Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders. Just Teresa Mack and Mr. Meyers.

OK, I am going to try to get back into the swing of this story. Thanks to tikagem for getting me restarted. Let's see how long this lasts. I want to dedicate this chapter to her.

Chapter 10

"Ponyboy?" I whispered into the dark. I listened carefully for any noise from his direction. None came. "Pony. Listen to me." I sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for assuming that you blamed it on yourself. I was obviously wrong." That was the hard part, as I was usually so stubborn to admit I was wrong. I listened intently again for a trace of a sound. Finally, one came. But it wasn't the whisper I sometimes heard right after the light went out, telling me about his day. This time it was different. It sounded like a sniffle. I carefully reached over and flicked the light back on and sat up, looking at Pony. His eyes were bloodshot and his eyelashes clumped together. A tear rolled down his face. I knew how embarrassing this was for him, having his older brother seeing him crying.

He turned to face the wall, and tried to pull the covers over his head. I pulled them back again. "Ponyboy? Are you OK? What's….what's wrong, man?" I asked tentatively.

"Sodapop, you're right. I completely blame this on myself. It's my fault that Johnny got killed. I was the one who wanted to run away." He took a shaky breath. "It never would have happened if it hadn't been for me falling asleep in the Lot, and then Darry hitting me cause I was getting all mouthy, and then I ran away and I dragged Johnny down with me!" He said, his voice rising slightly with every syllable. He took a big, shuddering breath, and more tears flowed from his red eyes.

I glanced quickly toward the door, almost expecting to see Darry standing there, staring. I knew how much Darry hated to see Pony cry, and I tried to quiet Ponyboy. "Pony, you gotta be quiet. You don't want Darry coming in!" I said. Another shuddering breath. "Ponyboy, listen to me!" I said firmly, grabbing him by the shoulders and turning him to look at me. "This wasn't your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault. Not mine or yours or Darry's or Johnny's or Two-Bit's or anybody's! It was a freak accident! Johnny was just doing what he felt was right. He was going to save those kids no matter what you did or said. He was going to, Ponyboy." I said, shaking him slightly. His breathing was becoming halfway normal, but there were still tears dripping every now and then.

"But…. But what if I had-"

"No Ponyboy. No. It wouldn't have helped, and it won't help now to go through all these what-ifs. It won't bring him back." I gestured to his Gone with the Wind book. "Not all the reading in the world." I gestured to his picture of Johhny. "Or all the looking in the world." I tapped his forehead. "Or all the wishing in the world." He shoulders shuddered one last time and the tears stopped.

"OK." He said as confidently as he could.

"OK?"

"OK."

"OK." I said, nodding my head. I reached up to turn off the light, thinking the conversation was over.

"Hey Soda?"

I stopped my hand in mid-air and brought it back down to my side.

"Yeah?"

"Can we visit him tomorrow? I mean… can we go to his grave?" Pony asked, staring hard at me. I looked away. We had never visited Johnny's grave. Not once. We hadn't even gone to the funeral. Ponyboy had been sick, and the rest of us wouldn't have been able to stand it. I sighed.

"Sodapop? Can we?" He asked pleadingly. He almost sounded like a little kid, begging to go the park.

"Yeah, Ponyboy. Yeah, we can." I sighed, turning out the light.

As we both slid down into the covers, I thought about what had just happened. What if Ponyboy took things too seriously and….I stopped my train of thought in its tracks, not wanting to think about losing any more people in my life.

A few hours later, I lay still awake in the bed. It was now silent in the house. The bowls had stopped clinging against one another, and the whistling had ceased as Darry went to bed. Had my mind not been on the recent events of the evening, I would have noticed that the absence of the deep breathing next to me meant that I was not the only one laying awake.

We stood in a semi-circle. Me, Pony, Darry, Two-Bit, and Steve. We were all wearing our Sunday best, and we all probably looked out of place – a bunch of Greasers clumped around a grave in a cemetery. Ponyboy bent down and placed a package on the mound. It was wrapped in newspaper so we couldn't tell what it was, but I had noticed that morning that Gone with the Wind was absent from Ponyboy's night stand. It was silent for a while, and we all just stared at the grey stone stating two simple words – Johnny Cade. His parents hadn't loved him enough to put anything more on it, and none of us in the gang had enough money to contribute anything more.

Two-Bit looked away uncomfortably. I breathed out loudly, and Darry shifted positions. We were all there just for Ponyboy. Sure, we were all super uncomfortable standing there, waiting, but we had to do it for Ponyboy. We had agreed on that one in the living room while Ponyboy was changing.

Pony turned around. He nodded at me and I nodded back. The rest of the gang turned to leave, and I watched their backs sauntering away. I turned to look at Ponyboy. He took a deep breath and smiled a weak smile. I put my arm around his shoulders and half-hugged him, then let him go. "I'm proud of you Pony." I said, not knowing what else to say. He smiled again, a little stronger this time, and we walked slowly after the gang, Ponyboy glancing over his shoulder at the newspaper-wrapped package and grey stone.

(A/N OK well there ya go! I'll try to get more done later. Please R&R.)