They were late. Twenty minutes late. They said they were coming right home after work.

Darry sighed and drummed his fingers on his armrest. Ponyboy was sprawled out on the couch, his nose buried in a book. He hadn't said anything, but Darry kept catching him glancing at the clock. He was worried too.

After everything that had happened, it was hard not to be worried, even about the smallest things.

"We'll give them ten minutes," Darry told Pony. "And then we'll go lookin'."

Pony bit down on his lip and nodded, glancing one more time at the clock.

Darry picked up his newspaper and started reading the sports section. Something to distract himself while the seconds continued to tick by.

At exactly ten minutes, he and Pony jumped up at the same time, prepared to go on a manhunt for Soda and Steve. They had just finished putting on their shoes when they heard the truck pull up outside the house.

"Oh, thank god," Darry breathed. He opened the screen door and peered out.

Soda was helping Steve out of the truck.

Darry's eyes widened as they came up the drive, Soda's arm wrapped tightly around Steve's waist, helping him walk.

He quickly went to their aid, positioning himself on the other side of Steve, looking the boys over carefully as he helped them in the house.

Aside from a busted lip, Soda appeared to be unscathed.

Steve, on the other hand, looked like he'd been to hell and back. His face was beaten badly, his clothes torn, his head resting on Soda's shoulder. But the most troubling thing about Steve's appearance was the pool of blood seeping through his white T-shirt, just over the right side of his abdomen.

"What the hell happened?" Darry demanded, as he helped ease Steve into the couch.

"Steve's a fuckin' lunatic, that's what happened," Soda answered, his voice shaking. "He tried to break up a fight."

"They pulled a blade," Steve protested weakly. "On a kid. Couldn't've been older than Ponyboy."

"They cut him real bad, Dar," Soda said, pulling Steve's shirt over his head so Darry could take a look. "I wanted to take him to the hospital but he begged me to bring him home."

"It's jus' a knick," Steve mumbled. "I don't need a hospital. It looks worse than it is."

"You're bleedin' like a stuck pig, Steve," Darry told him matter-of-factly. "Ponyboy, go grab some towels, huh?"

Pony nodded obediently and disappeared out of the room.

"We have to stop the bleeding first," Darry said. He stepped into the bathroom and washed his hands thoroughly. Then he returned and knelt down by Steve.

"Here," Ponyboy said. He handed Darry three dishtowels from the kitchen.

"Thanks, Pone," Darry said. To Steve he said, "This'll sting, man."

Steve squeezed his eyes closed. He knew it would. They all knew. They'd all needed patching up before. He took a hitched breath, and Darry took it as his cue.

He pressed the towel down onto Steve's wound, holding it firmly in place.

"Gah!" Steve panted at the touch. "Shit."

"It's alright man," Soda said softly, resting a hand on Steve's shoulder for comfort. "It won't hurt so bad in a minute."

While Darry kept a firm hold on the towel, he asked for more specific details of what had happened.

"We were closing up the shop at the DX, when we heard some hollerin' down the street," Soda said.

"Socs?" Ponyboy asked.

Soda nodded. "They were jumpin' a kid younger than you, Pony. Three against one, and they were big. Probably football players. And like Steve said, they pulled a blade." He let out a deep breath. "Before I could stop him, Steve went charging down the street at 'em." Soda looked down at his friend. "What the hell were you thinkin', man? You didn't even wait for me to back you up."

"I just wanted to help the kid," Steve breathed. "You're right, I wasn't thinkin'."

"You haven't been thinkin' a lot lately," Soda said, clearly aggravated. "Not since—"

"Don't say it," Steve interrupted through gritted teeth. "I ain't havin' this argument again." He closed his eyes, his jaw set.

Darry, puzzled, raised an eyebrow and stole a glance at Soda. Pony too, looked confused. Soda just shook his head as if to say not now.

Darry sighed heavily as he placed another towel on top of the original. Some blood had started to seep through the first. "How're you holdin' up Steve?" he asked, keeping his voice gentle.

"I'm fine," he answered tiredly. "Can we turn on the TV?"

"Sure," Darry told him. "Soda?"

Soda mumbled something under his breath that Darry didn't quite catch. He turned on the TV and switched the dial until he landed on something worth watching: reruns of Dragnet. Then he disappeared into the kitchen. Ponyboy followed.

Steve sighed after him.

"What's going on with you two?" Darry wondered out loud.

"Nothing, Darry. Leave it."

Darry nodded and turned his head to look at the TV. But his attention was somewhere else completely.

It had been almost two months since the night Johnny and Dallas died, and none of the gang had quite been the same. Especially Steve.

A lot had happened to him in those two months, and Darry was afraid he was just barely holding it together.

First, Steve caught Evie with another guy, and he ended it. That was just five days after burying Johnny and Dallas, and it about broke him in pieces.

Steve practically shut down after that. Darry could tell by the dark circles under his eyes, the unfocused gaze, the way his voice shook when he spoke. He was dealing with heartbreak on top of grief. A crippling combination. The upside - if you can call it that - was that Soda had been through the same thing with Sandy. He knew what Steve was going through, and he was there for him. Empathetic if nothing else.

But it didn't stop there.

A week later, Steve's dad kicked him out. For good.

Darry still remembers his shock when he pulled open the front to see Steve standing on the doorstep with tears streaming down his face, a single duffel bag in his hands. He remembers how Steve hung his head, asking Darry if he could please stay with them - he didn't know for how long. He remembers Steve collapsing into Soda's arms, and the look of fear in Sodapop's eyes.

Because Steve was Soda's best friend, and he was crumbling fast. Because now Steve wasn't just dealing with heartbreak and grief - he was dealing with abandonment too.

They were all pretty messed up as it was, with Ponyboy getting over being sick, and the trial, not to mention burying two of their closet friends… Steve showing up like that had just been icing on the fucking cake.

"I think the bleeding's stopped," Darry announced to Steve, bringing himself back to the present. "Sit up, man."

Steve obeyed, trying to hide a grimace as he hoisted himself up into the sitting position.

"Why don't you take a shower and clean it up real good?" Darry suggested. "I'll wrap it for you once you're dry."

Steve nodded. "Okay," he said. "Thanks." He stood up unevenly. Darry stood with him.

"You need any help?" he asked unsurely.

Steve shook his head. "I'm fine," he answered through tight lips.

The past few weeks that Steve had lived with them, Darry had tried not to be "parental" with him like he was with Soda and Pony. But sometimes he couldn't help it. Now was one of those times.

"You've got to be more careful, Steve," Darry told him lightly. "I worry about you, you know."

"Yeah, I know you do," Steve said, his voice soft. "But do yourself a favor, and quit gettin' gray hairs over me."

"I don't have any gray hairs," Darry said promptly.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Superman." Steve managed to give Darry a reassuring smile. "Really. I'm okay."

I'm okay. The broken record mantra Steve had been living by the past several weeks. The mantra none of them bought for a single second.

Because Steve was sleeping too much and he was losing weight. And Darry was worried that pretty soon he'd lose his sanity too.

Steve might not want to admit it, but he was teetering on the edge.

And they were going to be there if he fell.

TBC...