Chapter 2 – Because He Had Me Too

Jax was just shy of ten when she was shipped off to New York to take care of her ailing mother. Her parents had split up only a month after their youngest child, Connor was born and her father stayed back in Tulsa with Jessebelle, while Jax, Connor and their mother moved up north to be with Marilyn's folks. Marilyn's father was a doctor but had disowned his daughter when she ran off with the blue collared factory worker when she was just sixteen. They hadn't seen head or tail of their only child in over twenty years.

Jax met Dallas Winston exactly one week after arriving in New York, when her sick mother had sent her to the store for medicine and formula for her newborn brother. With the baby cradled against her tiny body and a paper sack full of what her mother asked for, she was hardly able to look around, much less see the hot-headed nine-year-old plowing towards her. Until he ran smack into her, that was.

"What the fuck man," he growled in a choppy tone that almost made Jax laugh. The boy reminded her so much of her friends back home. Sodapop and Steve were going through that tough phase too.

"Sorry," she managed to squeak out as she shifted Connor so he was protectively secure in her arms. "Mind handin' me that?" She motioned to the pacifier that had slipped from the baby's mouth when the pair had collided. The kid in front of her scoffed but did as he was asked. He even went as far as to wipe it on his tee shirt before handing it back to Jax.

"You steal him?" the boy asked her with wide, icy blue eyes. Jax laughed loudly at that.

"He's my baby brother. My ma's sick and can't hold 'im, so I brought him with me."

"Oh."

"I'm Jax, my gram's makin' supper, would you like some?" she offered politely. She'd never forget the first time Steve Randle was dragged over to the Curtis' house for supper. His mama had just died and she and Soda all but dragged him home with them. Jax didn't realize it at the time, but she sure did spend a lot of time at the Curtis' house. Martha and Darrel always welcomed her with open arms too.

"I…" the boy shifted his weight uncertain. "I'm Dally," he blurted out. A pink blush rose on his pale cheeks. "Dallas. Winston."

"Well golly, Dallas Winston, you look like you ain't had a proper meal in weeks, c'mon, gram always cooks for a pack of wolves, there's plenty to go around," Jax assured him. "My ma won't mind. I'll even tell 'er how you helped me carry my bag," she added with a sly smirk as she passed the bag to Dally so she could hold her brother better. The newborn started to fuss in her arms, his tiny pale face crinkling up as a single tear rolled down his cheek. Connor never really cried. Not like the Curtis' youngest son, Ponyboy, who wailed and wailed when he was born. Jax was silently grateful Martha had taught her a lot when he was a baby. It made mothering Connor a lot easier.

That was the beginning of what ended up being an uncanny, but desperate friendship between the two.

"Jax? Jax, are you waking up, dear?" a woman's voice called through the dark haze that had blanketed Jax, keeping her from feeling, from dealing with the shock of what happened. "Come on Jax, I know you can hear me."

"Grace," Jax breathed out softly, her voice hoarse. She'd know the young nurse's voice anywhere. Grace O'Malley was the nurse who treated her sister right up until the very end. The same nurse that patched her up when she blew out her knee turning barrels at the stables. The same nurse who held her when she walked into the hospital room with Darry at her side only hours after his folks died. The same nurse who prescribed her heavy sleeping pills after Dally was shot dead. Grace O'Malley may have been a nurse, but she was almost a friend to Jax in a world where friends were in short supply.

"Wake up, Jax, I know you're itching for an update on your friends," Grace coaxed. That was all it took to get Jax to open her eyes. She ignored the aching of her head or the way her stomach twisted with a sick wave of nausea.

"Are they…?" Jax could barely get the words out, bile threatening to expel from her stomach at any moment.

"I don't have any word on Darry, but Soda's going to be fine. Concussion and his ankle is pretty messed up, but he'll live," Grace assured her. "You're pretty banged up, but I wanted to give you a chance to feel it out yourself before I let the good ol' doctors admit you." Grace's smile was tight, but she knew the score. Jax didn't have insurance and she was eighteen now which meant she was responsible for her own medical bills. She didn't need any more adding to her already tight budget. Jax stretched her legs out, rolled her neck from one side to the other, ignoring the sheering pain that exploded behind her eyes. She reached up, her hand touching a butterfly bandage over her right eye. She took a deep breath, her sides screaming with protest, but she was a master at hiding injuries. She had to be growing up with a father like hers.

"Get me the against medical advice forms," she said to Grace with a forced smile.

"If you start feeling lousy, there's a clinic not far from here, a lot cheaper than getting treated here," Grace said softly. "I tucked a bag of gauze and alcohol wipes under your bed when the doc wasn't looking. Take 'em with you. I'll be right back with those forms."

"You dig real good," Jax told her as she reached for the sweatshirt that once belonged to Dally. As soon as she had it wrapped around herself, her vision blurred as she was thrown back into a rollercoaster of memories that left her longing for her best friend.

Jessebelle had always been her father's favorite child. The beautiful blonde who brought home straight A's and had the southern belle charm that you only saw in movies. Jessebelle could do no wrong. So when she got sick and her father demanded she come home to take care of her, Jax had no choice but to agree. Jessebelle was six years older than she was, making her the oldest of the misfit group she called family. While she was grateful for an excuse, any excuse, to get back to Tulsa and the boys who were family to her, her heart ached at the thought of leaving Dally behind. She'd been in New York for three years now and they were closer than two peas in a pod. Jax's mother adored Dally like one of her own and he was surprisingly patient with little Connor who was almost always hanging onto his older sister's hip.

"Come with us," Jax declared as she threw the last of her belongings into the garbage bag her grandmother had provided her. Her grandfather had just passed a month prior, her mother was sicker than ever, and Jax knew her grandmother was getting too old to raise two more kids, let alone keep Dally out of trouble too. She'd already spent a small fortune bailing him out of the reformatory a handful of times. "Tulsa's not so bad, besides, your old man said he wanted to move anyway. I'm sure Mr. Curtis could get him a job in the factory or down at the coal mines," Jax rattled on.

"You think so?" Dally asked skeptically. Mr. Winston was a real cruel man. Jax had seen him throw Dally around a time or two and it hurt Jax's heart to witness it and be helpless to stop the abuse.

"Might even make him happier," Jax said with a sly grin. "Besides, Gram said she doesn't have the money to put me and Connor on the train across the country no how, so we'd be hitchin' it anyway."

"Hitchin' it at thirteen, what's she thinkin'?" Dally asked critically. He was protective of Jax. She was the closest thing to family he had.

"Hey, I hitched up here just fine," she reminded him. A year prior she had taken the train down to Tulsa to spend the holidays back home, only for her father to belt her across the face on Christmas evening. She hitched a ride back to New York not an hour later. Thankfully, it wasn't too hard for her to hop a midnight train.

"Wanna go ask my dad?" Dally asked, though the uncertainty was written clear as day on his face.

Jax nodded and after making sure her baby brother was sound asleep in the box at her mother's bedside, she led the way down the long, busy roads of New York City to the small rundown apartment Dally's father lived in.

An hour later, Jax, Dally, Connor and Mr. Winston were waving goodbye to Jax's grandmother and mother. With the little money Jax had managed to score from her grandmother's stash, they had just enough gas to get them back to Tulsa.

A month later, when Jessebelle died, it was Dally and Martha who comforted Jax while she sobbed into their arms, unable to wrap her head around why God would take her big sister from her, even if she did hate her so.

"For Darr-er Darrel Curtis and Sodapop Curtis," Steve's voice traveled across the huge waiting room just as Jax walked through the double doors that led from the triage area.

"Relation?" The receptionist asked coolly.

"Family, we're their family," Jax said breathlessly as she closed the distance between them. "This here is their cousin, their kid brother's over there," she nodded to the pale faced Ponyboy who looked torn between crying and puking his guts out. "I'm their half-sister," she added. She saw Grace pass behind the nurse, a slight smile on her lips.

"Who's next to kin for Darrel?" the receptionist asked, catching Jax off guard. Next of Kin. The last time she heard that was when her mother died. Having divorced her father years ago and after Jessebelle's death, Jax had been her mother's next to kin when she died.

"Uh, that's debatable," Jax squeaked.

"Lizzy, just give them a damn update," Grace came to their rescue. The receptionist sucked her teeth as she glared at the nurse who was impatiently tapping her foot on the ground.

"I'm assuming you're Jacklyn Anderson?" The receptionist asked, eying Jax up and down. Jax nodded her head, one hand steadying herself against the front desk. Jax knew why she asked. On her eighteenth birthday, since Soda still wasn't old enough, Darry appointed her as his health proxy in the event of an emergency. She had done the same – he was hers since Dally was dead.

"Okay. We're waiting for an update on Darrel, he's in surgery right now, but Sodapop…is that really that boys real name...Sodapop is in room 408 in the pediatric ward. His doctor is waiting for his test results to come back, but from what the nurse wrote down he's got a broken ankle and a concussion. The doctor will be able to tell you more. If you'd like, you are welcomed to head up there and see him," she said, her tone shifting now that she realized they weren't lying about being family.

"I'll take them, I'm headed up that way anyway," Grace said with a thin smile. She glanced behind Jax and motioned for Ponyboy to get up and follow. Jax threw a helpless look over her shoulder as she followed Grace down the hall, not waiting for Steve to gather up Ponyboy.

"He'll be okay you know," Grace said gently when she sensed Jax hesitate outside of Soda's door. "He's probably had worse at a rumble." Grace wasn't a Soc. She grew up on the wrong side of town but she got out. She wasn't much older than Jessebelle would have been.

"I'm not worried about Soda," Jax said gently, watching as Steve pushed Ponyboy into the room. The poor kid looked like a walking ghost. "Is there…can you find out about my dad?" Jax looked at Grace with sad eyes. While her father was the cause of this whole mess, she needed to know.

"They…they didn't tell you yet?" Grace hesitated.

"Tell me what?"

"I'll go find your father's doctor. I'll send him up here. He'll be able to tell you more," Grace said gently. Grace never hid news from Jax. They had an understanding. Jax needed the facts thrown at her. She'd always been that way.

"No, I get that there was a complication," Jax growled, Dally's hand firmly planted on her shoulder, holding her back from lunging at the doctor. "What I don't understand is what the damn complication was! She was getting better! She was talking again!"

"Jacklyn, I understand you're upset, I am so very sorry for your loss," the young doctor said gently. "We did everything we could for your mother. Her heart just wasn't strong enough."

"Don't you dare dumb it down like I'm some idiot off the damn street! Give it to me straight! What. Went. Wrong?" Jax was shouting now, her heart racing in her chest.

"Ice it, Jax," Dally warned. He had never seen his best friend…his sister really, this upset before. He glanced at Martha Curtis, afraid the older woman would scold Jax for her outburst. Instead, she gave Dally the slightest of nods.

"No, I'm tired of people pussyfooting around me like I'm some goddamn child! Clearly my ol' man couldn't be bothered to come here! I've been down this fucking road one too many times! I want to know why my mother died!" Jax had angry tears rolling down her cheeks. Darry slowly came up next to her, hesitantly placing a stern hand on her shoulder. Dally and Darry shared a concerned look. They knew Jax too well. She didn't handle losing Jessebelle well at all, but she hated her sister. Her mother was all she had left. Even if her mother had been sick for the better part of nine years.

"You're aware that your mother had a very advanced stage lung cancer," the doctor finally said, his words slow, guarded. "And while your mother did show great progress with this latest round of chemotherapy, we have reason to believe that she caught an infection, probably from being transferred here so quickly," he went on. Jax tensed. Her mother had to be transferred to Tulsa because her grandmother died. There was no one left in New York to take care of her and Jax had been too stubborn to leave her friends…her brothers behind again.

"It's my fault," Jax blinked owlishly. "It's my fault."

"No, no honey, that's not what he's saying," Martha soothed.

"No, that's exactly what he's saying," Jax tensed up. "Can I see her?"

"Of course," the doctor nodded, relief washing over his face just as much as surprise. Jax went from wolfishly angry to stoically calm in the matter of seconds. "I'll let you say your goodbyes."

"Do you want us to come with you, honey?" Martha asked softly, giving Jax a reassuring smile.

"No," she shook her head. "I have to do this alone."

At just shy of seventeen, Jax never imagined burying her own mother. She sank to her knees next to her mother's pale, unmoving body, her hands twisting into hers, a single hot tear rolling down her cheek.

"I'm so, so sorry Ma," she said softly, her voice steady despite the trembling of her hand. "I'll take care of Connor, we all will, don't you worry," she promised. Her voice hitched as she glanced back towards the hallway. "I'll keep Dally out of trouble too. I know how much you love him. Deep down under all that anger you see what I see in him. He's a scared kid just trying to find his place in the world. I'll look out for him too. I love you Ma. I'm so, so sorry."

After a few painfully long breaths, Jax untangled her hands from her mothers, kissed her icy cold forehead and left the room, brushing past the three pairs of troubled eyes that watched her like a hawk. Darry wanted to be able to comfort her but didn't know how. Martha knew it was better to let her go, let her process it on her own. But Dally? Dally didn't wait around. He followed after her like a puppy dog, refusing to let her out of his sight.

Little did any of them know that only two weeks later, they'd be right back in the same boat, but this time, they were losing the best parents any of them knew.

"Jacklyn?" An older doctor called out, startling Jax from her memories. She was standing by the wall, letting Steve and Ponyboy talk to Soda, while she stood silently, in constant watch.

"Jax," she corrected out of habit.

"I'm Dr. Maddison, if you have a moment, I'd like to talk to you in the hallway about your father," he said softly. Steve had looked up having heard the doctor enter the room. Soda and Ponyboy stopped talking. All eyes were on the doctor now.

"I'm not leaving," she said softly. "Whatever you have to say, you can say right here."

"Jacklyn…Jax, your father presented with severe head trauma and internal bleeding," the doctor said gently. "His toxicology report came back positive for alcohol and methamphetamines, which we suspect is what caused him to crash his car. We rushed him into surgery upon arrival-," Jax waved him silent, her mind reeling.

"I'm sorry, did you say methamphetamines?" She choked out. She knew her father was a raging alcoholic, but drugs? She knew nothing about drugs.

"Yes ma'am," the doctor replied, his eyes watching Jax cautiously. Jax blinked owlishly, her heart racing too fast. She felt slick sweat beading on her forehead. It's all my fault, she thought bitterly.

The doctor kept talking, but Jax couldn't hear him anymore. She couldn't drown out the static that seemed to fill her mind. She registered his lips moving, but she couldn't piece together what he was saying any longer.

Steve watched as Jax's face went a sickly sheet white color. He'd only ever seen Jax look that way once before and it was when news reached her that Dally was dead. She had collapsed moments later. Steve looked at Soda who gave a slight nod before pushing his chair back and quickly coming to the girl's side, his eyes locking on the doctor as he rattled off medical terms that held no meaning to him. He gently reached for Jax, who's hands were ice cold, her entire body seeming to tremble.

"We did everything we could, but your father didn't make it. He suffered a major hemorrhage on the operating table and his heart stopped. We tried to revive him for fifteen minutes, but there was no hope for survival," the doctor finished.

Steve only understood one part of what was said.

"He's dead," it wasn't a question.

"I'm sorry, yes," the doctor bowed his head.

Steve turned to Jax, who looked like she was going to be sick at any moment.

"Jax, come sit down," he said gently, like he was talking to a wounded animal. Jax didn't so much as blink. Steve threw a helpless look at Soda. This was Soda's forte. He was good at comforting people. Steve wasn't.

"Jax? Honey, come sit with us," Soda said called gently. Again, it fell on deaf ears.

"I'll…I'll give you a few moments to process all this, is there anyone we can call to help sort out the arrangements?" The doctor asked carefully. Jax blinked slowly, her breathing ragged as she shook her head.

"No," she breathed out weakly. "T-thank you," she leaned into Steve, who had his arm around her now. Steve felt the trembles rolling off her. It was only then that he saw the cut across her forehead. How vacant her eyes were. How deathly pale she was.

"Jax, sit down," he instructed, this time with a little more force as the doctor left the room. Jax swayed, her breathing coming in panicked gasps. Steve started to panic, not sure what to do or how to help.

"Lead her over to the wall, Steve," Soda instructed his best friend. Even though Soda himself was stuck in a hospital bed attached to various IVs, his concern was one of his closest friends. "Before she collapses."

Steve gently guided Jax to the wall, just as her knees gave way. He sank to the floor with her, cradling her close to his body as she trembled, eyes wide, breathing coming in short, raspy gasps.

"Pone, go find that nurse," Steve instructed when he felt Jax's body begin to tremble worse than before. "Hurry."

Ponyboy sensed the urgency in Steve's tone and after sparing a glance at Soda, he rushed from the room, on a mission to find Grace.

Steve was standing in the doorway of the dinner as Tim slowly approached Jax. She had been working that night, instead of sitting home waiting for the boys to get back from the rumble like she normally was. Something about wanting to help Darry surprise Soda for his birthday. Tim hesitantly walked over to the table Jax was waiting and softly told her he needed to talk to her, that it was urgent.

She followed him outside, wiping her hands on her apron, but not before nodding to Janie, one of the only other waitresses working that night.

"I'll only be a minute," she assured her coworker who told her to take her time.

Steve followed Tim and Jax, guarded, ready for Jax to lash out. Even though his ribs hurt like no one's business, Soda had all but begged Steve to go with Tim. Because unlike Tim, Steve would bring Jax back to their house where she would be safe to lash out or break down. So Steve did as he was asked.

"Jax, I-," Tim's voice hitched. Instead of telling her, he pulled out Dally's prized ring. Jax looked at it, confused, before realization dawned on her.

"The rumble?" she squeaked out.

"No," Tim said softly. "Dally…Dal went and got himself…"

"Dally's dead," she breathed out, her face going sickly pale, her sapphire blue eyes glazing over. She reached for the ring before her knees gave way. Steve rushed forward, a pained yelp ripping from his lips. The rest of that night was a painful, tragic blur.

"Jax, Jax, baby, you gotta breathe, you gotta breathe," Steve begged as he pressed Jax's head between her knees. "Soda? Soda I don't know what to do!" Steve's panicked voice came out more of a sob. "Jax, you gotta breathe!"

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as her body began to spasm in Steve's arms. Steve cried out, afraid he was about to lose her too.

"You can't die on me now," Steve begged. "C'mon, we can't lose you, Jax, breathe!"

As quickly as the spasms started, they stopped. Just as Grace ran into the room with Ponyboy on her heels.

"Code blue in room 408!" Grace screamed over her shoulder as she knelt next to the young girl. She searched for a pulse, but found none. "Damnit, Jax, you can't give up now!" She growled as she began chest compression, screaming for a code to be called as loudly as she could.

The rush of doctors that stormed the room was overwhelming. Steve and Ponyboy were forced to the hallway while Soda was forced to witness the scene unfold in front of him. If he wasn't traumatized from the accident before, he sure as hell was now.

"No pulse!" A doctor shouted. "Get me 1 milligram of epinephrine stat!"

"Restarting chest compressions," another voice bellowed.

"You have to save her," Grace cried out. "She's all they've got left. You have to save her Andrew, you have to!"

"Get her out of here," a man barked. A moment later the door was slamming in Grace's face as she was forced to join Ponyboy and Steve in the hall. Both boys looked torn between crying and punching a wall.

"Dr. Carlson is the best cardiologist we have. He'll save her, he has to," Grace said gently.

The silence that filled the hallway was deafening. With baited breaths, the trio waited for any sign of hope.

Each passing second felt like a lifetime. Steve wanted to cry but he wouldn't. Not in front of anyone else. Ponyboy was clinging to Steve for dear life, tears streaming down his face, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. Grace looked on with concern and disgust, silently cursing herself for allowing her long time patient and friend check out against medical advice. She should have known better. If Jacklyn Anderson died, it was on her. She'd never forgive herself.

"That fateful night the car stalled upon the railroad track,
I pulled you out and we were safe, but you went running back…

What was it you were looking for that took your life that night?
They said they found my high school ring clutched in your fingers tight…"

AN: This chapter was exceptionally long to avoid drawing out the angst for too long. There will be plenty of time for that later. The quote is partial lyrics based on the song "Teen Angel" by Mark Dinning.

Thank you for so the feedback and reviews! They are always appreciated! This is my first time exploring multiple points of view and I'm still trying to get the hang of it! Let me know what you think!