This chapter is dedicated to AlleyCat for all her help and awesome ideas! Apologies all around for the hideous delay. I have no excuses nor will make no lies! ;)

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Disclaimer: Cursing, fighting and all the 'boys will be boys' things we love them for! ;)

XXXX

I see you've got your fist out

Say your piece and get out

Yes I get the gist of it, but

It's all right

Sorry that you feel that way

The only there is to say:

Every silver lining's got a touch of grey

-The Grateful Dead

XXXX

The busy line causes me to growl in frustration and I slam the phone back on the hook. The cop to my left motions at me and I hold up a finger. "It's busy – just one more try."

Unperturbed, the cop nods. "Make it snappy."

I tap the phone against my forehead, wait thirty seconds and dial again. "C'mon." This time it rings and I hold my breath…but no one answers. "Goddammit Darry!" I swear. "Where the hell are you?"

Finally defeated, I hang up, my hand still on the receiver. "Third time's a charm?" I ask the cop hopefully.

"Sorry Curtis," the cop says with a rueful smile, "I ain't even supposed to give you two."

"Can't say a guy never asked," I shrug, as he leads me back to the cell.

"You could talk your way out of anything, Curtis," the cop murmurs thoughtfully. "Just like your daddy."

I smile wistfully. "But you know better."

"Damn right I do."

Our footsteps echo throughout the drafty, old building. When we reach our destination, the cop sticks the key in the lock and swings open the door with amusement. "Don't worry boys, you'll be outta here 'fore morning."

He laughs and eyes my cellmate. "Although, I am sorry you got such lousy company." The cop swings the door shut and locks it as I plop down on a bench in the corner.

"You're breakin' my heart," Two-Bit drawls, clapping his hands to his chest. "C'mon, where's the love, O'Brien?" He raises an exaggerated eyebrow.

O'Brien – the cop – fixes an annoyed stare on Two-Bit. "My love went right out the window when you decided to drag race my cruiser."

"Hey," Two-Bit puts his hands out in defense. "If you didn't want it to be driven, you shouldn't have left your keys in the ignition."

I massage my temples, simultaneously amused and annoyed. "Two-Bit, for once in your life, shut the hell up."

Two-Bit nods curtly. "Sure, Sodapop. I'm just reminding O'Brien about the rules of the neighborhood."

O'Brien takes out his Billy club, dragging it across the bars of the cell. The metallic clanging noise causing me to wince. "You two should know – better than others-…" O'Brien eyes me pointedly, "…that rules don't stand for nothin' on this side of town."

I scratch the back of my head and shut my eyes briefly as an image of my youngest brother floats into my mind. The image quickly scatters as O'brien says, "But you're lucky that I make 'em. At least in here."

The cop pulls out a pack of smokes and tosses it to Two-Bit who catches it with one hand. "And you're lucky your mama was so nice to me, Keith."

I choke on a laugh.

A disgusted look flits across Two-Bit's face. "Too much information, man."

O'Brien cracks a smile. "Relax. Have a smoke, play a round of cards. I'll be back…well…hell, I'll be back when I feel like it." With that, O'Brien shuffles off down the hall.

I watch Officer Ernie O'Brien leave – once my dad's friend and Two-Bit's mom's boyfriend and think: Cop or not, he's still a greasy one. He's on our side. He'll bust our balls, make an example of us for a few hours and then let us out. It's the way our system works.

Two-Bit knows this too, because when I look up my friend is smiling. "You know," he says. "I reckon this is even the same cell we had last time."

"Hey," I hold out my hands. "At least we're in here for bigger and better things this time. Not doing flips in front of the Piggly Wiggly parking lot."

Two-Bit sticks an unlit cigarette in his mouth and raises that famous eyebrow. "Amen to that." He holds the pack out to me and I take one.

I roll it between my fingers, staring at the white walls of the cell. "Although, I gotta tell you Two-Bit…never thought I'd be in here again." Seriousness settles over me. "I thought we were smarter than this. It wasn't in my plans tonight to get popped for pulling a stunt a 15-year-old kid could've done."

A frown briefly crosses Two-Bit's face, but he recovers quickly. "Well, my unenlightened friend, that's the difference between you and me. I always knew we'd be back."

I shake my head, now truly agitated. "Shit Two-Bit, you could've left me out of it."

Awkwardness fills the small cell. Somehow the past keeps rearing its ugly head; we're right back where we were a year or so ago. Same mistakes, same luck.

The hiss of Two-Bit's lighter breaks the silence. As his cigarette burns, Two-Bit asks, "So, how'd the phone call go?"

"I wouldn't know. No answer."

"Superman ain't home?" Two-Bit asks in surprise.

"I don't think so," I say with some unease. Someone had been at home, on the phone and then suddenly weren't. Something's not right, a voice inside me whispers.

Two-Bit turns aghast. "He ain't out actually dating is he?"

"Believe me, right now Darry ain't got time for dating. The only thing he's got time for is those goddamned court dates." I rub my eyes, knowing I sound bitter.

"Shit!" Two-Bit suddenly exclaims, making me jump. He tosses his smoke to the floor in frustration. "Shit, I didn't even think about the kid. The state's gonna be all over this. Christ, Soda, I'm sorry, man."

The worry in his voice is evident and I attempt to reassure my friend and push down my own similar thoughts.

We had been stupid tonight. In an attempt to take my mind of Ponyboy's situation and the upcoming trial, Two-Bit and I had hijacked a cop's car and dragged race down the strip. Not necessarily a covert operation.

Inwardly, I groan, knowing Darry's gonna have my ass – screw the fact that I'm now 18.

"Don't worry about it Two-Bit. You heard O'Brien, the fuzz ain't gonna press changes. And what more can the state really do?" I say with confidence I don't believe.

"Good point," he agrees doubtfully.

XXXX

20 minutes later, O'Brien is back, accompanied by another cop and a guy in cuffs.

"He's in here with you," O'Brien tells us, pulling out his keys. The prisoner has an odd sort of smile on his face as if he's laughing at the situation. O'Brien is staring at me strangely.

Two-Bit looks up from our makeshift poker game. "Whoa - what about over there?" he complains, pointing to an adjacent cell.

O'Brien glances over his shoulder. "Morrison doesn't exactly play nice with others," he tells us, unlocking the cell. "And we're full up down the hall. Looks like it's your lucky night, Keith."

Two-Bit scowls. "Yeah, that's what Chrissy Perkins told me right before vomiting onto the dash of my truck."

I smile, remembering that night. "Serves you right – you bought her the alcohol...Keith."

My friend points at me. "Traitor."

The other cop snorts in laughter, cutting off abruptly as O'Brien shoots him a dirty look. "Can it, Floyd. Don't encourage these two."

Floyd, once again all business, nods briskly. "Yes sir."

O'Brien swings the cell door open, its hinges creaking. "In you go," O'Brien growls stiffly, shoving the prisoner in. "Cool off. Sand Springs County may not have room for you – but I don't want you either."

"Since when is it a crime for a man to discipline his family?" the guy laughs as the door is shut and locked.

O'Brien's gaze is fiery as he glances at the guy and then me. "Nearly killing them in the process defeats the purpose. Sober up and shut up, Mike." And with that, Floyd and O'Brien disappear down the hall.

"I barely touched them," Mike yells at their retreating figures. "I'm innocent on this. If anything I beat a little sense into that stupid kid. He comes into my house and tells me what to do? Not me," he whispers, resting his head against the metal bars.

Two-Bit's eyes widen and he mouths the word Crazy to me. I nod and mime drinking from a beer bottle. I can smell the alcohol on this guy a mile away.

Mike turns around and eyes us. "What you two doin' in here?" He smiles maliciously and sneers. "Lift a comic book?"

"Cop car," I retort, meeting his gaze. Instantly, I know I do not like this man. Something is eating at me but I can't place it.

Two-Bit affects his best John Wayne bravado. "Running from the mob can be a pretty tiring business. Why just last week I was telling my friend Lazy Eye Jim over here," Two-Bit gestures at me, "that we really need a new occupation."

Mike's eyes narrow. "I have a son about your age. All of youse are smart asses and addicts."

"Uh, I take it there's trouble on the home front?" Two-Bit asks, baiting the guy. I shoot him a warning look but he ignores me.

So help me God, Two-Bit, I think. If you get me into a fight…you're on your own.

Surprisingly these words relax Mike. His fists unclench and his eyes take on a distant look. "My wife – the bleeding heart – takes in some retard kid off the streets. So now I got him, my son and my whore of a wife on my case all the time."

"Can't a guy just catch a break?" Two-Bit murmurs in mock sympathy.

"Listen, listen to this," the guy brags, apparently liking having an audience. "The kid can't even ride a horse right."

I feel as if I've been hit with a baseball bat. For a moment, the world sways in and out and my lungs can't breathe. He's talking about Ponyboy, a voice says. My brain brushes back over Mike's vague conversation with O'Brien and refuses the evidence.

No.

I flash back to the accident, the hospital and Donald Parker: thoughts that I will never be able to erase. Bile rises in my throat and I shake my head slowly, willing it back down. Someone is staring at me and it is Two-Bit. We lock eyes; Two-Bit's face mirroring my own: shocked, pale.

"Son of a bitch," Two-Bit swears hoarsely.

Then I forget the past, come back to the present and this is where I begin to clench my fists.

Mike continues, oblivious to what has just happened. "So he falls off this horse and the next thing you know the kid's dumber than a doorknob. No one wants him so it's up to me – to me – to set him straight."

I hate myself as I calmly ask, "What did you do?" My voice comes out flat and emotionless. I want as much information as I can get so I know just how hard to hurt this guy.

"It wasn't the first time…but I broke him. Tossed him ass over teakettle." Mike punches his fist into his palm and whistles. "Head hit the wall with a bang and I swear to God I got a pretty good punch in there."

I make a funny noise in the back of my throat and my hands begin shaking.

Mike paces the short length of the room, his voice anxious and excited. "I was really layin' a beating on him when the goddamned cops or social worker or whatever the hell you want to call them walks through the door and breaks up the party. If it weren't for the interruption I woulda killed the little-"

And with that, I can't stand anymore. I launch myself up off the bench and onto Mike. My fist connects with his jaw, slamming his head back into the metal bars.

"I'm gonna kill you," I yell, as an anger I have never experienced before snakes its way through my veins. I hit Mike again and a crunching sound tells me I have just broken his nose.

"Fucker!" Mike bawls, digging his knee into my stomach. Caught off guard, I double over and it's just enough time for Mike to slam his handcuffed fists into the side of my face. I stumble but recover quickly, wiping blood from my cheek.

Before Mike can advance on me, Two-Bit steps in, knocking him flat on his back. "Oh no, you don't," Two-Bit hisses.

Dazed, Mike looks up at us and slurs, "What's wrong? Don't like the story? Pussies."

"Shut up," I snap, kicking Mike in the ribs.

"Let me tell you a story," Two-Bit says with a grim face. "You just got put into the cell with the wrong people."

Livid, I kneel down next to the man and memorize every detail of his face, wishing I could do more damage but knowing I can't. There's something trembling in my voice as I say, "That stupid kid is my goddamned brother and if I didn't want to make it out of here tonight, I really would kill you."

Drunk and hurting, Mike just stares at me blearily.

Standing up, I rub my jaw and look at Two-Bit. "C'mon. We gotta get out of here. We gotta see Pone." Then my voice seizes up in pain and I cough into my fist. "Shit," I say in a soft voice.

Two-Bit squeezes my shoulder, his face unnaturally gray. "It'll be alright Sodapop."

"It better be," is all I can say.

We both start as O'Brien strolls around the corner. "Christ!" Two-Bit exclaims, trying to cover for us as O'Brien's eyes dart down to where Mike lays on the cement floor. "O'Brien, where the hell have you been? You locked us up with a crazy."

"Generally, that was the plan, Keith." O'Brien unlocks the cell door and steps aside. "Nice work boys. Go on. Don't say I never did nothin' for you."

XXXXX

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