They really didn't talk much.

Words were fickle and more often than not, they were lies.

What mattered were actions. What you did. What you didn't do.

"Where you go, I go."

How can someone that has been voiceless for so long that words jumble wildly in their minds convey so much with just five words?

Max was alive, but that did not mean he was living. In fact, he had been barely surviving all this time. He had survived even when he was certain survival was the only thing he didn't want. Too many had been lost in the sand, that their ghosts made a chorus with their accusations against him. He was tired of them, but he never seemed to be able to leave them behind.

Until he had to fight the woman with no arm.

During that fight, when both of them were determined to not let the other one win because there was too much at stake, he couldn't hear the voices.

At the beginning he didn't realize it. He was absolutely engrossed in staying alive to really notice anything else. A little later, when he thought he had her pinned down, he noticed the silence in his mind. She got off his hold and the fight continued as did the quiet. He realized his focus was solely on the woman's moves, trying to anticipate her attack. That required him to put his whole mind at attention, and there was no room for anything or anyone else.

Then he grabbed the gun and had the woman at gunpoint. They were at a stalemate. He won and took the rig. He would drive as far away as he could from those bastards who had caged him…

But then, the rig stopped. Max felt all of his blood draining off from dread. He was about to lose it when he looked in the rear-view mirror and saw the women running to catch up with the rig. Again, he focused on the fighter one and the voices subsided and he took a step back from the brink to madness.

She convinced him to help. While she was speaking, Max could hear the precious silence in his mind. It was this, much more than anything the woman said, that told him to stick around.

He fought her enemies, fought with her. They connected without words and seemed to be two parts of a whole. There even was harmony to their attack. The only time when he thought of not going with her was when she insisted on going into the salt. He knew there was nothing alive in there. He did not want to go back there. Then again... he did not want her to go that way and die. But why?

Why would he care about her? Why would he care that her dream was shattered and her soul was grieving?

Then, the voices cajoled him again. Not to stay behind. Not to let her disappear without telling her what was on his mind. At least, the things on his mind that made sense. Sort of…

He caught up with her party. Stopped in front of her path to make her listen. To make her see what he saw that could be. It was difficult for him to put together so many words. He thought he had forgotten them long before. But he managed and she listened. When he extended his arm for her to shake, and she did, he whispered, more a promise to himself than for anyone else, but she heard, "…where you go, I go."

They were back in the Citadel, the dreaded place. He shoved Joe's body off the front of the car. They dropped the lift for them. For her. She would be up there. She would heal up there. She had to appear strong, but she was still weak from her wounds. He was still holding on to her somehow. He kept his hand on the other end of her driving wheel. Not trying to take it from her, just… holding on. Going back there was hard for him, but it was the best thing for the wives. They would not have survived in the salt. Where you go, I go…, his words came back taunting him. He thought he could deal with it all, but it was too much. The noise, the people... the hope. The only thing keeping him sane was the hold on her wheel and the fear that if he let go, she would be driven—taken, far away from him. He would be completely lost again. He shook. She noticed it on his hold of the wheel. She turned to look at him. Their eyes met for the briefest moment. She leaned in to whisper in his face. Her breath blew her natural scent on him. "Stay…, just until I heal and they stand on their feet…, then we go." It was a tempting promise, but there was more: "…there are quiet places up there. I will show you." That gave him the strength he needed. He planted his feet more firmly on the platform and repeated his words knowing that he would be able to fulfill his promise, "Where you go, I go."