yourself stupid post-apocalypse.

            The door was unlocked. Most doors were, it seemed. They exchanged knowing looks.

            “It must have been open when Third Impact happened,” Asuka wondered aloud as Shinji eased the door open. A thick cloud of dust gasped about them as they stepped inside. Briefly, she wondered if this was a terrible, horrible mistake: the bar was littered with damp clothes, the remnants of the last patrons. Half-evaporated drinks stood bearing lonely witness to the end of the world. The entire place smelled vaguely of fruit juice and syrup.

            Shinji glanced back at her and whatever the face she had been making, she replaced it with a resolute frown.

            “What are you waiting for, idiot? I said I wanted you to make me a cocktail and Misato only had cheap beer!”

            “You don’t think it’s—creepy?”

            “Everything’s creepy. There’s no where we can go that won’t be like this. Did you think I just wanted to sit at home with you all night?”

            Somehow, even as she said it, the way she phrased that made her blush. Home. Why did that word taste so odd?

            Shinji stepped behind the bar. He brushed the dust away from a few bottles and coughed.

            “Um, I don’t really know anything about cocktails, Asuka.”

            “Fine. Then, I’d like to start with a good German beer.”

            “Um,” he said, squatting down and digging into a fridge. “There’s… Heineken.”

            “Dummkopf! That’s not German. It’s Dutch.”

            “What’s the difference?”

            She rose on her heels, over the bar, only to see him grinning at her. She snatched the green bottle out of his hand, and then gave it back when she realized she had no opener. He poured two bottles and they raised their glasses.

            “In German, you say ‘Prost!’ for cheers,” she instructed. “Eins, zwei, drei…”

            Asuka had only had beer a few times, but she wasn’t about to let Shinji know that. The flavor—crisp, malty, but too bitter—almost made her gag, but she forced a gulp down, and then another, and by the time her glass was halfway drunk, she’d started to enjoy the taste.

            “You’re—drinking that fast.”

            “I guess Misato rubbed off on me.”

            “You’ll make yourself sick if you drink too fast,” he tried one last time. A withering look was her only reply. “But that’s what you’re trying to do.”

            “Obviously. And you’re getting sick with me.” She tipped the rest of the beer back, with a few steady gulps and let out a mighty belch. She hadn’t been expecting that, but she found she rather liked the stunned expression on Shinji’s face. “Next. Surprise me.”

            A dust bound book caught Shinji’s eye. He palmed it open, squinted in the dim light, and found the table of contents. The first recipe was complicated, but it seemed impressive and sophisticated—something she’d like. A quick perusal of the bottles behind the bar revealed that he had all the ingredients at hand.

            “Okay—give me a moment,” he said, taking another gulp of his beer. Asuka watched him work. He brought care to what he did, treating it like piloting an Eva or playing the cello or making her dinner. Three things, she reminded herself, that he did exceedingly well. Would this be a fourth?

            No. Thinking like that was dangerous.

            Why, she asked herself, was it dangerous?

            Because it would be so easy to end up hating one another. You should really hate him, for what he did to you. And if he doesn’t hate you now—he will before long—because everyone, Asuka, everyone ends up hating you. Why would he stay in this world, heavy with guilt, with you? He could plop back into that lake of souls and merge with Wondergirl and never feel anything and you’d be all alo—

            “Okay, Asuka,” Shinji chirped. “Try it.”

            A glowing purple drink stood before her. She eyed it like the secretion of some ancient beast, resurrected for treachery.

            “What am I looking at?”

            “It’s called an Abi—Avi—Aviash—“

            “Aviation?”

            “That’s it. My English is rusty.”

            “You didn’t poison me, did you?” She raised the drink to her lips. There was something witchy and beautiful about the amethyst pond, which seemed to move in its glass as one, leaving no traces of itself behind.

            “N-no! I know it looks weird, but it says here the ingredients are usual. ‘Crème de violette’ and gin…”

            “Gin,” she said, swirling it once last time. “Like a martini.”

            “I guess. I don’t really know much about alcohol. I’ve had sake at funerals and I swiped a beer from Misato once or twice but that’s it. Until tonight.”

            As she spoke, she took a sip. How could something taste so smooth—so bitter and sweet at once? She let it play on her tongue for a second before swallowing.

            “You stole beer from Misato?” she choked. “Why didn’t you tell me? That would have made living with her way more fun.”

            “Well, it was only a few times and I didn’t really like it that much. And I didn’t think you’d want to do that.” He scratched his head like a little boy admitting to some minor wrong doing—which, now that she thought about it, was exactly what he was. “Hang out with me, like that. And drink.”

            “We hung out all the time at home,” she said and took another sip. And another. “We watched TV and played video games and read…”

            “But we didn’t really do any of that stuff together. We read manga and stuff, but side by side and we didn’t really talk. Or we argued over what we’d watch and you always won. Or I watched you play video games. When I did things with Touji and Kensuke… We, you know, talked about them and did them together. Camping and stuff.” Something on her face must have scared him because he added, almost immediately: “Sorry.”

            “Idiot,” she scowled. “You could have… said something. I didn’t exactly have a normal childhood. If I was weird—it was probably because I wasn’t used to spending a lot of time with someone.”

            “It’s okay. Really. I didn’t mind.”

            “No, you brought it up, so you clearly did mind!” she said, voice rising. “If you had just told me, maybe I could have fixed and maybe we could have—“ Something caught in her voice. She frowned, forcing the tremble in her lip to cease, and pressed the rim of the cocktail glass to her mouth. Cool ethanol oblivion washed over her tongue.

            He took another sip of his beer, and then a gulp. He burped behind his hand and opened another bottle.

            “It would have been nice, right?” he ventured. “If we had been friends.”

            “God knows Wondergirl wasn’t great company. Hikari was great, and your idiot friends were okay, but it’s not like they understood.”

            “Ayanami had it rough,” he countered. “I don’t think she knew what to make of things until the very end. They really kept her in the dark about everything they were doing.”

            “But she didn’t have to be so—so—smug. Even now, I feel like she’s smirking at me. Like she knows something I don’t.”

            “She probably does. Not that it matters.”

            Asuka finished her drink, and Shinji made her another. Drunkenness was descending, and it felt wonderful—a warm coat that made her impervious to anything and everything she might say. He might say. Anything.

            “We could have been friends,” she repeated, nodding. He nodded too.

            “We should have been friends.”

            “I would have liked that.”

            “Really?”

            “Obviously, idiot! You must be really brain dead. I was—“ And here, she pulled the cloak of alcohol tight around her vulnerable flesh. “—flirting with you all the time. I thought you weren’t interested.” She let the words settle on his stunned face. “I thought you liked Wondergirl more.”

            “No way.”

            “For real.”

            “You’re making this up. What about—what about—the ‘impenetrable wall of Jericho’ and all that stuff?”

            “Shinji,” she said, setting her glass down. “Do you know what’s so special about the wall of Jericho?”

            “Um—it’s really strong and—impenetrable?”

            “So they thought. But, in scripture, God helps the Israelites…“—and here she made sure to emphasize each syllable—“…PEN-E-TRATE it. It falls. That’s what people know about it.”

            Shinji hung his head. Asuka couldn’t help but giggle.

            “And thermal expansion? Do you think I really cared about your grades? Do you think if I did, I’d be explaining things to you with my tits? Or what I’d ‘accidentally’ fall into bed with you?”

            “I thought that was just—how you were.”

            “And I thought you were a normal, healthy teenage boy and you’d try something.” She sighed. “I guess you did. Just not when I needed it.”

            “I’m sorry. I—I—I can’t believe how badly I screwed up, Asuka.”

            “I don’t want to hear it. It just sucks.”

            “I know.”

            “We could have been something.” There was something wet in his eyes that she focused on, even though she wanted to look away.

            “I would have liked that, Asuka. I was—so lonely and confused. I just thought you couldn’t possibly be interested in me.”

            “That’s your problem,” she said, thrusting her drink at his face. “You can’t even imagine being loved by someone else, so you don’t even consider that someone else might need your love!” As soon as she said it, she wanted to take it back. If she could have, she would have gathered up the words that had come tumbling out of her lips and force them back down her gullet but words spoken can’t be unheard. This was another entropy you couldn’t reverse.

            Shinji seemed, suddenly, very interested in the bubbles dancing in his beer. She was about to yell at him, probably forbid him from pitying her, when he interrupted the panicked thoughts forming themselves into words in her mind.

            “We could have been in love.”

            Whatever he could have said at that moment—nothing could have cut like that.

            “Yeah. We could have.”

            “That sucks.”

            “We could have been there for each other.”

            “Throughout the entire stupid Third Impact. Nerv. Human Instrumentality. Everything my dad was doing. It would have been so different if I’d had someone to—to—rely on.”

            “Mein Gott, Shinji, think about it,” she said, leaning forward, smiling. “If we’d been in love. We would have been unstoppable.”

            “You think so?”

            “Oh, obviously! The one time my Synch rate was perfect was when I, uh, realized that my mother was with me, you know. I think the big flaw in the EVA project was who they found to pilot them. They really found the most screwed up kids possible, didn’t they? If we’d been in a loving, supportive relationship the whole time…” She mimed a rocket taking off with her drink in tow. “Synch rates through the roof. We’d have kicked every Angel’s ass, no questions asked. You’d have saved my ass when SEELE came after NERV. And then, we would have crushed NERV, SEELE, and the UN.”

            “The UN too?”

            “Definitely. Definitely the UN too. Because then we’d take over the world. Think about it, Shinji. The EVAs are practically gods. We would have been invincible. We could have averted all of this and made sure peace and prosperity reigned forever and ever.” Understanding flashed on his face and he gave her the saddest smile she’d ever seen anyone make.

            “When you put it that way—I almost believe we could have done it.”

            “You bet your ass we could have. We would have been unstoppable.”

            “We could have been in love,” he repeated.

            “But, now,” she said and finished her drink. She knocked her knuckles against the bar. “We never will be. Next.”

            The night deteriorated rapidly after that.

            “Here, look,” she said, dabbing a drop of maraschino syrup onto her cheek and tucking the bottom two thirds of her hair into her sweatshirt. “Who am I?”

            Shinji’s eyes wavered for a second.

            “Dr. Akagi!”

            “And now who am I?” She mussed up her hair, pushing some of it forward over her face, and drew her lips thin and straight. She stared at Shinji, unblinking.

            “Ayanami?”

            “Right! You do one.”

            As if in a daze, he searched the bar. A huddled mound of clothing a few seats down from them provided his inspiration: he plucked the pair of glasses, still slick with LCL, from the remnants of their own, and donned them. He leaned his elbows forward on the bar, joined his hands, and let his face rest against them.

            Asuka let out a gasp.

            “Commander Ikari. You look just like him when you do that.”

            “I mean,” Shinji said, discarding the glasses. “I am his son. Was his son. I don’t know what I am.”

            Asuka’s glass was empty and she knocked against the bar once more. Shinji scratched through the bar book.

            “How about a Boulevardier?”

            Their bodies blazed in spite of themselves on the long stagger home. Asuka stripped her sweatshirt off, wrapped it around her waist, and leaned against his arm.

            “I feel gross,” she grumbled for the second time that day. “This stupid thing inside of me had better die.”

            Shinji slurred something and she scowled. Leave it to him to disappear into drunkenness when she needed him. At least he was reasonably steady.

            “Asuka, look,” he said suddenly, clear as day. She froze and turned with him. They stood before two benches, a bannister, and then a drop-off. There, months ago, had been city, and here, they had once stood. The night she ran out on the impromptu party where Touji, Kensuke, and Hikari had watched Rei beat her in that stupid choreographed dance. Shinji had come to find her, had stayed with her. Laughed and traded jokes, timid though he was, with her. Agreed to work hard with her. She had mounted one of these benches, declared her intention to win for all the world to hear—though, in fact, it had just been Shinji. “Remember this place?”

            “Of course I remember this spot,” she scowled. “I might be drunk but I still—I still—“

            Something inside of her changed. She dashed to the railing, jerked her head over it, and vomited. Shinji was quick to grab her hair, bundling it into a fist. He regarded her for a second with dull eyes before her, too, threw his head over the railing.

            Somewhere in between volleys of stomach acid, he began to laugh.

            “What’s so funny?” she demanded through tears, her throat hoarse.

            “Asuka, we’re so stupid. Why did we get drunk? We could just get medication for you from the pharmacy.”

            “Idiot, you don’t think I knew that?” she screamed. Her head went back over the railing and soon, she was laughing too. “Mein Gott, we are so stupid, aren’t we?”

            “We’re idiots.”

            “We’re the dumbest. I could’ve taken a pill and we could be relaxing at home right now.”

            “We’re so dumb.” Shinji’s throat made a sound somewhere between that of a dying car and a dying elephant. “Why did we get so drunk?”

            “It was my idea. I’m an idiot.”

            “It’s okay. I’m the idiot who followed you.”

            This was admittedly terrible but, Asuka realized, it was not the worst she’d ever felt.

            “Hey, Shinji, you know what’s worse than this?”

            “What?”

            “Getting raped by your friend after having a mental breakdown, and then getting dismembered by giant robot monsters because your friend was too much of a coward to come and save you!”

            Shinji wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at her. She forced herself to look at him, even as she felt something suspicious dribbling down her chin.

            “You—“ he started, swallowed, and continued: “Think I’m your friend?”

            Her mouth dropped open another inch as they stared at each other. Then, like a storm breaking a heatwave, laughter overtook them. In unison, they dove their heads over the railing once more and hurled.

~

            It seemed like the least he could do and yet, it felt like one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

            The next morning, Shinji awoke from troubled dreams to find Asuka drooling spit and vomit on his chest, a leg thrown over his body and her arms wrapped tight around his midsection. Her arms pinned his left arm, while her shoulders and head pinned his other beneath her. In other words, he was holding her and anyone coming upon them, with no prior knowledge of their relationship, would have seen two young lovers, sloppy and alive with infinite futures animated before them.

            But, that’s not what Shinji felt. He had the vague notion that his mouth had been replaced by one of the ash trays at NERV HQ, and he was convinced that someone had bludgeoned him half to death in the middle of the night. It was only when he extracted himself from Asuka’s embrace and examined his skull, finding no wound, that he realized it was just the worst headache he’d ever experienced.

            There was something comforting, he realized, in this. Somehow, the world held cruel possibilities that the EVAs and the Angels had not yet introduced him to. Life went on after Instrumentality, and it got worse, but—did he dare think it? Maybe that meant it could get better too.

            He struggled to his feet. He washed his face and drank water until his stomach seemed to swell. Using his hand to keep the world from spinning, he guided himself to the door and then to the elevator—it was some small brilliant piece of providence that those elevators still worked.

            Once outside, fending off cruel sunlight’s thesis, he beat a path to the pharmacy. Heaving himself over the counter in the back, he shifted the instrumentalized pharmacist’s clothes out of the way once more and selected the correct combination of pills for Asuka. Everything was clearly labeled. This really was so much simpler and cleaner than anything else they could have done.

            Next, he stopped at the convenience store. The aisles were as empty as they’d been yesterday, and he murmured a hello to no one in particular as he pilfered sports drinks, iced coffees, and candy for breakfast. Honestly, how did Misato do this so often?

~

            The night before, as they lay down to sleep, stomachs groaning, Asuka had turned to Shinji.

            “You were awful to me,” she said. “The last time we slept in the same bed.”

            “What?”

            “You remember.”

            “When I, uh, tried to kiss you?”

            “No, idiot.” She stared at him, waiting for the light of understanding to grace his dull face. “You don’t remember?”

            “No… Did I do something wrong? I did, didn’t I?”

            No. No. No. That was wrong. He had to remember. It didn’t make sense if he didn’t remember.

            “Shinji, please, tell me you remember.”

            “Asuka,” he scowled. “Give me a clue. Remember what?”

            No. They were just drunk. It was too painful otherwise.

            “Nevermind,” she scowled. She turned her head away but when she felt his hand touch hers, she rolled over to him, burrowing into him as best she could, praying that her skull would leave her in peace somehow.

            It was a night months ago, when they still lived together with Misato in a queer approximation of a family. Asuka rose and drifted into the bathroom, as if in a dream.

            She stared at herself in the mirror, she remembered. Marshalling courage like a general under fire, rallying her troops.

            “This sucks,” she scowled. “Why do I have to be the one to do this?”

            She plunged the bathroom into darkness and let her feet guide her to Shinji’s room. She paused at the threshold, listened to his breaths spilling softly into the air. The quiet hum of his SDAT player. She stepped inside and slid shut the door.

            “You will hold me,” she told him, in a whisper, not caring one bit when he didn’t react. She had already decided what to do.

            Lowering herself delicately over him, she balanced herself, letting her night shirt tickle his nose. That would do it. If he awoke right now, he’d open his eyes, see her bared for him and—

            Nothing.

            Fine. A heavy sleeper. Or playing hard to get. She lowered herself closer to him, her thighs against his, her breath on his face.

            Nothing.

            Ach, du heilige Scheisse…

            She slid her hand under his shirt, rested it on his belly for a second, and then drifted down. She found her quarry and was briefly pleased when it responded to her exactly how she’d planned. There was no question that he wanted this, then. She moved her hand and a moan tumbled out of his lips.

            Wake up, Shinji, she commanded in her heart. Wake up and see what I’m doing. Look how pathetic I am. See how lonely I am. I’ll do anything, just so long as you touch me and hold me. You’re the only one who’ll ever know how low I’ll sink just to feel something, so please wake up. Please. Please, Shinji, wake up and do whatever you want to me. Please, please, please, Shinji—

            He groaned and she felt something hot and wet on her hand. She pulled it out and sat back on her heels. She stared at the slime on her palm in the moonlight streaming through his window.

            Playing with me. He’d rather ignore me than touch me, she thought. Why is this so hard? Why does everyone hate me? Why won’t someone hold me? First Mama, then Kaji, and now Shinji—

            She left him and returned to the bathroom. She washed her hands three times and still they didn’t feel clean.

            “I’m scum,” she whispered, and pressed her palms to her face.

            Somehow, being in this apartment again brought this memory back and Asuka watched herself cry, alone, in the bathroom all night long until the soft clink of coffee being made hooked her cheek and dragged her back to consciousness.

            “Oh,” he said with a soft smile that she wanted to smack off his face. She hovered in the doorway, every muscle yearning for more sleep. “You’re awake. Good morning.”

            “I feel,” she announced. “Like shit.”

            “Here—“ he said, and pressed a blue bottle into her hands. “It’s electrolytes, so I think it’ll help. Misato would drink this stuff sometimes.”

            “That’s how you know you have a problem,” she muttered, but she wasn’t above following the example of their departed guardian. She chugged half the bottle in a single gulp and collapsed at the table. Shinji had covered it with candy; many of her favorites, in fact. She nibbled at a few pieces while he made breakfast.

            He placed a plate in front of her and she murmured something like a thank you. They ate, mostly without words, until Asuka caught sight of her hand and shuddered.

            “You really don’t remember that night.”

            “What?”

            “That night I came to you.”

            He shook his head. Her cheeks began to flush and her eyes felt hot.

            “I thought you were—rejecting me.”

            “Asuka, what are you talking about? I, uh, did try to kiss you, kind of. That one time. When we were training together.”

            “No, idiot, not that. I remember that.”

She took a breath and told him what she’d done. Her eyes remained on her palm until she’d told him everything and then, only then, did she allow her gaze to rise and meet his.

“I had no idea,” he whispered. “Really.”

“No. There’s no way.”

“Seriously.”

“I thought you hated me so much you wouldn’t even wake up when I was touching you.” Her voice was small. Trembling. Exactly how she felt. “No one—no one loved me. I remember screaming and crying in the bath and neither of you, not even Misato, came to me. I hated you for hating me.”

“I never hated you, Asuka.”

“But you must hate me now. How could you not?”

“I don’t want to hate anyone.”

“Hate is like love. You can’t control who you hate or who you love. It just happens.”

“Fine,” he said. “I still don’t hate you. I wish I had woken up. Maybe everything would be different now. Maybe we’d—“

“I don’t want to think about that anymore. It hurts too much.” She let the feeling of loss hang in the air for another moment. “You don’t hate me?”

“No.”

“Liar. You raped me and tried to kill me. And somehow, I still hate myself more than I hate you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Then prove it.”

“How?”

She had nothing. They watched each other for a few moments and then he rose. He circled the table and leaned into her. She smelled his scent and cooking oil and soy sauce and sweat, all encircling her as he draped his arms around her neck. She gave a pathetic little mewl and she despised whichever corner of her heart that escaped from as she stiffened. He held her, and the warmth seduced her. She placed a hand on the arm over her chest and reached for his face.

“Why…” she murmured.

“What?”

“Why does this feel so good?”

~

            Cleaning the kitchen was a small, simple thing, but it was something he could do with a beginning, middle, and end. Something he could finish and sit back and remember how it had been different at the beginning. Something he could tell himself was finished.

            It wasn’t this hellish limbo, he knew.

            Asuka showered and he dressed her wounds again. They said nothing to one another. Once, when something stung, she reached for him and he caught her hand, gripping her tight, and she made a sound that almost seemed pleased, as if she’d been sure that he’d disappeared somehow.

            He showered too and found her dressing in her room, the door open. That was unusual for her, but what was normal these days?

            “Asuka, here’s your medicine. I can read the kanji to you. If there are any you don’t know. You should read the instructions before you take it.”

            She scowled and snatched them out of his hand.

            “Obviously, I know that.”

            She’d pulled out jeans today and the same sweatshirt, which seemed to have escaped the worst of the previous night’s indulgences. That reminded him—he ought to do some laundry today. There were dirty clothes left from before Third Impact, even some from before Asuka ran away which he and Misato had left in her room, as if they could lure her back by expecting her to wash them herself.

            Should he even wash Misato’s clothes? He’d done it before, so that wasn’t the issue, but washing clothes for someone you’d seen die still seemed like a strange ritual he wasn’t prepared for. Should they create a grave for her? Should they create graves for everyone?

            “Shinji, what are you staring at?”

            “Sorry,” he stuttered. “I was… thinking about laundry.”

            “Mein Gott, you really are an idiot. Well, I left my dirty things on the floor so feel free to wash them. Don’t be a pervert about it, though.”

            “What? I’ve done your laundry before. It’s nothing I haven’t seen.”

            Still, she rolled her eyes and pushed past him.

            “Where are you going?”

            “For a walk. I’m still pretty weak but sitting around here isn’t going to change that. And I’ll go insane if I sit here any longer.”

            Shinji bowed his head.

            “Are you coming back?” he asked and something in Asuka’s posture caught his eye: a tremor of surprise. Did I get it right, he wondered, or had she not even considered leaving?

            “Probably,” she said with a shrug. She tilted her head back, an imperious little gesture that he remembered from the old days of a few months ago. “I mean, where else am I going to find someone to wait on me hand and foot? Not unless more people start to wake up.”

            “Asuka,” he said as she started for the door again. “Do you think more will come back?”

            “Probably.” She gave a short, bitter laugh. “I mean, it’s not like being in that big lake is all that much fun, is it?”

            “Why did we come back first, then?”

            “We probably hate ourselves more than anyone else in the world. Or maybe we’re so insufferable that everyone else voted us out and made us think it was our own choice.”

            He found himself smiling in spite of everything.

            “That’s pretty dark, Asuka.”

            She turned on her heels, grinning, a child pleased at her own joke.

            “Right? I bet that was it.”

            “And they made sure we’d wake up together, so we can torture each other,” he added. Her grin grew bigger and she leaned against a wall.

            “Now it all makes sense! This is probably what NERV was designed for. Just to torture you and me, specifically.”

            “Obviously. That’s why they made us live together.”

            “Seriously! Only a real sadist could have come up with that. It was probably your dad.”

            “That does sound like him, doesn’t it?”

            She turned to leave but stopped once more:

            “Hey, Shinji—if I didn’t come back, would you go looking for me?”

            “Huh? Yeah, of course.” He waited for any other clues in her body language. “You’re all I have left.”

            “What if other people wake up? What if Misato comes back? Would you still go looking for me?”

            “Of course.”

            “Liar.”

            “I would!”

            “You didn’t, last time,” she scowled and dipped out the door before he could come up with a response. He sighed, and went to start gathering their laundry when he saw the medication sitting on her bed.

            “She didn’t even take it,” he whispered to himself.

~

            It took her a while to find what she wanted. Not because she wanted to use it, but because she just wanted to—well, she didn’t know what she wanted to do with it.

            A small men’s boutique a few kilometers from the apartment. Far enough that Shinji wouldn’t stumble upon it if he went out while she was gone. She let herself in, walked past the crumpled suits, soaked through with LCL, and found the belts. She selected a thick leather one, long and black, and found a chair. Once upon a time, someone would have sat there to try on shoes or rest in between interminable suit fittings.

            Now, Asuka balanced atop it. She still wasn’t tall enough, so she piled a few boxes on the seat until she could reach the shop’s rafters.

            “This is how she did it,” she murmured as she looped the belt around the rafters. “Mama.” She tied it off and made another loop with the buckle.

            Of course, she wasn’t going to do it. She just wanted to know that she could, if she needed to.

            But—

            It couldn’t hurt to try putting her head through it? Just to make sure.

            And maybe—

            There’d be an accident—

            And she wouldn’t have to—

            No.

            As she touched the leather loop to her neck, she felt something still there, as if she’d been branded. Across her collar bone, something tingled and she sighed. It was where he’d laid his arm.

            “Why do I want his warmth so badly?” she whispered as she climbed down from the chair. I’m pathetic.

            I shouldn’t want this from someone who hurt me so badly, she told herself. I shouldn’t want him. I should hate him. I should be scared of him. I want to hate him. I want to hate him. I want to him.

            The elevator dinged to their floor and with each step, she heard the words in her skull.

            I want to hate you, Idiot-Shinji. I want to hate you, Idiot-Shinji. I—

            “’m home,” she murmured. Shinji leaned out of the kitchen.

            “Welcome back! How was your walk?”

            “Fine,” she grunted. She sniffed the air. It was stuffy in the apartment. It smelled like meat and apples, sweet scents from a forgotten homeland so far away from these islands in the Pacific.

            “What are you making?” she murmured, drifting over to him.

            “Ah, well, uh, I went out today too,” he said. He was already blushing from the heat and he grinned in that sheepish way she hated sometimes and—didn’t hate—other times. “And I found a German cookbook. I mean, it’s written in Japanese, of course. But I thought you’d like it. I found some frozen meat since all the fresh stuff has gone bad. I figured I’d make schnitzel, since it’s not so different from tonkatsu? And some potatoes and baked apples too. It seems like it’s autumn now, so it feels right, doesn’t it?”

            She stared at him. Her stomach turned flips of hunger and pleasure.

            “Not that I really know what autumn is like. I’ve only read about it.”

            She left the kitchen without saying a word and Shinji called after her: “It’ll be ready in fifteen or twenty minutes.” She forced herself into her room and forced herself to sit down. She wrapped her arms around her body and held herself there until her heart resumed its normal rhythm, until the desire to pin him against a wall and drown herself in him subsided.

            Next to her was the medicine, sterile packaging staring at her.

            Well, one more night wouldn’t make a difference, would it? she wondered, picking it up and laying it to the side.

            “I guess neither of us ate much for breakfast or lunch,” Shinji chuckled politely as Asuka dug into her plate. The pleased grunts and slurps erupting occasionally from her lips had been the only thing she’d offered him once they sat down.

            “There’s Misato’s beer too, but after last night—“

            She shook her head and he abandoned that offer.

            “I’m, uh, glad you came back, Asuka. When I didn’t run into you on my errands, I thought you might have gotten into trouble.”

            She swallowed her mouthful and sat back, breathing deep. He had no right to make German food this perfect. Especially for his first time cooking it. And in a post-apocalyptic hellscape, no less.

            “What kind of trouble could I have gotten into?” she asked suddenly. He can’t know. There’s no way. But what if he—saw? What if he passed by the shop? What if he’s lying?

            “I just meant if you got lost or something. The city’s kind of different now.”

            “Right.” She set back to her plate, trying to cut through the hunger simmering in her gut. Even as juices ran down her lips, as she savored tastes and scents she hadn’t experienced in nearly a year, a hunger remained.

            “Hey, Shinji,” she said suddenly. “What would you have done if I woke up?”

            “What?”

            “In the hospital.”

            “Oh.”

            “What would you have done?”

            “I… don’t know. I wanted you to wake up, though.”

            “Why? You’d have gotten in trouble.”

            “I didn’t care,” he shrugged. “I just felt so alone and I just wanted something—“

            “Warm,” she supplied for him.

            “Yeah, exactly.”

            “I saw your memories though. I know it sucked. It would have been way better if I were awake.”

            “Yeah, that was only one of the problems.”

            “If I’d been awake,” she said. “I would have probably let you.”

            “I… I never thought you were interested in that.”

            “Apparently,” she sighed. “It’s not that I don’t feel violated. It’s just that after everything the Angels and NERV did to me, everything you did feels kind of wimpy, you know?”

            He bowed his head. Don’t cry, idiot, she thought to herself.

            “I wish I’d woken up,” she said. “I probably would have slapped you but I wouldn’t have let you leave. I’d have made you stay with me in bed until they dragged you away.”

            “That… would have been nice.”

            She could see him blushing. Good.

            “I wonder how long we would have had. A few hours? Maybe the whole night? We could have gotten up to so much trouble. So much better than the dumb stuff we tried with each other.”

            “I’m sure,” he said, still not looking her. She bit her lip. Look at me, damn it.

            “Because it sounds like we both wanted the same thing, right?”

            “Yeah… Yeah, I guess. I was just so afraid of—“ and now he looked at her. “Being rejected. I felt like you were also rejecting me.”

            “Idiot,” she whispered. “That’s what I always felt.”

            “I felt like you hated me.”

            “Only because I hated myself. You can’t love anything if you hate yourself. You can’t even like anything. It’s like half the world is just dead to you.”

            “I know. But—even if it hurts, it doesn’t mean it’ll always hurt. Living, I mean.”

            He was looking at her and Asuka was afraid for the first time since the beach. Not for her life, but for her heart, because she was sure that he knew what she’d done that afternoon.

            “Do you promise?” she whispered.

            “Promise what?”

            “That it won’t always hurt?”

            “Yes. I think so, at least.”

            “Then I’ll stay here with you.”

            “I’m glad,” he whispered.

            This time, she helped him clean up. There was a big mess from the deep frying and even though he’d assured her she needn’t help him, she worked, silently, alongside him till the tiny kitchen practically gleamed.

            Later, when she thought back to that night, she tried to remember which one of them made the first move. Asuka was positive it was her, but the first thing she remembered was sitting with him on the balcony, in his arms, then on his lap.

            “We could jump together,” she had said at one point. “And never deal with this world again.”

            “Do you think we’d go back to the LCL?” he wondered aloud. “Just… reset?”

            “Maybe. I don’t want that. I’d rather disappear.”

            “You don’t think there’s a heaven? Or a hell?”

            “Shinji, with everything we’ve seen—do you?”

            “No.”

            “Exactly.”

            “But… I wish there were. I wish there were another side to this.”

            She found his face in the darkness with her hands. She ran her fingertips over it. Found his lips.

            “But there’s only this.” She could melt into him. Sink, once more, into the primordial soup, but this time, it would be him. “Hey, do you want to kiss? I’m bored.”

            She felt him shake with a soft, silent laugh. “Sure.”

            “You brushed your teeth?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Then here I go,” she whispered, though she only had a few inches to move. She hesitated when she felt the tickle of his breath on her upper lip. She was about to say something when he spoke.

            “Hey, stop breathing,” he ordered. “That tickles.”

            He pinched her nose and kissed her. She pounded her first against his chest, but made no attempt to escape. Instead, she crushed her lips into his, hungrily, as they’d done once before, before she’d lost her nerve. Finally, with a gasp, she pushed away from him and he released her.

            “Idiot,” she hissed through panting breaths.

            “Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

            “Idiot.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “Liar.”

            “You did that to me,” he said with a failing smile.

            “I know. When I did it, it was…” She paused to lick her lips. How lonely they felt now… “Different.”

            “Then show me how it was different, Asuka.”

            “Inside,” she whispered. “I’m cold. Unless you keep me warm.”

            It broke her heart how gentle he was with her. She arched her back, biting her tongue, until she remembered there was no reason to—the world had ended, they were the new Adam and Eve or something (this idea filled her with parental dread and she made a mental note to take the medication first thing in the morning). They were alone. She screamed and grinded her hips into his face.

            “Shinji, it feels too good,” she hissed into the dark. “I’m gonna’ die. I’m gonna’ die. I can’t take it—“ She screamed and a few seconds later, she let him go. He took trembling gasps and she giggled.

            “That’s how it’s different,” she whispered at the dark.

            He helped her onto his hips. She’d insisted on the darkness. Her scars still ached and she knew they’d ache even harder if he could see them.

            “Wait,” he whispered. “We don’t have any protection or anything.”

            She sighed.

            “I know you’re dumb, but try to keep up, idiot.”

            “But—“

            “I’ll take the pills tomorrow. We’re fine for tonight.” She felt him relaxed beneath her, his hands holding her and guiding her as she found him.

            “Does that feel okay? Does it hurt?”

            “No. I mean yes. I mean—“ she sputtered. “It feels good. See, isn’t this better than trying when I’m asleep? Does it feel good?”

            “Yeah. It feels really good.”

            She rested her weak muscles against him, feeling his closeness. He started to move beneath her, and she clung tight to him, crushing his face into her neck.

            “You remember what I said,” she whispered in his ear. She bit it. Hard. He yelped. “What my body is supposed to look like.”

            He grunted and she took this as an affirmation. She worked her fingers into his hair, dug her nails into his scalp, and sighed into his lips.

~

A near constant dance of souls, interrupted only by brief sparks of dull sorrow and recognition.

            She had awoken here, dissolved into the others, the billions of others, and stayed like that. Like instant coffee flushed in hot water. But something wasn’t right. Something was off.

            She really, really, really wanted a beer. She had no body with which to drink it. No stomach to digest it. No neural synapses for it to dull. This was a fatal flaw in Instrumentality, she had come to realize. No beer.

            You’re lonely even here.

            It’s not that! I just really, really want a beer, Rei.

            Even when joined with all of humanity, you’re still lonely.

            Are you kidding? Here, I’m with you and Kaji and my dad and Ritsuko…

            And yet—

            Oh, fine. I want to make sure they’re okay. Is that so wrong? Is it so wrong to want to be—I just want a beer, okay?

            Why won’t you say it?

            Say what?

            I can see into your soul, the red eyes were saying. I know what you want. Your soul is part of mine.

            Family. Is that what you want to hear? Is it so wrong that I liked living with them? It wasn’t professional or anything but I miss them both and I’m afraid for them out there.

            The eyes smiled. She could have sworn Rei was touching her face, even though she didn’t really have a face. Or—wait—did she now?

            It’s going to hurt. Going back. Major Katsuragi.

            “And that’s what the beer is for!” she chirped. She had a voice again.

            Even union with the entire human race cannot erase the loneliness in our hearts.

            “Rei,” she asked suddenly. She felt as though she were rising out of a warm bath after dozing off. “Are you lonely too?”

            I… do not know.

            “You can tell me if you are. Do you have to stay in there? Do you know?”

            I do not know, Major Katsuragi.

            “NERV is probably gone, Rei. You don’t have to call me Major anymore.”

            I like it. It makes me feel less alone. Isn’t that strange?

            “I bet Shinji would like it. If you came back.”

            Perhaps. I do not know if—I—should. Please take care of them. She saw Rei smiling, for real now. A smile she’d never seen before. Not the terrifying, otherworldly smile of the heartless goddess who had ended the world but the smile of a shy girl, bidding farewell to a friend. I will tell them where you went. You want them to follow?

            “You do that,” Misato said, grinning at the thought. “Ritsuko and I need to get sloshed and debrief this whole mess.”

            And Kaji. You’re hoping he’ll follow you. And then you’ll know for real if—

            The beach. Since when had there been a beach here?

            She struggled to her feet. Rei’s face stared at her, far off over the pale crimson sea. She tried to wave but the face gave no indication that it looked at anything. Around her, the mass-produced EVAs, crucified and lifeless, stared at her, staring at Rei.

            “What the hell,” she muttered. She was wearing everything she’d been wearing back then. Her jacket, skirt, and—something ached in her belly. She pulled her shirt up to find a cruel gash, badly scabbed, disfigured her stomach.

“It would have been nice to skip this,” she sighed and fingered the wound. She shuddered. It would need attention before too long, but at least it wasn’t going to start bleeding any time soon. She hoped.

Misato stretched her legs and exhaled. She saw her breath—for the first time in over a decade.

“Cold,” she whispered. “It’s cold.” It was November, after all. Right? Maybe? It should have been cold, but they’d lost seasons with the Second Impact. Now, though…

Something caught her eye.

The cross. Her medallion. Nailed to a shard of debris. She let out a happy yelp and forced her legs to move, pumping them in an odd simulation of running. She tripped forward, hurled herself back to her feet, and kept running until she collapsed before the necklace.

It was a sign, she knew. She knew who’d left it, and she could read the message, meant only for her—we’re alive. Come find us.

With quaking fingers, she guided its descent around her neck. Her face was wet and her tears were warm. She wiped them with the sleeve of her jacket.

“Guys, hold on,” she whispered into the cold wind. “I’ll be home soon.”

It was a long way to walk but she felt her strength returning with each empty city block. She was hungry and thirsty, but she was alive. There was no doubt about this. The clack of her boots on the sidewalk, echoing in this ruined metropolis—this made her smile. She jumped. She could jump! She had a body again. She clicked her heels together and cried out.

“Look at me!” she squealed, half-delirious. “Look at me, dad. Look at me, Commander Ikari. Look at me, Kaji. Look at me, Ritsuko! I’m still standing!”

She kicked an empty car, minding its own business on the empty street. “Take that, lease payments! Just try and find me now! I’m never paying up!”

Misato pressed her hand to her chest. What was this mad joy? How had she never realized how wonderful the world was? She needed to tell them. They’d never experienced autumn before. They would go to see the leaves change colors. Drink warm tea and cocoa as the wind whipped their hair. Travel what remained of this beautiful world, together, because the strangest monsters of the universe, somehow, some way, hadn’t managed to kill them—

“Wait,” she said aloud, freezing in place. Her stomach rumbled in the stillness. “Where are they?”

She’d started walking back to her apartment as if on auto-pilot but maybe that was wrong—what if they weren’t there? After all, why would they be there? The world was empty. They could have gone anywhere they wanted. They might not even be together. She’d just—assumed—that home to her was home to them. That they’d felt the same thing.

The loneliness lurked at the edges of her heart and she took a steadying breath.

Either way, it made sense to go back to her apartment first, didn’t it? She’d put on a warmer jacket and pants, and if they weren’t there… No matter.

She’d find them. She’d have her little family back. She wouldn’t be lonely.

~

            Shinji awoke for the second morning in a row entangled in Asuka’s limbs. This time, though, she was naked and so was he.

            Memories of the previous night came flooding back and he smiled, half in amazement, half in sorrow, at what they’d done. In response to his thoughts (no, that’s impossible, he reminded himself), she drew closer to him, nuzzling her face into his neck. Her lips found his throat and she suckled gently at the tender flesh.

            She murmured something now, in her sleep, sighing.

            “Idiot.”

            Well, some things would never change, he supposed. He started to get up—really just a gently tremor in his limbs—and then gave up. What did it matter? They didn’t have to go to school. They didn’t have to be at NERV for tests. They didn’t have to pilot the EVAs. They didn’t have to do anything.

            They were free. A kind of free neither of them had ever experienced. Where the only shackles left were invisible. Ensnared by their own dark hearts and the cloying guilt and bitterness that infused every look, every kiss, every touch.

            He wasn’t sure if this was right. If she liked this. If he liked this. But he felt like they had no choice but to cling together in the face of the loneliness, the coldness. They could share their warmth or die.

            Was this love? To have a heart so intertwined with someone else’s? He imagined the strings of his life interwoven with hers. No, not the strings but the veins and arteries of his heart beating in time with hers, regardless of whether they wanted it or not. Was it love? Maybe. But a love unlike the ones he saw on TV or read about in manga. There were no cherry blossoms fluttering about them in the spring, no sparkles or longing looks. No pivotal confession of heart-felt feelings. Instead, they had something darker, crueler, but, he suspected, stronger. Something that would never let them go, no matter what they did. No matter how they hurt each other.

            Did he like her? Did he even like her? If he’d had the choice of any girl in the world, if he’d been unburdened by his own unforgivable sins, would he have picked her? Of course, she was beautiful. That went without saying. Even when she was fully clothed, her beauty embarrassed him: she could pack more into a single look than most people could communicate in an entire evening. Her eyes, her face, the curve of her neck, hair the color of flames.

            She was cruel. But so was he. He’d violated her. But she’d violated him. She was broken, but so was he, and they’d shattered along similar lines. He saw them, in his mind’s eye, as two porcelain dolls, with nearly identical cracks. This meant, though, that you could slide a chunk of Shinji out and into Asuka and repair his cracks with her.

            Somehow, he liked being with her. He liked her teasing. He liked that she refused his passivity. That she pushed him until he spoke, until he reacted.

            He felt most human with her. How was it that there was no word for this feeling triangulated somewhere between love and hate but stronger than both combined?

            Shinji shifted and Asuka’s body moved with him. Her eyes fluttered open and found his.

            Good morning, she mouthed.

            Good morning, he mouthed back. Her lips hung open for a second and he received the invitation hungrily. She made a pleased sound when they broke apart.

            “Have you ever,” she asked softly. “Slept so well that you thought you were only dreaming of sleep? Because you’ve always had nightmares and not having them feels like a dream?”

            He shook his head.

            “Well,” she said with a throaty sigh, settling her head back on his chest. “That’s where I’m at.”

            He slid his fingers through her hair and she writhed, cat-like, into his palm.

            “But don’t let it go to your head, idiot,” she added. “This might be a one-time thing.”

            Shinji must have made a face because the haughty look on hers faltered.

            “Don’t give me that. Maybe not. Probably not, if you play your cards right. But don’t think this means anything it doesn’t.”

            “What does it mean, then?” he asked, carefully. She averted her gaze.

            “Um, why don’t you tell me what you think it means and I’ll tell you if you have it right? Okay?” she asked in a small voice that somehow sounded very far away. Was she blushing? The flesh of her cheeks had definitely turned red.

            Shinji opened and closed his mouth a few times—how, exactly, would he explain this theory about something that isn’t exactly love and isn’t exactly hate, but which would bind them together even more powerfully than either and could tip either way, like a see-saw at a park?

            The door to the apartment clattered open. A tired voice spoke into the silence: “I’m home.”

            Asuka’s head whipped back around to his. Misato, they both mouthed.

~

            It was nearly noon and the place was empty. Standing in the doorway, she felt the sad smile tugging at the corners of her lips. The kitchen was surprisingly clean, but she supposed Shinji must have cleaned it that morning or maybe the evening before. She drifted to the fridge and started to reach for it when she heard the tumult of flesh and fabric in one of the other rooms.

            Don’t get your hopes up, she tried to tell herself. Maybe it’s—someone else. Maybe it’s a stray dog. Maybe it’s—

            She knocked at Shinji’s door. She heard angry whispering and then a throat being cleared.

            “Um, just a second,” Shinji’s hoarse voice called back. Misato took a step away from the door, covering her face with her hands, trying to catch the tears before they started falling.

            A second later, the door whipped open and there they both were: red, disheveled, clad in a confusing array of mismatched clothes fit for different seasons. Asuka’s hair was a tangled mess and Shinji’s wasn’t much better. The three stared at each other for several moments, taking each other in.

            Missato’s eyes drifted from their faces—shocked, flushed, and scarred in Asuka’s case—to their hands. They were holding hands. The two teens followed her gaze, found their hands, and looked at one another, before turning back to Misato.

            Shinji’s mouth stretched into a soft smile.

            “Um, welcome home,” he whispered.

            Asuka was not so subtle. She wormed her arm tight around Shinji’s waist, gripped him to her as she all but shouted: “Welcome home!”

            ~

            Misato’s return couldn’t have come at a worse time, Asuka had decided. If there was one person in all of existence who could distract Shinji from her and derail whatever they were figuring out together—it was Rei. But if there were a second person who could manage that…

            In a flash, Asuka chose her strategy. It was bold, and she knew it would confuse Shinji, but she knew he’d go along with her lead until she had a chance to explain to him.

            “Sorry you had to see us like this,” Asuka giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “Honestly, since we woke up, we haven’t been able to keep our hands off each other.”

            They sat around the dining room table as they had for so many awkward meals in the past. Shinji’s ears perked up at this detail but he said nothing to discredit her. His back was turned to them as he cooked, and she knew from the slump of his shoulders that he was confused. This was fine, but she would need more than silence to work up a convincing simulacrum of intimacy and happiness.

            “Isn’t that right, Shinji?” she cooed, laying extra honey on his name. She prayed he’d hear the threat worked into the syllables, and it seemed he did because he played his part just fine.

            “Oh, don’t tell Misato that,” he chuckled. “It’s embarrassing! She doesn’t want to know all that.”

            Well done, Shinji, she beamed silently into his brain. She giggled and covered her face.

            “You two,” Misato sighed in obvious delight. “You know, I always hoped you two would get together. I knew you had chemistry. I could tell, right from the very beginning.”

            Shinji laughed a little too loud. “From the very beginning, huh?”

            “You two dancing together—it was just about the cutest thing. I think I have a few videos of your practice sessions. We should watch them. It’ll be just like old times.”

            “Oh, how fun!” Asuka squealed. Shinji glanced over his shoulder. Too much. Tone it down. Roger that. He wasn’t a bad partner in this. “I mean, it’ll be silly but there’s nothing else to do, is there?”

            Misato leaned back, exhaling slowly. “You’re right. You’re totally right. Until more people wake up… We can kind of relax, can’t we? I mean, we’ve got shelter. The electric grid is still operational. Water is fine. All that stuff is totally automated and it’ll be fine indefinitely until something needs maintenance but hopefully, we’ll have a few more specialists on hand by that point.” Here, again, was the policy wonk-administrator-tactician who had defeated Angel after Angel. Who worked twenty-hour days and drank herself into a stupor and still managed to outsmart alien intelligences time and time again. Who’d given her life trying to save Asuka. “We won’t have a lot of fresh produce for the foreseeable future, unless either of you want to take up farming—but it’s getting cold, so there’s not much chance of that for a few months, assuming our seasons have reverted to how they were when I was a kid. But the stores around here have plenty of frozen food, it looks like, and we can just take what we want.”

            “Exactly! That’s what we’ve been doing. In fact, Shinji made me schnitzel last night with some frozen pork cutlets he found.” Misato beamed at them, all but shaking in delight.

            “You guys—are—the—cutest!” she squealed. “I can’t stand it! You two are so sweet! I’m so happy for you two. Really.” She reached back to tug Shinji’s shirt. “You saved her out there, didn’t you? I knew it. I knew you’d come through in the end. I knew you’d be a big ol’ hero and save her.”

            Asuka watched the blood drain from Shinji’s face. He glanced back at her and she narrowed her eyes.

            “That’s right,” he said with a steady exhale. “It was a hard fight.”

            “But that’s when I knew that Shinji was the only man for me,” Asuka chimed in, quickly. She hoped it wasn’t too quick. “The other EVAs messed me up pretty badly but Shinji saved me in the end.” She licked her lips. How to explain the scars? “They left a lot of bad wounds, though. It’s sad but, uh—I died in his arms.”

            Misato’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Asuka!” She took the girl’s hands.

            “Yeah. But he kissed me and held me tight. He told me he’d follow me to heaven or hell or whatever I went, and he’d bring me back. And then I woke up in the pool with everyone else, so it was okay. And then we woke up later and—here we are.”

            “Just like Sleeping Beauty!”

            “Yeah,” Shinji murmured, setting plates down in front of them before joining them. “Something like that.”

            “So, what have you two been up to? Besides,” and here Misato winked. “You know. I won’t ask too many questions—I saw the medicine in the bathroom. You two really have been going at it. Try not to have too many slip ups like that. At least not until we’ve got a doctor or two around.”

            “Ah, I’m so embarrassed I left that out!” Asuka gasped. Of course, she wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest. She was simply relieved: Misato had supplied an explanation for the medication that didn’t come near the truth and that’s all she needed.

            “We’ve been going on a lot of walks,” Shinji added. “And we found a bar we like.”

            Misato’s smile wavered. “Um, a bar?”

            “It’s fun,” Asuka said. Good work, idiot—let’s get Misato talking about something she likes. “Shinji found a book of cocktail recipes and we started going through them alphabetically. We go, like, every night.”

            As soon as she spoke, Asuka realized she’d overplayed her hand. Misato stared at them.

            “You guys are kind of young for that.”

            “You drink all the time,” Asuka growled, the cheery mask slipping. “I saw you eyeing the beer in the fridge when Shinji was cooking.”

            “Well, that’s different,” Misato said with a wave of her hand. “I’m an adult.”

            “We do other—adult—things.”

            “But those things can’t really hurt you if you’re careful,” Misato said, picking her words carefully. “But drinking is…” And here she sighed. “You’re right. I’m not really the one to give you two advice. I haven’t been the best role model.”

            “Come with us to the bar, and you’ll see how fun it is!” Asuka redonned the façade, and she was determined there’d be no cracks this time. She caught Shinji’s eye and he looked away. Fine. As long as he didn’t say anything to make her suspicious.

            “Maybe. Maybe.” Misato sighed and smiled. “I guess—having a little party to celebrate all of us being together again makes sense.”

            “Exactly! A party!” Asuka giggled. “Shinji, doesn’t that sound fun? You’ll make food and cocktails?”

            “Of course,” he stuttered. Look a little bit more excited, idiot, she thought.

            “But only if I can manage to keep my hands off you for long enough,” she added.

            If Misato noticed a disconnect between Shinji’s dimmed eyes and Asuka’s feather-light giggles, she said nothing about it. Instead, she relented and slid over to the fridge, selected a beer, and cracked it open with a satisfying hiss.

            “You guys,” she whispered into the foam.

            “Asuka,” he said as soon as they stepped into the elevator. “What was that?”

            “Listen, idiot,” she grunted and slammed his shoulders against the wall. She found herself surprised for a moment—where had that come from? Whatever. It just meant she was feeling stronger. More like herself. “Misato doesn’t know what happened. I don’t know if she didn’t see everything in the soup, or if she forgot or what, but I don’t care. We can’t let her know about—what you did. And didn’t do.”

            He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

            “Why not? I don’t want to lie.”

            “Because! It would hurt her, idiot! She thinks she died to save us! Do you want to take that away from her? And look at how excited she is to be back here! She thinks we’re in love and that makes her happy and it would be cruel if she found out the truth.”

            “And what’s the truth?”

            “Don’t start with that again.”

            “Asuka, I—“

            She tightened her grip on his shoulders.

            “Say it, idiot,” she whispered. Her stomach was doing nervous flips. The elevator reached the ground level and dinged. They stood like that, his eyes on the floor, as the door opened, and then closed exactly seven seconds later.

            “Coward,” she muttered after another minute.

            “Why do you care about her feelings?” he asked later, when they were shopping. She all but jumped when she heard his voice. They’d been silent on the walk over and had, wordlessly, been grabbing things off the grocery shelves. Their selection was a random mix of frozen things, dried ingredients, and candies. At one point, Shinji had tried to edit their cart down into a menu that made sense together, but Asuka merely retrieved the things he’d tried to set back on the shelves. “You never did before.”

            “Maybe I’m trying to be nice.”

            “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

            “Do you like these too?” she asked, holding up a package of frozen dumplings. He nodded and she tossed them into the cart. “I don’t want her to pity me. I already have to deal with your pity. I couldn’t stand hers.”

            “How do I pity you?” His voice rose. “And even if I did, why would that be so wrong? We’ve both had terrible lives.”

            “Because it’s rude!” she screamed, her voice echoing in the empty store. “It’s rude and it means you think I’m weak!”

            “Maybe,” he said, turning away. “You are weak.”

            Asuka’s fingers dug hard into the package of edamame she had been examining. “Say that again.”

            “Maybe you are weak. So what? We’re all weak. Maybe you’ll just have to accept you’re not that special. That you’re just like me.”

            “How am I like you?”

            “You’re afraid.”

            “No, I’m not.”

            “Of me.”

            “I have a right to be afraid of you. After what you did.”

            “But that’s not why you’re afraid. You’re afraid of—of—how I feel. And how you feel. I think.”

            “And how’s that?”

            “You try to trap me into being the one to say it,” he yelled, hurling a bag of rice at the floor. It caught on something and tore open, spilling pearl white grains all over the jaundiced tile floor. “Because you’re afraid to say it yourself. You want to know it’s a sure thing, before you let yourself feel it. Before you admit feeling it.”

            “But you won’t say it either!” she said, a dry sob hurtling over her lips. She had been leaning against one of the glass doors in the frozen food aisle and now she slid down it, bowing her head. “You’re just as much of a coward as I am, so don’t act all high and mighty.”

            “What are we afraid of?”

            “Rejection.”

            “Pain.”

            “Being alone.”

            “That sounds right.”

            He gave her his hand and after a second, she took it. She was in his arms again and even though the whole aisle was ice, she was warm.

            “If someone pities me,” she whispered. “Then it’s like it was all for nothing. My whole life. Being… strong. Piloting an EVA.”

            “Don’t you think,” he asked after a second. “There’s more to life than that? I mean, there are no more EVAs. Everything is easy for us, for now. You can relax, like Misato said.” He pressed his cheek to hers and she was surprised to find it damp. “You can be weak.”

            They kissed. She started to unbutton his shirt.

            “Not here.”

            “Why not? You said yourself. We can do whatever we want.”

            She kissed his chest. She hated his silence, so she bit one of his nipples until he yelped.

            “This makes me feel less alone,” she whispered. “You’re still my slave, aren’t you?”

            It took him long enough to answer that she started to feel nervous, but the reply finally came: “Of course. Forever, right?”

            “That’s right. This might be the last time we can for a few days, by the way. Because of the medication. I took it this morning.”

            “There’s nowhere to lie down here.”

            “We don’t need to lie down,” she told him, and began to work her jeans off.

            “You guys were gone a while,” Misato laughed when they arrived home. Pen-Pen balanced on her lap, looking as if nothing had changed—as if the world hadn’t ended twice within the past fifteen years, as if alien gods hadn’t assaulted the Earth and reduced the entire human race to primordial goop. Misato was on her third beer, and had a selection of magazines and manga spread out before her—she didn’t seem concerned with the state of the planet either. “I was afraid something happened!”

            “We had to go to a few stores,” Shinji said before Asuka could come up with a good reply. “We decided to stock up a bit.” Asuka watched him shift his collar around to hide the lip-shaped bruise on his clavicle and she bit her lip to keep from grinning too much.

~

            Misato stopped dead outside the bar. The late autumn evening gloom had descended and it was made even darker by the lonely streets. Somehow, this bar managed to make everything even blacker.

            “This place? This is your bar? This shit-hole?”

            “Oh, don’t knock it!” Asuka shushed. She’d held onto Shinji’s arm the entire way, and Misato briefly worried she might be cutting off circulation to the poor boy’s extremities. Still, he seemed happy enough and they whispered at each other, walking a few steps behind her. Of course, they were absolutely besotted with one another. It’d be like this for a while, she wagered. Puppy love. But who cared? Maybe this way, they’d get at least a few years to be stupid kids. She wanted nothing more than that for them and in this weird way, in a way that resembled virtually no adolescence ever experienced during the course of human history, it looked like they might just get it.

She followed them into the bar and took a seat next to Asuka, with Shinji playing bartender. The teens seemed unconcerned by the scattered mounds of clothing left behind by raptured bar patrons, but they gave Misato the willies.

“What’s on the menu tonight, Liebchen?”

“Um, let’s see—we had a caipirinha and a daiquiri last time, I think.”

“All the sugar gave me an awful hangover.”

“You’ve been going through the book alphabetically,” Misato observed. “That’s—one way to do it.”

“The Aviation was still the best,” Asuka declared. “The Blood and Sand was the worst. And it looked like LCL. Seriously. Shinji can make you one.”

“I’ll pass. Shinji, can you just hand me a beer?”

“Uh, sure. Asuka, there aren’t really any interesting cocktails that start with ‘E’—how about a French 75?”

Soon, they all had drinks. They raised them together, sipped, and Misato watched as Asuka all but drained her cocktail.

“Woah, slow down! That’s not how you’re supposed to drink a cocktail.”

“But it’s tasty.”

“But you’ll get drunk too fast and you’ll be a mess.”

“But that’s what you do.”

Misato forced herself to hold her gaze with Asuka.

“But I’m an adult. I have a bit more of a tolerance. And this is just beer.”

“Fine! Shinji, make me another and I’ll drink that one slow.”

“That’s—not how it works…” she started to say but Shinji was already fixing another cocktail. Well, what would it hurt?

A few drinks later, Misato stopped caring what they were drinking. Vaguely, in the back of her mind, she knew she should try to be more of a guardian here, should try to protect them and teach them—something—but had she herself ever learned whatever lesson this was supposed to be?

“That’s the thing about Instrumentality,” she declared, raising another glass. “No beer. Who ever thought that was going to work? Seriously.”

Asuka laughed. A bit too loud. She was drunk too, though, Misato thought with a silly grin and leaned on the girl.

“I’m so glad we’re all back together. It’ll be just like before, but better. I promise.”

She turned her glass around. The bubbles in the beer really did remind her of LCL. How had she never seen it before?

“So, what did you guys see? In there.”

“What?” they asked, in unison, two pairs of wide eyes turning to her.

“I mean, when we were all part of that big… soul.” She laughed. “I know I saw you guys in there but I can’t really remember what I saw. It was pretty dramatic and embarrassing, right?” She was blushing. “You saw me and Kaji, right?”

“Um, maybe,” Shinji murmured. “I don’t really remember.”

“There was a lot,” Asuka added.

“You guys are sweet. Well, whatever you saw, just remember—I made some mistakes when I was a kid. So try to learn from them.”

“Being with Kaji was not a mistake,” Asuka growled suddenly. “It could never be.”

“Oh, I don’t mean that,” Misato giggled. “Just—spending a week in his bed. That’s not really responsible. But you can be silly when you’re young.” She sighed. “You two get a chance to be silly now. No more Angels. No more EVAs.”

“It already sounds boring,” Asuka sighed. “Even if NERV was awful.”

“Being a kid is supposed to be boring. You’re supposed to study hard and hate your parents and lose your mind from worrying about getting into university. You’re supposed to have crushes on people who’ll never love you back and try things and be disappointed when you suck at them. And then, you think back on it, and you wish you could go back and try it all over, and you know you can’t. But there’s something kind of bittersweet in it. That longing.”

They were watching her. God, what am I talking about?

“Sorry, I’m drunk,” she giggled. “NERV was awful, though. I’m—sorry. That I helped bring you two into it.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Shinji said softly. “It was my dad. And SEELE.”

“Mhm,” Misato murmured. “I’d like to get my hands on any of your dad’s notes. Files. Records. Whatever. I wonder if they survived. Maybe not at NERV but Fuyutsuki might have kept something off-site…”

“What’s the point?” Asuka grunted. “It’s over. They’re all gone.”

“People will want to know,” Misato said. “Eventually. When they start coming back. We might be the first but I bet there’ll be others soon. Like waking up from the party of the century—the millennium—with a wicked hangover and no idea what happened. The world will be different from now on but we get to take a few deep breaths right now before it changes even more.”

“What if I don’t want them to know what happened?” Asuka muttered. There was a dark look on her face.

“But it’s not just up to you! All of humanity was involved.”

“And they all saw into my soul! I don’t want to see any of them again!” she yelled suddenly. She flung her glass at the floor and Misato squeaked as it shattered.

She was about to reprimand the girl when Shinji appeared behind her with a broom.

“Hey,” he whispered, and said something to her and she took his arm like a child grabbing a favorite toy. She wrapped it around her shoulders, placing herself in a sort of headlock and gripping his forearm. He kept whispering and she nuzzled her face against his shoulder.

“Sorry,” she said, finally. “I’m kind of drunk.”

“It’s fine,” Misato said as Shinji let her go. He began to sweep up the glass and when he disappeared to throw it out, she whispered: “He really takes care of you.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why? It’s sweet. It shows how much he likes you. And understands you.”

Her face flushed redder than even the French 75’s had managed. She bowed her head until Shinji came back and the look she gave him was veiled from Misato by her red tresses.

“We had some intense moments, in there,” Shinji began. “The two of us. But we talked it out when we woke up.”

“I’m glad,” Misato said, and poured the rest of her beer into her glass.

“I don’t like people I don’t know being able to see into my soul,” Asuka murmured once more. “Or even people I know. I think a little privacy isn’t too much to ask.”

“Well, the good thing is that it’s so hard to focus on any one soul’s experiences—no one will remember what they saw. I mean, I barely remember anything from in there.” She thought for a second. “There was a train. And then our kitchen.”

Their heads whipped around to stare at her.

“And a hospital. But that’s all I remember. Just… places.”

“Yeah,” Shinji said after a few moments of thought. “Me too.”

~

The next day, she was sick and not just from her hangover. The cramps had hit hard and she sent Shinji out early to find ibuprofen. Between the ache in her skull and the ache in her gut, she barely had room to think. Instead, she stayed in bed till the late afternoon, wishing Shinji would come and hold her, and not finding a voice with which to call him.

They’d slept next to one another, and in the dark anonymity of the quilt, she could draw close to him and pretend she was someone else, he was someone else, and only in that way, could she be honest and say the words to herself that she’d wanted to hear him say. She felt like some primal creature, marking her mate with her scent, or maybe the other way around—maybe their scent was one now. She found this thought awoke feelings in her chest that tickled in a pleasantly terrifying way.

Everything had moved so fast. But should she be surprised? After all, they’d known each other for so long. No, that wasn’t true either. They’d known each other for less than a year. But what they’d experienced together could fill a lifetime. She’d felt deep recesses of his soul—his literal soul—and he’d known her in virtually every way it was possible to know someone so who was to say this was moving too fast?

It scared her. How quickly she could lose her hatred for him. How quickly the hatred turned to… something else entirely.

She shouldn’t forgive him, just because she wanted his warmth. Just because he could be so kind to her that it gutted her. Just because he could dispel loneliness with a touch or a look.

Anything he gave her, she reminded herself, could be taken away. The pain of loss, she knew, was worse than the pleasure of love. If her mother had taught her anything, it was this.

Still—

Maybe—

This would be—

Different. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt.

            There was a dark little flame in her chest that wouldn’t go out. It stoked itself on the pleasure of possessing him, and his kindness was kindling to the fire. No matter what she tried, how she reminded herself of how damned they both were, it refused to die. Pathetic. Utterly pathetic, she thought. But still: she couldn’t help, in her quiet moments, as she lay with him or watched him hum as he cooked for her, as he held her, as she clawed him and kissed him, leaving marks that would brand him as hers, she couldn’t help at these times but to draw inside her chest for a moment and hold the flame in her hands. It burned, certainly, but it was beautiful and it was spreading.

            It was late. I should get up, before they worry about me, she thought. The thought surprised her. They might worry about her. It was something she would have struggled to imagine once. Now, though, she believed it.

~

            “She’s really out of it, huh?” Misato asked him at lunch as he sat down.

            “Yeah. The pills really bothered her stomach, she said. I guess it’s to be expected.”

            “Right. It can’t be helped. It was sweet of you to go get her painkillers.” Misato winked at him. “And me. First hangover since coming back.”

            “It was no problem. I had a headache too,” he chuckled, picking at his bowl. He couldn’t muster much of an appetite. Mostly, he prayed Misato wouldn’t ask him any questions he’d find hard to answer. Not about what had happened.

            “Say, Shinji,” she murmured after a few minutes of quiet. “Remember what I said the last time I saw you?”

            “Um,” he stammered, looking down at his plate. “When we, uh, kissed?”

            Misato giggled. “Yeah. About the adult stuff that comes after that? I guess you’ll have to forget about that now.”

            “I guess.”

            “I can’t say I’m not at least a teeny-tiny bit jealous of Asuka,” she said, leaning back. “But I’m happy for you two. Really. If there’s anything I can do or anything you need—if you want me out of the apartment sometimes or—or even if you guys want a place to yourself—“

            “No!” He blushed. “I mean, it’s nice, all of us, living here. And there’s already stuff here and everything. All our things and food and everything.” He was sputtering and he hoped she couldn’t trace the anxiety and guilt in his voice. “I suppose we could take one of these empty apartments in the building but—“

            “Why bother? Good. That’s kind of how I feel. I’m tired of being lonely. I didn’t think I’d miss you guys as much as I did. Even though we were all together, it didn’t feel like it, did it?”

            “No. I don’t think Instrumentality worked. Or maybe I did it wrong. But I didn’t feel calm or happy or loved or anything in there. Just—numb. A little sad. Scared. Bored. Lonely.”

            “Exactly. Nothing too awful—“

            Speak for yourself, Shinji retorted silently.

            “—but is it worth giving up your individuality for? I don’t think so. Not for me, at least. Maybe there’s something wrong with me too.”

            She shifted again and winced.

            “Is there something wrong?”

            “Oh, it’s nothing, really. When I woke up, I had a big scab from where I got shot and it’s been throbbing. I should take a look at it, I guess. I don’t want it to get infected right now.”

            Shinji nodded. “Asuka has some scars from—what happened.”

            “She must be self-conscious about them.”

            “Yeah, I think she definitely is.”

            “You need to be very supportive about that, you know. A girl’s body image is very fragile.” She touched the spot on her chest where Shinji knew an old, healed scar rested. “Ugly boys get pretty girls all the time. Just look at your mom and dad. No offense.”

            She winked and he grinned.

            “But girls are conditioned to be self-conscious. It’s cruel, but that’s how it is. And you two are so young. You can never miss an opportunity to make her feel beautiful, okay? I wish… I’ll leave it there, actually.”

            Shinji nodded. He felt he should say something, but the smile on Misato’s face assured him that nothing more was needed. She reached to toss her empty beer can in the trash but gave a small gasp.

            “Yeah. I definitely need to do something about this stupid thing.”

            “I dressed Asuka’s wounds. Do you want me to take a look at it?”

            “Oh, man, Shinji, would you? Honestly, I’m such a baby about things like this. Ritsuko always made fun of me, but I go to pieces over a paper cut. Other people’s blood doesn’t do anything for me, but the sight of my own freaks me out.” She smiled, and he saw a drop of sweat slide down her temple. “Ever since the Second Impact.”

            “Are you warm?” he asked. She shrugged.

            “I guess. It’s pretty hot in here, isn’t it?”

            “We don’t have the heat on.”

            He leaned over the table and felt her forehead.

            “You’re burning up. Let me take a look at the scab?”

            They moved to the living room and Misato stripped her shirt off. Shinji found himself almost blushing at the sight—she wasn’t wearing a bra—but Misato crossed her arms a second later.

            “Sorry. But it’s not like it’s anything you haven’t seen, huh?”

            “Um, yeah. I guess.”

            He knelt and peered close at the gnarled rupture of flesh, ringed with red. He pressed it with his finger and she winced. A dribble of pale yellow pus slithered out.

            “I think it’s infected,” he sighed. “I can go to the pharmacy and get antibiotics. In the meanwhile, I guess—I should drain it, probably? And clean it?”

            “Right,” Misato nodded. She had bent her head back, so she stared at the ceiling. “If you can find a needle or something, you can sterilize it with the burner on the stove. Or anything sharp, really.” She sighed. “Can I stop thinking about it and just turn that part over to you?”

            “You relax,” he said, voice soft. “I’ll get this cleaned up before you know it.”

            He couldn’t find a needle, but there was a small scalpel in a neglected NERV-issued first aid kit stashed under the sink in the bathroom. He held it to the burner’s blue flame until he was sure nothing could have survived it, and knelt between Misato’s knees

            “Here I go,” he whispered, and Misato grabbed his free hand as he pierced the tangled mess of hardened flesh.

            It was over in moments. He cleaned her up, wiped down the area with an antiseptic, and wrapped her belly with medical tape, bracing gauze against the wound.

            Misato wiped her forehead and sighed, wincing once more as she tested the bandage, twisting in the chair.

            “You’re a life-saver, Shinji. Seriously.”

            “It’s the least I could do. You got this protecting me.”

            “Consider the favor returned.”

            “I don’t think I could ever make up for everything you’ve done for me,” he said, suddenly. She leaned forward, seeing him kneel on the floor before her. He gripped the knees of his jeans and had squeezed his eyes shut.

            “Are you—crying?”

            He shook his head, but she could see he was lying.

            “Oh, Shinji, Shinji,” she cooed and swept him into her arms. She pressed his face to her neck. “It’s over now. It’s all over. We’re safe. You. Me. Asuka. We’re all safe. No one’s going to hurt us anymore.”

            She guided her lips to his hair and that’s when she saw the door to his room slide open.

            “What’s going on here?” Asuka asked.

            Misato managed a smile.

            “The gunshot wound on my belly is infected. Shinji was taking care of it for me and we were reminiscing about how it happened.”

            “When you kissed him,” Asuka all but spat out.

            “Yeah, that’s right.” Misato’s voice sounded distant. “But you don’t need to worry. That’s in the past. It was nothing.”

            “Then why are you naked?” she hissed and turned back to the bedroom. The door clattered as she slammed it shut.

            Shinji sat back on his heels, wiping his eyes.

            “Sorry. Asuka is—a little possessive of me, I think.”

            “She’s a teenaged girl. Of course she is. She acted like this with Kaji and she wasn’t even in a relationship with him.” Misato sighed and lifted herself back to the chair. “Go and make sure she’s okay. I’ve survived this long. I can wait another hour or two for the antibiotics.”

            “You’re sure?”

            “Go. In retrospect—we could have done this differently. We should have. Things are different now. I need to remember that. It’s my fault.”

            The smile on her face was desperately sad, if only for how hard she was clearly trying to keep it from looking sad. Shinji wanted to cry again.

            “Go.”

~

            As she expected, he came to her, groveling, to apologize. She curled up in his bed, faced away from him, and when he put his arm on her, she threw it off.

            “You already broke the rule,” she growled after listening to his pathetic excuses for fifteen minutes. “Talked to another woman. I let it slide, because it’s Misato. But then I find her tits all over you.”

            “Asuka, you saw me crying. Do you think I was enjoying that?”

            She turned over.

            “Were you? Misato’s big tits. You think about them, don’t you? You’ve masturbated to them? Don’t lie to me. I’ll know.”

            “That’s not the point.”

            “That’s exactly the point.”

            “I don’t know what you want me to be.”

            “Mine. That’s all. It’s simple.”

            “Then say that.”

            “No. Say what you feel.”

            “Would it make a difference?” She turned to face him. He had been crying, she saw, but she knew her face was dry. There was power in this. She distorted her voice: “’Oh, Shinji, I’m so in love with you. Please, let’s get married and go live in a fairy castle beyond the sea. I want to have babies with you. I just love you so much!’”

            “I don’t want that.”

            “Then what do you want?”

            “For you to—be nice to me. Be honest with me.”

            “You wouldn’t like that either,” she growled. They watched each other, animals locked in a cage together.

            “Go ahead. You could strangle me now,” she whispered. “Run away with Misato. She’ll be everything you want.”

            “What do you think I want?”

            “A lover and a mother. I can barely be one of those.”

            That did it. He collapsed into the desk chair near the bed, caught his face in his palm.

            “I told you. Being trapped with me would be hell,” she whispered. “Go away. I don’t want to see you right now.”

            He started to say something but the tears garbled it.

            “I know I’m being awful. But I don’t care. This is what you get for hurting me. And now you’ll leave like everyone else leaves.”

            “I need to get medicine for Misato.”

            “I know. Go.”

            “You told me to go.”

            “Go,” she hissed.

            He didn’t. He pushed her over. No, no, no, she thought. Don’t do this. His arms descended on her once more and she couldn’t fight it.

            “I’m not leaving yet,” his voice, quavering, told her. “If this is what you need to hear—“

            And he whispered it in her ear. She shook in his arms as the tears burst. She said it back to him, and immediately regretted it, and then decided she didn’t regret it, and then decided she could both regret and not regret it.

            He told her lots of things. Too many things to keep track of. Some theory about their hearts being tied up together or something. He drew a little diagram on the wall before her eyes with his finger, as if these invisible marks would prove something. He kept drawing a triangle and putting them at the top and he had all sorts of dumb ideas about what the other two corners were. But he held her attention, because he held her. He kept coming back to hold her, no matter how badly she tried to hurt him, and this had to be something. This had to be real. The dark flame had burned out of control and consumed her heart.

            “Shinji, I’ll try,” she remembered whispering at one point. “I’ll try to be better but I can’t promise it. Please, please don’t leave me. Please don’t despair of me. Please just keep holding me.”

            And so he kept holding her, until dreams took her away.

~

            “Sounds like you two cried it out,” Misato said as he eased the door to their room closed.

            “Yeah. I think we figured something out.”

            She grinned. The sweat beading on her forehead glistened in the evening sun.

            “Good. She’s going to be a handful, you know.”

            “I know.”

            “But I bet you’re up to the challenge.”

            Shinji pulled on his jacket. “I hope so.” He paused, looked at his hands, and he was smiling. “For once—I don’t want to run away.”