Chapter Nineteen:


I've never liked hospitals much.

I don't know what it is, but there's just something about them that gives me the creeps. Darry says that hospitals are places where people go to get well, but I know better. Hospitals are places where people go to die. Don't believe me? Just look at my Mom and Dad, at Johnny...

Hospitals do not sit well with me at all.

Even less when it's my baby brother laying in some emergency room, surrounded by doctors, and they won't tell us what's going on.

Glancing around the lobby at the others, I sighed to myself. Darry was hunched over in his chair, hands clasped in front of him, staring at the door to Ponyboy's room as if he could will the doctors to come out and tell us something. For once Soda was sitting still, his gaze lowered to the floor as he sat sprawled in his chair like a lazy cat.

Two-Bit was flipping through a magazine, but he didn't really seem to be reading it, just trying to keep himself busy so he didn't have to think about anything. Steve was stretched out across three chairs, resting with his eyes closed, but his expression was too pained to be called peaceful.

Since we were at the hospital already, Two-Bit had gone ahead and let one of the nurses stitch up his hand and the side of his face. His knuckles were taped up again now, to keep the stitches secure, and a few strips of medical tape covered the row of stitches on his cheek.

The nurse had given Steve some strong painkillers after examining his ribs, with extra to take home with him to help numb the pain. He was told to take it easy and rest as much as possible, but knowing Steve I figured he'd be up on his feet again within a few days, his typical show of defiance.

"I'm gonna get somethin' to drink," I said, pushing to my feet. "Ya'll want anythin'?"

"Some coffee would be good," Darry sighed, running a hand through his hair, finally tearing his gaze away from the door to Ponyboy's room to offer me a weak smile.

"Get me a Pepsi, will ya?" Two-Bit asked, yawning a little as he shifted around in his chair.

"Me, too," Soda murmured, sparing me a fleeting glance before looking back down at his shoes again.

"Yeah," I said, nodding as I started across the lobby. "Sure."

I rounded the corner and made my way to the vending area down the hall. Fishing some change out of my pocket, I got three Pepsis, then moved over to the coffee pot, setting the sodas down so I could fix Darry a cup of coffee. When I was done, I frowned, trying to figure out how to carry all of the drinks back without spilling anything.

"Here," a voice said from behind me, and I turned to see that Steve had followed me out of the lobby. "I got it."

"Thanks," I said, smiling faintly as he reached over my shoulder and picked up the other sodas. "I appreciate it."

"No problem," Steve replied, flashing me a small smile. His dark gaze raked me over appraisingly, a tinge of concern showing on his handsome feature. "How are ya holdin' up?"

"Okay, I guess," I said softly, shrugging my shoulders. "It's... it's a lot to take in at once, ya know?"

"Yeah," he murmured. "I know."

We stood in silence for a moment as I stirred Darry's coffee a little, trying to cool it down some. When I looked up again, Steve was watching me. "What?"

"You were pretty out of it back there at the lot," he observed quietly.

"Yeah," I agreed softly, trying not to remember how still and pale Dally had been. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be," he shook his head. "You don't have to be strong all the time, ya know, Lizzie."

"Yes," I replied firmly. "I do. My family is comin' apart at the seams, Steve, has been for a while now. Darry's workin' two jobs to support us and it's nearly killin' him. Pony's sick, and then there's that whole mess with the juvie courts and he's missed so much school already they might not let him make it up." I bit my lip, then admitted quietly, "I don't know what to do."

"Well, for starters ya could let us help you," Steve pointed out with a faint smirk. "Ya don't have to handle everythin' on your own, ya know."

"I know," I muttered, my chest aching. "It's just..."

"Just what?"

"Everyone keeps goin' away," I rasped, my eyes stinging with tears. "And I can't stop it."

"Hey," Steve said softly, touching his hand to my cheek tenderly. "Hey, look at me, Lizzie."

I lifted my watery gaze to his face, and realized that there were tears in his eyes, too. He was blinking them back, trying to will them away, but it wasn't working.

"I won't go anywhere," he promised seriously. "Not unless ya tell me to. Okay?"

"Promise?" I asked hoarsely.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I promise."

And then he kissed me, soft and short, but it was enough to reassure me and calm my shaking nerves. If Steve said it would be okay, then somehow it would be.

"We better get back to the others," I murmured. "See if they've gotten any word on Ponyboy."

"Yeah," Steve agreed, smirking a little. "Besides, any longer and Soda might notice that we're both missin' and jump to conclusions."

I chuckled softly as we made our way back towards the lobby where the others were waiting. As we drew near the room, Steve began to pull his hand away from mine, but I squeezed my fingers tighter, refusing to let go. He glanced at me in surprise, but then smiled, understanding that I didn't care what the others thought right then.

When we got back to the lobby, Darry was talking to a doctor in a white coat, with Soda and Two-Bit listening closely, but as soon as we entered the room, they looked in our direction. I saw Soda's eyes flicker to mine and Steve's intertwined hands, but his expression was unreadable.

Darry finished up talking to the doctor, who walked off down the hall, and dropped down into his chair wearily.

"What's goin' on?" I asked worriedly as we hurried over.

"He's got a nasty concussion," Darry explained, looking older and more exhausted than I could ever recall seeing him. "It happened in the rumble, some Soc kicked him in the head real good."

"Soda here wiped the floor with the guy who did it," Two-Bit added with a proud, but tired grin, patting Soda on the shoulder affectionately.

"Ponyboy's got a pretty high fever, too," Darry continued, ignoring the interruption. "He's been in and out of consciousness for the past hour, mutterin' deliriously. The doctors gave him some medicine to help, but they want to keep him here overnight for observation."

"Observation?" I echoed.

"It's just a precaution, princess," Darry assured me, glancing at Soda, as well. "He'll be fine, they just want to keep an eye on him for a bit, understand?"

We both nodded silently.

"Good," Darry sighed. "I'm gonna stay here the night, but I want the rest of you to head on home and get some rest, ya hear? You can take the truck and come back in the mornin' and pick us up."

"But-" Soda began, but Darry cut him off with a level glare. "Yeah, alright."

"Here are the keys," Darry said, handing them over to Soda. "Drive slow, will ya, little buddy?"

"Sure," he answered dully.

Darry squeezed his shoulder, and I moved forward to give Darry a kiss on the cheek. "Try and get a good night's sleep, okay?" I suggested softly.

"You, too, princess."

The drive home seemed to take forever, and there was a dark silence in the cab of the truck. No one spoke, each wrapped up in their own thoughts, reliving the moment that Dallas crumpled under the streetlight, worrying about Ponyboy's health, grieving for poor Johnny.

As we were turning onto our street, Soda suddenly broke the silence by asking, "Ya'll wanna stay the night with us?"

"I think I'm gonna head back to my house," Two-Bit replied, shifting in his seat. "My old lady's got work in the mornin', so I ought to be there to keep an eye on the bratty kid sister."

Despite everything, I smiled a little at that. Two-Bit may have kept up a tough front, but it was obvious that after everything we'd been through today, he just wanted to go home and be with his family.

"How 'bout you, Stevie?" Soda asked.

"Sure," Steve grunted. "Beats stayin' at home."

It was sad, but true. Steve's house wasn't the kind of place you wanted to spend time at. His father didn't beat him or nothing the way Johnny's did, but the house was always so empty, even when his father was home. It had been that way for as long as I could remember, Steve's father just plain ignored him most of the time, and when he did pay him attention it was to holler at him for every little thing imaginable.

I remember one time when Steve and Soda were about ten, Steve came running to our house in tears because his father had lost his job and blamed it on him. On a ten year old little boy! Mom had made cookies to cheer the boys up, and then sent them outside to play in the yard. She'd stood in the doorway watching them for a long moment, then gave a sad shake of her head and disappeared into the kitchen to do the dishes.

I guess I remember that day so well because it was the first time that I really understood just how hard things were for Steve at home, and it was the first day I saw just how much Mom's heart broke for him because of it.

Soda pulled the truck into the driveway, and we all piled out wearily. Two-Bit gave us a farewell wave as he started off down the street, and the three of us climbed the steps to the porch and went inside the house.

"I'll get ya a blanket and some pillows," Soda told Steve, heading down the hall towards the closet.

"Thanks," Steve replied, dropping down onto the couch with a sigh. He looked up at me with a tired smile, gently easing himself back so his ribs wouldn't be jarred.

"How's that painkiller stuff workin'?" I asked.

"Better than nothin'," he grunted in reply.

"I'm just glad that you're okay," I said quietly. And I was, more than I could say. Johnny and Dallas were both dead, gone forever, and Pony was sick... I don't know what I would have done if the boys had gotten hurt real bad during the rumble.

Steve gave me a curious look, and then asked hesitantly, "You ain't still mad about me backin' Darry's decision to keep ya out of the rumble, are ya?"

"No," I said, shaking my head, and left it at that. I was still a little annoyed that the others thought I needed protecting just because I was a girl, but I wasn't mad. So much had gone so wrong in the past few hours that the rest of it just seemed so unimportant now. "It doesn't matter anymore... it doesn't matter."

It didn't matter because Ponyboy was sick.

It didn't matter because Dally and Johnny...

"Hey," Steve said softly, reaching out a hand to gently brush the tears from my cheek. "It's gonna be alright, Elizabeth, I promise."

"How?" I rasped, my lip quivering. "How is it gonna be alright, Steve? Dallas and Johnny are dead! And Ponyboy..."

"Pony will be fine," he assured me. "He's a tough kid, the toughest. He'll pull through and be good as new in no time, just watch. And... and Johnny and Dally, well, ya gotta figure that maybe things are better for them now, wherever they are."

"Ya think so?" I whispered.

"Not like they could get any worse, huh?" he retorted quietly.

"Yeah," I murmured, and dropped down onto the couch beside him with a sigh. I rubbed my forehead wearily, the headache that had been creeping into my mind over the past few hours starting to get the best of me.

"Headache?" Steve asked.

"Just a little one," I replied. "I'll take some aspirin in a bit."

"I could use some myself," he groaned, touching one hand to his side.

I rolled my eyes. "Ya already have painkillers, the last thing ya need is more."

"And just what is it that I do need then?"

I glanced over at Steve and found he was looking at me with a playful expression. "Truthfully?" I smirked. "A good kick in the-"

"Thanks a lot," he grunted. "I'm an injured man here."

"Poor baby," I chuckled, leaning over to kiss him lightly on the lips. "How's that?"

"A little better," he conceded. "But I think I need a higher dosage, doctor."

"Oh, really?" I smiled, leaning towards him. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," he murmured, our lips brushing. "That's so."

Someone cleared their throat behind us, and I jumped back, startled, looking up to see Soda standing in the doorway with a pile of blankets and pillows in his arms. "Here," he grunted, tossing them onto the couch. "Hope these'll do."

"They're fine, thanks," Steve replied.

There was a long moment of silence, both of them looking anywhere expect at one another. Sighing, I pushed to my feet. "Well, I'm goin' to bed." Before they could reply, I leaned over and kissed Steve quick on the lips, then turned to Soda, rising up on my toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "See ya both in the mornin'."

"Night," Steve murmured.

"Sleep well, Lizzie," Soda called.

I slipped off down the hall, but once I rounded the corner I paused, pressing my back against the wall and listening for a moment.

"It's a nice night out," I heard Soda mutter.

"Yeah," Steve agreed.

"Ya wanna step outside for a bit?" Soda asked hesitantly. "Maybe talk?"

"Sure," Steve replied. "I'd like that."

I listened as their footsteps moved across the living room and out onto the front porch, the door banging softly behind them, and smiled. "Looks like they're goin' to work things out civilly after all."

That or Soda was taking it outside so that I wouldn't hear them fighting.

Either way, I was getting a good night's sleep if it killed me.