Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I love it!

I apologize now if there are many spelling errors! This was rushed to get out before I head to work. I won't be able to update again until next Tuesday, so I wanted to give guys something ASAP.

I do not own these characters!

He wasn't the same man as the boy she had once known. The boy with a head filled with dreams and desires. To cross the salts, to become a road warrior—a protector of Fury Road. She could not deny that he had rescued her from the hell that was Gastown, imprisoned by The People Eater to be his useless wife. But despite all, somewhere, buried within her, she wished he had not been the one to aid her. For then she would have never seen him like this, tormented by the very sight of her. Rather, she would only have every known him as her quiet protector. A good memory to carry with her in life.

To her own dismay, she had shed far more tears than she had in years. And she wondered if this was what came with freedom—emotions, the freedom to cry.

While in Gastown, she never cried. After she bore two sons, neither surviving a week's end, she shed no tears. They had been riddled with disease, inherited from their father. She wondered then if he would cast her off like an overused coat, useless and without value. But she did not cry.

When she bore him a daughter, healthy in every way, he had her disposed of. A woman should not inherit a nation.

She wept then, for the life of her pure daughter. She wept for days. And when Honor had held her close and whispered, "Where does it hurt?" and Eve had placed a hand over her heart, Honor had questioned, "Will your tears make the pain go away?"

And that's when she finally shut off the tears, pulled back her shoulders, and stood tall. Because crying for a sign a frailty, and she was a strong creature. She did not allow tears to fall from that day on.

Until she had seen Max again, and hope had been restored to her.

Hope for a future that was shared with her quiet protector, safe and sound by his side. A future filled with dreams of lands across the salts.

But he had crushed those notions between his finger and his thumb. He was a tormented creature, who looked at her through clouded vision, only seeing clarity when his eyes were fixed upon the lovely Rig Driver. She wondered if they had loved for long. Maybe shortly after she was snatched by the Gastown Boys. Maybe she dreamed of crossing the salts with him.

Maybe.

No broken bones, just bruised flesh. She didn't cry about it, only hissed in pain when she touched the skin. She was strong, though. She would be fine.

Furiosa had guided her back to her quarters, shared with the other Gastown wives.

The Dag had taken a liking to The Soft, both caring children within their flesh. And Honor and Capable had been quick friends, both enjoying the vehicles, the weapons. And Cheedo had introduced the War Pups to the Wives, and they had gone of their ways.

Then there was Toast, who wandered the corridors of the Citadel, praying that the Gastown Wives would find their own way, and leave the Citadel in it's much deserved peace. She was a selflessly selfish person, and did not seek disruption in their new found quiet.

And Furiosa handled it all.

She stepped into a hallowed out room in the center of the Citadel. She knew he would be here. This is where he had been branded, where his Inceptor had been held. It was his first taste of the Citadel under the control of Immortan Joe. It was a wretched place, yet the only that he knew.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, finding him seated on the hood of a hallowed out vehicle. He picked at the scabs that littered his arms and hands. "I know you're not much of the talking type," she breathed, walking up to him. She contemplated sitting beside him, but knew he would stand if she did. "But sometimes it helps."

He grumbled slightly, and she thought maybe he rolled his eyes. Maybe he hadn't.

"You didn't break her," she smiled faintly. "I think it'd take a lot more than a simple bruise from you to break a girl like her. Someone who was forced to please The People Eater for as long as she did… We are not fragile beings, us women. We're stronger than man, in some senses."

"I would never deny it," he spoke slowly, peeling off a large scab. Blood drew to the surface, pooling into a lovely crimson purl. He swiped it away with his thumb.

There was a long silence, half of her waiting to see if he would speak, the other half mustering up some sort of wisdom to bestow upon him. But she did not believe him to be less wise than her. He had seen his share of misery, been dealt many blows from fate as well. She knew him to be as tortured as she was. But that was what they were—both broken beings.

"Who is she to you?"

Max's mouth twitched, separating his hands that had been mindlessly picking at one another, and sheathed them in his pockets. "One of those that I could not save."

"And now?"

Max looked up at her, examining her clean face. It was free of filth, free of grease, and she looked more tired without them. But more human, more beautiful. And if he were the type to smile at such a petty thing, he would have.

"Now, she is of the Citadel clan, ruled by the tyrant, Furiosa."

A smile crept across her face. "What will you do now?"

There was a pregnant silence. She knew the answer, and wondered why she had even questioned him. She didn't truly want to hear it. She never did.

"I'll make my own way."

He stood from the hood and started toward the door. She took a heavy step to the left, reached out her metallic arm. His right shoulder met her left, as she blocked him, and she grasped at the front of his shirt.

"Where?"

He said nothing, staring at her with a creased brow.

Her chest heaved, and she knew he could feel it against his broad shoulder. She looked up at him with wanting eyes, silently pleading with him to change his mind—to stay. But the side of his lip twitched in the faintest of smiles, and he inhaled deeply, shutting his eyes, and leaned forward.

His forehead knocked against hers, and she shut her own eyes at the contact, her once rigid body finally relaxing. And they stayed like that for what could have been moments, minutes, or hours. Neither knew.

"Across the salts," he growled, and finally stepped away.

Furiosa's brow creased, as she watched him leave, out the doorway, and back into the dark bowels of the Citadel.

Three weeks had passed, and she hadn't seen him again after their first encounter. There had been whisperings amongst the Citadel wives. Rumors that he had gone off to save the Bullet Farm wives, or that he had finally gone into the desert to die alone. Eve had watched as Toast had scoffed at them.

"He's wandering. It's what he does," she would snap, annoyed by their obsessions.

But twenty one days had passed, and Furiosa had said not a word about his absence. And she began to wonder if he would ever return.

The Soft had taken a liking to the gardens, and spent hours planting seeds and harvesting with The Dag. And Eve was grateful for that. The babies were safe in the quiet and fresh caverns of the Citadel. And many nights she would find Honor hanging from the bottom of a rig, silently watching as Capable dismantled and rebuilt engines.

And Eve would find Toast the Knowing watching her, always. And so she had begun shadowing Toast, going where she went, doing as she did. And as the three weeks passed, Toast had grown a fondness for her, and began sharing information about the Citadel with her. Shown her where the water was pumped up out of the earth, where the weaponry was. Even helped her perfect her aim with the rifles and shotguns.

"Furiosa wants to make trade with Bartertown, but we are too small in numbers," she had said on the twenty second night, as both her and Eve huddled under the light of a lantern. She placed a sun kissed finger on a massive map. "The road is too dangerous, and Aunty Entity in a ruthless ruler. But if we could make peace with them, we would have ample access to glass and metals. The Citadel could benefit greatly."

Even stared down at the map, at the long stretch of highway that separated the Citadel from Bartertown. It sliced through canyons and empty spaces, ending where the salts began.

"We could do it," Eve said, tapping a finger to her lips. "It would be a skeleton crew, but we could manage it," she reached over and grabbed blueprints of the War Rig, that had been pinned to the corner of the map. "Furiosa at the helm," she tapped her finger against the driver's seat. "Capable and Honor in the hold beneath the cabin. She can repair anything that breaks, that way we won't have to stop. I'll sit in the tail, our eyes and ears in the back. And you," she tapped the passenger seat, "Co-pilot."

Toast sighed and leaned back, "She would not let me go. I must be here to run the Citadel."

Eve heaved a heavy sigh as well, going back over the map and blueprints. "Will there ever be enough to survive in this wasteland?" she muttered.

"When Max returns with word from Bartertown. That is our hopes."

Eve's ears perked. "Max? He is coming back?"

Toast shrugged, leaning back on her heels. "Yea, any day now. He and Furiosa spoke of her plans, I suppose. Said he had someone in Bartertown who could grant us passage into the city. Said he would do this for her and she would give him one of the War Rigs in return. For his trip."

"Trip?" her chest was heaving, eye wide.

Toast nodded. "Yea, his trip across the salts."

Eve smiled faintly and let her shoulders relax. "He's doing it after all…" she breathed. "He's still a dreamer."

It was another eight days before he turned up, his Interceptor moaning across the Fury Road and back into the rocks of the Citadel. He pulled it into the garage and Capable and Honor had immediately began dismantling to puttering engine.

"Hey, hey," he growled, grabbing Capable by the wrist. "Easy on the goods."

She smiled and eagerly tore her wrist free, and threw open the hood. And he climbed the stairs into the Citadel, skipping a step with each leap.

"Max!" Cheedo had cried, racing toward him and throwing her arms around him, a dozen War Pups trailing behind her. He had gone rigid and waited until she pulled away before putting her head and moving on.

When he stepped into the room that was the mouth of the Citadel, where the waters pooled, Furiosa had stood with Toast and Eve, around the table of maps. He stood in the doorway for a moment, silently. And Eve was the only one to notice him, lifting her head, her straight face unwavering.

And he simply stared back at her, a deep crease in his brow. His breathing became labored and he clenched his jaw, the muscles there bulging.

Finally, Furiosa, noticing Eve to be listening no longer, lifted her head to find him standing there. She broke into a smile and stood fully, placing her hands on her hips.

"I thought you had died in the desert."

A silent moment passed before he finally tore his gaze from Eve's, directing it to Furiosa's. He slowly strolled towards her, watching through his peripherals as Eve took a step back and exited the room.

"You've been granted entrance into Bartertown."

Eve escaped to the gardens, finding solace in the quiets of the caverns. The Dag and The Soft had been tending to the gardens on top of the Citadel in the past week, and so the caverns had become a safe haven to her.

The air in there was fresh and cold, smiling of deep soils and spices. She would weave in and out of the hanging trellises, allowing the hanging vines to brush her cheeks and shoulders as she passed. She would often read there, from the library that dwelled within the safe that used to hold the wives.

But today, she merely paced back and forth, weaving in and out of the hanging rows, until she could calm her nerves. And finally after an hour, she turned to walk down one of the rows, but stopped.

Max stood silently at the other end.

Her heart rate kicked up a notch, and she contemplated walking toward him. But turned and began walking along the edges of the rows. After a moment, she noticed Max to be doing the same, his gaze on her the entire time.

Occasionally she would catch him shaking his head furiously, only to be calm a moment later. And after a few minutes, she finally stopped, and they both stepped into a row and approached one another. And when they finally stood before one another, she averted her gaze, finding the sand floor to become highly interesting in that moment.

"Are you afraid?" he spoke lowly. "Of me?"

She shook her head, her gaze still toward the floor. And after a moment, she felt his knuckle find its way under her chin, and lifted her face to look at him.

His eyes slowly scanned her face, as though memorizing every curve. He blinked heavily, and then snapped his face in a single shake, before shutting his eyes. His breathing became labored, his grip tightening on her chin.

She knew what was coming, and quickly took a step back, but he grabbed her by the arm. "Don't go," he snapped, his eyes shut. And she froze, watching as his chest heaved as he fought his inner demons. And as the seconds past, his breathing seemed to be under control, his grip loosening. And he opened his eyes.

She waited a moment, waiting to see if he was Max, or the tormented soul. And when she saw his eyes soften, she knew him to be all right. She stepped forward, and cupped his face in her hands.

"You grew up," she whispered, running her thumbs along the skin under his eyes. "You're different than I imagined you to be," she breathed.

He said nothing, simply stared down at her with softened eyes. Her thumbs brushed his skin, over and over and over. And he resisted the needs to shut his eyes against the feeling. But she then moved the pads of her thumbs across his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, then his eyes. Forcing him to shut them.

She placed one of her hands against his chest, feeling his heart thundering beneath it. And with her other hand, she ran her thumb across his thick lips. They separated on their own accord, and her breath hitched in her throat. She held her thumb to his bottom lip and took a step forward. His heart drummed faster beneath her hand and his eyes opened slowly.

"It was you," she whispered, and took a deep breath before the plunge, the leap of faith, the thing that terrified her the most. She pressed her mouth to his, tasting the sun and sand and water against his lips. And he was still for a moment, as she held her lips to his. And she grew frustrated with his lack of a reaction and with the hand over his chest, grabbed a handful of her shirt and pulled herself closer to him.

Her hips collided against his, and she felt his go rigid for a second, sucking a sharp breath in at the contact. A low moan erupted from deep in his chest, and instantly, she felt his hand snap against the back of her skull and his mouth press forcefully against her own.

It was bruising, as though it was something that he had been waiting to do for years. As though he had simply been so desperate for human contact that his body craved it—that he was no longer to be controlled. And he devoured her, his hands everywhere, and she welcomed it.

And finally he broke away for air, but she held them together, her nose pressed into his cheek.

"It was always supposed to be you."

He went rigid at her words, his body locking down and he quickly pulled away from her. His jaw clenched as he stared down at her, his face cold and emotionless.

"No," he breathed, taking another step back. "No, he's still alive."

"Who?"

He breathed hard. "My brother."

Furiosa had wandered for what seemed like a lifetime, trying to find him. Plans. She needed to discuss the plans with him… That's what she told herself, at least. She wondered if she really did just want to see his face after so long of him being gone. She hated herself for it. She didn't need him. She didn't need anyone.

Finally, she had stepped into the gardens to seek him out. And she had seen their feet beneath the hanging trellises, and had approached them. But upon reaching the end of the row, she had seen then, deep in an intimate embrace, his mouth on hers, his hands frantically searching for something to hold on to.

And she fought down the anger that arose in her chest, pulled back her shoulders and turned up her chin and walked on.

Because she didn't need him. She didn't need anyone.

But wanting someone was different.

Reviews are always greatly appreciated!

Thanks!