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Perceptions

(EVA Echo)

Part 1 – Meetings and Such

By Random1377

Cubists and surrealists, neoclassical and baroque, sculptures, paintings, and every art form imaginable surrounded Misato as she wandered aimlessly through the Tokyo-3 City museum, her arms folded tightly against her stomach to avoid accidentally brushing anything that cost more than she made in a lifetime. She gazed up at the mobiles hanging from the ceiling, shaking her head in bemusement as she wondered what kind of wacko it took to come up with some of the bizarre designs.

She was not even sure why she had stopped in this foreign structure, past the fact that it had started to rain when she was out taking a walk to clear her head, and it had been convenient to slip into the dusty smelling building to avoid getting soaked.

Everything is getting so complicated, she mused as she wandered from room to room, barely seeing the artwork. First that business with the sub-commander disappearing… and now Kaji's gone… God, I just don't want to think anymore…

Misato forced her mind into silence as she stood in front of an abstract sculpture in the heart of the museum. The title read 'Woman Reclining' but it looked more like someone took a chainsaw to chunk of stone and carved out random curves.

Doesn't even look human, she thought critically, scowling at the sculpture as if willing it to rearrange itself into something that made sense. Maybe it's like one of those magic-eye puzzles, where you have to stare at it for a long time before the image pops out at you.

Deciding that she had nothing better to do, Misato stared… but after a few minutes of silence, she became aware of a soft, repetitive scratching sound coming from somewhere on her left side. Pulling her attention away from the sculpture, she found a young man sitting on a folding seat just behind her. He had a sketchbook on his lap, and was using a pencil to hastily outline a drawing, his eyes focused on the task for the moment as she stepped closer and glanced down at the page to see how good he was.

"Hey!"

The young man looked up, startled by her surprised exclamation. "Oh, umm… h-hi…" he stammered, pushing his glasses higher onto his nose with one hand as he tried to close his sketchbook with the other.

Misato reached out and put her hand on his, keeping the book open as she craned her neck for a better view, her brows drawing down as she surveyed the detailed drawing of the room… with the hastily added sketch of her own profile.

"Sorry," the young man apologized awkwardly, "you just looked so sad, I couldn't help it…"

Misato gazed at the drawing for a long time, taking in her morose, frowning face and brooding, slightly narrowed eyes. Is that really what I look like these days? she thought grimly. Good thing I left the house. If Shinji saw me like that, he'd probably cry.

"It's fine," she muttered belatedly, letting her hand off of his and taking a step back. "You're… talented."

"Umm, thanks."

Coloring, Misato turned away, embarrassed at her own awkwardness and sorrow. What's wrong with me? she wondered, wrapping her arms back around her stomach as she started for the door. Pull it together, Katsuragi – you're going to piece-

"Umm, ma'am?"

Misato glanced back over her shoulder. "Hmm?"

"You're going to-"

With a nauseating crack, the side of Misato's head met the doorframe, drawing a yelp of surprise and pain from her as she started to topple backwards, some small part of her wondering if they would let her make installment payments as she tumbled helplessly towards the undoubtedly priceless art.

She grunted faintly as her backward motion was arrested, her back hitting something simultaneously hard and soft and diverting the path of her fall so she ended up on her side rather than the sculpture.

The young man, who had broken her fall, groaned pathetically, his voice coming from somewhere under Misato's ribcage. "Ah, God, sorry," she blurted, rolling off of him and getting to her feet as he straightened his glasses with one hand and rubbed his shoulder with the other.

"It's ok," he assured her, looking around for his sketchbook as he rose to his feet, "I'm kinda used to falling down."

Misato blinked at this odd statement. "What," she asked, "are you really clumsy or something?"

Grinning sheepishly, the young man scratched the back of his neck. "Something like that, yeah. I just-"

"Your picture."

"Huh?"

Misato pointed down. "Your picture got torn," she whispered, looking into his disappointed face. "I'm so sorry, umm, sir, I-"

"Keitaro," the young man cut in, kneeling on the floor and gathering up the halves of his drawing, "it's Keitaro… and you don't have to apologize – it was just a sketch, after all. I'm just glad you didn't get hurt." He looked up at her, suddenly concerned. "You didn't, did you?"

"Er, no, I'm good, thanks."

"Ok, good."

Keitaro, as Misato now knew him, stood up and retook his seat, offering her a shy smile as he flipped to a new page and turned his attention back to the sculpture. Misato started to leave, but hesitated, biting her lip as she studied the young man's profile, taking the opportunity to get a really good look at him while his attention was elsewhere.

He's… kinda good looking, she mused as she watched him work. Pretty intense, too… hell, I think he's forgotten I'm here. She turned to face him fully, regarding him for another few minutes as he scratched at his sketchpad. Shrugging, she thought, What the hell? I've got a little time, and I could DEFINITELY use a distraction…

"Do you… do you wanna get some coffee or something?" she asked, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb.

"Pardon?"

The look of amazement on the young man's face told Misato all she needed to know about his marital status.

"Coffee," she said, sticking her hand up and mimicking the act of holding a cup. "You know – the drink? Dark stuff? People put cream and sugar in it sometimes? Keeps you up late at night?"

Chuckling weakly Keitaro said, "Yeah, I've had it a couple times, I just…"

"Just what?" Misato prompted as he trailed off.

Keitaro looked up at her with a questioning expression, as if trying to decide if she was teasing him or not, then slowly closed his sketchbook and whispered, "Just… I know a great place right across the street."

Misato had the oddest impression that the young man was still waiting for her to retract the offer, but she was soon distracted as he got to his feet and promptly tripped over his own shoelace, falling hands-first towards her chest. Being trained for hand to hand combat, and already a bit on edge, Misato caught his hands at the wrists and took a step back, turning the almost-grope into an impromptu embrace, with Keitaro resting most of his weight against her chest as he stammered an almost sobbing apology.

"You are clumsy, aren't you?" she teased, helping him right himself. She noticed that he immediately shoved his hands in to his pockets, a move she guessed (correctly) would help him avoid feeling her up by accident.

Good thing he didn't land on my gun, she thought wryly, THAT would have been hard to explain.

With his sketchbook tucked under one arm, the blushing young man lead her to a small coffee shop across the street from the museum. As he hurried through the pounding rain, he somehow managed to get splashed by three separate cars and a bicyclist while Misato herself stayed relatively dry.

This kid's not just clumsy, she thought as she wiped rain off of her face, he was born under a bad sign or something – a trouble magnet. God, even Shinji has better luck than that!

Once they were seated and Keitaro was fumbling nervously with the menu, Misato reassessed him. From the glances he continually shot her way she deduced that she was the cause of his klutziness. "I don't bite, you know," she said, smiling faintly as Keitaro nearly jumped out of his booth, dropping his menu between them on the table. When he reached for it, she gently laid her fingers on the back of his hand, waiting until he looked up at her before murmuring, "Just relax, ok?"

"Yeah, sorry," Keitaro said weakly, "I'm just not used to… you know… this…"

Misato leaned back in her chair. "Ordering coffee?"

Keitaro laughed, and Misato was glad to hear that it sounded a bit more genuine. "No, ordering it with a beautiful wo-"

He cut himself off, hiding behind his menu as his face – once more – went bright red.

"Are you two ready to order?"

Looking up, Misato noticed the waitress glancing enviously down at her chest. "Coffee for me, and whatever my boyfriend wants," she said, giving the woman a conspiratorial wink.

Somehow, Misato was never quite sure how, Keitaro managed to tell the waitress that he wanted their special amaretto flavored hot chocolate, though it took him four or five attempts, since he kept stammering and mixing up words. Returning Misato's wink, the waitress let them know that it would be a few minutes, and went off to start putting their order together.

From the other woman's knowing smile, Misato knew that she had a few minutes alone with her shy date.

"So," she said after a moment or two of watching the young man fiddle with his napkin, "beautiful, huh? I guess if you're going to throw out compliments, you should at least know my name." She held out her hand for him to shake. "I'm Misato. Nice to meet you."

To his credit, Keitaro did not try to deny what he had said, and even though he did drop the napkin in his haste to shake her hand, his voice was even as he whispered, "I didn't mean to be so forward, M-Misato," as he paused, Misato smiled, charmed by the trouble he had in spitting out her first name, "I just… I really… don't do this much…"

Misato arched an eyebrow. "You mean… ever?"

Keitaro laced his hands together and placed them on the table to keep them from fidgeting with things as he spoke. "No," he said softly, "just… not much."

"Mmm, I see."

It suddenly occurred to Misato how out of place he seemed – as if he just didn't belong to her world, but rather to a place Misato had never dreamed of, let alone known. In studying his face, she felt something stir inside of her, a strange kind of ache that made her eyes sting and her stomach clench up the way it did before kissing someone for the first time.

"Where do you live?"

Keitaro looked up from the table, blinking in surprise at this unexpected question. "I'm, umm, the manager of a dorm a couple towns over," he said carefully. "I live there."

"A manager," Misato repeated, leaning forward and resting her chin in her palms. "Aren't you kind of young for that?"

Chuckling weakly, Keitaro replied, "Feels like it sometimes, but I'm twenty-one, and I've been managing it for two years."

Misato nodded. "Wow," she commented, "you're a pretty responsible person."

Keitaro blushed and averted his eyes. "I guess," he said, looking happy in spite of his discomfort. "What do you do?"

"Oh, I do clerical work," Misato lied smoothly, not feeling like sullying the feeling of the mood with the truth. "Boring office stuff, that's all. Nothing important."

Leaning forward, Keitaro said, "No, that's important too." When Misato gaped at him, he hurried on. "I mean, you know, my parents always said there's no such thing as a meaningless job, and… and if you like what you do, it's… it's… you know…"

Misato smiled softly. "I think I know what you're saying," she said gently, thinking suddenly how much the young man reminded her of Shinji. She looked out the window as Keitaro stared down at the table. "Rain's letting up," she observed motioning their waitress over and explaining, "I should really get this coffee to go. My… roommates will be worried."

"Oh, right, sure," Keitaro exclaimed, quickly getting to his feet as the waitress went off to put their drinks in travel cups, "I should go too, or- whoa!"

Stepping forward, he slipped on the napkin he had dropped earlier, stumbling into the booth with Misato and ending up with his hands on either side of her head and his face inches from hers. He tried to pull back, but her hands (which had instinctively wrapped around his sides to keep him from falling all the way onto her) held him in place.

"S-sorry," he blurted, "I'm so clu-"

"Shh," Misato whispered, "you didn't hurt me… don't worry about it."

Slowly, she eased him back until he was standing on his own two feet.

"So, er, thanks for the drink," Keitaro stammered, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other as Misato rose to her feet.

"Thanks for hanging out with me," Misato countered, holding out her hand as she added, "maybe we could… do it again sometime."

Keitaro looked awed, taking her hand and (unsure of what else to do) giving it a careful shake. "I'd umm… I'd like that…"

"Would you?"

"Yeah!"

Misato smiled as the young man blushed a bright red, clearly embarrassed by his enthusiasm. "Here," she said quietly, making small movements to keep him from bolting as she reached into her jacket and pulled out a pen. "I work weird hours, so leave me a voice mail, and I'll call you back when I get a chance – and Keitaro," she added as he started to look dejected, "I will… call back, ok?"

Reassured that he was not getting a polite brush off, Keitaro gave a weak smile. "Ok."

Pressing her number into his palm, Misato impulsively reversed the accepted protocol for the end of a first time date and lifted his hand to her lips.

"Don't keep me waiting too long," she advised, taking a great deal of pleasure in seeing the young man's knees shaking ever so slightly as she released his hand.

"Y-yeah."

Accepting her coffee from the waitress, Misato gave the woman a few bills out of her pocket and told her to keep the change, gently touching her cup to Keitaro's and gesturing for him to precede her out of the small café.

"Goodnight, Keitaro," she said quietly, "it was nice meeting you."

Looking as if he had been hit in the head with a two-by-four, Keitaro meekly hiccupped, "Goodn-night, Misato."

Sharing one last tentative smile, the two turned and went their separate ways.

Continued…?

Author's notes: I… have an idea…

Pre-read was by Hawker-748 and MacBeth2001, cuz they know both series and they liked what I have planned for this story.