Yep...you guys are gonna learn why I call it Dominoes. Thanks for giving suggestions...I'm actually gonna use one, which is surprising, cuz I don't take constructive criticism well. PLEASE REVIEW! I like fire!

I don't own the outsiders

I sat by Two-Bit's side for a long time. I had no idea how long. Maybe hours, maybe just minutes that dragged on forever. Maybe several moonlit days.

I was angry with myself because I didn't miss Soda. It wasn't like I didn't love him. I wasn't even angry with him for acting how he was. It just didn't register with me. I worried about Two-Bit. Mostly when he would die, and how I would feel when he did. And Pony.

He had to be my main priority. I couldn't help Two-Bit or Soda. I wasn't even going to get involved with whatever Steve was doing. Pony still had hope.

He had stopped even coming down for meals, staying locked in his room all day. I had to force him to go to school, literally dragging him kicking and screaming to his first class. I never yelled at him anymore.

He was getting D's and F's, but I didn't care anymore. I only ever hollered at him because I knew he had more potential. This new depressed Pony is living up to his full potential by staying home all day.

It made me sad to think that I had already given up. On everyone. I no longer believed that Dal, Johnny, mom and dad were looking down, smiling an' blessin' me from heaven. They would never want all of this to happen to me.

They would never just watch Soda go to war. Watch Two-Bit becoming stiller and stiller by an invisible enemy. Watch Pony get darker and darker as the days went by.

I wasn't so sure if they would even care about my issues next to these. I'm not sure if they would care regardless.

My new motto was, "you have to be strong; for -." It didn't matter who it was. Pony, Soda, Two-Bit, Steve. But I couldn't break down just because it would make me feel better.

Weeks passed. It was now mid January. Two-Bit was so sick, he could only take about 8 breaths a minute. We knew he was close.

But he was alive long enough to be there when we received our first letter from Soda. It was technically addressed to Pony, but I tried to ignore this fact.

Pony read it alive, smiling for the first time since Soda's departure.

"Dear Pony,

War kinda sucks. Ok, really sucks. I'm not even in Vietnam yet, and it's torture. Which got me thinkin', why don't criminals go to war instead of the hard workin' men? I guess you can answer that for me. I'm sure you're doing fine. Of course you are. You're the toughest kid I've ever met. How's Two-Bit? Tell Steve I will kick his ass if he does anything stupid. He'll hate me for saying this, but he's kinda weak. Not as strong as you or me pone.

All that stuff you hear about boot camp? It's totally true. I've even scrubbed the floor with my toothbrush! 'Course, they didn't want me to get so sick I couldn't go to Vietnam, so they gave me a new one, but it took forever and my back still hurts.

I've made some friends. You know me Pone. Mr. Sociality Actually, they tried to nickname me "Socy." I said to them, "Nah, I'm a greaser," But they didn't even know such thing as a Soc or greaser existed! can you believe that? Makes me think about what you said. About finding a place where no one cares what your background is or how you live life. Find a place where everyone is "Just guys."

Please tell me everything about home. I miss you and the others so much. I can't even express...getting all emotional here. Sorry.

I love you Pony.

Your brother,

Soda."

I felt a bitterness rise in my stomach. I supposed I fit in the category of "the others" but Soda talked about the other three separately in detail.

I blinked at Pony. He apparently had noticed this lapse as well, as he looked slightly abashed. "Darry-" He began awkwardly, but I cut in.

"Don't worry about it Pony. I'm not insulted or anything. I'm just happy he's- or he seems- ok." I turned my attention towards Two-Bit, no able to stand the rush of emotions in Pony's eyes. "How bout that Two-Bit? Nice to hear from Soda again, ain't it?"

Two-Bit couldn't even speak anymore. He was awake, but his eyes were fluttering and when he did manage a breath, it was shallow and looked like it hurt.

I knew it would be soon. I knew Ponyboy knew.

I wondered which would be worse. waking up one morning and finding Two-Bit's body, just a shade paler and more relaxed looking that he had been. Or possibly getting a letter from the United States. quick and clean, no suffering, like I had always wished for.

On the one hand, you would get to say goodbye in Two-Bit's case. And you would get to die surrounded by people that you loved, but it was so painful for us and for Two-Bit. On the other hand, dying in a jungle somewhere half way across the world, but dying cleanly, painlessly...I couldn't decide.

Pony shook me from my reverie. "Darry, I'm sure he just forgot or something. He really does love you." I nodded, but chuckled disbelievingly.

"Yeah. I'm sure he just forgot. That makes sense." I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I sounded about 5 years old. A little jealous kid.

"Darry-"

"Drop it Pony. I-it's not really a big deal. It was your letter anyway. Doesn't make any sense for him to mention me in your letter."

Pony looked like he wanted to argue. I walked over to him and wrapped him in a hug. I hadn't hugged him since that day in the hospital after we had forgiven each other.

It felt nice, to be that close to someone again. Pony was startled, but wrapped his arms around me. I noticed that I could no longer fit my head comfortably on top of his head. He was getting so tall. He might even be taller than me when he was older.

"He's ok." I whispered into Pony's hair. I knew he heard me because he made a little choking sound in his throat.

Third person POV

Two-Bit Mathews had never felt so much pain. He felt nothing in his arms, legs, and back, but with every breath, it felt as though a knife were being twisted through his lungs.

He knew it was tonight. He never imagined he'd go down this way. He always thought he'd go down like Dal; tough and memorable. Or like Johnny; a hero. Or, if he was honest with himself, like Mr. and Mrs. Curtis; driving at night while drunk.

But never a disease. Much less polio. a virus that only killed the weakest of immune systems.

Death wasn't as Two-Bit had imagined it either. His limbs felt heavy. His eyelids felt heavy, but he didn't want to close them. He though he'd be ready.

He thought that he would have accepted death and greet death with open arms and closed eyes.

But nothing is ever quite how you suppose.

Two-Bit felt an excruciating pain as his lungs finally gave way, and he died.

No peaceful sensation.

No white light.

Nothing tangible on the other side.

The best that can be said for death is that, for Two-Bit, it was a hell of a lot better than life.