Author's Note: As always thanks to my reviewers! You guys make me happy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders.

Chapter Nine

An Impediment

Soda's night was plagued with nightmares of the night that he was injured in the middle of a jungle in a foreign country. He woke up several times in a panic with a ringing in his ears. His leg ached.

By the time the sun rose Soda felt tired and frustrated. He lay in bed longer than he would usually, wanting to avoid the rest of the world as long as possible. He heard Pony go off to school and he remembered Darry had the morning off.

With a sigh Soda decided that he couldn't lay in bed all day. He pushed himself up and shifted to let his legs fall over the side of the bed. He rubbed the thigh of his left leg. It didn't hurt as bad as it did yesterday, but it was still aching. He hoped that it wouldn't be like this for the rest of his life. He didn't know how he was going to stand it.

He grabbed his cane from where it was leaning up against his nightstand next to his bed. His cane was a part of him now; it could never be more than an arm's length away. He was already starting to resent it.

"Morning Soda," came Darry's careful voice. Soda managed to not jump a mile at the sound. He figured that was an improvement at least. "There's some breakfast in the kitchen."

"Thanks," Soda mumbled as he limped into the kitchen. He knew that he sounded moody and he didn't even glance at where Darry sat. He still felt so tired.

After he finished eating Soda decided that he should shower as he still smelled of gasoline from work yesterday.

Soda didn't immediately see the problem with showering. He went into the bathroom and was pulling off his shirt before it dawned on him. He stared at the rim of the tub and suddenly felt resentment. He tried to lift his bad leg just to see… but came nowhere close to being able to step over the small porcelain wall.

Soda just stood there for several minutes, feeling anger bubbling to the surface once more. He reached up and grabbed the shower curtain rod up above his head and pulled on it, but it groaned painfully before he even put his full weight on it. He closed his eyes, counting to ten, trying to breath. He took a deep breath as he finished stripping and wrapped a towel around his waist and tied it off securely. He glared at himself in the mirror as he turned. What he was about to do was nothing short of humiliating.

He hung on to his cane as he limped to the door and opened it.

"Darry," he called, trying to hide the pain in his voice.

Darry appeared a moment later, looking concerned. "What's up, Soda?"

"I… I need…" He was looking down, unable to look at Darry. He sighed. "I need help." He was really starting to hate having to keep saying that. He paused. After a moment he felt the need to clarify. "I need help getting into the shower."

Darry glanced behind Soda, realization dawning on him. "Oh, sure thing, little buddy," he said.

Soda turned and limped back toward the tub. He couldn't believe this was happening right now. He had spent months in combat running around Vietnam, and now he couldn't step into a goddamn tub without his big brother's help. Darry grabbed Soda's arm as he leaned his cane up against the wall.

"I'm gonna step up on the rim with my good leg and then step down," Soda told Darry. "Just keep me steady." He wanted to do as much of this on his own as possible.

"Alright," Darry agreed.

He moved behind Soda and held his sides up near his armpits. As Soda shifted his weight to his bad leg he winced and had to rely on Darry to keep him up as his muscles gave way. He put his right foot on the rim of the tub and stepped up, pulling the rest of his body with him, laying a hand lightly on the shower rod just for balance. He swung his bad leg over and lowered himself into the tub. Again as he shifted his weight he had to rely on Darry to keep him up. It was a good thing Darry was so strong, holding up a nineteen year old was no easy task.

"Thanks," Soda mumbled as he turned back around, pulling away from Darry's grip.

"It's no problem," Darry said, still holding his hands out as if he were afraid Soda was going to fall. "You can stand okay?"

"Yeah, I'll keep my weight on my good leg," Soda said. He knew he could do that at least for a short amount of time.

Darry reached up and pulled on the shower rod, eyeing where it was attached to the wall and obviously finding it flimsy just as Soda had. "I can reinforce this tomorrow," he said thoughtfully.

"That would be helpful," Soda agreed dully.

"Just call me when you're done," Darry said, obviously trying to sound casual.

"Yeah," Soda said, yanking the curtain shut. He waited until he heard the door close before tossing the towel over the rod where it would be easy to grab again. He twisted the knob for water and pulled the plug to turn the shower on, leaning heavily on the wall and wishing there was something for him to hold onto. There was a blast of icy water that almost took the breath out of him. He twisted the hot water tap again to warm it up. Slowly the water warmed until it was uncomfortably hot. But he kept turning it until it wouldn't go any further. He wanted to burn this humiliating situation right off of him.

Soon he was starting to lose his balance, his leg getting tired. The last thing he wanted to do was fall in the shower and not be able to get up. That was the only way this situation could get worse. He shut off the water and grabbed the towel and tied it around himself again. Then he reached out and grabbed his cane, unable to hold himself up any longer.

Soda sighed, hardly believing that he had to call to his big brother like some toddler who can't wipe his own ass.

"Darry," he called, sweeping the shower curtain aside and feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Darry appeared a moment later. What, was he waiting outside the door the whole time? Soda thought irritably.

They repeated the action from earlier in reverse to get Soda out of the tub. He leg was hurting something awful from all the effort. He just left his dirty clothes on the floor of the bathroom, not the in mood to struggle to pick them up and knowing that Darry would do it for him. He limped down the hall and into his bedroom, closing the door a little louder than he meant to.

In a sudden burst of rage that he had never felt before, Soda lashed out and knocked over his bedside table, throwing it hard into the wall with one hand. He sat down heavily on the bed as he heard the expected knock on his door.

"Yeah?" he called without looking up.

"You okay, Soda?" came Darry's worried voice as he cracked open the door.

"Just fine," Soda mumbled, staring down at his cane still in his hand.

Darry walked in and closed the door behind him. He sat down next to Soda on the bed and was quiet for a minute.

"It's an adjustment," Darry said finally. "We all need to adjust. I'll fix up the shower so that you can get in and out on your own."

"An adjustment…" Soda repeated with a humorless laugh. "What would you know about it?"

"Nothing," Darry said with a sigh. "Soda, honestly, I have no idea what you are going through. I wish so bad that I could just fix this all somehow." He put a hand on Soda's shoulder, causing him to finally look up. "But I do have hope that this will get easier. Just don't shut us out, okay little buddy?"

Suddenly, without warning, Soda was aware of tears falling down his face. He lifted a hand and touched his cheek and found it damp. He looked up at Darry.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," he said quietly, his voice shaking. Hadn't he just been angry? When did he become sad? Everything seemed to be blurring together.

"There ain't nothing wrong with you," Darry insisted. "Soda, you've been through hell. It's not fair that this was forced on you. I think I'd be more worried if you were acting completely normal."

"What if this thing doesn't end?" Soda said, suddenly panicked. "What if two years pass and you get drafted? Or Pony?"

Darry looked away. He knew it was a very real possibility. "We'll deal with that when the time comes."

"What about Steve and Two-Bit?" Soda went on. "They could be drafted any day. I… I couldn't handle that. The things I saw while I was over there… you guys can't go through that."

Darry looked up and put an arm over Soda as he came close to hysterics. He had no comforting words for Soda. There was nothing he could do to ease his fears. He hushed lightly as he listening to Soda break down into sobs and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. That was his greatest fear, then. That someone he cared about would have to go through what he had been through while deployed. Then Darry glanced down and saw that the towel Soda was wearing had shifted, revealing his injured knee. It was warped and sick looking, covered in pink scar tissue. It was hard to tell if Soda was more damaged physically or mentally.

"This is all I can say," Darry finally said slowly. "There are only five left in our gang. Out of every of age male in the country, there are five of us. The draft already picked one of us. Hopefully that means it's that much less likely that the draft will pick another one of our five. Does that make any sense?" Soda was quiet. "It's like a tornado. Once a tornado tears through an area, what are the chances that another tornado will tear through that exact same area? Or lightening striking the same spot twice."

Soda pulled away, nodding and wiping away tears. "Thanks Darry," he said.

"We are all here for you, Soda," Darry said as he stood up. He paused. "You don't have to go into work today if you don't feel up to it."

"No, I should go," Soda said. "Sitting around here feeling sorry for myself isn't going to help anything. I just want things to feel… normal."

"Okay," Darry agreed. Soda was grateful that Darry wasn't going to argue with him. "Get dressed and I can drive you over there."

Soda nodded as Darry walked from the room and closed the door behind him. Soda took a deep breath. He felt determined to make this work. He was going to get better. He had to.