Thank you for the reviews! To the guest reviewer who asked about Pony's illness...I can't give you an answer unless you make an account and send me a PM. Happy to chat. That goes for anyone who wants to drop me a message to talk story.

Enjoy!

XX

Darry had a brief moment of panic, but then Pony moaned. Oh thank god, Darry said to himself.

"Pony?" he said out loud, "I'm going out - I want to see if I can find help. Or maybe a phone. We can't stay in the car anymore," he said matter-of-factly.

Pony moaned again and started to move around. "You hear me, Pone?" Darry asked.

Pony sat up, still half asleep, but as if he was about to get up and go.

"Where are we going?"he asked quietly, not even sure he heard Darry right.

Darry sighed. "You're not going anywhere, kiddo," he said, pushing him gently back down. "I'm going to go look for help so we can find somewhere warmer or get home. You're going to stay here. There's no way you can go out in your condition. I want you to stay here and rest."

"M'fine, Darry," Pony said, "I wanna go," he mumbled. Darry felt like rolling his eyes.

"You're not fine," he replied, "I want you to go back to sleep." He put his hand through Pony's hair and it was almost too easy. Pony closed his eyes and immediately fell into a restless slumber.

"I'll be back soon," Darry said softly, although by then Pony hadn't heard him. He had laid down, face on his hand, his body twisted. He seemed alright. So Darry took that as his cue that it was ok to leave - but not before covering his baby brother with the ski jacket that had been laying in a heap on the floor.

He slid out from the driver's side of the truck, his legs already knee deep in some very thick snow drifts that had piled up. As he tried to keep from keeling over into the snow, the wind immediately slapped at his face, basically telling him to take a good hard look at himself and think about what he was doing. He didn't listen, though, and he pulled his scarf tight around his own mouth.

And here I am bothering Pony about not using his head, Darry told himself with a chuckle. Then he sighed, took a deep breath, and trudged forward.

The snow was quickly sticking to his clothes, making him worry that he would soon be as white as the trees and the telephone poles and nobody would be able to find him. Fortunately, he didn't need to worry about a car mistaking him for the snow as there was not a single car in sight. No car engines rumbling in the distance - the only sound in the air was the wind shrieking down the street.

As Darry continued to plod through the bulk, he turned around and looked back at the truck. While there was no chance he could see Pony through the front window by now - it was covered in snow and ice - he had to make sure he knew which direction he was going - so that he would be able to find his way back.

The weather conditions were treacherous, but the snow glistened in the distance, and if the wind hadn't been so fierce - and he didn't have Pony on his mind - he might have actually enjoyed this little moment by himself with his thoughts. But the snow stung against his cheeks and he was immediately transported back to reality.

He felt guilty. So guilty that it was starting to gnaw at him. He felt the familiar weight on his chest. The way his mouth formed that tight line as his jaw clamped down. His brothers didn't know this about him - he kept it so well hidden - but he had felt this many times before. He knew this feeling all too well, from all the times he had experienced it in the past year since their parents and friends had died.

He blamed himself, of course. How could he not? It had been a mistake to go to the doctor - even though Ron had been very nice. Why did Darry always do this kind of thing? Thinking he knew what he was doing. Playing the concerned parent part - always making things worse when he was really just trying to make them better. Thinking that Pony HAD to see the doctor and that the weather would be accommodating. He should have listened to Soda when he had said that snow was coming. But Darry didn't listen to anyone - he always knew best. And perhaps this was the biggest problem of all.

What would his parents have done?

If his mom had still been around, Pony wouldn't have even needed a doctor, Darry thought earnestly, and even a bit naively. Dr. Mom would have made everything better on her own.

But Darry was doing the best he could and so he swallowed his feelings and shoved them down. Then he looked around again, realizing he had been so busy "thinking" that he hadn't even been searching for possible , there were houses around. They looked like your quintessential middle class homes - inexpensive tract houses built to look like each other and like your typical suburban home, with open floor plans and nicely sized backyards. They were certainly much nicer than then the Curtis house on 731 N St. Louis Ave, weathered and collapsing on itself.

Darry thought they looked rather uninviting. The windows were dark, the roofs were covered in thick, white mounds and Darry wondered if he should just bite the bullet and knock on one of the doors. How would the person who opened react to him? He didn't look very Greas-y, all covered up against the cold, and he certainly had the manners of a well-educated Soc. But he figured the people who lived in this neighborhood didn't take too kindly to strangers.

He realized then that he was engaging in way too much thinking and not enough doing. He noticed the snow sat heavily on the power lines and he thought for sure that the power was going to go out in town, maybe even in their neighborhood. If he was going to call Soda, he had to do it fast. And then, as he was working up the courage to ring the doorbell of that craftsman-style house in the distance - with its low, broad proportions - it appeared as if out of a movie.

The wind blew cascading snow in opposite directions towards the sidewalk to reveal...a shiny, black rotary dial payphone. It hung against the frosted glass like a towel on a hanger, but of course it wasn't quite as enticing. Darry dug out his change from his pockets and picked up the receiver. He was about to put his coin into the 5 cent slot when suddenly he realized - there was no dial tone.

XX

The door to the old church shot up in flames. Ponyboy watched it from where he stood on the hill. Then, in the next moment, he was inside the church, watching as the flaming beams collapsed around him, hearing the crackling of the wood as it split apart. How did he get there? Where was Johnny? Hadn't he come in to rescue the kids too? All he could think was that he had to save those kids.

There were no kids to be found, though, only massive pieces of falling wood. Pony shielded his eyes from the blue and orange inferno, but he felt it burning his cheeks, as if it could sear his face off at any moment. He ran to the window to see if Dally could get him out. The glass was fogged up with frost, which was really odd, but as the flames danced around him, he rubbed at the glass to see what was outside.

He came face to face with Soda. Soda was yelling and pointing at something far away. Pony wasn't a lip reader, but he knew Sodapop was screaming at him to get out. He couldn't hear him, though, just garbled mumbling through the plexiglass, like someone had placed an invisible quilted blanket between them.

Suddenly Soda disappeared, as if out of thin air, and Darry was there, his hands in his pockets, a look of pain in his eyes. He wasn't yelling - he was just standing there upset.

"Darry!" Pony called as the window glass started to crack. And then suddenly he fell backwards, shielding himself with his arm as there was a loud explosion from somewhere around him and Darry's form shot up in flames. He didn't know how it happened, Darry was outside and he was the one inside the church. Darry was over 6 feet and the flames just towered over him. He didn't fall, he didn't brush them off, he stood there, letting them take over.

"Noooooooooooo!" Pony screamed, trying to get to him, but he was thrown backwards and suddenly he felt like he was suffocating. Like that giant quilted blanket was overwhelming him…

"No!"

Ponyboy awoke with a start, his breathing heavy and ragged. Tears dripped from his eyes. Before even realizing where he was, he was immediately aware of the throbbing in his head, like someone was hitting his crown with a giant mallet. Then there were the sharp neck and back pains. They traveled up down the length of his spine and it probably didn't help that he was lying curled in an awkward position and something thick and heavy was pressed down on him like one of the heavy quilts his mother used to keep. He didn't know how it was possible but he was feeling cold and hot all at once. Under the quilted coat, his body shivered, but his cheeks burned like someone had set hot stones on them.

"Darry?" he called out looking around. The flames had disappeared, replaced by a deepening cold. Where was Darry? Hadn't he been in the truck with Darry?

It took him a second to figure out that he had been dozing along the length of the truck seat. Soon after, he shot his head up and looked at the world around him, covered in gray and pure white.

He was so confused that it took him a moment to gather his bearings. That, and he felt a lot worse than he had felt even a half hour ago. At that moment he began to realize two very important things. One, his older brother Darry was nowhere to be found and two, he had an uncontrollable urge to vomit his brains out.

He had to get out of the car and fast. Somehow - he didn't know exactly how, he wasn't thinking straight - he grabbed the aviator hat that Darry had brought for him - but not the ski jacket - and pushed open the door, the gust of wind attacking his cheeks. He didn't even put the hat on his head, just gripped it with tired, achy fingers. The cold air was almost comforting, if it didn't feel so biting.

But he wasn't thinking about any of that. In fact, Ponyboy was panicking, because he knew he had to get rid of the contents of his stomach and fast, if there was anything left. Something was violently churning down there and it wasn't going to be pretty.

Before he could hesitate, he pushed the passenger door open wide and leaped out of the car. It was more like a fall from grace - he landed on the side of his head, making his head pound harder, and he could actually feel the snow seeping into his ear. No matter, he keeled over, landing on his knees, placing his uncovered hands palms first into the snow drift, which was quite deeper than he had expected. Feeling the prick of tears behind his eyes, he began to unleash whatever it was inside his body that had nauseated him.

It wasn't pretty - and it wasn't much. Pony hadn't eaten for hours and so there was not much to give up - his vomit mostly consisted of loud gags, dry heaving and some putrid clear liquid which was obviously the bile. He couldn't hide being sick. He wished Soda was there...or even Darry. Where was he? he asked himself before the urge to gag became even stronger and he retched a second time. Tears were streaming down his face and something, some kind of heat, it wasn't quite sweat because his skin was hot and dry, matted his hair to his forehead. Curling his arms around his stomach, he shook as he continued to throw up, almost nothing at all, but he had to admit it was making him feel better.

After throwing up for a third time, he pushed himself away from his own vomit, which was already being covered by mounds of snow. His hands felt ice cold, but he barely noticed it. In fact, he invited the cold and even went as far as to lay his cheek against the snow. It helped his burning cheeks. After a few more ragged breaths (and realizing he wasn't going to throw up anymore) he even put some of the snow to his lips and chewed on it - the icy liquid cooling his insides.

He looked around at his predicament and he almost wanted to laugh at the craziness of it all. Jumping out of the truck, feasting on snow, dizzy, and his brain was still on fire.

And where the fuck was Darry?

There was no laugh, only a moan that sounded more like a sob he was choking on. The reasonable thing to do at this point would be to get back in the truck. But he didn't have the strength to climb back up. He could just stand there and wait for Darry to come back

(He would come back right? He wouldn't have left him to suffer? Right? Pony pushed the thought out of his mind.)

He didn't know exactly what made the thought cross his mind, but he didn't have the patience to wait for Darry. He decided he would start walking and see if he could find him.

That wasn't the best idea, but Pony wasn't exactly thinking straight. He could almost feel Darry telling him to stay in the car, but Darry wasn't here, was he? And what if he all but froze to death?

Well, if Darry wasn't here, he would have to go and find him. He couldn't remember the last time he had walked in the snow, but it wasn't easy. Especially not in this...blizzard...isn't that what Soda had said the news had called it? He trudged towards the back of the truck, his feet leaving deep prints into the heavily fallen snow. By this point his feet (and ankles )were soaked but it better registered in his system.

He stopped at the bed of the truck and leaned into it, trying to steady himself, but his head would not stop spinning and waves of both dizziness and nausea were starting to make things blurry.

The air was cool and crisp. On the one hand, Pony wanted to thank his lucky stars - the cold was keeping him awake - but the iciness in the air also gave him the chills and made his bones ache in a way he had never felt before. It didn't help that even though he was wearing a sweater and a jacket, he was still shivering underneath it all.

After he had steadied himself at the truck, he just kept walking forever, making himself push one foot in front of the other. There were times that he fell and he used the snow to crawl and push himself up. Other times, he pitched forward, and either balanced himself upright or used the fall to rest for a minute before he got up again. Somehow he just kept going.

He looked behind him and the truck kept looking further and further away, but he couldn't have gone too far...it was hard enough to walk in the mix of hard white rocks and slush and he kept stumbling. The snow weighed down heavily on his feet, making it even harder to walk and he had to struggle to move one leg in front of the other - it was slowing going, but he did it.

And then as the wind whistled in the trees, and he could no longer see the truck behind him - Pony's stomach gave another violent start and his head began to swim, the snow around him turning into floating white clouds. He was weak and dizzy and exhausted, and he knew he was going to pass out, but Darry's voice rang in his ear. "You need to keep yourself warm," he said, and it was Darry's face that Pony saw as he gathered the aviator hat into his fists and tried to put it on his head, before he fell.

The hat didn't go all the way on his head, instead, it sort of just covered his face as he sunk down further into the cold, wet ice.

And then the world turned black around the edges.