Doctor Who: The Evangelion Error (Book Two)

E11 Part 6: Only Martha Knows

Psychiatric Observation Room 3. NERV Medical Center.
The next morning

His initial thought was that he was still dreaming. Still adrift. On the other hand, his dreams, as a general rule, really didn't hurt this much. They also usually didn't involve an unknown something shoved up his nose.

Shinji opened his eyes slowly. Familiar ceiling. The hospital. Again. (Oh, great. He could recognize it on sight now.) He could feel yet another IV needle in his arm, while a plastic tube pumped fresh air directly through his nostrils.

"Ah, there you are!" The Doctor put aside the long patchwork scarf he was knitting. He sat in the hospital room's chair a short distance away, surrounded by folding tables stacked high with papers and bits of crumped-up scrap and the disassembled remote to Shinji's bed. "Good timing, too. Was on the verge of getting bored."

"Doctor?..." Shinji croaked. "How --" And then he started to cough, because his throat felt about as dry as two or three Saharas. Plus or minus a Gobi, maybe.

"Ohhh, the captain worked it all out." The Doctor absentmindedly pushed a glass of water with a straw towards him. "She wanted to be here, of course. Wound up being just a bit more cleanup this time 'round..."

***

Tokyo-3

Misato looked out over the lake, at the small fleet of salvage boats and the five wrecked buildings that stuck out of the water, three lying on their sides like beached whales, the tallest still lodged upside-down in the silt. She let out a deep sigh.

***

Psychiatric Observation Room 3

"So I offered to sub in instead." The Doctor sniffed. "Mind you, still not entirely sure why she thought this was necessary..." He held up his left hand, where a pair of handcuffs dangled between his wrist and the arm of the chair.

Shinji tried to sit up. The effort alone made his head spin.

"Ulp. Easy now, easy." The Doctor whistled. The remote responded with a musical note -- C-sharp or thereabouts. The back of the bed tilted upwards, raising Shinji into sitting position. "You've got aways to go before you're at one hundred percent again. Oxygen deprivation, dehydration, mild hypothermia... minimal brain damage, though, nothing you won't recover. Then there's you being a full nineteen hours older than the rest of us."

Shinji took a sip from the straw. He raised an eyebrow.

"They pulled the Eva's records." The Doctor studied the end of one of his knitting needles. "Seems time ran faster inside the Angel's pocket universe. Eight hours passed for us, twenty-seven for you. Best note that down somewhere. You'd be amazed the headaches that sort of thing can cause. Circadian rhythms, rescheduled birthdays, all of that..."

So they didn't forget about me after all, then, Shinji thought. Huh. He drank some more water.

"But never mind that! How about you, eh?" The Doctor grinned. "Surviving eleven hours without power, all by yourself! Rigging the hazmat up like that -- that was brilliant! Jim Lovell'd be proud."

"Did you know it could be used like that?" Shinji rasped. "The hazmat mask, I mean."

"Welllllll, not to brag or anything..." The Doctor smoothed his tie smugly.