A/N; S. E. Hinton owns all rights to The Outsiders, the characters and just about everything else Ponyboy related. I make no money from the use of her characters in plots of my own design. However, my husband wishes I'd stop doing this and write my own material for a change. Men, can't live with them......

Spring's Resurgence

Chapter 1

Running From Demons

XXX

"How's the kid this morning?" Steve was looking at me, his concern genuine. Rare, his showing it. I grimaced as I tried to find an answer.

"Quiet. Said he had a headache but insisted it wasn't a hangover."

He laughed. "Like he would know what a hangover feels like."

"He's been drunk before," I reminded him.

"That one time was so long ago, I doubt he'd remember it. Besides," he said with his voice dropping. "That was right after your folks died. He was more than a little messed up back then. You all were."

I nodded, memories of that time still painful to recall. He pulled up to the DX and let me out. "Do me a favor, get his books out of his locker for me... bring them over this afternoon. I know he won't be allowed to test on it, but he'll at least be able to keep up."

He nodded. "That I can do. See ya this afternoon."

"Bye Steve."

I watched him leave and got my keys out, heading into the office to punch in and open up for the day.

XXX

I wiped my eyes of the tears that seemed to drop on their own. I still shook, but less than before. I didn't know whether to believe it or not, but it made me feel better just to hear it - that she was on her way. My head pounded in synch with my heart, each beat causing a throb in my temples. I needed something to stop the pain before it got so bad I couldn't see, and went to get the pills from the kitchen. However, they weren't there.

I looked in every cabinet, searched every drawer; but they simply weren't there. I tried the bathroom cabinet and the first-aid kit too. Still nothing. Then I remembered Darry'd brought me the pills last night and probably left them in his jeans. I found the jeans in his laundry basket, but the pockets were empty - nothing but a receipt and a penny left behind.

Now, on top of being in pain, I was angry. My head was killing me and he takes away the one thing that will fix it. Never mind the many kitchen knives and switch blades in the drawers, just forget the chemicals under the sink and out in the shed. Nope, if I was gonna kill myself, it'd surely be with an aspirin overdose.

I grabbed my shoes and headed out, walking up to the store to get something for my head. I paid the clerk and swallowed some even before leaving the place, hoping that by the time I got home, the throbbing pain would at least be tolerable. Once home, I glanced at the dishes by the sink and ignored them. Same for the small clutter in the living room. I knew Darry was pissed that I hadn't done what he'd told me to do, and I still didn't care to do it.

My hands shook and my chest hurt, and I knew what it was that I wanted. A cigarette. The more I realized it, the more I wanted one. Then the more I wanted one, the worse it got knowing there were none here to have. I already knew there were none in the house – he'd let Two-Bit store his juice here, sure, but the smokes had been banned since I'd come home last summer. Even if Soda'd wanted any, he'd have to go find someone to bum one off of.

My skin crawled for one, making me itch. Before I knew what I was doing, I was literally clawing my skin raw for a single stick to smoke. The walls were crashing in and I had to get out. Out the door, out the fence, up the street... the urge to smoke being my constant shadow as I circuited the neighborhood. Just as in Hollis, when I ran the length of Mrs. Nixon's property night after night, I tried to outrun the overwhelming desire to light up. I ran until I was breathless, when sweat poured off me, when my headache's pain had been replaced by a relentless itch that I couldn't scratch without anything but a cigarette.

Eventually I collapsed, breathless and sobbing against something cold and concrete. When I looked up, I nearly stopped breathing entirely, terrified of where I was. I didn't set out to come here, that much I was sure of. Still, here I was, leaning against the bubbling fountain where over a year ago I'd nearly been drowned and Johnny had killed Bob.

There was no one around. The only sounds besides the water's bubbly flow were birds in the trees and distant cars out on the highway. The whole thing was surreal as I looked at the past staring me right in the face. Bob's blood was gone, the concrete a grayish white. The fountain water was clear- an errant leaf or two floating in the water while a few others had sunk to the bottom.

I stood, looking at the fountain; my sudden terror gone, the urge to smoke forgotten. The old fountain gurgled along, almost daring me to touch it. I hesitated at first, then dipped my hand in the water. As expected, it was cold; but nothing more. I sat on it's rim, looking around. The swings in the distance swayed with the breeze, the merry-go-round sat still and a little off kilter, just as it always had. Lovers and little kids; that's what this place was for. Not for teenagers fighting to survive. I got up and headed home, tired and drained. The past, the present... both turbulant. The future, a question still unanswered.

XXX

"Mom, I've never asked much of you before, but I have to now."

Mom was folding clothes, piles of washed laundry all over the bed. She turned to look at me, skepticism in her eyes. "Whatever are you talking about?"

"I know I scared you when I left in the middle of the night from Mrs. Nixon's, riding off into a snowstorm on a whim..."

"And with little more than a jacket, don't forget," she said sternly. "You could have frozen to death out there."

"I know. But I didn't. It was a thick jacket and gloves too, don't forget. But if I hadn't gone, Sodapop and Ponyboy might have frozen to death instead."

"They had their truck. I'm not saying they wouldn't have been cold, but I seriously doubt they would have died."

"Mom, please!" I implored. She stopped folding and sat down, waiting.

"What is it?"

"I have to go back to Tulsa." I said carefully, my words dangling.

She smiled, I couldn't tell if she had already dismissed my request or was laughing at me. "Oh no you don't."

"Mom, please!" I insisted again, stepping closer. She looked at me again. "He needs me!" I didn't have to explain who, she already knew.

"Linda, I'm sure whatever is wrong, his family can take care of it. The State made his oldest brother his guardian for a reason. He's not our responsibility! Besides, Tulsa isn't around the corner, it's all the way across the state! You have school...."

"You know school is cancelled. They said on the news the broken water lines wouldn't be fixed forat least two days. That gives me today, tomorrow and the weekend to go down, fix whatever is wrong and come home."

"Honey, the last time you went to Tulsa, that gas station blew up with you just across the street! I can't even fathom what could happen this time. Don't forget, your father has the car. You have no way to get there and back. And as good as Newman is, he won't get you there."

"I'll take the bus... pay my own way, even. I've saved my allowance."

She looked at me more sternly. "You are this determined, aren't you? That no matter what I say, you will find some reason and method to go?"

I hesitate before nodding. "I told him if he ever needed me, I would come. I have to go, Mom. I have to."

"He means this much to you?" Her question was more a statement, but still, I nodded.

She sighed, looking at me - reading my determination. "Let me call Agnes, see what she can do. But Linda, I'm telling you now, do NOT think this is going to happen again and again."

I smiled, thankful. I knew Mrs. Nixon would help – once she heard it was for Ponyboy. Whatever's wrong, I hoped he'd be alright.

XXX

I managed to make it home before four, the first time I'd done that in months. I'd also called off from the warehouse, knowing that like it or not, I was going to have to handle this situation with Ponyboy. I had no clue what was going on in his head. One moment he's doing great. Playing basketball and going out for pizza. Then he's charging some robber holding a gun. Then he's falling asleep in my arms and now... he's getting into fights at school, smoking and drinking when we're not around. I'd heard of teenage rebellion, but he was taking it to extremes.

The radio was off and the house silent. I noticed the dishes still sitting at the sink and frowned. Likewise, the rest of the house hadn't been touched. Down the hall, his bedroom door was open but he wasn't there. Up further, I noticed a lump on Sodapop's bed and paused. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, his legs bent and tucked into an S shape. I bent down at the side of the bed and touched his forehead, glad he wasn't feverish. He was still pale, why I didn't know. Next to him on the desk were the tetrazzini bowl and the glass of Tang, neither touched, the yellow liquid all settled out again.

"Hey, Pone," I called softly, barely touching his shoulder. I noticed he'd at least changed into day clothes at some point in the day, but it smelled like he needed a shower. "Ponyboy, wake up kiddo. Time we had a talk."

His eyes went back and forth, I knew he could hear me. He knew as well as I did that I wasn't leaving until we hashed this out. He opened his eyes and looked at me, then averted his eyes again.

I sat by him, the old bed creaking under my weight.

"I think maybe Sodapop could use a new set of support boards under here, what do you think?"

He shrugged but kept quiet.

"What happened yesterday?"

A momentary pause later ... "Got busted for fighting."

Ah, yes... like I'd forgotten. "Why were you fighting?" I so hated dumbing this down. He knew what I was after but seemed to want to do this the hard way.

"Some guys were razzing me for losing the game. They pushed, I punched; then I went to the office to wait for you."

I nodded. "Couldn't avoid it? Wait until after school hours maybe, when no one would see you?"

His green eyes zeroed in on me. "Sorry. Next time my face meets metal, I'll ask for a rain check."

Well, at least his apathy had turned to sarcasm. It seemed a step in the right direction. "Okay. So I brought you home, told you to clean up... but instead you decided to smoke and get drunk."

Back he went to being silent, locking his eyes on something else. At times, it was like pulling teeth with him, only I think that would have been easier.

"Ponyboy? Why?" I readied myself for the long haul, knowing this might take a while.

"I was thirsty."

I groaned inwardly, watching his expression. Passive, noncommittal. Apathetic again. He knew it was wrong, but didn't seem to care either. I swear, his mood swings were worse than a woman's. I leaned over, my elbows resting on my knees as I stared at him. "Talk to me, Ponyboy. What's going on in your head?"

"Nothing."

I knew better than that. His brain never slowed down. Problem was, while the rest of us had an outlet for pent up energy – roofing, cars or... God knows what Two-Bit did; Ponyboy had no outlet. He spent too much time thinking. If thoughts were liquid, his would be oozing out his ears. This was going nowhere. It also seemed pointless to ground him for drinking, since these days he rarely left the house.

"Have you eaten today?"

"No."

"Well, come on. I'll make you some tuna," I said as I got up.

"I'm not hungry."

It stopped me like nails on a chalkboard. That one line of his was going to make me pull my hair out eventually. "Suit yourself, but I'll make some anyway and leave it in the fridge for you."

I closed the door behind me, wondering how long this was going to last.

XXX

Calla Lily Rose