Okay, here's the last chapter. Toldya it would end sorta happy. Anyway, I could probably write a whole other story on all the crap I summed up in this, but I've decided to keep it short like I originally planned. Thanks for any reviews.

That night still haunts my dreams, and every morning I set a long moment aside to think about all the things that came before it and the things that followed it.

The next morning I woke up in a house that was not my own, on a worn out couch. I would soon learn that the Curtis boys had gotten a call from Dally shortly before he had told me goodbye, and had just arrived when the shots went off. It was Soda who had carried me off, it was Soda who had tried to comfort me.

Since they did not know where I lived, they took me to their house. I felt like such a burden being there. Pony was not in a healthy state, and Soda was depressed from recent heartbreak. The whole household was eerily silent, and I sensed that behind that silence a storm brewed. A storm of sadness and conflict and confusion. But they would weather it out. I would too. It would take some time for Pony to heal, but he'd realize how good he had it some day.

That morning, after declining breakfast, I had a long conversation with Soda as the sun rose and touched the tips of the trees, painting the leaves golden and orange. We sat on the steps just outside the house, both of us watching as the world woke up. It was a horrible experience for me to learn just the night after a traumatic event that the world goes on.

"It's like any other morning, only it's not." I said in my tired hoarse voice. I was grim and bitter, attempting to be like Dally. Everyone knew I couldn't harden like that, but they let me try for the next few months. Even my mom was patient with me once she'd heard my story.

"What do you mean?" He was terribly tired, the poor boy. His eyes were bloodshot, he had beard of stubble from lack of shaving. It made me think of how Dally's slight stubble tickled when we had last kissed. How he had smelled of cigarette smoke…

"People just go on doing like they used to."

He had only nodded in response to that. I could tell he was getting more tired by the minute.

"Go back in and sleep, Monica will be here in a few minutes. I can wait by myself." I finally said. He tried to give me a weak smile, but it faltered.

That was a rough day. I don't think I ate for the rest of the week, but Monica finally got me up and dressed when my mom had said she'd come to visit. That was the only thing that got me up, not even my job would've pulled me out of that bedroom, from that bed where Dally had once laid next to me. I knew I'd been fired, but Monica didn't tell me, for the sake of my sanity I guess.

My mom did as she promised. She saved up enough money for me to be a nurse. For a long time she'd had a secret stash of money, which she made from renting out my grandparents' home in Windrixville. I had to take high school classes on the side, because I had dropped out. I went to a school not far from home, and whenever I had the time, I drove down to Tulsa and visited my heroes. Monica still loved me, even if the rest of the girls had grown a bitter hate for me that stemmed from envy and contempt, and maybe anger for me ignoring them. Soda reminded me what it felt like to be light hearted and silly, like a little girl. Him and Two-Bit were the light of my life in my dark age. Their –mainly Two-Bit's- constant jokes, puns, and antics made me laugh again.

It was a busy time, and being busy was what I needed.

I emerged stronger, and a better person, even if I was mistrusting and overprotective of the ones I love from the fear of losing them. Even if I still didn't understand the world.

After getting my nursing degree, which took me a good three and a half years, I decided to fix up my grandparents' house in Windrixville and settle there. I got a job at the same hospital I had cried in three long years ago. Once the doctor who had tended to my finger pointed out humorously that it was slightly crooked from my being so stubborn. I gave him a smile, knowing he didn't mean any harm, but it did hurt. Dally was the one who had broken my finger. His name was like the dull ache on my ribs after the boys who had jumped me had run off.

I didn't live in that little house alone though. As soon as I'd graduated Soda had asked me to be his wife, and of course I accepted. He was easy to fall in love with. During my frequent visits we had grown close. Monica told me he was better for me, and by that time I had accepted that she was only speaking the truth. She had been right about Dally when she said he'd hurt me. I still wouldn't go back to save myself the pain.

It's been five years. The commute to work isn't desirable, but we both manage. My mom lives with us, and she takes care of Kay, our two year old. His brothers and friends visit often, daily actually, Pony especially likes it here, and Monica comes down from time to time. We have a small golden pony named Peanut that Soda and Kay bond over. My life is nearly perfect.

But every morning he crosses my mind. I wonder why Dally hadn't gotten a happy ending, was it because he resisted it? Why had he killed himself?

The morning of Dally's funeral –I wouldn't call it one, it only consisted of a burial- I voiced these questions. None of the other greasers answered, only Soda did.

"Ana, Dally realized that you were going to die just like Johnny did one day. It wouldn't have mattered what you did, you couldn't have changed him completely. You couldn't have just…reversed all the damage. It was too late for Dal when you met him."