Long chapter below! Finishing up before the new year. Enjoy!

OoO

Today - 1:11am

"Darry?" Soda asks as I turn down a familiar street. He gives me a look. "Home?"

"Home."

Steve groans and stretches out best he can in the seat. "'Bout time." He shuts his eyes, tugging his DX cap down tight.

Brow furrowed, Two-Bit's asks, "You sure, Dar? Because I really don't mind—"

"He's okay, Two-Bit. Besides, we're not gonna find him tonight. With Ponyboy, the thing to do is just let him find us."

OoO

Today - 1:16am

"So, where're we goin?"

"Head outta town, then right before the highway take the first le—"

"Pony?"

"Oh…" I rest a hand against the window. "Oh boy…"

"What?"

"I think…"

"What is it?"

"I think…the car is spinning…"

A laugh from Joe. "There's too much booze in your bloodstream."

I swallow thickly as my stomach churns. We drive in silence a few more minutes and I try to choke it back. But then Joe rounds a curve and my fingers fly to the lock as my stomach jumps again. I tug it up. "Stop the car, Joe."

"Pony—"

"Stop the car, I'm gonna be sick."

Then I'm throwing open the door, while the car's still moving. Punching the breaks, Joe swerves to the side of the road, over on the shoulder. I barely make it out in time before I'm puking my guts out in the ditch. My mouth tastes like something rotten has crawled in and died.

I gag a few more times and then straighten up. Joe's waiting for me in the truck, the lights bright. I shield my eyes and give him a thumbs-up. I walk two steps, pause, then my stomach gives a familiar lurch and I'm back in the ditch, cursing Joe and Jack Daniels.

OoO

Today - 1:20am

"What an asshole," Soda snaps.

"What?" I ask, coming around the back end of the truck. He juts a finger at our busted mailbox. The top half that carries the letters is gone. "Perfect."

We walk up to the house and go inside.

OoO

Today - 1:22am

Steve trips over something and curses in the dark. Soda scrambles, flicking on a light switch. We all squint in the harsh light. The coat rack lies right at the entrance of the house; Steve's sprawled out on the ground. "I think Pony was here," he says.

Soda sticks a hand down to help Steve up. I nod, heading towards Two-Bit, who's already in the kitchen. "I think so too."

"Hey, uh, Darry…"

Two-Bit has his hands propped on his waist. He's staring at the top of our mailbox, letters spilled over the table and onto the floor. I smear a hand down my face. "God. What'd he do now?"

"He left a note…"

I snatch the newspaper from Two-Bit. On the back, scrawled across a car advertisement is Pony's familiar writing: I AM FINE. BE HOME LATER. DON'T WORRY.

"A real wordsmith, he is," Two-Bit says.

I hand the note to Soda and he reads it. He looks at me. "He took the fishing poles."

"What?" I hold up my hands. "Never mind. I don't even want to know."

"Where you goin', Dar?" Soda asks as I begin to walk toward the hallway.

"To bed. That's where you should go too, Soda."

"But—"

"He's fine. He'll come back when he's done doing whatever idiotic idea he's come up with. And I'll deal with him then." I take off my watch. "But right now, I'm tired. It's been a long day…"

Two-Bit looks worried, standing still in the kitchen. "You go home," I tell him. "Don't stay up looking for him, because I know that's what you'll do, Two-Bit."

"Might just crash here then," Two-Bit says with a casual shrug. "That way I can give Pony an appropriate welcome-back."

"I tell you what," Steve says, heading out. "Pony had better been up to something fan-fucking-tastic tonight. If not, I'm gonna kick his ass."

I edge into my bedroom, the chatter behind me continuing. Sleep deprived and surly, and with the insane night I've had, I know it will be a long time before I even think of having kids of my own.

"Yeah." Two-Bit's voice floats down the hallway as I hit the sack. "I expect tattoos. Blondes. Animal prints."

OoO

Today - 1:45am

"Down there," I instruct.

Joe takes the truck off-road, down a steep incline and across a frozen field. It's pitch black outside and I can't remember the last time I've stayed up this late. The cup of coffee I'm holding – Joe having made a pit stop before heading out of town – warms my hands. The nasty taste of vomit lingers in my mouth but my world has stopped spinning and I'm thankful.

"Stop here," I say, seeing the glossy surface of the lake approaching. Joe keeps driving. "Joe…stop…here!" I panic, thinking he doesn't see the body of water. Oh god, he's taking me with him. We're going to plow into the ice and sink and—

Then, Joe lets loose a yell and says, "Hold on, Ponyboy!" Wincing, I cover my eyes as Joe suddenly cranks the wheel, swinging the truck into a full-on spin. The truck halts at the very edge, the bed facing the lake.

Coffee covers the legs of my jeans. Joe's laughing. "I always wanted to do that," he says.

I throw the now-empty Styrofoam cup at Joe and then tumble out of the truck. I hit the grass and breathe in cool air. I see my socked feet and wonder why in the hell I didn't pick shoes up back at the house.

OoO

Today - 2:40am

"So this is what it's all about huh? Fishing."

"I guess so." Warily, I watch Joe bait a hook and then cast. It hits the water and begins to sink. It's not cold enough for the lake to have frozen over but a faint dusting of ice is making it difficult to hook anything. Our breath comes in big, white puffs. While we have jackets, we're still shivering, but the lateness and the dark make it hard to give a damn anymore.

"Ain't they supposed to bite?"

I stifle a yawn. "I'm sure that it being three in the morning probably has something to do with it."

"It's pretty peaceful," Joe says. "A night like this seems made for it." He pours me some coffee from the thermos. I take it and drink, wrinkling my nose at its bitter taste.

"Yeah, it sure does." I smile, thinking of my dad who sure loved to fish. I glance at Joe's profile; he's in shadows, eyes bright. "Say uh, Joe…after tonight…you ain't still thinkin' of…you know…"

"How're your feet?"

"Cold."

"How about the arm?"

"Cold too. But you still didn't answer my question." I yawn again, feeling fuzzy.

"I'll answer it in the morning."

"So you'll be alive in the morning, I take it." He doesn't answer me and I roll my eyes. "Joe…" I take another sip of coffee. I frown. "What's in this?" Joe reels in his line. "What's in this coffee?"

"Magic."

I yawn, my vision blurring. I drop the fishing pole. "Did you – did you just drug me?"

"Something for your arm," Joe says. "Make you feel warm and fuzzy inside."

I recline back in the truck, the stars twinkle above me."You can't just go around drugging people, Joe. You shouldn't be shooting people, either."

"Accidents happen, Ponyboy."

"I think tonight's a bust…"

"It's not tonight, anymore."

"Well, it should be…I can't believe you drugged me…"

Joe chuckles. My eyes shut. I hear the crank of his reel. "Hey look," he says, before I drift off. "I think I caught a big ol' son-of-a-bitch…"

OoO

Today – 6:11am

The smell of freshly brewed coffee floats into my bedroom. For a minute, I forget the events of last night but then I open my eyes. I slide out of bed and find Sodapop in the kitchen, staring into a cup of black coffee.

"Pony?"

Soda shakes his head. "Ain't back yet."

I sit across from him at the table. "Well…it ain't like he's 14…"

Soda raises a brow, smirking. "C'mon, Dar. Just admit it, man. You just wanna ground him for disappearing." He takes a sip of the coffee and grimaces. "Hell, I know I do – just for making me resort to this." Soda stands and dumps the coffee down the sink.

"Shit…" I join Soda at the counter and grab a mug. "He's your brother."

Soda smirks. "Prove it."

OoO

Today - 6:55am

"Best we could do last night."

"Last night?"

I can see my reflection in the dark lenses of his sunglasses. My eyes wider than wide. He waits, the corners of his mouth fighting a smirk. And when I see that smile – that smirk – I remember.

"Oh, no."

He hands me a cigarette. "Oh, yeah."

I put a hand to my head. "You drugged me."

Joe lights my smoke. "Don't look so wounded, Ponyboy. You feel better don't ya? Got some sleep?"

I wrap my arms around myself, shivering through the cold. The duct tape's still tight on my arm. "Well, yeah, but—"

"No buts about it then. I'll just take a thank-you-very-much, Joe."

I scoff. "Right. Right behind, thanks-for- shooting- me- in -the -arm, Joe."

"So we're back to that?"

"Bet your ass we're back to that." Scooting forward, I unhinge the tailgate and climb out of the tail bed. The cigarette, stuck between my lips, huffs and puffs. The damp ground soaks my socks. "Look, we really need to talk about last night. I know we had a deal but I can't just walk away and let you go and—"

"I ain't planning to off myself, Ponyboy. At least not anymore." Suspicious, I cock my head. "Why the sudden change of heart?" Joe says, asking my question. "Well, when I was fishing last night, reeling in a 10 pound trout—"

"Bullshit…"

"No way. That trout was big as a cat."

"Where is it then?"

"Released it. I'm not in the business of killin' fish…"

"Bullshit."

"You gonna keep calling bullshit or let me talk?" Joe shakes his head. "I swear…I'm beginning to see what your brothers get so exasperated about."

I throw my arms up. "How do you—? You haven't even met my brothers…Jesus…"

"Can I continue?"

"Go for it," I tell him, stalking toward the cab, where it's warm. Joe follows and climbs into the passenger seat. He presses the keys into my palm. I start the truck and crank the heat.

"As I was saying…I had an epiphany. I have never fished before – and if I have never fished before, what else haven't I done? Ending it would have been the easy way out, but like last night reminded me, nothing has ever been easy. Well, maybe Katie Collins in tenth grade, but I digress…"

Joe gives a solemn nod. "Plus, I'm alive – others aren't so lucky out there…what with the war and all…"

I swallow thickly, my thoughts tuning Joe out and drifting to Johnny and Dally. Johnny and his 17-years-only lived. Dal and his death wish. I take a long drag off the cigarette.

"—no regrets, am I right?"

"What?" I shake out of my daze.

Joe's smiling. "Zoning out on me? You okay?"

"No, I—you're right," I tell him. "I'm glad you worked it out."

"With your help." Joe says. "Without you, I'd be in the blue heaven." He claps my shoulder. Squeezes. "What do you say about breakfast? My treat. Then I'll take you home and return this ride."

"Sounds like a plan."

Joe drums his fingers against the dash. He looks happier, less desperate than when I had first met him. "Let me go grab your gear," he says. "Wouldn't want to forget that." He hops out, heads to the bank of the lake, to stand right in front of the truck.

I watch him dip, gathering the tackle box. I stretch an arm around the back of the headrest, put the car in reverse and—

The truck zips forward instead. Hits something. "Oh holy hit," I swear, stomping on the brakes. I can't see Joe anymore. Biting my lip, I very slowly slide out of the truck, fearing the worst. "Joe…?"

Joe's on the ground, curled up in a fetal position. "Christ," I say, rushing forward, dropping my smoke. "I'm so sorry…I didn't mean to hit you, I didn't see—"

"You didn't hit me, Pony," Joe musters, looking pained. He rolls onto his back. My hands hover, not knowing what to do. "My goddamn stomach….Can you just get me to a hospital?"

I loop my hands underneath his armpits and tug him up.

OoO

Today - 7:47am

The doctor won't let me in – family only. Since they're not telling me anything I wander the fifth floor, ignoring the odd stares and curious glances. I know I look like trash; hell, I feel like it.

Finally, I find a payphone.

OoO

Today - 7:49am

I'm in the middle of arguing with Two-Bit – he's made up some posters that read: MISSING HORSE. ANSWERS TO THE NAME OF PONYBOY CURTIS. $200 REWARD. The poster's complete with Ponyboy's high school graduation photo.

Where Two-Bit found time to do this, I'll never know.

"You're not putting those up," I shout at him as I cross the room to answer the phone. "He's not missing."

"It's just a farce, Dar!" Two-Bit says. A tired-looking Sodapop takes the posters from Two-Bit and heads to the trash can.

I pick up the phone. "Hello?"

OoO

Today - 7:52am

"Darry?"

"Glory, Ponyboy." Darry's voice is tired but alert. His typical response when he's at his wits end. "Where in the hell are you?"

"I'm at the hospital." The moment the phrase is out of my mouth I know it's a poor choice. I hurry on before Darry can jump to any conclusions. "I mean, I'm not in the hospital…it's not for me. A friend is – this guy – well he—"

"You're okay?" This time, the voice that comes out is tight.

"I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine, Dar. Can you—can you just come get me?" A nurse rounds the corner, looks me up and down. Closing my eyes, I lean forward and rest my forehead against the wall. "Please?"

"I'll leave right now," Darry says. Keys jingle. He shouts something at Sodapop and then is back. "You know, Ponyboy, you better have some damn good explanations for me when I get there because right now I'm not feeling very understanding at the moment."

Straightening up, I run a hand through my hair. "Would you believe I lost track of time?"

"Nice try." He sighs. "Look, sit tight. We'll be right there."

"Oh, hey, Darry," I say fast, before he can hang up.

"What, Ponyboy?"

"Can you bring me some shoes?"

OoO

Today - 8:13am

I see him the second we step off the elevator. On the opposite side of the hallway, Pony's stretched out on the row of plastic waiting room chairs. He's yawning. The whole scenario reminds me too much of the hospital after Windrixville.

Although, the need to throttle my MIA brother is still great.

Two-Bit lets out a whoop and starts running towards him. Soda sucks in a breath as he sideswipes a nurse, causing her to drop her charts. She gives him a glare and then fixes it on us.

"Idiot," Soda mutters but then takes off too, loping down the hall. Pony waves and then Soda catches him up in a hug. He draws back abruptly, wrinkling his nose. "You smell awful, kiddo," he says as I approach.

My brother looks awful too. He has that jittery look of someone who's stayed up all night and can't fall asleep. His nose and the tips of his ears are bright red from the cold and his feet are wet and grimy. The socks brown. The arm of his jacket is ripped, something grayish wrapped around his bicep.

"Here," I say, giving Pony the sneakers I brought along. He says thanks, sitting back down to put on the shoes. "You want to start explaining things?" I ask. "Like why my truck was left at the junkyard, for starters."

Soda crosses his arms, stern-faced for once in his life. "Yeah. I'd like to know the story too."

Shamefaced, Pony opens his mouth and starts talking.

OoO

Today - 8:42am

I give my brothers the half-truth version of the night, leaving out the bar fight, the stolen truck and the gun. Everything else I spill. Steve arrives halfway through my story. He leans back against the wall, snorting at various parts. Finally, I stop and say, "You want to shut up?"

"I don't believe any of it."

I scowl. "Yeah, and I'm here at the hospital for kicks." He just shrugs.

"Well, I, for one," Two-Bit begins, "wonders who wouldn't want to hang out here? With the sweet, sweet smell of bleach and ammonia in the air, it's enough to get me to come back time and time again."

Darry's angry face morphs into a frown and then surprise when I tell them about Joe's death wish. He rubs his hands on the knees of his jeans. "You can't…"

"What?"

"Well, you can't help everyone, kiddo." Darry looks at me closely. "It's a nice thought but…"

"Not everyone. But what about the ones who ask?"I give him a quick grin before resuming my story.

When I finish, skipping the part about Joe drugging me, instead ending with a night of fishing, Darry's squinting at me, his mouth in a tight line. "Aren't you forgetting a few things, Pone?"

"Like what?"

"A stolen truck, maybe?"

I give a start. "How'd you know about that?"

"I ran into Rachel at the saloon."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Darry points at me. "What about pulling a gun on Hal Boyle?" Soda laughs and then cuts it short, trying to look solemn as Darry gives him a frown. "What happened with that?" Darry asks.

"That's another long story." Avoiding Darry's glare, I rub my face in my hands. My arm gives a throb. "Can I tell you later? I'm just really tired right now." I glance at Darry, lower my voice. "I'm really, really sorry about all this, Darry."

"You shoulda called us," he says.

"I'm sorry…I kept getting…distracted…"

"It still ain't okay, Pone," Soda says. "We were running around half-crazed lookin for you." Steve pulls out a blade and starts picking at his nails.

"I know." I bite my lip. "I didn't mean to make you worry. I'm sorry…" I trail off as the doctor approaches, carrying a chart.

Darry stands, whispers. "We ain't done here."

"Yeah, don't I know it," I hiss back. Darry's probably going to make me pay for this for the next five years.

Settling himself in front of us, the doctor clears his throat. He looks us all over, raising an eyebrow at me, and then deciding Darry's the leader, says, "I'm Doctor Ruben. Are you family of Joseph Moser?"

"Joseph?"Darry looks around and then steps back. "No, no, he's – this – here—" Darry shoves me forward. "Talk to him."

"Is he okay?" I ask the doctor. "He's not dead, is he?" My voice comes out small.

"Dead? No, no, not dead." The doctor clears his throat again. "It seems…it looks worse than it is."

"What does that mean?"

"We misdiagnosed on his last visit."

"You what?"

"He has a severe peptic ulcer."

I blink. "Not cancer."

"No, son. Not cancer."

"What?" My head feels like it's going to explode. Any relief I should feel is replaced by exasperation at the doctor's mistake.

"Yes, um, his ulcer is severe but treatable…"

"Treatable? Are you kidding me? He was going to…" I raise my arm, wanting to hit something and Soda leaps forward. He grabs me, holding me still. I let out a whimper as he squeezes the arm that's been shot.

"Pone?" Soda questions.

The doctor stops speaking and stares at me. At my arm. He takes his glasses off. "What happened to your arm, son?"

"Nothing," I say, knowing my face is white. "It's nothing."

"You don't look so good, Pone," Two-Bit says, raising a rusty brow. Dr. Ruben peers closer. Darry's frowning, trying to get a good look as well. With all eyes on me, I blush.

"Son," Ruben says, putting the pieces together, "Have you been shot?"

"Well…" There's no getting out of this, so I decide to come clean. "Shot really isn't the right definition to use…"

"Ponyboy!" Soda yelps.

"You should let me check that out, Ponyboy. It could be infected and should probably be treated…" Ruben glances at Darry. "Mr. Curtis…"

I turn to Sodapop. "Soda, I'm fine. The gun went off and—"

Darry looks pissed. "What?"

"I just got grazed, it's nothing ser—"

Stone-faced, Darry turns to the doctor. "Admit him."

"What?" the doctor and I say simultaneously. Dr. Ruben clicks his pen. "Darry, no…" I try to worm away from my brothers, eyeing the elevator.

Pointing at me, Darry bellows, "Admit him, tie him up, give him drugs – do anything you have to do to make him sit still for just a goddamn minute."

"Wait a minute," Steve says, eyeing my arm. "Is that a shammy?"

OoO

Today - 10:13am

"I don't believe you," I say, shaking my head. I pour Pony a cup of water. "I really don't believe you. Duct tape? Are you familiar with the concept of infection?" Soda chuckles quietly from his spot in the corner.

Pony scowls but takes the water. He shifts in his bed, scratches the clean bandage wrapped around his arm. The wound is now sanitized and stitched up nice and tight. Pony's eyes are glossy from the painkillers the nurses have given him. He can leave later this afternoon but right now I want to keep him in that bed.

"We were planning to clean it up later," he mutters.

"When? When gangrene set in?"

"You gotta give it to him, Dar," Soda says. "A little gunshot didn't slow him down. He even managed to go fishing." Soda and Pony share a smug smile.

I roll my eyes at their easy camaraderie. "I don't believe either of you."

OoO

Today - 11:49am

"So you landed yourself in here too?"

I look up from the magazine Soda's brought me. Wrinkle my nose. "Yeah, on accident."

"There's no such thing as an accident."

"Why," I say, raising my eyes to the ceiling, "am I not surprised you believe that." Joe settles himself in the chair next to me. "I hear congratulations are in order," I tell him. "You know, with you not dying anymore."

Joe looks embarrassed. "Yeah. I owe you, Ponyboy." I wave a hand. "No, I really do," Joe says. I owe you my life and another bottle of Jack Daniels."

My stomach recoils. "I'll pass."

"I mean, I'm just glad you hit me with the truck. If you hadn't, I probably would have left this morning still planning to off myself."

"I thought you said I didn't hit you with the truck."

"I lied."

"I thought you had an epiphany."

"Lied about that too."

"Damn you, Joe." I shake my head. "You're going to give me an ulcer."

He rattles the bottle of pills he has in his hand. "Got a cure for that." Easy silence falls over the room. I tug at the blanket across my lap.

"So what will you do now?" I ask, anxious. I feel like I've known Joe my entire life, instead of just spending one night with him. It's like saying goodbye to an old friend, which I don't really want to do.

"Go back to work," Joe says. "Bum around town. Maybe look you up from time to time since I know where you live."

I smile.

"Pony," Joe whispers conspiratorially. "Where'd you leave the truck?"

"Parked it down the block at the bowling alley."

"Good." Joe nods with approval. "Let the cops find it."

The door opens and we both turn. Joe shifts in his chair as Darry appears in the room. "You must be the brother." Joe squints. "The oldest one. The meaner one." Joe nods at me. "Am I right?"

Darry crosses the room fast. "And you must be the sonofabitch who kidnapped my brother."

Joe nudges my arm. "He's a real firecracker, ain't he?"

I face palm. "Joe this is Darry, Darry, Joe," I say. "Play nice." Darry's eyes burn but regretfully he sticks a hand out. Joe rises from the chair and they shake.

"You're lucky you're in the hospital," Darry says, staring at Joe, who's in his hospital gown and a pair of jeans. "If you weren't I'd knock your block off for getting my brother caught up in this mess."

Wounded, Joe turns to me. "You told him I shot you?" Joe hisses before I can tell him to shut up.

"You shot him?" Darry says, his fists clenching up.

"I'm gonna go," Joe says. "I'm assuming you still want to have words with your little brother here and you really should based on last night…"

Darry's clenching his jaw. "You better believe it," he says.

"Thanks a lot," I holler at Joe as he's leaving.

The door swings shut and Darry looks down at me. "You're grounded."

"But—but I'm 18."

"I don't give a shit. You're still grounded." Scowling, I cross my arms. Darry shakes his head, frustrated. "Ponyboy, that guy is tro—"

The door pops back open. Joe sticks his head in the room. He grins and finger-guns me. "Ponyboy?"

"What?" I nearly shout.

"Same time next week?"

OoO

Yay! It's over. Thanks for reading and reviewing so, so much. I hope you enjoyed this fun, little story and that it was as crazy and funny as I hoped it to be.

Pardon any typos.

Everyone have a safe and happy new year.

XO,
Feisty