If this feels a bit confusing first, I suggest you to re-read the very beginning of this story - it actually starts with November 5, Soda meeting Ponyboy at the hospital. This chapter takes place right after the first paragraph in Chapter 1.

A Place Deep Within

Sixteenth Chapter - Don't say you're sorry

November 5 - morning

I watch him smoke. He's pale, the dark circles under his eyes stands out against his skin. I notice his hand trembles a bit. He gives me a confused expression when I say we're going home.

"Oh." He takes another drag on the cigarette. "Now?"

"Yeah." I don't know how to act. Pony's so different than he use to be. If everything had been normal, I had rushed into the room once the door opened up, bounced around, grabbed him along in a swift moment. But this is not normal, and everything feels too slow, too quiet. I can't be myself in here. I don't belong here, and neither do Pony.

"I'm dizzy," he says. "They give me these... these...um... pills." I don't say anything, just curse them in my head. "Don't know if I can stand up, Soda," he mumbles.

"Come on," I say. "I'll hold ya."

He glides down from the bed. He wears a t-shirt and a pair of black pyjama pants, and I look around, but his room is empty of everything else. There's only a bed and white walls.

"What did you mean, Johnny's doctor?" I have to ask while we leave the room. I hope he's not back in denial again. Because they said...

"I was just thinkin'. He was here. This morning."

"Johnny's doctor?"

He leans heavy on my arm, his other hand still holds the cigarette. He nods. "Yeah. He told me about him... Johnny... why he... died."

"He did?"

"Mhm. He was nice."

"What about yours?" I stop, and he glance at me. "Pone... everythin's okay? Have your doctors been nice to you?"

He shrugs. "I guess."

"Pony..."

He knows what I want. "Yeah, they're nice, " he says. We stand in the middle of the corridor, locked doors in the walls at both ways. I'm really not sure why he was locked in. Why they would lock anyone in at a place like this. The nurse's word for it was safety when I asked, but safety from what, I can't tell. I doubt anyone in here is dangerous. They're just kids. "There's this... um... she talks a lot. Wants me to do it... talk. But I don't know..." His voice trails off. I know he doesn't like to talk to strangers. And even if I'm bad thinking it, I'm glad he didn't spoke to Dr. Lee instead of me.

"You mean Dr. Lee? What about Dr. Nelson?"

Pony takes a last drag, and I take the cigarette from him. I put it out on my sole before throwing it on the floor. I can't see any trash bins.

"Yeah... I don't know, Soda... I didn't see him much."

"We can talk more when we get home," I tell him, seing how uncomfortable he is and nudge at his arm. "Let's meet up with Darry and get outta here."

Pony smiles, and we start walking. We have almost reached the door to the waiting room when someone shouts behind us. I want to take Pony and run, afraid that the voice wants to stop me from taking him out from here, but when I turn around to glare, I recognize her. It's the nurse. She holds a bag in her hands.

"It's his things," she says, a bit taken aback by my expression. She's handing them to me. "Good bye, Ponyboy." She's not much older than us.

"Bye." His gaze are on the floor. The nurse smiles at me and walks away, and Pony and I continues at our direction.

In the waiting room I push him down in a chair. I find his shoes and jacket in the bag, and help him to put them on.

"Are you sure we can go?" he whispers to me.

XXX

November 5 - morning

I sit in the backseat with him. Darry observes us through the rear mirror while driving, a light frown at his forhead.

"How is he?" he asks, and I have lost my count on how many times he has uttered those words. Otherwise, he's been unusually quiet since he met up with us.

"Asleep." I grin at him. "So much for insomnia, right?" I knew they were wrong.

We reach our house, Darry pulls up our car on the driveway, and I have an odd feeling of déjà vu when he picks up and carries our brother into our home. He has done that once before. Then we got our brother home from Windrixville, from the fire, bleached in hair and dirty from the smoke. Then we were just happy to have him back. Alive. This time... I'm still scared. I hope this hasn't destroyed more than what it gained.

Darry puts Pony on our bed, I drape a quilt over him, and then we both sits down in the couch. It feels like a whole day has passed since we left, but when I watch the clock, it's still morning. I lean back, closing my eyes.

"That was a stupid thing to do," I say with emphasis.

"Bring him home?" Darry sounds surprised, and I look up.

"What? No! I mean the whole thing with the hospital." I gesture with my hand. "You shouldn't have left him there. They didn't do nothin', Darry. They said so themselves, he was already out of that... ya know." I can't even say it. Darry seems hurt, but I can't help but accuse him a bit.

"We had no choice, Soda. You're forgettin' about the state." His voice is strain. But he's right. I do. So I just sigh, closing my eyes again. I should apologize to him, but I can't. Ponyboy's school told us, threaten us to get help, but I'm not sure this was what they had in mind. We shouldn't be so scared of them.

"But they can't hurt us now, can they?" I ask. I don't know if I mean the school, the state, the hospital or all three, I just have a bad feeling for this.

"I hope not."

I look up for a second time when I hear the rustle of paper. Darry has them in his hands, stares at them, then suddenly rips them apart.

"What was that?"

"The prescriptions."

"Oh." I bite my lip. "Can he just stop takin' the pills?"

Darry nods. "Yeah. He shouldn't be withdrawal, he's taken them for a so short while." He takes the pieces and dents them into a ball. "I can't believe they crammed him full of that shit." He goes up and disappears into the kitchen. I hear how he slams with the cabins, and suddenly I feel how hungry I am. I'm just about to shout to Darry when I hear something. It's Pony.

"Soda?" He appears in the living room, clutching his body with thin arms.

"Hey, Pone!" I rise, trying to keep the concern out from my voice. "What is it?" I lay my hand on his shoulder, feeling the bones underneath. They said he didn't eat, I remember. "You hungry?"

"A little."

I take his hand and drags him along, and this time, he seems more steady on his feet. Darry smiles when we step into the kitchen, placing a plate with sandwiches in front of us. When we eat, Darry and I talk about everything except the hospital. Pony seems happy. A bit tired perhaps, but I recognize him as my brother. Maybe it's true, maybe we soon can leave all this behind us.

XXX

November 6 - evening

Pony's still asleep. After we had finished our meal yesterday, he crawled to bed again, asking me to join him, and I did. I had a feeling he didn't wanted to be alone. I called in sick today to stay home with him. I don't even know if he really notice that I'm here - he only wakes up now and then to stumble to the bathroom, or when I wake him up to give him food - because afterwards he just hides under the cover again, without a word. I sit on the bedside, watching him when Darry comes home from work.

"Hi," he says from the doorway, pulling his jacket off. "Everything's all right?"

"Think so," I say. "He has slept all day."

Darry frowns. "Has he eaten some?"

"Yeah," I say, and that's true. He did eat all I gave him, a sandwich, a bowl of soup, a bowl of cereals. It's not much for any other of us, but for Pony it is. At least these days, since Windrixville.

"Good." He looks uncomfortable, and I wonder why. He has been distant towards me, like he's thinking of something he refuses to tell me. I hope it has nothing to do with Pony.

He leaves, and I turn my gaze back to the sleeping form again. He looks peaceful. I want to keep him this way forever, and that scares me. I know I can't lock him in. I don't want that either. But I also know that we soon must throw him out in the world again. And that scares me even more.

XXX

Nine years ago - spring

"We have to tell Pony," I say, staring at the dead bird. Three days ago, it flew right into the kitchen window, and since then, it has lived in a shoe box in the back yard. But sometimes today, it just died.

Steve stands with his hands deep down in his pockets, kicking lightly into the grass. "It's not his bird," he says, annoyed.

"He's the one feedin' it," I say. "He named him Chirpy."

"Stupid name, "Steve replies. "It's a fuckin' crow. They don't chirp. They croak."

"Doesn't matter, he's gonna be sad anyway." I sit down on my heels, poking at the black feathers. It's really dead.

A car door slams, and we hear running feet. Pony rounds the corner of the house, his cheeks are red.

"How's Chirpy?" he says, staring down at the box. "Why is he lyin' like that?"

The bird is on its side, the thin legs sticks stiffened out from the body.

"It's dead, can't you see?" Steve blurts out. I push at him, afraid Pony's gonna cry. But he doesn't. He sits down beside me.

"Poor, poor Chirpy," he says. "I'm sorry!"

"It wasn't your fault Pony," I comfort him. "Maybe he was old."

"No, he was just a baby, " Pony tells me.

"He wasn't, " Steve snorts. "How can you tell?"

"We havta bury him," Pony says, ignoring Steve. "That's what you do when someone dies." He gets up and leaves us for the garage, coming back with a small, red shovel. But it's too early in the spring, the ground's too hard. Pony sink to his knees, biting his lip while trying to dig a hole for his bird. He gives up, throwing the shovel away.

"We can ask Darry," I say, knowing that Dad's still at work and Mom's gonna start with the dinner soon. I get him, and he comes, glad to be extracted from his homework. He digs the shallow grave in the corner of the lawn, and we put the crow in it, cover it with dirt. Then we lay early spring flowers on top.

"Where's Chirpy now?" Pony asks me, staring at the resting place.

"He's in bird heaven."

"Is that a good place?"

"Yup. He can fly and eat and be a bird or an angel," I say. "A bird angel."

Pony seems to think. "Oh," he says after a while. "Does he have four wings then?"

I shrug. "Dunno."

"Bye, Chirpy," Pony says. "I'm gonna visit him every day," he tells us. And we all do, for a week. Then we starts to forget about him, distracted by other things and games. Like kids do.

XXX

November 7 - evening

I'm thankful for Two-Bit. We can't miss more work, but leave Pony alone is not an option. So when our friend turned up this morning, we didn't even had to ask. He just pushed Darry and I out onto the porch and slammed the door.

I step inside after a long day at the DX, finding him in our recliner, holding a magazine in his hands. Pony lays on the couch, eyes closed. He doesn't look up when I greet them. I throw my jacket at the little table beside the door and miss. My shoes lands in the corner when I kick them off.

"Whazzup?" Two-Bit says, dumping the magazine on the coffe table. "I'm bored."

"Why? Is he asleep?" I look at Pony with concern.

"Whole day long," Two-Bit says, confirming my suspicion. "Hey, Kiddo!" He leans forward, pushing at Pony's leg. "Wake up, Soda's home."

Pony shifts, then rolls around, almost falling to the floor, but he catch himself before. He sits up, rubbing his eyes.

"Hi Soda."

I plop down beside him, watching him. He looks better today. I glance up at Two-Bit, who slowly makes his way to the front door.

"I should go," he says, giving a quick grin. "Se y'all tomorrow."

I want Pony to talk to me, and I bet he knows. He breaks the silence first.

"Where's Darry?"

"At work. He'll be home in a few hours," I say. "I'm sorry we have to work, Pone."

"It's okay." He knows we have to. He open his mouth, then close it again.

"What is it?" I ask, and he looks away.

"I want to visit them, Soda."

I feel shivers down my spine, and his face goes red when he sees my expression. "Damn it, Soda, I mean their graves. I know they're dead. I can say it! I already did before you took me to the hospital ya know. Dead, dead, dead! Johnny's dead and Dally got shot, okay! I saw them, I know-"

I grab his arm. "Ponyboy, please..."

"I'm sorry!" he says softly, trying to shuffle away from me. "Okay?"

I release him, slowly let go of my breath. "You don't have to say you're sorry, it wasn't your fault, " I say to him.

"But it was, Soda. I mean, I should've known all the time. You, you just don't forget things like that." He shakes his head, fast. "I mean, deep inside, I think I knew all the time, ya know. I must have. Because he died, right in front of me. Johnny. They both did. I remember everythin' now, Soda. Johnny just... died. And he looked... and Dally ran and the police... and I forgot it. What kind of friend does that, Soda?"

"Pony... you didn't forget! You were sick. They explained it to us."

"But... it can happen again, can't it?" He sounds worried. "I can forget it again?"

"No, you can't," I assure him. "You're fine, Pony."

"I know they're dead," he says, and his voice is so hollow. "I just wish they wasn't."

I lean my head on his. "Me too, Pony."

When Darry comes home Pony's alseep again, his head in my lap. I try not to worry about his tiredness, figure he just needs to catch up lost sleep. Darry sits down, rubbing his knee.

"How is he?"

"He's okay." I stare at him. "Darry, tell me."

"I bruised my knee at work."

I raise my eyebrows. He knows damn well I don't mean his knee. "Somethin's buggin' you. Is it somethin' about Ponyboy?"

"No."

"Then what is it? Darry, you gotta tell me, cause if it is about Pony-"

He hides his face in his hands. "It's not Pony. It's me."

"You?"

"Yeah..." He takes a deep breath. "It was my fault, Soda."

"Don't go there again, Dar. You shouldn't have hit him, but it was the Socs who-"

He interrupts me. "Not that." He looks up, his face is red. "It was my fault that he got sick."

Next chapter is The Last One... and reviews are always nice :) Thanks!