Rommel wrote:I wonder what would happen if I threatened a really BAD ending.

Shinji placed the last of the groceries in the plastic basket and walked to the checkout counter. He shopped here often enough that he knew the place well, and he had no difficulty finding the things he'd come to get, but it always surprised him how well-stocked the place was. Like most the other outlets left in Tokyo-3, the store was small, with aisles lined up parallel to one another and a large freezer along the back wall. This was the same store Asuka had once ran off to during their synch training, probably the only time she'd ever been here.

Shinji didn't find that surprising. Asuka was not the sort to concern herself with the domestic necessities of life; as far she was concerned bags of potato chips just materialized out of thin air inside Misato's freezer in the same way clean clothes conveniently showed up in her drawers for her to wear. Even taking care of her own needs seemed an act of humiliation for someone so arrogant they thought they deserved to be waited on hand and foot.

At first this attitude had bothered Shinji, but he had long stopped letting it get to him. Despite her haughty demeanor, he knew Asuka needed him to do these things for her. He saw it as his duty, and he took pride in it.

As he cleared the last aisle, Shinji emerged onto the front of the store. A old man with a wrinkled face and black hair stood behind the register, scanning a few items for a slender female customer wearing NERV's distinctive tan uniform. Shinji recognized her.

Fuuka Sanada, an easy-going technician whom Misato had recently introduced him to, turned her round green eyes to him and smiled. “Hey, Ikari-san.”

Shinji started at the honorific and brought his eyes down on himself. Dressed in a white shirt with a red swoosh logo over the left breast and stripes down the sides, khaki shorts, and tattered sneakers, there didn't seem to be anything about him that warranted such respect. He certainly didn't think so. But Fuuka obviously thought otherwise, and it made the encounter all the more uncomfortable.

“Um ...”

“Good luck getting him to talk,” the old man behind the register said as he placed the last of Fuuka's items through the scanner on the counter and into a plastic bag. The display next to them showed at total.

Fuuka reached into her uniform's side pocket, just above a curvy hip. Turning back to the clerk, she handed over her credit card. “Why do you say that?”

The clerk swiped the car across a small slot next to the register, and fixed Shinji with his gaze. “He comes here pretty often, but I've never so much as gotten a name out of him.” He held up the card. “I only know who he is because he has one of these too.”

Fuuka seemed incredulous as she gave Shinji another look. Her voice rose a bit “Really, Ikari-san? Are you embarrassed to let people know who you are?”

It wasn't quite like that, but Shinji knew explaining anything would be pointless. Saying he was an Eva pilot was to invite attention he didn't want, to open himself to scrutiny and questioning. People would form expectations of him which he couldn't meet—make him into some kind of hero which he wasn't. What was a hopelessly awkward boy like him supposed to do in such a situation?

Shinji dared to glance up but avoided meeting their eyes. His postured had stiffened, his footsteps heavy. “Can I just check out? Please?”

Fuuka moved aside, watching him as he placed the basket on the counter. Shinji wished she would just go. The clerk went through usual routine, picking up each item, scanning it and placing into a bag. Shinji kept his attention fixed on the display showing his total rising with each scan. He had already figured it out in his head so he had an idea of what it would come up to, but he didn't want to look anywhere else.

Once the clerk was done, Shinji offered his card. The clerked swiped it silently and returned it, together with a receipt.

“Thank you,” Shinji said out of politeness. He picked up his bags, turned and headed for the exit. The door chimed as he left. Finally, he looked up at the clear blue sky and breathed a sigh of relief.

And almost immediately he heard Fuuka's voice again.

“Ikari-san, may I ...” she trailed off.

Shinji didn't know what to do. He didn't want to be rude to her, but neither did he want to talk or have her follow him like this. He dropped his head and sighed again. Wasn't she happy that she had embarrassed him? What could she possibly want now?

But Fuuka must have picked up on his sullen manner, and her voice became lower. “I'm sorry if I offended you.”

And that was when Shinji realized she didn't understand, and the realization startled him almost as much as hearing his name called out so prominently a moment ago. He turned his head toward her, his young face serious but far from angry. Fuuka stood with her bag dangling at her side, locks of her short black hair brushed behind her left ear, her head bowed in apology.

“I … I'm not offended,” Shinji murmured carefully.

Fuuka blinked her surprise. “Oh?”

Shinji tried his hand at a smile, more for her benefit than because he felt like it. “I guess I'm just not used to being put on the spot like that.”

“Still,” Fuuka said, bowing a little deeper. “It wasn't my intention to annoy you. Where I'm from everyone usually keeps to themselves, but here, well, it's different. I thought being friendly was the polite thing to do.”

Shinji shook his head.

Straightening, Fuuka reached into her shopping bag. “I had planned to share this with someone,” she said, retrieving what looked like a cup of frozen yogurt, “but I don't think they'll mind if I share it with you instead. You are the Third Child, after all.”

She stepped closer, holding out the yogurt in her outstretched hand like a peace offering. Shinji hesitated and almost took a step back. He didn't doubt her intentions. In the short time he had known her she had always seemed like a perfectly pleasant young woman. And he felt guilty that the way he had acted towards her had made her feel like she needed to apologize to him. She hadn't done anything. A lot of people wouldn't have bothered.

Shinji looked at the black sedan parked across the street, pressing his lips. Fuuka worked for NERV—for all he knew she was an undercover Section 2 agent herself. And Misato wouldn't have introduced him to someone she thought might pose a threat to him. That meant his guardian trusted her enough to want him to known who she was.

Slowly, Shinji reached out and took the yogurt. It was cold to the touch, but in the heat of the day it felt rather pleasant to hold in his palm.

“Come on,” Fuuka said, her grin almost ear to ear. “Lets find a place to sit.”

They found a small bench at a bus stop around the corner and sat, their shopping bags full of groceries at their feet. Mindful not to intrude on him, Fuuka left some room between them—enough that someone could have sat there comfortably. As Shinji began to consider the yogurt cup's foil top she handed him a plastic spoon.

Shinji peeled back the foil and dipped in his spoon, which he then held to his mouth. Strawberries—Asuka's favorite. He looked curiously at Fuuka, wondering if she could have known somehow, but she had her gaze firmly on the other side of the street, her yogurt untouched. Her round eyes had a familiarity to them he found disconcerting. He knew only one other person with that feature, and her eyes were a brilliant blue not green. But he knew them …

The last couple of weeks he had spent with Asuka felt like the happiest of his life. But he couldn't forget where he'd come from, what he and Asuka had been through. Those weren't the sort of wounds that could be healed by a little downtime, if ever. He would always remember hearing her scream as her mind was raped while he stood by and did nothing. He would remember telling her he hated her and making her cry. And later, finding her in her room on the verge of an emotional breakdown after the incident with Keiko.

He would always remember what tragedy and regret looked like on those round eyes.

Fuuka smirked cynically when she noticed he was staring at her. “You must think I'm some kind of freak. A grown woman inviting a fourteen-year-old. I should be arrested, right?”

Even before she finished Shinji started shaking his head.

“I understand why you'd want to be left alone. Being alone means that nobody can hurt us. You must have been hurt enough to last you a lifetime.” Fuuka paused and leaned back, turning her head to him. “But I couldn't help it. I had to talk to you."

Shinji looked at her for a long while. The yogurt cup began to go warm in his hands. Then he finally said, “W-why?”

Fuuka shook her head. "Forgive me. It would be unfair of me to place that burden on your shoulders.” She waited a moment, then, as if making up her mind about something, added, “Thank you for indulging me.”

Before Shinji could bring himself to say anything—even if he didn't know what that would be—she had stood up and was picking up her bag.

“Not everyone can do what you do, Shinji,” she said. “It's not wrong to let people know your name. You should be proud."

Shinji had gotten used to hearing that, but no matter how many times he did he didn't believe it. Pride was the sort of thing that belonged to people who made a choice to be courageous and place themselves in danger for the sake of others. He didn't feel that way. Eva was a part of his life that had been forced on him by his father. He had found some meaning and even comfort in it, but the truth remained that he had only enough courage not to let everyone down.

Piloting Eva came easily. He fought because he could, not because he was brave.

Shinji watched Fuuka head down the sidewalk, eventually vanishing around the corner and out of sight. He sat there another minute, then picked up his own shopping bags and headed off, finishing off the last of the yogurt as he went.

The walk home took only fifteen minutes. Unlike so many other times and so many other days his thoughts didn't trouble him on the way back.

“I'm home!” Shinji called out as he slipped off his shoes at the entrance. Moving inside, he set the groceries down on the kitchen table.

A muted flush from the toilet answered him. Then, a moment later, the accordion-style door linking the bathroom to the kitchen opened with a racket. Asuka stepped out on bare feet, adjusting the waistband of her typically skimpy shorts—the only thing she had on besides a plain pink bra.

Shinji, who had already begun opening cupboard to put away the groceries he had just purchased, looked at her curiously. Asuka tilted her head, golden-red bangs shifting across her forehead, and gave him a lop-sided smirk. The more comfortable she got with him the less she seemed to want to wear, but that wasn't what caught Shinji's attention.

Asuka raised her shoulders into an impatient shrug. “What?”

“Remember to wash your hands.”

Asuka scowled at him, thin eyebrows coming together. But she knew better than to argue. She whirled around on her heels, her golden-red hair flaring out about her like a sheet, and marched back into the bathroom with an annoyed huff. By the time she emerged again Shinji had a can of peas in his hand and was deciding whether to stash it next to the corn or the beans.

Her nose so high up in the air Shinji thought she would to trip, Asuka pounded around the far side of the table and off into the living room. She didn't even bother to offer her help.

Shinji was fine with that—Asuka didn't know where anything went anyway.

But I'm sure I would die a slow death. :p

The Minister of the Interior looked up from the report he had been examining, his face troubled. Musashi Kluge knew then he would get what he wanted. Faced with the evidence, the Minister would now have to do what all politicians hated doing—take decisive action.

“So it’s true then,” the Minister said, slowly and very carefully. “All this time ...”

Kluge nodded, his lined features frozen in grim seriousness. “Directive 21 is still feasible. It has been modified to allow for certain changes in the situation. It remains the most effective way to deal with this.”

“I can’t.” The Minister shook his head. “Even if the Special Protection Order is removed, NERV's personnel remain largely civilian. They have families, who would surely not let any such thing slide. We need to bring Gendo Ikari in lawfully.”

Kluge had known that was coming. “My office can make the case that NERV is now a terrorist organization. When the Security Council reviews my report they will agree. What happened in China was an atrocity. If we do not deal with it accordingly ...” he trailed off and let Minister's mind fill in the blank with its own worse nightmare.

Some things were far more terrible than losing the confidence of the public.

“The Chinese government will not stand for this,” the Minister after a grim moment. Leaning back on his chair he looked up at the pendulum hanging down in the middle of his large, luxurious office like the proverbial Sword of Damocles dangling over their heads. “They will blame us for harboring Ikari. They will want blood. Not even the Security Council—no military power in the world will be able to stop them.”

“Except for maybe the Evangelion.”

The Minister glared at him as thought he had just insulted a relative. “If we had not needed them we would have never approved of such monstrosities. They may have protected us, but how much death and destruction have they caused? Ikari has been absolutely reckless in their implementation.”

“I believe that is a weakness we can exploit,” Kluge suggested, and knew by the way the Minister's thick eyebrows came up that he was interested.

“How so?”

Kluge paused, stretching out the moment for the sake of drama. “NERV has always enjoyed a great deal of independence. They do not answer to us. We could not have known of Gendo Ikari's activities and thus had no cause for intervention. But now we know how far he has descended into madness. Now we have to take action. The tragedy in China was not the will on the Japanese nation, only of one man. We must make that clear.”

“Are you suggesting we take over?” the Minister sounded incredulous. “We have long known our relationship with NERV would end in conflict, but all our estimations were for its destruction. Militaries and military organizations are blunt instruments.”

Kluge nodded. “True enough. But the alterations I have made to Directive 21 account for certain new, shall I say, resources inside NERV.”

The Minister considered, bringing a burly hand to his chin, eyes narrowed. “Are these resources trustworthy?”

“Revenge motivates people to be trustworthy.”

“Indeed,” the Minister agreed. Then he added seemingly to himself, “And think of what we would gain. The Evangelion would be under our control. Half a century of foreign military hegemony would be instantly forgotten.”

Kluge almost smiled. This was too easy. “You would be the man who secured the Japanese future. Both by eliminating a threat and by procuring a new weapon. You can present the Directive at an Emergency Meeting as a Special Action Order under strict confidentiality. I am sure the Security Council would rather have us overseeing NERV than Ikari.”

The Minister fell silent. Only the clock-like ticking generated by the huge swinging pendulum filled the room, echoing of the walls. Behind them, in the large open window, the sun had started to set. Red hues covered the landscape, like blood. The sign of death to come.

Kluge had always made his own fate. He did not believe in omens, but he found the metaphor rather appropriate.

Finally the Minister rose to his feet. His voice was hard when he spoke.

“What do you need?”

“Military authority,” Kluge answered, waiting just a heartbeat so as not to seem overeager. “My people will take care of the rest.”

“I want minimal casualties.”

“That will severely restrain our ability to—”

“If I wanted a slaughter I wouldn't bother with this cloak and dagger shit. Understand this, Kluge. I am the one who will be held responsible when piles of bodies from NERV employees show up on the news. You work in the shadows. Nobody knows your name. But me … I will be hung out to dry.”

“It would not have come to this had we acted accordingly when we had the chance. It is time to do what needs to be done for the sake of our national security. If Gendo Ikari chooses to unleash the Evangelion on us as he did in China there is not much we could do to stop it. The level of destruction he can cause would be immense. We will move to neutralize that threat as soon as possible. How would the public react if they knew you had allowed such a thing to happen when it could have been prevented by acting against the terrorist who would perpetrate that act? ”

“That is not what I'm saying.” The Minister pointed his finger at himself then at Kluge. “I'm saying the public and the government will blame me. And I will blame you.”

“It will be a mess, no matter what we do.”

The Minister turned to the window. The crimson light that flooded the office made him appear outlined as a black shadow against the outside world.

“I want guarantees that this will not get out of hand,” the Minister said. “I want your people on a tight leash. Only as much force as required to achieve your objectives. You are a professional, so no screw-ups. I will take the blame for this either way, but I do not have to tell you what will happen to your department if you fail. I will not face the hangman alone.”

“Very well.”

Compromise was the kernel of diplomacy, Kluge thought somewhat cynically. No matter; if things went according to plan he would not need to worry about any idle threats. Lorenz Keel had made it very clear what his ultimate objective was, and that made everything else completely irrelevant.

They parted without banal pleasantries. The Minister pressed a button on his electronic console and the door to the far side of the office unlocked with an audible click. Kluge's steps trailed behind him as he departed. He kept his hard gaze fixed forward.

The hall outside bustled with activities, but the couriers, pages and office personnel seemed to know to stay out of his way. A military aide to the 4th Mountain, the division staged around Tokyo-3, saluted him. Fools, Kluge thought, the military would be powerless against Ikari. If they believed they could force a resolution on their own terms they would have tried it by now. They hadn't, because they were afraid.

But Lorenz Keel was not afraid. Neither was Kluge.

His black armored limousine waited for him outside, tinted windows completely obscuring the interior. He opened the door and climbed inside. Glowing red eyes met him from the far corner, a shock of white hair visible in the dim lighting of the interior.

I probably just shouldn't have said anything.

Chuckman wrote:Damn, and here I thought I could crank out some words. I wish ff.net was more Kindle friendly.

Rommel wrote:It's done, people.

The finale clocks in at 156 pages