Author's Note: I apologize in advance for slow responses to reviews on either of my stories as well as PM's. I still don't have internet in my new house (posting this from work, shhhh!). But reviews are my favorite and I love chatting with reviewers! Thank you!

Chapter Thirty

Restless

Sodapop felt like he couldn't focus on anything. Everything just seemed so surreal. He couldn't even get his mind around how this was actually happening right now. He had always been afraid for Two-Bit and Steve since they each became eligible to be drafted, but somehow after he had been drafted it seemed like maybe that wouldn't happen. Like maybe his sacrifice would somehow help to protect the rest of the gang from having to go through what he had been through.

It seemed that life had other plans for them though.

Soda and Steve had gone back out into the living room to join the others, not exchanging any more words about what would happen, at least for now. They still had some time – not a lot, but some – and tonight all they could do was try and process what was happening.

There were a few weak attempts at conversation, but for the most part the Greasers just sat together, all under one roof wondering how much longer they would still be a gang of five. How much longer could they all last before they lost another one of their own? Suddenly it seemed that life was intent on taking as much away from them as possible. Like it was inevitable that they would lose someone else too soon.

"Steve, you wanna stay here tonight?" Darry asked, breaking a long silence. Soda looked up at the clock on the wall, realizing for the first time how late it was getting.

Steve looked at him. "Yeah," he said simply.

Darry nodded. He stood up and headed down the hall, returning a minute later with a few pillows and blankets. He tossed a few to Steve then looked over at Two-Bit.

"You're welcome to stay too," he told them. Two-Bit simply nodded, uncharacteristically quiet. It seemed only natural that they would all stay together under one roof for as long as they could. "C'mon, it's gettin' late," Darry prompted, looking around at everyone. "We should all get some sleep."

Everyone started moving around and Soda wasn't aware that he was supposed to be moving too until Darry crouched down in front of the recliner he was sitting in.

"C'mon Soda," he said gently. "Time for bed."

Soda nodded. His eyes shifted over to Steve who had stopped to watch him. He could see that Steve was looking at him differently now. It was like he was studying him, wondering if war would change him the same way it had changed Soda. He couldn't imagine that his reaction to all of this was very comforting to Steve, but he didn't know how to fix this. He allowed Darry to help him out of the recliner and turned and started to hobble out of the living room.

"'Night, Steve," Soda said quietly, glancing back over his shoulder at Steve, who was still looking at Soda with a strange look on his face.

"'Night, Soda," Steve returned, his tone a bit flat.

As Soda entered the bedroom he found that Pony was already ready for bed. Soda closed the door behind him and went to get ready for bed as well. As he went to change he found the task much more difficult than usual. He couldn't find his pajamas and then he had trouble pulling off his t-shirt.

"You need some help?" Pony asked after watching him for a few minutes.

Soda sighed. At nineteen years old he shouldn't need help getting changed for bed, but today with his mind elsewhere as well as his injury he was forced to admit that he just didn't have the brainpower for this simple task.

"Thanks, Pony," he said after he was finally changed.

"Are you okay?" Pony asked carefully.

Soda climbed into bed. "I guess," he said quietly.

Pony hesitated but a minute later he climbed into bed as well. Soda rolled over and threw his arm over Pony's shoulders, trying to find some comfort in feeling close to someone.

A few minutes later there was a soft knock at the door. Soda didn't even turn over as he listened to the door slowly open and then close again. He wasn't up for talking with anyone; he just wanted to disappear into the bed.

"Soda?" It was Darry's voice. Soda didn't move, hoping that he'd think he was asleep already. He felt the bed dip as Darry sat down on the edge. "Soda?" Soda grunted. "Are you doin' okay?"

Soda rolled over and glared at him. He didn't want sympathy right now. "What the hell do you think?" he snapped. "But I'm not the one you should be worried about anyway. I'm not the one being shipped thousands of miles away from home to fight in someone else's bullshit war. Not this time anyway."

"Soda, it's gonna be-"

Soda cut him off. "Don't tell me it's gonna be okay," he said, a note of pleading in his voice. "'Cause you don't know that. I know what happens over there. No one's guaranteed to come home from that. No one…"

"That doesn't mean that he won't come home, though," Darry said. "You came home."

Soda sighed. "Just barely," he murmured. "And I didn't exactly come back the same person." He paused. "I know Steve. I know what he's gonna see over there. All it's gonna do is fuel his anger. He's gonna be a hot head, and hot heads get themselves killed over there." Suddenly he realized there were tears in his eyes. Somehow he just couldn't see Steve coming back from war. At least not the same person he was now. If he came back he would be more destructive and violent and angry at the world.

Darry frowned down at him, clearly not sure what to say to that. "I'm sorry, Soda," he finally said quietly.

Soda rolled over, putting his back to Darry. "I really don't wanna talk about this right now," he mumbled. Or ever again… he added silently.

Darry sighed. He reached over and gave Soda a pat on the shoulder. "Okay, little buddy," he said. He heavily got to his feet, but paused at the door. "'Night Pony, 'night Soda. Sleep well."

But Soda knew it would be a long time before he slept well again.

XxXxX

"Soda! Soda, please wake up! Sodapop!"

Soda gasped as his eyes flew open, his survival instincts immediately kicking in as he shot up into a sitting position and flung out an arm to push the figure next to him away. He heard a thump as he blinked through the darkness, his heart pounding as he tried to figure out his surroundings.

"Soda? Soda it's okay. You're home."

Soda's eyes moved to the figure in the room. He knew that voice. The figure moved around and a moment later the light in the bedroom came on. Soda sighed as he took in the familiar room and his little brother standing near the door, his hand still on the light switch. Soda slumped over and put his head in his hands.

"Sorry, Pony," he said quietly. Then he looked up at his brother, searching him critically. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Pony shook his head as he carefully approached the bed again. "No, I'm fine," he assured him. Soda nodded, feeling relieved. "Did… did you have a nightmare?"

Soda looked up at him, not missing the irony of the situation. "I'm okay," he said, trying to avoid directly answering the question. "C'mon back to bed. I'm sorry I woke you."

Pony looked at him unsurely. A moment later he turned and for a second Soda thought he was going to leave. But he flicked the light back off and crawled back into bed all the same. As they got themselves settled again Soda found it odd that Darry hadn't appeared. "Did I make much noise?" he asked. Perhaps he had managed to only disturb Pony tonight.

Pony shook his head. "No, not really," he said. "You were just kinda… thrashing around." He paused. "Are you scared for Steve?" he asked carefully. "Do you really think he might not come back?"

Soda sighed heavily. "Yeah, I am scared for him," he admitted quietly. "I lost count of how many close calls I had over there. And for every close call I had it seemed like someone else in our platoon didn't make it. Sometimes more than one. You've seen Steve in the middle of a rumble… he lets his anger get the best of him so easily that sometimes he just loses his head for a minute. In war… you just can't afford to do that."

"Maybe you could talk to him," Pony said. "Maybe if you tell him about that then he will try harder to keep his head."

"Yeah, maybe…" Soda said unconvincingly. He just couldn't see how this would turn out alright. "Go back to sleep, Pony, you got school in the morning."

Pony moved closer to him and Soda gratefully threw an arm over him, needing the comfort of his little brother's presence more than he was willing to admit. As Pony drifted back off to sleep Soda lay awake, trying to rid himself of the horrific images he had gotten from his subconscious in his nightmares. He had imagined so many different scenarios in which Steve could be killed. His memories came back to him, replacing American soldiers he had seen killed in action with his best friend. And it hadn't stopped there. Two-Bit, Darry and even Pony somehow made their way into his nightmares, and Soda was forced to watch them as soldiers and all the ways they could be killed. Just thinking about it made him feel ill.

Without thinking about it, Soda pulled his little brother in closer to him as if he could somehow protect him. With a pang he realized that he couldn't protect him. He couldn't protect anyone from what he had been through. If the government decided to take anyone away from him, all he could do was watch helplessly.

Soda wasn't even aware that he was crying until he choked on a sob. Everything just felt so wildly out of his control. There was nothing he could do to stop this from happening. He felt so very small in that moment, like they were all just pawns in some bigger game that they didn't even completely understand nor did they have any say in.

Soda was thankful that Pony had been so tired he had fallen back asleep and didn't have to witness this break down. He drifted off a few times throughout the night, but always woke with a start from vivid nightmares. Each time he would pull his sleeping brother in closer to him as he fought back tears.

He wondered, not for the first time, if all this bloodshed was really worth tearing so many families apart. And he wondered if this war would ever end.

XxXxX

Out in the living room Steve lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He was laying on the couch and Two-Bit was stretched out on the floor with a few blankets and a pillow, snoring lightly. Steve had heard a small commotion coming from Soda and Pony's room a little while ago, but it had been pretty quiet since. Under normal circumstances he might have gone to make sure Soda was okay, but tonight he just couldn't bring himself to.

Everything had changed so much in the blink of an eye with the discovery of one simple letter. Suddenly Soda's pain was so much more real and tangible because very soon it could be his pain as well. Every time he saw Soda wince he wondered if he would get injured and be in constant pain as well. Every time he saw Soda's eyes glass over as if he were somewhere else altogether he wondered he if would do that as well. But the most important question of all… he wondered if he would even be able to manage to come back from this.

Steve Randle was a tough hood from the rough streets of Tulsa, Oklahoma. And he was absolutely terrified to die. He had been introduced to death when he was still very small as his mother had lost a battle with cancer when he was six. He was also hit hard when his best friend's parents had both been killed so suddenly just a few years before. Then there had been Johnny. And he had panicked when Dally had been shot right in front of him, even tried to run to help him after it was clear he was already gone. Soda had to hold him back that night.

Soda wouldn't be there to hold him back this time.

That was another thing that got him. Going alone. The gang had been close since they were all very young. They depended on each other. They were family. How could he do this without them there to help him? He had always depended on the support of his friends and the thought of going without it seemed like such an impossible task.

Steve rolled over so that he was facing the inside of the couch and curled in on himself and put his arm up over his head in an attempt to bury himself into the couch.

I can't do this…