AN: Yup, they keep on coming. Imagine this consistency in my previous story! Hah! Nah, I mean, I'm home, which always allows me to spend some time reading and writing. Just finished another of Faulkner's classics yesterday afternoon, enjoying some rum and a good Cigar. Today I decided to add a little bit to this piece, so, chappie four is done! Hope you like it!

I own nothing.

Locked in Mariah's wine cellar all I had for lunch
Was red wine, more red wine, and Captain Crunch
Red wine for breakfast and for brunch
And to soak it up an in between snack, crackers to munch
Mariah, what's ever happened to us, why did we have to break up?
All I asked for was a glass of punch
You see, I never really ask for much
I can't imagine what's going through your mind after such
A nasty breakup with that Latin hunk-

Chapter Four: Bagpipes from Baghdad

Scavenging for food or shelter had long since become unnecessary; the cargo jets, ships and trucks had quickly taken over the manual labor, so that in very little time machinery was picking up the remains of what once had been buildings. He let the monotonous drone accompany him as he walked through uneven stones, rocks and debris in search of… in search of a familiar blue mass of hair, or, in his wildest and impossible dreams, a mane of crimson.

The sun felt hot against his neck, the ratted clothes provided little to no comfort as they clung to his body and made the walking uncomfortable. The trip to the crater and back was a tricky one, it went through haft-destroyed, inhabited living quarters which had taken little time to fill with small criminals, robbers, pick-pockteres and addicts. He felt the hungry eyes of a junkie as he passed by him, shuddered after mistakenly stealing a glance at the man's face, and redoubled the speed of his pace. He had no money; whatever the Japanese, German, American, Russian and Chinese governments paid him, he simply gave away.

"It's not my money," he whispered, darting glances at his surroundings and happy the terrifying neighborhood with the old, bearded man and his empty eyes was behind. "I didn't do anything to earn it…" Thousands had died in NERV's attack alone, thousands. "It's blood money," he shook his head, frowning slightly. "I don't want their blood money. Don't you think so, Asu-" He idiotically turned to his left, where she had preferred to walk, and soon his frown melted into sadness and resentment. "Oh," he whispered, and kept walking on the lonesome, empty streets. "That's right… sometimes I forget…" He barely took notice of where his feet took him, lost in thought. "Sometimes I forget… I'm all alone now… again…"

Misato was busy; at the very least that detail had not changed. She and the ghostly apparition of Kaji had gone back together and now ran the Tokyo Police Department with an iron fist in an effort to better the city's living conditions. She continuously told him it was for his own sake, she was protecting him, ensuring nobody had the original idea of putting another bullet through his belly. He would come home to an empty house after school, if the sad little meetings of about twelve of the former thirty students could be call class, cook dinner, eat, clean, and then sit there, on his bed, and try not to fall asleep.

He was about to turn the corner which lead to their latest living quarters when the screams reached him.

"Hey, look! Look, you guys! There he is!"

"Is he… yeah! That's him! Let's go!"

"What?! Hey! Wait for me, you jackasses, wait up!"

Alarmed by the following footsteps and the three to four youngsters now hot in his tail, Shinji forced his feet to move faster even when that meant upsetting his still healing ribs. The boys behind him looked about his age, dressed in casual clothing considering it was a Sunday, but the way they had so deviously smirked as he passed had alerted Shinji's nearly permanent paranoia.

"Hey! Heeeeeey! Shinji! Ikari Shinji! Ikaaaariiiii Shinjiiiiiii Hey, man, stop!"

"Come on, hero! We just want to shake hands and say hello! No harm in that!"

"Yeah, man! Talk about being mean to your fans! Hey, come on! Are you gonna start running now"

He was, actually, actively starting to jog a bit faster to get away, back to the empty house where there were no Asuka nor Pen Pen, no Misato and no home, yet just as he was about to round the corner and run at full gas, he slammed against someone much taller than him, sending the boy to the ground.

As he hissed and massaged the stll tender area of his lower back, Shinji blinked and saw… "T-Touji?" The boy in front of him had black track suit, exactly the type he remembered from the sport-loving friend from school; everything else, however, was different. This man was taller, older, buff in the chest and more than unfriendly, if his eyes were an indicator.

The new one began cracking his knuckles just as the small entourage reached them. "Well, lookie here," he said, anger and morbid satisfaction emanating off his voice. "The famous Third Child, great War Hero, comes to this neck of the woods to pay us poor mortals a visit. Come now, boys, let's show out guest some proper etiquette, shall we?"

Scared, alerted and injured, Shinji was basically helpless as the youngsters took him each by the arm and hoisted him to his feet. He struggled against their hold as fear morphed into panic and the very sensation of having hands on his body began to trigger an episode. "Now, mr. Hero. I think we ought to explain or local hospitality a little bit,"

A fist slammed into Shinji's stomach, stealing his ability to breath. "You see," the oldest and largest one said. "All of us, here, decided to live like this. We could go to the UN, get a case going and we'd have a house in no time! But this is where we lived, you get that, don't you, hero?"

Still coughing from the previous attack, Shinji only managed to grind out a 'please' before he was hurled back to his feet and another fist dug into his stomach. This time, the third youngster opted to participate and punched him near the temple, turning Shinji's vision into a grayish mass of globs. He did feel the kick right on his sternum, though, even when he never saw it coming.

"There, now that's a little bit better, huh, hero?" He was picked by the hair, and the eldest slammed his forehead viciously against that of the former Third Child. Shinji felt something hard and metallic slam against the back of his skull a second afterwards. "Hey, be careful here!" The leader demanded. "I'm having a conversation with this piece of shit!"

"Screw your conversation!" The third youngster squeaked, tube held firmly in his hand. "This bastard's the reason why our neighborhood looks like fucking Mad Max's movies! He's the reason my mother's dead!"

"Yeah, my father's shell-shocked because of him! And my aunt never came back!" The boy holding his left arm provided, and sunk a knee in Shinji's soft tissue, forcing coughs out the former pilot. "Okata, your turn!" Then, from his right side a foot lifted and impacted flush against his face; the sickening crack of cartilage being smashed immediately forced tears out of Shinji's face. Why would they do this to him? Why were they hitting him? Why… The next kick came from the leader, the shoe crashed against the left side of his jaw. "I.." he tried between assaults. The boy who held the tube ran it across his right knee, forcing Shinji to the ground; both youngsters released his arms and the boy fell unceremoniously to the broken-down pavement. "I'm… I'm sorry."

"Huh?" The largest one said, raising an eyebrow. "What'd you say, Ikari?"

"I'm… sorry," he repeated, and disregarded the leaking of blood that came from his skull and was begging to taint red the right side of his face. "I'm so sorry… I didn't mean… to hurt your families… I swear…" he implored, openly crying. He was two steps away from falling back into the pit of hallucinations, had the eldest one not hauled him back to his feet.

"What did you say?" The boy bristled, showing perfectly white teeth. He certainly was on the right way of seventeen, Shinji thought, tall, strong, good dentition, good looking. Why would someone like him waste time on the unholy Third Child? "Do you think you can just grovel at our feet and we'll forget that it was you who did all this?!" A kick straight the base of his stomach had Shinji on his back again, trying to crawl away from his attackers as tears refused to stop dripping down his chin. "Beat on this nobody!" Bellowed the leader, and began to rain kicks down his physique. "Fuck him up! It's not like we have to worry about Sohryu, anymore! Come on! Come on! Beat the living shit out of him!"

The four of them launched a brutal combined offensive, kicking and hitting every available inch of his body, and inside, in his brain and subconscious, Shinji sought out a shelter but found nothing but screams, and blood. "Please…" He uttered between kicks. "Please, stop, I'm sorry…" A kick almost smashed directly against his teeth, had Shinji not closed his mouth in that exact moment, and instead it opened up a gash on his upper lip. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what, you useless little shit…!" Came the ragged reply from one of the youngsters. "This is what you deserve, you demented murderer! You killed my sister, you asshole! You killed her and she was only three years old! Fuck you! Fuck you!" A foot implanted itself repeatedly just a few inches under where his rib had been broken and pushed into his ribcage, pushing out all the air Shinji thought he owned. "Go to hell, Ikari!"

And where do you think I am, right now?

In between the endless kicks and punches, in between the slams and insults, Shinji blinked, and he was back in the battlefield, with Unit 02's pieces clung in the bloodied hands of the EVA Series, being brought to him like trophies, mementos of the victory. Kaworu had seemed so peaceful, so convinced that he would flourish in this new life as both him and Rei had pushed him out of the LCL… he had looked just as peaceful when he had turned the Angel's body into wet paste. His father… Ikari Gendou, had tasted a little bit like stale chicken when he had bitten him in half. And then… Asuka had left, and he was alone with Mother, alone with the voices. The voices, the voices, they began to scream right into his eardrum and muted whatever insults were being thrown his way. Some of them whispered, some of them suggested, others roared in rage, others cried in muted horror and despair. Some melted under the flamethrower, others were filled with bullets, others were stabbed, but most… most just managed a horrified gasp as Lilith set about collecting the world's united consciousness. Asuka screamed, long and loud in his ear, when the Spear penetrated her eye socket.

Something broke inside of him.

Yet another foot planted against Shinji's head just as his right hand crawled a picked a relatively large piece of debris. Nobody was coming to rescue him; nobody was going to stop these youngsters from beating on him. All around the decayed living area the neighbors watches with sick little smiles drawn on their faces, enjoying the public punishment of their tormentor. A foot dug into his gut, his head was lifted by the hair and punched so thoroughly his skull produced a wet crack as it impacted the ground. Not a single person was going to do anything at all; they were all happy to watch him be pummeled to death for no particular reason.

Then…

The stone was clutched so hard in his palm that the sharp edges had already dug into his skin. A single bloodshot eye turned to glare up at the biggest one, the eldest youth who continuously kicked him either in the stomach or the head. He wasn't sure what sort of look there was in his eyes then, but it seemed terrible enough to freeze the boy in mid-attack. Shinji snarled, and to the shock and fear of everybody in attendance, began to rise back to his hands and knees even as kicks rained down on him. Asuka was gone, Rei was probably dead, Misato had abandoned him once more. There was nothing. Nothing. Nobody. This was the reality he had fought for, the world he had given up Instrumentality for. This was… home.

Then everybody can go… and die…

He caught the foot coming towards his face with his left hand, and in the blink of an eye Shinji had risen back to his feet. The boy's dumbfounded expression was washed away as the stone held in the former pilot's right hand cracked him around the jaw with so much force that blood came out his face where the stone's edges shredded the skin. Before the boy could fall onto the rubble, the hand carrying the stone blasted on the opposite side of the boy's head.

The body fell limp on the ground, and the bloodied stone was clutched harder against Shinji's battered fingers. He wasn't crying anymore, he wasn't moping, was definitely not pathetically groveling at existence. No. He was angry.

"W-W-What the hell was that?" The second one said. Shinji moved slowly, barely blinking, face half-covered in blood, and picked up the small tube. "Screw it, it's still three on one!" The big one suggested, and rushed him. "Get him!"

Just as the boy was about to finish his tackle Shinji moved with agility he didn't know he had, raised the tube and smashed it against the back of the boy's head. Two more came to him in an attempt to seal his movements, but to the former pilot they felt more like pillows than actual humans. "Come on, hit him, hit him!" One said while raining blind punches to his face. Shinji grinned, unbeknown to him, and drove his knee deep in the boy's crutch. The other one he grabbed by the head, always smirking, and head-butted him once, twice, thrice. On the fourth time he heard the cartilage crack just like his own had, so he let the boy fall to the ground, unconscious.

"Come on," he repeated without thinking; blood dribbled down his nose and head and stained the rubble under him. "Come on… it's three on one…" he spat on the ground, predatorily circling into the biggest one, who was currently holding his head like a small child and hissing. He stood over the boy now, straddling him, adrenaline pumping into his system. The first punch was unconscious, the second one was not, and the third one felt incredible. He found small holes in the boy's pathetic turtle defense, raining heavy punches from any and all angles available. "Come on," he muttered after a hammer fist made the boy's head bounce in the concrete. "Come on… come on…" How long did he lay there, hitting the boy without respite? "Come on… come on… come on!"

Once his arms were too exhausted to move, once the voices in his head had quieted down to some extent, Shinji blinked and looked around himself. Under his legs lay the misshapen, blotted and disfigured face of the young man who had attacked him; there were lacerations both over and under the boy's both eyebrows, his right eye was swollen shut, his lips were inflamed and purple, and tears continuously cascaded down as the small, frightened whispers of his victim brought the former Third Child back to reality.

"(Sob)… P-P-P-Please…. N-n-n-o more…." He boy trembled under him. Shinji stood shakily, body dripping sweat and forehead dribbling blood. Once is eyes settled, he realized the amount of fearful gazes which stared at him in muted horror from the windows, the streets and the sidewalk. He blinked, raising his hands; and felt the meager breakfast he had consumed lurch back to the surface when he realized they were covered in crimson.

"I… I…" His once hardened, deadly glare quickly became the sad frown which had for so long identified him. "I… I didn't… I'm so-" And the he cut himself off, hands shaking. He had done this, he had enjoyed it; beating on so many enemies, nothing to think about or remember beside the next opponent in front of him. Like piloting EVA, he was able to unwind, let the anger out, scream, yell, trash and destroy to his leisure. Why then, why oh why, did it make him feel like the lowest scum in the face of the Earth? "I… I didn't want…" You didn't want to what, kill them? His mind provided; Shinji's frightened gaze travelled through the many eyes observing him, and found the same look in each and every one of them. Fear, disgust and rage came to greet him. Liar. You like this. You love this. You are an animal, a beast, a monster, a killer. This is what monsters do, they cause fear, and they cause carnage. It wasn't enough to take family members from them, was it?

The boys he had just pummeled to the ground were curled up like dying snakes, shaking, whimpering, bleeding and unwilling to move. "No… I… I'm not…" You're not what? His own voice answered. Shinji's feet began to move on their own, turning to stare at the shocked, unfriendly faces that surrounded him. You're not a killer, hmm? Then who killed that boy's family? Who blew this place to hell? Who didn't fight when it mattered the most? And now, after everything you've done, you can't even sit around and let your victims take their justice. Pathetic.

His hands, his bloodied hands were shaking with fear, shock and paranoia, his feet moved unevenly as he went back in the direction he'd come from, chest heaving with dread and pain. The voices laughed and laughed, screamed, bellowed, cried out and accused him. "I'm not…" Misato told him, practically on a daily basis, that Third Impact had not been his fault. "I'm not… I didn't…"

He tripped, falling heavily onto the broken floor and worsening the gash on his upper lip, but Shinji only got back to his feet and ran. He had no clue where he was going, or what he was doing at the moment. One thing was clear enough; he needed to forget. Only for a little while, only for a few minutes, a few seconds, he needed to forget.

"AAHHHH!" A terrified scream left his battered throat when Unit 02's head manifested before him, eyes dangling off the sockets and blood all over the ground. "No… no, no, no, no, no, no…" He shook his head, circled the non-existent head and dashed forward. As he hurried off to the shore, Rei appeared in front of him, beside him, up in a building, down the street, in the corner, and all over ruby orbs shone and glared at him. "Stop!" Shinji screamed as loud as he could in the maze of broken-down buildings, and continued to run.

When next a shrivel of sanity returned, the boy's cobalt orbs turned to stare at the colorful sign outside the only store opened in the shore's vicinity. The small, one-story building had clearly received structural damage during the explosion; the wall on the left side was cracked and the ceiling seemed caved in, the door appeared to have been recently installed, since it was the one part of the establishment which had a relatively new appearance.

Shinji's empty eyes turned up to the sign.

LIQUIOR STORE.

He stared at the fluorescent words in a strange trance; his body was aching, both his hands felt frozen in the form of fists, he felt his own pulse through what he assumed to be a gash just above his forehead. Every now and then a drop of blood would fall down his jaw or chin, yet most of it had already dried up and itched against Shinji's skin. He blinked, arms shaking, throat dry, and a flash of Misato fucking Kaji crashed against his brain, forcing Shinji to hiss and shut his eyes. The scene unfolded even worse with closed lids, so the boy grumbled in pain and held onto his injured head, eyes locked in the small sign if only to divert any and all other images away.

He saw the old, bearded man from before enter the establishment with an air of surrendered gloom; Shinji's body moved again on its own as it sprinted towards the elder gentleman. "A-Ano! Um… excuse me, s-sir… sir?" The man halted just as he was about to open the door, turning tired, knowledgeable grey eyes to him, which opened just a bit wider upon noticing how caked in blood Shinji's face was. "Ah… sir… I-I don't mean to b-bother you, but…" He hurriedly took out the many Zen bills Misato had jammed into his pants that morning after breakfast, and pushed them in the man's calloused palm. "C-Could you… could you get me something…? P-Please?"

The man eyed him with faint interest, seemingly unbothered by both Shinji's grime appearance and the request itself. If anything, the boy felt a strange sense of… empathy coming from the wizened man dressed in tatters. "What's your poison, kid?" The fellow intoned with an old grate clearly manifesting from lack of use. "Beer, Rum, Vodka, Whiskey, Sake… what'd you want?"

Shinji looked down at his feet, surprised to see a drop of crimson hall down to his dirty shoe, and fidgeted uncomfortable. "I… I don't know."

"Oh," recognition danced in the man's voice. "I see." He patted Shinji's shoulder, forcing the boy's body to turn rigid. "I'll get you somethin', just don't overdo it. Stay put, kid."

It look less time than what he had expected; in about a minute the elderly man had departed the small store, now with a small smile dancing on his dried lips as he carried a large back in one hand and a bottle in the other. Shinji chose to sit on a particularly large piece of debris located next to the store, and once he received his package, bowed deeply to the gentleman who of all things, offered back a considerable sum of the bills the boy had just given him. "Uhm… I'm sorry that… I had to ask you… you can keep it if yo-"

"You don't need to do that," Without letting Shinji respond, the man pressed the mass of sweated bills on Shinji's chest and lifted the bottle. "I already took my payment off of ya, so don't sweat it. Here," Old, crooked molars took a hold of the lid and opened it with a resounding pop. "To your first time drinking."

Shinji hesitantly took a hold of the bottle, sniffed it and scrunched up his face when the strong odor basically burned through his nostrils. "Ugh… w-what is it?"

"Rum," the elder man said amiably, chuckling. "Yeah, it's a strong one, this little bugger. Come on, now, kid. Just close your eyes, take three or four gulps and chug it down like it was medicine. Trust me."

"O…Okay…" Shinji did as instructed, closing his eyes and feeling his eyes water as the heavy beverage scorched him from the mouth all the way down to the stomach. He tried his absolute best to not spit any of it, and swallowed with great difficulty. "Uhhg…" he panted, noticing the immediate effect the strong liquor had on his limbs; the permanent stress that kept his muscles tense like the string of a cello began to dissipate, if only a tiny bit, and as he tried to regain his bearings, Shinji saw no other sign of Unit 02. "T-Thank you," suddenly very tired, he offered the bottle back. "It was… refreshing."

"Heh, hell yeah it is," the homeless man agreed and took a large swig which left the bottle almost half empty. "Bad day, huh," He stated matter-of-factly; Shinji felt the man's grey orbs go up and down his bloodied attire, swollen lip and dirty, matted hair, and nodded. "Here," producing a small hankershief, the man moistened the tip with the bottle and handed it over to the boy. "Press that against your lip. It's gonna sting." He obeyed, hissing loudly when the alcohol made contact with the cut on his mouth. "Yeah, kid, I had a bad once. Sometimes it's all you need, ain't it? Just one… bad… day."

"And what happens," the boy whispered to himself, and hissed again as he pressed the moist cloth on the cut above his forehead. "When your entire life is just one… big… stupid… bad day?"

"Well," the homeless man stood, taking another large swig of the bottle. A gloved hand picked one of the yellow cans from Shinji's bag, opened it and offered it to the teen. "Then you drink, kid. You drink, and you try to get by." The boy dumbly accepted the can, clearly so shaken up by what had just occurred, and once again offered the mass of crushed bills. "Nah, kid. I don't need it." He motioned towards the emptiness of the rubble behind him. "Some of us are here because we want to, because it's better for everyone else; this is where we belong, us animals. Maybe you don't get it now, but when you grow up, you'll see. Thanks for the drink, Shinji. Get those cuts looked after, will you?"

"T-Thank you, sir!" Shinji stared dumbly at the man's retreating back, words crashing into each other as he tried to articulate a sentence. "S-Sir! I… ah… may I ask what's your name?"

The homeless man turned, offering Shinji a melancholic smile which somehow stung him right in the chest, forcing some unknown ache out his heart. A gloved, battered hand moved a piece of ragged cloth away from the man's chest, and the boy's eyes widened.

JSDF

Nodding, he let the old cloth cover back the crest, and saluted Shinji. "Lt. Colonel Watanabe Harou, at your service, Ikari-san," then the former soldier's shoulders slackened, his expression turned to one of guilt and sadness while grey eyes turned glassy. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry about all of it. Kampai, Shinji."

He raised the cold beverage at the man's retreating back, not fully understanding what had just transpired, then took a small, demure sip from the can, grimacing at the taste. Regardless, the swig of rum had warmed his body, made the agony feel just a tad far away, it had numbed out the fear, the memories and the visions to a degree, so Shinji took another sip, and another, and another. Soon enough the first can fell off his fingers, followed by the second, the third and the fourth. He never remembered washing the blood off his face, taking into consideration that every time the cold metallic container pressed against his damaged lip a sting of pain sparkled. He never thought about washing off his hands, removing the pieces of debris from the skin of his knuckles, or even seeing if the cut on his head had stopped bleeding.

No, all Shinji remembered was how with each beer he chugged, his entire body sunk even further, driving away the ever-present self-hatred and guilt, even for a small lapse in time. His head lolled from side to side after the first pack had been emptied; he burped, felt like his stomach was terribly full and yet could not vomit anything out, and swung left and right as the cover of night loomed over the rubble. At some point he looked over at his own hands, pressed the cold cans on the bruised knuckles and watched, enthralled, as the blood intermingled with water and dripped down into the ground.

And so he drank, and he forgot, for the very first time.

It was a Sunday, just four days after his sixteenth birthday.

Shinji groaned, painfully aware that his leg was burning and the wound on his stomach felt fresh as the day he'd gotten it, and rolled over to his back only to hiss when the injury near his lung reminded him there was scarcely any position he could rest in. Tired cobalt orbs drew over to the clock on his wall, which read a petulant 5.03am in the full gloom of an early morning. Only the very early birds like the crows and turtle doves sang at the moment, eclipsed at times by the random cicada that decided to make itself known, or the random car that sped off to work in the wee hours of the day.

Exhaling slow and carefully, Shinji felt around his forehead and discovered no evident signs of strong sweat in his hair or pillow. "Weird…" he said to himself, and scratched his left arm. "I'm shaking like a leaf at this point in the morning." He sat up with evident difficulty, gulped down the glass resting on his nightstand, and opened the small drawer where the pills were kept. "Ah, smart move, Sohryu." He grunted as scarred fingers lifted the small note.

I TOOK THE LIBERTY OF REORGANIZING YOUR LITTLE TRIPPY COLLECTION. WANT A FIX? COME TO THE KITCHEN. XOXO ASUKA

The paper wrinkled under his fist when he squashed it and huffed. All in all, his head was not spinning, there was barely any nausea in his stomach, he had not dehydrated through the night nor had he suffered the fevers and shakes of withdrawal. "Hm, maybe I ought to get myself a healthy portion of those edibles," he mused, and tried to stand. His leg gave out twice, but on the third try Shinji grit his teeth, drawing breath sharply while his right hand clutched the edge of the bed. Forcing uncooperative limbs to move forward, the young man was able to lower himself into the wheelchair without any sudden bleeding bursting out his wounds, which were in fact killing him with pain.

"I swear to God, if I don't get myself something soon," his hands shook tremulously while pushing the wheelchair forward. "I'm gonna snap like a twig…" Wishing for nothing more than a quiet, peaceful morning with plenty of pills to take the edge off, Shinji wheeled himself into the living room and groaned loud enough to be heard. There goes my quiet morning, straight down the fucking drain it goes.

Asuka was up as well, it would seem, and was in the seemingly thorough process if inspecting every book he had. "Oh," he heard her mutter. "Hmm, General Biology, the Anatomy of Man… huh? What? Madness and Civilization, Discipline and Punish," Asuka's eyebrow shot up at the next book. "The History of Sexuality? Well, well, let's see what else is there."

He wanted to cough, grunt, speak or in some other form distract the girl from disorganizing his carefully placed collection, but the annoying little brat bit down on one of his shackles and Shinji's mouth remained closed. On the rare occasion that his anger turned absolute and blinding, he tended to forget a particular fact which was branded in his soul just like Third Impact was branded in his mind. She is beautiful, he pondered, staring at the way the golden-auburn locks danced on her back when she moved. Now a grown woman, she was far more astonishing than she'd been as a teenager. And I am… I do feel… His fists closed. I still can't let it go, can I? That's just sad, Shinji… A pathetic schoolboy crush you never acted on…

Asuka took out an old, worn-out volume and stared at it with awe. "Trouble in Paradise," she read, slightly taken aback. "From the End of History to the End of capitalism," she whistled in quiet amazement and set the volume back. "Now, what else is… oh!" Another book danced on the female's hands. "The Interpretation of Dreams and the Dynamic of Transference, wow."

She still looks as gorgeous as the first day I set eyes on her, realized the injured former pilot with a strange sorrow corroding his insides. Envy and hatred pulsed into existence all of the sudden, and Shinji frowned, the dim light which for only a few moments had illuminated his eyes extinguished. That's right, she's not yours. Never was, never will be; she moved on, remember? Of course you remember. Of course you remember Möritz, don't you? Or that Latin hunk, what was his name again, Luis? No, no, Fabio. Yeah, that guy. Imagine what a wonderful time they all had, with that beautiful woman right there.

She had tucked him in, kissed his forehead, ruffled his hair and told him she would be just outside, should he require anything, and being the foolish little worm he was, he had fallen right into her game. She's already got a life, you idiot, he reminded himself, continuously observing the curvature of the young woman's body as she stretched to retrieve this book or the other. You're just… the guinea pig. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts. That's what junkies do anyway, isn't it?

He recalled her words from the night before, how she had admitted to being less than kind to him for their entire time together, how she was prepared to face the consequences, should he wish to take her life in retribution. What infuriated him above all things was, however, how he actually wanted to believe in her statements, so Shinji focused on the envy instead, on the sense of faint, misguided and ridiculous betrayal, once again drowning his own sentiments under the anger.

"Aber hallo… Engels, Freud, Jung, Foucault, even some volumes on cognitive systems theory," Asuka smiled to herself and took a wider look at Shinji's large bookshelf; it was by far the biggest piece of furniture in the house. His collected works went from biology, anatomy and chemistry to anthropology, philosophy and psychology, with classics like Lovecraft, Dostoyevsky, Gogol, Twain, and Faulkner strewn about. A hundred books lay before her at the very least, with the vast majority of them showing signs of use and not few of them in either English or German; scratched or marked lines, small syntax of the page's content scribbled in a corner, and the familiar, indiscriminate use of a marker in texts he considered important. "I guess he didn't stay a full idiot, after all."

"No," he called back, and smirked when Asuka screeched and jumped away in surprise. "The idiot got himself a bit of an education. I did graduate college, you know." He wheeled away from her, blatantly ignoring how the redhead fumed behind him, and set about making himself a decent cup of coffee. "It's a little known fact that I have a degree in modern philosophy."

"Right," Asuka said at last, hot on his tail. "And you just had to choose the one degree that was more moronic than the cello, nicht? I mean, come on! You could've studied biology or music and become a professional cellist, but then you decided books about whether or not God is a human construct gave you a higher calling." Placing her hands on her hips, Asuka couldn't help but smile. "Such a boring little boy."

"It's not everyone's dream job to have their hands deep in somebody's entrails," Shinji responded while preparing all the necessary elements for his daily cup. "I like to read, and that career was basically reading all day and all night long, so I went along with it."

"You actually have to think and process what you're reading, Baka," Asuka remarked, pleased to see Shinji move around with just the faintest of tremors around his fingers, and less indications that he was in constant pain than the day before. "The very idea of philosophy is to analyze and understand the correlations between things which seem to have no correlation at all. It's quite a bit like physics, really," she sat on the table, smirk ever present. "You just have word walls and rambles instead of equations, and more rambles instead of results. But I guess it suits you well enough. Say, don't you have a coffee maker like everyone else, Baka? I was looking all over for it. For Six Freaking Days."

Shinji offered a deadpan glance at her question, producing a decently sized metal pan. "Could you do me a favor?" He asked instead, voice cold and guttural. "Could you please drop two and half cups of water in here? The sink is… just a little too far away. Thank you." She shrugged and did as requested, handed over the pan and lay her head on the table, observing how Shinji placed the pan on the kitchen and produced a small, wooden object which was finely decorated and painted with all sorts of purples, yellows, blues and whites. Afterwards, Shinji opened the lower left cabinet and took out… a sock. At least it looked like a sock to her, anyways, cylindrical in nature, stained and on the way of changing color from white to deep brown. "Eh?" She exclaimed, and pointed to the filter. "What's that supposed to be?"

"Breakfast," Shinji replied even more harshly than before. He was getting itchy, his right leg had begun its typical dance of up and down, and sweat was effectively starting to run down his back despite the early hour and comfortable temperature. "I got this from the Costa Rican government some years ago," he clarified, pouring about five spoonfuls of a very delicious smelling coffee into the sock. "They realized I was a coffee fan and gave me this, apart from inviting me to some party where they properly demonstrated how to make the perfect cup of coffee."

Just before the water was boiling the young former pilot swiftly took it from the stove and poured it on the sock. Instantly, Asuka's nostrils flared and opened, inhaling the strong, delicious aroma and groaning in undisclosed pleasure. "Hmmm, that smells incredible," she noted. Shinji's overall cold attitude was a clear indicator he was getting close to the edge; the girl took the handful of pills she had chosen and changed it from one pocket to the next. "So, how'd you sleep?"

Shinji was quiet for a few moments; he waited for the pot to fill and poured the coffee back in the same filter, filling the first cup and handing it over to her. "I actually slept very well, thank you," he said, and although his words were courteous and respectful, the man's' voice was cold and devoid of emotion. "Your uncle Joey certainly knows what he's doing. Yourself?"

"I know, right? Yeah, I slept well enough, I guess," She acknowledged and took a sip. Asuka's eyes widened, she took a second try and stared at the black substance in awe. "That…" she started. "Has to be the best coffee I've ever had in my life. I didn't even pour any milk or sugar in it, and it's so good." She gulped down a large portion, uncaring that the drink was relatively hot. "Damn, that's a good sock you got there, Third."

"It's a cotton filter," he clarified, sipping his own large cup. "Again, thank you for… helping me yesterday. I don't really remember having had any nightmares last night, shit," he looked over at the ceiling and back to his cup. "It's been a while since I last said that."

FLICK

"What is your problem?! (Cough) Huh?!"

"Language, Baka," the girl stated for her part, stood and took out a piece of toast she had been preparing. "Be a little bit more tactful when you're with a lady, would you? That may work wonders, hell you might even get a girlfriend!"

"Pff," Shinji snorted in derision and took a drink of coffee. "Yeah, like a couple of words here and there are the thing that's stopping me from being the lady's man I'm destined to be. Ha, here I thought it was the fact that my daily life is a clusterfuck of painkillers, booze and cigarettes, or the fact that I don't really sleep. Speaking of which," he extended his hand in Asuka's direction, fingers shaking and eyes narrowed to steely slits. "I'm in the kitchen, now. If you'd be so kind."

The girl's smile faltered some, turning into a thoughtful frown. She sighed. "Alright, Mr. Third," the small bundle of pills bounced on the table in Shinji's direction. "There you go, Guten Apetit."

A scarred hand lifted the small bag and maneuvered with heavy fingers to unwind it. Shinji's stoic gaze fell in her, and Asuka watched as he lifted an eyebrow in slight astonishment. "Now, this is certainly unexpected. Just how much of an enabler are you, Frau Doctor?"

"I changed your dear Xanax for some Oxycotin, it'll do wonders for the pain of the wounds," Asuka said instead of answering his petulance; the memory of her dream washed over, making the girl feel strangely observed and slightly vulnerable under Shinji's scalding glare, which she decided to return full force. Two can play this angry game, Baka. And I've been playing it for far longer than you have. "The rest is about half of your daily morning portion, and half a gummy bear. That should keep you from collapsing into a fit of vomit and piss for the next few hours."

The young man swallowed the entirety of the small bag with the last remnants of his coffee. So she was glaring at him, now? Painfully familiar, he pondered, content that the tremors would cease in a few minutes and his body would stop rejecting its own skin. As if you could hope to stop me if I really wanted to get a proper fix. I'll play along, Sohryu, for now. His eyes narrowed in her direction and glanced over to the answering machine by the table. "Yes, what a treat that would be," he said, and picked up a stray piece of toast while he wheeled over to the living room. "I'm sure you'd love to see how wonderfully I behave once the fevers settle in and I start bashing my head against a wall."

Shinji pushed the blinking button on the small device in hopes to drown out whatever response Asuka managed to direct his way. "Hey there, hero!" The easily recognizable bellow of his boss reverberated through the house. "I heard they dispatched you, so the girls and I were hoping to come by and say hello tomorrow afternoon! Hey, I got that red wine you love so much! So, we'll swing by, hopefully you'll be awake, and we'll have a great time! Hey, Shinji, you're a hero, my boy! People have been coming over for days just to ask how you're doing! Even that girl from your gym swung by, that Katia girl-"

"Krista, boss," a female voice interrupted, making Shinji snort in amusement.

"Yes! The one with the cargo pants! Boy, was she angry! She kept yelling, asking where the hell you lived! Well, we didn't budge! We know, we know you don't like people sniffing around your house, but we'll definitely be there! Get me some of that tuna, will you? And by the way, Ko-"

He pressed delete without even remembering Asuka was behind him; while the restaurant owner was by all accounts a generous, outspoken man who treated people with respect, he was a talker and tended to monologue for as long as the workers allowed him to in the mornings. Still, the man's overall jolly nature and positive attitude managed o draw a small smirk on his face. The next message blinked into existence, so Shinji pressed play.

"Yo, Ruthless, yo yo yo yo yo yo yooooo!" This time, Shinji actually chuckled, still completely ignoring Asuka's shocked expression and the fact that she was there, in the first place. The loud, boisterous voice replaced and eclipsed that of his boss in seconds. "Hey bro, just dropping this message to say daaaamn, son! You nuked them mo'fockers, didn't you?! That left hand, I'm telling you, dawg, that's some N2 mine shit! Bam! Go to sleep, bitch! Boy, I saw the papers the other day and I was like shiet, that gotta my little Ruthless right there, fucking three mo'fockers up, getting fucking stabbed four fucking times and winning the mo'focking fight! Shiiiiieeeet! That is some gangster shit, dog, you feel me?! Hey man, Krista been whooping everybody ass in here, saying where the fuck you at! Holla at your boy! Or else that bitch go'n kill me, dog! Holla!"

The message ended and Shinji actually let out an honest laugh. There were very few things in his current life which provided any form of solace that did not involve consuming substances. When he went out on his 4am runs through the city, and the jog through the woods when the sun came out was one. Visiting the old gym where the owner and manager, a monstrous, heavily muscled man from the States ruled with an iron fist, was about the second only thing which brought about some sense of belonging, of humanity into his broken down sanity.

"So," he heard the girl mutter from behind him. "Who's Krista, Shinji?"

She had absolutely not intended to spit out the name like it was a sour taste on her tongue, but the flares of an irrational envy which manifested in her chest erased the girl's advanced functions and left her with the basic software. She seethed upon watching the boy shrug indifferently at her question, and regard her with a cold, disinterested frown. "She's one of my training partners. Comes to the restaurant sometimes, when she wants to treat her girlfriend or whatever."

"Your training partner, is she," she repeated, teeth grinding, but then her brain finished processing Shinji's statement. "Wait, her girlfriend?"

"Yes, her girlfriend," pushing the delete button with enough momentum to force a tiny crack from the device, Shinji breathed in deeply and let the pills do their magic. Yes, the tremors were almost gone, the voices and the giggling ad receded to an almost unnoticeable hum in the background, and his skin didn't feel like it needed to be rinsed off with a fork anymore. "She's gay. A lesbian, ach, whatever the stupid socially accepted word is nowadays. She used to be bi, like a year ago, but then she met this chick and got serious with her, and well, they've been going strong for about ten months."

Aware that she had just displayed a tiny fraction of childish behavior with no reason whatsoever behind it, Asuka recomposed and tried to summon anger from anywhere. The idea of this Krista and Shinji training together worked wonders for said objective. "So, is she your only training partner, or something?"

"Not really," The boy in the wheelchair had already taken a few selected elements off the cabinets and was pushing himself to the fridge as he spoke. "We spar together sometimes; we go out for drinks, too, on some rare occasion. She's tall and heavy for a girl, at least here in Tokyo, and well," he produced a large piece of tuna and maneuvered with his right hand to place it on the counter. "I'm not super bulky, so we spar and wrestle since we're about the same height. I'm heavier, sure, but she's faster, so it's a good exchange."

Wrestle? They wrestle? How do you mean, wrestle? Like, on the mat, with your hands… all over her body, holding her down?! The subconscious reaction was about to jump out of her, but the young doctor chose to dig her nails as far as they went in her palms. "Oh, that's good to hear," her voice came out clipped, every word bitten through gritted teeth. The fact that the girl's sexual inclination had nothing to do with Shinji was somehow a fact her very brilliant brain was happy to ignore. "I guess you do have some lady friends hanging around, don't you?"

Then, she heard Shinji dig the tip of the knife so deeply into the wooden cutting board that the tuna almost flew out. He was hunched down, forearm bulging with veins and strained muscles, shaking slightly. What the hell? What? What did I say that he suddenly got so angry, huh?!

"No," he growled dangerously low back to her, not even bothering to look back. "No, I do not."

He picked the knife's pommel and with his elbow supporting the cutting board, extracted the tip and was about to start trying to cut the fish from the strange, difficult position when the redhead blinked, and understood what he was doing. "What the hell, Baka?! She barked, and felt relief flood her veins when the familiar annoyance at Shinji's overall antics returned. "That, what you just did right there was a sudden movement! Arg! What are you doing?!"

She stalked over to where he sat, and the only response her anger got was a bored, detached glare. "Did you not hear my boss say he was going to swing by? Since I can't run, or even so much as walk at this point, I'll go about preparing something for my guests and leaving it ready early on so I don't have to push myself… (cough, cough)… cooking quickly. Do you have a problem with that?!"

"Yes!" Asuka exploded, glowering at him and taking both the cutting board and knife from his loose grip. "Yes, I do! What part of taking care of you was too hard to get, huh? I can cook, you idiot! I'll cook for your stupid guests, you'll see!"

She set the cutting board on the table and was about to start slicing the large tuna piece into lovely filets when the heavy grip of Shinji's hand stopped her cold. "This is my kitchen," he said lowly, forcing the girl to gulp and realize just how strong the boy's hold was becoming. "Please respect me, if not in life, then at least in my kitchen." He slowly unwound the hold, to Asuka's continued shock, and gently took the knife from her hand. She felt bolts of electricity run through her skin when Shinji's calloused hand took away the cooking tool. "These are my guests, my co-workers, my boss. They expect certain things, in a certain way. I will cook for them."

He sounded… close to solemn, so serious that the young woman felt out of place, and was forced to once more realize Shinji had very little left to do aside from cooking, or trying to at least. The activity would be a welcomed distraction for anybody in Shinji's position, more so someone who cooked to deal with anxiety and many other things. Asuka nodded, moving out the way. "I… just thought you'd be more comfortable on the table since… well, you're still on that chair for another day or so."

Shinji was already engrossed in ever so delicately slicing the fish, eyes burning through what she knew to be the Senaka part of the tuna, one of the best cuts which she had picked to cook on that day, ironically enough. She took two steps back and blinked, noticing one of her many desires throughout the years had been so very easily given to her; she was watching Shinji cook. "Hm, need the other one," The young man muttered, wheeled himself to the counter, took out a boning knife and started over. "Yeah, this'll do. There." Soon enough a perfectly cut section was ready. "Just a little smaller for Kodame," Shinji blinked, and turned to look at her. "How much do you like tuna?"

"Huh?" The redhead blinked and returned to the present There was an expectant look on Shinji's face. "What?"

"How much do you like tuna, Asuka?" he reiterated, and pointed towards the large piece he was currently working on.

"O-Oh!" She blinked again, putting both hands on her hips. "W-Well it is one of my favorite blue fishes, to be perfectly honest."

"Big portion for you, then," he mumbled, and just like that his attention refocused on making every move of the knife as precise as humanly possible. Having to painstakingly work with precision herself, the redhead could not help but admire the calm way in which the boy's hands stilled and worked. He blinked from time to time, breathing shallowly and hissing every now and then; he was using his left hand, she noticed, in order to reduce the pain to a minimum Shinji had propped his forearm on the table, eliciting the least amount of strength possible. Still, the sharp intakes of breath were a clear indicator that an invisible blade stabbed him through the back again.

"I can help, you know," She found herself saying, unsure of how to engage him. He seemed at ease when cooking, focused on the task, and apparently even half the portion of everything he took in the mornings had worked to still his cravings for the time of being. "Unless you want to do everything yourself, of course. I can at least get the ingredients while you work your mojo on that tuna."

Pausing for a second to consider it, Shinji turned to look at her and shrugged with his right side. "Sounds good to me. I'll need some onions cut, some carrots, a bit of salt, rosemary, some seaweeds I have on the fridge, some capers for the sauce, along with a few berries and some butter. Oh, and some potatoes, a nice mashed potatoes would go nicely with the fish. Do you know how to make rice?"

"Is that a serious question?" While truly astonished that Asuka already knew where his every ingredient was stored and had placed his requests on the table, Shinji stilled stared boringly at her.

"What I meant to say was, do you know how to make Japanese rice?" He carried on to the task of finishing preparing the meat; it was a true gift from the heavens, this piece of tuna, and the fact Asuka had already placed in the lower side of the fridge the night before allowed him to work on it before its temperature or consistence became unpleasant.

"Of course I do, Baka," shaking her head in derision, Asuka went about the task. "Although, do we have to get on this so early, Shinji? It's not even seven o'clock yet, jeez."

"The rice can wait," he conceded. "I would like to finish cutting the vegetables, though. And I'd like to peel the potatoes."

"Well, okay then," she set about placing every object Shinji would need and a varied amount of knives, plates and pots in his direct vicinity, and once finished, rose to stretch. "This all seems like something you can do without bleeding to death," her eyes darted towards the bathroom. "I think I'll hit the shower while you have your fun."

"My house is apparently, and legally your house for the next month at the very least, so be my guest," Shinji ground out, distracted. "I'm sure you've figured out how the hot water works. Hmm, I'll take a shower after you."

"Whatever you say, Herr Baka!" The girl's soft footsteps drifted over to her bedroom, and soon she disappeared behind the door. Soon enough there was ruffling here and there, the sound of a large zipper being opened and more shuffling; the former Third Child turned his eyes back to the vegetables.

In his mind's eye the scene unveiled again, and the vultures descended on Unit 02 with ravenous hunger.

Shinji took a deep breath, set down the knife and massaged his forehead. It fell wrong and ill-advised to openly insult Asuka, but the mere act of trying to be civil with her was proving harder than he thought. The conversation of the former night came back to memory, deepening Shinji's scowl. You betrayed me, huh, he thought gravely, slicing through the onions with alarming speed and precision. What about when I sat there in my Entry Plug while you got your mind raped, huh? Is that not betrayal? He took the carrot and cut it in half with one fluid, violent motion. Big hero in the red cape, give me a break. Isn't the guy supposed to rescue the damsel in distress? Isn't a man supposed to protect that which he holds dear? His vision blurred a bit, surely from the onions he continued to chop into tiny squares. Even after Third Impact I couldn't even look at you square in the face, when the fuck did you ever betray me?!

The image of that blasted magazine ran through him, the one with the blonde, perfect specimen Kodoma and the others seemed to have melted for. The one before that, the Latino piece of shit who had cheated on her, and the one before that, the other German cunt ran through his mind's eye. Shinji angrily cut the second carrot, wishing for little else than to inflict said damage on a limb and not the harmless tuber. What is there to betray? What right do I have to feel envious? We weren't anything, not even friends. We lived together and were total strangers, and now… now this stranger comes back and forces me to remember all that… hell…

Unit 00 grotesquely grew like a putrid fruit until it exploded, and just like that the Rei he had known burned in her Entry Plug, and a new clone was prepared. Shinji took a heavy intake of breath and placed the chopped onions on the pan, pausing for a second. This is your kitchen. Seven years have passed, you're not- When he opened his eyes, however, he was in the Entry Plug, watching as Unit 01 ascended, and as he foolishly looked over to the skies, the blood of Asuka's EVA fell hot and rancid on him, and pieces of her were gnawed at by white snouts and white teeth. Shinji breathed in once more, upsetting the cut on his back, and opened his eyes to see his left hand clutching the knife with fervor and the wound on his stomach complaining loudly as the pills had a not so positive effect with the healing ulcer.

The physical strain thankfully brought him back, so the young man set about peeling the potatoes and placing them on the water-filled pan to his right. The sound of the door opening distracted him just as Asuka marched over to the bathroom. "See ya soon, Baka! No peeking!"

Turning to look at her, Shinji motioned over to his room with the knife. "I'm not the one who's been sleeping in somebody else's bed having a perfectly new one to use, so whatever. No peeking, as you say." He noticed the way Asuka's back straightened and arched, and almost laughed at the way her shoulders stiffened. "Forget it; you didn't know that was supposed to be your room, anyway. I don't care."

She nodded stiffly, he noticed, and fled inside the bathroom with haste. Shinji produced a small pill from his pant pocket, glaring at the door, and without her watching chugged down another Valium and the remaining half of the so called super gummy bear. If alcohol was out of the question, then a few pills would have to keep him sane during the afternoon; he was in no particular inclination to neither making a fool of himself in front of his co-workers nor to have to survive the evening sober. The waitresses loved the Great Sohryu Asuka Langley, after all, the girls were sure to flip like schoolgirls the moment they laid eyes on the former Second Child.

What's it to her if Krista and I fucked or not? A part of his mind asked. All she ever gave me was… I don't even think you call that a kiss, she almost gave me a trip to unconsciousness. And I know she was sending me twisted signals back then, I know I never picked on that, or the bathing suit, or the Wall of Jericho, but hell, the face of that obnoxious blonde popping in his memory almost cost Shinji a finger. He glared down at the readied potatoes, threw them into the pan and moved on to the next item. The anger was forcing his heartbeat to double, the irrational possessiveness he despised crawled back into his awareness, forcing the boy to grind his teeth and clench his hands into fists.

"Do you want to kiss? You know, mashing lips together. Ugh! I should've never kissed to pass the time! Why didn't you hold me?! Why are you in here?! You won't do anything! You won't even hold me! Why can't you do anything?!"

Glaring at the door, he felt his hand grab the knife and violently stab it on the cutting board. I don't know, maybe the fact that you never did anything short of insulting me had me a little bit confused about what you wanted! No? No chance of that? Of course not, right, because it's always Shinji, it's always me. I'm the good-for-nothing who never acted on anything. I was the scared little brat who didn't dare to reach out because I was so fucking scared. I was the one- Shinji removed the blade from the wood, feeling his midsection cry out in outrage. "What's the point, anymore?" He whispered to the living room. "You reap what you sow, and I was too much of a little bitch to sow anything, so I reap nothing. I get nothing."

He stared at the blade, and wondered how even after shredding his own oblique while taking out the serrated knife, he had managed to do it well enough to survive. The smug look on that blonde bastard's face as his arm hung loosely from Asuka's shoulder flashed again, and Shinji stabbed the knife back into the board. He wondered how long it would take him to turn that perfectly white skin purple under a rear naked choke.

Then the absurdity of his owns urges crashed, and he kept cutting, kept working, as habit dictated. "That's right, I get nothing." He sliced the cut potato in half, and sighed. "I am nothing."

"I don't care."

Keeping her back pressed against the door, Asuka tried not to scream in pure, unbidden rage and despair. Her night had been more than a little uncomfortable with her own damn conscience ensuring she did not forget the Great Second Child was spoiled goods now, used, broken in, and that Shinji was most certainly aware of it. The very reason behind the stupid guilt and sense of betrayal was even more ridiculous in her mind. Asuka breathed in deeply, clutched the towel and began to undress.

"I don't care."

Well then good, you shouldn't, she reprimanded mentally, feeling a queer agony stifle through her chest. It's not like it's a big deal, I just slept in your bed, and your scent helped me sleep better than ever and I thought that maybe mine would help you too but I guess that's just stupid isn't it. Standing naked before the tub, Asuka let it fill slowly and sat on the edge, glaring at the water. It's not like this is anything but a stupid little schoolgirl crush I developed on literally the only other male in my vicinity, and it shouldn't bother me at all. I'm here to save my fellow pilot, my… she paused, glare turning uncertain for a fraction of a second. My friend… I… Does he even need me as a friend?

The name Krista was officially and very evidently on her shit list now, right next to Ikari Gendou, her mother, Kaji and the EVA Series. Wrestle together, yeah right. I bet she's kissed him, if she's into the bi stuff and whatnot, I bet she just took what she wanted without even asking. Her fist clenched and the glare returned full force. I bet she gives him drugs, and booze, I'm sure of it, she encourages it, the addiction in him. There was absolutely no data to support the thoughts going through her mind and Asuka didn't care one bit, she was so infuriated that the red dog was trembling in its little red house, too scared to bark out. Even Kyoko knew better than to approach her. You go have drinks together, do you?! Instead of testing the water's temperature she sunk her fist into it. I bet you she gets you into fights, doesn't she? That little lesbian bitch, Krista?! Huh?! Krista?! Why does she get to kiss you, huh? Why does she get you to hold her?! Why?!

She was panting, fists raised and feet half in the tub, and water had sprinkled just about every surface of the small bathroom. Her fists unclenched, rationality returned, and Asuka ever so slowly sat back down on the tub and hugged her knees. "She was here," muttered the young doctor. The water was a tad too cold, but she found herself uncaring. "She's been here. You weren't. You were with them, or by yourself, but you weren't here. And now look at what's happened…" She chuckled, and allowed a pair of tears to escape. "You forsake this Baka for a little bit and he turns into a wheeling tornado of self-destruction… starts hanging out with the wrong crowds, messing around with unworthy bitches…"

Not that you haven't been with your share of unworthy men, Asuka. Let's not lie to ourselves again, remember that deal? A newfound glare blossomed in her features; she had sworn not do many things ever again. "One thing is true, though," she mumbled, reaching for the soap. "I think it's a little bit more than a schoolgirl crush." I want to hug him, and I want him to hug me. I want… The way he had just spoken with her, so honest and respectful, demonstrating humbleness she was never to possess had just increased her wish to stay. The drugs and his addiction for them flashed momentarily in her mind, but she discarded the thought. He was handsome, now. Strong willed, intelligent, refined, and something told her he could behave like a true gentleman if he ever so wished to. At the cost of most of his sanity, the hardships of Shinji's life had awoken a strength in him, one she found extraordinaire, worth the study risk, and attractive. She could grow further than ever before, and he could at last be rid of the penance which anchored him, they could compliment one another.

"I don't care."

"What happened to your hand?"

"Where are you sleeping?"

Once she was done washing, Asuka rose with a newfound sense of freshness, and reinvigorated to pursue her desire. It was a simple one, in retrospect to all the things she had wished for as a child, and never obtained. All she wanted was to have her Shinji back, and to have him stand next her healthy and strong. She had prepared for years to pursue her task, and no pretentious little wrestler/slut was to stand in her way. Especially one named Krista of all things.

What a stupid fucking name, she snarled, trying to imagine just how the harlot would look like in real life, and remembering with a snide grin that Misato could provide a vast library of images regarding Shinji's acquaintances in a heartbeat. Krista. You better stay ten steps the fuck away from my Shinji before I snap you in half, you and any other bitch with delusions of grandeur. You don't know what he's been through; you don't know the first thing about it.

She dressed and prepared, making sure to accentuate her God-given attributes and taking special care to make her locks as lustrous and supple to the touch as humanly possible. Once, four years ago she had cut her hair down to almost nothing, and it did not sit well with her at all. Shinji liked her hair, and he liked it long and shiny. The boy had never spoken the words himself, but it was a truth she felt was written in her heart; just like how she knew, just knew how horrible he had felt during the last few years. They were in many mirror images of each other, only having taken a different approach in their form of living and the way they pushed people away. Precisely due to this similarity she felt herself drawn to him, and despite not having been there, could emphasize with him better than any other person on the planet.

"All the Baka's done is doing a sad take on my former approach," she told herself. "I've fought against myself for seven years. This is familiar battle ground."

"I don't care."

Yes, yes you do, Baka. I'll show you just how much. The sound of the noose constricting caught the girl's attention just before she exited the bathroom. Kyoko made no appearance, knowing that when Asuka was so determined and angry nothing short of the Apocalypse would stop her, but the horrifying apparition did put in her two cents.

"Oh, he does care, my darling. So very, very much. That is why the time to speak about them… is drawing near. How fun will that be, nicht? Will you cry in front of him, will you beg? Or will you scream out and demand his understanding and forgiveness? I wonder…"

"Yeah, keep wondering." Shinji's visit was to arrive later in the day, and nothing short of the absolute best was expected; she would dash his guests and leave them enamored with her, nothing short of perfection was expected. After all, it was expected that the… lady of the house offered some level of conversation and entertainment. "I've got work to do."

About three hours after his shower and most recent change of bandages, Shinji concluded a suspicion he'd had since the morning; these were not his pills. The visions certainly stopped or at least became less frequent, the tremors in his hands had disappeared, but the anxiety and the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach had not. Being no stranger to rehabilitation and the medicines they used, he clicked his tongue while watching Asuka prepare the mashed potatoes. This isn't methadone, pondered the young former pilot, and gulped down another of Asuka's gummy bears. While harmless in appearance, the little bastards did work wonders on regulating his breathing and reducing the pain of his many injuries. But it does the trick. Glad I always have my emergency stash, though. He popped a Xanax into his mouth and dry-swallowed it. The day had transpired smoothly, with neither part willing to disrupt the relative ease in the air. Shinji's left hand padded the wound on his stomach, thanking Lilith for waterproof apposites; having Asuka shower him of all things would have been the greatest shame of his life yet.

"So, do your dear friends and boss like their mashed potatoes creamy, Baka?" She asked from the kitchen, turning to smirk at him. This he enjoyed; despite trying to hate and reject it, it felt good to interact with her. "How about with generous amounts of butter, hmm?"

"A resounding Yes to both," he answered, returning the smirk despite himself. "You know what the French say; there's no such thing as too much butter."

The redhead turned back to the stove, ponytail jumping behind and catching Shinji's attention yet again. Was her hair extraordinarily shiny that day? "Ah, certainement, Môsieur Idiot," the girl innocently let a whole spoonful fall into the mix, added a bit of milk and nutmeg and set about giving the perfect consistency to the puree. "I bet you're loving this, aren't you? Having the Great Sohryu Asuka Langley cook and clean for you, right?"

"Oh, absolutely," he answered, laughing with just a hint of his usual malice. "You know I love to be stabbed in this time of the year, it's just so fantastic to watch the days float by in a moving chair while my insides slowly, and painfully stitch back together. I mean, who doesn't love pissing blood and taking thirty minutes to wash and change?"

"Well, I did tell you I could help, but then you gave me that nasty glare and I thought… screw this guy!" She giggled, doubling the strength with which the puree was being mixed. "I mean, it really must suck to be stuck on that chair, but you don't mean to tell me that something about this whole situation doesn't strike you as… unique and extraordinary? Cathartic, even?"

He chuckled, pushing the wheels to circle around the redhead. "Hmm, don't get me wrong. This is fulfilling all sorts of fantasies on levels you can't even begin to comprehend… (cough)… I just wish the complementary knife wounds were not a byproduct of my… blessed situation." You can't really argue or fight when you're down three diazepams and one of those bears, Shinji realized, and took a chance to glance at the red mane caught in the ponytail. God… so beautiful. It's like fire made hair, fire made flesh.

The prick with the suit and the blond hair crossed through his hazed mind, and Shinji imagined Asuka's gorgeous, lustrous locks disarrayed, sweated and clinging to the little shit's chest as she hugged him. He imagined the man holding Asuka by the hair… and then he frowned, and redirected his glare at the door. That's right, you fucking loser. Remember your place. She's here out of pity, out of personal interest. Don't you dare hope for anything more than the pit. The way Asuka turned and winked at him did not help matters at all. Fuck! Stop that! Stop… being beautiful, damn it!

"And me wearing a bikini would help… hmm… fulfill any others you might have?" She secretly thanked the fact that Shinji was slightly medicated at the moment, and relished in the way his cheeks and face turned crimson. I think… he still likes me, a little bit. "Or would it help more if I just wear the apron?"

"Ugh, I…" Shinji cursed himself, wishing for a beer, and wheeled himself a safe distance away. "You're killing me, here."

"I bet I am," she winked again and turned back to her creation, proudly exposing the result to the injured youth. "Now, feast your eyes on perfection! Look at this! Isn't this the creamiest Kartoffelnpuree you've ever seen, Baka?" She offered a spoonful, which he took with some level of apprehension.

After making sure his mouth would not combust by the heat, Shinji tasted, and nodded. "Well, I'll be damned," he said. "It's pretty good. Might need a little bit more nutmeg, though."

"Might need a little bit of nutmeg, though," Asuka mocked him, turning to add the requested spice. "Whatever, Third. Anyway, are you sure you can cook that tuna by yourself? I wouldn't want you to burn down your nice little kitchen."

"I think I'm perfectly able of turning a piece of meat up and down, thank you very much," he was about to head to the kitchen when the bell rang, eliciting a groan out of him and a smirk out the redhead. She had dressed both Shinji and herself in semi-formal attires after having to wait half an hour for the injured youth to maneuver on his own. He wore a very elegant blue polo shirt she had picked up for him, and about the only pair of pants she had found with no holes, lacerations or food stains of any kind. The redhead, for her part, had chosen a long dress which accentuated her curves and showed just enough skin to turn anyone into a stuttering mess.

"Want me to get it?" She asked, honest excitement running through her veins. These were Shinji's peers, people who knew and interacted with him on a daily basis. These were invaluable sources of information. "You were looking a little sleepy just now."

"Nah, I'll get it," dismissing the apparent concern for his increasing exhaustion courtesy of the thrice-damned serum, Shinji pushed the blasted chair towards the door. "Oh, that reminds me; my co-workers are big fans of yours, like the crazy stalker type, so heads up," He paused by the door. "You might want to cover your ears."

"Eh?" Asuka offered, taken aback. "Cover my ears? Why would I-" The door hissed open.

"MAKE WAY FOR THE HERO OF TOKYO!"

The bark was so spontaneous, so loud and so stifling in the small house that Asuka's hands did fly over to her ears. In all her years the girl had scarcely found anyone who could match her as far as decibels went, but this… bulk of a man making his way through the door certainly was a contender.

A large, heavy hand came to rest on Shinji's shoulder with much more finesse than Asuka had expected; she stole glances of the exchange through the small hallway connecting the entrance and the kitchen/living room, still not willing to make an appearance. Let the Baka enjoy his friends for a bit before they go blind with your greatness, Sohryu. She smirked, popping the third of a Star of Death into her mouth.

"Boy, oh boy!" The man slapped Shinji lightly on his back, twice, then made way for two petite looking females to enter. "Look at him, Kodame, Akiko. This guy right here, this guy…" The man, apparently unaware that Shinji detested close contact, rubbed the young man's head as though he were a supple dog, which only served to make Shinji glare up at his boss. "This guy is incredible! That's twice you've saved someone, Shinji, twice! Oh, of you could have seen the amount of letters and mementos we've been receiving. My head chef, the Hero!"

"We brought some of them for you to read," The one called Kodame provided whilst signaling to a considerably hefty plastic bag full of small envelopes, get-well cards and what she assumed to be chocolates or sweets of some sort. "I swear to God, Shinji, I've never seen so much blood in my life! I honestly, like, thought you were gonna die! We were so scared!"

The young man in question scratched his head, blissfully thankful that his boss's greasy hand had left his locks. "Sorry about that, everyone. I wasn't planning on getting stabbed on my way home or anything of the sort, trust me."

The second girl, one she supposed was Akiko, turned out to be the most stereotypical Japanese young woman Asuka had seen in recent years. About nineteen to twenty years of age, perfectly white skin, black hair cut down in that strange bowl form the people of that country seemed to prefer, and to top it all off, the goofy, exeedingly respectful way of behavior. My sweet God, and I thought Rei was boring. Rei, if you're out there somewhere, allow me to apologize. She watched the girl bounce off with her feet and hands together, smiling up at Shinji with just the faintest of blushes on her cheeks. I have truly, truly found Wondergirl now.

"Shinji-san, you should not joke about that!" The smaller youth reprimanded after Shinji had offered his best version of a bow and received a full one in return. "I read in the paper that your lung and stomach were affected! Are you in… are you in pain?"

Little Akiko, pain is my life, he thought with a sense of detached amusement. "Yeah, they sting when I move too quickly or when I get up to the bathroom, but the doc said I'd be able to take a few steps tomorrow."

"Don't you go pushing yourself like last time, you hear?" The comment managed to raise Asuka's eyebrow in suspicion. "Crap, your arm was in a cast and you were trying to cook! Just three days after they released you! Don't be doing any stupid things like that this time around! Now, here's something that'll get you in the mood!" The large man produced two bottles of wine from the small backpack he carried, belly dancing as he laughed and presented his gift to Shinji. "Look at that, huh? Trivento, one of the very best. Thank You that the seasons finally settled again or we'd never have the chance to taste this beauty. Glorious, I tell you, it's glorious!"

The former Third Child took a hold of the bottle, making both his boss and the female entourage beam in happiness. "Hmm, a very nice year," Shinji examined the bottle and smiled. "This will do perfectly with dessert. Thank you, Sukiya –san. Thank you very much for coming as well, Akiko, Kodame."

"Ah, don't mention it, hero! Here, I brought a nice little Savignon Blanc for the tuna, and a good old Marquez de Cáceres, a Merlot. Should go nicely with the food." The bottles clacked noisily in the man's bag.

"Yeah, Shinji! Here," The large ammount of envelopes was unceremoniously dumped on Shinji's lap. "Now you can deal with all this damn love mail yourself. Jeez, you have a pretty strong fanbase, you know."

"The girl from your gym showed up!" Akiko added as the three of them made their way to the living room. "She kind of threatened us, but we know she's not all there so we got her some Ramen and she was on her way!" Shinji pushed himself over to the table and set the wine bottle down while depositing the bag full of letters on the couch.

"Yeah, sorry about that, guys," He shrugged, scratching a faint itch on his left arm and feeling the wound in his stomach burn. "I kinda promised her we'd spar on the day after my birthday, and you know how she gets."

"Yeah, talk about crazy! I really am happy she settled down, though; that girl is bonkers. Now, great Host, are you even allowed to drink at the moment?"

Shinji stiffened and looked away nervously. "Ah… well, about that. I think I'm not really all-"

"A glass of red wine or two wouldn't hurt. It'd relax his muscles and allow a better blood flow, which in turn would be beneficial to his healing." Four pair of eyes blinked and redirected where Asuka stood with a seagreen dress adorned by patters which resembled waves, hair down, and a pair of tanzanite earrings which made her blue eyes sparkle. "Hi! I'm Sohryu Asuka Langley. Charmed, huh?"

Shinji sighed in dejection, and covered his ears. Here it comes, any second now…

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKK!"

Even the redhead herself blinked and retreated half a step when both the girls and the heavy man who was Shinji's boss squealed like twelve-year-olds who had just seen their favorite teen singer. Both waitresses reduced the space between them and her in a second, disregarding Shinji's injured state entirely, and started bombarding her with questions as they fidgeted, jumped in place and stared with star-struck eyes at the famous Second Child.

"Oh my God it was true what I saw in the paper the other day, she did come! Look, Akiko, look, it's… Eeeeeeeekk! It's Madam Sohryu!"

Madam Sohryu? Asuka raised a concerned, questioning gaze to Shinji, who simply looked the other way and set about cooking the tuna. The damn idiot was waiting on this! "Ah… yeah, well, yes, I'm currently in Japan, as is… clear… right now."

The girl's squealed so loud this time that Asuka visibly cringed, and almost jumped out of her skin when Shinji's boss pushed his face in between them. "Let me just say, it is an incredible honor to meet you in person, Madam Sohryu! I… I… I never expected to see you, here of all places! What an incredible day! May I ask for an autograph? Oh, and if it's not too much trouble, a picture for my little daughter? She'd be so delighted! Oh, my dear! Shinji, you old dog! Why didn't you tell us you had the Great Sohryu Asuka Langley in your house?!"

Before Shinji could respond, another barrage assaulted the redhead's ear in the form of the so called Akiko. "Eeeek! Miss Sohryu, you are my hero! Elite pilot since you were ten, valedictorian of your university, you've even published whole articles on biology and the improvement of modern methods!"

"Ah…" the young doctor's eyes widened even more, feeling very uncomfortable with the reduced distance the seemingly respectful girl had opted to speak to her from. "You have to remain active, you know?" Letting the rehearsed answers flow, Asuka entertained Shinji's guests. "You can't just shut yourself down after you achieve one goal! The more you move forward, the more things you will achieve! So yeah, of course, I have a few things to say about those age-old methods they push down your throat in medical school! Anyway, do you know Shinji well?"

Shinji' eyes whipped back to her, and the redhead smiled broadly. "W-Well," Akiko mustered, still processing that Asuka was indeed standing in front of her. "We've been working in the restaurant for about three years, right Kodame? Right?" The girl shook her partner with vehemence. "Right?!"

"P-Please excuse her," the slightly older female commented, and offered a nervous smile. "We're really big fans, you see. We've been working with Ikari-kun since we got the job! We're roommates, she and I. Um, could I take a picture with you? I hope I'm not intruding too mu-"

The elder man's arms wrapped around the three ladies in one fluid motion, which almost triggered Asuka's defenses and would have forced her to sink the man's ribs deep into his organs, has she not remembered he was, in fact, Shinji's boss. "Now come on here, all of you! Say Cheese!"

"And, and… are you here taking care of him? Of your fellow pilot?" Kodame asked with thirst for gossip evident in her hungered gaze.

"Why, yes," she turned over to smirk at Shinji's back. No reaction whatsoever to the question; he was engrossed in his cooking. "Of course, that's why I'm here! We EVA pilots cannot possibly sit idly while one of us is in great need!"

The last comment earned her a suspicious glance from the restaurant owner, squeals of delight from the newly indoctrinated members of her fan club, and… no reaction from the boy in question. Not so much as a shrug, or a glare, so Asuka huffed and turned back to the guests. After taking about ten pictures with each, answering their bickering, redundant questions about her work and life, painstakingly enduring the man's happy, thunderous voice and being nothing less than the perfect hostess, Shinji called them into the table, and the devouring began.

She ate slowly, carefully, minding to not monopolize the conversation and instead watched with great interest how Shinji interacted. He was charming, indeed, at least the nurses had been right on that regard; he was very polite, like she remembered, but now teased ever so lightly and chuckled, asked about the restaurant's daily activities, details of the girls' personal lives, and listened intently. He spoke with the owner with distanced respect however much the man himself insisted in being informal and familiar with him, and was quick to remind them about the delivery of this or that ingredient in the coming week.

As the former Second Child chewed on the generous, perfectly cooked tuna and let her taste buds be directed to Heaven by the delicate sauce the boy had prepared, she did notice a lack of questions regarding his personal life. The girls and elder gentleman seemed quite adamant on even asking about details related to Shinji's current state, his drug use, or the circumstances in which he had ended up so beaten up. Of course, the newspaper and online media had already made the heroic act circle all over the world, narrating how on the night of his birthday, Ikari Shinji had been prepared to lay down his life to protect an innocent schoolgirl who, above all things, was not even Japanese, and had fought four gang members at once, leaving one with numerous and severe facial fractures, and another one with a cracked skull, dislocated jaw and a knife in the gut.

She wondered if this was how Shinji always cooked, or if he changed the typical menu for something that would accommodate his guests, but she could not be happier for it. Asuka had dreamed about tasting his food again for years, wondering if what she remembered from those days was merely a strange recollection. Seated on Shinji's table, seven years later, she concluded his style had only improved, but flourished and had almost ascended to gourmet cuisine. Hell, he even had smooth jazz playing on the sound system!

"And so," she interjected, taking a sip of wine. Damn, that is a good Malbec if I ever had one, "What sort of food do you serve in the restaurant?" She also took notice of the expert way in which the young man ate despite his injuries, without a single slip of etiquette; he was elegant, refined, just like the dishes he had prepared.

"Well, I used to have a big food chain back in the day," Sukiya elaborated, and bit down on a large piece of fish, pausing to close his eyes in delight. "Hmmm, and that's why you're getting a raise, Ikari. Damn! Anyway, after Second Impact sales kind of crashed, so I sold out and got myself a nice little manageable building in Tokyo 02, and guess what!? It survived Third Impact, and the huge building my competition had built crashed like a house of cards!" He explained, poured more wine to both his and Shinji's cups, and drank. "Now we focus a bit on the traditional side, you know, classic dishes, and I've made a small opening for international cuisine, for which I have to thank your co-pilot, Sohryu-sama! Kampai, Shinji!"

The brown-haired youth sniggered goodheartedly and raised his own glass. "Kampai, Sukiya-san, Akiko, Kodame," he dipped his head her way, with that relaxed, small smile making his entire features look alive, distinguished and... cute. "Asuka." She blushed, gulping and looking away, and took a sip of wine. It had not gone unnoticed by her that Shinji had swallowed about two Valiums and a Xanax throughout the day, and would address the matter after lunch, but for the time of being she allowed herself to enjoy Shinji 'the gentleman'.

The afternoon flowed nicely along with the dishes; before anyone realized it all three bottles and a fresh one Shinji had offered were all but gone, they were seated around the young man's living room talking and drinking, with Shinji actually participating and even smiling from time to time. Then, the disastrous question arose, destroying Asuka's mood with sickening ferocity and in the blink of an eye. "So…Sohryu-sama," the one called Akiko slurred, grinning innocently in her direction. "Have you heard any news about Mr. Möritz? You haven't dated in almost two years! Still carrying the flame?"

Almost choking on her wine upon hearing that name mentioned of all things, Asuka took a large gulp and tried to glare a hole through the girl's skull a second afterwards. Kodame elbowed her roommate with enough momentum to push the air out her ribcage. "Akiko!" She reprimanded, mortified. "Sohryu-sama, I am so sorry about this. She doesn't really drink, you see, so maybe the wine got a little too her head… please excuse her…"

Most likely aware of her fiery temper and habit of walking out on interviews at will if the person asking the questions displeased her, Asuka could understand the girl's naked panic. Her eyes, however, were locked on Shinji, and the fact that his pleasant little smile had disappeared under the gloom of a light frown. No, shit, no! NO! Her right hand curled into a fist, but she forced herself to relax. No! I was finally…! He was smiling, damn you!

"I… no. It's no problem," swallowing down the physical need to take one of the empty wine bottles and break it on the girl's perfect little face, Asuka reminded herself she was in Shinji's house, and that his boss was sitting right next to him, alarmed and flustered all the way down to his second chin. Shinji refused to meet her eyes, engrossed in emptying his glass in one go all of the sudden. "We broke up two years ago. I haven't heard from him since. We…" she tried to smile, even when it was clearly false. "We dated for very little, truly. I guess my job and goals always take priority, and I end up not having time for distractions."

"B-(cough)-But then," the enhibriated waitress tried to elaborate despite her friend actively tugging on her dress. "How come you just left everything and came here? Does that mean… oohh…"

"I do believe we have overstayed our welcome, girls," Sukiya seemed to know Shinji to a certain degree, for as soon as the boy chugged the glass and refilled it in one fluid motion, he was on his feet, hands clasped together. "Shinji, you old dog, I love what you've done with the place!" he not so discreetly glared at his workers and signaled for them to rise and say their farewells. "Sohryu-sama, it has truly been a pleasure to meet one of Shinji's old acquaintances, and I know his health is in the very best of hands! Thank you very much for gracing us with your company today. And Shinji!" The man's heavy hand tapped Shinji's right shoulder. "Make sure you heal up good and well, you hear? We'll be expecting you in the restaurant! And treat this incredible lady with nothing but your best behavior!"

"Sukiya-san, you are too kind," Shinji shook the man's hand with a frigid smile and the same friendly tone he had used all evening. "Thank you very much for the visit, it truly brightened my day. I'll be sure to return as soon as I'm physically able." He nodded towards the effectively unconscious Akiko and an apologetic Kodame, bowing his head slightly. "Your company is always a pleasure. Thank you very much for taking the time to come see me."

"L-Let me walk you to the door, everyone," she escaped along with the guests and took notice that Shinji drank the second glass quicker than he'd emptied the first one. She hastily pressed the button a took a large lungful of fresh, crispy night air as the small entourage followed behind.

The elder man wrung his hands together as though extremely worried, his brown eyes darted back and forth and refused to meet Asuka's steady gaze. "I'm sorry about that, Sohryu-sama, she really doesn't drink that often. I hope we didn't spoil the mood of the evening…"

"Nonsense," she answered, and patted the man lightly on the shoulder, to which a content smile manifested in Sukiya. "Shinji had a really great time, I could tell, and I had lots of fun, as well. Thank you for the visit."

"O-Oh… P-Please allow me to invite you to the restaurant! You would be our honored guest! Everything on the house, absolutely anything you want!" Just as the man gestured with his hands and lightened up the small hallway with the strangely jovial nature he displayed, Kodame snuck out a threw a vastly apologetic glance her, to which the redhead responded with a freezing glare, giving the helpless girl a taste of the reason why her colleagues left her very much alone. "Would you accept this offer, Sohryu-sama? Of course, you must be a busy woman! But… if you find yourself hungry, and have the t-"

"I'd love to visit your restaurant," she answered with as much politeness a the swirl of emotions in her chest allowed. "But… I'd like to wait until Shinji recovers, and perhaps… have him cook for me?"

Taken aback by her smooth response, Sukiya struggled for a response. "A-I mean-Ugh… O-Of course, how silly of me! Yes, absolutely! I'm sure Shinji will be delighted with the idea!" Just as he seemed ready to leave, the restaurant owner's body language changed, to Asuka's surprise, and he leaned in to whisper as he offered an open hand in her direction. "Please, take care of him, Sohryu-sama. He has been… very sick… for a very long time. We hold him quite dearly, all of us…" he motioned towards the apartment building, towards the city once she clasped his hand. "He is… our hero, and he suffers. Shinji doesn't like to cause anyone problems or hardships; he just doesn't want to be anybody's burden… and has convinced himself that he doesn't deserve anyone's help. We…" again, the man's eyes drew to the city. "We have committed… atrocities towards this gentle, good man who is our hero, and he had burdened it all by himself. Sohryu-sama," the held her hand with both of his. "I believe in my heart that you are the person to help him stand proud, as he should. I implore you… he is… our beacon."

"I know," was all she said, and patted the joined hands with curt nod. "I know he is a hero, and I know he's in pain. I'll save him, you'll see."

Sukuya nodded, turning to leave. "He still does, you know." He whispered, a few feet away.

"Huh?" Perplexed, Asuka leaned a bit closer. "He does what?"

The man's knowing eyes softened on her frame as his head turned a bit in her direction. "He still loves you. Always has, always will. Even a blind old bat like me can see it."

She had no answer to the statement; nothing short of been rendered speechless for the first time in her life, by a complete stranger of all things. The night air caressed her shoulders and made her hair sway, her eyes remained locked on the large retreating back until it was no longer visible, lost in thought. He… what? He… that's impossible. We barely even know each other, we barely even- no… we know everything about each other, at least every little thing until Third Impact. She turned to stare at the city. I looked into his soul, and I saw myself. Only… only warm, not like me, so warm… so close... so terrifying…

"Hey!" Came the ragged yell from inside the house. "Mind closing the door, please? You can stay out and freeze if you want, but I'm pretty done with that cold night air, myself!" And there goes the moment, she pouted, frowned, and turned back to the house.

"Geez, who would've thought that with the generous amount of wine you've been drinking, you feel anything under your neck right now," she commented, noticing that Shinji's glass was empty and sitting on the kitchen while the boy himself attempted to maneuver the dirty dishes into the sink. "God, Shinji, can you for once in your life leave things to me? How clean was the house when you first got here, huh?"

"It was spotless," Shinji said, slurring just a tiny bit. "I'm aware you can do all this, I just like doing it. I hate being stuck in this stupid chair." He seemed to have forgotten the dreadful comment of his co-worker, to Asuka's satisfaction, and seemed to be working a good buzz between the bear she'd given him before lunch began, the pills he had chugged and the wine. "Besides, it's not like I'm making sudden movements."

"You better not," she commented, and from one moment to the other she was washing the dishes while Shinji handed them over, hummed to himself and rolled here and there with the wheelchair he detested, stopping only to maneuver back if there was no room for him to get through. A very uncomfortable, stifiling silence fell upon them, and both the statement Shinji's boss had made and Akiko's question floated incessantly in her brain. Finally, as the young man passed her the last plate with an air of absolute nonchalance, she spoke. "It didn't mean anything."

"Hmm?" Shinji turned back, blinking. "I'm sorry?"

"That guy, Möritz, it didn't mean anything." She kept her gaze focused on cleansing and washing the plate, shoulders stiff and uncooperative. "We really only dated a couple of weeks, and that was that. It… I wasn't… it was nothing."

"I suppose that Möritz guy would be sad to hear it," he answered smoothly, with the strangely charming tone he had used all evening dancing off his tongue. "You shouldn't be so hard on him. But then again, it's not my business."

"What do you mean?" She was asking before even realizing it.

"Exactly what you heard, Frau Doctor," the tone of voice became strained, forced, and Asuka noticed almost instantly. "You have a life, an independent life. You're free to date and drink and smoke and go out and study and do all the great things that Sohryu Asuka Langley does. It's none of my business, never was in the first place."

She placed the last dish on the drier, hands falling onto the sink in despair. Indifference. The same weapon she had so mercilessly used during their time together after Third Impact, the weapon she had hurled his way in Shinji's most desperate time of need. He was being indifferent, acting as though it truly mattered not to him who she dated, or if she dated at all. "I… well, I thought, I just wanted to say that… t-to anyone," quickly avoiding leaving herself vulnerable before a very unstable Shinji, Asuka found herself confessing something she had only ever told the corpse of her mother. "None of them meant a damn thing, not one of them. Not Möritz, not that idiot Fabio, not… not any of them. I wanted to say that."

Daring a sideway glance at the boy in question, Asuka suppressed a shudder when she saw him glaring deeply at the place on his couch where Akiko had preferred to sit. "I see," he said after a few moments, jaw clenched. "I'm sorry to hear you haven't been able to find… a loving partner who is worthy of you," for a fleeting moment, Asuka saw Shinji stand and slam the wall violently in her mind's eye; the image was so strong she had to blink twice to ensure herself he was still seated in the wheelchair. "Do you need to change my bandages again? You did so after I showered, and I'm a bit tired. That serum gets me dizzy."

"Shinji…" she turned to where he sat feeling as if a rock was weighing her body down. He was pretending indifference, and failing in a most absolute fashion with his eyes narrowed, frown obscured by his hair, and left hand holding onto the wheel with brutal force. "I didn't mean to make your friends uncomfortable, okay? She just asked me, and … I thought you had the right to kn-"

"They're not my friends." He interrupted dryly. His hand relaxed, but the frown deepened. "Sukuya-san is my boss; the girls are waitresses in the restaurant where I work, nothing more. We're not friends."

"And what about that Krista girl?" Asuka rebuqued with honest curiosity.

"Gym partner," Shinji shrugged.

"And the guy who messaged you last night? That guy from what I assume to be your gym?"

"My trainer, Jackson-san." He pushed the chair in his room's direction. "I don't have any friends. Not any that I know of."

"What about Touji? And Kensuke?" Asuka paused, bit her lip and jumped into the void. "What about Hikari?"

Shinji paused, turned the chair in her direction and met her eyes. There was no anger obscuring his gaze, she noted, but something far more familiar, and something she decided looked far worse on his matured face than anything else. Defeat, she realized. Complete, total defeat.

"I broke Touji's jaw after he cheated on Hikari last year, Asuka," Shinji answered, sounding… regretful, if only a tad, for the first time since she had arrived. "Kensuke… we kind of drifted apart some years ago, when he joined the JSDF. And Hikari… she doesn't want anything to do with me, and I don't blame her." He gave her a melancholic smile, expression devoid of any defenses or falsehood. "I don't have any friends, Asuka. For about seven years, I thought my only friend were you," his eyes drifted to the spot on his thigh where the wound was. "But then again, I've always been an idiot. Thanks for… everything today, really. You made my guests feel more at home than I ever could, and I am grateful. I think I'll turn in, now."

"I know you took some pills," she tried in a lame attempt to keep him from leaving. "I know, some Valiums and a Xanax, but… it's okay. You're healing, I need your body to be as relaxed as it can be," she fidgeted, uncomfortable. Shinji was no longer looking at her. "I won't allow it tomorrow, though."

"Then we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"He still loves you. Always has, always will."

"Asuka," the shrink's voice said with eternal patience. "I understand you're afraid to allow yourself the slightest vulnerability, and I understand why. I fear, however, that in life we must many times risk the danger of being hurt, or betrayed, or lied to, in our own pursuit for inner peace, and happiness. The only thing you have to ask yourself is… is that person worth the risk?"

Shinji was about to enter his bedroom.

"They weren't you."

He stopped abruptly, head turning in her direction. "What? Who?"

"All of them," she clarified, refusing to avoid her eyes from his and letting him see the sincerity behind her words. If he wanted to insult or belittle her afterwards, she could take it. "Any of them, you pick. None of them was you, and because of that…" she paused, and gave Shinji a sad smile. "They weren't enough."

He stared at her, wide-eyed, paralyzed, barely even breathing and with his mouth slightly agape. "Wha… ho-you…" he blinked, shaking his head as something akin to desperation and overwhelming despair fell on him. "What do you… what?"

"They weren't you," she repeated, and crossed her arms. "I know it's a stupid thing, but it's the truth. I don't want any of them, I never did." I only wanted you, and it terrified the living shit out of me, so I ran. "So…" she sighed and broke eye contact, cerulean orbs turning to her right hand, where the scar had looked back for over a year. "What's up with this Krista? Is she… really just your gym partner? It's not like it's my business," she was quick to add. "It's… I want to know. You don't have to answer."

Shinji returned her sad smile with one of pure hopelessness. With a shake of his head, he turned away. "She's not you." He pushed himself into the room, and once inside made no major effort to close the door other than a half-hearted push. "Good night, Asuka. I'll see you tomorrow."

She stayed near the table for a few minutes, and even closed her eyes to better perceive Shinji's movements inside the room. Regardless of the calm, collected tone of voice he had used and the cold, defeated expression, Asuka had sensed animosity, anger and rage beyond her own urges. The image of him getting up from the wheelchair and bashing his own wall remained locked in her brain. According to Misato, when his anger became uncontrollable, Shinji would drink and do cocaine, get himself into street fights and get himself hurt.

The door was slightly ajar, with just enough space for her eye to see his drawer, mirror and hear some form of incessant mumbling. She tiptoed as quietly as possible with the careful steps training had drilled into her, and once near the door, controlled her breathing to an almost imperceptible sigh and dared a single celurean orb to inspect the bedroom. Surprised to find no broken glass, no overturned furniture nor any other signs of violence, she dared a sideway glance and noticed Shinji had a very heavy looking hand strengthener on his right hold, and was squeezing it without reprieve as he seethed in the wheelchair, snarling into his own window. He kept easily bending the metallic rings until his ire grew impossible to channel, so he threw the innocent object against a wall.

Coke, his brain urged, arms shaking. I need some coke. A couple of lines, some drinks, and then… He pushed the hated chair in the drawer's direction, positevily salivating at the thought of taking a few lines. The drowsiness from the serum's effect was sure to evaporate, his sharp tongue and keen instincts would return, and he'd have the energy to... to… To what? Have somebody kick me in the stomach and puke out blood from my oh so powerful fucking wheelchair?

Opening the drawer with grim determination, Shinji scouted through his socks and extracted a small bag filled with the white substance. This is that Möritz piece of shit, his mind snarled, clutching the bag. This is that latin shit, this is that Nakamura asshole. Take it in; poison yourself with it like you always do. His hand was shaking, cobalt eyes burning into the small bag; however much he wanted, needed to take a few lines, some invisible force was holding him back. Just a little bit, and it'll be like it always is. Just a little bit…

And so he glared at the bag, veins bulging in his forearm, faintly aware of the eye watching him from afar.

She stood by the door whilst he glared at the white substance with endless hatred and envy, heart constricting in her chest. If he used… she'd have to stop him. That drug would make him aggressive, to be sure, would make him want to move and hurt himself in the process. I… I'm scared. She realized; Shinji was strong indeed, but he was injured, very injured. She was frightened of watching him hurt, of having to hurt him to keep him contained. She didn't want that, the very idea of hurting him made her sick. "Don't…" she whispered inaudibly, clutching the door's handle. "Don't… Shinji…"

He wanted it; so very badly he wanted it. He'd done so before, the day he had watched them in the cover of that magazine during the morning run, he had snorted until his mind was numb, gotten himself drunk, snorted some more and slammed some asshole's face against the pavement after knocking him out. It was there, in his hand, more than half an ounce of it; if his body failed to move, then perhaps it could overdose and the pain that cut him more deeply than the gash in his fucking stomach would dispel at long last.

More than anything, however, he wished to have that snotty little blonde brat with his height, and his perfect musculature in front of him, if only to turn that perfect little frame into minced meat and bloodied remains. "They weren't you." Shinji snarled, and threw the bag back into his drawer, closing it with savagery and making the wounds burn in the process. He produced the bottle of methadone instead, retrieved three pills and chewed on them, washing away the bitter flavor with water.

"Yeah, it's a good thing they weren't me," he grumbled. His right hand came to pinch the bridge of his nose as Shinji forced his eyes shut and bit the inside of both cheeks. "I'm nothing. Nothing. That's what I can offer her. Nothing. She deserves the very best... not the lowest of the low."

For once in two years the voices were silent, but the pain in his chest did not even allow Shinji to realize it. There he sat for what felt like hours until he began nodding off and the images of Asuka's former lover stopped flashing through his head. Hissing with every step and groaning to himself, Shinji took off the pants and lay down on the bed; he breathed in deep. Asuka's scent.

The boy in chains trembled in utter terror. Sure, he was adamant on protecting Asuka, her integrity and memory, but shook life a leaf at the thought of taking a step forward, on in his case, pushing himself a bit forward. It's better this way, the boy mumbled, hugging the shackles to himself. This way we can't hurt her, and she can be happy. It's for the best. It's always been for the best if we're far from her.

Then, Shinji asked in return, wishing to be able to drink something more than three meager glasses of wine. Why the hell do I not want to be away from her, anymore? Why do I want to… hold her? Why does holding her sound better than… his eyes drifted to the drawer. What the hell is going on with me? I am really going crazy again, aren't I, Mother?

Silence. Nothing but the gentle hum of his own breathing came to answer, and it dawned on Shinji that a day, a full day had passed without him seeing or hearing his mother somewhere. The silence was suddenly too stifling, he awaited the creaking of bones and the smell of decomposition with paranoia corroding his altered state of mind, yet no such sounds emanated from his bathroom, roof or floor. Only the light aroma of fruits, woman, sweat, salt, and what he assumed was what home smelt like.

Mother?

He did see his mother, in his dreams, and as always, she elicited a scream from him.

The next morning, however, just as he was about to lift his body and let out a howl of demented sorrow, Shinji found himself anchored to bed. Once he managed to stop from hyperventilating and hissing in pain, and once the sight of the dead world all around him faded, the young man discovered he could barely feel his right arm at all, and turned.

Asuka lay next to him, fast asleep, holding onto his arm with ferocity while her head was cradled on his shoulder. She was barely on the mattress at all, and had anchored herself to him in such a way that even if he were to move, she would be the one to fall down. His left hand lifted with every intention of shaking her and demanding an explanation at once, but then the girl shifted in her sleep, nudging his one useful arm with her head.

"Baka…" she whispered, and to Shinji's shock, a small tear fell down her cheek. "Baka… Shinji…"

Sober, disarmed beyond words, aching with life-threatening wounds and at a complete loss of what to do, the boy's body reacted on instinct, and despite the entire wounded side of him curling in blinding agony, Shinji's left hand shot up, and brushed a few strands off Asuka's face. She truly was beautiful. "Shhh…" he cooed, wiping away the moisture with a scarred thumb. "Shhh… it's okay. Here, come on, shhh, just a little, come on…" He coerced the unconscious redhead to move just a tad closer, and when one of her hands uncoiled from his arms and lay on his chest, seeking for something, he held onto it with his own, and pressed them both to the pit of his stomach, mere inches away from his stomach wound. "Sleep, Asuka… rest… shh…"

He had no clue of what hour it was since the clock was currently being blocked by a mass of red locks, but it was still dark. Is this a dream? A nightmare? Did I die in my sleep?

No, my sweet boy, you did not.

Ikari Yui rested on his doorframe, putrid smile ever present, green eyes gleaming in the dark. Isn't this a nice little scene? How long until you make her relapse, I wonder? You know you will, Shinji-kun. That is all you are, a walking disease, my son. We will hurt her, all of us, in the end.

You will not touch a strand of hair on her head, he commanded, forcing the tidal wave of screams to a grinding halt. Nobody will, so long as she is here. I will blow my brains out the second I think I'll do otherwise, and then where will you go, Mother? That's right, straight down to Lilith's mouth, along with me. He held onto the girl's hand and felt a strange sense of protectiveness flare in his half-dead heart. Nobody was allowed to hurt Asuka, not while she was in his vicinity. It mattered not if she left the following day, or a month or three. She was off limits, even to him.

Oh, darling you are hilarious, the apparition turned its back and headed for the kitchen, disappearing. When have you ever been able to protect anyone or anything, ever? Even from yourself?

He refused to answer, knowing well Asuka had most likely sleepwalked into his room. Still, Shinji had dreamed for this moment, awake, asleep, on drugs and sober on a nigh infinite number of times, and despite the little brat rattling in his little cage and crying out in outrage, for once in his life, he refused to listen to both the junkie, his mother, and the brat.

Asuka was on his bed, clutching his arm. Nothing else in the world held any interest to him.

"They weren't you."

"No," he mumbled, refusing to fall back asleep and determined to engrave the memory into his fading brain. For a brief moment, just shy of a heartbeat, he felt the endless envy and rage be justified at last, and clutched Asuka's hand a bit tighter. "They weren't..."

TBC…

Inspirational Music: Systematic Chaos (album), A Dramatic Turn of Events (album)- Dream Theater; Seventh Son of a Seventh Son (album), Life after Death (Live album) – Iron Maiden, Bad Company – Five Finger Death Punch, Bagpipes from Bagdhad, Fast Lane, Venom, Mockingbird- Eminem, Forget to Remember, Happy- Mudvayne, Nobody Praying for Me - Seether.

AN: And another one bites the dust! Damn! Yeah, me like this. Kinda romantic fic, if ya ask me. It lets itself be written, if that says anything. Lots of fluff! Take the fluff, love the fluff, be the fluff. Just don't get used to it. Anyway, the song Bagpipes from Bagdad is a diss at Mariah Kerry, Em's ex, and there's plenty of stuff being said about him wanting her back, and then saying fuck it let the next guy deal with it, and it's an overall jolly song, hence the jolly ambient of the chapter. I focused a bit on how our two main characters react to the reality that they've been apart for many years, and in those years they've done…(cough)… naughty things. With other people. That is not them. Okay, you get the point.

plot's advancing nicely, and quickly enough, I hope. I'll work on Asuka's POV of the night in the next chappie's introduction. Lots of maturity being thrown from both sides, huh? How come?! Well… we'll have to wait and see... and will things stay so happy-go-lucky? Nothing ever does, sadly, with these two. Add drug addiction to the mix, and... yeah...

Next is Hello! Hello! Allow me to introduce myself! My name is… Jealousy! So nice to meet you! It's been a long time, sorry I have been away so long! My name is… Jealousy! I didn't meant to leave you!

Darkness is coming… unlike Winter in GOT, which… well… disappointment. Anyway. Hope you're enjoying this so far!

PEACE.