Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1 Attached

Nux

Furiosa is driving and the Blood Bag tells him to get some sleep. Immortan's shiny wives are all curled up in the back with him. Capable even has her arms around him, her bright hair resting on his pale shoulder. He doesn't want to go to sleep. Sleep is when the fever comes. Sleep is when the bad thoughts bounce around his brain. Thoughts about if Valhalla is real and what happens to the poor War Boys that don’t get to die on a Fury Road.

Nux is awake now and he feels the fever making him sweat and feel uncomfortable in the heat of the cabin. But those bad thoughts are bouncing around his brain again and he has the urge to hide until the sun comes up or when Furiosia and the Blood Bag need him to do something else.

"I'm going to keep watch up top." He whispers to Furiosa and detangles himself from Capable's warm embrace. The chill night wind feels good against his feverish skin and he revels in it for a long moment before trekking all the way down to the back lookout. He settles in and stares at the blackness of the wasteland, wrapping his arms around himself to hold off the shakes and shivers.

Will he still get to go to Valhalla even now that he’s turned on Immortan?  What if he is doomed to continue living until his body finally runs out of blood? A failure’s death. A coward’s death. Nux does not want to be a coward. The promise of Valhalla isn’t quite as sure as it used to be. Especially with Immortan knowing how useless he is. Useless for capturing treasures and a rogue war rig. He tried so hard and he still failed. Twice.

A sudden weight on his shoulders causes him to turn to look into Capable’s bright eyes. “You look cold.”

“I’m not.” He watched her settle in beside him. She adjusted her shawl around both of them, tangling her arms around him again. He feels a different kind of hot when she touches him.

“You’re burning up.” He looks away as she runs a rag over his forehead.

“Night fever.” Blackness surrounds them like they are the only two people in the world. She didn’t bring a light, so all there is to see by are the meager lights from the sky. It makes his skin blue and her hair black.

She snuggles against him and he feels like he’s driving into the storms again, high on Blood Bag’s adrenaline and the smell of nitro and gasoline. He can almost taste the metallic tang of the paint still left on his teeth. Chrome he didn’t deserve. Twice.

Her touch is as firey as her hair. “You should sleep. It’ll make you feel better.” Her fingers ghost over Larry and Barry before her hands settle against his side. “You don’t know what we might come up against in the morning.”

“I slept before I left The Citadel.” He hesitantly wraps his arm around her; she’s as soft as her hair is. She is chrome, red and shiny in the sunset. He feels like he’s being bad when he touches her.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks and her curls tickle his chest.

“Chrome.”

She smiles up at him. “Chrome? Why?”

“Chrome is the most beautiful thing. Shines up so nice. Real chrome is precious.” He nods, not so sure how to put into words all those funny feelings turning around in his stomach. He wonders if he needs to throw up. Capable probably never throws up.

“It is pretty. But I like green things better.” She curls her legs up underneath her, tucking her toes under the shared blanket.

“Green.” He rolls that thought around in his mouth, trying to taste green over the wonders of chrome. “Never been close to green things.”

“You will be. We’ll be in the Green Place soon. And you don’t have to be a war boy anymore. You can just… be a boy.” Her words are quiet. Secrets he should not hear. Thoughts he’s never through of. Thoughts not allowed by the Cult of the V8.

“If I’m not a war boy, then what am I?” He closes his eyes and leans his head against hers. Her hair is so soft. He could get used to this. Sitting with a real live girl in his arms. He doesn’t have words for the terror he feels. What would he even do in a place without chrome? Surely they at least need a Black Thumb, or a driver or… someone to order around? They will need a war boy. Of course they will need a war boy. That thought made him feel better and calmed the empty feeling in his stomach enough to let himself really fall into unconsciousness.

Soon enough the sky is pink and orange with sunrise, and he finds his head pillowed in Capable’s lap. He has never wanted to go back to sleep more in his entire life. “Do you feel better now?”

He reaches a pale hand up to run a finger along her bare knee. Even her skin is shiny.

She giggles and pulls him up to sit beside her; he closes his eyes as the world spins. The war rig hits a ditch and he lurches forward to heave over the side. “Nux?” Her fingers are on his back again, tracing the old scars there.

“I’m good. I just don’t usually sleep that long is all.” He spits to get the taste of rotten mother’s milk out of his mouth.  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Her eyes make his stomach feel funny again, though he knows he’s out of vomit.

She hides her face in her hair, but they both turn to see Blood Bag crouched down next to the back cab. “You both… enough fooling around. Back up front.”

Capable slipped out first, wrapping her shawl around her as she moved back up to the front cab. Nux moved to follow, but was blocked by the Blood Bag.

“She’s… attached… to you.”

“Attached? Naw she just… was making sure I was good.” A little bubble of hope formed in his chest. He wasn’t just fooling himself with an impossible thing.

“Hm. You sure about that?” Blood Bag reached out and jabbed a finger at Barry.

“I live. I die. I live again. All things shiny and chrome are for the next life.”

Blood Bag stares at him and he stares back. The feral man bobs his head in a quick nod and makes his way back to the cab, leaving Nux alone again with his hope bubble. 

Capable

She wakes when Nux pulls himself out from underneath her. She misses his presence between her and the open door, blocking her from the dangers that might lurk outside the war rig. She moves over, feeling the warm spot he vacated just a minute earlier. It isn’t the same as leaning on him, but it is close. It still smells like him, oil, gasoline and the ashy powder the war boys paint themselves with.

“You’re not supposed to get attached to the war boys,” The Dag mutters.

“He’s so innocent. Barely a boy at all. Still a pup,” Capable replies, sinking further into Nux’s space. She puts her foot on Furiosa’s seat like he did, but it does not feel quite as safe.  

The Toast stirs from Cheedo’s other side. “He’s very sick. You can’t keep him. It would be cruel.”

“How is it cruel? He deserves better than to kill himself for a smeg that doesn’t care.” She crosses her arms and pouts. She isn’t sure how she got so attached to the boy. He just looked so sad when he was hiding and afraid. She wants to hug him forever until he feels better. Never has she wanted to do such a thing since her daughter was born and taken from her.

“Everyone deserves better, but we can’t give any betters. Not until we reach the Green Place.” The Dag pushes her blonde hair out of her face.

“War boys don’t think like we do. They can’t.” Toast pushes Cheedo onto The Dag’s shoulder and settles against the door. “You’ll just break him and he’ll die anyway.”

“Still need him. Hm. Useful.” The Fool mutters, his voice is hard to hear over the engines and the noise of the wind, but the words are heard.

“I’m going to check on him.” She wraps her shawl tightly around her shoulders and makes the climb to the top of the rig. She loves the wind in her hair, that feeling of freedom she’s craved since she was kidnapped from her family all those years ago.

The stars are just barely bright enough to see by. But she knows the top of the rig now and she can see Nux huddling in the seat, his shivering causing his shoulders to shake. She slips into the seat next to him and wrapped the long shawl around them both. “You look cold.”

“I’m not.” He tries to deny it and hold still, but she can see his pale lips press together with the effort. Stubborn males. She wraps her arms around his bare chest and frowns at the feel of his skin. He’s burning with fever. She picks up a discarded rag and mops the sweat off his forehead in what she hopes is a gentle gesture.

“Night Fever.” He replies, his bright blue eyes nearly shining in the night. He mentioned this before. A normal person would be in a sickbed, but this war boy is always ready. She doesn’t remember him sleeping or eating with them. Though she’s sure he’s taken some milk when the cups were passed around.

“You should sleep. It’ll make you feel better.” She presses against him, hoping to share her body heat. Hoping the fever breaks before it affects his brain. Her fingers touch the side of his neck, the rubbery lumps he’s named. “You don’t know what we might come up against in the morning.” She drops her voice to try to be more enticing. She doesn’t want him to run himself to death. And the toll this trip has taken already seems too high.

“I slept before I left The Citadel.” Silly. Stubborn. Males. She sighed against his chest, pressing an ear against the block pattern on his skin, listening to the beating of his heart. His heart sounds like a war drum: fast and erratic.

“What are you thinking about?” What was keeping Nux’s eyes open, even though he looks out of gas.

“Chrome.” Silly. Silly. Male. But she can’t blame him. War Boys don’t get to have wives. Very few live long enough to reproduce. Even if they did, the children would hardly be healthy.

She bad thought and smiles up at him, trying not to laugh at the thoughts of Chrome. Of course the boy is thinking of chrome. Perhaps he would pay more attention to her if she was made of chrome. “Chrome? Why?”

“Chrome is the most beautiful thing. Shines up so nice. Real chrome is precious.” He smiles and nods, his mind on better things than the hear and now.

“It is pretty. But I like green things better.” She hasn’t stopped thinking about The Green Place since they decided to escape the vault. She can imagine laying in a patch of springy grass with Nux underneath her. She wonders if he’s painted white everywhere. She hasn’t had those sorts of thoughts since before she was stolen from her clan and had caught the attentions of the boys. She can’t remember their names now.  

“Green.” She can almost smell his brain melting over the color green. “Never been close to green things.” War boys never get to go high enough for the greenery; Nux was raised in the caves and caverns, crawling in and out of cars and engines.

“You will be. We’ll be in the Green Place soon. And you don’t have to be a war boy anymore. You can just… be a boy.” She whispers against his chest, fingers brushing against the intricate pattern carved into his chest. She admires his devotion, but not his god. Maybe the Green Place is far enough away from whatever it was that made boys sick enough to start worshiping a cruel and ruthless master.

She felt his whole body tense and his breath catch in a sort of choking noise. “If I’m not a war boy, then what am I?” She realizes her mistake and holds him tightly, trying to will some comfort into his shaking body. She pressed her lips to his shoulder and whispers soothing things to him. She shifts so that she can hold him in her arms, his head resting against her breast. He falls into a restless sleep, muttering nonsense. She catches the words “shiny” and “red” and hopes he was dreaming of her.

It is a silly fantasy. She loves his innocence and enthusiasm. His humor has kept her from thinking too much. His whispered stories about his friends distracted her and the other girls from their situation. The least she can do is to make him comfortable. She feels his head again; still hot. She shifts the shawl off her shoulders and gently lays him so his head rests in her lap. She covers him with the shawl and keeps her eyes on the wasteland behind them. One of them really should keep watch.

She can feel him stirring and runs her fingers over his head. “Do you feel better now?” When she feels his hand on her knee, she looks down and smiles, letting him explore a little if he wants. His hands are rough, working hands. Immortan’s hands were fat and soft. She doesn’t want to think about him. She giggles and helps Nux up before she does something she might regret later.

She isn’t sure what happens next until he’s leaning against the side of the cab, heaving and retching. She rubs his back until he finishes and hands him the rag. “Nux?”

“I’m good. I just don’t usually sleep that long is all.” He spits again. She helps him sit down again and wraps her arm around his shoulder.  She isn’t too sure what to do now. “Why are you looking at me like that?” She tries not to think too much.

She hides her face in her hair, but they both turn to see the Fool crouched down next to the back cab. “You both… enough fooling around. Back up front.”

She slips out of the cab, wraps her shawl around her shoulders and ignores the sting in her eyes. She takes the seat she vacated hours ago, moving The Dag over with a gentle nudge.

“Gone a long time, hmm?” Dag threads her arm through Capable’s and shares an odd smile.

“Oh no. It wasn’t like that!” She glances back behind her and lowers her voice. “We talked a little. Then he fell asleep. That’s it.”

“Shame. You had plenty of time.”

She did have plenty of time. But did Nux? When he slips back into the cab, she leans against his shoulder again. He wraps his arm around her and holds her close. She closes her eyes now, tired from her turn at watch. She dreams of chrome reflecting off green grass.

Chapter Text

2 A Strange Creature

Capable

She jumps when she hears the soft sobs and turns to see the creature huddled underneath the seat. A War Boy! Until today, she’s never been this close to one. She looks a little closer at the boy’s face. It’s the young one from earlier, the one that was chained to the Fool and got away. She listens to him cry, tries to stop him from hurting himself. She listens to his story and she’s surprised that he’s so chatty. The War Boys she’s encountered weren’t very talkative. The old ones that surround Immortan Joe were always stoic and imposing, silent and frightening. This boy, however, won’t stop chattering about, reminding her of The Dag when she gets something on her mind.

She tries to process the boy’s rambles and helps him out from underneath the seat. He’s promised to behave and now he sits next to her in the cab, fidgeting and rocking back and forth. They’ve had little trouble since she came back here to keep watch, so his company was welcome, even if he is a little annoying and strange. He smells weird, like grease and gasoline and something a little musty underneath. “Stop… stop. Sit still.” She puts her hand on his shoulder to quiet his movements. At least he’s stopped crying. Now though, he’s looking at her with those impossible blue eyes like a stray dog she just fed.

“Sorry.” He mumbles and wraps his arms around himself, curling in on himself until his body is folded in half. She watches him from the other side of the cab, wary of him. She will scream if he touches her. Though he’s made no move to. It’s like he hasn’t realized who or what she is yet.

His bare foot rubs against the cracked toe of his boot, the chain attached to his wrist rattling slightly as he did so. “Why are you chained?”

“Oh I’m not chained. Blood Bag was chained to me.” He sits up, all that previous stillness vanishes in that odd nervous energy as he thrust his right arm towards her, bringing the chain and strange tube along with it. She can see the cuff around his wrist and the needle stuck in his skin. The skin around the needle crusted with dried blood. “See?”

She takes his hand and brings it closer, looking at the odd contraption and touches the needle with her finger. “Does it hurt?”

His fingers twitch a little at the jostling of the needle, but he does not seem to feel it otherwise. “Naw. Just a needle. Used to it.” He nods and seems content to let her hold his arm out as long as she wants.

“What’s it for?” She saw him when he was chained to The Fool, but couldn’t imagine why such a thing would be necessary.

“Blood.” He nods, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. His gaze flits around the cab as if he were tracking a desert fly.

“Why would you need blood?” She lets go of his arm and he finally takes it back, resting his hands in his lap in his second (or third) attempt to sit still.

“I usually run half-empty on my own. Filled up with Blood Bag an I’m golden for a few days. Then I’ll peter out and need some more.” He seems to run out of patience again and he stands up, leaning out the back of the cab, his chain rattling against the floor again. “Got a good lead. Should be quiet for a while.” He paces back and forth until his bare foot catches on the chain and he tumbles to his knees. Suddenly the steam seems to have gone out on him and he stretches out as flat as he can on the hot metal floor of the cab.

“You are very strange. Are all War Boys like you?” She reaches a foot out and pokes his side with her toe. His skin is rough with whatever it was that’s covering him. “Are you naturally white or do you paint yourself?” She remembers Immortan painting himself with a wretched concoction and being sprinkled with some sort of gritty powder.

He twitches his head to look at her, but squirms away from her probing toe. “No. Maybe? Are all Breeders like you?” He scoots to the other side of the cab, out of her reach.

“I’m not a breeder!” She picks up a discarded scrap of metal and throws it at him. “I’m not a thing!”

He seems to roll that around his head. “I’m not a thing either. So stop jabbing at me.”

She frowns and kicks at him with her foot. He brought his hands up and grabbed her by the ankle, holding her foot in his strong grip. She knows he could easily break it, but he just brings her foot closer to his face and runs a calloused finger along the arch. “Soft.”

She isn’t sure what to do. He won’t let go and keeps running her fingers along her foot. “Please let go.”

He stops and releases her, his face taking on that wide-eyed sort of innocent expression as he tucks his arms above his head.

“You never answered my question.” She curls her feet underneath her and tightens her shawl around her shoulders.

“Oh.” He raised an arm up to stare at it, like he’s never thought about his skin before. “It protects skin from burns. It’s like a… a slurry. Bathe in it. Can be a powder too.”

The answer makes her think and wonders if she scrubbed the boy down to his bare skin if he’d be pink. “Do you have a name?”

“Nux.” He looks over at her again, stretching out as much as he can in the cab.

“I’m Capable.”

“Capable of what?” His eyes are impossibly wide and blue as he stares up at her.

“Of anything I guess.” She shrugs and continue to watch this strange creature in front of her.

Nux

Mediocre. He is just a screw-up. Botching up everything he touches. He couldn’t even die properly. His god was watching and what does he do? He trips and looses the special gun that he was given to complete his only task. He didn’t know what to do now. If he kills himself now, he won’t go to Valhalla. He is without purpose and useless and he shoved himself in the small space under the bench so that he can slowly starve to death or let the fever kill him.

He spills his entire history to her in seemingly one long breath and he’s out of his hidey hole and sitting next to her. Next. To. Her. A breeder of the god himself. A woman with hair the color of… of… it is a color he’s never quite seen before. He wants to reach out and touch it, but he won’t. Can’t. There is an order to these things. She is so shiny. So chrome. A lovely creature sitting so close to him. If he touches her, she might break and he would have destroyed the only bright spot on his otherwise terrible existence. He cannot return to the Citadel unless he proves himself. And he won’t be able to harm the breeder. Nor can he bring himself to try to capture her.

“Stop… stop. Sit still.” He nearly flinches at her touch, her hand delicate like tiny mechanical parts held together with the finest of springs. She’s touched him! She could end him if she wants to. Maybe she will make it quick. But she lets him go and the moment has passed. She is not a kind creature then. She will make him live until she sees fit then

“Sorry.” He tries to quiet himself, his mind, his nerves. His body is still screaming at him. His adrenaline rush is long gone and he’s teetering on the edge of a despair he hasn’t felt since he was told he had to wait another year to join the War Boys. He folds himself up to be small again because that’s what he is. Small. Insignificant. Mediocre. His bare foot is itchy and he laments the loss of his boot. It took so long to get a matched set.

“Why are you chained?” He looked down at his wrist, the cuff and needle. He’d hardly notices it now. It is just a reality of his existence; he needs blood bags to live. Just like people need food. He needs blood too. And he’s hardly the only one. But a breeder wouldn’t know that.

“Oh I’m not chained. Blood Bag was chained to me.” He stretches his back out again, feeling the pressure there. The familiar ache has returned and he’s doing his best to ignore it. He puts his arm out so she can see that he was the one in control of Blood Bag. That is, until the breeders freed him. But it’s hardly their fault. They don’t know how these things work. If they did, they wouldn’t have done it. “See?”

He gets an odd little sensation up his arm when she takes his hand and prods at his needle. “Does it hurt?”

He is right. She doesn’t know. Breeders don’t need to know about living. They don’t know about lumps and blood and fevers. They are above those sorts of ailments. “Naw. Just a needle. Used to it.” He lets her look as long as she wants. Because she seems like she is interested. Or she is just being polite to him before she throws him under the wheels. Either way, he will take it.

“What’s it for?” She’s looking at him again, the impossible color of her hair curling around her face. He smiles to himself quickly.

“Blood.” He nods. She should understand that. Mothers give milk to babies. She should get this. It is just the way of things.

“Why would you need blood?” She lets go and he leans back against the side of the cab, trying to find words that she would understand. He can’t imagine that she doesn’t actually know. What else doesn’t she know? Does she know how an engine works? Not knowing such basic things makes his brain hurt. Surely she’s just pulling his leg. Testing him.

“I usually run half-empty on my own. Filled up with Blood Bag an I’m golden for a few days. Then I’ll peter out and need some more.” The idle chatter is bothering him. He hasn’t sat this still since Larry and Barry made it difficult to breathe. He feels too closed in and hot. The desert wind helps a little. “God a good lead. Should be quiet for a while.” He hasn’t had this much free time since his last blood bag. This time he’s not even attached to anyone. When he falls, he curses his clumsiness with chains lately and stretches out flat on the floor. His back still hurts but the thrum of the war rig is comforting.

“You are very strange. Are all War Boys like you?” He tries to control his breathing and relax. He doesn’t want to use up all his blood. He will have to make this batch last as long as he can. “Are you naturally white or do you paint yourself?”

He felt her poking and scooted away from her attentions. What did she want from him now? “No. Maybe? Are all Breeders like you?” On the other side of the cab he’s safe from being poked. Not that it hurt, but he wasn’t going to let her probe for the best place to stick a knife. If she didn’t already know that, then his death would be as slow and clumsy as he was. He didn’t want that.

“I’m not a breeder!” He narrowly dodges the sharp scrap of metal aimed at his head. “I’m not a thing!”

Of course she isn’t a thing. She’s a breeder. He’s a war boy. Some things just are. “I’m not a thing either. So stop jabbing at me.” No wonder Immortan kept his breeders up high and locked up. This one is infuriating!

She kicks at him again and he is tired of waiting for the blow, so he grabs her ankle, hoping to provoke her into finishing him at last. But she does nothing. She sits there with wide eyes and a shocked expression. He runs his hand along her foot. “Soft.” She is not used to being outside.

He waits. And waits. Her foot is used to delicate carpets and clean floors. She is his opposite, soft where he is hard. “Please let go.” Her voice is a quiet tremble. A whisper quiet rush of air.

He lets her go and shifts again, trying to ease his back. Usually there would be something for him to do after a ride. Repairs and revelry. Then the Organic Mechanics would check him over and he’d be sent off to sleep. But he has a handful of time now and is wasting it away. Time he won’t get back later. He cannot squirrel it away like jerky rations and sugar-sweets to trade later.

“You never answered my question.” What was her question? She is a question. What is she still doing here? Why is she still talking to him?

“Oh.” She asked about his skin. Of course she doesn’t know. Her skin is soft and fresh and pink. Undamaged. “It protects skin from burns. It’s like a… a slurry. Bathe in it. Can be a powder too.” What did she bathe in then? Mother’s milk? Water? Something precious and delicate that didn’t cause scratches and sores and make everything feel raw and gritty.

“Do you have a name?” Did she think he was an unnamed pup? He’s survived far too long to not be named.

“Nux.” He looks over at her again, stretching out as much as he can in the cab. She stays in her spot on the seat.

“I’m Capable.”

“Capable of what?” Capable… Capable… her name is as alien as her hair. It tastes interesting on his tongue.

“Of anything I guess.” She shrugs and he laughs. She is. She really is. And he is glad to be stuck with such a strange creature. Lovely day indeed.

Chapter Text

Capable

Back at the Citadel things are still chaotic. No one knows quite what to do so The Toast takes charge and starts organizing people into groups, giving them tasks to do. Furiosa is still recovering, but she’s cleaned herself up and now sits on Immortan’s throne to keep a sense of fear in the unrulier underlings. Corpus has stayed on for his own protection and is acting as advisor. It would be fine if he wasn’t such an insufferable smeg.

Capable finds herself down in the catacombs, a place she’s never been, walking on the catwalks above the arena where the pups were trained. She watches a small pup in the back struggle with a nitrous oxide tank bigger than he is. Her eyes itch and sting; she sees a sickly boy strapped to a blood bag and she runs out of the caves as fast as she can. Once she gets to the Vault, she furiously wipes at her eyes.

“Picking out a new boy, hmm?” The Dag singsongs and Capable wants to smash her face into the stone wall. But she doesn’t. She won’t. The others have not stopped teasing her since they returned. They think she is being silly, needlessly grieving a death that was most honorable and justified. It is what he wanted, they say. But how could they know?

“I don’t want a new boy.” She angrily sits down on one of the couches. She hates it here. She sees Nux out of the corner of her eye, pointing at her like she’s supposed to do something. What was she supposed to do? What did Nux want in his last moments?

“Get across. Once you’re safe I’ll jam the throttle and follow you.” He’s haunting her like a ghost from the Old World. Nagging at her because she couldn’t understand his last words and gesture.

“They aren’t quite the same, are they? Too busy trying to kill themselves.” The Dag drops onto the couch next to her and drapes herself against Capable’s side. “I’m sorry you’re sad.”

“What are we supposed to do now? Just sit here and… and what?” Capable runs her fingers through her bright hair. She wants to take a knife and chop it all off. She wants a change; a big drastic change to make things feel not so awful and stagnant. “Escaping was supposed to make things different, but we are back where we started!”

“We’re in the same place, but things are different. They will be different.” Dag gently grabs pieces of red hair and starts braiding them back and away from Capable’s face.

“Immortan doesn’t own us anymore but… what do we do? I don’t even… I don’t know. What does Furiosa expect from us?” She lets out a frustrated sigh and lets Dag have complete control of her head.

“I don’t expect anything. What do you want to do?” Furiosa stands in the doorway, clean and dressed in a pair of overalls.

“I don’t know! I was just a child when I was taken and… there was only here.” She throws her hands up to gesture to the entire room. She tries not to look at the place where Immortan’s bed was. They burned it when they returned. None of them could stand looking at it.

“You can do anything you want now but all you’re doing is complaining.” The driver turned leader sits down on the table nearest them. She looks tired, but hopeful. Toast has been acting as Furiosa’s assistant, dispensing information and gossip, making sure there are no surprises for their new leader is not blindsided. Cheedo has been helping the mothers and trying to find a good way for them to be useful but not abused. The Dag has been in charge of the seeds from the Many Mothers and oversees the crops, experimenting with them to yield more. It is not an easy transition to make for any of them.

“I’m not,” Capable weakly protests. The Dag pulls her hair. “Ow! Fine. I am.”

“If you want something to do, I need someone to take charge of the War Boys and Repair Boys. Make sure they know how things work now. The War Boy’s leader is called Crax and the Repair Boy’s leader is Socket.” She frowns. Of course she is the one elected to act as go-between for the Boys. She was closest to Nux and he had been both so it does make sense on some level, but Nux was so much more than one of the crazed painted Boys that worshiped a cruel master. She does not believe that there are any others like him. There can’t be. He was unique and special in the world and now he is gone.

Furiosa is right though, so she borrows some overalls and a longsleeved shirt and boots and once again treks down to the catacombs to look for the Head Boys. She hopes with the clothes she seems less like some old world fae goddess and more like an Imperator or other low-level commander. Respectable and strong. She does not feel strong. She has never ventured this far down and the stairs and ladders seem endless.

She is lost. Physically this time. And she can’t remember which way is what anymore. So she pulls aside the nearest painted figure by the arm. Nux touched Furiosa and Max, pulled them around. He had been careful of her though, but she is stronger than she expected. “Where can I find Crax?” She draws herself up to her fullest height and stares this Boy right in the eyes. He is taller than her by a head but he shrinks back at her tone. She made herself his boss already.

He nods and turns, leading her down several dark tunnels. She watches his scarred back, the way he moves. He is scrawny, the way Nux was, but his spine is curved into an S-shape and he walks with a heavy limp. “What’s your name?”

He slows his pace, but does not stop. “Bin.”

“I’m Capable.”

He does stop this time and turns to look down at her. “Capable of what?”

She forced a mad grin at the familiar question. “Anything. Now I need to see Crax and Socket. On Furiosa’s orders.”

He picks up the pace, turning away from her as they silently make their passage. She has to be strong here. She cannot collapse into a grieving little creature now. The Boys respect a pecking order and she needs to be the top bird here.

Crax is not what she expects; he seems to be barely older than she is. Though it does make sense. He was the most senior of the Boys left behind. The War Boys that chased after the war rig did not come back. Crax has a lump on his neck and a wicked looking scar along his chest. He is even taller than Bin, with impossibly long arms and legs. “Who’re you?”

“Capable. I am your new boss on orders of Furiosa. What is your status?” She tries her best to sound in control and impatient at the same time, looking up at the pale giant.

“We’ve lost two-thirds of our forces and most of our best cars. We’re trying to train up the young pups as fast as we can. There will be retaliation from the Bikers. Immortan’s truce with Gastown and the Bullet Farm might not hold now that he’s gone.” Crux seems uncertain, unsure about his feelings on his former god.

“Train as many as you can. I will speak to Socket about getting more cars. Would your boys be able to go with some salvage crews?” The best resource for new cars is the wreckage of the terrible chase.

Crux grins and nods. “Yes, yes, we can do that. Good training missions. Keep us sharp. Tell me how many crews and I will get you Boys.”

She smiles at him. Kindness had worked on Nux, as did giving him a purpose when everything seemed hopeless. Crux babbles about how he will be ready. She listens and nods.

“Is there anything that you need from Furiosa?” She is met by a blank stare. “Furiosa wants a strong warrior class to defend us from our enemies.”

He seems to think about it, pacing back and forth with a nervous sort of energy. “Furiosa will let us die for her, yes?”

Capable nods. “Yes. Though she would prefer you all to live.”

Crux looks down at her as if she just asked him what guzzoline is. She smiles and puts a hand on his bare shoulder. “At least until the numbers are up, right?”

“Oh. Yes.” He nods, understanding. “Yes. We will need a strong force.”

One step at a time, she supposes. Maybe the younger ones can be trained to be less suicidal. She makes Crax take her to the main workshop. She can’t believe a space like this exists in the Citadel. The area is massive, full of activity of all kinds. Repair Boys scurry and scuttle about trying to piece together anything useable to shore up the numbers in case of an attack.

She finds Socket overseeing several young Boys rebuilding a massive engine. He is the oldest Boy she’s ever seen, his shoulders hunched over and his hands gnarled by time. He is called Socket because his left eye is just that. An empty, dark hole. He notices her quickly and waves her over. “What’s a Shiny like you doing all the way down here?”

“I’m not Shiny. My name is Capable and on Furiosa’s orders, you report to me.” She lays down the law like she did with Crux, but Socket isn’t so easily fooled.

“I see… I see. She finally found someone who wants to deal with us.” He laughs harshly and coughs, spitting on the ground as he does. “Didn’t think she’d send one of The Wives though.”

“I am not a wife!” Capable stamped her foot and got up in Socket’s face. “I am Capable. Capable of Anything. You will respect me or I will have you replaced.”

Socket laughed and wheezed and then shuffled to a table, gasping the whole way. He turns a valve and takes a hit off of an ancient oxygen mask. It reminds her of Immortan. She waits for him to finish. One of the young black thumbs jumps down beside her. His eyes are blue and his expression is full of wonder and curiosity. He looks so much like Nux, she imagines this is what he looked like before he became a War Boy.

She stares at the pup so intently, she is almost hit by the wrench socket threw. The pup scurries off, probably to tell tales of the Shiny that came by. She turns back to the old Boy. “Curious pups make good mechanics but they’re a distractible lot when their fingers aren’t occupied. Now, what is it Furiosia needs from me?”

“We need to go salvage Biker’s Pass. How many crews can you put together in a hurry?” She can see the gears working inside Socket’s brain. He seems excited now, chattering on about the possibility of rebuilding the fleet anew. He hopes he will get to rebuild the Doof Wagon despite the fact that Coma is dead.

“I can start with my three best teams to go out before dawn. Probably can scramble two more later in the day, depending on what they come back with.”

“Good. I want to be on the first salvage crew out there. I will be supervising this effort.” Socket nods and doesn’t say one word or other about it and she leaves, satisfied with her plan. She will go out to the wreckage herself and see. She will see what it took for freedom, even if most of the Citadel’s citizens didn’t feel its touch yet.

The Organic Mechanic is on her way back up. He looks her up and down with an appraising smirk. “What brings you all the way down to see me?”

“Do you keep records of the Boys?” She’s sure there must be some inventory here. She’s seen the cabinets dedicated to tally sheets of working vehicles and ammunition. Surely there must be some record of the most plentiful resource in Immortan’s army.

“Yeah, yeah why? Furiosa needs an inventory? I told them we’d need a new inventory.” The man rubs his hands off on his filthy overalls and goes over to a rusted cabinet. “Too many lost on that foolish chase. Entire divisions of the fleet gone. Only the young and the sick left.”

“Do you keep records on the sickness as well?” She steps up behind him, peering in the cabinet and the bundles of papers.

“Yes. Have to. Need to know who’s too sick. Who needs special attention. Where to assign out the blood bags.”

She asks for Nux’s file and is surprised it is near the top. “I remember this one. Gets a blood bag every so often. Named his lumps. Why you want this file?”

Ignoring the question, she looks over the notes and despairs. She has no idea what it all means. His blood type is here, but the rest doesn’t make sense. Words that seem impossibly big tangle in her brain. “How sick was he?”

“Closer to the end than the beginning. Maybe could have gotten another good year out of him. Year and a half if he had the will for it. Though who knows when we can get more blood bags in? Without a good supply we shouldn’t waste them on the ones that won’t recover.”

Won’t recover? A year? She checks Nux’s age and sure enough, he was just turned seventeen years. “Are they all this sick?”

The man shifts, thinking about the question. It’s like he’s never been asked before. “Most of them, yeah. Ones that don’t start sick end up sick.”

“Why?” It’s been burning in the back of her brain since Nux first mentioned Larry and Barry.

“Living conditions mostly, I suppose. Lack of food, fresh water, sanitary waste disposal. The clay in the war paint is mildly toxic. Fumes and gas inhalation. The damp gets others. You need a list for Furiosa? I can get you a list. Immortan didn’t care much for the whys.” The man shrugs and puts a pencil to paper to make her a list. And she tucks it in with Nux’s file and leaves.

She knows she should sleep now, but she reads all the difficult words that the Organic Mechanic wrote. She imagines they mean all sorts of things, all of which tell that no matter what, she would have felt this pain no matter what that stupid, silly, wonderful boy did. He would always be her ghost, haunting her with that bright smile and impossibly blue eyes.

Chapter Text

Nux

“Are you a black thumb?” Blood Bag asks as if he doesn’t know. Silly blood bag. Of course he is a black thumb! He is the best black thumb! He nods enthusiastically and detangles himself from Capable’s arms. He smiles at her. She must know how exciting this is! He gets to fix the war rig!

He had always hoped that he’d get the chance to tinker with the lovely machine before his road to Valhalla. It was almost worth the failures now. Almost. He is still worried but that’s not what he needs right now. He needs the tools in his hands. He smiles once more and slips down into the hatch just big enough for him to squeeze through. This rig was designed for maintenance under fire, as many of them are, so he wasn’t worried.

The repair hatch in there is almost too small and he forgets that he’s grown since he’s fit himself through the tight spaces of the bigger war machines in Immortan’s fleet. But it was comfortable and it felt safe down there, despite the battle raging around the rig. He sings a work song and looks over the dying engine, making a few adjustments here and there to ensure it wouldn’t die while he was in here.

Once he is sure the first engine would hold up, he moves to the still beauty of the second. “Oh what a lovely day!” he cries and works the engine over, patching it for the ride home. He knows he doesn’t need to make it run long-term but his pride will not let him do a shoddy job. Furiosa trusts him with this task, and he will complete it. He lets out a yell and wipes his forehead once he finally pokes his head out of the hatch and into the cooler air of the cab.

He should have stayed in the warm cocoon of the dual engines, nestled amongst their mighty thrumming. But his task was finished and there was time for other things now. Time to go back up top to see what else needs done. 

But he knows that when he sees Furiosa’s ashen face and Capable’s wet eyes; he is going to Valhalla at last. Blood Bag and Furiosa are on the hood and he’s behind the wheel, coaxing every last bit of power out of the lovely engines. Twin beauties. Ancient machines of the Old World. Protect and carry him unto Valhalla only when the others are safe!

He keeps as close on the Gigahorse’s rear bumper as he could. He holds the rig as steady as he can while the Wives crawl out the smashed windscreen and across the hood. There’s still a hand clutching at his shoulder and he summons up the rest of his courage.

He turns to the shiny woman next to him and smiles. He’s never smiled like this before, but he finally gets to fulfill his destiny. But the fear and worry in her eyes makes his resolve waver. If only he still had some paint to steel his nerves. He nudges her with his arm to detach her from his back.

“Get across. Once you’re safe I’ll jam the throttle and follow you.” He has never lied like this before. Of course he’s lied to the Organic Mechanic about how he felt and had embellished his accomplishments to other Boys, but that was normal. Everyone did that. This feels different now. He wants her to go. He will not take her to Valhalla. Capable doesn’t belong there. She is already Shiny and Chrome. A Valkyrie with burning red hair and soft skin. He is still marvels at the way she lets him touch her, and how she touches him in return. Boys don’t touch breeders. But Capable is not a breeder. She is special and this world needs her.

Why isn’t she going yet? He nods at her, still smiling as he grips the wheel. He watches her crawl across the hood. Toast and Dag and Cheedo and Furiosa all up on the Gigahorse and the pass is approaching. He glances behind to see the rest of the fleet coming up fast.

He could jam the throttle. He could. He should. Immortan is dead. Dead. Gods don’t die! And even if they did, Immortan surely would be waiting for him in Valhalla to cast him down all rusted and wasted. He could live with Capable and help make the Citadel a Green Place. But… then what would he do? It is getting hard to breathe, like when Larry and Barry started choking him. Their inner roots tangling about his throat and squeezing until no air got through.

No! NO! His foot twitches on the pedal and is about to lock it. They would take him. They want him to come. Capable wants him to come. He can see it in her wide eyes. Her fearful eyes. She is terrified.

Terrified of what?

Rictus! Nux stomps hard on the brake, slowing the rig enough tp provide a gap between him and Capable. He can see her hanging out the back of the Gigahorse… her arm out to him. Rictus is stunned but not for long. Nux points to Capable. “Witness me!” He wants her to see. He wants HER to witness his ride to Valhalla. He can see the worry in her eyes. Why would she worry? He’s surely going to make it now. He points at her again. “Witness me!” he shouts over the engine roar and with all his strength, he cuts the wheel hard to the right.

He grips the wheel tightly and tries to brace himself as the cab flips. He can feel the twisting force behind the screeching metal. He’s thrown out of the cab upon impact and for fleeting seconds, he feels as if he is ascending to Valhalla.

But that’s not how it works. He has to die. That’s the part he’s been having trouble with. Soon his body is pulled back down into the fire and smoke. Down towards the unforgiving rocks and sand. The war fleet that wants his blood. He laughs until he chokes on the dust in the air. They want his blood!

His horrible non-sustaining blood! It’s funny, because such a worthless thing is the most valuable thing in the world in these seconds. These long seconds seem to stretch out to the horizon. Suspended in the air, with the world going so slow, he has all the time he has ever wanted. He is swimming in time and he laughs again as his body spins towards the ground. He is finally ready! He will be Shiny and Chrome at last. Free of his rusted and malfunctioning body. His half-life over, he is finally free to start living fully.

He wonders if Capable would be in his full-life? She claims that she’s no goddess, but she is. She truly is. She made him feel… wanted. Needed. She let him spend his time well. He closes his eyes and pictures her red hair as his body collides with a very solid object.

 Capable

He’s not coming.

Nux isn’t going to follow her. She knows this. She grips his shoulder tightly but his hands are firmly on the wheel. He smiles at her, but his eyes are shiny and has the strangest look on his face. The face he made when he whispered about Vahalla to her. He lied. He’s lying now. And he doesn’t even look sorry or ashamed. She wants to slap him but… she knows there’s no other way. If he doesn’t do this, they will all get caught and be killed.

And she wants to live so badly. It feels strange. She wants him to live too, but they are running out of time. She finally understands his manic need to… to be. She sucks in a breath and grips his shoulder tightly. He’s urging her to go. Her fingers linger on his scarred and painted skin. She feels like she should kiss him or tell him how brave he is. Should she have done something more? Is there anything she should do now? He nudges her with his shoulder and she knows.

Their time is up.

She can’t even manage to kiss him before she’s out the window and slowly crawling across the hot hood to get to Immortan’s awful car. Cheedo and Toast are there, waiting for her. Her sisters haul her up and she turns around, waiting for Nux to change his mind and follow. He looks conflicted. She bites her lip and throws her arm out for him. Begging him with her eyes.

Her sisters pull her back when Rictus leaps up onto the hood of the rig and reaches for them. From behind Rictus’s hulking form, she sees Nux’s determined face. He points at her and mouths something but… she has no idea what. She can’t stop screaming, but she can’t hear anything over the wind and the screech of the rig’s brakes 

The world seems to slow and she tries to read his pale lips as he points again. Rictus starts moving and Nux throws his weight to the right, causing the rig to turn and flip and hit the side of the canyon entrance.

She feels like she’s been punched in the gut. Worse. She feels like something has been torn from her. She collapses back into someone’s arms and is drug back into the cab. She watches out the window until her eyes tear up and the entire canyon is engulfed in dust and flames. All she can hear are crashing rocks and smashing metal. Did he die instantly on impact? Is he still suffering buried under tons of rock and metal? It hurts to think about.

She climbs up into the front seat to make room for those that know more medicine than she does. Nux is dead and Furiosa’s not far behind. The Fool mutters something and sticks a tube into Furiosa and the other end into his arm. Blood flows from him and into her. Just like Nux.

After a while, The Fool, Max takes a seat behind the wheel and continues to drive them back to the Citadel. While she watches the dust settle outside, someone takes Immortan’s body and wrapped it and straps him to the hood. Capable sits silently in the shotgun seat, holding a gun that was left on the seat. When the green topped spires of the Citadel are in view, she turns to the driver. “Did you plan for him to drive the rig when you told us to come back here?”

He is quiet for a moment and looks pained before he opens his mouth. “No. His choice.”

“Was it though?” She looks back at Furiosa and her sisters. “Furiosa made him drive.”

“Driving. Hm. That was his life. War Boys… don’t know much else.” Max glances at her. Then at the gun in her hands.

“He wasn’t like them!” She shouts and wants to fling herself out of the car and run back. But she knows that’s stupid. And she does want to live.

“When I met him… he was riding to die. His choice.”

But it isn’t fair. They were going to be free together! He was supposed to follow her! She feels the tears coming but refuses to let them fall. She rests her head against the side of the door. “Do you think he’s… he’s in Valhalla?”

Max looks at her again and nods quickly, but keeps his mouth shut. Nobody speaks for the rest of the ride. She’s dreading going back to the Citadel. The great unknown stretches out before her; and it is terrifying. She should have done more; if she’d taken Dag’s advice she might at least have a baby to look forward too. But she couldn’t just force herself on Nux. He’d barely been able to handle the cuddling. He may have broken if she’d pushed him too fast. He was so young underneath the paint that covered his body.

She thinks of Valhalla, imagining sunlit hallways made of blindingly shiny chrome and Nux, healthy and happy lounging in a soft bed with his arms tucked behind his head. No. He wouldn’t lounge. He would be building a car, or driving one, or even just talking. In the quiet moments he whispered stories to her, just before she fell asleep. Her nose starts running and her face is wet.

“Capable…” Cheedo starts, leaning over the back of the seat. “Don’t cry. Things will be better now. We’ll make them better.” Her skinny arms wrap around her loosely and gives her a quick hug. She doesn’t understand. Capable looks back at the other girls and they’re either focused on Furiosa or the Citadel ahead of them. She’s the only one that cares. Her grip tightens on the golden gun in her hands. The next set of tears are ones of anger. How could they not care?

A clumsy gloved hand pats her on the shoulder and she looks over at Max. His expression is pained and sympathetic. He knows loss. Maybe he doesn’t know exactly how she feels, but he’s not trying to shush her. She sniffles and manages a thankful smile. Max turns back to the road and they all brace for their return home.

Chapter Text

Capable

She barely slept at all. When Cheedo woke her up, she was already dressed, her hair in braids and head covered in an old rag. She gets a strange look from her sister, but is grateful for the conversation. She quickly stomps on her boots and straps on the holster for Immortan’s golden pistol around her waist. She smiles when she sees Bin standing just outside the Vault. The door has been wide open for four days but some steps are harder to take than others.

“Everything ready for the first salvage run, Bin?” She looks up at him and sees his eager expression. The Boys need this as much as she does, though for very different reasons. 

He nods and hobbles along beside her. “Yes, yes Capable! We are ready to go. Three crews ready with enough War Boys to fight off other scavengers. They may have had first pick, but we bring might!” He is practically buzzing with energy and chatters about their good fortune to have three flatbeds ready to go. Socket found a dirt-mover and is in the process of making it ready for the heavier operations. She is honestly amazed by what they’ve done. She will give Immortan credit on one thing, these boys are simply amazing at what they do.

She rides with Bin and a group of boys younger than she expected. She’s already learned all their names and already they’re following her around with that same enthusiasm Nux had. A little kindness goes a long way in the Outback, it seems.

“Bin, I’d like to get to the war rig if it’s at all possible. That’s the most important to me. But have some of the boys scout out the most salvageable vehicles as soon as we get there. Get those either running enough limp back to the Citadel or on flatbeds. Furiosa’s priority is to rebuild the fleet.” She knows she can’t spend all of her resources on the dead. Not when the Citadel could be attacked at any moment. Bin nods and shouts orders to the other crews and a dozen pale boys scatter with their tools and weapons.

Bin himself drives her up through the wreckage and to the pile of rocks on top of the rig. She doesn’t know what to do now. The cab is buried, only the broken end of the tanker sticks out of the wreckage. She gets out of the truck and hops down and just stares.

“Rig is buried too deep without the dirt-mover. Can’t get to it yet. Crashed up real good.” He looks over at her and stops chattering. He must see the grief on her face. He’s probably never seen such a look before. He shifts from one foot to the other and stretches backwards, his crooked spine popping loudly in the quiet of the desert. “Why… why do you want the rig?”

“Not the rig itself. I want the driver.” She takes a deep breath of dry air and looks up at the fidgety boy. “Nux was driving. I want to see his body.”

“Nux? War Boy?” He seems interested and confused. Surely she’s confused the lot of them with her presence.

“Yes. He saved us. I want to make sure he got to Valhalla.” She has to force her smile and hopes that is enough for him to continue with her silly orders. There are more important things to do out here, but she can’t help herself. Besides, Furiosa didn’t care so long as the Boys were useful, productive and stopped killing each other.

“Nux did this?” Bin looks bewildered at all the damage. He laughs and slaps his knee. “Bad Luck Nux! Causes more destruction than the Hurricane, he does. Did.” He nods and leads her up the slope of rocks to climb up on top of the rig.

“You knew him?” She has to push herself to climb as fast as the War Boy, but he stops and helps her up on top of the manufactured hill.

“Ya, we ran salvage together. Before he became a driver.” He nods and kicks at some of the stones at his feet. “Clumsy. Always causing trouble. Usually worked out for him.” He grunts and kneels down on the pile of stone and pushes a larger rock down the hill.

“Do you think he’s still in the cab down there?” 

Bin paces and limps around the length of the pile, surveying the wreckage from all angles. “Love figuring out crashes. So much fun.” He mutters to himself as he drags his bad leg in the sand. He then grabs her by the shoulders and points her back towards most of the wreckage. She flinches but he doesn’t seem to notice. She has to tell herself that Bin isn’t going to hurt her. He is just excited to answer her question. He points over her shoulder. “Rig came this way straight. Then turned hard enough to flip and ran into the wall there.” He’s still moving her by the shoulders, making sure she can see what he sees. “You were in the cab? Was it closed?” He looks at her straight in the eyes, almost bouncing up and down as he waits for her answer.

“No. Doors were ripped off. The windscreen was shot out. Part of the back was blown out.” She tries to recall every detail she can.

“Good, good.” He nods and finally lets her go. “Probably thrown from the cab. Could be anywhere over this way.” He gestures over to the shallower end of the rubble. “Probably not in the cab. Can’t hold onto the wheel in an impact like that. If the cab was open, out he went!” Bin searches her face for approval.

“Thank you, Bin. Will you help me look for him?”

“Of course! Anything for you Capable. Idling is a terrible sin.” He hums happily and helps her down off the highest point. He gestures over some Boys with shovels and they start digging happily. She may not have understood Nux’s obsession with time but now she thinks she gets it. They fill their time with as much living as they can because they will all die sooner rather than later. If it isn’t in a raid against an enemy, it will be slow and painful from sickness that plagues them all in different ways. She’s called out of her thoughts by Bin’s shouting. 

“Capable! Capable! We found the door!” The boys unearth the twisted door, warped but mostly intact piece of metal carved with a skeletal arm. It was Furiosa’s symbol. She traced the faint lines with her fingers. It isn’t what she came for, but she feels she is close. So close. “Furiosa might want it. Pack it up with one of the salvaged cars.” 

She watches them scurry, three of the young pups carry the door above their heads happily to a waiting truck. “Let’s keep going, Bin. Lots of work to do.”

“Yes Capable!” He leans on his shovel and grins. “Lovely day boys!”

Nux

He wakes and the light around him is impossibly bright. He tries to take in a lungful of air and immediately coughs it up. Pain? There’s no pain in Valhalla. He blinks the spots away and tries to sit up, but a familiar pinch in his wrist. He stares at the red tube as if seeing it for the first time. No. No! He lets himself fall back into the dirt and lets out a choked sob. What else could he possibly do now? He’s tried everything. EVERYTHING and he’s still stuck in his old life. He thinks of the nickname his salvage crew had given him… Bad Luck Nux. Surely he had pissed off some god or other to be cursed to live when all he wants is to move on. He tries to bring his other arm up to pull out the tube, but it isn’t working. His shoulder is separated, his left arm hanging limply at his side.

“Don’t move.”

He raises his eyes up to the shadow blocking his vision and soon his Blood Bag’s face becomes clear. Did the blood bag save him out of spite? They were even! “Why?” His voice is unrecognizably hoarse and his throat aches with dryness. He can’t stop coughing until strong hands pull him up into a sitting position that makes his vision swim. There is no Nux, only pain. His insides feel like mush and his lungs feel like someone is squeezing on them every time he breathes.

“Hm. Not time yet.” Blood Bag grunts and, mindful of the tube that connects them, grabs Nux’s dangling arm and pulls. He can’t help the pained yowl that escapes his lips and the other man mumbles a quick apology before wrapping some bandages tightly about Nux’s chest. He doesn’t want his insides to leak out either. Keep them inside. His bad arm is strapped to his chest with a belt and another bandage is applied to a nasty gash in his leg.

“What… happened?” He turns his head to survey the wreckage. Not bad! Not bad at all! Though it would be much better if the bodies of his brothers weren’t surrounding them. He thinks he recognizes the scarring on a severed arm nearby but… his head throbs too much. With his good arm, he reaches up and feels the bandage there and his fingers come back bloody.

“Plan worked. They’re safe. Furiosa runs the Citadel now.” The other man leans inside the shell of a car. An Interceptor. It is rusty but with some care and attention, he’s sure it’ll be war-worthy.

“Capable?” The name slips from his lips when Blood Bag grabs him by the good arm and hauls him to his feet. He leans on the other man as he’s half-dragged over to the car, their tube dragging behind them.

“Alive. Safe.” Nux leans against the car and watches the feral poke at the engine clumsily.

“You a… black thumb?” Nux asks, his lips twisting into a teasing grin. If he’s alive he should at least try to be useful. The Blood Bag doesn’t seem to know where to start. Nux can see it. He can see it as clearly as the sun in the sky.

The other man glares at him and he chuckles.

Nux holds out the wrist with the tube in it. “Unhook me. I can fix this up shiny. Find me tools.”

“Hm. You sure you can?” 

“I can. Get me tools. I’ll shout if I need help. We’ll need new tires too.” He’s sure they’ll need more, but he’ll know more once he’s under the car. He almost blacks out when Max lowers him to the ground, but he fights to focus. He can refurbish an engine in his sleep, which is good because he catches himself drifting off. To keep himself awake, he starts talking, whether Blood Bag was around or not.

His commentary is interrupted when Blood Bag kicks him in the leg. “Quiet!” He bites back a yelp and waits for an explanation. “Scavengers. Stay under the car. Keep quiet, but work if you can.” 

He grunts and looks up at the engine and tries to quiet his breathing. He isn’t supposed to be good at hiding, but he’s had his share of it. He grits his teeth and carefully curls his legs under the car as well.

He can hear the sound of cars in the distance, a salvage crew ripping at hoods and scrap. Taking anything that might still be useful. The one that brings the best haul back was usually rewarded. Strangely, he remembers the sweets hidden in his bunk and hopes that nobody took them. He wants to share them with Capable. 

Shots were fired until someone shouts to stop. Muffled speaking and all other sounds stop. He can hear Blood Bag’s squeaky leg brace slowly approach. He breathes quietly, preparing to be pulled out from under the car. “Come out. Slowly.” Blood Bag is crouched beside the car, but his voice was quiet.

Nux makes an attempt to wiggle out from under the car but instead groans in pain. “Can’t.” He carefully unfolds his legs and his ankles are grabbed. He squeezes his eyes closed as dizziness washes over him again. He’s out in the open, laying on his back and he can tell, even then, that he’s surrounded. Blood Bag must have sold him out. Good for him. You use what you have and Nux is unable to fend for himself.

There’s a high pitched shriek and his world explodes in pain again.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry!”

His breath comes back to him slowly as gentle hands fuss over him. He focuses on the figure before him and blinks. He catches sight of red locks underneath an oil stained rag. Is she really real?

“Nux! Nux!” She’s clinging to him again, like in the rig but he’s not having fun this time. She’s squeezing his mangled insides and he wants to vomit, but his guts are empty so he just gags and chokes. He’s still here and she’s happy. Why is she happy? He was supposed to be in Valhalla. “I missed you so much.”

She missed him? What does that mean?

“Hurts.” Is all he can manage with her squeezing on him and he lets go. His eyes flick to Blood Bag. “Need a new belt and radiator. 

Blood Bag looks at Capable and gestures to the interceptor. “My car.”

She looks at the machine and nods. She calls someone else over. A War Boy. Is that Bin? Bin is so tall now! “Load this up. This is Max’s car. Nobody touches it without his say. Get him whatever he wants.” She smiles down at him. “I need someone to drive me and Nux back right now.”

Bin looks down at him and he just can’t help but shrug his uninjured shoulder. He still hasn’t made it to Valhalla. But then neither has Bin. They are getting far too old. 

He is rolled onto a flat board and carried to the back of a truck. Capable cradles his head in her lap and he closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy it. If he has to continue this life, at least she is here with him. Idly, he wonders if she’s scavenged him up out of the wasteland to put back together. There’s something in him that feels like hope under the black despair he woke to. Maybe. Maybe he will get his chance soon.

Chapter Text

Nux

He wakes with a start and blinks at the unfamiliar surroundings. Light hits his face but he is inside. He lays on a soft bed, covered in thin, white blankets. His torso is still bandaged, as well as his arm and shoulder. He flexes the fingers of his left hand. There’s some pain, but the arm isn’t dead. It still hurts to move and breathe, but it could be worse. His head still hurts and he’s confused. If he moves his eyes wrong, the dizziness returns and he has to squeeze his eyes shut again. There’s that nagging pinch in his wrist again and he looks down at the tube, following it to its source. He gasps when he sees the tube end in Cappable’s wrist, which is thrown up behind her head as she dozes on a chair beside the bed.

“Capable?” He’s so confused. What is going on? Where is he?

She stirs and yawns, opening her eyes slowly. She pulls her arm from behind her head and flexes her fingers. She smiles at him and takes his hand gently. “I’m here. You’re safe now. It’s okay.”

“Where… where are we?” He sits up and throws his legs over the side of the bed. Someone stole his pants and he will need to find a new pair. She is beside him in an instant with her arm supporting him. Her hands are warm and gentle. Just like in the rig.

“This is my room.” She touches him again. He doesn’t dislike it, but he’s still confused. “At the Citadel.” He blinks at her. “In the Vault.”

He glances out the window and sees green beneath the windows and beyond that, the wasteland beyond. “How long have I been asleep? Why are you a blood bag now? Where are my pants?”

She giggles at his questions and presses her lips to his neck, just above Barry and Larry. “Your pants were torn. Cheedo sewed them up again like new.” She stands up and slowly pulls the needle out of her arm and holds the tube up over her head to let the last of the blood drain into him. He remembers surviving. Again. And being salvaged in the wasteland. But nothing after that. “The Organic Mechanic tested me and found we’ve got the same blood type. They aren’t too many blood bags down there. I’d gladly fill you up any time.” Once the tube is clear, she gently takes his wrist and pulls out the needle slowly. “You’ve been asleep for three days.”

“Three days!?” He’s never slept so long in his entire half-life. Such wasteful behavior! He lurches to his feet and moves past Capable to leave the soft room. There are things he could be doing. He needs to get back to work.

“Where are you going?” He barely makes it to the door before his legs feel like they’re rubber and the room starts spinning.

“I… sleeping is a waste of time.” He’s not sure how better to explain it. Maybe he can’t. She’s already got a full-life.

“It isn’t a waste of time if you’re injured. Come back to the bed. Please?” Her voice sounds strained, like it did when she first asked him to help get the rig out of the mud. He is so tired. More tired than he’s ever been. He’s been left here for a reason. It can’t be to waste his time by foolishly lounging on a breeder’s bed. He looks back at the bed. Surely she doesn’t want him as a breed partner?

He lets her lead him back to the bed and he sits down. He’s covered in bandages, bruises and old war paint. It’s been too long and he’s itchy all over. He scratches at his hip and falls backwards onto the bed. It is the softest thing he’s ever sat on. And Capable is right next to him, her red hair pillowed out around her. “What am I supposed to do now?” He almost cries. What possibly could he do from this soft thing.

“Rest. Keep me company. Are you hungry? You have to be hungry. Wait here and I’ll get you something. I want to tell you what’s been going on. And I want to know what happened to you, okay?” She looks at him until he nods and he watches her leave the room.

Itchy, itchy, itchy. He scratches his head with his good hand and looks around the room. There are lots of soft things in here. Pretty things. He blinks twice at the War Boy in the corner, until he realizes that he’s looking at the biggest and shiniest mirror he’s ever seen. He steps up to it and looks close, focusing on his eyes, then inspecting the rest of him. No wonder his head hurts! The neat line of stitches run from the middle of his forehead to almost above his ear. His paint was flaking off in layers, though his skin underneath was still not showing. He gently poked at Larry and Barry, the faces he’d drawn on them before he’d gotten his previous Blood Bag were long gone. Maybe he should just find some ink and a needle and tattoo the faces on. 

He’s still looking in the mirror when Capable comes back in with a tray. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve never seen a mirror this good. I’m checking for battle scars.” That’s not exactly what he was doing but he’s sure she wouldn’t understand. He can’t tell if the bumps under his bandages are due to his injuries or his sickness.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you have some fine ones now. Come eat something. I brought some stew and water.” She sets the tray down on the table in the corner and he waits for her to back up before approaching it.

He waits for her to nod and picks up the bowl. He almost drops it. “It’s hot!” He’s never had hot food before.

“Yes, it’s stew. It’s supposed to be.”

He picks up the bowl again and brings it to his lips. The first sip is scalding but it feels so good. And the taste… it actually tastes like something! He holds the bowl in his left hand and uses his right to scoop the tasty chunks into his mouth. He uses his fingers to get out every bit of the tasty liquid before he sets the bowl down. His eyes land on the water and he looks at Capable to make sure he’s still allowed.

“Go on. Drink it all. Slowly though.”

He picks up the glass and brings it to his lips and takes a long, slow sip. It is the most wonderful thing he’s ever tasted, and that includes the stew he just ate. He looks at the glass again. It’s so clear! The glass is empty and he’s sad, but he knows that feeding his water addiction is bad. He’ll wait for his next ration and enjoy that later. Something to look forward to, yes.

He scratches at his head again and looks over at Nux for his next instructions.

“Are you okay?” She looks at him again and he can’t figure out why she keeps asking.

“Itchy.” It’s all he can think about now that his stomach feels better. He kind of feels all warm inside, though not like a fever. Is that what hot food does?

“Oh! I’m so sorry. I wanted you to be awake first. Let’s get you to a bath.” She hands him his pants and he slips them on. She leads him out to the common area of the Vault… the most holy of places. He sees the other Wives and smiles a little. He’s genuinely glad they are okay and alive. 

Capable helps him to another room and opens some curtains. There are windows in this room too, with real glass and everything. But the most interesting thing in the room is the old boiler in the corner. He runs his hands over the machinery and wants to start taking it apart. Capable slips beside him and lights the gas that will boil the water inside the tank. He is content to stand and watch the pipes heat, but Capable is fussing with his bandages. She’s unwinding them from his arm and chest and helps him sit down. “I’m very glad you aren’t dead, Nux.”

“If I can’t be in Valhalla, at least I can be with you.” He means it, but she doesn’t seem too happy. She’s hard to figure out now. Maybe it was just easier when they were running away. Battle always made more sense to him too.

A whistle on the boiler sounds and she fills the large tub with steamy water. “Go ahead.”

“Go ahead and what?” He looks at the steaming water, then back at her. He thought he was going to bathe.

“Take off your pants and get in the tub.” She points to the tub like he must have missed it in the room. 

“In the water?” She must be trying to fool him. Tempt him. 

“Yes, Nux, in the water. This is a proper bath. It’s what they’re supposed to be like.” She gives him a nudge towards the tub. She was so strange. He let his pants fall and climbed into the hot water. It was strange and wonderful at the same time. As soon as he got used to the warmth, Capable knelt down beside the tub with a rag and rubbed a bar of something on his skin and scrubbed at his back.

“What are you doing?” He turned his head to watch her.

“I’m washing your back. Getting the paint off you.” 

Off? Off? Off?! But bathing puts more back on. Layers of protection. But she was happily stripping it away. Sanding him down to his chassis. He kept quiet and let her work. The car does not tell the mechanic how to do his job. She pulled him out of the desert for a reason.

She drains the filthy water and fills the tub again three times. All he thinks of is the wasted water, but he dares not tell her. He doesn’t want to upset her. He doesn’t like the look she gets when she’s upset. It makes him feel uncomfortable.

“Are we done yet?” He finally asks when his skin is soft and pink. He feels like a snail that was pulled out of his shell. He can see multicolored bruises on his skin now. At least he’s not itchy anymore.

“Yes, you’re done.” She helps him stand and hands him a big cloth. “Dry off.”

He takes the big clean rag and dries himself off. If he does well, will she let him have a fresh coat of paint? Once he’s done, she hands him his pants and applies fresh bandages to his arm and ribs. “Do you feel any better?”

He nods drowsily. He’s tired again. He’s never been this injured before. That must be it. Injury and sickness and water baths. He leans on Capable as she takes him back to the main room in the Vault. The women stare at him and he diverts his eyes to the floor.

“You look better, Nux.” Toast smiles and pats his uninjured shoulder.

“Still pale though. I lost my bet with Cheedo. Thought he’d be darker, like Toast.” She flits away back to her garden.

“Come on, Nux. We don’t have to listen to them. Back to bed.” He has no choice. He can barely keep his eyes open now.

Cheedo is in the room when they get there. There’s a breeze blowing in. “I changed the bedding and opened the windows.” 

It does smell better in the room now. Capable lowers him into the bed and lays down next to him. He lets her fuss with the blankets and curl up against his side. “I’m sorry if you thought that was a waste of time.”

“It was… different.” He looks up at her ceiling and tries to stay awake until she is finished talking. “I’m not itchy anymore.”

“Do you feel different?” She runs her hands against his skin again. Does he?

“I feel squishy and soft.” He turns his head to look at her. All he can see is the top of her head since she’s using him as a pillow.

“Why did you do that?” She has to have a reason. 

“You were itchy. And you smelled really bad. And the paint you Boys paint yourselves with is poisonous.” She turns to look up at him. “It was making you sicker. I’d like all the Boys to stop wearing it, but I know they just can’t change all at once.”

Poison? It made them sick? More sick? He rolled that around in his mind. He’s sure that she’s wrong but… how would he know? Maybe if he lives without it and when he doesn’t get any better, she’ll see that there’s nothing wrong with the paint. Surely they couldn’t go out on raids without proper paint.

“What are you going to do with me?” He finally asks the question that’s been buzzing around his brain since he woke up.

“What do you mean?” She shifts so that she’s propped up on one elbow and looking into his eyes.

“What are you going to do with me?” He repeats the question, not knowing a better way to ask.

She seems to think. “Furiosa asked me to look after all the Boys. I’d like you to help me. I want you to be their leader.”

“I can’t lead them. I’m a failure. I betrayed Immortan Joe and he locked the gates of Valhalla to me.” He can’t believe what he’s hearing. She was there. She saw what happened. How could the other Boys look up to him?

“Immortan is dead. He is not your god anymore.” She holds him tightly. The pain is a nice distraction from his depression. “Things need to change, Nux. To make this a Green Place for everyone.”

He’s too tired to continue, he just grunts and lets his eyes fall closed. If only his feelings could be scrubbed away like layers of war paint.

Chapter Text

Capable

The days fly by while Nux recovers in her bed. She sleeps beside him, touching him. Ensuring that he is not just a figment of her imagination. He refuses to talk about being a leader. Instead he talks about working. Cars. Raids. He is not well enough yet but soon she’s going to have to figure something out. He’s practically bouncing off the walls in the room.

Now she glares at him, trying to look stern but terrified he will fly into a wild state. She has her hands full trying to keep the Boys from murdering each other now that there’s no one else to turn their violence towards. She knows he wants to be a good War Boy, but she’s afraid of what the others will do to him.  But now he’s turned his frustration towards her. She’s seen the way War Boys settle disagreements and even in his weakened state, he could hurt her if he isn’t thinking clearly. For the first time since they met, she was scared of him. Of what he might do. He’s covered his body in white clay from Dag’s garden and is intent on going back to his duties.

“You aren’t well enough yet!” She snaps at him, planting herself between him and the door to her room. She won’t lose him now, not after all they’ve been through together. He does not remember the past week when she’s almost lost him to fever. Or the night he stopped breathing. He doesn’t remember and she won’t speak of it. The memories are too painful and raw.

“Never well enough! I’m wasting away my half-life! Do you hate me so much that you’ll make me still and idle?” His words are sharp and sting at her heart. He paces back and forth like a caged animal. “Is that the leader you want? Soft and placid? Too afraid to actually do something but wait?”

“No! I don’t hate you. But you aren’t well enough for duty.” She’s afraid the other Boys will damage him. Tear him apart for his hand in killing the old god. She’s doing her best to teach the young ones better ways, but the older ones cling to their tattered beliefs. She looses more and more to the cliffs. She needs him to bridge the gap, but it won’t work if he looks too weak.

He stalks up right to her face and jabs a white finger at the lumps at his neck. “Dying already.” He’s so mad he looses words. He grabs her hand in a painful hold and forces her to touch them. They are killing him slowly. He shoves his pants down and pulls her arm so she can feel the small lump near his inner thigh. “Why am I being punished? Denied Valhalla. Denied work!” His words are angry and desperate. His blue eyes are wide and wild. The door is closed behind her, but in the silence she can hear Furiosa and the others outside. He finally lets her go and she stumbles back against the door. He clutches at his head, his arms, his pants are pooled around his ankles and tears make tracks in the fresh clay. “Let me goooo…” He wails and collapses in a pile of bones on the floor.

The door bursts open and Furiosa is there, a gun in her flesh hand. She looks from Capable to Nux on the floor. “Nux. Fix yourself up and report to the Shop. I need a car of my own and I want you to take point on it. Bring me a first draft tomorrow.”

Nux jumps up and hikes his pants up and wipes at his face. He rushes past them and is out the door before Capable can protest. She turns back to Furiosa, redirecting her anger at the new leader.

“You can’t keep him here anymore, Capabe. You’ve worked with the Boys enough to know they can’t keep still.” Furiosa’s stern, but quiet words make the anger fizzle out like a doused fire.

Since she found Nux alive she’s been hesitant to let him go. She wants to protect him from the world. Protect him from himself. Keep him to herself until his time runs out. “He’s different.”

“He isn’t that different. You can’t just coddle him and keep him in your bed.” Furiosa’s tone was stern. “You haven’t screwed him, have you?” It isn’t any better than what Immortan did to her and that thought slaps her in the face. Shaking her to her core. Her eyes start to water and she backs away from the older woman.

“No!” She’s mad at herself now. She’s treated him like a special thing. Maybe that is why he only holds her. That one cheek kiss is all she will ever get.

“He’s not a thing you can keep. You want him to lead the Boys, then you need to let him get back to them. Teach them what he’s learned.” The gun gets holstered and Furiosa looks around the room. The mess that the fight had made.

“I… I know. I just can’t help it. He’s dying more and more and there’s nothing I can do.” She picks up the folder from the Organic Mechanic. It’s been added to lately.

“Give him the choice. If he cares about you, he’ll fight to stay alive. You can’t force him into what you think is best.”

Furiosa leaves and Capable throws herself on the bed. She curls up in the space Nux had woken from and waits. She doesn’t know how to fill her time, though she should check on Crux and the pup training. Instead she goes out to Dag’s garden and helps her sister set up wires for the baby plants to cling to. Dag doesn’t bring up the yelling and neither does she.

When the sun starts to set, she washes off and goes inside. She isn’t hungry so she just changes her clothes and slips into bed.

“Capable.” He name is whispered and she wakes to shaking. Nux hovers above her, a large grin plastered on his face. His face is free of clay, which means he’s scrubbed himself off before waking her.

“Hi.” She looks out the window, only seeing the black sky and stars. “I didn’t think you’d be back.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He climbs over top of her and settles under the blankets as if this morning never happened. He’s naked again, but it is only now that she realizes how warm it is in the room. “Brought you something.”

She sits up and lights a lamp so she can see. “What is it?”

“Found my stash of sugar sweets. Been saving them a long time.” He opens a small box and peels one of the small balls off the others and presents it to her. It is an odd brown color.

“What do I do with it?” She’s never seen such a thing before, but Nux seems so excited. She wants to make him happy after their fight this morning. She should have just listened to him days ago.

“Put it in your mouth and let it dissolve. Don’t bite it.” He nods and takes one for himself and sets the others aside. He settles back down on the bed and looks up at her.

She’s shocked at the sweetness. Not even mother’s milk is this sweet. She wonders what it really is, but it doesn’t matter. She’s lost in the new experience and lets Nux pull her down to lay beside him.

“Where did you get these?” She asks around the treat.

“Rewards for salvage runs. Successful raids. Trade them for favors. Been saving them for a long time.” He wraps his arms around her and she snuggles close. He’s warm but not feverish and his breathing is steady and strong.

“Thank you.” She leans against his warm chest and sighs. She’s quiet until the sweet is dissolved, only leaving the lingering taste. “I’m sorry about this morning. I didn’t mean to keep you like that. It was hurtful.”

He looked at her strangely. Boys don’t apologize. They fight. They forget. They move on. His silence seems to beg her to change the subject and she does.

“Did you have fun today?” She clings to him a little tighter, savoring the feel of his natural skin. He’s missed some spots in his bath, but she finds it more endearing than annoying. He was trying to fit into her world.

“I did! Furiosa’s will be a glorious car. Drew up some fine plans. Very fine. Found my sugar sweets. Not many of us left.” He rambles and can’t seem to lie still.

“Maybe when you’re done with her car, you can make one for yourself.” She runs her fingers along the engine block scarring on his chest.

“Really? You mean it?”

“My leader needs a very shiny car. The Green Place must be protected by brave and honorable Boys.” He is different than the other Boys. He’s changed from that fanatical young thing that tried to kill them. He’s so much more now.

He nods and settles down. He sighs deeply and finally lays still. “Valhalla has been barred to me.” He voice is but a low whisper in her ear. “When my time is up, I will find a dark corner.”

She breaks from his embrace to look at him. “No! No… Nux no… no dark corner. When you die, I will be with you. I will witness you.” Her breath hitches in her throat, her voice raw and tinged with fear. Was he really going to just disappear and die alone and cold in the caves?

“Why?” His voice is a hushed whisper.

“Because… because I care about you. I want to be with you.” All her feelings spill from her eyes and her lips. “I love you.” She kisses his scarred lips softly, leaning into his frame.

She pulls back when he freezes. His eyes are wide and uncertain. She’s done it again, hasn’t she? “Sorry.” She loosens her hold on him, giving him the choice. She wants so much, but she doesn’t know how much he has to give.

He scoots back away from her, his expression closed for the first time. He mutters something unintelligible and turns over, curling into himself. 

She gets the hint and it hurts. He wants to be alone. She scoots away from him and sleeps on the other side of the bed. She lets her tears soak through the soft pillows on her bed.

Nux

He waits until she stops moving and her breathing evens out. Only then he allows himself to slip out of the bed and make his way out of the Vault, grabbing his pants on the way. He makes his way down to the catacombs, traveling down through the lit areas and into the tunnels below. He stopped in the slurry pool and dove in, coating himself with the white gunk and tried to stop thinking about Capable’s words. Toxic. Poison. What’s a little more time stolen?

If he’s condemned to a death in the Dark Places, only to have his body tossed out in the desert for the birds to eat, then… then he’s not going to be tamed. Not by Capable who loves him. What is this love but a weakness strangling his heart until it drags them both down to the dark places. He is not a stud for breed stock, he is a War Boy. A Fury Driver. A Black Thumb. He is all those and nothing now that he has been cast from the Gates of Valhalla. But he doesn’t want to be nothing. Not anymore. He has to be more to be worthy. Worth of… immortality. Worthy of her.

He’s still drying when he pulls on his pants and stalks down the darkest tunnels. He will never be big but he’s always had Brass. He gets silent, questioning looks from other Boys and he hisses and growls at them. Dominance is a game he can play. He may be small, but he’s had to fight for everything he’s ever had. He will fight. He was born to fight.

He thumps his chest and stalks down, down, down into the bowels of the Citadel. Down to the fighting pits. He’s never been in the Band, but every single one of the Boys is drilled with the drum calls of battle. The drums in the pits aren’t as big as the ones on the Doof Wagon, but they are big enough to make the lower catacombs rattle. He picks up the heavy sticks and experimentally taps the drum. It is strangely satisfying. He pounds out a challenge cadence and pauses, then repeats the motions with more confidence. He does not have to wait long before curious Boys stream into the large cavern.

He jumps down into the middle of the pit and lets out a war cry. His first challenger steps up and answers, then the fight begins. Challenges are usually non-lethal, but sometimes things get out of control. Nux funnels his frustration and rage at being denied his immortality into his fists and feet. He makes the first yield to him and takes on the next. He fights and fights until his whole body aches and his arms feel like they’re made of led. He lost count of how many challengers he’s beaten. He’s never been this good in the pits before, but he usually saved his best for the road. Now he’s giving it all he has, taking down bigger opponents than he ever. Capable wants him to lead. She doesn’t understand that this is how. Dominance and strength. He needs to climb to the top of those he’s betrayed.

His vision wavers, blackening along the edges. His movements are getting clumsier and other fights are starting to break out on the edges of the arena.  He howls and pushes his last opponent down. The others in the room answer him back and he is enveloped in the press of hundreds of bodies. Someone starts playing the drums again and it turns into a full-on doof. Someone picks up a guitar and starts clumsily blaring chords. It isn’t Coma’s driving beats, but it works enough for the Boys as they thrash together. They are life. All their half-lives pooled together into something massive and healthy. Something greater than each of them alone.

Nux has missed this. He gets his fill of contact and pulls away from the others and climbs up onto the band platform next to the shrine of the V8. He shouts again and the crowd answers him. He grabs a pipe and pushes it the shrine over. The crash is deafening. The silence is thick, filled only with the beat of his heart pounding in his ears.

“I am Nux Banned from Valhalla! I will not worship a dead god!”

The crowd mumbles uncertainly, but they are paying attention. He has proven himself through challenge.

“Together we are strong! We are the War Boys! We are the Repair Boys! Our Half-Lives were meaningless to Immortan Joe!” He hears some noise of agreement, he has to be fast, clever.

“Furiosa the Iron-Hand, the Protector of Mothers, the Killer of Gods, the Keeper of the Green Place asks for our loyalty and Time. She will not lead us to Valhalla, but she will find each of us a Purpose!” He has nothing else to offer them. Furiosa has nothing more to offer. She will not be a god, but she will be a leader.

“We will have more water and food, better vehicles and bunks. She wants to stop the Sickness and help the Wretched. She asks for the Repair Boys to build and support this new Citadel. Will you do it?” The roar is louder than he expects, but he’s sure it’s because there are more Repair Boys left now.

He lets the hush fall back over the crowd again. “She asks for War Boys to defend this new Citadel! Strong boys with deadly aim! Will you do this?” Again, the entire cavern fills with noise.

They need something to cling to as much as he does. They need to spend their half-lives well. Change is hard but they are willing to embrace new orders. His name is chanted and the drum starts again. The guitar joins in and he leaps back into the crowd. Hands catch him and he is passed among them, pulled down into the warm embrace of his brothers. 

When the morning horns sound, he pulls himself out of the pile of bodies. He feels like he’s been thrown from the rig again but his thoughts are less dark. His body finally gives out at the foot of Capable’s bed.

Capable

The bed is empty when she wakes. She is disappointed, but not surprised. She slips out of the bed and nearly trips over his gray body. He breath catches in her throat as she kneels down beside him. He is covered in war paint, blood and sweat. His head is hot with fever but he breathes steadily. She cradles him in her lap, several questions fighting for dominance in her head.

His eyes flutter open and lock on her face. “Good morning,” she whispers.

“How long?” He rasps, but doesn’t pull away from her.

“I just woke up and you were here. Not long.” She runs her thumb along a deep gash in his forehead. “Where did you go?”

He grunts and tries to sit up, but ends up leaning against her shoulder instead. “The Pits. Fighting.”

“Why?” She doesn’t understand, but she needs to.

“You want me to lead.” He says simply and he drapes himself over her. He sounds more tired than he had when she found him in the wasteland.

“What did you do?” She helps him up and sit on the edge of the bed and gets a basin of water to clean him up.

“Challenge.” He drifts off sitting up, his eyes still open but unfocused. She washes the paint off him and cleans his new wounds. She lays him down in bed and inserts the needle into his arm. She’s not used to the sting of it, but it is a pain she will bare if it means she can keep him strong.

She sits on the bed beside him and strokes his brow. A thin layer of stubble is starting to sprout on his head. She kisses his forehead. “I love you, Nux.”

He smiles in his sleep.

Chapter Text

Nux  

Living in the Vault with Capable is difficult. There are so many rules about everything. No wonder the Servitudes were always annoyed.

“No war paint in bed, Nux.” 

“Don’t touch that, it doesn’t belong to you.”

 “Wear clean pants!”

He can understand the first rule; the bed and sheets are gifts from Valhalla. Soft and wonderful, they make him feel like sleeping isn’t as much of a waste when he got to experience such comfort. This is a secret he will never, ever share with other Boys, because for once, he wants to be selfish and keep it to himself. Hoard those soft moments like sugar-sweets

The second is a little more difficult. The Former Wives (now called The Mothers by most of the inhabitants) are not things. He is finally starting to believe that he and the other Boys are not things. But how does one own an object and lay claim to it if it has no purpose? Books make the least sense, their pages full of lines and squiggles. He knows numbers and figures, but so few of the books in the Vault have such lovely pages with diagrams and pictures.

The only book that even interested him was one that Capable is currently reading. It has a lot of faded pictures, some even in color of people and what they look like on the inside. He asks her to read it to him, but she usually just smiles and tells him it doesn’t make sense to her either. The pages she folds over worry him, pages that show blood and the tiny things that go in it. Pages with pictures and diagrams pointing out things in necks and shoulders. He tries to distract her from such things. He knows she wants to fix him, hoist him up and make him shiny, but his Sickness is too deep. It has been for a long time.

The most baffling rule though has been about pants. Of course pants were important. Protecting the soft sensitive bits were necessary. Pockets were a must for carrying tools and parts and pencils and sugar-sweets (now that he knows that Capable and surprisingly Furiosa enjoy them). Those dress things were lacking in function even if they did not weight the women down. But every single time he turns around it seems Capable is taking his pants to clean them. She makes him empty all of his pockets and gives him another pair (who ever needs a second pair of pants!) to fill up and wear. When the first pair is cleaned, she makes him take off the second pair and start the process over again!

And she doesn’t like pants in bed either. She wrinkles her nose and tells him they are dirty. Her obsession with dirt is as mad as his Blood Bag (they keep telling him his name was Max, but he can’t be bothered to remember). He tells her that there’s nothing wrong with dirt and grease and paint and finds himself exiled to the floor. Even though her floor is better than most floors, it isn’t the bed, which he is finding to be better than fighting about dirt.

Capable is maddening, but the other Wives (Mothers) are even moreso! They make him take off his boots at the door of the Vault and wash his hands before eating. Such wastes of time and water! He has to check to make sure his pants will not stain the furniture. Then they yell at him when he can’t be bothered and sits on the floor.

Today he thinks he finally has the solution. Today when he returns from the Shop and the work on Furiosa’s new car, he will simply just remove his pants and set them with his boots near the Vault door. He is still wearing his paint, since it will be a long time before he joins Capable in bed. He refuses to wash more than once a day. So far, so good. He has not stained anything. He has not touched anything not his. He searches the shelves for the green book, the one with all the lovely numbers in it and sits down on one of the comfortable couches. No yelling. Good. Now he can wait for Capable with the number book.

“Nux! What the hell are you doing?” The Dag enters from her garden, wrapped in a fluttery white dress.

He jumps up at her screech and runs over to relieve her of the box of vegitables she carries. She usually only calls him when she needs work done. Which he is fine with.

This time, The Dag practically leaps away from him. “Go away! Get back!”

He stands, confused at her expression. It isn’t until Cheedo shrieks as well that he’s sure there must be something wrong with him again.

“Nux! Why are you naked?” The two women, (the word is women isn’t it?) huddle together and stare at him like he has grown another head. He reaches up and checks Barry and Larry, no, they are still the same size. 

“My pants are dirty.” He tries to explain and points to them, folded neatly on top of his boots.

“You can’t be naked!” Cheedo shouts and he takes a step back, looking down at himself. Surely he has nothing they haven’t seen before. They were Breeders at one point. So what was the problem? The barracks were full of clothed and unclothed Boys bustling about their days, coming and going as their tasks dictate.

“What’s all the screaming about?” Furiosa! She will make sense of all this. She stopped some of the other silly rules the women tried to impose on just him. He will shave with whatever knife he wants to, not that silly small thing Toast tried to force him to use.

He turns to Furiosa, his expression still confused. She looks between him and the two women. 

“Nux, why are you naked?” 

“My pants are dirty. No sitting on the furniture with dirty pants. Don’t sit on the floor like a dog. I’m following the rules.” He states as plainly as he can. It isn’t his fault if they can’t remember the rules like he does.

Furiosa smiles and shakes her head. He knew he was right! “Dag, Cheedo, you two should know better.” She pulls off the buckles that hold her mechanical arm to her shoulder. His fingers twitch, he so desperately wants to look at it close one day, but he is too afraid to ask.

“Nux. Put your pants back on.” What? Why? He was right!

He looks at her for a moment, his heart skipping beats at the confused defiance, but he can’t reconcile the conflicting orders. He shakes his head to clear it and pulls his pants back on and puts his boots on, then heads down into the catacombs.

Maybe he has outlived his welcome? He will miss Capable’s bed. But now is not the time to think about that. He needs to find himself a bunk for the night. Someplace dry with air that isn’t too stale.

Capable

She is tired after a long day of sitting with the Organic Mechanic and watching him give the oldest War Boys their weekly physicals. She does her best to learn their names and treat them with kindness. They call her Mother and treat her like a goddess. She hopes that will go away soon. She is no mother. She is no goddess. She is just a woman. Tired in mind and body. She wants to eat her dinner and curl up with that medical book next to Nux.

When she reaches the Vault, she can hear the argument happening. She has to debate with herself if she really wants to enter. Her stomach and aching feet win out and she steps inside.

“Capable!” She groans to herself and turns to Dag and Cheedo.

“Yes?” She looks around for any sign of Nux. His boots are not on the mat by the door. Maybe he hasn’t been here yet.

“You need to tell Nux that he can’t walk around naked!” Cheedo cries. 

Naked? Was that all? “Did he tell you why he was naked?”

Furiosa laughed and sipped her glass of water. “He said his pants were dirty. He remembers the furniture rules better than Dag.” The Dag brushes the soil from her hands and glares at their leader.

Oh no. She knows this argument well. She can’t get the concept of cleanliness to stick in his sweet head. His points about waste are valid, but he doesn’t understand that dirt can make him sick. More sick, since his blood is weak and can’t fight infections. She sighs and slips her boots back on. “Where did he go?”

“He put on his pants and boots and left. You missed him by at least a half-hour.” Furiosa does not get up to help. She feels these ‘domestic spats’ are a waste of time. Capable is about to agree, especially when she has to track down her Boy.

She stops the first Boy she sees. “Have you seen Nux?”

“Yes he went this way!” She can’t recall the Boy’s name and it bothers her. But she tries to pay attention to where he leads her.

She is only a level below the Vault when she is lead to a rounded archway covered by an old tarp. “He’s in there?”

The Boy nods. “Yes. Saw him go in.” And she is alone. Just her and the curtain.

She brushes aside the barrier and looks around. It looks like a storage room, large metal shelves are bolted into the stone. There is a small window that looks out into the garden set high in the wall. The shelves are mostly empty, except for the War Boy hanging off them as he fastens a thick webbing between the two shelves. 

“Nux?” She steps into the room. “What are you doing?”

“Capable!” He ties the webbing tightly with a harpooner’s knot and jumps down to the floor.

“What are you doing in here?” She brushes her fingers against the metal shelves and then looks up at him. 

“There are too many rules about pants. I can’t sit on the floor. I can’t have dirty pants. Dirty pants can’t sit on furniture. Can’t not wear pants.” He throws his hands up in frustration. “Waste of time.” 

She smiles. “I’m sorry. There really are too many rules.” She looks up at the hammock he’s strung and notices the sheet he’s stolen from her laundry pile. “Does this mean you’ll be sleeping here now?” She can’t help the disappointment that leaks into her tone. She hopes he doesn’t pick up on it.

“Should be sleeping here anyway.” He did. He looks away from her and scrambles up the shelves, depositing himself into the large hammock. 

“You don’t have to move out if you don’t want to.” She climbs up the shelves and he reaches out a strong hand to help her into the hammock. He plucks his boots off and sets them on the shelf. When she settles in beside him, he takes her boots to place beside his.

He stays quiet and shifts her into his arms and lays back. “Don’t want to. Have to. They don’t want me because the rules make me wrong. All the time wrong.”

She settles into his arms, clinging to him and tangling her fingers through the webbing. They are too high off the floor and the creaking of the ropes isn’t helping her feel less dizzy, but his arms around her make her feel safe. “You aren’t wrong. They just don’t know what they’re missing.”

“What will you do when you need blood?” She rests her head on his chest and looks out the window at the seedlings springing up out of the dirt. 

He grunts, a noise indicating that he doesn’t want to talk about it.

“What about when I want you with me?” She moves her head and looks up at his face.

“Spoiled.” He smirks and she’s having a hard time telling which one of them he’s talking about. He looks tired, more tired that she feels. She forgets that he tries so hard to mask his weaknesses that he runs himself into the ground every few days.

She smiles as he starts snoring softly and she manages to get the sheet wrapped around them. He feels warm, the night fever returning. In the morning when she sends him down to the Organic Mechanic, she is going to have to lay some better ground rules with her sisters. She will not have Nux be unwelcome after all he’s done for them. All he’s doing that they don’t know about.

Though she could get used to this. Settled against his chest. Slowly rocking. Except whatever it is digging into her. She shifts slightly, hoping that maybe he’s finally interested in something other than contact but no. It is only a large wrench he left in his front pocket. She pulls the wrench free and tosses it down to the floor where it clanged nosily. He buries his face in her hair. She lets herself be lulled to sleep by the rhythm of his breathing. She wonders if he still dreams in chrome.

Chapter Text

Capable

The people of the Citadel have finally stopped calling them Wives. They are Mothers now and she thinks that is almost as insulting. The others love it, encourage it. Toast the Knowing, Mother of Information, she collects stories and history. Cheedo the Fragile, Mother of the Ground People (the no-longer Wretched) she ensures that their voices are heard. The Dag is the Mother of Green Things, tending the crops and teaching anyone that will listen how to tend to plants. She has converted a large contingent of War Boys and dubbed them Farmers.

Capable is the Mother of Boys. She cares for and leads the Repair Boys and War Boys. She hates the title; she doesn’t want to be their mother. She isn’t anyone’s mother. Nux calls her ‘Mother Capable’ and her first reaction is to punch him in the nose. “I am not your mother. I’m not anyone’s mother.”

He reels back, holding his face, his eyes questioning her actions. It is the first time she’s ever hit him. “You care for the Boys. Protect us. Speak for us. Isn’t that what a mother does?” His nose is red but not bloodied. “You need to hit harder than that. Harder next time!” He laughs and sits down beside her at the table in the common area of the Vault. Her sisters watch the conversation, silent for now.

“Mothers have babies, Nux.” She can tell that he doesn’t understand. He was taken from his true mother a long time ago. “The Dag will be a mother soon.” 

They finish their meal and he escorts her down to the dark catacombs to check on her Boys. When he brings her down, he always carries a torch, standing in front of her to clear the way. Reverently. She tries to show him equality, but he still isn’t ready to accept it. At least not in public.

The Dag gives birth to a healthy girl child soon after. There are celebrations all throughout the Citadel. It is Cheedo that marches a grease stained and painted Nux to the bath before he’s allowed near the infant. Capable can hear him whine in inpatient protest. He’s never seen a sprog before but she wonders if he will be bored with babies once he realizes all they do is sleep and cry and eat and poop. Will he think they are wasting time? 

It is her turn to hold the baby and for a few seconds, she pretends that this is the girl that was taken from her. But the illusion is shattered when she looks at the yellow hair on the babe’s head. 

“Is that it?” The couch dips with Nux’s weight as he sits close, his hip touching hers, arm on the back of her chair. His face is close to the baby’s head, trying to see as much as he can.

“She. She’s a girl, not a thing.” She turns so Nux can see the sleeping newborn.

He reaches out to try to touch, but pulls his hands back. “So tiny. Soft. She will get bigger?”

“Yes, she will. You know you were this small once.” She teases. She finds it cute how the Boys believe that they were always fully grown. “Do you want to hold her?” 

“No,” He shakes his head. “Too small.”

“You won’t break her.” She hands off the baby and positions his arms. He looks scared to death and sits so still. His eyes are wide and terrified. She wraps her arm around his shoulder to reassure him.

He looks up from the baby and into her eyes. “Will you make a baby too?”

She’s surprised by the question but is saved from answering by little Angharad’s tiny cries for food and her mother. He looks to her for guidance. Toast takes the infant back to Dag for a feeding and Nux looks at her again for her answer. She can’t distract him from the question forever.

“Maybe.” She leans against his shoulder. “What about you?”

“What about me?” He laughs. “Not breed stock.” He looks at her as if she told him the sky was purple. She hates that look because it means they will have a stubborn argument and she will be angry and he will just let it go. He has no time for grudges, which makes her simmer on it all the more.

“You know I don’t care about that, right?” She gently turns his head back towards her and looks into those wonderful blue eyes of his. “If I have a baby, I want it to be yours.” 

He gets that blank look on his face, the look he gets when she really confuses him. She has to be careful. He resists some ideas more than others. “No.” He shakes his head. “Too sick.” She sees his fear and his longing. He won’t let himself have more than he thinks he needs. She just wants him to have everything he wants.

“You aren’t too sick. Immortan was more sick than you are.” She can’t hide the disgust on her face as she remembers the former ruler’s weeping sores and disgusting, rotting flesh and the horrible rattle of his lungs.

Nux shakes his head and pulls away. Just because he’s stopped believing the man was a god, doesn’t mean he’s ready for the full truth. She leans over and kisses his shoulder, right between Larry and Barry’s silly smiling faces. He leans into her touch. She doesn’t press the subject and he doesn’t mention it again.

He leaves for the Shop, to work on Furiosa’s car or whatever it is he does all day when he isn’t glued to her side. Capable finds the Vault too stifling and her bed too comfortable and she stays there for the rest of the day. Nux returns late and sneaks in bed beside her. He curls up next to her during the night and leaves early the next morning; baby Angharad’s cries make him uncomfortable.

She goes about her day sluggishly, unfocused and she begs off the concerned looks of her Boys with a wave of her hand. She stands outside the Vault’s perpetually opened door and listens to The Dag sing to the fussing child. Capable cannot make her feet cross the threshold. She decides instead to climb into Nux’s hammock and stare out the window until she sleeps again.

She makes excuses for her behavior and Nux believes them all. She can’t tell him that she wants what was taken from her. She wants something he won’t (or can’t) give her. He doesn’t understand these things and she just doesn’t have the will to tell him about the baby girl that Immortan threw away. So she lets the days wear on and hides in his room, letting him chatter about his day.

Nux

Despite what Toast and Cheedo think, he is not stupid. He does know exactly how babies come to be. He knows that it is entirely possible that if he does stud for Capable, she will get pregnant and then things will get much more complicated. What if the child inherits his useless blood that drags his body down like filthy and used oil? Capable has been generous with hers, giving freely whenever he runs through his own. Surely she couldn’t support him and a child at the same time? He won’t let her run herself dry for him. And he won’t curse his Sickness on a sprog, that would just be cruel.

He knows something is wrong. It has been wrong since he found her in his hammock. She’s different and he’s not sure how. He fears she’s caught some sort of sickness, but she doesn’t have a fever.

He hates going to the Organic Mechanic. He hates the smell of the place and the coldness, but he goes because he is worried. The man himself studies something lumpy in a jar and Nux waits and waits and waits an eternity to be spoken to.

“What do you need, Nux?” He’s surprised the Organic Mechanic remembers him, but then again he has made himself rather memorable lately. 

“Capable,” he starts and lets the words spill out of his mouth. “She sleeps all day for three days and doesn’t want to eat. She doesn’t have a fever.”

The man looks up at him for the first time. “Any nausea?”

Nux shakes his head. He’s not seen it.

“Did you stick your shift in her?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Too sick.”

He’s startled when the Organic Mechanic laughed and shook his head. “You are not too sick for such an activity. If Mother Capable chooses you as her partner, that’s your business. But you Boys shouldn’t lie.”

He sits down hard on the metal stool, letting the information wash over him. “But what about…” he trailed off, all his questions fighting for room to spill out of his mouth.

“She’s healthy. Your Sickness won’t be passed on. Now some of them can, but not yours specifically.” Nux lets himself be poked and prodded by the Organic Mechanic’s fingers and tools. “But, as a doctor, I can tell you that just because you can do something, doesn’t always mean you should.”

Nux nods through his foggy brain. “I shouldn’t want… more.” He croaks out. 

The man laughed again. “Everyone wants more! We scrape out of the sand everything we have and it isn’t quiet enough. Parts of us still remember the Before Time and I know we probably wanted More then too. If you can find an extra scrap well then, have at it!” The doctor pressed Larry and then Barry. “Going to have to do something about these soon.”

He finds himself missing half the things the Organic Mechanic told him after that, his brain still locked on that first revelation. The concept of More bounces around in his brain, warring with the concept of Time. They fight and wrestle until he could no longer keep still and retreats to his corner of the Shop. He passes by Furiosa’s nearly finished car and to the bones of the Deuce Coupe he’d pulled out of the scrap pile. It wasn’t his old ride, but it was close enough to start on. He tinkers until he feels calm enough to get the words out of his mouth.

Capable is still laying in his hammock and he carefully climbs in behind her, wrapping his arms around her as she lay wrapped in his sheet. “Hi.” Her voice is quiet as she looks out the window at the growing garden. 

“Hi.” He trails a finger in her hair. “Are you sick?”

“No. I’m not sick.”

“Are you sad?” He tries again. Sickness is easier to deal with. Sadness is difficult. He still feels the clawing drag of it in his chest sometimes, but he finds he can ignore it most days. But he knows that sometimes Boys get Sad and they wander away into the dark corners to sleep.

“I think so.” She turns in his arms, carefully. He’s pretty sure that if this continues he will have to move her back to her room. He doesn’t want to fall to the floor. 

“Why?” He knows it is more than just a simple thing, but he doesn’t want to loose her to the dark corners. Not when he’s allowing himself to think of the More.

She’s quiet a long time and runs her fingers along the engine block scar on his chest. “I was a mother once. Before we escaped. I had a baby girl.”

He lets himself imagine a small version of Capable, red curls framing wide, curious eyes. He likes this thought and tucks it away for later when he is alone.

“She was born alive. But Immortan… he didn’t want a girl. He took her and… I don’t know what happened to her after that.” Her wet cheek against this shoulder makes him want to throw the dead under the wheels and leave his body for the birds to pick over.

“I’m sorry.” The words feel strange on his tongue. He is sorry, but he knows there was nothing he could have done. At the time he was still a devoted follower of the V8, bound for Valhalla with righteous fury. 

“Angharad makes it feel more real. I want to be a mother, a real mother, but…”

He holds her closer. “Makes you want… More. More than you should want.”

“I know it’s hard for you. To want things.”

“I want things. I want a lot of things.” He tires his best to put his feelings to words, though he knows the words aren’t what he means to say. “Thinking of having more… makes me realize that I have nothing. It… hurts.” 

“Nux, you don’t have nothing.” She pulls away slightly.

“You are not a thing to have.” He smiles and kisses her hair.

She settles against him again and they watch the rest of the day go by out the window.

“Organic Mechanic says I can stud for you, if you’ll have me. I won’t give you sick babies.” He’s willing to try at least.

“When you say it like that, it sounds so cold.”

“How am I supposed to say it?” He looks down at her, puzzled at how else it could be put. She was not his wife. He could never hold her to such a position, nor would he.

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard it any other way.”

They both fall quiet again and he watches her sleep. He hopes that Capable gets to be a real mother. He hopes her child is healthy and strong. He hopes he has enough Time to see it.

Chapter Text

Nux

He sees his half-life flash before his eyes and braces his hands on the dash of the car so his head doesn’t get bashed in as the car lurches to a halt. He gulps in air greedily and forces his hands to stop shaking before he turns to meet Capable’s eyes. 

He never should have agreed to this, but this woman, this wonderful Valkyrie asked such a simple thing of him right when he drifted off to sleep. How could he refuse her?

He should have refused her. Every grinding gear from the car scraped up against his spine. Every sudden stop that made him bash his skull against the door or the dash made him wish for a raid, any excuse to pull her from behind the wheel.

“How was it? Don’t lie?” Her eyes are hopeful and she’s smiling. Shiny V8 she’s smiling!

He wishes he was dead. How can he answer? Capable means the world to him but how can she abuse an engine so? “I… it wasn’t…” He takes a deep breath of dry air and presses himself against the door, as far away from her as he can be in the cab of his Deuce Coupe. “I think we’re done for today.”

She pulls the goggles off her face and rests them in her hair. His goggles. His goggles that he lost all those months ago when they met. She still won’t give them back. “How long will it take?”

His chest tightens and he grips the metal frame of the door, pulling on the handle in case he needs to escape. “How long will it take for what?”

“To learn to drive like you?” Her face is determined. Usually when she’s in this mood he gives her what she wants. But he knows she won’t like the answer. He hates this spot she’s put him in. He should have forced Bin or Gart on these first lessons.

“I started learning soon as me legs were long enough to reach the pedals with blocks. When a pup is old enough, he starts to build his car. When the car runs, he learns to drive it.” He pets the dash of the revived car, the unnamed beauty he worked countless hours on to make chrome. The poor car. It must be in pain from Capable’s torture.

“I got us all the way out here!” Her voice raises pitch now that she’s angry and he knows that he will either have to walk back to the Citadel or somehow pacify her enough to let him drive home.

“Yes. We came this far but the transmission is grinding and we are far out and your driving hurts me.” It slips out. He doesn’t mean for it to, but it does. 

“Hurts you?” Her face down-shifts from anger to concern. He doesn’t know which expression he dreads more. Her anger is loud shouting, then simmering anger that lasts forever. The concern makes her hover over him, smothering and treating him like a broken thing that needs fixing. She feeds him concoctions that are strange experiments of The Dag and the Organic Mechanic. She makes him waste Time and then makes him feel bad for arguing about it. It was maddening.

He blinks back out of his thoughts and looks away from her. He can’t quite think of the words to explain it to her. “I’ve been a driver for a long time. I don’t think I can teach you except the way I learned. And we don’t have that much time.” He sees the look on her face and holds up his hands. “Don’t have the entire half-life to teach you how to feel the car and just… know it.”

He’s not sure how to judge her silence. He’s even more confused when she pulls the lever on the seat and pushes it back. “Come over here.”

He’s already out the door and helping her out of the driver’s seat. He settles in behind the wheel and grabs for the door, but she slides in and sits on his lap. She grabs the wheel and puts her booted feet on his. It takes him a minute, but he sees her plan and grins. “Oh! Alright. We’ll try it this way. Clever Capable.” He kisses the back of her neck and rests his chin on her shoulder and wraps his arms around her.

“Now you can drive and I can get a feel for it.” And so he drove all around the outer perimeter of the Citadel, almost wasting an entire tank of guzzoline but it was worth it. What a rush to feel both the car and Capable at the same time! Their bodies moving together across the sands. He felt like a young pup going out on his first raid.

He lets her drive the car back into the garage and she giggles and pulls him out of the car. Their lips crash together despite the looks of the other Boys. There is quite the crowd watching Mother Capable and Nux the Denied practically rutting in the car shop.

Capable pulls him out by the hand and they make it all the way to Capable’s room before they both collapse on the bed in a pile of leather and adrenaline and laughter.

He is content to just lay there on the top blanket with her squished up beside him. This isn’t Idle Time, it is something else that he cannot quite put a name to and classify. He can’t quite explain it to the other Boys and he’s not sure if he really wants to. He lets her go slightly so she can reposition herself to kick off her boots. “Nux… is that a wrench in your pocket?”

He’s not sure he understands the question but he fishes out three wrenches from various pockets and presents them to her. She has that expression on her face she gets when he does something she doesn’t quite understand because they were raised in two different worlds. She sets the wrenches on the floor and turns back to him. “Nux, are you… do you even like kissing?” 

What kind of question is that? “Yeah, ‘course I do.” He nods and leans in for another, but she’s put her hand on his chest to keep him at bay. He leans against her hand a bit, but that’s just because he likes it when she touches his chest. 

She sighs and he’s sure that he’s done something again. He can’t be sure what it was that’s set her off, but he’s pretty sure there won’t be any more kissing or lap driving any time soon. Not until she stops being mad. He settles in, wiggling just a bit so he can kick off his dirty boots and curl up on his side. If he is going to get a talking to, he might as well be as comfortable as he can despite the fact that he’s never wanted to rut her more than now. But he can’t just tell her this because he knows what happened to the Organic Mechanic when he asked The Dag to rut. It had been bad enough that anyone in the sickroom had gotten poked, prodded and bruised a bit more than usual.

“Well?” She asks and he thinks he missed something she’s said, but there was only some kind of implied question before. He cannot read her mind and he just wants her to explain. 

She’s wasting Time again. He lets out a frustrated groan. “I don’t know what you want, Capable.”

She makes an equally frustrated sound and pulls at his belts. “What is it you Boys call it? Rut?”

He opens his eyes with surprise. “You want to rut?” His tone is as neutral as he can make it around all that surprise. She keeps telling him she wants a baby, but he’s pretty sure there’s more to it than just rutting with a female. But she was a breeder so she is probably the expert.

“Yes! Yes you silly boy!” She laughs at him and bends down to kiss him again.

“Okay! You drive!” And just like in the car, they move together.

Capable

She’s not sure what she expected, but his willingness to let her take control outweighed the clumsiness and false starts as they got used to each other in a new way. Overall, watching her Nux curled up with his head on her shoulder and his arms and legs wrapped around her sleeping peacefully (a rare thing) was worth the wait.

She carefully slips out from underneath Nux and kisses his temple before washing up a bit and putting on a dress. She hums a soft tune to herself and steps into the Vault’s small kitchen area and pokes around for some food.

“It looks like someone finally got what she wanted.” Capable turns to meet Toast’s grin.

“I’m a free woman. He’s a free man. We can do what we like.” She feels a little defensive at Toast’s teasing. Like her sister was judging her for choosing to share herself with Nux. As much as Toast knows, she doesn’t always understand.

“So you’re just going to have some babies then? How is that any different than being a Breeder?” Toast crosses her arms, egging on the fight.

“It’s different because I’m in control now. I can say what I want to do. I want to be a mother, a real mother. I want Nux to be my partner. Not a wife or a husband. I don’t think there’s a word for what we are to each other.” Her sister doesn’t understand. She doesn’t want to. She’s rejected anything and everything they’d ever learned as breeders and hates anything that calls back to the old ways.

“Toast, leave her alone.” Furiosa stands in the doorway, looking like she’s preparing for a fight.

Capable can see Nux hovering just in the doorway, his body tense but his eyes burning with fever and something she can’t quite place. She grabs the hunk of bread and pieces of fruit she came to get and stands next to him. He curls a long arm around her, protective but not too possessive. She can easily step away from him if she wants to.

“Nux,” Furiosa nods to him. “Rictus’s rooms need cleared out. Salvage what you can, burn what you need to. Once the place is clean the both of you claim it as yours.” She looks back at Toast.

Capable wants to stay and listen, but Nux gently pulls her away, out of the vault and down the hallway towards the abandoned chambers of the hulking brute. It’s been shut up tight since they got back, none of them having the courage to enter. Nux even seems to shift nervously before the large door.

“Will she stay mad?” He asks instead, leaning against the cool metal door.

“Probably not.” She’s not sure, but maybe leaving the Vault will do them all good. Close quarters might be making them all a little crazy. And Toast still can’t get past Nux’s upbringing to see how far he’s come.

“I don’t want to go in there.” He confesses in a whisper. “Rictus did terrible things. To Boys. To Servitudes. To any of the Wretched he could steal.”

She sees Rictus in her nightmares sometimes, perched on top of the war rig, reaching for Nux to pluck him out of the driver’s seat. Sometimes he succeeds and Nux is killed in front of her before he can crash the rig. She never tells him this nightmare. She doesn’t want to hear how good of a death that would be.

Hand in hand, they open the door and Nux rushes forward, desperately seeking the latches on the windows to let the fresh air in. The room stinks of spoiled Mother’s Milk and something else that’s hard to describe.

She stands back and lets Nux rummage around, finding all the spoilt milk and garbage and depositing it in an empty oil drum. He lights the refuse with his torch-starter and feeds the fire anything he can find. All of Rictus’s bedding goes aflame. Nux drags the pile of mattresses out the door into the hallway. Someone surely will want them, but she is glad he doesn’t.

Her eyes catch on another door, partially obscured by a tarp tacked to the wall. “Nux, over here.”

She gestures at the door and he pulls the tarp down, folding it obsessively before eyeing the door. She holds her breath, just in case there is another stash of milk and sees Nux step all the way inside. “Capable!”

She enters the room behind him and sees the strange sight. It is almost a miniature version of her room, except that the windows do not open to the garden. There is another door but it leads down to a Servitude’s corridor. But the most startling thing in the room is the child.

She sits on the bed and stares up at Nux with wide eyes. Her hair is tangled and dirty, but in the patches of sunlight, it shows red. Red like her own. Her knees feel weak and she stumbles over to the bed to look at her. She’s small, but not a baby. Big enough but it can’t possibly be.

The bed is filthy, food scraps and waste surround the child. It doesn’t seem like she’s been abandoned too long. But Nux scoops the child up with one arm and slips his other around her shoulders. He brings them into Rictus’s washroom and sets the child down to fuss with the boiler.

She’s frozen in place when the girl turns curious eyes up at her. She must still be dreaming. She bends down and removes the dirty rags from the child and bathes her, Nux hovering close by. She wraps the girl in a clean looking towel and finds herself down in the Organic Mechanic’s shop. She’s not sure how she made it. Maybe Nux carried them both. Blood is taken from both. Records are checked. The child is quiet and still throughout, but her eyes keep going back to Nux, seemingly fascinated by him.

“She’s dehydrated. Could use food. Someone’s been taking care of ‘er. Deaf as a post though. Probably why Rictus was allowed to keep ‘er.”

“She’s… mine?” Her tongue was dry in her mouth and she couldn’t stop looking at the girl curled around Nux’s arm.

“Blood types check out so far as I can tell,” the man hovers uncertainly. He knows that his life was only spared due to his skill.  “If you don’t want to keep her, I think we can find someplace to put her.”

“No, I want her.” She looks at the girl, tracing her small fingers along the V8 scarred into Nux’s chest. “Does she have a name?”

“None on file. Still young enough and being deaf one probably hasn’t stuck.”

Her daughter.

“She’s so Chrome.” Nux bends down to stare right into her eyes. She grabs Larry and squeezes, causing him to yelp. “No! Shiny! Don’t tug on them. You’ll strangle me for sure.”

Her brain feels stuck. It hurts to think of that name she cried out to the crying child as she was pulled from her arms. The same name her father used to call her, long, long before he met with the lancer’s spear and she was taken to the Citadel. “Sunshine.”

She’s very glad that Nux is with her, he scoops Sunshine up on his hip and helps her up with his free hand, holding it as he guides them back up the dark tunnels to the tower. Is this what family is meant to be? Walking in the darkness together, towards something better?

Chapter Text

11 Signs

Capable

It takes less than a week to clear out all of Rictus’s things and move Capable’s into the suite. Sometimes she thinks she is still dreaming. That somewhere out in the desert, she crashed Nux’s car and is dead in some afterlife because she’s never been this happy before. But reality creeps in from the edges. If this were an afterlife, Nux would not suffer the night fevers or need to be topped off with blood every week.

Her sisters coo over her daughter and even Furiosa pats Sunshine’s wild curls when she thinks no one is watching. Today, she sits in the Vault and listens to Cheedo and Dag argue about what to plant next. Their projects are coming along nicely, but hers seem stalled. More of the pups are trained but even the most valiant salvage effort could not build up their fleet. They’ve been lucky that the few skirmishes they’ve had didn’t do too much damage. At least she got rid of the disgusting slurry pool and replaced the Boys’ paint with a safer mixture, tested by the Organic Mechanic. It isn’t exactly the same shade of chalk-white, but they don’t complain. At least, not to her. She’s also got Bin organized and has him overseeing the cleanup of the Boys’ bunks, making sure that any dead are cleaned out and disposed of properly.

She glances over at her daughter to see her watching Furiosa intently. She wonders what the girl is thinking. Their leader looks up at the girl and beacons her over with her mechanical hand. The girl is drawn to the machine, her eyes wide and fingers grasping at the metal. “Are you sure she’s not Nux’s?” The Imperator’s mouth twists up in a small smile.

Capable moves over and picks up the girl, sitting her between herself and Furiosa. She smiles and fixes Sunshine’s braids. “He’s claimed her as his. No, not like that. Just… protective. Fatherly?” She tries the word out and nods, touching the old memory of a weather beaten man with peppery hair and kind eyes. “He brings her parts from the shop to tinker with. She has her own wrenches already.” The girl leans against her mother and sticks a thumb in her mouth. “All the Boys practically worship her. Our entire army is cowed by this little one. I think we might be in trouble.” She smiles. It’s hard to blame them.

“And you’re adjusting alright?” Furiosa is worried again. She won’t say that she feels guilt that the rooms should have been cleared sooner. That Sunshine should have been found months ago. But none of them thought to look. They couldn’t even find the Servitude that was taking care of the girl.

“Hm. I suppose? A lot has been changing.” She supposes it’s a good thing. She and Nux have not been closer, Sunshine is alive and healthy and hugs her, the Boys seem less suicidal and are more careful.

A frantic knocking at the open Vault door causes her to hoist Sunshine up on her hip. The girl looks up at Bin with a smile and an awkward wave. Bin turns from the small girl to Capable. “I’m sorry Mother Capable, but it’s Nux. He’s collapsed in the Shop.”

Bin leads her down to the Organic Mechanic and to the curtained off area where Nux lay wide-eyed on the cot; he had to be drugged so he would calm down. Is this what he meant, all those days back on the rig when he said that Larry and Barry choked off his windpipe?

The Mechanic puts his hear to Nux’s chest, listening to his labored breathing, then stands to rummage around one of the bins on the shelves behind him. “Those twins are getting bigger, on the inside, closing off his intake.”

“Can you remove them?” She’s sure that it wasn’t possible before due to Joe’s power hungry ways. He wouldn’t allow a mere War Boy a chance at life when he was more useful as a suicide soldier.

“I need a lot more blood than you can spare. And some more of those pain killing plants from Dag.” She catches the Mechanic’s familiarity but files that away for later when she sees the knife and bit of tubing in his hand.

“What are you going to do to him?” Bin gently plucks Sunshine out of her arms and several Boys crowd around the girl and whisk her away. She isn’t worried about her daughter, instead she takes one of Nux’s limp hands, still stained with grease and oil.

“He can’t get enough air right now. Gonna cut him and put this tube lower so he can breathe enough to last ‘till we can cut him open.” Straps are secured around his head and chest. One of the medical Servitudes brings clean water and wipes off enough war paint to reveal an old puckered sort of scar. Capable’s seen it before, but asking Nux about the history of his scars usually came with mixed results. Some of them had such strange stories, battles and wild accidents in the shop. Others he didn’t notice or simply didn’t remember. Though now she realizes that those ones might be from the Organic Mechanic and therefore aren’t worth remembering.

Two Boys, Gor and Tin step up beside her and gently tug her away from Nux, holding her in place with strong arms. She looks up at them with teary eyes. Gor is young but tall, just barely graduated. He’s thin but he looks healthy enough. Tin is a little older, with a small, single lump on the right side of his neck. She watches Tin look on, seeing his fate laid out before him and it pains her even more when the Organic Mechanic makes a hole in Nux’s throat to let him breathe.

Nux may be the first she saves, but he won’t be the last.

It takes less than an hour for the Organic Mechanic to finish, but Nux is bandaged and breathing easily by the end. His eyes are still open, but dull with drugs. She nods at the cursory instructions she’s given and lets Tin and Gor carry Nux up to their rooms. Bin is already sitting on the floor with Sunshine and a couple of pups, entertaining them with string and a hushed story that’s told with hand gestures, tangled shapes in string and touches. She sits on the bed as Bin finishes and lightly butts each of their foreheads with his own, even Sunshine, who gets a little too enthusiastic about it. The pups snicker and take her by the hands, leading her to the pile of small tools and odd mechanical bits that Nux has been hoarding for her.

“Bin? What was that?” She watches the children go off, the pups are twice Sunshine’s age, but they play quietly and with much less violence than she expects.

“A story, Mother Capable. An old story. I don’t tell it as well as some of the Old Ones do, but I didn’t know how else to keep Shiny from crying. Wan and Hog were nearby and they’re the youngest we have. She sits well with them.” Bin grunts as he shifts to his knees, taking a moment before he pulls himself upright.

“What was the story about?” She looks down at Nux’s sleeping form and then back to Bin.

“The first War Boy. It’s good because it teaches the Dark Signs and the Light Signs.” Bin hesitantly looks at the chair beside the bed and she nods, giving him permission to sit there.

He eases his crooked form down, seeming to relish in the softness a moment.

“The what?” Her Boys never cease to surprise her. Just when she thinks she’s figured them out, they turn up with all sorts of surprises.

“The pups live… lived… in the darkest tunnels. The dark signs are ways of communicating to your partner in the dark. Noise can get you killed.” Bin is the most eloquent of the Boys. He’s older than Nux and is free of sickness. Only his crooked spine and awkward gait kept him out of the War Boys. She’s told he’s a Sparker, which doesn’t make much sense because she’s just now learning there’s a difference between a Black Thumb and a Greaser.

“Light signs,” he continues, “are the signs used when it’s too loud to talk. In the Shop or during battle. Nux started Shiny with the dark signs, but she knows some light ones too.”

She looks down at Nux’s sleeping form. The slight whistle from the tube in his throat. She brushes her fingers against his brow. “He’s much more clever than anyone gives him credit for.”

Bin hums under his breath. “Black Thumbs improvise. They keep things running under bad conditions. Greasers fine tune and tinker and aim for performance.” He pauses again, glancing around. His voice is low. “You need to learn what we do, Mother Capable. So that you can use us wisely.”

She nods. “I know. I know you’re a Sparker. What does that mean?” She tries to distract herself from her insecurities with conversation.

“I work with electricity. Wiring up the cars and lights and the Doof Wagon.” His expression is sad and wistful for just a moment. “Coma and I were partners for a while. Until Immortan made him stay up in the top tower.”

The name strikes her as familiar and she frowns sympathetically. “You don’t have a partner now?” She knows enough that pups are brought up in pairs. Nux whispered Slit’s name once or twice in the night when his fever gets high.

“No. Not enough my age.”

She’s about to say something when Nux shifts on the bed and a hand lightly touches her hair. “Nux!” She takes his hand and squeezes it tightly.

Part of her brain registers that Bin takes all three of the children out of the room but she’s mostly focusing on Nux, trying to find the panic of breathlessness in his eyes but only seeing a hazy acceptance. “I was so worried.” She bends down and captures his lips in frantic kisses.

He grunts and his hands weakly push her away. She sniffles and sits beside him instead. “Larry. Barry.” His words are barely whispers paced by careful breaths through the new hole in his neck.

“Yes. They’re blocking your intake. Organic had to cut a new vent.” She tries not to look at the awful tube, focusing on his eyes instead.

He bobs his head slightly. “Shiny?”

“Bin took her with the two youngest pups. She’s safe.”

“Wit-ness?” His head is warm and she realizes she’s not looking at his painted face, he really does look ashen.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I will not. You have to stay. Do you hear me Larry? Barry? You stop this nonsense at once.” She feels stupid, she knows that the tumors aren’t self-aware. But Nux believes it’s their feet kicking at his windpipe and choking him slowly.

Scarred lips turn up in a crooked smile.

“Organic thinks he can help, but he needs a few days. You do this and he can help the others with this sickness. Like Tin.” She knows it will take a lot for him to hold onto life; there has to be more benefits than just to him. She wants him to hold on for her and for Sunshine, but she knows she can’t be that selfish. Nux can help save some of the other Boys.

He nods again and grabs her hand, pressing it to his lips briefly.

“Do you need anything?” She smooths the wrinkles out of the sheet around him.

His fingers tighten slightly around her hand.

“Okay. Just give me a minute, okay?” She reluctantly releases him and changes from her shirt and pants, slipping her boots off. She pulls on the gauzy shift she sleeps in and climbs under the sheet with him, curling around his bony frame. Her fingers walk along his ribs and settle above his heart. “Bin was telling the story of the first War Boy. When you get better, you’ll have to tell it to me. And then we’re going to write down all these classifications you Boys have. You all assume we know what you’re up to al the time.”

A wheezy snort answered her and a quiet reply. “You never ask. Furi-osa knows.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t! How is a Greaser different than a Black Thumb?” She can’t help but raise her voice at his amusement. He’s in pain, drugged and can barely breathe and he’s laughing at her. Is this how he feels when she and her sisters try to explain how things should be.

But maybe they shouldn’t be that way either. She hasn’t made much progress with the Boys, but maybe it’s because she doesn’t understand them. She’s just dismissed all their beliefs as bad because they believed Immortan was a god. He wasn’t a god but that doesn’t mean they need to change completely.

“I want you to teach me those signs of yours. Especially if you’re going to be as talkative as Max.” His breathing is even, steady. As is his heart. He’s already drifted off, but she’s sure he heard her.

She holds him close but doesn’t sleep; she needs to make sure he’s still breathing in the morning.

Chapter Text

Nux

Some days, Nux wishes Slit had jumped onto the war rig with him. He doesn’t tell Capable. He knows she won’t understand. Just like she doesn’t understand why after four whole days of inactivity he asked Furiosa for something to do. Just like she doesn’t understand why he’s so willing to wind a scarf around his neck, hiding his breathing tube in the folds and lining his pockets with knives so he can accompany the Imperator to the negotiations with Gastown.

“Do you have to go? What if a fight breaks out?” Capable fusses behind him, touching his back, running her fingers over his second coat of war paint. She hopes to distract him from his duties, but he needs to be useful. He needs this like he needs air to breathe and he turns away from the mirror and places a pale hand on each of her shoulders.

He breathes steadily, but speaking is more of a challenge now and he can’t just waste words like he used to. It takes too much Time. “Capable.” He looks into her eyes and squeezes her shoulders. “I’ll be fine.”

Nux is a Black Thumb and a Driver; he’s been trained in combat and he can handle some dignitaries and their guards. But he sees her doubt and worry and it bothers him. She thinks he is soft. Fragile. Broken. Something she has to shield from the harsh world outside this soft room and its luxuries.

Slit would have kicked him in the ass for taking so long to get ready for just a guard posting. The first time he had trouble breathing, Slit had just drug him, gasping and sputtering to the Organic Mechanic and gone on with his day. He used to say that it was the best month of his life because his partner let him have peace and quiet.

Capable isn’t really his partner; not in the same sense that Slit was. Sure they share a space and rut and work together, but Capable is a woman and a Mother and a full-life. She will go on long after he burns out. Slit was his partner to die with. They were supposed to run hot and fast and burn their way to Valhalla. To Witness each other’s chrome glory. All Boys had a partner. That’s just the way things are. Even now, Nux and Bin and the other old ones make sure the pups pair off early on. The only ones without partners these days are Nux and Bin, who are just partners by default. It isn’t so bad. Bin likes his time to himself and doesn’t need Nux at his hip all the time, which is good for Nux, since he can spend his days with Capable and Sunshine too.

“Ready to go?” Bin stands at the door, a leather and metal brace allowing him to stand straighter than usual. He has insulating tape covering his hands and wrists and a battery attached to his back connected to a shock stick at his hip. Nux had always been fascinated by the Sparkers, but had no talent for electric currents. He nods at Bin and grabs the heavy wrench that’s longer than Sunshine is tall and slips it into the holster at his hip. Drivers and Black Thumbs aren’t usually given weapons, but he isn’t going to be the one showing up without.

He nods to Bin and presses a kiss to Capable’s cheek, he knows that if he does anything else, she’ll somehow convince him to stay and Bin would let her. He feels assured by Bin’s footsteps behind him as they move down the hallway to the Vault.

“Nux! Bin!” Cheedo skids to a halt and looks up at them with a shy smile. “Sorry, you two need to be down by the car. You’re riding with Furiosa. Toast and the rest of the Boys will be in the new rig.”

He nods, perfectly willing to leave the rig alone. He’s had his fill of big rigs. Now if he can convince Furiosa to let him drive.

“Is that a shock stick?” The Dag coos and reaches for Bin’s weapon before pulling back. “Does it work?”

Nux knows what’s going to happen before it happens and Bin has the stick out and already jabbed in his side before he’s ready. All his muscles tighten for a few seconds and then it’s gone with a stinging, burning sensation. He slips a small wrench into his fist and punches Bin hard between the shoulder blades. 

Bin grunts and turns to him, his face a wicked grin and Nux is already on him, knocking him to the ground. This is what he misses most. He and Slit used to fight all the time; just a fight to get ready for battle. He can hear Bin laughing as he uses his longer reach to wrap around Nux’s arms to trap him. The Dag cackles and shouts helpful words of encouragement to both of them while Cheedo screams at them to stop.

“Enough!” Furiosa’s stern command had Nux on his feet first and pulling Bin up after him. He can see the worried look on Cheedo’s face and the honest curiosity in Dag, but Furiosa seems more amused than irritated. “Take me to my car.”

He’s glad Capable didn’t follow. She’d spread her worry to the others. Wrestling was harmless. It keeps them sharp, attentive, creative and focused. He wonders what sorts of tussles Bin used to have with Coma the Doof Warrior. He assumes they were epic and moves on, taking Furiosa to the car he’d engineered for her. 

It was the opposite of the Gigahorse, which was tall and wide with much too space and Immortan Joe’s need to be higher than everyone else. This beast is small but fast, maneuverable and vicious with spikes and plating in all the right places. There’s room enough inside for a couple of passengers and on top for lancers or in this case, a Shocker and a spare Driver. 

He watches Furiosa’s face soften slightly at the sight of the door panel salvaged off the old rig. The panel with the skeleton arm mounted right under the driver’s door. “She’s a good car. Did you name her yet?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Waited for you.” 

She nods and gets in. “I’ll name her after I drive her. You boys riding up top?”

Nux and Bin both leap up on top of the reinforced roof and hold tight as the Imperator speeds off ahead of the convoy to Gastown.

During the ride, Bin looks over and shouts to him. Idle conversation to pass the time. “What’s it like to rut a woman?”

Bin is the first to ask him, others too afraid or in denial that a Boy can aim so high. He tips one shoulder up in a half-shrug. “Soft. In a nice way.” He has to strain against the wind and engine, but his words are heard and he feels normal again. “What about Coma?” He remembers the musician’s blind eyes and razor sharp teeth.

He hears Bin’s laughter first. “Sharp teeth but skilled fingers.” He grins and releases hold with one hand to lay a few fingers on Bin’s arm. It isn’t an apology and it isn’t sympathy but he takes it with a nod and a stoic look forward. Losing a partner is usually one way for a Boy to take a Witnessed walk off the tower. 

The rest of the ride is quiet, though they did spend some time just feeling the rush of the wind as Furiosa took her new car through its paces. Nux is almost bored when they reach the reinforced gates of Gastown, the tall spikes ablaze to ward off raiders. Furiosa slows the car to a stop and Nux nods to Bin.

“Imperator Furiosa from The Citadel to see the current leader of Gastown for a peaceful negotiation!” Bin’s voice echoes all around before the gates open to let out a heavily plated car and several armed men. 

Nux jumps down, as does Bin and they flank Furiosa as she strides forward to meet whoever is in charge of Gastown. He can hear the younger Boys quietly shuffling around the rig, preparing for an attack with a restless energy.

“I am the Garbage Man, the new leader of Gastown. We had an election. It was unanimous.” The man was tall, lean and wearing a long leather coat. His skin is dark and his hair was short and spiked up like a buzzard car.

“I am willing to keep up the trade negotiations between our settlements. Water and Mother’s Milk for Guzzoline.” Furiosa stands straight. Nux sizes up Garbage Man’s men. 

Toast jumps off the rig to run at Garbage Man. All the weapons on the area are at the ready, but Toast jumps and it is all that Nux can do to get his hands up to signal his men. Garbage Man catches her easily and swings her around. “Brother!” She cries, clutching at his leather coat and laughs. The tension evaporates and Nux relaxes.

“Imperator Furiosa,” Garbage Man says, letting his sister down to the ground. Toast smiles and threads her fingers through his gloved hand. “I am deeply grateful that you rescued my baby sister from the hands of Immortan Joe. Come inside and let us discuss this deal.”

Bin and Nux are left outside the negotiation shack, staring down the Garbage Man’s bodyguards. Overall it was boring duty. Gastown had always bent under the need for clean water. The Bullet Farm would be worse, they’d lost their leader but they hadn’t lost nearly as many men as Gastown.

Just when things were starting to get dull, yellow flares lit the sky in the distance. Nux’s heart leaps as he all but runs to the car and waits for a second set of flares. Red. He sucks air into his lungs and calls out. “FURIOSA!” 

Bin scrambles to round up the Boys on the rig. The Imperator follows Nux’s outstretched finger and sees the flares. “You drive.” 

Things move quickly, Nux is behind the wheel, Bin safely clinging to the top and Furiosa beside him, loading several guns. The war rig, empty of water and milk speeds along beside them, Boys crawling over its surface like maggots on a corpse. Nux bangs three times on the roof of the car. Bin answers with two. He sets his jaw and kicks in the nitro, throwing them far ahead of the rig. He doesn’t think of anything except getting back to Capable before anything bad happens. 

The ground around the Citadel is swarming with bikers and buzzards. Bin cackles from his perch and swings his shock stick out to take down one of the bikers. The car jerks as the man goes under the wheels and Nux feels alive again. “Lovely Day!” He grins and just drives. This is what he was made for. 

Luckily the towers’ defenses had not yet been breached. When the war rig arrived with the eldest Boys, the raiders started to scatter. It wasn’t until an ugly looking Interceptor crested the hill that the last of them were being run off. Nux takes the car directly into the garage and starts repairs while Bin patches up his cuts and scrapes with a kit on the wall. Furiosa gets out of the car. “Good work.” She nods at them and waits by the door. 

Nux stops his repairs when he hears the car. It sounds awful! He jumps up to let Bin take over and rushes to the Interceptor, yanking the hood open as soon as it rolls to a halt. A hand clamps down on his wrist and he looks up at his old Blood Bag. “Careful with my car.”

Nux pulls his hand back. “You’re the one treating her badly.” He surveyed the poor engine and tended to her, only vaguely aware that Furiosa and the Blood Bag Max are staring at each other.

Chapter Text

Capable

She tries to focus on her task at hand, but she can’t seem to get the numbers right. She makes Corpus stop again while she tries again. She forgot to “carry” again and curses under her breath for her slowness. She wishes Nux were here, or even one of the pups, to tally the figures. The Boys learn numbers young. They need to for distance and speed and shop inventory and the strange barter system they have. She can read and write, but figures and maths are beyond her.

“Capable!” Corpus snaps in his whiny voice. He’s been overly helpful since Furiosa and the Mothers took over. He doesn’t want to get thrown over the side of the cliff so he makes sure they are not overtaxing the aquafir or the garden or the dry rations raided or traded from the other settlements. “Do I have to wait for Toast to return from Gastown?” He’s glaring at her with his beady eyes and she feels like A Thing again.

“No. I’ve got it, I just wanted to make sure. So we have enough water for the planning of one communal field Down Below. If it yields its fullest, we can feed everyone during the storm season.” She looks back at him, waiting for the nod that means he is satisfied.

Instead of continuing, he keeps staring. She wants to upend his chair and spill him to the floor. “How is your family doing?”

His question puts her on guard. Corpus is cruel but crafty. He knows how politics work and has some support still in the Citadel. “Sunshine is fine. Healthy and beautiful.”

“I’m almost afraid of what your next sprog will look like. Probably lumpy as that War Boy that bumbled his way into your escape.”

“I think we’re done now, Corpus. I need to get back to Furiosa,” she stands to go, trying to tame her temper. She will not lose her cool in front of this smeg. He is nothing. No one. He is only around because Furiosa does not want to waste his knowledge.

“Or hasn’t he figured out that he can stick his lance into a breeder yet?” Corpus’s tone taunts her, demeans Nux and his intelligence.

“He’s figured quite a few things out. Some of them that Immortan hadn’t quite figured out.” She likes the way he takes that news, that his father was no good when a simple War Boy could.

“Black thumbs are quite clever. Will you choose another when this one burns out?”

The words hurt her, as he intended them. He has his spies everywhere and he knows that Nux is getting cut on by the Organic Mechanic today. “We’re done.” She stands and heads out the door, past the Boys that guard Corpus’s rooms.

“Taking the lumps won’t cure him! You’re just postponing the inevitable!” He calls out after her, silenced only by the slam of the heavy door.

She isn’t supposed to be down there, but her feet take her to the Organic Mechanic’s shop, standing outside the curtained off operating area. She can hear the disgusting man mutter, and two voices speak back. The Dag is with him, assisting with the concoctions she’s put together from some of the plants she’s been growing. The other voice is the old doctor from Gastown; retired due to the arthritis turning his hand to knots. But the man knows enough about lumps like Larry and Barry to help. Toast sent him and several hundred gallons of Guzzoline to trade for what they had in Mother’s Milk and water.

The hand on her shoulder startles her. Max, keeping her from stepping through the curtain to check and see how it’s doing. “Let them work.”

She lets Max drag her out of the room and to the stone terrace, an old lookout post that’s been unused since they returned. The stone bench is worn and weathered and she sits there listening to Max’s silence. “This won’t fix him, will it?”

“It’ll fix him for now.”  Max sits, but he sits as far away from her as he can on the bench. “Hm. He’s been sick too long.”

“We’re trying our best to make sure the pups stay healthy. Clean water into the bunks and that filthy slurry pit is gone and all the bodies have been cleared out…” She stops and looks at him and shakes her head. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” She sighs. “But none of that will help the ones that are already sick.”

“Barely able to stand when he chased after you. Had to fight to drive his car.” Max is watching the wasteland.

“I didn’t know that. He just said he was getting a… fill-up.” She thinks about how the chase would have gone if Nux hadn’t made it on the rig or if one of the other kami-crazy Boys had made it instead. She shudders. Nux saved them all. He shouldn’t have to have parts of him cut out to breathe properly.

Max reaches out, gently pats Capable on the shoulder. His reassurance doesn’t stop her tears, but she doesn’t feel so alone out here while Nux is under the knife.

Nux

The world comes back slowly in patches. His eyes are too heavy to open, but he hears Capable’s voice. He can’t make out her words, but her presence is reassuring. He lets her lull him back to the blackness.

When he finally drags his eyes open, he is in the bed he shares with Capable. There’s a heavy weight on his stomach. He opens his mouth and it sticks together, feel like it did when his lips were sewn together. Before he became an official War Boy. He grunts and tries to sit up but the wave of dizziness makes him squeeze his eyes closed.

“Nux?” Capable’s hands are on his face, her cold hands, sapping the heat from his skin. He’s burning hot again. He can feel the damp sheets underneath him. He’s leaking out water from his skin and he can almost feel Time slipping away from him.

A wet cloth is pressed to his face. A straw is placed between his lips. He drinks greedily until he almost chokes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He opens his eyes as Capable props his head up with pillows.

The weight on his stomach is Sunshine, curled up and watching him with bright green eyes. She sucks on her thumb and sits, watching him intently. His hands feel like lead, but he holds them out to the child, who flings herself against his chest so hard, he looses his breath and the world goes dark.

“Nux?”

His breath comes slowly and he can feel the soreness in his neck and throat and shoulder. “Still here.” His voice scratches out of his throat and sounds strange to his ears.

“You’re still running a fever.” The bed dips as Capable settles beside him. “Larry and Barry are gone.”

He took a slow, deep breath, processing it. Larry came first, soon as he was big enough for a real scrap run. Barry came several moons later and they’ve been with him ever since. It still feels like they’re chewing on his windpipe, blocking his intake, kicking him while he’s sleeping, but he takes his hand off of Sunshine’s back and feels the bandages that wrap around his shoulder, the flat spot where they were. They’re gone and he is alone.

He’s sure Larry and Barry have brothers. There’s one on his leg, but it’s still small and isn’t blocking vital functions like breathing. He can breathe now and Capable tells him he has time, but he knows she’s not talking about the same sort of Time.

A week passes and he manages to get himself back to the Shop, working on his car and others, showing the youngest of the pups how to scrape parts together to make a whole engine. Bin is there to watch him, and together they work silently on the new war rig.

Things are normal and fine until he’s confronted by his old Blood Bag. Max. Max pulls him aside and looks at him. He pats him on the shoulder and leads him to the car. It can’t rightly be called a car anymore, it needs so much done to it. But he’s brought back as much as he can and Nux gathers his best Boys to find the right parts. He pops the hood and glories over the engine. “The last of the V8 Interceptors.” He mumbles to no one and sets to work. Max’s impatient pacing doesn’t even bother him. He is breathing. His hands are covered in grease and oil. He is alive.

When the engine finally turns over, he lets out a whoop so loud it hurts his throat, but it is good. He looks over at Max and smiles. “Are you leaving again?”

Max shakes his head. “Hm. Not yet.”

“Furiosa will be happy.” Nux talks to fill the spaces that Max leaves. “She kept lookouts for you.”

“Hm. Did she?” He sounds curious and a little wary.

“Yeah. She did. She did.” He nods. “Capable thinks she likes you. Likes you in the way that means something different.” He’s learned, living with women now, that words don’t always mean what they used to. They shift and he gets confused because he can’t quite catch the meaning. It pours through his fingers like sand.

Max doesn’t speak, he takes the keys from Nux’s hand and gets behind the wheel of the Interceptor. “Gonna go for a drive.”

He waves as Max pulls out of the shop and doesn’t think about him again until dinner with the other women, the Mothers and Furiosa. Someone passes him a bowl of green things, which Capable makes him put on his plate. Dinners are like this, full of talking and sharing and green things, with a little meat and grains and whatever else Dag pulls out of the gardens.

“Where’s Max?” Toast asks and all eyes drift to the extra chair at the table.

“I fixed his car today. He went for a drive.” Nux keeps eating because he likes eating now, the lack of pain in his belly is not a bad thing, he’s learned. Capable has drilled this into him over the past few months.

“He left! Nux, why did you let him leave?” Cheedo cries out, and Nux doesn’t know what to do.

“Was I not supposed to? He said he was staying. I told him we had lookouts and that Furiosa would be happy that he stayed. Then he went for a drive. He’ll be back.” He’s sure of it, but the looks around the table at unhappy women and he knows he messed up somehow. He stands up quickly. “I’ll go find him.”

“Nux, no. No, don’t. You’re right. He will be back.” Furiosa’s words, but Capable’s hand is on his arm, pulling him back down into the seat. He drops his head and finishes eating.

Afterwards, in his and Capable’s rooms, he lays down on their bed, his eyes heavy. He’s worked hard today, harder than he should, but it feels good. To be useful again.

“Nux?”

He fights the sleep that threatens him and drags his eyes back open. “Yeah?”

“How are you feeling?” He sees her worried eyes, her nervousness.

He has to think about it, he could be better, but he isn’t struggling to breathe and he can run longer than he has been. “I feel just chrome.” He is full and warm and Capable is close to him.

“Are you sure?”

He forces himself to sit up, ignoring his protesting shoulder. Larry and Barry chewed up a lot of meat there and it is still tender. “Yeah, why?”

“You were very sick and… I… I worry.” She lets him lay back down and he wraps his arms around her.

“I know. But I’m better than I’ve ever been. Probably the best I’m going to get.” He knows there’s no way she can give him a full life. She can’t do it, even though she is capable of anything.

“I just don’t want to be alone.” She whispers into his ear. 

“You won’t be. You’ve got Sunshine and the other women and Furiosa and Max… he’s coming back… and the Boys.” He kisses the top of her head. “Never alone.”

Chapter Text

Nux

Three days after Max left, Nux slips out of bed before dawn and loads up his car. Bin jumps in the passenger seat, a set of shock sticks ready. He leaves the eldest Boy in charge of the shop and they pull out without a word. Once they clear Citadel territory, Bin pulls a plastic rectangle out of his pocket and shoves it in the slot in the dash of Nux’s car. Bin’s grin means he’s been busy. He flips a switch on the dash and the air splits with the screech of a guitar.

“Bin! That’s brilliant!” He’s heard of recording tape but never realized that Coma had a recording machine. Nux shifts gears and lets out a yell and floors the pedal, feeling the driving notes shake his insides.

Bin grins wide and stands up to pull himself out of the car and onto the roof.

“What a LOVELY DAY!” Nux feels so alive right now, the wind in his face and the open road with a partner to keep lookout.

After a few hours into their patrol, Bin shouts, kicking Nux’s shoulder through the skylight. “Kill the tunes!”

Nux silenced the Doof’s music and turns the car to the direction Bin leads him. They see the Interceptor up ahead and Nux accelerates and executes a spin into reverse so easily that Max can’t hide his surprised expression. Bin is quick to toss a smoke grenade in the back of the Interceptor and Nux slows the car down beside his prey.

Max stumbles out of his car, coughing and hacking from the smoke. Bin jumps down, shock stick in hand and a quick jab puts the feral man out.

Nux jumps out of his car with a set of shackles and makes quick work of trussing Max up. “Sorry, sorry, sorry but I can’t have you hittin’ me while I’m driving.”

Bin gets in Nux’s car and starts the music again, cranking it up loud as he drives back to the Citadel. Bin isn’t needed right now, Nux has this handled. Max gets thrown in the passenger seat, secured in so he doesn’t struggle much.

He starts up the car and hums happily when he hears the purr of the engine and the wheel in his hands. It isn’t his wheel but it’s nice. Nice to drive a Good Car. Max isn’t a very good black thumb, but Nux is sure he’s worked out the kinks.

A muffled shout and a rattle of chains tells Nux that he’s out of driving time. He stops the car and reaches underneath the dash to pull some wires. Just in case. “Max.”

The chains rattle, but pale eyes focus on the War Boy. “Nux? Why?” 

“You left without saying goodbye. And Everyone is upset. So I decided to bring you back so you can do it again. Properly.” Because if Max tells them he’s leaving, they’ll know he doesn’t hate them.

“Hm. No.” He doesn’t have any warning when the chain flings out towards his face. He catches it in the chin, but he gets his leg up and pins Max to the seat with a foot on his chest.

“It’ll be good for you, you feral! What’re you scared of? You shouldn’t be scared of nothing! Look what you did on the Fury Road!” He leans over the gearshift, pressing more of his weight against the road warrior’s chest.

“Not afraid.” Max growls and struggles, but Nux can breathe and he’s never felt so good in his life. Max has the weight advantage, but the War Boy has the leverage and a better reach and more experience grappling inside small, enclosed places.

“Why’d you leave then? Give me a good reason why you won’t go back and I’ll walk back by myself.” It’s an old game. A game between Boys. When one of them does something questionable, it must be pointed out. If there’s a good excuse, well, it’s forgiven. But he can’t brush off Dag’s angry curses or Cheedo’s soft sighs or Toast’s quiet wall-punching or even Capable’s glances out the windows. Furiosa is the worst, taking offense at each small thing, making it difficult to keep up with the demand for more functioning vehicles and a functioning rig. The Boys were on the verge of a revolt so Nux deided to take matters in his own hands. He looks Max right in the eyes, waiting for him to speak.

“Got attached.” Max rattles the chains again and he eases up the pressure on the feral man’s chest.

“Not such a bad thing, you know. Being all… attached.” Nux puts one hand on the wheel of the car and leans back against the driver’s side door. “Immortan didn’t like it but… it’s not so bad. Makes Time go by… better. Not faster but… better.”

“Attachment. Hm. People I get attached to die.” The half-hearted rattle of chains show that Max is still fighting back. He’s not given up though.

Nux throws his head back and laughs, adjusting his position so that he’s no longer pinning Max to the seat. Now he’s got his feet braced against the passenger door, legs draped across the feral’s lap. “I’m dying. Could go soon. Could last a while longer. But it’s coming. I can feel it.” He reaches up to touch the scars where Larry and Barry used to be.

“Hm. Different.” Max glares at him, but doesn’t attack.

“How’s it different? You’ve got a full-life.” His tone is more accusing than he means, but he needs to make his point. He needs Max to willingly come back. If he brings him in chains, everyone will be even more upset and he’s done with these strange silent-angry mornings and evenings.

Max’s silence stretches out further and Nux gets bored. “One. Reason. Doesn’t even have to be a good one!” Nux withdraws his legs, settling back in the driver’s seat, placing both hands on the wheel.

He can’t take it anymore, he fixes the wires under the dash and starts up the car, earning himself another glare from Max. “Don’t drive my car!”

“Give me a reason to.” Nux grips the wheels and executes some beautiful turns. It’s not his car, or even the Deuce Coupe he used to drive, but it still makes his blood sing. 

Max’s chains rattle and he grabs at Nux’s arms trying to deter the War Boy. Nux will not be deterred, nor will he be removed from a driver’s seat. Max will have to try harder.

“Hm. Had a wife.”

Nux slows the car, waiting for more, since it doesn’t make sense. He can’t imagine Max taking a woman, though maybe he had been different before he was mad. “Go on.”

“Consensual wife. Was killed. So was our sprog. My fault. Shouldn’t get attached.” He shakes his head and the chains rattle again, but Nux won’t stop the car.

“Everyone dies. Can’t use that as an excuse. You told me you weren’t leaving yet. Then you’re gone.” He speeds up again, his eyes on Max as he keeps the car on course towards the Citadel.

“Hm. Why are you out here?” 

Nux looks back at the wasteland ahead of him. “Couldn’t take the silence. The… women. They should just fight and spit and curse and get it over with. They’re mad about you leaving. But they won’t say it, they just make everyone and each other crazy! So I got Bin and we came out looking.”

“They’ll get over it.” Max looks out the window too and slumps in the seat with a huff.

“The Boys are about to revolt is what it is. Bringing you back so they’ll stop it.” He grips the wheel tightly. This whole business has him stressed out. He’s so far behind on the new war rig. They need to make a run to Gastown soon or else Toast won’t be able to hold off their raiding party. 

“That’s not how it works, Nux.” 

“Don’t care. Even if they rip you apart, then they’ll be normal again. Boys won’t riot if you get killed.” He knows they won’t kill Max. They might maim him some, but no one will die. “You tell Furiosa about your wife. Then you tell her that’s why you left. She’ll tell the others and they’ll stop.”

“Hm.”

Nux floors it and the Citadel’s towers come into view. He wants this to be over. He reaches over and slips a key into Max’s hands and the feral man makes quick work of his chains.    Nux stops the car once they get into the shop bay. “You’re out of guzzoline anyway.” He says happily and gets out of the Interceptor to see that Bin has already summoned Furiosa to look at the new war rig. 

Nux all but pulls Max out of the car and laughs. “Furiosa! Look who came back!”

He pretends to ignore the look Max gives him as the Imperator turns around.

Furiosa puts her flesh hand on her hip and looks Max up and down. “You good?”

Max nods, his head bobbing up and down once before he turns and his fist catches Nux in the jaw. Nux laughs and jumps up, kicking out at Max’s good knee. Max goes down, but pulls the War Boy down with him.

Nux loves a good tussle and Max has different moves than most War Boys. He doesn’t care his nose is bloody and his jaw hurts. He takes a deep breath and can still breathe. Nothing broken. He lets Max pin him though, an apology for the shock stick and the shackles.

“Are you done?” Furiosa’s voice carries over the noise of the shop and the onlookers and Bin’s deep laughter.

Max lurches to his feet, then gives Nux a hand up. Furiosa smiles slightly and Nux is sure that everything will be okay now. He trots off to find something to do until supper time.

When he gets to his and Capable’s room he is ready to wash off the day’s grease and grime and paint off. He’s expected at supper soon, the common meal which is hopefully pleasant now that Max is here. He pulls on a clean pair of pants (having two pairs is still such a novelty!) and a shirt (because now there are shirt rules too!) and walks the short corridor to the Vault. He sits down between Dag and Sunshine at the table and eats, enjoying the light conversation.

“Where did he go, do you think?” Cheedo whispers to Toast, but they can all hear her.

“That’s not the right question. The question is where are they now? Furiosa’s never late.” Dag smiles and feeds baby Angharad.

“I saw them near the storage room,” Capable pipes up. “You all might owe me.”

Betting is one of the few practices that the Mothers have adopted from down below. Betting and trading, though they haven’t settled on any kind of currency. There’s a vague system of “owing” but nobody ever comes to collect. Not like how the parts trade in the Shop works. He’d rather they just pass bolts and wires like Boys do, but they have no use for them up here.

Furiosa enters the Vault with Max in tow and they both look the same. Normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. The meal resumes and everyone is talking and laughing and happy.

“Nux.” Furiosa says his name so hard, he snaps his head up to the Imperator.

“Yes?” He feels the sudden quiet and wonders if he’s in trouble. Why is he in trouble now?

“You went after Max with chains?” He can’t tell if she’s angry. She’s not smiling but she doesn’t move to hit him either. 

“He wasn’t cooperating. He would have hit me while I drove.” He hunches down, scoots his chair out from the table a little bit.

“Hm. Wouldn’t have hit you very hard.” Max’s mouth twitches up at the corner. Slightly. 

“Shouldn’t have left then. Attachment isn’t bad.” He looks over at Sunshine and Capable and smiles at them.

But no one else is smiling. Everyone is looking at Max expectantly.

Max’s fist flies out and connect with Nux’s jaw again. “Wha!? What’d I do?”

Later, in their room, Capable cradles his bruised head. “You shouldn’t tell people about other people’s feelings. It isn’t any of your business.”

“But… but… the women talk about it all the time!” He whines. He knows he’s whining but he can’t figure this out. Will never figure this out. 

“That’s different.”

He opens his mouth, then shuts it and chalks this as another reason why War Boys were kept away from women. Too complicated for the masses. That must be it.

But his mission is over and now he can finally sleep.

Chapter Text

Nux

He falls into the bed as soon as he washes up after being in the shop all day. He already knows it’s going to be a bad night, so he does his best to try to fall asleep before Capable and Sunshine come back from the gardens. He’s not hungry, his stomach is already threatening to turn on him so he’s sure that attempting dinner would be a bad idea. Besides, he’s sure that Capable feeds him too much anyway. He’s never eaten this much in his entire life.

He curls up on his side and pulls the sheets up over his shoulders. He’s running hot already but his body won’t stop shaking. At least he can breathe. Glory, that makes it so much easier! He can breathe because Larry and Barry are gone. While he’s sad his mates had to go, he doesn’t miss their teeth on his intake.

The mattress shifts when he’s halfway between wakefulness and sleep and he can feel Capable’s cool hand brush against his forehead. He rolls towards her and drags his eyes open. “Hey.”

She has that worried and concerned look on her face. The one were her eyes are wet. “Do you need anything?” She takes his hand and laces their fingers together. Not quite a a V8 but nicer somehow.

He shakes his head, his throat dry. He moves over and gently tugs her arm. She nods and climbs in bed with him, wrapping him in the soft linens and hugging him to her chest. He closes his eyes, listening to her breathing when he feels wetness on his face. He peels his eyes open. “What’s… what’s wrong?”

“I just thought… that with Larry and Barry gone... I hoped…” She closes her eyes and holds him tighter.

He knew this would happen. Hope was dangerous. The Organic Mechanic gave Capable hope, some small bits of it that she pieced together to believe that he was whole now. “No. No.” He turns in her arms and pulls her against him. Sitting up hurts too much, but laying side by side, he can press his forehead against hers. “Larry and Barry needed to go so I can breathe. But it wasn’t them making me sick. They were just… the noise my engine’s making… letting me know there’s something wrong. Not the cause.”

He can’t take Capable’s look anymore, so he shoves himself upright. And he breathes! And then he lurches to his feet with as much surety as he can muster. His body is jerked back as his feet start walking and Capable holds his arm still, he smiles. It’s okay. He smiles again and tugs his arm back. He waits for her to walk around the bed and tugs her across the space, away from the sleeping child that’s claimed part of him with her tiny fingers and bright eyes. He knows he needs to tell her.

He has to lean against the shelves here, he can breathe, he can’t tell her how much easier it is to breathe, but she’s shoving the greens in his face. Greens that make him want to gag and vomit, but he’ll choke them down. Choke them down again for her. She hands him a glass of water and he drinks. She waits and he drinks.

And now that he’s upright and full of water and weeds, he needs to piss. His body is gross and terrible and he tries to say this to Capable, but all that comes out is a rusty sort of grunt as he hurries to the latrine to relieve himself. He entertains the idea that she’ll finally realize that he is too old, too rusted and too burnt-out for her and she’ll go. Leave him behind to find someone else with a full-life or at least some more half-life than he does.

“Nux? Are you okay in there?”

“’M fine.” He washes his hands in the basin because of her intolerance of dirt. He breathes again and steps out, colliding with her as they both try to occupy the same space. “Capable…”

Her arms wrap around him tightly. She’s crushing him, pulling him down. Her face is making his shoulder wet.

“Capable?” He seems to have forgotten how to say anything but her name. She’s squeezing him too hard. Uncomfortable. But he can’t seem to get any leverage with his shaking arms.

She sniffles and breathes and he breathes and she finally lets him go. He straightens, stretching slightly as he does. She blinks up at him and wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I just… I’m such a mess.”

“No,” he shakes his head, placing his hands on her shoulders. “No. You’re not a mess.”

“I am. I’m… I’m just… Nux.” She guides him to the chair, the large plush thing that she spent days beating the dust out of and he sits. “I’m sorry. I know there’s… that we don’t have time. It’s hard. For me. Because I just want this forever.”

Forever is one of those Time words that he has trouble with. Forever. Forever. He has problems with “this” too because “this” is still pain and fever and Capable crying. It must be a full-life thing and not a half-life thing. He knows he’ll never understand. “Capable… what’s wrong? You can tell me. You can tell me anything.”

She climbs in his lap the same way Sunshine does, but Capable fits in a different way. She presses up against him and sighs. She breathes and he breathes. “I’m pregnant.” She closes her eyes and bows her head, clinging against him.

Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.

Oh! His fevered brain caught up with him and he stopped breathing until his lungs reminded him how. “I put a sprog in you!” He wraps his arms around her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” He didn’t mean it. He wanted her to be able to choose. He always rut with her whenever she wanted. He was no better than-

“Nux, stop.” Her hand was gripping his wrist, thumb digging into the tendons to loosen the fist that he kept hitting himself in the head with. “Please, stop. Listen.”

He dropped his arm, draping it across her. “I’m sorry.”

Her lips press against his and she smiles. Smiles? “I’m not. I want this one. It will be ours. Yours and mine and made with love.”

“Then… why… why were you crying?” He suspects a trap, one of these word puzzle games that he still hasn’t quite figured out. He feels like he’s entering a dark room full of live boom-sticks. His reaction time is slow already and he doesn’t know if he can handle more of her crying without starting to sob himself.

She sighs and he remembers to breathe. “Because if…” she holds him tighter. “When… you die… I’ll be alone. And… I don’t want Sunshine or… or our sprog to… forget you.”

He rests his hand on the back of her neck, his fingers resting over the old skull brand and he rests his forehead against hers. He’s hot and he’s leaking water out all over, but they both need this right now. “Capable… you’re here to Witness me. They’ll remember through you. And Furiosa. And Max. And Dag and Cheedo and Toast. And Bin and the Boys. Even after I’m gone there will still be stories. And… I think… I think I lived pretty historic up to this point, yeah?”

She smiles a little, her eyes meet his. “Yeah, I think you did. Nux the Denied. That’s a terrible name by the way. It sounds like you did something wrong.”

“I did. I botched up all over the place.” He smiles back at her. “Would do it all over again.”

“Really? You would?” She settles in his lap, her hip digging into his side, but he can’t bring himself to mind.

“Well, maybe I would’ve jammed the fecking throttle and got out of the rig like I was supposed to.” That has them both laughing and Capable kissing him.

“You’re hot and you smell bad. I’m going to start a bath for you.” She kisses his forehead again and slips off his lap, moving to the alcove with the pool that was a mirror image of the one in the Vault. He dozes to the sound of water coming out of the spout, still a strange sound for him.

He wakes to Capable’s hands, helping him up and out of his pants. The water is cool, but not freezing. He feels better, less like a spring coiled too tight and more like a Boy again. His eyes close and he vaguely registers the ripples in the water that man that Capable has slipped in beside him. He feels like he might melt as she scrubs his arms, his chest, his neck, ridding him of the old paint and sanding him down to his skin. She moves back, getting his feet and legs. He doesn’t paint himself there, that’s what pants are for, but he lets her work her way back towards him. Her lips on his and he opens his eyes. “Hey.”

She presses close to him, her chest against his. “Feeling any better?”

He nods, his fingers settling on her hips. “How long until the sprog?” He tries to imagine her with child, round and glowing like the Splendid Angharad.

“Probably about eight months now. Maybe a little less.” She runs her hand down his side; that motion that rips a hum from deep inside him. “What are you thinking?”

“I… I don’t know. I never… you’re the first woman I’ve ever rutted. What if it’s a half-life like me?” If Capable is sad about him now, then what would she do later, once the sprog burns out? He won’t be around to hold her and let her cry.

“No.” She presses closer and shakes her head. “No more half-lives. Our child will be a full-life. And loved. And happy and… Sunshine will be a big sister and look out for him or her.” She kisses him. “They can do whatever they want. They’ll be free.”

“Free.” He rolls the word off his tongue and whispers it back to her, pulling her close and kissed her again. His teeth chatter together and she pulls him out of the bath. He’s so tired he could just sleep right there on the floor, but somehow she drags him to their bed.

The world goes black and he wakes with a different redhead curled up in his arms. He can hear Capable across the room, even though she’s doing her best to be quiet. Sunshine stares up at him with her green eyes.

“Morning!” She touches his forehead and moves her hands. The child leans forward to press her forehead against his and climbs off the bed. He hears her feet run to the other side of the room. Sunshine returns with his paint and fumbles the lid off the tin once she climbs back up on the bed.

He is perfectly able to apply his own paint. He’s been doing it since he was Sunshine’s age. But he likes watching her smile as she smears the white clay over his nose and cheeks. He uses his hands to smooth out the lumps and fill in the missed spots, but he lets Sunshine play.

“Good morning,” Capable presses a hand to his freshly painted forehead. “Back to the shop today?”

He sends Sunshine to wash up with a quick gesture and fixes his paint. “Yeah. Got some ideas on extending the range of the patrol cars.” He puts his paint tin back and takes the black grease to his fingers to rim around his eyes.

“Very handsome.” She takes the grease from him and hands him a rag to wipe off his fingers.

He whines a little. “I’m not handsome. I’m terrifying.” He grins, the scars on his lips stretching a little.

“Fine. Please remember to eat something before you get to the shop.” She hands him his second pair of pants. She’s probably deemed his first pair is dirty again.

“I will. I will. Hey um…” He runs his hand over his bald head. “Can I tell the other Boys… about the sprog?”

She nods. “I think it’s safe to.”

He kisses her quickly and runs out of the room. He intercepts Bin on his way to the shop. “Bin! Bin! I put a sprog in Capable!”

Chapter Text

She watches the War Boy with fear. Fear first, always, because these creatures were not to be trusted. They bring pain and death and sing praises to the dark god Immortan Joe. This War Boy, this weapon that runs on chrome and devotes himself to the V8 nearly killed Furiosa. They threw him off the rig, but here he is again, riding in the cabin with them, with Capable practically sitting on his lap. Her sister has never taken to anyone like she has to this War Boy. Capable sits on him as if she’s unaware that he can just go off at any minute. Explode in violence and lust, dispensing death to all those within reaching range.

This War Boy who tried to strangle Furiosa and was tossed from the rig like a corpse to the Wretched. But Capable saved him. Capable saves him still. Cheedo doesn’t discount that War Boy’s helpfulness, but she’s not as naive as she looks. She’s the youngest of the Wives, but she’s seen a great many things before being pulled into Joe’s harem. Gastown is not a place of fairytales and wonder. There’s a reason why they call their leader “The People Eater”. Capable sleeps on a warhead about to go off. The man in the cabin even more dangerous than the feral man driving the rig.

Cheedo can’t sleep, no matter how many times Toast grumbles at her or Dag pets her head. Capable is still cuddled up against the War Boy’s pale chest. Can’t she see the sickness? Feel the violence? Death waits just behind the boy’s shoulder; marked by the lumps and the quiet wheeze in his breath. He burns hot. A sign he won’t last much longer. Cheedo knows, three of her siblings were the same way. She wants to warn her sister. Tell her not to grow attached. In a sick parody of Joe’s words, she knows her sister will resent the boy for dying.

She watches her sister still that evening at the Vulvalini camp, huddled aside with the War Boy and a shawl draped across her shoulders. As if the patterned fabric will keep the man from tearing at her flimsy clothes. He speaks to her in low tones and flailing fingers, probably spinning a tale of death. His own part in the killing of the world. But Capable smiles, smiles like a lunatic, a brain-fried fool at this War Boy. The older women don’t trust him and Cheedo feels vindicated.

When the sky is dark and the fires start smoldering, Cheedo pulls her sister away from the boy. She sees him taken by the hard-faced Vulvalini woman. Good. No interruptions. “Capable, he’s dangerous. He is not a wounded lizard to take care of.”

“I know he isn’t, but he’s like us. He just wants to be free.” Capable crosses her arms, preparing for a fight.

Cheedo can’t dominate like Toast or sooth like Angharad but she tries her own way. “He doesn’t even know what that is. He’s probably never been somewhere else. Joe’s Way is the only Way he knows. You can’t change the scales on a snake, Capable.”

“Maybe not, but I can help him molt off the old ones. He was abandoned and cast out. He just wants to help us now.” She counters, watching the boy get examined by the oldest woman.

“He’ll only help us so long as he gets what he wants from us.” She grabs her sister’s hands to make her understand how important these words are.

“And what do you think he wants from us? Sex? He’s not like that!” Capable’s voice pitches up and carries, but the women pretend not to notice. The War Boy’s shoulders hunch over and the Feral Man frown.

“Death.” Cheedo is sure that the War Boy’s skeletal appearance is all the omen she needs. “He is death.”

Cheedo hates herself. She hates that she was right. Hates that the War Boy, Nux, actually became human in her mind sometime between the night at the Vulvalini camp and when the Gigahorse came info view. The fact that he not only kept the rig going, but wordlessly took over driving from Furiosa. The only person that expected him to actually keep his word was Capable.

She could ear it in the way his breath hitched. The pleading in his eyes. She watched it in the tilt of his head as he urged Capable across the hood of the rig to the back of the Gigahorse. Her brown eyes met his blues and she knew his intentions. Death.

She clings to Capable tightly, willing her sister to stay put and not fall off the back of the flagship of Joe’s fleet. They both start at the sight of Rictus roaring up, threatening Nux as he brakes hard.

War Boys know cars. They know how to crash. They know how to kill and die. The wheel jerks to the right and she feels her sister shudder against her. Death.

When she hears the news that Capable is pregnant, she sighs and quickly musters a smile. The first chance she gets, she slips away and looks for Nux. She finds him sitting on a bench in the infirmary, hooked up to a translucent bag of blood hung on a hook on the wall. He’s slumped over, his chin against his chest and the only way he looks alive is by the slow breaths he’s taking.

“Nux.” She says his name quietly, not wanting to jolt him awake like she’s seen some of the War Boys do.

His head moves slowly and he blinks up at her. “Cheedo? What… what can I do for you?”

They don’t usually interact. So of course he’s surprised that she’s here, standing over him. “Do you have an estimate?”

She’s been helping enough in the infirmary and with the sick to know there are ways to judge these things. She knows Nux had to have an idea of his timeline before the Fury Road.

“Last estimate I got was long past. It’s just day to day now.”

“And you thought it was okay to get Capable pregnant?” She knows that War Boys don’t know where babies come from. That they’re just like children in their ignorance. But she feels the need to remind him how serious this will get.

“It wasn’t really… I didn’t mean to.” He shrinks a little. “I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t think to ask first?” She glances to the half-empty blood pouch and then to the knot of scars on his arm from various transfusions.

“Capable was always asking to rut. I never said no. I didn’t know it was the same thing as breeding. We were… we were told we couldn’t. I was told I was too sick. Up until I came back. Immortan… he… he made us think we could only rut each other.”

“Nux.” She sighs and hesitantly pats his head. She isn’t sure when he became a part of her family, but he’s lodged in her heart somewhere, between Capable and the long-dead siblings she tries not to think of. She reaches down and feels his forehead, checks his pulse, sees the blood bag is empty and disconnects him from the needle. “Try not to die, alright?”

He laughs a little hoarsely and hauls himself to his feet. “Doing my best, Cheedo.”

“My car. It needs looked at. Could you?” Her car is more of a truck, used to take supplies from the main Citadel towers to various camps of the former Wretched. The transmission slips and if anyone will know how to deal with it, it’s him.

“I’ll get right on it.” He grins and heads down towards the garages.

She knows he is death. But there’s something to be said about the life that comes after. Maybe she’ll have to remind Capable of that later. But for now she has work to do. The world won’t rebuild itself.