Disclaimer: The Outsiders is the property of S. E. Hinton. No copyright infringement is intended. Many lines are taken directly from the book, but have been reframed or given additional context. The title is taken from the song "Unchained Melody" by The Righteous Brothers.

MC4A Challenges: SoC; LL; ToS; BAON; VV; Cluster; RoB; Fence; SHoE; O3
Individual Challenges: Short Jog (N); New Fandom Smell (Y); Cracked Façade (N); Misunderstood (N); Tissue Warning (N); Times Go On (N); Doctor, Doctor, Give Me the New (N)
Representations: Ponyboy Curtis; Darry Curtis; Soda Curtis; Curtis Brothers; Hurt/Comfort; Big Brother; Understanding Each Other
Bonus Challenges: Jack's Jollies, Second Verse (Under the Bridge, Lyre Liar, Deadliest Catch, Mother Hen, Nontraditional, Sneeze Weasel); Chorus (Larger Than Life, Mouth of Babes, Machismo – Crying)
Tertiary Bonus Challenges: O3 (Orator, Ox); SHoE (Oblique)
Word Count: 2006

A/N: This is a rewrite of the latter half of chapter 10, beginning when Pony finally wakes up. I did enjoy the chapter as S. E. Hinton wrote it, but I felt like it was a little choppy and didn't explore the change in Ponyboy's relationship with Darry as fully as it could have. This is my humble attempt to expand on that aspect of the story.

Time Can Do So Much

At first when I came to, I couldn't make out much of anything except that my head hurt. A lot. I tried to open my eyes, but it was daylight, and the sun was pouring in from my bedroom window, which didn't have any blinds because Soda had torn them down by accident one time when we were roughhousing. The light made my head worse; even the red glare through my closed eyelids was almost more than I could stand. I thought about trying to turn over on my side away from the window, but I was afraid to find out what that might do to my head.

"Ponyboy? You awake?"

"Soda?" I muttered groggily.

A low chuckle came from beside me. "No, sorry. It's just me, Darry." Darry's voice was soft, almost gentle, for him. "How you feelin'?" His big hand came down on my forehead, and for a second the light got mercifully dimmer. I groaned when he took his hand away.

"My head," I mumbled, squinching up my eyes to try to make it darker. It didn't help.

"I know," Darry said. "You've got a concussion, a pretty bad one. One of the Socs kicked you in the head—Soda saw the whole thing. I never seen him so mad. I think he coulda whipped anyone, the state he was in. That Soc never knew what hit him."

I laughed a little. "Where is Soda?"

Darry sighed. "Asleep, I hope. I thought he was gonna go to sleep shaving this morning and cut his throat. I had to push him to bed, but he was out like a light in a second." He paused. "Kid, you had us scared to death."

"How long I been out?"

"Let's see. Today's Tuesday, and the rumble was Saturday night. So that's… four days you been asleep and delirious. Wasn't just the concussion, the doctor said. Exhaustion, shock, malnourishment, dehydration—sounded like just about everything was wrong with you that coulda been. I told you you were in no condition for a rumble."

"Doctor?" I asked, ignoring the last part. "What doctor?"

"Pony, you were in the hospital for two days. Don't you remember any of it?"

"Nuh-uh." I started turning my head away from the window, about a millimeter at a time. Maybe if I went real slow, I could get turned enough so the light wouldn't bother me.

"You kept askin' for Soda. Sometimes for Mom and Dad, too. But mostly for Soda."

Something in his tone made me pause. Hesitantly, I said, "And… you?"

There was that low chuckle again, and this time I caught the sad tone to it. "No," he said. "Far as I could tell, you never asked for me."

I got kind of a sick feeling in my belly. "Darry…"

"No, it's okay," he interrupted me, which maybe was good because I didn't quite know what I wanted to say. I couldn't help what I'd said when I was delirious, of course, but that didn't make it any better. Actually, it made it worse. "I get it. I'm not the one you wanna have when you're feelin' lousy. I'm sorry, I'd go get Soda for you right now, only I'm worried about him 'cause he ain't been sleepin' at all…"

"Darry!" I said again, and then I was crying, and I couldn't stop. Suddenly I felt his big arms wrap around me as he picked me up and sat down on the bed with me in his lap. I buried my aching head in his chest, glad for the sweet relief of darkness, and bawled. He was holding me too tight and rocking me back and forth way too hard, but for once I didn't mind him being so rough with me. That was just Darry.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, Pony. You're okay, you're gonna be okay. I've got you. I'm sorry, I shouldn'ta made you feel bad, but I want you to know I've got you. Even if I can't be Soda, even if I can't be the one you want, I'm still here for you, okay, Pony? I've still got you…"

He kept talking like that, gentle as could be, until I'd cried myself out. I didn't try to say anything; I couldn't. I just held onto him, digging my fingers into his denim shirt and holding on like I'd never let go. Trying to let him know that no matter what had happened while I was sick, I did want him, and I knew he was there for me and always had been, even if he was too rough. It was like all the guys had been trying to tell me: Darry didn't mean it, and he never had.

The rocking slowed as my sobs quieted down, and he loosened up his grip a little. I still wasn't comfortable; his solid chest made for a mighty hard pillow, and my neck was cricked funny which made my head even worse. But I didn't want to let go of him just yet.

After a minute or two of silence, Darry started talking again. "I held you like this when you were born. Soda was too little, and Dad had to hold onto him so he wouldn't hurt you by accident, he was so hyper. But Mom let me climb right up on the hospital bed beside her, and then she put you in my arms, almost just like this. She showed me how to hold your head real careful, since you couldn't hold it up on your own." As if remembering what Mom had shown him all those years ago, Darry adjusted me so my head rested more on his bicep instead of his chest, which straightened out the crick in my neck. It didn't stop my head hurting, but it helped. "Your face got all red and you started in like you were gonna holler, but then it was like you changed your mind and decided maybe you liked me after all. You went to sleep in my arms. I got to hold you for a real long time." He paused, and then his voice got even quieter. "I think that was when I decided no matter what happened, I was gonna protect you. I never wanted to let anything bad happen to you, ever." He chuckled wryly. "Glory, that sounds corny when I say it out loud. Anyway, it seems like I've done a pretty sorry job of it, huh, Ponyboy?"

Slowly, I forced my eyes open and looked up at Darry. I hadn't heard them in his voice, but there were tears running down his face. He looked exhausted. I'd always thought he looked older than he was, but I'd never noticed the faint wrinkles in his leathery, sunbaked face, across his forehead and between his eyebrows. There was some gray sprinkled through his dark brown hair at the temples, too. How had I never noticed that before?

"I just wish you could trust me like you did back then," he said with a sad smile, and his pale blue eyes weren't like ice after all. "But I guess I don't really deserve it."

"Yeah, you do," I said, and I meant it. "You've done everything you could to take care of me and Soda both and keep us all safe and together. Ain't your fault I never listened." I closed my eyes again, exhausted and aching. "I'm sorry, Darry."

"Me too, Pony," he said. "Me too." Then, after a moment, "You wanna try and get some more sleep?"

I kinda wanted him to keep holding me, didn't want to ruin the moment, but the new position was starting to get uncomfortable too. Plus I'd just realized something. "Actually, I really need to pee."

Darry stifled a laugh, and I grinned. Moment officially ruined.

He carried me to the bathroom and held me upright while I relieved myself. My head was so heavy I could barely hold it up, and Darry let me rest it against him the whole time. It should have been mortifying, having my big brother standing there watching me pee, flushing for me so I didn't have to bend down, even helping me wash my hands, but somehow it wasn't.

"Darry?" I said as he got me settled back into bed.

"Hm?"

"When—When'll I have to go to court to talk to the police about Bob gettin' killed?"

He hesitated, like he'd been dreading that subject coming up. "Couple weeks, I guess. When you're feelin' stronger."

"With everything that's happened… With Dally and…" I trailed off. I couldn't say his name. He's not dead, I told myself. Don't think about it. He's not dead. Don't remember. Don't remember. Darry put a hand on my shoulder to steady me. I took a deep breath and finally managed to get out, "You think they'll split us up? Put me in a home or something?"

Darry's hand jerked on my shoulder, but he didn't say anything for a minute. "I don't know, baby," he said quietly, using a name he hadn't called me in years. I'd always hated it when he called me that. For some reason this time I didn't. "I just don't know."

I tried to imagine what it would be like, being in a different bed, a different room. No Soda. No Darry. Would a foster family take such good care of me if I got roughed up in a fight? I didn't think so.

Sodapop has perfect timing. That's what makes him so funny, turns just about every other sentence out of his mouth into something hilarious; he can have you in stitches saying things that wouldn't be funny coming from anybody else, just by knowing the right time to say them. It's another part of his charm with the ladies, and it makes him a favorite with the guys, too, not to mention me and Darry. But I'd never been so glad for it as when he came bounding into the room just then, dressed in nothing but a pair of blue jeans. "Hey, Ponyboy!" he yelped, trying for a flying leap onto my bed.

Darry caught him midair and set him firmly on the ground. "No rough stuff, little buddy. Pony's had it rough enough as it is."

Soda stuck out his tongue at Darry, but he came in gentler next time. A little. Gentler for Soda was bouncing up and down on the bed and pounding on my shoulder instead of flying tackling me. Maybe being too rough just runs in the family.

"Man, but you were sick, Pony. You feel okay now?"

"I'm okay," I said, grinning in spite of myself. Good old Sodapop. "My head's still sore. And I'm kinda hungry."

"You oughta be," Darry said. "You couldn't keep anything down the last few days. How'd you like some mushroom soup?"

I suddenly realized just how empty I was. "Man, I'd like that just fine."

"I'll go make some. Soda, take it easy with him, okay?"

Soda looked back at him indignantly. "You'd think I was gonna challenge him to a bull ride or somethin' right off the bat."

"Knowin' you…" said Darry. He grinned and headed for the kitchen before Soda could jump him.

Soda grinned down at me, practically bubbling over with joy. You'd have to know him like I did to see just how worn out he was. "Sure is good to see you awake, Ponyboy. I swear, you've worried me and Darry so much this last week it's a wonder we ain't both old and gray."

Darry's getting there, I thought. I searched Soda for worry lines or gray hairs, but there weren't any. Soda will probably hit sixty and still look as young as right then. That's just who he is. He and Darry are total opposites that way. But somehow they both manage to be the best brothers a guy could ever have.

I won't let anybody take me away from either one of them. Not for anything in the world.