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Sworn to Silence
Summary: “I’m sorry, guys, but...” The only people who knew are either dead or sworn not to tell. Everyone knows you can’t break a swear. Darrel has been going to the hospital lately, and Soda and Ponyboy don’t know why. That is, until Two-Bit comes to the house with tears threatening to fall.
:Flashback:
“Darry?” Two-Bit asked as he stumbled into the hospital waiting room, holding his arm and sporting a blackening eye. “Why are you here?” Darry was holding a large hand on his side, breathing in small gasps. The younger greaser took a seat to the man he considered a brother. Never has he seen the man with this much worry on his face. Two-Bit was scared. “Dar?”
“Two-Bit, I can’t tell you. Just, do what you need to do,” the older man ordered, lifting to his feet and going to the wall. The rusty haired boy followed, anxious to figure out what was eating his friend.
“Just tell me.”
“If I tell you, you’ll tell my brothers and... hell will break through.” Two-Bit leaned next to the brown haired man, who wasn’t all that old himself.
“Tell me. I promise not to spill the beans.” To prove himself, he stuck out his hand. “I swear.” Two-Bit didn’t know it at the time, but that was the worst thing to say at a time like that. Darry accepted the swear, shook Two-Bit’s hand, and sighed.
“I have a serious ulcer.” Two-Bit felt the blood drain from his face. “A fucking ulcer,” Darry repeated, leaning his forehead onto the wall.
:End Flashback:
Now, the rusty haired greaser was sitting in a hospital room, staring at the lifeless body laying on the bed in front of him. Slowly, his hand stroked the unkempt hair on the man’s head before violently standing up and punching the wall closest to him. How could this happen? He was Superman for Christ’s sake. Superman can’t die!
But that man was not Superman. Darrel was your average roofer who put on the impression of being untouched and invincible. Two-Bit knew he couldn’t stop it. But as he cried into the white wall before him, guilt fell fast onto his shoulders. Darry and he spoke the day after Ponyboy ran away. The older man told him that his ulcer was bleeding more than usual. It was the worry that caused that to happen. Then, Dallas and Johnny passed. Darry didn’t witness Johnny die, but he was there, running, when Dally was shot. Worry made the ulcer pulse and grow. Now, five months after, he was on a white bed, sleeping. It was a sleep that he would never wake from. Two-Bit grabbed Darrel’s hand, gave it a squeeze, and bent down and gave the cold body a hug. He only wished he could of given him that hug earlier.
“I’m going to tell you brother’s what happened,” Two-Bit whispered. “I wish it didn’t end this way.” He paused before giving the body a kiss on the temple. It wasn’t meant to be something special, just something to show his care for the man through-out the years. “You were the brother I always wanted. If only this didn’t happen.” Two-Bit pushed Darry’s hair out of his eyes and turned for the door. Slowly, he ventured through the endless hallways. He wasn’t itching to tell Sodapop or Ponyboy about this, bot no one else could.
Before he left, he needed to know something. A few days ago, he celebrated his nineteenth birthday, so he was old enough to take them in if it was needed. Steve was too young and there was no one else. He was the only one left. Loudly, he rang the bell until a woman came out.
“Yes, sir?” she asked, irritated.
“Darrel Curtis, room 138. I have a question.”
“Yes?”
“His two brothers are seventeen and fourteen. Are they going to be put in a boy’s home if someone doesn’t take them in?” The greaser felt his voice shake as he asked. The woman grew softer as his vulnerable state.
“Yes. Do you know anyone to take them in?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Bring it up with the people from the state who check in with the Curtis family. I’m sure they could help.” He let out a held breath.
“Thanks,” he said, turning on his heels and stalked out of the building, sulking.
The Curtis house was lit up; through the window the rusty haired greaser saw that Sodapop, the oldest, was watching a little television and Ponyboy, the youngest, was finishing up some homework. Two-Bit walked up on the porch and came in. Soda and Pony both looked up and smiled, until they saw that his eyes were red and puffy. Soda was at his side instantly.
“Two-Bit? What’s wrong?” he asked, leading him to the arm chair and sitting him down. Two-Bit leaned into the softness of the arm chair before closing his eyes tight. “Two-Bit?”
“Call Steve. I need to tell you all something.” Soda, without question, went to the kitchen to call Steve. Pony was also standing now. He approached the grief-stricken greaser in the chair. Two-Bit opened his eyes and almost burst out in tears. Quickly, he stood and grabbed Ponyboy into a hug, softly whispering soothing words to himself. Pony was a little scared, but returned the hug. Sodapop returned and saw them standing there. Finally, Two-Bit released the younger boy, who backed up a step. Two-Bit returned to the chair, this time covering his eyes with his hand.
Steve walked in a few minutes later, since Soda said it was urgent. Two-Bit was staring directly ahead, no life in his eyes. Steve asked no questions, just rubbed Two-Bit’s shoulder and gave him a soft smile. “Sit down,” Two-Bit said instantly. “All of you.” Soda and Steve took places next to Ponyboy, who was clueless.
“Shouldn’t we wait till Darry comes home?” he asked. Two-Bit’s eyes grew a little.
“If I could,” Two-Bit began, “I would wait for him.” The greaser got to his feet and walked around the room. “But I can’t. If we wait, we’d be waiting forever.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m going to say this in stages.” Two-Bit sat on the coffee table in front of the rest of the gang. “Five months ago, the hospital told Darry that he had an ulcer.” There was a pause between them all. “It got worse by the day. Only Mr. and Mrs. Curtis and I knew about it. I was sworn to silence.” He stopped again, rubbed his eyes, and gave a long sigh, which released the tears. They fell down his face from under his hand. Sodapop and Ponyboy grew more worried. “I’m sorry, guys, but...” he trailed off a little. Slowly, his head turned to look up, trying to hold back tears. “Darry’s... gone.”