I'm sorry it took a while for this update to be published. It's taken me a while to figure out where this story is going and how I want to work things into it. Fingers crossed future updates will happen faster, but for now, I hope you enjoy!

(Ponyboy's POV)

Darry managed to sleep for ten minutes before Steve, Dallas, and Johnny appeared. They were all eager to see him awake, so when they rushed into the room and saw Darry's eyes closed, Dally was quick to see his irritation. "Did we really just speed across town to watch him sleep some more? Haven't we done that enough?"

"Lay off, he's tired," I said defensively, surprising myself for talking to Dally like that. My big brother saved my life and just woke up from a coma. I know we all want to see him awake, but glory, if he's tired, let him sleep as long as he wants.

It looked like Dally thought about either saying or doing something about my remark, but with the guys all there, he let it slide.

Johnny stood next to me, and he whispered, "Dal was excited the whole way here about Darry being awake. He was real worried about him."

Not being one to display his emotions in typical ways, Dally walked up to the foot of Darry's bed and gave the bottom of it a swift kick. It was just enough to send vibrations throughout the whole thing, and while Soda said something to scold him, Dally smirked when Darry's eyes shot open and the heart rate monitor spiked. "So you weren't lying. He really is alive."

Darry closed his eyes briefly, likely in attempt to focus on his breathing and getting his heart to slow down.

"Why do you have to be such an ass, Dally?" Steve questioned as he moved towards Two-Bit's side of the bed. He leaned against the wall and scowled at the hood. "The last thing the man needs is a heart attack."

Don't even put that out there.

"Hey guys," Darry finally choked out. Even though he was awake and looking around, I had a feeling he could fall asleep again any second.

"Quit talking," Soda said, pointing a finger at Darry.

"Christ, you ain't even lettin' him talk?" Dally said. "I thought Darrel ran a tight ship, but Sodapop here's even worse."

An angry look crossed Soda's face, but he stayed calm when he spoke again. "His throat is sore from the tube that was helping him breathe. Doc said he should take it easy on the talking for a little bit."

Apparently, Dally didn't have a comeback for that, so he just folded his arms in front of his chest and studied Darry. Finally, after a few seconds of awkward silence, Dally spoke again. "So how does it feel to have two bullet holes in ya?"

At Dally's words, my stomach flipped, and I must've made some type of noise because everyone was suddenly looking at me. Their faces quickly vanished and my imagination ran wild. I saw Darry bleeding out from two wounds in his body, and even though his eyes were dead and unmoving, I felt like I could still read them: This is all your fault.

"Pony?" Soda said softly from right next to me. He had his arm wrapped around me and he was rubbing the outside of my good arm. He was also using that voice he perfected to prevent spooking scared animals. It worked on me too.

I started feeling less nauseous, but the aching in my gut and heart was still there. It wasn't until Darry reached his hand out to grab mine that the discomfort started fading away. "It's okay, Pone," Darry said, his voice muffled behind the oxygen mask and the pounding in my ears.

It took a second, but I found my voice. "You ain't supposed to talk." I tried to give him a smirk to let him know I was joking, but I was pretty sure I didn't manage one.

"Jesus man, you can't just go around saying that," I heard Steve spit. It vaguely dawned on me that Steve was defending me from Dally's harshness, and if I hadn't been close to a panic attack, I would've been surprised and grateful for it.

After I blinked a few times to get rid of the tears and the memories, I noticed everyone was staring angrily at Dally, who to his credit, barely looked effected by it. Even so, he looked at me and gave me the closest thing to an apologetic look I'd ever seen from him. "My bad, kid. Probably a little too soon, eh?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice for several reasons. Not only were my emotions all over the place, but I was stunned that Dallas Winston apologized to me.

"Looks like the whole family is here," Dr. Jones said, making a sudden and timely appearance. With the amount of time all of us spent in the hospital, we were practically on a first-name basis with the hospital staff. "I see everyone's thrilled about Darrel here regaining consciousness. However, I'd like to remind everyone that his recovery will be a long process, and we don't want to push him too hard, too fast." His eyes seemed to linger on Dally, and interestingly Darry himself, the longest when he said that.

The look on Darry's face told me he had questions, but before he could try to speak again, I took my hand from his, grabbed the notepad and pen, and handed them to him, silently reminding him to keep his mouth shut.

Seeming to understand me, Darry started writing something down. As he did, Dr. Jones smiled at us. "That's a great way to communicate for the time being," the doctor said, reminding me of a teacher somehow.

When Darry was done, he showed the paper to the doctor.

What is the recovery process going to be like?

We had been so enthralled in Darry waking up, that I couldn't even remember what the doctor had mentioned about the recovery itself. I had hoped Soda and Two-Bit paid attention, but I figured it might even be better will all of us in the room to hear it from the doctor at once.

"Good question Mr. Curtis," Dr. Jones said, once again sounding like several teachers I had. "It'll take some time for your leg to heal and feel one-hundred percent after all of the soft tissue damage you sustained. Same goes for your lungs. Remember, we had to remove a portion of one of them, so your respiratory system will be impacted. Notably, you might notice your stamina will be affected."

"But he'll get back to normal, right?" I asked, noticing that my voice sounded young and weak. Darry needed to get back to normal. He was my tough big brother who worked multiple jobs just to take care of us.

The doctor took a breath and spoke cautiously, like he was choosing his words carefully. "If Darrel has proven anything during his stay here, it's that he's a fighter and he's probably going to defy all odds." Then he looked at my oldest brother again. "That being said, it'll take a lot of work and therapy for you to get back to your old self. It will have to be gradual, with lots of rest throughout the whole thing."

"Therapy? You mean he's gonna have to talk about his feelings?" Two-Bit asked.

"If he wants to, sure, but that's not the kind of therapy I'm talking about," Dr. Jones said patiently. "We'll start respiratory therapy to improve Darrel's breathing, and both physical and occupational therapy to regain normal strength and function of his muscles."

Darry seemed to ponder the doctor's words, then he wrote another question.

How long will it take?

I knew Darry well enough to know that there were several reasons why he wanted to know. First, he's stubborn and impatient, so of course he wanted to be told his recovery would be fast. Secondly, I knew he would already be worried about finances. Not only would he need to figure out what to do about the hospital bills, but he was going to have to figure out something about work. His boss, Mr. Harrison, seemed like a good guy, but you can't pay workers for not working.

Dr. Jones almost seemed entertained by Darry's question. "Well that's all up to you. You get everything out of therapy that you put into it; if you want results, then you have to work for them, but if you don't put in the effort, you won't see results. However, you also have to allow your body time to rest so you don't overdo it. It's a difficult balancing act, but I'm sure the gentlemen here will help you."

There was a chorus of things like "hell yeah" and "of course we will" echoing in the room, and even if Darry would probably get annoyed by it, it was nice to hear the entire gang agreeing to make sure he took the recovery process seriously.

For the first two days that Darry was awake, the only therapy he received was to help his respiratory system. The lady that came in the room to help him, Martha, had him do certain breathing exercises and she did stuff with the oxygen equipment. I think the whole gang thought it was kind of dumb at first– because breathing isn't supposed to be difficult so why was Darry being forced to do this– but we quickly noticed that Darry definitely needed to work on it. By the end of those sessions, he looked tired and out of breath, which just showed how long his road to recovery was going to. Thankfully, the oxygen mask on his face was quickly exchanged for a cannula under his nose, which was at least a sign of improvement.

The physical and occupational therapy started on day three, and it looked really frustrating, but I could tell Darry was putting on a brave face in front of everyone. It started with him just doing small movements that would increase his breathing and heart rate, then he had to move his leg a couple inches at a time. By the end of that first session, Darry was obviously frustrated by what he would likely consider a lack of progress, but the fact he was alive and breathing on his own was enough progress for me to last a lifetime. Still, for someone who used to be a star football player, moving your leg while lying in bed probably wasn't the epitome of physical fitness.

Despite what everyone had told me, I still felt responsible for my brother going through hell, and those feelings were relentless. I couldn't help it; during the day, I'd watch my brother struggle to do things that none of us even had to think about just a couple weeks ago, and at night, the fears and horrors plagued my nightmares.

Despite Darry's suggestions, Soda and I slept in Darry's hospital room every night, but I wouldn't sleep for long because I'd always wake up from a nightmare. Every single one of them involved Darry dying, and every time it was my fault. During the first couple nights, I somehow managed to keep myself from screaming and waking everyone else up, but on day three – the day Darry's condition became most evident with his physical and occupational therapy starting– my mind was apparently unable to relax at all. It took forever for me to fall asleep, but it felt like it only lasted mere seconds before I shot upright and let out a loud gasp. I was glad I didn't scream, but my sudden outburst was loud enough to startle Darry and Soda both.

"Pone?" Darry's rough, tired voice asked.

"What's wrong honey?" Soda's soft voice said. I couldn't see him since I buried my face in my hands, but I could picture how he was looking at me; like he was approaching a scared and wild animal.

I shook my head and let my elbows rest on my legs, which was a lot easier than it used to be since I was allowed to discard my sling. I didn't want to cry in front of my brothers, but I was afraid it was already too late for that.

"Hey, it's alright," Soda soothed calmly, even though I never said what was wrong in the first place. I watched Darry die, and it's all my fault! I felt his hand give my shoulder a squeeze. "Pony, look at me."

I didn't want to, but something about Soda's voice prevented me from disobeying. I slowly pulled my face away from my hands, and the moment my eyes met Soda's, he wrapped me in a tight hug. "It's okay honey," he said as he gently rocked me. Out of everyone on the planet, Soda had witnessed the most of my nightmares, and he knew exactly what to do. We were silent for a minute before he gently prodded. "Wanna tell us what it was about?"

I didn't, not really, but the guilt in my chest forced the words out of my mouth. "I saw him die… I keep seeing it… it keeps happening, and it's all my fault."

As Soda attempted to soothe and reassure me, Darry's voice spoke above Soda's. "Who Pone?"

I felt Soda shift, like he had turned to look at Darry, but my words shot out before he had a chance to answer our brother. "You!"

I heard a sharp intake of air, and I knew I had surprised Darry, either from my answer or the sudden outburst of volume and emotion. "What?"

I managed the strength to pull away from Soda and look Darry in the eye. My vision was blurry from the tears, but I could still recognize his icy blue irises. "You keep dying, and it's all my fault! I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time, or I do something that puts you in harm's way… I can't stand it!"

Soda kept an arm wrapped around me and pulled me tight against his side. He was shushing me, but not in the way you tell someone to be quiet, but again in the way you calm a feral animal.

"This last one… I don't remember what happened, but I know you died, and your grave was right next to Mom and Dad's," I was choking on air as I sobbed, but I couldn't find it in me to care anymore. I probably look like a lunatic right now. "I'm so sorry Darry. I didn't want you to get hurt… to almost die because of me."

Darry looked like he was in pain, and I wondered if his pain meds wore off or something, but he swiftly reached towards me and gripped my hand. It took a second for me to wonder if he might've felt hurt just from seeing me in distress. "I'm here, Pone. I'm not going anywhere. And, listen to me when I say this, none of this is your fault."

With my free hand, I wiped my eyes. "But-"

"But nothing. I already told you it isn't your fault, and I don't want you blaming yourself. Nobody else does," Darry said, somehow sounding firm and gentle at the same time just like our mom used to manage. "I'd go after a hundred crazy Socs if I needed to. I'd do anything for you kiddo. You and Soda both."

I believed him, I really did, but that didn't make me feel any better. "But I don't want you to." Darry gave me a strange look, and I felt like I had to explain myself before he gave me a lecture on me not feeling like I was worth protecting. I knew it really bothered him when I said it should've been me that got shot before, and even though I still felt like that, I didn't want to start that argument. "I don't want you to need to protect me. I don't want you gettin' hurt because of me."

I could tell Darry was trying to figure out how to reply. After a moment of hesitation, he said sternly, "I'm sorry to tell you Ponyboy, but you don't get to make that choice. You and Soda are my kid brothers, and I'll do everything I can to protect you two."

My next words spilled out so fast, I wasn't sure if anyone else could understand them. "We can't lose you too!"

The room went silent as I started bawling again.

"Mom and Dad are already gone," I choked out. Soda rubbed the outside of my arm as I continued. "I can't lose you too, Darry. I couldn't stand it!"

Darry stared at me with wide eyes, and I wondered why he looked so surprised at my words. Does he think I don't love him? That if he was gone, I'd be able to live my life like nothing was wrong? I felt an awful pit in my stomach. I haven't told him I love him enough.

Before I opened my mouth to say the words, Darry caught me off-guard. "They're never really gone, Pony. They're still with us."

I felt my eyebrows furrow, and Soda seemed to be either stunned or perplexed into silence. Darry wasn't the type of person to get philosophical or talk about intangible things. He was someone who needed cold, hard facts. Everything else was lost on him. Or so I thought.

Darry continued speaking like the words he said were simple and truthful. "They keep an eye on us. They love us, they're proud of us, and they miss us too."

"How do you know?" Soda asked softly, like he was afraid of the answer.

Darry waited a moment, then after a beat, he answered. "They told me."

It felt like my eyes were about to pop out of my head. What does that mean? Was Darry hallucinating, or did he actually speak with them? If he talked to them, then…

"What?!" Soda exclaimed, the sudden change in volume making me jump.

"Calm down Soda-" Darry started, but our brother was anything but calm.

"No, I won't calm down Darrel!" Soda shouted as he jumped to his feet. "What do you mean they told you?"

"Soda, you've got to quiet down before you get kicked out," Darry said sternly. That didn't have an effect on Soda, so Darry tried something else. "I'll tell you everything, but you have to sit down, be quiet, and let me finish before you ask any questions, alright?"

Reluctantly, Soda agreed and sat down. We all adjusted into more comfortable positions, prepared to have a long, late-night conversation just like we used to have when we were kids.

"Alright," Darry started. "So it happened twice-"

"Twice?" Soda couldn't keep himself from asking.

Darry shot him a look, but it softened quickly. "Pepsi, you've got to keep your mouth shut if I'm going to get through all of it by morning."

Soda nodded, then Darry told us everything.

It was wild to hear how Darry "met" our parents in some comatose dreamworld, but it was even crazier to hear that they've somehow been keeping track of us in the real world. They knew about Darry taking care of us and how he got hurt in the rumble from protecting me. They also knew about Soda dropping out of school and that Two-Bit was our temporary guardian while Darry was laid up. How could they know all of that?

I was glad to hear that Mom and Dad told Darry he was doing a good job taking care of Soda and me because he honestly didn't hear it enough. Sure, we argued frequently, but I still loved my big brother, and I wished it didn't take him getting shot for me to realize everything he's done for us and how awful life would be without him.

I was starting to think that it was Darry's mind playing tricks on him rather than him really talking to our parents, but when he told us certain things that Mom and Dad said about Soda and me, I couldn't deny that he must've really talked to them since I didn't think Darry's mind would think of those specific things on his own. Mom had told Darry that I love simple, beautiful things, I crave Darry's support even if I don't say it, and that even though I hate it, I'm emotional and sensitive. Meanwhile, Dad told him that Soda's going through difficult stuff just like the rest of us are, but he just wants to help the people around him so he puts on a brave face, even on days that are really rough for him.

I can't claim that anything they said was wrong, but that just made things seem even weirder. They really must've been watching us and giving Darry advice.

After Darry was done telling us everything, we all sat in eerie silence. Soda and I had to digest all of the information we received, and Darry looked even more exhausted and out of breath once he finished spewing words.

I wasn't sure how to feel. I was glad Darry wasn't dead and that he was just in a coma when he was with our parents, but it still seemed like something that would only happen when you aren't entirely alive, and that scared me more than anything. Didn't Darry technically die at some point, even multiple times? I watched him stop breathing, and if he talked to our dead parents, then he must've been really close to not coming back to us.

I was jealous that he got to see Mom and Dad while Soda and I didn't, but I felt bad for feeling that way. It almost felt like I was blaming Darry or was mad at him for it, but that wasn't right. I missed my parents and wanted to see them just one more time, but if I couldn't see them, I needed to be grateful that at least one of my brothers could.

"Do they know we love them and miss them?" I asked, my quiet voice almost squeaking.

Darry gave me a small smile and squeezed my hand. Until that moment, I didn't realize that he had held it the entire time he spoke. "Yes, I made sure they knew. They feel the same way kiddo."

"And they're really proud of us?" Soda asked, his voice sounding younger than typical too.

"They are," Darry said genuinely. "They're real proud of all of us."

He'd probably never say it out loud, but I knew when Soda heard that Dad called him smart in a non-school way, it made him feel really good. Soda never cared about school or what other people thought about his intelligence, but there was a glint in his eye when he heard that Dad said he was smart.

Soda was sniffling and crying quietly, and I wondered if his tears were of happiness, sadness, or fear, because I was struggling to figure out how I felt too. I guess we can feel all of those things; we can be happy to hear about Darry's experience with our parents, sad that they're gone and we'll never see them again, and scared about what the experience meant for Darry and how close we came to losing him.

"Are you guys okay?" Darry asked quietly. "I know it's a lot to take in."

Soda and I looked at each other. Sure, it was surprising and a little terrifying to hear Darry recount his experience, but after the shock started to fade, I felt an odd serenity, and I could see the feeling mirrored on Soda's face.

"Yeah, we're alright Dar," Soda answered for the both of us. "I'm glad you were able to talk with them. It sounds like it was real nice."

Darry gave a sad smile. "It was, but now it's almost like I lost them all over again."

It felt like my heart stopped. I didn't even think about that. Here I was, sulking that I couldn't see my parents one more time, but I didn't even think about how that would make Darry feel after waking up.

"They're never really gone," I whispered, repeating what my big brother said earlier. His eyes focused on mine, and I noticed his had become watery. "You just proved it. They're watching over us."

I thought I saw a tear trail down Darry's cheek, but before I could be sure, he gently pulled my arm towards him and wrapped me in a warm hug. "That's right, Pone. They love us and are looking down, watching all of their boys." I knew he was mainly talking about the three of us, but our parents considered the gang to be their boys too.

I felt Soda join the embrace, sandwiching me between my big brothers. "I love you guys."

Darry murmured, "Love you both too."

I had to say the words. I had to let him know I truly meant it. "I love you Darry. You too Soda." The arms around me tightened a little in a gesture that told me they both heard me.

We sat like that for a minute, then Darry let out a yawn, signaling Soda and me to pull away from him and return to our chairs. "Think we can get a few more hours of sleep?" Darry asked. He looked at both of us, but his eyes lingered on me the longest.

I nodded. I'll try.

As if sensing my apprehension about going back to sleep and possibly enduring more nightmares, Darry reached out and patted my knee. "Remember kiddo, none of this is your fault, and I'll be good as new in no time. Don't worry about me."

"Yeah, we got guardian angels watching us and making sure Darry heals up just fine," Soda added.

Darry grinned and nodded. "That's right. And in the meantime, if you and Soda insist on staying here, I need you two to get some sleep. Otherwise I'll have one of the guys bring you home."

I let out a breath. "No. I can sleep here."

"Then get some sleep," Darry instructed gently. "Soda and I will be right here if you need anything."

I nodded and got as comfortable as I could in the chair. Somehow, whether it was from pure exhaustion or my mind finally being calm, I feel asleep within seconds.