Sorry I haven't updated in so long! I've been distracted by several addicting books and a series of shiny things ;) But, here's more. Finally.

Heather swayed dangerously on her feet, and I ran around the couch and caught her just before she fell. Lowering her gently to the floor, I could see the deep cuts that shredded her face, the dark bruises covering her skin like a disease.

"Heather? Heather, can you hear me?"

She let out a strangled breath, managing to say, "Yes."

Darry and Soda were beside me now. Darry knelt down on her other side, checking the cuts on her face and arms with gentle hands. He carefully lifted her arm from her waist, and I grimaced when I saw the bloodstain stretched across almost her entire front. He peeled up just the bottom of her sweater to see the damage.

A long, deep slash stretched from her right hip to just above the bottom of her left ribcage. Blood still pounded out, the sickening, acrid smell of it filling my senses. The edges were purple and yellow, infected. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Soda putting a hand over his mouth, closing his eyes, the color draining from his face. He looked like I felt.

I gently pushed her hair from her face. My fingers came back red. "What happened?" I asked her.

She coughed, still trying to steady her breathing. "It w-was… J-Jamie… It was Jamie all… all over again."

I stiffened, remembering what she'd told me of her little brother. "Dad was livid. He came at us with a broken bottle…"

Without thinking I scooped her up in my arms, noting the pool of blood where her head was, and carried her out the door. My brothers didn't question me, just followed me to the driveway and into the truck. I laid her carefully in the pickup bed, then jumped in myself as Darry started the engine. Soon we were racing down the street, me cushioning Heather's head in my lap.

I was thankful there weren't any cops around tonight, or we'd definitely get pulled over. The wind roared in my ears and whipped my hair around, for once not greased up. I shivered.

I remembered the night of the rumble, when Dally and I raced to the hospital only to see Johnny die. It had been a night just like this. I pushed the memory in the back of my mind. I'd lost two friends that night, and I didn't plan to lose a third now.

"Pony…"

I looked down. Her eyes were only half open, searching blindly for me. They were grey, vacant… lifeless. It scared me.

"I'm here, sweetheart. I'm here." I murmured, holding her head gently in my hands.

"Ponyboy…" she coughed, her breath coming harder and harder, "Ponyboy, I'm sorry… so sorry…"

"Shh, baby, it's okay. You'll be okay."

But her eyes slowly shut and she didn't move again.

-0-0-0-

The doctors said she was just unconscious. When we made it to the hospital I was crying even though I was trying real hard not to show the tears. They rushed her away into another room. I tried to follow, but they wouldn't let me. It took Darry and Soda and several doctors to calm me down and pull me away from the hallway they took Heather down.

I tried to sit while we waited, but I couldn't stay still. I stood up and started pacing back and forth, back and forth. It wasn't until Darry told me to calm down that I realized I was nearly running.

I was so scared. So worried. I think the only time I'd ever been this scared before was when Johnny killed Bob. Hell, only the dream surpassed this kind of fear.

It seemed like forever before someone came out to talk to us. The doctor said Heather would probably make it. She had a bad concussion, four broken ribs, several infected cuts, and major blood loss. He asked where they could find her family, saying she would die unless someone donated blood, and her family would have the same blood type. I convinced him that it would take to long to get her father here.

"Well, sir, what do you suggest then?" The doctor asked.

So they went through with my proposal. They took me into another room and stuck a long needle in my forearm. It didn't hurt, just looked weird when the started pumping out blood into a little bag hanging from a pole. They said the wouldn't take much, but it sure looked like a lot. Still, I wondered if it was enough.

The nurse took some with an eye dropper and put it under a microscope. "B negative," she said, then pulled back and smiled at me. "It's a match."

They had to send in Soda to help me back to the waiting room because I couldn't walk on my own. I was too dizzy. He guided me to a bench where I curled up and shut my eyes. The cool plastic felt good against my head and helped stop the floor from tilting under me.

Sleep never came.

-0-0-0-

It was nearly nine o' clock when the doctors came back out. I'd regained my balance when the sun came up, and since then Darry and Soda and I had been talking. We knew that after this, the social workers would get involved. If they met Heather's father… she'd be out of that home faster than you could say 'Bubba loves trucks'.

I knew that would have been good for her, to get away from her dad. But they would take her to an orphanage or to some distant relative who lived far away from Tulsa.

Far away from me.

So we decided we'd lie. If we were convincing enough, we might be able to gain custody of her.

But anyway, the doctor who'd talked to us before came up to us, a clipboard bouncing at his hip. "She's waking up." he said, "She should be alright."

I didn't even wait for an okay. I darted down the hall and into the room I somehow knew she was in.

The room was almost blindingly white, smelling stronger of bleach and latex gloves than the hallway or the lobby. Heather lay on a bed in the center of the room, and I almost got sick looking at all the tubes and wires stuck in her. A monitor in the corner beeped on sync with a jagged line that bounced up and down the screen repetitively. Her heart beat.

I walked to her side quietly, more than a little nervous. I'd heard of people who got in really bad accidents before and couldn't remember anything when they woke up. Would she remember me?

Her eyes stayed closed when I approached her. She looked especially pale right then, making the scars and bruises stand out even more. I remembered when I was in Windrixville with Johnny, how he looked so much younger when he was asleep. I remembered nights when I couldn't sleep and I'd see Sodapop next to me, the moonlight making him look six instead of sixteen.

Heather didn't look younger. She looked dead.

I pulled up a plastic chair from the corner and took her hand in mine. "Heather?"

Her eyelids fluttered, then she turned to me. They were more jade than gold today, but at least they were open. "Hey," she whispered.

I exhaled slowly, relieved, and brought her hand to my lips. "Oh God," I murmured, my eyes closed, "I was so scared…"

I could hear the forced smile in her voice. "I'm sorry. But I'm okay now, it'll be fine."

"Maybe." I rested my head on her bed, my fingers tracing the veins on her hands.

"Don't worry," she breathed, "I'll be out of here in no time."

I didn't tell her they might take her away. Didn't tell her that we might be separated. I figured she had too much to think about as it is. Instead I asked, "Do you remember what happened?"

She was quiet for a while. Nurses padded quietly in and out, checking on machines and tubes hooked into Heather. Darry and Soda still hadn't showed up; I guessed they were trying to convince the doctor we were her only family, that we were the best place for her to go.

I looked up when I heard her laughing mirthlessly. "God, I'm so stupid."

Again, sorry for the uber long wait... I'll try to post more as soon as I can, but I'm going on a week long trip and I'm not sure if I'll have access to a computer. By the way, I plan to write the next chapter from Heather's POV, just because it'll be easier to explain.

Please review!