Whew, chapter 2 was a doozy! Thank you for all the great reviews, favs, and follows! I love that so many people connected with the ants! Jolielisa, thank you for that amazing review...I'm calling you out since I know that everyone else got my messages responding to their reviews lol ;). Thanks again guys! And as always special thanks to Simona for literally letting me analyze every sentence with her.

Okay, here we go.

Chapter 3- Motionless

(Steve)

He wasn't moving.

They didn't let us see him. Not me, not Two-Bit. Not even Soda or Darry. They rushed him away before we could get even my Chevelle parked.

The red lights of the ambulance flashed and danced, reflecting off the white hospital brick and onto the faces of the medics and Ponyboy. He was covered to his armpits by a sheet, while the medics held bottles of fluid above him as they pushed the cot toward the emergency room door. His neck was still held in that stiff collar while his eyes faced the sky.

I couldn't tell if they were open or not, but it didn't look good.

Even from across the parking lot it was obvious. His color wasn't right. His skin lacked any color at all, so much so that it was almost translucent under the bright lights that marked the emergency room entrance. Like a ghost. The thought came to me suddenly, and I pushed it away with the same amount of force I had used when we tried to lift that truck off of him. His skin was so white that it was difficult to tell where his skin began and the sheet ended. If it weren't for the sheen of sweat that reflected the lights, I'm not sure that I could have.

He was still. Still like the room had been that night he came home and told us that Johnny had died. It was more than just the stillness of relaxed muscle. More than the stillness of someone trying to not move. He was motionless like a car abandoned on the side of the road when it ran out of gas, or like the air in the summertime inside the garage at the DX. Lifeless, like the images of Dally and Johnny in that photograph he kept pinned to the wall in their room.

There weren't any windows in the room that the receptionist led us to. It was small, separate from the full waiting room outside, and furnished only with a table, loveseat, and chairs.

And a cross on the wall.

A door. No windows. Private. Secluded so no one could see you cry. Sodapop and Darry been here before. Soda had told me all about it after their parents had died. How the hospital squirrels you away… hides you in a hole away from other families so they could deliver the bad news in private. So you couldn't see others families leave happy and smiling when the doctor made their friend, their brother, better but not yours.

The silence was heavy, broken only by the Sodapop's sobs and Two-Bit's quiet sniffling. Darry simply stared forward and shook, silent tears running down his face.

They could feel it too. The future. Black and foreboding, just as dangerous as a downtown alley on a night there was no moon. The kind of alley that even Tim's boys wouldn't venture into on a night like that, their instincts honed from the streets telling them that someone more dangerous than they lurked at the end or hid in the shadows.

Guilt gnawed at my guts like an old cur dog chewing on a bone. Soda had put me in charge of thing he cared about most in the world, and I'd let him down.

I pulled a smoke out of my pocket, brought it to my face to light it, and dropped it again. Blood had crusted around my nails and under them, taking the usual place that was normally caked with grease and oil. The smells of oil mixing with iron overpowered the faint smell of tobacco and made my stomach turn.

"Steve."

I dropped my hands from where I had been inspecting them and looked at Darry.

"Sit down. This room ain't big enough for you to pace. You're making me nervous."

I doubted it was my pacing that was making him nervous, but I stopped immediately. I hadn't even realized I'd been pacing. I dropped into the chair that was next to Soda and rubbed at my fingertips. Bits of dried blood flaked off. I wished there was a sink so I could wash my hands. I rubbed harder.

"Stop." Soda's trembling hand covered both of mine, but he didn't look up. One tear ran down the tip of his nose and splashed onto the floor. "Please, just…stop."

He reminded me of Pony then, yelling from under the truck to stop moving him when Two-Bit had tried to pull him out. His voice was panicky, full of pain. Like Soda's now. Only Sodapop's pain wasn't caused by an idiot friend that let a truck fall on him. It was caused by an idiot friend that might have accidentally killed his little brother.

"Soda…" Darry was sitting right across from me and when I raised my head, I could see he was looking at that cross on the wall. His voice was uncharacteristically uncertain. "I think …I think Mom would tell us that we should pray."

Soda gave him a pleading look. I knew for a fact that neither had been to church for ages. When their parents died so did what little faith their mama had managed to instill in them, their hearts having already been tainted by growing up on the rough east side. Just like the rest of us, they'd learned early on that things weren't easy for those of us that had been born on the bottom.

"No, Darry, don't say that …he can't be that bad off…he was talking…"

Sodapop trailed off. Darry didn't say anything. He didn't have to. We all knew, even Soda. The moment they'd stuck us in this room we had known it was only a matter of time.

I wondered then if I should pray for him to recover, or if it was too late, and I should ask for forgiveness.

XXX

The door swung open almost before they'd finished knocking.

We were on our feet immediately, staring into the frowning face of an older man in a white doctor's coat and the perfectly blank face of the hospital's chaplain, who was dressed exactly the priest at the little church that Ponyboy had dragged us all to last year.

"Oh, God…Jesus…" The moment Soda saw the chaplain he shook his head and backed away. His words were choked and cut short, and I wasn't sure if he was continuing the prayer that Darry had been muddling through or begging the Heavens that his brother wasn't already gone. He stumbled before Darry caught him by the shoulders and pulled him to his side.

The doctor looked to each one of us, obviously unsure who he should be speaking to. Darry stepped forward and stretched out his hand.

"Dr. Williams." The doc introduced himself then nodded curtly to the seats. "Please, sit. I have some news on your…"

"...brother." Darry finished for him.

The doctor nodded and motioned again to the seats.

Suddenly I was reminded of riding in a car with Dally. He always did like to drive real fast, and he'd take curves and hills doing eighty-five. I swear sometimes he got air going over the tracks that cross Sutton, and whenever he did, my stomach would drop right to my feet.

That's exactly how it felt when that doctor asked us to take a seat.

The man waited until we'd all sat down, and I noticed dimly that neither he nor the priest chose to sit themselves. He looked at us again.

"As I'm sure you are aware, your brother was gravely injured. The fire department tells me that he was pinned for some time beneath a heavy vehicle, and on the way here in the ambulance his condition continued to deteriorate…"

"Get on with it, Doc. Just tell us how the kid is doing." I interrupted. I didn't want to hear how he'd been injured…we'd all seen it. I'd been there when it happened. Heard him scream. Saw his eyes close as I talked to him…

Don't say I killed him.

Please don't let him be dead.

"Is he dead?" Two-Bit echoed my thoughts.

The doctor didn't look flustered in the least, evidently used to distraught family members interrupting him. He simply looked at us for a moment, then met Darry's eyes.

"He's alive. But he's in critical condition. We believe that he has sustained at least one spinal injury as a result of the truck falling on him. X-rays are pending now. Bruising and distension across his abdomen indicate that there is also some internal bleeding, and he's been taken to the OR…surgery. The altered level of consciousness is also concerning, especially when coupled with the mechanism of injury and apparent injuries to his head."

"God Almighty." Darry's hand was covering his mouth and I could tell he was trying hard to take it all in. He looked at the doctor disbelievingly. Opened his mouth. Closed it again. Finally, all his questions came out as one. "Is he paralyzed? What about his head? He's still bleeding? You said he's critical…what are…what are his chances?"

The doctor's face was grim. "I can't give you a number, son. But I won't lie to you. He's alive now, but things are still very serious. He went into shock prior to arriving here. He had some major blood loss. The surgeon needs to get this bleeding stopped. Once he does that, your brother's chances are much better. As for being paralyzed, the paramedic stated that he lost the ability to move his arms and legs en route to our facility. I'm sorry boys. We are hoping it is a temporary condition and is only a result of swelling around the spinal cord…but at this time I can't guarantee anything."

"Holy shit. Holy shit." Glory, if the kid was a car, they'd have towed him off to the junkyard. I reached into my pocket and this time managed to put the cigarette between my lips. I broke the first match on the wooden leg of the chair. Drug the second one across the bottom of my shoe… an image of the kid doing the same thing only hours before flashed across my mind and I was on my feet before I knew it. Just earlier I had been walking him through how to change the oil. I'd been berating him for making a stupid fucking mistake when he hadn't screwed in the oil plug just right. I had been cursing my life 'cause Soda had found a way to pawn off his tagalong kid brother on me even when he wouldn't be there himself. Then I had found myself actually enjoying teaching him something…been surprised when he listened to what I had to say without running his smartass mouth. I guess I sure didn't show it though… I had paid him back by not listening to him about the jack. Then after I had only been able to call for help and hold his hand… "God dammit!"

I turned and kicked the chair I'd been sitting on. I was out the door before anyone could stop me.

I hadn't made it halfway down the hall when static crackled over the loudspeaker. "Code Blue, OR. Code Blue, OR."

I was already back at the door when Dr. Williams came flying out of the room and nearly knocked me over in the process. He pushed through a door marked "stairs" and was gone.

A low guttural wail came from inside the small room and I found Soda on his knees, Darry crouched in front of him. Soda's face was buried in his chest and Darry was openly sobbing. Two-Bit's face was buried in his hands and his shoulders shook.

The chaplain rubbed Soda's back, one hand on Darry's shoulder. "I'm sorry, son. God has called him home…"

"No!" I refused to believe it and shoved the no-good chaplain out of the way. I'd done enough over the years that I was pretty sure I wouldn't get to Heaven anyway and decided I could make pushing that priest right with God later if I needed to. "Come on Soda, Darry. We got to get up there."

It was a struggle getting Soda to his feet.

"Let's go, Soda. We've got to go!" I pulled him past the chaplain by the elbow.

"What floor is the OR? Come on man, what floor?" Two-Bit wiped under his eyes as he waited for the priest to answer.

"Third."

Darry's shock must have worn off because he pressed past us and was running down the hall. "Darry here!" I pulled Soda through the door to the stairs I'd seen the doctor use and took them two at a time.

We burst through the door to the third-floor hall. For a moment I didn't know which way to go, but then we spotted the large doors at the end of the hall that marked the OR.

The waiting room was similar to the one we'd walked through in the ER. Rows of hard plastic chairs and fake plants lined the walls. One or two people waited in the chairs. A nurse looked at us quizzically.

"Can I help you…gentlemen?"

Just then Dr. Williams rushed through the doors behind her. He quickly spotted us and strode across the room. "It's okay boys... It wasn't him. He's okay. They're finishing up now and moving him to ICU. I'll take you there."

"It wasn't him." Soda repeated the words like he didn't believe them. "Jesus Christ, it wasn't him."

Darry pulled Soda into his arms and squeezed the daylights out of him.

It wasn't him. It wasn't Pony.

XXX

"The body is like a car," the kid told me while pointing to a picture labeled The Human Body in my Anatomy book. "And the circulatory system is like the fuel system. The heart is the fuel pump. It receives blood from the body and pumps it into the lungs. Then the left side gets the blood from the lungs and pumps it to the body. It works just like the fuel pump in your car. The fuel pump gets the gas from the tank and pumps it to the engine…" His eyes were bright and excited as he explained it in a way he was certain I'd understand.

"And just what do you know about fuel pumps?" I'd sneered instead of thanking him.

"Just what Sodapop told me," He shrugged like he didn't care, but a little bit of the light burned out and he looked away from me. "I guess I always remembered 'cause it reminded me so much of this kinda stuff."

"Yeah, well you just sound like a know it all to me." I probably didn't need to look at him the way I did then, but he was a smartass kid. Always there tagging along. Always with somthin' smart to say about everything.

"Hey man, you asked me to help. Try passing the test by yourself, Steve. Johnny and I got plans. Come on Johnny, let's go to the lot." The kid pushed away from the table and was making his way through the kitchen when I stopped him.

I'd always thought of myself as pretty smart. Not just street smart either. Sure, I could lift a hubcap faster than anyone in the neighborhood, but I always done good in school too.

Until Anatomy and Physiology.

I thought it would be fun. Getting to see pictures of girls' bits and what-not. But it wasn't anything like I imagined it to be, and my grades were slipping.

Slipping so bad I'd resorted to asking the kid for help. It riled me to no end that he was doing so good in the class while I couldn't tell a liver apart from a pancreas.

"Yeah and I s'pose you'd like to leave me here to figure it out by my lonesome, wouldn't you? Sit your ass down and help me." The kid grated on my nerves.

"Steve, lay off if you want him to help you!" Darry's voice rose from the other room. "Pony, you help Steve with his homework."

He rolled his eyes but snickered. Kid probably felt pretty tuff, thinking that Steve Randle needed him for something.

Pony shuffled back to the table and tapped the book with his finger. This time he didn't sound as excited when he spoke, "The car's engine, now that's like all the organs in the body. Each part has a different job, but it all works together to make the car run smooth. And the integumentary system-the skin-that's like the check engine light for the body. You can tell a lot about what's going on with a person's body based on what their skin looks like…"

Well, the kid's check engine light was certainly on. Even after surgery and a blood transfusion, his skin was pasty. It was the same white-yellow color as their smoke-stained walls back at the house. Pale. Sick. Wrong.

"He's still cold," Soda withdrew his hand from under the blankets and lightly traced his fingers down the kid's cheek.

"I'll see if I can get another blanket," Two-Bit slipped out the door, on the hunt for where the nursing staff kept the warmed blankets. He'd find them. Or steal one right off another patient. Either way, I knew he'd come back with a hot blanket to put against the kid's skin.

It was a game we'd been playing every fifteen minutes or so. Put the warm blanket over Ponyboy. Cover it with the one that had cooled off to help keep heat in. Repeat. It didn't seem to do much good, though. According to Soda, it wasn't helping all that much…like trying to heat a car in the winter with the windows rolled down, I guess. Still, it'd be much easier if we didn't have to ask the nurse for a new blanket each time.

Darry sat stony, his head resting on one hand while the other reached under the IV and oxygen tubing to rest on the kid's head. His eyes never left his brother's face. His thumb stroked Pony's hair.

There was a quick knock on the door and the doctor poked his head in. "Mr. Curtis and… Mr. Curtis can I please speak to you in my office?" He glanced at me.

Soda didn't move. His red, puffy eyes stayed trained on his brother's face. I know he heard him, but he didn't acknowledge that the doctor was even present. Not until Darry placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Pepsi, I think the doctor has something to tell us."

Soda nodded reluctantly and stood. He carefully leaned over the bed gave Pony a kiss between the eyes. "We'll be right back, Pone. Steve, will you watch him? He might wake up…"

"Yeah. I'll stay right here, Soda."

Soda gave me a grateful smile and followed Darry out of the room.

I watched him just as Soda requested. His skin still hadn't improved. Hesitantly I reached under the covers for his hand. Soda was right. It was cold. Motionless. Unresponsive.

"Hey, kid, looks like it's just you and me. Guess your check engine light is on, huh?"

He had gotten me an A on that test. And I'd never even thanked him. And now here he was, all busted up and broken, just like the countless cars me and his big brother had fixed down at the DX.

"Ponyboy…Glory, kid, I'm so sorry."

If you were a car, I'd fix you.