Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders

So, I know I was writing about Angela and Billy, but my mind jumps, and this has become a oneshot collection for all my characters in Making God Laugh. This is a nice surprise to me. I was writing a Steve/Anita oneshot, but Tim and Curly took over instead.

~ Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets. ~ Arthur Miller

The church is empty in the dead of night. Or is it early morning? Whatever the time, it's empty, as even the priest has gone to bed, leaving no one for Curly Shepard to talk to. It's a miracle the doors are still open, but then, maybe not. Maybe everyone just mutually agrees there's not much to steal from a poor church in an even poorer neighborhood.

"What're you doing here?" someone asks, making him jump.

He whirls around, relieved to see it's just his brother. "Fuck's sake, give me a heart attack, why don't you?"

That unbearable smirk his brother is an expert at makes an appearance. "Shouldn't cuss in a church. Think it's a sin or something."

Curly's face heats up in embarrassment. "What do you know?"

"Lots," his brother claims. "Even the devil knows scripture."

"You ain't the devil, Tim," he says, although he wouldn't go so far as to say Tim is a good person either, but neither is Curly.

His brother shrugs, unbothered one way or the other. Curly shakes his head at the nonchalance. Geez, he's not asking Tim to don the collar, but some reverence would be appreciated.

"How'd you know I'd be here, Tim?"

The older boy tilts his head him. "You always took to church better than me and Angel, Curly, and I know you better than you'd like."

Curly figures that much is true. Despite Curly mostly visiting during off-hours, Tim's probably known all along that Curly comes to church on a semi-regular basis. Confession has always made Curly feel better, and there's always a laundry list of things to confess. Today, cowardice is added to the table.

"You know why I'm here?" Curly asks, voice small, feeling like the kid he hasn't been in ages.

Tim nods, calm as ever, which is infuriating and comforting at the same time. "Yeah, I saw the letter."

"Geez, Tim." Curly is weighed down with despair and resentment. "How'd the draft pass you over, huh? You just born lucky?"

"You know it," Tim says, because there's no way he'll admit he got deferred due to his asthma, even if he hasn't had an attack since he was twelve. Curly already knows, but he pretends he doesn't. He craves the illusion of Tim's invulnerability as much as Tim needs to have it.

Curly draws a shaky breath. "I can't go, Tim."

Tim's eyes narrow, his jaw sets, and he lights a smoke, illuminating his scarred face. "Didn't raise you to be a coward."

'Didn't raise me at all,' Curly wants to object, but he won't lie, not tonight. Because, of course Tim's raised him. Who else was gonna? Tim's taught him how to fight, how use a switch, steal a car, pick a lock, talk to girls. The list goes on and on.

"I ain't comin' back," Curly states with dull certainty.

"Sure, you will," Tim says, far too casual. "Just shoot them before they shoot you."

Curly trembles as his stomach churns. "I'm not a killer."

Tim sighs. "Yeah, I know, and you're right, Curly. If you go, you're not coming back."

The roots of terror in Curly's gut dig deeper. Oh, God, he's going to die. He's going to die without having lived, all because he's poor and dumb, and society deems him an acceptable loss.

"Am I too bad to make it heaven?" Curly asks.

Tim laughs bitterly. "Curly, you've always been the only one with any hope for heaven. Ma made sure of that, what with her babying you as much as she does."

The last bit is said with a goad. Tim wants Curly to fight, but the fear is just too much. He can talk a big game, he can use his fists, and he's left guys beaten and bloody in alleys, but he's never crossed the line to killing.

Tim exhales his smoke. "Okay, no more jokes. I knew as soon as I saw the letter, Curly. I knew if you went, you'd never make it back, so I've already gone 'round town, talked to a few guys, mapped out some prices."

"Prices for what?" Curly is confused.

"For getting you out of the country," Tim says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, rendering Curly speechless.

Curly shakes his head, trying to figure if he's heard that right. "Huh?"

"Canada is out of our price range," Tim continues, like Curly's just supposed to keep up or something. "Mexico is closer, though, and less expensive. You know Spanish, right? Ma taught you?"

Curly is frozen to the spot. "Huh?"

Tim smacks him on the back of his head. "Say something else, will ya? Do you wanna go to Mexico, or don't you?"

"Uh…"

Tim snickers, amused at Curly's inability to speak, and throws an arm over Curly's shoulders. "I'm gonna go with yes."


Tim watches Curly flounder at the news he'll be leaving the country. Mexico is bound to be a whole different world, and Tim is glad his brother will get to see it.

"But I don't wanna leave home at all," Curly whines.

What a joke. Curly's been wanting out of his life since their dad died. Well, the little shit's finally gonna get the escape he's always been craving.

'Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas, Curly, for the rest of your life.'

"Yeah, you do, Curls. Besides, I already paid for your little vacation, so you're going whether you like it or not."

Curly laughs, still in shock and blinking real fast. "Okay, but I hate that I have to."

Tim grins at him, believing that much at least, because Curly's never liked being ordered around. "I know."

"When do I leave?" Curly asks.

"Tonight, as soon as we walk out of here. Sorry you can't say goodbye to Angel and Ma, but there's no time."

Curly nods, but Tim can tell he's disappointed. Ma and Angela will be too, but they'll understand. They'll be happy enough he isn't going to war.

For his part, Tim is satisfied, and his smile has a long half-life as he watches his brother leave. When the regret at maybe never seeing Curly again surfaces, Tim shoves it away. His brother is alive, and he's gonna stay that way. There's nothing to regret.


Gosh, but I'm nervous about this one. I'm always nervous, truth be told, but this is me getting my feet wet again with writing. Hope I can get back into it.