Author's Note: Sorry this chapter is a little late. But it's a bit of a longer chapter, so hopefully that makes up for it. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed! I really appreciate it and it gives me great motivation. Please don't forget to keep on reviewing and letting me know what you think!

Also, I don't know about other countries, but to those in America: Happy Veterans Day! Today we appreciate any and all veterans of the military. I do not write this particular storyline lightly, and everything that I have learned from my research on this subject makes me even more grateful to those who serve their countries, whichever county that may be.


Chapter Seven

Soda woke very suddenly in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. He had woken so abruptly that parts of his nightmare bled over into reality. He had to blink several times to clear away the dark cell and be able to see his bedroom instead.

Slowly he sat up in his bed. The bed still felt strange to him. His chest was heaving, gasping air into his lungs which were burning as if he had been holding his breath. He carefully put the back of his hand up to his forehead, trying to gauge if he had a fever or not. His fever had gone up and down several times over the course of the past couple days. He realized after a moment that his hand was shaking badly. He dropped his hand back down and stared at it. His hands were scarred and callused, worn looking. Carefully he rolled his fingers up into fists.

He lifted his head and looked around the room. He had the urge to run, the adenine from his nightmare still present in his system. After a moment he realized that he could actually leave the room. Having the freedom to simple get up and walk out of a room was still taking some getting used to.

Carefully he slid off the bed and made his way to the door. As usual it was left open a crack and he was simply able to nudge it open. The house was silent as he moved through the dark space. The hallway felt too small and too dark to him, causing his heart to jump uncomfortably. He hurried along it, stumbling slightly and putting one hand on the wall for balance. He felt marginally better as he turned into the open living room, but he nerves still felt on edge. He continued through the living room and quietly pushed open the front door. He was met by a cool breeze of early March air. He still felt amazed by the feeling of cool, fresh air against his skin.

Soda took a deep breath as he walked forward in his bare feet, the wind whipping through his short sleeved t-shirt. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could almost hear Darry lightly scolding him for being outside in the cold without a coat, but he just couldn't bring himself to feel too concerned about that right now. He liked the feel of the cold, the shiver it sent through his body. It made him feel alive in a way that he hadn't felt for the past three and a half years.

He leaned up against the railing, resting his elbows on top of it as he ran both his hands over his face. He had had nightmares most nights since he had left captivity. He could still hear himself screaming his voice raw, he could still vividly remember the paralyzing fear of not knowing if he was going to survive one day to the next, he could still remember the mind numbing pain that he had felt when the guards had tortured him. He didn't want to think about it, but somehow the thoughts kept on appearing in his mind uninvited. He could only hope that as time went on the memories would start to fade. More than anything he wanted to just forget.

Suddenly the door behind him scraped open. Soda instantly tensed every muscle in his body as he squeezed his eyes closed, trying very hard not to think about what that noise used to mean.

"Soda?"

Soda took in a steading breath before he opened his eyes and turned his head, looking over at Ponyboy.

"Hey, Pony," Soda said, hearing how his voice shook ever so slightly. "What're you doin' up?"

Pony just shrugged. "You okay?"

Soda sighed as he looked away, gazing out across the yard at nothing in particular. He had been asked that a lot since he had been released. What did that mean though? How was "okay" supposed to feel? When prisoners would ask each other if they were okay there was the connotation that it simply meant that they were asking if you were still alive.

"Yeah, I mean… I guess," he finally said vaguely. He let out a light cough.

"You know, you really shouldn't be out here without a coat or somethin'," Pony pointed out slowly. "You'll get sick."

"Yeah, I know," Soda said. His voice was strained. "I just… please I just need a few more minutes." He realized his tone sounded pleading, like he had been afraid that Ponyboy would grab him and forcibly drag him back inside. Which was a strange thought. This was his little brother after all.

Pony looked just as surprised by his tone. "Okay, okay," he said, holding up his hands in a gesture like he was trying to soothe a panicking animal. "It was just a suggestion." Soda could hear a flat note in his voice.

Soda almost groaned out loud. He hadn't meant to make Pony feel bad. "Sorry," he murmured, hanging his head.

"It's okay," Pony said gently. He took a step closer, looking unsure. "We just wanna help you, Soda."

"I know that," Soda said quietly. Maybe there is no help for me. Maybe I'll never be like I was before. He didn't voice his fear though.

"Do you mind if I stay out here with you?" Pony asked slowly, guarded. He sounded like he was bracing himself to be sent away. But Soda didn't want that.

"Yeah," Soda said, though he didn't look over at him. He didn't want to see the hurt he knew was on his younger brother's face as he awaited an answer. "Please stay."

"Okay," Pony replied, a hint of a smile in his voice. Was he smiling? Soda couldn't bring himself to look and see. He was too afraid that he would still be able to see the disappointment on his little brother's face. He hated coming back home after all this time and being a disappointment to his brothers. He had come home for them… hadn't he? "Soda?" Soda jumped slightly, realizing that Pony had been talking to him while he had been on his internal ramblings.

"Huh?" Soda muttered.

"Couldn't you sleep?" Pony asked. Soda was now aware that Pony was next to him, leaning up against the railing while still leaving him some space. He was grateful for the space, even though he didn't want to be grateful for it.

"Yeah, I slept some," Soda said. It was the truth anyway.

"Oh," was all Pony said.

They lapsed into silence. Soda never knew what he was supposed to say when this happened, which had been happening quite a bit over the last couple days since he had been home. Everything felt so strange and foreign to him. This was his home but he felt so out of place all the time. He had been gone for four years, and that was four years that he would never get back.

"The sun's comin' up," Pony said quietly.

Soda looked over at Pony quickly, surprised by the sudden comment after so much silence. For once Pony wasn't looking at him though. He was gazing listlessly out across the yard and at the horizon in the distance. There was a light smile on his face. Soda was momentarily memorized by the look of wonder in his little brother's eyes. He followed his gaze, looking out to where the sky was just beginning to lighten just above the horizon. At first he didn't see anything special in the sight, only the sky beginning to lighten. But as he continued to watch he began to see the colors. The pinks and purples that gave way to oranges and golds. As the sun continued the rise the bleak grays and blacks of the night sky were pushed to the west by clean, clear blue.

"Wow," Soda said quietly.

"Yeah," Pony agreed. Soda gave a small start. Honestly he had forgotten he was there.

Even before Vietnam Soda couldn't remember ever just standing still and appreciating a sunrise. He had been much more of a night owl in those days. He had a hard enough time getting up for work in the mornings and ran late most days. Ironically he was up early everyday now but he had nowhere to go. He also realized how much of the last few years had been dominated by shades of grey punctuated only by the harsh red of human blood on pale skin. It made him appreciate the colors even more.

"Soda? Did you hear me?"

Soda shook his head as if he could simply shake the memories away. "What?"

"Darry will be up soon," Pony repeated. "I was gonna go inside and start on breakfast. Do you... wanna come?" He spoke carefully, obviously concerned of what kind of reaction he was going to get.

"Yeah, okay," Soda agreed, mostly just in an attempt to make Pony happy. Though he did have to admit it was pretty chilly out.

Soda turned and followed Pony back into the house. Back in the kitchen Pony gave Soda little tasks to help with breakfast. He had tried making eggs the first morning back and had ended up getting distracted and then burning the eggs. Since then he had settled for the smaller task of setting the table, being extra careful not to drop anything or knock anything over. Three and a half years of inactivity had made him very clumsy.

"Mornin'," Darry mumbled as he walked into the kitchen just as they were finished setting up breakfast. He glanced around curiously at the two of them. "You're both up early. You sleep okay?" Even though he made it sound like the question was for both of them, he looked at Soda when he said.

"Yeah, fine," Soda mumbled, sitting down at the table. A minute later Darry joined him. Soda could feel him looking at him, but he just stared down at the table. Eventually Pony brought over breakfast and Soda was aware of conversation occurring over top of him. Soda felt a fog settling over him and he simply allowed it. It was better than thinking. Thinking only caused more pain these days.

"Soda?"

Soda jerked out of his fog, looking around. Both his brothers were looking at him and he couldn't figure out which one had spoken to him. He looked down at his plate, realizing he had eaten half his breakfast. Time had kept passing while he was in his fog. He looked back up and saw that both of his brothers had already cleared their plates.

"I've got a big test in my first class today," Pony told him. "So I'm gonna head in early to get a little more studying in."

"Oh. Okay," Soda said.

"Good luck today," Darry told him as Pony stood up. "Drive safe, kiddo." Soda noticed how Darry had used so many more words than he did and sounded so much more genuine. Soda spoke mostly in monosyllables these days. He was aware of it but he didn't know what else to say.

"Thanks, I'll see you guys tonight." And with that he had disappeared out of the kitchen. A minute later Soda could hear his car start up and then pull out of the driveway.

Darry stood up and began collecting the dishes.

"Darry, I can do that," Soda said as he stood up.

"You sure, little buddy?" Darry asked slowly.

"Yeah, I ain't helpless," Soda mumbled, somewhat annoyed. He didn't need to be treated like a child. "You go get ready for work. I'll clean up."

"Okay," Darry said with a light smile. "Thanks."

"Sure."

Soda enjoyed having a task to keep him busy. He concentrated on each plate and scrubbing it clean. By the time he finished each dish, glass and utensil was spotless. He felt some form of accomplishment because of this. At least there was something he could still do.

"Hey, I'm heading out." Soda turned to see Darry standing in the doorway, fully dressed with his tool belt slung over his shoulder. He must have taken longer to do the dishes than he had thought. "Two-Bit should be by in a little bit."

"Yeah, okay," Soda said. As much as he didn't want a babysitter, he didn't want to be left alone even more so he didn't dare complain. Even if he didn't talk much, he still enjoyed the company of his friends.

"You take it easy. I'll see you tonight." And with that he turned and he too was gone.

Soda took a deep breath. There wasn't much to occupy himself with when everyone was gone. He remembered what Steve had said about having a routine to help adjust back to civilian life, but without work it was hard to find a routine to successfully fill his days. Thankfully the past few days Two-Bit had been able to help with that. Soda just had to find something to occupy himself with until Two-Bit managed to drag himself out of bed after working a night shift. He moved into the living room, thinking maybe he'd try turning on the television for a bit. Perhaps he could find something lighthearted to watch like cartoons. But before he sat down he heard Darry's truck coughing in the driveway. He stood and listened as Darry tried to start it several times. Finally out of curiosity he moved to the front door, pushing open the screen and stepping back out onto the porch.

As he stepped outside he peered over to see Darry climbing down out of the truck, looking distressed. He walked around to the front of the truck and popped the hood, looking down at the engine quizzically.

"What's wrong with it?" Soda asked, looking over from where he stood on the porch.

Darry looked over at him in surprise, obviously not having heard him come out of the house. He shook his head, looking back down at the engine. "I dunno." Darry never had been very good with the mechanics of vehicles. He looked back up at Soda. "Do you wanna... take a look? See if you can tell what's wrong with it?" He spoke carefully and unsurely. Soda realize though not for the first time that since getting back no one had seemed comfortable asking anything of him.

"Uh... Yeah. Sure." He started forward but stopped when Darry put up his hand and spoke again.

"Please go put on a jacket first," he implored gently. "You're gonna catch your death out here, Soda."

"Oh. Right." He turned back toward the house and glanced down. He supposed he could use some shoes as well.

After he had grabbed a jacket and pulled on his shoes he headed back out of the house. He descended the steps carefully and then made his way over to the truck. He stood next to Darry, looking down at the engine. It was familiar. He had lost track of how many times he had fixed this truck. He was probably around twelve when his dad had first started showing him how to fix it. Even so he shifted a bit uncomfortably and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What do you think?" Darry asked after a few minutes of silence.

Soda shifted again. He cleared his throat, went to speak only to find his voice appeared to be stuck in his throat. He cleared his throat again before he was able to speak. "It could be the spark plugs. Or the carburetor. Steve would probably have a better idea." Suddenly he really didn't want to even touch the engine.

"What about the battery? I've been having problems with that before."

Soda immediately stiffened, feeling a horrible knot tie itself in the middle of his chest. "Could be." His voice was tight but Darry was so intent on the task he didn't appear to notice.

Darry started reaching forward into the engine. "Maybe if we-"

"No!"

As the solider came at him a third time he made a panicked noise as he pushed back with his feet, toppling the chair over so that it crashed to the floor. It was a futile attempt at escape since he was still tied to the chair. His hands were tied to the bars on the back of the chair and when he fell his left hand ended up smashed between the bar and the concrete floor. The pain was so intense he wondered vaguely if it had broken. Two soldiers were immediately on him, hauling the chair back upright with him still tied to it despite his weak protests.

"No!" Soda screamed as the guard with the electrical cords came at him again, raw fear in his voice. He was desperate. I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, not like this, he kept repeating to himself. He knew that Daniels' cell wasn't far away and he had been able to save him once before. He knew his begging wouldn't sway his torturers, but perhaps he could somehow get Daniels' attention. Maybe he could help him again before they killed him. "Please!"

There was panic in Soda's voice as he stumbled backward. Darry was saying his name but he could hardly hear him over the sound of his own echoed screams in his head. He could almost smell his own burnt flesh again. His stomach turned violently as his heart pounded painfully in his chest.

Next thing he knew he was sitting on the ground, with his knees up protectively and his back up against concrete. His hands were thrown up over his head and he was gasping for breath.

"Sodapop? Look at me. Please it's okay. It's Darry. Just look at me."

Cautiously Soda looked up, half afraid of what he'd find. But all he saw was Darry crouched in front on him, looking worried and a little frightened. He realized that he was sitting in the grass, his back up against the concrete of the porch. The cold air brushed up against his face, anchoring him in the present.

"That's it, Soda," Darry said slowly, somehow sensing that he had come back to the present. "It's okay. See?" He held out his hands as if to show that they were empty. "No one's gonna hurt you now, little buddy." Soda took a deep breath and slowly lowered his hands, though he noticed his body was shaking. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Soda opened his mouth and then closed it again. He could remember too vividly being tied to the chair, the blinding pain of being electrocuted by the car battery, how even hours later when he was alone in his cell his muscles were still contracting abnormally.

Slowly he shook his head as he dropped his gaze back down to stare at the ground. "I... I can't." His voice was barely more than a whisper.

With a furtive glance up at his brother Soda was able to see the disappointment in his face that he tried to hide. He felt his heart sinking in his chest. Then he leaned over to one side and was sick. He heaved several times, emptying his stomach of all its contents.

"Oh, Soda," he heard Darry say quietly.

Soda wanted to cry. He wanted to curl up on himself right there on the ground and just start bawling. But he didn't. More than that… he suddenly realized that he couldn't. It was like he didn't remember how to just let his feelings out anymore. There was a place in his heart where he knew sadness should be, but there was a strange numbness instead.

Soda was only vaguely aware of Darry helping him to his feet and guiding him back into the house. He felt like he was in a daze. Suddenly he was sitting in the recliner and Darry was pushing a glass of water into his hand, saying that he looked as pale as a sheet and he should drink something. Mechanically, Soda followed the orders he was given because that's what his instincts told him to do, sipping on the cool water. Every time he had been given water while he was in captivity it had been lukewarm.

Finally the fog was starting to clear in his head. He heard Darry in the other room talking on the phone. He wasn't sure who he was talking to. He had probably called Two-Bit or Steve about his truck or a ride to work. Soda stared down at his hands which were still cupped around the glass and concentrated on taking deep breaths. His heart was still beating hard in his chest, almost painfully even though his other senses seemed to have calmed down. He closed his eyes and hoped for some sense of calm.

For three and a half years all Soda ever wanted was to be able to go home. But now that he was here he couldn't help but wonder if he was really supposed to come back. If he really still belonged in this place. If he could ever be who he was before, or if the years of physical and mental torture had killed something inside of him that he would never get back.