Work Text:
I'm down to my skin and bone
And my mommy, she can't put down the phone
And stop asking how I'm doing all alone, alone
But the truth is the stars are falling, ma
And the wolves are out c-calling, ma
And my home has never felt this far
But all this driving
Is driving me crazy
And all this moving
Is proving to get the best of me
And I've been trying to hide it
But lately
Every time I think I'm better
Pickin' my head up, getting nowhere
Take me back to the basics and the simple life
Tell me all of the things that make you feel at ease
Your touch, my comfort, and my lullaby
Holdin' on tight and sleepin' at night
Holdin' on tight and sleepin' at night
Now I'm down to my skin and bones
My baby listens to me on the phone
But I can't help feeling like I'm all alone, all alone
The truth is, the stars are falling, babe
And I'd never ever thought that I would say
I'm afraid of the life that I've made, I've made
But all this driving
Is driving me crazy
And all this moving
Is proving to get the best of me
And I've been trying to hide it
But lately
Every time I think I'm better
Pickin' my head up, getting nowhere
Take me back to the basics and the simple life
Tell me all of the things that make you feel at ease
Your touch, my comfort, and my lullaby
Holdin' on tight and sleepin' at night
Holdin' on tight and sleepin' at night
I've been lyin' to them all
I don't need it anymore
Don't you worry about me
I'll be fine if I can breathe
I've been hidin' for too long
Taking shit for how I'm wrong
How I'm wrong
Always wrong
Take me back to the basics and the simple life
Tell me all of the things that make you feel at ease
Your touch, my comfort, and my lullaby
Holdin' on tight and sleepin' at night
Holdin' on tight and sleepin' at night
Holdin' on tight and sleepin' at night
Holdin' on tight and sleepin' at night
(Take me back to the basics and the simple life)
Holdin' on tight and sleepin' at night
(Tell me all of the things that make you feel at ease)
Holdin' on tight and sleepin' at night
(Your touch, my comfort, and my lullaby)
Holdin' on tight and sleepin' at night
---------------------------------------
There used to be a name for this, Max thinks.
This feeling of being trapped in your own mind.
He wakes up gasping and ready to punch every night. He’s sick of it.
He is sick of his hands always shaking. He’s sick of always hearing things that aren’t there, sounds from his past which have come back to tease him. He is sick of not having a proper sleep in what he thinks must be years.
He knows it’s worse when he is away from the Citadel, but this is something he tries to ignore. He doesn’t let himself think of the possibility that maybe there is something at the Citadel that makes him at ease. Or someone. He doesn’t want to be tied to someone like this. He’s only survived this long by staying alone and isolated. Mostly he prefers to be alone. Well…he used to anyway. He also doesn’t want anyone else to trust him. He isn’t reliable. He isn’t trustworthy. But he thinks maybe it is too late. He thinks maybe people already count on him.
He meanders around the Wasteland for a few more days, but the open expanse and the far off horizon stopped providing any type of comfort long ago. He is constantly on edge out here now, but it isn’t because of any kind of threat; it is because of the people that follow his shadows, that whisper in his ear, that he sees out of the corner of his eye but are never there when he turns to look.
He sighs to himself when he sees the green tops of the Citadel in the distance.
The Sisters hug him when he returns, and he bears the contact because he knows how happy it makes them.
The ghosts that follow him stay back and are seemingly happy to leave him alone for now. He breathes a sigh of relief, mostly because now he feels like can actually breathe.
After much fussing they let him leave and he wanders off to find Furiosa. After checking the look out posts and then the garage, he eventually finds her in the gardens, helping dig up some potatoes. He hesitates for a second in the doorway, wondering suddenly if maybe she hasn’t missed him as much as he has missed her. But then she notices him and her face opens up, moving into a wide smile, and he feels himself relax and move towards her. They embrace each other tightly, revelling in the contact they had been denied since he left.
He helps them pull the rest of the potatoes, enjoying the simple and mind-numbing physical work. He and Furiosa then retreat to her room, which, if they’re being honest, is also his room. He had his own once but after some time of Max coming to hers in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep and eventually his room was forgotten.
There is food on the workbench when they get back and he guesses Capable had something to do with it. They eat in a comfortable silence, but as usual Max inhales his food, so while Furiosa finishes her meal he gets himself ready for bed, his eyelids already feeling heavy.
He begins to shed his layers, feeling able to do so in this place of comfort and safety. He takes of his jacket first, which is then followed by his boots and socks, and then his pants. Here in the Citadel he even has a separate pair of not-as-dusty pants that he sleeps in, to avoid making the bed too dirty. He pulls them on and when he is done Furiosa is finished with her food.
Max gets up and moves over to her, hands reaching to help her take off her prosthetic. She leans into his touch and lets him do all the work; he lets out a soft chuckle.
Once she is ready, they move over to the bed. They lie down facing each other, and Furiosa murmurs a small “I’m glad you’re ok.”
Max feels his heart contract at this, and he can’t tell if it is out of happiness or panic. But then she traces his jaw and nose and lips with her soft fingers and thinks maybe it is out of happiness.
He presses his forehead to hers and they breathe each other in, and Max feels his body begin to relax, muscle by muscle.
He moves his head back to look at her when he speaks, “I don’t think I can…I don’t think I can do it anymore. Leave. Wander. It has stopped, uh,” he pauses, looking for the right words, she doesn’t rush him. “It has stopped helping.” He looks at her again, and he knows she understands that he has more to say.
“I think I might know what will help. Maybe…maybe it is, ah, staying.” He doesn’t want to get her hopes up, so the next part comes out in a rush, “but I’m not sure, I might still leave.”
To her credit she doesn’t look disappointed, but understanding and open.
“I think you’re right.” It’s all she says, but he knows she understands everything he couldn’t say.
He presses a feather-soft kiss to her forehead and then to her lips and for once he thinks he feels at ease.