[ That others may live. It sounds so noble. Her ever-changing reasons are less so, when first she held on to the promise of vengeance like a lifeline, only to realize that it is absolution she seeks, not retribution. It took her a decade to admit to herself that to take on her father's legacy is an act of love, not of hatred, that it is alright to love someone and lose them, that you never truly lose the ones you love. They remain, like broken bones calcified into something stronger, stiff, easier to shatter. Shrapnel in one's body, an ache occasionally remembered.
When Shinji told her he loved Kaworu, the enemy he strangled to death on orders from her, she told him it was deserved. Only those with the will to live get to survive. Kaworu wanted to die. Kaji wanted to die. Her father wanted to die, for her. The next day she got a call from Section Two, telling her, how the boy had tried to drown himself, wanting to be undeserving.
It's hard, admitting she was wrong. Admitting that, yes, it has been years and it still hurts. It's as hard to look at Sam and see herself reflected back, made noble, worthy. She despises this Riley for hurting him but understands that without the grief, there would be no Sam. Suffering makes one all the more capable of kindness, as someone very wise once said.
She untangles her hand from his so she can gather him into her arms, palm cradling the back of his neck, uncharacteristically yielding. She doesn't say, I'm sorry, though her mind betrays pain to mirror his. ]
I won't live long enough for it to ever be okay, but I hope you do. You're much closer to it. [ Her eyes are dry and her voice steady, but her throat feels tight. ] When you find the answer, come back to me, and tell me. Promise?
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When Shinji told her he loved Kaworu, the enemy he strangled to death on orders from her, she told him it was deserved. Only those with the will to live get to survive. Kaworu wanted to die. Kaji wanted to die. Her father wanted to die, for her. The next day she got a call from Section Two, telling her, how the boy had tried to drown himself, wanting to be undeserving.
It's hard, admitting she was wrong. Admitting that, yes, it has been years and it still hurts. It's as hard to look at Sam and see herself reflected back, made noble, worthy. She despises this Riley for hurting him but understands that without the grief, there would be no Sam. Suffering makes one all the more capable of kindness, as someone very wise once said.
She untangles her hand from his so she can gather him into her arms, palm cradling the back of his neck, uncharacteristically yielding. She doesn't say, I'm sorry, though her mind betrays pain to mirror his. ]
I won't live long enough for it to ever be okay, but I hope you do. You're much closer to it. [ Her eyes are dry and her voice steady, but her throat feels tight. ] When you find the answer, come back to me, and tell me. Promise?