Disclaimer:I don't own Evangelion.

A/N: The final scene of EoE is, like much of the series, pretty ambiguous. What follows is just one possible interpretation of what might have been going on.


Terminus

I can see Ayanami.

Not the huge, dismembered... thing with her face, but Ayanami herself, just as I remember her. Standing there in her school uniform, floating just above the red waves. And just like that, she's gone.

I didn't even look away this time. What does it mean that I saw her like that?

When I first arrived in Tokyo-3, I saw Ayanami just like that, standing in the empty street while waves of heat rose from the pavement, though I didn't know it was her yet. But I remember now.

Does seeing her the same way just now mean that the nightmare of Eva is finally over? Or is a new one beginning?

Sitting up, something catches my eye. It would be easy to miss something red in this red world, with that crimson slash across the sky and the dark orange of the LCL sea dominating everything. But against the sand here on the beach, Asuka's plugsuit stands out like blood on pale skin.

Asuka.

Why?

Why is it her?

I accepted that coming back to this world meant that there would be pain. Isolation. That with the boundary between people restored I would be alone again, but that was okay. Mother told me that anywhere can be paradise, that as long as you live there's a chance to be happy.

But If all people have the chance to come back, why is there only her?

The one person who hates me more than anyone but myself. The one I betrayed, abandoned, left to die. She's lying there, bandages on her arm and her head, staring into the sky with her one uncovered eye.

Is she even really there? She looks like she did when she was... when I...

I'm crouched over her now, trying to find something, anything in that blank, staring eye.

But there's nothing. I hear her voice in my head, the last thing I heard her say during Instrumentality.

If it's with you, then I'd rather die.

Okay, Asuka.

I... won't let you down this time.

I'm sorry.


Pressure.

I can't breathe.

It should hurt, shouldn't it? I can feel hands on my neck. Squeezing. Choking me like his hands did in that dream. He's leaning over me, his face filling the bottom half of my visual field.

He looks as empty as I am.

Did that dream just never end? Or is this a new one?

My right arm lifts, as if on its own. Am I the one who is moving it? It feels restricted somehow. Bound.

Smooth skin beneath my fingers.

The pressure lessens, then leaves entirely, and my hand falls back to my side. Should I gasp for breath? Somehow it doesn't seem worth the effort, though in the absence of that pressure I can feel the pain it should have caused.

Is this not a dream then?

Something is dripping on me. On my face.

Hot and wet. Tears. His tears.

He sits back, and I can feel the weight of him on my legs. Over the sound of breaking waves, I hear something. It reminds me of a sound from long ago. A sound that I used to make, before.

My right eye tracks the sound, finally focusing on him.

He's crying.

Fuck you. What do you have to cry about. You left me to die. Even before that, you rejected me for your little doll.

Only when everyone else was gone did you come crawling back, and then... I know what you did, you selfish fucking pervert.

So don't you dare cry over me.

"How disgusting."


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