A Brother's Devotion
I don't own the Outsiders. I am merely playing in the sandbox of the wonderful world of greasers.
Chapter 2- Eradicate
~Darry's POV~
I ran my hand over my head as I filled my coffee cup again, at the small coffee station, the little sugar bowls spilled, intermixed with the stunted little throw-away straws some Soc must have invented because they were too damn lazy to wash the spoons they used to stir their coffee with. I smiled a little at the thought of a Soc actually inventing something useful to greasers. What an idea.
I was trying to stay awake along enough to last out the most recent spin of event that had been thrown at us for god-knows what reason. This hands-out topped all others as the most hellish week of my life. I thought of my youngest brother, lying in a cold hospital bed two floors above, his vitals kept track of by a series of plastic boxes. Sodapop stood watchful guard over Pony. I knew he would rather die than see his little brother hurting, which was exactly what was happening. Pony was hurting, bad. And I could do nothing but watch as my family fell apart. This whole damn situation was severely messed up.
Walking away from the coffee machine, I sat down at one of counters in the hospital cafeteria, the stool creaking loudly as I gingerly settled into it. Looking around, I inhaled the heavenly steam off my drink, trying to regain some of my energy. It was almost empty, save for the poor bastard running this place and a few stragglers, also huddled over cups of coffee, desperate for the caffeine fix. But it was only about 3 A.M. or so, understandably. Placing the steaming cup of brew on the table, I buried my face between my hands, trying to rub out the worries that crowded my head that made my head throb and my vision blur.
Yesterday-before Pony went to the Hospital….
Soda and I were in the bedroom he and Pony shared, hovering over our sick little brother. We had frantically carried him home last night after Dally died, after Pony blacked out. It had taken us two hours of tears, and yelling matches with some nosy fuzz before we were allowed to leave the "crime scene" as they had the nerve to call it. We had to leave Dal there, alone, with the nosy police men and spinning lights and their cold hearts. Away from people who cared, who didn't want to see him die young and hurting and alone under a single light on a dark, wet street in a JD neighborhood. He was 17, for fuck's sake. He should have had the chance to grow up and grow old, get a job and have a picket-fenced house and kids and a family who loved him. But he never would. Just like Tim and the Brumely boys, who cared nothing further than the next drug bust or rumble.
That hurt almost as bad as when Pony collapsed, his head hitting the ground with a sickening crack as my world crumbled. It was bad enough that the world had seen fit to get rid of Johnny and Dally in the same night, but worse that Pony had finally cracked. He had reached his breaking point. It had been almost a whole day since he fell, and I didn't think he was getting any better. He seemed to be getting paler and more restless as the hours dragged on. Christ, now I wished I had taken the first-aid class at the Y instead of the gymnastics course. Maybe then Pony wouldn't look like he was on death's doorstep. Maybe I could help him, instead of trying to make him drink and mopping his head with a tattered washcloth. Soda looked at me, his dark eyes serious, a deep frown marring his handsome face. He ran a gentle hand over Pony's forehead, his fingers ghostly white in the moonlight streaming through the open window, the cool air washing in, making me shiver. We had opened it in hopes it might bring Ponyboy's fever down, but so far it had done nothing but turn Soda an' me into popsicles. Pony shuddered, his head turning side to side, muttering uneasily as he tossed, twisting his bedsheets.
"Dar, he don't look so good an' he still feels pretty hot," Soda said quietly, passing a cool washcloth over Pony's sweating head. Pony flinched away from the sodden cloth, his shudders turning into full-out shaking, his teeth chattering. His lips were tainted blue with cold, and I couldn't get one of the deeper cuts on his forehead to stop bleeding, no matter what I did. A huge bruise stretched the left side of his face, along with a cut lip and a black eye. He was bad off. I was no doctor, I knew that. Hell, Soda knew that. And Soda usually didn't know serious stuff if it pranced in front of him, naked and singing the ABC's.
I heard frantic footsteps thudding heavily on the porch and I tensed, my eyes flickering up to meet Soda' as he heard the door creak opens. I motioned for him to stay, and he nodded, grasping Pony's hand and watching with tense eyes as I picked up his old baseball bat, holding it lightly in my right hand. I crept to the door, pulling it open a crack and peeking out warily. The last thing I expected, as usual, happened. I should be used to it by now. I expected a mugger, the fuzz, anything but a bawling Two-Bit to come flying into the house, the screen door nearly ripped off its hinges in his haste.
"It's-my-fault-rumble-Ponyboy-fever-aspirin-my fault- But I promised!" he blubbered, flinging himself at me. I dropped the baseball bat in surprise as Two-Bit threw himself at me, his shoulders shaking. I tried to comfort our hysterical friend. Soda, mouth open, watched this go down, his eyes stunned. Clearly, this was the last thing he expected, too. Not letting go of Pony's hand, he grabbed the washcloth and began sponging off his head again, whispering to him quietly, still keeping his eyes fixed on Two-Bit. We weren't strong enough to deal with anyone else freaking out. We needed Steve and Two-Bit strong. For us.
"Ah, Two-Bit?" I said gently, wincing as I tried to pry him off me without freaking him out any further. Glory, the kid was stronger than he looked. If he held on any tighter I'd need a blasted crowbar to remove him. "I kinda need my ribs. Now, what about Pony?" I asked, leading him to an old milk crate. He looked up at me through red-rimmed, watery gray eyes, then back down at his hands, torn about something. Clearly, something was eating him alive. That was surprising, considering Two-Bit didn't even have a conscious when it came to wasting Socs or stealing. I knew he had stolen his butterfly knife without blinking an eye, and I had been in on bull sessions with him than I cared to admit, and even I cringed at some of the things he had done. But this hit closer to home. Pony was his little buddy, I knew. Two-Bit liked to come off tough and uncaring sometimes but I knew he was fiercely loyal to the gang. And he had the biggest heart of anybody I knew, except my brothers.
"It's my fault," Two-Bit whispered, dropping his head into his hands. "He didn't feel well, and-and I promised not to tell you, Darry. He said he was okay, that he'd take some painkillers and be done with it. I'm so sorry, Darry. It's my fault the kid is- is…broken" Two-Bit said with all traces of humor and joking dead from his voice, his shoulders hunched. Never, in all the time I had known him had he looked so small, so helpless. It scared me something awful. Soda's head snapped up at this, the light in his eyes deadly. Even I knew not to mess with Soda about Pony. He would do anything for his kid brother.
"He. Is. NOT. Broken," Soda said; his voice lethal as he finally dropped Pony's hand, striding over to stand nose to nose with Two-Bit, his hands curled into fists clenching and unclenching with his uneven breath, his nose flaring. The cloth landed, forgotten, on the broken rocking chair. I knew he was thinking about that damned Soc that had gotten hold of Pony, who kicked his head and ribs without mercy, not even caring that he was still a kid. He was thinking about the dreams that used to torture him when mum and dad died, the dreams that left his screams ripping the night, his scared, wet eyes turning to me for reassurance. Hell, I was still a kid myself. I didn't know what to do. All I knew right now is that Soda was dangerously close to his own breaking point. I had to hold him back. I knew that. I had to be strong, again. When would it be my turn to be the weak one?
"He's not-he can't be.." Soda stuttered again, sounding a lot less sure of himself. He turned to me, eyes glistening. "He can't be broken…" Soda sobbed, crumpling by the bed, laying his head on Pony's arm, his tears making Pony's arm shine. "I can't take it if he is…god, Dar. What happened to us?" He cried, tears streaming down his cheeks as he touched Pony everywhere he could reach, reassuring himself that he was still there, that his heart was still beating. But for how much longer if we didn't get him to a hospital?
I grabbed Soda, held him tight as he shook with sobs. "It's okay, little buddy." I said, being brave for all of us. I gathered Pony, tugging Soda along with me gently. He followed, no more fight in him than a rag doll. Trudging out the hallway, I swiped my keys off the table, juggling the limp boy over one shoulder, my keys in my hand. I spoke over my shoulder to Two-Bit, who was following us like a lost puppy, his expression dazed as he stumbled along, tripping over his feet.
"Two-Bit, go home. Get some sleep. I have a feeling you're gonna need it," I sighed, locking the door behind us and flipping off the porch lights, motioning for Soda to open the gate. He did so, his motions mechanical, lifeless. Hopping into the car Soda opened his arms for Pony to be put into them, his eyes protective and fierce as they looked at him, limp and dazed. They spoke volumes about his love for our little brother. Opening the truck door, rusty paint flakes fluttering to the wet road, I loaded Pony into the car, onto Soda's lap. Soda grasped him, cradling him to his chest, stroking his matted hair. Pone tossed again, muttering Soda's name quietly. Bending his head, Soda talked back to him quietly, his words blending together in a soothing hum, his eyes intent on his little brother's face, red-gold hair mixing with blonde as Soda tilted his head over Pony's. I felt my mouth tighten slightly as I looked over at my brothers, feeling left out. Why wasn't he crying out my name? Didn't he love me as well? I shook this thought off quickly. He was delirious. He didn't know what he was saying. I got in the driver's seat and turned on the car as it rumbled to life. We pulled out, and headed for the hospital. The drive felt hours long, instead of the fifteen minutes it really was. Pony murmured, tossing restlessly. Soda clamped a gentle, but firm hand to his head to keep him from hurting himself further on the window.
"Dar- Darry. Darry? We're there." Soda said, his worried voice yanking me from my trace. I pulled my hands from the steering wheel, opening the door and turning to grab Pony. Soda was on the other side of the car, trying to pull Pony out by himself. His elbow hit the frame the same time as his head did, and he almost dropped Pony.
"Ouch! Jesus, that smarts," he cussed, holding his head with one hand while supporting Pone with the other. I snorted quietly, trying not to anger Soda. He looked up with a grudging smile.
"You can laugh," He said quietly, fighting a small smile. "It's kinda funny." Coming around to his side of the car, I dragged Pony out, grunting quietly at his 100-plus pounds. He was still light and bony, but he was still somewhat sturdy. Slinging him over my shoulder, I locked the truck and headed into the hospital to save our little brother. To save our family.
Ponyboy was hurt.
I knew that.
Sodapop was dying with every minute Pony was here.
I knew that.
We were in a hellhole with no way out.
I knew that.
I couldn't eradicate the past, couldn't save my brothers alone.
I knew that.
But that didn't mean I had to live with it. Throwing a dollar on the counter, I stood up, leaving my now stone-cold coffee where it was. Not looking back, I started walking up the stairs, walking back to my family, back to where I belonged.
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I hope you liked Chapter 2!!!!! The story is going to be about what Sodapop does to the Soc that hurts Ponyboy, fyi....
i got the idea from this quote:
"you got a concussion from getting kicked in the head- Soda saw it. He landed all over that Soc, I've never seen gim that mad. I think he could have whipped anyone, in the state he was in." It was one of those what-if kinda things, and I decided to just go with it. Please, no flames. Advice and ideas are welcome, and i'll credit you for them...I'm trying to think of a name for the Soc that hurts Pony....any ideas?
thanks! kait