A/N: I do not own The Outsiders. All rights belong to SE Hinton.

Four Days Until Dawn

Installment 1: Darkness

XXX

Soda held the door open as Darry carefully made his way up the porch steps, Ponyboy's still form cradled in his arms. Worry and exhaustion painted their faces. Darry had already had to battle it out in a tug of war a few hours ago, and although he'd won, he still wasn't totally convinced he'd done the right thing. However, there had been no alternative, he'd done what he financially had to do.

All night long, he and Sodapop had held vigil at their youngest brother's hospital bedside watching him sleep; flanked on either side by their remaining closest friends who couldn't see it within themselves to leave. Already their number was down by two. The thought of a third fading away worried them more than they'd ever say. However, words didn't need to be said. It was obvious in their eyes, their faces; the anxious body language that screamed volumes despite their still tongues.

The hospital staff had been accommodating, allowing them to stay despite visiting hours having ended. Technically, Darry had the right to stay – as legal guardian, Darry had the same rights as any other parent of any other kid admitted on the ped's floor. Soda and the others could have been forced to leave, however, the charge nurse turned a blind eye to the worried four that stood steadfast to the youngster's bedside. Despite their looks - the muddied, torn clothes, bruised jawlines and skinned knuckles; they'd caused no trouble. They just sat, kept watch over the boy, spoke words of comfort amongst themselves and bothered no one.

However, late in the afternoon of the next day, the doctor who'd admitted Ponyboy changed his mind and wanted to turn the boy's 24 hour observational hold into a full blown admission. Darry, who'd already spoken with the financial officer during the wee hours of the night, knew he was facing financial collapse. He'd taken most of last week off searching in vain for Ponyboy and Johnny, so his check would be barely worth the paper it'd be written on; and he had no insurance to cover the medical bills that had already racked up. Darry's only choice was to take his brother home and care for him there.

"Can he go home?" Darry'd asked carefully when the doctor was done examining his sleeping brother.

The doctor'd looked shocked. Never had he released a still-unconscious patient to family, let alone a pediatric patient. "Mr. Curtis, I wouldn't recommend it. He needs to stay here, at least another night."

And so the tug of war began. The doctor had his say, noting Pony's unchanged condition; Darry countering with assurances that Pony would be watched closely and would fair better in his own bed. In the end, the doctor capitulated and wrote the discharge orders. At the doctor's table - situated down the hall in the far corner of the nurses station, his frustration was evident.

"He's making a mistake. That boy needs to stay here."

The nurse watching said nothing, knowing this doctor's mannerism's too well by now. Finally, he recapped his pen, closed the chart and stood up to leave – all in a huff. The nurse waited for him to disappear then picked up the chart, sighed and started the papers, eventually going in to have Mr. Curtis sign them.

"Here," she said softly, handing him a small package before going over the discharge papers. She'd known what the issue was. She'd seen too many youths from the East side grace these hallways before. They were all different - some old, some young, yet they all had been cut from the same bolt of cloth. Beneath the grease and dirt and often impoverished conditions, they all had heart. They tended to forget that as they aged, but illness usually seemed to jog their memories. Unless – as was the case of Dallas Winston - they'd grown cold and refused to feel warm again.

Until they faced death. Then the heat burned them.

With gentle fingers, she handed him a book - a slip of paper containing her phone number sticking out. "I took care of his friend, Johnny, just before he passed away. He'd needed rest, but was determined to talk. He spoke of your brother; seems he and Ponyboy were very good friends. He'd made me promise to get this back to him. I didn't know how until Ponyboy was admitted. Then – considering his condition, I wasn't sure when the right time was. But, now that he's going home, this is the only time I have."

Darry took the book and slid it in his pocket. He turned his attention to the bundle of papers in her hand, but she reached out and touched his hand carefully. "Look, this isn't going to be easy. Once you get home ... should you need any help, call me. Anytime. My number is there."

Darry understood her meaning and was grateful. The nurse slid the boy onto a gurney and rolled him to the hospital's front door where Sodapop was waiting with the truck. Darry slid one arm under Pony's shoulders; the other under his knees and lifted, carefully sliding his youngest brother into the middle seat of the truck and scooted in next to him, holding him close so he wouldn't fall over. A nod was given and Soda put the truck in gear, driving more carefully than he ever had in the past.

Now home, Darry lifted Pony's form again and carried him up the steps, through the house and laid him on his and Soda's bed.

"You wanna leave him in that hospital get-up or dress him?" Soda asked, the uncertainty audible in his voice. The bandage around his brothers bruised and battered head was what troubled him the most. Soda understood Pony's injuries – the concussion worried him the most. He was silently terrified they'd do something to make it worse. A head was not a football, it couldn't take being kicked around. At least in the hospital, there was someone trained to go to for help and answers, here it was just them. Cars he could fix, people – he couldn't.

"Lose the gown," Darry answered softly as he lifted Ponyboy to him to reach the strings down his back. Pony lay limp in Darry's arms as Soda pulled the flimsy gown off, feeling the unnatural warmth of Pony's skin against his own. He let the guilty feeling that Pony lay in this state because of him persist just for a moment, then drew a breath and regained control over himself again. He gave his sleeping brother another look, noticing the many bruises from the rumble under the dirt still on his skin. The nurses had tried to clean him, but had done a less than stellar job.

"Soda, go start a bath. Not hot, just comfortably warm."

Soda looked questioningly at Darry, then went to do as asked. When he came back, Darry had finished stripping Pony down to what God had given him and had laid as many towels as he could find out on the bed.

"Tub's ready," Soda said.

Darry nodded and picked Ponyboy up again, carefully carrying him to the bathroom. He slid Ponyboy into the water, grabbed a washcloth and the soap, and started cleaning him up. Soda and Darry worked in silence; fear, worry and fatigue zapping them of their usual banter. Only the sounds of washcloths being dipped into the water while one body part after another was gently cleaned broke the stillness. In stark contrast, Darry's thoughts were loud. And painful.

Darry knew Dallas's body was being cremated today, he'd overheard it while getting coffee by the nurses desk. He'd stalled by the pot long enough to hear a nurse give a wary chuckle and mention Dally's name. Apparently Dally had said something offensive to one or more of them when he in the hospital just a few days ago; and now - while none of them had caused his death, none of them seemed particularly sad to hear he was gone, either.

"Well, he got what was coming to him. I knew that hood was no good," she'd said lowly, as if not wanting to be overheard outside her circle, yet unaware she had been. None of them had anything nice to say about Dallas, and with a heaviness in his chest, Darry'd gone back to Ponyboy's room, back to their vigil.

Glancing at Soda, Darry didn't share that with him, not now. Probably not ever.

"We gonna wash his hair?" Soda asked, looking at the grains of sand sticking to Pony's unnaturally bleached locks. Mud from the rain-soaked rumble had dried and was still mired in his hair.

"Yeah."

"But what about....." Soda started, unsure.

"He'll be fine. Just hold him up and I'll do it." Soda held Pony under his armpits, letting his head rest against his forearm while keeping him from sliding deeper into the water. Darry removed the bandage and poured cup after cup of water over his youngest brother's hair. With delicate fingers, he massaged the shampoo in; acutely aware of the injured side of his head. With fresh warm water from the tap, Darry rinsed until the shampoo was gone.

Satisfied, he picked Ponyboy up and carried him back to his room, laying him on top of the towels to dry him. Once his hair was as dry as they could get it, Darry wrapped fresh gauze back around his head. They managed to finagle a pair of his briefs on him and finally called it quits. Darry got the warm comforter off his bed and wrapped it over Ponyboy, looked at his sleeping brother once more, and squeezed Soda's shoulder.

"I'm beat, gonna go lay down for a while. You gonna stay here with him?"

"Yeah, I ain't going nowhere. I'm gonna crash too. Don't worry, I'll wake you if something happens."

Darry nodded and headed off down the hall.

XXX

Calla Lily Rose