warning: mentions of suicide attempts, severe depression. please read at your own risk.

Hi there, friends! So happy to be back here.

I guess you could consider this a sister story to London Bridge!

As always, review if you wish. I hope you enjoy!

will i ever find you again

It takes me approximately three minutes to realize I'm drowning.

Dying shouldn't be something you're happy with. Dying shouldn't be something that you wish for when you're just shy of ninteen. But for some reason, I'm at peace.

Water floods my lungs, choking me of breath, but I don't dare rise to the surface. I don't want to be saved; I'm not worth being saved. I'm not worth the worry, the remorse, the screams that left their lungs when I chose to fall off of that ledge. I deserve everything I've ever experienced; dropping out of high school, working a lame job, going to war. It all happened because I couldn't get my shit together.

I wish I could be a better person. It's too late for that now.

I'm coming, Momma. I can see you again.

I can feel myself losing the desire to keep my eyes open, keep my lungs grasping for air they will never have again. My vision begins to blur, and the white light of death takes me into its arms and holds me.

Through the quiet, I hear something. I feel someone's arms tug at my waist, the water rushing past my skin as I'm hauled into a dark sky, a cold breeze, and I realize that I failed at dying, too.

"Give him here!"

"You're fucking insane, Darry. Who the hell named you the one to dive in an' grab him?"

"We ain't got time to argue, Steve!"

Something's pumping my chest as my heartbeat fights for control. Their warm bodies press againt me, trying to provide protection from the bitter wind. I'm frozen, unable to think, breathe, move.

Unable to wish I hadn't been saved.

The voices crowd me again, the loudest being, "Come on, Soda, breathe."

"He has to live!"

"He's gonna be fine, Pone. Darry's doing what he's supposed to do."

My little brother's voice rings through the CPR: "Come back, Soda...please."

"Roll him on his side, Dar. I heard that's a way to get the water outta his lungs."

Darry's shaking hands move me, and I'm immediately in pain. My ribs feel like they're going to rip out of my body. Will I die then, if my ribs move out of place? Something tells me I won't. Another hand - I think it's Steve - pat roughly against my back, trying to make me cough.

Pony's rapid, panicked breathing rests on my face. "Soda, please... Please stay!" And I hate that I dont want to stay.

I feel water rise in my windpipe, and I hold it back. Maybe I'll lost consciousness fast enough that I can't see their faces. Maybe the water won't come out matter how hard Steve slaps my back. Maybe it's all a dream, an out-of-body experience.

Steve rams another blow to my back, and to my horror, the water rushes through my mouth, scorching my throat. I feel all of them sigh in quiet relief.

"That's it, Soda," Darry's calm voice sticks through the gagging and spluttering. His voice is muffled, barely audible, but his warm hand brushes my soaked hair away from my face, and I feel dread at the way he pets me like I'm some dog. "That's it, baby. You're okay."

I feel Pony's breath against my face again. His voice is muffled, too, but I hear him cry out, "Soda!"

"Give him some space."

The rocks on the shore are cool against my face as I finally stop hauling water out of my body. I lay there, in the quiet, in the cold, in the aftermath of my own self-destruction.

Two sets of hands move me on my back, and they immediately stop as I grunt in pain.

Darry's green eyes hold my blurring gaze from above me. "Soda? Stay with us, Soda. We're gonna get help."

I feel tears well at the edge of my vision. My voice is raspy, my throat raw from coughing up water, but I manage to say, "Don't."

Darry's eyes find themselves lost in pity. "Soda..."

Pony's hand grasps mine, and I feel him bury his face in my neck. "You're gonna be fine."

"Please don't... don't do this."

Darry shares a look with Pony. I immediaely see the same question burning: Was he hoping to die?

"Here's this, Dar." I'm suddenly warmed by another person's heat as a jacket is thrown over my shivering body. It smells like tobacco; Two-Bit.

I bypass the pain in my lungs, in my ribs, as I start to sit up. My head swims with black dots and I feel everyone's baited breath, like they're expecting me to collapse. Darry's hand rests on the small of my back, and Pony has to endure my tight hold on him, but he never complains.

"Easy, easy." They say this all at once, and then look at each other in shock. A smile grows at the corner of my mouth, but it's gone as I hiss. Pony allows me to fall into him, and the tears that were once at the corner of my eye finally make themselves known.

"Let me die," I choke out, and Pony's body stiffens beneath mine.

Steve bends down to my level and raises my chin off of Pony's shoulder. His eyes are intense, but I don't know why. From fear? Anger? Pity?

"That ain't ever gonna happen, and you know that."

I feel Steve wipe tears as I scream at him. "Please! Please let me go. Let me leave..."

"I think he's in shock," Two-Bit says, and the rest of them nod. Steve's gaze never breaks mine, but he adresses Darry. "We gotta get him somewhere other than here."

"There's a hospital just an hour away," Two-Bit states. "Been there before when Dally stabbed me with a beer bottle."

Pony moves carefully, allowing Darry to slip in his place. Together, Steve and Darry lift my body, but the world feels so slow that I barely notice. I'm pressed against Darry's chest, being hauled over a hill, and I know Darry's muscles are screaming with my body weight. But his locked jaw and facial expression make me feel like he'll fight to the depths of hell for me, and for that I'm grateful.