I do not own The Outsiders. All characters used from the book are borrowed with much respect to S.E. Hinton.

I know it's been a rough read lately, so I'd like to thank all y'all who are hanging out with me and hanging in there for that happy ending. Your comments give me life, so thank you!

This one is a little sad, a little funny, a little long. Here we go.

Time doesn't mean a whole helluva lot when you can't do anything but lay there in a bed waiting. I relished in my drug-induced fog, wanting to take the short cut all the way to the end where I was healthy and healed and ready to get on with life, whatever that life might look like. I knew it would be hard, but I still had a lot to be thankful for, namely Beth, friends that were near and scattered, and somewhere out there was my youngest brother.

The thought of Ponyboy alone without me caused a deep itch under my skin that left me uncomfortable and twitchy. He needed me, and in all honesty, I needed him just as much. I could feel the discomfort of my regular visitors; skirting around the subject of Sodapop's death. Even Beth, bless her heart, wanted to change the subject when his name fell from my lips, as though it were poison. I knew it was her not wanting me to get worked up, but the silence was tearing me up. It was as though he never existed, but his impact was unending. Silence and denial weren't going to be what helped me heal. The better part of a year with my head in a bottle taught me that. I knew it was going to be one of the hardest things I'd have to fully accept, but I didn't know how I was going to do that without Ponyboy.

There were seven of us that afternoon my brothers and I laid our parents to rest. Now I didn't know who was left; Dallas Winston, Johnny Cade, and my brother were all taken. Taken by the harshness of growing up where we had. The streets and the cold brutality of war. Both were unforgiving. Both took three boys violently and indiscriminately.

The remaining four of us were like scattered ashes of their memory. Steve Randal was still across the globe fighting in that war that ripped my brother from our lives. I was laid up while the inside and outside of me tried to come to terms with the loss. Ponyboy, like me needed to find his way. Keith Mathews—Two-Bit faced with his own decision of war or jail, and my heart broke more. After everything he'd done for my brothers—for me. I pushed him away that night and I hated myself for it. How fitting it was that I lay broken in a hospital bed. I didn't deserve much more for the way I turned my back on him.

Days seeped into each other and I wasn't really even aware. It all felt like a dream, and all I wanted to do was wake up from it and have everything back to the way it was. Life had been tough, but we'd all had each other and now looking back, it didn't seem that bad compared to what was happening now.

The fog grew less heavy as time passed, and when my mind was clearer was when I could feel warm water glide over my head, and the firm yet gentle friction of my hair being washed. I made a move to raise my arm and was confused when there was no resistance. I opened my eyes and gently grabbed for Beth's hand; her face registering an expression I didn't understand.

"Darry?"

"Hey," I croaked; throat dry and scratchy like it had been when I'd first woken up and realized where I was.

"Did I hurt you?" Beth stopped what she was doing and looked at me in concern.

I shook my head. "Feels nice."

My eyes closed again. I was more than exhausted. I felt a weakness I'd never felt before. I had no idea how long I'd been confined to that bed, but I had a sense that it'd been for some time just by the fatigue that I was feeling. I'd never been a man to sit around in the past and I wondered how long it would take to get to feeling normal again.

"Your hair's getting long," Beth commented absently as she let go of my hand; her fingers running through the dripping strands.

"How?"

"Hmmm?"

"My hair." I was weak enough that I was losing my train of thought. "Washing…how did you…"

"I'm a nurse, silly." Beth's smile was probably the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. "I know the rules."

She winked at me playfully.

"'M I gonna get the bed all wet?"

"It's okay, sweetheart. I was gonna wash you down. Give you a bath and change the linens. Hopefully that will help you feel better."

"No fair." I frowned.

"What's not fair?" Beth stopped in her tracks and gave me a worried look.

"You bathing me. Every man's dream is to have a beautiful nurse giving him a bed bath. I'm too sick to enjoy it." I tried to smirk, but I don't know how it looked. I was so damned tired.

Beth rolled her eyes before barking out in laughter. It made me smile to hear that carefree laughter of hers. I wanted to tell her so, but she'd slapped a damp washcloth over my face and told me to help out.

"I should've said nice, beautiful nurse." I quipped as I felt for the cloth with my free hand and proceeded to scrub my face.

Beth blessed me with another heavenly laugh, and I felt a genuine smile pull at my mouth as I slowly led the cloth over and around my face. Confusion and concern soon interrupted however, when the tips of my fingers grazed over my jaw and I felt the full growth of a beard.

My eyes snapped up to Beth as I felt panic set in; my breaths coming out quick and sharp. It occurred to me that more time had passed than I was even aware of, and a feeling of helplessness took over.

"Darry," Beth noticed the panic right away; halting what she was doing to lean over me to run her hand over my forehead.

"Darry, listen to me. You're okay. You're okay."

Her voice was calm but firm as her eyes stayed very focused on my own. It was an out-of-body experience like I'd had that night I blacked out drunk and high with the help of Wendy. I found myself terrified, and the feeling was as foreign as being confined to a bed. I was in a full-body tremble. What the fuck had happened? What was going on?

"What happened?" My voice shook along with the rest of me as I focused on Beth for some kind of answer.

"There was an accident, Dar…"

"Yeah, I know there was a goddamned accident, Beth! I know there was a fuckin' accident! What the fuck happened to me? How long have I been here?"

My voice boomed throughout the room despite how weak I'd been, and how much I didn't want to take it out on Beth.

"Shhhh…don't get worked up, please."

"Beth," I looked at her, begging to know the truth. "What happened? Why don't I remember anything?"

She looked away, maybe wondering what she was going to say to me, or how she was going to word it, and with every silent moment that passed, the tremble within me grew. She finally faced me again, but I could sense that she was very guarded.

"You got an infection—went septic. You almost lost your leg, but they were able to save it."

"My leg?"

"Yeah, honey. You were in bad shape. Your arms, your legs, but the left leg was the worst of it. You don't remember it?"

"Pieces," I commented; detached as I lifted my right arm and inspected it as I lay there naked and wet, covered in a few small towels. "How long?"

"Darry, I don't…"

"Dammit, Beth! I wanna know!"

"A few weeks." She whispered.

"A few?" I looked at her disbelieving as my right hand lay itself over my jaw and rubbed the beard I knew took more than a few weeks to grow.

"Six. Darry, let me finish, please? Let me get you washed up and dry and we can talk, okay?"

"Don't lie to me, Beth."

"It's not my intention to lie to you, but I almost lost you and I'm not willing to go through that again when you catch your death from pneumonia."

I gave her an abrupt nod but kept my silence while looking away as she went about the business of taking care of me. She took her time, knowing I needed it to calm my temper and I was thankful for it. I'd hurt enough people I loved in the past from a temper that was too quick to flare, and as confused and scared as I was, I didn't want to hurt her.

A nurse came in to help Beth when it was time to wash my back and change the linens, and once it was over and I was fluffed and puffed, a part of me really did feel better, but there was still a part that was wary with having a huge chunk of my life missing.

"Can I sit up? I'm tired of looking at this ceiling." I grumbled as the nurse was rolling up the dirty linens that I'd been laying in for the last two months without my awareness.

Beth looked over to the nurse who gave her a cautious nod in return. Beth looked back over to me from the foot of the hospital bed before crouching down. Slowly the head of the bed started to raise, and I took in my surroundings; noticing the cast on my left arm. It wrapped around my hand like a plaster glove with the thumb and fingers cut off and ran itself all the way up to just below my shoulder. My arm was bent at the elbow; my hand resting on my abdomen with the help of a sling.

Beth had my lower half covered so that I couldn't see. She'd told me it was bad, and although curious, I was thankful that she knew me well enough to know I wasn't quite ready for what lay beneath the sheet. I looked over at my right arm and saw the sick green and purple pallor of weeks-old bruising. I opened and closed my hand, and although it was weak, the fingers moved without any difficulty. Not quite ready to look further, I brought my hand up to my face to rub along my jaw again before carding my fingers through my hair which had grown out considerably.

"It looks good. Sexy, actually." Beth smiled shyly.

"Yeah? Good. Go grab your guitar. We'll head out west and sing Kumbaya on the street corner with all the other hippies."

Beth shook her head at me with a sigh, but the tight grin she wore cracked into a full-blown smile as she edged closer to me. I watched her as she approached slowly; leaning down until we were face-to-face and made a move like she was going to kiss me.

"Are you quite finished, smart ass?"

"No guarantees." I frowned, staring at my lower half beneath the blanket.

Beth could sense my nervousness. I could tell as she gave me a knowing look and kissed the corner of my mouth before peeling back the sheet covering my legs. I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting to see, but in some weird way I was relieved to see the cast covering my left leg that extended from my foot to crotch.

"Oh," I was surprised by the lack of a mangled limb.

"What are you thinking?" Beth asked wary.

"It's…it's not what I expected." I mumbled as I looked over to my right leg and saw the same faded bruising covering the skin like the skin that covered my right arm.

"What were you expecting?" Beth slowly sat on the edge of the bed and let her hand rest on the cast covering my thigh.

"You said I almost lost it. I guess I was expecting blood and bones sticking out or something like that."

"It looked like that when you were brought in. I didn't think there was anything to put together, but the doctors were amazing. You're amazing too."

I didn't feel deserving of her praise. I'd run off half-cocked that night when I knew better than to be that way. I knew from the past that it was better to let calmer minds lead, but losing my brother would prove to be my undoing.

I smiled tightly as my gut clenched itself in knots, and I couldn't help but think of my little brothers.

"I have a lot to live up to." I choked, thinking of Pony especially, and his never ending ability to fight the odds. I wondered if I measured up.

"I don't know about that, sweetheart, but I think I now know where he gets all that strength from." Beth whispered before pressing her lips gently against mine; reading my mind like an open book.

"Darrel?"

I looked up from the sad breakfast tray that was set in front of me, and was happy for the distraction. The night alone with the new knowledge that I'd been laying there for a couple of months in that hospital bed had left me with so many unanswered questions; namely where my brothers were.

I could tell that Beth was stressed, and I hadn't wanted to put her through more, but I needed to know if Soda's remains had made it home, and if Ponyboy was okay.

My mind was muddled with worry about details I couldn't help but be at the mercy of. I had no control over the details of Soda's burial even though I gave him my promise that I'd have him next to our parents instead of in that military section, where one more soul buried was as lost and generic as the next. And as I picked at my eggs pointlessly, another gnawing feeling took over. I had no idea where Ponyboy was or how he was coping.

I was startled out of my worry as a tall black man stood at the door and called my name. He was wearing a blue jumper of sorts which told me he worked at the hospital, but I wasn't sure at what capacity.

"Darry," I answered with my usual correction; never getting used to being called my father's name.

"Hey, Darry. It's great to finally meet you. My name's Bradley."

Bradley approached me with a friendly smile and his left hand extended for me to shake.

"Hi," I answered quietly, feeling the weakness of my right hand in the strength of his grip.

"I didn't mean to interrupt breakfast…"

"No, no," I looked at my tray with disinterest. "You're doin' me a favour."

Bradley's laugh was boisterous, and I felt my mouth pull up into a grin.

"I'm here to work with you to get you back home. We won't start until this afternoon, but I wanted to introduce myself. They're telling me you're finally well enough. You were pretty sick."

"I guess so. I don't remember much." I shrugged.

"Well, be thankful. I saw your x-rays, Darry. You're one lucky son-of-a-bitch."

I nodded self consciously. I didn't feel lucky. I felt stupid and careless and wondered in the back of my head what it was going to cost me this time around.

"You alright, Darrel?" Bradley looked concerned.

"Darry," I said as if on cue. "Please. It's Darry. People call me Darrel, and I'm lookin' around corners for my dad."

"Darry." Bradley corrected with a grin. "You know, you've been through a lot, but I promise you it'll be okay. I'll take good care of you."

I nodded unsure as Beth came into the room timidly, and my heart was in my throat as she came in holding a cardboard packing box. I could feel the tremble start; my eyes already stinging with the anticipation of the inevitable.

"Uhhh," Bradley looked between Beth and I, and it must've been obvious even to a complete outsider. "I'll be back after lunchtime, Darry. I know the food is crap, but do what you can. You'll need your strength, okay?"

I nodded, keeping my eyes fixed on the box. I didn't speak; I wasn't even sure that I could.

"Alright. M'am." Bradley nodded to Beth before he left the room, and we sat in silence for awhile.

"When did he come home?" My voice cracked as I broke the awkward silence.

"A couple of weeks ago, baby." Beth's voice was almost a whisper, and I nodded and kept nodding so that I wouldn't break down.

"Any word from Steve?" I managed to choke out, knowing that Soda's death would hit him as hard as any of us.

I wondered foolishly if he'd been at Soda's side; if he'd been there to hold him during his last breath. The image should've made me feel some sort of peace, but I only felt a bitter jealousy deep down inside that I wasn't the one to be there for Soda in his last moments. I was his big brother. That was my job. I knew I was being petty and stupid, but it didn't matter. It didn't make any difference.

"Nobody's heard from him." Beth's voice started shaking as her eyes became wet, and she bit her bottom lip. "There was a letter sent, but it wasn't from him. It doesn't look official." She placed the box beside my legs and rummage through her purse before handing me an envelope.

I didn't recognize the name of the sender on the return address, and set it beside my uneaten tray on the table before pushing it away. I couldn't take my eyes off the box, and I looked warily at Beth from a sideways glance, wondering if she was really going to do this with me.

"I'm so sorry, Darry. I haven't been here for you." The tears were silent as they rolled down her face.

"That's not true," I said knowing she'd been at my side night and day while I was broken and in a mess.

"Not this way, though. You needed me, and I just wasn't ready to go there with you until I knew you were going to come out of this. I didn't know if you could handle it."

I could only nod. I knew how hard it was to stand by someone you love and not know if they were going to live or die or even come out on the other side as the same person. I knew the love and the sacrifice it took, and I loved Beth even more knowing how deep her devotion was to me and my brothers.

"It took some influence, but he's with your mom and dad. I don't know about the marker. It was already arranged, I'm sorry. I'm sure it was Tim but he hasn't been around to ask or thank or…" her voice caught as more tears fell.

My throat felt tight as the warm drops from my own eyes descended, and I motioned to the box with my right hand. Beth sniffed as she gave a quick nod, and moved the box onto my lap.

His belongings were few. A neat stack of letters wrapped in ribbon from Sandy along with a lock of blonde hair. I looked at Beth feeling like I'd just encroached on something private, and as usual Beth knew what to do, tucking the tidy package in her purse.

"I'll get these to her."

I nodded as I looked back into the box. Drawings Pony had sent and they could've been photographs; the detail and accuracy eerie. They were smudged and worn, and I could tell that Soda had handled them often; the paper creased and soft. They were treasured, and I saw through Soda's eyes what he saw—our little brother had a tremendous gift that needed and deserved to be nurtured.

As I flipped through the drawings, my heart clenched tighter and my eyes stung a little more from tears I was trying to hold onto. There was a drawing of every one of us, even Steve, and I could imagine the joy it brought Soda on the other side of the world.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath as I let my head fall and rest against the pillow. I took a moment to settle; feeling as Beth gently took the drawings from my hand to place them aside before taking my hand in hers.

"Are you okay?" Her voice was so soft as she gave my hand a squeeze.

I nodded as I counted to twenty in my mind, not really knowing what the right answer was to her question. I wanted a distraction, but I knew it would only delay what needed to be done.

I lifted my head and opened my eyes; looking at the drawings that she set on the bed by my feet. Part of me wanted to look at them again; to touch what both of my brothers had touched, but the envelope beside my uneaten breakfast caught my eye, and I reached over to carefully open it.

Dear Darrel & Ponyboy Curtis,

My name is Francis Hicks.

You don't know me, but I was in the same platoon serving with your brother Soda. I feel like I know you two from the way he would always talk about you both. He was so proud to be your brother. There wasn't a day he didn't share some story of home, show off his letters and drawings, and tell us all how much you both meant to him, so I guess that's why I'm writing you this letter. I wish I didn't have to.

By now you know that Soda was killed in action. They sent us into the valley about a mile and a half in Cambodia into a battalion perimeter. We were sent as bait to lure out the VC, but what they didn't realize was it was the entire 141st NVA regiment that would find us. We were surrounded and came under heavy fire. We lost a lot of men that night with countless wounded, me being but one. I wanted you to know what a hero your brother was, and how many lives he saved including mine. When one of the boys got hurt, it didn't matter what was going on around him, he was at their side to pull them through. He had a way about him that made us all feel safe—that he had our backs even against the odds. I didn't see Soda go down, but my Sergeant said it was while he was saving one of the guys. I want you to know that it was very sudden, and he didn't feel anything.

It's very difficult to write you about this, but I had to because of how much Soda loved you, and how much we all loved Soda. He was friends with everyone right from the get go. He used to read the comic pages to us and make funny voices for all of the characters. After awhile it would have us all in stitches. When we were out on an all-night patrol, and he knew one or all of us were scared, he'd start talking in one of those voices and it would lift our spirits. It was like the first ray of sunshine after a week of nothing but rain, and so we all started calling him Sunshine.

Sunshine had a very special gift, and I think it's one of the greatest gifts that anyone could ever have. It didn't matter if you were a grunt, or at the top of the totem pole, Sunshine never turned his back on, or spoke a bad word about anyone. He made us all feel like a brother, and I will never forget him for as long as I live.

I know how terrible this must be for you, but I want you to know you have my deepest sympathies.

In all sincerity,

Cpl Francis Hicks

Bravo Company

I hadn't realized I'd read it out loud until I heard Beth take a deep, shuddering breath before wiping at her eyes hastily. The words from Francis weren't a surprise. I knew how special Sodapop was. I knew he had a way about him that lured in people from all walks of life. He understood people. He made time to understand people. It didn't matter who you were.

His words reiterated the cold sadness I felt deep in my bones. The warmth the sun once held, was gone along with my brother. So many lives touched, and forever changed by his presence and now his passing and we'd all have to figure a way to make it through.

"Okay?" Beth checked in with me to see if I was able to keep going.

I was touched by the letter, and the fact that it was from a total stranger. I nodded with a little more courage, but it all died when I reached in and pulled out my brother's dog tags.

CURTIS

S.P.

US

B POS

PROTESTANT

I clutched them to my chest as my cry filled the spaces in that hospital room and I lost all composure like I lost my little brother. Beth surrounded me; her arms soft but strong as I cried for everything I lost and couldn't change. Soda was now gone; there was no pretending or putting off the truth. His remains next to my parents; his name branding my skin on my hand and all I could do was hold on to his precious name tighter. The only thing I had left of him.