Disclaimers: SE Hinton owns. Swearing.

Fast As You Can

OoO

I'm walking down the hallway of St. Mary's, my shoes squishing from water and mud, tracks left behind on the linoleum. It's one in the morning and Steve's truck is parked outside on the curb next to the liquor store.

The Cowboy stands when he sees me coming. "I thought I told you to stay at the house."

"How's Ponyboy?"

"They don't know yet."

"I want to talk to a doctor," I say hollowly. "I want to talk to a doctor now." I close my eyes. Open them. A nurse walking down the hall stops and stares.

"They're trying to get him conscious." Thomas Mercer runs a hand through his hair, nervously paces the hallway. He's tired. Worried. "He'll be okay. He will be."

I touch a fist to my mouth, breathe into it, say, "What am I gonna tell Darry? Oh, Jesus…"

"Sodapop…" The Cowboy takes a step closer.

"He's got to be okay." I turn away, resting my fist against the wall. "He just has to be." My shoulders shake. "Goddamnit…"

The Cowboy stays with me in the hall until I'm done.

OoO

The weather's gloomy. The sky like it's dusk instead of early morning. Luckily, the surrounding Tulsa area and my house are in one piece. I barrel out of my truck, heading for the house, shouting for my brothers.

Inside it's dark.

It's dark and that's when I see the note. Taped onto the front of the fridge.

I rip it off, eyeing Steve's scrawl.

St. Mary's. Hurry.

OoO

I've found the doctor. Now I just need to find him.

I rub my hands on the fronts of my jeans as I enter the fluorescent-lit cafeteria. I spot him instantly. Soda's sitting at a table, back hunched, head bowed. I cross the room, spying a coffee cup in front of him. "Soda. Sodapop…"

I got the gist of what happened from the doctor and being here, being in control, is all I can do to stay calm. I haven't seen Thomas Mercer since I arrived and hour ago; the doctor being the one to direct me down here.

He won't look at me. "Soda?" I say, resting a hand on his back. "You okay?"

Nodding slightly, Soda sticks a smoke in his mouth. He doesn't light it, his hands running over and over the plastic surface of the table as if he's trying to smooth it out. He covers his face and cries.

OoO

"I spoke with the doctor."

"Yeah. I did too."

"They said they won't know anything until he wakes up."

"Yeah. They told me that too," Soda sighs, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. His voice comes out muffled. "I just want him to be okay. To just wake up and be okay."

"Sodapop, I'm worried too."

Soda pulls out a smoke. It shakes as he holds it. I look at him close. Squeeze my fists together underneath the table. "Why was he at the Cowboy's? I told him to come straight home—"

"Yeah, I know what you told him. And I don't know what he was doin' up there, Dar. Upset about something, I don't know." He laughs, coarse and hard. "I was too busy trying to stick it to The Cowboy to even give a shit."

"It's not your fault, you know."

Soda fixes me with tired, dark eyes. "He saved 'im, Dar."

"What?"

"The Cowboy—Thomas Mercer. He got Ponyboy back. Got him breathing again. So it doesn't matter anymore. That—it doesn't matter. I'll never like the guy but I sure can't hate him now."

I rub my jaw, say, "Soda," and he just sits there staring at me like I have all the answers. I find myself in a place I've never been in; one where I'm so goddamn angry I want to put a fist through the wall, and one where I can't even move, sick with worry.

I want to reach out and give my brother a hug, tell him it will be okay, but my arms feel frozen to my body. Finally, when I say nothing, he says, "God I can't believe this…"

I squeeze his shoulder. I take the pack of smokes away as he reaches for another one.

Soda's head jerks up as the cafeteria door swings open. We look over as Steve and Two-Bit shuffle into the near-empty cafeteria.

"The Cowboy's gone," Steve says, sounding so mad. "He just fucking left."

OoO

My dreams seem odd. They're never this peaceful.

I see my mom, washing the dishes. She's in shorts and a big blouse, humming a tune. Her reddish-brown hair curled up into a bun. I'm sitting on the ground, legs folded underneath me just watching her. When she turns around, she's pregnant.

She comes to me, kneeling with a heavy belly. She drops letters, raining like confetti, in my lap, stretches her long fingers out and places them against my cheek. "You are my beautiful boy," she whispers.

OoO

He's there the next morning, taking charge. He gets Pony moved to a bigger room. A better room. Talks to the doctor in hushed tones and walks past Ponyboy's room a dozen times a day. Darry's about ready to spit fire, I can tell, but he says nothing. It's not the place.

I can't be mad anymore. I'm worrying about other things.

OoO

"You're back."

The Cowboy nods. I've found him next to the vending machines by the nurse's station. He's in jeans and boots, his hat on his head. I haven't slept in a day and judging by the looks of him he hasn't either.

"You look like hell, Sodapop."

"I'd say the same about you." I stifle a yawn. "Where'd you disappeared to yesterday?"

Clearing his throat, Thomas Mercer hitches his thumbs around his belt loops. "I know. It was a shit thing to take off like that. But Christ, Sodapop…I had to get outta here. Seeing him like th—"

"He'll be okay." My voice is hoarse and I wonder how many times I've repeated that to someone today.

"He went out to get that damned dog…" The Cowboy's voice cracks. "I never should have let him…"

"You couldn't have done anything..."

"Hell, I know. But it still seems like I should have stopped it somehow."

I know the feeling. I watch Steve and Two-Bit round the corner at the end of the hall. Steve nods with his head. Two-Bit punches the elevator button. My eyes drift back to the Cowboy.

"So listen, man, thanks."

Startled, he asks, "For what?"

"You saved Pony, you found him." I look down, shake my head. Any ounce of anger or bitterness I've ever held for the Cowboy has evaporated. "If you hadn't…a few more minutes—thank you. Thank you so goddamn much."

I shake his hand.

OoO

"You oughta go home. Get changed. Sleep some."

I almost laugh. Stretching out in the uncomfortable chair I smear a hand down my face. "I ain't leaving, Thomas. You know that."

"I do," he says. "Can't fault me for trying."

I take the cup of coffee he holds out. Thomas Mercer sits across from me in the same uncomfortable chair.

"How're you holding up?"

"Fine as I can be. Considering."

An ashtray sits on the windowsill, filled to the brim with butts and ashes. The large room smells like smoke, a blessing, clouding out the medicinal smell. The monotonous drone of the heart monitor the only sound coming from my brother.

Thomas pulls a flask out of his back pocket, uncapping it and tipping a splash into his coffee. He offers me some and I shake my head. I decide to ask what I've been wondering ever since I arrived.

"What'd Pony want the other day? Why was he at the house?"

The Cowboy gives me a shifty glance, like he doesn't trust what I'm asking. I lean forward, resting elbows on the knees of my jeans. "Soda said he was upset."

"I didn't call him to come out, if that's what you want to get at."

I look at him.

"Came on his own," Thomas Mercer says, draining his drink. "He was upset, god knows why. Kid didn't even know what he wanted to say."

"That sounds like Pony." My jaw clenches and I turn away. Outside in the hall, Soda and Steve are talking, their dark profiles stern and nodding.

The Cowboy drops his cup onto the ground, swearing loudly. He takes a drink straight from the flask. Winces. "This is hard, Darrel. I don't know how you do it…with him in there and everything else floating around…"

Thomas Mercer baring his soul in my brother's hospital room isn't what I want. What I want is to tell him he's not Ponyboy's father but hell if this isn't the place. I should have told my brother. Now I'm just hoping I have the chance.

The Cowboy says, "Man, this fucks you up good, doesn't it?" and swirls the flask. Something tells me he's not talking about the booze. His eyes move to Ponyboy in the bed.

"I mean, hell Darrel, ever think about things you should have done in your life? Have the chance to do but never took it? I mean with that kid it's like I got a second chance somehow…"

My back cracks as I sit up straight in the chair. "You can't drink in here. If you want to drink go to a bar."

He stares at me and then nods and stands. Caps the flask. "You're right. I'm sorry about that Darry." His boots clack as he crosses the room.

Thomas Mercer pauses at the door before he leaves, says, "I don't know what I did before that kid came along."

I watch him leave.

Sometimes I don't know either.

OoO

All signs point to progress. According to his doctor, Ponyboy should be waking up anytime. He will wake up. How he'll wake up is a different story. One I can't even entertain.

Darry's girl comes by. Two-Bit's mom with food. Rita with tea for everyone. Eventually they leave; Two-Bit and Steve always staying.

It's only been two days and already I feel like I'm going crazy.

OoO

Whispered breath and an opening of something. Crackling sounds like a paper bag. A dry hand slips into mine. "You never were supposed to know but now…now if you don't…I'll never forgive myself..."

Foggy dark hits me before I realize I'm asleep. It's like I'm swimming through mud to wake up. The hand squeezes. The last thing I remember is a dog barking.

"Tomas is not your father, Ponyboy. I'm so, so sorry. I kept this for him but my mijo things look dark for you. If you must go, it is time for you to know. Your mother told me long ago. Sent me things because she knew the right. I knew too. Only I'm a coward. A fool. I tried to protect him…"

The voice goes on until a chair pushes back. I open my eyes as the door swings shut. I don't see who left.

A white room greets me, random cords strewn across my chest. I don't really realize what I've heard. In fact, I don't know a lot of things right now. But I don't care. I slip back into sleep.

OoO

"Eat something for chrissakes." Steve drops a sandwich in my lap.

"Thanks." I peel the plastic wrap off and take a bite. It tastes like mush. I swallow it fast.

Steve kicks his legs up on the row of chairs and reclines. We've claimed the small waiting area outside Ponyboy's room as our own. It's beginning to smell like smoke and trash and I'm wondering when the nurses are going to chase us out.

"I don't know how you're doing it," Steve says. He nods at Darry who's down the hall on the payphone talking to Josie. "I don't know how he's doing it. I would've decked the guy by now."

"Who?"

He gives me an exasperated look that tells me I'm losing it. "Who do you think? The Cowboy, Sodapop."

"I think you're more pissed off about it than I am Steve."

"Yeah well, someone's got to be. Besides I know you're worrying about the kid."

"We should have told him. Now if—"

"Don't," Steve says. "I already got Two-Bit moping around over this." He raises his eyes to the ceiling. "We all know he'll be okay. Ponyboy always comes up swinging. Shit, I still got to teach him the best way to launch a car."

I laugh and Steve joins in. we both watch as the Cowboy passes Darry in the hall and goes to the Nurse's Station. Darry frowns, hangs up the phone.

"You know," Steve says, sitting up. "I think Darry wants a fight." He sounds happy about it.

I sigh. "I think you're right."

OoO

I open my eyes again and the room is still white. Sterile. Smelling like cigarette smoke and antiseptic.

My head feels light and airy but I manage to sit up. This time the room comes into focus. I'm in the hospital. Shocked, I glance down, wincing at the IV in my hand. I take in the scene: the room's a mess. Newspapers and candy bar wrappers littered across the table. A deck of playing cards and Soda's DX cap. There's an ashtray on the nightstand that looks like it's seen better days.

Two-Bit's asleep in the chair next to my bed. I reach out and shake his leg.

He sits up with a snort. Blinking, it's as if he suddenly sees me and then jumps. "Kid! Jesus, you're awake—wait, tell me how many fingers—" He holds up a full hand.

"Um, five? Two-Bit, I don't see why you're—"

"Middle name."

"Michael."

"Hmmm…I guess I'll believe that. Okay, names of parents?"

"Darrel and Lara—but Two-Bit, what're you—"

Two-Bit reaches over, across my shoulder, and jabs the white button above my bed. "Now answer me this…one, final question that will determine everything. Elvis or the Beatles?"

"Elvis."

Relief crosses his face. "Glory, it's good to see you." He squeezes my leg beneath the blankets. "So fucking good."

"Was I hard to be seen?"

"Still a smartass." Two-Bit's smile is wan. "We were worried about you, Ponyboy. Docs weren't sure if you'd wake up."

"What happened?"

Two-Bit gives me a close stare, his gray eyes cloudy for once. "You don't remember?"

I think about it. "Maybe. I don't know." Two-Bit keeps glancing back at the door and that's when I realize he's waiting for the doctor to come in and interrupt us.

"You took a real knock on the head."

I reach up, touch the bandage on my temple. I wonder how close I came. Two-Bit presses the CALL button again.

"Scared the almighty shit out of us."

"Are they—"

"Oh, yeah. You can bet your ass they ain't far. Soda's showering in the bathroom…" Two-Bit holds up a hand. "Don't ask. And Darry's hunting down some coffee."

I think about it. I remember the storm, the Cowboy, vague memories that whirl and blur. There was a dark haired woman...someone in my hospital room…but the reason I was at the Cowboy's house that night escapes me.

Confused, I smear my face in my hands, cords dragging across me in all directions. Already I have a headache. "Oh, man…I don't—"

"Kiddo, don't worry about it," Two-Bit says softly. "Doc will get you good as new." I breathe slowly in my hands, trying to find lost thoughts.

"Pony."

I look at him through splayed fingers. Two-Bit's grinning for once. "What?"

"Happy birthday."

"Birthday?"

"Yeah, kid, you've been asleep for three days."

OoO

The door of the chapel creaks open and for a minute, I glance up, forgetting why I'm here. Margarita stands in the doorway. She takes a few tiny steps inside and then crosses herself. I haven't been in a church since my parents died. All it's come to mean to me is sorrow and grief.

"Pobrecito…" There's something white in her hands. It looks like paper. "Poor boy…"

I pinch the bridge of my nose. My world's falling down and my patience wearing thin. "I can't do this right now, Rita. I really can't."

"But Mister Darry, I must tell you…if he—if he—"

"He won't."

Rita holds out the whiteness. "You need to know…"

I blink fast, clearing my eyes. I'm about to answer her, ask her what, tell her to get the hell out, when there's an urgent voice over the loudspeaker, calling me to Ponyboy's room.

I run down the hall. Fast as I can.

OoO

The door opens, the doctor glances up, and then they're there. All of them.

OoO

He doesn't look good and he doesn't sound good, but he's awake and talking. That's all that counts.

Thankful, I squeeze Pony's hand. He's worried, watching the doctor talk with Darry and Thomas Mercer. Darry doesn't like it. His arms crossed against his chest, face reddening every time the Cowboy opens his mouth to give his opinion

I sit next to Pony on the bed, practically on top of him. "How do you feel kiddo?"

"Like I got hit by a Mac truck. A really big one."

"Pone, you have no idea."

Biting his lip, he asks, "Is our house okay?"

I have to laugh, leave it to my brother to worry about our house. "It's all in one piece, which is more than I can say for you."

Relieved, he smiles. "Good," is all he says.

Darry's voice rises. Pony raises his eyebrows. He looks tired and troubled. He needs rest. I touch his shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll find out what's going on."

"You want to keep it down?" I snap when I reach the circle hovering in the corner. The doctor looks annoyed. He clicks his pen, marks something on his chart.

"I was just telling these two, that we'll need to conduct some tests to evaluate the level – if any – of brain trauma. Barring that…Ponyboy will be weak for a few days. He'll need a little extra care…"

"That's why," Thomas Mercer speaks up, "Pony should stay at my place. You two have to work and Rita can—"

"I can take care of him," Darry says. "You don't have to worry about that."

"Oh, c'mon guys," Ponyboy groans from the bed.

The doctor continues, "As I was saying I don't want you all to worry too much. He looks fine…on the surface at least…he does has a slight fever, which should hopefully go away by the time we release him."

"Anything you need to do, I'll take care of it," The Cowboy says to the doctor. He glances at Darry. "I think it's important he stay with me."

"Thomas," Darry warns, his jaw jumping. It's clear – now that Ponyboy's fine and we know the Cowboy's not the father – Darry's not going to waste any time playing nice. Which is fine by me. We owe the Cowboy, but not this.

"I'm sorry," the doctor says. He pushes his glasses high on his nose. "I'm confused. Who should I be speaking with about Ponyboy?"

"I'm his guardian," Darry snaps, losing his cool. "You talk to me about anything relating to my brother."

Cowboy removes his hat. "Now Darrel—"

"You," I say to Thomas, "You need to go."

"I'm not trying to step on any toes. I just feel Pony would be better—"

"Get out," Darry booms causing the doctor to jump. I'm used to it by now. "Get out. I'm gonna deal with my brother and then I'm going to come deal with you."

OoO

Pardon typos.

Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter. So appreciated. I'm taking this story to an even 20 chapters (dear god, I know), so a few more to go.

Please read and review.

XO,

Feisty