Started: November 9 – 10:33 pm

Ended: November 11 – 9:12 pm

Disclaimer: I do not own the Outisders, SE Hinton does! No profit has been gained during the making of this fic.

Notes: I never realized that the notes are gone...ah geez...the disclaimer wasn't there either! And my quotes! Damn it. Anyways, I am done revising. Thank you to whatcoloristhesky and IAmOnlyMe for pointing out vocabulary mistakes and unrealistic moments. I tried to clear that up, but if there is still more mistakes - PLEASE tell me. I'll make more transitions if needed to!

And for reviewers: Thank you for taking time out of your day to give me feedback. But, please, be mature (no name calling, making a review just to cuss me out, ect.) and tell me why you love/hate my fic!

"When mistakes are made, have you not noticed that the person most people blame is themselves?" - C. Afareen

It ain't your fault

I bent over until my chest touched my knees. My throat started to burn and the coughing didn't make it any better. Holding on to my throat, I started to feel that other burning feeling my hands.

I dropped the cancer stick to the floor, watching it make ashes on the rug through blurry eyes. I uncovered my mouth and tightly held onto my throbbing red hand.

"Gosh, how does Pony do this?" I felt a sharp sting go through me as I said that name. My already watering eyes watered more, but my coughing started to go away.

I started to breathe easier, head bent and foot lightly kicking the cancer stick. The smoke had died and the light was fading.

I sat back and slouched in the couch. I didn't really feel like getting up and throwing it in the can. Sure, it's gonna put my mind off of the body lying in that hospital bed for a few seconds…but trying to deny that fact is harder than what people say.

And by God, I'm tired of trying to not think about it.

And by God…I need another stick.

I closed my eyes, and not for the first time in my cursed life, I felt years beyond my age.

I slammed my hand on top of the Camel beside me, eyes now open and teeth gritted. Dumping it all out, there was only a few that wasn't crushed. My hands were shaking when I grabbed one and lit it up.

When I took a drag, it was actually pretty calming. My throat itches something awful and it stinks like hell, but it's still good. "Now I just need a few beers and I'll look like a damn good greaser," I muttered. Huh, why don't I have any beer?

Oh, wait…the last time I drank beer was a few days after Pony's disappearance. Soda literally knocked it outta my hands and threatened to kill me thirty different ways with a bottle cap if he ever catches me with a beer. I've been off with him ever since. He's pretty scary when he's mad. And after what happened with Pony, I'd never be able to…

What I hate with this is that Soda would've laughed. He would've grinned, said "don't have mom 'n' dad catch ya. They'll skin your hide"...but that was before mom and dad died. Maybe if I haven't had so much booze when I found out...maybe if he never saw me that day...he would still be laughing.

I blew out a ring of smoke, taking the stick out of my mouth for a few seconds.

Then again, he still wouldn't have laughed. This kinda situation wouldn't make any difference, would it? Our kid brother, just fourteen years old and a runaway convict, was out there alone with a kid only two years older than himself. Fucking comforting when that sixteen year old is wanted for second degree murder. And, oh what's this? I care about that sixteen year old, too!

Knock, Knock

I froze.

Knocking? The only time the door has ever been knocked on was when Social Services visited…and…

My hand was starting to shake again.

I took the stick out of mouth, crushing it against the box. Everything seemed to be in slow motion as I stood up and made my way to the door. The suddenly dull colors seemed to press all around me and I felt like I was in the movie.

You know how the movies are black and white. And then, the star of the show gets the bad news. But it's like he knows he's gonna get bad news. Then he seems to just trudge his way over to his destination; and you suddenly notice all of the shadows just hiding in the background. It seemed to surround him.

It seemed to surround me.

Jesus, I don't know what's worse – that I couldn't feel what I wanted to or I could simply feel everything. And when I mean everything, I mean the way my chest was about to burst open. I mean that if I took a breath, I know I would be choking on my own air.

I mean all those foreboding feelings I wasn't able to feel that day.

"Are you Mr. Curtis?"

I laid my head against the door, hand clutching the knob and my arm above my head. I didn't want to open the door. I knew what was lying on the other side – this time I did. But I wish I hadn't.

"I'm sorry, but…"

It was going to happen all over again.

"Darry? Soda? You guys there?"

I threw the door open, my pulse racing even more if that's possible. "Two Bit!?" His hand was poised to knock again. He was leaning against the screen door, eyebrows raised in surprise and looking pretty unsure of himself. That's what got me. He looked unsure. It wasn't the first time I saw him like this, but it's been a real long time.

"Hey to you too, Darry. You look like ya ran all the way over here," he said, grinning. Even his grin looked hesitant.

"Since when did you knock on the door, Two Bit?" I asked, sighing, rubbing my forehead. All of this anxiety because Two Bit decided to knock on the door like any other stranger.

"Well…" he tilted his head down, not meeting my eyes, "…I ain't the type to disturb ya at a time like this." His tone was a notch higher, he was running a hand through his hair, his leg kept shaking – but he was looking to his right. He was lying and telling the truth. But he was never this obvious. That and I never felt worried when he lied.

"Can I come in?" I snapped out of it.

"You don't need an invitation, ya moron," I replied, getting out of his way so he can go through.

"Just makin' sure, man. Don't bite my head off," he said, starting to grin again. But he still wasn't looking at me.

"I will if ya ever knock on my door again," I muttered to myself, making sure Two Bit didn't hear.

"So, why ya here and not at work? It's a Thursday, right?" Two Bit asked. He was looking at the cancer sticks.

"Pony's being discharged at six, Soda's with him right now. Boss said he'd give me a day off for today to take care of him – but only today," I replied. He plopped down in the armchair, still staring at the couch.

"It's a bit too early to let the kid go, though," he whispered. I frowned at Two Bit. He was slouching in his chair. Nothing new or surprising, he slouches all around the clock. But he looks a bit…defeated? No, not that. Guilty. He looked guilty and just about to kill himself.

My eyes widened and I just knew I right about turned pale.

No, not Two Bit…not that happy-go-lucky guy that's just as crazy as Soda…

"Darry? Man, you look like you just seen a ghost!" I shook my head and focused of Two Bit. That look I saw just seconds before was gone and now he looked worried.

I got rid of that uneasy feeling. It's just the trick of the light, that's all. "The doctor's gonna personally see him every day," I said. Even I had to smile at that even with all these stupid thoughts in my head. I never thought I'd see the day when a doctor was nice to a greaser.

"You ain't a woofin'!?" For a split second, Two Bit looked at my face. But for a split second, only.

"No, I'm not. The guy's from the country side, that's why." Two Bit nodded, like that explained everything. And, really, it did explain everything.

There were a few moments of silence, where I stared at Two Bit from the door way and he tried to avoid my stare.

Finally, he started to speak. "Hey, since when did you smoke?" An amused smirk was on his face. That comforted me a bit. "And why Camel? I don't think Soda and…" The smirk suddenly disappeared. "...Pone would fancy adding lung cancer to your ever growing list of busted backs." His voice had cracked when he was about to say Pony's name. God, is he that torn up over him? While he was real broken up about it, he didn't even seem this bad when Johnny and Dally died. Though, there wasn't even the time to actually worry about that. But still...is there a reason why?

I shook my head. I'll have to figure that out later. "I smoked since now. And Camel's stronger than your Kools." A bit like alcohol. But I couldn't add that.

He looked at me with this weird look. That was when I was hit with this ugly feeling – something was gonna happen. Not too big, but not too small neither. "Your smoking 'cause of Ponyboy," he said, finally looking me in the eyes. I had to force myself not to look away this time, though. They were just so blank.

So, instead, I glared at him. I'd never tell him, but that hit a soft spot. "That's none of your business," I snapped.

"It is when you're smoking. What're you gonna do next, huh? Drink yourself under the table?" he said softly, his voice taunting. He stood up, looking at me calmly. I felt the exact opposite.

I stood up straighter and took a step closer to him. I was getting pissed off and I knew I showed it. "You should be talking! How many nights a week do you go out and drink until you can't even walk in a straight line!?" I yelled at him.

He walked right up to me, looking at me challengingly this time. My hand found its way to his upper arm – I couldn't help but squeeze it as tightly as I could. He didn't even seem even notice. "At least I'd be able to hold it in. I bet you wouldn't even be able to say two plus two is four. Like Steve said, all brawn 'n' no brains," he said, drawing out the last part slowly, smirking.

And that was it.

I punched him in the stomach. I knew it was gonna leave a nice big bruise. I dunno why I didn't belt him right in the jaw – I guess I didn't wanna leave that much of an injury…not that being hit in the stomach was no better. Though, Two Bit took care of that jaw part when he got mine after a bit of recovery. It didn't even hurt though. It was like he wasn't even trying to hurt me.

But that didn't stop me. And that didn't stop him.

We kept rolling around, having a two-man rumble for God knows long.

But then…

CRASH

Two Bit had forced me against the dining room table, but that made the glass on the side of the dining room table fall. "Fuck!" That damn push is gonna make my already bruised back sore in the morning.

"Damn it," Two Bit breathed, pulling back and laying against the oven.

"Damn it is right, you ass," I replied through gritted teeth, ignoring the ache in my back as I sat up.

Two Bit made this mix between a whimpering and a groaning sound. He bowed his head and his shoulders started to shake. Alarmed, I sat up straighter and stared at Two Bit. "Two Bit?" I said, hesitantly.

"I didn't mean to hurt ya, Darry…" he said. Even his voice was shaking.

I raised an eyebrow. "Two Bit, you're supposed to hurt someone when ya beat it out like we just did," I said, dryly, rubbing my lower back.

"But I wasn't gonna actually fight back!" He looked at me – and I almost fainted.

For the first time since his dad left, ten years since that last time…Two Bit was bawling. Not crying with all those sniffles and noises, but with a river, runny nose, and no sound.

"Two Bit, c'mon, what's wrong?" You're scaring me, I wanted to say. But my pride wouldn't let me. I don't even think my mouth would be able to say anything else other than that.

"I didn't mean to hurt ya. I just wanted to get you riled up, ya know? For you to actually make some cuts and a few bruised ribs if ya can. I haven't felt this guilty since my old man left me, sis, and ma. I didn't want to feel it anymore. I told myself I never would. And I knew that it'd go a bit if I told you…but I didn't want to tell you…" he broke off and his shaking worsened. I was surprised he wasn't stuttering.

"…the gang is all I have, Darry. You guys are all I have. It's like Ma's mind shut down but her body's still runnin' around all over the place and my sister's an A-class slut already. I knew that if I told you…" he took a big breath, looking at me with this desperate look. I couldn't say anything. I had too many things to say.

"…if I told you I knew that Pony wasn't feelin' too hot, especially now, you'd be throwing out my back! Then Soda would be pissed and never talk to me and Steve would follow 'cause he's Soda's damn puppy. I know I deserve it, though. If Pony dies, it'll be all my fault. All my damn fault. And we can't survive without the kid." Two Bit kept rambling more stuff that I wasn't listening to. My mind was numb at this point, but my body seemed to know what it was gonna do.

"We can't have another death, not on top of Dally and Johnny. I even told him that we'd break without Johnny – but truth is, Dally would break without 'im. The rest of us would break without Pony." I was right in front of him. He never broke off his sentence, but he looked like he knew what was coming. He didn't.

"S-So " – finally, a stutter, " – I thought that if you'd beat the tar outta me, it'd be like getting back at me. But it never will, Darry…it's all my fault and it always will be!" Right then, I just wrapped my arms around Two Bit's shoulders. He buried his head in my chest, wetting my shirt.

And I didn't know when, but somewhere along the way…snot and tears were running down my face, too.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so damn sorry…" Two Bit kept repeating, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. It felt like holding a seven year old after a nightmare.

But I couldn't blame him. I was pretty much doing the same thing. "It's alright, Two Bit. It's alright, it'll be fine. S'alright – it's not your fault…it's not your fault."

We stayed like that for a long while.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

The ticking of the clock and Two Bit's occasional sniffles mixed with mine was all I heard for a second. It looked like a mess, too. Overturned chairs, knocked down table, broken glass, displaced rug, and everything else…

"Thanks Darry. I promised myself not to go blabbin' on and on…but I did anyways," Two Bit whispered, his body still shaking. I could tell he stopped crying, though. He never was the one to cry for long.

"Two Bit, this isn't one of those stupid jokes you tell. It's al…" I paused and growled out through gritted teeth, "Don't you dare make me say it again, Keith Mathews," I said tiredly, rubbing Two Bit's back.

Two Bit laughed. "I ain't gonna…" he paused, "…But Darry?" He pulled away, looking directly in my eyes.

"Yea?" I asked, having a clue of what he was about to say.

"Why weren't you beefed at me for not telling you?" I didn't bother to ask for an elaboration.

"Didn't you just hear me? It. Is. Not. Your. Fault. It ain't your fault," I said, emphasizing everything as much as I could to drill it into this guy's thick as hell head.

He sucked in his bottom lip. "Then whose, huh? Tell me that. I don't see anyone else to blame," he muttered the last part out.

I scowled, but refrained from giving him any more injuries. "I knew he was sick. Steve and Soda knew. You knew of course, but even Pony knew too. And we didn't do nothin'. It's not your fault, Two Bit. It's not 'cause it's ours." I didn't know where that came from…but the more I thought about it, the more I knew it was true. It wasn't only Two Bit's – and it wasn't only mine.

With a smile, Two Bit slung an arm on top of my shoulder, his gray eyes honestly sparkling with that familiar gleam for the first time I seen in days.

"Stand together, fall together – ain't that right, Man o' Steel?"

And everything seemed alright all of a sudden…for the first time ever since Pony disappeared, ever since mom and dad's death, I felt like I'd be able to handle it. And that stinging was gone. For both my parents and my kid brother – who will get through it. That kid's a trouper if I ever saw one; stronger than Soda and stronger than me.

I grinned down at Two Bit, starting to feel hopeful. "Always has and always will be, Two Bit, with or without Dally and Johnny. And if you ever call me Man of Steel again, I'll kill you thirty different ways with a bottle cap."

End…

"You cannot change the past. You cannot go back in time and undo all of the mistakes. All you can do is prolong the effects then watch it pass. But I believe that is why one feels so much guilt and regret." - P. V. Jackie

You remember where the last part came from, right? "I'll kill you thirty different ways with a bottle cap"? I know, Darry would more likely say "And if you ever call me Man of Steel again, I'll pound your face to the floor." But I decided why not go back and add what Soda had said to him?

Anyways, going on, I am mostly worried about how I portrayed Darry and Two Bit, Darry's thoughts, and the vocabulary. It's hard to actually portray the Darry and Two Bit Hinton created since she didn't put too much of them in the book. So, I'm hoping I didn't overdo anything...crying scenes aren't my best strength, even though I do believe I have done a good job on that moment. Plus, I'm not from the 60's, far from it in fact, so I don't know if I did the vocab too good.