I know what you might be thinking

'Oh, my gosh Macky, wtf are you doing? You have two unfinished You have two unfinished stories, you can't write a one-shot!' Well, you know what I did! Because this is important, I'll explain more at the end.

I don't own anything

It had been a small ceremony, just the gang, Tim Shepherd, who was a buddy of Dally's and said hood's father who had come reluctantly and stood in the corner the entire time, drunk on whiskey. Their friends laid side by side in closed white caskets, and they would stay side by side, the gang would make sure of it.

Darry Curtis breathed in the crisp fall air, his sky-colored eyes not daring to leave his younger brothers. He feared that if he looked away for even a moment they would disappear from him forever as well. Sodapop has remained quiet the entire time, the only noise being his loud sobs. Ponyboy had been oddly quiet, deep in reflection the entire time.

Tim Shepherd was giving a speech when she walked in, he was saying something about how Dallas would have been crossed with them for mourning his death when a cold and slender hand fell on the oldest Curtis brother's shoulder. He frowned turning around, all the while frowning. He was met with a pair of mismatched eyes, one a dull, muddy brown, and the other a bright emerald green. Darry's frown deepened, he only knew one person with eyes like that.

"Sylvia." He greeted. She gave him a firm nod, not a touch of emotion on his face.

"The one and only." She said bluntly. Darry glanced at his brothers to ensure they were still safe. Pony had spotted Sylvia, and his younger brother's eyebrow wrinkled in fury, he obviously didn't want her there. He looked like he was about to go over and perhaps tell her off, but Darry shook his head, effectively stopping him.

"What do you want?" He demanded, feeling himself become a bit overcome with emotion. He expected her to laugh or mock him, but that terrible emotionless look never left her face.

"Well, this is a beautiful funeral." She said sarcastically, instead of answering his question. Darry felt his own temper flare, but as he looked around the room he had a admit that the wilted roses and the drunk man in the corner were not very ideal.

"We tried our best." Darry defended, breaking eye contact. "We aren't exactly made of money, you know." He informed her.

"Uh-huh." She said simply, walking around him slowly in a semi-circle, like a predator creeping up on their prey. "Why are you here?" Darry demanded again, but he had to admit that her pacing was making him a bit anxious.

"So much denial." She said, her lips right beside his ear. She followed the sentence with a slow tsk-tsk.

"Denial?" Darry questioned. She was facing him again, and she nodded.

"How many times have you told yourself that this is what they wanted, being surrounded by their friends and family." She asked, in a slow unnerving way. Darry forced himself to not pay any attention to her. They would have wanted this. He told himself.

Her eyes, those grim strange eyes, were locked on his again. They were two different colors, one brown and one green. She was the only person that Darry had ever met with eyes like that.

"If Dallas was able to plan his own funeral he would have wanted his body thrown straight into a hole," Sylvia said, but now Darry could hear something in her voice. "That kid that always hung around him, he would have wanted that too." She was trying to keep it steady, trying to stay emotionless. "Dallas killed himself." She said suddenly, and Darry's temper sparked once again.

"He was shot by the police." He corrected, turning away from her. Sylvia tsk-tsked again.

"He killed himself because he wanted to be with that boy." Darry glanced uncertainly at her, pursing his lips.

"I'm not quite sure what that means." He informed her, and she gave a blunt, humorless laugh.

"He's dead because he wanted to be with that boy, and Dallas always got what he wanted." He glared at her. "Don't give me that look, let me finish." She commanded, placing her hand on her hips. "If he didn't always get what he wanted then he wouldn't be dead." Darry understood what she meant.

"Maybe what they wanted isn't right." He questioned, though he already knew. Sylvia nodded, her lips pursed.

"This is nice." She finally said after a few minutes of silence. "Not exactly beautiful, but nice." She finished, her hands crossed in front of her. Darry gave her an uncertain sort of smile. She returned it, and Darry didn't miss the tears that were dancing in her eyes, though he never said anything about them.

Darry was suddenly aware of quick footsteps coming from behind them. He thought for a moment that Pony had finally let his temper get the best of him, but as he turned around he found that it was Marie. She was a therapist that had been sent by their social worker, the one who was sent every month to ensure that Soda and Pony were doing well, to make sure the boys were coping alright with the loss of their friends.

"Sylvia Mourney?" Marie asked. The younger female scowled.

"The one and only." She replied sassily. Darry chuckled wondering if that's how she greeted everyone. Marie sighed softly, obviously annoyed.

"We would like to ask you some questions about the death of Mr. Winston." She said in a gentle voice. Sylvia smacked her gum hard, eyes narrowing.

"Uh-huh." She said simply, shrugging her shoulders.

"Before we start, could you please state your connection to the deceased?" She asked. Darry couldn't help but smirk at how different they were. He felt like he was watching a scene from one of those movies Ponyboy liked to.

"Uh-huh, I was his girl." The therapist seemed to become even more irritated, perhaps at her sass or improper ways of speech.

"Alright, now I'm going to ask you some questions regarding your lover," Marie informed her, and as she walked she already began rambling something about confidentiality, motioning her to follow.

Sylvia obeyed, carrying on after the older woman. As she passed by she quietly whispered a single sentence.

"You did well."

Ok, so I said this story is important, and this is why.

In all the stories I've read with Sylvia she is either:

a) a lying cheating slut who has no emotions

b) a ditzy blond who usually is pregnant by the end of the story

I wanted to write a story that showed a more intelligent side of Sylvia, one that showed what she knew about Dally that the others didn't.

My reason for her talking to Darry is because he is the oldest, and he is another character who is often villainized.

I felt like I needed to give them a chance.

Anyways, this story better get 1000 reviews or I'm quitting writing forever

I'm obviously joking but I'd really appreciate if you reviewed- Macky