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At least his little girl wasn't alone anymore.
Max never thought that his dead companions and tormentors would leave him after what happened on Fury Road. He knew redemption was beyond him no matter how many he helped. Yet something did change. No longer did she reach out for Max. Now someone held her hand.
Angharad had been radiantly beautiful and that is how she appeared to him. She seemed right at home with a child by her side, finally the mother she had been destined to be. The little one seemed at ease as well. For one peaceful moment, they were perfect. Then they were angry. They were so, so angry.
'You let us die, Max. You just let us die. You let us die, you let us die Max, you let us die, you let us die, you let us die you let us die you let usdieyouletusdieyouletusdieyoulet--'
Max rolled over and shot up from his makeshift bed. It consisted of a flat rock as a pillow and his jacket as a blanket. He was tucked away under a rock formation, only just enough room for him beneath it. In the roll, he pulled out his pistol and pointed it into the nothingness. At least, he expected this. What he actually did was point his pistol straight at Furiosa, standing patiently outside his hovel.
It took a moment for what remained of his sense to come back, but once it did he immediately lowered the gun. "Hn." It was the only greeting he offered. Max didn't know what else to say, as he couldn't decide if he was surprised or not to see her out here, this far from the Citadel.
If she was surprised by him or his gun, she didn't show it. She waited for him to come back from his nightmare, then nodded. "Hi." Furiosa then used her head to gesture to the emptiness beside him. Max nodded, and she sat down. She made herself comfortable, leaning her head against the rock formation. "You're worrying my scouts," she informed him. Max forced himself to sit upright, shambling his way into the position. "They keep telling me about a man hovering on the outskirts of our borders." He leaned his head on the rock too. Max closed his eyes. This already felt more restful than where he had been an hour before. Whether it was because the sun had finally gone down or if Furiosa was next to him, he couldn't say. Honestly, he didn't care. "Just making his way around," she went on with a knowing tone, inviting him to give the explanation she already figured out. "Circling the Citadel day after day." His eyes were still shut but he knew she turned her head to face him. "They think you're trying to find a point of attack."
Max huffed in something that might have been amusement. He wasn't sure. "If your soldiers are too afraid to come look for one man, you have a problem--"
"They are not my soldiers." Furiosa corrected him with a quiet fire in her voice that singed the side of his face. Max opened his eyes and turned his head. He gave her his attention. Then he raised his hands in contrition. It hadn't been the word he was looking for. Max was always bad with words. He made a note to search harder for the right one next time. She must have saw this, because she let it drop. "Actually," she went on, more calm, "they were getting ready to send a party out here. I told them I'd go myself."
Max responded to this news by grinding his heel into the sand. The loose particles on top shifted easily, but he was soon met with hard ground. The husk that remained of the world. "Must've worried them."
Furiosa shook her head. "No." In the safety of the nothingness around them, only the sky and Max to bear witness (and Max had closed his eyes again), she smirked. "I think they figured out a while ago that they don't need to worry about me."
"Hrm." Max's lips twitched as well. It hurt. They were chapped, as always. Water made its way out to the Citadel's edge, but it never lasted long. It was still worth the twinge of pain to have something to smile about. If he could count on anything, it would be Furiosa's strength. He cracked open one of his eyes. The grin faded. After a moment of deliberation, he asked, "Even the girls?"
By the time she faced him, he had looked away. Max could feel her gaze on him, paint a picture in his head. It was too aware. "They get by," she answered. "They fuss over me at times. Toast triple-checks my ammo. Cheedo overstuffs my med pouch. But they know the deal." For a moment, it seemed like she would let it rest there. Max doubted it, and sure enough after her own pause Furiosa broke the silence with, "Think they're more worried about you."
Max issued a noise deep from his throat. What could he do with that? Worrying was a fool's errand in this world. Something was coming for them all. It would come for Max sooner than later. Angharad and the girl swam in his vision. You let us die. He jerked upright, his body moving in a single violent twitch. Furiosa turned herself to lay her good hand on his shoulder. He barely registered it. No, those girls shouldn't worry about him. He lost that right.
“Fool.” Her voice and that name brought him back. He turned to face her fully, sitting on his knees so his body faced her as well. Naturally, Max could not see his own face. But when he saw hers, he imagined his looked similar. The gaze was searching, looking for an answer too complicated to grasp.
Under the stars, the never-ending night sky, Max felt covered. Things lost to the night could seldom be found again. So it was here, he could say, “I shot her. Hadn't even wanted to hit her. But I did. Her leg...” He saw the crimson trickle down her calf. He watched her eyes go wide as they all realized the inevitably of her falling off the war rig. For the first time Max could ever recall, the girl stood back. Angharad's fury was enough on its own and she unleashed it with all her might, so blinding, and Max thought he might have heard Furiosa call his name but it was drowned out, consumed by Angharad's shrieking cries, that same accusation again and again, it filled his ears and his brain and his heart, it shook him about, it claimed his tongue as he opened his mouth to finally, at last, say out loud what they wanted to hear, “I let--”
Pain, real physical pain, rocked his jaw and Max fell over backwards. He landed on his back. He stayed for one moment, two, then raised himself up to a sitting position. He blinked a few times, swaying in his spot. Furiosa lowered her metal arm and looked at him expectantly. Max gingerly touched where she had punched him and drew his fingers back to see a smattering of blood. The fingers on her hand must've ripped a bit of his skin away. Max looked from her, to her replacement hand, then back to her again. She merely shrugged, no apology to be found. “You weren't answering me.”
She dragged Max back with her good arm to lean against the rock again. He let her. While he got himself comfortable, she sighed and ran her hands over her head. If she wasn't sure what to do with him, that made two of them. Furiosa mirrored his position, knees bent, arms resting on them. Together, they took in the desert air. It was crisp, a cold night welcomed after the hot day. They sat like that for a long time. Max had no idea when he drifted off, but later in the night he woke to the sound of Furiosa gathering her things. He made no noise himself, but she looked at him the second he moved his head. Max nodded at her. She had to go. She had her place in the Citadel. It had been what she was after. She started to turn when Max asked.
“Did you find your redemption?”
She turned back. Furiosa looked down on him and for the first time Max saw what she looked like when she was surprised. Her head tilted to the side and her eyes widened. He caught her off guard yet it did not take her long to answer him. “No.” Her gaze wandered up to the many stars. “I figured it out, Max. You can't have redemption without forgiveness.” Then her eyes rested on him. She seemed pained to say it, but Furiosa never was one to run from the truth like he was. “And you can't get forgiveness from the dead.” Max bowed his head. She was right, of course she was. Then how-- “So I did something else.” His head remained downcast but his eyes sought her out. Furiosa stood tall. Her head was high. Max didn't know about her life before they met on the road. He didn't know if she had her own dead coming for her (but surely, surely she must) and if she ran like he ran. Whatever she did then, nothing would move her from where she stood now. Furiosa said,
“I stopped looking for it.”
She slung her bag over her shoulder. Max opened his mouth, maybe to ask another question, but closed it as soon as he started. Furiosa pulled her bike to her. “If you ever decide you want to take a break from patrolling,” she told him, “the Citadel is always open to you.” She hopped on her seat. Before gearing herself up, she gave him a sideways glance. “... There are people there who would like to see you.” With that, she threw her jacket on and strapped her goggles around her eyes. She kicked the bike once, twice, then it roared to life. Furiosa had her back to him and was ready to go, but she couldn't resist one more thing. “Plus you know, I really think you'd like what we've done with the place. Wouldn't recognize it.” With that, she revved the engine and sped off into the night.
Dust kicked up in her wake and Max chuckled deeply. It was the hardest he laughed in a long time. It felt foreign and stretched muscles he had forgotten about, but it felt good. He rolled over and went back into his rock crevice. It was still confining and uncomfortable, but he was able to fall asleep in a few short minutes. They would come back. They always did. Yet in that moment, and for the rest of the night, Max's dead stayed away.