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New Fic: Treasure

Treasure
Fandom: Mad Max: Fury Road
Rated: G
Category: Gen, friendship. Max, Furiosa.
Summary: For them, silver is definitely more precious than gold.
Word Count: 623.


---

His fingers were bloody and cracked, but he didn’t care.

He’d seen a glimpse of it – just a flash of silver – and he wasn’t about to let that go.

So he kept at it, pawing at the grit that kept falling into the hole he was making nearly as fast as he could remove it.

But his work was progressive, and finally, he reached it.

And there it was: someone’s cache. An old ammo box, broken open but with its contents still somehow intact and sealed in plastic.

There were several bars of what he recognized as food from back in the day.

He’d eat those later, despite their age.

There were bandage materials.

Those he’d use those mostly right away.

The pills he’d ignore, because he had no idea what they were.

He’d leave the box but take the plastic and he’d treat it well keep things not so much dry as sand-free.

But above all, there was that silver. The stuff he’d use so sparingly but for so many things.

He couldn’t remember what it was called, but that color was unmistakable, and he knew its value.

So he hoarded it, using only a piece or two when he absolutely had to.

And it wasn’t until he ran into her again that he shared it, using a length of several inches to repair her prosthetic.

She’s stared at him for a long moment before speaking.

“Where did you find that?” she asked.

He shrugged and gestured vaguely to the desert.

She shrugged back. “Doesn’t matter,” she said, “but…”

She trailed off, blinking several times, like she was confused.

He furrowed his brow and finally spoke.

“What?” he asked.

She gestured just as vaguely as he had a moment before.

“It’s just… I think I’ve seen that before. What’s it called?”

And suddenly, he knew. In a flash, the words came back to him from the old days. He shook himself a little and blinked in surprise.

Then he actually smiled.

“Duct tape!” he announced, seeming rather proud of himself.

Furiosa’s response was automatic.

“What’s a duct?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, just as quickly, giving her another shrug.

And he didn’t.

He had no idea.

Neither did she.

And suddenly, that was just ridiculous.

Furiosa laughed.

It started slowly, then bubbled into a full-blown belly laugh.

He looked at her like she was crazy for a minute.

But then, very slowly, he laughed, too.

And once he got going, he laughed more and harder than he had in ages.

They went on like that for a while – neither of them could’ve said how long – before they settled.

When they did, he packed away his magic tape while she checked her arm, which was working well enough again to get her home, where she could fix it more permanently.

(The repair ended up not happening for three months, but that was beside the point.)

As he closed his pack, he met her eyes briefly, then flicked them to her arm.

She nodded at him, letting him know she was good.

He nodded back and stood.

A moment later, they went their separate ways again, not another word spoken.

Furiosa knew better than to ask for more tape, and he didn’t offer.

His silver was too precious to him for that.

So he continued to treat it like the treasure it was, and if it was even more valuable to him now because of a memory of a friend in the desert, he wasn’t generally consciously aware of that.

But sometimes, when he noticed a patch of silver on his pack as he bedded down or when he fixed something with it, he very nearly grinned.

And in the Wasteland, that was enough.

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