Chapter 5- Apologies

(Pony)

Months. That's how long the doctor said I'd have to wear the uncomfortable neck and back braces. Three whole, long miserable months.

I didn't mind at first. When I first woke up, I couldn't even feel the back brace. It was like every piece of me was asleep. There was nothing. No feeling. No control. Just dead weight.

I was helpless.

Helpless, and confused.

All I could think about was the way that Soda's lip trembled when he looked at me, or the way his eyes went from being the color of fresh dark honey to the same color I remember the churning waters of the Arkansas River being with just one blink. They roiled with emotion, looking just like the water did when it hit the muddy banks and rolled over the small stones there. Flighty. Anxious. Panicked to move on from where it was now. His face was real pale, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hide the true terror that I saw behind his carefully schooled face. He'd spent years playing poker and learning how to hide what he was thinking from others, but he couldn't hide it from me.

And I saw the way that Darry's smile slipped that first time he'd looked down at me. He'd been happy at first, but then his face had gone real tight and is hand had started to shake every time his fingers trailed through my hair.

I was still real mixed up then and trying to figure out exactly what had happened and why everything felt so wrong…so absent.

But no one would tell me why.

They wouldn't answer.

What scared me more than anything was when Darry's stoic face crumpled before my eyes and he started crying. That ain't Darry. Darry always knows what to do. Darry is always in control. Darry ain't scared of anything.

But he was too scared to tell me what was wrong with me.

And so was Sodapop.

They'd never been scared to tell me things before, not even when Mom and Dad died.

And for the second time in my life, Steve was there to step in and help me.

After a couple days though, when I'd finally started to calm down, I started to hate those braces. They were stiff and hard and the first feeling that I got back was a terrible itching and burning along the inside of that back brace. It bugged me something awful to not be able to scratch at it. It's not like I could do much anyway, so I mostly just laid there staring at that yellow-brown stain on the ceiling. You'd think a hospital could afford to have better looking ceilings, but maybe not. Maybe Tulsa General was like the greaser of hospitals, while St. Francis across town was the Soc, all done up nice and fancy.

I looked at the door. Thought of home. Took another unsteady step.

"What you looking at Pone?" Soda's arms were crossed along the siderail and he dropped his chin onto them, smiling a little.

"The same thing I been looking at for a week, Soda." I yawned then slid my eyes to him. "You think they'll let me sit up now?"

Soda chuckled and reached under the blanket to squeeze my hand. "Soon, Pony." He squeezed again.

Everything still felt real strange, but it was getting better. It was like my hands and feet were asleep. And I don't mean that tingly kind of asleep either, that you get if sit in one place too long. I mean numb. So numb that it felt like they weren't even a part of me anymore. But more and more I could feel them, and move them. My hands moved real slow and felt weak, but I could squeeze Soda's hand back when he squeezed mine.

He smiled so big that it made the dimples on his cheeks sink in.

"Glory, kiddo, I'll never get tired of feeling that."

"Me either." I managed a small smile before I yawned again. "You got to work now?"

"Yeah," he sighed. Soda had woken me up real early in the morning so I could see him before he left for work. I knew he didn't want to go. Him and Darry had been arguing about it the last few days. But the hard truth was that he just couldn't take time off any longer. Darry neither. It'd been almost a week and a half since the accident, and they'd both been by my side the whole time.

"Steve is gonna be here though," Soda began. He was scowling, and I wondered what was wrong, "…until Darry gets off. Now, I know you two don't get along real well…"

Maybe that's why he was worried. Maybe he thought Steve and I would get into it and I'd be stuck in bed and not able to get away from his snarky attitude.

"We get along fine, Soda." I said. And we did. At least we had been for the last week, not that he'd actually said much to me. He hadn't said much to anyone come to think of it. It was more of his lack of smart remarks that had me thinking things had changed somehow. I had a sneaking suspicion it was because I was laid up in bed. Even Steve Randle had a heart sometimes. Not to mention Soda and Darry had been there the whole time too, and Steve wasn't dumb enough to try too much in front of them.

But really, I thought something had changed with Steve. I kept having dreams of when I'd been stuck under that truck. And in every one Steve was there trying to help me. But I wasn't sure how much of it was real and how much my rattled brain had made up. I wanted to ask him, but so far I hadn't been alone with him, and I wouldn't ask in front of the gang. Especially now that it didn't seem like he was doing much talking to them. And they weren't talking to him much either. And every now, if I was holding my eyes just right, I saw Darry and Soda giving him a look. 'Course they thought that I couldn't see. I wanted to ask about that too.

"Alright then," Soda stood and did what he'd done since I woke up. Fixed the covers around my shoulders. "Are you cold Pony? You need anything before I go? Steve should have been here… I don't want to leave you alone…"

Before he could even finish, I heard the door open and Soda glanced back over his shoulder. When he turned back to me, his face had suddenly darkened and some of that dancing light was gone from his eyes. He leaned in and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. "Steve's here. I'll be back after work."

I found it incredibly odd that Soda didn't even stop to say hello to his best friend.

The air left the room when Soda did, leaving only an uncomfortable tension, and I went back to looking at that spot on the ceiling. I'd never spent a lot of time alone with Steve, and he couldn't make a conversation out of nothing like Two-Bit could. Still, I was glad I wasn't alone. It ain't real easy to get stuff for yourself when you can barely move.

Besides, I didn't like being alone. Not now. Not after being stuck under that truck all by myself.

"Something interesting up there?" Steve finally broke the silence.

"Just that same stain and speckles that have been there all week," I answered dryly. I'd tried pretending that those speckles were like stars and had tried to find some constellations in them, but even that got boring after a while. 'Sides, looking at the stars still reminded me of Johnny.

"It's a car." Steve leaned closer and pointed to the stain. "See? There's the front there, and the wheels. Two-Bit thinks it looks like Mickey Mouse, but I think he's an idiot."

I snorted. I didn't know what was funnier, the thought of Steve Randle seeing pictures in stains or him calling Two-Bit an idiot.

"He is an idiot…"

"…but he's our idiot." Steve finished the gang's favorite expression before I could.

I squinted at the stain again. "I think it looks like an ant."

Steve seemed to suck in a breath then. "Don't, kid."

"Don't what?"

"Don't go talking like that again, okay? You scared us all something awful talking like that."

"Talking like what?" I really didn't know what he was going on about.

"That first night you woke up…the doctor had to give you some pain meds remember?"

I didn't, but when he paused I kept my mouth shut and waited.

"Well it must have made you all loopy 'cause you kept mumbling how you'd never be able to step on an ant again. Told Soda you knew what it felt like."

I felt real bad then. Soda hadn't said anything, but I'm sure he hadn't taken it real well.

"I don't remember."

"Yeah, well maybe that ain't such a bad thing. But I wouldn't go mentioning ants to Soda or Darry any time soon."

Right then I resolved never even to say the word 'ant' around Soda again if I could help it. "Fine then. It looks like your face after eating Soda's 'special chicken dinner'."

"You would say that." He chuckled and we lapsed into silence. I could feel sleep creeping up on me again, but I wanted to ask about those dreams I'd been having. I just didn't know how. It ain't like Steve and I have ever been real close.

"Steve?" I stared real hard at that spot. A flash of Steve's pained face crossed my mind and I saw him reaching under that truck to grab my hand. "I've been having dreams about when I was stuck under the truck. I was…I was wondering…"

"Stop, kid. Don't." He groaned and slapped his hand on the bedrail before pushing himself forcefully away from the bed. For a minute I was scared he was gonna leave, but then I heard his quick footsteps coming back and he was leaning over me just like he had done that first time I'd waked up. His curls had come loose where he was running his hand through them and his eyes were so big and clear that I could see my own reflection in them. His face was scrunched up just like someone had given him a good punch to the gut, and when he spoke, he sounded like that too. Breathless, and out of sorts. "Damnit, Pony I'm sorry. If I had listened to you about that jack this wouldn't have happened and…and I'm sorry alright?"

I maybe should have been shocked that he was apologizing to me, but something had changed between us. I could feel it, and I wasn't surprised.

"I ain't blaming you, Steve," I looked at him as best I could, "well, maybe at first...when they first told me it happened when I was helping you. But then I started to dream…to remember. And I know now you didn't mean it. It was an accident. Just an accident. Shit happens."

"Kid, you are something else." He sank back down into the chair shook his head. "You sure are something else."

"That's what they tell me, Steve."

He was quiet again. I figured then my dreams were real. Steve really had been scared. He really had tried to help me.

"Go to sleep, kid. You look beat." I figured I must look as tired as I felt. Soda had woken me up awful early. I didn't have the energy to argue with him.

"Alright, Steve. You're stayin' right?"

"Yeah, Ponyboy. I ain't going nowhere. I'll be here if you need something."

Steve Randle being nice to me. Who would have thought? I thought of something else right before I dropped off.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell my brothers I said 'shit.'"

"Come on, Pony. You can do it. We're right here." Soda's voice broke into my thoughts. He had a hold on one of my arms while Darry held the other.

I shook away the memory of Steve and focused on taking another, shaky, step. One step closer to the door. One step closer to being able to go home.

"I feel like a baby," I mumbled, slightly irritated that I hadn't been able to just hop out of bed and walk around like nothing was wrong.

"You just cracked your spine, Kiddo. Doc said you're going to be weak for a while, Ponyboy. You just got to put your head down and work hard."

"Yeah, Darry. Real simple. I'll just tell my spinal cord to heal faster."

"Darry." I didn't have to be able to see Soda to know that he was glaring at our oldest brother. "Pony, he didn't mean it like that…"

"Yeah, I know."

I thought about what Darry said. Weak was an understatement. If Soda and Darry hadn't be holding me up, I was sure I would have fallen to the ground. I could tell that they knew it too, their grips a little too tight. I flexed my hands, constantly trying to work the numbness out of them. The doctor had said the more I used them the better my movement would get. So far, he'd been right. But I secretly worried there could come a time when I'd stop getting better.

Months. That's how long the doctor said I'd have to wear the braces…three whole, long miserable months.

The back and neck brace were both stiff and too tight, and my legs were numb and shaky. It had been an odd feeling when I had first stood and continued to be odd still today. It was like feeling the floor through a shoe that was way too thick, even though I wasn't wearing any shoes. I barely had control of the muscles. My feet jerked and twisted and rolled unless I focused on every little movement that made up every step. I was reminded of when I'd first joined the track team, and the coach had made us run for miles. By the time I was done, my legs were like Jell-O. They had refused to move when I wanted them to and had barely held me up. It was the same now, only now they felt like dead extensions of my body, and I wasn't sure I was ever gonna get that movement back quite like it had been before.

But I was moving, and that's what mattered. At least that's what I told myself every time the therapists or Darry and Soda came up with some new idea to get my strength back.

The only thing that kept me on my feet now was the thought of going home. The doc had said as soon as I was sufficiently mobile, even with help, I could go home.

"I'm done, I need to sit." I tried to keep the strain and fear out of my voice but failed miserably. I could feel myself going weak at the knees and was already sinking down. Soda and Darry both scurried to grab me with the hands they weren't already holding me with, and hauled me back to the edge of the bed. I sank down gratefully.

But this time, I'd made it all the way across the room. It was the same distance from mine and Soda's room to the couch. The same distance from the couch to the bathroom at home. And it was the same distance from the couch to the kitchen table. Going home was so close I could feel it.

Those ants popped back into my head again. Ants scurrying to a piece of food on the floor. Ants picking up another ant and running away with them. They've been doing that. Popping into my head, I mean. I didn't know if my head wasn't screwed on quite right since the accident, or if it spooked me so bad I was imagining things. I wanted to say something to Darry and Sodapop about it, but Steve had warned me not to, so I kept my mouth shut good.

Suddenly I realized Darry was looking at me. His forehead was beginning to do that thing it does when he's worried about something, where it wrinkles right between his eyes, and his mouth was turning down at the corners. Soda was hovering nearby with the same nervous look. I guess I'd been sitting there staring off a little longer than I thought.

"Golly, Darry, why are you looking at me like that? Haven't you ever seen a tin-man before?" I rapped on the chest plate of the back brace with embarrassing uncoordinated movements and offered him a small smile.

"We're just worried about you, Pone." Soda spoke for Darry.

"I'm fine. Or I will be when I can go home." I was tired of staring at the same four walls and figured I could rest at home just as much as I was resting there.

"About that…" Darry was trying to suppress a grin.

"I can go home?" I couldn't begin to keep the hope out of my voice. "Like today?"

"Today. Doc said you're getting better every day. As long as we agreed to bring you back for physical therapy, he thinks you'll do just fine at home. Got to keep wearing the braces though. And you got to let us help you. You ain't allowed to do no moving on your own, Ponyboy." Darry pointed his finger at me like I was going to start arguing with him. But I wasn't going to do anything stupid. I didn't want to go back to being paralyzed. Not ever.

Soda was bouncing on his heels, unable to contain himself any longer. "Doc said in another week you'd be walking all over the place, Pony. 'said all the swelling is gone and you're healing up nice and here soon nobody will be able to tell this ever even happened!"

"That doesn't mean you are allowed to go walking though," Darry added sternly, his face turning from happy to concerned in an instant.

"I won't, Darry. Promise."

I guess he believed me because he ruffled my hair and leaned in close. One of his arms swept under my legs while the other went snugly over the brace in the back. It was a move that we'd been perfecting since they started letting me sit up and start to move around.

He looked at me. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

Darry scooped me up and turned me so that I was sitting comfortable in the bed with the head of it helping to hold me up. Usually it took two people to help me get situated, but Darry could move me all by his lonesome. Soda helped me pull the covers up so that they pooled around my lap.

Both my brothers turned when the door opened.

"Hey hey hey what's got you looking so cheery this fine day?" Two-Bit always did know how to make an entrance.

"They're letting me go home Two-Bit. Hey, Steve."

"Oh yeah? Blowing this popsicle stand, eh? Hitting the road? Making a break for it? Making like a tree and LEAFing?" Two-Bit when on cheerily before dropping into "his" chair near the end of the bed.

"Yeah something like that." I laughed.

"Kid's right, you are an idiot." Steve rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall.

"Pone, you didn't? You wouldn't. There's no way my best bud would call me, Two-Bit Matthews, an idiot." Two-Bit covered his heart dramatically. "You wound me, sir!"

"I didn't say anything, Two-Bit, talk to Steve. That's all his doing. Something about a stain and Mickey Mouse."

"Seems like a lot of things are Steve's doing nowadays." Darry mumbled under his breath before Two-Bit could say anything, but it was quiet enough in the room that everyone could still hear.

The room went so still so fast that I felt the air rush past me, almost like it had been sucked right out of an open door. It was so eerily silent that I swear I could hear Two-Bit blink as he stared in disbelief at Darry.

Soda didn't even try to defend his buddy.

I suddenly realized why everyone had been so quiet around Steve. They were all still blaming him.

I was the only one facing him when Darry said those words, and I saw his face fall in the split second before his eyes hardened and his face went carefully blank. He was suddenly real interested the pack of cigarettes he was carrying.

I thought of Steve yelling for me then, crawling under the truck on his belly until he couldn't move any further, grabbing my hand and promising me he wouldn't leave me. I thought of the way his face had been screwed up like he was going to panic or cry, but he'd held everything together for me. He'd tried to lift the truck with Darry…sat in here that day and done his best to apologize…

"It ain't Steve's fault you know." I said. I was angry at Darry. Angry at Soda. They should know, I thought. They should know that Steve would never let anything happen to me if he could help it. I swallowed and tried to get rid of the knot that had suddenly formed in my throat. "I remember now-I didn't before. He was real worried after, stayed with me until you got there, Darry. And he wouldn't let me go to sleep, just like you wouldn't Sodapop. He didn't mean for it to happen. You hear me Steve?" I raised my voice like he had when I'd been under that truck and he finally turned to look at me. "I know that it ain't your fault."

He looked at me. His face was pale, but his jaw was set, determined to hide the rolling emotion I could see simmering just below the surface. I wondered if he'd always hidden his emotions like that and I just hadn't noticed.

We'd been through this before, but everyone else needed to know too. I reached out, and like I'd hoped, both of my brothers grabbed my hands. "I ain't mad at him. And you don't got to be either. It was an accident. Just an accident."

It was barely a dip of his head, but I saw it. A thank you.

"I won't be able to climb up in the truck," I started again, looking at Steve carefully, "but your car might be easier. Do you think I could bum a ride? Tagalong with you and Two-Bit?"

His eyes narrowed. He always had been smart. He knew what I was doing. If I also showed my brothers I didn't blame Steve, instead of just saying it, then maybe they wouldn't either. He looked at me carefully. "I think we could make some room. You are awful scrawny, shouldn't take up too much space."

I rolled my eyes. Leave it to good ol' Steve to start ribbing me again when I was trying to help him out.

"Glory, Pony, you sure know how to make a guy feel real small…" I could hear Soda's feet shuffle against the floor and knew instinctively he was looking down at them, unable to meet Steve's eyes.

"Yeah," Darry began slowly, "turns out Ponyboy here might've been the only Curtis brother using his head this time…"

Steve, clearly uncomfortable, waved them both away and mumbled something that sounded like, "it's nothing."

"Well," Two-Bit drawled dryly as he cocked his eyebrow, "this little talk has been just as interesting as my junior year, but…"

"Every year is your junior year, Two-Bit." Darry wasn't amused.

"As I was saying," Two-Bit cut back in, "this little talk has been just as interesting as the eleventh grade, but I think maybe your kid brother is ready to go home."

Leave it to good ol' Two-Bit to move us right along. He never could be serious for more than five minutes.

"What do ya think, Steve? Pony?" Soda looked between us, smiling. It had been that easy for him to forgive his best friend. "Think there's enough room in your car for me too? That okay with you Darry?"

"Yeah," Darry looked unsure at first, then seemed to make up his mind about something. "I think that'll work just fine, Steve. I know you'll take good care of my brothers. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry. It's just that, well, I ain't ever been so…."

Scared, I thought. Darry had never been that scared.

"Me too, Stevie." Soda clapped him on the shoulder.

Steve nodded.

An olive branch.

Darry patted me on the leg. "I'll go see about that discharge paperwork, Kiddo. You gonna be okay?"

I balled my hands into fists. Felt the muscles tighten. They were stronger than they had been even a day ago, and I had the feeling that the doctor was right. I was going to get better, and everything would be okay.

"Yeah, Darry, I'll be fine."

And I would be. I just knew it.

The End.

Stay Gold.

Well, there you have it folks, that's the end. Thanks for all your love and support throughout this story. This one was never meant to be long, so I'm ending it here. You can rest assured that everything worked out for Pony and he made a full recovery. I can say this with full confidence because 1. I wrote this story, so I get to decide what happens next, and 2. I had a friend that broke his neck (not the same way), and that's how his recovery went and I based Pony's recovery after his.

Thanks again to Simona, who made me edit this chapter 5,957 times. Haha! JK, but she did make sure I didn't leave you hanging with any missing information.

Please Review.