Recipient: @busyfollowingbees
Gifter: @closetextrovert
Fandom: Mad Max: Fury Road
Notes: Merry Christmas, have some feels! I'm not too good with writing AUs but I always like thinking about what goes through characters heads the night before the big plan / final battle / etc., so I thought I could use that for a more tender scene and discussion about things between Valkyrie and Furiosa. Nice choice in movies, by the way!
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The moon hung over Furiosa, and the wasteland lay ahead.
Part of her still felt like this was nothing more than another dream. That she was back at the Citadel waiting for the next day’s convoy to start – or even stranded in the desert, dying of exposure and injuries from the storm she had driven everyone into.
If it had been just a few hours earlier, she would have preferred death to this. She had failed. She had promised a safe haven, a place of greenery and growth, where they would never again have to fear a man’s touch. Instead the Green Place was nothing but poison, and the countless sisters and mothers whose words and memories let her sleep at night reduced to seven.
Seven.
Angharad had died for seven women, trapped between the soured remnants of Furiosa’s home and the salt lands.
They’d be making the trip in the morning; time enough to gather what little water they could, allow the wives and Nux some rest from their journey, and redistribute weight among the bikes after Furiosa had granted one to the man who had come with them all this way. In the meantime someone still needed to keep watch in case Joe was able to find their trail again, and Furiosa couldn’t sleep even if she wanted to, so taking first shift was natural for her.
She had failed.
Angharad was dead because of her.
She shook her head. It wasn’t true- she couldn’t have known what had happened to the Green Place. Angharad’s death was an accident.
Angharad had died for her. She had promised their protection, but they had to step in and get involved...
She had failed.
Hope was a mistake.
That was what the man had said to her, before they parted. But hope was what had kept her alive these countless days, long, long past the death of her mother. The only reason she hadn’t died as well was the thought of returning home, the knowledge that she would do whatever it took to survive. No matter the monster she would have to become, she would see home again, and she would bring the other five women to live there, and then…
And then what? Redemption? Forgiveness for what she had done, the blood she had spilled to get there? Too late for that now- they all had blood on their hands, and the Green Place had become as sick and rotten as she felt. There was no redemption to be found here.
Do they go back- no. It was too late for that, far too late. It made Furiosa disgusted to even consider the question. She would die before letting Immortan Joe destroy the one happy memory she had left.
More destroyed than it already was, of course.
That left the salt lands. She had never heard of anyone making it through there… but there was nowhere else to go. Hope may be a mistake, yes, but what else was there? How can you fix what’s broken when you can’t even tell what’s whole anymore?
… She could always leave.
She had done what she had promised. Even if it was sour now, she had still taken them to the Green Place – most of them – and they were now under the care of the Many Mothers. Maybe there were more groups who survived, elsewhere. Maybe they didn’t need her anymore.
She was so tired, so very tired.
Maybe she could set out ahead, figure out whether there was anything out there. And if she never came back…
Movement. Behind her. A scout? There were no lights, no other sounds, but if they had found the women-
Furiosa whirled around as she grabbed a handful of sand, and would have thrown it into the figure’s eyes if she hadn’t seen the long hair and tanned skin at the last second.
Valkyrie covered her eyes anyway, stepping back with her arms raised. The first of the Vuvalini she had seen in over seven thousand days, and Furiosa had nearly blinded her.
She stared for a minute and then turned, staring back at the horizon. There was nothing she could say, nothing to say.
So it was a surprise when the other woman came and stood next to her.
“Second watch is up, you can head back”
The time had gone by faster than she thought, apparently. So much for the ‘scouting ahead’ plan. “I’m still fine. You head back to camp.”
“Not a chance. The keeper always wakes up by third shift, and I’m not sleeping any time soon.” Valkyrie took off one of her robes, laying it on the ground for a place to sit next to Furiosa. Not a surprise, up until she gestured for the imperator to sit next to her.
Furiosa was so surprised by this that she found herself sitting down out of reflex. They had embraced before, back when she had thought that she had finally come home, that things would be all right, but then-
“I’m sorry.” Wait was the other woman talking? “That you had to see things like this.”
Furiosa nodded. It was the only thing she could think to do.
“For what it’s worth, we tried everything we could. Filters, wells… any knowledge we could find or remember. But…”
She had to ask. She had to know. “How long ago?”
“Too long to remember what it was like, and not long enough to forget.”
Furiosa nodded again. She knew that all too well. She’d know that feeling for the rest of her life, however long that was. She remembered the two of them pressed together, sisters reunited after a lifetime apart without ever having met before, but now the thought was stifling. Maybe she should head back after all, and just-
“Do you think this is a mistake?”
That got her attention. Furiosa looked back at Valkyrie, who was now sprawled out on the cloth, eyes on the stars instead of the horizon.
“The salt lands?”
“Yes. I understand the need, and I respect the Many Mothers’ decision, but it still feels like we’re…”
“Running away.” Running. How long had she spent running? Running from raiders, alongside Joe’s men, leading the War Rig on convoys, fleeing the citadel, and now... now there wasn’t even a destination.
Valkyrie gave a small grunt of agreement. “I remember the vote to leave the Green Place, when it was clear we couldn’t stop the poison. My mother wanted to stay, to hold onto the hope that there was still something that could be done.”
Furiosa glanced over. “Did she?”
“She stayed. I wanted to as well, but she sent me off. She promised that when I came back, it would be even more beautiful than I could imagine. You can see how that turned out.” A small laugh, more to mask weakness than show joy. Furiosa knew that all too well.
“I don’t know if she’s still alive… I pray she isn’t. I could never imagine her taking up those stilts and shrouds. And I know she would rather die than give up on any hope of returning.”
Furiosa stared… then lay down, next to her newfound sister. She still had her ears, she told herself. If Joe’s army were searching for them instead of licking their wounds, they’d be heard long before they were seen.
The sand seemed… cooler than she remembered. Softer. Even at this time of night.
“What does this have to do with our trip?”
“If we go out there, we’ll die. I trust the mothers with my life, and the people you brought… they’re driven, to come this far and give up so much. But hope can only last so long against… that.”
“So we give up?”
“No- I don’t know.” The other woman took a deep breath, released in a slow sigh. Calming breaths, taught by the Mothers to every youngster when they were old enough to risk their energy turning into danger. Furiosa found herself breathing along, the two of them on their backs, both knowing what would happen tomorrow. “But if we die, I would rather die-“
historic on the fury road
“- knowing that it was for something. That we won’t just be fools who went into the saltlands and burned alive, or- or crows in some mirage of life because we refused to change. If my blood will lead the way to a new Green Place, so be it… I just want to be sure that’s where we’re going.”
It sounded like the war boys. Almost too much like them, dying for some false afterlife and the fleeting respect of their leader. It was what almost killed Nux, before he relented and joined them willingly. But at the same time-
Furiosa, explaining her plan to the Wives, creating enough of a diversion for them to hide in the war rig, waiting for the best moment to pull off the road and start her real drive.
Angharad, knowing that no War Boy would dare fire on her, let alone Joe, using that knowledge to save Furiosa’s life at the cost of her own.
The man, the blood bag Nux had pulled along, going out to do what had to be done. She had seen the pain on his face, knew what that action had cost him, and yet he did it because…
Because that was the only way to save everyone, like Valkyrie had said.
Hope is a mistake
Hope had brought them this far… but it wasn’t enough. Not now.
She squeezed her hand – her hand of flesh and blood, not salvaged parts – and found that she had been holding on to Valkyrie’s, who turned and gave a small smile.
Maybe the man was right. Maybe nothing could be fixed.
She pressed her head to Valkyrie’s, the only other heat in this cold night.
They would still all set out tomorrow, she knew. Unless they could find something to hope for, the journey was all they had.
Maybe she would die. Or Valkyrie. Or everyone.
Furiosa felt a hand rest on her shoulder, gently.
But it would not be for nothing.
One way or another, they would be free of the Immortan.
And one way or another, Furiosa would be home.
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She found Valkyrie’s body a few days later.
She never remembered the battle itself – only the man returning, and pointing their hope to something… substantial. A place Furiosa had hoped never to see again, but this time they would be traveling to claim it. To destroy Joe’s control not only over the wives, but over the wasteland itself.
She had been wounded, she knew that much. The pain was still felt even after several days of rest. But she did not remember getting hurt; instead, her mind kept drifting to that night on the sand, holding and being held by a woman whose body was now destroyed by steel and petrol. The most intimate she had allowed herself to be in her seven thousand days of survival.
She found what remained of Valkyrie, and had her buried with the other Vuvalini. They would be… not honoured, not after the War Boys and Valhalla. But remembered. Talked about. Their deaths had not been necessary, but they knew that and fought anyway.
Because of hope.
More than that – because they had something they could hope to fix.
Maybe that would be Furiosa, eventually… maybe not. But she knew that for one night, for one moment, she had been home.
And it was time for the survivors, the last of the Many Mothers, to make another one.
