"Wake up! Kit, you have to wake up," I vaguely heard a voice urging. "Come on Kit! Wake up!"
"Urgh," I moaned. I tried to lift my head but a wave of nausea caused me to slam my eyes shut again. "We're even Dally," I murmured. I kept my eyes closed but I could feel him there. I could feel Dally pulling me towards him in a warm hug, something so un-Dally-like I almost didn't want to believe it, but the warmth enveloped me and before I could fight it, I was sinking into his arms, his face pressed roughly into the top of my head.
"You did good, Kitten," he whispered. "You did real good."
"Please! Kit, wake up!"
I groaned again and let my body relax. I was done. I had no fight left. I sank into Dally's arms, no longer remembering that he was dead. For a split moment, I wondered if I was dying, but the calm that washed over me was so welcoming, so warm, I couldn't fight it any longer. Then I felt my little brother's hand wrap around mine, his soft fingers drawing circles in my rough, scarred skin.
"You can rest now, Kit, it's over," Kipper's voice whispered. "You're safe now."
"She's not going to die, is she?" Brooklyn asked while she watched the doctor's cart Kit off the surgery. She was standing beside Soda, who was holding her hand to keep her grounded. "She's going to be okay?"
"We're going to do everything we can," the doctor assured her. "The ball's in her court."
Brooklyn sighed heavily and slowly made her way over to the chairs. Darry, Sodapop, Steve, Two-Bit and Ponyboy were all gathered in the waiting room. They had come as soon as the fuzz called them. Thankfully, Brooklyn had made it out of the accident with only minor scratches and both pups were absolutely fine. They were currently locked in Darry's truck while the rest waited for an updated.
"She drove all the way to New York to get you?" Darry asked for the millionth time. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact. "Did she even know you existed?"
No one had known Dally had a little sister. He never talked about her.
"She was trying to find our mom," Brooklyn explained. "She found me instead."
"Aren't you a bit young to be runnin' away?" Steve grumbled. Brooklyn couldn't tell what bothered him more, the fact that his car was in rough shape or the fact that Kit was really badly hurt.
"I'm fifteen," she said stubbornly. "My mom cut me loose when I was ten. I'm more 'en old enough to be on my own."
Steve snorted then returned his attention to a spot on the floor. He wouldn't tell anyone, but he was worried about Kit. Seeing her so fragile and weak had scared the daylights outta him. He wasn't used to her needing help. Kit was stronger than all of them combined. Seeing her so helpless made him wonder if even Superman had a breaking point.
"She saved me," Brooklyn said softly. "She said she owed my brother."
Everyone turned to look at her, their eyes all showing different emotions. Darry looked worried, Steve looked bitter, Soda looked sad, Two-Bit looked confused and Ponyboy just looked crushed. She sighed heavily and leaned against the far wall, a weed hanging out her mouth while she thought back to the crash. How Kit threw her arm in front of her to keep her from flying forward, causing herself to crash her head painfully into the steering wheel. She remembered the pups yelping and crying and how she had to force the door open, only to realize that the car was in rough shape. She remembered tying both pups to the door before trying everything in her power to get Kit to wake up.
She remembered someone calling an ambulance and how she struggled to remember the number to the Curtis's house. Kit had only told her it once. She remembered begging the fuzz to let her ride with Kit, but they insisted that she rode in an ambulance on her own. She remembered vaguely asking where they'd take the car, so she could tell Steve.
She remembered feeling like it was all her fault. She knew Kit was in no shape to drive. She should have stopped her.
"Hey, you okay?" Soda asked as he came over to stand beside her. He looked at her with troubled eyes. "You're swaying."
"I'm fine," she said softly. "Just worried, ya know? Kit's gonna have a cow when she realizes she nearly totaled his car," she added as she motioned towards Steve. "She really didn't mean to."
"Steve knows that," Soda said, shooting his best friend a knowing look. "Besides, hitting a tree is better than hitting a big rig."
"I'm not worried about my car," Steve murmured, coming to stand next to Soda. "I'm worried about Kit. She looked really messed up."
"She'd been sick the whole time," Brooklyn murmured, her voice hitching.
"What do you mean?" Darry asked. He had known something sounded off when she called, but he had no idea how bad it was.
"She had a fever and could barely keep food down. She kept saying she was fine, that it was just because of her leg being infected, but golly, she was so sickly looking. She slept almost a whole 24 hours before we finally hit the final stretch to get here. She's really bad," Brooklyn whispered. "I knew I should have had her pull over and let me call for help…I knew…" she broke down in tears. Her shoulders trembled as she tried to fight back tears. Brooklyn didn't cry. She wasn't the emotional type. But in the short time she'd known Kit, she had grown to admire the older girl and look up to her. She didn't have a strong family support growing up, and even just a few days with Kit had made her feel safe and like she belonged.
"She's gonna be okay, you'll see," Soda said reassuringly. Soda pulled the younger girl in for a hug and smoothed her messy hair back. "Kit's strong. She's going to be okay."
"How can you be so sure?" Brooklyn sniffed, her face buried in his chest.
"Because I've known her my entire life," he said softly. "She'll die for her family, but she sure as hell won't die for herself. She's too damn stubborn."
That earned a soft chuckle from Two-Bit.
"He's right, kid, Kit's got a lion's heart. She'll pull through this," he said. "She's stronger than all us guys put together."
"You didn't see her," Brooklyn whispered. "You…"
"For Jo-Anna Beth Stevenson?" a male's voice broke into their conversation. Everyone turned to see a doctor wearing a grim expression waiting for them to respond. Everyone was on their feet a moment later.
"Are all of you family?" he asked sternly. Everyone nodded.
"Sit down," he motioned, a chart in his hands.
Once everyone was seated, the doctor took a deep breath and turned his attention to Darry, seeming to realize that he was the oldest and calmest of the group.
"Jo-Anna suffered multiple injuries in the accident but none as severe as the infection in her right leg," he said calmly. "We had to cut away the infection as well as some of the muscle that was effected. While she should regain use of the leg, she's going to have a long, painful road to recovery. She also suffered a concussion, a fractured wrist and multiple lacerations and bruises in the wreck. Overall, I'd say she is extremely lucky. We have her on a strong antibiotic right now to fight off the rest of the infection but she should be waking up soon. I reckon y'all would like to see her?"
"Can we?" Soda asked eagerly.
"Under normal circumstances I'd only let two in at a time, but I know your lot. You aren't going to wait your turn, so s'long as you don't overwhelm her, y'all are all more than welcomed to go on in," he nodded. Brooklyn shuffled where she stood, not entirely sure if she should follow the gang back.
"C'mon, she likes you," Soda said, glancing over his shoulder. "Let's go see her!"
They didn't stay long, seeing Kit hooked to different wires and her face as white as the sheets she laid on caused them all to feel uneasy. Despite Soda and Ponyboy trying to convince him otherwise, eventually Darry told everyone it was better if they went home – that Kit needed her rest.
For the next month, Kit was in and out of consciousness, her body being ransacked by the fever and infection. Sometimes she was lucid and could carry a conversation, other times she was in a delirious state, talking to people only she could see.
Over those four weeks, Brooklyn had been taken in by the gang, crashing in the room that Kit once shared with Kipper. She managed to score a job down at the local supermarket, which helped pay the bills that never seemed to stop coming in.
Steve managed to fix up his car, after spending a week trying to track it down. He wasn't even angry anymore. He just wanted Kit to get better. The house felt empty without her.
Pony, now fully recovered from his own illness, was slowly but surely getting back into the swing of things. His grades had dropped dramatically, but he was doing the best he could, while trying to cope with the loss of three of their friends.
Soda was working longer at the DX, helping Darry come up with money to pay off not only Ponyboy's medical bills, but Kit's as well. The last thing he wanted was her coming home and having to worry about bills she'd never be able to pay off.
Two-Bit actually got a real job. For the first time in his life, stepping up into the adult world as a working, contributing adult.
Darry agreed to let the two pups stay, on the condition that Soda, Ponyboy and Brooklyn looked after them. They were given names that fit their personalities perfectly; Greaser for the bigger, darker pup, and Knick-Knack for the smaller, golden pup. Ponyboy couldn't have been happier with the newest additions.
And Darry? Darry had the biggest changes over that four-week span. He went easier on Ponyboy, finally starting to understand and listen to his youngest brother. Nearly losing him, then losing Kip, Johnny and Dally had softened him up. He still gave Ponyboy grief about his grades and scolded him when necessary, but he wasn't as hard as him, as par Soda's request. The three had grown to understand one another in ways they never thought possible.
Brooklyn had something to do with that. She became the little sister the three of them needed, a common person who needed brothers to protect her. Even though she was as hard and careless as Dally had been, she was still a girl, and she was still fragile. She wasn't like Kit, who was able to hold her own, she hadn't grown up in Tulsa. While New York City had taught her how to be street smart, she didn't know the city like the guys did.
After a long and trying month, Kit's fever finally broke and she was finally well enough to go home. But the doctor warned them that it would take months for her to fully recover. While the infection was gone, the damage to her leg was ever present and only time would tell if she'd recover fully.
"We've been through hell and back, yet we always stick together," Kit said after Darry helped her get situated on the couch late her first night home. "Want to know something funny?"
"What's that?" Darry asked, wrapping the old afghan around her thin, fragile frame.
"Dally didn't know nothin' about lovin' anyone, but he was right about one thing," she said, her eyes fluttering shut as she got comfortable. "He knew what it meant to be loyal and stickin' things out till the end. Dally went through hell and back for us and in the end, Dallas Winston got what he wanted."
Darry mused over her words as he wandered into the kitchen to finish organizing the bills. He couldn't help but smile at the thought.
"No," he said aloud to no one in particular. "It's you Kit, it's all you." Darry knew that they had a long road ahead of them. Everyone was still grieving in their own ways, but he knew deep in his heart that with the gang by his side, they would all be able to come back from this. They could do anything as long as they stuck it out together.
"We're Greasers," he said, patting the dark pup who was patiently sitting at his side. "We know it's rough all over, we just know how to get on with our lives."
When Darry made his way back into the living room later that night, he wasn't the least bit surprised at what he saw. Kit was lying on the couch, her head in Steve's lap, one hand resting on Soda's arm. Soda was sleeping on the floor, half leaned against the couch, his right arm resting on Steve's lap, giving Kit an angle to grip it. Brooklyn was on the other end of the couch, Kit's feet propped in her lap, her arms draped over her protectively. Ponyboy was curled painfully into Soda's side on the floor, while Two-Bit was stretched out in the armchair. Knick-Knack was asleep on his lap, while Greaser followed at Darry's side.
Darry considered waking everyone up and ushering them to more comfortable sleeping arrangements, but he didn't have the heart to move them. Instead, he leaned against the couch and stretched out next to his brothers. Somehow, it just felt right. Everyone camped out in the living room like they had so many times before. Darry smiled to himself as his eyes closed, Greaser crawling into his lap, his warm, dark fur providing Darry with just the right amount of comfort and warmth.
For that night, for that one, simple night, everything seemed right in the world. The bills would be there tomorrow. The troubles and chaos and uncertain futures would all still be there. But in that moment, there was a calm that the gang hadn't felt in what seemed like a very long time. That night, everyone slept peacefully for the first time in months. Because they had each other and they were safe.
A/N: I decided to end this story on a high note, because the sequel will be even more bitter sweet. Let me know what you think and keep your eyes out! Part 2 of this little saga will be up before you know it!