Thank you again to the people who reviewed! I have to admit, though, I'm kind of disappointed that I only got 3 reviews on the last chapter. It kind of makes me think people didn't like it. If that's the case, let me know so I can improve!

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Lost and broken
Hopeless and lonely
Smiling on the outside
Hurt beneath my skin
My eyes are fading
My soul is bleeding
I'll try to make it seem okay
But my faith is wearing thin

So you come along
I push you away
Then kick and scream for you to stay
'cause I need someone to help me
~~Good Charlotte—Wounded

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The third stoplight in a row turned red and I groaned as I brought the truck to a stop. The drive to the hospital seemed to be taking forever. I was still supposed to be at work, but the predicted blizzard had started mid-morning and the boss had sent everyone home. Normally I would've volunteered to stay despite the weather, but I was anxious to get out as early as possible. I couldn't get the look on Soda's face as we left last night out of my head. Steve had said he'd drop by to see Soda, but he couldn't stay all day and I didn't want to leave Soda alone for too long. I didn't want him to feel abandoned.

I finally reached the hospital and found a parking spot. As I made my way through the corridors, I grew more and more nervous. His reaction to Two-Bit touching him had thrown all of us off. I'd talked to Steve, and he'd said that Soda had been the same way with the doctors in the army hospital, too. Soda was a lot of things, but he wasn't a dramatist. Something more than the physical pain was bothering him. Not that any of us expected him to be sociable after what he'd gone through, but a pat on the arm didn't seem very invasive.

Soda's door was open when I reached it and a nurse was just leaving. She smiled at me and I nodded back. "How's he doing?" I asked quietly, not wanting him to overhear me.

"He's good, considering the circumstances. Everything is healing nicely. I've just finished helping him clean up, so he's awake if you want to visit." She turned and disappeared down the corridor. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into Soda's room.

His hair was wet and he was still only half dressed. He was just putting his arms through his shirt sleeves, but his chest was still fully visible and I felt myself go rigid at the sight. It was littered with fading bruises, some of them as big as my hand. He had bandages wrapped around his torso to help his ribs and I could see more bruises that disappeared beneath the white gauze. Soda's head snapped up when he heard my footsteps and I saw a fleeting look of panic cross his face. He instantly tried to yank the shirt over his head, but he hissed and stopped, letting out a small moan.

I crossed the few steps to his side and gently reached out a hand to help him, but I caught sight of his back and my hand stopped in midair. The cuts covered his back and even though they were healing, there was no doubt about how deep they'd been. My mind seemed to freeze. I opened my mouth, trying to think of something to say, but nothing came out. Soda tried again to put his shirt on, more slowly this time, and I carefully reached out to help him. He didn't back away, but he didn't make eye contact, either. When we were done, he stared at his lap. "I didn't want you to see," he said quietly.

"I would've seen it eventually," I reminded him. I sat down and he slowly raised his eyes to meet mine. They were filled with regret and I forcefully swallowed back my anger at the people who had done this. "Soda, this wasn't your fault," I insisted firmly, reaching out to take his hand. "There was nothing you could've done to stop it."

"Yeah there was," he whispered, barely audible.

"Soda, no. You can't blame yourself. What happened was not your fault," I repeated, but it didn't seem to have any effect. Soda sat in silence for a minute and when he finally looked back up, his face was blank again, like it had been the night before.

"How was work? You're here early. Did something happen?" His voice was casual, but there was a hint of shakiness in it. I knew Soda well enough to know there was no point in pushing him into talking. It was better to go back to the topic later. Right now, he would just keep backing away from it.

"There's a blizzard coming. The boss sent us home so no one would get snowed in."

Soda looked wistfully out the window at the falling snow. "Can you take me outside?" he asked, turning to me hopefully.

I gave him an apologetic smile and shook my head. "Your hair is soaking wet, Soda. You'll freeze if you go outside now."

He ran his fingers through his hair and laughed a little. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he agreed. "Later?" He gave me the same hopeful look and I nodded.

"Later," I promised, taking his hand in mine.

He was quiet for a minute before he spoke again. "It feels good to be clean." I gave him a confused look and he dropped his gaze. "They didn't let me have a shower in…over there. The only times they took me out of my cell were when…when they…tortured me." A few tears ran down his face and I closed my hand tighter around his.

"It's over now, Soda." I moved so I was sitting on the side of the bed and gently wiped away the tears, trying to comfort him. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me, burying his face against my shoulder as he did. He'd been so withdrawn I was surprised at the sudden change, but I quickly pulled him closer. He didn't cry, but he kept a firm hold on me for a long time.

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I watched the snow steadily fall outside as I listened to Soda's steady breathing beside me. When he'd finally pulled away from me, he'd fallen asleep almost right away. His earlier comment was still bothering me. I didn't want him blaming himself for anything that had happened to him, but I didn't know how to convince him it wasn't his fault.

Footsteps interrupted my thoughts and I looked up to see Ponyboy and Steve come into the room. "Hi," I greeted. "How was school, Pony?"

He shrugged and sat down in the chair next to mine. "It was fine. Couldn't concentrate much, though."

"It'll get better," I assured him, trying to sound more confident than I felt. He just nodded, barely hearing what I was saying. He was watching Soda sleep. I decided to take the opportunity to talk with Steve. I headed to the door, motioning for Steve to follow me.

When we were in the hall, he stopped and looked at me. "Everything okay, Darry?" he asked.

"Did Soda talk to you about what happened at all?" I questioned. I was hoping that maybe Soda had been more open when he'd first been rescued, or that maybe Steve had found something out from the doctors in 'Nam. The ones here hadn't been very forthcoming. They kept citing confidentiality issues. If Soda had been under eighteen they would've told me everything. On the other hand, if Soda had still been under eighteen, he never would've been over there in the first place.

Steve sighed and shook his head. "No, he's barely said a word about what happened. No one over there would tell me anything, either." I started leading the way to the cafeteria, planning to pick up a few snacks.

"Do you know what happened to his back?" I asked cautiously. An image of the long, crisscrossing scars flashed in my mind and I gave a small, involuntary shiver.

"He told me it was from a fan belt," Steve said, anger lacing his voice.

I froze in the middle of the hall and turned to face him. "A fan belt?" I asked in disbelief. Steve nodded, fire burning in his eyes. "Shit," I muttered. I started walking again, Steve limping beside me. He wasn't using his crutches, but I noticed he had them with him. "What about his leg?" I didn't really want to know the answer, but there was no point ignoring it.

Steve shook his head again. "He didn't tell me anything else. Rick didn't know anything, either."

"Who's Rick?"

"He found Soda. He said Soda was unconscious most of the time he was with him, though."

We'd reached the cafeteria and I put a couple of ham sandwiches and drinks on a tray. On the way to the cash register we passed the dessert fridge and I grabbed a brownie out of it. Soda had wolfed down the chocolate cake the day before so fast I'd been afraid he was going to choke, so I figured more chocolate couldn't hurt.

"You'll let me know if he tells you anything else?" I asked as we were heading back to Soda's room.

"Of course, Darry."

I nodded. When we got to Soda's room, we found him awake, but he was pale and shaking. He was leaning against the pillow, his arms wrapped around himself, Pony standing next to him looking unsure what to do. "What happened?" I demanded, quickly setting the food down and heading over to the bed. Soda shrank back, fear shining in his eyes. "Pony, what happened?" I asked again, turning to my youngest brother. It was Steve who answered.

"It was a nightmare, wasn't it, Soda?" Soda nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Pony asked softly. Soda shook his head and hugged himself more tightly.

Steve caught my eye and gestured to the tray of food behind me. I got his meaning and turned around to get the brownie. "We brought you something, Soda," I said, reaching out to offer him the dessert.

With a small smile, he slowly took it from me. "Thanks, Darry." As he unwrapped it and took a bite, I saw a bit of color return to his face. He seemed to notice the silence in the room and he spoke up between bites. "How's school Pony? Work isn't taking up too much time, is it?" I saw Pony falter a bit at the sudden casual question, but he recovered and managed to answer. As he told Soda about his classes, work—anything Soda asked about—I exchanged a glance with Steve. I could tell from the look on his face that this wasn't the first nightmare Soda had had, and we both knew it wasn't going to be the last.

When Pony had exhausted the subject of school, the room was filled with silence again. Soda seemed to grow tired of staring at his lap and he turned to the window. I saw his eyes brighten and I remembered the blizzard. "You ready to go outside, Soda?" I asked.

"More than ready," he agreed eagerly, sitting up straighter. I smiled at his change in attitude, relieved he'd found something to distract himself with.

I headed to the nurses' station to find out about a wheelchair and an extra blanket. When I'd gotten what I needed, I quickly headed back to Soda's room. He was already sitting on the edge of the bed, ready to go. He had on a sweatshirt now, courtesy of the care package Ponyboy had brought with us the day before. His legs dangled over the edge of the bed, his cast sticking out at the foot of the jogging pants he was wearing. When I brought the wheelchair up beside him, he put an arm around my neck and I lifted him into the chair, being as careful as I could of all his injuries. I saw him wince, but nothing more.

We moved through the corridors, Pony and Steve walking beside us. I'd covered Soda up with the blanket in an effort to protect him from the cold. I didn't want him getting sick on top of everything else. When we got outside, I looked down at Soda's face. It was completely lit up as he took in the newly fallen snow. Big, fluffy flakes swirled down around us and Soda reached his hand out to catch some, watching them melt as they met the warmth of his skin.

"It's beautiful," Pony smiled.

"Remember you said that when we're shoveling the driveway later," I reminded him, and his smile faded.

We stayed outside for a long time, mesmerized by the falling snow. "It's so quiet." Steve broke the silence and I nodded at his comment.

Soda's expression suddenly darkened. "Let's go in." His voice was tense.

"You sure?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm getting cold." He was lying. I looked to Pony and Steve and saw they knew it, too, but I didn't see any point in calling Soda on it. He hardly spoke a word the rest of the evening.

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Friday morning came slower than I wanted it to. I was tired of hospitals, tired of being trapped in a single room with nothing to do and nothing to look at. Pony had spent the entire night before pestering Darry to let him skip school so he could be there when I came home. Darry had finally given in, more to shut Pony up than anything else. When they showed up at nine, I was dressed, packed, and ready to go.

"You gonna be okay on crutches?" Darry asked uncertainly as we got to the front door.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, Dare, I'll be fine. I've been using them all week."

"Alright, alright," he relented, handing them over. Taking them, I pushed myself out of the wheelchair and started making my way towards the truck. It would be another three weeks before I'd get the cast off. The doctor said the best case scenario after that would be two more weeks before I could think about going back to work, and only if there was minimal walking involved. I was determined to make the recovery time as short as possible; work would offer a distraction, which I was desperate for. Sitting around all day with nothing to do just gave me time to dwell on everything that had happened, and that was something I'd rather avoid.

As we got closer to the house, I started getting fidgety. Everything was familiar, but it was all so distant in my memory. We passed houses I recognized, but hadn't seen in months. The familiarity was a comfort, even if it was strange. I sucked in a breath as Darry pulled into our driveway. I could hardly believe I was finally home.

"You ready?" I jumped at the sound of Darry's voice. He had the passenger door open and was waiting for me to get out.

"Yeah, sorry," I apologized. I realized Pony was waiting for me to get out, too. I grabbed the crutches and slid to the edge of the truck, letting Darry help me to the ground. I hobbled up the driveway and followed Darry in the front door.

The living room looked the same as it always had and I drank in the sight. I'd spent countless hours in my cell dreaming of it and it was surreal to finally be there. "You should sit down, Soda," Pony suggested, nodding to the couch. "The doctor said you shouldn't be on your leg for very long."

"I'm not putting any weight on it," I argued, but I moved to the couch anyway. I hadn't slept well the night before and the thought of just sitting and resting was far too inviting. Pony followed me while Darry headed off to the kitchen.

"You happy to be home?" Pony asked, taking my crutches and leaning them against the wall once I'd sat down.

"I have never in my life been so happy to see this place," I laughed. Darry smiled at me as he came in from the kitchen carrying a glass of chocolate milk.

"It's good to have you back here," he agreed as he handed me the glass. "It wasn't the same with you gone, Pepsi."

Pony and Darry both sat down on either side of me, keeping their distance. I didn't want distance right now, though. I'd dreamed so long of being safe and this was the first time I really and truly felt like I was. I scooted over towards Darry and rested my head on his shoulder, then reached my hand out for Pony. I saw him smile as he moved over and put his arm around me. As Darry pulled me closer, I closed my eyes, sinking into a small piece of heaven.

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