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

~*~

"Soda?"

I knocked on the bathroom door hoping he'd let me in, but there was no answer and I was getting worried. As soon as I'd pulled the Dodge into the driveway, it seemed like he was already halfway up the walk and into the house where he proceeded to lock himself in the bathroom.

"Pepsi, come on…we should talk about this." I urged while thinking about those scars that covered his right forearm, worrying we were on our way down a dangerous path.

"I'm fine. Really Darry, I'm fine…it's okay." I heard his muffled voice echo off the bathroom walls before the sound of the shower started.

"He okay, Darry?" I felt Ponyboy grab onto the sleeve of my shirt.

"We'll work it out, little buddy. It's been a rough day all around, why don't we figure out lunch and I'll feed you two hooligans."

Pony nodded before slowly turning around to head for the kitchen and I watched absently, noticing his leg had decided to straighten out a bit more since morning. It was one less thing to worry about as I glanced back to the bathroom door— remembering that I couldn't control everything. Some things were not mine to claim; namely Soda's reaction to what had happened. The only thing I could control was me and making sure I was there to support my brother however he needed.

Right then he needed me to give him space.

Ponyboy already had the ice box open and was rummaging through it when I made my way into the kitchen. I could see the worry on his face and figured just like me he needed a distraction.

"Whadaya think, kiddo?" I asked as I leaned against the counter, watching him carefully.

"I dunno," Ponyboy shrugged. "Guess I'm not that hungry."

"Well y'know ya gotta eat, Pony. Gotta keep keepin' your strength up. You been doin' so good; you been gettin' stronger. I don't want ya fallin' behind or gettin' sick."

"I know, I just don't feel right."

"Your head? Stomach? Or is somethin' on your mind?"

Ponyboy shook his head sadly while he closed the door to the ice box. "I just don't get it."

"Don't get what, Pony?"

"Why people are so mean to each other. How people are okay with being cruel…like they almost enjoy it. Soda never hurt anybody—they don't even know him and they treated him like he wasn't even a person. He saved people, Darry! He saved lives, and the things they were yelling at him…" Pony broke down, and I had no choice but to go to him and wrap my arms around him.

"I hear ya, little buddy. Shhhh…I don't want you getting worked up, okay? Just breathe for me."

"But it ain't right!" I could feel the anger as his body tensed up.

"It ain't right, Pony…I agree with you, and we've been down this road before, haven't we? Lotsa times."

Our whole lives, we were marked lousy because of not having money or the opportunities that came from having money. All I ever wanted was for Ponyboy to finish school and go onto college so he could get away from all of the social injustices that were a daily occurrence in our neighbourhood. I wanted him to move on to a better place—a place where he was treated like he deserved to be treated.

That was an old dream now.

The brutality of life landed its claws into my youngest brother and tore away that wide-eyed view he used to have of the world. A world where sitting on the front porch to watch a sunset held all of the secrets to life. A world where if you dreamed hard enough, you could find all of the answers.

"It ain't fair, Darry! It ain't fair what they did! After everything he's done…" He started to sob, and I could only hold onto him tighter.

"I know, Pony. Shhhh…I know. I'm sorry." I murmured as I pet his hair and thought about the innocence that was once his, and how it was burned to ashes.

"What are you sorry for?" Ponyboy pulled back and looked at me incredulously. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I know, but you're hurtin' and I hate to see ya like that." I shrugged.

Pony's face softened, and he was about to say something before the bathroom door opened and Soda's voice sounded out softly.

"Hey Pony, ya there?"

"Uh huh." Pony wiped at his eyes with the back of his good hand.

"Can ya come in here 'n gimme a hand?"

I rubbed Pony's head affectionately as he turned away to head for the bathroom, but he surprised me by tugging on my arm.

"Can't walk. Help." His voice rasped a little but he walked along fine without much help at all.

Sodapop stood naked in the middle of the bathroom soaking wet from his shower with a bath sheet in his hand. He shrugged his right shoulder when he saw us; and looked apologetic.

"Just needed a hand dryin' off is all. Can't get my backside…"

"You want me to dry your butt?" Pony smirked, and I failed to suppress a grin.

"No, I can get my butt, smart ass! My back, Pony!" Soda rolled his eyes exacerbated.

He tried to demonstrate his difficulty, but Pony stopped him midway by stepping forward and grabbing the towel from him.

"I'm sorry…" Soda choked, and Ponyboy just shook his head.

"Why you two always sorry? Don't got anythin' to be sorry for. You've done more than this for me y'know." Pony started to gently rub Soda's back with the bath sheet.

"Yeah but I'm your big brother. 'S my job to look out for you."

"Not your job to change me and gimme a bath when I have accidents."

Soda shrugged Pony off. "Darry does all that honey, but you know I'd do anything for ya so quit your gabbin' 'n dry my back before I catch a cold."

"You've done it too." Pony stubbornly spoke under his breath before Soda took the towel from him and draped it over Ponyboy's head.

Pony pulled the towel off and tried to frown, but couldn't once Soda started grinning from ear to ear.

"You want me to grab you some clothes?" I offered, but Soda looked over his shoulder at me and shook his head.

"Got 'em set out already, thanks Darry. Ponyboy can help me get 'em on, right kiddo?"

Ponyboy nodded.

"Okay, holler if you need me." I smiled softly as I backed out of the room leaving my brothers, and I moved into the living room.

The newspaper laid untouched on the coffee table from earlier that morning, so I decided to sit in the chair and flip through it, knowing I probably wouldn't be able to concentrate on what I was reading anyways, but needing the distraction just the same. As I grabbed it, I could hear snickering and other tell-tale signs of my brothers horsing around in their room and I was able to let out the breath that I didn't know I was holding.

Soda was okay.

My brothers were quiet and kept to themselves for the remainder of the day, and it wasn't until I was getting supper going that Sodapop came back out.

"Pony okay?" I asked absently as I tried to follow Beth's recipe for the cheese sauce to go over the cauliflower.

"Yeah, he's at his desk drawing."

Something in Soda's voice made me turn around, and I almost did a double take. With no shirt on his scars were on full display, and even though I'd seen them close-up while the three of us huddled into each other on that bathroom floor, it still haunted me to think of everything Soda'd been through. It haunted me to think that I'd believed him dead—and he'd been so close to it. The scars marring him were testament to it.

"I'll put a shirt on if it bothers you." Soda spoke quietly as he sat down at the table and watched on as I stood at the stove.

"It don't bother me, Pepsi." I looked on at him. "It's you—all of you. You don't gotta hide your arm from me. Don't suppose you gotta hide from your little brother either. You're our Sodapop."

"Was for nothin' y'know. I went there thinkin' I was bein' a man—doin' the right thing for God and country or whatever they tell ya. Figured I'd come out at least with a pension and some money to start a life with Sandy and Jack. Turns out I'm worth more dead than alive."

"Don't say that, Pepsi. Don't ever say that. Ain't nothing further from the truth."

"It ain't like the movies, Darry. I thought people would be proud of us, but instead of wavin' and celebratin', I'm gettin' the finger and spit on. And I ain't even worth a shit to the government either. Uncle Sam ain't even gonna pay me what he promised. I won't even make half."

"Soda," I stepped away from the pot and pulled out my chair from the table to sit closer to him. "This ain't like the Great War. It's hard to celebrate one guy comin' home when your son or your kid brother is gettin' shipped off in the same breath, or even worse, they're at your doorstep tellin' you they ain't comin' home at all."

"They lied!" Soda cried.

"Of course they did. How do you think they get kids to sign up? They come stickin' their noses in poor neighborhoods like ours and promise you a way out. The only problem with this war is they weren't expecting us to lose."

"Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you…"

"Try to stop you? I did, Pepsi. I did everything short of tie you down." I reached out to grab his hand.

"I know! I'm sorry!"

"You had to go, Soda. You were there for Steve, and he was there for you. Am I glad you went? Fuck no! I'd do anything to change what you had to go through but I can't." I shrugged. "And if you hadn'ta gone, Soda I gotta wonder how many boys never woulda made it home."

At that, Soda broke down and I just held him until he could talk again.

"Think of all the guys you saved, little buddy. All that studying you did with Greg, and all the training you did. I'm proud of you!"

"But what do I do now, Darry? People can't even look at me like I'm a person. They see I got one arm they know I was in that fuckin' war and they won't touch me! I went down there and they won't even help me find a job! How am I gonna look after my kid?"

"Shhh…" I rubbed his hair. "You can start by letting me help."

"Awe c'mon, Darry! I'm twenty three fuckin' years old! You gonna look after me my whole life? Don'tcha think I need to be my own man at some point…"

"Would ya shut up and let me talk?"

"You always talk!" Sodapop snorted, but shook his head incredulously at me.

"Brat," I grinned. "I ain't your keeper, and this ain't the same thing. I got your back, Soda. That's all I'm sayin'. I'm offerin' you a soft place to fall, okay? You got a roof over your head and food in your belly and the rest will figure itself out."

"I don't wanna be a burden." He sniffed.

"I've never and never will ever think of you as a burden. You think Ponyboy's a burden?"

"God, no! That's not…"

"Not what, Soda? Not the same thing? 'Cause it sure the hell is to me! My brothers are hurting and they need me and I'm gonna damned well be there for them, alright? If it makes you feel better, I'll talk to Mr. Harris and see if there's extra work at the hardware store he can have you do. You're not a burden, and you ain't useless, and that's the end of that kinda talk, savvy?"

Soda nodded though his tears.

"Uncle Sam can kiss my ass too. My brother is a hero, and I'll have words with anyone who says otherwise, I don't give a shit who it is."

Soda choked out a laugh as more tears fell; his head still nodding up and down. He squeezed my hand when I leaned forward to press my forehead against his before I rose to return to the supper that was cooking on the stovetop.

"Can I help you with that?" Soda wiped at his eyes.

"No chancey , Mr. Waylon!"

"Wha…why not? You said I wasn't useless!" Soda argued and I could only grin.

"You aren't, but I'll be damned if you stick some fucking bullshit colouring in dinner and ruin my appetite!"

"I wasn't even gonna!" Soda was aghast until I gave him a look and he started blushing.

"Soda Patrick Curtis, you're so full of shit your eyes are brown."

Soda huffed out a laugh as he slowly pulled out a bottle of green food colouring from his jean's pocket and put it on the table.

~*~

"Baby,"

I burrowed my face deeper into my pillow when I felt a hand rub briskly up and down my back. As I was about to slip back into deep oblivion, the hand started jostling me even harder.

"Huh?" I mumbled lightly to myself, unaware if I'd even made any sound aloud.

"Babe, there's somethin' wrong."

The anxiety in Beth's voice startled me, and I felt my heart slam into my chest as I rolled over and reached for her.

"Doll? You okay? What's wrong?"

"Shhhh…Darry, I think someone's outside. I swear I heard someone. Please tell me you locked the door!" Beth whispered desperately.

"Yeah, of course I did, doll. I always do!" I reassured her as I sat up in bed and strained to hear.

Our front door had been kept locked up tight twenty four hours a day since the night Campbell had broke in. Another innocence and freedom he'd stollen from all of us.

As I grabbed blindly for something to throw on, I could hear someone walking around outside. I neared the window as I zipped up my jeans, but couldn't see anything.

Beth was up and wrapping her housecoat around herself. She reached for me and looked terrified.

"Darry," she choked, and I hurriedly wrapped my arms around her before I kissed her.

"Stay in here, okay?" I instructed as I unraveled her from me, and she nodded as she crouched behind the bed.

I opened the bedroom door to see both of my brothers in the hallway; Soda tall and strong, wielding my old baseball bat in his one hand while shielding our baby brother with the rest of his body.

"You hear it too?" Soda whispered as he looked over to me.

"Uh huh. Ponyboy, get over here!" I snapped my fingers for him and watched as he let go of the waistband of Soda's sleep pants and hobbled over to me.

"Listen, I want you to stay with Beth in my room, okay? You look after her for me while Soda and I check things out."

He looked as though he thought I were crazy, but I wasn't lying. I didn't feel good having Beth sit in our bedroom alone to defend herself on the chance somebody was trying to break in. I also didn't want Ponyboy out in the open for anyone to hurt him either. The two of them could protect each other, and I knew that they would.

"Okay?" I reached out to push his hair back, and he nodded before limping past the doorway and towards Beth.

I quietly shut the door behind him. And looked over to Sodapop. He still opted for no shirt, and the scars he wore seemed easy compared to the stone cold determination he wore on his face, and I was reminded that my brother was no longer a kid. He was a man that was trained to be a weapon. He was a soldier.

"You want me to take that?" I asked as I found myself mesmerized by my brother's stance and focus.

He cocked an eyebrow at me before the bat deftly rolled over his arm in one motion before he had it in his hand again, and I wondered which one of us was the protector.

As I pondered how our roles had changed, there was rustling and thudding coming from the spare room. We both looked at each other, and I raised my eyebrows.

"Want me to get dad's gun?"

Sodapop shook his head. "I'll give 'em a good whack with this 'n you beat the shit out of 'em. That'll learn 'em well enough to come snoopin' 'round here."

I nodded and edged toward the door, wrapping my hand around the knob before looking over to my brother again. I waited until he nodded back before I slowly turned that knob and pushed the door open at a snail's pace.

Soda crept into the room and I followed right at his back, but even as I flipped on the light switch it was clear that there was nobody there.

"Coulda swore I heard somebody in here." Soda looked as confused as I was feeling.

"Maybe it was a bit of wind kickin' shit up in the yard?" I offered, but Soda didn't seem convinced.

"Nah, I swear I heard someone…like footsteps outside the window. Christ, don't tell me I'm goin' bonkers. I don't wanna go back to that hellhole in Gainesville." Soda was wide-eyed, and looked like a comic book character so much that I laughed.

"You ain't goin' back there, so pipe down. As far as bonkers goes—get in line, little brother. You and Pony been drivin' me bonkers for years." I teased; smiling when my brother's face lit up.

"Yeah, but you deserved it ya big stick-in-the-mud!"

I gently shoved my shoulder into Sodapop's side, and for a minute I thought we were going to start wrestling until a loud thud followed by the shrill scream of my wife broke through our playful banter, and we were both charging towards my bedroom.

I had no idea what to think when we burst through the door. Ponyboy was underneath the intruder, and my wife was on top crying and hitting his back, but she didn't seem alarmed.

"Get him off, Darry!" Soda roared as he raised the bat.

"You shit! You stupid fucking shit! Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Beth hollered as she continued pummelling the intruder on the back.

There are some sounds that can grate so badly on your nerves, the hair stands up on the back of your neck so tall it makes you cringe. Like fingernails scratching down a chalkboard, or the sound of a fan belt that needs to be tightened, these are sounds that send a shiver down from the base of my skull to the tips of my toes. There are other sounds however, that cause an unexplainable warmth inside. Children laughing, good music, or the sound of a contented cat's purr.

It didn't hit me even when I realized Ponyboy's arms were wrapped around the invader's neck tight enough to cut off his air, and it didn't hit me when I saw those ugly pork chop sideburns that were the same colour as the rust on my ugly Dodge. It didn't even fully hit me when I saw his stupid face, and Sodapop had dropped the baseball bat on the floor and started to bawl.

It wasn't until I heard that hyena cackle that I realized Two-Bit Mathews came home.