Chapter Text
*Now beta'd, thank you KT!
Furiosa watched as Max paused to wipe sweat from his brow. It was early summer at the Citadel and scorchingly hot, but he hadn’t removed his jacket and scarf since he’d arrived that morning. Furiosa saw no point in arguing with him, so she’d just watched him lumber on uncomfortably and occasionally passed him her canteen of water. He really should know better by now.
This was Max’s fourth visit to the Citadel since the day of the liberation. Each time, he was warmly welcomed and the Sisters – formerly the Wives – always begged him to stay. But after a few days, it would become clear – to Furiosa, at least - that being around so many people was starting to make him uneasy. So they’d load him up with food, water, and guzzoline and he’d be off. He never promised to return.
He always did.
Furiosa thought it was fitting that he'd shown up today of all days, though she was sure he hadn’t planned it. By her count, it was just about a year since Max had helped her and the Sisters to remove Immortan Joe from power. A lot had changed in that time, much of it for the better, and though she was always careful to point out that those changes were the result of a group effort, she couldn’t help but feel a hint of pride in being able to show it all off. Especially to him.
His last visit, she had shown him the new work they’d done on installing plumbing to collect water more effectively and irrigate the crops above them. Between Dag’s management of the gardens and the advice of the Vuvalini woman known as Water-Bearer, they seemed well on their way to being able to sustain their current population, if not more.
The visit before that, she’d taken him on a tour of the vast array of rooms in the Citadel that Joe had kept for himself and his family. They watched the former war boys – Brothers, as Capable had dubbed them – as some stripped the rooms of any non-necessities that could be used as building material while others redistributed furniture so that as many people as possible could have a room with at least some degree of privacy.
Max had responded to all of these improvements with a gentle hum and an occasional suggestion for how to improve efficiency. Furiosa felt she knew Max well enough by this point to take this as the praise it was meant to be.
That afternoon, she was taking him around the acre or so of land surrounding the Citadel that was currently occupied by a steadily increasing number of civilians – formerly known as “the Wretched.” She wanted him to get a good lay of the land so he could give her his thoughts on their current plans for defense. She wasn’t sure, but she had the impression that he’d done some sort of military or law enforcement work in his life before and she wanted to take advantage of that knowledge.
Once they’d made a circle around the perimeter, Furiosa led him into the heart of the former shantytown the civilians called home. If Max’s louder than usual hum of approval was anything to go by, he was highly impressed by the drastic difference in their lifestyles, even from a few months ago.
Furiosa and her council had worked hard to ensure that everyone had as large a ration of food and water as possible. As people had grown stronger, they started doing work in return. Now, there were farmers, mechanics, construction workers, and even History Men and Women to record events and teach the youngest members of their society about the world before. When they weren’t being educated, the former war pups helped carry those materials that could be spared the Citadel down to the civilians. Builders had begun transforming tattered lean-tos into weatherproof structures that allowed for safe storage and even a small amount of personal space.
Everywhere they went, people recognized Furiosa and greeted her with an enthusiasm previously reserved for the appearance of water. A few gave Max a second glance, but none could quite identify him. She understood now the purpose of the jacket and scarf. With the collar up and the scarf half-covering his face, none of the citizens had a hope of recognizing him as the mysterious hero who helped save them only to vanish. He preferred it that way. Furiosa might too, if she had the choice. Their gratitude had always served as a reminder that her motives for starting on the path that led them here had been less than altruistic. But now wasn't the time to pursue that train of thought. At least Max seemed to be getting a good deal of amusement out of their dedication to her.
As the day wore on and the sun dipped below the horizon, the crowds of citadel workers began to return to their homes. A large bonfire was started and citizens made their way towards it. The farmers unloaded sacks of vegetables to be roasted and beans to be boiled as others passed around fresh canteens of water and chatted amiably.
Furiosa and Max were offered food and Max hesitated, aware that generous portions awaited them back in the Citadel. She felt it would be rude not to accept and took bowls for both of them.
Max nodded approvingly as he ate. “Like real food.”
“That’s all thanks to Dag. She’s been growing herbs for flavoring. The one on there is thyme, she also has seeds for rosemary and basil…” Furiosa trailed off. Basil. That seemed to trigger something in her mind, a memory she couldn’t quite place…
“Um, hey.” Max was looking at her with concern. She shook off the strange feeling and tried to recall what she had been saying, but was interrupted by the sudden sound of a drum. Max started and whipped his head around until he located the source – an old man playing a drum that appeared to have been salvaged from the Doof Wagon. Furiosa put a calming hand on his shoulder and, after a moment, he relaxed into her touch.
Those who had finished eating were getting up to dance as the drummer found his rhythm. Though Furiosa refused multiple invitations to get up and join them, she was surprised by how much she was enjoying being there. She had vague memories of nights like this one, back when she was young, and she would have never thought she’d experience anything like it again.
As the beat picked up and more people crowded around the fire, some began to move closer to one another. She watched as a man who had been too sick to walk last year lifted his partner up and twirled her around before setting her down and pulling her tightly against him. Their hips moved together in a steady rhythm as the woman began to slowly trail a hand up her partner’s thigh.
Furiosa averted her eyes, uncomfortable. She glanced over to gauge Max’s reaction, but his face was unreadable, even lit up by the flickering fire. She caught herself staring and looked back to the dancers. It wasn’t as if his reaction mattered, anyway.
The couple she had been watching was gone. She saw others repeating the same pattern, moving close and then sneaking away.
She supposed it was a natural progression – now that people’s bodies were fed and hydrated, they would begin to become aware of other needs. That was all well and good for them, those who had never known Joe’s touch, had never been forced to confront the darkest depths of those urges that were leading them on. She, for one, had put all of those feelings behind her. Imperator Furiosa was above all that.
Max cleared his throat and she realized she had been staring blankly into the fire for some time now.
“You good on food and water for tonight?” she asked.
Max nodded and they began the walk back. As they wound their way through the mix of tents and huts, a woman’s voice called out for them to hold up. Max tensed and his hand went to the gun on his hip, but when the woman stepped out into the moonlight, it became apparent that she was not a threat. She was reedy, a bit older than Furiosa, and wearing so little clothing it would have been next to impossible for her to be hiding a weapon on her.
She took another step closer, her eyes focused in on Max. “Hey, handsome. Lookin' for a root? It’ll just run ya the value of a half bar of soap.”
Max appeared completely at a loss for how to respond to that, so Furiosa stepped closer to him and put her hand on his arm to guide him away.
The woman must have taken this as a possessive gesture, as she immediately took a step back. “Ah, sorry, m’am. Good on ya. Got a stud lookin' like that, you’d best be keeping an eye out. Rare stock, these days."
Max watched the woman as she walked away and cocked his head. It suddenly occurred to Furiosa that Max might not be over experiencing those urges like she was. He might want... that. She grunted irritably. “What, did you want to take her up on it? Don’t have a bar of soap on me but I could lend you a wrench."
He blinked and, with a quick shake of his head, turned back to her. “Just, uh, didn’t expect to see…” He gestured back at the woman and then all around them. “All this, you know? It’s… it’s good work you’ve done.”
“Yep. Bringing back prostitution is just what I had in mind as an end goal.”
Max looked like he wanted to explain himself further, but didn’t quite have the energy to string together as many words as it would take to do so. She decided to take pity on him.
“Hey, I know what you meant. People weren’t in any state to want… that, even a few months ago. I guess it means we’re doing something right, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He nodded vigorously and she couldn’t help but smile a little to herself as they walked on towards the Citadel.