CRAU for notjustanother

[handle_with_care]

The youngest. The most fragile. The untouched.


Cheedo alone out of Joe's former wives stands at the citadel, holding her arms and gazing over the inexplicable green of it all. She watches over the sapling of what she hopes is a peach tree. She hopes she's around to see it bloom and one day taste its fruit.

Furiosa had returned, talking about things inexplicable and unimaginable to her, and at first Cheedo believed it had all been sunstroke or madness that really took her.

But then things began growing.

And the people began appearing.

Such strange people they were, too. Cheedo had balked when she first saw them - an instinct she's surely regretting now - but slowly began to appreciate when not only did they not look at her the way Joe and his Warboys had looked at her, but had actively stopped others from doing so.

She admired their leader. So much more handsome than any Warboy she'd ever seen. She learns his name is Biggs. She tells him her name.

She tells him much more later on. Slowly she inches her way into his life, a shadow of him.

She finds him in all corners of the citadel, fascinated by his movement but not knowing how to speak to him. Her hands twist around her hair, girlish and alien.

She finds him in the trenches, at the waterhole, in the newly planted garden, and pretends like it's coincidence that she's there at the precise same time.

And then she finds his back to her, and reaches out to take his hand.

Comments

I will not type this much again after this I promise X_x

[notjustanother]

Life in Citadel is harder than it was in Seattle, especially for people who are generally very susceptible to heat exhaustion and have metabolisms two and three times that of the average human, but it's a different brand of hard mostly. There had been a bit of the automatic fear and anger that people exhibit towards anything new and different at first, but whereas in Seattle that had festered and grown into active panic and hatred, here - many of the citizens of Citadel saw the advantage, as Furiosa had, as Alec and eventually Biggs had, of integrating an entire group of designed and trained soldiers into their population. Of giving them a place and a reason to work towards the safety and prosperity of this place not just as their duty, but as their home.

But seeing the potential didn't necessarily mean having any better idea how to accomplish it, so Biggs had had his work cut out for him from day one. Alec was charming and convincing in the short term, and Furiosa was invaluable for validating them, but most of the transgenics viewed Alec as a traitor and a coward and wouldn't follow him very far; Furiosa was still learning, herself. So Biggs had stepped into the role of leadership he'd assumed at Manticore, easing interactions between humans and transgenics, interpreting civilians for soldiers and vice, and generally being steady and accessible in a way Alec had never learned. It was effective, but exhausting.

He'd noticed Cheedo early on, and assumed much of her shyness was of the same nature as most of the humans. Furiosa respected her and named her as someone who would be invaluable at closing the gaps between their people, so he would have taken care to acknowledge and approach her even if he hadn't found himself naturally inclined to do so. Unlike many of the transgenics, he was capable of being calm and patient and making space for her when she had something to say; over time, he found himself seeking her out too, and he was always aware of her lingering somewhere nearby when she was there. It rang familiar in a way he didn't notice himself recognizing: of furtive moments stolen from under watchful guards, of affection that would be the death of anyone caught showing it, of danger all around and a small, fragile source of succor amidst it.

That was not the case here, but it made it comfortable for him, made it so he knew exactly how to respond when he did to so little else in this new world and this new setting. Made him actively relieved to see her more and more as his relationship with Alec - once so dependable and as trustworthy as anything could have been about their lives at Manticore - deteriorated daily, and nothing he did seemed to help. Made him aware that she was around even if she chose not to actually speak to him at all, that let him know she was standing very close but without expectation it would mean anything.

He helped haul the nutrient rich soil up here from the riverbed below to make this garden. Most of the transgenics don't see the point, most of the humans don't think it's worth it, but Biggs showed up and now he's here for a short break in the relative shade and coolness, surveying how it's changed and settled with only a few short weeks time and how it might look months, even years from now. He doesn't startle when he feels her touch his hand, though he's a little surprised nonetheless. He doesn't whirl or jerk away. He smiles, and after a moment, lets his fingers curl carefully against hers to let her know it's okay, to invite her up beside him although he doesn't turn just yet in case this is the most she can do.

"Hello, Cheedo."

don't apologize for long tags!

[handle_with_care]

Cheedo, who shows affection by touch more than anyone else here, settles her chin against Biggs' shoulder and clasps onto his arm with her other arm. Wary of everyone until proven otherwise, she finds herself needing to be near others. Like the Dag before him, Biggs provides that level of companionship and doesn't try to shove her off or hit her. He's never even raised his voice in anger.

"Hello Biggs. What's happening today?"

fiiiiiiiine

[notjustanother]

There is violence coded into his muscles and his bones, he was trained to fight alongside learning how to walk - he is dressed much closer to the bands of warriors that still go out into the dunes to explore and engage enemies before they reach Citadel's lands than the people starting to live here - but it is not his preference. That doesn't make learning that every person that touches him doesn't intend to hurt him any easier, really, but he's capable of it.

He stays still while she moves, dark eyebrows pulling together faintly, but finds the smile hasn't faded. He shifts so he's turned a bit more towards her.

"We have a scouting group going out this afternoon that I'm going with, but we finished the perimeter ditch out on the west field. Once we get some towers built out there, it'll be safe to work." They'd finished faster than they expected, but Biggs is still afraid maybe they've missed the opportunity to get a crop from it this year. "How's your garden?"

[handle_with_care]

Biggs is strong like Rictus was, though not as tall, and Furiosa lets them be alone together, so he must be safe. Cheedo relaxes against him, turning her gaze to look at him in her intense, scrutinizing way. Not all the men are safe: not all the women, for that matter. But things are much better than how they've been.

She decides she likes his face, and smiles back shyly.

"Growing." She answers, glancing towards where she can barely see the green from where they're standing. "The seeds took root weeks ago. There's this new water system the wastelanders are trying."

She stops herself, because wastelander is what Biggs is - what everyone outside the Citadel is - and she doesn't want to insult him. Not out of fear, but some other feeling she can't quite name.

"Sorry."

[notjustanother]

Biggs, once accustomed to standing immobile for review by investors come to check in on their product, is not bothered by scrutiny in general. The part of him that had once been conditioned to be cleanshaven and fresh faced at all times squirms a bit maybe - he has Italian genetics in his code so he's not as bad off under the sun as some, but he has dark stubble now that it's just not practical to shave off every day, and he spends a lot of time in the sand and the dirt and soap is still a luxury for the majority of people here - but that's not the feeling he attaches to the unusual way his gut squirms.

It distracts him when she uses a word that he's heard others use as a slur, as a divisive measure, but that doesn't particularly upset him. He's been called a monster by people he'd never lifted a finger to harm, who created him to die in their wars so they didn't have to anymore. At least wastelander infers he belongs with a group of people.

He shrugs, guessing what she means: "It's true, isn't it? Or it was. Hopefully we can lean on the land part and work to clip that waste part off."

[handle_with_care]

Biggs, apart from most she's known, stands rigidly still. A little like how the first Wastelander did: the one who began it all. Maybe that's why she feels safer around him than the Citadel's own.

Even without the bathing, she's never met anyone so clean before. It tickles her nose a little to smell him. It's not a bad smell, but it's not one she's sure of, yet. Unfamiliarity bleeds into everything the two - now three - societies do together.

"Can I come with you?" She asks, suddenly, alive with the freedom of choice. No one to ask permission except whose company she'd be intruding upon. The other Wives have long since ventured out to wider worlds and back, but Cheedo was always the one to stay closest to home. She's not bold like the others. But Biggs, if he lets her come with, won't let her be hurt.

[notjustanother]

This is what had first caught his attention about her: this spark of sudden curiosity, sudden bravery. There are a lot of harsh, over the top personalities still in all camps and it would be easy to let someone as still and quiet as Cheedo go unnoticed - but every now and then she does this, and surprises him, surprises a smile out of him.

It would be wrong to call her naive. He can see that she's not, that anyone that grew up here cannot be. But he does hesitate.

"We're traveling fast and light." Scouting, not fighting; everyone must always be ready to fight at a moment's notice of course, but if they do encounter trouble, their job will be to run home and get reinforcements rather than eliminate it. But it does mean: "We're using the bikes, and we mean to cover ground. That sounds like something you want to do?"

[handle_with_care]

"I can be fast. And I'm already light." She says, without a hint that she's being humorous. Tempers can turn on a dime, and she means no offense.

"I'll ride with you. Won't get in the way." Cheedo says, opening up to the idea more herself now that she says it aloud. "And you can show me what you've been working on, instead of just telling."

[notjustanother]

"No, I just mean -" What does he mean? The fastest human still has difficulty keeping up with transgenics on a mission, and the scout groups are the most daredevil of all of them, even more than the war parties. They show the fighters where to punch, and even Biggs has trouble sometimes not getting left behind.

But her last words spark a new idea in him, making him shake his head. He draws back a little to study her, not smiling now, but not dismissive either. Measuring.

"Forget the scout run. I'll send Alec, he's better at it anyway. How comfortable are you away from the Citadel?" His dark eyes are steady, warm - not judging, but he needs an honest answer, needs to know what they're both getting themselves into with this.

[handle_with_care]

Cheedo hasn't seen the transgenics in action yet. She's heard stories, but in a world that requires cars and trucks and bikes to get anywhere without dying, running seems like a precious waste of fluids.

She stares back, fingers twining her hair as she shrinks under scrutiny. The question hits her in an unexpected way; Cheedo withdraws, unsure what Biggs is planning .

"I've been beyond the wastes and back once. But I'm not your thing to take."

[notjustanother]

Biggs is careful to let her pull back, even steps back himself slightly to show that he won't chase after her. Not like this.

He holds his arms at his sides, palms turned towards her - empty, not a threat - and fingers loose even as he tries to work out where the wires crossed.

"I would never try to take you anywhere you didn't ask to go," he says, carefully. "Nor would I allow anyone else to if I could stop them. I want to show you what we've been doing out in the wastelands, and there's a lot of it, so I just want to make sure I'm taking you somewhere I can be sure I'll be able to bring us back from."

[handle_with_care]

Her face heats up; Cheedo, primed to assume the worst, had done so to Biggs. Maybe he means what he says. He wouldn't be trusted by Furiosa if he wasn't, she reasons.

"I'm not afraid of the wastes. Not afraid of dying either. I can go in disguise, make us less appealing to take."

The likelihood of two scouting men being bothered by scavengers is far less than than a man and woman. She knows she isn't a Thing anymore, but that won't prevent stronger forces from killing Biggs and taking her.

But she's satisfied her worry that he's not luring her out to take her himself.

[notjustanother]

Biggs wrestles with that offer - it appeals to his practical side, to the part that is a tactician first and moral second. But it also affronts the part of him that believes in the world he's been told they're building, the one where she can walk as herself and fear nothing.

It's a long ways off, that world. Biggs is strong, well trained, and canny. Most of the other territories haven't figured out how to combat the transgenics effectively yet, and that almost certainly means he'll be either underestimated enough to win easily, or overestimated enough that two people on a bike would be able to avoid any show of force meant to harm them.

"I don't intend for either of us to die any time soon," he says, evenly, stalling a bit. "Dress as you feel safest," he decides. "I just - everyone that's going on the scouting runs right now are fighters. It's mostly still too unpredictable to take anyone that can't handle a weapon easily, or ride a bike back to Citadel if they're the only survivor. It's good to get everything mapped but it's also - they aren't looking to the future. They're looking for a fight. I want to show you something that I want to know what you see when you look at it."

Someone who sees potential, not Valhalla.

[handle_with_care]

"I won't be a burden." Says Cheedo, after considering Biggs' words for what they are. Her hands fidget; she crosses her arms to stop them, still getting used to the clothing around her. "I can do whatever you want if you show me. I'm learning how to shoot and then I won't be just something to look at."

She's growing more insistent these days. Now that terror doesn't fill her, she's finding the great luxury of boredom.

[notjustanother]

This is why it's Biggs that the transgenics typically send to smooth things over with the humans: compared to a transgenic, physically speaking most humans are - strictly speaking - a burden. There's a reason most mixed scouting parties that go out have almost twice the number of human casualties as transgenic, and it's not because of cowardice as many insinuate.

Biggs does not say this. He nods, solemn. "I know." But it still bothers him - how she drew back, the insistence that she's not a thing, the statement that she's just something to look at.

"You are more," he insists. "That's why I want your opinion, and you don't need to shoot for that to be important to me. Learn, yes, be safer. But if I ever make you feel like I'm treating you like a thing - if anyone ever does - I want you to tell me. That needs to stop."

[handle_with_care]

Cheedo considers Biggs, turning his words over in her head. At last she comes back to him, leaning into his shoulder once again. His arm she places around her, purposeful.

"You're not like any other person I know here." She says. "It's confusing sometimes. But I think you're safe. You're good."

[notjustanother]

The barcodes that all but the newborn transgenics have at the base of their skulls don't mean a thing to the people of Citadel; the kind of technology that would catalogue them the same as it would bottles of salad dressing on a grocery store shelf is long gone. But Biggs has one, too. He knows what it felt like being a commodity, a tool, a thing.

He lets her pull his arm around her again and, after a moment, settles it there himself.

He grins, lopsided, young in a way he usually simply doesn't seem even though he'd bet they're around the same age. "Well, then it's working, isn't it? I'll do my best to live up to you."

He's unprepared for how much he finds he means that once he's said it, but clears his throat and continues instead, "Grab about a day's worth of water and something light to eat. I'll find Alec, get my bike, and meet you by the southern gate?"

[handle_with_care]

Joe didn't mark his Wives as he did his Warboys. Furiosa will always have his brand at her neck. Biggs' marking is strange but only where it's a load of lines and not any symbol Cheedo knows, not that he has one. She's the strange one for having practically no markings at all.

She finds herself smiling too, bright and curious.

"You're a funny sort of man, Biggs." She tells him. Honestly, live up to her? What's that even mean?

"All right." Reluctantly she extracts herself, and goes to find the water carers.

And steals a glance over her shoulder at him as she goes.

[notjustanother]

He could answer her - the novelty of being called a man, unprompted, has not yet quite worn off it and maybe it never will - but instead, he winks and squeezes her shoulders briefly before he lets her go. When she glances at him he's still grinning back at her, and winks again. Then he finally goes to find his pain in the ass co-commander.

The bike he has with him at the gate, his own waterskin and oil cloth roll hanging behind the seat, is not quite as bare bones as some of the others the scouts ride, but it's not very highly decorated either. Some of the warboys insisted - he's a leader and a warrior, he should be fearsome, should be honored - but he's kept it to a few chrome accents and some superfluous spikes here and there. It's not really meant for two but he's taped some of said spikes protruding from the well worn seat together to make enough space for him to shift back or forward and have enough room for someone Cheedo's size to hang on.

He's added a simple shirt, which he normally forgoes in the heat, anticipating they'll possibly still be out by nightfall; the long rifle he carries any time he leaves Citadel is in its holster on the bike, along with the long knife and the smaller handgun at his ribs and thigh.

[handle_with_care]

She gives a small smile, a warm feeling overtaking her when she looks back at him. Cheedo finds that it's getting easier for her to look men in the eye again: especially Biggs, who can smile without evil intent behind it.

She comes down with an old canvas backpack, olive green and sturdy, packed with food, water, and an old army blanket. She has no helmet, only goggles to protect her eyes from dust clouds. Cheedo neglects to tie her hair back: it makes it more obvious that she's female, but he said to dress how she wanted, so she does.

Boots take some getting used to: she has a leftover pair, stuffed with rags to make them fit. There are no weapons on her, but she holds a pair of binoculars tightly in one hand, befitting a role of a scout trained to spot trouble before it arrives.

[notjustanother]

There are always people watching in Citadel. The ranks are filling out very quickly, and the safest place for most of them is within the natural and augmented walls which has them living basically on top of one another. Biggs preparing to go out on his bike is a common enough site, although plenty of people still have this or that to talk to him about when they do see him. Seeing Cheedo walk up to him dressed like she's going with him, though, is another matter entirely.

Biggs doesn't like the way he feels the atmosphere change, the way it goes temporarily still and even a little tense, so he straightens up from where he's checking the gas tank and walks to meet her. It would be unwise for anyone to do anything violent inside Citadel, but the population is not well known for its common sense just yet. He smiles for her, anyway, remaining watchful as he offers to take her pack to strap to the bike.

"Have you ridden before?" he asks.

[handle_with_care]

She keeps her eyes focused and straight ahead of her, like how Furiosa taught her to be. Chin up, pretend like you're deaf. If you hunch your shoulders, or if you look weak in any way, they'll prey on you.

Seeing Biggs smile makes her step lighten, and she can pretend it's just like the Before times that she never got to see.

"In cars. Never bikes." She tells him, shrugging off her pack in surrender and walking over to set her hand on the seat.

"No one to travel with." Bikes seem more intimate, somehow. Her heart leaps in trepidation.

[notjustanother]

Biggs doesn't know anything about those civilized times either; he was a child soldier locked away in a single compound away from everyone and everything civilian for most of his life, and by the time he was cleared for field missions, the Pulse had decimated society as everyone talks about it. Citadel isn't drowning in raw, irradiated sewage anymore. It's a step up.

But some things persist: he's wary of the people around them for no reason he can pinpoint - he can defeat several of them unarmed if necessary and help would come well before he was overwhelmed - as he ties her pack down.

He grins at her. "Well then we're both in for a treat. Nothing like it," he promises her. "I'll start it up and then you can climb on behind, okay?"

[handle_with_care]

"Okay." Cheedo repeats, a little dazed from the speed in which her desires are made real. She waits, holding her arms as if cold, despite the desert climate.

[notjustanother]

The motorcycle is a kickstart, and it is loud. At top speeds sometimes fire will lick out from the exhaust pipes but here, now, it only roars to life to a few scattered cheers around them, a few calls of good luck. It doesn't matter why they're going. Many want them back.

Biggs lets the engine settle a bit, then gestures for her to climb on behind him. "Feet here - and don't move them," he shows her. "And hang on to me tight."

[handle_with_care]

Cheedo jumps, even though she knows what to expect by now. Her cheeks burn in embarrassment when others around her start making a racket: for a second, she'd imagine it was just the two of them.

But it soon will be.

She steels her nerves, reaching out to settle a hand on Biggs' shoulder and climbs onto the bike behind him. No room for hesitation now.

Cheedo lowers her head, pressing her forehead against Biggs' neck and does what she's told. She's seen what happens when people fall off these things.

"All right." She calls, and then louder so that she's heard over the roar of the engine;

"All right, let's go."

[notjustanother]

Biggs is solid beside her as she figures out how to climb on, patient and steady and ignoring the other people. Most of the scouts will put on some kind of show on the way out the gate, spinning their wheels to rooster tail dust up behind them or spinning their bikes in circles.

Biggs, reaching down to close his hands over hers, urging her snug against him because the margin for error is so very slim, doesn't so much as move until he feels her settle. He revs the engine then, making it spit and sputter and growl, and then takes them in a broad, sweeping circle in the clear ground by the gates to let her get a feel for it just a bit.

Then he drops his sunglasses down over his eyes - "Here we go!" - and takes them out the gate, picking up just enough speed to cruise along the hardpacked earth.

[handle_with_care]

Suddenly afraid of falling off the bike, Cheedo squirms to hug Biggs closer, close enough to smell the motor oil and smoke and dry heat that seems to steam off everyone here at the Citadel. She shuts her eyes and gives an unsteady gasp, hugging him tighter when the engine starts up.

But it's not hard to get used to the rough, shaky ride, and she peeks open once they're through the gate and the sounds of other people fade away.

[notjustanother]

Biggs is very, very confident in his ability to ride this bike over and through anything. His eyes and mind process movement much faster than humans can and he's strong enough to force the front wheel straight through that same anything; his balance is nearly perfect, and Cheedo's weight is barely significant as long as she stays close to his center.

It's nicer than he'd thought, having her leaned against his back and wrapped around his waist. He doesn't need to drive particularly fast to get where they're going, doesn't have to pull any stupid stunts, so he doesn't in order to give her time to adjust. He cruises along the hardest packed, most level road they have at a leisurely pace until he feels her relax. Then he revs the engine again - he hears the pop at the exhaust that means it belched a bit of fire but nothing spectacular - as a warning before he opens up the throttle and hurls them forward.

The landscape out this side of Citadel is still mostly sand and clay but there are streaks of verdant green growing in the shaded nooks and crannies of rock formations where the water gathers and the sun isn't so harsh. They've dragged back all the wreckage from the fighting it took to secure this track from road scavengers and Vultures, so it's almost peaceful enough that Biggs could drop his guard. He doesn't. He wouldn't even if he was sure of them not being bothered.

He's headed straight for some bluffs just at the edge of visibility from Citadel. When the established road bends away from them, he yells "Hold on!" and turns off it into loose sand that makes the engine cough and kick up a gear, and their rear wheel yaw and slide a bit more than it had on the dirt, though Biggs has it well in hand.

[handle_with_care]

She has seen horrific crashes on these bikes; mangled bodies of Warboys dragged back to the Citadel to be mourned and torn for parts. Nothing is wasted, but everyone can become waste. Which is why it's such a delight and surprise to be riding with Biggs for the first time. He seems to be able to do things, see things, that no Warboy could see and correct the bike in time. Cheedo doesn't relax her grip, but she lets her shoulders drop a little from the fearful position they'd been in.

She gives a gasp and clutches him tighter when the bike suddenly surges forward. Her scream is a mixture of fear and, strangely, delight. When the turn comes, her face turns away from the sand on instinct, breathing against Biggs' back in short, tight beats.

[notjustanother]

The scream threatens for only a bare moment to throw him off, briefly concerned that he's actually scared her though it's not enough to effect how he handles the bike at all. There's no hitch or slowing when he considers that sound against the way she tenses but ultimately relaxes again as much as she has so far. That's when he grins, and regardless, they keep going.

The sand alternates with hardbaked earth, with a scattering of small stones here and there, and finally - the only thing he slows down for appreciably - mud. He doesn't terrorize her, doesn't jump anything or whip around corners like he does when he's alone, not this time anyway. Maybe, if she likes it, next time. Maybe, he catches himself thinking, if she wants to go with him regularly.

Here, now, shortly after their tires first spin and slide on wet dirt - even though he catches them, easily, with a bracing foot on the arc of the slide - he finally lets off the throttle and lets them idle to a stop. When he straightens, he grins over his shoulder at her, sunglasses dusty and mud-speckled, but lighter than he is in the city.

"Still on back there?" he asks.

[handle_with_care]

“Silly boy.” She chides, laughing in her own quiet way. Cheedo marvels at her own daring, never having tried to talk back in the Before times. Her legs are wobbly even from the short ride, and she’ll be dirty once they have to go back. But for now her eyes are bright, a shiny brown. She leans in and in another moment of daring, presses her body up against his in a way that isn’t only concerned with not falling off the bike.