One Week
by Ketheres Elyion

Gone.

She was gone.

He had been foolish enough to think that sacrifice could be demanded of all others but himself. He had forced others to give up what they held dear, but still had the audacity to believe that he could keep what was most important to him. He thought he could keep her. But she had other plans. And they had not been the same as his.

The end result had not been as he has wished, hoped, or thought. He had thought she would return. She didn't. He hoped that he could bring her back himself somehow. He couldn't. He wished that there was some other way. There wasn't.

There was only this act that had taken her from him. This loss. The body was, of course, gone. Spilt over the floor of the testing cage. Mopped up like the occasional cup of coffee that Fuyutski would spill when he got nervous. Deposited in some heartless lab for study. It was all so wrong. It should have been enshrined. In a way, it was. Some of it still remained within that great beast. Some of it was still walking around in another form. And the last of it was where it should be, with him.

Gendo Ikari held the small vial up to the light, its contents filtering the pure white into a hazy yellow before it struck his eyes. In his hand he held all that remained of his wife Yui. But he was not so foolish as to believe that this was her essence - that lay elsewhere.

Gingerly he placed the vial on a small folded cloth on his dresser. Directly behind it was a picture of himself, his beloved, and the man they both trusted. Sitting in a folding chair was Yui. Leaning on the chair, hovering over her like a personal guardian angel was Fuyutski. The elder man had always been protective of her since her time as his research assistant. When it had happened, the teacher had no other reaction than to drop his coffee mug. It had shattered on contact with the floor and flooded the surrounding area with the steaming liquid - just as the plug had over-pressured and discharged its burden of LCL.

In the frame next to that one, there was a picture of Yui and the two she loved the most. Cradled in her arms was a toddler child of three years. The little boy was smiling, something he had always done when with his mother. Something he hadn't done since.

A third fame held Yui on her wedding day. He had never fully understood why, but she had insisted on a Western style ceremony. She had found the symbolism of the acts and words closer to her heart than any other tradition. He, however, would have consented to anything she would have requested, as he always had.

In each of these, there was something else. Hovering in the background, standing to the side, yielding the floor to the rest, this figure haunted the few pictures that adorned the abode of Gendo Ikari. It was himself.

He looked at the pictures. Stared into his own gaze. Met the same eyes that he saw the world with. But it was only a captured image; it had none of the life that real eyes had. He soon found himself looking in the mirror that the frames leaned against. And he found there the same that he had found in the pictures. There was no life in those eyes.

They were one of his best features, she had once said. She loved to stare intently into his eyes - into his soul. Whenever they would talk, sit, or stand together, she would always focus on him. He that's why he hated to wear his glasses when she was around. They were a barrier to seeing her. Even though they were clear, they still were standing between them. That's why he had invested in some contacts. They allowed him to keep working, but they were not noticeable.

He looked at the lenses case sitting on the dresser top. Picking it up, he regarded it for a moment before throwing it across the room into the trash can. There would be no more need for these.

Broken away from his intense reverie, Gendo realized that the phone was ringing. How long had that been going? A minute? Two? Three? However it was could wait some more.

He walked over to the closet, picking out something to throw over himself. What was appearance when there was no one to appear for? The phone continued to ring. Five minutes. Six. Seven.

Ikari returned to the dresser, avoiding looking at the pictures again. Instead he trained his eyes on the top drawer as he opened it. From inside the cluttered drawer, he retrieved a small black case. It opened with a click to reveal a pair of metal-rimmed glasses. Holding the object in his hands, he unfolded the orange-painted arms and slowly brought it up to his face. They slid on comfortably, but sat a little low on his nose. He ignored it.

Not bothering to close the drawer, he turned on the phone. It still rang. It had been nearly ten minutes now. Checking the ID display, Gendo recognized that there were actually two incoming calls. One was from Fuyutski. The other was from Akagi.

Ignoring them both, he walked out of the room, leaving the lights on and the door unlocked.

There was nothing to say. Yet.

The events spoken of in this occur immediately after Yui's absorption into Unit 01 (the next day or so). The title refers to how Gendo went missing for a week after Yui's "death."

I thought of this story after making my first post to the EVA ML. In it, I created a rough outline of Gendo's psychology, in which the most important factor was Yui. Someone made a reply to it that an Instrumentality sequence centered around Gendo would be interesting. I tried that first, but it didn't work and ended up turning into this.

An inspiring image used for this fic.

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