When She's Gone – Chapter 2
Patrick was more like us, a bit less like Willow. He carried a blade, and was in rumbles, and he got into the occasional bit of trouble.
When he died it was a blow to us all. We had just begun to heal from the deaths of Johnny and Dally. Willow was over our house watching TV the day we got the news…
"Pony, pass the popcorn." Two-Bit yelled, spilling beer on his shirt as he reached for the bowl.
"Shit Two-Bit, don't spill beer on the couch, Darry'll skin me." Pony said.
"Aw, you know it'll be fine, he's too afraid he'll break you now." Steve said, sounding bitter as usual.
"Poor Steve." Willow said, coming over and flopping down in his lap and planting a kiss on his cheek. "How can we make you happier?"
Steve stood up, letting Willow slid to the floor. "I'm getting another beer." He grumbled heading out to the kitchen.
"Last thing you need." Willow said under her breath. As she hauled herself up off the floor the door opened and Darry walked in, looking twice as tired and grave as he usually did.
"What's wrong?" I asked, getting up off the floor and crossing to meet him. He moved slowly past me, never taking his eyes off Willow as he walked. When he reached her he put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye.
"Willow hunny…" Darry's voice cracked a bit as he spoke. "Pat…got in some trouble last night…" Willow interrupted him.
"What jail is he in? How much is bail?" She said all in one breath, tears already beginning to fall.
"No hunny...they knifed him last night; they found him at the lake this afternoon.
Willow crumpled to the ground, her little body racked with silent sobs, Darry, not being so good with feelings quietly went into the kitchen to start dinner.
Everyone sat and stared at her for a moment, last time anyone had seen her cry had been when she was seven and someone had hit a dog in the street. Some neighborhood kids had been kicking it and throwing stones as it lay in the street. Willow had screamed at them, chased them away. She sat in the middle of the street petting the dog with tears slowly rolling down her face. Of course the dog had died but Willow felt she had made its last moments better. She hadn't even cried when she was 12 and was playing on the roof with Pony, she slipped and fell, breaking her arm. She didn't cry when Pat and I carried and jostled her all the way to the hospital.
Even when Johnny and Dally died, she cried all of 5 minutes that I saw, right after Dally was shot. She rallied quickly for the rest of us, cooking dinners which we didn't eat, always ready with a hug or a kiss, willing to curl up on the couch with you while you grieved. Darry may have the one who was strong, but Willow always was the one who was truly strong, especially when we needed her.
I got up, tears welling in my own eyes; it was our turn to be strong for her. I sat down on the floor and pulled her into my lap. I held her for a long time, stroking her hair and kissing her on the forehead as she cried.
Finally, her sobs were reduced to sniffles. By this time everyone had crept away. Slowly, I pulled back from her and lifted her face so I could see her eyes. "It's going to be ok baby." I said quietly
"No, no it won't." She answered quietly, giving me a weak smile before wrapping me in a hug. I had no idea, that in the long run, she was right.
A/N – Ok, here's another chapter…not sure it came out eh way I wanted it to. I promise willow won't be to perfect, no one should be. I'm just trying to make a contrast between her and your typical greaser. Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews on this and my other stories…I'll be trying to get a chapter up for Home by the end of the weekend!