Helpless

Blood

Ponyboy POV:

It's blood, it's blood, it's blood

I had started coughing and went to cover my mouth, and suddenly my hands were spotted with red that burst from my lips before I could force it back down.

That's what's been in my throat, that's what I've been swallowing, my own blood...

The scream had escaped from my throat when I'd caught sight of my hands.

"Pony, Ponyboy, what's wrong?" Soda rushed over, catching sight of my hands and the red clinging to my lips and coating my teeth and suddenly understanding. "Oh Christ...okay. Okay, relax, all right?" He took my hands and began wiping them off with his shirt. "You're in a hospital. They'll take care of you. And I'm here, me and Darry both. It's okay, kid, hear me? Just relax, Pony..."

"What's going on?" Darry demanded, racing back in. I was sobbing by then.

"I can't do this Soda, I can't even try to do this, I'm too scared to do this, this can't be happening this is a bad dream, it's the one that I can never remember, I'll wake up and I won't remember this..." I was weeping. Soda finished drying off my hands and rubbed my arm, his own eyes filled, shushing me.

"It's all right, kiddo. It's gonna be all right. Please don't cry, please, Pon. Huh? You're gonna be okay. We won't let anything happen to you."

"I've been coughing up blood, Soda!" I shrieked at my brother. "Nothing is okay!"

Darry suddenly laid a hand on my chest and pushed me down against the mattress. "You're gonna knock your tubes out," he murmured, "you need to lie still."

"What's going on here?" the doctor demanded as a pale Two-Bit followed him into the room.

"He spat up blood," Soda answered for me, beginning to stroke my hair back slowly. Normally his touch was all it took for me to relax, but not this time; I was trembling and fighting to calm down. I didn't want to be in pieces in front of Steve, Two-Bit, and the doctor.

The doctor frowned, then took out a handkerchief and held it up to my mouth. "Cough," he commanded. I obeyed. It felt like everyone in the room was holding their breath as he drew it away.

It was red.

"This may be farther along than I thought," the doctor frowned.

"You don't have any idea what's really happening with him, do you?" Darry snapped.

I just closed my eyes again as my oldest brother began to argue with him. I'd known that this wasn't going to be easy from the moment the doctor had diagnosed me, but this was worse than I thought. I was choking, coughing, swallowing my own blood. My lungs were already deteriorating.

"Pony?" Soda leaned over. I opened my eyes and stared at him; my confident, reckless, gentle brother who meant more to me than anyone. Unable to stop weeping, I reached out and let him wrap his arms around me, taking care not to lift me high enough to jostle my tubes. The room suddenly grew quiet: I hadn't noticed the others slip out into the hall.

"I don't wanna die," I sobbed into my brother's shoulder, breathing in the smell of him; of gasoline, sweat, cheap cologne, tobacco, sweetness. He squeezed my shoulders as he held me, and I wanted to imagine that I was home and this was a nightmare I had just started from and now everything was going to be okay just because Soda was with me.

"You won't," Soda said through gritted teeth, "You won't die. I won't let you."

"But there's nothing you can do..."

"Yes, there is. We'll get you help. We'll get you through this."

I wept harder. Soda just held me and let me cry.

I started thinking about everything the doctor had said, starting from the cancer point, but I couldn't remember very much. Darry had asked the questions: he'd been the voice of reason.

But I'd seen how white he was.

I understood him better; I knew why he had fled the room after the doctor had left. He was scared, maybe as scared as I was, because he was always worrying about losing someone who he loved the way he'd lost our parents. For the first time I was glad too. Because I knew that, although he'd made me crazy with his nagging, he'd never, ever give up on me.

And Soda wouldn't either, I thought as my sobs slowed and my brother started talking in a low, steady voice, telling me that I'd be all right. Soda'll help me fight. And Two-Bit'll crack jokes. And Steve... ..well, maybe Steve would shutup for once.

I let go of Soda and lay back down, wiping my eyes. I felt over the initial panic, the same way I had when I'd leaned on Johnny's shoulder and cried myself to sleep in Windrixville. I'd be stronger now.

"Y'all okay?" Darry asked, poking his head in. Soda studied me, and I forced a weak smile, feeling some of my strength returning.

"Yeah," I said softly. Soda smiled; another sign of relief.

"I talked to the doc," my oldest brother began, "and it's common with your type of cancer to spit up some blood once and awhile."

I nodded and rubbed my eyes. I wanted to sleep; but not here.

"When can I go home?"

"Tomorrow."

"Why not now?"

"They need to make sure you can breathe on your own."

Two-Bit suddenly flew into the room, flung himself against the wall and hid out of sight from the hallway. "Shhhh," he hissed, peering around the hallway like a bad actor in a spy movie.

"Glory Two-Bit, you'd think someone was after ya," Soda laughed, messing my hair.

"Doc said family only," he grinned. "But when he turned I ran."

"Can Steve come in?" I asked Darry. He frowned.

"I don't know..."

"Come on Dar," Soda began to regain some of his good humor, "if he wants Steve, let him in."

Darry rolled his eyes, stuck his head into the hallway, grabbed Steve by the shirt and yanked him inside, lamming the door before the doctor could realize what we were up to.

"You're looking better, Ponyboy," Two-Bit said, punching my shoulder affectionately. And looking around at the gang I felt better too: I wasn't alone. I could do this. I'd survived my parents' death, the Socs, and losing Johnny and Dally.

I could beat cancer.