A/N: S. E. Hinton owns all rights to the characters in The Outsiders and her other stories, I only own my imagination. This Johnny (Johnny 2.0) is my own creation (along with Mikey, Dave, Shane, Pat, & Neil), though he was unashamedly inspired by Ms. Hinton's Johnny.

"Shh, shh, shh, everything's okay now, Johnnycake. Everything's just fine, you're safe." A cool hand pushed my sweaty hair away from my face as I uttered a discomforted groan. The blankets were painfully hot.

"Stop, please?" I rasped, my throat burning from whatever I'd been coughing up between sleeping episodes.

"You want more water?" It was my dad, who looked pretty tired himself.

"No, jus' want sleep. Everything hurts."

"Give him more water anyway, he's dehydrated." Uncle Soda's voice drifted in from the hallway. I didn't remember him coming to see me.

"Drink this, honey." Dad put a plastic cup to my lips, and I swallowed a little water before falling back on the pillow. "If he keeps this up, we're gonna have to take him to the hospital, Soda."

"Once Steve gets here, he'll be in good hands. He was in a MASH unit in Cambodia."

I fell back to a sleep filled with restless dreams. I kept getting trapped someplace dark with no way out, and for as long as I banged on the door, a banshee screeched at me. It was out there threatening a greater monster if I wouldn't shut up. The intermingled stenches of patchouli, a sickly sort of vinegar, marijuana, and neglect filled my nostrils as shots rang through the air beyond the door. There was nothing I could do but stay trapped here forever, and no one would find me. I was running out of air, and I started to cry before I felt rough hands shaking me awake.

"He's having nightmares again." Steve informed my dad gruffly.

"Okay, I'll take care of him. Were you able to tube him?"

"Yeah. His veins are deep, but I found a good one. He's on fluids now. Maybe you should get him checked out by a shrink. Sixteen-year-olds shouldn't be having regular nightmares, Pony."

"I know, Steve; I'm worried about him. Thanks for all your help. Why don't you keep Soda company while I check on Johnny?" He shut the door behind him before climbing in bed next to me. "You doin' okay now?"

"I'm fine. They just won't go away."

"I know; you've had a rough life, kiddo, and it haunts you."

"I just wish it wouldn't." Dad squeezed me hard against his chest because I just couldn't quit shaking, and I let him hold me there till it calmed down. This ritual had started back when he and Mom first adopted me, but I was old enough to do my own laundry now. "Thanks, Dad."

"You're welcome. I wish you'd have told me that you felt sick, hon. I would've stayed home with you."

"I didn't want you to worry about me."

"It's a little late for that, I'm afraid." Dad chuckled ruefully, kissing my forehead. "I think your fever's going down."

"I can't tell." I complained, laying my head on his shoulder.

"Just get some sleep, Johnnycake. I'll be right here when you wake up."

This room wasn't mine, I knew that for a fact. There were quite a few times during the day that I'd mistake it for my own and be rewarded with a bump on my elbow or a tissue box knocked on the floor. Dad must've brought me to his old house. I thought, watching the light trace wavy lines through the blinds. I still felt dizzy and feverish, but I didn't feel half as sick anymore. Something Steve gave me had taken care of that. The sound of running feet and wild yelling roused me from Dad's shoulder. He stretched as I tried to sit up. "The hellions are home." He said, flexing his fingers.

"They'll probably come in here." I whispered, finding my multiple attempts to be useless.

"Not if Two-Bit or Soda has anything to say about it. You just need to focus on your sleep right now, Johnny; I know you haven't been getting enough lately. When you start to hold food down, we're gonna feed you too. You can't starve yourself anymore."

"How'd you know?"

"I know a Hell of a lot more than you give me credit for, young man. I just didn't know how bad it was until today. Steve said you've lost at least twenty pounds, and you were barely within your weight range to begin with. I know losing Mom has been really hard, but you need to take care of yourself, honey. I don't want you to die on me too." I felt his tears drip into my hair as he pulled me close. "Promise me you'll let me keep you safe." He whispered.

"I promise, Dad." I never broke a promise, if I could help it.