[Fics] In the Company of Ashes and other stories

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shelter
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[Fics] In the Company of Ashes and other stories

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Postby shelter » Tue Sep 15, 2015 10:37 pm

Hello Evageeks,

I've been lurking here for a long time ever since my last brush with Evangelion fanfiction. It's been 2 years since I've posted and received a lot of great feedback on the fics I posted here and on FF.net. And I'm really grateful for helping me grow as a writer.

So much so that in between the last round of fics I posted here, I've got published in real-life twice.

But I really miss the community here. So I'm back to complete what I've started: to continue to write short fics & hopefully a longer multi-chaptered fic.

I'm using this thread to consolidate all the Evangelion fanfics I have all over the web and to post my new short stories/ one-shots. I've made my keep as a short story writer and feel that the fandom can do with more of this form.

My ultimate aim is a collection of 10 short stories on various scenarios and characters in Evangelion, including the Rebuild series.

Completed so far: (Updated 16 Sep 2015)

1. Athletics
2. Phantom Pain
3. Cosmonaut
4. Break all the way down
5. Forget



I hope you'll continue to read and offer feedback. And I will try to hang around long enough this time around to do the same for others. Thanks!
Last edited by shelter on Tue Sep 15, 2015 10:56 pm, edited 1 time in total.

shelter
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Joined: Aug 30, 2013
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Postby shelter » Tue Sep 15, 2015 10:51 pm

This is a new fic I wrote, titled Forget (2,796 words).

It's a 2nd POV, post-series fic. A bit of Kensuke/Rei if you want to take it to the extreme.

Because of the 2nd POV, I can't upload this FF.net.

Summary: Post-3rd Impact. A camera, an assignment and a press minder; Aida Kensuke returns to the ruins of Tokyo-3. Sometimes choosing your own version of the past may be the only way to pretend things have changed.


Forget-  SPOILER: Show
Forget

15.09.2015

Rei Ayanami won’t let you see her arms. She wears her starchy NERV uniform with long sleeves, the cuffs locked to her wrists. It’s obvious that she’s sweating. But she insists on walking and carrying the tripod. Nothing your armed escorts say can convince her otherwise.

She leads everyone along the landslide of debris outside the old NERV HQ, now a half-pyramid swarmed by vegetation. Every step she takes loosens the delicate mound of wreckage. She passes underneath concrete pilings dangling like teeth, and walks on fragments of glass. The other photographer has fallen behind. You struggle to balance your equipment amidst the rubble. You think: she has no idea how to conduct a press trip.

After a clambering up what looks like a flattened staircase, she sets your tripod down on a ledge. She asks you to come forward.

From this close the structure looks nothing like you remember: a shiny triangle beaming in the sunlight. The water-stained walls warp inwards. Rusty bullet casings dot the ground. Everything else has been mummified by fire.

“Look down there,” she says.

Below lies a great vault of darkness. In the poor light you can see a shaft extending thousands of metres below your feet. Straight-cut rock rings the hole, as if something punched through from below in one single motion.

“Is this –?”

“Yes.”

“Where they kept –?”

“Yes.”

You set up the flash and assemble the camera. You take several shots of the yawning hole with its sides illuminated for depth. It looks more dramatic when you add the parallelograms of sunshine filtering through the damaged roof. A minute later, the escorts say the other guy has given up.

“Leave him,” Rei orders.

You try to get a closer shot. When you inch closer to the edge, the ledge beneath bleeds sand, breaks and gives out. For one moment, your left foot hangs in the air without anything underneath. Your first instinct is to save your camera – but you’re falling and the entire tripod tips towards the chasm. Your butt hits the ledge – you slip – but something grabs to by the collar of your shirt –

You look up to see Rei. She hauls you safety with one arm.

Your camera and tripod are intact, held in your right hand. Heart hammering, clothes spoiled by dust, you’ve cut your thumb on something sharp.

“Shit,” you say.

“That’s not a good way to say thanks.”

She secures her sleeve cuffs, and you catch a tantalising glimpse of something red twisted around her wrist.

“No. I mean – Thanks for saving my life.”

“Watch your step.”

“Yes –”

“I can’t risk the outcome of this press trip with someone dying.”


---


During this short time back at NERV on assignment, you’ve learnt all over again not to expect anything when engaging Rei in conversation. There are topics she won’t talk about. She will not respond when you ask why she’s your press minder. Neither will she tell you her current designation at NERV.

Then there’s the past. You wonder why she’s still working for the organisation that once used her to unleash the apocalypse, and what exactly took place during that event everyone calls Third Impact.

But since you’re the photojournalist on tour, you ask them anyway.

“You think these questions are appropriate?” she says.

“We’re not strangers, you know.”

“I know.”

She and your escorts have packed all the photography equipment into the truck. In the shadow of the ruins, she distributes pre-packaged bento that pass for dinner in this restricted wilderness. She serves all the members of the press first, then the escorts, before finally helping herself to tea.

The escorts and the other journalists don’t sit with her.

“The some things are best left unsaid.”

“But you’re here. With reporters. All this organised by NERV.”

“I’m here on orders.”

“From whom?”

“People who I trust.”

You try to catch her off-guard. “So you trust the people who used you to start – the end of the world?”

“Third Impact?”

“Whatever you call it.”

“Things change.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“And you?”

“I don’t like to answer personal questions.”

Her stare doesn’t harden. But you know the conversation is over. So you don’t push it. You return your meal: hardened rice and indistinguishable gold dollops of what passes as seafood. Watching you, she sips her tea, and exhales a steaming breath foggy in the twilight.

Later everyone gets transported back to the central base. Because it’s late, NERV arranges overnight accommodation at the nearby barracks. Rei leads you to a bunk. It reminds you of the no-frills beds during all the years of evacuations in Tokyo-3. You think this trip is bringing back more than you expected.

“Goodnight, Mr Aida.”

You want to say something in return. But before you do, her face dissolves into the dark.


---


Something’s missing from your photographs. You’ve covered every feature on the press trip that NERV has been willing to show: war memorials, ruined fortresses, wrecked gun emplacements, recovering natural habitats and even a small community of elderly living within the restricted zone by choice. It tells a positive story – a story of how the criminals responsible for the worst disaster in human history have turned around.

Too positive, you think. Not what you came here to see.

“I’m sending you because you see things that others don’t,” your editor had said. “I want a story that’s not a copy-and-paste NERV press release.”

“So you want me to dig dirt?”

“No. I want you to show our readers what the hell is going on in that zone. Are they still building robots? Plotting the end of world again?”

“You act like they’ll tell me everything.”

“They might. If they know who you are.”

“They probably know already.”

You want to ditch the conspiracy theories and just focus on your photographs. Because they’re good. There’s enough depth to make the images mysterious, just enough light to tease out hints of both trauma and recovery. Some of the photographs, you think, are top-notch abandoned building porn. Plus the exclusive access to the old NERV HQ’s central shaft – the photographs could be your best.

But something’s still missing.

Outside the window of the barracks, clouds scud by the hills. The sky above glows so blue it looks as if it might shatter. Close to picture-perfect. That’s what photographs are for, you think, they tease out the essence of something at one point in time.

When you next see Rei, you have a request.

“I would like to visit that mountain,” you say. You point to the tallest summit visible from the barracks, a peak partly-shrouded in trees like a badly-shaven head.

“What for?”

“I would like to take in as much of the old Tokyo-3 restricted zone as possible.”

“I see.”

Rei looks past you at the landscape interrupted by hills and forests. She gaze settles on something behind you.

“Mount Takanosu is a day’s trip from here by road,” she says.

“So –”

“I can’t guarantee accommodation if we have to stay overnight.”

“Is that –?”

“Pack your things.”


---


There are other questions you want to ask Rei. Not just about NERV or human history. You’ve heard the rumours and know things from what happened all those years ago. So you want to ask: what are you?

“I am whatever you want me to be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The two soldiers driving the truck have their attention fixed on the overgrown forest road. The trip is slow and difficult, with winding switchbacks and turns up mountain passes. The other members of the press have left: nobody wants to spend a day visiting a remote mountain so deep inside the restricted zone.

There’s plenty of time to talk.

“It means people don’t really want to know the answer.”

“I do.”

“Will it help you file your story?”

“Maybe it will help me make sense of Third Impact.”

“Everyone has their own version of the end of the world.”

You remember yours. You remember the rush of evacuation, the pressing claustrophobia of underground caverns swarming with scared people. You recall the earth shattering and the entire shelter coming apart in a hail of rock and wind. A sky so red and bright it looked like an open wound. Thousands of people shouting. Then bright flashes of light, multiple visions of everyone you knew. And finally waking up to a mouthful of sand by the LCL sea halfway across the world.

You ask her what she remembers.

“Third Impact was a long time ago.”

“But you were here. At ground zero when it happened.”

“I can’t remember everything.”

“Then what haven’t you forgotten?”

“The entire place collapsing in on itself. Angels with wings. Stars falling to earth. People screaming.”

“Is it true that you could see everything? Past, present, future?”

“It’s called Instrumentality.”

“It’s just a term.”

“Instrumentality. Divinity. Immortality. There are many terms.”

“Then how can you forget?”

Rei goes quiet. With one arm she holds onto the roof of the truck as it bounds through rough terrain. An undone button exposes a slit of flesh at her wrist. There, you see it again: the discoloured tail of something just out of sight, wrapped around her arm.

“I forget because I’m not a god.”

“Pardon?”

“I forget because I can,” she says.


---


Before the assignment began, you dropped your old friend Shinji Ikari a call. Both of you had been planning a reunion for ages, but your schedule and his never seemed to agree.
“I wouldn’t want to go back there,” he said.

“Not keen in finding out what happened to Hakone, Tokyo-3 and the geofront?”

“No.”

When you told him who would be showing you around, he did not react like you expected him to.

“She’s – different,” he said.

“Everyone changes. It’s been almost 20 years.”

“No. It’s not that. It’s something else.”

“I’ll say hello for you.”

“Thanks.”

“You guys don’t catch up often?”

A sigh flooded the receiver. “She doesn’t seem to remember who I am anymore.”


---


The soldiers leave the truck where the roads ends. The rest of the trip needs to be completed on foot. Rei takes your tripod and a bag of equipment, and heads off in the direction of the mountain. But the soldiers will not go any further. When you ask them why, they say they need to guard the truck. They cast anxious looks at the sun dipping beyond the hills and then at Rei’s retreating form.

Blackened boulders and dead trees clutter the ascent. Wind jabs at your arms, sharp and cold. The trail turns nearly vertical, and the rocky staircase ends in an avalanche of scree. The steps you take begin to lengthen. The straps of your backpack eat into your shoulders. Your calves begin to burn.

Ahead, Rei traverses the sea of fragmented rocks. Her steps don’t falter. A dark shadow of sweat blooms on the back of her uniform. It’s almost as if she doesn’t tire out.

“You’ll need to hurry,” she says.

The altitude is beginning to take a toll on your stamina. But you take a deep breath and follow Rei. You’re not going to give up; you made the request anyway.

After what seems like an hour, you can feel the thick wind scrape your face. A thick mist obscures the last bit of the ascent. You watch as Rei passes into the cloud, not knowing how much more gradient there’ll be. As you follow her, everything turns milky white, indistinct.

Then the fog parts. The slope evens out, leaving a rocky platform: the summit.

From where the summit ends, a floor of clouds begins. The setting sun glazes them with flecks of orange. The grey mounds of ruins dot the landscape. The pyramid you visited yesterday stands like a forlorn marker rising through the trees. Three massive tongues of water – craters from wars long past and Third Impact – look like a collection of diamonds glittering in the dying light. The hills like knuckles frame the scene.

The view is familiar. You’ve been here before a long time ago, with Shinji after you first saw him beat that Angel.

In the space of several decades, everything’s changed. Tokyo-3 is gone; you’re viewing its dead form spread out over hundreds of kilometres.

You capture several frames before it becomes near impossible to shoot. By the time your tripod is up, the light drains away, leaving you in a blueberry-coloured darkness. It’s just you and Rei on the summit.

“The view isn’t too bad,” you say.

“It depends on perspective.”

“You remember Tokyo-3 before the war?”

“Which war? There were so many wars.”

“The one that caused this and Third Impact.”

She sighs. “Some things are just not worth remembering.”

You have an idea. Returning to your equipment, you turn to where the faintest streak of light still glows and try to fit Rei into the frame. Crank up the exposure. Call Rei. And then take the photograph just as she turns to see what’s going on.

The flash bursts like an explosion.


---


Shinji tried to explain things to you.

“You know during Third Impact –”

“What?”

“That end of the world moment. The apocalypse. You know how something happened to all the Evangelion pilots?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well it affected Rei the most.”

“So does that mean she can’t recall anything?”

Another sigh from the other end. “No. That’s not what I mean. It’s – hard to explain. It’s just that she has – gained certain gifts and abilities – from the experience.”

“I don’t really follow.”

“Err – I don’t know how to describe it. But she deals with it in her own special way.”

“Why?”

“Maybe choosing not to remember some things that happened to her is the best way she can pretend she’s normal.”


---


Rei lights a torch and activates a beacon. You imagine that it’s too dark to return to the truck, but she wants to try. The alternative would be risk exposure on the summit until morning light. To die on the mountain just for several photographs is too much even for you.

Before you can start the difficult trek back down, Rei asks to see the photographs you took.

“I don’t have many images of me.”

But the photograph is a disaster. Stale white light overwhelms a quarter of the image. It trails off into a fuzzy darkness. Rei’s half-turned face is like a pale star. Her face is half-turned, red-eyed.

“The light was terrible,” you say.

Rei shrugs. “Not everything is perfect.”

“I’ll keep it.”

“Will you run it in your newspaper?”

“Don’t think my editor will approve it.”

“Then why bother?”

“I’d like to remember that I came back here.”

You want to add “with you” but stop short. You don’t want her to misunderstand. Instead, you press the buttons on your camera and the photo disappears into the folder. Perhaps, like Rei, you’re content to view only some parts of your own past with nostalgia.

Rei nods and goes to pick up your tripod. She rolls one of her sleeves up and hikes it across her shoulder like a rifle. And there, coiling across her arm and flowing into her shoulder, you see scarring so bad and vivid that it looks as if she’s covered in a hundred serpents.

“What is it?”

“Uh – that – No. Nothing.”

“Then let’s go.”

In your head, you imagine how this would make a good photo. But the thought dissolves as you follow Rei’s descent, the first step sending rock crashing down below. There’s nothing but the torch hooked on her shoulder to protect from the darkness swallowing you on all sides.

Rei’s voice is steady even as she negotiates the tricky overlapping totems of rock. “Is this worth all the photographs you took?”

“Y- Yes.”

“Will I get to judge for myself?”

“If all goes well –” you pause as you careful dangle your feet for purchase on an outcrop. “Then it should be in the papers next Saturday.”

“I’ll remember to look out for you.”

As you follow the white halo of light on her back, you want to hope she really means it.


END



Thanks for reading! Comments appreciated too :)


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