Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She didn't know if she would ever trust him.

How she could ever trust anyone in the Citadel, or any of the other wasteland bastions. Not after what she had been through.

Furiosa's mind surged with adrenaline, but it made no difference right now; not sat, as she was, curled into the furthest corner of the war rig's passenger seat as the Praetorian Jack hurtled them down the Fury Road.

She steeled her gaze ahead, but her mind was racing.

He hadn't said anything to her yet, not after telling her to keep the gun. That in itself had wound her up, and she ground her teeth together. What was he gearing for?
When he had turned his back on her and strode over the ridge towards the rig, it had taken her a moment before she beat the hesitation out of herself and slunk after him.

No matter how close her dream of The Green Place had been to fruition, close enough to touch, to taste, to smell the scent of freshly picked peaches, she would not give it up. Even if what this man was saying was a trick, Furiosa was not an idiot.

Walking away from him then would have been a death sentence, left out on the scorched desert with nothing but her own skin and a maimed leg.

She had watched her feet pull her along as if in third person before hauling herself into the cab. A tear pricked at her eye angrily, but Furiosa shook it off, refusing to let that emotion wriggle its way deeper. Her grimy fingernails dug little bloodied moons into her palms as she allowed the emotion to morph into rage. The blinding, all-encompassing fury (grief? No, not grief, she shook her head) she had felt as the motorbike stowed under the rig had been ripped out of her bare hands.

The Praetorian had started the engines as soon as she had shut the passenger door, not sparing her another glance as he ran through the initiation sequence and pulled the rig back up to speed.

It had been a little over 10 minutes sat in the relative silence now. Furiosa pulled one of her knees closer to her chest, lifting her injured leg out of the rig's footwell to bring some relief from the throbbing ache. Chancing a glance towards the driver, she felt her breathing slow.

The Praetorian Jack. She knew him. Well, she had seen him before at least.
When the rig had been finally finished, he had come down to the engine room to inspect it himself. Furiosa had busied herself as she always did, burying herself in the anonymity of menial tasks and keeping her head down to avoid attention. Attention was bad, attention was dangerous, especially for her.

She'd been drawn to look up when the usual hubub of the House of Holy Motors had risen, piquing her interest. For a Praetorian, he was strange.

Quiet for one, yes, but as he had strode over to the rig, his walk was purposeful and strong. His dark marked forehead and slicked back hair were striking as he had sized up the vehicle, running light fingers along the polished metal sides.

He commanded attention to him even in his silence, and when Furiosa first let her eyes glance over him that day she thought he was just like all the other power-hungry Praetorians - his lip curled up in a cruel sneer as he looked in distaste at the maggots he commanded.

War boys and war pups scurried around, vying to serve him, the great 'Prae Jack'.

But now, as her eyes welled to extract some of the hazy dust making its way into the grumbling cab, she realised it wasn't quite that.
His lids were only half held up, the weight of exhaustion clearly present but held back in a way that left no doubt he would get the rig back to the Citadel, no matter what. And his mouth... oh.
A pale scar marred his cheek, stretching down to carve into his upper lip, pulling at it slightly. Not a sneer, then Furiosa mused.

Cautious of being caught looking, she ripped her eyes away from him, dragging them back to the horizon and the tiny black speck of the city coming into vision.

It didn't matter what kind of person he was, she realised. So what if his sneer wasn't a sneer, she didn't trust him further than she could shake a stick. There was no such thing as kindness out here; if it was too good to be true then you'd probably be dead before the day was out.
That was just how things worked. Furiosa had learned that the day her own mother had made the mistake of showing empathy.

Furiosa rapidly span through plans in her head. Judging by their speed, they would be back at the Citadel in less than two hours.

Automatically, her hands folded the weapon clutched in her fingers and span the chamber, spying two bullets left in it. A thin, burned strand of her hair caught on the weapon's edge, and Furiosa went to tuck it into her top by habit before stopping herself sharply.
The gig was up now, and there was no going back to it, to pretending to be a boy. Heat began to flood her chest again as the rage building in her threatened to seep through.

She would not go back to that vault.

She seethed, almost feeling her teeth bare themselves at the thought.
She would sooner put a bullet through Immortan Joe and then herself than let anyone in that godforsaken place touch her.

'You won't get that anywhere near him before you're taken down, you know.'

The voice came from the driver, calm and low, only just about loud enough to be heard over the roaring of the engine.

Furiosa startled, his voice dragging her out of her head and thrusting her back into the moment. When she made no response, he cleared his throat and spoke again, but made no attempts to turn and look at her. His eyes remained trained dead ahead.

'You have two bullets. The route to Immortan Joe's council is as long as it is well staffed. The guards will strip you of your weapons before you even step foot on the staircase up.' The words came out of him consistently, like facts laid out easy for anyone to see. Furiosa stiffened, the hairs on her arm bristling, but he continued.

'I am going to ask for you to be stationed on my crew. You shoot well, and now Black Thumb is gone I'll need a replacement for him as well. I'll train you for it, and you'll work with me until you're ready to go.'

This time he did turn and look at Furiosa, his pale eyes catching hers as she turned slightly to face him. He had a strange look, not as maddened as the war boys she had been surrounded by daily. He'd also said she would work 'with' him, not for him.

Furiosa wasn't stupid, she knew how the chain of command worked in the Citadel, and this man was a Praetorian. She was a Dogman... if that anymore.

Furiosa looked at him properly this time, trying to pierce through whatever he had going on to the truth underneath. He held her gaze, but the only thing she could see was unwavering dedication. Dedication to what, she wasn't sure. To the Immortan? She didn't know, hadn't studied the Praetorian enough yet to figure it out from his eyes alone... But somehow it didn't seem likely. So, what then?
He broke the eye contact first, as if sensing her stare becoming critical, and turned easily back to the horizon stretching ahead of them.

Furiosa stirred, her voice breaking slightly as she tried to speak at a normal volume, hoarse after years of disuse only to shout at him earlier. The question couldn't be avoided, however.

'What of the vault?'

He didn't respond immediately, but his eyes flickered at her with something like surprise, or maybe recognition, before it was quickly squashed and he squinted slightly in thought. Furiosa felt her stomach crawling, felt the knowing twangs of fear that she had managed to stifle and suffocate enough before grip her now.

'Have you bled?' The Praetorian's question wasn't necessarily unexpected, but Furiosa felt her chest heat in shame nonetheless as his words crossed the cab. She stayed silent, turning back to look angrily at the horizon.

She heard him sigh quietly. It irritated her greatly.

'I'll take that as a yes' he murmured, turning thoughtful. 'It'll be hard to convince Joe to put a full life woman on the war rig'

'How do you know I'm full life?' Furiosa heard herself snap, not intending to speak again but the words ripping from her anyway.

The Praetorian only turned to look at her, slowly raising one of his dark eyebrows as if to say 'Really?'.

His gaze never strayed anywhere other than her eyes before turning back to face the road again, but Furiosa's skin burned.

Hating herself for the feeling, she subtly pulled at her leathers. The rags at her shoulders that had previously covered her form were missing, but worse still was the long rip in the fabric of her neck revealing the smooth, albeit grimy skin of her collarbone underneath.

Before she could wrap herself tighter, he spoke again, a strange lilt to his tone.

'We will say you are barren.' he started, fingers gripping the wheel infinitesimally tighter than a second before. 'That your insides are twisted and no good for his purposes. We will take a trip to the Organic Mechanic before we report to Joe so that his silence can be assured. I will vouch for your skill and the necessity for a strong crew to be selected now that my original are all dead.'

Furiosa tensed, realising her life would be in his hands as soon as they set foot into the citadel. There was no way around it.

'Will it be enough?' Furiosa ground out, leaning forward in her seat slightly to slow the roiling of her stomach.
When the Praetorian didn't respond, she leaned forward properly and twisted her whole body towards him, slamming her fist onto the dashboard with force. Her eyes bored angrily into the side of his face, the question sitting heavily in the air as he remained stoically watching the road, not so much as flinching at her sudden violence.

The fingertips of her other hand dug into the knife that she had taken from him to kill the Mortifier; maybe she would end up taking her chances with the desert in the end anyway.

It might have only been a second, maybe it was minutes, Furiosa couldn't tell with the adrenaline pumping through her veins, but finally, he spoke.

'It will have to be'.

Furiosa slowly withdrew her hand from the dashboard and sat back into her seat, suddenly very weary.

////

The Citadel crept up on them before the sun set, no other trouble having hassled them on the last leg of their journey. The Praetorian had made a few other comments as they drove, filling out their arrival plan, but Furiosa only listened in silence.

As the rig swung with practiced ease onto the lifting platform, it was only then that the Praetorian turned to her again, his eyes having taken on a steely hardness.

'I will do the talking. Stay silent and follow me closely. Do not look at anyone, do not make eye contact unless the Immortan speaks to you directly.'

His words were firm, unyielding. Strong. They spoke to the gravity of their situation that Furiosa was only too aware of.

He didn't look away this time as he had when she had remained silent before, and his eyes felt like they were piercing her. She forced herself to nod once, the subservience of it all grinding at her insides as she tightened her hold of her mute persona.

The Praetorian turned back to the door, but he hesitated momentarily, and it made Furiosa glance towards him, watching the leather on his back ride up slightly.
'What is your name? What do I call you?' he asked, the tone somewhat softer than she had heard him speak up until now.

She didn't know what to do with that, and just stared at him, silent, the whites of her eyes flashing.

He didn't wait long this time before he sighed and turned back to reach the door handle. He spoke quietly, almost as if just to himself. 'Well, seems you won't have any problem with the 'silent' part'.

She clearly hadn't finished stuffing all of herself into her muted persona yet as her mouth opened and the word tumbled out.

'Furiosa'.

He stilled, one hand on the door handle but not having opened it yet.

'Furiosa' he repeated, rolling the name slowly along his tongue.

Goosebumps ran up her arm as her hairs stood on end, not having heard her name spoken aloud in years. She felt her back straighten subconsciously as she let her eyes rake over his darkened form in the shadows of the cab.

'Jack' came his own name, as free as water over stone as he pushed open the door and slipped from the cab. The expectation of her to follow him was left hanging over her.
Steeling her nerves with one sharp intake of breath, she flipped her own door handle and slid to the floor, putting her weight onto her good leg.

The Praetorian, Jack, stood there, having walked around the front of the rig to quietly appraise her. His eye flicked to her wounded ankle as she landed, assessing something in his brain.

Feeling herself bristle, Furiosa took a step forward, ignoring the pain. She would bear it for now, and slink away somewhere quiet and alone to wrap it later. The necessity to prove she wasn't vulnerable and weak was overwhelming, and her eyes drilled into him, goading him to say something.

He said nothing, however, which somehow made Furiosa angrier than if he had.

Before any further silent conversation had a chance to happen between them, war boys started piling into the chamber. They were loud and rowdy, distractedly chatting amongst themselves as they approached the rig to begin unloading the spoils.

Furiosa flinched slightly, suddenly all too aware again of her loose hair, her ripped clothing, her... Herself. Unhidden. Female.
She tensed, straightening up to stare directly at Jack. Only at him. He lifted his eyes and met her gaze, holding it still.

She hadn't made this much eye contact with anyone in a long time. His eyes were green, she realised. She felt her hand slide lower as she gripped her knife tighter.

The war boys chatter suddenly died away, and was replaced by quiet murmurings that began building up again, excited tones overlapping each other.

"Prae Jack, what have you got there?"
"Prae Jack, where did you find it?"
"Is it a girl?"
"Does it have a-"

The crowd cut each other off, drawing closer, the whitened skin of the war boys swirling and gathering in circles around them, pursuing closer like a pack of hungry dogs tightening on a kill. A single arm began to reach out closer to Furiosa, and her fingers slipped deeper into her pocket to secure her grip on the knife, preparing to draw it out, to fight, to shed blood, to ki-

Jack turned sharply towards the offending figure and the arm froze in space.

"Unload the rig." Jack's voice wasn't loud but it boomed across the room, and the command in it was undeniable.

The boys nearest to them scrambled to their feet again and rushed to their stations, eyes darting to Furiosa again but unable to ignore their Praetorian.

Jack continued to bark out commands, pointing out damage on the rig that need to be fixed and instructing the war boys and gearheads, but kept his body planted unmovingly next to her.

One war boy approached him directly to ask a question, stopping a meter away and fiddling with a mechanism in his hands. Although his hands were occupied, Furiosa could feel the war boy's eyes pulling at her skin, and could see in her peripheral vision his jaw hanging open as he finished his question and took the opportunity to gawp at her up close.

She kept her eyes trained on Jack, and because of that it was impossible to miss the way his stance widened, one foot sliding almost imperceptibly in her direction. His body positioned itself slightly more between them, not enough to be obvious but a clear enough sign to the boy in front of them.

The war boy gulped suddenly, his brow furrowing as he dropped his gaze to the floor and threw his hands up in the V8 formation, fingers linked above his head.
Having received his instructions, the boy quickly scurried off to where he had been sent.

Jack looked towards Furiosa once, before issuing her own command.

'Come.'

It was the same tone he had taken with the boys, controlling his authority with precision. Nothing like the way he had spoken in the cab. A display, Furiosa distantly thought.

She didn't need to be told twice. His eyes had looked weary when they had laid on her, and she masked her limp as best she could as she fell in line behind him.

Furiosa had been under no illusions of his rank before now, having seen various Praetorians lording their status and swaggering about, but seeing this man put it to its true purpose was... Something.

No, she didn't trust him. Not one bit. But the illusion of choice was shattered for her - he was the only way forward here, the only sliver of hope to find a way out.

To coast in the wake of his power until the moment he betrayed her, when she would make him beg for mercy at her feet.

Chapter Text

It hadn't been easy. Furiosa's heart felt like it was permanently sequestered in her throat, and with every beat she had choked a little more.

Somehow, the Praetorian Jack had swayed both the Organic Mechanic and the Immortan Joe. She had stayed silent, had followed what he had instructed her to do, and it had worked. She had listened aptly to every word spoken in the chamber at the time, felt them echo in her brain like the tremors before a full on earthquake. But the earthquake never came, and now she found herself trailing behind him again as he led the way down the winding staircases to the lower levels. Her brain felt fuzzy.

Slowly, her memories wound their way back into the rational part of her brain, the part not concerned with an impending knife fight to the death once they condemned her to the vault.

She breathed out. She wasn't going there.

The Immortan had decided to reward his Praetorian by letting him 'keep' her for the war rig. Furiosa had stayed true to her word though and said nothing, clenching her fists discreetly as her life was bandied around like a commodity to be owned.


But one thing Jack had said had in the council room had surprised her. Something that wasn't part of the plan he had ran her through on the way to the citadel.
Now that they were alone again, she brought forth her voice back.

'Your... Apprentice?' Furiosa questioned, her voice coming out gravelly. She tried to keep her tone neutral, but the suspicion in it was clear anyway.

Jack didn't stop waking ahead of her, but slowed down slightly, bringing himself to walk next to her down the staircase instead. Furiosa thought her sense for danger would spike then, but nothing came. She put a little more distance between them anyway.

'It pushed the cause.' Jack said plainly, but Furiosa didn't take it. She could feel something else behind his words, and somehow she knew he could tell she was still waiting.

Furiosa was about to leave him to his silence, still following behind him, when the stairs flattened out and they came to a fork in the path. To the left, Furiosa knew, was the way to the Praetorian's bunk. She'd had enough bruises from being barged into the walls along that stretch to recognise it anywhere. To the right was where the war boys, gearheads, blackthumbs and anyone else with a lesser rank slept.
They hadn't reached the fork yet, but she could see Jack's head tilting left, eyes scouring the route he intended to take.

Furiosa stilled, rippling with anger and she planted her good foot to the ground and stopped in place. So that was his angle.

Jack took another step before he realised Furiosa wasn't walking, and he turned to face her. He stared down at her, their height difference more evident outside of the rig. Furiosa only glared back.

The Praetorian let his eyes lift to the shallow rocky ceiling, and a grimace dusted his lips quick enough that she questioned if she had even seen it. He'd realised her reservations.
He answered her now, but slower this time, as if he were choosing his words carefully.

'It will afford you more... Protections.'

The air around Furiosa was stifling, and it suddenly became too much. The anger spilling out of her as Furiosa growled, ripping his knife from her pocket, having been given it back after leaving the council room. She shoved Jack into the wall hard, hearing him grunt slightly as the rocky surface dug into his shoulders before he could react. Her knees trapped his thighs and her arm braced against his chest, barely spanning the broad width of it.

The blade flicked out, pressing against the soft crease of his throat.

'Liar' Furiosa hissed, pressing the blade harder. Jack tilted his head up instinctively to gain respite from the blade, but just as soon as he had done so he turned his head back down to look at her, letting the blade cut him slightly with his movement. A bead of blood welled before beginning a slow journey down his throat.

He looked at her deeply, his eyes seemingly looking straight through her. Green but also grey, the colour of her home and the colour of ash. Furiosa felt seen, too seen, but she wouldn't look away. She held his gaze, debating her options and letting the trickle of red on his throat momentarily appease her.

He made no move to get out of her hold, but that weary exhaustion was back suddenly, lacing his features and stripping away something from him that Furiosa didn't have a word for yet. For a moment, they just looked at each other, a hair's breadth apart. Furiosa's hair fluttered slightly when Jack's breath came slightly harder, the blade continuing to press into his skin.

He was the first to break their standoff, and gestured vaguely with his free arm, the leather sleeve shifting softly against Furiosa's hip. He spoke quietly, no need to speak louder when her ear was less than a few inches away. This close, she could smell the leather on him, the oil and grease on his forehead and slicking his hair back. Somehow, his skin was cool to the touch.

Furiosa grit her teeth.

Jack's voice reached her slowly, carefully, like he was pacifying a feral cat.

'You saw the scene downstairs. Do you really want to go back to that on your own?'

Furiosa only glared, silently prickling at the thought, but pushed her knee harder into his thigh. She pinned him even closer to the wall and let her weight push her forearm further into him. However, Jack's face still remained passive, somehow still soft despite the pain she was sure he must be in.

He tried again, every movement of his throat as he spoke causing the blade to almost nick him.
'They respect my rank. If they think' Jack paused to emphasise the word, raising an eyebrow at her, 'you are under my protection, they won't try anything. It will be safer if they think you are...'
This time, Jack's pause seemed more to fumble for the right word.
'... Mine.' Jack's eyes flashed with something else this time, but Furiosa didn't expect it to be... Embarrassment? Resignation?

Furiosa shuddered. Even if she somehow didn't sense any predatory instincts from him (wrong, she was just feeling off. That had to be it) the choices she saw ahead disgusted her.

However, any decision she might have made was forced away from her as the heavy thump of approaching boots and the clanging of a Praetorian belt buckle sounded from down the corridor.

Furiosa's eyes darted wildly in the direction of the sound, but the split second she took her eyes off Jack turned out to be her error.

He moved with practiced speed, his hand encircling her wrist and wrenching the blade away from his throat in an instant. Twisting his body with a surprising ease out from under her, Jack's other arm flipped her before his forearm was digging into the hollow of her back, pressing her face first into the wall. Furiosa staggered at his sudden strength, keenly aware that she hadn't been prepared for him to react so quickly. Struggling to regain strength, she kicked out at him behind her, anger rippling at the obvious futility as his thighs trapped her legs in, crowding her against the wall.

Furiosa's hackles went through the roof, turning feral in her actions as she tried to claw at him, panic beginning to set in but every movement causing her to feel his larger body trapping her, caging her in. Pressing his leather-clad form against every inch of her shoulders, her back, her-

"Quiet" Jack snarled into her hair, his lips so close she felt the movement brush against her ear. Furiosa stiffened immediately, stilling herself against all instincts. The only reason it worked was tone of his voice, Furiosa realised. It wasn't the sound of a command, but of a... a plea?

No sooner had she stopped struggling did the distant boots suddenly sound a lot closer, rounding the corner from the Praetorian bunk direction.

Jack didn't move, and didn't let up.

Instead, she felt him stop, before suddenly pulling her closer, his hip pressing into the curve of her behind, and his forearm forcing her back to arch further. The new position was intimate, and was clearly one that would appear so to any onlookers - Furiosa realised suddenly.

No sooner had he moved did she baulk at how much more of him was now pressed into her, and how comparatively little he had been touching her before.

As the footsteps slowed to a stop next to them, a short harsh laugh resounded in the cavernous stairwell, and Furiosa's fists clenched where they were pinned.

'My my, if it isn't the Lucky Prae Jack' a male voice called out, a knowing taunt to the words. Furiosa distantly recognised it as one of the other Praetorians. A cruel man whose sneer she knew was a real one this time.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see him leering at them, his thick leather boots scuffing the floor as he shifted slightly. She could smell him from where he stood and it nearly made her retch. Weeks old sweat and grime, and rotting meat rations stuffed into his pockets.

"I'd heard there was a new pet in the circle. Word travels fast around here, especially with something like this". He mused, taking another step closer. Furiosa felt Jack's body seem to tilt slightly, blocking the other man's view of her.

"Couldn't keep your hands off it for even the five seconds it takes to walk back to the bunk, huh?"

Furiosa scrunched her eyes shut, mortified. Her empty hands clutching at the air, bereft of her weapons.

"Hm, if it's that tempting, maybe I'll have to try it myself." The man's tone was conversational, maybe even jovial as he chattered away.

She felt Jack's body become taut behind her, but he didn't release her.

"Fuck off, Aaron." Jack's deep voice was loud in Furiosa's ear, but all she could do was hold still. It went against all her instincts, but as much as she hated Jack at that moment, her brain screamed that somehow this other man might be far worse.

"Come on Jack, don't be like that" Aaron goaded, and Furiosa could see the shadow of the man's boots move as if to take a step closer.

Jack jerked back at that, his body still keeping her pinned but his head turning to look at the other Praetorian.

"If you touch a single hair on her head, I will slice off whatever limb you used to do it with" Jack's voice cut through the air sharply. Furiosa would have been surprised at the venom in his voice, but her brain was too focussed on how she would rip both of the Praetorian's throats out if he got any closer.

Furiosa couldn't see the silent exchange that clearly happened after that, but something in Jack's look must have spooked the other man as she heard his footsteps continue on around them.

"Fine, fine! Keep your little pet. It's not like she'll last long on the road anyway." Aaron grumbled as he strode away past them.
Furiosa felt herself slowly releasing a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding.

Aaron's steps became more distant as his voice floated back towards them one more time. "Always knew you were a selfish bastard."

Furiosa and Jack stayed stationary for a minute longer, both of them waiting until the man had disappeared far enough away.

It felt like an eternity before Furiosa felt the pressure at her back lighten up just a tiny amount as Jack's taut muscles began to loosen, and this time it was Furiosa's chance to turn the tables. Whipping her arm back out of his grip, she drove it into his side and heard the exhale of a breath forced out of him. Using the split second of his distraction, she slipped beneath him - her smaller size an advantage finally.

Jack did nothing to recapture her though, and Furiosa stopped only a meter away from him. When Jack slowly straightened up, he looked over at her carefully, eyes wide. They stood that way for a moment, both of them assessing the other. Then, Jack's hands slowly raised by his sides, his palms facing her in a surrender. Furiosa remained stony faced, but Jack's piercing eyes didn't leave hers. An apology too, maybe?

No, Furiosa thought, unwilling to let her mind betray her like that. Not after her body had already failed to recognise the obvious danger of him.

She didn't have longer to contemplate his actions however, as he murmured quietly towards her. 'Do what you want. But know that my intent is only to keep you safe. The choice is yours."

Without waiting for her reply, Jack turned and began continuing his original route, his steps light.

Furiosa's chest tightened, and as much as she wanted to scorn Jack and show him exactly how much she had hated that, had hated what he had done to her, her self preservation won out.

If she pressed deep (not even that deep really, but Furiosa refused to admit that), she could see the logic in his actions. But at that point she didn't give a flying fuck why he had done it.

It was easier to direct her scowl towards the back of his head as she forced her feet to fall into step behind him, along the path to the Praetorian's bunk.

Chapter Text

If Furiosa had expected it to be any different when she entered into the Praetorian's bunk chambers, she was sorely mistaken.

The room itself wasn't that big, but at least ten heads turned as they entered into the darkened room. A sole window off to the side carved out of the rock face let in just enough moonlight to navigate around the bed cots littering the floor.

While the war boys had been loud and rambunctious in their curiosity, the Praetorians were instead a quieter, colder atmosphere. Hungry.

They didn't approach her, nor were any loud comments made, but the glances and hushed mumbles shared between the men sorting their belongings before sleep were somehow worse.

Furiosa fought the urge to pull up the fabric of her hood higher up her face like she had always had in the past. Instead, she stepped in closer behind Jack, following his footsteps close enough to nearly blend into his shadow.

Jack, however, had an air of paying them no attention. He moved easily around the cots until he reached one in particular, neatly covered by a red blanket. His gaze lifted, looking past it to the empty cots stacked up in the corner.

There were always plentiful spare beds in a city where people regularly popped off their mortal coil, and this room was no different. The notion barely even registered in Furiosa's head anymore.

It took Jack two long strides to grab one of the spares before he hauled it down and positioned it next to the rocky wall, tucked neatly near to the corner.

Furiosa took the hint that this would be her new bed without it needing to be spoken aloud. She settled her eyes on the thin stretch of fabric covering the metal frame and trying to ignore the numerous eyes she could feel boring into her body from around the room.

She eyed the rocky walls. Good. Two sides she wouldn't have to worry about defending in the night, at least. A clear vantage point over the rest of the room. No other cots too close.

As she turned to examine it further, the quality somewhat better than her Dogman bed she mused, the sound of scraping metal on rock grated her ears.

To the wide eyed stares of the other Praetorians, Jack slowly dragged what she could only assume was his own cot purposefully towards hers and deposited it between her and the rest of the room. He caught her watching incredulously and looked pointedly at her, before dropping the cot into its position loudly.

Jack turned around to face the room, placing himself next to Furiosa. Knowing what was coming, Furiosa straightened herself up and projected her fiercest glare directly ahead, inside feeling felt like a scav trapped in approaching headlights.


"This is Furiosa." Jack called out. "The Immortan has declared that she shall apprentice under me."

The room seemed to drop several degrees as all the hairs on Furiosa's arm pricked up at once, like a ghostly caress. Seeming to recognise the telltale silence as something dangerous, Jack caught her eye. He lifted his hand and placed it firmly on her shoulder, moving slow enough that she could easily have stepped away. She didn't. Suffering now for freedom later.

Furiosa distantly felt the rough callouses of his fingers permeate through the thin fabric, his hand wide enough to almost dip into the hollow of her collarbone. She killed a shiver growing across her flesh in its infancy.

Jack's voice dropped an octave, his next words almost a growl.

"Any questions?"

Several pairs of eyes immediately dropped from her, and a hushed cough resonated from a distant side of the room before the softer rustling and hubbub of before their arrival resumed. Jack's hand slipped from her.

Unable to stop it and hating it all the same, Furiosa felt heat rising from her chest and up the skin of her neck, blistering her skin in red.

The bloody Praetorian couldn't have been more obvious in his actions if he'd tried, and she had to admit that if she wasn't so furious at him, at the whole bloody situation, she'd have praised him for his ingenuity.

He'd effectively staked his claim on her in front of all the others, and either they respected or feared him enough - Furiosa didn't know which yet - but it seemed they weren't willing to cross him.

Furiosa's left hand had been almost constantly attached to her pocket since Jack had let her go, ensuring both her revolver and knuckleduster blade she'd taken from him on the rig were still firmly in her grasp. She hated it, hated her safety being placed in the hands of someone else. Someone else who she had no idea of his motives.

She saw out of the corner of her eye Jack shifting into her frame of vision, sitting on his cot and pulling off his leather jacket to settle down. Furiosa allowed herself to watch him as he stripped off his outer layer. His broad build was layered with muscle, evident even through the thin cotton undershirt. Furiosa didn't look away even as he turned to place the jacket on the side of the cot nearest to her, folding it neatly to her surprise.

She knew he was conscious of her gaze, but he didn't hesitate or change what looked like a well worn routine.

It irritated her. What, so only he could make her uncomfortable?

She raked her eyes over him, scouring him, examining where his weapons were kept, any weaknesses in his carapace. The strength she had felt him use against her made sense now, she noted, her gaze touching all over him.

As he finally finished, he subtly but intentionally caught her eyes, holding her gaze only briefly before turning his back fully on her and lying down to face the rest of the room.

Somehow, despite only having spent a few hours in his company, Furiosa could read him already. And what she read, was
"I've got your back"

She almost scoffed, but held it back in the face of a room of strangers.

She lifted her gaze up again to examine the other occupants of the room. A couple men to the left had a pack of cards between them, chatting lowly between themselves as they wound down in the cooler evening air. On the right, the majority of the men and boys had settled down, but one tall Praetorian stood facing her direction as he stripped off his boots. She caught his eye as he openly stared at her, eyes roving across her features with something akin to shock.

Furiosa's fists clenched, refusing to back down. The cogs in her brain whirred but she didn't recognise him.

A fleeting thought graced her features. Jack had warned her not to make eye contact... but, Furiosa bristled, and fuck him, she could protect herself too.

On a more rational level, Furiosa knew that she would never be safe just coasting by in Jack's shadow.

The Citadel respected strength, power and valor, if she didn't stand her ground here, she'd be fresh pickings the moment Jack turned his back.

Her glare held strong, and the concentration in the other man's eyes began to flicker.
The feelings of vindication, cool on her brow began to build up in Furiosa, only to be ripped away as the tall Praetorian's eyes dropped momentarily to Jack's cot in front of her before turning his back sharpish.

Screw this.

Furiosa swept her glare across the rest of the room, beginning to rile herself up for a fight. She wasn't going to let a man's make-believe stake on her define her entire being. If a single other person decided to leer at her in the next five minutes she was going to rip their throat out, and teach them her own damn consequences.

Her disappointment was barely veiled as each and every other person in the room had suddenly either settled down to sleep or was otherwise pointedly not looking at her.

Eventually though, as snores began to drift through the room, even she had to settle - the weight on her wounded leg was becoming too hard to ignore.


Still on edge, she perched only the lightest amount of her weight on the cot but eventually as the room's occupants had all settled in themselves and the moon dipped behind a cloud she found herself sinking a little deeper.

The Organic had addressed her leg earlier and declared it not broken, only sprained, but hells did it hurt. Furiosa rubbed at the thin fabric wrapping it.

The day had worn at her. The seed tied tightly into the knot of her hair had never felt heavier, nor had Furiosa ever felt quite so exhausted, in pain, and miserable. She knew better than to dwell on the failed escape attempt, though. It wasn't her first and wouldn't be her last.

Just in case things couldn't get any worse, he stomach let out a quiet grumble, almost echoing against the cavernous walls of the bunk. Fucking great, she thought.

She knew they had missed the last meal of the day due to the rig's late arrival, but they could have gone down for scraps after seeing the Immortan.

Furiosa begrudgingly regretted remaining silent when Jack had mentioned it earlier. The Praetorian had just shrugged when she didn't reply, and she guessed he had assumed she wasn't up for it.

He was right, at least he had been at that point in the day.
But now, after the whole debacle stowing away under the rig for hours, then fighting for her life... It was finally catching up with her.

The adrenaline had slowly worked its way out of her system, leaving her bone cold and her stomach ravenously empty.

Furiosa stifled a sigh, prepared to wait it out until morning when a movement caught her eye. Jack's form shifted slightly under the blanket he had covered himself in, before one of his arms slipped out and under his cot. Before Furiosa could process what he was doing, a single, semi-grimy potato had been left silently within arms reach of her own bed. He still faced away from her, not having turned around at all.

Furiosa blinked incredulously. Almost beyond rational thought at that point, she surreptitiously laid back into her own cot, the motion distracting from her nimble fingers scooping up the vegetable and concealing it under her shirt.

Don't, her brain screamed at her. Every favour is one that he will eventually cash in.

The thought stopped her motions for only half a second before she brought the potato subtly to her lips, sneaking bites as silent as she could, relishing in the taste - even days old and muddied as it was.
Carby and filling, it was almost a better ration on its own than she'd been given as a Dogman. Now that was a miserable thought.

Furiosa couldn't even bring herself to glare at Jack's form in the dark, too relieved by the hollow of her stomach settling slightly.

She doubted she would ever trust Jack, but at least while she was here, she figured she would use whatever protection he was offering and deal with the consequences later.

Later, Furiosa mused, gripping her weapons under the blanket tightly, flinching at each creak and groan of Praetorians shifting in their beds. If she made it to later.

Her eyes stared out into the dark, huddling further into the wall, the feel of its solidity soothing her. Exhaustion pinged at her senses but there was no way she would be able to sleep here. Her skin felt raw against the rough fabric of the cot, but she still felt herself sinking deeper into it anyway.

She blinked.

The moon had moved. How much time had passed? Shit, she didn't know. It was still dark, and Furiosa felt a sliver of relief when she found her fingers, although sluggish, were still gripped around the blade tightly.

Her eyes instinctively sought out Jack's form, only about a meter in front of her. When it caught the dark shape of him, Furiosa released a breath she didn't know she had been holding, and what could only be relief bled into her limbs. It shook her slightly, the man was a stranger for christ's sake. Since when did her body start recognising him as an ally?

She resolved to beat the instinct out of herself at first light, settling back down again.

As her eyes began to droop once more, something in her hesitated. Goosebumps raised on the flesh of her arm as a tall figure appeared slowly around the entrance to the bunk, partially illuminated by the lamps in the corridor outside. The figure stopped moving, but even in the dim light she could tell it was facing her direction.

Furiosa's blood froze, and she stayed still under her blanket. If they approached her, at least she would have the element of surprise if they thought she was still asleep.

The silence was permeated only by the light snores of the other Praetorians, but all Furiosa could hear was the rushing of her own blood in her ears.


As if right on cue, the figure took a step forward in the direction of her cot, and that confirmed it for her. Like moths to a flame, it was inevitable. The figure was clearly taking the time to conceal any noise, and a piece of fabric dangled from their hand. A gag, her mind helpfully supplied.

Furiosa felt her whole body tense, the sick anticipation of an impending fight making it more and more difficult to hold still.

Furiosa's vision tunnelled, focussing in on the footsteps approaching, catching a glint of metal concealed in a shoe. A blade, probably. She'd grab that off him first, slice through his hamstring cleanly to cripple him before moving upwards.

She kept her eyes as lidded to disguise her awakened state while she locked her own blade into an open position, a good backup plan. Counting the steps, she breathed deeply in time with the slow approach when - what?

Her vision was blocked. Furiosa caught herself nanoseconds before sitting up, realising that the threat's boots on the floor had also suddenly stopped, still halfway across the room from her. A second pair of boots landed on the floor, this time directly in front of her.

Jack.

He had sat upright, silently but purposefully, his body a ward between Furiosa and the unknown approaching figure. Nothing happened for a moment, and had she not so closely stared at him earlier she would have missed the extra tension in his right shoulderblade. Nestled keenly in the crook of his arm was some wicked long blade, rusted prongs sharpened to points that were designed to rend flesh from bone like meat under canine fangs.

Furiosa couldn't see all of it, couldn't even think of where had concealed it in order to have it so readily available.

She didn't need to, though, as the other figure clearly had run the situation through in their own head. There was no conversation, no communication through the tilting of heads, just a tense stand off.

As soon as he has arrived, the man left just like that. Jack simply laid back down, continuing to face towards the door.

Furiosa baulked.

The situation she was in was bad enough, but for some reason the Preatorian closest to her was what laid heaviest on her mind.

Why had he even been awake?

Using his reputation to passively protect her was one thing, but acting as, as ... overnight watch for her was another.

Scowling, Furiosa ran her fingers over the cot's metal bar edge, drumming the nail tips lightly and waited for Jack to notice. Jack's ears clearly pricked, but to her chagrin, he made no move to roll over or look at her.

It ticked her off, but she wasn't about to start something with Jack in front of everyone else. Reluctantly, she guessed it could wait until the morning.

If he wanted to play gallant saviour all night, he'd soon learn it wouldn't pull in any favours from her.

Pulling her blanket more tightly around her, Furiosa settled in for a long night.

Chapter Text

The dark half-moon circles under her eyes were the only sign Furiosa hadn't slept a wink last night.

For all intents and purposes, she appeared alert and ready to go.

Jack, however, knew better. After all, he'd been awake for most of the night as well.

He ground his molars together distractedly, pulling on his jacket and getting ready to go to the halls for morning rations.

He'd had to threaten a further two people last night, one Praetorian and one especially ballsy warboy. The warboy had been dumb enough to be oblivious of Jack until he had finally stood up, wielding the zombie knife in front of him.

He'd expected all this to some extent when he made the decision to put Furiosa on his crew, but bloody gods if he wasn't tired now. And this was only the first day.

At least it hadn't come to a physical confrontation in the end, he mused, tucking the blade against his back. The cool metal was almost pleasant against his skin in the morning heat.

Jack had no doubt Furiosa could handle herself, after all he'd seen more than enough evidence of that on the rig, but it wasn't just that.

If people started ignoring his rank and getting away with it, it was going to become a whole lot more dangerous for her. Grimly, he expected he'd have to make an example of someone in the coming few days.

He wasn't stupid, he knew one or two people would slip through the grills and she would be on cleanup duty. Gleefully so, he expected.

He'd have to be blind to miss the fire in her as she clocked the men staring, and the way she clutched that blade like it was her lifeblood was a sign as clear as day.

That didn't mean Jack wanted to put it to the test, though.

He'd also cultivated his rank carefully since arriving in the Citadel, and he wasn't willing to let it go down the drains for a new crewmate... Even if, he admitted to himself, she was the best raw talent he'd seen in over a decade.

Jack checked his laces, stretching his peripheral senses to check on Furiosa who sat behind him quietly, not having spoken a single word since their... uh, scuffle in the stairwell the day before.

His cheeks pinched in a grimace before he ran an open palm down his face, trying to wipe off the embarrassment.

Why the hells did that have to happen?

Jack wasn't in the business of touching unwilling women; wasn't in the business of touching any women currently if he was being realistic.

He'd been pleasantly impressed when she'd gotten the initial drop on him, even if her technique was untrained, a little sloppy.

He'd originally been intending to give her her first lesson in hand to hand combat, to teach her to deal with threats larger than her as he had turned her, but… Jack suppressed a groan.

It had quickly become - for lack of a better word - messy.

Jack's hands burned. The memory of his fingertips digging into the softer flesh of her hip ghosted his senses.
He banished the thought before it even had time to settle, before it would grace his features and give him away.

He'd had to think fast when he'd heard the telltale jangling of the Praetorian belt rounding the corner.

Maybe, he rationalised, it hadn't been the best of introductions to his partnership with Furiosa.

But it had been effective, he couldn't deny that. The Praetorian hadn't lingered, and they both still had all their limbs intact. In time, he hoped she would see that too.

He distinctly hoped she hadn't seen the way his fingers had trembled slightly when they'd split apart afterwards.

Frankly, his reaction disgusted him. He wasn't a war pup, fresh from a growth spurt. She was going to face that behaviour from almost everyone else here, the least he could do was be better.

It was not his intention at all when he recruited her, in fact he had been so taken by her skill that her gender hadn't even occurred to him at first. It was only when she'd asked about the vault in that quiet voice that he realised exactly the struggles she'd be facing coming back here.

He couldn't let this new revelation change his plan: Train her. Run the Fury Road. Don't die. Send her away again. Don't think about where she had been going, don't picture somewhere better out there in the wastelands.

Don't picture her on the front of the rig, flowing hair ripping wildly in the air as she replaced the radiator cap....

Bollocks.

Jack clenched his fists. He was just pent up, clearly. He discreetly made a mental note to find some time alone in the near future, once her position had solidified more.

In a way, they'd been lucky it was the Praetorian Aaron who had stumbled upon them. He was one of the cockier Praetorians, more likely to have challenged Jack openly if he'd met them in the bunk room instead.

Perhaps his taking them by surprise was a blessing in disguise.
That, and Aaron was also a notorious gossip; the news of Jack and Furiosa would probably be spread down to even the pissboys at this point.

He winced, realising distinctly that they would be the talk of the Citadel today.
Attention, although common for him, wasn't his favourite.

Jack knew it wasn’t enough yet, there would need to be something more, something obvious that more eyes could see directly… but he hoped to the bloody gearhead gods that there wouldn't need to be a repeat of last night. (His fingers twitched. Jack ignored it)

Chancing a glance over his shoulder at the object of his thoughts, Furiosa was perched alertly on her cot. Her dark hair wound loosely over her shoulders, a few strands sticking to the sweat of her face.

He allowed himself to examine her for a moment. Young, but not a child. Maybe in her 20s? It was hard to tell. Clearly hardened by the desert, especially if the layer of grime on her was anything to go by. He barely knew his own age anymore, but he didn't think he was that much older than her.

He watched her alert eyes flicker into briefly suspicion as she noticed his attention, before she schooled herself back into that impassive mask she seemed to wear. He didn't really blame her, trust was nearly a myth in this place.

He could tell his eyes had outstayed their welcome when that dark, simmering expression that was almost a permanent fixture began to return. Even compared to some of his old crew, she was a prickly one, that was for sure.

'You good?' Jack's voice came out a little gruffer than intended, but she didn't seem to care.

A short nod was his only reply… Not that he had expected more.
He was actually a little relieved that he'd even gotten that from her this morning.

Training was going to be difficult enough with her being near-mute as she was, let alone without physical cues as well.

'Breakfast first.' He announced, words coming out more surely now. His vision drifted to the empty space where he'd left her the ration last night, a tinge of warmth ran through him at finding it empty.

Furiosa stood abruptly, her foot covering the space where he had looked, her eyes dragging his up to her. She said nothing, just continued to stare.

Her expression screamed We're not talking about it.

Not a thank you, but not a rejection either. Jack supposed it was a start.

He stood, before lowering his voice.

'Follow behind me' he murmured before turning away to walk towards the door, weaving between the cots.
Best for her not to draw any more unnecessary attention, to slip into his shadow.

He heard Furiosa at his back briefly, before blinking back his surprise as she fell into step by his side instead as the space widened. He stopped, looking at her quizzically, lips parted slightly in an unspoken question.
She turned to look at him and her eyes were like daggers, daring him to voice whatever he was going to say.

Deciding against it, Jack simply shrugged and continued walking. He wouldn't pull rank over her, it wasn't going to help and she'd clearly do what she wanted to do.

Besides, after the last point he'd try to make, he didn't think she'd take well to a second one so soon. He pointedly ignored the fact that he didn't think he could handle a repeat of that either.

They'd only taken a few steps but Jack could sense a poorly concealed, but positively gleeful victory emanating from her.

He kept walking, attempting to fight the upward curl of his mouth that threatened his schooled face. Jack realised he didn't seem to mind it at all.

The trip to the mess hall for breakfast was, shockingly, uneventful.

Jack doubted Furiosa would agree with his assessment, but ultimately he felt that getting away with just stares and gaping maws was about as good as they would get. Nobody had outright tried to touch her.

He was glad, but she was still on edge. Since packing up their bedrolls, Furiosa had stayed within an arms reach of him. He didn't know whether to be glad that she seemed more accepting of his help. He didn't know what was going through her head at all really.

All he knew is that he would keep her safe.

He’d expected nothing from her when he’d kept watch last night. Even when she had tried to get his attention by drumming her nails into the cot sides, he'd faced away, laid back down to sleep. Remained silent.

He didn't know how else to convince her that he was on her team. That she owed him nothing.

For as long as he had to put on a show for the Citadel with her, Jack had promised himself that he would make sure every other private moment was hers and hers alone.

Unfortunately, those moments were going to be far and few between for now.

She probably wouldn't like what he has planned this morning either. He sighed.

Just the first few days, Jack. Then she’ll be settled and safer. His mind whispered to him, but Jack remained stoically unoptimistic.

They trudged down the corridors, already bustling with the morning workers.

Jack took the opportunity to assess Furiosa, see if he could gauge her mood. Instead, he found himself fascinated.

Seeing her behave in the daylight, she was so unlike anyone else he'd met at the Citadel.

She put on a good show, but Jack felt it was just that: a show. Mimicry. She knew the ways they worked here, knew her way around a machine, knew how to tilt her head down and avoid attention…. but somehow it didn't seem instinctual to her. Not learned from birth.

He hadn't paid much attention himself to the mute dogman who had been mentioned occasionally in the past - no reason to. But now, he wished he had.

She carried herself like an Imperator in a pissboy’s body, the scrawny weight on her limbs misaligned with the proud, heavy soul within.

The more Jack watched and learned about her, the more any conceivable theories dropped off his lists.
Was she born in the vault? Somehow escaped and had hidden away as a boy since then? It still didn't make sense.

While his feet continued walking, his mind was elsewhere entirely. He couldn't distract himself from her wiry presence slinking at his side and it bothered him.

Where had she been going on that day? There was nowhere else out there, nowhere worth going to at least.

It puzzled him to no end, these questions without answers. Jack frowned, almost regretting promising to not ask her anything, but in reality he doubted she'd have answered what he really wanted to know.

He sighed. It mattered little. She would help him on the rig, keep them both alive on the Fury Road, and then he would help her go.

Their deal fulfilled. The end.

Jack brought himself back to reality.

Furiosa turned her head suddenly as he brought his eyes to her, and Jack pretended he hadn't just caught her staring. She probably had questions for him as well, he guessed.

How long would it take her to pluck up the nerve and ask?

Jack sectioned off that curious inner voice and told it to wait until later. He wasn't sure how to feel about the realisation he was looking forward to it.

After picking up their rations, Jack made to turn around when Furiosa suddenly flitted closer to his side, ignoring her one meter rule.

The booming voice of Rictus Erectus filled into the hall, complaining about something or another. Jack blocked him out immediately, unwilling to let any of that oaf's stupidity leech into him.

Jack had begun to feel that Furiosa was like an untethered shadow, somehow consistently ending back up right next to him... but this time she had positioned herself slightly behind him.

He paused briefly, picking up on her mood change immediately. Her ramrod straight back was leaning slightly forward this time, and her eyes slunk low to the floor.

What was it?

The leathers on Jack's shoulders shifted as he subtly twisted to look in all angles but despite doing so he couldn't see anything immediately dangerous about their current situation. At least, no more than the usual.

After looking back at Furiosa and gleaming nothing about what she was thinking, he continued on, picking up the pace anyway.
Whatever it was, they'd have to go through him first.

He hoped he'd learn to read her a little better in time; it would be invaluable on the Fury Road to work instinctively together. Rictus' voice slowly blended out as they got further away.

Furiosa stuck to his side still, but he could feel her untensing.

Jack wondered; Would she tell him if there was something seriously wrong?

So far, she hadn't had much opportunity to do so - but if last night was any situation to count on, Jack put her down as a firm 'no'.
He wasn't sure why a faint curling disappointment settled in his chest at that thought, after all he'd known her less than two days.

In those days though, he HAD noticed her affinity for curling close to the walls. He steered them closer to the edge of the room to sit down, and Furiosa was quick to move in and settle down opposite him on the wonky benches.

Eyes followed them, and Jack let himself briefly admire her projected indifference.

He felt his own subtle pride at learning to spot the lesser tells of her nerves, and the shallow disappointment from earlier faded. He rubbed at his chest absently.

He looked down at his own food, a protein rich gruel of maggot mash. As his apprentice, he'd managed to snag Furiosa the same rations without too much grumbling from the chef.

Good, Jack mused. He’d intentionally avoided looking at her body, but if her skinny forearms were anything to go by then she could stand to pad herself out a little more.

Before Jack could even consider voicing such a thought, Furiosa began wolfing down her rations like a starved beast, earning her a few more (admittedly valid) stares.

She was a spectacle.
To the others, Jack corrected himself.

He took a deep breath, disguising it as a yawn.

The mess room was large, the high ceilings enabled a distinct echo that could be amplified in the right situations.
Many a Praetorian had taken advantage of it in the past to make examples of young warboys, pushing others to the ground to make themselves rise up.
It was a common ground, a busy meeting place and the hive of gossip spread from bench to bench over food in the Citadel. Efficient for his purposes.

Deciding that now was as good a time as ever, Jack straightened up and quickly assessed their surroundings. As expected, several pairs of hands were still gesturing in their direction, tongues wetting chapped and cracked lips, hungry eyes lingering.

Perfect.

He would never have described Furiosa as oblivious, but at that second her preoccupation with her breakfast was a boon. It would be less awkward this way.

Jack leaned forward, closing the distance slightly, and rested his forearms on the table between them. He tilted his head and allowed himself to openly watch Furiosa, feeling the burn of eyes on his back, suddenly critically aware that Furiosa was preoccupied whilst everyone else was certainly not.

It killed two birds with one stone. His obvious attention would, hopefully, reinforce her status as his apprentice to others whilst not having to embroil her in a two-person display like the last.

He kept his eyes firmly on her face. He ignored the nimbleness of her narrow fingers as they danced over her food (so unlike his. He assumed. He didn't look at them. )

It took longer than expected, but Furiosa did eventually look up. She was crunching her way through her last mouthful and Jack had to physically stop himself backing away.

Guilt crawled up his neck like he had been caught doing something wrong, even if it had been intentional.

The way her eyes widened at their proximity burned into his retina. The muscles in her neck tensed and Jack waited for her to withdraw, but then her eyes narrowed and she stopped.

He could see the internal battle in her, before she settled down to wait, still tense but her eyes locked on his. Almost face to face.

Smart girl.

"Good." Jack spoke barely louder than a whisper, for her ears only. "I counted at least 15 pairs of eyes.”

Furiosa didn’t look away, but he could see her eyes glaze slightly like she was examining her peripheral senses.

Numbly, Jack realised it would be better if he let his eyes trail down, emphasise their little performance a bit more. Furiosa refocused her sight on him and nodded almost imperceptibly.

She had accepted their current situation, but the steel in her expression told him he’d better not push her further than this.

He'd taken a chance that she’d be on board with continuing their little ruse, hadn't prepped her for it in advance and so he was relieved she’d run with it today. It would buy her additional time that would hopefully keep her alive longer.
Long enough, at least, for him to train her a bit better in physical combat.

That guilt that had crept up his throat earlier tightened into a chokehold. It wasn't just that, though, was it?

He actually enjoyed this.

Some long-buried part of his brain had been stirred from the ashes, and displaying his claim over Furiosa publicly had somehow stoked the coals. Some misplaced masculinity that had no role in his life anymore had flared out unintentionally. Even now, Furiosa’s eyes on him continued to fan the flames.

Jack stamped on it immediately until it was nothing but a hollow emptiness inside him.

Focussing on the original intention, he forced himself to slowly lean back, bringing one arm to lie on the backrest and the other to scoop the last morsel of grub into his mouth.

He broke their eye contact, unable to look her in the eye anymore even if he had wanted to.

His hands moved to gather both their empty bowls and take them back. Focus, Jack.

As he reached his hand out, Furiosa subtly pulled her empty bowl closer to herself and stood up with him.

Ah, she wanted to do it herself. Retain at least some element of self control in her life.

Jack cringed inwardly, before nodding to her. He fought to keep his face passive like he had learned in the long wasteland years spent here.

Why was this the most difficult thing he'd done all week?

He'd rather go back to being shot at and stabbed on the road than have to confront whatever emotional conflict wrestled though him right now.

Road war, he knew. Whatever this was… Jack shook his head. Not so much.

A tick of confusion ran through Jack though, the mundaneness of the thought allowing it to remain. Why was he even going to take her bowl for her in the first place?

Tucking that thought away for later, it was best they got a move on with the rest of the day anyway. Preferably before he tortured himself with self analysis, emotions he didn't care to remember he had

They walked. Furiosa drifted consistently at his side. Minutes passed.

It niggled at him anyway. Always a glutton for torture, apparently.

Jack knew, you didn't care about people in the wastelands. Everyone knew that.
If you did, it was a weakness to be exploited.

He would have himself believe he didn't care about the boys on his crew, the ones who had blown themselves to smithereens only days before, but in reality he had a carefully crafted barrier stopping him splitting in two.

With the warboys, there were an inevitability. They almost craved death, and although it didn't soothe him, it… it helped.
Furiosa was another thing entirely.

Slowly, Jack realised what the feeling was. Her death wasn't inevitable, not like the boys. Like him, they together hung on a wire, dancing along the sand of the endless desert. Skill alone would bring them home at the end of each run.

But when he finally sent her back out there, alone with no forseeable plan, that was a choice he would make to condemn her to her end.

Her death would be on him.

He could prevent it, squirrel her away and never forge her an opportunity to leave - but what kind of man would that make him?

She was a free spirit, unyielding and steady - he’d seen enough to know that by now.

She had his word. That was enough.

Jack chanced a glance over at Furiosa, her brow furrowed as if deep in thought while they walked. Nonetheless, she strode purposefully, ready for the day ahead. Unconcerned by whatever marred her thoughts, unknowing of the warring conflict within him.

Well.

Jack's decision had been made.

I’ll teach her all I know, show her how to make a tolerable life here. A livable one. If she stays, she stays.

If she leaves…

Jack felt a shaky hand along his internal barrier.

He’d make sure it would hold.

Chapter Text

They'd continued straight on, their path never deviating from the narrowing corridor to the House of Holy Motors next.

Jack found that once he was moving, his body fell back easily into the routine he was used to - no matter the distraction that was Furiosa.
The relief that flooded him was immense.

There was plenty to do to prepare the rig for the next run, and the time to do it would pass before they knew it. The unloading crew yesterday had made a good start but the rig had been well and truly battered.

First though, he had to pick a new crew. He didn't let himself bore over it, he knew it wasn't a task he enjoyed.

The knowledge of sending another set of boys to their probable (inevitable) deaths was not assuaged by their eager willingness to join his team. For them it was all about the opportunity to die eternal on the Fury Road.

To arrive at the gates of the glorious Valhallah, Jack thought bitterly. He'd never taken to the concept.

The war boys all knew it was coming, had been loudly revelling in the stories of the last crew’s demise.

Jack had seen far more boys at breakfast trying to catch his eye. He’d thought it was because of Furiosa, but he grimaced now, realising their desires to be on his crew probably outweighed their curiosities about her.

Lucky Jack, the warboys called him, whispering his name reverently in the corridors and raising their hands in the sign of the V8 as he walked by.

The most successful runs on the Fury Road.

A small crowd was beginning to gather distantly behind them, boisterous chatter getting closer and closer while they had walked the winding path. They knew what was coming next.

Jack subtly slowed his steps and used the guise of the path narrowing to place himself behind her.
Between her and the masses that had begun following them.

If Furiosa realised what he was doing, she said nothing, simply accepting her role at the front of the pack like she'd been born there. Her dark hair was tied only with a small knot on the back of her head, and the dusty strands almost whipped at him as the howling gusts of the fans propelled hot, stale air through the caves.

By the time they arrived at the opening to the cavernous room, the uproar behind them was almost deafening. Jack felt a twitch as he realised he’d have keep an eye on a whole lot more people around Furiosa, but when the boys started piling into the room he let the tension seep out a little.

They didn't give a damn right now about some ‘girl’ walking beside Jack. Not when, for most of them, this would be their one and only chance to be selected for his crew.

Still, not willing to push his famed luck, Jack stepped up to the platform by the rig to look out over the crowd. As he stepped past Furiosa, he lightly tapped her elbow once. Asking her, without words, to wait at the side for him.

His touch didn't linger, but she jumped a little anyway and Jack felt a tinge of guilt. It was assuaged when she glanced up at him and quickly nodded, before she moved to the edge of the platform.

Somehow boys were still spilling in, pushing the ones at the front closer.

He watched Furiosa as she turned to face the crowd as well, standing fearlessly. Like there was nowhere else better placed for her.

Her face was calm and expressionless. Jack had no idea what was going through her head, but figured he’d think about that later and get the crew selection out of the way now.

The noise in the room had reached a peak, masses of white bodies roughhousing to get a better look to the front - but none coming closer to the platform. As if stopped by an invisible barrier of authority, and Furiosa but a shadow to them right now.

Jack pulled the lapels of his jacket straighter. No time like the present, he supposed.

It was impossible to miss the desperation in the faces in front of him as he racked his brains, pulling out all the knowledge he had of the boys his eyes bounced between. Who would work well together, who would be valuable to him.

Several names he called out straight away.

“Valo, Grey, Ivar, Vice. You're in”.

There was a massive writhing of the white skin ahead of him, before the four chosen battled their way to the front, vicious grins pulling their lips back.

Jack ignored their cries of victory, as well as the copious swearing that also peeled out of them in the same breaths. He tilted his head to his right, indicating for the boys to stand on the other side of him. Away from Furiosa.

They dutifully complied, too engaged in boasting to the others and praising themselves for securing the ever coveted spot on his team to question it.

Jack spent a little longer deliberating on the other warboys.

He was consistently conscious of Furiosa standing patiently to his side, keeping her distance from the crowd that sometimes surged a bit closer forward.

Jack finally selected another bunch of promising talents and now began weighing up the final choices. The remaining warboys had quietened down a bit, having watched their chances be whittled away one by one with each selection that wasn't them. The desperation in their body language was beginning to show.

The last choice was always the most difficult. He found himself eyeing up two options, one he’d heard good things about but didn't know personally. The other he’d witnessed was a good revhead… but he had no idea how well he would work in a team.

Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. Jack faced this every time he had to select a new crew. At the same time, he could never bring himself to get to know the war boys more.

To know them was to suffer their loss... But to make the wrong choice was to die.

He didn't know why he did it, but he found himself sweeping his eyes over to Furiosa. She spotted him immediately much to his chagrin, and Jack turned away immediately.

He chided himself for seeking distractions over just choosing, and resolved to just pick one and be done with it all.

Instead, he couldn’t help but watch as her dark hair slipped down her back as she looked up and into the crowd. He was transfixed as her eyes darted across each of the remaining boys, lingering on the exact two he’d been considering. Examining them on her own.

She had been paying attention.

Jack was pleasantly surprised before he really comprehended what it meant: Furiosa would know those boys far better than he ever would have.

Hells, she’d worked among them for years.

Admittedly, they'd never spotted she was a woman so he wasn't sure how close she'd really been to any of them… But, she would surely have seen how they worked. How they acted when the Praetorians weren't around.

Jack suddenly realised just how valuable her opinion might be.
Unfortunately, he also realised he had no way to actually ask her right now. Not in any way that wasn't completely obvious to the crowd in front.

He shifted, using the excuse of drinking from his waterskin to think.

Furiosa was the one to catch his attention this time and he let his eyes briefly flit to her before he backed off again.
Seconds passed, and he was dismayed to realise she hadn't let up. Her stare grabbed at him, goading him to look back. The skin on his chest tightened.

Didn't she realise the boys were going to notice in a minute? Was she instigating her own display here?

He felt his muscles tense, she was playing a dangerous game trying to do something right now. He may have had several weapons stashed on him, but at the end of the day he only had two hands and he’d need far more if a fight kicked off in here.

Jack and Furiosa against the Citadel had not been on his books when he got up that morning. Not like this, anyway.

Unwilling to indulge whatever she was doing right now, he shot her a warning glance just as she decided to rearrange her position.

She moved her limbs with a strange precision, crossing her arms, widening her stance, tilting her head the slightest amount to the right. Not just adjusting for comfort, Jack registered.
She stopped there, clearly waiting a moment.

For what, he couldn't tell.

Jack made no move to speak or make his final choice of warboy, too preoccupied with planning any way to stop attention being drawn to her.

Furiosa had the audacity to frown.

Irritation pierced her features like whatever she was trying to convey could have been guessed by a mere pup.

Jack felt his own frustration build. He wasn’t a bloody mind reader, and in a minute he would just clear the room and make his last pick later. The boys were beginning to get restless, and a couple of the more ill and disfigured warboys, the ones who were unlikely picks in the first place, began to focus their attention elsewhere.

One of Furiosa's feet shifted slightly then, and Jack’s ears somehow caught the shuffling sound. Her boot slid towards the right hand side of the room, and she tapped it once against the floor.

Like a rope being unravelled, Jack followed the direction of her body language, his sight landing on a particular warboy. The revhead he’d considered earlier, who was standing in a pose eerily similar to that which Furiosa had just shifted into.

She wasn't trying to start something at all. She was trying to give her advice.

Jack would have laughed if didn't feel like he was playing with live spark plugs. He didn't know if she was ingenious or crazy.

Forcing himself through it, he called out the final name -her choice- and the boy’s face lit up.

‘Oh! Oh thank you Prae Jack!’ the boy positively flew to Jack’s feet, almost throwing himself to the floor in front of him.
‘You’ll not regret this, I’ll serve Immortan Joe better than any of those wretches, just you see.’

‘Go join the rest of them,’ Jack replied, nodding to where the other chosen warboys had gathered, eagerly chatting amongst themselves.
‘We’ll get started shortly’.

The boy nodded enthusiastically, getting to his feet and hurrying over to the rest, but not before he spared a quick glance at Furiosa. Jack didn't miss the slight puzzling of the boys’s eyebrows as he caught sight of her.

Cutting the kid off, Jack spoke to the crowd again.
“The rest of you, work hard and there may be a space for you one day”.

Judging by the obvious tumours bubbling under the skin of numerous boys in the crowd, Jack intentionally promised nothing.

It didn't take long for the last remnants to shuffle out, and he could swear he saw Furiosa’s shoulders slump a little like she had been holding herself up stiffly the entire time.

For the shortest of moments, he pitied her. It didn't last, though. Furiosa knew what was coming next and he could see her fixing herself back up again for round two.

One problem down, now for the next one.

Chapter Text

Jack had ripped the bandaid off with Furiosa and his crew immediately. No point in delaying it any further.

The pushback against her from them wasn't as bad as Jack had expected, but he had nipped it in the bud early anyway.

He hoped.

He brushed his thumb absentmindedly over a thin cut on the ridge of his knuckle, where it had caught on the mouthiest warboy’s tooth. The tooth in question lay somewhere in the corner of the room now.

The other warboys had jeered at their friend, Fink, as he sullenly picked himself back up off the floor, face contorted into a pout.

'I wasn't really going to do anything, Prae Jack. She just hasn't earned her place with us is all.' he had mumbled as he hung back, nursing a swollen eye and split lip.

Fink had been Furiosa’s choice, but he didn't look at her to see if she regretted it now. She’d stayed suspiciously still and silent through the whole process.

He’d known if he hadn't shut the boy up quickly, he’d incite the rest… but it seemed Jack still had more to do. He clapped his hands once, the sound sharp.

‘Listen up.'

Even Furiosa turned towards him this time, the room awaiting his words in a cool anticipation.
Jack stepped up onto the mounted door plate, leaning off the rig with ease. He let himself examine every person in the room.

'This rig wouldn't be here today without her. You all want to die gloriously, but we have a mission each time we go out there. Furiosa here not only took down the Octoboss, but repaired the rig's main engine on the fly, under active fire, and took down at least a dozen scavs whilst doing it.' Jack paused, his brow settling into a heavy line. The boys were unmoving, hanging onto his every word.

'You want to know why she is on this crew? She-' Jack pointed at her, catching her wide eyes as she looked up at him.

No distractions, Jack.

'She has earned her place ten times over already.'

A heavy silence ran through the hall, the boys turning to look at each other, trying to gauge what each other thought before deciding their own opinions.

Jack coughed, hiding his exasperation. He’d really have to spell it out for them, wouldn't he?

'Might I also remind you that she has been working on this rig since most of you were barely graduated from war pups.'

An uproar had started after that, apparently the majority of them not having clocked yet that she was that 'mute dogman'. It confused them to no end, but the outcome overall seemed positive.

They respected war, if anything. And a proven warrior was a proven warrior no matter what was between their legs.

Some of the boys seemed to almost pity her, going as far to actually approach her - to Furiosa's immense caution and incredulosity - and say sorry that she didn't get a glorious death but that, don't worry, she'd get more chances now.

Jack’s relief was palpable, even if he didn't show it.

Furiosa didn’t dignify the boys with replies, just gritted her teeth and bore it.

Although her place seemed to be confirmed after that, the questions didn't stop.
Jack didn't bother correcting the warboy who asked him if Furiosa had killed the dogman and stepped into his skin, just gave the boy a disappointed stare which seemed to do the trick.

When Jack suspected Furiosa had had enough of hissing and glaring at the warboys, he called out their commands.

They got to work eagerly, vaulting around the rig with spryness that should only become more practiced. That must become more practiced. Jack wasn't in the habit of replacing his crews more often than he had to. Today had only cemented that for him.

Furiosa remained a novelty to them, but they just asked their questions in passing to her instead now as they set about their tasks.

The boys weren't as dangerous as the Praetorians, most never having seen a woman up close, let alone a full-life. Their interest was curiosity driven, wanting to touch her skin or lift a lock of her hair, asking her how she pissed, if girls could dine in Valhallah when they died or if they had somewhere else to go.

Jack kept a watchful eye, only occasionally intervening verbally to get work back on track.

It was an odd new dynamic, but Jack treated Furiosa professionally and put her to work as much as the rest of the boys. He would not belittle her by undervaluing her worth, nor would it benefit him to do so.

Instead of sending her off, though, he'd kept to his original word and had her work under his supervision. She had a lot to learn before she'd be ready to drive the rig, he told himself.

In any case, he didn’t think Furiosa would appreciate being thrown to the wolves on her own. She’d stopped meeting his eye after he’d spoken to the warboys, and he’d initially thought she was angry at him.

However, he’d begun to notice the way she was subtly ignoring her “1-meter-from-Jack-at-all-times” rule more and more regularly, stepping into his personal space briefly before skittering away again. Yes, it usually coincided with some of the more bold warboys’ approaches, but it was something.

This time, Jack did nothing to quash the small knot of warmth rising in him - maybe she was slowly getting used to him.

It was strange; Jack wouldn't have called himself antisocial, but he did keep to himself more often than not. Being thrust into a direct mentoring role was a culture shock, and he was quickly reminded that being a teacher was not his calling.

Thankfully, Furiosa wasn’t a typical student either.

Their communication was mostly nonverbal, especially on her part.

He’d commented on it earlier when they had a brief moment to themselves. Her head was buried in the dashboard of the rig, the leather face carved open to expose the mechanical organs beneath.

‘You know, for someone so quiet, you sure wanted to make sure I knew your opinion on picking Fink for the crew.’ Jack spoke, taking a gamble on whether she’d reply.

She shifted out from under the dashboard and gave him a withering look in return.

Jack smothered his amusement before handing her the next tool she required. She slid back under the overhang, her face disappearing but surprisingly her voice coming through instead.

‘He works hard. Respects you’ had come her response, a little muffled but very clearly her.

Jack hummed noncommittally, hiding his surprise artfully. ‘We’ll see about that.’ he replied, before adding quickly ‘I appreciate it.’

He hoped he sounded as genuine as he had meant.

The next time Furiosa reappeared she took her time and looked at him carefully before nodding, silent again, but something calmer in her demeanour.

Jack found he didn't mind her quiet too much after that. She’d speak when she wanted to.

He’d started off giving her instructions on what to focus on, and to her credit she just got on with it, no questions asked.

There’d been a couple moments she had paused while working on something, and Jack had wondered if she’d speak again and ask him to show her. He never pushed her, just gave her the time and space to figure it out herself.
Furiosa had simply sat for a moment, thinking, before she’d somehow work it out.

He’d known he had gauged correctly when he’d identified her as raw talent, but he was beginning to realise now that he had probably underestimated her.

He brought himself to the task at hand. Gripping the fractured glass and plastic covering the rig’s flood lamps, he wrenched off the covering. The lights inside had been shattered on the last run, leaving fragments of glass littering the inside.

He’d begun picking the more unusual tasks as the day went on, almost seeking to find something she didn’t know. He figured he’d picked correctly this time, as instead of holding her hand out for a tool and getting started, Furiosa had waited next to him, watching him intently.

Jack reached an arm in to the mechanics, buried to the elbow but angling his body in a way to allow her to watch more easily. He cleared the last glass fragments, then gripped the exposed wires and pulled them to the front. Grabbing the wire stripper, he carefully exposed the coppers and reattached them carefully to match the existing kill sequence.

Furiosa was keenly focussed, leaning in probably closer than she herself realised. Her eyes darted between the various coloured wires, her own fingers twitching as if recreating the process in her head.

When Jack pulled his hand back and held his palm open towards her for the replacement bulb, his mouth opened in habit to call out the part he required.

Before the words could even escape his lips, Furiosa already had a bulb wrapped in her grip and promptly dropped it into his palm.

However, when Jack hesitated Furiosa leaned back and scanned the workbench for a different bulb, clearly interpreting his actions as her having chosen incorrectly.

“It’s correct.” Jack said quietly. Furiosa stilled, turning back to him, her brows knitting slightly in confusion as he still didn't move.

Jack looked away first, grasping at an excuse for his strange behaviour.
‘I’ll get the soldering iron. You’ll do the soldering” he said, getting up.

He’d only stepped away to the nearest workbench, barely two meters, but it was enough to attract the attention of the boys. Jack had seen Valo waiting for an opportunity to approach Furiosa, but by the way he had been nervously picking at the scabs on his arms, it didn’t imply he wanted to hurt her.

He’d let it slide this time. Besides, she’d need to forge her own relationship with them in due time. If they trusted her, they'd be more likely to let any odd decisions she made slide.

If it gave Jack an extra moment to compose himself… well. He'd take that too.

Furiosa could clearly see what was happening, and to his amusement she shot him a betrayed look. She didn't look too worried, so Jack intentionally busied himself with grabbing their tools.

Furiosa was forced to stand defensively as Valo inched closer, until the warboy’s question hit his ears as if it had been shouted.
Jack practically flinched.

The Praetorian hadn’t been the only one to hear the question though.

Fink, despite being disciplined earlier, was turning out to be most helpful. Jack watched the scene as the warboy swung from his legs at the top of the rig and slapped Valo on the back of the head with surprising agility.

Valo ducked, rubbing his pinkening skin before turning accusatory eyes to his assailant.
“What the fuck was that for, Fink? It’s a good question. Not like you weren’t thinkin’ it too” he argued.

Furiosa, meanwhile, was stock still. Jack eyed her carefully, seeing her jaw muscles flexing. Fink and Valo clearly hadn't noticed her reaction, grappling with each other already as they argued.

She hadn't said anything of real substance to the boys today outside of feral-sounding growls littered with the occasional swear or rare ‘fuck off’, but she seemed to be struck this time.

“Well?” Valo’s voice was muffled as he pried Fink’s grabbing hands off his face and tried again.
“Have you ever had one? A baby?”

Jack made no move to return and instead listened curiously. He did wonder how a full-life like her had wound up in her position, but he'd promised her no questions. His mind strayed briefly to the time he'd heard of a wife who had escaped the vault. Could she be one and the same?

"Idiot" Fink scoffed. His black eye had swollen even further since that morning but he bore it no attention as he dropped to the floor now.
He gestured to Furiosa brazenly, full of confidence. "Her tits are fucking tiny, there's no way she's had a baby. The milk mothers all have giant gazonkers."

To emphasize his point, he threw his arms open wide and mimicked carrying something heavy at his chest, his knees buckling.

Jack only just about managed to play off his laugh as a cough, surprised at the humour dragged out of him. It had been a while since he’d actually laughed. Furiosa, in a surprising show of emotion, just rolled her eyes at the boys.

Jack wasn't surprised, but squashed away the slight disappointment at her non-answer anyway.

As he returned to her, he made his footsteps a little louder than necessary. Valo spun around quickly, an odd look crossing his face as he watched Jack get closer. It only lasted a second before him and Fink scuttled away with a few mumbled sorries.

Valo’s eyes kept slipping back to Jack rather than Furiosa after that. Jack didn't know further questions sat in the boy’s strange brain, and he didn't want to know. Jack determinedly ignored him.

The topic wasn't closed there though, many of the boys had been listening in as snippets of it were bandied around between all the crew, each throwing in their own mostly inane opinions loud enough for Jack and Furiosa to hear. Jack didn’t seem to sense any embarrassment or resentment in Furiosa, who clearly could also hear the ruckus but was simply ignoring it.

No baby, then. . Jack tucked the information away neatly.

Once the soldering was complete, he began turning his gaze away earlier and earlier when he felt she could handle it. Furiosa seemed to realise it after a while, too, that she'd need to earn her place amongst them on her own back.

Inevitably though, one pair of over-curious fingers had strayed a little too close.

Jack had taken his eyes off her for one second too long, and the pained scream that had assaulted his ears had made him spin around immediately, eyes darting for her, fist reaching for his blade.

Instead, he spotted Kino first, one of the quieter warboys… or so he’d thought.
This time Kino was howling, and Jack’s attention gravitated towards his finger hanging by a thread above a rapidly expanding blood pool. On his face, a single red line drew a tattoo along his jawline, red tears spilling from it to join the party below.

It didn't take a detective to follow Kino’s line of sight to Furiosa’s lone, thin figure standing bolt upright on the left of the room.
He couldn't stop himself from examining her for injuries, relaxing a little when there was nothing obvious marring her.

The feeling was short lived however as Jack nearly shivered at the the way her frigid glare stabbed at the boy. The bundle of other boys that had gathered behind Kino shuffled slightly further away, recognising danger. Even Fink had shrunk back a little from her.

Jack was bloody glad he wasn't on the receiving end of that look. He’d had his fair share of glares from her by now, but never as murderous as the one she was giving Kino that second.

Even when she had been pointing a gun directly at his head, Jack realised.

Watching Furiosa’s fingers twist on the bloodied blade, Jack moved to step forward, preparing himself to have to pull her back.

Whatever Kino’s sin, it wasn't Furiosa’s punishment to dole out. It was his burden to bear.

Before his first foot could land, Furiosa leaned forward herself and braced on one knee. Jack’s breath hitched in his throat.

Fuck. He wasn’t fast enough. She was going to slit that boy’s throat right here with his own blade. How the hell was he going to explain that one away when Rictus and Scrotus came digging?

A rare, cold feeling lanced through him and he opened his mouth to call her name, to call the boy’s name, to stop what was obviously going to happen in slow motion-

But it didn't happen.

Furiosa’s taut jaw opened instead, and Jack heard her voice like it was the only sound in the citadel. He was rooted to the spot instantly.

'Don't. Touch. Me.’

Each word she bit out was punctuated by a pregnant pause, her body advancing like a snake with each word. She was a threat, and one that garnered a matching retreat from Kino and the group that had gathered behind him.

Her tone dripped with venom, and her body language relayed who exactly the real prey was.

For a second, Jack was stunned. Then, he took his step forward finally and Furiosa’s neck twisted so fast to him he thought he’d hear the snap.

The tension in him broke and his composure returned immediately, back to the ever level-headed Praetorian. Calm, collected. (His heartbeat pounded viciously in his blood).

Jack raised a solitary eyebrow at her, the picture of self control.

Furiosa pulled herself away from the boy and stalked over to Jack instead, her trajectory moving her towards the rig's underbelly where they had been working moments before. Away from the gruesome scene behind her, back to work as if there was nothing wrong in the world.

Jack scrutinized her, his eyes narrowing.

He’d need to manage this situation carefully. She was clearly avoiding his gaze, but she slowed her steps before passing him anyway.

Furiosa brought herself to a stop just long enough to raise her arm and press the dripping blade flat against Jack’s chest. Her fingers splayed against the leather of his jacket with surprising strength, holding the weapon there before Jack caught it in his own hand moments later.
Her hand slipped away like silk as soon as he steadied he blade, not a single inch of her skin touching his.

Jack hadn't had time to focus on her, ordering Kino to the Organic Mechanic with strict orders to get himself sewn up immediately.
The rest of the boys had scattered like falling pins before he’d even had a chance to turn his authority on them.

Terrified, Jack realised, of Furiosa herself.

She’d shoved herself right back into the rig and gotten back into her work straight after, and he’d not pressed her about the incident.

She’d been the same at first, almost aggressively so. If he hadn't been so attuned to her, he'd have missed it - the slight tremor in her fingers as she wiped the oil grease off on her trousers.

So it had affected her.

She hadn’t even wanted to break for lunch, simply shaking her head when Jack had mentioned getting some more food.

He hadn't questioned her, but had quietly asked one of the boys to bring them back some standard rations. When he’d returned, the boy had left the tray at a distance, unwilling to approach closer to Furiosa who stood at the workbench, face like thunder.

Jack had been far more conscious of his movements after that, very cautious not to touch her at all. She'd had such raw danger in her voice that it had left him almost reeling… His skin pricked, a bit like a hunter moving around a trapped forest. Or, that was how he assumed it would feel. His memory of the old world was very fuzzy now.

His fingers had grazed hers just once after that while handing her a wrench, when she'd been hanging under the rig's belly. A genuine accident, but she had recoiled like a burn victim.

She'd kept working and said nothing but it only hardened his concentration, making his awareness of her simply another part of his routine to become accustomed to. The progress he thought they’d made earlier felt like a distant memory.

By the time Jack called it quits for the day, they were both sweating, his fingers slipping more than once on the engine pump they had been working on.

An exhausted cheer chorused through the room when Jack announced it, Kino’s maiming dispersed from their minds temporarily. The Praetorian only had to haul a few boys back by the scruff of their necks to tidy up their work tools first before he kicked them all out with finality.

Wiping his oily hands on his trousers, Jack turned to Furiosa.

He'd been impressed today. His teaching method was mostly just watching her work things out on her own, but she didn't seem to mind.
In fact, she seemed to relish the opportunity to get things right on her own.

However, the elephant in the room remained.

She was panting lightly, and wiped at the sweat of her forehead with the back of a quick hand.

Jack let himself lean against the workbench, resting his limbs finally.

‘We going to talk about it?’ It wasn't quite a question, but it wasn't a demand either.

Furiosa didn't answer for a moment, a pebble on floor appearing suddenly quite interesting to her before she forced her head up with considerable effort.

‘No.’ She said, turning away.

Jack simply waited, comfortable where he was leaning anyway. He watched her shoulders tense, before she turned back again after just a few seconds.

‘He…’ she started again, struggling for words. ‘He deserved it.’ The vitriol in her seeped out, but it was tainted by something colder.

Jack kept his face clear. ‘I’m sure.’

He could see her battling herself, her eyes darting around the room, landing on each now-empty nook and corner that the boys had occupied earlier. Assuring herself that they weren't here anymore.

After a while, she looked up at the ceiling, but this time her eyes were squeezed shut like she was blocking something out. Like she was in pain.

‘I'm not used to it.’ Furiosa said eventually, but Jack felt her shrink into herself a little as she did.

Suddenly resolved, Jack reached into his pocket and withdrew the knuckleduster blade, freeing the sharp edge with a click. This time her wide eyes shot open, rocketing to him in caution.

A glint of fear caught on the whites of her eyes but she didn't move, waiting to see what he would do.

Jack gave her no time to overthink things as he used his spare hand to pull out wad of fabric from his inner jacket pockets and tossed it lightly towards her.

She caught it instinctively, still focussing on the weapon in his hands but clearly surprised by the fabric unraveling along her forearms and the long thin material hanging down.

Jack held her gaze as he slowly, intentionally, folded the weapon closed and placed it into the outer wide pocket on his thigh.

Confusion began to trickle onto Furiosa’s face now, the fear being replaced but Jack kept moving, pulling out another pair of fabric strips and wrapping the first around his palm, covering his knuckles and wrists. He pulled the straps taut, securing them with a knot before starting on his other hand. Her eyes never left him but she weighed the fabric in her own palms, thumbing the worn material. The same as his, torn from the same cloth.

He could tell she’d mostly figured out where this was going now.

‘Put them on.’ Jack gestured to the wraps she clutched in her bare hands, before closing the pocket he’d dropped the weapon into. He tugged his heavy jacket off, placing it neatly onto the side before facing her again.

Time to revisit the first lesson he’d tried to teach her. He took on a fighting stance, hands raised defensively in front of his chest.

‘Now come get your blade.’

Jack briefly wondered if this was a smart idea, but the sight of Furiosa suddenly winding the wraps tightly around her fists with a blazing flame in her eyes banished any regret from him immediately.

He took a breath.

She leapt at him.

Chapter Text

The floor beneath her feet disappeared faster than she expected as she burst towards him, her brain already mapping the positioning of his fists at his chest.

Jack’s form began moving faster than she’d realised though, shifting a leg back as his whole body twisted out of her way before she could even comprehend his motion.

Shit. She’d launched her attack from too far away, given him too much time to react.
Her balled fist whistled past his shoulder and Furiosa grit her teeth at the lost satisfaction of contact. Recovering quickly, she planted her feet and ducked, expecting a return swing from him.
Instead, as she looped around she spotted him simply standing, the corner of his lip upturned slightly. He made no move to retaliate.

Prick.

She spun again, throwing a low punch at his abdomen but he somehow avoided her for a second time. The third attempt was no better, nor was the fourth, shifting away at the last moment and never letting her touch him at all. He slid like air through her fingers every time.

As the minutes passed, Furiosa was feeling herself getting increasingly wrought with frustration. She hadn't even grazed him once. His range was so much further than hers, his agility unnerving for how broad he was.

After she’d thrown herself one forward more time, this time not even coming close, she slid to a stop. She let herself stay facing away from him momentarily, her breathing coming hard with the exertion. After each failed attempt he’d simply wait, observing her, waiting for her to try again.

After a second, Furiosa shook herself, taking a longer moment to catch her breath.

This time, his voice called to her. ‘Again.’

Furiosa spun back round immediately, catching his eye. There was no humour in his features, no mocking tone to his voice. She forced herself back into it, rising to the challenge.

After a few more missed punches she changed tact, and dove for his thigh; for the pocket he had stowed away the blade in.

If Jack was surprised by the move, he recovered quickly. Furiosa's fingers managed to graze the pocket this time, but the tip of her short nails didn't quite catch before Jack slid his foot back and away as he dodged, removing it once more from her grasp. The chains on his Praetorian belt clanged, swinging from where it was hoisted low on his hips.

He moved with such fluidity, such a calm non-urgency that Furiosa felt herself becoming more and more irritable in comparison.

Furiosa hadn't been angry at him before, she’d tried to be rational about everything… but now the frustration and bitterness she’d had to keep in check all day swelled in her.
She’d been poked and prodded all like a bear in a cage, the boys digging in with their stupid, endless questions, and Jack had just stood there. Stood there and bloody watched.

A tiny voice inside her appealed that judgement, knew it wasn’t quite true, but it was as if Furiosa couldn't hear it at all.

She'd had enough. She missed home. She missed her mother, she missed the quiet, the wild comfort of the green place. Not having to watch her back every moment, every fucking five SECONDS.

She turned her furious glare on him, burning up inside.

This time when Furiosa launched herself at Jack, hands curled into claws, there was no plan at all. Just violence.

Which, in retrospect, was probably why she now lay gasping on the solid floor.

She wheezed, the wind knocked out of her entirely as a light pain lanced up her spine. Jack had easily turned the fight, but this time instead of just dodging out of her way he had swung out his leg, catching her ankles with a solid kick.
It had pulled her feet out from under her and she’d landed hard, unable to stop the gasp of air forced out of her lungs.

The floor was cold now, the hot air of the day finally giving way to the evening chill.

Coughing up dust, Furiosa felt inside herself to gather up the rage she had exploded with, but it leached out of her unwillingly, dissipating quicker into the blackened ground than she could muster it. Wincing, she felt along her body mentally. She was bruised, but thankfully nothing was injured badly. She lifted her head slightly and let it hit back into the floor in frustration, the taste of pain soothing her rising embarrassment.

The vibrations of Jack’s approaching boots on the floor ran up Furiosa’s arms. She gripped herself together and sat up forcefully, scrabbling to regain a semblance of her pitiful self pride.

Jack stopped his advance when moved, and she met his eye regretfully. She waited, expecting to see the disappointment that would lay waste to her… but it didn't come.

He was like an empty space, a blank page waiting to be written on.

He didn't offer her a hand to get up, just waited patiently for her to piece herself back together on her own. The wasteland held no place for pity, and Jack seemed to hold no expectation of her at all.

When she stood and faced him again, the only hint of something in his expression was when she caught his eye lingering on her ankle. The one he’d injured when he’d pushed her out of the rig; the same one he had just tripped her up on.

Furiosa narrowed her eyes. It didn't make sense for him to feel guilty about injuring her, that wouldn’t be it. Was he examining her weaknesses?

The ankle still pained her, but the swelling had gone down significantly overnight, and it bore her weight well enough now. To demonstrate, she shifted back into a fighting stance, sliding the foot in question to the front as she raised her fists. She tensed her muscles experimentally, determination lacing her back up again. She wouldn’t be stopped that easily.
This time, it was her who called for the fight to resume.

‘Again.’

Jack’s face had the faintest ghost of a smile before his features rearranged themselves into that practiced emptiness again. This time, however, his stance was wider, a heavier defensive.

Was that his version of an acknowledgement?

Pulling on the part of her that relished the challenge, Furiosa pushed herself towards him once more.

----------------------

When they next broke apart, Furiosa was breathing heavily, sweat evaporating from the sweltering heat of her skin. The thin cotton Jack wore clung to him tightly, visible without his usual heavy jacket.
It gave her no small satisfaction to see Jack’s chest heaving as well, even if he disguised it better than she was able to.

In the last half an hour she’d actually managed to force him to block several times rather than just dodge, and she ran a palm over her own knuckles. The feel of his solid forearms blocking her had been strangely gratifying, even if she felt the soreness blossoming now.

The pain she felt was a measure of small success, of her slow improvement beckoning her on.

Somehow, it wasn't too bad if her waistband where she had been storing the knuckleduster blade was still empty. The poignant lump on Jack’s right thigh still taunted her, but the rage from earlier had lost its grip on her now.

The sounds of shifting material pulled her attention back to Jack and Furiosa watched him move to lean his shoulder against the wall. He had slowly begun unravelling his hand wraps.

Looking up at her, his forehead was creased but as he caught her eye he seemed… pleased? Furiosa straightened up instinctively.

‘That’s it for today. We’ll pick this back up again soon.’ Jack said calmly, echoing none of the rushing high that still ran through Furiosa’s veins.

The disappointment that he was ending the session cut her stronger than she’d been expecting, but it was mollified a little at the implication of a repeat.

Pouring out her rage had been cathartic, a necessary release after all that had happened that day. A tinge of embarrassment tried to colour her skin but Furiosa refused to feel it.

She shouldn't feel ashamed of who she was, especially not because of this man or what he thought of her. He was her means to an end, and to him she was…Hmm.

Well, she didn’t know the answer to that yet.

What she did know was that she wanted to train with him again. She needed to.

The pump of her worn muscles was leaving her now, the sweat drying cold. Furiosa didn't bother to repress the shiver that ran across her flesh.

She couldn't deny it, her body screamed for it - muscles she’d not been able to use properly in years beginning to ache already. She'd not felt so… so free in a long time.

Furiosa let her head hang back briefly, her tangled hair brushing the backs of her elbows. She didn’t trust herself not to stare at Jack as he unravelled the fabric from his hands.
He’d known she’d needed this sparring session too, it was a little unnerving how he’d begun to read her.

Even if just for a short moment, he'd helped let her loose, unwound the chains of this citadel only for her to realise how tight they had been before.
That wasn't to say it hadn't bothered her how much better he was at this. When she had hidden herself as a dogman, it didn't feel bad to fail. Now, unveiled of her mask and forced back out into the open… she felt underwhelming.

Furiosa dusted off her trousers lightly, biding her time.

Jack was a step above her on the ladder, physically, metaphorically, whichever way Furiosa wanted to look at it.

But gods be damned, she wanted to level that playing field. Step out of his shadow and to his side.

So you can get out of here, her brain drummed in. She waved the thought away, not needing the reminder. Obviously that was her goal.

‘Tomorrow?’ Furiosa called to Jack, trying to calm her rushing blood. She wouldn’t sound desperate, wouldn’t let him know how riled up she was.

Give him nothing, Furiosa told herself. Nothing he can use against you.

Jack looked up at her from the wad of fabric he was neatly folding. He nodded, unphased by her request.

‘Yeah. We’ve got a couple days before we’re due back on the road. Right now, I don't know about you, but I'm starved.’ he replied casually.

Furiosa glanced over at the two packs of rations on the workbench rack, dropped off by a nervous war boy earlier but both still left untouched. She’d been so consumed with her own safety, with keeping herself in check that she hadn't noticed he’d not eaten his portion earlier either.

Furiosa didn't have a chance to mull over it for longer as Jack pulled himself away from the wall and moved towards her. Furiosa quickly unknotted her own hand wraps, holding them out towards him. Instead, Jack just blinked at her, and made no move to take them back.

‘Keep ‘em. They're yours now.’

Furiosa swallowed, forcing herself to stop running her fingers over the material as she shoved them into a spare pocket.

Jack took a moment as if thinking, then reached into his pocket and pulled out the blade. He held it out deliberately, gripping the blade end and extending the handle towards her. The blood from earlier was gone, the weapon as gleaming it had been when she’d stolen it from him that first day. Furiosa couldn't take her eyes off it as it rested on the wide span of his calloused palm.

When she didn't immediately take the weapon, too caught up in her tumultuous thoughts, he moved even closer and held it directly in front of her this time.

‘Keep this as well’ his voice was a little gruffer this time, and he ran his other hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head lightly.

‘Just…’ he paused and Furiosa’s ears pricked.
‘Just try not to kill my crew with it. Alright?’

Jack stood close, but it didn't bother her as much as she expected it to. Her brain was all over the place. It didn't seem right, but her senses told her that if Jack wanted to hurt her, he’d have done it by now.

He’d certainly had enough opportunity to do so.

Furiosa forced herself to move and took the blade from his hand, slipping it back into her waistband. The weight was comforting, a sudden reprieve from a loss she didn't know had affected her quite so much.

What was she supposed to think that he’d just handed it back to her? She’d almost begun to want to fight him for it. To prove she could. To feel the embers in her reignite again.

Jack stood silently, but she could feel the expectation sitting between them. He wanted something back from her. Her agreement.

Furiosa eyed him carefully.

‘I won’t stop defending myself’ she stated, her tone argumentative as she met his eyes.

His face was unyielding as he replied.
‘That's not what I meant.’

Furiosa knew exactly what he meant. She really had come within a wheelspan of spilling the rest of that boy’s blood on the floor earlier.

She’d only managed to stop herself when she’d caught sight of Jack, his arm outstretched towards her and a fleeting expression of dread on his usually calm face. He’d made her realise right then that if she hadn’t stopped, there’d be no coming back.

The memory trailed its way up her spine. The feeling of that warboy’s fingers gripping her collar, cold nails skimming the back of her neck had shocked her. No, it had terrified her, Furiosa admitted to herself.

How had she allowed herself to let her guard down like that?
Against her better instincts, she had strayed a little further from Jack's side. She’d begun to feel like it was a false sense of protection she got from him, didn't like what being next to him was slowly doing to her.

How foolish she had been. How pathetic she felt.

Furiosa scoffed aloud, unwilling to acknowledge Jack's point, but the steel that lay in his eyes gave her pause for thought. She settled for a scowl instead; anything to muffle the terror that begged for her to remember it.

Jack turned and skimmed the room, checking the perimeter. Echoes of excitable voices bounced down the entangled corridors but none seemed to be getting closer.

Once he satisfied himself that they wouldn't be overheard, Jack stepped in, his voice lowering to a murmur anyway.

‘I get it.’ he started, before shaking his head slightly, a frustrated growl escaping his lips. Not what he had meant.

‘I see it. You have about you a purposeful savagery. I've no doubt it's why you're still here today.’ Jack’s words felt like they were wrapping around her throat, but he continued relentlessly.

‘But, if you let it go uncontrolled and you kill one of our own, even I won't be able to pull you from Joe’s wrath.’

He examined her closely before sighing wearily and finally taking a step back, leaning on his heels and tucking his hands into his jacket.

‘Whatever mirage you're seeking out there in the desert, I'm sure you'd prefer to be alive to go chasing it again one day. I can’t protect you if you sabotage yourself first.’

Furiosa instinctively stiffened at the barest mention of her secret, but she forced herself to settle. She hated it, but she knew he was right. She let the silence wind between them for a moment, before she pushed herself to speak.

‘What of the warboy?’ her voice came out as a crackle, dying embers in a burned-out fire.

Jack tilted his head, his dark forehead angling towards her.

‘That’s your decision. I’ll respect your choice.’

Furiosa didn’t let her surprise show. She fought the urge to smooth the back of her collar down, and took her time before replying.

‘...He stays.’

At Jack’s raised eyebrow, she scowled at him again. She’d need to face the boy again sooner or later, and whether she wanted to admit it or not, she’d rather have Jack behind her when she did. Begrudgingly, she conceded the point.

‘I won’t kill him.’

She’d intended it to come out snappish, but a tension in Jack’s shoulders released almost instantly.

‘Thank fuck.’ he declared, and Furiosa could only watch him in a daze as he sparked back into action, pulling back on his jacket fluidly and flipping the collar down.

‘Now let’s get something to eat.’

Chapter Text

The hours passed. The hunger in Furiosa’s stomach had been slightly abated at their last meal, but something different stirred in her now.

Her eyes continued to watch the Praetorian closely.

It was as if he was pretending nothing had changed at all.

Tailing Jack through the corridors back to the bunks, Furiosa wanted to pretend she felt nothing too. It would be easier that way: to go back to slowly crawling through life, letting the blanket of survival tie her down and stop her feeling anything at all.

It's harder to miss what you don't remember, one of the mothers had told her once.

It wouldn't happen though, she couldn't forget it.

Some spark had been lit in her earlier, a flame ignited through the contact of her fists against his arms, the pumping of hot blood and sweat off her skin as she had fought him.

It had been years of struggling to slowly move forward, inch by inch stretching to her goal. Now, that tiny taste of living beyond just survival had almost ruined her.
The call of The Green Place, of freedom had never felt so strong. It felt like the memory of her life before was resurfacing after remaining buried for an age.

She relived the feeling again and again in her head, both unwanted and irresistible at the same time. She should be strong enough after these years to put it out of her mind, put her head down and work through it. She would get to live again when she returned home.

It would be enough.

Except…

Furiosa knew it wasn’t just her.

She’d seen the way the Praetorian’s eyes had lit up, the way he’d almost-but-not-quite smiled when she’d managed to actually catch him off guard during their spar.
When she’d forced him to physically stop her, not just dance out of the way, she was sure she’d recognised the gleam in his eye.

Hell, she had the proof in the soreness of her knuckles.
Thumbing her arm, Furiosa adjusted her jacket. She hadn't been able to stop herself stealing glimpses of a darkening bruise on his tanned arm when his sleeve had ridden up at dinner.

Yet, the second they’d stopped sparring, the minute that fabric binding his fists had come off, he’d cooled off again. That straight-laced facade had settled back in seemingly easily, impervious to her piercing gaze once more.

Where had it gone? How did he tuck this feeling away so neatly, like he wasn’t living some double life?

She’d thought that expressionless armour he wore was just his personality before.
Even with glimpses of that tiredness behind his eyes, the strange unspoken apologies when he’d made her uncomfortable - she’d thought those were the falsities, a ploy to get her to drop her guard.

Now… now she wasn't so sure.

Furiosa knew it should unnerve her, realising she knew so little about him, but instead it drove her curiosities up the wall.

Don’t, her brain screamed at her, but it was distant. Easily ignorable.

As the corridor widened again, Furiosa slipped back next to his side, taking up the newly available space. She felt him shift a little to give her more room.

Glancing up at him, he gave her a small nod of acknowledgement, face unreadable.

The Praetorian bunk was quickly approaching now, and Furiosa found she didn't dread it as much as yesterday - even if her fingers still sought the comfort of her blade. The nights still weren't going to come easy, but she had a lot to think about this time.

As they got closer, a familiar grating voice from inside suddenly sent ice into her veins.

A voice she’d been desperately avoiding since she escaped the vault those long years ago.

Fuck.

Furiosa immediately slowed her steps. By luck or fate, she’d managed to avoid attracting that voice’s attention when she had been presented to Immortan Joe before.

The monster of a man, whom Furiosa hated more than the ruler himself - Rictus Erectus.

When the Immortan had summoned her to him, Furiosa had been horrified to see Rictus in the chamber as well. He had been examining her with that childlike curiosity he had, but it had been at a distance.

When she had been dismissed, Jack had thankfully whisked her out of the room as soon as he could, and Rictus hadn't followed them.

Furiosa hadn’t seen any spark of recognition in his eyes then, but there was no way being put face to face with him now was going to be a good thing.

Stealing a glance at Jack, his stiff posture confirmed her fears even further. Rictus didn't come here normally… this wasn't just a social visit.

Furiosa’s cheek caught between her teeth and she tasted blood, begging her brain to come up with something quickly. The ground she stood on felt like it was going to crumble.

The memory of his huge hands unclasping the chastity belt from her un-grown body suddenly halted her feet in their steps entirely. Jack caught on straight away, looking over his shoulder at her in question.

Furiosa’s breath hitched.

“Gotta piss.” She mumbled, just about catching Jack’s nod before she turned on her heels and bolted back round the bend in the corridor.
Despite his clearly uncertain expression, Jack didn’t follow her, and Furiosa thanked the mothers for the small blessing.

The shadows enveloped her, and she pulled her hood up over her hair again. It was easier than she had expected to slip back into her anonymous ways, and the nooks and crannies of the rocky walls embraced her.

Furiosa didn’t go far, just deep enough to reach one of her hidden crawl spaces which she promptly tucked herself into, drawing the crates in front closer to block it back off again.

Alone in the comforting darkness, she let her rushing blood calm down. Spaces like this had been her sanctuary before, and the familiarity was welcome.

She knew she’d have to face Rictus properly at some point, but the old History Man’s words echoed in her brain.

Become invaluable. She knew it would come eventually, but she wasn't there yet.

Realistically, if Rictus decided it was worth outing himself as the reason Immortan Joe’s child wife had gone missing years ago… Furiosa didn't want to think about it.

A flicker of Jack’s face appeared in her thoughts, but Furiosa dismissed him immediately with a bitter taste in her mouth.

He’d said he’d protect her, sure, but there was no way he would put himself in the firing line for some chit he’d picked up on the road. No matter the ‘purposeful savagery’ he saw in her.

A sigh clawed at her insides, and she let it free. She was focusing too much on this man. The bruises on her skin were still warm, but the feeling had drained back and reality began to bubble back up instead.

Minutes passed however, and the coolness of the rock face began doing its job - Furiosa’s heart rate slowed gradually. Taking a deep breath, she settled in and listened intently.

It could have been about half an hour, maybe less - Furisoa had no way to tell really. Nonetheless, the hairs of her arms standing to attention was the first sign of what she had been waiting for.

She’d learned to recognise his footsteps a long time ago, out of sheer necessity. Rictus was an almost seven foot monstrosity; his heavy boots hit the floor bullishly, and he was accompanied by the unmistakable sound of dramatic armour and heavy buckles scraping loudly. Furiosa silently tucked herself closer into the tight space, willing the darkness to conceal her as he neared.

She’d slip back out to the bunks once he’d gone past, and push that problem to another day.

Listening to Rictus' approach now, goosebumps raised in her flesh. Furiosa quickly realised that she had been right to wait him out - he was talking to someone, and he wasn’t happy.

‘-I don’t care, Praetorian. Next time she acts out, you bring her to me.’ Rictus spoke bluntly, the dissatisfaction evident in his tone. Furiosa could almost picture his half-witted face creasing in displeasure.

A second pair of footsteps, lighter but still solid and sure, followed the first. Furiosa’s uneasiness rose as she strained to catch every word, keenly aware they were talking about her.

‘As I said, she wasn’t acting out.’ The second voice was surprisingly argumentative, considering they were speaking to the Immortan’s son.

Was that… Jack?

The footsteps hammering the floor were about to continue right past her and Furiosa held her breath. Her luck had apparently run out, however, as the boots suddenly stopped barely a meter from her crawlspace. The crates blocked her crawlspace from their sight, but if anything knocked them she’d likely be spotted immediately.

Furiosa’s stomach plummeted as she heard Rictus turn around abruptly to face Jack.

‘Don’t get cocky. Just because Dad is giving you a turn with her now doesn’t mean you can’t share her.’ Rictus retorted, sounding far too like a child on the verge of a tantrum.

A chill ran down her spine. Furiosa had seen far too many of Rictus’ tantrums, and the end result was usually anything but childish.

‘She’s my apprentice, Rictus. She stays on the rig.’

Furiosa squeezed her eyes shut, hating the fear building in her. She hadn’t missed the way Jack had punctuated the word ‘my’. What was he doing, was he really such an idiot? Didn’t he know not to challenge this man?

A charged silence filled the corridor and the cold feeling in her chest seized her. She could already picture the titanic weight of Rictus crushing Jack’s bones in an instant.

Furiosa struggled to keep her breathing quiet, but all she could think was how she would be left in this grisly nightmare, alone, again-

Rictus’ exasperated huff interrupted her from her spiral.

‘You’re lucky I like you. She must be good if you want to keep her that badly.’ Rictus grumbled. There was no mistaking his meaning, his tone overtly suggestive.

Jack took a beat to reply, but his voice was unexpectedly hollow when he did. ‘She is.’

The heavy pair of footsteps picked up and began to move away again slowly. Rictus’s words echoed back towards her, flippant. ‘If you get bored, I’ll still take her. But if I hear of her again Jack…’

Furiosa couldn't move.

‘-I'll put her in her place myself.’ The danger in Rictus’s voice was matter of fact, and there was no reply from the Praetorian this time.

Furiosa let the sound of thudding boots disappear out of earshot before her eyes flew open. She couldn’t stop the heat flooding her, the cold fear finally ebbing only to give way to mortification and anger.

I will not be treated like a thing to be used. Furiosa bristled outwardly, her fists clenching… but she knew it was all posture. Empty anger that she would never be able to act on.

The stars tattooed on her forearm throbbed. She was here to keep her head down and leave silently, to escape this hell. Unlike the warboys, she would have no-one to witness her.

No one, she realised, except Jack.

Furiosa hesitated, the silence loud in the cramped space. Slowly, she strained her ears again - the realisation setting in that she’d only heard one pair of boots leaving.

Jack stood still in the settling dust, unmoving from where Rictus had left him. A deep inhale broke the silence, and Furiosa couldn’t miss the slight shake in the exhale that came after. The last remaining pair of boots turned and strode back towards the bunk.

Furiosa swallowed, letting her head lie back against the wall again and her eyes close softly this time. The corridor had emptied, and the dry air in the crawlspace was beginning to feel suffocating now, but Furiosa stayed anyway.

Why did he have to put himself on the damn line for her?

Furiosa’s body wouldn’t settle. Her skin was still warmed from the hot flush of anger, and she let her fingertips gently rub her forearms, slowly pulling back sensation into her stilled limbs.

Why did he keep doing it? It wasn't even the first time, and this had almost certainly been several times more effort than she was worth to him by now. It troubled her.

Is that why, Furiosa wondered, He won't leave my thoughts?

Every time she tried to clear her mind, that same moment screamed back into her memory. His piercing eyes facing down the barrel of her gun… The sun beating down as he offered her the secrets to road war, like she hadn’t just threatened to leave him for dead.

It wasn't much longer before Furiosa shimmied out of her crawlspace as quietly as she could, shaking sensation back into the rest of her body. The blood returned to her limbs agonisingly slowly.

She felt like she owed him. That must be it.

There was no obligation in the citadel, it was each man for his own… but Furiosa wasn’t born in the citadel. There were some things that even several years of apocalyptic waste couldn't drill out of her.
The ways of the many mothers would be lost on those here, but if it would at least calm her restlessness then she would follow how she was taught.

Jack’s footprints in the dust were still visible, and Furiosa picked up after them. She found her resolve came easily as she took the path back.

No harm would come to the Praetorian Jack that she could prevent. She’d keep him safe, as he did for her, even if it was just so she could get out of here alive and keep her conscience soothed.

Furiosa would give him no reason to question her worth as his apprentice, she would play her role perfectly.

If he wants to be allies… Furiosa tensed, the word unfamiliar. Then so be it.

She sighed. She didn't have the excuse of needing to test him anymore… It wasn't like he hadn't proven himself to her, even when he wasn't aware she was watching. That counted for something, surely.

The voices from the bunk echoed louder with every step she took, and Furiosa felt heat creeping up her neck again. It wasn't just allies, was it though? Rictus’s words crawled over her skin, the implication of her and Jack…

Even if she decided to be all well and good working with him, the citadel clearly took a different view on their partnership.

She had a part to play. Furiosa grit her teeth, knowing that how well she survived from here on depended on how well she could convince others of her… relationship… with Jack.

Her footsteps wavered.

If the others thought she was fair game, her life here would be hell. The wives in the vault had told her enough of their obligations when she had stayed with them, trying to prepare her for when it would eventually be her turn. She’d seen it happening as well, the women in Dementus’s crew using their bodies as bargaining chips, unashamed of who saw or heard them.

Back in the Green Place, her own mother had told her briefly about sex and about love - but she’d been young, and in any case Furiosa was sure none of what happened here was love.

The wives were kind but they were hardened and they did not mince their words either. They'd known Furiosa would only suffer if she wasn't prepared properly. Here, it was all pain and vulnerability, a job to put out and provide - and Furiosa was repulsed.

The thought of letting any person touch her like that made her gut roil.

You only need to convince, Furiosa. No more.

She shook herself lightly, trying to dispel the discomfort with distraction. Pushing herself forward instead, the orange lamplight glow of the Praetorian bunk came into view. The evening had drifted on, and darkness was settling in finally.

Rounding the last corner, Furiosa slunk in quietly, thankfully not attracting much attention. Most of the men in the room were already lying in bed or otherwise speaking between themselves quietly.

Most, except Jack. The Praetorian sat on his bedroll facing the door.

He spotted her almost immediately.

Crap.

Her hazy excuse when she’d darted away before wasn't her best, but the look in Jack’s eyes was odd. She thought he’d had an expression of relief when he’d seen her, but it disappeared too quickly for her to be sure.

Unfortunately, Furiosa hadn't managed to completely banish her previous thoughts yet, and although she knew Jack couldn't read her thoughts, embarrassment flushed her nonetheless. She pulled her jacket closer around her.

He’d clearly been waiting for her, and she had the decency to speed up her steps towards their little claimed corner.

That was as much decency as she’d offer though. She wasn't going to sit and make excuses just because they were now allies.

She took a seat on her bed, facing him but preoccupying herself with adjusting her boots. He turned to continue following her with his eyes, but she found she couldn't meet his gaze.

It was nothing to do with the embarrassment under her skin, nor how her mind flew straight to the memory of Jack’s breath on her neck as he pressed her into the wall.

Furiosa pressed her fingernails harder than necessary into her calf as she pulled on her laces.

When Jack realised she wasn't going to speak first, he sighed and leant forward, voice low so as not to be easily overheard.

Furiosa just about managed to stop herself flinching at his proximity.

‘Next time you decide to take a 45 minute piss, a heads up would be good.’ Jack spoke a little gruffly, but Furiosa could definitely hear the relief hidden in his voice. A sliver of guilt played at her, and she cooled down a bit. She’d not actually intended to worry him, but there was no way she could tell him about Rictus without revealing how she came to be in the citadel.

‘Probably for the best though. Rictus came looking for you. We’ll need to be careful about him.’

Furiosa kept her eyes down studiously, but she could feel him examining her. She didn't know what gave her away, but she couldn’t help but look up when she heard him inhale, and slowly run a hand across the stubble on his jaw.

‘But you already knew that, I see.’

It wasn't an accusation, he’d actually said it with a hint of surprise, but it soon morphed into grim confirmation when Furiosa automatically stiffened. She chided herself internally for being so obvious to him.

Jack didn't say anything for a moment, and Furiosa dreaded what he’d say next. Every time he set that perceptive gaze on her, the fear he’d figure out her past worsened.

She just wanted to get into bed, didn't even care about the layer of grime, oil and sweat sticking to her if it meant stopping Jack focusing on her.

Instead, he surprised her by leaning back and seemingly ending the conversation himself. Furiosa couldn't help glancing over at him, and he shrugged.

‘No questions asked, right? Get some sleep.’

Furiosa couldn't help but watch as he laid back and pulled that threadbare red blanket over his legs.

Not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, Furiosa did the same. Settling down for another long night gripping her blade, Furiosa quietened her brain and prepared for a fitful night of half-sleep.

Sleep didn't come easy, but this time the only nightmares that plagued her were the ones Jack scared away from the bunk entrance.

Chapter Text

The night hadn't been too eventful, and Furiosa found herself conflictingly thankful for Rictus’s suprise visit the day before.

Whatever discussion - or more likely argument - he’d had with Jack in the bunk had meant none of the other Praetorians even threw a passing glance at her today. It seemed they didn't care to invoke Rictus’s legendary temper like Jack did.

When they got to the war rig, the boys had cooled off a bit with their questions too. They were still clearly wary of her after the Kino incident, all except for Fink who didn't seem to care either way and continued to bother Furiosa with the same, if not even more inane questions.

Jack had made an offhand comment that he must be stupider than they’d taken him for, but Furiosa suspected he was just happy to not be the only one to have suffered an injury because of her. He’d fared a lot better, after all, and his eye was already healing well.

It certainly didn't impede his mouth’s ability to spew more swears than Furiosa had ever heard in her life. She’d briefly thought someone had been murdered earlier when he had dropped his welding torch into the rig’s second engine.

Most importantly, he made no attempts to touch her, which in her mind put him at the top of her list. Furiosa at least knew what Fink was thinking, unlike some of the other boys who stole longing looks at her when they thought she wasn't watching.

Instead of paying attention to them, Furiosa had thrown herself hard into her work again.

The day went much the same as it had before, struggling to hide her inexperience from Jack who watched on carefully. She could fix so many parts of the rig blindfolded - after all she’d been on the original build crew. Despite that, infuriatingly, Jack somehow managed to pick the few tasks she had either never attempted, or struggled with every time.

She couldn't prove he was doing it intentionally, but it was absolutely not helping her prove she was worth his time.

When she did finally have to admit defeat with a task she didn't know, she had stood aside and tried not to glower while Jack had easily shown her. Nonetheless, she appreciated that he would quietly give her an opportunity to try out the new skills herself afterwards.

Their partnership was surprisingly… easy, Furiosa realised after a while. He didn't expect her to talk, seemingly comfortable in their silence. He didn’t fill it with his own chatter, and yet she found she understood what he was thinking anyway. Somehow, it just worked.

Furiosa had begun to predict his next moves on a few occasions now, and although the first times he had hesitated and had double checked her choices, he was beginning to trust her decisions slowly more and more.

Jack never drew attention to it, but every time he didn’t check her work, Furiosa couldn’t help the pleasant chill that ran over her. However, it wasn’t hard to get over it quickly.

Keeping the rig in shape was only one tiny part of her full role here, and she wasn’t bold enough to assume she’d work well with Jack on everything… no matter how effective they'd been when they'd first met on the Fury road.

Now that she'd accepted Jack as an ally, it made it easier to rationalise that day on the rig. She'd flowed like an unstoppable river, and Jack had directed her with ruthless efficiency. They’d taken unspoken cues from each other, between them taking out over a dozen Mortifiers coming from every angle. She could see it still in Jack when she watched him examine a problem, he was quick and level headed and rarely caught off-guard. Perfect for the job.

Probably why he has the reputation he does, Furiosa reflected.

Settling back on her haunches, she wiped her forearm against her head, pushing back the stray hairs that had peeled out of her tied knot. They’d almost finished their second repair day, and tomorrow promised that they'd be back out there. Back on the Fury Road.

Furiosa stole a glance at Jack, who had propped himself on the floor against one of the workbenches. He’d pulled out an oil filter and was thumbing it lightly in his hands, the grease almost entirely covering him today. It had been a messy one, and he clearly had no aversion to getting stuck in with the crew. The final touches on the rig, Furiosa had learned, included replacing the oil and regreasing the battle mechanisms in order to test them.

Looking down at her own arms, large swatches of black coated them, a distinct dirty line where her work gloves ended. She had ended up taking off her jacket to save a cleaning job later, but thankfully her tattoo was camouflaged by the dark smears. She really didn’t fancy fending off any questions about it.

Grimly rubbing at a particularly dark patch of her skin that prickled under her touch, Furiosa examined her restlessness. She disliked feeling unclean, but that wasn't really the main source of her discomfort. As the day had worn on, she had gotten more and more unsettled.

In all honesty, the prospect of being back on the road made her anxious. To leave the citadel, only to have to come back again and again - and voluntarily - it went against so much inside her. She knew she would survive, that much wasn't a choice, but she wavered anyway.

Jack, on the other hand, displayed nothing other than that characteristic calm, authoritative focus.

Not for the first time today, Furiosa wondered what really went on inside his head. His brow was furrowed slightly as he examined the issue in his hands, and she could almost see the cogs turning inside him as he worked out how best to solve the problem.

Unwilling to get lost staring at him, which Furiosa found annoyingly easy, she stood up and moved to the workbench under the guise of grabbing a cleaning rag. Although she could tell Jack had noticed, he didn't look up from his component.

When she was facing away from him, she pulled off a glove and let her bare hand slip into the leather pocket of her jacket. Her fingers immediately sought the rough, torn fabric of the wristwraps from yesterday. Furiosa craved what the end of their work today would signal.

She didn't linger. Jack was far too perceptive for that, and she didn't want to draw his attention. Nonetheless, as soon as she’d let go and turned back, the absence of the cotton on her fingertips was plain. The glove was shoved back on unceremoniously.

Deciding it was better to focus on work like Jack was, she brought herself back over to him. She’d tried to repair the oil filter herself earlier, hence her filthy arms, but it was a fiddly little thing and she couldn't figure it out. Frustratingly, she’d had to defer to his experience.

Originally, she hadn't thought that the Praetorians would have a mechanic’s knowledge, they all seemed far too high and mighty for that… but Jack had thrown all her expectations so far. Everyone had to work up from somewhere, she guessed.

Her mind wandered. Was that what Jack’s story was?

Dismissing the thought to instead look around, Furiosa noticed most of the warboys had begun slacking a little, sensing the end of the workday drawing near. Jack had left them to it, most tasks nearly finished anyway - the rig gleamed in the low amber sunlight streaming through the hollow windows. Raucous laughter bounced off the walls from the other side of the rig, and a couple more boys’ attention seemed to be drawn in. Currently, none seemed to be caring what Furiosa was up to, which worked for her just fine.

Sitting down opposite Jack, Furiosa placed herself a little closer than she would normally. The mechanism he was working on was small, and she told herself she wanted to catch the details of his fix better.

Still a respectable distance, Furiosa assured herself.

Jack didn't acknowledge her physically. Instead, Furiosa caught an unusual grumble from him as he hunched over to peer deeper into the innards of the device.

‘I’ve figured the bloody thing out, finally.’ Jack announced, but his words didn't match his tone. He was clearly unhappy.
He held the rounded box out, angling the opened section towards her so she could see. Furiosa tilted her head, looking at the miniature mechanics framed by Jack’s leatherbound fingers.

‘The relief spring is buggered. It’s bent, catching on the bypass valve and is pulling it out of place. Problem is, I can’t get the damned thing out.’

Jack was still for a moment, eyeing the device and contemplating what to try next, before he looked up at her.

Furiosa dodged his eye and continued looking at the metal for a minute. Slowly, she pinched the tip of her work glove and pulled it off one hand.

His eyes tracked her movement, and he offered the device to her without a word. She reached out, taking the filter from his open palm and he leaned back on his elbows to watch whatever she intended to try.

His face had lit curiously, and Furiosa didn't miss the way his sight fixed on her hands. She felt a bit of pressure settle in, and did her best to ignore him.

Turning her attention back to the filter, she dug her fingers into its metal belly. Without the gloves she had just enough wiggle room to push deeper and hook the offending coil under the tip of a finger.
It was a delicate process extracting it, and although it started well, Furiosa felt the jagged metal edge of the outer plate catch the back of her wrist as she began to withdraw her hand.

Unwilling to drop the coil and lose it entirely, Furiosa grit her teeth and moved slower, minimising the damage to her skin. She knew they didn't have another easy access filter, so if she fucked this one up she’d end up delaying their sparring session until they cobbled a working one together. That wasn't going to happen if she could stop it.

She almost managed to get the coil out without breaking her skin, but at the last second the piece caught on something, jerking her hand unstably. Furiosa breathed out a hiss as she wrenched it out, feeling more than seeing the inch-long cut marring the back of her hand.

It was only a skin-deep injury and Furiosa went to conceal it instinctively, but she hadn’t moved fast enough. Instead, she watched in slow-motion as Jack’s eyes widened. He leant back, grabbing a mostly clean rag before moving directly towards her, clearly intending to press it against the wound and stem the minor bleeding.

Moments before he touched her, he pivoted as if suddenly changing his mind, and held the cloth out to her instead. The action was awkward, and as Furiosa took it Jack's arm fell limply to his side again.

Lifting her own hand, she pressed the cloth to it carefully and felt the light sting of pain. She hadn’t moved when she’d watched Jack get closer, even knowing what he was going to do…Her own reaction surprised her.

He didn’t say anything, busying himself grabbing her a bottle of rubbing alcohol from behind him. However, when he turned back around, Furiosa couldn’t miss the way his mouth was pressed into a grim line. She immediately felt a little stilted, the unusual urge to speak welling in her.

‘It’s minor.’

‘They’re your hands, you do need them.’ Jack retorted, that australian lilt to his gravelly voice prodding at her.

Furiosa bristled. He’d clearly phrased it intentionally so as to not insult her, but she couldn’t help but feel incompetent under his watch. As if reading her mind, or maybe just noticing the tightening of her muscles, he continued speaking.

‘You did well with the filter. I’ll get the loading crew to finish the last bits and fit it back in.’

With that, Jack stood, dusting himself off. There had been no hesitation in his words, he’d spoken like it was an obvious truth and the annoyance drained out of Furiosa straight away. To her dismay her cheeks warmed - both at how easily he had pacified her and also how the simple compliment had affected her.

She was so distracted by it that she only vaguely registered Jack dismissing the warboys for the day and the lingering chatter becoming more distant. Before she realised it, Jack had rounded back and was now standing in front of her, his shoulders back and relaxed.

An amused lilt worked its way into his features as he stood before her patiently, and Furiosa snapped back into the present, clearing her own face of the gormless expression she assumed she had been wearing.

Stupid.

Pulling herself together, she found herself glancing around the room and confirming it devoid of the usual daytime hubbub. The boys hadn't waited to be told twice, and suddenly they were left alone again with only the rig's chrome reflection for company.

Giving her hand a final wipe down, Furiosa satisfied herself that it really was a minor cut and would heal soon enough. It didn't take long though, and she was forced to look back up at her Praetorian again.

Thankfully, he'd picked something else to focus on, allowing the colour to drain from her cheeks without an audience.

He’d taken a step away and was shifting a couple of scraps out of the way to create some empty floor space. Furiosa’s heart skipped - finally, it was time. She’d get to spar with him again, she’d get to let out that part of her that she kept crushed up inside, even if just for a short while.

It took her no time at all today in ripping off her work gloves, carelessly discarding them on the floor. Jack raised a solitary eyebrow at that but Furiosa was too caught up to care, pulling out the fabric strips and wrapping them around her wrists.

As soon as she finished tying them off, an anticipatory buzz settled on her, burning away any lingering embarrassment.

Jack's casual movements seemed like they were taking an eternity and Furiosa watched with thinly veiled impatience as he pulled out his own wrist wraps and carefully tightened them over his skin. It took him no time at all really, but Furiosa felt every second like an age, ticking away.

Finally, his piercing eyes grabbed hers and held her attention as he leant over and plucked up a blunt metal bar, a small offcut left by the scaffolding crew. It was smooth, no longer than Jack’s outstretched fingers and he weighed in his palm. His fingers closed around it, encircling it tightly before he brandished it like a weapon towards her.

Furiosa felt her own empty hands close as her heart pumped in her chest - she briefly wondered if she’d ever been this eager to engage in an unfair fight.

She didn't wonder long, as Jack initiated what she’d been craving all day. His instructions were simple.

‘Disarm me.’

Like the warboys earlier, Furiosa didn't wait to be told twice. However, instead of springing towards Jack straight away, she dipped into a low stance and circled him.

She'd learned from yesterday that the only way to victory was to think it through. He saw right through whatever she tried otherwise.

His eyes never left hers, and his body turned to meet her with every step she took, never revealing his back.

Her first foray towards him was more of a test than anything, a lurch forward to see how he’d react, but she provoked nothing from him. His face remained set into that casual visage, the metal bar hovering tantalisingly in reach.

Continuing to circle him, Furiosa couldn't shake the feeling that no matter his defensive positioning, she was still the prey in this dance. She broke their rhythm unexpectedly, (she hoped), stepping closer and ducking as close as she could under his raised arm in one fluid movement. Her hand lifted, ready to immobilise his wrist with her first approach and grab the bar with a followup, but her plan was cut short.

Jack whipped the bar across faster than she could predict, immediately blocking her grapple and directing her momentum away from him. The only sensation she felt before she spun out was the length of the cool metal pressing into her collarbone before she was shoved back.

It didn't hurt, but Furiosa took a second to regain her bearings. Jack simply watched her cooly, as if he’d not just rebuffed her away with ease.

Furiosa’s face morphed into a frown as she studied what had happened. She’d not managed to get close enough before he’d figured out her plan.

No matter, she’d try again.

This time, Furiosa slunk lower, trying to duck under his broad arms and use his superior height to her advantage like she had the very first time. However, this time, the metal bar slammed into her forearms, again launching her back. Furiosa growled, not giving him any respite before trying again.

The bar pressed into her shoulder, harder this time, practically bouncing her away.

Again.

The bar slid across her upper back cleanly as Jack spun, deflecting her force.

Again.

The steel teased her fingertips as it slipped tantalisingly through her grip, and Furiosa heard the air rushing between her teeth as she hissed her frustration. She hadn't managed to even get a grip on him, let alone the bar - but each time he would use the damned thing to get her away.

Each time, the feeling of that steel left a cold, gritty sensation on her where it touched. Furiosa swallowed.

The motion was there, and the tension in her was strung much the same, but their game was nowhere near as satisfying as it had been yesterday. There was none of that warmth, no rush of hot blood under her skin.

You just need a win, her inner voice chimed in, and it appeased her momentarily. It felt right, she just hated losing - surely that would be why.

The next time though, Jack's forearm flicked and the bar snapped at her, catching her hard on the fleshy part of her bicep. Furiosa schooled her expression, but she knew it would definitely bruise later.

‘Focus’ Jack called out, stepping sideways and restarting their circling motion. ‘That’s your arm gone.’

Furiosa couldn't stop her glare breaking through her control.

‘I am.’

Jack narrowed his eyes at her. For the briefest of moments, Furiosa thought he was going to snap at her like he did with the warboys who got a little too cocksure, testing his authority. Instead, he loosened his stance slightly.

‘Don't watch my hands, watch my body. My legs. My face.’ His eyes zeroed in on her, scrutinising. ‘See what I will do, before I do it.’ Jack's voice was calm and clear, drawing her in instinctively.

Furiosa forced herself to internalise what he was saying, pushing past her pride. She lifted her head back to him, staring.

It was strange to look so openly, oddly worse so when he was telling her to.

Furiosa started at his boots first, instinctively mimicking his positioning, shifting her feet into wider steps as she prowled around him. His own boots were tied neatly, each loop of the laces pulled perfectly equally. The information trickled into her freely.

His legs were densely muscled, straining against the fabric around the thighs as they stepped in tandem.
When Furiosa tested him again by moving out of their rhythm, her close focus easily caught the line of tension that sprung from his calf to his hip, and the way his back foot slowed for the briefest of seconds.

Her brain filled with an excited flurry: she could physically see the moment he recognised her feint for what it was, as his foot fell back into its regular step.

Interesting.

Feeling Jack’s concentration boring into her, Furiosa gingerly skipped her eyes from his legs to his chest, unprepared to look at the in-between.

The gentle rise and fall of his thin cloth shirt showed the low effort of their current session. It wasn't soaked with sweat like it had been yesterday, but a scruff of dark hair was still visible where Jack’s neckline dipped forward, exposing him slightly. Broad and firm, with maybe the slightest of padding towards his waistline, it was hard to tell. It held no combat value, but Furiosa couldn't stop herself taking it in anyway. Her rational brain was surprisingly quiet, knowing that the weapon wielding man opposite her wasn't suddenly going to maim her. Her emotional brain, however, refused to quieten until Furiosa had tucked the sight of him into a pocket for closer examination later.

The way Jack's arms were positioned fell under her gaze next. Furiosa suddenly perked up again. Watching the hard lines of his muscles tense as he held them up had revealed a weak spot, an angle of attack that he wouldn't be able to twist into so easily.

That was what she was looking for.

Finally, her eyes reached his face, meeting him stare head-on. Furiosa suddenly understood that this was what he had been doing to her the whole time. A shiver ran across her skin at the realisation, like a ghost following the path his eyes must have traced on her.

Quickly adjusting her own positioning to better conceal her intentions, Furiosa struck. Her angle of attack was perfect this time and a tinge of victory soaked her senses, predicting success already. She slipped closer, his defence unable to keep up for the first time - but instead of reaching for the bar, Furiosa instead reached for Jack himself.

He’d reacted half a second too slowly, and Furiosa’s fingers closed firmly around his wrist, the contact electric where skin met skin. Jack, however, remained as level-headed as always and his next move was instantaneous. Furiosa felt her grip break as Jack brought his knee up and planted it into her thigh, forcing distance between them.

She didn't give up easily, and her new skill was quickly tried and tested as she moved straight back in. Despite Jack’s best efforts, the distance between them in their spar soon became a lot less as she relentlessly forced him into repeated grapples, each time pushing him harder and harder and getting closer to disarming him with every passing second.

Furiosa’s breathing came hard now, but she couldn't take even a break to delight in the fact that Jack seemed the same. Her focus was dogged, unwavering, all other distractions in the wind. She would take that metal bar and claim victory finally.

Later, she’d contemplate whether it had been worth it.

Furiosa saw the way his thigh tensed just before Jack moved, and she could see the scene play out. Her next move was precise, planned for efficiency. Using their combined momentum, Furiosa slid her foot around the back of his, her leg pressing into him, and managed to snag his wrist as well, slick with sweat but solid. As her momentum carried her, Furiosa couldn't stop her torso pressing into his chest, bringing her face to face with a wide-eyed Jack. As expected, her foot placement was highly effective at stopping him backing away, but what she hadn't factored in was how close it would force them as a result.

It barely registered in Furiosa though, her eyes lay solely on the prize which Jack had withdrawn to hold aloft above their heads. Her unoccupied arm clawed up to finally take it, fingers outstretched, straining to match his reach.

Her feet stretched onto the tips of her toes.

Just a tiny bit more-

The sudden drop in friction from Furiosa’s heels coming off the floor, combined with Jack’s attempts to force her leg back were instantly too much.

Furiosa’s foot slid just as she felt her fingers curl around the metal bar, sending them both careening backwards. Still caught up in their game, Furiosa found she couldn't let go as the world tilted and her and Jack toppled to the floor. Her face contorted, buffeted by the vibration of hitting the ground, but the rest of her was braced by her arms that splayed out in front of her.

Furiosa felt a jolt of elation spike through her when she felt the cool metal still pressed to her fingertips, but when she opened her eyes and looked down to confirm her victory, Furiosa felt herself short-circuit instead.

Her hands hadn't dropped the bar, that much was true… but Jack hadn’t let go of it either.

The end result was that Furiosa had Jack pinned to the floor, leaning over him with both arms trapped above his head. Instinctively she tensed, and a low groan sounded beneath her as her thighs pressed into a solid mass.

Thighs that, fucking hell Furiosa were straddling Jack’s torso.

The signals from her brain were haywire. As if caught in a nightmare, she couldn't move, limbs rooted to the spot.

Fuck.

Her eyes found his face without permission, catching Jack's wide-eyed expression underneath her. He was staring right back at her, for the first time he looked caught off-guard, lips parted slightly as his chest heaved with exertion. For a horrible eternity Furiosa couldn't help but look back at him, panting.

The deafening silence was interrupted by only their breathing, before suddenly a muffled laugh echoed from the far corner of the room, the shadows of a corridor leading out of the House of Holy Motors.

The spell on Furiosa broke immediately, dropping her grip on Jack’s wrists and sitting up, the metal bar left discarded. The shifting pressure on Jack’s abdomen earned a grunt from him, and Furiosa had the decency to wince, scrabbling to lift her weight off him.

Before she could, her ears pricked at another sound from the same direction, and her entire body felt engulfed in flame.

‘-see, I told ya they’d be fuckin.’ The voice was whispered, muffled by the rock, but to Furiosa it couldn’t have been clearer. Worse still, it was accompanied by another hushed laugh. A flash of white painted skin fluttered in the shadows.

Furiosa had never felt so mortified, the emotion thundering through her. Hastily, she leapt fully off Jack, fury rippling through her as she stepped in the direction of the intruders. She had no plan in mind but her feet moved anyway.

She had taken only half a step before a warm hand wrapped around her forearm, and she spun round immediately at the offending touch. Jack had risen onto one knee, his arm extended to restrain her.

Furiosa’s eyes fixed on his fingers that skimmed the stars that painted her, but his grip slackened quickly before fully letting go as she turned to him. It was a warning only.

He spoke before she could growl her anger at him.

‘Don’t.’ Jack's voice was clipped, strained almost, but as Furiosa grit her teeth he pulled himself fully to his feet. Moving fluidly, he moved in between her and the peeping toms, angling himself to obstruct her view. He stood close.

‘Let them think it. You know how this works.’ He murmured, his low timbre calling her attention away from the others and solely to him. His demeanor was closed off again, but an odd expression littered his face anyway.

Furiosa couldn't let go of the tension in her, eyes repeatedly darting to the shadowy corner. Jack’s brow furrowed.

‘Furiosa.’

That got her. Feeling like a live wire, Furiosa turned away, overwhelmed. Hearing her name on his lips… No, no, no, not right now. She just needed a minute, a second to breathe.

Jack turned away, and cleared his throat loudly to catch the attention of their spies.

‘If I catch any one of you hovering around again, you'll be on latrine duty for the rest of the year.’

His voice projected harshly across the room, and the sound of panicked scrabbling and hushed swears was the response he received. Furiosa silently thanked the stars for the brief respite.

Plucking up the courage to move on, she turned back to Jack. He was already picking things up, seemingly satisfied to ignore the awkward situation they’d just been put in. It set her a little more at ease. If he could shrug it off like that, then so could she. Surely.

His eyes flickered up to her as she turned and Furiosa tamped down the prickling sensation in her palms.

‘We’ll call it there. It’s got a long day tomorrow, and we should get some rest.’

Furiosa nodded. It was the most she could do without betraying the strange, unrecognisable feelings inside her.

She followed Jack numbly out of the room once they’d finished tidying up, but she felt like she was watching herself in third person, trailing silently behind him. She’d tried to think about what had happened, compartmentalise like she always did, but her brain just didn't seem to want to cooperate.

A sliver of exasperation bubbled through the numbness and Furiosa snatched at it, heaving her head back above the mental fog. She pushed her legs harder, catching up to Jack and sliding into her usual spot at his side silently.

He didn't look at her, but she caught his shoulders drop a little, some tension disappearing.

She took a deep breath.

This was normal.

Things would be fine.

Things were fine.

Chapter Text

Jack fought the urge to speed up as they followed the familiar paths back to the Praetorian bunk. He’d also been fighting the urge to curl his fingers into a fist repeatedly, a habit he’d kicked when he was 10 years younger.

It grated at him that the ritual had decided to rear its head again after so long, but simultaneously the minor irritation was welcome. It at least gave him something to think about other than that disastrous sparring session…. And yet here he was, still thinking about it anyway. Bollocks.

His eyes remained fixed dead ahead, but he could feel Furiosa’s lithe presence slinking quietly next to him. There had been a moment where Jack had expected things to crumble, for their already tentative partnership to fall apart again, but she’d silently returned to her normal position by his side as they walked. Jack had physically felt some of the weight on him lift when she had done so.

She was acting like nothing had happened, like that strange charged spark in the air hadn't materialised in those last few moments. Despite his calm outer facade, Jack was struggling to convince himself of the same.

The sight of her atop him, clearly dazed but still staring straight into his soul was seared like a burning iron into the flesh of his brain.

Jack swallowed.

Furiosa’s fighting style had gotten closer and closer throughout the session, digging deeper into his personal space. He’d done his best to keep his distance, always deflecting her with the metal rather than his limbs, keeping it as impersonal as he could, but he had felt like her behaviour was a trick.

Surely it was a trick, he’d thought. The memory of the way she had screamed at Kino when he'd grabbed at her had pierced him just two days ago, an unforgettable sound.

Don’t touch me . It still echoed in his ears. Jack had tried his best not to since then, even if Furiosa herself hadn’t gotten the memo.

That was, until he revealed his strategy and she'd begun using his own moves against him. It didn’t take long before Jack had been forced to realise with a jolt that she’d actually managed to trap him. Her ferocity had been incredible, like an unstoppable driving force, a hint of the girl from the rig clawing its way to the surface.

The thrill he’d felt when they’d suddenly been chest to chest, forgetting his boundaries, purely impressed and… and proud of her rapid progress had lit him up just before they’d tumbled over.

Back in the corridor, Jack’s steps continued evenly until his ears picked up another set of footsteps shuffling towards them. Furiosa slipped quietly behind Jack again as a young boy came into view down the narrow path, only enough space for two abreast at one time. Clearly recognising Jack, the boy lowered his head respectfully and rushed by them, oblivious to the heavy strain in the air.

Once he’d passed, Furiosa sped up and returned to her place at his side. A bitter curl of shame pulled at Jack as his brain forcibly tugged that specific memory back to the forefront again. Their falling to the floor had been a complete accident, but he couldn’t lie to himself.

That thrill he’d felt spiking his heartrate hadn’t just been pride in her ability.

No matter how hard he’d been concentrating on their spar, on teaching her effectively, Jack wasn’t blind. Even right at the start, he’d failed to avert his eyes quickly enough when she’d removed her jacket, removed those clunky oversized gloves that she’d oh-so intentionally thrown to the floor before they’d begun… He knew he shouldn’t dwell on it, but he couldn't stop himself. It had just been a look, not a touch, but it should have been neither.

Furiosa’s form cut a striking figure. Slim, a hint of boyishness where she lacked the fat, yet still overall undeniably feminine. Her loose and flowing dark locks of hair, despite the layer of grime, did nothing to dissuade his brain from dredging the memory back up again. She’d done well to hide herself from the citadel all this time.

Jack swiped a thumb over his jaw, dusting away an imaginary itch. He took pride in his own legendary composure, honed through a lifetime of near-death experiences, but he knew when he’d been lying flat on the floor, pinned not just by her hands on his, but by her soft hips weighing on him…. Fuck, he’d been entranced.
At her mercy, in a way he was entirely unaccustomed to.

Jack dreaded to think of whatever expression he’d been wearing, laid plain for her to see. He was supposed to be someone safe, someone she could trust. Their working partnership depended on it.

Mentally shaking himself as they rounded the next bend in the corridor, the heat on his skin began to lose the war against the cooling evening air. The evidence that he hadn't daydreamed their spar was now settling as a damp and uncomfortable layer of sweat and oil.

His hand felt for the waterskin at his hip, craving an opportunity to flush his face with water and to clean himself up. Weighing the heaviness of the thick leather, Jack thanked himself for the foresight he’d had to refill it recently.

They were nearly at the bunks, but Jack abruptly realised that if Furiosa wanted to wash herself as well, she almost certainly wouldn’t feel comfortable doing it in front of tens of hungry Praetorian eyes. He often didn’t, even if his reasons weren’t the same.

Refusing to look over at her quite so soon, he knew that she had been just about as grimy as he was, perhaps even more. He hadn’t missed the way she’d rubbed at a stubborn oil stain on her forearm earlier, and was confident she wouldn’t rebuff his suggestion to go somewhere else, without so many eyes, before heading back. It was just about how he phrased it.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the telltale burn of embarrassment crept back up his skin. How he phrased it. That was going to be the problem, wasn’t it?

How did one just up and ask the woman who had straddled him just minutes ago if she wanted to find somewhere private to… to what? Strip off in front of him? Jack managed to stop himself grinding the heel of his palm into his forehead. Of course that wasn’t going to come across well.

Deciding to assess her current expression and go from there, Jack allowed himself to furtively peer over at her - however his attempts to be subtle were quickly foiled when his quick glance turned into a stare. Furiosa noticed almost immediately, and she tensed, turning a confused expression on him as she slowed her steps.

‘What?’

Jack blinked, surprised at her willingness to speak when she was usually such a quiet creature. Thankfully, he recovered quickly.

‘Although I don’t think it’ll be long until you reach that level, the others might take offence to such a quick promotion.’

With that, Jack gestured lightly to Furiosa’s forehead, letting his eyes return to the wide smear of dark oil there that had caught his attention initially. He watched Furiosa fumble her own hands to her hairline, turning her eyes up at Jack’s matching forehead before realisation dawned on her.

She rubbed at the faux praetorian mark hard, but it only spread, sinking further into her skin. She realised it too, the oil only transferring to her fingers, and she let out a frustrated noise that almost had a smile curling Jack’s lips. The tension he’d built dissipated a little.

‘We’ll duck into a room off the corridor down here. I have a full waterskin, and I want to clean up before we go back too.’ Jack spoke, thankful that the words came out easily.

Furiosa was focussing on the stains now also on her fingers and Jack turned, knowing she would follow. Relief flooded him, his blunder staring at her had turned out to be well timed. He wouldn’t be receiving a suspicious glare, unlike the first time he'd led her somewhere unexpected.

It was only a short detour and they arrived quickly; Jack still didn’t want to risk her distraction expiring and having to defend his intentions. Again.

The room was a small L shape, only a storage cubby in actuality, but it at least gave respite from the openness of the corridor. Standing by the flimsy fabric that acted as a door, Jack held out the waterskin to her.

‘I’ll wait here if you want to clean up first.’ he offered.

Furiosa accepted the waterskin and a rag tentatively, but hesitated before moving. Her eyes darted down the corridor into the darkness, where sounds of chatter from the Praetorian bunk echoed distantly.

Jack felt a flicker of something pleasant, not at her discomfort, but at the realisation that her concern wasn't directed at him.

‘I’ll make sure nobody comes in.’ Jack’s voice came out a little gruffer than he’d expected. He leant against the wall, crossing his arms and facing out to the corridor, hoping he appeared reassuring.

It seemed to do the trick and Furiosa nodded, ducking under the curtain into the room. The sounds of fabric moving over fabric soon drifted to Jack’s ears, and he focussed determinedly on getting the dirt out from under his fingernails. He was most definitely not thinking of Furiosa so close behind him. He wondered how she’d remove the numerous layers she wore, slowly exposing that smooth expanse of pale skin…

Jack plucked at the collar of his own top to let in some of the stale air; clearly the daytime heat clearly hadn't dissipated entirely yet. It had been a long day, and Jack tried to focus on winding down for the evening instead.

It felt like only a second later that the curtain pulled back and Furiosa stepped out. Jack startled, having gotten lost in thought - she’d been quick.

The majority of her visible skin appeared wiped clean, but tiny droplets of moisture still lingered. Her hair was a little damp, like she’d attempted to clean it but had given up the monumental task part way through. She didn't meet his eye as she shoved the waterskin, a bit lighter now, towards him.

He didn't expect anything from her, so he was surprised when her voice came through anyway - quiet but firm.

‘Thank you.’

Jack paused, but she was already settling against the wall like he had, looking down the corridor away from him. It was unexpected. It was… nice.

Heading into the cove, Jack wasted no time pulling his shirt off over his head, glad to be rid of it even if for just a moment. The heat had really gotten to him today.

His hands wet a cloth, and using the water more liberally than he normally would, he dragged it carefully over his bare shoulders and back, taking his time to soothe the bruises he could feel developing. It was cooling, helpful to clear his head as the water washed away the heat, washed away any lingering sensations and left him focussed.

Cleaning himself up always helped him to maintain a sense of sanity, like he was purging a little bit of that madness that lingered around them all in the citadel.

Jack ran the cloth firmly along his arms, the oil layered along the firm muscles coming away with a bit of extra effort. The slight soreness of his limbs from their spar was welcome.

He hadn't been in the room long, but the curtain at the entrance fluttered a little and Jack looked up to see Furiosa slip quickly into the corner space next to him, barely a meter away but her back to him and out of sight of the door. He’d never been particularly self conscious, but he did feel a flicker of concern at seeing her enter. Was something wrong?

It made more sense when he heard the chitterings of an approaching group of warboys, murmuring lowly amongst themselves.

She didn't want to be caught out there on her own.

Furiosa didn't look at him at first, pulled upright to attention as she faced away - but as she turned, one finger to her lips in a ‘shhh’ motion, she clearly clocked his bare skin instantaneously.

Her eyes didn't even look up to meet his, just stared straight ahead at his chest unflinchingly as her hand dropped from her mouth.

Jack wasn't sure what was going on in her head at that second. An indeterminable urge to clean his arms a little slower, to press more water over his skin battled in him, but his sense just about won over and he continued the same as he had before.

The water droplets ran lazily through the spattering of dark hair on his chest anyway, and Jack let it calm him.

If she wanted to stare, it didn't bother him. It meant nothing.

He’d given her privacy earlier, sure, but if they worked together long enough she’d end up seeing more of him at some point, and likely the other way around too. Blades didn't care about the sanctity of clothing, and a wound left untreated was a mistake you only made once. If Jack hadn’t been convinced of his own thoughts straight away, his internal monologue did the job; it was just skin, after all.

Furiosa's eyes only followed the wet cloth for half a second before Jack ran it lower over his abdomen and she ripped herself away, facing the doorway again. She stood a little stiffer than she had before.

Ideally, Jack would have spent a little longer cleaning himself up, but he felt that today had been… well, enough. Furiosa dutifully stared at the doorway, and the warboy troupe passed them by none the wiser as Jack pulled his shirt back on as quietly as he could manage.

When the corridor emptied once again, Jack noticed Furiosa’s unwillingness to turn back around with a humour he tried to discourage. How she wasn't already desensitised to male nudity was beyond him. He was sure she’d have seen her fair share of warboys. His trousers were still on, it wasn’t like he had been-

No, it wasn’t worth following that thought through.

Deciding it was time to leave, Jack eyed the doorway himself. The space was tight, and unless Furiosa decided to leave first, he’d have to move her.
Jack lightly tapped his fingers on one of the shelving units to her side. With anyone else he’d have just tapped their shoulder, but he found he couldn't bring himself to touch her.

It had the desired effect anyway as Furiosa looked at him over her shoulders briefly before she slipped back out into the dark, Jack following shortly after. As they headed towards the bunk, both of them slightly cooler and slightly cleaner, the Praetorian found himself looking forward to their first real run tomorrow.

If they were lucky, it would be smooth sailing. If not… Jack guessed he would soon find out just how much Furiosa had begun to trust him.

Chapter Text

The wind screamed in Furiosa's ears as a Citadel-shaped smudge rose into view, still far beyond the pillars of dust kicked up on the Fury Road around them.

The roar of the engine was deafening, but Furiosa could barely hear it above the sound of her heart thumping. Gripping the rig's door with as much strength as she could muster, her other hand fired three rounds into the battered car racing at their side. Only one hit its mark, but the lone bullet made it count.
The hostile driver flopped onto his steering wheel before the whole car veered violently to the left away from them, flipping over in a dramatic display of scrap metal exploding in all directions.

Furiosa ducked back into the cab of the rig, using the door to protect herself from the ricocheting shrapnel.

She grit her teeth, deeply regretting tempting fate. She’d just had to question their luck earlier.

The entire route on the way to the Bullet Farm had been clear. Her nerves had been on edge, and only when the rocky faces of the Citadel came into distant view had she relaxed a little.

It was a prime example of sod’s law that the scout at the top of the rigging had then shouted down towards them. Furiosa’s stomach had dropped.

Buzzards, the scout had called them. Only four vehicles, but not particularly well armed, had been his next comment. He’d almost sounded disappointed, but the cacophony of cheers from the warboys in the pursuit car clearly showed they found it exciting enough.

The dread coursing through Furiosa hadn’t seemed to match the atmosphere.

Jack had barked out a few commands to position the boys based on their attacker’s positioning, but his eyes never strayed from their destination on the skyline. There was something calming about his unshakable focus on the road, but Furiosa had still wanted to watch the approach of the ambushers herself. The brown speckles on the horizon came into vision quickly, each appearing like tiny spined monsters - a manic littering of spikes and rusted spears protruding in every direction.

Furiosa couldn't help but look longingly at the towering rocky bluffs rearing their heads in the distance. They weren’t far off, only twenty minutes more and the defence guard would likely see the ambush and come to their aid.

‘They must be desperate, launching a small group like that so close to the Citadel.’ Jack had commented casually, and Furiosa had wondered, not for the first time, how he managed to read her mind so easily.

Now, snapped back to the moment, Furiosa clung to the doorframe, wondering instead what it would take to knock Jack out of his concentration. She stared at the rusted spear that had penetrated the metal shell of the cab, embedding itself firmly in the footwell just inches from him.

She didn’t have long to dwell on it as another Buzzard was already nearing closer, the thundersticks that missed their target kicking up cyclones of gritty sand and dust that whipped against her skin.

The rig’s foghorn bellowed into the air as Jack’s arm was pulled hard on the cord: a request for more support up front.

Still hanging out of the half-closed door, Furiosa had a clear view to the back of the rig. The pursuit car was occupied with two Buzzards with rotating saws, and third Buzzard had a flamer trained on the rig’s tanker, blocking the path of the warboys atop it.

There was no immediate backup coming.

The dread in Furiosa morphed into adrenaline, a far more useful chemical. Telling herself it was just the same as before, she clambered out and along the slick side of the war rig, stopping only to boot a charred corpse off the side and out of the way. The body didn't even cause a judder as it fell under the enormous wheels, the rig well-used to chopping up far hardier meals.

Her nerves felt frayed.

Last time she had stood here it hadn’t felt real. She had been so sharp, so doggedly obsessed with the promise of returning to the green place that strategy was automatic. Her allegiance had laid nowhere but with herself, and that had been easy.. Now, her survival was no longer her own.

Ignoring the strangely magnetic draw of the rig’s driver, Furiosa pulled herself round the back of the cab, gaining cover just as a spatter of gunshots whistled by her. Pressing her back to the cab’s rear window, the booming horn resounded again and she caught Jack’s eye in the rearview mirror, before his attention flicked momentarily to her left.

Furiosa's reaction was instantaneous, a surge of recognition at his look making her dive towards the shelter of the steel crane arm. A splash of flame lit the space she had occupied straight after, and the immense heat singed the hairs on her skin.

Gripping the crane’s manual controls, Furiosa whipped the arm around and caught the tip of the Buzzard’s defensive armament on the rear of the vehicle just as it tried to veer away. Pulling up the controls, the hostile monstrosity’s wheels lifted off the floor, tilting onto its side before its own spikes buckled under the pressure and impaled the occupants inside brutally.

Furiosa wiped the grimace off her face, letting the crane drop the mutilated car. Her eyes followed it's path as it bounced away from the rig, immediately wiping out one of the tailing enemy cars in a towering inferno, the guzzoline tank igniting them both.

One of the other two Buzzards had since been taken out by the warboys, and the remaining lone enemy at the rear faltered now. It didn’t take long before the warboys’ thundersticks - now focussed on their last target - hit their mark and finished it off. It flipped away almost gracefully in its destruction, and a riotous cheer erupted from the back of the rig, a bundle of warboys screaming at each other in victory.

It was done.

The Citadel was close now, close enough to send out a defence party should another group be stupid enough to approach. Furiosa’s attention settled lightly on the warboys, watching as they bounced up and down at the rear of the rig, their laughter battling the wind. It was so at odds with the wasteland, and for a brief moment Furiosa remembered the young children in the green place she used to play with, innocent and carefree.

However, Furiosa’s brief nostalgia quickly morphed into concern as the warboy Fink, looking only a little more battered than he had that morning, pointed a hand right at her.

The rig continued thundering on, leaving only scorched cement on the path behind them, but Fink jumped from the bundle of boys around him and pulled himself towards her.

Furiosa tensed, unable to tell what kind of strange emotion was on his face, but then his mouth opened and his face split into the widest grin.

‘Furiosa! Furiosa!’ Fink called as he clambered over the others towards her, his excitement rumbling through him. Furiosa took a slight step back.

‘Did ya see? Them dregs didn’t stand a chance! My shot was a real shiner, you saw it right? Right?’ His eyes were bright, passionate in his joy as the desert whipped around him.

The warboy had stopped atop the tanker just far enough away from her. Figuring that he was just shouting to anyone who he thought was listening, Furiosa went to turn away, but the Fink continued undeterred.

‘-and that thing you did with the claw was amazing! Tha’s why Prae Jack picked ya of course! He knows stuff.” he shouted, nodding sagely as if proud of his own wisdom.

Furiosa’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror in the cab, but her Praetorian was focussed back on the road again. Behind Fink, the other boys on the rig seemed to still be occupied, paying no attention to their strayed friend.

Furiosa turned to Fink quickly. She didn’t know why she wanted to reply to him; maybe it was something about the naivety of his joy, that brief flicker of the green place she’d seen in the boys, but in any case Furiosa spoke.

‘I saw.’

She’d barely said anything, but Fink’s grin grew endlessly wider, his happiness buzzing visibly under his skin.
Furiosa hesitated only briefly this time.

‘You did good.’ she said in a tone that someone else might have considered soft, just loud enough to be heard over the rumbling engine.

Fink’s reaction was instantaneous, springing to his feet and turning on lanky legs to sprint back down the rig again towards the rest of the boys.

‘Hah! Did you hear that, Valo? I did good, she saw me destroy ‘em!’

Furiosa let the tiniest of smiles curl her lip, the infectiousness of his joy catching her off guard as Fink bounded away again.

The group of warboys at the back mostly took no stock of her bar a few waves and grins, but one pair of deep, hard eyes caught her attention.

Kino.

For a second, Furiosa stood locked into a stare with the warboy, refusing the demands of her peripheral vision to look down at his bandaged, mangled hand. She’d known today was his first day back since she’d sliced his fingers off, and Jack had been quick to place him on the pursuit car - as far away from Furiosa as he could get.

Kino’s eyes were searching her with an intelligence that was unusual, but before Furiosa could react, she caught the tiniest of nods that Kino shot her before he turned away and back to the copious warboys surrounding him.

She stood alone on the walkway, and took a deep breath. The tangy salt in the air felt oddly satisfying on her tongue.

The sun flitted down, falling deeper but not yet set enough to cool the day. It reflected off the chrome rig so that the heat felt like it was coming from all directions.

Goosebumps pricked at her skin, and Furiosa felt she could barely even recall the sensation of the cold rag on her flesh from last night. Turning back to the cabin finally, she swung herself back around the side of the rig, grabbing the handles to pull herself into the passenger seat again. The door remained forcibly wedged open by the intruding spear still lodged in its place.

Jack didn’t react to her returned presence even as Furiosa settled back into the chair, stashing back a boomstick that had fallen out of place.

For a moment, they sat in relative silence, Jack’s eyes remaining glued to the road. Furiosa recalled the look in his eyes that had made her dive to safety, dodging the flamethrower that had pulled up in her blindspot. He’d not said a single word.

He hadn’t shouted to her, not like she’d heard him do to one of the scouts earlier, yet it had been as effective as if he had spoken right into her ear. Hell, maybe even more so.

Furiosa had been paying close attention to him throughout the run, and he rarely looked away from the road… Yet he still saw it all anyway. Was that something that could be taught? He’d told her he would teach her road war, but could what made him good at it even be taught?

Furiosa let her eyes drift along his arms, the way one hand rested firmly on the gearstick, the other anchored to the steering wheel… The way the lines of his exposed forearms relaxed and unrelaxed, like an organic suspension mechanism - it was magnetising, the control he had over this man-made beast of the desert.

‘You good?’

Furiosa froze. Jack’s hands remained on the wheel, but his piercing, pale eyes were suddenly, unexpectedly, on her. Furiosa blinked back at him, unable to stop herself glancing at the road ahead in his stead. The lack of attention to their inhospitable surroundings was surely detrimental, but Jack didn’t look away.

‘Yeah.’ Furiosa found herself replying, folding her hands in her lap awkwardly.
The rig’s interior was suddenly even more fascinating, and her eyes glued to the dashboard’s intentionally confusing layout, at anything, anywhere but at him. He’d been focussed on the road all day, what kind of timing was this? Furiosa wanted to melt into her damned chair.

Jack's eyes remained on her for a second longer, but when he spoke it was accepting.

‘Alright then’.

Thankfully, he must have been at least somewhat satisfied with her response as he slowly turned back to the road. They lapsed back into the quiet - as quiet as the rattling cab and buffeting winds allowed. It was the last stretch now and they were just in time, chasing the dregs of light as the sun fell quickly in the sky.

Feeling the heat of his attention fade, Furiosa calmed herself, but it wasn’t the only strange sensation in her.

Sitting up the front of the rig was unfamiliar, and almost unpleasant, like any moment someone would appear and drag her out and crucify her for daring to think herself worthy. She knew the rig back to front, but she’d never thought she’d sit where she was now - only ever pictured herself hiding under it, concealing herself in the night in the tanker, a stowaway, a hitchhiker, a rat.
How had she ended up here?

Even if she knew the answer, Furiosa forced herself to not look directly at it. At him.

She’d had a hard enough time getting a… particular… vision of him out of her head last night for whatever reason, and had been thankful when her adrenaline had burned out everything but her imminent danger earlier.

Now that the danger had passed, Furiosa was eager to distract herself again. Eyes flicking down, she made herself instead run through dials for the killswitch that Jack had shown her earlier. He’d only shown her twice, but she was confident she still knew it. However, she was surprised to see a single light on, near the underside of the steering wheel.

Furiosa paused. That was one of the engine lights. Only one of the two engine lights.

She frowned. Had Jack really not engaged the second engine during that ambush? They’d been out there fighting for their lives, and he’d just left them to it?

Before she could even move further forward with that thought, Jack’s hand shifted on the steering wheel, drawing her attention.

‘The rig needed to stay close enough to the Buzzards for the warboys to be effective.’ Jack suddenly spoke, and Furiosa startled.

She hadn't said anything out loud herself, had she?

‘If I'd engaged the second engine, we’d have just extended the time we were being shot at for. Up close, we can take them out.’ He continued speaking, either oblivious to or willfully ignoring Furiosa’s wide-eyed stare at him.

A pause stretched briefly between them, but it didn't last long.

‘How do you do that?’ Furiosa blurted out, her curiosity overwhelming any semblance of embarrassment at her question. She’d turned towards him now, forgetting herself for a moment.

Jack seemed to be amused by her, and if he knew what she meant, he quickly pretended he didn't.

‘Do what?’

‘Just, you-...’ Furiosa grumbled a little, fighting for the right words as she gestured vaguely with her hand in the air at him.

This time a smirk did pluck at Jack’s lips as Furiosa scrabbled for what she wanted to say. She took her time, but Jack had always praised himself for being a patient man.

‘You know what I'm thinking.’

Jack pondered it for a second before, infuriatingly, simply shrugging. Perhaps sensing her dissatisfaction at his response, he chipped in again.

‘Sometimes.’

Furiosa was thankful that she didn’t actually huff at him like she had wanted to, instead settling for a more suitable glower. She might begrudgingly admire the man’s skill, but she was definitely finding him more than a little aggravating.

Furiosa leaned back in her seat again, determined to ignore Jack for the rest of the short trip back, but something bothered her. Seconds passed, but she felt something strange from the driver. She looked at him.

He didn’t look back, which wasn’t telling in itself, but it seemed different this time. She didn’t know how she could tell, but the road wasn’t holding his focus.

‘What?’ Furiosa probed, her curiosity emboldening her.

To her surprise, Jack’s eyebrows raised and he actually coughed out a short laugh, like he’d been caught red handed. Furiosa frowned.

‘What?’ she repeated, a little more sternly this time.

The Praetorian opened his mouth, and Furiosa didn’t miss the ghost of a smile on his lips. ‘I’m not the only one who can read minds apparently.’

Furiosa began to protest, but Jack cut her off quickly.

‘It’s fine, I always knew you were a quick learner. I was just thinking of something I didn’t say earlier’ he spoke, his voice running a measured calmness.

‘Each time I come on these runs, my crew put their lives in my hands.’ Jack paused briefly, letting out a breath as Furiosa waited on his words.

‘But equally, I put my life in theirs. I must trust that they will keep the rig safe, and that they will keep me safe.’

Jack’s dark head turned towards her, and Furiosa shivered at the intensity of his stare as his eyes met hers directly.

‘Now, I put that trust in you too.’

Furiosa couldn’t move, forced to stare at the Praetorian’s sun-anointed skin as he turned away again. An unidentifiable weight settled heavily on her chest, expanding up her lungs and throat.

The shadow of the imminently looming citadel fell over them both, but she found herself saying nothing, consumed by Jack’s words as the rig finally rattled onto the lifting platform.

Workers swarmed the rig like tiny hive-minded insects, but Furiosa couldn’t see any of it, one thought only buzzing in her head - what manner of mess had she landed herself into now.

Chapter Text

It was strange how fast Furiosa settled into her new routine at the Citadel, both so new to her and yet still the same as she had known for years past now.

The days came and went like stones skipped on the lakes Furiosa remembered from home, each bounce across the water was a skill she learned, a sparring session completed, a rebuff of predatory hands until she sank deeply into her bed at night and began it all again in the morning.

A recent accident near the Citadel’s forge had left the Praetorian Bunk slightly emptier than it had been when she’d first moved in, and Furiosa had shamelessly felt no small joy at the reduced number of eyes following her each day.

If she had chosen to say nothing about Jack’s bedroll remaining as close to hers as ever, well, that was fine. Besides, Jack had made no efforts to move it either, so Furiosa felt justified in giving it no further thought.

She still stuck to his side at all times, but it had become more out of habit, maybe even out of comfort than necessity. The snide comments from the other residents about where her true worth laid were becoming fewer and further between.

It had caused an irritating flush to paint her skin at first, but Fink’s exaggerated tales of him and Furiosa’s first run on the Fury Road, where they had dual-handedly taken down “hundreds” of Buzzards had flooded the gossip crowds and solidified her role as Prae Jack’s ‘prized apprentice’.

To most, that has earned her some space, but to a few it was a challenge. One black thumb was still laid up in the Citadel’s medbay after he’d called her Jack’s ‘prized bitch’ instead.
Furiosa ran her hand absentmindedly over her shoulder, slipping her fingers under the abrasive cotton to feel the soft, bare skin beneath.

When it had happened, Furiosa had tempered her wrath, expecting Jack to reprimand her like he had when she'd hurt Kino - but this time he had calmly pulled her off the battered man before, to her inexplicable surprise, finishing the job himself.

They hadn’t spoken of it beyond a gruff “you okay?” from Jack, but for the next few days Furiosa had thumbed the faint fingermarks the Praetorian had accidentally left on her shoulder, until they too faded into memory.

It hadn’t even been a month, barely three weeks since their first outing on the Fury Road, but that had still entailed several more runs in the short time. Furiosa had found herself buzzing with a restless energy during each, but they had all been deathly quiet. Not a sliver of dust out of place, much to the chagrin of the warboys on the crew.

Jack, on the other hand, was far more pragmatic.

He didn't tell the boys off for wanting a fight, but Furiosa could tell he empathised with her relief each time the rig safely rode onto the Citadel’s lifting platform.
The way that deep crease in his brow lessened ever so slightly as he pulled up the handbrake on the rig, the way he settled just a little deeper into his seat… Furiosa wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but watching him cool down was the only thing that brought her back herself from the stress and adrenaline highs, the tension finally uncoiling itself inside her.

The evenings after a run were a flurry of activity, with rest but a wayward thought as the rig was to be unloaded, repaired, upgraded and prepared for its next use. By the time Jack and Furiosa were done, there had been an unspoken agreement that collapsing into bed was the only viable next option. 

That morning however, Furiosa stood next to Jack on the cliff edge as he’d surveyed the open desert, commenting out loud for her sake about the moving of the winds, predicting the sway of the clouds with an almost mystical accuracy. He brought her up here each morning, even when they weren't due out, to teach her to read the plains. An unprepared driver was a dead one, she’d learned.

Furiosa shifted on her feet lightly, sending a couple pebbles cascading off the ledge. She’d never been scared of heights, but she’d subconsciously placed herself closer to Jack than perhaps was reasonable, nearly shoulder to shoulder in the dawning light as he spoke.

She’d listened to his words raptly for the first week, but when she’d begun to get the hang of it she'd found herself listening instead to the way his voice sounded, that rumbling undertone humming in the air.

Shifting through the sleepy morning, Jack’s voice was a low murmur that reverberated in her chest as he pointed out the formations of the cloud, tracing his fingers in the air, feeling for the direction of the wind.

Furiosa tried to concentrate on his words, but this morning was more of a struggle than normal. She frowned, letting the cool wind bite at her cheeks. The Praetorian was quickly becoming the most constant thing in Furiosa’s life, and the tether that she could feel forming in her was something that she wished she could hate.

And yet, Furiosa thought as she tried earnestly to zone back into the moment, she couldn't make herself hate it.
Her eyes traced Jack’s outstretched arm, pointing her towards a rocky outcrop in the distance as the light settled gently upon him.

There was something different about him when it was just them, when they were alone, Furiosa thought. That calm bravado he held in front of the others wasn't there, and although he stood close, it wasn’t a deliberate move now.

After all, she had a good frame of reference. There had certainly been a few times he had placed a hand visibly on her arm or shoulder when a warboy got a little close, or stood with his chest practically against her back if another Praetorian got cocky… but when they were alone?

Furiosa hesitated, slowly working through her thoughts. Did he ever touch her when it wasn’t a display, or an accident?

Suddenly, an intrusive memory of Jack splayed on the floor, wide eyed and trapped beneath her hips seared into her brain and Furiosa froze uncomfortably.

Forcing herself to move, she shook the hair out of her eyes and subtly placed herself a little further away from Jack. She’d been plagued by that damned image far too many times lately, and each time she was petrified that the Praetorian would somehow know what her brain was tormenting her with.

After that session, they'd been kept busy, but Furiosa had still been disappointed at how few sparring sessions they'd managed to get in. Even when they had been able to spar, Jack had started calling things off early, before they could really build up a sweat. Her need to let off steam had struggled with it, but whenever that doggedly persistent memory of reared its head, Furiosa was quietly reminded why keeping their spars brief was a good idea. 

Thankfully, Jack's attention was still diverted to the horizon for now.

The first couple times the memory had graced her again, he’d given her an odd look and Furiosa had been mortified, determined to be less open.
Now, with great difficulty, she grit her teeth.

She was sure Jack didn't have this problem, he’d brushed the situation off so easily at the time during their spar.

The only times she caught him staring, or behaving oddly, she only had to flick her eyes around for a second before spotting whichever creep had been skulking around her that time. It was all a show to him, a ruse to keep her safe from the others. A job.

Hell, she'd barged in on him half bloody naked that one time and he hadn't even flinched. She’d learned her lesson after that, and was punished from thereon after with the sight of his bare chest in her head seared into her eyes. This was just her. Just her, wondering what would have happened if they hadn't been interrupted.

Fuck, what was wrong with her brain? She didn’t even like him. She begrudgingly respected him, she forced herself to admit, but that was it.

Before she could follow the thought further, her unwitting tormentor's voice cut back in and Furiosa straightened up quickly.

‘It should be another clear one. We’ll leave just before midday to make sure the dust storm doesn't catch up to us before we’re back.’ Jack decided aloud, handing her the binoculars without taking his eyes off the sky.

Brushing off her fluster as best she could, Furiosa brought the lenses to her eyes, trying hard to quell any reaction as she felt Jack press a light finger to the underside of the goggles, tipping them up gently to where she was supposed to look.

An angry, dark cloud billowed far, far in the distance, crawling along the desert floor like a tidal wave in slow motion.

Furiosa followed its path, looking across to the other side of the horizon where GasTown lay. She’d dreaded her first trip there, but whether through good luck or bad, she hadn't seen Dementus. She assumed he’d been holed up in the observation room at the top of the refinery.

The promise she’d made to her mother to return to the Green Place tipped the scales over her need to destroy him, but she couldn't help but map a path to where he laid each time the rig brought her back there. The off chance that she might get to crush the life out of him kept her on her toes, even if she knew it wasn't smart to pursue it.

At some point Jack had begun speaking again, but his words drifted about her without hitting their mark. Furiosa had closed her eyes.

It had been years since she’d left her home. What would it be like now? Would they still remember her? Recognise her?

Feeling the wind pulling at her hair, Furiosa tilted her head back to let it ruffle through her roots better, for the briefest of seconds imagining herself back there. It couldn't have been long, but when Furiosa cracked one eye back open she saw Jack watching her curiously, before he calmly turned back to the horizon.

She could feel his curiosity burning, as she had learned to recognise it well now, but he never asked and Furiosa never obliged: no questions.

This occasion was no different. The less this man knew, and the less she knew him, the easier it would be to leave.

The two stood in silence for a minute, letting the threat of the day sit in the future for just a bit longer before they faced it head on. Finally, as the sun peeked its rays up a little higher, Jack turned away.

‘We’d better get going.’

He’d only spoken aloud for her benefit, and Furiosa held the horizon in her sight for a second more, listening to Jack’s rhythmic steps scuff the rock below them. She heard him stop by the hollow cave entrance, and Furiosa turned to follow him.

He hadn’t gone far, but as she approacheda mischievous look had claimed his face. Before Furiosa could question him he turned and kept walking.
Closing her mouth, she simply fell in line behind him. She knew him fairly well enough at this point to suspect he would say whatever was on his mind shortly - and sure enough, he didn’t disappoint her.

Still, it certainly wasn't what she had wanted to hear from him.

‘You might want to check your kit belt before we set off. Last I saw, Fink was bandying it around the canteen.’

Furiosa faltered for only a second, but caught up to Jack’s side quickly, shooting him an incredulous glare.

‘You’re only just telling me this now?’ she hissed, eyes narrowing.

Jack stiffly began to examine the wall as they walked, clearly trying to stop her seeing just how amusing he found the whole situation.

He was failing terribly.

Furiosa growled at him, beyond words as she stomped off ahead. Her feet intentionally hit the floor a little harder than necessary, and a suspiciously laugh-like noise echoed from behind her as she ran an irritated hand along her collar.

She knew exactly why Jack was laughing. The warboy had begun following Furiosa around like a hero, copying the way she did things. It was more embarrassing than flattering, but worst still was that Fink’s behaviour had recently extended to borrowing her kit to use for… well, she didn’t really know what.

It was annoying, but Furiosa couldn't really bring herself to actually be mad at the boy. He was like a lost puppy, and even when she had graduated to clipping him on the back of the head and reprimanding him, he only ever grinned up at her with an apology she knew he never meant.

She’d grown to like all of their crew even against her best intentions, and Fink’s unashamed involvement of her in the other boys’ antics had no small part in them warming up to her as well. She guessed it was harder to fear her when they saw how much leniency she’d begun granting them.

Even Kino, who still kept his distance, didn’t seem quite as frosty as he once had… but going by the looks of distaste he still threw her, they definitely weren't going to be friends any time soon. He especially enjoyed gleefully informing her of tasks he couldn't do without a full set of fingers, and Furiosa was thankful Jack had picked up on that when assigning duties.

The excited chatter from the House of Holy Motors became more obvious as Furiosa approached, but despite the sigh she let out, she had to admit that the chatter somewhat comforted her.

After all, if she was going to be stuck in this wretched hellhole for a while longer, at least those who she spent the most time with were… tolerable.

Jack’s light footsteps echoed from further behind her and Furiosa quickly entered into the open cavern, hoping to quickly recover her kit belt before he managed to catch up.

Getting it back would be embarrassing enough without the Praetorian’s snickering in the background… Especially as last time he’d seemed to find it more entertaining to watch than help her.

Furiosa spotted Fink immediately, acting out some godforsaken roleplay with two other boys that Furiosa absolutely did not want to see any more of.

Thankfully, the warboys noticed her stalking angrily over to them and Fink quickly unclipped the belt from his hips, dropping it to the floor the same time as his hands flew up in surrender. The boy closest to him, Ivar, immediately pointed at Fink.

Furiosa levelled them both with a glare that was distinctly perilous.

‘It was his idea!’ Ivar yelped, frozen to the spot as his face turned a glorious shade of tomato even through the white paint. A clattering resounded as he dropped some other unidentified object at his own feet.

Any other boys who had been in the nearby vicinity had wisely scarpered as Furiosa loomed over the Fink and Ivar’s cowering forms. Snatching up the belt off the floor, Furiosa shot a quick look behind her to make sure Jack was still out of sight before turning her scowl back to the culprits.

‘I’ll deal with you later’ she snapped at Fink, who at least had the decency to look bashful, before turning to Ivar.

‘And you-’

Furiosa glared daggers at the other boy, but was interrupted by some stuttered apologies.

She simply waved him off in exasperation, ignoring his words. She’d just caught sight of Jack leaning casually against the entrance, watching the show.
She wasn’t eager to give him more.

‘Beat it. Both of you.’

Thankfully, neither boy needed telling twice, skittering back off to the rear of the rig where preparations for the day had already begun.
Depositing the belt back into its rightful place on the workstation, Furisoa turned back to the other object that had been dropped, only to see Jack picking it up himself having made his way over.

It was his own hammer, the snag of worn cloth tied around the handle unmistakable. The thing had seen far better days, and Furiosa had privately wondered why he didn’t just replace it, there were certainly enough of the things in the stockroom.

Taking a step forward, Furiosa held her hand out to him, requesting the tool. A wry smile held the corner of his mouth as he handed it over to her.

‘I guess you're not the only target anymore, huh?’ came his first comment, which Furiosa didn't feel was so bad. The second, however, gave her cause to wince.

‘I wonder what they were acting out?’

Failing at keeping the grimace off her face, Furiosa instead took the tool, turning and putting it back in its rightful place. Jack's tone had been ambiguous enough that she couldn't tell if he really didn't know, or if he was just teasing her.

Unfortunately, she’d seen just about enough of the boys before they scarpered to figure out what they were playing at. Especially when she'd even heard the over-dramatic kissy noises they'd been making.

Why did it always come back to that stupid training session? Between the boys, her mind, and Jack himself she couldn't catch a break.

Taking a deep breath, Furiosa shot a look at Jack that clearly meant she was not going to grace him with an answer, before making her way over to the rig to join in the preparations.

The sooner they got out on the road, the sooner she could forget these ridiculous thoughts that plagued her.

Chapter Text

For once, it hadn't been a quiet run.

Furiosa let out a heavy breath, her hand running down the smooth metal of the rig’s chrome door as she slid back into the passenger seat. It was hard to tell if it had been seconds or minutes, but the interruption to their latest desert run had been and gone faster than a flash this time.

She resisted the temptation to scour the road behind them for the carcasses of their latest assailants: the other scavengers would soon pull their remains apart, and she was sure that no trace of them would be left by the next time they returned here.

The strange duo of plated vehicles that had run at them this time were unknown, not linked to any particular crew, but clearly stupidly ballsy to take on an entire rig with just two vehicles.

Jack had seen them coming from a mile away, and while they’d been taken out in record time, Furiosa’s heart still raced, her breath hot against her chest.

Fireworks, Jack had said their weapons were called. Or rather, that was what the strange projectiles were modified from. Apparently, they were some relic of the past when people used to explode bombs in the sky… just for fun, or so Jack had told her.

Furiosa found it hard to imagine any purpose for them other than warfare, especially when the explosions still echoed in her brain, having rocked the rig as they blew up in and around them in a deafening cacophony of booms and colour.

In her mind, they were more akin to a shrapnel bomb filled with paint.

She rubbed her hands against her pant legs, feeling the sticky residue sticking to the sweat of her palms. She'd just managed to get as much of the stuff as she could off the windscreen, clearing a view through for Jack.

Having clambered back into the rig cabin, she couldn’t help but resent the way the pigment clung to the surfaces, obscuring the light, sticking far more than any sand or dust would have.

Steadfastly avoiding looking at Jack, she dragged her eyes back out of the passenger window, glad to see the Citadel closing in on the horizon.

The firework shrapnel hadn't pierced the front windscreen earlier, but it had destroyed the driver’s side window. The air that rushed in brought a scattering of sand that felt gritty in her hair, but Furiosa couldn’t bring herself to focus on it.

Whether she admitted it or not, today's run had rattled her more than she’d have really expected.

Shifting to disguise her unease, Furiosa wiped the remaining dust from her fingertips onto the dashboard, painting a red streak onto it like an open wound. It only served to force the memory of the incident back into her head again.

Furiosa had been leaning out her own window, boomstick in hand when the shock of the first explosion had almost knocked her out. Stretching out to dig a foot under Jack’s seat for balance, Furiosa wiped the strange soot-like substance out of her eyes before finally re-stabilising.

Realising it wasn’t smart to continue leaning out of the window in the face of such explosive power, she’d grabbed the doorframe intending to pull herself back inside when the sight of Jack had simply frozen her.

She couldn’t look away, balanced precariously on the sill as the rushing wind threatened to tear her out of the rig.

Her Praetorian had been stock till except for a shudder as he coughed violently, his lungs spraying red across the dashboard while his hands somehow remained steadfast on the wheel.

Her eyes had travelled down him without her command, and a rush of nausea pooled deep in her gut.

All over him was a deep crimson coating of blood, and it felt like a cold dagger had been plunged viciously into her chest. There was no way someone would survive that level of injury, and it was the only sight she could see - the red was everywhere, and Furiosa’s chest felt gripped in a vice, unable to shake herself out of her stupor.

It could only have been a fraction of a second later when a followup explosion had rocked the rig, tipping Furiosa further backwards. Her hands shot forward out of instinct, grasping at the air between them - but before she could begin to right herself, Jack’s arm had snapped out towards her, closing the distance.

His broad hand caught the fabric on her thigh, his rough fingers sliding down her leg as they grasped for any purchase they could find. The feeling of his touch registered somewhere in the back of her mind, but Furiosa couldn’t even think of it. She watched him in what felt like slow motion, the only thought in her head that, whatever injury he had suffered, he still had at least one functional arm.

A hot relief flooded her brain and Furiosa snapped her own hands forward, one managing to catch the offered sleeve of Jack’s forearm just as his grasp caught a pocket on her thigh.

Watching Jack's arm tense, Furiosa was suddenly wrenched back in towards him like she weighed nothing. The force of his pull landed her fully back in the rig, the leg he’d pulled sprawling out over his lap as she tried to regain her balance.

Behind her head, a scattering of shrapnel bounced off the rig’s door where her body had just been lying.

Jack’s fingers released immediately, snapping back to the wheel. The motion ripped his sleeve out of Furiosa’s hand, and she suddenly felt that tether inside her spring tight, releasing her fully from her temporary daze.

With her legs still tangled in him as she sat up, she found herself immediately reaching for Jack, to help him, to bandage him, to do something, anything to stem the catastrophic bleeding that covered his face, his arms-

“I’m fine.” Jack’s voice came out ragged, caught in his lungs, but to Furiosa’s confusion there was no pain attached to it.

Furiosa stopped again, unwilling to get caught up in a second stupor but unable to comprehend the situation. His voice spoke the truth, but her eyes couldn’t match that with what they were seeing. Her hands floated bare inches from him, hovering uncertainly, the air thick between them.

Jack tore his gaze away from the road to lock his pale eyes to hers, wide and beseeching. His calm demeanor remained, but something hidden in his expression was unsettled.

His mouth moved, but when his words escaped her stunned brain, ripped away by the howling wind, she dropped her eyes to his lips.

“Furiosa! I’m fine, it’s paint. Listen. Focus.” This time there was an urgency to his words, a plea embedded within them.

She hadn't heard him say it so much as having read the words on his tongue, but when a noise resounded behind him, she was forced to trust him rather than check for herself.

In choosing to trust him, it was as if something had cleared in her brain, and Furiosa let herself fall towards Jack.

The moment stretched for an eternity. Examining the memory later on, Furiosa could have sworn Jack’s grip on the wheel slackened as she had leant towards him, his eyes widening.

But, instead of her hands running along his body to check for wounds as her brain screamed at her to do, she instead ducked and grabbed the boomstick from the stash under the steering wheel.

In one fluid motion she thrust the weapon up between Jack’s arms, maneuvering it onto the window sill amongst the shattered glass. Her body moved, letting her close the remaining distance to him as her chin came to rest lightly against his bicep, steadying her aim as she stared down the sights.

If he’d been surprised, it could only have been for the briefest of moments as the Praetorian simply adjusted his hold on the wheel, strengthening his arm to act as her rest.

This close, the smell of gunpowder emanating from his skin was intoxicating. Shifting her grip on the boomstick, she felt the red paint on him smearing onto her own skin, but Furiosa steeled herself.

He didn't so much as flinch as the shotgun blast exploded out of the driver’s side window, but Furiosa felt him lean to absorb the recoil on her behalf.

Her shot met the unfortunate face of a scav who had just thrown himself onto the rig. His body flailed, flying backwards again towards the vehicle he had just jumped from.

Furiosa thumbed another shell into the magazine immediately, tossing the spent casing onto the floor. Her second shot flew further, but still hit its mark.

The guzzoline tanker their pursuer had been hauling caught the blast, bursting into an inferno. A huge spray of remaining fireworks store detonated a second later, and Furiosa and Jack were hit hard, the broken driver side window failing miserably to block the barrage carried by the vicious winds.

Thankfully, Furiosa felt only wet paint hit her, and none of the larger shrapnel pieces she knew were embedded in the bombs.

Their pursuer had been taken out, but Jack’s low grunt was her first warning that something was still wrong.

Wiping the mess out of her eyes, the darkness inside the rig cabin was the second hint.

A back and forth of gunfire still littered the back of the rig but Furiosa didn't hesitate as she extracted her entangled limbs from Jack’s lap and swung back over the passenger seat and out of the door. Throwing herself into a slide over the front bonnet, she braced herself on the front grill before gripping her sleeves and wrenching her stained jacket off her shoulders.

The paint had left an opaque screen on the front windshield, leaving Jack driving blind. She could see his windswept hair battling the wind as he held his head out the window, watching the road from the only clear vantage point.

Thankfully, the coating came off easily as she dragged her ruined jacket across it. No longer covered by protective leather, the airborne dust battered at her.

Furiosa had just leaned further forward on the rig’s bonnet when a gloved hand suddenly grabbed her leg, the deafening wind having muffled her attacker’s approach. Furiosa lost her balance, her chest landing against the windscreen as she was dragged backwards.

Looking over her shoulder, her attacker’s face was mostly covered, but his mouth was exposed as it morphed into a disgusting toothless grin. A necklace of bones wrapped around his neck, disguising a littering of scars across his soot-blackened flesh. As he wrenched her leg towards him, Furiosa twisted her body frantically, turning to kick him as she grabbed for her own blade. Before she could pull it out, a bang exploded near her head, and the man’s grip slackened.

Ignoring the ringing in her ears, she planted a kick hard against his chest, launching the man off her, noticing suddenly that half of his upper body was now missing. His body crumpled as it hit the desert floor, and Furiosa twisted back round again, looking for the next source of danger.

Instead, she came face to face with Jack leaning out of his window, the shotgun wedged in the crook of his arm. Their eyes locked for the briefest of seconds, before Jack dipped back into the rig, pulling the weapon with him.

The remainder of the paint had thankfully been dislodged from the windscreen during her last scuffle, and Furiosa slid off the glass finally, gripping the grill at the front of the rig.

Standing upright, she spun, confirming they had finally fought off their pursuers.

Thankfully, the firefight at the rear of the rig had ceased as well. A white painted face atop the tanker caught her eye, as the warboy shouted an ALL CLEAR to her.

Trying her best to stem the slight shake of her arms, Furiosa spent a moment longer than was absolutely necessary before pulling herself back round and inside again.

She quietly hoped Jack hadn’t noticed. It was a wonder she didn’t crumple into her seat, but her pride would never have allowed it. Just as she settled in, his deep voice caught her.

‘We’re nearly back.’

His words were back to that level, even tone as if he had never faltered, as if Furiosa hadn’t been prepared to drop everything to save him. His arms still dripped with the red paint and she looked away immediately, still somehow unable to stomach it.

Focussing instead on his words, her brain whirred, still caught up in the adrenaline.

She was almost surprised at Jack. He wasn’t one to speak needlessly, and she could see for herself the rocky faces of the Citadel approaching in the distance.

Inexplicably though, her stress began to taper at his words. Forcing herself to keep her eyes dead ahead, she calmed her breathing.

The sight of Jack, covered in red… Why did it cause that feeling in her?

She’d not felt that level of dread in years.

That horribly cold feeling of thunder in her veins lingered even as the rig pulled agonisingly slowly into the loading bay. The jolt of the tires on the platform forced her to gather herself back up again, and Furiosa was quietly thankful that Jack was focussed on the driving. At least, he hadn't turned to look at her.

The state of the paint-covered chrome caused a clamor in the Citadel, and as soon as the brakes pulled up, Jack’s attention was immediately and unavoidably diverted.

Furiosa felt strange. Usually, they’d take a second to sit in the rig, letting their senses cool back down in a companionable silence… But none of that was allowed today.

The crowd was getting louder by the second, and Jack opened the door, jumping down from the rocker panel with practiced ease into the building swarm.

Only when his back was turned did Furiosa finally allow her gaze to turn to him, watching drips fall from his wet hair down his back.

Even as he stepped further away, several voices already harassing him from every direction, she couldn’t stop herself from examining each of his limbs in order, still needing proper confirmation that he was unharmed.

He moved stiffly, his arms held at his sides, but his stance was not that of a mortally injured man.

It did something to soothe the roiling unease in her, and Furiosa dragged her eyes away quickly, frustrated at her lack of control.

Grabbing her sodden jacket and pulling the fabric back across her shoulders a bit rougher than she needed, Furiosa finally let out the shaky breath she’d been holding in.

It was over.

Gathering herself back into the rigid internal frame she’d kept for years, Furiosa slipped quietly out the other door of the rig.

Thankfully, the majority of the hustle and bustle of the room was revolving around Jack on the other side of the 8 tonne beast. Furiosa listened to the directions he was calling out, arranging the chaos in the cavern with effortless authority.

Even though most of the attention was on the lucky Praetorian, eyes still followed her - probably wondering, like she had, if the paint was blood.

Furiosa ignored them, grateful for the wider berth the blackthumbs and revheads had begun giving her recently, even more so now as she stalked through the crowd looking like the sole survivor of a gladiatorial fight.

She silently slipped between them to join the workers in hooking up the guzzoline refueller.

There was no reason for her to talk to Jack here. She had duties to attend to, work to finish up.
Some of the other Praetorians had shown face and approached him, a barrier of bodies between them both now. Still, Furiosa couldn't help but listen to the way they spoke, Jack’s deep, distinctive drawl echoing back to her.

Furiosa swallowed.

The bustle and rush of bodies was all-encompassing around her, and the ringing in her ears still hadn't subsided. Against her skin, the slick stickiness of the paint inside her jacket was rubbing, itching, driving her mad.

Rushing to complete her tasks faster than she would normally, she found herself glaring at a few of the blackthumbs, taking over their tasks to do them faster, better.

She needed to get out of here.

Finally replacing the last of the boomsticks and sluggers in the cabin, Furiosa slid down from the rig, landing heavily. 
Glancing over at the exit, Furiosa paused. She was done, but despite her building discomfort she hesitated before slinking out.

Jack was still preoccupied with the other Praetorians.

He never said anything when she did her disappearing acts anymore, never told her off, but she would always feel a strange tugging of guilt when she found him again.

He’d always be waiting for her, patiently planted somewhere that he knew she’d eventually come back to, like he’d put his plans on hold until he knew she was safe.

It had grated at her before now, but after today, after the way she'd been unable to relax until she’d watched him walk out of the rig unharmed…

Well. Furiosa guessed she couldn't begrudge him so much anymore.

Turning her head back over to Jack, she expected to find him still locked in with the others, but to her surprise his gaze rested right on her.

Beating back the strange lingering feeling in her chest, she flicked her eyes back over to the exit, willing him to understand her unspoken communication.
His eyes traced her path briefly before pulling back to her again.

His face was blank, but the smallest gesture of a nod fell in her direction before he resumed speaking with the others, each of whom were clearly none the wiser to his second conversation.

Trying to minimise the crimson drips that fell from her onto the floor, Furiosa slipped out of the room, unnoticed amongst the still-bumbling crowds.

She'd meet Jack back at the bunks later, but for now Furiosa couldn't stand it any longer. She needed the peace, needed to feel clean again.

Her feet carried her fast, dipping in and out of the shadowy corridors that led to the upper levels, eager for what awaited her.

Chapter Text

It has been months since she had even attempted to go to her oasis; before she had even met Jack. 

With the sudden new attention on her, it had been too dangerous to attempt to pass through the corridors undetected - but now she couldn't wait any longer.

The cool, clear water called to her like a siren song, sure she was that it would have refilled and cleaned out completely since her last visit. Her fingers twitched in anticipation of the cool waters that would soon run through them. 

Looking over her shoulder as she ducked out of view, Furiosa held her breath. The distraction of the rig and the painted mess it brought was welcome, drawing eyes away from her as she slipped away. Much like how the chrome metal would be cleaned, Furiosa craved her own relief from the visage of bloody red that seemed to be everywhere she turned. 

Despite knowing the paint wasn't blood, her eyes flicked continuously to her skin, her brain trying to convince her to patch up whatever wound must be laying underneath. The waters of her oasis would soon run red, but she couldn't bear it on her any longer. The urge to wash the remnants of the last run off her were building, peaking higher and higher. 

Ducking into a side cove, Furiosa waited impatiently for the rushing footsteps and excited chatter to subside.

The oasis was her only place of sanctuary, of private solace, found during her escape from Rictus’s covetous hands.

In that moment, looking out across the little trickle-fed pool under the starlight, it had felt like her own mother had saved her, had used the last breath of life from the stars to bless her with her own part of the Green Place.

Eventually, an unassuming craggy wall appeared ahead of her and Furiosa slipped back out of the darkness. She slowed, ensuring she hadn't been followed as she pulled her jacket off as quietly as possible.

The fabric was dripping still, and she scooped it up in her arms the best she could, leaving no trace on the floor or walls as she squeezed through the crevice. Without her jacket, the rock face scratched at her arms, leaving little white trails on her bare flesh. Pushing through to the other side, Furiosa let the slight pain sharpen her senses. 

Now, she gripped the jacket in her teeth to free her hands, feeling the grit of gunpowder on her tongue before hauling herself up the next sheer section of rock. 

As she did, the fading sunlight hit her straight in the face, bouncing off the flattened surface as she clambered onto the ledge. The small, glimmering pool nestled in the middle of the hidden cove was as glorious as it had ever been. 

Wasting no time, Furiosa shed her boots and yanked the bottom of her trousers up, sinking her bare flesh straight into the water without hesitation. It only came to just below her knees, but by the stars it was bliss. 

The water was sun-warmed but still cold, and Furiosa hissed as goosebumps climbed her thighs - but as the seconds passed, the ringing in her head finally began to subside.

The Citadel usually never stopped moving, never stopped demanding of its occupants their sweat, their blood, their lives… but here Furiosa could shed herself of that, steal back one moment just for herself. 

Dipping her hands into the pool, she watched, mesmerised as the little swirls and eddies in the water’s surface became tainted with the red paint that ran from her skin. 

Motivated now, she pulled her hands back and dipped her fingers under the scrappy fabric of her linen top, pulling it up and over her shoulders. Her thin chest bindings remained, as did her trousers, but Furiosa slid further into the water nonetheless, kneeling so the water rose to her stomach. She tossed the top next to her jacket and boots on the rocky flats, and carefully placed her flick blade within reach.

This may have been the only place Furiosa felt safe, but she still struggled to relax without the weapon nearby.

The chill that the water brought was brisk, but that only heightened Furiosa’s drive as she scrubbed at herself roughly, drawing the water up and across her chest, and down her arms. Finally, the sticky red coating began to shed, and she breathed hard. 

Only when her pinkened but unharmed skin began to show through more fully did Furiosa begin to slow her motions, running her hands a little more gently across herself, beginning to enjoy the feeling of cleanliness. It wasn’t just the paint being stripped away, but the weeks of guzzoline fumes, sand and oil that a wettened rag in a semi-private alcove could barely touch. 

The memory of cleaning up in the little corridor with Jack touched her senses, but Furiosa didn’t bat it away this time. Finally alone and at peace, she let it play out freely. The feel of the wet cloth on her skin paled now at the sensation of free running water, but there had been a strange warmth to that memory that was missing here.

Her jacket and top lay to the side, and Furiosa eyed them before deciding to wait until the end to wash them out. The jacket needed wringing out, and she didn’t want to taint the water too much before she finished cleaning her body first. 

However, even when she settled back after scrubbing the rest of her skin, raw but cleaner than it had been in a year, she dragged her eyes away from the stained clothing. Instead, she let her shoulders untense, leaning back against the edge of the little pool as her eyes closed. She could stay here for just a minute longer, couldn’t she?

She’d miss evening rations, but after that day she couldn’t stomach eating yet anyway.  Maybe Jack would wonder where she was but… She’d given him a heads up earlier. He wouldn’t come looking for her just yet, right?

Besides, Furiosa realised as she settled back a little deeper into the water, by the stars she did she need this.

The water lapped gently against her skin as the sun began to creep lower in the sky, right up until the sound of something scraping against rock made her shoot bolt upright. 

Fuck. How long had it been?

Someone was here. Here! In her oasis.

Faster than she’d thought herself able to move, Furiosa leapt out of the pool, her right hand grabbing her blade first, leaving her left to scoop her belongings up as quick and quietly as she could before concealing herself by the wall. 

If she was lucky, the intruder wouldn’t realise what they’d found. The little ledge up to the oasis wasn’t obvious, surely they wouldn't- 

Furiosa’s thought was interrupted by a quiet grunt, and a scrabbling of hands on rock as her stomach dropped.

Gripping the blade in her palm harder, she crept closer to a small boulder, the only hiding space in the flat area, making sure she was entirely out of view of the ledge. She sank closer to the floor, crouching low so the cold drips of water falling from her were silent as they hit the ground. 

Her face contorted, but the anguish at the thought of her oasis being found was quickly being overtaken by determination. She would be the only one to leave here alive, only she could know of this place. 

A surprise attack once the intruder was distracted or in the pool would be her best course of action. Daring a peek back out towards where she had just been, she knew she’d left no remnants of her presence out in the open, nothing obvious to give her away.

The water wouldn’t have settled yet from her quick exit, but Furiosa grit her teeth. She’d have to hope whoever was coming wasn’t too observant.

Indeed, whoever it was had taken their time hauling themself up the ledge, and Furiosa bristled as a heavy, foreign exhale rang out across to her hiding space. 

If she had to guess, the intruder was a man, maybe even slightly injured given how long it had taken them to get up. Steeling her nerves, she moved into a crouch. 

The boulder only just about concealed her body, but it wasn’t foolproof. She’d have to act fast. The tread of weary boots across the floor made her tense, but Furiosa held herself quiet. Just a few moments longer, and he’d be distracted enough for her blade to meet its mark.

The sound of a metal zipper being unravelled lit up the air, and Furiosa could picture the jacket it belonged to being shed to the floor with the soft thump that came after, before the footsteps gradually came to a halt by the pool.

Furiosa braced herself, her muscles coiling. This was the moment, any second now he'd take his boots off, or slip into the water - either worked - and she’d be able to cross the meter to him in an instant.

But instead of any of that, there was a moment of silence. 

Then, a sharp inhale.

Furiosa’s heart stopped. That wasn't a reaction to the cold, that was the sound of recognition. The water dripping off her suddenly felt like ice: something had tipped the intruder off to her presence. 

Before her legs could launch her over the boulder and into a fight, the stranger’s voice suddenly echoed off the walls.

‘...Furiosa?’

The voice was quiet and uncertain, but unmistakable.

Furiosa’s brain faltered, but the tension in her limbs failed to comprehend the sudden change in plans.

Unable to stop herself standing up abruptly, Furiosa suddenly found herself face to face with Praetorian Jack. 

Alerted by the sound of her movement, he turned, eyes locked onto her immediately.

Even though he’d said her name, it didn't marry up with the blatant shock now on his face - but it was soon replaced by apprehension.

Immediately readying a defensive stance, his forearms came up in front of him like he was steadying a spooked animal.

‘Whoa there, it's okay, it's… it's me.’

He sounded confused even by his own words, and Furiosa felt her own surprise swiftly give way to disbelief at what was happening. 

Following Jack’s line of sight, Furiosa quickly dropped her arm as the blade that she had automatically brandished at him fell now to the floor with a loud clatter.

The sound seemed to startle them both and Jack dropped his own hands too, straightening up slowly with a quiet exhale. For a moment they both regarded each other, but Furiosa's body decided it had had enough.  Jack was no enemy. 

The sudden drop in tension had her place both her hands on the rock in front of her, leaning her full weight on it as she leaned over it, eyes closed. Distantly, she heard herself speaking, a tremor barely audible in her words.

‘I was going to kill you.’

‘I could tell,’ came Jack’s response after a beat. When Furiosa didn't move, her hair blocking his view of her face, he continued.

‘I’m hoping your use of past tense means you've decided not to.’

She could almost hear the tentative smile creeping into Jack’s voice when he spoke, and Furiosa felt her hot blood finally cool down again. 

Tipping her head back up to him, he truly was smiling at her now, that scar of his stretched across his cheek gleaming in the light, and she took a second to drink it in - feeling her own face desiring to match his. 

He looked… Beautiful. 

For a bit longer than was probably natural, she stood watching him openly, letting the stress wash out of her.

It didn’t make sense; how did this man cause her so much frustration and yet so much peace at the same time? Although she usually shied away from the topic of Praetorian Jack, this time she couldn’t bring herself to push it away.

His jacket lay crumpled behind him, leaving him in just his light cloth undershirt, and he stood unmoving between her and the oasis. Red paint still peppered him, but it was mostly localised to his legs now - except for one of his arms.

Furiosa zeroed in on it instantly, the strange fog of calmness that had come over her subsiding temporarily. He held it slightly behind him so she couldn't see properly, but something on his upper bicep looked strangely like blood still.

Furiosa hesitated. She’d embarrassed herself enough on the rig by showing concern where it wasn't warranted - she was just grateful Jack had taken it gracefully and not berated her for nearly killing them both in her distraction.

Clearly catching her wandering eyes, Jack took the step to broach the conversation.

‘I came to clean up. Didn't think a rag would hack it this time.’ His smile had dropped now and he seemed hesitant, unsure almost. 

‘I saw the paint in the water,’ he said, gesturing to the little pool. ‘Figured it could only be from you…. I didn’t realise anyone else knew of this place.’

Furiosa wanted to speak, wanted to say something to him, maybe even to tell him to stay, but she only bit her cheek in frustration instead as nothing came out.

Her silence wasn't unusual, but she could see the tiredness in Jack’s eyes today, even more so than usual. As a result, when Furiosa stepped out from behind her rock, her bare shoulders dripping wet, her underlayers plastered to her skin, padding slowly over to him.. Jack froze, rooted to the floor.

A strange thrill surged through him like a hand had traced up his spine.

He didn't even think to move as she made her way over, concentrating only on desperately keeping his eyes on her face. Despite his best attempts, his peripheral vision caught the way the water dripping down her chest reflected the sunlight, leaving trails on her skin. 

His mouth suddenly felt drier than it had even out on the road.

Sensing a strong kind of danger, Jack took a step back. Clenching his jaw, he twisted his body back to the ledge to leave.

‘I’ll come back later-’ He began quickly, words coming out gruff, but Furiosa blocked him in his tracks, suddenly only inches away. Jack really hoped his sudden inhale hadn't been too noticeable.

As if filled with an uncontrolled confidence, Furiosa reached out and grabbed his arm, lifting it towards her.

The pain that shot through Jack was enough to distract him even from the sight of her, but although he barely flinched, Furiosa snapped her face up to him like he’d screamed in pain.

She was razor focussed now.

‘You’re hurt.’

It wasn't a question; it was an accusation, but Jack didn't shy away from it.

‘Yeah.’

Furiosa’s brow furrowed. He sounded a little gruffer than usual, but if he had been going to continue speaking he promptly cut himself off when Furiosa's hands slid up his arm.

Her water-cooled fingers explored decisively around where she expected the wound to be, trying to peer through the ruined, damp fabric unsuccessfully. 

Thinking only to reveal the injury, she gripped the bottom of the rolled up sleeve and began to lift it but hesitated suddenly.

She’d moved in close without thinking about it, and she quickly registered that she was here, alone and away from the rest of the citadel. And she’d grabbed him. 

If someone had done this to her, she’d have thrown them further than they could reach. If he’d done this to her…

Furiosa swallowed, but Jack stood motionless, swiftly looking away from her. Her shoulders suddenly came up in goosebumps.

Crushing down her embarrassment, alongside the heated feeling inside her, she forced herself to look up at him to ask permission. She was done with hiding from this man.

Catching her intention, he nodded brusquely even as he avoided eye contact and Furiosa wasted no time in rolling his sleeve up further.

Her movements slowed a little when she could finally see what she was dealing with on his bare skin. She leaned a little closer, tracing the shrapnel wound with her eyes before she felt a strange tickle against the back of her neck that she quickly realised was Jack’s breath. 

Despite her determination to face Jack, she promptly dropped his arm and took a step back, warring with herself internally as the sensation wound its way into her subconscious. 

Simply telling herself to not be embarrassed apparently didn’t equate to being able to not feel it. 

Forcing herself to look back up at him, she caught him examining the wound himself.

‘It’s not too bad’ he murmured lowly. ‘A few stitches should do it.’ 

Furiosa nodded, trying to focus on the damage. It bothered her. A lot. She’d not actually seen him injured before… and between the fight on the rig and now, she already decided she didn’t want to see it again. 

Jack seemed to simply be looking at it, but she couldn't tell what was going through his head.

It probably needed the shrapnel to be extracted, and it was in an awkward spot for him to sew up himself. Should she offer to stitch him up? She knew herself well enough to realise it was only going to bother her seeing it done poorly. An injury like that needed to be treated. 

The thoughts rushed through her head in quickfire, only briefly wondering if his injury was the sole reason she wanted him to stay. It was only when Jack stepped away, clearly intending to continue leaving the way he had come again that spurred her into action.

‘Wait-’

The words spilled from her mouth so suddenly that even she was surprised to hear them.

‘You should clean the wound out sooner. It’ll get infected.’ 

She could have winced at how pathetic she sounded, but it was better than telling him what she really wanted.

Jack stopped, his pale eyes piercing into her over his shoulder. She could feel them digging into her, prying out some semblance of reasoning.

She dragged her attention back to the water that was finally returning to its smooth trickle. It was as inviting as it had been when she had first arrived, but if Jack left now she knew he’d stay in her thoughts anyway. She was done with fighting it, she'd had enough of that today. 

Who cared why she wanted him to stay? She just did. It didn’t need to be more complicated than that. 

A second passed, but he still hadn't moved. Hadn't said a word.

He was going to make her say it, wasn't he? Never bloody did anything without her expressly saying so. 

Furiosa took a breath, trying to stop her brow furrowing angrily as she glared into the water. 

‘We can share.’

When Jack didn't immediately respond, Furiosa suddenly felt a building uneasiness, wondering if she’d pushed him too far - but it didn't last long.

Seeing Jack’s still-blank features, she suddenly had a lot more respect for the Praetorian’s tolerance of her usual silence. This was beyond frustrating.

Whatever a normal reaction to this would have been, she didn't care anymore. This was precious time being wasted, and that damned wound on his arm wasn't going to clean itself out.

Letting a scowl loose on her face, she moved to a side of the pool and pointed clearly to the opposite end of it.

‘Sit.’

That, at least, seemed to get a reaction from Jack.

‘I’m not a dog, Furiosa.’ 

He’d stiffened at that, had used that authoritative, reprimanding tone on her, but she decisively ignored him in favour of grabbing her jacket and thumbing through it for her medical supplies. 

When she pulled out her meagre stash and stared back at him challengingly, he dropped eye contact and shook his head. Furiosa thought he was going to berate her again, but when he ran that telltale hand across the stubble on his jaw, she was quickly pleased to realise he’d given in. 

Whatever internal battle had warred inside him had clearly been decided as he took a knee, leaning down to undo his laces.

Chapter Text

Taking a seat next to the pool, Furiosa gave Jack about a meter of space before casually folding her legs under her. She took a moment to clean the metal needle and the pair of small forceps she’d pulled out of her jacket in the fresh water, having pocketed them from the workshop a long while ago.

Her own reactions to all of this had surprised her, and as Jack quietly removed his boots she looked over to the bundle of her own clothes, wondering if she should put her undershirt back on. 

Strangely, she didn’t feel any apprehension about the state of her bare skin in front of him. She was fully aware that this was a whole new step for them both, progressing far beyond standing watch while they each cleaned up out of sight… but was that really a problem? 

She hadn't seen his eyes stray from her face even once yet, and she was fully aware that the thin fabric bindings covering her chest left little to the imagination. Yet, when she watched him, she didn’t catch any semblance of interest. 

To her own great confusion, Jack’s indifference irritated her. When the warboys and other Praetorians stole furtive glances at her, she resented them - but somehow when Jack didn’t do it to her, a different kind of annoyance grew.  

Looking away from the shirt, she left it crumpled in the pile where it lay with a tinge of conflicting frustration. Instead, she turned back to Jack just in time to see him sink his legs into the cold water. The expression on his face morphed quickly from that exasperated look he’d shot her into one of irrepressible bliss, his mouth parting slightly to let out a low groan as he settled down comfortably.

Furiosa had to squeeze her fingertips together hard to stop herself dropping the needle into the waters.

Her cheeks heated immediately and she suddenly wondered why on earth she’d put herself in this situation. Even when she’d made the decision to keep her shirt off, she didn't think it was anywhere near as indecent as how watching Jack just then had felt. 

This was not good. However, she’d made her bed and now she would damn well lie in it. Quickly placing the medical supplies safely next to her, Furiosa dipped her hands back into the water and let the chill run through the blood in her wrists.

Jack leant back casually on his uninjured arm, but one eye was trained carefully on the metal forceps next to her.

‘You know what you're doing with those?’ he asked, a hint of apprehension coming through.

He’d never questioned her so openly before, and if Furiosa hadn't been as distracted by him, she'd probably have been able to come up with some sarcastic retort. However, as it was, she just about gathered the strength to level him with an unimpressed glare. She’d tested him enough with the ‘sit’ demand earlier, anyway.

Jack stared back at her for a moment before rolling up his shirt sleeve as best he could.

‘Go on then. Let's get this over with.’

Furiosa didn’t wait for him to change his mind, and with his permission she quickly crossed the short distance towards him and settled to his side. 

It was strange;  they sat so close in the rig, even slept at each others’ side every dawn and dusk… but in this new setting it felt odd to her, being this near to him. Her brain whispered the word ‘intimate’ to her, but Furiosa ignored it.

Watching his face carefully for any sign of him changing his mind, she let her fingers pull up the cotton of his sleeve even higher to better expose the wound, careful to avoid touching his skin.

Jack tensed a little at that, but Furiosa supposed the idea of upcoming pain would do that to anyone. Using one hand to hold up the sleeve, she dipped her cleanest rag into the water - but something made her pause before she pressed it to him, hovering instead over his skin.

‘Tell me to stop if you need.’

She wasn’t sure if she was capable of gentleness anymore, and for some reason she had thought fit to warn him with the only words she could - but when Jack nodded slowly she pressed the feeling of inadequacy away. 

She almost missed the low hiss he let out when the wet cloth finally touched his skin, but as some of the blood was wiped away she could finally see what she was dealing with. 

It wasn’t a large wound, certainly not fatal, but Furiosa could tell immediately that the forceps were going to be needed. Small scraps of shrapnel had dug themself into his arm in an almost circular pattern, but clearly what was causing him the most pain was the jagged slice where almost certainly something larger had deeply embedded itself. 

Starting by cleaning out the surrounding wounds, Furiosa worked quickly and efficiently, a small pile of grain-sized shards collected by her knees. She was sure it must have hurt, but since the first touch he hadn’t made a sound. His breathing was even and measured while his lids had closed lightly, calm and still like he was being treated to a spa rather than a medical procedure.

Pursing her lips, she wondered if that would change for the next part. 

Placing her entire palm on his arm to brace him, and steady herself, she felt Jack take a deep breath before turning his head away slightly. Deciding better than to give him warning and allow him to tense up, she pressed the tool to his arm and reached for the largest shard straight away.

She’d had to do this to herself before, once, and the pain of having to dig through her own flesh was something she had never hoped to have to go through again.

Despite that, if it hadn’t been for the clenching of the muscles in Jack’s jaw whenever she had to dig a little deeper, she’d have thought the arm she was working on was attached to someone else.

After a few more attempts that Jack bore in an impressive silence, she finally grasped the piece and slowly, carefully pulled it free of his arm. Placing it carefully on the floor, she didn’t stop until she’d threaded the needle and stitched a line along the jagged wound. Her fingers glanced along his skin as the thread wove in and out again and again until she tied it off neatly at the end. 

Only when she leaned back and dropped her hands from him, did she finally let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. With the exhale came the last strength in her limbs, like her concentration had been the only thing keeping her upright. Jack turned to her slowly, eyes tracing down and along her now-limp arms before finally coming to rest on his own stitched up wound. 

Watching him look at her work, Furiosa found herself surprisingly anxious. His fingers probed lightly at the reddened skin around it, testing the strength of the mend.

‘Certainly neater than I’d do myself.’ he commented, his tone easy. 

Furiosa’s brow furrowed a little, but when Jack’s eyes caught hers just then, she could see a deepness in them as he spoke again, quieter, like it was a secret he was divulging.  

‘Thank you.’

Furiosa forced herself to look away from those endless pale eyes, taking the opportunity to slide a little further away from him again now that her excuse- no, her reason for being so close had ended. 

Kicking her legs back out and into the water again, she forced herself to calm her breathing and ignore Jack's presence as she leant down began washing her hands carefully. The blood and paint faded easily, but the heat that was left in her stubbornly lingered, pooling now in her chest. She had settled into an amiable silence with Jack as he slowly began to wash off the rest of himself, but Furiosa steadily focussed on cleaning her own clothes, expecting to return to that blissful calm now that he’d been fixed up… but something still wasn't right.

As the minutes passed and Furiosa gradually realised the water wasn’t going to wash her problems away, she let the frustration that had simmered heat up even further until it flared out.  

‘You should have told me.’ Furiosa heard herself mutter into the empty air, the echo bouncing off the rocky walls. She knew Jack had heard her even if he didn’t react, and she could feel him thinking as he continued to rub cold water over his tanned neck.

‘What good would it have done?’ he answered eventually, resting one hand on the floor as his fingers danced over the bloodied shrapnel beside them. Furiosa felt the heat in her chest notch up a degree.

 ‘What good?’ she bit out, struggling to contain her anger as it spiked faster than she knew what to do with. ‘I deserve to know.’

Jack let his eyes settle on her, examining her for a moment - but the wary flash of his expression ignited her further. A part of her quietly questioned why she was so angry at this, but it was smothered quickly.

‘When my life is in your hands out there, you don’t get to hide this, Jack.’ she snapped, tongue sharp even in her own mouth. 

He sat a little stiffer at the sound of his name, flipping the shrapnel over in hands distractedly.

‘And you’d have done what with that knowledge? Performed surgery on the road?’ the Praetorian retorted, gesturing to her.

Furiosa boldly met his eyes. ‘If that’s what was needed.’

A moment passed before Jack sighed, being the first to break contact as he softened his tone.

‘We were on the straight back. It happened as the last car got taken down, there was no more fight to be had.’ 

He had the aura of a man picking his battles, but Furiosa didn't back down.

‘That doesn’t matter. Anything could have happened.’

‘No, we were close to the citadel-’ Jack started, his pacifying tone wavering only slightly until Furiosa interrupted him, eyes blazing. 

‘Bullshit.’

Jack stared at her incredulously, but now that she had let loose this fire she couldn’t contain it.

‘Bullshit?’ 

His eyes narrowed at her defiance and he began to contest her, but she growled back at him again, pushing his tolerance even harder.

‘Yeah, bullshit, Jack. You hid that wound from me even now, in here. What about our next run, would you have said something then? When right now even lifting it pains you?’ 

The ire flowed out of her freely and she twisted towards him, moving her body instinctively closer. ‘I thought you were supposed to trust me.’ 

Some latch that had opened in her had been unable to shut again, more words coming out than she’d spoken in a month - but as she snapped at him she still had enough presence to recognise Jack’s demeanor wavering too. He didn’t move from his seat, eyes unflinching throughout her tirade except for a cold weight that settled on him. Furiosa’s chest pounded, breathing heavily as she finished, but his response made her jerk back as if bitten.

‘Can you blame me?’ 

This time it was Jack’s turn to interrupt Furiosa as she choked out an outraged “What?”, but the Praetorian only leaned in closer with each word.

‘When the fireworks first hit us, you froze up. You froze, Furiosa, nearly got yourself and the rest of us killed. What would you have done when you found out I was actually injured?” he said, the words spilling out of him quickly. 

She felt her limbs go still as if re-enacting the moment, that same dread seeping in again as she remembered the point she thought he’d been struck. The utter despair at believing the strike had been fatal.

‘Hell, I had to pull you out of the line of fire myself.’ Jack muttered now, glancing down at his hands as he said it.

Furiosa watched him clench them open and closed, and she could feel the imprint of his hands on her thigh where he had grabbed her. 

The shard of shrapnel lay discarded on the floor now.

‘You don’t like authority. You’re unpredictable. I can’t take that risk with my team. I hold their lives in my hands too.’ Jack reeled off, finally coming to a halt as he ran a hand roughly through his hair, turning his ocean eyes upwards.

While Furiosa’s anger blazed like a flame, she met Jack’s cold temper like it was a wall of ice, unyielding and impenetrable. He hadn't even wanted to indulge this fight, but she'd forced it and now she had no way out. Smart move, Furiosa.

To her despair, her eyes began to prick and she ripped herself out of the suddenly freezing oasis. 

‘No need to worry about that risk anymore, then.’

The words tore out of her as she got to her feet, hating each one but unable to take them back. Some bitter part of her recognised that Jack was right; she’d nearly been dead today, her promise to her mother unfulfilled, the peach pit knotted in her hair to be laid to rest only in infertile dust and sand beside her broken body.

Jack was a means to an end, and if he no longer thought her worth helping, she’d find another way. 

Distantly, Furiosa registered the pain that the decision brought her, but she wrenched herself to her feet anyway, forcing herself to step away from him and towards her possessions. It hurt far more than was reasonable, but as she felt the spike of emotion, it dawned on her with horror exactly what had happened. What she'd been trying to avoid giving a name to this whole time. 

She'd become attached. 

Jack stayed immobile for a second, simply watching her with his jaw slightly slack until she leaned down to pick up her crumpled shirt. Suddenly stirred into action, he dragged his legs out of the water and twisted towards her.

‘Furiosa, wait.’ 

She ignored him, in too deep now, and desperate to escape as she pulled her shirt over her head roughly. 

Jack had stood up now and moved towards her, his arms reaching out automatically as if to stop her.

‘Listen, that's not what I meant-’ he tried, but her face was unreadable as she turned to him.

‘It doesn’t matter’ she bit out, closing the gap towards him abruptly. Face to face, Jack found himself halted by Furiosa’s palm lying flat against his chest, his expression blindsided. ‘I’m leaving. After the next run. If you try to stop me, or tell anyone-’ Furiosa choked out the next part. ‘I’ll slit your throat.’

Instead of backing off at her threat, Jack took a step closer, pressing into her palm. His own hand came up to circle her wrist loosely where it lay against his chest. Furiosa could have pulled herself free easily but she hadn't expected this and she stilled, staring at where his hand covered hers.

‘There is nothing else out there, Furiosa.’ Jack said, exasperation clear in his voice. ‘Beyond the Bullet Farm, beyond Gas Town, it’s just dust. Dust and death. I’ve tried, but…’’

Feeling a light pressure on her wrist, Furiosa watched stunned as Jack turned her forearm over, exposing the stars tattooed on her skin. 

‘...Whatever you’re looking for, it doesn’t exist.’ his voice was softer now, imploring her to hear him. He’d said it to her before, but hearing it anew in that pleading tone was unbearable.

Yanking her arm away from him like he’d cut her, she shoved her sleeve back down and covered the tattoo up again, trying to muster back her anger.

Turning away before her face could betray her, she pulled away from him, grabbing the rest of her stuff and swiftly crossing to the ledge.

As she lowered herself down, she registered Jack unmoving where she’d left him - but even as she tried to ignore him her eyes found him again unbidden. 

She pushed away the lump forming in her chest, but the sight of misery in his eyes burned itself irreparably into her retina. The sooner she left, the better.