I'm alive! I have been slammed with work and haven't been able to put out anything in a long time. So I tried to write something up quickly before I'm gone for a 3 week work trip. You guys are lovely and I love hearing your thoughts!

Please enjoy!

"We go at the week's end."

Max glanced up from his bowl of boiled greens. Furiosa had stormed in, like a bat out of hell with fists full of maps, clenching so hard her knuckles were rendered white. His brow creased as he leaned back into his steel seat, glancing at the wives, who had gone rigid at her forceful entry.

"Are we not ready?" Toast sputtered, placing her rusted utensil back into her cracked bowl.

Furiosa said nothing, slamming her maps down onto the surface of the table they had been seated at. In a rush, the wives lifted their bowls to allow further space. Max made no move, simply watching her from below his brow.

"We leave tomorrow and finish this damned plan. We complete this task and we won't have to return there again. And then you," she looked up, jutting a metallic digit in his direction. "Then you may finally be on your way."

His brows shot up and he pressed his boot to the edge of the table, using it as an anchor as he pressed his chair away, the feet screeching painfully against the stone floors. He rose, grabbing his rifle from off of the table and slinging it over his shoulder.

"I'll sit this one out, yea?" he breathed, turning and making for the door.

The wives watched silently as he left, then turned their gaze to Furiosa, who stood with clenched fists at her side. Her jaw muscles bulged in rage as she screwed her teeth shut.

"Go after him…" Capable breathed.

And with a deep breath, she pivoted on her heel and followed out the door.

"What are you doing?"

Eve's motions ceased at the quiet voice that drifted over her shoulder. She glanced back to see The Soft standing in the door frame, her slender shoulder leaned against the edge, her hand splayed over her ever-growing belly.

She was a lovely sight, with her blonde locks breaded in a way she had never seen before, laid over her shoulders and running between her swollen breasts. Yet Eve turned away in disgust, as the girl had slowly began morphing into one of the Citadel wives, swathed in white linens with breads running down her back. Eve had watched silently as the wives of Gastown and faded away.

"We're leaving," she snapped, grabbing fistfuls of the clothes the Citadel wives had provided for them, and shoved them into a large carpet bag. Her hands shook violently.

"Leaving? Where to?" The Soft breathed, stepping into the room, her bare feet swift against the stone. She reached out and tenderly caught one of Eve's hands, pulling it to her chest.

"Anywhere. We're free now, we can go anywhere," Eve sighed, clenching her fist in an attempt to cease its shaking. She looked up at The Soft, who watched her with large eyes. "We are not anyone's property. We are our own people and are free to go where we like."

The Soft said nothing as Eve pulled her hand free, and continued forcing items into her already over bloated bag.

"We like it here, Evening."

Eve's movements ceased, and she could no longer fight the storm that tore through her insides. Her shoulders collapsed and she quickly grasped her face to hide the emotions that tore free from her barrier.

She broke open, and wondered whether she would ever be able to put herself back together again.

Furiosa was sure to use her metallic grip when she caught Max at the back of his shirt. The false grip was stronger, colder, harsher. And she was no longer attempting pleasantries with him.

"You cannot sit this one out. We made a deal," she snapped, pulling him to a halt.

And she had no time to prepare, or even expect it, as he snapped around, knocking her grip free, and causing her to stumble a couple of steps back. She watched as he drew a large, intimidating breath, his shoulders swelling and his head turning down to gaze at her from below his brow. She guessed this was an action meant to intimidate, something he might have used when face to face with an aggressive opponent. But after just a brief moment, his body jolted as a horror tore through him, and he snapped his head back and forth and took a step back.

"We made a deal," she breathed.

"Our deal was that I would find you entrance, and I have," he growled, taking a step forward. He was not much taller than her, but in that moment, he made her feel small. "I will take my rig and shall make my own way."

He turned a massive shoulder and continued down the dark corridor. Furiosa stood silent for a moment, jaw clenched. "You are naught but a coward, you poor, tormented man," she cried, slamming her steel fist into the wall.

And he disappeared into the darkness once again.

It had taken Honor and The Soft two days to coax Eve from her notions of departure. They had torn her hands from the linens, the carpet bags, the door frame.

"After they make their deal," Evening had whispered, holding Honor close one night. "Then I am at peace with departing… We leave on good terms. No bridges burnt."

She knew that if she busied herself with plans to trade with Bartertown, he would not creep to the forefront of her thoughts. "It would be better for him to be dead," Max had said to her, and she knew it was not said out of spite. But rather some notion that death would have been more peaceful for the boy she once loved.

She wondered now what had become of him. What he looked like, who he was.

"He lives?" she had breathed, clutching at the front of Max's shirt.

He had nodded, his face cold as stone.

"Where is he? I must see him."

"He is not the boy you remember. I imagine you'll meet him again," he had muttered, taking a step away from her.

"Bring me to him," she had pleaded after him, grasping at his clothing.

"I will not."

And he had departed, with not another word. He avoided her was days after that, and she wondered if he intended to ever look upon her again. And as they prepared for Bartertown, she clung to Toast and busied herself. She thought not of Sevan nor Max. She only thought of leaving the Citadel and finding a new life out in the sand and sun.

She did not need this place. Nor did she need him.

Nor his brother.

It was hot—like a fire lit within the caverns of her belly. She could hardly draw air into her lungs, her breaths short and labored. A tight grasp on her hips, holding her still, not allowing her to twist and turn. Finger nails dug into flesh and hair.

A hot mouth igniting the fire within, causing her to arch up, head back, mouth open. But he held her tighter, pulling her closer to his tongue—wanting to taste everything. She grasped furiously at the top of his head with her steel grip, her fleshly hand anchored to his wrist, holding on as though she were to drown.

"Say it," he growled, and she could feel the words against her sensitive flesh.

His stubble brushed against her and she moaned in response. She clutched at his hair harder, attempting to direct him back to her skin—to finish what he started. But he pressed back against her grasp in defiance.

"Say it."

She opened her eyes to look at him now, meeting his cold gaze. Her mouth fell open slightly.

"I…. I want…" she stopped short, taking a sharp breath as he released a hot breath of air against her flesh. His fingers clamped harder onto her hips.

"Say it," he growled.

Her face straightened, her body relaxing.

"I want you."

Furiosa jolted awake, her body seizing against the steel doorframe she had been leaned against. The vehicle rumbled against the sand, navigating across the Fury Road. The sky was painted red in the first sunlight of the day, like blood across the stars.

"Good dream?"

She glanced to her side. He stared at her, as he leaned back against the seat, hand resting lazily against the steering wheel. His jaw was set as he watched her, the muscles bulging.

"Nightmare," she breathed.

"Didn't sound like it."

Her gaze snapped to his before she quickly averted her eyes. "Let me drive so you can sleep," she breathed, readjusting herself within her seat.

He shook his head. "I find more rest there," he jutted his chin toward the sand road ahead of them. "than what I find when I close my eyes."

"How long until Bartertown?"

He swiped the back of his hand across his brow. The sun was barely up and already sweltering heat lingered in the air. "Another night's drive."

She looked over into the backseat of the War Rig. "Where are the wives?"

Max said nothing for a moment. "Honor is asleep underneath the cabin. Toast and Eve, in the back."

Furiosa sighed and leaned back into the rotting leather of her seat. She rolled her head to the side, cheek bone pressed to the flesh of the seat and inhaled the long forgotten scent that lingered beneath the dust and rot—fresh leather. A delicacy. And she wondered if she only imagined it half the time.

"Do you believe it was right of me to leave Capable at the helm?" she breathed, staring out across the sand. "Such a young, innocent girl."

Max said nothing.

The rifle was propped against the mouth of the back cabin, staring out at the sand they left behind. Her cheek would surely bruise, pressed against the wooden butt of the gun, staring down the scope.

"You can give it a rest. Anyone that comes within a hundred mile radius, we will see them in this wasteland. Sit back," Toast spoke, leaned lazily against the steel interior of the cabin.

Eve sighed and pulled the rifle into her lap, seating herself across from Toast.

There was a pregnant silence as the rig continued to roar across the sand, jostling as it occasionally passed over a dune or pot hole in the weather road.

"You love him?" Toast spoke, staring at Eve through half-shut lashes. "Mad Max."

Eve's brow creased. "Max, what?" she smiled faintly.

She shrugged. "Furiosa calls him that when he's in a foul mood. Which is the majority of the time… He's a distressed soul."

Eve said nothing for a moment. "Does she love him?"

Toast now locked her gaze on Eve, fully awake now. A moment paused and Eve wondered if she would even respond anymore.

"I believe she does."

"And you?" Eve nearly whispered.

Toast laughed. "I haven't an eye for the filthy mad man." She smiled, curling her back against the corner of the cabin, pulling her ragged coat tighter around her shoulders. She nestled her body closer to the wall and shut her eyes.

"No," Eve breathed. "I meant, do you love her?"

Toast said nothing.

Let me know what you guys think!