Hi everyone :) Sorry it took a bit longer to get this chapter out. Five more weeks and things should settle down a bit.

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I knew something wasn't right as soon as I saw Soda come outta the bathroom. His face was white and he was grippin' the doorknob way too tight. I stood up, but before I could make a move he was fallin' to the ground. "Soda!" I called, running over to him. He'd fallen on his side and I rolled him over; he was unconscious, but he was breathin' fine. I figured that was a good sign, at least. "Soda. Soda, can you hear me?" I tried shakin' him gently. I heard him groan and I sighed in relief. "That's it, buddy," I encouraged.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked at me blearily. "Steve? What happened? The last thing I remember is comin' outta the bathroom…"

"You passed out. How do you feel now?" I wanted to get him back into his bed, but I wasn't sure I could lift him up. "Can you stand?"

"I think so," he replied, sounding unsure.

"Alright, buddy, put your arm around my neck," I told him.

Once he was ready I placed my arm under his back and helped him up. He swayed on his feet and leaned against me. We made it the few steps to his bed and he managed to climb onto it, but he was pale and sweating from the effort. "Everything's spinnin', Steve," he groaned, closing his eyes.

"It's alright Soda," I reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm gonna go get some help. I'll be right back." I hurried outta the room and went straight to the nurses' station. "I need some help in Sodapop Curtis' room," I told the closest nurse calmly. I was worried about my best friend, but I knew gettin' worked up wasn't gonna help him. "He just passed out. He woke up again, but he's real dizzy."

"Did he have any other symptoms?" she asked, following me into Soda's room.

"No, I don't think so. What's wrong? Why'd he pass out?" Darry had told me about what happened after Two-Bit and I had left. It sounded like Soda was a lot worse off than earlier in the day and I was anxious to get some answers. I wasn't sure if it was normal for people to faint during chemotherapy.

"It's probably just low blood pressure," she told me. "If that's the case, then there's nothing to worry about. It's a common enough side effect of cancer treatment." She got a blood pressure cuff and hooked it up to Soda's arm while I took a seat by his side. He opened his eyes and I was relieved to see they were more alert and focused than they'd been before.

"Hey buddy. How're ya doing?" I asked him.

"Better. I'm not dizzy anymore. Just tired." He smiled at me weakly. "Thanks for the help."

"Anytime," I told him, smiling back.

The nurse finished and put her equipment away. "His blood pressure is a bit below normal. It's probably gone up since he passed out, so that was likely the cause of his fainting spell." She turned towards Soda. "You should try and get some rest. If you need to get out of bed, you should make sure someone is here to help you." She turned and left the room.

Soda frowned at her retreating form. "I don't need help gettin' outta bed," he muttered. "It was just one time."

I didn't say anything. I agreed with the nurse, but I didn't wanna argue with Soda just then. I sat silently by his side as he finally closed his eyes and fell asleep again. I watched him while he slept, thinking about everything that had happened. He'd lost so much in the last couple of years—his parents, Johnny and Dally, and Sandy. Now he was supposed to deal with cancer, too? I didn't understand how one person could have so much thrown at them and be expected to keep going. I was still thinkin' about all this when Darry and Ponyboy came back in the room. "Hey Steve," Darry said, carefully sitting on Soda's bed while Pony took the chair next to mine. "He's still asleep?" he asked, looking at his brother.

"He's asleep again," I corrected. "He woke up for a while." I didn't want to tell Darry what had happened. He was stressed enough; he didn't need to be worryin' anymore than he already was. I knew I had to tell him anyway, though—he'd want to know, and he'd find out eventually from either Soda or the doctor.

"How was he when he woke up? Did he get sick again?" Pony asked, clearly concerned.

I sighed and they both looked at me, knowing something was coming. "No, he wasn't sick. He was okay when he woke up. But he tried gettin' outta bed, and he passed out."

Darry looked startled, but he quickly covered it up. "Has he woken up since? What did the doctor say?"

"Yeah, he came around pretty fast," I said quickly, trying to downplay the situation. "The nurse said his blood pressure dropped. She said it's common and we shouldn't worry about it." I scoffed at that. The whole situation was pretty fucking uncommon in the first place.

Darry nodded and looked back at Soda. "Thanks for being here, Steve," he said softly.

"No problem," I answered. "Darry?" I waited till he was looking at me. I wanted to make this perfectly clear. "I'm here for you guys, whatever you need. Two-Bit, too. You just have to ask." Darry was silent but he nodded, acknowledging my promise. I knew we'd have to keep an eye on him to make sure he wasn't taking on all the responsibilities himself. I got up, deciding it was time to get going. "Night, guys. Tell Soda bye for me when he wakes up."

"We will," Darry answered, taking my now vacant chair. "Night, Steve."

"See ya tomorrow," Pony added. I left the room and headed to the elevator, trying to keep my hopes up despite the evening's events.

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After Steve left, Darry and I sat silently, each lost in our own thoughts. I found it hard to believe that it was only yesterday we'd been at the beach. Today had been long and tiring. It made my stomach turn to see Soda like this. He'd always taken care of me, especially since Mom and Dad died. Now that he needed me, I wanted to be able to take care of him, but I felt completely useless. I was thankful that the hospital had a program set up to pay for all this; I knew we wouldn't have a chance of affording Soda's treatment otherwise. I wasn't sure how Darry was gonna pay the bills without Soda's paycheck. I snapped outta my thoughts as I saw Soda start to stir. After a minute he opened his eyes and smiled at us. "Hey guys," he said sleepily. He looked around, then asked, "Where's Steve?"

"It was gettin' late, so he headed home," Darry answered. "He told us about what happened."

Soda's smiled vanished. "It was nothin' Dare. I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Soda," Darry insisted. "You're sick. You're gonna have to be careful what you do from now on."

"I know that, Darry!" Soda snapped. "I know I'm sick. But that doesn't mean I need help every time I get outta bed!"

"He's just trying to watch out for ya, Soda," I said quietly. Darry looked at me, surprised. Usually I was the one arguing with him, not defending him.

Soda's expression softened at my words. "I know, Pone. But really, guys, I'm not completely helpless. I'll even prove it." Before we could stop him he'd climbed outta bed and was walking across the room. "See? I'm still standing." He was right, he was still upright, but I could see his face tighten up just a little with the effort of walking even the few steps across the room and back to his bed. This treatment was really sapping his energy.

"Okay, little buddy," Darry said. "You've proved your point. But I'd still feel better if you don't get up when you're alone, just in case."

Soda carefully climbed back into bed. "Fine, Darry," he relented. "I'll wait for someone to be here when I want to get outta bed." He leaned back against the pillow, looking sleepy again. "You guys should go home," he told us. "You've been here all day. I'm just gonna sleep, anyway."

"You sure?" I asked. I didn't want to leave him here alone.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he said, already starting to nod off.

We waited till he was completely asleep, then reluctantly left the room. We both knew we had to leave eventually. When we got to the hallway we saw Dr. Sheldon at the nurses' station. Did that guy ever leave the hospital? When he saw us, he waved us over. "Darrel, Ponyboy, I'd like to talk to you before you leave for the night." He led us down the hall to what I guessed was his office. It had a desk with a couple of chairs on the side with the door and a third chair on the opposite side. When we'd all sat down he started talking. "First, I want you to know that I'm on call tonight, so I'll be able to check on Soda's condition throughout the night." Good—that made me feel a little less guilty for leaving. "What I'd like to discuss with you now is the side effects he's experienced so far and what you can expect in the next few days and during later weeks."

"Is he going to get worse?" Darry asked the question that we had both been wondering all day.

"I don't like to phrase it as getting sicker," he began, "but there are some aspects of the treatment that might still present themselves. The first is what I call 'breakthrough pain.' Right now I have Soda on a schedule of constant pain medication to help manage the side effects. However, about half of cancer patients experience brief periods where the pain 'breaks through' these medications and becomes more severe. Sometimes these periods are triggered by physical activity and sometimes they appear randomly. They usually happen quickly and last for about a half hour. If Soda experiences these, we'll need to administer a stronger pain medication during the episodes. I know your brother doesn't like needles, but unfortunately that's what we'll have to use to ensure that the drugs take effect quickly. Otherwise the pain will have dissipated by the time the medication enters his bloodstream and there will be no point in giving it to him at all."

"Is there any way to prevent these…episodes?" Darry asked, using Dr. Sheldon's word.

"We'll have to wait and see if there is a trigger for them or if they're random, if he even has them at all. They might never appear," he reassured us. It didn't make me feel any better. I had a feeling we weren't going to be that lucky.

"What are the other symptoms?" I wished Darry hadn't asked that. This seemed like more than enough to me.

"As the treatment progresses, Soda may experience some shortness of breath. If he does, it likely won't be for a few weeks. It rarely shows up early in the disease or in chemotherapy treatment. I'm only telling you about it now so that you know what to expect. It usually only lasts for a few minutes and isn't dangerous, but it can be scary for him and for you, so you need to be prepared. As long as he is still able to get air into his lungs, you don't need to worry. The most important thing will be to keep him calm." Now I was really wishin' Darry hadn't asked what the other symptoms were. I wanted more than anything to be able to turn back the clock to last week, when we still thought Soda just had the flu.

Darry sighed and rubbed his face. "Is there anything else we should know?" It was obvious he was hopin' there wasn't.

"That covers the more nerve-wracking symptoms. There are a few simpler things you also need to be aware of. His immune system is compromised right now so you need to make sure you're careful about washing your hands and about coughing or sneezing when you're near Soda. If he does develop a fever once he's home, make sure to let me know right away so I can start him on antibiotics. As long as we catch any infections early, they shouldn't be a problem. You'll also find that he will bruise and bleed more easily than normal. Just make sure he's careful when he moves around. Also, make sure you keep up on his nutrition when he's home. He won't have a very big appetite, but you need to make him eat anyway."

Darry and I both nodded. Between the two of us, Two-Bit, and Steve, we could handle that. "Thanks, Dr. Sheldon," Darry said, standing up. "We really appreciate all this."

"I'm just doing my job," Dr. Sheldon replied. "We'll keep up the treatments and hopefully I'll be able to give you some good news in the coming weeks."

Darry and I left his office and made our way out of the building to our truck. In my mind I kept running through everything Dr. Sheldon had told us. It sounded like today had just been the tip of the iceberg, and that terrified me. I know the doctor had said the symptoms were all manageable, but my imagination kept running wild on me. What if Soda stopped breathing? What if that happened when one of us wasn't around? We couldn't be with him all the time, even with Darry's new work schedule. And what if none of these treatments worked? I kept coming back to this last thought through the whole ride home. Finally, as we pulled into the driveway, I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't want to cry in front of Darry, but I couldn't hold it back any longer. He looked over at me as I let out the first choking sob. "Hey, kiddo," he said softly. I was surprised when I felt his arm wrap around me and pull me close; he didn't usually show much physical affection. It felt good, though, and I leaned into his embrace. "It's gonna be okay. We'll get through this," he said.

"What if we don't, Dare?" I managed to get out between my sobs. "What if none of it matters in the end? We can't lose him."

"We won't lose him," Darry reassured me. "He's gonna make it through this. You have to believe that." I let Darry keep holding me for a long time while I cried.

Eventually my tears dried up and I leaned back, rubbing my cheeks with the back of my hand. "Sorry, Darry," I said, embarrassed. He was always tough and I didn't want him to be stuck with a crying baby brother on top of everything else.

"Don't be sorry, Pony," he told me. "I know you're scared. It's alright to cry." I studied his face and saw that he really meant it. I nodded, but I silently resolved to pull myself together, for his sake and for Soda's. After a few minutes, we both got out of the truck and went into our silent and empty house.

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Thank you to everyone who's been reviewing! I really appreciate the support! I always like to hear feedback and I'm curious—how is the pacing going at this point? Too slow or just right?

As a note--the term "breakthrough pain" wasn't actually coined until 1990, but I figured there were probably some people who were using the term before that.