Disclaimer: The Outsiders belongs to S.E. Hinton. "Hallelujah" was originally written by Leonard Cohen, and has been covered by a whole bunch of people. The version that became the fourth most played song on my iTunes while writing this chapter is the Jeff Buckley one ;)
"This fic/chapter is being posted as part of "Good Fic Day," an effort to raise the quality of writing here. We hope to encourage more writers to improve the quality of their own fan fiction - spell check, grammar check, keep the gang in character, outline, plot and don't use Mary Sues. Good fan fiction requires effort, and we would like to encourage other writers to rise to the challenge of producing better fan fiction, not only for our readers, but for S.E. Hinton, who created the wonderful book we are trying to honour."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sunday, January 29th, 1967
Well, baby I've been here before,
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor,
You know, I used to live alone before I knew ya.
Looking down at himself, Steve realised he should have showered and changed first. Dried blood caked his hands and arms, the bottom of his black T-shirt was streaked with blood from where he'd tried to wipe his hands, and even the knees of his jeans were stained. The fact that he'd managed to wipe the blood from his face wouldn't mean a damn thing.
He took one last drag of his smoke before flicking it out the window and glancing at the piece of shit clock in his dashboard. 12:17am. Rubbing his knuckles, he wished time wasn't so important. He wished he could go home and shower, or at least wash his hands and change his shirt. He wished he had more cigarettes, because he'd almost finished the half pack he'd had left during his drive. He especially wished he didn't have to do what he was about to do. It made him feel awful, but there was no one else to do it. It was all up to him, and he knew he wouldn't have it any other way.
He climbed out of the car, swearing at the rain that was beginning to fall, and made his way up to the house. It might have been after midnight, but lights were still on inside and there was no car in the driveway. Only one person was home and he knew they wouldn't be asleep.
Steve paused when he reached the front door. Taking his comb out of his pocket, he ran it through his hair, ignoring the faint red smudges he left on it and the shaking of his hands. He felt sick, but he knocked on the door, his heart pounding a mile a minute.
Anna opened the door a moment later, and despite the situation, Steve couldn't help but notice how good she looked. She was still dressed - wearing a skirt that was a little longer than he would have liked - her hair was loose around her shoulders, and her face was free of any makeup. He thought she looked beautiful, and he suddenly hated himself for too many reasons.
"Steve -" Her voice caught as she looked at him, eyes widening at the visible blood. "You're hurt?"
He shook his head. "It ain't my blood."
"It's not …" Her eyes glazed over for a moment and he actually thought she might faint. Her breathing became low and she paled. He stepped forward, just in case.
She blinked and focused on him again. "Danny?"
He nodded. "He got hurt pretty bad. He's - the ambulance came just as I left."
Her lip trembled and he prayed to everything that she wouldn't cry. He couldn't hug her with her brother's blood all over his clothes. She didn't cry, though; she closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, her gaze flicked past him and back again.
"Will you take me to the hospital?"
That was half the reason he was there. "Yeah."
She quickly slipped into some shoes she'd left by the door, and followed him outside. Not a word was said as they hurried to his car, Steve opening the door for her before going to the driver's side.
Stealing a glance at her as he started his car, he hated himself for being the one to tell her. There was no way he was going to let anyone else do it, though. He supposed, technically, it should have been Phillips; he was her boyfriend, after all. But Tim had sent Phillips and the rest of his boys to their downtown meeting place with orders not to leave until he said so.
Then he'd looked Steve right in the eyes and said, "Someone's gotta tell the kid."
He hadn't been talking about Ponyboy, that was for sure. Steve had just nodded in reply.
"Tell me what happened," Anna said as he drove.
Steve took a breath. He didn't want to - he didn't want to tell her a damn thing - but she deserved to know. So he told her everything he could. He told her that Danny had been shot by someone who had decided to bring along a weapon, but didn't say one word about all the blood. He told her that the River Kings had run right away, but not how scared their side had looked upon seeing Danny. He told her that when he left, Danny was alive, but didn't point out that he was talking in past tense because there was a chance he wasn't anymore.
There had been an awful lot of blood.
A sob escaped her at the mention of Danny being shot, but when he glanced at her, Steve was glad to see her eyes dry. With nothing else to say, they rode in silence the rest of the way - Steve sneaking looks at her when he could, and Anna gripping tightly at the seat she was sitting on - until pulling into the hospital parking lot a few minutes later.
He hated hospitals, he really did. He figured there weren't many people who actually liked them, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he really fucking hated hospitals. They smelled funny, and they were too clean - too clean for him to feel comfortable in. And he didn't feel comfortable or clean.
No one wanted to help them. Even with Steve covered in blood, and Anna in some kind of silent hysterics, no one paid them any attention.
"Where is everyone?" she finally cried, running her hands through her hair.
He didn't know what to say, but wanted to calm her somehow. He reached out for her, stopping as he took in his hands. If things didn't turn out well, the last thing he wanted was Anna to have her brother's blood on her clothes.
She looked at him. "Someone has to help us. Please, find someone."
There was desperation in her voice, and as torn as he was about leaving her alone, Steve was ready to storm the halls until someone came to help them. Finally, before he took a single step, a nurse came up to them.
"Anna?"
She spun around at the sound of her name. "Mrs. Phillips."
"What are you doing here?" The nurse looked at Steve and frowned. "Oh dear, are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," he said. He waited for Anna to say something but she seemed at a loss for words again. "It's Danny. Can you find him? Let us know how he is?"
Mrs. Phillips - who Steve now assumed was Henry's mother - looked back at Anna, placing a hand on her arm. "Come with me to the waiting room, and then I'll go see what I can find out, okay?"
Anna nodded and looked at Steve pleadingly. He could see the question in her eyes, and followed without a second thought. He hadn't wanted to be the one to tell her, and he sure as hell didn't want to stick around in the goddamn hospital, but at the same time there wasn't anywhere else he'd rather be. It made no sense to him, but there was no way he was leaving her alone.
Following Anna and the nurse, Steve's gaze flittered around the hospital - all white walls and fluorescent lighting. It was enough to give him a headache. Nothing about this place was good. It didn't matter to him that people's lives were saved here; the entire building was depressing, and this was exactly where Johnny had died.
Minutes later, they were left alone in the waiting room; a few minutes after that, another nurse brought Steve a wet cloth to clean his hands and arms; and fifteen minutes after that, Steve began getting antsy. He hated having to sit around and do nothing like he was, but it was all he could do. He supposed he could get up and pace with Anna, but someone needed to stay calm - or at least seem calm.
He wasn't calm. He wasn't freaking out, but he sure as hell wasn't calm. If Danny Harris was dead … he couldn't even imagine what that would do to Anna. She'd been a mess after her grandpa died - losing Danny would just about kill her. Sure, she was tough, but not that tough. She loved her brother more than anything.
Looking at her, he wished she would just sit down and let him look after her. He wanted to help, in any damn way he could, and now that his hands were clean, he could. His shirt was streaked in blood, but that wasn't visible and that had to count for something. But he knew Anna; there was nothing that would comfort her except finding out how Danny was.
Steve just hoped finding out how Danny was would be a comfort.
He almost doubted it; the guy had been shot, and there had been so much blood. Steve had seen the wounds, he had been the first one at Danny's side doing whatever he could to keep the blood in, and had heard the frustration in Tim's usually calm voice when one of his boys had questioned his decision to call for help.
He knew it wasn't good.
Leaning his elbows on his knees, he watched Anna continue to pace. She hadn't said a word to him since asking him to find some help, but he didn't expect her to. He just hoped she knew he wasn't staying out of any kind of obligation. He wasn't there because she was alone, he wasn't there to repay her for coming to him after Dally and Johnny died, and he wasn't there because Phillips wasn't.
He was just there. Just in case she needed him.
It surprised him how well she was taking things. Anna could keep calm as well as anyone he knew, but the most awful situations - the ones that really hurt her - had her in a mess. Her grandpa dying, finding out Evie had kissed him at work one night, and when she had found him outside her house, wanting to apologise. She hadn't been able to hold back her emotions those times. It worried him that she was doing it now, and he suddenly wondered if how Anna was feeling was how Pony felt when waiting for word on Dally and Johnny after the fire.
She seemed to sense his gaze on her and stopped mid-step. She lifted her head and looked at him - eyes wide, hair messy, and looking sick. His heart sank. Her eyes looked nothing but dazed and he had no clue what she was thinking or feeling. It was always times he needed to be able to read her that he couldn't. When she finally spoke, her words cut right through him.
"What if he dies?"
Fuck.
He stood. "Anna -"
Her lip trembled again. "We've been fighting for weeks, and about something so stupid." She took a shuddering breath. "God, Steve. What if he dies?"
"He won't die." Telling her that went against everything he believed in, but at that moment he just couldn't be honest with her. He had to give her some hope, even if turned out to be a lie and she never spoke to him again. He had to get that dazed look out of her eyes.
She shook her head, not looking at him. "You don't know that."
"Hey, c'mon." He cupped her face in his hands. "Anna, look at me."
She did. "He might die."
Now he couldn't tell her otherwise, not while she was looking into his eyes like that. Instead, he promised her the only thing he could. "It'll be okay. Whatever happens, it'll be okay."
He'd make sure of it. He couldn't do a damn thing about Danny, but whatever happened, he'd look after her. Before she could say anything to him, Tim arrived. Steve dropped his hands, half-expecting Phillips to come in next.
"Where is he?" he asked, looking between Steve and Anna. "Is he alive?"
Steve wanted to hit the bastard for asking such a stupid question in front of Anna. She hadn't seen it. Sure it was a fucking gunshot wound, but she didn't know just how bad it was. His knuckles itched and fists clenched, but Anna got there first.
She spun around to face Tim, hair flying and nothing but hatred in her eyes.
"This is all your fault," she spat, giving him a hard shove that barely moved him.
Tim frowned at her. "Hey -"
Anna slapped him. Steve had seen plenty of guys get slapped by girls - had even been slapped by Anna not so long ago - but none of them compared to when she slapped Tim. The crack was deafening in the quiet waiting room, and a pink tinge immediately spread over the left side of Tim's face. He looked at her in shock.
"If he dies, it's all on you," she said in a low voice. "You and your stupid gang shit. How could you let this happen? He's supposed to be your right hand man or whatever, isn't he? Doesn't that mean you should have his back, too?"
"I do have his back," Tim said.
"Then you should've stopped this from happening!"
This was the kind of outburst he had been expecting from Anna since he had told her about Danny. Some kind of blame, some hatred, and some outright fury. Though it still wasn't as bad as he'd expected.
Before Tim could say anything else, the nurse came back. Steve didn't know how these things worked, but hoped the calm expression on her face was relief, not some kind of detachment they had to have to work in a hospital.
"Anna?" she said.
Anna turned to look at her. "Did you find him?"
Mrs. Phillips ignored her question. "Is your father coming up?"
"I - I haven't …" She looked at Tim. It seemed no matter her anger at him, she still turned to Tim before Steve.
"I'll call him at work," Tim said.
Anna didn't give any indication she'd heard him other than looking back at Mrs. Phillips. "Did you find him?" she asked again.
Mrs. Phillips nodded. "I did. Normally I'd wait until a parent arrived to be with you before telling you anything, but under the circumstances -"
"Just tell me he's gonna be okay," Anna said, and Steve's stomach dropped at the hopeless tone she used.
"He's in surgery," Mrs. Phillips said. "The bullet hit a major artery in his shoulder and he's lost a lot of blood. They're doing everything they can, but we won't know any more for a while."
A chill went through Steve's body at those words. "They're doing everything they can to what?"
Mrs. Phillips' expression didn't change. "To save him."
All the life seemed to drain out of Anna as the nurse left. Tim followed quickly, mumbling something about calling someone. Silence filled the waiting room as Steve watched Anna. Her breath huffed out, her shoulders sagged, and her head lowered. He didn't know what to do. Danny could die, and Danny dying would be worse for her than anything else that had happened; her grandpa dying, Steve's cheating, her mom leaving - none of those would even compare.
He realised then that maybe that was why she wasn't freaking out as much as he expected her to be. Maybe this was all too much.
He moved to stand next to her, pushing her hair behind her ear. "Hey -"
"Don't." She pulled away as though he had burned her.
"Anna -"
She stepped back, not meeting his gaze. "Leave me alone."
"I just wanna help."
She shook her head, turning away. "Then leave."
Steve watched as she moved to sit on the other side of the waiting room, and Christ how he almost wished he couldn't see how she was feeling. She wouldn't look at him, but she didn't have to. Everything was on show now, and he hated all of it.
Her brother might die, and there was nothing Steve could say or do to make her feel better because he had seen it. He had seen the blood, and it didn't escape him that the only other time he had seen that much blood was when Dallas had died.
Running a hand through his hair, he glanced at the clock that read 1:35am, and sat back down in his chair.
XXXXX
Anna couldn't see properly. Everything was so damn white and bright. It hurt her eyes, and she had spent most of the night staring at the ground to get away from it. And to get away from everything else.
If she didn't have to see it, she didn't have to believe it, and not seeing or believing it was exactly what she needed. She could block out the heavy feeling of Henry's arm around her. She could block out the burn of Steve's gaze as he still sat in the waiting room with her. She could almost block out being in a hospital, waiting to see if Danny would live.
Her dad was talking to the doctor at that moment, and Anna wasn't sure she wanted to hear anything that came from that conversation. She wasn't blind; she had seen Steve's hands, arms, and T-shirt. There had been a lot of blood. There had been a lot of blood because Danny had been shot.
But so long as she could continue burying her face in her hands and staring at the green carpet or her own eyelids, she could forget. Forget that they were trying to keep him alive. Or at least try to forget. It wasn't as if she had anything else to keep her mind on - to keep her distracted.
If anything, she found herself unable to think many coherent thoughts at all. Her mind felt blank and heavy and she kind of liked it. It wasn't the time for such an empty state of mind, but she still wanted more of it. One thought had managed to filter its way through the fuzz, and the longer she waited to hear about Danny, the harder it was to push the thought away.
She remembered the pain in her chest after Grandpa Joe had died. Remembered feeling it when her dad first told her, feeling it later that night at Buck's, and feeling it every time she thought about him for months after. She didn't want that feeling again. She especially didn't want that feeling because Danny was dead.
Forcing back bile, she closed her eyes and slouched against the body next to her. Henry had turned up a while ago. She didn't know how or when; all she knew was she had been sitting on some bench in the waiting room when someone had sat next to her, wrapping her in their strong arms.
For a second - one stupid second - she had thought Steve had tried to comfort her again, despite her having told him to go. She had been ready to burst into tears and cry against him until she realised it hadn't been him. There had been no scent of the car oil that always lingered on his skin, mixing in with the soap and aftershave he used. Instead, the scent of rain had hit her, Henry's voice had been whispering in her ear, and her body had tensed even more.
Opening her eyes, she looked at Steve. He looked so handsome and calm. She wished she could hate him, but if it hadn't happened before then, it wasn't going to happen ever. He met her gaze, just like he had every time she had looked at him that night, but that didn't surprise her. What surprised her was that he was still there. Somewhere deep inside she knew it shouldn't surprise her - especially when that one thought of Grandpa Joe penetrated her mind - but she couldn't quite understand it
This time when she looked at him, and unlike every other time that night, she didn't look away. She stared into his blue eyes that held a mix of concern, warmth, and annoyance, and remembered the way he had kissed her, dulling her pain. The ache in her chest was already there, it hurt so damn bad, and she just wanted someone to make it better.
She looked away from him when her dad came back into the waiting room. Stan Harris might not be the jerk he once was, but he wasn't Danny. She couldn't tell by looking at him what the doctor had told him, but wasn't sure she wanted to. If Danny didn't make it - if he had died - she wouldn't have anyone. It was the thought that had been threatening her all night, and as the pain in her chest increased, she looked desperately at her dad, silently begging him to say it was going to be okay.
"He's gonna be fine." Her dad looked right at her when he said it, and Anna wasn't sure she had ever loved him more. "He's gonna be in here for a while, and on some heavy pain medication, but he'll be okay."
Anna buried her face in her hands, fighting the urge to cry in relief.
"Listen," Stan said, sitting next to her. "He's in recovery til morning, so we can come back and see him then, but for now I'm gonna head straight back to work, and I think you should go home. These hospital bills are gonna cost a fortune and we're gonna need the money, and you look like you need to sleep."
She didn't want to leave Danny, but couldn't stand to stay in the hospital any longer than she had to. "Okay."
"You're gonna be okay at home, yeah?"
She nodded; if Danny was going to be okay, she was going to be okay.
"Good. You think your boyfriend can give ya a ride home?"
Anna tensed at the word boyfriend, and didn't miss Steve's scowl, but nodded anyway. Ten minutes later, all of Danny's visitors had left the hospital, and Anna was on her way home with Henry.
But she didn't want to be in Henry's car with him. It was cold - the back window never went all the way up - it was big and loud, and it wasn't even that nice to look at. And most of all, Henry Phillips was not Steve Randle. After everything that had happened that night, she knew Steve should be the last thing on her mind. But, after everything that had happened that night, she knew Steve was who she needed.
He had come to her, telling her about Danny, before spending the rest of the night in a hospital waiting room with her. He had stayed the whole time - while she had been freaking out, when she had told him to get lost, and even when Henry had turned up. He had stayed. And she knew why.
"Anna?"
She looked at Henry, for the first time taking in the bruise forming on his jaw, and said nothing.
"You need me to come inside?" he asked.
Turning, she noticed they'd arrived at her house, and no, she really didn't want him to come inside. She didn't even want to go inside. What she wanted was … she didn't even know. It wasn't Henry, it wasn't Steve, it was something she couldn't even describe. Or maybe it was just her brother, at home in his own bed, having not been shot.
She shook her head. "No thanks."
Silence followed, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. Everything was too messed up for her to be worried about a bit of silence. Danny had been shot, she had slapped Tim, Steve had stayed. She closed her eyes, not wanting to deal with any of it.
"Listen, Anna," Henry said, and she opened her eyes to look at him. "I know my timing is awful, and if things hadn't turned out okay with Danny I wouldn't even consider saying this, but I can't keep doin' this with you."
"What do you mean?" She wasn't even sure she cared.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I mean, I saw every look you gave Randle tonight. I'm not angry because it's impossible for me to be angry at you, but if you're gonna go to him when I drive off, then I can't be with you." He sighed. "We're only official because you felt guilty for kissing him; I can't keep being your second choice.
Anna frowned, not saying anything.
"But," he continued, "if it's me you need - me you want - then I'll take back every word I just said. You know I wanna be with you, but I think we both know you want something different. Someone different."
Swallowing the lump in her throat, because apparently she did care, she opened her mouth to say something.
Henry stopped her. "Do you want me to come inside?"
She almost wished he was talking about coming inside for sex. At least then she would have a reason to say no - to maybe even be pissed at him. But he wasn't. He was talking about coming inside and doing whatever the hell she wanted him to do because he cared that much. There was nothing she could say to that. All she could do was shake her head and push back tears of frustration.
Henry sighed. "Okay … if you change your mind, or need anything at all, you know where to find me."
Technically, she had just dumped him without saying a damn word, and she still couldn't find her voice. Pushing her hair out of her face, she opened the door and climbed out into the rain.
XXXXX
Steve had showered and changed. Despite washing his hands at the hospital, it had been a relief to get out of the bloody clothes and wash himself properly. Getting dressed seemed pointless, but so did going to bed. He wouldn't be able to sleep - he knew it. Getting dressed and going to Soda's seemed like the best idea. No one would be up, but the door would be unlocked, and he'd feel a whole heap better at the Curtis house than his own.
He was drying his hair with his towel - knowing it would just get wet again when he ran to his car - when the knock at his window came. He froze, wondering if he was crazy enough to get his hopes up, because who the hell else would knock at his window at three-thirty in the morning? Turning, he strode over to the window, and lifted it.
Anna was standing there, her clothes completely soaked, her hair plastered to her forehead, and her whole body shivering.
"Can I come in?" she asked, through chattering teeth.
Shoving the window right up, Steve held out his hands and helped her in.
"Christ, Anna." He set her on her feet, closed the window, and pushed her wet hair out of her face. "You're soaked."
She nodded, lip trembling as tears began to fall. He didn't know what it had taken to make her finally break, but he quickly pulled her close. She fell against him - hands gripping his T-shirt, dripping water soaking his clean clothes, and body shaking against his. All he could do was wrap his arms around her and let her cry.
And he didn't give two shits about the water or his clothes. She could drip all over his bedroom if that's what she needed; he'd wait her out and do whatever the hell she wanted him to do. Her brother had almost died and he'd do anything to make her feel better.
Sobs racked her small body, and Steve's heart ached as he remembered Danny telling him he had spent an hour watching her cry. He wondered if her tears then were anything like they were now, and hoped to fucking God he hadn't hurt her that much.
It was when her soft lips press against his neck that he realised she had stopped crying. She was still shaking, still gripping his T-shirt, but her breathing was even and she was trailing kisses on his bare skin.
"Anna." Her name came out choked, and he pulled her back. "Whaddya doin'?"
"Danny - he could've … I need you to make it better, Steve," she whispered, and it was probably the most open thing she had ever said to him.
"Where's Phillips?" he asked. She didn't answer, only shook her head. "Anna?"
"Henry broke up with me."
Steve's mouth went dry. Surely that wasn't why she was there, why she had been crying. He wanted to be there for her, but not for that.
"He said - he said that if I was planning on coming to you after he dropped me off, then he couldn't see me anymore." She gave him a look he had never been able to say no to. "I need you, Steve, but if you don't want me - if you want me to go - I'll go back to him; I can't be alone, and I know he'll -"
"No." His hands gripped her waist probably tighter than they should have. "Don't go back to him."
They both knew he was talking about more than just that night.
"That's what I was hoping you would say," she whispered.
And then she kissed him. She kissed him and it was all soft lips and a desperate need he had only felt from her once before.
He decided very quickly that he was, in fact, crazy. Her arms were around his neck, her perfect curves pressed against him, and her tongue driving him mad, but he tried to stop her again. He tried to do the right thing.
When she kissed along his jaw, he told her to think about what she was doing. When she dragged his T-shirt up his willing arms, he told her that she was still angry at him, that she would regret it in the morning. When she began licking and nibbling a path down his neck while her fingers slinked down to his waistband, he told her in a strangled voice that doing this wasn't going to make her feel better.
But when she undid his jeans, fingers grazing the skin above his boxers - looking at him with still wet eyes and giving him that look - he kissed her, realising he'd been crazy for even considering telling her to stop.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch,
And love is not a victory march,
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.
A/N: Thanks to RileysMomma for beta-ing. Reviews would be perfect.