Never Again


You REALLY might want to read this

First off, read the time was 7:49 at night first off and then read this, otherwise you will probably be lost.

This is P.O.V. of the girl that was holding Pony's hand when he died.

This is not a One-shot, there will be maybe two more chapters from Soda and Darry's point of view. This is really to fill in what Pony missed.

Okay, now here are some notes you don't have to read…

This P.O.V. came out a little bad because this girl never meet Pony before. Basically it is the prelude to the next two chapters. I think it was good the other story was one-shot so sorry if I kill it, I just gotta problem with letting things die. Except for my favorite character, I always have to kill them off.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Outsiders.

Chapter 1: Melting into Crimson

I've never seen someone die before. I've learned about it, seen pictures and remakes on television and even heard the flat line when I used to work at the hospital but never seen anyone die…

The kid that lay in front of me, he was just that, a kid. He looked like he was from the wrong side of town, a greaser. Probably did something stupid to get himself into this mess, I didn't doubt it. Yet he couldn't be any older than sixteen and here he lay with a piece of metal embedded in his shoulder from the crash. He was losing blood fast, and I didn't know what else to do but shove my jacket under his head and hold his hand.

What else can you do for a kid who is about to lose everything? People began to surround us and I didn't know where from. They made no motion to help really, but then there wasn't much they could do.

I gave his hand a squeeze and wondered if he was awake—no, his eyes-lids were fluttering open and closed—if he was conscious and aware.

After an eternity apprehensive waiting a police poked through the crowd.

"He's dying," Some random shrill voice shot up and even I flinched, "He is losing blood too fast! The ambulance won't make it!"

"Was there anyone else in the crash?" The police asked not even sparing the kid a second glance.

"We didn't find anyone…" A male from the crowd this time spoke up.

The blood was spreading on the ground, almost like the boy was melting into crimson. It was sickly—I felt sick. I turned my head away even as the blood slowly crawled out to meet my knees.

"He must have been doing some reckless stunt, took the corner too sharp. The rain…" I said attempting not to look back his way but I didn't leave him.

If I was scared, what was he?

A morbid silence developed for a few moments, but then he spoke, his voice broken.

"I wasn't drivin'"

His eyes fluttered shut for good this time and everyone shifted uneasily.

"Look," The cop froze for a minute staring down at the greaser, "Look for whoever else was in that car. Come on!" He said dispersing half the crowd. He himself also vanished and the rain starting coming down harder.

The fire that had started from the crash was now dimming down…just like the greaser's life.

Everyone was quiet, and I didn't open my mouth. There wasn't anything to say. I wouldn't lie and say he was going to be all right, he wouldn't be—never again.

For a few seconds, nothing happened, well the kid continued on his way out…

The rain just pattered down from the dark sky.

"Johnny," His voice was so light, so weak I knew it wouldn't be too much longer.

I shut my eyes tight and focused on holding his hands, rubbing any warmth into it I could. It was so cold…

People started talking, and I overheard they found the driver—he was calling the family now. This would break somebody's heart…

He repeated that name a few more times, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, I could only imagine who this Johnny was.

"Pon-Ponyboy!" Someone slipped through the crowd and dived to his side. I immediately scooted over—but didn't let go of his hands afraid he'd slip away instantly if I did.

I hardly looked at the man, but noticed he was a greaser from the way he dressed. The leather jacket and boots—even the side burns. Yet he didn't look like a tough punk that just got out of prison, he was too upset to keep up that shield.

"Ponyboy it's me Two-Bit! Shoot, I know you can hear me kid, you gotta hold on now!" The older greaser shook his arm like he was trying to wake him up.

His gray eyes were stormy, solemn and worried but reasonably unreadable. A small bit of blood was trickling from his forehead and I knew this was Ponyboy's friend…that was good…it is a shame to die amongst strangers.

"Listen man, an ambulance is coming. Hold on now—you better not die on me." He said again just as the police from earlier made a grab with the help of the crowd. I looked behind me to see him.

The greaser stood at 6 feet and put up a nasty fight. He wasn't leaving, not now. I agreed, why make him leave! What difference would it make now!

"Two-Bit." The boy spoke up and the struggling stopped.

Two-Bit dropped to his knees just as everyone let him go. He inched forward and placed both hands on Ponyboy's arm—a comfort, but I could see, he was shaking. Years in the street didn't prepare him for this, maybe murder and a few good rumbles here and there but not this…not to a kid.

"Two-Bit… That girl in the other car is she a-" He stopped shuddering uncontrollably until his head rolled back.

He was fading fast, and Two-Bit knew it too. He kept shaking his head, like to wake up from a dream. Like maybe if he denied it long enough it wouldn't be true.

"That girl in the other car is alright Ponyboy, don't you worry now. You will be too, okay, specialists are coming right now kid." He broke off at the end and took a shaky breath.

He must have been restraining himself, trying to get it into his head that he was helpless at this point.

"Tuff." Ponyboy replied in almost a whisper and his head rolled to the left side and he went limp.

Two-Bit tensed up and looked around the crowd for a minute. "Fuck," He said not caring if he woke the dead, "Fuck, damn, not you too kid! Where the fuck is Darry? And Soda, why the hell aren't they here yet!" He nearly was screaming looking at the blank faces as if these people he spoke of would be pushing through them anytime soon.

"You're brothers are coming too now, so you gotta hold on for them." He said toward Ponyboy, his anger draining quickly enough.

He shut his eyes and hesitated on getting up. It was one hell of an internal struggle, and I'm sure he felt like crying—I did.

The kid let out a breath, and not like a sigh or regular breath—it was different. It sounded choked and at the same time like a basketball deflating. And then there weren't any more to follow.

I glanced at Two-Bit, his eyes were still closed, and his jaw was set.

"Call it," A paramedic had finally showed up, and he didn't even have to do much more than look.

"He isn't dead yet," I shouted louder than expected and what I said wasn't that planned either.

The paramedic waited a minute later while making his way up to the boy's left side, and Ponyboy was still. He was limp and cold and I felt the blood draining from my face.

Everyone went quiet and began to disperse except for myself, Two-Bit, and the paramedic.

"Call it," He said in a softer tone while feeling for a pulse in Ponyboy's neck.

I looked at my watch and memorized the sight.

"Seven Forty Nine." I read.

7:49 at night, post midday.

Two-Bit didn't move, he didn't open his eyes or shift his bite. The paramedic nodded gravely, keeping his own eyes down. I wasn't exactly about to meet them, my heart was pounding.

I've never seen someone die before. I've learned about it, seen pictures and remakes on television and even heard the flat line when I used to work at the hospital but never seen anyone die…

Okay, so maybe Soda and Darry's P.O.V.'s will be better. Either way tell me what you think of this one. Just one button-- submit review, or favorites, or an email—basically so I know I'm not talking to myself here. Chapter 2: Soda's P.O.V. The Point of Separation