A/N: Thank you all so much for the feedback! In case I wasn't specific enough, I take my bribes in the form of reviews. Consider me sufficiently incentivised to post this one early.
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Sometime in the morning, Tessa comes to relieve him of his vigil.
"Have you slept at all?" she asks.
His head shakes negative and drops into his hands. His words come out muffled. "If she… I didn't want her to…"
The older woman understands. "Put your shirt back on," she says with a teasing lilt to her voice, "And go find a place to sleep."
He looks down. Dag came to retrieve Verdant hours ago, and he forgot he wasn't wearing one. The bruise looks awful, and it pounds painfully beneath his skin. He stands up and grabs the shirt from the floor. The tightening muscles of his shoulders and neck protest as he pulls it over his head. One sleeve is stiff with dried blood, but he has worn worse. He looks at the evidence of her draining life with distaste, then pointedly ignores it. Tessa takes the chair, holding Furiosa's hand and murmuring words to her as he passes.
Holding his jacket loosely in one hand, he leans over to press his lips to Fury's temple, beyond caring what the grey-haired woman reads into the gesture.
He wanders through the main room of the infirmary. There is less sound in the room now, fewer people. The beds are still full.
He doesn't have the energy to ride the cage to the top and walk all the way to Fury's room. He wouldn't have the heart to sleep there without her anyways. Not today. Maybe not ever.
So he finds an empty space along the wall outside in the shade, rolls his jacket into a ball, and falls asleep with his head on it, surrounded by the dozens of others waiting there.
It is Dag who wakes him later, holding a plate heaping with food. He realises he hasn't eaten since before the battle a day ago and takes it gratefully, devouring it before saying a word. She sits next to him, watching and waiting with Verdant in a sling across her torso.
"Last night," she says as he sets the plate down, "With her," she nods to the sleeping baby. "You've done that before."
"Yeah."
She doesn't pry, instead telling him that he's good at it.
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Thanks."
"Come on. Let's go see how she's doing," Dag says as she rises gracefully to her feet.
It takes Max longer. Today everything hurts. Between the accident the day before and sleeping on the hard ground, his muscles have stiffened up, and the bruises are a steady throbbing reminder of the trauma he put his body through. Eventually he manages to gain his feet, creaking and wincing as he follows the slender blonde through the press of waiting people to the door.
The crowd has slowly dispersed while he slept. There are only a couple dozen hovering outside the building now.
A woman in her thirties stands in the doorway to the infirmary, looking bored. She meets the Dag's gaze and nods. The blonde walks into the dark space beyond.
The woman puts an arm out to block Max entrance. "Sorry, I can't let you in."
Max levels her with a withering glare. She is unmoved, staring right back until Dag returns and places a hand on her shoulder. "This is Max," she tells the woman. "He's a friend. He gets full access."
The woman gives the Dag a confused look over her shoulder, but lets her arm drop and watches as the strange man walks side-by-side with the Sister, their arms brushing. She has never seen or heard of him.
Max is not sure if Fury's colour is better or if he's making up a reason to hope. Capable and Cheedo are standing on the other side of the table, speaking in low tones. He meets their eyes in turn and greets them with a nod. The doctor walks in behind him.
The others in the room look on in silence as Addams checks her over. Finally, he turns to the Sisters. "The bullet went in through her upper shoulder, in the back. It lodged just below her collarbone. There's no organ damage, but she did lose a lot of blood. We had to do transfusions from three different donors."
Max notices the mark on the inside of Capable's elbow. She meets his eyes and nods slightly.
"She's damn lucky. If that bullet had been a hair higher, she'd have bled out before you managed to get her here."
Max swallows hard and his eyes slam shut. Something soft touches his hand, and he finds that Capable is standing at his side. She wraps her hand around his, gripping hard. It is the solid tether he needs at the moment, and he hangs on.
"Right now what she needs most is rest and as much fluids as we can get into her. Hopefully in a few days she'll be walking around again, but she'll have to take it easy for a few weeks. She'll stay here for the next couple of days at least." There is a bag much like the one they'd attached to him the first time he'd come back, snaking clear fluid down into her arm.
"If you'll excuse me, I have other patients to see to," Addams finishes, already turning away.
"Max," the Dag says, "Has anyone taken a look at your chest?"
A quick shake of his head tells her no. "Doctor Addams," she says, "Max here was injured yesterday. Could you take a look?"
"Sure. Let's check you out in the next room."
Max follows him out, sitting up on the empty table in the third room, as ordered by the gruff doctor. Trying to pull his shirt off, he discovers he can't raise his arms above shoulder height.
"Pretty stiff?" the doctor asks.
"Yeah."
"Mind if I just hold your shirt up to look?"
He lets his arms fall to his sides. "Go ahead."
The doctor does, pressing the fingers of one hand into the long raised road of purple that bisects his torso. The man's grey eyebrow shoots up. "Did you have a beam dropped on you?"
"Seatbelt."
"Whatever you hit, you must have hit pretty hard."
"Was trying to."
"Whatever for?" Addams asks.
"Seen the wreckage from the battle?" Max asks.
The doctor leans back and lets Max's shirt fall, crossing his arms. "Briefly."
"That semi they were trying to use as a battering ram? I was driving the truck that's inside the front fender."
Addams swears under his breath and probes the bruises harder.
Max hisses air through his teeth.
"I don't think you broke anything, though I can't for the life of me figure out how."
"Braced my arms on the steering wheel and got lucky the cab didn't collapse," Max replies.
"You don't live here. This isn't your home," the man says, rolling back one of Max's sleeves without asking.
The statement is true, but for some reason hearing it hurts.
"You come here, get patched up, and leave. Why would you risk your life like that?" As the doctor suspected, the underside of both arms are swollen and blue.
"This is one of the last good places left in the world. It should be protected," Max replies simply.
"So why don't you stay?" asks the man.
"Couldn't before. Thinking about it now." He'd like Fury to be the first to hear that he plans to stay. It seems wrong to say it to anyone else.
The doctor nods, and Dag appears in the open doorway. "She's awake," she says before disappearing again.
Addams beats Max back to the room, going straight to her side to check her vitals.
Max watches from the doorway, leaning on the wall.
Her eyes are open, but they are out-of-focus and pinched around the edges. She moans and turns to where the three Sisters hover at her bedside, and it looks as though that little move of her head is all she can muster the energy for.
"Citadel… safe?" she croaks.
Cheedo clutches her upper arm. "Yes. Safe. We've got everything under control. You just worry about getting better."
A line appears between her eyebrows. "Max?" she asks, though she seems to be speaking about him rather than to him.
"I'm here," he says, moving around the foot of the bed to stand next to the Sisters. They part to let him close, and he wraps his hand around the end of her half-arm, stroking his thumb back and forth just below the crease of her elbow.
She swallows. "Thought maybe that was a dream."
He grabs his shirt with his free and pulls it up high enough to show her the bruise. "Nope."
The corner of her mouth lifts ever-so slightly. "Fool, you have excellent timing." And incredible luck, she adds silently. Her throat is too dry to waste the words. She looks at the Sisters. "Keeping the Citadel running without me?"
Capable steps up next to Max and gently lays a hand on her uninjured shoulder. "We've got this. Rest. Heal."
Addams has retrieved a bottle of water and holds it up for Furiosa. She drinks slowly and carefully, but finishes the entire container.
"If you don't mind, the patient needs her rest. One of you can stay, as long as you're quiet," says the doctor.
The Sisters decide among themselves that Cheedo will take the first shift. Capable and Dag each kiss Furiosa on the forehead in turn before leaving.
Capable takes his free hand as she walks by, tugging gently. "She'll be up for talking later," she promises. Max releases Fury with a gentle squeeze. Her eyes are already closed, and Cheedo has moved around the table to sit in the chair, holding her hand.
Capable keeps hold of him as she leads him out, with the Dag trailing behind them. "You need some sleep," the redhead informs him, releasing him as they step outside. "In a real bed."
He crosses his arms. "Fine. Where?"
His opposition to the idea of staying in Furiosa's room without her is written in every line on his body.
"You can stay with Tessa and Defiance," Dag suggests. They rarely call them the Vuvalini anymore. It brings up too many memories of all those lost on the way.
"Where?" he asks.
"They have a canopy, up in the Green."
That is a long way from Fury. They see the protest in his eyes. "Go up there. Get one good night's rest. Furiosa is already on the mend, and we'll keep an eye on her. Get some sleep, and then you can come back down here and pace, or sleep on the floor, or whatever it is you do," Dag tells him with a little push towards the lift. "Go or I'll have you locked in Isolation until I deem you rested."
The little blonde's gaze is unrelenting, and the way Capable is standing at her back tells him he's outnumbered. "Fine. Show me."
The ride up to the Green is tense. Frustration seethes off Max in waves and he is all but pacing in the swaying cage. The Sisters ignore him in favour of peering at the sleeping Verdant. After they reach the top they lead him through a short tunnel to an open area with rows of young trees. The only time he's been here is when she gave him the tour, months and months ago.
The Vuvalini's sleeping quarters is a simple piece of canvas stretched out from the top of a boulder to the ground. There are two bedrolls beneath, and belongings stacked against the rock face. Defiance is sitting on one of the bedrolls. Her eyes are tired as she spies Max flanked by the two sisters.
"Heard you were here. Got a good look at the carnage you wreaked while I was helping the Boys tow the wrecks in. Nice work," she says.
He nods acknowledgement, and his eyelids are heavy.
"Can he sleep here?" asks the Dag.
Defiance nods to the empty bedroll. "Tessa's doing a shift on the wall. Stay as long as you need to."
The day's grief and pain are catching up to him, and it's all he can do not to fall into the empty bed.
"Wait," says Capable as he starts to lower himself.
He groans, unwilling to delay sleep any longer.
"Let me get that shirt off you. I can get it cleaned while you sleep."
He looks down at his blackened sleeve with distaste, narrowly deciding against asking her to just burn it instead. "Okay." He raises his arms stiffly. "I can't…"
"It's okay. I can do it." She is very gentle as she eases the shirt off him, and avoids touching his skin. Once the garment is off, he collapses bonelessly on top of the bedroll, and is asleep in seconds.
"Keep an eye on him for us?" asks Dag.
Defiance nods. "I have him."
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Tessa is there when he wakes, with a waiting full plate.
He visits Fury often over the next couple of days, though she is rarely awake and when she is, not for long. She is slowly getting better, and they ease off the constant vigil. He notices her abandoned prosthetic lying on a table in her room in the infirmary and takes it up to the vault, carefully cleaning and oiling it at her workbench.
On one of his visits, he returns it to the side table where he'd found it. He covers it with a towel to keep the dust out. When she is ready for it, it will be ready for her.
He goes into her room in the vault. Just once.
It looks just the same, but it feels bereft without her in it. He can't bear to think of the last time he was there. When he'd woken with her in his arms, alive and healthy.
And then he'd left. Right after she'd asked him to stay.
He notices his grey bracelet around her right wrist the next time he goes to visit. Leaving it had been his apology.
He assumes her wearing it means he's forgiven.
He spends some time in the garage, tinkering with and tweaking his new car. He keeps aloof of the War Boys that work there. They still remind him all too much of hanging upside down, and being strapped to the front of a car with a suicidal madman behind the wheel.
They also remind him of Nux, who was a different person altogether from the dying boy who maniacally asked him to Witness.
Sometimes he misses the kid. Under all the paint and the brainwashing, he had been kind of sweet.
He continues to sleep under the canopy in the Green next to the last of the Many Mothers. After the first night, a third bedroll appears there. He finds himself strangely comfortable sleeping beneath the stars next to the fierce warriors.
He walks the full length of the wall, looking for weaknesses and places that can be reinforced, and returns with some ideas to bring to Fury when she is feeling better.
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Four days in, Furiosa is ready to strangle everyone. She is tired of being an invalid, and tired of feeling weak, and she is tired of her friends refusing to tell her anything that is going on outside of the infirmary.
Max recognises her restless energy when he comes by that afternoon. "They still keeping you prisoner here?" he asks.
She replies with a hard glare and he backs away from the table with his hands up, nearly colliding with Doctor Addams.
"Actually," he replies to Max's question, "If you have people nearby to help keep you from overdoing it, there is no reason we can't move you back to your room."
Fury leans her head back and sighs. "Finally."
"Any reason she can't put her arm on?" asks Max.
"None whatsoever. The straps are well clear of her injury. She does need to take it very slow for the first few days. Too much movement can jar the wound, or shift the bandage. If you pull the stitches and reopen the wound and no one is around to help you, you could still bleed out," he adds, addressing Furiosa.
"She won't be alone," Max promises.
"Inviting yourself back to my room?" she asks with a dangerous edge to her voice.
Max ignores her willful misreading of his statement, and both he and Fury miss the doctor's startled reaction to her words.
He'd known they were close, but that explained a lot.
"Not at all," Max replies evenly. "There are enough of us around to keep you from having to manage on your own."
"Oh," says Fury, suddenly deflated. She hadn't been truly angry with Max, just frustrated with the situation. She took it out on him simply because he was the nearest target.
One look in his eyes tells her he knows that, and is completely unfazed by it. Part of her wants to hit him for that. The other part is glad he cares enough to put up with it.
He has turned to a table by the wall, and is peeling back a towel to reveal her arm.
Of course it's her arm. She's surprised she didn't recognise the shape before now.
She has spent most of her time in this room sleeping.
Max picks up her prosthetic like it is something fragile and valuable rather than a sturdy tool capable of holding her weight, and carries it to her.
It is clean. Meeting his eyes, she cocks her head.
He simply holds it up so she can slide her half-arm into it, awkwardly wrapping the belts around her back for her when she sits up. The mobility on her good arm is restricted by her wound, but she does up the belts herself, shrugging her shoulder to get the straps in place.
Her arm is on once more. She wiggles her fingers, and realises that not only is it clean, it has been carefully oiled. "Your doing?" she asks.
He nods. "Had some time on my hands," he says by way of explanation.
At first she's not sure how she feels about him handling a part of her that no one touches but her. But she realises the care and time he's put into making sure it was ready and waiting, and chooses to accept it for the gift it was intended to be.
"Thank-you."
He shrugs and brings her boots from the corner as she sits with her legs hanging over the edge of the table, and he holds them up with a questioning glance. "Can you?" she asks, hating herself for the kind of weakness that makes such a simple task all but impossible.
He squats down and gets them on quickly and efficiently before standing to help her down off the table, bracing her with a grip on her arm. Her breath hisses between her teeth, and he shifts his hand from her arm to the middle belt that supports her prosthetic, sliding his fingers underneath and holding her up from there instead.
She takes a couple of hesitant steps, and finds that if she is very careful not to move her right arm, walking is possible. It hurts, but Max's hand is steady on her back and she knows if she falls, he will catch her.
All eyes turn to her as they make their way slowly through the infirmary, and Max has the odd impression that they see not a weak, wounded woman, but a triumphant returning hero.
A cheer goes up as they reach the doorway, and the crowd is all awe and smiles. They part reluctantly for their injured leader. Max and Fury are painstakingly making their way to the lift when Toast jogs up from the direction of the wall.
"Why didn't you call for one of us to help?" she asks irritably, addressing both of them.
"She's impatient," is Max's reply.
Toast nods and sighs. "You got her?" she asks Max.
He adjusts his grip on the belt and nods.
Fury's legs are shaking now, and she looks pale again. "Are you alright?" Toast asks before Max gets a chance to.
Fury nods with a hard swallow. "Just tired."
The cage door rattles as they climb in, and Max knows she won't be able to keep her balance on the shaky ride up. A glance to Toast asks the dark-haired woman to take over steadying Furiosa, and she steps in to brace the taller woman without speaking.
Max sits down in the cage with his back wedged into the corner and motions Toast to lower Furiosa to his lap.
"What are you doing?" Fury asks over her shoulder.
"Making you a comfortable seat," he replies, "Before you fall over."
They get her settled in between his legs with her back to his chest, their legs stretched out in front of them.
The last time he held her like this he'd thought she was dying. He knows she's okay now, but the feelings that creep up as he sits there are hard to push back down. He closes his eyes for a moment, reminding himself where they are and that she is healing already.
Toast stands in the other back corner, steadying herself with a hand wrapped around the bars. Furiosa is silent, leaning her head back against Max's shoulder with her eyes closed against the nausea that the swaying lift brings.
"Easy," he says into her ear, stroking his hand over her short hair. "Just a little longer and you can go back to sleep. In your own bed."
She sighs, taking long even breaths through her nose.
Toast has to help Furiosa walk when they reach the top, as she and Max support her from both sides. Her steps are dragging and her face is covered in sweat as they reach the room. Max holds her steady as Toast undoes the buckles at her waist, gently removing her metal arm and hanging it in its place by the bed.
Once she is free of the prosthetic, Max lowers her down to the bed and removes her boots. Toast opens the bottom drawer of the dresser and pulls out an old ratty quilt and lays it over her leader, tucking it in around the woman's body as Max slips the pillow under her head. Fury is sleeping before they're done.
Max and Toast leave the room by unspoken agreement, pausing at the other end of the hall to talk. "I'm going to need to find the Sisters and let them know she's out."
"I'll stay," Max offers.
Toast nods and heads out of the vault, while Max moves the chair next to the bed and watches Fury sleep.
Capable and Dag find him there, hunched over with his head in his hand, elbow braced on his knee. Fast asleep.
The strain of being moved no longer shows on Furiosa's face, and she is peaceful in repose.
The Sisters decide to leave them in peace, asking Defiance, who is tending the plants within the dome, to keep an eye on them both.
Max wakes hours later to the sound of a clearing throat. Cheedo hands him a laden plate and gestures with her head towards the door. "My turn," she whispers.
His neck is stiff from the awkward position, and it cracks a couple of times as he stretches. He takes the plate with a nod of thanks and leaves the room with a quick glance to ensure that Fury is okay.
She is.
He eats at her work table, something that will soon become habit for him.
He doesn't notice the bedroll laid out against the wall just outside the corridor to her room until he is done eating. The bedroll has a green duffle bag sitting at the foot.
He smiles and whispers, "Tessa."
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Max wonders how Fury didn't go mad from sheer boredom during the days she stayed with him here. It's been a day and a half and he's had to go down to the garage twice just to make himself stop twitching.
For a man so accustomed to moving for so long, sitting still feels like death. Out in the wasteland, sitting still will literally kill you. In here, not so much.
Addams makes the trip up once a day to check on Furiosa. He changes her bandage, and seems pleased with her progress.
Two days after returning to her room, Fury is already trying to get back to work.
She snaps at the ones watching over her, and by mutual assent they cancel the bedside watch. Someone is always in the vault, but they leave her to her peace in the bedroom.
Max has been sleeping in the bedroll by the wall since he found it there. He finds it comforting to be close enough to aid, should Fury need it. She stopped accepting help after two days, and stopped needing it after four.
She can now sit up, eat, and dress herself without assistance. He never bothered offering to help her dress, leaving that to the women. The thought is too awkward to consider, and she'd likely kill him before letting him try.
That temper he encountered when they first met has returned. In full force.
On day five of her recuperation in the vault, she wakes Max with a nudge of his boot with hers. "I'm going down to take a tour of the damage," she informs him. "I assume you're my current keeper?"
He blinks up at her, not ready for conversation three seconds from waking. "Huh?"
She turns and makes her way through the tunnel. "I'm going," she repeats, and her voice echoes down the tunnel. "If you want to come, get to the lift before it leaves."
He scrambles to his feet and jogs after her, dragging a hand down his face.
You're in fine form this morning, he thinks with a glower at her retreating back, catching up long before they get to the lift.
When they reach the sand, he follows dazedly in her wake. She receives smiles and shouts of greeting everywhere she goes, and the occasional child runs up to hug her legs. The scowl that has been her mask of the last few days doesn't stand a chance against such an onslaught, and she breaks into a smile.
It brings him to full awareness immediately.
A true smile from her is so rare, and it holds him spellbound. It is as good as a shot of adrenaline, and wakes him instantly. He jogs to catch up and is now keeping pace with her.
Defiance is on guard atop the wall by the gate, and she calls down to Furiosa before clambering down, greeting her with the Vuvalini's press of foreheads. "It's good to see you out and about."
"If I had to spend one more day in that room, I may have killed one of my watchers," Furiosa replies wryly.
The blonde Vuvalini meets Max's eyes with a quirked eyebrow that says she thinks he'd have been the first to go.
The tic at the corner of his mouth tells her he agrees.
"So what was the damage?" Furiosa asks.
Defiance's countenance turns grave. "We lost 26 people, mostly War Boys. Another 38 wounded, both of you included."
Fury blinks. She'd forgotten Max's part in the battle. She turns to him and nods to his torso. He obliges, raising his shirt.
The bruise has faded to brown and yellow and green, and takes up an obscene amount of space across his chest. "How does it feel?" she asks.
"The throbbing has stopped. Hurts to the touch still," he admits. "But the stiffness is gone. I'm fine," he adds.
"Good." She turns back to the other woman. "Any prisoners?"
Defiance shakes her head, whipping her blonde braid back and forth. "After you got hit, everyone was killed in the chaos."
Fury nods. "Any vehicles salvaged?" she asks.
"Two trucks, three cars, and the semi. Head to the garage and take a look."
"And the wall?"
"Already repaired. The main purpose in the assault seemed to be to distract us until the rig arrived, so there wasn't much damage."
Fury nods, but something is bothering her. "Why so few? What did they hope to gain?"
"We ran out a scouting party. Found a whole bunch more tracks around the other side of the rock. Looks like there was a lot more waiting for the rig to do its job. Musta high-tailed it out of there when our boy here threw a wrench in their plans."
Shit. Max had been so wrapped up in the battle and the aftermath that he hadn't even thought of that.
Things could have gone so much worse.
"Guess we owe you even more than I thought," Fury says casually as she turns and starts towards the garage.
He grabs her by the arm, gaze intense as his eyes bore into hers. "No. You don't."
She meets his look calmly, searching his eyes. Finally nodding, she replies, "Okay."
He releases her and they keep walking. The sun beats down on them relentlessly and he feels sweat trickle down between his shoulders.
"Max?" she asks, stopping.
The action is so sudden that he walks right past her. He turns around. Her tone does not bode well.
"Mmm?" He reverts to non-verbal communication as his walls go up.
"Why are you back?"
It is a completely neutral, innocuous question, and it sends chills down his spine. He turns his head away from her, staring far away. He swallows hard. Licks his lips. Takes a deep breath.
His words are so soft she can barely hear them. "Decided to stay," he says past the lump in his throat.
There. The words are out. He's said it.
Can't take it back.
It is the hardest decision he's ever made and he is fucking terrified.
A hand closes around his, the metal of it warm against his skin. Another touches his chin, gently turning it to face her. His eyes are cast down, so he misses the wetness trailing down her cheeks. Until he sees a single droplet hit the sand at their feet, exploding in a tiny pop of dust.
He looks up, and her smile is brighter than the sun. Her hand slides around the back of his neck and she leans her forehead against his.
He finds his free hand has risen of its own accord and mirrored her action. There is wetness in his eyes as well, though he fights to keep it from falling.
He feels the tightness in his chest uncoil at her next words, and something inside him clicks into place so perfectly he can almost hear it. "Welcome home, Max."