Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pain. 

Pain like fire, rippling across her body. 

Incomprehensible pain. Overwhelming. 

She couldn’t remember any pain like this, anything that could even hope to compare. 

She couldn’t remember anything beyond the pain, anything that had come before, anything that had led to this eternal, excruciating, unending moment. 

The pain wrapped around her like a blanket, driving her deeper into its oblivion like a stone sinking deeper and deeper underwater, until darkness swallowed it. 

Until darkness swallowed her. 

Ritsuko Akagi hadn’t slept in more hours than she could count. NERV was one crisis after another, relentlessly demanding her attention. She hadn’t even had a chance to catnap on the trip back from Mt Asama, because she’d had to play trauma surgeon in the back of a VTOL. 

That had been twelve hours ago, and she’d had exactly enough time to have a cigarette and change into a lab coat that wasn’t splattered in blood before she had to return to the volcano site to organise and supervise the Eva recovery efforts. 

She understood, of course, why. The Angels weren’t going to shift their timetable to suit her needs. She understood that, better than most. What was a few hours of sleep against the fate of all mankind, after all. 

It wore on her, though. It was unsustainable, a race between burning out and the end of Seele’s scenario. And today, Ritsuko was sure, it was a race she was losing. 

“Dr Akagi, you may enter,” Commander Gendo Ikari’s voice echoed out into the corridor. His voice betrayed no preoccupation, no worry or concern. Again, she understood why. Gendo’s concern for anything outside of what concerned his and Seele’s scenarios was limited. It was monstrous, perhaps. But no more monstrous than anything else they’d done. And better the monster that left you alive.

The click of her heels against the etched ceramic tiles echoed around the cavernous office as she strode towards him. Gendo swiveled himself towards her, dragging his gaze away from the vast side windows, and the views of the geofront.

“Well?” he placed his elbows on his desk, fingers intertwined. 

“Unit 02 has been recovered, and taken to the repair cages. The unit has suffered heat damage across 78% of its surface, but outside of the injury site, most of that is superficial. The armour plating from the extremities can be salvaged, but the rest will need to be scrapped and replaced.” Ritsuko checked her clipboard, as much an excuse to take a moment to breathe and think as to remind herself of what was written there. “The Type-D equipment is completely unsalvageable, however. The Eva’s entry plug interface system is going to need a complete replacement. It’s likely to take longer than the regeneration efforts on the torso, depending on how much we can salvage from the spare synch test systems.”

“And Unit 01?” A flash of concern appeared in Gendo’s eyes, almost hidden behind his glasses. It disappeared almost as quickly, but not fast enough that she missed it. 

“Superficial damage to the head and torso, and more substantial damage to the hands and arms, but nothing we can’t buff out. She’ll be 100% in a week, at most, and could easily sortie as is, though not at 100% readiness.” Ritsuko bit down a bitter remark about how much he cared about Unit 01. It wasn’t productive. It didn’t help. He had his reasons. 

“Excellent work.” He met her eyes for a moment, but turned to face the geofront view once more. “And the Second Children?”

Ritsoku winced. She had hoped he already knew, and she’d be spared the task of thinking about Asuka. The pain in the girl’s eyes. The way her hair stank, and how it crumbled to ash in Ritsuko’s hands. She was not Misato, she didn’t see the pilots as her surrogate family, but even a heart of stone would have been broken by the young woman’s state. Or cracked, at least.

“Pilot Soryu’s injuries were extensive. The Angel’s attack allowed magma to penetrate into the entry plug mechanism, flash-boiling the plug’s LCL reserves. The overpressure tore a hole into the plug proper, causing a combination of magma and liquified components to intrude. She suffered fourth degree burns across 22% of her total body surface area, with third degree burns covering a further 15%. Her Type-D plug suit seems to have prevented the injuries being any worse, and the burns are restricted mostly to her legs and arms.” 

She took a deep breath, and continued, trying to ignore Gendo’s impassiveness. 

“The last I heard was that they had amputated both legs just below the hip, her right arm above the elbow, and the entire left arm, including the shoulder joint. She also has signs of severe organ damage, but I’m told it’s too early to tell anything more specific.”

“Unfortunate.” 

A long pause stretched out between them. She knew he wasn’t finished with her. And she could wait. She’d played these little power games with him enough times. She’d wait.

“Can she pilot in this state?” The question caught her like a punch in the gut. The topic wasn’t exactly unexpected. The Angels were, as ever, foremost in Gendo’s mind. She blinked, trying to collect herself. He really was a bastard. She knew that, and yet here he was, managing to truly outdo her expectations. 

“N-no, I don’t believe so. Even if she’s psychologically able, without her limbs, the sync system won’t work. Without the nerve clusters, and an intact ego-construct…” She trailed off, struggling to put all her objections into words. “If we could install prosthetics, maybe? But she’d need months, years even, to acclimate sufficiently, if she ever even could.”

Ritsuko was rambling now, so she forced herself back into silence. 

“That will not do. Unit 02 needs to be combat capable. And for that, it needs its pilot.” Gendo shifted his weight slightly, and the light streaming in from outside caught on his glasses, turning them opaque white. “Unless the Marduk Institute uncovers a suitable pilot before repairs to Unit 02 are complete.”

Risuko pursed her lips. They both knew Marduk to be a fiction, and that Unit 02 was unpilotable by any of the fourth level candidates they had. 

“Do you have any alternative suggestions, sir?” She chose each word carefully, giving her sentence a stilted, awkward feeling. She was on unstable ground here, with the distinct feeling that he’d intended the conversation to end up here.

“Transplanting unclaimed bio-material onto the subject would provide sufficient framework for the ego-construct to repair itself.” Gendo stood, his movements as slow and purposeful as Ritsuko’s words, but hardly so uneasy. 

“Sir?” 

Gendo took a step towards the window, and clasped his hands behind him. 

“There remain twelve spares in the Dummy System tank. You are authorised to take one and rebuild the Second Children.”

She became aware of the beeping first. It seemed to stretch out long and slow, and then snap forwards and fast, and back again. A fuzzy blue-ish light faded into view. What was that? She tried to focus on it, maybe figure out what it was.

“She’s coming out of it. Get the doctor.” A vague voice to her left. She tried to look at it. Maybe it was someone she knew? The light in front of her didn’t move. She didn’t seem to move either.

She heard something click. Was that a door? 

“Don’t try and move. You’ll be fine.” Who was that? She didn’t recognise the voice. She stopped hearing it after a moment, though, so she was sure it didn’t matter.

Her arms were covered in bandages. Something had happened to them. Weird. They’d blown the leg of Unit 02, she remembered that. But her actual leg had been fine. Her arms, too. Weird. She couldn’t feel them, either. Although, now that she thought about it, she couldn’t really feel anything. Weird.

“You’re awake. Good.” Asuka turned her head to face this new voice. Dr Akagi. She opened her mouth to ask the blonde woman something, but a rasping croak was all that came out. 

“Don’t try to talk. Your throat is still healing.” Asuka scowled, but Akagi was right, and her throat did hurt.

“You were injured rather significantly in your last engagement. We’ve had to reconstruct significant parts of your body.” Asuka returned her gaze to the ceiling as Akagi continued. “You’re lucky to be alive, frankly.”

“The angel.” Asuka asked, her words rasping against her throat like a mouthful of knives. “ Did I kill the angel?”

“Barely.” Dr Akagi pursed her lips, and looked down at the girl. “But yes. You did.”

“When can I leave here?” Asuka closed the one eye that wasn’t covered in bandages. As exhausted as she was, and as much as she wanted to go back to sleep, she wanted to leave more. The antiseptic stench, the hum of the fluorescent lights, not being allowed to so much as sit upright without permission, it was infuriating. It was too much, and she wanted out. 

Sure, she wasn’t exactly able to sit up without help at the moment, but she’d been injured in battle, so that was to be expected. And anyway, she’d be back on her feet soon enough, so keeping her here was unnecessary.

“Probably not as soon as you’re thinking.” Asuka snorted, and winced at the pain that followed. She could hear Dr Akagi rifle papers. 

“Maybe a week. It depends on how quickly your body acclimates to the grafts. And, of course, your rehabilitation progress.”

A week. She could do a week. There was nothing she couldn’t put her mind to. A week would be easy. 

Why was he so useless? He hadn’t even been the one fighting the Angel, and he’d screwed up. Asuka had almost died, and he could’ve stopped it. Shinji turned from his left to his right side, gazing at the black-blue shadows playing over the bedroom wall. If only he’d moved faster. He should have been able to get her out of the lava quicker. 

But he hadn’t. And she’d almost died as a result. 

“I wish I could sleep.” he muttered, not for the first time that night. The long nights empty of anything but the vaguest snatches of rest had become as familiar to him since Mt Asama as Asuka’s boisterous morning routine had been before. 

It’d only been a week. But Asuka hadn’t been awake for most of that, and it’d felt like a year. Knowing she was in surgery, and being able to do nothing about it had been torture. 

What had made it worse was being stuck at home with nothing to do. Misato had been spending her waking hours at NERV, usually stumbling home after midnight exhausted from work or drunk from the bar, and his friends and classmates were still in Okinawa on the school trip. So he had time on his hands.

Time to dissect every mistake he’d made on Mt Asama. Every point he could have changed the course of the operation, maybe stopped Asuka getting hurt. Maybe he could have leapt in earlier. Maybe he could have volunteered. 

Maybe he could have tried to stand up to Misato about not getting to go on the trip. If they’d been in Okinawa when the Angel chrysalis had been discovered, would NERV have tried to capture it, or would they have just had Ayanami destroy it with Unit-00? 

He could have changed so much, but he hadn’t. He could have helped, but he didn’t. Misato had tried to tell him he’d saved Asuka, but he hadn’t really. He’d bumbled into the volcano and grabbed Unit-02 at the last moment. He could’ve done exactly that any time before he had. 

Shinji scrunched his eyes closed and pressed his thumb down. His SDAT started, once again, trying to drown out his thoughts. It wouldn’t work. It hadn’t done so for the whole week. But what else could he do.

The first thing Asuka noticed about her arms was how pale they were. Like porcelain, or her father’s arms in winter, when he hadn’t seen the sun. 

Or like Rei. The thought flashed into her mind unbidden and unwanted, and she thrust it out as fast as it had come. She didn’t care about Miss Perfect. She wasn’t relevant to Asuka’s life, outside of being the sorry pilot of a superfluous Eva. And Asuka was going to make sure things stayed that way.

Dr Akaki said the pale skin was a side effect of the reconstruction process, something to do with the melanisation process being interrupted or improperly activated, or something like that. Dr Akagi had said a lot of things, and Asuka hadn’t exactly listened to all of it. But she couldn’t have been expected to. After all, she was recovering from major surgery, and no one could be expected to listen to all of one of Dr Akagi’s lectures, no matter how smart they were. She’d listened to the most important things, anyway. 

The second thing she noticed about her arms was how hard it was to feel things with them. She felt like everything from her shoulders down were wrapped in cotton wool, like they’d gone to sleep from under-use or cold, or because she’d slept strangely. The nerve endings were still regrowing, apparently. Asuka didn’t exactly care why, though. What she cared about was how annoying it was that she couldn’t hold a glass of water without spilling half of it down her front. It had better stop soon. 

It was so frustrating. Here she was, barely able to feed herself. The pilot of Evangelion Unit-02, three angel kills under her belt, and all she could do was slowly ferry scoops of rice from the plastic hospital tray to her mouth. With a spoon, like a child. She glared at the spoon in her hand, as if she could incinerate it with her eyes. As if it was responsible somehow.

Like a fucking child.

She screamed, her throat feeling like it was tearing apart again. Her grip tightened around the spoon, and she hurled it away from her. As far away as she could.

It clattered impotently on the floor, barely clearing the foot of the bed.

“The splicing seems to be functioning as expected. You’re healing very well.” Dr Akagi’s voice echoed slightly through the speaker. It had the slightly distracted character her voice usually had whenever she was involved with anything that wasn’t immediately concerned with the Evas. 

“They itch.” Asuka had woken up last night, feeling like ants were crawling all over her. Not her arms or legs below the scars, but everywhere else had prickled and itched. It’d faded when the next dose of morphine kicked in, and she’d slipped back into sleep easily enough. But it wasn’t a sensation she was going to forget.  

“That’s normal. It’s your body healing. The LCL baths should help.” 

“I still don’t know why we couldn’t do this inside Unit-02,” Asuka crossed her arms, leaning back into the LCL tank’s rest. 

“Unit-02 is still being repaired. It took quite a beating in the last fight. We’ve only just begun installation of the new plug interface system,” her blonde haired head swum around on the other side of the glass, distorted by the LCL and the curve of the tank. 

“How much longer do I have to be in here? It’s already been half an hour.” At least they weren’t forcing her to be quiet, like if this was a synch test, but sitting still wasn’t exactly the way Asuka wanted to spend her time. 

“Another half hour should do it for this one. Evas spend most of their time in LCL, but they’re orders of magnitude larger, so tissue penetration takes commensurately longer. An hour ought to provide your new tissue with the healing support it needs.”
“Wait, the Evas? What about the Evas? What have they got to do with this?” 

“The regeneration techniques we used to repair your limbs is based on the ones we use to repair the Evas. The LCL stimulates the healing response in the cells of both the tissue and in your original body. It’s sped up the regenerative rate by a factor of four, at least.” 

Ritsuko was a practiced liar by now, and she knew how close to the truth to skirt to make it all believable. The best lies were always the ones closest to the truth. The human mind saw the parts that were true, and assumed the rest was too.

Nothing she’d said to Asuka was false. But it was as distorted from what was true as the girl’s features were from where Ritsuko stood. It was better she didn’t know how they’d rebuilt her. There were too many questions that would need answering.

Misato hadn’t managed to sleep through the night. She’d snatched a few hours here and there, but she was resolutely awake now, trying desperately to ignore the sunlight creeping across the room. If she accepted that it was morning, that meant she’d have to get up. Getting up would mean dealing with another truly mountainous hangover.

Maybe she could call in sick? No, not today. She was picking Asuka up from NERV today. She dragged herself to her feet. She couldn’t call in sick anyway. The mountain of paperwork from the Mt Asama operation was still piled high on her desk, two weeks later. She probably could’ve gotten through most of it by now, but there’d been a lot on her mind. After a quick check to make sure her pajamas, such as they were, were covering everything they were supposed to, she exited her room.

She could hear Shinji clattering in the kitchen, making food. Thank goodness. She was too hung over to deal with his sulking. Understandable as it was. 

Also, she was definitely too hung over to make her own breakfast.

“Morning, Shinji.” God, even her own voice was too loud. She flopped in front of a plate of rice. Plain rice. “Shinji, did you forget the natto?”

“Uh, no, we’re out.” He looked at her, his face almost worried, as if she was about to attack him over the lack of beans. “We’re running out of a lot of things.”

“I guess it’s been a while since I’ve made it to the shops.” She stared at the plain rice. Everything that had happened, with Asuka, and with Shinji, and NERV, meant she’d just kept putting off the trip. Not that it’d stopped her getting beer, she thought.

Usually Shinji would have reminded her, but he’d been almost as bad as her of late. He was managing to tidy up after himself, and cook food, and that was it. He was really taking it hard. She understood why. Even though he’d saved Asuka, survivor’s guilt was a real trip. Maybe he could’ve saved her faster. Maybe he should’ve been the one in the volcano. Maybe maybe maybe. 

But he shouldn’t. She should. He did everything he could have to protect Asuka. She had only been in danger because of Misato. 

Shinji placed a glass of water beside her plate. 

“I’m going to school now. I’ll see you... after.” His voice was soft, wavering and pausing as if to mention Asuka, but not quite managing it. She nodded at him.

The crash of the door closing behind him was like thunder in her ears, no matter how quietly he’d tried. But she’d done it to herself. 

She ate some of the rice, hoping it might still her churning stomach. It was probably good that they didn’t have anything else, she might not have been able to handle anything with more flavour. 

She’d really messed up.

Not just last night, either. That was a regular-sized Misato mess. That wasn’t even a mess on its own, just a normal response to having messed up for her, honestly. And it was hardly so bad that she couldn’t get through it.

She smelt like a garbage bin, though. Her mouth tasted like one, too, and the rice didn’t taste enough like anything to take away from that.

“I should’ve pulled her out earlier.” she mumbled. That was the mess she couldn’t shake. Would Asuka still have almost died if she had? Would the Angel have woken up?

There were too many questions that would never have answers.

By the time she got under the shower head, the painkillers she’d necked were kicking in. With some of the hangover fog beginning to clear, she found herself planning out her day. If she could get through her paperwork before lunch, she might be able to take a short nap before she had to meet with the Eva work team representatives. She wouldn’t be able to afterwards, there was too much she had to do. 

Ugh. At least she couldn’t be expected to take a long day today. She was getting Asuka at 4. That… That was going to be awkward. How did you apologise for failing someone like that? Could you even try?

She sighed, resting her forehead against the shower wall. The water was warm, comforting, a white noise to drown out the twisting guilt in her gut. But it left her alone with her thoughts, and they were no less discomforting. 

“Is that everything you have?” The nurse’s voice was distracted, but she was clearly trying to be kind and thoughtful. It wasn’t working, and Asuka honestly would have preferred it if the nurse didn’t even try. Of course she had everything. It's not like Asuka had a chance to pack a bag for her extended hospital stay. She only had what Misato and the Idiot had brought her from home. A few books, her computer, some clothes that weren’t hospital-issue, and that was basically it. Barely enough to bother filling her backpack with, and certainly not enough to worry about her forgetting. 

“Of course it is. I’m not stupid enough to lose anything.” She snapped. Her arms crossed themselves almost of their own accord. “Where’s Misato? She’s supposed to be here by now?”

While not quite accurate, as the clock had barely ticked over to the time Misato had mentioned, Asuka had been stuck in this room long enough that she didn’t care. 4pm was when she was leaving, and that meant now. 

As if summoned, or possibly simply because she was on time, Misato burst through the door. Her jacket was crumpled, and beret was askew, like she’d thrown them on in a hurry. Which she probably had. 

“Hey Asuka!” She beamed at the redhead, a smile which faded slightly as she caught sight of her bedraggled self in the room’s mirror. Misato looked roughly as bad as she felt. Which wasn’t as bad as she had, but Misato wouldn’t trust someone looking like that to drive her home.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting forever for you.” Asuka’s eye gleamed in triumph, and she grabbed her backpack from the nurse. “Come on, I wanna leave, and this chair is too heavy for me to wheel myself.”

Misato shot a look at the nurse, who shrugged as if to say ‘She’s your problem now’. 

“Do you have any prescriptions or anything you’re supposed to pick up?” her voice would’ve betrayed her hesitation, if her face hadn’t also given it away. 

“No, I’ve already gotten everything. It’s just a bunch of pills I gotta take.” Asuka waved dismissively at the idea, impatience scrawled across every movement, including the way she flicked a lock of hair out of her face. “Can we go now?”

“If you’re sure.” Misato stepped behind the girl, and grasped the wheelchair handles. “I made sure Shinji’s cooking tonight, so don’t worry about that.“

“This is a lot of food, Third. Are you trying to impress me?” Asuka spoke around a mouth full of meat and rice, pausing just long enough between shoveling to take a breath. She gestured to the array of food carefully arranged on the table. Misato’s apartment probably hadn’t seen this wide an array of food in a while. At least, not food that was edible for anyone other than Misato. Shinji flushed, and stared pointedly away.

“N-no, I just thought you’d um. You’d appreciate some real food. You know, after the hospital food.” He turned back to look at her. “I remember it being pretty bad.”
“You’re not wrong there, Third. It wasn’t so bad at the start, but that was probably the morphine. Things stopped being any good once they started tapering me off.” 

“I um, I didn’t get put on morphine, so I wouldn’t know.” A long silence stretched out between the two teens after Shinji’s words. It didn’t seem to bother Asuka, as she continued to busy herself with dinner, but Shinji was handling it poorly. He picked at his rice, seemingly more to have something to do with his hands than to try and eat. “Not that I should have or didn’t want to or anything I just mean like I didn’t need to because I wasn’t really that… hurt…”

He trailed off as Asuka’s face darkened and her eyes narrowed, locking on his and piercing into his very being. She carefully lowered her chopsticks.

“Surprise!” Misato erupted from the entrance way, where she had been stealthily assembling something, out of sight and sound of the kids. 

“What the hell is it?” Asuka spun around to glare at the older woman. Misato was rolling a wheelchair in front of her, an enormous grin plastered across her face. The chair itself was sleek, certainly more comfortable looking than the bulky NERV branded one she’d been sent home with, and Misato had evidently made sure to match the red seat cushions to Asuka’s aesthetic. 

“It’s your new chair! I figured the NERV one would be a bit dorky for you, and apparently it's not that comfortable, and it’s flimsy.” Misato stepped around the new chair, and tapped the large plastic discs that took up the hubs of the wheels. “But the best thing about this baby is the power assist. You charge her overnight, and she’ll roll anywhere you want all day.”

“Why’d you bother with that? I’m not gonna be using a wheelchair that long.” Asuka screwed up her face. Misato went to place her hand on the girl’s shoulder, but seemed to think better of it, and instead stepped across and sat at her usual place at the table.

“Asuka, I know you want things to get back to normal right away, but we don’t know how long you’ll…” she hesitated, trying to decide how to phrase it. The hesitation proved to be a mistake, and Asuka exploded.

“How long long I’ll be what? A cripple? A useless cripple? Is that what you think of me?” she threw her chopsticks down with enough force to almost knock over Shinji’s glass, sending the boy grasping, desperately trying to avert disaster. The wrong disaster, perhaps, but probably the one of the two he could manage.

“Asuka, I don’t mean-” Mistato began, before Asuka could interrupt her again.

“You don’t mean what, Misato? You don’t think I’m just gonna give up and use a chair forever? So what’s that?” the redhead jabbed her finger at the chair. When Misato didn’t answer immediately, Asuka scowled. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

She pushed herself up to her feet, and half-stomped, half-staggered in the direction of her room. Her pale legs carried her four and a half steps, before giving out, sending her slamming into the wall.
Shinji was first to her side. His hands hovered awkwardly, held out in front of him, almost reaching out towards Asuka, almost shielding himself from her.

“Are- are you okay?” he stammered. His hand stretched slowly, cautiously down towards the girl. Asuka’s arm swung up to bat it back. 

“Don’t touch me!” she spat. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

Shinji flinched back, as much from shock at the volume of her response as from the blow. He stood frozen, staring at her, as she dragged herself to her feet again.

Misato, having finally untangled herself from the table, could only watch Asuka drag herself along the wall to her room. Shinji stared at the closed door for nearly a minute before turning back to Misato, his face covered in equal parts terror and confusion.

She could only look at him with a look of equal confusion. 

The pill bottle was defeating her. It had no right to, and she didn’t want to admit it, but the facts were what they were. Asuka’s hands twisted with the strain, but they just skidded off the plastic groves. She dropped the bottle on her lap. 

“You stupid piece of shit.” She hissed at it. “Stupid childproof cap.”

“Do you need something, Asuka?” Shinji poked his head around the corner. 

“No!” She snapped back at him, her reaction automatic. She took a breath, blowing a strand of red hair out of her face. It fell back down, obscuring her view of the bottle. She held it out to the boy. “...Yes.”

Shinji looked at the bottle, and the pale hand that held it. He reached out towards it, careful and cautious. As if Asuka was about to snatch it right back. It wouldn’t have been unheard of. But no, she let him take the bottle from her just like that.

A spark of recognition flared in him as he turned the bottle in his hands. He’d seen this bottle somewhere else. Where had he seen it before? It can’t have been the same bottle, he knew that, but it was familiar to him. He’d seen a bottle just like it. 

“Third? Could you open it?” Asuka’s irritated voice broke through his thoughts. 

“Oh, right, sorry.” He blushed. The cap came off easily in his hands. Easy enough to make him wonder why Asuka couldn’t do it herself. 

“Stop apologising, it makes you look weak.” Asuka snipped, as she held her hand out to get the bottle back. She tipped out a couple of the red pills into her hand, and knocked them back. They stuck uncomfortably in her throat, the lump slowly dragging itself down to her stomach. She screwed up her face and swallowed repeatedly, forcing the pills down. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Shinji wringing his hands. He was trying to be inconspicuous, but the boy had never encountered an anxiety he didn’t immediately plaster across his entire being. She rolled her eyes. 

“What is it, Third? Shouldn’t you be off doing something?” 

“What? No, um, I’m meeting up with Toji and Kensuke later, but that’s not for a while.” 

“Well, maybe you could figure something out? Something that doesn’t involve hovering around me like a fly?” She reached up, and flicked his ear. He twisted away, grabbing the injured ear. She scowled at his back.

“I like the eye patch. It makes you look like a manga character. Like a mysterious pirate queen.” Hikari was halfway to rambling by this point, her voice full of anxious energy, as if something terrible would happen if she stopped. Given the girl she was walking alongside, that was less unlikely than it could have been.

Asuka rolled forward in silence. She’d been dreading seeing Hikari again, dreaded everything that came with it. But she had also been desperately bored. The basic routine of the last week, the apartment to NERV, to the apartment to NERV to the apartment, it wore at the edges of her psyche. Akagi was still keeping her separate from Unit-02. It was just physical therapy and the LCL tank thing Asuka was still supposed to do. They let her listen to music, at least, but it was so boring. And Misato’s apartment was almost worse. Shinji seemed to spend all his time hovering around, like he wanted to help but couldn’t commit to anything. Misato seemed to spend all her time at NERV, although that wasn’t new. She was avoiding talking about the Mount Asama mission, though. Asuka didn’t care, she just didn’t like how it made Misato evasive.

Hikari was a breath of fresh air, even with the awkward, anxious bounce in her voice. It grated against her pride, but there was something fascinating about it. Even if Hikari wasn’t already her friend, Asuka would probably have come along today anyway. It was like picking at a scab. Did it hurt? Yeah. But it was also something new. She let Hikari ramble awkwardly, sitting in near silence as they travelled the half-hour walk to school. 

When they came through the gates onto the school grounds, Asuka could feel eyes on her. That wasn’t new, of course. She was the queen of the school. Incredible looks, the mystery of her and Idiot Shinji’s connection to NERV. And Ayanami, the voice in the back of her mind supplied, before she could squash it. Miss Blue wasn’t anything like her. Anyway, she was popular, and it was warranted. But she knew the attention today was… less envious than usual. No one was looking at her, wishing they were her, or they could have her. 

The way Hikari’s already hurried rambling speed up suggested she knew that too. Asuka wasn’t going to let it bother her. She straightened her back, flicking her hair over one shoulder, and laughed at something Hikari said. What it was didn’t really matter. She was putting her best foot forward. 

Wheeling through the front doors into the building proper, Asuka realised what she’d said to herself, and cringed.

Chapter Text

“What is the estimated remaining time for repairs on Unit-02?” Gendo Ikari stood behind his desk, facing away from Ritsuko. He was silhouetted against the piped daylight that illuminated the Geofront, a dark shadow looming over his domain. Ritsuko thought perhaps there was something metaphorical there. But that wasn’t why she was here.

“We’ve completed the main installation of the entry plug interface system. We’ll need another thirty eight hours to complete the synchronisation manifold, and to hook it into the Evanglion’s main systems. Assuming no unexpected delays, we could have it ready to sortie within forty three hours.” She stared directly at the back of Gendo’s head as she rattled off the report. The repairs had occupied her mind and her calendar for the last month. She knew the situation inside and out, from the projected rejection ratios on the spinal control implants, to the four hundred and twenty six armour plate anchors currently being installed on the Unit’s left arm. 

“Good.” Gendo’s voice was quiet, almost disinterested. Despite their volume, his words echoed around his office. “And the Second Children?”

Ritsuko swallowed, hoping he didn’t notice.
“She is performing adequately. The transplants have bonded well, and passive scans during the LCL immersions have suggested her synch profile has remained within the margin of error the Magi predicted.” She shifted her weight from her left leg to her right. These heels were wearing out. They’d need to be replaced soon. Maybe she could send Maya to buy some new ones? “The current schedule has the Second perform a Stage Three activation test within the next forty-eight hours.. If all goes according to plan, that will be followed within twelve hours by a full standard activation test with the Second piloting.”

“Hmmm.” Gendo went silent. Ritsuko waited. She had shared all the relevant information. Gendo played his little games, and Ritsuko played along. After an indeterminate silence, in which Ritsuko shifted her weight another two times, Gendo spoke.
“It will do.” 

The apartment was hot. This wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence for Tokyo-3, but Asuka was still used to Berlin’s cooler seasons, and she was struggling. Misato was working, so she couldn’t badger her to get the air conditioning fixed. The doors to the deck were wide, and something that could’ve been described as a breeze was anemically wafting in. Shinji had turned the TV to something she wasn’t paying attention to, and she was splayed out like a starfish on the couch. If she didn’t move, she wouldn't sweat. Much. 

“Hey, can you get me a soda while you’re up?” she asked, as Shinji shifted to his feet.
“Uh, sure.” Stupid Shinji was acting distracted, but she could usually trust him to get her a drink. Especially if he was heading into the kitchen himself. She closed her eyes, and tried to will the heat to fade. 

She listened to his footsteps, the soft sounds of a pair of bare, sweaty feet on the linoleum, almost sticky sounds. 

The sucking sound of the fridge opening, the clinking of bottles and jars inside.The dull thump of Shinji closing it. His footsteps padded back across the linoleum. They grew louder, until they were almost right beside Asuka. When they stopped, she held out a hand, keeping her eyes shut. It was too hot to be expected to look at things. Shinji wasn’t stupid enough to not know what an outstretched hand meant. Probably. 

Shinji did not hand her a drink. She waved her hand around, and called out his name. 

“Shinji. Shinji, drink.” As no drink continued to arrive in her hand, she opened her eyes. 

The idiot was standing there, cans of soda in his hands, staring into space. 

“What the hell are you doing, Shinji? Gimme my soda!” She leaned forwards, and grabbed at the can. Her hand slipped, her hands not quite gripping strong enough to overcome the slick of the condensation lining the ice-cold aluminium. It went flying, slamming into the wall, and clattering down over the shelves and onto the floor. 

“Shit.” Asuka stares at the can as it rolls slowly to a stop against the sliding door’s bottom rail. “Can you get that?”

Shinji shook himself slightly, like he was trying to shake away a cloud from his head. 

“Uh, yeah. Sorry.” He put down the other can, and bent down to pick up the slightly battered drink. He stared at the slight denting, and then at the other can, dripping water onto one of Misato’s car magazines. “Here, this one’s not as shaken up.”

Asuka rolls her eyes, but accepts the other can. Her hands were feeling fuzzier than usual today, and it took a moment for her to process the cold seeping into her hands. She levered a finger under the tab, and awkwardly popped it up and open. Her fine motor control was pretty terrible, though it had already improved a lot over what it had been. Bad days happened, though, and it looked like today was one. She glanced over at Shinji gingerly trying to open the shaken can without it exploding all over him.

“What were you doing, anyway? Just staring at me?” Shinji’s face immediately went pink, and he began stammering out some kind of excuse. “I knew it! Disgusting! You were perving at me!”

“No, I wasn’t,” Shinji started saying, but Asuka steamrolled right over him, her fury at his perceived lechery relentless. She barely heard his stammering protests, pulling out a flurry of well worn complaints she had. Shinji took the barrage, slowly building up colour in his face.

“It’s not like that!” His outburst interrupted her flow mid-sentence, giving him time enough to take a breath, and pull his thoughts into a coherent sentence. “I just figured out where I saw the pills you’re taking, okay? They’re the same ones Ayanami takes.”

“Psh. As if. You’d do anything to avoid consequences.” Asuka slumped back onto the couch. Shinji eyed her for a moment, before slinking off to his room in silence. 

The redhead crossed her arms, and sat in silence, letting the white noise of the TV wash over her, and tried not to think about anything.

It was a beautiful afternoon and Asuka was confused. Normally, she would have enjoyed any excuse to sit out from the imposed drudgery of swimming lengths. Any reason to avoid having the leches in the boy’s group leering at her in her swimwear. But somehow, sitting in her chair, by the side of the pool, in her uniform, alone… It sucked. 

There was some relief in not having to do it, definitely, but it was overwhelmed by everything else. She knew part of it was that she hated having to “take it easy” because of her injuries. Asuka would absolutely rather have been out there in the pool, proving Akagi wrong. She couldn’t, though. The blonde was right. She might not drown in the pool, like the teacher obviously thought, but she couldn’t swim like she used to. Anything short of floating for more than five minutes was beyond her. An image thrust itself into her mind, of having to be helped out of the pool after her limbs gave out, no strength, no energy left, and she shuddered. Death might have been preferable. Absent-mindedly, she scratched at the thin thread of scar tissue around her right bicep. The line between the old skin, healthily coloured and spattered with freckles, and the new, soft and unblemished, but so, so pale. The webs of scars across her torso and legs itched faintly in sympathy, and a knot of something uncomfortable and undefinable twisted itself deep in her stomach. She’d already felt the stares everywhere she went, people wondering what happened to her, whispering about why she looked like that, how she ended up in the chair. Would it be worse if they saw the twisting knots of the scars? No, she decided. It wouldn’t. Those were her scars, her proof that she survived killing an angel. They could judge her if they wanted, but she was proud of them. She squared her shoulders, and repeated her declaration to herself. The knot in her stomach ignored her, and continued to twist.

She watched Kasumi, a tall girl who usually wore her hair in a french braid, dive, mentally critiquing her form. It wasn’t great. Kasumi had stepped out onto the water, like she’d been trying to walk across it. Or doing the Giant Stride Entry, Asuka suddenly thought, her mind flashing back to Mt Asama.

Nope, no, not going there, fuck. Nope. Asuka dragged her attention away from the pool, breathing deeply. She focused on calming the knot, ignoring the way her pulse seemed to thump louder and louder. Her eyes landed on a small figure almost directly across from her. Blue hair and those strange, empty red eyes. 

Ayanami sat leaning against the chain link fence, pale arms wrapped around pale knees. She was bone dry, having been sat in that exact place since the period began. Auska could feel the knot twist sharply, almost angrily. Ayanami. God, did she ever do anything? Or did she just sit there until she was told? Honestly. What was even the point of getting changed if you weren’t going to swim? 

Asuka folded her arms and blew a strand of hair out of her face. Ugh, at least class was about to finish. 

Asuka waved a half-hearted goodbye to Hikari and the other girls, having had to brush off an invitation to hang out at the mall. Having to go do stupid NERV shit wasn’t the ideal way to spend an afternoon, but she definitely preferred it to the alternative. There was something exhausting about being around her friends like that. It wasn’t effortless, not like it used to be. 

Everything was exhausting, of course, but some things didn’t used to be, and Asuka wasn’t used to the change. It wasn’t something she could figure out. She just kept hitting these random walls of exhaustion when she tried to do things. It was so aggravating, but even being angry about it was exhausting to her. 

She stared at her phone for a moment. Misato and Dr Akagi had both told her to call if she needed a ride to NERV, and they’d send a car. But they’d also told her to do that if she was “too tired” to get there on her own, and she just. Couldn’t. Not after having to sit in her fucking chair instead of swimming with her class. It wasn’t like there was anything difficult or urgent about getting there.

Asuka sighed, and slipped the phone into her bag, and began to wheel her way to the train station. 

The compartment was empty, like it usually was, between the high school and NERV. It was between shifts, and hardly anyone lived out that direction. It’d probably be packed later on, or earlier in the day, but never now. That was one more place Asuka hated having the chair in. She didn’t mind how it blocked out that much more space around her, but it made her so conscious of exactly how much extra room she was taking up. And it put her head at the height of everyone’s crotches, and that was hellish in itself. 

She waggled the wheels of the chair across the narrow gap into the compartment, and maneuvered herself into place against the compartment wall. After securing the brakes, she looked up and saw a familiar blue-haired figure across from her. 

Ayanami didn’t seem to have noticed Asuka, with all her attention locked on a small space on the floor in front of her, like she might be able to bore through the rubber and steel with the sheer force of her focus. Asuka wasn’t inclined to change that. And it wasn’t like the First was much of a conversationalist. Ignoring her would probably be exactly as entertaining as trying to talk to her, and significantly less aggravating. 

As the train rattled along, Asuka found herself staring at the other pilot. There was something about her immobility, how still she sat, that just. Angered her. She really didn’t do anything unless she was told, did she. She just sat there, like a puppet with its strings cut. 

The train slowed as it came into the NERV Eastern Access Station, before jerking to a stop. Ayanami got to her feet before Asuka could move, and her eyes locked with Asuka’s. Red met blue, and blue met red. A faint, quiet note of recognition flickered in Ayanami’s eyes, but she looked away quickly, making no move to acknowledge Asuka as she exited the compartment. 

Asuka felt her eyes go wide, and she had to stop herself rising to her feet. Her balance had been off all day, and she didn’t need to run after the girl only to fall on her face. But she pushed herself forward in her chair with a fury that would’ve moved mountains. By the time she left the compartment, Ayanami had already swiped through the security gate into the Geofront. Asuka swore, and wheeled herself over to the freight entrance. The waist-high gates weren’t wide enough to get through. It wasn’t even like it was hard, it was literally impossible. Her chair was a good five or so centimeters wider than the gap, and she couldn’t lift the chair over the gate on her own. She swore at Ayanami as she reached up to swipe her ID card at the freight door. She couldn’t have waited for Asuka, could she. She couldn’t have helped her with her chair, could she. The door unlocked with a click, and she reversed into it, pushing open the door with her back, and swiveling across the threshold. Ayanami was nowhere to be seen. Typical. She’d just gone off to do whatever it was she was told to do, no acknowledgement of Asuka or anything. Typical of her, really, she muttered to herself, as she wheeled over to the elevators. She slammed the call button, and slouched back, her arms crossed, tight against her stomach. The elevator felt like it took forever to arrive, though it might just have been her. Things always took longer when you were angry. But she wasn’t angry, she assured herself. She was just aggravated by Ayanami’s rudeness. Which was reasonable! Anyone would be. 

When the elevator arrived, finally, she backed into it, jammed her thumb into the floor buttons, and jammed on her brakes. Her fingers tapped against her arm as she waited for the doors to slide closed, as she stared out into the empty entranceway. Just as the door began to close, she heard the slapping sound of rushed footsteps, and a hand leapt out to hold the door open. A pale, slightly rumpled figure followed closely behind it.

“Thank you for waiting.” Ayanami said, her voice faint and her cheeks flushed as she stepped into the elevator. 

“I wasn’t waiting for you.” Asuka deliberately did not look at the other girl, folding her arms even tighter against her. The elevator doors closed with a hiss, locking the two girls inside as it descended.

Asuka found herself glancing at Ayanami from time to time, noting how still the other girl stood. How long had it been, and she’d barely moved. Not even shifting her weight around. Just... Still. It was so weird. Asuka decided, then and there, that she was going to give her a piece of her mind. She took a breath, and Ayanami spoke.

“Did you want to say something, Pilot Soryu?” Her voice was quiet and flat, and it threw Asuka off. Her thoughts disappeared, and her mind went completely blank. She grasped desperately at the vague concepts she had been intending to bring to bear, only to lose them all like fog in her mind. 

“No, no I’m fine.” She stammered out. She wasn’t fine, and no one would have believed it. It was written plainly across her face that something was up.

“Oh. I am sorry. You have been looking at me, and I thought I heard you begin to speak.” Asuka blinked. It was hard to say for sure, but it seemed like the doll was genuine? She… What? “I apologise for bothering you.”

The elevator was silent for a while, until a thought slid into Asuka’s mind, and she blurted it straight out. 

“Shinji said you’re taking the same medication as me.” She immediately wanted to slam her head into the wall. Why did she say that! That wasn’t important!  

“I am on a number of medications.” Ayanami’s voice was steady, flat, and it took a moment for Asuka to recognise the question in those words. 

“They’re um. Red and white capsules. The jar doesn’t say what they are, and Dr Akagi just said not to worry about it when I asked.” 

“Ah. Yes, I am taking that medication.” Asuka waited for Ayanami to elaborate. She didn’t. 

“Do you know what it does?” 

“Yes.”

“Will you tell me?” Asuka could feel her irritation returning in full force. Why was Ayanami so evasive? Why couldn’t she answer a simple question? 

“They are designed to prevent cellular decay and organ rejection. It is likely that they have contributed to your rapid recovery.” 

The elevator halted, and Ayanami stepped out the opening doors before Asuka could respond. Asuka wheeled herself forwards, trying to follow the girl and maybe get her to explain properly, but she had already disappeared into the bowels of NERV.

“Power connections are stable.” The technician’s voice was clear in the control room, ringing out amidst the sounds of working bodies and whirring computers. “Beginning activation system now.” 

Ritsuko found herself holding her breath. Synchronisation tests were seldom exciting, but she had never repaired an Evangelion that had taken the kind of damage Unit-02 had. Theoretically, you could replace any part of the Evangelion, and it should function, but things were hardly ever settled science when it came to Evangelions. The replacement synchronisation manifold had been built with as many spare parts from the Berlin branch as had been possible, just in case that made a difference. A dark thought loomed out from her memory, a reminder of a particularly unpleasant synchronisation test. Ayanami had survived, of course, and Unit-Zero had spent barely a month non-functional. But no matter the ultimate outcome, it was an outcome she genuinely wanted to avoid. 

“Operational power is reaching the critical point in three. Two.” Ibuki said, her eyes locked on the computer readout. It threw orange light onto the young woman’s face, flickering in a way that was somehow not entirely unlike the flicker of firelight. “And one. Power is over critical point.” 

She turned towards Ritsuko, and flashed her a nervous smile. Ritsuko nodded back, and looked out the windows into the enormous testing space. Unit-02 loomed across from her, a colossal red shape that was simultaneously threat and achievement.

“Good. Let’s proceed to stage two of the activation system.” Ritsuko pursed her lips. This would be the first time Asuka and Unit-02 had been connected since she’d been pulled, burnt and broken, from the entry plug at Mt Asama. The likelihood that it would be… Problematic was low, but Ritsuko couldn’t shake the worry. She shook the memories from her mind.

“Commencing pilot connection.”

“System, phase two start.” The test slowly, steadily, continued. The thousands of steps being checked off, each inching closer to the goal. 

“What’s the LCL pressure like?” Ritsuko asked, her eyes not leaving Unit-02.

“LCL pressure is at normal levels, doctor. Maintaining at 3% margin of error.” A technician responded quickly.

“Good. Keep it there.” Ritsuko breathed deep, keeping the knot of worry in her stomach calm and under control.

“Synapses have been inserted. Beginning connection now.”
“Transmitting pulse.”

“No problems with initial contact.” Ritsuko nodded in response to Ibuki, watching as Unit-02 began to light up. The woman continued; “List is clear up to check 2250.”

“Power transmitted to brachial muscles. Opening transmission to leg musculature.” 

“No problems with nerve connections.” 

“List is clear to 2280.”

“Good. Let’s move to third stage connection.” Ritsuko leaned against the console beside her, and thumbed on the comms to the entry plug. “We’re moving to the third stage connection now. How’re you doing, Asuka?”

The small image of the teen made it difficult to discern her exact emotions, but her impatience was clear.

“I’m doing fine. I’m just waiting for you all to get moving.” Ritsuko could feel the edge in Asuka’s voice, but it slid right off her. Asuka would have to do a lot worse if she wanted to get underneath her skin.

“Good. We’re just taking it slow so we can be careful. This is the first activation you two have had since the rebuild, and we want to do it right.”

“Pulse and harmonics are normal.” 

“Time to absolute borderline is 0.4… 0.2… 0.1…” Ibuki counted down. “Borderline cleared. Unit-02 is active.”

“Asuka, how’s it feel in there?” Ritsuko felt a slight weight slip from her shoulders, as the knot in her gut loosened slightly.

“It feels good. Unit-02 feels good. Like we’re ready to go right now.” Asuka sounded enthusiastic, as if she’d never taken a hit in Mt Asama. Ritsuko pursed her lips. It was a good sign, but something about it bothered her. 

“Alright, that’s excellent work. You can come out now. We’ll debrief you and you can go home.” 

“Aww, really? We’re not going to do anything else? I’m already here, we could do walking tests. Unit-02 is all prepped and everything. I haven’t gotten to pilot her in forever!” Asuka’s face was a picture of dismay, and Ritsuko’s heart snagged on something deep inside her. Without breaking her train of thought, she mentally unhitched herself, and shoved whatever it was down. 

“Be that as it may, we’re calling the test here. We’ll do a full activation tomorrow. Today we want to check through everything, and make sure it was all as successful as it seems like it was.” Ritsuko’s voice was firm, and she saw Asuka begin to protest, only to evidently think better of it. “Maya, have the test records brought to my office. We’ll work through them before we head home tonight.”

Asuka stared at the ceiling. She put her hand over her good eye, and then over the other, and then back again, comparing the differences. 

They weren’t particularly noticeable in the dark of the room. Her left eye, the bad eye, took a bit longer to focus on things, but not that much. And in the dark, it didn’t hurt to use. Dr Akagi had told her to try and use it as much as she could, but also to keep the patch on if she was in bright lights. Which was pretty stupid. How was she supposed to use it if she could only use it in the dark? When she could barely see anything anyway? Ridiculous. 

At least she didn’t have to wear the stupid patch during the test with Unit-02. It let her show off another battle scar, an eye that matched Unit-02. She was proud of it. She shoved down the feeling of disgust at the idea of people seeing it. No one at NERV was unfamiliar with what happened to her. They understood the sacrifice she’d made, and she knew they were in awe of what she’d done. Even if they didn’t show it. There wasn’t any need to keep it hidden. 

They understood, she told herself. 

A sound from outside caught her attention. It wasn’t Misato, not from the sound of it. That woman clomped around at home like a drunk, worse when she was one. It sounded like Shinji. He’d been locked up in his room since before she’d gotten home. Probably listening to his music, pretending that he didn’t have any responsibilities. She rolled her eyes at that. He really didn’t get it.

He’d been on call with NERV more than usual, what with Unit-02 out of action, although for him it was probably back to how it’d been before Asuka had arrived to save him and Ayanami from themselves and to show them how to actually pilot an Eva. She smiled to herself. Starting tomorrow, we were going back to how it was supposed to be, with her on top.

Her smile faltered a bit. Surely they would be, though. They’d go back to how they were meant to be, how they’d been. Unit-02 had responded like it was supposed to today, and she could absolutely have aced any movement or piloting tests Akagi would have thrown at her, if she hadn’t called the test as stupidly early as she had. “Just being careful”, the doctor had said during the debrief. Careful. More like slow. She would’ve been fine, Asuka knew it. Unit-02 had always worked well with Asuka. There wasn’t any way they’d have had trouble. It wasn’t like she was useless like Shinji or Ayanami were.

What had Ayanami been doing at NERV, anyway? She’d disappeared into the Geofront, completely. Asuka hadn’t seen her in the pilot’s spaces, or the testing areas, or anywhere else. The last time she’d seen the girl was when she stepped off the elevator. Where had she gone? What was she doing?

God, she was so weird. 

“Alright Asuka, we’re looking great. Synch is high, harmonics are good. Let’s have you try taking some steps.” Dr Akagi’s voice came through clear in the entry pod, echoing slightly through the LCL. Asuka snorted at that. Of course everything was looking good. She was back where she belonged, at the controls of her Unit-02. All’s right in the world. 

She extended her will out to Unit-02, and took a step forward. The enormous red being she sat inside followed, and they strode forwards together.

“How’s Unit-02 feeling now?” Dr Akagi asked. “Everything seems to be looking good here.”

“Pfft. She’s doing everything right. Just like I knew she would.” Asuka replied, her voice clear and high, as her body and the body of Unit-02 thrummed in resonance. 

“That’s excellent news. We’re going to move onto some manipulation trials. Move over to the storage rack across from you, and we’ll test out your fine motor skills.”

Asuka rolled her eyes, but followed the instructions. The testing space was enormous by human standards, but by Evangelion standards it was barely more than a room.

“Let’s have you start with a pallet rifle. You remember how to field strip one, I presume.” 

“Obviously.” Asuka replied, as she reached for the enormous rifle. “I never understood why these are field strippable anyway. I get being able to reload them, that makes sense, but stripping them seems over the top.”

“When we were designing the Evangelion’s armaments, we didn’t have much idea of what Evangelion capabilities would be like, or what Angel combat might resemble. The design team drafted a number of options, and we settled on our favourite.” Dr Akagi’s voice had more energy all of a sudden, as if remembering a better, less exhausting, time. “Obviously, with the energy limitations of Evangelions, extended field service isn’t much of a factor, and being capable of a level of user-servicing is unnecessary. But the design is already in production, and we’ve never had the resources for a redevelopment project.”

Asuka barely paid any attention to Akagi’s words, focusing instead on performing the task in front of her. Her hands felt fuzzy when she concentrated on them like this, but Unit-02 followed after her as if nothing had ever happened. 

“Finished.” She declared, placing the final components, the enormous steel rail block and the carbon and steel composite shroud, on the vast table-like structure in front of her.
“That’s excellent work. Seventy two seconds.” Asuka grimaced. She’d been much, much faster before. Seventy two seconds was practically glacial. 

“I’m going to try that again.” She declared, beginning the reassembly of the gun. 

“If you want. We’ve got more tests to do, but we can get those readings from this if needs be.” Akagi’s voice had returned to its usual semi-distracted tone. 

Asuka went through the procedure another three times, each time shaving seconds from her time, and each time growing more and more displeased with the result. 

She finished the disassembly, and immediately went to rebuild it, only for Dr Akagi to stop her.

“Alright Asuka, that’ll do.”

“What? I can get faster. I’m not this slow!” Asuka’s voice was unsteady, wobbling at the edges in anger.

“I’m sure you can. But we’ve gotten all we can from this test, and we’re going to move on. Please take Unit-02 over to the cages.”

“Uuugh. Fine.” Asuka pouted, and turned Unit-02 away from the disassembled pallet rifles.

The restraints locked over Unit-02’s shoulders, holding them in place. Asuka’s heart raced. She controlled her breathing, focusing on keeping herself oxygenated, but she couldn’t ignore the excitement. Being back in Uni-02 was incredible, but there was something else about being inside, preparing for launch.

“We’re launching you to the north of Tokyo-3, just to the outskirts, where you should have plenty of space.” Maya’s voice was warmer and friendlier than Dr Akagi’s had been, which was pretty much exactly as it always had been. 

“God, it’s going to be good to let loose!” Asuka said, grinning wildly.

“I’ll bet.” Maya replied, smiling into the camera at Asuka. “You’ll still have to stick close to the umbilical power sources, but within that range, you can go pretty wild.”

Asuka closed her eyes, and focused on Unit-02. Her hands and feet began to feel a little fuzzy, but she was beginning to get used to that. It was disconcerting at first, a little like having her foot go to sleep, but she could pretty easily sort of shove that awareness aside by focusing more on the awareness of Unit-02. 

“Prepared for launch.” Maya called. “When you’re ready, Asuka.”

“Eva Unit-02, launch!” Asuka said. The sudden pressure pressed her down into her seat, the seventy- five gs of acceleration managing to push through the cushioning effects of the LCL, pinning her. The LCL pressure increased noticeably for a moment, keeping her in place as the deceleration hit, bringing the enormous mass of Unit-02 to a halt.

The day was bright and clear, and Asuka’s synchronisation was high enough that she could feel the light breeze dancing along the less armoured sections of Unit-02’s limbs. 

“Launch is complete, everything is green. I’ll release the restraints now.” Maya’s voice was accompanied by the heavy thunks of the restraints. Asuka felt Unit-02 sway slightly as it stood under its own strength again.

“Alright Asuka, I’m loading your course and objectives-” Maya’s voice cut out, and her face disappeared, replaced by a black square that read simply “Signal Lost.”

Asuka barely noticed, of course. Her attention was occupied by the sudden appearance of an enormous red counter, ticking down the remaining one hundred and seventeen seconds of Unit-02’s battery.

Chapter Text

Ritsuko had never particularly noticed exactly how many sounds filled the background of Central Dogma, not until they disappeared. Even with the scurried sounds of the various technicians, and the soft piping and humming sounds of the Magi, there was an oppressive weight of silence in the darkness. She leaned over the back of Maya’s chair, her attention on the set of displays in front of them both. One screen had power, displaying a diagram of power networks. The networks themselves read ‘disconnected’.

The screen flickered, and the array of displays sprung to life. Maya quickly disabled all but a few, leaving less than enough to provide light to the chamber. She paused a moment to fan herself with a folder, careful not to blow out the candles that currently dotted the displays.

“Circuits number 2567 have been rerouted, sir.” Lieutenant Aoba’s voice echoed around the space. “Life support systems are at less than a quarter of minimum.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Ritsuko stepped back from Maya, and strode over to her superiors.

“We should not assume that this was a coincidence, nor an accident.” Gendo’s voice was quiet and measured.

“I’d agree.” She replied. There was something distinctly suspect about the situation.

“I concur. This Geo-Front was intended to be a self-sufficient colony, able to function at full capacity entirely separate from the outside world.” Fuyutsuki’s tone had a slight air of the professor he’d once been. “Theoretically, it should be impossible for all three power sources to fail simultaneously.”

“So it was done deliberately.”

“It is likely that the intent was to investigate this facility.” Gendo said, deliberate in his word choice.

“By watching the restoration process?” It made sense to her. There were enormous amounts of information you could gather by watching the order they turned the lights back on. Structural data, operational hierarchies, even some semblance of a floorplan. “I’ll run a dummy program through the Magi, disguise the restoration. It should make it more difficult for them to get a full picture. Whoever ‘they’ might be.”

“I’ll leave that in your hands.”

“Disrespectful bastards.” Fuyutsuki harrumphed. Ritsuko nodded in agreement; whether to the Sub-Commander or the Commander’s words she wasn’t entirely sure.

As she turned to return to the Magi, she heard the two of them continue the conversation.

“Unfortunate that the first breach of this installation is at the hands of man. An angel might have been disastrous, but at least expected.” The Sub-Commander was typically philosophical. “I suppose it just goes to show.”

“Truly, the enemy of mankind is mankind.”

The bright Tokyo-3 afternoon was warm, the air still and the sun gleaming off of Asuka’s plugsuit. The grass smelt fresh and alive, and it felt soft against her feet and legs. She leaned back against the emergency ladder that descended from Unit-02’s entry plug and stared up at the sky.

They still didn’t know what was wrong. Communications with Central Dogma had been cut alongside the power, leaving Asuka and the handful of technicians on the surface completely isolated from the wider NERV. She’d had the presence of mind to shunt Unit-02 into standby mode before she wasted too much of her suddenly limited power, but there was a deep feeling of anxiety in the group that scurried around the Evangelion’s enormous red feet. A feeling that pooled in her gut, fuelled by the awareness that she really couldn’t do anything to help, beyond sitting exactly where she was.

The technicians were working on getting some kind of communications working through the physical lines that webbed through the entirety of the city, but the layers of security and redundancies that NERV was built over and around were proving a hindrance. And, obviously, they weren’t exactly racing to keep Asuka up to date with everything. Which was fine! Obviously. She was a pilot, and it wasn’t like she needed to know all the technical issues of the infrastructure. And they weren’t ignoring her, they just had important things that needed doing.

Obviously.

Shinji felt like shit. He’d tried to talk to his father about the teacher conference, which was hard enough to begin with. Talking to his father was awful in the best of situations, and this was not that. His father had just yelled down the phone line not to bother him, and then hung up. His frustration was just circling around inside his head, swirling around and building up momentum. Walking to NERV alone was always an opportunity for his worse feelings to surge up out of his unconscious. Maybe if he’d been walking with someone else, he’d have been able to talk it out. Get it all out of his head.

He chuckled to himself at that. No way. Kensuke and Toji tried, but they really didn’t get it. Being a pilot was basically incomprehensible to them. Kensuke was insane about the Evangelions, convinced that being a pilot was the best thing anyone could ever experience. He couldn’t conceive of a world where it might be anything short of perfect. Toji was a bit more circumspect, at least. He seemed to get that Shinji didn’t like it. But he definitely seemed to think Shinji should just. Get over it.

Ayanami wouldn’t understand either. She was usually empathic, which Shinji appreciated. But he remembered the one time he’d complained about Father to her. He felt his cheek absently, remembering that moment. That was not an afternoon he liked to remember.

And Asuka, well. Asuka would bite his head off if he complained about anything. It’s like she didn’t understand that things with the Evas weren’t as easy for him as they were for her. And she’d gotten so much more snippy since the accident.

The accident. A knife blade of guilt twisted in his gut. His problems with piloting were nothing, compared.     All he was doing was complaining, really.

He paused in front of the roller doors of the entrance station, and swiped his ID card at the reader. He wasn’t looking forward to sitting around for tests at NERV all evening, but it’s not like he had anything better to do. He waited for the door to open, and let him through.

It didn’t. He swiped again. The reader didn’t even beep, and he realised that its indicator light wasn’t glowing red. He looked up around the entrance station, half hoping to see a sign saying “out of order” or something. It dawned on him all at once that nothing in the station seemed to be on. The overhead lights weren’t on, and he’d only not noticed thanks to the stark light of the Tokyo-3 afternoon.

“Oh no.”

“We still don’t have contact with Eva Unit-02, or the technical team on the surface.” Maya reported. “We’ve got a few ideas, but they’re going to take some time.”

“Do it. I’ve got the Magi under control for now, and we absolutely need to talk with them.” Ritsuko didn’t even look up from the mess of cables and computer-inputs arrayed around her. “You’ve got full permission for anything up to a power reduction of more than point two percent. The Magi can handle any change lower than that with how they’re sitting.”

If she hadn’t been running several sets of shifting inputs, the power reduction could have been up to point three-one percent, which would doubtlessly have increased Maya’s ability to improvise a solution. But at that point, Ritsuko might as well have just hit the reset button when the power first dropped out, posted NERV HQ’s blueprints online, and taken a nap for the last twenty minutes. There were always sacrifices to be made, after all. A thought occurred to her.

“Aoba, go with Maya. We’re almost finished with this, I can handle it.” The lieutenant nodded, before carefully extracting himself from the equipment. Without his extra pair of hands, her current task would probably take twice as long, but the next three wouldn’t be hastened by any assistance, and he was significantly more familiar with the guts of communications systems than Maya. It was a sensible trade.

Ayanami’s arrival left Shinji feeling like the exact idiot Asuka insisted he was. He’d been sitting there in the shadows of the entrance building, staring into space, when she appeared. It didn’t take long for the two of them to check the emergency phone lines, which he hadn’t even thought to try. They were dead, so, arguably, it wouldn’t have helped to check them himself. The real blow to his ego was her extracting her emergency manual. The one Shinji hadn’t even remembered to bring with him.

He resolved to take it with him wherever he went as Ayanami led the two of them deep into the bowels of the complex. She didn’t say much, just the occasional ‘left here’ and the like, even more calm than she usually seemed. Not about the situation seemed to phase her.

A faint sound caught at the edge of his hearing, pulling his attention away from the steady left-right-left of his feet on the dusty concrete.

“Ayanami, do you hear that?” He paused, lapsing into silence as he strained to work out whatever it was. Ayanami went still in front of him, her head cocked to the side as she followed suit.

“A voice. I am unsure what it is saying, however.” She said, her voice quiet but deliberate. “It seems to be growing closer. We should wait for it to get closer.”

He nodded in agreement, before realising she couldn’t see him, both thanks to the dark of the corridor, and because she wasn’t facing him. But she seemed to take his assent for granted, neither turning to check with him, nor moving on herself, and they stood in the cool stillness as the faint maybe-not-even-a-whisper resolved slowly into something definite, and then into something recognisable.

“Lieutenant Hyuga!” Shinji yelled. Ayanami’s hand on his arm stopped him yelling further.

“Shhhh. I want to hear what he is saying.” The voice echoed through the tunnel, echoing over itself as it crept closer and grew louder. It almost immediately began to fade, but not before the two pilots were able to decipher the message.

“An angel?” Shinji felt his anxiety, already high with the power out, spike. Heart beating in his ears, he turned, his eyes meeting Ayanami’s.

“We should hurry.” Her red eyes almost seemed to glow in the darkness. She didn’t seem affected, her face blank like they’d just been informed of another sync test.

“Pilot Soryu! We’ve got a radio communication from Central Dogma.” The orange-clad figure of the technician held out a grey lump of plastic, straining to not overbalance into the entry plug. Asuka leaned over to grab it, careful to counterbalance herself in the pilot chair.

“This is Asuka. What’s going on?” Asuka released the transmit button and immediately began searching the clunky rectangle. She knew this thing had a cable that could plug into Unit 02’s systems.

“Asuka, thank goodness! We’ve had a complete power cut throughout the geofront.” Maya’s voice was faint, and crackled through a blanket of interference. “We’re working on getting everything back online, but its slow. What’s your status?”

“We’re fine, but we won’t be soon. A JSDF plane’s been making flybys for the last twenty minutes, making sure we know there’s an angel coming.” She found the cable at last, and shoved it probably too aggressively into the chair interface. “I’ve set Unit 02 to standby mode, and some of the technicians are standing by as spotters. We figure we can launch in less than a minute from here.”

Maya didn’t reply for long enough that Asuka began to wonder if maybe she’d broken something. When the audio crackled back to life, it wasn’t the bridge crewmate’s friendly voice.

“Soryu, this is Fuyutsuki. You have permission to engage the Angel as you see fit. We are working to ready Units 00 and 01, but without pilots we cannot guarantee timely backup.” The Sub-Commander sounded exhausted, but his usual professional patter came through clear. “I would recommend caution. You have limited resources and battery, and we have zero intelligence on the Angel’s threat and capabilities. However, you are the only NERV personnel on the ground currently. You will have to use your own initative.”

“Roger that.”

“We will update you if the other pilots appear. Fuyutsuki out.”

Asuka slumped in her seat, running her hands through her hair. It was finally long enough that she actually needed to hold it back with her A10 clips, but it was still conspicuously shorter than it’d been.

This was perfect. No one to get in her way, no one to ruin her triumph. She’d able to show everyone exactly how good she was.

And then she’d be back on top.

Even in the midst of the power cut, the corridors of NERV-HQ were somehow busier than Shinji had ever seen them, filled with NERV technicians with arm and handcarts stacked with equipment. Even with their fluorescent orange jumpsuits, they were only barely visible in the shadowy halls. He and Ayanami were given right of way and quickly found themselves shepherded to the candle-lit cavern that was Central Dogma, and to Sub-Commander Fuyutsuki.

“Come along. Your father is preparing the Evangelions as we speak.” He beckoned to the two to follow him.

“My father- But there’s no power?” Shinji took several seconds to process Fuyutsuki’s words, and had to rush to catch up.

“Mmmm, quite so. But there is a great deal one can do by hand, if you set your mind to it.” The taller man’s steps were unhurried but purposeful, and Shinji found himself having to force himself to walk fast enough to keep up. Ayanami, typically, seemed to manage to match Fuyutsuki’s pace effortlessly. “The Evas will not be ready yet. The manual process takes a good deal longer than I’d prefer, but it is the only option we have.”

“How long do you think, sir? Where’s Misato?” Shinji hadn’t seen his guardian yet. Speaking of missing, “Where’s Asuka? Is she at the Eva cages already?”

He noticed Fuyutsuki’s pace slow momentarily, and his lips purse in the shadows.

“Captain Katsuragi’s location is unknown. She was in the Geofront before the power went out, and we have not managed to reestablish contact with her yet. She is not the only NERV personnel to be out of contact, however. And we frankly have more pressing concerns.” They reached the doors to the pilot locker rooms. Fuyutsuki pulled a pair of glowsticks out of a pocket, and handed Shinji and Ayanami one each. “Pilot Soryu was engaged in a field test in Unit-02, and she and her team are currently on the surface. They are aware of the Angel.”

Ayanami took the glowstick, and disappeared into the girl’s locker room. Shinji hesitated, a lack of movement which didn’t escape Fuyutsuki’s notice.

“Shinji, while the Evangelions are not ready for you currently, that does not mean you have time to dawdle. Pilot Soryu is well trained, but the best chance of success remains with the three of you working in concert.” He hesitated perhaps a half second, before placing his hand on Shinji’s shoulder. “Your father is working hard to ready the Evangelions. You should endeavour to meet him halfway. You both have difficult duties.”

Shinji felt his throat begin to close up, and his cheeks redden.

“Thank you, sir.” He nodded a half-bow to the Sub-Commander, and managed to force himself to walk at a regular pace into the locker room.  

The arrival of the two pilots had proven to be only a limited balm to Ritsuko’s ever-frayed nerves. It was true that the Evangelions were little more than the world’s most over-budget paperweights without the children, and thus their appearance was decidedly good news.

But. NERV HQ was still mid-blackout, the Angel was still above, a complete unknown to all involved. The extended battery packs would extend the operation time for Unit-Zero and Unit-01 out to around 20 minutes, but most of that time would still be spent extracting themselves from inside the Geofront. Asuka was already on the surface in Unit-02, but she was alone, and didn’t have access to the battery packs. Nor could they get one to her, leaving her stuck with maybe 2 minutes of combat time. If she was lucky.

And Ritsuko couldn’t do anything about that. There was no technical advice she could provide. No Magi analysis to run. Hell, not even technical readouts to monitor. All she could do was keep poking her code into the Magi, and keeping whoever the saboteur was from finding out exactly where they were keeping everything important. Knowing it was necessary work didn’t help. It still felt like rearranging deckchairs as the Titanic sinks. A rare feeling of powerlessness for her, given the immense resources NERV allowed her.

“Doctor Akagi.” The Sub-Commander reemerged from the dark hallways, sans pilots. Presumably a good sign. Ritsuko dragged herself out from under the desk, and brushed her coat free of some of the dust. “The pilots have been delivered. I’m decamping to the cage. Which of your men are running that radio? I’ll need to take them with me, to do what little coordinating we can.”

“That’s Ibuki and Aoba. I’ll be putting them in your care, Professor.” She pointed over to where the two lieutenants were huddled around a Frankensteinien device that looked to be composed primarily of cables.

“Thank you. Once more into the breach.”

The Angel was some sort of enormous black crab-spider, but anything about capabilities beyond that was still unknown. None of the technicians-turned-spotters were equipped to do anything beyond simple visual observation, and Asuka wasn’t exactly about to ask them to try popping shots from their side arms at it. Aside from the more obvious concerns, the usable range on their sidearms was around one hundred meters. Which, for an Angel, was well inside what might be considered “suicide range”. So, they were restricted to appearance and intent. It was big, black, with some kind of exoskeleton, and was visibly roaming Tokyo-3 in search of the Geofront.

"Pilot Soryu, your fellow pilots have arrived. They will reach the surface in approximately twenty-five minutes.” Fuyutsuki’s voice was like a lightning strike directly to Asuka’s spine. She didn’t have long. Given enough time for a launch, then her remaining internal battery power, she had at most seventeen minutes to devise her victory,

“Acknowledged.” She replied. Her thoughts accelerated, considering the distance between her and the nearest weapon locker. No, she dismissed the idea. It was easily reachable, but with the power out, it would take a minimum of thirty-eight seconds to retrieve a weapon, and it was unlikely to do much against an AT field. Not in the short time she had. If she could catch it off guard, then she should be able to neutralise the AT field, and piece the core with either of her prog knife or her shoulder launcher.
Yeah, she could do it. An ambush could work. If she pushed Unit-02, she could get from her current location to the Angel in no more than eighteen seconds, from a standing start. It would degrade her battery, but the trade-off was probably worth it. It’s not like a standing battle was on the cards for her anyway. Accounting for her current battery level, it’d give her about two and a half minutes left for the actual fight. That should be enough. Yeah, more than enough.

Asuka stood up, and pulled herself out of the entry-plug.

“LAUNCH IN THIRTEEN MINUTES.” She yelled and didn’t even wait to see the technicians below spring to life.

Launching the Evangelion without the aid of NERV’s vast array of machine helpers was strange, Shinji decided. It was, overall, much slower. Every step was slower, more deliberate, and nothing flowed immediately into the next step. And it was dark. He was sat in complete darkness, even as the LCL flowed in, until they kickstarted the Evangelion and began the activation sequence. He was mostly used to the LCL process, but the complete darkness gave it a newly unsettling twist. It was lucky, he figured, that the breathing exercises he had to do to get the LCL into his lungs properly also did a great job of calming him down.

He felt the enormous hands of Unit-01 grasping the restraints, the enormous steel frames holding him in place, and the way the metal crumpled beneath their grip. It was like grabbing a handful of dirt, the way the restraint gave beneath the Eva’s hands. Shinji couldn’t place it, but the sensation left a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Thankfully, the restraints slid away from Unit-01 once he shoved. The weight of the Evangelion’s enormous body settled onto its feet, the experience familiar and reassuring. Even in the strange circumstances, things were working out ok.

“I am ready to begin our ascent, Pilot Ikari.” Rei’s face appeared in his vision, the square comms window bright against the darkness of the Evangelion cage. A second square appeared to the left, signalling No Visual. Fuyutsuki’s voice joined Rei’s.

“Excellent. We’ve attached the emergency battery packs. You may begin your sortie.” He waited just long enough to hear Shinji and Rei’s agreement, and cut the communication. The Sub-Commander had explained the plan in the long minutes before the Evangelions were ready to launch.

The emergency batteries extended their sortie time long enough to get them to the surface, even though they’d need to climb the distance themselves, through the miles of access tunnels. He and Rei would climb to the surface, and they’d meet up with Asuka. They were going to defeat the Angel. No problem.

Asuka’s plan was working perfectly. The launch itself had been smooth. She’d made it across the city in the seventeen seconds she’d planned and engaged the Angel in hand-to-hand combat.

The Angel was excreting some kind of acid; a volatile orange liquid that seemed to seep from between the enormous chitin plates. It flicked the acid at her, almost like it was trying to usher her away. She’d easily sprung away from these attacks, though. It was simple to avoid them. And her AT Field had been more than sufficient to defend against the attacks that she hadn’t been able to avoid. Armour integrity was still well above 80%, too, so there was nothing to worry about there, either.

Its enormous eyes, spaced equidistant around its main body tracked her every move, managing to skitter away from her lunges, despite its size. But that was typical of Angels, she knew. Somehow, they could move much, much faster than their bulk suggested. But that’s why they had her, Asuka Langley Soryu, the best in the business.

She currently had one minute, thirty-three seconds remaining on battery. Plenty of time.

Asuka dove out the way of an attempted crushing blow from the Angel, and swung up at the knee joint. Her prog knife skittered off the AT Field, like trying to cut through glass. She followed up with another two swipes, neither of which pierced the Field. But she could feel it degrading. Just a bit more.

“Pilot Soryu, Unit-01 and I are almost at the surface. Estimating rendezvous in eighty two seconds.” The bland blue face of Ayanami popped up in her vision. Her face was characteristically neutral, but there seemed to be a slight tone exertion in her voice. They must have had to climb the access shafts manually, Asuka realised. That would put their exit point maybe a kilometre north of the Angel’s current position. If she kept the Angel’s attention on her, the two of them could flank it, and take it out easily.

No. No, she didn’t need that, she could take it out on her own. She had just about fifty seconds left. She’s Asuka Langley Soryu. She could do this in her sleep!

Asuka dismissed the comm window and dove under the Angel. The Angel dribbled more of its disgusting orange acid on her, but it mostly pooled off the remains of her AT Field like before.

As she rolled to her feet, she pushed her hand out, forcing her Field against that of the Angel’s. The two AT Fields met, like two tidal waves crashing into each other. She pushed her field power up, gritting her teeth. Time seemed to elongate.

The Fields ground into each other, wearing away at each other. Asuka felt something tear, and she grinned. The Angel was open now.

Her shoulder launcher barked, and a handful of enormous spikes, each the size of a telephone pole, tore into the Angel. Her aim was off. That arm would be weak, but it hadn’t broken the chitin over the main body. Oh well. She still had the prog knife.

A step to the left dodged a thrust, and she turned into a spin, building momentum. She slammed a strike into its body, hammer-like, and felt more than heard it crack. Her feet slid around, and she bent into a lunge. Both hands on her knife. She still didn’t know exactly where the core was, but once she got through the chitin, she knew. She just knew. It’d be obvious. She just needed to get through it.

Unit-02’s legs pushed. All of their six eyes focused, landing on the two meter gap her last strike had left. This would do it. She felt her heart slamming in her ears, the blood thrumming through both her bodies.

It was a textbook strike, flowing out in a perfect example of bio-kinematics. The strike flowed, beginning in the thighs, pushing up and out, gathering every ounce of force and power the Evangelion had to spare.

And Asuka knew she’d overextended.

At very nearly the last moment, just long enough that Asuka couldn’t have pulled back or compensated at all, the Angel levered itself up and to the left, away from her attack. The screaming, vibrating blade, no longer hitting at a square angle, bounced obliquely down and away.

Fuck. Fuck.

“FUCK.” Asuka screamed, watching almost helplessly as the prog knife sliced effortlessly through an office building. The remains of the building were immediately pulped as the red bulk of Unit-02 squashed it.

She barely managed to roll onto her back when the Angel struck. Once, twice, it’s enormous legs slamming down. The first strike missed, but the second caught her right in the abdomen. She felt the LCL get forced out of her lungs in sympathy. The sharp bite of acid followed bare milliseconds later.

No, no, this couldn’t happen. She needed to get back up. She needed to get it off her. Reaching up, she grasped the Angel’s leg, and twisted.

Shinji was first to the surface. He and Rei had needed to eject their battery packs just before exiting the access shaft, and their time was limited. The Angel, luckily, was hard to miss. An enormous arachnidine shape, glossy black where it didn’t have eyes. And what eyes it had. Shinji felt a chill all the way down his spine when he first saw them. Simultaneously too human and completely alien, they seemed to weep orange goop that spilled from its black chitinous body like tears.

“Pilot Soryu is not responding to hails. Shinji, we should be quick.” Rei’s voice was like a bolt of electricity, and he immediately sprung back into motion. They’d agreed on a plan of attack on the way up, based on what little information the technicians on the surface had been able to relay to them via Fuyutsuki. It wasn’t complicated, but they’d agreed that simplicity was preferable given the number of unknowns. “I will take the north approach.”

Shinji nodded in reply, and pulled his pallet rifle up to his shoulder. Ten steps to cover, reorient. Six steps to cover, reorient. Keep the Angel in the center of his vision. Don’t lose track of Rei. The simplicity of the manoeuvre, so heavily practiced, was calming. He knew what to do. The next step was always so clear.

“I have reached an adequate firing position. Commencing cover fire.” Rei’s voice was straightforward, barely wavering despite the effort.

Shinji waited just long enough to hear the first sonic cracks from Rei’s pallet rifle, and moved. He slid into cover about two kilometres from the Angel. He felt his skin crawl. The eyes followed him, as he duck-rolled into cover. It felt like it knew. Knew where he was. What he was doing. Who he was, even.

“The Angel is not engaging.” Rei said. Her face showed the same emotionless focus she seemed to fall into in missions. “Reason is unknown. I recommend caution.”

“It might be guarding something? Is it trying to lure us into a trap maybe?” Shinji felt a knot of worry bubble in his gut. This entire mission was a swamp of unknowns. They knew so little about the Angel. He took a deep breath. “We don’t have long. If it’s a trap, I’m going to just spring it, and we’ll deal with whatever it is.”

His heart in his mouth, he stepped out of the cover of the office building, and onto the broad avenue. Pallet rifle held up to his shoulder, he moved forwards to the Angel.

Two steps later, he saw red. Not metaphorically. If anything, he felt something grab his heart and hold it still, unbeating.

He saw red. The red of Unit-02.

Where Asuka was.

Like a colossal big game hunter, the Angel perched over her, one leg placed firmly on the Evangelion’s unmoving chest. The orange liquid oozed all over it, bubbling and hissing, leaving the red hyper-diamond armour pitted and scarred. Particularly torn were the two hands that were raised, gripping the black leg in protest. The Angel seemed to be digging with one of its other legs, scraping a deep depression into the Tokyo-3 street which filled slowly with the acidic orange.

“Shinji. You’ve stopped moving.” Rei’s voice felt like it came out of nowhere. But, flicking his eyes at the battery timer, he can see he stopped moving for at least ten seconds.

“I’ve found Asuka.”