Hello, everyone!

So let me begin this chapter by saying that, yes, I am aware this was released a day after the first chapter. I think we can all agree that we have those random bursts of creativity and it just so happens that I had one today.

I'm loving where the story's headed (I'll be honest and say I'm pretty proud of the story). It took quite a bit of work today, but I didn't consider it work as much I did just time flying by!

That being said, enjoy the chapter and, once again, leave any comment you like. I'm open to anything: mean, flaming, corrections, things you liked, etc.

And, for redundancy's sake, I am not promoting flaming or mean comments, but who's going to be there to stop you?

Enjoy!


- The Fallen Souls -

It doesn't matter who ran first-Socs are still Socs and Greasers are still Greasers.

Chapter 2

Faded vision was becoming clearer, but at an extremely slow rate. The light was not natural and everything was very dim. He saw blurs from another room and watched them come close, drop something soft on him, and walk out. The whole situation was very strange and he felt out of control. Finally he could move his head, but when he looked all he could see was red on his shirt and sheets. Everything was wet and red. Mind unable to comprehend what was going on, he let his head fall back onto what he assumed was a pillow. When his head stopped, though, he felt dizzy and there was serious pain on his forehead. He would try and feel what it was, but his hand wouldn't move.

Things were finally beginning to come into shape and he made out something that looked like his bedroom. The blurs that were going by looked like his brothers and he tried to call for Darry. Instead, a low rumble came out—not something either brother would have registered as him calling for them. When he attempted to lift his head once more, the pain on his forehead grew and he had to drop it. Now he not only was confused, but he felt like he was going to be sick. He attempted calling Darry once more, but there was no luck. This time at least something like a whisper escaped his lips, nothing more.

He could move his fingers a small bit and eventually his whole hand. His arm was fast to follow and he tried to feel his forehead. What he found upon the touch was a serious stinging and, when he saw his fingers, what was clearly blood. In a panic, he let his arm fall back onto the dark red sheets and tried to call for his brothers again. No luck. The pain in his forehead grew and he was now noticing stabbing pains in his back and right foot. The stabbing grew tremendously and soon he was trying not to cry from the near torment.

"Soda!" Ponyboy finally managed to yell. He felt lightheaded from the head wound and now from the gunshot wounds on the rest of his body. "Soda! Darry!"

Sodapop appeared in a matter of seconds with a cold cloth. His eyes looked frantic and, but he was clearly trying to hide it. He placed it on his brother's forehead, causing him to squirm in more pain than he had been before. The only thing that he could get his mind to stick to was not crying. He had barely cried at all in the past few years and he knew his brothers, well Darry, at least, wouldn't be able to stay calm if he did.

Darry walked briskly to Pony's bedside with some dry cloths to wrap around his brother's foot and to place under his back.

"Hey, Pony, Soda and I are gonna move you just a bit," Darry said, attempting to be soothing. "I know it hurts, I know it, but we gotta do it. On the count of three, a'right?" Ponyboy didn't respond, but Darry looked at Sodapop and nodded anyways. As he said, on the count of three they rolled Pony quickly into his side, despite the brother's yells of pain, and Soda quickly swapped out the towels that were bloody from his wounds with new, slightly damp ones. Darry rolled him back again and took the cold cloth that Soda had carried in, putting it on his kid brother's forehead. He noticed a tear falling down Ponyboy's face and wiped it quickly before Pony could notice.

Kneeling down, he looked dreadfully at his brother's pain-filled face. Ponyboy was helpless with these gunshot wounds and nothing he could do could change that. Sodapop ran out of their room and toward the kitchen for more towels and quickly ran toward Darry's room.

"Hey, Dar," Ponyboy grumbled through the pain. He crunched up again when his foot wound accidentally hit the sheets on the bed. Darry ran over to readjust his foot, which had, since the accident, stopped bleeding for the most part. Ponyboy continued, "I don't suppose we got new red sheets for the bed, huh?" He put on a fake smile which was quickly lost once more in the faces of his torment.

Darry smiled a bit too in an effort to make his brother feel better. "Nah, Pony, we uh," he looked down speedily, wiping one of his own rare tears so his brother wouldn't see. He changed the subject stealthily and looked back up with a slightly more shining expression, if possible. "You really got yourself in a bundle here, buddy." His single laugh was forced and it faded quicker than he would have liked. He decided it best to tell the good news. "Um, Pony, the ambulance is on its way—"

"How about Two-Bit," Ponyboy interjected through gritted teeth. "Is he alright?"

Despite being a bit shocked at this question, Darry answered calmly. "He's doin' fine. He's in the other room." He finished his statement just when a loud yell came from Darry's room down the hall. The oldest brother turned his head toward the door, about to get up and go see what was wrong, but figured it would be best to stay with Ponyboy. Soda could handle whatever was going on in there.

"He's doin' real good, huh?" Pony joked, laughing but stopping immediately when the slight bouncing became too much for his pain. He pressed down the cold cloth on his forehead, wincing and sucking in air to pull through. Darry ruffled his brother's hair lightly in an effort to make him feel better. Secretly, it also helped put his nerves at ease a bit, though he wouldn't tell anyone else that.

"You just worry 'bout yourself, little buddy," Darry soothed, still combing through Ponyboy's faded blond hair. He saw his brother relax a bit and attempted to control a content smile. While he hoped Pony would pass out again to avoid further pain, he knew it was a long wish. They sat there in silence for a small while, Ponyboy quietly grumbling in pain every few seconds.

Ponyboy said in a quieter tone, "Hey, Dar?"

"Yeah, Pon?"

The teen took a moment to get up the courage to ask his question. "You don't think Mom and Dad are lookin' down on us, do you?"

Darry thought about it for a moment before answering. He wasn't quite sure why his brother would want to know about their mother right now, but he thought up an answer to give Ponyboy a bit of relief from the matter. "I reckon she's not there right now. Probly knowin' that we can get by on our own, why?"

Ponyboy lay on the bed with the same emotion on his face that he'd had since he woke up. There was more silence in the room and a bit of tension before he responded. "I guess I just don't want her to see how weak I am." Darry's spirits fell. "Maybe she'd think I was being weak or something by laying here and not going to check if—" he winced in pain, stopping for a moment, "if Two-Bit was okay." He opened his eyes slightly to check if Darry was alright. He hadn't said anything for a while, but his expression was blank. Ponyboy closed his eyes tightly this time.

Darry remained silent and blank-faced. He was looking at Ponyboy though, so he had been listening. Since his brother wasn't doing anything and he didn't really get an answer, Ponyboy tried something he knew nobody would really approve of. He clearly was still lightheaded, but he didn't care; he needed to go see if Two-Bit was okay. He didn't clearly remember was happened, but he knew enough to safely say that he and his buddy had been shot by someone. Gathering all of the courage he could, he tried sitting up.

Darry took hold of him by the shoulders and rather roughly pushed him back onto the bed. Ponyboy's head hit the pillow and his vision went foggy for a moment. His back injuries caused his muscles to seize up and he tightened himself up in pain.

"You listen here, Pony," Darry said forcefully. He was hanging over Ponyboy and staring directly into his eyes. "Mom'd never think you were weak. If anything she'd tell you that you're brave for stayin' alive. You stop doubtin' yourself just 'cause you're in bed and got an ambulance comin'. If you think she'd say you're weak, just take a look at the sheets around you and tell me again!" He backed off and sat in his chair, putting his head in his hands for a brief second. He didn't dare look up to see what his brother thought of him at the moment and instead decided to keep his head covered by his hands.

The youngest brother didn't doubt himself as much as he was trying to make Darry feel less tense about everything. He had actually taken his mind off the gunshots and Two-Bit for a moment, but now he was circulating everything as he was a minute ago. Darry was turning back into what he was before the gang lost Johnny and Dallas: some sort of parent that Ponyboy didn't really want. Plus, now he was in more pain than he had been since Darry slammed him back onto the bed. More blood dripped onto the pillow from his head wound, making him more scared on top of everything else.

An ambulance siren came into hearing range and, as Darry was about to get up, Sodapop flew out of the bedroom, running toward the front door. When the door slammed, Darry got up, careful not to look at Ponyboy, and went to the front of the house. Ponyboy heard shouting from outside and soon enough two men were carrying stretchers toward the other room.

As Two-Bit was carried out, Ponyboy caught a glimpse of his completely red shirt, not terribly different from his own at that time, and was immediately downtrodden that he wasn't able to save him. That was the reason he left the house in the first place and now he had put pressure on the rest of his family and Two-Bit –more pressure than they deserved. It had only been a few months since he was nearly drowned and now he was in an even wore situation.

"There's another," he heard Sodapop say from the other room. He sounded fairly urgent and Ponyboy felt bad about that as well.

"We can only fit one in the ambulance," the paramedic said from what sounded like behind the front screen door.

A slam sounded from the front of the house which Ponyboy connected with the back of the ambulance closing up. He didn't know how long he could hold out being conscious with his horribly aching head and bloody gunshot wounds. The thought that the bullets were still lodged inside him made him particularly queasy.

Another loud noise could be heard and Darry's voice resonated into the room. "Soda, they have another one on the way. That's the best they can do."

The youngest brother thought he heard some sort of crying coming from the front room. "Why did they take Two-Bit then, huh? Why did he get to go when he only had one shot in him? Pony's got it worse right now!" Soda said loudly. Ponyboy felt better that Two-Bit was not as badly wounded as he was; that was the last thing a guy needed who was in a rough time like him. He heard a stifled cry before he heard Darry say thank you and apologize to the paramedic. The door shut, the talking ceased, and soon enough Sodapop was walking in by his younger brother. Darry sat down at the table, head in his hands once more, while Soda took his former seat.

"Hey, Pony, I'm sorry you had to hear that," he began, speaking through a clogged throat and wiping his face clear of any tears that might have sprouted. At this point, with so many tears shed that night, nobody really cared. "You know, you did the right thing. I don' care what Darry says. You did the right thing a guy should do by goin' out there to watch out for Two-Bit."

"Nah, you did the right thing by staying inside. Y'all didn't need this for me tonight—or ever, actually," Ponyboy managed to get out.

Sodapop sat back in the seat, looking at his brother meaningfully. His brown eyes dug into Ponyboy's soul so incredibly deep that he wasn't sure what to do. Then Sodapop abruptly got up, walked to the side of the doorway and kicked it with all of his force, making Pony jump. His green eyes popped, but he didn't notice any pain in his head, back or foot. He was too focused on his brother who was obviously crying and not trying to hide it. He did, however, notice Darry staring at Soda as well with the same expression as he was.

"Why does this happen to us?" Soda questioned quietly, looking at both brothers alternatively. "Why don't this happen to Socs, huh?" he asked, looking out the window. His anger was growing dramatically. "They get what? They get maybe a week's probation er somethin' and we get shot and get nothin' but grief in return! You tell me how that's fair!" Sodapop hit his greased brown hair on the door frame. He was now sobbing, attempting only now to wipe the tears from his face.

Darry stood up from his seat, acting carefully around his brother. "That's just the way things are, little buddy—"

Soda's red eyes now glared at Darry and his anger had reached an all-time high. "WHY IS IT THE WAY THINGS ARE? WHY IS OUR BROTHER LAYING THERE BLEEDING TO DEATH AND THE GODDAMNED SOCS JUST GET TO GET IN THEIR CAR AND PRETEND ALL THIS NEVER HAPPENED?" He now punched the wall with all of his force, cracking his knuckles. "WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN?" Foot kicking the doorframe rhythmically with each word, he gritted his teeth in fury and cried a bit louder. Every inch of him was filled with anger and he could no longer control himself. "We gotta do somethin'. We need to do SOMETHING. This has gotta stop." He whipped his head to look at Ponyboy who was, completely understandably, rather fearful of the tension that had escalated in the past few minutes. "We can't lose anyone else and we definitely can't lose you." Dried out, he trudged over to the bed where Pony lay, knelt down, and threw his head onto the blood-soaked sheets. He relaxed there for a moment, no one daring to bother him, before pulling his head up. "Pony, I'm sorry. It's just… they were gonn' kill you and we wouldn't'a been able to live without you an'… I'm sorry." He stood up solemnly and went to sit back in the chair next to his little brother.

Darry walked cautiously into the room at a loss of what to say. He said the first thing that came to his mind in hopes of making the situation better for everyone. He gently placed a hand on Sodapop's shoulder, who was still wiping the last of his tears from his cheeks, and looked over at Ponyboy. "You ain't gonna die today. Not now, not ever." He crouched down next to Soda and pulled his face lightly to look into his eyes. "And just 'cause it's the way things are doesn't mean it's gotta stay like that." Now, looking at both of them, he figured out what he was really trying to say all along. "They aren't gonna get the best of us because they treat us like trash. They aren't gonna win in the end." Looking down at the ground before continuing, he closed his eyes tightly and deliberately before regarding his brothers once more. "We ain't gonna lose because we're greasers. We're gonna win because we're all a family." A siren sounded once more in front of the house and Darry and Soda got up immediately to go get the stretcher.

Ponyboy was left again, noticing his wounds and trying to ease the pain by thinking of other things. Maybe Darry was right: we'll win the fight because we're family. He and his brothers were family and so were Steve and Two-Bit. Plus, they had the whole of four people looking down on them to help them out. He thought of Johnny climbing the bars at the playground and Dallas telling him how much of a kid he was. He thought about his parents rooting for them and helping them in every way they could. He knew that they wouldn't be torn down because they were the closest gang on the entire planet. For the first time that night, Ponyboy didn't feel anything but peace and happiness.

"He's in here," Darry said, popping his brother's dreaming.

Coming back to reality hurt the most because he was reminded of the gunshots. Ponyboy acted rather embarrassed when the paramedics came in and saw all of his blood on the sheets. Although they tried to hide their expressions, their mixed looks of disgust and astonishment seemed to win over anything else they had in their minds.

"We're going to lift you, alright? This may hurt a bit," one of the medics said and, without giving a warning, they hoist Ponyboy onto the stretcher. He immediately crunched up in pain, but tried to hide it from his brothers as he left. Like the paramedics with their expressions, he had a strong feeling he was unsuccessful.

For the last time that night, he heard the front door slam as they carried him out toward the ambulance through the particularly cold night. Had it been this cold when he went out for the first time? He didn't remember. He noticed the stars were actually showing; it was a clear night. He learned in Astronomy that the constellation right above his house at the moment was Orion. It looked so pure in the sky. Why did bad things happen to innocent people? Why did two near-death experiences have to happen under such a clear, kind night?

The small bumps on the way into the ambulance weren't as bad as being taken off of the bed for the first time, but they still induced their own amount of pain. Darry and Soda both insisted on going with them to the hospital, but they only allowed Darry on seeing as he was the oldest. Soda said that he'd be behind them the whole time.

By this point, with the amount of blood that Ponyboy had lost, he was becoming a bit woozy again.

"This might pinch a little bit," a paramedic said frankly. It didn't pinch—probably because of the other more horrid pain he'd felt that night. "Can you count backwards from ten for me?"

His blond hair falling back onto the stretcher and green eyes closing, Ponyboy did his best to follow that order. "Ten, nine, eight…" he trailed.

…seven, six, five—he was out.