[DDD | 062 | Action | Open to Evapartment]

[redheadcarrier]

 For a long, long time she'd simply stared at her powered-down computer monitor, trying to will the familiar sounds out of her head. She remembered that day. Even two years later, it still came back, clear and sharp and just as traumatic. There were days she didn't think about it. Weeks, months, even. But it always came back to haunt her, one way or another. She finally stood, could feel the tension in her shoulders and in her chest and she padded down to the bathroom on bare feet.

Stripped, naked feet on the bathroom tile. Turned the water on until i ran hot, steam filling the little room and then she clambered into the shower and stood under the stream of water, bent over, letting it beat off of her back, hair plastered to her skin. She didn't plan to move for a long, long time. 

_{[[OOC: Comes after this post.]]}

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[majrkatsuragi.livejournal.com]

The bathroom door burst open and Misato, heedless of Asuka, was crouching down, peering behind the toilet with an annoyed grimace. She was actually dressed in her old NERV uniform, though she seemed to have replaced the skirt with a much more sensible pair of trousers. Without looking up, she snapped.

"Where the hell did my USP go? I know I had it when we moved in, where did I hide it?!"

[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

"...how should I know?"

Her voice echoed off of the bathroom walls. She sounded tense, a bit choked. "You know you can't get there anyway, right? It'll be just like ours was. No way in or out. Not 'til its over."

She wished Misato would just get out.

[majrkatsuragi.livejournal.com]

"That--That's not the point." Misato slumped down, leaning against the wall. She had to find that gun (it was probably in that box of old books in the back of her closet).

"I need to help him. I can't just sit here!" Her fist slammed against the tiled wall of the bathroom.

[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

"Fine. Run out and save Shinji. Go... do whatever it is you think you're going to do. Shoot at them with a pistol. Get killed. See what I care."

Her fingers felt slick against the tile. She couldn't do this. She kept remembering, kept thinking about that day and Misato, Misato standing here talking about saving Shinji didn't help her either.

"So, where were you when I needed help?"

Her voice was bitter; a bit of recrimination.

[majrkatsuragi.livejournal.com]

Misato buried her face in her hands, feeling suddenly helpless. She was right, of course. She'd no way of getting to Shinji. And even if she could, what could she do that she hadn't done in the first place. She shook her head, the crushing guilt, the feeling of impotence and failure that had weighed down on her when she had arrived here creeping into her mind.

"I. . .I was trying to get Shinji to the cage. So he could launch the Eva Unit-01."

[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

Why didn't Misato just leave her alone? Asuka closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, tried to let the water wash away everything. The memories, the horrible feeling of guilt and dread that knotted in her stomach.

"...he didn't make it in time for me, apparently."

[majrkatsuragi.livejournal.com]

"_{I'm sorry.}" How many times has she said that? How many times more will she say it?

"I wish I could have done more. I'm sorry, Asuka. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

She gritted her teeth and as the last little apology echoed in the room, she smacked her hand into the wall. "Just shut up! Just... shut up, alright? I don't want your stupid pity, I don't want any of this! Just leave me alone!"

Alone with her memories.

[majrkatsuragi.livejournal.com]

"It's not pity!" Misato snapped back from her position against the wall.

"I won't leave you alone because I care about you!" She struggled to her feet, glaring over at the shower.

[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

"I told you to leave me alone, alright? I'm fine and I don't need you in here!"

This from the girl who's just standing in the shower so she can stop herself from having a breakdown.

[majrkatsuragi.livejournal.com]

"If you're fine why have you been standing in the damn shower since Shinji's video came up?!" She slammed a hand against the wall next to the shower, her other hand clenching into a tight fist. She hated this. Hated feeling helpless and unable to give the people she loved what they needed.

[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

"None of your business. Now go away."

[majrkatsuragi.livejournal.com]

"No! I won't!" Two equally stubborn women. Arguing in the bathroom.

[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

Asuka goes silent and just lets the water run over her. She doesn't want to talk anymore.

[majrkatsuragi.livejournal.com]

"I hate this. I hate being not being able to do anything to help you. I hated it then, I hate it even more now because I know we could--I wish we could do something. But we can't We're helpless." She slumped against the wall again, her anger draining away as she continued talking to Asuka.

[eschatologist.livejournal.com]

Mass Produced Eva.

He can remember the hours spent. Remember the rigorous tests. (And he had listened to each scenario. Had thought upon it. Had answered. Verbal and no. And he had known. In some manners, what it was they intended. What is was they would do. Had remembered: This will serve its - and the name. Half-recalled, but sharp. Half-recalled, but -)

And he had heard it. Over the community. Had heard the screams. The frantic sirens. The wailing. Had heard the abrupt slamming shut of the laptop, though faintly, from the kitchen. Heard the eventual slam of the door. The shower running. And he did not need to check. Did not need to hear it all. Did not - (and it was slow. And it had been silent. And he could feel the weight of nausea. Settling into his stomach. Could feel the realization. Something almost painful. Something almost fraying. Snapped. And could not do more than listen. Could not budge. For a moment. For a longer moment. And -)

The heat of the water is what brings him back. (Is enough to almost scald as he belatedly pulls his hand back. Slow. As he belatedly - almost - fumbles for the tap. As he twists it off. As he listens to the angry gurgling of water. Mirrored in the walls before him. Behind him. And knows the path before he is consciously aware of it. Knows the pitch of Misato's voice before he registers the words. And does not heed the vitriol as he finds himself at the bathroom door. Knowing she had retreated her. Before. Knowing that -)

Misato had already followed. (Had beaten him. And he hangs back in the door way. Notes the slumped way of her body. Notes the silence from behind the pulled curtains. For the moment. For now. And lets his eyes linger, for a moment. Upon the shower. Before letting them rest, unreadable upon Misato. A silent suggestion.)

Does not cross the threshold.

[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

Asuka doesn't answer Misato. Go away. She wants to be left alone, to wallow in her own misery, to work through this on her own. Why doesn't anyone ever listen to her? Why doesn't anyone ever look at her or love her or realize what's happened?

Why did Shinji have to come back and make everything complicated?

The water is hot, almost too hot, but she ignores it. Shuts her eyes against the steam and tries not to listen to the voice beyond the curtain. Loses herself in the sound of running water, water on tile.

[majrkatsuragi.livejournal.com]

Misato is silent. She can feel Kaworu's gaze, turns her head to look back at him for a moment, a flash of disgust, unease, gratitude, mixed feelings. She doesn't know what to think of him, of his relationship with someone she considers her responsibility. He is(was) an Angel. Now. . .a deeply unsettling young man. But human none the less. How does she deal with him? What does she do?

But those questions can wait. The silence from the shower is more than she can bear, and then, after a moment's hesitation the curtain is shoved aside and she steps inwards, flinching a moment as the steaming water runs over her, drenches her clothing. It's irrelevant to her purpose though. Ignoring any protests from Asuka she gathers the young girl (no, young woman now), into her arms and hugs her fiercely, clutching her tightly against herself. No words spoken. Just silent affirmation that Misato's here and that she cares for (loves?) Asuka. Two extradimensional refugees spinning out of control with no idea of a future or what their purpose is any longer.

[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

Asuka was surprised by the sudden movement. Very surprised. For a moment, she stared at Misato, drawing breath for a scream of outrage. Then there were arms around her, wet cloth and she jerked back against the wall, pushed at Misato. She was fine. After a moment, she went limp, staring over Misato's shoulder at the wall.

"I'm fine..."

And even though the arms were comforting and felt safe, she hated herself for thinking that. She hated herself for not putting up more of a fight.

[majrkatsuragi.livejournal.com]

Misato doesn't reply, she just tightens her embrace. Her heads rests against Asuka's, her damp hair tangling with the younger woman's. She just wants to make sure Asuka can get through this. That she gets the support she knows she needs, even if Asuka will reject it.

[eschatologist.livejournal.com]

He does not interrupt. Does not move to interrupt.

And he’s quiet, as he crosses the threshold. Quiet, as he sets to laying out towels. (And listens to the fainter way Asuka murmurs. To the occasional audible inhale. Exhale. The steady thrum of water. And does not speak. Does not say a word. As he pulls what he is seeking from the cabinet. As he remembers to grab four – and notes and not the dampness that brushes up against the sides of his feet.)

He knows of this proximity. This mode of comfort. (And he does not hear a protest. Does not hear her protest. Knowing. Having learned why Man crave that closeness. The weight of arms and the comfort of proximity. Having learned – and he’s pausing. A beat or two. Pausing – and he’s curling his fingers into worn material of the towels. Thumbing the threadbare edges.)

She has not pushed her away.

(And he’s quiet, as urges himself back into motion. As he sets the towels out carefully. Upon the edge of the sink. As he is careful to move Asuka's A10 clips to the top of the smaller stack he's created. As he takes the extra he has collected. As he stems the flow of water. The smaller, spanning pools. And is silent as he lays it out neatly. As he ignores the water that has seeped into his pant legs.

Resigns himself, after a moment, to wait again just beyond the threshold. In the eventual move to make the tea he had intended. For all of them.)