I was awake most of the night, only managing to sleep for the first hour or so after each dose of pain medication. After that, I would jolt awake in a panic, the reality of my situation overwhelming me. I knew McQuade was in jail for the night, at the very least, but who knew what other Kings might have been instructed to take care of his business with me… I was sleeping with one eye open, pretty much.

I was seeing the guy's face every time I closed my eyes – every time the door opened, my heart raced until I saw that it was a doctor or nurse. I lay there thinking; wondering if there was any way to head this disaster off at the pass. I was determined that my original decision was for the best – that lying in court was the best thing I could do, for everyone. Hell, I'd already lied to the cops, I couldn't change my story now without getting myself into trouble. I could just tell Steve that maybe it was somebody else driving McQuade's car, that once I heard his voice and saw his build I knew it wasn't him. McQuade would be free, and I wouldn't have to be involved with anything going on between his gang and Shepard's. The lying part would be easy.

Somehow, though, I had to get to him, to tell him that it hadn't been me; that I hadn't ratted him out. He'd never have to know who it had been – hell, I wasn't looking to rip the target off my own back just to stick it onto Steve's – all he had to know was that somebody had ID'd his car… and that it hadn't been me.

Suddenly, as the nurse came in to give me my morning pills and change the dressing on my shoulder, it came to me. McQuade was in lockup. That was the place I could meet him, knowing he would be unarmed and unable to do anything before I got a chance to tell him what happened. My worries about him taking me down on the street somewhere, or even getting to me in my own house, before I got a chance to talk were, for the moment, calmed.

Now I had a new problem, though: How the hell was I going to get somebody to take me to the jail without an explanation? I figured I wouldn't be able to drive for a while – definitely not until well after he was out of the joint. It was gonna be a hard sell to get any of the guys to take me to the jailhouse to talk to the guy they believed – correctly – had shot me. I was thinking about it, when, suddenly, fate stepped in, shook my hand, and introduced himself, as the solution to my problem walked right through the hospital room door.

"Good morning, Mr. Curtis." It was the cop that had been there the day before. There wasn't a chance in hell I was gonna remember his name, what with all the pain drugs they had me on, but I did recognize his face.

"Mornin'," I responded. "You can call me Soda." Mr. Curtis, in my mind, was Dad, or sometimes Darry, but not me. He came over and sat by my head again.

"I assume you've already heard that we have a suspect in your shooting," he said. I nodded.

"We're going to need you to positively identify him," he continued, "as soon as you're able."

"Okay." This was it, I realized. They actually wanted me to see him. They were gonna bring him right to me, or me to him, while he was still locked up. I tried not to look as relieved as I was feeling. I was a little confused though, about how they expected me to identify someone I had already told them I hadn't seen.

"I understand you're being released today?"

"I hope so."

"Well, as soon as you get settled at home, we'll be in touch and have you come down to the jail and make the identification."

"I told you before, I didn't see him. How am I supposed to tell if it's him if I never saw him?"

"We just need you to hear his voice, look at his build, make sure it matches up to what you saw and heard. We can't keep him locked up past Wednesday without your ID."

"So, what, if I say it ain't him he just goes free?" I hoped that was the case.

"No, he is still expected in court next Tuesday. His car was at the scene, so he's gonna have to explain that to the judge. He was already on probation, so the courts may well throw the book at him on this one if they get the chance."

Just then the door opened and Two-Bit came in, followed by Darry, whose expression turned to concern as he took in the cop sitting by my bed.

The officer stood up as the two came in and offered his hand to Darry.

"Hello again, Mr. Curtis," he said.

"Officer Knowlton." Darry nodded toward him. Of course he would remember his name. He's always had a mind like a steel trap.

"I was just letting your brother know that we'll be needing him to come down to the jail and ID our suspect in his shooting, as soon as possible. You're taking him home today?"

"That's right." Darry was in full guardian mode. I noticed how he skillfully positioned himself between me and the cop.

"Well, we have him locked up until Wednesday, on unrelated charges. We'll give you a call tomorrow to set up a time for him to come down and make the identification."

"That will be fine… as long as he's up to it." Leave it to Darry to let a cop know that he had the right of refusal for whatever they were suggesting. Even the cops, however, rarely messed with Darry's authority. He treated them with respect, and they generally did the same.

"Right. Of course. As long as he's up to it." The cop did, however, shoot me a glance behind Darry's back that told me that if I knew what was best for me, I would be up for it.

"We'll be in touch," the cop said to Darry, eyeing Two-Bit on his way out. Two-Bit smiled innocently. I had to fight back a giggle.

"You too, officer," Darry said, looking as intimidating as I have ever seen him.

"It's fine, Darry," I said, as soon as the cop was gone. "I'll be fine."

"You just got shot, Soda. The cops need to back off… give you some time."

"And what, let the guy go, Darry?" I figured it was a good idea to let Darry think I was out to jail the jerk, despite the fact that I had every intention of letting him go, scot-free.

"We'll see. I ain't lettin' you do anything you're not ready for."

"I feel better today, Darry. Really. So I'm goin' home?"

"The doctor's gonna be in to see about you. If everything looks okay, Two-Bit's taking you home. I hafta go in to work. Two-Bit's takin' the day off to stay with you."

"Pony went to school?"

"Yeah. He didn't want to, but he did. He's already missed too many days this year. You're okay, so he went." I could only imagine the battle that had occurred at the house that morning.

"I don't need a babysitter, Darry,"

"Oh, it's my pleasure," Two-Bit said. Any excuse for a day off from school was good enough for him.

The door opened again and a doctor came in. He introduced himself to Darry and I hardly listened, thinking about how eager I was to get to talk to McQuade and put my mind at ease, and this whole mess behind me.

The doctor lifted my shoulder bandage and looked at my bullet wound, making noises that could have meant either that he was satisfied or he wasn't. He asked me a few questions about how I was feeling, and then just stood there, silently writing things on my chart. It was like taking a driving test, where at the end you pull into the parking space and the instructor says nothing, just sits there filling out paperwork while you are about to explode, wondering whether or not you passed.

"So…" he started. It took all of my patience not to yell at him… "So what?" Darry looked just as irritated. Behind him, Two-Bit was quietly opening every cabinet in the room and checking out the merchandise.

"Everything looks good." Darry and I breathed a mutual sigh of relief.

He turned to Darry.

"If there is any swelling, unusual discharge from the wound, or if he spikes a fever, I want him back in here, immediately."

"Yes, sir," Darry said.

"The nurse will be in to show you how to change his dressing. His discharge papers should be ready by then."

"Thank you, Doctor," Darry said, finally coming over and sitting down in the seat the cop had been sitting in. He looked over at me and I could see him evaluating me like no doctor ever could. Darry knew, just by looking at me, what the score was.

"How you really feeling?" he asked, and I knew lying was useless.

"Okay, I guess," I said, and he accepted it.

"You think you're ready?" he asked. "To come home?"

"Yeah, Darry… yeah." I hadn't realized how much I wanted to go home until that moment.

Just then, a nurse came in and gently pulled up my bandage again, telling Darry what to do when he changed it, and what to look for that would mean it was getting infected. He listened carefully to what she said, and thanked her when she left.

"So… looks like I'm your nurse from now on," he said. "You okay with that?"

"Yeah," I smiled. "I'm okay with that." There was nobody on Earth I trusted more than him to make sure I was okay.

"So you ready to get out of here?"

"Nothin' I want more," I answered. "Sign me up." As if on cue, a nurse came in with my discharge papers and Darry officially signed me out of the hospital. He pushed me in the wheelchair to where Two-Bit had pulled up with his car. Two-Bit jumped out of the driver's side and ran around to the passenger side, opening the door and helping Darry get me in. It might have been my shoulder that got shot, but man, my whole body was weak and achy.

He handed Two-Bit a bag with the pills they had sent home with me.

"One every three hours, Two-Bit, that's it. I mean it. No more. Got it?" Darry was forever paranoid about drugs.

"I got it," Two-Bit said, taking the bag.

"I'll see you tonight," Darry said, squeezing my hand, and giving me a sorry-I-have-to-work look.

"I'll be fine, Darry. Seeya tonight." He closed the door and headed off to the truck as Two-Bit pulled out of the parking lot, headed for our house.

I was not altogether surprised to find Ponyboy waiting for us at home. He was right there sitting on the porch, smoking a cigarette, as though it was nothing out of the ordinary for him to be home at ten in the morning on a school day.

"Darry's gonna have your head," I warned, as Two-Bit helped me out of the car.

He shrugged as he came to help me up, throwing his cigarette over the porch railing and taking my full weight from my good side as he guided me up the steps and into the bedroom, setting me down on the bed.

I was glad to get settled down – all the moving around had made me awful sore. It was no longer just the shoulder and arm, either – now the pain stretched clear across my chest and back. The bruising from the surgery practically covered my whole front… I hadn't had a chance to look in a mirror and see what my back looked like, but if how it felt was any indication of how it looked, I was sure it didn't look good. I closed my eyes and tried to rest, but had trouble finding a comfortable position.

I adjusted the pillow under my back and groaned, trying to roll over a bit.

"You okay, Soda?" I thought Pony had left, but I guess I was wrong, because I opened my eyes to find him staring at me from his desk chair, looking concerned.

"Yeah… I'm alright. Just… hurts. Can you tell Two-Bit to bring me one o' them pain pills?"

"Yeah, sure." He backed out of the room, eyeing me worriedly. I didn't take for granted the effect that me getting shot was having on the poor kid. Jesus, after losing our folks, just the thought of losing one of the three of us was enough to send shivers down my spine. More than anything, I was lying for McQuade to keep my family safe and out of the way of the Kings' violence. The last thing I needed was revenge getting served against my brothers for me having ratted out a King. I was never gonna let that happen.

Damn. Of all the gas stations in the city, the loser had to pick mine. And now I was caught up in a mess of his making.

Pony came back in with the pill and within minutes of taking it, the pain faded into numbness, taking me with it. I felt Pony lying down on the bed next to me as I started to slip away.

……………………….

"What the hell are you doing here, Ponyboy?" I awoke with a start to Darry yelling and Pony sitting up in the bed. I guess both of us had been sleeping. I glanced at the clock. Twelve-thirty. Involuntarily I grunted at the pain of tensing my busted shoulder at the sound of Darry's voice.

"Sorry, Soda," Darry said, sitting down next to me and putting his hand on my forehead, but staring at Ponyboy.

"Jesus, Pony, I told you, you can't miss any more days! I thought we agreed about this!"

"Darry, he got shot two days ago. I wasn't about to let you leave him here alone."

"He ain't alone, Pony. Two-Bit's here."

"Yeah, and he's real attentive, too, out there drinking his beer." Pony whispered. He seemed pretty upset. I guess Darry and I were so used to looking out for Pony that we had missed the fact that he was just as concerned with the two of us.

"Look, Darry, he'll go back tomorrow, okay? You know if you could have you woulda stayed home today, too. What are you doing home so early anyway?"

Darry looked sheepish.

"I was worryin' so much about you the boss sent me home at lunch. But he's payin' me for a full day." Darry was a good worker, and his boss must have known that he would more than make up for any time missed. He knew all about our home situation and that we needed the money. We were lucky… another guy might have just let Darry go – his "family emergencies" seemed to happen more often than one would expect – but this boss was a real nice guy.

"So I guess we're all here," I said. Darry lay back on the bed and the three of us all stared up at the ceiling, silent, but all of us thanking God, I'm pretty sure, that we were still three.

And I was looking to keep it that way, lies be damned.