Chapter Text
Mako can hardly believe that it’s over.
The first few days felt almost too good to be true, and she’d remained on edge, cautiously optimistic but ready if the kaiju returned. Then a week passed, and then two, and now she’s starting to accept that they may really be gone for good.
Tributes have begun to spring up around Hong Kong, especially by the water, where people leave things like flowers, candles, and handwritten thank you notes to the fallen rangers. There’s one at the Shatterdome too, which some are calling the Hall of Heroes. Lining the wall are photographs of all the pilots lost in those final battles, and similar tributes beneath each one. It reminds Mako of the shrine her parents used to have at home.
Beneath her father’s portrait, she leaves a small red shoe.
She has yet to hear from Jake, though surely he must have seen the news by now. It’s not unlike him to take his time contacting her, but his relationship with their father was always complicated, and Mako wants to make sure he’s all right. She’s left messages, urging him to call her, and will keep trying, every day if she has to, until she reaches her brother.
Raleigh has been by her side almost constantly, providing support, distractions, whatever she needs. Even when they’re apart it’s as if he’s still there with her, so Mako is never truly alone. What a strange and wonderful sensation.
The next time she finds herself in the city, it’s to accompany him to a doctor’s appointment—they’ve both had to be examined, after their exposure to the radiation of the Anteverse, beyond what tests the PPDC could perform in their infirmary. Mako has received a clean bill of health, but Raleigh required a few more tests. She tries very hard not to think about what that might mean, and instead hopes for the best.
Neither of them enjoys being at the hospital, so he’d insisted that she wait for him outside. Walking to the park a few blocks away, Mako spies one of those tributes, and stops at a nearby florist. She exits the shop with a small bouquet of sunflowers; her father always liked these. Clutching them to her chest, she approaches the tribute, moved by how many people have come to pay their respects.
Carefully, Mako lays the flowers with the others, next to a small plush bulldog that looks identical to Max. She wonders if it’s from Marshal Hansen, or someone else. Bowing her head, she takes a silent moment to acknowledge the dead, and their sacrifices. The world would not still be here without them, and she vows to live each day to the fullest in thanks.
Straightening up, she notices a young boy staring at her from across the street. He whispers something to his mother, tugging her hand, and she looks over to Mako, eyes widening. Mako is not yet accustomed to being recognized, and smiles shyly at them. The woman smiles back warmly, nodding with gratitude. Mako’s smile grows as she returns the nod, before mother and child continue on their way.
“All good?”
Mako turns to see Raleigh walking toward her. She’d felt him approaching even before he spoke. “Yes. And you?”
“Real good,” he says, grinning. “My results came back negative, I’m all clear.”
She lets out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. “That’s wonderful news!”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I think this calls for a celebration, don’t you?”
“Of course. What did you have in mind?"
She expects him to suggest something like street food or champagne, but instead he says, "How about a vacation? I think we’ve earned one.”
A vacation. Mako can’t remember the last time she took one.
“I’ve been wanting to go back to Anchorage and visit my sister,” Raleigh continues. “I’d love for you to meet her.”
Mako had glimpsed Jazmine Becket in his memories, and knows that he misses her terribly. She would also likely benefit from a change of scenery. “I would like that very much.”
“Great!” Raleigh finally stops to look at the tribute, and his mood sombers somewhat. “These things are everywhere, huh?”
“I think they’re beautiful.”
Raleigh is silent, and Mako doesn’t need the Drift to feel the mix of emotions warring within him. Reaching over, she takes one of his hands, squeezing it tightly, as they contemplate the tribute, and the city that surrounds it.
Even amid the destruction, the sun is shining, people mill about the streets, life continues. The human race endures.
This is what they fought for.
“Come,” she says, “let’s go home.”