Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders, its characters, and the dialogue I took from ch. 7. All credit to her!

Pony's safe.

He's safe.

I repeat that word to myself over and over again, and each time it sounds just as good. I almost forget about Johnny and Dally in my happiness, and it's not until I'm seated in a waiting room with both my brothers beside me that the realization our friends might not be okay hits. It's then I realize I've been so worried about my brother that Johnny became the afterthought; he, the one who actually killed Bob, deserves better than this. He shouldn't be anyone's afterthought; not his parents, teachers, but especially not ours.

We wait impatiently on news. No one tells us nothing. You can hear Dal belt cuss words at his nurses every now and then, but that's all we get.

"Johnny got burned real bad and a tree truck collapsed on him," Pony pipes up. He looks scared, so I drape an arm around his shoulder. "That's what they told me in the ambulance. They said Dally's okay, but Johnny ain't doing so good..."

"Johnny'll be alright," I assure him, even though I ain't got a clue what I'm talking about. If I say it, he'll believe me, and if it's a lie, well, then I'll just have to deal with that later…

We're not out of this mess yet, that's for sure, but at least I have my both my brothers again.

xxxx

Reporters and cops everywhere.

There's so many people, I can't sit still anymore and pop right up.

"Hey, ask me some questions!" I try to nab a reporter's attention, but he's busy asking Ponyboy questions.

Darry looks annoyed. I smile at Ponyboy and point to the reporter's press hat, letting him in the on the fun I'm about to steal it. He shakes ahead at me slightly, but I snatch it anyways and snatch the camera from the guy next to him too.

I approach a pretty young nurse. Locks of red hair peek out of the nurse's cap, and her curves flow mighty nice under that uniform… I feel guilty, especially after that letter I just sent Sandy, but this gal's simply too fine not to look at.

I clear my throat. "Excuse me, miss."

She scowls at me, but I grin back. "I have a few questions for you," I say in my best TV reporter voice. "Number one, when you came to work this evening, did you think it was going to be an ordinary day or did you have a sense something was going to happen?"

She ignores me and stares at the chart in her hand.

"This is very important, miss," I add. "For the papers, you know."

"Put this down for the record: this is what it's like every night in the ER. Only difference tonight is some crazy kids made headline news."

"Excellent, I'll quote you on that. Can I get a name?"

She rolls her eyes and turns away. "Hey, this interview ain't over yet…" I call after her. "I mean, this interview isn't over yet."

She lifts an eyebrow. "What more could you possibly need to ask me?"

"Your phone number?"

"I've got a job to do," she says and walks away for real this time, despite my pleading eyes. Damn it, that usually works with people...

I sigh and turn my attention to the next person.

Glares.

Another person.

More glares.

Glares, glares, glares all around.

I whip to the other side of the waiting room where a few cops where standing. The gun in one of their holsters catches my eye, and I wonder what it would feel like to hold it. I inch towards it little by little, careful not to get caught, but the moment my hand touches it, the man flips around and stares at me like he has half a mind to throw handcuffs on me. Ah shit.

Well, stealing a cop's gun probably ain't a good idea… I hope Darry didn't see that. "Hey, I'm Sodapop." I grin and hold my hand out to officer.

He gives me one hell of a glare, but then a small smirk forms across his lips. "Sodapop, huh? You should probably go take a seat, son." He points to the bench where my brothers are. I salute him and scamper off in that direction.

Darry raises an eye.

I stick out my tongue—he's amused and he knows it.

When I sit down, I realize how tired I am; I spread out on the bench, using Darry's lap as a pillow, and drift in and out of sleep.

"He didn't get much sleep this week," I hear Darry tell Pony a few minutes later. "He hardly slept at all."

"Hhhmmmm," I stir, "you didn't either." He should talk, he got less sleep than me...

I drift off again, listening to the murmurs of Pony and Darry talking and getting along.

xxxx

I wake up and glance around the room. Something feels off, and the looks on my brothers' faces confirm it.

We sit in silence for a while, then Darry says, "We'd better go home. We can't do anything here."

He's right. The best we can do is get some sleep and come back tomorrow. Just wish they'd let us see Johnny… They will tomorrow, or I'll have something to say about it, and I can be just as scary as Darry when I wanna be.

Pony hobbles to the truck behind me and Darry, barely able to keep his eyes open, and when we get there, I have to help him into the seat. He crashes against it, and I move him slightly so I can sit.

Darry's quiet as he drives off, but beneath the worry about Johnny, there's so much relief, every inch of him less tense and more relaxed.

When we get home, I nudge Pony awake. "Hey, Ponyboy, wake up. You still got to get to the house."

"Hmm?" He inches up a bit and falls back against the seat.

I glance to Darry who's grinning about it.

"Oh, come on, Ponyboy." I nudge him more. "We're sleepy, too."

Darry shakes his head a bit and moves to pick Ponyboy up.

"He's getting mighty big to be carried," I tell him, but he doesn't listen to me and carries him anyway.

"He's sure lost a lot of weight," Darry says

I nod firmly in agreement. Darry ain't weak by any standards, but he shouldn't be able to pick him up that effortlessly! I'll make sure he eats lots of cake later.

I follow them into the house. Darry sets Pony down on our the bed, and I plop down beside him.

Darry stays for a moment, watching Pony breathe; the sight comforts him as much as it does me. Pony's home and safe.

"Get some sleep, little buddy," Darry tells me, ruffling my hair.

Don't have to tell me, I think, but I nod and tell him goodnight.

When he's gone, I turn back to Ponyboy.

He's out cold.

I unlace his shoes and pull them off gentle enough not to wake him. The way he's sleeping, it'd be damn near impossible, but it doesn't hurt to be extra careful. I help him out of his shirt too and toss a blanket over him.

I slide down the bed until I'm fully reclined.

"You better not leave us again now, you hear?" I whisper to Ponyboy.

He's dead to the world, but I don't care. "I mean that," I add.

I roll over to my side and sleep through the night for the first time in a week.