Darry sat on the flimsy hospital bed, reading the newspaper and drinking the most disgusting coffee that he could remember having. Ponyboy had been waking up here and there and for the most part had been feeling better, but still wouldn't talk. Just nodding and groaning, and absolutely no eye contact. The doctor said that it could be traces of shock, but Darry knew that Ponyboy was tough. He thought that after all they had been through, Ponyboy would be tough.

Just as he was closing his newspaper, Ponyboy began to stir. He couldn't move too much because he was wrapped up so tightly. His bandages had to be changed every few hours, and Darry could see how much Pony tried to hide the tears and screams. He was bruised and bloodied all over.

Darry waited for Ponyboy to blink his eyes a few times before he tried to talk to him. It was only the third day of being in the hospital and he didn't want to overwhelm him.

Darry sat down next to the hospital bed.

"How are you Pony?" he asked. Ponyboy shrugged nonchalantly, which Darry had come to realize meant that he wasn't doing that good, but not that bad either.

"How's your head feeling? Better? The doctor said some of the swelling has gone down. You might be able to walk around today or tomorrow. Isn't that good news?" He received only a nod in response.

Darry rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You have to talk Ponyboy. I know that you might be upset, or scared, or confused, but it won't help if you don't talk. We can help. Soda, me, Steve, Two-Bit, the doctors, anyone. You just gotta talk to us. Will you say something?" Darry pleaded. He had been getting inside of his head day in and day out with guilt. Things were pretty rocky with Sodapop still, and he felt like he was letting both of his brothers down.

The room was silent for a while. Ponyboy opened and closed his mouth again and again, finding the words to say and immediately losing them. Darry tried not to get his hopes up too much. Finally, Ponyboy said something. At first it was a whisper, but then he repeat himself a little louder.

"I thought they were going to kill me."

Darry's heart sunk down to his feet. His blood instantly turned to ice. Shocked, he didn't say anything, but Pony took a deep breath and continued.

"I thought that when they stabbed me, I was going to die."

Darry closed his eyes, trying to find the right words.

"But you're safe, Ponyboy. You'll be okay. They can't hurt you anymore."

He hoped that there was some confidence behind his words. If he couldn't protect Ponyboy from this, what could he protect him from?

All of a sudden, Pony started to cry. Heavy, big tears and gasps that concerned Darry. He leaned over and picked up Ponyboy's head to hug him. It was the best he could do. He was afraid that anything else would've hurt him. Ponyboy continued to sob and Darry didn't stop him. He had learned in the past few months that sometimes crying was all you could do.

After Ponyboy calmed down, he didn't meet Darry's eyes. As Darry looked at Ponyboy's profile, he could see how gruesome his face actually was. His face was still a bit swollen, and the bruises weren't getting any better.

"When can I go home?" Pony finally asked. Darry could tell why. The comfort of his own bed, the comfort of not being poked and prodded by doctors, and the comfort of Sodapop being there all the time was making him stircrazy.

Darry made sure that Sodapop's time in the hospital was limited. Every time he saw him, the bags under his eyes seemed to be getting deeper and darker and he seemed more miserable. Despite him telling him to go home and get some sleep, he knew that he wouldn't. Darry hoped that Ponyboy coming home would get him back to his normal self.

"The doctor's coming in today to look and see, but he said it should be a few days. He'll try to get you to talk to him and explain what happened and all. You don't need to answer anything you don't want to though, Pone. You don't need to talk to anyone you don't want to."

Of course he wanted Ponyboy to tell him everything that happened and give him descriptions of the kids who did this to him so the gang could get revenge, but he had to take it one step at a time. He had to think of Ponyboy first and was sure that him going into depth about the cause of his injuries would do more harm than good.

"If it'll get me out of here, I'll talk. I'll tell them anything."

"You don't have to do that, Pone. You don't have to bend over backwards to get out of this place. Just tell them the truth about how you feel, and we'll hope for the best."

Ponyboy sighed, and Darry knew that the conversation was over. Ponyboy looked at Darry quickly, raising his split eyebrow and quickly wincing.

"How's Sodapop?" he asked, rubbing his eye.

"Haven't seen him too much. Everytime he's here with Steve and Two-Bit, I'm at work or home showering. But he's upset, trying to get you to talk to him and everything-"

"I miss him."

Darry touched Ponyboy's hair. "He misses you, too, kid. The whole gang does."

Just then, the door opened. The doctor walked through. He was an old man in his sixties, but he was pretty fair to Pony and Darry and helped them a lot. He was nicer than most, which Darry was grateful for.

"How are ya, Ponyboy? Feeling better?" he asked. He filled out the clipboard at the end of Ponyboy's bed, not expecting an answer. He had asked the same questions about four hundred times in the past few days with no answer.

"Good," Ponyboy said simply. The doctor looked at him, surprised.

"Talking now, are we?"

Pony forced a smile. "We sure are."

"Well, that speeds things along quite a bit. We took some blood work and ran same tests over the past few days. Your concussion seems to be getting a little better, and the bruising is starting to fade. The stitches in your neck and side are holding up well, also. No major organs were hit luckily. I'm sending you down to our rehabilitation unit now. We'll see how it goes and play it by ear after that," he rambled, sounded like he was reading a list. It was hard to soak all of the information in, but Darry breathed a sigh of relief.

"So, what should we do now?" Darry asked, eager to hear more good news.

The doctor looked from beyond his ginormous glasses at Darry, then Ponyboy.

"Get Ponyboy dressed and call a nurse in here when you're all set, and we'll get you down to the rehab unit."

Darry smiled wholeheartedly, wondering how he ever doubted Ponyboy being alright. Finally, some good news.

It was a little hard getting Ponyboy dressed. He hadn't been out of bed in more than 72 hours, and he was visibly uncomfortable no matter which way he was moved. He winced and gritted his teeth in pain, but was finally able to sit up. He still had his bloodied clothes on from when Darry found him in the lot. Darry got chills, and changed him into one of Sodapop's old t-shirts. When he had to pack clothes for Pony, Sodapop insisted that he give him something of his. Darry had no choice.

Getting Ponyboy out of bed and into a wheelchair was harder than Darry could have ever imagined. Ponyboy tried his hardest not to cry in front of Darry, he could tell, but once he swung his legs over and stood up, he started shaking in pain and got sick in the bin next to his bed. Darry's hopes started to waver, knowing that saying that Pony could walk and actually having him walk were two separate actions entirely. Darry was patient, and waited for Ponyboy to compose himself and sit in a wheelchair. He grabbed his side, and took a deep breath.

"Are you okay, buddy?" Darry asked.

Ponyboy swallowed hard and nodded. "Yup. Yes, I'm fine. Let's go."

The rehabilitation unit was terrifyingly plain, Darry decided. There were bars on the walls and a few chairs here and there, but not much else. There was a nurse that helped Ponyboy out of the chair and over to the wall. She instructed him of what he was supposed to do, then helped him walk back and forth as Darry sat outside of the room, looking in through a window on the wall. The doctor was a few feet away, looking in through the door and taking notes as Ponyboy winced and lost his breath and had to stop to hold his side. Darry didn't know what he expected, but he was proud of Ponyboy's will to walk despite the pain in his arms, legs, stomach, head, and neck. He was trying really hard, but he could tell that the doctor didn't care about those things.

After an hour or so, the nurse stepped out of the room as Ponyboy sat exasperated in the wheelchair inside of the room and announced that it would be better to bring him back to his room.

"How did he do?" Darry asked to the nurse, then the doctor. Both ignored him.

Darry wheeled Ponyboy back to his room. He wasn't talkative, and looked exhausted. Darry didn't strike up conversation. He had seen the disappointing looks on Ponyboy's face when his body wouldn't respond to what he wanted it to do. He was beat up mentally and physically and confused most of all. Darry wished that he could take him aside and tell him that he would heal sooner or later. It wouldn't happen right away, but he couldn't lose faith that it would.

Darry scooped Ponyboy out of the wheelchair and set him in his bed. He knew that Sodapop and Steve would be heading over soon, so he would be leaving to go home and take a nap. The doctor walked through the door, smiling at them. Darry sat on Ponyboy's bed, as Pony drifted in and out of consciousness.

"How did he do?" Darry asked, nervously. To him, Ponyboy seemed like he did well. Any type of physical activity was good, wasn't it? He was determined to get better. That had to count for something, right?

The doctor sucked his lips in, like a fish. He stared at the clipboard in his hands, then at Darry. "Well, I'd hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have made a striking revelation..."

As always, thanks for your reviews, favorites, & feedback :)