[ Six or seven years ago she was in Berlin, needing to tell herself at the start of each day that she was accomplished and heading somewhere. They were grooming her for big things. Massive projects. She would have mankind's greatest creation, their one weapon against certain annihilation, under her command, and with it she can absolve herself of any debt owed to her late father. She had it all, see, she didn't need anybody, let alone a man, sad and alone, incapable of even calling out after her when she left him.

Misato grips Sam's hand too tightly, with surprising force despite her frame, and turns away to look at the far wall. ]

People like us, it's not important that we're happy. We bleed so others don't have to, so their children's problems will be puny and laughable. [ Her voice is low and level, cold as steel, it doesn't break. ] I don't mind. It suits me.

[ Too many others don't belong. Maya with heart as soft as her cat pillows, Kaji with his gardener's hands, her father soft and delicate, they were meant for life after the war, unlike her, battered and scarred, built to take a beating and keep going. Sam, now, she isn't sure Sam's made for it either. ]

What happened to you? What messed you up?