Come Down From Your Fences

Chapter 1

Notes: This was originally posted on ff.net. I started writing it in 2006 and finished in 2009. I do want readers to know it doesn't have a true ending. I wound up moving onto another fandom and lost the focus to properly finish the plot, but I did include two epilogues that show what my intention was and gives the characters some closure.

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The colors were vivid and frightening, swirling and suffocating. Blacks, grays and blues merged and melted, bleeding into a deep, dark red. It was the red that was the worst. The red that pulsed and mocked. The red that was everywhere, spreading over everything. A plague that could not be stopped.

They were dead, nothing would change that. That word echoed and taunted, filling the silence.

Dead ... Dead ... Dead ... Dead ... Dead ...Dead

The red flickered and snapped, transforming into flames. The heat was intense, like in the church, but not. He tried to pull away, to escape - but he couldn't. This heat was on the inside, hollowing him out until all that was left was ash.

A dark shadow passed by him. Terrified, he struck out, pushing and punching. It was coming for him. He was next.

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"Ow!" Sodapop Curtis shouted as he tried to duck his younger brother's fists. This night was going from horrible to downright wretched, Soda thought. His little brother was burning up with fever, lying in an uncomfortable bed in the emergency room.

The doctor was kind, but it had been obviously a long night for him, too. They would get to Ponyboy when they could, he'd told them. Right now they had a much more serious case to deal with that required as many hands as possible - saving Dallas Winston.

Soda didn't understand how there could be anything left to save, he was certain Dally died long before that first shot had been fired. He wanted to die and Dallas Winston usually got what he wanted.

Pony quieted down, or passed out - Soda wasn't sure which. He sighed heavily and rested his head on the edge of the stiff mattress. He had his own aches and pains from the rumble, but they didn't matter.

Rumble, hell, Soda thought, that was a lifetime ago. None of that matters now.

Was it only two hours ago that they had been celebrating their victory? Only two hours ago that they had fought the socs and won, driving them from their turf? Now every minute feel like an hour and every hour felt like a day. Time had slowed to a stop the minute Pony stumbled into the house, bleeding and broken. How had everything gone to hell in such a short time?

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Two-Bit Mathews was a bundle of nervous energy as he sat in the waiting room next to a nearly unconscious Steve Randle who was staring blankly at a poster on the wall. Any other time, Two-Bit would have made a wise-crack about how Steve had suddenly become so interested in breast feeding. Tonight, however, Two-Bit didn't feel too much like joking around. He didn't think he would ever feel like laughing again.

"Jeez, how can you be so calm, man?" Two-Bit jumped up and began pacing, chewing on his fingernails - a habit he seemed to have suddenly developed. A habit that reminded him of Johnny whose nails were always bitten to the quick. That thought made him stop in his tracks.

"Johnny," he whispered and Steve looked at him for the first time since they'd gotten there. Two-Bit was startled to see how red his eyes were, as though he had been crying. Greasers like him and Steve didn't cry. Greasers like him and Steve were tough, nothing ever touched them. Two-Bit looked away before Steve could see he had been close to tears, too.