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The duck pond was Rabbit's place.
It was an unspoken rule. Had been for-- years and years now. The Spine wasn't sure exactly when it became hers, just that it had been hers for as long as he could remember. And he felt like he could remember pretty far back. There are a lot of things he'd rather not remember, of course, from years long past...but that's another story for another day.
Presently-- The Spine was staring into his sister's mismatched optics, bright as always and tipped up towards him. Despite her ever-changing appearance, they were one thing that always stayed the same. That and her gorgeous smile. Even when twisted up in mischief, filling him with dread, he had to admit that it was still a better sight than most.
While the world does change, her smile stays the same. How appropriate, The Spine thought-- but he needed to stop distracting himself.
His own green photoreceptors, plus his hesitant and - frankly - startled expression conveyed his intense dubiousness, showed just how surprised he was by the offer just made. Had he heard the older 'bot correctly? Surely he hadn't.
"Rabbit-- did you just," but he wasn't allowed to finish.
"Yup! I w-wa-want'cha to come to the pond with me, Th'Spine," she chirped pleasantly, two copper digits idly playing with the strands of her new gold-and-brown hairpiece. "Won't'ya join me?"
The Spine couldn't help but feel like this is overstepping. Part of him wondered if she was testing him; she'd do that, right? No, not about this. Not about the pond. Rabbit was definitely a jokester, one to tease, but this was her special place and she wanted The Spine, of all people, to go there with her? What had he done to deserve something like that? To deserve this-- incredible privilege?
"If-- If you really want me to," he ended up saying, voice faltering a bit. That familiar catch which signaled his discomfort.
"I do," Rabbit returned simply, smile still genuine and warm. The Spine felt her hand slip around his own, so delicate in comparison...but pulsing faintly with the hydraulics that thrummed just under the plating. That familiar beat that often made The Spine think of humans, of their live hearts.
But then Rabbit began tugging him along, and he was snapped from his daydreams. He didn't mind her pulling him, of course-- she was a strong 'bot, definitely, but so was he, and she wouldn't really be able to hurt him unless she actively tried to do so. Plus, this was her show, not his, so he had no qualms with letting her take the lead.
They exited the Walter Manor from the front, rounding the building that way. Rabbit had dropped their hands down to rest between the two of them, swinging them a little as they walked, a soft hum rumbling in her throat. The Spine's eyes moved between her and the space in front of them, lingering on her pleasant expression and how she had to keep tucking flyaways behind her ears every few seconds. His sister was honestly precious-- he could see what the fans saw, knew why they thought her so cute. Because she really was. And he loved his sister dearly, though he rarely told her due to his immense awkwardness.
And that's when he realized she was talking. "...really think he'll be happy to see you," she'd been saying. Wait, who?
"Um-- who will be happy to see me, Rabbit?"
She looked up at him, a frown tugging at her lips now. "You w-we-we-weren't listen'in' to me."
"I'm sorry," he sighed, because he knew denying it wouldn't help at all. "I got distracted."
They were passing through the graveyard now. Rabbit hadn't answered The Spine, and he was about to prompt the question again when she suddenly stopped in her tracks. It took him a moment to realize what they stood in front of-- but he need only look down. Before them, an old but well-tended-to grave, with familiar words chiseled into it:
COLONEL PETER A. WALTER I
1864 - 1942
The Spine parted his silicon lips to ask Rabbit why she'd stopped to stare at a lifeless hunk of stone, but she - yet again - beat him to it. However, she wasn't speaking to him...but to said hunk of stone.
"Hiya, P-P-Pa-aaa-ppy." That smile of hers was more fond now, though The Spine could see the faintest amounts of sadness in her expression. "W-W-W-We had a concert at this convention last weekend. It was c-c-called Anime Midwest! I ha-a-a-ad a lot of fun, and the fans loved it. I think you'd'a been p-p-p-p-p-p-p-proud."
The Spine shifted his weight from foot to foot. Rabbit was still holding his hand, and he didn't know if she wanted him to let go...so he didn't, he held on while she continued to speak, the titanium 'bot trying to process what was happening. Because he didn't understand.
"Th'Spine's here with me, Pappy." The younger bot snapped to attention at that, looking up at his sister. Her optics are on the grave-- but it's just a grave, it's not him, why was she treating it like it was actually Colonel Walter? "He misses ya, too. I know he'd say so if he wasn't s-s-su-such a dummins."
He almost said something about the dummins comment-- but he held his tongue. Because he didn't want to interfere with her...moment, or whatever this was.
Rabbit kept on talking for a few moments longer, and then she pulled something from a little bag she carried: a bundle of flowers, fresh from the looks of it. Maybe Annie had bought them for her at the local florist’s. The copper ‘bot released The Spine’s hand - it felt so empty now - in favor of crouching by the grave and setting the flowers down just in front of the stone.
She mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out— but part of him swore he heard ‘I love ya, Pappy’.
And then she stood, and she took The Spine's hand again and kept leading towards the pond. And The Spine was stuck wondering what had just happened, if he'd malfunctioned and imagined all of that, because why would anyone talk to a gravestone like that? Colonel Walter was dead, and no amount of jabbering at his grave was going to get through to him. All that laid below those six feet of dirt was a coffin full of bones, clothes-- probably spiders...so why had Rabbit done it? He'd thought she was a more logical thinker than that.
They passed through more rows of graves; The Spine recognized each and every name, remembered the individual people those names belonged to. He almost never came down here, so it all felt very surreal-- like he was being flooded with so many memories all at once. He felt himself squeeze Rabbit's hand (an entirely subconscious action), and she immediately squeezed back, a silent agreement between the two of them.
The two automatons followed the old, ornate, twisting metal fence for a little longer before the arrived at the pond. It curled around one of the corners of the garden, with one rickety old bench positioned near the right end. But Rabbit didn't go for the bench - she never did - and instead settled on her knees by the nearest edge, careful to pick up her skirt and petticoat so they didn't catch under her heavy copper limbs. The Spine hesitated a moment before joining her, stooping onto one titanium knee at her side.
Rabbit pulled something else from her bag then: a full loaf of bread. The Spine couldn't help but laugh, however quietly, and imagined Steve discovering the loaf missing later. He'd be pretty annoyed, and rightfully so-- but The Spine would cover for Rabbit, as he always did, despite knowing he shouldn't.
A few ducks had already settled themselves in the lake-- and one or two actually looked up when they heard the crinkle of plastic as the older 'bot pulled out two pieces.
She offered one to The Spine, and he took it a tinge reluctantly. "Er-- how, exactly, do I do this?"
"It's su-su-su-su-su-super easy, Th'Spine, promise." She tore a small piece off of her slice, setting the remainder on her knee. Almost instantly, one of the little mallard ducks was toddling towards her, having hopped out of the lake. He was dripping water, emerald-colored head shimmering in the late afternoon sunshine. He came up to Rabbit with absolutely no fear, and she held her hand out palm-up with the morsel settled on the backs of her copper digits.
The duck ate up happily, and then a couple more began to approach. Rabbit was smiling pleasantly, looking incredibly content, and after feeding the few ducks what she had of the one slice, she turned her head towards The Spine. "O-O-Okay. I want'cha to get a piece n' hold yer hand out l-li-like I did, alright? N'Stay still! You'll scare 'em otherwise."
The Spine, swallowing his nerves, nodded. What if the ducks didn't like him? But he clearly wasn't getting out of this, so he just did as he was told and held out one rubber-coated hand.
Rabbit scooted back a bit, grabbing another piece of bread from the plastic packaging. The ducks followed her, but she diverted their attention when she started laying chunks on the ground in-- in a line? The Spine's brows furrowed as he watched her create a line from where the ducks were...over to him.
One of the ducks pecked up the line, quacking all the way. The titanium 'bot felt a copper hand steady his wrist, lower his palm a bit, and - to his astonishment - when the female mallard reached the end of the line, she hopped right up and ate out of his hand.
He was grinning, and didn't realize it until Rabbit grinned right back-- and they laughed together, because he'd done it! He'd fed the duck, and it hadn't run away or bit him or anything like that. He was so proud of himself. And, though Rabbit wouldn't ever admit it...she was proud of him, too.
Rabbit relaxed her posture again, continuing to feed the ducks as they wandered up to her. The Spine focused on feeding the one Rabbit had led to him, since the female mallard seemed to trust him a bit more now. She was still timid, not appreciative of any sudden movements, but she didn't run.
And they sat like that for a bit, in contented silence. But The Spine couldn't keep his thoughts to himself for too much longer. Because Rabbit's actions at Peter I's grave still confused him, and he needed answers.
"Do you always talk to Colonel Walter's gravestone like that?" It came out louder, more blurted, than he would have liked, but there wasn't much he could do about it now that he'd already said it.
Rabbit's head lifted, and she paused for a moment, looking genuinely confused. "Um-- yeah, of course I do, Th'Spine."
The Spine blinked, optics flashing behind titanium eyelids. "I-- er. I just didn't, uh, know that you--"
But Rabbit cut him off, suddenly looking defensive, "Don't tell me it's stupid. 'Cause it's n-n-n-not."
The Spine was floundering. "I-- no! No, Rabbit, I would never."
"S'what it sounds like." She rested her chin on her knees, not looking at him anymore, and he felt like a complete asshole.
"I--" Where were his words? Where was the 'bot who had written songs such as Me and My Baby, Clockwork Vaudeville? The 'bot who expressed himself in a strictly articulate, thorough manner? All of that seemed to have flown right out the window. "I...just didn't understand it."
"Understand what?" She seemed confused again. Damnit, he needed to figure out how to say this.
"Why-- talk to his grave? It's not him..." No, no, too insensitive! He huffed steam through his nose, "I mean, I just. Didn't. Understand why you'd-..."
Rabbit looked up again, expression no longer pouty or otherwise hurt. A slight bit of understanding seemed to color her features, actually, and she scooted a little closer to The Spine, resting her hand over the closer of his. "I do it 'cause it makes me feel better," she said, slowly. "M-M-M-Mi-Miss Iris and I...came out here once, a long time a-ago, a lil' af'ta Pappy died. N'she-- she started talkin' to him, and I didn't get it then, either. But she said it's...how humans cope. They-- talk to the people they lost 'cause...'cause it makes 'em feel a lil' less far away."
The Spine doesn't say anything-- just processing what he'd been told, thinking over the words. He wasn't sure what he's supposed to say, really, though he did understand this whole thing a bit better now.
"Don't'cha ever talk to him, Th'Spine?" Rabbit asked suddenly. "Even a lil' bit? To yourself? Like-- Like a pr...pra..."
"Prayer," The Spine finished for her, and she nodded vigorously. "That! Yeah. Don't'cha ever d-d-do that sometimes?"
The titanium 'bot felt an abrupt wave of shame pass over him. "I...think about him a lot. But I've never...'spoken'," his fingers hook into airquotes, "with him."
The hand she still had on The Spine's curled around his, and she stood, tugging him up with her. "C'mon, Th'Spine."
"Wha--" He barely got the whole word out before she started pulling him back towards the graves. He struggled minutely, but she didn't let up, bringing him over to Peter I's headstone again. The flowers were still there-- and The Spine just noticed then that they were blue and white, with baby's breath complimenting the larger flowers very well and a black ribbon tying the stems together. It was kind of adorable.
"Jus' say somethin'," Rabbit told him, touching his shoulder. "It's reaaal easy."
He rubbed at his arm with the opposite hand, shifting uncomfortably. "Are you sure--"
"Jus' do it, y'dummins."
The Spine puffed a distressed cloud of steam. "Mm. Er…hello, Colonel.”
Rabbit rolled her eyes, squeezing that shoulder. “C’mon, call ‘im ‘Pappy’, he deserves that much.”
"Uh…Pappy." The word tasted so foreign, but he supposed it had a certain warmth to it. "I…hope you’re…doing alright— oh, come on, Rabbit, this is ridiculous—"
"Oh, so it’s ridiculous when you do it, but not when I do?"
"No—! Just—"
"Stop being a dummins and just talk to the guy." Three times. Three times, she'd called him a dummins today.
But, just like the dummins he truly was, it still took him a few minutes of fumbling to actually pick up any sort of 'conversation' with Peter I. It was, naturally, one-sided and horribly uncomfortable, but...it seemed to provide some relief for The Spine. A knotted up part of his metaphorical heart soothed over by this strange yet therapeutic encounter. And Rabbit appeared to pick up on that, smiling lovingly at him as she took one of his arms between her own and hugged it to her. She leaned into him gently, just listening and comforting him as he needed it.
The Spine didn't expect to cry, and yet he started to, out of nowhere. The oil tears hit him like a freight train to the chestplate. Rabbit reached over his chest to pull out his pocket square, unfolding it deftly (she'd done this before). She wiped those black trails away with it, and he tried to turn his head away, however half-heartedly-- but she hushed him and cleaned up the rest of his faceplate. He felt incredibly embarrassed, but he didn't say anything, didn't complain. Because Rabbit was being so sweet, and he couldn't possibly tell her to stop.
He felt hands leading him, urging him to move, and he didn't argue, because they were moving away from the grave now-- and soon they were back at the pond, sitting down on the bank with their sides pressed up against each other's. Rabbit tugged the discarded loaf of bread closer (a few whole pieces were gone now, greedy little things) and handed The Spine a slice, taking one of her own.
They fed the mallards in silence for a bit before The Spine heard his sister say something, quiet and almost wistful--
"Pappy really liked ducks."
And, all at once, everything made sense.