One.

-

"Do you hear it?" asked the low, wheezing voice.

Shinji took a step forward, toward her. "What is it?"

"You do not hear it."

"I want to help you."

Suddenly, a shape moved in the darkness. Two red eyes gleamed for the shadows.

A click. The hammer being drawn back. A cold, metal object, applied to Shinji's forehead. The gun.

Thunder.

- - -

Shinji's eyes opened wide. It was that damn dream again, just like the previous nights. Every night, since the Beach. The Bus, long since derelict, was just as he had left it. Asuka sat in a seat across the aisle. Outside, the rain pounded on. Shinji went into the privy, in the back of the bus. Having done his business, he went outside to find Asuka awake. They acknowledged each other briefly, and settled back into their makeshift beds. Their home; an abandoned bus in the highway. Tomorrow, their wanderings would continue.

There was prolonged quiet.

"Shinji?"

"Yes?"

"I haven't – umm… never mind."

Shinji glanced at her, then returned to sleep. Asuka would not share anything unless she wanted to share it. Shinji fell into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

- ---

Why go on living? No reason, really. Neither really had the courage to die.

---

Shinji was reminded of his long journey to Tokyo-3, at the Beginning. They were on a desolate highway, ruinous buildings in either direction. The sky had taken on a permanent sickly red hue, same color as the sea… the ground… and blood. Shinji glanced at his bandaged hand.

"We should change the dressing on that," said Asuka. Shinji assented, and let her tie a fresh white cloth. At that moment, she tried again.

"It's just that- that-"

She didn't finish the sentence. Shinji didn't press her.

-

Another ruined city. They did not even bother checking the name. Sitting on the park bench, surrounded by dead grass, they took lunch. They'd changed. The World had moved on. They were alone, wandering a desolate earth. For what sin were they atoning?

As they ate, Asuka tried once more.

"Shinji, you remember- you remember… never mind."

Shinji sighed, softly. How long? She must have been doing this for past fifty miles.

Then, things changed. It started as a gentle whirr, then a roar. They turned their faces to the sky, those two forsaken souls, and saw above them one of the ancient machines of the previous age; a helicopter, they recalled its name. Asuka's reaction was instant and animated. Reaching into her backpack, she removed an ancient device, not really a weapon, but a tool. Pointing it to the sky, she shielded her eyes from the flash. A flare split the twilight.

Rescue. Rescue from what? Rescued to go where?

In the back of the chopper, crowded in with six other people, those forsaken souls waited. Asuka was half apprehensive, half euphoric; rescue, rescue at last! Food, fresh water, and a bath, it would be wonderful! After so many… weeks? Months? Years? Rescue!

Shinji was near the front, and maintained composure. But over that radio, he heard a familiar voice.

"Well, we'll register them when you get back. Head back to base, ASAP," said the familiar female voice.

Before the pilot could respond, however, Shinji seized the radio and croaked into it: "Misato?"

-