A/N: Here's the next chapter. You guys are awesome with your reviews and your patience. I just ran out of hours in the date to write and then lost all of my muse and just... it's be a rough few months. So I apologize for that. As far as Jacquelyn being pregnant… Well you'll just have to keep reading and see won't you? Yes, yes you will.

DISCLAIMER: I still don't own The Outisders.

The sounds around her were muffled. She could vaguely make out words, her name was the one that was being said the most and by different people. There was one voice that was very familiar but she wasn't quite able to place it. It was coming from behind her and the voice was vibrating against her back. That meant that she was being held right? The more she focused on the voice the more familiar is sounded. Deep and lulling. Darry. Of course, she still couldn't place what he was saying.

She struggled to open her eyes. Her eyelids felt heavy. She could open her eyes a little and was able to see white. The walls were white, the ceiling was white, and the floors were white. She could make out the grey flecks in the white tiles on the floor. Why could she make that out? The cool feeling of the tile on the back of her legs started to settle over her. Was she on the floor? She was. She was being held and on the floor.

The cool feeling of the tile on her legs disappeared and was replaced with a lifting sensation. A sensation that she didn't really like because she could see who was lifting her and where she was going. She was operating blind. Uncomfortable with the lack of sight, the brunette tried to open her eyes again. She could see the white walls moving around her, but wasn't able to keep her eyes open longer enough to see where she was going. Then she tried again.

"Jacquelyn, relax," his voice demanded.

Startled by the voice, Jacquelyn's hazel eyes snapped open for a moment. A brief moment. Long enough to see that it was Darry who was carrying and speaking to her. After that, her eyes started to close slowly.

The next time she became consciously aware of where she was, Jacquelyn was tangled up in her quilt in bed. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead as she sat up with a start. Not the best idea she'd had. Her vision started to swim and her chest hurt. She leaned forward and crossed her legs as she placed her forehead on the quilt around her. It was then that she noticed that her whole body was coved in that thin sheen of sweat and she was breathing heavily.

"You okay?" his voice asked from what seemed like far away. Startled, she looked up quickly. Again, not the best idea. Her chest heaved and she found herself lying in the same position that she'd just sat up from. "I guess not." She heard his footsteps retreating. With every step he took, her head pounded. She could hear him in the kitchen, turning on the faucet, opening and closing the cabinet, getting ice, turning of the faucet and returning back to the bedroom. "Jacquelyn."

The brunette sat up, more slowly, and opened her light eyes. Darry was sitting on the edge of the bed, his face etched with concern, holding a glass of ice water. When her light eyes meet his, they struggled to focus in, and when they did, she saw that there was more than concern etched on his face.

"Drink this," he told her as he took her hand and wrapped in around the glass in her hand.

The glass chilled her hand as she took it from him. She hadn't realized how warm he was until just then. Jacquelyn brought the glass to her lips and shakily sipped on it. She wrapped both her hands around the glass and looked over at hm. "What happened?" she questioned carefully. Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears. She could remember bits and pieces of things. A phone call. Red lights. A nurses blue eyes.

"What do you remember?" he asked equally as slowly.

What did she remember?

"I remember Ponyboy driving and going to sleep," she said slowly. "Then you woke me up and then I went back to sleep." She paused. That was right, right? "Then, Soda…" It then hit her like a brick wall. God. She remember everything now. The call was from the hospital. She'd hit all the red lights on her way to the hospital. The nurse's blue eyes were apologetic, because her father had died. "Oh god," she said quietly. Her grasp on the cup in her hands loosened and Darry reached across her before the glass fell to the floor or wasted on the bed. "Oh, god," she repeated as she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. She felt sick. Her stomach turned as the events flooded back to her. She felt as sick in that moment as she had that day. Her fingers gripped at the sheets on the bed tightly.

"Jacquelyn," Darry said slowly.

Her skin felt hot, and it seemed that Darry realized this because he took a cube of ice from the glass and placed it on the back of her neck. Jacquelyn tensed at the cold sensation on her hot skin, but then relaxed. The cube of ice melted against her skin much fast than Darry would have liked. She'd been running a fever and her body was still a little too warm.

"I have to call my mother," the brunette said suddenly as she kicked the blanket off her legs and tried to stand up.

Darry grabbed her forearm and pulled her back down to the bed. "Don't move," he told her. "Just stay put. You've been out on and off for two days, just stay still."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Two days?"

"Yeah, me and Soda and Ponyboy have been taking turns looking after you. You've been running a fever," he told her. Darry reached out to touch her forehead. "It's starting to break though, so that's good. You want something to eat or no?" In response, she shrugged. "If I bring it back here, you gonna eat it?" She shrugged in response again. Darry sighed. "You're not gonna work with me until you call you mom?" To that Jacquelyn nodded. "Can you walk? Or even get up for that matter?"

Before she could answer, he'd moved off the edge of the bed and to the side she was sitting on. He took her wrist gently and pulled her over so her feet were touching the cool floor. For some reason that was soothing to her. The cold. He pulled her up to a standing position, she stumbled forward and placed her hand on his chest to stabilize herself. After a moment, she pulled from his grasp and started slowly towards the living room. Darry pushed his hands into his pockets and he tailed her. When she picked up the receiver, he moved into the kitchen.

Jacquelyn leaned against the wall and dialed the number to her mother's house. As it rang she tried to decide what she was going to say. Probably something that she should have said before she dialed the number. But she was never on for thinking that far ahead.

"Hello?"

"Mom," Jacquelyn said, testing the waters. Her voice still sounded foreign to her ears.

"Jackie, how unexpected," her mother mused slowly. "What can I do for you?"

This woman was her mother and she asked what she could do for her. What kind of parent was that? Of course, Jacquelyn wasn't fazed by it at all. Her mother has always been like that. A little too proper with her child and a little too cordial when talking to them. Almost as if she didn't care about what her daughter had to say. There had been a point in time where Jacquelyn had wanted her attention so badly that she would have done anything to get it, or ever have her acknowledge her, however that was long ago.

"Dad died," Jacquelyn said as calmly as she could managed while she ran her fingers through her messy hair. Their conversation had to be short and to the point. No beating around the bush. Her mother didn't like that.

"I beg your pardon?" her mother voiced.

She didn't sound concerned. She didn't even sound upset. Just highly inconvenienced. Sorry that the death of her ex-husband and father of her child was some sort of inconvenience. It was at that moment that Jacquelyn regretted even picking up the phone to call her mother. She could have just done it alone, without her mother's constant critiquing eye and aloof demeanor. Now she was going to have to plan a whole funeral and service with this woman.

"He got in an accident and I don't know, died," she said again.

That was the honest truth. She had no clue how her father had died. She assumed that since it was an accident, the accident involved alcohol. Most things involving her father did. However, she was sure that if alcohol was involved then there would be another victim, unless he had managed to wrap his car around telephone pole and be the only person hurt.

"Well, then, I'll be there as soon as I can. I have to find someone to watch the house and-"

Jacquelyn was completely flabbergasted. "As soon as you can?" the brunette sputtered. "You husband is dead and you'll get here a soon as you can?" Darry rounded the corner holding a steaming cup, she presumed that it was tea. "Really, mom?"

"I have to find someone to watch the house, Jackie," her mother replied with a sigh. "You're being dramatic."

Jacquelyn scoffed. "I'm, I'm-"

Darry reached over her shoulder and took the phone from her. "Hello, Ms. Ross, it's Darrell Curtis." He paused, as he did he handed the steaming cup to her and pointed towards the sofa. With her eyebrows furrowed, she took the cup and headed towards Darry's chair. "Yes, ma'am. We'll hold off on preparation for a few days." Another pause as Jacquelyn brought the cup to her lips. "Yes, ma'am. Okay. Goodbye." Darry placed the phone on the receiver and looked over at the brunette.

'You didn't have to do that,' she said. Her way of saying thank you.

"You were being dramatic." His was of saying you're welcome.

To that Jacquelyn rolled her eyes and sipped on the tea. "What did she say?"

"She'll be here tomorrow," he replied as he moved her from the chair and sat down. Jacquelyn then sat on the arm of the chair with her legs across Darry's lap. He watched as she wrapped her hands around the cup and sigh. "What's wrong?" he questioned.

Jacquelyn shrugged and brushed her fingers through her messy hair. "I don't know."

Darry was quiet for a moment as he studied her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," the brunette replied immediately. "Not really."

"Whenever you're ready."

When his parents had died, she was there for him. She sat next to him on his bed and said nothing. Sometimes she would sit next to him and tell him about whatever came to mind, trying to bring him back to reality. But mostly, she told him that she loved him. She told him that they were gonna get though it okay. He never talked to her about how he felt about his parents deaths. The only time he cried in front of her when he found out. After that, he didn't cry about it in front of her. He also never thanked her for what she did for him. The sleepless nights when she watched him shattering lamps and punching holes in the wall out of anger and frustration. The cold shoulder that she got at night when she went to lay her head on his shoulder. She'd put up with all of it. She put up with all of it. because she loved him and she understood that. She understood that love meant putting up with the other person when they were going through the roughest of the roughest patches. She understand that at such a young age, and he never thanks her for it.

But now he had a chance. He could show her how grateful he was to have her in his life and how grateful he was that she had tried to help him in his time of need, even though he didn't want it.

"Thank you," Jacquelyn replied, pulling him from his thoughts about how he was going to show her all these things.

He supposed that it was time to show her instead of thinking about it.