Chapter Text
Mama died yesterday.
Or perhaps it was last month- no, three months ago. More? Hell knows, Mako stopped counting.
Mama was dead, and that’s all he knew.
The void she had left behind her was impossible to fill. Her absence itself was unbearable. Mama was dead. Mama was gone.
All that was left behind were photographs and a tombstone.
Here lies Kaia Rutledge, 2001-2052, wife, mother, friend.
The wind blew in the leaves of the gum trees. Dark brown eyes read over the epitaph over and over again. Mako still couldn’t believe it- it had been so long- it had been a year , now that he read the numbers on the grave, only a year, though grief still gripped at his guts.
He’d get over it, wouldn’t he? Surely he would. Not now, no, not now-
The air was crisp. Cool. The month of May always made Mako snarl- with its cold air and its rain. He glanced up from his mother’s grave to witness the grey clouds above. It had already rained earlier that day, right before Mako had driven off to the cemetery. The darkness of the late autumn afternoon was enough of a sign to remind the young man to return home to his father.
Shoving his hands into the pockets of a worn-out jacket, he cast one last glance to the grave before he turned away. His throat was dry. He was hungry. He wondered if there was anything for dinner. Footsteps crunched the gravel of the pathway that led to the cemetery’s gates, stopping before them as Mako glanced at the cabin where the keeper usually stayed. He wasn’t there. His assistant was- an Omnic. A mild-looking bot whose oculars glowed gently.
“The gate.”
Mako’s voice was gruff, low, but curiously vivacious. No hello , no please or thank you - bots didn’t need to be treated as peers. They were just there to do their job.
Jobs, Mako figured, that could’ve been given to Humans. A graveyard keeper? What the Hell did bots know about death, anyway?
The Omnic flinched a little, clearly feeling the young man’s animosity. He simply nodded and pressed a button to open the gate.
Without another word, Mako walked out and found his motorbike waiting for him where he had previously left it.
A large, calloused hand went over the dashboard, wiping away stray raindrops here and there before he hopped on and drove off.
Back to the place he called home.