Archive of Our Own

they drove until the sky above turned to ink.

until the relentless, broiling sun dipped it’s last corner under the open plane. until the blue slowly turned into a gradual navy, purples and dark reds on the horizon. until they were sure, all they could hear was the enormous silence around their tiny spec.

her grip stays tight on the wheel the whole time. her eyes never leave the road. she can feel a tiny trickle of blood running down the back of her neck, specs of dirt crumbling from her hair.

her heart thunders loudly in her ears. she doesn’t stop.

not until she’s sure, they’ve lost him.

they don’t say anything either. only one shared glance the second the car was racing off - double checking, that they were weren’t injured enough to render them incapacitated at the wheel, secured with a mutual nod. she knew how to read him, by now; the steady assurance in his eyes. and she knew he could read her too. after barely escaping without their bodies mangled across the desert sand, she was happy not to talk.

he only spoke twice, in the medium of those five hours. once, during the first hour -

you’re banged up. sure you don’t want to stop to clean any damage?

I’m fine.

you could be bleeding. could get infected.

nothing I haven’t dealt with.

and he left it at that, his gaze out the window. he trusted her, to know her own injuries. trusted her, to know her own limits. and if she said she was fine, it wasn’t in him to push.

then twice, a few more hours in -

we should switch off soon.

only another hour till dusk, then we can stop. we got another day’s worth of gas for the car tomorrow for you to drive.

she wasn’t going to stop and let him catch up to them. that was it.

so they drove. drove on nothing but the landscape and instinct. as furiosa gripped the wheel, she tilted her forearm up - the star-map pointed towards the sunbeams. the sole guiding light, besides her own intuition.

her own heart and the invisible, magnetic pull driving her forwards. home.

they do eventually stop, just for rest. no fire in case it attracted eyes; only them, laying weary bodies on the car hood, a small lantern at their feet. they’d dressed and cleaned any wounds. when jack saw the drippings of blood across her neck, she could feel the harsh gaze searing in behind her, scrubbing away what he could. she was covered in bruises from taking that fall, but thankfully, no broken bones. he wasn’t much worse for wear, wrapping up a couple scrapes and scabs on his arms and legs.

despite it all, they’d made it. despite dementus’s snarling, desperate claws, they’d slipped away.

she wasn’t ready to call it victory yet. not until she could plant her feet on green grass. until she could sink her hands in a crystal clear pool of water. until, she found all the faces who once coddled her as a child.

they sit in a peaceful quiet. the stars are a dotted smattering above them, glistening. each a shining piece. her eyes traced every constellation. all the ones she’d grown up knowing - the memory of her mother’s warm and sure hand on her back, worn hands weaving the star patterns in front of her to memorize. even some jack taught her; stars used as stationary posts, so if they were got lost on a run, they could know where they were. they'd already had their 'dinner'; or what constituted dinner, which was a can each of expired beans. furiosa scrapped the bottom of her nearly empty can with the lid she'd bent into a spoon, wondering if she could get one more mouthful of the bland sludge inside.

‘you’re not tired yet?..’ the low, gruff voice floated into her bubble, bringing her back ‘you drove all day..’

he’d been all but still beside her, having put aside his own empty can. his leg, the rugged workmans pants, brushing against her own tattered ones. it wasn’t a large car, so they sat shoulder to shoulder, the faint warmth of his body leaking into hers. furiosa didn’t mind it. if she was being honest with herself, she felt a muted, low burning draw towards him; to lean in, to somehow be closer.

she didn’t completely understand it. jack could be a confusing figure to her, sometimes. the gentle relief of a trust built up, and yet, frightening her, with the need it brings to shed her walls to pull him in. it would scare her more, if she didn’t trust him so deeply.

that night in the citadel, soaking in the warmth of his forehead pressed to hers amungst the cold winds, was the only time she’d allowed it. of course, having a slip of softness was what made her crave it more.

here, it the unforgiving desert however, she wouldn’t allow it to distract her, stamping out any burning want.

‘it’s nothing..’ she murmured, eyes glued up above as she stirred. she’d always, secretly, loved the canopy of stars. the wasteland was only something to behold at night.

‘mapping our route for tomorrow?..’

‘eyeing constellations..’

‘...’

‘...’

‘..furiosa.’

it was his tone that got her head to turn. something serious, sending a sharp pit spiking in her gut.

what was wrong? did he see something? was this the moment, he decided to turn around? she felt sick, somehow unable to stomach the idea of him leaving.

the wasteland had taught jack the same it’d taught her - to never reveal. to never show what you really felt, less someone twist it. but, if you knew them well enough, you could find it. his gaze was darkened, furrowed at her. angry, but not the kind that would lash out.

‘..you shouldn’t have done that.’

she stiffened. defenses rise, without meaning to. she tears her gaze away from his, trying to pry him off. saying nothing by letting the emptiness sit around them. staring down at her mostly empty can, furiosa gave up trying to scrape together another morsel, pushing it aside. she didn't want to risk tossing it out into the desert less someone sniff out their scraps and follow their trail.

‘I don’t remember needing an order for that.’

silence. it wrapped around, squeezing too tight.

‘this isn’t about orders. it was about your life.’

that hit a strike. her head spun right back to him, hair flying around to smack against her cheek. how dare he pretend to be so noble, like her life meant more then his.

furiosa knew though, that jack never pretends. he was just a noble man.

‘and yours?’ she countered.

‘..I’m not the one with a home to return to.’ he muttered low ‘my journey is all but settled. yours isn’t, and you were risking it.’

‘it was my risk to take. now...yours is being re-exhumed, regardless if you care for it..’

‘clearly.’ he perked a brow, a smidge of amusement that settled her flames, pulling herself back, he meant no ill will ‘..you came back for me. I just wanted...’

she already knew what he was trying to say, eyes cast from hers. the words too big, too much. and she couldn’t stand it. there was not praise, or even a thanks, that she could take. not from him.

‘don’t.’ she cut him off curtly. a pause, and then, a barely-there nod, avoiding her eyes the same.

she wouldn’t hear it from him. for many reasons, but the one that rang loudest -

because he saved her life first.

by going back for her on that lone road. hot, long day drives fighting off any human buzzards trying to take over the rig, to cooler nights under the citadel, bent over the machinery, elbow deep in grease and tools in hand, following his muttered instructions with nothing but silent steadfast attention. overtime, where it became just them, and, with even more time, when furiosa began to be grateful for it.

she’d met many kinds of men in this horrid dessert. all of them were the same kind of despicable. who take and hurt until it simply becomes a rinse and repeat.

jack was the first one who gave her something. and took nothing.

if you survive everything we take on together, you’ll have all the skills you need to go wherever you want to go.

if this were another world, maybe she could tell him that. maybe, they could afford that, or she had the emotional forfeiture to be able to speak it. right now, it could only go unsaid.

but, perhaps that was for the better. so much of them was unsaid. not because they were trying to hide it. because they didn’t need to speak it.

and that’s all furiosa needed, for now.

‘..this place we’re goin’ to..’ he tilted his steady gaze back to her ‘does it have a name?..’

she seized up again, internally. part of her, really wanted to speak the words. to let him in. after all, what was the point in shielding the name when she was bringing him there anyway? instead of being hoarded, it could be something shared between them.

the thing was though, it’d been furiosa’s secret for so long. clutched so tightly to her chest - her one spark, in this wasteland of dark. she’d know, he’d protect it; there was no hesitancy in him. it was only her - was she willing to offer it?

her silence offered the answer. she pressed her lips together, almost willing them to make the syllables, but they wouldn’t come. she simply ducked from his eyes. in time, so did he, quietly accepting his offered hand being pushed away. this time, it stung furiosa more then before.

‘...I’m sorry.’ is what she offers instead, barely a whisper ‘I..I was always told...I couldn’t..’

‘don’t worry about it.’ there’s a rare glimpse of that quiet smile, flicking at the corner of his mouth ‘I guess I’ll just have to find out myself. it’ll keep the suspense alive.’

always patient, always willing for her. she only nods at his attempts to lighten the air. that’s all they could do for now.

jack sighed out, thick shoulders lifting and sinking. he leaned further back against the car mirror, gaze rising to the stars - heavy eyes, under the furrowed brow and black smear of motor oil.

‘probably best to try and sleep. got a long ride ahead. I can take first watch, if you want..’

when she didn’t object, he knew it meant a quietly appreciated thanks. slowly, furiosa leaned back too, laying beside him, shoulders brushing. quiet settled in, leaving nothing but the stars overhead, sending down their last bits of light. she wanted to settle, but couldn’t. she lingered, gaze roaming out to the dark desert. honing for anything. a sharp sound, the low motor rumbling, the -

‘look at that.’ jack murmured, her head snapping up to the sky ‘cassieopa is already out..’

‘lacerta.’ furiosa corrected, leaning her head away again. she saw it earlier.

‘no. cassieopa. see, it’s M shape..’

she furrowed. snapped back, glaring up at the dotted ink above. a second look, and he was right - it was more of a pointed M shape, similar but not matching lacerta’s zig-zag shape.

‘oh..’ she blinked, settling back down ‘right. I..I missed it.’

a very, very light huff shot by her ear.

‘what happened, eagle eyes? loosing your sharpness?’

another dry huff, from her. it almost surprised her; she can’t remember, any time she’d laughed, if you could call it that. her head lolled back, eyelids drooping. gradually, her body began to crash, falling against his, head resting on worn shoulder pads. the trademarked scent of him, oil and musk tied with the traces of cracked leather, coaxed her, wrapping her up like a blanket. she knew that if something were to stir, jack would catch it.

‘the road is gettin’ to you. better try to recharge..’

another warm huff of breath, ghosted over the top of her head. the last words she heard before easily slipping into slumber.

-

‘see anything yet?’

she already reads his underlining. yet. she’d had the binoculars glued to her face all morning; since they woke up to orange hues of the sun cresting over the earth to now, all packed up with jack, canister in hand, topping off the car. meanwhile she’d stayed perched, narrowed in on the horizon.

nothing. not even a peep.

it wasn’t odd for the wasteland to be silent, when there were no clashes. after all, you can go days and days without encountering another soul. it wasn’t other adversaries though, that were worrying furiosa.

it was that they got off too good.

she knew dementus. she knew his black, angry, empty need to hurt. she saw it, over and over and over and over. she saw it by force; gnarled hands clamped harshly on the sides of her small head, not allowing her to squirm away, only cry silently as she watched his hounds eat alive, the new recruit who tried to sneak off food while he screamed.

this is a lesson, little d! stay in your ol' big d's good graces, and you'll have no trouble!

all she did have was trouble.

now, her and jack had sunk his oh-so-desired gastown to the ground and run off. even if he'd succumbed to his injuries, even if he'd collapsed with the crumbling tower -

that kind of darkness would only embolden him.

'we haven't seen him.' furiosa muttered, hearing the scuff of jack's boots approach her 'not even one of his men followed..'

'isn't that suppose to be a good thing? if we haven't heard anything, I'm pretty sure they fell into the pit..'

her grip tightened, brittle fingernails biting into the metal and knuckles turning white. she can't believe it. not without proof.

'I know him.' she grits out 'he'll chase after us with any chance he's got..'

'dementus is a brute, but he's also foolish. and if a man is without an army, he won't get very far.'

no reply. furiosa re-scanned the planes, looking for any single spec. he had to be out here. and when he made his favourite grand entrance, this time, she'll be ready for him.

the steel, knuckled handle of her knife pressed into her waist where it was sheathed. her blood broils just under her skin. her fingers itch.

in the back of her mind, behind her rational, she sees her mother's body twisted beyond repair. her wrung neck. her words are thunder inside her head, bringing with it the memory of her forehead pressed to her own.

you keep going, and whatever you do, don't stop. I'll follow behind you.

suddenly, warm, sure fingertips press lightly to her back,

'furiosa..we have to go if we're -'

'no!' she whirled, snapping her teeth at him 'I'm not letting him catch up this time! I'm not letting that bastard go!'

'he's dead furiosa..'

'he can't be!'

'why?'

'because I was suppose to kill him!!'

he blinked back, suddenly straightening. saying nothing, just watching her, close at attention as she seethed heavily, fists trembling.

it can't end like this. it can't.

'for my mother! for everything! for every piece he took, for every scar, it was suppose to be by my hand! and-and now..he..he..’

she spun, throwing the binoculars and hearing them clang against the car hood loudly. words and thoughts and memories smeared together ('this is your mother, hm?!') and it was too much.

she collapsed in.

her knees hit the hot sand all at once. she folded into herself, hands in hair, grasping onto anything. and screamed, the out pour of pain echoing across the empty canyons.

he was gone. but the anger had remained a thick armed choke hold around her child neck.

she hadn't cried since she was a child. not since the night ricktus took her; alone and trapped, desperately trying to hide herself and holding onto that faulty child innocence, that somehow, her mother would appear and take her home.

but she never would. and instead, furiosa had to learn to dry her own tears, bite them back on nights bunking with her fellow gearheads - until she could hide it perfectly.

she couldn't hide it anymore. droplets ran down her cheeks, making clean tracks down the dirt smeared by her chin. her grief was unspooling and she couldn't catch it. she would never get her justice. she would never amend what happened to her beloved mother.

she felt something worn and heavy made of leather, drape across her back. wrapping around her, cocooning her in. a steady arm fell over her shoulders, holding tight. holding her close. without warning, she crashed into his side, pressing wet cheeks into his shoulder.

furiosa wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. forever, it felt; time melted for her, wrapped close around him, tucked away from the harshness that lay outside. jack said nothing, did nothing but allow her the space for her pain to fizzle away. she could feel, his nose pressed into the top of her head, his puffs of breath - in and out, in and out. soon, she fell in tandem with him, her tears starting to recede.

slowly, she crawled back to him from the edge of the cliff.

they both pulled away at the same time, foreheads lingering close. furiosa could feel his eyes on her, but couldn’t bare to look up at him yet, instead left staring at her lap. with one hand still lingering on her back, his other slid around, rough fingers gliding over her map of home she’d tattooed to her skin.

‘..you know, I had a feeling you didn’t up and leave your home on your own..’ he said, flicking his eyes to try and find hers ‘..it was him?..’

she nodded, swallowing harshly.

‘how old were you?..’

‘..young, but old enough to remember every piece of it..’

he sat with that. sighed heavily. furiosa knew, it wasn’t pity, that darkened his brow. just anger, because jack was still one of the few men left who would ask, who’d do that to a child?

‘..my mother..she tried to save me, but he...’ she didn’t need to speak aloud the violence of her mother’s death to fill that space, left to wince ‘...she was an incredible fighter. fought valiantly to protect our home, to bring me back. she tried so hard, to get me home and he..he killed her, taking and destroying everything so I couldn’t make it home..’

her fists tightened so hard nails were biting into her palm. she shook, almost violently, ready to implode like an over-eager war boy’s boom-stick. she just didn’t know if she wanted to punch or sob.

hands clasped both her shoulders. finally furiosa looks up and catches the gentle blue under the dark brow. holding her up, keeping her steady. it was as if her lungs finally opened back up, allowing her a breath.

‘not all of it. he didn’t take all of it.’ he murmured, tilting slight so their foreheads bumped, meeting each others ‘you’re just a little late.’

furiosa squeezed her eyes tight, desperately holding down another sob that wanted to shatter her. hot tears fell down anyway, revealing what she hated most. he wasn’t afraid though. his hand slipped from her shoulder and carefully, taking just the slightest of pause to be sure she was okay with it, clasped her cheek. the fresh, clean tears smeared against his dirty hands, but he didn’t pull away, or even try to wipe them gone.

simply let them be.

her hand snapped up, grabbing the back of his head. her fingers sunk into thick, slicked back hair, foreheads together and this time, holding him as close as she could get. in return, his hand quietly slid from her cheek, carefully cupping the back of her own head, sure but gentle.

they stayed like that, breathing each other in. until she felt steady again. when she could find her voice, it nearly trembled.

‘you’re right. we should leave before it’s too late.’

he simply nodded. didn’t rush to leave, but didn’t need to pull her back, to obsessively check if she was okay. they both knew she wasn’t really, but if she fell again, he’d be there to catch her. that was all she needed.

they pulled away, rising to their feet. furiosa let gravity slide the heavy jacket from her shoulders, taking it before it fell and passing it back. he gave it a quick shake, threw it on, and took in a breath.

‘my turn to drive. we’ll have to step on it, to make ground before dusk hits..’

furiosa breathed in too, the air sweeping through her. ready to try again. she saw jack pivot towards the car -

her hand jumped again, grasping his arm.

he pivoted right back, brow arched at her. sinking into his gaze, she swallowed the lump in her throat - calling upon the words and this time, bringing them to her lips.

‘...the green place.’

‘..what?’

‘it’s called the green place.’ she whispered, as if the wind might grasp onto the name and carry it away to unsafe ears ‘..it’s what we all called it. green, shared with everyone, as far as you can see..’

the idea of green, anywhere, in a land such as this - it’s a miracle difficult for anyone scrounging in this dessert to image. a tiny offering of hope. she’d been scared, to place it in anyone else’s hands.

when another smile flicked over chapped lips, furiosa knew, she’d done right.

-

when you weren’t duel-handing supplies and weapons, life on the road was almost boring.

the dessert was endless. one could spiral, gaze pouring out into nothing but oblivion and sand. time lasted forever and the only way you knew when it passed was when the sun reached the earth.

furiosa had grown used to road travel though. enough times and she could guess by the way the sunbeams hit the metal car hood, when they shone at the car mirrors, how many hours had passed.

taking a guess, they’d been travelling about two days now. jack was steady at the wheel, as always - gaze peering out to the open land, and hers on him and way he never strayed. she tried to make herself useful; after sleeping away a couple hours at his encouragement, she’d done inventory of their remaining supplies. she kept herself occupied by the guns in her lap and the old, torn duffle bag that carried bullets, reloading cartridges .

now, she was left to do the same - stare ahead. her eyes slid away eventually and over to him, upright and hands tight on the wheel.

furiosa watched, as if committing him to memory. the slicked hair damped by oil, the way it was tucked behind his ear. a thick brow, always concentrated. the bristled hairs of a faint shadow on his jaw, showing attempts to try and shave, bare with probably just his pocket knife. faintly, under the popped collar of his trusted jacket, she could see the burn mark on the back of his neck. the same that matched hers.

the world of war and the citadel and survival demanded you become manic, shook you by the throat until you threw yourself down in blood. but not jack. that remained one of the biggest questions.

her lingering was caught. he briefly flicked his eyes to her at passenger side.

‘..care to say what you’re thinking about?’

‘you.’ she admitted, watching the faintest flicker of surprise make his brow twitch ‘and your home..’

‘that place?..’ he grunted ‘I’m happy to leave it behind..’

‘not the citadel. where you came from, where you born. and why..you couldn’t return..’

it’d be foolish, to otherwise assume he could. if he have a place of return, why else would he agree to go with her? clearly though, he had to come from somewhere, and her curiosity was biting at her. while he dared to offer more words then she did, there was still a lot hidden. he took in a breath, tapping rough fingerpads along the wheel.

‘my home...it was never really a place.’

‘your parents?...’

‘..you’ll get a kick out of this.’ he chided, making her eyebrow curve up at him ‘I was actually born on the road; somewhere within the wastelands. great way to start off my job, huh? born for it..’

‘but, your family..’

‘..my parents belonged to a colony, but, it didn’t last. when my mom was pregnant, everything collapsed; too small, not enough people, not enough resources, and soon everyone was after one another my dad said. maiming the people they shared ground with, eating whatever was left. sometimes each other.’

furiosa flinched internally, her memory forced to the depravity of the citadel’s underground. and the moment as a child she nearly saw it upclose, remembering the bony hands clutched on her ankles, trying to pull her away from dementus’s men and dragging her further into the dark hole. she’ll never forget the smell of it.

‘so, dad had to get her, me and himself out of there. they took what they could and hotwheeled a ride, and no further then a few days, I was born under the open sun. we moved around, with different groups, different people, trying to make our way of it as I grew up. but you know as well as I, no one survives out here alone - not without someone who could get you the resources. my parents..they saw the depravity around them, as did I. they still had this idea, that somehow...humanity could find it’s way out of this, and that they could be the ones to help. call it’s a fool’s idea, folly, but..’

he sighed out again. it’s not foolish she wanted to say. it’s difficult, it’s bloody, it’s almost impossible to do - but it wasn’t completely foolish, to hold onto that spark.

if it was, they wouldn’t be here.

‘eventually, it led them to the citadel.’

‘how old were you?..’

he shrugged ‘ nine, maybe? days start to fade together. when we arrived, I remember, we met this man named joe..’

she shifted, straightening up. he glanced at her, sharing her knowing look, before returning to the road.

‘he was the man in charge. he’d started this empire; green he’d started to grow, a plan to pull water from under the earth, had a full army under his thumb. he told my dad..that he’d have enough resources for all, and, with others working at his side, he sold the idea that he could change the world back to a place of splendour..’

a burning lick of anger struck furiosa, her fists curling. that lying, bastard of a man..

‘at the time, the citadel wasn’t what it was, it was just beginning. a new call to hope. so my parents were sold. they did his bidding - worked on the machines, fought to protect the castle from enemies, used their valency at his bidding. I grew up alongside some of the warboys, helping my parents with the machines..’

so that’s how he knew the citadel so well. furiosa had always wondered, about the almost lackadaisical freedom joe gave to jack, allowed to run the warlord’s cars freely and trusting him with the sacred deals. not only was he a skilled fighter, but he’d been forcibly loyal to joe his whole life.

‘but..things did not fall together the way we’d been told. the promises, of water restored, of growing our earth back..they were all fallacies. he had no intention to share these things, and overtime, this man named joe became the warlord immortan. instead, water and food was to be bartered and sold for weapons, and the rest, gobbled up by him and his men. my parents watched it happen, watched him throw desperate people out of his castle once they couldn’t provide, and leave starving bodies to rot in the sun. it angered them, more then anything else they’d gone through - and they weren’t the only ones who’d been lied to. but my father was the only man brave enough to defy it; he knew it was wrong. when he dared to stand up to immortan joe, he was killed. shot point blank between the eyes.’

there was only one way for him to have known that - if he saw it. suddenly, the image of a young boy watching blood splatter out the back of the head of the man who loved him, his father’s name echoing out, flooded furiosa. she’d seen plenty of blood and loss in the wasteland that breeds apathy, but this seized her.

maybe because she knew, what it was like to scream for your parent as you watched them take their last breath.

his hand resting on the gearshift, she instead grasped his wrist, squeezing. she felt him stiffen, and then relax against her.

‘...my mother..’ she murmured ‘..I saw it too...’

he took in a low breath. looked to her again, locking eyes as she held onto him. a quiet acknowledgement.

‘...then you know, that’s a lesson a kid never forgets. my mom, she still had to worry about me, so she swallowed her grief and kept our heads low, working on the cars and running missions. she was eventually killed too when I was about seventeen, in a mission shoot-out gone wrong. I wasn’t even there to see it; instead, a bloodied warboy came back driving her truck. but, throughout that..she never gave up on the ideas her and my father shared. of being a valiant warrior. even when my dad got shot for it, she told me still, to hold onto that. I could become a false idol who only takes like the one they ended up serving, or, I could strive for something better, even at a deep risk. at the time I thought she was insane for it - I just needed to keep out of the way and survive. but..you see enough of the same horror they saw...you start to want to believe in something too..’

I want to help you get there.

pieces started to fall together. no wonder, he was so unlike any man she had met out here. he’d had a love that raised him.

just as she had had in her mother.

she was still grasping onto him. maybe earlier, she would’ve let it drop, afraid of the warm it gave her. afraid of the simple gentleness it brought her, and a desire to pull him closer that she was too afraid to look at it.

rather, she quieted her thoughts. let her palm rest over his knuckles, fingers dipping in between his.

‘..you’ve honoured them well.’

and he had. if they still walked among the living, if she had the words to unfold her heart - furiosa would tell them about the magnificent valiancy they’ve given in their son, and the hope he has given her in turn.

jack didn’t say anything for a while. nor did furiosa expect him to speak on the heavy air around them. when she finally slid her hand back into her lap, he turned with a quiet but warm voice,

‘well, guess we’ll know when we get there, huh?..’

-

this shouldn’t have happened. they’re trained. they’ve both, fought tooth and nail out of many attacks. honed on how to anticipate any minute movement before the strike.

so how the fuck did she miss it?

after driving for so long, the massive, rock slab that made up the cavern impasse started to form in the distance. it would mean soon they’d have to ditch the car, repackage the supplies and switch to the bikes. but having escaped unscathed under joe and dementus’s noses, the trek had been going good for too long

the ambush was sudden. the home-made tinker bombs blew craters in the sand in front of them, seconds before jack was able to swerve the car. in a blink her sniper was in her hand - getting a couple heads, and taking out the wheels of those she missed. but, the mercenaries were happy to fight on foot, practically clawing off their car doors to drag them out.

they had the upperhand, but not the skills. her fists were too fast, knuckles colliding into bone, and when he was reeling back in blood, she took the gun to his throat. the clap of the bullet hadn’t even faded before she turned to jack - seeing his own mercenary knocked out in front of his trembling frame, a hand purple and bruised across his fingers, and the knife four inches deep in his abdomen.

he was loosing too much blood. she was scrambling. he laid out like a limp doll on the car hood, red smearing down the chrome and her hands. she kept trying to stop it, trying to apply pressure as the blood kept leaking through, trying trying trying. it wouldn’t stop. she was breathing too fast.

‘I just..I..’ she spun on her heels, eyes darting wildly as if the perfect solution would appear in front of her ‘I just - I just need to stop the blood -’

‘furiosa...’ his voice was awful, scratchy and shaking ‘you..you need to leave before....before anyone else...’

‘shut up!’ she snapped, fear jumping up her throat because she already knew what he was trying to get at; the same wordless message he gave when she saw the puff of green powder explode above her head.

and there’d be none of that.

her gaze lands on the lifeless men, face down in the sand. one still had his weapon strapped to his back, a sort of rifle he’d crudely tied a long knife to at the end to make a bayonnet. that’s it.

she leapt. the knife was barely secured to the metal rod and pulled away easily. furiosa yanked off the man’s jacket next, a quick slice making shreds of cloth. the first, she wrapped around the knife enough times until the slick edges couldn’t break through the thick fibre. the rest of the cloth she took to him.

she knew how to act fast. she knew how to keep her head. this still, held an all new terror for her.

gingerly, she lifted him, hearing him hiss between his teeth. after she wiggled the cloth around from under him she took the make-shift knife, and tied it to the ends of the cloth - as if to make a bow, a kind of pouch, like the ones the many mothers would hide berries in to give the children.

she’d seen it done before; used as a kind of torque, for the cloth to apply as much pressure as possible. once it was tied together, furiosa grasped the handle wrapped in the cloth ties and pulled. wound it tighter and tighter until there was no more give, her hands shaking as she willed it to work, watching him flinch and groan.

when she could do no more, she watched. held her breath as, slowly, the bloody splotches eventually receded until, no more red would drip out. stopped.

the sigh came rushing out of her body. they could breathe, for now.

furiosa lifted herself up onto the metal hood, perched on her knees. she hovered over jack to place a hand at his shoulder, about to tell him that she finally got the bleeding to stop, and, if their luck is right, she’d be able to pull enough cloth off the dead man to maybe tie up his hand she’s sure is broken..

he wasn’t moving.

everything sank again. she had two fingers pressed his pulse in a blink - it was there, but only faintly. his eyes were closed, head lolled away from her, as if he was trying to save her from the sight.

‘hey.’

she rustled his shoulder, shaking the limp skin. nothing. he didn’t turn to her.

‘hey!’ furiosa snapped, the edge of her voice cracking. she gripped onto the dirty jacket collar, sliding his body up through the blood smeared underneath him. she curled both her hands around his head to cradle in her lap.

‘jack!..’

she rarely ever called him by his name. maybe, for the matter that she rarely ever called to him. whenever she needed him, he was there. on the road, working on the rig, in quiet conversations in the shop away from other gearheads. she just needed to turn, search for a jacket dusted with sand and blue eyes in the crowd, and she could find him. he always seemed to appear, right before she could call to him.

when they weren’t already paired, they didn’t need to search. they were simply honed to find each other.

‘jack!’ she tried again, louder, frightened, grasping at him - his name felt almost sacred on her tongue. a plea, more then a name. a desperate call that could get no other answer then from him.

nothing. he lay in her arms, still, eyes closed up at the open sky, as if he was already -

but he was still breathing, so low you could barely hear it. though it meant little if he couldn’t respond to her. if she didn’t reach him soon, it would stop altogether.

‘jack! can you hear me - please, wake up, please! say something!’

she didn’t know who she was pleading to. to him, to the universe, to anyone who might be listening. her breath starting stuttering, gasps thick and heavy, hot tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. she jostled him again, palms pressed against his cheeks.

‘wake up! please! jack, you-you can’t - I -’ words fell apart and as before, she folded, gathering him into her as she pressed her forehead to his ‘please. we..we’re going to the green place. we’re going home. y-you have to see it, I want you to see it - the green, the food, my family, please, jack..’

her jack.

the one good thing left that was hers. in this horrible, horrible, world of death and scars and suffering and destruction - it gave her all of that. it gave her the torture of her mother, it tore a scar deep through her childhood, it gave her pains from not eating for days and burns on her small hands forced to construct machinery, the scalding mark on the back of her neck forever branding her and reminding her of a life of loss.

but in it, she was gifted him.

he offered everything to her. he held her scars and asked nothing of them, just provided the stitches. he was soft when everything she’d crossed was bitter and deadly. he gave her a new life, so she could go back and try to find her old one. he offered hope. he was the love she hadn’t seen since she was all too young.

and he was hers.

furiosa knew, in the end, she could pick up and make the last few miles home if she had to. she could take her empty, tired body and finally reach the end.

but once home, she wasn’t sure she would survive the journey’s loss.

she held back another gasp for breath. her fingers tightly cupped his jaw and she pressed herself against him even more, desperate to be closer, to really feel him, for all the times she was too scared to.

‘my jack..’

she didn’t know if he heard her. all she knew, was that oh-so-quietly, surrounded by the unforgiving desert silence, came a faint, faint groan from the back of his throat.

her eyes flew open, head lifting. she trembled as she held him in her hands, at the very edge, waiting. he didn’t open his eyes, but she saw his lips part to take in a desperate gasp,

‘furiosa..’

many times, furiosa had been choked by silence at the scene in front of her. for the first time, it wasn’t done by horror. it was by elation. a deeply foreign, raw relief of hope that shook her core.

‘jack..’

another breath, getting stronger. he tried to lift a bruised arm, shaking so tremendously one might hear the bones clatter together, trying to grasp the back of her head without the strength for it. instead she met his hand with hers and laced their fingers together without second thought, resting them over his chest. where his faint heartbeat still thumped.

‘I stopped the blood. just..just try to breathe..’ she sighed. he did as asked, the only noise their breath mixing together, in and out.

‘..I won’t be able to drive the bike..with this..’

a quiet confession. he wouldn’t be able to sit up to drive the bike properly, not to mention his cracked fingers unable to grasp the handle. furiosa swallowed thickly.

‘you can ride on the back of mine. I’ll tie us together..’

‘you’ll have to..get rid of a bunch of supplies..’

‘it’s fine. it’ll only be what we don’t need.’

that was partly true. some of it they could live without, if they were careful. maybe.

‘how much of it?..’

she recognized that tone of concern, his straightforward pragmatism. she didn’t reply, simply placed her other hand ontop of their clasped ones, holding on tight.

‘don’t think. just breathe..’

‘we need - inhale - those supplies. you do. it’s not - gasp - a very solid plan..-’

‘I never said it was a good plan.’ she huffed ‘I’m trying to save your life.’

they could always come up with a working plan; she was trying to make sure he wasn’t dead or left to buzzards, doesn’t he recognize that? again, she wouldn’t hear anything else.

his shoulders started to shuffle against her, followed by a low rumbling. furiosa glanced down at him anew. he was smiling, barely, faint chuckles coming from the ragged throat. she blinked back, sure the delirium had caught up to him.

‘..looks like that’s twice now..’

furiosa huffed to herself. she might’ve argued with him before, but this time, feeling his chest rumble, she let it go.

eventually, they would go on, sliding off the car and furiosa giving him that long-nosed rifle as a temporary crutch.

but for a little while too long, they stayed clasped together.

-

furiosa knew when she saw them.

the white, flower petal tips of the wind turbines, peeking out from over the crests of the canyon. they were up high enough to faintly graze the top of what was beyond, the mountains protecting the green hidden below. she brought the bike to a halting stop, tires kicking up sand and the open land reflecting silence back. furiosa desperately scrambled for the binoculars strapped across her neck, bringing them up.

there was no mistaking a wind turbine, even with the binoculars. and before them, laying guard in front of the mountains, was a large watchdog tower with armed bodies stationed high up. it was too far away to pick out any faces, but furiosa knew them by the wispy hair drifting in the dry wind, the long rifles attached to their backs, and the stitched, coloured cloth they wore - the same as the one her mother dressed her in the morning before she was taken.

her whole self goes frozen. this is it. this is it. numbly, she recognizes jack from behind her carefully lift himself up off the bike and flip the kickstand down. she had, as said, more or less tied them together, having ditched the car and whatever else didn’t fit, leaving them only one small canister of gas and couple handfuls of food stuffed in the saddle bags. it was a relief, they weren’t going to have to spend another night, for the rest of the gasoline wouldn’t take them past tomorrow morning.

jack, with the empty rifle stuffed under his arm, slowly and uneven walked himself up to the ledge they’d rode up, peering at the glimpse of the white machinery.

‘..well I’ll be damned.’ he murmured ‘didn’t think I’d ever see one of those..’

wordlessly, furiosa stepped off the bike to walk up beside him. only she, knew what was beyond those mountains and white tips. it couldn’t be that far; from the distance of sand underneath them to the watchtowers, it’d take just a couple hours to cross.

only a couple hours till home.

she was trembling. everything, everything, had led her to here. every listless night of loneliness, rewinding memories of fresh grass underneath her feet and crystal clear pools. the dew, the splashes of cool water, real enough she felt like she could reach out to them. the unshakable strength of her mother placing a kiss on her hairline. all the nights she went without food, all the times she had to hide herself underneath the citadel’s eyes in muck and dirt.

every man’s harsh hand yanking at her, nearly whisking off her disguise. every bullet on a mission-gone-wrong that scratched her too close. all the blood painted up her arms. every crushing attempt that failed her a little too short. would she ever make it?

now it was right here.

whatever happens, no matter what, promise me you’ll make it back home. promise me.

furiosa!

furiosa!

‘furiosa?..’

furiosa took in a sharp breath, blinking back. she felt his eyes on her, waiting. she held open dried lips, searching for words within the enormity that she felt. staring ahead at the home that had been calling her back her whole life, suddenly, all she could think -

what if the ones she knew were gone? what if they had forgotten her?

what if they didn’t want her back?

‘I...I’m scared.’

she had never allowed herself to admit any fear. or, to have felt it, even in moments when her whole body shook. out here, it would get you killed, and if anyone sniffed it on you, then that was your end. she could never tell anybody.

jack, was not anybody.

‘of what?..’ he prompted. furiosa swallowed tightly, gaze never breaking from the horizon.

‘what if...what if it’s gone now? what if they don’t recognize me? what if...’ her breath quivers as she held back the sting of tears ‘what if...I spent so long fighting for it, and....it’s no longer what it was?..’

he couldn’t answer those questions. they both knew that. jack took one more silent, solemn glance out to the same horizon, towards the promise of green and rebirth and home he’d been told about, and turned back to her.

furiosa, his partner, his person - the soul of fire and fury and hope.

right now, that hope was so close, it’d started to become frightening. after daring to climb so high, what would they do, if they fell?

he could make only one promise.

a warm, chapped hand gently clasped hers. in a storm of worry, furiosa’s eyes darted out - and found his holding her up. when they met, the steady hand gingerly squeezed hers. I’m here.

‘only one way to find out..’

they could be led to great heights, or the fall could crush them. the unmovable piece, was that they were together.

furiosa breathed in. slowly she moved her fingers to grasp around his, holding steady. the two of them, having made it through everything to get here.

at that moment, she supposed, it wasn’t solely her mission anymore. it’d become theirs.

and now, they get to see exactly how it’ll come to a close.

-

‘drive any closer and get a bullet through your throat!’

that was what greeted them. furiosa shakily turned off the engine of the bike, and glanced up to the looming watchtowers above them, meeting the barrel of rifles zeroed in on their heads.

she couldn’t recognize them. they were wearing too much cloth, their mouths covered in wraps and eyes shielded by goggles. one, had a long mane of ink-black hair she swore she knew. she swallowed heavily.

in the dead silence, a careful hand fell on the small of her back.

as slowly as she could, furiosa raised her hands above her head. a white flag. waited for jack to step off, also holding his good hand up. the snipers didn’t drop their sights for a second.

staring back up at the faces masked in dirty leather, furiosa grasped the cloth wrapped around her face and shook out her long, wild tresses of hair.

a pause. slowly, the rifles were skeptically pulled back an inch, a mutual confusion carried between the two women atop the tower. they started down at this long-haired, doe-eyed girl without answers to parse. furiosa then, took in a breath - answers, she could give.

‘I am furiosa!’ she called with all the might in her chest, the name her mother gave her, hearing the dessert echo it back ‘I am one of the vuvalini, of the many mothers!’

the women, as if struck, froze. furiosa felt her throat unexpectedly tighten, forcing her to swallow down the lump.

‘my mother..was mary jabassa. my clan..was swaddle dog.’

silence. and then, a clatter, as a rifle fell to the floor. the woman with dark hair sprinted to the other side of the small podium, flinging a rope that was attached to the tower over the side. the other yelled something unintelligible to her but she didn’t heed it, instead sliding down with grace until her feet hit the sand.

furiosa could do nothing but watch. from the corner she saw jack stepping in place beside her. the woman rushed over and suddenly, starting pulling at her armour - scarf yanked off, goggles pulled and thrown to the sand, until she was bare-faced, standing just a few paces in front of them -

valkyrie.

the ink hair. the tired earth brown eyes, that used to hold so much mischief. she was worn, lines creasing across her face, a jagged scar line by her jaw that furiosa never knew. but the eyes were unmistakable. the dimple denting into her cheek as her lips started to rise was the very same. she held herself back ever so slightly, watching, trying to be sure, a moment held in time as they took each other in.

‘...valkyrie..’ furiosa gasped in disbelief ‘it..it’s me..’

that was it. hearts broke open.

she didn’t know who moved first but suddenly they were both rushing across the sand and furiosa was grasping. her fingers slid effortlessly through the black tresses and clung greedily just as she felt the worn, familiar hand grasp the back of her head the same. each, bringing their foreheads together, embracing for the first time in over ten years, holding desperately, reeling in what each had lost.

furiosa felt the wet tracks running down her cheeks. she heard valkyrie’s choked gasps, shivering under the way the nails bit into her scull, needing to hold her closer. her once best friend - she recognized the scent of gunpowder, but more, she breathed in the trace of crisp air and fresh soil that clung to the woven clothes.

the smell of home.

‘furiosa..’ valkyrie murmured. they eventually untangled themselves, still grasping onto shoulders, doing nothing but staring at each other. and for the first time in a long time, furiosa felt herself smiling back at the delirious, lopsided one she recalls so well.

‘something in the eyes...’

heads whipped over. neither had heard nor seen, the other woman climb down to them. she was much older, a wrinkled face and grey curls sticking out from under the hood. she peered fiercely at furiosa, unable to believe the miracle in front of her.

‘perhaps you are jabassa’s child...’

‘no..’ valkyrie dismissed the woman’s doubt, tears sliding down to the corner of her smile ‘this is our furiosa..’

our furiosa.

she’d pictured this day for so long. to be embraced by the people she loved who once loved her, who remembered her. to see their faces again and ride into the same lands.

it was more then she could imagine to know.

furiosa breathed in shakily, joy and grief making her smile wobble, squeezing her friend’s shoulders. the older woman stepped closer, careful fingers brushing furiosa’s arm as if she were made of glass.

‘..from which way did you come, dear girl?..’

‘from the west..’ furiosa answered ‘past the canyons, and beyond..’

‘how many nights?’ valkyrie grasped her wrist, sharing the elder’s disbelief.

‘three..’

‘how, did you make it all this way?..’

furiosa paused. then turned.

jack stood silently behind her, content to watch this heartbreak of reunions in front of him, wearing a gentle smile. when he caught her eyes, for the first time -

she smiled back.

the women, understandably, were weary. the elder slid closer to furiosa, gripping the gun strapped around her small frame.

‘this man..’

‘he is a good man.’ furiosa presses her whisper ‘he sacrificed, to help me get here..’

wary glances. she nodded again, encouraging. seeing this, jack took mindful, slow steps toward them. he held out his working hand, palm empty, no pretenses hid.

‘jack.’

she gave him one more glance. furrowed at his hand, seeing no weapons slid up his sleeve. slowly, the gloved hand unwound from the trigger of the gun and clasped his. she eyes the half-hazard bandage wrapped around both his middle and hand, her mouth quirking up.

‘looks like you ran into a real squabble..’

‘you should’ve seen the other guy..’ he replied, getting a low chuckle out of her. furiosa’s smile grew. his did too, and he inched forward, rifle still under arm, but winced as his injury bit into his side. he bent forward but furiosa was faster, making the few paces in a leap to grasp his arm, holding him up. her gaze immediately snapped to the women.

‘we need to get to your healing women..’

‘of course.’ valkyrie said, her voice a promise ‘we’ll fetch for them right away. I believe, everyone will soon hear of this triumphant return..’

-

furiosa’s name became a wildfire.

valkyrie, pulling out a motorbike hidden under the tower, led the two travellers up and over the sand dunes to a gated wooden fence, guarded by two more women.

valkyrie, why are you bringing outsiders in?!

they are not outsiders - sound the alarm! jabassa’s child has returned!

they were ushered through immediately . the gate opened to a dark, cool tunnel, led only by the wide circle of white light at the end. furiosa could sense her heart rising and rising through her throat, feeling the wave of fresh air roll in. she heard behind her, jack take in a deep breath. the short path seemed to stretch forever, going on and on and on until the white sharpened -

into green.

everywhere. pastures and hillsides of mossy grass. woodlands of trees, small sproutlings all the way to the full-grown pines that tower over. pathways plotted with people were below the cliff-side they stood on, many pools of clear water spotted around. it spread far out, kindly wrapped up by the mountains curling around the sides, keeping it hidden. a perfect oasis.

furiosa stayed utterly still, the bike parked. it was all she could do to simply stare. memorizing. the moment washing over - the far-away dream where she could breathe in and smell the earth. when she could finally take in the life around her without a trace of the black death that’d choked her for years.

she stared and stared. her home. it’d grown a bit smaller; she noticed, the way part of the mountainside had dipped in, a landslide from years ago that took part of the green with it. what mattered, was that she could map everything. there was the many plots of vegetables growing. the pastures, a log fence rounding up the horses who softly whinnied and chewed grass. the turbines on the mountain edges. the wide open path below, groups of huddled patch-work homes nestled behind trees where you could faintly see, bare-foot children playing.

faintly, she heard a holy shit muttered behind her, and if she’d turned, she would’ve seen the true awe on her partner’s face. but she couldn’t. shaking, her hand was suddenly reaching out behind her, grasping for his. at once, the thicker hand wound around hers, grounding her. furiosa felt the body behind her lean in an inch so she could hear the quiet, breathless voice,

it’s fucking beautiful furiosa. you did it. you brought us home.

she did it. ten odd years of a dream and finally home was something she could touch. she couldn’t stop the silent tears rushing down, but felt the squeeze of his hand.

valkyrie was hurriedly talking to a woman posted along the cliff-side, ushering the two of them down. a second after they drove past, furiosa saw the woman run off. by the time they made it down to the main path, slipping by the lingering groups of people watching them, a low, tremendous hum started sounding from all sides -

furiosa!

furiosa!

furiosa!

noise rattling from the masses as they motored by, cheering. welcoming her home. they eventually approached the cavern belonging to the healing women and furiosa helped jack off the bike, an arm draped over her shoulders and another on his stomach to steady him, feeling the uneven rise of breath. she could still hear the noise of the shocked crowd outside, and as they were welcomed in, her name thundering around them, another young woman called into the door of the cavern,

a daughter! a daughter has returned!

-

after everything, it’s quiet.

they had to reopen jack’s wound. not having had the opportunity to properly seal and disinfect, things were festering. he laid back, eyes closed, jacket bundled under his head. the women worked diligently, piles of bloodied cloth staining the rock underneath their feet. and all furiosa was allowed, was to sit by with white-knuckled fists.

he’d be alright, they promised; the wound only needed to be sewn, and his hand time to heal. furiosa trusted them.

for she once knew these women.

a lot of them, as they’d aged, had to retire from warriors to healers. furiosa recognized the fierce faces and they did hers, trembling smiles as they cupped her wet cheeks, where has she been?

now, she answers questions quietly as they snip at jack’s skin and sew thread into him. they’d already checked her over; she needed nothing more then water to wash out any grime in her cuts and clean cloth to wrap around.

how many days?

over 5,000, if I remember correctly.

the men who took you, who were they?

..insignificant, cruel mad men. they’re dead now.

good.

furiosa, your mother - what happened?

...she died. on day three.

..the whole clan mourned, you know, when it happened. everyone.

we’ll have to have another, proper memorial for jabassa, now that we know.

but no one came looking for this place again. we can only be sure, that was because of you and your mother..

..they wanted me to tell. I never did.

smart girl - if anyone was strong enough to survive the wasteland, it’d be jabassa’s daughter.

eventually, they were done. he simply needed to rest now. furiosa hovered protectively over his sleeping body, hearing the women murmur and clean the red off their fingers, not sure what to do now, where to go, how to start again. a familiar hand placed on her arm stopped her spiral of thoughts, finding valkyrie smiling back at her. she knew her old friend would need some food, and to properly wash off.

they walked down. the soft wind whistled by, furiosa traipsing after valkyrie as she kept getting caught by the spots of colourful flowers growing between rocks, or the shadow dancing off the tree branches. smiling faces watched her go as they walked to the large cooking fire, having become an inadvertent celebrity. as valkyrie handed her two peaches and a cooked leg of pig, she asked her,

why do they stare? not all of these people could’ve possibly known me as a child..

you became something of a folktale. a forewarning, mothers gave their children not to wander far, a tragic tale of what the world took from us. many didn’t expect..the stolen child to reappear. but, the rest of us didn’t give up full hope.

hope. furiosa remained silent the rest of the meal. she chewed slowly at the delicious smoked meat, taking time to admire the taste, and the lack of maggots that were often found in the burned up rats the gearheads ate. she savered the juices of bright citrus from the peaches, almost brought to tears again. it reminded her of something.

she sunk her fingers into her hair, curling around the hard, rattling seed.

I...I still have this, from my mother. I wanted to plant it.

valkyrie stared at the old, almost faded seed for what felt like minutes. she lifted her smile to furiosa with watery eyes.

wherever you wish.

after, valkyrie leaves her to one of the secluded, bathing pools. there’s no rush, so furiosa slowly strips, under the tepid air and shade of the trees, until she was bare. at first she’s almost afraid, but then, suddenly, she’s waist deep, kneeling on the muddy dirt floor, simply soaking as she traces fingers across the cool and crystal water. it takes her a little while, to ignore the ingrained habit of whipping her head over her shoulder for any lingering intruders.

she rubs away the leftover dirt. the inches of grime at her ankles and behind her knees, so black she thought she’d never find the milk white underneath. she dunks her whole head underneath, letting it wash over her hair, almost giddy - reminded of the way her mother would cup the water in her hands, splashing it over her laughing daughter’s hair as she bathed her. she rubs at the very last of the motor oil smeared so decoratively over her forehead, letting the water wash it away. until the oil and grease and blood no longer stained her.

taking away the grime of praetorian furiosa, a weapon in a gluttonous man’s war machine, and returning her the furiosa lost long ago - of the vuvalini, of her mother.

she steps out, anew. she pulls over the robe that was offered her, a soft material so unlike the scratchy, harsh leather. a dark blue, just like what she wore as a child.

it was dark, when she walks back to the cavern. jack had stayed asleep, recharging from sleepless days of travel. he was peaceful, not shivering from his wounds, face calm rather then twisted up in pain. remaining steady. furiosa felt a jump in her chest, thinking how beautiful he looked.

silently, she knelt by his head. she took a clean cloth she’d soaked in the pool, and, as carefully as one could, began running it across his forehead. she wiped gently until the black oil finally gave away, revealing him underneath. in the quiet night, the stars above and the graze of light from the fire in the hearth, she washed until the rag was black and he was new.

she put the rag aside, staring down at him and the creases and nicks she could now see across his face. it was then, he finally stirred, and tired blues blinked up at her.

‘furiosa..’ he murmured, his voice rough from slumber. her hand slinks up to his cheek, moving to his hair, dipping into the thick tresses to slick it back, keeping it out of his eyes.

she knew he was waiting on her to say something, idling in an open space of silence. a million and one different words wanted to flow out her lips but she found she couldn’t open them. it’d been a long day and her emotions were a frayed line.

she stared down at the kind man brought up in a world of hell; who helped give her her home, and her hope. she wanted to say how deeply this all meant to her, to ask how he was feeling, to say the healers said you’ll be alright in a couple days, to see if he needed anything, and maybe, to say something like she loves him.

but that frightened jump hit her chest again, stopping her. all jumbled, she simply reached into the pocket of her robe, revealing the damp pouch she’d hidden earlier.

‘I..I brought these for you..’

she places the cloth at his stomach, over his own palms unfolding to accept it. the cloth fell away to reveal the last few peach slices she took off her plate. he was tired, aching, yet, the shock subtly bursting over his face wasn’t missed. he slowly raised himself up with the prop of her hand at his shoulder.

‘..fresh fruit.’ he whispered, beholding the pieces in his hands as if it were a newborn baby.

she helped him up just slightly with his back against the wall so he could eat. he brought the first slice to his mouth and took the most careful bite, juices bursting over his lips, his eyes lighting up. then another bite. soon, what she thought was muted gasps shaking his shoulders, she understands were laughs.

elation and disbelief and exhaustion clashed into this moment of sinking into this sweet, sweet taste and furiosa sees, the tears gather at the corner of his eyes and the wobbly curl of a smile. it’s the moment, that has her smiling, timed right for him to see when he glances back at her.

the night grows darker and the peaches are soon gone. he lies back in the make-shift bed, and she curls up around him, sinking into sleep with his breath ghosted over hers once more.

left thinking how, before they agreed to finally rest, he kept trying to give her the last slice.

-

do you love the man?

her head flies around, wild hair revealing the winkled, smiling face. the keeper of the seeds - one of the few, who’d known her as a screaming babe, seen her disappear as a child, and then return as a scarred adult. she faintly remembered the woman; the large, duffle sack of seeds, how she used to greet her mother by reaching in and handing her a few new bean sprouts to plant. the old eyes hold more then furiosa could ever imagine to know, wise beyond her. to lie, would be foolish.

yet, her nerves strike. they tug her gaze away to glare down at the piles of weapons that were being prepped and cleaned. not everything was about growth and planting, here; they still needed their defenses, and furiosa found herself quickly brought over to help when the old woman saw how well her fingers moves across the sniper rifle.

love is a luxury, and at worse a burden. you can’t afford it in this world.

a creaky, knowing laugh is the response. one that knows better and sees right through furiosa.

dear girl, was it not love that brought here? the love of your home, that drove you to cross acres of sand? was it not love, that offered you transport and the means to take that journey?..

furiosa freezes, the metal casing she’d been absentmindedly tweaking falling back against the table. boxed in, she only glanced back at the seed keeper from the corner of her eye, too scared to do anything else.

they’d been home no longer then a week now. the first few days were spent towards jack’s healing, until he could finally be upright again. the rest, was adjusting - there was no doubt, the joy for furiosa finally being in her home of nature and nurturing, but being stuck between the teeth of the wasteland for so long, she’d forgotten what safety felt like. to not worry about each passing face and checking for her knife under her belt. to not have to rush when the dinner bell rang, reminding herself there would be enough. not needing her walls fully drawn up around her.

instead, she’s learning not just the way of life again - of gardening and tending, of crafting, not for once missing the overwhelming stench of guzzoline - but how to be open again. how to call out to others again, to valkyrie. how to rely on the elders who are pillars of this place. to confide in a community, to talk, to share.

it’s a slow undoing, but each steps she takes, she feels she’s reclaimed another piece of herself.

jack too, she watched, was taking the path inch by inch. eyeing the teams who tended the gardens, leaning about the way the animals such as the horses and sheep were cared for. he never so much as spoke aloud a question, but furiosa could read, the eagerness she saw in him, of a much more rewarding work he could take part in. she watched, just as she’d noticed for herself, how his wall of silence, the surliness and gruff veneer he had to carry at the citadel, slowly gave way, his shoulders untightening and his brow less heavy.

it must be odd for him though, she thinks; there certainly weren’t as many men here. the ones that were, were either elders, respected by the community for their skills of planting or crafting to have earned trust to stay, or more likely, young men who were sons of the women. the opposite of men furiosa saw at the citadel; raised by women, their respect for them was forefront, and they’d learned to be helpful community members and honest men.

furiosa watched, somewhat amused, a couple of them flock to jack - wide-eyed, curious to how he got here, and the calm, respectful confidence he held. he’d promised, to teach some of them about machinery.

infact, he was already there. his hand was still mending the last few broken bones, but given his knowledge on machines, he’d been asked up to one of the turbines; it’d been stalled for a month, and no one could figure out the gear that broke it, so maybe he was the one to guide them to it. they rarely strayed from each other, but she gave him the nod to go ahead at his prompt, and she stayed back, helping wherever else she was needed.

leading her here. looking back at the keeper of the seeds, she finds a warm smile meeting her. not chastising her. only encouraging.

you’re right, in that love is a luxury. more, I would say it is a gift - and you, girl, have been granted a gift. in this world of painstaking deaths and loneliness, somehow, this miracle found you. it is up to you to do with it what you wish, but, trust me, you likely won’t find it again if you throw it away. because this love loves you back.

..it does?..

fiercely. he holds it to his chest. much like how the love of your home gave you strength, it gives him the same..

furiosa didn’t know what to do with these words, with this revelation that both elated and terrified her right to her bones. when they were done, the keeper of the seeds simply gave another knowing smile, and a clasp on her arm. you must talk with him.

this, unfortunately or not, she did know.

she waited for him to find his way back to her, as all the times before. and find her he did; sitting, right outside the patch of houses where her clan resides, near the clear pool she’d bathed in earlier. there was the faint chatter wafting from the homes, carried by the trees, the solace of a community nearby. after arrival, her and jack had been granted a home that was previously empty. they weren’t much; a stone-slab floor, woodbase walls, and a thatch roof. but, it held a hearth for fires on colder nights, a dug-out hole for keeping food out of site, and a pitched hammock. the door had a real lock and there were no rats scuttling around. coming from where they did, it was near paradise.

right now though, furiosa was otherwise enjoying the quiet. the stillness. bristling tree branches and the crackle of leaves under feet, far different from the overcrowded nights forced to move through hundreds of gearheads, each fighting for a bed. she’s slowly remembering, how to listen to the forest again.

it was the snap of a branch that gave him away. her head pivoted around, newly clean and fresh hair that lay past her shoulders flying over, the seed husk she’d been fiddling with shoved back in her pocket. she took him in, the thin linen shirt and patched pants he wore, but of course, his jacket still slung around his shoulders. stepping over a mossy fallen trunk, his head pitched up to hers.

‘..valkyrie said you were out here.’ he greeted, the woods crunching under his boots that stepped next to her ‘enjoying the scenery?..’

she hummed her reply, waiting for him to take his seat on the log beside her. it was a small seat, the leather brushing yet again over her shoulder, a familiar scratch. it was no longer smothered by dust, finally revealing the shine of coal black leather. the other day he’d asked for the remaining water that’d been used to scrub dirtied clothes, and ran a cloth over his beloved piece, making it new. it no longer breathed of motor oil and sweat anymore.

even jack himself didn’t. she’d grown so used to his trademark of guzzoline and black motor ink, dripping onto his boots and smearing up his arms as they spent countless nights bent over the bow of the rig, working together to fix the jammed instrument. now, it was different. now, he held the trace of firewood from chopping, and crisp air caught in his hair. but, there remained the natural sweat of him from a day of hardwork, the one that was purely him. furiosa took in a deep breath of him.

‘just..waiting.’ she replied, eyeing him and the dark oil caught under his fingernails ‘they’re working you hard, up there..’

‘it’s about done, they think they’ve found the issue with the turbine. and hey, this is a mercy compared to my last working conditions..’ he jested, brushing off any grime onto his pants ‘these women - they don’t need me to a damn thing for them, only to fill in the gaps with what I know. I understand why..you’re quick to pick up on things. that’s how they taught you..’

furiosa hummed again, gaze drifting away. she never doubted that the sharpness and survival her mother and the women around her instilled, were a saving grace for her in the wasteland. gradually, his gaze followed hers out towards the green.

‘...what you said about this place..’ he murmured, caught in his surroundings ‘..I never could’ve guessed how incredible it is..’

‘..neither could I. my memory couldn’t do it justice..’

‘clean air, clean water, fresh food, true honest people who care for you..it’s got everything...’

she turned back. his gaze still beheld the woods, mesmerized. furiosa felt a squeeze over her heart, a soft longing. she saw his hand idling at his side, and, falling into her heart, she placed her own over his.

‘..and you.’ she whispered, his eyes clashing into hers, a lump pulling at her throat ‘jack I..I wanted to..to say...’

it was jumbling again. it was too much. he meant too much to her. as she grasped, she felt well-worn fingers calmly wrap around hers.

‘it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere fast..’ he assured. at that, furiosa took in a breath.

‘you..you took this journey with me. you risked everything. the privilege of being a praetorian that kept you fed and away from anyone’s knife, to risking death for abandoning your post. all for a dream of mine that by then, could’ve been destroyed or wasted. I just..you don’t know what that means, to have given everything for another person..’

a second hand fell over hers, stopping her. she blinked back, the earlier gentleness he wore turned tense.

‘hey. first, I knew what it meant; I knew what it meant when I turned back for you on the desert road, and I knew then when I offered to help you find this place. I wanted to. and, more, I’m the one benefiting from it. have you seen this place? it puts shame to any idea of abundance joe and his men could think up, any valhalla a warboy dreams of. but it wasn’t mine to come back to; it’s only my home now, because it was yours first. you helped save me, furiosa. more then once on this journey.’

his words were kind, yet a sour note struck her. her brow pushed together, frustrated.

‘you can’t keep saying that.’ she pushed, watching his brow furrow the same.

‘why?’

‘because you saved me first!’ she let out, releasing the enormous weight that’d been on her chest for so long ‘not only from walking alone to die on that road, devoured by buzzards. but..for your help. for your respect. for asking nothing else from it. if you hadn’t offered me the job with you, I’m not sure...I could’ve made another escape for home, but who knows, how long it would’ve taken me, the risks that could’ve cost my life. I’m here..because you took that chance..’

the gravity of it all - everything finally laid out scattered in front of her. furiosa took in an unsteady breath, casting her gaze down, feeling inexplicably bare. then, in the quiet, tender hands squeezed around hers. she slowly draws her eyes up - and sinks into the kind crystal blue held open to her. catching her, steadying her, as always.

‘...I could say the same thing..’

not a rebuttal; more, a hand, meeting hers the same. furiosa soaked in the words, letting them wash over, before gradually squeezing his hands in return.

here they were, trying to lay down their lives to each other in boundless gratitude. but perhaps, furiosa was realizing, this debt was owned not solely to one or the other. it was only by the both of them, that they got this second chance.

the revelation bloomed wordless between them. there was no need to convince the other the greatness of what they’d done; they did this together.

rather, they simply sat in each other’s presence, letting the woods wrap around them. furiosa knew though, there were more words laying on her tongue. she could feel the weight of her once gifted seed like a stone in her pocket. she glanced back to jack, finding him staring outwards, forlornly faraway. she knew that stare; ones she snuck of him on tenser rides, or glassy eyes starring down at a piece scattered over his workbench. something was rattling in his mind.

‘..what is it?..’ she prompted. he paused, collecting, inhaling deep.

‘I..I don’t know, I..’ he dared to look back at her, almost shy ‘..I just had this thought that..once we got here..you wouldn’t need me anymore. not that you’ve needed me to do anything for you, but more that..our partnership wouldn’t be needed anymore. in the shitstorm that was the citadel, we built..something good. something that was important to me, learning to work and rely on each other, but, once we were out from under it’s eye, I...I wasn’t sure if you’d need my support. you’re an incredible woman - hell, you’re one of the most incredible people I’ve met, and I know you don’t need my help. but..hearing that, I just want, maybe, to be sure..-’

now this - this was something furiosa would not hear.

her hand clamped on top of their clasped ones. his drifting gaze snapped up, finding hers searing through him, sure and unshakeable.

‘listen. we both know..need is complex, in the wasteland. in this world. you need water, food, safety before the next person knifes you. to go without, gets you killed or leads you to waste away in your own death. and needing someone else, can worsen your chances. it makes you vulnerable. need, at the core, is simply a base instinct and something that renders you choiceless..’

the forest stood at a silence around them. he didn’t even dare breathe, hanging onto her every word. furiosa inhaled again, to get the matters of her heart she’d buried so deep for her own safety, into the right words.

‘..I know, that..if I needed to, should something happen to you....I could go on. I would’ve found a way back home. many times, I’ve dug myself out of dark pits..and kept going.’

his head came down, gaze cast from hers. it was then, she brought up both hands to cup his face. warm, scruffy cheeks met her soft palms, fingers drifting near his throat and catching the drumbeat thump of his heart. the same pulse, she desperately pressed her fingers to on the unforgiving open road as he bled underneath her, pleading cries calling out.

he’d made it here with her. and that was the heart of it.

‘but that doesn’t matter to me. because I want you here.’ tears began pooling, threatening to spill over as she held him so close, gasping ‘I want you so much it burns. I want you here with me and to never leave until our bodies succumb and we become the soil that feeds this forest. as a child, I could never want, because I knew I could never grasp it - no matter how much I wanted my mother back, she will never return. but you, I-I want you. for however many days left we’re given here. I want you by my side - my partner, my jack..’

her heart lay out in front of her, dangling by a thread, and never at any other time, has furiosa felt more terrified. tears run and her head hangs, nails digging around his collar from holding too tight. her indifference, her walls, came apart in pieces at the idea of losing him. of not being as his side, a place she wants to be forever.

she couldn’t bare losing him.

eyes closed to salvage herself, instead, she felt the familiar chapped palm slip behind her head. well-worn fingers slid into auburn hair, careful of each thread. his hold was tender, yet she could feel the strength behind it, holding her just as close. when she feels a forehead bump into hers, she finally opens her eyes to the world.

to him.

finding him staring lovingly back, enveloped in the same oceans, the very blue she knew by memory and by heart. suddenly it became only them within the green - the harsh, lively world faded around furiosa and all she could hear, was her wild heartbeat beating in rhythm to the one echoing from his chest. he took in a breath, the exhale mixing with hers. sensing the cliffs edge they were danging from, furiosa slips her own hand behind his head.

when he finally whispers, it’s not for any nearby ears or the travelling wisps of wind or the trees to hear - it’s just for her.

‘my fury - you’ve always had me..’

it was all she needed. her fingers grip even tighter and if she was crushing his throat he didn’t dare protest, leaving her to only nod and pull closer. his head slips up slightly, and before she can worry he was pulling away, she feels a kiss pressed against her, between her forehead and hairline. furiosa squeezes her eyes tight but another tear slips through, unable to hide the joy that overtook her.

as she quietly came down and he let her find her breath, furiosa did have one other faint thought. that the history man was right.

tears of joy were vastly different then tears of sadness.

when she could feel steady, she pulled back a few inches. he still held onto her hand, her fingers weaving through his like they always did. finding their place. she took her other hand finally and sunk into her pocket.

‘I..I want your help with something..’

ever dutiful, he asks ‘with what?..’

her fingers close around the rattling husk. she pulls it from her pocket and, her hand a fist, once more unfolds her fingers the way a flower gradually pulls away it’s colourful petals. revealing the peach seed, there, between them. the same as she had in the dark, where they lay hidden away in a sliver of the citadel.

‘I had hoped...we could plant it here, by the water, together...’

her last dream - to finally bring the small, delicate seed she’d carried with her the same way she carried the memory of home in her heat, to soil. to finally let it blossom and bring the beauty it was meant to after it travelled through all that pain with her. after all this time, she could grant her mother’s wish.

with him at her side.

he stared down at the seed as if seeing it anew, it’s curved ridges and promise of something better. he drew his gaze, gradually, to her, and for the first time not under delirium or with the sting of pain underneath - furiosa really saw his smile bloom.

he slipped his hand out from where it was entwined with hers - to lay it over her open palm, cupping the seed between both their hands. yes. it was everything she needed to hear, for her to meet him with the same smile.

in recounts, neither one of them is sure who moves next. furiosa knows, that without thinking, she slowly feels herself falling inward and that her eyes land to his lips and the hand cupping her head gently shifts, tilting her, right as her eyelids dripped close -

and he kisses her.

soft. careful, pausing a millisecond after their lips graze just for her to be sure only to nearly be devoured by her, pulling him in. grasping. soaking in the other, openly, without danger’s claws ready to rip into them or the ache of agony keeping their hearts apart.

what furiosa will always remember, was the taste of peaches on his tongue.