torturednursesdepartment

[torturednursesdepartment]

First chapter of my new fic (:

Steve had always thought of Ponyboy as a tag along, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care about the kid. And after everything the gang went through last month, with losing Johnny and Dally, Steve found he really didn’t even mind the kid tagging along. After that terrible week where the boys were missing, Steve felt better knowing where everyone was, especially the kid.

That’s why he followed Ponyboy out of the school after lunch. He knew Ponyboy has study hall this period but it was clear he was ditching as he made his way quickly across the parking lot.

The kid had been quiet all through lunch, barely picking at his food. When the bell rang, the kid seemed like he had been going to class but made a turn and high tailed it out of the school. Normally, Steve wouldn’t care if the kid ditched, but something was telling him that there was more going on and he didn’t want the kid to be alone. So instead of sitting in history like he was supposed to, Steve was following Ponyboy through the parking lot and down the street.

When Pony turned right on Meadowlark St, Steve knew exactly where he was going.

He kept behind him, but gave him some space until he was sure about where Pony was headed.

Up the hill. Fifth row. Six headstones in. That’s where Johnny Cade, Pony’s best friend is buried. That’s where Ponyboy heads now, slinging off his backpack and leaning his back against the headstone.

Steve watches as Pony sighs, closes his eyes and puts his head down. It’s hard for Steve to imagine what the kid is going through, losing his best friend like that. Steve knew that if the roles were reversed, if it was Soda in that grave and Steve left as the sole survivor, there was no way in hell he’d be able to handle it.

Just the thought of that scenario makes something in Steve’s heart twist. He can’t leave the kid alone like this, so scuffing his feet a bit as he walks so as not to scare the kid, he joins Pony at the grave. Steve drops his backpack next to Pony’s and sits next to him, slapping him on the knee as he takes his spot.

Pony jumps at the contact, his eyes snapping over. He looks genuinely surprised to see Steve of all people sitting next to him.

“Steve, what the hell, man? Did you follow me here?” Pony asks, his voice more tired than annoyed.

“Saw you ditch out, didn’t want you to wander off again”

“I’m going back, I got track today. I just….I just missed Johnny”

“I feel you, man.”

They sit there quietly for a few minutes before Ponyboy speaks up again.

“School is just so…different, without him”

Steve nods. Even though Johnny was pretty quiet, school really does feel different without him. It feels emptier.

“You know you still got me and Two Bit at school. Heck, you’ll probably end up graduating before that moron does”

This tugs a small smile across Pony’s face but it's quickly clouded over as tears well up in his eyes.

Steve wasn’t a big brother, he wasn’t a real brother to anyone. But something, maybe some big brother instinct had rubbed off from Soda, had him grabbing Pony’s shoulder and pulling the kid around to face him.

“It sucks, kid. I miss Johhnycakes too. I even miss ol Dally” Steve says, not really sure how to comfort the kid who'd lost so much.

Pony laughed, sounding more like he was holding back a sob.

“Yeah” he whispered softly, “I miss Dal too”

“You gonna see him too?” Steve asks, beckoning with his head towards the row where Dallas was buried.

Pony nods. Steve stands and offers a hand down to Ponyboy and helps him up. They walk over to Dally’s grave, exactly twenty seven steps from where they buried Johnny Cade.

“Hi Dal” Pony whispers, his hand lightly tracing the top of the headstone. Steve has never been good in situations like this. He didn’t know if talking to a headstone would feel like he was talking to Dallas, if he would be able to get any closure from talking to a piece of granite. But it seems to be soothing Ponyboy a little bit so Steve decides to give it a shot.

“Hey Dallas” He says as he pats the top of the headstone, the way he’d pat the head of a dog, and can’t help but snicker at how Dally would react to having his head pat like he was some mutt.

Steve smirks at Pony “He’d hate this. He call us a bunch of pansies if he could see us right now”

Ponyboy chuckles and rolls his eyes, “He’d sock us a good one”

The two of them share a sad smile, thinking of their departed friend, but Steve thinks Pony’s shoulders seem just a bit more relaxed, like a small weight has been taken off of them.

“You heading back to school?” Steve asks as they head back to Johnny’s grave to collect their stuff.

“In a bit. I’ll be back for track but…” he paused, looking down at his beat up old converse, “I wanna see my mom and dad”

Steve understood the kid would wanna be alone for that. So he just gave Pony a nod and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Okay kid. Your brother picking you up after track?”

Pony nods, “Yeah, Darry said he’d pick me up on his way home from work”

“I’m gonna go hunt down your other brother. Lock down some birthday plans” Steve said, slinging his backpack back over his shoulder.

“Maybe we’ll hit up the drag race. Tagalongs allowed” Steve said with a smirk and a light punch to the kid's shoulder.

This made a ghost of a smile cross Pony’s face. Tomorrow was Soda’s seventeenth birthday. After the tragic past couple months, a birthday was something to truly celebrate.

“Sounds fun” Pony says softly and then adds “Tell him not to put any coloring in dinner tonight”

Steve rolls his eyes, “I’ll tell him but I doubt he’ll listen”

And with a wave over his shoulder, Steve left the cemetery, pausing just before crossing out through the gates to take one more glance up at Ponyboy.

Pony was sitting with his legs crossed in between two headstones, his head bowed and his hands lightly running over the grass. There were a few other people meandering around the cemetery, all here to visit and mourn their own loved ones, but Pony looked like the only person in the world.

Feeling like he was intruding on a personal moment, Steve turned and left. He was too worked up to head back to school, besides, there was no point in going to class this late anyway.

Visiting the cemetery had stirred up too many emotions in Steve. He needed a distraction, something to drown them out. He headed back to school and got in his car, just driving around a bit before he ended up at Bucks. Figuring a beer wouldn’t hurt anything right now, Steve heads in to the empty bar. Hank Williams wails out of a dirty speaker, the afternoon sun shines in through the dirty windows, making the dust sparkle in the air.

“I ain’t open yet, Randle” Buck announces from where he stands behind the bar, polishing glasses.

Steve smirks, “Since when did that ever keep you from pouring drinks?”

Buck chuckles and gestures with his head for Steve to have a seat at the bar. Buck reaches under the bar and pulls out a beer bottle, cracking the top off and sliding it across the bar to Steve.

“I got something for you. Hang here a second” Buck says before disappearing upstairs. Steve sips his beer, hoping it will settle the nerves that were stirred up at the cemetery.

Buck returns, a cowboy hat in his hand. He places it gently down on the counter in front of Steve, looking almost sadly down at it.

“This belonged to Dallas. I thought he’d want you guys to have it” Buck says.

Steve recognized the hat. Dallas would always wear it when he was at the stables, it was old, beat up and dusty. But Steve knew Dally loved this hat, it was one of the few possessions he’d actually cared about it. He remembered Dallas tipping it down and faking a southern drawl, remembered him playfully putting it on Johnny's head after a race. The hardened New York city boy who was a cowboy at heart.

Darry had come to Buck’s the week after Dallas had died and gotten all of Dally’s stuff from his room. There wasn’t much, it barely filled up one box, but Darry had figured the gang would want it. And they had, each of them taking something as a memento of their departed friend.

Steve pulled the hat to him, his fingers lightly tracing over the stitching on the rim. The hat smelled like Dally, cigarettes and horses and spite.

Feeling all the emotions he had hoped to push down start to swell up again and not wanting his beer anymore, Steve tossed some money on the counter and grunted out a thanks to Buck and left, needing to get out of here. He got into his car and gently placed the hat on the passenger seat before he drove away, deciding that he wouldn’t be going to Bucks again anytime soon.

Steve glances at his watch, Soda won’t be off work for another half hour so he decides to stop by his house to drop off his school stuff before heading over to the DX. This plan is quickly derailed when Steve turns into his neighborhood and sees two cops cars sitting outside of his house, their red and blue lights flashing, casting their colorful shadows against the faded white fence that circles his house.

Steve’s stomach clenches. Pop must have done something. Blew off work and got in some drunken bar fight or crashed his car or blew up at his boss. Steve isn’t sure what he did to get the cops called to their house, but Steve does not want to find out. Not after his visit to the cemetery, talking to friends who will never answer, not with Dally’s hat sitting in the passenger seat where Dally himself used to sit, punching anyone who tried to take shotgun. Steve doesn't do well with emotions and this has been an emotional day, he just can't add on to it. So, feeling like an asshole, he just drives by his house. He needs Soda if he’s going to deal with that shit. So that's where he heads, to the DX to see Soda. Soda will keep him calm, help him deal with whatever shit his pop had done now.

Steve parks his car and goes into the DX, expecting Soda to be working the register but he’s surprised to see Gregory, their other coworker, at the front desk. Steve gives him a grunt of a greeting and goes past him out to the garage, figuring Soda must be out there working on one of the cars. But the garage is empty. No cars, no other workers, no Soda.

Feeling frustrated Steve stomps back into the store.

“Soda here?” Steve asks Gregory.

“He left a few minutes ago. Ran out of here like a bat out of hell and left me here by myself” Gregory answered, “You here to cover him?”

Steve scoffs and shakes his head, already heading out the door and back to his car. He checks his watch again, Soda’s shift is almost over, maybe he just needed to head out a few minutes early today.

Steve pulls up to the Curtis house, surprised to see Darry’s truck in the driveway. Usually Darry is the last one home so it’s weird that he’d be home in the middle of the day.

Steve shoulders his backpack and takes Dally’s hat and heads up to the door, not bothering to knock before swinging the door open, catching it before it slams into the wall.

“Steve!” Soda yells and before he’s fully stepped into the house, Soda is squeezing the daylights out of him.

Surprised at Soda’s sudden display of affection, Steve pats him on the back, and looks over to Darry for help. But Darry is looking at Steve as if he’d just seen a ghost.

“Steve? But..what the hell are you doing here?” Darry stuttered as he stood up from where he’d been sitting on the couch. Now Steve knew something really was wrong, Darry never stuttered, he never got flustered. But he’s confused on what was wrong, Soda and Darry were acting like Steve had just come back from the dead or something.

“What’s the matter with you two?” Steve asks.

“We thought you were gone!” Soda all but sobs, clenching the back of Steve’s shirt in his hand.

“Gone? What the hell are you talking about?” Steve asks, shoving Soda away from him to look him in the eyes. Was this some kind of sick joke? But Soda’s eyes are serious, with no hint of the laughter that normally danced there.

Darry sits back down with a sigh and Steve finally steps fully into the house, dropping Dally’s hat onto the recliner and coming to stand across the coffee table from Darry. Soda closes the door and stands by Steve’s side, seeming to want to keep him close, like he might disappear any moment.

“The cops, they came by the DX and told Soda that you were missing” Darry says.

“How the hell could I be missing? I'm right here!” Steve scoffs, annoyed.

Soda shakes his head, his hand coming out to grip Steve’s arm, “Steve, you don’t get it. The cops said someone saw you get taken. ”

“Taken?” Steve says, a nervous feeling starting to settle on him.

Soda nods, gravely serious, “There was a witness. Said they saw you get knocked in the head and dragged off by some guy”

Darry was eyeing Steve, the way he eyed his brothers after a rumble, looking him up and down for any signs of injury.

Something clicks in Steve’s brain, “That must be why there were cops outside of my house!”

Darry nods, “Soda called me after the cops called the DX asking about you, they asked when we last saw you, where you lived, all that kind of stuff. I came straight home and the cops are out looking for you right now”

“They said there was blood all over the ground, I was real worried you were hurt” Soda says, his eyes scanning Steve’s face, a look of relief coming over him when he sees that Steve doesn't appear to be hurt.

“Well I'm fine. I don't know who got snatched but it sure as hell wasn’t me. I haven't had any run-ins with anyone all day” Steve assures them.

Soda lets out a sigh of relief and plops down on the couch next to his brother.

“Besides, why the hell would someone try to grab me? I’m too mean to be kidnapped” Steve tried to joke to lighten the mood, “If someone was going to go after any of us, it would be the kid”

“Don’t even joke about that, Steve” Darry snaps, running hand over his face.

“Wait a second, why’d they think it was me that got taken?” Steves asks, still confused about this whole situation.

“Well the witness didn't say it was you specifically. Just that they saw some kid get grabbed. But when the cops got there they said they found your backpack. Your name was on the notebooks inside” Soda says, looking up at Steve from the couch.

“My backpack is right here though” Steve says, lifting his shoulder in demonstration. Something seemed off though, the weight he’d grown accustomed to seemed different.

Dread settled in Steve’s stomach. Steve hoped against hope that he's wrong as a twisted thought plants itself in his head. With shaking hands, he slides the backpack off of his shoulders and opens it. Unable to form a sentence through the panic that’s coursing through his brain, Steve silently pulls out a notebook and shows it to Darry and Soda.

The blood drains out of Darry’s face as he reads the name on the notebook. There, written in neat, black ink is the name: Ponyboy Curtis

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65834713/chapters/169575841

[torturednursesdepartment]

May I just add from one of my shifts this weekend…the patient who walked into ER with a knife sticking out of their chest after a juggling trick gone wrong. And I immediately thought of Two Bit lol

Things that have happened on my ER shifts so far that I’m assigning to each of the outsiders characters:

Patient caught sitting on toilet and smoking cigarette in ER bathroom: literally almost all of them (pony, Johnny, DALLY, Steve)

Patient was cleared to go home (they come to er a lot, all their tests were A okay) they left, went outside into the cold, came back in and checked right back in: Two Bit

Adorable baby/toddler who was playing with her older brother and he accidentally closed her finger in the door. Her nail was all broken and we had to give her two stitches (she screamed at me the whole time): Soda and Ponyboy as kiddos (soda was the door closer)

Patient was had ‘low blood sugar at home’ (glucose was 70) he was given Oreos and a sprite and was sent home 😂: Johnny cause my boy don’t eat enough give him snacks

Teenage patient threatened his mom because she caught him stealing money from her purse ‘for McDonald’s’ and she said no: dally

Patient was told he was exposed to STD so he came to ER to be tested: Two Bit

Dislocated shoulder requiring drugz to replace it and the ER doc pulling with the force of his entire body: Steve

Patient throwing up for four days straight, couldn’t keep food down and was super dehydrated, threw up some blood from puking too hard and his wife made him come to ER: Darry (and feat Betty) (in reality she would’ve treated him for nausea and hydration at home and days before and he would not get this ill but)

My healthcare girlies please enjoy (blood glucose of 70 is my personal fav) @tragicallyuncreative @torturednursesdepartment

[torturednursesdepartment]

Two new chapters posted because it ended up being really long and got split up. Take a read if you’re interested (:

[torturednursesdepartment]

‘I can do it with a broken heart’ is so Darry Curtis coded

[torturednursesdepartment]

I’m new here and I don’t really know how tumblr works lol. Idk if I’m doing this right but this is a little story I wrote and wanted to share (:

Deaths at my door

Death is a cat. If not Death, then a grim reaper of sorts. Ponyboy is sure of it. He’s seen the cat, on more than one occasion but only now is he realizing what it means.

The cat is black, darker than midnight. It’s eyes are a soft green that seem to glow, blinking up out of the darkness surrounding them. The cat walks slowly, flicking its tail as it casually walks around, looking to guide its next victim to the afterlife.

The first time Ponyboy saw the cat he was ten. He’d been at school, swinging on the swings by himself while he waited for Soda to come walk him home. The black cat had slunk onto the playground, treading softly through the wood chips and then sitting beneath the shade of the slide. Pony had watched the cat lie down from the swings, the cat crossing its front legs and resting its head upon them. Mr. Green, the elementary school principal, had come whistling out of the building and twirling his keys around on his finger as he headed to the parking lot. He lifted a hand in greeting to Ponyboy, who gave him a shy wave back. Movement caught his eye as the cat stretched, and then trodded lightly from its spot and after the principal. Mr. Green died of a stroke that night.

Next was a few years later, on Darry’s birthday. Pony guiltily shifted foot to foot, following his parents to the door as they put on their coats to go pick up the frosting he’d forgotten to get on his way home. As his dad opened the door, Pony saw the cat slinking past the car, rubbing against it like it might rub against the leg of it’s beloved owner. The neighborhood was full of strays so Pony truly didn’t think it was off to see a cat out and about. His parents didn’t even see it as they made their way out the door to the car, assuring him it was okay that he forgot the frosting. That day had blown Pony’s world apart and when he finally started to haphazardly put himself back together, he didn't even remember seeing the cat sitting on the sidewalk looking down the road, almost as if it was watching his parents car drive off.

The cat appeared again. As Pony and Johnny walked around the park, Pony’s heart stinging more than his cheek from Darry’s backhand, a figure slowly darted ahead of them. The park is dark since one of the street lights is out. It looks like the shadows themselves have to come to life and are moving. The darkness takes form and Pony can see it’s just a cat. The cat moves silently, one with the dark night before stopping near the fountain. It turns and blinks solemnly at Pony, the green eyes eerily glowing despite any nearby light sources. And then it melts back into the darkness, gone before they reach the jungle gym and climb up to smoke a cigarette, hoping to cool off before heading back home. That night was another tragic one, a domino that fell and continued to knock down the pillars that Pony had shakily put back up after his parents died. A terrible night full of terrible memories. The hit, the drowning, the murder all kept colliding in his mind, trying to take up front and center until the memories themselves seemed to rumble with each other, pushing and shoving at each other. He wanted to block them all out. He didn’t want to remember anything about that horrible, awful night. So he didn’t. He shut his mind off, locking the memories up in a box and throwing the key off a chasm in his mind. It helped. He forgot a lot of small details about that night. He even forgot about the cat.

Until Windrixville. Up on the hill, hidden in the little church, Pony and Johnny had seen plenty of little critters. A barn owl, a rabbit, a few mice. And on that last day there, as Pony sat on the back step smoking a cigarette while Johnny napped inside, a black cat, sitting serenely in the tree line. Pony almost would have thought it was a statue if not for the occasional flick of the tail. A feeling of deja vu washed over Pony, like a ghost passing by behind him, trailing its icy fingers along the back of his neck and sending goosebumps up and down his arms. Now Ponyboy knew he had seen the cat before. He didn’t know how it was possible that a cat could get from Tulsa to Windrixville but Pony knew all the way in his bones that the cat was the same.

An omen. A death cat. Taunting Ponyboy just before a tragedy strikes.

Thoughts of the death cat burn up with the church as the adrenaline pushes all other thoughts from Pony’s head.

Maybe it’s the smoke he inhaled, or the concussion he sustained in the rumble but Pony can’t run straight as he follows the gang to the park to save Dally. Not only can he not run straight, but he can’t think straight. Grief and fear swirl in his mind, filling it the way the smoke had filled the church. As he stumbles along after his brothers, he fears he might be seeing things as a shadow weaves in and out of his vision. Green eyes meet his own in the dark. ‘Please, not another one’ Pony silently begs, but the eyes blink, disappearing into the dark face that matches the surrounding darkness. Gun shots ring out, a body falls, and as Pony’s vision starts to fade, like he's looking down a long tunnel, he can almost see a shadow of a cat leading the shadow of a boy out of the tunnel, into the light. Someone yells and the ground rushes up to meet him.

Years and years pass. Pony grows up. He grows old. He grows so old that now his bones seem to creak with every movement, his skin brittle and delicate. His life has gone by, and what a life it’s been.

Ponyboy became a teacher, inspiring his students with his creative writing as well as his kindness. He wrote stories and drew sunsets. He got married and had two beautiful children, who now have children of their own. His brothers had been there for him through it all, even as they each had wives and children of their own, their loyalty to each other never waivered. Ponyboy’s life was wrapped up in love, filled with laughter and good times from his friends and family.

He’d seen the cat many times since he was a kid. He saw it before Sodapop died, jumping off of Soda’s truck and quietly padding across the parking lot of the diner that Pony and Soda met at for their weekly dinner. Soda never made it home that night. He saw it again, perched on Darry’s porch, licking it’s paw, the morning Darry had a heart attack. He saw it through his kitchen window while washing dishes the night before his sweet wife had succumbed to her cancer.

Ponyboy didn’t fear the cat anymore, like he had when he was younger. If anything, he was grateful to it. He was glad that his loved ones weren’t alone as they passed into the afterlife, that they had a guide to show them the way. And seeing the cat, while making his heart clench at his impending loss, also gave him the chance to say goodbye, knowing that its presence was signaling the departure of a loved one.

A cool October morning, Pony wakes before the sun is up, as he often does these days. He hobbles to the living room but pauses at the door. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he feels like there’s a presence at the door. He opened the door, and there it was. Sitting on the welcome mat, eyes blinking softly up at him. Pony opened the door wider and stepped aside, allowing the cat in as one would welcome in an old friend. The cat enters, quietly trodding into his home and hopping up onto the couch. It settles there, comfortable as can be, and Pony can’t help but be relieved to see the cat, knowing that this time it's here for him, here to bring him home.

That night Pony lies in his bed, knowing his time is near. The cat lays on the bed at his feet where it had settled after it had rubbed it’s soft head against his, a low purr emitting and Pony felt like he had felt it vibrate in his own chest. He’s glad he’s not alone, as he has been since his wife passed. He sighs, a content sound. The cat shifts, stretches and then settles right on his chest, curling up there. Pony lifts a frail hand and gently strokes the cat, closing his eyes as his fingers trail through the soft fur. The cat is purring softly, feeling warm against him. The warmth spreads. It goes from his chest all through his body, all the way to the tips of his toes.

It’s time. It’s time for Ponyboy to go home.