Chapter Text
The Open Waste, on the road to Bartertown
“Oi, Lancer. Lancer?” A hand closed lightly on her shoulder. “Furiosa?”
Furiosa jerked awake; somehow in the lantern-lit darkness, she had fallen asleep leaning over the warm engine.
“Lancer, what are you doing?” Coil looked at her curiously; there was no sign of accusation in the Driver's voice, just good-natured concern.
“Nothing, nothing." Embarrassed, Furiosa finished tightening the last of the bolts and ducked out, trying to and failing to stifle a yawn.
Coil took up the lantern and she shut the hood. It closed with a satisfying thud.
“Have you slept at all?” Coil raised the lantern to reveal the dark smudges beneath her eyes.
“Um.” Furiosa looked away, afraid of his anger.
Suddenly Coil laughed. “Of course you haven't. You're too responsible. All right, come on. Let me show you a lancer trick, and then we'll bed down for the night.” Coil gestured for her to follow.
“So when you're in the basket, you take your top belt...” Coil paused, glancing at her waist. “Oh. Oh no. No, this is my fault. Lancer, I am so sorry.” Coil fussed, undoing his belt. “This is your first run, isn't it? Should have said more, should have given you more direction. You're just so good at all this; I thought you would know. And look at you, you're so new that you don't have a top belt yet.”
Frozen with fear, Furiosa's eyes darted around; there was nowhere to run in the deep, complete darkness around the car. Without the moon, not even the convoy could move, and besides, where would she go? All around were other cars, some with their lanterns lit, some in darkness and the War Rig, and beyond that the open waste.
But Coil merely took off the upper double looped belt, the one that was made from two thick belts sewn together and sat mostly useless on his waist.
“Here, take mine. It's not like I have any use for it now. I've had this one since I was a Revhead, so it should fit.”
Cautiously, Furiosa took it from him, and slipped it around her waist.
It was still warm from the heat of his body.
She cinched it around her waist, securing in the ends.
“All right, let me show you, Lancer.” Coil offered Furiosa his hand, firm and warm, and helped her up onto the back perch.
“See that metal clip on the front of the belt? You clip it to the basket's support strut, the one in the middle, and then you lean against the curve of the cab. That way you can take tiny Lancer naps up top without worrying about falling off. If there's any real trouble, you'll hear it from the War Rig; the horn'll sound and wake you. Or I could yell at you myself. You're not a heavy sleeper, are you?”
“No.”
“Good, so nap when you can.”
“I thought we weren't supposed to sleep on the road.”
“Lancer, that's an ideal that no one is expected to match.” Coil shook his head. “Rules are rules, but sometimes they're impossible to follow. There are always workarounds, and the more you do this, you'll find there are big stretches of road that are safe as nests. Really the only one who's not allowed to sleep while the car is running is the Driver. Now come on, we're going to bed. We got five, six hours before we head out again; it's time to get some sleep.”
“It's okay, I'm fine.”
“That's the order, Lancer.”
Coil paused before the driver-side door, his hand on the metal frame of the car. “Lancer. Yesterday, what were you doing when we were supposed to be resting?”
“Cooling off the engine. Checking the car. Cutting my hair and touching up the white.”
“Ah. And how long did that take you? Each task.”
“Um. two minutes. Sixteen minutes. And uh.”
“Say it.”
“Two hours?” Furiosa winced, afraid Coil would be mad, but then it would be better than being alone in the car with him. Perhaps if she was lucky, he'd let her sleep leaning on the cab in the lancer's basket. The wind blew cold, but it would be better than risking whatever he wanted in the confines of the car.
But then, her life was already in his hands; Coil was the Driver, and whatever he wanted...
Furiosa found herself tense, trembling, and it was not from the icy wind.
“Two? Hours?” Coil doubled over laughing. Ashamed, Furiosa looked away, embarrassed that he was making light of her.
“Oh, Lancer! You're more responsible than any War Boy I've ever known!” Coil choked back his laughter. “No, listen: tomorrow night, before we make the last leg to Bartertown, the convoy stops and we all fix each other up. Takes a few minutes each. Then we sleep when the moon's down, and when it's bright again, we get going. Lancer, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to laugh. I wasn't laughing at you, I swear. Just at the situation. It's not your fault; it's mine. Just...I don't know what I was thinking. We should have really talked more about what I expected from you and what we do on the road. Your first run being your first Bartertown run.” Coil shook his head. “You just seemed so together. Thought you knew it all already.” He opened the door for her. The Driver's seat was already reclined down flat. “Come on, get in.”
She hesitated. The lantern showed his muscled form, his broad shoulders and narrow waist, but it didn't show enough of his expression to tell his intentions.
“Lancer...” Coil shook his head. “The night wind is going to get in and make the cab cold. Get in.”
Furiosa had no choice; he was the Driver, the crew lead for their crew of two, and if he gave the order, she had to follow. She remembered; that was what the Ace had told her.
Tense and afraid, she got in, the seat warm and springy beneath her.
“Move over.” And Coil pointed her to the narrow floor beside the Driver's seat.
“Oh! Sorry.” She quickly moved off his seat and got over, and here she was trapped; his car's exhaust pipes ran over the passenger side door, effectively welding it shut.
“So there should be two blankets down there. Take one and put it under you, and give me the other one, all right?”
“Yes, Driver.” She handed him one of the blankets and did as he said, spreading out the other blanket awkwardly over the cold metal floor, smoothing it as best she could, all the while wondering what he wanted from her. Outside the car, he seemed friendly, companionable even, but in the confines of the car she was palpably aware of his presence, of the danger implied in his heavy muscles and firm, calloused hands.
“All right.” And suddenly, there was a sharp motion, the sound of quick movement and she flinched, but it was merely a blanket coming down over her, with a little whoosh of displaced air.
“Sorry, they don't usually give more than two blankets per car. That means we'll have to share. Make sure you cover yourself proper; tuck the bottom one in around your sides and make sure the top one's covering your liver.”
“Huh?”
“Right here.” Coil patted himself, and then he laughed again. “Oh, I'm such a fool. You can't see what I'm doing from down there.” He turned onto his side, facing her, and then patted the whitened skin just below the central join of his ribcage. “Right here. Make sure that's covered and warm.”
“Um.”
“Lancer, I'm putting out the light. Get some sleep, all right?”
Furiosa nodded, and making sure she was settled, he blew out the lamp.
The darkness was engulfing and immediate.
The faint scent of kerosene and soot clung to the inside of the cab, a warm, comforting scent, and she closed her eyes.
Furiosa thought she would be too afraid to sleep with Coil right there above her, inches from her, his breathing steady, but then she closed her eyes, meaning to rest for just a little bit and suddenly she was deeply asleep.
When she woke the next morning, Coil was gone, and the blanket was tucked around her, doubled up on itself for warmth.