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

Steve,

I feel like there's so much to say to you and yet I'm not sure where to start. Too much time has passed for subtleties, so how about I keep it simple and start with where the fuck are you?

I know we haven't always seen eye-to-eye on things, but you running away isn't going to help you. We know Soda's gone, Steve. We were told the basics of what happened and it's okay. Nobody is blaming you or thinks that it's your fault. I can't even begin to imagine what it was like for you, but you don't have to hide, or re-enlist or whatever crazy shit you've done with yourself lately. Soda wouldn't want that for you, and neither do I.

You have a home here, Steve. You have a family here with us, and it's time to come back. I know you're hurting over Sodapop but you don't have to hurt alone. You're our brother. Please come back home.

Darry

I sat on the step in a daze; scratching my head and wondering how bad off Steve really was. The letter I sent more than a month ago was returned unopened.

I couldn't help but let my mind wander. What was it like that final day for both my brother and his best friend? I knew from his silence that Steve was there when my brother was shot down, and a cold nauseousness seeped into my body with the realization that it must've been a violent and gruesome death.

We'd all been there to witness the barrage of bullets from the cops' guns when they took Dallas Winston down at the vacant lot all those years ago, but war was another level of violence that few of us could comprehend. It nagged at me to think of how my brother met his demise. Steve's silence just reaffirmed my hunch that Soda may not have felt that last bullet, but his body had suffered greatly.

My thoughts of Sodapop shouldn't have been of him bloody and ravaged into pieces, but not knowing the real truth left my mind to wander. I could visualize his bloody corpse lying on the earth in some god forsaken jungle, and it made me ache for him even deeper.

He didn't deserve to die like that—nobody did, but Soda especially. He went over there because of me and because of Steve; wanting to protect us both, and not knowing how to do that without sacrificing his own safety in the process. And in his reckless, unselfish act, he saved so many other lives. He was no innocent, but his heart was pure.

That heart he wore on his sleeve…

And then I couldn't help but worry for Steve. I knew Steve thought that Soda was all he had in life. His own father hadn't given two thoughts about Steve once he'd left for training, and I couldn't understand. I knew the emptiness of losing family, and I just couldn't understand. It made me feel for Steve. Having only that one person you depended on for everything, and then watching him be taken away by something so senseless and violent as war…

I remembered back to how I'd found Ponyboy in the filth and coldness of that bedroom. Tied up and on the floor with his head beaten in and his body ripped apart, and couldn't help to wonder if that was how Steve felt. The sickness, the helplessness, and the guilt that led me to drink. I didn't want that for Steve. As much as he got under my skin with his cocky, know-everything attitude, he was another brother. A brother who needed to come home...

..."NO!"

Ponyboy's voice ripped from out of nowhere and yanked me out of my thoughts right before I heard the sound of glass shattering. There was a loud thump from the living room and I was on my feet and grabbing for the door before I heard Beth pleading.

"Pony, it's okay! He's not trying to hurt you, sweetheart!"

I rushed in to find both Bradley and Beth hovering over my brother who was cowering on the floor in front of the couch. The lamp on the side table had been knocked over; pieces of it scattered about.

"What the hell's goin' on?" I demanded; not knowing if I was mad for the interruption of my thoughts, or because I had to replace another lamp.

"Don't tie me up!" My brother all but begged, and my annoyance was immediately swallowed up by concern.

"No, Pony. It's not like that, kid."

"Pony, Brad wouldn't hurt you."

He shook his head repeatedly and looked to me desperately for help.

"What the hell were you two doin' to him?" I grumbled as I made towards my brother and dropped down next to him, hauling him into me.

"Nothing! Darry, you know I'd never do anything or let anybody hurt Pony! What's the matter with you?" Beth was angry and offended, and I guess she had a right to be, but right then my priority was my brother.

"They wanna tie me up! Don't let 'em, Darry! Darry please! I don't wanna be tied up again! I'll be good, I promise!" Pony cried, and I felt like I couldn't speak.

"Baby, no! We don't want to tie you up, pumpkin! We aren't going to do that!" Beth looked horrified.

"Shhhh…ain't nobody tyin' anyone up. Not over my dead body." I spoke lowly into Ponyboy's hair while my arms crushed him to me like a vice. "What's going on?" I looked up at Beth.

"I just had some ideas for Ponyboy's hand and his leg. Beth was helping me try it out. I'm…I'm so very sorry. I'm…" poor Bradley stuttered as he tried to gauge what had just happened.

"What ideas? Y'mean more weights? Why does he think you're gonna tie him up?"

My frequent trips to the gym resulted in Ponyboy getting full advantage of me having a therapist friend. From that first visit, I was left to work independently on my own physical recovery, while Bradley worked intensely with Pony; pushing him to reach beyond; giving him stretches and exercises in hopes of increasing his mobility and his quality of life.

"No, I had a few ideas to maybe loosen up the contractures. I wasn't trying to tie him up, Darry. I swear it!"

Ponyboy was distraught; hyperventilating while burying his face in my arm. "No tying!"

"Shhhh…" I soothed while I pet my brother's hair, and then nodded towards Bradley. "Show me what your idea was."

Bradley held out a thick washcloth, and I felt my eyebrow cock out of my control while I gave him a look like he'd just took a tumble off the idiot tree.

"A facecloth? You scare the shit outta my brother over a facecloth? What the fuck were you going to do with it?" I felt my temper flare, but my wife was there to cool my jets.

"Darry, it's so simple, but I think it'll work. Just listen to Brad, please!"

I looked back over to Bradley and watched as he folded the facecloth in half, and then rolled it into a tube. He looked it over before folding a second facecloth in half, and then rolled it around the first making the tube thicker.

"Beth, can you cut me off a few strips of that medical tape?"

I watched in silence and confusion while the medical professionals seemed to read each other's thoughts, working together so well in unison.

"It won't come undone this way. Now what I was trying to explain is that if we tie…"

"No tying!" Pony's voice broke as he sobbed, and I squeezed him before turning back to my wife and Bradley.

"Can you just explain what the hell that is, and enough about tyin' him up, 'cause I guaran-goddamn-tee ya, that ain't happenin' in this life or the next!" I hollered as old wounds and memories rose to the surface.

"Yeah, of course! Uh…yeah…um…could you hold his arm for me?" Bradley motioned for Ponyboy's crooked arm that I had tucked beneath my hold.

I let my arm slide from around Ponyboy's torso, and I held his arm out watching as Bradley reached for that mangled fist. I watched silently as Bradley rubbed and moved and stretched and coaxed the fingers open, and frowned as Pony's arm jerked in violent tremors. When I was about to tell Bradley to stop what he was doing, the rolled facecloth was placed into my brother's palm and his fingers were released to curl around it, effectively holding it into place.

"I just thought if I held it in place by tying gauze around the facecloth and the back of his hand, it wouldn't slip out. This could still work though." Bradley shrugged.

I realized then that my brother had perceived the situation all wrong, but I couldn't blame him. I knew where his fear of being tied up stemmed from, and there was no need to argue about it. He panicked, and that was okay. He'd been through enough in his life that it didn't matter the explanation. All that mattered was that he was safe with me.

"So what's the goal of this? I don't get it." I felt myself starting to relax as I felt Ponyboy let go; pulling his face out from my arm to inspect what Bradley had completed.

"Well my goal is to get that hand to loosen up, but it's contracted bad, Darry."

"So he holds onto a washcloth all day?" I thought the idea was asinine, and my voice made no effort to hide that.

"Darrel, stop bein' an asshole." Beth warned. "He can hold it when he's asleep. Over time the tendons and ligaments should relax a little. Maybe he'll regain some of the function in his hand."

I nodded my head as I looked downward to see Pony staring at his hand.

"How does it feel, kiddo?" I mumbled while I let my hand massage down his twisted arm. "Does it feel okay? Think you can fall asleep with that?"

Pony nodded slowly, but said nothing.

"Alright," I sighed; relieved the situation sorted itself out. "What else ya got in your bag of tricks, Brad?"

"Everything okay?" Beth asked as I entered the living room and sat next to her on the couch.

I'd spent the last hour trying to talk Ponyboy into wearing the wooden splints for his arm and leg that Bradley provided, but in order to secure them, meant we had to tie them on, and it was a lost cause no matter how much I tried to convince him it was what was best. So I laid beside him; gliding the back of my fingers gently across his cheek until he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

"No go." I mumbled. "He's using the roll for his hand; I guess that's something."

I could feel Beth watching me, but I was too tired to analyze it. I'd been short with both her and Bradley when the two of them were only trying to help, but it didn't matter. Pony needed me to speak for him, and so I did what I had to do.

"I'd never hurt him, I hope you know that." Beth said as if reading my mind.

"I know that."

"Then why did you treat me like a mad scientist earlier?" She snapped.

I'd hurt her, and I hadn't meant to.

"You weren't listening to him."

"Honey, he misunderstood…"

"He was scared, Beth!" I cut her off. "He was scared to death, of course he misunderstood. You don't know what he had to go through! You don't get that he'll never see some things the same way as he used to."

"I was there, Darry. I know how badly he was hurt. I saw the injuries. I…"

"You weren't there!" I raised my voice in frustration. "Look, you're an amazing nurse Beth, and I love you. You and Greg, Eric and all the rest of the people in that hospital are the reason he's still alive, but you don't know!" I was vibrating. "You don't know."

"Darry…" She started, but didn't finish.

She reached for my hand, and I let her take it. I wanted her to know that I wasn't angry with her, but that there were things she couldn't understand just by reading about them in a medical journal or text book. What Ponyboy survived was real, and so much had happened to hault his recovery. He'd never spoken to me about the details of what happened to him—just tidbits, but the one soul he did tell; the keeper of all his secrets was dead.

I sobbed out a laugh. "It's been four years, and I can still smell that fucking house."

I couldn't look at her, because if I did I knew I'd fall to pieces, but in my periphery I could see her mouth snap shut.

"He was just lyin' there. Slumped over and tossed away in the corner of that room, and I gotta wonder if that piece of shit woulda just left him there to rot if I hadn'ta been pushy and made our social worker take me to him."

"You found him? Darry, you never told me that." Beth squeezed my hand as she took a shaky breath.

I just nodded. Minutes ticked by as we sat in silence and I didn't know if it was worth re-living the past and upsetting my wife, but there were things about my brother she needed to know.

"The stench was nauseating; I mean it about fuckin' knocked me over, Beth. I was about to hit my knees and puke before I noticed him; his hands were bound and he was covered in…"

I couldn't finish.

"Darry, I'm so sorry." Beth's eyes were wet like mine. "You're right—I didn't get it. I wasn't there in the same capacity, and even though it killed me to see the cruelty of what was done to Ponyboy, it's not the same as what you'd been through and it was ignorant of me to think it was. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

I nodded. "I know that you'd never hurt him. I just need you to understand what it was like before you guys saved him."

"You saved him, Darry. I need you to know that, and I need you to know that I love him, Darry. I'd die before I'd ever hurt him, I swear." Beth cried, and I wrapped my arms around her to hold her close.

"I know, doll. And he loves you too—I mean, crazy nuts about you. I'm sorry I got so short with the two of you, but he's been through enough. And losin' Soda on top of all that…"

"I think I understand a little better now." Beth smiled sadly. "I'm so sorry."

I nodded as we came to an unspoken agreement, and wrapped Beth up in my arms before leaning us back onto the couch. One of the things I loved most about her was her willingness to listen; even if I had no basis or rationale for the way that I felt, she would stop everything that was going on and listen.

"Will he be okay? Do you want to lay down with him tonight?" Beth asked.

"We'll play it by ear. He's got Mickey and the pillow. I'll hear him if he wakes up."

"You sure?"

I nodded and hugged Beth tighter to me; so thankful that I had her by my side.

"You ready for bed then?" Beth asked as she pulled herself out of my arms, and slowly stood up from the couch with her hand outstretched towards me.

"Sounds good." I grinned as I took her hand and stood next to her; leaning down so I could press a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Thank you."

She tugged my arm as she lead the way to the television; turning it off before leading us to the hallway. The phone shrilled and made us both jump a little, and we both huffed a laugh at how we both reacted.

"I'll go get it. I dunno who the hell would be calling at this hour." I mumbled while rubbing Beth's shoulders.

"Alright. Get the light on your way back, would you?"

"Yep, I'll be right in." I answered as I jogged around the corner and made my way towards the ringing telephone.

"Hello?"

I waited for the reply, but the only thing I heard was muffled breathing.

"Hello?" I sing-songed which earned me a huff in either amusement or reproach, but I still didn't get an answer.

"You gonna answer pal, or can I hang up now?"

"Darry?" A voice whispered on the other end, and I was starting to get irritated.

"Yeah, it's me. Who is this?" I demanded before I heard the sobbing on the other end of the line, and my blood turned cold.

"Darry," came a whisper along with more sobbing, and my heart slammed against my ribs.

"Steve? Steve, is that you? Listen, Steve…you gotta come home, alright buddy? Come home. It's okay, you don't gotta hide. Come home and we'll get through this together. We all want you back. We all need you here. Come home."

My tongue felt like it was tripping over itself as I struggled to get everything out while pleading with him, but just as I finished the line went dead, and I was left listening to the dial tone.