Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You mean it?”

Darry looked at his brothers and grinned. “Yeah, I mean it. We missed the annual camping trip last year. I ain’t gonna drop the ball on that one again. Friday through Sunday. I’m taking off.”

Sodapop whooped. “Aw yeahhhh, the Curtises are back at it again!”

Ever since Darry had turned eight, Dad had taken him (and his brothers, once they hit that age) on a camping trip. They’d fished, made their own dinners, roasted marshmallows, hiked, and roughed it out in a tent under the stars. Every year, Darry had looked forward to that summer trip. Last year, he’d been too overwhelmed to take time off and make it work. They’d done the trip without dad for a couple of years when Dad wasn’t able to take off work, and Darry had taken his brothers, but last year had just been… a lot.

But he wasn’t going to let the tradition slip away again. They all deserved a fun vacation.

“To the lake?” Pony asked.

“I was thinking we should go somewhere new. There’s a national forest a couple hour’s drive south with great camping, hiking, fishing, whatever we want.”

“Oh, this is great!” Sodapop gushed. “We can make a fire, and, Pony, I’ll bet you’ve read or seen some good monster stories to tell, right? Oh! And we can have pike—I’ll even bring the food coloring, it can be green or blue or—or both!”

Darry put his hands on Soda’s shoulders. “All right, all right, no need to get carried away too quickly. I say we just enjoy the weekend as it comes, okay, little buddy?”

Despite the trip being several days away, Soda was so excited, he packed his bag that night. Pony came up to Darry before bed, softly saying, “Thanks, Darry. This means a lot. To both of us.”

Darry smiled back. “To all three of us,” he corrected.

That Friday morning was a whirlwind. Darry called Two-Bit and Steve, letting them know they’d be back Sunday evening. The boys packed their clothes and dusted off the camping supplies stuffed in the hallway closet. They filled a cooler with food, and soon, everyone was ready to go. Looking at his brothers, Darry could see they were nearly bursting with excitement. There was a shine in Ponyboy’s eyes, and Soda was bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Darry snickered. “You gonna survive the two and a half hours in the car, Pepsi-Cola?”

“Hardly. But I’ll do my best.”

They spent the car ride with Elvis blaring on the radio and making fun of the other drivers and passengers they passed, making up the wildest stories about their destinations. It was the first time in a while that Darry felt like he could just relax, have fun, and just be a brother instead of a guardian.

Upon reaching the campsite, Pony and Soda got busy pitching the tent while Darry unpacked the rest of their things. He remembered trips from years ago when his brothers would argue over who got to do what, like pitch the tent, light the fire, or fetch the firewood.

The scenery was great. The sky was blue, full of wispy clouds. There were lush trees in every direction. They were close enough to a lake that Darry could smell the freshwater. It made him feel more peace than he had in a long time.

They spent the afternoon on a hike. Darry was always scanning the path for rattlers and made sure they didn’t stray from the trail, but overall, it was a nice time without any mishaps. Pony talked about school, Soda talked about wild customers at work, Darry talked about one of his eccentric coworkers, and they pointed out sights on the trail, marveling at the mountain landscapes.

They returned late that afternoon with worked up appetites, so they spent some time fishing, hoping to catch their meal. Darry had the most luck with a nice, large pike. Pony got a couple of smaller pickerel. Soda, sadly, only caught a few little things that had to be thrown back. But they returned with plenty for dinner.

They got to work gutting and scaling the fish, then frying them over the fire Ponyboy built. They diced and fried some root vegetables, too, and overall, it was a deeply satisfying meal.

Roasted marshmallows concluded the night as they looked up at the stars, Pony identifying constellations and telling ancient myths about them. As Darry stared up into the endless sky, catching sight of a shooting star, he became lost in Pony’s story about two twins, Castor and Pollux. The dramatic tale of the mortal Castor’s death. His demigod brother, Pollux, overcome with grief, begging Zeus to let him share his own immortality with Castor. Zeus granting his request, letting the two of them alternate between the Underworld and the heavens together, immortalized in the stars.

For a story thousands of years old, and for stars that far surpassed their story in age, Darry found the myth oddly resonant. Maybe it was just that he liked the sound of Pony’s voice when he was sharing a story, but maybe it was something deeper.

That night, after a pillow fight, the brothers curled into their sleeping bags, and Darry listened to the crickets and cicadas chirp. He’d missed this. He’d really missed this.

After a time, when Soda’s gentle snores and Ponyboy’s heavy breathing gave away that they were fast asleep, Darry relaxed enough to give into the much-needed rest, too. If he closed his eyes and imagined hard enough, he could almost hear Dad sighing in his sleep, as well.

And there, back in the wilderness after so long, Darry wondered if this trip could do more than refresh his soul. Maybe it could reconnect him with memories of Dad. Memories he’d rather die than forget.

In the darkness, his eyes adjusted, he looked at Dad’s sons, seeing a bit of him in both of their faces. No one ever said Soda and Pony looked like Dad. They were too distracted by Darry’s uncanny resemblance to Darrel Sr. that they never even thought to look for his resemblance in the younger two. But Darry noticed. As much as Soda looked like mom. As unique as Ponyboy looked. He could see traces of his parents in them both.

That weighed on his heart as he drifted to sleep, but not in the heavy, burdensome way. No. It felt like an embrace. Like a trace of Mom and Dad were still with them, even now.

Chapter Text

“It’s a long hike,” Darry explained. “It will take the better part of the day. About eight hours. We’ll have to bring food. You up for it?”

Ponyboy felt more than up for it. Even though school didn’t start for another two months, he’d been training for cross country season, going on runs every day and building his stamina.

Sodapop nodded eagerly.

Even as kids on these trips, Dad would take them on a big, long hike one day. There had been some strenuous ones, but by the very end, Ponyboy had always felt so accomplished. Dad would swing him up on his shoulders, and Sodapop would hang onto Dad’s waist, and Dad would be looping his arms around Soda and Darry like they were the whole world.

From high up on Dad’s shoulders, Pony had felt like he could see for miles and miles. He’d ring his arms around Dad’s neck and listen to whatever song Dad was humming (he tended to do that a lot). They’d go back to camp together and sing whatever folk song Dad started.

Pony couldn’t believe it had already been a year and a half since losing them. Life had changed so much. They’d lost so much more. But life went on, and so had the Curtises. They were tough. And at this point, thinking about his parents brought him less grief and a bit more joy.

He didn’t think that would be the case if he didn’t have the brothers he did. If he didn’t have them, he didn’t know where he’d be. Darry and Sodapop weren’t Mom and Dad. He didn’t want them to be, either. But they had stepped up in ways that young people like them rarely did. They had become his guardian and his role model without second thoughts.

This time last year, Pony had hated what life was like. He didn’t want Darry scolding him or yelling at him when he came home late, he wanted Dad’s hugs and laughter. And though he’d loved Soda more than anything back then, he didn’t want Soda’s hand on his forehead when he got sick or Soda’s loud voice whenever the noise in the house when things got too much, he wanted Mom’s gentle scolding and firm demeanor and loving hold.

Pony still missed them to pieces, but he felt at peace in his life now. He loved his brothers more than he ever had, he had good friends at school, he was doing well in sports and classes, and home life was a lot less tense than it had once been. There were still fights, but not like the fights of last year. These weren’t arguments that had pent up over months, just simple squabbles that usually resolved themselves quickly. Pony especially felt that he and Darry understood each other more than ever, even if they were still working at it.

At first, as much as Pony loved Darry, he was trying to get along with him for Soda’s sake. But as time passed, he realized he was really doing it for Darry. Because he knew the guy already had so much on his shoulders, because he saw how much Darry cared, because he saw the work and love Darry poured every day into him, and he wanted to give it back, because Darry deserved the same.

That morning, they lathered up with sunscreen, then packed sandwiches, plenty of water, snacks, their map and compass, first aid, a flashlight, multitools, jackets, and matches.

They set out while the sun was still low and the morning was still cool. The ground was damp, and the air smelled earthy, as it had rained during the night.

They started the first hour of their hike. Soda stumbled once, and Darry caught his arm. “Careful,” he warned. “Rain always shifts the ground a bit. Watch your step.”

Pushing forward, the topic of conversation shifted to teasing Darry about his love life.

“So.” Soda waggled his eyebrows, nudging Darry with his shoulder. “Seen Dotty recently? I reckon you were on a phone call just a little too long last week.”

Darry rolled his eyes, but Ponyboy didn’t miss the small gleam of joy in his eyes. “It ain’t all that serious. S’only been a few dates.”

Soda lit up. “Sounds like there'll be more, huh?”

“I ain’t takin’ anything too fast, okay?”

“Sounds like a yes to me.”

“She is real cute.” Pony shrugged.

“See!” Soda jabbed a finger in Darry’s chest.

“Well, yeah,” Darry said, pink springing to his cheeks. “But just because someone’s cute ain’t mean… whatever. I don’t need you both pestering me. I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

They kept on, stopping for lunch in the shade when the sun was at its peak, only continuing when it hid behind the clouds again.

Soda held the map and compass, pretending to get them lost several times, jokingly holding up his hand to navigate by the sun.

After the rainfall of the night before, the forest was beautiful, everything washed sharp and green. Pony loved the scent of everything, reaching out to brush his fingers along the drying ferns.

The trail curved tighter along a ridge, the drop-off growing steeper to the right. Below, the forest dipped into shadowy ravines, slick rock faces gleaming. Ponyboy swallowed. Heights had always made him uneasy, and this path looked thinner the further they went.

“Careful,” Darry reminded. “Stay close to the wall.”

They obeyed, but the ground didn’t.

It started small—just a pebble skittering under Pony’s boot. He froze, his arms jerking out for balance. The stone bounced off the ledge and vanished into the dizzying green below.

Soda instinctively reached out for Pony’s sleeve, but the motion shifted his own weight wrong, and the mud beneath his feet broke loose with a sickening crack.

Pony and Soda’s eyes locked in fear. Pony tried to push them back, get them both closer against the wall, though it didn’t seem anything would help. His boots sank in the mud, and it felt like the very ground was giving way underneath him.

Darry lunged forward, shoving both boys hard into the inner trail, but it didn’t matter. The ground collapsed underneath them, crumbling and loose and wet.

It was impossible to think in the following moments. The world became chaos. Mud and stone roared around Pony, tearing at his arms and legs. He tumbled and tumbled, unable to see anything in the spinning world. He shouted as his elbow cracked against rock. Somewhere far away, he heard Darry’s raw and gutteral scream.

After what felt like an eternity of falling and skidding and pain, the world finally went still. Pony groaned, not sure if he could get up. He spat dirt from his mouth and blinked grit from his eyes. Everything ached. His elbow throbbed.

What the hell had happened? A landslide?

His head shot up, remembering his brothers. His arm screamed with pain as he tried to push himself up, but he managed, the world swaying sickeningly. “Darry?” he called, his voice a croak. “Soda!”

A choked cry answered him, strained and sharp. Pony’s head whipped behind him, and his stomach lurched.

Darry was sprawled in the dirt, shaking, his thigh bent at an unnatural angle. White bone jutted through torn flesh, blood pooling dark and fast around it. Darry’s face was contorted in agony as his hands hovered around his leg. His breaths came quick and short, each one laced with deep pain.

Ponyboy’s vision swam, and before he could stop himself, he doubled over and retched into the mud.

He heard another sound, muffled, and turned again, a scream lodging in his throat.

His other brother’s arm was sticking out of the mess of rocks and dirt, fingers twitching weakly.

Hating to leave Darry, but knowing Soda’s situation was the most urgent, Pony scrambled to him, clawing at the piled rocks and dirt, searching for Soda’s head. He must be suffocating. The earth tore Pony’s nails and sliced his palms, but he didn’t stop. “I’m here, Soda!” he called, hoping his brother was still conscious to hear him. “I’m gonna get you out!” His body protested with every movement. The thought of Soda going still under his hands spurred him faster, frantic.

At last, one big slab of dirt shifted loose, and Soda’s face appeared. He gasped as the weight lifted, coughing violently. Pony sobbed in relief, his body doubling over. Everything was loose enough that he was able to pull Soda clear of the debris, collapsing with him in the dirt.

Sodapop clung to him, trembling all over as he gasped for breath. “I thought—I thought I was—” His voice broke, and he buried his face against Pony’s shoulder, sobbing.

Pony held him tight, his own chest heaving. “Shh. You’re okay. You’re okay. I got you.”

Then Darry’s ragged cry tore through the moment, pulling them both back to reality. The worst wasn’t over. Not even close.

A confused sound left Soda’s throat, then a choked cry. He and Pony scrambled to Darry.

“Oh, God, oh God—” Soda dropped to his knees beside Darry, hands hovering helplessly. He looked at the wound, at Darry’s face, back to the wound, his breathing coming in short, panicked bursts.

Darry sobbed. The noise didn’t even sound like him. His hands clawed at the dirt, his teeth gritted so hard his jaw shook. “I—I can’t—I can’t—” The words tumbled out between panicked, pained gasps. “It’s—it’s too bad—”

“No, no, no, no, no, Darry.” Soda’s tears spilled over, streaking down his cheeks. He pressed trembling hands against Darry’s chest and hair like he could hold him together that way. “You’re gonna be okay. Please, please—”

Pony was shaking so hard he could barely keep upright. He crawled to Darry’s other side, reaching out with clumsy, bleeding fingers, and grabbed his hand.

“Oh, no. Oh, no.” Soda looked at Darry’s leg again, his face awash with horror. “I’m so sorry, Darry, I’m so sorry.” He looked at Pony. “What do we do?” he whispered.

They had to stop the bleeding first, right? But how could they do that without hurting him more? His bone was sticking out! His bone!

Thinking quickly, Pony removed his belt. “Darry,” he said. “I’m sorry, but this is gonna hurt.” He looped the belt under Darry’s upper thigh, just a few inches above the broken bone. He hitched the belt, then he pulled it tight.

Darry screamed, and Pony felt like his heart was shattering. Soda cradled Darry’s head in his lap, whispering small comforts as he nervously watched Ponyboy work.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Pony repeated, laying his forehead against Darry’s shoulder. “I had to. I had to.” He looked up at where he thought they had fallen from, but it was so far up, and the slope had completely crumbled. There was no going back the way they’d come. “Soda, do you have the map and compass?”

Soda looked down, like he suddenly realized he didn’t. He looked at Pony again, his eyes bright with fear. “N—No?” He looked around, as did Pony, but the navigation tools were nowhere to be seen. With the amount of earth that had slid, finding them again would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Soda hung his head. “Fuck. I—I was holding them. I must’ve dropped them.”

“I don’t blame you,” Pony whispered. No one could’ve held onto them in a fall like that. It was a miracle they were all even still alive. “We need to move him. I—I don’t know how we can move him.”

Darry sobbed again, and the sound hit Pony even harder than the fall had. He’d seen Darry cry before. Just a few times, but it happened. But this was different. The cries were raw, unstoppable, pulled straight out of him.

Soda’s hands tightened on Darry’s arm. His own face crumpled, more tears slipping. “Oh, Darry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. He stroked Darry’s hair back. “Honey, I’m so sorry. We’re gonna fix this.”

Darry tried to muffle the sound, but the pain was clearly too much, and the tears kept coming. His shoulders shook beneath their touch, and his face twisted in anguish.

Pony leaned against his side, his own tears spilling over then, chest aching with how much it hurt to watch. “We’re here,” he whispered. Even though it felt useless. “We’re right here, Darry. We’re not leaving.”

They needed shelter. What if there was another landslide? They shouldn’t stay there any longer. They needed Darry somewhere safer, more stable. But he weighed over two hundred pounds. Even if his leg was intact, he wasn’t sure if he and Soda could lift him.

“We need to move him,” Ponyboy said again.

Soda’s head snapped up, panic flashing in his red-rimmed eyes. “We can’t. Look at him—he’ll die if we move him.”

Pony shook his head. “No. He’ll sure have a bad time of it, but he’ll die if we don’t.” His voice was small but firm. None of them were safe there, anyway. If another slide came, they’d be buried, and there’d be no one to dig them out.

“Shit,” Soda swore. He dug inside their backpacks, which they each thankfully still had, pulling out their jackets. “Help me.” He spread them on the ground beside Darry. Pony helped him overlap them. After that, they stabilized Darry’s leg as best as they could with some sticks and Soda’s belt.

“Darry,” Soda whispered, kneeling down and brushing his brother’s sweat-soaked hair back. “We’re gonna move you, okay? Just a little ways. I need you to hang on.”

Darry groaned faintly, eyes rolling half-shut. His leg twitched, and he let out a strangled cry that made Pony flinch.

Together, ever so slowly, Pony and Soda eased him onto the makeshift canvas. Every inch they shifted him, Darry screamed, the sound ragged and raw. His hand clawed weakly at Soda’s arm, his face twisted in agony. Pony’s stomach lurched at the sight of the bone jutting pale and horrible through the blood-stained fabric of his jeans.

“Shh, shh—it’s okay, Darry, we got you,” Soda sobbed.

When Darry was finally settled on the jackets, Pony and Soda grabbed the sleeves like handles and began to drag. Pony’s arm ached so badly, but he knew it was nothing compared to what Darry was feeling, so he pulled and pulled anyway. Darry cried out again and again, his voice breaking in a way Pony had never heard before.

“I’m sorry, Darry—I’m sorry!” Pony gasped with each pull, tears streaking down his face. “We gotta, we gotta.”

Soda’s breaths came in sobs as he dragged with him. “Just a little further. I promise, I promise. Just hang on, Dar. Please, hang on.”

By the time they reached a patch of ground that leveled out beneath a rocky overhand, the three of them were wrecked. Pony collapsed beside Darry, trembling, while Soda dropped to his knees, pulling Darry’s head into his lap and rocking him gently, whispering nonsense through his tears.

Their shelter was crude and desperate, but at least they were out of the slide zone. They would have to do better in a minute, but for now, all Pony could do was lay gasping on the ground beside his brothers, hardly able to process what had just happened to them.

Darry was injured, they were lost, and there was no one coming to look for them.

Chapter Text

Sodapop couldn’t remember ever being so scared in his life.

Not when he tore his ligament. Not when Mom and Dad died. Not when Johnny killed that kid. Not when Pony ran away and went missing with Johnny. Not when Sandy told him she was pregnant. Not when Johnny died. Not when Dally was killed. Not when Pony was so sick in the hospital. Not when they went to court for the trial.

No. He was watching his older brother dying in front of his eyes, and he didn’t know what the hell to do.

Dying. He was sure. Because how could anyone survive an injury like that without help? How could infection not set in? They had first aid, not anything actually useful. They had an aspirin to give him, but nothing more than that. Nothing that would actually help him.

With all his heart, Soda wished it had been him in Darry’s place. He wanted to take the pain. He wanted Darry to know what to do. Soda wasn’t built for this. He didn’t know what to do in an emergency. Hell, Pony had been the one taking charge just to get Darry this far. What had Soda done? Cried? Talked? Great, the only two things he was good at. He’d never felt so useless.

In Darry’s haze, he reached out, and Soda took his hand, rubbing circles on the back with his thumbs. A fraction of the pinched pain left Darry’s face.

Okay, then. Maybe not useless.

“Can you speak?” Soda asked softly.

“Where’s—Pony?”

“He’s gone to get some things,” Soda explained. “Firewood and some softer stuff for you to rest on. How are you feeling? How’s the pain?”

“Bad,” Darry grunted, but Soda was just relieved he was able to speak again. “I—I’ve never felt like this before.”

“I know, hon. But it’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna find you help.”

“How?”

Soda bit his lip. He didn’t have an answer.

“How—How bad was the—the fall? Could someone get back up?”

Soda shook his head. “No. Pony’s going to check again, but I didn’t see any way. But—But it’s okay. We’ll find another way, no problem.”

“Stop lying.”

Soda’s chin quivered. “Well, uh… The trail collapsed, but maybe there’ll still be hikers headed that way. Pony could stay at the bottom and yell if someone comes by? His voice would carry, I’m sure.”

“Maybe.” Darry shuddered, and Soda wrapped his jacked tighter around him.

Pony soon returned with an armful of pine branches and started situating a makeshift bed for Darry. “Couldn’t find much dry wood,” Pony said, “but I got a little that might work. And some leaves for catching. I’m thinking we build the fire right beyond the overhang so the smoke is visible.”

“Good thinking,” Soda said. And Pony got to work with the fire.

Soda looked back at Darry. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his eyes were drooping. “Do you need to sleep?”

“I… I dunno if I can.”

“Try.” Soda stroked Darry’s hair back, hoping the repetitive motion would soothe him.

“You—You won’t go anywhere?”

“No.” Soda was shocked he’d even ask such a thing. “No, both of us are stayin’ right here. We ain’t leavin’ you, buddy. No siree.”

Darry nodded, and despite his doubts, he was asleep within minutes.

His face was less pained in sleep. Soda hummed a lullaby.

“Yes,” he heard Pony say. He looked over to see the fire Pony had been trying and failing to nurse to life catching the stacked sticks.

Soda smiled for what felt like the first time in ages. “Good job.”

Pony grinned back, victory on his mud-streaked face. “Okay, you keep this going, and I’ll go check the slope again like we talked about.”

Unease suddenly filled Sodapop’s stomach. “Maybe you shouldn’t. The ground was uneasy over there.”

Pony nodded. “I know. I’ll stay away from where everything fell. I’ll just be looking. And then I’ll wait there for a while, see if I can see any other hikers approaching. Don’t worry. I’ll still be within shouting distance of you guys.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

Ponyboy saluted. “Will do.”

As Pony left, Soda looked back at Darry’s leg. He loosened the belt so Darry’s circulation wouldn’t be cut off, checking the bleeding. He cut a part of his shirt off to wrap it better. He wondered if he could cut a bit of the jeans away from the open wound, just so he could check it well, make sure it wouldn’t be turning any funny colors. Even if it did, he didn’t know what he’d do. But it sounded like a good idea, especially if he could just get the bits cut off before the blood dried and fused them to Darry’s skin.

He had all the time in the world, so with the carefulest touch he’d ever used, he used the knife on his multitool and miraculously stripped away the edges of the ruined clothing without stirring his brother.

Fully visible, the injury looked even more grotesque. Soda had to dissociate, telling himself it was just another object, not Darry’s bone. But now, he’d be able to keep a better eye on it.

He carefully draped his own jacked over Darry’s legs, grateful when he stayed asleep. After that, Soda checked the backpacks, gauging how much water and food they had. He added to the fire, watching the flame lick the only dry wood that Pony had been able to find. Soda would go out and find more once Pony was back. Then, he lay down and curled up at Darry’s side again.

He closed his eyes against the teary sting. How could things go wrong so quickly? He should’ve been grateful that he and Pony were well and mobile. But it was hard to be grateful for that much when Darry was like this. Glory, it physically hurt to see him in this much pain. It took a lot of pain to break Darry. Sodapop had seen him through countless kitchen knife mishaps, days where his back was killing him after work, and migraines. Nothing had ever rattled Darry like this.

He hadn’t even known that people could really break that bone. Kids came to school with their wrists or ankles or arms in casts. Soda had even had to wear something back when he’d torn the ligament in his leg. But he didn’t even know how a hospital would begin to treat this.

At least Darry was asleep now. Soda didn’t have to see his pain on full display right then. Which felt selfish of him—he wasn’t the one with a broken leg—but he was beyond caring. He was scared, exhausted, and filling with more dread by the minute.

Glory, did he hope Pony would find help.

Chapter Text

Darry woke in immense pain, groaning in a strained voice. Soda remained at his side, Ponyboy now returned after an unsuccessful survey of the cliff and waiting for help. Nobody came.

Night had fallen now, and Darry was running a fever. Another rainfall was blowing in, but the brothers would be shielded by the rock overhang. Unfortunately, that meant they had to build another fire, and Pony and Soda rushed to collect any dry wood they could find before the storm started. Luckily, they found enough to hopefully keep the fire going for another day or so.

Soda felt sick as he looked after his brother. He didn’t know how to help. There was nothing he could do to ease his pain.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” Soda finally asked as the three of them curled up together for warmth and sleep.

“Talk,” Darry pleaded, his voice tight. “Make me—think about—anything else, Pepsi. Please.”

“Okay.” But his mind drew up blank. “Uh, Pone? Any ideas?”

Pony hummed quietly. “You could talk about your drag race last month.”

“You little rat!” Soda shrieked. “You said you wouldn’t tell!”

Darry shot him a glare, but Soda also caught the corners of his mouth pulling into something close to a smirk. He’d count that as a win.

“Something else,” Soda said. “Something Darry won’t tan my hide for later.”

Pony’s expression softened. “Tell a story about Johnny.”

Soda’s heart stuttered. They didn’t talk about Johnny all that often. They’d avoided the topic altogether in the months after it had happened, just because it always set Pony off. But in these past months, Pony had been bringing him up. They talked about the people they’d loved now, and Soda felt like, instead of stirring up grief, it helped heal them a little more each time.

“Okay, then. Well, I was the first of us to meet Johnny. It was the first day of first grade. There was a quiet little dark-haired kid in my class. I didn’t officially meet him until recess later in the week. I just didn’t think we’d get along. I was loud and energetic, and this kid looked like the mousy sort, you know?

“Well, we were playing hide and seek, and as I was trying to find a place to hide, I crawled into one of the play structures, and there was Johnny Cade, huddled like he was trying to make himself even smaller.

“He looked startled when he saw me. Probably knew I was the loud kid who kept disrupting class and who had been sent to the principal’s office twice already in the first week. But I smiled and introduced myself anyway.

“Well, somehow, he opened up a little bit, and we got to talkin’. I soon forgot I was playin’ hide and seek at all. Johnny didn’t talk much, but there was somethin’ that just drew me to him, you know? When I learned his name, I said, ‘Oh, like Johnny Appleseed!’ And the nickname stuck.

“You know the rest. The Cades had just moved in down the street. When he came to school the next day with a black eye, I soon realized what was happenin’. I took him home to meet y’all. He just fit in right away, y’know? We knew to look after him ever since. And he took a real shine to little Pony. Kindred spirits, or somethin’. And the rest was history.”

Soda’s brothers had wistful looks on their faces, like they, too, were remembering their early days with Johnny Cade.

Soda didn’t sleep well that night. The ground was hard, and it was so cold, because he had given Darry his jacket. Sleeping next to him and the fire only helped a little. His dreams replayed the accident over and over. When morning finally rolled around, he felt like he’d hardly slept at all.

Pony was up first, bringing the embers of their fire back to life. Thankfully, he looked better rested than Soda felt.

He sat up and checked on Darry. Still asleep, but his face was flushed with fever. He’d listened to Darry’s groans all through the night. His brother was not getting better.

“What do you think?” Soda asked Pony. “If you trailed the bottom of the ravine until you found a way that wasn’t too steep to climb, could you find the trail again?”

Miserably, Pony shook his head. “I don’t think so. Remember, it only just started edging the cliff edge. We were in the woods most of the time. There were blazes every once in a while, but even if I did find the trail, it might be impossible to recognize without a map or already knowing I was headed the right way.”

Soda’s stomach sank. “Isn’t it worth a try? What else can we do? I don’t know if it’s wise to stay put. Darry’s getting worse.”

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do if you get lost? Stay put?” Pony asked in a small voice.

“If someone knew where we were going! If someone knew we were missing!” Soda’s voice rose in panic. It was Saturday. They weren’t expected back until Sunday night. It might not even be until Monday morning that someone at work or school or Two-Bit or Steve realized something was wrong. And even then, they knew what park they were in, but that was it. It could take rangers a long while to find them. If Darry’s leg got worse, they might not even have days to wait. They could wait at first, but not for long.

People died like this. He’d heard stories of people losing trails and their bodies not being found for years.

Darry’s eyelids fluttered. His brow scrunched, like he didn’t realize where he was at first. Then, his expression grew somber.

“‘Mornin’,” Sodapop greeted, squeezing Darry’s shoulder.

Darry responded, but it was unintelligible murmuring. Soda nodded anyway, like he understood. “We’re all here. Awake. Alive. That’s what matters. How’s the pain?”

“Awful.”

Soda hummed in sympathy. “Well, I’m gonna tell you more stories to take your mind off it, okay? Let’s get some water and food in you first, though.”

“Soda?”

“Mm?”

Darry’s voice lowered. “I hafta piss. I—I can’t move.”

Soda’s heart panged for him. Darry was feeling enough already. Soda didn’t want embarrassment added to the stack. “Well, of course ya do, it’s only natural. Now, let’s see…”

Darry grimaced. “I can’t—I can’t even—” His breath hitched. “Glory, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Soda said quickly. “Don’t you dare be sorry. We all do it. It’s okay.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then, Pony swallowed hard. “What if we… dig a little trench under you? So you don’t have to move far? Then we can cover it up again.”

Soda nodded immediately. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s what we’ll do. Good idea, Pony.” He squeezed Darry’s hand. “We’ll make it easy for you. Don’t worry. No big deal.”

Darry’s eyes grew glassy and embarrassed. “I hate this,” he rasped.

“We know.” Soda rubbed circles on Darry’s knuckles. “But we don’t care. We’re takin’ care of you, Dar. That’s what family does.”

Pony grabbed a flat rock and started scraping at the earth near Darry’s hips, noticeably trying to avoid looking at the broken bone. It took a few minutes, but eventually, he’d dug a small trench.

Soda bent down, his voice gentle. “Okay, Darry. Just a little bit of movin’, and then ya can piss. We’ll give you some space.”

Darry’s eyes lit with panic. He grabbed Soda’s sleeve. “Don’t leave.”

“O—Oh. Okay. Yeah, we don’t have to. We can just…” A grin split his face. “You know what? Pony and I will go right over there, and all three of us will just have a good ol’ family piss, how’s that sound?”

Pony flushed and wrinkled his nose. “You’re gross. I ain’t takin’ no communal piss with you. Not if you say it like that.”

Soda slung his arm around him. “For Darry!”

Darry groaned, but not in pain this time. He just seemed exasperated in the usual way. Just typical brother-annoyed. Soda smiled wider. Score. Despite Pony’s protests, he dragged him a few yards away with him, and they all did their business.

The morning passed slowly and painstakingly. Pony waited in the ravine for hikers again, to no avail. Soda talked Darry’s ear off, watching him get sicker and sicker.

Soon, a full 24 hours had rolled around. Then a couple more passed. Nothing changed.

Pony returned, and after a rationing of their remaining snacks, Pony announced, “I’m going to find help.”

Soda and Darry looked his way. Fear coursed through Soda’s stomach. “No. No, you’re not leaving.”

“I have to. We can’t wait here for help any longer. Darry—” Pony’s voice choked. “Just… we can’t.”

Soda looked frantically at Darry. “I can’t leave. I can’t leave you.”

“You won’t be,” Ponyboy said. “It’s just going to be me.”

“No! You—You could get lost or hurt, or—or—or worse! And we won’t be there to help you.”

“It’s better than this,” Pony said decidedly. “Trust me. I can do this. I’m in good shape. I’ll use my head.”

Soda sat rigid, one arm curled protectively around Darry’s shoulders. Darry looked pale and glassy-eyed, but awake enough to understand. The weight of his gaze pinned Pony where he stood.

“Fine, then. You’re not just runnin’ off,” Soda said hoarsely. “We’re makin’ this smart, Ponyboy. Rules. You follow them, or you don’t go.”

Pony nodded quickly. “Okay. Rules.”

“First thing,” Soda said, his voice cracking but steady, “You’ll be back no later than an hour before sunset. You hear me? Don’t keep goin’. That’s how people die out here.”

Pony nodded. “Okay.”

“If you can’t find a way back up,” Darry said, his voice raspy, “find water and stick close to it. Follow it downstream. If you’re lucky, you find a road or civilization or someone eventually. Then you can find your way back to us, too. There might be other trails, too, so keep your eye out for trodden ground or blazes.”

“All right,” Pony whispered, clutching his hand.

Soda’s eyes filled. He grabbed Pony’s wrist hard. “I meant it about an hour before sundown. I don’t care if you think you’re close—you don’t stay out in the dark, Ponyboy. You don’t. And—And make noise every once in a while. You shouldn't come across anything dangerous, not during the day, but it's best to startle anything away first before... you know.”

Pony nodded quickly.

“And if somethin’ happens—if you twist an ankle, or you get lost—you yell,” Soda added fiercely. “I don’t care how far you are, I’ll find you.” His jaw trembled. “I’ll come runnin’ through the whole damn forest if I have to.”

Darry’s lips parted again, his voice faint but firm. “Don’t…run yourself ragged. Think. Stay calm. You panic, you’re gone.” His eyes, usually so steady, brimmed with pain and fear. “You’re all we got, Pony. Don’t you dare…” His voice cracked, words breaking apart.

“I’ll be careful,” Pony whispered, squeezing his brother’s hand tight. “I’ll come back. I swear.”

Soda yanked him into a crushing hug. “You’d better,” he muttered into his hair. His voice shook. “We love you, baby. Be so careful.”

When Soda finally let go, Pony looked at them one last time—Soda bent protectively over Darry, Darry’s face pale but eyes locked on his little brother like he could keep him safe by sheer will.

Then Pony turned toward the trees.

Chapter Text

The slope loomed above Pony, steep and slick with mud, mocking every attempt he made to climb. Pony’s shoes slid out from under him, sending him clawing at roots and rocks, but every time he made a few feet of progress, the earth crumbled, and he slipped right back down, dirt and pebbles raining on his head. By the fourth try, his palms were raw, his knees stinging, and tears of frustration burned his eyes. His elbow screamed in pain. He wondered if he’d fractured it.

He stood at the bottom, chest heaving, staring up at the impossible wall of dirt and stone. They were trapped. Darry, broken and feverish, was trapped.

He walked the perimeter, looking for another way, but he came to dead ends and curves and unfamiliar territory. This wouldn’t work either.

“Okay,” he whispered to himself, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Okay. Water, then. Darry said water.”

He picked his way through the underbrush until he found a trickle—a thin stream winding through the rocks. He followed it, hoping it would lead him somewhere. A trail. A campsite. A road. Someone.

He followed it for an hour, then another, keeping a steady walking pace, though the stream remained a stream. It never really got any wider. The trees crowded thick around him, the stream winding deeper and deeper until the light dimmed beneath the canopy. Then—there. A scar on the bark of a tree, a slash of white against the wood. It could have been a blemish on the bark, but it equally looked manmade. It might be a trailblaze. His heart leapt.

He hurried toward it, stumbling over roots, chasing the faint hope like a lifeline. His legs burned, lungs tight, but he pressed on until he reached the tree. His fingers pressed against the mark—smooth, peeled bark. Not a blaze. Just storm damage.

“No, no, no…” His voice cracked, wild with panic, he spun in a circle, searching for another mark, another sign, anything. But there were just endless trees pressing in.

Even so, he dashed around from tree to tree. There had to be something. He couldn’t have come all this way for nothing. But after some time of searching, he knew it was hopeless.

He couldn’t exactly see where the sun was anymore. Too many trees were overhead, and clouds had masked the sky earlier. He knew he’d been heading east, for the most part, but which way exactly was west now? He had to turn back if he was going to make it back an hour before sunset.

Pony stumbled back, trying to retrace his steps to the stream, but every direction looked the same. He searched frantically, heart hammering, but the trickle of water was gone, hidden somehow in the green and shadows.

By the time he sank down on a mossy log, the sky was already tinged gold through the clouds and the trees, from what little he could see. His throat was thick with tears, his hands shaking so badly he could barely hold them still. He was lost. Lost, lost.

He dug his fists into his eyes, trying not to cry. Darry was dying. Soda was waiting. And he was just… lost.

I don’t care how far you are, I’ll find you.

Sodapop’s words echoed in his mind. They sounded impossible, but he knew his brother’s fervor. Sodapop would never stop looking, and that terrified Pony as much as it comforted him.

Soda had given him instructions. Pony only had one thing left to do: follow them.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed Soda’s name until his throat was raw. Then he screamed again, and again, the sound tearing through the quiet woods. The echoes came back hollow. No one answered.

“SODA! SODAAAAAA!”

Pony tremored. He didn’t want to be stuck out here when night fell. With his brothers, he had been safe. Mountain lions stayed away from groups of people.

But people alone? No. They didn’t.

As he cried, he scanned his surroundings. He could build a lean-to if worst came to worst. He wouldn’t be completely exposed out there. He could spend the night and hope he’d have better luck finding his way tomorrow. But the thought scared him to pieces.

Once the sun was set (as much as he could tell), he’d set to work with the day’s remaining light. That’s what he would have to do. He had to be smart. He had to use his head.

More tears ran down his face. He never used his head. That was why he’d ended up in this situation in the first place. Sure, getting lost was easy, but as was remembering which way you’d come, right? Soda or Darry wouldn’t have been this stupid. They should never have trusted him with this. And he’d been so confident, too. He was embarrassed, on top of terrified.

“SODAPOP!”

He was breathing hard then, clutching his chest. What if he never found his way back? What if he never saw them again?

He doubled over and sobbed hard. How could this happen? He didn’t even get to turn fifteen yet. What had he been thinking, coming out here alone?

You were thinking about your brother, that’s what you were thinking.

He sniffled. That’s right. He had been thinking about Darry. He would do anything for Darry. Even get lost in the woods for the rest of his life, if that helped. But that wouldn’t help. He was lost for nothing. He’d accomplished less than nothing today. He was putting Soda in danger now, too.

The world got darker. More and more dread filled Pony’s stomach. He needed to take shelter. But was it really too late? That was his last resort. Maybe there was still hope.

It had been a long time since Pony had gone to church. He used to go all the time with Johnny up until his brother and the guys came and had their whole “hymnal incident.” Pony hadn’t brought himself to go back, now that Johnny was gone. He didn’t want to go alone. But he supposed God would still hear him anyway now. He needed help. God could help people like this, couldn't he?

“Help me,” Pony whispered. “I don’t know what to do. I need help. Keep Darry safe. Don’t let him die. I need him. And let Soda find me. Keep him safe, too. Please. We just want to go home. At least… my voice will give out if I scream much longer. Don’t let it break. Let me be able to call for him until he comes. Please. Amen.”

He took another deep breath. “SODA!” Listened. Heard nothing. And still, he kept at it. He wasn’t giving up.

Chapter Text

“It’s been too long,” Soda whispered. He had been keeping a close eye on the sky all day. Even though clouds covered the sun, he could still tell where it was, and he had a watch. Pony was late.

But Darry was doing worse. As the hours passed, Soda watched the skin around Darry’s broken bone grow swollen and mottled. He had no doubt it was the beginning of an infection, and Darry’s fever had not gone down.

Darry looked up at him. “Go find him.”

“I—I don’t want to leave you.” But he knew he would go, no matter what.

“You have to,” Darry said, his voice strained, expression pulled in deep worry. “Soda, if he’s lost, or hurt, he’s scared to death right now. He needs you. Bring him back, quickly. Take the flashlight.”

Soda looked around. Their exposed camp was okay when it was all three of them, or even two, but he didn’t want to leave Darry here alone if night fell. At least, not all the way out in the open. “Hang on.”

He pulled over the biggest branches he could find, propping them up against the stone wall, draping large leaves and brush overhead, creating a hidden little alcove, just a couple feet beyond where Darry was already lying. Not too far to drag him, just close enough to the fire for him to still feel its warmth without the threat of it catching the branches.

He dragged Darry under it, trying his best to block out Darry’s pained protests. Once it was done, he crouched to Darry’s side again. “I’m going now. I’ll be back as quickly as I can. With him. We ain’t leaving you, okay?”

Darry nodded. Soda didn’t miss the fear that pinched his face.

Soda brushed Darry’s hair back one more time. “Okay. I’ll find him. I’ll be back so soon, you hear me? Hang on, Superman. I love you.”

“Love you,” he echoed weakly.

Soda checked the fire, deeming that it shouldn’t go out before he was back, then set off.

Soda didn’t know how far Pony might’ve gotten, but it had been a few hours, so Soda set his pace quicker than walking. That meant he really had to watch his step and take more frequent breaks, but this was the only way he was going to cover enough ground in time. He was glad Darry had had them pack a gallon of water apiece. If they ran out, natural water might be safe, but he didn’t think they’d be desperate enough to find out for another day or so. “PONYBOY!”

He found a stream and followed it, praying it had been the way Pony had gone, just as Darry had instructed him. If he was lost, they probably meant he’d strayed a bit, but Pony was smart enough to not go too far from the water and to stay put if he got lost, just as Soda had told him. Every minute, he screamed Pony’s name. Sometimes more than that.

After an hour of calling, the sun just about set, Sodapop felt like breaking down. His voice was aching and rough. Pony was gone. He was gone. He’d never find him again. This wilderness was too large. His brother might be lost forever.

The thought was so visceral that it brought him to his knees. He breathed deeply, trying to keep his composure. “Mom. Dad. Please, please, I need help. He’s your baby. I can’t lose him. Please, help me.”

He pulled himself together, pushing on. “PONY!”

Just as he was realizing he might need the flashlight, he heard something. A shout? His name?

“Pony?!” he called out again, staying still to listen, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Here!” he heard in response, faintly. “I’m here!” Soda nearly collapsed in relief. He rushed toward the sound, leaving the stream, taking note of what direction it was, charging through the trees, following his brother’s voice. “Soda! I’m here!”

Soda bounded between a pair of trees, his eyes streaming and chest heaving.

The second his eyes landed on Pony, his knees nearly gave. “Ponyboy,” he gasped, stumbling forward. He pulled Pony into his arms, hauling him into a crushing embrace. “I thought—I thought you were gone,” Soda choked, his whole body trembling as he clung to Pony like he’d never let go. “I been callin’ and callin’, I thought I lost you, I thought you were gone forever—” his words broke into sobs.

Pony cried, too, clutching fistfuls of Soda’s shirt. “I tried, Soda. I screamed. I screamed so much. I thought you’d never find me.” His voice was a wreck, barely a whisper.

Soda pressed his face into Pony’s hair, bawling openly then. “Glory, kid—don’t you ever do that to me again. Don’t you ever.” Pony felt Soda’s tears as he rocked them back and forth.

For a few minutes, they just held onto each other, crying into each other’s shoulders. And Soda knew it was the accumulation of more than just being lost. It was about Darry, too. It was everything piled on top of everything. But for a moment, Soda had him. Pony had been found. That was enough.

“How’s Darry?” Pony choked out.

Soda pulled back, taking a gasping breath. “He’s—He’s not good, honey. We have to get back.”

“It’s dark.” Pony’s chin quivered.

Soda squeezed his hand. “I know the way back. And I brought the flashlight. It’s okay now. You’re safe.”

“I’m so sorry.” More tears spilled down Pony’s cheeks. Soda drew him into another hug.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, shh, shh, shh. You did everything right. You did exactly what I told you. That’s how I found you again. You’re okay, it’s all right.”

Pony had a near death-grip on Soda’s arm all the way back. It took a bit longer in the dark, but Soda located the stream again and took them all the way back to where he’d left Darry. The fire was still burning, albeit low. Soda called out to announce their arrival.

Darry must’ve been severely anxious, because he dragged himself out of the small structure Soda had crafted for him just enough to see them. Relief flooded his face the moment his eyes landed on Pony.

Things weren’t better. If anything, they were getting worse. But the three of them were together again. If that was all they could accomplish tonight, for Soda, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Relief filled Darry the moment he saw Ponyboy. He reached out, and Pony sat beside him. Darry folded him into his arms. “Oh, thank God, Ponyboy.” After a minute, he pulled back, looking Pony over. “Are you hurt?”

Pony shook his head. “I just got lost. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay, you’re here now.”

Darry had been in and out of it for hours. When Soda had been there, he’d felt allowed to rest, to give in to how sick and in pain and hazy he felt. But when he’d been left alone, his body was tense with fear, wondering if they’d come back—wondering if Pony would.

Not that they’d ever leave him intentionally. He knew that. But so much could go wrong out there. And no matter where his brothers were, he always worried for them.

His leg ached awfully. The pain wasn’t as sharp as it had been when he’d first broken it, but it was still agony. The fever clouding his head and sending shivers through his body was not helping.

It was Sunday night. They were supposed to be back now. He hoped more than anything that Steve or Two-Bit were visiting their house to welcome them back, but that would only be if they were very lucky. And luck never seemed to be on the Curtises’ side. At least by tomorrow morning, his coworkers and Soda’s would know something was wrong. Steve would take action immediately, Darry had that much to rely on.

“Can we get you anything?” Soda asked.

Darry didn’t even know why his brother asked. Darry’s water and the last of his food was in reach. What else did they have to offer? Nothing. But at least they were there. Darry was damn grateful for that. “Could you build up the fire more?” he thought to ask. He was so cold, shivering constantly.

Soda nodded, getting to work. Pony lay beside Darry, wrapping an arm around his waist, warm at his back. His face rested at the back of Darry’s neck, and Darry felt his soft breaths, in and out, in and out.

Glory, how he’d prayed for these kids’ safety when they were gone and he was maddeningly awake, lost in a dizziness of sick consciousness. He didn’t know if it would help anything, but he’d never been so helpless before. There was nothing he could do but remain still and think.

But they were back. Unharmed. Darry was left to his haze of sickness and pain again, Pony against his back, Soda brushing his fingers through his hair and whispering useless comforts. If he closed his eyes and didn’t think hard enough, he could almost imagine it was his parents with him, like the time he’d stayed home with the stomach bug for three days, or that time he’d fallen from a tree and broken his collarbone. He wanted to feel like a little boy again, to be taken care of, to be healed, to be home.

As he considered that more, he realized that as much as he ached for the warmth of his bed or the careful, healing hands of a doctor or nurse, that wasn’t really home.

Home was his boys. And they were back. Safe. Here with him. As long as they were here, he was home. Even if he died. Even if help didn’t arrive in time for him. At least he would die at home.

He didn’t want to put them through that. But he had faith that they’d survive it. As long as they had each other. They could get through anything.

It was another long, restless, chilly night. He’d had awful dreams that he couldn’t recall. He must’ve woken his brothers, because he vaguely remembered someone’s hand on his head, someone talking softly to him.

He woke to Sodapop and Ponyboy talking in hushed tones, casting glances his way. As he stirred, deep pain clutched his leg, and he gasped. His brothers’ heads whipped over, and they scrambled to his side.

“Are you all right?” Soda exclaimed, hands hovering. His gaze flicked to the wound, and he grimaced. It was oozing pus and starting to take on a rotting smell. “Stupid question. Sorry.”

“Um, Darry?” Ponyboy said uncertainly. “Soda and I have been talking, and… I think you’re dying, okay? Your leg is infected, and your fever hasn’t broken. We—We can’t wait any longer.”

“You’re not… going out again?” Darry asked, unsure if he could bear that anxiety a second time. But he knew it had to be done.

“Uh…” Pony exchanged a glance with Soda, and Darry grew even more uneasy. “There's nothin’ we can do for you here. I think together, we’ll have a better chance of finding something.”

“What are… you saying?”

Soda’s eyes were full of tears. “We’re leaving, Darry. We’re getting you help. We ain’t comin’ back until we find help.”

“What?” No, they couldn’t. They couldn’t leave him. Darry’s breathing grew quick and labored.

Soda gripped hold of him. “We saw yesterday how easily someone can get lost. And—And yesterday could’ve gone so much worse. If we’re together, we can help each other. A lot less can go wrong. I wouldn’t leave you if I really thought staying would help you. But I don’t think it will make a difference.”

Darry saw the logic. Really, he did. But that didn’t make the idea of being alone any less terrifying. He needed Soda. He needed him. Soda staying would help him. It would. “Please.” His begging was practically a whimper.

Soda had a look on his face like someone had removed his heart. “I—Darry… Dar, you’re sick, you ain’t thinkin’ straight. You know we’re right. You know it. I—I—” He buried his face in his hands. “Fuck!” His voice broke. When he took his hands away, his eyes were streaming. “It kills me to leave you like this. It kills me, honey. But we have to. I can’t—I can’t sit here and watch you die. Not when I could’ve done somethin’.”

Darry didn’t know if it was the sickness, the pain, the fear for himself, the fear for them, or everything else on top of it that made him say what he told them next, but it was all he could do: “I’m scared.”

Soda’s face crumpled, as did Ponyboy’s.

“I know,” Pony whispered. “We are, too.”

“We ain’t leavin’ for good, Dar,” Soda swore. “We are comin’ back with help. We are. Steve and Two would have called the rangers by this point, too. There are people lookin’ for us now. I promise, we’re comin’ back for you.”

It was an empty promise. Darry knew that, his brothers knew that. But if they didn’t believe that, they would fully break. Because if they didn’t believe that, that outcome meant Soda and Pony would be dead out there somewhere, too. Or that they’d find help, but much too late.

So, he’d choose to believe Sodapop’s promise. Darry felt broken enough already. He couldn’t lose the last shred of hope they had left.

Chapter Text

Soda packed up their stuff and made sure Darry had the rest of his water and plenty of firewood and matches within reach. He checked Darry’s leg, which they had taken the tourniquet off of once the blood clotted, then wrapped safely in a strip from Soda’s shirt. He made sure everything was secure and in place, as comfortable as possible for Darry. Finally, it was time to go, he sat back next to his big brother.

“Darry, I…” Soda’s voice choked up. He pressed his forehead against Darry’s, sighing deeply. “I need you to stay alive, okay? I need you.” He shifted and moved Darry’s head against his chest, holding him like that for a couple of minutes, just focusing on the weight of him in his arms, knowing this might be the very last time.

When Soda finally let go, Darry looked at them both. “Keep each other safe.” His eyes held a severity to them, more than just the fever brightness. “I need you safe more than I need to get out of here. Do you understand?”

Soda trembled. He felt the same about his own brothers; he would die to keep them alive, but it still scared him to know how much Darry valued their lives over his. “More than you know. But you have to promise me you will do everything—everything—in your power to stay alive. For us. For you, too, but if that isn’t enough, for us, Dar.”

Darry’s gaze softened. “Hey. If—If anything happens to me, Two and Mrs. Mathews will take care of you. I—I didn’t want you to know, but I do have a will. And they agreed to be your guardians if anything ever happened to me. You don’t have to worry about goin’ to no homes.”

“Are you fuckin’ serious right now?” Soda asked, appalled.

Darry’s expression shifted to confusion. “I thought—I thought you’d be okay with that.”

“I—” Soda let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “This isn’t about that! I don’t care about that!” Tears filled his eyes and spilled over. “We love you, Darry. Not the concept of you, not the home or care you give us, as wonderful as those things are. I love you, Darry. I need you. I love the person you are, completely. There is no one who could ever replace you, and that’s why we need you to survive.”

“Dammit,” Darry cried, hiding his face behind his hand. “God knows how much I love you both.”

Pony wrapped himself around Darry’s shoulders, breathing deeply. “You have to hang on, okay? You’re twenty-one. That’s it. It ain’t your time yet. We need you here.” He burrowed closer, pressing his face in Darry’s hair, his breath hitching. “There’s all this stuff you need to stick around for. We’re gonna have me a big birthday party in a few weeks, kay? Then, soon, you’re gonna teach me how to drive, because God knows Soda ain’t any good at it.”

“Hey!” Soda yelped playfully.

Ponyboy ignored him. “And—And I’m gonna have dumb crushes, and someone’s gonna break my heart, and I’m gonna apply for college, and I’m gonna publish my book, and I’m gonna graduate, and I can’t do any of that without you around.” His voice wobbled. “I love you, too, you hear me? I love you, so you ain’t allowed to go.”

Darry gave a wet chuckle, a few tears falling, and held him close. “Okay.”

The three looked at each other, no one wanting to make the first move to leave.

“I—” Soda stammered, swiping a hand under his nose. “We should go.” He gently pressed his hand to the side of Darry’s feverish face, kissing his temple like Mama or Daddy would have done. “Bye, Dar.” His voice broke.

“Wait!” Pony cried. He carefully wrapped his arms around Darry’s waist, cautious of the leg wound, and buried his face in Darry’s chest. “I love you,” he said again. “Don’t die. Please, don’t die. I love you. We’ll be back. We’ll be back.”

Soda looked away, hardly able to stand it. They couldn’t lose someone else. It couldn’t be Mom and Dad and Johnny and Dally again. They couldn’t take it. He didn’t think he or Pony would survive that again.

Darry put his hand on Pony’s head, closing his eyes like he was in deep pain–beyond the physical kind. “I know. Love you. Thank you, baby. Take care of your brother, Little Colt.”

Soda didn’t have the heart to think about if he just meant over this next day or so or forever. Darry probably didn’t even know that. Soda let it be, knowing he might back out of this plan if they stayed any longer. “Ponyboy. We have to go.”

Ponyboy sniffled and let go, pushing himself to his feet and going to Soda’s side. He nodded miserably. Soda cast one last look at his beloved brother, sick and broken and dying. I love you, Soda mouthed, one last time.

Darry nodded, heartache shining in his eyes. You, too, Pepsi-Cola.

Sodapop turned away with a stifled sob. He had to use that nickname now, huh? It almost felt like a bad omen. That was Dad’s nickname for him. He couldn’t lose him and Darry both. He took a shuddering breath, steeling himself. He’d walk away strong. Darry didn’t need to see any more of his tears.

They only walked in silence for about five minutes when Pony’s steps came to a halt. Soda looked back at Ponyboy’s stricken face. “You all right?”

“Is this the right decision? We—We just left him there! Did you see the look on his face?”

“Stop. Stop that now,” Sodapop said, feeling sick himself. “Unless someone miraculously appears out of thin air to rescue us, this is the only way to save his life. This is to save his life, Pony. You know that.”

Pony cast an uncertain glance over his shoulder. “I—I know.”

“I know that doesn’t make it hurt any less,” Soda said, his voice cracking. “I know. But we’re gonna walk as long as it takes, and we’re gonna find help. He ain’t gonna die; not on my watch.”

Pony closed his eyes, took a deep breath through his nose, steeled his shoulders, and nodded. And forward they went.

Chapter Text

They walked all day, and their water was running dangerously low.

“Be careful with that,” Soda said. “I—If we get desperate enough, we’ll find something else to drink, but I don’t want to take that risk.”

Ponyboy shuddered. “Me, neither.”

“Shit, don’t you think we would’ve found something by now? It’s not like this can go on forever, right?” Soda’s tone was tight and worried. “There have to be people somewhere.”

Pony didn’t have an answer. They kept walking.

In a stroke of luck, they came across a few blackberry bushes, much to their relief. Hydration and sustenance. They’d hardly eaten in days. Pony ate, but not without a rush of guilt as he realized Darry didn’t get to indulge with them. He prayed Darry was still hanging on.

As the sun crept lower in the sky, a rattling sound pierced the air. Pony froze mid-step, his heart leaping into his throat.

“Pony,” Soda hissed, carefully gripping his arm and slowly positioning himself just in front of Ponyboy. In terror, they stared at the snake, not five feet in front of them. They took a few, very slow steps back. Pony closed his eyes, burying his face into Soda’s shoulder, praying silently. The rattle echoed in his ears.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Soda whispered. Pony could feel him shaking. Then, the rattle stopped. He felt Sodapop relax. “It’s leaving. It’s leaving, Pony. Thank God, thank God.” Despite that, they both held still for another few minutes before feeling safe to move again.

As night crept closer and closer, dread coursed through Pony. He felt safer with Soda, knew that even two people were safer against wild animals than one, but Pony had heard horror stories of mountain lions pursuing several hikers. He didn’t want to become a statistic.

“We need to stop,” Pony decided for them as sunset colored the sky.

Soda shook his head. “No. No, we have to keep going.”

“Look at yourself. Your legs are shaking. You can’t keep going. We need to rest. C’mon, we’ll build a lean-to and hunker down for the night.”

Exhausted, Soda gave in.

They didn’t put in the effort of building a fire. Both boys were so exhausted that they could do little more than build their makeshift shelter before curling up together inside, desperate for each other’s warmth as cool air replaced the day’s heat. If Pony closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he and Soda were just in bed at home.

“Soda?” Pony whispered.

Soda’s arms wound tighter around him. “Mm?”

“Do you think we’re goin’ to die out here?” They hadn’t found a trail in days, and they were in a nearly 3,000 square mile park.

Soda went still. Pony could feel him breathing—fast, ragged, like he’d been hit. For a long time, he didn’t say anything. He cleared his throat roughly. “Don’t say that. We ain’t gonna die.”

Pony turned his head, trying to see Soda’s face in the dark. He was staring forward, jaw tight, eyes shining. Pony knew him too well. He was lying, or at least halfway lying.

“We didn’t find anybody today. Not even a trail.”

Soda pulled him closer, resting his chin on top of Pony’s head. “It just wasn’t today, that’s all. Tomorrow, maybe. We’ll hit a road, or a camp, or a trail. But we ain’t givin’ up, you hear? We can’t. Darry’s waitin’.”

Pony buried his face in Sodapop’s shirt, tears stinging his eyes. “You think so? We’ll really find somethin’?”

For a moment, Pony thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he whispered, “Yeah. I think so.”

But his chest was shaking under Pony’s cheek, and he felt the wet drop of a tear hit his hair. Pony knew Soda didn’t believe that any more than he did.

Pony’s entire body ached awfully the next morning, but he and Soda got up and pushed onward. They couldn’t waste any time they didn’t need.

The creek had started as a narrow trickle, but the farther Pony and Soda followed, the louder and wider it became. Branches snapped underfoot, mud sliding from their boots as the water churned and foamed beside them. Somewhere upstream, another stream joined in, doubling the volume, the current now strong enough to rip a boot from an ankle if they weren’t careful.

Pony’s heart thudded. The banks narrowed, forcing them closer and closer to the edge. Soon there wasn’t even a muddy strip to walk on. On one side, the water roared; on the other, a sheer cliff wall rose above them.

They stopped. Pony pressed himself against the rock, chest tight. The creek had turned into a full-on ravine again, its walls steep, water raging between them like a living thing. Any misstep now, and they’d be swept away in seconds.

Soda crouched beside him, eyes scanning the cliff above. “If we wanna keep following this, we gotta climb,” he said quietly, voice strained but steady. “There’s a narrow strip hugging the wall there. We could walk it. There’s no other way to move forward and keep the water in sight.”

Pony swallowed hard, stomach twisting. He knew Soda was right. If they went back, they’d lose the creek and probably get even more lost. The thought of leaving it behind was unthinkable—they had to stay on its trail if they wanted to find a way out.
Every instinct screamed at Pony to stop, to run, to turn away, but he forced his feet to stay planted. The cliff loomed over them, wet and unforgiving. Hugging it was the only path forward. One wrong step now could mean the end.

He glanced at Soda, sweat streaking his face. They were both pale, trembling, and terrified—but neither would speak the thought that ran through both their minds: this might be worse than the fall that had started it all.

And yet, despite every nerve screaming to retreat, Pony forced himself to take the first careful step up the cliff, right behind Soda, knowing they had no other choice.

Chapter Text

The moment his brothers were out of sight, Darry wept. He curled up on his side, dread and fear and pain and grief coursing through him.

They’d left him. They’d left him.

Darry trembled. He couldn’t recall ever feeling so awful in his life. Consciousness was blurring into a feverish haze.

He wanted to die. He wanted to live. He wanted his brothers to come back. For Soda to come bounding back to his side, saying, “Just kidding! Got ya good, huh?” For Pony to lie down next to him again, saying, “We don’t have to go anymore. Help is coming. Someone knows where we are.”

Soda’s words kept echoing in his mind. About how much they loved him. Darry knew that, of course he knew that, but there had always been an inkling of a doubt in the back of his head: They love me, but more than that, they need me because they’re scared to death of being split up and put in homes. I can offer them more than love: I can give them a roof over their heads, food to eat, a safe place to live, a family.

But Soda had cast that all aside, crushed that idea. They needed him. They loved him. They didn’t care about that other stuff. Darry’s tears dripped onto the ground.

He slipped in and out of consciousness, shaking and shuddering. He woke once to a hand on his forehead. He jolted, expecting Sodapop, but when his eyes opened, the hazy figure of Dad was beside him.

Darry sobbed. It couldn’t be real. He knew it couldn’t be. But he didn’t care. He needed someone, and the person whom he’d loved more than anything and lost without warning was here again. “Daddy.”

“Hey, baby.” Dad stroked his hair, looking down at him with all the love in the world. “You’re really sick, kiddo.”

Darry hummed. “Are you… here to take me w—with you?” He was ready. He wasn’t. He was so confused. In so much misery. He just wanted it to end, one way or another. I’m sorry, Soda, he thought. I don’t know if I can do this.

“That ain’t for me to decide, little one.” Dad’s voice was thick, like he was trying not to cry.

“Dad, I can’t do it.”

Dad’s hand cupped the side of Darry’s face. “Yes, you can. They need you. You promised them, Darry. I know you’re a man of your word.”

A few more tears slipped. “I know.”

Dad sighed. “I want you to live for yourself, too, Darry. Not just them. Fight. Your life is worth fighting for. You’re gonna see those boys grow up, you’re gonna have a wife and family, you’re gonna help so many people in your life and grow old and die in bed. Not here. Not at twenty-one.” Dad’s hand moved to Darry’s shoulder and gripped it. “You’re strong, baby. And I love you more than the entire world. You can’t let go now. I want you alive, love. I won’t let you give up.”

“I’m scared,” Darry croaked. “They left me, Dad.”

“They left to get you help. They didn’t leave you. And I’m stayin’ right here.”

“Okay,” Darry whispered. “Dad?”

“Mmhm?”

“Are you proud? Am I… Am I doin’ everythin’ right?”

Dad’s face crumpled. “There ain’t no ‘right.’ Mom and I sure coulda done a lot more things ‘right,’ I think. But I know you’re doin’ so well. You love them like your own, and they could not possibly love you more, either, and that’s all I care about. I could not possibly be prouder of you, son.”

Darry sobbed, leaning into Dad’s touch. “I’m so exhausted.”

“Then rest. I’m right here.”

Darry closed his eyes again, trembling. All right, then. He was ready to fight.

The day wore on into night. Darry’s sobs came out again—fewer, drier, the kind that burn the throat. He murmured one last thing into the dark, both a benediction and an order for himself.

“Bring ‘em home,” he said, and then, quieter still, “I’ll be here.”

He closed his eyes and kept speaking the names under his breath: Soda. Pony. Soda. Pony. Each one anchoring him more.

Darry held onto the memory of his father’s steady hand and to a promise that had become the only light he had left. He would wait. He would not let go.

Chapter Text

Sodapop was twenty minutes late to work. He was known to be a few minutes late every once in a while, but rarely to this extent. If he was ever this late, he would call.

The Curtises were supposed to be back from their trip, right? Steve used the DX phone to call, but there was no response. He called Two-Bit’s place next.

“Mathews’.”

“Two, it’s Steve. The Curtises should be back from their camping trip, right?”

A pause. “Yeah, I thought so. Darry said they would be back by last night. What, is Sodapop not at work?”

“No. And no one’s picking up the phone at their place.”

“They’re probably on their way, then. Give it a few more minutes.”

“Soda’s never this late.”

“Okay. I’ll go over and check it out. Call me at their place if Soda doesn’t show up in fifteen minutes, k?”

“Sure. Thanks, Two.”

“Anytime, Steve-man. Talk to ya soon.”

Steve helped a few customers, but his thoughts remained anxiously on the silent phone. Something felt wrong. He didn’t like the growing pit in his stomach.

When the phone finally rang, Steve leaped for it, heart flying into his throat. “DX station. This is Steve.”

“It’s Two-Bit.”

Steve’s hopes sank. “No one’s there?”

“Yeah. Soda never showed up?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

“What do we do?”

“I dunno, man. I’ll call the park they went to, I guess? Can you get off?”

“I—I don’t know. I’d have to call two people in, since Soda’s not here. But there are a couple of boys who like to pick up extra shifts, so it shouldn’t be too hard.” Steve swallowed hard. “You don’t think anything’s wrong, do you?”

Two-Bit didn’t answer at first. “I mean… they coulda extended their trip, I guess.”

“But they would’ve found a payphone to call off work. We got no communication from Soda about that. He’s spastic, but he’s always on top of those things, because he knows how important their income is.”

“You’re right, you’re right. Okay, well, get over here as soon as you can. I’ll make some calls.”

To Steve’s relief, there were a couple of guys available to come in, and he rushed over to the Curtises’ house as quickly as he could.

He found Two-Bit at the table, an unusual, deep frown on his face as he pored over the yellow pages.

“What happened?” Steve asked, his voice tight.

“Made some calls. No one knows anything,” Two said. “And I’m trying to find a number for the park.” His eyes met Steve’s, and they shone with fear. “Steve, I think something might really be wrong.”

Steve felt the same way, sick to his stomach. He collapsed into a chair, burying his head into his hands. “Shit. We should’ve come by last night. Then we would’ve known earlier. Called for help quicker. What if they’re hurt?”

“We couldn’t have known,” said Two-Bit in a low tone. “Don’t even go there, man.” He ran a hand over his face. “We gotta think. Figure this out.”

Something is very wrong, Steve thought. Something is happening to your friends. To Soda.

“Here!” Two-Bit’s finger landed on a number, and Steve dashed for the phone, having Two-Bit rattle the number off.

Steve quickly spoke to the operator, then waited for someone at the ranger station to pick up. “Ouachita National Forest Ranger’s Office. This is Ranger Baker.”

“Hi, my name is Steve Randle. I’m reporting a missing family. They went camping a few days ago but were due back last night.”

“Okay. Can you tell me their names?”

“Darrel Curtis, Sodapop Curtis, and Ponyboy Curtis.” He rattled off their ages and descriptions, as well as a description of their truck. “They’re punctual people, never missed a day of work or school if they could ever help it. You need to send someone to find them now. They’re not just out late, they’re—” He swallowed hard. “They’re our family. Please, can you do something?”

“Of course, sir. We’ll locate their campsite and go from there. Any idea where in the park they might’ve set out for.”

“No,” Steve said softly. The Curtises had never been before. They wouldn’t have anything to tell Steve ahead of time. “I’m sure they went hiking or something, though. They like that kind of thing.”

The ranger promised a team would mobilize immediately, and they’d call back whenever they had news. Steve gave them both his home phone, Two’s, and the Curtises’. Steve then hung up, breathing hard, his hands shaking.

Two-Bit leaned heavily on the table, muttering, “Oh, God, don’t let us be too late.”

Steve put a hand on his shoulder. “Someone’s out looking now. They’ll find them. We just… we wait now.”

Both of them sat in silence, the weight of fear pressing down. It wasn’t just this—it was the whole year they’d survived, the friends they’d already lost. Now, almost their whole gang left was out there, in danger, and they were helpless to do more than wait and hope.

Two pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, rocking slightly. “I can’t… we’re down to just us if we lose them. Just… us.”

Steve dropped his head to the table, his eyes stinging with fear. “I know. I know.” Their best friends—Soda and Darry—and Ponyboy, that kid who was a invaluable little brother to all of them, blood or not.

Two-Bit whispered, voice trembling, “I don’t want to live in a world without them, Steve. Not without them, too. I just… I can’t.”

“They’re out there,” Steve said firmly, trying to convince himself, too. But the worst-case scenarios filled his head anyway. Flash flood. Bear. Rattlesnake. Broken ankle. Landslide. Fire. Storm. Illness. Car crash. Death. “Are we overthinking this? Is there anything we aren’t thinking of? What if—What if they’re not in the park at all? There could’ve been an accident on the way home.”

“I don’t know,” Two-Bit whispered miserably. “Oh, Dar,” he mumbled, face in his hands.

Maybe they should go. Drive down there themselves. He knew it sounded stupid, that if the professionals couldn’t find their friends, no one could. But if they didn’t hear anything by the end of the day, Steve knew they had to take further action of some sort. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight.

“C’mon, Soda,” he whispered, frantically tapping his foot, waiting for the phone to ring again.

Chapter Text

Pony edged along the narrow ledge, pressing his back to the damp cliff wall. The creek roared below, swollen and angry, filling the ravine with a noise that rattled his ribs. Every step was measured, each footfall a prayer. Mud clung to his boots, roots and stones threatening to betray him at any second.

Soda was ahead, moving slowly, hand brushing the rock for balance. Pony’s stomach twisted every time he looked down. The water churned, brown and violent, like it wanted to swallow them whole. He forced himself to look forward, toward the tiny patch of ledge that curved around the cliff. The memory of drowning lodged firmly in his mind.

Then the mud under Pony’s left foot slid. He flailed, trying to grab a root, but the rock was slick, the grip useless. He felt his body tilt sideways, feet scraping for purchase that wasn’t there. His heart slammed in his chest.

“NO!” Soda’s voice shattered the roar of the river. He lunged, fingers curling around Pony’s wrist just as Pony’s feet slid from the ledge.

Pony’s other arm windmilled, hand clawing at air. His feet scrambled on the slippery rock, not finding purchase. The current of panic hit him, and the cliff seemed to yawn below, waiting to engulf him. The water bubbled below, threatening to pull him under. “SODA!”

“I got you! I’ve got you!” Soda’s words were ragged, raw with fear. He strained, hauling Pony back onto the narrow ledge.

Pony’s knees buckled as he collapsed against the cliff wall, chest heaving. He pressed his forehead into the rock, trying to steady his shaking. A frightened sob burst out of him.

Soda dropped beside him, gripping his shoulders. “Thought I lost you,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I… fuck, I can’t… we have to keep going. It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay.”

Pony swallowed, tears stinging his eyes. The waters still roared below, merciless, but for a moment, all he could feel was Soda holding him up, keeping him from falling into the violent water—and the weight of Darry waiting, sick and broken, pressing at the back of his mind.

They stayed pressed together for a long moment, chests heaving, hands gripping one another like the world would crumble if they let go. Pony could feel every tremor in Soda’s arm, every shudder of fear that he tried to hide behind gritted teeth.

“Ready?” Soda whispered finally, voice barely audible over the creek’s roar. Pony nodded, though his stomach felt like it was full of stones.

They edged forward, bodies practically touching, hands on each other for balance. When one slipped a little, the other leaned into them, anchoring them with every ounce of strength they had.

The cliff wall scraped against their shoulders, wet and sharp, leaving streaks of blood and mud. Pony’s palms were raw from clutching Soda’s arm, his legs trembling so badly he thought they might collapse under him. Every step was a gamble, every movement a prayer.

“Pony, stop that. Don’t look down,” Soda muttered. “Just… just keep moving.”

Pony’s eyes darted involuntarily to the torrent below. The water surged, foaming, brown and wild, like it wanted them gone. Panic clawed at his chest, but Soda’s hand squeezed his, holding him together in a way nothing else could.

Every nerve screamed that a single mistake could mean the end, but neither Pony nor Soda let themselves think about that. They only thought of Darry, waiting somewhere back in the forest, and of the promise they had made to keep going until they found him help, no matter what.

By the time the ledge widened enough to step on fully solid ground, both of them were shaking, soaked, and covered in mud, but alive. Pony collapsed against Soda, burying his face in his shoulder, and Soda held him tight, letting out a long, shuddering breath.

“Made it,” Soda whispered, though neither of them fully believed it yet. The creek still roared, the cliffs still loomed, and every step forward was still a risk—but for now, they’d survived.

After what felt like hours clinging to the cliffside, the forest crept back in around them. Pine and oak replaced the sheer rock wall, and Pony felt his stomach ease slightly as the ground beneath his boots started to feel more solid.

They kept the swollen river in sight below, following its roar as it wound through the trees. The current slowed, spreading out, and the steep cliffs gradually softened into gentle slopes. Pony could feel the tension leaving his shoulders, though his muscles ached from gripping Soda and the cliff wall for so long.

Ponyboy was so hungry. The berries from yesterday had only done so much. He didn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t get something to eat soon.

The water eventually leveled out into a wide, calm lake. Its surface reflected the gray sky, rippling gently from the inflow of the river. Pony stared, heart still hammering, but a flicker of relief lit his chest. They were out of immediate danger.

Then, across the bank, not far from the water, Pony’s eyes widened. There was a cabin.

Soda’s eyes caught it, too. He whispered, voice shaking but steady with hope, “You see it? You see it, too?”

Pony nodded, letting himself breathe fully for the first time in days. The creek had led them here, carrying them through every near-fall, every impossible step. And now, maybe, just maybe, they could find help for Darry.

Every step forward felt lighter than the last. Ahead, the smell of smoke and cooked food told them they weren’t just lucky—they were about to be saved.

Pony quickened his pace, pulling Soda along. “Help! Help us!” he hollered, and Soda raised his voice to join. Their voices were desperate and cracking but loud enough to pull the cabin's residents out.

Two men dashed out the front of the cabin, followed by two women.

“Oh, Lord!” one of the men cried out, rushing forward. He looked back at his companions. “It’s the lost boys! The ones the rangers were broadcasting about!”

Soda fell to his knees, weeping. Pony stumbled toward the man. “Help,” he croaked. “We need help. Please!”

“Isla!” The man called back behind himself. “Boil water for a bath. Now!” He reached Pony, looking him over in shock. Pony knew he must look like a wreck. He knew it was probably innappropriate—impolite, at the very least—but he reached out for the stranger and grabbed onto his arms.

He couldn’t even get the words out before the man said exactly what he was thinking. “Aren’t there three of you?”

Pony let out a distressed sob. “Our brother! Please! Please, he needs help.”

The man turned to his companion. “We’ll get the radios ready. Help me with the other boy.”

He and Soda were practically dragged inside. The cabin was modest. It looked like a hunting cabin, but well lived-in, like these people lived here for most of the year, at least.

The women immediately started fussing over Pony and Soda, and the men got to work with the radios.

Soda hadn’t stopped weeping, his face pressed into the crook of Pony’s neck. Ponyboy just stared ahead, dazed. They were saved. But Darry was still out there. It wasn’t close to over.

It didn’t take too long for rangers to arrive in Jeeps. They spread maps on the cabin table. Soda sat on a bench by the stove, slumped so far over he looked like he might slide onto the floor. One of the hunters’ wives had pressed a mug of broth into his hands, but he just stared into it, eyes glassy. He was too far gone to speak, let alone argue.

Pony stood over the table, planting both palms on the map, having already devoured his broth. “We started here,” he said, locating the trail and tracing the line until coming to a bend. “It should be about here where the landslide happened. We fell down into the ravine.

The younger ranger, dark-haired and serious, bent closer. “Sounds about right. There were several landslides this weekend. There were several located around this area, but we had no idea there was anyone on those sections of the trail.”

Pony nodded. “Darry broke his femur in the fall. We didn’t drag him far. Couldn’t, really. Maybe fifty feet from the slide. There’s this rocky overhang. We—” His voice caught. “We left him under there.”

The ranger marked where Pony pointed with a cross, frowning. “That ravine’s deep. Rough country. It will take a bit to locate a way down safely, but once we do so, we’ll locate an open space for a helicopter landing to get your brother out. You’re certain this was the spot?”

“Not certain, but pretty sure. If—If I’m wrong, we’ll still be close. I can lead you to him. I’ll know the area when I see it.”

The ranger started to shake his head. “Kid, you’re barely on your feet. You and your brother need medical attention. Your directions are good enough that—”

“You don’t understand,” Pony said, desperation creeping into his voice. “He’s not… he’s not gonna be himself. He’ll be delirious. He’s burning up and scared out of his head. He might fight you if strangers try to move him. If I’m there, I can keep him still. He knows me. He needs me.” His throat clogged. “He’s my brother. You don’t get it, he begged us not to leave. I need to get back to him as soon as possible.”

Soda stirred faintly by the stove. His lips moved like he wanted to argue, but no sound came out. His eyes found Pony’s, wet and pleading.

The rangers traded a long look. Finally, the younger one sighed. “All right. You come with us. But you do what we say, every step of the way. Understood?”

Ponyboy nodded hard. He glanced back at Soda, whose head sagged against the wall, tears streaking his dirty face. The rangers were already folding maps and calling orders.

“I—” Soda tried to stand, but his legs collapsed underneath him. “No. No!”

“Hey, hey.” Pony gripped Soda’s shoulder. “Sodes, it’s okay. I’ll go. They only need one of us.”

“You ain’t…? How are you still standing?”

Pony smiled wearily. “I run. Who knew cross-country training might save our lives, huh?”

Sodapop reached forward and hugged Pony around the waist. “Bring him home,” he said, his voice muffled.

Pony hugged him back. “I will. Three of us. Always.” He pulled back. “I’ll see you soon.”

Then, he headed out with the rangers.

Chapter Text

Soda was so angry with Ponyboy. He’d needed to go with them. Or maybe he was angry with his own stupid legs. How he just didn’t have the energy to stand any longer. What use was his stupid body if he couldn’t get back to Darry?

“We’ve drawn a bath for you,” the blonde woman said. “It might be best to wash up first before we start treating your cuts, all right?”

Soda didn’t answer. He held his jaw tight.

“Honey,” the brunette said. “You haven’t touched your food. I’m sure you haven’t eaten all day. You’re shaking. You need something.”

“What’s his name?” the blonde asked her friend softly.

“Sodapop. Radio broadcast said he’s seventeen.”

“Oh,” the blonde said softly. “You’re only a child, aren’t you?”

In any other circumstance, Soda would’ve protested. No, he was almost eighteen. But he’d never felt younger and more helpless than he did now. His face crumpled, and he burst into tears.

“Let it out, dear. You’re safe now.”

Sodapop didn’t care. Darry wasn’t safe yet.

“I’m sure you have family worried about you. We can contact them through the rangers. Do you have parents searching for you?”

Soda just bawled harder.

“I—” The poor woman seemed at a loss. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk. You just get it all out of your system, okay, baby?”

And that pet name! The tears kept streaming, and he took in big gulps of air. Lord, he didn’t know what he’d do if Darry wasn’t okay.

This woman clearly didn’t know what to do about his hysterics, but Soda was beyond caring.

“Okay, let’s get you all cleaned up, then the ranger will come get you, all right, hon?”

Panic surged through Soda with a sickening jolt. “Be—Before my brothers are back?”

“Yes, you need to go to the hospital. Or at the very least, the ranger station. Just to get checked out. Your brothers will be at the hospital soon, too.”

“No.” Soda’s voice quavered. “I can’t leave without them. I need to know they’re safe.”

“They're as safe as they can be. Your little brother’s with the rangers. They won’t let a thing happen to him, and they’ll find your big brother. That’s their job. Yours is just to recover.”

The women helped him strip to his underthings, finding dozens of cuts and bruises that he hadn’t even noticed on himself. Nothing looked too serious, though. Soda couldn’t believe he’d come out this unscathed after a fall like that.

The thought sent his mind rushing back to being buried, suffocating. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying not to think about it.

Steve. He wanted Steve.

“Do you—Do you have a phone?”

“Not out here, sweetheart. But there will be one at the ranger station. One of them will be by to pick you up, then you can call whoever you need.”

He washed up, and despite the tub and bathroom being so ramshackle, that hot bath was the best one of his life. After that, Sodapop let the women feed him and dress him in some extra clothes that were a bit too large for him, then went with the ranger who came to pick him up. He was checked over at the station, given plenty of water, and asked about any injuries. Soda couldn’t name anything. And finally, finally, they let him use the phone.

No answer at Steve’s place. Mikey picked up at the DX and said he didn’t know where Steve went. No one picked up at the Mathews house. Finally, on Soda’s last shot—his own house—he heard the voice he was looking for. “Hello?”

“Steve,” Soda sobbed into the receiver.

“Holy shit! Soda, is that you? Soda!”

“Yeah.” Soda sniffled. “Yeah, Stevie. Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Where are you? Are you all right? What the hell happened? Where ARE you?”

Soda hiccuped. “There was a bad accident. I—” He tried to say more, but the words caught in his throat. “Steve.”

“Soda, you’re scaring me. Oh, God, please, are your brothers okay?”

“I—I—”

“Soda!” Steve made a choked noise. There was a scuffling sound.

Two-Bit’s voice sounded. “Are they dead?! Sodapop!”

“No! No? I—Oh, you guys…”

“Sodapop, you need to fucking pull yourself together right fucking now.” Two’s voice was shaking. “I don’t mean to be harsh, we love you, man, but we’ve been losing our minds all fucking day. Tell us right now, are you okay, and where are your brothers?”

Soda drew in a deep, quivering breath. “I’m okay. I’m fine. I promise. I—I’m at the park ranger station. There was—an accident when we were hiking. Landslide. Darry broke his leg bad. We waited for help, but we couldn’t wait long. He’s—guys, he’s dying.” He sobbed. “Pony and I had to leave him for help. It took a couple days, but we’re safe now. But Pony—Pony’s gone with the rangers to rescue Darry. I—I haven’t seen Darry since yesterday morning, and—and he was doing so bad when we left him. All feverish and infected and his whole bone sticking out.” He dissolved into tears, unable to say any more.

Two-Bit was saying something, but Soda couldn’t even hear. Then, Steve’s voice was in his ear again. “Soda, we’re coming. We’re coming now. Where are they taking you?”

Soda asked the rangers, then told them the name of the nearest hospital. “I won’t be admitted,” Soda said. “But I’ll be waiting for Darry and Pony.”

“Okay. It’ll take us two and a half hours, but we’re coming. You hear? Hold on, man. It’s gonna be okay.” Steve let a sharp breath. “Glory, am I glad you’re safe.”

“I need to see you.” Soda felt like he could hardly breathe. “I need someone.”

“I know. I know, man. Two and I are coming now. Just hang on.”

Soda hung up the phone, literally aching to be with someone he knew again. Two and a half hours. He could hold on that long. He let the rangers drive him to the hospital.

Chapter Text

With every minute that passed as Ponyboy rode with the rangers, he felt sicker and sicker. Darry hadn’t been well at all when they’d left him, and it had been over a day. Pony couldn’t get the image of finding his dead body out of his mind.

He could see it now—Darry, pale and cold, leg broken and mottled, slack and sallow with death.

Had that been what identifying Mom and Dad had been like for Darry? Pony pressed a hand to his mouth as he wondered if he’d have to do the same with Darry.

“You all right, son?” one of the rangers, Calhoun, asked.

Ponyboy squirmed, his chest feeling tight. “Um… Do you think my brother’s dead? Like, when you do this kind of thing. Looking for and rescuing people. Uh, we’re not—is he—”

Calhoun put a hand on Pony’s shoulder. “Kid, your brother sounds resilient. He’s gone through one of the worst kinds of pain a person can experience. I don’t think we’re going to find a body, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Are you just sayin’ that?”

“Anythin’s possible. But if you’re this dedicated to him, I’m willing to bet he feels the same for you. From what I’ve seen in my years here, families push through a lot for each other in situations like these.”

“Okay,” Pony whispered, swallowing hard. “Okay.”

The jeep rattled and groaned over the backroad, tires sliding in the mud that the morning’s rain had left behind. Pony sat wedged between two rangers in the back seat, every bump knocking through his aching body. His eyes burned from exhaustion, but he couldn’t rest. Not when Darry was still out there.

He looked down at his hands, which the women at the cabin had cleaned and wrapped. His fingers had gotten pretty torn up when digging Soda out after the fall. And they’d only gotten dirtier after that. He nervously picked at his bandages.

They’d been driving for nearly two hours now. The rangers had followed the map he’d marked at the cabin—the trail they’d started on, the ridge that had given way, the creek he and Soda had followed for days.

“Should be close now,” said the older ranger in the driver’s seat, a heavyset man named Crowley. “You said the bluff gave way around here?”

“Yeah.” Pony’s voice cracked. He leaned forward, pointing out the windshield. “There. That’s the ridge. Right before it drops off.”

“Goodness, kid,” Calhoun said. “We’re 20, 25 miles from that cabin. You and your brother covered a lot of rough ground in good time.”

The jeep rolled to a stop at the edge of the slope. Beyond it, the land sheared off sharply, a jagged scar in the hillside where the ground had collapsed days before. Pony’s stomach turned. He could still hear Darry’s scream echoing off the rock.

Calhoun whistled low. “Hell of a fall.”

“Yeah.” Pony swallowed hard. “We were down there.” He pointed toward the distant trees, half a mile below. “That’s where we set up camp.”

“This is as far as we can take the jeep,” Calhoun said. “We’ll go the rest on foot.” He looked at Pony.

“How do we get down there?” Ponyboy asked. “We built a shelter down there. Can’t see it from here, but there’s a rocky overhang. He’s down there.”

The ranger from the passenger seat, McCrae, slung a coil of rope over his shoulder. “We’ll anchor here and lower ourselves. Safer than trying to find a new trail.”

Pony’s stomach flipped as he looked over the edge. It wasn’t sheer, but it was a long, broken slope of dirt and loose rock.

Calhoun gave him a long look. “You sure you want to come, kid? You can stay up here. We can find your brother fine, now.”

Pony shook his head. “No. I need to be there.”

Something in his voice must’ve settled the matter, because McCrae only nodded. “All right, son. I’ll go first. You’ll be next, then Calhoun. Crowley will stay up here to rappel us. Got it?”

Ponyboy nodded.

They moved carefully, inch by inch, the rope tight around their waists. The air was damp, the earth soft underfoot. Pebbles skittered down the slope and vanished into the trees below. Pony’s hands burned from gripping the rope, but he didn’t dare let go, even though he knew he wouldn’t fall if he did. It felt like he would, and his whole body trembled from the memory of the last fall.

When they reached the bottom, he stood still for a moment, trying to breathe past the flood of memory—the echo of Darry’s scream, the sight of his destroyed leg. His chest clenched.

Then he ran.

“Hold on, kid!” someone called. But he didn’t stop. Darry needed him.

He found him right where they’d left him. Beneath the makeshift canopy Soda had built, Darry lay half on his side, face pale, lips cracked. His chest didn’t move. His skin looked waxy, cold.

“Oh, no.” Pony fell to his knees, his hands shaking so badly, they were practically useless as he tried to check for a pulse. His vision blurred. His lungs locked up. “No, no, no, no, no. Please,” he choked out, voice high and broken. “Please, Darry, don’t do this—please—” He folded over his brother’s body, sobbing into his shoulder and grasping fistfuls of his shirt in his hands. The smell of sickness and dirt and old blood filled his nose, and he couldn’t stand it. “You were supposed to hold on,” he choked out. “Darry, please. I brought help,” he gasped between cries. “You just had to—had to wait a little longer.”

Pony heard footsteps and voices behind him, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He wanted to grieve. If he couldn’t have Darry, he wanted to grieve.

And then, faintly, beneath his hands, something shifted. A breath. A small, rasping sound. Pony froze. “Darry?”

A low groan sounded. There was a flutter of movement beneath his palm. Then Darry stirred weakly, eyelids fluttering, brow creasing.

“Darry!” Pony almost laughed and cried all at once. He gripped Darry’s face, shaking. “Oh, God, thank you, you’re alive—you’re alive—”

Darry’s eyes cracked open, glassy and confused. “Pony…?”

“Yeah.” Pony’s voice broke. “Yeah, it’s me. You’re okay now, we found help, we’re gonna get you out.”

Darry blinked blearily, trying to focus. “Where’s—where’s Soda?” His breathing hitched. Panic flared in his eyes. “He—He didn’t make it?”

“No!” Pony’s words tumbled out fast. “No, no, he’s okay! He’s safe, I promise! He’s at the cabin—we found people, and he’s okay!”

Darry sagged, the fight leaving him all at once. A tear slid down from the corner of his eye. “Thank God,” he breathed, barely a whisper.

Pony pressed his forehead to Darry’s, still shaking with leftover sobs. “You scared me so bad,” he whispered. “I thought I lost you.”

Darry’s weak hand found his shoulder, a ghost of the old steady squeeze that had always meant I’m here.

“You didn’t,” Darry murmured. “Couldn’t leave you like that.” His eyelids drooped.

“Darry,” Pony said hurriedly, panic flaring. “Stay awake. Hang on, we’re so close, but we ain’t out of the woods yet.” A humorless huff left him. “Literally.”

Behind him, one of the rangers swore. He quickly regained professionalism, crouching next to Darry, wincing as he looked at the broken leg. “You awake, Darry?”

Darry’s lips moved, but he didn’t make a sound.

“We’re gonna get you out of here, kid. My buddies are radioing a helicopter right now, and we’re gonna find an open, flat space to land. But that means we’re gonna get you on a stretcher and have to move you. It ain’t gonna be pretty, I’m tellin’ you now, but it should be better when your brothers had to move you.”

Darry didn’t respond. Pony’s stomach roiled. “Darry?” He gently shook his shoulder. “Did you hear that? We’re going to the hospital. We’re going to get you help. You have to hold on. Please, stay awake.”

With tremendous effort, Darry’s blue eyes blearily blinked open again. “Pony?” he whispered, like he’d forgotten all that had happened already.

“Yeah,” Pony said, his voice cracking as he gripped Darry’s hand. “I’m here. Soda’s waiting for us. For you. Please, you have to fight, just a little bit longer. We’re so close.”

Calhoun nodded sharply, already unzipping a medical kit. “That’s right. You did good, kids. You did real good.”

McCrae knelt on the other side of Darry, gently feeling for a pulse. “Weak, but steady.”

Pony just sat back on his heels, shaking, his hands still hovering near Darry like he couldn’t bear to let go. Darry blinked sluggishly, turning his head toward the noise. “What… what’s going on?”

“They’re rangers,” Pony murmured, brushing damp hair from Darry’s forehead. “They’re here to help you. A helicopter’s coming soon, all right? You just hang on.”

Darry frowned faintly, like he was trying to piece together the words. His voice came out cracked. “You… you came back.”

“’Course I did.” Pony’s throat tightened. “You think I’d just leave you here?”

A small, broken smile flickered across Darry’s face before his eyes slid shut again.

Terror flared in Ponyboy’s chest. “Darry?”

“Hey—hey, he’s just out,” the ranger said quickly, checking his vitals again. “He’s still breathing.”

Pony nodded, but tears burned his eyes anyway. He wiped them away with his sleeve, dirt streaking across his face. The world around him blurred with noise—zippers, radio chatter, the hiss of a flask of water being opened—but all he could hear was Darry’s labored breathing.

“We’ve got an incoming bird,” McCrae said into his radio. “ETA fifteen minutes. Open clearing’s a quarter mile east—we’ll need to carry him out.”

“I’ll help,” Pony said immediately.

McCrae shook his head. “You’ve done enough. You’re running on fumes, son. Let us take it from here.”

But Pony didn’t move from Darry’s side. He pressed his hand gently to Darry’s arm, a quiet promise that he wasn’t going anywhere again.

When the stretcher was ready, the rangers worked carefully, easing Darry’s limp body onto it. He groaned once, weakly, when they lifted his leg, and Pony flinched like he could feel it himself.

“Easy,” he murmured. “It’s okay, Dar.”

The men started the slow trek toward the clearing. Pony followed close behind, stumbling more than once, he was so tired.

And then, faintly, through the trees, he heard the approaching thump of rotor blades. Pony’s head jerked up, his heart lurching. The sound grew louder, closer, until wind rushed through the treetops and the helicopter swept into view, kicking up leaves and dust.

One of the rangers turned, shouting over the noise, “They’re taking him to the hospital! They’ll take you, too!”

Pony nodded numbly, eyes on Darry.

When the medics dropped down from the helicopter, shouting orders, Pony stepped back just enough to let them in. They moved fast—oxygen mask, IV line, bandages—but all Pony could do was stand there and watch his big brother disappear under their hands.

He reached for him once, barely touching his arm before they lifted the stretcher.

The medics nodded for him to follow. Pony looked back at the rangers, calling his thanks, before he climbed into the chopper beside them, gripping the edge of the seat as the ground fell away below.

Darry’s chest rose and fell beneath the blanket, shallow but steady, and for the first time in days, Pony let himself believe that maybe they really would all make it.

Chapter Text

“Sodapop!”

Soda had been sitting in the waiting room for a couple of hours when he heard familiar voices. Soda’s head whipped over. His face crumpled. “Guys.”

Steve and Two-Bit encircled him, asking him a million questions he didn’t hear. He found himself crying for what felt like the umpteenth time that day.

“He’s dead,” Soda cried. “Darry’s dead, he’s gone.”

Two-Bit made a strangled noise and stumbled back like he’d been slugged in the stomach.

“What?” Steve asked, letting go, his eyes flooding with shock. “What are you talking about? How do you know?”

Soda’s breaths came fast and shallow. “I—I don’t. I don’t know. I just—I feel it?”

Two’s hand was over his heart. “Don’t do that, man! You’re only guessing? Fuck, Soda!”

“But it’s been a whole day,” Soda said in a panic. “More than that now. He already looked at death’s door when we left him. We’re too late.” He hid his face in Steve’s chest and wailed, drawing the attention of some of the other people in the waiting room.

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey,” Steve said softly, rubbing his back, “Don’t think about that. Pony’s goin’ to get him, right? Darry’s just fine. Don’t jump to conclusions. We know Darry, he’s holdin’ on, okay? He ain’t gone.”

“You don’t know that! What if—What if he is?”

“He ain’t. But if, God forbid, it happened, you still got us. You always got us. We’ll figure somethin’ out.”

Soda couldn’t catch his breath. He felt Steve pulling him up and leading him out of the building, Two-Bit grasping Soda’s shoulder. They sat him down on the curb.

“Breathe,” Steve demanded. “Can you breathe?”

Soda gasped, clutching his chest. “Where are they?” Every inhale was a strained wheeze. Steve’s hand moved to Soda’s back.

“Soda. Stop. Deep breath in and out. Copy me.” Steve made an exaggerated breath.

“I can’t. I can’t.”

“Shut up. You can. Don’t think about them right now. You need to pull yourself together. Look at us!”

He looked at Steve and Two-Bit, tried to focus on their eyes, drawing in strained breaths. But with each one he took, they came easier. Less forced. He tried to think about work, drag racing, rodeos, game nights, bad westerns playing on tv, anything but the agony of thinking about his brothers right then.

Why did loving people always hurt this bad?

“That’s it,” Steve said, sounding a good deal less stressed. “Good.” He and Two-Bit plopped down on either side of Soda. “I think we’re just gonna stay right here for a little bit. Okay?”

“Okay,” Soda whispered.

Soda couldn’t remember a time when the three of them had ever sat in silence before. He or Two-Bit were usually blabbing their damn mouths off, and Steve always had something to put in, too. But now? As Soda sniffled, not one of them spoke. They just stayed seated shoulder-to-shoulder, and Soda realized it was kind of nice. He wondered if this was what it was like to be Ponyboy. If this was how he and Johnny had been like together.

After what must’ve been a good thirty minutes, Soda finally said, “I think I’m okay now.”

Two-Bit patted his back. “Wanna talk about any of it? If you can, when did this all even happen?”

“Saturday afternoon.”

Steve’s mouth fell open. “Three days ago?”

Soda swallowed hard and nodded. “I bet y’all really were losin’ your minds, huh?”

“Uh, yeah, no shit,” Two-Bit deadpanned, his expression as serious as Soda had ever seen it. “Steve nearly had us drive down last night, but after thinking it over again, we knew there was really nothing we could do. And trust me, we were wracking out minds trying to think of something.”

“I called out of work again today,” Steve said, “and Two and I just stayed at your house, waiting for the damn phone to ring. Thank goodness it did. I don’t know what we would’ve done.”

“What was the accident?”

“The trail was loose,” Soda explained. He folded his hands between his legs to keep them from shaking, but his leg just bounced in movement instead. The trail hugged a cliff edge, and it crumbled right underneath us. I—I was buried.”

“What?” Steve looked at him, horrified.

Soda nodded. “Pony dug me out as quickly as he could, but… It was still one of the most terrifying moments of my life. But then… we saw Darry. The bone in his thigh was broke clean through the skin.”

Steve’s mouth dropped open. “You mean his fuckin’ femur?”

Soda didn’t know what the bone was called, but he thought that sounded right. “Yeah.”

“Good Lord, how far was that fall?” Two-Bit asked, looking like he might be sick.

“I don’t know. Far. Guys.” He buried his face in his hands. “You’ve never seen him like that. I’ve never seen him like that. It was the worst thing I’d ever seen. Because it wasn’t just seeing him in that moment. It was seeing him in pain like that for days. He was so scared. Crying. Screaming. It was awful. It was so awful. There was nothing I could do for him.”

Steve’s hand landed on his shoulder. “You were there. I know that was a big comfort to him.”

After about a half hour of explaining what had happened, Soda’s head jerked up at the distant whupwhupwhup of a helicopter. “Do you think—”

“I dunno,” Two-Bit said. Hope sparked in his eyes. “Maybe, man! I mean, how many helicopters come to a hospital in a day?”

“If it’s them—” Soda grabbed Steve’s arm, his heart leaping, “that means he’s alive, right? They—They don’t do that kind of thing to get dead people to the hospital, do they?”

“Nothin’ urgent about dead people,” Two-Bit said. “They ain’t gettin’ any deader.” He looked toward them, grinning like he couldn’t believe it. “What if it is them?”

They rushed back inside, and Soda asked the receptionist about his brothers again and again, but she kept saying she didn’t know anything. And then—

Ponyboy, dirty and disheveled, burst from one of the doors, his eyes frantically scanning the room until they landed on Sodapop. He gave a trembling little smile.

The sound that came out of Soda was half scream-half sob as he rushed forward and Ponyboy caught him in his arms.

“He’s alive!” Pony cried. “He’s alive, Soda!”

Soda wailed, burying his face in Pony’s shoulder. “You’re sure? You’re sure? You’ve seen him?”

“Yes! Yes!” He pulled back. “I thought he was gone already when we found him.” Pony’s expression was grave. “But he held on for us. It’s—It’s not over yet, but he’s here now. If anyone can save him, these people can.”

Two-Bit grabbed Pony from behind, and even Steve joined in the hug. “Hey, Ponykid!” Two said, grinning ear to ear. “Boy, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!”

“Glory, you reek!” Steve said, but the words hardly matched the grin on his face. “Good to see you, Pone, you have no idea.”

Pony laughed, and quickly, that laugh crumbled into weeping.

“Pony…” Soda reached out.

Pony quickly wiped his tears away. “I’m okay. I’m okay,” he choked out. “Today’s just been—” he let out a broken semblance of a laugh “—a lot.” He sniffled. “I have to go get checked out now. But I had to see you first.”

“Checked out?” Soda asked, holding Pony at arm’s length. “Are you all right?”

Pony nodded. “Mostly. I—I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want you to freak out, but I think I broke my elbow in the fall.”

“What?” Soda felt sick. He hadn’t even noticed? “Haven’t—Haven’t you been in pain?” How could Soda not have known!

“Yeah. Some. But it’s been manageable. It’s not a bad break, if it’s even broken. I promise. I would’ve told you if I thought it was really serious. But it’s okay now. The doctors will know what to do.”

“Oh, Ponyboy, I’m sorry. I should’ve noticed.”

Pony shook his head. “I didn’t want you to. We had enough to worry about. And you’re fine? Like, really fine?”

Soda nodded. “Just bumps and scrapes. Nothing I can’t walk off. Can I come with you?”

“Probably. And then hopefully we can get an update on Darry when they’re done with his surgery.”

They went back together, finding the nurse that was waiting for Ponyboy to take them back to the examination room.

“Normally,” she explained, “we’d need a parent or guardian’s consent for an x-ray, since you’re under eighteen. But your older brother’s still in surgery, isn’t he?”

Ponyboy nodded. “Yeah. Will that—Will that be a problem?”

“No. We’ll note that and proceed,” she said gently.

Soda kept his hand on Pony’s back as his younger brother cradled his arm.

The x-ray room was small and cold, all white walls and humming machines.

“You’ll just need to hold still,” the tech said, and Pony tried, but Soda could see the tremor in his jaw. He looked so young there under the harsh light, dirty from days in the woods, sleeves torn, hands wrapped, eyes red from crying.

Watching his kid brother’s eyes dart with nerves, Soda felt hollowed out. “Hey,” he said softly, “You’re doin’ great, colt. It’ll be quick.”

Pony’s voice cracked. “Yeah. Just a picture, right?”

“Right.”

The machine clicked. When it was done, the nurse helped Pony sit back up. “Doctor will read this soon,” she said. “We’ll get you something for the pain.”

“Can you tell us anything about our brother?” Soda asked, wringing his hands.

“All I know is that he’s in surgery, honey,” the nurse said. “You’ll be alerted about any updates.” She looked at Pony’s hands. “Are those all right?” she asked.

Pony nodded. “Some nice women cleaned and wrapped them for me. They gave me some antibiotics, too.”

“Good.”

She left and returned about twenty minutes later, a clipboard hugged to her chest. Pony had dozed off against Soda’s side, face pale under the hospital lights. He stirred when the nurse came back in.

“You can sleep through this if you want,” she said with a gentle smile.

Soda brushed Pony’s hair from his forehead. “Aw, he’s had worse days.” It was meant to be a joke, but when he said it, he realized it was unfortunately true.

The nurse set the chart down. “The x-rays show a clean fracture of the ulna—his elbow bone.”

“What’s that mean?” Pony asked sleepily, his eyes drooping.

“It means we get you in a cast, probably up past your elbow so it can’t bend for a few weeks. You’ll need to keep it dry, then come back so we can remove it. You’ll be good as new. Kids heal fast.”

Soda nodded, relief and guilt twisting in his chest. Pony had spent days scrambling over rocks, climbing ravines, pushing through brush—all with a broken arm—and hadn’t said a word about it.

“He never complains,” Soda murmured. “You’d never even know he was hurt.”

The nurse gave him a look that was both kind and weary. “Those are usually the ones you have to watch the closest.”

Soda looked down at Pony, who had drifted off again. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Tell me about it.”

They got him settled in another room soon after. The doctor came in with the cast supplies. Pony woke up halfway through, confused and disoriented.

“Does it hurt?” Soda asked softly, watching the doctor wrap layer after layer of plaster.

Pony gave a dazed nod. “A little.”

“Almost done,” the doctor promised. “You’re tough, kid.”

That made Pony smile. When it was over, the doctor checked the sling and told Pony to keep the arm elevated.

Before he left, the doctor hesitated at the door. “I heard about your brother,” he said. “The surgical team’s good. They’ll give him every chance.”

Soda managed a nod, but he couldn’t find words. His throat burned.

When the door closed, the room felt too quiet. Pony leaned into him, eyes glassy.

“You’ll be okay,” Soda reassured him. “Clean break, remember?”

Pony nodded, but his lip trembled. “I don’t care. I just want Darry.”

Yeah. So did Soda.

Back in the waiting room, Pony sank into the chair beside Soda and leaned against his side. Soda rubbed slow circles over his shoulder.

“He’s tough,” Soda whispered, more to himself than to Pony. “He’s gonna make it.”

Pony didn’t answer right away. Finally, he said in a voice so small, “What if he don’t?”

Soda’s breath hitched. “I don’t know, honey. I just don’t know.”

Two-Bit tried to joke around, nudging Pony and telling him all the atrocious stuff he was gonna write on the cast, but it only lifted their spirits a little. Even Two was scared out of his mind the way he kept casting glances at the hallway.

After many hours, someone finally announced, “Family of Darrel Curtis?”

The four of them shot to their feet. Soda would’ve fallen right back down from fatigue if Steve hadn’t caught him and pulled him back up.

“That’s us,” Soda said, feeling like his heart was in his throat. Was he alive? What if he was dead?

The doctor smiled. “Your brother made it though. Successful surgery.”

The breath left Soda in a relieved cry. He slumped against Steve and grabbed Pony’s hand. Two-Bit laughed.

“He’s—He’s okay?” Soda stammered.

The doctor hesitated, and Soda’s stomach clenched. “He’s alive. ‘Okay’? The infection was advanced, and there was quite a bit of dead tissue we had to remove. But we were able to stabilize him and keep the leg. He will pull through.”

Soda felt something crack in his chest. “Oh, thank God. He’s still got it?”

“Yes,” the doctor said. “He’s going to have a long recovery ahead. A lot of pain, and months of physical therapy. But it’s thanks to you two that he’s here and that he kept the leg at all. You stopped the major bleeding, but you didn’t stop it too long to halt circulation altogether. Your quick thinking saved his life and his leg. And despite a long recovery ahead, I’d tell you not to worry about him pulling through. He’s young and strong, and—well, I’d say your brother’s got more fight in him than most.”

Soda laughed once. It was unsteady and broken. He dragged a hand along his face. “Yeah,” he whispered. “You got that right.”

The doctor went on, explaining that Darry was still under anesthesia, that they’d moved him to a recovery ward, that it’d be hours yet before he was fully conscious. Soda caught only pieces of it. All that mattered was that Darry was alive.

The doctor left, and, dazed, the four of them just stood there for a moment.

“So he’s… he’s gonna be okay?” Ponyboy finally asked.

Soda looked over and gave him a shaking smile. “Yeah, baby. He’s gonna make it.” He brushed a hand through Pony’s hair. “And his leg. Oh, I was so worried.”

For a moment, Pony just stared, and then he broke—covering his face with his good hand, shoulders shaking.. Soda pulled him in, feeling Steve and Two-Bit join the hug, letting his own tears fall. For the first time in days, he felt like he could finally breathe.

Soda didn’t sleep much that night. They all remained in the waiting room, waiting to be allowed back to be reunited with Darry. Soda sat by the window in the long hours before dawn, watching the sky turn from black to blue-gray, every minute dragging like an hour. Pony was stretched out on the waiting room couch, his casted arm on a pillow, breathing evenly.

“Curtis family?”

Soda shot to his feet so fast, he had to catch himself against the wall for balance. Two-Bit shook Pony awake.

The nurse smiled. “He’s ready to see you.”

Steve clapped Soda on the shoulder. “You and Pony go ahead. Two and I won’t be far behind.”

Soda nodded his thanks, and he and Ponyboy expectantly followed the nurse.

Darry looked small in that hospital bed. He looked hollow, pale. His leg was elevated, but it was heavily casted and intact. It was a huge cast, actually. Soda couldn’t see all of it due to a blanket, but it looked like it went from his ankle to almost his chest, and it even covered some of his other thigh as well.

“It’s to keep his femur immobilized,” the nurse explained when she saw him looking. “I know it looks scary, but it’s what’s going to let him heal.”

Darry’s eyes fluttered, and his head turned. He gritted his teeth and shut his eyes, then opened them again, as if to confirm what he was seeing. “So—Soda.”

Sodapop rushed forward, falling to his knees at Darry’s side, reaching up to cradle Darry’s face in his hand. “You—You really are alive. Oh, Darry. Oh, Darry.” He pressed his face to the mattress, shaking. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I thought we lost you. And we left you.”

“You had to,” Darry rasped. “I know, lil’ buddy.”

Pony came up behind Soda, resting his hand on his back. “How ya feelin’?”

“Um… weird.”

Soda let out a teary chuckle. “Yeah! I’ll bet.” He looked back at the cast. “Well, man, looks like you got quite the outfit now.”

Darry groaned. “I’ll say. This is awful.”

“Are you in pain?” Ponyboy asked.

“Just feels achy now, honestly,” Darry answered. “M’probably high as a kite on meds to feel like this, though. My femur was snapped clean in half. Nurse told me the surgeons were surprised I survived s’long as I did.”

Pony put his hand on Darry’s shoulder. Darry’s gaze dipped to Pony’s arm. His brow pinched with concern. “What happened?”

“Broke my elbow in the fall. Just a bit. I’ll heal in a few weeks,” Ponyboy assured him.

Darry, as if he didn’t quite believe it, looked to Soda for confirmation. Soda smiled.

“That’s the truth. It really ain’t a bad break. I was with him when he got the x-rays and cast and everything.”

“Did you know?”

Soda shook his head. “Nah. You know our little colt. Never speaks up about his health when it matters.”

Darry glared at Pony, who held his hand up in defense. “But it didn’t!”

“I don’t damn care if you think it matters or not,” Darry grumbled. “It always matters.”

“Not when you were in the condition that you were,” Pony said.

“Again. I don’t damn care.”

Pony rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Fine.”

Darry looked at them both, his eyes tired but fierce with love. “It’s over, then?”

Soda nodded, his lip trembling. “It’s over.”

Darry looked down at his cast. “I—I don’t know how we’re gonna get through this. About work. Or the state. Or—”

“We made it,” Soda interrupted. “You made it. That’s all that matters, honey. That’s all we care about. We’ll figure everything else out. You just get better.”

Darry nodded, and they just held onto each other, reeling from what they’d almost lost. From what they’d found again.

Chapter Text

Darry’s POV:
“Keith?”

Two-Bit ran into the room, Steve hot on his heels. “Darry.” Two-Bit gingerly but firmly wrapped his arms around Darry’s shoulders, holding him close. “Glory, man, it’s good to see you.”

“You, too,” Darry said, holding him just as tightly.

“That’s some cast!” Two pulled back, looking at it with wide eyes. “Is it really just your leg that’s broke?”

“Yeah. And yet it needs all this.”

Steve whistled. “That sucks, man.

“Forget signing it!” Two-Bit exclaimed. “We could write a whole book on that thing !”

Darry rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but smile. He’d never been so glad to see Two-Bit in his life.

Darry was in and out of it with fever for the next several days, but the nurses kept remarking that he was doing better, so he tried to believe it. One afternoon, when he was finally awake enough to learn what was really going on with him, he made sure to have it done when Soda and Pony were off to get something to eat and it was only Two-Bit with him. He expected a bad prognosis, and he didn’t want his brothers around if he broke.

“Mr. Curtis—”

“Darry.”

The doctor smiled. “Darry. We’ve done the scans, and we have a clearer picture of your recovery.”

Darry’s stomach sank, and he swallowed hard, gripping the hospital sheets. He could feel the tension radiating off Two-Bit as he squeezed Darry’s shoulder in silent support.

“Your femur is set to heal surprisingly well despite the delay in treatment. But you’ve still got a serious infection to fight off, and your leg muscles will continue to atrophy the longer they remain immobile. Here’s what the timeline looks like: hospital stay for two more weeks. You’ll be discharged on bed rest. The cast will remain in place for six to eight weeks. Then, we’ll start physical therapy—partial weight-bearing at first. Full mobility, walking without assistance, probably not for another four to six months. Heavy labor, like roofing? Not for at least six to nine months.”

Darry couldn’t have been more shocked and appalled if the doctor had slapped him. “Six to nine months?”

“I know this is discouraging,” the doctor said, “but I want to reiterate how miraculous it is that you’re even here right now. Femur breaks can be life-threatening even when you’re not stranded in the wilderness. The severe bleeding and complications… well, let’s just say that your brother’s quick thinking saved your life. And I’m sorry this is not better news for you, but with an injury like yours, this is a very good scenario.”

“So… bed rest,” Darry said practically. “How long? Then—Then before I can walk on my own, what will I do?”

“This first part is going to sound the worst, Darry, but I need you to listen. After the hospital, you’re looking at 4-6 weeks of bedrest in that spica cast you’re in now. That means you can sit up slightly, but no pressure on the leg. While you have a bedpan that the nurse assists with now, when you’re home, you’ll have a bedside commode that one of your brothers or someone else in the house helps you with. In a cast like yours, it will be very awkward, so they’ll help with cleanup and repositioning. You’ll need help with bathing, dressing, and shifting positions to prevent bedsores, which should happen every 2-4 hours, and will likely be a two-person job, to prevent breaking the cast.”

Darry could hardly speak. He felt sick. “Shit.”

Two-Bit cringed. “Literally.”

Darry shot him a look. Two held up his hands.

“After that, you’ll get that cast off if the x-rays show healing progress. You’ll use a wheelchair first—that’s safest for someone who’s still weak and has balance issues. After that, you’ll graduate to crutches with a leg brace to protect the still-healing bone. Physical therapy will teach you how to bear just enough weight on the leg without re-injuring it. You’ll still need help with bathing, cooking, cleaning, many things, but that’s normal. This is a long process, Darry. A long one. But you will recover, I can assure you that.”

“And—And work? I have to work.”

The doctor shook his head. “Absolutely not. By three months, you may be able to do sitting work, clerical, bookkeeping, that kind of thing. But no physical labor until six months, at the very least. And even then, only light physical labor until month eight or nine, depending on your healing.”

“I—I—” Darry stammered. “You don’t understand. I—I’m the financial support of my family. I have two kids to take care of. They don’t got anybody else.”

“There is help, Darry,” the doctor said. “There will be a social worker coming in for your family. This would be a good discussion for that time. Now, I’ll be in every once in a while to check your progress. And you come to me with any medical questions.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Two said for him, and then the doctor left.

Darry stared at the ceiling, hardly able to process. It was even worse than he’d expected. He couldn’t work. He’d have to be cared for like a baby. By who? What was going to become of his family? He’d almost lost custody once, it could happen again. And bedridden? What was he going to do?

“You okay, man?” Two-Bit asked softly.

Darry didn’t know how to answer. No, of course he wasn’t okay. He felt like he’d never feel okay again.

Two-Bit sighed. “This just means—”

“It means we’re fucked, Keith,” Darry’s said, his voice cracking. “Soda’s seventeen, Pony’s fourteen. We barely make it when I am working.” He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, jaw trembling. “What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to keep them?”’

“You let me and my mom and Steve worry about that, okay? You worry about gettin’ better, that’s all.”

“I can’t. I can’t help but worry.”

“I know. But I swear, Darry: you’re gonna get better, the money will be taken care of, and you ain’t losin’ them.”

Darry looked over at him. “You can’t promise those things.”

Two-Bit’s jaw was set with as much severity as Darry had ever seen it. “I’ve never meant anythin’ more in my life, Darrel: I sure as hell fuckin’ can.”

Two-Bit’s POV:
Two-Bit left the hospital room to give the run-down to the Curtis brothers at Darry’s request. It was about ten more minutes before the two came back, and they stopped in their tracks when they saw him sitting in the hall.

“What’s wrong?” Sodapop asked.

Two cast a glance toward the closed door. “Look. Doc just gave us the timeline.”

Soda looked confused and almost a little hurt. He and Ponyboy exchanged a glance. “Without us?”

“That’s how Darry wanted it. Just—Just in case it was bad.”

“Is it?” Pony asked, his voice tight.

“No! No, I meant, bad as in how he’s takin’ it. Doc said it’s the best prognosis we can get.” He told it to them straight.

By the end of it, they both looked like they’d watched a puppy die. Soda collapsed into a chair, hiding his face in his hands. “That’s—I didn’t know it was that bad. I mean—I knew it was bad, but… not like that. Oh, fuck, Two, what are we gonna do?”

“Listen,” he said. “I’m working part-time at the grocery, I’ll shift it to full-time. Pony, you can pick up a summer job, if you’re up for it. You’re about fifteen. There’s an opening at the grocery, you could come work with me. That’ll be two solid months of work until school starts. Almost until the point when Darry can take some clerical work. Steve or I could move in with you to help out, and Mom and Suzie will be over as much as they can to help with cooking, cleaning, whatever Darry needs.”

Soda shook his head, dropping his hands, his lip wobbling. “It’s too much. That’s too much.”

“No. We’d do anythin’ for you, do you understand that?” For once, Two-Bit felt much older than his nineteen years. “You’ve done so much for us, and we’re goin’ to return the favor now. Even if you’d done nothin’ for us, we still would, ‘cause you’re our family. You hear? You’re my brothers, okay?”

Soda leaped up and gripped him around the waist, burying his face in Two’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said, his voice muffled. “Thank you. You don’t know what you are to us.” Pony latched on to Two-Bit’s other side.

No. Two-Bit knew exactly what he was to them, if it was even close to what they were to him.

Once Soda and Pony composed themselves a bit more, Two-Bit said, “You gotta listen. It’s more than just financial dependency that Darry’s gonna have on us now. Especially this first month with him home. It’s gonna be complete bed rest. He’s gonna need help with everything. Eating, moving, washing, usin’ the bathroom. He won’t be able to do anythin’ on his own, and I know as well as you how humiliatin’ that’s gonna be for someone like Dar. He don’t like to rely on anyone, but he’s never gonna be more dependent on anyone than he’s about to be. Do you understand?”

The brothers looked at him with wide eyes, nodding.

“Glory,” Pony whispered. “That’s gonna just about kill ‘im.”

Soda sighed. “We’ll find a way. Set up a schedule. He likes that kind of thing, right? Maybe that will help.”

Two-Bit grinned. “My mom’s great at that kind of stuff. And she’s takin’ the bus down today. I know we got the social worker comin’ by soon, too, but Mom will handle it. Trust me, you boys don’t gotta worry about nothin’ with the SuperMathewses here.”

Soda and Pony both grinned and rolled their eyes, which was all the win Two-Bit needed.

Sure enough, that afternoon, Two-Bit, Mom, the social worker, and Darry had a conversation about the situation. Darry looked spooked out of his mind at the start, but as Two and Mom started giving their reassurances, he had relaxed considerably.

“Now,” the social worker said. “Clearly, the biggest worry here is the financial aspects. Do you have a plan in place for how Sodapop and Ponyboy will be taken care of?”

Darry gritted his teeth, clearly not having an answer for himself.

“Listen to me,” Mom said. “If they fall short financially in any way, my son and I will step in. I swear to you, those boys are best left exactly where they are. Darrel will ensure they are safe, fed, and loved, no matter what. Yes, it’s a situation of temporary financial hardship, but I assure you, on paper, no one would know their situation has changed if they just look at the financial aspects.”

The social worker nodded. “All right, then. I don’t think you’ll run into any trouble then, especially since Darrel is expected to make a full recovery. I encourage you, Darry, to apply for more welfare. It should be granted in this circumstance. It won’t be much, but enough to cover groceries or utilities. Given that Sodapop is nearly eighteen, too, that helps things.” She looked kindly at the Curtises. “I’ve known you boys for a while, now. I know your situation, and I know that ‘together’ is the best home for you, especially because this injury is only a temporary circumstance. I’ll always vouch for that as long as I believe that’s so. And I don’t believe anything’s changed.” She stood and smiled. “Get well soon, Darrel.”

Sodapop’s POV:
Darry’s body was fighting off the infection, just like they needed it to, which was the biggest relief.

His two weeks were almost up, and they’d be able to take him home, which was a relief. It had been a whole ordeal, balancing life between here and home. Soda still had to work, so on the days he drove home, Pony stayed with Darry in a cot in the room, and vice versa, if Two-Bit or Steve dropped by to drive Pony back. It wasn’t a great setup, but it was all they could do. Soda refused to leave Darry alone after all he’d already been through.

That last night in the hospital, both Soda and Pony crammed into the small cot.

Sodapop woke in the middle of the night to mumbling. Pony talked in his sleep every once in a while, so that was all he expected it to be. But Pony was completely silent against him, fast asleep.

The noise was coming from Darry, and it was only growing more agitated.

Soda climbed out of bed, hurrying over. “Dar? You awake?”

“Don’t leave,” Dar twisted, but most of his body was restrained by the cast. He cried out. “No, don’t leave me!”

“Oh, shit,” Soda whispered.

Ponyboy stirred, sitting up. “Huh? Wha’s goin’ on?”

“A nightmare,” Soda said, gently laying his hand on Darry’s arm. “Darry, honey? You gotta wake up. You’re just dreamin’. It’s okay, baby.”

“No! No. No, Soda, please. Dad, I can’t.” Sweat lined Darry’s forehead. He quaked and sobbed, tears falling from his eyes.

Soda felt like his heart was tearing. “Oh, no, no, no, Darry, we’re right here. No one’s gone anywhere. Can you wake up for me? It’s just a bad dream.” He held the side of Darry’s face in his hand like Mom would.

On Darry’s other side, Pony shook him by the shoulder. His face was creased in sympathy. “C’mon, wake up. It’s a nightmare, Darry, I know, I know. You’re safe. I promise, you’re safe.”

With another heaving sob, Darry’s eyes shot open, and they darted around the room, his chest working overtime as he breathed hard, more tears slipping. “No. No, no. Please, don’t go!”

“Shh, shh, shh.” Sodapop stroked Darry’s hair back, kissing his forehead. “There you are, sweetheart. It’s all right, now. We’re here. We ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Darry gasped, still disoriented. “H—Huh?”

“You were dreamin’,” Pony said, carefully climbing into the bed and tucking himself against Darry’s side. “Just dreamin’. Do you remember what about?” he asked, parroting what Darry always said to him after a bad nightmare.

Darry took another shuddering breath. “I woke you? I’m sorry.”

“No, we don’t care,” Soda said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Darry closed his eyes, grimacing as a sob hitched his breath. “You left. You left.”

Soda cussed under his breath, regret rushing through his stomach. “I know. I know, Dar, and I am so sorry. But we’re never leavin’ again. Dreams lie, you know that, hon. We’re right here, we ain’t ever goin’. Never leavin’ you alone, you hear me?”

“I hear,” Darry whispered.

Soda hugged him as best as he was able. “Never goin’ anywhere again,” he whispered one more time.

Getting Darry home the next day was a whole ordeal. With the help of a stretcher and the hospital orderlies, they got Darry stretched out in the back seat of the truck. Pony crouched on the floor back there as best as he was able to make sure Darry stayed still for the drive. Soda tried to drive as fast as he could without any cops noticing, knowing they were both in quite a bit of discomfort.

When they finally got home, Two-Bit rushed out of the house to help carry Darry inside, where the wonderful smell of a cooking meal wafted. Soda took a deep breath and smiled. It was good to be home. All of them.

Darry’s POV:
In Darry’s room that evening, Soda, Pony, Steve, Two-Bit, Mrs. Mathews, and Suzie had all crammed in to come up with the game plan.

“We need a schedule for the next month,” Mrs. Mathews said. “If possible, Steve and Keith, you can move into Soda’s old room. We’ll work in shifts. Darry will always have two people standing by for caretaking. Given that most of us work full-time as well, that’s what this schedule is for. To make sure no one is overworked, that Darry is always cared for, and that everyone is where they need to be. Here’s what I’ve come up with.” She passed the schedule around.

Night Shifts (two people each time):
10 p.m. – midnight: Two-Bit and Steve
midnight – 2 a.m.: Soda and Pony
2 a.m. – 4 a.m.: Steve and Pony
4 a.m. – 6 a.m.: Soda and Two-Bit

Daytime Shifts:
6 a.m. – 8 a.m.: Suzie and Mrs. Mathews before work
8 a.m. – 4 p.m.: Rotating between Mrs. Mathews and whoever’s off work that day
4 p.m. – 10 p.m.: Soda and Pony (after their jobs)

“Set your alarms,” Mrs. Mathews continued. “I’m putting this on the fridge. If you can’t be there for your shift, you get someone else. No exceptions.” Her eyes were kind but firm. “We’re all working full-time, so I’m not asking you to do more than you can. But at least two of you have to be here every couple hours, day or night. Got it?”

Everyone nodded.

It overwhelmed Darry, even though he was doing none of the work. No, he wished he were doing all of it. Instead, he was the one who had to sit back and be helped. Honestly, he was the one who was probably going to be most exhausted by this night schedule. But he hated that everyone else had to take part in it, too.

That night, the first thing he noticed was the clock ticking. Then the whisper of feet on the hallway floor.

“C’mon, keep quiet,” someone muttered—Steve, nearly asleep by the sound of it. The bedroom door eased open, spilling a sliver of yellow light across the floor.

“Sorry,” Two-Bit whispered back, his voice a gravelly hush. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m awake,” Darry mumbled, because pretending otherwise was useless. His whole body throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He couldn’t tell if he was cold or burning up.

“’S’okay, big guy,” Two-Bit said softly, stepping to the side of the bed. “Just the ten o’clock turn. Go on back to sleep after, all right?”

They moved with the slow, practiced care of men handling something fragile. Two-Bit braced his cast while Steve lifted, heaving with his legs, easing Darry onto his other side. The motion made his breath hitch through clenched teeth.

“There we go,” Steve muttered. “Done and done.”

“Better?” Two-Bit asked.

“Yeah,” Darry said softly.

They pulled the blanket back up, gave his shoulder a pat, and padded out again. The light clicked off. The house fell quiet.

He dozed, drifting in and out. The pain never quite left. When he surfaced again, the clock read 12:04, and he heard the door again.

This time it was softer—familiar. Soda’s whisper, followed by Pony’s footsteps.

“Hey, Darry,” Soda said, barely audible. “It’s just us.”

They worked quietly, all business. Pony shifted the pillows; Soda steadied Darry’s leg, their hands sure but gentle. He could hear how tired they both were in their breathing. He looked at their steady but efficient work from the moonlight streaming from the window. Such determination in their faces. Such care. His brothers. His boys.

“Good?” Pony whispered.

“Good,” Darry rasped.

Soda brushed his hand over Darry’s hair before they slipped away again. The light faded. Silence returned.

At two, there came another brief shuffle—Steve and Pony. Then, at four, Soda’s voice murmured low with Two-Bit’s as they repeated the ritual. The hours blurred into a rhythm of hands, blankets, and whispered reassurances.

Sometimes, they thought he was asleep. He never was.

He lay awake between the turns, listening to the night sounds—the floor creaking under familiar feet, the muted clatter of a glass in the kitchen, the soft sigh when someone dropped back into bed.

It hit him then how much they were giving up for him. Four boys, all bone-tired, setting alarms every two hours just to keep him comfortable.

His throat burned. He shut his eyes, willing himself not to cry.

At last, the light began to gray at the edges of the curtains. From the kitchen came the quiet hum of the coffee pot, the scrape of a chair. Someone yawned.

Darry let out a slow breath. The first night was over. The first night of many.

Shortly after six, Soda’s footsteps came next. “Hey,” he said, easing into the room. His voice was warm and light—so very Sodapop. “You awake?”

“Yeah,” Darry murmured. His throat was dry. He couldn’t look at him yet. “Soda, I—” He stopped. There wasn’t any way to say it that didn’t make him feel sick.

Soda sat on the edge of the bed, already knowing. “You gotta go, huh?”

Darry nodded, jaw tight.

“All right,” Soda said, his tone careful but steady, like it was nothing. “We’ll use the commode. The one the hospital sent us home with? Don’t worry about a thing, okay? I got you.”

That I got you was the worst part—because he meant it. Because Darry couldn’t remember the last time he had needed someone like this.

Soda set everything up without hesitation, the metal legs of the commode clacking, talking quietly about the weather, about what Mrs. Mathews was making for breakfast, like this was just another morning. He slipped his hands under Darry’s arms, guiding him slowly upright and helping him shift onto the seat. Every movement sent knives of pain up Darry’s leg.

“Sorry, sorry,” Soda murmured, his shoulder braced against Darry’s chest to steady him.

The humiliation burned hotter than the pain. “I can do it,” Darry muttered, even though he couldn’t.

“I know,” Soda said softly. “But let me help anyway, huh?”

When it was over, Darry couldn’t meet his eyes. His face was hot, his throat thick. He heard Soda moving quietly behind him, dealing with things, making sure everything was clean, that Darry was clean, that everything was fine.

Soda came back to his side after a moment, wiping his hands on a towel. “All set,” he said gently. “See? Nothin’ to it.”

Darry stared at the blanket. “You shouldn’t have to—”

“Hey.” Soda crouched beside him, resting a hand on his arm. “You done plenty for me. For all of us. Let me take care of you for once.”

Darry swallowed hard, blinking fast. His breath trembled when he nodded, and Soda saw it.

“Love you, big brother,” Soda said softly. “Ain’t nothin’ you could ever do that’d make me think less of you. Not this. Not ever.” Soda squeezed his hand and smiled like it was the easiest thing in the world. Maybe to him, it really was.
Days passed. It didn’t get any easier. Darry’s family and friends worked like clockwork to keep him taken care of, but she shame flamed deep inside him with every little help.

“Only for a month, Darry,” Suzie assured him softly, finishing up washing his hair one afternoon. “This extent of care will only be for a month. You know that.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You should be out with your friends, or going to the movies, or—”

“I have other time for that. And guess what? I’m here because I want to be. Because you’re Keith’s favorite person in the world. And I don’t think you’re half bad either.” She smirked. “My mom didn’t drag me here. I’m glad to be here.”

His favorite person in the world. Darry’s eyes stung for a moment. “The world? Nah, not when he’s got you.”

Suzie laughed a little. “Fine. Family aside, then. My point still stands.” She gathered the dirty dishes from the bedside. “You don’t have to like any of this. I sure as heck wouldn’t. But we’re here, anyway. So, deal with it.”

Darry chuckled. “I didn’t know you could be so snippy, Suze.”

“With a brother like Keith? C’mon, I learned a quip or two.”

A couple of evenings later, after cleaning up the commode and putting it away, Pony returned with the basin and sponge. “Bathtiiiime,” he announced, like Darry was some toddler to be tricked into thinking baths were fun.

Fine. Darry could play along. “What, no rubber duck?”

“Oh? Didn’t know you requested the premium bubble bath, my liege. That will be another five dollars.”

“Five dollars! For a bath? What a scam.”

“Tch.” Pony chuckled. “He helped pull Darry’s shirt off, then he got to work. “So,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about the book all day. What do you think happens to Dantes next?”

Darry knew Pony was trying to distract him from the humiliation of the sponge bath, but honestly, Darry might as well take the distraction. Pony had started reading The Count of Monte Cristo to him to pass the time. Sometimes, Darry took a turn reading, too. They’d read books together when they were younger, and Darry enjoyed getting back in the habit again. It really did help him take his mind off things. “Well, I think he’s gotta escape, don’t you? We’re hardly two hundred pages in, and there’s a thousand to go. This has to be the setup of the story.”

“But how could he get out?” Pony wondered aloud. “It’s as high security as things get.”

“I don’t know, but he’s persistent. He spent eight years digging a tunnel. Eight years. A person with that much patience won’t stop at anything to cleverly get what he wants.”

“Good point.” Pony carefully sponged Darry down, avoiding getting the cast wet. “I wonder what happened to his girl. Mercedes?”

“Well, the other guy got ‘er. Can’t imagine she’s been havin’ a good time.”

“Man, I really hope they reunite again. I wonder how that scene will go. Or how long it will take.”

“We’d better get reading, then.” Darry smiled.

Pony finished up with the washing, then used a flashlight to check the inside of Darry’s cast, making sure everything looked good and healthy inside, no infection returning or rash or bedsores beginning.

None of this failed to make Darry uncomfortable. He hated being checked over so closely, needing help with the damn bathroom, not even being able to dress himself. But he bit back his comments, knowing it wouldn’t help anything. His family was being so gracious in doing this for him. He just wished he didn’t care so much.

Ponyboy seemed to notice his discomfort. “It’s never… not going to be embarrassing for you, I don’t think,” he said. “Really, we don’t mind doin’ this stuff. Yeah, it’s different, and it can be exhaustin’, but it’s you, so we don’t care. But you’re a… You’re a person who takes a lot of pride in yourself. It’s just who you are. But that means… well, it means you’re just gonna feel this way when we take care of you. I’m sorry about that, but that’s just how it is.” Pony’s stormy eyes met his. “If it were me? What would you be tellin’ me? Be honest.”

Darry groaned, but he knew Ponyboy had a point. “I wouldn’t care a lick. You know that. But—But that’s different.”

“It ain’t. You’re my brother, too. It’s our pleasure, Darry. I mean that.”

“I feel like a baby. I need to be attended to every couple of hours at night. I need to be fed, washed, wiped, everythin’. And it’s not by just you guys. The Mathewses have to see me like this, too.”

“No. You’re a grown, healing person. Not a baby. And they’re our family, too. Remember what you told me and Soda about them being our guardians if it ever came down to it? Why can’t that willingness to care extend to you? They love you just as much. And I know it feels like forever now, but it’s gonna be over so soon.”

Darry didn’t answer at first. Then, he said, “It ain’t fair to you, either. I never meant for you to work. Or to take care of me all night.”

“I like working,” Pony said genuinely. “Besides, it’s just for the summer. The people are pretty nice there, Two-Bit’s always fun, and, well, I guess it’s character-building. I understand the store workers now a lot more, that’s for sure.” He gave a little chuckle. Darry didn’t share in the amusement.

Pony was quiet for a few moments before speaking again. “Maybe you could use something else to occupy yourself. Do you… Do you wanna try writing something together? Or you could write something, and I could illustrate? It might be fun.”

It was nothing that ever would have crossed Darry’s mind on his own. But as he thought about it, as long as it was with Ponyboy and his imagination, it did sound like a hell of a lot of fun. He grinned. “You know what, little buddy? Why not?”

Ponyboy’s POV:
Pony’s birthday rolled around the next day. Sodapop woke him by jumping on the bed and yelling something or other about “fifteen years old.” Pony laughed and used the pillow to block his ears.

This birthday was going to be a lot different. His arm was in a sling, Johnny was gone, Darry was confined to his bed, and Pony worked at the grocery now. But today still felt special. Reverent. It still felt surreal that they had all survived the events of three weeks ago.

Soda ruffled Ponyboy’s hair. “Go see Darry, now. I’m sure it’s killin’ him to not be able to come in and say hi himself.

Pony knocked softly, but it looked like there was no need. He was already awake, staring out the window, a cup of coffee in his hands that Steve or Soda must’ve brewed for him. He turned his head at the door opening and smiled. “Hey, birthday boy. Come ‘ere.” He set down the coffee and opened his arms. Pony sat with him, careful not to jostle him, and Darry threw an arm around his shoulders. “Look at you. Learner’s permit age and everythin’ now. You excited?”

“Oh, yeah.” Pony really was. He loved Soda, but getting rides from that middle brother of his always felt like having a death wish. “Thiiiiink I’ll ask you to teach me, once that cast is off, though.”

Darry snickered, nudging him. “Good call.”

At Pony’s request and Darry’s relief, they moved him to the living room for a party that evening. Complete with two chocolate cakes and a dinner made by—

Darry’s eyes widened when he saw who was in the kitchen. Pony and Soda laughed behind their hands.

Dotty, the girl Darry had been seeing recently, waved it off like it was nothing, like she came over all the time or something. “Your brother called. Said you’d been raving about the shepherd's pie I made for you on our last time out. Asked if I wanted to come over and make some and join the party for a bit.”

“I—I—” Darry stammered before collecting himself. Ponyboy bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing again. Oh, this was too good. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t call. I’ve been in the hospital, or—or my room—”

“Oh, it’s all right,” Dotty said, tying back her brown hair in a bun when some pieces kept falling in her face. “I never expected anything. I can’t believe you’re going through a recovery like this.”

“Don’t really have a choice,” Darry said.

She smiled sympathetically. “Well, I hope a good dinner can cheer you up. And maybe once you’re out of that cast, we could go somewhere out of the house. What do you say?”

Darry flushed, but he looked quite pleased at the prospect. Soda and Pony exchanged a look. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

Once she turned back to the sink, Darry frantically waved Pony over and whispered. “Kid! This is your birthday, not mine.”

Ponyboy smiled as innocently as he could manage. “So? I love a good home-cooked meal.”

“You don’t call people over to cook for you.”

“Well, I needed some excuse. C’mooon, look at that smile. She looks pretty happy to be here, don’t you think?” Pony shot him his most annoying smile, then sauntered off to join Soda again, even as Darry kept hissing stuff behind him.

Darry’s POV:
The weeks passed. They settled into a routine. Darry saw how exhausted his family was. He never thought he could love them any more than he already did. But when they came in every two hours, every night, to turn him, without fail, and they never grumbled once, he found himself adoring them a little more.

He was turned on his stomach during reading time to give his backside a break. He enjoyed putting in his thoughts and theories along with Pony, then brainstorming their own story. Stuff like this made him feel like a kid again, and not in the bad way. Suddenly, being the one taken care of, Darry felt like Soda and Pony could just be his brothers again, for a time.

Chapter Text

Eventually, bathroom and washing and feeding and turning and everything else that came along with Darry’s care became as routine as it could feel, and by the time he felt that way, his leg was healing, and it was time to finally get the cast off and transfer to life in a wheelchair. He was ecstatic. He’d only left his bed a few times in the whole damn month. And even then, he hadn’t been out of the house.

Pony’s arm had been healing well, and he’d gotten his cast off a couple of weeks before. His movement would still be a little limited as it healed the rest of the way, but Pony was clearly relieved to get the use of both of his arms back.

Darry cried when he got his own cast off. There was no keeping it back. He had never felt such relief and freedom in his life. His muscles had certainly atrophied, his legs in particular looking oddly skinny, but those were things that could be worked up again. He felt like himself again. Finally.

He was a bit lousy with the wheelchair at first, but he quickly got the hang of things. The guys built a ramp up the front porch for him. His stamina still wasn’t what it had once been, and he knew his leg wasn’t close to doing healing. But with that and starting load-bearing physical therapy, it was a start in the right direction.

By the time September rolled around, his roofing boss was gracious enough to give him some clerical work. Payroll, supply orders, typical administration work. Darry liked how methodical it was. It didn’t bring in much, but it was something.

Like the doctor said, Darry was able to eventually ditch the wheelchair for crutches and a brace. It was an uncomfortable, painful process, but his physical therapist was always an encouragement and brought him through the struggle.

Six months arrived around Darry’s birthday, which felt like the best present he could’ve been given. He wouldn’t be able to go back to roofing until at least April, but at this point, the doctor cleared him to do light physical labor and walk for short periods of time. Darry was on his feet again. Not always without pain or a prominent limp, but anything was better than that first month in the spica cast. Darry didn’t think he’d ever forget that prison of a thing.

He took a job in a hardware store, enjoying the methodicalness of inventory and stock. He also found himself enjoying helping people find what they needed. It was a lot less strenuous than his usual work, and it didn’t bring in quite as much money, but he found himself pretty content.

He’d been well enough to give Ponyboy driving lessons. His youngest brother was surprisingly careful in the car. Pony had always been a more cautious person than Soda, but he hadn’t expected Ponyboy to drive like a total grandma.

That was, until the actual issue reared its head, and Darry found himself in the front seat of the truck with Pony one late January day, Pony’s hands trembling something awful as they stopped in front of the railroad tracks.

“Everything’s clear,” Darry noted gently. “You can drive over. Go on.”

Ponyboy swallowed hard. “Um—Uh, maybe not, okay? Yeah, we can turn around, right?”

“Hey.” Darry lay a hand on his shoulder. “You can do this. It’s safe.”

“We—We could stall. We could stall on the tracks, Darry.”

“We could. And then we’d get out of the truck. But it ain’t gonna stall. You can do this, Pone.”

Pony’s knuckles were white against the wheel. “Darry—”

“I’d never lie to you, Pony. You’re strong. You can do this. Go on, now, I’ll be right here if anything ever goes wrong.”

Ponyboy took a deep, shuddering breath, then drove their truck over the train tracks. Tha-thump, tha-thump.

He had tears streaming down his face by the time they reached the other side. Darry pulled him close, never more proud. “Look at that. You did it.”

“I did it,” Pony whispered.

Winter turned to spring. Darry’s leg healed even more. It wasn’t until May that he was cleared for roofing again, but his old manager was even willing to take him back, at even slightly higher pay than before. Darry snatched up the offer, grateful for the sun on his back and the good strain on his body. There was something about work with his hands like this—work that he had to put his whole body in—that gave him such satisfaction he hardly knew how to put words to. He didn’t always like it. It wasn’t always easy. But it was gratifying. And it felt like he was in his own body again. Different from before, he still had a lot of work to do before he was mostly back to the form he’d once been in, but it felt great, especially knowing that he was stepping into a providing role again.

One day in early July, Darry was sitting out on the back porch, listening to the steady rainfall and distant thunder as afternoon stretched into evening.

Pony sat next to him on the porch. For several silent minutes, they watched the rain, breathing in the wet, earthy air.

“A year, huh?”

Darry nodded, surprised. He hadn’t thought it crossed any of his family’s minds but his own. No one had brought it up until now. “You think Soda knows?”

Pony shook his head. “Nah. And it’s probably for the best. Wish I would forget the date, too, honestly. I don’t like… anniversaries, you know?”

Darry knew exactly what he meant.

Pony eyed the way Darry’s hand lay over his leg. “Does it hurt today?”

“Just a little. Just enough to remind me.”

“Do you mind the limp?”

“I did at first. Until I realized I walk just like Sodapop now.” He smiled a little. “And that’s sure not a bad person to be like.”

Pony hummed his assent. “Guess what?”

“Hm?”

Pony pulled something out of his back pocket. “I didn’t tell you, but I submitted the story we wrote to a literary magazine. Three, actually. The first two were rejections, but this one?” He grinned. “We’ve made $20 off of it, too. Not bad, huh?”

“Pony—”

“Don’t worry! I gave you a pen name and everything.” He smirked. “Couldn’t sully your good name. God forbid Darrel Curtis write a story.”

Darry chuckled and shoved his shoulder. “Fine. As long as you didn’t give me a stupid name.”

Pony shook his head. “What do you think of Jonathan Curtis?”

Darry smiled. Johnny. “I think I like that just fine.”

“Dinner’s ready!” Dotty called from inside.

Pony leapt up and helped Darry up by the hand.

“Glory, that smells good,” Pony said. “Man, I sure love your girlfriend.”

Darry grabbed him around the neck and mussed up his hair. “No stealing, you scrub.”

“Not like that!” Pony yelped, laughing as he wormed his way out of Darry’s hold.

“Hey!” Soda said, opening the door and wagging his finger. “No delaying dinner! Or I’ll eat all of it.”

“You will not.” Darry playfully punched his shoulder.

“Sure, I won’t.”

And on six steady legs, the three of them walked in together.