Author's Note: First off, so sorry this chapter took so long! Funny story… the bulk of this chapter came out of nowhere for me. I started writing it and I thought I knew where it was going to go and it was going to be a very reflective chapter but suddenly something completely different was unraveling and at one point I had to stop and go "how did this even happen?" Haha! I love chapters like this; that creep up and surprise me and practically write themselves. This is why I write!

Don't forget to review and let me know what you think and I'll try and get the next chapter up in a much more timely manner. Thank you for your patience!

Chapter Thirty-Five

"I don't need a damn babysitter," Soda complained.

Steve rolled his eyes. "He ain't a babysitter, he's just gonna give you a ride home. Safety in numbers, you know?"

Soda sighed loudly to let Steve know that he wasn't buying that line. But Steve ignored him as he went for the phone. Their shift was just about over and they had run out of cars to work on out in the garage so they were now manning the store themselves and doing any fill ups that showed up. They had sent the guy that had been working in the store – Soda already forgot what his name was – home for the night about an hour ago. It had seemed like a logical thing to do at the time. It was something they had often done back before the war had changed their lives so much.

However they had been forced to admit that the war had changed things. Both of these tasks were turning out to be out of Soda's comfort zone in a way that they had never been before. He was struggling with interacting with strangers to the point where he would freeze up when asked a direct question even if he knew what the answer was. That's when Steve had suggested that Soda take off early while he finished up the shift. Soda had been so uncomfortable that he agreed to this pretty easily. That had been before Steve had added the stipulation of calling Two-Bit to come pick him up though.

Soda crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned up against the counter. Just as he did a horn sounded outside, signaling someone needing a fill up. Soda flinched at the sudden noise and then froze. He glanced over at Steve uncomfortably. He desperately didn't want to go out there. His nerves were fried enough as it was.

"Just leave it," Steve told him, holding the phone to his ear having already dialed. "I'll get it in a minute." He quickly switched his attention to the phone. "Hey Two-Bit. Can you drop by and pick Soda up and take him home? Thanks." He hung up and glanced at Soda as he came out from behind the counter. "He'll be here in ten." The horn from outside sounded again. "Yeah, yeah, I'm comin'."

Soda nodded his understanding as Steve walked outside, leaving him alone in the store. He felt bad leaving Steve here alone but he knew he wasn't going to be much help without any cars to work on. In hindsight he realized that he should have been the one to go home earlier instead of the guy who had been working the store. He would have to remember that for next time.

Soda was so deep in thought that he hardly noticed when the door opened again. It wasn't until they were already in the store that Soda noticed them. It was four boys that looked like they were probably still in high school, all dressed in finely pressed madras shirts and laughing loudly as they stumbled in. Socs. And judging by their erratic movements he could tell that they were clearly drunk.

Soda stood up straight and tensed as he watched them. Even though he was a good couple years older than these boys he felt very uneasy suddenly being outnumbered. He glanced back outside but Steve was still working on the fill up, not seeming to have noticed that they had other customers.

"Hey. You work here?"

Soda jumped. The group was suddenly much closer to him. He looked at them blankly for a moment. He considered saying no and leaving. Steve would be in to sort it out soon. But then he realized that he was wearing his DX uniform. It wouldn't make any sense to deny it.

"What're you deaf?" one of the boys demanded much louder than what was necessary.

The first boy who had spoken laughed loudly at that. Then he spoke again, louder this time as he tried to contain his laughter. "Do. You. Wooorrrkkkk. Heeerrrreee."

Soda felt annoyed. Even if he was deaf how would talking louder help? He had known a prisoner in the second prison camp that had had his eardrums blown out by being too close to an explosion. No matter how loudly the guards yelled at him he still had no idea what they were saying. They tried to get several of the other prisoners to communicate with him but it was no use. They couldn't get anything useful out of him so they ended up shooting him in the head.

Soda quickly pulled himself back to the present as he gave the group on curt nod. "What do you want." His voice was hard and emotionless.

One boy laughed as if that were a funny statement. "Well we are in a store. We'd like to make some purchases! Duh!" He made a rude noise and then turned to his friends. "Wow, this guy is stupid, even for a Greaser."

Soda turned and made his way around to the other side of the counter, grateful for an excuse to put some distance in between him and the Socs. The boys had put four Cokes and several car magazines on the counter. Soda started carefully ringing up the items. He was much slower at this task than he used to be and he was having a harder time remembering how to work the register than he had remembering how to work on cars.

Soda was halfway through ringing them up when one of the Socs said something to him. Soda had been concentrating so hard on the task at hand that he completely missed what he said. He looked at him, a vacant look on his face. "What?"

The Soc rolled his eyes and then leaned in. "Two packs of Kools." He spoke loudly, enunciating each word.

It took Soda another minute to realize he wanted to buy two packs of cigarettes. He turned and grabbed the packs off of the shelf behind him. As he turned back realized that he didn't remember which items he had already rung up and which he hadn't. He just stared at the things on the counter, starting to panic. What should he do?

"You've got to be kidding me!" one of the Socs groaned loudly. "Seriously, this guy is retarded!"

"Dude, this is your job!" another Soc pointed out snidely. "Don't you even know how to do your damn job?"

Soda glared. "I work on cars," he said quietly but firmly. That seemed important to point out. Then he turned his attention back to the register and voided out what he had already done so that he could start over.

"This shit's gonna take forever," the first Soc complained loudly. He leaned over and flung his arms across the counter dramatically as laid his head down on top of them. "Wake me when he's done."

Soda took a deep breath, trying to ignore them and focus on the task at hand. That was easier said than done though. His mind was racing and his hands were beginning to tremble as he felt horribly on display. He reached out for one of the magazines and the action caused his sleeve to creep up his arm. He quickly pulled his hand back to fix it, but it was too late.

"Ew, gross!" one of the Socs exclaimed, pointing at the gruesome scar that circled Soda's wrist.

The Soc who had his head down popped back up. "What?"

"He's got some disgusting thing on his wrist," the guy told him.

The Soc's eyes turned hungrily to Soda. "Lemme see!" Soda took a step backward, his task completely forgotten, his heart pounding in his chest. "C'mon, I didn't get to see," he whined as he reached over the counter toward Soda's arm.

"Don't touch me," Soda growled dangerously as his back hit the shelves behind him, signally that he could go no further.

The Socs were too drunk to be phased by his petty threats though. "C'mon, grab him!"

They were coming behind the counter, corning him. Soda clenched his hands into tight fists, fear threatening to overpower him. Last time he had been in a fight with a Soc it had been one on one. This time he was outnumbered and cornered. He was afraid. But he wasn't going to go down without a fight. He would not be helpless.

As the first Soc approached him Soda threw the first punch, taking the guy completely by surprise. Clearly they hadn't realized that he would fight back. This kid went down hard, cursing loudly.

"Get him!" another Soc shouted.

One jumped over the counter and Soda threw another punch and knocked him away for a moment but then another had come around the counter and tackled him, pushing him hard into the far wall and pinning him. Soda struggled desperately but to no avail. He didn't have the physical strength that he used to after all his years in captivity.

He was trapped.

That thought burned through his brain and he found it hard to breathe. He pushed away from the wall with as much force as he could muster and almost managed to free himself before a second Soc came up and added his strength to the first, shoving him back against the wall with such force that it knocked the wind out of him. There were already dark spots dancing across his vision when a fist connected with his jaw. He knew that it had to hurt but suddenly he felt strangely detached from the whole thing.

"Get his sleeve, get his sleeve!" someone was shouting while they all laughed.

He heard a ripping noise and he started struggling again, his panic soaring to a whole new level. His vision was blurred and he couldn't tell what was happening. Suddenly there was a loud banging noise and shouting. Everything was moving around him very quickly. A minute later he was falling to the floor with no one holding him up any longer. He desperately gasped for breath, his entire body shaking as he tried and failed to get his bearings.

Someone was coming near him and Soda blindly kicked out, trying desperately to protect himself from another attack. Even though it was a weak attempt the figure immediately stopped advancing.

"Soda? Sodapop? It's okay. They're gone now."

Soda struggled to grasp the meaning of these words. He was starting to realize that everything was quiet now.

"What the hell happened?" A second voice.

"I dunno. I left him for five minutes to do a fill up and when I came back in those guys were attacking him."

"Why'd you leave him alone?"

"How was I supposed to know what was gonna happen?"

Soda slowly blinked as things were finally coming back in to focus. "Steve?" he said softly.

Steve whipped back around to look at him. He was crouched down in front of him and was carefully keeping his distance. "Soda?" he said worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Soda paused to take stock of himself. His jaw throbbed from where he had been punched. His chest hurt from trying to breath. He glanced down and saw that the sleeve of his shirt was torn. But other than that he seemed to be in one piece. Carefully he nodded. "I… I think so…" His voice sounded so small.

"C'mon, let's get you outta here." Soda looked up and saw that Two-Bit was standing behind Steve. He wondered vaguely when he had gotten here.

Steve halfway reached out his hand before he paused and considered his action. "Can… can I help you up?" he asked a little unsurely.

Soda nodded. He reached out and took Steve's hand and he pulled him carefully to his feet. Soda just stood there for a moment, not trusting himself to try and move just yet. Steve and Two-Bit waited patiently. Soda was grateful for that. He eyed his friends and gave a small smile that felt horribly out of place on his face. "Thanks."

They both looked a bit relieved at such a normal gesture. "Sure," Steve said with a shrug. "Those guys were a bunch of cowards gangin' up on your like that. Bastards."

Soda nodded his agreement. He was feeling much steadier. He had been so terrified by being trapped that he had forgotten that he wasn't alone. The thought that Steve would come back and bail him out hadn't even crossed his mind. He chided himself for that. It should have been his first thought. It was something he would have to try harder to remember. He wasn't alone anymore. His friends and family had his back.

Steve moved out of the way so that Soda could come out from behind the counter.

"You okay to walk?" Two-Bit asked, eyeing him carefully. "My car wouldn't start. That's what took me so long to get here."

"You can take my car," Steve jumped in immediately.

But Soda shook his head. "That's okay. I'd rather walk. I like the fresh air."

For a moment Steve looked like he might push the matter but decided against it. "Okay," he said. "I'll be by after I close up here."

Soda nodded. Two-Bit led the way out of the store and Soda followed. Outside the air was cool and the sun was just beginning to set. He tugged a bit at his torn sleeve that was only holding on by about an inch of fabric, trying to get it to better cover his exposed skin, but it didn't help.

Two-Bit looked at him sideways. "Cold?" he asked. "You can have my jacket if you want."

Soda shook his head. "No, that's not it. Just feels a little… exposed." He eyed where his scarred skin was visible. "It's okay though. I doubt anyone will be out and about now anyway."

Two-Bit shrugged. "Let me know if you change your mind." He paused as they crossed the street, heading for home. "Well, I know how it ended… but how was the rest of work?"

"It was good while we were in the garage," Soda told him. He sighed. "I'm just not very good with talking to… people yet."

At that Two-Bit laughed lightly at that. "You're talkin' to me," he pointed out, faking an indignant tone. "What am I, chop suey?"

Soda rolled his eyes as he reached out a shoved him a bit. "You know what I mean. People other than you, Steve, Darry and Pony. And even that didn't come easily at first."

Two-Bit nodded. "Yeah. You're a regular chatter box now." He grinned. "Now we gotta figure out how to shut you up!"

It was meant to be a joke. Soda knew that. But all the same he felt his stomach drop at the offhanded comment. He remembered his outburst the day before. It was probably the most he had said at one time since he came home.

Two-Bit glanced at him and seemed to notice the sudden shift in his mood. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Do you have a penny?" Soda hedged, trying to put off having to actually answer the question.

Two-Bit dug in his pockets for a moment. "Nope." He laughed.

Soda cracked a small smile at that, but it didn't last more than a moment. "I'm… sorry for losing it like that last night," he finally said feebly.

Two-Bit suddenly looked serious. "Why would you apologize for that?" he asked slowly.

The way he phrased his question caused Soda to hesitate. "It's not so dignified for a grown man to go to pieces like that," he pointed out finally.

Two-Bit snorted. "We Greasers ain't too concerned with what's dignified. That hasn't changed." He paused. "The way I see it, that whole thing was a long time comin'. You've been bottlin' that up ever since you got back. We could all see it but didn't know what to do about it. I think we're all a little relieved you finally let it out."

Soda considered that for a moment. They were both quiet, their footsteps echoing off of the pavement. Finally he nodded as he spoke steadily. "Me too." And curiously enough he found that he actually meant that. It felt good to not constantly feel like something in him was about to break. For the first time in he didn't even know how long he felt… comfortable.

"It ain't good to keep things bottled up like that, you know," Two-Bit went on, his tone serious. "Just know that you can come to any of us with anythin' you need to."

Soda nodded. "I know. Thanks."

Two-Bit nodded, but he seemed suddenly lost in thought. After a minute he spoke again, his voice low. "I… I want you to know that you didn't deserve what happened to you. There is no question about that. And I… I think about it a lot. About how unfair this whole thing has been." He kicked at some pebbles on the ground, scuffing his tennis shoes. "I mean, shoot, I was eligible for draft for two whole years before either you or Steve were. After you guys left I waited everyday expectin' to get my notice. But it never came. And I don't get why."

Soda winced inwardly. He couldn't even picture good old Two-Bit in a military uniform out in the jungles fighting for his life. But then again, years ago he wouldn't have been able to picture Steve or himself like that either.

"I'm glad that notice never came," Soda said quietly.

Two-Bit glanced over at him and in that quick moment Soda could see guilt in his eyes. "It don't make any sense though. Why would you two get drafted and not me?" His voice shook slightly with an emotion that Soda couldn't quite identify.

Soda shrugged one shoulder. "It was all based on a lottery system. Guess you were just luckier than we were." He paused, thinking something over. He thought about all the ways the dynamic of the group had changed since all of this had started. And he thought about how Two-Bit was the one they called when Soda needed a ride home. Two-Bit was the one who stayed with Steve when he was having a tough time in order to keep him out of trouble. Two-Bit was the one having talks with Darry when he needed to vent. After all these years of trauma it seemed that Two-Bit was now a steadying point for the entire gang. "I'm glad you were here. This is where you were really needed. I know you helped keep everyone together when… when I didn't come home like I was supposed to." He couldn't hide the pain in his voice when he referred to his captivity. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. "And Two-Bit? Thank you for that."

Two-Bit looked over at him, surprise on his face. "I… well… um…"

Soda smirked. "Just say 'you're welcome,'" he coached with a light chuckle, amused by the idea of Two-Bit of all people being left speechless.

Two-Bit smiled. "You're welcome."

They walked the rest of the way to the Curtis house in a companionable silence. After a few minutes Soda glanced at Two-Bit out of the corner of his eye. His hands were in his pockets and he was strolling along in comfortable silence, a bit of an introspective look on his face. Soda remembered how in the past you never used to be able shut Two-Bit up. That was how he got his nickname in the first place. Yet right now he seemed content with the quiet. Soda was reminded for the ump-teenth time that things had changed. But he also realized that maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.