A Brother's Devotion

I don't own The Outsiders, as much as I wish I did. Credit for these marvelous characters goes to the wondrous S.E. Hinton.

Chapter 1- He hurts, I hurt

~Soda POV~

It was 2 A.M. and I was in the last place I wanted to be. The hospital. Hell, I wouldn't even wish this on a Soc. Well, I might. It depended. I sighed as I settled into a chair, dragging it in to be closer to Ponyboy's bed. I looked around the hospital room they had stuck him in yesterday. It was basic, and practical, I guess if you're into that kind of junk. It had whitewashed walls, a white ceiling with spidery cracks skittering across it, and a shiny, tiled floor that reflected my gaunt face back up at me every time I looked down. Boring, useless, and the cleanest place I had ever seen. The only color was in the faded, green blanket someone had draped across Pony's thin frame. Tucking it in closer to him, I sighed. He was still too skinny from his time at Jay Mountain. But no matter what, he wouldn't eat.

Every time he was semi-conscious, we tried, begged, pleaded, anything, to try and make him swallow something, anything. But he would only turn his head away, saying something about baloney, sweating shining on his forehead, his eyes glassy and expressionless. It made no sense. But I couldn't argue with someone who couldn't even answer back. Hell, I couldn't even be strict with him usually. All he had to do was fix me with his big, deep green eyes, and I couldn't fight them. It was like punching a straw doll, useless. I was a sucker for my little brother. He was my weakness, like Louis Lane was Superman's. What was it called again? I searched my fried brain. Oh yeah, kryptonite. Pony was my own personal kryptonite. Someday it might get me killed. I knew that. But better me than Ponyboy, god forbid.

I felt the muscle in my jaw twitching as I looked at Ponyboy, lying white and still on the hospital bed, bruises covering his face and neck, a long cut on his temple. I ran my hand through his thick hair, wincing as I worked my fingers through the caked dirt and mud. The blond dye was still there, under the mess and gunk. It probably would be for a long time. Would the scars on his heart last as long? I hoped not. Because if Pony broke, I knew I would, too.

Why was he here? It should be me, lying on the bed. He didn't deserve this. I knew that. Pony was the dreamer, the one who watched sunsets and didn't fight, who kept me whole, kept me sane. The little spitfire that wasn't afraid to take me down a notch or two if I got shirty or too cocky. Pony. My little brother. I shifted in the hard plastic chair, rubbing my face roughly with my hands. Christ, I needed a shave, and a hot shower. But there would be time for that later. I would take a shower when Pony was there to nag me about self-hygiene or whatever it was called. It would be worth it ten-fold then. He choked uneasily, his face pulling taunt as he twitched.

"Pone? Ponyboy?" I asked hopefully, placing a hand gently on his face, trying to smooth out the lines that creased with pain, tracing the freckles I had looked at for the last fourteen years. Please, please, for me, wake up. We need you. Come back. The dumb complicated machine he was hooked up to bleeped annoyingly in response, the stupid little squiggly lines jumping with his heartbeat. I ground out a hard laugh between my teeth. My little brother's life was showing up on that stupid little screen.

His life was so much more than that.

That plastic black box of shit didn't show his pain when mum and dad died, when the police showed up at our door, twisting their hats between their hands and shifting from side to side, their faces blank, when he crumbled at my feet sobbing as I held the doorframe for support, my vision warping with tears.

It didn't show his laughter when we played football, when Two-Bit cracked a new joke or Johnny got sassy, when Dal let down his guard and joked around, acting his age, 17, instead of the untamable hood he was, underneath.

When Dar or I earned one of his beautiful, happy smiles, one where his guard was down and he wasn't worrying about school or arguing with Darry, or that he was going to die on the streets, young and alone. When he was simply being Ponyboy, the fourteen year-old he should be, the one he deserved to be. Those smiles took me back to when he didn't have to be responsible, didn't have to play grown-up along with me and Dar, worrying about the goddamn bills or if the state was going to separate us, splintering our family, and my heart with it, a little further apart.

I was going to kill the Soc that hurt him.

I hope that was a good first chapter!!! Please review! Flames aren't welcome, but if they come, I'll read them anyhow….promise on Sodapop! Oh, and I listened to Ugly by the Exies obsessively while writing this, if anyone cares. No? Ah, well. Oh yeah, I'm looking for a kind beta to put up with me and help shape my jumbled ideas, so please please PLEASE pm me if you are interested!!!