Max stole the unattended bike with the intention of returning it and with the reasoning that if he were to make it to the biker's canyon before the scavengers got there, he'd need better than his own two feet. He looked over his shoulder once at the Citadel as it retreated in the sand-scratched review mirrors, and wondered how different the place would look the next time he came back to it. There was an empty space lodged high in his chest where some emotion ought to be. He refused to dwell too much on it.

Some scavengers had arrived, but they were the weak or the sick from Bullet Farm and Gas Town who weren't able to be a part of the war parties both had sent out, and the odd spare biker. None of them were Road Warriors, and Max's appearance soon sent them scuttling to hide behind rocks, no use of guns required. That's a first, ran through his mind.

His car, that had been the goal. He'd just come for his car and whatever feasible parts that he could scavenge from the wrecks to get it moving again, but when he tracked along one of the narrow paths the bikers used and looked down the hill to see the fallen metal mountain of the War Rig, he felt the pull stronger than curiosity, more knowing, he knows, he knows.

He wondered if he really were going (more) insane when he found the crushed cockpit of the truck empty. Could he have been wrong about this particular gut instinct? There is blood, though, and he soon follows the speckles outside, difficult to see, rust blood against rust soil.

Nux had managed to crawl an impressive distance, considering that when Max looked down at him he noted the War Boy was missing his lower left leg. He knelt beside the motionless, pale figure. Breathing, but shallow, heartbeat, but erratic. Max sat and efficiently unraveled the clear plastic tubing he still carried. He'd never questioned why he'd brought it, instead of leaving it to somebody more useful back at the Citadel.
Maybe it hadn't been all about the car, after all.

The War Boy could have been his polar opposite - with his unbridled enthusiasm, childish optimism, and bursts of manic energy. But Max saw one thing in Nux that he saw in himself - the ability, the will, to survive.

Nux twitched once before his brilliant blue eyes flashed open and registered confusion. "Blood Bag?" He slurred.
"Be still." The idiot was trying to sit up despite his obvious weakness and was pushed back down. His V8 tattoo was half obscured with scrapes, his bare chest having borne the brunt of flying debris. The missing foot could actually have been a lot worse - it must have happened from or recently prior to flames, and the wound was more or less quarterized. There were burns on his leg and an arm, but Max knew if he was awake already, the fact he'd survived this long was a positive.

A few more hours of universal donor blood brought back Nux's coherency. "Did they make it? Capable?" Was the first question, fear in his expression. Max nodded once. "Safe. Home." The relief on Nux's face was absolute. His head fell back with a sigh, lifting his hands briefly in the V8 salute. Then a puzzled look crossed his face. "Is my foot gone?"

On the second day, just after he'd given Nux what he thought would be the last transfusion he'd need, the scavengers came closer. When one got within earshot Max explained in his gruff, clipped tones, using very few words, that he'd kill and roast anybody that interfered with them, and a wide berth was kept after that point. As he wound up the clear tubing and tied the loose end in a knot around it, Nux reached out a sleepy hand and cuffed Max's shoulder affectionately, the sort of gesture he would have given another War Boy. Max stiffened, but Nux was too groggy to notice. "Think three now, your high-octane blood saved me." He dropped to the sand and rested his head on his less-injured arm. "Don't think I would have woken after the sandstorm without you."
Max hadn't actually thought about that, but now Nux had brought it up it made sense. Nux might well have died in the wreck of his car, but they'd still been connected, Max's blood flowing into the War Boy, sharing his will to live. "Don't mention it." He grunted, but he felt a flicker of emotion looking down at the sleeping boy. It had been a long time since he had any allies to speak of.

Nux had nightmares. The first night Max didn't mention it, but Nux reminded him so much of himself, waking lashing out with his weak limbs, that Max muttered a few words to him on the second night. There was only the stars as light, but Nux calmed once he heard Max's voice. He dropped back to the bed he'd dug in the sand, covering his face with his hands, breathing shakily for several long minutes.
"What happened?" The words were out before he could recall deciding to ask. Nux groaned.
"Immortan, driving the Gigahorse. Angharad... falling... he swerves, he hit her, on purpose, on purpose!" He clutched his head helplessly. "Sometimes it isn't Angharad. Sometimes it's Furiosa. Or you. Or... C-Capable. I can't do anything. Just watch. He always swerves." His babbling cooled, and he looked through his fingers at Max, a shadowy figure in the starlight. "Do they go away?" He asked in a small voice. Max's answer were a long time coming.
"Mine haven't yet."

It was amazing that he didn't get infections, but Max was the practical type, and he wasn't about to sit around thanking their lucky stars. "Up." He told Nux late in the afternoon of the third day, when he judged the cuts were healed over enough not to reopen during a bike ride. Nux dropped his head, his eyes widening slightly. "Don't want to go home." He muttered, digging his hands into the sand and puling his fingers through it. Max stared. Nux scowled, though the expression didn't fit properly on his features and it faded quickly. Max tapped his foot, impatient. Nux anxiously picked up a scoop of sand he poured from one hand to the other. "Don't want Capable to see me like this." He hung his head.

Max thought for a moment, then he walked to the bike and swung his leg over to mount it. "She thinks you dead." He waited. Nux looked like he was in agony as he proceeded the information, but he eventually half-hopped, half-crawled over to the bike and climbed on behind Max.

Max rode easy for Nux's sake and night had fallen by the time they got there. The citadel was in darkness, with just a few lights on around the gardens and high in the rocky living chambers. Max hadn't expected to return here so rapidly. Not so different then, Max thought, but when he saw the new light of hope in the eyes of the people he reconsiders. Most are asleep, but a few sat around campfires, talking, sharing what looks to be water and medicine.

Max sent a War Pup inside with the news. He didn't mention Nux's name but the Pup must have known him and reported it anyway, because instead of Furiosa like he expected, the first person to descend from the citadel shot towards them, hair like a sandstorm tornado, sobbing and screaming and throwing herself on Nux. He gripped her shoulders gamely, a tear escaping and running a clean track through the grease and soot and dirt caking his usually pale cheek. Capable, who lived up to her name in so many ways, who'd had every reason to throw him off the rig for a second time and instead had given him trust and purpose. "Sorry." He offered, meekly, and Capable snorted through her tears and cuffed him, very gently, on the back of his shaved head. "Don't you dare ever leave me like that again." She sniffled, the command no less imperious for her tears.
"Okay." Nux wasn't sure how long they clung together, with him resting some of his weight against her supple body, but eventually he felt her stiffen with surprise.

"Max - Max is gone." He'd left the bike behind this time to make a silent retreat over the sand. Footprints led off into the desert, but Capable felt no compulsion to follow them, and not only because Nux needed medical attention. He'd come back once. He would again. The next time, she'd thank him for bringing Nux back to her. She knew, she was certain, that they would see Max again.

"Are you in pain, Nux?" Capable pulled back enough to trace his chest and wince in sympathy at his lopsided stance, keeping her other hand locked around his arm to give him balance. Nux reached out, gently cradled her face, and brought her forehead to rest against his own. "I was. Not now. Maybe never. Missed you." He rambled with a wide smile. Capable's heart overflowed for her sweet, brave, silly War Boy. She reached up and pressed her palm over his chest, over the tattoo scars and the healing wounds and the steady thump of his heart. "I swear this to you, Nux. You're going to get better. Not just these injuries. I'm going to find out how to help you. If I have anything to say about it, it won't be a half life for you."

A couple of Nux's cuts and one of the burns on his arm were weeping and he was growing pleasantly groggy, but he grinned gamely and nodded at Capable's vow, swaying a little. Noticing, Capable wound her arm around his waist and helped him towards the Citadel. Nux hopped slowly at her side. He felt no pain, as he'd told her - only the warmth of her body alongside his. Maybe he had died after all. Maybe this was his reward. On the rising platform Capable helped Nux into a sitting position, and tucked her legs under herself to sit beside him. He leaned against her drowsily. "Capable?"
"Mmm?"
"Do you think Furiosa will make me a leg as shiny as her arm?"

Okay guys, don't get too excited because this is DEFINITELY a oneshot. What little spare time I have for writing fanfics is being devoted to my Warm Bodies work, Nux just wouldn't get out of my head until I'd written this. There are several NuxLives fics that express my thoughts on the matter really well, and I wouldn't write them too differently than those that are already written. This was written for the Nux fans who have hope, and for the reason that I really like the idea of Max and Nux becoming buddies.