A/N: As ever, thanks to all guest reviewers. And Hi, Jas, welcome back to the story!

Steve had point blank refused to collect him. It wasn't something I thought I could argue with, and in the end, Eddie's lawyer was there anyway, for the cops to formally release him, and he drove Eddie home.

It was only a couple of days, but Eddie seemed to have shrunk. He looked grey. He looked old. It was as if, because he'd stopped pretending he was well, he suddenly gave himself permission to die.

He nodded hello at me, a tired smile trying to make its way to the surface.

Steve was smoking in the kitchen, with his feet up on the table, acting out against at least two of the house rules. He flicked his ash onto the kitchen floor, his narrowed eyes, his sullen expression, daring Eddie to say something.

Eddie walked into the front room without a word.

The chair went crashing over as Steve launched himself to his feet, following him.

"'S'up, Dad? You ain't got anything to say? You worried I might take it wrong and – I dunno – murder you?"

"Don't act like a prize fool, boy."

"Jesus, make your mind up. Am I a fool or a killer? I can't keep up."

Eddie scowled. "I did what I did to protect you, is all. Any father would."

"No. Because not every father would assume his son was a fuckin' murderer in the first place!"

"The cops had you in their sights, they were fitting you for it, you know that." Eddie's voice began to match Steve's in volume.

"But they couldn't have proved it, because I never did it. You didn't even stop to consider that, though, did you?" Steve spat the words. "Because you thought I did it! You thought I was capable of murder!"

"Yeah, I did. For her, I thought you could do it. Once upon a time, I'd've been capable, for the right person..."

I knew this was too big, I couldn't interfere. I couldn't talk either one of them around this. They needed to get this done between them, or it would sit and fester and I wasn't sure they had the luxury of time for that.

But it hurt to hear it.

I went back into the kitchen and picked up the phone, called someone to come see me through. My best friend. The person who'd become my go-to without my even noticing it happening. He came right over. We sat on the back porch, smoking.

I leaned against Two-Bit. He squeezed me round the shoulders.

"Hang on in there, Tink."

"This is horrible. They've been goin' for an hour."

"Jeez, that's nothin'. I told you, when Steve was fourteen, fifteen, they used to do this for days sometimes."

I looked at him, horrified, because I didn't think he was joking. He shrugged.

"I know. The not talking, the kicking him out the house...I think it was this," He gestured at the noise coming through the window behind us. "...or just being apart. They're like two ants in a jar, y'know." He noticed my puzzled expression. "Come on, y'know, when you put bugs in a jar and shake it up to get 'em to fight." He laughed when I still looked confused. "Guess you was dressing dolls or something else then."

We both winced as Steve's voice screamed something, to be answered by Eddie bellowing right back.

I sighed. "I can't believe he thought Steve did it."

"Hell, we were all guilty of suspecting people. You know we were. Me and you included. What I can't believe is that none of us got it right."

"No, we were afraid Pony had done it, it's not the same."

Was I splitting hairs? Using Steve's justification. Did that really excuse what I'd thought? What Sarah had feared, about Tony? I thought I could see the difference, and that meant I understood Steve's sense of betrayal when Eddie jumped to the wrong conclusion so easily. He really didn't know his son.

But, at the heart of it all, he tried to protect Steve, despite what he thought. That had to count for something, didn't it? I really hoped that something good would come out of this, after they'd finished fighting and that they would have time - for Steve to forgive and for Eddie to let Steve know that he loved him.

Two-Bit was right though, about the fact that not one of us had got the right suspect. I'd never even considered Sandy. But then, maybe if I'd known who she was hanging with – I thought aloud:

"What I don't get is, how did no one know? How did no one know Sandy was creeping around with Murphy - Oh!" I stopped almost as soon as I started. Because...

Oh, damn. I looked up, to see that I wasn't the only one who'd partially answered that question already.

"Yeah, Tink. I was thinkin' the same."

xxXxx

Every time I rode in the Plymouth there was a new quirk. One time the passenger door was stuck, so you had to climb across from the driver's side. Another time it wouldn't shut properly, which meant riding with your hand on the handle, hoping to God you could pull it hard enough to keep it closed.

Today, there was a new rattle coming from the dashboard, but I didn't razz Two-Bit about it and he ignored it all together.

I'd never been down by the river, not in the streets that he drove us through. Even as a kid outside any particular affiliation, there were places that were no go areas. River Kings turf was definitely one of those. I noticed Two-Bit pat the pocket where he kept his switch, just a reflex action as we crossed some invisible line in the neighborhood.

Eventually, we stopped outside a house that looked like it might blow away in the next stiff breeze.

I thought about how they'd both been, at the very beginning, neither one of them used to a steady relationship. How I'd had to nudge them together, but then been pleased with myself, because they got on so well. Two-Bit, realizing he was falling for her; Kathy, wild enough to keep up with his antics.

But I also thought about how he'd told me they'd been less close recently. How many times had he said that, and I hadn't properly noticed? How far had she pulled away, after he refused to join the Kings?

When he'd spent his birthday with me and she didn't complain, she wasn't being kind. She hadn't cared. In fact, she must have been with Sandy, because she'd known all about Ricky attacking me and Two-Bit had been surprised, so he hadn't been the one to tell her.

I recognized Bridget, Kathy's brother's girlfriend, with a towel around her shoulders. Kathy was dying Bridget's hair, out on the stoop of the ramshackle house, a comb stuck in her mouth and a bowl of gunk in one hand. One more blonde coming into the world. Two-Bit didn't comment.

Kathy looked up in surprise. She was dressed sharp, like always, and her own bright hair was perfect.

"What are you doin' in these parts, baby?" She grinned at Two-Bit as she came down to the sidewalk. "Thought we was on for later tonight?"

"Uh huh." He nodded. "Came to talk to you 'bout something."

"Evie?" She noticed me in the car and frowned.

We climbed out and leaned on the car. Kathy told Bridget to go inside and wash off the peroxide. She sniffed her hands, then held them out.

"Do I smell of bleach?" She wrinkled her nose. I told her no. I didn't tell her she'd splashed some on her capris and had little snowflakes dotting the dark red material.

Two-Bit cleared his throat. "Sweetie, you hear about Sandy confessing to that murder?"

If she asks, what murder? I might slap her, I thought to myself. She didn't. She shrugged.

"Yeah. I heard."

"When the cops came by for Murphy? You hear about it then?" Two-Bit asked.

Kathy nodded.

"He ready for that, was he? Got a nice little alibi, to leave Sandy twisting in the wind?"

She still didn't say anything, but she'd definitely lost her smile now.

"Why didn't you tell us Sandy was cozying up to Adam?" I couldn't wait any longer.

"You cut her off. You didn't want to know her anymore." It was painfully true, of course, but she sounded defensive. I remembered how pally they'd seemed, right back at the Nightly Double, she and Sandy, picking up from last summer, in a way that I'd refused to. Sylvia too. Kathy was the only one who had given Sandy what she wanted, people to hang out with again, parties to go to.

"And the fact that Murphy obviously knew how to get a hold of the guy who hurt Evie? You didn't think we might wanna know that?" Two-Bit was keeping a real good hold on his temper, I thought. In fact he sounded more sad than angry.

Kathy bit her lip. "It ain't like he was out drinking with the sleaze. Adam had his own reasons for wanting to pin him down. I figured it would deal with him, without you guys being mixed up in it."

"But getting Sandy involved? Didn't you think that was off?" I asked. "That stinks."

"She had no problem with it. She was all over Adam in the first place."

"She wasn't right. She just had a baby, her head wasn't together," I tried to explain. "You should have told us."

"Jeez. Be like that. It don't make no difference to me." Kathy stalked off towards the house. She paused on the steps, when Two-Bit said quietly,

"For real? It don't make no difference to you?" He walked over to her and I trailed after. Two-Bit said something I hadn't even considered. Something that stopped me in my tracks. "Coincidence was it, that the cops had a report of Steve's Chevy down by the river? Or that they found his lighter on the body?"

Kathy sat down hard. She shot him a strange look. Two-Bit's eyes widened slightly. I didn't know what unspoken message had just passed between them.

"Adam..." Kathy stopped short. She gave a little laugh. "Adam's the big deal round here, y'all know that. If he says something's a good idea, then it's a good idea."

"You could have told me." He wasn't quite looking at her and his voice was still so quiet. "You should have told me."

"C'mon, Two-Bit. You know how it goes. Number one rule, ain't it? 'Stick together'."

"So I guess it comes down to who you stick together with, then? 'Cause I ain't ever gonna be no River King."

Kathy bit her lip. "Don't make me choose. Don't you make me do that."

I felt sick to my stomach, because I knew why she said that.

So did Two-Bit. He shook his head. "Nah, sweetie, I'mma make the choice for you."

He smiled but it was real sad to see. And when he said goodbye, then kissed her gently before he turned and walked away, it was sadder still.

"Two-Bit..." I ran after him, but he didn't answer me until we were in the car and he turned over the engine.

"Tink, it's okay. She ain't never gonna be free of them, I see that clear enough." He pulled away and we headed home, back to our own turf.

xxXxx

August 1966...

I never was very good at English composition in school. I couldn't see the point of writing something in a fancy way, if you could say it how it was. My vocabulary was never quite what my teacher seemed to want.

It grew.

I learned the difference between temporary insanity and diminished capacity. I learned the phrase 'mitigating factors'. Although I already knew it existed, I learned the medical name for post partum depression and why it was different to post partum psychosis. I had to look that last word up.

And when the doctors and the lawyers were finished arguing over Sandy, I learned that a bug house was a 'correctional institute for the criminally insane'. 'Asylum' seemed kind of tame after that.

Sandy's mom started crying when they said they were sending Sandy up to Eastern State, instead of McAlester and I couldn't tell if it was because she was happy that Sandy escaped prison, or sad that she was going in the mental hospital.

By that point, Sandy had lost any grip on the real world. She didn't know where she was or even that anything that was being discussed was to do with her. I found out later that they'd started giving her drugs already. Whether her lawyer thought that would help his insanity plea, or whether she genuinely needed them, was open to question.

She looked like she was asleep, with her blue, blue eyes open.

xxXxx

I let myself into the house. Steve hadn't come to the court and I didn't expect him to. To watch someone else be tried for the crime you very nearly got fitted for? Not something I could put him through, especially given the circumstances with Eddie. It was all very tangled.

I found them both in the front room, a bottle of Jack on the coffee table between them. Eddie preferred it to morphine, although I could see it wouldn't be long before that choice got taken away from him. He was already a shadow of the man he had been.

Steve was also using it for its numbing qualities, I was pretty sure.

Hell of a thing for them to finally bond over.

I made my way over, perched on the arm of Steve's chair. He slid his arm around me.

"They finish it, today?" he asked. We'd been expecting the trial to wrap up. I nodded. Reported all the points of important vocabulary; manslaughter, diminished capacity, indefinite hospitalization.

They both absorbed the news, although only Eddie said, "Poor kid."

"It's my fault. All of it." I knew that. I'd always known that.

"It ain't!" "Like hell!" The two of them were interchangeable as they spoke in unison, but I shook my head.

"If I hadn't set Ricky up in the first place, he wouldn't have come looking for revenge. If I hadn't ditched Sandy when she wanted to be friends again..."

"Bullshit," Eddie said, in a tone that brooked no argument. "People do what they do. You make him a lowlife? No. You make her unhinged? No." He shifted a little, against the pillow, his face clouding briefly. I felt Steve's arm stiffen.

At some point, Eddie would admit to being in pain but it hadn't happened yet. Stubborn didn't even come into it.

When he recovered, Eddie waved at us. "You kids go out. I heard the Curtis boy yammering like a blue jay, when he came over. Talking 'bout that roadhouse he's hittin' up with his squeeze. Y'all go join 'em."

Steve shook his head. "I'mma stay here."

"I ain't dead yet, boy. Take the girl dancing!"

I smiled at that. "Steve don't like dancin'."

Eddie regarded his son steadily. He reached for the bottle and moved it away from Steve's side of the table. "Stevie, if you're lucky, you'll have a long time to be old. But it ain't happened yet. Take her dancing every chance you can."

xxXxx

September 1966...

I didn't go with the guys to remember Johnny and Dallas.

They wanted to mark the anniversary of their deaths and I respected that. But I couldn't do it. See, by one of those twists of fate, one of those peculiar hiccoughs of life, I was already due at the cemetery the day before they planned to have their personal memorial and that was about all I could take.

When Sylvia called and told me, I found it so hard to believe. It was worse than when she called me before. She wasn't crying this time.

"It's Trey." At first that was all she could say.

"What about him? They call from the Vet hospital? Is he okay?"

Her voice was eerily calm. "He's dead. He killed himself. They musta left him where he could get at..." I heard her swallow, but she stayed in control. "He cut his wrists open."

I felt sick to my stomach. To go through that. To make it home. To live. And then...

Of course I hadn't been able to imagine him with no legs. It was as unreal to me as if Steve, Soda or Two-Bit suddenly lost their limbs; you can't imagine someone you know as less than whole, not like that.

Maybe it was unimaginable to Trey too.

Standing there in the cemetery, me on one side of her and Danny on the other, her mom a blank wall of grief, I still couldn't quite believe it.

When a couple of cruisers pulled up, just ahead of the funeral car, it sank even further into the realm of fantasy.

Was it a kind thing, to let them be here? Would it have always been unreal to them, if they didn't see the casket with their own eyes? Watching them move forwards, cuffed and shackled at the ankles, I wasn't sure.

I didn't recognize their dad. I think I'd seen him once before, but he'd been in prison before I was at their house regularly.

They let Buzz stand with Sylvia. I moved aside. He was pale and not just prison pale, he looked like he wanted to throw up. His face was taut, his hands tightened into fists as he tried to hug her and the cuffs got in the way. Then he shook hands with Danny. It seemed so long ago, that night we'd all ended up at the bar for the first time.

Buzz thanked me quietly, for being there for Sylvia, and I had another flash of memory, right back to Dallas's funeral, when I'd stood with her and he'd been there to drive her home. It was beyond belief that we were all here again. Same cemetery, different boy.

There was no flag, no mention of Vietnam or the Army at all. I didn't know why not. Maybe their mom didn't want any of it. I'd seen a funeral procession in town once, with the casket draped in a flag. I'd seen pictures in the newspaper of local boys; Tommy Reed's brother, for one. Maybe the idea that they died for a reason helped their families. Maybe Trey disqualified himself from that recognition, by committing suicide. It seemed to me that it took more guts, in a way, to do what he did, than it did to kill complete strangers you might not even see properly.

But none of it made any sense, not really. Trey was eighteen years old. The last time I saw him he was hurt and bleeding and he thanked me for giving him a lift, when what he meant was to thank me for intervening in the beating he'd just been handed.

I couldn't quite remember the last time I saw Dallas or Johnny. I think I knew, but my strongest memories of them weren't necessarily the very last times. Maybe I saw Johnny in passing, as Steve and I were picking up Soda some time. Maybe I spoke to Dallas and it was unimportant, just shooting the breeze.

Not one of them would ever be older than the last time I saw them.

Afterwards, they wouldn't let Buzz and his dad stay, wouldn't let them go back to the house. Sylvia held onto Buzz's hand as long as she could, but the guard, or cop, or whatever he was, told him he had to get moving.

He cast a glance back towards the grave and my heart about broke for him as he mouthed the word, 'sorry', to his little brother.

xxXxx

October 1966...

"Ken's."

"Francesco's"

The argument went around and around. Eventually I called a time out.

"Seriously, guys, this is driving me crazy. Get one of each and compare them." It seemed obvious to me. Pony sent a look my way that said he clearly thought so too. Although he might have just wanted extra pizza.

"A taste test? I dig that." Soda nodded enthusiastically. Steve agreed more grudgingly, making Soda crow. "If you was a true believer, you'd put your money where your mouth is!"

"You're on. Winner pays for all the pizzas."

"Done. " Soda grinned. "Shall I bring Joanne? We can make a night of it. Maybe even get Darry to bring Lynette..."

I shot him a significant look, using my eyes to indicate that he hadn't included Ponyboy.

"Oh. It don't have to be a couples thing," Soda tried to backtrack.

"'S'okay," Pony said. "I don't care if it is."

"Nah, you should be in on it. It's the grand taste test, ain't it? Honor of Francesco's an' all. You an' me gotta prove we're right."

Pony nodded. "Yeah. I'll be there. I meant, I don't care if you make it a couples thing. I'll bring a date." So casual. So 'just mentioning this, like it isn't a big deal at all'.

We all stared at Ponyboy.

"You'll...'bring a date'?" Soda repeated carefully.

Pony nodded. And when he smiled, holy hells, it was like Sodapop just got outshone...

Almost THE END

Keep watching, I feel an epilogue is required. One more update...