Disclaimer- I do not own The Outsiders

It had been twenty seven years and he still had nightmares. There were days when he could go on with his life, pretend everything was normal but the memories never faded. He could still hear the kid's screams, the unpleasant gurgling sound. It must have been a horrific way to die, beaten half to death choking on your own blood. The kid had only been fourteen…..

Nobody knew, not his wife, not his coworkers, not his children. He, Jason, Percy and Mitch had never told a soul. He wondered sometimes if they felt the guilt too but he never asked. There were some things better left unsaid.

He'd never forget the look on the kids eyes when they threw him in that trunk, too weak to call out any more. They'd all panicked, dumped the body up in some woods. Nobody had been the wiser. "Just some greaser," Mitch had said, "Nobody will miss him." Had it been to reassure them, or was Mitch sincere? He didn't know but David never asked.

Mitch had been wrong though. The article in the paper had proved much. The kid had a family, two brothers. Their parents had only been dead eight months. The kid's body was never found. He wondered if they knew… knew he was dead or if they still hoped. He was not sure which would be worse. Some nights he would look at his daughter across the dinner table and he wonders which would bother him more.

That night was no exception. His daughter was talking merrily of the school play practice, at the old theater. It had once shown movies but twenty years ago had been refurbished into a playhouse. "its haunted you know. Miss Meriwether told us. She's the caretaker." The hairs on the back of his neck stand up but he forces a smile. The boy, he had been walking home from a movie…

His wife laughs. "There is no such thing as a ghost."

"But mom I saw him."

Him….

"Him darling?" he asks trying his best trying to not look suspicious.

His daughter nods. "Yeha a boy. He's not a mean ghost at all. He looks sad but not mean. Miss Meriwether says he plays pranks sometimes but mostly he's just sad. He was wearing these old looking blue jeans and a short sleeved sweater like thing. His hair looked like that guy's in Grease. I wasn't scared. Sara Jenkins just about wet herself though…"

The guilt eats at him again. The poor kid never had been able to move on, forever trapped at that theater, never finding peace. He wondered if the boy's brothers knew, probably not...

The idea of the ghost boy eats at him and eats at him. He visits his dream the boy is lost within the theater calling for two boys who will never come.

It isn't until three weeks later that he decides to do something about it. It was a dress rehearsal and he decides to come watch. A set piece falls, his daughter is pushed away. David swears he could have seen a boy's hands. The ghost, the boy he helped murder, has saved his daughter's life. The irony is not lost on him. He knows what must be done.

The next day he finds himself at the police station palms sweating. He is afraid, afraid of what his family will think his coworkers. He is afraid of the friends he is betraying, although Mitch has been in prison for some time on embezzlement charges. But if he was honest with himself he would say he is mostly afraid of the future ahead.

The police sergeant's desk is neat and orderly. Two pictures face the sergeant's seat; there is a neat folder of paper work. When he sees the name plate David goes pale. Sergeant D. Curtis. It's a coincidence it has to be. David knows it isn't though. He picks up one of the pictures and gulps. Three young men are sitting on a bench. A man and a woman stand behind them. The smallest boy, the one in the middle, David would know him anywhere. It was the face that haunted his nightmares, that has for twenty seven years.

A throat is cleared behind him. David freezes. He has never been more scared in his life. For a moment all he wants to do is run home to his wife, his children and be free, happy. But he knows he can't. The ghost of a boy who never made it home from the movies all those years ago still haunts him. David has had twenty seven year to live, to enjoy, the boy has been trapped for twenty seven years never changing, never living. He knows he must accept whatever comes his way. He'd stolen the boy's life and now it was time for him to give something back in return.

The sergeant sits down at his desk. "You have something to say?" David nods putting the picture down. He stares at his lap. "Well…"

David sighs. "This is going to crazy."

Darrel grunts impatiently. "Try me."

David squints his eyes. He knows if he is direct the cop before him will lose his cool, his own baby brother and yet…

"There's a ghost haunting the playhouse on Sutton…."

"Buddy if this is just wasting my time..."

David shakes his head. "I'm not." His hand his trembling. "The ghost it's a kid. His body it's in the woods near Oologah Lake, he's buried with his wallet under two forked trees.

David does not need to look to know the man's face is white. "Do you know the kid's identity?"

David closes his eyes. "Go to the playhouse when the sun goes down. Call out and you'll see the ghost. Then go to the lakes."

Darrel leans forward. David looks up then away. He is visibly shaken. The anger in the man's eyes is intense. He wants answers but David does not know if he can give them. His courage is faltering. "If you go there I promise I'll tell…."

"Are you blackmailing me?"David shakes his head. The sergeant calls for some rookies to take him away.

That night David's cell door opens. He is led to the questioning room. The sergeant is there. He looks disheveled, as if he has had no sleep. He looks at David. "SIT!" his voice is harsh and David's heart skips a beat. Would the sergeant actually hit him, no, even with justification he wouldn't risk his job.

The sergeant turned around once more. His face was set, angry. "I went to the play house tonight…"

David gulped. The sergeant gave a desperate sigh and sat down. David gave a silent "oh"

The sergeant shook his head. "Twenty seven years… twenty seven years…" David doubted if the police sergeant ever cried but he looked close now. This scared David even more then the thought of his anger. There was a moment of silence and then "He loved movies."

"What?"

"Especially the ones with Paul Newman, he was going to see Torn Curtain. I'd always hoped….." the man sighed shaking his head. "It's him in the woods…"

David wondered briefly if he would be so calm if the body had belonged to someone had had loved. David nodded. "The ghost, yes, it's his body."

"Did you do it?"

David hung his head in shame. "We just wanted to scare the kid but then Mitch's blade slipped. We panicked. We never meant for it to go that far, really but when it did…."

The sergeant's knuckles crack. "I would love to kill you right here and now but I won't. It won't do any good and the last thing my brother would want is for me to become a murderer but I have a few friends upstate that might not be so forgiving."

David does not know what to say to this but his heart skips a beat. The sergeant sighs. Finally he speaks. "Why did you decide to come forward?"

Startled David slips his head down. "My daughter, the ghost…."

"Ponyboy, he had a name and it was Ponyboy. " Darrel's voice blared.

David nods fearfully. "Ponyboy he pushed my daughter away from a falling set. I had to come clean. I owe him."

The sergeants' lips twitch. "He was always a good kid; he had a bright future ahead of him…." Shaking his head once more the sergeant leaves the room and David is led back to his cell.

That night David has a dream. The air is cold and the room foggy. He looks around and sees a stage. Behind him are rows and rows of seats. He is in the old playhouse. Soon the air grows even colder. He faces the front once more.

He sees the sergeant walking around the stage, calling out. "Is anybody there?" Instinctively as if driven by an outside force David's head moves up toward the catwalk. The ghost boy is sitting on the edge looking down at the two of them. The boy leans forwards and cocks his head. David wonders briefly if there is recognition there. He shivers. This is the most lucid dream he's ever had.

The sergeant is about to leave. The ghost gives a soft son and cries out. The sergeant stops in his tracks. A shiver runs up his spine and David watches as his eyes also move to the catwalks. He stiffens as the sergeant leans forward. "Is somebody up there?"

The ghost flies down so that he is face to face with the sergeant. The man's face has gone white and David is sure his is as well. The ghost's eyes are wide as the sergeant reaches out for him, his own eyes welling up in tears. The ghost promptly disappears into thin air.

The fog swirls around and then David is alone. The sergeant is gone. "He never cried." The voice gives David goose bumps. It is the voice whose screams have filled his nightmares for twenty seven years.

David turns. The ghost of Ponyboy Curtis is standing before him. He freezes. "What did you say?"

"He never cried when our parents died but he did tonight."

"Oh"

The ghost boy's feet kicked the stage. "I guess they'll bury me next to them" sensing David's confusion he explains, "my parents. I wish they'd plant a tree, I liked the forked ones. I always liked the woods, never knew I'd be buried there"

David's face turns white as he remembers throwing the kid's body in the cold earth, tossing his wallet in beside him. "I'm sorry." David says closing his eyes, "You deserved better. I, we never should have jumped you that day."

The ghost boy shrugged. "It's not like you can change the past. I forgive you."

"How, how can you. We murdered you, just threw you away like a bag of trash. We took away your chance at ever having a future."

The ghost boy sighs. He puts his hands in his ethereal pockets. "I'm dead; it won't do me any good to hold a grudge. I've had a lot of time to think, grudges, they only hold you down."

David looks at the boy thoughtfully. He just shrugged. "Twenty seven years gives a guy a lot of time to think," he explains. "but I guess you know that or you wouldn't have turned yourself in." he pauses. "Thank you, for, for them."

"Them?"

The ghost boy tilts his head up and gives a rueful smile. "My brothers, I haven't been able to watch them but it can't have been easy."

"You were close?' David knew that the knowledge would only increase his guilt but something inside said it was part of his penitence.

"Darry and me, we fought a lot. He was always worried something would happen to me so he came off kind of strong but we still had some good times…." He looked immeasurably sad to David then. "We might have been really close one day."

"And your other brother"

"I never loved anyone as much as I did him. We shared everything. I think everything had to be harder on him." the ghost boy runs a hand through his hair. "I think it might help him though, to have a place to mourn. I don't think he ever got to. Soda was always so happy. I hate to see him sad but he deserves that much. Thank you for giving him that chance. My brothers can finally find closure."

"And you," David asks, "what about you?"

"My parents are waiting on me. I'm finally going to make it home from the moves. He gives a soft sigh, a flash of a tired and he is gone.

David awakes from the dream. His nightmares are never filled with the screams of a fourteen year old greaser ever again. The kid has finally made it home. He finally can rest.

The premise of this story is that when Ponyboy was jumped coming home from the movies at the beginning of the novel the gang never made it to him. The knife slipped had he choked on his own blood. The socs panicked and buried his body in the woods. For twenty seven years one of the socs had been burdened by guilt.