Hiya! Sorry about this chapter being a little later than usual, but it is most definetly longer! My longest chapter ever, actually, which is why it took so long for me to write. The next one will be up soon, though, I promise!
Be warned, however; this story is rated M for a reason. In this chapter there is attempted suicide! (Also a bit of mentioned slash.) So if you don't like, DON'T READ! Otherwise, enjoy. Happy reading!
When Darry woke up, it was to the sound of bickering. He wasn't shocked; now it had been four days since Ponyboy and Johnny had left, and the more time pressed onwards, the more pressure it divided onto the gang's backs. It was rare that a single hour went by without a squabble breaking out, over the stupidest shit. Nobody could help it, however; the absence of the two teens was taking a large, worrying toll.
Darrel almost didn't want to get out of bed, but his mind screamed at him until he grudgingly obeyed. He tossed his plain grey sheets off his body, rubbed his eyes, and stood up. Darry reached for the first shirt that he could find (a thin cotton white t-shirt) and pulled it over his head. Using one hand to try and flatten his insanely cowlicky hair, he paused for a moment to listen. The argument he could hear from inside his room was escalating. From the their tones, it was Dallas and Two-Bit.
Twisting the doorknob and pushing open his door, the oldest Curtis's eyebrows unconsiously drew together in a puzzled expression. He wasn't surprised that Dally would pick a fight, but Two-Bit? That was a shock. What could possibly get Matthews upset, only drinking four beers instead of five?
(Darrel should not have been as surprised as he was; in the past four days, nobody had acted like themselves. It was kind of creepy to see a silent Steve Randle or a quiet Two-Bit Matthews.)
Darry walked in (noting that Sodapop and Steve were both absent) right when the action started.
"Change it back!" Two-Bit snapped, glaring at Dallas. The hood was twirling the remote to the television in his hand, always keeping it out of Two-Bit's reach. Two-Bit frowned deeply, the strangness of that particular look on his face rivaling watching Sodapop scowl. He made another quick grab for it, but Dally was quicker.
"I don't wanna watch another episode of some damned mouse dancing across the screen! I'm fucking bored and I wanna see something ELSE!" Dally countered. Two-Bit was fuming and seemed like he was going to lunge, but Darry jumped inbetween the fighting boys and shook his head.
"Dallas, give me the remote." Grumpily, Dally handed Darrel the little dark box. He took it in an almost scolding manner. "Two-Bit, you can survive one hour without TV. Wait until Sodapop and Steve wake up, and help them clean the house and make breakfast. Dally and I are going out."
Dallas coolly raised an eyebrow, like, We are? But nonetheless didn't argue when Darry sent him a pointed look. Gesturing for Dally to follow him and ignoring Two-Bit's horrified sputters, Darry made his way into the kitchen to grab something small to eat. A lot of people didn't know it, but Darrel actually didn't need to eat that much to get through a day. His body made smart use of little fuel, and munching down on a single apple for breakfast could get him through work until he came home to make the food for the evening. Darry always made a big dinner, despite all of this; partially because more often than not the gang was present, and partially because Darry liked food and he liked to eat, as scary as that prospect was. More specifically, he loved desserts and sweets: once he ate half of a chocolate pound cake in a sitting. His mother had yelled her head off in worry, fearing that he would vomit it all back up, but he surprised her when no such thing happened. From that point forth, it was known that Darrel Shaynne Curtis had an iron stomach.
"Want anything?"
Dallas shook his head. "I'm good."
The person Darry didn't have to worry about as much was Dally, coddling and comfort-wise, but he was the one Darrel had to hide the most from trouble. Sure, Sodapop and Two-Bit got thrown in the slammer by the fuzz every now and then, but they were only being overly-silly. Dallas got into real deep shit; appearing out of thin air in the middle of the night, doing...whatever he did, and then vanishing before the sunlight touched the sidewalk.
If Dallas was in a good mood, Darry might call him Batman. If Dally was in a bad mood, Darrel would call him the grim reaper.
Darry reached out a hand, his mind set on eating the first thing he touched. When he pulled it back, he was face-to-shell with an egg. He blinked at it, wondering how he could consume it properly, before he shrugged, got a cup from the sink, cracked the egg, and drank it raw. He wanted to be quick today.
Dally had taken out a smoke and was puffing on it, smiling now and then when he heard Two-Bit cursing his rotten luck in the next room. He grimaced at Darrel.
"Damn, Superman, you couldn't even cook it first?"
Darry considered this, and shook his head. "No. I think we should leave and get what we need as soon as possible."
Dally shrugged, but behind his eyes (carefully concealed) was a hint of wonder and curiosity that made itself known among all of the dark and dankness that was Dallas Winston.
Darrel grabbed the keys to his truck and opened the door. "C'mon. Let's go."
There was silence between the two Greasers for a moment, and it would have been a peaceful one had Darry not had the full intention of breaking it.
And, because Darry always seemed to be rough without meaning to be, he came at the silence with a sledgehammer rather than a cautious tap of a finger.
"Alright, Dally, what's goin' on?" Darry asked as they approached railroad tracks. There was a train coming, a long one, so Dallas would have no choice but to stay in the car and wait it out no matter what Darrel said. Nevertheless, Darry inwardly sighed; now they would have to wait longer to get what they needed.
Dally remained cool and neutral, but Darry could feel his emotional shield turning a icey blue, daring someone to step on it so it would break and they would fall through.
"What do you mean?"
"Cut the shit, Winston." Darry swore in a dead voice, looking at Dally. The hood was stunned that Darry had cursed, and blinked once before his eyes narrowed. Darry only swore when he was angry, emotionless (which made it scary as hell), or vengeful. He smelled a fight. "You know what the fuck I'm talking about. Why the hell are you picking fights with every damn member of the gang? You're going after Two-Bit constantly, you argue with Steve more than usual, and you're so...angry, Dally, more angry than you should be." Darry suddenly slammed a hand against the steering wheel. His tone changed and became sharper. "Do you think that you're the only one who's angry? The only one who's worried? Because I'm worried sick, Dal. And you constantly hounding on everybody isn't helping at all!"
"Who the hell are you to tell me what to do, Darry?" Dallas asked, his dark tone almost matching Darrel's. "Who says I can't fight who I want to? You? What are you gonna do, hit me like you did Ponyboy?"
Darry bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. That hit a nerve. Anger built up inside of the eldest Curtis like fire feeding off of dry wood. His veins burned red-hot and his temple throbbed with suppressed rage.
But he felt the strange urge to backtrack, look behind him, reconsider. Maybe...maybe Dally...had a point. And Darry just didn't want to fight. Didn't want to stand up or get up. Darrel actually wished to accept defeat.
"I didn't mean to." Darry relented quietly, loosening his previously tight grip on the steering wheel. He lifted a hand to the back of his head and tugged at the dark locks residing there. He had always liked his hair cut short; his cowlicks wouldn't look right in a longer style like everyone else's. "It just...happened. I'm sorry that it did. I won't ever forgive myself. I'm the reason he ran away."
Dally stared, again surprised with Darry. "Everyone gets angry sometimes."
"Not me, Dal. I'm not allowed to get angry."
Silence once more.
"I..." Dally coughed, and cleared his throat almost awkwardly. "I'm...sorry...that I've been pickin' fights."
"S'ok. Ponyboy and Johnny bein' gone is hard on everybody."
Dallas shifted in his seat, and Darry sent him questioning eyebrows. The hood had a well-hidden nervous look on his face and a faint rosey hue splashed across his high cheekbones.
"Are you ok?"
Dally nodded. Darry could have called him meek if he so desired and would have been correct. Why would he be sheepish?
Darry peered at Dally. Something had changed. Darry blinked. Where was Dally's shield? For some reason, Darry couldn't picture it anymore. It had been up only a moment beforehand...oh, wait, there it was, it was up now...but it wasn't ice blue...wait, was it...no. It couldn't be.
But it was.
Suddenly, Darry sat bolt upright in his chair with a loud gasp, effectively giving Dallas a heart attack. The teen gasped right back at him, clutching his chest and breathing in large amounts of air that he had lost. Darry gaped at his friend in disbelief. He could be wrong, but Darry was seldom wrong about these sorts of things. After all, he could see Dally's shield. The shield's never lied.
"You like Johnny." Darrel accused childishly, pointing a shaking hand at Dallas. The hood froze for a second, before he relaxed and sank back into the tattered seat. He was trying to put on a mask of coolness, but he had forgotten that Darry owned the shop and could see right through whatever fancy show he put on with stolen costumes.
"Sure. The kid's alright."
"No." Darry shook his head. He started bouncing up and down like freaking Ponyboy did when he was excited. "You like like him!" Dallas eyes widened only a fraction, but that was enough for Darrel. "Oh my lord, YOU LIKE LIKE JOHNNY CADE!" He screamed, not able to help himself and feeling the need to broadcast this realization.
"WOULD YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP, DARREL!?" Dally screeched right back, the faint pink tinge now heavily showing through his pale cheeks. He wanted to sound smarter, but his scrambled mind had jumbled up his internal files and therefore couldn't find anything else to say. Dally punched at Darry's arm, but Darrel took the hit without feeling it.
Darry's mind raced at a rate that could have rivaled Einstein's. So Dally liked Johnny? But what did that mean? And wait hold up hang on did Johnny like Dally back? Did Dally LOVE Johnny? No, no, he couldn't, never ever in forever, nope, Dallas Winston didn't love. Did he could he would he for Johnny? And pardon, please pause, but did all of that mean-
"Are you gay?" Darry blurted.
Dallas seemed slightly taken aback at the abrupt question, slamming the brakes on the speedy rollarcoaster that was Darrel Curtis's train of thought.
"I-you-he-no, I just-dammit, it's not like that-hell-" Dally uncharacteristically sputtered, trying to cover up his mistake and stop Darry from making any more assumptions, as right or wrong as they were. "I don't know, alright? I don't know. And I don't like the kid like that!"
Darry narrowed his eyes. The argument was beginning to heat up.
"Liar."
"Did you just call me a fucking liar?"
"You bet your pansy ass I did! How long have you liked him?"
"First off, that's none of your shit-"
"Hell yes it is, when you're being so obvious about it! Soon Two-Bit's gonna notice and ask what the hell is going on. And what are you gonna tell him?"
"That it's none of his shit, like, oh wait, like it's none of yours!"
"Dally-"
"Shut the fuck UP about it-"
"You're just upset that I guessed right!"
"You didn't guess anything!"
"Oh, stop bluffing and own up to it like a man-"
"I ain't gonna say it! Darrel, I don't like him-"
"Yes you do-"
"Stop acting like fucking PONYBOY! Glory, but he pries just as much as you do!"
"It's not prying if it's obvious." Darry repeated, rolling his eyes at the juvenile delinquent sitting in the seat next to him, and allowing them to stray for a minute. His electric-blue orbs caught something moving on the tracks.
"Has the train passed by us yet?" Darry asked suddenly.
Dally peered in the direction Darry was looking in, still irritated with the eldest Curtis. "No, it's one of those trains that're slow as hell." He heard a horn sound. "Never mind, here it comes. Thank fuck."
Dallas was right; the train was slow, but it was going fast enough. That was the problem.
"Dally."
"What?"
"There's a girl running towards the train."
"What?"
And, if Darry could calculate the math correctly in his head, she was going to get run over by it in the next twenty seconds. She was wearing a black dress and no shoes, with bright blonde hair that fell to her waist in a braid. She carried something in her arms, a bundle that she had also wrapped in black.
"Dally, she's got a baby!" Darry realized with horror. "She's running at the train with...oh, gosh..." Darry and Dallas watched as she drew closer and closer.
Darrel shook his head. "I ain't watching this. I'll be right back." Darry unlocked the doors of his truck and hopped out. The second his feet touched the ground Darry started sprinting. He could hear Dally jumping out of the truck as well, running and calling after him, but there were other things to worry about at the current moment than appeasing Dallas Winston.
Feet pounding, back hurting, and sides aching, Darry was starting to really wish that he could run like Ponyboy. The young Greaser was the fastest out of the gang: a single mile took him about five minutes. The distance between Darrel and this girl seemed a lot longer than a mile, but somewhere in the back of his mind Darry assured himself that it was shorter than that.
Darry ran and ran and ran and ran, faster than he had ever tried to run before. He knew he would pay for it when he got home; his legs would kill him for days. But Darrel also knew that if he didn't make it in time, the girl currently running to her death was going to pay for it with not only her life, but the innocent life of another.
He was so close, only a few more feet now. Darry could hear the baby crying, most likely as a result of the loud noises surrounding it; the rush of the train on metal tracks, the gasping of the woman carrying it, and the horn of said train blaring such a piercing note that Darrel almost stopped to clutch and claw at his ears. But he was only a few steps away now, gaining on them. If he could tackle her out of the way, a smooth fluid move like they taught in football, then maybe, just maybe, Darry could get away with saving them.
(It might not strike a person immediently, but Darry was actually quite young and was capable of many things-his mind was the thing that was older and more serious. Yet, Darry exceeded in many physical challenges; though Ponyboy could run the fastest, Darry sprinted rather swiftly, as he was doing now. He could lift many tens of pounds over his head easily, because of what his roofing job required, and he could do handstands and flips and somersaults with no problem. His muscles stood to prove it. Yes, Darrel Curtis was young, and though his back might hurt him sometimes, he did a few physical things correctly. That was the reason why college's wanted him so badly; a smart, fit kid who could play a mean game of football.)
So, with the train speeding, lives at stake (including his own), and a brother now gone, the crazy-ass maniac that was known as Darrel Shaynne Curtis jumped.
Darry made sure it was a high one, and one composed entirely of length, so he wouldn't miss his target. He flew through the air like the Superman he was, until he collided with the reason he was doing this crap in the first place.
Darrel tucked his arms around the woman and the bundle tightly so that he would take most of the impact of the fall as they rolled out of midair. The train rushed past them not a second later, almost leaving a laughing wind to blow Darry's hair out of his face. Darrel honestly didn't care at the moment; he was too busy tucking and holding and ouch, did the ground have to be that hard?
The woman in his arms squirmed and wriggled until he finally let go of her, and she stood up quickly to check on the baby. Darry breathed on the grass for a millisecond, enjoying the smell and the feel of it's soft earthy comfort, and hauled himself to his feet, shaking his head to get the lightheaded feeling out of it. He felt a sharp pain in his arm, and cast it a glance: he was going to have a large bruise on the area where he had broken the fall.
"Are you ok?" Darrel asked, grabbing his arm and rubbing it for half of a moment. He nearly chuckled in the irony that he had asked Dallas that same question not two minutes before, in completely different circumstances.
The woman, satisfied with her baby's heath (it had stopped crying, most likely because it was surprised), shot Darry an unexpected glare.
"Why the heck did you do that!?" She yelled at him, her wide hazel eyes flashing.
Darrel didn't understand, but that didn't mean he wasn't slightly annoyed. He had risked his life to save her and her baby's. "You were running at the train! You were going to die!" He protested, letting go of his arm so he could point at the front of the train, now speeding away. There were still a lot of cars to go, however, which bought Darry time to figure out what was going on.
"That was the point!" She returned loudly, clutching the baby to her chest. Darry assessed her; she seemed to be seventeen or eighteen, with small hands and knobby legs that were stick thin and very weak-looking. Her plain black dress, now tattered and dirty from rolling on the ground, made her look even frailer. She wore no makeup. "To die!"
"And you were going to take the baby with you?" Darry shot back, gesturing to the bundle in her arms.
"Yes! I wasn't going to leave him all alone in this cruel place!" Tears came to her eyes, but she fought them down.
Darry shook his head at her. If he was going to die, he would never drag Ponyboy or Sodapop down with him. They could survive without him, find a way out together. Ponyboy already thought Darry was out to ruin his life, so why should Darry matter to him? At all?
(Darrel almost began to cry himself, at the thought of not meaning anything to his youngest brother. Darry loved him so much, but he wasn't sure he was loved back. But that didn't matter, no it didn't. Emotions didn't matter. As long as Ponyboy and Sodapop were as happy as they could be, then Darry could be content. Not happy himself, but content knowing that his brother's were.)
"Darry! What the fuck was that?"
Two heads turned at the same time to see Dallas Winston jogging up to them, not as out of breath as he should have been. Years on the run from the fuzz probably helped with that. He slowed once he saw that they noticed him, and walked the rest of the way dragging a hand through his hair.
(Even if he didn't show it, he had worried for his friend and hoped that Darry wasn't sprinting to his death. Sodapop would kill Dally if he heard that the hood had allowed the oldest Curtis to do what he had done and failed. Or Ponyboy would when he came back with Johnny.)
"He saved me, and my child, if that's what you meant." The girl said bitterly. She glared at Dally too.
"Stop starin' at me, broad. I didn't do anything." Dally glared at her right back until she transferred her gaze to her feet. Yup, Dallas was sure intimidating, alright.
"Well, this idiot prevented me and my baby from dying, so I wouldn't be staring at you if he hadn't done anything." She defended, her eyes rising in challenge.
"So that's it then? No, 'Thank you sir,' or, 'You're ever so wonderful sir'?" Darry asked sarcastically. He actually wasn't seeking any credit (Darrel was more modest than he wanted to admit), but he wished for this girl to recognise that her baby wasn't dead.
The girl shook her head subbornly. She angered slightly. "Why couldn't you just let me die?"
"Because I've already let too many people die. And I'd hate to add you and your kid to the list." Darry said emotionlessly, with no emphasis on any word in the two sentances. "Why would you want to die?"
Darrel truely, deep down, knew why somebody would take their own life, but it was heavily shrouded by wonder. Darry was a deep thinker, and that made him wonder and want to explore. There was so much to do on earth, so many things that Darry hadn't gotten to do, and he'd really like to try them. And then there were all of the things that still needed to be done, and weren't yet. But even his wonders were deep down; on his surface, Darrel had to be hard and strict and full of constant worry. Dallas, on the other hand, could relate to this girl more than one would think. He understood the wild urge to end all the misery, freeze all the sadness and pain, embrace the hell that awaited you because honestly, that torture looked better than the horrid life sentance you were condemned to live. Unlike this girl, though, Dallas had found a light in the dark, and dared to switch it on. Sure, there was black corruptness tainting his insides, but at least now he had smething to live for.
The baby began to cry, and the girl rocked it soothingly. She looked up at the two Greasers, and for the first time Darry could see a strange terror behind her eyes. And now, because he could properly see her eyes, Darrel could picture her shield; thick and tough, like bark. It seemed as if it had originally been a light caramel color, but now it looked so burned that it was nearly black. One edge of it was withered and charred, like someone had set a fire to it, and there were harsh lines drawn on the outskirts, lining the eges and exposing some of a nearly white inner core. The only shield that Darry had seen more battered than hers was Dally's.
"My life...isn't worth living anymore. It's too dangerous. For my baby and for me. He'll come for us if we don't get out." She explained, her upset dmeanor gone and replaced with sorrow.
"Who is he?" Darry and Dallas asked at the same time.
"W-Well, h-he's supposed to be m-my husband." The girl stuttered nervously, tears gathering in her eyes and making them look even larger than they were. Dallas was strongly reminded of Johnny and his big brown puppy eyes. "B-But he just beats me. And then one day..." She blinked away the tears as best as she could and tried to say what else he had done, yet she could not say the word. She could only gesture at the baby. The Greasers got the message. "He was drunk. Angry at me, for some reason. And then it happened...and then I gave up. Is it so bad to give up?"
Darry shook his head again. "It is when you still have something to live for." He gestured towards the now silent baby.
The girl pursed her thin lips. "Bringing him into it is worse. He'll grow up beaten, abused, treated like trash. Maybe killed."
"What you were about to do was no better." Darrel pointed out. "Don't you understand? You have so many options besides death."
"Run away." Dally suggested out of no where. Darry silently agreed. Based on her siduation, that was her best option.
"Is it really that simple?" The girl asked desperately. "Please say it's that easy." She clutched her baby to her chest as she begged. Her eyes shined again.
"It is." Dally said, his voice rough as always. He nodded to the fields that could be seen in the distance. "You're like a needle in a haystack, broad. Go, and literally get lost."
She looked out at the tall grass, considering.
"Ok." She said finally. "I will." Making a move to walk away, Darry hoped for her wellbeing, but couldn't see her going very far. He let that fact be known as he halted her and told her to stay by the tracks until he and Dallas came back.
Darry raced back to his truck alongside the hood, started up the truck, and drove to the store. He bought the supplies that he and Dally had orginally come for, and pretended not to notice when Dally swiped a couple of things and hid them in his jacket. Darry also got a couple blankets and a large basket.
When they returned to that same spot, they saw that the girl was simply sitting and holding her baby close. They brought over the things they had gotten her, half bought and half stolen. She smiled and thanked them and stood up and took what they gave her gratefully. The trio chatted for a little while longer, before Darry checked his watch and claimed that he needed to go to work (he had taken the afternoon shift today so he could have his morning free).
"Thank you for everything you've done. You're too kind." The girl said.
Dally, always the tough guy, grumbled out a you're welcome, but Darry said his with a small smile.
The girl turned to leave, but Darry stopped her once more.
"What's your name?" Darry couldn't say why he wanted to know; he just did.
"Saren. And this is Levi." The girl answered, with a grin towards her baby boy. He gurgled back happily. "We gotta go now. See you two around!" She sent one last smile Darry and Dally's way, spun on her heel, took a deep breath, and walked away.
Darry watched her go. Saren's siduation made him appreciate what he had; a job, a house, two brothers, and the gang. He felt bad for her, and would have invited her to stay with them for a while, but Darry couldn't afford one more person plus a baby. He wished he could.
"C'mon, Darry, let's get out of here." Dally said, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter as he made his way to where Darry had parked his truck. Darrel followed him, and slung himself into his seat.
There was quiet. Now that Darry thought about it, there was a lot of quiet around the house and between people these days.
Darry pictured himself drinking the raw eggs that morning, in a rush and hurrying. He wondered; what if he had decided to cook the eggs? Or not eat anything? Then they would have missed the train.
And, Darrel concluded as he pulled up to the house to drop off Dally, two people wouldn't be alive.
