Third in my Steve/Evie stories, after 'The Only Kind' and 'Our Kind'. Reading those first is not compulsory, but might help! I do not own The Outsiders.

This fic comes with a strong warning. It is darker than the first two in the series. Beware of violence, assault on women and non PC (but period correct) attitudes. If you are worried about where it's going, PM and I'll answer questions - it's not all bad stuff, I promise!

As a reminder, the last story finished in early January, 1966.

June 1966...

"Evie? Babe, you're freakin' me right out. Open the door." Steve rattled the handle again.

I couldn't. I just couldn't. I didn't even remember getting here, or why 'here' was the Curtis boys' bathroom, but now that I was safe behind a locked door, I wasn't opening it. Not even for Steve.

I heard their voices rise and fall, Ponyboy defending himself, telling Steve that I looked bad, but he didn't know what was going on. God love him, for lying. He'd known as soon as he saw me. He's a very smart boy.

Steve was getting louder, Soda kept trying to calm him down. Almost situation normal.

Almost.

"Evie? You better not be behind this door, 'cause I swear to God I'm breaking it down."

More discussion, then scratching and clicks. Someone was figuring out how to pick the lock.

The door flew open and Steve barreled in, only to pull up short, eyes wide, as he saw me, huddled in the corner where the tub met the wall.

"Babe?"

Guess he hadn't quite believed Ponyboy.

I closed my eyes.

xxXxx

Four months previously

February 1966...

You ever stop and think about how happy you are? Like, for real? Thanksgiving, maybe, if you're into that kind of thing. But day to day, I bet you're like me and you get on with living.

And we had a lot of living to get on with. Maybe I didn't step back and fully appreciate it, but life was pretty groovy all around.

Especially my own personal love life.

Once Steve and I were back together in January, sneaking around began to get old real quick.

Despite the fact that she was super stressed over planning the wedding, I confronted Sarah and told her I intended Steve to stay over with me – sometimes. I wasn't moving him in, or anything. Not like what she was subjecting me to, with Square Tony. I thought that made me way more reasonable.

Sarah went off like one of those rockets from Cape Canaveral.

But I had a surprising ally. Ma told her she wasn't to stop me. She told her that times were changing and all that she cared about was whether I was happy. She said to Sarah that she might be getting married, but it was still Ma's house.

I don't know who was more shocked, Sarah or me. But I was quick to capitalize on it, you can believe that. It wasn't even about the sex. I just wanted time with Steve.

Okay, it was a little bit about the sex. But the principle was still there; it was my home too.

Fine, maybe it was a lot about the sex. It was winter. It was cold in the Chevy. So sue me.

Later, on the quiet, Ma explained that she worried about us losing someone, the way she'd lost our Dad so young, and she knew that I loved Steve and he loved me. That was all that mattered to her. Way to embrace the sexual revolution, Ma!

Eddie Randle was another matter. If he hadn't caught us together, he might never have known. He was on the road for his job, sometimes for days at a time, although I was unclear on exactly what he did. Something to do with checking on supplies for new roads, or stretches of road that needed repairing. It took him all over, so we could have kept quiet just fine. But Steve preferred to exercise his right to piss off his dad and Eddie found it equally acceptable to try and lay down the law.

In the end, all Eddie could do was make the odd snide comment. I knew he probably thought I was easy. He did not, however, make the mistake of saying so to Steve's face. But, weirdly, it mattered to me.

It took a little time to unpick my feelings about Steve's parents, when we got back together and I met both of them for the first time.

I'd been more than prepared to hate Eddie; from the first time I understood that Steve's regular couch surfing at the Curtis's was because of him, I'd harbored evil thoughts. How could anybody treat my Steve like that? And then, after the revelation that he'd hidden Carol's letters, that he'd lied about her, my disgust had pretty much matched Steve's.

Which was why I found it so hard to accept, when I realized I was beginning to like Eddie.

Oh, he was a nightmare to share a house with, I could see that plain enough. I could also see why Steve had grown into doing his own thing, living his own life.

It was funny in a way, that we were both so independent, for opposite reasons. Me, because Ma had never had rules for me. Steve, because his dad had so many, it was just easier to ignore them wholesale and stay away from home as much as possible.

I thought it was pretty obvious that Eddie's stranglehold on the house, needing everything exactly so, was a reaction to the fact that he'd had no control at all over the biggest thing in his life – his wife falling out of love with him and leaving him.

But, then again, I was no shrink. Maybe his rigid ways were what set her off in the first place.

Either way, between them they'd screwed Steve over, and it was a miracle they hadn't screwed him up. But weirdly, as we got to know each other, I couldn't help liking Eddie. See, Steve looked like his mom, but the things I liked about him – his fierce emotions, his sarcastic humor - were pretty much all things I could see in Eddie too. Not that either of them would ever want to hear that.

And then they got ill. Both Eddie and Steve got the 'flu in February, right after Sarah's wedding. Dozens of people were sick; all the Curtis boys, one after the other. It was all over town.

Somehow, I escaped, which meant I ended up looking after Steve and his dad. I didn't see myself as any kind of Nurse Nancy, but I did the whole 'wet facecloth on the forehead' deal. I even fed them chicken soup. Didn't make it, but I heated it up.

I guess that began to rehabilitate me in Eddie's eyes. Maybe even sluts get a second chance. Afterwards, when he called me 'little darling' it wasn't a sarcastic sneer, it was almost affectionate.

I think for one weekend, Two-Bit and I were the only ones not sneezing and puking. He called by Steve's house, looking for a drinking partner and found me, the only one on their feet. He took one look at Steve - lying on the couch under a blanket - and backed out into the entryway. I followed him.

"He looks like shit," Two-Bit said loudly, as discreet as ever. Steve coughed and told him to go to Hell.

"Nah, it'll just be full of people who look half dead, like you," Two-Bit called back.

"How come you didn't get sick?" I asked him.

"Superior genes," he said, confidently. "Same as you, Tink." He winked. "Come out to play, huh? There's only me and you left in the world. That deserves a drink, if nothing else."

"I can't!" I was pretty sure he was teasing. "What if Steve needs something?"

"I do. I need...something," Steve sounded real pathetic.

"Oh, for the love of God." Two-Bit rolled his eyes, calling out gleefully, "Randle, I'mma take your woman dancin'. What you gonna do about it? Fight me?"

"Go 'way," was Steve's feeble response.

I hit Two-Bit on the arm. "Stop being mean, he feels awful."

"Ew!" Two-Bit shook his sleeve where I'd slapped him. "Have you been touching that specimen in there?"

"If you didn't get it yet, I don't think that put you in danger."

"You got anything to eat?" Two-Bit switched subjects unexpectedly and marched into the kitchen. I caught up with him as he investigated the ice box. He held out a bottle of beer with a wicked grin.

"I have no problem telling Eddie who took that, when he's feeling better," I said. Two-Bit put the beer back and backed away, hands held up, in surrender. I made him coffee instead.

"Hey," he said, as he lounged at the kitchen table, "I forgot to ask. You hear about Sylvia's brother?"

My heart sank. "Buzz?" I asked, imagining him in some horrible prison riot or something equally dramatic.

"Nah. The little one. The one you rescued."

"Trey? Did he get beat up again?"

About a week or so before, Steve and I had been cruising around, busy doing nothing, still high on the fact that we were together again. We spotted Two-Bit walking and slowed down to pick him up. Turned out he'd been over to Kathy's, where she was feeling horrible with the 'flu that had laid most of her family low. He hopped into the Chevy with us, made us laugh with impressions of Marshall whining about his sore throat and stuffed nose.

"Nothing sadder than a hood with the sniffles," he drawled. "You should see him, his hair all droopy... Hey now, what's going on here?" Two-Bit voiced all our thoughts as we turned into a quiet street to see a car drawn up at an awkward angle across the road. There was a knot of figures jostling on the sidewalk.

"Dunno. Looks like Frank Campbell's car." Steve shrugged. He wasn't sufficiently interested to stop, but just as we pulled level, the fight spilled into the road and Steve had to slam on the brakes.

It was pretty uneven for a fight, four or five guys surrounding just one.

"Someone got on Frank's bad side," Two-Bit commented, leaning forward over the front seats to see better. "The Shepard boys've been quiet lately."

Yeah, I thought, without Tim to prod them into action, they'd been laying low. Interesting that it was Frank Campbell that everyone spoke about, as holding the fort, while Tim was gone, not Curly Shepard. I mean, he was younger, but that hadn't stopped Tim taking over the gang, back in the day.

Steve was cussing as he hit reverse, to back up away from the ruckus. And then one of the guys moved, in the process of delivering an almighty kick to the poor guy on the ground and I saw that it was Trey lying there, all curled up.

I yanked open my door and would have been outside, but Steve grabbed my arm.

"What the hell? Evie!"

"That's Trey they're kicking the living shit out of!"

"None of ours," Steve said firmly. "It's Shepard gang business."

"Steve. Two-Bit. Please." I looked at both of them. Now my door was open we could hear the insults and the cat calls – and even some of the blows connecting.

"Tink, he's right. It ain't our business." Two-Bit said calmly. "Trey knew it would come to this, when he double crossed Tim."

"It did already 'come to this'," I snapped. "They jumped him before, more 'n once. You know that. How is it okay that it's happening again?"

"It ain't 'okay', it's just how it is." Steve said.

I glanced from him to the small crowd, just as Frank yanked Trey up, only to smash his elbow into his face and drop him again. I pulled my arm away from Steve and climbed out of the Chevy.

Okay, I wasn't thinking. It made no kind of sense for me to get in the way of the flying fists and feet, but that's exactly what I did.

"Leave him the fuck alone!" I yelled, shoving one of the gang in the side to move him – not very original, but, like I said, not much thought had gone into this. As I jumped into the gap made by the surprised gang member, I realized belatedly it was Curly Shepard that I'd pushed. I actually stood over Trey, one foot either side of his legs as he lay on the road.

"What the hell?" snarled the lanky figure of Frank Campbell, reaching for my arm – to grab me or shove me I wasn't sure, but neither happened, because an almighty roar of:

"Don't you fuckin' well lay a finger on her!" erupted from Steve, who had appeared behind me, with Two-Bit close behind him. Steve threw his arms around me and passed me bodily back to Two-Bit, squaring up to Campbell once he was free of me.

The Shepard boys all looked seriously surprised by this turn of events and they shot glances from one to the other, waiting for someone to tell them what to do.

"Randle, what gives?" Frank Campbell had the nerve to stretch his fingers, like he was the one who was hurting – while Trey coughed weakly and tried to sit up. I shook off Two-Bit's hand and crouched down and helped Trey. He caught his breath as I made him stand up. I pushed him gently behind me.

"You lousy cowards!" I rounded on the gang. "Does it take all of you to beat up on one kid?"

"He's a traitor, he deserves whatever he gets." Curly passed judgement with a snarl.

"Fuck your stupid gang loyalty. He stood by his brother. He was loyal to his brother." I poked Curly hard in the chest. "Even you must recognize that!"

Give him his due, Curly looked a little confused, which was probably as close I was going to get to him understanding my point.

"This broad in charge of your outfit now, Randle?" Frank smiled lazily. "Nice to see who wears the pants in your relationship."

I realized, too late, what a position I'd put Steve – and Two-Bit – in. Shit.

"Screw you, Campbell," I snapped. "Ain't nothing to do with these two. I'mma take Trey from here." I backed Trey up some, away from the crowd. He stumbled a little. I wasn't exactly sure how far I was going to be able to walk him. I told him to go get in the Chevy.

"Pussy. Hiding behind a girl." One of the gang smirked. "Let's slap her out the way."

"No. We don't do that. Hitting chicks. Tim don't like that," the huge guy behind Curly spoke up, his voice a slow rumble.

"Nobody's touching her." Steve bristled.

Frank chuckled. "Okay. We're done, boys. Baby Richardson'll keep for another day. And we wouldn't wanna get Randle in trouble with his boss, would we?" he added slyly.

My heart sank.

Steve punched Frank.

Frank punched Steve.

Two-Bit yanked back the one who'd suggested slapping me, to stop him jumping on Steve's back and sent him to the ground with a slug to the gut, then he was reeling himself from a shove from the massive guy.

I stood in the road, horrified, frustrated and very, very angry.

A car swung around the corner of the street and, finding his way blocked by cars and a mess of bodies, the driver leaned hard on the horn. That brought the fight to a pause. Another car came from the other direction.

The Shepard boys must have decided there was too big an audience now, because they peeled away, slinking back to their car.

Two-Bit and Steve came back towards me, panting and scowling.

"Do you want me to drive?" I asked, watching Steve flex his right hand and inspect his knuckles. He shot me the blackest of looks and flung himself into the driver's seat. I scooted in quick as Steve glanced at Trey in the back seat, his lip curling in disgust. He hit the gas and we took off at speed.

I asked Trey, who was wiping the blood off his split lip with the back of his hand, if he wanted to go home. He shook his head. "Sylvia's?" I suggested. He shrugged. He looked like he was trying not to cry, making me wonder how bad he was hurting.

I turned back to Steve, opened my mouth to ask him to head over to Sylvia's place.

He kept his eyes fixed on the road. "I heard," he growled, before I could speak. We went the rest of the way in silence.

"Do you want me to come in?" I watched Trey ease out of the car, outside Sylvia and Danny's pad. He shook his head.

"'S' okay. I got a key, if she ain't home. Uh..." He paused, embarrassed. "Thanks, yeah?"

Two-Bit had been watching Steve carefully. He slid over to the open door, flicking his eyes between us. "Think I'll catch a drink, or three, while I'm in the neighborhood. I can tell Sylvia the kid's at hers."

I didn't blame him for getting out while he could.

Steve took off again.

I sat, feeling the weight of his silence, for as long as I could. But eventually, I had to say something. I turned towards Steve but he beat me to it, snapping:

"You do realize I never had a beef with Frank Campbell? You do realize him and me never had any problem before today?"

I started to answer, but Steve rolled on:

"You also get that I'm now associated with the kid who ratted out Tim Shepard? The kid who double crossed the whole fuckin' Shepard gang? Who I just pulled outta their revenge beating?"

"I pulled him out-" I tried to interject.

"And on top of all of that - as if that wasn't enough - you just made me fucking rescue your old boyfriend's brother!"

"Sylvia's brother, too," I objected weakly. "I didn't do it for Buzz, I'm still friends with Sylvia..."

Steve made some kind of growly noise deep in his throat. He threw the Chevy around a corner, making me grab the edge of the seat.

"I don't see what was so wrong," I insisted. "Ain't it some kind of rule? You 'stick together'? 'You take up for your own'."

"He ain't one of my own."

"Well, he is mine." I folded my arms crossly, although I was poised to grab the seat again, if he continued driving like a maniac. I pushed the point. "So I should just ignore, if I see Ponyboy being kicked to death on the street? Because I'm friends with Soda, not him?"

"Not the same."

"It is to me." I was getting more pissed off by the second.

"You. Are. A. Chick." Steve said, like it should be the most obvious thing in the world and the end to all arguments, ever. "You shouldn't be getting involved at all, savvy?"

"Great. Fine. I'll remember that if I ever see you get jumped."

He ignored me. So I pushed the point.

"In fact, I'll just stand and watch. Maybe cheer a little as you get your head kicked in."

Steve ground his teeth, snarled his comeback, "I'll swing by the Shepard hang out right now, shall I? Let Campbell finish what he started? What you started?"

"Sure. Let's do it. Make a left up here."

"Fine."

"Fine."

We rode in silence for a couple of minutes. By this point I had no clue where he was driving to. I bit my lip, starting to cool down some.

"Steve?" No answer. "Steve? Are you still mad at me?"

"Yup."

I waited another minute or so.

"Where are we going?"

He looked around. I realized he'd just been going through the motions of driving, no destination in mind. He took a sharp right turn, then pulled over.

"I'm sorry." I slid over to him, but he wouldn't let me put me my arm around him. He shook his head.

"No. You ain't kissing this better. I got a fat lip because of you. It hurts."

"Well, the fat lip might be down to me, but the fat head is all your own!" I snapped, annoyed that he knocked my apology back. He looked at me, surprise and irritation both showing on his face. I glared back. "You didn't get in that fight because of me helping Trey. You didn't like Campbell saying you were pussy whipped, is what started it."

"And you don't think that's because of you? Jeez, Evie, you are so –"

I wasn't sure if he was lost for vocabulary or so angry he couldn't get the words out.

"...so..." he was losing it for real now. I worried that I'd pissed him off, past the point of reason.

Steve lunged at me, pushing me back against the seat, kissing me hard.

"...so freaking hot when you do these crazy things. Babe, you just took on the fucking Shepard gang, you know that? You are far out."

I kissed him right back, happily. "Are you not mad at me anymore?" I asked, between kisses.

"Oh, I'm mad. Mad and horny. It's an interesting combination." He chuckled deep, right next to my ear.

A sharp rapping on the window, accompanied by a sharper, "Young man!" made both of us jump.

Several faces were peering into the car.

"What on earth...?"

"Did you ever see...?"

Apparently, we'd pulled up outside some kind of church and just in time for the congregation of nosy old ladies to come spectate our make out session. I yelped a little and Steve turned the engine over, leaving the shocked faces behind.

I was smiling at the memory of how that afternoon ended, as I waited for Two-Bit to answer me about Trey and whatever news he had about him. I lost the smile when he said:

"He enlisted."

"He what? He's only seventeen."

Two-Bit shrugged.

"But why would he?" I couldn't get my head around it. The draft was one thing, the awful chance that your name would come up, like some kind of lottery from Hell, but to choose to go? "They won't send him to Vietnam, though? He's too young, right?"

Two-Bit shrugged. "I guess he figured he had nothin' to lose. He was getting beat on fairly regular, might as well be paid for it."

Oh, God. I'd have to get over and see Sylvia as soon as I could.

Once I convinced Steve he wasn't going to die from the 'flu, if I left him for a little while, I headed on over to Sylvia's the next day.

I didn't see quite so much of her these days – Steve didn't want to spend all his free evenings down at the bar. But when she was available, we got together and had a girls' night. She and Danny were so tight, even Steve had no worries that she'd be on the make and dragging me with her. And more often than not, we hung out at her pad, anyway.

Sylvia and Danny had a little apartment down the block from the bar. I think he'd inherited it too, same time as he got the bar. It was over a furniture store, which meant no downstairs neighbors to gripe about the music being too loud at night.

I liked Danny. He was kind of brash, but he was totally up front. They suited each other. But it was still weird for the guys, to see Sylvia with someone who wasn't Dallas. That, and the fact that Danny was a little older, meant they didn't want to hang out with them, and probably never would.

I couldn't believe it when she told me Trey had already gone. Caught the bus immediately they took his papers in. I stared at Sylvia in disbelief.

She waved her match to put it out. She sounded tired.

"What else could he do, Evie? He couldn't even go to the movies. If it wasn't the Shepard boys, it was the Kings. He got beat up so many times."

"But..he ain't even eighteen yet."

"I know. Mom signed something. I think even she knew it was the only thing left for him." Sylvia pulled a face. "I mean, he dropped out some time in ninth grade – I don't think he passed it anyway. What the hell would he do? Construction? We don't know no one in a union an' I can't see Trey doing that..."

I wondered if she could see him in uniform.

I wondered who was going to tell Buzz and how much he would blame himself, for putting Trey in the position in the first place.

Sylvia asked how things were with me and Steve. I told her everything was groovy. Apart from the fact that he was the world's neediest patient.

"Glory, that's all men, darlin'. They turn into babies as soon as they get the sniffles. Half the customers want a nurse more'n a barmaid at the moment." She rolled her eyes at the weakness of the male gender.

When I left Sylvia's, I walked up the street a little way to where I'd parked the Chevy. I turned the engine over and checked real careful, before I pulled away. I didn't drive that often that it felt like second nature to me, I still liked to make sure I was doing it right. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with driving careful, it's just sensible.

Of course Steve had said I could borrow the Chevy.

Well, he didn't say I couldn't... Okay, he was right in the middle of a coughing fit when I asked, but I'm sure he could have got his point across if he was really against the idea.