I own no one from The Outsiders.

Extra long chapter for all you Two-Bit lovers.

Please review and you'll make my day…my night…my universe.

Extra special thanks to Calla for her medical expertise.

XIV. Games We Play

*

"I'm sorry I punched you in the face, Dar."

"It's okay, Ponyboy." Darry's right eye is pink. The swelling has gone down but he's still squinting. "You got a good right hook in there."

I glance down at him from the exam room table, pulling the hospital gown tighter across the front of me. "I hate this," I mutter, trying to mask my fear. All this time I've been trying to tell myself nothing's wrong, but I can't hide anymore. Although I would've liked to. Damn you, Everett, I think, knowing he's behind this.

"I ain't too fond of it either." Darry says, checking his watch.

My foot's jumping a mile a minute. I'm debating whether or not to bring up Skelter and Sodapop, since now seems as good a time as any, when the door opens and the doctor steps in.

"Well…" Doctor Benson drawls, holding a white folder. I cross my arms, frowning.

I don't like the doctor. He's treated me like a test subject, saying nothing except "hmm" or "interesting" as he checked me over. His monotonous voice and detached attitude saying he'd rather be somewhere else. A sideways glance at Darry tells me my brother feels the same way.

"The test results came back." Doctor Benson pulls my chest X-rays from the folder. "They're not so good." Doctor Benson's eyes blink from behind his large glasses. The doctor sticks the x-ray films in front of what looks like a sheer picture frame. He flips a switch and they light up; my heart glows like the sun.

"Your brother's X-rays show an enlarged heart. We call this aortic stenosis. Can you see here…?" Benson points at the left side of my heart.

"Yes," Darry says, eyes glued to the x-ray. I sit very still, waiting, dreading.

"The left chamber isn't pumping as hard as it should, increasing pressure and decreasing blood flow," Benson continues. "In your brother's case it's exacerbated, which means a severe heart murmur. It's interesting to note that since he wasn't born with this it's a more recent development...an acquired condition." He looks at my chart almost giddily. "Very interesting indeed…"

Darry's focusing on his hands. He keeps making fists, balling them up tight and then releasing them. "So…what can we do?"

Benson strokes his beard, looking at me. "I understand that you're an athlete?"

I shrink back on the table. "Y-yes."

"And you smoke?"

"Yes."

"I see. Well, to minimize any more damage to yourself – your heart – you need to give them both up."

"I—I can't do that." It's the worst punishment I can think of—giving up track.

"He will," Darry says, as if I have no choice. He still won't look at me.

Taking off his glasses, Benson says, "Well, that will help some."

Darry finally glances my way. "Some?"

"Unfortunately, in his condition, there's not much else to do."

Tuning out, I cover the left side of my chest with my palm, suddenly conscious that my heart is a faltering object at the moment. Standing up, Darry walks over to me. He puts a hand on my shoulder. "That's not an option. Tell me what we can do."

Benson tries to appear sympathetic but fails miserably; he's busy, he just wants to go. He snaps my chart shut. "Mr. Curtis, there are some treatments, but let me stress there's really no cure for something like this. Surgery is always on the table but that's quite expensive…" For you, his eyes say, "…and risky. I'd be remiss if I didn't say cardiac failure or infection is a strong possibility."

I stiffen beneath Darry's hand, not so much at the doctor's words, but more at my anger with Everett. He could have at least warned me about this; I have no idea what to do now.

"We're done here." Darry's voice is ice. "Let's go, Pony." He hands me my jacket. Confused, I hop off the table, managing to get my pants on before Darry nearly shoves me out of the room, hospital gown and all.

"We'll get a better doctor," Darry says, outside in the hallway. He's in front of me, resting a fist on the white wall.

"Who, Dar?"

When Darry turns around to answer, he gets a real funny look on his face, like he's going to be sick to his stomach but is trying to keep it in.

*

Fate and I watch them from shadows.

Darry tells Sodapop Curtis about what the doctor has said. Darry keeps his voice strong, emotions checked. "He'll be okay, Soda." Darry twists his coffee cup around and around on the table. No one mentions Skelter, he's insignificant compared to this. "I should have taken him in sooner. We knew he didn't feel so good."

Soda is staring at the tabletop; every now and then his eyes dare a glance the closed bedroom door. Ponyboy's inside pretending to sleep.

Fate nudges me. "Pony wants to talk to you. He's very upset."

"Shh, Iris. I'm trying to listen."

"You're afraid," she points out.

"Tell me something. Anything." I want some news to take back to him.

"I won't."

*

"You knew this would happen," Ponyboy accuses. To his brothers, he's asleep in his bed, when he's really here with me.

"I did it," I tell him. "You needed help. Denial wasn't working."

Pony's face is so young, his reddish-brown hair, white face glowing in the dim light. He is admirable; trying so very hard to be strong. He switches off and on, toying between taking his health seriously and then shrugging it off.

Pony touches his chest. I wince, wishing he wouldn't do that. "Am I dying? Are you going to kill me?" His eyes glisten in the shady dark. "And Soda, what about him?"

"I still show what I did before. Believe what you want, I want your secrets not your life." I put my hands out to calm. "Just…think of it as a game. Don't give up."

I pat my own chest and say the one thing I know. "Just don't let this stop."

*

The sun's bright the next morning when Ponyboy Curtis wakes up. He picks up his pack of smokes, moseying out into the living room. Suddenly remembering yesterday, he grudgingly puts the pack on the coffee table.

Physically and mentally, he feels worse than he ever has; Pony's a tough act to keep.

Outside on the porch, he squints into the sun. His eyes widen and he walks closer to the railing, watching the car pulling into the driveway opposite them. Chris Meigs exits the vehicle, briefcase in hand, cup of coffee in the other.

I grin, wondering if it's coincidence or fate. Pony grins too, a thought popping into his head. The boy's definitely picking up on the random connections of life.

He's a doctor, Ponyboy thinks. He can help me. That's why he's here. I'm not sure if he's right or wrong but anything that keeps him going helps me out, messes with Iris. She deserves it and he deserves to have faith.

He wants to beat me.

Pony's excited at this latest development. So excited in fact that he hollers, "Darry!" not considering what a yell like that can do at this particular moment.

Inside, Darry spills his coffee all over his jeans. Rushing out, he finds his brother on the porch, grinning like a fool. Soda's soon to follow, shirtless, in boxer shorts, hair fluffed out, greaseless.

"Why're you yelling?" Darry exhales. "Kiddo?" Darry's chest tightens when Ponyboy looks at him with those green eyes.

Ponyboy points towards the house opposite theirs. "Chris Meigs."

*

Chris finishes listening to my chest with his stethoscope. He folds it together. "I hate to say this…but I have to agree with Doctor Benson." He sits on his pool table, wearing an orange Hawaiian shirt and flip flops. His game room doubles as an in-home exam office and I wonder how Darry feels about that.

"Even though he's a dick."

Chris winks at me and then turns to Darry and Sodapop. "It's not to say there's nothing we can do. There's surgery but before I suggest that…I'm hoping there are easier fixes." Hopping off his pool table, he sits on the chair across from me. "You need to ease off on the stress, smokes and I'm sorry to say this Ponyboy, but track."

"But I've been doing it for years," I insist. "I can't just stop—"

"Ponyboy," Soda says, sitting down next to me. "Just shut up."

Perplexed, Chris scratches his head. "I know. And normally people can have active lives but it's so advanced in you." He points at me. "Cut back on everything. My hope is that doing this will back it off some. But if you keep doing what you're doing, you'll continue passing out and your heart will just get worse. You can't afford that."

Darry won't sit. He keeps pacing the room which is driving Sodapop and me crazy. "But isn't he too young to have this…I mean…" Darry won't give up, grappling at facts, solutions.

"He is young," Chris agrees. "But I've seen stranger. The weird thing is..." Chris looks over the tests he could run at home. "Pony clearly has aortic issues…but the other results…I can't discern. Weight loss, fever...you need to watch those."

I drop my eyes; those are courtesy of Everett. Chris pulls out a business card. He gives it to Darry. "I'll be his physician. Don't worry about it."

Darry's shoulders slump in relief. "Thank you."

"After all it's the least I can do," Chris says, grinning. "He helped me move." Chris pats my hand. "I should have known something was up when Nurse Waters told me about you." It's barely noticeable but Darry pales. I keep my eyes on Chris and my mouth shut.

"Lay low for a while," Chris advises Darry. "Keep an eye on him and we'll check back in a week."

*

Two-Bit's telling good jokes. I can tell he's wired. He keeps wiping down the kitchen table in the same spot as before.

"What's with you?"I ask. But I'm jumpy too; knocking over the can of green beans and the mashed potatoes. They spill all over the floor, green juice going everywhere, globs of potatoes. "Damn it."

"I've had a beer." He gestures at the mess on the floor as I squat down. "What's your excuse Susie Homemaker?"

The towel's soaked as I wipe up the spill. "It's the weather. Makes me nervous." The wind's whipping through the blinds, black skies rolling in.

"Think a twister's coming?" Two-Bit asks, shutting the window.

I pause for a moment before standing up, catching my breath. So far, I've been fine since seeing Chris. I'm trying to lay low. "If it is, Darry and Sodapop better get home."

"What about Steve?"

"What about him?" I raise an eyebrow, turning the stove on.

Two-Bit hoots. "Kid, you're heartless!" Suddenly, he pales, snapping his mouth shut. "Shit. I didn't mean that…"

I wave him off. "It's okay Two-Bit." I fight with another can of vegetables, the can opener sticking on the tin lid. "You better work on your comebacks though." I give him a smile.

Two-Bit runs a hand through his hair, his sideburns are longer than I've ever seen them. "So, uh, the doc say anything new?" He goes to get a beer from the fridge but doesn't open it. He's staring at the photo Darry's stuck to the freezer door. It's the one of my mom and Sodapop; me in her belly.

"Nope." I busy myself with dinner, dumping the can of carrots in another pot. The food should be appealing but I have no appetite. "I go back next week, after school starts."

"Pony…" Two-Bit's voice is low. "Get down."

"Two-Bit, what're you—?" My eyes widen as I see that the gust of wind outside has picked up; it's a near howl. Then, the tree in the neighbor's yard slams through our backdoor and the lights go out.

*

"Goddamn twister," Two-Bit whispers. "I knew it."

"I can't see a thing." I hiss.

"It's black as shit," Two-Bit whispers again.

"Nice image," I whisper and then catch myself. "Wait? Why are we whispering?"

"You always whisper in the dark, kid. Didn't you know that? It's good luck."

"You're full of it, Two-Bit." I laugh but find myself actually considering his words.

It's pitch black outside and having the electricity knocked out everywhere isn't helping. It's only five in the evening but it could double as midnight. In the distance, I can hear vague sirens of all types. Crawling around on my hands and knees, I feel for the living room.

Finally, I touch carpet.

I sigh. "I hope Darry and Soda are okay." Even Steve.

"They're fine," Two-Bit snaps. "We're the idiots, slaving away over dinner while everyone else flees for safety…" His griping continues until he abruptly cuts off, sucking in a breath.

"Two-Bit?"

"I possibly, might have, 75 percent sure stepped on glass." He's quiet and then exhales. "Yep. Definitely glass."

I wince. "I'm soaked in beer too," he grumbles.

"That," I say, "Does not surprise me." My chest gives a flutter and I freeze. I hear Two-Bit scurrying around.

"I suppose now's the time to tell you that I hate clowns."

"That's kind of ironic, considering you pass as one every day." I rub the left side of my chest, thankful it's dark.

"That hurts, Pony."

"Fine," I mutter, giving in. "Party clowns or rodeo clowns?"

"Party. I swear to god they're all crazy with their little red noses and frizzy hair. I mean, why dress like that? Really, for fun? One day they're gonna be at some poor schmuck's birthday and just go off." Noticing my quiet, Two-Bit asks, "Kid? You okay?"

"No."

"What's wrong?"

"You're still talking."

"You're a smartass."

"Two-Bit," I ask, taking advantage of his honesty. "Is it over with Skelter?"

"I have no idea. I'm just along for the ride."

I flop onto my back, getting some relief from the pressure in my chest. It's funny what people can admit to when they can't see each other. "I think…someone's gonna get hurt. Me or Sodapop." I amend this. "I know it."

Two-Bit's quiet for a long time. "Don't think like that. You'll both be fine. We won't let nothin happen." He swears as he knocks the lamp over, trying to stand up. More glass shatters. You'd think he'd know the house by now. "I'm lying down," he announces. The house sways in the wind.

"That's a good idea."

"I remember when that picture was taken."

"Which one?"

"The one on the fridge." He laughs. "Let's just say Darry was not excited about you."

I smile in the blackness. "I can imagine."

"He'd whine and complain about another brother…but well, the minute you came along…he got…bossy." I hear him smile in the dark.

"So that's where it started," I murmur. We both yawn. It'd be so easy to sleep. Tornadoes are a dime a dozen, usually we make it to the basement but right now it's calming. I think of Everett, wondering what else he knows…what he's not telling me…

Headlights flood the yard, illuminating the inside of the house. Two car doors slam, voices shouting at each other. Soda's swearing a blue streak at something.

"Bring in the cavalry," Two-Bit drawls. "Sound the alarms…"

"Send in the clowns…" I laugh.

"That's confidential!" Two-Bit yelps.

"Pony!" Darry yells as he opens the door.

"Jesus Christ," Soda curses. "I can't see a goddamn thing." He kicks at something in the room and the coat rack falls over, bouncing off Darry's recliner.

"Speak for yourself," Two-Bit says. Darry shines the flashlight on him. I turn my head; Two-Bit's lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He's nearly in the hallway, the lampshade sitting on his chest.

"Where's Ponyboy?" Soda asks.

"Thanks, Sodapop, I'm safe. Not maimed. Clearly in one piece." Two-Bit blinks at the light and then raises an eyebrow. "He's around. Let's play hot and cold."

"Two-Bit!"

"Here, Darry," I mumble before Darry can start in on him. The flashlight switches to me. I'm lounging by the couch, looking upward at both my brothers. I wave at them. "Howdy."

Relief flickers on Soda's face. "Right back at ya."

I roll onto my side, smiling as I see my two brothers in one piece. "Are you two okay?"

Soda kneels next to me. "We are now."

*

It's going to get harder. He doesn't know it yet but I do. From what Fate, dear Iris, tells me, he won't die yet, but it's not going to be painless.

I'm trying to stay away but I watch them when I can. Darry has lit candles and they all sit in the dark, tornado over and done with. The house is messy but in shape. The only disaster the back door caved in by the oak tree.

Ponyboy and Two-Bit are teasing each other. Pony's on his back, gripping his stomach from the laughter, both of them— Two-Bit and Pony – feel the pressure, the release. They mean a lot to each other, those two. They connect on a whole other level; one rare for each of them. Two-Bit isn't afraid to act serious in front of Pony and Ponyboy gets goofy.

Ponyboy, long-legged and skinny, sits up. His eyes are glassy, face red. Soda, sitting next to him in the middle of the floor, evaluates the mess. "I really don't want to clean this up," Soda mutters. "So why don't you?" He hugs his brother, tickling his ribs. Pony giggles, tugging away from Sodapop only to get ambushed by Two-Bit.

Darry sits, resting his back against the couch. "This house has seen better days." But his eyes are on his brothers, hoping Pony's recent diagnosis was a fluke, hoping Sodapop backs off of Skelter, his teenage rebellion, whatever it is Soda feels he has to prove.

Because Darry feels the worry too. Chris Meigs gave him hope but not much; he's still wary. He's feeding off me and Ponyboy.

I infect everything I touch.

*

Pardon any typos.

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