I do not own Mad Max: Fury Road.

Really need to stop watching it tho ;)

The Only Offering You Have

Every war boy needs a pair. The sand, the dust get everywhere, in everything.

When you're driving kamacrazy on the Fury Road, you don't want to die early doing something stupid and shame the Immortan. He won't carry you to the gates of Valhalla if you're stupid and die without purpose. You've got to be shiny and chrome and die right in glory to His honor.

So you slap your pair of filthy goggles on over your eyes, those orbs so dry and itchy and scratchy just like the rest of you, been that way for so long you don't even notice it anymore. You slap them on and slam the throttle and drive wild and crazy for a glorious death in His sight.

And everything goes black and red and shiny and chrome.

And you know you've won and died right.

Except then you wake not in the long awaited paradise of Valhalla, but still on this dry, thirsty bit of rock to being drug along the ground, the sand and dust and stone no less hard and painful than every other day of your life. Your body aching and weary no less than every other day of your life.

And you fight with mad hunger and pointless rage, no planning, no strategy. Just scrapping and thrashing for victory against a traitor to Him, against a woman. Legions of them it seems and attacking and screaming and you know you have to emerge victorious because what man would lose against weak, feeble Breeders and a woman with one arm?

But you're tossed out anyway and your mind races to recoup and you do, promising the Man victory only to fail again so poorly you know you deserve nothing but the most suffering and misery until your dying breath.

But then she finds you, cares for you, accepts you, entrances you.

And you still your supplications. You listen. You look.

And she becomes your new beacon, your new light.

A soft light that does not sear, does not burn.

But a light that warms you, stills you, gives you peace.

Peace, a word that you don't understand the definition of as much as feel the meaning of.

And when you drive the War Rig (such a shine accomplishment, especially for a worthless War Boy) out of the mire and past the tree thing, they let you stay beside her, your light.

That light with hair of flame and eyes of deep water you've never seen before. Those eyes of deep, blue, calm, clear water that seems to soothe the sick heat rash of your burning body and soul like a precious, cooling balm.

And you know you are only a simple War Boy with no offering to give this your Valkyrie, nothing at all worthy of her.

Except perhaps for your life.

And even that is not good enough, so unworthy, so little.

So when the sand and dust and dry irritates those soothing blue orbs through which she gazes so calmly at you, though she speaks not a word of complaint, you notice.

You notice and you think of your goggles. Stained with oil and grime and blood and the clay that coats your cancerous flesh.

But they aren't good enough to touch even the soles of her dirty, bare feet much less the perfect, softness of her face.

So you sneak away from them to the side of the War Rig to the bucket of Mothers' Milk.

It's sacred, this white, creamy substance. Too sacred for a failure of a War Boy like you. So you glance around to check that no one's looking and you dip your hand down into the precious liquid and your parched insides rasp so dustily to be quenched just this once, just for a second.

But you don't. You just clean the leather and glass of your only offering to her, clean it as best you can. And then you reach into your pocket and bring out the torn length of soft, white sheer fabric she drapes herself in. And you clean and dry the only thing of value you have.

And you offer them to her, to shield those deep, calming blue eyes from the wretched, dry wasteland.

She takes them with a little smile, murmurs a thank you, and you don't know what that means exactly. Only that it's made her happy and you've done well. And your insides swell and warm and you don't feel sick anymore. Just for a moment or two.

She reclines against you then, all soft and warm. You want to kiss her cheek again like you did before but you don't. Once was more than you could ever have asked for and that will have to do forever.

So you just sit and be still and listen to her breathe, feel her breathe.

And it's enough.

And then it's time to run and fight again.

And you do and you think of what you can do to save her, to save them all.

But mostly her.

And she's fighting too.

She's such a delicate thing but she fights too.

And you know more than ever, feel more than ever, that she must survive, she must live, whatever it takes.

And so when the time comes, you grab that chance, you make her go, knowing full well you may not live to make it back to her side.

But that's okay, it's worth it because they will live, she will live and that's all that ever really mattered anyway.

You see her and she's still wearing the goggles you gave her and you know they'll keep her beautiful, deep stillwater eyes safe and protected when you're gone.

You ask her to witness you, not for glory or Valhalla or some false god of a bloodthirsty, powerhungry man.

But for you. For what she did for you. Curing your sickness. Not of the body because that's not important. But of the mind. Washing away the crazy, mad sickness and filling you up with peace and calm and purpose. Giving you worth because she believed it of you.

She did that. When she didn't have to. And it meant so much.

So you want her to know that you know.

You want her to witness and she does.

And then you wretch the wheel and save them all.

And as the flames gout up and envelope you and everything else, you know you've won.

And died right.

A bit raw, this.

I read somewhere that Nux gave Capable his goggles and before that it never occurred to me that they just appeared on her out of nowhere. So I started typing and couldn't stop. Then, thanks to YouTube, I saw she had them before she met him. But I'd already written this and I like it so, meh, I'm keeping it ;)

So whatever you think, I'm sure you'll let me know, yeah?

Everybody appreciates feedback. Leave a review if you like.