All characters from The Outsiders belong to S.E. Hinton

A/N: This fic/chapter is being posted as part of "Good Fic Day," an effort to raise the quality of writing here. We hope to encourage more writers to improve the quality of their own fan fiction - spell check, grammar check, keep the gang in character, outline, plot and don't use Mary Sues. Good fan fiction requires effort, and we would like to encourage other writers to rise to the challenge of producing better fan fiction, not only for our readers, but for S.E. Hinton, who created the wonderful book we are trying to honor.

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"Give a man a fish, and he will eat for a day;

Teach a man to fish, and he will eat for a lifetime."

~ Chinese proverb

"That's the last of it," Darry called out from the depths of the garage, as he tossed the last of the camping equipment out the open door to Darrel Sr., who proceeded to pack it tightly into the trunk.

"You sure?" the elder Darrel asked, waiting for an affirmative grunt from his oldest son before slamming the trunk shut with authority. Leaning back against it, he watched as Darry replaced things he'd had to move off the shelves in order to get to the camping and fishing gear, which, while remaining untouched for most of the year, was dragged out like clockwork each Labor Day weekend. That was the Curtises annual "boys weekend"

Darrel thought back to years before, the first time he'd brought a son along, when Darry had been just seven, and Molly had reluctantly agreed to let him come along on what, until then, had been just "Daddy's fishing trip." Back then, it had taken hours to fill the truck. Darrel alone had been responsible for making sure everything they would need made it into the trunk, while little Darry had followed along, nipping at his heels, asking questions about everything and chiding his brothers when they tried to join in, telling them they just weren't old enough yet to come along, all the while beaming with pride that he, indeed, was.

As Darrel watched his namesake finishing up in the garage, it was hard to see any resemblance to that little boy he remembered. Darry had grown strong and solid, a good two inches taller than his father, with broad shoulders and defined, muscular arms. Not that he hadn't worked for it; he'd worked hard to make varsity football all four years in high school, as well as dabbling in basketball and baseball. Looking at his son, Darrel had to smile. He might have memories of him as a little boy, but there was no question that he was now a man, and a decent one, at that. He possessed ten times both the confidence and compassion Darrel had possessed at the same age.

"What are you smilin' about?" Darry asked, coming up to join his father leaning against the trunk.

"Just thinking," Darrel answered.

"About?" Darry raised an eyebrow at his old man, and Darrel wanted to laugh, knowing he'd picked that up from Two-Bit, one of his sons' group of friends. He loved his boys' friends, the whole lot of them, but as much as he tried to fill the void of their own absentee and abusive fathers, he knew that he'd never be able to.

That was why a large reason why he made such an effort with his own boys. He wanted that bond, of father and son. He had their back, and wanted them to know it. He loved his boys, there was no two ways about it. His boys would never want for affection, if Darrel had anything to say about it.

"Just about you… and your brothers," Darrel began. "It's funny to think about all of you when you were younger, going on our trip."

Darry smiled.

"I cried, remember? That first night? I was scared."

"Yeah… and so was Soda.. and Pony, too, when his time came. And now look at you all – you don't even need me anymore. You're all totally ready for whatever comes along." Darrel was mostly joking, but a part of him realized how true it was, and he couldn't help but be a little sad.

"Dad..." Darry started…

"I know, I sound like an old man," Darrel joked. "I'm just worried that one of these days you boy are gonna decide a camping trip with your old man isn't worth your time, and I'll be sitting out there on the lake all alone, just like I never had any kids to begin with."

"Dad!" Darry was laughing now. All three boys looked forward to the trip every year; there was no way that any of them would ever purposely opt out. "You have to be kidding. You know we love it."

"I know," Darrel grinned. "You're just not the super enthusiastic kids you used to be. I kinda like who you are now, though, too."

Darry cracked a smile.

"I'm real proud of you, Darry. You know that, right?"

Darry looked up to meet his father's eye.

"I know," he admitted.

Darrel reached out for his son's hand and squeezed.

"So.." Darry started, awkwardly, "I heard you and Mom last night."

"Forget it… it was nothing," Darrel said.

"Dad…"

"Look, Darry… it wasn't a big deal. She's upset because with all the layoffs at work we were told that nobody was allowed to take time off for holiday weekends. She's worried I'll get laid of for taking time off."

"Will you?" Darry turned to face his father, concerned.

"No… most likely not," Darrel answered, meeting his son's gaze.

"Are you kidding me?" Darry nearly yelled. "You're risking losing your job to go camping with us?" He sounded upset, and something else. Guilty?

"No, son," Darrel answered calmly, "It's pretty likely that even with me taking a few days off, the railroad won't fall apart. Fact is, I haven't had a day off since last Christmas, and right now a weekend with my boys is more important than anything else in the world to me."

Darry seemed skeptical.

"But.. what if you do get fired?" he asked.

Darrel breathed in a deep sigh, knowing that what he was about to say may well be the most important belief he could possibly instill in his oldest son.

"Darry… you realize that we're not exactly among the elite in Tulsa, right?"

The boy hesitated, afraid of hurting his father's feelings.

"Yeah, but…" he started.

"But nothing," Darrel rebutted. "Do you feel like you have a good, solid family that loves you?"

"Dad..."

"Well? Do you?"

"Of course."

"Priorities, Darry. It's all about deciding what's the most important part of your life and not compromising on it."

"Dad, this camping trip… it's not worth losing your job. I mean… if Mom's right, if you're gonna get canned because of…"

"I'm not," Darrel interrupted. "I promise, Darry… I'm not. It's nothing for you to worry about – and I'm sorry you had to hear your Mom and me arguing about it – it's nothing."

"Dad, but…"

"Darry." Darrel put both hands on his son's broad shoulders and turned him so they were face to face.

Darry didn't shy away – he had no reason not to look his father straight in the eye.

"Family comes first," Darrel said, staring right back at him. He hesitated a second, waiting to see if Darry had a response, then continued.

"Your Mother and me, when we were first married – we had next to nothing – and nobody was willing to support us."

Darry looked on, interested.

"We struggled, Darry – maybe even more so after we were blessed with you – but, in the end, we never really cared. The fact is, all that really mattered was that we had each other, and that we were together. First it was just me and your mom, then the two of us and you… then Soda, and eventually Pony. We were blessed, all along. We never wasted a moment thinking about what we could have been; we were always happy with what we had."

"We're happy too, Dad," Darry interjected. "None of us want you getting fired just to go camping with us."

"It's not gonna happen, son," Darrel assured him. "I'm a senior manager - the Southern & Pacific isn't going to fall apart just because I took a few days off. And, frankly, I'm far more interested in keeping our family together than I am the railroad. This weekend – I decided long ago that it was for me and my kids. The railroad can get along just fine for a few days without me.

"It means that much to you, huh?" Darry asked.

Darrel turned to face his son, hoping he'd understand.

"It means everything, Darry," he said. "Without your family, you've got nothing,"

Darry listened, never averting his gaze, and Darrel hoped he'd got the message. Their eyes remained locked, for a few seconds, until Darrel spoke, breaking the deadlock.

"Let's go get your brothers – and say good bye to your Ma," he smiled, "We're goin' fishing."

…...

Sodapop and Darrel sat on the dock, lines drifting in the water but neither interested in catching fish as much as the father-son moment they were sharing. Time with just the two of them alone was rare; of all three boys, Darrel had always felt that Sodapop resembled him the least, in looks as well as personality. While Darrel was reserved and quiet among strangers, Soda was the life of the party.

Likewise, Soda struggled sometimes to connect with his father. He didn't share his love of athletics, like Darry, and he wasn't very introspective or profound, able to have long talks with him about the nature of things, like Pony. Neither doubted each other's love: Soda had never felt anything less than accepted, and Darrel loved all his boys equally – it just seemed that the two of them rarely had reason to be alone, and no particular effort was made on either's part to make it happen.

It turned out, on this day, that it was limited capacity that created the situation. The canoe was a two-seater, and Darry and Ponyboy were the most serious about actually catching anything. Darrel had no particular desire to leave the dock – he was just as happy fishing from the side of the lake as the middle, and Pony and Darry had insisted that Soda moved around too much and made too much noise so as to scare away all the fish. Soda had offered up a weak protest but, in the end, he was just as happy sitting on the dock dangling his feet in the water.

And so they sat, the father and his middle son. Darrel kept a watchful eye over Pony and Darry, who floated soundlessly a quarter mile or so out into the lake. They had scoffed at the bright orange life jackets – all three boys knew how to swim – but Darrel had promised their mother, and the last thing he wanted was to return home to her with one son fewer than when he'd left. He couldn't even imagine it, the thought.

"Hey, Dad?" Soda startled him back to reality.

"What, buddy?" Darrel responded, turning to face him. He noticed the stubble along his bottom jaw, and thought about how just a year ago, he'd looked different, more boyish. He'd hardly noticed him changing, over the past year, but there was something about this annual trip that left images in his mind- pictures of each boy, at each age. He wondered whether Ponyboy would look that much older, too, the next year.

"How'd you and Mom meet?" Soda asked, looking down at the water, moving his feet so that the rays of sunlight made patterns along the sandy bottom. Darrel thought for a moment that the others had been right - Soda probably was scaring all of the fish away, but he wasn't as bothered by it as Darry and Ponyboy would have been.

Darrel was surprised at the question. Soda wasn't usually interested in that sort of thing. Pony was the budding historian. Ponyboy's bedtime stories as a kid had often been born of his own questions about his past, Darrel and Molly's pasts, and how this entity that was his family had come to be.

"Well… we went to high school together," Darrel answered, wondering if Soda was looking for the abridged version or the complicated one.

"And you dated?"

Guess it was going to be the long version, after all.

"No, not in high school," Darrel responded, glancing out at his other two offspring, still sitting in the canoe, still and silent as cats, their eyes on their bobbers.

"So then how'd you end up getting together?" he pressed, and Darrel turned back to face him.

"I always liked her," Darrel started. "It's just that – well, sometimes things just aren't as simple as we'd like them to be."

"What's that supposed to mean? Was she with another guy?"

"No, not really. I mean, she dated a few other boys in high school, but no, she didn't really have a serious boyfriend." He slowly reeled in his line, realizing that the way Soda's feet were churning up the water, he'd have to cast out a whole lot further if he was to have any real hope of catching anything. Sodapop, meanwhile, seemed oblivious to the fact that he was in the midst of trying to catch fish. His fishing rod hung limply in his lap, barely gripped by one hand while the other gripped the end of the dock. Darrel considered for a moment the fact that if he did get a bite, the fish could easily pull the rod right out of his hand, but instead of chiding him, he just grinned. Soda was not Darrel, and that was okay.

"I don't get it, then. Why couldn't you just ask her out?"

Darrel grabbed the end of his line as it came out of the water, careful not to let the hook swing and hit Soda in the face. He cast again, this time long and far to the opposite side of the dock from where Soda sat. A quick glance out into the pond revealed two orange-covered bodies, still very much in the canoe. He turned his head back towards his son.

"It was her family, son. They didn't approve of me."

Soda's head snapped up toward his father at this revelation. He was shocked and confused. For as long as he'd known, his parents' marriage was one of the most solid he'd ever seen. While most of the kids on his side of town had it rough at home, Soda couldn't complain. He had a family who loved him, a stable home life, and two parents that, it seemed, were truly meant for each other. His father was a hardworking, honest, decent man. So long as he could remember, nobody had ever disapproved of his Dad.

"What? You mean Grammy and Grampa? Why? What'd you do?"

"Nothing, kiddo. I didn't do anything. It was different, back then. You see, Grammy and Grampa – your Mom's folks, well, they were straight from Ireland, you know – they were pretty set in their ways. And they couldn't see your Ma setllin' down with anybody but a good Catholic boy."

"Really?"

Soda looked up at him so earnestly that Darrel almost wanted to cry, as he nodded a yes. He knew Soda had a way with the girls… there was no denying that he was the handsomest of the Curtis males, and the girls flocked to him like bees to clover – but in the same way, he knew that Soda wass caught in the middle of a similar divide to what his own had been. His battle may have been the Catholics versus the Protestants, and Soda's might be the haves versus the have-nots, but, either way, Darrel was worried that his son might have to go through the same struggles of loving someone whose family deemed him unworthy. He knew, in his heart, that any woman Soda might choose to love might just be the luckiest girl there was, because, of all his sons, Soda just seemed to have the most love to give, mostly because he didn't waste too much of it on himself. He'd always had trouble with school, and tended to compare himself to Darry, despite the fact that they were two completely different people. Darrel always made a point to praise his middle boy for what he was good at, rather than focusing on his shortcomings, but that didn't always stop Soda from being down on himself when report card time came along.

There was a sudden yelp from across the lake and both Darrel and Sodapop looked out toward Pony and Darry. Pony was standing in the canoe, reeling in his line furiously, but suddenly it was obvious that whatever was on his hook has escaped, and he sat back down. Soda suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be fishing and slowly began to reel in his line. He still seemed shocked at the fact that anyone's parents might disapprove of his father.

"Church? Really? It was about church?" Darrel fully understood Soda's surprise. The boys had been baptized, and the family had always celebrated a Christian Christmas, but that was about all of the religion they had in their lives.

It seemed crazy to Darrel, too, then, as he explained it to Soda. Yet, back then it had been serious business. After he had finally convinced Molly to go out for dinner with him one night after their college classes, there had been no denying the chemistry between them. They had dated secretly all throughout college, and the weekend after college they had eloped, married by a justice of the peace in Oklahoma City. By the time her parents found out, the damage was done, and they didn't speak to them until a few weeks after Darry Jr. was born, and Molly had invited them to his baptism in – as a peace offering – the Catholic Church.

Soda listened intently, hardly believing that his parents' had a whole other life, a history of which until then he'd been completely unaware.

"So what happened? I mean, obviously the two of you ended up together. And Grammy and Grampa always seemed okay with you."

"It wasn't easy, but in the end," Darrel continued, "they came around. They saw how much I loved your Ma, and they didn't want to miss out on you and your brothers. They were just afraid, in the beginning, that I wasn't gonna do right by her." Darrel started reeling in his line again, momentarily feeling the sorrow he'd felt, all those years ago, of being told he wasn't good enough for the woman he loved more than anything.

Soda seemed lost in thought.

"Dad… but… how'd you know? I mean, that Mom was the right one? Especially if being together was so complicated?"

The question brought a smile to Darrel's face and he turned to face the boy. He put his hand on Soda's shoulder and he turned to face his father.

"When it's right," he started, "You just know. It feels right. And I'm not talking about, you know, the physical part of it. In your heart, it just feels right. I just followed what my heart was telling me."

Soda nodded, and Darrel didn't doubt that he understood. Of all his boys, Soda was the risk taker – the one who acted before thinking. This made him the most likely to have his heart broken, but also the most likely to take a risk for the sake of a deep, enduring love like the one he and Molly shared.

"And you know what, kiddo?" Darrel asked, reeling in his line again as Soda toyed with the lure on his own line.

"What?" Soda looked up again.

"No matter how tough it might have been back then, I wouldn't trade any of it for the world."

…...

After dinner, bellies full after reaping the rewards of Ponyboy and Darry's silence in the canoe, the four sat around the campfire. There were other fires visible, scattered around the edge of the pond, and occasionally the sound of singing or laughter trailed across the lake, but for the most part they sat in solitude, talking fish and sports, and considering whether a new tent would be necessary the next year, as the current one was getting more cramped each year as the boys grew.

Ponyboy got up and wandered away, and Darrel assumed he was heading into the woods to take a leak, but after fifteen minutes more of talking, he still hadn't returned.

"Ponyboy?" he called out.

"I'm right here," a voice called back from the direction of the dock.

"Probably off looking at the stars," Darry laughed. Darrel got up and headed off in the direction of Pony's voice.

"Don't get lost," Soda joked. "If you ain't back in an hour we're calling the ranger station."

"I'll be back," Darrel called, mildly amused at his older boys. They cracked him up fairly regularly – both had been blessed with a quick wit. It was Ponyboy that Darrel worried about… he was the one who thought too much and too hard, and had to search long and hard to find the humor in things.

Darrel walked out to the dock, not entirely surprised to find Ponyboy there, lying on his back, completely still and silent. Darrel stopped before setting foot on the dock.

"Looking at the stars?" he asked.

"Yeah," Pony answered, a bit embarrassed that his dad had caught him in the act, but not embarrassed enough to stop. "It's dumb, I know."

"Says who?" Darrel answered, stepping out onto the dock.

"I heard you, joking about it. I know Darry thinks it's stupid, and probably Soda too…It's okay… I'm used to it."

Darrel sat down next to where Pony lay, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, as he lay down beside him.

"I certainly wasn't joking about it," Darrel said. "There's no joke about studying the skies."

"Yeah, well, that's not the way most people see it," Pony responded, clearly upset.

"Son, understanding and being able to read the stars and the sky was a matter of life or death, not too long ago."

"How?" Pony asked, a tinge of hopeful validation in his voice.

Darrel pulled his youngest son toward him – he'd always felt that Ponyboy was the most vulnerable of his boys, and he reveled in the opportunity to pull him close and reassure him.

"Long ago, Pony – before compasses and maps, the only way to know where you were going was to follow the stars. Sailors, explorers, Native Americans… they all looked to the stars, the moon, the colors in the sunrises and the sunsets to measure time as well as to predict the weather. The stars… they're actually a map, if you are willing to learn how to read it."

"Yeah, well, everybody thinks it's dumb, now," Pony answered, avoiding his father's glance.

"I'm telling you, buddy… It's not." Darrel squeezed his shoulder again. "Reading the heavens… it's a time-honored gift. And you have it. You can see constellations others can't – not even your brothers. You can look up and find the North Star, no problem… some people struggle for years to find it. You can read the stars far better than most. It's a gift, Pony. Nothing you should ever feel ashamed about."

"I know… it's just… most people don't get it."

"I get it."

Pony had to smile. His father's acceptance made up for any ridicule he'd endured from classmates and brothers alike. He reached out to hug him, pulling him close, inhaling his scent, feeling the warmth rise in him, the feeling that his father understood. It felt good.

"Pony?" Darrel asked.

"Yeah?" Ponyboy responded, worried that there might be a postscript to his father's earlier approval.

"Don't ever change who you are just because other people don't understand, okay?" Darrel said, "You're pretty great just the way you are."

Pony was glad that, at that moment, he was looking off towards where the sun had just set, and not at his father, because as soon as he heard his comments, the tears began. He'd never wanted anything more than acceptance and love from his father… and just then, suddenly, he had it.

'I love you, Dad," he managed, through his tears.

"You too, buddy," Darrel answered. "Always."

…...

Less than two weeks later, Darrel Curtis was gone, forever – the victim of an auto accident. His last thoughts were of his three sons and himself – wondering whether he'd had enough influence on them in order to leave any sort of legacy. He need not have worried; his children had taken his words to heart. His advice hadn't fallen on deaf ears.

Darry Curtis never forgot to make family his first priority.

Soda Curtis never forgot to follow his heart;

and Ponyboy Curtis never stopped looking up at the sky.