A huge thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing! This chapter is insanely long...sorry about that! There wasn't really a good way to split it up anymore than I already had. Also, trigger warning for attempted suicide.
And Nothing But the Truth
When Ponyboy opened his eyes, Soda was asleep in the bed beside him and it took him a minute to remember the rest of the previous day as he stared up at their bedroom ceiling. He'd finished that book. Johnny had fallen asleep not too much later. A nurse had stepped in to quietly ask them to let him rest, and they'd left without resisting, not wanting any kind of trouble. On the bus ride back to their side of town, he'd leaned against Soda's shoulder instead of the window, and he'd felt Two-Bit's concern the whole way back. He'd sat in front of them and had leaned around his seat, pressing the back of his hand to Pony's forehead. "You feeling alright, kiddo? You're awful hot."
Pony had smiled. Apparently there wasn't a timeline where Two-Bit didn't worry about him. "I think I'm getting sick," he'd told him. He'd known he was getting sick, of course, and Soda knew too…he'd told him how this day went already.
"You need to stay home tonight," Soda had told him, an arm around his shoulders.
He'd nodded, not about to argue. If he never had to fight in a rumble again, it would be too soon. Soda had taken him to lunch at the diner, Two-Bit tagging along, all of them uncharacteristically quiet and solemn as they'd eaten their food, and that evening, he'd stayed home on both Sodapop and Darry's orders. Soda had been glad to know that they'd at least win the rumble, and Pony had warned him to keep an eye out for Steve…that he might get his ribs broken.
That night, Soda had come into their bedroom right after the rumble, dropping onto the bed beside Pony in his jeans and dirty t-shirt, throwing an arm around him and squeezing him hard. "How you feeling?"
"Fine. Steve okay?"
"Yep. No broken ribs this time. Two-Bit got a pretty bad cut on his face though…might need stitches." He had been quiet for a second. "We won."
Pony had managed not to laugh. "I know."
"We always win, right?"
"Yeah." He'd hesitated for a minute. Then, "Do you think it'll work?" he'd asked, closing his eyes against the pain in his head and trying not to cry lest Darry come in and figure out something was wrong. Surely, Pony had thought, he'd think it was weird that Soda was going to bed so early. Then again, he'd hoped that their brother would be distracted with Two-Bit.
"Yeah. I think it will," Soda had whispered, rubbing his back and sounding so sure. "I think we're gonna wake up tomorrow and it'll be Sunday. Darry don't have to work, and if you're still feeling bad, he'll take you to the doctor." Pony had smiled a little, a tear running down his cheek as the hope had just about killed him. "I'll stay home with you. Darry too. We'll all be okay."
"But Johnny…him and Dal…they'll both be gone."
"I know," Soda had murmured, the sound more soothing than acknowledgement. "But we got to spend time with him. You got to read him that book and he was happy. He didn't have to see his parents or nothing. He was a hero, you know? And Dal…" Soda had trailed off and Pony had pressed his face into Soda's shirt, his tears soaking the fabric just as their phone had rang.
"Please don't forget," he'd begged, knowing that it wasn't fair…that Soda wouldn't be able to help it. But he'd begged anyway. "If I have to do it again…please remember, Soda. Don't make me do it alone anymore."
Soda had wrapped his arms tight around Pony as the gang had left the house at a run, their screen door slamming, all of them in too much of a hurry to come find Soda. "I won't. I won't forget, honey. I couldn't." His voice had been desperate like he was begging too. "I can't forget. I can't…"
Pony had prayed it was true…he'd prayed that, if he had to do it all again, at least he wouldn't be alone…at least Soda would be there with him, trying to figure it out.
And then, before he'd been able to say anything else, the sound of gunshots had echoed through their neighborhood and everything had gone black, his body going limp in Soda's arm.
"Soda!" he called, shaking his brother's shoulder. Usually he wouldn't wake Soda up so early but he had to know.
His brother grumbled under his breath, wiping a hand over his face and rolling over to blink up at him. As soon as he saw him, he smiled a little, relief passing over his face. But why? Because it was the next day? Because Pony had passed out the night before? "Hey, Pone. You okay?"
"What day is it?" Pony demanded, hands shaking with how scared he was to hear the answer.
Soda's brow furrowed and he wiped a hand over his face. "What's wrong?"
"What day is it?" he asked again, and Soda sat up a little on his elbows.
"It's Saturday. Don't you remember?"
His heart felt like it was breaking…like he was sitting there while the police told them their parents were dead again and it hurt like nothing else and he didn't know how he would ever go on…like the ground had dropped out from under him and he was falling.
"Pony?" A hand landed on his shoulder and he knew the devastation was showing plain on his face but he couldn't do anything about it. Soda didn't remember. And some irrational part of him wanted to grab his brother and demand he remember…he wanted to yell and scream! You promised! You promised to remember! But of course Soda couldn't do anything in the face of something this impossible. It hadn't been real…it hadn't even happened. Promises didn't mean nothing when they weren't real. "Hey…what's wrong? Are you feeling okay?"
"What happened yesterday?" he asked, his voice a tear-choked whisper, his throat already aching as though he'd been crying for hours.
Soda moved closer, putting a hand on his back. "You were at the church with Johnny…you saved those kids. You and Johnny and Dally. You weren't hurt too bad…you fell asleep in the truck on the way home. You remember?"
Pony dropped his head onto Sodapop's shoulder, just like the day before on the bus. But Soda didn't remember that. Because there had been no day before…not really.
He couldn't do this anymore.
It was a thought he'd had before, but this time, he didn't even try to push it down. Instead, he pulled away, suddenly dry-eyed as an eerie calm fell over him. "Yeah…I remember. Sorry…" he blinked a few times. "I had a nightmare." His voice sounded weird…like he was hearing himself from far away, but he guessed that was fine.
"Oh…yeah? One of those you don't remember?"
"Yeah." It didn't matter if he was lying. Nothing mattered. It wasn't real.
He couldn't take it anymore.
He got up and went to the bathroom, ignoring Soda's concerned stare and shutting the door behind him. He didn't have much time…maybe half an hour before Darry woke up and the guys came over. He'd taken a shower the first day, but today he just opened the medicine cabinet and stared. He could pretend to be sick, he told himself. Just take every pill he could find, then lay down and drift off to sleep.
And no one would know. Not until it was too late.
If it worked, his brothers would be broken hearted, he knew. The guys too, probably. They would never understand what had driven him to it. But when he stared into the cabinet, the only options were Aspirin and a bottle of muscle relaxers that Darry had been prescribed back when he'd hurt his back the first time. There were only three left in the bottle…Darry used them as sparingly as he could, and Pony doubted three would do the trick. There was plenty of Aspirin in the bottle, but he didn't know if you could really OD on it, or how much it would take. What if he didn't take enough? What if Two-Bit stayed with him and caught on and saved him? Then he'd just have to do it again and he didn't think he could live with that.
Metaphorically speaking, of course. He would, in fact, have to live with it until he could try again.
So option B it was.
Pony had never been so grateful that Darry was a heavy sleeper. The moment Soda stepped into the bathroom to take a shower, nearly thirty minutes ahead of schedule, Pony slipped into Darry's room. His brother was dead to the world, buried under a pile of blankets, and thankfully, his closet door was already ajar. That door never did want to close right, and Pony was glad he wouldn't have to risk making too much noise and waking Darry. He had no idea how'd he'd explain any of this. Standing on his toes, he felt around the top shelf of the closet, practically holding his breath until his fingers brushed against the cold metal of a box that held their dad's old pistol, nestled between photo albums that none of them could bear to look at just yet.
Ponyboy never had liked guns much. When he'd gone hunting with their dad, him and Sodapop had goofed around most of the time, and Darry had always got the most ducks. But when they'd set up targets, Pony had always hit the most cans. He remembered his dad ruffling his hair, grinning down at him.
"Good shot, kiddo!"
He remembered Darry bragging on him when they'd all come back from a hunting trip. "Pony's a better shot than me and Soda put together!" Pony had heard him telling Two-Bit that day. "He hit the target every time." He didn't think anything in the world had ever felt better than his big brother bragging to someone about him.
Pony shoved a throw pillow out of the way and sat on the sofa, not caring when it hit the floor. The only sound in the house was the distant running water of the shower, and he could hear a car pass by out on the street. Outside, the sun was rising lazily over the horizon, and Pony glanced back at it, then stared down at the gun he was holding in his lap. It was cold. Lifting it slowly, he pressed it to the side of his head, the barrel digging gently into his temple, the box it had been sitting in resting in the middle of the coffee table in front of him on top of a car magazine that he thought belonged to Steve.
He'd held guns plenty of times. He'd aimed at ducks he didn't want to shoot and at deer he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger for. He'd held pellet guns that he'd pointed at tin cans lined up in a row on a makeshift platform made of scrap wood that he'd shot one right after the other, hitting more than his brothers almost every time. He'd even pointed one of those pellet guns at Curly once, but only after Curly had just about shot him with his own. Tim had rolled his eyes at the two of them but he hadn't said anything…hadn't knocked their heads together like he had when he'd caught them holding lit cigarettes to their fingers in a game of chicken neither of them had won.
But he'd never held a pistol like this. His dad had drilled it into him…Darry and Soda too. Never point a loaded gun at anything you didn't intend to shoot. Never aim it at yourself or your brothers, not even as a joke.
Pony knew he shouldn't be doing this in the living room. It was early and even though he'd managed not to wake Darry, he knew that his brother would be getting up soon. Soda would be out of the shower soon. Two-Bit and Steve would be showing up soon. So either he needed to get out of the house or he needed to hurry up.
He couldn't save Johnny and Dally…not through changing anything or trying to get Dally to listen or reading a book. He couldn't change anything enough to make a difference. And even dying on accident didn't work. But maybe if he did it on purpose…maybe if he begged…
"Please…just let it be me," he whispered into their empty living room, a photo of their mom and dad, the only one they'd kept up, hanging on the wall and staring down at him with soft smiles. It was all his fault anyway, no matter what anyone said. He'd been the one to run off. He'd been the one to get Johnny mixed up in all this. He'd lost track of how many times he'd gone through this day…of how many times he'd tried to save his friends. Johnny, who's only crime had been saving Pony's life, and Dally, who had done plenty of other bad stuff, but who'd gotten them out of town and who'd taken them to Dairy Queen and who'd run into a burning church to save his best friend.
Dally cared about Johnny more than anyone or anything else. Him and Johnny would have each other, dead or alive. Soda and Darry had each other and the guys. And sure, they'd be real sad to lose him…before, he hadn't known that, but now he knew that Darry loved him a lot, and so did Soda. But he couldn't keep doing this…he couldn't keep living this same shitty day over and over…he'd lose his mind. He'd go insane!
He already felt insane.
"I'll die. Okay?" he asked softly. "I'll die. Just take me. Let them live. Please."
A cold, scared part of him wanted to just ask for the first part. Let him die. Let it be over. Let this awful day finally end! And whatever happened to Johnny and Dal…well…he'd done his best. He'd tried everything he could. He couldn't save Johnny…not unless whoever was doing this let him go back further. Even just one day! Why couldn't he go back one more day! But whoever he'd been pleading with didn't seem to be in the mood to bargain.
The floorboards in the other room creaked and he felt his heart clench. He was scared. It was so stupid to be scared…he knew, most likely, what was going to happen. He'd just wake up next to Sodapop again, the same as he had less than an hour ago.
"Let it be me," he whispered, back to begging, lips trembling. "Let Dally live, at least. Please. He don't deserve to die because of me."
He didn't want to die but he didn't know what else to do, so he let his finger rest on the trigger, taking a deep, shaking breath.
"Ponyboy?"
He closed his eyes, not wanting to see Darry's face. He'd never heard his brother sound scared like that…not ever. Not even when the cops had told them that their parents were gone.
Why was Darry awake? He was too early…he wasn't supposed to wake up for another half hour at least. Had Soda taking a shower woken him up? Had he heard Pony in his room earlier? Or had some part of him, the part of him that always seemed to know when Ponyboy was doing something he shouldn't, gotten him out of bed?
"Pone…hey…what are you doing?" His voice shook and broke on the last word, but he kept going, speaking real soft and slow like he was talking to a wild animal…like he was pleading with a wild animal. Pony's finger still rested on the trigger, his whole hand shaking. It didn't matter though…he couldn't miss. "Pony…put…put it down, okay? Please? It's okay, you ain't in trouble. Just…please, little buddy…"
Darry had held him when he'd died. He remembered…and he wondered if Darry remembered too. Did his brother remember holding him in the street that night that had never actually happened? Did he remember sobbing and rocking him back and forth and begging him not to fall asleep. Was he having that nightmare too?
He wanted to explain. He wanted to tell his brother that this…all of it, was his fault. That he'd caused this whole mess and now he just wanted to clean it up. But there wasn't any way to do that and besides, none of it mattered. So he opened his eyes, wincing when he met Darry's. He'd never seen his brother look like that…like the whole world was ending. "I'm sorry, Darry," he murmured, feeling a tear run down his face. He was. He was so sorry about all of it. "I'm so sorry. You don't deserve this…none of it." It was true. He didn't. He deserved to be away at college, not worrying about raising his little brothers. He deserved to be living his own life…he deserved to be a soc, with nice clothes and enough money to buy himself a tuff car and enough free time to have a girl.
Darry shook his head, taking a hesitant step into their living room, moving slow and careful as he stretched an arm out, his hands both palm up like he was surrendering.
"No, Pony, it's okay. Whatever it is, just tell me, please? We…I…we'll figure it out! I'll help you, okay? Please…please put it down. Please, baby…"
Pony's smile felt brittle. "It's okay, Dar. This isn't real."
He hadn't expected to hear his brother scream along with the deafening gunshot…hadn't expected to live long enough to feel his arms go around him, or hear his anguished sobs.
He hadn't expected to wake up to Darry screaming.
Hell…he hadn't expected to wake up at all.
Ponyboy sat upright with a gasp when the scream split the air, Soda jerking awake right along with him as the sound of his own name seemed to echo through the house. Soda turned to him like he might have been the one yelling, which made sense because he usually was, but just this once it wasn't him…it was their brother. Sodapop climbed out of bed after a second, hurrying toward Darry's room as Pony dropped back onto his pillow, eyes closed, defeat falling over him like a blanket, smothering him.
Even death didn't get him out of this, apparently.
What options were left? Try again? Alone this time? Wait until they were all at the rumble and do it alone in the house? Maybe in the bathtub so they could clean it up easier without having to replace the sofa? A bubble of hysterical laughter rose in him, but he knew that if he let it out, it would turn into a sob to go along with the tears dripping down the sides of his face and over his ears, soaking the pillow beneath him.
The worst part was, he didn't want to die. Not really. He wanted to live! But not like this!
Wiping impatiently at his face, he tried to think…tried to puzzle it out. Laying in bed crying wasn't going to fix it, and he knew that for certain because he'd already tried it. There had to be some kind of logic to this! The days he was living were making their way into his brothers' dreams…but only sometimes. Only when something really, really bad happened. Right? Like when he'd died in front of them. For some reason, Two-Bit and Steve hadn't been affected, but Dally had. Then again…Dally had been the one holding him when he'd died that night. So had Soda and Darry. They'd all touched him that night.
And the day before…the one Pony had cut short…the last thing he'd known was Darry wrapping his arms around him and screaming. How long did it take to die from a gunshot wound to the head? That had to have been Darry's dream…he hadn't had a nightmare like this before. Hell, he didn't think Darry had ever had a nightmare that made him scream like that. Soda hadn't had a nightmare though…because he hadn't been in the room?
And, an even worse question, were these days real somewhere else? Like…was there a day in another universe or something where Darry really had watched him shoot himself in the head? He flinched at the thought, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and forced himself to his feet. He had to believe that wasn't true…he didn't think he could live with himself if he'd really done that to Darry somehow…and all for nothing.
He didn't go check on Darry…his brother was fine. Hell, he wouldn't even remember it once this day was over. Instead, he dragged himself into the kitchen. After making his brother live through something like that, the least he could do was make him breakfast. It wasn't like he had anything else to do that morning. So, just like before, he started on Darry's breakfast first, frying up two eggs and some bacon to make him a sandwich. They were running about half an hour or more early, so Two-Bit and Steve probably wouldn't mess up his eggs at least. Darry and Soda came out of the bedroom that used to belong to their parents and now belonged to Darry just as he was putting the sandwich together, and he held the plate out to Darry who watched him with a haunted look in his eyes.
"You okay?" he asked, not able to muster up much of a smile, and Darry nodded, dropping a hand on his shoulder as Soda headed to the bathroom.
"Yeah…I'm fine. Thanks, kiddo." He stood there for a minute, gripping Pony's shoulder like he might just disappear…or shoot himself in the head.
"Think Soda wants eggs?" he wondered, trying not to think past breakfast. If he thought too much, he had a feeling he'd start screaming and never stop. Breakfast, he told himself. He could lose it later. Or maybe he'd lay down in bed and stay there all day. Or maybe he'd try taking all the Aspirin and Darry's three remaining muscle relaxers and see if that did the trick.
What did he have to lose?
"Sure…you want some help?"
"I've got it."
So he scrambled eggs for Soda, putting them on a plate and leaving them on the table beside the jar of grape jelly. Then he fried some for himself. By the time he sat down, Soda had gotten out of the shower and they all sat down to eat together in a strange silence. Sodapop kept glancing over at Darry, and Pony could feel Darry's eyes on him. He knew that the nightmare had been rough…hell, he'd lived it, but there wasn't anything he could say to comfort him. Darry wasn't like Soda. He was all hard facts and serious and Pony telling him that he was reliving the same day over and over would be a pretty good way to get his brother to have him committed…not that it would matter.
Two-Bit and Steve showed up right as they were finishing up and some sixth sense must have stopped them from making any kind of joke about Pony's hair, which he'd basically forgotten about at this point. Instead, Two looked between the three of them and patted Pony on the shoulder. "Hey, Ponyboy. It's good to see you, kid."
Pony forced himself to smile a little. "Hey, Two."
"How's it feel to be a hero, kid?" Steve asked, tossing the morning paper onto the table, and Pony wanted to laugh out loud. Or scream. But if he started, he knew he'd never stop.
Shitty, he thought. It felt shitty. Like the worst fucking thing that had ever happened to him. Instead of saying any of that, mostly because he'd have to explain it and that sounded exhausting, he shrugged.
"I ain't a hero," he told him simply, standing up and taking his plate to the sink.
"Sure you are. You saved all those little kids," Two-Bit told him, as earnest as Ponyboy had ever heard him, but Pony just walked past him to the bathroom, shutting the door and turning the shower on.
He wasn't a hero. The fire had been their fault in the first place. Johnny was the hero…he was the one who'd gotten hurt.
Pony figured that by the time he took a shower and got dressed, it would just be him and maybe Two-Bit, so he sat on the floor of their bathtub and closed his eyes as the rapidly cooling water poured over him. "I don't know what to do," he whispered, surprised when he realized his own tears were mixing with the water running down his face. He hadn't thought he'd had any more tears left after all the crying he'd been doing every day…he'd felt more numb than anything that morning, but the tears fell anyway. "I don't know what you want. I just wanted to fix this…I wanted to fix what I'd done but I can't. I don't know how!" Dropping his face onto his knees, he waited, as though whoever was doing this to him might deign to actually communicate with him.
But the only thing he heard was the running water.
Giving up, Pony got out of the shower before the water ran too cold, wrapping himself in a towel and leaning against the door, too tired and run down to do anything else for a long time. It wasn't until he was nearly dry that he went to his room and got dressed. Two-Bit was probably bored, but he couldn't bring himself to care. But when he finally stepped out of his room, figuring he'd at least go see Johnny, he was surprised to find it wasn't Two-Bit sitting in the living room.
It was Darry.
"Ain't you got to leave for work?" Pony asked, confused as he glanced up at the clock that hung on the wall over by the TV and the picture of his parents that had watched him kill himself a few hours ago. Darry was sitting in his recliner, looking real serious…almost scared, but he didn't answer for a second. Instead, he jerked his head toward the couch.
"Sit down, Pony."
He shrugged, dropping onto the sofa. At least this was something new. "You alright?" Even if none of it mattered, he still hated that his brother had seen what he'd done.
"I'm fine. I took off today. Told my boss I needed to stay with you."
"Oh…you didn't have to do that." He shrugged, kind of surprised that he wasn't upset about Darry taking off to babysit him or nothing. "You can go sleep if you want. I'll be quiet."
"I need to talk to you." Darry leaned in, hands clasped as he met Pony's eyes.
"Okay…" It was kind of weird to sit down with his brother just to talk…he couldn't remember the last time he'd done that. Maybe before the first social worker had come? Still, he figured he'd give it a shot.
"How are you feeling?" Darry asked, like he was warming up for the real conversation.
Ponyboy shrugged. It didn't matter how he felt. But when he thought about the gun pressed to his temple and the way Darry had looked, he felt a pang of regret. He should have taken the gun somewhere else…somewhere his brothers wouldn't see him. Maybe he could try again. Go to the lot or something. He didn't think it had hurt. But he'd heard Darry screaming and just the thought made him shudder. He'd never wanted to hurt his brothers. Even if it wasn't real. "Tired," he told Darry, figuring it didn't matter if he was honest. "I think I've got a fever."
Darry looked even more concerned then, moving to sit on the couch beside him and pressing the back of his hand to Pony's forehead. Pony closed his eyes, leaning into him and wishing he could go back to sleep. He was so tired…so sick of this. "You feel pretty warm," Darry murmured, pushing his hair back out of his face and resting his hand on the back of his neck. "Pony?"
He opened his eyes, blinking a few times and trying to focus. "Yeah?"
"I don't want you fighting tonight, okay?"
"Good," Pony told him with a huff of laughter. "I hate rumbles. I never got why y'all liked fighting so much." It was true, although he didn't know if he'd really known it until he'd said it. He did hate them…now, anyway. Before, he'd loved it. He'd loved being old enough to go out with his brothers and the gang and whipping some socs…the way the gang had told him he was a pretty good fighter for his size. For just a little while, they'd looked at him like he was tough like them. But now…now all he could think about what Johnny had said, how fighting was no good, and how Dally had cried in the car on their way to go see him in the hospital. He remembered the fights that hadn't changed anything and getting jumped on his way home from the movies when he hadn't been bothering anybody and Bob holding him under the water in the fountain at the park. And he knew he didn't want nothing to do with any of it…not anymore.
To his surprise, Darry's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Something to do, I guess."
"It don't even change anything. Even if we win…we're still poor. They're still rich. They'll still get away with just about anything and we still get locked up all the time."
"I know." Darry patted him on the shoulder, nodding a little. "You're a smart kid, Ponyboy. Too smart for this place."
"So are you. You would have gotten out if it weren't for me…gone to college like you were supposed to. I'm sorry you're stuck with me." The apology didn't mean anything. It wasn't real…none of it. But it felt good to say it anyway. So he ignored how Darry had gone still beside him and went on, staring at the recliner where their dad used to sit. For some reason, he wanted to say it out loud. Hell, maybe the fact that Darry wouldn't remember made it easier. "I'm sorry I fought with you all the time. I was scared…figured you were looking for a reason to get rid of me. Figured you must hate me."
Darry's hand clutched his shoulder, and he shook his head as he turned Pony to look at him. "Hey…don't…don't say that," he ordered, voice weak. "Why…"
When Pony met his eyes, they were wide and scared and bewildered, and Pony had to wonder, had a nightmare really been enough to keep him home from work when they couldn't afford it? Even a nightmare like that? Or…did he suspect something was going on?
"You didn't keep me from going to college, Ponyboy. That…that's not on you. I wouldn't have left you and Soda, not for nothing, you hear me? And I sure as hell don't regret it." He leaned in, making sure Ponyboy was looking at him. Before, he would have felt embarrassed to talk like this with Darry, but it wasn't real, so he just went with it. "You and Soda mean more to me than anything in the world. I'd do anything for the two of you. I never regretted getting custody of you…I never wanted to get rid of you, no matter how much we fought. Never. You've gotta know that," he murmured, looking desperate.
It hurt, Pony realized all of a sudden. Even if it wasn't real, and even if he'd have to do all this again, and even if Darry wouldn't remember saying any of this, his chest still got tight and his eyes got hot, and he leaned against Darry's shoulder, tears he couldn't stop filling his eyes once more. He didn't even try to stop them…didn't fight the way his breath hitched…didn't pull away when Darry wrapped his arms around him, holding him close and rocking him a little like their mom would have. He didn't know why he was crying…didn't know why this was hitting him so hard. He already knew that his brother cared about him.
Hadn't he?
"I'm so sorry, kiddo," Darry murmured, a hand on the back of his head. "I never wanted you to think that…glory, Pone…I can't believe you thought that."
He sounded stricken and Pony wanted to comfort him…even if it wasn't real. But for a long minute, he couldn't stop crying long enough to do it, so he just clung to Darry, taking any scrap of comfort he could get these days.
"I dreamed you died," his brother told him all of a sudden, not pulling away at all. In fact, Pony thought he might have held him tighter. It wasn't like Darry to talk about this stuff, but he kept going. "I…I dreamed I found you in the living room. You had a gun and…and I walked in and saw you sitting there with it. And…I was so scared, Pony. I was so damn scared. I didn't know what to say."
There was nothing he could have said. Nothing he could have done.
"Then…you…you pulled the trigger before I could get to you," he whispered, real anguish in his voice. "I was holding you but…you were gone."
Pony hated that this happened…that these days bled into his brothers' dreams. It wasn't supposed to affect them! That wasn't fair! "I'm sorry," he whispered. "It wasn't real, Dar."
Darry went stiff at that, finally pulling away, and Pony remembered too late why that was a bad thing to say. His brother searched his face, shaking his head a little, but he couldn't take the words back, so he didn't try to explain them. He remembered telling Sodapop everything…remembered how relieved he had felt to have someone with him in all this. But Darry wasn't like Sodapop. He had to have facts and proof for things. He'd think Pony was losing his mind if he told him what all was going on.
"Pony…if something's wrong, you know you can talk to me, right?" he asked, voice real soft and gentle like it had been when he'd seen Pony with that gun.
"Sure," he told him, trying to keep his voice light, but Darry shook his head again, not wanting to let it go.
"I mean it, little buddy. If something's going on…if you're sick or…or feeling bad, I always want you to come to me. I know I'm gone a lot and I know…I know we fight sometimes, but I'm never too busy for you if you need me."
Then again, who cared if he thought Pony was losing it? It wasn't like any of this mattered. Besides…hadn't Darry stayed home from work just to talk to him? Hadn't he been worried about him every single day, without fail, no matter how busy he was? How many times had he pressed the back of his hand to Ponyboy's forehead to check for a fever? How many times had he tried to get him to eat?
Hadn't he begged Ponyboy to put the gun down? Hadn't he looked like his whole world was ending?
Then he hesitated, because…why had Soda believed him? He knew that Sodapop would always listen…he'd always been like that. But why had he believed something that sounded so crazy? Because Pony had known about his dream. And now he knew about Darry's.
Maybe it was worth a shot. It wasn't like things could get any worse, after all. Not for long, anyway.
Darry must have seen the change in his face because he leaned in. "Talk to me, Pone. Please. Tell me what's wrong and I'll do my best to help."
The smile on Pony's tearstained face felt so sad it hurt. "You aren't gonna believe me," he warned, tired and resigned, too afraid to actually hope that he could be wrong. "It's crazy. Hell, maybe I'm crazy, Dar." He'd thought about that before. Maybe he'd snapped or something…maybe he was in some hospital for crazy people, dreaming all this. If that was true, he'd sure like to wake up. Or at least switch to a different dream.
"Don't say that. You aren't crazy," Darry scolded, and Pony huffed out a laugh. If he wasn't crazy yet, he sure would be soon enough. "What's going on?"
Ponyboy hesitated, then decided he might as well begin at the beginning. "The first time, I woke up and made breakfast, just like today," he started. "And you didn't want to go to work at first, but you did. Soda too…Two-Bit stayed with me, though. Then me and Two went to see Johnny at the hospital."
Darry was staring at him, eyes narrowed in confusion, but Pony went on.
"I was already feeling bad, but I wanted to see Johnny. On our way we ran into Randy Adderson, one of the guys that attacked me and Johnny at the park. He wanted to talk to me before the rumble. So I got in his car and we talked and he said he wasn't going to fight in the rumble, even if his friends thought he was a coward for it. He was saying it didn't matter…that a rumble didn't make any difference."
"What?"
Pony ignored him. "Then when we got to the hospital we got the nurse to let us see Johnny…I didn't know how bad off he was," Pony admitted. "Not until I saw him. He was scared…said he didn't want to die. And I didn't know what to say to him. Then his mom showed up…he got real upset and we had to leave. She was yelling at us, saying it was our fault he was hurt." Pony shrugged. "I guess she was right." Before Darry could interrupt again, he went on. "Then we went and saw Dally. He said we'd win the rumble…for Johnny. Got Two-Bit to give him his switch. We took the bus home and Two-Bit was worried because I had a fever."
"Kiddo…what are you talking about?" Darry asked, hesitant. Pony could tell he wanted to say more…wanted to demand answers. He didn't believe in stuff like this. Hell, neither had Ponyboy before all this, but Darry really didn't believe in this. But Pony had something he hadn't really had before: some kind of proof.
"That night, you weren't sure about me fighting, but I told you I was fine. I'd taken five or six Aspirin, but I think I still had a fever. We all went to the rumble and Dally showed up too. I felt awful, and some soc had me down on the ground and was kicking me in the head. Then…" This part was fuzzy, and Pony had to work harder to remember. "We won, and Dally took me to see Johnny at the hospital. He…" Pony stared hard at the recliner, wondering why this part hadn't gotten any easier. "He died. Stopped breathing. Dal lost it. Was screaming and then he left me there, so I had to walk home. Some guy picked me up and drove me to the house."
He glanced at Darry, not surprised to find him completely lost. But at least he was listening. That was kind of more than Pony had expected. His brother wasn't really known for listening…at least, not these days.
"Dally called after I got home. He'd robbed a corner store and needed a place to hide. We all met him at the lot and…the cops…they shot him. Before we could get to him." Pony remembered the night they'd shot him instead and flinched a little. "I felt real bad and I must have fallen or something…maybe I passed out. Hell, maybe I'm dead." He laughed a little, ignoring Darry's stricken look.
"Don't talk like that. You ain't dead!"
That sure would explain all this, he thought. Maybe this was Hell or Purgatory or whatever it was called.
"When I woke up, it was that same morning. And every morning since, it's been that same morning. I keep going through that same day. I've been trying to change things…first I wanted to save Johnny and Dally, but nothing I did ever worked. So yesterday, I figured I'd just ask whoever it was doing this if they'd take me instead. I thought that maybe if I could die instead of them, this could all be over, you know?"
Darry very obviously didn't know. Pony went on anyway.
"So while you were asleep, I got in your closet and got Dad's gun. I shouldn't have done it on the couch…I thought I could do it before you woke up or Soda got out of the shower, but I was scared. I put the box on the coffee table and I sat right here." He pointed to the spot he'd taken once more. "I put the gun to my head. Here." He tapped his temple. "I asked whoever it was doing this to take me instead…to let me die so Johnny and Dal didn't have to. Or…to just let me stop living this same day over and over. But then you came in. And I hated that you were so scared. You kept begging me to put the gun down and telling me I wasn't in trouble…that it was going to be okay." He looked right at him them, their eyes meeting as he silently pleaded with him to believe him…try at least try. He hoped he could see how serious he was…how scared. "I told you I was sorry. I told you that you didn't deserve this, because you don't. And I said, 'It's okay, Dar. This isn't real,' because I figured it wouldn't work anyway. Then I pulled the trigger. And I heard you screaming before I woke up again."
Darry had gone a shade paler as he stared at Ponyboy, and Pony felt his stomach drop. His brother probably thought he was crazy. Of course, he might be right. He hoped Darry didn't think he was messing around or something. Surely he had to know that Pony wouldn't do something like that. When he was quiet, Pony dropped his head against the back of the couch with a sigh, closing his eyes. He wanted to cry some more. He wanted to go back to sleep. He wanted to grab the gun and go out to the lot and try again. He didn't know what to do. Should he try to talk to Soda again…see if he had any other ideas? Would he even believe him?
"Pony…"
He opened his eyes, glancing over at his brother who just kept staring at him, wide-eyed.
"I don't understand," Darry whispered. "I…I don't understand."
"Yeah? Me either."
"What you're saying…doesn't make any sense."
"Tell me about it."
"How…you couldn't know about…I didn't even tell Soda about that dream!"
"It wasn't a dream. It happened to Soda…and you too. When I died another time. You both had a nightmare about it."
"This isn't possible. It…" he pulled away then, looking around the room like there might be an explanation somewhere. "It isn't possible!"
"I know," Ponyboy told him, sounding exhausted even to himself.
Darry looked at him for a long time, taking him in. He knew he looked bad. He was tired…so damn tired. It wasn't just because he was sick either, even though he was. He felt like it had been years since he'd woken up on that first morning instead of just two weeks. He kept waiting for his brother to ask him questions…to demand he explain himself or ask if he'd hit his head or if he was on drugs or something.
Instead, his brother stood, walking into his bedroom and shutting the door behind him.
Huffing out another sigh, Pony closed his eyes again, trying to decide what he wanted to do the rest of the day. Maybe go see Soda…even if he didn't remember, Pony still wanted to be with him. Or maybe he'd visit Johnny again…try telling him what was going on and see if that made any difference. But before he could, Darry came back out with the box from his closet…the one that held their dad's gun. Pony thought about making a joke…asking if he was going to try shooting him instead and seeing if that worked, but he figured his brother wouldn't appreciate that much. Instead, he watched as his brother pulled the gun out, removing the clip and putting the safety on. Then he put it back into the box.
"Show me," he ordered.
Pony just blinked at him.
"Show me exactly what happened."
Hesitantly, Ponyboy nodded, sitting up, hope rising again despite his best efforts to keep it down.
"And you leave that safety on, you hear me?"
He nodded again, taking the box and staring at the couch for a second. He didn't even have to think about it as he put the box in the exact same place, pulling out the gun and sitting down in the same spot on the sofa as the day before, shoving the pillow aside and watching it fall onto the floor. Lifting the gun with a hand that shook, now for a different reason, he pressed the barrel to his temple, meeting Darry's eyes and giving him that same sad, tired smile.
"I'm so sorry. You don't deserve this…none of it," he recited, hating the fear in Darry's eyes. His brother wasn't supposed to be afraid. He was the bravest person Pony knew. "It's okay, Dar. This isn't real."
"Jesus Christ," he cried, reaching out and grabbing the gun, yanking it out of Pony's hand and dropping it into the box. Pony let it go without a fight, fighting a wry smile and losing.
"It wouldn't matter, you know? You could have left it loaded. I'd just wake up tomorrow and we'd do it all again."
Darry just stared down at him.
"You think it costs money to have someone committed?" This wasn't funny. He knew that. But his lips wanted to twitch into a smile anyway. He was just so unbelievably tired.
His brother swore again.
"Don't worry, Dar. This really ain't real. We just have to make it through today and you won't remember any of this…long as I don't kill myself in front of you again. I think." He shrugged. "I don't really know the rules."
He sat down beside him on the couch again, clasping his hands together. "It wasn't a nightmare," he muttered after a minute, glancing over at Ponyboy. "You're…you're telling me that you've been living the same day over and over."
"Yeah."
"This day?"
Pony nodded.
"And…and every morning…you wake up and…and it's the same day."
He nodded again.
Darry turned to him, staring at him for a minute. "You aren't messing around?"
Pony managed a halfhearted glare. "I wouldn't do that."
He sighed. "Yeah. I know." Darry dropped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "And you're not…you didn't…take anything?"
"I don't know what kind of drugs cause something like this but whatever they are, I've got no idea how to get them."
Darry knew that. He could see it in his brother's face. Pony had never touched drugs of any kind and never wanted to. Besides, when would he have had time to find any?
"Okay."
"Okay?" he repeated, confused. Okay as in Darry was going to start calling around to hospitals to see if they'd lock him up? Or okay as in he was done with all this and he was going back to work?
"Okay." Darry nodded once, decisive as he turned to face Ponyboy head on. "There's no way you could have known about that nightmare. It was…it was the same. All of it…even the box. So…it wasn't a nightmare. You're reliving the same day somehow."
Ponyboy narrowed his eyes. "You…are you saying that you believe me?"
Darry nodded, face softening as he clasped Pony on the shoulder. "Yeah. You wouldn't lie about this."
"You aren't supposed to believe me."
He frowned. "What do you mean? Have you told me before?"
Pony shook his head.
"Then how would you know?"
"Because you…" he trailed off. It seemed kind of ungrateful to tell his brother that he never listened, so he just let that sentence hang here. Darry seemed to know what he was thinking anyway, and his face dropped for a second. But then he went on, firm and decisive, like he'd made up his mind…it was the best thing Pony thought he'd ever heard. One Darry made up his mind to do something, he did it. And there it was again…treacherous hope.
"How many times have you done it? This same day?"
"Uh…" Pony shook his head, trying to focus…to get over the fact that somehow, Darry believed him. It was just too good to be true, but Darry wasn't looking at him like he was insane…he was looking at him like they had a problem to solve. "This is fifteen I think. There's the first day, and then I've done it over fourteen times." He shrugged. "No matter what I do, I can't save Johnny. It's not far back enough. If we were at that church…I could save him then. But it's always today. And I can't save Dally either. I keep trying to talk to him, but he don't ever listen. I even tried to stop the cops from killing him but that don't work either. The first time they just shot me instead."
"Glory, Pony," he muttered, running his hand through his hair and looking sick.
"It didn't hurt much," Pony tried to comfort him. "And you and Soda were with me." Did he remember? Did he have those dreams too? For whatever reason, his brother believed him, and he couldn't help the rush of relief. Despite Darry's stricken look, the words kept pouring out of him like they'd been trapped but now a gate had opened. "I don't know what to do, Darry. I…I've tried everything. I figured if I killed myself, that might be good enough, but I just keep waking up this morning. I've told Soda the truth too. And he believed me, but that don't matter because the next day he didn't remember. And you won't either. And it's all my fault."
"What's your fault?"
"Johnny…him dying. And Dally. It's my fault." Eyes hot, he leaned back against the sofa. "It's my fault, Darry, and I don't know how to fix it."
Darry's hand rested on the back of his head, his voice gentle and sad. "Honey, Johnny getting hurt wasn't your fault."
"Yeah it was! We were the ones that started that fire…we had to have been! We must have dropped a cigarette or something! And then…I was the one that ran in to save those kids. He ran in after me!" Darry had to see it. Out of everyone, his oldest brother had to get it!
"You saved their lives. They would have died if you two hadn't gone in there."
Pony shook his head, desperation leaking into his voice. "I should have been the one that got hurt. Johnny should have gotten out! I should be the one in the hospital! I should be the one that dies tonight! We…we can't be the gang without Johnny!"
"Don't even say that!" Darry scolded, scared like just by saying it, Pony might make it come true. Hell, if that worked, all of this would have been over a long time ago. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you, Pony!"
He barked out an incredulous laugh "You'd go to college! You'd get out of here and…and you'd be free! You'd only have to worry about Soda and he's going to be eighteen next year, and he works full time! You'd be better off without me!"
"No…God, Ponyboy…" Darry shook his head, frantic. "I don't want that. I'd never want that."
"Darry, you could go back to your life! Take college classes and get a job you don't hate! You wouldn't have to be stuck with me anymore!"
"Stop!" he ordered, raising his voice for the first time, and Pony did, taken aback. Darry wasn't mad though…he looked scared again, his eyes wide. "Don't talk like that. I couldn't stand it if something happened to you! I…I couldn't live with it, Pony!"
"Of course you could," he whispered, trying to make him see sense. "You'd be free!"
"No…that's…Pony, I love you. Don't you get that? I got custody of you and Soda because I love you two more than anything and I wanted to make sure we could stay together! I couldn't stand the thought of somebody taking you two away from me. You are the most important people in the world to me! You aren't keeping me from college or anything else. I made that choice. I knew what I was doing when I signed those papers and talked to the cops and the social workers and the judge…I can go to college in a couple of years, kiddo. That ain't more important than you and Soda. I don't want to be free of you. I would never want that. Never. You hear me? Don't ever think that I want to get rid of you. I mean…glory, Pone, I know we fought sometimes and I know I yelled too much…that's all I could think about while you were gone. I yelled too much and I feel like I'll never get the hang of this…like I don't even know how to talk to you sometimes. But that don't mean I love you any less. You know that, right?"
Pony dropped his head against his shoulder again, feeling his heart clench painfully in his chest. He hadn't known that. He really hadn't. Somehow…despite all he'd gone through…somehow he'd thought that Darry really would be happier without him.
His brother wrapped his arms around him, voice shaking. "Losing you…honey, that would be even worse than losing Mom and Dad."
All of a sudden, Pony realized he couldn't do it. He couldn't get the gun or the pills or lay out on the railroad tracks…he couldn't hurt Darry and Soda like that. Crying for the second or third or thousandth time that day, he gripped Darry's shirt hard. "I don't know what to do…Darry…what do I do? How can I make it stop?"
Darry squeezed him hard, leaning against the back of the sofa and making him feel safe for the first time in so long. He could practically hear his brother trying to think of a solution…trying to fix this. But he didn't know if this was something Darry could fix, no matter how much he wanted to.
Then again, he didn't think anyone in the world was more stubborn than Darry.
"Alright," he said, pulling away and resting a hand on the back of Pony's neck. "We're going to figure this out, okay? Tell me what you've tried so far. Everything."
So Pony did.
