Well, here is the final chapter. Sorry it took me a while to post it, but on the plus side, it's really long. Check out my profile for details on my next fic.

I tried to avoid a cliché ending for this story, and hopefully somewhat succeeded. I had to laugh at all the reviews in the last chapter still asking me to not kill Soda. I thought you'd know he was safe by now. :) But I loved the reviews anyway. As for the sequel someone mentioned…well, it was never part of the plan, and I wouldn't hold your breath for it, but ideas have started running around in my head, so you never know. ;)

I want to thank everyone who stuck with this story, and all the people who joined it more recently. Your reviews have meant so much to me! When I started this story I wasn't sure how it would go or if people would like it, but the response has been incredible. Thanks especially to FanFicFanatic12 and Hawiichick, who have reviewed pretty much every single chapter along the way, and also to SodapopSteve for reviewing all the chapters in a matter of days, then making a video about the fic. :) Thanks so much!

It's been a wild ride and I'm sad to see it over. I thought this story would be small, but 138 pages and 76,433 words later, I give you, finally, the last chapter.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

"Darry, I'm fine!"

"I know you're fine. The point is, I want to keep you that way."

I watched my brothers argue back and forth about whether Soda would go home today or not. I agreed with Darry that Soda shouldn't leave the hospital too soon, but I also really wanted him home. It had been almost a month since he'd been taken off the ventilator and by now the pneumonia was completely gone. He'd finished his six weeks in isolation, plus an extra one just to be safe, which made it nine weeks since he'd been admitted and I knew he was going stir crazy.

Dr. Sheldon, who was trying his best to hide a smile, broke into the dispute. "Darrel, it's as safe as it will ever be for Soda to go home. Unless you want to keep him here for the next few months, there's no reason for him not to go home today."

"See?" Soda grinned triumphantly at our older brother, who ignored him and spoke directly to the doctor.

"Are you sure? I don't want to take any chances."

"Yes, I'm sure. His white blood cell count is up and his immune system is rebuilding itself. He'll be on immunosuppressant drugs for the next few months, and he'll probably get a couple of infections in that time. But we can't keep him here for that long," he said quickly when he saw Darry start to argue. "He's as strong as he's going to be till then. If he gets a fever, or any other signs of infection, bring him back in and we'll keep him here for a few days, but he needs to be home now."

Soda looked like he was going to jump out of his skin if he didn't get to leave the hospital, so I finally added my two cents to the conversation. "We'll be careful, Darry," I said firmly.

Darry opened his mouth to protest, but Soda stopped him. "You can't keep me here forever, Dare."

It was a simple truth, but the potential consequences were mind numbing. It would be months before Soda was out of the post transplant danger zone, and even then, there would always be the possibility of relapse. In a way, keeping Soda in the protective bubble of the hospital seemed like a great idea, but I knew it wasn't realistic and deep down, Darry knew it, too.

He looked around at the three of us and realized he was outnumbered. Normally that wouldn't stop him from doing things his way, but it was harder to go against a medical expert than against two younger brothers. "Fine," he finally relented. "But I don't want you going out much, ya hear? Nowhere crowded, or dirty. And don't you dare set a foot anywhere near Buck's or The Dingo."

"Dare, I'm not planning to go anywhere. I just want to be home." I studied Soda's face and realized how tired he looked today. His anxiousness to go home was giving him a burst of energy, but underneath that he was still exhausted from everything his body had gone through. From the little info they had about successful transplant patients, Dr. Sheldon had said it would be a few months before Soda was ready to go back to work and it could be a year before he felt completely normal again. Even though he was going home today, he'd have to go back to the hospital at least twice a week for tests and procedures and he'd be on tons of meds. But he'd be home, so the rest of it didn't seem as bad.

Darry smiled softly at Soda and pulled him close. "Okay. Let's get you home." Soda immediately held his hand out to Dr. Sheldon and looked meaningfully at the last of the IVs in his arm. Dr. Sheldon just chuckled and shook his head, then quickly took the IV out. Soda sighed in relief when he was finally free of the last piece of equipment that had been poking into him. It had been a slow process, but the machines had gradually been taken away as he'd fought the pneumonia until he'd been left with just his original nutritional supplements and antibiotics.

"Alright, let's go!" Soda swung his feet off the edge of the bed and hopped down. He was halfway to the door when he realized no one was following him. He turned to us, annoyed. "Well, what's everyone waiting for?"

I glanced at Darry, who had his hand over his mouth to hide his laughter, and thought it might be better if he wasn't the one to explain the situation. "Umm, Soda?" I started, doing my best to contain my own amusement. "For one thing, you're barefoot." He glanced down at his feet and blushed a little. "For another thing," I continued, "we haven't packed up any of your stuff."

"Not to mention I have to fill out the paperwork still," Darry added, giving up on repressing his laughter.

Soda slunk back to the bed and climbed up. I smirked, and he scowled at me. "I wouldn't talk, Pone. You've done some real stupid things yourself." I knew he could probably list a dozen examples off the top of his head, but it didn't stop my laughter. I started moving around the room and collecting Soda's things together, trying to hide my face from him. Darry, however, was still in reach of our brother and swiftly received a punch on the arm. "Don't you have forms to fill out?" Soda asked testily. Darry just smiled at him, but moved out of reach and followed Dr. Sheldon out of the room.

As I finished packing up Soda's clothes and toiletries, plus the things of Darry's and mine that had made their way into the room, I realized how quiet it was. I looked up to find Soda sitting with his knees pulled up his chest, staring out the window. "Soda?" I asked softly, joining him.

"What if it's too soon?" He continued to stare out the window, watching the world go by outside.

"Soda, you heard the doctor. It's okay to go home now." He didn't respond, so I tried again. "You're gonna get sick, Soda. You're gonna get a cold or a flu or something, but we'll get you through it. You've already beaten all the odds—"

"That's just it, Pone," he interrupted me, and finally turned his head to meet my eyes. "What if I haven't really? What if it's all just temporary and the next time I get sick I can't beat it? Or what if the cancer comes back?"

I shook my head vehemently. "Don't think like that, Soda."

But he wasn't done. Now that the reality of going home and sunk in, his fears were rising to the surface. "Pony, my heart stopped. What if that happens again and I can't come back from it? It's not like I have any control over it."

Soda had been real shaken when we'd finally told him everything that had happened when he'd been unconscious. There was one thing we'd left out though, and I sighed, knowing he had to know. "Soda, when that happened, Darry—" I paused and took a deep breath; this was still hard to think about. "Darry swears he felt you. He says he felt your hand on his face."

Soda stared at me incredulously. "Do you believe him?"

I thought about it for a minute before answering. Darry and I hadn't talked about it since he'd first told me, and I'd done my best to not think about that day. Slowly, I nodded. "Yeah, I do. If it'd been me, I don't think I would, but Darry doesn't imagine stuff. Soda, I think you did have some control over it. I think that even then, you were still fighting."

I watched Soda's face, but there were so many emotions playing over it I couldn't figure out if he believed me or not. Just then, Darry came back into the room. "Alright, the paper work's done. Ready to go, little buddy?" he asked, smiling. Soda nodded and slid off the bed, heading towards the door again.

"Umm, Soda?" I said hesitantly. He looked at me and I held his shoes out to him. A smile spread over his face as he realized he'd once again tried to leave the hospital in his bare feet.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

The car ride home was quiet. I couldn't get Pony's words out of my head. Had Darry felt my ghost or something? Or had he just made it all up in his head? No, I knew that wasn't true. Ponyboy was right—Darry didn't imagine things. But that only left me with one possibility, and it was one that completely unnerved me. I didn't remember anything, but had I really been there, somehow? Had I done anything else they didn't know about? I sighed and shook my head, trying to clear it. It was all just too much to figure out all at once.

"You okay, Soda?" Darry asked, glancing over at me.

"Yeah, I'm fine." It wasn't exactly the truth, but I didn't much want to talk about my own death, future or past. I just wanted to focus on the present, on going home and finally sleeping in my own bed again. Even just walking out of the hospital had been an amazing experience. It had been months since I'd smelled fresh air and I'd stood, gulping it in, until Pony had shoved me along to the truck.

As we turned the final corner, I drank in the sight of our house. It was as small and shabby looking as ever, but it was home and the doubts I'd had earlier started to fade some. Pony was right; I could do this. If I could come back from the dead, I could beat a couple of colds.

Once Darry had pulled into the driveway, I slowly climbed out of the truck. It was a surreal experience, coming home after being gone for so long, especially when I'd left not knowing if I'd ever come back. Darry came up beside me, wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and led me into the house. Right away I was assailed with the smell of a half dozen different foods. "What the hell…" Darry breathed, and I glanced at him nervously. I'd been hoping he'd planned whatever this was.

"It smells good in here," Pony said, following us in the door with my bag. Then realization dawned on him. "But, if we were all at the hospital, then who's cooking?"

The three of us crept silently into the kitchen, already figuring who it had to be. "Are the potatoes done yet, Two-Bit?" Steve asked impatiently, stirring a pot on the stove as he looked over Two-Bit's shoulder at another pot. "They should be home any minute."

"Don't rush genius, Steve," Two-Bit replied, dipping a spoon into the pot and tasting a sample. "And yes, they're done."

"Ah-hem." I cleared my throat and Steve spun around, nearly dropping the spoon in his hand.

"Christ, Soda! Don't scare me like that!"

"You're the one who said they'd be home any minute," Two-Bit said calmly. He turned around from the stove and smiled at me. "Welcome home, Sodapop!" he added brightly.

"Thanks." I smiled, surveying the kitchen. The stove was covered in pots, the oven was on, and dishes littered every possible inch of the counter. "So, have your own kitchens been invaded by aliens or something?"

Steve grinned. "We're making your favorite foods. Kind of a "welcome home" surprise. Are you hungry?" he asked, looking unsure. I hadn't exactly gotten my old appetite back yet, the one Mom had complained would eat her out of house and home. I didn't want to disappoint the guys though, and the kitchen really did smell amazing.

"Yeah, absolutely," I fibbed. I wasn't not hungry, but I wasn't starving, either.

Two-Bit started piling food onto my plate—spaghetti, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, even an egg with grape jelly. I stared at the mound of food, feeling daunted. I hadn't eaten so much in months. "You don't have to eat all of it," Darry whispered, seeing my face. I smiled weakly at him and slowly sat down and picked my fork up.

Steve, who'd been finishing up at the stove, turned around and swore. "Two-Bit! That's way too much food! He's only been out of the hospital for an hour!"

"He doesn't have to finish it," Two-Bit said, shrugging. "But this way, if he only feels like one thing, he's got plenty of it."

I shook my head at my friend. "You never cease to amaze me, Two-Bit." He flashed a smile at me and started cramming his own plate with food. I scooped up a forkful of potatoes and had to restrain myself from groaning when they hit my taste buds. "Glory, these are good," I exclaimed after I'd swallowed. It seemed like forever since I'd tasted anything besides hospital food and even longer since I'd actually enjoyed eating something. I started shoveling more into my mouth as fast as I could, only stopping when my plate was half empty and my stomach felt like it would burst. I leaned back and looked around the table; everyone was staring at me, each wearing a slightly different version of shock on their faces. "What?" I asked.

"It's just been a while since we've seen you eat like that," Darry explained, staring at me like he didn't recognize me. "It's good, though!" he added quickly, smiling.

I studied my plate and realized just how much I'd actually eaten. I really hadn't been hungry when I'd sat down, but everything had just been so good, I hadn't thought about how much I was eating. "I guess Steve and Two-Bit should cook more often," I joked, grinning at them. "How'd you guys know I'd be coming home, anyway? I wasn't even sure till it happened."

Steve shrugged. "We knew there was a good chance and we were just hoping nothing would stop it." He glanced sideways at Darry, who thankfully didn't notice the implication. I started to laugh at my friend, but it quickly turned into a yawn.

"You should get some sleep, Soda." I took Darry's hint and headed to my room. I'd been tired before, but now I was downright exhausted, especially after scarfing down so much food. I quickly pulled back the covers, smiling at the fact that I'd get to sleep in my own bed, and was out cold before my head hit the pillow.

I woke up sometime later when Pony climbed in next to me. "Sorry, Soda," he said softly. "Did I wake you?"

I smiled and wrapped an arm around him as he settled in. "Yeah, but it doesn't matter. Trust me, I'll go back to sleep."

I was just starting to doze when Pony spoke up. "It's good to have you home, Sodapop."

"You have no idea," I mumbled, pulling him closer and drifting off again.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

"No Pony, you're on the wrong side of the engine!" Soda cried, laughing at our little brother, who had the hood of our truck open and was leaning over the front of it.

"Well, you do it, then," Pony grumbled, stepping back. Steve started showing Pony what he was doing wrong and I smiled to myself. He and Pony'd been getting along a lot better lately. After everything that had happened with Soda, Steve had finally realized that Pony wasn't a little kid anymore and Pony had realized that there was more to Steve than met the eye. Soda wasn't allowed to work on cars till his immune system was completely recovered, so he'd settled for talking Pony through the steps while Steve showed him. Pony didn't have much of a knack for cars, and it seemed that Soda loved finally being better than Ponyboy at something. As proud as he was of our little brother, I think he'd always felt a little bit of jealousy, though he'd never admit it.

I leaned against the front doorway, content to keep watching the friendly banter. I didn't want Soda to wear himself out too much, but it was his birthday and I didn't have the heart to stop him. I was grateful we even had a birthday to celebrate. It was two weeks ago that he'd gotten his first post-hospital infection and I shuddered to think that we'd come close to losing him again.

~_~_~_~_~_~

I took a long drink of water and glared at the sun beating down. It was the middle of September, but summer was still going strong. It was fine with me when I was home, but the middle of a heat wave ain't the best time to be roofing houses. I sighed and took another huge gulp of water before turning to get a pile of shingles. Before I could get very far, the boss called to me from inside the building we were working on. "Curtis! Phone call!"

I frowned as I jogged over to him. The guys knew I got mad if they phoned me at work unless it was for a real good reason. I started to get uneasy as I took the phone. "Hello?"

"Dare?" Sodapop's voice came across the line and my stomach instantly dropped. He'd been home for two and a half weeks and every day I'd thanked God that nothing had gone wrong. We'd all known it wouldn't last forever though, not unless Soda had a horseshoe stuck to him.

"What's wrong, Soda?" He wasn't calling me just to say hi.

"I don't feel very good, Dare. I—I have a fever." His voice was small, scared. He knew what this meant just as much as I did.

I tried my best to stay calm as I got more info from him. "How high is it?"

"102," he answered, and I swore.

"How'd it get so high, Soda?" He was supposed to go to the hospital if it got over 100.

"I don't know! I took a nap and when I woke up I didn't feel right, so I took my temperature. It must've started when I was asleep."

I took a deep breath and gathered my thoughts together. I could get him to call an ambulance, but I didn't think the government program we were in would cover the bill. On the other hand, I wasn't too far from home and I had no problems breaking speed limits when I had to. "Okay, just sit tight, Soda. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Okay."

I heard a click and I hung up, then quickly picked the phone back up and dialed. I waited impatiently for someone to answer, counting the seconds as they passed. Time was critical, but this had to be done. Finally, someone picked up. "Good morning. Will Roger's High School, Debbie Tanner speaking."

"Hi, I'm Ponyboy Curtis' guardian. I need to pick him up right away. I need him waiting at the front doors in five minutes."

"What's the reason?"

"Family emergency," I answered curtly.

"I need more information than that for our records."

I bit back a growl and tried to keep my voice as even as possible. "Our brother almost died of cancer a month ago and I need to take him to the hospital. Ponyboy's coming with us. Is that enough information for you?"

There was a short pause on the other end and then, "Alright, I'll have him paged."

I slammed the phone down and turned around to find my boss standing right behind me. "Is he okay?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"He's got a fever. I need to go…"

He just nodded and I took off running. He knew all about Soda's condition and what an infection could mean. I'd call him in the morning to let him know what was going on. I drove as fast as I could to Pony's school and found him waiting for me. The second he was in the truck I pressed on the gas again. "What's going on?" he asked anxiously. "It's Soda, isn't it?" There really wasn't another reason I'd pull him out of school in the middle of the day.

"Yeah. He called me at work. His temperature is 102."

"But he's supposed to be checking it!"

"I know. I guess it started while he was asleep."

We were silent the rest of the way. I barely had the car in park before we were both out and running for the house. Pony got there first and threw open the front door. "Soda?!" he called; I was right behind him. We both spied Soda at the same time. He was lying on the couch with his eyes closed. "Soda?" Pony tried again, kneeling down next to him. Soda slowly opened his eyes and I breathed a small sigh of relief that he wasn't unconscious.

"Pone?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"I don't feel good, Pone," he mumbled.

"It's okay, little buddy," I said, kneeling next to Pony. "We're gonna get you to the hospital and you'll be okay."

"I'm sorry, Dare," he whispered, looking at me. "I was asleep…I didn't know…"

"Don't worry, Soda," I soothed. "We're gonna get you better. We haven't come this far just to lose you now."

Soda gave me a small smile and closed his eyes. "I'm cold," he said quietly. Pony and I exchanged glances; we knew exactly what that meant. I quickly picked Soda up and Pony ran to open the doors for me. Soda was already shaking when I placed him in the truck. Pony climbed into the middle and I jumped in the driver's seat and took off.

"He's really burning up," Pony said nervously, feeling our brother's forehead. Soda was shaking uncontrollably now and I pressed down harder on the gas pedal. The hospital was a twenty minute drive; we made it in twelve.

As soon as we pulled into the parking lot I was out of the car. When Soda was securely in my arms, Pony jumped out of the truck and we rushed into the ER. The nurse at the desk took one look at us and hurried around to help. "He's got a fever," I said, following her as she led us to a curtained off room. "He's recovering from leukemia. He had a bone marrow transplant two months ago." She looked up at me sharply; I was sure that wasn't something she heard very often.

"When did his fever start?"

"He called me at work twenty five minutes ago. He said he woke up with it."

"Was Dr. Sheldon his physician?" I nodded. "Alright, I'll get him in here right away." She hurried out of the room and I gently laid Soda on the bed. He was still violently shaking, but he opened his eyes and looked at us groggily.

"It's gonna be okay, Soda," I said for the hundredth time. I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince him or myself.

"What's going on, Dare?" he asked, looking around the room. When he looked back at me, his eyes were hazy.

"You're in the hospital, Soda. You have a fever, remember?"

"No…" Soda's eyes were full of fear now and I looked anxiously at Ponyboy. Before either of us had a chance to state the obvious, Dr. Sheldon came into the room, followed by a man and woman I didn't recognize.

"What are his other symptoms?" he asked quickly.

"He doesn't remember calling me about the fever," I told him, "and he's been shaking like this since I got him in the car."

Dr. Sheldon quickly gave instructions to the other staff and they hurried out. "I'm starting him on antibiotics and some meds to bring his fever down. It's just a general antibiotic, though. I need to do some tests to find out what he has before I can start him on anything specific. Darrel, the tests involve needles. He needs to be held down while I do them because of his shaking. I can get someone else to do it…"

"No," I said immediately. "I'll do it."

"If he's confused, he might try to fight the tests. I'll have a sedative ready, but I don't want to give him one in his current condition unless I have to. Will you be able to hold him down if he struggles?" I knew he didn't mean physically; it was obvious that Sodapop was no match for me with how weak he still was. Dr. Sheldon wanted to make sure that I wouldn't panic.

"I'll be fine," I said firmly.

Right then the other staff, a nurse and resident I assumed, came back in with medical equipment. "Darrel, take his shirt off and lie him on his back." I did as I was told, shooting Pony a quick glance. He was pale, but his face was set and determined.

"What's happening, Darry?" Soda asked fearfully once his shirt was off. The IVs were quickly inserted into his arm, but he was so distracted he barely noticed.

"Dr. Sheldon needs to do a few tests. You're shaking pretty bad, so I've gotta hold you down, but it'll be over real quick."

"What kind of tests?" I saw Soda eye the needle Dr. Sheldon was preparing.

"It's just a couple quick needles. It'll be okay, Pepsi-Cola."

"Are you ready, Darrel? I need to take a blood sample."

I put my hands on Soda and got ready to restrain him. I knew in his confused state there wasn't a chance he was going to stay calm, even for a simple blood draw. Sure enough, the second the needle pierced his skin, Soda screamed. It was just like he was a little kid again, but he was a hell of a lot bigger now. He may've been weaker after the cancer, but I was still struggling to hold him as still as possible. When the needle finally came out, Soda stopped screaming, but he was still bawling.

"I need to do a lumbar puncture. Are you sure you're okay, Darrel?" I nodded stiffly.

"Soda, I need you to lie on your side now. Can you do that for me?" Soda looked at me, eyes glassy with fever and tears.

"I don't want to, Darry." It came out almost as a whimper.

"Please, Soda. We need to get you better, but we need your help. I need you to be strong."

Slowly, Soda nodded. His entire body was still raked with chills, so I helped him turn onto his side and held him there. Soda grabbed my shirt as Dr. Sheldon injected the anesthetic into his back. When the spinal needle went in, he started crying again, but he was more controlled this time. Through the shaking, I felt his entire body go rigid from the pain. I held onto him tightly, making sure I was ready if he started struggling. For almost ten minutes he did as well as I could've hoped, but then it got to be too much for him. "Darry, make him stop. Please make him stop," he whimpered.

"It's okay. It's almost over," I soothed.

"Please make him stop," Soda repeated, louder this time.

I looked at Dr. Sheldon. "One more minute," he said quietly.

"Just one minute, Soda. You can do this, I know you can." I spared a quick glance beside me to Pony, who was holding Soda's legs. He looked like he was going to throw up.

Soda's cries intensified and I could feel him start to fight. Holding Soda down during the last minute of the test was one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do, but I knew how important it was that we find out what was wrong with him. I wasn't even sure what the tests were for, but I'd learned to trust Dr. Sheldon completely.

With Soda in tears, struggling to get away from the pain, I could feel my resolve breaking. It took every ounce of my willpower to keep myself from just letting go, but somehow I managed to hold it together till Dr. Sheldon pulled the needle out. When I let go, Soda stayed curled up on his side, still clutching my shirt. Pony ran out of the room and I heard the faint sounds of vomiting from somewhere down the hall. When he came back, he looked at me apologetically. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Did you at least hit a garbage can?" I smiled wryly at him, relieved to have the spinal needle out of Soda. Ponyboy nodded, a bit of color starting to come back to his cheeks.

The nurse started checking Soda's temperature while Dr. Sheldon sent the samples off with the resident. "As soon as the results come back I'll adjust his antibiotics accordingly," he explained, turning to us. "For now, all I can do is keep him on these meds and monitor him closely. I'll have him moved out of the ER, too."

"Can we try to cool him down again?" I asked, remembering how Ponyboy and I had covered Soda with cool cloths last time.

"It certainly can't hurt," he smiled. The nurse had finished taking Soda's temperature by now and showed it to Dr. Sheldon, who sighed. "It's gone up to 103.4." He asked the nurse to get us some cloths, then wrote on Soda's chart and left.

I watched my younger brother, who still couldn't stop shaking. His eyes were swollen from crying so much and I thought again how unfair it was that this had happened to him. I would've given anything in the world to trade places with him. My mind flashed again to the night he'd almost died from a fever, to all the times he couldn't breathe, to when his heart stopped. I couldn't keep doing this; I couldn't keep sitting by his side wondering if this would be the complication that would kill him. I couldn't, but I would anyway.

I thanked the nurse when she came back with the damp cloths, and Pony and I started the routine of moving them around Soda's head and neck. After a while two more nurses came in to move him to a room in the oncology wing where he could be watched more carefully. As he was being settled in, he finally stopped shaking. He looked at us blearily as his temperature was taken again. "104.8," the nurse told us before writing it down and leaving us alone.

"Darry," Soda whispered.

"Hey, it's okay, little buddy," I said quietly. "You've had a higher temperature before and made it through fine."

He ignored my comment, or maybe it didn't even register with him. "Darry, where are Mom and Dad?"

I froze. Soda looked at me, his eyes full of pain and exhaustion. I had no idea how to answer his question. I couldn't bear the thought of telling him the truth, but my mind couldn't seem to work fast enough to come up with a lie. Fortunately, Ponyboy seemed to be in better shape. "They'll be here soon, Soda," he reassured our brother, rubbing a cool cloth across his forehead. "You've got us right now, okay? We're not going anywhere." Soda seemed satisfied with this and closed his eyes.

"Thanks," I mouthed to Pony, who gave me a grim smile back.

~_~_~_~_~_~

It had taken until the early hours of the morning for Soda's fever to start to break. Dr. Sheldon had come back to tell us that the lumbar puncture had showed it wasn't meningitis and the blood tests hadn't turned up anything interesting, either. It was just an ordinary infection.

Soda said he remembered the ride to the hospital and getting the tests, but not much after that. He had no memory of asking for our parents. The whole incident was still a sensitive subject, but he was dealing with it better than when he'd first gotten home.

~_~_~_~_~_~

I went over to the couch where Sodapop was just waking up from a nap. Steve and Two-Bit had dropped by briefly to see how he was, but he'd fallen asleep and after quietly visiting for a while, they'd both left. Ponyboy had gone to his room a few minutes before to do his homework. "Hey, little buddy," I greeted, taking a seat next to him as he sat up.

"Hey, Dare. Did the guys leave?" he asked, looking around the empty room.

"Yeah, a little while ago. They didn't want to wake you up."

Soda frowned. "They could've stayed. I don't mind."

"We all want you to get enough rest. We don't want you sick again."

"Where's Pony?"

"He's doing his homework," I answered, but frowned at the change in subject. Soda had barely said a word since his fever had broken and had consistently steered any conversation away from his illness. "Soda, you're gonna be okay," I said, pulling him close to me. "We knew you were going to get sick at some point. The important thing is that you got through it."

Soda was quiet for a minute, then looked out the window. "It's raining," he observed. "Think you'll be working tomorrow?"

"Soda," I tried again, pulling back and gently moving his head so our eyes met. "You can't keep avoiding the subject. It happened, but it's done. You're home."

Soda scoffed and looked away. "Yeah, for now. What about next time?"

"Next time might not be as bad."

"Or it could be worse," he argued. "Darry, I remember getting to the ER. It's real fuzzy, but I remember it. I remember fighting you when you tried to hold me down for the tests. I don't want that to happen again."

"Soda, you know you're still going to have to get needles, even if you don't get another infection. We still have to go to checkups."

Soda sighed and shook his head. "It's not the needles. I hate them, you know that. But I learned a while ago just to bite my tongue and deal with them. I don't want to lose control again. I can't imagine what it was like for you and Pony, having to watch that…" He trailed off and I could hear his voice start to choke up.

"Hey," I whispered. "Don't worry about that. I won't lie; it was awful having to restrain you, but I'll do it a thousand more times if it means you'll be okay."

He looked at me and suddenly cracked a smile. "A thousand?"

I realized my poor choice of words and laughed. "Okay, I'll do it once more, then you're on your own. How's that?" We both started laughing so hard that Pony came out of his room to find out what was going on. When neither of us could catch our breath long enough to explain what had set us off, he rolled his eyes and went back to his homework.

~_~_~_~_~_~

Sodapop still avoided bringing up the subject himself, but he didn't avoid it anymore if someone else did. He seemed happier, too, I observed as I watched him laugh at another mistake Pony had made. Ponyboy punched him on the arm, lightly, then tried to follow the instructions Steve was giving him. Soda noticed me in the doorway and wandered over. "He ain't really getting the hang of it much, is he?" he asked, nodding to Pony.

I chuckled and shook my head. "Not really. I wouldn't count on him joining you at the DX when you go back." Soda laughed and I was happy to see his eyes dancing. He'd tried to keep his spirits up during everything, but it was only in the last few days that he'd really turned a corner on that. His hair was starting to grow back, too. It was still short enough that it looked like he'd just come back from war, but it was getting there.

Pony finally called it quits on the truck when he saw Two-Bit come up the driveway. I headed inside with Soda, who plopped down on the couch, and went to get the cake out of the fridge. Ponyboy was babysitting a few hours a week again and I'd found another second job, but money was still tight after the week I'd had to take off. We were still trying to keep on top of the bills that had piled up over the summer. It meant we didn't have much money for presents, but Soda's birthday in particular was a special event this year and I'd scrounged up a few extra dollars for it. Pony had pulled a few strings with Randy to get a deal on a present we all knew Soda would love.

The guys came into the house and Pony helped me carry dishes out to the living room while Steve and Two-Bit made themselves comfortable. As everyone dug into the cake I nodded to Pony, who quickly snuck off to my room. When he came back he was carrying a small envelope, which he handed to Soda.

"What's this?" Soda asked, surprised.

"It's your birthday present, genius," Steve laughed.

Soda looked between me and Pony, the surprise on his face growing. "But we can't afford anything, not right now," he protested.

"Steve and Two-Bit pitched in," Pony admitted.

"It ain't refundable, so you may as well open it," Two-Bit prodded.

Soda shook his head at us, but he opened the envelope anyway. There was a small card inside and after reading the front he opened it up; a thick piece of paper floated out and fell to the ground. Confused, he picked it up. As he read it, I watched his eyes grow wide. "How did you guys afford this?!" he cried, looking around at each of us.

"Don't worry about that part," I said.

"Do you like it?" Pony asked. In response, Soda launched himself at Pony and hugged him, then did the same to me. I hugged him back tightly and took the paper from him to put it safely in his nightstand drawer. It was a gift certificate for twenty hours of riding at a nearby ranch. It had been a no brainer that Soda would be happy and it had been well worth it to squeeze our budget a little tighter in order to buy it in time for his birthday. He wouldn't be able to use it for a few months, not till he was given the all clear to be around animals, but it would give him something to look forward to.

I couldn't help but savor that thought as I rejoined everyone in the living room. We still had a few months to go before Soda would be in the clear, and there would always be the possibility of relapse, but now we could actually hope that he'd be okay and not feel like idiots for thinking it. Even his frequent doctor's appointments didn't seem so bad anymore.

I dug into my piece of cake and smiled as Soda polished off his own. His appetite wasn't back to normal yet, but it was well on the way. I tried to pull him into a one armed hug, but as he fell against me he lost his balance and toppled off the couch. On the way, he grabbed onto Pony's arm to try to stabilize himself, but ended up pulling both of us down with him. We lay sprawled on the floor, Steve and Two-Bit laughing mercilessly at us, but somehow I didn't have the motivation to get up. I had everything I needed right there.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~