Disclaimers: SE Hinton owns. Swearing.

Don't Want

OoO

"What's wrong, Pony?" Soda touches my chin, tipping it up.

I shake my head. "I don't…" My eyes move to Darry who's prowling around the room as he speaks with the doctor. "I don't really remember anything from that night. That day even…" My memory's spotty. A dark haired woman…Hannah maybe…Helen…

"Don't worry about that. We'll fix it."

I give him a grin. "I didn't know you were a doctor, Sodapop. Last I heard, you were a greaser." Soda laughs. The door slams as the doctor leaves. Darry strides over. "You're not going to fight the Cowboy, are you?" I ask.

"Don't worry about that," Darry says, tucking the edge of the blanket so tight under the bed that I can barely move.

"No, Dar, you can't—"

"Pony, just relax. I'm gonna talk to him." His eyes are hard ice.

"Right," I mutter, my throat full of razorblades. "Good thing we're already in a hospital."

Darry pats my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, but I notice he doesn't say anything else about the Cowboy. I lean back in the bed and yawn. I just want to go home. Get out of here and crawl into bed and sleep for a thousand years. My brothers look tired; exhausted really, on their last waking nerve but their relief is evident in their faces.

"When can I get out of here?"

"Soon, Ponyboy."

"Aw, c'mon, Dar. I'm sick of this place."

"You just woke up two hours ago, Ponyboy," Soda says. "Take it easy." He reclines in the chair next to my bed. Scowls at the machinery.

"Yeah, but I've been here for three days. I'm ready." Darry lifts a brow and I can see it's not going to be as easy as simply begging.

"You're not going anywhere," Darry says. "You got some tests firsts." He holds up a finger, silencing my protest. "Listen. I know you want to go home. We want that more than anything. But right now, you're gonna do everything the doctor says. From recite the alphabet backwards to every last state capital if that's what he wants. Until they make sure you're okay."

"And then," Darry says with a soft smile. "And then you can go home, kiddo."

OoO

Thomas Mercer is pacing the hallway, his green eyes flashing. "Darrel, I'm sorry if I said something you didn't like in there but I really feel it's best—"

"Thomas, you can take your best and shove it."

"We're all on the same side. We just want Pony to be okay."

"He will be okay. He's fine with us."

"Upsetting him isn't going to do him—"

My hackles rise. "Don't you dare pull this bullshit. He's my brother. I'm his guardian. Look, I've tried to be patient. Ponyboy likes you. But when you keep getting involved in our business I gotta cut you out."

I lower my voice as a nurse walks by, scowling at us. "There's no need for you to be involved anymore. Leave him alone."

"Like hell I will." The Cowboy draws himself up, arrogance replacing the concern. The same arrogance he had when he threatened to get the courts involved. "I don't suppose I need to remind you—"

"You've been reminding me long enough about that and this time it's done. No more of this shit."

I take a breath and turn away, not wanting to prove Ponyboy right by decking Thomas Mercer in the middle of the waiting room.

"If you think I'm going away without a fight, shit son, you got another thing coming."

I grit my jaw. It's been boiling inside for so long that when it comes, I don't stop myself. I turn around. "You're not his father," I boom. "You got that?"

Slowly, I walk back to him, standing close. "Did you hear me?"

Face clouding with surprise, he blinks and then recovers. "We've been down this road before, Darry. You heard what the doctor said."

"It was a chance, Thomas. And I have it on pretty goddamn good authority that he most definitely is not yours."

"That's—"

"She was never pregnant by you. It's his birthday today. Cindy Mathews told me what happened. My mom was wrong when she told you she was pregnant. That October, you were in Denver. "

He draws back, his brain trying to do the math quick, and then says, "Bullshit."

"Call it bullshit if you want, but we're done here. We're done with this. Take me to court. I don't care. I'll win."

OoO

It's late when he sneaks in, the door cracking to a slit. I know it's him by the shape of his hat. I squint as he turns on the bedside lamp.

"Visiting hours are over," I croak, wincing at the sound of my own voice. Thomas Mercer gives me a weak smile. I wonder what Darry said to him.

"I know they are. I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Goodbye? Where are you going?"

"Just back to the house. There're too many people here. I should let you get settled." He shrugs, settling on the edge of the bed. His hands flutter, like he wants to hug me but then he settles for crossing them against his chest. "I'll see you when you get out, right?"

"Sure you will," I say, struggling to sit up. "But— but are you okay?"

"Jesus, you're a good kid." This time he pats my cheek. "Get better, Pony. You had me worried. Real worried."

Thomas stands. "Get some sleep."

"I will," I say and he leaves, flicking off the light.

My hands fly up to grip the metal railings keeping me in bed. They stand out ghost white in the dark. There's something I should have told him. I just can't remember what.

OoO

"Who smuggled the cake in?"

Sheepishly I raise my hand. Darry tosses a long look my way – telling me he'll kill me if this gets our asses thrown out of Ponyboy's room. The doctor smiles.

"Don't worry. It's fine on my watch. Someone's birthday I take it?"

Darry clears his throat, shifting in the small hospital chair. "It's Ponyboy's."

"It was," Ponyboy amends. "I was asleep for most of it." Two-Bit blows a party horn. It emits a loud squeak. Ponyboy blushes, Steve scowls.

"Oh yes," the doctor says. "I remember reading that on your chart. 16 years old. Well, happy belated birthday, young man. You certainly deserve it."

Ponyboy blushes again, glances down at the top of the blanket. I give him a nudge; I'm practically crowding him on the bed. I can't let him go. "You didn't think you'd get out of your birthday that easily, did you?" I whisper, trying to coax a smile from him.

"Want a piece?" Two-Bit asks the doctor, gesturing to the cake. "It's like delicious bread. Only frosted. And chocolate."

"I'll take a rain check on that." The doctor raises fuzzy brows. Looks at me and Darry. "Can I talk to you both?"

Darry practically leaps out of the chair. I follow and the doctor talks low in a corner of the room.

The doctor launches into it. "Based on initial results your brother will be fine. He has a concussion, will get dizzy, but that will temper off. Right now I see more short term problems than long. Which is a good thing too considering your brother took a tree trunk to the face. He's got a hard head."

"You have no idea," Darry says, running a hand down his three-day-old beard.

"So…" I begin. "He's okay? The memory and all that?"

"It's short term. A day or so. It will return. Very soon – it'll come and he won't know what hit him." The doctor laughs, winces. "Sorry, phrasing." Darry looks annoyed but I don't mind. Someone's laughing at least.

The doc opens his chart, clicks his pen. "Easy on the stress and lots of rest. Should be simple."

"Right…" Steve's voice floats across the room. "Real simple with this kid."

OoO

Two day later I'm out of there. They made me work for it though. I had to do everything from walk a straight line to stare at dull flashcards. And Darry was right. I did have to recite the alphabet backwards. They sent me home with a ton of pills, medicine for water in the lungs, fever, and strict orders to rest.

I've had two concussions in two years. I'm a pro at this.

"God," Soda sighs as we walk through the front door. "I need a nap. Or a drink. Or both."

Darry takes my small bag full of dirty clothes, helps me inside. "You should go lie down, Ponyboy."

Deciding not to put up a fight and that the idea that a nap sounds really good right about now, I head to the bedroom. I crawl across my bed and flop down. Darry follows me back.

"You get some rest, you hear me?"

"I always hear you, Darry."

He cracks a smile, lounging in the doorway. "You need anything or—what?" He breaks off, seeing my face.

"What'd you say to him?"

"What?"

"What'd you say to the Cowboy in the hospital? He just left. He didn't come back either."

"I just told him something he should already know, is all."

Darry frowns under my stare. "Well hell, Ponyboy, since we're playing 20 questions, what were you doing at Thomas's that night? I told you to stay close to the house with the storm and all…and you go gallivanting around town, practically getting yourself—"

"Can we not do this now?" Soda asks, appearing behind Darry.

"I'm sorry," Darry says, sounding very not sorry. He looks at me. "I heard you were upset and—"

"I told you already, I told the doctor, I don't remember."

Soda shoots my brother a worried glance. "Dar, maybe we should te—"

"Not now Soda," Darry says sharply.

"Now now what? What?" I roll my eyes as Soda dips down to touch my cheek. I shake my head, sick of the fussing. I swear I was better off at the hospital. "Can you guys get outta here?"

Soda bites his lip ready to laugh but he holds it in.

"So what're you two talking about?"

"Nothing," Soda says.

"Look, don't worry about that. You heard the doctor. Get some rest." Darry's blue eyes flash. "It's nothing, kiddo."

I don't believe him. Darry can tell.

OoO

"Goddamn it."

"Darry…"

"Not yet, Soda."

"Okay, but when?"

"When he's better. We have to give him time."

"But Darry…"

It's hard on him. I can tell. Darry rubs his face. "He's sick. Upset. We can't just launch into this. At least not tonight." He raps his fist on the table. "Mercer won't do anything. I promise you, Sodapop."

"Okay." I take a breath, already knowing Darry's made up his mind, and that he's right. We've come so far, alienated each other, and now we're back.

OoO

The next morning Two-Bit's voice floats into the bedroom. "Oh shit, Pony don't—"

There's a loud splash and Soda's, "Steve, you son-of-a-bitch," and when I enter the room Ponyboy's drenched in water, Steve and Two-Bit standing in the kitchen, frozen.

A red plastic bucket rolls at my feet. "What in the hell happened?" I shout.

Steve's dark eyes are wide. "I swear to God Darry—"

My brother's near the coat closet, surprise etched on his face. Ponyboy sneezes. Water drips down his hair in a thick stream.

Mortified, Two-Bit says, "We uh, rigged that the day before the storm, before we knew what had happened and by then we forgot about the entire thing…"

"I hate you," Ponyboy says, looking miserable. "I hate you both."

Soda hands Pony a towel. "I'm going to kill you, Steve," he says, leading Pony away, towards the bathroom.

Steve sticks his hands out. "It was payback for the balloon ambush. Darry, I swear I didn't—"

I point at him. "I'm still gonna kill you, Steve."

OoO

"You okay, Ponyboy?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine."

I focus so the room doesn't spin.

The phone. The phone is what I'm staring at. Three days out of the hospital and he hasn't called. It's not that I want to hear from him…it's not. It's that I wonder why I haven't. And I wish I could remember.

Josie swivels around the house, making me dizzy. She dusts, she cleans, she makes lemonade. She's a good girl. I know why Darry likes her. He volunteered her to babysit me while he and Soda work and I almost feel bad for her.

I should be able to stay home alone but I know Darry's worried the Cowboy would find out and somehow use it as ammunition.

"It must be pretty boring around these parts," I tell her, stifling a cough that feels like it's been brewing for a lifetime.

Josie's smile is broad and toothy. "Never." She plops next to me on the couch, wraps a lanky arm around my shoulder. "I told Darry I'd keep his little brother company. You want to play hide and seek or something?"

I laugh, toss my book on the floor. "No thanks."

"I know. You're 16 now. An old man." Josie chuckles. "You're a cool kid, you know that don't you?"

"You ain't gotta watch me," I tell her. "You can go home."

She cocks a brow. "Right. Darry would flip."

"Darry flips at everything."

"I know." She presses a hand on my face, familiar-like. I remember Darry told me she has eight sisters. "He just loves you a lot."

I smile into my hand.

OoO

I see the first one. Rip the second envelope open. Tear through the third one. They're all paid. Every single hospital bill from Pony's stay has been marked PAID in a big, red stamp.

"You son-of-a-bitch," I swear, the papers crumpling in my hand.

"What is it?" Darry asks, entering the kitchen.

I show him. Instantly his face turns red. "He's still doing this," Darry growls. "Still can't back off."

It's a good thing – a lucky thing – that the bills are paid because Darry and I really couldn't afford them; but Thomas Mercer paying our way isn't something we want. We've never had anyone do it and we don't want it to start now.

"Dar, what're we going to do? I mean, shit, this guy won't back off."

"Nothing," he says, confident. "We don't do a thing Sodapop. We keep Pony away from him and if he comes after us we let him hang."

OoO

The phone rings and it's grabbed up quick. Five minutes later, Ponyboy sticks his head into my bedroom.

"Dar?"

"What kiddo?"

"Thomas wants to pick me and take me to go get something to eat."

I sigh, forget about the clothes needing to be folded. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"C'mon, I'll be quick."

"Ponyboy, you know I don't like it that—"

"That what? That I like him? I know you don't Darry, but does that mean that everything you don't like I can't like?" And then in a small voice, Pony says, "I'm sorry. I tried not to."

The point he makes slaps me in the face. It's a good one. One I don't want to accept at the moment. Pony stands in the doorway, skinny and stubborn, his arms crossed against his chest, his green eyes dull.

I wave a frustrated hand. "If you want to go, go. But you be home at seven on the dot, Ponyboy. You still aren't looking so good. I mean it," I say when he nods. "Don't make me come and find you."

"I won't, I will, Darry." He throws me a grateful smile as he leaves. I wish to hell Cindy Mathews could find those letters.

OoO

"You never called." I hate the way the sentence comes out: hurt, accusatory. I don't want to admit I'm any of those things, instead merely curious.

"Sorry kid, the days just kept getting away from me. I wanted to give you some time alone, so you could rest up and such." He peers close. "You got some more color in your face than the last time I saw you."

I push the sandwich around on my plate. "I don't think your brothers like me very much," the Cowboy says. "Keep telling me to stay away when they know I can't do it." He laughs like I'm supposed to agree with him.

"Say Ponyboy, you got enough help at that house? Someone staying with you while you're getting better?" I feel frozen, the conversation striking me as awkward, as the Cowboy continues to pry. "Because if not Rita would be more than happy to. She knows…"

I tune him out. Blackness clouds my vision, the vaguest memory: "…I knew too. Only I'm a coward. A fool. I tried to protect him…"

"We're good," I finally say. "We can do it ourselves. Thanks though. Really."

He shrugs: no problem and then grins a big grin. "I almost forgot." Then his long fingers are sliding a white envelope across the table.

Letters, I instantly think, and am unsure why. But when I press a hand on it, it's soft. "What's this?"

"Your birthday present. You didn't think I forgot did you?" He takes a sip of dark coffee. "Go on. Open it."

I do. It's cash. Five hundred dollars. I look up at him, my head swimming. "What is this?"

"It's for you. Your after-high-school fund." His lips turn up. "Now I won't say college, but god knows your smart enough…or if you just want to travel, see the world. Wait a few years before you go back to school. Whatever you want to do with it, you can."

I stick the money back in the envelope. Thomas looks surprised when I slide it back to him. "I think this is what they mean. You shouldn't do things like this."

"Like what?"

"Like this," I say. "My brothers, when they say you keep—keep butting in. You may not mean to but this is like showing Darry that you can do this and he can't."

I don't want the money. I don't want the advice about college, about my future. Darry and Soda work so hard, it would be like a slap in the face. Plus, I'm beginning to see what Darry has always been trying to tell me. The money, the advice; both are just ways for the Cowboy to have the upper hand, control. Maybe he doesn't see it, but I do.

Hurt flickers across his face. "I can't take it," I say. I pick up a fry, set it back down again. "I just can't."

We eat the rest of the meal in silence.

OoO

I don't tell Darry about the money. It'd hurt him too bad. Instead I go home, seven on the dot, and take my medicine. Huge pills for the headaches and dizziness. I swallow them down with a large glass of water but still feel sick.

Darry's on the phone with Josie, Soda out with Steve. It'd be normal if it all weren't so overwhelming. I feel like I'm still stuck in that pond, drowning, trying to find something I can't pull out of thin air. I keep turning the phrase over in my mind, "…I knew too. Only I'm a coward. A fool. I tried to protect him…"

I hear Rita's voice but I don't know what it means.

OoO

Pardon typos.

Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter. So appreciated. And sorry for the delay in posting. More to come soon…the wrap-up. Dunh DUNHHH.

Please read and review.

XO,

Feisty