30Disclaimer: don't own. Refer the first chapter.
Summary: A tale of the closing movements of the Groundhog Apocalypse, and the eternal boy ensnared at its nexus. Three: Mother is a state of mind.
A/N: This, I'm thinking, is about as long as I want my chapters to get. Sorry if you like really long chappies, I guess, but even at this length I had trouble editing the thing with objectivity. Also: this fic isn't going to be Shinji/Misato. But I imagine those who like that pairing will enjoy the chapter's ending.
And while I'm here, thanks to Blitzstrahl, KendrixTermina and Neristhaed for their reviews. And KendrixTermina, your Gendo-warning is appreciated even if it was unneeded. Trust me, I have something far worthier planned for the so-called Bastard King…
The Eighteenth
Chapter 3: Bait the Trap (I'm home!)
—ox-oxo-xo—
"All right, just concentrate on walking for now…"
Shinji ignored Dr. Akagi for the moment, scanning the rapidly darkening area surrounding Unit 01 as the sun continued its stately descent past the mountains behind him. Mid-rise apartment blocks in abundance, he noted – not the wisest place to start from. To be fair, they were all in a bit of a rush, so he decided not to complain.
Besides, he thought he could see a way around the problem.
"Shinji! Pay attention!" Akagi yelled.
"I am the Eva, the Eva is me," he whispered to himself.
Shinji watched the scientist's brow crease for a moment, satisfied. He had to have some sort of excuse for being able to pull off his next move. First though… The massive right foot of Evangelion Unit 01 rose, hovering and then moving forward in a careful arc to descend with a relatively soft impact on the asphalt below. The car next to its footfall still lost its windows.
"He's walking!" Shinji winced. Really, she could be surprisingly loud when she was caught up in the moment.
"I am the Eva…"
The Eva slowly crouched in place, careful not to knock itself on nearby buildings.
"What are you doing?"
"…The Eva is me."
Walls rattled, power lines screamed and the car neatly flipped on its side in the sudden concussive burst of pressure as Eva Unit-01 sprang forward into a standing jump. It wasn't elegant, and it was far from poetry in motion. The Eva skidded and nearly fell on landing, propping itself up at the last moment with a hastily outflung hand. But as the Eva straightened, Shinji checked behind him and saw that he'd done well enough.
"…Whoa…" he heard one of the techs – Hyuga, he thought – mutter from somewhere off-camera.
"Getting out of that residential district. And if I know how to walk, then so does the Eva. Now, how do I get that knife out?"
"Whoa," Lt. Hyuga repeated, more than a little stunned.
"Sync rate at… 53.4 percent now. It's like the kid's some sort of born pilot," Lt. Ibuki muttered.
"…Huh." Lt. Aoba straightened in his chair. "I guess that's why the landing was so unimpressive. Kid's probably never done a standing longjump before."
Hyuga shook his head. "But still, just—"
"Sirs!" Another tech whirled to face the Commander's desk. "The target is starting to move again!"
"Right," Fuyutsuki answered, prudently deciding not to interrupt Commander Ikari's deliberations. "All personnel, assume battle stations, Level One."
On the bridge, the statement was largely redundant – although it did remind the lieutenants of what they were meant to be doing. Elsewhere, however, NERV personnel all over the compound scrambled to their assigned stations.
Most of them involved damage control. The Angel had already proved conclusively its capacity for destruction, with nothing more than a lazy afternoon of stomping, impaling and otherwise blowing to smithereens UN aircraft and fortifications. No-one wanted to see what this monster could do when it stopped mucking about. But since when had that ever mattered?
Gendo Ikari nodded slightly to himself, his eyes snapping to glacial clarity. "Begin the attack."
Shinji managed not to grin. Only just, though. It wasn't every day he succeeded in slipping one over his father.
One thing that Shinji had not been told of was the Angel's modes of attack – specifically, the long-range energy strike that had taken out one of the UN's spyplanes shortly after the N2 bombing. He hadn't asked. He could have, but that would have been counterproductive to his own plans.
The Eva would be awoken. That was his father's aim. And for that to happen, the Third Child needed to be taken out of the equation.
Shinji was the Eva, the Eva was Shinji. So he could walk, or run, without a problem. He could perform a clumsy jump, and hold a knife so as not to cut himself. But Shinji – the Shinji that Gendo Ikari had been keeping discreet tabs on for ten years, at least – had never been in any fight worse than the odd spot of being bullied in the corridors at school.
Had the Commander come to the conclusion that the Third Child might prove capable of defeating Sachiel by himself, he would have taken measures to make him mentally withdraw from the combat in other ways. And the easiest way would have been simply to hold him in place for further 'training' until the Angel appeared over the rise and started blasting everything in sight. Let him get a taste of collateral carnage, as it were.
But Shinji's ruse had worked. Instead, he was being sent forth to have the Angel beat the shit out of him.
Perfect.
Unit 01 began picking its way carefully across the fields toward the rise as the sky sank into evening over the fortress city. 'All right, Mother. I need you to listen very closely…'
…
…
…
—ox-oxo-xo—
Shinji cracked his eyes open, greeted with the sight of a ceiling that once upon a distant time had been unfamiliar. It was more shadowed than it had been that first time, as befitted the fact that dawn had just passed.
Yes. Perfect.
Well, probably. His memory was extremely fuzzy concerning the specifics of the fight itself, the bulk of his mind having been elsewhere for the latter half. If no damage had been wrought on the city itself, then it really would be perfect.
He would have to find out the long way, though. Shinji would never recall the battle in its entirety. The circumstances were different, after all. In the meantime, Shinji Ikari could only lay back, wait to be swamped with medical staff, and savour his first victory.
Or, more correctly, his first ally.
—ox-oxo-xo—
"Hello, Mother. I'd say it's been a while, but…" he shrugged helplessly, "for me, it's just been a few hours."
Yui Ikari walked out from under the shade of the tree, approaching slowly and carefully as if afraid he might bolt. She stopped in front of Shinji, staring into the pits of his soul with eyes almost the same shade as his own.
Eyes that filled to brimming with something more akin to horror than pity.
For the most part, reading the soul's deepest secrets was a curse – something he had realised long, long ago. It was the reason why Shinji had learned, shortly before the fourth Third Impact if he remembered correctly, to hide that aspect of his experiences from her when they met.
(Most teenagers, put in a situation where their mother could know their every thought and memory, might sweat over some of their more…imaginative fantasies. Or that time they went over to a friend's house and performed some bizarre act whilst under the influence of whatever. Or that they're still afraid of strangers bearing candy. Or…well, a lot of things that teenagers wouldn't admit even to themselves, let alone their mothers.
Most teenagers haven't killed themselves so many times they've lost count. Or killed so many others, even if a substantial portion of them were Asuka.)
This time however, there was no choice. To help him in the way that he needed, she had to know just about everything.
"Shinji… Is that really you? What have you done to yourself?"
But that didn't mean he wanted to talk about his past right now. Time was of the essence.
"The only thing I could think of. Sorry to disappoint you Mom… but I MUST do this. Can you…" Shinji swallowed. "Can you forgive me, Mother? And…can you forgive him?"
She remained silent for an endlessly dragging moment, before looking away to the lake. She was trying to find a reason to tell him no!, he knew. 'No!' to what, was up for question; there were several possibilities. And he couldn't blame her for any of them. "Is there really nothing of you left?"
"Well…there is one piece."
A small boy, about three years old, came into existence next to him. The boy looked up and gaped.
"Mommy?"
Yui squealed and reached down to snatch up her son. Young Shinji squealed and leapt into her arms. The older Shinji – correction, the much older Shinji – looked on with a sad little smile and waited for his mother to think matters out. Yui Ikari was one of the most brilliant scientists to walk the earth – even melting into a puddle of adoring mother-goo wasn't going to put more than a minor dent in that sort of intellect.
"I…" She eventually sighed. "I guess I can see why you've chosen this path. I can't say I'm happy about it. I've invested so much in Project E, even my very soul…"
Yui looked down at the joyful little boy in her arms, mind ticking over behind those loving eyes in directions that Shinji had long ago realised even he occasionally had trouble comprehending. Eventually she looked up and met his gaze. He found himself…not holding his breath, not really. But…
"…But I can see why it must be done. There's nothing to forgive, Shinji; you're not to blame for the ruination of my plan. I will help you." Her mouth, remembered so well as seemingly set into a permanent smile, tightened in a grimace. "Him, on the other hand…"
He breathed out. Metaphorically speaking at least. That sort of thing was more-or-less optional in this realm of the spirit. "Please, Mom. I'll make sure he does his best to deserve it. But I need you to forgive him. Or, at least give him a chance?"
…But, well, this was one of the reasons why he'd spared Young Shinji in the first place. The little tyke knew about bonds, took to them, reached out for them on an instinctual level his fanatic 'big brother' was simply incapable of matching. In a sense that was perilously close to reality, he didn't have a Mother any more than he had a Father. He simply couldn't afford to see them that way, not with all the associations of unthinking love and trust and loyalty implied. The kid, on the other hand…
Well. To the smallest of children, there was no real difference between death and absence.
More silence, this time with scorned femininity's frowning for accompaniment.
"…We'll see."
Shinji sighed. That was probably the best he could get. At least it wasn't a flat-out 'no'. He really had been expecting rejection, at least an initial one.
"All right, Mom…and, thank you. Is the Eva done yet?"
"Yes, she's just about done. I did my best to keep the damage down as you asked," Yui answered, her returning to sharpness. She kissed her boy on the nose, making him giggle and rub at it, and set him down. "See you soon, my Little Shinji. Come back anytime." Then she looked back up at Shinji's dominant persona. "I'll go ahead and bar the Eva to anyone else's control. That should help your cause."
"Thanks, Mom."
—ox-oxo-xo—
Stage One: complete.
Shinji climbed out of his cot, looking for his backpack. It was time to begin Stage Two.
—ox-oxo-xo—
The newest Eva pilot enjoyed a restful hour or so after his preparations were done and the heavy bank of post-battle tests had been passed with flying colours, apart from the memory loss. He wandered around for a while, chatting amiably with the odd resident or orderly, on the basis that if he was going to be spending large chunks of his time here (not that he planned to, but just in case), then it would be useful to him down the track to make his face known and grown accustomed to. Allies could be found anywhere if one looked hard enough, after all.
Shinji also made certain to be in a certain corridor looking out on the hilly scenery surrounding the NERV medical facility as Rei Ayanami was pushed past in a hospital bed (on the way to her morning's treatment regimen, as opposed to from it – just another effect of his shorter stretch of unconsciousness). If anything, the First Child's reaction when he smiled and waved – and threw in a wink for good measure – was even funnier than it was the first time…
All things considered, Rei felt…acceptable. For the most part. Physically, at least.
Given her current circumstances, the Third Child had presumably arrived in time to pilot, was found to be able to operate Unit-01, and then went on to defeat the Angel. No-one had actually apprised her of the situation, beyond the medic muttering something like 'looks like you luck out this time, kid' as he put away the stimulant and went for the morphine. But it was a new day, and everyone was still alive. It was the most likely outcome.
"Okay, can you straighten your left arm?" She did as ordered, ignoring the opiate-muted twinge of pain.
This was acceptable. Most things were, but this was more acceptable than the norm. Her current vessel would be allowed some time to recuperate before once more attempting to operate an Eva unit. The Third Child's participation would increase NERV's chances of defeating any Angels that came before that day. The Commander would be satisfied with this turn of events.
Rei wondered if the Commander would visit her today.
She would not tell him about the strange boy, the one who looked at her like he saw her inside and out and somehow respected? admired? liked? …recognised? what he saw. The Commander should not be bothered with such trivialities, even if she had to suffer them.
…But that was far from merely for his own amusement. Shinji had long ago learned not to repeat his father's mistakes. Rei was both one of the most important and one of the most mismanaged players in Third Impact, and the methods of the son had beaten the methods of the father at the bitter end every last time. And this time, he had every intention of teaching Gendo Ikari né Rokubungi the folly of his plans personally.
That, however, was a matter for later. In the meantime, while the NERV Commander prepared to field the Human Instrumentality Committee's inevitable litany of complaints and the Operations Director tagged along with her Technical Department counterpart to run oversight on the cleanup and upgrades of the city's fortifications until she was called back in to debrief her newest subordinate, the Third Child headed off to attend the meeting he'd scheduled earlier with NERV's Administrative Department. Specifically, the section which dealt with payroll and employee contracts.
After all, surely his father had better things to devote his attention to than personally arranging the de facto indenture of a single pilot…
—ox-oxo-xo—
"Wow. These are some pretty good terms…" Misato flicked through his new contract. "I can see you haven't been wasting your time here while you were waiting for me."
Shinji rubbed his neck and laughed nervously as he looked up from the hospital foyer seat at his newly official commanding officer. "Uh, thanks Misato. I've never done this kind of thing before, so it's nice to know I didn't do it wrong…"
"Oh no, you certainly haven't got this wrong," she assured him, smirking at his blushing display of relief. "I see you even scored a fat bonus for killing the Angel. Go, Shinji!"
He had been wrong, albeit only to an extent. Shinji had been greeted with a boilerplate contract left on file a few days ago by Commander Ikari, the terms of which were…well, lousy. If he had to guess, Shinji thought the document was usually to be found buried among the welter of paperwork that Misato or whoever was required to sign upon taking up his guardianship.
(Money, for the Third Child, had been essentially a non-issue for as long as he could remember. Initially, the deal had been so simple that for the most part he hadn't even thought about it: he did what he was told, and in return he was provided for. He might not have been provided much, but it wasn't as if he followed his orders with any real enthusiasm anyway, so it more-or-less evened out.
Once the spiral kicked into effect, he had quite often found uses for money. But the fact that he could basically act with impunity as far as legal and ethical considerations were concerned meant that he had tended to resort to other methods of getting his hands on it.
His favoured method, ironically enough, tended to involve selling classified information to interested powers, usually the Japanese government. Round up a decent sum in the first week, then invest it in Japan Heavy Chemical Industries and ride the stock high, pulling it out in the morning after Misato left for the Jet Alone Project announcement – that was usually sufficient for whatever needs he had at the time. Sure, he'd be caught. But usually he was done with it by the time that happened.
Shinji had never before seen the point of trying to negotiate a better deal with NERV. It probably wouldn't have been worth the hassle.)
He was told that this was essentially the same contract as that for the First and Second Children – which, after some brief consideration, did make a fair bit of sense to Shinji. After all, the girls had been with NERV for a long time. Which meant that those contracts were signed and approved by their guardians when they were still very young – indeed, when they were so young that even had they seen the contracts back then it was unlikely that they would have understood them, even assuming that they cared. No wonder they were essentially piloting for bed-and-board, pocket money and a trust fund that no-one seriously expected them to live long enough to receive. Especially when considering that Gendo Ikari was the next-of-kin beneficiary to two of those funds, and the recipient of the other was married to, as one of Asuka's friendlier iterations had once phrased it in typically flamboyant fashion, 'the biggest gold-digger that side of the Urals'.
Shinji had detailed the gist of this speculation to the accountant, who told him that his father had approved the contract and he had no choice but to accept it. The Third Child had been rather unimpressed with her legal opinion, and thus proceeded to drive a figurative series of FUSO heavy road-trains through the gaps in her argument.
"Hehe… You see Misato, it's because I don't have a guardian right now. Father signed me over to the teacher, and then the teacher waived it when I left for Tokyo-3. So because I'm technically an adult until someone is assigned to be my guardian…" he shrugged, looking at his lap while Misato dropped to the seat next to him, "well, it meant I could negotiate my own contract. I just need my new guardian to sign it off when I get one."
Of course, that hadn't left all that much wriggle-room – at least, not that the accountant had known about. It was clear to the number-cruncher that his father would get around to taking guardianship of the presumptuous little brat once he had the time to process the paperwork, at which point any contract drawn up would obviously be quashed. But Shinji Ikari was the commander's son, and had just saved the city yesterday besides – and also, he had stressed quite bluntly the fact that he had not yet agreed to take the job on an ongoing basis. So she'd begrudgingly decided to humour him for the hour or so required to draw up the new contract. It was a change of pace, anyway, something to while away some time until lunch.
Shinji hadn't been greedy; overall, his total pay had only risen by about fifteen percent from the original contract. But that increase had been added straight to the original five-percent stipend, in effect quadrupling his take-home pay. It was still unspectacular as far as adult pay-scales went, about on-par with a moderately qualified tradesman, but it would still easily suffice to make what little life he would have outside of NERV very comfortable…as well as fund the purchase of a great deal of source material, the better to justify his future knowledge of many useful (and in several cases downright necessary) topics of interest to any future onlookers.
And more importantly in this instance, to serve as a hefty if unspoken incentive for the woman who had just come in to pick him up.
There was another reason. But that would wait until the paperwork was processed.
"So, you're not moving in with your dad?" Misato asked rhetorically.
"I hope not," he snorted. "I remember how Dr. Akagi reacted when I warned there'd be conditions. I'd bet he would reject that contract just on general principle."
Misato froze. "…What? Why?"
"It's simple, Misato. He needs me to pilot the Evangelion, right? To fight the Angels?"
"That's right…"
"Well… I don't really remember how I beat the Angel, but…" He fell silent for a moment, his mien becoming pale and haunted. "I remember my body feeling like it was on fire, from when it fired that…beam at me…"
(Shinji had sent the Eva climbing up the rise, to crest the top and wait for the Angel to come and attack him. The fact that he'd carefully angled his trajectory as the Eva ascended so that nothing in the way of, oh let's say, underground shelters or major residential dwellings lay behind him went unnoticed by those on the bridge.
When he straightened at the top of the rise just in time to catch a blast in the face from Sachiel's kilometre-distant form, knocking his Eva all the way back down the slope, this proved to be extremely fortunate.)
"…and I remember when it felt like it was my eye that was having a white-hot spike driven into it again and again…"
(From there, on the face of it, the fight proceeded more-or-less to script. He could not have been blamed for being too rattled by Sachiel's titanic opening salvo – without the AT field, thank you very much – to regather himself when the Angel came floating over the now well-scorched rise and picked the Eva up by its head.
In the entry plug, Shinji screamed in unfeigned agony and scrabbled at his burning right eye and bided his time as the bridge staff panicked. It was just as the Angel's energy lance powered up for the sixth and final strike when he sent out the call for his mother to take over…)
And 'take over' she had. That was where his memory of the battle ended, replaced by an endless expanse of white mist which cleared to reveal the phantom of a tree-dotted park next to a lake he hadn't seen in reality since his mother was still wearing the body she was born with.
Shinji took a deep, shaky breath. "It was terrifying, Misato. And I'm fourteen! and now I'm expected to go through all that over and over again?" Then he straightened in his chair, twisting to regard the captain. She was, unsurprisingly, staring at him with horror and guilt hidden not-quite-well-enough under her professional expression as she waited for him to finish. "Could anyone be blamed for thinking I might get so scared that I'd run away from it?"
Misato's visage shuttered with an almost audible clang; he felt vaguely guilty for punching her buttons like that, but it really did have to be done. Much like back in the holding tank that first yesterday, sometimes she needed to be led through the logic for her to grasp it.
Besides, it was kinda like teasing if he thought about it in the right way. And teasing Misato was one of his life's minor, easily indulged pleasures. It wasn't as if he had any major ones to indulge, after all.
She hissed, "Don't you even think about—" Then she stopped, gaping bug-eyed down her nose at Shinji's hand laid gently over her mouth.
"I'm not," he stated firmly. "I'm the only one who can do this. And the people of this city need me to do it. I'm not running." Shinji stopped, and removed his hand, and turned away with a blush. "Sorry… B-But my father doesn't know that, and he can't afford to lose me, right?"
Misato shook herself, her eyes narrowing with the realisation of Shinji's point. "So what you're saying is that he doesn't want to give you anything that might help you escape…"
She considered that for a moment, coming to one conclusion immediately.
"You really don't get along with your father, do you?"
"It's not so much that, really. It's just… I don't know him. The last I saw Father was three years ago. And that was the first I'd seen him since Mother died and he abandoned me. I…" He shrugged helplessly, 'inadvertently' upping the 'cute' factor by approximately twenty Misato-points. "If he didn't need me, he wouldn't have called for me. That's just how he is, I guess. And besides, he's the Commander of NERV. He's got to be busy, right? So why would he want me in the way?"
Misato stared down at him, chocolate eyes smouldering with feverish debate. "Hmm… no relatives here either, I guess… And if you end up staying in the NERV barracks… huh…" She fell quiet, mind racing frenetically through the turns. They would probably put him in the barracks. Staying there would put him under the technical guardianship of some Security goon, who might sign his contract without a fuss but would more likely request instructions from their boss – that was, his father – before doing anything of the sort. And she believed him about not running away. But could he really be telling the truth about what his father would do when he saw that contract…?
Could she trust Shinji's reasoning?
…She didn't want to think it, she really didn't. But it made a lot of sense. Keep the kid close, cut off all avenues of retreat. There was just too much on the line to help it. For that matter, she herself probably had a duty to do the same – but unlike the Commander, she'd actually spoken to the boy. She'd seen the determination in his eyes. And right now at least, he had no intention of running. Now, anyway.
Could she trust Shinji not to run later on? Would that resolve falter under the strain?
…Yes, she thought she could trust him. He seemed a gruff and quiet kid, but he was pretty smart – smart enough to know when running simply wasn't an option anymore. And whatever he was, he wasn't a coward. He got scared sometimes, who didn't? – but no, he wasn't a coward.
So if that was the case, why shouldn't he get a decent paycheque for his efforts?
Still…she should probably keep an eye on him somehow, just to make sure…
Shinji could see the point at which she reached her conclusion. If this were an anime, the moment would probably have been marked by yen-shaped pupils and the distant ringing of a cash-register. As it was, the way her eyes lit up and the cheshire grin that spread across her face remained distinctly unnerving – even if it was exactly what he'd planned in the first place.
—ox-oxo-xo—
"WHAT?"
"So, I said I'll take care of Shinji," Misato yelled down the phoneline. She coulda sworn the trucks had better soundproofing than that… "I've already got permission from the brass."
The transferral of her new roomie had been surprisingly easy. The Security gopher she'd intercepted had been pleasantly amenable to her 'let the boy's superior officer keep an eye on him' line of attack. There had been a brief delay over the new employee contract, though. Whoever had gone over it with him had been so certain it would be turned down, they hadn't even bothered to lodge the damn form!
Ah well. It wasn't like it was all for nothing. Shinji's temporary security card had already been linked to his new bank account, and the high-six-figures sum from his Angel-bounty bonus would be added to it by the time they stepped out of the building. And she already had the first portion of her cut all lined up, too.
"And hey, it's not like I'm going to 'put the moves' on a kid…"
Ritsuko exploded on the other end of the line. "Of course not! What the hell are you thinking?" She prudently moved the handset away from her ear. "You're always like that! Honestly!"
"She just can't take a joke." the captain muttered as the doctor continued her tirade. Misato suddenly smirked lecherously down the phoneline. "Then again, he is cooking me dinner tonight…"
Ritsuko's torrent of vituperation increased in volume and venom most satisfyingly. Misato laughed and pulled a face over her shoulder at her new ward. Shinji cocked an eyebrow at her in obvious puzzlement, being too far away to hear their conversation. A little disappointed, she grinned and turned back to the handset.
"Anyway, Rits… How far along are the new defences? I guess the cleanup is done by now?"
"That's right, Misato. I'm currently overseeing the placement of some new equipment for the next battle. If you're done over there, you should really get back. Your job, remember?"
"Yeah, yeah, keep your panties on… I'll be there in half an hour."
They made their farewells and she turned back round to regard Shinji. "I gotta get back out there, I got pulled in here a little earlier than I expected, and I've still got some work to do."
Shinji stood there looking a little lost. She could practically hear him asking 'what about me?'… Well, most of the public transport was still down, so it was either leave him floating around NERV or—
"Say, wanna tag along? It'll give you a little perspective on what goes on behind the scenes… besides, no-one wants hospital food for lunch, right? We can pick something up on the way!"
He smiled. "Well, it sounds better than hanging around here. And yeah, I'm famished!"
"I'm… I'm home!"
"Welcome home!"
It was…fitting, in a sense. Over two-thirds of what would have been his adult life had been spent calling this place 'home'. There were so many memories trapped in the walls of this humble little flat – many of them endless repetitions, many more of them simple daily or weekly habits worn into the dance of decades. Memories pleasant and terrible, and quite often both at once.
(He'd tried other places, of course. A bunch of times in the same apartment block as Rei, especially between the fifth and sixth Third Impacts. A bunch more in the Geofront barracks where NERV were originally going to put him. Occasionally with one of the bridge bunnies, though it was tricky to organise – he still remembered fondly the handful of months he'd spent living with 1st Lieutenant Shigeru Aoba and the more esoteric corners of his music collection. Almost as fondly as he recalled the brief time he'd arranged to live in the Security barracks itself. Unlike Misato, some of the Security agents had actually let him drink with them a few times. He'd been a borderline alcoholic (or at least, had really wanted to be one) by the time he'd been shifted back to Misato's to join Asuka for their dance-training.
There were some strike-outs, of course. Ritsuko, for instance – her sometimes neurotic notions of spatial order and personal space did not mesh well with flatmates. Living with Kaji had been much more of a tribulation than Asuka might have expected. And like them, Mr. Fuyutsuki simply had too many secrets and too little time to get along in more than a distantly kind fashion with Ikari Jr..
Not once had he lived with his father. And the only complaining he'd done about that was to convince others to let him move in with them instead.)
Shinji had never really had a concept of the term, the first time he stepped over this innocuous aluminium rail-strip. Now he appreciated the term, the meaning and the moment of coming home for what it was.
One last time. Full circle – it really was fitting.
"As you can see, the place is a little bit messy, but make yourself comfortable…"
He looked around, masking the sense of nostalgia as best he could. The cairns of dead Yebisu soldiers! the bench masquerading as an altar to the Grand Old Gods of Technicolour Snakes! the migratory Half-bagged Mounds of Misplaced Landfill slowly welding themselves to the boxes of unpacked belongings in the corners! the isolated pockets of cleaning supplies making their desperate last stands for Hygiene and Motherland…!
Pfft. It wasn't that bad, really. The parts of the floor that weren't buried under garbage bags were actually pretty clean where they hadn't had food or booze spilled on them at some point. It took longer than that for a place to truly qualify as a shithole. (In the case of Rei's apartment, for instance, a little over a year.) And it wasn't like he cared. He was home!
"It must've been some housewarming!"
"Hehe, it was pretty fun," Misato chuckled on her way to the main bedroom. "Can't remember that much of it though. Weird, huh…?" She stuck her head back round the doorframe. "Oh! Sorry! Could you put the food in the fridge?"
Right. Time to get to work. "Sure."
About thirty seconds was taken to familiarise himself with the layout of the flat, no attempt made to mute his footfalls as he navigated around the several stockpiles of vaguely biohazardous material – more for Misato's benefit than his own, of course. It would look rather strange if he miraculously knew the place like the back of his hand. Then followed the cartage of rubbish to the front door, complete with the solemn if hurried interment of the tragically massacred— ahem, valiantly vanquished army of Yebisu. Cleaners were rescued and stored appropriately, with the detergent briefly utilised to wipe down the table and kitchen-bench areas. A thin layer of dust was removed from the stovetop with a cloth as the food-fridge slid open in his peripheral-right vision.
Shinji turned to the table, smiling at Misato. "No need to wait on my account. Dinner won't be ready for another twenty minutes."
She promptly cracked open and drained her first beer of the night with the customary salutation, watching the boy as he flicked open each cupboard in succession to survey what she had in the way of culinary implements. It might have surprised those who had tasted Misato's attempts at home cooking to observe that she actually possessed many of the necessary tools (courtesy of her mother's adamant insistence, for the most part); that surprise would have dissipated upon closer inspection, the vast majority of said tools having never been put to their intended use. Shinji made no comment, merely digging out a wok and chopping board before closing the cabinets and going for the knives.
Misato sat mesmerised, trying not to look too awed in case he happened to be covertly watching back. She just couldn't help it. The unassuming boy seemed to float around the kitchen, like he was performing an intricate dance that he'd practiced for years, the tiniest of movements paced and honed to the perfect minimum of extraneous energy consumption. He didn't even seem to be exerting himself! and yet he was constantly in motion, hands ever busy performing tasks ranging from straightforward to outright arcane to the bachelorette's wondering eyes—
"Hmm?" He'd stopped, or at least slowed. He must have said something.
"How spicy did you want it, Misato?"
"Um… very?" she mumbled, still more than a little dazed.
"You got it." The rhythm picked up again. "What's in the other fridge?"
Misato blinked. "Oh! That's your other roommate. He's probably sleeping right now."
Shinji nodded, pausing to retrieve a small mixing bowl and another chopping board. "What does he eat?"
She froze. Should she tell him? She had planned to surprise Shinji, for her own amusement more than anything. But…watching him dance around the kitchen like he'd been born there, Misato felt the urge for mischief dwindle. It'd be like pranking her mother.
"Fish, usually. PenPen's a hot springs penguin."
Shinji froze in turn. Not for long at all, but enough for Misato to feel a little satisfaction. At least she'd surprised him a bit. "Really? I've never heard of such an animal. They must be really rare or something…"
Misato's mouth occupied itself in telling him about PenPen while her eyes went back to lightly hypnotising her brain, which reverted to the idling position it felt it deserved after a long, hot day. Pranking my mother? Where did that come from…?
Maybe that was it, she realised.
Wild horses would have been required to drag it from her lips even after she'd got back around to speaking again, but Misato Katsuragi had always both appreciated and envied her mother's skills in the kitchen when she was a kid. She might not have wanted to be a homemaker for the most part, but the way she'd never found the knack for cooking –real cooking, not the augmentation of instant meals she did pride herself on perfecting – had bugged her in quiet little ways ever since they had been separated. Every house Misato had stayed in since had just never seemed quite like a home without a lived-in kitchen.
Put that way… she'd never had a home, not really, since Second Impact. Since she was Shinji's age.
He'd chatted with her amiably enough over the course of the afternoon, inquisitive and thoughtful about everything that drew his attention – at least, once he had been reassured (quite honestly, much to everyone's surprise and relief) that he didn't appear to have hurt anyone during the course of yesterday evening's battle. But he'd mentioned even less about his past than she had. And she had read his case file. Misato doubted that Shinji had ever really thought of his sensei's domicile as a home. Which meant that he hadn't had a home for so long that he probably didn't even remember what it was like.
No home, no mother. (No father…) How did a boy deal with that and end up like Shinji? And how did such a kid step into a random kitchen and instantly mark it as His Rightful Domain?
"You know, Shinji?"
"Yes, Misato?" he replied, setting down two heaping bowls of where the hell did he pull the noodles from? coiled round and under two generous portions of some sort of vegetarian stirfry she didn't recognise. Hers, she noted with interest, was noticeably redder than his portion.
"One day, you're going to make some lucky kid one hell of a mother."
Shinji blushed and stammered something that might have been protestation or thanks, conveniently hiding his face by hurrying over to the fridge to fetch another Yebisu for Misato and a soda for himself. By the way he was trying not to grin when he returned, she knew it had been appreciated.
Who'd have thought? This really was a home now. Honestly, she'd intended to be the one mothering him, but who cared? A home was a home. And it was good.
Maybe she'd give her a call later on tonight. She had to be worrying, what with the news being dominated with the attack on Tokyo-3…
"Thank you for this meal!"
They ate the meal. And it too was good. Excellent, in fact – not as spicy as the curry she'd been planning to nuke before Shinji had offered to cook tonight, she could taste the actual flavours for once, but still with enough of a bite to it that it went spectacularly with the beer.
Speaking of beer…
Crack-Fizz-Glugglugglug… "AHHHHHHHH, good stuff! Life just doesn't get any better than this!"
She meant it. For once, she actually kinda meant it. Sure, there were plenty of things that might be better about Misato's life. But things right now were going great! The Angels might be back, but Shinji had already killed his first, the city was pulling together behind him even if most of them didn't know he existed, and she was in the box seat of the war against her nemesis. Her car might be trashed, but Shinji had promised to foot the repair bill in exchange for free rein on the owner's manual (he said he was curious, and for all she knew he actually was). And the new 'man' in her life might not be available for…ahem, those duties – because no, she really wasn't planning to put the moves on a kid! – but dammit he somehow still made this flat feel like a home instead of the flop she'd still been trying to convince herself it wasn't.
Yeah. Things probably could be better. But right now, she'd settle for this any day of the week.
And bless his heart, Shinji just smiled back like he understood and tucked into his meal.
Then he stopped, and looked up.
"Hey, I recognise that outfit!"
Oh, yeah. This was gonna be sweet…
Shinji Ikari stared up through his ceiling, body innocently ticking through its organic checklists as the mind floated in a realm of that which for most other people would have been called speculation. For him, most things were a matter of probability.
For instance, he could hear Misato in the bathroom. That she was on the phone to someone in there, with the tap running, indicated a high probability that she was speaking about him. Probably to Ritsuko, about whether he would pilot again. Shinji couldn't hear her words, but he wasn't particularly worried on that count. After all, he'd agreed to pilot. Hell, he'd knowingly signed a contract to that effect.
His teeth flashed in the darkness. Misato had not actually been the primary target of that trap.
That contract would cross Commander Ikari's desk. Misato had kicked up quite a ruckus over at Admin, and they would be looking for revenge once things had calmed down a little. And in all probability, given that said contract was legal and non-negotiable without the say-so of both Shinji and his new guardian once it was countersigned (something that he had insisted on, much to the accountant's chagrin), there was only one way his father could react to such a small-minded challenge to his authority from his own child.
And that was when the trap would snap shut, and Gendo would be his. And then he could really get started.
In the meantime, there was plenty to be going on with. Tomorrow would be filled with the battery of beginner's tests that he should have taken years ago, and seeing how many ideas he could contribute to their training programme without arousing suspicion would help pass the time. Shinji supposed he really should do some shopping as well – preferably after the tests, given that a few well-phrased questions about the Second Child would give him the excuse to go out and 'begin' learning some German. In the same vein, NERV Security could do with a visit; he could leave it for a few days, but sooner rather than later some martial arts training would really come in handy. That and some gymnastics. The spirit was willing, but the flesh needed to get the muscle-memory down as soon as possible.
As for Monday, Tokyo-3's 1st Public Middle School had a desk waiting for him. A desk surrounded by students, the majority of who had fathers (not mothers, never mothers) who worked in diverse and far-flung sections of NERV. A desk surrounded by potential security leaks, of which Kensuke Aida was merely the most accessible. And, not least, a desk surrounded by boys and girls innocent and ignorant of the hell that Shinji Ikari had pledged to do his level best to spare them from.
That he befriend them was for the most part unnecessary, but could be considered a bonus where it happened.
Shamshel would be along in about two weeks, and Ramiel a week or so after that. Then the Jet Alone fiasco, after which Asuka and Kaji were slated to arrive and things would begin to get really interesting. And lurking unseen through the byzantine depths, SEELE and their myriad array of pawns kept their eyes peeled for the first sign of things deviating too far from their own dark scenario.
Shinji had a Plan. But even he had to admit: out towards the beckoning finish line, that Plan was awfully elastic just now.
Yup. Sleep was pretty much optional from here on out. And that didn't even take into account the chores that he'd offered to take care of in lieu of paying rent on the apartment.
That's right, Misato – no rigged Janken for you tonight. And no humorous eyeful of naked Shinji either.
"Shinji, I'm coming in."
The door slid open. Shinji rolled his head to look at Misato, making sure to look her up and down and blush a little. He wasn't sure she could see him, but it was probably wisest just in case she could, so as not to disappoint her.
Hey, was it his fault the place had hot-and-cold running fan-service? She was standing there in a towel, for the gods' sake!
"I forgot to tell you something."
And here came the pep talk…mostly.
Shinji wasn't the only one who found bleak thoughts in the bath sometimes. She might have been trying to come off as comforting him, but Shinji knew this moment for the vulnerability it represented for one Misato Katsuragi.
Katsuragi the soldier, Misato the flirt, those were her safe zones. Neither of them were exactly conducive to reaching out and caring for someone – let alone letting someone else care for her.
"You did a very praiseworthy thing today. You should be proud of yourself."
It didn't escape his notice, not like it had the first time. 'Today', she had said. He wondered sometimes if it was a slip of the tongue, or merely a sign that she had foregone her bed last night. Either way…
"And you shouldn't blame yourself, Misato. I chose to come here, and I choose to stay."
Her silhouette twitched and stilled. Her breathing hitched, then resumed with the regularity of conscious control. She was truly out of her comfort zone, and trying so hard not to let it show.
"Do you really?"
Not 'did', but 'do'. Still ambiguous. But still… either way. He could deal with ambiguous nowadays.
"We're still here." His smile caught the hallway's light. "Are we not?"
She stepped back from the doorway.
"Good night, Shinji."
The door slid shut. But her presence lingered behind the safety of 8mm balsa panelling.
"…Thanks."
Shinji rolled over with another smile. And as Misato's footsteps carried her to the sanctuary of her own room, he was pretty certain she was smiling too.
Maybe he should dig out the venerable SDAT. Just for old times' sake…
Ending A/N: A couple notes. The 'technically an adult' thing? I figure for the purposes of the fic that Gendo completely relinquished guardianship of his son and sent him away almost immediately in order to totally sunder any chance of a bond between them, not realising until later that keeping his hooks in him would be useful down the track. (Buggered if I know how the Japanese legal system works.) And if you're wondering, a 'technicolour snake' is an Ockerism (Australian term) referring to projectile vomit – usually after mass amounts of booze.
In keeping with the bulk of the animeverse timeline-evidence, I've decided to have Shamshel turning up in two weeks, instead of the three weeks that Hyuga asserted in Episode 3. Just thought I'd mention it, in case any of you figured it for a typo.
The next chapter is going to depart from the short-lived pattern of following the episodes, as Shinji fits into the lives around him and as Gendo encounters the trap. It also means that it might take a short while to write to my satisfaction, as more original material is therefore going to have to be generated and I don't want to fuck up the characterisation or canon.
As always, thank you for taking the time to read; reviews would be greatly appreciated, especially if they come with suggestions for further improvement.